About Mormyrid

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So far Mormyrid has created 47 blog entries.
3 06, 2015

Weekly Question

By | June 3rd, 2015|Games|0 Comments

Time Travelers’ Potlatch

In Time-Travelers’ Potlatch, each player indicates the gift that she/he would present to various historical, mythical, or fictional figures on the occasion of their meeting.

Marquis de Sade:
Leonora Carrington:
Winston Churchill:
Franz Kafka:
Elvis Presley:
Al Capone:

Ashley Deflaminis:

Marquis de Sade: A shredded corn dish.
Leonora Carrington: Lemons in a shimmery spoon.
Winston Churchill: Donkeys and Elephants soaring through the island breeze.
Franz Kafka: A hawaiian tiki on a shoe tread.
Elvis Preseley: 3 oranges, 2 sponges, and 5 wishes in steamy pot.
Al Capone: Flexible bricks holding fossilized eels.

Steven Cline:

Marquis de Sade: Five strokes of luck
Leonora Carrington: A golden elixir, or two drops of bread
Winston Churchill: A tall white hat
Franz Kafka: A shadow to follow him around
Elvis Presley: Flaming guitar
Al Capone: A tall black hat


Casi Cline

Marquis de Sade: A Mud Mask
Leonora Carrington: A Sphinx
Winston Churchill: Toupée
Franz Kafka: A friend
Elvis Presley: A banana
Al Capone: A Chisel

Angel Dionne:

Marquis de Sade: Reticulated laughter in a bowl
Leonora Carrington: Seared pineapple cubes
Winston Churchill: A box of screams
Franz Kafka: Spherical genitalia
Elvis Presley: Bedazzled onion blossom
Al Capone: A pine tree with an unpredictable temper

17 05, 2015

Weekly Question

By | May 17th, 2015|Games|0 Comments

Write a 25-word short story that incorporates all of the following words (answers will be posted on website blog):

Scorched
Cream
Raven
Dough
Flailing

Casi Cline:

The cream-filled scorched dough epiphanies were the only delight of the pastry chefs doomed to a lifetime of panicked flailing in the Raven’s infernal kitchen.

Steven Cline:

The scorched earth policy of ravens created a bubbling of dough and a flailing of cream-covered pudding,which became disturbed by the thought of ovulating.

Andrew Mendez:

Scorched by dough boys as they come out of foxholes spreading cream over the raven’s soft spot while flailing the clock into minutes.

26 04, 2015

Weekly Question

By | April 26th, 2015|Games|0 Comments

Make your own surrealist superstitions or proverbs.

Casi Cline:

To ensure a female child will be marriageable, the father must smear her forehead with the milk of the largest bull in the county during every new moon until the first menstrus cycle is successfully completed.

Steven Cline:

Counting backwards from 17 can be dangerous, often leading to reality breakdown and cottage cheese growths.

Angel Dionne:

Consume extra Sahara Desert for crispy dreams.

18 04, 2015

Weekly Question

By | April 18th, 2015|Games|0 Comments

Weekly Question

1) What does surrealism taste like?
2) What is its texture?



David Nadeau –

1) Surrealism tastes like aromatical herbs unknown to mankind since the Paleolithic.
2) Its texture is made of furs and claws.

Steven Cline –

1) Strawberries covered in melted white cheese.

2) A sharp metal mesh

Casi Cline –

1) Surrealism tastes like strawberries dipped in brine.

2) Its texture is that of blood two hours absent from the vein.

Barney Schauer –

1) Surrealism has no taste, it is void of all flavor, spice, and has zero trans fat and preservatives. Also it tastes like watermelon.

2) Its texture is placebo.

Ashley DeFlaminis –

1) Surrealism tastes like the juicy crust of the earth.

2) The texture of surrealism has the same feel in your mouth as when a jellyfish scratches the side of your foot.

Angel Dionne –

1) Surrealism tastes of stone peacocks.

2) Its texture is that of thick rice pudding.

Ian Pyper –

1) It tastes like the tongues of dead black swans

2) It has the texture of astral dust that has melted too close to the sun.

18 04, 2015

Water Mormyrid – A Dream Record

By | April 18th, 2015|Dreams|0 Comments

I was a mormyrid composed of water. It was the most horrifying and yet delicious sense I had ever experienced. I could suddenly feel the sharp edges of my teeth fray from my eyeballs, like beams of light coming through a window on a warm Sunday morning.

– contributed by Ashley DeFlaminis