Cusp Trek IV: Le Voyeur Homo

Continued from Cusp Trek III: The Search For Sanity...



 "How do you feel?" The computer intoned, growing ever more shrill. "How do you feel? How do you feel?"
 Cardboard Cut-out Spock just looked at it blankly until a scraping noise from behind distracted him. It was his mother, Cardboard Cut-out Amanda.
 "[silence]?" she asked her seemingly bewildered son.
 "[silence]" Spock replied.
 "[silence]" Amanda explained to her son.
 "[silence]"

Look. This does go on a bit, so let's just skip it. It's not even that important. Why would you even want to stick around not hearing what two cardboard cut-outs are not saying to each other due to their lack of vocal chords?
Spock's not even that important in this story anyway.
Oh, and if you're wondering why they're made of cardboard and not real bloggers, it's because Tim, split into his Virtuous and Vicarious halves, was playing both Kirk and Spock respectively in the first two Cusp Treks and now that he's become amalgamated he can't play both again.
Don't bother asking why someone else couldn't have played Spock and Amanda - The budget is already through the roof!

~ ~ ~

 "Right then" Tim said as we all stood next to our captured Dra'Kling Bus-class vessel Priscilla before boarding. "Are we all ready to go? Scotty?"
 "Aye, Sirrr" Eros confirmed, attempting to roll his R's in a Scottish accent.
 "Bones?"
 "Aye, Sir" I replied.
 "Sulu?"
 "Ye... Yes, Mr C- I mean, Aye, Sir" Beast flinched reflexively.
 "Uhura?"
 MJ was oblivious as she adjusted her bouffant, trying to cover up her Alien Queen crest with strands of hair.
 "Uhura?" Tim asked again
 MJ looked up at him, confusion slapped across her face. "Me?" she said, pointing at herself. Then the penny dropped. "Oh. Yessss. Me. Aye, Ssssir" she hissed at last.
 "Didn't you used to be Miss Scarlet? And drool less?" Before MJ could reply Tim shook his head as he noticed Chekov at the end of the line. "Never mind."
 "Chekov?" he questioned, leaning in for a close look. "CyberPete? Is that you under that Davy Jones wig?"
 "No, Sir. It's me: Princess!" Tim blushed as Princess curtsied at him suggestively. "'Petra said he had some business to attend to and asked if I could take his place. I said yes as I had nothing in particular on..." Tim's eyes widened at the obvious double entendre. "I had clothes on, of course!" Princess suddenly screamed, and batted Tim's shoulder then winked at him much to my disgust. "Ooh, you are awful!"
 "Oh gods" Tim muttered. "Right. Come on. Let's go before we have any more unannounced cast changes."

~ ~ ~

 "Shhhhit. What the Hell isss that beeping? Why won't it sssstop?" MJ flailed at the toggles and buttons on her communications switchboard desperately. "Why the Hell didn't I ressssearch thisss Ssstar Trek malarkey? And I musst try to stop hissssing, too." she continued to herself. "Oh, hang on..." she muttered as a comm channel came to life. "Uh... Tim, I mean Captain Kirk?"
 Tim turned in his seat, leaving the others to continue the discussion about the stacking ability of Lack tables from Ikea. "What is it, Uhura?"
 "I'm receiving a recorded message from Lieutenant Trillya of the starship Shepard."
 "Put it on speakers, then."
 After a couple of ham-fisted attempts, MJ eventually found the right control.
 "Do not approach planet Earth. The transmissions of an orbiting probe are causing critical damage to the Earth, almost totally ionizing the atmosphere. All power sources have failed and all Earth-orbiting starships are powerless. It's like gridlock in rush hour around here. The probe has vaporized soap opera sets and characters in Melbourne, Australia - We will not get any more episodes of Neighbours unless we can find a way to respond. Save your soap operas, save yourselves. Avoid the planet Earth at all costs. Farewell."
 "Shit."
 "Uhura, can you let us hear the probe's transmissions?"
 "Aye, Sir."
 A dreadful caterwauling erupted from the the Priscilla's speakers, distorting them horribly. Eventually, after much wincing and eye narrowing, MJ switched them off and we all took our fingers out of our ears.
 "[Silence]" commented Cardboard Cut-out Spock.
 "What was that, Spock?" Tim interpreted. "You think the signal signifies aliens of great intelligence that somehow, are unaware of the signal's destructive nature. You find it illogical that the probe's intention is hostile?"
 "Oh, so you think this is the Probe's way of saying 'Hi there' to the people of the Earth?" I snapped at Spock.
 "[Silence]" he responded.
 "Spock says: 'There are other forms of intelligence on Earth, Doctor. Only human arrogance would assume the message must be meant for man'."
 "Jeez" I sighed, exasperated.
 "Could the signal be meant for a lifeform other than man?" Tim asked.
 "Well, Lieutenant Trillya did say that the transmissions were aimed at Australia" MJ pointed out. 
 "That's crazy! Who would send a probe across the galaxy to talk to Australians?"
 "Not talk, Doctor. Listen" and Princess cocked his head to one side. "The transmissions sound almost like music - It could almost be called singing!" He turned to MJ and asked "Uhura, can you let us hear the Probe's transmissions accounting for regional accent, lung capacity and tightness of gold lamé hot pants?"
 "Yes, Prince- Sorry. Sorry. Yes, Chekov. On speakers."



