Someday Girl

someday (adv.)

“at some indefinite date in the future,” 1768, from some + day.

MISS SOMEDAY.

Poor Charley wooed, but wooed in vain,

From Monday until Sunday;

Still Cupid whisper’d to the swain

“You’ll conquer Betsey Someday.”

[“The Port Folio,” June 1816]

*Hello, Clicky… /lights up… That’s a good quality vid… /drags… Who uploaded it?*

MadFranko008 posts Blondie Sunday Girl on YT

*Figures… /rolls eyes…*

Good afternoon, Dear Reader. Yesterday I received a care package from my friends Legs and Poppy. Fortunately, I knew it was coming…

Leggy tweets Roob about a mystery gift

So one parcel, Dear Reader, containing three items, one of which was a mystery thing, and two were signed. Let’s look at each in order…

Samuel’s Girl

I’d recently given a copy of ‘Six in Five in Four‘ to my IT Director at work. For his holiday; he was going sailing for a week, and so in desperate need of a collection of short stories, for dipping into when not doing important things with ropes and sails…

Roob tells Leggy about Nick

Samuel's Girl Signed To Nick

*/puffs… Kit Kat does take nice photos with his phone, Clicky…*

Mad Men

Mad Men Expanded

Although Poppy’s DVD gift was not a mystery, Dear Reader, it did have an element of surprise…

Mad Men in Danish

*/flicks ASH… Utter madness, Clicky… /drags… Still the play’s the…*

Mystery Thing

The third item in the care package was indeed signed, Dear Reader, but it wasn’t a book…

Hi Ruth

Final got this posted! The book and DVD are in the bottom of the box. On top is something I had no idea what to do with, so I thought “I know, I’ll lumber Ruth with it.” So here it is 😀

Six in Five in Four Original Artwork Signed

Do with it as you will, it probably burns well 😉

Kevin

Leggy had sent me his original artwork for the cover of ‘Six in Five in Four’! On the reverse, written faintly in pencil, were the names of all six Anthology authors, alongside their alchemy symbol. Thing Two, a.k.a. Kit Kat, was most intrigued by this; he even took a copy of the book away to read…

snoopy faint

*I know! …/stubs butt… That’s all it fucking took to get him interested, Clicky…*

Leggy tells Roob to go hang

I’ve hung Leggy’s book cover artwork in pride of place, Dear Reader, above the place where I lay down… my head to sleep… perchance to dream…

Bedroom Wall

Have a Song ❤

 

Missive From ‘Merica: With ADDED WOO

Been on a bit of cultural exchange these past two weeks, Dear Reader…

Adventure Time

*Indeed, Clicky! …/pats snout…*

… Whereby I’ve been introducing The Okie Devil of Text Us to Doctor Who

*It’s been an Utter joy, Clicky, bouncing around time and space with Cade… /lights up… Seeing things anew…*

… And in return, he has introduced me to Doowdaed

*No shit! It’s called Deadwood?! …/rubs eyes… Actually, Clicky, that does makes more sense… /drags…*

… And we’ll continue with more of that later today…

*/coughs… I ain’t shown him that one yet! …/taps ash… Mind you… /smokes… touch and hearing in one clip, Clicky? Fucking clever!*

Woo Hoo

In the meantime, Cade has very kindly sent a missive for us all to enjoy, Dear Reader…

*******

 

giphy

Where have I been?

Where have YOU been is likely a more appropriate question.

I've been taking a break.

Getting my bikini figure into shape for Bikini Season.

Let’s remedy that.

^DJ Shredda – Chainsaw (The Crow Mix)^

Let’s come me come clean. I’ve been avoiding anything and everything on the web, except Twitter, and I’ve been doing that for the last few months. I don’t care what it is, I don’t want to see it, and I don’t want to hear it. Those “pokes from else and/or elsewhere” have gotten too numerous. My feet, legs and hips are cramping almost non-stop, and it fucking hurts.

So yeah...vacation. 

I keep thinking about some 16 year old girl shooting herself. Can’t get it out of my fucking head. That, and this goddamn anti-smoking bullshit. Oh, and I’m trying to write. So there’s that. I also keep swirling around swirls. That has led me to some interesting thoughts on “flat space(s)”, so I’m gonna ramble about some of that…

assuming it's A-O-fucking-K with you.
^Acid Fighter (DJ Crow Remix) – Soundgrabber^


So what’s up with you where you are? It’s snowing outside here. Gonna put my cold weather gear on in a bit, go outside, and make a video. I doubt very seriously that most fucks are going to believe that it’s snowing in North Texas in late April, but it is. Once I make the video, we’ll have proof, the case will be solved forever, and there will be no reason to argue about the truth of spring snow(s) in Texas. I’ll keep you posted on where you can view the video.

^DJ The Crow meets DJ Arne LII – The Speed (Überdruck Mix)^


Why in the fuck would anyone care if North Korea/South Korea reunified? You running low on shit to talk about? Running low on shit to worry about? East Germany and West Germany got back together.

Maybe if you fucks would stop thinking in terms of big and small, you could actually focus. Or at least, make some discernment(s) as to what focus is.

