Story Time: A Goohuul

If you found our first Halloween offering quite tricky, Dear Reader, this next story is something of a treat. It’s by my good friend, Cade the Okie Devil from Text US, and appears in ‘Underdog Anthology VI: The Gallows Stone’…

pumpkin treat

*Faught you’d perk up for that, Clicky… /flicks ash…*

Dear Reader… Enjoy! ❤

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A Goohuul

by Cade F.O.N Apollyon

Yarnip County Texas is likely the strangest county in the entire state. It appears on no maps. It does not appear on nor in any registry. There is no county-seat, as there are no towns. It has no courthouses. No sheriff. No police departments. No fire departments. No hospitals nor clinics. In fact, except for the ice-skating rink in the southeast corner of the county that sometimes doubles as a roller-rink, Yarnip County Texas has no real infrastructure to speak of at all. There are plenty of roads that lead to and through Yarnip County, but not a single crossroads in it’s length and breadth. There is only one permanent resident, and yet, at certain times of the year…Yarnip County Texas has the largest population in the entire Universe.

I know, I know…you are thinking that I’m telling some tall-tale in order to spin some investment opportunity or encourage tourism. But if you take a minute to actually ponder the merits of your own skepticism, why would I even need to encourage tourism to a location that is already, at times, the most populous place in the entire Universe? Yes, I am the guy that actually lives there. But I’ve already got so much money I could never spend it, and I’ve also got so many trinkets and gifts from visitors, that were I to sell them all, I’d pretty much have all the money on the entire planet. Plus, I don’t sell any of the gifts that are given me, nor do I sell any of the trinkets that I find. And believe you me, with all the traffic we get here, there is plenty of stuff left behind.

So you are likely wondering if I am a junk collector who is trying to sell off his collection. No. I’m the owner/operator of an ice-skating rink that sometimes doubles as a roller-rink. Junk collecting is more of a hobby that doubles as my attempt at being a responsible citizen due to the amount of flotsam and jetsam that this county accumulates during the course of the year.

Let me give you an example of what I am talking about. If someone passes through on a weekend trip, and accidentally leaves their Blarrchuck Moopeen Grinder, or a pair of Mastelline Vipps? They are going to come looking for it/them. I once found the entire Senate Building for The Realm of Cipotci, but I wasn’t aware of it at the time. I took it home, put it on my dresser, and even contemplated cutting a hole in the top to use as a change bank, although I never did. Good thing that I didn’t, because the Ipo of Cipotsi herself came looking for the building, and it turns out that the entire Senate was actually still inside the building and in-session. Just a misunderstanding that quasi-cascaded into a comedy of errors because of some chance encounters. The Ipo was very gracious though in the end, and she’s now aware of both me and the fact that I lurk and roam these parts with mostly the best of intentions. That said, the particulars about how the Senate Building from The Realm of Cipotsi wound up in Yarnip County Texas is a story for another time.

You’ve likely guessed by now that I am the founder of Yarnip County Texas. Well, technically, you’d be wrong. I only gave it the name. Yarnip County Texas is actually as old as The Universe itself, and I’m just a newcomer that just so happened to be paying attention at just the wrong time, in exactly the wrong place. But those unfortunate events inspired me to eventually give my home a name, Yarnip County. I even gave it a slogan; “Always Passin’ Thru!” But I’m not really here to talk about that, nor even about myself, as much as I am to talk about one particular event that happened about ten years ago. It’s something that is on my mind daily, and I try diligently to neither suppress nor recall that and those events. For the most part, I just sorta try and let the memories be what they are, and go on about my life as best I can.

She introduced herself as Abbey Attrix. I was pretty sure from the start that this was not her “real” name, but it didn’t really matter to me one way or the other. She told me that she had some friends that were meeting her here in a few hours, and wanted to know if she could rent the rink and skate alone until they arrived. I asked her for how long, she glanced at what I assumed was her watch, and told me that she could pay me $50 and would also let me have her watch if I would let her have the rink for two hours. She held up her arm, and around her wrist was one of the most unusual watches I’d ever seen. It had only one hand, a minute hand, and two digital readouts; one for the hours, and one for the seconds. It had a deep red face that seemed to be surrounded by some kind of internal light source that was a combination of blue and red that cycled somehow…it appeared very expensive.

Let me state that it’s not unusual to have individuals show up alone and want to rent the rink for themselves, nor do I personally think that it’s particularly strange when someone wants to rent the rink alone. Afterall, I built the rink for myself so that I could be alone and skate alone, so it’s really no surprise to me that others also seek solitude on the ice. However, when I looked into her face and into her eyes, I perceived there was a distance between us that I could never plumb. I could make all of the observations and conjectures that I wanted, but time itself seemed to be slipping away before me, and I could tell by her occasional glances out toward the rink that she just wanted to get onto the ice. She’d been running from something, but that running was about to cease.

I told her that she could keep her watch, and that $40 would do for two hours as I had nothing scheduled and was unlikely to have any chance renters pop in other than herself. She agreed, retrieved two twenty dollar bills from her bag which she then handed to me, and I asked her what size skate she wore. She told me her size, I went and retrieved a pair of ice skates in her size, returned and gave them to her, then I retreated to the DJ booth to put on some music. By the time I had arrived at the DJ booth, she had already put on her skates and was headed for the ice. I grabbed the microphone and asked her if she had any preferences, but she just smiled and shook her head no, leaving the musical selections up to me. Her hair was very short, and until she smiled at me, I hadn’t noticed just how beautiful she was. I’m a professional afterall; I’m here to operate an ice-skating rink, not pick up chicks.

Abbey had already began to skate a bit, and I could already tell that she knew how to skate as I pressed play on the CD player…

“The whispers, in the moment…of lovers sleeping tight…”

No sooner had Celine Dion finished breathing the first line of The Power Of Love, that I looked out to the ice, and saw Abbey slide to a ice crystal spraying stop, put her hands on her hips and look down her nose at me in mock-contempt as she smiled. I couldn’t help but smile back and laugh a little as she stood there, smiling and tapping the toe of her ice skate the way a mother might. I immediately hit the stop button on the CD player, glanced up and noticed that she was still tapping her foot as I rummaged quickly through the CD’s to find a different song. I admit that I noticed that the Jennifer Rush version of this same song was handy, and I contemplated putting it in the CD player as an attempt at being funny, but this was Abbey’s time. She paid for it, so I decided to hit her with a musical blindside instead, put in a new CD, and pressed play.

“As loud as hell, a ringing bell

Behind my smile, it shakes my teeth

And all the while, as vampires feed

I bleed

I bleed

I bleed

Abbey had started skating again, and I could see her doing the “head-bob” in an approving manner before Black Francis and Kim Deal of The Pixies even began to sing. And that’s how our relationship went on that cold and lonely October evening. Two hours of back and forth without a word between us. She’d slouch her shoulders while rolling her head back in disgust if I played something she didn’t like, and she’d smile, bob her head, and keep skating if I played something that she did. I must admit that I was quite surprised at the varieties of music that she did and didn’t like, and a few times she even gave me a look of surprise that an old fart like myself would know that the song I was playing even existed.

“I’m bigger than that.

Can you tango, can you mango,

mix n mangle, can you flow?

Let me angle more my kangol,

Are you single, can you go?

I’m bigger than that.

Format B’s remix of Skeleton Key by Pleasurecraft & Green Velvet boomed on the speakers as Abbey continued to zoom around the rink while grinning a smile that couldn’t be purchased for any amount of money, and I’d been enjoying the time so much myself that I simply hadn’t noticed that we had already run about fifteen minutes over time…but that’s when the power to the rink went out.

