Inexplicable DeVice

Cusp Trek II: The Lust of IDV

2009-11-10T00:01:00.017Z

or: A Tale Of Two Tims

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…"

Two Tims? It's the bloody best of times, then!
I'll say. Rawr!
Shush! We'd better let Witchface get on with it otherwise we'll be here all day.

In a sealed room in Castle DeVice, some of the Flying Monkeys had been working on the SpinTwist Portal, a new fangled but somewhat eldritch teleportation contraption. Suddenly, a wall that turned out to be massive doors split open spilling bright light into the smokey room. A tall slender figure appeared from within the light, walking forwards until it becomes recognisable as a witch. The witch flinches as the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog lunges out of the smoke, but luckily it tears past and into the depths of the castle.

"Hmmm..." I said, surveying the corpses littering the room and adjusting my hat. Stooping, I nudged one of the fallen 'Monkeys with my boot. Not to my surprise, it grunted.
"Are you sure you're dead?" I asked.
Silence greeted me.
"Hmm?" I prompted again.
"Of course I'm dead" hissed the corpse. Another fallen 'Monkey to the left groaned in dismay, then remembered it's supposed to be sans life and stopped.
"Fine. Suit yourselves, then" I snapped, turning on my heels and heading towards the shadowy controls of the SpinTwist Portal.
"He has evaded me for long enough" I muttered to myselves through gritted teeth. "And I don't care if it is his birthday." I flailed wildly at the switches until Tim's image appeared within the targeting sensor. "Excellent!" I crowed.
With a few more deft flicks of my fingers, followed by a mechanical hum that crescendoed to a coruscating electronic warble, Tim coalesced on the platform before me, having untwisted out of thin air. He appeared to be wearing black boots, red athletic leggings and nothing else. Oh, yes!
He gazed around him, a look of wonder on his handsome face. Then he caught sight of himself in the reflective shielding around the platform just as I stepped out of the shadows towards him.
"Rawr!" he growled, flexing his muscles and grinning at his buff reflection.
* faints *

* faints *
* faints *

* fai- *
"I've got you" Tim declared, catching me easily in one arm. I looked up into his cheeky yet sexy face and:
* -nts *

"What'd you go and give it away for, Beast?" MJ seethed after Tim had carried me out of the room.
"I told you he wouldn't care if we were alive or dead" Beast said. "I knew we wouldn't get a look in - It's always about him and that Tim. And now he's proved it."
"Oh, that didn't prove anything. This story's only just got going. Besides" she sniffed smugly, "I always get a starring roll" and she rolled her eyes in derision at Beast.
Suddenly, the contraption clanked to life again. Another rabbit - this one placid and cute - materialised on the platform in the centre of the room where Tim and then the vicious Rabbit of Caerbannog had originally appeared. And a few moments later, the machine sputtered into life once more, depositing another unexpected guest.
"That was unexpected" MJ said. This time Beast rolled his eyes then leaned over and stroked the fluffy white bunny, studiously ignoring the semi-naked man who staggered off the platform and out of the room.

