1) All the food on the snack table is forbidden. If you want any, you have to claim it was always yours and just take it.
2) Antivaxxers are welcome to take one (1) of the complimentary blankets provided.
3) Flags on everything. Flags flags flags. Those chunks in the dip? Flags.
4) Burn something. Food or childhood conceptions of the validity of borders. Or both.
5) Neglect to read or comprehend the provided rules.
Live Action Reclining Party
I could invent a LARP where everyone plays a person who lays in a comfortable bed and naps but then I’d make too much money and be forced to retire and I’m not ready for that kind of easy life, I have a rough and tumble image to maintain.
SLEEP LARP: STANDARD EDITION
playbooks: Dozer, Yawnite, Snoozican
SLEEP LARP: STEALTH EDITION
playbooks: Rogue Sleeper, Undercover Op, Unidentified Bed Lump
SLEEP LARP: FANTASY EDITION
playbooks: Pillow Elf, Pajammies Gnome, “Human”
SLEEP LARP: IN SPAAACE
playbooks: Xenosnoozer, Mattress Marine, Blinking Night Light That Talks
SUMMER LOOKS THAT’LL MAKE YOUR EYES DESTROY
1) Pavement Gum
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2) Sleeping in a Car
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3) Ransom Note
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4) Beach’s Fevered Shell
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miscellanay
BEHIND THE 7-11
has been voted the
2019 BEST PLACE TO COVER YOURSELF WITH LEAVES AND MAKE ‘NATURE NOISES’
Thanks to all of our readers who voted!
I am in mythical shape, insofar as my body is a feared underworld upon which clothes may find themselves draped as penance for their sins.
Very thankful the local A.I. told us about the natural phenomenon of windblown pod seeds, ’cause seriously, otherwise I’d assume the knocking on the vault door was someone desperate to get in and not just some husks banging against the door in a random sequence.
Happy father’s day to all the life-bearing asteroids out there in space, striking planets and contaminating pristine systems with replicating organisms and whatnot.
Live the kind of life where authorities are compelled to check your stomach contents so they can be shocked to find a license plate.
documentary
the moon: I’m gonna hit you in the eye.
pizza: Uh, that’s sorta my thing?
me: Please… you don’t have to fight over me. I have TWO eyes. You can both hit me!
—
naturalist voice-over: And this, somehow, was “love,” red in tooth and claw, a debased nightmare fueled by evolutionary processes millions of years in the working.
if only I didn’t count on that monthly support
The backers on my Patreon this month, they uh… they voted and, uh… they said I have to go out in the woods and fight a bear?
Even though I named my $1 tier “I’m deathly afraid of bears” and my $5 tier “I can’t go into the woods, the trees have destroyed my family” and my $10 tier “You can only stop me if you compel me to destroy myself”.
Ways to “Beat the Heat”
1) Slow your metabolism and sink into a mud pit deep enough to allow you a half foot clearance above your submerged form. Wait there, in torpor, until the floods come, though the earth may crack.
2) Drink plenty of fluids, except blood, except if you’re a Dracula in which case yes even blood could help.
3) Try to “neg” the sun. Ask it how it did in school. Ask it if it physically hurts to be so widely known to have been a poor student, as incandescent balls of gas go.
RAP BATTLES I HAVE LOST and the PERSONAL INSULTS THAT BROKE ME
2015 – Mic Rushmore – My t-shirt ,likened to a pile of leaves, raked but not cleared before rain, damp, full of slugs, the raker in the hospital for exertion-related heart palpitations, in slow decline, never to return to their task
2013 – Freestyle Frenzee – My sexual history was impugned as being entirely unworthy of documenting in the perfumed diaries of any of my previous partners
2012 – Impromptu Cipher – Was called a “punk”
the stomach declines to support direct action
I’m okay with the youths forming dueling societies and wearing bright sashes indicating their success to date and prowess with the blade, but I wish they’d stick to official dueling areas.
I couldn’t go grab my lunch in my usual spot today ’cause two bravos were going at it in the potato chip aisle, flashing blades cutting open vacuum-sealed bags when they failed to land home, the air full of potato bits and seasoning dust and for what? Honor?
What is honor compared to lunch?
lost time incident 84 – good grief, melting
lost time incident 84
There’s a heat advisory today in the Bay Area as temperatures climb up to around 90, maybe, which doesn’t seem quite hot enough for a heat advisory. The weather people, though, they know we’re soft. I’m hiding inside, windows open for cross breezes, glancing out the window suspiciously at all that sunlight bouncing off the red flowers the hummingbirds are enjoying.
I haven’t been writing as much microfiction recently for two reasons: the day job has been kicking my butt, and my current preferred writing project is role-playing-related. (I’m trying to write up a horror scenario concept I came up with into a suitable condition for self-publishing.)
But there’s enough good stuff to fill out a newsletter. Want proof? Okay, here we go!
you didn’t get into one of the good wizard schools (roll 1d6)
1) A rat wearing a band-aid cordially invites you to Larry’s Spell Hut Down By the Highway
2) An email invites you to Lovely Brides Magic Delivery Upon Deposit
3) Welcome to the Magic Wand Warehouse, we prosecute shoplifters
4) An acceptance letter to Codfrey’s College (Illuminated) won’t let go of your hand
5) Univ. of Arkon Plumbottom says: You’re in!
6) Your check bounced but with Discount Wizardz, you can pay us with eggs
official U.S. high school social hierarchy reference for fiction
- TOP – The Golden Teeth Children – wealthy, have replaced much of their body with gold (internally)
- 2nd – Puppet Club Members
- 3rd – Sports Moppets
- 4th – The A/V Consortium and their Unseen Tapes
- 5th – The one kid with the leather jacket
- 6th – The one kid with the denim jacket
- 7th – Class Clowns
- 8th – Economists
- 9th – Smaller children passing as older children (trench coats, stacking, fake mustache)
- 10th – List Compilers
wake me up in 5000 years
They say dress for the job you want, which is why I’m dressed like a warrior from the distant past, awakened from my eternal slumber, determined to seek revenge (in between comical interludes where I interact clumsily with the modern era, astounded by how things have changed from back in my day).
ending theme song
Okay! Those sure were some words, hey kids? There’s no way you can mistake it for anything else. It wasn’t an ice sculpture. It wasn’t a majestic redwood, towering in the coastal mist. It wasn’t a gothic protagonist from an old paperback’s cover fleeing from a dark building on a hill while wearing only a nightgown. It wasn’t a pet’s water bowl. It wasn’t a quarterly 401k report that you’ll file unread.
The twist: OR WAS IT!?!?
Okay, gotta go, after that amazing story twist where this email was actually a redwood tree, I gotta head down to the highway on-ramp, stick out my thumb, and make it to Hollywood where The Twilight Zone collective plies their trade. I can’t hide this light under a bushel. I don’t even know where I’d find a bushel.
Oh, and real quick, if you still haven’t picked up my e-book, don’t worry: the world’s power grid is still fairly stable, so you can go download it for free (or you could pay for it, moneybags): https://gumroad.com/l/witchestown
You don’t even have to read it. Just put it on a computer or e-book reader and then update your will so, after you’re gone, your kids won’t fight about who gets to inherit it. Otherwise, they’re totally gonna. It’ll be a bloodbath.
Nobody wants that.
Well, maybe Big Blood, the industry flacks who are always bribing legislators to use more blood. But other than them…
—Michael Van Vleet
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