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  • “Bugger!” bemoaned Fwick. “Blah! The butter is bitter. The butter I bought to go in the batter with the vegemyth. The butter is bitter, but now it’s blended in my batter and my blimmin batter is bitter.” The little spider giggled gleefully to himself. ... · ID #2409 (continued)
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  • #2984
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Chico would have been biting his nails if he had any nails (and if she hadn’t detached his hands completely and left them on the coffee table). The preparation for insertion had begun, and the camoflage reskin was progressing slowly. Already Chico was beginning to feel boxed in, and might have made a dash for it if he could have reached his legs but she had stacked them up on a dining chair, with his arms. There wasn’t much he could do except glare at her ~ that is, until she pasted over his eyes. The camoflage on his torso and skull felt stifling, heavy. Plastered with labels and routes, networks, directions and boundaries, stoic and heroic, he allowed himself to be suited in limitations.

      #2980
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Mari Fe managed to find the earplugs, and gave them to Katarina. “Shove these in her ears will you, I need to calm down and catch my breath.” By this time Pearl was catatonic with Meloncholy, and Katarina had no trouble inserting the earplugs.

        Mari Fe pulled a carpet off the pile, threw it down onto the shop doorway step, and flopped down. She automatically pulled her ephone out of her pocket, and without thinking found herself checking in to FBF2. “She’s done it again!” she exclamined, jumping up. “ Tanit! She deactivated her FBF2 account 2 days ago ~ at exactly the same time as Elza reactivated her surge team location chip and took the Moscow case.”

        “Is that relevant?” asked Katarina, who was gently slapping Pearls cheeks, trying to revive her from the effects of the hypnotic melancholy choir.

        But Mari Fe didn’t reply. She was following the other two ladies, who had disappeared into the back room.

        #2979

        “Oh no, not Korea yet, it’s minus 18 degrees there!” Yann was busy throwing darts on the world map patafixed to the blank wall after a fashion.
        He’d spend the last hour trying to find a suitable and close enough destination to fly so as to activate his last one-month coupon-visa due to expire at the end of the month. But most of the attempts seemed to follow an unknown logic he wasn’t ready to go along with.
        “It’s starting to snow again in Paris, and it’s too far. Taipei or Kyoto don’t look much better than here…”
        He marked a pause, and breathing slowly, emptied his mind, following the tradition of the Güt lineage of Libetan alpacas. Then the solution to his predicament appeared to him as clear as broad daylight.
        “Alright then, Long Poon it is again the safest choice. And I could be back the 23rd, isn’t it great? Let’s just hope the booking will go easier than last time !”

        #2972

        “I still don’t know what we’re doing here, Glo. Azerbaijan in the middle of bloody winter?”

        “The nightlife, Sharon, the nightlife!”

        “So what do we do during the day, then? Besides freeze our ample tits off?”

        “Let’s have a cuppa somewhere and decide. I saw some lovely pastries in that cafe over there, come on.”

        ~~~

        Sharon licked the crumbs from her fingers and leaned over the table, whispering to Gloria. “Can’t help but eavesdrop, did you hear what those two on the table behind me just said? Something about buying carpets. I could do with a new rug for the bathroom, shall we follow them? They seem to know their way around here.”

        “I dunno, Shar, they look a bit tipsy to me. Look at all those empty Guinness cans.”

        #2968
        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Madam Li contemplated the pill-like translucent object glowing bright red which could barely fit in the palm of her delicate hand.
          People usually said that you could try and hide your age as well as possible on your face, but that hands didn’t lie. Hers actually were still a young woman’s fine delicate and smooth work-of-art.
          The snow had stopped immediately, leaving the weather in the Pudding area as it used to be: a pale mist of polluted fog, thus returning Shanghai to its normal weather patterns. The rote was there in her hand, full of the last surge’s energy, a tempting promise of uncontrollable power, but she had seen far too much power struggle and horrors to be really tempted by it.

          Ed’s demise had taken her by surprise. Although she did look young, it was her heart who really betrayed her. She hated people leaving her, and she would have expected Ed to survive her own death. It was the first time she was considering ever so briefly the thought of retiring. Of course, she still would need to find a replacement at her post, but China was full of eager potentials, that wouldn’t take too long.
          Putting the rote in the diplomatic case, her gaze trailed on the invitation, still on the table. She wasn’t ashamed to admit her first thought went to the cleaning lady who had been careful to dust all around it, without moving it an inch off the glass table top.
          Spain just came as an afterthought, already having lost its appeal as soon as summoned.

