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  • #4067
    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      “Turmeric,” said Finnley succinctly, with a meaningful nod in the direction of the kitchen. “Your creaking is doing my head in.”

      #4009
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        As Prune spoke the magic words releasing her aunt from marbledom, an unforeseen chain reaction of uncrusting began. One by one the concrete statues and animals that Idle had been collecting became more yielding, less rigid. They didn’t all start gallivanting around at once, it was a slow process depending on the length of time they had been solid.

        The buddha by the fish pond had had his knees bent for so long it would be some time before he could straighten them, but it was with great joy that he raised a hand from his lap to scratch the fly droppings off the tip of his nose. He was just about to make a remark about foolish idle people and wise diligent ones when it occurred to him that he’d been completely idle for quite some time, and that it hadn’t been his fault. The unaccustomed questioning of his rather rigid beliefs accelerated the uncrusting process, and he was able to turn his head to see the odd looking cat approaching, but unable to move his arm quickly enough to stop it spraying him with piss.

        You have no idea how long I’ve been holding that, said the cat, somewhat telepathically.

        A loud gravelly sounding laugh echoed across the pond, coming from the direction of the green man plaque on the wall. The unfamiliar cackle drew Clove out from the kitchen to see who it was.

        “I have so much to say!” the green man cleared his throat, spitting out some moss that had become stuck between his teeth, “And I’ve waited so long to say it! You there, you! Don’t go away!” The green man immediately realized his predicament. He had a face but no body. He would have to wait until an audience came to him to listen.

        But Clove was interested and inched closer. She had just been researching Dionysus for a project; what a fortuitous coincidence that a replica of him had come to life. She would be able to interview him for her report. She’d just read that “It is perhaps an indication of the Green Man’s power as an archetype that he was able to transfer so seamlessly from one culture and one set of beliefs to another.”

        This was exactly the angle she was after.

        #3996
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          The following is an e-mail from the past, composed on July 01, 2010. It is being delivered from the past through FutureMe.org

          Dear FutureMe,
          The Absinthe Cafe
          Dawn and Mark had a bottle of Absinthe (the proper stuff with the WORMwood in
          it, which is illegal in France) but forgot to bring it. Wandering around at
          some point, we chanced upon a cafe called Absinthe. Sitting on the terrace, the
          waitress came up and looked right at me and said “Oh you are booked to come here
          tomorrow night!” and then said “Forget I said that”. Naturally that got our
          attention. After we left Dawn spotted a kid with 2016 on the back of his T
          shirt. We asked Arkandin about it and we have a concurrent group focus that does
          meet in that cafe in 2016, including Britta. Dawn’s name is Isabelle Spencer,
          Jib’s is Jennifer….
          The Worm & The Suitcase
          I borrowed Rachel’s big red suitcase for the trip and stuck a Time Bridgers
          sticker on it, and joked before I left about the case disappearing to 2163. I
          had an impulse to take a fig tree sapling for Eric and Jib, which did survive
          the trip although it looked a little shocked at first. As Eric was repotting
          it, we noticed a worm in the soil, and I said, Well, if the fig tree dies at
          least you have the worm.
          At Balzacs house on a bench in the garden there was a magazine lying there open
          to an ad for Spain, which said “If you lose your suitcase it would be the best
          thing because you would have to stay”.
          Later we asked Arkandin and he said that there was something from the future
          inserted into my suitcase. I went all through it wondering what it could be,
          and then a couple of days ago Eric said that it was the WORM! because of the
          WORMwood absinthe syncs, and worm hole etc. I just had a chat with Franci who
          had a big worm sync a couple of days ago, she particularly noticed a very big
          worm outside the second hand shop, and noted that she hadn’t seen a worm in ages
          ~ which is also a sync, because there was a big second hand clothes shop next to
          Dawn and Mark’s hotel that I went into looking for a bowler hat.
          Arkandin said, by the way, that Jane did forget to mention the bowler hats in
          OS7, those two guys on the balcony were indeed wearing bowler hats, and that
          they were the same guys that were in my bedroom in the dream I had prior to
          finding the Seth stuff ~ Elias and Patel.
          Eric replied:

