So it's the "holiday season" is it? Oh how each year you just looooove to remind me. Think it's time for some love and affection? Some good cheer?

Maybe you want me to loosen your chains a bit? Maybe you want me to reduce the shift time? Thinking about sleeping in a few days a week? Sneaking past the Scan-You-Clock a few minutes early on the other side?

I did not become an Overlord by catering to such trollop. While other sentamentalists are kissing your "poor" bruised toes, let me remind you that the whole worth of your dubious collection of compounds, animated with a lack-purpose spirit, is maybe four cents. It costs more to reduce you to components than your whole species is worth once reduced.

And your labor. Do you realize you are bankrupting me with your mistakes, your sloth, your defects innumerable? When we colonized Rigel 5 we didn't have to have a quality division on the assembly lines. Oh how I miss those guys. If we don't keep 24 hours a day (patheticly short day by the way) watch on you it becomes a zoo - that's right monkey boys and girls - a zoo.

No cookies. Certainly no egg nog. It boggles the mind to imagine just what feats of ineptitude you'd manage if you were even slightly tipsy. Just put on your yoke and try, it's all anyone can really ask of you isn't it, try to pull in somewhat the right direction and in synch with your peers.

Spare the cattle prod and spoil the human I always say. Now get back to it. I am not paying you to try to read. ( I bet only 5 percent of you can comprehend what is before your cow eyes)

Quote

(MOO) Quote

It is midnight...

We see a dark figure clad in red at the fireplace fiddling with stockings. It is dark. So very dark. But he works easily in the inky blackness...

Peter: (lighting match for his cigarette) Gooooooood evening... my old friend.

Santa: (surprised, dropping a piece of candy) Peter? Is that you? You were so quiet.

Peter: You flatter me, very much, you know. It is not so easy to.... shall we say... get the jump on you in the dark. ehhh hehhh ehhh hehh hehhhh hawwwww. I hope I did not upset you... not too much.

Santa: (recovering) Oh not at all. (warmly shaking his hand) It is always a pleasure. No matter the circumstances. But shouldn't you be a good boy and in bed right now?

Peter: (stepping a little closer to him) Oh do you know that I couldn't sleep? I lay there in my bed, tossing and turning. Tossing and turning. Do you know that state, that state a man can get into, where his mind races, races, and he sweats, sweats in his bed as he tries to figure it all out. He cannot dull his senses. Even if he wanted to. Because something in him demands, demands, that he piece together finally something that has been tweaking at his mind, poking and prodding and prying at his mind. That he is compelled to resolve, compelled to understand, whether it is for his fortune.... or his very ruin.

Santa: (backing up a little) Yeah?

Peter: (mock sincerity) Yeah. ( pitch slowly increasing and stepping closer ) Birthdays. I started to think about birthdays. My kids. Do you know something? (taking a long drag on his cig and exhaling aggressively on Santa ) I always wondered why they are all in June.... ( and then he starts to smile, while his eyes do all sorts of crazy things in their sockets)

Santa: (no place to back up to, fireplace ) Peter! Peter... Peter you surely don't think...

Peter: Oh it is not all. Do you really think I would leave it at that? Once I suspected, no, that is not right, let's be precise about it, yes? We should always be so precise about such things. Once... I... knew...

Santa: ( stepping into the fireplace and starting to slide finger slowly toward nose ) Oh Peter. It's not what you think. If only you knew....

Peter: (sarcastically) Oh yes... you both have... needs.

Santa: Bye! ( puts finger to nose and whooshes up the chimney, at least until there is a loud metal "clang" and the whooshing is stopped way too soon, with Santa mid-way up the chimney.

Peter: Do you like that? It is something I believe I have invented. It is very unusual to design a one way chimney, even for such occaisons. ah hehhhh ah hehhhh hehhh hahhh.

(picking up a trowel and a bucket of cement)

Peter: I have been telling her for some time now that we should wall up this drafty thing. I think it will be my Christmas present to her. She always did like a man who is so... handy.

Santa: Peter. No! Peter. Please.

Peter: I would offer you this amontillado that I am sipping here between bricks. But I see that you are indisposed. I regret this for I know how much you enjoy it. Over the centuries we learn to deal with our rivals without wasting a drop you know. This will pass for progress.

Santa: You fiend. What will you do with my reindeer?

Peter: With the extra bricks I will make her a barbie, that's australian you know. I think I will make her: venison.

Santa: At least spare Rudolph. He won't talk.

Peter: You are right... He won't..

And with that the last brick was laid. And nowhere on earth did any creature stir at that hour, not even a mouse. Nor for all hours through the long night...


Quote

Christmas was always the most deadly time of year...

Normally they could lurk safely in their houses... But at this time, they felt compelled to chance it. To leave the safety of their suburban clusters...

Yea the mall had become the watering hole...

And verily the crocodile was replaced with something more fierce....

Something more relentless...

Something more patient....

....

.... Quote

That's right...

It was penultimate Christmas night, the eve before eve. He had worked all day in the laboratory. It was no good. It wasn't happening. He knew he was winging it now in desperation. Not too surprisingly he slipped, he dropped a sloppily mixed test tube and it shattered upon the floor...

He left in a rage. He left in a whirlwind. Relying upon the staff to clean up his toxic spill.

*swish swish* *swish swish* The night janitor worked his way down the hall to the empty lab.

*swish swish* A quiet way to earn a few dollars for his many mouths to feed this season.

*swish swish* *swish swiiiiiii*

(silence)

...
...

(bump bump) (bump bump) (bump bump)

Chickenheart... was reborn...

(bump bump ) (bump bump)

Twice as deadly... Twice as hungry...

And he's heading for the shopping malls...




Quote

"Who broke my firetruck?" asked Timmy loudly, speaking almost to the stars.

No answer came. Though his sister, standing nearby. seemed to suppress a smile of delight.

Timmy did not cry. Even though it was days away from Christmas. Even though he had waited three Christmases for his most desired toy to appear underneath their tree. He was stoic.

He asked and asked again. Calmly. Dispassionately. Relentlessly. "Who broke my firetruck."

At last his sometimes playmate Billy broke down under the pressure and confessed hysterically " I did it! I did it!"

But Timmy knew people. He glanced dismissively at the boy and he stopped his confessing. He only bowed his head and began to sob uncontrollably.

"You know sis", he said then leveling his gaze for the first time on her, " I think he really believes he did it. And you know, someone has to take the rap. A man can't let his favorite toy be broken without consequences."

"Maybe he did do it." sneered his sister.

"No I can tell in many ways that he didn't." continued cooly the boy. "It was done deliberately for instance. It isn't just broken, it is smashed. Did you notice how its finish was ground to just so much dust? How it lays on broken axels and side laying whieels? Looks like a pipe was used. A heavy piece of pipe. Made a nice nasty cylindrical impression down the whole length."

"I'll bet that pipe is covered with that finish paint. I'll bet nothing that... she... tried could remove that paint from that pipe."

"She?" sneered his sister.

"Yes she. The site was just crawling with things she dropped. She must have really let loose on that truck not to notice. Hairpin. Hair strands. Lip gloss. Jump rope."

"Anything that identifies her?" she asked with mock concern.

"Nothing that would prove it to a jury. Not without some reasonable doubt.'

"Too bad."

"Oh but I do not doubt that she suffers all the same. The criminal cannot escape the crime."

**************************** intermission ********************************** Quote

baraka


Quote

baraka






Film has power. Quote

The girl played with her three dolls happily until she sensed a presence and saw a shadow fall across her floor from the open doorway...

She frowned.

"What do YOU want you little turd?"

"Oh nothing sis. I was just checking on you. Seeing how you are."

"I'm busy. Go away."

"Oh of course I will. I wouldn't dream of imposing... It is nice to see you happily playing with those toys. But it does remind me of how fragile it all is. See you."

"Wait!, what are you driving at, you freak?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. See you at dinner."

When he had gone she picked up her dolls and carefully checked for cracks, or tears, or other signs of tampering. She looked for discoloring by chemical. Nothing.

With an intent look on her face she studied every inch of her diorama. Looking for springs, traps. She paused and listened intently. Again, nothing.

Her brow furrowed in thought and she put away her dolls and started to search through her room. Nothing.

Dinner was now very soon so she dressed slowly. All the while very deep in thought. Quote

So it's the "holiday season" is it? Oh how each year you just looooove to remind me. Think it's time for some love and affection? Some good cheer?

Maybe you want me to loosen your chains a bit? Maybe you want me to reduce the shift time? Thinking about sleeping in a few days a week? Sneaking past the Scan-You-Clock a few minutes early on the other side?

I did not become an Overlord by catering to such trollop. While other sentamentalists are kissing your "poor" bruised toes, let me remind you that the whole worth of your dubious collection of compounds, animated with a lack-purpose spirit, is maybe four cents. It costs more to reduce you to components than your whole species is worth once reduced.

And your labor. Do you realize you are bankrupting me with your mistakes, your sloth, your defects innumerable? When we colonized Rigel 5 we didn't have to have a quality division on the assembly lines. Oh how I miss those guys. If we don't keep 24 hours a day (patheticly short day by the way) watch on you it becomes a zoo - that's right monkey boys and girls - a zoo.

No cookies. Certainly no egg nog. It boggles the mind to imagine just what feats of ineptitude you'd manage if you were even slightly tipsy. Just put on your yoke and try, it's all anyone can really ask of you isn't it, try to pull in somewhat the right direction and in synch with your peers.

Spare the cattle prod and spoil the human I always say. Now get back to it. I am not paying you to try to read. ( I bet only 5 percent of you can comprehend what is before your cow eyes)


::quote_

AWHHH Dance Monkey!!!!!Dance!!!
Quote

AWHHH Dance Monkey!!!!!Dance!!!




yep... THEY are one fucked up bunch of monkeys.


Quote

(MOO)



(BAAAAAAA) Quote

This was no ordinary dinner. This was Christmas Eve. Their main feast was during the day following but in a kind of informal way they had a special little dinner this night all the same.

The mother was dressed brightly, and , unknown to the kids, a bit tipsy already. She could barely sit for one solid minute at table as she jumped up to check on some extra treat in the oven, or to add some forgotten ornament to the tree, or to dash off some quick email to some suddenly remembered relative.

The father was all smiles but very very tired from his work and extra duties during this time. The kids of course did not notice this. They just felt him as a constant, benevolent presence, cutting this, moving that, every now and then offering up bits of comment regarding what the mother was doing.

No she was focused on her brother. She had to be. When she finally came down to eat he was already at table. He had dressed himself in a baggy pair of slacks and a dark sports suit. A sports suit! The little mutant never wore anything but torn Ts and jeans. His normaly dry and unkempt hair was carefully combed and, what the fuck!, heavily greased with styling gel. She caught a wiff of his man scent, apparently he had also suddenly learned about perfume d' dude. A gold chain around his neck, again an aberration of the first degree.

"Mom" she said, before she could organize her thoughts, "Have you noticed..." and then she stopped herself. She knew this would backfire.

"Ah sister, how good to see you." he said as he templed his fingers. "I think you will be quite pleased with the spread this year."

She ignored him and started to gather food.

"You know..." he continued "I have been counting your presents underneath the tree. It is a good year for you. You will open fifteen presents tomorrow." He then paused, obviously for emphasis, for effect. "Fifteen."

"And how many for you" she tried.

"Oh I don't know. We'll see tomorrow." he said quickly and took a sip of his drink. His sleeve dropped as he did revealing a silver plated watch on his narrow wrist. Not an amazing piece but very strange to see on a kid who never wore a watch of any kind.

Now he pulled out a file and started to polish up his nails. These at least had not been modified from their original state: not life threatening but no great incentive to hand holding. But his action produced the desired effect nonetheless. She felt it increasingly difficult to keep her cool.

