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Description
The Tale of a Drunken Woman

If you ever visit the town of Shade at least three things will strike you; there are only drunken women there, drunken women are everywhere and a drunken woman wielding a bottle.

The sentence above is the first line in the famous book Guide to Shade written by Jack Llomer. After releasing the book Jack discovered previously unknown levels of fame, of course his appearance had more effect on his reputation than his writing, which in fact was quite horrible. However, this did by no means make his statement false, you couldn’t be closer to the truth as a matter of fact.

One of all these drunken women, a very certain one but still she was of no importance. She was certainly not important. Importantly certain if not. Certain port fimoni. What? Excuse me, I’m speaking nonsense again. She lived in a two-story house in the middle of Shade with three other drunken women. None of these three others were of such little importance as the first mentioned. Something they all envied her for.

The first mentioned, the drunken woman of no importance had just visited the local butcher to get the meat she would need for the following days. The butcher, who’s name was Alberta cried when she sliced up the big pieces of meat, just like many people cry when they cut onion, of course it was of a completely different reason she cried. She cried because she thought of the poor cattle that had been killed and now were being sliced up by her, Alberta was a vegetarian and she had been since her birth. Actually, her mother told her just before she passed away that Alberta’s first sentence had been “Poor animals being killed”, her very first word had been “pooranimalsbeingkilled”, quite far from the most common first words among the younger bunch of drunken women, which were simple phrases such as “beer”, “ale” and “brandy”. Though this is the tale of a drunken woman and not the tale of a vegetarian butcher who’s first word was “pooranimalsbeingkilled”.

Outside the drunken woman of no importance’s house were a couple of children playing. At least that is what she assumed they were doing, they were throwing empty bottles at the steady wall of bricks in a disgusting, stomach wrenching shade of yellow. A wall. A wall that was familiar to the drunken woman of no importance. It was her wall.
“Hey, you” she yelled and raced towards the young ones, “What do you think you are doing?”
“Mind your own business”, was the answer she got from the oldest of the children.
“My house, my business. Your bottles, your fault. I’m great, you’re not. I win.”
The children stared confused at her before the oldest took a step forward and raised her fists as if to fight. The drunken woman of no importance’s response to this action was simple, she did the same thing, raised her fists and started the battle by slapping the girl in front of her.
The battle was going for a long time, it was a fierce battle including pulling hair, scratching faces and kicking each other in places that shouldn’t be mentioned. But now they are mentioned, aren’t they? In lack of better things to do, the drunken woman of no importance sat down. Simply lowered her fists and sat down.
“This is madness”, she said quietly.
“No”, the girl replied, “this is Shade.”

Chapter One

“I challenge you”
“What?”
“You heard me, I challenge you”
“Challenge me?”
“Yes, in mathematics”

The dialogue was a bit longer but to make this suitable for all kind of people in the era of political correctness words had to be removed, edited and eaten. Words are quite tasty after all. The real challenge was about a traditional drinking game they had in Shade, but that would be a very nasty thing for a little girl to do, wouldn’t it? There would also have been a chance that people living outside of Europe thought all Europeans did such things. Of course they do, but that’s not my point. Mathematics is both a longer word which makes the girl sound more sophisticated and intelligent while it also might make more young people to do their homework.

Yeah, right.

Mathematics was something that the drunken woman of no importance never had bothered to understand. She therefore lost the challenge and was executed shortly after. No, I’m just kidding, that would be no good end would it? The drunken woman of no importance only lost her house to this little girl. The girl giggled and, closely followed by her friends, went into her new home. What she hadn’t expected was the man on the floor just before the entrance. If she had expected it or not didn’t matter though, he still lay there, facing the wooden floor.
“Boo”, a somewhat inebriated lady in the corner of the room gazed upon the newcomer. The lady’s companion, yes, the man on the floor grunted and rose up quite elegantly.
“Welcome to the house of flowers” he said.

Several hours later sat the girl, the very one that had beaten the drunken woman of no importance in drin… mathematics, and her friends in the kitchen peeling bananas. She wondered why things never worked well for her. Never before had she felt so happy as when she won the house but when finding out it would order her to peel bananas, she regretted bothering the now homeless drunken woman of no importance.

The homeless drunken woman of no importance herself had just entered The Empty Tankard, everyone’s favourite tavern. She walked straight up to the bar and ordered a glass of alcohol. Pure alcohol.

