Drip Drop

The past two days at work have each provided their own special challenges. Yesterday, I was supposed to work on the patio, but due to the fact that it was cold and cloudy, we decided not to open the patio. Instead, I ended working as the host, which is the person who greets and seats the customers. I have never done that before, or had any sort of training for the job. Fortunately, it was an absurdly easy job, so it was no problem. And then I went home and had a nap for a couple hours, and then felt drowsy for the rest of the day, until about midnight, where I was awake as I could be. That was bad, because it meant I couldn't sleep, so now I am really tired. Today at work, I ended up working on the patio because it was a very nice day out all morning. And then, about 2:00, it suddenly got cloudy and started to be a bit chilly. So I started taking down the patio (taking the salt, pepper, sugar, and tableclothes inside, and wiping down the tables and chairs), and while I was doing that, it started to rain. Fortunately, it didn't rain very hard. And then I didn't go home and nap. Hopefully I'll sleep tonight. And hopefully I won't get rained on tomorrow.

Thunderfunk the Superchicken - Pt 4

4. When nature attacks their assistants

Gently the Lear jet touched down on the tarmac and rolled to a stop. Stairs were rolled up to the door and out stepped Thunderfunk, the Superchicken, resplendent in his three piece suit. Straw Daq followed close behind carrying a couple bags of luggage. After a brief stop at customs, they strode confidently through the terminal to the doors out front. They grabbed a taxi that was waiting out front and gave the driver the name of their hotel. The driver nodded enthusiastically and took off, his tires squealing.
After an hour in the cab, Thunderfunk leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder. “Excuse me sir. Do you actually know where you are going?” Once again, the cabbie bobbed his head, a large grin on his face. Another half hour and finally Thunder had had enough. Leaning forward again, he spoke in a clear, crisp voice. “Listen here. I have had enough of this tomfoolery. Either take us to the hotel, or pay the consequences!” Ten minutes later, Thunder and Straw stood on the street corner, watching the cab drive away. A moment of silence passed between them.
Finally, Straw voiced his opinion. “I told you we should have found a cab driver that spoke English.” He turned and started walking down the street, still holding the bags.
Quickly Thunderfunk caught up to his companion. “I suppose you know where you’re going now do you,” he growled, his voice full of menace. A glance around the area showed a complete lack of English signs, which was not a surprise, given that they were currently in Tokyo, Japan.
“Not really,” came the ready reply, “but it can’t be any worse than where you ended up leading us.” He kept walking, ignoring the furious pecking that was raining down on his head. Once Thunder’s fury was abated, Straw asked a question that had been on his mind for at least the past two minutes. “I thought you said there would be dire consequences if we weren’t taken to the hotel. Usually that means you blow up their car, or ruin their credit rating, or force them to work for Microsoft. Y’know, something evil. Yet you let this guy drive away. Why?”
A quiet chuckle emerged from the giant chicken. “Well, my young protégé, his punishment was simple, but immediate. When we left the cab, I gave him exactly what we owed him, and not a yen more!”
“Oh, that’s cold.”
Three hours later, a dishevelled chicken stumbled into the Marriott hotel (motto: Conveniently less than five minutes from the airport!) and made his way to the check-in counter. “I’m here…” he gasped. “To check….” he moaned. “In…” he nearly collapsed on the counter.
Behind him, Straw strolled casually into the lobby, waving behind him as he came. “Thanks for the drink,” he called out, holding up a Coke. “And for the advice. I will definitely try not to bite any wax tadpoles.”
Thunder looked behind him and scowled before straightening himself up, smoothing his rumpled suit and adopting a properly haughty demeanour. “The name is Thunderfunk the Superchicken, and I have a reservation.” He watched with growing agitation as the desk clerk started typing in his computer and making clucking noises with his tongue.
Finally the man looked up. “I’m sorry sir,” he said in perfect English. “I don’t speak English. Please give me a moment and I will find someone to translate.” He scurried away and a moment later another clerk showed up.
“Yes sir, how can I help such a distinguished guest?” The clerk was smaller than the last guy, but was nearly indistinguishable otherwise. It seemed that the hotel was using clones.
Thunder filed that information away for later exploration and made a second try to get his room. “Yes, I have a reservation. The name is Thunderfunk, the Superchicken.”
Once again the clerk checked his computer before finally looking up with an apologetic face. “I’m sorry sir. We seem to have given your room to someone else.” Noting the fury that was building in the chicken’s eyes, he hurried on. “When you did not arrive for your check in time, we assumed you were not going to make it.”
Leaning forward, Thunder reached over the desk and picked the clerk up by the lapel of his jacket. “Listen to me, and listen closely.” His voice was quiet and threatening. “I reserved a room. I was at the airport five hours ago. I am a very rich person. I want a room, and I want a room now. If I don’t get a room, then I will rain such horrors on your head that even your ancestors will feel the pain. Now go.” Dropping the clerk, he turned and stalked past Straw Daq, growling out instructions: “Make sure that idiot gets us a room.” Moments later he disappeared into the attached bar, probably to drown his angst in sake.
“Nice to see the travel hasn’t dampened his sunny disposition,” muttered the pilot as he made his way to the desk. Sympathetically smiling at the clerk, he waited for the man to gather his wits about him again. “Hi,” he started out, “I’m with the giant angry chicken. He’s just grumpy when he hasn’t eaten.”
The clerk nodded slightly and then went about finding them a room. A couple minutes of searching produced a result. Twenty minutes later, Straw was trying to calm an enraged chicken as they viewed the room they had been given. Large, containing two bedrooms, a Jacuzzi in each room, and a monster living area, it was one of the nicest rooms Straw had ever seen. Something about it seemed to have upset his counterpart, who was in all of his raging glory.
“I can’t believe they would do this to me,” he lamented, stomping around the living room. “Don’t they know who I am? I am a very important guest, and very rich. My business is very important to them and this is how they treat me?” A sweep of the arm indicated the entire room. “Is this all that customer service means to them? Who’s running this place, a monkey?” An incoherent flurry of clucking erupted from the enraged fowl before he stood by the massive television, fuming.
Almost scared to ask, Straw ventured a question. “What exactly is wrong with this room?”
“Don’t you know anything?” snapped Thunderfunk. “These colours are all autumn colours, and I am so obviously a summer!”
Straw rolled his eyes. “Maybe we should concentrate on what we came for, namely stopping Breadbuuter’s plans to take over the world.”
“Right.” Thunderfunk sat down on the couch and pulled out a cookie. “These things are delicious,” he said almost dreamily as Straw set up their mobile work station. Soon he would stop this plan. After that, maybe he could get the recipe.

My favouritest ever!

What you see here is an example of one of the funniest comic strips that I have ever read (and I have read a great many comic strips). The name of this comic is Sheldon, and it follows the adventures of Sheldon, a ten year old boy who over one summer decided to create a software that makes the internet run better, thus making billions and starting up his own software company, Sheldonsoft, that rivals Microsoft, often hostilely.
Using his technological prowess and his boyish imagination, he decided to download an encyclopaedia into a ducks brain. The result is that the duck can now speak and is, basically, like a little child, exploring the world from the perspective of a duck. A talking duck.
Apparently, in all of that programming their was some sarcasm snuck in, because Arthur (the duck's name is Arthur) is one snarky little water fowl. Constantly making wisecracks about those around, and the state of the world run by humans. He used to posses a fully functional nerd radar, but it was overwhelmed during a visit to a computer programming conference.
Sheldon lives with his Grandfather (no word on his parents yet, I'll keep you posted), a man of a different generation, and in fact a different world. His grasp on technology is tenuous. He suspects that the internet is run through magic, and he can't fathom why anyone would make software that freezes up and loses all software. Still, he tries to raise his grandson the best he can, even though he finds it hard to answer questions about corporate takeovers. He and Arthur have a special relationship based mostly on sarcasm and amusing digs at one another. I'm sure that deep down inside they really love each. Gramps also has an unhealthy addiction to Girl Scout Cookies, and is reportedly the only person in the country to be banned from buying any more boxes. His various lose weight attempts often end in disaster ("By pouring a beaker of hydrochloric acid on the steak like so...VOILA! LIQUID STEAK!"), but he continues to try.
Sheldon also has a friend named Dante. Dante is a normal ten year old boy who has aspirations of being an artist. Unfortunately, most of his drawings are less artsy and more...Godzilla filled (Dante: "My still life drawing sort of got away from me" Arthur: "No no...I think Godzilla holding a taco was a natural choice"). Even though his best friend is a multi-billionaire, he doesn't let that affect their relationship. They still run around playing superheroes and swimming in the local swimming hole. Though, when it comes to ice cream, Dante is shameless in his attempts at obtaining free product.
Seriously folks, I love this comic strip. I'd say it makes me laugh out loud at least three times a week, and no matter what mood I'm in, I can't help but chuckle every time I read any day's offering. And I love the art. It's simple, not overdone, but it has a very bold style that I enjoy. I feel like many comic strips don't focus on the art enough. Some are funny regardless (Dilbert, for example), but I like to see well done art along with funny gags. Sheldon has it all.
Another bonus is the author of this strip, Dave Kellet. I have had a few emailed correspondences with him, and he always responds quickly and is very happy to talk to his fans. In fact, when I ordered the collection of his first year's strips, I ordered another book along with it (one that gave the history of Sheldon, showed where Dave got his ideas, etc. Kind of like a bonus section on a DVD). Sadly, the second book did not arrive with the first. When I wrote to his websites store, he answered back personally later that day (two hours later at the most) and not only apologised for the error, but he sent the replacement book by priority mail the next day and he also included a personal drawing as well. Now, I haven't received these items yet, but they are coming from California, and it has only been two days since then. But that, I think, is just awesome.
So all of that to say, I reccommend that you all check it out. This is a strip I would love to see in newspapers some day, but for now it can only be found online at: www.comics.com. Read it every day and brighten your life. It really works, trust me.

