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I will travel down that Yellow Brick Road
with you anytime, Goblin You may have
to push my chair though 

last but not least the goblin, who thanked everyone for their words, and who had replied to the parrot "...not until you clean your teeth then..." as it munched on those now somewhat "finger flavored" crisps the goblin had offered the parrot in his error, but the parrot just repeated again "...give us a kiss luv...", so perhaps visiting the supermarket's pet-shop this afternoon had been one of life's little lessons thought the goblin who could now see clearly why computers were in binary, and why most school teachers typed with two fingers "...parrot, they've come across you before I guess, haven't they..." the goblin said as the parrot turned its small head a little sideways in that "fancy another round of knuckles goblin" look they always have when they're hungry, the goblin couldn't resist, somehow his fingers were worth the fun of feeding this parrot "... o how you're like feeding this slot here then my dear parrot..." he ventured

the goblin borrowed this space to thank everyone for not giving up on their own sites saying "...your site is your sitting room, decorate it thinking that someone might visit, enjoy it when they do, but avoid that trap of having your sitting room solely for the enjoyment of your guests..." he paused "...so why not turn your sitting room into a studio too, or what about a study, or your garden then..." simply the goblin had been saddened by the number of abandoned sites he had come across where the admins had simply missed the point, he repeated "...ones site should be the store room of all those things one likes or cares about first and foremost..." said the goblin as he suddenly noticed the presence of the great trees in the garden and the song birds which nested in them. "...yes, it's something like that then..." he added

(the goblin waves at barbie again thanking her for the gift of the pic here)

http://www.dizneypins.com/Feb03Images/whiterabbitflex.jpg

gray morning of many, the goblin arrives slightly late to have the boss tapping feet and crossed arms at the bus terminal to the usual words "...late again flea what's your excuse this time...", the goblin looks at the punters waiting to go to the tour to the mountains, puts his hands together in praying motion under the  boss's gaze, and then, as if readying his reply for the boss, says aloud "...do you think they're pickpockets..." which turns the boss head towards the group long enough for the goblin to repeat the line "...sorry boss, been trying to portray the essence of my existence through the focus of my pen again..." said in unison with the goblin's firmly praying hands breaking apart and going diagonally downwards till extended backwards in the full "Mary Teresa about to takeoff down the runway" mode, all of which catching the boss renewed attention on the goblin and the volley "...well just don't me hear you using that excuse again now..." as the unscathed goblin walks to the tourbus once more

the goblin, at this point, walked alone along a beach in his imagination where, having come across a washed up stick, he suddenly wonders what he could write across the wet sand on this windy day, "...well, aren't you wasting your time impudent goblin..." came a very old voice somewhere outside him "... surely, you know very well that I will just wash your scribbles away with the next tide..." came the mocking sea's voice carried through its waves faintly under in the sea breeze on to the still goblin, it seemed to continue "...go ahead and write, write and be dammed for all I care I will only wash it away..." it repeated again and again to the goblin who after a long while moved the stick slowly across the sand writing "for now I know the gods must envy us our mortality", after which he ran up to the waves and flung the stick to the sea retorting "...ah but I, in my one little moment, can write on this sand, so take this stick now and show me what it is that you, with your forever, can write then..." but the stick just floated in the water, perhaps to drift back to the goblin, perhaps not then, as he walked on passed that day but never really far from its grip on him

http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t315/jts3me/Footprints_in_Sand.jpg

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