“And if you’ll all come around this way, you can see a neural key to our subject,” she explained to the small crowd. “Obviously, we can all see why his skin appears to have that pink glow,” she went on, everyone marveling at the massive ball of energy that seemed encompassed in glass, secured by black pipes.
“But what is it, exactly?” asks a for-good-measure colored character, reflecting the author’s own uncertainty.
“We don’t really know, but it is rumored to hold unimaginable amounts of knowledge on what the internet was like before people had protection from hackers,” mused the guide, tapping her cane lightly on the device.
That was for the reverendmarley, because it’s Codewriter fiction (or to Japanese cyberpunks, Tobu). XD
Last weekend, my adult frog crawled up the filter and escaped while I was staying in Detroit. My mom found it, gray and unmoving, out in the kitchen by the cat’s dish, and “screamed loud enough to wake Christopher from a sound sleep”. They dumped it back in the tank; the lump of squishy, gray flesh and collected cat hair sunk to the bottom in such a way that Mom assumed meant death.
3 days later, and the frog appears to be fine aside from a few bruises. I have no idea how it managed to survive without any breaks or puncture wounds. Because the amphibian had collected so much gunk from the carpet, the tank had to be cleaned after I’d just done that the previous weekend. Two of the most important things I’ve learned about water frogs: 1. They will treat everything else in the tank like feeder fish (except the actual feeder fish in there right now, of course), and 2. They will escape unless they are locked down. A secure lid, 6 more gallons of drinking water… the mess is officially taken care of. God damn. This frog was supposed to be easy.
Gay Dan Grows Up
A lot has happened recently that I haven’t had time to record. Dan (my gay male escort) turned 21 when I wasn’t around to celebrate, but I presented him with some sandalwood-scented bath salts and planned on treating him, later. The opportunity came yesterday once he instant messaged me about a state of depression and faulty engine, so I took him to town and allowed him to scoop up some Reese’s Pieces for Wedding Crashers, one of Vince Vaughn’s best projects yet. In exchange for my generosity, I made him run out to the concession stand whenever my drink was gone. And he’s not really my gay male escort; I just said that because he hates it when I say that.
One of my best friends, Nick the Twin, has stopped by a few times for Subway and whatnot. It’s funny – we’ll be chatting from neighboring cities about one thing or another and then decide in 5 lines or less that one of us is moving from the computer chair to their car.
This summer has been awesome. Satisfied with her short feed to cyberspace, she grabbed the static lever and closed the portal.