The Importance of a Good Breakfast

6. Continuing where it was left off, if not sooner

Little Jimmy was five years old, but very independent. It wasn’t unusual for him to run away from home into the fields beyond the town and hunt prairie gophers. He had yet to catch one, but he was feeling pretty good about his chances. Already he had come across a turtle slowly making its way in the direction of the town. It had looked at him with sad eyes, so he had scooped it up and ran close to home, before remembering that he was mad at his parents and not ever returning, or at least not until he was hungry. Little Jimmy was rather pragmatic when it came to matters of the stomach. So he had put the turtle on the ground, waved good-bye, and ran back to his gopher hunt.
Telltale signs of a burrow hole caught his attention. Ever so slowly he slipped around until he was upwind of the hole. It was something his father had taught him long ago, and as a fierce and mighty hunter, he had learned the lesson well. He crept to the edge of the hole and prepared himself. At any moment a gopher might stick its head up and he had to be ready to grab it. Briefly Jimmy wished that he was old enough to use weapons, but his mother was rather protective and would not allow him to handle anything that was sharp, so knives and bows were out. And he had no string to make a snare because he had left in such a hurry. But a great hunter like himself didn’t need any weapons. He was swift and strong, and catching with his hands was good enough.
What Jimmy could not see was the collection of gophers that had stationed themselves at a hole situated directly behind the young boy. Excitedly they watched. They had each laid down bets as to how long he would stick around this time. Carl was feeling rather smug, as he had won the past three times the kid had come hunting them. His bet was for Jimmy to stick around for an hour and forty-five minutes before getting hungry and leaving.
Two hours later (Carl used every curse word that was known to gopher-kind, and made up a few new ones that seemed to suit the occasion), Little Jimmy was bored. Why did nothing interesting ever happen to him? Suddenly, he noticed dirt around the gopher hole shift, a few grains of dust falling down the slope and quickly disappearing into the dark. Finally, some action! There, more dirt falling, this time accompanied by a dull thud. More dirt falling and a louder thud, one that Jimmy could feel in the ground. It was extremely unusual for gophers of any size to be making that much commotion and noise (and sub-woofers had yet to be invented), so it was obviously something besides the furry little creatures that was causing what he saw and heard. Stiffly pushing himself to his feet, Jimmy stretched his limbs out and then walked over to the nearby hill, roughly in the direction of the thudding he was hearing and feeling. Cautiously he climbed to the top of the hill, making sure to keep his profile low so as to be less noticeable. At the top he paused and noticed that the sound had ceased. Taking a deep breath, he peeked his head over the crest to see what could be making such a noise. His imagination ran wild as he thought of all the crazy ideas he could. Maybe it was a rogue elephant, or a herd of buffalo, or some kangaroos jumping in unison. As it turned out, his imagination failed to run quite wild enough.
A large, purple lizard-like creature was crouched at the base of the down-slope of Jimmy’s hill. It’s large sinewy (Jimmy didn’t know what that word meant, but it seemed to fit somehow) tail was laying heavily on the ground behind it. There were two people on it, a goofy looking young man, and a young woman who was at least half angel, at least in Jimmy’s eyes. The large creature was staring back at the two people, not looking very happy. It’s small arms waved in the air, the sharp claws making whistling sounds as they cut through the air. Huge teeth glistened wetly as it opened its mouth and leaned forward towards the two youths. Suddenly, Jimmy was feeling very, very hungry. Without a sound, he stood up and fled towards his home, praying the entire way that he was just hallucinating, and hoping that the monster would at least finish his victims quickly and quietly.

* * * * * *

Gordon leaned very close to James and Mel, opened his mouth wide, and said, clearly and with conviction: “Get off of my tail, or I shall be forced to dine on your innards.”
Even without much experience in this particular scenario, James was pretty sure that it was best not to anger a dinosaur, especially one with as many teeth as Gordon. Wordlessly he slid off the tail and onto the ground, followed closely by Mel. They watched as the large purple dinosaur continued to wave his arms in frustration and obvious angst. Obviously they should have asked if they could ride his tail rather than just hopping on. How were they to know that his tail was so sensitive?
After a moment, the thunder lizard managed to calm himself down enough to talk without bellowing. “All right, we are near the town. It is only a single mile hence. Remember, find the artefact and bring it back to me.”
James and Mel simply nodded and climbed the hill that was facing them. They had just reached the top when James turned to ask Gordon a question. Much to his surprise, the dinosaur was already gone, and he was left facing a startled looking cow. It mooed at him in a rather offended manner and trotted away. How in the world, thought James, does something that big disappear so quickly? Something tugged at the edge of his mind, but before his brain could pull a brilliant answer from mid-air, he was distracted by Mel’s voice.
“James,” she said, tugging at his sleeve. “It looks like we may have been spotted.” She was pointing towards the small collection of houses that was only a short distance away. Or more correctly, she was pointing at the receding figure of a young child racing at full speed towards the town. “It looks like he came from here, or at least he would have assuming he ran a straight line.”
“Well,” began James. That was all he had to say about that particular subject. With a shrug he started walking down the hill.
Mel watched for a few moments, and then hurried to catch him. He certainly was a strange one.
They walked in silence for some time. The sun was warm on their backs, but a slight breeze was blowing the kept them comfortable. Long grass swayed in the breeze, looking like the waves of a green sea. As they approached the town, they intersected a beaten path. It seemed to lead directly into the middle of town, so they decided to follow it. Perhaps this would also lead them directly to the mysterious artefact that they were supposed to be finding.
Carl the gopher sighed. This just wasn’t his day. He had bet that at least one of them would turn an ankle in one of their holes, and he had even gone ahead and dug fresh holes to increase his chances of winning, but they had avoided them all. What rotten luck.
As the reached the first house, they noticed something on the road. It seemed like an ordinary rock, except for its green colour, and the fact that it was moving towards them at a fairly steady pace. It neared, accompanied by a sound. “OhmygoshhavetotellwhatamIgoing-tohowcanIletwhatcanIdo…” Ruds’ familiar voice cut through the morning air (actually, it was evening, but since James had no real concept of east or west, he thought the sun was just rising, making it morning. He was wrong), but it seemed even more hurried and disjointed than usual. His pace was also elevated from his normal slow crawl. It was really quite odd to see a turtle hurrying, but there he was, doing everything in his power to run.
James hurried forward and scooped him up, giving him a quick hug. “Ruds, there you are. We were worried about you, we thought you had left us.”
The turtle seemed to barely notice that he was no longer on the ground. With legs still churning he continued to babble incomprehensibly. Suddenly, he stopped and his head snapped around to look James square in the face. “Jamesyou’reherethat’swonderfulIwas-worriedthatIwastoolate.” He paused there, the first time anyone had actually heard him take a breath, and he panted, obviously winded from his speedy pace.
Mel came up and held Ruds for a moment. “It’s okay, just calm down.” She stroked his shell, which seemed to help somehow. Finally he spoke again. “Ijustcamebackfromtownandyoutwoareinserious-troubleGordonhasliedtoyouyouarereallygoingto-grabsomethingthatwillgivehimpowerovereveryone.”
“What are you talking about?” James looked the turtle in the eye again, and was surprised to recognise a hint of panic there. “Take it slow and tell me exactly what happened.” The turtle explained himself, interrupted often by questions from the two travellers. As near as James could figure, Ruds had gone into town, aided by a small child, and found the artefact, which just happens to be another time machine. Somehow, though, this time machine was, or will be, or already will be was (this is why verbs have tenses…you’d be tense too if you had to try and figure out the past present future cases at the same time) special in some way. It was more powerful than the one Gordon had, and able to defeat his schemes, whatever those were. James was still trying to figure out what those plans were when he was interrupted by a loud scream from down the street.
“Those are the people,” came the voice. “They were riding the monster’s tail.” Mel and James looked at each other with panic in their eyes. Mel said a very unladylike word before turning to the gathering crowd and smiling.
“Good day kind sirs and ladies. We have travelled from yonder town and do be tired. Perhaps we may findeth ourselves some lodging?”
James leaned over to her and under the ruse of a large yawn he covered his microphone. “Just talk normal, the headset will translate, remember. You sound foolish.” He enjoyed watching her redden slightly.
Little Jimmy ran up to them and looked at them suspiciously. “Are you ghosts?” he asked them. “Because that monster was going to eat you.”
Thinking quickly, James laughed heartily. “What an amazing imagination you have.” He crouched down and looked him in the eye. “We were certainly not eaten by any monster. As you can tell, we are perfectly fine.”
Jimmy eyed him suspiciously, but was smart enough to know when he was defeated. Two strangers from another town would be believed before a five year old ranting about monsters. Oh well, he knew the truth, and he was sure that it would come out eventually. Until then, he would watch them like hawks. He could hunt people as easily as gophers.
Mel shivered slightly under the gaze of the five year old. He had obviously seen them with Gordon, and though no one would believe his story, he seemed determined to make people believe somehow.
The cow sneezed. Darn these allergies.

So there you have it, the dinosaur is evil after all. But then who is good? When will we ever find out? Can this new time machine really usher in victory? But victory for who? There are many questions, and probably at least a few answers in the next instalment of:
The Importance of a Good Breakfast.
Same Schlakenheisermandervorsonovichenburger time, same Schlakenheisermandervorsonovichenburger place!

