the last person to post here wins

"...no, I am not in..." whispered the goblin whose his mind had starting tiptoeing around from under that fained "very interested in life" facade which the goblin usually wore towards the outside world, that is, the outside world today being some snow cold reality of a mundane existence where his "dailylife", and that moneygod, no doubt demanded their dues as ever, ah but on the inside the goblin just pretended not to be in, repeating "...who knows, if I am quiet long enough they might think there's no one home and forget me..." but no, somehow the goblin felt this deception never lasted long enough as invariably "time" discovered the goblin's mental whereabouts and then just opened that door yet again to the outside world letting it all kind of gatecrash the goblin's all too tranquil state of denial here, "...I am not in..." the goblin repeated and repeated but the seconds were growing dangerously close now

This are some good bits.

"I claim this coffee shop in the name of Scribbles Forum", Loved it!

(the goblin liked Urs, "...you'll win here mortal but I promise your wins will be short lived while I am here NYAHAHAHAHAHAHA..." went the goblin friendly as every)

and with that the goblin was looking at this thread with renewed zeal, in fact he felt that he had not been to himself recently probably because he hadn't read the warning on the "dailylife" packs: "warning, dailylife and the petty schemes of the moneygod can seriously distract one from the whole picture"

repost from elsewhere, someone talking about her boyfriend

"...oh yes, teenage romance..." remembers the goblin "...something about baying to the moon till the next moon and promising that there will never be any other moon but only "this moon" forever..." but to this goblin today that was all so many moons ago now

("...I win again..." said the goblin)

on the table lies a letter reading "your bank deposits are perfectly safe with us, promise", also, the British prime minister in the news advises now us to remain optimistic here, somehow the voice in the goblin's head just goes "....if you can lean forward, fold your arms around your knees, and please wait for the call of "brace, brace, brace", thank you..."

the goblin was thinking about this morning's conversation with the driver whose cousin had just died of lung cancer at the age of 42 leaving two young children, "...seems the cousin had hidden the cancer till the last moment, the driver only knowing about it a week ago, and then the death itself yesterday..." mentioned the goblin just shrugging thinking 42 was young, adding "...cigarettes of course..."

the goblin thanked the poster saying "...actually being anonymous I never look at the postcount, hit rate and other external factors, preferring to just try for posting something new each day...", somehow the goblin took "facing the slot" like this seriously, so the goblin just seemed to sit down somewhere forming a triangle of self/coffee/laptop where he would either fish for thoughts or respond to notifications like now, that is, while keeping the best replies for himself, and that was "all it was" the goblin concluded, but unlike trying to please others or trying to prove oneself to them, this selfish goal remains both incorruptible and constant throughout one posting life, "...simply for me it's not some cheap game, it's a Muse's pact..." said the goblin again

"...hi everyone, yes sorry, still squatting on the thread here..." said the goblin who was taking a break by visiting his old folks over the weekend in England, something the goblin did often enough, always remembering to gently shout at the top of one voice, slam the door when entering the room and risk of being slowly drowned in tea and lemon cake, "...more tea..." comes the voice from downstairs followed a the ghost in the silence that seems to still say "...and have you done your homework, had your bath and brushed your teeth yet..."

Parents, have to love them...

(the goblin liked Urs, saying "...you are very brave, mortal, I like people who post here...", as he posted his next)

"...ah, look at the miss set alarm clock Watson...", Holmes pointed across the bed "...ingenious..." Watson replied "...so the zombie we found at the goblin's writing desk came from that...", "...yes, and most probably the work of Mori'Urs'arty and the scriblebot club again, a ploy to stop him from posting most likely...", "...I say Holmes, this just isn't cricket, what's to be done I wonder..." "...no time to explain now Watson, we must retrieve the last post before it falls into their hands...", "...by Jove, brilliant Holmes..." as their steps quickened towards the goblin's computer

(repost from a goth site)