I immediately reached for the small flashlight next to the DJ mixer, and yelled to Abbey to stay where she was until I could get some light, but the flashlight didn’t work. I found this extremely odd since I knew for a fact that the batteries had been changed only recently. The music had been so loud for so long, that I simply had not noticed that the wind had picked up as the sun had gone down. But as my hearing slowly returned, it became quickly attuned to the fact that the wind was indeed blowing quite viciously outside, and assumed that the wind was likely the cause for the power outage.

Probably less than a minute had transpired when my eyes adjusted enough to notice that the watch Abbey had tried to barter with was still glowing around her wrist, and as I looked around and surveyed the rest of the rink, I noticed that this was the only source of light in the rink. None of the emergency exit signs were working, which was odd considering that they were battery powered in a power outage, but even more strange was the fact that not even the luminous paint on the walls was glowing. If ever a person who loved Halloween wanted to be somewhere extra-spooky on Halloween night, Yarnip County Texas was suddenly the place to be.

I recall trying to keep my cool since I was the owner/operator of this place, and ultimately responsible for the safety and well being of my one and only paying patron, and luckily Abbey had worked her way over to the DJ booth by the time that I started getting a shade rattled. Without saying a word, she took the watch off of her wrist and laid it on the table next to me since it appeared that she had also noticed that her watch was the only source of light in the entire place. From the cycling purple-ish glow of the red and blue lights in the watch, I could barely make out the outline of her face and noticed that she was smiling. A large closed-mouth grin that made her eyes sparkle somewhat, but there was what seemed to be a hint of sadness in her eyes. To tell the truth, I don’t know if it was sadness or joy or what it was that I saw in there. After a moment of looking at each other, and just prior to me realizing that my gawping was about to become uncomfortable, she said “My friends are here.”

That’s when all hell broke loose.

The entire building and everything in it moved as if it had just had the ground removed beneath it, and I felt that sudden quasi-sickening feeling in my stomach as if someone or something that was only previously holding me up had suddenly dropped me or given way. I knew it wasn’t just and only me, as the entire building shook as it came crashing down shortly after starting to fall. Judging by the way that my knees buckled, it felt as though the entirety of the building had just dropped about one foot, and it’s unlikely that there was a single object in the entire building that didn’t make some kind of noise. My immediate concern was for Abbey who was standing on the ice in skates in front of the DJ booth. But as metal and glass found their new equilibrium amid much clanging, shattering and crashing, I noticed that I could no longer see her face and assumed that she had fallen in the chaos.

The glow of the watch provided me with my only bearings, and I quickly grabbed it and held it out over the ice from the DJ booth’s lofty position…no Abbey. My heart, weakened in its pulse somewhat from the fear, pounded a first ‘BOOM!’ of approval as my being shifted from the fear of cower to the cape of crusader. I knew it was foolhardy, but I sprang over the counter of the DJ booth onto the ice of the rink without hesitation, and luckily my somewhat aged ankles held as my feet found their footing on the ice of the rink. The soles of my shoes had hardly touched the ice when the power came back on, and it scared the living shit out of me. Deamau5 immediately began blaring on the sound system since I had just put a new song on prior to the power going out, and I quickly looked around and surveyed everywhere, but Abbey was nowhere to be seen. I yelled her name as loud as I could…no response. I reached up and around to hit stop on the CD player, but the song kept playing. In frustration, I reached for the volume sliders, but when I moved them down, no change. I admit that a flush of rage came over me as I looked around at the damage of the place, and contemplated ripping the power cables out of the wall for the whole fucking mess, but then something grabbed me…

“Feeling the past moving in

Letting a new day begin

Hold to the time that you know

You don’t have to move on to let go

Add to the memory you keep

Remember when you fall asleep

Hold to the love that you know

You don’t have to give up to let go

Remember turning on the night

And moving through the morning light

Remember how it was with you

Remember how you pulled me through

I remember

I remember

I remember

I remember

I remember

I remember

I remember

I remember

I noticed that I was still holding the watch, and still standing in the same place that I had landed on the ice, looking around in disbelief listening to a song by deadmau5 & Kaskade blaring on the PA, when it occurred to me that I was a complete moron for jumping onto the ice because I could have landed on top of Abbey had she fallen.

The ice. The ice is unbroken. I looked at my feet in disbelief, then looked around the ice itself…no fractures, no bulges, no shards…no lines? Impossible. I was wearing my Converse All-Stars, but wandered shakily out further onto the ice anyway, and as I surveyed the ice itself there was not a single line to be found. The song suddenly ended and I instinctively looked back towards the DJ booth, and on the railing to the left of the DJ booth hung a pair of ice skates with the laces tied together, and they were swaying ever so slightly as if someone had only just hung them there. I watched them for a moment to be sure that my eyes were not playing tricks on me, and sure enough, they stopped swaying after a moment. I kept watching them for a while longer just to see if they started moving again. The wind was blowing furiously outside afterall, and this building was already drafty even before some Titan decided to throw it off a cliff a few moments ago. The skates didn’t move.

I kept feeling as though I should be scared, but I never really recall being afraid after the lights came back on. I’m not sure exactly what I felt at this point. My entire life has been filled with weird and strange experiences, but I am neither witch nor wizard, alchemist nor mage. If I had to qualify my feelings at that point, it was simply “keep going”…don’t stop. And so, that’s exactly what I did. I had to know. Still clutching the watch, I proceeded off the ice, and straight to the breaker box for the power. When I got there, and without hesitation, I pulled the main breaker lever, and the entire rink was suddenly aglow via the artwork within the rink that had been painted in phosphorescent paint. I flipped the main breaker back on, the lights came back on, and headed out the front door into the parking lot.

Nothing. No cars except my own. Just prior to turning around and going back into the building, I noticed that the front-end of the car was sitting at an odd angle. I walked a little closer and craned my neck to look around the car, and sure enough, the left-front tire was flat. To be honest, it didn’t even phase me because I was already home and had luckily already stocked up on beer and food for the evening as I was planning to grill a steak out in the cold after the sun went down.

It’s likely that at this point, you have many questions. You’ve identified holes, you’ve thought about what you would have done or would have done differently, and maybe even what I should have done. You aren’t wrong in doing so, and I can assure you that I’ve questioned myself relentlessly since then. But I can only tell the story as it happened. I cannot go back and make everything right, nor can I write some instruction manual so that I’ll be better prepared next time this happens. A woman calling herself Abbey Attrix wandered in to my skating rink in Yarnip County Texas on October 31st of 2008, some pretty weird shit happened over the course of about one minute, she vanished from my rink and my life completely, I’ve no idea what happened to her, nor have I seen her since. The last thing that she said to me was “my friends are here”, but I never saw anyone other than her, and I could only just barely see her when she said that. No one has ever appeared looking for her, she has never returned, and I still have her wristwatch.

“Well I live with snakes and lizards

And other things that go bump in the night

‘Cause to me everyday is Halloween

I have given up hiding and started to fight

I have started to fight.

Well any time, any place, anywhere that I go

All the people seem to stop and stare

They say “why are you dressed like it’s Halloween?

You look so absurd, you look so obscene”

Oh, why can’t I live a life for me?

Why should I take the abuse that’s served?

Why can’t they see they’re just like me

It’s the same, it’s the same in the whole wide world.”