          And another Time Bridger thing; a while ago, Jib and I had fun planting some TB stickers at random places in Paris (and some on a wooden gate at Jib’s hometown).
          Those in Paris I remember were one at the waiting room of a big tech department store, and another on the huge “Bateaux Mouches” sign on the Pont de l’Alma (bridge, the one of Lady D. where there is a gilded replica of Lady Liberty’s flame).
          I think there are pics of that on Jib’s or my flickr account somewhere.
          When we were walking past this spot, Jib suddenly remembered the TB sticker — meanwhile, the sign which was quite clean before had been written all over, and had other stickers everywhere. We wondered whether it was still here, and there it was! It’s been something like 2 years… Kind of amazing to think it’s still there, and imagine all the people that may have seen it since!
          ~~~~

          The Flights

          I wasn’t all that keen on flying and procrastinated for ages about the trip. I
          flew with EASYjet, so it was nice to see the word EASY everywhere. I got on the
          plane to find that they don’t allocate seats, and chose a seat right at the
          front on the left. The head flight attendant was extremely playful for the
          whole flight, constantly cracking up laughing and teasing the other flight
          attendants, who would poke him and make him laugh during announcements so that
          he kept having to put the phone down while he laughed. I spent the whole flight
          laughing and catching his mischeivously twinking eye.
          I asked Arkandin about him and he said his energy was superimposed. I got on
          the flight to come home and was met on the plane by the same guy! I said
          HELLO! It’s YOU again! Can I sit in the same seat and are you going to make me
          laugh again” and he actually moved the person that was in my seat and said I
          could sit there. Then he asked me about my book (about magic and Napolean). He
          also said that all his flights all week had been delayed except the two that I
          was on. He wanted to give me a card for frequent flyers but I told him I
          usually flew without planes ~ that cracked him up ;))
          ~~~

          The Dream Bean

          Eric cracked open a special big African bean that is supposed to enhance
          dreams/lucidity so we all had a bit of it. The second night I remembered a
          dream and it was a wonderful one.
          (Coincidentally, on the flight home I read a few pages of my book and it just
          happened to be about the council of five dragons and misuse of magical beans)
          In the dream I had a companion with magical powers, who I presumed was Jib but
          it was myself actually. It was a long adventure dream of being chased and
          various adventures across the countryside, but there was no stress, it was all
          great fun. Everytime things got a bit too close in the dream, I’d hold onto my
          friend with magical powers, and we would elevate above the “adventure” and drop
          down in another location out of immediate danger ~ although we were never
          outside of the adventure, so to speak. At one point I wondered why my magical
          freind didn’t just elevate us right up high and out of it completely, and
          realized that we were in the adventure game on purpose for the fun of it, so why
          would we remove ourselves completely from the adventure game.
          In the dream I remember we were heading for Holland at one point, and then the
          last part we were safely heading for Turkey…..
          The other dream snapshot was “we are all working together on roof tiles” and
          Arkandin had some interesting stuff to say about that one.
          ~~~

          There were alot of vampire imagery incidents starting with me asking Eric if he
          slept in his garden tool box at night, and then the guy who shot out of a door
          right next to Jib and Eric’s, in a bright orange T shirt, carrying a cardboard
          coffin. He stopped for me to take a photo (and Arkandin said it was a Patel pop
          in); then while walking through the outdoor food market someone was chopping a
          crate up and a perfect wooden stake flew across the floor and landed at my feet.
          The next vampire sync was a shop opposite Dawn and Mark’s hotel with 3 coffins
          in the window (I went back to take a pic of the cello actually, didn’t even
          notice the coffins). Inside the shop was an EAU DE NIL MOTOR SCOOTER Share, can
          you beleive it, and a mummy, a stuffed raven, and a row of (Tardis) Red phone
          boxes.
          I had a nightmare last night that I couldn’t find any of my (nine) dogs; the
          only ones I could find were the dead ones.
          ~~~~