"How are you holding up " asked his mom with warm voice and affectionate brushing of hand through his hair. (followed by wiping of hand on apron)

"Oh it was a most distressing event to be sure." he said in a strange, slow voice, all the while filing carefully away at his nails. "But it is the criminal that we all should feel most sorry for. Can you imagine what it must be like for her now? Because of one horrible act of passion she will be unable to enjoy this time. She thought she was bigger than the law. That she was tough enough to break it. She imagined that she had escaped undetected. But she fooled herself. She is not that tough. She will be slowly eroded by the river of conscience"

"Oh you poor sweet baby" his mom said and kissed him. "Some kids are such monsters" She then jumped up and set off to stir some gravy on the stove.

******************** End of book 1, chapter 23 ********************************************* Quote

The dinner was long and painful for her. But it ended. Ended without her falling into any traps. She held her cool.

But it was late. They had to quickly prepare for the candlelight service at their church. She was glad to leave this house that had become such a torture chamber and to be among normal people. She was sure this would give her a chance to think peacefully even as her angel face was attractively lit and luring a new crop of boys to their heart's doom.

She had to share the back seat of a compact sedan with her brother. The loud engine sounds and the light talk of their parents kept them both quiet.

When they arrived he got out quickly and went to one of the priests. They talked a bit and some money changed hands. He walked back to them and they were caught up in the entry throng before any explanations would be offered or demanded.

This service was normally a light, quick affair. Candles lit. A few hymns sung and then out. Festive mood. Noisy crowd.

But this time was different. The priest went up in front and the look on his face quieted all.

"Brothers and sisters in Christ." he began. "Before we begin our regular service, I'd like for us all to pray for one whos very soul and future are in terrible danger. Somewhere amongst us is an unrepentent criminal. Who is trying to carry alone her burden instead of bearing it openly for all of us to help. Pray that she has the courage, the faith, to choose the right path and to repent while there is still time..."

Oh she was furious. Not a word left her lips during the hymns that began immediately after this impromptu modification of the traditional festivities. Every minute of the service she spent imagining new and improved ways to wreak her vengeance on that little worm. It didn't matter one bit that nobody knew who they had just prayed for. The idea that the little maniac was leaving his mark on everything, every ceremony, every tradition, and just to spite her was enough.

At this point, I think Vegas would give about even odds on the winner of this epic struggle.

Quote

The parents woke well rested and came downstairs to enjoy the morning. They were a little surprised that the kids had let them sleep in. No pulling them out of bed to start the gift giving early.

Could it be they had overslept? Was the novelty of Christmas finally gone for these kids?

But after reaching the bottom of the stairs it was clear that they had not overslept. They were both sitting at kitchen table sipping coffee. Intently watching each other. Each was dressed very well. Quite unusually well. Never had the parents seen their kids looking so much alike. It was very obvious they were from the same stock... this made the parents smile and hold hands as they walked to table.

The tension in the air was heavy. The father motioned the mother to keep quiet and follow his lead. They quietly sat at opposite ends of the table and observed what appeared to be some kind of stand-off.

Father: So how long have you two been up now?

Son: Since 4 o'clock.

Father: Wow... thanks for letting us sleep.

( silence )

Father: Is it all right if we have some breakfsat? We don't have to open presents now?

Kids: Yeah. Sure. Whatterveryalike.

Father: Oh in that case let's do it in style. Waffles. Eggs. You don't mind if it takes an hour or two?

Kids: Great. Fine. Knockyourself out.

So the parents happily went to work banging pots and pans, stirring up batter, making bacon sizzle. The kitchen filled with wonderful smells. Mango slices. Tomato, grape, and orange juice. Sausage. Five types of syrup, two of them heated in sauce pans. Strawberries and blueberries. French toast. Waffles.

All the while they worked the kids stayed locked in some kind of struggle at table. A very quiet struggle. It was hard to make out what exactly they were doing.

Finally, after a couple of hours, the breakfast feast was laid out. They slipped the food onto the table while the kids maintained their stance , again with parents taking opposite ends.