– Ministry, Every Day Is Halloween

So if you again are thinking that I’m telling some fantastic tale in order to drum up interest in Yarnip County Texas and/or my skating rink? Well, you are free to think what you want. Just know that my skating rink is only closed one day out of the year…Halloween. Oh, and good luck finding Yarnip County Texas or my rink the other 364/365 days of the year.

😉

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p king x mass

*Yeah! I love his ‘Christmas Ever’ tale …/final drag… I ‘ope he’s written some some stories in the next Anthology, Clicky… /stubs butt…*

😀 Happy Halloween, Dear Reader, and… Have a Song ❤

Story Time: Trick or Treat

Welcome, Dear Reader, to a double-bill of stories for this Halloween…

This first story appeared in ‘Underdog Anthology III: Treeskull Stories’ for Halloween last year. If you like it and want to know what happens for Halloween this year, you can find out by purchasing the latest Underdog Anthology – ‘The Gallows Stone’…

next halloween

*Yeah… /lights up… I’ll post ‘Cos Play’s The Thing’ up at the LoL for next Halloween, Clicky… /drags…*

Dear Reader… Enjoy! ❤

*******

Trick or Treat

By Roo B. Doo

Any day that starts with a Grim Reaper confrontation is probably not going to be a good one, especially if it’s your first day back at work, following an all-inclusive fortnight in the Balearics. That’s exactly what I faced, however, when the lift doors opened onto the 5th floor offices of F.A. Kontrell this morning. I smacked aside the knobbly phalanx rudely pointed in my direction, and heard rather and saw it bounce off the wall and skitter across the floor.

“Ow, ‘Arry!” the Grim Reaper cried in an accent more Thames Estuary than Afterlife. The hooded figure bent down awkwardly to retrieve the plastic skeletal hand, and dropped his plastic scythe in the process. “Jesus!”

“Oh no!” I replied, pushing open the door to the main office, “Is he here, too?”

The Bride of Frankenstein looked up from behind the reception desk. Blood red lips that appeared to still be bleeding smiled thinly in my direction. It made a change from the norm; Shazza generally avoids spending any time at her desk doing the job she’s paid to do. “Happy Halloween, Harry! WOooo!”

To think we’d nearly got shot of her back in the spring when her drunken behaviour at the County Business Awards had landed the firm on the front page of the local rag. If only the Fat Kontroller had seized the opportunity to sack the bitch then, my working life would be so much more pleasant. But he hadn’t, probably due to the good mood bestowed by winning the Green Business Award. He’d given Shazza a second chance and, today, as a result, the office is manned by a fucking freak show.

“Nice costume,” Shazza remarked slyly as I signed myself in.

“I’m not wearing one,” I replied slowly. “I’ve been on holiday.”

Shazza lowered her kohl-rimmed eyes. “Oh.”

The silence was broken by an unexpected bark of laughter from the Grim Reaper, who’d followed me in from the lift lobby and now slouched against reception desk, gazing longingly at Shazza. Far from being the Angel of Death, with the hood down, the Collector of Souls turned out to be none other than Ian, the gangly six-foot apprentice, with acme acne and unibrow. F.A Kontrell had taken him on during the summer, and Ian had taken an immediate shine to Shazza. Fuck knows why, but she was absolutely loving having a teenage acolyte hanging on her every word. They were turning out to be a match made in hell. My hell.

“Go anywhere nice?” Shazza continued, ignoring the ringing reception phone. “Bet it was really hot.”

“Ibiza and yes,” I replied curtly. I pointed to the phone. “Are you gonna get that?”

“Yes.” Shazza snapped her fingers and Ian reached across to pick up the receiver. “You’re very red, Harry. Are you sore?” she continued.

“No.” One of the curses of being fair skinned of the ginger variety is a tendency to turn into a shade of vermilion at the slightest sniff of sunshine.

“Oh, I thought you’d come as a burns victim. That’ll be a fiver.” Shazza held out her hand.

“A fiver for what?”

“The donation,” Shazza said innocently. “For not wearing a costume today. It is for charity,” she purred sweetly.

Fucking cheek! I fumed, but decided to keep my temper under control. At least for now; it was still early. “Sharon, I’ve only got Euros until I can get to the bank at lunchtime. You’ll have to wait.”

Ian, having finished dealing with the phone call decided to join in the fun again. He pulled the hood of his robe back over his head. “Later,” he intoned gravely at me. Shazza tittered.

“By the way, you two,” I pointed at each in turn. “Horrific, truly horrific. You’ve excelled yourselves. Kudos.”

I left them to their mirth and made my way to my desk. En route a zombie, a fairy and Elvis poked their heads up from the grindstone to mouth “hellos” and an “Uh-ha!” before resuming their computer screen vigils.

“Harry!” the Fat Kontroller’s voice boomed from out from his office. “Come on in here. Good holiday?”

I wandered through to see the boss, sat at an uncommonly tidy desk. He was wearing an opera cloak over his suit. “Yes thank you, Mr Kontrell. Erm, can I ask, what’s with all the fancy dress this year? We don’t normally dress up for Halloween.”

The Fat Kontroller grinned slowly, revealing sharp incisors tipped with blood. “Raising money, Harry. For the wictims,” he said rolling his R’s and finishing with a maniacal laugh.

I refrained from rolling my eyes. “Victims of what,” I asked.

“Does it matter? There are always wictims worthy of support.”

Oh fuck! What was the betting Shazza and co had waited until I was safely out of the country before springing the idea on the old man; I would have poo-pooed it. Or at the very least I could have joined in. “Was this a lastminutedotcom decision?” I continued to probe. “I don’t remember seeing anything about this before I left for holiday. I’m feeling like… well, kind of left out.”

“Oh don’t worry about it,” the Fat Kontroller said magnanimously, running his tongue over his vampire teeth but entirely missing my point, “You can still contribute with cash. It is for wictims.”

“Wictims. Right.” I turned to leave.

“Although,” the Fat Kontroller continued, “You know you are awfully red, Harry. You could get away with saying you’re a burns victim.”

Why are the first day back after holidays always the worst?

“I’ll let you get caught up with your emails and the like this morning. We’ll have a proper catch-up later on today, Harry,” the Fat Kontroller called out after me. “There’s much to do.”

“Right-O, Mr K,” I replied with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, which started at minuscule and was decreasing rapidly having caught sight of the piles of paperwork on my desk. FAK! I thought malevolently. That’s why the bastard’s desk is so clear!

I snatched up a gaily coloured flier that had been placed on top of my keyboard, where I couldn’t miss it. The day’s intended ‘Wictim Support’ activities and best costume prize were detailed,replete with an overdose of exclamation marks and crappy puns; the telltale signs of Shazza. And what was this? The best costume winner would get a bottle of Glenfarclas single malt whisky, courtesy of the Fat Kontroller!!! Other than the man himself, I knew of no other person in the office that would appreciate that prize as much as me.

I balled the flyer angrily and threw it at the paper recycling bin across the walkway from my desk. It flopped weakly onto the floor before reaching the target. Good grief, Harry! I scolded myself, you throw like a bloody girl!

***

The queue at the bank snaked back to the main entrance and was populated with a mishmash of people who looked like they longed for death. I had no intention of joining them in their endless quest to reach a cashier, and walked over to the desks at the back of the lobby. “Hi! I’m here to see Mr Williams,” I told the pretty thing, with dimples and chestnut curls, sitting pertly at one of them. She must be new, I hadn’t seen her before.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked me brightly.

