• Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.

Vignettes from Barb’s ancestral past

Go to CruxDreams.com
Barbaria1 said:
On April 14, well out in the North Atlantic, the Titanic’s radio operators began to receive warnings ...
Click to expand...
I remember that voyage, Barb - it was weird... :eek:

Mestanic 2019-1.jpgMestanic 2019-2.jpgMestanic 2019-3.jpg​
 
This one goes WAY back

Adam Goldman stretched out his arm to stroke the delectable left breast of the delectable Eve Moore. Sometimes he missed that rib, but at the moment, not so much. The Big Guy had been right about him needing some companionship and Eve fit that bill rather well. Last night, she had done that special thing (hey it's paradise, right and it wouldn't be paradise without an occasional blow job, would it?) and it had been good. No begatting from that either, though maybe later, who knows?

But right now he was hungry. "Say, Eve, how about a little breakfast? Whaddaya got? Maybe a bagel with some nice smoked salmon? Some manna from heaven?"

Eve stirred. "Sorry, Goldman. We're all out of smoked salmon and the Eden Deli doesn't open until later. As far manna, we've had that every day for the last six months. I'm sick of manna."

There was a rustling sound as a serpent slithered over to the bed of fragrant petals that had fallen from the tree under which they had slept. "You could make him a nice apple pie," he hissed.

"Yeah, Goldman, that would be nice wouldn't it? A little cinnamon, some cloves and nutmeg. That would get the bad taste out of my mouth."

"What bad taste, Moore? That's the future of humanity you're talking about. But you know very well that the Big Guy said no apples."

"You could sneak one while the Big Guy is busy with that supernova over in the Andromeda nebula. What he doesn't know, won't hurt him," the snake hissed.

"You shut up!" Adam said.

"It's tempting," Eve said. "He can't be everywhere at once, can he? Come on Goldman, can't you smell that pie baking? Live a little!"

"I dunno, Moore, this sounds like a bad idea."

"What if while the pie is baking, we, you know..."

"I see trouble coming," Adam said, but before he could stop her, she had reached up and grabbed a big, fat, juicy apple off the tree.

Suddenly a booming voice rang out. "I saw that, Moore!" the Big Guy said. "You remember I strictly forbade you to pick any of those apples."

"But...but..he said it was OK!" Eve protested, pointing at the serpent.

"Who's the Boss here, him or Me?" the voice asked.

"Well, technically, that would be Bruce Springsteen," Adam replied, "But I see your point. Eve really screwed up this time, didn't she?"

"Big time!" the Big Guy replied. "You guys are going to have to hit the road, I'm afraid. Out of here, on the double!"

"Listen," Adam replied. "That seems a little harsh. We got nowhere else to go. Why don't you let me take care of this?"

"How?" the Big Guy asked.

"Well, she does have a very nice tight little," Adam replied.

"And?"

"I could, you know, apply some punishment to it, if you get my drift. And you could watch, of course."

"Hmm...that sounds interesting. I suppose she would wriggle and squirm and shriek and moan, wouldn't she?"

"Oh, I'll guarantee that," Adam replied.

"OK, it's a deal. We'll give you guys another chance provided you punish her really well."

Adam turned to Eve. "You heard the man, Moore. Well, he's not actually a man, but you know what I mean. So go cut me a nice supple willow branch and get that tight little over that log." Eve slunk away muttering something about why her tight little had to be whipped rather than the serpent's, but she had to admit that the serpent didn't really have a tight little...
 
F6771641-992B-402E-878A-C74BD4479359.jpeg
Some bloke in steerage tried to convince Great Great Aunt Agnes to stage a mock nude crucifixion and sing a full-throated love song from the bow of Titanic in the middle of the night, but she demurred, saying “modesty prevents me from doing such a showboat thing!”
 
windar said:
This one goes WAY back

Adam Goldman stretched out his arm to stroke the delectable left breast of the delectable Eve Moore. Sometimes he missed that rib, but at the moment, not so much. The Big Guy had been right about him needing some companionship and Eve fit that bill rather well. Last night, she had done that special thing (hey it's paradise, right and it wouldn't be paradise without an occasional blow job, would it?) and it had been good. No begatting from that either, though maybe later, who knows?

