Betty Adams's Blog, page 12

Humans are Weird - Kiddie Classes - Audio Narration and Animatic

Humans are Weird - Kiddie Classes “So, anyway,” Fifth Ranger was explaining as he gestured at the broad expanse of skin he had exposed along his abdomen, “that was the day we were doing our stop-drop-and-roll drills. By the time it was my turn to roll, I’d completely forgotten about the bottle I’d hidden, and it broke from the fall. I sure remembered the bottle fast when the glass broke. But I knew I shouldn’t have had it under there, so I didn’t cry or let the teachers know what had happened until the cuts had bled through my shirt, and the teachers saw.”
“Fascinating,” Fourth Cousin said. “You genuinely did not consider massive laceration to your dermal surface a problem?”
“Not one worth getting in trouble for,” Fifth Ranger said with a shrug. “But hey. I was just a kid. My brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders. If you know what I mean.”
“I am constantly amazed by how casual you mammals are about damage to your outer membrane,” Fourth Cousin said, shaking her head as her antennae twitched.
“Our skin’s designed to take a beating,” Fifth Ranger replied. “It’s not that big of a deal. Biological differences and all that.”
“So what is a stop-drop-and-roll drill?” Fourth Cousin asked.
“Training on what to do if our clothes catch fire,” Fifth Ranger said. “It’s about how to smother the flames.”
Fourth Cousin’s antennae curled in horror, and her frill dropped to press against her neck. Fifth Ranger’s lips quirked in a sign of amusement, and he tilted his head to the side.
“Just out of curiosity,” he said, “what about that horrified you?”
“Your training,” she said slowly as her frill began to flutter in confusion, “assumes that small children will catch fire…”
“Accidents do happen,” he said with a shrug.
“Did you ever catch fire?”
“Well, no,” he replied. “But I know what to do if I did.”
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Humans are Weird - Introduction

Humans are Weird - Introduction  Shufflesleft slouched into the rest pool he shared with Touchesroundly and let gravity pull him in towards the warmth of the solar focus, comforting and soothing in the marginally cooler winter season. Just outside of the pool Waggles gave a happy wooph from his containment pool and, from the sounds of it, proceeded to tear into the food Shufflesleft had put there for him. Shufflesleft eased into the warmer water around the solar focus and let several appendages wave in an inviting manner. Touchesroundly, who had only been waiting for the invitation pushed himself up from where he had been writing and swam over.
“What has offended you Friend Shufflesleft?” Touchesroundly asked, drifting down and giving him a soothing pat on his dorsal side.
Shufflesleft took a moment to stretch to his full extent and gather his thoughts before answering.
“I am offended, aren’t I?” he asked letting his appendages wave a bit glumly.
