<font color=#D80606>This one....the picture works XP</font> -- Death Valley

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Date Posted: 01:08:17 04/17/03 Thu
Author: Roxy
Subject: This one....the picture works XP
In reply to: Roxy 's message, "Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my pleasure to present......" on 01:06:36 04/17/03 Thu

Wow, baby.

Ladies and Gentlemen, lets get this show on the road. Open the curtains, throw back the velvet ropes, and shut the doors and them holes in your faces.

Its time for the show.

In one breath she�ll build you up, vibrato requiem echoing with seeping truth and seductivity��and slaughters promises in a heartbeat. The quick of the draw, a bipolar reaction as the female initially descended from oblivion. She was a gambling one, with enough sly continuity and brazen grit to get her through a rough spot or a tough crowd. With her performance as she sashayed gracefully, hours dripped to minutes as every movement etched its own bolero. There was no shutting those lips, compared to those shier counterparts of the identical epoch.

You�ll know her if you don�t, screaming a eccentric confidence which pulsates off a ruby pelt. Doomed to an untimely demise from the gambling, the life on the line and the love of the spontaneity. But her troubles took no weight upon her sleek shoulders as the filly made her entry.

I�m a star.
And the audience loves me.
And I love them, and they love me for loving them.
And I love them for loving them, and we love each other.
And that�s cause none of us got enough love in our childhoods.
And that�s showbiz, kid.

There were no complaints from the bypassed. Evil enough, malicious enough for them. There was enough bite in her gambling eyes to fight off the toughest of the boys.

And into this harsh dark world she descended to bring to it a comical spotlight. With an evil stereotype there was a certain uphold; to destroy any idea of happiness with a few choice words, turning all vividness to grayscale and fret. An untimely dooming to the lands below of fire and endless demonic callings. But a equine�s made of more than air, and with all that bulk you�re bound to see �em; see them crumble with an uneventful luster. Was it necessary to throw on the glitter, spark up your life and stick up your head for a nod and a spoken word? What a drab; the evils are a belief; more of a secular choosing than a choice of virtue.

And all that dreadful jazz.

But who�s into drowse and sorrow?

Give em� the ol� razzle dazzle; none of this slack, turned-down physique.

What ever happened to class? A �yes ma�am,� �how charming,� �may I,� They�re all bums, all snakes in the grass. She was shifty, as the sequins in her eyes; always alert and suspecting. But that�s something that good ol� Roxy just happened to possess. But enough of the narrations, monologues cant prepare you for this surprise.

Its time to set you free, Roxy, unprotected from your lush velvet curtains of the showbiz, of the lies and the gambling, the cheating and the stealing of a Broadway life. Your choices are no longer mine to puppet; you are your own being.

She�ll carry on the legacies that her martini drinking, cigarette flicking, mink draped predecessors could not. That brief moment of glamour and the disappeared with the wind. This one was here to stay, every bit of her fa�ade just waiting for that chance to appear behind her spark and smoke, explode onto the stage with surge of emotion and a beaming confidence. Every inch of the youth�s mold waited her time in the Chicago bright lights.

A light and wiry frame, draped with a coat of electric red stretched seamlessly upon her limber frame. A thin neck arched, just itching for a string of extravagant pearls. Her short, juvenile tuft of a mane had not chosen a side of her arched jugular, and it fought with complex dexterity. She�ll get you tapping your toes and bobbing your heads, and you can�t help but part your cold lips for a beaming grin by the end. That�s what she�s here for, so take advantage of the newfound ball of thespian energy. Her face was angled, as were her legs willowy; but stygian orbs shone with a gleam of the Broadway that could not be ignored. Two snake eyes, they watched and were as shifty as the die. She was a gamble; but a worthy bet.

Cue that saxophone solo, honey. Roxy�s parting the curtains.

This description set upon the others as a long awaited theatrical poster, there was much to expect of one so young; and supposedly helpless. And on those gangly, stiletto limbs she carried herself with unsurpassed feminine grace, whole body dancing to that jazz rhythm constantly coursing about a nimble frame.

Skidding to a sudden stop, rusted oculs peer with a glowing interest to the setting about her. And acting about as the youth often does, the imagination surged through exited orbs, setting the celestial orb of light above her as her one and only spotlight as she grandly displayed an aesthetically grand entrance.

Featuring:

The Eccentric:
Roxy

Undoubtedly
Female

Years in Showbiz
None; just a youngster

Draped In:
Red. Ruby red.

The Hollywood Story:
Nothing much to say; she�s not secretive, just doesn�t mention her parents. It doesn�t come up, she holds no resentment, and most don�t know how this exuberant filly flounced onto their lands. But she has; and has fended for herself thus far.

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[> and that's chicago -- Carcajou's player, 21:50:31 04/17/03 Thu [1]

...Come on babe, why don't we paint the town? And all that jazz! I'm gonna rouge my knees and wear my stockings down... and all that jazz! Start the car, I know a whoopie spot where the gin is cold but the piano's hot; it's just a noisy hall where there's a nightly brawl and all... that... jazz!

...It's good, isn't it? Grand, isn't it? Great, isn't it? Swell, isn't it? Fun, isn't it, nowadays.

I LOVE THAT MOVIE. Sorry to ruin your excellent post. Please ignore me; I'm just celebrating the long weekend.

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