But right now he was hungry. "Say, Eve, how about a little breakfast? Whaddaya got? Maybe a bagel with some nice smoked salmon? Some manna from heaven?"

Eve stirred. "Sorry, Goldman. We're all out of smoked salmon and the Eden Deli doesn't open until later. As far manna, we've had that every day for the last six months. I'm sick of manna."

There was a rustling sound as a serpent slithered over to the bed of fragrant petals that had fallen from the tree under which they had slept. "You could make him a nice apple pie," he hissed.

"Yeah, Goldman, that would be nice wouldn't it? A little cinnamon, some cloves and nutmeg. That would get the bad taste out of my mouth."

"What bad taste, Moore? That's the future of humanity you're talking about. But you know very well that the Big Guy said no apples."

"You could sneak one while the Big Guy is busy with that supernova over in the Andromeda nebula. What he doesn't know, won't hurt him," the snake hissed.

"You shut up!" Adam said.

"It's tempting," Eve said. "He can't be everywhere at once, can he? Come on Goldman, can't you smell that pie baking? Live a little!"

"I dunno, Moore, this sounds like a bad idea."

"What if while the pie is baking, we, you know..."

"I see trouble coming," Adam said, but before he could stop her, she had reached up and grabbed a big, fat, juicy apple off the tree.

Suddenly a booming voice rang out. "I saw that, Moore!" the Big Guy said. "You remember I strictly forbade you to pick any of those apples."

"But...but..he said it was OK!" Eve protested, pointing at the serpent.

"Who's the Boss here, him or Me?" the voice asked.

"Well, technically, that would be Bruce Springsteen," Adam replied, "But I see your point. Eve really screwed up this time, didn't she?"

"Big time!" the Big Guy replied. "You guys are going to have to hit the road, I'm afraid. Out of here, on the double!"

"Listen," Adam replied. "That seems a little harsh. We got nowhere else to go. Why don't you let me take care of this?"

"How?" the Big Guy asked.

"Well, she does have a very nice tight little," Adam replied.

"And?"

"I could, you know, apply some punishment to it, if you get my drift. And you could watch, of course."

"Hmm...that sounds interesting. I suppose she would wriggle and squirm and shriek and moan, wouldn't she?"

"Oh, I'll guarantee that," Adam replied.

"OK, it's a deal. We'll give you guys another chance provided you punish her really well."

Adam turned to Eve. "You heard the man, Moore. Well, he's not actually a man, but you know what I mean. So go cut me a nice supple willow branch and get that tight little over that log." Eve slunk away muttering something about why her tight little had to be whipped rather than the serpent's, but she had to admit that the serpent didn't really have a tight little...
Click to expand...

Giggle snort! :p

Anyone else out there care to contribute? You’re very welcome to do so ...

:popcorn:
 
Loxuru said:
Titanic disaster was in 1912.

Or is aunt Agnes' memory fading, and does she confuse with the RMS Empress of Ireland disaster?:doh:
Click to expand...
White Star! 1912! Unusually sloppy reporting from our usually so reliable history buff! But it was her omission that I find most disturbing - in Aunt Agnes's papers there is a note of the last words she heard from the Captain:
"GAWD!! This is a Night To Remember!!"​
 
Barbaria1 said:
As nearly everyone here at CruxForums knows by now, I am not in the least bit responsible for causing the infamous CruxForums site crash of the summer of 2013. Yet, being as isolated and bored as everyone else during this pandemic, I’ve been amusing myself lately by delving into my ancestry. And, low and behold, I’ve discovered that miscues and calamity, intentional or not, have been Moore or less a plague of sorts throughout the family line.

