Betty Adams's Blog, page 78

Thursday Thought-To The Store

Apparently there is an acceptable upper limit to the number of carrots and eggs it is socially appropriate to request when someone says;
"I'm going into town, Do you want anything?" 
Apparently five-dozen eggs and ten pounds of carrots exceeds that limit. 

Paracord Parasite

Parasite Paracord

​
Sometimes you really have to wonder how the human brain works.
I don’t remember how the dream started, but there I am standing on my uncle’s back porch gripping the head of my sleeping bag. A life sucking alien parasite has camouflaged itself as a thirty foot length of paracord and has attached itself to the foot of my sleeping bag with the clear intent of sucking the life out of me while I sleep. I rush around the house to a large ornamental fire pit. The kind that is a satellite shaped metal grate with metal art of deer and elk and such around the base. I toss the parasite-paracord alien into the grate still attached to my sleeping bag and search my pockets for a lighter.
The alien is doing a really good impression of paracord all things considered. Only it is about three times too thick, a little worn in places and changes from color to color along its length. Also it keeps moving a little.
I find a battered blue lighter in my pocket. I frown. I am worried it won’t light. Firstly I am not skilled at getting the kind with the traditional metal thumb switch to light. It hurts my thumb. Secondly I seem to remember that this is either the lighter I found under a snowbank or the one that went through the washer.
I glance nervously at the coiled paracord-parasite in the fire pit. When I glance back at the lighter it is not only lit but the entire top is in flame and it has set some surrounding flammables on fire. I suspect I should be concerned about a possible explosion but decide that the still moving parasite is the larger concern. I hold the flaming lighter under the grate and catch the coiled body of the paracord-parasite on fire.
It lights easily and burns like any nylon would. I watch it burn with relief until I feel the searing pain in my left hand. (Whoever says you can’t feel pain in your dreams is crazy.) I glance over and to my horror the other end of the paracord-parasite has latched itself onto my hand. I go to knock it off but there are a few problems. First of all my right hand is still holding the flaming lighter. I don’t want to just get my right hand trapped against the parasite as well.
I should find a stick or something to knock it off of my hand because not only is it sucking the life out of me it is on fire.
Then my alarm clock went off. Just a dream. Right, no problem. Except this is the first time in weeks I actually slept till my alarm clock went off. I usually wake about ten minutes before. Then my arms and legs felt like lead. I was utterly exhausted at the start of the day. I made it (late) to work and laughed about it with my crewmates. Then because of the type of shirt I wear I got a tan line across my hand in the exact place the dream paracord-parasite had grabbed me.
The human brain is a funny thing. 


Paracord: Parachute cord, paracord, para-cord or 550 cord are all names to describe a lightweight nylon kernmantle rope originally used as suspension lines of U.S. parachutes. The 550 cord consists of a 32 strand woven nylon outer sheath with an inner core of seven, 2 ply nylon yarns.

Context-less Quotes From My Day Job

Note: These are all from today.



“You try getting a receipt from the Communist Party of China!”

“Hey, buddy, what shape are fruit bat teeth?”

“How is it possible for a human to produce that volume of mucus?”

“Now, for the sake of efficiency, we just walk up and give the reproductive organs a good pinch.”

“Oh yes! In fact, I’m all sloshy.”

“Then he pulled out a Big Mac.”
​
“I knew this day would come. I just didn’t expect it to be today. I’m not ready.” 