“Was there some doubt?” Touchesroundly asked, with just a hint of amusement in the wriggling of his appendages.
“Some,” Shufflesleft admitted. “It shouldn’t be possible to be offended when a potential new friend is so very friendly.”
“Only a potential new friend?” Touchesroundly asked, perplexity raising his is appendages, “buy you said the potential new friend was friendly?”
“It is confusing,” Shufflesleft said.
Touchesroundly politely spread his appendages and braced against the floor of the pool to absorb the story.
“You know I agreed to take Waggles into the seal-snake socialization area at least every other day for Human Friend Dyson?” Shufflesleft began.
Touchesroundly flicked an appendage in confirmation.
“Well there was a new human there,” Shufflesleft went on. “He … oh what do the humans call it when they match opposite vectors with another focal species?”
“He made eye contact with?” Touchesroundly suggested when it became clear Shufflesleft was struggling in slurry.
“He made eye contact with, at least I think it was a he, the movement profile suggest that,” Shufflesleft went on. “He made eye contact with Waggles and Waggles got all excited and clearly indicated through body language that he wanted to interact with the human and the human clearly indicated that he wanted to interact with Waggles, so I was prepared when the human turned his vision focus cone on me and asked ‘Can I pet him.’ Obviously by context it was Waggles he meant. I said yes of course, and was about to begin introductions when the human completely turned his vision away from me and started talking to Waggles.”
Shufflesleft gave a sad, frustrated little writhe.
“He told Waggles what a beautiful seal-snake he was, and he rubbed his hands all over Waggles head and upper body. He went on for many minutes talking to Waggles, almost, but not quite as if Waggles was sapient and he wanted a response!”
“What did he say to you?” Touchesroundly asked into the long wash of waves that followed this.
“Nothing! Shufflesleft replied in hurt tones. “After he asked for permission to pet Waggles he did not touch, speak to, or even….make eye contact with me! Then another human called him and he darted off.”
“Perhaps he meant to speak to you after he was done speaking to Waggles but the other human prevented it,” Touchesroundly suggested with a soothing pat.
“I do not think so,” Shufflesleft said with slow consideration. “From the cadence and pattern of his voice I doubt he had any intention to redirect his attention.”
“Now Shufflesleft,” Touchesroundly said in a gently reproachful tone. “Do you really think that, despite how attractive a furry, little seal-snake is to them, a human would be so rude as to deliberately interact with the pet belonging to a sapient being without speaking to the sapient being personally?”
“It does seem unlikely,” Shufflesleft admitted. “Still, I think I will query the human psychology database about it tomorrow.”