 "Captain, I pressed some more buttons and twiddled a few knobs and discovered another transmission buried within the main signal. Translating now..." 
 A shrill, petulant voice erupted from the speakers: "Why have you stopped broadcasting Kylie's music? Where is she? And where's my champagne?" We all looked at one another in amazement as we recognised the voice. It was CyberPetra!
 "Well? Am I just supposed to hang around in orbit all day? And on my birthday, too. I demand immediate recompense for this disgraceful lack in standards. I want Kylie singing live for me. I'm not asking for the impossible - Just perfection. Surely you concede that I deserve it? Why can't you people buck your ideas up and resolve this fiasco?" 
 "Well. It seems we've no choice but to find Kylie and persuade her to give an impromptu concert for 'Petra" Tim sighed. "Anyone know where she lives?" 
 "Paris, I believe" I said. 
 "Right. Paris it is then. Everyone got your anti-jet lag pills? We'll be crossing several time zones on the way there."

~ ~ ~

 "Captain!" MJ blurted out not long after we arrived in Paris airspace. "I have live Kylie song! It's coming from directly ahead." She consulted her board again. "This is confusing - It's coming from the hospital."
 "Can you confirm?" 
 "Confirmed, Captain. Kylie is giving a small charity concert to aide the hospital." 
 "We have to get in there and get her to come to Australia with us. We'll need to look like doctors" Tim pondered. "There must be something in this giant dressing-up box of a vessel" he said holding up a particularly vile besequined spandex body suit between his thumb and forefinger and grimacing.
 We all rummaged through the cupboards, wardrobes and closets built into the Priscilla. 
 "Will these do, Cap'n?" Eros said triumphantly as he held aloft three white lab coats with only a minimal dusting of glitter.

~ ~ ~

 In the hospital we quickly located where Kylie was performing, but I stopped by an old lady obviously in pain. "What's the matter with you?" I said as Tim and Princess hurried on to get Kylie. 
 "Kidney... Dialysis" she moaned. 
 "Dialysis?!" I was aghast. "What is this, the Dark Ages?" I muttered as I reached into my bag and produced some pills, giving one to her. "Here. Swallow this. If there's any problem, call me." 
 As I strode down a corridor to find Tim and Princess, they found me.
 "Oof!" I said as the stretcher they were pushing bashed into my leg.
 "Run!" Princess cried, bashing me again with the stretcher. 
 "What's going on?" I said running alongside them. "Who's under there?" I pointed to the struggling mound on the stretcher covered in a sheet.
 "Kylie" Tim said. "She wouldn't come willingly so Princess stuffed her mouth full of tongue depressors to stop her protesting and we... Well, we kidnapped her."
 "Oh, gods..." I swore. 
 As we careered down the long corridors towards the exit, I spied some commotion around an old lady's bed - The same old lady I'd hurriedly treated on the way in for kidney failure. 
 "The doctor gave me a pill and I grew a new head! The doctor gave me a pill and I grew a new head!" she shrieked from both mouths.
 "Oh, drat! Wrong pill" I muttered as we ran past.

~ ~ ~

 Once back aboard the Priscilla, we returned to Australia but before we could land, 'Petra's infernal transmissions disrupted our ship's systems.
 "By all means move at a glacial pace. You know how much that thrills me." And he continued: "It's just baffling. Why is it so impossible to put together a decent run-through? You people have had hours and hours to prepare. It's just so confusing to me." 
 Unfortunately, we had no choice but to listen to his tirade as we crashed into Port Phillip Bay. Once we'd all dragged ourselves out of the Priscilla and had congregated on it's roof, we contemplated what to do next.
 "Quick" Tim urged. "Throw her in!"
 "What?!" Kylie was livid. "Rack off. I'm a pop star not a wha-"