Chapter Two

After emptying her fifth glass of alcohol, the drunken woman of no importance turned around to face the man beside her. Strange really, that she had encountered so many men lately, there was only one man living in Shade as far as she knew and that was that plant-lunatic that once had offered her a bunch of dandelions. An offer she politely had refused and quickly left the place. The man beside her looked like the man of all drunken women’s dreams, however, his face looked familiar to her. She had seen that face before. It was none else than Jack Llomer – the lousy writer with the beautiful appearance – that sat beside the homeless drunken woman of no importance. Ironically, she was the one that had struck him with a bottle too. Jack however didn’t pay any attention to her and after another drink he passed out.
“Just my luck”, she said and exited the building.

Outside the tavern she met a beaver, a toad and a young guy with messy hair but was too intoxicated to notice anything special. She strolled… well, kind of, down the main street of Shade. She passed shady alley after shady alley from one which another man ran into her. Yes, ran into her. Not bumping into her. Running into her in full speed making her fly a couple of meters, this was something she would have enjoyed, who wouldn’t enjoy flying? But the landing spoiled the whole experience. You never want to land on an Italian. An Italian?
“Grazie”, she said in her drunken slur – it was the only word she knew in Italian.
“Bedankt*”, he said and ran away.

The man that had ran into the homeless drunken woman of no importance rapidly got in his feet and escaped an embarrassing situating by disappearing into the inexistent crowd around them. She, however, kept lying there. It was quite comfortable surprisingly enough and she had no home to go back to. Oh well, she thought and started counting stars. From the tavern nearby she could hear La Marseillaise being played. She had merely counted to forty-two stars when she fell asleep on the cold cobblestone street.

* Bedankt is an odd plant, only growing in the city of Shade. With its red, yellow and orange flowers and its black leaves make it look like it is burning. It probably is too, wouldn’t you also want to burn if you looked like that? Honestly. Bedankt is also a term of appreciation in one of the most foreign and lesser-known accents of odd languages on the continent of Europe. Some call it Dutch while some simply call it grunting.

Chapter Three

Running through lands made of chocolate, looking up at skies made of sugar and eating things made of rubber. Rubber? That’s neither tasty nor something you would dream of, she thought and pinched her toe. She didn’t wake up. Odd. The distinct taste of rubber slowly changed, forming a taste of leather. Leather boot to be exact.

The homeless drunken woman of no importance woke up as a tall man passed her. A man wearing a black cloak, nothing wrong with that, she just observed the fact that the man wore a black cloak this morning. She rose and followed him only to tell him about her observations – something like “Hello, you are wearing a black cloak”. What she really said was “You must be the king of Northern Italy”. The man looked frightened at her and he hurried into the square. Apart from a couple of elder drunken women the town square was empty this early. The drunken woman of no importance remained still, kept observing the peculiar man when he tried to climb up on an outdoor table. When he had almost made it a bolt flew through the air, the bolt didn’t behave like bolts usually did however – this bolt wasn’t flying in a straight line towards the prey, it was flying around in circles, making rude gestures with what supposedly would have been its hands. After a long and quite amusing flight it carefully landed in the drunken woman of no importance.

At the very same time many, many miles away the king of Northern Italy and his men were defeated in a quite bloody and violent battle. They fought over the rights to call themselves Italians. Their hostile enemies were none else than the Japanese samurai warriors. What they did in Italy is still not known to man.

You might believe this is a short chapter. A text really too short to be called a chapter, merely being long enough for one paragraph, I beg to differ. Differ, is quite an interesting individual actually, last time I saw him he was strolling around the graveyard searching for fairies. Come on, everyone knows you can only find fairies in the forest.

Chapter Four

The bright and happy realm of death is quite an interesting place. Many speak of it, about their wishes to get there soon. People call them crazy and depressed. Well, only because you wear black clothes, black make-up and cut your wrists, you don’t have to be depressed do you? Now where did I put my razors?

Another excerpt from Jack Llomer’s Guide to Shade. Still horrible and still wrong. Hopefully, for the sake of everyone’s insanity Jack won’t appear anymore in this story.

The bright and happy realm of death is an interesting place however, it is up in the air, just like everyone had assumed. It is ruled by Mother Earth’s rival Father Water. Father Water is as one could figure out, made of water. Water is an interesting element, containing both hydrogen and oxygen which together with fire causes explosions. Father Water is big, plenty of hydrogen and oxygen. Pyromaniacs and teenagers find it terribly fun to ignite his clothes. BOOOM. That is what you guys on Earth call thunder.

