Neighbourhood witch

SP came home with a surprise the other day. A child.

Naturally, I was ecstatic. After all, we'd got nothing in for dinner, so at least we wouldn't have to fork out for a suspect take-away. I started pulling out the largest roasting dish from the back of the cupboard but SP stopped me.
"It's not to eat" he said. "You'll upset the neighbour if you do."
"Oh, she won't mind" I said, chopping an onion and some broccoli to go with the kid.
"Yes she will. He's her child!"
"Oh" I said. "Oh, bugger."

It turned out the neighbour's other child had injured herself by pulling a drawer off its runners and onto her foot. SP had just left our house to take Moom for a walk when the neighbour had careered out of her house to rush her daughter to hospital and, finding a willing 'sitter practically on her doorstep, thrust her son upon SP and drove off.

I decided I'd much rather cook dinner (we had stew with mashed potatoes and broccoli in the end) than entertain a minor, so hid busied myself in the kitchen instead. I consoled myself by telling myself how high in cholesterol children are these days.

Cusp Trek V: The Final Front Bottom

Or, The Enterprise Coincidence (as I don't think Star Trek V: The Final Frontier can be parodied to make it more ridiculous than it already is)

* ding dong *

* ding dong - ding dong *

"Mmmph. Wassat? Wassgo'non?"

* ding dong * "Evil calling!"

What?"
"Um. Avon calling?" came the reply from beyond sleep.
There was a pause then other voices spoke.

"'Evil calling?' You dolt!"
"Hey! Shut up!"
"Well. Honestly..."

Tim grumbled as he got out of bed, slid into his slippers and slumped downstairs to answer the door.
"Yikes!" There before him, beaming from ear to ear, was a certain witch of his acquaintance. Tim quickly grabbed a throw from the back of the sofa and wrapped it around his naked torso. The beaming stopped abruptly.
"Hello Timothy. Here, take that!" and I thrust my package at him.
Tim jumped back but involuntarily reached for the long, hard package.
"Sorry I didn't get this to you for your birthday, but better late than never, hmm?"
"Hmmmph. Never would have been fine" Tim muttered under his breath then wielded the parcel in my face. "What's this then?"
"That? Oh, that's nothing - I just used it for the innuendo." And I grabbed the package back and flung it aside as I swept into the room.
"Oh" Tim said with a hint of disappointment as he shut the door behind me. "So, what did you get me?"
"Nothing." Tim looked disappointed again and a little bit sad, somewhat like a recently scolded puppy. "Yet" I relented, a sucker for that particular look of his. "I'm taking you over the Cusp for a treat."
"Oh" said Tim without a trace of excitement or enthusiasm. "Great. Let me just get changed first." And he plodded off upstairs.
An almost record breaking 27 minutes later, he returned fully dressed and coiffed. I heaved myself off the sofa and handed him the cup of non-rohypnolled coffee I'd made to assist in waking him up.
"Now, mind you don't trip on the way through - We don't want to end up in the Brown Jelly Baby Universe, do we?"
After shuddering in horror, Tim sighed and followed me as I turned in a certain way to leave this universe and-
"Oh, shit."
-tripped over the package I'd thrown aside earlier. Oh, the ignominy.

~ ~ ~

I came to spread-eagled amongst a lot of humming machinery. The top of my head was really very hot and a bright light seemed to be coming from up there too. The door opposite me suddenly burst open to reveal an overly made-up, strangely dressed yet familiar looking male figure with pointy ears and eyebrows. "Tim?!" I almost shrieked. "Oh, thank gods. You've come to rescue me." Tim took one look at me and burst into raucous laughter. "Bwah hah hah hah haa! Look at you. Hah hah ha! You look ridiculous!" "Hmmmph" I was not amused. "Just get me down from here. And you're no picture yourself!"

Captain Timothy "Emo" Kirk

"What?" Disconcerted, Tim took out a communicator/compact and gazed in mild horror at his reflection in the small mirror. "Oh." "Nice eyeshadow, emo." I could barely contain my smug smile. "Wait a minute" Tim blurted out, a smug smile of his own spread across his face. "I know where we are! And I know why you look like that" and he held out his compact so I could see my own reflection.

Cloaking DeVice

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!" I had a cloaking device strapped to my head. And then reality sank in. "We're replaying The Enterprise Incident from TOS?"
"Yes. Yes we are. You must be not just a cloaking device, but 'Cloaking DeVice' and I'm Captain Kirk! I guess I'm to take you back to Starfleet to be reverse engineered."
"Mmmmmmm..." I smiled faintly, losing myself in a fantasy.
"But I have a feeling you'd like that" Tim said to himself as I certainly wasn't listening. "Ahem!"
"What?" I snapped out of my fantasy rather abruptly. "Oh. Yes."

