Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 371 & Part 372 / Buck Moon ...

 

Today is Thursday, the 10th of July, 2025.

Knowledge is power, said Francis Bacon, said Twenty-Five.

Mmh, I like bacon, said one of the sixteen cats with tears of joy.

And I like being part of the group of only predators in this caravan of ours, whispered one of the cats with wry smile.

Mr. Twenty-Five, Sir, one of the chicks approached our little tawny owl. Shouldn't we give our contestants a little hint about at least one of today's cities?

Twenty-Five, the little tawny owl, was half asleep.

What contestants? What hints? he yawned.

The City Song Quiz? the chick continued. One of the two might be a little hard to find out.

The city's name is also one of our neighbour-planets, said Twenty-Five sleepy. Is that enough of a hint.

And the other is a bomb, one of the bats added mischievously, a sex-bomb.

Do we need an explicity warning? one of the ladybugs wanted to know.

And meanwhile ten kissing cats joined the two cats with wry smile, the twenty-four smiling cats with heart-eyes, the sixteen cats with tears of joy, the eight grinning cats with smiling eyes, the thirty-one grinning cats, the twenty-three spiders, the fifteen scorpions, the seven ladybugs, the twenty-nine bees, the twenty-one ants, the thirty crickets, the twenty-two mosquitos, the fourteen caterpillars, the six snails, the twenty six butterflies, the eighteen bats, the ten more chicks, the two chicks, the twenty-five chicks, the seventeen penguins, the nine little red birds and the one little tawny owl…

😽😽😽😽😽😽😽😽😽😽

"Bromford Returns"

Well, the fire of a thousand lost mornings
Was raging in the corner of the room
And a storm came in like a warning
It's a shame she has to leave so soon

We had been talking about the old days
And her long lost wedding gown
And I did not dare to mention
That we were better than somehow

She asked me where I've been hiding
If my dreams were still hers to burn
I told her that I've been happy
Waiting for Bromford to return

That city is a graveyard of ambition
With headstones of tears and of blood
I wonder if we made the right decision
Is this the future you were thinking off?
Is this the future you were thinking off?

See last I dreamed of the ocean
A silver beach and a silent moon
You were just about to give me your reasons
As the waves became my bedroom

Yeah, I heard the seasons change slower
When you try to watch them turn
It's easier to lose track of time
When you're waiting for Bromford to return

See, some nights I dream that I'm in New York
And some nights I dream that I am dead
Some days it feels so easy
And other days I just stay in bed

Six years ago she sent me a message
And I only just replied
All she said was, "How are you doing?"
All I said back was, 'I'm fine"

Yeah, I heard the seasons change slower
When you're living inside an urn
It's a good place as any
To be waiting for Bromford to return.

Those fires feel more like stars now
Raging for eternity
And those memories are shrouded in dust now
Deformed like ancient oak trees

My mother said all she wants is answers now
I told her that all I want is peace
She said, "That's because you have young children
And someday you will think like me"

So as time is our witness
Let us try to forget what we have learned
And I'll meet you at the San Domenico
And we will wait for Bromford to return

Have peace, have peace my friend
Until we meet again
Have peace, have peace my friend
Until we meet again

  

"Marilyn Bromford"

Man: 

(jarring chord)...Well, this time you've crawled too far!

Woman: 
Oh, Jake, Jake! Why did you do it? You could have destroyed the tapes and none of this leftist would have happened!

Interviewer: 
An excerpt from Carl French's latest film. Carl, we're all a little mystified by your claim that your new film stars Marilyn Bromford.

Carl French: 
It does, yes.

Interviewer: 
Who died over ten years ago?

Carl French: 
Uh, that's correct.

Interviewer: 
Are you lying?

Carl French: 
No, no, it's just that she's very much in the public eye at the moment.

Interviewer: 
Does she have a big part?

Carl French: 
She is the star of the film.

Interviewer: 
And dead.

Carl French: 
Well, we dug her up and gave her a screen test, a mere formality in her case, and...

Interviewer: 
Can she still act?

