Tag Archives: weird

So Wrong Even a One-Eyed Mule in a Root Cellar Could See It’s Bad

It looks like a baby. A scintillating baby refracted through a shattered prism. You could perhaps convince yourself that the effect arises from your smashed spectacles, but you cannot recall smashing them.

But, hey, let’s pretend you did break your specs – in a dust-off, a tumble, what have you. You could take them off, but a one-eyed mule in a root cellar sees better than you. You couldn’t tell a baby from a coal chute from more than a pace or two away.

Lucky for you, these shiny babies like you. They’re mewing as they toddle toward you. It’s hard to tell through the broken sparkliness, but they seem a might bit steadier than your average toddler. The mewing reminds you of hungry kittens. You try to recall if the town has a wet nurse.

They cover the last few paces between you and them in bounds. Whether your mouth falls open because of the bounding or the sight of a mouth no wet nurse would want her bosoms near, let alone in, we will never know because, even if the blood loss wasn’t killing you, you never learned to write and your throat seems to have gone missing.


Notes from the 3rd Guam Xenoarchaeological Expedition

Today we discovered a remarkable passage on partially intact Guamish storage device. It appears to be from a personal journal or diary. (We argued about whether to call the author a blogger or not. It seems obvious to me, but everyone else called it ‘pre-mature as fucking hell,’ so I will bide my time for vindication.)

In any event, we agree that we know now the ancient Guamites did indeed use what some of us affectionately refer to as the “Easter Island guys” for defense. Only the details of how they operate and were moved between Easter Island and Guam remain to be sorted out. Fortunately I didn’t have to remind anyone they used to have hats to make the association of the term “sombrero turret” apparent to my colleagues. (Though I suspect Dr. Applebomber didn’t know and was just playing along to avoid looking any stupider than he does already.) Moving on, we also agree that it seems the training for such duty was highly coveted and rigorous.

Finally, let me present Dr. Zisselfraggen’s translation of the passage:

… and so what if a tree falls and no body hears it, the forests are gone!” I retorted.

The blow came fast and hard, a heavy whip that bruised my lips and made me snarl. My hackles, such as they were, were up and my fingers twitched, eager to make a fist to retaliate with.

He laughed viciously. “Oh yes. Do it. So us all you have the self-control of a pile of shit.”

That brought me up short. I looked at him with a combination of confusion and suspicion. What sort of weird metaphor was that? Shit seemed to have quite a bit of self-control. It just sat there and stank. Was he dumb or testing me?

He realized what a shitty (haha) metaphor he’d made and struggled for control. I struggled not to show the amusement I was feeling.

I failed.

Then, predictably, he failed. Or I’d fallen for the trick and what he did to me no longer mattered, and it was bye-bye sombrero turret dreams for me. Or, I supposed, both.

It wasn’t long after I got over being knocked semi-unconscious that I found out he was dumb and I was still in the program. Now, I just needed…

It’s also with noting the author’s use of scatological humor. I have made a note to investigate the universality of this. Certainly this must be the earliest example of its use.

We are hopeful that our tech, Bernie (I cannot recall his last name), can recover more data from the device, but it was heavily damaged and I count us fortunate to have even these few bytes. What a find!

Misty Boston

Elena let herself collapse against the pillar. Its roughness felt strangely good against her back as she slid down it to sit on the cold, damp stone. The damp was mostly from the mist-like rain, but some of the liquid was blood she would wager.

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