“No,” I said and glanced at the name badge fixed to her jacket. “Peta? Could you tell him that Harry Egg is here bearing holiday gifts.” I lifted up the duty free bag I was holding to an audible chink.

“Oh where have you been to?” Peta asked with a smile. “You certainly caught some colour.”

I briefly wondered if she were taking the piss before catching the smile in her eyes. “Ibiza. San Antonio. The weather was unseasonably gorgeous, thank you.”

Peta gasped and her whole face lit up. “I went there in the summer! I’d definitely go back again.”

“Yes, it’s a lovely island,” I said with a smile that also reached my eyes. “The nightlife was pretty good, too.”

“It is! Absolutely super,” she gushed. There was an awkward silence. “Your colour makes your eyes stand out. They’re really blue. Piercing.”

I’m not used to compliments – I blushed; luckily it was well camouflaged. “Thanks!” I was momentarily stunned. “Um. Lol, Mr Williams? Is he in?” I said, fixing her with a piercing blue stare.

Now Peta blushed. “Oh yes, sorry. Do you mind waiting? I’ll go tell him you’re here.” She smiled again and wiggled off in the direction of Lol’s office. And what a wiggle! Like two puppy dogs fighting under a blanket. It would seem my day was picking up at last.

I parked my arse on the edge of her desk, trying to look suave and nonchalant, awaiting Peta’s return. Piercing blue eyes, eh? I pondered and I nearly missed her frantic waving, gesturing me to join her. With a final glance at the sad saps standing in line, I sauntered off toward my best friend and his delightful new member of staff.

“Harry!” Lol ushered me into his office. “Peta, could you rustle us up a couple of cappuccinos? Thank you.”

Peta left and we slunk down onto the sofa in the corner of his office. “When did you get back?” Lol asked, loosening his tie.

“Last night.” I yawned involuntarily. “I’m absolutely knackered today.” I passed him the chinking Duty Free bag. “Here, your present. I’m afraid it’s booze.”

“No imagination whatsoever,” Lol playfully chided me before giving me a kiss and a hug. “Thank you!”

“I kept the giant Toberlone for myself.”

“Well you never know when you might need it,” Lol said with an exaggerated wink. “Now come on, tell me H, did you have a good time? I can see you’ve caught some colour…”

There was a knock at the door, heralding the return of Peta with our coffees. She set the foamy cups down on the table in front of us, smiling the whole time and showing her dimples off to their best advantage. I flashed some ‘piercing blue’ at her and wondered if she had any more dimples secreted elsewhere.

Lol waited until she left for a second time before opening up one of the bottles. “Why don’t we Irish up these coffees? So, come on, Harry, spill. Did you get any good minge?” he asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow as he poured slug of whisky into each of our cups.

I laughed at my friend’s directness. “Lol, you have no interest in minge and absolutely no idea what constitutes good or bad minge!”

I’d met LoL at university during Freshers. We’d hit it off straight away like a long lost brother and sister reunited, but with zero potential for incest. We’re a queer, old fashioned pair; neither wore our sexuality on our sleeves. Fag and Fag Hag. Both happy to keep each other company in the closet. Much like that song by the Cure.

“Alright then, did you get any minge at all?” Lol pestered. “Come on, tell me you got laid, Harry. You’ve not been on Facebook or Twitter these past two weeks. I have no idea how your holiday went.” He sipped his coffee and licked his lips. “I’ve missed you.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” I said slapping his knee. “I needed some time out, away from emails and social media and work.” I fairly spat out the last word. Since the Fat Kontroller had deemed it necessary for me to be issued with company mobile phone and laptop, I’d been tending to keep on top of my workload in my own time. I wanted to completely remove any temptation to do that during my holiday, and had left all electronic devices at home. Of course, I had second thoughts about that decision as soon as I discovered more than 1,500 emails awaiting my return. It had not been a fun morning.

“Minge?” Lol reminded me.

“Oh my god! You’re incorrigible!”

Lol was not deterred by my rebuke. “British? Foreign?”

“German.”

“Ah, ze Hunny cunny. Das ist gut! Wunderbar?”

“Ja! And I had an English,” I added, clearing my throat.

“Did you swing low, sweet Harriet?”

“Always,” I grinned at his exuberance and slurped from my cup. “There’s nothing like a Manc-muffin for breakfast.”

“Ooh Harry! You filthy tramp! Both at the same time?” Lol asked eagerly.

“No, sadly,” I sighed. “Hey, I was going to ask you, what’s the deal with Peta? She’s new isn’t she?”

“You are not corrupting my staff, Harry,” Lol said with a stern look. I returned it with one of innocent affront, to which he snorted derisively. “She’s straight, I think, but young. I did hear on the grapevine that she’s not adverse to a bit of Toberlone when tipsy.”

“Hmm, I’ve not had much luck with chocolate in the past,” I mused pensively.

“And how is the fair Josie?” Lol asked. He was referring to a stunning goddess masquerading as F.A. Kontrell’s HR Manager. We’d had a close encounter the Christmas before and I’d ended up with concussion courtesy of Alfie, the troll masquerading as her boyfriend. I’d pretty well much kept my distance after that but, as I said, goddess. And how often do you meet one of those in real life? I had to give it a go.

“I dunno, I haven’t seen her since I got back,” I said, which reminded me: “Ugh! You’ll never guess. Every fucker in the office is wearing fancy dress today.” I grimaced and reached for my handbag. “Even the Fat Kontroller. He’s wearing bloody fangs, for fuck’s sake. I’m the only one not in costume!”

Lol leaned back and surveyed me quietly. “Harry…”

I rummaged for my purse. “Yes.”

“Have you thought…” he continued slowly.

Call it a spot of deja vu, but I knew what was coming next; I flashed him a look. “Don’t!”

Lol grinned mischievously. “Well, you are kind of glowing. Have you thought of saying you’re…”

I cut him off. “A burns victim?”

“No!” Lol snapped. “No, I was thinking you look more like a Bloody Mary. But yeah, a burns victim works just as well.”

I watched him convulse with laughter at his own joke before holding out a wad of Euros at him. “I’m glad I amuse you so, oh bestest friend that’s also happens to be a bank manager.” I placed the money in his hand. “Now, be a dear and change this lot into Sterling for me. And I’m not paying commission.”

Lol went off in search of the cash and I finished my coffee. I was contemptuously contemplating the afternoon ahead – apple bobbing and pumpkin carving were on the agenda courtesy of Shazza – when there was a soft tap at the door. It was Peta.

“Hi, Harry.” She sounded nervous. “I just wanted to say it was very nice meeting you today.”

Interesting… I decided to play it cool; no need to shit all over Lol’s warning off straightaway, and it was entirely possible Peta was mistakenly brown nosing her boss’s ‘girlfriend’. Softly, softly catchee monkey. “You too.” I smiled brightly; teeth and eyes. “I hope to see you again soon. Maybe for Christmas drinks.”

She didn’t get a chance to answer because Lol returned with my cash. After that we said our goodbyes and made plans to meet for a proper catch up at the weekend. I left the bank with a spring in my step – possibly down to the Irish – and walked back along the High Street, back to work. And then I saw it. In the window of a shop. Of course! I mentally slapped my own forehead, even as a creeping smile split my face. I took the crisp notes Lol had given me and went inside.