Which reminds me, I got to thinking about the nature of focus with respect to membranes, and it got me to thinking about what is required to stretch a something so thin, that it results in the reduction of mass in certain sectors of the stretched membrane in such a way as to detract/reduce scale. Meaning, the reduction in mass does not cause a fundamental change in anything except scale.

Shrinking. 

Basically, a chain of say…Oxygen atoms…have become so stretched, all while retaining their relational bonds, that some atoms begin to shrink in scale. Methinks we are stumbling into/onto some gravity/anti-gravity kinds of things here.

^Norman Bass – How U Like Bass? (Warp Brothers Club Mix)^

Thinking more in terms of contextual processes that are created for the purpose(s) of creating something that does not currently exist, there are certain things that we can accept as being, for the most part…normal. Like say, the creation of a house using wood, that starts with the chopping down of a tree, and is followed by the chopping down of more trees.

Pretty normal sounding right? 

Welp, what about slamming sub-atom particles together at near the speed of light using the machines that we build in order to achieve this? Is that normal? Or can we consider it “normal” to qualify these activities as…abnormal.

Q: Is “sawdust” considered waste?

A: ???

Do we have processes in place to adequately deal with the ongoing sawdust issue(s)? Have we taken steps? Addressed concerns? Is the matter settled?

^Crash Bass – Hardshake^

Let’s focus

Focus (Optics)

Let’s get more focused

   Focus

We on the same page?

Let us turn it
^Gary Beck – Say What (Adam Beyer Remix) [SAVED RECORDS]^

I wonder how many membranes are breached in order to perform an “average” surgery.

Fascia
Fibromyalgia
Crystal Habit (Redirected from Fiberous habit)
Fiber
Dietary Fiber
Biodegradable Waste
Tortuous
Tortuosity
Tortious Interference
Tortuosamine
What Is a Tortuous Artery?
Twisted Blood Vessels: Symptoms, Etiology and Biomechanical Mechanisms

So can we assume that there is a difference between a perforation and a cut/incision? What about a stretch or strain? Wouldn’t an incision by a laser be both a perforation and a cut? No to mention the burn(ing).

^Hanayo – Joe le Taxi^


It’s just passed noon on Saturday April 28, and I’ve not been sleeping well. I’ve been dreaming non-stop for months now, but I guess its the season change that is currently fucking me up. I went on a 5 day drinking bender last week, and it did me some good. But still not sleeping very well. Guess I’m sweating heading to Austin a bit. Leaving for Austin soon, and looking forward to it, but also kinda nervous. The dynamics of the trip have suddenly changed. I’ll survive it tho. May even have some fun.

/me shrugs

On the up side, I’ve got the fever to write.

On the down side, I’m gonna be without my computer for a while.

I guess it's time to break out the pen and paper.

OH! I’ve got three stories in the new Underdog Anthology which was published this last week.

UAV front cover all named

I guess I need to write a post on it on my own goddamn blog.

^M83 ‘Midnight City’ Official video^


Got to thinking about the referential dynamics of gene sequences the other day, and the numbers went from “ridiculous” to “incomprehensible” almost immediately.

Picture This: two identical strands of DNA. One of these strands is located in the heart, and the other is flowing within the bloodstream. Now, imagine these two strands in relation to one another. Now think about the sequence in each strand. Do the sequences remain constant? What about in relation to each other?

I mean, we are talking more about cryptography/cryptology than we are about relationships or gene sequences/gene sequencing, so what about discretion, distinction and/or discrimination? Is there potentially some magic in the spacial relationships and orientations of identical things? What about like things? Similar not same kinds of things?

Cryptography
Discernment
Discernment of Spirits
Discrimination

So yeah, if you get two identical things together, what are they now?

Spooky action at a distance?

Or does the action always and forever need to follow a predefined path?

^Boy Harsher — Pain^

Was talking to a certain someone this week about “GUT”, and espoused that this particular pursuit is going to have to include multiple elements, and that the omission of a simultaneous “constructive/destructive” is likely why these efforts to construct a unification continues to fail and/or be elusive.

Grand Unified Theory

Whatever this “GUT” winds up being will have to have contextual nature, and I added Earth/Terra and Sun/Sol distinctions.

EX: The GUT on Earth/Terra will not be applicable on Mars, and the GUT on The Sun/Sol will differ from the GUT on Earth/Terra. We are in motion, and the only constant state appears to be that of “change” and/or “changing”, depending on where you are and when.

Perspective(s).

So yeah, there is likely a metric shitload of fucktons of galactic considerations that also need to be made. Maybe The Zodiac ain’t such a stretch afterall, eh? I mean, if these distant gamma ray bursts are suddenly of global concern because we can now see/detect them, that means that they’ve always been a concern. So I got a question for you…

Q: What’s your fucking hurry?

A: ¿?¿

Maybe if you fucks weren’t so goddamn wrapped up in the fatalistic ends of the more modern interpretations Darwinian theory/theories, you wouldn’t be so fucking anxious to win your very own Darwin Award, and take the rest of us with you in the process.

