#i made this in a cooking fugue state and oh my god

[fantasycostco]

i think this is the best toast i’ve made

feat. whole wheat sourdough from @grubloved’s work, local soft bloomy-rind cheese, stewed sweet cherry tomatoes, (sort of) caramelized onion, and j. kenji lopez-alt’s scrambled egg recipe

LOOK AT HOW GOOD THIS BREAD TOASTS

[forsomeonessake]

Slow Snippets

For @mia-ugly ...

Hey! Fixomnia here, radioing in from my GO!Sideblog. This is the simplest way I could think of sending a longpost your way.

I think you know how deeply your Slow Show has resonated with me. It’s been a rare delight to anticipate each chapter. These are just some random fluffy clouds that drifted by as I was reading (and re-reading) that I thought I’d share. Feel free to take them as a compliment, mere reflections of the light you’ve sprinkled about – or do what you will with them!

Having the kids down to the cottage to give Sarah and her husband a weekend to themselves now and then. It’s awkward at first, but Anthony turns out to be a wicked kids’ cooking teacher. He somehow doesn’t mind icing sugar all over his black jeans while holding forth on Meringue Technique.

Even the eldest teenager opens up to him, feeling weird and lonely and nothing like the rest of the family. Anthony knows an adolescent anxiety shrub when he sees one and takes the kid for a walk. He nearly teaches him to smoke, but doesn’t. God help him, he teaches the kid pranic breathing and sensory grounding tips by the river, like some hippie guru.

Uriel and Beez genuinely loathe each other, but the two of them are grudgingly in awe of each other, and they realize they’re each holding half of a goldmine if they can handle working together. Because Beez suddenly has Anthony, Avery, Anathema and another half dozen variously non-conforming young actors on their list and everyone wants a piece of them.

Beez has to deal with being regarded as a Safe Space and a confidante. Jesus wept. Eyes could not roll any harder. It’s not tough love they practice so much as battlefield foxhole tactics to keep everyone alive another day, but it works. Mostly. Beez gets so wrung out that it’s Anthony’s turn to talk her down from a fugue state score now and then.

Anthony and Avery manage to escape their first Christmas with The Families. Avery’s not ready to deal with being Uncle Avery and Uncle Anthony quite yet. (Sarah’s youngest came up with Uncle Az and Aunt Tony, which shows signs of sticking.)

Anthony is tempted to bring Avery to his parents’ New Years All Day Champagne Brunch out of spite. Who better to parade in front of their noses than Avery Class Act Fell? Because Anthony knows that whatever quotes his parents’ publicist released, they aren’t exactly proud, even if they generally wish him well. Vera and Reginald knew they’d be crucified in the press if they were anything less than supportive of their famous gay son’s prodigal return to health, love and career success, but they will never understand how they could have a son like Anthony.

Avery’s dad, unlike Anthony’s, does get to meet “that actor chappie friend of your’n”, before the big wedding. They have nothing in common except for a working knowledge of Vera and Reginald Crowley’s film career, but it’s enough. They both love Avery deeply. And Anthony’s scones don’t hurt.

During the visit, the Garrity lads’ teenaged kids come round to ask for autographs, to the Garrity brothers’ chagrin. Pints together down at the local doesn’t cancel out the hard years. (Anthony insisted on accepting the invite, with a sharkish grin, and threatened to femme out completely, though he settled for sparkly diamond earrings and a scarf. Totally demure by London standards.) But it’s worth something to see the younger Garritys teaching their elders about simple appreciation of different kinds of folk.

After that, Avery seeks out Daniel, to finally have that talk. It turns out Daniel had known instantly what Avery was going through, when they were kids. He’d kicked himself for nudging Avery too hard towards an admission when he wasn’t ready. They were both painfully young and inexperienced at the time. Unlike the Garrity situation, this one ends in a genuine friendship that just skipped a few decades. Daniel and his family are delighted to attend the wedding.

