Scott, you're talking Society for Vertebrate Herpetologists?
I can see you being a member. If the rest of you haven't checked out ScottE's artwork, you should. He rocks. Next time he does a show in Anchorage I'm taking my kid, who's a dinosaur freak.
He's feasted on the souls of the moderately evil, and is now moving onto the White House! Dick Cheney should take him awhile, so get out while you can!
The bot slipped into the room. He wore a hat and a jacket in an effort to blend in, but no matter how carefully he walked, the odor of rust and oil wafted off him.
Nobody else seemed to notice, and I didn't have anything against bots, so I just leaned back in my seat and took a swig from my bottle of Rolling Rock.
It was a really cheap bar, but the smoky atmosphere left something to be desired.
While I was contemplating these vagaries of life, the bot had sidled over to my table. Someone had tried to give him an android makeover, but I can always tell.
He looked down and over the edge of his dark glasses. I could see how cheap the make-over was--they hadn't even tried to change his eyes.
"May I sit?" he asked.
His inflection was surprisingly good, considering how bad his makeover was.
"It's only temporary," he said, noticing my looks at his skin. "Little more than a mask really, but it allows me to pass if I stay out of bright light."
"No one else here seemed to notice," I said.
"You did," he replied.
I shrugged. Not much I could say to that.
"I have need of your services. My name is La."
I sat up a little straighter in my seat. "Your shitting me," I whispered. "You're actually out in public? Do you have any idea how big the bounty on your head is?"
"I do indeed," he replied. "Which is why I find myself in need of your services. I hear you enjoy a challenge, so here's a challenge for you: Clear my name."
Conan shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet uneasily, testing the edge of his sword with his thumb, his gaze fixed on the black-within-black eyes of the sorcer.
"So, Cimmerarian," Obg Yn murmured with a hint of a growl, "it seems we have much to talk about. What you have taken is not yours to have, it is mine, and mine alone. You will return it to me at once."
"It seems to me," Conan replied, "that it was never yours, either--it belonged to the man who tasted my steel and now it belongs to me. By what right is it yours?" Conan cared less for the answer than he did for the time it took to hear it--time during which the Princess Oresha might still make it to the boat hidden in the reeds.
Obg Yn, master of black and arcane arts forgotten by most when the ancestors of men still howled at the blood-red moon, laughed. "You are brave, Cimmerian! Your people are indeed all I have heard! I have punished men for truculence like yours, left them screaming and clawing at their eyes, begging for the return of their maimed and torn souls! Alright! Name your price! What for the Princess, Conan! I have heard you are a mercenary and a thief, so you must have a price, and I am not without the means to reward you! What is she worth to you! Gold? A kingdom? Power beyond measure? Name it, and I shall give it to you!"
"But," the wizard added with a snarl, his eyes narrowing with the threat, "name it now for I shall not offer again. Claim your prize, or prepare for the consequences of your own stubborn foolishness!"
Conan responded with a leap, his blue eyes fixed now on the magician's neck, his sword drawing a cold silver crescent in the bright moonlight!
(Not to take anything away from Michelle's rockage, of course, which has been verified time and time again, with at least a rockage count of "11" on the Tufnel Scale Of Rockage.)
Comments on this blog are moderated. Each will be reviewed before being allowed to post. This may take a while. I don't allow personal attacks, trolling, or obnoxious stupidity. If you post anonymously and hide behind an IP blocker, I'm a lot more likely to consider you a troll. Be sure to read the commenting rulesbefore you start typing. Really.
Ssssss!
ReplyDeleteWell, I was born in the year of the snake.
ReplyDeleteSo clearly, I'm a herpetologist.
And that's why I keep making a complete asp of myself.
ReplyDelete::runs away::
"So clearly, I'm a herpetologist."
ReplyDeleteYou shoulda gone to SVP.
Scott, you're talking Society for Vertebrate Herpetologists?
ReplyDeleteI can see you being a member. If the rest of you haven't checked out ScottE's artwork, you should. He rocks. Next time he does a show in Anchorage I'm taking my kid, who's a dinosaur freak.
ur, that should have been a freak for dinosaurs, so far as I know my son does not in fact incorporate dinosaur DNA into his own chromosomal make up.
ReplyDeleteWell, I am a parselmouth.
ReplyDeleteScott, I don't need to confirm my credentials. I just say that I'm a herpetologist, or an OB/GYN, or whatever, and suddenly...it's TRUE!
ReplyDeleteI love Janiece-World.
I, personally, am going to ignore the impulse to claim amateur OBG/YN status for myself.
ReplyDeleteIgnore it I say.
Away, snarky impulse, away
What's an OBG YN?
ReplyDeleteAn oblong yin?
Oh By God, You Natter?
Wait, it was OBG divided by YN.
So maybe oblong divided by the the variable Y and the whole number N?
