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All responses Most smiled responses
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asked by MikewheatI'm sure a fair few people expect me to answer this question in as salacious a manner as possible, probably with references to the dark only being good for one thing and pregnancy spikes after power outages and et-cetera. But no. When the power is out, you're jumpy and every gust of wind is mysterious and you spend the whole time full of anticipation of it ending. Not a very good atmosphere for sexytimes or the like.
I typically feel, while the power is out, rather bored and (as mentioned) anticipatory of the power's return. Like many modern humans (in the first world (with moderately affluent lifestyles (and nothing better to do))), most of my leisure time is spent in the company of the comforting glow of electricity. Even my habit of writing is largely dependent on my computer, as my actual handwriting skills have so atrophied since gradeschool that I can barely read my own chicken scratchings anymore (not that they were ever particularly pretty to begin with). Power outages are lame.
The last time the power went out, it was a pretty big one over the whole neighborhood. I was living alone at the time, so I couldn't simply bust out the board games or pal around with my friends and family. I decided to take a walk around the block, or maybe around the whole neighborhood if things were still dark. A few minutes into my meander, I realized my neighbor Susie Jansen had settled on a similar course of action, and was taking a walk herself only a few sidewalk squares behind me. Now, Susie wasn't exactly my favorite neighbor, but I was pretty sure she had noticed me noticing her and I didn't want to seem rude. I slowed down and let her catch up, and we set off on our walk together.
For a bit it was quiet, the two of us just taking in the scenery in the cool autumn air, appreciating the encroaching sunset. But, as was her wont, Susie simply couldn't keep her mouth shut. "Bernie," she said (she never could remember my name), "Bernie, what do you think a sarsaparilla pie tastes like?"
Or maybe it was sassafras. I have such a hard time remembering Susie's inanity; it tends to leak out my ears even on those rare occasions I have cause to recall something she babbled out.
Either way, I looked around nervously; it wasn't really very dark yet, though, so I figured it was safe enough to answer as long as I kept my voice down.
"I dunno. Doesn't really sound like something I'd ever put in a pie."
She rolled her eyes. "Well yeeeeeah," she said, nasal whine bouncing between houses and across the empty streets. "That's why it's a hypertensive question."
"Hypothetical."
"I know, sheesh. How dumb do you think I am?"
I bit my tongue here. I'm not a short man, and Susie had a good eight inches on me.
"Now what do you think it would taste like?"
This line of hypertensive questioning clearly wasn't going to go anywhere if I ignored it, so I played along. "Probably pretty dry, I suppose. Dry and bitter. Might be sweet with, I dunno, cinnamon and nutmeg?"
"That's a stupid answer."
I wasn't sure what kind of answer would have been considered less stupid, but she seemed mollified for the moment. We came to an intersection and waited for a blue sedan to pass; as it drove away, I realized: I'd been so occupied with Susie's scintillating pie-theory symposium that I'd lost track of where in the neighborhood we were.
"Susie," I quavered (I don't like to brag, but I was tri-county champion quaverer at the time, and I liked to show off the skill at every opportunity; the follies of youth, as they say). "Susie, do you know how to get back to our houses from... Mullamar Drive?"
"Of course I do."
It was clear she didn't.
"And wasn't that a movie anyway?"
"Mulholland Drive was a movie."
"Shut up, you're such a nerd.
The sky darkened as we stood on the corner; my eyes flickered to the streetlamps around us, knowing they'd be on by now if the power weren't still out. I waited for Susie to point the way in the vain hope that for once she wasn't all bluster and actually did know how to get home, but no pointing manifested itself.
After a time, I muttered "I guess the first step would be to go back along this street."
With a hearty "God, I know" for my troubles, we set about retracing our steps. A few hopeful guesses at intersections later and the neighborhood was starting to look familiar. "There's Mrs. Newworth's azalea" I'd think, or "I'm pretty sure that's the van we all pretend we don't know ran over Billy Chang's bicycle that one time" as we passed the landmarks in question. Once things were really becoming definite, though, the sun finally disappeared behind the hills, and real darkness set in.
We were half an hour too late on the streets, and we both knew it. For a full minute, we just stood there, afraid to make a noise, not a hundred percent sure where we were, and getting colder by the minute. Eventually, cold and logic outweighed fear, and we started moving forward again.
Minutes passed without incident, and every turn brought more welcoming landmarks. Perhaps bolstered by our success, or perhaps simply as thickheaded as I still believe she was, Susie decided to quip "What about starfruit? You know, in a pie?"