Tracy and Shadwell are actually married-married within a year. Shadwell looks like he doesn’t know what’s hit him, but it’s definitely good. Trace doesn’t go off with the ladies for a long while after, preferring to find jobs on film sets near Shad, wherever he’s working. After keeping Avery going for so long, she’s a natural actor’s PA. And part-time psychic. It starts as an improv in someone’s trailer, showing off her old persona, but Madame Tracy Draws Aside the Veil soon turns into her popular party thing.

Turns out Anthony can sing. Properly sing. He used to have a decent New Romantics croon, back in the 80s, but it’s mellowed into a Nick Cave-ish I’ve-seen-some-shit baritone when he wasn’t paying attention. Avery catches him singing along to some afternoon piano junketing, and prods him into an actual duet. Avery has a stage-trained lyric tenor, self-conscious, but sweet. (“Trace was always the one for singing in the car or while she was doing the hoovering. I just hummed along. Bit of a metaphor, really.”)

Getting Avery to let out his full powerful singing voice becomes something Anthony can actually help him with, something they can work at together. You can imagine how many buttons that pushes for both of them, the sensitive ones and the good ones.

Oh, God, and Beez gets wind of their musical interludes, and next thing they’re signed up to do that Christmas charity CD. And then a West End Panto, one Christmas season when Sir Patrick and Sir Ian are both away filming in America. Avery was made for Dame roles, and Anthony for the Evil Magician. It becomes an annual thing.

One of Beez’ young clients, kicked out after coming out to his parents, ends up billetting with Avery and Anthony for a while. Then he gets into Central for drama school, and it’s decided he might as well move properly into the bottom floor (technically the old servants’ quarters of the London townhouse Avery and Anthony bought together) with a classmate till they’ve finished their course.

The usual papers start to get slimy about them moving a pair of young gay men into the house, but they tackle it head-on with a blistering interview about the rates of homelessness, depression and suicide among LGBTQ youth without support. Avery speaks powerfully about setting himself up for a life of hidden abuse and self-loathing while Anthony manifested his on the outside, and how close they both came to disaster.

The response is so great they find themselves doing something of a speaking tour, working to publicize youth support networks and self-resilience campaigns. It’s not what they’d expected to become Their Social Cause, as actors, but once Avery sees how they’ve been able to help even one young man, it’s as if his shackles have fallen away. (Anthony can’t stop grinning through it all, because people keep congratulating his parents on having such a son.)

Thirty years later, they both somehow end up with Knighthoods for Services to the Arts, a few years apart, and a couple more major industry awards each. The recently crowned King William V recalls watching Avery as the conflicted missionary St. John Rivers in a mid-90s BBC-1 Jane Eyre, with his mother Diana, which makes Sir Avery tear up.

Sir Anthony too. Big Diana fan, him, after all.

[stephhannes]

dressed to anti-depress

in the last two years, i’ve spent a lot of time asking myself questions like “will getting a smoothie today cure my depression?” and “will cutting my hair cure my depression?” and the answer to both of those questions is no. but you know what will kinda cure depression? getting on anti-depressants. 

earlier this year, my mental health was…concerningly bad, and quickly getting worse. i’ve recently gotten pretty good at managing my depression on my own by setting strict boundaries for myself and sticking to them (no screens allowed in my bedroom, exercising every day, no drinking alone etc) but out of nowhere, my anxiety began spiraling out of control. (my doctor suggested it’s due to ‘perhaps, ptsd’). 

but basically, by the time february rolled around i was having a really tough time. i couldn’t enjoy being around anyone because all i could think about was the inevitability of their death. i’d get lunch with a friend and spend the entire time panicking because what if this was the last time i ever got to get lunch with them? i saw my cats and i immediately started sobbing because my first thought was “oh my god they’re going to die one day.” i had a tough time showering because i was convinced that i would slip in the shower and crack my skull and no one would ever know because i live alone. no matter what i was doing, i would find some way to imagine some sort of catastrophe occurring. i noticed that i was starting to develop compulsions- i would obsessively check my rear-view mirror when i was driving, i wouldn’t leave the house without pacing for awhile before i left. i was having a hard time completing tasks which then made my anxiety even worse. every upsetting thought i had felt enormous and scary and would send me spiraling. i couldn’t focus, my memory was getting really terrible. 

