Book promo
*Sarah Update: The promo post is late, because I forgot my implements to log into the promotion email. While I could have done it with friends’ and relatives’ books, it’s not what I was sent, and someone might have sent me something that needs prompt attention. So I decided to postpone till today.
Also, just as a “oh, yeah” I’m either sick again,or more likely have a wicked case of upper respiratory allergies. More likely, because every time I go to Kansas City and stay overnight I get all clogged up. It’s either the hotel we use, or something in the air, and honestly could be both. Anyway, the anti-allergy meds make me sleepy and dopey, so if you fail to get an answer to something, poke again. -SAH*
If you wish to send us books for next week’s promo, please email to bookpimping at outlook dot com. If you feel a need to re-promo the same book do so no more than once every six months (unless you’re me or my relative. Deal.) One book per author per week. Amazon links only. Oh, yeah, by clicking through and buying (anything, actually) through one of the links below, you will at no cost to you be giving a portion of your purchase to support ATH through our associates number. A COMMISSION IS EARNED FROM EACH PURCHASE.
*Note that I haven’t read most of these books (my reading is eclectic and “craving led”,) and apply the usual cautions to buying. – SAH*
FROM KAREN MYERS: The Chained Adept: A Lost Wizard’s Tale
MEET A POWERFUL WIZARD WITH UNANSWERED QUESTIONS–AND AN UNBREAKABLE CHAIN AROUND HER NECK.
Have you ever wondered how you might rise to a dangerous situation and become the hero that was needed?
The wizard Penrys has barely gained her footing in the country where she was found three years ago, chained around the neck and wiped of all knowledge. And now, an ill-planned experiment has sent her a quarter of the way around her world.
One magic working has called to another and landed Penrys in the middle of an ugly war between neighboring countries, half a world away.
No one has any reason to trust her amid rumors of wizards where they don’t belong. And she fears to let them know just what she can do — especially since she can’t explain herself to them and she doesn’t know everything about herself either.
Penrys has her own problems, and she doesn’t have any place in this conflict. But they need her, whether they realize it or not. And so she’s determined to try and lend a hand, if she can. Whatever it takes.
And once she discovers there’s another chained adept, even stronger than she is, she’s hooked. Friend or foe, she has questions for him — oh, yes, she does.
All she wants is a firm foundation for the rest of her life, with a side helping of retribution, and if she has to fix things along the way, well, so be it.
The Chained Adept is the first book of the series.
FROM RICHARD F. WEYAND: Eve of War (Agency)
SOMEONE’S TRYING TO START A WAR
The once-friendly Republic of Villacqua and Kingdom of Wilbourne are stumbling toward war. But why?
The Association of Planets’ intelligence agency is concerned. The Agency is a myth, of course. The government denies it exists. Everyone knows it’s not real.
The Agency sends their top operative, Bert Mangum, to head off the war. His mission: Find out who’s causing it and stop them. Permanently.
Mangum and his alien sidekick Sam ally with Gloria Dent, of Gaston’s Bureau of Intelligence and Espionage, to find and stop the war instigator.
But can even they succeed against their wily adversary?
FROM CAROLINE FURLONG: The Guardian Cycle, Vol.1: In Dreams and Other Stories.
A man whose debts must be paid by vengeance. A woman desperate to save her husband. A grieving father finding a young enemy soldier on his veritable doorstep…
These fantasy and soft sci-fi stories wonder whether or not heroes need families. Are we not told that families slow the hero down? Is it not typically implied that they get in the way of the adventure? Are they a burden, or truly the greatest strength from which the hero and those he loves can draw?
Six tales in this collection center on family, faith, and self-sacrificing love as men and women fight for the ones whom they hold most dear. Whether the enemy is inner turmoil, a nightmare, or a demon really does not matter. If the threat seeks to harm a member of the family, it is going to pay dearly.
FROM MACKEY CHANDLER: Let Us Tell You Again.
The continuing story of April, Jeff, and Heather after they conspire to rebel against North America and their efforts to find friends and a safe haven in the stars. Continuing to close the time gap to the later Family Law series of books.
Heather and her peers impose a ban on armed ships beyond L1 in the Solar System and a prohibition for explorer ships going interstellar heavily armed. There are continuing stories of future characters still stuck on Earth.
Heather has a lot of help from her friends but it isn’t easy being the queen.
FROM ROBERT A. HOYT: Cat’s Paw (King of cats Book 1)
What if the doom of the universe or its salvation didn’t depend on humans?
