Let's play "Finish The Last Word"!
 

Would you like to play "Finish The Last Word"? I hope you do. I'll start. Somebody finish the last word -- & then post your own unfinished thought for the next ledge lady or gentleman. If nobody plays this, I'll just think of something else stupid, so you might as well play this.
_________________________________________

Lisa (DarkAngel) has a Web site filled with interesting literary references in Stevie's music. Based on the evidence, Stevie seems to really enjoy the writing of Oscar Wilde, whose wit & charm are abundant in his plays & maxims. In fact, some Stevie fans think that "Lady Windermere's Fan" influenced Stevie's use of a fan on one of her solo tours. Personally, I think that particular "influence" is a bunch of ______________ .

order for take out. After seeing the giant squid story on TV he was in the mood for calamari and

of old Smokey
all covered with snow,
I lost my true lover
from courting too slow.

Now courting's a pleasure
and parting is grief,
But a false hearted lover
is worse than a

top of the world lookin’ down on creation, and the only explanation he could find was the love that Wallace found ever since he’s been around. His love’s put him at the top

of the stairs looking down at the space where his bike used to be before it got stolen in the city this afternoon. He was pissed, he loved that bike. Saved for ages to get it and now it was

Gone like a freight-train, gone like yesterday
Gone like a soldier in the civil war, bang bang
Gone like a '59 Cadillac
Like all the good things that ain't...

broken, better not fix it. But the scope on her sniper rifle had the target square in the center. She held her breath and slowly squeezed the trigger. In a matter of milliseconds his candle of life would be snuffed out. She knew what the repercutions were, or thought she did, little did she know.....

that he had a weapon of his own. He looked her square in the eye, with sweat pouring from his brow... She took a step forward, as did he, as she pulled the trigger. Neither lost eye contact. She blinked for one second and that's when he...

started singing. It had been a long time since he had sung 'relax, don't do it, when you want to come', but he gave her his best, looking into her eyes, telling her

something.... as he heard the alarm go off. "That's the last time I eat a ham and pineapple pizza before bed" He thought. What a weird dream. He thought no more about it, until he saw the bullet casing on his pillow, and the bullet hole above his bed. But then, this wasn't his bed. This wasn't even his room. "How did I get here, and whose are those?" He then noticed the clown shoes at the foot of the bed. They were red, bright red. The red of blood, his blood, had he been shot. But she missed, or they missed. He was not bleeding, not even injured. But the shoes...those shoes....

....belonged to Ronald McDonald. A tap on his shoulder startled him, he turned to find a scantily dressed clown in bed next to him. He looked strangly at the fast food icon, in awe of his fire engine red chest fur that matched his head.
Ronald took in a deep puff off a menthol ciggrette. "Morning babe, last night was dynamite. What do you say we go grab a couple of McMuffins then we'll........

meet again, don't know where don't know when...but definately by bike. I love bikes, they're so arousing they always make me think about

... eating shrimp". But just then something crashed through the window, making glass shatter throughout the bedroom and piercing Ronald through the heart and beheading him with a swift sharp action. Taking the still grinning bloody head, he ran out into the street and foisted the clown's head into the hands of a small child playing in the street, telling him....

"never trust a clown. They look funny but here you are: they're just some creepy old

guy who likes dressing up for children." The child shouted, "The clown is dead, weep for his soul!" before laughing and throwing the head straight back to him. Back in the arms of its murderer, the head opened its mouth and began hollering bizarre lines of unfathomable poetry at an ear-shattering volume. He threw the head to the ground, grabbed the child and ran. The clown's head rolled after them, screaming lines of verse, clearly discernible as...