First Off

If I would write more, I would probably be fucking brilliant.

Anyway, I go to take out the trash at 8 am, and it's perfect weather out. As perfect as weather gets in Central Texas in the middle of August, anway. So I was thinking I would go for a run, get some exercise while nature was being nice. Then I realized that in less than a half hour, the heat index would be breaking 100 yet again, and it would be unbearable. So no exercise outdoors for me today. Damn rational mind.

I don't know what's worse. The fact that when I make a witty one liner people are so surprised that they laugh harder than the joke was worth, or that they're surprised that I'm making a witty one-liner. I think it's the latter. Damn friends.

If I had any ambition at all, I'd at least force myself to write a page a day, in order to more finely hone my m4d l33t \/\/ri+i|\|6 5killz, y0. (apologies to those of you that don't know l33t. Yeah, right, like anyone is reading this. Ya know, once someone told me they had seen my site, then I figured out they were wrong, and had been looking at a pr0n site the whole time and thinking I was a sick bastard. Okay, so they were right about one thing. But I still forced them to eat the mass of what had been chinese food at one point in the precambrian period, maybe. With a spork. See, they were right about one thing...) Hahaha. That entire parenthetical rant was totally false. I just thought it was funny. But some people have to have these things pointed out to them. No one's ever looked at my site.

I'm feeling oddly prolific at the moment. If only I could do this more often.

a story
So, one day in space, the crew of a small shuttle was in a crisis. They couldn't agree on toppings for a pizza. Old battles die hard. So, this crew decides that they're going to just get a Supreme, damn it all to hell. Then they realized they were Buddhists. Except for Frank. Frank was supposedly practicing some alien religion from the Cygnus system that noone had even heard of yet. Leave it to Frank to jump on the newest bandwagon. (Or make up some bogus alien religion in order to have the two days for inspection off for religious holiday.)
Frank admitted that there were no dietary restrictions in his new religion, except for something about X'c'vegleir'an beetles, but even then only on Sundays. So they decided on the tofu pepperoni.
The pizza was very good indeed. Noone had an unkind word to say about it. Except Stacy, of course. But then, Stacy would have spit in her own face on the basis that she was imperfect. (Or rather, had, in fact, spit in her own face on at least one occasion. Thank goodness for zero Gee.) She thought the tomato sauce was too lumpy, too sweet, and too bland, besides being an affront to vegetable sauces everywhere. She also thought the tofu pepperoni tasted more like... well, in her words, ass. She thought a lot, none of it good.
Eric didn't give a fuck about alien religions or Stacy. He thought the pizza would have been better with some real Martian grown mushrooms and onions, but otherwise was completely servicable. (Or even better than servicable. Fantistic. Grandiose. Yeah, a grandiose pizza... That has a ring too it... Now, what the hell does grandiose mean exactly, thought Frank.) He also thought that if he had to put up with one more day of cataloguing space dust from some star that exploded a few hundred years ago, he was definately going to have a word with his supervisors about reassignment. In his fantasies this occured with him holding a shiny chrome laser gun. Which was silly, because laser pistols hadn't even been invented yet.
Tomoyo wasn't sure how she felt about the pizza. She wasn't really hungry to begin with, and now she wasn't hungry at all. End of story. (Or not. In a bout of what has to be cosmic Karma, Tomoyo would go on to be consumed by something that looked very much like the pizza she had just eaten, after being promoted twice and sent on an expeditionary mission to the M'az'zio system.)
The ship's cat was very happy indeed, after being fed off the crusts of pizza that Tomoyo wouldn't eat. It sauntered off into the airduct that it had been calling home, and would for as long as he was being fed. (Or he would get blasted into component particles by Eric's laser pistol after falling from a loose vent and landing on Eric's head. Or not. Fate and continuity are capricious and fickle when it comes to cats.) He was a happy cat.
Selah
--Ian

posted by Ian Quinn  : 8/16/2001 08:38:00 AM