^Kiesza – Hideaway (Official Video)^

Yes, I am suggesting that certain sectors of science seem to be pretty goddamn fatalistic. I mean fuck, we can get that fatalism bullshit from religion. We don’t need it from you too.

But you’re free to do what you want.

Blow it all up.

😐
^Azari & III – Hungry for the power (Jamie Jones remix)^

 My brain hurts.

Imma go get something to eat, then video the snow for anyone who wants to see it.

^’I FINK U FREEKY’ by DIE ANTWOORD (Official)^

cYacFa

^Hey Boy Hey Girl (Soulwax ‘2 Many DJ’s’ Remix)^

*******

Feeding time

*Yeah, I’m hungry too, Clicky… /stubs butt… Let’s get sumfin to eat…*

Dear Reader? CYL… 😉 …and have a Song ❤

137: Pointlessly Exercised

Seams, Dear Reader, that the Dez Rez Prez of Trump Town is to pay a visit to Old Blighty on 137

*Cool vid… /lights up… Hey, Clicky, didn’t I see sumfin ’bout spoons earlier? …/drags…*

*Sounds like a good idea… /exhales smoke… Butt it DON’t say ‘working visits’…/coughs… He probably DON’t have to go through those detector thingies anyway… /taps ash…*

*Heh! …/reflects on curling smoke… You know, I used to go out with a Gareth Jones, Clicky… /drags… 1985… Year of Five Boyfriends… /streams smoke… He came from Wales…*

Kit Chien Sink

*Oh fuck yeah! …/grins… He gave me a loving spoon… /slurps cherry Coke… Still got it, overlooking the Kit Chien sync…*

… Sew, I was chatting to my friend and Welsh Dragon publisher, Leggy, about the visit last night on Twitter…

Roob and Legs convo 1

*Flashback eh, Clicky? …/drags…*

Merovee selfie 090315 Roob telling Vik Roof was robbed

*…/blows smoke… The burglars were much tidier than the car thieves… /flicks ASH…*

 

Roob and Legs convo 2Roob and Legs convo 3Roob and Legs convo 4

*/shakes head… Funny how he’s all up for exercising ‘free speech’ when it comes to stuff… /final drag… he don’t like himself… /expels smoke…*

Roob and Legs convo 5Roob and Legs convo 6

*/stubs butt… If the mercury’s rising, Clicky… /rolls eyes…*

UAV About Roob page Mercury Rising

*Ah! …/beams… Nice way to promote Underdog Anthology V, Clicky… /pats snout…*

Dear Reader… Have a Song 😉

 

 

 

Crossing the Date Line

*Coming out of what, Clicky? …/lights up rollie and drags…*

UAV front and back cover

*/puffs contentedly…*

At last, Dear Reader, the Underdog Anthology V is published

*Knot a graphic novel, Clicky… /streams smoke… Short stories, many authors…*

… I’d been speculating with Leggy late on Friday as to the date it might appear…

Legy and Roob talk UAV and dates 1

… The first ‘event’ listed in the Wiki link – ‘The Year of SIX Emperors’…

LONE-STAR-1

*Five pointed star! I was thinking of The Okie Devil of Textus… /flicks ash… Cade’s got stories in the book. I didn’t even think of that, Clicky… /pats snout… What did I list next?*

Legy and Roob talk UAV and dates 2

*/drags… 19 Four-Tees… /blows smoke ring… Nineteen stories…*

*Three? …/squints… Sew, inadvertently, Leggy and I counted down six, five, four three… /final drag…*

Legy and Roob talk UAV and dates 3

*2, 1… /stubs butt… Hey, how about that ‘wolf trap‘, Clicky?*

Legy and Roob talk UAV and dates 4

 

Strangely enough, Dear Reader, if you go check out UAV’s listing on Amazon – and I suggest you doo 😉 – it’s published date is 20th April

facepalm

*Oh I dunno, Clicky… /lights up… 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0… /grins…*

Have a Song 😉

Who Noob Tales: Nine Lives… No, Really

I am having a long weekend, Dear Reader. I spent yesterday daytime making final edits to stories in the soon-to-be-published ‘Underdog Anthology V: Six in Five in Four’. Leggy has a preview, in which he includes one of his stories from the book…

Old Peculier on the neighbours cat

*/grins… How peculiar, Clicky… /lights up…*

peculiar (adj.)

mid-15c., “belonging exclusively to one person,” from Latin peculiaris “of one’s own (property),” from peculium “private property,” literally “property in cattle” (in ancient times the most important form of property), from pecu “cattle, flock,” related to pecus “cattle” (see pecuniary). Meaning “unusual” is first attested c. 1600 (earlier “distinguished, special,” 1580s; for sense development, compare idiom). Related: Peculiarly.

wiki peculier

*’Also KT and KH’…/drags… No shit! …/streams smoke… *

Then last night Cade and I resumed his introduction to Doctor Who, and also caught up with Leggy and Poppy… Les amis…

Poppy and Roob discuss Cades Who Introductory Course 1

Poppy and Roob discuss Cades Who Introductory Course 2Poppy and Roob discuss Cades Who Introductory Course 3Poppy and Roob discuss Cades Who Introductory Course 4

rare doctor who hand flap

*/flicks ash… Knot a favourite episode, Clicky… /drags… although, excellent use of a jammie dodger… /blows smoke rings… I’d forgotten about that…*

