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Match Game Story: Lord Melbourne Rabbitraper was excited at his new bespoke suit's ____ stitching. (Original Post) Rabrrrrrr Apr 2013 OP
Kicking. Rabrrrrrr Apr 2013 #1
I agree, and will kurtzapril4 Apr 2013 #5
Lord Melbourne Rabbitraper was excited at his new bespoke suit's... Chellee Apr 2013 #2
Well done! Bravo! Rabrrrrrr Apr 2013 #3
Thank you. Chellee Apr 2013 #6
Dr Who In_The_Wind Apr 2013 #4
Lord Melbourne Rabbitraper was excited at his new bespoke suit's attached rabbit carcasses. Rabrrrrrr Apr 2013 #7
I do love a good game of kick the head. Dr. Strange Apr 2013 #8
Let's do this thing. Dr. Strange Apr 2013 #9
Ar that be a good one! Rabrrrrrr Apr 2013 #10
It's a mystery. Dr. Strange Apr 2013 #11
I don't like cilantro. Tastes like soap. Rabrrrrrr Apr 2013 #12

Rabrrrrrr

(58,347 posts)
1. Kicking.
Sun Apr 14, 2013, 07:00 PM
Apr 2013

Have you ever seen a thread kicked so perfectly? This is the goddamn supenova of a massive black hole of thread kicking.

People will write about this particular thread kick for more years than we have numbers for in this early stage of human evolution. Even Dr. Who will shit his drawers at how long this lives in the memory of the universe.

kurtzapril4

(1,353 posts)
5. I agree, and will
Mon Apr 15, 2013, 08:52 AM
Apr 2013

Kick this massive, black-holey kick of a kick. Does the Tardis have a bathroom? It better.

Chellee

(2,086 posts)
2. Lord Melbourne Rabbitraper was excited at his new bespoke suit's...
Mon Apr 15, 2013, 02:31 AM
Apr 2013

prospects of being completed on time for Lady Higgenbotham-Cholmondeley's upcoming spring fete.

"Winston, another cravat," he said, flinging away the one he was currently holding.

"Yes, milord," his valet replied, handing over the eleventh perfectly crisp neckcloth, while discreetly whisking away the offending tenth contender. Lord Melbourne Rabbitraper was fastidious, some less kind personages might say obsessive, about the sartorial elegance of his cravats. Still, one did what one must. It wouldn't do to be seen about town in a wilted cravat. Deftly, he twisted one end of the fabric while folding the other end over until, critically examining his reflection, he was satisfied with the result. "Pin. Ruby, I should think." Instantly, a ruby cravat pin was placed in his outstretched hand. Completing his ensemble, he nodded to Winston, "There, finished; and in record time too," happily noting that a mere three hours had passed since he had risen to bathe. Collecting his silver phoenix-headed walking stick he quickly exited the house and stepped out into the busy streets of Mayfair and began the ten minute walk to Savile Row.

Everywhere he went, heads turned, which was just as it should be as far as Melbourne was concerned. After all, a man wanted to be noticed, did he not? He often felt that he alone understood what style was. He deplored the boring and depressing influence that upstart Brummell was exerting over the ton. "Hmmph," he snorted, under his breath. "Understated," he thought, "What does that even mean? Why on earth would someone want to have less of a presence?" he wondered. It was even becoming difficult to get his own tailor to comply with his wishes. He'd actually had to become insistent with the man to fulfill his vision of the suit that would put an end to all discussion of Brummell's superiority in fashionable circles. Still, he smiled as he thought of the final fitting for his new suit. "It is going to be stunning," he thought as he arrived at his destination.

"Welcome, milord. Would you care for some refreshment?" Francois asked deferentially.

"I think not; we shall begin immediately."

"But of course, milord, everything is in readiness. If it would please you to step this way?" he said, waving Lord Rabbitraper to the rear of the shop and through a discreetly placed door. Melbourne stepped into a dressing room and immediately saw the suit he had envisioned in the arms of Francois' assistant. "This will make you famous, Francois. This suit will be the discussion come Friday evening, " he gushed.

"Yes, milord," Francois said quietly, struggling to keep the look of chagrin from his face, as he and his assistant began the laborious process of undressing and re-dressing Lord Rabbitraper.

And then, finally, it was done. Melbourne looked in the mirror and beamed at his reflection, resplendent in a closely-fitted cutaway coat of peacock blue. The coat contrasted perfectly with the vermillion waist coat with its silver thread embroidered feathers, and the aubergine knee breeches. His new stockings with the yellow embroidered clock design and green high heeled shoes were shown to perfect advantage. But still, it lacked a certain something. He continued to study his reflection and think, while the tailors stood silently, waiting for the verdict.

"I have it!" he cried. "I know exactly how to make it perfection itself. You must outline the edge of the lapels in orange stitching!"





Rabrrrrrr

(58,347 posts)
3. Well done! Bravo!
Mon Apr 15, 2013, 08:06 AM
Apr 2013


Great story!

that suit sounds precisely un-understated. Green high heels and yellow stockings with clockwork design - fantastic!


Chellee

(2,086 posts)
6. Thank you.
Mon Apr 15, 2013, 09:40 AM
Apr 2013


(Please use your imagination, and pretend that these smilies have morphed into one, and the blushing smilie is smiling. Thank you.)

As for Lord Rabbitraper, he wanted to make a splash.

Rabrrrrrr

(58,347 posts)
7. Lord Melbourne Rabbitraper was excited at his new bespoke suit's attached rabbit carcasses.
Wed Apr 17, 2013, 08:00 AM
Apr 2013

They were handstitched with a precision that he could never have found with the typical off-the-rack garbage one finds at WalMart or JCPenney. No, these rabbits were so perfectly stitched on, after having been lovingly bludgeoned to death with a platinum hammer on a silver platter in the conservatoire of his estate. Of course, he raped them as well. Lovingly raped them. In ways that I fear to mention for I have probably already crossed DU's appropriateness level. But he isn't called Lord Melbourne Rabbitraper because he has a penchant for cheesecake, if you know what I'm saying.