Carl French: 
Well...well, she-she's still has this-this enormous, ah-ah, kinda indefinable, uh...no.

Interviewer: 
Was decomposition a problem?

Carl French: 
We did have to put her in the fridge between takes.

Interviewer: 
Ah, what sorts of things does she do in the film?

Carl French: 
Well, we had her lying on beds, lying on floors, falling out of cupboards, scaring the children, ahm...

Interviewer: 
But surely Miss Bromford was cremated?

Carl French: 
Well, we had to use a stand-in for some of the more visible shots.

Interviewer: 
Ah! Uh, another actress.

Carl French: 
Dead actress. But Bromford was in shot the whole time.

Interviewer: 
How?

Carl French: 
Oh, in the ash tray, in the fire grate and vacuum cleaner...

Interviewer: 
So Marilyn does not appear in the film?

Carl French: 
Not as such.

Interviewer: 
Mr. French, you're one of the film world's most arrogant queens. I mean not just homosexual or gay or anything, I mean you are a raving queen.

Carl French: 
Well, yes.

Interviewer: 
I mean, a real screamer, a real "Whoops! Get out! Don't mind me, dear!" limp-wristed caricature.

Carl French: 
Is that not in order?

Interviewer: 
No, no, that's fine. And I understand that you married the beautiful black heiress Hueyna Tannoy partly for the publicity but mostly to cover up the fact that you prefer going out with little boys.

Carl French: 
Look, really!

Interviewer: 
Carl, you're an offending little poof, a mincing gay-bar loiterer, a whinnet-covered walking perfume shop and an evil perverter of innocent little boys!

Carl French: 
What!? Really! Is this part of the interview?

Interviewer: 
No, no, I just wanted a few contacts.

Carl French: 
Well, well, shouldn't we be talking about the film?

Interviewer: 
We've been off the air for ages. Now, where'd you find them?

Carl French: 
Look, I think we are still on the air.

Interviewer: 
Oh, sod the f***ing air! I just still get locked up with that sort of thing.

Carl French: 
What about the film?

Interviewer: 
Just a few addresses, please...

Carl French: 
Look, we got James Dean in it, in a box!

Interviewer: 
I-I can turn the microphone off if you...

Carl French: 
And bits of Jayne Mansfield...

Reporter: 
Well, ah, back here at the classic, I have good news that Vincent Wong, as horribly mutilated though he is, his partly dismembered shoulder bound together with an old top hat, has managed to select the correct reel and we are back with Monty Python and the Holy Grail..once again.

🌕
🌕🌕🌕🌕
🌕🌕🌕🌕
🌕

The owl is not what it seems.

Buck Moon

Sister Moon, will be my guide
In your blue, blue shadows, I would hide
All good people, asleep tonight
I′m all by myself, in your silver light
I would gaze at your face the whole night through
I'd go out of my mind, but for you
I′d go out of my mind, but for you


Lying in a mother's arms
The primal root of a woman's charms
I′m a stranger to the sun
My eyes are too weak

How cold is a heart
When it′s warmth that he seeks?

 

Bromford and …no-Toad - Part 2

  
»I'm Brom of the Endless!«

»Really, dude? Not again! And who are you today? Dream? Destiny? Desire? Destruction? Death? Delirium? Despair?«

»No, no, no. I am the one and only Brom of the Endless. That's short for Bromfaith of the Endless. I am one of the step-brothers, one of the unknown seven step-siblings of the original seven Endless siblings.«

»You are more like an ugly step-sister, dude. And completely delusional. And why are you starting to look like this toad that is hanging 'round here lately?«

And the toad says nothing, is only googling its' googly eyes.

0️⃣0️⃣0️⃣0️⃣
0️⃣0️⃣0️⃣0️⃣

Today is Tuesday, the 8th of July, 2025.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 369 & Part 370

 

Today is Wednesday, the 2nd of July 2025.

As soon as the smiling cats with heart-eyes had joined our unlikely caravan group of likely or maybe likeable animals they started conspiring with the other cats.

