When I finally woke up from my concussion, aka "nap" induced by Mr. Congeniality/Andrew... I was so far beyond pissed off that pissed off was only a distant happy memory.
After all this... Was a pirate actually taking the side of a ninja? I mean, sure... Congeniality did kidnap me, and give me an enormous pain in the ass... But on the other hand, I did enjoy torturing him... and he hadn't ever actually done anything to me...
What. Tha. Fuck.
Was I actually defending that smiley faced bastard?
For the Love of Carlos... I think I've finally lost my mind entirely.
I gave myself a mental head slap and then got busy checking out the layout of my newest prison.
I was tied to a pillar in the middle of the biggest office I had ever seen. There were simply acres and acres of gray marble floors, and the windows gave a 360 degree view of the entire city. Near the eastern edge of this domain was a desk made of some warm and buttery looking wood, and Shiruken, the CEO of the College Board, and Congeniality were standing gathered around a white board on an easel next to this massive work of artistry. Shiruken looked on the board with little interest, smoking some sort of pipe. Wisps of smoke gathered about his head like stroking hands, and he leaned back against the desk.
As I stood slumped against the pillar, all three men were discussing the movement of Princeton Review troops into the suburbs of every small town, minor city, and metropolis in the United States. Their plan was to force every single high school student in our land to take the PSAT, not just once, but TWICE...freshman, sophomore, AND junior year!
Oh the humanity!
My stomach roiled around in an unpleasant dance with my intestines and my colon. For a moment I actually started to believe that I might commit that unpardonable sin (at least in my own eyes) of completely ensuring that I would forever bear the name "Virginia Poopy Pants."
The CEO was a darkly tanned man with brown hair which receeded from his forehead as though it were actively attempting to get as far away from his face as possible. This was understandable, since between his cold gray eyes, hard sneer, and the lines on his mug, I can imagine that any hair follicle worth its weight would run screaming from him... as would anyone else who got in his way. His face was shaved so closely that I wondered if he just stared at his chin in the morning and ordered his follicles to stop producing. It seemed likely. I heard him say,
"Are you sure that the senator has recieved his "contribution"?
Shiruken stared at the CEO in a way that managed to communicate his complete disregard of the man without being insulting enough to give offense before saying,
"Naturally. Andrew paid him last night after escaping from that tub, the Unvanquished. Relax; your plan is a success."
At this, I really did lose it. Though the moan that escaped me was barely a breath of wind, it drew the attention of all three men.
I can't prove it... but I think I actually did stop breathing for a time.
The CEO froze into complete stillness as his eyes met mine across the vast and echo-y chamber.This was much more disturbing than you might think. Although he was somewhat rotund, he seemed to convey a nearly palpable sense of danger, and there was a suspicious bulge under his left arm that suggested to me that he might be carrying more than simple bulk under his suit jacket. His suit was as dark and foreboding as the rest of him, and his Italian leather shoes squeaked for mercy when he turned in my direction.
He didn't look like the CEO of an "educational" corporation. He looked like a hit man for the mob. His whole bearing suggested a clenched fist, ready to be planted squarely in the jaw of anything that might get in his way, and that was exactly how he was looking at me.
I actually felt ice crystals forming in my guts.
'Well that's just great.' I thought. 'First, I'm going to soil myself... and secondly... I'm going to shit icicles. This is going to suck.'
Naturally... This did the trick of making me even more furious.
Was I going to allow this?
Hells to the NO, as the Lizz would say.
Slowly, I conducted a silent scan of my entire body, and everything seemed to be intact... But where were my compadres?
It was at this moment that Shiruken looked away from the whiteboard. When his eyes met mine, the cold look dissolved like ice cubes melting in a glass of warm water; they crinkled and sparkled with humor. He turned slowly, and began to stalk forward. Though it was impossible (for me at least) to determine his actual age, he must have been at least twice as old as me. Still, he moved like smoke across a still room... Nearly flickering from my vision a few times.
It was disturbing in the extreme.
When he was close enough to reach out and slap me, he stopped and said,
"Awake already?" After a slight pause during which I made absolutely no reply, he continued.
"I must say, your highness... My friend Andrew didn't lie when he said that you have the hardest and most unbreakable skull he's ever encountered. At first I thought he was merely pulling his punches, due to his nearly maniacal obsession with certain... female attributes... But perhaps not."
I snorted, and then hawked something out of my throat that looked like a cross between a hairball and a green and yellow gummy bear, hitting him somewhere in the middle of the chest. The goop slid down the front of his shirt like a snail, leaving a track of my DNA in its wake.
The humor in his face vanished quicker than under age college students when the cops show up at a house party. He cocked back his fist for a punch that would probably have landed me in Mass General, but before it could fall, Congeniality was standing at his side and nudging him out of the way. He said,
"Oh Master, please... Allow me. I owe the queen many times over for the insults she has ventured upon my person, and after all, as part of my reward in this matter you did mention that I could... play with her for a while... Yes?"
I could feel my face blanch so white that I probably turned nearly translucent for a minute, and I almost choked on my own tongue.
Now this was the absolute, rock-bottom, slime-covered, purple-backpack-carrying, LIMIT. A sudden hot flash raised my temperature so high I thought I would just start to smoke from every pore. If anyone had touched me at that moment without an oven mitt, they would have taken a third-degree burn to the hand, I swear before Carlos and his holy mother.
"Play?" I spat out.
Before I could continue what would no doubt have been a rip-roaring, ear-searing, side-splitting diatribe, Congeniality/Andrew hit me square on the left cheekbone with no less than 4 knuckles... Though it felt like ten.
But only for the barest whisper of an instant.
Purely in defense, my head snapped to the side, and I took a hard knockl of column to the right side of my face.
When I got my bearings and turned back, Shiruken was drifting back over to the CEO, who was once again staring at the White Board of Doom, and Congeniality first raised his eyebrow at me, and then gave me a look that could charitably be called a smirk.
And he winked.
In a voice so low that it felt like he was speaking directly into my cerebral cortex, he asked, "How was that?"
I whispered back, "Just shut up and untie me smartass... I'm sick of pretending to be scared of you."
He restrained himself... But I could see his eyes, and he was definitely laughing on the inside.
With one swift and silent cut, the knot of the ropes holding me to the marble column gave way like a sandcastle hit by a tsunami. Before Shiruken, the CEO or any nearby henchmen could react, I reached into a hidden location on my person, and pulled out a very small detonator.
And that was the moment that the tide began to really turn in our favor.
The explosion that resulted from my finger on the detonator switch was a small one, but significant.
The desk that Shiruken was once again leaning on exploded in sparks, as the CEO's laptop and his Blackberry both erupted like tiny tiny grenades. Apparently, my emails of the evening before really had been successful.
Sweeeet.
In the next instant, windows were imploding from every side as furious, riled-up, and just plain crazy-ass pirates rappelled in to the room from above. They were howling, swearing, and generally striking fear into the hearts of all and sundry as they landed on the marble floors and skidded towards their foes.
God it was beautiful.
As they landed, ninjas raced in silently from the floor below, and the two groups met in ferocious battle. Smoke bombs flew, pistols kicked out shot after shot, and katana and cutlass clashed with the music of swordplay.
I saw the Quartermaster shooting with one pistol while he dueled a ninja with the other. The boatswain took out three ninjas with a resounding crash when he came barreling into the office from the floor above.
In the center of the maelstrom stood the CEO, staring alternately between Shiruken's fallen form, and my own upright one. His eyes had darkened to the color of dirty and soot-stained pebbles, and his glare could have killed a Pekingese at twenty paces.
But it was lost on me.
With absolutely no thought, consideration, or hesitation, I threw myself across the intervening distance and launched myself at that suit-wearing, holier-than-thou, cappucino-drinking, bastard. I bounced down hard, but my shoulder met his knees with a solid ka-thunk... and I heard something pop in a way that sounded... mighty unpleasant. The CEO let out a roar that could almost be heard above the clash of battling scurvy knaves and silent shadow fighters.
I could feel his hand going for his weapon, but I would not be stopped now. I had been abused, kidnapped, insulted, and thwarted too many times. I was more than willing to "take one for the team" by sacrificing myself, if it would only save all those innocents from the forces of standardized testing.
He reached into his jacket, but I got there first... And my manual dexterity is a hell of a lot better.
The gun went off with a pop that barely registered in my thundering head.
It wasn't so bad...
He won't need that thumb anyway... Not where he's going.
He was still howling at me and glaring furiously into my eyes, as a boot came from the side and struck him right in the ear... At which point he dropped into a sweet and peaceful dream state.
And a hand was offered...
I took it.
As I got to my feet, the battle continued to rage... But it was almost over.
Can you believe it?
*Personal Note to the Reader:
On a side note, I would just like to say... When you are a sneaky, badass pirate queen like myself, there are a few advantages to being built like... well... A Fucking TANK, and they are the following:
1. Distraction (If you can't win them over with your looks, you can at least shock them into stunned silence with your... fashion choices).
2. Hidden cargo space that never seems to get searched (personally, I think it's because I've just got too much acreage in the ... pectoral area... The entirety just never seems to get completely "patted down" if you know what I mean).
Just sayin'.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Saturday, July 17, 2010
The Furious Ninja Horde and a Resounding Defeat... Or is it?
When we reached the end of the back hallway into the College Board headquarters, all was silence.
I knew that I was totally within my rights to be terrified.
Carlos only knew how many of Shiruken's men lurked above with malice in their hearts and cold steel in their hands.
Thus, even though my teeny tiny heart quaked just a bit, I "nutted up" and took point at the head of my small band. I thought that I heard one sailor growl in his throat while another let escape a small sigh of relief. I could totally relate to both of them.
I put my hand on the knob, and began to turn it slowly.
The bolt gave way in a perfection of silence, and pulled the door slowly toward me, keeping my free hand on my drawn sword.
And as you probably expected... That was when 18 new kinds of hell broke loose.
The second the door was fully opened, and alarm began to blare with a voice like Rush Limbaugh after a 6 day bender... Which is to say, loudly, and at great length... With more than just a hint of a sneer thrown in.
I refused to let this slow me. I looked across what felt like an acre of vestibule... or do I mean lobby?
It was deserted.
Well, of course, by deserted, what I mean is that the floor itself held no ninjas.
Nah.
Instead, the ninjas were approaching by means of 5 different stairways, and several glass elevators.
My little band was, for all intents and purposes, completely surrounded by a black-clad, slipper-wearin', steel star-throwin', cousin-lovin', ninjas.
My tiny crew froze for only an instant before shots began to ring out from behind me, tossing back some of the first wave that had only begun to set foot to the shiny shiny floor.
It was no good. Though we fought mercilessly, we were doomed from the start.
My vorpal blade went 'snicker-snack' through the fruminous horde, slaying many times the number of ninjas I could possibly count on two, or even four hands, if I had them.
It still wasn't enough.
Cosgrove took a star in the shoulder of his sword arm, and it stuck out like a badly placed piercing. Grrrl went down with a handful of gunpowder still in her hand like a fistful of magic dust. The bodies of our enemies made a small hill before us...
And then I felt the blow to the back of my head. I just barely had time to think,
"WTF... AGAIN? SERIOUSLY? This is COMPLETE BULLSHIT!" When spots began to appear everywhere in the room, and my vision shrank from its usual catlike acuity to a mere pinprick.
The final thing I saw as I slumped, gasping, to the marble floor was the crinkled eyes, dimple, and huge grin on the face of Mr. Congeniality as he stood over me.
And what did that smiling bastard say to me?
"Gotcha, Queenie. Sweet dreams."
Oh shi----
I knew that I was totally within my rights to be terrified.
Carlos only knew how many of Shiruken's men lurked above with malice in their hearts and cold steel in their hands.
Thus, even though my teeny tiny heart quaked just a bit, I "nutted up" and took point at the head of my small band. I thought that I heard one sailor growl in his throat while another let escape a small sigh of relief. I could totally relate to both of them.
I put my hand on the knob, and began to turn it slowly.
The bolt gave way in a perfection of silence, and pulled the door slowly toward me, keeping my free hand on my drawn sword.
And as you probably expected... That was when 18 new kinds of hell broke loose.
The second the door was fully opened, and alarm began to blare with a voice like Rush Limbaugh after a 6 day bender... Which is to say, loudly, and at great length... With more than just a hint of a sneer thrown in.
I refused to let this slow me. I looked across what felt like an acre of vestibule... or do I mean lobby?
It was deserted.
Well, of course, by deserted, what I mean is that the floor itself held no ninjas.
Nah.
Instead, the ninjas were approaching by means of 5 different stairways, and several glass elevators.
My little band was, for all intents and purposes, completely surrounded by a black-clad, slipper-wearin', steel star-throwin', cousin-lovin', ninjas.
My tiny crew froze for only an instant before shots began to ring out from behind me, tossing back some of the first wave that had only begun to set foot to the shiny shiny floor.
It was no good. Though we fought mercilessly, we were doomed from the start.
My vorpal blade went 'snicker-snack' through the fruminous horde, slaying many times the number of ninjas I could possibly count on two, or even four hands, if I had them.
It still wasn't enough.
Cosgrove took a star in the shoulder of his sword arm, and it stuck out like a badly placed piercing. Grrrl went down with a handful of gunpowder still in her hand like a fistful of magic dust. The bodies of our enemies made a small hill before us...
And then I felt the blow to the back of my head. I just barely had time to think,
"WTF... AGAIN? SERIOUSLY? This is COMPLETE BULLSHIT!" When spots began to appear everywhere in the room, and my vision shrank from its usual catlike acuity to a mere pinprick.
The final thing I saw as I slumped, gasping, to the marble floor was the crinkled eyes, dimple, and huge grin on the face of Mr. Congeniality as he stood over me.
And what did that smiling bastard say to me?
"Gotcha, Queenie. Sweet dreams."
Oh shi----
Once More... With Feeling!
Sometimes it feels really weird having a diary that anyone in the whole world could look at if they really wanted to... But then I look at the SiteMeter on this page, and I realize...
"Huh... Apparently no one actually wants to read my thoughts. Well, okay then."
And I go about my merry little way.
So it is with that thought in mind that I inscribe this missive to all those who will never read it. Yes indeed.
It is once again late at night. It is once again hot. And as on other occasions... I cannot possibly fall asleep.
Why?
Well, for once I have an actual reason.
My reason is complete mystification. Yes, I know it's hard to believe that I can't understand something, being the kick ass grammarian super-heroine that you know and love... But I just don't get it.
There are actually two hidden things going on in the Queen's life right now. The first is that I discovered recently that a mercenary with whom I once had dealings is dying. No one knows about this except one of his offspring, myself, and Papergrrl, since she is the only one that I've told about this.
And I'm torn. On the one hand, I feel sad that the offspring in question is so distraut. Now he's mostly distraught not by the fact that the mercenary is dying, but by the fact that he is homeless and continues to return to the great outdoors instead of dying in a hospital bed. Apparently, he has gone to the hospital several times, but given the fact that he has the plague, they have said that there is nothing they can really do for him. Naturally, his illness is exacerbated by the fact that he split his head open on a railroad tie at some point during a fight with another mercenary.
Naturally, I'm vaguing this up for you, in order to protect both the innocent and the guilty.
Guess how I spent Friday afternoon this week?
I'll tell you... Hunting for homeless camps in Concord. Oh yea, I cannot possibly make this shit up. I only hunted for him in order to hopefully scare him into staying in the hospital in order to make his offspring feel better.
I didn't find him, but Papergrrl and I are still looking.
Of course I also mentioned another hidden issue.
That one is a bit more sensitive, and I'm loathe to discuss it... Even with you. I mean, I know I can trust you not to say anything... But it's a bit embarassing.
Suffice to say... Clearly, I don't have a fucking clue, and I absolutely hate that.
Why can't we all just say what we really mean? It would make life so much simpler. (Naturally, given the fact that I've basically told you nothing about the second issue at the same time as I say that I wish people would just say what they really think is totally ironic. Trust me, the irony of that statement wasn't lost on me, there just isn't much I can do about it).
*sigh*
Alright... I guess I'm done for now.
Sorry for turning all girly on you. My bad.
"Huh... Apparently no one actually wants to read my thoughts. Well, okay then."
And I go about my merry little way.
So it is with that thought in mind that I inscribe this missive to all those who will never read it. Yes indeed.
It is once again late at night. It is once again hot. And as on other occasions... I cannot possibly fall asleep.
Why?
Well, for once I have an actual reason.
My reason is complete mystification. Yes, I know it's hard to believe that I can't understand something, being the kick ass grammarian super-heroine that you know and love... But I just don't get it.
There are actually two hidden things going on in the Queen's life right now. The first is that I discovered recently that a mercenary with whom I once had dealings is dying. No one knows about this except one of his offspring, myself, and Papergrrl, since she is the only one that I've told about this.
And I'm torn. On the one hand, I feel sad that the offspring in question is so distraut. Now he's mostly distraught not by the fact that the mercenary is dying, but by the fact that he is homeless and continues to return to the great outdoors instead of dying in a hospital bed. Apparently, he has gone to the hospital several times, but given the fact that he has the plague, they have said that there is nothing they can really do for him. Naturally, his illness is exacerbated by the fact that he split his head open on a railroad tie at some point during a fight with another mercenary.
Naturally, I'm vaguing this up for you, in order to protect both the innocent and the guilty.
Guess how I spent Friday afternoon this week?
I'll tell you... Hunting for homeless camps in Concord. Oh yea, I cannot possibly make this shit up. I only hunted for him in order to hopefully scare him into staying in the hospital in order to make his offspring feel better.
I didn't find him, but Papergrrl and I are still looking.
Of course I also mentioned another hidden issue.
That one is a bit more sensitive, and I'm loathe to discuss it... Even with you. I mean, I know I can trust you not to say anything... But it's a bit embarassing.
Suffice to say... Clearly, I don't have a fucking clue, and I absolutely hate that.
Why can't we all just say what we really mean? It would make life so much simpler. (Naturally, given the fact that I've basically told you nothing about the second issue at the same time as I say that I wish people would just say what they really think is totally ironic. Trust me, the irony of that statement wasn't lost on me, there just isn't much I can do about it).
*sigh*
Alright... I guess I'm done for now.
Sorry for turning all girly on you. My bad.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Square Pegs and Hidden Firearms
I have always known that I didn't quite fit in. In society, at the Saltmine, in my family...and I wasn't always comfortable with that...until now.
This story starts as so many others of mine have...Setting off on the road.
So I was blasting The Artist In the Ambulance when I started to get thirsty on my ride home tonight after a meeting at the Saltmine. I pulled off the road in a little nowhere town called Hillsborotonville and squealed (only a little) into the Dunkin' Donuts parking lot. It was 5 in the afternoon and it never occurred to me that I might be getting myself in trouble, but I had just gotten my license to carry concealed and I was getting used to having a gun strapped in a place that is...well...accessible, but not overly so.