So, I’ve decided to start this thread on which I plan to share some of the Moore remarkable of those ancestral misadventures in the form of a series of short ... Moore believable than not vignettes ... the first of which is the true story behind the sinking of RMS Titanic in the early hours of April 15, 1912.



1. The Sinking of the Titanic

The principal in this familial misadventure was my Great Great Aunt Agnes Moore. Prior to the Titanic’s fateful maiden voyage, Agnes had been employed for a number of years by a Lord Wragg as a housemaid at Cruxton Abbey, earning £15 per annum.

View attachment 909207

However, after repeated miscues, resulting in the breakage of priceless family crystal and china, as well as the unnecessary spillage of much port and whisky, and after the failure on numerous occasions of corporal discipline administered late at night on her tight little by Wragg personally, either with her locked in the stocks located in the cellar of the Abbey or bound spreadeagled to a four poster bed in his own quarters, the good man decided the poor clumsy girl was utterly hopeless (even though a delightful piece between the sheets) and regretfully fobbed her off, for a good price, in the spring of 1912, as a maid to an acquaintance, one Phineas Tree, who had just booked passage on the Titanic’s maiden voyage from Southampton to New York.

On April 14, well out in the North Atlantic, the Titanic’s radio operators began to receive warnings ... six in all ... from other ships that had sighted potentially dangerous bergs and ice floes. The ship’s Captain, who was hoping, at the time, to break the Atlantic crossing speed record, dismissed the warnings and ordered full steam ahead ... trusting, as he said, that lookouts in the crow’s nest 29 meters (95 fee) above the deck, would give adequate warning of any impending danger.

No one knew for certain what Great Great Aunt Agnes and her new employer had been up to, but survivors reported afterward that from outside the door of a good many first class cabins, wild screams and moans, cries of both ecstasy and pain, as well as a woman’s cursing, could be heard throughout the night. The fact that Phineas Tree, that night, sat up into the early morning hours in the first class salon, smoking, drinking, and chuckling as he counted and recounted a growing wad of banknotes, suggests that he, with Agnes’ help, were into something quite profitable.

Meanwhile, the last ditch attempt by an inexperienced helmsman to avoid a head on collision with a looming iceberg, was attempted belatedly, without the Captain on the bridge, resulting in a gaping gash being torn in the steel plating of the unsinkable liner’s side.

And of course, an unanswered question regarding the disaster has always been: where was the Captain at that critical moment?

There were reports that the Captain had been drinking heavily in the first class salon that night, as he often did, and that he had disappeared from there, presumably to his quarters, just prior to the moment of disaster. We’ll never know for sure what he was doing in his cabin at that critical moment because he went down with his ship.

Oddly though, when rescued by the RMS Carpathia the next day, Great Great Aunt Agnes was said to have been found afloat, totally naked and bound spreadeagled on what was believed to have been the Captain’s cabin bed ... a fact that never came to light, though, in any official sense as it was quickly suppressed by solicitors in the service of the White Star Line.

I’m told that Great Great Aunt Agnes, who lived well in America due to a fat settlement following the disaster, never wanted to talk about what happened. But as I rummaged about in an old chest belonging to her in the interest of researching my ancestral past, I did come across this astonishing photo of her spreadeagled naked on what appears to have been one of the Titanic’s luxury cabin beds,

View attachment 909204
Click to expand...
I love this Barb! Well done ... I love a little bit of "Authentic Histoire"! I need to dust down those diaries of the young Bárbara Morales of Palos de la Frontera, which came into my possession some time ago and see if there's an appropriately scandalous vignette that could be shared ...
 
windar said:
This one goes WAY back

Adam Goldman stretched out his arm to stroke the delectable left breast of the delectable Eve Moore. Sometimes he missed that rib, but at the moment, not so much. The Big Guy had been right about him needing some companionship and Eve fit that bill rather well. Last night, she had done that special thing (hey it's paradise, right and it wouldn't be paradise without an occasional blow job, would it?) and it had been good. No begatting from that either, though maybe later, who knows?

