Count de Tisza's drabblingness; Redivivus 4 February 2017 ;

[chui]

*frolics about in all that is wonderful from his countness* i'm so glad i have the time to play and read all these now... pencil

[count tiszula]

17 NEVER

"I never sneeze," said Mr Darcy.

And it was almost true. As a boy he had had the usual childish ailments, but somehow had never been as sneezy as his playmates; just the occasional token sneeze, with no force behind it. His father, part of that Georgian school who regarded laughter as the mark of a fool, had been equally forthright.

"And simili modo, Fitzwilliam, a gentleman never sneezes. A sensible man is not governed by the tickles in his nose!" And though manhood brought strong, virile lungs and an equally enlarged nose, Darcy resolved to follow this course. Whenever a tickle troubled his nostril, his iron will prevented even the smallest of breaths being exhaled, however much his nose and lungs longed for relief.

Yet now, with every portion of his nasal membranes attacked by the sneeziest of snuffs, the temptation to surrender to nature was almost overwhelming. Unfamiliar as he was with the pleasure of the sneeze, he yearned for it. He set his jaw, clenched his teeth, attempted to keep his diaphragm steady as he always did. But this was different; he could feel tears spurting from his half-closed eyes on to his cheeks; his nostrils were flaring and, worse, filling with a clear liquid that was nigh to overrunning their bourns.

He ventured a sniff, and at once something unfelt before ran through his body; it was taking over from him. In a panic, he compulsively raised his hand to his face, and the folded leather horsewhip he was holding pressed hard against his wet nostrils. Surely he could not sneeze now. He could detect the odour of leather and horsehair. It seemed to be invading his very soul. He felt his diaphragm almost flutter involuntarily. His lungs were bursting. His eyes clamped shut and...

"H-ngxt!" The pleasure afforded him by this little sound was incredible; he sighed immensely.

"You see, I never sneeze." He laughed.

[chui]

oh my word... i think that might have been the sexiest thing i have ever read.... hrngh... *reads again* can i have this Darcy? please? pretty please?

[krazykat]

*Fights Chui for Darcy*

Count you surpassed yourself with this latest fic

[count tiszula]

Note to self; write more m stuff...

18; MIDNIGHT

The Iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve.

Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time.

Tarry, rash wanton, am I not thy lord?

TIT:Not for thy fairy kingdom. Fairies away;

We shall chide downright if I longer stay.

OBE: My gentle Puck, come hither; with thy speed,

Bring me that flower; the herb I showed thee once;

The juice of it in sleeping earholes pour'd

Will make or man or woman madly dote

Upon the next live creature it hears sneeze.

PUC: I'll put my girdle round about the earth

for forty minutes.

OBE; Having once this juice

I'll drop the liquor in Titania's ears;

The next thing that she waking sneezing hears

She shall pursue it with the soul of love.

Hast thou the flower there? Now give it me;

And with the juice of this I'll streak her ears.

Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove,

A sweet Athenian lady is in love

With a disdainful youth; anoint his ears,

But do it when the next thing that he hears

May be the lady's girly morning sneeze.

And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow.

PUC: Fear not , my lord, your servant shall do so.

[chui]

ooooh... i absolutely love a Midsummer's Night's Sneeze... wonderful!

[Vetinari]

Naughty Oberon. But what came before?

A retelling of the infamous whip-sneeze incident?

*swoons Janily*

Might there be summer contagion forthcoming? Unhindered by green hankerchief, enhanced by snuff?

[count tiszula]

19; PROMISE

I went on to the set of "The Picture of Dorian Gray" to interview a young actress who was said to possess much promise.

"Miss Woodcock, you have been seen as Kent's answer to Billie Piper."

"Call me Jo. Obviously I support my homeland's struggle to be an independent kingdom again, and to regain the lands lost to Livingstone, but Billie and I are friends; Swindon is lovely, and we are not really similar. She has a pointy nose with long, narrow nostrils that flare into isosceles triangles when she runs away from things, but my nose, although a bit pointy, has very round nostrils and even rounder alae."

"But do they not flare into a similar shape?"

"I don't really know. Have you got anything you could tickle my nose with? You might be able to see. Why not use this matchstick?"

I took her matchstick and ran it lightly around the shapely wings of her nose. At once her nostrils dilated at the touch. She was right, they flared into larger circles, not triangles.

"Can you see? Are they like B- heh Bih- ih-HIHSHCHOOOO! Sorry, Billie's?"

"No, they're much bigger and rounder when you er..."

"I'm so sorry, I am a bit sneezy. Do you think you could do that again?"