I locked my car. This town appeared to be chock-full of car-stealing-cow-tipping-pot-smoking-wanna-be-gansta types, and I wasn't going to take any chances with the G.B. As I was walking to the front door, about to go inside, just drooling and trembling with the thought of my next iced tea fix, I heard a VERY loud wolf whistle. As per my usual modus operandi, I ignored the irritating whistle and tried to convince myself that I wasn't instantly embarrassed and regressing to the 10th grade. I continued to proceed calmly toward the front door of said Dunkin'. (Sometimes, I call it Dunkie’s for short but only when I'm mocking one of my least favorite acquaintances).
Only a few moments later, while being served by a woman with glasses as thick as the windshield on the president's limo, I hear the door open behind me. The part of me that is still way too curious began to turn, when I smelled it. The odor was something like a combination of wet cow dung and VERY potent B.O. While puking in my mouth a little, I paid for my merchandise and turned to leave, avoiding the smell with the sixth sense of a woman who works with the great unwashed masses, when the source of the odor stepped up and said,
"Hey, I seen you around a coupl'a times this week. You must be new 'roun here."
"Uhh, suure," I said, smiling and heading quickly for the exit...which irritatingly seemed to be getting farther away instead of closer for some reason.
Predictably, this red-neck boy/man must have seen one two many bad action flicks as a teenager, he stepped back in front of me and said,
"What's yer hurry, Baby? You gotta nice rack there."
Seriously. I cannot possibly make this shit up.
Also predictably, I sighed inside and wondered, ‘didn't this guy ever pay attention to what happens to the guys in the bad action flicks who say this crap?’ (Having recently seen the movie Predators, I have this on good authority).
Luckily, though he was focused on me, he wasn't expecting much resistance, so I made my move and pulled the classic basketball defense, the pick and roll, using the equally aromatic buddy standing behind him as my unlikely teammate.
Reaching the front door I burst through into the stagnant but not nearly so fragrant, air outside the vestibule and breathed deeply, hurrying to my car.
You have to understand, it wasn't that I was scared of him, I just didn't want to waste good iced tea by spilling it all over the pavement.
Just as I had set my coffee on the roof of my car and was about to unlock my door, I hear the sound of scuffling feet on the pavement behind me. I turned. Guess who? Oh yeah, it was him....again.
Before he could get any closer I reached down for my Berretta, pulled it out and shoved it in his direction. The second he saw the gun, he froze. (Thank Carlos). And I said, "Listen buddy, I'm a fucking teacher, therefore, I'm totally on edge, I'm crazy as hell, I'm really pissed off right now, I have a fast car, and I'd just love to shoot your nuts off...
I'm sure every sheep, cow, and pig in this little pissant backwater would all thank me. Care to try your luck?"
Needless to say, with no further molestation, I returned the gun to its holster, grabbed my tea and unlocked my car. The mingled shock, disbelief and horror on the townie's face filled my heart with glee.
Sometimes it's pretty good to be me after all.
What a shame I won't have a dancing partner at the next ho-down though.
Oh by the way, I got the guy's license plate down...
Anyone with no sense of smell looking to meet a hairy, buck-toothed local?
I can definitely get you the hook-up!
This story starts as so many others of mine have...Setting off on the road.
So I was blasting The Artist In the Ambulance when I started to get thirsty on my ride home tonight after a meeting at the Saltmine. I pulled off the road in a little nowhere town called Hillsborotonville and squealed (only a little) into the Dunkin' Donuts parking lot. It was 5 in the afternoon and it never occurred to me that I might be getting myself in trouble, but I had just gotten my license to carry concealed and I was getting used to having a gun strapped in a place that is...well...accessible, but not overly so.
I locked my car. This town appeared to be chock-full of car-stealing-cow-tipping-pot-smoking-wanna-be-gansta types, and I wasn't going to take any chances with the G.B. As I was walking to the front door, about to go inside, just drooling and trembling with the thought of my next iced tea fix, I heard a VERY loud wolf whistle. As per my usual modus operandi, I ignored the irritating whistle and tried to convince myself that I wasn't instantly embarrassed and regressing to the 10th grade. I continued to proceed calmly toward the front door of said Dunkin'. (Sometimes, I call it Dunkie’s for short but only when I'm mocking one of my least favorite acquaintances).
Only a few moments later, while being served by a woman with glasses as thick as the windshield on the president's limo, I hear the door open behind me. The part of me that is still way too curious began to turn, when I smelled it. The odor was something like a combination of wet cow dung and VERY potent B.O. While puking in my mouth a little, I paid for my merchandise and turned to leave, avoiding the smell with the sixth sense of a woman who works with the great unwashed masses, when the source of the odor stepped up and said,
"Hey, I seen you around a coupl'a times this week. You must be new 'roun here."
"Uhh, suure," I said, smiling and heading quickly for the exit...which irritatingly seemed to be getting farther away instead of closer for some reason.
Predictably, this red-neck boy/man must have seen one two many bad action flicks as a teenager, he stepped back in front of me and said,
"What's yer hurry, Baby? You gotta nice rack there."
Seriously. I cannot possibly make this shit up.
Also predictably, I sighed inside and wondered, ‘didn't this guy ever pay attention to what happens to the guys in the bad action flicks who say this crap?’ (Having recently seen the movie Predators, I have this on good authority).
Luckily, though he was focused on me, he wasn't expecting much resistance, so I made my move and pulled the classic basketball defense, the pick and roll, using the equally aromatic buddy standing behind him as my unlikely teammate.
Reaching the front door I burst through into the stagnant but not nearly so fragrant, air outside the vestibule and breathed deeply, hurrying to my car.
You have to understand, it wasn't that I was scared of him, I just didn't want to waste good iced tea by spilling it all over the pavement.
Just as I had set my coffee on the roof of my car and was about to unlock my door, I hear the sound of scuffling feet on the pavement behind me. I turned. Guess who? Oh yeah, it was him....again.
Before he could get any closer I reached down for my Berretta, pulled it out and shoved it in his direction. The second he saw the gun, he froze. (Thank Carlos). And I said, "Listen buddy, I'm a fucking teacher, therefore, I'm totally on edge, I'm crazy as hell, I'm really pissed off right now, I have a fast car, and I'd just love to shoot your nuts off...
I'm sure every sheep, cow, and pig in this little pissant backwater would all thank me. Care to try your luck?"
Needless to say, with no further molestation, I returned the gun to its holster, grabbed my tea and unlocked my car. The mingled shock, disbelief and horror on the townie's face filled my heart with glee.
Sometimes it's pretty good to be me after all.
What a shame I won't have a dancing partner at the next ho-down though.
Oh by the way, I got the guy's license plate down...
Anyone with no sense of smell looking to meet a hairy, buck-toothed local?
I can definitely get you the hook-up!
Just a Rant for the Road
I just noticed this on my homepage in the ads section...
"Inside A Boyfriend's Mind
Simple Tips Any Girl Can Use To Keep Your Boyfriend In Line!
www.CatchHimAndKeepHim.com"
I have just one question here...
Do any guys out there find this to be degrading and insulting?
If not, consider me to feel degraded, insulted and disgusted on your behalf.
You see, this is what's wrong with our society.
Supposedly everyone is searching for love, right? Yet, the goal is to "catch" someone and then manipulate them into loving you.
Personally, I think that's pretty fucking sick.
AND YET, I'M THE SCREWED UP ONE??
I think not.
Just so you know, I like the male species. I mostly find them to be funny and charming (with a few notable exceptions). Yes, they are certainly different from women... Uh, frankly, I always kind of thought that was the point... But obviously, I'm clueless.
Here's an idea... Just accept men and women for who they are...why feel that you need to "change/save/fix" them?
If you are a girl who thinks that ad is a good idea and would willingly click on it, I feel sorry for you.
Yet ironically, you'll probably never be single.
How tragic.
"Inside A Boyfriend's Mind
Simple Tips Any Girl Can Use To Keep Your Boyfriend In Line!
www.CatchHimAndKeepHim.com"
I have just one question here...
Do any guys out there find this to be degrading and insulting?
If not, consider me to feel degraded, insulted and disgusted on your behalf.
You see, this is what's wrong with our society.
Supposedly everyone is searching for love, right? Yet, the goal is to "catch" someone and then manipulate them into loving you.
Personally, I think that's pretty fucking sick.
AND YET, I'M THE SCREWED UP ONE??
I think not.
Just so you know, I like the male species. I mostly find them to be funny and charming (with a few notable exceptions). Yes, they are certainly different from women... Uh, frankly, I always kind of thought that was the point... But obviously, I'm clueless.
Here's an idea... Just accept men and women for who they are...why feel that you need to "change/save/fix" them?
If you are a girl who thinks that ad is a good idea and would willingly click on it, I feel sorry for you.
Yet ironically, you'll probably never be single.
How tragic.
Monday, July 12, 2010
A Nap, A Crew of Scurvy Knaves, An 18-Wheeler, and A Workable Distraction, or, Don't Give Up Now Folks... We're Almost There
When I finished sending nefarious emails I hit my bunk for a short cat nap.
A few hours later it was still dark, but I dragged my barnacled butt out of bed, tossed on a rather kick ass and frilly shirt, some black jeans and yet another pair of my ubiquitous boots.
I strapped on my cutlass, checked to ensure that my flintlock was ready for action, stuffed my recovered multi-tool in one boot, and sashayed to the deck.
Thanks to the superior sailing skills of my loyal crew, we were already nearly at our destination... The port of Boston.
We would make those ninjas sorry for their shenanigans.
And take out the forces of standardized testing at the knees.
I could almost hear the rousing strains of "The Final Countdown" ringing in my ears.
When we made port, the boats were lowered, and we filed on board.
Within minutes we were trooping stealthily (for pirates anyway) through the streets of Boston, headed for the Northeastern headquarters of that hive of scum and villainy... The College Board.
Stationing the bulk of my force around emergency exits, myself and a few of the bravest souls headed for the rear entrance. Dodging guards, and even a few ninja sentries, we made our way to the loading dock.
There we waited.
Within minutes of my text message to "Brisket" Cosgrove, the sound of an 18-wheeler on steroids came echoing down the entrance to the monolithic corporation's headquarters.
He was right on time.
A few mothballed security guards, and quite a few ninjas came hustling out the back entrance, leaving the dock almost entirely deserted. Cosgrove took this opportunity to gun the huge beast's engine, and make straight for several, much smaller, vehicles.
The scene on the dock was total pandemonium as Cosgrove took out three small trucks and an SUV that stood inconveniently in his path. Ninjas were whirling into action, taking aim with smoke bombs, throwing stars, and several makeshift weapons, but Cosgrove had chosen his vehicle well, and he shook off every attack like a horse shakes off flies with a flick of its tail.
Seeing that he had the distraction well in hand, I signaled to the loyal band of scurvy knaves with me, and we snuck in the back. Some of my men had daggers clenched between their teeth, and Grrrrl had her lock-picking tools in hand. Of course, by lock picking tools, I refer to horn of gun powder and an unlit match. She took only moments to pop the lock on the final door standing between us and a back hallway to the offices of The College Board.
We were in.
And those damn ninjas had no idea the hell they had brought down upon themselves.
I just love it when a plan comes together... as a famous actor once said.
A few hours later it was still dark, but I dragged my barnacled butt out of bed, tossed on a rather kick ass and frilly shirt, some black jeans and yet another pair of my ubiquitous boots.
I strapped on my cutlass, checked to ensure that my flintlock was ready for action, stuffed my recovered multi-tool in one boot, and sashayed to the deck.
Thanks to the superior sailing skills of my loyal crew, we were already nearly at our destination... The port of Boston.
We would make those ninjas sorry for their shenanigans.
And take out the forces of standardized testing at the knees.
I could almost hear the rousing strains of "The Final Countdown" ringing in my ears.
When we made port, the boats were lowered, and we filed on board.
Within minutes we were trooping stealthily (for pirates anyway) through the streets of Boston, headed for the Northeastern headquarters of that hive of scum and villainy... The College Board.
Stationing the bulk of my force around emergency exits, myself and a few of the bravest souls headed for the rear entrance. Dodging guards, and even a few ninja sentries, we made our way to the loading dock.
There we waited.
Within minutes of my text message to "Brisket" Cosgrove, the sound of an 18-wheeler on steroids came echoing down the entrance to the monolithic corporation's headquarters.
He was right on time.
A few mothballed security guards, and quite a few ninjas came hustling out the back entrance, leaving the dock almost entirely deserted. Cosgrove took this opportunity to gun the huge beast's engine, and make straight for several, much smaller, vehicles.
The scene on the dock was total pandemonium as Cosgrove took out three small trucks and an SUV that stood inconveniently in his path. Ninjas were whirling into action, taking aim with smoke bombs, throwing stars, and several makeshift weapons, but Cosgrove had chosen his vehicle well, and he shook off every attack like a horse shakes off flies with a flick of its tail.
Seeing that he had the distraction well in hand, I signaled to the loyal band of scurvy knaves with me, and we snuck in the back. Some of my men had daggers clenched between their teeth, and Grrrrl had her lock-picking tools in hand. Of course, by lock picking tools, I refer to horn of gun powder and an unlit match. She took only moments to pop the lock on the final door standing between us and a back hallway to the offices of The College Board.
We were in.
And those damn ninjas had no idea the hell they had brought down upon themselves.
I just love it when a plan comes together... as a famous actor once said.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
The Pirate Queen's Soundtrack, or, Seriously... Who the Hell Wants to Live Forever?
Okay, so I’m finally back from rollerblading… Two hours in the hot sun was enough for me. Luckily though, my favorite local roller blading spot was pretty deserted, which is good. As you know, I usually go late at night, mostly because I tend to wear significantly less clothing than I do under normal circumstances, and I am well aware that ladies who look like me--- well, let’s just say… There are some things that NO ONE wants to see.
I can accept this. And the fact is... When I put on a tank top... The damned thing is bound to scream for mercy.
I am aerodynamically challenged. It is what it is, and short of major surgery... it's not going to change any time soon.
Get the fuck over it. If I can live with it, you certainly can. Afterall, you're not the one carrying a six-month old around on YOUR chest.
Still, there are some days when it just feels good to get out under the sun and sweat a bit. So off I went, with a song in my heart and a swing in my hips.
As it happens, when I stopped off at a local watering hole to obtain an enormous bottle of water for my little excursion, I happened to run into someone I know. They asked where I was off to, and I explained. This person noticed the headphones slung casually over my shoulder and said, in a shocked voice,
“You listen to music while you do that? Isn’t that awfully dangerous?”
At first I laughed, because I thought that they were totally kidding. When I realized that this person was actually serious, I put on an equally serious face, crossed my fingers behind my back, and said, “Don’t worry, I only put the volume on LOW.” The look of relief on this person’s face was painfully obvious.
I left the encounter feeling a bit put off. I mean, I realize that this person was only concerned for my safety. But still… What the fuck, do I LOOK like I want to live forever?
And the truth is… I NEED a soundtrack in order to exercise.
Running… roller blading… hiking… bull-fighting... driving...
The only time I can do these things without music is when I do them WITH someone. If I’m alone, I either get bored, or I start to think about things that piss me off, namely HOW MUCH GODDAMNED PAIN I’M IN.
Am I the only one who understands this concept?
Hell, if I could somehow pull it off… I’d have a soundtrack following me EVERYWHERE.
That way, no one would ever actually have to ask how I was doing… They would be able to tell by listening to my theme music.
Now that’s an idea…
Anyone need a job?
Tee-hee.
So anyway… Someone recently asked me what kind of music I listen to when doing any sort of physical exercise alone… So here’s the list.*
Feel free to either ignore it, or mock me. (I have made some notes next to a few of the songs, but I’m pretty sure you won’t be interested in reading them).
Meh.
Talk to you later, Homes.
Oh, and by the way... There is pretty much one volume that music should be played at when exercising, and it's not LOW.
Just sayin'.
*The Pirate Queen's Current Playlist (with notes)
Click, Click Boom - Saliva (Do I really need to explain this one? Seriously?)
My Way or the Highway - Kid Rock (Why the hell not?)
Holly (Would You Turn Me On?) - All Time Low
Crazy Bitch - Buckcherry (LOL... Oh come on... How could you NOT love this song?)
The Birds and the Bees - Breathe Carolina (I bet you can guess what THIS one is about)
You Should've Killed Me When You Had the Chance - A Day to Remember
Someday You Will Be Loved - Death Cab for Cutie (Well... Here's hoping anyway)
Break on Through - the Doors (Need I say more?)
Those Shoes - The Eagles (As you know... I'm all about the shoes.)
May It Be - Enya - Lord of the Rings Soundtrack (If you don't already know that I love that movie... I guess you don't know me as well as I thought).
Paralyzer - Finger Eleven (Yup... another song about sex... God I'm transparent).
Remember the Name - Fort Minor
Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Hell - Four Year Strong (The title still makes me laugh)
Pure Energy(club mix) - Information Society (HOLY 90's BATMAN!!)
Your Body is a Wonderland - John Mayer (Hmmm... nevermind. I'm not saying it.)
Heartless - Kanye West
Dance in the Dark - Lady Gaga
Given Up - Linkin Park (I FRIGGIN' love these guys... Seriously)
Valentine's Day - Linkin Park
Deep Enough (Fast and Furious Soundtrack Remix) - Live (I mean, come on... Have you LISTENED to the words? LOL)
The War of All Against All - Receiving End of Sirens (Best. Intro. EVER.)
Save Me - Aimee Mann (Every girl needs a hero... Even me, surprisingly).
Danger Zone - Kenny Loggins (Top Gun soundtrack)
Playing with the Boys - same as above (Oh come on... It's so cheesy, you have to love it)
Fortress Around Your Heart - Sting (*sigh*)
Bad Girlfriend - Theory of a Deadman
Pain - Three Days Grace
Sandstorm - Darude
Buffy the Vampire Slayer Theme Music - Nerf Herder (Still one of my all-time FAVORITE shows... I LOVE Spike)
Kryptonite - Three Doors Down (I mean, come on... It's a love song that incorporates a superhero... need I really explain this?)
Here I Go Again On My Own - Whitesnake (Sure... it's old... but it's basically the story of my life)
Remember Me - Josh Groban (I'm not explaining this one)
Well... If you actually read all the way to here... Wow. Honestly, I didn't think anyone would actually bother, so if you did...
You're obviously a masochist. But I love you for it.
V t PQ
I can accept this. And the fact is... When I put on a tank top... The damned thing is bound to scream for mercy.
I am aerodynamically challenged. It is what it is, and short of major surgery... it's not going to change any time soon.
Get the fuck over it. If I can live with it, you certainly can. Afterall, you're not the one carrying a six-month old around on YOUR chest.
Still, there are some days when it just feels good to get out under the sun and sweat a bit. So off I went, with a song in my heart and a swing in my hips.
As it happens, when I stopped off at a local watering hole to obtain an enormous bottle of water for my little excursion, I happened to run into someone I know. They asked where I was off to, and I explained. This person noticed the headphones slung casually over my shoulder and said, in a shocked voice,
“You listen to music while you do that? Isn’t that awfully dangerous?”
At first I laughed, because I thought that they were totally kidding. When I realized that this person was actually serious, I put on an equally serious face, crossed my fingers behind my back, and said, “Don’t worry, I only put the volume on LOW.” The look of relief on this person’s face was painfully obvious.