Poppy and Roob discuss Cades Who Introductory Course 5

Poppy and Roob discuss Cades Who Introductory Course 6Poppy and Roob discuss Cades Who Introductory Course 7

*Like the villain, House, in The Doctor’s Wife, Clicky, Daleks are a bit like a sea anemone… /puffs… “hard on the outside, squishy on the inside”… I hadn’t made that connection before… /taps teeth…*

Anyhoo, in honour of Old Peculier’s neighbour’s cat, Dear Reader, and seeing as a ‘cat‘ won today’s Grand National, I thought I’d take a leaf out of Leggy’s book – pun intended – and post one of my stories from UAV. It’s short and called ‘Nine Lives’. The Knot-Sew confidential making of it can be found here. Enjoy!

*******

NINE LIVES

Karl sat at his kitchen table, smoking and observing the tendrils of early morning mist gently tickle the tops of the garden hedge, before continuing their soft creep to the ground. It was dark outside but the lawn glittered with stars; pregnant dew drops nestling in the grass caught the thin, amber light that spilled from the kitchen window. He stubbed out his cigarette and gulped back the last dregs of cold tea from his mug with a grimace. Not long now, Karl thought, she’ll be home soon. Outside the mist started to swirl and pool.

He stood up and stretched, bones creaking and knees popping as if to salute the end of his vigil. He fleetingly considered that he was getting too old for this malarkey, but she needed a watcher – someone to light the way back. He could bear the discomfort; it was only for the night. Karl rubbed his eyes under his glasses, and dragged his hands down over bristled cheeks to wipe any tiredness away. He contemplated putting the kettle on when he heard the first high pitched bark puncturing the dark. The second got him moving. “Not the foxes again!”

As he opened the back door, the wet slap of morning air to hit Karl’s face was accompanied by a rude crash and skitter of a dustbin lid falling, somewhere in the mist. She’s coming from the right, he thought, opening the door wider to peer out into the murk. More barks, louder this time, and a fiery hiss, were followed by the sound of clambered wood, as the garden fence shook violently. Karl held the door further ajar, and a white streak shot out of the mist and between his legs, into the kitchen.

Karl closed the door on the mist and the foxes who, by the sound of it, were now rummaging through next door’s bin for tasty scraps. He turned to the slight figure, lying on the kitchen floor. “For goodness sake, Lara, do you have to tease the foxes? It upsets the neighbours.”

“It upsets the bins,” Lara replied, lightly panting as she rolled over and attempted to sit up. “No, they were waiting for me. Foxes are not called cunning for nothing, Karl.”

“Yes, but they usually leave you alone when you’re hedge riding.”

Lara sighed. “It would seem witches aren’t held in much esteem these days. Not by people or wildlife.”

Karl surveyed the flush in his wife’s cheeks and her glittering eyes, and thought she still looked pretty formidable considering her advanced years. He also noticed the shudder in her arm propping her up. “You should get off the floor. What would you like, sofa or chair?” he asked, scooping her up, with barely a tremble from his own geriatric limbs.

“Sofa,” Lara replied with a wan smile. “Thank you, dear. And a cuppa and a ciggie wouldn’t go amiss either.”

“Funnily enough, I was just about to put the kettle on,” Karl replied, before lowering his wife, so she could reach out and pluck the cigarette packet and lighter from the kitchen table. A fat bead of blood splashed onto the surface below, quickly followed by another. “You’re injured?”

“Damn foxes.” Lara winced and drew her arm back toward her chest. “One of them managed to get a mouthful of armpit. I don’t think it’s too deep. Just stings a bit.”

“But you’re bleeding,” Karl said gruffly. Too gruffly, he feared, from the look his wife shot him. “Okay, let’s get you comfortable and then I can clean that up,” he continued in a more conciliatory tone, before carrying her through to the front room.

Karl noticed that Lara was already on her second cigarette when he returned five minutes later, to set out a bowl of hot water, soap, flannel and towel on the carpet before her. “Kettle’s on for tea,” he said kneeling down. He adjusted his glasses and gingerly started to lift Lara’s elbow. “Can’t let it get infected, how would we explain that to Dr Patel?”

“I can always change back so you can take me to a vet,” Lara replied sharply, pulling away from his grasp.

She must be in great pain, Karl thought. “Come now, dear, we don’t have pet insurance. We don’t own a pet.” Lara’s eyes briefly flashed at his riposte, but her body relaxed and she allowed him to lift her arm. “So apart from getting into a fight with some foxes…”

“Ambushed by some foxes,” Lara quickly corrected him.

“Sorry, ambushed by some foxes on the way home, how was the rest of your night?”

Lara took a deep drag from her cigarette. “Well it started off okay,” she said, billowing a great cloud of smoke. “I went to see Annie and girls down at Saint Michael’s.”

“And how are Annie and the girls?” Karl asked as he cleaned her wound of blood.

“Dead.”