          Wrapping herself in her white fur coat, she called for a taxi. She would be just in time for the ice festival in Harbin with a warm dog legs’ soup and some yak butter tea.

          #2963
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            “Looks like Ed Steams’ own impetus was his downfall Janet said solemnly after she covered the mustacheless body with a white bedsheet.
            “Damn right you are, Janet.” Riff Raff nodded. “I wouldn’t have recognized him without his mustache though…”
            “I think it’s safe to say that Pearl and Mari Fe’s plan was nearly a fiasco, but in the end, he took the surge full blast. Not quite the end we had in mind for him, but what’s done is done.”

            The zombies hadn’t been difficult to subjugate however, and although Riff Raff nearly had his brain eaten out, there had been no spread or civilian loss to deplore. That much was good, Janet didn’t like the whole body moving business one bit. The Moreguest Facility was such a drab place, at least she could go straight back to her post in beautiful sunny West Coast.

            On the table, an egg-shaped translucent gem was beaming bright green. Janet took it thoughtfully, carefully placing it in the diplomatic case. “Strange that Ed died from the surge while the others recovered once the zombie energy had been sealed into the rote.”
            Riff Raff was more pragmatic. Or maybe eager to get back home too. “He was a man consumed by his quest for artifacts, let’s not dwell on things past.”

            Using the portal from the bathroom once she decontaminated and recalibrated it, she’d sent everyone, their clothes doused in moonshine to some dark alleys in Granada, where they would probably be picked by local officers alerted by the usual racket made by the transspace portal, with no memory at all and alcohol breath. At least the nosy auditor would be in for a trip.

            “Hey Riff, give my regards to Midgenta” Janet bear-hugged her friend, throwing the diplomatic suitcase with the pocket-sized forklift into the glove box of the red car, and disappearing in a trail of fine caliche billowing behind the vehicle wheels.

            #2959
            Jib
            Participant

              Humans were not the only one worried by all the surges or strange events happening on Earth, or under Earth. I’m not talking about Lemurians or Atlanteans having taken refuge in the center core of the planet or anywhere else. I’m talking about a people counting more individuals than humanity could ever add up.

              Ant 23532353577321 of the colony under the hill didn’t have a name. But it had been chosen for a very important purpose by the Queen. At first it wondered why it was so that such a small ant among the countless other ants would be chosen. Its little brain even began to wonder about chance and probability, but in the end when the Queen summoned it, she told Ant 23532353577321 that something happened when she expelled the 23532353577321st egg. An impulse of the Queen that she herself didn’t quite understand. And the Queen was quite intelligent because she could use the countless minds of her ants to think and to analyze and to evaluate. But an impulse, she couldn’t understand because everything she ever did was calculated and carefully thought.

              Anyway, that impulse led to a change in her hormonal system at the very moment that she designed the egg. It was not a worker egg, neither was it a soldier egg, nor a prince or a princess. The Queen herself didn’t quite know what it was but she was sure Ant 23532353577321 was special and doted of unknown qualities. During the few ant years that had gone by since that moment, the Queen’s gigantic mindnetwork came to the logical conclusion that it could be a consequence of the surges. BUT, the smal spark of Ant 23532353577321’s mind, introduced the unexpected in the equation and the reflection, and the Queen wondered if Ant 23532353577321 came here for a purpose. Logically, another question followed : what purpose ?

              #2953
              Jib
              Participant

                Eventhough Stu was not very bright, he had always been successful with women. Thanks to his young and handsome body. He’s been working at the gas Station in Cottonwood since he was 15, he’d figured out at that time it was the best way to meet women. Some of them were even coming as far from Phoenix, and his boss was rather content about it too. He’d even encourage his employee to take off his shirt more often.

                Days were following days, and it was the same routine, washing cars, filling gas tanks, meeting women. Nothing particular had even happen in Cottonwood. Of course there were often weirdos as they were close to Sedona. Some of them were asking if he had seen any ETs lately, or some guys asked him once if he’d ever been probed by aliens.
                It was all part of the job, and he didn’t really pay attention. His best response was no response at all and play the dumb. Except with women. He would always find something to say to make them laugh and he especially loved to see those sparkles in their eyes, that’s when he knew he could ask them anything.

                #2952

                Quick witted Arona, realising their cover was blown, grabbed Mandrake and hid behind a hot pink leather chaise lounge in the corner of the room.