What if cats were far more than we imagine?
What if—
But enough of this: At the end of the universe there is a Mountain. Every thousand years, a bird flies to strop its beak on that mountain. When the mountain is worn to nothing the universe ends.
The mountain is down to a few grains of sand.
The only hope of survival for the entire universe rests in the grubby paws of an alcoholic alley cat, a fluffy cat with not much brainand a bookish cat who thinks Guinevere is a male hero’s name.
The universe might have run out of luck.
Or not.
FROM DAVID COLLINS: Resurrection Crystal
The “remembrance” project was an ambitious space colonization project. In place of keeping a few humans alive for the tens or hundreds of years for space travel, they could just send a load of thousands of memory crystals, loaded with the essence of doner humans. It would also include instructions on how to ingest them. The locals would then gain human memories and skills. It eliminated the need to spend 99% of the spacecraft volume on life support, food, oxygen, waste processing, and it eliminated all of the issues with biological compatibility on alien worlds.
Dozens of small spacecraft were sent out, each with over one-thousand memory crystals, and without any wasteful life support overhead. The idea was that some of the seeder ships would land where the locals could find the crystals. If they landed on a place with only animals, the crystals would stay inert. They only triggered if the host was intelligent enough to sustain a supplemental human consciousness.
Jake Taylor was a student at the University of Maine. One day, when he didn’t have any classes, he stumbled across a booth set up for “brain scans”, Earn while you sleep. It looked like easy money, he signed up for the full scan, it would require sleeping in a booth for two days, but he would wake up thousands of dollars richer. It should be easy money…
The next thing he knows, he is no longer human, and the new world he finds himself in is a very dangerous place. So dangerous, that the former occupant of the body he finds himself in had just died from a snake bite.
He is informed that the body he now finds himself in was wearing a crystal. He is now one of “the resurrected.” Some of those that died while wearing the strange crystals have their bodies healed, but their memories were replaced by something in the crystal.
On the plus side, he now finds himself in what looks like a martial artist’s body, one that used to take a lot of steroids. If he can just make it out of this damn valley alive…
FROM CHRISTOPHER WOERNER: 202210 Fiscal Year Zero
This is a collection of the last several pamphlets I’ve published as I do every month. The work is edited and polished, with various news headlines in-between each article. We’re getting closer to complete collapse, that’s the way our tyrants want it. This is what I have to offer in resistance, hopefully inspiring you to do the same. We need to fight back before it’s too late.
FROM LAURA MONTGOMERY: His Terrible Stall: A Science Fiction Lost Colony Adventure
On a lost and stranded colony world, with his brother’s family at risk, Peter Dawe will do what he must to protect them.
A lost starship’s settlers turn one valley on an alien planet into a terraformed replica of Earth. The rest of the planet offers only hardship and madness. Despite the oasis First Landing provides, the ship’s crew fled decades earlier with their fabricators, spacecraft, and knowledge when those controlling the valley threatened their freedoms.
The ship’s crew founded a separate colony on the southern plains. From there they spied on their former passengers, always fearful that the richer valley would come to take what they had. Even after a generation, the loathing persists.
A man in exile—
Peter Dawe faces an arid existence in a brother’s secret northern outpost. His work there has meaning and purpose, but when asked to journey to the southern settlement to help recover stolen weapons his brother needs, Peter has to defeat his own belief he shouldn’t expect too much from life.
A brother’s quest—
Determined to find the missing rifles, Peter works his way through supposed friends and allies to catch the real thieves. But can he overcome the prior generation’s ruthless plans to stop him when his own life hangs in the balance?
His Terrible Stall is the fifth book in the gripping science fiction colonization series Martha’s Sons. If you like driven heroes and strange worlds, you’ll want to throw yourself into this one.
Pick it up now to join the hunt!
FROM CELIA HAYES AND JEANNE HAYDEN: Luna City X
Welcome to Luna City, Karnes County, Texas … Population 2,457, give or take! Fugitive former celebrity chef Richard Astor-Hall has decided to make some serious changes to his life … and propose to his girlfriend, Kate Heisel. But the path of true love does not run smooth. Meanwhile, Jess and Joe Vaughn face impending childbirth, and Xavier Gunnison-Penn, the world’s most unsuccessful professional treasure-hunter marries his true love and sets off a family row, on the way to search for another treasure. Another chapter in the doings of those residents of Luna City, in this tenth visit to the most perfect small town in Texas.
FROM C. CHANCY: Count Taka and the Vampire Brides
Welcome, traveler, to wild Tramontana!
Here you will find snowclad mountains, roaring rivers, vast caves perhaps never seen before by mortal man! Here the strong Horses of Night roam the mountainsides – perhaps you can tame one to ride with your charms. Here the shepherds call to the long-fleeced sheep, the sheep to their sweet lambs – and you can find true telemea, the softest and freshest of cheese, in the gift shop, herb-flavored, a dozen special varieties-
Eh? You’re not here for the gift shop?
Ah, the cameras, of course! Forgive me, most of the photographers we see head straight for the ski lifts. Or the whitewater. Yet there’s so much more to Tramontana! The healthy farmers bringing in the hay, the soaring churches, the wild gypsy dancers – you must dance with the gypsies – and Raven Castle! Oh, there’s a place of history… and mystery.
It held the line against the Turks, they say, and the ancient lords rooted out all manner of uncanny beings… or bargained with them. Have you heard the rumors? That Count Herodes has ruled from that castle for over a hundred years? True, I tell you, all true!
…Monsters don’t exist, eh? Well, well, take your photographs, and we’ll see!
But you must visit the castle. The Blood Moon is coming, yes, and they say that’s when vampire lords can take a Bride! Other years have come and gone with no new lady in the castle, but this year… oh, you should hear Mistral sing the omens! A lass with your modesty and charms-
What’s that? Ah, temper, temper; location shots, yes, I see. Which way to the castle… there are maps in the gift shop, and tour schedules – but we can do better than that! Why, we’ll escort you there ourselves, no trouble at all, I insist-
Ooof. That’s a feisty one! Well, she’s packed off now. The other Brides should have some interesting weeks….
Mihail? What do you mean, Kae’s not a girl’s name?
…Oops.
(Vampire with annoying relatives meets photographer with terrifying relatives. Hilarity Ensues.)
Vignettes by Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike.
So what’s a vignette? You might know them as flash fiction, or even just sketches. We will provide a prompt each Sunday that you can use directly (including it in your work) or just as an inspiration. You, in turn, will write about 50 words (yes, we are going for short shorts! Not even a Drabble 100 words, just half that!). Then post it! For an additional challenge, you can aim to make it exactly 50 words, if you like.
We recommend that if you have an original vignette, you post that as a new reply. If you are commenting on someone’s vignette, then post that as a reply to the vignette. Comments — this is writing practice, so comments should be aimed at helping someone be a better writer, not at crushing them. And since these are likely to be drafts, don’t jump up and down too hard on typos and grammar.
If you have questions, feel free to ask.
Your writing prompt this week is: FUNNY.
According To Hoyt 
Many thanks for the promo, Sarah!
Anytime, sis.
“Hey Slippery, what do you think about that Rogue who called himself Jester”?
“He’s a fool. He thinks that his pranks are funny but they’re not. He thinks that he’s an especially good criminal, but his pranks end up with him getting caught. Worse, his pranks paint a label on his crimes. You agents “know” that I’ve committed hundreds of successful crimes but can’t prove that I actually committing any crimes. Jester has been successfully convicted of dozens of crimes.”
“I see your point.”
“About the only thing “good” I can say about Jester is that nobody (besides himself) has been hurt by his pranks.”
Possibly the least nuanced prompt we’ve seen in years. I suppose I ought to go think up a joke now…
I blame the random word generator.
Thanks very much for the promotion! 😀
Sarah,
You asked me to use this email thread to request your private email so I could send you a link to my song “Spirit Of Liberty”.
My email is Craig.Franklin.FireFlyDSP@gmail.com
Cordially,
Craig Franklin
PS I’m the person who posted a comment about “Imposter Syndrome” and its possible relationship to leftism on campus and after.
Sent from my iPhone
>
No. I actually didn’t. And please remove that email from the comment, unless you want to have it become a spam trap due to bots.
I REQUESTED YOU TO USE THE EMAIL IN THE PROMO POST: If you wish to send us books for next week’s promo, please email to bookpimping at outlook dot com.
That, from the top of the promo post.
SIGH. READING COMPREHENSION. Seriously.
“Cyril, did you see? Our new clown: he’s stolen the registered makeup of FunnyTheClown!”
“That’s as may be, Jorge – but at least he makes the crowd laugh. By good chance, we have a funny phony Funny.”
