What's all this barmy stuff?
Want to find out what has been forgotten in the Styx?
Not enough barminess for you?
It's always there but never seen, hiding, hiding behind the words. Over and over again it is seen but never recognized for it's true importance, and who but a barmy would look to see it's place in the grand scheme of the multiverse, a sneaky scheme to go and drive everyone barmy? As green and bumpy as a slaadi's skin, the seemingly random splatter of drops and splotches that look as if a slaadi drank paint and then exploded, this rusted green texture that must truly be more ancient then even the concept of infinity and how it's applied to slaadi with paint buckets, this texture must truly hold the answer to life if some sod would just look at it instead of turning the cover. But always it's significance of being there every time has always been overlooked, until a barmy decided to find the answers...
It's very greeness puzzles and awes, but what meaning, what hints, does it's greenness foretell? Some splotches seem to be the deep green of forests, of life, fuzzy moss, and things that try and gobble the sun, hinting at a place far beyond this little cell where things are free to grow and be free, and have evil bees crawl about in their ears buzzing like mad. Others, drips and splatters of a cool minty green to leave a slight grin on your face, seem to hint at the streaks of luck in any sods life, as fate lets you flow happily along and then throws you against a grainy pebbled wall in a bad attempt to spread out your good fortune. Other greens, the dark ones the hide behind the others and may even show the true coat of the texture before it was covered up by a mad xaositect with a blind eye trying to finger paint, look like something that a bit of bad soup might do to a barmy who spun around a bit to many times trying to catch the visibly clear faeries. These greens would not bode well, if they didn't seem to be rusting away, the color of an old copper coin in a pocket with a bit of lint and an old key as it's rust grows rust. Or maybe someone just liked the color green, which goes well with everything, even slaadi who don't like to be pinched in the pocket by sodding leprechaun merkhants.
Or maybe it's the splatters and dabs that have meaning, every drip that looks like it was absently sprayed on may be the work of an sensatey artist sitting for fourty hours and then slowly leaning over to dab one little drop of green in the exact spot, and it's only by this careful and barmy approach is such a texture made that it looks like they said "Sod this!", threw the bucket at it, and went to have some tea and biscuits. If it was the careful work of an infinitely talented artist though, and not a leathery old boot to the bucket, the paint itself can speak of moods in it's abstractishness. The dabbed rusted browns spots, possibly from the old dirty brown sponge they use to wash the bars on the Gatehouse when the weather or smog has stripped them clean and their looking too shiny, speaks of a distant unconcern for the fate of the world and small fluffy cats, a truly terrible thought and someone should hit them with a sponge for even thinking that! The shiny green drips though, traveling slowly from the top down to the nice falls at the bottom, speak truly of the fact that we all wish waterfalls where made of green minty paint.
The texture is more then just dabs and colors though, it has, er, texture. Now, close your eyes and feel how it has bumps and scratches, pits and the texture of grainy sand. Pay no attention to me making funny faces at you while your eyes are closed, please. Perhaps the bumps are like those on a sods head you can read their personality with, that being if they have a real big bump they're probably bloody mad and trying to figure out why you hit them on the head with a pain for. It could be that those little dots to the edge mean the textures light hearted and tends to spend to much time puzzled and scratching it's head to try and figure out why some barmy just put a frying pan in it's hand, or, as we should know, perhaps those dips and rises mean the green texture is wise and venerable, or at least thick with amusing layers of anecdotes. It's definitely allot better then the texture of old soapy crusted porridge though, which means it's still better to throw your bowl at someone and not a large mass of rusty textured slab.
Meaning can be found even in clouds, usually along the lines of 'I'm fluffy and allot higher then you, hah hah', and it's no wonder that even the barmiest eye could see shapes within the crevices and splotches of the texture. Looking close now, not at the splotches or the horrible, rusty, orangish, beady-eyed monster with it's mouth full of sharp teeth lurking through a forest of minty green trees just to the left, no, but look instead down to the right, doesn't that green splotch look like a happy bunny? You kind of have to stand on one stripe-stockinged leg and bend to see it, and squint a little, but it's definitely a bunny in the texture, a green one. Meanings are planted everywhere if you look, the buggers are like weeds, but a special sod is the sad lonely little dot in the very upper left corner, who's been unlucky enough to have been pointed out by a lumpy arrow. What's so special about a dot, the pour thing, ah.
The texture is special, truly special, but truly it's origins are unknown. Is it the work of some mad Ghennan volcano god who decided he liked green and took a few painting classes from a local shadow fiend, or is the source some muliversal constant, a Rule of Green Splotchiness perhaps, that makes things tend to look like green and brown splattered dabs, or in the end is it simply the work of some cleverly brilliant frog? Even if we barmies never know, it is enough to have such an interesting green, splattered, dabbed, rusty, splotched, dotted, drippy, texture to brighten up our days.
All content copyright 2000 Jeremiah Golden or credited authors.