I left the encounter feeling a bit put off. I mean, I realize that this person was only concerned for my safety. But still… What the fuck, do I LOOK like I want to live forever?
And the truth is… I NEED a soundtrack in order to exercise.
Running… roller blading… hiking… bull-fighting... driving...
The only time I can do these things without music is when I do them WITH someone. If I’m alone, I either get bored, or I start to think about things that piss me off, namely HOW MUCH GODDAMNED PAIN I’M IN.
Am I the only one who understands this concept?
Hell, if I could somehow pull it off… I’d have a soundtrack following me EVERYWHERE.
That way, no one would ever actually have to ask how I was doing… They would be able to tell by listening to my theme music.
Now that’s an idea…
Anyone need a job?
Tee-hee.
So anyway… Someone recently asked me what kind of music I listen to when doing any sort of physical exercise alone… So here’s the list.*
Feel free to either ignore it, or mock me. (I have made some notes next to a few of the songs, but I’m pretty sure you won’t be interested in reading them).
Meh.
Talk to you later, Homes.
Oh, and by the way... There is pretty much one volume that music should be played at when exercising, and it's not LOW.
Just sayin'.
*The Pirate Queen's Current Playlist (with notes)
Click, Click Boom - Saliva (Do I really need to explain this one? Seriously?)
My Way or the Highway - Kid Rock (Why the hell not?)
Holly (Would You Turn Me On?) - All Time Low
Crazy Bitch - Buckcherry (LOL... Oh come on... How could you NOT love this song?)
The Birds and the Bees - Breathe Carolina (I bet you can guess what THIS one is about)
You Should've Killed Me When You Had the Chance - A Day to Remember
Someday You Will Be Loved - Death Cab for Cutie (Well... Here's hoping anyway)
Break on Through - the Doors (Need I say more?)
Those Shoes - The Eagles (As you know... I'm all about the shoes.)
May It Be - Enya - Lord of the Rings Soundtrack (If you don't already know that I love that movie... I guess you don't know me as well as I thought).
Paralyzer - Finger Eleven (Yup... another song about sex... God I'm transparent).
Remember the Name - Fort Minor
Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Hell - Four Year Strong (The title still makes me laugh)
Pure Energy(club mix) - Information Society (HOLY 90's BATMAN!!)
Your Body is a Wonderland - John Mayer (Hmmm... nevermind. I'm not saying it.)
Heartless - Kanye West
Dance in the Dark - Lady Gaga
Given Up - Linkin Park (I FRIGGIN' love these guys... Seriously)
Valentine's Day - Linkin Park
Deep Enough (Fast and Furious Soundtrack Remix) - Live (I mean, come on... Have you LISTENED to the words? LOL)
The War of All Against All - Receiving End of Sirens (Best. Intro. EVER.)
Save Me - Aimee Mann (Every girl needs a hero... Even me, surprisingly).
Danger Zone - Kenny Loggins (Top Gun soundtrack)
Playing with the Boys - same as above (Oh come on... It's so cheesy, you have to love it)
Fortress Around Your Heart - Sting (*sigh*)
Bad Girlfriend - Theory of a Deadman
Pain - Three Days Grace
Sandstorm - Darude
Buffy the Vampire Slayer Theme Music - Nerf Herder (Still one of my all-time FAVORITE shows... I LOVE Spike)
Kryptonite - Three Doors Down (I mean, come on... It's a love song that incorporates a superhero... need I really explain this?)
Here I Go Again On My Own - Whitesnake (Sure... it's old... but it's basically the story of my life)
Remember Me - Josh Groban (I'm not explaining this one)
Well... If you actually read all the way to here... Wow. Honestly, I didn't think anyone would actually bother, so if you did...
You're obviously a masochist. But I love you for it.
V t PQ
The Beginning of the End of the Latest Pirate Queen Tale, or, The Queen Drives the Yellow Submarine
...As Shiro’s dying light bobbed ahead of me, I ran full tilt, heedless of rocks, holes, or any other obstructions.
The prospect of mayhem filled me with the same giddy joy a Girl Scout must feel when she crushes the opposition by selling 1,000 boxes of poisoned cookies to a charitable organization. Those Girl Scouts are second only to the ninjas on the Pirate Association's "Most Wanted Dead" List.
Still... Cookies... Mmmm. Now back to the story.
Anyway, though the sprint seemed to take only minutes, by the time Shiro had stopped in a small cavern, I was dripping with saltwater... unfortunately, it wasn't cool and refreshing Atlantic seawater, it was my own sweat. It was running into my eyes. Ick.
As much as I would like to believe that this was a devastatingly sexy look on me… I tend to doubt it. I mean, the fact is… other women “glow” when they work out… I on the other hand… Don’t. Seriously, it would take either true love, horniness on an Epic scale, or a serious vision impairment for any man to not run, shuddering, away from me when I’ve been running/rollerblading/hiking/etc.
When it comes to being glamorous and sexy, I’m a total Fail.
But, I digress.
This smaller cavern was still dark, dank, and unwelcoming, but it had a distinct advantage over the previous one, because it was stuffed chock full of submersible goodness. Oh yeah… before me in the water sat a lovely little submarine. Although I should probably have been thinking about how great it would be to get back to the Unvanquished, what I mostly thought was,
“Oooh… Shiny!”
My second thought was something like,
“I wonder how fast I can get it to top speed? I mean, I don’t have a license or anything… but how hard could it be to drive? It looks like a Volkswagen Bug for otters. Sweet… I wonder if it’s a standard or an automatic?”
At this point, Congeniality stumbled out of the passageway and into the cavern as well.
I growled.
“Hey Shiro,” I said, “I don’t suppose you have something Mr. Congeniality can wear do you? Every time I look at him my Twinkie threatens to leave my guts in an unpleasantly projectile-esque manner.”
For a second Shiro looked lost, and then realized I was referring to his brother. He snorted with laughter before reaching into what looked like an empty oil drum and pulling out some pants and a shirt and tossing them over. He added, “Congeniality… That’s good. Actually, his name is Andrew, but we generally refer to him as “Billie D” since he’s hoping that someday he’ll actually be smooth with the ladies.”
Congeniality, aka “Andrew” grunted as he pulled on jeans. “You’re just jealous. Look how much Queenie likes me already. Hey, Your Majesty, want to shiver my---“
Yeah, you guessed it. Before he could finish the inevitable “timbers” comment, I pushed him over and onto his backside in the sand. He lay there for a few minutes, laughing at me. Rotten smiling bastard.
(Trust me, as a pirate girl, I’ve heard them all… “swab my deck” “polish my turret”… For the love of Carlos, if you can’t be original, than just shut the hell up, would you? *sigh*)
Within 20 minutes, we were in the sub. Cozily packed in… that is, if by cozy you mean, the three of us were closer to one another than I’ve been to anyone since I got divorced. I think I still have the imprint of Andrew’s elbow in my ribs… Or was that Shiro’s? (At least, I sure hope it was an elbow). The point is, it was impossible to move in there… or at least not without provoking even more snarky commentary from Congeniality, a la, “Hey, Queenie, feel free to just, wiggle around a little more...”
Stupid smartass pirate.
I would’ve given anything for my multitool.
Needless to say, the sub could definitely move. Shiro plotted a course, and I got to steer (Damn, that was fun), and we zipped through the waters off of southern NH and straight to my little hidden cove.
We popped to the surface with a splash, in exactly the same way that a rock wouldn't, and it was the work of minutes for me to extricate myself from the sub, and swim as fast as I could to the side of my baby, shouting, “Ahoy there!” all the way.
Cosgrove and McMann lowered a rope to me, and I was hoisted up the side, to the sounds of cheering.
Still… What I found after the obligatory back-slapping and bear-hugging was disturbing.
One of my crew was not involved in the celebration. In fact, she was barely conscious.
It was “Iron” Morgan Kidd. Although she’d joined the crew just a few months earlier, she had distinguished herself with me by being both blood-thirsty and creative. She no longer looked blood-thirsty… Just… well, thirsty.
The Quartermaster rushed to explain.
“Lady, after making port in the harbor, we had all gone to hammock, when the man on deck saw a light. He was still for a few moments, and then heard the sound of Windows XP starting up. On further inspection, he realized that it was Morgan. She had smuggled a laptop aboard, installed a wireless router, and was sending Facebook messages to her cohorts, one of whom is Shiruken. She was just in process of revealing our hidden location, when McMann clubbed her over the head, and slammed the laptop shut.
We were waiting for your return in order to pass judgement on her behavior.”
For an instant, as I looked at Morgan’s wretched face, I felt an unbelievable sorrow rise up within me. Although I had suspected that there was indeed a ninja in our midst… Even someone with a soul as dark as mine can hope.
I crushed and shredded that hope like a wood chipper crushes the bones and sinews of traitorous mobsters.
I said, “Leave her for now… And bring me the laptop… I have some messages to send.”
Cosgrove raised his hand, and when I nodded to him he asked,
“What will we do tomorrow?”
Laughing, I made my usual reply…
“The same thing we do everyday, Brain… Take over the world.”
Then the Quartermaster passed me that traitor’s Toshiba… I opened it and began to type.
The prospect of mayhem filled me with the same giddy joy a Girl Scout must feel when she crushes the opposition by selling 1,000 boxes of poisoned cookies to a charitable organization. Those Girl Scouts are second only to the ninjas on the Pirate Association's "Most Wanted Dead" List.
Still... Cookies... Mmmm. Now back to the story.
Anyway, though the sprint seemed to take only minutes, by the time Shiro had stopped in a small cavern, I was dripping with saltwater... unfortunately, it wasn't cool and refreshing Atlantic seawater, it was my own sweat. It was running into my eyes. Ick.
As much as I would like to believe that this was a devastatingly sexy look on me… I tend to doubt it. I mean, the fact is… other women “glow” when they work out… I on the other hand… Don’t. Seriously, it would take either true love, horniness on an Epic scale, or a serious vision impairment for any man to not run, shuddering, away from me when I’ve been running/rollerblading/hiking/etc.
When it comes to being glamorous and sexy, I’m a total Fail.
But, I digress.
This smaller cavern was still dark, dank, and unwelcoming, but it had a distinct advantage over the previous one, because it was stuffed chock full of submersible goodness. Oh yeah… before me in the water sat a lovely little submarine. Although I should probably have been thinking about how great it would be to get back to the Unvanquished, what I mostly thought was,
“Oooh… Shiny!”
My second thought was something like,
“I wonder how fast I can get it to top speed? I mean, I don’t have a license or anything… but how hard could it be to drive? It looks like a Volkswagen Bug for otters. Sweet… I wonder if it’s a standard or an automatic?”
At this point, Congeniality stumbled out of the passageway and into the cavern as well.
I growled.
“Hey Shiro,” I said, “I don’t suppose you have something Mr. Congeniality can wear do you? Every time I look at him my Twinkie threatens to leave my guts in an unpleasantly projectile-esque manner.”
For a second Shiro looked lost, and then realized I was referring to his brother. He snorted with laughter before reaching into what looked like an empty oil drum and pulling out some pants and a shirt and tossing them over. He added, “Congeniality… That’s good. Actually, his name is Andrew, but we generally refer to him as “Billie D” since he’s hoping that someday he’ll actually be smooth with the ladies.”
Congeniality, aka “Andrew” grunted as he pulled on jeans. “You’re just jealous. Look how much Queenie likes me already. Hey, Your Majesty, want to shiver my---“
Yeah, you guessed it. Before he could finish the inevitable “timbers” comment, I pushed him over and onto his backside in the sand. He lay there for a few minutes, laughing at me. Rotten smiling bastard.
(Trust me, as a pirate girl, I’ve heard them all… “swab my deck” “polish my turret”… For the love of Carlos, if you can’t be original, than just shut the hell up, would you? *sigh*)
Within 20 minutes, we were in the sub. Cozily packed in… that is, if by cozy you mean, the three of us were closer to one another than I’ve been to anyone since I got divorced. I think I still have the imprint of Andrew’s elbow in my ribs… Or was that Shiro’s? (At least, I sure hope it was an elbow). The point is, it was impossible to move in there… or at least not without provoking even more snarky commentary from Congeniality, a la, “Hey, Queenie, feel free to just, wiggle around a little more...”
Stupid smartass pirate.
I would’ve given anything for my multitool.
Needless to say, the sub could definitely move. Shiro plotted a course, and I got to steer (Damn, that was fun), and we zipped through the waters off of southern NH and straight to my little hidden cove.
We popped to the surface with a splash, in exactly the same way that a rock wouldn't, and it was the work of minutes for me to extricate myself from the sub, and swim as fast as I could to the side of my baby, shouting, “Ahoy there!” all the way.
Cosgrove and McMann lowered a rope to me, and I was hoisted up the side, to the sounds of cheering.
Still… What I found after the obligatory back-slapping and bear-hugging was disturbing.
One of my crew was not involved in the celebration. In fact, she was barely conscious.
It was “Iron” Morgan Kidd. Although she’d joined the crew just a few months earlier, she had distinguished herself with me by being both blood-thirsty and creative. She no longer looked blood-thirsty… Just… well, thirsty.
The Quartermaster rushed to explain.
“Lady, after making port in the harbor, we had all gone to hammock, when the man on deck saw a light. He was still for a few moments, and then heard the sound of Windows XP starting up. On further inspection, he realized that it was Morgan. She had smuggled a laptop aboard, installed a wireless router, and was sending Facebook messages to her cohorts, one of whom is Shiruken. She was just in process of revealing our hidden location, when McMann clubbed her over the head, and slammed the laptop shut.
We were waiting for your return in order to pass judgement on her behavior.”
For an instant, as I looked at Morgan’s wretched face, I felt an unbelievable sorrow rise up within me. Although I had suspected that there was indeed a ninja in our midst… Even someone with a soul as dark as mine can hope.
I crushed and shredded that hope like a wood chipper crushes the bones and sinews of traitorous mobsters.
I said, “Leave her for now… And bring me the laptop… I have some messages to send.”
Cosgrove raised his hand, and when I nodded to him he asked,
“What will we do tomorrow?”
Laughing, I made my usual reply…
“The same thing we do everyday, Brain… Take over the world.”
Then the Quartermaster passed me that traitor’s Toshiba… I opened it and began to type.
Introverts Unite! (And Other Paradoxes)
I have a question for you... yes, you. Have you ever met someone, and liked (or disliked) them right away for no good reason that you can think of?
Second question. How often did it turn out that your first instinct was right?
This has happened to me several times in my life. I know, I know... perhaps it's all just subconscious. Perhaps something in my brain reminds me of something about the person I have just met and relates that person back to someone else I once knew. Yeah, I'm sure that the scientists amongst you would espouse that view.
Personally, I often wonder if it's more than that. Being a Buddhist, I tend to think that it's more about souls... There is a school of thought that suggests that souls actually travel in packs, and that when you meet someone who you instinctively have strong feelings about it is a result of having known them before... Sure, it sounds crazy, unlikely, and made up...
That's probably why I like it so much.
Anyway, I guess my point there is that when I meet someone who effects me that way... I have stopped ignoring it. If I like you immediately... I act. If I despise you immediately... I put my head down and RUN the other way. Of course, if you're reading this right now, it's likely that you are in the first category. I can count on two hands the number of people I know who fit into the first category right now... and not so strangely, all of them happen to be friends with me on FB. (Of course, most of them have no idea that this is why I probably went way out of my way to acquaint myself with them... and that's the way I like it. I am nothing if not a woman of mystery).
You see... I find myself thinking about this sort of thing a lot. This is not unusual because I tend to make a habit of thinking entirely too much. That's probably the very reason that I spend what other people seem to think is way too much time alone.
What can I say? I'm not really a "large gathering" type of person. While I do enjoy being around other people... Once they start socializing, I usually find myself on the periphery, wandering about, amusing myself by touching things, tapping, pacing, or finding an excuse to run out to the store for something.
Yes, friends and neighbors... I know you'll be shocked to hear this... But regardless of the fact that I basically TALK for a living... I am an introvert.
I am just as happy to be sitting alone in my room playing computer games as I am to be out in public with a large group of people.
Actually, that's not exactly true. I would be even happier if I were sitting in my room with say... one or perhaps two other people, and playing video games, etc. Frankly, I'm a hell of a lot more fun and interesting one on one than I am in a group... Unless the group is made up of people that I've known for a hell of a long time (say, family, or The Shepherds, for instance).
But seriously... in a group of say... 5 or 6... I mostly just disappear.
I get very quiet, because I just don't feel like I have a whole lot to say. I don't want to bore or annoy anyone, so I basically just shut the hell up.
On the up side... When driving long distances, I make an excellent travel companion. I seem to find limitless subjects to spazz out about, but I'm also not at all bothered by silence.
Trust me... Sometimes, silence can be your friend.
I'm boggled by people who feel the need to talk ALL THE FUCKING TIME. What's so wrong with just... Chillin'? (So to speak...ha ha).
So in the end... I guess this ramble didn't really have a point or anything... Like I said, sometimes stuff just goes through my head, runs down my neck, into my shoulders, courses down my arms and comes out through the fingertips in the form of typing. It's like a consciousness waterfall.
You, my friend, just happen to be the ocean where it ends up... Sorry.
Just sayin'.
Anyway, I guess what I'm saying is... You should know, that if you're on here... and I was the one who added you... It's entirely possible that I think we have known each other before. Of course... I'll never admit it. It's part of my charm.
Now think on THAT for a while.
Your friend,
V the PQ
Second question. How often did it turn out that your first instinct was right?
This has happened to me several times in my life. I know, I know... perhaps it's all just subconscious. Perhaps something in my brain reminds me of something about the person I have just met and relates that person back to someone else I once knew. Yeah, I'm sure that the scientists amongst you would espouse that view.
Personally, I often wonder if it's more than that. Being a Buddhist, I tend to think that it's more about souls... There is a school of thought that suggests that souls actually travel in packs, and that when you meet someone who you instinctively have strong feelings about it is a result of having known them before... Sure, it sounds crazy, unlikely, and made up...
That's probably why I like it so much.
Anyway, I guess my point there is that when I meet someone who effects me that way... I have stopped ignoring it. If I like you immediately... I act. If I despise you immediately... I put my head down and RUN the other way. Of course, if you're reading this right now, it's likely that you are in the first category. I can count on two hands the number of people I know who fit into the first category right now... and not so strangely, all of them happen to be friends with me on FB. (Of course, most of them have no idea that this is why I probably went way out of my way to acquaint myself with them... and that's the way I like it. I am nothing if not a woman of mystery).
You see... I find myself thinking about this sort of thing a lot. This is not unusual because I tend to make a habit of thinking entirely too much. That's probably the very reason that I spend what other people seem to think is way too much time alone.
What can I say? I'm not really a "large gathering" type of person. While I do enjoy being around other people... Once they start socializing, I usually find myself on the periphery, wandering about, amusing myself by touching things, tapping, pacing, or finding an excuse to run out to the store for something.
Yes, friends and neighbors... I know you'll be shocked to hear this... But regardless of the fact that I basically TALK for a living... I am an introvert.