I came to with my face pressed against a rather familiar bulge. Hello! I squinted upwards, attempting to confirm my suspicion before letting the bulge's owner realise I was awake. My gaze travelled up, skimming the chiseled six-pack, ascending the impressive fuzzy chest and over the clenched jaw to - Ding, dong! - Yes, my suspicions had been confirmed. My saviour really was Tim!
My gasp of surprise gave me away. Naturally.
"Ah. You're awake" he observed, raising an eyebrow and smiling from the corner of his mouth.
"Uhhhh..." I drooled, but hastily wiped it up. "Um. Yes. Where are we?" I asked, somewhat confused at the pink and purple clouds of sunset racing by the edge of my vision and the wind whistling past my ears, and trying not to leer.
"We're on Broom in pursuit of my duplicate" Tim answered matter-of-factly.
Two Tims? I marvelled to myself at the possibilities as I hauled myself into a sitting position in front of Tim on Broom's shaft.
"Your... Your duplicate?"
"Yes" and the affirmation was filled with sexual intrigue. "It seems your SpinTwist Portal was infected with a strange magnetic type of ore - probably brought up with one of your test subjects -" Tim explained, "and malfunctioned, creating an evil duplicate of whatever was teleported next."
"An evil duplicate? But why are we after this other Tim? I mean" I continued before Tim could answer, "I know why I'd chase after him, but why would you? Unless you're trying to prevent him from getting up to no good?"
"Chuh!" he scoffed. "Haven't you seen how studly I am? I want me as much as you do!"
"Ah, so you're the evil Tim." He grinned and I marvelled to myself again just as we entered the clouds.
"Hang on a minute. Why are we chasing him on Broom?"
"Because he escaped from your castle on... Well, on another form of aerial transportation."
"But I don't have the spare Broom anymore" I wondered, trying to think of what he could have used. "And Poppins took her brolly back ages ago... Unless-"
"Yes" Tim interjected, clearly a bit miffed. "He got away on that vacuum cleaner that was gathering dust in your broom cupboard."
I rolled my eyes and berated myself for not getting rid of the damn thing at last year's vacuum amnesty at the Classic Broom Show. If only I hadn't been so lazy and actually bothered to take it, rather than lounge about in the garden slowly pickling myself in wine.
"Shit" I said.
"Oh, we're never going to find him in cloud this thick" Tim moaned. "Full stop" he ordered, and Broom came to a halt. "Z minus one thousand meters."
Broom descended gracefully through the various cloud layers. I was very impressed at Tim's piloting skills: He'd mastered Broom's little foibles easily and handled the old thing effortlessly.
We came to a gentle stop in a break in the clouds. They encircled us in bands of pink and gold, lit by the almost set sun. It would have been a lovely setting to 'get to know each other' but unfortunately, we were rudely interrupted.

From below and behind, a figure astride a vacuum cleaner rose through the clouds. It was the other Tim and he wasn't in such good control of his transportation as this one.
"Yaaaaaargh!" he yelled, crossing his arms in front of his pretty face as he careered towards us.
"Shiiiiiit!" Tim swore as he attempted to manoeuvre Broom out of the way, but was too late.
The vacuum cleaner sideswiped Broom, it's hose caught on some bristles ripping them out of their binding as we veered away.
"Oops! Sorry!" Other Tim shouted across the widening gulf. "Well, not that sorry. I heard you back at the castle and what you were planning to do with me and my muscular buttocks."
"Oh, you'd love it" Tim shouted back as he wrestled with Broom's trajectory. "You know you want to!"
"Urgh. Vom!"
"Oh, come off it. I know you. I am you! You totally would."
"I would not! Well... Maybe with you, but certainly not with IDV!"
"There's no need to be rude, dear!" I yelled back. "If it's just the fact that I'm male, I could always drop into a new body?"

"Fine!" I huffed, but didn't have time for a full-on pout as we were rapidly losing altitude. "We're going down" I declared without resorting to raising my eyebrow to force the innuendo any further.
"I know" Tim grunted, his look of disappointment mirrored my own as we realised that sex wasn't going to be forthcoming. "Can't you do anything?"
"Well, I haven't got Wand, so there's no way to discharge thaumic energy into Broom to keep us airborne" I almost wailed. "Wait! There is a way! But-"
"I know. I just hoped we'd have more time together."
"Noooooooooooo!" I cried as Tim gripped my Broom's shaft firmly then shoved his other hand right up my the bristles. He was attempting to realign the bristles - A dangerous job when at rest, but pretty much fatal while in flight.
"Remember..." I whispered to him as I touched his face in a certain way.
He looked at me, his eyes alight with thaumic energies as his body dissolved in a magical fire that was absorbed into the bristles. Broom surged with power and broke out of the headlong plummet. Before he had fully dissipated, Tim spoke:
"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."

To be continued. At some point...

"Well!" MJ sniffed. "Was that all I got?"
Beast had nearly bitten his own fist off in an attempt not to laugh.
"Hmmph!" she huffed and stormed out.

Cusp Trek: The old black & white talkie

2009-11-08T21:25:00.003Z

Testing... Testing...

Ah, good. The continuity buffers are up to speed.

Right. Don't get your hopes up for much happening here. I've only posted this for continuity purposes. Nothing much happens in the first one, anyway - It's just to set the scene.
And the scene is this: It's someone's birthday on Tuesday, so be sure to pop back then for a journey over the Cusp...

Here're some I made earlier

2009-11-03T20:07:00.005Z

A Hallowe'en Stalking

2009-10-31T17:59:00.000Z

Arial navigation solutions

2009-10-27T18:24:00.000Z

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...