* splash *

 "Why doesn't she sing?" Tim asked plaintively after having pushed the diminutive singer into the choppy sea.
 "I'm a doctor, not an expert in human biolo-" I began before realising that, in fact, I was supposed to be an expert in human biology. "Because she's drowning, you dolt!" I snapped at Tim as he struggled to keep her head under water.
 "Get 'er oot of thar!" said Eros in an almost convincing Scottish accent, then hauled her out of the cold waves.
 "Sing, godsdammit!" Tim clenched his fists in impotent rage. Eros had laid Kylie out on the hull and was looking expectantly at me. 
 "What?" I snapped again. 
 "Yurrrr th' doctorrr" he drawled, his accent not so good this time.
 "Ohforheavenssakes" I muttered rolling my eyes as I contemplated mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. "No" I declared as I straddled Kylie. "I haven't kissed a girl yet, and I'm sure as hell not going to start now." I began beating her chest with my right hand instead. 
 "Stop punching her in the boob!" MJ cried. 
 "Yeah, you do that in Star Trek VI to revive Chancellor Gorkon, remember?" Beast surprised everyone by backing up MJ.
 "What? Oh. Yes." Kylie stirred beneath me. "Are you all right, Miss Minogue?" 
 Glaring at me through narrowed eyes as she propped her self up on her elbows, Kylie answered "Just about. And get off me!" Once I'd disengaged from her, Kylie got to her feet and started rubbing her left boob. "Ooh, that really hurt, you quack!" 
 "Look, are you going to sing, or not?" Tim interjected. "CyberPetra will destroy the planet, if not." 
 "OK, OK. Here goes:"



 "Oh! You did it! Thank you" 'Petra gushed from orbit. "Now, just sing Celebration in honour of my birthday then we can call it quits."

The end?

Hssssssssssss

 Happy birthday CyberPete!

Cusp Trek III deleted scenes

The Enterprise hung before the Priscilla, small explosions pitting it's alabaster hull. Suddenly, the saucer section was consumed in a massive explosion, propelling debris everywhere. Some of it heading towards them. One piece in particular struck the rear axle, but no one noticed as it didn't cause any damage.

The debris was Commander Krude. And she was still alive!

Under the Priscilla, Krude reached out and grabbed the rear axle, her skin splitting apart like a giant chrysalis. Except that instead of a beautiful butterfly an horrific Alien Queen emerged!


She wormed her way up the waste pipe of the Priscilla and into the small lavatory cubicle recently vacated by Malteser. MJ didn't have to wait long before Uhura popped in...

"There'ssssss ssssssssomeone in here!" She called out grinning and drooling as the cubicle door opened on her.
"Holy crap!" Miss Scarlet cried as she skidded in the drool and careered head long into MJ's outstretched arms - All six of them!
"Thissss'll teach you to undermine the Infomaniac Housssssse of Beauty" and MJ paralysed poor Miss Scarlet with her tail stinger before relieving her of her make-up bag and stripping her of her uniform and wig. After bundling her up in thick resin secreted from her slavering maw, MJ stuck Miss Scarlet to the ceiling, squeezed into the Starfleet uniform, pulled on the wig and trowled on some slap.
"There" she said, checking out her reflection in the mirror. "I'm good to go!"
"Ha!" Miss Scarlet scoffed before passing out.

"People don't need bridges, they use hovercars."*

Blimey! I've just realised that I've already read more books this year so far than in all of 2008 (23 in total - my best reading year since taking up blogging). So, without further ado, may I present the three books I've read this month:


26. Star Trek - The Art of the Film, by Mark Cotta Vaz

This was a birthday present from Indescribable. Although my birthday was back in March, Indescribable only saw fit to give me this book at the end of August - Lazy, thoughtless wench. Still, it was a nice surprise as I'd completely forgotten that she hadn't given me anything!
This took barely any time to read as it is mostly pictures, which is a bit disappointing as the last Art of Star Trek had quite a lot of text to go with its images, giving explanations and history for them.

* From page 51.


27. The Time Traveller's Wife, by Audrey Niffenegger

This one's a re-read. I first read it back in 2006 and it became part of this book meme.

It's still a lovely read: Intriguing, thoughtful, emotional and revealing.


28. Star Trek: Strange New Worlds, edited by Dean Wesley Smith

This is an anthology of short stories "by the fans, for the fans!", the first in a series of ten. My favourite story amongst the twenty in this book is second prize winner: Of Cabbages and Kings, by Franklin Thatcher. The short story is about how the Enterprise NCC 1701-D deals with its sudden instant transport to another universe leaving all the crew behind.

I have to confess that I didn't read all the stories in this book as this is another re-read and I only wanted to read my favourite ones.

Cusp Trek III: The Search For Sanity

  Continued from Cusp Trek II: The Lust of IDV...

 "C'mon" Vicarious Tim wheedled from within me.

Not that type of within mores the pity, just think of him as an extra SubC. Look, I've even gone so far as to colour him in red to make it easier for us all.

 "I want to go to yoga."

 "Well, I don't" I retorted.
 "But you ought to go - You're very stiff."
 "No. You are. And I'm going to stay here with Monsieur Palm and his five strapping sons to sort that out."
 "Urgh! You're not. We're going to go to yoga. And that's final!"
 "Ooh, I love it when you're all commanding and masterful" I teased humourlessly as the part of Vicarious Tim within Broom manoeuvred our transportation to my grasp.
 Tim shuddered within me. Again, not that type of within, unfortunately. Before we could bicker any further, the doorbell rang. I was expecting The Coven at some point but didn't think they'd be around until the afternoon.
 "Oh, dear gods" I muttered. "What lousy timing." Then, in a louder voice, for the door sensors to pick up, "Enter."
 The front door swished open to reveal a figure in a hoody standing in the shadows. It raised it's hands and lifted the hood back.
 "Tim!" I gasped.


