Twenty Nine - Swarming From Above

Sometimes when the heavens hand you a forsaking, and you decide out of spite to forsake the heavens right back, and therefore take things into your own hands and handle it yourself, the heavens double up their forsaking and make it so your hands have to get involved. And here was no exception. 

So I vowed to use my hands whether the heavens liked it or NOT (turns out they DID like it, apparently they INVENTED hands, but that's not something I knew at the time). 

I began working in swift earnest to complete my goal of having the manager seem good enough at his job to have him fired. So the first thing I did was pause to think, which I normally do by holding my breath and squeezing my nose with my fingers, which are on my hands. 

I do this knowing the lack of oxygen will force my hand, and this is what happened again, my hand was forced to let go of my nose to stop me passing out, but this time my hand also went rogue and tried to poke me in the eyes, so I had to bite it, and while it was in my mouth being bitten by my teeth, which are right near my face, I spotted 'it', with my eyes, which are also near my face, and this 'it' was an ace up my sleeve (I'd later find out that the heavens also invented faces, wow, pretty impressive). 

The ace was a type of card which strangely had an ace on it, and I spotted it poking out of my sleeve, and it reminded me that I'd been cheating at poker last week, which reminded me that I hadn't had a shower or change of clothes in a week, which reminded me that change is like a holiday, which reminded me of romantic beaches, which reminded me of romance, which reminded me of Romans, which reminded me of the coliseum, which reminded me of chariet races, and whenever I've personally been in an epic chariot race I like to cheat, and cheating reminded me of poker, which reminded me of an ace card, and this reminded me of things made of cardboard, which reminded me of beverage coasters, and more specifically that the beverage coasters in this particular restaurant were unique!

I clawed at the table. I couldn't see it  due to my neck, but I still managed to grab a coaster, and I held it in my hand and up to my eyes to observe (eyes, incidentally, were NOT invented by the heavens, but I found that out the HARD way). 

Now, I consider myself I pretty good observer, like one time I observed that I am great at observations. And another time I went to an observatory and discovered that they weren't good at observing me, so I stole a baby windmill from the garden, which let me observe that sometimes I mistake vital observation tower maneuvering technology for tiny windmills. 

But that's still not all I've observed. Consider these things I've also observed over the years:

- A lady 

- A cop 

- A piece of pie 

Pretty impressive right. So yep, I'm awesome at observations. I find that the KEY to observations is to use more than just your eyes. I recommend observing with EACH of your senses. Consider the observations above, well there was more to each of those that I would not have seen with just my eyes, for example:

- The lady SEEMED like a casual, pretty, normal, calm lady, while I observed her with my eyes, but after observing her with my nose, ears, fingers and mouth I discovered she was irate, angry, volatile and borderline violent. 

- The cop, SEEMED like he was minding his own business, and uninterested in his immediate surroundings when I observed him with my eyes, but when I added the rest of my senses I discovered him to be aggressive, vocal, handcuffy, and willing to arrest just about anyone.

- The pie didn't just look good, it felt, smelled, tasted and even sounded good, sounding almost like my friend Kev, and as if he was yelling 'ah man, that was mine you dick! Oh hey, but there's um, a lady I think you should meet, she's down the street standing right next to a cop'. 

And here in this restaurant, NOW, once again my skills of observation were strong, and I observed myself making an observation that to a casual observer would seem remarkable, but to me was merely a second ace up my sleeve, making my sleeve crowded, forcing me to free the Spring Footed Yellow Crowned Silverfish I had hidden there, but it was worth it, because, yep, I observed that - the beverage coasters in this restaurant were peculiarly, yet specifically, shaped like the small Icelandic Island of Krejuik, an island which is an island that is particularly known for its peculiar specificity, due to its spookily unnatural utterly perfect roundness! 

This was it, THE 'it' as mentioned earlier, and this 'it' was a BIG it, and NOW that I'd seen it I knew exactly what I had to do to finish the job I'd set out to do. But more than that I knew that I'd know exactly when I'd achieved it, because I promised to observe the entire thing. 

*To be continued, but not for much longer, because when I know how to attack* a problem I attack BIG, and NOW! 

*Like the time I was under attack by a swarm of bees and I stopped to think about what to do, and somehow despite getting stung in hundreds of places and passing out, I miraculously didn't get a single sting up my nose*! 

*A body part invented in a rare act of cooperation between the heavens and a guy named Luke. Can you believe it? Strange right? Someone would actually name a kid 'Luke'! Some people are so weird. 

My new character - Harry McDeely - Aussie politician, offering help to America with their issue

My new character - Harry McDeely - Aussie politician, offering help to America with their issue





 In this episode is - Isis

In this episode - guns

Twenty Eight - Sharp Ended Attack

I had much to do. So I set to it in the logical ways.

First I opened my arms out wide, tilted my head back, opened my mouth, then closed one arm up back in to adjust the treadmill I was wearing as a codpiece which had shifted to a slightly uncomfortable position (where I could see how little distance I'd run on it life time - pathetic).

I then opened my arm back out again, and then closed the other arm back again to press the off switch on my codpiece, as it turned out I must have bumped on the on switch as I was making aforementioned adjustment, then I opened that arm back out, before closing the other arm back in and turning the codpiece back on as, hey, if fate wanted in on then maybe I should listen to it.

I then shooed away a middle aged married guy who had begun setting up a TV next to my codpiece while drinking a beer, and setting it to a low speed and yet still boasting to his friend on the phone that he worked-out nearly everyday (although from where I could see he appeared to have only run a small amount on it life time - pathetic) so I was forced to curse fate for being a dick, and make a mental note to pick a more practical codpiece next time, like an exercise bike, rowing machine, or stairwell to a skyscraper.

Following this I opened my arms back out, and then checked in the mirror on the wall that my head was still tilted back, and found that it was instead titled towards the mirror for some reason, so I tilted it back to back, then checked the mirror again, and found out once again that my head was bafflingly titled towards the mirror again, a duo of actions which I repeated a dozen or so times, before smacking my forehead as I noticed that, um duh, that's not a mirror, it's a mural of a father and son fishing, so I mentally called the painter a dick, and then I realized that I'd smacked my forehead so hard that my neck was now LOCKED in the tilted back position, then I praised myself for my ingenuity, and attempted to yell to the heavens! 

