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“Fuck it” said Tracy, collapsing in a tangled heap. “It’s Friday” and she proceeded to roll a fuck-off big splifferoony. “From now on I’m going to just roll with the flow”
Becky hugged Sam. I’m so glad you don’t drink Sam, she said, emotionally.
Well, I do have an occasional pint down at the Duck and Firken, you know, he replied.
You know what I mean, Sam. All those years with Sean, hoping it would all work out…her voice trailed off sadly….
Hey Becky, it wasn’t a waste! Look at all the lovely children you had!
Becky smiled ruefully. Well, it hasn’t exactly been a picnic either, you know….
In actuality, Sumelfi was just pretending to be busy in front of Becky. All this record keeping, so popular with earthlings, was quite simply unnecessary. Anyone at all could access any information at all, in no time at all. Sumelfi and her colleagues had had many a laugh at their assigned individuals and their vast librairies and tag clouds and piles of printed paper records.
The job of the Sumafi Elves was to facilitate finding the right information at the right time, that was all, and if the earthlings felt happier thinking there were actual physical ‘records’, then for the time being, the elves were happy to go along with the illusion.
If only they knew, Sumelfi giggled, the infinitely hugely infinite amount of so called ‘records’ and ‘information’, not to mention its ever-changing malleability, why they’d quite possibly feel completely overwhelmed. Well, thought Sumelfi, I suppose that is the point of Me.
:yahoo_whistling:Tracy needed a pint of Calm Juice, she just couldn’t keep track anymore:yahoo_chatterbox:
Sumelfi was busy. She was a Sumafi Elf from the Database Dimension and had been assigned to Becky, who desperately needed some help with ‘Keeping Track’ as she called it.
Then she had an idea. She went into the bathroom and got a new razor out of the packet. She paused for a moment, but only a moment, and then took a deep breath.
Ten minutes later she surveyed her new look in the mirror. Bald as a coot, and so CUTE! Her delicate elfin features were perfectly suited to the new sleek streamlined style. Becky rummaged in her trinket and jewelry box, and selected some chunky silver Tuareg earrings to compliment the new style, applied deep cranberry red lipstick, and chose a vibrant multicoloured silk dress.
Wow! Becky had to admit she looked absolutely stunning.
Becky was momentarily speechless.
And I just read that one of the female singers in the Tuareg band Tinariwen has just had a baby girl
Becky yawned and blinked. What a dream she’d had, full of babies!
And they had all been squalling and crying at once, making her head spin and deafening her Well, only a dream she said, and went to make coffee.
Whilst eating her breakfast a little later that afternoon (she had overslept well past noon), she perused the Reality Times newspaper. 
There was a big advertisement for the forthcoming opening of the new T.R.A.P. Amusement Park and it reminded her that Sean would be arriving soon from Dublin. 
Unaware of any association with her thoughts about Sean, Becky picked up her telephone and booked an appointment for a haircut.
And I had a baby and twin sync yesterday too, seeing two storks in a field
:weather-showers-scattered:(it was raining lol)WHAT no stork (or even bird!!) icon!! 
I saw 3 peacocks in the road too, halfway up a mountian in the rain…. :weather-showers-scattered: …..on the way to Salitre. (Last time I was there I saw a mongoose….) WHAT!! No mongoose icon!!
Vinya Grey left the laboratory, and projected home to her pod. Her genetics experiments were coming along nicely.
(Becky was wondering whether she really knew enough about the subject to write about it, and decided to do some more research before continuing her entry about the 23rd century)
Becky had been wondering whether the baby Tina had introduced into the reality drama play was a boy or a girl, and had been tempted to look, so to speak, but had felt a reluctance. The thought that the baby was a hermaphrodite had crossed her mind, but she dismissed it, and decided to think about it later…go with the flow, see how things turned out…..
Sanso was surprised at how attached he’d gotten in such a very short time to the poor wee scrap, shunted from pillar to post already and still barely a week old. He made up his mind to take the baby back, perhaps when it was a bit older.
Tracy was having a hard time keeping track