"...be creative..." said the goblin in friendliness towards the posters adding "...ask yourself, what in my life is worth posting and win with it..." or, the goblin laughed "...or you could just type "I win" each time then..." but somehow the goblin knew that with that "I win" all one had won was the post itself, the spot, when it was what one puts into the post that rewards one here, "...there is the philosophy and feeling behind goth, as there is things happening to you all day which pass unnoticed until one tries to capture them with your pen, where is oneself in all this "dailylife" then..." said the goblin across many many "last post" threads staying only where the pull remains strongest, "...an example then, I am on your site because there is strong affinity with death as the reason for giving life its brief beauty, and at the same time I am at the lupusMCTD site because great courage is shown there in face their affliction and its destination..." the goblin's coffee was near finished while the waitress started placing the chairs on the tables, the old man in front busily glued what vision he had left to the magnifying glass just above the newspaper but somehow his younger brain showed behind his older exterior, he was fighting his old age well the goblin thought, his actions were busy as he then went through his belongings on the table, the goblin admired the way he was thinking things out then, "...what is the point of life if we don't even notice it then..." said the goblin once more asking himself "what in my life is worth posting then", waitress called time as this scene ended here but not with a "I win" but with something more creative the goblin felt

I am wondering where the elf went (Leaka)??

("...well the others will turn up when they want to, the important thing always is finding something worth posting here..." said the goblin feeling those who post grow by their posting, something that he had seen time and time again on "last post" threads, adding "...but the funny thing is that one grows in ways that one isn't expecting...", as the goblin posted one of three posts)

[part 1]and suddenly the goblin noticed that there could be no escape from Thursday island he knew as the tropical night had descended too quickly but somewhere out there in the still darkness could be heard the sounds of the creature the natives just called the "abductress", the goblin, kicking himself, had not believed till now, nor heeded their warnings of her powers of seduction, her tantalizing beauty and her insatiable passion for dancing to "country and western" music, the goblin thought of a place to hide saying "...right, quick, under the bed ..." he bent down lifted the bedcover and gasped as her face smiled back saying "...hello goblin, looking for me, shall we dance then, you'll dance for me won't you, it's "country and western"..." as the music started and his body, no longer his, started jigging away

[part 2] still spellbound, the goblin ever dancing to "country and western" music, fought this love-like feeling now rising up within him, yet every passion inside simply seemed attentive to her inescapable looks, her silk soft feel, her sweet smell oh and that angel's voice "...you like our music goblin, don't you just feel like dancing your life away with me now, forever goblin, think about it...", "...no, actually I can't..." he started out to say but then gazing at her perfection, he just lied "...yes the music is moving but...", she gently laughed through the goblin's lie "...think of it, from here at best you'll eventually grow old anyway and die a nobody, ah but no, you could be a hero here, tonight, with me, now, so why live the rest of your little goblin life in a regret that you missed this one big chance since you and I know you want to be a hero, and I can only love a real hero goblin oh but do you really love me enough then goblin...", the music seemed to slow down, their bodies came together and touched, the goblin's thoughts raced through his mind, she was asking the ultimate price in return for her, "...I'm waiting goblin..." running a sharp finger down his back in a tease

[final part] still under her spell, every cut-short hero seemed to pass across the goblin's imagination in an endless instant, kennedy, hendrix, dean, lennon, van goth, holly and so many more faces passing in front of his eyes till her voice seemed to break through again "...well my little goblin, this is your chance to never grow old, are you going to be my hero then...", "...I just can't, I have to write more, it's my life to write..." the goblin replied as she broke away form him in disgust and disappointment "...then just wake up you little fool, the rest awaits you..." her contemptuous voice called after him as he surfaced to an empty room in the clear morning light, it had been a dream that the goblin had never forgotten so many years now since the time the goblin had first dreamt it

haha im the last poster!!

("...aha, a new one, welcome o wise gummiebear to my humble abode..." said the goblin taking back last place again with another post)

morning and the goblin is not quite ready for the clear cold crispness that awaits him outside, for first there is the getting up to do right "...morning narrator, you're up early what's the plan for today..." asked the goblin only then remembering his need for a pick'me'up coffee, the narrator then mentioned breakfast, a bath and hitting his inbox all to the sound of some television news "...sounds good, any other distractions then, we don't want to become too sane too quickly..." felt the goblin who could just about glimpse the great metropolis through the curtain window of the room that he now walked up to saying "...no I am not ready, your minion still wants his distractions..." as he firmly pulls the curtains together tight

the goblin finds himself watching the US open tennis match between the woman who looks like a runaway farm tractor and the man wearing women's clothes it seems, "...actually I am all for the reintroduction of women in woman's tennis..." concludes the goblin again

O'man that was bad.