It's probably best to keep reading while listening to this - It does go on a bit.
 
 After inviting the Virtuous Tim in and plying him with coffee and Fondant Fancies, I asked him why he had sought me out after all these months.
 "I have come to extract Vicarious Tim so that he may take his rightful place with me again" he said through a mouthful of feather-light sponge and pink icing.
 "Oh, thank gods" I almost cried with relief. "He's driving me crazy with all his demands, and just look at these blisters on my fingers and palms from spending too much time with his long, thick shaft." Virtuous Tim nearly spat out his cake.
 "What?!" he choked.
 "You know" I said, confused and slightly alarmed by Virtuous Tim's extreme reaction. "I've been riding him a lot." The look on Virtuous Tim's face alternated between horror and violation.
 "You mean, you've been... Uh... You know... Umm..." he stuttered.
 "Oh, no. Not that! That fizzled out pretty quickly." I shuddered as I remembered all the arguments and clashes over dominance and detail. "No. Once demolecularised, there was a lot of him to go around, so what I couldn't channel into Broom, I took within me. He's very demanding: Yoga, gigs, shopping, Ikea, bike riding... He won't let me sit still! If I'd known just how high maintenance he is, I wouldn't've bothered taking him within me and Broom in the first place." Virtuous Tim was visibly relieved.
 "Well" he said, "It sounds like I arrived in the nick of time. We'll fly to Australia Vulcan where the reintegration ceremony will take place."
 "Austra- I mean: Vulcan?" I was aghast. "Not on Broom, we won't. Not if we want to get there in one piece!"
 "Don't worry" Virtuous Tim reassured me. "In the time it's taken you to post part three of this story, I've commandeered a starship to transport us: The Enterprise!"
 I rolled my eyes and muttered about a starship being overkill for a trip only half way around the planet. Luckily, Virtuous Tim was oblivious to my reaction as he continued to talk.
 "My crew are standing by ready to receive us. I'd be grateful if you'd give the word, IDV?"
 "The word is given" I sighed, humouring him, as I put down my coffee and stood up, grabbing Broom as I did so. I stood there for several seconds, perplexed as Virtuous Tim headed towards the door. "Umm... Aren't we going to beam up?" I asked.
 "Ah... No. She's parked outside" he explained somewhat defensively and left the building.

 ~

Outside Castle DeVice, Miss Scarlet, Eros, 'Petra and Beast loitered.
 "It's better than the first one, anyway" Miss Scarlet said.
 "Well, pretty much anything would be" Eros replied. "I told him glueing a couple of nacelles on to his MINI Clubfootman wouldn't cut it."
 "At least this one almost looks the part" Beast said. "And we can all fit inside it."
 "Where did you find it again, Beast?" Beast looked a bit shifty before he answered 'Petra.
 "Umm... Oh, it was just lying at the roadside somewhere in Alberta. Ahem."
 "Well, it looks fabulous. And Eros has done a fantastic job of fixing up the innards."
 "Thanks, 'Petra."
 "Look out!" Beast hissed. "Here they come!"