                “Mandrake, I think Yikesy might be going though another growth spurt,” said Arona, after a few moments spent reflecting thoughtfully on proceedings in the room. “Good thing I brought him that cute snuggle fit stretch’n‘grow set to wear for the mission.”

                Mandrake rolled his eyes. “He isn’t a baby, Arona and you really shouldn’t make him wear those ridiculous outfits. Although, I must say, in this instance, for the sake of decency, it is probably just as well. But for goodness sakes, the boy is just about old enough to grow a moustache.”

                “Oh well, I guess you are right. But he has such an endearingly ugly little baby face still, people often think he is younger than he is. I wonder if that strange woman in the red coat would take a photo if I asked her.”

                #2945
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  His razor blade in left hand (he was ambidextrous with a slight favour for the left side), Ed suddenly remembered his future struggle with the daft cumbersome vermillion man, so he quickly turned off the portal. Then, against all common sense and years of procedures, decided to put it into his pocket.
                  Everything following came back at once, interspersed with bits of smashed objects and blurs. But something he distinctly remembered was that Mari Fe was in the apartment, although he didn’t remember bringing her home from last night. It was against company policy to sleep with subordinates, so it had to mean something fishy.
                  Recalibrating the portal using the failsafe code, he directed it to the secret headquarters where he had started to stockpile dangerous artefacts collected from previous surge control operations, deciding it was the best course of action before assessing who was to be trusted or not in his Chicks team…

                  #2930
                  Jib
                  Participant

                    Janet heard a door squeak like an agonizing mouse. Her heart jumped in her chest when she recognized the half bald man who came through… and the implications. The old clock rang. Janet didn’t know Mari Fe had such an antique in her house. Maybe it was on the other side of that door.

                    Riff Raff… “, she said. Her throat was suddenly tight and she could barely swallow. “What are you doing here ?”

                    “It’s astounding, time is fleeting
                    Madness takes its toll
                    But listen closely, not for very much longer
                    You’ve got to keep control”

                    “Who’s that man,” asked Pearl, “he’s ugly. And why is he singing… and sweeping the old clock ?”
                    “I think we’re in a time wart, again”, said a crestfallen Janet.

                    #2924
                    Jib
                    Participant

                      Janet took a heavy stickman and smashed it on the worker’s head.

                      “Damn it! Janet! What have you done ?” Pearl was beginning to wonder about that hit and smash epidemy. Would she be the next to succumb ? She resisted a strong impulse to smash Janet’s head with what appeared to be a wooden hyppopotamus and took a deep breath.

                      “I don’t know”, Janet said with a little girl’s voice.
                      “Oh! Be serious for a moment and stop breathing your helium balloon for Roaster’s sake!”
                      Janet continued with the same voice, “At least we can throw them all through the portal now, can’t we ? Sorry, I won’t do that again…”

                      “Roaster! That man with the vermillion robes is so heavy”, complained Pearl.
                      “Maybe we can throw the portal at them and see what happens”, said Janet.

                      Pearl considered the idea for a few seconds, it was very tempting, but also so contrary to what they have been taught about portals, that it gave her chills. It could swallow the entire village, and the two Chicks in the same gulp.

                      “The story has just begun said Pearl, we can’t do that.”

                      #2907

                      Yann was proud of himself, he had answered his first phone call in Chinese.

                      When they first arrived at the hotel, it was a wonderful and colorful place, all those reds and warm yellows, with well chosen touches of blue and green. The morning light was illuminating the lobby in a soothing way, it seemed as if it was gently brushing the leather of the armchairs and sofas. He noticed an old cleaning lady carefully sweeping the tiles of the floor one by one.

                      “I love this place”, he had told Yurick. “It’s so peaceful, I feel energized.”

                      The big smile on his face stayed there even when he first realized noone in the hotel could speak English or French, or even Javanese. Yurick was speaking Chinese after all.
                      But Yurick was not always here. He had to go out for a meeting with a certain Lulla for work. And Yann desperately needed to call a taxi. So he plucked up courage and called the hotel management.

                      “Ni hao [incomprensible Chinese words] ?”
                      Did it really ended with a question mark ? Yann was not sure. “Ni hao”, he said. He was so concerned by the thought of his awful pronunciation that he missed what the person answered.
                      “I number 447 (translated from Chinese). I wanting taxi.”
                      “[incomprehensible] 47 ?”
                      “No. 400, 40, 7.”
                      “Ah! 447. You are the French guy. (translated from Chinese)”
                      “Yes, French guy. I wanting taxi.”
                      “Ok, [incomprehensible]. Ok ?”
                      “Ok. Thank you.”

