Saturday, 31 March 2007
Wednesday, 28 March 2007
* !hpmmmmmM ...hgrrrrrrrrrR * !pleH
.ynapmoc rof snoitcelfer ylno htiw ereh ni em deppart sah eMrorriM
!remehcs suoirafen eht ,seirots elttil sih fo eno eveileb I emit tsal eht si sihT
?enoZ motnahP eht ni ekil s'ti tahw si siht enigami I !hhccaaaA
.dootsrednusim tsuj - live t'nsaw ehS .asrU rooP
?rorrim a fo tnorf ni pu ti dloh dna dnaw ym teg uoy fo eno lliW
.ereh fo tuo em pleh ot noitcelfer s'ti esu neht nac I
Tuesday, 27 March 2007
Friday, 23 March 2007
The breath wouldn't last, the accused thought in resignation. This was the seventh time. Each submergence had been longer than the last. More taxing than the last. Or maybe it just felt that way? Whichever, this was the one, the unfortunate accused knew. The scant time above the pond's surface was barely enough to take even the shortest breath, never mind a lung full. This was the one. Would the Hellfires await?
Hellfire! That was it!
In the murky green depths, The Sign was made with fingers tied beneath the worn smooth wooden balance. Suddenly, the gloomy, pressing cold was replaced with a fierce light and an even fiercer heat. A deep breath was inhaled, taking in fire and sulfur and brimstone. The balance beneath hurtled skywards as internal organs blazed.
Those most curious at the pond's edge had already been flash burned when the water boiled instantaneously into steam. The rest were frozen in shock and incredulousness. The witch was catapulted into the evening sky, the rope bonds had dissolved into ash. The exhalation of Hell from the witch's lungs rained down on the remaining villagers, immolating them where they stood, transfixed and now aflame.
As the charring flesh crawled back on itself, the consciousness inhabiting the body translocated in vain. Desperately searching for a suitable host.
Fortunately, the 'Tower was down during the inversion...
Thursday, 22 March 2007
... in 1975, the Host was born. Angels sang, rivers ran with wine, and Darwinian evolution came to a halt as it's pinnacle had been reached! Or something. Little did he know IDV would be dropping in 30 years down the line.
... in 2007, IDV stares into his crystal ball to see what kind of cake The Mother has made him. Instead, he sees this timeline. Bugger.
... in 2011, IDV's secret* errand for Tim, to obtain a sample of The Shat's DNA for nefarious cloning purposes, goes hideously wrong. He is catapulted into the future, to 2230, where one of Winona Kirk's eggs is accidently fertilised with the appropriated DNA.
... in 2231, Captain** James Tiberius Kirk is born. The rest will be history.
Or will it?
* Oops! Sorry Tim. Not so secret now...
** Obviously, he's not born as a captain. For a start, his rank insignia would have torn something on the way out. Look how pointy it is:
Tuesday, 20 March 2007
Back home, I plugged Wand into the eyeWand port at the base of my crystal ball and started the download. I'd just started running a bath when there was a knock on the door. It was Knight. And he already had his top off.
"Oh, not now. I'm about to get in the bath" I said before he had a chance to say anything. "But you can go over that lot" and I pointed at the 'ball, "if you like."
"I..." he said.
"Thanks" I said. "Make yourself at home. I may be a while - I've just spent more than five minutes in the company of both my sisters, so the resulting headache needs a good long relaxing soak to banish it." I turned away from him, not daring to look back - I had noticed his most impressive trouser bulge and knew I wouldn't be able to resist him if he turned on the charm.
I practically slammed the bathroom door, locked it and leaned back on it releasing a huge sigh. I did it! I resisted.
An hour and a half later, I emerged from the bathroom amid a cloud of steam. Knight was sitting at the dining room table engrossed in the data collected by us DeVice's. He'd even put his top back on.
He looked up as I entered the room. "This is fascinating" he remarked, all thoughts of sex gone. "It appears a chronothaumic explosion occurred, or is still occurring " he corrected himself, "at the site of the hospital."
I raised an eyebrow.
"The strange thing is, there're two ignition points."
