Og goes on and on...

oggbashan

Dying Truth seeker
Joined
Jul 3, 2002
Posts
56,017
Time
(Just because I could)

Joanna groaned as the grandfather clock in the hall struck eight which didn’t mean that it was eight o’clock because that clock gained five minutes a day and she only wound it up on Sunday mornings so she had to think what day it was; was it Sunday, yes it was, and since she hadn’t wound it up yet that meant that it wasn’t eight o’clock but was possibly seven twenty-five in the morning which was far too early to be awake after a Saturday night of incautious celebration she thought wondering, not for the first time, why she hadn’t had the clock adjusted to keep the correct time as she had kept asking Brad to arrange but he never did which was one of the reasons why she and Brad were now totally independent people and why she was feeling as if she had overindulged at their joint party to mark the occasion of their divorce becoming final and why hadn’t she herself asked the clockmaker to correct the clock now that she was her own mistress so she made a mental note to phone the clock shop on Monday and rolled herself up in the duvet for some more sleep which was interrupted by the tinny clatter of her alarm clock’s bell that she hadn’t reset from its normal weekday position so she reached out and hit the off button and tried to regain the blissful sleep recently interrupted but the village church’s bell started to ring summoning the villagers to early communion as it had done for hundreds years yet sounding as if the bell regretted the necessity for calling so few parishioners unlike the congregation that had filled the church as recently as the Nineteen Forties but Joanna wouldn’t be answering that insistent summons since it had been Brad who had been enthusiastic about complying with the outward appearances of the village traditions and had dragged her unwilling every Sunday morning to attend communion that he believed in even less than she did but he had considered an essential part of their belonging to the village, not they would ever actually belong since they had only come to the village in the Nineteen Eighties and villagers who had come to live there when the railway arrived in the Eighteen Nineties were still referred to as ‘them newcomers’ and some locals expressed reservations about families who had joined the community after the canal had been built in the Eighteen Twenties, but Joanna rolled back to realise with a start that she wasn’t alone in bed and there was Brad sleeping beside her as if their divorce hadn’t happened, yet how was it that Brad was here, Oh yes it was because she and he had drunk too much last night and he wouldn’t drive and the local taxi firm firmly shut its doors at midnight to remind the villagers that there was a finite limit even to revelling on Saturday nights and she and Brad had drunkenly decided to continue their celebrations in bed together for a final farewell fling which had been the fiasco she had known it would be because a inebriated Brad was invariably an impotent Brad and after a few minutes fruitless fumbling they had settled down to sleep together instead of ‘sleeping together’ that had been their intention but now it was morning she ought to get out of the former marriage bed before Brad awoke and decided to consummate their non longer extent marriage which might have been an acceptable idea in the euphoria of last night but in the grey dawn of a village morning seemed as unattractive as Brad had become to her over the last few years so Joanna climbed out of bed to realise with a start that only five minutes had passed since the inaccurate grandfather clock had struck eight o’clock when it wasn’t.

648 words (excluding title)
Passive sentences 0
Reading ease 0.0
Grade level 12 (probably 99)

Follow that. Or just groan.

Og
 
It's too damn early here, Og, for you to make my head hurt like that!

:kiss:
 
Wonderful, Og, and very giggle enducing. Exactly how many tangents did that sentence go off on? :D

I know I rib you about your other long sentence, but it takes a huge talent to be able to write something like that. I tried, but failed, miserably.

However, I will try to write something later, as a homage to you.

Lou :heart:
 
Tatelou said:
Wonderful, Og, and very giggle enducing. Exactly how many tangents did that sentence go off on? :D

I know I rib you about your other long sentence, but it takes a huge talent to be able to write something like that. I tried, but failed, miserably.

However, I will try to write something later, as a homage to you.

Lou :heart:

I don't have near that much ambition today. Can't wait to see what you come up with. ;)
 
Lou, Virgil did it so much better. He was a lawyer and did it in his speeches.

No wonder he won his cases. No one could follow him.

Og
 
Mr. Oggbashan,

Sir,

Would you be willing to perform a reading of that literary lung-full aloud to a community of incompetent chanteuses charged with redecorating their club? In this way we would be able to apprehend all the various shades of blue that are available, at one sitting.

