beginnings

Well, this seems to be a beginning. So lets start with the beginning, shall we? Or, rather a series of beginnings.

There was once a little dog named Spode, and he was the worst dog in his entire town. He used to bite the ankles of a child called by everyone in her town Ambelina. The reasons for this was forgotten by the girl, but it was said that on one summers day she was going on a picnic with her family and strayed into the forest next to the meadow.

The forest was haunted by a benevolent pixie, who used to take rides on the back of the great lizard Actuin. Actuin was the head of his lizard clan, and the bitter rival of Clevant, the head of the tortoise clan.

Clevant was the oldest tortoise, and therefor considered the wisest, but this is a logical fallacy, because greater age does not always mean greater wisdom, as Clevant was to learn that fateful day in January. It was a very cold January and the old tortoise was moving very slowly. He was bumbling along, thinking about how to find a warmer place to sun himself when he tumbled along the path to Mr. McGreggor's hut.

And that's all you get for now because it's getting to be rather too long, and rather too late. I shall post more beginnings and possibly some middles later.

Love Bites

The bruise above my kneww
has faded some
I wear my skirt hiked up
And think of you

I want people to see;
to think I'm claimed
with this badge of honor,
this thing of pride

The shape has become strange
as though a bloom
has spread across my skin
in blue and green

Its place seems to suggest
that there are more
trailing up past my hems
to darker places

But really, the truth is
I fell over, riding my bike
while not thinking of you at all
(not at all, I swear)

Resurrect or Reanimate? A concourse on the Benefits and Detriments of Raising the Dead

I collected my first few corpses (don't worry, they were willing subjects!) and I'm ready to Execute my Plans. But there's a very important question to be answered, and I'm leaving it up to you, dear readers.
Shall I reanimate or resurrect the corpses? Both present problems and advantages. For instance, Reanimated don't talk back, but they also don't do anything unless they're explicitly ordered and even then they probably won't do it right. Resurrected can look after themselves and don't need to be reminded how to walk every 5 minutes, but can sometimes come to the absurd conclusion that what their Master is doing is Evil and Must be Thrown Into the Pits of Hell (or something else dreadful)
So what shall I do? Vote in comments section!

Microwaves and echos

It's taken me a long time, but I think I've finally figured out what my microwave is trying to tell me when it beeps.
"Finished!" is 3
"I'm switching power cycles now." is 5 in the middle of heating.
"HELP, I AM ON FIRE." Is 13
"Go away" Is 2 rather short beeps
"Whatever it is, I'm against it." Is 7
"You're not paying enough attention to me" is 4, repeated until it's satisfied
"I don't care what you say, I'm not going to heat that to the right temperature, and you're just going to have to live with it." Is 8
"I've been disconnected!" Is 1.5
"Feed me" is 6
"I am pouting because I am feeling ignored" Is one long, low beep.
and "I'm happy!" NEVER STOPS.

Alone, in the kitchen with an onion

Inspired by the second story on this episode of "selected Shorts" (though you should listen to the first one as well) I have a question for all of you. What do you find yourself making, again and again (even though you know no one else in the world would think it ;s normal) when your alone, in the kitchen with no one else to cook for?
I grill onions. Sometimes in butter, sometimes in olive oil, with mushrooms when I have them, usually with garlic, sometimes with a little cheese melted into it. But usually, just slopped straight from the pan into a bowl, all gooey and salty, eaten alone with a fork.

Armageddon and Tea

Taking a repast between fighting Armageddon.

It really wasn't supposed to turn out this way, and we're very sorry. We didn't realize that this would actually happen, thought it was a joke. Loki and I found this old recipe - very old recipe - in a book buried in the attic at that old church we were scavenging in in Innsmouth. And, well we're both tea enthusiasts you see, so we couldn't resist it. It sounded like fun at the time. So we made it. And drank it.
Forgive us please, we honestly didn't believe this would happen. It's been exciting though, hasn't it? Zombies and horsemen and the leagions of heaven and hell, giant ships made of dead men's toenails, titans and monsters, heroes and villains. Too bad about the robots, really thought they were going to be on our side. And the swine.
We're still sorry for starting the whole thing, honestly. Too bad the tea wasn't very good.

