Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Arial navigation solutions


I've found a solution to the temporary misplacement that I griped about in my last post: Portable crop circles!




Just position one of these specially grown trays of cress (of which only I hold the patent, so don't even think about stealing my idea) over the ley line of your choice, and the seedlings should form a navigational circle to facilitate an expedient journey.

The idea came to me after stories of Pewsey Ogg's watercress circle reached me. Sometimes the simplest solutions are the best. Although, there's not a lot of room for detail, so the 'circles can't give much information, but at least they'll get you home. Of course, one has to be able to 'read' crop circles first...

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Crop circle navigation


Oh, there you all are! Your Demon Boxes caught up, then?

This post is a bit of a gripe, to be honest. It's all because I got temporarily misplaced* the other day while flying back from Indescribable's...

There was I perched elegantly on Broom, ascending to 8000 feet hoping to rise above the thickening cumulus clouds, and therefore the rain, when I was rudely intercepted by a couple of yobs on a hoe. They came careering out of the clo
ud cover, yelling and jeering, and not taking a blind bit of notice of where they were headed. Unfortunately, their heading was me. I scrunched my eyes shut and swerved, gunning Broom's acceleratrix and altitudonator, just about managing to soar upwards and out of their erratic flight path. It was a close call as they rocketted past - So close that I could smell the stench of sweat and absinthe that emanated from them.
I opened my eyes just in time to notice the clouds at point blank range before hurtling into the damp puff of white with a very delicate whumph.
Eventually, Broom carried me up and out of the cumulus cloud, moist and squinting from the glaring reflected sunlight. I skimmed along the top for
what seemed an age before the cloud fell away beneath me, revealing land far below. Land that I didn't recognise. Bugger.
Slowing down, I scanned the farmland beneath me from horizon to horizon, looking for a sign that I recognised. After ten minutes or so, I saw what I was looking for way off to the south-west, and arced around towards it.
As I got closer, I realised that my target was not what I expected:


A crop circle that told me nothing. Nothing! It was a fake! Genuine crop circles are utilised by the arial denizens of Cusp, and those of us - let's just say "not quite alive" - in the more mortal realm, as a navigation aid when venturing further afield than our normal local air-space.
After the air around me had gone back to normal following its blue turn, and still almost incandescent with rage, I headed north-east towards what looked like a grey ripple in the landscape that I hoped was a road. It was!
Luckily, dusk had fallen by this time, so I descended far enough to see the road signs, hoping that no one below could see me in the falling darkness. Nearing a sign on the east-bound carriageway, I noticed that I was only a couple of miles from Devizes (must have been named after an ancestor). Drat! I was hundreds of miles off course. Bloody Warlocks!
And bloody crop circle hoaxers! They think they're so clever creating their ever more elaborate signs, but they're not clever enough to realise that some of us rely on crop circles for navigation and that their uppance will come.

And don't even mention those blasted aliens and their tawdry copies!


* Definitely not lost. Witches never get something as common as lost!


Sunday, October 18, 2009

Stand by...


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You have been timed out because your demon box is too slow. Please try again later.



Friday, October 09, 2009

Feem toon*


Today is the fourth anniversary of my arrival in the 21st century, and in The Host. It is also the fourth anniversary of this blog. Now, due to a combination of innate laziness and (when not being lazy) being VERY busy in Castle DeVice with wallpapering and the like, I haven't prepared the post I would have liked to mark this momentous occasion. Instead, you'll have to put up with this one, in which I ask you this:

What would be your theme tune? Either yours personally or your blog's.

After much deliberation - OK, it was the first thing that popped into my head - this is the official theme to Inexplicable DeVice, witch and blog:



Although, I'm hoping for a few more lives after my next untimely demise, in whichever century I may find myself in.



* for SP (if I ever let him read this blog).

Thursday, October 08, 2009

Bookend (the middle bit, and not a Trek book in sight!)


Remember I said I was going on holiday? Well, I went.

And read some books!


These are them:



Trillions, by Nicholas Fisk

This childrens - or, young adult, I should say - story, is a surprisingly chilling tale.