***

Impatiently I ascended to the fifth floor of our building, willing the ancient, groaning lift along the way. I wanted to get to the toilets, preferably without anyone seeing me, so I could change into the costume I’d seen in the fancy dress shop. Luckily there was a dearth of people in the outer office of F.A. Kontrell when I arrived, but a noisy hullabaloo was emanating from the conference room: festivities were in full swing. I rushed to the ladies and locked myself in an empty stall.

Inside I shrugged off my clothes and stood naked, shivering, ripping at the plastic bag holding my costume with my teeth. I heard the outer door to the toilets open and somebody enter and lock themselves into the stall next to mine. I hope they’re not having a crap, I thought fleetingly as I struggled to release the silky material from the packaging.

Quickly I changed into the costume and stepped out and over to the wash basin mirror to adjust the fit. Saggy and tight in equal measure, it was a typical shop bought costume and I was both pleased and disappointed at the way I looked. I shook the few cosmetics that I own out from my handbag and set about finishing the look. The toilet flushed behind me and my heart skipped a beat as I caught the reflection of Wonder Woman emerging from the cubicle.

“Hey, Harry! How are you?” Josie said blithely. “Is this yours? It slipped under the gap.”

Yes. Yes. Oh fucking yeah! I mentally screamed as I drank in the sight of the woman I lusted after. From the soft fall of her naturally raven black curls over her shoulders, down to the skintight boots via voluptuous chest, crotch and lean, tanned thighs, Josie stood every inch the embodiment of that most Marvelous creation. Girl, you should wear that every day!

“Horns!” I blurted out and took the plastic package from her hand. “Thanks! You look amazing!” I said thickly, no doubt down to my drooling tongue.

Josie strode purposefully – how could she not in that outfit? – over to the washbasins and washed her hands, all the time smiling at me in the bathroom mirror. “Thanks. You look great too, Harry. Did you have a good holiday?”

“Yeah, it was nice to get away,” I said unable to take eyes from her hard curves and inviting crevasses reflected back at me. “Just back today actually. I didn’t know it was fancy dress.”

“Well you look suitably devilish now.” Josie finished washing her hands and pushed past me to get to the hot air drier. “Do you need a hand with that?”

I’d been gawping, holding the horns in one hand and an eye liner pencil in the other; half a mustache painted over my top lip. “Okay,” I said meekly.

Josie hit the button on the drier and warm air blasted out, rustling the hem of her cape as she dried her hands. I had an idea.

“You should try this,” I said, adjusting the air drier so that it blew upwards, lifting her hair and billowing her cape. “Now, that’s the Wonder Woman look!”

Josie giggled her delightful giggle, the one what made me feel all wet and gushy. “Harry, you and your bright ideas. Now come here and I’ll finish your mustache off for you.” She gently held my chin and with a few deft flicks of the eyeliner, completed my look. Then she took the plastic horns from my hands and adjusted them on my head. “Perfect.”

Maybe Peta was on to something because I definitely felt a frisson pass between us, as my piercing blues met Josie’s chocolate browns. She continued staring at me and it felt as if time itself had stopped. “Alfie and I have split up,” she stated calmly.

I was about to reply: “Thank fuck! The man’s a brute and totally undeserving of you”, but was rudely interrupted by the door to the toilets crashing open, quickly followed by a screeching howl of pain. Shazza rushed in, tears streaming down her contorted face, holding out her hand, blood pouring from the palm. The Grim Reaper followed, hopping anxiously from foot to foot.

“Are you alright, Shazza? I’m so sorry!” Ian cried with anguish. “Shazza. Shazza. I was only trying to help.”

“Arghhh!!! It hurts!” Shazza screamed, thrusting her hand under the basin cold tap. “You idiot, Ian!”

“What’s happened?” Josie gently shoved me aside to get to our bleeding receptionist. “Oh shit, that deep? You’re going to need stitches.”

Shazza glared at Ian in the bathroom mirror with pain and rage; he looked back with stricken despair. “I was carving my pumpkin quite nicely when he comes along and… Oww! Oh my god, that really hurts!!!”

“I’m sorry Shazza,” Ian wailed, his voice breaking with barely contained sobs. “I was… I was only trying to help you with the… with the eyes!”

“The eyes were fine! IDIOT!!!” Shazza roared back.

“Okay, okay. Let’s just calm down now shall we?” Josie said grabbing a roll of toilet tissue from the cupboard under the sink. She placed it firmly against the cut on Shazza’s hand and blood immediately started to saturate the roll; creeping up and spreading out. “Hold that there. I’ll take you to the hospital and we’ll get that seen to, okay. Harry…”

“Yes okay,” I said springing into action. “You two do that. I’ll take the lad for a cup of tea and a sit down, and then I’ll clean this blood up.”

“Thank you,” Josie said with a strained smile as she ushered Shazza out of the toilets.

Ian’s top lip was wobbling quite badly. “Come on, darling,” I said gently. “Let’s take you round the corner for a cuppa, eh? You know, you really shouldn’t be in the ladies toilets, Ian. Didn’t we mention that during Induction?”

“Na…na…no,” he sobbed.

“Oh that’s okay, sweetie.” I rubbed his shoulders and guided him out of the toilets. “We know now and can include it for the future, eh? You’ve helped us improve our induction process. Well done you. Okay? Come on, let’s get that cup of tea.”

***

The rest of the afternoon was a bit of an anticlimax after all the excitement of the ladies toilets. No one noticed I was now dressed as the devil. Except for the Fat Kontroller.

“Superb costume choice, Miss Egg,” he informed me when we finally sat down to catch up on business. “Sadly you haven’t won as you didn’t wear it all day, but I love the improvisation with Deviled Egg. Very good. Eggcellent in fact!” he chortled loudly. In fact he carried on chuckling at his cleverness throughout the meeting. Oh, how I laughed.

The Grim Reaper eventually calmed down and volunteered to help me with the mounds of paperwork on my desk. I declined but thanked him, noting the new found respect in his offer. I should have got him to mop up the blood.

Neither Josie nor Shazza made it back to the office in time for the costume prize giving, and I wondered if I’d ever get the chance to see Josie in her Wonder Woman costume again. That, I thought emphatically, now, that’s what I want for Christmas!

I still don’t know which wictims will benefit from the £22.50 raised from the day’s Halloween themed activities. No doubt they’ll be grateful when they find out. As for the Fat Kontroller’s bottle of Glenfarclas, that was won by Elvis. She received it with hip wiggle and extremely droll “Thank you very much!”

*******

sandy claws

*Yeah, I suppose Harry could have gone as Santa, Clicky… /blows smoke ring… Butt that would have spoiled the Fat Kontroller’s Devilled Egg enjoyment…*

Our second Halloween story offering will be along in a bit, Dear Reader. Have a Song whilst you wait 😉

On The Lash: Off The Leash

Enormous chair

I have had a fantastic holiday away from The Tower this past fortnight, Dear Reader. Aside from writing a Halloween story for the next Underdog Anthology, I have spent my time remote viewing, with Cade, a shit-ton of movies from my ‘To Watch’ list. To be honest, we barely scratched the surface. I’d provide a comprehensive account of them all, but to do that would take a fuck-ton of Twitter DM scrolling, and the remainder of my holiday…

*And that’s only from yesterday, Clicky… /lights upSo much good stuff… /drags…*

*Mmm, hot chocolate… /blows smoke ring… That’s a bleedin’ good movie, Clicky… /flicks Ash… They all are…*

Legs and Roob selfie catching up

*PANoptica, PAMoptica? …/draws in smoke… TiTANic TITania?*

TIT at the top is the client going the long way round

*Heh. Well, we’re certainly going the long way round, Clicky… /rolls eyes… that’s foreshore…*