~

Meanwhile, a few decks up in the Romulan Commander's quarters, a buxom figure materialised amidst the glitter and sparkle of a transporter beam. The woman wore an operations red Starfleet minidress uniform and held a tricorder which she used to scan the room. Her bouffant almost, but not quite, covered her Alien Queen crest - It was MJ!

* FLUSH *

The sound of rushing water behind her made MJ spin around. A door opened and a female Romulan appeared, pulling down her uniform and straightening her sash. She looked up too late, though.
MJ grabbed each side of the Romulan's face and opened her dripping maw. Little Mouth shot out straight for the Commander's forehead.
"I likes to eat people from other planets" Little Mouth said before plunging into the Romulan's skull.
"Get back up inside me Little Mouth" MJ ordered. "Yuck. What a mess. I'll have to clean this up before I can wear her skin and uniform" and she grabbed the trail of toilet paper that was hanging from the back of the late Commander's knickers and started mopping up the blood and brains.

~

Back in the engine room, Tim had disentangled me from the humming machinery with a disappointingly minimum* amount of physical contact and flipped his communicator open.
"Kirk to Enterprise."
"Enterprise. Uhura here, Captain" an unfamiliar voice replied. We both looked at each other questioningly.
"Uhura?"
"It's me, Roses. MJ buggered off somewhere, so I stepped in as Miss Scarlet's still missing."
"Oh. Umm... OK, then." Tim gave me another look. I just rolled my eyes and shrugged. "Can you get us out of here?"
"You'll have to hold on a minute, Captain, Scotty's using the transporters at the moment. I'll call you when he's finished. Uhura, out." And with that she cut the connection.

~

Romulan Commander MJ

A transporter chime from the main quarters brought MJ out of her the Romulan Commander's dressing room where she'd collapsed in a chair in exhaustion after clearing up after Little Mouth.
"What the- ?"
A figure solidified in the beam.
"Zachary Quinto Spock?!" MJ was almost beside herself with lust. As the beam faded out, MJ's face fell in recognition. "Oh. Leonard Nimoy Spock. Oh, well. You'll do."
She rushed up to the freshly coalesced Spock and flung her arms around him.
"Huh?" Spock was alarmingly cardboardy.
A voice rang out over the comm as both MJ and Carboard Cut-out Spock dematerialised: "Surprise!"

~

"Enterprise to Captain Kirk."
"Kirk here. Go ahead Uhura."
"We're ready to beam you out now."
"About time. Two to beam out."
"Two?" Roses asked.
"Yeah. I've got the cloaking device." Tim sounded less than thrilled. "Only it's not a cloaking device, it's Cloaking DeVice, A.K.A. IDV."
"Ah. Oh. Stand by."
"Well. You needn't sound so disappointed" I said. "It wasn't my fault we ended up here."
"What?!" Tim was incredulous.
I looked at him blankly for a moment before remembering that, actually, it was my fault. "Oh, yes..."
Luckily the transporter beam caught us at that awkward moment.

~

Aboard the Enterprise, Tim and I headed to the bridge on a turbolift. The doors opened on to a scene unlike any either of us recognised from Star Trek.
Sulu and Chekov were bickering at their console in front of the viewscreen.
"I told you we'd only get a small part" Beast grumbled to CyberPetra.
"Yeah" moaned 'Petra. "Small part, no action. I knew I shouldn't've bothered coming back to play Chekov again."
A rather odd looking Romulan Commander with ill-fitting skin appeared to be sucking the face off making out with Commander Scott. Or was it Commander Tucker? The fit body and Southern accent certainly indicated it was the latter. Cardboard Cut-out Spock just looked on blankly.
"Ah don't feel comfortable doin' this in front of Spock" Eros mumbled in his Texan drawl, wiping Alien drool from his face.
"Well, he just stood there doing nothing. Besides, he's made of cardboard - What does he care?" MJ retorted letting Little Mouth out for another go.
And Uhura sat in the command chair resting her chin in her hand as she leaned on the arm, also surveying the goings on around her. She acknowledged our presence and the scene with a tremendous roll of her eyes.
"This corralling the crew is hard bloody work" she sighed. "Getting them all to be where they're supposed to be is exhausting. They're like a bunch of shitting kids! I'm not sure if I want to be the Corrallerererer Officer anymore."
"You're not quitting!" Tim burst out. "We've already gone through two Uhuras, I don't think I can cope with getting used to a fourth. You're staying put." Turning to me, he continued "Some belated birthday this has turned out to be."

