Realm of the InterNutter

Thoughts, stories and ideas.

Challenge #01420-C325: Intolerance Turns

"I'm not stupid, I'm not expendable, and I'm not going." Originally Kerr Avon Blake's 7. Write your own. -- Knitnan

She expected resistance. She expected hostility. Even in the face of clear and present adversity. What she hadn't expected was absolute and raw hostility.

"Mr President, I'm here to help you."

He made words come out of that ugly sneer on his face. "Go back to Iraq, you filthy Muslim! What the hell are you doing out of the seraglio anyway?"

"Sir, I'm from DesMoines, Iowa. And I'm a Sikh, not a Muslim. I'm also the most highly-decorated soldier in your army and it's my job to get you safely out of this situation. If you can't deal with that, sir, then I suggest you at least shut the fuck up so that you don't arrive in the safe zone with some new broken bones. Are we clear?"

"Get that rag off your head and use it to clean the kitchen countertops before you make me a sandwich, you stupid bitch!"

She took that as a 'no'. Therefore she did a neat little manoeuvre that grabbed him by the collar and simultaneously drew him closer while also cutting off his air.

"Let me make this clear. Sir. I am your one and only hope to get out of this alive. Note the lack of 'and unharmed'. It is now up to you to decide how harmed you are by the time we reach the safe zone. If you deigned to read the reports that cross your desk, you would know that I trained in this nation's army and did four tours of duty in foreign soil without once getting shot or molested and that should say plenty about me. Are. We. CLEAR?"

She let him breathe after he nodded. "Good," she cooed. "They have mortar rockets. We don't. The only part of my body that you are allowed to touch is my hand. Lay your hands anywhere else and I will break them. Understood?"

His piggy little eyes had gone wide, and his big mouth, for a change, had shut. He nodded, jowls flapping.

He managed to arrive in the safe zone with a broken finger as a gentle reminder that she was not screwing around when she warned him. Her commanding officers were remarkably deaf about his complaints in regards to her rough treatment of their Commander in Chief. In fact, they were remarkably deaf about everything he said, right up until they locked him and his vice president in a safe room capable of seeing them through a nuclear holocaust.

And after that, he just couldn't contact anyone.

The president emerged some time after peace had been restored. Thinner, paler, and just as ignorant. But now, the nation had turned against him. He had survived, relatively unscathed, when the entire nation had suffered. They wanted someone to blame, and turned their eyes hatefully towards the man in the expensive suit that still lived in the huge, white, house.

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Dialling it down

Working out the right time in the evening to take my Serotonin is currently the problem. Juggling that and getting ready for the morning with a foggy, sleepy brain is still a problem.

But, through a process of trial and error, and error, and more error, I will eventually hit the solution by pure accident. The key, I'm sure, is taking the Serotonin at the correct hour.

And while I'm getting the hour correct, I have to deal with brain fog for

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Challenge #01419-C324: Creatures of the Night

Quote from Hellboy: There are things that go bump in the night. We're the ones who bump back. -- Anon Guest

[AN: I haven't had the dosh to acquire the original comics, alas. I want to get them though.]

From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties...

It was a fine thing to believe in a merciful god. Chanda endorsed it. Belief is a powerful thing and a defense against certain evils. Unfortunately, with belief in the good, comes belief in the evil.

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Lo Batt

So I've swapped my medication to taking it at night. And I kind'a revelled in being AWAKE for a change and wound up staying up until eleven. Whoops.

Also taking a midday estivation until night time probably didn't help there.

So this morning, I'm still foggy, but able to function. For limited definitions of 'function'. I'm still easily distractible and I'm having small troubles maintaining focus.

And I haven't watered my garden yet... hangon...

There. Plants are still alive, yay.

I have

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Challenge #01418-C323: The Button

"You should have told me what that button did."

"You shouldn't have pressed it!"

"I wouldn't have pressed it if i knew what it did!" -- OohLookShiny

"Just. Why?" said Holly.

"It was big and red and said don't touch on it," said the Doctor. "You can't understand what a raw temptation that is."

"Maybe there was a reason it was like that," argued Holly. "You don't touch big red buttons that tell you not to touch them."

"You don't touch big

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Plus la change...

