Wednesday, 29 March 2006
Did Blacksmith just make a pass at me? Did I to him? Did (Naked) Knight really notice? Is he jealous? Should I get a pet macaroon?
All these questions with no discernable answers. And the Host was getting impatient. I'd promised him he could have his body back tonight so he could go to the moving pictures with his friends and see The Hills Are Alive, or somesuch.
Before I knew it, the coffee was made. I don't remember doing it so it must've been the subconscious. Curspherically, I floated the two cups outside, where Knight and Blacksmith were still on the patio. Grabbing the tin of garibaldis, I followed the cups out the door and down the overgrown passage to the back garden.
Knight, having finished projecting his psi-armour, was pulling on his top as I got there. "See you, then" he said to Blacksmith.
"Wait!" I practically shouted. "Are you in a hurry to be anywhere, Blacksmith?"
He gave me a goofy grin. "Uh, no. Not really."
* How sad. Another night in front of the telly for him... *
* Hypocrite *
* Who said that? Nebuchadnezzar? Was that you? *
* - silence - *
* Hmmm... *
"Can I borrow you for a while, then?" I asked him. Knight shot me a filthy look. "If i might elaborate," I shot back "the Host wants to go out this evening but I'd like to have a word with Knight. In person."
Five minutes later, I was inhabiting Blacksmith, the Host had changed and jumped in his car and Knight and I (us?) were Gay Waving him off from the front door as he roared away.
We were alone. My opportunity had arisen. However, Knight's 'opportunity' rose faster. And harder!
I was having reservations about Knight. He seemed too eager to 'rise' to Blacksmith. Methinks something's afoot.
Or eight and a half inches to be precise!
Monday, 27 March 2006
The broom was on autopilot as I neared the house. Luckily, I had the crystal ball switched on (hands free, of course) because it alerted me to what, at first glance, appeared to be a lizard on a slice of battenburg, but with a second look, turned out to be Dragon hovering over the patio.
Entering a holding pattern above the house, I saw (Naked) Knight and Blacksmith having an animated conversation beneath the hovering Dragon. Knight kept projecting his psi-armour in various configurations while Blacksmith looked on, occasionally pointing or gesturing at it.
Despite the near freezing temperature, Blacksmith was (barely) wearing, frankly ridiculously small, strips of metal that just about covered his leather-clad nethers...
* "tssszart mip zzztpt fnnnsst?" "No, Nebuchadnezzar. No one said your name, now bugger off. You may have been greatest king of the Dynasty of Pashe but you're not any more." "ssszzztp brrrp tzzttzsk!" "No! Hop it. I'm in the midst of writing." *
Where was I? Oh yes, leather-clad nethers. Although, this evening, he had also seen fit to manipulate another strip of metal that left the hip band of his pants, for wont of a better description, and snaked up diagonally over his amazing six-pack and pecs then over his left shoulder and down his broad back to the hip band again.
As Dragon alighted on the patio next to them, I descended in a controlled spiral - I've been practising - easily missing the overhanging branches of the cursed cherry tree. As I drew closer, I could see that the only reason Blacksmith had generated the shoulder strap was to hold various rolled up bits of paper, pencils and, what looked like, a couple of cans of Red Bull. This could only mean they were going to be here most of the night.
Sigh... I suppose I'd better put the kettle on.
As I landed, gracefully I might add, I sensed the kettle was full and cursphered* the switch.
"Hello, Blacksmith" I said, alighting from the broom. He grinned at me as I turned it off. Then he did the strangest thing. He raised his right hand up to his shoulder and waggled his fingers at me.
A. Gay. Wave!
Autopolite kicked in before I could stop it and I did one back, an embarassed smile on my face. I turned to kiss Knight hello but noticed, as I moved in, his narrowed eyes.
Uh oh. He still kissed me but it felt wrong.