Crop circle navigation

2009-10-20T17:24:00.001+01:00

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 cloud 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!

Stand by...

2009-10-18T00:06:00.000+01:00

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Please stand by...

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loadi-

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

Feem toon*

2009-10-09T17:23:00.001+01:00

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).

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

2009-10-08T17:56:00.002+01:00

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.

Splosh!

2009-10-05T21:48:00.001+01:00

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?!

Splash

2009-10-02T14:39:00.001+01:00

"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

Splish

2009-09-29T00:01:00.001+01:00

Happy birthday, CyberPete! Here's your cak-

* trip *

* splat *

Drat!

~ ~ ~

I knew it wasn't going to be a good day when I tripped over and found myself flat on my face. I lifted my head to discover that things weren't just bad, they were worse... Not Brown Jelly Baby worse, thank gods. No, Cusp Interface worse, which explained the stinging sensation.
Grumbling, I attempted to get to my feet. A difficult task when the wooden floor I was sprawled on kept moving up and down. It was then I realised that it was going to be more difficult getting to my feet than I first thought. Because I didn't have any. Blast!
Instead of legs and feet, I had a good six feet of fish tail. Conger eel, if I wasn't very much mistaken. Tutting, I had a good look around. I appeared to be on an old fashioned sailing ship judging by the wooden construction and the alarming pitching and rolling. I slithered to my left and peered through a wooden railing. There, approximately 20 feet below me, was the sea. No, make that 10 feet. Actually, 17. No, 8. 22. 10 again.
A flash of lightning illuminated the surrounding water. Great. We were in the midst of a storm, complete with roiling sea and -Ow!- hailstones. Feeling quite battered and sick, I slithered back to the railing and wriggled through it, plunging into the cold, heaving sea.

Surfacing, I watched as the great ship struggled against the storm. Men swarmed over the decks and rigging, attempting to secure the sails and batten down the hatches, or whatever it was that sailors did in these circumstances. Amongst all the to-ing and fro-ing stood a solitary man dressed only in chaps, a brocaded T-shirt and a cowboy hat. A cowboy-prince? He appeared to be directing the other men, pointing and shouting above the noise of the storm. His T-shirt was soaked and, distractingly, clung to his rather impressive body!
Beams of light from the portholes drew my attention to two or three objects bobbing up and down amongst the waves not far from me. Rather maddeningly, the lightning had ceased it's stabbing in the dark so I couldn't make out what they were. And one of the objects appeared to be singing Come Into My World by Kylie Minogue, and not altogether in tune! I waited as patiently as I could for some lightning to illuminate them - I didn't want to swim over in case it was something awful, like a siren-mine or a crazed fan. After what seemed like half an hour, but was more likely two minutes, I tired of being patient and resorted to witchcraft to summon the lightning. A spell guaranteed to bring forth the electrical force formed in my mind. There were no words, only actions: I threw back my head and gave an evil laugh, a la T-Bag.
The storm conceded and a bright fork of lightning coursed through the evening sky illuminating what appeared to be mermaid/man versions of 'Petra and Piggy & Tazzy! 'Petra (the singer - somewhat obviously in hindsight) was gooily ogling the buff prince while P&T also had their sights set on him, and were rubbing themselves disturbingly.
Unfortunately, the lightning struck the ship, igniting the gunpowder for the cannons, blowing it to smithereens. Oops!

I ducked under the surface so as not to be clonked in the head by ship-based projectiles and watched from the depths as bits of ship and man rained slowly down through the cold, dark water. Occasionally, a whole man drifted by. One of them caught the 'Petra-mermaid's eye - Well, I imagine the muscles and gold brocade caught his eye - It was the cowboy-prince. He darted after him and carried him up to the surface and away...

To be continued...

Poofiest Yorkshire

2009-09-26T22:25:00.001+01:00

And we're back. From holiday, that is.

Here's where we were:

View Larger Map

Actually, we stayed in a lodge on the edge of Carlton Miniott, just outside Thirsk (scroll left on the map along the A170 and A61). The GoogleMap shows where most of the photos were taken. It centres on Low Town Bank Road, but we actually drove along the A170, up Sutton Bank and parked at the top before walking along a footpath that ran alongside a glider launch facility.
Here, look. I've snipped the map to show you:

Here're the pictures:

This is me and Moom. For continuity purposes I'm wearing the infamous striped top. Do your worst, MJ!

