The Overworked Mailman

[Written Round Robin style in October 2017. Four coauthors. Some small corrections, but mostly untouched.]

Yesterday I got into a fight with my mailman. He tried to tell me that I was ordering too many oversized packages. I was told in no uncertain terms where I could put any further packages - and it wasn't in the mail room. He told me I had to put them in my grandma.

Once I told my grandma about this, she went for her gun in the closet. Grandma was always sensitive over the size of her vagina. I watched her waddle with disgust, her labia lips clearly slapping her knees with each step. It was a sound I'd heard my whole life, I knew she was pissed... but I had also noticed the piss streaming down her leg - time to clean that up.

Slithery Surprise

"Fuck you, you slithery son of a bitch!" I screamed in terror as I kicked at a snake with my pants around my ankles. I let out a few more choice curses as the bendy bastard eluded my kicks but wouldn't leave the strike zone of an angry man on a toilet.

Finally, finally, it made its way under a cabinet so I could perform a quick wipe and regain a full range of motion. I stared the cabinet down as I quickly washed my hands. I soon after began a quest to arm myself against the intruder, toilet unflushed.

My immediate options were limited. Toilet brush? Plunger? Neither really fit the bill, but really, what in the house would? I didn't exactly have a side gig of snake-wrangling that I could go open the toolbox and have all my snake-catching gear available.

I picked up the plunger and made a quick list of non-toilet options. Hammer? Maybe I could use it sideways? A knife probably wasn't the answer, nor was a grilling fork. Anything without a handle was probably a no-go as well, so what was left? A broom?

I could probably flush (heh) the beast out and pin it with the bristles of my little broom, then smack it with a hammer. Maybe. Hopefully. If I were quick.

Wary of letting the thing loose, I went to gather supplies.

---

A fifteen minute sprint, written 27 September 2017.

The Good Shit

Earlier today, I strolled into my office with a great gust of energy. Everyone looked up from their desks to see what all the commotion was - mostly because that gust of energy took the form of me creating a me-sized hole in the door.

Teeth clenched and asshole puckered, I ejaculated an expletive before praising this particular potion. I mentioned a few nearby coworkers should also partake of it at some future time, emphasizing my point by shattering their desks with a few healthy pounds of my fist.

My coworkers convinced me that I should certainly share my enthusiasm with the world and so that's what I did. A few hours and many unhinged doors later, I think I made my point in most of the shops around town.

This shit's fantastic.

After a few hours, I felt the effects wearing off, so I blasted my way home to create and consume another batch. Alas, my glassware kept shattering if I so much as looked at it for too long, so I didn't get to make another batch.

So now I'm writing you this note to see if you have some to spare - please make sure it arrives before the police!

---

A fifteen minute writing sprint from 27 September 2017.

Things my Housemates Do

Taking this blog back to its roots: a place to complain about things.

Things my housemates do:

Moldy milk at the bottom of a "clean" cup

• Throw silverware in the silverware drawer without regard to knives, forks, etc.
• Stack plates on top of bowls (instead of putting them with the other plates).
• Hoard any cup larger than 8oz in their room.
• Leave hair in the shower drain.
• Stack the five? ten? pound cast-iron dutch oven on top of a tupperware container.
• Use the last of a common item (e.g. aluminum foil) and not tell anyone.
• Break something (e.g. many, many pint glasses) and not tell anyone (and just leave the debris).
• Keep the TV on at all times.
• Keep the TV tuned to reality television at all times.
• Throw plastic bags in the recycling bin.
• Leave change everywhere.
• Leave time on the microwave.
• Complain, but never strive to improve.
• Leave cold water on the coffee table, so condensation makes a huge puddle.

Bastrabots

"Oy! Slinks!"

"Slinks? Fuck." The bastrabots trudged toward us, guns armed and aiming systems active.

"Wove livt if we hised earlier." My caddy wonced. I felt the same, but knew better than take him in.