I am just as happy to be sitting alone in my room playing computer games as I am to be out in public with a large group of people.
Actually, that's not exactly true. I would be even happier if I were sitting in my room with say... one or perhaps two other people, and playing video games, etc. Frankly, I'm a hell of a lot more fun and interesting one on one than I am in a group... Unless the group is made up of people that I've known for a hell of a long time (say, family, or The Shepherds, for instance).
But seriously... in a group of say... 5 or 6... I mostly just disappear.
I get very quiet, because I just don't feel like I have a whole lot to say. I don't want to bore or annoy anyone, so I basically just shut the hell up.
On the up side... When driving long distances, I make an excellent travel companion. I seem to find limitless subjects to spazz out about, but I'm also not at all bothered by silence.
Trust me... Sometimes, silence can be your friend.
I'm boggled by people who feel the need to talk ALL THE FUCKING TIME. What's so wrong with just... Chillin'? (So to speak...ha ha).
So in the end... I guess this ramble didn't really have a point or anything... Like I said, sometimes stuff just goes through my head, runs down my neck, into my shoulders, courses down my arms and comes out through the fingertips in the form of typing. It's like a consciousness waterfall.
You, my friend, just happen to be the ocean where it ends up... Sorry.
Just sayin'.
Anyway, I guess what I'm saying is... You should know, that if you're on here... and I was the one who added you... It's entirely possible that I think we have known each other before. Of course... I'll never admit it. It's part of my charm.
Now think on THAT for a while.
Your friend,
V the PQ
Monday, July 5, 2010
Shiro's Tale, Or, I Have a Weakness for Men Who Cry
When I finally summoned the uterine fortitude it required to once again lift myself so that I would be perpendicular instead of parallel to the ground, I found that my fury had scarcely been abated.
I demanded that Shiro explain what in the purple fuzzy dice was going on.
What follows is the story he told me:
“Well, Your Highness… A few days after your daring rescue from my pursuers in Concord, I managed to make contact with a few like-minded individuals in my… organization, if you will.”
“You see… Our leader, the Great and Terrible Shiruken has recently become a bit erratic. Though he’s always been a horrible leader, until now he has ensured the continuation of our clan by selling our services to the highest bidder. Also, he has maintained the honor of our band from all comers. Our clan has the highest reputation among the assassins’ guilds. Our speed and secrecy knows no b—
At this point I interrupted Shiro’s narrative flow by saying, “Come on Shiro… Will you get to the story part of this story already? I know how big and bad you ninjas all think you are, blah, blah, duty, blah, blah, blah, family honor. I get it! Now please… Continue.”
He lowered his brows and took a page from my book by growling. After a short pause and a staring contest with me, he gave up and resumed his narrative.
“The point is, he recently engaged us in some jobs that were exceedingly lucrative. Unfortunately, doing these jobs caused us to lose face before the other guilds… Shiruken was advised by his most trusted allies and family members that he should under no circumstances take these jobs… But he failed to heed any advice, and signed several contracts with--- Oh Spirits of Kamigawa--- I can’t even speak the name---“
At this point he interrupted his own narrative by… Oh Holy Mother of Carlos… SOBBING. His narrow black clad shoulders shook, tears poured down his pock-marked face, and his eyes, which had been the caramel color of cream soda, turned the muddy, hopeless brown of contaminated pond scum.
At that moment, if the two of us had an Awkward-Off, he would have beaten me like a rented Kia.
If there is one thing that never fails to melt my cold, cold heart… It’s a crying man. No, seriously. It’s one of my few soft and weak spots.
Of course, having my deeply frozen heart melted under any circumstances really pisses me off. Do you have any idea how much liquid nitrogen costs these days? Well, let me just tell you… It ain’t cheap my friends. It would take me weeks to earn enough money to re-freeze my heart.
Plus, it really friggin’ hurts.
I hauled off and whacked Shiro on the back of the head. Like a stuttering engine or a skipping Girl Scout, he coughed and then came back to some semblance of his former ninja self.
I was incredibly relived. The emotion caught in the back of my throat returned to my stomach, like a burp that never saw the light of a high school cafeteria. However, not wanting him to know how greatly his tears had affected me, I growled and said, “For the love of Carlos, Shiro… spare me the Jerry Springer family shit.”
He gulped, took a few deep breaths to center himself, and spat out the most dreaded name in all the lands and upon all the seas of this tiny, blue-green planet.
“Shiruken signed seven contracts with---The College Board.”
I drew my breath in with a sharp hiss.
“NO!!” I shouted. “How could he? With the ninjas on the College Board’s side in the coming battle against standardized testing… The company may be---”
“Unstoppable.” Groaned Shiro in a deep and totally hopeless baritone.
I leaped to my feet, shoved Mr. Congeniality’s head off my lap (where he’d made himself quite at home I must say…grr), and grabbed Shiro by the oxygen tank.
“We have to get out of here now! I don’t have time for anymore of your Sally-Girl whining! The forces of Standardized Testing must not be allowed to reign over the face of the earth!
“I would rather have dinner and drinks with a family of rabid squirrels! I’d rather have a pool party with zombies! Why, I’d rather hang out with Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan in a cabin in the Ozarks, discussing geo-politics!
“Hell, I’d even rather return to my former Saltmine for a rousing afternoon of chit-chat, poisoned Kool-aid, and stale granola bars with the Super-horrible-intendent, Sammy Davis Jr. herself!”
I pulled Shiro to his feet, and punched him as hard as I could in the chest in order to get him motivated. This technique worked on him like a defibrillator on a heart patient. He seemed to wake from a dream-like trance, and his eyes focused on mine.
Once again, my arctic blue gaze met his. His back stiffened like someone had just shoved a frozen eel up his colon. He said, “This way!” turning on his heel, he shot off into the darkness at the back of the cave, with only a failing glow-stick to light the way.
I followed. Every footstep felt like it could be taking me closer to doom. My guts roiled like spoiling venison by the side of I-93.
And then I felt Congeniality following along in my wake. I smiled a mischievous grin, and gave a small snort of laughter, way down deep in my throat.
I slowed down just enough to let him catch up with me, and then I stuck my foot out, tripping him up and sending him rolling into a low boulder sticking up from the ground.
I’m not usually so petty… But torturing that smiling bastard just a little bit brought the spring back into my step, and a smidgen of hope into my desolate soul.
“Damn you, College Board! You’ll taste the bitter flavor of my poison-covered multi-tool this very night, by Carlos!!” I shouted into the darkness.
(There’s a story there… Can you tell?)
I raced on, into the cave depths and toward a conclusion…
Perhaps.
I demanded that Shiro explain what in the purple fuzzy dice was going on.
What follows is the story he told me:
“Well, Your Highness… A few days after your daring rescue from my pursuers in Concord, I managed to make contact with a few like-minded individuals in my… organization, if you will.”
“You see… Our leader, the Great and Terrible Shiruken has recently become a bit erratic. Though he’s always been a horrible leader, until now he has ensured the continuation of our clan by selling our services to the highest bidder. Also, he has maintained the honor of our band from all comers. Our clan has the highest reputation among the assassins’ guilds. Our speed and secrecy knows no b—
At this point I interrupted Shiro’s narrative flow by saying, “Come on Shiro… Will you get to the story part of this story already? I know how big and bad you ninjas all think you are, blah, blah, duty, blah, blah, blah, family honor. I get it! Now please… Continue.”
He lowered his brows and took a page from my book by growling. After a short pause and a staring contest with me, he gave up and resumed his narrative.
“The point is, he recently engaged us in some jobs that were exceedingly lucrative. Unfortunately, doing these jobs caused us to lose face before the other guilds… Shiruken was advised by his most trusted allies and family members that he should under no circumstances take these jobs… But he failed to heed any advice, and signed several contracts with--- Oh Spirits of Kamigawa--- I can’t even speak the name---“
At this point he interrupted his own narrative by… Oh Holy Mother of Carlos… SOBBING. His narrow black clad shoulders shook, tears poured down his pock-marked face, and his eyes, which had been the caramel color of cream soda, turned the muddy, hopeless brown of contaminated pond scum.
At that moment, if the two of us had an Awkward-Off, he would have beaten me like a rented Kia.
If there is one thing that never fails to melt my cold, cold heart… It’s a crying man. No, seriously. It’s one of my few soft and weak spots.
Of course, having my deeply frozen heart melted under any circumstances really pisses me off. Do you have any idea how much liquid nitrogen costs these days? Well, let me just tell you… It ain’t cheap my friends. It would take me weeks to earn enough money to re-freeze my heart.
Plus, it really friggin’ hurts.
I hauled off and whacked Shiro on the back of the head. Like a stuttering engine or a skipping Girl Scout, he coughed and then came back to some semblance of his former ninja self.
I was incredibly relived. The emotion caught in the back of my throat returned to my stomach, like a burp that never saw the light of a high school cafeteria. However, not wanting him to know how greatly his tears had affected me, I growled and said, “For the love of Carlos, Shiro… spare me the Jerry Springer family shit.”
He gulped, took a few deep breaths to center himself, and spat out the most dreaded name in all the lands and upon all the seas of this tiny, blue-green planet.
“Shiruken signed seven contracts with---The College Board.”
I drew my breath in with a sharp hiss.
“NO!!” I shouted. “How could he? With the ninjas on the College Board’s side in the coming battle against standardized testing… The company may be---”
“Unstoppable.” Groaned Shiro in a deep and totally hopeless baritone.
I leaped to my feet, shoved Mr. Congeniality’s head off my lap (where he’d made himself quite at home I must say…grr), and grabbed Shiro by the oxygen tank.
“We have to get out of here now! I don’t have time for anymore of your Sally-Girl whining! The forces of Standardized Testing must not be allowed to reign over the face of the earth!
“I would rather have dinner and drinks with a family of rabid squirrels! I’d rather have a pool party with zombies! Why, I’d rather hang out with Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan in a cabin in the Ozarks, discussing geo-politics!
“Hell, I’d even rather return to my former Saltmine for a rousing afternoon of chit-chat, poisoned Kool-aid, and stale granola bars with the Super-horrible-intendent, Sammy Davis Jr. herself!”
I pulled Shiro to his feet, and punched him as hard as I could in the chest in order to get him motivated. This technique worked on him like a defibrillator on a heart patient. He seemed to wake from a dream-like trance, and his eyes focused on mine.
Once again, my arctic blue gaze met his. His back stiffened like someone had just shoved a frozen eel up his colon. He said, “This way!” turning on his heel, he shot off into the darkness at the back of the cave, with only a failing glow-stick to light the way.
I followed. Every footstep felt like it could be taking me closer to doom. My guts roiled like spoiling venison by the side of I-93.
And then I felt Congeniality following along in my wake. I smiled a mischievous grin, and gave a small snort of laughter, way down deep in my throat.
I slowed down just enough to let him catch up with me, and then I stuck my foot out, tripping him up and sending him rolling into a low boulder sticking up from the ground.
I’m not usually so petty… But torturing that smiling bastard just a little bit brought the spring back into my step, and a smidgen of hope into my desolate soul.
“Damn you, College Board! You’ll taste the bitter flavor of my poison-covered multi-tool this very night, by Carlos!!” I shouted into the darkness.
(There’s a story there… Can you tell?)
I raced on, into the cave depths and toward a conclusion…
Perhaps.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
The Unvanquished
... So naturally, most of what I am about to describe here took place after I had plunged off the side of my ship and into the briny depths. Suffice to say, since I have limited psychic powers, I happen to know everything that occurred in my absence.
Oh, just go with it.
Moments after I and Congeniality splashed over the side, the ninja captain wiped away a few tears of joy, and sent the order to begin the wholesale massacre of my men. (That lying, trecherous, scum... I knew he would go back on his word). The Quartermaster, Boatswain, and a few others were to be included in the first round of executions.
Thank Carlos, there was something the ninja captain didn't know about my people.
Of course he realized that they were loyal to a fault... What he failed to understand was just how much my apparent death would galvanize them into action. Far from taking the wind out of their sails, his behavior put renewed powder in their cannons.
"Brisket" Cosgrove was the first to make a move. As soon as I tumbled off the plank and splashed down amongst the sharks, he let out a yell of such fury and ferocity, that the unprepared ninja guarding his flank lowered his sword for an instant.
This, he should not have done.
Cosgrove shoved up from his knees and drove himself headfirst into the poorly prepped villain's defenseless middle. By the time he had fallen over backward, the rest of my furious crew let out shouts of fury and anguish easily as terrifying as his.
Every where on deck, a pitched and terrible battle was renewed. My crew, armed only with makeshift weapons gathered from the supplies at hand, pulled no punches.
In fact... They fought dirtier than a tanked Lindsey Lohan at a pool party.
The quarter master grabbed a fork directly out of the hand of a ninja crew member who was eating the last of my precious ration of cheesecake, and stabbed him at least three times while yelling, "NO ONE touches the Queen's cheesecake, thou black, heathen, rump-fed, ronion!!" (Each insult was punctuated by a stab of the eating utensil).
That sleazy bastard's crew, even though they outnumbered my men three to one, were taken almost completely by surprise.
"Brisket," who was by this time leading the uprising, right along with the Quartermaster, directed the men to dump every last ninja over the side.
Meanwhile, the rest of the crew were running below, loading the guns with every implement of destruction they could find. Some of these included smoke bombs and hand-made grenades wrenched from the bodies of flailing and slack-jawed ninjas.
They managed to put holes in the side of the ninja sloop that made it look like a slab of blackened Swiss cheese... only much less tasty.
In 37 minutes, the battle was over, the ninja sloop was sinking into the waters of the Atlantic, and the evil men in black were being happily chomped upon by a number of sharks.
The crew took only a moment to breathe in relief at the rout of the villains before turning to the problem of their missing queen. Faces turned red with rage, and white with anguish.
A hush fell.
There was an extended moment of complete bafflement and hopelessness...
And then, one of the oldest members of the crew, a small but ferocious female crew member, spoke into the silence.
"She's still alive. I know it. We have to meet her in our secret port... She'll manage to get there somehow."
There were scattered grumbles, some of assent and some of disbelief.
Again, the Grrrl, (that was her name) spoke. "Come on... After all this, don't you think we'd know it if she was dead? Hasn't she come through worse than this?"
The Quartermaster let out a bellow of laughter, thumped Grrrl on the back and said, "Of course! Why, don't you men remember the time we found her in a meat locker, suspended over a vat of chicken parts and tied to a Laotian dental hygenist? She had managed to tie up the machinery meant to turn them into sausage with just a pair of toe-nail clippers and a buckle from one of her boots!"
Cosgrove chimed in, "Or the time when she used a Gila Monster's venom to bring down a rampaging hydra in east Keene? Who knew that you could use a Slurpee straw as a makeshift hypodermic?"
Grrrl added, "And how about when she had to escape from the car crusher when she was locked in the trunk of a Dodge Aries? She had nothing except an angry Pomeranian and a warm 12-pack of Diet Coke to help her... and she still made it out! Ye gods... Do you remember the explosion?"
There was a moment of silence followed by deliriously joyful shouting.
There was still hope.
Most assuredly... The Queen must still be alive.
"ALL HANDS ON DECK!" Shouted Cosgrove.
The Unvanquished, limping, but by no means down for the count, sailed meekly across the water road toward the safety of her hidden port. There, she would be repaired and await the return of the queen.
If you could have heard the silent prayers in the hearts of the crew, it would have brought a tear even to your jaded eye...
The only words spoken for the rest of the night were the ones that breathed out, unheard by anyone except the gulls in the bay.
"Kick some ass, Pirate Queen... And please, make it fast."
Oh, just go with it.
Moments after I and Congeniality splashed over the side, the ninja captain wiped away a few tears of joy, and sent the order to begin the wholesale massacre of my men. (That lying, trecherous, scum... I knew he would go back on his word). The Quartermaster, Boatswain, and a few others were to be included in the first round of executions.
Thank Carlos, there was something the ninja captain didn't know about my people.
Of course he realized that they were loyal to a fault... What he failed to understand was just how much my apparent death would galvanize them into action. Far from taking the wind out of their sails, his behavior put renewed powder in their cannons.
"Brisket" Cosgrove was the first to make a move. As soon as I tumbled off the plank and splashed down amongst the sharks, he let out a yell of such fury and ferocity, that the unprepared ninja guarding his flank lowered his sword for an instant.
This, he should not have done.
Cosgrove shoved up from his knees and drove himself headfirst into the poorly prepped villain's defenseless middle. By the time he had fallen over backward, the rest of my furious crew let out shouts of fury and anguish easily as terrifying as his.
Every where on deck, a pitched and terrible battle was renewed. My crew, armed only with makeshift weapons gathered from the supplies at hand, pulled no punches.
In fact... They fought dirtier than a tanked Lindsey Lohan at a pool party.
The quarter master grabbed a fork directly out of the hand of a ninja crew member who was eating the last of my precious ration of cheesecake, and stabbed him at least three times while yelling, "NO ONE touches the Queen's cheesecake, thou black, heathen, rump-fed, ronion!!" (Each insult was punctuated by a stab of the eating utensil).
That sleazy bastard's crew, even though they outnumbered my men three to one, were taken almost completely by surprise.
"Brisket," who was by this time leading the uprising, right along with the Quartermaster, directed the men to dump every last ninja over the side.
Meanwhile, the rest of the crew were running below, loading the guns with every implement of destruction they could find. Some of these included smoke bombs and hand-made grenades wrenched from the bodies of flailing and slack-jawed ninjas.
They managed to put holes in the side of the ninja sloop that made it look like a slab of blackened Swiss cheese... only much less tasty.
In 37 minutes, the battle was over, the ninja sloop was sinking into the waters of the Atlantic, and the evil men in black were being happily chomped upon by a number of sharks.
The crew took only a moment to breathe in relief at the rout of the villains before turning to the problem of their missing queen. Faces turned red with rage, and white with anguish.
A hush fell.
There was an extended moment of complete bafflement and hopelessness...
And then, one of the oldest members of the crew, a small but ferocious female crew member, spoke into the silence.
"She's still alive. I know it. We have to meet her in our secret port... She'll manage to get there somehow."
There were scattered grumbles, some of assent and some of disbelief.
Again, the Grrrl, (that was her name) spoke. "Come on... After all this, don't you think we'd know it if she was dead? Hasn't she come through worse than this?"
The Quartermaster let out a bellow of laughter, thumped Grrrl on the back and said, "Of course! Why, don't you men remember the time we found her in a meat locker, suspended over a vat of chicken parts and tied to a Laotian dental hygenist? She had managed to tie up the machinery meant to turn them into sausage with just a pair of toe-nail clippers and a buckle from one of her boots!"
Cosgrove chimed in, "Or the time when she used a Gila Monster's venom to bring down a rampaging hydra in east Keene? Who knew that you could use a Slurpee straw as a makeshift hypodermic?"
Grrrl added, "And how about when she had to escape from the car crusher when she was locked in the trunk of a Dodge Aries? She had nothing except an angry Pomeranian and a warm 12-pack of Diet Coke to help her... and she still made it out! Ye gods... Do you remember the explosion?"
There was a moment of silence followed by deliriously joyful shouting.
There was still hope.