In a small town, a peculiar rain of tiny, multi-faceted, toroidal objects fall. Millions of them. Billions. Trillions! Within hours, they have fallen all over the world. Initially, they appear benign, but soon start to link together forming copies of manmade objects, including tanks, missiles and bombs. One boy finds a way to communicate with them. He asks what humans should do for the Trillions and they reply: Hate us.

I love this book so much! I first read it years ago when I was a boy and have read it many times since. Even though I know the story inside out, I still get something new from it with every read.



The Indispensible Calvin & Hobbes, a treasury of Revenge of the Baby-Sat and Scientific Progress Goes 'Boink' by Bill Watterson.

Ahhhh... A lovely, funny,
absorbing collection of comic strips. I don't think I need say any more.




The Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy, by Douglas Adams.

I'd recently watched the film and had found the book stuffed in the wardrobe in the spare bedroom. Anyway, I decided I'd read it on holiday to see how it differed from the TV series I'd watched as a teenager, and from the film too. The film turned out to be a surprisingly faithful adaptation except for Zaphod Beeblebrox keeping Earth's destruction from Trillian (not to be confused with the Trillions from up there ^), and the Heart of Gold's detour to that planet of sneeze worshipers. I was surprised to learn that SP hadn't even read it, despite having owned it for years!


The Lord Of The Flies, the Nobel Prize for literature winning book by William Golding.

I remember reading this book at school and rather liking it - One of the few enforced reads back then that I did enjoy. About five or six years ago, I found this on Indescribable's bookshelf amd decided to 'borrow' it. And now, finally, it's been read!


And that's it for now. I hope to be back tomorrow as it's the fourth anniversary of this blog and also of securing The Host as, well, my host! Of course, laziness could kick in, in which case I'll see you some other time.

Monday, October 05, 2009

Splosh!


As predicted, Antenna turned up at the sea hag's lair, ranting and wailing.
"Oh, my dear, whatever is the matter?" Insulin asked, feigning concern and welcoming the over made-up young merpoof into her home. In between sobs, he told her how he'd rescued Prince Eros only to have him snatched away by Princess Ponita at the last minute. Insulin tried to stifle her yawns of boredom and look interested.
"Well, it seems to me that you'll have to go back out there and get your prince back."
"But how?!" Antenna whined. "I can't leave the sea."
"Oh, but you can. With this" and Insulin held up a vial containing a syrupy gold liquid. "This potion will split your tail in two and transform it into legs fit to seduce any mortal man." Antenna gazed at the proffered potion with a mixture of awe and trepidation. "But there is a price" the sea hag added, snatching the vial away from him.
"What kind of price? I've already spent this month's allowance on poppers and cake."
"Ah, the price is not a material thing. For this potion, I require your tongue!"

"My tongue? Is that all?" Antenna fished around in his handbag until he found what he was looking for and thrust it at Insulin.
The sea hag recoiled in disgust at the worn and discoloured sex aid that had obviously had waaaaaay too much use.
"Eeeyeuch! No, I said not a material thing! Ewww!" Antenna hurriedly shoved the tongue back in his purse, looking shifty and not meeting Insulin's eyes. "No, I meant your singing voice!"
Antenna's demeanor changed at the perceived compliment, not realising his voice wasn't all that he thought it to be.
"My beautiful voice?" A look approaching smugness flitted across his face. So wrapped up was he at the thought of someone appreciating his talent, that he was oblivious to Insulin's eye-rolling.
"Now, listen" Insulin instructed, snapping him out of his thoughts. "You're to seduce the prince and get him to drink this" and her eel-servants produced another vial, this one contained a clear, slightly shimmering liquid. "His lungs will turn to gills so you can bring him back here where I will complete his transformation into a merman." Always one for the theatre of a situation, she added: "And you're to bring him to me by the next full moon, which" she said glancing at her almanac, "is tomorrow!"
Antenna's eyes widened in shock at the task set for him as he took the vials. He opened his mouth to gasp, too, but with sleight of hand, Insulin snipped his tongue off and held it triumphantly aloft.
"Now, go!" she thundered. "Leave my sight and do not return without that prince!"
From the corner, FlotPig and JetTaz hissed at him, narrowing their wonky eyes as they writhed disturbingly together. Still in shock, Antenna swam out of the dark lair as quickly as he could, heading for shore.