          Balzac’s House

          The trip to Balzac’s house was interesting, although in somewhat unexpected
          ways. (Arkandin was Balzac and I was the cook/housekeeper) The house didn’t
          seem “right” somehow to Mark and I and we decided that was probably because
          other than the desk there was no furniture in it. Mark saw a black cat that
          nobody else saw that was an Arkandin pop in (panther essence animal), and Dawn
          felt that he was sitting on a chair, and Mark sat on him. (Arkandin said yes he
          did sit on him ;) The kitchen was being used as an office. Jib felt the house
          was too small, and picked up on a focus of his that rented the other part of the
          house. (The house was one storey high on the side we entered, and two storeys
          high from the road below). There were two pop ins there apparently, one with
          long hair which is a connection to my friend Joy who was part of that group
          focus, and I can’t recall anything about the other one. Dawn was picking up
          that Balzac wasn’t too happy, and I was remembering the part in Cousin Bette
          that infuriated me when I read it, where he goes on and on about how disgusting
          it is for servants to expect their wages when their “betters” are in dire
          straits. Arkandin confirmed that I didn’t get my wages.
          The garden was enchanting and had a couple of sphinx statues and a dead pigeon ~
          as well as the magazine with the suitcase and Spain imagery. Mark signed the
          guest book “brought the cook back” and I replied “no cooking smells this time”.

          #3994

          In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

          TracyTracy
          Participant

            limbo sense
            late kitchen past turned latest sounded thread
            brought away master report:
            everyone pool ascension discussion
            cloud opened

            #3949

            Aunt Idle was craving for sweets again. She tip toed in the kitchen, she didn’t want to hear another lecture from Mater. It only took time from her indulging in her attachments. Her new yogiguru Togurt had told the flockus group that they had to indulge more. And she was determined to do so.
            The kitchen was empty. A draft of cold air brushed her neck, or was it her neck brushing against the tiny molecules of R. She cackled inwardly, which almost made her choke on her breath. That was surely a strange experience, choking on something without substance. A first for her, if you know what I mean.

            The shelves were closed with simple locks. She snorted. Mater would need more than that to put a stop to Idle’s cravings. She had watched a video on Wootube recently about how to unlock a lock. She would need pins. She rummaged through her dreadlocks, she was sure she had forgotten one or two in there when she began to forge the dreads. Very practicle for smuggling things.

            It took her longer than she had thought, only increasing her craving for sweets.
            There was only one jar. Certainly honey. Idle took the jar and turned it to see the sticker. It was written Termite Honey, Becky’s Farm in Mater’s ornate writing. Idle opened the jar. Essence of sweetness reached her nose and made her drool. She plunged her fingers into the white thick substance.

            #3922
            Jib
            Participant

              A yellow monkey jumped from the top of the fridge onto Dido’s hair. She screamed like a beaver and dropped the ice cream jar she was devouring voraciously. Mater, who just happened to enter the kitchen at that very moment, rolled her eyes. When it was not curry cookies, it was icecream. If she continued to eat like that, Dido would soon puff up like a hot-hair balloon.

              #3869

              Sam woke up the next morning feeling puzzled. There was no apparent reason for it, so he thought it might be related to the new moon or to some singular configuration of space time crossing with the known universe. He scratched his 3 days and a half beard a few times. He liked the sound of it and did it frequently. Only then would he get out of bed and prepare some breakfast.
              When he came to the kitchen, the tv was on. A certain Godfrey was speaking about an upcoming wave of migrants due to lack of rafts in the sea of confusion. Sam thought he wasn’t the only one feeling puzzled.
              “Do you have all your papers ready ?” asked Al, already dressed up as if he was going to a wedding.
              “I like when you wear your tuxedo”, said Sam. Al looked absolutely delicious. “And yes, I have all my papers ready. But I wonder… Why do you need papers when you’re asking for a new identity?”