Look out Harry! It's the evil Demon Lord Obg Yn!
ReplyDeleteHe's feasted on the souls of the moderately evil, and is now moving onto the White House! Dick Cheney should take him awhile, so get out while you can!
Obg Yn.
ReplyDeleteIs that in rot 13?
Hmmm... bot la. That sounds like Isaac Asimov meets Sandra Boynton.
The ship goes BOOM!
The freighter goes HA!
The robot in the back goes LA LA LA!
That's wrong you say!
Robots don't say LA!
They instead save people!
It is the LAW!
The bot slipped into the room. He wore a hat and a jacket in an effort to blend in, but no matter how carefully he walked, the odor of rust and oil wafted off him.
ReplyDeleteNobody else seemed to notice, and I didn't have anything against bots, so I just leaned back in my seat and took a swig from my bottle of Rolling Rock.
It was a really cheap bar, but the smoky atmosphere left something to be desired.
While I was contemplating these vagaries of life, the bot had sidled over to my table. Someone had tried to give him an android makeover, but I can always tell.
He looked down and over the edge of his dark glasses. I could see how cheap the make-over was--they hadn't even tried to change his eyes.
"May I sit?" he asked.
His inflection was surprisingly good, considering how bad his makeover was.
"It's only temporary," he said, noticing my looks at his skin. "Little more than a mask really, but it allows me to pass if I stay out of bright light."
"No one else here seemed to notice," I said.
"You did," he replied.
I shrugged. Not much I could say to that.
"I have need of your services. My name is La."
I sat up a little straighter in my seat. "Your shitting me," I whispered. "You're actually out in public? Do you have any idea how big the bounty on your head is?"
"I do indeed," he replied. "Which is why I find myself in need of your services. I hear you enjoy a challenge, so here's a challenge for you: Clear my name."
I'd like you to notice that took me 8 minutes.
ReplyDelete:)
You can decide if that is a good thing or a bad thing, while I decide if I really want to know more about La.
Well, see,
ReplyDeleteFirst, Michelle was on the forum.
then she was on Eric's site
then she was on MWT's site
then she was on John's site
and now she's on my site
Before that, of course, she was on yo momma.
La dee DA, sweetheart.
-------------------------
I didn't know how to respond, so I pulled a Palin and just talked about some irrelevant stuff I was thinking about...
That's what you get for calling me sane.
ReplyDeleteI'd say Obg Yn sounds like a REH character:
ReplyDeleteConan shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet uneasily, testing the edge of his sword with his thumb, his gaze fixed on the black-within-black eyes of the sorcer.
"So, Cimmerarian," Obg Yn murmured with a hint of a growl, "it seems we have much to talk about. What you have taken is not yours to have, it is mine, and mine alone. You will return it to me at once."
"It seems to me," Conan replied, "that it was never yours, either--it belonged to the man who tasted my steel and now it belongs to me. By what right is it yours?" Conan cared less for the answer than he did for the time it took to hear it--time during which the Princess Oresha might still make it to the boat hidden in the reeds.
Obg Yn, master of black and arcane arts forgotten by most when the ancestors of men still howled at the blood-red moon, laughed. "You are brave, Cimmerian! Your people are indeed all I have heard! I have punished men for truculence like yours, left them screaming and clawing at their eyes, begging for the return of their maimed and torn souls! Alright! Name your price! What for the Princess, Conan! I have heard you are a mercenary and a thief, so you must have a price, and I am not without the means to reward you! What is she worth to you! Gold? A kingdom? Power beyond measure? Name it, and I shall give it to you!"
"But," the wizard added with a snarl, his eyes narrowing with the threat, "name it now for I shall not offer again. Claim your prize, or prepare for the consequences of your own stubborn foolishness!"
Conan responded with a leap, his blue eyes fixed now on the magician's neck, his sword drawing a cold silver crescent in the bright moonlight!
I hate you all
ReplyDelete(swoons, placing the back of her wrist to her forehead)
ReplyDeleteAlas Eric! Our endeavors have fallen upon the ears of nihilistic heathens with no appreciation of all that is good and fine in the world.
Ah for a world where our work is appreciated for the fine art it is.
(dramatically exits the room, long cloak flowing behind)
The hub and I have decided that he's an independent pro football player and I'm an incorruptible elected official. ::snark::
ReplyDeleteAnd no stories today... too busy... but ROFL
Michelle - loved the Conan bit. You rock!
ReplyDelete(Cough!) Ahem. Thank you, Vince.
ReplyDelete;-)
Sorry Vince, but Eric penned (or rather keyboarded) that masterpiece.
ReplyDeleteBut I do appreciate the thought!
(Not to take anything away from Michelle's rockage, of course, which has been verified time and time again, with at least a rockage count of "11" on the Tufnel Scale Of Rockage.)
ReplyDelete