At first this didn't work at all. No noise came out. Not even a peep. And I was baffled. So I let Fredrick, the mouse that lives in my left jacket pocket out to do some checking up on things. As usual, he ran straight for my mouth, hoping I had some food in there. In his defense that's where I keep his food. In a small pouch I'd had sewed to the inside of my cheek, but even so his selfishness still disappointed me. I had a problem I needed fixing, and I needed help NOW! Luckily he also completely reverse disappointed me, or pointed me, as it should be known, and bit me on the lip, and he bit me with his BIG teeth, the ones I'd had a pet dentist install on him, when I'd briefly wished he was a North African Blue Necked Black Gazelle. Unfortunately this adjustment to his regular appearance had regular-disappointed me considerably, as it reminded me that when he'd tried to dye his neck-hair blue he'd misread the instructions on the box and had instead turned it more of a mauve color. And that reminded me of another time he'd POINTED me, when he'd been named 'mouse most capable of reading English'. Which was of course one of many times the committee of Recognizing Human Skills In Rodents had regular-disappointed me. As I personally would have voted for my pet Australian Bungle Pouched Rataroo into first place, after he had COMPLETELY successfully read a bottle that had said 'poison'. And I for one don't think that his subsequent epic risk taking, leading to his death, should have disqualified him (he attempted to put poison in the neighbor's cats bowl and got his face eaten off). But Fredrick's biting my lip had identified the problem here, during the mirror debacle I must have closed my mouth. And I'd obviously forgotten to note it on my mental body movement log. So I made a mental note to punch my brain later for its mistake, and got back to the task at hand. Yelling to the heavens! 

'Can you do all the work for me?' I screamed as loud as I could, which wasn't very loud, as my voice was muffled by Fredrick raiding the pouch, opposite pointing me HARD, and also poking me with his claws, which also disappointed me and pointed me, this time in the original meaning of being pointed, although more like poked in this case, and specifically poked with his claws, which were very pointy.

Yet even with my cry muffled the answer came back clear as day.

'Nothing, I suppose'. 

It was a weird thing for the heavens to reply. And I was worried for the two staff members I could hear around the corner from where I was now standing. One of them had just asked of the other 'what's stopping you from driving him to the hospital?' And the heavens reply had sounded strangely as if it was coming right from that area. 

And it turned out that they HAD been confused. And the two of them NOW carried Kev's seemingly lifeless body to a car, and it definitely took both of them because Kev is BIG.

As I looked around it now seemed like I was the only one left in the restaurant. Admittedly I couldn't do a full reconnaissance as I wasn't completely sure I was using that word correctly, and also because due to how my neck was locked I could now only look at the ceiling. However I could tell for sure that there DEFINITELY were no customers nor staff hanging up there. 

It was clear - following logic had obviously not worked. And The heavens had forsaken me once again. I paused for a brief moment to make a note to myself to stop burning an original issue still in package Luke Skywalker figurine every morning as a sacrifice in the heavens honor. It was a tough time to lose my religion. But on the other hand, it would save me lots of time stealing from nerds, and even save me money buying all those figurines off the internet (I only steal hugs from the nerds, both they and I need them, me because of a weird unexplained dull ache I often have inside my cheek, them because of some weird unexplained thing meaning some of the Star Wars toys they own keep going up on value, and inflation hurts us all).

Logic wasn't going to help me, the heavens weren't going to help me, the staff weren't going to help me and obviously Kev wasn't going to help me, those dicks. So I was forced to do something illogical, something no one should ever do, just get the job done themselves. 

It was up to me, and me alone, to carry out this plan. It was a BIG job. But I knew I was up for the job. And I was up for it NOW.

How I handled* it coming up next. 

*Speaking of which here is a brief list of things I've handled that have pointed me just this week:

- A frustrated old lady with knitting needles.

- A baton waving conductor.

- A kid with sticky fingers.

- A knife wielding psycho.

All of which I handled with kid gloves, something that was easy, as they had kids hands in them, and that freaked them all out so they ran away. In fairness, there was an entire kid attached the the hands, the worst kind too, a laughing one, and the knife wielding psycho was the kid's mom, who was a conductor, and who liked to knit, but I don't know why she was yelling at me, she was the one who put gloves on the kid OVER sticky fingers, and made me deal it, regular- disappointing me hard! That dick. And they all pointed me, by not pointing their pointy things at me, allowing me to feel like my point about how the opposite of disappointed should be pointed was a valid point, and that's a point I will point out as often and as a sharply as I can forever! 

Things less stupid than the current US gun laws

Here at Fleeting Forever we don't tend to get political, or topical, or opinionated, or make even the slightest bit of sense. And we like it that way, because these ramblings may well one day get us out of jury duty. However sometimes something happens that we just feel like commenting on. And even THEN we usually hold our tongues. Like when we wanted to comment on the current ramshackle state of the international tongue holding championships, and we spent so much time holding our tongues trying to get into the minds of the competitors that we forgot to file a story, got tired fingers and sore tongues, and then accidentally won a silver medal, and now we can no longer 'please' our girlfriends, if you know what we mean (yeah you do, you know what we mean - they're occasional pastry chefs and we no longer have the sense of taste). 

But something happened this past weekend that we just feel the need to comment on. The latest shooting in America. And here is that comment - We're starting to think that American gun laws may be a tad dumb, possibly even EXTREMELY a tad dumb.

Phew. We did it. We had an actual option, and we made an actual point. Alright. Thankfully that business is done. 

And now because it's something we've done here on this blog from time to time in reference to stupid stuff, with an admittedly too soon light heartedness, yet still sourced from outrage and heartbreak, it's time to play - Things Less Stupid Than Other Things - and on today's episode here now are things that admittedly may not seem smart, but are still WAY smarter than letting ANYONE buy an assault rifle for personal use: 

- Deciding you want to go to the moon and making it happen by eating an entire commuter train without even a single splash of hot sauce!

- Refusing to leave the house without your lucky rabbits foot, even though you're currently a horse, and you HAD said lucky foot the day you foolishly got your mane caught in an elevator door. 

- Putting new born bear cubs in charge of teaching wise old wolves how to write applications for jobs at glass recycling facilities. 

-  Putting someone who’s as yet never left their mothers womb in charge of convincing the Vatican to let Jesus come back as a unicorn.

- Being a Kanye West fan.

- Buying a rabies infested dog in hope of using it to shape a new type of wharf order.

- Drowning an elephant to prove the existence of sponges.

- Saving up trillions of dollars to buy the great pyramids to try and bribe Monica in human-resources from complaining at you for wasting printer toner.

- Slobbering your heart in maple syrup and then standing around a pancake fundraiser hoping that people that accidentally grab your heart will end feel bad enough to buy life insurance from your cousin Artie.