Eyes widening, I hissed at her to be silent, but it was too late. A growl rose from a nearby bush, then another, and another. Every shrub and hedge and the underside of every car in the area was suddenly rustling and rumbling and filling with eyes. A growl rose to a yowl, and suddenly the air was full of hissing and spitting, and they LUNGED.
I didn't even bother looking at or waiting for Susie. I just ran, arms and legs pumping, breath forming terrified clouds in the air, and feet scattering the little furry monstrosities as best they could. Bells tinkled on impact; piteous yelps and mewls reached my ears; every fiber of my being screamed "This is wrong!", but the fangs and claws sinking into my legs helped drown out the objections.
I tore across the pavement, leaving Susie to whatever fate she carved out for herself. It was her fault anyway. The hundreds of glassy eyes staring at me and thousands of dark shapes flitting towards me wouldn't even have known I was there if she'd kept her mouth shut. They would probably have descended on some poor toddler who remembered he left Mr. Bear in the backyard or drunken partygoer who thought he was man enough to make it home, but not me.
Fortunately, it was hardly any distance between where we'd been and my warm, safe house, and I barely touched ground the whole way. My pants were in tatters and my socks soaked with blood by the time I made it home, but I banged my way in and shook off the last few balls of fur and fury. I leaned against the door, panting and oozing, but I was safe.
It was while I was still catching my breath in the foyer that the lights flickered back on. I'd probably have cast a sour glance at the bulb and muttered something sardonic, but I knew light would just have made us easier to find. To this day, I don't know what it was about that subdivision that made the cats that way, but it was nightmarish to live in. Susie didn't talk to me for a week after that night.
And what a week it was. -
Nothing! I'm actually doing some unprocrastinating by checking my formpsring inbox like I've been meaning to for a couple days.
It was pretty empty. Oh well, I guess. -
Formspring spam makes me sad in the face.
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I can't answer this question! What KIND of zombie is it? How big/deteriorated is it? Did I go into the kitchen to get lunch or did I go there to get water at midnight and am consequently neither fully-awake nor dressed?
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asked by PickYerPoison
I've never really given much thought to my favorite post. Heck, I'd have a hard time picking my favorite character, and I've only got ten of those instead of 148.
I guess my favorite group of posts would probably be the recent ones in GB2, though. I think they're pretty well-done, they were a lot of fun to write, and they're setting some Cool Important Stuff into motion. -
F... fine?
I can't answer this, your avatar is really putting me off my pudding. -
asked by Achirality
Never. The ability to alter the universe would be too tempting to abuse just to see what happens.
Well actually I guess less "never" and more "at the point at which it becomes extremely obvious things are way worse than they started as" or "when the air becomes water and I drown or something". -
Now don't be ridiculous. Why would I try to keep you safe from germs if I was a germ? It just doesn't make sense!
All those othe-, er, all those germs can't have you and that's that. -
asked by Girtha
Look, sweetheart, I appreciate that you're being more creative than the usual "Oh, let me out, this is so cruel, free me waaaaah" route, but even clever rhymes and what I assume are lyrics quotes won't get you out of that jar. You are going to stay there until... Untillll...
What did I do this for again? -
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What is this? Who are you? WHAT HAVE YOU MADE SHREK DOOOOO
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Easy. BEES. I mean, I've already got the bees, now I just need to develop isoamyl acetate smokebombs. And, uh, a portable hive I guess.
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My group of friends and I actually have a pretty solid plan for this eventuality; the short version is "shotgun and maul+heavy duty 4wd pickup+specific group of friends holed up in a well-stocked house in the country"
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For what consumable would you commit fairly heinous crimes to have a comfortable lifetime supply of?
asked by SchazerProbably "garlic-stuffed olives". Those suckers are delicious like you wouldn't BELIEVE, but a jar of like thirty costs about nine bucks. Total ripoff.
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Oh man I had a really good one just the other day
It was
uhh
I forget but it involved the inclusion of the word "newt" in a word that had nothing to do with newts ordinarily
It was quite humorous -
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asked by MohTzu
Sorry, I don't do requests. Only commissions.
Metalbourne calls them bribes, but he's old-school. -
asked by MohTzu
I think a friend of mine had it and we'd play occasionally, but I didn't ever play it much and definitely didn't beat it, codes or not.
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Sleeping Orange
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