But right now he was hungry. "Say, Eve, how about a little breakfast? Whaddaya got? Maybe a bagel with some nice smoked salmon? Some manna from heaven?"

Eve stirred. "Sorry, Goldman. We're all out of smoked salmon and the Eden Deli doesn't open until later. As far manna, we've had that every day for the last six months. I'm sick of manna."

There was a rustling sound as a serpent slithered over to the bed of fragrant petals that had fallen from the tree under which they had slept. "You could make him a nice apple pie," he hissed.

"Yeah, Goldman, that would be nice wouldn't it? A little cinnamon, some cloves and nutmeg. That would get the bad taste out of my mouth."

"What bad taste, Moore? That's the future of humanity you're talking about. But you know very well that the Big Guy said no apples."

"You could sneak one while the Big Guy is busy with that supernova over in the Andromeda nebula. What he doesn't know, won't hurt him," the snake hissed.

"You shut up!" Adam said.

"It's tempting," Eve said. "He can't be everywhere at once, can he? Come on Goldman, can't you smell that pie baking? Live a little!"

"I dunno, Moore, this sounds like a bad idea."

"What if while the pie is baking, we, you know..."

"I see trouble coming," Adam said, but before he could stop her, she had reached up and grabbed a big, fat, juicy apple off the tree.

Suddenly a booming voice rang out. "I saw that, Moore!" the Big Guy said. "You remember I strictly forbade you to pick any of those apples."

"But...but..he said it was OK!" Eve protested, pointing at the serpent.

"Who's the Boss here, him or Me?" the voice asked.

"Well, technically, that would be Bruce Springsteen," Adam replied, "But I see your point. Eve really screwed up this time, didn't she?"

"Big time!" the Big Guy replied. "You guys are going to have to hit the road, I'm afraid. Out of here, on the double!"

"Listen," Adam replied. "That seems a little harsh. We got nowhere else to go. Why don't you let me take care of this?"

"How?" the Big Guy asked.

"Well, she does have a very nice tight little," Adam replied.

"And?"

"I could, you know, apply some punishment to it, if you get my drift. And you could watch, of course."

"Hmm...that sounds interesting. I suppose she would wriggle and squirm and shriek and moan, wouldn't she?"

"Oh, I'll guarantee that," Adam replied.

"OK, it's a deal. We'll give you guys another chance provided you punish her really well."

Adam turned to Eve. "You heard the man, Moore. Well, he's not actually a man, but you know what I mean. So go cut me a nice supple willow branch and get that tight little over that log." Eve slunk away muttering something about why her tight little had to be whipped rather than the serpent's, but she had to admit that the serpent didn't really have a tight little...
Click to expand...
Yet Moore substance to the theories of our homosapien evolution ... excellent Windar!
 
windar said:
This one goes WAY back

Adam Goldman stretched out his arm to stroke the delectable left breast of the delectable Eve Moore. Sometimes he missed that rib, but at the moment, not so much. The Big Guy had been right about him needing some companionship and Eve fit that bill rather well. Last night, she had done that special thing (hey it's paradise, right and it wouldn't be paradise without an occasional blow job, would it?) and it had been good. No begatting from that either, though maybe later, who knows?

But right now he was hungry. "Say, Eve, how about a little breakfast? Whaddaya got? Maybe a bagel with some nice smoked salmon? Some manna from heaven?"

Eve stirred. "Sorry, Goldman. We're all out of smoked salmon and the Eden Deli doesn't open until later. As far manna, we've had that every day for the last six months. I'm sick of manna."

There was a rustling sound as a serpent slithered over to the bed of fragrant petals that had fallen from the tree under which they had slept. "You could make him a nice apple pie," he hissed.

"Yeah, Goldman, that would be nice wouldn't it? A little cinnamon, some cloves and nutmeg. That would get the bad taste out of my mouth."

"What bad taste, Moore? That's the future of humanity you're talking about. But you know very well that the Big Guy said no apples."

