Scenes that won't make it into aMoL
by Galad the Spiffy-Neat

What can I say? It's 4:30 in the morning, and I've got way to much time on my hands


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Moridin : Well, I've got some good news, and some bad news.

Demandred : What's the bad news?

Moridin : Al'Thor has managed to unite all the nations, including the Seanchan and Aes Sedai. He completely obliterated the Black Ajah and Dark Asha'man, and is currently approaching Shayol Ghul with the might of the entire world behind him.

Demandred : .... And the good news?

Moridin : I just saved a ton of money on my jo-car insurance by switching to Geico!

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After a long night of drinking to celebrate Matt's marriage....

Mat : Dude, what's mine say?

Talmanes : Sweet. What's mine say?

Mat : Dude. What's mine say?

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Rand : I am overflowing with brotherly love and affection. Let's embrace.

Galad : Actually, I'm a Darkfriend. *stabs*

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Chapter 41 : The 300 Year-Old Virgin

Min : Cadsuane wouldn't be nearly so uptight if she was getting some on a regular basis.

Rand : Good idea, Min. Any volunteers? Logain? Anybody?

*silence*

Min : Oh, come on!

Logain : The flaw in this plan, as I see it, is that it requires someone to actually want to spend time with her.

Min : ...I suppose that would be problematic.

Rand : Right. On to the next order of business?

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Egwene : Gawyn, fetch me my slippers.

Gawyn : Yes, dear.

Egwene : Gawyn, give me a foot massage.

Gawyn : Yes, dear.

Egwene : Gawyn, lie down in that mud puddle so I can step on your back and not get my slippers dirty.

Gawyn : Yes, dear.

Egwene : Gawyn, I've decided I don't want children. Have yourself castrated immediately.

Gawyn : Don't worry, dear. Between you and Elayne, I've been so emasculated I doubt my privates even work anymore.

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[At the manor of Lady Basene in Arad Doman]

Basene: I'm just a harmless old woman. Certainly not a Chosen--I mean, Forsaken--in disguise. Don't pay me any mind, Mr. Lord Dragon, sir.
Cadsuane: There's something suspicious here.
[The Illusion flickers]
Rand: You? No!
Graendal: Funny, that's the same thing Asmodean said right before I killed him.

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Taim: As you can see, my Lord Dragon, the accusations against me are completely false. I've personally shown you everything that goes on here at the Black Tower, from the Soldiers' barracks to the secret underground torture chambers to the hidden rooms in my palace where thirteen Mryddraal and thirteen Dreadlords--I mean, Asha'man--regularly forcibly turn channelers to the Shadow. We have nothing to hide, here.
Rand: Well, everything seems to be in order to me. Seems you really are just jealous, Logain.
Logain: B-but... th... the.. torture chamber.... Myrddraal...
Taim: He seems to be incoherent with envy.
Rand: Gee, it must be tough being the M'Hael.
Taim: I live to serve... the Great Lord!
Rand: What was that?
Taim: Nothing. Nothing at all.

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Gawyn: You know, suddenly it seems completely illogical for me to have ever believed that questionable rumor I heard from a disreputable peddler saying al'Thor had killed my mother. Especially since the person I love most in this world was with him pretty much the entire time, and swore he hadn't done it. And Min, whom I trust and care for, told me Elayne doesn't believe it, either. Instead of immediately believing it, maybe I should have investigated on my own, and might have even discovered that she had disappeared from Caemlyn before al'Thor had gotten there.
*ponders this for several minutes*
.....Nah.

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In NE 1000, war was beginning....

Rand: What happen?
Bashere: Someone set up us the bomb.
Narishma: We get signal.
Rand: What!
Narishma: Main screen turn on.
Rand: It's you!
Moridin: How are you gentlemen!! All your base are belong to us. You are on the way to destruction.
Rand: What you say!!
Moridin: You have no chance to survive make your time. Ha ha ha ha....
Cadsuane: What the hell....?

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Graendal: Here's my initial diagnosis, from spending half an hour in your presence: you seem to be clinically depressed, you have unnatural cravings and fetishes, and you suffer from violent mood swings. Then there are those mysterious bouts of nausea....
Rand: Ohmigod I'm pregnant!
Graendal: *facepalm*

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Romanda: It seems we've been able to come to an acceptable compromise with the sisters in the Tower.
Tarna: An excellent compromise.
Egwene: Oh good, I can get out of this unflattering novice dress now.
Lelaine: Actually, even though they agreed to remove Elaida, they didn't agree to accept you as Amyrlin.
Egwene: What?
Romanda: But it's all right. We've managed to find an Amyrlin that everyone agrees on!
Sharina: Thank you, daughters, thank you. As my first act as Amyrlin, I want everyone to go and clean their rooms. And make sure all your nice, pretty dresses are spotless, or you'll be scrubbing pots for a month.
Egwene: Wait a minute.... You can't do that! She was just a novice!
Tarna: Well, you were just an Accepted. Deal.
Sharina: FYI, if any of you disobey me, I will personally turn you over my knee and spank you, just like I did with my children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.
Egwene: &*!@#%&**%
Sharina: I will not tolerate that sort of language. And you have a bit of lint on your dress. Feel free to call me Mommy if this brings back any painful childhood memories.

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