Ahem, this week we did not have a sufficient number of entries. So I had to use some ingenuity to find diamonds in the rough. As you know, this week's theme was futuristic poetry.
The third prize hereby goes to...
Zany Zanes You stuck your hand in fire, Could you fault it for the burn? When these things they happen, They're meant to help us learn. Life's little lessons, We take them each in turn. Though they might be hard, They help us see and to discern.
Hey, it may not be a futuristic poem but at least they submitted something, didn't they?
Alright, now, for the much-coveted second prize...
Claibornia Hey, can I get a gezwettin frogyut? I couldn't find it on the menu.
I don't know what the mew gezwettin frogyut is supposed to be, but it sounds futuristic to me.
A soulful futuristic haiku from our slobbery friend. Like a broken clock, the poochie will show you the right time twice a day (well, approximately). Reading the cadences of dog barks and woofs, one can easily be transported to a futuristic landscape dominated by cyborg dogs. Well done, poochie, congrats! You can have the bones of my next chicken drumstick order.
I'm vaguely flattered, but you're going to have to try harder to provoke me. Especially when you can be distracted by a bit of feathers at the end of a string. Get the feathers, kitty!--Get 'em!
*The sheikah slate lying on the counter boots up, turning on a mini tracking beam like a guardian and using it as a laser pointer, first pointing it just in front of the cat before pointing it beneath some of the tables, chasing customers, running it back along the wall full of mouse holes, stopping for a moment behind Zany Zanes to give the cat a chance to pounce before quickly snapping it over to the kitchen doors, pausing a moment once more before pointing it right at Brocklandia*
The chess tourney will require plenty of drinks, Brocklandia, we may need to pre-order some ;)... (ahh this is like the twelve days of no big banks event all over again)
Who knows what might happen, after we start mixing drinks??
Our lack of banks means we are unable to afford big expensive orders :P We shall just take the common stuff, and a few expensive brews to impress the guests O.o
Just because you lack banks doesn't mean somebody there doesn't have a mattress or three stuffed with currency. Or gold bars ... though I bet gold bars are difficult to sleep on.
Tell you what: Give me twenty or fifty gold bars, and I'll sleep on them for five or ten years and then report back on what the experience was like.
Grabs the dog bowl between its teeth and employs the dreaded and irresistible deep, dark, and hypnotisingly soulful, "puppy-dog eyes" - that tug on heartstrings and pull you in like the blackholes to the Void that they are...
We are the Dogs. Resistance is futile. Your bartenders will adapt to service us.
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