Sorry, Matt and Griff and other people I ought to be staying up to chat with, but I'm falling-asleep-tired and really do have to go to bed.
Take a big *smoooooooooo*ch as a raincheck?
Either I've developed a new allergy (but yay, horse chestnut season is over!), or I'm going down with some kind of sinusy nose thing.
Time to take Sinutabs and drink stuff. Speaking of which, I lost my Vanilla Coke virginity yesterday. I wasn't hugely impressed; but then, I'm a Dr Pepper or Mountain Dew (oh please please please start selling it in the UK again!) guy mostly.
And woohoo, I actually got to use the term lèse majesté for real today. Go me.
Probably it's having had a bath and soaking the fluff and chippings that we wombats use instead of brains, but for a full minute this evening I had it firmly fixed in my head that James Joyce wrote LoTR.
Supposing he had?
So. The challenge:
Write a ficlet or drabble based on a famous work as though it had been written by someone else.
I'll try to do one when my brain is less mucus-sodden. I'm tempted to do Frankenstein by Jane Austen. Or perhaps Pollyanna by Samuel Beckett.