* I thought I was telekinetic but the Lady assures me otherwise, Damn her. It seems what I thought was telekinesis is actually cursing. Apparently, I generate a thaumsphere around part or all of the intended target and curse the interior in a way that will give the desired outcome. For instance, switching the kettle on when I'm no where near it: I generate a 'sphere around the switch then curse it to increase gravity. Once the gravity is sufficiently strong enough, the switch falls, turning the kettle on. There. Magic. Huh! She takes the mystery out of everything. She thinks she's Jean Grey. If only she wasn't so fat and old. Actually, that's unfair. She's plump and early middle-aged.
Saturday, 25 March 2006
Well, I say ravenous hoards but in actual fact there're only four of them and they'll only be mildly peckish.
I hope. Because I haven't got that much to feed them with. The supply of children around here seems to have dwindled somewhat...
* bloik *
S'cuse me. Seem to have a bit of wind. No. Not poo-air, the other kind!
Anyway, be off with you - I'm busy. I'll try and post something tomorrow.
Wednesday, 22 March 2006
Grrrrr... 31, indeed.
I haven't quite worked out how it should look in numerical form. Obviously not 2011 - I'm not that old. Although, 2011 is closer to IDV's actual age...
20'11 maybe? But that looks like I'm describing my height. I may be a freak but not that much of one.
20-11? Hmmm... As long as no one does maths this should work.
Sunday, 19 March 2006
Friday, 17 March 2006
Why she tagged me I don't know.
I'm not weird, am I?
Anyway, here goes:
1. My thumb knuckles bend backwards. I don't know why. They just do. Come to think of it, my fingers go back quite a long way, too. They're useful for when I'm on my hands and knees...
That's 10 things already isn't it? No? Spoilsports!
2. Despite my innate laziness, I've managed to keep this Blog going for six months. Now that is weird.
3. I'm no longer dependent on chocolate.
Did someone just gasp all the air out of the room?
4. Sometimes, when I walk past people, I don't always lift one of my feet right off the ground, consequeyntely (hee hee) making a scraping sound. This is done entirely subconsciously. Bloody subconscious! I don't know what it's playing at sometimes. Shitting thing.
5. I still put up with that damn bird. I think I must be softening in my old age. He was trying to peck the eyes out of next door's Jack Russell when I got home yesterday. Evil little sod. Beaky, not the dog.
6. I used to collect days but gave up when I found the Timeline unravelling in my linen basket and found Yesterday rolled up at the bottom of the wardrobe. I asked The Ghost Of Christmas Future for help finding Tomorrow but he could only come up with Sunday.
I didn't like to tell him I already had two Sundays, so I ended up swapping the one he found plus one of my original two for a Last Thursday. It wasn't very good - it smelled faintly of haddock.
There. That's about as weird as I get. I must admit, it was a bit of a struggle trying to come up with six things - I'm such a paragon of normalcy.
Now, I understand I'm supposed to tag some others to confess their weirdness, however, Brianne's already tagged four of the people I would've tagged and I'm sure Kyahgirl's already done this.
I'll just have to get a bigger blogroll...
Thursday, 16 March 2006
I couldn't get out of Stinky's universe quickly enough. There was filth and mess everywhere. Well, all over her Earth, anyway. Overturned cars, broken buildings, floods of water and, horror of horrors, swathes of ASDA shopping trolleys and carrier bags built up into great drifts in and about the vile estates from which the stores grow.
After I'd "dropped into" Blacksmith, I took one look around and gave up the ghost, so to speak. There was no way I could do anything meaningful or lasting to this place unless I stayed.
Turning to TGOC Parallel Universe I said "Stinky, you do realise that I can't possibly do anything here? Other than cast a glamour over things to make them look better. And that'd be pretty localised and wouldn't last more than a day or two."
"Of course I do. I'm not completely stupid" she replied. "You can stay and help us sort everything out. I know there're some long lasting restorative spells that you can do."
There it was: "You can stay".
Not on your bloody life! Or death. Or spectral form. Whatever.
Shit. How was I going to get out of this one without appearing rude?
"Oh bugger" I said. "I've think I've left the oven on."
Sunday, 12 March 2006
Anyway, one can't go flitting through parallel universes encumbered with a physical shell. It's just not polite. Not to mention against some physical law or other. So I had to leave the Host behind. Which meant that I'd have to inhabit someone else when I got there. I needed a familiar body.