Most assuredly... The Queen must still be alive.
"ALL HANDS ON DECK!" Shouted Cosgrove.
The Unvanquished, limping, but by no means down for the count, sailed meekly across the water road toward the safety of her hidden port. There, she would be repaired and await the return of the queen.
If you could have heard the silent prayers in the hearts of the crew, it would have brought a tear even to your jaded eye...
The only words spoken for the rest of the night were the ones that breathed out, unheard by anyone except the gulls in the bay.
"Kick some ass, Pirate Queen... And please, make it fast."
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
The Eternal Twinkie vs. Sno-Ball Debate, Or The Pirate Queen Sends Herself to Time-Out
...As Mr. Congeniality lay moaning in the shallows, Scuba Steve and I hunkered down on the sand in the back of the cave. I was shivering as he removed something from his belt that looked like a watertight fanny pack. He handed it to me, and I opened it to discover a tube of Neosporin and some other basic first aid materials.
Then he finally removed his goggles.
I scowled at him... There was something familiar about the shape of his face, and I never forget a face.
I tend to remember faces especially well when they are the faces of mysterious ninjas that I've helped while patrolling Concord, NH in the dead of night.
Oh, that's right children... Those shifty eyes, that rat-like face, the black cowl...
It was Shiro Linh.
*sigh*
Just what I needed... More Carlos-damned ninjas. Well, that's just fan-frickin'-tabulous.
You know... At any other time in my life I would probably have had some sort of reaction to such an unveiling...
But at that moment?
I had nothin'. I merely stared.
Actually... There might have been a need for me to wipe some Forest Gump style drool off my chin.
He dug into another pouch, and removed some snacks.
I swear to Carlos, this guy was like the Scuba/Ninja Mary Poppins or something. I wondered if he would pull a nuclear submarine out of a hidden pocket next.
He paused, then looked more closely at the snacks laid on the sand in front of him. Lying there, looking innocent and virtuous in their pristine packaging were:
1. A granola bar (oats and honey)
2. A protein bar (cookie dough flavor)
3. A package of Hostess Sno-Balls
AND (Carlos be praised!)
4. A lone Twinkie.
Before you could say, "Hey, gimme that!" I snagged the Twinkie and nearly ate most of the wrapper along with the sugary, spongy, cream filled treat. Mmmm... cream filling... yum.
I'm not sure that I actually chewed.
Shiro goggled at me momentarily before stating, "Well, if Twinkies are what you live on, it's no wonder you've lost your ship."
I hissed in his face and scowled at him. But then added, "Gee, thanks for the fortune cookie statement, Confucius. If you have a Red Bull somewhere on you I'll forgive you for that remark, otherwise, prepare to die."
Before I could move to put my hands around his throat, the Magical Elixir appeared in my hand as if it had been delivered by the archangel Gabriel himself.
I gripped the slender cylinder and admired it as though it were the idol from Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Arc. In fact, I could almost hear a heavenly chorus singing "Light My Fire" as I popped the can open and began to drink.
In my opinion, they could have benefited from a few more guitars and fewer harps... But that's just me.
When I finished, I placed the empty can gently on the sand next to me and gave it a little pat. Then I looked closely at Shiro, and asked him for the only information that is ever really necessary for one person to know about another...
"Shiro... Have you ever killed anyone in a knife fight?"
He raised an eyebrow.
I continued, "No, seriously. Have you?"
He munched on a mouthful of granola (ick... that stuff will kill you faster than... well, a shark).
"Not as far as I know... Though there was that one time... at Band Camp."
I laughed so hard I nearly regurgitated my Hostess Treat.
At last... Someone who understands me.
Too bad he's a damn ninja. I may have to kill him at some point in the future. Oh well, I suppose we can't have it all, can we?
Naturally this was when Mr. Congeniality finally pulled himself up on the sand, and sat next to me. Of course, when I say "sat" what I really mean is that he collapsed, and then fell over. He had landed entirely too close to me, totally "popping my bubble" as Saltmine inmates might say.
Before I could move away, or shove him to a safe distance, he reached across me and grabbed the Sno-Ball snack.
I snorted in derision... Of COURSE, he would like that one. After digging in, he moved so that he was laying down, put his head on my thigh and said, "When you two are done with girl talk, can you wake me up so we can start planning? Thanks, that'd be greeeat." He then appeared to drop instantly into a sound sleep.
I was just a tid bit miffed.
Okay, that's a lie. I felt a desire to perform acts of violence upon that smiling bastard more strongly than I ever had before... It was a new personal best.
I stiffened, and then grabbed for the hair on the back of his head in my left fist in preparation for an enormously pleasing "Sand-wash."
Just before I could rub his nose in the dirt, Shiro put a hand on my arm and said,
"Please Your Highness, I know he is extremely annoying to you, but I would take it as a personal favor if you did not abuse my brother any more... Right now anyway. When you get your ship back, please feel free to torment him at your leisure, but we might need him soon. Sand in the eyes could throw off his aim."
I experienced a complete brain bottleneck. You know that feeling, when you have so many possible questions and or comments in your head all at once that they get stopped up and you just can't seem to make any of them come out?
Well, that was me.
Comment Overload Girl.
I stared down at the back of Congeniality's head (he, I should add, had seemed to completely sleep through the homicidal impulse I had aimed at him, and was now making a sound that was midway between a snore and a growl), and then looked sharply at Shiro.
W. Tha. F.
"Brother? Brother? What?" I sputtered and foamed like a mad dog on a dirt road.
My overloaded brain just couldn't seem to handle this conversation... So I yowled a barbaric "GAAAAH!" at the top of my lungs and pounded the sand with the hand not holding my empty and slightly sticky Twinkie wrapper.
Let it never be said that I'm not a sparkling conversationalist.
Then I just kind of fell backwards to lie in the sand for a while. I had a somewhat muddy idea that I would wake up and be back on board the Unvanquished. Yeah right.
I tend to believe that my brain decided to take up my teacher persona without my permission...
It assigned me to a Time Out.
Friggin' know-it-all teachers.
Who the hell likes them anyway?
Then he finally removed his goggles.
I scowled at him... There was something familiar about the shape of his face, and I never forget a face.
I tend to remember faces especially well when they are the faces of mysterious ninjas that I've helped while patrolling Concord, NH in the dead of night.
Oh, that's right children... Those shifty eyes, that rat-like face, the black cowl...
It was Shiro Linh.
*sigh*
Just what I needed... More Carlos-damned ninjas. Well, that's just fan-frickin'-tabulous.
You know... At any other time in my life I would probably have had some sort of reaction to such an unveiling...
But at that moment?
I had nothin'. I merely stared.
Actually... There might have been a need for me to wipe some Forest Gump style drool off my chin.
He dug into another pouch, and removed some snacks.
I swear to Carlos, this guy was like the Scuba/Ninja Mary Poppins or something. I wondered if he would pull a nuclear submarine out of a hidden pocket next.
He paused, then looked more closely at the snacks laid on the sand in front of him. Lying there, looking innocent and virtuous in their pristine packaging were:
1. A granola bar (oats and honey)
2. A protein bar (cookie dough flavor)
3. A package of Hostess Sno-Balls
AND (Carlos be praised!)
4. A lone Twinkie.
Before you could say, "Hey, gimme that!" I snagged the Twinkie and nearly ate most of the wrapper along with the sugary, spongy, cream filled treat. Mmmm... cream filling... yum.
I'm not sure that I actually chewed.
Shiro goggled at me momentarily before stating, "Well, if Twinkies are what you live on, it's no wonder you've lost your ship."
I hissed in his face and scowled at him. But then added, "Gee, thanks for the fortune cookie statement, Confucius. If you have a Red Bull somewhere on you I'll forgive you for that remark, otherwise, prepare to die."
Before I could move to put my hands around his throat, the Magical Elixir appeared in my hand as if it had been delivered by the archangel Gabriel himself.
I gripped the slender cylinder and admired it as though it were the idol from Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Arc. In fact, I could almost hear a heavenly chorus singing "Light My Fire" as I popped the can open and began to drink.
In my opinion, they could have benefited from a few more guitars and fewer harps... But that's just me.
When I finished, I placed the empty can gently on the sand next to me and gave it a little pat. Then I looked closely at Shiro, and asked him for the only information that is ever really necessary for one person to know about another...
"Shiro... Have you ever killed anyone in a knife fight?"
He raised an eyebrow.
I continued, "No, seriously. Have you?"
He munched on a mouthful of granola (ick... that stuff will kill you faster than... well, a shark).
"Not as far as I know... Though there was that one time... at Band Camp."
I laughed so hard I nearly regurgitated my Hostess Treat.
At last... Someone who understands me.
Too bad he's a damn ninja. I may have to kill him at some point in the future. Oh well, I suppose we can't have it all, can we?
Naturally this was when Mr. Congeniality finally pulled himself up on the sand, and sat next to me. Of course, when I say "sat" what I really mean is that he collapsed, and then fell over. He had landed entirely too close to me, totally "popping my bubble" as Saltmine inmates might say.
Before I could move away, or shove him to a safe distance, he reached across me and grabbed the Sno-Ball snack.
I snorted in derision... Of COURSE, he would like that one. After digging in, he moved so that he was laying down, put his head on my thigh and said, "When you two are done with girl talk, can you wake me up so we can start planning? Thanks, that'd be greeeat." He then appeared to drop instantly into a sound sleep.
I was just a tid bit miffed.
Okay, that's a lie. I felt a desire to perform acts of violence upon that smiling bastard more strongly than I ever had before... It was a new personal best.
I stiffened, and then grabbed for the hair on the back of his head in my left fist in preparation for an enormously pleasing "Sand-wash."
Just before I could rub his nose in the dirt, Shiro put a hand on my arm and said,
"Please Your Highness, I know he is extremely annoying to you, but I would take it as a personal favor if you did not abuse my brother any more... Right now anyway. When you get your ship back, please feel free to torment him at your leisure, but we might need him soon. Sand in the eyes could throw off his aim."
I experienced a complete brain bottleneck. You know that feeling, when you have so many possible questions and or comments in your head all at once that they get stopped up and you just can't seem to make any of them come out?
Well, that was me.
Comment Overload Girl.
I stared down at the back of Congeniality's head (he, I should add, had seemed to completely sleep through the homicidal impulse I had aimed at him, and was now making a sound that was midway between a snore and a growl), and then looked sharply at Shiro.
W. Tha. F.
"Brother? Brother? What?" I sputtered and foamed like a mad dog on a dirt road.
My overloaded brain just couldn't seem to handle this conversation... So I yowled a barbaric "GAAAAH!" at the top of my lungs and pounded the sand with the hand not holding my empty and slightly sticky Twinkie wrapper.
Let it never be said that I'm not a sparkling conversationalist.
Then I just kind of fell backwards to lie in the sand for a while. I had a somewhat muddy idea that I would wake up and be back on board the Unvanquished. Yeah right.
I tend to believe that my brain decided to take up my teacher persona without my permission...
It assigned me to a Time Out.
Friggin' know-it-all teachers.
Who the hell likes them anyway?
Monday, June 28, 2010
The Biography of the Pirate Queen
Excuse me, have we met?
Oh, I guess not... but your face did look a little familiar just then... Huh, that's weird.
Well, since we don't know each other, please let me introduce myself.
My name is Virginia, but since I like your face, you can call me Verge. Not Virg. VERGE...as in, "I'm on the Verge of doing something really f'in' crazy."
Let's see... What do you want to know?
Oh... Well, there really isn't that much to tell, but I'll give it my best shot.
I work in a Saltmine, and I try to make life bearable for the inmates.
I'm constantly battling ninjas, usually in the forms of standardized testing and people with no senses of humor or proportion.
Essentially, most of my life consists of doing these two things:
1. Telling stories
2. Picking up after people's messes, both literally and figuratively.
Since I work in a Saltmine I tend to be dirty, covered in germs, and exhausted.
I subsist most of the time on Redbull and hope.
I rollerblade in the dark, drive fast on dirt roads in the middle of nowhere at all hours of the night, and watch the sun come up from unlikely spots.
I like to pretend that superheroes could be real... I think I may have met one once.
I try to do my best, work hard, and I hope I'll make a difference in your life, now that we've met.
I laugh a lot.
I laugh as loud as I can.
I refuse to "grow up" or "take things seriously."
I think in haiku, and I meditate during long meetings.
I amuse myself by wearing name tags that say "Lola," "Bubbles," and "Trixie."
I'm always searching for the truth behind the lies that we all (myself included) seem to spout so easily.
I often refuse to sleep, because I don't want to miss anything good... or bad.
I hate milk.
I love cheesecake and white chocolate, and I watch football and basketball so I can yell at the screen.
If you come over here, I'll tell you a story... It's about some ninjas and a duck in White's Park.
I'll make you laugh if at all possible, sometimes at the most inappropriate imagery you'll ever hear. I used to have a sense of propriety, but I gave it up for Lent.
I'm not Catholic.
I was broken badly a few times, and I fixed myself... But I'm still not 100%.
I'm still hoping for a hero... but I'm losing my faith.
If you tell me what you need, I'll help.
If you smile when you see me, it'll make my day, and I'll do just about anything for you.
If you mess with me, I'll mess right back, but don't worry, I don't hit... Unless you're a redneck who picks on people weaker than you.
If possible, I'll save you... Or better yet, I'll help you save yourself.
Well, I guess that's all you need to know about me... See what I mean? I'm not all that interesting... I'm pretty much just like everyone else, but I keep hoping that someday I'll be as awesome as you are.
It's been nice talking with you... I hope you'll remember me when I'm gone, 'cause I could sail off into the sunset any day. And you never can tell when sharks, ninjas, or a bus with no brakes could strike.
Party like a rock star.
Just sayin'.
Namaste.
Oh, I guess not... but your face did look a little familiar just then... Huh, that's weird.
Well, since we don't know each other, please let me introduce myself.
My name is Virginia, but since I like your face, you can call me Verge. Not Virg. VERGE...as in, "I'm on the Verge of doing something really f'in' crazy."
Let's see... What do you want to know?
Oh... Well, there really isn't that much to tell, but I'll give it my best shot.
I work in a Saltmine, and I try to make life bearable for the inmates.
I'm constantly battling ninjas, usually in the forms of standardized testing and people with no senses of humor or proportion.
Essentially, most of my life consists of doing these two things:
1. Telling stories
2. Picking up after people's messes, both literally and figuratively.
Since I work in a Saltmine I tend to be dirty, covered in germs, and exhausted.
I subsist most of the time on Redbull and hope.
I rollerblade in the dark, drive fast on dirt roads in the middle of nowhere at all hours of the night, and watch the sun come up from unlikely spots.
I like to pretend that superheroes could be real... I think I may have met one once.
I try to do my best, work hard, and I hope I'll make a difference in your life, now that we've met.
I laugh a lot.
I laugh as loud as I can.
I refuse to "grow up" or "take things seriously."
I think in haiku, and I meditate during long meetings.
I amuse myself by wearing name tags that say "Lola," "Bubbles," and "Trixie."
I'm always searching for the truth behind the lies that we all (myself included) seem to spout so easily.
I often refuse to sleep, because I don't want to miss anything good... or bad.
I hate milk.
I love cheesecake and white chocolate, and I watch football and basketball so I can yell at the screen.
If you come over here, I'll tell you a story... It's about some ninjas and a duck in White's Park.
I'll make you laugh if at all possible, sometimes at the most inappropriate imagery you'll ever hear. I used to have a sense of propriety, but I gave it up for Lent.
I'm not Catholic.
I was broken badly a few times, and I fixed myself... But I'm still not 100%.
I'm still hoping for a hero... but I'm losing my faith.
If you tell me what you need, I'll help.
If you smile when you see me, it'll make my day, and I'll do just about anything for you.
If you mess with me, I'll mess right back, but don't worry, I don't hit... Unless you're a redneck who picks on people weaker than you.
If possible, I'll save you... Or better yet, I'll help you save yourself.
Well, I guess that's all you need to know about me... See what I mean? I'm not all that interesting... I'm pretty much just like everyone else, but I keep hoping that someday I'll be as awesome as you are.
It's been nice talking with you... I hope you'll remember me when I'm gone, 'cause I could sail off into the sunset any day. And you never can tell when sharks, ninjas, or a bus with no brakes could strike.
Party like a rock star.
Just sayin'.
Namaste.
And Once Again, The Proverbial Plot Thickens
Well, as much as I have often wished to die a super cool death at the teeth of a shark, I somehow discovered that I still had will to live.
Will wonders never cease?
As the big fish came closer I realized that I had very few choices. Despite my rather nimble skills as a swimmer, there was no way I could out swim this big boy. Also, I probably had almost no chance in a biting contest with him, regardless of the sharpness of my razor tooth incisors.
What's a girl to do?
And then, I remembered my feet. Luckily I was still wearing my spiky boots.
As the shark came barreling toward me, I aimed as well as I could through my complete and utter terror, and shoved my heels toward the master of the deep's nose.
I completely missed.
However, before the monster, who looked big enough to swallow me whole with one gulp (no chewing necessary), could chomp down and take both legs off at the knees, something latched on to me and yanked me backward and down, pulling the regulator from my mouth, but adding enough mass to my weight to pull me underneath the shark.
The beast, unable to stop his forward momentum, sailed over me like a yacht. I saw every inch of his ancient white belly sail directly over my face, mere inches from my nose. It was battle-scarred. For just an instant I experienced a total sense of awe and wonder at the big guy's power and majesty. What must it be like to be him?
Of course, that was probably just the effects of oxygen deprivation combined with adrenaline overload.
Unfortunately there was no time either to cheer or continue to wonder, even if I could have.
Already my body was once again beginning to scream from oxygen starvation, and whatever was pulling me down had me in a vise-like grip, pinning my arms to my sides and sending me, for the nth time that day into complete and utter panic.
Before I could really let go into all out terror mode, I saw the opening of the cave just to my left and down, and whoever had grabbed me let go.
Dammit.
Oh yeah, you guessed it.
Mr. Congeni-fucking-ality.
I barely had time to register my dismay at possibly owing the continuation of my marvelous career to that smiling bastard when my scuba angel grabbed my arm and began pulling me toward the mouth of the cave. Anxious to breathe again at some point in the near future, I gave my heart and soul to the swim.
The cave was nearly as black as the gaping maw of the shark that had almost sent me to the cool kid's table in hell... But had significantly fewer teeth.
The hold on my arm tightened, and I felt a splash on my face, and then, Thank Carlos, cool air filling my lungs. There was a second's pause, when it seemed like I had lost the knack of breathing altogether, but it was merely the fact that I appeared to be enthusiastically and heroically throwing up about 6 gallons of seawater. It tasted absolutely filthy.
I doubt I'll be having salt put on the rims of my margaritas for a while. Just sayin'.
The next thing I heard a crackle, and the sound of something being shaken. Within seconds a chemical glow stick lit up my surroundings.
So there I was... sitting in the shallows of an underwater cave with MysteryScubaGuy and Mr. Congeniality.
I was dripping wet, my leg was still bleeding, and I had absolutely no idea what the hell I was going to do to get my ship back or rescue my crew.
