Carry On Dancing

A (not very) brief note from one of the players.

Dear COD & Moon,

The term “epic” is the most fitting word I can find to describe the last six and a half years. You see, that’s how long I’ve been involved in Carry on Dancing (code word: codfish). Although, to be fair, I have "retired" twice now. Even though we’ve been sporadic of late, we always talked about bringing it back with a bang. The game's last entries were our final sendoff. We hope it was more of an explosion than a whimper. Sometimes there are things you simply must put away for good. And while I only speak for myself, I have a feeling that all the players put this game away with relief but also a little bit of regret too.

Without giving away identities (though many of the players have revealed themselves -- some of us wish to remain anon-y-mice), Carry on Dancing and its sister site To The Moon and Back sprang from one of our core member’s mad idea to parody the books we loved and loved to hate in 2004. Most of us had met in 2001 on a Queen of the Damned fan board and kept in touch, so we all jumped on the idea. From that a parody was born. Truly, the players are some of the funniest, wittiest, and intelligent people I know. Sorry, you non-mush rats, but it’s true.

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my twin, my blood, the other half of my heart is gone. i wrap her hair around my arms to try to remember what she felt like. my friends, my coven, my sources of rum ... all gone. the scatters of their ashes line my footsteps.

grief.

grief.

grief.

where are the answers? shall i be left in the stone coffin of the world alone? i can't do anything but weep. the blood tears stain my ....

what? who? WHAT!?!? I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, BITH!!!!!!!11111

So, my dear readers... this is it.

Everyone's been popped! They took Armand (haha) and Marius (boo) and Daniel (double-boo!) and all the other rad and not-so-rad dudes and dudettes, until only Louis, Claudia and yours truly remain. Oh, and Mekare, but she's superfluous right now.

 You see, I totes think God has something to do with this. Or something! Here I am, with my immortal family, huddled together in some dusty little room in New Orleans, and we're together again. It's like Interview With the Vampire, except without the GODDAMN LIES AND MISUNDERSTANDINGS AND TOTAL CHARACTER ASSASSINATIONS OF HOT PEOPLE

Ahem. Sorry about that.

I was telling you all the truth when I said that I didn't do the poppings. I still don't know. But, babes, I am blessed. We made it through the wilderness! Somehow, we made it through. Didn't know how lost we were until we found... er, goo. We were beat, incomplete and now it's shiny! Like the eighteenth century!!!

Oh my, Mael. This is even better than when I first discovered the Dewey Decimal system!

In the midst of everything we've finally found each other. Our hearts beating loudly, pulses quickening...

...ooh Mael!

'Nobody cares about Eric', eh? EH? Well, Maharet, does, bitches! She invited me anyway. Where's that red-headed minx? And in the meantime, cups of tea all 'round! I'll sneer at you for a bit and then all will be forgiven.

 All right. Everybody be calm. We are in an attic. We are safe. After all, we have each other. 

By jove! This is a terribly exciting weekend! So much excitement and small, dark passages! I haven't had this much fun since MJ was alive.(Ah, allow me to raise a cup of tea to my fallen comrade.)

I'm awfully excited at who the killer could be! I suspect Mael. He has that sexy roguish leading man quality that Lestat sadly lacks.

Oh, oh! Another minibus is arriving! And it has, crikey, Petrunia at the wheel! S/he looks rather golly harrassed! And...Santino? Oh! Benji! Looking quite the dish! Bianca! The whole gang!

Chaps? Petrunia is running rather fast towards us, which is a feat while wearing one Doc Martin and one stiletto. What's that? Danger? Oh! Now, they're all running from the bus! What on earth...

CRIMINY! THE BUS JUST BLEW UP!

LESTAT! WHAT HAVE YOU BLOODY DONE?!

What? Dead, my love? Can Merrick really be dead (again)? O, my soul! It shall tear itself in two. Was ever man born to endure such grief? I must drink to her memory.

My darling fans,

Whoah! I am, like, so excited! I'm sitting here in the Coven Minibus (what? Was a limousine too classy for you, Mael?) at the back (that's where the cool cats hang out), recording this awesome adventure in my journal. Perhaps it'll be a bestseller one day!! 

We're all off on a teambuilding exercise! It's a Murder Mystery weekend, at 1239 First Street, New Orleans! It's a creepy old mansion that's totes going to scare the hell out of all these plebs--

GET OFF DANIEL 

-- and I'm totes going to rule! With my songs! Wait, wait, turn the radio up, Mael! THIS IS MY SONG!! 

ETA: We're here!!! 

Dear Louis,

Blondes are dumb as evidenced by Felix following me into the Theatre of the Vampires after Armand's temper tantrum of 1780. You do not want to be like Felix and follow in Lestat's footsteps similarly do you? Oh wait. You did.

Do not continue repeat the mistakes of the past, Louis or you will surely succeed in in effecting your own self-fulfilling prophecy. You shall become dumb, blond AND depressed/ing. That is forbidden. You must be brunette to deepen your melancholia thereby enhancing your gift so that you can finally reach death perfection.

I will sit with you beneath Lafayette Cemetary for as long as it takes for you to become what you became.

Love always,

Eleni