Your Public Service is a challenge to us all.

In rapt appreciation,
I remain,

Sincerely,

Virtu ~
 
I just reread it and, strangely, there are quite a few stories in Lit that sound just like that all the way through. :)
 
Virtual_Burlesque said:
Mr. Oggbashan,

Sir,

Would you be willing to perform a reading of that literary lung-full aloud to a community of incompetent chanteuses charged with redecorating their club? In this way we would be able to apprehend all the various shades of blue that are available, at one sitting.

Your Public Service is a challenge to us all.

In rapt appreciation,
I remain,

Sincerely,

Virtu ~

I would be delighted to perform it - or a longer one if required.

I often speak to public meetings but strangely enough am noted for brevity and conciseness.

It isn't difficult to read if you know where you divert from the main plot and when you come back.

Og
 
A curtsey to Sir Og...I'd write more but I just woke up and reading that fried my brain.:)
 
I left out the sheep, and the garderobe and the four foot BMs.

I must be getting senile.

Exit stage left muttering to himself...

Og
 
Now I’ve come to write this I don’t know what to write, as I’ve been pondering it all day, even while I was hanging out the washing – something which I actually enjoy, especially on a warm sunny day and a breeze is blowing through the trees and my dog is following me around the garden, wanting to play with his bally, and, no, I didn’t say, “Bunny, ball ball,” he would’ve looked at me a bit strange if I did – so, yes, there I was, in my garden, pondering how to pay homage to the King of Long Sentences: Og; a man who is larger than life, so much so, he dresses up as King Henry VIII and wears a cake on his head, something which isn’t easy to carry off, I know, I’ve tried it, admittedly it wasn’t such a handsome cake, mine was a slab of greasy lardy cake, which did nothing for my long brown, easily fuzzed up hair, something I regretted almost immediately because it takes me forever to wash my hair and I had to go upstairs and do that straight after peeling the remnants of lardy cake from my locks which didn’t go as smoothly as I’d hoped because the currents had got squished in amongst the strands of hair, but it didn’t take me forever as you can probably realise because there’s no way I’d sit and type at my keyboard with greasy currents in my hair, it’s not the kind of look I’d generally go for, not that any of you can see me, but I sometimes imagine you can because my webcam is staring accusingly at me, with that knowing little red eye, but it’s rarely live and isn’t right now, thanks goodness, because I’m just not in the mood for looking happy and chatty and a lot of that has to do with the football being on the telly – I am so glad I realised ITV are televising the match here, there’s nothing like watching it live – anyway, as I was saying much earlier, so much earlier in fact it feels like months ago, I am trying to write a very long sentence here, to pay homage to Og, a fellow inhabitant of this great land we call Engerland, especially when cheering on our football team, and talking of football again, we both support the finest team in this great land, none other than the Premiership Champions, Arsenal, the wearers of red and white, which, coincidentally, are also the colours of our national team, the same team which will be heading off to Portugal soon to attempt to conquer Europe in Euro 2004, but that’s a different kettle of fish entirely and still doesn’t solve my ongoing problem of what to say in this extremely long sentence, because all I seem to have been doing so far is waffling on about nothing of importance, and I wanted this to be something special; something suitable for the job it’s meant to be doing, but I must admit, this is a lot tougher than I thought it would be and I am almost certain it’s riddled with run-ons, which is something I’m prone to do in my writing anyway, but then again, I do feel I’ve broken the back of this now and am approaching the home straight, which is something I’ve just written about in the Olympic story I’m currently working on, but I have put that to one side, for now, in an attempt to focus my mind on this mammoth task, so mammoth in fact, it’s almost defeating me, but I did say “almost” as I will not let it get the better of me, I can’t, because this is a homage to Og and his brilliant long sentences, I just wonder if I’ve managed to write a longer one than his longest so far, because if I have I’ll be celebrating for a week, however, I do doubt it is as technically sound as Og’s, and, speaking of Og, I wrote this drivel for you. :rose:

677 words
Passive sentences 0
Reading ease 0.0
Grade level 12

Lou
 
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