Stream of Consciousness

…be dead on the inside i cant imagine how to be alive why is this happening my anger is so unjustified but i am constantly pushed aside where is anyone when i need them how can i possibly seek god when he is so distant why does he always seem to hide from me where is everyone alone and scared i cry out in fear learning to use the darkness as a blanket how come i cant do it right when will it be my turn to love to smile to be alive the fear is driving me insane pick up the phone use it why should i bother its not like anyone cares is there light at the end of the tunnel when can i go home again the humour hides who they really are lol lol oh god why cant i stop laughing im afraid of who i will become the god of wonders seems to ignore me but why cant i just walk away it seems so easy others do it all the time but here i am again crying out to the one who never seems to answer am i a glutton for punishment the seeming illogic of these actions are so unvulcan but i wait again to hear something anything worth sticking around for i hear a voice i was not expecting to hear i shake my head a ray of hope slams into me full force am i taking this too hard will i really find what im looking for i dont know maybe this time will be different than every other time wait i hear a voice again louder this time is the answer finally before me i listen harder and the voice comes clearer it says…

Thunderfunk the Superchicken - Pt 3

3. The Magic Word

Slowly, the Harrier descended, its jets kicking up dirt and debris as it started to settle onto its landing gear. Without warning, the jet pitched forward as part of the landing pad swung away. The remaining half followed immediately, and the jet started to fall into the glowing lava pit that was hidden beneath. Not even fazed, Straw Daq immediately fired the engines to full blast and lifted the jet back up into the sky.
Thunderfunk looked down and whistled softly. “Nice save Straw.” The jet moved over and settled on a nice firm piece of lawn. They hopped out of the jet and walked to the edge of the pit. “It’s a good thing you reacted as quick as you did. If we had splashed down there, the lava alligators surely would have ripped us to shreds.”
An odd expression crossed the young pilot’s face. He glanced sharply at the chicken, and then peered down at the lava pit. Bubbles of hot magma burst at the surface as the lava rolled over itself, almost like a living thing. Indeed there seemed to be some log like objects floating around the surface. “Those aren’t lava alligators,” he began, only to be cut off by his companion.
“You’re right of course.” The chicken looked down the pit more intensely. “Those are lava crocodiles. Entirely different.” He turned on his heel and started walking towards the house.
After a moment of stunned silence, Straw hurried to catch up. “That’s not what I mean,” he said breathlessly. “I mean that lava alligators and lava crocodiles do not exist.”
“And yet,” countered the Superchicken, “there they are in all of their glory.”
Straw stopped in his tracks and just stared at the chicken’s back. There was so much about the world that just did not make sense to him. It was times like this that he wished he was still doing barrel rolls at county fairs. At least gravity still made sense. He ran once again to catch up. He had a feeling that he should be present when these two rivals had a face to face.
As they walked, they looked over the grounds around them. The estate was possibly larger than Thunder’s, though it was not quite as picturesque. A grove of trees was to the side of the house, surrounding a picnic area. The rest of the grounds was just manicured lawn. The fake landing pad was about 200 yards behind the house, just to the left, while the real landing pad was about fifty yards from the house, just to the right. On the real landing pad was a Westland WAH-64 helicopter, a Gazelle helicopter, and a Lynx AH9 anti-tank helicopter, which was out of service at the moment because the wheels were all smashed up, as though its last landing had been particularly hard.
The house itself was rather impressive. Three stories high, it was a mansion by any definition of the word. Built in the early nineteenth century, it seemed to have been built with style in mind, rather than comfort. The walls were stone and the roof was clay mission tiles in a faded red colour. A balcony ran along most of the entire second floor, and isolated rooms on the third floor as well. The windows were high and rectangular, looking very foreboding. Thunder walked up the path that cut through the garden in the back and rang the doorbell.
It was but a moment before the door opened to reveal a man in a butler’s uniform standing stiffly before them. Thunder was sure that this was the butler, and he was proved right when the man spoke. “Good evening gentlemen. I am The Butler, the butler. May I take your coat?”
Since neither Thunderfunk or Straw had a coat, they declined the offer and were subsequently ushered down a short hallway to a waiting room where The Butler left them. They waited for about fifteen minutes, chatting about sports (‘I think curling IS a sport, Straw’, ‘Well, you also think lava crocodiles are real’) and knitting (‘Is it purl one, knit two, or the other way around?’, ‘I’m not sure, I crochet myself’) until The Butler came back. “Mr. Breadbuuter will see you now,” he intoned.
They followed the butler to the drawing room where Cornelius J. Breadbuuter sat in a comfortable easy chair. He was a tall, willowy man with a pale complexion offset by a shock of red hair that seemed to be perched precariously on the top of his head. His clothes were immaculate, and he sat smoking an ornately carved pipe. A snifter of brandy sat at his elbow. He waved his two guests in before bounding enthusiastically to his feet. “Can I get you anything to drink,” he offered, hurrying over to the bar in the corner and grabbing a couple glasses. “I have the most exquisite scotch that you simply must try.”
Straw demurred politely, saying that he had to fly and couldn’t drink, but Thunder accepted gratefully. A sip was all he needed to see that his host was correct in claiming this to be a fine vintage of scotch. “Thank you sir,” he said before settling himself down in a chair that was facing the chair into which Cornelius settled himself. Thunderfunk leaned forward. “I simply love what you have done with this place,” he said enthusiastically. A sweep of his wing encompassed the entire room. One wall was devoted to different books, from advanced texts on the latest in quantum physics to J. D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye. Paintings adorned the remaining walls, including an original van Gogh. “This room was being renovated the last time I was here.”
Cornelius nodded sagely. “Yes, and what an awful experience that was. The contractor gave me an estimate, and then was way over budget. And he took way more time to do the job than he had promised.” He sighed heavily. “So I had no choice but to kill him.”
This interested Thunderfunk greatly, and he listened as Cornelius described the torture of the tradesman before finally throwing him to the lava crocodiles. When the story had finished, Thunder sat back in his chair. “Amazing,” he breathed. “The feather actually worked out that well for you? I always have trouble with that.” He looked over at Straw Daq, who was sitting on a couch behind them. “Lava crocodiles.” The young man merely rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“And you,” said Cornelius. “How have things been going in your neck of the woods. That coat must be new. Where on earth did you find something so practical, yet so elegant.”
Beaming, Thunderfunk was only too happy to tell. “I picked it up at a fantastic bargain in the local haberdashery. The salesman there was bending over backwards to try and make the sale. He was extremely friendly - almost too friendly, leaving me with little choice.”
“You mean…?”
“Indeed. I had him killed and his shop burned to the ground.”
“Had him killed?”
A sigh. “Yes, well I was pressed for time. And not all of us are blessed with lava crocodiles. Where do you find such magnificent creatures?”
Cornelius smiled. “They were on special in the Evil Digest catalogue.”
Straw broke in here. “There’s an Evil Digest catalogue. For real.” He sounded very incredulous.
Thunderfunk fixed him with a steely glare. “If you cared to pay attention, you would know these things already.” Turning back to his host, he rolled his eyes. “I let my subscription lapse recently. I really should correct that unfortunate situation.”
A moment of silence passed as each man was lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly Thunder broke the silence. “By the way, old chap, would it be possible for you to stop your plans for global domination.”
Even though the question seemed random, Cornelius did not even bat an eye. “I’m afraid that’s out of the question.” Cooly, he gazed at his foe, almost daring a challenge.
With a shrug, Thunderfunk rose to his feet. Beckoning Straw, he turned to go. As he reached the entranceway, he turned back and stood for a moment. “Please?”
Cornelius merely shook his head. The matter was closed.
A few minutes later, Thunderfunk and Straw Daq sat in the Harrier jet, warming up the engines for take off. They had been escorted out of the house by The Butler and had walked to the jet in silence. Finally, Straw could take it no more. “What in the name of Peter was that? You just asked him, and that was it? How is that supposed to do anything?”
“Calm yourself,” replied the giant chicken. “I did say please. It was all that could be done. Now we must go to the governments and armies and halt this ourselves. The old fashioned way.”
Perking up, Straw ventured hopefully: “Through bargaining and diplomacy?” only to have his hopes dashed with Thunderfunk’s reply. “No, through explosives.” Straw could almost feel the evil glint in his partner’s eye. “Through maffive explofmmff…” He put a few more cookies in his mouth, enjoying them immensely. The woman may be annoying, but she sure could make cookies.

A title I couldn't refuse.

I have now officially seen the entire Godfather Trilogy. Frankly, I was rather impressed. I don't really know what I can say about them other than I liked them. I don't even know what it is about them that I liked. I think it was just a solid story, a tragic story, about a man trying to do what he felt was best for his family, and being pulled into a world that he didn't necessarily want, but one in which he excelled.
Before I saw these movies, I was under the impression that the third one was a terrible movie that should never have been made. Now that I've seen it, I would disagree and say that it is the best of the three, at least in my eyes. I think what got me was that this story was where the wheels seemed to completely come off of the wagon for the Coreleone family. He is trying desparately to get out, and he is constantly dragged back in by his sense of duty and honour. Something about the entire situation just appealed to me, the struggle in the face of overwhelming history I guess. Really, check out the movies. They're long, but worth it.

Super Grover!...has nothing to do with this posting.

For the past while, every time I go into my apartment, I've been smelling something that I couldn't quite identify. My best guess was that my new roommate was causing this smell somehow, though I wasn't sure how. I figured that because it hadn't been around before he moved in, but after he moved in, the aroma arrived.
Today, however, I experienced a breakthrough! As it turns out, on top of my fridge there were some cloves of garlic. Garlic that had been sitting there for a solid month now. Garlic that had turned to the dark side and started using its power for evil instead of good. I have now removed the garlic, and spent the entire night with my window open. That has cleared out the aroma rather well, and made it chilly in my room. My fingers are cold now. Actually, they are almost always cold, but there is an actual reason this time.
That's all.