- Covering your front lawn in ceramic windmills with the intent of their delightful spinning inspiring you to finally tell your estranged lover that you think we're all made of granite fearing starlight memories and that therefore you should be able to catcall at tulips.

- Cross breeding lounge chairs with recently lassoed pond builders, hoping their babies thank you with a pre-shelved framed piece of paper splattered with the sweat whisked from a light-post fighting hot air balloon. 

- Kanye West lyrics. 

That was - Things that are really stupid but are still far less stupid than the current US gun laws - And now that that's over, back to opinions. We, like most people, LOVE when foreigners have opinions on other nations hotly debated and complex decision making that they can't possibly truly understand, but even with that love strong we're pussies that have an embarrassingly huge fear of upsetting anyone, literally anyone, so even though we kind of criticized you America please still let us have US visas one day we love your onion rings and chicken fingers, and yet I don't get to have them as often as we'd like. 

Twenty Seven - A pulsating Velocity Perception

Ever since I'd spotted 'IT' things had begun moving at speed. Fast speed. Breakneck speed. Speed faster than a speeding speed train with its speed set to high, where high is the top, and where speed refers to the distance covered over a period of time, in a fast or slow sense, where the sense in this scenario in particular was fast, the forgotten sense, and where the other speed referenced above is also speed in the same sense. I had a mission. And when I have a mission I attack It NOW and in a BIG way, and fast, once again in reference to speed. 

Nothing could slow me down. I would not and could not double over a single fragment of what I was doing, what was happening, or how I happened to be doing it. I had not time nor inclination to spend one second stuck somewhere I had been before or was already. And even if I did, it wouldn't have mattered because this speed was strong. Overpoweringly strong. 

In fact this speed was so strong that it even out-lifted gym guys! And I'm talking the steroid abusing gym guys. And those are the gym guys who do a lot of steroids, and spend a lot of time lifting, and do that lifting at the gym. And let's not forget that even without the gym, the steroid taking itself can be like a yoga workout session, that is once once they've lifted so much that their arm muscles are so BIG and the gluteus-maximus is equally as BIG so it's hard to reach to penetrate with a needle. So they have to roll around on the floor struggling to reach to get the needle to penetrate with cheek, or in very rare cases instead make a friend to do it. So I'm talking speed. Which, as well as the type of speed I'm talking about, could also be a a different type of speed that required being injected into the butt cheek, but I'm not referring to that sort of speed AT ALL. 

And this speed was breakneck. So breakneck that chiropractors across North America were sensing something was in the air and were warming their voices up to be ready to say 'Seems you have a broken neck, I'll need to see you for at least six or seven sessions'. Giraffes across the Sahara were randomly bursting into tears for reasons they couldn't even fathom. And chiropractors across the Antarctic were thinking of branching out into providing not just broken neck fixing, but also therapy and anti-depressants for giraffes in the Sahara, and wondering why the hell they even thought about opening a chiropractic firm in the middle of an ice-desert. And giraffes across South America were thinking 'what, so you're going to branch out into a hot desert in Africa, how about helping us out, we're out of place too!' And the inventors of the international giraffe-chiropractor radio network were thinking 'man, maybe when we brain stormed this idea we should have considered a more lucrative couple of demographics to bring together, such as ones on the same continent, or at least the same species, but who'd have thought that giraffes didn't actually give a lot of business to chiropractors'. And brain weather reporters were reporting a new storm developing in their region to combat this initial mistake. THAT's how break-neck speedy this was.

Yep, I didn't have a SECOND to waste. Seconds were like potato chips at my friend Kev's house when he's invited you over to watch sports. You can't waste a single one. Once you've eaten all the chips that you can possibly eat it's best to just dump the rest onto the lawn for the birds to eat. Because if Kev had wanted to eat a chip or two then why did he even invite you over, and then spend six minutes looking for the exact beer you've requested from his spare fridge, he'd have just stayed home alone and eaten the chips by himself. Yep, I'm talking waste avoidance based chip eating, and I'm talking waste avoidance in a generous sense, the forgotten sense.   The type of waste that Italian men working in waste management always exemplify so well. They NEVER waste potato chips, because they don't eat them, they prefer lasaguola with a flake or two of parmesan, or a broskalini with a shake of olive oil, or sometimes even a non-made up snack. 

Yep, this thing I'd spotted was BIG, and I'd spotted it right NOW, and that meant that the ONLY thing that mattered was doing what I had to do with as little fuss as possible. Without laboring over a single point. Without dawdling a tiny bit. With pure focus on what was at a hand, and what was important. And this was too important to even consider procrastinating even a second. To stall for even a moment would be to fail. And I was NOT going to fail today. 

*To be proven 

*By the way if you ever meet a chiropractor that specializes in psychosomatic rooted giraffe neck injuries, always ask to see his fingers, it's the strangest thing, but for some reason they're always covered in broskalini sauce. 

*By the way, if you were thinking of inventing the 'sensing when giraffes sense things that they sense may seem like their necks may soon senselessly break machines', don't bother, I tried for several years and at best I could only get the machine to sense when giraffes sensed something that made them sense things that they sense may seem like their necks may soon get senselessly sprained, and that information is fucking useless. 

Twenty six - Tasty Actioned Magnificat

'You're bad at gathering information about the typical longevity of surprise merriment springing from the ashes of an intense period of bereavement - for your age!' I screamed, flawlessly insulating my foe. 

As I'd predicted I did have a struggle on my hands, but as I established earlier, even though danger always looms, and is easy identified as long as you have a special tooth, it's impossible to predict exactly what TYPE of danger you face.

The struggle this time turned out to be a physical altercation. The worst type of physical altercation. One with a creature whose powers were unpredictable. And undocumented. And unheralded. And unadulterated. And unsandwiched between a sky storm and a slippery curve, and didn't even have a delicious chipotle aioli in this unsandwiching. In this specific case my danger lay with a foe which was a decorative curtain I'd accidentally walked into. 

It seemed to have a dozen limbs wrestling with me, all of which were strangely sewed together, something I had to admire, and consider copying to start a FRESH and NEW trend later in the week. Its skin was coarse and materially, and colored bruise purple (My FAVORITE color). And it was tall, almost as tall as the ceiling. I'd scrappled with many a foe in my life, but this one was unique, clearly I couldn't out-muscle it, or out-skill it, which is why I set myself the task of instead trying to out trash talk it. 