I wanted to put my head back under the water and resume trying to grow gills like a fish.Perhaps drowning wouldn't be such a bad way to go... It was certainly simpler than fighting...
Of course, Congeniality took this momentary pause in the action to give me a huge smile. He followed this impertinence up by saying,
"Hey, scuba guy, got any aloe or Neosporin in that pack? Queenie here owes me a rub down for saving her life."
He then had the unmitigated temerity to raise his eyebrows at me a couple of times in a distinctly smartass fashion.
I heard the person in the mask give a muffled snort of laughter.
The second thing I heard was a splash as Congeniality hit the floor like a ton of badgers. The third was a distinct moan.
Oh great... Now my knuckles are bleeding too.
Son of a bitch.
Apparently, Congeniality, in his infinite wisdom, managed to find the one moment in my mirth-filled life when I had lost every scrap of my Titanic sense of humor.
Maybe I should change his nickname to "Iceberg."
I hope I broke that smiling jackass' nose.
Rub some aloe on that, smartass.
Will wonders never cease?
As the big fish came closer I realized that I had very few choices. Despite my rather nimble skills as a swimmer, there was no way I could out swim this big boy. Also, I probably had almost no chance in a biting contest with him, regardless of the sharpness of my razor tooth incisors.
What's a girl to do?
And then, I remembered my feet. Luckily I was still wearing my spiky boots.
As the shark came barreling toward me, I aimed as well as I could through my complete and utter terror, and shoved my heels toward the master of the deep's nose.
I completely missed.
However, before the monster, who looked big enough to swallow me whole with one gulp (no chewing necessary), could chomp down and take both legs off at the knees, something latched on to me and yanked me backward and down, pulling the regulator from my mouth, but adding enough mass to my weight to pull me underneath the shark.
The beast, unable to stop his forward momentum, sailed over me like a yacht. I saw every inch of his ancient white belly sail directly over my face, mere inches from my nose. It was battle-scarred. For just an instant I experienced a total sense of awe and wonder at the big guy's power and majesty. What must it be like to be him?
Of course, that was probably just the effects of oxygen deprivation combined with adrenaline overload.
Unfortunately there was no time either to cheer or continue to wonder, even if I could have.
Already my body was once again beginning to scream from oxygen starvation, and whatever was pulling me down had me in a vise-like grip, pinning my arms to my sides and sending me, for the nth time that day into complete and utter panic.
Before I could really let go into all out terror mode, I saw the opening of the cave just to my left and down, and whoever had grabbed me let go.
Dammit.
Oh yeah, you guessed it.
Mr. Congeni-fucking-ality.
I barely had time to register my dismay at possibly owing the continuation of my marvelous career to that smiling bastard when my scuba angel grabbed my arm and began pulling me toward the mouth of the cave. Anxious to breathe again at some point in the near future, I gave my heart and soul to the swim.
The cave was nearly as black as the gaping maw of the shark that had almost sent me to the cool kid's table in hell... But had significantly fewer teeth.
The hold on my arm tightened, and I felt a splash on my face, and then, Thank Carlos, cool air filling my lungs. There was a second's pause, when it seemed like I had lost the knack of breathing altogether, but it was merely the fact that I appeared to be enthusiastically and heroically throwing up about 6 gallons of seawater. It tasted absolutely filthy.
I doubt I'll be having salt put on the rims of my margaritas for a while. Just sayin'.
The next thing I heard a crackle, and the sound of something being shaken. Within seconds a chemical glow stick lit up my surroundings.
So there I was... sitting in the shallows of an underwater cave with MysteryScubaGuy and Mr. Congeniality.
I was dripping wet, my leg was still bleeding, and I had absolutely no idea what the hell I was going to do to get my ship back or rescue my crew.
I wanted to put my head back under the water and resume trying to grow gills like a fish.Perhaps drowning wouldn't be such a bad way to go... It was certainly simpler than fighting...
Of course, Congeniality took this momentary pause in the action to give me a huge smile. He followed this impertinence up by saying,
"Hey, scuba guy, got any aloe or Neosporin in that pack? Queenie here owes me a rub down for saving her life."
He then had the unmitigated temerity to raise his eyebrows at me a couple of times in a distinctly smartass fashion.
I heard the person in the mask give a muffled snort of laughter.
The second thing I heard was a splash as Congeniality hit the floor like a ton of badgers. The third was a distinct moan.
Oh great... Now my knuckles are bleeding too.
Son of a bitch.
Apparently, Congeniality, in his infinite wisdom, managed to find the one moment in my mirth-filled life when I had lost every scrap of my Titanic sense of humor.
Maybe I should change his nickname to "Iceberg."
I hope I broke that smiling jackass' nose.
Rub some aloe on that, smartass.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
A Gallon of Atlantic Ocean Seawater Makes a Great Diuretic. Ask Me How!
...I hit the ocean in the face like a fist, and then sank beneath the waves.
Still blindfolded, and strapped to Mr. Congeniality, I sank like a platinum weight. (You ever notice how it's always a "lead weight" in the old saying? What's with that? I like to think I'm worth more than friggin' lead).
Sorry... tangent. ADD moment I guess.
Anyway, there I was, thrashing and flailing about in a complete panic, being dragged to the bottom of the ocean floor by a passed out and unbeliveably sunburnt pirate that I'd managed to capture and subdue with no small amount of effort, with sharks circling above me and wondering if I'd go well with a side of dolphin, when I felt myself grabbed by the hair.
What little rational mind power I had left... I lost.
I managed to throw at least a couple of weak and water-logged punches before the blindfold was torn off and I found myself staring into the face of... Captain Nemo?
No, seriously, it was someone in a wet suit, scuba gear, the whole works.
It was at this point that the blackness around the edges of my eyesight began to really take over. I nearly decided to try my luck at breathing water when a regulator was stuffed roughly in my mouth and I took my first breath in what felt like decades.
About the same time, an enormous weight was lifted from me... but I hardly noticed.
I mean, seriously.
No one can really ever tell you what it's like to suffocate... Your brain basically goes completely insane. You can feel your head pounding while your brain tries to escape from your skull in search of air, and every cell in your body shouts, "WHAT THE FUCK!!!" in unison.
Needless to say... It's not an experience I would recommend for fun and games, so... Don't try this at home kids.
While I marveled over how much fun it was to inhale something other than water, I had apparently been towed some distance by the diver, and there below us was a cave.
Well, that wasn't so bad, in fact, that was pretty friggin' sweet!
Of course, since my life is generally a series of extreme highs and lows that never seems to even out, it was at that moment that I noticed the twinge of pain in my leg from where I had been wounded in the battle for the Unvanquished. It didn't hurt overly much, but I did notice that a trickle of blood was flowing sluggishly along side me and my guardian scuba angel...
Huh. Apparently my brain still hadn't fully recovered from my dunking. I knew that there was some reason why it might be dangerous to be bleeding, out here in the open sea...
And that was when a shadow came gliding out of nowhere... It was the biggest goddamned shadow in the history of creation.
When I looked up, all I could think of was a line from one of the greatest movies of the twentieth century...
"I think we're gonna need a bigger boat."
And baleful eye of the biggest fish in the known universe fell upon me...
At that point... I completely forgot to breathe.
Meh, who needs oxygen really?
Still blindfolded, and strapped to Mr. Congeniality, I sank like a platinum weight. (You ever notice how it's always a "lead weight" in the old saying? What's with that? I like to think I'm worth more than friggin' lead).
Sorry... tangent. ADD moment I guess.
Anyway, there I was, thrashing and flailing about in a complete panic, being dragged to the bottom of the ocean floor by a passed out and unbeliveably sunburnt pirate that I'd managed to capture and subdue with no small amount of effort, with sharks circling above me and wondering if I'd go well with a side of dolphin, when I felt myself grabbed by the hair.
What little rational mind power I had left... I lost.
I managed to throw at least a couple of weak and water-logged punches before the blindfold was torn off and I found myself staring into the face of... Captain Nemo?
No, seriously, it was someone in a wet suit, scuba gear, the whole works.
It was at this point that the blackness around the edges of my eyesight began to really take over. I nearly decided to try my luck at breathing water when a regulator was stuffed roughly in my mouth and I took my first breath in what felt like decades.
About the same time, an enormous weight was lifted from me... but I hardly noticed.
I mean, seriously.
No one can really ever tell you what it's like to suffocate... Your brain basically goes completely insane. You can feel your head pounding while your brain tries to escape from your skull in search of air, and every cell in your body shouts, "WHAT THE FUCK!!!" in unison.
Needless to say... It's not an experience I would recommend for fun and games, so... Don't try this at home kids.
While I marveled over how much fun it was to inhale something other than water, I had apparently been towed some distance by the diver, and there below us was a cave.
Well, that wasn't so bad, in fact, that was pretty friggin' sweet!
Of course, since my life is generally a series of extreme highs and lows that never seems to even out, it was at that moment that I noticed the twinge of pain in my leg from where I had been wounded in the battle for the Unvanquished. It didn't hurt overly much, but I did notice that a trickle of blood was flowing sluggishly along side me and my guardian scuba angel...
Huh. Apparently my brain still hadn't fully recovered from my dunking. I knew that there was some reason why it might be dangerous to be bleeding, out here in the open sea...
And that was when a shadow came gliding out of nowhere... It was the biggest goddamned shadow in the history of creation.
When I looked up, all I could think of was a line from one of the greatest movies of the twentieth century...
"I think we're gonna need a bigger boat."
And baleful eye of the biggest fish in the known universe fell upon me...
At that point... I completely forgot to breathe.
Meh, who needs oxygen really?
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Shopping for a Superhero
As I write this missive, I am sitting by the side of the road desperately hoping a superhero will show up to rescue me... I'm pretty tired of rescuing myself.
I left Manchester a few hours ago, and on my drive home I got a little... well, sidetracked.
You see, there were these rednecks... And it just goes down hill from there. Suffice to say, I did manage to kick ass, but all I have to show for it is a few bruises, some road rash on my butt, and a car with 3 flat tires.
The rednecks look worse.
Still, while I'm waiting I thought I'd share a few thoughts with you on one of my favorite topics... Oh yeah, that's right... Superheroes.
While I was down at Double Midnight I scored some kick ass comics... 5 issues of Buffy, a bunch of Punisher and Wolverine team-up issues, 2 volumes of The Essential X-Men, one of The Essential Silver Surfer, and naturally, The Essential Amazing Spiderman, Vol 8. Also, I got a totally sweet comic called Death Ship, and I'm pretty much in love with the art. YAY!!
I'm the happiest little geek girl on the planet... Except for the road rash. I surely don't relish the thought of taking an SOS pad to my butt in order to get the gravel out of it. Ouch. That's going to sting, and it's hard to do, even with a mirror.
Yes, friends. I am a geek. I like comic books, games, and sports.
I never have been, and never will be, cool. I accepted this fact long ago.
I'm okay with it. You see, as far as I'm concerned... Life is all about my own personal amusement. To that end, I started thinking about all my most favorite superheroes.
I will list some of them below for your reading pleasure (if you are a fellow geek) and/or for your personal edification (if you are too cool to be geek).
1. Wolverine--- He's small, he's hairy, he's filled with the need to kick major ass pretty much 24/7. I have been seriously in love with him since I was ... oh, 13 years old. Dark and murky past, big claws, sarcastic sense of humor... What's not to love? Now don't get me wrong... I loved the X-Men movies, and Hugh Jackman is obviously a pleasure to look at... But let's face it, he's not really Wolverine... Close, but no cigar (heh heh---never mind, if you haven't read the comics, you won't get it). Wolverine doesn't wax his chest. Just sayin'.
2. Spider-Man---Number one: Basically, he can fly. Number Two: He is the funniest superhero EVER. Number three: He's always worried about important stuff, like paying his rent... Which makes him not only seriously funny and a badass, but also much more realistic than most superheroes. Also, being smaller than most of the others, he has to make up in attitude what he lacks in stature. If I ever grow up, I want to be like him... Only female of course.
3. Captain America--- I mean, come on... He's patriotic, he's strong, he's silent, he always has a plan, and he never gives up. He's nice to children and little old ladies. How is it possible NOT to love this guy? Yeah, yeah, I hear you grumbling that it's all a bunch of governmental propaganda... Blah, blah, blah. I still love him. Deal with it.
4. Batman---Dark, brooding, AND most importantly, super smart... And just look at that car. Admit it ladies, gotta love the bad boy with the sweet car. If I can admit it, so can you. It's Darwinian.
5. The Thing--- Again with the funny... I know, I know. But seriously, whenever I read anything he's in that's well written... I laugh out loud. Also, he's made of rock, but he's a major sweetie. Plus, he kicks the shit out of bad guys. Love it.
6. Beast--- He's blue, he's fuzzy, he's a complete smartass, and he has several doctoral degrees. Do I really need to say more? Well, just in case, let me say it again... He's BLUE, he's FUZZY, he's FUNNY, and he's SMART. He's basically the perfect man. LOL
7. The Silver Surfer--- Ever seen him? He basically looks like the Oscar statuette... Only silver. And he's got this whole "inner sadness/self sacrifice for the benefit of the world" thing going on. Just imagine a cross between Angel from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Rodin's The Thinker and you've got it. He's deep, yet he kicks ass mercilessly. Oh, and he's pretty much naked all the time. Gotta love that.
Hmm... Reading back over this list... I'm sure I've managed to somehow reveal inner workings about myself that probably shouldn't be shared with others... Oh well. Life sucks, get a helmet.
Oops... Well, I think a couple of these rednecks are starting to come around... I better make sure the ropes are tight enough.
Sadly, I don't think any superheroes will be coming to my rescue.
Dammit.
Why do I never get the chance to be a damsel in distress? When I ask for help, men usually just laugh and say, "Yeah, right, do it yourself."
*sigh*
It's tough to be a super hero.
Peace, out.
I left Manchester a few hours ago, and on my drive home I got a little... well, sidetracked.
You see, there were these rednecks... And it just goes down hill from there. Suffice to say, I did manage to kick ass, but all I have to show for it is a few bruises, some road rash on my butt, and a car with 3 flat tires.
The rednecks look worse.
Still, while I'm waiting I thought I'd share a few thoughts with you on one of my favorite topics... Oh yeah, that's right... Superheroes.
While I was down at Double Midnight I scored some kick ass comics... 5 issues of Buffy, a bunch of Punisher and Wolverine team-up issues, 2 volumes of The Essential X-Men, one of The Essential Silver Surfer, and naturally, The Essential Amazing Spiderman, Vol 8. Also, I got a totally sweet comic called Death Ship, and I'm pretty much in love with the art. YAY!!
I'm the happiest little geek girl on the planet... Except for the road rash. I surely don't relish the thought of taking an SOS pad to my butt in order to get the gravel out of it. Ouch. That's going to sting, and it's hard to do, even with a mirror.
Yes, friends. I am a geek. I like comic books, games, and sports.
I never have been, and never will be, cool. I accepted this fact long ago.
I'm okay with it. You see, as far as I'm concerned... Life is all about my own personal amusement. To that end, I started thinking about all my most favorite superheroes.
I will list some of them below for your reading pleasure (if you are a fellow geek) and/or for your personal edification (if you are too cool to be geek).
1. Wolverine--- He's small, he's hairy, he's filled with the need to kick major ass pretty much 24/7. I have been seriously in love with him since I was ... oh, 13 years old. Dark and murky past, big claws, sarcastic sense of humor... What's not to love? Now don't get me wrong... I loved the X-Men movies, and Hugh Jackman is obviously a pleasure to look at... But let's face it, he's not really Wolverine... Close, but no cigar (heh heh---never mind, if you haven't read the comics, you won't get it). Wolverine doesn't wax his chest. Just sayin'.
2. Spider-Man---Number one: Basically, he can fly. Number Two: He is the funniest superhero EVER. Number three: He's always worried about important stuff, like paying his rent... Which makes him not only seriously funny and a badass, but also much more realistic than most superheroes. Also, being smaller than most of the others, he has to make up in attitude what he lacks in stature. If I ever grow up, I want to be like him... Only female of course.
3. Captain America--- I mean, come on... He's patriotic, he's strong, he's silent, he always has a plan, and he never gives up. He's nice to children and little old ladies. How is it possible NOT to love this guy? Yeah, yeah, I hear you grumbling that it's all a bunch of governmental propaganda... Blah, blah, blah. I still love him. Deal with it.
4. Batman---Dark, brooding, AND most importantly, super smart... And just look at that car. Admit it ladies, gotta love the bad boy with the sweet car. If I can admit it, so can you. It's Darwinian.
5. The Thing--- Again with the funny... I know, I know. But seriously, whenever I read anything he's in that's well written... I laugh out loud. Also, he's made of rock, but he's a major sweetie. Plus, he kicks the shit out of bad guys. Love it.
6. Beast--- He's blue, he's fuzzy, he's a complete smartass, and he has several doctoral degrees. Do I really need to say more? Well, just in case, let me say it again... He's BLUE, he's FUZZY, he's FUNNY, and he's SMART. He's basically the perfect man. LOL
7. The Silver Surfer--- Ever seen him? He basically looks like the Oscar statuette... Only silver. And he's got this whole "inner sadness/self sacrifice for the benefit of the world" thing going on. Just imagine a cross between Angel from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Rodin's The Thinker and you've got it. He's deep, yet he kicks ass mercilessly. Oh, and he's pretty much naked all the time. Gotta love that.
Hmm... Reading back over this list... I'm sure I've managed to somehow reveal inner workings about myself that probably shouldn't be shared with others... Oh well. Life sucks, get a helmet.
Oops... Well, I think a couple of these rednecks are starting to come around... I better make sure the ropes are tight enough.
Sadly, I don't think any superheroes will be coming to my rescue.
Dammit.
Why do I never get the chance to be a damsel in distress? When I ask for help, men usually just laugh and say, "Yeah, right, do it yourself."
*sigh*
It's tough to be a super hero.
Peace, out.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Just When I Was About to Get Some Answers, Or, A Short Walk and a Long Drop
Well... The day started out annoying and rapidly moved past "bad" all the way to "friggin' awful" in about 2.2 hours.
Things seemed to be going well at first. Around 11 or so Mr. Congeniality began to really lose his charm under the direct gaze of the eye of heaven.
But by 1pm I managed to suddenly find myself blindfolded, stripped of my cutlass and multi-tool, and taking a short walk followed by a long drop.
Under the blindfold I could see a narrow strip of the sea below... And there were dorsal fins circling the ship.
Those weren't the fins of friendly dolphins.
Oh Holy Mother of Carlos...All I could think was, "Sometime in the next 15 minutes, I could be pulling up a hard plastic chair to join my brethren at the cool table in Hell."
Of course, though I did always fully intend to die young and tragically misunderstood after a life of glorious excess... This was not the time or place I had envisioned.
I know, I know... You're dying to know what happened, right?
Well, here's my sad tale of woe for your merciless perusal.
It was high noon. The sun beat down on my head, bleaching my hair and turning the deck of the Unvanquished a washed out gray. I stood before Mr. Congeniality with my multi-tool in hand, fully prepared to use any means necessary to get some answers.