The End

* One has to wonder if there are any minidads to go with the minimums?

8

I stole this from the lovely Savannah. Ages ago, I might add. I'm bringing it out now to bide myselves some time.

1. Why did you start blogging? Well, it was after I came across Glitter For Brains in Spring 2005 that I thought "This looks fun. I'd like to do something like it, too." Of course, my innate laziness meant that it wasn't until October 2005 that I actually got around to creating the blog. It was also the time that I, Inexplicable DeVice, witch extraordinaire, dropped in and made the Host's life more eventful and exciting!
And more troublesome, complicated and tiring.

2. If you could travel anywhere in the world, with no restrictions on cost, where would it be, and why? I'd love to go to Australia and Canada to meet other bloggers, and to Madagascar, Papua New Guinea or the South American rainforest to be where people are not and observe nature in the raw.

3. Did you have a teacher in school that had a great influence on your life? If so, what? I did, actually. And that teacher was The Mother! She used to teach at the primary/infant school I went to. She didn't teach me, but did have a big influence on my life, what with bringing me up and all.

4. If you could spend the day with a famous person, who would it be, and what would you do? Oh, gosh. Perv overload! There's nothing to say that this had to be tasteful, so my mind is now racing with images of Connor Trinneer, Jake Gyllenhaal, James Franco, Tim et al in various states of undress. However, decency may just kick in and-

Oh. Decency did kick in.

Thinking about it, though, I don't know if I would want to spend a day with someone famous as I'd get to know them a little which would kill their mystique.

5. Toilet paper - over or under? Most definitely over. Click here for more.

6. Name one thing in your life that you would do over if possible. Well, as long as it didn't screw with the space-time continuum, I'd, umm... Well, I don't know what I'd do over? I think that everything that's happened has made me what I - we - Sorry, what we, are today, so maybe we wouldn't change anything?

7. Tell us about your pets, if any. SP and I have a Moom. She's a very pretty Weimaraner and is our dog daughter.

8. Do you live in a small town or a large town? We live in a city. And to save Tim the bother of disagreeing (again), I have taken the liberty of posting a couple of earlier responses of his as to the status of Norwich. It is a small one, though, but definitely a city due to having at least one cathedral (Norwich has two cathedrals, actually, so our city-status is doubly assured).


Oops! I forgot about that second comment.

Daintiness always wins!

With another Coven member's help, I've discovered the embarassing reason why Tim keeps spurning my advances:


So, Tim, my daintiness is now assured thanks to new quick Lux. This will be a birthday we'll both remember!




Right. All that's left to do is to check out Memory Alpha to do a little research before heading over The Cusp. One can always count on it to supply pure, sweet facts:

The Gunpowder Plop

She said she was bursting for the loo. I didn't realise she meant it literally until she exploded.




I told her smuggling gunpowder would be her undoing.

The Passenger

The post I had hoped to bring you (and its sequels) are not yet fit for human consumption, so I bring you a short film instead. Not by me, obviously, as that would have entailed a lot of hard work. No. This film is by Chris Jones and can be found on YouTube (good old YouTube - The saviour of lazy bloggers everywhere) or at his home page. If you have seven minutes to spare I certainly recommend watching it. It really is very good!




For those of you who wondered what I meant by last Sunday's crackBOOM post - because you didn't read the secret text (kudos to xl, and probably Princess too for finding it), not that it was particularly revealing anyway - I had found myself plunged into a pit of despair and despondency, and couldn't get out of it to read all of your blogs, not to mention keep mine up to date. I managed to heave myself out, though, but not in time to finish the planned Hallowe'en postings. Sorry.
Anyway, I've left a hint on the aforementioned post if you do feel like reading it, and here are the snips from the comments that prove xl (and probably Princess, but definitely not BEAST) found the text:

'How many nipples hae ye got?'*

29. Good Omens, by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

Funnily enough, I liked this book better before IDV arrived on the scene. The bit where the angel Aziraphale takes up residence in rubbish medium Madam Tracy's body as they ride to avert the apocalypse on her elderly scooter (complete with Witch Finder Sergeant Shadwell on board), is now quite poignant.

Clicking here will take you to L-Space, where you can read some quotes and annotations from the book.

* from page 169.