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Humans are Weird – Fidget Spinning

Humans are Weird – Fidget Spinning “Wing Commander!” Forty-fifth Trills burst into the medical bay at full speed and had to circle the room three times before he could reduce his speed enough to land in a mostly dignified manner.
“And what madness are the humans flitting about this time?” the wing commander asked.
He patiently waited for the young Winged to catch his breath. The excitable lad was inflating and deflating nearly fifty percent with each breath, and his fur was positively fluffed. The idle thought that the humans of the base would find it quite ‘cute’ crossed the commander’s mind as he continued tapping at his report. Forty-fifth Trills finally managed to bring his breathing under control and began hopping around the desk surface in agitation.
“You know that they warned us to not let the humans get bored?” Forty-fifth Trills demanded in the mother tongue.
The commander would have scolded him for using a language that most of the other species of the base couldn’t hear, let alone understand, but he gathered that could wait until the end of the report. Forty-fifth Trills was now quickly summarizing the various reports they had been given of how odd humans were. He seemed to be circling over the concept of boredom. He finally wound up with a summary of human viral tolerances and crouched there, gasping at the commander. The wing commander let a long half-second drag out before glancing at the youth.
“And what exactly,” the wing commander asked, “does this general madness have to do with you bursting into my office at the present moment?”
Forty-fifth Trills stared at him blankly for a moment before rapidly brushing his winghooks over his horns. “There is a possibility that one of the humans has a virus!” Forty-fifth Trills burst out.
The wing commander instantly fluffed with concern. “Has the human self-isolated?” he demanded.
“No!” Forty-fifth Trills stated. “The human insisted he was fine.”
“What makes you conclude he had a virus?” the wing commander asked as he hurriedly began to put his desk in order.
The only thing more wing-stiff than a healthy human was an ill human, but usually a direct order from a ranking officer was enough to send them to rest.
“He vomited!” Forty-fifth Trills informed him with horrified resonances in his voice but fascinated ripples in his neck fur. The wing commander immediately took to flight at that. Forty-fifth Trills took off after him. “The humans are in the lower docking bay.”
“What are they doing there?” the wing commander demanded. “Didn’t they notice that one of their own was evacuating his digestive tract?”
“I am reasonably sure that is what the rest were laughing at,” Forty-fifth Trills explained.
The wing commander hovered and rotated slowly to stare at him. “The humans were not expressing concern over their comrade?” he asked carefully.
Forty-fifth Trills chirped a confused affirmative.
“Humans usually take far more care of their flight-mates than of each other,” he said musingly.
“Yes,” Forty-fifth Trills agreed as they set off down the corridor at a more sedate pace.
They reached the docking bay in question and were greeted by an encouraging chant. The humans were circled around an open space. There were two circles marked out on the floor in tape. In roughly the center of the circles was a human holding a broom and spinning. Their head was bent over to touch the tip of the broom handles to their forehead, their feet danced around the broom, and they spun their center of mass around and around.
Forty-fifth Trills noted one particular human who was a distinctly different shade of health than the rest and pointed him out with a chirp. They flew over to the human. One was Junior Ranger Bryzinke, and they chirped for permission to land on his shoulders. He grinned at them and held out his arm. They landed and crept close to his ear to be heard over the chanting.
“Are you well, Bryzinke?” the wing commander asked.
“Pretty good,” Bryzinke said with a shrug. “I cleaned up the mess I made and drank some water. Fortunately most of them have stronger stomachs than I do.”
“What exactly happened?” the wing commander asked.
The human gave a massive snort of laughter. “What usually happens when a human spins too fast,” he said. “The inner ear objects to the brain, and the brain orders the stomach to punish the body until the spinning stops.”
The chanting suddenly reached a crescendo, and the two spinning humans dropped the brooms and staggered towards a pair of towels, each holding the clutter of a disassembled personal projectile weapon. They fell to their knees and began groping at the parts.
“What are they doing?” the wing commander asked.
“It’s a timed competition,” Bryzinke explained. “I was disqualified for chucking, but Reed there has a real chance to win this. She says she was the base champion back in her cadet days.”
Reed suddenly doubled over and clutched her head with a groan.
“‘Course, those were more than a few years ago,” Bryzinke said with a sympathetic wince.
“I would like you to report to the medical bay so I can scan the results of this game,” the wing commander finally said.
“Sure thing,” Bryzinke said with a nod. “Soon as we’re done here.” Author Betty Adams Books
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Humans are Weird - Found Footage