His head hung forward limply, and the only thing keeping him upright were the few ropes I had instructed Cosgrove to leave tied about his chest.
For a moment, I almost felt a stirring of pity in my cold, cold heart.
I grabbed that feeling around the throat and choked the life out of it while it kicked, screamed, and begged. And then I pitched its still warm corpse over the side. I stepped up, grabbed Congeniality by the scruff of his neck and was about to begin my questions when there was a shout from the crow's nest.
"SHIP AHOY!"
Quickly, I scanned the horizon, and there I saw a ship, somewhat larger than my own fair lady. It's sails billowed out, and its flag snapping in the breeze.
The flag was entirely black. No cheerful jolly roger, no patriotic symbol of any kind...
Those damn ninjas. I should've killed them when I had the chance.
And then the deck seemed to pitch below me, tossing me like a rag doll against Congeniality's limp form. He raised his head, focused his bleary eyes on me and said,
"Not right now dear... I think I've got sunburn on my--"
The deck pitched again, and I pushed away from the smartass, running for the rails and shouting for my men to assemble.
Though we put up a tremendous fight, battling mercilessly, screaming like berserkers, our foe was too well armed, and willing to sacrifice every last ninja in order to bring us under his thumb.
It was that bastard, Shiruken the Younger.
He gave me a choice, go down with the ship, in which case all of my men would be put to the sword, or take a punishment of his choosing... In which case I would still meet my demise, but the men would live.
I knew he was lying... It was written all over his patchy face.
But what could I do? What choice did I really have?
God damn it. I really fricking hate ninjas.
The worst of it?
He thought that it would be absolutely hilarious to make me walk the plank.
Cosgrove started to explain that "Walking the Plank" is a complete wives tale, but of course he was silenced effectively with a boot to the face.
Oh, and even better?
Before being blindfolded, Shiruken also thought that it would be even more hilarious to tie me up... To Mr. Congeniality.
As I shuffled down the plank, practically carrying Congeniality on my back, I had time to ponder the great mysteries of the universe such as:
How in the deep blue and tan hell did I end up here?
and,
How had the ninjas found us?
and,
How come a decent manicure is cheap, but a pedicure is so ungodly expensive?
To many of life's mysteries... There is just no satisfactory answer.
The sharks circled.
I stood on the end of the plank.
Shiruken asked if I had any last words. I asked him,
"How come all you ninjas look the same? Afraid to stand up as individuals? And what with all those kung fu movies? Don't you know that superhero movies are the pinnacle of human civilization?"
With a growl of rage, the board was sharply yanked from under me, and I dropped like a groundhog into a deep well...
Things seemed to be going well at first. Around 11 or so Mr. Congeniality began to really lose his charm under the direct gaze of the eye of heaven.
But by 1pm I managed to suddenly find myself blindfolded, stripped of my cutlass and multi-tool, and taking a short walk followed by a long drop.
Under the blindfold I could see a narrow strip of the sea below... And there were dorsal fins circling the ship.
Those weren't the fins of friendly dolphins.
Oh Holy Mother of Carlos...All I could think was, "Sometime in the next 15 minutes, I could be pulling up a hard plastic chair to join my brethren at the cool table in Hell."
Of course, though I did always fully intend to die young and tragically misunderstood after a life of glorious excess... This was not the time or place I had envisioned.
I know, I know... You're dying to know what happened, right?
Well, here's my sad tale of woe for your merciless perusal.
It was high noon. The sun beat down on my head, bleaching my hair and turning the deck of the Unvanquished a washed out gray. I stood before Mr. Congeniality with my multi-tool in hand, fully prepared to use any means necessary to get some answers.
His head hung forward limply, and the only thing keeping him upright were the few ropes I had instructed Cosgrove to leave tied about his chest.
For a moment, I almost felt a stirring of pity in my cold, cold heart.
I grabbed that feeling around the throat and choked the life out of it while it kicked, screamed, and begged. And then I pitched its still warm corpse over the side. I stepped up, grabbed Congeniality by the scruff of his neck and was about to begin my questions when there was a shout from the crow's nest.
"SHIP AHOY!"
Quickly, I scanned the horizon, and there I saw a ship, somewhat larger than my own fair lady. It's sails billowed out, and its flag snapping in the breeze.
The flag was entirely black. No cheerful jolly roger, no patriotic symbol of any kind...
Those damn ninjas. I should've killed them when I had the chance.
And then the deck seemed to pitch below me, tossing me like a rag doll against Congeniality's limp form. He raised his head, focused his bleary eyes on me and said,
"Not right now dear... I think I've got sunburn on my--"
The deck pitched again, and I pushed away from the smartass, running for the rails and shouting for my men to assemble.
Though we put up a tremendous fight, battling mercilessly, screaming like berserkers, our foe was too well armed, and willing to sacrifice every last ninja in order to bring us under his thumb.
It was that bastard, Shiruken the Younger.
He gave me a choice, go down with the ship, in which case all of my men would be put to the sword, or take a punishment of his choosing... In which case I would still meet my demise, but the men would live.
I knew he was lying... It was written all over his patchy face.
But what could I do? What choice did I really have?
God damn it. I really fricking hate ninjas.
The worst of it?
He thought that it would be absolutely hilarious to make me walk the plank.
Cosgrove started to explain that "Walking the Plank" is a complete wives tale, but of course he was silenced effectively with a boot to the face.
Oh, and even better?
Before being blindfolded, Shiruken also thought that it would be even more hilarious to tie me up... To Mr. Congeniality.
As I shuffled down the plank, practically carrying Congeniality on my back, I had time to ponder the great mysteries of the universe such as:
How in the deep blue and tan hell did I end up here?
and,
How had the ninjas found us?
and,
How come a decent manicure is cheap, but a pedicure is so ungodly expensive?
To many of life's mysteries... There is just no satisfactory answer.
The sharks circled.
I stood on the end of the plank.
Shiruken asked if I had any last words. I asked him,
"How come all you ninjas look the same? Afraid to stand up as individuals? And what with all those kung fu movies? Don't you know that superhero movies are the pinnacle of human civilization?"
With a growl of rage, the board was sharply yanked from under me, and I dropped like a groundhog into a deep well...
Threats and Intimidation
Before dawn I emerged from a cat-like snooze and stretched until every joint in my body popped like a bowl of Rice Crispy's.
Damn it... Why must I always awaken before the "crack of sparrow fart"?
A Pirate Queen's work is never done. Besides, I am a firm believer that laziness is a sign of weakness... Unless of course we are talking about house cleaning, in which case I'm all for laziness.
But that's beside the point. Back to the narrative flow...
I carelessly tossed on some black clothing, strapped my cutlass to my waist, slipped black boots upon my feet, and shoved my damp hair under a jaunty blue bandana. I was out of the room in minutes and click-clacking up to the deck with a slight jangle of silver buckles.
Screw that "girlie-taking-forever-to-get-dressed-routine," that's so NOT me.
At this hour just before dawn, about half the crew was awake and sleepily looking to minor chores like swabbing the deck, or moving necessary supplies about. Cook was engaged in shouting obscenities at one of his hapless assistants, and the smell of coffee almost drew me to the galley.
Again, I restrained myself. The primary order of business was to begin a long day of questioning with the prisoner, Mr. Congeniality, and if possible I wanted to be the first thing he saw when he opened his bleary and bloodshot eyes.
I approached the mast with measured steps, wanting to make a point that I had all the time in the world to question him. Also, wanting to project the most menacing figure possible, I set my face in a scowl, and drew my dagger from my boot.
The sight that met my eyes was one of epically pathetic proportions. Congeniality was tied to the mast, stripped down to nothing, and he sagged limply in his bonds, head hanging forward, ropes digging into his exhausted form.
I sneered again, (just for practice this time, as he appeared to be sleeping/passed out) stepped to within inches, grabbed a hank of his hair, and shoved his head back against the mast, jarring his skull in the same place where my blow had fallen the evening prior.
He came to with a yelp, followed closely by a groan. For a moment he seemed to focus on my face with great difficulty, and I let go of his hair. Without my support, his head once again dropped to half mast and then he lifted it, looked into my irritated face, and said,
"Hey. How are ya this morning Queenie?" So saying, he lifted his brow and did that "guy nod" thing. For a fraction of an instant I actually found myself on the cusp of either a blush or a laugh.
WTF.
This REALLY pissed me off.
Instead of answering, I drew back my hand and slapped him across the face hard enough to make his head snap sideways and strike the mast again.
I tell you what... No one hits on me first thing in the morning without my express written consent, signed in triplicate, and stamped by the seal of a notary public.
No one...with the possible exception of Batman.
But, I digress.
I followed the slap by stepping in even closer, so close that I could see each and every follicle of stubble on his face, and said in my very best tone of menace,
"Shall we begin again? You see, this is how it works, I will ask you questions. You will answer those questions, or I will start hurting you. Or better yet, I'll just leave you here to broil under the hot sun for a day or two until you beg me to kill you. Do you understand?"
As I had spoken, his head had begun to drop forward again, but at the conclusion of my "Dirty Harry" impression, he raised it, and looked at me through one green eye. There was a second's pause before he finally answered.
He said, "Wow Queenie... Love that badass thing. I think I'll just... Hang out, for a while."
And then?
He laughed.
Damn... Maybe he really was insane. Well, I guess that would make two of us then.
Disgusted at what I could now see was going to be a long ass day, I stepped back and slowly shook my head. Why can't I ever get the easy ones? Why do my foes always fight with such ferocity when surely they know that it is their fate to either join me or die?
*sigh*
I slowly eyed him, going all the way from stem to stern (so to speak), and before I turned away, I said in a perfectly reasonable voice... "Cosgrove... You'd better cut some of those ropes away a bit... I wouldn't want our guest to end the day with too many unsightly tan lines..."
Behind me, "Brisket" Cosgrove laughed heartily and responded with a jaunty "Aye-aye, Captain!"
There was a swift intake of breath from the prisoner when Cosgrove's knife drew just a drop of blood as it slid beneath one of the ropes, and then he said, "Hey Queenie, could you bring me a coffee? Cream and sugar. Just one spoonful, I don't want it too sweet. Thanks, babe."
My spine tingled, and I could feel myself wanting to straighten up like a fireplace poker had shot straight up through my nether-regions and come out through the top of my head.
But I'm nothing if not a good actor; I faked a laugh of good cheer into the brightening dawn and slowly strode away, not once looking back or rising to the bait.
I found my way to the galley, got a nice steaming mug of coffee for myself, and then took a turn around the deck, never looking at or otherwise acknowledging my "guest."
Christ on a cracker... This was going to be an interesting day...
Damn it... Why must I always awaken before the "crack of sparrow fart"?
A Pirate Queen's work is never done. Besides, I am a firm believer that laziness is a sign of weakness... Unless of course we are talking about house cleaning, in which case I'm all for laziness.
But that's beside the point. Back to the narrative flow...
I carelessly tossed on some black clothing, strapped my cutlass to my waist, slipped black boots upon my feet, and shoved my damp hair under a jaunty blue bandana. I was out of the room in minutes and click-clacking up to the deck with a slight jangle of silver buckles.
Screw that "girlie-taking-forever-to-get-dressed-routine," that's so NOT me.
At this hour just before dawn, about half the crew was awake and sleepily looking to minor chores like swabbing the deck, or moving necessary supplies about. Cook was engaged in shouting obscenities at one of his hapless assistants, and the smell of coffee almost drew me to the galley.
Again, I restrained myself. The primary order of business was to begin a long day of questioning with the prisoner, Mr. Congeniality, and if possible I wanted to be the first thing he saw when he opened his bleary and bloodshot eyes.
I approached the mast with measured steps, wanting to make a point that I had all the time in the world to question him. Also, wanting to project the most menacing figure possible, I set my face in a scowl, and drew my dagger from my boot.
The sight that met my eyes was one of epically pathetic proportions. Congeniality was tied to the mast, stripped down to nothing, and he sagged limply in his bonds, head hanging forward, ropes digging into his exhausted form.
I sneered again, (just for practice this time, as he appeared to be sleeping/passed out) stepped to within inches, grabbed a hank of his hair, and shoved his head back against the mast, jarring his skull in the same place where my blow had fallen the evening prior.
He came to with a yelp, followed closely by a groan. For a moment he seemed to focus on my face with great difficulty, and I let go of his hair. Without my support, his head once again dropped to half mast and then he lifted it, looked into my irritated face, and said,
"Hey. How are ya this morning Queenie?" So saying, he lifted his brow and did that "guy nod" thing. For a fraction of an instant I actually found myself on the cusp of either a blush or a laugh.
WTF.
This REALLY pissed me off.
Instead of answering, I drew back my hand and slapped him across the face hard enough to make his head snap sideways and strike the mast again.
I tell you what... No one hits on me first thing in the morning without my express written consent, signed in triplicate, and stamped by the seal of a notary public.
No one...with the possible exception of Batman.
But, I digress.
I followed the slap by stepping in even closer, so close that I could see each and every follicle of stubble on his face, and said in my very best tone of menace,
"Shall we begin again? You see, this is how it works, I will ask you questions. You will answer those questions, or I will start hurting you. Or better yet, I'll just leave you here to broil under the hot sun for a day or two until you beg me to kill you. Do you understand?"
As I had spoken, his head had begun to drop forward again, but at the conclusion of my "Dirty Harry" impression, he raised it, and looked at me through one green eye. There was a second's pause before he finally answered.
He said, "Wow Queenie... Love that badass thing. I think I'll just... Hang out, for a while."
And then?
He laughed.
Damn... Maybe he really was insane. Well, I guess that would make two of us then.
Disgusted at what I could now see was going to be a long ass day, I stepped back and slowly shook my head. Why can't I ever get the easy ones? Why do my foes always fight with such ferocity when surely they know that it is their fate to either join me or die?
*sigh*
I slowly eyed him, going all the way from stem to stern (so to speak), and before I turned away, I said in a perfectly reasonable voice... "Cosgrove... You'd better cut some of those ropes away a bit... I wouldn't want our guest to end the day with too many unsightly tan lines..."
Behind me, "Brisket" Cosgrove laughed heartily and responded with a jaunty "Aye-aye, Captain!"
There was a swift intake of breath from the prisoner when Cosgrove's knife drew just a drop of blood as it slid beneath one of the ropes, and then he said, "Hey Queenie, could you bring me a coffee? Cream and sugar. Just one spoonful, I don't want it too sweet. Thanks, babe."
My spine tingled, and I could feel myself wanting to straighten up like a fireplace poker had shot straight up through my nether-regions and come out through the top of my head.
But I'm nothing if not a good actor; I faked a laugh of good cheer into the brightening dawn and slowly strode away, not once looking back or rising to the bait.
I found my way to the galley, got a nice steaming mug of coffee for myself, and then took a turn around the deck, never looking at or otherwise acknowledging my "guest."
Christ on a cracker... This was going to be an interesting day...
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Dick's Sucks... Or, I Never Learn Anything from My Past Mistakes
That's right. I said it.
Better yet, I meant it.
So... There I was, in the largest sporting goods store in Concord, NH, and this smartass with bad hair told me (and I do quote):
"We don't carry those. No one rollerblades anymore."
Well, fuck you very much, Brad. (Oh yeah, NATURALLY his name was Brad).
I wanted to reach up, grab one of his eyebrows, and pull every damn hair out by the friggin' roots.
All the more so because on my way up Loudon Road, I happened to drive past two people who were, you guessed it, ROLLERBLADING.
*sigh*
How is this possible?
Seriously. And clearly, I have learned nothing from history... Because this is the very same problem I faced two years ago when my last pair of rollerblades bit the dust.
I LOVE to rollerblade.
It is the one time in my gravitationally and aerodynamically challenged life when I can actually do a physical activity that doesn't require me to wear two sports bras in order to avoid unsightly bouncing.
Plus... It's really fucking FAST.
I love me some FAST.
(Oh go ahead and snicker you perv. I'll let it go this time).
Anyway, the last time, I ended up having to drive to Manchester, where there are two sporting goods stores in adjoining strip malls... BOTH have an entire aisle devoted to nothing EXCEPT rollerblades and rollerblading accessories.
So don't tell ME that no one rollerblades.
I fricken' know better.
So anyway... yes, I once again had to go to ManchVegas to score my drug of choice. But, it's all good. I'm happy with the ones I got.
I just wish I could cast aside for once and all the shackles of propriety and really give one of those Dick's employees the come-uppance they deserve. As it was, all I did was embarrass him pretty good by making one of my oh-so-appropriate comments.
You see, after he told me that they didn't have the item I desired, he continued to follow me about the store. When I stared unseeingly at a kayaking display, he informed me:
"We have all kinds of kayaking supplies...blah, blah, blah... We even have several top of the line flotation devices. Are you interested in purchasing some?"
I raised an eyebrow, looked pointedly down at my chest, then looked up at him.
His spray on tan turned a little pink.
Slowly, I said the following, at the top of my lungs, "Dude... Look at me. I'm a D-cup. I AM a flotation device."
My sister, and several other patrons overheard this.
One guy looked like he was going to swallow his own tongue.
Martha (my sister) laughed out loud, and then repeated what I said in a choking voice that must've carried clear across to the Penacook and Hopkinton town lines.
I then stalked out, with a jaunty step.
Fuck him if he can't take a joke.
I rollerbladed for an hour and a half when I got home... and I plan to go out again after dark tonight.
My sister, ever the nutball, said to me, "Watch out for weirdos."
I looked at her, again raised a skeptical eyebrow and said,
"Martha... I have a metal yardstick, an imitation sword, a plastic pirate hook, 3 pairs of stiletto heels, and a prom dress in my trunk. I AM the weirdo."
Her reply?
"You have a point. Don't hurt anybody... Or, if you do... Make it someone cute, and just wound him so you can bring him home after."
I love her.
This is a running joke for us, ever since I learned that if you are in NH, and you hit something, you get to claim it as yours and take it home.
Watch out.
Just sayin'.
Better yet, I meant it.
So... There I was, in the largest sporting goods store in Concord, NH, and this smartass with bad hair told me (and I do quote):
"We don't carry those. No one rollerblades anymore."
Well, fuck you very much, Brad. (Oh yeah, NATURALLY his name was Brad).
I wanted to reach up, grab one of his eyebrows, and pull every damn hair out by the friggin' roots.
All the more so because on my way up Loudon Road, I happened to drive past two people who were, you guessed it, ROLLERBLADING.
*sigh*
How is this possible?
Seriously. And clearly, I have learned nothing from history... Because this is the very same problem I faced two years ago when my last pair of rollerblades bit the dust.
I LOVE to rollerblade.
It is the one time in my gravitationally and aerodynamically challenged life when I can actually do a physical activity that doesn't require me to wear two sports bras in order to avoid unsightly bouncing.
Plus... It's really fucking FAST.
I love me some FAST.
(Oh go ahead and snicker you perv. I'll let it go this time).
Anyway, the last time, I ended up having to drive to Manchester, where there are two sporting goods stores in adjoining strip malls... BOTH have an entire aisle devoted to nothing EXCEPT rollerblades and rollerblading accessories.