“Naturally.” Any bleeding seemed to have stopped, but the swelling around the punctures had already started to bruise, turning an angry black mauve that only truly flourished on elderly skin. Karl stopped himself flinching at the sight. “You’d think they’d get themselves a spirit cat.”

“They’ve got a spirit cat,” Lara gently rebuked him with a chuckle.

“A ghost cat, then.” Karl smiled at her mirth. “You know what I mean.”

“Oh a ghost cat would be just as stuck as they are. Graveyards are lonely places, Karl. The residents like the company and the gossip. Especially the newly interred. Once the funeral is over, they rarely get more than a yearly visit from any family. If that.” Lara finished her cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray perched on the arm of the sofa. “How’s it looking?”

“Ugly but clean. It’ll need some arnica,” Karl replied, rising carefully to his feet. “That’s in the kitchen. Besides, the kettle must have boiled by now. No, no. You stay there. I’ll go.”

Lara laughed and shooed him away with her good arm before reaching for the cigarettes and lighter.

Karl could hear swearing from outside the back door; Jim must be up and found the aftermath of the fox fracas. Karl popped the kettle on and grabbed the arnica and some aspirin from the medicine cupboard, chuckling at the string of expletives emanating from over the garden fence. He glanced out the window to see that sunrise was already burning off the mist that had been so thick an hour or so ago. It looked like it could be a lovely day.

The sound of the front doorbell caught him off guard. Who would be calling at this hour? Karl wondered and went to open the front door. Through the frosted glass he could make out the shape of a woman in a bright pink dressing gown. What could she want? Karl thought as he unlocked and opened the door. “Morning Celia. Is everything alright?”

“Oh Karl,” his next door neighbour cried, her face puffy and contorted with distress. “Karl, I’m so sorry if I’ve woke you,” Celia started to apologise. “There was some trouble with foxes in our garden last night. I don’t know if you heard any of it.”

“No,” Karl lied. “But I heard Jim swearing earlier. Did they make much of a mess?”

Celia looked distraught at the suggestion. “Well yes, but…” she trailed off with a sob. “Karl, it’s Lara. I’m so sorry. They killed your cat.” Celia had not come empty handed; she held out a bundle, wrapped neatly in a towel, out in front of her.

Karl felt an icy chill bloom from the crown of his head and cascade down his body. “Thank you,” he said numbly, taking the bundle from Celia’s shaking hands.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Celia continued but Karl had already shut the front door. He felt the lightness of the bundle in his arms. It felt so slight.

“Lara?” Karl called as he carried it through to his wife, but the front room was empty. He laid the bundle on the sofa and sat down next to it. A spiral of smoke floated up from the ashtray perched on the arm. Karl turned and picked up the last of the burning cigarette and with trembling fingers, finished his smoke.

*******

I’m off now to introduce Cade to Thoughtful Man’s favourite companion, Dear Reader…

Clara

*/winks…*

Have a Song ❤

Five Alive? Defo!

*Ah cool image, Clicky… /pat snout… Actually my hair hasn’t looked like that once this week… /lights up…*

Dear Reader, I have been on holiday these last couple of days, and have finally managed to write my short story about a hedge riding hag

feather powered happiness

*I am pretty happy with the result, Clicky…/puffs…*

…and have submitted it to Leggy for inclusion in the upcoming ‘Underdog Anthology V‘. The story is called ‘Nine Lives’…

*I’ve still got time to mutilate a poem for the Afterword before I go back to work, Clicky… /drags… If I can find the right one… /billows smoke…*

I was also able to spend some time yesterday in the Blue universe. Frank Davis had been snooping around New York, after reading about the proposed bill to stop people from smoking whilst walking the streets of that fair city

*They’re fucking unbelievable! …/flicks ash… First you can’t smoke inside, and now the utopian dreamers are trying to dictate where and how you can smoke outside… /deep drag… Nasty Not-sees indeed… /sighs…*

He was looking at street signs there and came across one that had him perplexed…

‘Just a few yards away was another really weird sign. I think it was some sort of aphorism. But I couldn’t make out what it said, because it seemed to be written in bleeding, dripping letters that said something like Afraid And Dead. I guess that if you were crossing 2nd Avenue and you stopped to try to figure out what the scary sign meant, you’d find out when you got hit by a truck.’

It puzzled me, too; however, the photo Frank included was somewhat fuzzy, so I sent Clicky off for a closer inspection…

sign for blue frank

*Much better but it still looks like worshipers or sumfin’ to me, Clicky… /drags deeply… In sinister black… /snorts smoke…*

… and find an answer.

school for deaf street sign new york

*Those are hands!*

hans gruber

*/reads slowly… School For Deaf …/squints… Dept of Transport… /final drag… Oh! The yellow buses! It’s a bus stop sign, Clicky! … /streams smoke…*

applause sign

*Alright, don’t take the piss… /stubs butt… Well done you, though, on working it out… There’s a good assistant… /pats snout…*

It was a sign for deaf school children, Dear Reader…

…As my good friend, Cade, might say…

‘MYSTERY SOLVED! NEXT!’