Between the trees is the aforementioned big cliff at the end of our walk.

This is our lodge. Actually, this is the one opposite ours - I never got around to taking a picture of ours. However, ours is the same as the one on the right, here.

Ah. Here's me in the hot tub outside our lodge. And, no, I hadn't been eating beans!

Hello, Dave.

2009-09-20T17:01:00.000+01:00

We are going away tomorrow to Poofiest Yorkshire. I doubt even our presence will make it noticeably more poofy as these two seem to have it pretty much sewn up.
Anyway (Piggy's favourite word), I thought I'd let you know as I'll be incommunicado for the next five days. And before you start, I realise that you'll hardly notice a difference!

Just as a warning: I'm going to leave my trusty Demon Box overseer to keep an eye on things in my absence. Mind you all behave yourselves, now!

Bookend (the one on the left)

2009-09-14T14:20:00.000+01:00

Hello, and welcome to another entry from the book-type ingredients. I'm not doing very well at reading this year, what with one thing and another. In fact, up until a month or so ago, I'd only managed to read two books: Star Trek Destiny: Lost Souls, and Making Money (see the last Book-themed post). Oh, I am also quite a long way through Bone - I know I started it ages ago, but it's a very long graphic novel, what with being the collected works etc, and I find that I have to be in the mood to read it. It is very engaging, though.

Anyway, back to the update. I've got through five books in the last month. Pretty good going for someones with less and less spare time. They are, as follows:

Star Trek Vanguard: Open Secrets, by Dayton Ward.

It follows on from Reap The Whirlwind, by David Mack, which I have just realised hasn't been a part of my Book posts. That means that last year I must have read 23 books, not 22!
It continues the tale of Starbase 47 and the discoveries within the Taurus Reach. Even though that looks like the Enterprise ("N-C-C 1-7-0-1. No bloody A, B, C, or D.") on the cover, it is actually the USS Endeavour (NCC 1895) defending the starbase from a Klingon attack.

Star Trek Destiny: Lost Souls, by David Mack; Star Trek: A Singular Destiny, by Keith R A DeCandido; and Star Trek Titan: Over A Torrent Sea, by Christopher L Bennett.

Lost souls is the final book of the Destiny series - The one I was really looking forward to at the end of last year. The other two are set after the events of Destiny and feature the United Federation of Planets getting to grips with the devastation wreaked by the Borg, and the continuing exploration of the galaxy.

Star Trek: Countdown, by Tim Jones, Mike Johnson, Roberto Orci & Alex Kurtzman with art by David Messina.

This is a graphic novel collecting the four prequel comics to Star Trek. Not a required read before you see the film, but it does give more information on why Nero is so intent on destroying the Federation. Plus, the Next Generation Crew feature to some extent.

Bridget Jones's Diary, by Helen Fielding.

Need I say more? Actually, this is the first time I've read the book since seeing the film years ago. For a while, as I read it, I kept imagining Renee Zellweger, Hugh Grant and Colin Firth as the characters in their respective roles, but, thank gods, they were soon replaced by the original characters I imagined when I first read this book!

And that's it for now. I'll probably do the bookend on the right at the end of the year.

Something something: Answer

2009-09-09T20:21:00.001+01:00

During an unexpected lull at work today, I found myself sifting through ancient emails and I found this meme. It's one I discovered years ago at Tornwordo's not long after I first started blogging. I copied it and emailed it to a few friends then lost it amongst hundreds of non-work related emails. This afternoon, it made a triumphant return!
I've left my (the Host's) original answers in place (in white) so you can see what I was like back in 2005, and reanswered some of them as of now. Enjoy!

1) My mother once: turned me upside down and smacked my back to stop me choking on a mint imperial.

2) Never in my life: have I french kissed a girl. Or done anything else to a girl for that matter.

3) When I was five: it was 1980/1.

4) High school was/is: not very memorable.

5) I will never forget: that I am short sighted.

6) I once met: Pam St.Clement (Pat from Eastenders) when she came to the cafe where I worked in my teens. I made her a fried egg sandwich - glam, eh? Jonathan Del Arco, AKA Hugh Borg, in a lift in Leicester.