"Nah, will live still! Holep, raliket." I holept raliket fuckin' out, scurry scrounge down the alley, rite far from the bastrabots. Jack rocketed up my ass, raliket.

Weez got to some guvvie bins, what we know the bots won't touch. Grantya, wir rectere to touchem, what we smellem, but our choices ain't aboundin. Wove hised elsewhere if we could, but meetcha whereat. We dug in abrip.

Breathin ain't easy in a bin - don't want the bots to findya, don't want the tummy wasions none neither. We wait, hopin, prayin, and tryin not to toss.

Bastrabots aren't the smarts none though and they past soonish. We smelt, but we livt.

---

A fifteen minute sprint using markov-chain generated words.

On the Level

"I swear it's level," I shot back, level-in-hand.

"It doesn't look all that level - it looks like the left side's just a bit higher than the right." Hands-on-hips, covered in small splotches of paint, my wife had assumed the 'I'm going to win this argument' pose. I sighed and let a beat pass before responding.

"By all objective measure, the painting is level. The bubble was dead center. The measuring tape shows that it's exactly the same distance from both floor and ceiling on both sides. This thing would win awards for being level. I should win an award for leveling it! I can't believe you don't agree."

"Well, it still doesn't look level to me, and that's what matters." I knew where this was going to end and I knew I had to play my part. After one more round of objection, I gave in and began to move the damn thing around. Naturally, I had to move it as she watched from a few feet away - had she adjusted it it wouldn't count as a win in her book.

"There! Perfect!" She delighted after fifteen minutes of directing me to bump one corner, then the other. I was released from service, having hung an obviously crooked painting. It was a small price to pay for a happy wife.

---

A fifteen minute sprint, written 8 October '17.

Crazy Butts

"Those are some crazy butts," the Commander stated as he peered out the window. "Crazy, crazy, crazy."

"Yes, sir," the Secretary agreed. He might as well have been speaking in a vacuum as the Commander took no notice. The secretary sighed and got up from the desk, joining the older man at the window.

"I wish I had a camera right now. I'd love to capture those butts." An impulse to let the Commander know his phone had a camera washed over the Secretary, but the young man surpressed it. Both men stared out the window for a few minutes. Finally, a stomach gurgle broke the silence.

An Unexpected Union [5]

Bartholomew melted into the muddy ground, eyes the size of dinner plates. He clutched at his rifle as if it were to be his salvation. Even if he had ammunition, the bent weapon in his hands would likely not live up to this hope.

General Tso's Battle

[Written Round Robin style in August 2017. Many coauthors. Some small corrections, but mostly untouched.]

I looked at the general, eyes popping out of my head. “Will that be enough to finally stop them?” I asked. My heart fell as I saw one of his dirt-caked hands reach out toward me. He was missing his other arm; it was lost in the battle. I lamented to the general, Tso, “will you still be able to prepare your delicious chicken dish?”

Drama In and Out Of the Lab [3]

"Holy shit! What happened here?" Gene stood at the door, mouth agape. He stared at the carnage inside the room. "My god man! You're covered in blood!"

Dick took a second to assess his situation. Not only was he covered in blood and viscera, the whole room was now similarly decorated.

A Strange Request at a Piano Bar [1]

Ray: "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"
Man: "I thought my request was pretty simple. I'd like the two of you to battle to the death."
Ray: "Sir, we're dueling pianos in a 'playing entertaining music' sort of way. We don't actually duel or anything."
Man: "I brought ceremonial daggers!"

Options

"What kyna roast?" the barista stated.

I stared, unprepared for the question. A pause and a look ensued.

"Dark, medium, light. What kyna roast?"

"Oh, uh, dark?"

"Great. NEXT!"

Frumpy dipped a dabble down

Frumpy dipped a dabble down. Rain and wet and bloodred ground. Eyes askew he sat on bum, very far from aplomb, sadness wet and drippy.

Frumpy'd rode and heaved hell hard. Pushed and cracked and worked the yard. Moved'm tons mile and mile, but nary once a meager smile, shoulders grunched and gloppy.