music sign

*Okay then…/lights up… And as you’re such a clever Clicky, you can choose…*

Dear Reader… Have a Song 😀

 

Breakfast Embed Part 2 – Sun E Sighed Up

Hello again Dear Reader. In case you’ve forgotten, my name is Mr. Slimey, you are indeed at The LoL, but RooBeeDoo and her assistant Clicky are currently…indisposed.

giphy2

*first doors, now windows. A flying carpet would not be out of place here /me taps foot and ponders…hmmm, when and where is a flying carpet “in-place”? /me wonders*

Actually, I’ve no clue whether Roob and Clicky are indisposed, outdisposed, or striking any other dis or dat pose(s). As far as I know, they are in the same place and places they’ve always been. But who really knows where that is? Who really knows what they are up to?

tumblr_nzqclolqvw1t63sglo1_540

*/me does double-take. At first glance, that window actually looks kinda…normal. But it it?*

We’ll continue to work on the pertinent and relevant as we proceed. But now, and for your continued reading enjoyment, may I present the next installment of RooBeeDoo’s… The Inchoate Egg.

*******

*No, the beginning is on the last post, Clicky… /lights up…*

Many thanks again, Cade, for the lovely intros and exits ❤

And now, Dear Reader, the story continues…

As it happened, I ended up arriving late for the County Business Awards at the Civic Centre. Very late as I’d overslept from the afternoon nap I’d taken, with the intention of being fresh for the evening ahead. Now I felt frazzled; I hate being late.

Despite the area outside the building being clearly designated ‘No Smoking’, there were a good number of glammed up people loitering by the entrance, taking a last puff, as if their lives depended on it.

I felt a hand lightly tap my shoulder and turned to see a vision in shimmering gold in the warm evening sunshine. “Harry! You’re late too. Thank goodness, I didn’t want to arrive on my own!”

Josie fair took my breath away, stood there lithe and tanned in a floor length gown that she appeared to have been poured into. Her thick black locks were piled high on her head, loose tendrils curled down, emphasising the slenderness of her throat and shoulders. And her make-up was as smooth and flawless as the skin tight dress she wore, emphasising her jaunty breasts, flat stomach and lean thighs.

“Whoa! Hi Josie, you look…” It’s difficult to keep the awe out of your voice when faced with utter perfection. Then another thought occurred to me: where’s Alfie? I scanned the road but couldn’t see his car.

“You scrub up nice!” I joked, trying to play it cool and prevent a drooling incident.

Josie giggled nervously, twirling girlishly. “Is it too much? I wasn’t sure, I haven’t been to one of these events before.”

I felt my jaw start to drop at the sight of the satin material clinging to her righteous arse cheeks. Jesus! She can’t be wearing any underwear!

An appreciable number of smokers’ heads turned in our direction, although I could tell none of them were looking at me. “No, you look absolutely stunning. In fact if we win tonight, you should definitely go up on stage to collect the award. It could get us on the front page of the local rag.”

She has no idea how gorgeous she is, I thought, as Josie blushed at my suggestion. I lightly grabbed her elbow, steering her toward the main entrance, unable – and unwilling – to remove the huge smile now plastered across my face. “Come on, we’re really late. We should go inside and find the others.”

More posh frocks and penguin suits milled about inside, quaffing champagne and munching canapés in between small talk. We made our way to the bar area, zeroing in on the sound of booming laughter. For once the Fat Kontroller was already in attendance; he usually liked to make an entrance, but from the ruddy colour of his cheeks I’d say he’d arrived a while ago.

“Harry! Over here!” the Fat Kontroller called out, beckoning us over. “You’re late.”

He was sat at the bar, flanked on one side by Simon and Katrina from our newest client, Clovis International, and on the other by Lol our friendly bank manager. Next to him was Shazza, showing far too much flesh in a low cut dress and braying like a donkey at an amusing anecdote being told by our final guest, who stood with his back to us. I hadn’t met the famous Zander Rhodes yet, but from the look of his slim hips, broad shoulders and slicked back hair, I could tell he was cut from the Alfie mould of manhood. Then I saw the wolfish look flash across Zander’s chiselled features, as he turned to see Josie sashaying toward him. My heart sank, only to be further compounded when I saw the look Josie gave him as hellos and introductions were made.

“Bad luck old girl,” Lol whispered in my ear as he kissed my cheek and squeezed my arse. “Good evening, Miss Egg. You’re looking radiant this evening.”

“Lol Williams, what have I told you about trying to grab my assets,” I replied with a smile, moving his hand up to my waist. “Honestly, you bankers…” I said with an exaggerated eye-roll, loud enough for the others to hear. It was a charade of course. I’d known Lol a lot longer than I’d worked at FAK. You could say we were kindred spirits and he was the only person I’d confided in over my longings for Josie, what really happened at Christmas and the loathing I felt for Shazza and her antics.

Lol laughed at my playful rebuke and quickly shifted his eyes in Shazza’s direction, urging me to look.

As unhappy as I was that Josie and Zander were hitting it off, Shazza looked positively crestfallen at the fizzing chemistry between the two best looking people in the place. She must have thought she was in with a chance with Zander. What a fucking pair of jokes we are, I thought, feeling a rare sense of camaraderie with the dope. It lasted all of a second as Shazza decided to open her mouth.