Humans are Weird - Found Footage Doctor Sieve was happily basking in the patch of sunbeam that the triple insulated window was casting on the floor of his office. Said floor, textured to offer the optimal friction to a range of species was neither very comfortable nor particularly uncomfortable. Once warmed by the short hours of direct sunlight in the winter climes of this world it was a satisfactory basking spot. Still, his eye was open enough to let in a slit of light as he eagerly watched for the moment when the sunbeam would reach his basking stone, imported at no small expense from his homeworld. Once that surface warmed it was the absolute grain of luxury. The trick was to not get impatient. Climbing on before it was properly warmed meant that you had a chilled belly when you expected a warmed brain. No, far better to rest on the indifferent comfort of the warm floor until the basking rock was perfect.
Doctor Sieve was just calculating that the basking rock had warmed to perfection when the ground rattled with the excited approach of the University’s chief archivist’s distinct tread. Doctor Sieve indulged in a heavy sigh and cast a longing look at the nice toasty basking stone as he arranged himself behind his workstation, the door burst open without even a perfunctory tail-slap, or even a slowing of that distinct tread. The chief archivist, only having three whole paws due to a frostbite related accident that he insisted did not merit a prosthetic to correct, had poor vector control at the best of times, in his obviously excited stated he absolutely skittered across the floor, and impacted the wall with a thump that Doctor Sieve could not fail to find amusing.
“Spout you old fool,” Doctor Sieve said, clicking his tongue fondly, “Slow down and ferment a bit before you knock a hole in a load bearing wall with that thick skull of yours.”
Archivist Spout did manage to pause and gave him a toothy grin, a habit picked up from humans that did effectively convey his excitement. He lifted his good fore-paw and his clumsiness was in part explained by the archival canister he was gripping. It gleamed with newness and was precisely marked with the labels of one of the best data reconstruction services available on the planet. Archivist Spout, never in the best of shape, was panting heavily from his run and Doctor Sieve gave him time to calm his lungs before asking any questions. However before Spout was anywhere near normal he gasped out.
“It came in! It finally came in!”
His speech was interrupted by a gurgle as various stomachs were interrupted in their work by the frantic efforts of his lungs.
“Shatar vineyard data- priority – but they – finally!” Archivist Spout grunted out as his attention switched to the canister reader next to Doctor Sieve’s work station.
The archivist scrambled over and shoved it in with a grating click that made Doctor Sieve wince and then the old duff-tail scrambled up on Doctor Sieve’s perfectly warmed basking stone and had the grist to pat it invitingly with his tail. Doctor Sieve suppressed a grumble and scrambled up beside his friend.
“Start the recording! Start the recording,” Archivist Spout gurgled.
A gear caught in Doctor Sieve’s mind as he ordered the device to play.
“These are the recently discovered personal records from Frost Death?” he asked, feeling a bit of excitement stir his own tail.
“Fresh from the data mill!” Archivist Spout confirmed, wriggling on the basking stone in delight.
“A first pressing account of the most pivotal moment between our species and the humans!” Doctor Sieve said as he snuggled into his friend’s side. “Direct documentation of what they valued and considered important during their finest hour on the galactic front.”
They fell silent as the first video resolved and watched eagerly as a mass of tumbling mammalian bodies came on screen. Excitement bleed away into confusion as distinctly non-sapient yelping and growling filtered out of the damaged audio.
“Those are the canids,” Archivist Spout said, disappointment clouding his voice, “the ones that pull the sleds in the snow.”
“They were critical to the rescue efforts on Frost Death,” Doctor Sieve reminded him with a comforting wave of his tail. “These must be the infant stage of the individuals who were assigned to the sleds during the rescue. This is good back end documentation, besides look at how much video must be in this file. The humans would not have dedicated this much storage to only recordings of infant canids.”
Many hours later Doctor Sieve bravely chewed his error. The humans had in fact devoted a singularly large amount of data storage to only recordings of the ‘puppies’ as they were called. There was almost no incident relevant information in the recordings at all. Aside from several puppies wrestling with a broom that was distinctly of his own species make the videos might have been recorded on any planet at any time. Archivist Spout was understandably disappointed but had dutifully posted the recovered data to the University open archive. It was well into the next day with Archivist Spout stalked into Doctor Sieve’s office and slammed his mass into his friend’s side with a sigh.
“Check my citation rate,” Archivist Spout spat out without preamble.
Widening an eye Doctor Sieve pulled up the relevant data and gave a happy grunt.
“My friend!” He exclaimed. “You are now the most cited academic of our day!”
“It’s the puppy videos,” Archivist Spout grumbled. “I have been cultivating relevant archives for generations without attention and now I post a cluster of videos of non-sapient mammals frolicking and everyone knows my name.”
Doctor Sieve fought back a gurgle of amusement and indicated the species of most of the citations.
“At least we now have a deeper understanding of what information the humans value,” he said, not quite keeping the gurgle out of his voice.