I enquired as to whether there was a parallel Host I could just drop into but Stinky thought he'd perished years ago in an inflatable paddling pool accident. Oh the ignominy! She suggested either Wraith or Blacksmith from her universe's Supernaturals. No contest. I went for Blacksmith. There was no way I was going to inhabit that vapid little cow's skinny body. Apparently, Stinky had the foresight to warn them beforehand that I'd need the loan of a body.
It was at this point that a question popped into my mind: Where was the parallel me?
Stinky didn't know for sure. She knew I didn't exist in her time and had done some research before spectralising in my television. She thought her me hadn't managed to leave our body to travel forward in time to the now present ( I hate trying to describe alternate temporal mechanics ). Shit! That probably means I was burnt at the stake. Or dunked in some polluted pond until I had no choice but to try and breathe its scummy water. Bleeugh.
Time for another question: What did she need me for?
Stinky looked uncomfortable and began to fidget. After a couple of seconds she mumbled something unintelligible.
"I said: Our you is the most powerful witch on record. We thought you could help with this disaster."
I could scarcely believe my ears. TGOC Parallel Universe paying a compliment, albeit grudgingly.
"What makes you think I'm as powerful a witch as your me was?" I asked her, still reeling.
"Well... You... You're here, aren't you?" she stuttered. "You managed to hurl yourself forward in time whereas our you couldn't. Or didn't."
Hmmm. She had a point.
"Ok Stinky. Let's go before I change my mind" I said, resignedly.
I hate traveling through inter-universal barriers. It stings.
Saturday, 11 March 2006
On my way to work I walk past a KFC. This morning, I noticed a new poster. Well, it might not have been new – I don’t normally take any notice of KFC for it is vile and contemptible. The poster was advertising:
Mum’s night off bucket
The dirty, slack whore.
Thursday, 9 March 2006
What? Oh. Yes.
That's right. I was going to tell you the news about TGOC Parallel Universe's Earth. And the MASSIVE planetary disaster that befell it - see 01/03/06 two posts thataway V.
I'm not going to go into too much detail because, quite frankly, I can't be arsed. But, I said I'd tell you so tell you I shall.
There I was, last Friday - well, the one before last if I remember correctly - minding my own business watching Desperate Housewives ( I know it's not on on a Friday - I'd taped it), when the telly went on the blink. The picture went a bit fuzzy to begin with. Then those annoying horizontal lines started making their way slowly up the screen. A whistling then started to come from the insides making me think I had tinnitus. Finally, the picture gave way to violent static - kind of like Evil Edna on one of those days.
It could only be one of two things. One: The telly had packed up, or two: Someone was haunting it.
Having got all comfy in my chair, I struggled to my feet, biscuit crumbs flying all over the carpet (well, I like a nice Sainsbury's half chocolate coated coconut Taste The Difference cookie, or seven) as I lurched towards the tv.
I gave it a clout.
"Ow! Stop that" it said.
" - " I replied. "Edna? Is that you?"
"No it jolly well isn't" was the indignant response.
Oh sod. It was TGOC Parallel Universe. She never was any good at trans-universal spectralisation. It took us half an hour to get her out of the microwave at TGOC Future's at Christmas. Silly mare.
"Good grief. Get out of my television!"
"I'm trying. I think I'm caught in the tube..."
Sigh... "Hang on" I said, "I'll turn it off."
* click *
"Ooh. That's better" she said as she slowly spectralised in the bay window.
"Goodness Stinky (her nickname, from her initials: P U), you're a fright!" I exclaimed. And she was. Her dress was in tatters, no shoes, hair all over the shop and she was dripping ectoplasm all over my carpet!
"Well. You would be too if you'd been through what I've been through."
I rolled my eyes. Here we go. Drama queen central.
"We've been hit!"
"Earth. My Earth, has been hit by an asteroid" she proclaimed, eyelids fluttering in the manner of one who's given up being rational and decided that fainting is the only option left.
"By the look of things, it landed on you" I remarked, acidly.