                      He hanged up the phone with an artificial sense of trust. That, he had learnt in that country was primordial. You launched your rocket of desire to the universe and trust that it would all end up as you desired. With that philosophy you better be clear with what you wanted.

                      #2905
                      ÉricÉric
                      Keymaster

                        The package was labeled in Sinese. Goat was fluent in a few languages after many a travel, and although Sinese wasn’t his mother tongue — he was only half-Sinese from his father’s side, he could read it well enough, and make himself passably understood in most of the Colonies.
                        It was a code, or more precisely, a reference. It said 时间舱23号, which you could probably translate as “Time capsule #23”. Back in the days, the Surge Team would bag and tag any strange artefact they confiscated during their missions, and usually would archive them in such capsules.

                        Although the concept of Time-capsule in itself for the old teams was soon to become somewhat of a mind puzzle if you thought too much of it, it still held value of… archaeological, rather than historical sorts for their descendants, such as himself. Of course, if you’d like some wild flowers, you’d rather pick them directly in the dewy meadows or mossy forests where they grew instead of taking them from the interstice of an old moldy book between the pages of which it had been laid down to dry, wouldn’t you. Now, anybody could easily become an historian with complete immediate sensory experience of past times at their perception tips —much like how it started, back in the twenty hundreds, with everyone able to become an amateur geographer in minutes with instant access to the satellites maps of Earth.
                        But being a map reader would never suffice to make you a sailor.

                        So, of course, Time capsules somewhat felt like such old dry plants if you were an historian. But if you were looking for ancient treasures or secret powerful artifacts, you knew you couldn’t just bring them from the past lest you disrupt the chain of events leading you to it. Many had gone madder than Lord Elmed trying to figure out safer ways. Time capsules were such a way.

                        “Now, I guess that fishy stench was there for a reason after all,” he sighed: to keep intruders and medlers off of its content, surely.

                        #2895
                        ÉricÉric
                        Keymaster

                          “Glo, ‘tis me or the story site is very very slow to load a new page today?”
                          “Bugger if I know Sha! I s’pose it ain’t nothing to do with the rodents chewing cables in the cellar, init’?”

                          :fleuron:

                          In Langley’s most underground basements, the Department of Future Boons Investigations had diverted a significant amount of processing power towards a little known website that they had found held distinctive quantum resonance towards the actualization of future events.
                          In short, they believed its random nonsense held key to future events. However the level of encryption had baffled even the most expert specialists.
                          “Major! We had a breakthrough!” Johnny Ingrish passed his head into the smokey office.
                          The Major didn’t like to be disturbed during his morning nap, but this was important. Indeed, a word too strange to be random had appeared a few times:
                          Tartessos – Event probability: 103%
                          103% ! Even the computers couldn’t think straight about it… It had to mean something.

                          #2887
                          Jib
                          Participant

                            Little Jeffrey loved going to the library. It was not far from home and he was allowed to go there on his own.

                            On his way, there were many treasures.

                            One of them was a big giant Tesla Coil. His father had told him it was a fake and the real one was in the science museum on the other side of the planet with all Tesla’s inventions up to the electricityairborn car. Nonetheless, there were always many people playing around and at times lights and electric sounds would give you the impressions as if you were near the real one. Little Jeffrey knew exactly when to go to the library to see the lights and he enjoyed seeing the look on people’s face who were passing by for the first time.

                            But most of all, his favorite was the ship. His father had told him she was a real one and she has been put there because it was the favourite smuggling place of his captain. Little Jeffrey dreamt of her every night. He dreamt he was a pirate, sailing in the oceans with Captain Yang Lang. In his dreams, the ship could even go to the Moon with one of Tesla’s inventions powering her.

                            The Aqua Luna library was named after her.