Cade and Roob selfie remote viewing 5Cade and Roob selfie remote viewing 6

*Yeah, Josephine takes over her husband’s cafe and revamps it at the end of Chocolat… /drags... Calls it ‘Armande’… /plumes smoke…  after Judi Dench’s character…*

*Pivotal… /final drag… Hey, I listened to Lashy’s latest talk, Clicky… /streams smoke… and he don’t seem that interested in decoding the Mandela Effect anymore… /stubs butt… Gotta say, I fink that’s a mist ache…*

Anyhoo, Dear Reader, I’m off now to enjoy what’s left of my holiday. It ain’t over ’til it’s over, as they say… Well, you know 😉 Have a Song…

 

The E-Motion Potion

*Interesting choice of Song, Clicky… /pat snout… ‘Cos of what Frank wrote me last night in the Red universe? …/rolls up…*

Merovee Selfie with Frank and MJ 1Merovee Selfie with Frank and MJ 2Merovee Selfie with Frank and MJ 3

*/puts rollie to lips… Welcome to the Jung Gal? …/flicks lighter… Don’t. You’ll make me laugh… /lights up… and that’ll make me cough… /drags… and I don’t need the wee seepage right now, thank you very much… *

*Clicky! That’s Jeremy Irons singing… /taps ash… He’s in one the the double bill of movies Cade and I watched last night… /puffs… and what this post is supposed to be about… /rolls eyes… If I ever fuckin’ get round to start writing it…*

Dear Reader, I am on holiday now for the next two weeks. Underdog Anthology VI: The Gallows Stone – is due out for Halloween and I haven’t written anything for it yet…

Roob catches Legs up her evening 1Roob catches Legs up her evening 2

… Last night, instead of writing, I accepted Cade’s invitation to watch some movies. Well, I am on holiday 😉 We each picked a film that we’d really enjoyed watching, but that the other hadn’t seen. First up was Cade’s pick of ‘Moneyball’, ostensibly about baseball…

‘In the film, Beane (Brad Pitt) and assistant GM Peter Brand (Jonah Hill), faced with the franchise’s limited budget for players, build a team of undervalued talent by taking a sophisticated sabermetric approach towards scouting and analyzing players.’

*237 eh, Clicky? …/smokes… Kinda Shining…*

… Followed by my flick pick of ‘Margin Call’…

‘The principal story takes place over a 24-hour period at a large Wall Street investment bank during the initial stages of the financial crisis of 2007–08.In focus are the actions taken by a group of employees during the subsequent financial collapse.’

Both movies were released in 2011, and both movies were about the same things: interpretation of numbers, risk management and being first with a paradigm-shifting break through…

… Or breakout…

…And the logistics required to build something up, or to tear it down…

*Sullivan… /final drag… I spent 16 years as a PA to a Construction Logistician called Sullivan… /stubs butt… He definitely had some paradigm-shifting ideas… /streams smoke…*

I can highly recommend both movies, Dear Reader, especially if you have time to view them in one sitting. Tomorrow I shall start writing a story for the UAVI, but for tonight, Cade has recommended a horror film for us to watch. To help get me in the mood, so to speak…

*No, I can’t believe I’ve never seen it before either, Clicky… /pats snout… Now be a love and get something suitable to end with…*

I’ll be certain to let you know how the stories are coming along, but until then, Dear Reader… Have a Song 😀

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 ❤

 

Man Dial A Defect

Enormous chair

authority (n.)

‘c. 1200, autoriteauctorite “authoritative passage or statement, book or quotation that settles an argument, passage from Scripture,” from Old French autoritéauctorité “authority, prestige, right, permission, dignity, gravity; the Scriptures” (12c.; Modern French autorité), from Latin auctoritatem (nominative auctoritas) “invention, advice, opinion, influence, command,” from auctor “master, leader, author” (see author (n.)). Usually spelled with a -c- in English before 16c., when the letter was dropped in imitation of French, then with a -th-, probably by influence of authentic.

‘From c. 1300 in the general sense “legal validity,” also “authoritative book; authoritative doctrine” (opposed to reason or experience); “author whose statements are regarded as correct.” From mid-14c. as “right to rule or command, power to enforce obedience, power or right to command or act.” In Middle English also “power derived from good reputation; power to convince people, capacity for inspiring trust.” From c. 1400 as “official sanction, authorization.” Meaning “persons in authority” is from 1610s; Authorities “those in charge, those with police powers” is recorded from mid-19c.’

Ever heard of the Milgram Experiment, Dear Reader? It’s a social psychological experiment conducted in the early 1960s, which tested people’s obedience to a figure of authority…

The subject of the test is not the person receiving the shocks, but the person administering them. Now, let me show you how it has been run in the 21st Century…

Milgram Updated Governments and Smokers

WHITE COATS

GREY SUITS

BLACK LUNGS

And it’s not just smokers that have suffered at the hands of shocking decision-makers, Dear Reader. Administering Subjects, national and local, have performed so poorly that there are now other, mini ‘White Coat’ figures of authority, jumping all over them to get on the ban_wagon…

High Priest Jammy Dodger

… They are so very keen to tell the ‘Grey Suits‘…

BUT! There was some good news last night, Dear Reader, from across the Pond…

Now all the Dez Rez Prez needs to do is listen to his VEEP

good cop bad cop

Have a Song 😉

Missive From ‘Merica: ‘K. Ask Cade

Dear Reader, on Sunday, after posting at the LoL, The Okie Devil and I decided to resume our exploration of Doctor Who…

Cade and Roob in Sunday night convo 3

*Oh good idea, Clicky… /lights up… Convo selfies…*

Since, I first introduced Cade to the the Doctor, we’ve also watched the complete Deadwood series (his offering) and most of Sherlock (my offering). Synchronized viewing, across the Pond via the internet, all kicked off by the age old starting together method of “3, 2, 1, Go!”

Thankfully the last season of Sherlock is not readily available…

reality

*To be honest, Clicky, I didn’t look that hard… /drags… What they did to that show? …/thumps chest… Still. Fucking. Hurts! …/snorts smoke…*

Whilst we were watching, fellow Mero-VEEP and Blade & Chalice blogger, GeneofIsis (MJ), paid a visit to the LoL. She very kindly posted some comments and photographs…

Cade and Roob in Sunday night convo 2

And here it is, Dear Reader: a ‘Missive From ‘Merica’ inspired by MJ 😀 Enjoy! ❤

*******

Let's carry on something I started elsewhere...

Continuing here will allow me to float a bit. I must admit tho, I do not want to float…I’d prefer to address things more directly, as requested. Not sure I can do that. We’ll see how and where this goes.

^BSOD / This Is Also The Hook [full version]^

If you are creating a systematic type of environment for others to follow, do you work it forwards? Or would it make more sense to work from valley to summit, backwards?

Does that even make sense?

Think of it like this…if you are going to commit yourself to summit a transcendent type of peak, where do you start? It’s likely that you’ll actually start this journey when you made the decision to package and sell your journey to others.

So, isn't that the logical place to start?

You are going to be selling your bullshit to others, which means they are likely to want to do the same, so it makes more sense to me to start relating your journey when you became enlightened as to the potential commercial benefits of sharing your program with others.

Do I have you pissed off yet? Cause I have a program for sell that helps one deal with unfounded anger issues. The starter program is on special this week for $399.95. And you get a free “I Fuck On The First Date” coffee mug when you purchase the program.