(the goblin likes Urs knowing that the replies kept this thread active and that the goblin would respond since he felt himself to be an epitome of an oxymoron "...yes I crave anonymous recognition..." he blurted, adding "...and one can't be more oxymoronic than that I suppose...")

repost from "what are you thinking" thread, elsewhere

"...well I'm thinking about that difference, between that of ones "internal" self as opposed to ones "physical" self, again..." mentioned the goblin, adding "...the question now is how to create an "Internal" self that helps one come to terms with the demise of ones "physical" self here, as summed up in "the act replaces the actor, the writer by his creation" I suppose...", in fact the goblin knew that no one could escape their age, agreed, only that the goblin wasn't aware of his age while creating something

the goblin knew that he could force himself to stop posting on these "last post" threads but by now he couldn't stop thinking in terms of things "worth posting" and the goblin also understood that whatever he found "worth posting" usually became just that more precise to him in committing it to text on these "last post" threads, ah but often it was the opposite for him too, in that at times the goblin just arrived here with nothing at all "worth posting" only to surprise himself by what he had thought up on the spot in reply to someone else, "...posting is like dancing, at times one slips into a trance..." explained the goblin, continuing "...while at other times, one is 100% here, stupid to think which is better when one can have the best of both worlds..."

the goblin's blog

35) the goblin had walked the church path to an auction in the village hall and somehow the noise of a frantically flapping flag had contrasted well with the stillness of the bodies below his feet, somehow the feeling was not spooky but it was old as if everything in Dungford clings back to the past, "...we become our own ghosts..." he voiced out to the graveyard but they would already know that he then guessed as his mother too, now lived more and more with her ghosts, she would ask after them by name, set places at table for them, etc., and any refutal by her goblin son was soon drowned under her feelings she had towards them, so the goblin had learned to let her ghosts be

("...once more unto the slot scrabblebots, let not your "dailylife" win here..." advised the goblin posting his next)

34)Next day of many, the organic coffee sits in the cup while the goblin sits in the shop, empathy but no convergence then as his earplugs cannot muffle enough the laughs and thrills the women are having as the drift of their conversation slowly passes from the traits of punters to shaving ones legs. The goblin dared not move and yet his mind still couldn't focus on his own thoughts about what to do to get the computer self-help line going in a place where the computers were like UFOs to them, "...Izabe Goblin, Iva started Intergalatic spacecraft repairs self-help line like in Dungford that be,any problems with portal transportation, abductions and time-travel emailza I on fleamailman@rain'ile sur mer.co.uk..." so to speak, his mind raced on in thoughts of abductions, aliens, crop rings as signs of the other world and then "... but of course, why that is it, the answer !!! ..." exclaimed the goblin " ... I will put an ad in the parish magazine then..." the goblin at this point noticed drink-rings had developed in his cup and that an hour had passed and warned himself not to think to much in future since it jumped the clock on him but then again in Dungford....

38)The goblin wondered if someone here would care to proofread his letter to the Parish Council below:

20th July 2006

re: my ad in your rag then

Dear village elders,
Now I understand that having a green skin, pointed ears and a screwdriver might not exactly put me into the type of person you would want to welcome with open arms to Riain'ile's very own timewarp of Dungford but if you put your pitchforks aside for a moment, allow me to explain that I am setting up a free selfhelp line for computers and would therefore like to place a ad in your parish magazine amongst those ones for healthfoods, livestock, and God. I thought too that it might be a good thing if we meet somewhere quiet where we won't be disturbed to discuss this further, let's say the church then.
Your sin.,
fleamailman

the goblin's blog

41)The goblin was having trouble remembering the "Dungford Walkway Code" again which reads:

rule 283: safely passing pedestrians:

if passing, in correct order
- smile, ignore person if they don't smile back.
- then say "..hello...", ignore person if they smile walking on by.
- then say "...I think it is going to rain...", except when raining where one then says "...I think it is going to stop raining..." ignore person who wears a Tshirt marked "Islamic Republic of Dungford"
- then engage in half an hour's smalltalk without mentioning the foxban, the English civil war of 1642, and HDTV.
- then sign off by saying "...well it was very nice to met you again..." regardless that you have never met them, or that you are bored out of your banana.

In other words: poke your head around corners, dash behind cars tiptoe across the streets all in "mission impossible" style