 ~

 "There she is" Virtuous Tim pointed. "My ship: The Enterprise!"
 I looked over to where Tim was pointing and saw a group of familiar looking people dressed in Starfleet uniforms suddenly come to attention beneath a large, rather amateur-looking model of the USS Enterprise.
 "And this is my crew" he said as we approached them. "You remember Scotty" Eros smiled politely in greeting and gave us a very un-Scottish 'Howdy'; "Uhura" Miss Scarlet smiled a little uncomfortably, then, when Tim wasn't looking, raised her phaser to her temple and faked blowing her head off; "Sulu and Chekov, don't you?" Beast and 'Petra just grimaced at each other and rolled their eyes.
 "Yes, of course I do" I replied a little testily, realising just what fantasy Virtuous Tim was playing out.
 "Now, now, Bones" he admonished. "Although, I suppose I can understand what with you having Spock, AKA Vicarious Tim, inside you."
 I sighed and smiled fakely, but Virtuous Tim didn't seem to notice. I guessed that he was going slightly crazy as only half a person, and was finding solace in a world created from his interests and career. Sighing again, I followed the others and boarded the ship, taking the only spare seat on the bridge at the science station.
 "Set course for Vulcan, best speed." Beast and 'Petra grimaced at each other again as they plotted a course for Australia. "Scan for vessels in pursuit."
 "Scanning: Indications are negative at this time" I, or rather Vicarious Tim said through me. Everyone turned to look at me, surprise plastered over their faces. "Did I get it right?" I asked.
 "You did great, Bones. Just great" Virtuous Tim replied.
 "Oh, no, wait!" I took another look at the sensor data, this time without Vicarious Tim's interference. "A Dra'Kling ship is decloaking!" I put the image of the pink ship up on the main viewscreen. "It's a Bus-class long range scout. Hull markings identify it as one QotD Priscilla."
 "Shields up" Virtuous Tim ordered. "Fire photon torpedo!"
 Beast scoured the board in front of him. "I can't find the 'fire' button" he wailed. "Where is it? Oh, don't worry: I've got it" he said, much to our relief, and rather belatedly pressed the big red 'fire' button that was right in front of his face.
 Unfortunately, he was too late. The Dra'Kling ship had already fired two rather disgusting looking torpedoes right at us!
 "Oh, no! Poutine torpedoes incoming!"
 "Reverse course! Evasive manoeuvres!" But it was too late. The poutine torpedoes splattered against our windshield and clogged up the plasma exhaust vents and torpedo tubes. We were immobilised!
 "We're being hailed." "On screen" Tim ordered. The viewscreen snapped into life displaying three familiar-looking women in elaborate costume.
 "Ah, Tim-"
 "Captain Kirk, actually" Tim said peevishly.
 "Whatever. Anyway, we meet at last" the central figure with the severe fringe/bangs greeted him. "I am Commander Krude" MJ said, "and these are my officers Malteser and Skoda Felicia" she indicated to Snooze and Dinah, respectively.
 "Why are you dressed as men?" Beast asked.
 "Why are you even here?" Krude/MJ snapped back. "Anyway, shut up, I'm talking to Ti- Captain Kirk" and she turned her attention to Tim again. "It seems we have you at a disadvantage so prepare to be boarded."
 "Give me a minute to inform my crew."
 "I give you two minutes for you and your gallant crew."
 "Shit! What are we going to do?" 'Petra said with a hint of panic once Miss Scarlet had switched the intercom off.
 "Don't worry. I have a foolhardy but also foolproof plan" Tim replied. "When they beam over here, we'll beam over there after setting the self destruct!" A round of gasps erupted from the crew. "What? You've seen Star Trek III haven't you? You knew this was going to happen. Besides, time's up - We have to get going." He turned to Eros, who was inexplicably wearing nothing but his blue underwear. His look now matched his southern accent - he was more Trip than Scotty. Somehow, Tim managed to overlook this and asked "Scotty, have you set the self destruct?"
 "Aye, Sir" Eros confirmed. "Ah've poured sugar in the fuel tank and stuck a potato up the exhaust. She's all set, Cap'n."
 "Good work, Mr Scott. Now, beam us over." Eros twiddled some knobs and the transporter beam took us.
 We materialised on board the Priscilla, surprising Malteser who'd been in the loo and so wasn't transported to the Enterprise with Krude, Skoda and the rest of the crew.

 ~

 Aboard the Enterprise, Krude was livid.
 "Where are they?" MJ raged.
 "Haven't you seen Star Trek III either?" Dinah answered with an exasperated sigh.
 "Tim, IDV and co beamed over to our ship when we beamed here. If you want to join the Coven, you'll have to have more than a passing knowledge of Star Trek, you know."
 "Why the Hell didn't you warn me before we beamed over?"
 "Durrr... Because it would've ruined the story, of course!"
 "But now we're trapped here" MJ looked at the temperature gauge, the needle of which was wobbling about in the red 'danger' zone, "and about to explode!"
 "I don't care. I'm out of here, anyway. I've had enough of blogging so this is my way out."
 "You can't just go and leave me here!"
 "Watch me" Dinah said. "Good luck. Byeeee!" And she disappeared.

 ~

 "What the-?" Snooze-as-Malteser started as Beast kicked open the cubicle door. She hastily dropped her book and pulled her trousers up as she stood up. "How embarrassing" she said as Tim looked her up and down. "I don't deserve to live."
 "Fine. I'll kill you later" Tim flippantly agreed before returning to the cabin and peering out the window.
 The Enterprise hung before the Priscilla, small explosions pitting it's alabaster hull. Suddenly, the saucer section was consumed in a massive explosion, propelling debris everywhere. Some of it heading towards them. One piece in particular struck the rear axle, but no one noticed as it didn't cause any damage.
 "My God, Bones" Tim said. "What have I done?"
 I rolled my eyes again, knowing what I had to say. "What you had to do. What you always do. Turn death into a fighting chance to live."
 "C'mon. Let's get out of here" Miss Scarlet said nudging Eros, Beast and 'Petra.
 "Which one's the damn anti-matter inducer?" Eros asked scanning the dashboard.
 "This?" 'Petra said pointing at a small black button. "No, this!"
 "This or nothing" Beast said prodding the green button 'Petra had pointed to last.
 The Priscilla surged forward. We were on our way to Australi- Shit, sorry - Vulcan.