He had the pants and shirt on already, but the real piece de resistance was the coat. The rabbits on each of thighs, two champagne d'argents, hung beautifully like those puffy parts of jodpurs. The himalayan that was used in place of the buttons was perfectly vertical, holding his shirt shut. But the jacket! Oh, the jacket! The lapels were two mini satins (Oh, how he loved his night with them!). So soft, so white. He ran his left hand up and down them. And then smiled as he looked at the bottom of his jacket. It was ringed with english lops, their ears left free to flow so that as he spun they flew out and made it look like he was wearing a skirt. Just what he wanted!!

he spun and spun, and then disaster! One of the lops flew free and was launched at high speed at the window of the tailor shop, shattering it, and hitting a small boy so hard it severed the little bastard's head which fell slowly to the ground as his mother watched in horror. It landed with a thud, and rolled into the gutter. Lord Melbourne Rabbitraper, being a Lord, and a very happy one at that because of his new suit, ran out and kicked the boy's head down the street. The boy's torso was spraying blood, getting on his new suit, and covering his mother with it, as she cradled her now dead son's body. Repulsed at such a brazen show of nostalgic sentimentality by the mom, Lord Melbourne Rabbitraper picked up a dustbin and with blow after painful blow beat her to death, into a bloody pulp, her brains exploding from her head long before he finished.

He kicked her in disgust. The crowd clapped, because they knew that the laws were only for suckwads like them, not decent holy people like Lords.

he sighed, and went back into the tailor shop and picked up a cup of Sherry.

Addressing the tailor, he laughed, and said, "My good man, it appears that rabbit was held on with some not-ready-for-prime-time stitching."

Dr. Strange

(25,898 posts)
9. Let's do this thing.
Wed Apr 17, 2013, 12:40 PM
Apr 2013

Lord Melbourne Rabbitraper was excited at his new bespoke suit's design: it was an all-natural sand trout stillsuit. Bless the maker, this fucking suit would make him a hit at the sietch parties and finally give him a chance to stand against the cursed Leto II.

Shroud yourself in sandtrout and take over the empire? Well, two can play at that game!

Melbourne sat in the kitchenof his apartment in Arakeen, admiring the suit. He consumed the spice-laden tater tots that he had just cooked. His mind shrouded in confusion. He could feel his tongue, as if it were beginning to assert its own sentience. It seemed to awaken, and scream. Melbourne, tuned to his tongue’s inner eye, screamed out in sympathy. “THESE TOTS ARE MAKING ME THIRSTY!”

He groped around the table for some water or spice beer. Anything to quench his Fremen thirst. At last, his hands fell upon a jar that his wife had left on the table. It was filled with liquid! He gulped it greedily.

“What are you doing?” Rhonda screamed. She was a good Fremen wife, always keeping track of the belongings of Sietch Fruitloop. Today, she was tasked with holding onto the jar which contained the tribe’s Water of Life. The jar was a light blue. On its side, the jar was decorated with poetry and some pictures of erotica, because Rule 34 applied on Arrakis. And the jar was now empty, having been used by Lord Melbourne to slake his raging spice tot thirst.

“Ar!” replied Melbourne. “Ar ar ar ar ar.”

“You drank the Water of Life!” Rhonda exclaimed.

“Ar ar ar ar ar?”

“Stop saying ‘ar’! What are we going to do?”

Melbourne’s head swam in a sea of wtfery. The Water of Life! Many men have tried to drink it. And they didn't just try and fail. They tried and died. Shit was about to get real!

“Ar.” Every nerve in his body awakened in an orgy of prana bindu bacchanalia. “Ar.”

Astonishingly, Melbourne survived the Agony. But he paid a price: his vocabulary was reduced to “AR”. Every time he spoke, that was the only sound he could create.

After many years, the people of Dune got quite tired of his ar-ing. Even the God Emperor himself. And he set forth a decree: as a consequence of Lord Melbourne’s attempt to don the sand trouty mantel of the Tyrant, the name of Arrakis would be stricken of its “Ar” and henceforth referred to only as Rakis.

And thus was the name of the planet changed. And lo, few people spoke of it, because they weren’t happy. Especially the seamstresses, who had to alter all of the Arrakis flags with their ar-less stitching.

Rabrrrrrr

(58,347 posts)
10. Ar that be a good one!
Wed Apr 17, 2013, 08:04 PM
Apr 2013

but what happened to the suit?

Did it end up being displayed with the bull that killed the father of Leto I?

Or did one of Duncan's ghola forms turn it into a Yoda costume for some Rakiseen Halloween debutante ball?

Dr. Strange

(25,898 posts)
11. It's a mystery.
Thu Apr 18, 2013, 01:05 PM
Apr 2013

After a long life, Melbourne just walked out into the small bit of desert remaining on (Ar)rakis. With his suit, he dove into the sand, and the sand trout left him, each with a tiny pearl of Melbourne's awareness. A tiny, tiny, pearl. Microscopic really.

Legend has it that some of those sand trout were transplanted to another planet, where the worms returned. But instead of producing melange, they all produced a cilantro-like substance that added a little flavor to Mexican dishes, as long as you didn't use too much.

Rabrrrrrr

(58,347 posts)
12. I don't like cilantro. Tastes like soap.
Thu Apr 18, 2013, 10:59 PM
Apr 2013
That was odd thing to say, thought Thufir. I only told the Baron that I thought he might consider getting some larger suspensors, as he seems to be floating lower than a few months ago.
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