“Yeah, you look nice, Harry. Is that the same outfit you wore to the Christmas party? I thought that got ruined.”

“Oh no, what happened at the Christmas party?” Katrina asked innocently. She was a recent addition to the Clovis management team, so probably wasn’t aware of the gory details, just eager to join the conversation.

“A chocolate incident,” I replied smoothly, shooting a reassuring look in Josie’s direction. But she wasn’t listening, being totally absorbed in whatever Gaia-saving bollocks Zander, with his designer stubble was feeding her.

I downed the whisky proffered by the Fat Kontroller, who clapped me on the shoulder and stood up. “Right then boys and girls, now we’re all here, let’s get this party started.”

The main room set up with about 20 tables and was filling fast with the Great and the Good of the county’s business community. The level of chatter was high as we picked through the crowds to table four, positioned close to the stage. I decided I should take that as a good sign for award success but, to be honest, I was clutching at straws considering how the rest of my hopes for the evening were panning out.

Shazza had been busy in my absence as the place settings on the table were arranged boy/girl and she’d placed herself between the Fat Kontroller and Zander, with me opposite sandwiched between Lol and Simon. With Katrina sat between her colleague and the Fat Kontroller, Josie had been placed the other side Zander, and the suave environmentalist was availing himself of the opportunity to be as attentive as possible.

Lol gave my knee a reassuring squeeze under the table. “I’d offer to swap seats with you, Harry, but I don’t think you’d get a look in,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth.

“Don’t sweat it, love,” I reassured him, “I’m here to work. Here, have some some wine.” I poured him a large glass of Barolo before filling my own and grabbing a bottle of Chardonnay. “Simon? Katrina? Red or white?”

And so the evening progressed, through three passable mass catered courses, made more palatable by my excellent selection of wines. The Fat Kontroller and I worked on Simon and Katrina, the only actual clients at the table, whilst Lol tried his best to engage Zander and Josie in conversation. He was fairly successful too through his keen interest of in cycling and holidaying in Asia. Bless him, he’d even tried to include Shazza in their conversation with less success – she was finding the evening hard going, fidgeting in her seat, shifting from one conversation to the other, unable to contribute to either. She could drink though. Warily I watched her find solace in her wineglass, looking more and more miserable. I didn’t know whether to feel concern at what she was capable of after a skinful, or sheer delight at her self-imposed discomfort. But on the whole, I sided with delight – at least she wasn’t gobbing off.

Eventually the awards presentation began, starting with several dull but worthy eulogies of the strength and diversity of the county business community. We sat and clapped through numerous categories of award before they got to the one we were shortlisted for. I don’t mind admitting to a jolt of nerves as ‘Green Business of the Year’ was called out. My submission was F A Kontrell’s first attempt at winning any business gongs. Writing it up had been a doddle and success would mean more brownie points for me. As much as I liked my recent pay rise, I still preferred to earn it than get one for being merely non-litigious.

Under the table I felt Lol’s hand cover my own as I squeezed and scrunched the napkin on my lap. I lent across him toward Josie, “You’ll come up on stage won’t you, if we win?”

“Ooh can I come up too?” Shazza suddenly piped up, visibly brighting at the prospect of a bit of reflected glory. She turned to the Fat Kontroller, “If Harry and Josie are going up, can I go up too?” she squealed.

“Tush, Sharon, it’s not the Oscars,” he replied calmly, patting her on the arm. “And we haven’t won anything yet.”

It seemed to take an age for the presenter to read through all the names and for the nominees’ logos to appear on the screen behind him. You could cut the tension around our table with a knife.

“And the winner is…” He opened the envelope and pulled a card. “F A Kontrell!”

We erupted in a chorus of cheers and whoops. We’d only fucking won it!

With scraped back chairs, the four FAKkers got up to collect the award, receiving congratulatory hugs from the rest of our guests. Zander seized the opportunity to kiss Josie full on the mouth. She kissed him back. Slut! You’ve only just met him!

“Oi! Don’t smudge your lipstick,” Lol playfully chastised Josie, pulling her from Zander’s embrace.

I grabbed Josie’s hand and tugged sharply. “Come on! Let’s get you on the front page.”

Despite the huge quantity of alcohol he’d knocked back during the evening, the Fat Kontroller was steady and measured ascending the stairs, whereas Shazza was bouncing around like a demented yoyo. Josie and I joined them under the bright spotlights, standing behind our Glorious Leader while he made his acceptance speech. We posed with our trophy for the official photographer with beaming smiles, arms wrapped around each other’s backs. I could feel Josie’s right boob pressed up against me, my hand lightly resting alongside her satin covered left. This is probably the closest I’ll ever get to touching her tits, I lamented whilst we all shouted “Cheese!” at the camera.

Lol had procured a bottle of Bollinger and was already pouring it out by the time we returned to our table. “A toast to F A Kontrell,” he said, handing me a bubbling champagne flute. “And to Miss Egg and her award submission writing prowess!”