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Humans are Weird - Empty Your Pockets

Humans are Weird - Empty Your Pockets Fifth Sister was sorting the various bandage volumes when Forty-three Trills flew into the medical ward and landed on a shelf above her with an exaggerated sigh. As he didn’t signal for her attention, she continued slipping the tubes into their assigned slots.
It was very useful, she mused. That the liquid bandages were so versatile. Save for a few rare humans with overactive immune systems, the carbohydrate mix was an excellent source of protection for most injured membranes. She had just finished slotting the plain tubes into the storage area and had begun to arrange the nutrient additions by target species when Forty-three Trills emitted another loud sigh and flung himself chest down across the shelf so that his head was in her view, but as his binocular eyes were pointed at the comparative anatomy chart on the wall, she continued her task. When he flipped over onto his back and proceeded to emit another sigh, she closed the cabinet and turned her center of mass to face him.
“Can I help you with something, Forty-three Trills?” she asked.
He gave another sigh and flipped over, crossing his winghooks under his chin and staring at her with what she assumed was a sad expression.
“Do Shatar have built-in transport pouches?” he asked in a tone that was noticeably too high for the human staff to hear.
“In our environmental suits of course,” she replied. “However in our daily clothing we only wear a wrap to cover our reproductive core, and there is not sufficient structural integrity to support transport pouches. So, no.”
She did not inform him that most Shatar made the choice to avoid the stronger wraps for the explicit purpose of keeping the Winged and Trisk from asking for transport. Pointing out his species’ general rudeness wasn’t something to do when a patient was obviously emotionally depressed.
“You probably wouldn’t understand then,” the Winged said, rolling over onto his back with another sigh.
“Are you emotionally distressed, Forty-three Trills?” she asked. It was obvious that he was, but she had found that illustrating her own ignorance was usually the best way to get an alien talking about a sensitive subject.
“A wing’s thickness,” he admitted as he began to gloomily groom his sensory horns.
“Would you like to inform me of the reason?” Fifth Sister asked.
“I think one of the humans is angry with me,” Forty-three Trills said.
“What do you base this observation on? Has the human behaved aggressively towards you?”
“No,” the Winged went on in a sad tone, “he just blocked me.”
The Shatar was confused and covered it by flicking her dabber out to clean her eyes quickly. “He prevented you from accessing his nonemergency communications account?”
“No,” the Winged went on, “he physically blocked me.”
The Shatar strained to bring the lines together. “I do not understand.”
The Winged gave a long, drawn-out sigh that expanded him to nearly half again his size and flopped over a few times to arrange his wings.
“Over the course of the past few weeks, he has been filling his pelvic transport pouches with various small items,” the Winged explained. “It was interesting at first. Then it was awkward. Today it reached the point that I could no longer fit inside with all of the collected items. It is fairly clear that he is upset with me for something I have done to offend him.”
The Winged suddenly leapt up and began darting around the room, chittering in distress. The Shatar watched him in concern for a time, tilting her triangular head from side to side to keep him in her field of vision. Meanwhile she had her fingers busy with her datapad, pulling up one of the psychological files on humans she recalled from her training. When he had burned off enough of his distress, he fluttered back to the shelf.
“I just wish I knew what I had done to offend him,” he said with a tired little chirp. “You know how important social presence is to us Winged, and with only a wing’s worth on the base and none of us from the same flight, human transport pouches are just about the closest thing to home we have.”
“Are you quite certain that this behavior has anything to do with you or your behavior?” she asked.
“What else could it be?” the Winged demanded. “Nothing has changed on the base environment to alter his behavior.”
“Save that he has been the only human on the base for some time since the geological expedition left for the northern hemisphere,” Fifth Sister said. “Perhaps this might be a symptom of his hoarding instinct activating due to the stress of isolation. I have heard of such things.”
“Do you think?” the Winged asked, perking up immediately.
“I think it would be best if you opened a line of communication directly with him,” Fifth Sister stated firmly. “However I have heard of this process of slowly filling your pockets with the accumulation of interesting objects you find during the day.”
“It does appear to be a collection of shiny things,” Forty-three Trills observed. “It is mostly broken bolts and scraps of the reflective covers. Humans do have an odd affinity for shiny things.”
“That is common in species that depend on open water for hydration,” she affirmed. “However my literature suggests that such a manifestation of this was limited to children. If it is the same response, it seems to be inadvertent, and he might respond to a simple question.”
Forty-three Trills nodded slowly even as his kinetics became more energetic as his mood rose. “I will ask him. Thank you for the analysis, Fifth Sister.”
She flicked her frill in acknowledgment and resumed sorting the additives as the Winged left the room. She did not choose to share the information with the Winged, but reversion to childhood behaviors was often a sign of stress. She wondered if the human required the medically recommended application of snuggles and who on the base would be the best to provide them.