[count tiszula]

20; FIGHT

I've had me breakfast in a caff in the Bethnal Green Road; right next to the Blind Beggar, as it happens. Full East End; black pudding, jellied eels, pie and mash, chips and beans, quart of rosie, fourteen sugars. And who's come in? Only Mad Ray! He's gone ;

"Oi! Slacker! We've got to get down the Prospect of Whitby, cock. Someone there who needs taking care of, know what I mean? Reggie says; it's that Jack the Hankie! Pint of char for me love; twelve sugars; and a bangers and chips !"

"What, old Jack "the Hankie" MacTavish? You're a geyser what knows the apple; what's he ever done to get up Reggie's nose?"

We've got in the old Jag and we've gone straight down the old Prospect. And stone me it's full of bleeding yuppies these days; no faces at the bar at all. No sign of old Jackieboy. I've gone;

"Oi ! Two pints of wallop and a Babycham for yourself, treacle. Got any crisps; Nobbie's nuts?"

We've looked round the rubba and nuffink. Then we've only heard a big "AH-TCHUMPF" from the other end of the lounge.

"Jack the Hankie, or I'm a bleeding Jodrell!"

He's only gone out on to the riverside balcony with all the bleeding posh totty! He's only sneezed while hiding out there! I've given him a good bunch of fives up the beezer, and, you know what, he's just held that sodding hankie there, mopping up the blood. Then Ray's come up and I've seen he's got his shooter out.

"You've got right up my nose, Jack; you've been cheeky, you've been nosy, you've been lippy, you've been marrffy. What a marf on you, you bleeding merchant!"

"I never. It's not as if no one's never said I done nothing."

There's been a bang, and a splash as old Jack's toppled over the railing.

"Good thing the river rozzers are so near!" Ray's almost gone back to normal now. "Fancy a ruby, mate?"

[Vetinari]

Mariah Carey! A Cockney bread and cheese.

Now get the cuts........

[Nevyn]

Fight had me quite literally laughing out loud, and if I knew what lollerskating was I'd probably be doing that too. Classy.

[count tiszula]

Huzzah! Made someone llol...

21 POLLEN

The "little pavilion" where Odette de Crecy lodged having as its main feature a salon which she had tricked out with every luxury the Second Empire and her "gentlemen" could furnish, with velvets and satins on every hand, ornaments of ivory and ebony on the mantel, in short a room which a Balzac or even a Flaubert would have longed to catalogue, it came as no surprise to Swann to find, when shown in by a compliant "bonne", two huge vases standing athwart the fireplace, Liberty vases [ though this was long before the Liberty shop opened in Paris], one filled with the cattleyas with which she decorated the buttonhole of her bodice every night, and which they used to "play cattleyas", a euphemism which had expanded from his tickling her nose with them to produce her delightful sneezes to encompass all activity of a certain delicacy, the other with tall tiger lilies, whose orange and white flowers, freckled within, enclosed the huge, engorged pollen-bearing organs which seemed to drip with the dark gold of the heady grains which fell on to the petals, the leaves and out on to the carpet, producing a miasma of intoxicating scent which dominated the room, so that Swann almost unwillingly leant to smell them and found that, though not suffering the hay cold, his nostrils swelled with a tickly longing, and though he took his pince-nez out of his silk waistcoat pocket and placed them on the bridge of his nose to assuage the tickle, he was forced to emit a great masculine sneeze; "HAH-RRRAShhhhoum!" just as Odette entered and produced from her reticule a small, lacy hankie which she applied to his quivering nose.

"Mon petit Charles; Do you want to play cattleyas already?"

[count tiszula]

22; EMBARRASSMENT

I always get so embarrassed when I sneeze. Mine are so big and loud, much louder than other girls', and I can't seem to control them at all. It's almost as if they take over my body and paralyse it, and I am stuck there , gasping for breath until I can get them all out. I know I always used to feel hot with embarrassment even at school; I've got very pale skin, and even in summer I just get very dark freckles on my nose instead of tanning properly. The other girls always used to tease me when I went red with embarrassment; especially as I even went red right down to my chest. But it's worse now, I'm sure. Because I enjoy the sneezes so much that I feel really excited; you know, there. And recently I've started getting embarrassed even before the sneezes start; as soon as I start feeling the least bit sneezy , I can feel myself getting hot and bothered thinking about what is going to happen in my nose.

Last night I was in a bar waiting for Dorothy when I felt a sudden huge tickle right at the back of my nose. I knew that, although it would take half a minute, I was going to have to sneeze about half a dozen times to get rid of it. I tried to get a hankie out of my bag but my hands wouldn't move properly. I sort of hid my face, but every time I gasped for breath my head jerked back to normal. It was just coming when a man sat down opposite; in fact, two men.