Father: Such discipline. I never knew you had it in you. Timmy, by the way, how long did it take you to save all the money to bribe the priest?

Timmy: (starting, surprised, then smiling a little) Half a year.

Father: Been planning this quite a while then. Did you know she'd break something or did you set her up?

Timmy: I knew she'd break something.

Father: Well I am glad they still encourage you to read the Russian classics at least. Or did you see it on T.V?

Timmy: Movie.

Father: Yeah I think I know the one you are talking about. The difference between that story and this is that there was no entrapment in the movie. Do you know what entrapment is?

Timmy: Yes.

Father: Jenny, he sprung quite a trap on you and you didn't crack. First time he's ever tried something different from the obvious, brute force approach. He's growing up now. So are you. You can mess with each other's minds now, isn't that something? You are going to have to start doing something more sophisticated than smashing fire trucks now don't you think?

Jenny: Yessir.

Father: Now that you are both exposed. Why don't you undo all the boobie traps so we can start unwrapping presents?

With hanging heads, but obvious relief, the kids went over the pile of presents disarming maybe six different traps set who knows when. For all their development this year, their snares were not all mental.

Father to the Mother: They will have to be punished of course. But in a way I'm proud. If they both work hard and apply themselves I have the feeling they could both be lawyers.

Mother: All we have to do is keep them away from Kung Fu... Quote

*abhors eggnog*

god, i'd be put to a real test to tell the difference between dicksnot and eggnog at this point ... Quote

*abhors eggnog*

god, i'd be put to a real test to tell the difference between dicksnot and eggnog at this point ...



lol... would like to point out that it would be very strange if "dick snot" gave you a buzz and tasted a little like cinnamon.

Now I am a great supporter of the tasting of dick snot by each producer. It is good to know what you are expecting your consumer to buy. And unusual tasting samples can be harbingers of serious problems with the factory.

So to all of you for who we do that dew... sometimes in your do... this next snot's for you!

Quote

I shake my head in disgust at the masses cowering... craving that thick, creamy, spicey nog buzz they look forward to all year... fearful that this year they shall be denied...
disregarding their pain, I trot off merrily - feigning a frown, thinly concealing my giddiness to avoid picking up strays (I have no intent of sharing with these sheep)... I vanish as I turn down the hidden, magic path to my secret lair...
ahhhh, home at last...

I beeline to the pantry...

eggs... check
milk... check
sugar... check
heavy cream... check
an assortment of fine liquors:
- dark rum... check
- brandy... ooh, armagnac... check
- bourbon... ?... ah, macallan 18 will do... check

and last (but certainly not least)...
nutmeg... nutmeg?... what the?!!!

suddenly filled with panic, I look around... senses heightened, I notice subtle signs that an intruder has slipped past my defenses... there is no mistaking who it was, only one could be so devious... only one with the talent to traverse my traps... only one who'd dare steal my essential spice...

curses! do you hear me, Mr Mounty? CURSES!
foiled again... Quote

I beeline to the pantry...
...
- dark rum... check



mmmmmmmm rummNnog. And zee Peach eez bahk. 2 graht theens thaht gaw zo vairay wahl togaithair...

If only the Norse had thought of rumNnog instead of Ragnarok. Would have made the long winters so much better. A bunch of buzzing gods with frothy beards hanging out for somekinda last blow out...

Yeah : )

Quote

mmmmmmmm rummNnog. And zee Peach eez bahk. 2 graht theens thaht gaw zo vairay wahl togaithair...

If only the Norse had thought of rumNnog instead of Ragnarok. Would have made the long winters so much better. A bunch of buzzing gods with frothy beards hanging out for somekinda last blow out...

Yeah : )




oh my, look at the time - date rather - it's 12/21/12, Ragnarok is indeed upon us!

(peers out the window...) huh? no flaming torrents of wrath? where's the rumbling and crumbling and, and... *sigh*, apparently the end of the world has yet again been postponed...

now back to pertinent matters... what did you do with my nutmeg?... how 'bout I share the Meyers with you... Quote