30. Nero, by Mike Johnson, Tim Jones & David Messina

No you're not having deja vu, I have already read this book and posted about it. As you can see here - It's number 13.

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

Ummm... Yeah, I've read and posted about this one, too. Although, at least this one was from last year...

32. Strata, by Terry Pratchett

"The excavation showed the fossilized plesiosaur had been holding a placard which read. 'End Nuclear Testing Now'.
That was nothing unusual.
But then came a discovery which did intrigue Kin Arad.
A flat earth was something new..."

~ ~ ~

Yes, I know it's Hallowe'en today. No, this isn't the Hallowe'en post. I'll post it this evening when it is actually Hallowe'en.
Sorry I haven't got around to visiting your blogs lately - I've been somewhat... Inconvenienced.

What? Didn't anyone read the secret text in the last post?

* sigh * I don't know why I bother, I really don't ...

Oh, bugger.

I have inadvertantly ended up in a Dark Place. Quite which one I do not know?
As long as things go my way, I shall be out for All Hallows Eve.




Mwah hah hah hah haa!

The Freakin' Green Elf Shorts Map update

CyberPetra has finally rid Denmark of the 'Shorts. They are now safely ensconced in the mitts of Donn in Canada. So, with that in mind, I've updated the 'Shorts Map to show their latest global position:


As regular readers can see, I haven't yet redone the map as I've often threatened. I'll do it next time, I promise!

Anyway, Donn is holding the FGES Caption Competition as we speak. If you want to enter for a chance to feel the combustible fibres of the infamous 'Shorts rasping against your skin, then may I suggest you get yourself over to Donn's and leave a caption forthwith. I won't be entering again as I've already had the 'pleasure' of hosting the diabolical garment. However, any captions I do leave will be on behalf of Tim, who says he doesn't want the 'Shorts anywhere near his "awesome manparts" - his own words (and quite frankly, who are we to doubt him? I've even offered to inspect them and issue a certificate as to their awesomeness, but Tim has, strangely, yet to get back to me...) - but I think he secretly does!
For those few of you who have no idea what The Freakin' Green Elf Shorts are, click here for MJ's Definitive History.

Good luck!


P.S. Sorry I haven't got back to you in the comments of the last couple of posts, or even visited your own blogs lately, for that matter - Time has escaped me, but when I finally catch up to it, I'll pin it down so I can be more sociable.

Night* of the Living Lunch

The zombies seemed particularly eager this morning on my walk to work. As I upped my step from shuffle to plod to match their gait and, therefore, not draw any undue attention, I did a mental inventory of my bag in case I had to suddenly scarper to escape the massing hoardes. I wanted to be sure I had enough supplies to keep me going should the End Of The World arrive ahead of schedule.
I had a box of maple & pecan cereal that I had the foresight to put in my bag last night lest I forget to this morning. There were two apples, one from our tree and one from The Parent's, a slice of carrot & orange cake that The Mother brought around yesterday afternoon, and the wra-

Shiiiiiit! I'd forgotten my lunch!

I'd made a chilli chicken wrap this morning and left it in the fridge! I was so dejected that I thought about throwing myself in front of the nearest zombie and ending it all. Luckily, one of the SubC's stepped in and pointed out that SP may bring my lunch with him when he leaves for work so I could retrieve it from him at lunch time.

Not long after I got to work, I had an email from SP. He said he'd stop by my office and drop my lunch off when he comes to work. Yay! My belly's anticipation would get its just desserts. or main course, even.

Tragedy struck, however. He called me later - the line was really bad - and through his garbled words I heard him say he got stuck and couldn't make it. Oh no! I thought, I'd forgotten to tell him about the zombies! After I blurted out the story of my journey with the living dead this morning, he told me to stop being a silly witch and that he was just in a traffic jam. It turned out that there were no zombies milling about and that what I saw earlier must have just been the dead-eyed call-centre employees on their way to work. I wasn't convinced, though - I'm sure some of them must have been the undead.

SP emailed me again once he'd got to work and told me he gave my lunch to one of his work colleagues! Waaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh! My lunch!



* Although, technically, it was day...

