Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
He believed in following rules, and had one for everything. Rules helped expedite life by reducing the time and energy needed to think about things, freeing him to relax. His number one rule was not to get close to anyone or to have a pet. Number two was, only wash items he felt like folding.
He ended up buying a lot of clothes, and was forced to create a rule that he would buy only used clothing. Others didn’t seem to understand, but then, they were operating under a different set of rules.
Floofisode (catfinition) – a brief event or group of events in a cat’s life that helps shape its relationships or define its personality.
In use: The cat knocked a lamp to the floor in pursuit of a bug, breaking the lamp, a floofisode that cemented their wary, but loving, relationship.
She’d never had one before, but she thought it was time. Everyone else had one. That made it time. Otherwise, she was not part of the norm. She liked being part of the norm.
They were so tiny, they amazed her. She walked past their cages, looking down and studying the inhabitants. A few made noises at her, but most stayed back, wary and watchful. It was one of the latter that attracted her.
Stopping before his cage, she knew he was the one. White, with brown hair and a beard, he looked older than most. Older ones were rarely adopted. His clothes smelled; she would need to buy him new clothes. They took care of themselves, but often needed supplies. Besides food, he would need grooming materials and clothes. The Center sold it all, goods the Forces had captured and brought back with them for the pets.
“Open the cage,” she said. “I want to see this one.”
He seemed to realize something was going on because he stood and stepped forward. His tiny hands were balled into fists. The inhabitants of the other cages began making noise as his cage opened. He stared up at her as she leaned in and picked him up.
“Careful,” the slave said.
“I am,” she said, resentful of the other’s tone and words. “I know what I’m doing.”
The slave scuttered back.
The human fit in her hand. He was so small, delicate, and light. “He has blue eyes,” she said.
“Yes,” the slave said.
She liked his blue eyes. “How old is he?”
“He’s fifty, in human years.”
“How long will he live?”
“He’s been treated. I’ll probably live another hundred human years with proper care, which is about twenty-five of our years.”
“I know. Do you have clothes for him?”
“Yes, I think so. He’s average. I’m sure we can find something to fit him.”
“Then I’ll take him.” She held the human up so he was level with eyes. “I will call you Riajin,” she said.
He squeaked back.
He was so cute.
A song is trapped in my stream. I’m sharing it to dislodge it from my consciousness.
Imagine Dragons seem skilled at hooking me. I like several of their songs. I shared “Believer” before. I’ve heard “Thunder” a few times this week; it’s the song that’s gotten stuck. So here it is, for you, Imagine Dragons with “Thunder.”
Sing along with it:
Thunder, thunder
Thunder, thun-, thunder
Thun-thun-thunder, thunder, thunder
Thunder, thun-, thunder
Thun-thun-thunder, thunder
Thunder, feel the thunder
Lightning then the thunder
Thunder, feel the thunder
Lightning then the thunder
Thunder, thunder
Thunder
You ever notice how thunder starts looking weird as a word after typing it several times?
No, me, neither.
It’s a risky business,
this writing business,
trying to make stories out of your thoughts.
It’s a risky business,
this writing business,
putting the words in the write way.
You have these images,
these sounds and scenes,
Floating up through your head.
Yeah, and if you’re not fast enough,
not alert enough,
that stuff all fades to dead.
You know, it’s a risky business,
this writing business,
and all that it entails.
But if you keep trying,
and you never stop writing,
They can never say you failed.
Michael Seidel, writer 