'I bet when you see someone truckin' you say to them 'keep on truckin', knowing FULL well that eventually they'll have to stop trukin' to refuel, you dick!' I screamed at it.

'You're so ugly I bet you've never even TRIED to go to Jupiter!' I bellowed at it. 

'If you were friends with a lampshade I bet you'd consider it your best friend and yet it would only consider YOU its THIRD best friend!' I shrieked at it. 

'You appear to seem like your feeling-based predictions of the longitude of regular overpopulations a of mice founded steamboat races would be so awful that you'd be off by a degree or two!' I howled at it. 

That last one was a low blow. And frankly a slight exaggeration of what I truly believed. Something I'm not completely proud of. But it did do the job. It's feelings were hurt, so much so that it seemed to go limp. And I used my new upper hand to struggle it to the ground, and after only twenty to thirty minutes of hard fought battle I overcame it's mighty grapple.

It was a bitter sweet victory. Sweet because I'd beaten it's pants off, finally answering a question that's plagued man for millennia 'do curtains wear pants?' The answer is that they don't. I'd had to put my own pants on the curtain to wrestle off, and then swear up and down that they were a gift, and therefore owned by him, and that he didn't need to pay me for them, or even reciprocate with a gift for me in the future, although if he insisted I am partial to foods that are traditionally made with a spinach base, only with the spinach taken out and replaced with a new home devoid of ghost monkeys. And bitter because I'd tried biting his face off during the melee and for some reason it wore what seemed like ten years of restaurant waft as a moisturizer which tasted real bitter. So weird. 

But mostly my victory felt triumphant. It roused me. It inspired me. It made me feel like an all powerful King. Doubt oozed out of my body almost as fast as the blood dripped out of the gaping stomach wound I'd picked up during the brawl. And that was a lot of blood. Which meant that was a lot of doubt leaving me. And without it this doubt I felt dazzled, formidable and confident for perhaps the first time in my life, I was so lacking in doubt that I was getting giddy and light headed. 

When you're overwhelmed with belief, credence and conviction you have to strike and use it NOW, and luckily I had something BIG to use it on. And with confidence practically spraying from my core across the room I was forced to look closer to my body for answers, so I wasn't grossed out, and that's when I spotted it!

*Where 'it' is the thing that I spotted, that shall be revealed* really soon.

*Revealed like the rib of a man who's tasted a BIG victory*.

*The type of victory that this curtain has NEVER experienced. So much so that I think it's ribs had shriveled to almost nothing. Sad really. 

Twenty Five - Large Lycra Needed

The world is full of problems. Luckily I have a solution to almost all of them: 

Need to shave but forgot your razor? Just stick your head in a fire started on a flame retardant blanket, implausible flame NEVER burns the skin because it doesn't want to ruin its reputation.

Want more friends named Jeremy? Simply run an ad in the paper saying 'found wallet belonging to Jeremy with ten thousand dollars cash in it, come to Connell Park on Friday to pick it up' then use the money to buy their friendship.

Want to find it easier to deny the existence of a seemingly frequently found bird? Just cross breed lizards with camels until you've created a Loch Nest Style Monster, unleash it on the city water supply, reveal that knowledge to the local news, which will start mass citywide hysteria, leading to people running all over the place to collect supplies in case this is an alien attack, and all the running will scare the birds off. 

Get offered the choice between a 'bowl of nuts' and a 'nut of bowls' and you just can't choose? Just remember that they are very different, VERY different, clearly the second one is just stupid, I mean you can't have multiple bowls! 

Need to insult someone? Simply say 'for your age' after any statement. Example - 'you are not a linoleum floor- for your age!' Boom, they'll be insulted NOW and BIG. 

Got faulty shocks on your car? Simply re-name them 'big springy things' and you won't even know what shocks are, let-alone know if they're faulty.  

Want to sell more product? Just give people what they want and make it easy, I mean hey supermarkets, seriously, I don't care that you always pre-cart them for some reason, but I really don't want to buy a baby! Dicks.

Got shot in the stomach? Just rub mayonnaise onto the wound to let the doctors know you probably deserved to be shot. 

Want an interesting, admirable in effort and yet ultimately failing way to prove that you rarely sail? Just eat an enormous garbage bag full of dried leaves. Frequent sailers only do that on special occasions at best.  

Want to prove that your fear of horns is in direct contrast to your time-machine building skills? Just publicly head-butt a tyrannosaurus.

Need more money due to some recent awesome schemes? Just collect the paper work needed to legally change your name and then keep an eye on the paper,  I've heard people sometimes find wallets full of cash and will just give it the the person with the right name! 

Yep, solutions to problems are easy. And I had a BIG problem here, and it was affecting me NOW! 

But as usual a clear answer came to me, and I came up with an ingenious, smart and flawless solution  - I was going to make the manager of this restaurant SEEM like he was great at his job, so good that I could get him fired, where his level of goodness was GREAT. It was ingenious, and flawless and even smart! 

There was only one problem - I didn't know HOW to make him seem great at his job. And even though I have answers to almost every dilemma imaginable, even I was going to struggle with this one, and this struggle was NOW, and it was BIG! 

*To be wrestled with further*

*As in wrestled with more*, rather than wrestled with far* away

*Speaking of more, own an arena and you need more events to put on? Just have tyrannosauruses wrestle lizard-camels, all the failed babies of attempts to create a Loch Nest Style Monster are currently not being used for ANYTHING!

Twenty Four - Opportunity Poking

I was ready to sacrifice my own selfish needs of demanding to look like the good guy, and look out for the greater good instead, which required having the manager fired, so I began looking for him, and I looked for him great, in a good sense, which is where the level of good is greatness.

There was just one little problem. As I walked around the restaurant I suddenly realized something that was potentially an obstacle - I didn't know HOW to have him fired. 

This baffled me for a moment or two, and I found myself muttering to myself (for the record, trust me, 'yourself' is the BEST person to mutter to. When you mutter to others you hardly EVER get what you want. Like once I tried muttering 'your hat is cool, can I try it on?' to this cool looking individual wearing a cool looking hat, and he replied 'sorry dude, I can't take it off, it's not a hat, it's a mane'. Fucking horses, such dicks, if your going to get pissed at me for muttering, then how about improving your own speaking quality, I could barely understand a word he said, nay, mumbled!). 'Getting fired is easy, you've done it in almost every job you've ever had, so what's different here, other than its not you getting fired?' I muttered to myself. And I decided to think back to the last time I was personally fired from a job. 

