He was 95. He lived to a good old age! His wife died last year of complications from a stroke. I am sure that if there is anywhere to go to, they are together. In Valhalla, if there is any justice in the universe.
*Anduin casts mirror image on mashedtaters, mashedtaters passes himself to another image, that in turn makes all the other images pass themselves to each other creating a impossibility conjunction that threatens all rational thought and logic in the universe*
*As mashedtaters is divided, served to, and devoured by an undead gnome mummy, a ferret, an alien, a Rik, and a fast-food-chain-mega-corporation-turned-D&D-fanatic, he realizes philosophically that such is the price to pay for being a delicious side-dish.
He joins in and starts eating himself*
*The two continuously regenerating and growing mashedtaters creatures look at each other from across the growing expanse between them. Soon they are both the size of buildings and growing beyond the abilities of the group to feed. Is this it? Is this the moment when there are finally too much mashedtaters at the dinner table?
Of course not! With additional size come even larger appetite to fuel such size.
The two mashedtaters creatures, growing hungrier by the minute, immediately start chowing down on each other with voracious appetite. The large piles of mashedtaters begins to shrink.*
We can use tater batteries as an efficient and renewable source of energy for propelling Martian spaceships. It will also decrease the pollution levels in outer space, and save the funds allocated to the research on anti-matter derived fuel sources.
But it's not "renewable"! Think of the hazards of doing so endlessly... You will eventually disturb the gravitational field of the star, which will cause the fabric of space-time to warp and twist, and soon everyone of us will be sucked into the void where the star once existed...
Well, maybe... since I also enjoy tinkering with various things and learn bits and pieces about them as a result. But even then, my focus is primarily on my field of study in which I specialize. So something like Sorcerer (25) Bard (5), maybe? ;)
Actually, I like creative writing, reading stories and listening to classical music, and occasionally dabbling in the visual arts. So they contribute significantly to my bardic skills. ;) (Or maybe, they're just artistic skills, cause I like to express my ideas in the form of art! :D )
Lets get to the poem... Me and Santa do not get on... Let me elucidate...
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a creaking,
As of some one gently creeping, creeping on my chamber roof.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, creeping on my chamber roof—
Only this and nothing morph.”
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the santa claus—
For the rare and radiant family man whom the saints name santa claus—
Nameless here for eversaws.
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a man in red of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord, opened his sack on the chamber floor—
Planted crackers and Presents around my chamber floor—
Mistltoe, and tinsel, and nothing more.
Then this old man beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though been a naughty boy,” Santa said, “To much partyin and ravin,
Ghastly ales and ancient women wandering the Nightly shore!"
"Oi" said I "Not true! I am a goodly gnome!" I swore.
Quoth the Santa “Gurn some more.”
I gurned some more aplenty, gurning I did a-many,
Until I thought, this red guy is a, although friendly is a bore,
So I got my axe and sword and crossbow and many toothy saw,
And chopped the guy into little bits, and lots of bloody gore,
"Aha!" Said I Dropping presents you will do no more."
Quoth the Santa "Nevermore"
Definition of blip
1 : a trace on a display screen (such as an oscilloscope); especially : a spot on a radar screen
2 : a short crisp sound
3 : an interruption of the sound received in a radio or television program or occurring in a recording as a result of blipping
4 : a transient sharp movement up or down (as of a quantity commonly shown on a graph)
5 : something relatively small or inconsequential within a larger context made only a blip on the political scene.
6: A halfling barbarian who likes to aim critical hits at gonads.
Alone in the night, a single magpie struts around. He picks and pokes, searching for treasures. He's sure he saw something shiny here. The beak and fangs claw through dirt and mud and grease and death and there.. far, far below the surface, he finds it; the shiny gem of the activity page. He reaches for it and gently pulls it to the surface.