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Humans are Weird – Neighborly

 Humans are Weird – Neighborly First Sister was reminding herself, for the third time this morning, that humans – mammals that they were – developed a bit slower than Shatar. She gave a final firm tug on the tape that secured the new branch to the understory fruit bush, and bent over her workbasket to line her thoughts up before she turned to Human Second Cousin Betty.
“Are you quite ready to move on to the next shrub?” First Sister asked, being very, very careful not to sound annoyed.
Human Second Cousin Betty started up suddenly from where she had been studying a local insect in fascination. Her pheromone profile flushed the air with just enough stress to let First Sister know that she had failed in keeping her irritation to herself, but the human only smiled and quickly shoved her tools into her bag. First Sister very carefully ignored the indisputable fact that Human Second Cousin Betty ignored the specially made holsters for each tool and simply tossed all the tools in the bottom of the bag, where they would damage each other and make it much harder for the human to find them again. That was not a useful thing to point out however. The human made tools were ridiculously sturdy.
Despite her obvious stress a moment before Human Second Cousin Betty was cheerfully singing to herself by the time the crossed the short distance to the next fruit bush. The human thrust her hand down into the bag and rooted around for the tool utterly without care for the skin on her fingers. First Sister fought back a wince and reminder herself again that human skin was much more resilient that Shatar outer membrane. Human Second Cousin Betty finally gave a satisfied grunt and pulled out out a set of hand worked mechanical clippers, she gave a few test clicks, for some reason she considered this necessary every time she pulled them out of bag, and looked at First Sister expectantly.
First Sister considered the plant and chose a stem of the correct age. “This one!” she said tapping the wood.
With, a speed and skill that seemed wildly beyond her overall maturity level Human Second Cousin Betty set to work trimming the stem of excess branches, clearing the other stems around it, and tossing all the extra biomatter into a pile to the side. This part of the grafting would have taken First Sister much longer and she was grateful to have the human’s help, even if Human Second Cousin Betty had a tendency to mentally wander off when she wasn’t actively using the clippers. First Sister took her razor thread and cut into the stem.
“Hold this,” she requested.
Human Second Cousin Betty carefully pried apart the halves of the stem and First Sister reached into her bad and pulled out the new branch, a different fruit, far more magnesium rich. She placed the new cutting in the existing stem. Human Second Cousin Betty release the stem and its own force was enough to hold the new graft in place while First Sister wound the tape around it.
“So what’re we having for dinner at the hive?” Human Second Cousin Betty asked.
“Your First Father said that you are not staying for dinner,” First Sister reminded her with half an antenna as her fingers continued wrapping the tape. “Along after that we do not have meals at the hive.”
“I know,” Human Second Cousin Betty said rolling her eyes, “but we are staying and I want to know what there is to graze on when I get hungry.”
“The gourd-mushrooms are in full bloom,” First Sister said. “You enjoy those correct?”
“They taste like chicken!” Human Second Cousin Betty agreed with a nod.
“Why do you think you are staying?” First Sister asked as she finished the wrap and gave it one last touch to be sure it was solid.
In response Human Second Cousin Betty pointed to Human First Father who had come into view around a particularly dense stand of grass. He was walking with one of the free ranging Human Grandfathers who lived deeper in the undeveloped forest. The new human had a long ragged fringe of hair that seemed to consume his head and upper arms. His clothing was tattered and fraying. He looked, to any Shatar, like someone half dead, but his walked with the full confidence of a healthy human and in his hand he clutched a preposterously heavy stick.
“I see the visiting Grandfather,” First Sister said as they walked towards the next bush, “but what does that have to do with your departure time?”
“Did you see how they were talking?” Human Second Cousin Betty demanded as she started skipping after First Sister. “Once Daddy gets going like that with one of the forest neighbors he won’t stop till he gets hungry. He had a big lunch too. He’s probably not going to come out of the tall grass until after the sun goes down.”
First Sister flicked an antenna over her eye at that, but Human Second Cousin Betty would know her own father she supposed.
“If he is going to loose track of time perhaps we can get First Aunt to fry him some gourd-Mushrooms?” she suggested.
“Oh yeah!” Human Second Cousin Betty agreed as she pulled out her clippers and gave them an experimental click.