I had been hired as ‘Head Of Great Ideas and Motivation’ for my local Stolen Identities and Molotov Cocktails Super Store, Simcomart (for the record, NEVER buy a stolen identity disguised in Molotov Cocktail form from one of the small stores, trust me, half the time when you take the identity out, the Molotov Cocktail won't even work, I mean fuck you dicks, why didn't I just go to Sioco: Stolen Identities Only Co?)

And the job was going great, until one day my boss, Dannelle, told me to come into her office, and then absolutely bellowed 'WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?'

'Oh tons' I replied 'in fact consider this list of Great Ideas and Motivations I have instilled in this company so far, things that are FRESH, and NEW:

- I instilled Greatness As A Goal To Aspire Towards at the company.
- I instilled Snake Nest Toilet Rolls On Fire Next To Jars Of Worms at this company.
- I instilled Do Something Wrong That Kind Of Rhymes (But Not Really At All, So Much So Some People May Not Have Even Noticed You Even Tried) With Your First Triumph Tuesdays.
- I instilled Wear Nothing Except Coat Hangers, Come On, THEY’RE Fashion HEROES, But They Never Get To Enjoy Any Of The Glory Mondays.
- I instilled If You Poke Out Someone's Eye, You Should Put It In The Scanner And Send A Picture Of It To Everyone In The Company Worldwide, The Most Hilarious Caption Gets An Extra Day Off Thursday Afternoons.
- Which of course was my solution to complaints over some of the lob-sided scores during my recently instilled Chug LOTS of Mimosa Then Play Darts On Dart Boards Situated Really Close Together Thursday Brunches.
- And I even instilled Use The Word “Instilled” As Often As You Can Everyday; it's doing absolute wonders down in acquisitions and actuaries. Oh by the way, I also combined the acquisitions and actuary departments, it turns out that despite their names, those are actually very different skill sets, it’s like a slapstick movie DOWN THERE!’. 

I was nearly bellowing myself by the end, and I could see why SHE was screaming at ME! And as I thought back to this day NOW, I realized something BIG - no wonder I couldn’t think of how to get the manager fired, he was clearly awful at his job, and I was clearly only ever fired from jobs I was clearly AMAZING at! 

‘You’re fired!’ Dannelle screamed at me that day. I hadn’t realized just HOW great I was at this job even myself. I was clearly TOO good at the job. I'd only worked there two hours, and I'd overhauled that company, I mean consider how many ideas and motivations I could have developed had I lasted a week! And I'd even had had to spend half of that two hours filing an official complaint against a co-worker for yelling 'my eye, my eye, the new guy hit me in the eye with a dart!' I mean what I dick, some people just don't care about other people, yelling in the work place is distracting! I suspect he was just jealous because I beat him at darts!

Oh plus, because of me, the receptionist had met a cute paramedic. Sure they couldn't chat, because as the paramedic said himself 'I've never seen such horror' while he ran to the ambulance carrying three eyeballs with darts stuck in them, but it's good to meet someone nice regardless. I remember thinking at the time:

‘EYE love meeting new people' and 

‘EYE come here often, do you?' And 

'Has an angel fallen from heaven? If so while he's on the ground can you have him look for an EYE, I heard someone's missing one'.  

Even though I was fired I was sure that I’d still be included in the best caption contest. Wow, I had a chance to get and extra day off work! That was too good an opportunity to miss. 

As I thought back to this time NOW it was clear what I had to do. Clear as a window that was so dirty it's been removed completely and sent to a professional window cleaners, who themselves weren't that good, yet while they worked on the issue the window was windowless which is the clearest type of window ever, unless there is lots of pollution, which is always, yep I'm talking REALLY clear. And this was BIG, and required my attention NOW!

*What that is is still to taken off its hanging spot, so to speak*

*Kind of like clothes taken off your coat hanger, which just held it for you for possibly months with ZERO thanks, just try wearing a coat hanger occasionally, they deserve the opportunity!*

*Speaking for opportunity, for the record if you even get the opportunity to play Chug Lots Of Bloody Mary's and then Play Darts on Dart Bords Located Adjacent To Your Key Arteries on a Thursday Breakfast, trust me, say 'YES'. Most people amazingly quit after only two or three darts, so victory is EASY!

Can YOU follow instructions?

Here now are ten signs that you've grossly misinterpreted your extremely simple and very specific instructions: 

1. You've had a scientist use lasers to miniaturize you and now you're riding a manatee that has been giantized and turned into a Minotaur which dreams of becoming a matador, and you were told to only use 'plausible science'. 

2. I mean seriously, 'a matador?' As if the cow of the sea would dream of being cruel to bulls. That's soooo implausible. 

3. Well, ok, maybe if one had told her it was willing to move into the sea with her, but then when it got there was all like 'this is getting too serious too fast, you're suffocating me!' Then I guess it would be a TAD plausible. 

4. But then again, I mean you KNEW what you were getting into bull, seriously, it's not her fault you make promises you can't damn keep.

5. Plus why take the Minotaur step in the middle? You can be a matador without being a Minotaur. I've seen the bullfights, nearly HALF of the Matadors were not Minotaurs! Also why be giantized if you want to be a matador then do it, you can't let your dreams rely on you becoming someone or something else completely first, geez, no wonder miniaturized people are riding you, seriously man, have some balls. 

6. Oh wait, unless you've been castrated, that's sad, and you don't get to choose that as a baby calf, someone just does it. And then some people eat those things in some places! 

7. Disgusting people! 

8. Unless that's normal to them, who the fuck are you to judge how people eat in whole different places, being a judgmental dick may well be plausible, but that doesn't make it something you should allow into your heart no matter WHAT instructions you've been given. 

9. Plus maybe just don't 'ride' other creatures, we're all equal, don't you know about equality you dick, how fucking dare you think you have the right to dominate ANY creature, I don't care how much you've been miniaturized. 

10. And in this case your specific instructions were simply - 'use the art of litter gathering to redefine the unspoken language of love in a way that speaks to clouds, using plausible science ONLY' 

So there you go. How'd you go? Were YOU able to follow simple very specific instructions, or did you fuck it up just like everyone else? And if so can you recommend someone who isn't unable to follow simple instructions to me please. I really need someone to do this job for me, I have a friend who is a cloud that's sick of looking at litter and not being romantically warmed by it, oh and can you recommend a good miniaturizer to me? I met this cute manatee and I promised her I'd move into the sea with her, but her only possession is an old sunken shoe and as if I'm going to sleep outdoors, I'd get cold, be realistic please people. 

