Facebook Shenanigans, or, Why I Adore My Friends

It has become my habit to post the last few lines of whatever I've written that day on my facebook page. On occasion, someone will "like" the post. Yesterday was rather extraordinary and very, very amusing.

I've recreated it for you below, typographical errors and all:

Cap'n S. M. Carrière

The angry flash in his eyes became a savage glow. Ethan stepped back, for the first time genuinely afraid. With a snarl, the king attacked again. Ethan hadn’t a hope in the world.
Quick slice after quick slice came at him, from seemingly every direction at once. He stepped back, to the side and backwards again, barely keeping his balance. Three savage blows he had no choice to parry cost him his weapon. The blade snapped at the hilt.
“Shit!” Ethan said.

And now I'm going to play games.

And then this happened:

P.M.: shit is right...

P.M.: that's why you need differentially tempered steel

P.M.: if you jut quench the whole thing it ends up being brittle...

P.M.: remind me to take ethan sword shopping

P.M.: of course the elf has am unfair advantage knowing steel and magic....

J.M-B.: i better show up and save ethan's sorry ass. he sounds doomed.

P.M.: how come I'm not in the story?

P.M.: wouldn't have needed saving if I was he'd have had a better sword

J.M-B.: well where the hell are you phil? get it together man! ethan needs us!!!

P.M.: alright let me get a horse. now all I need is a hill to come over...

J.M-B.: for crying out loud you don't need a horse. TELEPORT.

P.M.: but then how can I be the cavalry coming to the respect to the blare of trumpets? how can I be the knite in shining armour?

J.M-B.: it's only knights in shining armour that need horses and trumpets. knites in shining armour arrive via teleportation.

P.M.: true... can I say Ni?

P.M.: as I teleport in?

Me: Ah hah hah! I love you guys!

J.M-B: yeah i can allow that. ni away. just arrive already before ethan becomes mincemeat.

P.M.: The angry flash in his eyes became a savage glow. Ethan stepped back, for the first time genuinely afraid. With a snarl, the king attacked again. Ethan hadn’t a hope in the world.

Quick slice after quick slice came at him, from seemingly every direction at once. He stepped back, to the side and backwards again, barely keeping his balance. Three savage blows he had no choice to parry cost him his weapon. The blade snapped at the hilt.
“Shit!” Ethan said.

P.M.: Suddenly the king stopped and looked over his head, his brow creased in puzzlement. He seemed to hear something that no one else could.

Ethan was puzzled but wasn't about the waste the reprieve he'd been given. But just as he was about to reach the back of the kings head with the viciously swung pommel the King ducked. As he turned to face him with a snarl distorting his royal face Ethan knew he was going to die

P.M.: And then he heard it too. With an annoying "Ni" Phil the Great and Powerful Master of Swordplay and Wit popped into existence and gave Ethan a stern look.

"I'm not sure what you were thinking" he intoned "picking that piece of shit sword. Inferior quality steel and entire quenches in salt water? I'm surprised you didn't shatter every time you thought vaguely of waving it around in that ghastly parody of grace you so delusionally call sword play"

J.M-B.: you tell him.

P.M.: The king was slowly backing away with fear in his eyes as the supremely awesome Phil, lord of Awesomeness began to expound on carbon content, phase diagrams, ductile strength and hardness numbers.

P.M.: ‎"Look at this" he finally wound down "This is a sword. Feel the balance, see the temper mark, DON'T touch to edge you blithering imbicile, this one is actually sharp."

P.M.: Ethan took the sword with the proper reverence such an august personage and such a beautiful weapon demanded. As he experimentally swung it back and forth the almighty Phil, destroyer of worlds and saviour of souls pronounced:

"Now try again and this time try don't come whining to me expecting some sort of deus ex machina intervention if you're too incompetent to know good steel"

P.M.: Ethan took the sword with the proper reverence such an august personage and such a beautiful weapon demanded. As he experimentally swung it back and forth the almighty Phil, destroyer of worlds and saviour of souls pronounced:

"Now try again and this time try don't come whining to me expecting some sort of deus ex machina intervention if you're too incompetent to know good steel"

P.M.: And with a finally supremely annoying "Ni!" The Phil vanished

J.M-B.: now sonia doesn't need to bother writing tomorrow, you just saved her story. BEST ENDING EVER.

P.M.: Well you did say to save his ass...

P.M.: but that's not even close to 3000 words

J.M-B.: it's so awesome it doesn't need to actually be 3000 words to count as 3000 words.

K.R.: I agree - very awesome! Just curious: Are there any loud noises accompanying the teleportation, such as a boom or sucking in of air as The Phil appears and disappears? Or the twinkling and chiming of the heavens lining up for such an illustrious event?

And this is all the stuff you miss out on, when you're not on my facebook page. Shame on you.

Incidentally, P.M. really should take up writing himself!

Alright, I'm done. Back to writing. I'm almost there!

Black Ox

"The black ox has trod on his foot," he has fallen into decay or adveristy.

- Walter Skeat's Glossary of Tudor and Stuart Words, 1914

Black oxen were scrificed to the [Roman] gods of the Lower Regions. The [c. 1546] proverb, "the black ox never trod upon his foot," means he is not married. "The black ox hath trampled on him" is an equivalent of "He is henpecked."

- Albert Hyamson's Dictionary of English Phrases, 1922

The black ox is said to tramp on one who has lost a near relation by death.

- John Jamieson's Etymological Dictionary of the Scottish Language, 1879