What do you think will happen once we will meet another single animal like Twenty-Five, our little tawney owl? they asked the eight grinning cats with smiling eyes and the thirty-one grinning cats.

They will start fighting, grinned the cats with smiling eyes.

To the bones, added the grinning cats, and the winner or surviver will be our new guru, our new leader.

I hope that single animal will be another cat, coughed the smiling cats with heart-eyes.

God is dead, said Friedrich Nietzsche, murmered the little tawny owl called Twenty-Five in his restless sleep, and we have killed Him.

And so two cats with wry smile joined the twenty-four smiling cats with heart-eyes, the sixteen cats with tears of joy, the eight grinning cats with smiling eyes, the thirty-one grinning cats, the twenty-three spiders, the fifteen scorpions, the seven ladybugs, the twenty-nine bees, the twenty-one ants, the thirty crickets, the twenty-two mosquitos, the fourteen caterpillars, the six snails, the twenty six butterflies, the eighteen bats, the ten more chicks, the two chicks, the twenty-five chicks, the seventeen penguins, the nine little red birds and the one little tawny owl…

😼😼

"Shadows On The Bromford"

Storm clouds cruising cross the blue skies
Shadows float across the fields of Bromford
I find myself an island in an island
I have to sort things out just my way

And all I find is my bar
To laugh to me I say
Like all you know is true
Is for every time we know it's mine

I saw clouds cruise floating cross the blue sky
Shadows float across the fields of Bromford
Hero down the right ... way
Everything will come out my way

Now I know, I see, I find
It's the only way I ever felt the way I do today
All I say, I play the game
I know I never could be sure of all the places that I've seen

Clouds cruising cross the blue skies
Shadows float across the fields of Bromford
Every self an island in an island
Working every problem out my way

Now I see, I feel, I know
It's the only way that anything could sort out to the way
I say you'll find it's out of mind
It's the only way I could have been
It's the only way I stand

Clouds cruise
Float upon the Bromford

"Bromford Whistle"

My name is James Lucas
I was born in Remington
And paroled from Bromford Prison
In the winter of ′81
I was free and on the streets of Indiana
I'd just turned 32
Just a man with nowhere left to run
No different, sir, than you

Me and Pat, we married in the spring
Moved in with her Ma and Pa
On our wedding night, she sighed, "Jimmy
We can have anything we want"
It was for those things we wanted
We worked as hard as two people could
But somehow in the end, mister
This didn′t do no good

The prison got me drivin' delivery
For Mr. Wills over in Ridgeside
Well, I started loadin' a little extra
And I′d sell it on the side
I didn′t like what I was doin'
I didn′t lose no sleep at night
Mr. Wills, he was a rich man
He'd been a rich man all his life

I was on the loadin′ dock one evenin'
When I heard the warehouse phone
The dispatcher said, "Jim, they wanna see you
In the front office ′fore you go home"
All Mr. Wills said was, "I don't understand
I could send you back to Bromford fast
If you needed some extra money, Jim
All you had to do was ask"

Well, that night me and Pat, we had a fight
I was out drivin' ′round in the rain
With a fifth of gin and a half tank of gas
And ten dollars to my name
I passed a deserted liquor store
Way out on Highway 1
I turned and pulled into that parking lot
Got out, but I let my motor run

Well, I stood lookin′ in the window
For a long, long while
When I walked in, the man behind the register
He looked at me and smiled
"That's some weather we′re havin' out there
Can I help you find somethin′, friend?"
I didn't answer, I just stood there
Then I turned around and went

I don′t know how long I sat in my driveway
My shirt was covered in sweat
The house was dark when I went in
Pat was lyin' awake in bed
She hit the light, I was standin' in the doorway
She said, "I was worried, where you′d been so long?"
I felt her arms around me
She said, "Jimmy, I′m so glad you're home"

Bromford Prison stands on a high hill
Where the county line runs out
There′s a whistle, blows every time a man comes in
Or a man gets out
That night, we lay wrapped in each other's arms
Listenin′ to the rain
I heard that Bromford whistle blowin'
Just blowin′ in my dreams