Twenty Three - See Through Shake

It was clear as day what I had to do, bright clear like the bright sun, clear as a cloud that's a cloudy cloud, and more specifically like a cloudy cloud which was so not cloudy that it was clear, as obvious as what's on the other side of a door, and when the door is made of air, and the air was made in a vacuum, and the vacuum hadn't sucked up whatever it was that was on the other side of the door, but HAD sucked up anything that was between the other side of the door and the thing on the other side of the door. Clearly I had to listen to my lesson - never ever EVER delay anything! 

I needed to know what dilly dally meant NOW, or I was in BIG danger of doing it, where 'it' meant 'dilly dally', and there was only one clear thing to do, clear as what's left behind after a nuclear bomb has been dropped on a town, and thousands of years have passed to let the radiation radiate away, and then the future people, most likely people who are part human, part robot, part mole, part alien and mostly balloons filled with lightning bugs, have gone 'you know what, let's just clear this whole area', and then despite not having any hands or even arms they have somehow managed to get ancient bulldozing technology to work and have miraculously pulled off this clearing, only to NOW be frustrated, as they have no idea what to do with this cleared area, and yet they, being beings without fingernails nor heads, can't even have the joyful physical satisfaction of scratching their noggins while they figure it out, yep I'm talking clear! 'Really clear' would he another way to put it. That's right - I had to have the manager of this restaurant fired, and hope that his replacement would swiftly add a dictionary to the restaurant library, and hopefully also use his managerial powers to have the man from the photos stop yelling at me so I could look in the dictionary in peace.

Now, having someone else fired isn't as fun as you'd think. They lose their jobs, their families possibly break up under the strain, they often cry, sometimes they make big heartbreakingly desperate yet ultimately fruitless speeches begging for another chance, and you have to watch them pour out with a yearning passion, a despairing need and a desperately impassioned hope for a reprieve born from their desperation and their passion, only to see their faces go white, and their hearts implode, as they are told that their efforts were frucked! Yeah sure, but yes, as strange as it seems, there can also be a DOWN side to having someone fired. 

For example it can sometimes appear to others that YOU are the bad guy. This is a HUGE sacrifice for someone like me, because I HATE seeming like the bad guy. Hate it like morning dew on my raincoat, 'hey it's a RAINcoat, not a DEWcoat you condensationed dick! Go to a restaurant library and read a friggin' dictionary!' I'm forced to scream. 

That's why I'm careful to be nice all the time. Like when I used to whip Kev, I always used a whip braided into the head of a girl I knew he found both pretty of face and of personality, and I made him walk in front of us, which gave heavily subtle phycological guidance that he was our 'pride' or 'flock' leader, even though he wasn't, and to make sure she didn't figure out the phycological games I was using to toy with her emotions, I'd tell her that Kev didn't date girls that had met a wizard. That's how nice I am. 

Being nice is just built into my soul, I tell myself that all the time, so I know it's true, and having this man fired was just an extension of that, I just had to be willing to sacrifice 'looking' like the bad guy, even though I was clearly the good guy here. 

The only thing that wasn't clear was whether I'd be ABLE to make this sacrifice. Ableness is not my forte. My forte is wrestling fructose deficient Freemasons, frequenting firestorm founders fondle fountains, and starting trends, and you only get one forte, so ableidity could never be it. And this could be BIG. This little nugget of murkiness was as misty as a fog descended into the darkened windows of a nugget factory, but I had to wipe the window with a cloth NOW, and it had to be a BIG cloth, because it often stinks in nugget factories, so they need BIG windows to open to let the stink soar! 

Would I ponder making this sacrifice? You're damn right I would!  

*The results of such pondering to be revealed*

*Revealed like what was on the other side of that door*

*Which was a wizards* hat.

*The wizard himself was vacuumed up, they really need to work on their anti-being-vacuumed spells, we get it, you've got the going 'poof' and  disappearing into a cloud of smoke thing nailed, but we then always need to get out vacuums to clean up the dusty residue that this leaves behind and I for one am sick of having to shake you wizards out of my vacuum bag, dicks! 

Twenty Two - Melting Stuck

It was a warm and moist evening the day that I learned an important lesson that has stuck with me ever since; stuck to me like a reminder note stapled to your chest saying 'don't forget to buy bandaids, for some bafflingly unknown reason you need them often, oh and don't forget to get a new box of staples too, maybe two, oh and remember to start writing your reminder notes in a smaller font, this 26 type really makes these notes large, and it's a total waste of staples'. Yep I'm talking stuck to me like a daily routine.

The hit new movie 'Gargoyles; And We're Not Talking The Concrete Ones On Buildings, We're Talking Live Ones, Ones That Don't Want YOU Alive' had just come out, and people were saying that it was the best overly long named movie of the whole summer. I remember personally even thinking 'those Gargoyles are BIG, and they are popular NOW!' One reviewer went as far as saying that the weird gibberish that the gargoyles spoke as they ate people's spleens was 'infectious'. 

He was right too of course. Gargoyle fever had spread around the culture like a virus that had attached itself to an airborne sickness of some sort that was spread around by some sort of bug, probably mosquitos, or possibly flies that had bred with mosquitos and had babies that were called flies but genetically speaking were mostly mosquito, that spread around a virus that had a symptom of a fever, a fever for Gargoyles. 

This was something I knew a thing or two about. I've started many trends that have turned it to be infectious. My recent 'jam a meat cleaver in your forehead like a unicorn horn' was so infectious, that the infection was sometimes dripping down my face.

But during this Gargoyle infection I was in a sticky situation, as due to my epically strong immune system, and because I found the CGI to be slightly substandard, and mostly because I don't follow trends, I START them, I just could not catch Gargoyle fever. It was awful, I hate when everyone has a sickness I can't catch. But I didn't need to wait long for a solution.

Little did everyone know that the 'Pet Gargoyles' I'd been making and selling as a way to capitalize on the trend, were glued together with a concoction made from my earwax, and puss from a bafflingly unwarranted weird wound I had on my head, that wouldn't stop leaking. The concoction turned out to be full of a virus, and the virus was infectious, and the virus acted in a way completely unpredictable, by acting unpredictably predictable, and it spread throughout the land. Soon the infection was all anybody talked about, which was funny because no one could hear due to an, I'm sure unrelated, outbreak of severe ear infections, that had almost everyone oozing with earwax.

I'm sure you all remember the great Waxing of 99'. It was awesome. EVERYONE was waxy, so no CARED about being waxy. 

