1003 words of Lucian and Shirly
“Hey, guess what?”
“Can we not play the guessing games, Shirly? Please?”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve better things to do with my time, and I’d like to think that you do, to.”
“Fine. So what are you doing?”
“Programming.”
“I knew that. You’re always programming.”
“Then why did you bother asking?”
“Sometimes I’ve nothing better to do with my time.”
“Is that supposed to be a joke?”
“Not really. I’m bored.”
“Oh, is that why you’re in here bothering me?”
“Pretty much.”
“Isn’t there some governmental conspiracy you can root out, or something?”
“I can’t spend all my time doing that.”
“Funny, I thought that’s what you did do.”
“Nope. I have to save some of it for alien abductions, secret societies (usually they’re at the root of the government conspiracies, though, so I can see where you’d get confused), and vampires. Although the vampires often have secret societies and want to take over the government! Wait, weren’t you going to tell me about the vampire you worked for?”
“No, I was not.”
“Well, that’s no fun. I’ve an article on flesh-eating sugar slugs that I’m working on, too.”
“Ew. What even is a sugar slug, or would I be happier not knowing?”
“Well, you know what a slug is, right?”
“I can see I’m going to regret that question. No, no, don’t bother shutting up for my benefit, I’m not getting any work done anyway.”
“So in the wild sugar plantations of Thailand, they’re absolutely plagued by these slugs. They’re about five inches long, and maybe half an inch wide, and they’re banded in red and black and yellow.”
“I think you’re thinking of coral snakes. They’re poisonous.”
“I can tell the difference between snakes and slugs, thank you, Lucian. Snakes have scales, and they’re bigger, except for that awesome teeny one they found on some rainforest island somewhere, I’d find you the link if you’d let me use the computer.”
“You’re not touching the computer.”
“I knew that, but it was worth a try, really. How do you expect me to keep up on the latest theories if you don’t let me on the internet?”
“There’s a public library three blocks away, and an internet café on the corner. Leave my computer alone.”
“Fine, fine. So anyway, in the wild sugar plantations of Thailand there are these slugs, which are not coral snakes, and they slither-”
“I told you they were snakes.”
“They slither on their slime trails, which snakes do not have, unless you have some peculiar kind of snake I’ve never heard of off in computer programmer land, which is entirely possible because I’m sure I don’t know what you do all day, all over the sugar cane. And basically they’re a nuisance, because no one wants to eat sugar with slug slime all over it, and I think the people in Thailand call them something uncomplimentary (in their language, of course, but I don’t know what the word is because I don’t speak Thai), but all the scientific types just came and saw that the slugs were all over the sugar cane, so they named them sugar slugs.”
“Do they even have sugar cane-wild sugar cane plantations, isn’t that an oxymoron?-in Thailand?”
“Of course they do, I read it on the internet!”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“And the really horrible thing is, the recent solar flares caused a freak mutation in a significant percentage of the sugar slugs (I think it was four point three seven percent, but I could be wrong), and they’ve grown fangs and developed a taste for human flesh!”
“Um . . . are you sure you’re not thinking about zombies, or vampires, or something?”
“No! I’m telling you about the flesh-eating sugar slugs, which you asked me about, so quit interrupting!”
“I really do think I was happier not knowing.”
“Then you shouldn’t have asked.”
“Fine, fine. What happened to the four point three seven percent of the sugar slugs that were freakishly mutated by solar flares and grew fangs and developed a taste for human flesh?”
“They’re sneaking onto cruise ships and invading the haunts of high fashion! The haute couture of Spain is already overrun-Paris must be next, although that suggests that the sugar slugs have some idea where to find high fashion, which some people might think unlikely.”
“But not you.”
“Of course not, one has to keep an open mind with these things. Not too open, though, or the government’ll get you with their mind control devices.”
“Of course. Remind me where I put my tin foil hat again.”
“No, silly, that’s just an old superstition. Studies show that tin foil acts as a conductor for the mind control rays and actually just makes matters worse. You want some sort of ceramic helmet, or maybe radiation shielding. But I don’t think you need to worry so much. You work for them, don’t you?”
“I’d think that’d give them that much more incentive to control my brain.”
“No, no, they’ve got you already. It’s the ones that don’t listen they need to draw in. Where we were rebels they want sheep! Sheep I tell you!”
“Um . . . a little less with the denunciation? And sheep? Do you have some theory involving the government and a monopoly of the wool industry?”
“There was something like that on the internet a few days ago, yeah. It might just have been some kid who got a bit confused with his metaphors, though.”
“That might be a reason not to steal them? Just maybe?”
“But if there is a plot to take over the wool industry, just think how much more money they could make if they turned us all into sheep!”
“I somehow think they’d make less money in that case, if only because everyone would be a sheep. And I don’t know of any sheep who spend money on wool. This isn’t a highly likely scenario, is it, Shirly?”
