13! That's 13,000, ah ah ah!

[Whatever]

What lampposts? Even I don't remember that. Unless it was a private joke, that might be why...

 

[Beebers]

What lampposts? Even I don't remember that. Unless it was a private joke, that might be why...

That was AndyWan and I, who are both possessed of the inexplicable extraordinary power to extinguish streetlights simply by passing by or under them. It must be our electrifying personalities.

 

[Beebers]

Viva la revolucion du chocolat du leit!

Indeed and ditto.

 

[Beauregard]

There once was a Writer named Beau
Whose career was All Systems Go
But he got all entwined
In post counts divine
At the time, it seemed apropos

They say he's been seen in Bordeaux
Streetbegging with upturned chapeaux
Others say he's been gamblin'
Playing poker and ramblin'
About writing books - that's Beau

*intake of breath, holds, exhalation of breath*

She wrote me a poem! A limerick, a thingame!

Awww! Thanks Beebers! And nice work on the rhymeing there.

Beau

 

[The Count]

Yep... Seems Andy Won and Beebers share the mental powers equaled by Professor Dumbledor's putter-outer.
That, and those clown dancing shoes.

 

[Beebers]

That's great, Beebers! I also love how you still have your Christmas avatar.

Very nice to see you, Vic. I'll always have that avvie, 365 days a year.

 

[Beauregard]

Very nice to see you, Vic. I'll always have that avvie, 365 days a year.

*dances and hugs avatar*

Oh, by the way Beebers, I havn't e-mailed you back before because I didn't expect to see you around so soon. I'll go mail either now or tomorrow morning (is late now...)

 

[Effralyo]

Congrats Gardy! A baker's dozen!
*pouts straight away and thinks* So could doI if I had something to type on!

 

[Beebers]

Beebers, I'll go mail either now or tomorrow morning (is late now...)

*crash of thunder, bolts of lightning*

ah ah ahhh . . . that's zero, zero e-mails, ah ah ah.

 

[christyb]

*walks by dangling keys*

Oh! Sorry Beebers I forgot to tell you. Beau has a tendency to get himself locked in the closet. *holds up a platter of muffins* Muffin?