I lowered the eyebrow. "Really." I didn't mean to sound dismissive. It's just that something about him makes me contrary and stubborn. Even though I was intrigued and had even contemplated what he was about to say, I still denied it.
"One has only just started, or is about to start. The other has been going for about 45 years!"
"OK" I said. "Shall I open a bottle of wine?"
"I wish you'd stop being so damn flippant" he stated, obviously annoyed.
"Coffee, then?" I asked, Mary-Mary-like and tipping him the wink.
He caught my eye for a moment then threw it back. "Suit yourself."
I stared after him as he stormed off into the living room. Moody git. Contemplating the data displayed in the crystal ball, I realised he was right. Blast it! From the dynamics of the two ignitions, it seems that a collision was underway. A collision that had been ongoing for 47 years. One had - will - start not two weeks from now, the other began in 1960.
Oh, well, I thought. I can't do anything about it now, so I might as well go upstairs and get dressed.
I had cooled off, moisturised and was all but dressed when a couple of unfamiliar noises and one not so unfamiliar familiar caught my attention. I ignored the sounds from downstairs - it must've been Knight moving things around - and turned to the window.
There on the window sill was Beaky, looking smug. It was that 'I know something that you don't know' look.
"Oh, clear off, you little sod" I half-heartedly snapped. Beaky remained where he was for a second or two, managing to look even more smug before turning away with his beak in the air and flying off over the flats opposite.
* clunk bonk "Uhhhh... Yeah!" *
Now that did sound suspiciously familiar. Like Knight in the throws of, well, sex! And it wasn't me he was throwing!
Pulling on a t-shirt, I left my 'room and bounded downstairs, bursting into the living room.
Instinctively I ducked as something flew at my face. Lifting my head, I was confronted with an actually naked Knight sprawled over the settee, straddled by a half naked, time travelling tart!
I turned around to confirm my suspicions. Yes. There, splattered on the wall at head height was... Well, you can imagine what it was. Turning back, I noticed two, let's just say matching globs of moist ejecta on Knight's sweat-sheened, heaving torso. And one in his hair. And another sliding down the tart's neck.
My hands planted themselves on my hips.
"My. Someone's been productive."
My rage levels were at incoherence, but somehow the fabric of reality wasn't being affected. There was no thunder and lightning, objects weren't flinging themselves around the room with gay abandon - apart from the 'stuff' that had recently been flung, but that wasn't my doing. Well, it was, but not this me. Explanation coming up.
Somehow, my reality affecting emotional outburst switch had been flipped to the 'off' position. And I know I didn't do it.
I was looking forward to that. Bugger.
"It was me" the tart said - still astride the panting, semi-conscious Knight - with a look of intense concentration on his face.
"What's the look for?" I demanded.
"Well... Ummm..." there was some lip biting going on, "You see, as well as damping your emotional state, I'm also... Uhhhh... Ooohh... withholding... Ummm... something."
My face was a blank.
Then realisation popped in and fired. "I see." I was so unamused, that had I been The Queen Of Hearts, the whole population of Wonderland would have been decapitated. Giving up, I said "Carry on, then." The tart gave a brief smile of acknowledgement then appeared to relax, eyes rolling back into his head, mouth slightly agape and finishing off with a judder that started in the pelvic region before spreading throughout the rest of his body. In his state of semiconsciousness, Knight grunted and smiled. Somehow, through gritted teeth and pursed lips, I managed to hiss: "Let me get you a towel" before dramatically leaving the room.
A little while later, Conrad Folkard-DeVice the time travelling tart, Knight and I were sitting around the dining room table trying to discuss matters calmly.
"But I still don't see why you had to shag him, Conrad?"
"Don't you? Honestly, I thought you'd grasp this concept straight away" the tart replied.
"I get it" Knight interjected. Two pairs of DeVice eyes fixed on him. "Conrad and I had to have sex because the DeVice in him - you - remembers bursting in and catching them at it."
"That's as may be" I grudgingly admitted, "but you could've said no."