7) There's this person I know who: is the most ham-fisted cow I've ever met. You know who you are :)

8) Once, at a bar: I found a fiver.

9) By noon I'm usually: starving.

10) Last night I: had a quiet night in, bathing and reading. Actually, I did last night, too. I'm nothing if not predictable, it seems.

11) If only I had: immortality.

12) Next time I go to church/temple: I'll try not to burst into flames as I cross the threshold.

13) Terri Schiavo: Who? I still have no idea who she is.

14) I like: standing outside in the rain (as long as I'm not going anywhere).

15) When I turn my head left, I see: ivory woodchip. A wardrobe.

16) When I turn my head right, I see: a dining room in need of a make over. Out of the window to the trees encircling the park opposite our house.

17) You know I'm lying when: you catch me out.

18) In junior school: I tickled a boy so much that he wet himself.

19) If I was a character written by Shakespeare: I'd be very surprised.

20) By this time next year I: hope I've done something to change my life. I hadn't, of course. Still haven't unless one counts meeting SP.

21) A better name for me would be: The Boy Who Wished His Life Away.

22) I have a hard time understanding: how people can be so thoughtless.

23) If I ever go back to school, I'll: stick out like a sore thumb.

24) You know I like you if: I spend time with you by choice.

25) If I won an award, the first person I'd thank would be: whoever supported me doing whatever it was that got me the award.

26) I hope that: I don't end up found three weeks later half eaten by alsations. As long as SP lasts the distance, this one shouldn't come to pass.

27) Take my advice: don't jump to conclusions.

28) My ideal breakfast is: one brought to me in bed by a half naked, sexy man - step forward Connor Trinneer. Or Jake Gyllenhaal/Eddie Cibrian/Seann William Scott etc... Oh, or SP.

29) A song I love but do not have is: Biology by Girls Aloud. Of course, being a fabulous Gayer, I own it now. A song I still don't have is: Liza Minelli's Losing My Mind. Perhaps I'm not so fabulous after all?

30) If you visit my hometown, I suggest: you come and see me.

31) Tulips, character flaws, microchips and track stars: bulbs, intriguing, complicated and athletic.

32) Why won't anyone: do? what I say immediately!

33) If you spend the night at my house: I'll let you use the guest towels.

34) I'd stop my wedding: when the Rohypnol wears off and I realise what's going on. If SP pulls his face off revealing himself to be a muck monster from Mordo.

35) The world could do without: greed and intolerance.

36) I'd rather lick the belly of a roach than: burn to death. Again.

37) My favourite thing is: being outside on a really windy day and imagining the wind carrying me off.

38) Paper clips are more useful than: people give them credit for.

39) And by the way: when I say No, I mean it!

40) The last time I was (really) drunk: I ran around in my red pants! And I haven't been hideously pissed since that half-naked night.

41) My grandmother always: is. Used to say "Pig!" after she'd unleashed an enormous burp.

And there you have it. Now for the tags (if you can be arsed): Tim, Dinah, Eros, Beast and 'Petra. Knock yourselves out!

You odious sea cow!

2009-09-04T21:31:00.000+01:00

I have just watched the best episode of Ugly Betty.

Well, I say "the best", I am a little bit saturated with alcohol!

Anyway, I liked it a lot for the burgeoning respect that Betty and Marc have for each other, but I especially liked it for this line that Marc utters after Betty gets accepted into Y.E.T.I. (Young Editors Training Institute or somesuch) over him:

"Marc isn't in right now, but if you leave your name and number he'll never speak to you again, you odious sea cow, Betty! Beeeep."

(You only need to watch the first 12 seconds for the quote)

Next week, someone at work is going to be called an odious sea cow.

I can't wait!

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

Stalked...

2009-09-01T20:37:00.000+01:00

... by the invisible man.

And his dog!

Birthday brownies

2009-08-30T17:47:00.000+01:00

It was The Mother's birthday yesterday, and instead of making her a birthday cake, I made her these birthday brownies:

I wish I'd made more now, as I'm hungry!