"Evening, my dear; I'm Stotter, and this is Adlingden. Can I buy you a drink; something cool? You're looking a bit warm."

I couldn't think how to reply, so just said the first thing; and I was so near to sneezing, it came out in a strange high-pitched, sneezy voice.

"Hah...I odly drigk white wide add HEEEEH soda wataaaaah-TCHooooooh!"

Oddly, the first man just went to the bar, leaving the other one alone with me while I sneezed over and over again. "Tchooooh! Huh-huhTCHOOOOH! HAH-TICHOOOOOH!"

He just sat there in silence staring at me. I felt so embarrassed, but I couldn't speak; i was still too sneezy. I just had to stare back at him as my nostrils flared and I got stuck like that.

Stotter came back with a tall glass. "I hope you don't mind our joining you. The fact is, I really love to watch a young English rose blushing all over like that. I don't know what you're embarrassed about."

"Hah-TISHOOOOH!" I replied. It was so embarrassing.

[Vetinari]

OOh, more Stotter and Adlingden. I rather like them....and the different perspective here. Very nice. And of course hooray for unsuccessful hankie fumbling.

[telltale]

These are incredibly original and fun! I can't pick a favourite, but "Cough" is pretty high up there, and "Midnight" is a little piece of brilliance.

[Aria]

Such cleverness and diversity! *applause* Keep going!

[count tiszula]

Thank you, kind gentlewomen....

23 ALCOHOL

As Norah was still unconscious, I got up to make breakfast. But the sound of the cocktail shaker must have attracted her, for just as I was pouring my first martini, she emerged from the bedroom, a vision in artificial silk. I nobly passed her my glass.

"What happened last night? I remember Asta dragging me into that bar, and finding you with that underage blonde, but after that... and you KNOW alcohol isn't good for me; it always makes me sneeze." She downed it in one. I poured myself a fresh one, and refilled the glass she held out.

" With a nose like that, you really need something to occupy it. And that was no underage blonde, unless you mean under 21, that was the charming little daughter of an old client of mine, Clyde Wynant."

"Not such a little daughter, as I recall. And that cheap crack about my nose deserves a AAAAAH messy reply AH-shisha! See what I told you."

"Bless you, my angel of sobriety. But you can judge Dorothy Wynant again; she made an appointment to consult me this morning. when we were both sober. And here, unless I miss my guess, Watson, she is now. Kindly mix us a fresh shaker of martinis, my ministering angel."

I opened the door to our suite, and there stood Dorothy.

"Where have you been all these years, Nick?" she began.

"Well, when I married Norah...this is Norah, by the way..." Norah passed Dorothy a glass. They indulged in feminine platitudes for a moment, while I cooked up a batch of martinis.

"I gave up the detective business, and we had a prolonged honeymoon in Canada. Next we toured Europe for a bit, and then went on a world cruise; and somehow that ship never got back into American waters until it was time for the passengers to vote for FDR!" I gave them a refill. Dorothy's fresh young face bore a troubled look.

"TCHOOOH!" she remarked.

"You see, it's not just me who..hooo...HOOOOShaaah! Where did you get this gin, anyway?" Norah sniffed.

"Not from your father any more, my precious."

"TCHOOOH! Excuse me, it's the alcohol making me sneeze." Dorothy interrupted.

OOPS; another two-parter....

[count tiszula]

"I'm far too busy drinking nowadays to go back to my old working ways." I undid a jar of cocktail olives that someone had left carelessly lying there. A hammering came at the door of the suite, and the door burst open. A character in a large overcoat and derby stood there, a roscoe in his hand.

"I only got one ting to say to youse, dick. You keep your Greek nose out of the Wynant business, OK, or else." He took aim, but then...

"A-SHISHAAAAH!"

"TCHOOOOH"

The bullet zinged into the oaklined ceiling, and the gunsel ran out.

"Guess I'm taking that case, girls. Oh, and thank you for those sneezes; couldn't have come at a better time. Now I think we could all do with a drink."

[swann_ee_song]

>.>;

I'm embarrassed. But can I get an English-English dictionary for "Fight?"

Dying to know what all those terms were. There are just so many of them would take me forever to try and look them up.... if it's easier for you to just give us a translation. Pretty please?

[count tiszula]

A translation? don't tempt me...well, nous verrons.

24 MASK

[FOR CHANEL No 5]

"All put your masks on."