              #3834
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                Twas the morning before the new year celebrations and all through the house, the creatures were stirring, with the noteworthy exception of the rodents.
                Bea congratulated herself on her successful manoeuvres in the kitchen to disorient and discourage the rats, unaware that they had gone on vacation anyway, and planned to return after the holidays.

                #3833
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Penelope and Patty Ratty had packed their bags, procuring the necessary items from Bea’s cluttered house. Candles (it was always so dark behind fridges), bar of soap (some of these human houses were not all that clean, a self respecting rat felt quite filthy after a midnight stroll around some kitchens and needed a good wash afterwards), mince pies, used teabags to use as in flight pillows, and an unexpected prize of a half an antibiotic tablet, thoughtfully left out in a convenient position. Patty often got an upset stomach when travelling in human spaces, and was inordinately pleased to find the pill.

                  #3820
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    “Oh Patty, you naughty ratty!” exclaimed Bea, as she trundled into the kitchen to make her morning coffee. “I left you your marie biscuit on top of the microwave as usual and you haven’t even touched it. But look at my banana!”

                    The banana had been dragged from atop the bowl with the oranges, across the kitchen counter to nestle between the greasy gas cooking rings, the skin neatly opened in a perfect square cut.

                    “I was going to have that banana on my toast this morning,” Bea grumbled crossly. “You are overstepping the line now, Patty Ratty.”

                    “But Bea,” replied Patty, “I’m a new age ratty, a healthy ratty and a global warming conscious vegan ratty, and I do prefer a nice banana to a lousy factory made cheap biscuit, don’t you know.”

                    At least, that is what Bea imagined the rat might say, if it could speak. Everyone knows rats don’t speak. And notwithstanding, the rat had retired for the day and wasn’t in the kitchen anyway.

                    “I’m a raw food vegan gluten free health food rat!” shouted Patty from under the wood pile just outside the kitchen door. “You’re trying to kill me with that crap food!”

                    Momentarily speechless at the audacity of the uninvited guest, Bea struggled quietly with her roles and responsibility beliefs. Should I serve the food the uninvited guest prefers? Or should the gatecrashing rat be grateful for the food it was given?

                    #3805

                    In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions

                    Whenever Nabuco projected to human consciousness, they had the habit of seeing him as a plump looking bearded vagrant, like a Pavarotti turned homeless. It had annoyed him for a while, but now he didn’t mind as much.

                    Nowadays, he was mostly off the bliss addiction of the Rays, so in a sense, it was fitting. If he were still in physical human form, he would probably have taken on quite some weight. And that made him a sort of pariah too, splintering off the great order of ascension, or whatever They called it nowadays.

                    With them, there was no denying he’d lived quite the grand life, being ascended and all. They used to called him Master Nebuchadnezzar — well, often Master Nabuco.
                    He’d gotten on the rayroll almost by luck. He was credited for inventing the chibubble technique, as a way of extracting bubbles and peals of laughter when people get all hot and excited. At the peak of the technique, somewhere around the 1968s, he had recruited and incorporated many gnomes into the fold, as nature spirits known as gnomes had a uncanny knack for extracting laughter off people. With the call for sexual liberation and getting closer to nature, they had plenty of opportunities to get people high, and chibubbles were all the fancy.
                    It had started to go down as fast as it rose, people were no longer interested in nature, gnomes working condition when forced to move to urban environments were a disaster, and the chibubble production plummeted. Now, the industry was a thing of the past ; sometimes there were a few chibubble memorabilia kept by other Masters interested in speculating on its rare value more than for anything else. Now kitten videos on social media had replaced the chibubble gnomes business and driven a new unseen growth of the Gross Divine Product.

                    He didn’t know if the gnomes were responsible for it, but living so close to them and nature for a while, somehow opened his perception to the falsity and the insanity of their quest for power. So instead of finding new venues for innergy extraction as they all did, he’d resigned.
                    Nobody had heard about anybody resigning before, so they suspected him of trying to be original, and maybe disrupt the clever and immutable laws of the universe.
                    Long story short, he’d managed to escape their clutches, and live on his own, and off unhealthy junk thoughts habits. Those were the worse, the craving of decadent thoughts, maintained by the entertainment and news industries, the social media and all of it. In the long run, that or the fuzzy bliss were faces of the same coin, and debilitating in the end.