Re-Coven-ing

A flash of light illuminates the whirling dust and coalesces into a figure. As the light dims, details can be made out. It is tall and appears to be wearing a cloak and a wide brimmed, pointed hat. As the light dims further, more details start to become apparent but, before its facial features become discernible, it raises a slender but male arm from within the billowing cloak and pulls the hat's brim down obscuring his face. His head sweeps from side to side, observing the featureless surroundings, except that there are features. Or, at least, there were. Remnants of things past litter the flat landscape: Old stories lie crumbling like fallen buildings. Narratives and tales wind through the old stories in advanced states of decay like the dead sloughed skins of giant serpents. Thoughts and ideas, once articulate and animated like birds in flight now lay where they fell, husks of nothing.
"Hmmm..." the figure mutters to himself. "This will do nicely" and he withdraws his other arm from the cloak, the folds of dark fabric catching and falling from the staff he holds. But it's not really a staff. The skyward pointing end is bound by stiff bristles and the long shaft is gnarled and twisted. The figure raises the broom and then quickly drives it down again, striking the dust.

Another flash of light heralds a second figure. Not as tall as the first, but also not as slight. It has a sculpted, athletic look to it - definitely male. Although appearing topless in the initial blinding light, telltale folds on the edges of the broad shoulders and narrow waist and hips disappointingly reveal that the lithely muscular man is wearing a fitted t-shirt. As he nods in greeting to the first figure and also surveys the surroundings, a third flash of light signals the arrival of someone else.

This one looks most peculiar in the fading bright aura. Very tall but, at a second glance, the height appears to be down to aides. Specifically, high heels and a towering wig. His eyes - despite the heels and wig, this one was most definitely a he - his eyes are surrounded by a halo of glitter as is his pouting mouth. His lips are full and slick with gloss and sparkling lipstick. An almost sheer, iridescent mermaid dress split to the upper thigh clings to his body and shapely legs before fanning out around his killer heels.

The fourth and fifth flashes of light don't appear as bright as the first three, but only because the sky around them is lightening in a sort of pseudo-dawn. The dust that had been swirling around in the breeze and filing down the ruins is almost all gone now leaving the plain flat and smooth. These final two figures appear to be male and female and they are bickering. The male, who wears a sensible anorak, carries a Roy Cropper bag full of Tupperware containers of, what smells like, chickpea curry. Resting atop these tubs are various types of tropical fruit but, strangely by their absence, no pineapples - Must be something to do with mau mau? The shapely female is barely wearing a plunging fitted top and carries a long leather whip which she threatens her companion with when unleashing a particularly nasty epithet aimed at him.

Suddenly, a shrill tone pierces the still, quiet atmosphere - It's an annoying Nokia-style ringtone. Four faces wince and turn to glare at the male carrying the bag, their eyes narrowed. The man in the anorak rummages frantically in his bag, spilling fruit everywhere until he pulls out an apple, but not of the fruit variety.
"Yes?" he hisses, answering the slab-like mobile phone. An authoritative, strident voice bellows from the tiny speaker, distorted by the volume. "But I'm in the middle of something" he whined. The distorted voice shouts something else. "No. It's really important." More harsh volume erupts from the phone. "But it's my day off!" What sounds like a scoffing laugh comes from the speaker. "But-"
"Oh, for Christ's sake!" the woman snaps and snatches the phone from the cowering, flinching man before throwing it to the ground and grinding it beneath her heel.
The other three figures breathe a collective sigh of thankful relief.

"This place is ripe for the taking" the First says only just loud enough to be heard over the whispering wind and still glowering at the ex-phone wielding man. "Come, let us gather our armies of darkness. Flying Monkeys, to me!"
"Red Shirts, assemble!" the Second commands.
"Entourage!" says the Third, snapping his well manicured fingers.
"Come hither, my League of Extraordinary HouseBoys!" the Fourth barks.
"Banana Splits" sighs the Fifth, clearly not entirely happy with his milling army.

The Second laughed as he observed the gathered troops. "The nightmare that became a reality and spread throughout the blogs" he observed in his best Captain Kirk voice.

And the Age of the Second Coven begins...

Oink! Farewell Piggy.

MJ emailed me this morning with some very sad news: Alas, our friend Piggy has passed on. Left this world for something new.

Piggy in his normal attire.

Anyway (Piggy's favourite word), I was privileged enough to have met John and Martin, aka Piggy & Tazzy, two years ago. I was pleased to discover that, as well as being a moaning, whinging, ginger cunt (Piggy's favourite insult), Piggy was also an intelligent, funny, opinionated (in a good way, of course) and loving man.

Piggy: You will be remembered fondly and with love. And also for your bum-bearing antics!

We can just kiss his arse goodbye.

Tazzy: You have my love and deepest sympathies.

If you didn't know Piggy very well, or just want to remember him and his antics (both real and made up), please visit MJ's blog by clicking here - MJ helpfully has a category in her blog labelled 'Piggy'.

Images courtesy of MJ.