Bureaucracy

"I live to stamp, sir."

"Oh?" I wasn't sure what, if anything, I should object to - living versus existing, 'stamping' being a play on 'serving', or even the double-whammy of changing 'live' to 'love', which only raised the issue of a created being's ability to feel love.

Twas the Night Before Friday

[Written Round Robin style in March 2017. Many coauthors. Some small corrections, but mostly untouched. You decide if anyone knew how rhyming couplets work!]

Twas the night before Friday, and all through the Coop, the redditors gathered to consume some soup. I looked over the menu, in search of something tasty. I needed a menu item clarified, so I asked the guy next to me - yeah, the guy that's pasty. When I looked in my hand, I saw that I had a beer, a wine, and a whiskey that's bland. And then, all of the sudden I heard my favorite band. Radio isn't dead, at least not the FM band!

So I jumped to my feet as the funky music blared, not one person noticed - no one cared! I'm disappointed Simon didn't paint the Eagles on the side of his car. But Jesse gave no fucks, as he talked to Nihar.

An Assessment

Where am I at today? I feel like it's another glass-half-empty day, though there's no real reason to feel that way (other than, perhaps, a bit of a hangover). My objectives of the day were: do my taxes (complete), go to Cooperage (complete), bring my laundry up from the basement (to be completed), and podcast (failed). I'm in a weird place emotionally; I feel like my insides are being squeezed. I'm a mess - and unwarranted stress and the feeling of not having accomplished anything twist me up inside.

The doodle on this particular document.

I must produce something soon something soon. It feels like every obligation - from eating to laundry to friends to work - is a fishhook ripping at my skin as I try to walk forward. I am impatient for success but lazy in pursuit. This impatience, however, has not bred haste; rather it's only fed frustration, planting a seed around which other stresses have grown. Around which my waistline has grown.

The Squire

I was sweating so much even shifting my weight produced an audible squish as the soaked padding squeezed between iron and flesh. It was at this point I realized I just wanted him to kill me.

Him, of course, referring to Sir Kim. A master swordsman from the orient, he had come to our little section of the world to challenge the best fighters we had to offer. A tripartite pursuit of knowledge, fame, and wealth had thus far earned him a reputation in hundreds of taverns, scores of courts, and dozens of languages. He was undefeated and, I suspected, would remain so after this particular fight.

Entropy

Entropy, amusingly, creates crystal and chaos. It takes all matter and reduces it slowly to its most stable form. This is often called its "ground state".

Tom was feeling his ground state this morning. He strained to open one eye to survey his surrounds - he knew he was on a carpeted floor, but wasn't entirely sure whose floor it was. The lanky man did his best to push through his half-dream haze to recall what had happened the previous evening. For every certain memory, however, a half dozen false memories had to be flushed out - he was certain, for example, that he hadn't done shots with his ninth-grade biology teacher, but he was certain shots had been involved.

Curiosity Rover

[Third of three. Written Round Robin style on 16 Feb '17. JM & WW coauthors. Some small corrections, but mostly untouched.]

Few enthusiasts remembered the original Curiosity Rover, one of the earliest unmanned missions to Mars. It had been nearly a century since its last transmission - or, at least, since we had received a transmission. That is why the lab was in a frenzy - we had received a transmission!

The frequency was ancient, as far as anyone knew, but NASA didn't receive this one - it came from SETI.

"Sir! We've finally decoded the signal!"

Inspiration art by me.

Butts. Buttholes

Butts. Buttholes. Fucky shitwits. Groaning gut guzzlers. Fucking five finger flowmax furbies. Suck monsters. Major dickwad. Duncan dipshit. Double dick Derek decides dumb drumroll - PLEASE! Hunkajunk funky bunch in the trunk. Farts.

---

Might have a bit of writer's block. Wrote this instead of writing. Now I'm posting this instead of writing.

Keith's Shame

[Second of three. Written Round Robin style on 16 Feb '17. JM & WW coauthors. Some small corrections, but mostly untouched.]