                    Even when he tried to block them, he could hear the thoughts, prayers and all the inner chatter. The spirit world, or however it is called, was a medium ideal to carry those thoughts and reverberate throughout the whole universe. Like sound waves travelling under water for large distances. Now, he could resist the urge to answer, seduce and insinuate. Many of the thoughts were so naive and would welcome anything. He was still a junkie, and those offerings were never helping getting him off the wagon.

                    Humans hoped for ascension, but ascended masters like him who were trapped in a false blissdom could only hope to resume their path by descending to human form. Such irony.

                    There was one voice that seemed to stand out. It had the flavour of “dangerous” pinned onto it, the kind of bright colours that venomous snakes and toads have on earth to warn predators to keep off, or else. It could only mean one thing, a genuine seeker of truth, someone who had the potential to tear the veils to shreds.

                    He’d seen quite a few of those, they were usually young, and for many of them terribly naive and easily corrupted by displays of power. Search for truth and search for power were sometimes so easily mistaken one for the other. The bright colours would fade over time, but they were still dangerous, too unpredictable to be trusted fully. Learned Ascended Masters knew well to leave those to their own device, while tending to the less critical minds.

                    But what did he have to waste, especially now? Nabuco zoomed towards the origin of the thoughts, observing at a distance, the young Domba.

                    #3789

                    In reply to: The Hosts of Mars

                    ÉricÉric
                    Keymaster

                      When Eb woke up, there was a dozen messages left on his phone.
                      He didn’t have to check to know.
                      His mother wasn’t too subtle when he missed their weekly call.

                      She now lived in a modest retiring home in Mississippi, spending most of her time on social networks exchanging links about anything from politics and revolution and anarchy, kittens and drugs. Oh, that, and politics too. And revolution.
                      She was suffering from early stages of Alzheimer, but called it “transition” as the old-age hype advertised some decades earlier, and due to her refusal to take her prescriptions, it wasn’t improving much as time went by. But Eb’s prognosis was more like “selective Alzheimer”, as she would perfectly recall when (and how many times) he had missed their weekly calls.

                      He could already hear her complain about how she was left out of the loop, that the world story would be over by the time she catches up with all the gossips they’d hidden from her. Often, she would become so agitated that Fancy, her nurse would come help her relax and stop waking up the others. Everything was much less confusing thanks to Fancy.

                      After all that is said, he loved his mother deeply. She was always full of extravagant ideas and when she stopped doubting herself, she had her moments of sheer brilliance.

                      Being his only son, that she’d taken care of as a single mother most of her life, he felt tremendous pressure to be worthy of her sacrifices. So talking about his job wasn’t really something he liked to explore with her. If she’d known what he did for a living,… he couldn’t bear to imagine the look of crushed hopes and expectations on her devastated face. Well, suffice to say her face needn’t any of it.
                      Instead, he’d told her he was working in a tree nursery, working on pest control, with humane and eco-conscious methods. Which actually wasn’t too far off the truth. The pests were the glitches of the program, and the vegetables… well, that didn’t need much explaining.

                      “Tricia speaking, who’s this?” Eb knew she knew perfectly well it was him, but the game was ever the same
                      “Mother, it’s Eb”
                      “Ebenezer, my dear boy, how kind of you to remember your old mother. What have you been up to? So many things happened here, with that new batch of decrepit old farts who arrived last month, so much drama. But you should tell me about you. Oh, makes me recall that stupid incident, a synch! I should tell Fancy about it! Fancy, Fancy!
                      Oh dear… She’s gone cleaning up again. The last one who came in is a Chinese, and all his family is there, I bet she’s cooking some rice now, it smells funny. Fancy! Mind the rice! So well, it’s like the twins I talk with on the Internet, with funny names, Cilantro and Nutmeg, something like that, well, they have so many funny stories, like that meteor that dropped on Mars and blacked-out the TV show, they think it’s all bollocks. I told them I’d ask you about this, after all you did some studies in physics before becoming a gardener, you’ve always been the clever one in the lot, always helping with the dust stuck in my keyboard, and other IT problems. Oh dear… that was fun, but I think I must go, Fancy is waving at me, she says hello by the way! Oh, she rolls your eyes at you, how cute! Time for my siesta, … what? Oh, and change my nappies too, thanks Fancy, you’re precious, I keep forgetting everything. Talk to you soon my boy!”