~ ~ ~

Hours later, as the sun hung heavy over the horizon, the little merpoof hauled himself out onto the beach below the royal palace. Having nothing to lose, he took the stopper out of the vial and gulped down the thick golden liquid like a pro.

A cool tingle suffused his body, a pleasantly refreshing feeling. Antenna smiled to himself, but a moment too soon. With a horribly embarrassing squelching sound, rather like a particularly wet queef*, his long tail pulled itself apart, forming into human legs complete with absolutely stunning Jimmy Choos.
"Oooooooooh!" he uttered, gazing in awe at his svelte legs and awe inspiring shoes.
Getting to his newly acquired feet, Antenna Bambi-walked over the sandy beach to the path that led up the cliff to the palace. By the time he'd reached the path, he'd almost mastered the art of walking. And by the time he reached the cliff top, his sashaying couldn't be faulted. A remarkable achievement considering how difficult it is to walk in sensible shoes over sand and up rocky cliff paths!
As he approached the palace, he saw the object of his affection topless and leaning on a balcony overlooking the sea. Antenna waved madly, but the cowboy-prince didn't notice and returned to his room. Stamping his foot petulantly, Antenna eyed the burly guards at the magnificent main doors and decided against trying to slip past them. Instead, he began to climb the trellis that led up to his prince's balcony. Yes, in Jimmy Choos!
Nearing the balcony, Antenna heard music. The Moon's A Window To Heaven if he wasn't very much mistaken. He attempted to haul himself over the balustrade, but caught a heel in some greenery, overbalanced and grabbed a couple of palm leaves to steady himself before falling unceremoniously onto his bum when they detached from the potted palms they were previously affixed to.
"Oof!" he said.
"What the-?" came the surprised voice of Prince Eros, and he rushed out to see what the commotion was about. Thinking quickly, Antenna put the palm leaves to what he hoped to be a seductive good use.



"Ummm..." said Prince Eros, clearly not enthralled.
Antenna sagged in despair and began to explain himself. Or tried to.
"I o'ee woh'e 'oo-" He clapped his hand over his tongueless mouth as he remembered too late that Insulin had taken it.
Panicking, he blundered into the prince's room and started flicking desperately through the TV channels until he found something that would do.


 
Prince Eros looked confused. 
Antenna just looked dejected until he spied the cowboy-prince's beer on his side table and remembered the other vial. Surreptitiously, Antenna found the vial in the depths of his handbag and dropped the contents into the beer, all the while grinning insanely in an attempt to look casual and non-stalker-like. 
The planets must have aligned or something, as Prince Eros took the proffered beer and downed it without a second thought. 
Antenna's mad, gurning grin suddenly faded and was replaced with a look of concern as he wondered how long it would take the potion to work. Would he have enough time to lure Prince Eros to the sea before his lungs became gills? 
The question became moot as another problem arose.  
Well, maybe it's not such a problem after all Antenna thought as the cowboy-prince's eyes glazed over and he advanced on the little merpoof, led by something arising that definitely wasn't a problem! 

At the same time, in her shadowy gloom-filled lair, the sea hag Insulin screamed in rage at her useless eel-servants, FlotPig and JetTaz, for their ineptitude. 
In her tentacles she held the potion to turn lungs to gills - found amongst the flotsam and jetsam of their foetid nest. The vial given to the wretched little merpoof, Antenna, she had realised, contained her supply of Rohypnol-laced Viagra!

 The End 


  * I've recently seen that South Park episode with the female equivalent of Terrence & Philip introducing fanny farts to the masses, mmkay?!
 