Keith was never very good at dealing with shame.

"I can't fucking believe she'd share that," he groaned. His secret life as a cult leader had crept into his normal, ordinary life in this suburban town. It seemed everywhere he went, all eyes were on him.

Inspiration Art by WW

Portal Crotch

[First of three. Written Round Robin style on 16 Feb '17. JM & WW coauthors. Some small corrections, but mostly untouched.]

I stared my crotch right in the face, knowing damn well what it was up to. The knocking told my crotch that it was to start the ceremony. The guests were the best Craigslist had to offer, but really, you get what you pay for. Let's face it though, my crotch didn't have much money. The door swung open slowly, revealing two men and a woman.

"Are you Keith? Your girlfriend promised discretion..."

Inspiration Art by JM

On Gerrymandering

I used to have a political blog, but now I don't, so I'll post this here:

I've been seeing a lot of talk about redistricting and gerrymandering recently. To my reform-minded friends of all stripes, might I suggest that redistricting is only a small part of the puzzle and arguably both the least important and least likely to succeed.

The easiest and most likely to succeed reform we can make for our single-member district system is to require a MAJORITY of the vote. Right now, in every election, we have a system called "First Past The Post" - you get the most votes and you win. This creates the spoiler problem we're all familiar with - if you vote for the candidate you want to win, it's possible that you draw votes away from your second choice (see: the rhetoric against Stein and Johnson this past election). This shouldn't happen and it's easily fixed. Contact your State representatives (NOT Federal - I really mean the people who are in your State capital) and ask for legislation to require a majority of votes in single-member district elections.

Much harder but much more important is to push for some form of PROPORTIONAL REPRESENTATION. Go ahead and look at election results in your area by party. Now look at the makeup of Congress. Look at the makeup of your State legislature. Look at the makeup of your city/county legislative body. It's weird that none of them match the votes, right? If citizens vote for 40% Pizza Party, 35% Birthday Party, and 25% Bachelor Party, we would expect the legislature to match the preference of the citizens, not gamed so that, say, Birthday Party has 55% of the seats. I hesitate to dwell on recommendations for proportional representation, but I did want to bring it to your attention - it would, after all, make gerrymandering obsolete.

*** Philadelphia Friends, we could institute a system called "Mixed Member Proportional Representation" in Philadelphia City Council which would open the door to better and more diverse representation with ease. Our Council and our voting machines are already set up for it - with 10 districts and 7 at-large members, it's as easy as flipping a switch. ***

Reformist friends, you have my apologies for the length of this post. I'm also sorry I don't have cool graphics or a catchy "the second way to improve democracy will SHOCK you!" headline that might make you "Like & Share!". But I felt it was important to get this out there.

I'll gladly talk your ear off about voting systems at any time - that's what I have my degree in, after all - but assuming you want to hear it from someone who's not me, I do highly recommend checking out CGP Grey's YouTube series on "Politics in the Animal Kingdom".

So, fight your fight against Gerrymandering - it's important to do so! But make sure to add Majority (easier) and Proportional Representation (more important) to your list of "fightin' words".

"Costis' Room"

He returned to his room, crestfallen, the day's events weighing heavily on his heart. He was the King's man, but he took no pleasure in today's particular duties.

The muscular man eased himself onto his bed, wincing with each small movement. He rubbed some salve onto the scrapes and smaller wounds not already bandaged by the temple's healer a short time earlier. He squeezed away the shill in his hands and lit two more candles at his beside, vowing to light his small fireplace in a moment or two.

"Ben's House"

Her hands trembled uncontrollably and she felt moments away from being sick. Still though, she approached the door, scuffing closer as only a nine-year-old can. She promised Ben she'd come visit, but she never expected his house to be so spooky! Spooky or not, she had walked all the way here from town, through the woods, and over the old stone bridge, and she didn't want to make the whole trip without at least saying hello.

"H-hello?" she squeaked at the door, standing eight feet back. She waited a moment for a response before making her next move.