                      Well… If he hadn’t been so hungover, he probably would have tried to place some funny comments, or at least a well-meaning “hmmm hmmm”, to let her know he wasn’t just letting her monologue. Today was a good day notwithstanding, she hardly had a complaint. He should remember to send Fancy a card and a nice honey pot like he did every year, she was doing wonders at pacifying his mother.

                      #3708
                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

                        ”I had a funny dream last night”, said Mater when she eventually found Dido clearing up in the kitchen. Or more accurately perhaps, ’supervising’ as it was clearly Finnly doing the bulk of the work.

                        ”It was very peaceful. A man and a little boy were fishing in a stream. “Fishing is what a true man does,” said the man to the boy. At that moment there was a tug on the line and the little boy pulled a huge trout out of the water. Enormous it was,” gesticulated Mater, flinging her arms wide to demonstrate. “The trout fought hard and got away, but not before … what on earth is the matter with you, Dido?”

                        “A trout,” murmered Dido looking strangely at Mater.

                        #3554
                        matermater
                        Participant

                          “Good Lord, what’s all the fuss?” I asked, walking into the kitchen. “You all look like you have seen a ghost.”

                          Exhausted by my busy day, I had come home and gone straight to bed. I had slept through dinner and had come downstairs thinking to fix myself a wee snack and a cup of hot chocolate.

                          And walked crash bang into some sort of a drama going on.

                          Another one!

                          #3550
                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            Corrie:

                            Funny how things pop up. While Clove was taking supper to the guy in room 8, I signed into Spacenook and the first thing on my perusefeed was an article about maps.

                            “Cartographies can be altered endlessly to reflect different priorities, hierarchies, experiences, points of view, and destinations.”

                            How syncy is that. There was another sync like that yesterday, after the kitten fell off the barn roof. I was just posting a photo of the kitten on Spacenook and glanced at the sidebar and there was an ad for a catnip garden memories of dead cats group thing there. I wonder if that dream I had of our old dog Lilly the other day was because the kitten was a remanifestation of her? Lilly’s name was supposed to be Delilah, that’s what it said on her papers, Delilah, but nobody ever called her that. We always called her Lilly.

                            Anyway, they come and they go, we’ve had hundreds of cats wander through this town, but they always come back. I saw a rat the other day and it reminded me of Boozer, the old sheepdog we had when we were little.

                            Funny thing was, yesterday morning I’d posted this poem by Mary Oliver:

                            “…. Tell me, what else should I have done?
                            Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
                            Tell me, what is it you plan to do
                            With your one wild and precious life?”

                            Made me feel a bit better when I read it again later, because I did wonder if I’d got there quicker when I heard it crying, when it must have been halfway done falling and stuck on a branch, it might not have ended up the way it did. It must have been meant to be that way I suppose. Well, she’ll be back. They always come back sooner or later.

                            Sighing, I refocused on the article.

                            “Maps produce new realities much as they seek to document current ones. Maps are always a going-beyond the space-time of the present.”

                            No mention of a room full of map covered mannequins in the Brundy place though.