The Importance of a Good Breakfast

5. Sporadic At Best

A small scraping sound roused James from his sleep, cutting through the vision of a thousand pancakes that had been dancing through his head (specifically, doing the watusi, or possibly the batusi). Obviously his cat was at his bedroom door, trying to get in as she did every morning. But if he was in his room asleep, why was he fully clothed? And why did his bed feel more like vinyl seats of some kind? And why was there a bumpy purple wall in front of him? The memories of the last day came flooding back and hit him like a tonne of bricks. He sat up, rubbing his head where the brick had made contact, feeling a bump already starting to develop. Snickering from the purple wall drew his attention.
“I am most sorry, James.” Gordon was trying not to grin too hard. “It’s hard to control one’s arms when they are as tiny as mine.”
James picked up the brick that was innocently sitting on the seats next to him and scowled. “As much as I appreciate your bringing a common simile to life, and as much as I appreciate you not using an actual tonne of bricks,” he said through gritted teeth, “I would really, really, REALLY appreciate you never doing that again.” Wondering where a brick had even come from was probably a waste of time, so James stood up and walked to the windows. A peaceful nature scene was playing, featuring a brook gently flowing across some low rolling hills. The scene was completed with a single cow standing off to one side, trying to look inconspicuous. “Nice scenery,” commented James. “The flashing colours start to bother you or something?”
“Actually James, we’ve landed.” Mel walked up beside him and looked out the window, giving the cow a strange look. “You know, that cow looks familiar somehow.” Almost as though it sensed her words (or more precisely, as though it were listening to the bug that had been planted inside the ship and so he had heard her words) the cow raised its head, looked the ship over and then wandered away nonchalantly.
“Yeah, you’re right,” said James, his eyes wide. “It looks like….every other cow I’ve ever seen, and ever will see.” Sarcasm dripped almost visibly off of his words. “And she thinks I’m paranoid.” With a shrug he turned around stretched. “So where are we?”An arched eyebrow was heavily implied on the eyebrow-less dinosaur. “We have already covered the answer to that particular question.”
“Oh yeah.” Silence for a moment. Real silence. Suspiciously, James looked over to the corner where Ruds had been sitting for most of the journey, only to find an empty spot. “Where’d the turtle go?”
Mel shrugged. “He said something about having to step out for a moment and that he’d be right back. That was about three hours ago, before we even landed.”
Together the three of them enjoyed the silence before moving on to other matters, but as they were to find out in the upcoming chapters (days, that should read days) there were not going to be any lasting moments of peace. Had they realised that, they might have taken the time to appreciate it more. Or to at least make some sort of witty comment that they could look back on and remember fondly. Sadly, they did neither. James, always the impetuous one, broke in with a question.
“Did anyone ever care about where Waldo was?” They looked at him quizzically. “Seriously, the guy seemed to get himself lost at the drop of a hat. At some point you’d think people would just leave him lost wherever he happened to be at the time.” Still there was no response. “I mean,” he continued, “when are we?”
“We have come back to where you can do the most good to start with, only a few hundred years in your past.” The group walked towards the main hatchway of the time ship. It hissed open and they stepped out into the fresh air. In the distance a small wisp of smoke wound its way into the sky. “Over those hills you will find a small settlement that will later grow to become your town. Somewhere hidden in this town is an artefact that must be found and destroyed. It was placed there by your enemy, James, and does not belong in this time, so be careful.”
As he talked, Gordon had led them to the main hatch. He stopped before he opened the door and gazed down at the pair solemnly. “Are there any questions?”
“Noo-o-oo.” James drew out the word thoughtfully. “Except for one or two. For instance: What is this artefact? Who is my enemy? Will we be understood? Won’t our clothes look out of place? Is there any chance we’ll have to buy something? Do we have any money to buy stuff with? Is it money that won’t look out of place? Are there many squirrel’s running around? What is the meaning of life? Can a clown breathe underwater? Will there be a test on this material? Are bon-bons really that good, or are they just bon? Is that too obscure a joke? Why is my underwear so itchy today?” He stopped short, his eyes wide as he looked at his companions. “It’d probably be best to just ignore that last one.”
“Well, in answer…” Before he could get very far, Mel jumped interrupted.
“Hey, how come he gets an enemy. That’s so not fair. I want an enemy.” She glared up at the purple dinosaur, tapping her foot impatiently.
“You’re well on your way to making one, my dear,” he muttered under his breath. More audibly, he replied, “You do not have an enemy because you are not destined to save humanity and all of time. You are simply a tag-along.”
A single arched eyebrow had James very nervous. Gordon may be a giant dinosaur, but he was vastly outmatched against an angry Mel. He jumped in to try and smooth things over. “You’re not really a tag-along, Mel. Your more of a companion. You see, if I tried to do this alone, I’d go crazy…er. It would be very hard to keep going without someone who understands me along that I can lean on. That, and you are so way more organised than I am. I’d probably forget my own head if it wasn’t attached. Speaking of which, you haven’t happened to have seen my shoe around anywhere, have you? I seem to have misplaced it.”
An exasperated Mel simply shook her head and motioned back to the hallway where the shoe was on its side by the wall. A wry grin broke across her face. “Well, I guess if I’m going to be a tag-along, I’d better be a useful one.” She looked up at Gordon. “Well, how about it, fish-breath. Answer James’ questions.”
“As I was saying before your outburst, we have everything you need to fit in. Follow me.” They returned to the main area of the time machine and waited as Gordon rooted around in a storage closet. After a moment, he pulled out two baseball caps with flashing lights on them. He tossed one to James and the other to Mel, who looked it over closely. James simply placed his on his head, flipping it around so that it was on backwards. Suddenly he was clothed in a poodle skirt and blouse.
After a moment of shocked silence, Mel found her voice. “Where did those clothes come from? And that hair? And why are they on backwards?”
James looked down at his new attire. Sure enough, the buttons on the blouse were on his back. Experimentally, he flipped the hat around, and his clothes switched around so that they were on normal. With a small grin, he turned the hat sideways, leaving the skirt and blouse completely messed up, on sideways. James laughed.
“Ah,” said Gordon thoughtfully. “It seems we will be required to journey to the nineteen fifties during the course of our adventure. But for now, allow me.” He held out his short, clawed hands. James took off his hat and tossed it back to the dinosaur. Mel followed suit. They watched as he rummaged around in the storage closet again, muttering under his breath. Something about not enough fish around and darn whippersnappers drifted down to the ears of the two youths, but that was about it. After a short time, Gordon emerged from the closet, holding a wire with a jack on each end. He plugged one end into the button on one of the caps, and then walked over to the main bank of computers near the pilot’s seat. As he plugged the hat into the computer, he explained. “These hats are Transmodifiying Imaging Enhancementators. They make it appear as though you were dressed in any style of clothing and hair possible. While activated, it is invisible to the naked eye, which is why it looked like he had a bouffant hairstyle a moment ago. As soon as you remove the hat, your regular clothes and hair are revealed, so it is imperative that you do not remove it for any reason. Also, wear it forward. You’ve seen what happens when you do otherwise. I am programming it to dress you in the appropriate clothing.”
Gordon pulled the plug out of the hat and computer and tossed the hat back to James, who quickly donned it once again. This time, his dress was on forward, as was his hair, which was a nice shade of strawberry blonde. He sighed. “Do I really have to go as a woman? I just don’t think that it is me.” He caught a reflection of himself and paused. “Although I do feel pretty…”
Mel reached up and snatched the hat off of James head and smacked him on the arm. “I’m pretty sure that this is mine,” she exclaimed, fitting the cap over her hair. Instantly she was transformed into a 17th century belle. She twirled experimentally, pleased with the result.
Eagerly, James snatched up the second cap. “If she’s a proper lady like that, then imagine what I must be.” He quickly put on his hat and looked at himself. Much to his chagrin, he seemed to be wearing second hand clothing with more than a few patches. “Hey, what am I? Some kind of bum?”
“Actually,” came Gordon’s bemused reply. “You are more of a servant. It is necessary for safety’s sake that you travel as her servant. Besides, she is much more clever than you are at thinking on the go, it would seem.”
The smirk on Mel’s face was enough to drive James crazy, but he refused to show it. With an overly casual shrugged, he merely nodded in agreement and changed the subject. “What about language. They couldn’t have spoke perfect English.”
“Well, that does not seem to be much of an issue for yourself either,” muttered Gordon as he returned to the storage shed. “I have an earpiece,” came the muffled voice, “and an attached microphone. It will instantly translate anything you say or hear, and is attached to the hat, so it is of vital importance that you do not remove either for any reason.” He emerged once again with exactly what he had promised them. The each received it gratefully and placed it in their ears.
Suddenly, James was suspicious. “Are you really a dinosaur, or are you just wearing a hat and earpiece?” His eyes narrowed sceptically as he waited for a response.
The dinosaur’s eyes widened in surprise. He had not been expecting this question. “I assure you that I am just as you see me, my good sir.”
“Okay.”
Together they walked to the door of the ship and headed outside. “Now remember,” Gordon spoke apprehensively. He did not feel confident about this mission at all. “Speed is of the essence. You must enter the town, find the object and leave immediately. It will be fairly obvious, and may have already been discovered by the locals. Whatever happens, do not let them stop you from reaching your objective.”
James simply nodded, and then turned to face the door. It slid open, the radiant sunshine blinding him temporarily. Together, he and Mel stepped out into the grassy field.

What a lousy trick, ending the story just as it was getting started. Ain’t I a stinker? What happens next? Will they find the mysterious object? Did James ever put his shoe back on, or is it still lying in the hallway? Does the author actually have any idea what’s going on? Will he actually come out with another chapter? Okay, the answer to that last one is ‘Yes’. Life has been busy, and he apologises for not being more diligent about getting you your fix of time travelling dinosaurs. But never fear, James shall return in the next instalment of:
The Importance of a Good Breakfast.
Same Schlakenheisermandervorsonovichenburger time, same Schlakenheisermandervorsonovichenburger place!

Sterves of Neel

As I stand their my stomach starts to quiver.
My mongue in my touth gets dry
My hands are clam and coldy
My feart heats baster
Down swores peat on the nose of my tip
Knaky shees, my are they now will be do um
Flutterbies tance in my dummy
Fzzt
Synapses misfire in my, um, thingy
My seye nevelop a tervous dwitch
Rettahc ot nigeb hteet ym
My hands are clam and coldy
I begin to begin repeat to begin to repeat myself
Nervous? Me?
No, I'm fine.
I've got sterves of neel!