 ~

 On 'Vulcan', we were greeted enthusiastically by Dora and her retinue of scantily clad bimbos.
 "G'day! You made it, then?"
 "Dora! Great to see you" Tim and I cried before remembering we were still supposed to be in the story.
 "Come on then" she beckoned. "They're waiting for us up top." And with that she and her bimbos escorted us up a massive red rock where the ceremony to re-fuse Tim's vicarious spirit with his virtuous body was to take place.
 In the circular open-air temple at the top were two blow up li-los, several large incense burners that looked suspiciously like barbecues (the smell thay gave off was definitely mouth watering) and a throne flanked by six muscular men wearing only swimming trunks. Sitting in the throne was another familiar face.
 "Miss Smuggersham!"
 "Well, it's T'Bird for the purposes of this story, actually" she said. "You know, what with Vulcan females generally having names that start with T apostrophe. I thought I'd haul out the old moniker. Great to see you! Now, you lot" and she waved at 'Petra, Beast, Eros and Miss Scarlet "make yourselves at home. There's some tinnies in that ice bucket over there and plenty of prawns on the barbie.
 "Who's the keeper of the vicarious spirit, then?" T'Bird asked getting down to business.
 "That'd be me" I raised my hand, the one that wasn't holding Broom. "Son of The Mother, son of The Father."
 "The danger to thyself is as grave as the danger to Tim. You must make the choice."
 "I choose the danger" I stated, then muttered "Hell of a time to ask..."
 "OK. Pop yourselves down over here on these li-los and I'll see what I can do." Tim and I laid down either side of T'Bird. "Well, take your tops off, then!" she commanded. "I need skin to skin contact for this to work."
 I removed my top, glad that the SubCs had bullied me into continuing with my morning swims and not letting myself go. Tim on the other hand looked horrified. T'Bird noticed his reticence at derobing.
 "Don't worry" she said to him, "I don't need you and IDV to be in direct contact" she didn't see my look of disappointment as she spoke to Tim, "I'll be the conduit."
 Tim breathed a sigh of relief then pulled his top off, luckily not hearing my and T'Bird's gasps of awe as his top rustled past his ears. T'Bird winked at me as we both ogled his six-pack and impressive chest. My hand tightened around Broom's thick shaft.
  
 "Right then" she said. "Let's do it!" And with that she closed her eyes and began the spell to remove Tim's vicarious spirit from me and Broom and instill it within his virtuous, totally hot, body.

 Hours later, after much ogling and feeling up by T'Bird, the ceremony was complete. As was Tim. I, however, felt somewhat empty and staggered a little as we made to join the others at the now cold barbecues. Tim reached out to steady me, a questioning look on his face.
 "Are you OK? Do you know who I am?"
 "Tim" I said. "Your name is Tim."

 "...and the Adventure continues in Cusp Trek IV: Le Voyeur Homo..." 


 Oh, and click here for deleted scenes.


 P.S. This is my 600th post!
 

Strop

OK, so we have decided to keep the Coven - Mainly because "fellow senior member" Tim had a diva strop (watch out 'Petra - You have competition) and threatened to leave because I'd inadvertantly forgotten to consult him! Obviously, I relented as I didn't want to be 'dancing on my own'.



Anyway, I have decided to unveil the new Coven lineup on the 5th anniversary of this blog which will be on 9th October. But before then there is another celebration of note (two, if we include 'Petra's birthday on the 29th of this month): The 600th post! In fact, this is post number 599 so I had better be off to think of something worth posting next time.

Farewell Dinah

Here I am!

I know it looked like I was going to become a Weekend Blogger, but I can assure you that's not going to happen.

Hey? Who groaned?

Anyway, here I am blogging on a Wednesday - What more proof do you need?

Now. We'd better get down to business. And sad business at that: The Coven (as it was) is no more!

As you may have noticed, two of the Coven, Miss Smuggersham (formerly T-Bird) and Dora, have pretty much retired and are now on emergency standby duty only. Now, one of the remaining three members (including myselves, of course) has left the Blog World after four years of exemplary service: Dinah, your shoes can never be filled. Not because you've got weirdly shaped, big feet (you haven't, have you?), but because of who you are and what you've brought us.
Sadly, I can't link to any of her previous posts as they've all disappeared bar one, but Dinah has entertained us with, amongst other things, Olympic diving hunks, the 50 Book Challenge, snow, Librarian Girl, the delights of Tim (yay!) Hortons (oh), drunken blogging, TV shows & ads, a new job & apartment and, of course, her cocktail swigging South Park avatar!

This means there is now a coven of two which is highly unnatural and will encourage even more bickering so we'll never get anything done. We need more members!

