dreadcrumbs

Friday Fives

The top five most plausible explanations as to why I now wear a mask to bed

1. So the Night Gaunts don't recognize me when they come
2. So people will think twice about The Thing they are waking from a dark, eons-deep slumber before they make their mad attempt to do so
3. The doctor said it will scare away the cats that steal my sleep
4. I need to be ready in case The Commissioner turns on the GoatSignal
5. It's just so darn comfortable

Microstory Monday

Oliver

Jed stood at edge of the pit he and Gabe had uncovered in the basement, peering into the gloom. He saw nothing. The hole was at least 8 feet deep, but it could have been 18. He wished he'd brought a flashlight. Gabe was squatting next to the opening, staring intently into the black.
"I think there's someone down there," he whispered.
There was a pause as they both stared into the blackness.
"Right," Jed said, clearing his throat and dropping a glob of spit into the abyss. Both men heard the quick intake of breath from below, a small wet hiss they almost convinced themselves was the saliva striking bottom, until a distant raspy voice issued from the depths.
"Please sir," it whispered, "I want some more."

Microstory Monday

The Joys of Retirement

When I come home from work, Grandpa has completely shaved himself again, and is sitting in the bathtub with a pile of hair at his feet. He starts guiltily when I come in.
I stare disapprovingly, and he begins to idly play with the pile of hair. "I'm going to make a little dog out of this," he says. "Get some glue or something, and make a sculpture."
"You're not supposed to play with the razors, Grandpa." I say, picking up the discarded blades from the bathroom floor.
"I needed to be smooth! Smooth!" he shouts suddenly. "I didn't have a choice!"
"I'm calling Doctor Chelsea," I say, and leave the room.
"I am a salamander!" I hear him shout as I walk away. "A SALAMANDER!"

Friday Fives

Ham is to Cheese as:

a) Pickles are to Skin
b) Blood is to Gravy
c) Bamboo is to a Very Large Hat
d) "Burning Man" is to John Ratzenberger
e) Crazy is to Delicious

The Notloc Memo

My company uses the popular service "Webex" to conduct its meetings where attendees are in a variety of geographic locations. Usually this involves one person, acting as host, to share his or her computer desktop so that all attendees can see the document being reviewed or the presentation being shown.

The service includes a chat feature that allows attendees to send messages to the host or other attendees either privately or publicly. No one has ever used this capability since I've been at the company, and they don't even see the chat window until the meeting is over. So, when I'm bored in these meetings, especially when operating under a name that is not my own, I send messages to the host of the meeting. I've never received a response, so I can only assume that they never see what I say.

Alas, there is another related feature, "Send Transcript to Attendees" that basically e-mails a copy of all chats to everyone in the meeting. Whenever the host ends a meeting, the application asks whether they want to send such a transcript. The option defaults to "No," and I've never seen anyone do otherwise. Until today. In his rush to end the meeting and get to his next appointment, the host apparently clicked "Yes," and my silent side-monologue was mailed to everyone.

Here's a transcript of the chat in question, drizzled out over an hour and a half:

from Notloc Nala to Host: Help me
from Notloc Nala to Host: Please
from Notloc Nala to Host: Help Me
from Notloc Nala to Host: I can't feel my legs
from Notloc Nala to Host: Judy?
from Notloc Nala to Host: Are you there, Judy?
from Notloc Nala to Host: It's so dark here
from Notloc Nala to Host: Is that a rat?
from Notloc Nala to Host: I think there's a rat in here
from Notloc Nala to Host: it's eating
from Notloc Nala to Host: eating something wet
from Notloc Nala to Host: I'm scared
from Notloc Nala to Host: Who is that?
from Notloc Nala to Host: Is that you?
from Notloc Nala to Host: Wait!
from Notloc Nala to Host: you're not Todd!
from Notloc Nala to Host: Go away!
from Notloc Nala to Host: Go away!
from Notloc Nala to Host: No!
from Notloc Nala to Host: NO!
Notloc Nala disconnected.

I may actually have to retire the "Nala" identity now. What a waste of a fake passport.

Microstory Monday

Potty Trained
It doesn't make sense, but I can hear Hamilton scream. Even though I'm holding his head under water, I can hear him calling to me. It is a shrill, pathetic wail. The hopeless cry of the weak. The shriek of prey. I am nearly certain he is dead when my mother finds me in the bathroom.
"Jackie! What are you doing?" she shouts, and pulls my hands out of the toilet bowl.
"Poo." I say, nodding to Hamilton as he floats silently on the surface.
"Yes," she says, flushing the toilet. "But we don't touch it. We never touch it."
"Okay," I say, smiling as I watch Hamilton spiral into oblivion. Either way, I know he's dead.

Friday Fives

Five Beautiful Things I Hate

1. Snow
2. Gisele Bundchen
3. Living Pyres
4. Me (but not because I'm beautiful)
5. Pi