"And it's not the first time..." Tibbs snapped at Boy In A Dress, "...Ninurta has a terrible habit of being taken and dumped
in places he shouldn't be" The small bearded man in the monk-like robe sipped his tea and watched the Man-Girl for
signs that his explanation had taken hold.
BIAD moved his long-fringed face from his long-lost friend to the other person in the cramped quarters, the fabled Witch
of Carbiox. Mucklebones was of a rare-breed, she held the features of the stereotypical doleful alien that most earthlings
believed had once ran the cosmos, but her old age and ragged apparel leant a persona of an individual with thoughts of
her own.
Wearing the same amount of clothing as BIAD, Tibbs' wife also enjoyed the same lack of discretness as the hermaphrodite
when it came to personal undress. Old Mucklebones' colourful language -apart from her skills in the art of what she called
'majick', was also something that set her apart from what the same earthlings would consider a hive member.
"He'll be no-doubt shootin' the shit out of someone-somewhere" Muckles muttered as she browsed the only shelf in BIAD's
living space. The crone who'd been saved from the stake by the man she was referring to, noticed that apart from some
oddly-shaped stones, a dented badge proclaimng something called 'Rogue Nation' and a well-thumbed photograph of an
old man in a lab-coat, there was little-else residing on the plastic ridge.
Mucklebones had been told by Tibbs during their stay at Bisley Deeps that there was a long-dead scientist in their host's
life that BIAD looked to as his father. The wispy-haired alien in the green poncho had also been informed that it was a prickly
subject.
Boy In A Dress waited for the answers to why and how the couple had come back into his life. Tibbs and Muckles had both
decided after BIAD had slain his long-time enemy, to remain in Bisley Deeps. They -to BIAD anyway, seemed happy in their
little underground home and in his heart, he was glad that they'd found each other.
How the universe had brought these two lovers together would certainly be a reason for using the word 'bamboozle'.
Tibbs was a Vithian, a Manager of time and a great-thinker. His race had scoured many universes for answers to ancient
mysteries and were widely noted for their wisdom.
Always seen sporting their dark-brown robes and seemingly staying with their own kind, but what many didn't know was that
Vithians also carried the gift of multi-ism, the act of creating oneself over and over again in certain conditions.
So technically, Vithians walked alone -but with many versions of themselves and the only other precedent was that they could
never marry.
Tibbs -it seems, bucked the trend.
The small man with waist-long beard took off his little round spectacles and cleaned them during relating his information.
"I told you from the very start that he was a problem..." Tibbs said softly "...Even Death didn't want anything to do with him"
he growled and roughly strapped the lenses around his well-lined head again.
Boy In A Dress restrained himself from reminding Tibbs that when he and Ninurta had first come across the Vithian, Tibbs was
building a gun to shoot God with and in the Man-Girl's view, that attempt would really warrant the heading 'problem'.
But the room remained quiet as the trio contemplated the inevitable, that of once more retrieving their friend and through that
action, probably saving many lives.
Muckles caressed the smooth pebbles and without thoughts of decorum, furnished Boy In A Dress and her husband to the vista
of her bare ass. She always scratched that cracked -yet still pert (in Tibbs' opinion) part of her anatomy when at a crossroads
of a decision that she wasn't happy about.
"Dear... don't do that" Tibbs said and placed his empty cup back onto the small table.
in places he shouldn't be" The small bearded man in the monk-like robe sipped his tea and watched the Man-Girl for
signs that his explanation had taken hold.
BIAD moved his long-fringed face from his long-lost friend to the other person in the cramped quarters, the fabled Witch
of Carbiox. Mucklebones was of a rare-breed, she held the features of the stereotypical doleful alien that most earthlings
believed had once ran the cosmos, but her old age and ragged apparel leant a persona of an individual with thoughts of
her own.
Wearing the same amount of clothing as BIAD, Tibbs' wife also enjoyed the same lack of discretness as the hermaphrodite
when it came to personal undress. Old Mucklebones' colourful language -apart from her skills in the art of what she called
'majick', was also something that set her apart from what the same earthlings would consider a hive member.
"He'll be no-doubt shootin' the shit out of someone-somewhere" Muckles muttered as she browsed the only shelf in BIAD's
living space. The crone who'd been saved from the stake by the man she was referring to, noticed that apart from some
oddly-shaped stones, a dented badge proclaimng something called 'Rogue Nation' and a well-thumbed photograph of an
old man in a lab-coat, there was little-else residing on the plastic ridge.
Mucklebones had been told by Tibbs during their stay at Bisley Deeps that there was a long-dead scientist in their host's
life that BIAD looked to as his father. The wispy-haired alien in the green poncho had also been informed that it was a prickly
subject.
Boy In A Dress waited for the answers to why and how the couple had come back into his life. Tibbs and Muckles had both
decided after BIAD had slain his long-time enemy, to remain in Bisley Deeps. They -to BIAD anyway, seemed happy in their
little underground home and in his heart, he was glad that they'd found each other.
How the universe had brought these two lovers together would certainly be a reason for using the word 'bamboozle'.
Tibbs was a Vithian, a Manager of time and a great-thinker. His race had scoured many universes for answers to ancient
mysteries and were widely noted for their wisdom.
Always seen sporting their dark-brown robes and seemingly staying with their own kind, but what many didn't know was that
Vithians also carried the gift of multi-ism, the act of creating oneself over and over again in certain conditions.
So technically, Vithians walked alone -but with many versions of themselves and the only other precedent was that they could
never marry.
Tibbs -it seems, bucked the trend.
The small man with waist-long beard took off his little round spectacles and cleaned them during relating his information.
"I told you from the very start that he was a problem..." Tibbs said softly "...Even Death didn't want anything to do with him"
he growled and roughly strapped the lenses around his well-lined head again.
Boy In A Dress restrained himself from reminding Tibbs that when he and Ninurta had first come across the Vithian, Tibbs was
building a gun to shoot God with and in the Man-Girl's view, that attempt would really warrant the heading 'problem'.
But the room remained quiet as the trio contemplated the inevitable, that of once more retrieving their friend and through that
action, probably saving many lives.
Muckles caressed the smooth pebbles and without thoughts of decorum, furnished Boy In A Dress and her husband to the vista
of her bare ass. She always scratched that cracked -yet still pert (in Tibbs' opinion) part of her anatomy when at a crossroads
of a decision that she wasn't happy about.
"Dear... don't do that" Tibbs said and placed his empty cup back onto the small table.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.