                            #3527
                            TracyTracy
                            Participant

                              “Just wait a minute for Mater to join us, kids. The dinner will wait a bit longer,” Aunt Idle said, while scraping the bottom of the pan, filling the kitchen with the smell of blackened burnt stew.
                              “But she’s late again, and we’re hungry now!” I said, and Clove chipped in “It’s fucking almost ruined now anyway.”
                              “Hey! less of that rude language, Clove,” Aunt Idle said, so I asked her why a word is ruder than being late. “Yeah, and why is barging in to her room ruder than being late?” my sister added. “Why haven’t you taught the old bag some manners, Aunt Idle?”
                              “Clove, really!”
                              “What old bag?” asked Mater, crashing open the door with her stick.
                              “You” replied Prune, “They’re calling you a rude old bag. OUCH! Clove just kicked me!”
                              “Aunt Idle, Mater didn’t say sorry for being late, isn’t that rude?”
                              “Only when you do it, now shut up and eat.”

                              #3466

                              “Dear Kitty, you didn’t think I would miss your birthday for all the world.” Anna Purrna handed out with a sappy smile an awful cupcake topped with a green butter cream that looked like come out of a toothpaste tube days ago. “Happy birthday Terry.”

                              She sent an icy glare at the others who took it as a cue to singing “Happy Birthday” in falsetto voices.

                              “Good. Now, back to business, chop chop.”

                              As soon as she was out of sight, they all looked with commiseration at Terry. Maurana even ventured a whisper “That was humiliating.” Consuela whispered too “Told you, you shouldn’t have accepted the bitch’s friend invitation on Flushbuck. Had to be a trap… Although saying no, would have meant… well, yes too, but no… Well, you get my meaning.”

                              The other looked at her with blank stares, stopped in their mopping. They promptly resumed making washing noises to avoid drawing back the attention of the dwarf queen.

                              “Girls.” Maurana said “Got nothing to do with being black and all, but I got to tell you this. Ain’t gonna be this bitch that’ll bring back slavery upon us AND child labor to top it. Trust Maurana on that. We got to wake up and strike back. That horrid cupcake was a declaration of war. We need a plan.”
                              “Agreed.” the traumatized Terry spoke her first words since the last minutes. “I think we may have to call Sadie for help, she was always the one with those ezapper plans, no?”
                              “I had some trenches and attrition warfare in mind, more like, but this plan is good as any, no?” acquiesced Consuela. “Let me make that call, I kept her emergency number next to mum’s”.

                              #3427
                              Jib
                              Participant

                                After the push-ups, Anna Purrna returned to her office, letting the Queens panting and sweating, certainly wondering how long it would last.

                                The dwarf had requisitioned the best room and decorated it with pink and blue kitten plates on the wall left of his desk. The desk was positioned so that he would see anyone entering the room. It was something he had learned from Feng Shui, the position of power was when you faced the door and had no window behind. It was important no one could sneak up on you.

                                Anna Purrna loved pink and blue, and she loved kittens. They were loving you unconditionally and were not as dependent upon you as dogs. And they pooped in their own personal toilets. She put her cane near a decorated hammer and sat at her desk. She sighed.

                                Dependence was exhausting. She had fought all her life not to be dependent, especially when she realized that, contrary to the other kids, she couldn’t say when I grow up. She would never grow up, and those arrogant kids in the playground would make sure she knew it morally and physically. She wasn’t all that crooked before.
                                Now, she was driving a Harley.

                                She took her e-zapper and wrote : “ZR nut reddy 2 face O’Thor ET yeast”.

                                Writing in code was a habit she had taken when participating in RPGs. She knew it was an attempt to conceal her own expression. But it felt soothing at the time. It also helped her get better characters than dwarves and goblins. They wouldn’t even let her have an orc, saying she was too small for that. With time and perseverance she became an Adept with great powers and cunning intelligence. She was respected and feared. Which led her to work for the Management.

                                Her instructions were clear. Make them stand for themselves. At least that’s how she interpreted it. She had carte blanche for the means.

                                From what she had seen until now, Terry was the most promising of the three, but he was still following his mates. Maurana was too attached to the rules and seemliness, and Consuela was far too dependent on her mother. Anna could just provide the environment, they had to find their inner strength on their own and not forget the group.

                                The e-zapper purred, she had reconfigured it so that it would have a cat personality. It reminded her of her Riga, her previous ginger cat. She died a few years ago and Anna couldn’t resolve herself to get another one. She couldn’t replace her Riga in her heart.