We went sledding down slippery mountains of wax, we wax-boarded down mountains of sand, and we sand-sled up mountains made of board and wax, we shot eery horror movies in the fog down by the wax marshes, witches cast spells in bubbling cauldrons of wax, spells that made it possible for us to watch TV on our wax boxes, and watch great shows like '101 uses for your wax', 'Game Of Waxes', 'I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of this Wax, and 'How I Waxed Your Mother', we practiced our gymnastic jumps and flips with the safety of knowing we'd land softly and safely in pits of wax, we lay on our backs in parks and philosophized while trying to spot shapes in the floating by wax clouds, and we waxed lyrical after poetry readings while sipping on warm mugs of caffeinated Wax Sludge at hole-in-the-wall Waxfés, 

I even heard a couple once had a romantic dinner by the beautiful flickering light of a wax candle, and then made love in a room filled with beautiful burning wax aromatherapy pots, which would be beautiful if it wasn't so gross, eeeew romance. 

Everyone was having fun, except for me of course, I got epically distracted watching Seinwax, and suddenly I turned around and realized seven months had passed and the Gargoyle Fever had gone, and I still had three Pet Gargoyles in stock, meaning I'd probably have to sell them at a fifty percent off my regular retail price of four times production costs, which were zero. God damn it. This was going to cost me tonnes! Which made me think of the term 'a shit ton' which I hate, because no on can tell me if that's a metric or an imperial tonne? Meaning anytime I wanted to get out of something annoying, like helping Kev carry his sofa over to against the wall to see if his missing hamster was hiding under there, I'd have to compile two piles of shit, one a tonne and one the other size of a ton, to justify saying 'can't mate, got a shit ton of work'. 

Yep, it was horrible. But sometimes something horrible can lead to something good. Like one time was walking into a Gothic Cathedral and a Gargoyle fell off and landed on me, hurting me emotionally and rupturing my spleen, but I got something valuable from it, an idea for a completely original movie, it's about spleen eating Gargoyles! It's FRESH and it's NEW. I totally plan on writing it one day and selling it for millions! And this particular evening's horror was no exception, I learned a valuable lesson - when you have something to do, never ever EVER delay, not even for one second! 

As I circled the man from the photos in the restaurant library NOW I thought about this lesson. This was a lesson I would put to good use NOW, and the outcomes of it would be BIG. 

There's more to come*

*In the meantime I recommend re-watching some old episodes of Seinwax, remember the one where Jerrwax dumped a girl because, ha ha, because, ha ha, she drank her Caffeinated Wax Sludge at Monk's Waxfé with a straw*!!! It was HILARIOUS. 

*And yet drank her Caffeinated Wax Shakes WITHOUT a straw!  

Twenty One - A Shape Of Feeling

I was circling the man from the pictures now to intimidate him, circling him in the most perfect circle I could make, which is of course the squarest circle I could conjure, as obviously squares are better than circles, especially when it comes to circling someone. 

This was hard, because the only ruler I had was only twelve inches long, so I had to stop and re-set it every micro-step, to make sure each side of my circle was perfectly straight, which was time consuming and made my circling him slightly less intimidating than I intended. Plus I'd also accidentally gone clockwise which is only the third most intimidating direction to circle someone at BEST (after anti-clockwise and standing still while calmly asking the other person to pirouette on the spot), as if I didn't already have enough to worry about right NOW.

'Why don't you just follow the walls?' He said, after fifteen minutes or so of me circling him, 'they're straight and are only about seven inches from where you're walking, so you don't even need the ruler'.

I measured this distance. He was right. It was about three inches, which is EXACTLY just about seven inches. This spelled trouble, and trouble NOW, and it possibly even spelled BIG trouble, and I hate spelling, that dick. 

Obviously he must have been a wizard of some sort. Which was okay. I'd tangled with their sort before. Mostly at 'making whips from hair' workshops, which are often both fun and educational in a rewarding sense, and you get to take home the whips, as long as the person who's hair you've braided is easy to carry. 

My experience with wizards had always been great at these events, they're interesting and helpful, and one even taught me how to extract the essence of gnat WITHOUT needing to spend six months living in a gnat nest to earn their trust, it turned out with the secret power of not stealing their gnat food (which is mostly the essence of fleas) from right in front of their faces and right off their dinner plates, trust could be earned in merely four months! This was endlessly invaluable information. Then again, he did not tell me how I was supposed to get essence of flea without stealing it, which made the previous invaluable bit of information endlessly valueless. 

So I knew I had to be careful. But I also had to be swift. The restaurant library had no dictionary and this was a restaurant failure that was affecting me NOW and in a BIG way. 

My emotions started to get the best of me. And I've always found the best part of me is my ability to avoid feeling, and now with my emotions taking that part of me, I was left exposed, which always brings out my feelings. ALL of them. Over the next twelve minutes I felt more emotions than I'd ever felt before. Consider this list of emotions that I felt during this time:

- Love.

- Hate.

- Love-hate.

- Hate-love.

- The emotion in-between love and hate. 

- Let down.

- Hurt (Mostly on the souls of my feet where I'd landed when let down). 

- Uncomfortable (Mostly because the hair whip I'd hooked around a chandelier and climbed to get up high enough to get let down had gotten tangled in my hair, which I'd previously glued to my shirt while starting a new trend). 

- The fresh breeze from the open window blowing on my face.

- A hive of angry gnats gnawing at my knobby knee knobs (which I hide in my left ear so no one steals them) in what felt like a bizarrely, and obviously unwarranted, revengeful gnawing. 

- The emotion in-between hate and love. 

- The first man from the photograph's buttocks. 

- The spit from his yelling mouth splattering on my face. And 

- The emotion in-between the emotion in between hate and love and the emotion in-between love and hate.

For some people some of those things aren't even emotions. But a while ago I decided to develop the special skill of turning things that aren't emotions into emotions, and I know it works because whenever I get hit in the head with a flying table (not an emotion) thrown at me by someone I thought cared about me unequivocally, I feel hurt (which IS an emotion). 

I also felt the emotion of the absence of the dictionary I needed. And this was critical. I needed to respond. And I needed to respond NOW, and in a BIG way. Luckily I figured out a simple and easy to execute solution, and it was a solution that would help me NOW, but it would super hard to achieve, and would require a BIG sacrifice. Something I was willing to make, or was I?*

*The answer to this question shall be exposed very soon*

*Soon being the amount of time it takes to expose it*

*It being both 'it' and the other* 'it'

*'It' an emotion that I personally was the first EVER to feel*! 