"You could sneak one while the Big Guy is busy with that supernova over in the Andromeda nebula. What he doesn't know, won't hurt him," the snake hissed.

"You shut up!" Adam said.

"It's tempting," Eve said. "He can't be everywhere at once, can he? Come on Goldman, can't you smell that pie baking? Live a little!"

"I dunno, Moore, this sounds like a bad idea."

"What if while the pie is baking, we, you know..."

"I see trouble coming," Adam said, but before he could stop her, she had reached up and grabbed a big, fat, juicy apple off the tree.

Suddenly a booming voice rang out. "I saw that, Moore!" the Big Guy said. "You remember I strictly forbade you to pick any of those apples."

"But...but..he said it was OK!" Eve protested, pointing at the serpent.

"Who's the Boss here, him or Me?" the voice asked.

"Well, technically, that would be Bruce Springsteen," Adam replied, "But I see your point. Eve really screwed up this time, didn't she?"

"Big time!" the Big Guy replied. "You guys are going to have to hit the road, I'm afraid. Out of here, on the double!"

"Listen," Adam replied. "That seems a little harsh. We got nowhere else to go. Why don't you let me take care of this?"

"How?" the Big Guy asked.

"Well, she does have a very nice tight little," Adam replied.

"And?"

"I could, you know, apply some punishment to it, if you get my drift. And you could watch, of course."

"Hmm...that sounds interesting. I suppose she would wriggle and squirm and shriek and moan, wouldn't she?"

"Oh, I'll guarantee that," Adam replied.

"OK, it's a deal. We'll give you guys another chance provided you punish her really well."

Adam turned to Eve. "You heard the man, Moore. Well, he's not actually a man, but you know what I mean. So go cut me a nice supple willow branch and get that tight little over that log." Eve slunk away muttering something about why her tight little had to be whipped rather than the serpent's, but she had to admit that the serpent didn't really have a tight little...
Click to expand...
God, Windar. You've pretty much preempted any of the other efforts here. Your one is by definition, the ultimate screw-up. Even worse than crashing cruxforums!!
 
Barbaria1 said:
Agnes had been employed for a number of years by a Lord Wragg as a housemaid at Cruxton Abbey, earning £15 per annum.
Click to expand...
The Wraggs went through a phase of being unusually generous in the early 20th century. :rolleyes:

Barbaria1 said:
However, after repeated miscues, resulting in the breakage of priceless family crystal and china, as well as the unnecessary spillage of much port and whisky, and after the failure on numerous occasions of corporal discipline administered late at night on her tight little by Wragg personally, either with her locked in the stocks located in the cellar of the Abbey or bound spreadeagled to a four poster bed in his own quarters, the good man decided the poor clumsy girl was utterly hopeless (even though a delightful piece between the sheets) and regretfully fobbed her off, for a good price, in the spring of 1912, as a maid to an acquaintance, one Phineas Tree, who had just booked passage on the Titanic’s maiden voyage from Southampton to New York.
Click to expand...
He only drinks Seagrams, you see. It doesn't matter so much if it gets spilt, ;)

Barbaria1 said:
Oddly though, when rescued by the RMS Carpathia the next day, Great Great Aunt Agnes was said to have been found afloat, totally naked and bound spreadeagled on what was believed to have been the Captain’s cabin bed ... a fact that never came to light, though, in any official sense as it was quickly suppressed by solicitors in the service of the White Star Line.
Click to expand...
I see that your dirty minds have immediately jumped to an 'obvious' conclusion, but check the fine print in the White Star Line emergency procedure manual:

"Para 612: In the highly unlikely event of danger of immersion, passengers are stronly advised to divest themselves of any nasty, heavy clothes and get themselves firmly attached to something that floats. In the absence of premium French lumbar we would suggest a day bed as an altenative."

See? Agnes Moore was a good girl! And look, she survived! How? By reading the fine print! :nono:

It's just such a pity that such care does not seem to have been handed down in the Moore genes. :doh:
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom