The goat stared blankly ahead—or at least as best as it could with its eyes on the sides of its head—and occupied itself by chewing on some grass near the post it was tied to. Gregor carefully untied the rope from the post and led the goat to the nearby altar.
Once at the altar, Gregor put the goat in a headlock and, leaning in hard with his substantial bodyweight, swung the goat to the ground. Startled, the goat started bleating and kicking in protest, though Gregor was experienced enough to avoid the worst of the animal's flails. Kneeling on the goat to keep it from escaping, Gregor wrangled with its legs—first the back, then the front—and tied them together with thick twine. With its limbs immobilized, Gregor lifted the animal and gently placed it in the center of the altar.
While the animal wrestling was the most physically demanding part of the process, it was straightforward. The next step was always a bit trickier, at least Gregor thought so. He lit the candles that were placed at strategic points on the outer edge of the round altar. The light of the flames danced warmly, invitingly, against the dark wood of the altar. He walked back to the nearby fence, pulled on the waiting black robe, and raised the hood, which almost completely covered his face.
Back at the altar, Gregor bent down to reach the shelf underneath, rising again a moment later holding a ceremonial dagger. The golden hilt was encrusted with gemstones and the blade, which was nearly as long as his forearm, gleamed in the candlelight.
Gregor moved into position near the goat’s head—it was still trying to wiggle out of its bonds, though it wasn't finding any success. Clutching the dagger in both hands, Gregor closed his eyes and spoke quietly, his voice just above a whisper.
"Domine, occidere est creatura. Confirma me: et quo reo hominem et impleta est vita!"
As the final words left his lips, Gregor held the goat's head still with his left hand and sliced its throat with the blade in his right. Blood gushed out from the animal's neck, flowing to the edges of the altar and spilling onto the ground below. The goat tried bleating again, but its larynx had been severed, so the only sound it made was an unsettling gurgling as the life drained out of it. In less than a minute, the creature was dead.
With the sacrifice complete, Gregor carefully pulled the robe over his head, turning it inside out as he removed it—keeping any blood that splattered on the robe—before walking back to the fence. Once at the fence, he placed the robe across the top rung before walking around the edge of the altar, blowing out each candle as he reached it. With the goat lying in its gore and the candles extinguished, Gregor lifted the latch that held the gate closed and stepped through.
Outside of the fenced area, Gregor walked out the door of the shed and closed it behind him. Back in the sunshine, Gregor did a quick inspection of his clothes for any stray blood. Finding none, he made his way up the hill. As he walked, he grumbled softly to himself, complaining about the heat of the day. At the hill's summit, he pulled his name badge out of his shirt pocket and swiped it across the RFID reader. After a beep and an audible click, Gregor pulled open the door and walked into the office building.
Back in his office, Gregor found that the laptop he had been working on and turned it on—it still wasn't connecting to WIFI. He grumbled annoyedly and picked up his desk phone. He pulled a Post-it Note off of the laptop and dialed the four-digit extension number written on it.
"Hello," the voice on the other end said, "this is Michael."
"Hey, Michael," Gregor replied. "This is Greg from IT. I'm sorry, but I wasn't able to fix your laptop. I'll have to order you a new one."
"Aw, really?" Michael asked disappointedly. "There isn't anything else you can try?"
"Believe me," Gregor said, sighing slightly. "I've tried absolutely every possible solution."
Showing posts with label satire. Show all posts
Showing posts with label satire. Show all posts
Monday, February 17, 2020
Tuesday, May 1, 2018
Support Group
Moore walked into the room and quietly found a seat. The metal folding chairs were arranged in a small circle, allowing the attendees to face each other. A couple of young women were at a small table in the back of the room, helping themselves to the coffee and donuts. Moore had heard about support groups like this one before, but had never attended one until today. Life was hard for him, made all the harder from the feeling that no one understood what he was going through. Still, he felt a little silly being there; after all, how many millions of people suffered fates much worse than him? He started having second thoughts and considered leaving.
As he was eyeing the door, a man started speaking to him. The bespectacled man looked about forty with a long, graying beard that came about a third of the way down his chest. He held out a hand, which Moore took.
"Hi there," the man said, sitting in the chair next to him. "I'm Justin."
"Uh, hey," Moore said, snapping out of his thoughts. "I'm Moore."
"I don't recognize you," Justin said. "Is this your first time here?"
"Yeah. I heard about you guys from a friend of mine, Max."
Justin looked surprised. "Really? I remember Max, but didn't think he got much out of our little group."
"I mean, I don't know," Moore said lamely. "Maybe he didn't, but he said it might work for me."
"Well," Justin said, standing up, "it's great to have you." He handed Moore a pamphlet. "We'll be reading from this in the meeting. And feel free to help yourself to some coffee and donuts."
Moore nodded as Justin walked to the other side of the circle and called out to the other attendees that it was time to start the meeting. As everyone found a seat in the circle, Justin began the introduction.
"Thank you for joining us, everyone. It's always nice to see our little group grow and it's doing just that because we have someone new joining us today." Justin turned from talking to the group as a whole and looked directly at Moore. "Whenever we have someone new, we like to review how these meetings go. Candy, would you like to lead us?" Justin asked.
Candy was a woman who looked like she was in her late twenties or early thirties with platinum blonde hair. She was pretty, if a bit plain, and wore a pretty boring outfit: tan sheep skin boots, black leggings, and a loose-fitting, gray hoody.
"Sure," she said as she stood up, putting her hands in the single front pocket on the hoody. "Okay, so we're all here because our parents gave us stupid names. We meet mainly for two reasons: it helps to know that there are other people who know our struggle and that leads to us to better accept ourselves. We start by reciting our mantra, before moving to the sharing portion of the meeting. Everyone is invited to share, but nobody's forced to. If you do share, introduce yourself and tell us your stupid name."
"Thank you, Candy," Justin said. "And now, we'll all stand and say the mantra together, found on the inside fold of our pamphlet," he said, holding it up. "Alright, Killian, will you lead us?"
Killian nodded and stood up. Killian was chubby and looked like he was still in high school. He had a head of dark, bushy hair and smelled strongly of body spray. He cleared his throat before beginning, with everyone joining in.
"Our names are stupid, but we aren't. Our parents chose names that are stupid, but that doesn't mean that they are. New people in our lives will make jokes and comments that are stupid, but that doesn't mean they are. We cannot control how the world sees us and that's okay. Our names are a part of us, but they do not define us. We are more than just our names."
With the chant finished, most of the group sat back down, leaving Justin standing.
"And now," he said, "we'll move on to the sharing portion of our meeting. I'll begin. My name is Justin Tyme."
"Hi, Justin," the group said together.
"As many of you know, having a name based on a phrase is not easy. As a child, I struggled with people constantly making the same joke about my name: 'you got here your name.' It's happened so long that I don’t actually remember a time when it wasn't already old. But, having this stupid name has also helped. I learned to appreciate really clever jokes, even ones about my name. When my son was born, I even posted a picture of him on social media with the caption 'a little Tyme.' I just repeat the mantra and remind myself that I didn't choose this name and it doesn't define me.
"Okay, who'd like to share next?"
"I'll go," said Candy, who introduced the basics of the meeting. "My name's Candy Caine."
"Hi, Candy," said the group.
"I've met other girls who go by Candy, but it's usually short for Candace. My mom figured that I'd just go by the nickname, so that's what my birth certificate says.
"It was tough when I was a teenager. I'd tell people my name and get told that it was a 'stripper name,' nevermind the fact that my best friend at the time was a girl named Sinnamon with an S, which literally has 'sin' in it. But, no, Candy Caine was the stripper name. But just as our mantra says, I refused to let my name define me. I figured out that people telling me that I have a stripper name was a reflection of them, not me.
"I work in marketing now and just got promoted to junior VP at my firm. The VP above me said that one of the reasons I got the promotion was because I worked so hard on everything. As I'm sure you all know, when you have a stupid name, you have to work harder than everyone else to prove to people that you're not as dumb as your name. At first that was a burden, but now I see it as a kind of gift that my mom gave me. Thank you."
"Thank you, Candy," Justin said. "Who'd like to go next?"
The meeting continued, with members sharing how having a stupid name was a struggle, but how it also served as a blessing, forcing them to be more than just their names. The other attendees included Polly Ester Williams, who admitted that her name was only stupid if she included her middle name; Krystal Ball and Crystal Bell, who met in high school and often got confused for each other, despite being different races; Killian Smalls, the chubby kid who led the mantra and said he was named after a catchphrase from a '90s movie, which meant that the only people of a certain age knew how stupid his name was; a couple of guys who had the same first name as their last name: William Williams and Adam Adams; and Queenie Stephens and Julian Butts, the only attendees who had just one stupid name.
With everyone else having shared, Moore felt everyone's eyes on him. He knew that he didn't have to say anything, but he also felt like everyone expected him to, so he stood up.
"Hi," he said, his hands in his pockets, "my name is Moore Orless."
"Hi, Moore," everyone said back.
"Like the rest of you, I've been frustrated about my name my whole life, but I learned something recently that suddenly made having this name even harder. I grew up without my father in my life. I knew lots of kids growing up without dads, so I didn't think too much of it. What was different for me was that he left me with a stupid last name. My mom named me Moore after my great-grandfather, which I understand, but with my last name, it's a combination that's, well… stupid.
"I recently decided to track down my father and confront him for not being in my life and leaving me with a stupid name. I ordered a copy of my birth certificate and it turns out that my father's last name isn't Orless, it's Thompson. I asked my mom where my last name came from and she said that she just made it up. Made it up! I spent my childhood getting made fun of and even got beat up a few times because she wanted my name to be a stupid phrase.
"I was telling all of this to a buddy of mine, Max Powers, and he told me about this group. He only came a couple of times, but he said I might get something out it. I guess it helps to know how many other people have stupid names, but it's still tough because my last name was just made up, you know? I spent a long time being mad at my dad and learning that he's not to blame for my last name, it really shook me. Like, you go your whole life knowing something only to learn that it's a lie.
"Anyway, I want to forgive my mom, but I'm not ready yet. Maybe coming here will help me let it go and move on. I don't know, but I figure I'll try. Thanks."
Moore sat back down, feeling a little better to get all of that off his chest. Justin stood back up.
"Thanks for sharing, Moore," he said. "I can't speak for everyone, but it took a while for me to forgive my parents for my stupid name. But I was able to forgive them. If you need someone to talk to, just one-on-one, let me know and I can set you up with a sponsor.
"And with that, we'll adjourn. Thanks for coming and I hope to see everyone back here next month."
As he was eyeing the door, a man started speaking to him. The bespectacled man looked about forty with a long, graying beard that came about a third of the way down his chest. He held out a hand, which Moore took.
"Hi there," the man said, sitting in the chair next to him. "I'm Justin."
"Uh, hey," Moore said, snapping out of his thoughts. "I'm Moore."
"I don't recognize you," Justin said. "Is this your first time here?"
"Yeah. I heard about you guys from a friend of mine, Max."
Justin looked surprised. "Really? I remember Max, but didn't think he got much out of our little group."
"I mean, I don't know," Moore said lamely. "Maybe he didn't, but he said it might work for me."
"Well," Justin said, standing up, "it's great to have you." He handed Moore a pamphlet. "We'll be reading from this in the meeting. And feel free to help yourself to some coffee and donuts."
Moore nodded as Justin walked to the other side of the circle and called out to the other attendees that it was time to start the meeting. As everyone found a seat in the circle, Justin began the introduction.
"Thank you for joining us, everyone. It's always nice to see our little group grow and it's doing just that because we have someone new joining us today." Justin turned from talking to the group as a whole and looked directly at Moore. "Whenever we have someone new, we like to review how these meetings go. Candy, would you like to lead us?" Justin asked.
Candy was a woman who looked like she was in her late twenties or early thirties with platinum blonde hair. She was pretty, if a bit plain, and wore a pretty boring outfit: tan sheep skin boots, black leggings, and a loose-fitting, gray hoody.
"Sure," she said as she stood up, putting her hands in the single front pocket on the hoody. "Okay, so we're all here because our parents gave us stupid names. We meet mainly for two reasons: it helps to know that there are other people who know our struggle and that leads to us to better accept ourselves. We start by reciting our mantra, before moving to the sharing portion of the meeting. Everyone is invited to share, but nobody's forced to. If you do share, introduce yourself and tell us your stupid name."
"Thank you, Candy," Justin said. "And now, we'll all stand and say the mantra together, found on the inside fold of our pamphlet," he said, holding it up. "Alright, Killian, will you lead us?"
Killian nodded and stood up. Killian was chubby and looked like he was still in high school. He had a head of dark, bushy hair and smelled strongly of body spray. He cleared his throat before beginning, with everyone joining in.
"Our names are stupid, but we aren't. Our parents chose names that are stupid, but that doesn't mean that they are. New people in our lives will make jokes and comments that are stupid, but that doesn't mean they are. We cannot control how the world sees us and that's okay. Our names are a part of us, but they do not define us. We are more than just our names."
With the chant finished, most of the group sat back down, leaving Justin standing.
"And now," he said, "we'll move on to the sharing portion of our meeting. I'll begin. My name is Justin Tyme."
"Hi, Justin," the group said together.
"As many of you know, having a name based on a phrase is not easy. As a child, I struggled with people constantly making the same joke about my name: 'you got here your name.' It's happened so long that I don’t actually remember a time when it wasn't already old. But, having this stupid name has also helped. I learned to appreciate really clever jokes, even ones about my name. When my son was born, I even posted a picture of him on social media with the caption 'a little Tyme.' I just repeat the mantra and remind myself that I didn't choose this name and it doesn't define me.
"Okay, who'd like to share next?"
"I'll go," said Candy, who introduced the basics of the meeting. "My name's Candy Caine."
"Hi, Candy," said the group.
"I've met other girls who go by Candy, but it's usually short for Candace. My mom figured that I'd just go by the nickname, so that's what my birth certificate says.
"It was tough when I was a teenager. I'd tell people my name and get told that it was a 'stripper name,' nevermind the fact that my best friend at the time was a girl named Sinnamon with an S, which literally has 'sin' in it. But, no, Candy Caine was the stripper name. But just as our mantra says, I refused to let my name define me. I figured out that people telling me that I have a stripper name was a reflection of them, not me.
"I work in marketing now and just got promoted to junior VP at my firm. The VP above me said that one of the reasons I got the promotion was because I worked so hard on everything. As I'm sure you all know, when you have a stupid name, you have to work harder than everyone else to prove to people that you're not as dumb as your name. At first that was a burden, but now I see it as a kind of gift that my mom gave me. Thank you."
"Thank you, Candy," Justin said. "Who'd like to go next?"
The meeting continued, with members sharing how having a stupid name was a struggle, but how it also served as a blessing, forcing them to be more than just their names. The other attendees included Polly Ester Williams, who admitted that her name was only stupid if she included her middle name; Krystal Ball and Crystal Bell, who met in high school and often got confused for each other, despite being different races; Killian Smalls, the chubby kid who led the mantra and said he was named after a catchphrase from a '90s movie, which meant that the only people of a certain age knew how stupid his name was; a couple of guys who had the same first name as their last name: William Williams and Adam Adams; and Queenie Stephens and Julian Butts, the only attendees who had just one stupid name.
With everyone else having shared, Moore felt everyone's eyes on him. He knew that he didn't have to say anything, but he also felt like everyone expected him to, so he stood up.
"Hi," he said, his hands in his pockets, "my name is Moore Orless."
"Hi, Moore," everyone said back.
"Like the rest of you, I've been frustrated about my name my whole life, but I learned something recently that suddenly made having this name even harder. I grew up without my father in my life. I knew lots of kids growing up without dads, so I didn't think too much of it. What was different for me was that he left me with a stupid last name. My mom named me Moore after my great-grandfather, which I understand, but with my last name, it's a combination that's, well… stupid.
"I recently decided to track down my father and confront him for not being in my life and leaving me with a stupid name. I ordered a copy of my birth certificate and it turns out that my father's last name isn't Orless, it's Thompson. I asked my mom where my last name came from and she said that she just made it up. Made it up! I spent my childhood getting made fun of and even got beat up a few times because she wanted my name to be a stupid phrase.
"I was telling all of this to a buddy of mine, Max Powers, and he told me about this group. He only came a couple of times, but he said I might get something out it. I guess it helps to know how many other people have stupid names, but it's still tough because my last name was just made up, you know? I spent a long time being mad at my dad and learning that he's not to blame for my last name, it really shook me. Like, you go your whole life knowing something only to learn that it's a lie.
"Anyway, I want to forgive my mom, but I'm not ready yet. Maybe coming here will help me let it go and move on. I don't know, but I figure I'll try. Thanks."
Moore sat back down, feeling a little better to get all of that off his chest. Justin stood back up.
"Thanks for sharing, Moore," he said. "I can't speak for everyone, but it took a while for me to forgive my parents for my stupid name. But I was able to forgive them. If you need someone to talk to, just one-on-one, let me know and I can set you up with a sponsor.
"And with that, we'll adjourn. Thanks for coming and I hope to see everyone back here next month."
Tuesday, November 15, 2016
First Date
It’s awfully early for a dinner date, Burt thought. He had to leave the office early to make it to the restaurant by five, not that he needed much of an excuse to duck out early on a Friday. He checked his watch: 5:03 pm. His date was running late, though by a reasonable amount. Scott had really talked this girl up, so being made to wait didn’t seem so bad.
“Hi, are you Burt?” a gentle voice behind him asked.
“Yes,” Burt replied, standing up and turning to face her. “And you must be Gwendolyn.” Burt saw her and recognized her from the picture his coworker, Scott, had shown him. She was pretty, but didn’t seem to like she was trying to show it off. That was something that Burt liked: she was dressed like a real person and not like she was trying to achieve some sort of ideal of beauty. Burt had been on plenty of dates with women who clearly wanted to impress him with their looks but had the personality of a block of wood.
“Please, call me Gwen,” she said, extending her hand. Burt shook it, though thought it was a bit strange to shake hands on a date. After the introduction, he pulled Gwen’s chair out and helped her sit down. She wore a floral-print dress and her brown hair parted on the side, making Burt feel a bit overdressed in his suit and tie.
“So,” Burt said as he took his seat on the opposite side of the table, “Scott tells me you two went to high school together.”
“Did he also tell you that we dated in high school?” Gwen asked coyly.
“In fact, he left that part out,” Burt said, his voice a mixture of amusement and annoyance.
“It wasn’t anything serious,” Gwen said reassuringly. “He took me to get pizza once. We made out a little in his mom’s minivan, but that was it.”
“Okay,” Burt chuckled, relieved. “He also left out that he used his mom’s minivan to pick up girls.”
“Oh, yeah,” Gwen said with a wry smile, “girls love a guy in a family vehicle. It really gets us going.”
“You’re funny,” Burt said, impressed. “I like that.”
“I’m just getting started,” Gwen said, opening her menu.
Their conversation continued going well through dinner and Gwen continued to impress Burt. His dates in the past always ordered salads, which always felt fake to him (no one can fill up on a salad), but Gwen ordered a rare steak. That, along her dry sense of humor, gave Burt the impression that Gwen was a women who was…well, just being herself. It was very refreshing.
“You strike me as a very genuine person,” Burt said while he was waiting for the server to return with his credit card.
“Really?” Gwen asked, using a toothpick. “In what way?”
“The women I date tend to present themselves as the kind of woman that they think I want, rather than just being themselves. I dated a girl once who thought I wouldn’t like her if I knew she was half Colombian, so she wore blue contacts and wouldn’t tell me her last name the whole evening. Little did she know, I’m a quarter Brazilian, on my mother’s side.”
“Women like that are stupid,” Gwen said, rolling her eyes. “What’s these girls’ endgame? ‘If I get him to fall in love with me, I only need to pretend to be a completely different person for about fifty years.’”
“Exactly!” Burt exclaimed, happy to hear his own thoughts mirrored back at him from his date for once.
“I like that one quote from Marilyn Monroe: ‘If you can’t handle me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best.’”
“Does that mean I get a glimpse at your naughty side?” Burt asked, smirking.
“Maybe,” Gwen said, coyly. “But not tonight.”
“Not even if I take you home in a minivan?” Burt asked, which made Gwen laugh.
“Tell you what,” Gwen offered, a smile on her face, “you can come by my place, but don’t expect to stay over. We’ll just have coffee or something.”
“I can work with that,” Burt said happily as the server walked up with his credit card.
“Just warning you,” Gwen said as she led Burt into her apartment, “my roommate, Luna, is a bit wild. I don’t know if we’ll see her tonight, but she has some … interesting decorations.”
As Burt stepped inside, he saw what she meant. On the wall of the living room was what looked like a medieval torture rack, complete with manacles and chains.
“I think ‘wild’ might be putting it lightly,” Burt said, one eyebrow cocked.
“Hey, remember who your date is,” Gwen said, leading Burt by his tie to the dining room. She pulled out a chair for him to sit at the table. “How do you like your coffee?”
“Oh,” Burt said, surprised. “We’re actually having coffee.”
“I’m genuine, remember?” Gwen said, a big smile on her face. “Besides, if I’m not worth having unless you have to work to get me.”
“Oh, yeah?” Burt asked, intrigued. “And you’re worth the hunt?”
“I guess you’ll have to chase me to find out.”
“Well,” Gwen said, stretching her arms, “you’ve been a great date, Burt, but it’s time for you to go home.”
“Are you sure?” Burt asked, disappointed. “It only just got dark outside.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Gwen said sweetly, “but I’d love to see you again sometime.”
“Alright,” Burt acquiesced. “Are you free tomorrow night?”
“I’m busy after seven, but we could meet for lunch.”
“Sounds good to me. Mind if I pick you up?”
“Not at all!” Gwen said enthusiastically. “How does eleven thirty sound?”
“It’s a date!”
Gwen walked Burt to the door and kissed him gently on his cheek as he left. She could tell that it had been a long time since he had been so happy to get just a peck on his cheek at the end of a date, but she could have that effect on guys.
Her train of thought was broken by the sound of her phone making a dinging sound. It was her alarm, letting her know that Luna would be there soon. Gwen went into the bedroom and stripped off her clothes. She then went to the bathroom, filled a cup with tap water, and took a couple of sleeping pills. She knew that the pills would kick in soon, though perhaps not before her roommate arrived.
Gwen walked over to the rack in the living room. She attached the manacles to her ankles and wrists, the chains being loose enough for her to reach her feet. Once she was locked in, she touched a button to activate a winch, tightening the chains until her hands and feet were pulled against the back of the rack (the release was near her left hand, but inside a hold that only small fingers like hers could fit into). Once everything was place, she relaxed and leaned against the wood behind her.
“Alright,” Gwen said, the sleeping pills kicking in, “ready when you are, Luna.”
Just then, it started. Her muscles flexed against her restraints as she let out a beastly howl. Her ears lengthened, as did her feet. Every hair on her body grew, covering her body in a thick fur. Her muscles grew as she struggled against the chains, but she couldn’t move enough to get the leverage needed to break free. Her mouth and nose stretched, combining into a snout. Behind her, a newly formed tailed smacked against the wood. When her transformation was complete, she was somewhere between a wolf and a human.
The beast blinked, becoming aware of her surroundings. “This again, Gwen?” she said drowsily to herself, her voice deeper than Gwen's. “One of these days you’ll forget what day it is and won’t strap yourself down by the time I arrive. I can wait. After all, I only come around about once a month anyway…” As she spoke, Luna the she-wolf, fell to sleep strapped to rack and started lightly snoring.
“Hi, are you Burt?” a gentle voice behind him asked.
“Yes,” Burt replied, standing up and turning to face her. “And you must be Gwendolyn.” Burt saw her and recognized her from the picture his coworker, Scott, had shown him. She was pretty, but didn’t seem to like she was trying to show it off. That was something that Burt liked: she was dressed like a real person and not like she was trying to achieve some sort of ideal of beauty. Burt had been on plenty of dates with women who clearly wanted to impress him with their looks but had the personality of a block of wood.
“Please, call me Gwen,” she said, extending her hand. Burt shook it, though thought it was a bit strange to shake hands on a date. After the introduction, he pulled Gwen’s chair out and helped her sit down. She wore a floral-print dress and her brown hair parted on the side, making Burt feel a bit overdressed in his suit and tie.
“So,” Burt said as he took his seat on the opposite side of the table, “Scott tells me you two went to high school together.”
“Did he also tell you that we dated in high school?” Gwen asked coyly.
“In fact, he left that part out,” Burt said, his voice a mixture of amusement and annoyance.
“It wasn’t anything serious,” Gwen said reassuringly. “He took me to get pizza once. We made out a little in his mom’s minivan, but that was it.”
“Okay,” Burt chuckled, relieved. “He also left out that he used his mom’s minivan to pick up girls.”
“Oh, yeah,” Gwen said with a wry smile, “girls love a guy in a family vehicle. It really gets us going.”
“You’re funny,” Burt said, impressed. “I like that.”
“I’m just getting started,” Gwen said, opening her menu.
~~~
Their conversation continued going well through dinner and Gwen continued to impress Burt. His dates in the past always ordered salads, which always felt fake to him (no one can fill up on a salad), but Gwen ordered a rare steak. That, along her dry sense of humor, gave Burt the impression that Gwen was a women who was…well, just being herself. It was very refreshing.
“You strike me as a very genuine person,” Burt said while he was waiting for the server to return with his credit card.
“Really?” Gwen asked, using a toothpick. “In what way?”
“The women I date tend to present themselves as the kind of woman that they think I want, rather than just being themselves. I dated a girl once who thought I wouldn’t like her if I knew she was half Colombian, so she wore blue contacts and wouldn’t tell me her last name the whole evening. Little did she know, I’m a quarter Brazilian, on my mother’s side.”
“Women like that are stupid,” Gwen said, rolling her eyes. “What’s these girls’ endgame? ‘If I get him to fall in love with me, I only need to pretend to be a completely different person for about fifty years.’”
“Exactly!” Burt exclaimed, happy to hear his own thoughts mirrored back at him from his date for once.
“I like that one quote from Marilyn Monroe: ‘If you can’t handle me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best.’”
“Does that mean I get a glimpse at your naughty side?” Burt asked, smirking.
“Maybe,” Gwen said, coyly. “But not tonight.”
“Not even if I take you home in a minivan?” Burt asked, which made Gwen laugh.
“Tell you what,” Gwen offered, a smile on her face, “you can come by my place, but don’t expect to stay over. We’ll just have coffee or something.”
“I can work with that,” Burt said happily as the server walked up with his credit card.
“Just warning you,” Gwen said as she led Burt into her apartment, “my roommate, Luna, is a bit wild. I don’t know if we’ll see her tonight, but she has some … interesting decorations.”
As Burt stepped inside, he saw what she meant. On the wall of the living room was what looked like a medieval torture rack, complete with manacles and chains.
“I think ‘wild’ might be putting it lightly,” Burt said, one eyebrow cocked.
“Hey, remember who your date is,” Gwen said, leading Burt by his tie to the dining room. She pulled out a chair for him to sit at the table. “How do you like your coffee?”
“Oh,” Burt said, surprised. “We’re actually having coffee.”
“I’m genuine, remember?” Gwen said, a big smile on her face. “Besides, if I’m not worth having unless you have to work to get me.”
“Oh, yeah?” Burt asked, intrigued. “And you’re worth the hunt?”
“I guess you’ll have to chase me to find out.”
~~~
“Well,” Gwen said, stretching her arms, “you’ve been a great date, Burt, but it’s time for you to go home.”
“Are you sure?” Burt asked, disappointed. “It only just got dark outside.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Gwen said sweetly, “but I’d love to see you again sometime.”
“Alright,” Burt acquiesced. “Are you free tomorrow night?”
“I’m busy after seven, but we could meet for lunch.”
“Sounds good to me. Mind if I pick you up?”
“Not at all!” Gwen said enthusiastically. “How does eleven thirty sound?”
“It’s a date!”
Gwen walked Burt to the door and kissed him gently on his cheek as he left. She could tell that it had been a long time since he had been so happy to get just a peck on his cheek at the end of a date, but she could have that effect on guys.
Her train of thought was broken by the sound of her phone making a dinging sound. It was her alarm, letting her know that Luna would be there soon. Gwen went into the bedroom and stripped off her clothes. She then went to the bathroom, filled a cup with tap water, and took a couple of sleeping pills. She knew that the pills would kick in soon, though perhaps not before her roommate arrived.
Gwen walked over to the rack in the living room. She attached the manacles to her ankles and wrists, the chains being loose enough for her to reach her feet. Once she was locked in, she touched a button to activate a winch, tightening the chains until her hands and feet were pulled against the back of the rack (the release was near her left hand, but inside a hold that only small fingers like hers could fit into). Once everything was place, she relaxed and leaned against the wood behind her.
“Alright,” Gwen said, the sleeping pills kicking in, “ready when you are, Luna.”
Just then, it started. Her muscles flexed against her restraints as she let out a beastly howl. Her ears lengthened, as did her feet. Every hair on her body grew, covering her body in a thick fur. Her muscles grew as she struggled against the chains, but she couldn’t move enough to get the leverage needed to break free. Her mouth and nose stretched, combining into a snout. Behind her, a newly formed tailed smacked against the wood. When her transformation was complete, she was somewhere between a wolf and a human.
The beast blinked, becoming aware of her surroundings. “This again, Gwen?” she said drowsily to herself, her voice deeper than Gwen's. “One of these days you’ll forget what day it is and won’t strap yourself down by the time I arrive. I can wait. After all, I only come around about once a month anyway…” As she spoke, Luna the she-wolf, fell to sleep strapped to rack and started lightly snoring.
Tuesday, April 5, 2016
Text
[03/27/2018 07:36 PM EST]
FindADate.com: Karen_the_Baron liked your profile picture!
[03/27/2018 07:38 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Hey.
I liked your picture.
Your dog looks really sweet.
[03/27/2018 07:41 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
thx
he was
[03/27/2018 07:43 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Oh, I didn’t realize he passed.
I can understand why you still use that picture. I have Labradoodle, Jojo.
He’s so adorable!
[03/27/2018 07:44 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
thats nice
dogs are great
u like movies
?
[03/27/2018 07:45 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Mostly, but it depends what kind.
[03/27/2018 07:45 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
u wanna see a movie friday
?
[03/27/2018 07:47 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Maybe. What do you have in mind?
[03/27/2018 07:47 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
zombie
[03/27/2018 07:48 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Uh, I’m not really a fan of zombie movies.
What about that new disaster movie?
[03/27/2018 07:49 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
oh, you meant waht movie
lol
the disaster movie is ok
[03/27/2018 07:50 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Huh?
Were you making a joke? I don’t get it.
[03/27/2018 07:53 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
u asked waht i had in mind
im actually an immortal spaceworm and i burrowed into the brain of my host
i only just gained control of the language functions
[03/27/2018 07:54 PM EST
Karen_the_Baron:
You have a weird sense of humor. I like that.
My last boyfriend was kind of boring, so I’m ready for something different.
You know what I mean?
[03/27/2018 07:56 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
yes i understand
u r very precise with ur texting
i like that
[03/27/2018 07:59 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Yeah, I make sure to type everything out properly.
I teach high school English, so I try my best to practice what I preach.
Some guys get intimidated by me being so “precise,” as you put it.
[03/27/2018 08:01 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
they r dum
it is a sign of higher brain function
[03/27/2018 08:01 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
LOL! I guess.
You’re really committing to this “brain slug” thing, eh?
[03/27/2018 08:02 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
spaceworm
yes
[03/27/2018 08:03 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
OK, I can play along.
Are you going to try to take over my brain, too?
[03/27/2018 08:05 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
yes
sort of
my species is hermaphroditic
i want to plant an offspring in your brain
[03/27/2018 08:06 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
I bet you say that to all the girls. ;-)
[03/27/2018 08:07 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
no
the other females ive been in contact with r not as intelligent as u
ur brain is bigger
juicier
[03/27/2018 08:08 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Aww! That’s really nice!
Most guys just compliment me on how I look.
I like that you looked beyond that.
[03/27/2018 08:09 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
ur face is pretty but ur brain makes you beautiful
[03/27/2018 08:10 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
*swoon*
You really know how to sweet talk a girl!
[03/27/2018 08:11 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
STAY AWAY!
[03/27/2018 08:14 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Huh?
[03/27/2018 08:17 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
This is Doug. The REAL Doug.
Some kind of parasite has taken over my body.
I don’t know how long I’ll be in control. If you come in contact with me, you’ll
be in danger of having your mind controlled too.
This is not a bit or a joke or anything.
Stay away!
[03/27/2018 08:18 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Uh…?
[03/27/2018 08:21 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
sorry
im back now
ignore those last few texts
[03/27/2018 08:22 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
LOL!
You’re pretty clever!
I like how you changed your writing style to be the “host.”
[03/27/2018 08:23 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
yes
it was a joke
so r we on for friday
?
[03/27/2018 08:25 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Yeah. You’ve certainly got me intrigued.
Which theater do you want to meet at?
[03/27/2018 08:26 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
can we meet at the 1 on franklin ave
?
[03/27/2018 08:27 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Yeah, but that one’s kind of far for me. Can you do the one on Pine?
[03/27/2018 08:28 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
ok
theres a showing at 850
will that work
?
[03/27/2018 08:30 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Is that IMAX?
[03/27/2018 08:32 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
no
thats regular
[03/27/2018 08:34 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Can we see it in IMAX? :-D
Please?
[03/27/2018 08:35 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
i guess
if im paying for imax u better kiss me at the end of the night
so i can implant you with my offspring
[03/27/2018 08:37 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
You nearly broke character there!
As for your concern: OK :-)
You’re nice, but also a little feisty. I like that!
[03/27/2018 08:38 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
thx
the imax showing on friday is at 1010
[03/27/2018 08:40 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Great! I can’t wait!
[03/27/2018 08:41 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
great
ill meet u at the theater on pine on friday about 20 before showtime
remember u owe me a kiss
[03/27/2018 08:43 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
If you treat me right, who knows what can happen. ;-)
Above is a transcript of the conversation leading up to the nearly complete annihilation of mankind. After years of research, the parasite outbreak was tracked back to the case above, though it is still unknown how Douglas Scott first became infected. Contrary to what was previously thought, the first victim, Karen Thomas, made initial contact with the parasite, through a dating website.
FindADate.com: Karen_the_Baron liked your profile picture!
[03/27/2018 07:38 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Hey.
I liked your picture.
Your dog looks really sweet.
[03/27/2018 07:41 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
thx
he was
[03/27/2018 07:43 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Oh, I didn’t realize he passed.
I can understand why you still use that picture. I have Labradoodle, Jojo.
He’s so adorable!
[03/27/2018 07:44 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
thats nice
dogs are great
u like movies
?
[03/27/2018 07:45 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Mostly, but it depends what kind.
[03/27/2018 07:45 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
u wanna see a movie friday
?
[03/27/2018 07:47 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Maybe. What do you have in mind?
[03/27/2018 07:47 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
zombie
[03/27/2018 07:48 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Uh, I’m not really a fan of zombie movies.
What about that new disaster movie?
[03/27/2018 07:49 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
oh, you meant waht movie
lol
the disaster movie is ok
[03/27/2018 07:50 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Huh?
Were you making a joke? I don’t get it.
[03/27/2018 07:53 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
u asked waht i had in mind
im actually an immortal spaceworm and i burrowed into the brain of my host
i only just gained control of the language functions
[03/27/2018 07:54 PM EST
Karen_the_Baron:
You have a weird sense of humor. I like that.
My last boyfriend was kind of boring, so I’m ready for something different.
You know what I mean?
[03/27/2018 07:56 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
yes i understand
u r very precise with ur texting
i like that
[03/27/2018 07:59 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Yeah, I make sure to type everything out properly.
I teach high school English, so I try my best to practice what I preach.
Some guys get intimidated by me being so “precise,” as you put it.
[03/27/2018 08:01 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
they r dum
it is a sign of higher brain function
[03/27/2018 08:01 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
LOL! I guess.
You’re really committing to this “brain slug” thing, eh?
[03/27/2018 08:02 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
spaceworm
yes
[03/27/2018 08:03 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
OK, I can play along.
Are you going to try to take over my brain, too?
[03/27/2018 08:05 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
yes
sort of
my species is hermaphroditic
i want to plant an offspring in your brain
[03/27/2018 08:06 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
I bet you say that to all the girls. ;-)
[03/27/2018 08:07 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
no
the other females ive been in contact with r not as intelligent as u
ur brain is bigger
juicier
[03/27/2018 08:08 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Aww! That’s really nice!
Most guys just compliment me on how I look.
I like that you looked beyond that.
[03/27/2018 08:09 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
ur face is pretty but ur brain makes you beautiful
[03/27/2018 08:10 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
*swoon*
You really know how to sweet talk a girl!
[03/27/2018 08:11 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
STAY AWAY!
[03/27/2018 08:14 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Huh?
[03/27/2018 08:17 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
This is Doug. The REAL Doug.
Some kind of parasite has taken over my body.
I don’t know how long I’ll be in control. If you come in contact with me, you’ll
be in danger of having your mind controlled too.
This is not a bit or a joke or anything.
Stay away!
[03/27/2018 08:18 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Uh…?
[03/27/2018 08:21 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
sorry
im back now
ignore those last few texts
[03/27/2018 08:22 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
LOL!
You’re pretty clever!
I like how you changed your writing style to be the “host.”
[03/27/2018 08:23 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
yes
it was a joke
so r we on for friday
?
[03/27/2018 08:25 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Yeah. You’ve certainly got me intrigued.
Which theater do you want to meet at?
[03/27/2018 08:26 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
can we meet at the 1 on franklin ave
?
[03/27/2018 08:27 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Yeah, but that one’s kind of far for me. Can you do the one on Pine?
[03/27/2018 08:28 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
ok
theres a showing at 850
will that work
?
[03/27/2018 08:30 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Is that IMAX?
[03/27/2018 08:32 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
no
thats regular
[03/27/2018 08:34 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Can we see it in IMAX? :-D
Please?
[03/27/2018 08:35 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
i guess
if im paying for imax u better kiss me at the end of the night
so i can implant you with my offspring
[03/27/2018 08:37 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
You nearly broke character there!
As for your concern: OK :-)
You’re nice, but also a little feisty. I like that!
[03/27/2018 08:38 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
thx
the imax showing on friday is at 1010
[03/27/2018 08:40 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
Great! I can’t wait!
[03/27/2018 08:41 PM EST]
#1SFGiantsFan:
great
ill meet u at the theater on pine on friday about 20 before showtime
remember u owe me a kiss
[03/27/2018 08:43 PM EST]
Karen_the_Baron:
If you treat me right, who knows what can happen. ;-)
Above is a transcript of the conversation leading up to the nearly complete annihilation of mankind. After years of research, the parasite outbreak was tracked back to the case above, though it is still unknown how Douglas Scott first became infected. Contrary to what was previously thought, the first victim, Karen Thomas, made initial contact with the parasite, through a dating website.
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Family Values
Jeremy never liked having to confront people about complaints he received, but with so many anonymous submissions, he felt obligated to follow up. He rang the bell and waited, looking straight ahead at the door in front of him. After less than a minute of waiting, the door opened to reveal a middle-aged looking woman with hair past her waist. She smiled warmly.
"Hello," she said cheerfully. "Can I help you?"
"Hello," Jeremy replied. "I'm Jeremy Evans. I'm with Child Protective Services and I'm looking for the parents of Grover Wright."
"Oh my," the woman said, suddenly looking very concerned. "I'm Grover's mother, Verona. What's this all about?"
"We've received numerous complaints about about Grover's treatment," Jeremy said, perhaps a little too cold and business-like. "I'm here to verify the validity of those complaints."
Verona was taken aback. "I can assure you that Grover's father and I are trying to raise Grover the best that we can. Who registered the complaints?"
"All of the complaints were anonymous," Jeremy said, "but even if they weren't, I'm not allowed to tell you. Do you mind if I come in and ask you a few questions?"
"Of course not," Verona said without hesitation. "We have nothing to hide. I'm sure that once we've talked you'll see that these complaints are completely unfounded." She opened the door and showed Jeremy inside. Once they were seated across from each other at the kitchen table, Jeremy reviewed the paperwork attached to his clipboard.
"Now," Jeremy said, "one complaint we've received multiple times is that Grover is not bathed regularly. How often does he receive a bath?"
"That's up to him," Verona said, matter-of-factly. "Grover's father and I do our best to not have him influenced by outside sources, whether from us or from society as a whole. We want him to find his own way in the world."
Jeremy looked dumbfounded. "What? He's five years old. If you let him decide how to run his life, he'd never eat anything but candy."
"Not at all," Verona said. "Grover certainly enjoys candy, but he also loves eating fresh produce from our garden. He constantly helps in the garden and we can tell that he has a sense of pride from eating the literal fruits of his labors."
"Okay," Jeremy said, trying to get the conversation back on track, "but that still doesn't answer the question of how often Grover is bathed."
Verona thought for a moment before replying. "Oh, about once a week or so. Grover does enjoy bathtime, but he has so many other pursuits that he doesn't always get to it."
Jeremy made a note on one of the forms attached to his clipboard. "At his age, once a week is adequate. We've also received some complaints about him using foul language to other children in the neighborhood."
"Oh," Verona said, looking mildly embarrassed. "My husband is fan of the filmmaker Quentin Tarantino and he has watched many of his films with Grover. I suspect that he was just quoting a line from one of them."
"Those movies have hard R ratings," Jeremy said; "they're not appropriate for children."
"If you review the MPAA ratings system," Verona replied a little smugly, "you'll find that R ratings are for no child younger than 17 unless accompanied by a parent. I'll admit that I don't care for those films, but Grover enjoys watching them with his father, who is always present."
Giving up on that complaint, Jeremy reviewed his paperwork to find another topic. "We've received numerous complaints that Grover is often seen outside naked, sometimes relieving himself. Does that happen?"
"Absolutely," Verona replied without hesitation. "Although, we only allow him to do so in the backyard, which is surrounded by a wooden fence, so if people are watching it happen, I believe that makes peeping toms."
"Is Grover toilet-trained?" Jeremy asked, no longer surprised by what the woman across from him was saying.
"Mostly. He still has accidents from time to time, but he's getting there."
"If he's toilet-trained," Jeremy said, "why do you allow him to relieve himself outside? That will only make it harder for him to learn to use the bathroom."
Up until this point, Verona had been nothing but friendly and cheerful. Now, however, she suddenly became very serious and a little annoyed. "My parents raised me to be Christian, just like them. I was only a child, so I was very impressionable. They took me to church every week and regularly forced me and my siblings to read from the Bible. It wasn't until I was in college when I learned that all religion is a sham meant to control the masses.
"I don't want Grover to go through the same thing I did. I refuse to force him to have the same values that I have, even if that means that he decides to become religious. Honestly, the very idea of him going to mass or what-have-you makes me nauseated, but I would still support him if that's what he wants. That means that I let him make his own decisions. If he wants to run around outside while naked, who does that harm?"
Jeremy nodded, finally understanding. "Look, I get it. You want him to be his own person."
"Yes!" Verona responded, her cheerful enthusiasm having returned.
"But," Jeremy continued, "he's still only five years old. You have to teach to do things to do things that are good for him, even if it's not what he likes. You may be mad at your parents for 'forcing' their values on you, but how will Grover feel when he goes off to college and can't sit through an entire class because he doesn't know how to hold his bladder? Or how will he find a job when he shows up to an interview in desperate need of a shower? I know you think these things will take care of themselves, but they won't. I've seen kids living in squalor because they don't know any better. I can tell your heart's in the right place, so I won't take any action today. But I need you to make some serious changes to how Grover is being cared for."
Verona protested, saying that forcing her to act as a dictator to her son was fascist, but she ultimately acquiesced. Jeremy left with an appointment to return to check on things in a month. He was showing leniency, but he couldn't help but feel sorry for the kid, Grover. His parents were so afraid of encroaching on his development that they were actually hindering it. Thankfully, Grover was still young enough that his parents' misguided approach to parenting probably hadn't done any permanent damage.
With that taken care of, he got in his car and drove to his next appointment.
"Hello," she said cheerfully. "Can I help you?"
"Hello," Jeremy replied. "I'm Jeremy Evans. I'm with Child Protective Services and I'm looking for the parents of Grover Wright."
"Oh my," the woman said, suddenly looking very concerned. "I'm Grover's mother, Verona. What's this all about?"
"We've received numerous complaints about about Grover's treatment," Jeremy said, perhaps a little too cold and business-like. "I'm here to verify the validity of those complaints."
Verona was taken aback. "I can assure you that Grover's father and I are trying to raise Grover the best that we can. Who registered the complaints?"
"All of the complaints were anonymous," Jeremy said, "but even if they weren't, I'm not allowed to tell you. Do you mind if I come in and ask you a few questions?"
"Of course not," Verona said without hesitation. "We have nothing to hide. I'm sure that once we've talked you'll see that these complaints are completely unfounded." She opened the door and showed Jeremy inside. Once they were seated across from each other at the kitchen table, Jeremy reviewed the paperwork attached to his clipboard.
"Now," Jeremy said, "one complaint we've received multiple times is that Grover is not bathed regularly. How often does he receive a bath?"
"That's up to him," Verona said, matter-of-factly. "Grover's father and I do our best to not have him influenced by outside sources, whether from us or from society as a whole. We want him to find his own way in the world."
Jeremy looked dumbfounded. "What? He's five years old. If you let him decide how to run his life, he'd never eat anything but candy."
"Not at all," Verona said. "Grover certainly enjoys candy, but he also loves eating fresh produce from our garden. He constantly helps in the garden and we can tell that he has a sense of pride from eating the literal fruits of his labors."
"Okay," Jeremy said, trying to get the conversation back on track, "but that still doesn't answer the question of how often Grover is bathed."
Verona thought for a moment before replying. "Oh, about once a week or so. Grover does enjoy bathtime, but he has so many other pursuits that he doesn't always get to it."
Jeremy made a note on one of the forms attached to his clipboard. "At his age, once a week is adequate. We've also received some complaints about him using foul language to other children in the neighborhood."
"Oh," Verona said, looking mildly embarrassed. "My husband is fan of the filmmaker Quentin Tarantino and he has watched many of his films with Grover. I suspect that he was just quoting a line from one of them."
"Those movies have hard R ratings," Jeremy said; "they're not appropriate for children."
"If you review the MPAA ratings system," Verona replied a little smugly, "you'll find that R ratings are for no child younger than 17 unless accompanied by a parent. I'll admit that I don't care for those films, but Grover enjoys watching them with his father, who is always present."
Giving up on that complaint, Jeremy reviewed his paperwork to find another topic. "We've received numerous complaints that Grover is often seen outside naked, sometimes relieving himself. Does that happen?"
"Absolutely," Verona replied without hesitation. "Although, we only allow him to do so in the backyard, which is surrounded by a wooden fence, so if people are watching it happen, I believe that makes peeping toms."
"Is Grover toilet-trained?" Jeremy asked, no longer surprised by what the woman across from him was saying.
"Mostly. He still has accidents from time to time, but he's getting there."
"If he's toilet-trained," Jeremy said, "why do you allow him to relieve himself outside? That will only make it harder for him to learn to use the bathroom."
Up until this point, Verona had been nothing but friendly and cheerful. Now, however, she suddenly became very serious and a little annoyed. "My parents raised me to be Christian, just like them. I was only a child, so I was very impressionable. They took me to church every week and regularly forced me and my siblings to read from the Bible. It wasn't until I was in college when I learned that all religion is a sham meant to control the masses.