“I don’t think we should have eaten that.”
“Why not? It didn’t seem too bad when we scraped it off the pavement and cooked it up.”
“Yeah, but now my stomach is feeling funny.”
“Himalayan possum is not for the weak of stomach.”
A funny thing happened to me on the way to the forum…
“You’re joking.”
“Naw, if I was joking, I’d say, Two cannibals are eating a clown and one of ’em says, ‘Does this guy taste funny to you?’ So I’m not joking.”
Constantia gazed across the Grand Assembly at the gathered gods, demons, and higher beings squabbling over the fresh corpse of a planet. It had been a rather pretty world. Green and blue amidst a blanket of stars, peopled by a hard working, innovative race. They’d grown and expanded, founding cities and nations, discovering all the little secrets of science and magic that the world’s creator had placed there for their chosen people.
Now, after its third planetary war, it was a yellowish brown world with sickly green oceans and nearly poisonous air. The people were dead or enslaved. The new masters of the planet were gearing up for the conflict that they knew was coming.
A confederation of greater demonkin had won the right to attempt an invasion. Win or lose, the destruction visited would aid the demon lords.
The goddess Constantia herself had no followers left on the planet. Her last temple had fallen in defense of the innocent, her priests and champions sacrificing themselves to defend those lives in the last war. She had no pawns or pieces to play in the coming conflict.
But there was no fatalism or self pity to be found in her heart as she spied the Primordial making his rounds amidst the demonic players at the dealer’s table. Constantia was an old goddess. She’d seen countless godlings and demonkin rise and fall in the ages since she’d first risen.
To her, the sight of Primordial Chaos stalking the Grand Assembly smelled of opportunity.
But it would not do to act hastily. Her breath did not quicken or her eyes glitter, as a mortal woman’s might, in anticipation. Constantia remained calm and composed to even divine senses.
She watched as the Primordial engaged with Elagar, one of the newer infernal powers. The demonkin prince puffed up his large chest and snorted sulfurous fumes as he spoke with the ancient being. His inexperience showed in the widening of the eyes and the slight twitching of his spiked tail.
The goddess made a mental mark on her assessment of the younger Prince of the Dark. Powerful, her had to be to get this far. But mentally weak. The other demonkin would use that weakness to cut him off at the knees later on when the victors squabbled over the spoils.
She allowed her attention to wander over the others in the invader’s alliance. Many were cut of the same mold. All power, no brains. A culling? The demons did that every now and again. Put the weaker ones in a position where they would either gain enough experience and wisdom to become useful or wither and die.
But no, there were at least three dangerously intelligent ones. Meat shields then. The victors of the last planetary war were no fools. They might be slightly weakened, but they had the home field advantage this time. Countless mortals in the invading waves would take their last breaths on the blood soaked soil of the world below.
“Woolgathering is no fit occupation for a goddess.”
“And cheap parlor tricks should be beneath a Primordial,” she returned.
Chaos was still present with the invaders, chatting up yet another brainless Prince of the Dark. And yet he was also invisibly here with her at the same time. The act of splitting one’s presence wasn’t the issue. The popping up while invisible was a trick that many young mages played on each other while they learned their craft.
“And yet here you are,” the Primordial said, shimmering into view at her left elbow.
“Here I am. Without a pawn or champion to play in the coming conflict. Which leads me to question just what it is that brings a being such as yourself to my humble corner.”
“You know why I am here.”
“I do.”
“So what do you say?”
The Primordial tilted its feline looking head to the side. Flickering flames danced in his eyes. If one stared at them too long, the flames started taking familiar shapes. Rumor had it that these were reflections of what might have been, or what could come in the future for those that took the time to look. The fact that those that did later went insane was also rumored, and this latter one Constantia believed.
She looked away.
“You will have to make your offer explicit, else I cannot give you the answer you seek.”
“Do you truly not trust me? I am hurt,” he said, his eyes growing larger and his face drooping in mock feline sadness.
“Not even a little bit.”
The Primordial returned to an eager expression, dropping the act in an instant.
“I offer to you an opportunity to get back in this part of the game. Not just one, but nine of the fine young demonkin below have taken up my offer! Nine, can it be believed? What good fortune we have this day!”
The elder being laughed. It was a loud, full bodied laugh of mirth completely free of malice. Not even goddesses were completely immune to such free, innocent joy. Constantia’s well schooled face might have twitched upward for a brief instant if her control weren’t so utterly complete. Her face only showed the world what she wanted it to, no more and no less.
“But I can see that you are in no mood for simple pleasures Lady Constantia. Let me make clear my offer.
“The Blackened Horde have agreed- nine times, no less!- to accept a bit of Chaos into their battle plan in exchange for the possibility of a greater chance of success.”
The goddess raised one perfectly formed eyebrow minutely in response.
“Yes, indeed! An entire ten percent is mine to play with. And what is mine, I share! So what I offer you is much the same. Of that ten percent, I may include anything I like. Even rival gods! But alas, none have taken up my offer. Unless-”
“Denied.”
“And I had so hoped! But you champions, your followers-”
“Also no. I am well aware of your tricks, Primordial.”
“Ah well, so it goes. That is, unless…”
The catlike higher being trailed off, his flickering eyes gazing off into the distance. Constantia could see brief flickers in the corners of her eyes. Those brief flickers might have been other incarnations of Primordial Chaos. They hovered closed to at least a dozen other gods and demons.
And they might have been nothing more than illusion. There was no way to tell with a Primordial.
“Unless, that is, you would care to gamble for it?”
“What, precisely, is the ‘it’ you are proposing we shall gamble for?”
He tapped his chin slowly, as if in serious contemplation.
“A few spots in the waves.”
“A few guaranteed spots in the waves.”
“That would mean less available spots.”
“Beings of my choice.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“A being from a list of my choices.”
“The wager is still a bit light…” The Primordial wheedled.
“A being from a list of my choice, taken from the Sea of Soul.”
“Ah, an incarnation? That could work. Make it a list of your choice and a list of mine, with the loser of the wager rolling the dice. And a single incarnation, no hive minds, no sentient colonies or the like.”
“I believe we have a deal, Primordial.”
The catlike being smiled and pulled out a singularly unique deck of cards. Constantia’s composure nearly faltered at the sight of the Fate Cards being used like this.
“Third party shuffle and cut?” he asked.
She nodded. Affecting something as simple as cutting a deck of cards was entirely too simple for divine beings to manipulate themselves. The third party rule eliminated such interference when the third party in question was something that neither could influence. That third party was often one of the neutral powers.
A black portal opened between the two, barely larger than the deck of cards itself. A pair of tentacles snaked out, snatching up the deck.
“High or low?”
“Low.”
The deck came back out with the top card face up. The six of swords appeared, reversed.
“It looks like you have won,” Primordial Chaos said in a mournful sounding tone.
Constantia did not reply.
“But I must admit, well, that I kind of cheated.”
“Cheated? One cannot cheat the neutrals,” she replied.
“Well, that too,” the catlike being laughed as he disappeared once again, the dice appearing on a small wooden table beside her.
Constantia quickly glanced at her list. One of the names shimmered briefly before the letters reformed into a different name. A name she had not picked. A name she did not know. The dice, predictably, matched the name perfectly.
It was a true name, as were all her other picks. That meant she could find it in the Sea of Soul.
A goddess diving into the Sea of Soul has nothing to fear from those waters and indeed she swiftly approacher her quarry. The soul was just about to enter the Sea when a black cat seemed to snatch it up and leap away, its spiritual essence not even dampened, off to glory or doom in the invasion.
“I think you’ll like this one. Give him a chance, Constance. He might just surprise you. Oh, and you might want to check back on your newest pawn when you get a moment.”
Spectral laughter seemed to chase Constantia as she hurriedly examined the information that her divine interface had just updated.
“He’s going to be a… plant? How in heaven is a plant going to even be able to participate in an invasion?”
“You never specified what body he would be incarnated into, now did you oh goddess?”
The laughter of Chaos grew only louder as the goddess fumed, floating above the Sea of Soul and glaring up at the uncaring sky.
So, I guess this means that you are doing one of /those/?
Any notion of when you might be putting part of it up?
Er. That will probably be farther in the future. If at all. That’s more or less just a whimsy of a thought right now. What if, instead of the standard isekai, goody two shoes, or boring harem, the protag was one of the invaders? What if the good guys already lost and the bad guys were just fighting over the scraps? What if, in order to “win,” the protag had to not only kill off two entire planet’s worth of enemies, but build a civilization strong enough to stand against the NEXT foes?
And what if he had to do all that starting off as a single seedling plant?
As it stands, I’d still like to get Dr Z’s first long arc finished up before dabbling too much. This is just a pasticcio of stuff like The Land, Goblin Slayer, and the Ten Realms.