Her eyes widened but her lids kept fluttering nineteen to the dozen. "Well, really" she managed to say. "Australia, New Zealand and half of Antarctica are gone. The Americas, Africa and most of Asia have been decimated." At this point, she really did look like she was going to faint. I would've slapped her but seeing as she was somewhat insubstantial, I didn't bother. "All that's left is some of Canada, Greenland, parts of Western Europe and the UQ (United Queendom - used to be matriarchal. Don't ask!) and they're in pretty bad shape."
Had it been earlier in the evening and had I not drunk a couple of glasses of wine, I might have reacted differently. But it wasn't. And I had. So I didn't.
"Umm... Would you mind hovering over the hearth as you're dripping ectoplasmic gunk all over my carpet"
I'll finish this another time. It doesn't half go on...
Saturday, 4 March 2006
It was dim but not murky in the foyer. The large, multi-paned windows let in the vague green light from outside. I was about to inspect a picture on the wall to my right when movement in the corner of my eye made me freeze.
There was something in the kitchen. Something big. And black.
My heart was pounding as I slowly turned to get a better view. Whatever it was hadn't noticed me. I couldn't see or sense any eyes or make out any specific shapes, just its lissome movements as it manoeuvered around the kitchen. Using just my hands I propelled myself deliberately to the banister and concealed most of my body behind it while peering out through the rails.
Suddenly, whatever it was moved quickly towards the door into the foyer. Towards me. My eyes widened in fright. It was the queen.
Turning quickly, I surged down the stairs, curved over the banister and down in to the cellar below. Panicked, I sought for a hiding place but the room was devoid of furniture big enough to accomodate me. I was breathing the cool water faster now, in the grip of fear. Then I noticed the shape under the stairs.
Two aliens were nestled together on a sofa, stroking and caressing each other, oblivious to me. Sensing no maliciousness in them, I swam over them, dropping down behind their writhing, intertwined bodies. Through the gaps I could see the huge phallic shaped head of the queen come in to view as she effortlessly glided down the stairwell. Her massive, bladed crest was flattened against her back, her arms and legs brought in close against her undulating body and long, bony tail.
She slowly swam around the cellar, her lips curled back in a sneer displaying her sharp, translucent teeth. Ignoring the two aliens hiding me, she made one more circuit before disappearing up the stairwell. I remained where I was, shaking too much to even consider moving.
I don't know how much time had passed before I realised that I was transfixed by the writhing aliens before me. Their hard, black bodies rubbing and twisting around themselves in their intimate encounter. Before I knew it, a tail had smoothly wrapped around my leg and a strong but gentle, clawed hand had gripped my arm. I tried to extricate myself but was trapped. Then I found myself being pulled towards the sofa.
Despite being held by these terrifying creatures I felt strangely comfortable. Sandwiched between them now, they continued to caress each other, occasionally their hands, arms or tails would rub against me. I felt soothed by their actions. Relaxed, even. Gradually, I started to reciprocate, sliding my fingers over their hard, sinewey limbs, nuzzling my head into the crook of an arm or under a jaw. They were cajoling and enticing me to do more. I was becoming...
* rrrrrrrrrrrrruuuuuuuuuummmmmmmmmmmmmmble creeeaak groan *
Huh? Wassgoingon? Wher...
Oh. I must've fallen asleep. What a bizarre dream.
That bloody central heating system woke me up again. Crotchety old clank. I only fed it the other day! Now I'll never get back to sleep.
Wednesday, 1 March 2006
Anyway, that's not why I'm posting now. It's because of something I heard on the televisual box (heard because I wasn't paying it much heed as I was reading). An advertisement for Bodyform jam rags*:
Apparently, one in five women are let down by their sanitary towel.
What wasn't mentioned was *how* they were let down.
Didn't they have tea on the table when you came home? Forgot to put the rubbish out? Didn't pick up the kids from school? Forgot your birthday?
Those pesky towels! They probably didn't absorb all the blob either.
I'll get right on with reporting the disaster on parallel Earth in a couple of days...
* I'm allowed to be derisory having leaked vital body fluid once a month before I left my old body and dropped into this one. All I can say is "Thank Christ it's over with now"!