The Eights’ Shift, Stories

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  • #98
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      And Opening.

    Viewing 13 replies - 301 through 313 (of 313 total)
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    • #2479
      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        Eggwoot, rather bored by the meeting of the heads, rolled outside to enjoy a sneaky peagarette. He was startled to see a group of alien bodies in the distance making strange contortions.

        “Are they dancing?” he wondered, intrigued.

        #2480
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          The pear shaped alien bodies began to falter one by one, treading on each others appendages, and bumping into each other.

          #2481
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Unable to hear, see, smell or taste in the usual manner, they sensed sound, aromas, sights and flavours with the sense threads that hung from their shoulders. Unfortunately sense threads were out of fashion this season and the aliens had plucked them all out, not wishing to appear passe and frumpy. Without their sense threads, however, they failed to notice that their appearance would no longer be appearing in any sense whatsoever to any of their friends. The senseless endeavour remained unsensed entirely, until the appearance of Eggboot, who immediately sensed (using a variety of sense apparatus) that this was all a strange kind of none sense party.

            #2482
            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              Interestingly enough (or oddly enough one would say), in such reality, the bodies alone were reproducing while the heads had to constantly find out new bodies to cling to — when they felt the desire for movement, that is.

              At least, that’s what the Forehead was thinking while shaving — as it did not have enough appendages to be able to meditate while defecating, which was by far, it was told, the best method of enlightenment known to Peasmen and other sensible beings.
              Anyway, how odder can it be, it thought again. It may well be time to shift all of this a bit — why would each head need such a renewal of bodies and thus incarnations (or more properly, “embodiments”) without itself changing. Funnily enough, the alien bodies had in fact no need for heads. They actually had more than one: one for each of the sensory tendrils coming out of their shoulders. And according to them, Peasland bodies could very well start their ®evolution just now.

              #2483
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                Lilac stealthily inched closer, curious to see how the Forehead shaved, and what it was that he felt the need to shave, notwithstanding the apparent difficulties. Unfortunately the Forehead was hidden behind the Pate, which was gleaming in the moonlight, but otherwise quite expressionless, giving away nothing.

                #2484

                “Greetings”, said the Alien, via one of his sense tendrils. “I want to install a headless server. I am thinking of just installing a basic Debian Sarge distro and run it at runlevel 3.”

                “I think you’re in the wrong dimension, mate” replied Lavender. “This is runlevel 8.”

                #2485
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  The alien bodies loved to dance. “Let’s do the time warp again!” they shouted in unison.
                  “It’s just a jump to the left…”

                  The peeping Peaslander was won over by such enthusiasm. “What is your secret?” he asked, beguiled, yet raucous a tad.
                  “Oh, well, the alien named Comice replied, are you sure you want to hear it?”
                  “Come on, I’m dying of impatience”
                  Comice gave a sideways look at her friend Williams’ Bon Chretien. Then she enunciated very deliberately: “Malkoovich”

                  #2486
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    By the time the peeping peaslander had finally come round, more than a week later, the aliens had gone. Lilac sat up slowly, rubbing her head. Where am I? she frowned. WHERE AM I?

                    #2487
                    ÉricÉric
                    Keymaster

                      Persia, I guess… That’s what was written on his paper at least.
                      Always helpful and keen on sending his friends onto new quest for clues. That was him.

                      #2488
                      ÉricÉric
                      Keymaster

                        While in the other Eightic Dimension, Lilac —catching a new weebit of inspiration— suddenly went off for a good old clue-hunt and some air-fishing of these whoohoo sparkling flying goldfishes (her morning cup of herbal coffree smelt like concrete today) — meanwhile, in the Peasland Dimension, the aliens had indeed departed. Not without leaving behind a sweet smell of peer compote that nobody knew for sure whether or not it should be considered slightly ominous.
                        As it should, the Saucerers who had been consulted on that matter had nothing better to do but further enhance the confusion. They all started to dread the arrival of a new species… Strawberries aliens.

                        #2489
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          The Strawberry Aliens entered via the portal near the effigy in Bristol Cathedral. Although they were invisible to the unshifted eye, and their actual entrance had gone entirely unnoticed, Lilac knew they had arrived, and wept.

                          The world had gone mad overnight.

                          #2490

                          Where the bloody hell IS everybody? exclaimed Lavender. Where’s Lilac? LILAC!

                          #2491

                          I haven’t heard a word from Lavender for the longest time, Lilac was wondering, When was the last time? Lavender, where ARE you?

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