*I also once remarkably felt 'hurt' when I was dumped into an empty grave filled with poisonous jellyfish by a lady who said she loved me but really only wanted to steal my car, yep I can turn anything into an emotion, it truly is a special special skill. 

Twenty - Safely Motivated

I find the library sections in most restaurants, either Mexican restaurants that were formally fish tank themed restaurants, or the other kind (Italian I think), to be frequently underwhelming. 

They rarely have a good selection of books, often filling valuable shelf space with books with unenticing titles such as 'Restaurant Management Guidelines', 'Company Sexual Harassment Policy' and 'How To Run A Successful Restaurant', all of which often end up being thrilling reads, but they just don't hook me in with the titles.  

And some of the bookshelves themselves look more like filing cabinets than traditional bookshelves, and you look through them and instead of books there are files! Who wants to read those? 

The reading desk is usually covered in folders with things like 'payroll' and 'Produce Orders' written on them. 

Frequently some dick will have left piles of his unopened mail lying around, and next to a letter opener, which is like a knife, and so you're forced to write a list of people you'd imagine would have fun screams if they were stabbed, but then all the note paper you can find has the restaurants name printed on it. It's MY stab list, not the restaurants, those dicks. 

And there are often photos sitting on the desk of some weird guy with what look like his kids. 

The library computer is regularly password protected, and it doesn't matter how many of the files you pull out and scatter all over the floor, none of them seem to have the password written on it. So you try guessing the password, trying every dirty word you can think of, and there are LOTS, especially if you, like me, like to coin a new one every couple of days. Consider these ones I've coined in just the past week:

- Blug

- Jurp

- Muskartflupt

Disgusting right? And it's not pleasant having to type all these into the password spot. Then suddenly the computer tells you that you have guessed too many times, and the computer is now blocked for seven days.

And the door to the library for some reason doesn't say 'library', it's as if they don't WANT to encourage people to read? What dicks. Reading is great. Instead they'll try and scare you off by putting 'Managers Office' on the door. 

And sometimes when you're trying to read one of the books, the guy that's IN the photos will come in and yell at you. Like YOU'RE the one just leaving pictures of yourself in random places. And you try to say 'shhhh' this is a library, keep your voice down. But he never listens, that dick. 

And often he has a little tag on his chest saying 'manager'. What a weird thing to boast about. Who wants to just be 'managing'. That's what you do when you're recovering from a bad break up, 'I heard about Karen, how are you doing?' Someone will ask you. 'Oh, it's hard, but I'm managing' you'll reply. And what you mean is that you've just spent nine straight hours cutting Karen's eyes out of all your pictures and sticking them on a your sleeping friend Kev's face so that when he wakes up you can say with a laugh 'EYE, see you have a rash there, ha ha'. So being a 'manager' is something you should keep quiet about really. That's why I always wear a tag saying 'thriver'. 

Now as an avid reader I've checked out the library section in almost all the restaurants I've ever eaten in, and disappointment is something I've learned to just cope with. Besides I've discovered it to be a touchy subject with a lot of restaurants, some have even kicked me out for complaining. Seriously! 

Well this restaurant that I'm in NOW is a BIG restaurant, so I was sure that their library would be good, and good in a great way, with the greatness being in regard to how good it was. And it turned out this this library WAS great, except it was great in the sense of greatly resembling all other restaurant libraries that have disappointed me. It had ALL of the problems I've listed above. But it even had more than that. It also had the following horrors:

- None of the filing cabinets had six month old burritos in them for me to eat, and I was hungry. 

- On the wall was a motivational poster about how if you're on top of a mountain you probably only got there because you worked hard, and I thought 'well I'm a hard worker, I must be on a mountain' so I did all the things you do on top of a mountain, I peed off it, I stuck a flag in it and declared it mine, and I wrote a book about how hard it was to climb, and get this, some of the pee somehow splashed back from the valley below all the way back to my feet, my flag fell over, and my literary agent said 'we can't publish this because actually, based on your story, I think you may not have actually climbed a mountain, and may have been in the mangers office at a restaurant somewhere'. Yeah right. 

- The guy in the photos seemed to not just have kids, but also some form of parental figure of his own. Yeah right, those leave when you're six you dick, I hate lies in photo form. 

- One of the books was about 'The Economics of Restaurants'. I've already read that in seven different restaurant libraries, seriously guys, variety please. 

- After re-reading the chapter on how most restaurants don't need their own helicopter fleet I remembered one of the reasons that I had failed as a restauranteur myself (another reason was that I found out people don't want ghost monkey soup), and thinking of helicopters reminded me that those are another way to get to the top of a mountain, and riding those isn't hard work, making me think all my time climbing this mountain had been wasteful, AND that the poster was lying to me. 

- After bitterly pulling down the poster, ripping it to tiny pieces, eating those pieces, digesting those pieces, then pooing them out and wiping them on the wall, I discovered a safe where the poster had been. But I couldn't break into it because some dick had wiped faeces on it. 

- Having found a safe I was reminded that sometimes it's NOT the cloak room of a restaurant that hides the secret VIP room and other fun stuff, sometimes it's the library! So maybe I didn't need to feel bad that I didn't find fun stuff in the cloakroom after all. 

- But after digging up the carpet, and smashing holes in the wooden floor below with my bare hands, and finding nothing but some sort of car garage, I did now feel like I had to feel a certain way about not finding anything fun in the library, and that feeling was a bad feeling, because the feeling was bad. 

- Plus I got a splinter in my thumb somehow! What sort of restaurant keeps splinters lying around? 

Normally finding a library this bad in all the regularly bad ways and even other bad ways would make me complain to the management about how bad it was, and complain BIG, and right NOW. 

But I couldn't today, for today I was in danger, and this was BIG danger, and I was in it NOW! And I really needed a dictionary so I could look up what 'dilly dally' meant, so I could make sure I didn't do it in dealing with this danger. But on top of the other ways that this library was terrible, they also didn't have a dictionary! 

Yet of course they DID have a man from the photos yelling at me. But I wasn't going to just 'manage' with this today. This was too important. I had to thrive. I was going to have to force them to update their library, by adding a dictionary, and to do that I was going to have to do something BIG, and I had to do it NOW, but how would I do it? 

*The answer is on its way*

*Speaking of ways, the best way to get a splinter out of your finger flesh is to play a game of 'throw your finger at a pair of tweezers that have recently been eaten by a kid' the kid will eat your finger, the tweezers will eat your splinter, and your nub will scare the kid, it's the circle* of life. 

*A type of shape, kind of squarey, but in a more 'not very squarey' way.