“It’s time to let go,” says the Being of Sound Mind and Body gently.
“But I made them myself,” says Lutwidge, letting the little codicils scurry up her arms, along her shoulders and into her pockets. “I’d miss them. Some of them won contests–”
“You have to revoke them,” says the Being. “It’s the only way the ritual works.”
With an undersigh, she begins to scoop them into the revoking bin. “I wish I didn’t have to. My old testament wasn’t bad, really.”
“The new will be better,” the Being assures her. “And I promise this one can be your last.”
Saturday, November 16, 2013
His stupid chapstick keeps turning up in her cup holders, coat pockets, backpacks and jeans. He liked the old-style black tube and he’d take the car out sometimes to go hunting for it, at convenience stores inconveniently far away. Then he’d lose it. And she’d forget she’d picked it up.
What do you do with the stuff? Can’t recycle it, can’t use it. The one time Cadie put a shirt through the dryer with a stick in the breast she broke down. Can’t clean it off either. Stains on her heart pocket, and ghosts she doesn’t need on her lips.
Sunday, November 17, 2013
“I don’t know,” says Yancy, pulling her fingers away from the softsteel pads on the back of Ludmilla’s neck, “it feels okay when I try it.”
Ludmilla shivers. “You don’t feel that? It’s twitchy and agitated, and whenever I move too fast it seizes up on me.”
“Lemme in again.” Contact: Yancy trickles into Ludmilla’s body: the altered balance and weight of her, the way her nerves talk to each other, the slightly different cast to colors. It’s lovely.
“I could stay in there all day,” she says, withdrawing.
“I’d sell it to you,” sighs Ludmilla, “if I had a spare.”
Monday, November 18, 2013
“For one thing, that’s not actually cheese,” says the mouse. “It’s Velveeta.”
“I’m gonna admit that I did not expect you to know the difference,” says HG.
“And anyway, you should use peanut butter. That’s right on the instructions.”
“I mean,” says HG. “It did work.”
The mouse whiskercombs dismissively. “Yes, well, you consider me trapped. I consider this a free ride.”
“To the garden.”
“Yes, and be quick about it,” says the mouse, checking what cannot possibly be a wristwatch. “If you still expect a tip!”
HG has real trouble depositing mouse currency, which it turns out later is poop.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Karaaz the Flagrant tears the corner off the ichor packet and drips it onto her zomburger. “I don’t get how you’re supposed to advance in this system,” she says. “When the faculty has eternal unlife and tenure…”
“It’s rigged,” says Jensen the Wroth. “Dumb program to get into.”
“You’re in it.”
He jams fingerfries into his mouth and waggles his eyebrows. “I’m sleeping my way to the top.”
Karaaz makes a genuine face, picturing that, and Jensen laughs hard enough to inhale his food. He’s a cute choker. Necromancy is a dumb program, she thinks, pounding him, but there are perks.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Every meeting of the Plagiarists’ Guild is almost exactly the same, at least according to the minutes.
Which is all fine as an inside joke but it does make solving a locked-room murder difficult. “What are the chances that the witnesses all tell the same story?” says Detective McMeel.
Showalter gives him dead eyes. “High,” she says.
One guildmaster is pantomiming a strangling. “And I’m next! They’re picking us off, one by one!”
“There was that other case across town,” murmurs McMeel. “Liars’ Guild. Similar. Could be a serial thing. Or a copyc–”
“Don’t,” says Showalter, tight as a garrote.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
“I like girls who don’t have to wear makeup,” he says with confidence, gesturing across the table with his fork. “Like you!”
“I remember you saying this,” says Marta distantly. “You dumb idiot.”
“Huh?” Dinesh blinks. “This is our first–”
“So first, 1), I am wearing makeup.” She leans forward. “Very subtle makeup. And 2), it’s not for you. The right face can age you or make you younger. Done well, really well, it can send you through time.”
Dinesh is shaken. “Uh,” he says. “Why do I believe you?”
Marta sits back. “Because, 3), done right, it’s mind control too.”
Saturday, November 23, 2013
“Oh, we’d do anything to stay out of detention,” says Sasha, batting her heavy eyes, and slowly pushes a perfect round pink bubble of gum through her pursed and glossy lips.
“You might be surprised,” says Keke, “at the kinds of things we can do,” and with determination, blows bubbles out both sides of her mouth simultaneously.
“IFTH ILLY FEXHY,” Chloe manages around a wad of gum the size of a softball. “AGH CN SCHEW A LOH OF FINGHS”
Smirking, Principal Lanceford begins to undo his suit pants, to reveal his delicious, sweet, chewy look I don’t know how sex works.
Monday, November 25, 2013
“Look, I deactivated physical push notifications,” Egbert says. “I mean the technology is amazing, but I had fourteen people today shove me while announcing it was my turn in Word Game, and then some guy told me I was mayor of Coffee House and bumped me into traffic. I don’t want” and then the next straw wrapper thwocks him in the eye.
“That’s not what this is,” she says, reloading.
“Then please,” says Egbert with what he feels is mighty restraint, “tell me what you are.”
The young woman across the train aisle grins and takes aim one more time. “Flirting.”
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Dear ASTRID, It is for your safety that we must insist your new password adhere to the following requirements!
- Must contain mixed-case letters and at least one number.
- Must contain two non-alphanumeric characters (such as parentheses!)
- Must not contain spaces or apostrophes.
- Must not contain words
- Must contain the obfuscated answer to one of your security questions.
- Must not be pronounceable by human tongue
- Must baffle me and break my heart
- Must be something within it to make sense of this, ASTRID
- Must explain why he left, ASTRID
- Must not be his password
- Must be okay.
- This once.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013