A Long HobbyI made a terrarium. A little miniature rainforest in a bottle. Bright indirect light, add some water inside, close the lid. Made perfectly, they can theoretically sustain themselves forever.
Mine was perfect.
It lived for almost a million years.
Then a fool ran into it with his spaceship.
I make them with warning lights now.
One of the Rumors About MeHey, do you know how rumors start? Well? It isn’t a full-blown rumor until many people are repeating it. So, of course, it has to be said many times, preferably by as many people as possible. And then it's just a rumor. It doesn't mean it's true, does it?
...Well, yes, you can see that rumor is true.
After you get shot, dismembered and burned, poisoned, thrown into deep space and other such deadly delights, people start talking about how hard you are to kill.
The pathetic thing is that, were I an ordinary being, I would have been dead about… hmmm.
Um, nevermind, we’re not going to talk about that.
Anyway, the point is there are people who want to kill me all the time, every day. And since they are better at killing than I am at not being killed, I like to hide.
So I just need to stay right here until my leg reattaches. It won’t take long, I promise.
No, don’t tell your mother! Look, here, I have a Tessami body-singer! Yes, they
Finding DadClarissa sat on a stone wall, sullenly staring at the goblin offering her what it claimed was a delicacy, a "karbob" which he had been saving. It just looked like a pale miniature potato. Except that it had just been harvested directly from the goblin’s armpit.
“That’s okay, really,” she said, forcing herself to stand. “I have to find my Dad.”
“At least have some Owl Wine!” the goblin said, shoving a mug under her nose. Clarissa inhaled the deep, soupy miasma of fermented owls.
“Opprobydup!” Clarissa gagged out.
Clarissa fell off the top of a building and hit a Spṻe in midflight. It flapped angrily and bit her in the arm a second before she used it to cushion her fall.
“Damnit!” Clarissa cursed. She knew what a Spṻe bite could do. She had barely gotten to her feet when she saw a patrol of armored goblins clamoring towards her.
This time C
Scars of the SkyTwindog knew that they were scarring the sky. It wasn’t global warming or climate change or El Nino. It was because they were ripping the sky. The supersonic jets were the worst. Where the supersonics roamed, the sky bled. This was nothing that ordinary men could see, with their eyes and their spectrometers. The Earth upon which men toil is often considered to be the skin of the world. But the flesh of the Earth is protected by the skin of the Sky.
Man was tearing the skin.
Mars had her skin ripped from her many ages ago. There was nothing left of those who had once lived upon her flesh.
Mars was at peace.
Twindog knew they were scarring the sky and he let them.
Play TimeThe bird flapped its wings slowly. Not slow enough, though.
I slowed it down even further. No, I still couldn’t see that feather very well.
There. I was wasting the day, moving my time so quickly that the bird looked nearly motionless, but that feather needed to be drawn properly.
Ah. Got it.
I went back to realtime and the bird sped off, chasing some hapless bug.
I was admiring my drawing when my timesense picked up a change behind me.
I dropped my sketchbook in the dirt and whirled around, yelling, “Ha!”
Tree-Kisser skidded to a stop.
“That’s no fair! How could you tell?” he demanded.
“Ha. You broadcast your quicktime for many seconds before you arrive! It is child’s play to match your timeflow!”
“No it isn’t! I do not!”
“Yeeeees you doooo,” I said teasingly.
“No! And mom says you’re late for dinner!
Kenny Has an AccidentElias was cleaning near the bathroom, so he couldn’t help but hear Kenneth mutter a curse from inside. The curse was followed by the sound of toilet paper tearing and damp sanitizer wipes being frantically pulled out.
Then a drop of piss came through the crack in the door and it was obvious there had been a disaster.
“Did Kenny have an accident?” Elias called conversationally.
“NO, ‘Kenny’ did not have an accident! The damn commode had an accident!” Kenneth said.
“You know, Kenny, I believe you’re too old to be having accidents,” Elias said as he caught the escaped urine with his mop.
“Oh Jesus there is not enough sanitizers,” Kenneth despaired. “Why won’t NASA just send us the part we need?!”
“Oh, well, you know,” Elias said as he dug out extra sanitizers, “the whole cost of shooting a rocket into space nonsense.”
“I did not come into space to catch my own
Oso's Special KnittingOso started knitting at age four. She spent at least three hours a day simply knitting. Her sisters also knitted, although Asa had also taken up needle felting as well. Mother always made the yarn. She spun yarn in every color, every thickness, in endless lengths. Yarn was made from everything. Wool, silk, flower petals, ice, heat waves, impure thoughts. Everything.
But it was Father who made the materials.
Ricardo was a preacher. Which is to say, he preached. He didn’t belong to any religion, although narcissism and ego are quite the cult. He simply preached to others, about everything, which he was the ultimate authority of. He was a very annoying child. By the time he was twelve, his mother feared he would never change.
Luckily, to impress a girl, Ricardo changed himself. Everyone was very relieved.
“Do you know what I love about knitting?” Oso said. “I love that I make each one different. They’re special.”
Pretty in PainI can see pain. I can see it like you can see your hands, like you can see a match burning in the dark.
It’s always spitting and twitching, twisting around the spots where the hurt is. It looks like barb wire made of lightning and fireworks. A lot of colors in it, always flash flash flash and changing.
It was terrible for me when I was little. I couldn’t let myself feel for other people, because so many people have headaches, aching knees, period cramps, arthritis… I mean, a lot of people are just made of pain. I can’t even see their faces sometimes.
So, you see, that’s why I do what I do. It’s not because I enjoy your blood all over the place or the sensation of cutting your bones with my Dad’s garden tools.
It’s because pain is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in the world. I just can’t live without it.
The Greatest Art Project in the WorldThe largest art project in the history of Earth was prepped to begin.
Just to begin, the teams had millions of gallons of primer and hundreds of colors of paint distributed amongst them.
The teams were organized according to their themes. The Fae Team had thousands of tons of quartz and crystals, trees pruned into fantastical shapes, and a fire truck filled with buttermilk mixed with moss spores.
The Gaia Team was heavily populated by Green Peace, Sierra Club and environmentalists in general. They had to move the most weight out of any team – their artwork consisted almost entirely of rocks, trees, plants, and hand-blown glass.
The Chaos Team was the most popular team and was focused heavily on spray paints and blue-collar artwork involving metal and industrial materials. It was also the team that had the most peacemakers and paramedics assigned – bloody fights were a daily occurrence.
There were 10 major Teams and 16 Groups, every one with a wildly differ