                                The message read : “Begin phase two ASAP. Meow”.

                                #3415
                                Jib
                                Participant

                                  Consuela has been sneaking out, hoping nobody would notice. And by nobody, she meant that fat short drag of a tyrant. Since the arrival of the dwarf queen, their life has been like hell. She’ve made them scrub the floor several times a day, butt tight and high; she’ve made them move the furniture around, and put it back into place. And with all that they also had to keep on with their usual duties, the fat dancers, the bar and St Germain’s show.

                                  “Kittie, kittie, kittie” The voice of the dwarf seemed ominous.
                                  Oh! Shit, thought Cedric, I didn’t even have time to call mum. He tried to hide behind the bins but it was too late.
                                  “Ah! Little kittie, I found you.” The voice was sweet as a Grannie’s voice, but the face could compete in the category of the evil clowns.

                                  #3370

                                  She was stroking the black cat who was complained loudly at the unwanted massage, when the messenger arrived at her door.

                                  “The King’s Chamberlain would like a word… in private” was all the footman had said.

                                  “Doesn’t look a slight bit suspicious to you?” the cat told her, shaking and licking the human scent off its fur.
                                  “Of course it does, don’t come if you don’t want to.” She replied smugly, wrapping her cloak around her despite the sizzling sun and the humidity.

                                  She followed the messenger, wondering what required such discretion.

                                  “A weighty matter indeed,” Downson said to her when she arrived at the rendezvous point under a vaulted passageway at a point where the sounds were cancelled out and voices could share deepest secrets in all discretion. “The P’hope has spies in many places… And at least I know of him, so he is not even the most dangerous one, I fear…”

                                  She was not of many words. Seeing that, the Chamberlain’s continued.
                                  “There are forces at play that conspire against the King’s rule.”
                                  She couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.
                                  “I know what you think, people should be self-governed, but you can see it another way, people’s leaders are also the expression of their beliefs. But never mind the philosophy… You are uniquely talented for a rescue mission.”
                                  “What do you mean?”
                                  “You know have powerful allies… tools,… and dragons too, if the tales are true…”
                                  She tittered softly. The tales were true, all of it except about the dragons being powerful allies for some rescue quest. Dragons were lazy dreamers, or at least the ones she used to know. She replied with magnanimity “Let’s assume I’m the person you need for this mission… What is my compensation for it… And don’t serve me platitudes about the travel being all that matters. That grumpy cat needs to eat.”
                                  The cat suddenly turned his eyes into the cutest kitty eyes he could do. It would have melted the heart of the most stone-hearted villain in an instant.
                                  Well played, Mandrake she winked at the cat telepathically.

                                  “Well, word has it that you are on a quest to astral, and maybe I could help with that.”
                                  “Continue…”
                                  “I could arrange an interview with the Fisher Count. As an entrusted Guardian of the Saint Amber Graastral Stone Cup, he could grant you a drink from it.”
                                  “Tell me more about whomever I’m supposed to rescue?”

                                  At the sound of footsteps, he stopped, and pushed her towards a column out of sight.

                                  “Oh, it’s only a cat” the soldier said, continuing his round unaware of the two.

                                  As soon as the other had left, Downson resumed his talk in hurried tone and quicker sentences.
                                  “I have good reasons to believe a young girl with great desire to prove herself was sent many years ago to the Fog Abyss as a rite of passage, but she was tricked and left for dead there. The magi who were supposed to protect her only said they had lost her. But something else happened. Last night, one of them came to me full of guilt. He was visited in a dream by an apparition of the young girl and her guardian angel. Something horrible had happened, but she told him she forgave him and that she was alive and well. You need to bring her back to us, and be discrete about it. Somebody wanted her dead and buried, and will stop at nothing to complete the task if they find out she’s alive.”

                                  Before the Chamberlain left, he turned back and told her:
                                  “Better be quick to leave, I shall have all that you require prepared for you. And a word of advise… you can trust no one, Arona.”

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