Excerpt from a Very Old Book Indeed:

Armageddon Tea is made from the Blackest of Black Lapsang Souchong leaves dried over the burning embers of Yggdrasil the life tree, imbuing the leaves with smokey bitterness and despair. Other flavors are added later, including bitter orange and Naga Jolokia peppers harvested in their native Assam at the peak of summer.

Instructions for brewing Armageddon tea:
To achieve full flavor, boil 1 cup of leaves in 1 gallon of the tears of the innocent over hellfire until the liquid is reduced to the size of your tea cup. Add a dash of bitter orange extract or essence of end times. Pour into your favorite tea cup and despair!

A word of warning: be careful not to look too deeply into your cup, as there is a slight chance that the blackness of it will consume your soul.

Prices

I've been asked what the price for a story is. But, like it says, price is negotiable. Whatever you can afford is fine withme, can you only spare the second breath that your third daughter took? Fine, I'll take it. Might not be a very long story, but you'll still get one. Maybe you never really wanted that freckle in your eye, anyway. That's cool, I can do something with it.
Lost favorite stuffed animals, odds and ends of bike parts from a bike you don't remember owning, family tapes filled with thumbs in the lens, dragonfly collections, horsefly whips, mighty eggplants, dainty oaks, burnt out light bulbs, the first time you realized that yes, peanut butter cups are an acceptable breakfast, snippets of your favorite dream, your worst nightmare, an old pen that doesn't work anymore (but still writes magnificent stories no one reads), a typewriter that's missing its Q, and has an extra B there instead, the pine needles that got stuck in your foot that time you decided it would be a good idea to go outside barefoot at the cabin, the first time you saw snow and realized that each little bit was unique from every other little bit, your understanding of Quantum Physics.
All these things are accepted, and whatever else you might have around that you don't need. Just ask, and I'll be able to trade something for it, I'm sure.

Balloons.

I bought a balloon today, but it wasn't what I expected. Personally, I blame my absurd stockings for this. I didn't have a camera, so this is what I ended up with at the end of the day:

Loki's Little Machine

I work with Loki at a Little Shop at our Local Mall. When she gets bored, or sick of dealing with people she has a little machine that she can turn on that creates a paradox. The paradox likewise creates a hole into another dimension. This other dimension has a higher gravity than ours and pulls customers in, never to be seen again. It's actually really cool, but sometimes she forgets to turn it off when she leaves.
The other night I was closing with our manager an no one came in the store all evening. We would see people walk by, but none of them would stick. They'd just disappear before they reached our other door. And then we figured out that Loki had left her paradox machine on. I need to figure out how to turn it off, if there's some sort of qualifier or something we can throw in there to break up the paradox.

Not an Opera

We thought we were going to an opera, and we were running late. We ended up parking in another realm completely from the theater. Our spot was in nearly the deepest cave of the parking structure, and we had a long, winding trek up to the surface.
And then, staring blearily into the sunlight we walked across the flat lands, through a tunnel and found ourselves finally at the opera house. Luckily, we weren't too late to get our tickets from will-call.
We had to make a base camp at the second landing, where we were met by a Sherpa with a goat, who would lead us to the top. It was a long, arduous climb up the sheer rock face of the opera house to Balcony B (including rickety ladder, rope-with-knots-tied-in and belaying). But we made it, eventually, and just in time for the start of the opera.
One the way back though, the Sherpa (and the goat) wandered off to let us find or way back on our own. We only got lost once, having gone to the deepest cave instead of nearly the deepest cave to find our car.
I won't get into finding the restaurant, which was technically just a few blocks away (and still somehow ended up being a longer journey than finding the car).
Oh, and the opera was sung very well, but the artistic direction left quite a bit to be desired. Good thing we were so high up we couldn't really see it!

A difficult situation

We were watching the sun come up, it was blood red.
And I turned to her, asking, "Did you know about this?"
She shrugged and shook her head, telling me to sit back and watch the show. The clouds were frothing over the horizon towards us, still red and orange. I was a little worried. I knew that we went to karaoke the night before, but I couldn't quite remember what we sang. I had a feeling that I wasn't supposed to. All I could remember was that the words didn't make any sense to me.
Then they came, galloping, the clouds spitting up behind them like great wakes in a lake. There were four of them, of course, as the words dictate. And they were leading the legions, of course, as the words dictate. I was getting uncomfortable.
"Is this what you wanted me to see? Is this what that song was about?" I asked.
I hugged my knees and she put her hand on my shoulder.
"It's lovely, isn't it? Don't be afraid, my dear. It's just as it's meant to be. You should be there, you know. Get your sword."
She stood, and held her hand out to me. Words filtered through my hung-over brain. Ph'nglui mglw'nafh. Wait, that couldn't be right. C'thulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. I remembered what they meant, now. I hadn't wanted to sing them, but I really had no choice in the matter. I looked at her hand and took it.
We stood together, and all I could think was, how am I supposed to fight in the Apocalypse with this bloody great hangover?

