Oddments and triflings

D: A, you are an oddment and a trifling.

A: Gee, D. With compliments like that it’s a wonder you spent your life alone!

D: Oi!

A: See, two play at the insult game. It’s not just yours to monopolize!

D: (Grumble).

A: Exactly.

D: If not you, then what are our oddments and triflings?

A: They are a highlight of some of the lovely posts I read today, that made a typical Monday a delight, when I had a chance to breathe, that is.

D: I see. A joint tale-telling, so?

A: Indeed.

First, at We Drink Because We’re Poets—

D: Uh, A, Excuse me, but you’re not a poet.

A: And?

D: What’s your excuse?

A: This isn’t a drink as such, D. It’s Kombucha.

D: It’s fermented, though.

A: Sure, but only a little. It’s good for you. All sorts of pro-biotic goodness for the gut to heal it from all those delightfully-inflammatory potatoes I ate over the weekend.

D: I think you’re some sort of witch.

A: Thank you, D. Moving on:

The prolific Charles and the delightful Rara go head to head with some incredible poetry. Stop by We Drink Because We’re Poets to vote in Round 1 of the Championship For The Ages Final!

Also at We Drink Because We’re Poets–

D: I think you just like saying the name.

A: And?

D: . . .

A: As I thought. There’s a new exercise/prompt debuting on August 11. Read more about it, mark your calendars, and participate, because it looks to be great fun!

D: This means we’re taking part, correct?

A: You bet your Pictish, Time-Traveling arse.

D: It’s such a pity she uses her words for things like that. It could be so much more. (Sigh.) Regardless, the Community Storyboard Creative Writing Challenge continues with this day 3 Prompt: Write a story set before 1950. A of course cheated and used a chapter opener that she wrote last night, which she’s titled, “Where do we go from here?”

A: What, is it my fault I rarely write anything set after 1950? No, I think not. Finally, Charles did a guest-post on Green Embers’ blog about character classes in Dungeon and Dragons. D, I’d like you to take notes on the Druid part.

D: I’m not that kind of Druid.

A: I know, but –

D: You’re mocking me.

A: Yes, I am, but –

D: I am a teller of tales; I hold the clan’s record of births and deaths within my soul, I gaze at the stars and interpret their patters, I have the magic of the ancients in my veins, and you’re telling me that all it amounts to is having antlers in my hair—

A: D, chill. I like the antlers.

D: . . . I give up.

A: Ha! I win. Good night, folks!!