I was considering holding X-Factor/Pop Idol-type auditions to try and pick new coven members, but I hate those shows and their cruelty of broadcasting the deluded, blatantly useless wannabes hapless attempts at singing. Instead, I have come up with a shortlist of experienced bloggers:

CyberPetra - Somewhat difficult due to being so highly strung. His diva-strops and thirst for champagne are legendary.
MJ - Is she too much of an adversary? Also prone to diva-strops and pretty much anything with even a sniff of alcohol champagne.
Beast - Unreliable due to the demands of Mr C? Then there's the stench from his duvet...
ErosWings - His morals may be a little high for some of the high jinks. Although, there was this (scroll about quarter of the way down to 'The prolific and hilarious YNF').
Spike - Certainly needn't worry about his morals (I believe he 'misplaced' them somewhere in 1987...), but the attendance register shows a lot of sick absences.
Tazzy & Piggy - So stripey and unruly! Plus, Piggy's binbag of a starfish would endanger us at every bending moment.
Snooze - I'm a little perturbed by her scary empathy with past-its-use-by-date fruit & vegetables.
Princess - Hmmm... Not enough experience as a Flying Monkey?

Or, perhaps I should just forget about the whole thing and disband the coven entirely?* After all, to some it may appear segregational or show favouritism. It's not, I can assure you - I just need someone who can keep their head in a crisis and cast a spell/hex/glamour in a tight spot. And that wasn't a euphemism!

Oh, what do do?!


* And keep Tim as my pet, obviously.

We can all safely say "cake" whilst MJ is out!*

Cake! Cake! Cake!

As requested by Ponita, here are the secret cakes I made for SP (which he thought were lovely and not rude, Tim).



Thank you all for the compliments about the previous cake, by the way. My laziness has kicked in with a vengeance, hence the lack of individual replies in the last post.



* A quote from a very wise blogger.

Birthday cake

Because I haven't got anything finished at the moment, may I present to you the cake I made for The Mother's birthday last week:



Unfortunately, SP liked it so much that he's practically forcing me to make another one just for him. I'm not going to though. Although, I have relented and made a smaller one that he doesn't know about which I've yet to decorate.

'Apparently Daddy's being a bit of a cunt'*

Oh dear. What with one thing and another (namely getting rid of errant mythological infestations), I've only had the chance to read one book this month. Still, one is better than none, I suppose? And just like the last book, I read the majority of this one between calls at "work".

25. Getting rid of Matthew, by Jane Fallon.

Yes, it's chick-lit. But it's actually pretty good. Here's what some other people said about it.
I've had this book hanging around for ages, always putting it aside for another (usually Star Trek or Calvin & Hobbes-based) until I discovered the other day that I don't have any other books to read that I hadn't read before. In fact, this was one of the books that was in the loft that I couldn't be bothered to go up and get back in March.

Oh my gods! I've just wiki'd 'Jane fallon' for the link above and discovered that she's going out with that irksome clod Ricky sodding Gervais! Although, on the plus side, she has been involved with some of my favourite TV shows: Teachers, 20 things to do before you're 30 and This Life. Perhaps that would explain why I liked this book?



* said Claudia, who'd been practising and had a feeling she might be allowed to get away with it at that moment. 'Isn't he, Mum?'
Sophie laughed despite herself.
'Yes, sweetheart, he is a bit. And don't say that word.'

From page 62.

A matter of time

It was whilst rooting through a box of old toys that I started to contemplate the mechanics of time travel. Plus, I'd just watched Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home in which Kirk and crew travel back in time in an old Klingon Bird of Prey to bring two humpback whales to their present to save Earth from the deadly transmissions of an orbiting probe.

Time travel, you see, is like travelling through a Slinky. When one enters the time stream, the most probable timeline spirals away directly ahead. However, glance left or right, up or down, and one can - somewhat nauseatingly - observe other less probable timelines branching of the main line. The further away from dead ahead one looks, the more peculiar - and nauseating the experience - will be.

Try not to lose your balance and fall in, though, as it's a bugger attempting to get back to where you entered. Oh, and try not to vomit, too, as Temporal Puke is a sod to clear up as it spreads rapidly down the spirals.

A Sequence of Unpalatable Events

Time is fleeting, so I shall just present you with this brief series of minor calamities that have plagued me (so far) this week:

Sunday, 18:57 - Rifling through the freezer looking for something to have for dinner, I thought I saw a bag of peas move all by itself. Poking the peas with a lolly revealed a pair of eyes peering back at me from behind a garlic baguette. It seems we have a very small yeti living in our freezer.

Monday, 19:17 - I hear a faint scream of pain as I cut a ciabatta in half. After checking that the SubCs are OK, I resume the cutting, thinking that I must have imagined it. Another scream puts paid to the imagination theory. After a very close inspection of the ciabatta, I discover that it is, in fact, just a bread product after all. Slamming the bread knife down in frustration reveals the whereabouts and identity of the screamer: There was a wood nymph in the chopping board!