Thunderfunk the Superchicken - Pt 2

2. Designing Large Empty Rooms for Megalomaniacal Geniuses

Thunderfunk ran down the hall to the secret stairway. Given that the staircase was simply behind a door that was marked “Not A Secret Stairway”, it wasn’t really much of a secret, but he had only been living there for a couple months, and other things had taken priority. But rest assured, he would get to it.
A quick journey down a few flights of stairs later he burst into the war room. Originally it had been a series of underground passages, storage rooms and hidden rooms that he had dug out and renovated into a thoroughly state of the art centre for his schemes. At the far end there was a lab set up for scientific experiments, and light baking. A passageway about halfway down led to a private jet hangar at the far ends of his estate grounds. It was wide enough a hall to accommodate a pair of modified golf carts side by side. The hangar itself housed four different types of aircraft: a helicopter, a completely restored Curtis JN-4 biplane, a heavily modified Stearman biplane, and a Harrier Jet. Both he and Straw Daq were proficient pilots, though Straw was the better of the two, and had made a living doing barnstorming at air shows before he met Thunder. At the near end of the war room was a series of exercise stations, giving him a place work out and unwind after tough days, as well as keeping him well trained for any fights that he may need to engage in. In the dead centre of the room was a large raised platform which housed his computers on one side, a table and chairs set up for meetings and the such, and a coffee station, because he seemed to find it hard to come up with dastardly schemes without a cup or two of java inside of him. Sometimes he wondered if he was addicted to the stuff, but usually he gave it no thought.
Already seated at one of the computer terminals, Straw was regarding a screen that was scrolling through some technical information. He turned his head slightly in acknowledgement of Thunderfunk’s entrance before going back to his readouts.
Thunder climbed the stairs and leaned over Straw’s shoulder, looking at the information. “Is this what I think it is?” he clucked softly.
Straw nodded. “It seems that he has decided to move earlier than we had expected.” The information stopped then, coming to the end, and he cleared the screen before turning around and regarding the large chicken worriedly. “I don’t know if we’re ready to stop him.”
A grin, a particularly evil grin, played across Thunder’s face, the red comb on the top of his head looking particularly menacing. “Don’t you worry, lad, we’re ready. He may be evil, but don’t you ever forget that Thunderfunk the Superchicken is the most evil of them all. And I think it’s time we paid Dr. Cornelius J. Breadbuuter a visit.” He turned on his heel and strode to the massive screen at the edge of the platform. Typing in a few commands, he brought up a display of the information that they had on the vile Dr. Breadbuuter.
Dr. Cornelius J. Breadbuuter held a PhD in Physics and Chemistry. He was obviously a genius, but he was also very evil. Thunderfunk and Breadbuuter had attended school together, where they had been very competitive. Whether it was competing to see who could get the highest mark in class, or seeing who could get the most bruises by running into the wall, they had always tried to outdo each other. Even now, years later, they still competed fiercely, trying to outdo each other’s insane plots. The latest scheme involved a series of political moves calculated to bring down a few major governments around the world through military skirmishes and mishaps engineered by the bad Dr. The ensuing chaos and manufactured scandals would cause the leaders to topple, leaving massive power voids that Breadbuuter was willing to fill. The information that Straw had been perusing had contained orders from the various armies regarding where they were going to be in the next few days. There had also been pictures of naval fleets putting out to sea, heading for potential hot spots. It appeared that the various fighting forces were starting to warm up, a scenario that was very dire indeed.
Thunderfunk regarded the plans intensely, formulating and discarding various counter-plans. After a few moments of silence, he straightened up and turned abruptly. “Ready the Harrier,” he said briskly, “we need to go pay this madman a visit. If we talk him out of it, I get bonus points, which would put me far ahead in the dastardly deeds competition.”
With a roll of his eyes, Straw rose to his feet. “Couldn’t we just walk?” he asked. “The guy lives next door. I know you both have large estates, but it’s only a five minute walk at the most. Besides, you’re starting to get a bit of a spare tire, if you know what I mean. The walk would do you good.”
Thunder looked down at his waist then back at his pilot. “Listen ‘friend’” he began hotly. “I am in perfect condition. And besides, the jet gives off an impression of power and superiority. He doesn’t have one, so it makes me look good.” A haughty expression settled on his face as he raised his head ever so slightly and peered down his beak at Daq.
“Fine.” Straw went down the stairs, muttering about the price of jet fuel these days, and did anyone know how much cabbage cost and how late it would be before he could get to bed, basically sounding like an old man.
Beady eyes turned to face the screen once again. “I think it’s time we twuly exfamind your twue mind, Dr Corneliuff…mmmfff…” The rest of his sentence was cut off as he placed more cookies in his mouth. They really were delicious cookies. Evilly delicious.

The Importance of a Good Breakfast

(Author's Note: When I was originally writing this, a brief Christmas interlude appeared between chpaters 3 and 4, which James refers to in the early part of chapter 4. However, I seem to have failed to save the interlude in the ensuing reformatting of my computer, and thus it is gone forever, though I may rewrite it at some point in the future. The basic plot of the interlude was James was inside a TV sitcom Christmas special, featuring every schmaltzy, cornball cliche that I could think of. Basically I was making fun of Christmas specials where someone makes a mistake and then has to find "the true spirit of Christmas" and that sort of stuff. It was funny, let me assure you of that. And now, on to the story)

4. Where when and where collide.

James glanced around and shook his head, clearing out the cobwebs. Apparently time travel always made him woozy. This would have been useful information a few minutes ago, but now it was too late. Or too early. Or maybe it wasn’t too late. Or early. Or whatever. Whenever. “I think we’re going to have to stop and pick up some aspirin. My head’s killing me.”
Gordon turned from the controls of the odd ship and shook his head. “I am afraid that such a stop is out of the question. We have already passed the time of easy headache remedies. If we were to stop now, we would have to wait at least one hundred years before it would even be invented.”
“Well, as long as you guys don’t pull another Christmas stunt, I should be okay.” Leaning forward, James looked out the window at the streaks of colour that were flying by the windows.
Mel looked up from the book she was reading. “What Christmas stunt are you talking about?”
The scenery distracted James enough that he missed the question at first, but Mel repeated it until it suddenly occurred to him what she was saying. He turned sharply and stared at her open-mouthed for a moment. “The Christmas thing you guys did. Remember? I went out to buy eggnog. Gordon bought tickets for a symphony thing instead of buying me a present.” Blank stares greeted his story. “It was like a bad sitcom Christmas special. Am I the only one who remembers this?”
The only thing that broke the ensuing silence came spewing from the turtle: “IlikeChristmasitremindsmeofpeanuts-whicharemyfavouritetypeofnut-nexttowalnutswhicharelikepuregold-tomeandmybrothersandsisters-ortheywouldbeifihadanysisters-butmyfamilyisallmenexceptfor-mymotherwhoisinfactawoman-whichisconvenientbecause-gettingamothertattoowould-bealittleweirdifshewasawoman-didyouknowhowmuchthey-chargeforatattooonaturtleitishighwayrobberyitell…..”