That last sentence suggests I’m not on Earth, that is correct, otherwise I wouldn’t write something that would suggest it, would I? I also like repeating words, but that is another story. I’m actually in the bright and happy realm of death as well as the homeless drunken woman that obviously is of less importance now when she has perished. You probably wonder what I’m doing here but I assure you, you don’t want to know. My story wouldn’t fit in this chapter either – it is the Tale of a Drunken Woman after all and I don’t look like a drunken woman now do I?

Wandering around by the purple trees on the cotton-like clouds the drunken woman of no importance felt happier than ever before. She was followed by two cute rabbits with humongous fangs, just imagine it, a rabbit with fangs even bigger than the actual body. Looks hilarious. She had just gone through the golden gates of this realm, entered a world she only knew from false legends. The blue bird at the gate had told her to seek up Father Water as soon as possible, he liked to meet everyone entering his lovely part of the universe. Polite as she was she now hurried to his watery palace in between the middle of nowhere and the west of somewhere. Little did she know that hurrying never was good in the bright and happy realm of death.

Skipping behind her was Ethelle, the rabbit. She had just finished her one thousandth drawing of a yellow man from a world just as imaginary as the bright and happy realm of death when she had spotted the drunken woman passing by. Lacking the inspiration to write about this yellow man she had followed her, perhaps something interesting would happen. Excitement rose when rabbit number two joined her. Rabbit number two seemed to share her interests, following drunken women that is.
When the drunken woman of no importance was so close to the palace that she almost could touch its damp brick walls she started to run. Run so fast that she against all physical rules invented by apple catching gentlemen ran through the solid walls. Reaching the enormous throne room she pulled her imaginary breaks and she ceased to run, obviously. However, things didn’t go as expected, she had knocked over a marble pillar when running. The pillar fell, crashing into the valuable chandelier which landed on Father Water. His clothes were ignited and the whole palace exploded in a soaked mess of marble, bricks, servants and rabbits. The drunken woman herself flew many, many miles right into a block of soap, it was not a pleasant experience but it was fatal to her. It was the foamy end of the drunken woman.

Many of you probably wonder about her last thoughts. People’s last words are often very popular, her was “Can you die when you’re already dead?” Thankfully, I was there to answer her question. “Obviously” was what I said but when I finally had made up what I thought was a witty reply, she had passed on to unknown location.

Description
The Tale of a Drunken Woman

If you ever visit the town of Shade at least three things will strike you; there are only drunken women there, drunken women are everywhere and a drunken woman wielding a bottle.

The sentence above is the first line in the famous book Guide to Shade written by Jack Llomer. After releasing the book Jack discovered previously unknown levels of fame, of course his appearance had more effect on his reputation than his writing, which in fact was quite horrible. However, this did by no means make his statement false, you couldn’t be closer to the truth as a matter of fact.

One of all these drunken women, a very certain one but still she was of no importance. She was certainly not important. Importantly certain if not. Certain port fimoni. What? Excuse me, I’m speaking nonsense again. She lived in a two-story house in the middle of Shade with three other drunken women. None of these three others were of such little importance as the first mentioned. Something they all envied her for.

The first mentioned, the drunken woman of no importance had just visited the local butcher to get the meat she would need for the following days. The butcher, who’s name was Alberta cried when she sliced up the big pieces of meat, just like many people cry when they cut onion, of course it was of a completely different reason she cried. She cried because she thought of the poor cattle that had been killed and now were being sliced up by her, Alberta was a vegetarian and she had been since her birth. Actually, her mother told her just before she passed away that Alberta’s first sentence had been “Poor animals being killed”, her very first word had been “pooranimalsbeingkilled”, quite far from the most common first words among the younger bunch of drunken women, which were simple phrases such as “beer”, “ale” and “brandy”. Though this is the tale of a drunken woman and not the tale of a vegetarian butcher who’s first word was “pooranimalsbeingkilled”.

Outside the drunken woman of no importance’s house were a couple of children playing. At least that is what she assumed they were doing, they were throwing empty bottles at the steady wall of bricks in a disgusting, stomach wrenching shade of yellow. A wall. A wall that was familiar to the drunken woman of no importance. It was her wall.
“Hey, you” she yelled and raced towards the young ones, “What do you think you are doing?”
“Mind your own business”, was the answer she got from the oldest of the children.
“My house, my business. Your bottles, your fault. I’m great, you’re not. I win.”
The children stared confused at her before the oldest took a step forward and raised her fists as if to fight. The drunken woman of no importance’s response to this action was simple, she did the same thing, raised her fists and started the battle by slapping the girl in front of her.
The battle was going for a long time, it was a fierce battle including pulling hair, scratching faces and kicking each other in places that shouldn’t be mentioned. But now they are mentioned, aren’t they? In lack of better things to do, the drunken woman of no importance sat down. Simply lowered her fists and sat down.
“This is madness”, she said quietly.
“No”, the girl replied, “this is Shade.”