Humans are Weird - Contagious Behavior

Humans are Weird – Contagious Behavior


​“The humans are a terrible influence on the Undulates!” Forty-Seven Clicks spat out as he fluttered to a landing beside Quilx’tch.
“Oh really?” Quilx’tch asked as he adjusted his foot coverings over locomotion legs for the fifth time that day. “I hadn’t noticed.”
The Hellbat glared at him though narrow eyes.
“How can you not have noticed!” Forty-Seven Clicks hissed out. “I know for a fact that those contraptions are for keeping that surfactant off of your skin!”
“Exoskeleton,” Quilx’tch corrected him. “And I was attempting to use sarcasm.”
“Oh please don’t,” groaned the Hellbat. “I don’t think I can stand any more human madness spreading to other species today.”
Quilx’tch didn’t bother apologizing. Both he and his colleague were all too aware of the general rule that strongly dissuaded them from actively discouraging play between the species after work and there was no doubt that the humans and Undulates were having a blast playing with the new toy the humans had introduced.
“I am going out to observe the situation,” Quilx’tch stated grimly. “Do you wish to assist me?”
“There is no way,” Forty-Seven Clicks hissed. “That I am going out there until this is over. You land-bound folk cannot understand.”
Quilx’tch whished for a moment he could roll his eyes. Having eight of them would no doubt make the gesture even more meaningful but satisfied himself with bristling his hair and stalking out. It was a fairly long walk from his office to the ponds where the Undulates and humans recreated but long before he got there the foot coverings were serving their purpose as he avoided the sticky patches on the ground. He flinched back as his eyes caught and magnified the glistening ‘bubble’ that floated over his head, but he soldiered on gamely. Soon the sound of laughing and trilling met his ears and he hurried forward to the safe tree that had been set up near the ponds for his use. The grips were mostly sticky with the residue of the humans’ game but he managed to find a secure perch as he observed the game in progress.
A few of the humans stood at one end of the pond using the directional force of their mammalian lungs to ‘blow’ atmosphere through soap covered loops. This formed the ‘bubbles’ that drifted on the wind over the pond. In the water the majority of the Undulates were frisking about at their maximum speed chasing the bubbles. A few Undulates had taken up the bubble wands and were vigorously waving them over their bodies in an attempt to form the bubbles. The crowd rumbled with every known sign of delight and pleasure for the two species.
Quilx’tch shuddered and crept closer to the trunk of the tree as one of the bubbles drifted close to him. He saw his own eight eyes reflected in an opalescent ghost and fought the urge to flee in panic. Understanding differences is why I am out here instead of with my home swarm, he reminded himself firmly. The humans are enjoying themselves and I will figure out why. 

Author Observation - Robert Louis Stevenson

There are quite literally ZERO gun toting lasses in the book. I highly doubt the author authorized this cover art. Most readers have rather fond memories of Robert Louis Stevenson. They come mostly from the classic work "Treasure Island". Probably most of us were exposed to it in the form of the classic Disney live action movie or the sci-fi remake. 
What many don't know is that good old Stevenson could get quite dark. His work, "The Ebb-Tide for instance is saturated with physical and moral decay from page one to the end. There are scenes that would earn this a hard R rating in any movie format. There is of course a moral of sorts at the end, if you squint a bit. But like Hemingway and London the old master had a dark side that came out in his works. This is not something that I would suggest for children or young teens but for mature readers it offered a shiver inducing look at the evil that is associated with weakness rather than the evil that is associated with strength. 

Humans are Weird - Fireworks

Humans Are Weird – Fireworks


“Quilx’tch?”
 The voice sounded from around the wall of the office and the nutritional anthropologist clicked out a response absently. The speaker fluttered into the room and came to rest across from the consol where three of Quilx’tch’s eight legs were rapidly tapping away at the screen.
“Quilx’tch…” the Hellbat began, his fur flat in some uneasy emotion.
Quilx’tch twitched in irritation and raised his primary eyes to focus on the base safety officer.
“Can I aid you Five Clicks?” Quilx’tch asked.
He had more experience than most at fighting the instinctual fear his species had of the Hellbats but it was still uncomfortable to be in the same room with one.
“How did you know that I should not have approved the cultural display today?” Five Clicks demanded in a rush, his sensory horns dull with inattention.
Quilx’tch paused and pondered the question.
“I did not know exactly,” he said carefully. “I simply noted that the humans were ‘grinning’ and ‘snickering’ and ‘giggling’ all together.”
“Those are supposed to be an indication of pleasure and comfort!” Five Clicks hissed.
“Indeed,” Quilx’tch said, backing up a bit. “However my personal observations have indicated that if all three of those factors occur simultaneously that the possibility that the humans are involved in some form of dangerous mischief is high.”
Five Clicks gave a whistling moan and covered his sensory horns with his wings, giving the horns an absent rub.
“There is also an informal rule I found in a cache of human documents,” Quilx’tch continued. “At the time I assumed it was a jest but perhaps it was in earnest after all.”
“What rule?” Five Clicks asked without looking up from under his wings.
“If the thought of something makes an adult human giggle for more than fifteen seconds it should not be allowed.” Quilx’tch replied.
A sudden explosion rumbled through the base and Quilx’tch gripped the consol in fear.
“What did you let them do?” he demanded when Five Clicks didn’t respond to the noise with anything other than a full frame shudder.
“Fireworks,” Five Clicks hissed. “They are displaying fireworks.” 

Driving Takes it Out of One

It was a long drive from the valley to the Mountain. The pollen in the valley was bad, the smoke on the Mountain was bad. 
​Eh, it is beautiful and I can still breathe so far. 

Breaking Free

Now what would be your reaction if you came upon one of these a good six or eight feet long? 

Happy 4th

Everyone go out and have a great 4th of July! 
For those doing home fireworks displays remember to hug your local emergency room tech! 

Travel Tuesday - Home Again

A long weekend is here so it is time to cast your eyes over the hills and head home. Or hunker down and read a lot of good books all weekend. Whatever works for you.