Follow by Email

Google+ Followers

Friday, April 29, 2016

Dirk Destroyer Part 31 Chapter 14 Part 2

Our hero, Elmer Destroyer (who is only our hero because no one better came along,) has been verbally accosted by a sublime creature in glorious overalls. The reason he is accosted might have something to do with a number of facts.
1) Elmer is in the School of Amazing Stuff, though nobody ever said it was okay from him to be there.
2) Elmer is trying to steal food from the School of Amazing Stuff cafeteria where he had previously made off with a fanny pack full of tasty (if fecal-looking) smoked sausages.
3) Elmer, in trying to get sausage has somehow accessed red sauce.
4) Elmer is making a mess.
These reasons are only speculations. If you want to know the truth, you’ll have to read the rest of chapter 14 instead of this stupid italicized intro.
So why am I still writing this intro?
Why are you still reading this intro?

“I said turn off that dial, milk-face!” He sighed in highly exalted exasperation, put down his mop of glory, stepped around me and turned the dial.
“Sorry?” I said.
“You children!” he ranted in a voice that made my ears soar, my eyes sting, my nose tickle, and my mouth crave salt, “you come in here and mess around with things you don’t understand!”
“But I thought I understood.”
“But I thought I understood,” he repeated in glorious mimicry.
“I thought this spout gave out sausages.”
“Sausages!” he roared so loud that the scent of mint filled the room, “didn’t you read the weekly menu? It’s right there at the entrance.”
“I couldn’t read it,” I said.
“Of course you couldn’t, you little zygote. I’m surprised you know how to sit up and burp.”
“I am eight thousand years old,” I said.
“Eight thousand!” he deadpanned immaculately. “We’ve not a brat enrolled that’s under thirty thousand. I’m twenty-three million, myself, and still I’m a fine figure of…”
“Of what?”
He smiled beatifically, revealing a false tooth of majesty on his upper plate. “I can’t tell you,” he whispered so mysteriously that my nose hairs knotted themselves.
“Here” he said waving the mop over me. “I’m cutting you off from remote access to the time dial you found. That’s just too dangerous. No more sneaking around anymore or I’ll show you what else this mop can do. Leave this school now and don’t you dare come back until you’re ready to enroll!”
“But I may need to…”
“Do not contradict me, Lower Life-form! I ban you from this school for the next twenty-seven thousand years!”
“What do I do with this?” I asked holding out the shirt full of paste.
“Take it with you, you ignorant slug. Don’t waste it! That’s first quality paste – no hot house tomatoes mind you.”
“I’m sure,” I said defensively, though I had no idea what a hot house was. “I’ll just be leaving now.” I started backing away, leaving little blobs of tomato paste leaking through the shirt and onto the floor.
The man grabbed his mop of glory and blasted the paste off the floor, then he reached for Mage-e-not’s shirt. “Give me that thing,” he muttered more articulately than any mutter could conceivably be. He took the shirt in one hand, and miraculously, the paste did not slip from, or seep through the cloth. He reached behind him and pulled from his back pocket a silver object. He snapped the object in his hand, and behold, it formed into a shining bag in which the man stuffed the shirt and paste. He handed me the magical bag.
“Now git!” he growled impressively.
As I ran, I heard him shout behind me, “You aren’t the one that left that pile of dirt in my entryway, are you?”
I ran faster.
Mage-e-not was not nearly as pleased with his tomato paste as he could have been and wasn’t at all concerned that I risked the wrath of the celestial school custodian. Maybe I can’t blame him entirely. The tomato paste did nothing to improve the state or the appearance of his shirt.
Ono was much more enthusiastic when she came back from her shower. She said that the paste would be great on algae bars, and asked if she could have the magical bag when the paste was gone.
Of course, I nodded dumbly and rushed off to find a stream to make her algae bars.
In a more sober moment of reflection I realized that infatuation is a lot like slavery. I wondered why we like it so much.
But I did like it, so that was all there was to it. If she commanded me, I would face a dozen celestial custodians armed with twice as many mops of glory.
No, I don’t recall ever claiming to be smart.
It was only later that I remembered the cigars I had left behind on my first trip. They weren’t lying there next to the spout where I had left them. Had there been a bulge in the bib pocket of the custodian’s glorious overalls?

He was welcome to them. I just wish I had asked him for matches.