So don't tell ME that no one rollerblades.
I fricken' know better.
So anyway... yes, I once again had to go to ManchVegas to score my drug of choice. But, it's all good. I'm happy with the ones I got.
I just wish I could cast aside for once and all the shackles of propriety and really give one of those Dick's employees the come-uppance they deserve. As it was, all I did was embarrass him pretty good by making one of my oh-so-appropriate comments.
You see, after he told me that they didn't have the item I desired, he continued to follow me about the store. When I stared unseeingly at a kayaking display, he informed me:
"We have all kinds of kayaking supplies...blah, blah, blah... We even have several top of the line flotation devices. Are you interested in purchasing some?"
I raised an eyebrow, looked pointedly down at my chest, then looked up at him.
His spray on tan turned a little pink.
Slowly, I said the following, at the top of my lungs, "Dude... Look at me. I'm a D-cup. I AM a flotation device."
My sister, and several other patrons overheard this.
One guy looked like he was going to swallow his own tongue.
Martha (my sister) laughed out loud, and then repeated what I said in a choking voice that must've carried clear across to the Penacook and Hopkinton town lines.
I then stalked out, with a jaunty step.
Fuck him if he can't take a joke.
I rollerbladed for an hour and a half when I got home... and I plan to go out again after dark tonight.
My sister, ever the nutball, said to me, "Watch out for weirdos."
I looked at her, again raised a skeptical eyebrow and said,
"Martha... I have a metal yardstick, an imitation sword, a plastic pirate hook, 3 pairs of stiletto heels, and a prom dress in my trunk. I AM the weirdo."
Her reply?
"You have a point. Don't hurt anybody... Or, if you do... Make it someone cute, and just wound him so you can bring him home after."
I love her.
This is a running joke for us, ever since I learned that if you are in NH, and you hit something, you get to claim it as yours and take it home.
Watch out.
Just sayin'.
Monday, June 21, 2010
It Starts with The Fixer and Ends with Two Horses
Part One - The Fixer
Okay, so here's a tale with two parts... and may or may not be true. (Though, as per usual, names have been changed in order to protect both the innocent and the guilty. Just sayin').
This is a story for anyone who has ever had a small, or large, fuzzy friend with a speech impediment. (No, I don't mean your cousin Denis. I'm talking about a pet, you n00b).
_________________________________________________________
So on Friday, I was sitting in the Literary Dungeon with Lockheed/Falcor and The Fixer, and this Wolverine-esque hero was resting on his heels (claws retracted for the moment).
He made an insightful comment.
This is something he is wont to do at various times, and leads me to believe that he is secretly (even to himself, no doubt) a Zen Master. This is entirely fitting since the greatest masters generally see themselves as silly and foolish, and as a result they absolutely refuse to take the world or themselves too seriously... And they have the most fun mocking all those people who walk around with 2x4's shoved firmly up their asses.
These wise people generally go about, teasing others and making them laugh out loud at both opportune and inopportune moments. (Naturally, if you were to make such a comment to The Fixer in person he would pantomime a rude activity, laugh, and walk away with an exaggerated swagger in order to cover his embarrassment over being called any such thing as "wise.")
The Fixer? Who is this Zen Master-like individual? I know you must be curious, since it is so unlike me to begin a story with myself as a subordinate character... Has the world gone mad??
No, no, not at all.
You see, I have recently gained employment at Professor Xavier's Saltmine for the Gifted, and The Fixer is on the "A" team (so to speak) of the facility. (I barely made the "B" team, and that's mostly because the coach felt bad for me... You'll see me at the games, sitting on the bench and drinking water, all suited up and no balls to throw--Ha ha... God I'm so juvenile, I still laugh when I hear the word "balls").
Anyway, I say this because I want you to get an accurate picture of the situation, and as you know, I'm all about characters and imagery. In this case, I was in a perfect position to see the reality of my new situation, because I entered the game so late in the year, when patterns had already been firmly established. I met The Fixer early on, and I recognized him immediately. If you'd been there, and been paying attention (as so few people do) you would've spotted him too. He's the guy that actually does all the stuff to make other people's grandiose ideas happen. Naturally, no one seems to appreciate this until he's not around for a few hours... At this point, generally at least 2 people will, at some point, say to someone else...
"I need __________. Where's The Fixer?"
You know the saying, "You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone"? Well, it's a cliche for a reason, my friends.
Anyway, I digress. The real point is the comment he made, which will lead me into the second half of my tale.
I will do my best to quote him accurately, but if the statement comes out sounding slightly less profound than you are expecting after all this build up, believe me, the fault is entirely mine and in no way his.
He said (referring to Lockheed/Falcor), "She's the world's smallest therapist. Everyone needs that."
Simply stated, but true on so many levels.
This struck me as being both insightful and wise, and the words have run through my head at odd moments ever since, especially today.
Funny how the simplest truths are so often taken for granted, don't you think?
And here's the real point... The Fixer managed to say in less than 10 words what I am about to say to you with the entire second half of this story.
Perhaps someday I will be as good as that.
But I'm not holding my breath.
Part Two - The Horses
And now here's "the rest of the story" as a famous man once said.
My father is a caretaker for some very nice people who live in our part of the world. For the past three years, a large part of his responsibility has been to look after the care and feeding of two humongous black and white Clydesdales named, of all things, Ben and Bob.
Ben and Bob, for all their size and magesty, are aptly named. The two bonded instantly with my father, who had never been responsible for horses before. Whenever he arrived at the barn, they would come trotting out to him. If he was in their paddock, they would follow him around like two puppies, and he is the only human they would obey or take orders from. When Bob had colic, and the vet was afraid he would die of it, my father stayed up 24 hours a day with him for almost an entire week, laying on the barn floor, and keeping Bob from rolling and endangering himself.
Ben and Bob love my dad, and he loves them.
Imagine if you can two 3,000 lb., stunningly gorgeous and strong... well, puppies.
Over the course of the two years, I became quite close to those two boys also, and that's how this story comes as a result of The Fixer's comment.
You see, the boys left today.
I didn't cry when they got on their horse-trailer, headed for Wyoming... I was strong. I was me.
But after they left, I had a sudden need to go for an extended drive by myself.
I know... I know... You probably don't get it, so I'll explain further, but in order to do so I may have to tell you some things about myself that you haven't heard before... Please, once you've read it, destroy this communication. I don't want any ninjas to see it.
And don't let it ruin your image of me as a kick-ass, tough-as-cold-iron, heartlessly, ruthlessly evil bitch who doesn't need anyone or anything.
I am, and I don't.
So there.
Here's the deal:
Last April I received a tremendous blow. I found out, quite suddenly, that the Saltmine I was working in was going to be closing. I was absolutely devastated, though I think most people thought that I was fine at the time. Of course, they thought this pretty much because I didn't tell anyone.
No, I'm totally serious.
I told almost no one. You see, I own my house, but the property taxes on that house are almost 8,000 dollars per year, and while my parents pay half (they live on the other side of the duplex) they most definitely can not afford to take up the slack if I am without employment. Not to mention all the other assorted bills, etc. that I pay... oil, cell phone, electricity... You get the idea.
I couldn't tell them that I would be jobless.
I just couldn't.
And since I couldn't tell them... I pretty much couldn't tell anyone.
For two and a half months, I went about everywhere with a sense of dread pressing on me like a hand over a screaming mouth. I counted down the paychecks.
I ended by nearly making myself physically ill.
And I was absolutely lost. There was no one I could confide in. As you know... I walk alone.
I'm tough. I'm the one people rely on. I'm the "dependable" one; the one who does what she's told and doesn't complain. I keep a happy face and take care of other people. I blend in with the wall, and when I'm gone people don't really notice much.
I'm just... there.
Most of the time, I'm cool with this... But it can be hard.
I can handle it, but quite frankly... It absolutely sucks to be alone.
And I felt entirely alone, except for the boys.
On most days, when I left for school, I would leave extra early and drop by the barn.
Frequently I stopped in on my way home as well.
Ben and Bob were always happy to see me. I would walk up to their stalls, and they would come out and stand next to me. I could put my arms around their huge necks and just, rest. I told them everything... and I don't give a shit what anyone says about "not anthropomorphizing" animals... I know they listened. Just about the only time I could forget my abject terror was when I had my head pressed to Ben's or Bob's huge shoulder... Feeling their enormous heartbeats under my hands. That was the only time I could let go of control with no fear of being judged, told what to do, offered useless advice, or worst of all... Pitied.
I despise being pitied. I would rather be hated.
I would even rather be ignored completely... And I LOATHE being ignored.
Those two boys have part of my soul, and I gave it willingly.
Of course, considering the size of my small, dark, evil smelling soul... what they gave me was surely far more valuable.
Well... The story has a happy, yet bittersweet ending.
I managed to get another job exactly one week after school ended last year. On the day I was offered the job, I finally told my mother that I had lost my old one because the saltmine was closing... and as I anticipated, she totally lost her shit. Her question of course had merit. She said, "Were you EVER going to tell us?"
My response, "Only if I had to."
I mean really, what would have been the point? There was nothing anyone could, or would, do to help me. So why worry anyone else? I handled it myself, and it came out okay in the end. What more can anyone hope for?
See what I mean about the Lone Wolf thing? Yeah, I thought so.
Naturally... I utterly despised the new job from day one. But I took it, and I smiled, and I said "Thank you." Because it was what I had to do.
Luckily, some benevolent force in the universe finally took pity on me, and now I am working at Xavier's School for the Gifted.
Best. School. Ever.
It totally fucking ROCKS.
And, like the sands through the hourglass...time rolls on.
But today, Ben and Bob left for Wyoming, and a part of me that I can never have back goes with them.
What do I do without my large, sweet, funny smelling "therapists"?
I have no idea.
Good thing I'm so damn tough.
Afterall... The Pirate Queen rides alone, and to show sadness is to show weakness.
Weakness means death and mutiny.
So I smile and laugh.
And when I feel that empty place inside, I will try to fill it with the battle cry I use when I fall upon a ninja with sword and pistol.
And sometimes it will work.
It's the best I've got for now... and I'll take whatever I can get.
Good bye Ben. Good bye Bob. I love you.
Okay, it's time to wrap this sappy shit up before I drive you to an act of violence... Here goes:
If you, like The Fixer, understand the importance of "tiny therapists" my hat is off to you. You are wise, my friend, and I respect you enough to offer you a place on my ship when the inevitable zombie apocalypse threatens to drown us all in a tide of black bile and twitching body parts.
Thanks for everything.
Your loyal and fearless, (yet oddly clueless)
Pirate Queen
Okay, so here's a tale with two parts... and may or may not be true. (Though, as per usual, names have been changed in order to protect both the innocent and the guilty. Just sayin').
This is a story for anyone who has ever had a small, or large, fuzzy friend with a speech impediment. (No, I don't mean your cousin Denis. I'm talking about a pet, you n00b).
_________________________________________________________
So on Friday, I was sitting in the Literary Dungeon with Lockheed/Falcor and The Fixer, and this Wolverine-esque hero was resting on his heels (claws retracted for the moment).
He made an insightful comment.
This is something he is wont to do at various times, and leads me to believe that he is secretly (even to himself, no doubt) a Zen Master. This is entirely fitting since the greatest masters generally see themselves as silly and foolish, and as a result they absolutely refuse to take the world or themselves too seriously... And they have the most fun mocking all those people who walk around with 2x4's shoved firmly up their asses.
These wise people generally go about, teasing others and making them laugh out loud at both opportune and inopportune moments. (Naturally, if you were to make such a comment to The Fixer in person he would pantomime a rude activity, laugh, and walk away with an exaggerated swagger in order to cover his embarrassment over being called any such thing as "wise.")
The Fixer? Who is this Zen Master-like individual? I know you must be curious, since it is so unlike me to begin a story with myself as a subordinate character... Has the world gone mad??
No, no, not at all.
You see, I have recently gained employment at Professor Xavier's Saltmine for the Gifted, and The Fixer is on the "A" team (so to speak) of the facility. (I barely made the "B" team, and that's mostly because the coach felt bad for me... You'll see me at the games, sitting on the bench and drinking water, all suited up and no balls to throw--Ha ha... God I'm so juvenile, I still laugh when I hear the word "balls").
Anyway, I say this because I want you to get an accurate picture of the situation, and as you know, I'm all about characters and imagery. In this case, I was in a perfect position to see the reality of my new situation, because I entered the game so late in the year, when patterns had already been firmly established. I met The Fixer early on, and I recognized him immediately. If you'd been there, and been paying attention (as so few people do) you would've spotted him too. He's the guy that actually does all the stuff to make other people's grandiose ideas happen. Naturally, no one seems to appreciate this until he's not around for a few hours... At this point, generally at least 2 people will, at some point, say to someone else...
"I need __________. Where's The Fixer?"
You know the saying, "You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone"? Well, it's a cliche for a reason, my friends.
Anyway, I digress. The real point is the comment he made, which will lead me into the second half of my tale.
I will do my best to quote him accurately, but if the statement comes out sounding slightly less profound than you are expecting after all this build up, believe me, the fault is entirely mine and in no way his.
He said (referring to Lockheed/Falcor), "She's the world's smallest therapist. Everyone needs that."
Simply stated, but true on so many levels.
This struck me as being both insightful and wise, and the words have run through my head at odd moments ever since, especially today.
Funny how the simplest truths are so often taken for granted, don't you think?
And here's the real point... The Fixer managed to say in less than 10 words what I am about to say to you with the entire second half of this story.
Perhaps someday I will be as good as that.
But I'm not holding my breath.
Part Two - The Horses
And now here's "the rest of the story" as a famous man once said.
My father is a caretaker for some very nice people who live in our part of the world. For the past three years, a large part of his responsibility has been to look after the care and feeding of two humongous black and white Clydesdales named, of all things, Ben and Bob.
Ben and Bob, for all their size and magesty, are aptly named. The two bonded instantly with my father, who had never been responsible for horses before. Whenever he arrived at the barn, they would come trotting out to him. If he was in their paddock, they would follow him around like two puppies, and he is the only human they would obey or take orders from. When Bob had colic, and the vet was afraid he would die of it, my father stayed up 24 hours a day with him for almost an entire week, laying on the barn floor, and keeping Bob from rolling and endangering himself.
Ben and Bob love my dad, and he loves them.
Imagine if you can two 3,000 lb., stunningly gorgeous and strong... well, puppies.
Over the course of the two years, I became quite close to those two boys also, and that's how this story comes as a result of The Fixer's comment.
You see, the boys left today.
I didn't cry when they got on their horse-trailer, headed for Wyoming... I was strong. I was me.
But after they left, I had a sudden need to go for an extended drive by myself.
I know... I know... You probably don't get it, so I'll explain further, but in order to do so I may have to tell you some things about myself that you haven't heard before... Please, once you've read it, destroy this communication. I don't want any ninjas to see it.
And don't let it ruin your image of me as a kick-ass, tough-as-cold-iron, heartlessly, ruthlessly evil bitch who doesn't need anyone or anything.
I am, and I don't.
So there.
Here's the deal:
Last April I received a tremendous blow. I found out, quite suddenly, that the Saltmine I was working in was going to be closing. I was absolutely devastated, though I think most people thought that I was fine at the time. Of course, they thought this pretty much because I didn't tell anyone.
No, I'm totally serious.
I told almost no one. You see, I own my house, but the property taxes on that house are almost 8,000 dollars per year, and while my parents pay half (they live on the other side of the duplex) they most definitely can not afford to take up the slack if I am without employment. Not to mention all the other assorted bills, etc. that I pay... oil, cell phone, electricity... You get the idea.
I couldn't tell them that I would be jobless.
I just couldn't.
And since I couldn't tell them... I pretty much couldn't tell anyone.
For two and a half months, I went about everywhere with a sense of dread pressing on me like a hand over a screaming mouth. I counted down the paychecks.
I ended by nearly making myself physically ill.
And I was absolutely lost. There was no one I could confide in. As you know... I walk alone.
I'm tough. I'm the one people rely on. I'm the "dependable" one; the one who does what she's told and doesn't complain. I keep a happy face and take care of other people. I blend in with the wall, and when I'm gone people don't really notice much.
I'm just... there.
Most of the time, I'm cool with this... But it can be hard.
I can handle it, but quite frankly... It absolutely sucks to be alone.
And I felt entirely alone, except for the boys.
On most days, when I left for school, I would leave extra early and drop by the barn.
Frequently I stopped in on my way home as well.
Ben and Bob were always happy to see me. I would walk up to their stalls, and they would come out and stand next to me. I could put my arms around their huge necks and just, rest. I told them everything... and I don't give a shit what anyone says about "not anthropomorphizing" animals... I know they listened. Just about the only time I could forget my abject terror was when I had my head pressed to Ben's or Bob's huge shoulder... Feeling their enormous heartbeats under my hands. That was the only time I could let go of control with no fear of being judged, told what to do, offered useless advice, or worst of all... Pitied.
I despise being pitied. I would rather be hated.
I would even rather be ignored completely... And I LOATHE being ignored.
Those two boys have part of my soul, and I gave it willingly.
Of course, considering the size of my small, dark, evil smelling soul... what they gave me was surely far more valuable.
Well... The story has a happy, yet bittersweet ending.
I managed to get another job exactly one week after school ended last year. On the day I was offered the job, I finally told my mother that I had lost my old one because the saltmine was closing... and as I anticipated, she totally lost her shit. Her question of course had merit. She said, "Were you EVER going to tell us?"
My response, "Only if I had to."
I mean really, what would have been the point? There was nothing anyone could, or would, do to help me. So why worry anyone else? I handled it myself, and it came out okay in the end. What more can anyone hope for?
See what I mean about the Lone Wolf thing? Yeah, I thought so.
Naturally... I utterly despised the new job from day one. But I took it, and I smiled, and I said "Thank you." Because it was what I had to do.
Luckily, some benevolent force in the universe finally took pity on me, and now I am working at Xavier's School for the Gifted.
Best. School. Ever.
It totally fucking ROCKS.
And, like the sands through the hourglass...time rolls on.
But today, Ben and Bob left for Wyoming, and a part of me that I can never have back goes with them.
What do I do without my large, sweet, funny smelling "therapists"?
I have no idea.
Good thing I'm so damn tough.
Afterall... The Pirate Queen rides alone, and to show sadness is to show weakness.
Weakness means death and mutiny.
So I smile and laugh.
And when I feel that empty place inside, I will try to fill it with the battle cry I use when I fall upon a ninja with sword and pistol.
And sometimes it will work.
It's the best I've got for now... and I'll take whatever I can get.
Good bye Ben. Good bye Bob. I love you.
Okay, it's time to wrap this sappy shit up before I drive you to an act of violence... Here goes:
If you, like The Fixer, understand the importance of "tiny therapists" my hat is off to you. You are wise, my friend, and I respect you enough to offer you a place on my ship when the inevitable zombie apocalypse threatens to drown us all in a tide of black bile and twitching body parts.
Thanks for everything.
Your loyal and fearless, (yet oddly clueless)
Pirate Queen
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Yup... you guessed it...some random person I'm putting up a picture of...no relation to me at all
Okay fine. It's me.