In the name of all that's logical

The other day at work there were singing, dancing mice. There were aging gymnasts offering me beet stew-soup ("It's good for you, you will like it") and foxes jumping over lazy brown dogs. But the oddest thing, the weirdest thing was the little Buddhist monk sitting on the bench outside, chatting on a cell phone. When she got up, she wandered into Victoria's secret.
I was left wonder what, in the name of all that's logical, could a little Buddhist monk possibly want from Victoria's secret? Are they having a sale on Saffron underwear? Incense-scented perfume (it would be a vast improvement on their usual scents)?
When she came back out, I asked her what, in the name of all that's logical, she could want from Victoria's secret.
She smiled, and her eye twinkled and she said, "It does well for one to do charity for others, so I take it upon myself to get rid of all the ugliest items in the store so no one else has to deal with them. And anyway, the ladies at the convent like them."
Who was I to argue?

Wait

Come back here, let me ask how I know you. Let's divulge out histories, find out how they cross. I'll tell you my secrets to find out who you are.

Look

If you look, very close in this picture, you will see:

1. an Angry Mango Tree

2. A wax bust of Mr. Sherlock Holmes

3. A Ballerina In a Bathing Costume

4. The Hamburgler Running Away

5. A Herring

6. A Very Foppish Hairdresser

7. A Blue Titmouse

8. Two Wood Puppets, one Male and One Elderly Female.

9: A Mustache

10. A Little Cactus

11. A Fractal Cat

12. Colin Mochrie

13. Two Books That Should Never Be Opened.

You don't get any clues, you have to figure out which is which on your own.

Well, Damn

They were selling magazine subscriptions (I don't really read Victorian Gentlemen's Quarterly or Lounge Lizards) and Luxury Vacations to Exotic Locations (I don't know that Delouth is really all that exotic, though). And I really was looking forward to those cookies.

Should I be Worried About This?

There seems so be a herd of Flying Gila Monsters outside my door. I don't know whether they want to sell me magazine subscriptions, candy or girl scout cookies.
I hope it's cookies. I could totally do with some thin mints or samoas right about now...

Well, actually, it's on the side.

Whenever I loose something, I look on my refrigerator; it's usually pinned there, whatever it is. The other day, we lost the car in our parking lot, so we walked all the way home and - lo and behold - there it was, stuck on the refrigerator with the hedgehog magnet.

loose leaf

She held the book by the spine and shook it vigorously, as though waiting for something to fall out. And then they did, falling like leaves onto the carpet, words and letters scattering everywhere.
"Ah ha!" she said, picking one of them up. "That's the word I was looking for! Now, where was I?"
"Expounding, I think." I said.
She continued talking, forgotten word found, while I was left to clean up the mess and put all the words back. At least I like how the ending turns out now.

I like pears

My pear was talking to me this morning at breakfast.
"Please," it said, "I need your help. I've lost something very important to me, and I think you might know where it got off to."
I was a little startled to hear my pear, but I wasn't about to use silly arguments like "you can't possibly be talking," since evidence was to the contrary. Instead I asked him what it was he lost.
"It's just a little thing, a spot that I'd been working on for the past few days. You may have seen it, it was over here, on my stem-end."
"Yes, I think I have.", I said, "What an odd thing to loose, a spot."
"I know, but can you help me?"
"I think I can." I said, and finished eating my breakfast.

Please close the door

There are things that slip through half-closed doors. Things that are neither here nor there, that are half in, half out of this place and that. And if you want to keep them out (which believe me, you do) close the door or open it. Do not leave it hanging so, halfway between, halfway in, halfway out.

We Stand Resolute.

I really only have one resolution this year. I know, I know, they're silly things to set, arbitrary goals that never amount to anything. But it's a simple one: Fail at keeping my resolutions.
Actually, I'd like to see a computer deal with that one, maybe I'll borrow Roderick from Rita...