"I don't want Grover to go through the same thing I did. I refuse to force him to have the same values that I have, even if that means that he decides to become religious. Honestly, the very idea of him going to mass or what-have-you makes me nauseated, but I would still support him if that's what he wants. That means that I let him make his own decisions. If he wants to run around outside while naked, who does that harm?"
Jeremy nodded, finally understanding. "Look, I get it. You want him to be his own person."
"Yes!" Verona responded, her cheerful enthusiasm having returned.
"But," Jeremy continued, "he's still only five years old. You have to teach to do things to do things that are good for him, even if it's not what he likes. You may be mad at your parents for 'forcing' their values on you, but how will Grover feel when he goes off to college and can't sit through an entire class because he doesn't know how to hold his bladder? Or how will he find a job when he shows up to an interview in desperate need of a shower? I know you think these things will take care of themselves, but they won't. I've seen kids living in squalor because they don't know any better. I can tell your heart's in the right place, so I won't take any action today. But I need you to make some serious changes to how Grover is being cared for."
Verona protested, saying that forcing her to act as a dictator to her son was fascist, but she ultimately acquiesced. Jeremy left with an appointment to return to check on things in a month. He was showing leniency, but he couldn't help but feel sorry for the kid, Grover. His parents were so afraid of encroaching on his development that they were actually hindering it. Thankfully, Grover was still young enough that his parents' misguided approach to parenting probably hadn't done any permanent damage.
With that taken care of, he got in his car and drove to his next appointment.
Tuesday, January 5, 2016
Humilia
INT. OF AN APARTMENT. A man in his mid-twenties is primping in front of a mirror in a bathroom. He’s wearing artificially distressed jeans and an Ed Hardy t-shirt beneath an unbuttoned dress shirt with the collar “popped.” He sprays himself with an excessive amount of body spray before putting on a trilby (a short-brimmed fedora).
MAN: [pointing to himself in the mirror with both hands] Look out, ladies: the man of your dreams is coming for you!
The shot becomes a freeze-frame and becomes black and white. We hear the man from earlier speaking in voice over.
MAN: [VO only] Does this look familiar to you? Perhaps this reminds you of yourself or someone you know.
CUT to the man from earlier in front of a blank, white background. He is now dressed in a solid-colored sweater and khaki pants.
MAN: That was me three months ago. Pretty obnoxious, right? It turns out, I didn’t have any shame.
CUT to an animation of a human brain as the man continues speaking. The animation portrays what the man is describing.
MAN: [VO only] Shame is produced when the chemical mediocris ignominiam is released by the amygdala. Unfortunately, some people don’t produce enough shame and often become, like, just the worst. Thankfully, Humilia can help. Humilia increases the production of shame to normal levels.
CUT to a montage of the man interacting with people in various situations in an amiable way: talking to friends in a restaurant, walking a dog while accompanying a woman, turning his phone off while waiting for a movie to start, etc. During the montage, a female announcer is heard.
ANNOUNCER [VO only]: Humilia is for those who struggle with feeling adequate levels of shame in their life. Most users reported feeling ashamed of their past decisions in as little two weeks. Side effects include being polite to members of the opposite sex, feeling uncomfortable when hearing racist jokes, having better taste in movies and TV shows, no longer bragging about your honestly unimpressive bench press max, seizures, and death. Humilia is not for children or foreigners.
CUT to the man in a bar.
MAN: [to camera] With Humilia, I can actually interact with people like a normal, healthy human being. [To a woman sitting at bar] Hi, I’m Chad. What’s your name?
CUT to a splashy Humilia logo. The chemical name of Humilia, desinas irrumator, should appear in parentheses.
ANNOUNCER: [VO only] Ask your doctor if Humilia is right for you.
END
MAN: [pointing to himself in the mirror with both hands] Look out, ladies: the man of your dreams is coming for you!
The shot becomes a freeze-frame and becomes black and white. We hear the man from earlier speaking in voice over.
MAN: [VO only] Does this look familiar to you? Perhaps this reminds you of yourself or someone you know.
CUT to the man from earlier in front of a blank, white background. He is now dressed in a solid-colored sweater and khaki pants.
MAN: That was me three months ago. Pretty obnoxious, right? It turns out, I didn’t have any shame.
CUT to an animation of a human brain as the man continues speaking. The animation portrays what the man is describing.
MAN: [VO only] Shame is produced when the chemical mediocris ignominiam is released by the amygdala. Unfortunately, some people don’t produce enough shame and often become, like, just the worst. Thankfully, Humilia can help. Humilia increases the production of shame to normal levels.
CUT to a montage of the man interacting with people in various situations in an amiable way: talking to friends in a restaurant, walking a dog while accompanying a woman, turning his phone off while waiting for a movie to start, etc. During the montage, a female announcer is heard.
ANNOUNCER [VO only]: Humilia is for those who struggle with feeling adequate levels of shame in their life. Most users reported feeling ashamed of their past decisions in as little two weeks. Side effects include being polite to members of the opposite sex, feeling uncomfortable when hearing racist jokes, having better taste in movies and TV shows, no longer bragging about your honestly unimpressive bench press max, seizures, and death. Humilia is not for children or foreigners.
CUT to the man in a bar.
MAN: [to camera] With Humilia, I can actually interact with people like a normal, healthy human being. [To a woman sitting at bar] Hi, I’m Chad. What’s your name?
CUT to a splashy Humilia logo. The chemical name of Humilia, desinas irrumator, should appear in parentheses.
ANNOUNCER: [VO only] Ask your doctor if Humilia is right for you.
END
Friday, April 4, 2014
Contact
The following is the newly declassified transcript of the US government's first and only known encounter with extra-terrestrial life.
DATE: 14 June 1947, 0921
LOCATION: Outside of Roswell Army Airfield (RAAF)
CAPT [redacted]: Base, this is Capt [redacted]. Over.
RAAF: [redacted], this is Base. We copy. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: I'm picking up some weird fluctuations on my radio. Any idea what it might be? Over.
RAAF: What kind of fluctuations? Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Well, it sounds like woman's voice softly repeating a word again and again. Over.
RAAF: You're probably just picking up another channel. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: I thought that, but it's coming in over multiple channels. Plus, it's coming in clearer than your signal. Over.
RAAF: Are you hearing it now on this channel? Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Affirmative. Over.
RAAF: Well, what's the lady saying? Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Uh, I wouldn't call her a lady. She keeps saying[redacted]. Over.
RAAF: You're kidding me. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: [Laughs] That's a big negative. I told you, I can hear her clearer than I can hear you. Over.
RAAF: I'd tell you to ignore it but if the signal is strong enough to be heard loud and clear over multiple channels then it could compromise our communications. See if you contact her back and tell her get off her radio and clean up that mouth of hers. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Roger. I'll switch to an empty channel to initiate contact, leaving this channel open for normal comm. Over.
[2.35 MINUTES PASS]
CAPT [redacted]: Base, do you copy? Over.
RAAF: This is base. I copy. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: I contacted the woman on the radio as advised. She responded but she said that she lost track of a probe and asked if I had seen it. I really have no idea how to respond. Over.
RAAF: She said that she lost a probe? Ask her to describe it. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Roger. Over.
[0.55 MINUTES PASS]
CAPT [redacted]: She described the probe as disk shaped and bright silver. She said it should be flying in the area. Can we make her cut this non-sense out? Over.
RAAF: [redacted], you said that she said there should be a flying disc in the area? Can you confirm? Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Affirmative, but what does it matter? It's all hogwash. Over.
RAAF: Capt [redacted], we have unconfirmed reports in the area of a, quote, "unidentified flying object" that's been described as, quote, "saucer-shaped." Is this woman claiming responsibility for it? Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Uh, I think so. Base, what's going on? Over.
RAAF: Too soon to say. Contact her again, but stay on this channel this time. Ask her to increase her signal so that we can pick it up here. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Roger. Contacting, eh, the unknown woman on the radio. Please increase signal strength of radio broadcast.
UNKNOWN: Is this better?
CAPT [redacted]: Base, did you hear that one? Over.
RAAF: Affirmative, [redacted]. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Yes, we hear you. How did you know about the aircraft that was spotted today? Over.
UNKNOWN: I told you, it's my probe. So you've found it?