Chapter One

“I challenge you”
“What?”
“You heard me, I challenge you”
“Challenge me?”
“Yes, in mathematics”

The dialogue was a bit longer but to make this suitable for all kind of people in the era of political correctness words had to be removed, edited and eaten. Words are quite tasty after all. The real challenge was about a traditional drinking game they had in Shade, but that would be a very nasty thing for a little girl to do, wouldn’t it? There would also have been a chance that people living outside of Europe thought all Europeans did such things. Of course they do, but that’s not my point. Mathematics is both a longer word which makes the girl sound more sophisticated and intelligent while it also might make more young people to do their homework.

Yeah, right.

Mathematics was something that the drunken woman of no importance never had bothered to understand. She therefore lost the challenge and was executed shortly after. No, I’m just kidding, that would be no good end would it? The drunken woman of no importance only lost her house to this little girl. The girl giggled and, closely followed by her friends, went into her new home. What she hadn’t expected was the man on the floor just before the entrance. If she had expected it or not didn’t matter though, he still lay there, facing the wooden floor.
“Boo”, a somewhat inebriated lady in the corner of the room gazed upon the newcomer. The lady’s companion, yes, the man on the floor grunted and rose up quite elegantly.
“Welcome to the house of flowers” he said.

Several hours later sat the girl, the very one that had beaten the drunken woman of no importance in drin… mathematics, and her friends in the kitchen peeling bananas. She wondered why things never worked well for her. Never before had she felt so happy as when she won the house but when finding out it would order her to peel bananas, she regretted bothering the now homeless drunken woman of no importance.

The homeless drunken woman of no importance herself had just entered The Empty Tankard, everyone’s favourite tavern. She walked straight up to the bar and ordered a glass of alcohol. Pure alcohol.

Chapter Two

After emptying her fifth glass of alcohol, the drunken woman of no importance turned around to face the man beside her. Strange really, that she had encountered so many men lately, there was only one man living in Shade as far as she knew and that was that plant-lunatic that once had offered her a bunch of dandelions. An offer she politely had refused and quickly left the place. The man beside her looked like the man of all drunken women’s dreams, however, his face looked familiar to her. She had seen that face before. It was none else than Jack Llomer – the lousy writer with the beautiful appearance – that sat beside the homeless drunken woman of no importance. Ironically, she was the one that had struck him with a bottle too. Jack however didn’t pay any attention to her and after another drink he passed out.
“Just my luck”, she said and exited the building.

Outside the tavern she met a beaver, a toad and a young guy with messy hair but was too intoxicated to notice anything special. She strolled… well, kind of, down the main street of Shade. She passed shady alley after shady alley from one which another man ran into her. Yes, ran into her. Not bumping into her. Running into her in full speed making her fly a couple of meters, this was something she would have enjoyed, who wouldn’t enjoy flying? But the landing spoiled the whole experience. You never want to land on an Italian. An Italian?
“Grazie”, she said in her drunken slur – it was the only word she knew in Italian.
“Bedankt*”, he said and ran away.

The man that had ran into the homeless drunken woman of no importance rapidly got in his feet and escaped an embarrassing situating by disappearing into the inexistent crowd around them. She, however, kept lying there. It was quite comfortable surprisingly enough and she had no home to go back to. Oh well, she thought and started counting stars. From the tavern nearby she could hear La Marseillaise being played. She had merely counted to forty-two stars when she fell asleep on the cold cobblestone street.

* Bedankt is an odd plant, only growing in the city of Shade. With its red, yellow and orange flowers and its black leaves make it look like it is burning. It probably is too, wouldn’t you also want to burn if you looked like that? Honestly. Bedankt is also a term of appreciation in one of the most foreign and lesser-known accents of odd languages on the continent of Europe. Some call it Dutch while some simply call it grunting.

Chapter Three

Running through lands made of chocolate, looking up at skies made of sugar and eating things made of rubber. Rubber? That’s neither tasty nor something you would dream of, she thought and pinched her toe. She didn’t wake up. Odd. The distinct taste of rubber slowly changed, forming a taste of leather. Leather boot to be exact.