As of now, I have next to zero time for writing in the near future. The above hasn’t even got a system (probably a long arc progression, physics/biology based with a bit of magic). Dr Z has part of another chapter and a few scenes plotted out but there just hasn’t been any time.
Anyways, litRPG/gamelit is a genre I’ve been reading for some time now, but that one is one of a couple or three stories that are possibilities for the future.
Count Taka is hilarious. 😀
I totally agree with Foxfier. I’ve read ‘Count Taka and the Vampire Brides’ twice now and plan to read it again, because there is also wisdom under the hilarity. Not to mention tentacles? 😉
How her mother would laugh at three little girls sitting down to tea as if they were great ladies and all grown-up.
We aren’t little, Ava thought, and bit the tart. Delia started with pour the tea, and minutes later, they sat with their cups, ready to drink and talk.
We know there are Ava and Delia.
What is the name of the third girl, the tart that Ava bit?
Reynardette looked about and concluded she would have to risk that and do the search. How Drusilla would laugh and laugh if she realized that Reynardette’s elegant plan to retrieve the fan had ended with her putting it out of her grasp.
Then she would rage at not having it.
I sense nastiness afoot…
Prudent of you.
One stable boy muttered that one of them would feed his horse to a starving wolf, another that the wolf was less ravenous than the other boy, and they all laughed.
Liam rode from the castle. A wolf’s aid might indeed get him the apple, if he were prudent enough.
No roof but the sky, no candle but the sun, she walked across the way. A mere knight, to marry some great a noble’s daughter, needed to marry her at the cathedral.
He waited there.
The crowd cracked ribald jokes. At least she thought they were meant to be funny.
“Then the preacher said, ‘Yeah, but NOT IN MY PANTS!’” Nigel Slim-Howland could barely keep a straight face. Jenkins, however, remained impassive.
“That was a joke,” said Nigel.
“Indeed, sir. My humor module detected it.”
“You could at least laugh.”
“Very well, sir,” said Jenkins, emitting a sitcom laugh track.
Men were on the road. Marcus hesitated, seeing them swagger up to the tower as a drunkard swaggered up to a man for a fight.
With a wizard? he thought.
One said something, and the others all laughed.
Master Stephanos appeared at the back door. “Flee! This is no jest!”
Looking back, Nigel thought about how Lily, his childhood companion, would giggle at the most inopportune times: when he fell, when he became tongue-tied recited poetry, or when he was being scolded. Mummy said these were programming issues that would be sorted, but Nigel found Lily’s idiosyncrasies endearing even so.
“This is not a prank. I know you read a lot of stories in which the hero’s buddies free him from unfair parental figures to great hilarity, but this is real life, with real consequences.” Kate glowered at the teenagers sitting in awkward silence: her own sons and several of their cousins. “If you’d even begun to act upon this harebrained scheme of yours, we would’ve been facing an international incident.”
“But we can’t just sit here and watch, not when her parents are systematically cutting off every form of contact with us.” Unsurprising that Misha Gruzinsky would be the one to raise the objection, considering his genetic origins and his history with the girl.
“That may be. However, there is no evidence that she is being abused, physically or emotionally, and she has plenty of opportunity to make friends in her face-to-face community.” Although Kate considered her sister’s approach wrong-headed, she wasn’t going to say so now. “Her parents have decided they want her to grow up American, with no confusion about what is her country and her culture. Yes, I know she’s not happy about that, but that determination is her parents’ to make, not hers and certainly not yours.”
“Stop here!” Ned scrambled up and grabbed his arm. “They could see us from the road if we go on.”
Will paused, and felt exhaustion hit him. He panted for breath as Nell staggered up and sat on the nearest rock.
It took her a minute to say, “They laughed.”
Yes, I’m being tired and picky, but Mr. Collins needs to spell, “donor,” correctly. It looks like an interesting concept (it makes me queasy, but it’s interesting) but the typo made me wonder how many errors the book itself might have.
I was thinking of doner kebab. Mmmm, doner kebab.
Thanks for the promo! And look after yourself.
Hmm, something funny….
Oo. I found something. Might make good inspiration for space hijinks!
“It ended up tasting kinda like a very mild, sweet white wine, with a faint but unmistakable aftertaste of marshmallow.”
:blinks:
That… is awesome, and terrifying.
Indeed. Solemn nod.