The Incubus

2009-08-28T18:17:00.000+01:00

"Right. That's it" I muttered. "I can't wait up any longer, I'm too tired. I'm going to bed. Are you coming?"
"Not just yet" SP replied, clearly perfectly happy sprawled on the sofa watching one of those ubiquitous home improvement shows, a bowl of popcorn in his lap.
I sighed. "Well, if he shows up, you'll have to entertain him on your own. And don't make too much noise. 'night" I said, leaning over to kiss him before walking out of the room. "And you've retired, so don't go getting ideas" I scolded, leaning around the doorframe*.
SP just 'hmmphed' before turning his attention to the TV once more.

~ ~ ~

Upstairs, as I lay in bed on the verge of sleep, I became aware of a strangely rhythmic groaning, choking sound. I deduced that, because of its muffled nature, it must've been coming from next door, and promptly fell asleep.

~ ~ ~

The next morning, I left SP in bed - He'd obviously managed to sneak up during the early hours of the morning without waking me and was now dead to the world. After washing and putting my contacts in, I went downstairs to open the paysho doors and let some air in. Turning around to head for the living room windows and open the blinds, I started!
Our tardy guest Marcolt, an Incubus who served in the same legion of Hell as SP, was gingerly sitting - almost hovering, really - on a pile of cushions on the sofa.
"Gods!" I snapped ignoring what I took to be a massive yawn. "You gave me a fright. Wherever did you get to last night?"
Marcolt pointed up and through the wall towards next door's son's bedroom (which happened to be adjacent to ours), all the while trying to forceably close his mouth with his well manicured hands. His flawless, lightly tanned skin was stretched taut over his handsome, late-20s looking face as he struggled. I was confused until, from the corner of my eye, I saw next door's 18 year old son - well, his head from over the fence - looking tired but VERY pleased with himself as he staggered into his garden for, what I now realised was a post-coital cigarette!
"I 'ouldn't 'esist" Marcolt confessed through his still wide-open, lock-jawed mouth. "'e 'oz 'o 'ig 'at I 'ought 'e 'oz' a 'ower 'ot a 'rower."
I was incredulous. "So, you bit off more than you could chew, eh?" I retorted, pleased at my quick wittedness. My smugness didn't last long, however, as I then realised why he was practically hovering over the cushions: What he couldn't fit in his mouth, he obviously managed to fit somewhere else!

* Which is perfectly normal-sized, thank you.

Happy birthday...

2009-08-25T08:03:00.000+01:00

Yes, it's Dinah's birthday today. This handy and astonishing Coven member may appear to be in her early twenties (although, she has only been seen from behind* in her adult form**), but she's actually 497 years old today!
While witches don't usually attain such a lifespan, Dinah, like myselves, got caught up in a temporal mishap***, hence her advanced age.

Anyway, enough of that. Let's just wish her a happy birthday before clicking on the links at the side there to find someone older.

Happy birthday, Dinah!

* Not like that you filthsome minded lot!
** That makes her sound like she started out life as a grub then pupated into a fully grown human. To my knowledge, that is not how Dinah grew up. Unless...?
*** A story for another time.

Filthy Friday

2009-08-21T06:17:00.000+01:00

Well! I've never been so insulted. If you really must see the filth that's on offer, go. Go! And never darken my doorstep again!

Well, not until the next time I post, that is.

P.S. It really is NSFW, so don't even think about it.

Premonition

2009-08-19T17:19:00.000+01:00

Possibly on Friday?

Yet another boring post with pictures of someone else's garden

2009-08-08T16:07:00.000+01:00

OK, so we made it to the exotic garden last weekend, and here, finally, are the pictures:

That's SP in the white T-shirt at the back.

And that, my friends, is that. Suffice it to say, if anyone knows where time is very quickly escaping to, please let me know.

Exotica

2009-07-22T19:45:00.001+01:00

This is just a fleeting visit to let you know of a new link in my sidebar, under the title: These are a few of my favourite things... And the link takes you to Will Giles' Exotic Garden here in the fine city* of Norwich, Norfolk. I've also added Will's blog to my Flying Monkeys.

Before I moved in with SP - when bitter Spinsterhood had almost claimed me for eternity - I used to live just down the road from Will's wondrous garden and spent many a Sunday afternoon poking around in the lush jungle. Now however, Smug Marriedness has thwarted many attempts at visiting despite only being three miles away. I do have high hopes of dragging SP there this Sunday, though.

Here are a few photos I took whilst visiting the garden last September:

Of course, you should click the links to see better photos than mine...

* Despite Tim's claims to the contrary, Norwich IS a city.