The homeless drunken woman of no importance woke up as a tall man passed her. A man wearing a black cloak, nothing wrong with that, she just observed the fact that the man wore a black cloak this morning. She rose and followed him only to tell him about her observations – something like “Hello, you are wearing a black cloak”. What she really said was “You must be the king of Northern Italy”. The man looked frightened at her and he hurried into the square. Apart from a couple of elder drunken women the town square was empty this early. The drunken woman of no importance remained still, kept observing the peculiar man when he tried to climb up on an outdoor table. When he had almost made it a bolt flew through the air, the bolt didn’t behave like bolts usually did however – this bolt wasn’t flying in a straight line towards the prey, it was flying around in circles, making rude gestures with what supposedly would have been its hands. After a long and quite amusing flight it carefully landed in the drunken woman of no importance.

At the very same time many, many miles away the king of Northern Italy and his men were defeated in a quite bloody and violent battle. They fought over the rights to call themselves Italians. Their hostile enemies were none else than the Japanese samurai warriors. What they did in Italy is still not known to man.

You might believe this is a short chapter. A text really too short to be called a chapter, merely being long enough for one paragraph, I beg to differ. Differ, is quite an interesting individual actually, last time I saw him he was strolling around the graveyard searching for fairies. Come on, everyone knows you can only find fairies in the forest.

Chapter Four

The bright and happy realm of death is quite an interesting place. Many speak of it, about their wishes to get there soon. People call them crazy and depressed. Well, only because you wear black clothes, black make-up and cut your wrists, you don’t have to be depressed do you? Now where did I put my razors?

Another excerpt from Jack Llomer’s Guide to Shade. Still horrible and still wrong. Hopefully, for the sake of everyone’s insanity Jack won’t appear anymore in this story.

The bright and happy realm of death is an interesting place however, it is up in the air, just like everyone had assumed. It is ruled by Mother Earth’s rival Father Water. Father Water is as one could figure out, made of water. Water is an interesting element, containing both hydrogen and oxygen which together with fire causes explosions. Father Water is big, plenty of hydrogen and oxygen. Pyromaniacs and teenagers find it terribly fun to ignite his clothes. BOOOM. That is what you guys on Earth call thunder.

That last sentence suggests I’m not on Earth, that is correct, otherwise I wouldn’t write something that would suggest it, would I? I also like repeating words, but that is another story. I’m actually in the bright and happy realm of death as well as the homeless drunken woman that obviously is of less importance now when she has perished. You probably wonder what I’m doing here but I assure you, you don’t want to know. My story wouldn’t fit in this chapter either – it is the Tale of a Drunken Woman after all and I don’t look like a drunken woman now do I?

Wandering around by the purple trees on the cotton-like clouds the drunken woman of no importance felt happier than ever before. She was followed by two cute rabbits with humongous fangs, just imagine it, a rabbit with fangs even bigger than the actual body. Looks hilarious. She had just gone through the golden gates of this realm, entered a world she only knew from false legends. The blue bird at the gate had told her to seek up Father Water as soon as possible, he liked to meet everyone entering his lovely part of the universe. Polite as she was she now hurried to his watery palace in between the middle of nowhere and the west of somewhere. Little did she know that hurrying never was good in the bright and happy realm of death.

Skipping behind her was Ethelle, the rabbit. She had just finished her one thousandth drawing of a yellow man from a world just as imaginary as the bright and happy realm of death when she had spotted the drunken woman passing by. Lacking the inspiration to write about this yellow man she had followed her, perhaps something interesting would happen. Excitement rose when rabbit number two joined her. Rabbit number two seemed to share her interests, following drunken women that is.
When the drunken woman of no importance was so close to the palace that she almost could touch its damp brick walls she started to run. Run so fast that she against all physical rules invented by apple catching gentlemen ran through the solid walls. Reaching the enormous throne room she pulled her imaginary breaks and she ceased to run, obviously. However, things didn’t go as expected, she had knocked over a marble pillar when running. The pillar fell, crashing into the valuable chandelier which landed on Father Water. His clothes were ignited and the whole palace exploded in a soaked mess of marble, bricks, servants and rabbits. The drunken woman herself flew many, many miles right into a block of soap, it was not a pleasant experience but it was fatal to her. It was the foamy end of the drunken woman.

Many of you probably wonder about her last thoughts. People’s last words are often very popular, her was “Can you die when you’re already dead?” Thankfully, I was there to answer her question. “Obviously” was what I said but when I finally had made up what I thought was a witty reply, she had passed on to unknown location.