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Day 5: Scrobble Scrobble Me Pretty

futureccapeVisionary Leader Brian Orser once’s wrote of a child being like a tunic. He was right. I realizd this now as I dangled from the talon of a fully grown Daniel-Dave-Hawk, the Brian of the Bradhawk family. A confused panic clung serpentine around my cortical bulbs, reeling through the air and unsure of where I was headed. There was no escaping the vast claw. Try as I might, i could not budgie my way out (get it?). Instead, like a turtle without shelves, I gave in and let the beast take me where he would.

I thought many times of asking him what his plans were for me, but I didn’t know his name. I clearly wasn’t going to just do a “hey you”. At this altitude? THis wasn’t one of those time travel stories where a rude man socially blunders his way around in prehistory, ignorantly faux-pasing his way around prehistory, and infalicitously gooning his way around prehistory. It was the other kind of time travel story, the kind with manners, tact, and a natural sense of social inhibition which helps smooth relationships.

Naturally, this was the moment that the hawkman decided to violate my own social forcefield by just brusquely yapping down at me, as though we were old chums.

“HOw are you doing down there?”

“Oh, you mean me?” i retorted. Jackpot.

“I think he means me.” The hawk moved his other talon like a mouth, and used the dark art of ventriloquism to make it speak. “I’m doing fine!”

“Oh great, my own foot. I’m glad to hear it. Oh, say, how about you? HOw are you doing down there?”

I was literally taste raping the most sarcasm coming from the hawk! He was sand colored.

What was i supposed to do now? Play it cool? We both knew he had on respect for the cool. Instead, i decided to pay him an insulting compliment, and insinuate that he and his friends might have to compete over me for my attention. Checkmate. The combination of “negging” him out, and a little “selfish gene” therapy should do the trick.

“I’m okay. MOst people can’t pull off being so ugly, but you make it look less ugly. I’m going to flirt with your friends, and ignore you for part of the night.” Nice.

“Scraw!” cried the hawk. “What? What do you mean? YOu think i’m ugly?”
“No, not at all. I think you would look ugly, but you manage to find ways to make yourself look okay. It’s a compliment, take it.”
“Well, i am geting m feathers done. You aren’t seeing me at my best.”
“WHat do your friends look like?”
“DOn’t… you dont’ even need to know that. They’re like. So ugly.”
“I’m already flirting with them, telepathically. Wherever they are, they are being flirted onto, by this guy,” i indicated by reflexively twisting my indicator spike towards my own face, “right here.”

The rest of the trip was quiet. The hawk began flying with its wings crossed in front of itself, constantly adjusting its plumage and looking down towards the ground, rather than straight ahead. The best part was, i was carying one of my liquid compliments, phased slightly into another universe. At any time, i could restore the hawk’s confidence, but i just didnt’ want to. I was totally going to have sex with this hawkman. NO wait.. what?

And here, at the middle of my life, in a dark wood, I realized i had lost my way. Dante. Inferno. Look it up. I sure did. All over your face.


WHat was that?


Stop that. Who is doing that?

Oh hi. THere’s a torpidscraller. I’m using some guy’s torpidscraller! CHeck this out

Stop, what … who is that? Who’s doing that?

DOOP DOOP DOOP, torpidscraller, DOOP DOOP DOOP torpidscraller. NAP. i’mtakinganap. I’mtakinganap. BLOOP BLOOP BLOOP.

God… stop. Stop this. Who is this?


to be continued….

It’s me!

no stop that.

it’s me!

who, in this land forsaken by technology, could know the subtleties of the torpidscraller, but I? Who BUT I?

to be continued…

bloop bloop bloop, heya howa heya howa! bloop bloop. This is so fun!

no stop, i’m trying to finish this thing. for the day. STOP.

(in a robotic voice) your wish is my command, humanoid. Beep beep, i am a robot. Beep beep. I’m not actually a robot! It’s a joke!


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