^The KLF – What Time Is Love?(1991)^

Figuring things out can be rough. So let’s go backwards and look at some shit that I saw in some comments that a certain someone made recently on a certain blog.

7 spokes on the Honda (looks like a Honda anyway /shrug)

8 spokes on the spinning wheel

22 panes in the windows

07 in the reflection

The masonry is quite stunning, and the color of paint is beautifully matched.

Q: Who is holding the camera?

A: ?

Did you know, that if you accidentally like one of your own comments on a WordPress blog post, that you cannot unlike it/undo the action? I related to Roob what this experience felt like on my end. Maybe she’ll share with the class.

Cade and Roob in Sunday night convo 1

^Modern Romance — Everybody Salsa Video HQ^

If you are going to espouse a predictive ability that contains an acceptable degree of precision, you are going to have to have shitloads of variables.

What am I thinking here?

Welp, let’s say that someone asked me to give some of my thoughts about some “synchs” or whatever, and there were potentially loads of purposes behind this request. Such as, what will he write about, and what will he omit? What will his reasoning be behind any omissions, and what will his logic be behind anything included?

Al Bean – The Forgotten Apollo Astronaut

(lolz – many forgotten Apollo astronauts, but he, ironically, is likely the most famous)

Leapfrog – how to get from A to B, all while appearing to not go anywhere in particular, or maybe even many directions at the same time. In this case, I am thinking about The Mercury Seven,

The New Nine,

Wally Schira,
Donald Slayton,

Ed White,

Apollo 9,

Bubblegum,

         Spider,

Apollo 1.

If none of that makes sense, it’s likely because the majority of what was behind the original thought(s) came from seeing a ‘Gemini’ reference, and the DM conversation that took place later on Twitter between myself and Roob. But much of it was predicated on the wording of a certain comment in the comments section of Roob’s blog. I later related that I personally hate the psychological analysis of speech and/or writing. It’s almost like you’ve completely ignored what was said, all for the sake of how it was said. Looking for “hidden meaning(s)” where there in fact may be none.

But back on “synchs” – lolz – this song just came up in my playlist on YouTube. I usually don’t point out shit like this because it happens all the time, but considering the circumstances, I’ll add the song, and you can make what you will of connections (if any).

^Paul Simon – You Can Call Me Al^

I was just watching a documentary on the SR-71 Blackbird.

Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird

Triethylborane

In the documentary, one of the pilots was talking about the simulator training the pilots received, and just how rigorous it was. He stated that it was non-stop errors and malfunctions up to the point to where the pilot was juggling 5 or 6 issues at the same time. When flying at Mach 3 plus, things happen very fast, and you can cover a great distance within a very short period of time. It was at this point that the real purpose of the test began, because you have to prioritize and “drop the ball” with respect to the issues you are juggling, and those doing the testing wanted to see what you prioritized and how you deprioritized your tasks.

Changing gears here, and with respect to a human life and/or human lives that I personally know nothing about, how do I personally prioritize my tasks? Knots in my stomach and a lump in my throat wouldn’t be my first choice, but for some reason, that kind of shit is on auto-pilot.

FYI, Mach 3 is roughly 2,301 miles per hour.

2,301 miles per hour is 3374.8 feet per second.

The fastest bullet speed is reported to be from the .220 swift, which is said to be 1,200 meters per second, which is 3,937 feet per second…so yeah…the aircraft is moving pretty goddamn fast.

3,374.8 feet per second equates to 38.35 miles per minute.

Google Maps reports that London to Southend = 42.0 miles via the A13.

“Distance from Southend-on-Sea to London is 58 kilometers. This air travel distance is equal to 36 miles. The air travel (bird fly) shortest distance between Southend-on-Sea and London is 58 km= 36 miles.”

That is to say, if you were flying in the SR-71 at normal cruising speed, you could cover the distance from London to Southend in right about one minute. So yeah, sometimes, things can happen pretty fucking quick.

^Lulu – Boom Bang A Bang (Eurovision – 1969)^

Maybe if you think about frequency as an adjustment less in speed, and more in direction? No, that doesn’t work, because now we are interpolating meaning. So let’s do this, and ask a question…

Q: Do you meditate?

A: ???

K, well, maybe you can. But does your meditative state really need to be some silent and calm something? I’m asking because I don’t know. Whenever I meditate, shit gets loud, frequent and there’s plenty of it…like taking inventory of the contents of a tornado, all while trying to figure out the best method for doing so and still survive the tornado.

I guess what I am asking is, does your mind desire to have a silent mediation session, but you just can’t seem to do it? Maybe don’t focus so much on focus, and let things get fuzzy. Stop trying to pick something apart, or put something together, and just let the shit fly. I only say this because one of my more troubling experiences was with respect to an entity speaking to me so fast, in a language that I did not understand, that all I could think of was:

“This entity is fucking nuts. They’ve gone completely off their rocker, and are speaking nothing but gibberish.”

But then it occurred to me…what if they weren’t speaking to just me and only me? What if there was a way for an entity to have simultaneous conversations with more than one listener? Almost immediately, the gibberish stopped, and it occurred to me that perhaps there was something taking place that I could not understand, only because I did not understand the dynamics of the lesson being taught.

^COCTEAU TWINS (extended) BLUEBEARD^

Ever been around someone that just intimidated the living shit out of you? Someone that was so fucking smart, that it was as if there was nothing they could not do?

Welp, stop yourself for a second, back up, and think about this…if you are intimidated by them, they are likely not going to be able to relate to you at all. So in effect, this knowitall fucker, in fact, cannot do everything.

Feeling better about yourself now?

Good. We’re back on an equal-ish footing. Imagine that there is a certain someone that can do a whole bunch of shit at the same time, and they appear to be able to do so rather easily.

Ballet

You may not be privy to the effort(s) that went into obtaining such skills. This is likely why hierarchical systems tend to develop in the way(s) that they do. Some dumb kid stumbles into the world knowing more than they should, and they are prolly going to have a rough life trying to survive in a hierarchical system, especially if they aren’t picked up somewhere along the way.

“Along the way” better fucking well be before the age of 18 in our time(s), because we seem to stress “getting them while they are young.” Even if they do get found, they are likely going to be subjected to all kinds of expectation. They may wind up being a complete burnout by the age of 18 because they were found. We are sometimes big on solidifying our bases, and will not hesitate to replace a brick that doesn’t carry its own weight.

Wait...since when are people bricks?
^Dennis Cruz – El Sueño (feat Martina Camargo)^

White Freightliner.

Volvo/White.

I wonder how often a truck needs washing?

Really? Who doesn’t want a magical girl?

    Sounds creepy when worded like that.

Air vent.

Classic games.

UPC Symbols.

White Rhino.

Marriage?

Or Marri J?

No one can decide what a dinosaur is?

Someone recently asked me “what those black lines were on the pavement”.

Noblesville Evacuation
A: Tar.

The “nce/Nature” had some kind of something yesterday, but it’s gone now.

Is there a significance to the contents of the hour glass? Most of the images are going to have a familiar flair to them. I mean, you’ve gotta stop and ask yourself just how familiar you are with periodicals. If you are someone that frequents a bookstore that sells a wide selection of periodicals, and you yourself are the type to browse the periodical isle/section, you are likely going to be familiar with many of the titles, logos, colors, shit like that. And so, if you also frequent a grocery store that has a periodical aisle, you are likely going to have some mental contrasts between the bookstore and grocery store and what they carry. Not to mention that some stores may let shit sit on a shelf for a while, while others may not. I recently took a pretty cool pic of Mary while visiting my sister in Austin. Didn’t know it was Mary at the time, but kinda suspected it, and the pic was pretty cool.