"I did" Knight answered, "but then Conrad explained that we had to. And who am I to mess around with time? Anyway, it's not like I cheated on you. For a start, he's" and he pointed at the tart "you in 2261. And you're the one that keeps saying we're not 'an item'."
Grrrr... He had me there. But I wasn't going to let it go. "Still, you could've put up a bit more resistance. If he'd said he was Anne Boleyn reincarnated -"
"Well, actually -" interrupted Conrad.
"Quiet, you!" I snapped. "Actually, why exactly are you here? Other than to shag him, of course."
To his credit, Conrad didn't react. "We're on a search and rescue mission. My ship's in deep orbit scanning for a missing VIP transport... Ohh..." He paused for a couple of seconds, the look of confusion on his face replaced by one of recognition. "Deja vu" he stated matter of factly, then gave a little judder not unlike the 'release' one from earlier. I nearly threw up. "I remember this" he continued. "I was - you are - researching the origins of the Supernaturals." He looked pleased with himself.
"Yes. We know the cause are chronohexatic particles created by a chronothaumic explosion occurring between 1960 and now, well, two weeks from now, actually" Knight supplied.
"I remember taking the scans with Inexcusable and Indescribable at the hospital."
"And what a palaver that was" I said."Oog. Yes." Conrad winced at the shared memory. "Jinkies! I've got it!" he almost shouted. "That explosion was caused when a future-travelling witch neglected to clear her flightplan with the TTCT. The Temporal Traffic Control Tower" he explained at our enquiring looks. "She encountered turbulence at about 1960 and didn't, or couldn't, leave the timestream, consequently spreading herself over the next 47 years before dissipating. Unfortunately, the 'Tower, not knowing about the witch, cleared the VIP transport's flightplan before proper scans of the path could be taken, all because of political pressure from one of the passengers. It collided with the spreading remnants of the witch in 2007 and had to make an emergency landing.
"There's the cause of your C-Hex particles!"
"How do you know this?" I asked.
"We intercepted the distress call and telemetry of the transport before it left the timestream into 2007. It's temporal navigation array must've picked up the traces of the witch too late to avoid them.
"Well, that and your memories of this conversation, which are now flooding back.
"Unfortunately, we're having difficulty locating the transport."
Ooh! I wonder if that was what nearly squashed me last month? "I might be able to help you there" I said. "I almost got flattened the other night by a ship that -""Landed in Carey's Meadow" Conrad chimed in. "I remember now. 200 years or so can leave one's memory a little hazy" he said. "I'd better call the Straxus and let them know where to pick the transport up from.
"I'm glad I stopped by, now" he smiled.
"Mmm..." I agreed somewhat sarcastically. "A fantastic shag* and info to aid your mission. I can hardly wait for my life to be so easy!"
* Well, Knight is a fantastic shag!
Monday, 19 March 2007
"You need my help" she crowed.
"No" I said as calmly as I could through gritted teeth. "I would like your help. I don't need it."
"Pah!" she spat. "You can't do this without me."
I bit my tongue. I could have done it without her, it's just that it'd take longer and would be safer and more convenient to use someone I know and am familiar with. I narrowed my lips in an approximation of a surrendering smile.
Inexcuseable, on the other hand, was a pushover. All she wanted was for me to order something from my Next catalogue for her. Phew! I thought she was going to say I had to come to see her and her fiance at their new home and stay for a homecooked meal. Inexcuseable and her oven don't exactly see eye to eye, and her recipe books were so ashamed of their content being marmalised that the flock of them flew off through her kitchen window one day, never to be seen again*
The three of us gathered in the old hospital grounds and prepared for our task. Well, I say prepared, there wasn't much to do to be honest. Inexcusable stood scowling with her thumb in her mouth as Indescribable and I bickered.
"Oh shut up, you bossy git!" Indescribable screamed at me.
"Well, where is it then?" I asked her sarcastically.
Indescribable had 'misplaced' her wand. She'd already tipped the contents of her bag out on to the cracked tarmac, old chewing gum packets and tammy wrappers skittered about in the breeze.
"Here!" she cried, triumphantly producing the battered wand from what I hoped was only an extra long lipstick case.