Gordon and Mel exchanged concerned looks. “I was afraid of this.” Somehow Gordon was expressing concern with facial expressions. This still seemed odd to James somehow. “He must be experiencing time travel sickness.”
“Is time travel sickness common?” Mel looked even more concerned than the dinosaur did, but that was only natural, seeing as how she had known James for a few years longer. “Is there a pill he can take or something?”
Gordon shrugged, which was a feat, given his complete lack of discernible shoulders. It reminded James of a worm trying to throw up, which really was not a pleasant thought. “This is the first time I have ever heard of anyone experiencing such a malady.”
Even Ruds (as they now called the turtle) chimed in with an opinion. “Iwassickonceithrewup-alloverthebackofmymomsHonda-thatshehadwoninalotteryafewyearsago-whichwasironicbecause-shehadherdriverslicencerevoked-fordrivingtooslowlyonthehighway-toomanytimeswhichisabsolutely-absurditsaconspiracytoopressturtles…” With his mind reeling James sat down heavily and was only moderately surprised to find that he already was sitting down. He looked at both Mel and Gordon, but found no help from either party. “I’m the only one who remembers any of this, aren’t I?” Finally, James made the only decision that made any sense. He decided that it had never happened and moved on. “Now that we are travelling, I have a few questions for you Gordon.” He rose to his feet and looked out the windows again, hypnotized by the streaking colours. Shapes seemed to almost take form before falling away to nothing.
The dinosaur looked surprised for a moment and glanced at Mel who merely shook her head and rolled her eyes. Not quite sure what to think of this sudden reversal in mood, he shrugged again (in the reflection of the window, it looked like an iguana shedding a layer of skin). “What is it you would like to know?”
“Well, first off, one word. Paradoxes.” James turned away and levelled a steady gaze at the tall beast before him. “Secondly…” He paused. “Actually, that’s the only question I have.”
If you have never experienced a dinosaur sighing, then you have never truly experienced a sigh. James’ hair flapped in the wind as the sound of rushing air filled his ears. The scent of fish washed over him yet again. “I was afraid that you would ask that question. I don’t have an answer. It just works out somehow. Accept it and move on.” With that, the giant purple thunder lizard turned back to his controls, which had obviously been designed for a creature with usable arms.
Well, that’s rather rude, James thought as he wandered around the ship, exploring it closely. I wonder what’s got him so upset? “Probably time travel sickness,” he muttered sarcastically. As for the ship, it was more impressive than it had seemed from the outside. When he had first spotted it, James had thought that it looked much like an oversized Edsel, at least on the outside. But the inside was much larger that he had supposed at first. There was the main compartment where they had all been gathered. That room housed the controls that Gordon used to direct the ship, however that worked. There were enough seats for seven more passengers, as well as two seats near the front that had control panels in front of them. James’ first inclination was too assume that they were for gunners, but that was probably a product of an overabundance of television as a child. And as a teen. Surrounding the cabin was a bevy of blinking lights that did absolutely nothing except blink. When asked, Gordon had simply shrugged and muttered something about it looking cool for the ladies, which was a thought that James did not want to explore even slightly, so he had quickly moved the conversation to other aspects. The best feature of the cabin area, at least in James’ opinion, was the milkshake machine near the entrance. In fact, there was a full bar there, stocked with nothing but ingredients for any flavour of milkshake possible. James had already tried a banana kumquat shake, as well as a chicken mushroom flavoured milkshake. Come to think of it, that could explain a few things.
He left the main area and wandered down a short corridor which led to a fully stocked kitchen with a rather cramped dining room, essentially a square table with four chairs squeezed around it. Beside that was a small room with what looked like video monitors all around the room. A button on the wall caught his eye, and before he could stop himself James pushed it, not sure what to expect. The monitors flared to life, showing a rather scenic nature setting. Without warning a swarm of something came swooping into the picture, straight at where James was standing. As they flew past him, flashing by on each side and onto the monitors behind him what felt like a thousand small pinpricks covered James’ arms, neck, and face; basically all of his exposed flesh was hit. The screens went dark and some writing that looked like a weird cross between Russian and Chinese symbols flashed in front of him. He could not read it, but the number was written in a language he did understand. ‘0’ it proclaimed boldly. A square at the bottom flickered, a single word (presumably) written on it. Instinctively James reached for it and, even though he never actually touched the screen where it was located it acted like it had been pressed. It started to make some sense to James. This time, when the same scene popped up, he was being more observant. A light on the floor that was illuminating another button blazed to light, and without pausing James stepped on it. A stick like weapon popped out of the floor into his hand, and when the swarm reappeared he started swinging wildly and was rewarded with the sight of a large number of the objects go flying into the nearby lake, a few of them exploding before they hit the water. He still felt like he had been hit by a thousand tiny ball bearings, but this time it was noticeably less than the first time. When the writing came back up, the number was much larger. Satisfied, James put the stick back into the hole it had come from and exited the room.
Down the other corridor there were a few rooms with beds and showers, obviously the crew’s quarters. There was little of interest in the rooms, though he did notice that the beds were huge, easily large enough for a ten foot tall man, and all of the tables, cupboards, and other fixtures were also at the appropriate height for extremely tall people. If he didn’t know better, he would say that this ship had originally been designed for a time travelling team of basketball players who were also crime fighters. Chuckling softly to himself he returned to the main cabin.
As it turns out, he did not know better, and a team of time travelling, crime fighting basketball players had been the original owners of the ship. At least, they were going to have been the future previous owners of the ship, many years ago in the future. Now you can see why more people avoid time travel. The verbs make communication very hard, or at least extremely long winded.James re-entered the main room and plopped down beside Mel. “What ‘cha reading?” he asked as he peered over her shoulder.
“Hmm? Oh, I’m just looking at major events in history so we can know what to expect when we land.” She sounded rather distracted, so James let her be. She was way more studious than he had ever been, and James recognised this mental state that she was in right now. Conversation would be hard and drawn out and she would get irritated because he was distracting her and he would be irritated because she was ignoring him and they would argue and then things would get really awkward in the time travel machine. James was actually impressed that she could concentrate at all with Ruds sitting in the corner still talking up a storm. That guy never stopped talking.
Suddenly Mel’s head snapped up and she gave James an odd look. “Am I just a token female here?”
Well, at least she was talking to him. “Um…no. No you’re not.”
“Then why aren’t there more women here? Seriously. It’s me and three guys.”
James let out an exasperated sigh. “For the record, of the three guys, one is a giant purple dinosaur, one is a turtle, and only one is a fellow human. We’re pretty much all tokens.”
“Oh, good point.” With that her head dropped again and she was lost in the battle at Waterloo.
“Until the day I perish, I shall never understand women.” Gordon made a few adjustments to the panel in front of him and turned around to face James. He had obviously had a chance to cool down somewhat from his earlier huffy mood.
James sat down at one of the seats in front of a control panel, being very careful not to touch anything. “So where exactly are we going?” The reply did nothing to answer his question.
“Absolutely nowhere.” The dinosaur looked at the young man serenely.
A moment of silence passed as James mulled over this answer. “Then why in Sam hill have we been stuck inside this tin can for the past two hours?”
“Because,” came the patient reply, “we are not going to a where. We are going to a when.”
“Oh.”
In reply to his still confused look, Gordon provided a longer explanation. “When we are done travelling, we will be a few thousand years in the past. But geographically we will still be in the exact same spot we were when we left.”
“Oh. That’s cool.” James felt slightly foolish. It seemed simple enough to have grasped without an explanation, but he had missed it. On the other hand, the scenery was pretty neat. “What causes all the streaks of colour outside the window there?”
“That?” Gordon chuckled softly. “That is nothing more than a computer generated image.”
“Oh. Well, can I see what’s really out there?”
“I’m afraid that is out of the question. If I allowed you to look out the window then your mind would collapse in upon itself, and then the entire universe would be doomed.”
“Oh. That’s all right then, I’m good.”
With that the two of them settled into a comfortable silence.
Outside of the ship a solitary cow clung to the window, its eyes wide. This was the last mission he ever volunteered for.

Will this journey through time ever end? How does a cow cling to anything? Is clung a word? Will there ever be any sheep showing up in the story. All of this and much much less, or more, or about the same amount, but I’m not promising anything, in the next instalment of: The Importance of a Good Breakfast.
Same Schlakenheisermandervorsonovichenburger time, same Schlakenheisermandervorsonovichenburger place!

Retraction

It turns out that Raymond had nothing to do with my movies being stolen. Seems like my friends think they are funnier than they are. Rob and Peter, I shake my head at you. And Jeff and Adam, who were in on the joke. And anyone else who knew. Tsk tsk. The rest of you will be happy to know that I have my movies back. They were in the garage.

Raymond Raymond Raymond

I had another visit from Raymond last week. For those of you who don't know, Raymond is the name I have chosen for my movie thief. Why Raymond? Somehow it seemed to fit. So now I am down to seven movies, three of which I bought today (Fargo, Clue, and Titan A.E. were bought today, Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind, Shaun of the Dead, The Brainiac, and Lost in Translation were the ones remaining from before), plus my VHS. I don't think that Raymond has a VCR, just a DVD player. On the upside, all of the windows in my car are completely whole. I have not had a window in my car smashed for a solid year now, so that's good. I think I should leave cookies out for Raymond. He seems like a reverse Santa Clause. You know, it seems appropriate that it was a dark, rainy, autumn day that I found out the movies were stolen and not just accidentally taken by Jeff when he moved out. Fits the mood somehow.
Don't feel too bad for me, though. It's just movies. I'll buy more, don't you worry. Nothing else was taken, no one was hurt, and I'm not terribly concerned. The way I figure it, either I'm being tested by God for something, punished by God for something, or these are just experiences in my life that are shaping me into the man I will become. No matter what, I'm not worried.
Peace out y'all.

Oh yeah, the reason I have named my DVD thief is that I think it may have been the same guy both times, so I figure I may as well name him. Both times only DVDs were taken, even though there were computers/TVs/CDs/etc sitting around that were also easy to steal and use/get rid of in a hurry. My guess is he figures there is less to worry about with taking movies because they are such low value that people won't try too hard to find him, especially not the police. That's my theory anyway.

Do the Care Bear Countdown (5..4..3..2..1!)

Well I learned something about being prepared yesterday. I shaved my head after youth last night, but before I did, I made sure that I had a broom handy. After I was done, I swept up the hair, and then I had to ask Darrell (who lives upstairs and is not me, though he shares my name) for a dustpan so that I could do something with the hair.
Oh, by the way, I shaved my hair yesterday. Yesterday being Wednesday for me, though that is probably at least two days ago for those reading this. Either way, I now have no hair. This is not terribly shocking for people who have known me for some time, as I had my head shaved constantly for most of high school and my first year of college, and sporadically for a few years after that. As for why, I really don't have a reason. I was taking a shower, and by the time I was done, I had decided to shave my head as long as I could find a broom, which I did. I cannot put my finger on the decision, though. I was simply decided at some point, and then I did it. Officially, though, the reason is that I sneezed extremely hard and blew the hair out.
One of my recent posts was the victim of two spam comments, so I turned on the word verification for my comments. Basically this means that there will be an extra step to leave a comment where you have to type in a word that appears on your screen. That prevents anonymous spam comments because the programs that make such comments are unmanned and so they can't enter the word, thus preventing their comments from being posted. If anyone else is interested in using this feature, simply go to your BLOG Settings and under the Comments section turn the Show word verification for comments? option to ON.
I was driving home from work today and discovered that talking to cops always makes me nervous, no matter how innocent of anything that I am. I found this out because I was stopped at a roadside check. They asked me if I had consumed any alcohol that night, to which I replied 'No'. Then he asked where I was going and I replied 'Safeway, and then home. I just got off work.' Then he told me to have a nice day and I left. That was it, and I was a little nervous the whole time. For absolutely no reason. It's like I'm paranoid that something bad is going to happen, or that they'll find any reason to take my licence away or take my car away. I'm not terribly worried about being arrested, but I don't want them to take my car!
Speaking of cops, there were some cops at our youth event on Wednesday evening. We were at Bowness Park, playing some games and having a barbecue. The police were riding by on their bikes and they stopped by one of our youth who was minding his own business. Then they took away his bracelet because it might be used as a weapon. It's one of those 'punk' ones, the black leather with the studs around it. I don't know if this was one with the short little stubby studs that are the size of buttons, or these were the short spikes because I haven't seen it, or at least I don't remember seeing it. But I do know that the guy they took it from is about as menacing as a mouse. He is a good guy and it is completely ridiculous that they would have to take away his bracelet because it might be a weapon. This very much looks like a case of them picking on him because he is a teenager. I'm someone who tends to give the benefit of the doubt, however, so I'm not going to say that they were picking on him because he was a youth, but I can't really see any other legitimate reason for taking it away. Especially when you consider the fact that the group just down the field from us was consuming alcohol and being very raucous and the cops just rode on by. I feel bad for our youth because he was minding his own business and this happened. He didn't deserve that.
I have new windsheild wipers and they work great. The old ones were almost as old, if not the same age, as Venessa (my car, which is from 1989). The only problem is that they are a little bit bigger than my old ones, and they get stuck on the edge of the hood. Actually, it's just one , the one on the driver's side, but it stops both of them. If I ever get a moment free, I will see about doing something about that. I'm not sure what because I have to take a closer look, but I will find out soon enough.
And now I'm done.
Toodles