CAPT [redacted]: Please explain the purpose of the probe. Over.
UNKNOWN: I sent the probe down to gather information, but I lost contact with it. I think I forgot to charge the battery. I do that sometimes. I was able to get enough data to plug into my translator. That's how we're able to communicate. But you've found my probe?
CAPT [redacted]: I don't know. What do you mean, "translator?" You a Jap? Over.
UNKNOWN: No, I'm a Xendarian. I'm from a planet similar to yours but my star is a bit larger. I was sent on a peaceful mission to see if your people are interested in interstellar travel.
CAPT [redacted]: Get serious. You expect me to believe you're an alien? Over.
UNKNOWN: Tell me Capt [redacted], how can I have superior radio equipment to you? Also, your people on the ground didn't detect any unaccounted for aircraft in the area and yet my probe was clearly seen. Either I'm from a planet more advanced than yours or I'm using secret technology to play games with you. And before you ask if I'm hostile, if I'm as advanced as I say, you'd already be dead if I wanted you to be. I will be happy to land my ship and explain everything, I simply want to retrieve my probe first.
RAAF: This is the Roswell Army Airfield. We have collected the probe but it suffered heavy damage in a crash. It's mostly wreckage. Over.
UNKNOWN: [Sighs] That's disappointing. Well, I'll still collect what's left. I'll let you know when I'm ready to land.
CAPT [redacted]: This is all so strange. I must ask, why did you keep repeating that obscenity earlier? Over.
UNKNOWN: What do you mean? I was using inappropriate language?
CAPT [redacted]: You kept saying [redacted]. Over.
UNKNOWN: Yes, that's my name. I don't like having my translator find an equivalent in your language. I had tried to contact my probe with all of my other communications equipment but that didn't work so I tried calling out my name on different radio frequencies. Every Xendarian probe is programed to return when it hears its owners voice call his or her own name.
CAPT [redacted]: Your name is [redacted]? Over.
UNKNOWN: Yes. I've always liked it. What does it mean in your language? I haven't had a chance to look it up yet.
CAPT [redacted]: It means [redacted]. Over.
UNKNOWN: That's disgusting! How could you twist around such a nice name into THAT! You know what? Forget it. I'll mark you down as uninterested in our services. You don't deserve our tech. I'm out of here. Keep the probe for all I care.
CAPT [redacted]: Hello? [redacted], do you copy? Over.
RAAF: Her signal's gone dead. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Base, what just happened? Over.
RAAF: I have no idea. No way General [redacted]'s going to believe this. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: I don't believe it and I was here! Do you think this one's going to be classified, just to cover up how weird this whole thing was, like with [redacted]? Over.
RAAF: Probably. Now head back to base. I have a feeling we'll need to debrief. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Roger wilco. Over and out.
END OF TRANSCRIPT
DATE: 14 June 1947, 0921
LOCATION: Outside of Roswell Army Airfield (RAAF)
CAPT [redacted]: Base, this is Capt [redacted]. Over.
RAAF: [redacted], this is Base. We copy. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: I'm picking up some weird fluctuations on my radio. Any idea what it might be? Over.
RAAF: What kind of fluctuations? Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Well, it sounds like woman's voice softly repeating a word again and again. Over.
RAAF: You're probably just picking up another channel. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: I thought that, but it's coming in over multiple channels. Plus, it's coming in clearer than your signal. Over.
RAAF: Are you hearing it now on this channel? Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Affirmative. Over.
RAAF: Well, what's the lady saying? Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Uh, I wouldn't call her a lady. She keeps saying[redacted]. Over.
RAAF: You're kidding me. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: [Laughs] That's a big negative. I told you, I can hear her clearer than I can hear you. Over.
RAAF: I'd tell you to ignore it but if the signal is strong enough to be heard loud and clear over multiple channels then it could compromise our communications. See if you contact her back and tell her get off her radio and clean up that mouth of hers. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Roger. I'll switch to an empty channel to initiate contact, leaving this channel open for normal comm. Over.
[2.35 MINUTES PASS]
CAPT [redacted]: Base, do you copy? Over.
RAAF: This is base. I copy. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: I contacted the woman on the radio as advised. She responded but she said that she lost track of a probe and asked if I had seen it. I really have no idea how to respond. Over.
RAAF: She said that she lost a probe? Ask her to describe it. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Roger. Over.
[0.55 MINUTES PASS]
CAPT [redacted]: She described the probe as disk shaped and bright silver. She said it should be flying in the area. Can we make her cut this non-sense out? Over.
RAAF: [redacted], you said that she said there should be a flying disc in the area? Can you confirm? Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Affirmative, but what does it matter? It's all hogwash. Over.
RAAF: Capt [redacted], we have unconfirmed reports in the area of a, quote, "unidentified flying object" that's been described as, quote, "saucer-shaped." Is this woman claiming responsibility for it? Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Uh, I think so. Base, what's going on? Over.
RAAF: Too soon to say. Contact her again, but stay on this channel this time. Ask her to increase her signal so that we can pick it up here. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Roger. Contacting, eh, the unknown woman on the radio. Please increase signal strength of radio broadcast.
UNKNOWN: Is this better?
CAPT [redacted]: Base, did you hear that one? Over.
RAAF: Affirmative, [redacted]. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Yes, we hear you. How did you know about the aircraft that was spotted today? Over.
UNKNOWN: I told you, it's my probe. So you've found it?
CAPT [redacted]: Please explain the purpose of the probe. Over.
UNKNOWN: I sent the probe down to gather information, but I lost contact with it. I think I forgot to charge the battery. I do that sometimes. I was able to get enough data to plug into my translator. That's how we're able to communicate. But you've found my probe?
CAPT [redacted]: I don't know. What do you mean, "translator?" You a Jap? Over.
UNKNOWN: No, I'm a Xendarian. I'm from a planet similar to yours but my star is a bit larger. I was sent on a peaceful mission to see if your people are interested in interstellar travel.
CAPT [redacted]: Get serious. You expect me to believe you're an alien? Over.
UNKNOWN: Tell me Capt [redacted], how can I have superior radio equipment to you? Also, your people on the ground didn't detect any unaccounted for aircraft in the area and yet my probe was clearly seen. Either I'm from a planet more advanced than yours or I'm using secret technology to play games with you. And before you ask if I'm hostile, if I'm as advanced as I say, you'd already be dead if I wanted you to be. I will be happy to land my ship and explain everything, I simply want to retrieve my probe first.
RAAF: This is the Roswell Army Airfield. We have collected the probe but it suffered heavy damage in a crash. It's mostly wreckage. Over.
UNKNOWN: [Sighs] That's disappointing. Well, I'll still collect what's left. I'll let you know when I'm ready to land.
CAPT [redacted]: This is all so strange. I must ask, why did you keep repeating that obscenity earlier? Over.
UNKNOWN: What do you mean? I was using inappropriate language?
CAPT [redacted]: You kept saying [redacted]. Over.
UNKNOWN: Yes, that's my name. I don't like having my translator find an equivalent in your language. I had tried to contact my probe with all of my other communications equipment but that didn't work so I tried calling out my name on different radio frequencies. Every Xendarian probe is programed to return when it hears its owners voice call his or her own name.
CAPT [redacted]: Your name is [redacted]? Over.
UNKNOWN: Yes. I've always liked it. What does it mean in your language? I haven't had a chance to look it up yet.
CAPT [redacted]: It means [redacted]. Over.
UNKNOWN: That's disgusting! How could you twist around such a nice name into THAT! You know what? Forget it. I'll mark you down as uninterested in our services. You don't deserve our tech. I'm out of here. Keep the probe for all I care.
CAPT [redacted]: Hello? [redacted], do you copy? Over.
RAAF: Her signal's gone dead. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Base, what just happened? Over.
RAAF: I have no idea. No way General [redacted]'s going to believe this. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: I don't believe it and I was here! Do you think this one's going to be classified, just to cover up how weird this whole thing was, like with [redacted]? Over.
RAAF: Probably. Now head back to base. I have a feeling we'll need to debrief. Over.
CAPT [redacted]: Roger wilco. Over and out.
END OF TRANSCRIPT
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