                            #2886
                            ÉricÉric
                            Keymaster

                              If there was one thing he’d never liked about the Surge Team, Goat was reminded as soon as he crossed the threshold, that had to be the Management.
                              Actually, the Management after years of past grandeur had been heftily trimmed down to just one person, an ageless expressionless Sinese-Bulgarian lady with a hairstyle as plain and ubiquitous as a bowl of steamed rice, the epitome of the chtonian tutelary deity, eternal Guardian of all thresholds.
                              “Good day Antonia.” Goat greeted her, faking the slightest bit of enthusiasm needed to sound polite. Of course, she didn’t answer. Like the Universe, looming and all powerful, all she needed was a request, or better, a long string of numbers from an obscure postal or bookshelf reference.
                              Chopping official documents, the lonely sound of a stamp etching the worn-out surface of her desk was all that troubled the dusty office reeking of onion.
                              “There’s been a delivery for me…” He waited patiently, savouring torturing her with his half-finished sentence. He didn’t have to wait for long though. Maybe she was in a good mood.
                              “Tracking number?” she grumbled without looking at him, fumbling into old logs and piles of carton boxes that may have been there, unclaimed since the time of Baltazar the Great.
                              “There” he handed her a torn yellow stained bit of paper where the numbers were written down in a ornate penmanship. The Management was a place of few words… and even fewer actions he bitterly thought.
                              Working her magic, she handed him the package, wrapped in old Sinese papers that smelt of decaying fish. He barely thanked her, without looking into her eyes, for he knew what was there to be read certainly had no lack of unpleasantness for him.

                              #2884
                              benjaminbenjamin
                              Participant

                                Meanwhile, in a not to distant probable reality, Greenflow, the turtle, was hiding in his shell due to the loud racket that started just moments ago.

                                Bang, sounded his shell once again, an this time even louder than the last one.

                                “Holly Molly, that one was too close to be anything other than a sign,” said Greenflow.

                                “I had better pop out and take a look about and see what the dickens is making all this racket!”

                                Just then a tiny green snout eased out of a house, which was the brilliant green color, and with odd looking symbols etched into its body.

                                Greenflow immediately noticed a silvery shiny ball just inches from his nose, and it was ever so slightly embedded into the brown mud. “What could that be?” he thought.

                                #2881
                                TracyTracy
                                Participant

                                  Baltazar made a face as he swallowed the time travel sickness pill. “Could have made them smaller” he grumbled.

                                  Intu rolled her eyes. “Stop being such a jess and take this” she said, handing him a smoking frothing potion in a tall silver cup. “For the side effects of the Replicator.”

                                  “I hate this time of year. Trying to be in a hundred places at once, all because of that stupid tradition.”

                                  “How do you think I feel?” asked Jesus. “At least you don’t have to wear a nappy.”

                                  “It’s not a nappy, it’s swaddling clothes. Haven’t they finished with all that religion stuff yet?” said Baltazar. “Maybe if we just don’t turn up, it will bring the end forward? Can’t we just stay here in Tartessos? Bugger their parades, I’m not going again.”

                                  Intu gasped. “Baltazar, you can’t let me down now. This might very well be the last time, if everything goes according to plan. I tell you what, I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll arrange for you to meet the reindeer pee travelling salesman on the way.”

                                  #2878
                                  TracyTracy
                                  Participant

                                    “The surge diversion is going well here, Pearl, for the moment. The energy has been channeled into street protests and the vibrations are being changed by an awful lot of banging on saucepans with spoons, somewhat noisy admittedly, but we’re a noisy lot here, and it’s going well. They’ve even adopted the word Tides to describe the surge diversion, and it’s alot more fun on the streets than some other surges I could mention.”

                                    “No need to snort like that, Mari Fe” said Pearl. “We’ve just had word from the remote viewing team, and Ed Steam is in your neck of the woods, and one of your surges must be diverted to take him out.”

                                    “The Three Kings Procession in a few days time might be an opportunity, leave it with me Pearl, I’ll see what I can do. I’d already planned to follow the Three Kings back home after the parade to ancient Tartessos, I’ve been collaberating with the time travel teleport portal people. Did you know that the Pope admitted that the Three Kings were from Andalucia? That was a result of the Occupy The Vatican Library Out of Body team. Anyway, maybe we can send Ed Steam back with them. He won’t be able to cause much trouble from thousands of years ago.”

                                    “Mari Fe, if you’re planning to go back to Tartessos too, you won’t be much help here, will you?”

                                    “Ahhhh!” replied Mari Fe with a cryptic smile. “You wait and see what I bring back with me!”

                                    “Well as long as it’s not Ed Steam, that’s all. Leave him there!”

                                  Viewing 20 results - 1,001 through 1,020 (of 1,660 total)

                                  Daily Random Quote

                                  • “Bugger!” bemoaned Fwick. “Blah! The butter is bitter. The butter I bought to go in the batter with the vegemyth. The butter is bitter, but now it’s blended in my batter and my blimmin batter is bitter.” The little spider giggled gleefully to himself. ... · ID #2409 (continued)
                                    (next in 09h 39min…)

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