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Why Does This Show Like Villains Better - Transformers: EarthSpark Season 1 The Battle of Witwicky

Why Does This Show Like Villains Better - Transformers: EarthSpark Season 1 The Battle of Witwicky
https://youtu.be/TyihTuFYnzg?si=RewIPRlkIDyDl1P-
#TFES #OptimusPrime #Megatron #Maltos #Croft




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Why Does This Show Like Villains Better - Transformers: EarthSpark Season 1 The Battle of Witwicky
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#TFES #OptimusPrime #Megatron #Maltos #Croft Author Betty Adams Books
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Transformers: EarthSpark Season 1 The Battle of Witwicky – Warped Black and White Morality

Transformers: EarthSpark Season 1 The Battle of Witwicky – Warped Black and White Morality
https://youtu.be/wEDGsVilUYw?si=sHE83N2I570-5RJY
#TFES #OptimusPrime #Megatron #Maltos #Croft




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Transformers: EarthSpark Season 1 The Battle of Witwicky – Warped Black and White Morality
https://youtu.be/wEDGsVilUYw?si=sHE83N2I570-5RJY
#TFES #OptimusPrime #Megatron #Maltos #Croft Author Betty Adams Books
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Humans are Weird - Due Date

​Humans are Weird – Due Date Repost for Animatic: 


“Can’t tonight, Trills,” Susan said as she swept a handful of protein bars into one of her overly large pockets. “I got a deadline.”
Ten-Trills ran a quick hook over his sensory horns to hide his offense. She had given him an open invitation to use her pockets for midday nesting, and then she kept them in such disorder. It was very confusing.
“I am sorry to hear that,” Ten-Trills informed her when he had his fur smoothed. “Did the central coordinators send you another emergency packet?”
“Nah,” Susan said as she selected a rather worrying number of stimulants from those displayed on the counter. “It’s just that report on the protein yields on that hybrid from Tau Gamma Seven.”
“Were you not assigned that report six months ago?” Ten-Trills asked.
“Yeah,” Susan said as she tossed a final muffin into her pockets, “but it’s not done till tonight at midnight.”
“How much do you have left to do?”
“Enough to keep me busy till midnight,” Susan said as she strode out of the room. “See you tomorrow, Trills.”
Ten-Trills watched her go as he mulled over the many recreational hours they had spent together at Susan’s behest. Hopefully there would not be too many crumbs in her pockets when she (hopefully) finished her report. ​Kobo By Rakuten
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https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/ldquo-humans-are-weird-betty-adams/1144386816
Story Tel
https://www.storytel.com/se/sv/books/4673861
Libro ​
https://libro.fm/audiobooks/9798868773952

Google Play Books
https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details/Betty_Adams_Humans_are_Weird_We_Took_a_Vote?id=AQAAAEASKmVqZM Author Betty Adams Books
Amazon! 
Barnes & Noble
Powell's Books
Google Play Books
Kobo By Rakuten Youtube
BitChute
Odysee
Rumble 
Veoh

Humans are Weird: We Took a Vote Now Available on Audiobook

Humans are Weird: We Took a Vote Now Available on Audiobook
​Kobo By Rakuten
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/audiobook/humans-are-weird-we-took-a-vote-1


Chirp Books
https://www.chirpbooks.com/audiobooks/humans-are-weird-we-took-a-vote-by-betty-adams


Nook by Barnes & Noble
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/ldquo-humans-are-weird-betty-adams/1144386816


Story Tel
https://www.storytel.com/se/sv/books/4673861


Libro ​
https://libro.fm/audiobooks/9798868773952
​


Google Play Books
https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details/Betty_Adams_Humans_are_Weird_We_Took_a_Vote?id=AQAAAEASKmVqZM Author Betty Adams Books
Amazon! 
Barnes & Noble
Powell's Books
Google Play Books
Kobo By Rakuten Youtube
BitChute
Odysee
Rumble 
Veoh