Malena Ernman took out the old black velvet mask she had been given and tentatively put it on over her already heavy stage make-up. She was in full drag for the role of Prince Orlovskiy in "die Fledermaus", her muscly arms giving a strangely masculine look, under her Victorian velvet smoking-jacket, to the usually androgynous breeches role, emphasised by the fact that she was wearing a short red wig and a bristly ginger false moustache which kept on getting up her long, straight, elegant feminine nose, almost the only part of her that could be recognized as that of a striking and statuesque woman.

"I'm sorry," she called to the director , and though her Swedish accent gave a feeling of self-deprecation to her voice, it was more than counterbalanced by the sheer unconscious power of her deep, effortless stage delivery, so that every head in the theatre turned. It was the dress rehearsal, and this director was trying out his oddest ideas.

"This idea of the mask is , excuse me, a step too far. Already you have me, a Swedish woman, dressed as a man and speaking German with a silly Russian accent; and you want me to cover my nose with a tickly black mask? Some of us have to sing here, you know. We need our noses to breathe through; as if they weren't already encumbered with all this other hairy stuff. Anyway, it is absurd for Orlovskiy to wear a mask. Nowhere in the book does it say his party is a masked ball; and even so, he is the host; not an anonymous guest. " She sniffed , unconsciously underlining her point.

" This is not the English National Opera." came the reply, " we are going to make this believable! We are not having Eisenstein fail to recognize his wife because she's wearing a different dress. If it was good enough for Dame Joan Sutherland...."

Malena sighed and got on with it. Soon she was deep in her comedy conversation with Eisenstein, almost trying to make her speaking voice lower than his. They sat on the floor together for her aria, "Chacun a son Gout", and despite the fact that her pointy nose was under attack from tickles both from the velvet mask and the ginger moustache, she delivered the first verse perfectly. She took a huge breath for the second, where she added her own brilliant coloratura. Now standing, she gave it all her strength. But something was wrong; her perfect breath control was failing her. A ginger hair seemed to have diverted into her pale nostril, and each huge breath made it vibrate, while the tickly mask added a resonance from those parts of her nose that flared against it.

She realised she was longing to sneeze; an opera singer has utter control of her breathing, but this was different. Yet she knew that her sneezes, naturally large and made infinitely more powerful by her trained breathing, could be disastrous. Suddenly her subtle arpeggios trembled; she was stuck on one note, and it began to go out of tune, then came a breathy silence, which seemed to last for ever. The whole opera house held its breath.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH-Chooo!!" Though the exhalation was utterly girly, the inhalation was loudly voiced. And despite the deep tones of her singing voice, it was extremely high-pitched and soprano. The enormous, pure note echoed throughout the acoustic of the empty opera house. And the champagne glass that she had set down on an occasional table before her aria picked up the resonance, vibrated, hummed, shook and then shattered into a thousand pieces with a loud cracking noise like a pistol shot, showering shards in all directions.

"All right, Malena, you can take the mask off now."

PS Malena Ernman's Chacun a son gout [die Fledermaus; Strauss] is on YouTube...like everything else.

[Chanel_no5]

Awww, thank you so for dedicating that lovely piece to me.

And it makes me wonder... would it actually be possible for a sneeze to shatter a crystal glass? Perhaps if the sneezer is an opera singer, as she is... what do you think?

[count tiszula]

Any time you fancy a commanding yet vulnerable Swedish blonde, as it were.

My O Level Physics is not what it was, but I understand that it is the clarity of the pitch of a note that does it; so an opera singer could possibly do it accidentally; a note with a clear resonance at a particular frequency can cause an object to resonate if its own natural frequency is caught, and it then vibrates itself to bits; like the Albert Bridge. Any expert please feel free to confirm or deny...

[Chanel_no5]

Any time you fancy a commanding yet vulnerable Swedish blonde, as it were.

Don't I always?

[count tiszula]

[Precipitated by the latest regeneration of Torchwood]

25 MISTAKE

"There's been a terrible mistake. I Hah...HITCHEEF!"

The Doctor's view of the tall figure with the slightly orange face and flaring round nostrils was suddenly obscured, almost as if the camera on the Tardis's doors had been covered in a viscous liquid. He glanced round to where Rose and Captain Jack lay face down under a blanket, insensible and wounded. He had brought tham inside, untied them and cauterised their missing buttocks with his sonic screwdriver, but they were still comatose with shock. Acting on instinct, he decided to open the door.

" I am Princess Hnxtina." said the alien. "We didn't realise that the girl was human. But now..." she gestured to the gleaming white buttock she was carrying in two of her hands. It was so perfect, so attractive, that the doctor again found himself putting out his hand and fondling it lovingly, despite the distraction of the strange growth in the Princess's groin, which waved hypnotically.