Today's video is embedded on a web page.  Just like the school of amazing stuff, it shows you how to do something cool.  Origami Darth Vader

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Feline Part Two

Feline Part Two
by Stanley McFarland
Not Bovine
Not Porcine
But Feline
salt mine
life line
cloud nine
high sign
phone line

Though it's unrelated, one of my favorite eps of the Beverly Hillbillies was on this morning with a wonderful appearance by Alan Napier (Alfred from the 60s series of Batman.)  He's about 18 minutes in.

Friday, April 22, 2016

Dirk Destroyer Part 30 Chapter 14 Part 1

I’m not saying every word in this novella is essential (I don’t have enough fire insurance on my pants to do that,) but if you’re just joining the story here with part 30, a couple of sentences isn’t going to catch you up.
Well, let’s try.
Elmer – really old guy that is still young – in love with Ono, a young woman who is (less surprisingly,) young.
School of Amazing stuff – A place Elmer and his smart ass brother go to learn useful stuff like repelling dirt from clothing and going back in time.
That’s it – you’re on your own.
Chapter 14
In Search of Sustenance
Wow! Who’s That Guy?

For some reason, though I could access the dial of second chances from any given remote location, I could not just concentrate and turn the knob of smoked sausage. Maybe it was because the sausages would only appear in the school cafeteria, and not out in my world, where a careless hand might flood all of Two in delicious smoked meat and meat byproducts pressed into natural intestine integuments.
If I was going to obtain the sausages I sought, I would need to go back to the school.
I had a sense of misgiving along with that sensation of going underwater as I re-entered the school of amazing stuff. Dirk had warned me the danger of turning any knob or dial that I didn’t understand and in my recklessness I had tried to turn many in my search for a second chance.
I didn’t have that urgency or willingness to be reckless now. Sure, Mage-e-not was hungry, and I wanted to do him a favor, but he could get by on algae bars if he had to. His preference for food that was palatable wasn’t as important to me as my second chance with Ono.
Did the karmic principal of the school of amazing stuff grade your intentions along with your actions? Did I risk something worse than a failing grade on my cosmic report card?
But Dirk’s warning had been about fiddling with levers, knobs, and dials that I didn’t know. I knew the dial I was going to turn, and I knew what it did. It created delicious little smoked sausages that I could pack up and take with me. Nothing bad could happen.
Could it?
I looked in my hands to confirm that Mage-e-not’s shirt came with me. It was a pathetic garment, and none too clean after so many hours of dirt slinging. I used my abilities to remove the dirt from the shirt. It left a little pile of dirt on the floor. I considered picking up the dirt and putting it in my pocket, but how could a little dirt cause any harm?
Some of the notices had changed on the school bulletin board, most remained the same – not surprising as I’d just been there the day before. I made my way to the cafeteria.
The stack of lunch trays was higher, and the pots were hanging from their hooks instead of soaking in the sink. I wondered if some cosmic cafeteria worker had been reprimanded.
The dial looked just as it had before – unlabeled, over a spout, with an unmovable bucket underneath. I tied Mage-e-not’s sleeves in knots and stretched out his shirt under the spout. Then I realized that I didn’t have any hands left to turn the dial.
Was there a lever, knob, or dial that would give me a third arm? If there was, would I want one? It might be handy… I wished hadn’t thought that thought. Puns – even unintentional and only in inner monolog are never in good taste. And then there are the cosmic implications of thinking in bad taste in a supernatural food preparation facility.
I gave up on the idea of obtaining a third arm. It would make shirts hard to find anyway. I just leaned over and nudged the dial over with my nose.
Sploootch. Red viscous fluid oozed from the spout and gathered into the warp and woof for Mage-e-not’s shirt. It was too solid for blood. What was it? It smelled tomato-like.
“Yuck!” I said to the pots and pans around me, as the full-bodied goo filled Mage-e-not’s shirt and slid onto the floor. “What is this stuff?”
“Tomato paste!” said a voice behind me. It was a powerful voice, so real and vibrant that it made me feel like I was made out cob-webs. “Turn off that dial, you dim-witted embryo.”
I turned, allowing more paste to ooze to the floor and beheld a man shining like the sun. His eyes were too bright to look at, but his overalls were the apotheosis, the perfect hope and aspiration of which any set of overalls might dream.
I can’t even begin to describe his boots.

That wasn’t so confusing, was it? (why is my Hagar expando-waist band smoking under my belt?)

So if you care to know more about this glorious man in overalls and indescribable boots, you’ll have to tune in(or surf, or click, or mousify) next Friday, for the conclusion of chapter 14.

And now this:

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Feline Part One

by Stanley McFarland
Not Equine
Or Canine
gold mine