Three stitches are gone, but the wound is still fragile. For those who dont follow my tumblr, the blip was a cyst, likely fatty, and entirely benign.

I have a new bandage over the site and a desperate need to scratch it because the damn thing is driving me bonkers. New bandage has to stay for a week. Bluh.

BUT I can shower as long as I pat it dry. Huzzah.

The good news about the Muppet is that some nice folks

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Challenge #01417-C322: Contentious Neighbour

Vuvuzelas aka stadium horns plus a group of children ages 5 to 8. -- Anon Guest

The big house in the neighbourhood had finally sold. Not to a dot-com temporary millionaire or some other fancy individual, but to a business of sorts. A foster home.

Biff didn't like it. As their immediate neighbour, he got to see a lot of what was going on over the maximum-legal-tall fence. And he was offended by most of it.

Hardly any of the kids had

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Thrice-special day

Today's the day!

Today's the day my Beloved celebrates another trip around the sun.

Today's the day I get my wound seen to and possibly the results of what the blip actually was.

Today's the fourteenth day on Serotonin and the day when all the effects have evened out.

Thanks to birthday cards with gift cards in them, Beloved has $100 to fritter in JB's. Half of that is thanks to MeMum and the other half is me. Huzzah.

I've no doubt

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Challenge #01416-C321: Feed the Cow

"Cash cow" : Money producing object or project, some are carefully tended and flourish. Some are bled of cash, milked dry and only then last minute revival plans, or quick sale contemplated. -- Anon Guest

It was a mystery how such a show made it to the number one position of any television genre at all, let alone the number one watched show in the entire world. The premise was daft, the characters were simple archetypes, and the plot, such as it was,

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Broken Day

Today's the day I take Chaos for a tour of her new school. It happens to take up enough time to dominate the rest of her school day, so she's not going back for like half an hour of alleged education. Especially when she goes non-verbal from excitement.

And it's a broken day for me, because I have to haul arse close to the middle of the day to take Chaos for said tour.

Regardless of whether or not I've finished the

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Challenge #01415-C320: No Plan Survives

Check your plans before you press "go". in tribute to many recent project that started up with great fanfare, followed by the mad scramble to fix the mess caused by not fully planning. -- Knitnan

They say that no plan survives first contact with the enemy. In truth, hardly any plan survives the planning stage. Especially when there's the kind of person hanging around who lives to deflate any growing plan.

And then there's the sad case of anti-serendipity.

"I knew I

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Sneaky Sneaky

I know for a fact that my Best Beloved does not read this blog. Therefore I'm about to get away with everything I'm detailing here.

I've refrained from detailing the purchases I made yesterday to get Beloved's birthmas gift. And today, somewhere between the Instant I write today and doing my allotted words for this years' novel, I will extract the gift from its hiding place, emparcel it, and hide it anew.

All this is possible because I have more money than

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Challenge #01414-C319: If it Ain't Broke...

"If it isn't broke don't fix it." -- Knitnan

It was a rule every JOAT broke, sooner or later. The desire to tweak, finesse, and otherwise improve something in their radius of activity would become overwhelming.

Tel found it extremely difficult resist, stranded on a comms station that had barely enough life support for technical staff. She had edible algae making her air, and a daily supply of algae cakes that kept her alive. But also bored out of her skull.

At

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Miracle of Nature

The plovers that have been camping out in our yard and terrorising unsolicited callers have finally hatched their eggs. There's four cute, tiny, puff-balls toddling in the grass near the front fence. The last one to hatch is still working out what these things called 'legs' are for and how they work.

I've named that one Little Wobble.

The family of six are still ambling aimlessly in our lawn, but will soon be exploring greater territories in the neighbourhood.

In other business,

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Challenge #01413-C318: The Otherworldly Ones

http://phantomrose96.tumblr.com/post/152590950362/airyairyquitecontrary-aprillikesthings

Humans are Fae for urban animals -- Gallifreya

"They live in a cave," the corvid insisted. "Caves all over the cliffs. Caves in the grasslands. They're all so confusing that it's difficult to find your way out again. The sky turns into a wall. But if you find a nice one, they will take you to the wall that is open and let you be free."

"They leave food," said the possum. "Some even give

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