Ohhhhh! That’s what the carnauba wax is for!! The eyes!!!
And yeah, wax doesn’t dissolve in water. The alcohol might harden it.
Makes sense!
All you need is a still and you can make Peep Moonshine!
I found something funny with the link for this post on the main page. It links to the promo post for last week. I was about to thank Sarah for promoting ‘The Lone Star, the Tricolor, and the Swastika’ again when I figured out what was going on.
The entire posting process was BIZARRE. maybe because I’m sick, maybe just wordpress, you know?
Probably just WordPress being WordPress.
Please take care of yourself, Sarah.
So here’s something I think is funny – “funny; peculiar”, not “funny; Ha-Ha”.
If current monetary theory is valid (which I doubt), and the government can ‘print’ as much money it wants as long as it withdraws excess-to-actual-productivity through taxation, why don’t we have a guaranteed annual income?
Because the neo-Marxists pulled Modern Monetary Theory out of their asses?
No doubt to make room for their heads.
The government can and will conjure up virtually unlimited amounts of money just by saying they want to spend it. They act as if there’s nothing wrong with this, and the fount of funding is infinite. Yet we still have taxes. Why? Do they know, deep down, that they’re pillaging the future and a bill will come due? Or do they simply want to keep that threat to hold over us?
“Did you know that vampires can’t blowup balloons?” asked Jim.
“Huh?” I replied. I was busy reading the morning news.
“Vampires can’t blowup balloons.”
“That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all week.” I retorted. “And how do you support that?”
“Simple. It’s because vampires don’t blow. They can only suck.”
“Why, you lazy, no-account, sidewindin’ –”
“I don’t talk like that.”
“Hey, bro’, wassup?”
“Or that.”
“Well, then, how do you talk?”
“Pretty much like that. The way you do.”
“But you’re from California.”
“Don’t worry, it’s not terminal.
:chuckles:
My folks (ranchers, Western fans) talk about an interview with Charley Pride at one point, where he got a call-in from a lady with a cut-it-with-a-knife thick southern accent.
“Why ain’t you talkin’ rite?!?!”
“Ma’am…. I learned to talk in Boise. This is just how I sound.”
There is a God that gods would fear. Few deities knew of His existence, and of those few all but one of them were His faithful servants. (An argument could be made for that last one, but he would have called himself ‘the loyal opposition.’)
In the highest Heaven, beyond all the worlds mortal and divine, He sits upon his throne and laughs.
Perhaps most of all at His ‘loyal opposition.’ In His defense, the archdevil Dovaniel was in fact quite funny, when viewed from the right perspective. It was simply impossible for anyone but Him to avail themselves of that perspective.
At the present, said archdevil reclined upon a seat of polished dark wood and red velvet, consumed by a book. And paced back and forth across a plush carpet. And scoured a series of well-inked tomes, muttering under his breath as an animated quill danced ink onto previously blank pages. And occupied himself quietly with an ornate teapot, preparing four cups and politely ferrying them around.
There were, after all, four of him in the room.
Many might ask how that was possible. Very few would ever be able to wheedle an answer out of him, and the cost would be very high. But for those of us safely ensconced in a world beyond his reach (for the moment), the facts are far easier to obtain.
Overall, his methods were actually quite disappointing in their simplicity. There was a certain spell invented a very long time ago by one of the first necromancers. In an attempt to achieve immortality, he found a way to grow an entire human form from a finger, creating a perfect copy of the body which owned the finger. He even worked out how to alter the body somewhat, changing hair color, eye color, skin tone, height… but unfortunately, despite all his efforts, he couldn’t quite figure out how to transfer the human mind, and every body he managed to grow remained stubbornly inert. Over the years, this became a very popular method for faking one’s own death, but no one solved the ‘Problem of Consciousness.’
But gods were quite able to split off fragments of themselves, using avatars imbued with their consciousness to walk the mortal worlds and interact with their followers. So for Dovaniel, it was a simple matter of attaining godhood (which he was already working towards), and then learning how to attach fragments to the bodies he crafted for himself.
No god or goddess had ever attempted to create more than three avatars. Only a few had even gone that far. Had they any conception of just what their less-than-beloved colleague had attempted, they would have been stunned that he didn’t drive himself mad in the process.
Were he in a sharing mood (which was about as likely as an infant surviving in the Abyss), he would have admitted that he had, in fact, driven himself mad. He simply proceeded to drive himself un-mad immediately thereafter.