Thunderfunk the Superchicken - Pt 1

1. Plot Points and Feathers

The soft voice of the computer came from the hidden speakers: “Target acquired. Attempting to lock.” Thunderfunk waited, eagerly anticipating the destruction of his mortal foe. Finally he would be free. One feathered finger hovered over a lone red button, simply labelled: Destrooy. Once he was done here, he would really need to re-label this particular button. And maybe he could test the one that said Armneod. He hadn’t quite been able to figure out what that button was for. Hopefully it involved massive amounts of explosives, but it was hard to say.
He looked up at the massive screen hanging above him. A set of crosshairs was following a figure that was dashing in a crazy zig-zagging pattern across an expanse of grass. A beeping tone was sounding faster and faster, coming close to the steady tone of a missile lock. Anticipation almost made him shake with glee. It also made him jump out of his seat, feathers flying everywhere, when a finger tapped him on the shoulder.
“Thunder,” said Straw Daq, a bemused expression on his face. “You have a guest.” He backed up a step and walked down the stairs of the raised platform on which the computer station was resting. “I’m working on my plane over in the hangar if you need me,” he called over his shoulder.
“Target lost,” announced the computer softly. Thunderfunk sighed. He would get the vile villain one of these days. For now, however, it was time to entertain. As he walked through his war room (as he liked to call it), he wondered who was visiting him. Hopefully it was his accountant with news about possible tax breaks, or money laundering schemes. Either one would be all right. He passed through a hallway into his living room and stopped dead. “How did you get in here?” he demanded gruffly. Somehow his security had been lax yet again, allowing this fiend into his house.
“That dear boy of yours let me in,” replied Mrs. Henderson. In her hand was a plate covered in cookies and wrapped with saran wrap. “I baked these for you.” She smiled up at him as he stepped forward and reluctantly accepted the cookies from her hand.
“Thank you,” he replied, his words short and clipped. “Now if you’ll excuse-” He watched as she started going around the room, straightening up cushions and fluffing pillows.
“Tsk tsk. You need to tidy up around here.” She sat herself down on the edge of his sofa and looked up at him primly. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your son. That ridiculous costume he always wears, like an old time pilot. And always so filthy, covered in head to toe with grease. Why the other day…”
Thunderfunk stopped listening as Mrs. Henderson droned on. For some reason this woman had decided to make his life miserable day after day, always finding excuses to come and harass him. And somehow she had come to the conclusion that Straw Daq was his son, not his pilot. He had tried everything to get her to stay away, but she continued to return. Recently he had hired a security guard, an ex-Marine who had been tortured in two separate countries, to watch the front gate of his mansion whose sole purpose was to stop her from entering the premises. After being lectured for two hours on the importance of being respectful to his elders and the importance of treating a guest properly he had finally sent her inside along with a hastily scrawled resignation letter. Despite himself, Thunderfunk had been slightly impressed with that feat.
A few moments of silence passed before Thunder realised that she had stopped talking and was awaiting a response. “Mrs. Henderson,” he replied with a sigh, “let me start by saying, once again, that Straw Daq is still not, nor has he ever been, my son. And furthermore…” he continued, pointing a feathered finger in her direction, placing the plate of cookies on the coffee table. Before he could complete his thought he was interrupted by a loud alarm. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. Please see yourself out.” With that he turned to leave, only to stop short when he remembered the cookies. Quickly he scooped up the plate and ran to the hall. He ground to a halt and stuck his head back into the living room. “You’re infernal cat found its way onto my grounds again, Mrs. Henderson. Next time I will destroy him with my laser.” With that he was gone.
Mrs. Henderson shook her head. “That man,” she muttered to herself. “So handsome, but so scatterbrained.” With that she collected her hat and coat and walked out of the door, calling for her cat.

Two Flims

Two new movies for you today:
First The Island starring Ewan McGregor and Scarlett Johansson. This movie was an decent action flick. The tale revolves around McGregor and Johansson as they learn that they are merely clones of real people. They thought that they were the only survivors of a terrible planet wide contamination, and they are waiting for their chance to go to an island that is the last clean spot on the planet. Once they find out that it's a lie, they manage to escape and survive on the outside, a word that they have never seen. There were some logic difficulties in the movie as there always are, but not enough to ruin the film. I'd say go see this one in the cheap theaters (where it is now) because these movies always seem more fun on a really huge screen.
Second movie is called The Brainiac, originally titled Baron of Terror. This is a movie from 1962, made in Mexico, and dubbed into English. It is the story of a baron who was sentenced to death in 1661 by the inquisition for doing magic and seducing women. As he dies he manages to snag a ride on a comet that was passing by, and 300 years later he returns to town to kill the descendents of those who killed him in the first place. It is a horror movie from the sixties, so it is more of a comedy now. It's not so bad that it would make it onto Mystery Science Theatre 3000. The actors are actually not too bad, though the cops on the trail of the killers are almost like comedic relief, though I'm not sure if that was intentional, or if the English voices were just misplayed. Actually, they reminded me of the cop from the Lupin series of Anime films. Kind of serious and funny at the same time. The Brainiac is full of common cliches and bad lines, just like any horror movie from the time. My favourite lines, however, are the following exchange between the main two characters, a man and a woman who are engaged, and who also happen to be astronomy students. They go to search for the meteor that seems to have landed nearby, and there they meet the villain, though they don't yet know he is the villain. They have this to say to him:
Ronny: You see sir, we're astronomers. And we're observing a meteor.
Vicky: Oh but Ronny, this gentleman doesn't understand a thing that you're saying to him.
Apparantly meteors and astronomy were advanced science words back in the sixties. All in all, though, it was kind of a fun flick. And it was only $2, so I'm not complaining.
Until next time, keep it real, keep it tight, and keep your real tight pants to yourself.