" As soon as we realised, we fashioned this replacement buttock out of bopotamus flesh." She held it out to him.

"But what about Captain Jack's bottom; it is at least as important to him ?" He gestured her in.

" You mean, you don't kno...Hih...ih....ISHOOOOO!"

The Doctor found his hands, and the buttock, covered by an extra-terrestrial slime. She strode forward and whipped back the blanket. There, peeping pertly out of the rent in his sparkly pink catsuit, Captain Jack's muscular new buttock shone out.

" He is immortal, as you know; moreover, his body grows back when it is dismembered; we have used this for ages at our barbecues, and it has never caused this problem before." She knelt and placed the beautiful replacement buttock in its place on the hole in Rose's sparkly catsuit. "Can you tickle my nose?"

The Doctor took his screwdriver and inserted it into her gaping nostril. This time, her whole nose seemed to grow, giving her an oddly Pinocchio-like appearance.

"Hih.. Hih.....hih....! TCHIIIIIISH!" A yet greater spray flew from her mouth and nose on to Rose's new buttock. "Our mucus acts as a growth accelerator, inter alia. She will soon heal. And if you obtain coffee from your food simulation device, they will soon get over their hangovers !"

A strange radiophonic noise was heard outside, and rushing to the door , they saw a large white object like a giant chess piece materialise, and a door open in its side.

" Another Tardis!" cried the Doctor, "But who....?"

A slim female figure emerged, in a form-hugging dress, and followed by a white-haired man in gold-rimmed glasses.

"Romana!"

"Hello, Doctor." She was still in human form, but her huge doe-like blue eyes and the little round nostrils even now sniffing the alien atmosphere made her look like a paler version of the Princess. "We are all in peril. I don't think you know my husband, the Professor. Is this air really breathable? I feel the oddest sens....AaaahTISHA!"

Her lovely round nostrils flared in and out, and tears filled her enormous eyes.

The Professor wandered up, his eyes twinkling. "Are you an African ape?" he remarked to Hnxtina.

" Don't be silly. I am a hominid of the fifth anabasis."

"I think I've got it," said the Doctor. "You, Professor, have just emerged from your ivory tower!" The Princess was so amused that she fell into a particularly wet sneezing fit.

[Did I forget to say that this is a sequel to my story entitled "An Unearthly Tickle"?]

[count tiszula]

26 SUSPICION

Noriko ran eagerly into the ruined building. Through the corridor, she could see Shuya and Takuma and Shiori; oh, and Yuko was there too. She was about to run up to them , when a horrible suspicion ran through her; Shuya was pointing his AK47 at Taku, who seemed to be cocking an assault rifle. In the next room to the shaggy-haired thin boys a furnished area had somehow survived, and she hid quickly behind a velvet curtain.

"Well, Raito; oops, I mean Nanahara-san." Taku's barrel was trained on the brunette's throat. "This really is a batoru roiawaru. However you survived, it is not for long."

Being a girlie, Noriko had not chosen a conventional weapon, but an anti-personnel pepper spray containing a deadly poison. It also had a perfume known as Chanel No 99. She now removed it from its hiding place in her exiguous Japanese knickers, under her brief beige uniform skirt, the colour screaming that it had been chosen by a committee of mothers.

"Aoi-san, destiny's ways are not known to you young shaggy blonds." Shuya laughed.

Noriko sniffed. The spray must have been damaged in the shoot-out at the lighthouse; she could smell the noxious pepper. Suddenly her nose was afire with tickliness. She must not sneeze, or the others would find her hiding-place. But it was becoming inevitable. Aaaah! Perhaps she could kill them all first. But somehow the wonderful feeling of sneeziness was beguiling her , and she longed to give way.

"Aah-aaah- AH Tsu!" Her little nose barely flared, and she issued a sneeze so tiny that it would normally never have been noticed. But in the heightened atmosphere Taku turned on her as a reflex and shot her through the chest. Shuya turned his weapon on the shaggy blond and released a burst of automatic fire that brought Taku to the ground, blood staining his summer jacket.

" Cursed be you, Nanahara. I mean, what is a teen idol doing being called Fujiwara; it's as if Orlando Bloom was called Orlando Plantagenet; well, may you really be the last of the Fujiwaras" Takuma was clearly in the throes of delirium.

Shiori ran to pick up the pepper spray and returned to give Shuya a big messy kiss. "We'd better keep this for future use." she smiled.

Yuko returned to the stove where the special chicken soup she had been preparing for the others was nearly ready....