Bad Klinfilk: "I Left my Heart in LengwI's Stomach

[Kesvirit]

From page two of the {mu'qaD veS}/curse warfare thread:

Klythe: I admit I was wrong about all of you... I thought you were not fit to feed with the targhs. But now I see clearly you are perfectly fit to feed with the targhs.
Addendum- Don't let me interrupt... Please continue with your dinner, before LengwI' 'hogs' it all...

Kesvirit: Keep a civil tongue in your head when addressing your betters, {loDHom mach}*, or I shall cut it out and feed it to those targhs that so concern you.

tmk1000:Are those the same Targs that ate qurgh's heart?(see page one)

Klythe: *breaks out singing in his best imitation of Mr. Bean/qurgh* "I left my heart... In LengwI''s stomach."

*belts out ala Ethel Merman*

The excitement of the honor duel had darkened to gray
The glory of the fight has faded with the day
My body lies in many pieces and is dispersed of by servants
Each section going in its own way.

I left my heart... In LengwI''s stomach.
From his entrails, it calls to me
To occupy the cavity where my life's pump was
So that my chest contains more than ribs, lungs, and air.

My heart waits there... In LengwI's stomach
Calling for the rest of me
And soon it will meet an offal fate
When once again the light it sees.

With apologies to Tony Bennet, Douglass Cross, George Cory, Rowan Atkinson, qurgh, Ethel Merman...

and Klythe, whose ears must be bleeding and who got what he deserved for putting such ideas into my head. }}: P~~~ }}; )
Anyone seeking to improve upon this is welcome to it.

-=- Kesvirit

[Klythe]

Can I just sit in the agony booth for an hour instead of the minute of filk?   I really need to learn this lesson well, so I don't cause more filk to be brought into the galaxy...

[ngabwI]

::laying on the floor, silent. Face is very red. Does not appear to be able to breathe::

::finally, hard laughing pauses, brings in air very quickly to avoid unconsiousness, resulting in a Revenge of the Nerds-style laugh::

::wiping tears from his eyes while laughing. Can't seem to stop::

::After several minutes, laughing subsides. Prepares to comment::

Kesv, now that was really, very...

::snorts a little::

very...

::begins to giggle::

I mean, that was...

::laughs explosively. Does not stop laughing until he passes out, several hours later...::

Well done, Kesv. Well done. }}: D

[Kesvirit]

(Thanks, ngabwI'! Glad you liked it. }}: )

I came up with two follow-up responses; opinion is divided as to which to post. Anyone still reading this thread should go with the one that offends the least.

-=- Kesv

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Kesvirit almost stumbled over the body before she found it. A quick examination revealed the Grammarian, a string of saliva lead from the corner of his twisted mouth to a small puddle forming beside his head. He was not dead, merely unconscious. She wondered if he had suffered from a paroxysm of some kind and summoned a medical team to remove him for evaluation.
   
Most unfortunate, she thought as she watched the medics load ngabwI' onto an autopropelled stretcher. He was a useful and valued ally, and she hated to see him come to harm. It was Klythe she had intended to render damaged and helpless with her filk display. The Booth lacked both style and the irony she had intended to drive home to the insolent underling with her filk, but it would have to do. She wanted to share the results of a personal project with the one who inspired it yet rejected it. And was not revenge, Kesvirit thought peacefully, the final reflection of sharing?
}}: P~~~~ }}; )

(With apologies to John M. Ford for baltantly ripping off a fantastic closing line.)

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Can I just sit in the agony booth for an hour instead of the minute of filk? I really need to learn this lesson well, so I don't cause more filk to be brought into the galaxy...

So you prefer the Booth to the filk. Perhaps the harshest lessons are the best learnt. Very well: I shall play a recording of myself singing the filk on continuous loop at maximum volume during your hour in the Booth. That way you will be able to hear it past your screams...

I assure you that listening to me sing anything *once* will make a day of Vogon poetry recitation fly by at warp speed.

[Klythe]

So you prefer the Booth to the filk. Perhaps the harshest lessons are the best learnt. Very well: I shall play a recording of myself singing the filk on continuous loop at maximum volume during your hour in the Booth. That way you will be able to hear it past your screams...

    *winces at the thought*  Three beats pass before Klythe swallows and wrestles his face into it's normal predatorially thoughtful compsure, "And if I perfer death?   That would ensure that I no longer give anyone any ideas for new filks."   He realises she would only say something to the effect of "death by filk", he hastily adds "It should must be quick, as a disrupt or D'ktagh, I could have another idea at any moment. "