“Maybe not. Are you trying to be unhelpful?”
“Can we not play the guessing games, Shirly? Please?”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve better things to do with my time, and I’d like to think that you do, to.”
“Fine. So what are you doing?”
“Programming.”
“I knew that. You’re always programming.”
“Then why did you bother asking?”
“Sometimes I’ve nothing better to do with my time.”
“Is that supposed to be a joke?”
“Not really. I’m bored.”
“Oh, is that why you’re in here bothering me?”
“Pretty much.”
“Isn’t there some governmental conspiracy you can root out, or something?”
“I can’t spend all my time doing that.”
“Funny, I thought that’s what you did do.”
“Nope. I have to save some of it for alien abductions, secret societies (usually they’re at the root of the government conspiracies, though, so I can see where you’d get confused), and vampires. Although the vampires often have secret societies and want to take over the government! Wait, weren’t you going to tell me about the vampire you worked for?”
“No, I was not.”
“Well, that’s no fun. I’ve an article on flesh-eating sugar slugs that I’m working on, too.”
“Ew. What even is a sugar slug, or would I be happier not knowing?”
“Well, you know what a slug is, right?”
“I can see I’m going to regret that question. No, no, don’t bother shutting up for my benefit, I’m not getting any work done anyway.”
“So in the wild sugar plantations of Thailand, they’re absolutely plagued by these slugs. They’re about five inches long, and maybe half an inch wide, and they’re banded in red and black and yellow.”
“I think you’re thinking of coral snakes. They’re poisonous.”
“I can tell the difference between snakes and slugs, thank you, Lucian. Snakes have scales, and they’re bigger, except for that awesome teeny one they found on some rainforest island somewhere, I’d find you the link if you’d let me use the computer.”
“You’re not touching the computer.”
“I knew that, but it was worth a try, really. How do you expect me to keep up on the latest theories if you don’t let me on the internet?”
“There’s a public library three blocks away, and an internet café on the corner. Leave my computer alone.”
“Fine, fine. So anyway, in the wild sugar plantations of Thailand there are these slugs, which are not coral snakes, and they slither-”
“I told you they were snakes.”
“They slither on their slime trails, which snakes do not have, unless you have some peculiar kind of snake I’ve never heard of off in computer programmer land, which is entirely possible because I’m sure I don’t know what you do all day, all over the sugar cane. And basically they’re a nuisance, because no one wants to eat sugar with slug slime all over it, and I think the people in Thailand call them something uncomplimentary (in their language, of course, but I don’t know what the word is because I don’t speak Thai), but all the scientific types just came and saw that the slugs were all over the sugar cane, so they named them sugar slugs.”
“Do they even have sugar cane-wild sugar cane plantations, isn’t that an oxymoron?-in Thailand?”
“Of course they do, I read it on the internet!”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“And the really horrible thing is, the recent solar flares caused a freak mutation in a significant percentage of the sugar slugs (I think it was four point three seven percent, but I could be wrong), and they’ve grown fangs and developed a taste for human flesh!”
“Um . . . are you sure you’re not thinking about zombies, or vampires, or something?”
“No! I’m telling you about the flesh-eating sugar slugs, which you asked me about, so quit interrupting!”
“I really do think I was happier not knowing.”
“Then you shouldn’t have asked.”
“Fine, fine. What happened to the four point three seven percent of the sugar slugs that were freakishly mutated by solar flares and grew fangs and developed a taste for human flesh?”
“They’re sneaking onto cruise ships and invading the haunts of high fashion! The haute couture of Spain is already overrun-Paris must be next, although that suggests that the sugar slugs have some idea where to find high fashion, which some people might think unlikely.”
“But not you.”
“Of course not, one has to keep an open mind with these things. Not too open, though, or the government’ll get you with their mind control devices.”
“Of course. Remind me where I put my tin foil hat again.”
“No, silly, that’s just an old superstition. Studies show that tin foil acts as a conductor for the mind control rays and actually just makes matters worse. You want some sort of ceramic helmet, or maybe radiation shielding. But I don’t think you need to worry so much. You work for them, don’t you?”
“I’d think that’d give them that much more incentive to control my brain.”
“No, no, they’ve got you already. It’s the ones that don’t listen they need to draw in. Where we were rebels they want sheep! Sheep I tell you!”
“Um . . . a little less with the denunciation? And sheep? Do you have some theory involving the government and a monopoly of the wool industry?”
“There was something like that on the internet a few days ago, yeah. It might just have been some kid who got a bit confused with his metaphors, though.”
“That might be a reason not to steal them? Just maybe?”
“But if there is a plot to take over the wool industry, just think how much more money they could make if they turned us all into sheep!”
“I somehow think they’d make less money in that case, if only because everyone would be a sheep. And I don’t know of any sheep who spend money on wool. This isn’t a highly likely scenario, is it, Shirly?”
“Maybe not. Are you trying to be unhelpful?”