“Oh give over, Lol,” I said punching his arm, but loving his efforts to big me up. “It was a team effort,” I stated magnanimously.

“Oh no, Harry,” Shazza said slyly, handing me the trophy we’d just collected. “You definitely deserve this!”

It might have been the nervous anticipation or the excitement of winning, but I hadn’t fully appreciated the trophy’s shape until that moment. It was a heavy, crystal egg on a pedestal base. “Because it’s the shape of my name?” I asked.

“No,” Shazza hooted maliciously. “For your enormous butt plug collection!!”

Jesus fuck! What the hell?!

Undeterred by lack of laughter from the rest of us, Shazza cackled wildly and dug in. “You know, to go with one you got for Chrissmass!” she said oblivious to the shocked faces around the table.

Josie pulled away from Zander and stood up. “Sharon! Take that back,” she reprimanded her.

“An’ you can shut up, you snobby bitch! Or will Alfie beat me up, too?” Shazza sneered. A red flush crept from her chest, up her neck and flooding her contorted face. She pawed at Zander’s sleeve, “You know her boyfrien’ beat ‘arry up, doncha? Thought she was trying it on and tried to drown her in chocolate. Didn’t kishy prisshy pants tell you?”

“Sharon! It’s time you went home. I’ll call you a taxi,” the Fat Kontroller said, placing an arm around her shoulders to shepherd her away from the table.

“And get your hands off me!” Shazza shouted angrily, squirming out from the Fat Kontroller’s, causing a bout of rubber-necking from the surrounding tables. “I’ll do you! I’ll tell HR!”

Josie pulled herself upright. She looked magnificent, eyes glittering with righteous fury. “I am HR, Shazza! Duly noted. Now go home, you’re drunk!”

Shazza suddenly looked confused at the turn of events. The room had descending in silence at her outburst. Even the presenter had stopped speaking and was peering down at our table. Talk about snatching defeat in the face of victory!

“Oh Mishter K, I’m sorry…” Shazza slurred, allowing him to lead her away but the drunken cow wasn’t quite done. “Call me!” she sloshed back at Zander. Fat chance, you never pick up the fucking phone!

Zander shifted away from Josie, “You have a boyfriend?”

“Oh, um, I…” Josie faltered, losing her composure.

“Harry dear, what was all that about?” Katrina asked open mouthed. “Was that about the chocolate incident?”

“Erm,” I hesitated, “There was a misunderstanding with a chocolate fountain someone had bought Josie for Christmas.”

“You have a boyfriend and a fountain of chocolate?” Zander accused Josie indignantly. “Do you have any idea of the environmental devastation wrought by intense cocoa farming in West Africa?”

“Katrina. Simon. I am so sorry for the upset,” I apologised, refilling their glasses. I slumped back in my seat and drained my Champagne flute. “Oh god! What a fucking disaster,” I said under my breath.

“Don’t sweat it, love,” Lol said laughing and gave me a hug. “Just look at this way, Harry, not only did you win an award tonight but it looks like you might be getting shot of Shazza at last.”

“Heh,” I scoffed sceptically and looked over at the perceptible rift opening up between a suspicious looking Zander and Josie, guiltily gnawing at her bottom lip with pearly white teeth. Yeah, I conceded, things could have turned out a whole lot worse.

*******

There may or may not be a Part 3 Dear Reader. I don’t yet know, as I’m only writing the top and bottom portions, and RooBeeDoo is filling in the middle bits + doing any formatting/making any all decisions. A tough job I’m sure.

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*can we effectively operate without knowing the particulars of what others are doing and/or might be doing? Or does the veil need…some assistance?*

I guess we’ll know, when and if we know. If not, we’ll know. Don’t worry…I’m not eggzactly sure what that means either.

Queue song. 😉

*******

Shithead Jen

*Snot shit… /facepalms… The quote is, “It’s not shit”, Clicky… /rolls eyes… Couldn’t find a slightly long gif? …/stubs butt…*

Clicky and I decided we couldn’t not include an, um, Epi-chocolate-logue to end, Dear Reader…

fire screen

*Fanks, Clicky… /pats snout…*

The elevator journey up to the office the next morning was interminably long and extra bumpy, rattling my brains and turning my stomach. Shazza wasn’t manning reception but that was nothing new. I strolled round to my desk clutching our trophy in one hand and my head in the other. The Fat Kontroller was waiting for me, looking as fresh as a daisy. How does he do it?

“Good morning, Harry. We made the press,” he said handing me a copy of the local paper. “Front page.”

I placed the trophy on my desk and sat down, spreading the newspaper out and tried to focus. Josie had indeed made the front page, but so had Shazza – the awards photographer had captured the commotion. He’d even managed to capture the line of spittle streaming from Shazza’s spiteful mouth.

I read out the headline, “’Fracas at Local Business Awards. What a FAK Up!’. Oh bollocks!”

“You’ll be able to sort won’t you, Harry,” the Fat Kontroller said, picking up the trophy and polished it with his sleeve. “There’s a Good Egg.”

Happy Easter, Dear Reader. And don’t forget to stuff your faces with as much chocolate as you can because, next year… who know?

Have a Song 😀