^Pendulum – Tarantula [HD]^

Scorpion or archer. I answered both, because I’ve owned several bows in my lifetime, and was actually pretty good with them. So with respect to starting points, I guess it’s as good as any to let you know a bit about me. Dunno why anyone would want to know about me, but yeah, I’m a Scorpio who is fairly good at archery.

Me, me, me, me, me.
Me, me, me, me.
Me, me, me.
Me, me.
Me.

So…what’s up with you?

I need to know.
^Jay Lumen – Sunbeam (Original Mix) – Noir Music^

Vagaries or anything vague is going to be kinda scary. This might have the effect of cascading. You don’t know what to make of what you are experiencing, so how can you be expected to relate it? Especially if the only people you have to relate your experience to/with are judgmental. I mean, they just want to get you fixed so you can be back to your normal happy and productive self.

As far as a redux, I dunno what to tell you. I’ve no program to sell, and don’t subscribe to assigning a value to something in order to somehow reinforce or substantiate its worth. When I first read the story of how Morgellon’s got named, who named it, and why?

Kinda crushing.

So if my reason(s) and method(s) seem too altruistic, I gotta know…

Q: What’s wrong with being altruistic?

A: ¿?

I’ve no answers.

I'm not psychic either.
^CHVRCHES – Miracle (Official Video)^
Let's talk about knots.

If you’ve got 25% of the matter in the Universe encapsulated within a knot in time, not all of that matter will loop. Some will loop, and some will be in a holding pattern of sorts. If you think in terms of Purgatory, maybe that will help to make our “time knot” make more sense, but I’m likely about to freak you out with that same notion. So yeah, part of the matter loops, part does not. In the case of “big bang” followed by “big crunch”, the matter will reorganize in an identical loop, but not all of it. If you think in terms of “data preservation”, this might explain why a certain someone may or may not know something at the same time that they knew previously.

Loop 01: Subject A knew about a certain something on November 12th of 2017.

Loop 02: Subject A did not know about the same certain something on November 12th of 2017.

Loop 03: Subject A knew about the same certain something on November 12th of 2019.

Loop 04: Subject A was born without a head on November 15th of 1967.

Loop 05: Subject A knew about the same certain something on November 11th of 1973.

If a particle of matter does not manifest in the exact same way every time, the next iteration will differ. Did your understanding of “alternate universes” and/or “alternate realities” just take a turn? Or was I too vague, because it’s about to get worse.

^Paul Van Dyk – For an angel (Original mix) [HD]^

Let’s imagine that our time knot iterates every 10,000 years.

Q: How in the FUCK can a chunk of a 14 billion year old universe iterate every 10,000 years?!?!?!?

A: Simple...we're talking data preservation, and how that data is preserved, reorganized, destroyed, recreated, all kinds of crazy shit.

I’ll have to get to more detailed shit as to how certain dynamics can accomplish this as I go.

So yeah…a chunk of The Universe “big bangs” every 10k years, collapses in on itself, then does the whole thing over again and again. Small changes here and there can have unintended consequences, but it’s basically the stew-pot where universal dynamics are tested and re-tested over and over again.

Like a sandbox.

Anyway, we’ve got someone within this realm that needs to know a certain something, and they need to know this certain something by a certain time. So say, if our person needed to know this certain something by Jul 24th of 2035, and yet that someone was stillborn in 1967 of the current iteration…

Q: How long does the iteration have to run before resetting?

A: A long fucking time.

Roughly 2,000 years, but due to the nature of knots, it could be as long as 11,000 years depending on how uniform the time distortions are.

How could this be possible?

Welp, like I said, it’s going to take some explaining. But the short answer is, sometimes shit works out the way it does. Someone may remember stuff from previous iterations, but not know how they know it.

Who does someone like this turn to?

Welp, if they turn to science, they are going to be laughed at. If they turn to medicine, they are likely going to be medicated and/or locked up. If they turn to religion, they are likely going to be told that they are cursed or possessed. If they turn to metaphysics, they are likely going to be told that they’ve been reincarnated and used to be someone famous in a previous life. The person in question is likely going to know that all of that is wrong.

So...where does our person turn?
^Cocteau Twins – Alice (Deep Space Remix)^

So yeah, if you ask me about alternate realities and/or universes, I understand what you are talking about. I just have some different ideas as to what they are, why they are, where they are, and how they operate. The “sweet spot” would be either:

A) don’t get into a time knot, or

B) if you do get in one, pray you never know that you are in one.

I’ve seen and devised some very destructive methods of utilizing infinities within and through time. Knots are the scariest of all. They’ve a weird linear/looping nature that can run in so many simultaneous directions, and do so for so many iterations that may last from micro-seconds to eons, and do so within the constructs of a set period of time.

10,000 years in this instance.

So you are likely wondering, how could something that loops every 10,000 years contain elements that last only microseconds or eons? I dunno…ask science. They seem to think they have a bead on “event driven” things. OK so, I won’t bail that easily. Lemme do another section.

^DMK: “Everything Counts”^

If you’ve got a knot, and part of the matter does not manifest as it should, where it should, when it should, it may take billions of years to get that matter back to where it needs to be, when it should be there, as it should be.

What would be the purpose of this “time knot”?

Funny that purpose would suddenly come up. We tend to deal in absolutes, not purpose.

Absolute chance…

absolute fate…

absolute absolutes.

Absolut vodka would come in real fucking handy right about now.

Think it’s easy for me to think about this shit? To talk about this shit?

You'd be wrong.

Seeing shit like this transpire in my head can be overwhelming. I can speed it up, I can slow it down, I can run it at any number of speeds from virtually any and all perspectives. To relate, think of a pulsar. With every single pulse of the image above, I can destroy and recreate the entirety of this particular knot. I can stop it here, speed it up there, but all under the auspices of finding where a particular issue lay within the knot. It could be as massive as a star, or as finite as a grain of sand on some distant planet. But when dealing with matter in this volume, virtually everything is finite.

That may sound contradictory, but it’s knot.

Everything is precious…

from the first drop, to the last.

^CHVRCHES – Lies^

I don’t expect any of that to make sense. But I am sure there are those that will likely understand what I am talking about just fine. I don’t think that I am the only person that has ever thought about shit like this, but I do know that the experience of thinking about it can be difficult.

One of the drawbacks of time for those of us that ponder it.

Do I really think things like this exist?

Yep.

Do I really think that there is someone out there who would think such a thing like this up?

Yep.

And before you get too uppity with the ethics, keep in mind that you’ll likely make all kinds of decisions with respect to other lives, and not think twice about it. You’ve likely wished death upon someone just because they’ve cut you off in traffic. You’ll likely try and get someone fired just because they fucked your order up at the drive-thru. Unless you are not like that, in which case, good for you.

What we do, matters.
^The Crystal Method – Weapons Of Mass Distortion^

Look at it like this…

you’ve always wanted to rule the world…

right?

Maybe if you are stuck in a time-knot, and things work out correctly in one of the iterations, you’ll get your chance. Good luck.

Time...we already have all there is.
^Alice | Pogo^

cYa | cFa

^Deadmau5 – Strobe (1080p) || HD^

*******

We hope you enjoyed that, Dear Reader. Now Clicky and me are off to watch synchronized Hornblower with the Okie Devil…

Have a Song 😉