The Importance of a Good Breakfast

3. Whatever You Do, Don’t Let the Turtle Drive

James returned a few moments later, carefully cradling the turtle under his arm. Fortunately it had managed to avoid answering the call of nature while it was in his locker. The turtle’s legs were pushing at James’ arm, like it was trying to get away, but he was holding it too tightly to let it escape. He burst into the classroom where he had left Mel and promptly tripped over a desk, narrowly missing slamming into the upturned legs of another. Quickly he jumped to his feet, brushing himself and trying to act casual. “How’s it going?” he asked casually as he sauntered up to Mel. She didn’t reply, instead choosing to remain standing rigidly in the spot he had left her, staring at the dinosaur.
“Charming woman,” came the fish-odour voice from the window.
A shrug. “Odd. Usually she’s good with animals.” James shook her slightly, but she refused to move. “Did she say anything to you at all?”
The purple dinosaur shook its head, or it seemed like he did. It was hard to tell exactly what the dinosaur was thinking. “I believe all she said was, and I quote: ‘squeak, squeak’”
“Squeak.”
“No, my dear. You have previously made that point. It is time to move on.”
“Right.” James was a little worried for Mel, but he was sure she would snap out of it. She was pretty tough. “Anyway, I brought the turtle. You’re not going to eat it, are you?” He held out his hands to show the dinosaur the shelled creature, but noticed that something seemed to be missing. As he gazed down the length of his arms, his empty fingers waved back. The turtle, it seems, was missing.
“Splendid job lad.” The dinosaur was definitely being sarcastic. That seemed to be a clear cross-species trait. “Now, go fetch me the visible turtle.”
Who knew dinosaurs would be so snooty. “I did have a visible turtle. I just seem to have misplaced it.” He looked around, trying to decide where the critter could have disappeared to.
“Perhaps,” replied the dinosaur, “its escape was facilitated by your erstwhile tumble.”
“I didn’t trip. I was testing gravity. You’ll be happy to know that it is as strong today as it was yesterday.” Sullenly, James headed back towards the door to make a thorough search.
“That would be a natural assumption,” came the rumbling voice behind James.
Before he could ask what that meant, he spotted the slothful reptile. It was making a beeline for the door, and frequently looking over its shell as though checking for pursuit. “No you don’t,” spoke James as he scooped it up. “You’re important. Maybe as an appetizer before supper, I’m not sure. He does seem to like sea food.” The turtle looked back at him with seeming terror in its eyes, and James suddenly realised that he was looking at a turtle eye to eye as if it could understand him. On the other hand, he was about to hand it over to a talking dinosaur, so anything was possible.
James managed only a single step back into the room before he ran into a very upset looking woman. “Uh, Mel, you’re in my way.” The room was deathly silent. “Which is okay. If that’s where you want to be, I’m fine with that.”
She snatched the turtle out of his hands. “You are not letting him eat this turtle.” The words were almost visible in the air around them. James nodded silently, swallowing hard. He had not been this terrified in a while. Suddenly the turtle was the most sacred thing he could think of on the planet.
“You’re right. No turtle eating, gotcha.” He looked over her shoulder at the T-rex that was standing patiently at the window. “You weren’t going to eat it, were you?” A nervous laugh died in his throat. “Consider your answer very carefully. I’ve seen this woman upset, and quite frankly, she’d kick your butt.”
Again, the impression of a head shake. “My dear, the turtle is my desired entrée. They are very bitter. But the turtle is important to my plans, as is your friend there. Now let us make haste, we do not have the luxury of time at the moment.”
Just then the sirens that had been sounding louder throughout the entire episode exploded into full fury as they reached the school. It sounded like the entire police force was out to meet the threat. In fact, as James peeked out the window, it looked like most of the city’s police force was there. For the first time in his life, James felt like going somewhere and committing a crime. Instead, he ducked down and crouched on the floor, motioning Mel to follow suit. The turtle wisely decided to retreat into its shell. Now what were they going to do?
Fortunately, the dinosaur seemed well prepared. “I will lead them away. The two of you make your escape and meet me at the old slaughterhouse on the outskirts of town. Do you know the one of which I am speaking?”
James nodded.
The dinosaur waited.
James nodded harder.
The dinosaur sighed.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” James turned red as Mel slapped a hand over her mouth and laughed to herself. “Yes, I know the slaughterhouse. We’ll meet you there. But will this take long? I’ve got an event tonight that I need to go to.”
“Do not fret young man. The time will not be a factor, as least not as you see it. Meet me in one hour. I am away.” With that, the dinosaur bolted away from the window. A volley of shots followed his progress, but he wasn’t slowed down. Soon the sound of his footsteps faded into the distance, as did the sound of sirens as they chased him.
A quick peek over the ledge showed a series of footprints in the concrete, and an empty front lawn, save for a single smashed police cruiser. The officer was standing beside his car, looking forlorn. “Good-bye Edna,” came the lament from the cop. The police were a strange bunch.
James stuffed the turtle into his bag, and the two teens exited the room. The worked their way down the hall, moving as quietly as possible in an effort to escape detection. A voice came from around the corner, not quite loud enough for any words to be understood, but loud enough to cause racing hearts in both of them. They ducked into an open room and flattened themselves against the wall. The voices fell silent, but the sound of footsteps persisted. They came closer before fading into the nearby stairwell. James looked out in time to see a familiar looking shoe ascending the stairs before it disappeared entirely.
Quickly he darted out of the room and down the stairs, Mel close on his heels. A startled looking cow stood mooing in the lobby when they got there, but they were in too much of a hurry to pay it any mind, or to notice how closely it followed their movements, though a part of James briefly wondered if it was the same one he had seen on Mr. Von Schlakenheisermandervorsonovichenburger’s lawn earlier that day, or if he was just imagining the entire thing. A quick dash later they were in Mel’s house, gathering up some food and supplies. “Let’s take your car,” said James. “My mom is home and it would be too hard to explain to her why I was home from school, and why I was going to an old, abandoned slaughterhouse.” He mulled over the idea for a moment. “Heck, I can’t even explain it to myself.”
“Wait, you’re not sure of this? Then why are we going?” Mel’s voice was tinged with hysteria. It had been a stressful morning, and the three cups of espresso that she had consumed that morning weren’t helping with her nerves.
James could tell that he was going to have to calm her down or things could get difficult. “Look,” he started. “Don’t ask me why, but this is important. It’s true, I’m not sure exactly why, but it is.” He pressed on in the face of a sceptical look from Mel. “Okay, you will probably think I’m nuts - actually, I’d be surprised if you didn’t - but this isn’t completely strange for me. You don’t believe me about the cereal, but it’s true. Every time I don’t get my Cheerios in the morning, weird things happen. And, to top it all up, the animals have been acting weird around me lately. The squirrels are following me, I’ve been seeing cows everywhere, and I’m pretty sure Mrs. Horn’er’s cat watches me while I sleep. It’s kind of creepy.
“But all of this seems to be leading me somewhere. The dinosaur was looking for me. He didn’t ask me what my name was, he asked me if I was James. He was looking for me, and me alone. When a talking dinosaur comes to your math class window and asks for you by name, it seems pretty important to listen. There’s more going on here than you or I know. And I can’t do it alone. I need someone I can trust to support me. And that person is you. I’ve known you for longer than I’ve known anyone outside of my family, and I trust you more than I trust them.
“So please, help me.” He looked at her pleadingly, hoping he had convinced her.
A slightly raised eyebrow was the only indication she gave that she had actually heard him. Slowly a wry grin worked its way onto her face. “Be honest,” she said dryly. “You just want someone around that can protect you.”
“Works for me.” James breathed a huge sigh of relief. This really was turning into a strange day.
Forty-five minutes later the two of them sat in her 1965 Thunderbird in the parking lot of the derelict factory. “I don’t see him. Do you?” James was whispering even though there was no one around for miles.
Mel gave him a funny look. “Of course I don’t see him. Do you think a giant Tyrannosaurus Rex could hide? He’ll be kind of obvious.” She started up the car and drove around the back of the plant, getting away from the highway. A space between an abandoned tractor trailer and a wall caught her eye. “I’m pulling in here. I don’t want anything to happen to my car.”
The inside of the plant was even creepier than it had looked from the outside. They had decided to head inside and watch for the dinosaur from there. Time passed in silence as they looked around. Cleanliness did not seem to have been of great importance to the former owners of the building, as there were still parts of dead cattle sitting around. Suddenly a flash of purple caught James’ eye. He looked closer through one of the grimy windows and was surprised to see an eye peering back. “He’s here,” he said softly. “How does he do that?”
“Do what?” Her voice was right at his side, and he jumped and whirled around, frightened out of his wits.
“I was wondering how he snuck up on me like that all the time.” James leaned over and gasped for air. “I guess it’s not hard.”
They ran over to the large bay door and opened it. The dinosaur crept inside and they quickly closed the doors as it settled down as best it could in the cramped quarters. “We don’t have much time,” he began.
“I thought you said time wasn’t going to be a factor, or something like that.” James leaned against his foot, wondering how wise it was to interrupt a giant thunder lizard while standing next to its claws.
The long head full of sharp teeth swung down to look at him. “What I said was time is not going to be a factor, at least as you see it. I am surprised that you have not asked me how I came to be here in your time.”
A surprised look came over James’ face. “Actually, I hadn’t thought of it.”
Mel looked at him incredulously. “You haven’t asked him? I just assumed you already knew and weren’t telling me yet.”
James shrugged. That wasn’t how his mind worked. He had spent most of the day humming the Barney theme song. Why did this dinosaur have to be purple. It was very distracting. “So, how did you get to be here?”
“A wormhole opened up and swallowed me. I have travelled to many different times and places. During my travels it became obvious that you were the key to returning me to my time, and setting things right.”
“Oh.” That sounded way more reasonable than it should have. I must be having a mental break down, he thought to himself. All he could think of to say, though, was: “Say, fish breath. Do you have a name, or should I just call you Rexxie?”
The dinosaur looked down at him. “Call me Gordon.”
“Okay, Gordon. You were swallowed by a wormhole. You’ve travelled in time. How in the name of Mick, Keith, and the rest of the Rolling Stones do I come into play? And Gordon?”
“This is difficult to explain. Perhaps some more detail would be helpful.”
“Please.”
Gordon settled down more comfortably on his haunches. “Dinosaurs are not the crude, dumb creatures you all picture us to be. Our brains may only be the size of walnuts, but they do not operate the same way as your primitive human brains do. Our entire nervous system is a brain in a way that you cannot even imagine. That is not pertinent though, except to say that it means we can talk and understand things as well as, and often better than, humans can.
“The wormhole was a device, I believe, caused by enemies who wish to do us harm. They are causing a gradual decrease in gravity across all times and places in earth. Most people do not notice, but the larger among the dinosaurs have noticed, and we are concerned. I was looking into the source of this gravity decrease when the wormhole opened beneath my feet. I fell in and found myself in a dense jungle that was definitely not my own. Eventually I ended up here.
“As for how you come into play, that is a bit more complicated. You appear to be a chosen one. It is hard to explain unless you can feel it. Your friend seems sceptical, and that is not a surprise, but you are not. You can feel that there is something special about you. It is your destiny to lead a great victory, to stop the enemies from destroying the world and reshaping it as they see fit.
“And Gordon was my father’s name.”
James looked up at Gordon. “Did you know you squint when you talk. I didn’t even know you could squint, but when you get going, your eyes are just like slits on your face. It’s kinda neat.”
A long sigh drifted out of the dinosaur. “Are you even listening?”
“Yes, I’m listening. And you’re right. I do feel it. I thought it was just gas, but what you described seems like a better explanation.”
Suddenly, Mel broke into the conversation from where she had been silently observing. “What does the turtle have to do with any of this?”
“That, my dear girl, must remain a secret for now.” Gordon wiggled his arms in what seemed to be an apologetic manner.
“So, what do we do now?” James straightened up and started pacing around.
A chuckle came from the large creature. “Believe this or no, but I have a machine that I picked up on my travels that allows me to move from time to time. I must warn you, though. The journey is fraught with peril. I will give you one last chance to turn back. Once you enter, you will be committed.”
James glanced at Mel who merely shrugged. “Sure, why not. I’ve been bored lately anyway. Might be nice to have a change of pace.”
The dinosaur backed up, and Mel and James quickly darted to the doors and opened them so he could get out. When they all stood outside, James noticed a vehicle of some sort behind the building. As they approached it, Mel reached into his bag and pulled out the turtle. “We can’t just keep calling her ‘the turtle’. She needs a name. How about Flash?”
James rolled his eyes. “Why don’t we just ask it what it’s name is. Worked on razor tooth over here.” He took the turtle from Mel and looked it square in the eye.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” said Gordon as he opened up the ship.
James ignored him. “What is your name, little guy?”
“MynameisprinceRuddegartheQuickandFerocious-andallwilltrembleatmyfeet-didyouknowyourbagsmellsfunny-itsureisbrightouthereithinksocksareafunnything-doyouhappentohaveanyfliesaroundiamhungry….” The turtle continued to ramble on so fast that it was almost incomprehensible.
“I warned you,” came the slightly miffed voice from inside the ship.
The cow shuddered. So many of his brethren had met their end here, but it was important that he keep a watch on these folks. As the ship disappeared in time, the cow continued monitoring. He knew when they went. Now to report back so they could follow.

Now there’s a twist, a fast talking turtle. Bet I didn’t see that one coming! Where in time are they going to end up? What exactly does the turtle have to do with anything? Will James fulfill his destiny, or will he be too busy thinking about dinner to actually be of any use? What did they bring as their extra supplies? Who is the enemy? These are just a few of the many questions that I ask at the end of the chapter! Actually, come to think of it, they are all of the questions I ask at the end of the chapter. Join us in the next instalment of: The Importance of a Good Breakfast.
Same Schlakenheisermandervorsonovichenburger time, same Schlakenheisermandervorsonovichenburger place!