Tuesday, 03:46 - Three nannies land on the roof. How do I know this? Because of all the clattering and banging around, not to mention swearing that would make a sailor blush. And not one of them was as graceful as that evil witch Poppins. Moom was barking, SP was swearing and the gargoyles were lumbering about trying to avoid the errant nannies, scraping their stone feet, knuckles and tails across the tiles making a noise similar to, but louder than, fingernails scraping down a blackboard.
In the far more civilised morning, Moom discovered a brolly wedged in the fireplace and proceeded to shred the fabric from the metal ribs, discarding it all over the living room floor.

Wednesday, 17:33 - Get home from work to discover the landing carpet is very damp. Entering the bathroom provides the reason: Fishface has found out where I now live and taken up residence in the bath again! SP is understandably livid. Bloody naiads.

Thursday, 16:59 - Arrived home twenty minutes later than I'd hoped due to being waylaid by roadworks, only to find out that Svaathor has turned up early (I'd asked him to pop 'round to remove the naiad as he's experienced in such matters) and brought his (very hot) nephew and great niece.
Stunned at Gathiir's incredible good looks and super-fit body (Gathiir is one of the more human-looking Centaurs - Two legs, two arms, but rather horse-like ears and a splendid tail!), I was oblivious to stepping in his daughter's poo until he somewhat apologetically pointed it out. It seems they'd turned up an hour and a half ago but little Calreed couldn't hold on longer than an hour and a quarter.

Friday, 07:56 - SP unwittingly found out where that manticore went a couple of weeks ago.
"Where's the measuring jug?" he yelled from the kichen as I was moisturising in front of the mirror on the landing.
"In the cupboard under the sink" I yelled back, wondering if I had time to pluck my eyebrows.
"I've looked - It's not there" he replied a little testily.
"It bloody is!" I countered, having put it back there after he left it out last month when he used it to fill his car's screen wash up. "It's at the back, behind your flask." I started downstairs then heard an almighty crash.
"Fucking 'ell!" Careering down the rest of the stairs and into the hall, I saw SP brandishing the jug in the face of a now man-sized manticore admidst splintered shelves and bottles of cleaning products.
"Rrrrrrrooooooooooowwwaaarrrrrhhhh!" the beast roared.
With a very plasticky 'clonk', SP hit the manticore over the head with the jug. "Get out!" he almost screamed.
Very surprisingly, the manticore put a very hurt and pathetic look on it's face and it's tail between it's legs before running out of the kitchen, through the sun room and out the front, across the road, disappearing amongst the trees.
"Oh" I said, surveying the mess. "That's where it went."

And Today - To top it all off, that troll must have followed me home and has set up home under the stairs. I found it not an hour ago crouched behind the Dyson stuffing it's face with dog biscuits. I thought they'd been going rather quickly.
Anyway, after everything else that's happened, I just sighed, closed the cupboard door and left it there. I'll warn SP about it later.

But just where in Christmas are all these minor deities and mythological monsters coming from? Did someone turn the Ley-lines up to eleven? What next? A Phoenix in the oven?

Is anyone else being persecuted by preposterous pests?

Troll bridge

Last week, there was a troll under the bridge I use to cross the river and get to work. Luckily, it seemed only to be visible to Cusp dwellers, the undead, the almost undead (i.e. me) and goats* rather than the general public. I mean, can you imagine the uproar if commoners caught sight of a bloody troll? It'd be like Cloverfield all over again. Although on a slightly smaller scale...



Anyway, I first saw it on Thursday as I was crossing Riverside Road in front of the train Station. Luckily, it was just returning to it's lair under the Foundry bridge [image via] after trying to eat Fekxzl, the Aviva (nee Norwich Union) Hell Portal demon. Quite why it didn't eat him I don't know, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it may have been due to Fekxzl's personal hygiene. Or lack thereof. So, I obscured myself and crossed the bridge hoping that the troll would have moved on by the time I left work.
It hadn't. I could see it lurking as I approached from Prince Of Wales Road. I was positive that it hadn't spotted me, so I obscured myself again and crossed the road hoping to get lost amidst a crowd of youths going the same way and make it safely to the other side. I almost made it, too. Almost.

It leapt up spitting and drooling, totally ignoring the tasty teenage delinquents (and in turn was ignored by them - After all, teenagers are more often than not far too self absorbed to notice anything other than themselves), fixating it's bloodshot gaze squarely at me. It gave me quite a start, let me tell you!
I glanced around just in case it was glaring at someone (or something) else, but my immediate vicinity was devoid of troll-prey. Having no other choice, I confronted the slavering beast and, after much sidestepping to avoid the dripping slobber, convinced it to eat a couple of the teenagers who were at that point slouching around at the other end of the bridge. To be fair, they were horrible little monsters and quite probably were actual demon spawn.

What I didn't appreciate was being thanked by the troll - with it's mouth still full of teenager - for pointing out the young and tender option, rather than just letting it eat a tough and stringy looking me!



* Norwich, being slap bang in the middle of a farming county, still sees it's fair share of farm animals wandering the streets. Although, the main type of farmyard creature found at large here are ducks, rather than goats.