60+

[Sn!pe]

60+ abandoned, it being beyond redemption.
It seems there is no life after death after all,
not even for newsfroups.

[Sn!pe]

Brandon Burt <brando...@gmail.com> wrote:

> After dark, the soft sounds of scrabbling could be heard in the
> distance—for, you see, the International Nocturnal Scrabbling Tournament
> (INST) was being held in a luxurious hotel nearby! Quite a lavish affair,
> participants were rustling and rifling through their courtesy gift baskets
> searching for the Golden Q, the lucky recepient of which received the
> "home advantage" so that he or she was allowed to start words anywhere on
> the board, instead of having to build off whatever stupid letters were
> there already [see Note 1 below].
>
> But, underneath the murmuration of gift-basket rustling could also be
> heard an even softer sound, as that of sympathetic yet wet and furry paws.
> For a moment, in the moonlight, had anybody been watching, they might have
> just detected the shadowy outline of a fur-bearing creature—a stoat? A
> beaver?
>
> In the pre-dawn hours, the creature—was it some kind of hedgehog? A
> ferret, maybe?—crept up and stood for a moment next to the sleeping figure
> of dear Sn!pe, who looked as though he had been having those dreams about
> The Longago Time. And then—a badger? A capybara? The rare and endangered
> March Withered Grumblebunny?—in one sleek, sudden movement, the Otter [see
> Note 2 below] vanished into the night, leaving behind pawprints in the
> sand, along with a small, fragrant bundle to comfort his old friend Sn!pe
> when he awake.
>
> It was just t*st. A slice of buttered t*st. Sn!pe was bound to be hungry
> in the morning.
>
> [ FOOTNOTES and GLOSSARY ]
>
> Note 1: It was this particular of the INST's variations on the Rules of
> Scrabbling that made the tournament so controversial. Indeed, in each of
> the intervening years since its founder dreamed up the whole concept, the
> INST had managed to end: (a) on time; (b) conclusively; and (c) without
> bloodshed—only it had never managed all three in the same year. It seemed
> an impossible trifecta. Indeed, today, when most people think of the
> letters "INST" (if they think of the letters "INST" at all, which is not a
> guarantee in life, more's the pity), what they think of is that those
> letters, strung together in that particular order, are probably one of the
> more tiresome of the Friar's Wig Pretendyoumeant Scorcher personality
> types [see Note 2 below].
>
> Note 2: For you see, it wasn't any kind of Withered Grumblekin. It was an
> Otter, which the reader might have noted by glancing at Note Pointer 2
> above [see Note Pointer 2 above], only if the reader were not so keen to
> just carelessly and blindly follow a footnote down here, where things are
> not always exactly safe . I mean, it is called "below" for a reason.
>
> Note 3: The FWPS was a kind of oracle consulted in those days by people
> and mustelids whose Unemployment was about to run out.
>

Hi, Otter, it's good to see you again after all these years.
Thanks for the buttered t*st! I'm touched that you remembered,
that was an act of true mustelidic kindness

The Golden Q? I never got one of those; just my luck, eh?
I sometimes feel that I've missed out on so many things...

--
^Ï^ <snip...@gmail.com> <https://youtu.be/_kqytf31a8E>

My pet rock Gordon just is.