"At last. Now, can we get on?" I asked somewhat exasperated. "And take your bloody thumb out, Inexcusable!" With a pop, her thumb was removed, but replaced with a pout. "Right. You know what to do. I'll anchor you here, so don't do anything daft like Relocating once you're there. I don't want to have to trawl through a fortnight to find you."
"Durrrrr..." was Indescribable's response.
"I know" was Inexcusable's as she stepped back into yesterday, twisting out of sight.
Privately, I was impressed. She was getting much better at The Art, she almost made it look easy. Unlike Indescribable. I watched in wincing resignation as she clumsily tripped over her own feet, fell over tomorrow, farted, and landed in Wednesday before fading from view. Silly cow.
Once out of my sight, I started scanning the hospital with my wand, just as my sisters should be doing.
A couple of minutes later, Inexcusable reappeared.
"Here" she said sulkily, discharging the results of her scan from yesterday from her wand to mine. "Where's Indescribable?"
I rolled my eyes. "Probably in the middle of next week by now" I sighed. "It's all right. You can go, thank you."
" 'K. Bye." And with that she walked off towards her car, thumb planted firmly back in her mouth.
"See you next week" I shouted after her, then turned back towards the hospital. Indescribable still wasn't back. Sod this, I thought. Grunting, I pulled the Curstring that connected me to her. Bugger me! She must weigh a ton! Suddenly, she popped back into existence. And fell over on to her sizeable arse, narrowly missing my right foot.
"Oof!" she said.
"Wand" I demanded. She held it up in one hand, the other she used to rub her knee. I discharged her scans into my wand. "When are these from? Tuesday or Wednesday?"
"Thursday? But you landed in Wednesday?"
"Yeah, I know. But I banged my knee on arrival, uttered the wrong curse and backed up into Thursday 'cause I wasn't facing forwards."
I was incredulous. "You mean you went into the future because you were facing the wrong way?!?"** Before she could say anything else, I carried on. "Never mind. I can compensate for that. Just... Just don't go bumbling around in the timestream by yourself, you clod!"
I spun on my heels and narrowly avoided flouncing off. Instead, I just about pulled off a manly stride as I flung Indescribable's wand over my shoulder at her still sitting form.
* Although, I think I've seen Delia Smith's Complete Cookery Course roosting in Norwich City Football Club's grounds.
** Thank you Hobbes, the reluctant time travelling tiger. Yukon Ho!
Saturday, 17 March 2007
I briefly pondered the popular theory of inbreeding for which the population of Norfolk is, somewhat unjustly (only somewhat, mind) accused of. Yes, it produces mutants, but more along the lines of the mong variety. The Supernaturals I know are definitely not mongs. Some of them are complete hotties - step forward Knight, Blacksmith and Seer. I know there's Dragon, but I don't think even a thousand years of inbreeding could produce something like her. Instead, the result would probably be some sort of human jellyfish.
Anyway, I used my wand to do some deep probing of the aforementioned studly Supernaturals. To my surprise, I found a small amount of chronohexatic particles inextricably bonded with their DNA. It was these particles that had triggered the formation of their supernatural abilities. The question is: How did these particles get there?
You see, chronohexatic particles are very rare. They can only be generated in an anti-time thaumogenic field, usually by the mutual annihilation of sufficiently thaumically charged bodies. I deduced that all Supernaturals created by the c-hex particles must have been present at some sort of thaumic catastrophe. The only problem was that the Supernaturals were of wildly differing ages. For example, the Lady's abilities had manifested long before Wraith and Seer were even born, so how could they have been at the same place at the same time?
It was at this point that (naked) Knight put forward the suggestion that they'd probably all been in the same place at one time or another. At one time or another being the crux of the matter. He - rather smugly I have to say - pointed out that the trigger point may not be fixed in time. The geological location would remain constant but the time frame could be between whenever the Lady was born - she being the oldest - and now.
Grudgingly, I had to give him that. Irritating bastard. In return, he gave me The Look. The one that makes me want to shag him, but luckily for my self respect, I was too wrapped up in this research to do any more than narrow my eyes at him and sneer faintly, much to his disappointment.
