(Untitled)

[bootme]

Current plus: I managed to get into this pile of rubble some time yesterday.

Major minus: My reward for such was a nice introduction to a cellar which I swear to God was last cleaned some time in the Cambrian, full halfway of things which probably want to bite me, and the other half with things that yell at me.

I haven't had five minutes to think

Comments

[fletchfinchley]

It's a bunch of rubbishy epochs that end with -cene, you don't need them.

Your mother's maiden name is _______.

The only birthday that should matter to you is your own, which is 9 July, and mine, 16 January. Next Sunday.

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y...

Oh sod, I've forgotten that last one. Do you still remember it?

I'd thought about writing in here tonight and whinging about being back at school, but now it seems sort of silly.

[bootme]

My mother's an evolutionary biologist and studies palaeontology. Those were my ABC's. Ediacaran, Cambrian, Ordovician, Silurian...something, something, something...something that sounds like a tree...Cretaceous, Triassic, Jurassic...something...Holocene. And don't quote me on those around the Jurassic. And I might be messing something else up, as well.

And, thanks, got it.

Last one is Zed, thanks.

And, I think I've begun to realise how incredibly random realisation of how bad things are is. Three months ago, I would have whinged about school, and as soon as all this is over, I'm certain that something like a rock in my left shoe or the tag on my shirt will be enough to make me wish for the fast heat death of the universe.

[fletchfinchley]

You forgot about my birthday, didn't you?

Not that I should say anything, considering what an unmitigated disaster yours was.

I think I'll shut my gob now.

As bad as things get, death is not a preferrable option - even if it looks as though that's where we're all heading.

And it is.

What is he making you do? Or is that classified Ministry information?

Is he really making you live in the cellar?

[bootme]

Actually, didn't, thanks. I don't think. Problem's elsewhere. It's August now, right?

And I didn't say my death. I said the compression of the universe into a white hot point. Mild difference.

And not live, no. I have to clean the cellar. I think I found miniatures of his old pet Anomalocaris behind a first edition copy of that international best seller, the Dead Sea Scrolls, and more things that make noise than I wish to think about.

[fletchfinchley]

Don't be cute. It doesn't suit you at all.

I didn't mean your death either, Mr Narcissist, I meant the deaths of us all. Which would happen if the universe compressed into a white hot point. No difference. So there.

Also see above re: Being cute.

All right, so you're cleaning the cellar as your punishment...my word, you really are grounded, aren't you?

Do you have a bed to sleep in then? Food to eat? Warm clothes?

[bootme]

Right, then. I shall definitely note that.

And my option allows the rebirth of the universe entire, at least. Perhaps with mildly different laws of physics and more creatures that look like giant ants, but that's what comes with the territory.

And so right, once more. I'm rather certain it's actually an Opabinia, anyway.

Last time I was grounded all I had to move around were massive, unopened boxes of out-of-date textbooks. And those don't bite or scream their names, they only caused me to gain a newfound hatred for Douglas Futuyama.

And yes, yes, and moderately yes in that I have my clothes.

[fletchfinchley]

I don't like ants.

[bootme]

You'd likely like them even less after you were sent to work in the sugar mines.

And, anyway. Would you prefer amoebae? Or humanoid chimpanzees?

[fletchfinchley]

I do like sugar.

I do not like Charlton Heston.

I have no opinion on amoebae.

[bootme]

You likely would not be allowed to take any from your ant masters, you know.

Heston's the only one who can save us from the apes, you know.

And that just proves that the amoebae will be the ones to bring us all down unto some form of...what in the seven Hells would an amoeba want, anyway?

On second thought, I don't want to consider that one.

[fletchfinchley]

What my ant masters don't know won't hurt them.

What would any amoeba want besides more cells and actual pods instead of pseudopods?

Do you have any idea how long you're going to be stuck with that mad old bastard?

[bootme]

They'll be able to smell it on your breath. I think ants are quite good at that.

And I seem to recall reading some story in my mispent youth about giant heat-seeking amoebae who fell to Earth and began draining the lifeforce out of the populace. It was either a story or a symbolic nightmare I had right before elections one year. I'm not sure.

And I don't know. Not really.

[fletchfinchley]

Ah, but isn't my breath naturally sweet and fragrant? How would they know?

They can't make you stay there forever, can they?

[bootme]

Ants are very intelligent and don't know what your breath should smell like.

And, no, I don't think so. Complete cards on the table, I figure I'm here until I stop being dangerous or I stop being useful, whichever comes first.

[fletchfinchley]

Oh.

[bootme]

The idea of ants smelling your breath leaves you that out of sorts?