Friday, October 02, 2009

Splash


"And where in the seven hells have you two been, eh?" Insulin,the cecaelian sea hag, bellowed at the return of FlotPig and JetTaz, her (sometimes) faithful eel-servants. "It's nearly 9:00 am and I've had to make my own morning cocktail!"
"Mistress MJ- I mean, Mistress Insulin, we've found something for your collection" FlotPig oinked. A new houseboy! In fact, you could say he's a prince amongst houseboys."
"'e's fookin' gorgeous, is what 'e is" JetTaz added with a filthy look on his face.
"Well, don't just tell me about him" Insulin said angrily, grabbing the eels in two of her inky black tentacles, "show, me!" She held the eels before her, FlotPig's cloudy, milky eye next to JetTaz's, their good eyes facing outward. The eels' pearlescent eyes whirled hypnotically together showing the sea hag what they'd witnessed that night.
Insulin viewed the scenes as if she was there instead of her eel-servants. She saw the great ship as it was buffetted by the storm. She stared enrapt at the soaking wet, muscular cowboy-prince before, at the edge of her vision, something slithered off the heaving deck of the ship and into the roiling sea. It was this distraction that enabled her to notice the mermaid also staring at the cowboy-prince, but from a nearer vantage point. A closer look revealed the 'maid was actually Antenna, the cross-dressing son of that beastly king who ruled this watery realm. She tutted in disgust but continued to watch. The creaking ship was scuppered by the storm and the prince was retrieved from the depths by the dratted hydrapoof and carried away towards the shore.
After the eels had fast-forwarded the interminably long and boring trip to shore, Insulin watched from above the waves as Antenna pushed the prince onto the sand before retreating to some semi-submerged rocks to gaze at him. About 30 seconds later, Insulin's patience wore out and she barked at the eels.
"How much longer before he wakes up? Fast-forward it again."
JetTaz sighed but obediently did as his mistress commanded. Insulin continued to watch.

Antenna, bored of staring longingly at the unconscious cowboy-prince, was applying a second coat of nail varnish by the light of the rising sun, and therefore missed the impressive rousing of the object of his affection. He also missed the cowboy-prince wake up!
Standing up, facing the sun over the sea like a naked bronze statue, the prince stretched and yawned, giving Insulin more than an eyeful of his mighty salute to the sun. She was too engrossed in the spectacle to wonder when Antenna had removed all of his clothes, and what might have transpired when the de-robing occurred. What did recapture her attention, however, was the arrival of a young* woman on horseback.

"Howdy, ma'am" the cowboy-prince drawled, hastily covering his far-from-modest modesty with a couple of handfuls of seaweed. "I'm Prince Eros. My ship was was scuppered in the storm last night and... Well, I woke up here just now."
"Howdy, indeed" replied the woman, agog. She recovered enough to regain her composure. "Umm... I mean: Oh, how dreadful! I am Princess Ponita, the Ponygirl. We've been recovering your men through the night and feared you had drowned since no one had seen you after your ship went down. Here" she said, gesturing for Eros to mount behind her, "take me- I mean: Let me take you to our castle to rest and rejoin your men."
"Why, thank you, your highness." Prince Eros leapt up behind her, inadvertantly poking her in her back.
"We'll have none of that" Princess Ponita affected prudishly, but grinned salaciously to herself, her thoughts matching her grin!
It was at this moment that Antenna finished applying the nail varnish and happened to look up. What she he saw filled him with rage, so much so that he dived off the rocks and swam to the beach, shouting at the princess.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing? He's mine!"
"Yeah, sure, so why's he coming back to my place?" she yelled back.
"Probably because he's so stunned at your hideous leatherette dress that he lost all his senses!"

The two of them continued to trade thinly veiled insults and sarcasm over the shoreline.


And with that, Princess Ponita turned her horse and galloped up the beach, Prince Eros holding on, wondering just what he was letting himself in for.
Antenna stared after them in outrage. How dare that trollop steal away his man! And after all the effort he'd gone to to rescue the gorgeous prince. If only he hadn't been so intent on his make-up. The thought of it upset him and it wasn't long before the tears started. Sniffling, Antenna began to sing a mournful song, oblivious to a passing boat's crew flinging themselves overboard to drown rather than listen to any more:




Insulin watched all this intently, a plan forming in her mind as to how to obtain the studly prince for her houseboy collection.




To be continued...


* ish