After some ringing around, we gave up - my phone bill would have been astronomical! - and coerced the Lady into telepathically scanning the Supernaturals within her range for a common geographical place they'd been when they were young. She found out that they were all born in the old Norfolk & Norwich Hospital, which is now - almost - luxury apartments. Success! We had our location!
For the next part of the research, I had to do something almost unspeakable.
Oog. It makes me shudder, even now.
Friday, 16 March 2007
A commanding female voice, speaking as if through gritted teeth said: "There's five thousand bodies on this, so I want you to put it right."
A second later, a whiny male said: "Can Jeremy...?" I don't think this was linked to the first voice. But some guy replied to him with: "Forget about it" in an exasperated tone. Then someone else spoke but I can't remember what they said. I think it was something technical. And following that, another voice said: "Here, somewhere" as if they'd been asked where something was.
Now, I know these voices weren't anything to do with IDV because old Witchface had gone out for the night, pestering TGOC Present I shouldn't wonder. I'm a little concerned by what the female voice said - There hasn't been anything in the news about 5000 deaths, has there?
Wednesday, 14 March 2007
Well, I was watching Ugly Betty. If it wanted to watch something else, it should've got to the TV sooner.
Monday, 12 March 2007
Well, in England, anyway.
Norwich and Overstrand, most definitely!
So much so that I decided to wash Car - who is now blindingly clean. See The Parents - hence knowing what the weather was like in Overstrand. And do some gardening.
However, I procrastinated somewhat over the gardening. You see, it needs some manure, especially for some of the larger container plants, and Car didn't want to visit some mucky stables in its beautiful, sparkling condition. And I certainly didn't want to be lugging great sacks of stinky manure around! So, I went out with some friends instead - Ok, that wasn't so much procrastination as going off on a tangent, but you get the idea - one of whom being Svaathor. The topic of gardening came up and being the polite and generous centaur that he is, he offered me some manure.
My eyes may have widened ever-so-slightly, but I'm sure he didn't notice, as I graciously declined his offer.
I mean, how many of you would let your friends come 'round and shit all over your garden?
Friday, 9 March 2007
Nothing has remained until now.
Only a few minutes ago, he - or she - tells me, a Visit/Flush/Slam occurred. Hands were washed and dried, the door unlocked and the bathroom was almost vacated before the Lift was remembered.
And thank goodness it was remembered. As, lurking menacingly in the settling water, was what can only be described in polite company as an undesirable excretion. The horror of such a sight almost caused a loss of consciousness. Luckily, a fan was on his - or her - person so copious amounts of fannage wafted fresh, reviving air to his - or her - nostrils, staving off unconsciousness.
With this frightful experience indelibly etched in his - or her - memory, the Lift at the end of the manoeuver will never be forgotten again.
God forbid anyone else should happen upon such a monster!
Wednesday, 7 March 2007
OK. This is what I did:
Saturday night - some extended members of the Coven came 'round. I cooked. No one died - again. Copious amounts of wine were
Now, if you're thinking "Why does that warrant a seven day absence (not counting 'Help!' and 'Crazy' posts)?" It's because of the preparation:
Thinking, deciding, undeciding, cleaning, organising, shopping, more cleaning, inviting, reading recipe book, shopping, perhaps some light cleaning?, "I can't cook that!*", different shopping, despairing at bank balance, reading recipe book again, contemplating uninviting guests & cancelling the whole evening, throwing recipe book away, more shopping, some cleaning, marinating (chicken, not me), last minute cleaning, peeling, chopping, slicing, Eeek! What am I going to wear?! Actual cooking - everyone arrived on time meaning I couldn't hex it done, spiting Apocalypse Oven by only using it to warm plates - Ha! Realise I didn't change. Or do my hair. Oh well, more wine will remedy that. Kick last guest out at nearly 1am, clean, sleep, get up, clean, wake up, clean properly, collapse, sleep, get up, wake up, heave carcass to work again and again and again.
Oh. Here I am.
My! Doesn't time fly?
* Read: I can't be bothered to cook that.