and it was exhausting. 

i’ve been putting off trying medication for years. when i was growing up, i remember this weird stigma about anti-depressants. the discourse surrounding them was always like “nah man, they make you a shell of a person. totally numb no emotions or personality anymore.” my parents just like…didn’t believe in mental health so i suffered endlessly in middle and high school because no one would take me to therapy or acknowledge that like hey, maybe my kid isn’t lazy, she’s just clinically depressed. when i was in college, i finally went to therapy for a little bit because it was free through the university. and that helped some, but i still wasn’t completely cured. 

when i moved to new york, surprise, i was still depressed. one of my friends was constantly in my ear saying “hey buddy, you might really benefit from anti-depressants” and i finally realized “actually, i think you have a point, it’s probably worth a try” but every time i’d bring it up with nathan he was super opposed to it and would always just suggest i do something like “get out of bed before 4pm,” or “eat better.” 

by the time we moved to philly i was hitting a breaking point. my anxiety was so bad that nathan hated being in the same room as me when i was freaking out because my vibes were just so wack. the problem was that i had no money, and no health insurance which really left me in a position where the only way i could get help was with nathan’s help- i brought it up kind of casually one day like “hey i really think i might benefit from therapy or medication” and he was like “actually, i think you’d benefit from getting a hobby” 

and then a couple of days later i had a total nervous breakdown and i begged him to help me. i’ll never forget sobbing and saying “i don’t know if i need medication or therapy or both but all i can think about any more is killing myself and i can’t just hobby it away.” and he was finally like “ok, we’ll look into it this weekend” and the next day i woke up with such a sense of relief because i was finally going to get help and i actually had a super productive day. i got some work done, i got a library card and checked out some books. i ran errands, i cooked dinner, i read an entire book. i was actually present in my relationship. i was excited to get my life and myself back. 

and then nathan literally died that night so y’know all of those plans were thwarted. 

and then i spent two years in a fugue state and then i kinda got my shit together and then a pandemic happened and blah blah blah whatever. 

and then we’re back at february 2021. 

after realizing that i had become such an anxious wreck i finally started looking into options. and there she was, an app that allowed me to literally just text a doctor and be like “hey doc im feeling sad :(“ and they’d be like “oh cool, here’s a prescription for zoloft lmk how ur doing in a month xoxo” and for the low cost of 30 dollars a month i have serotonin for the first time in 13 years. 

++

over the last couple of days i’ve been asked the question “what are you thinking about right now?” a few times and my answer is always the same- literally nothing. zoloft has my head so empty and it’s incredible. like, for once i’m not in my own head questioning every god damn thing i do. 

the other day, one of my friends was like “it’s actually enjoyable to hang out with you now” which sounds rude, but makes a lot of sense tbh- sometimes i’m literally just not fun to be around. now i’m fun most of the time- except for the window of time where i realize “oh god i haven’t taken my zoloft yet today” and i start having withdrawal symptoms. but otherwise, i’m great! 

it’s interesting feeling a sense of happiness that isn’t just a manic episode. like sometimes, i’m driving to work and i smile thinking about something one of my friends said earlier in the day. a big 180 from a few months ago when i couldn’t drive without my little beady eyes glued to the rear-view mirror. when i’m left alone with my thoughts for more than 10 minutes, they’re usually pretty decent thoughts, instead of the usual “everyone hates me and i am going to die alone."

i’ve also become a total boss babe- now that i’m not overthinking everything i’m actually able to do my job without an overwhelming sense of anxiety. i’ve always been capable and good at what i do, but for the first time i actually feel confident in my abilities. 

++

with a combination of taurus season being very generous to me and a year of Pandemic Realizations i feel like i’m actually a cool, functional human again (for the first time, even?). i’ve spent a lot of time filtering myself, toning down aspects of my personality to appeal to whoever i’m around, turning up parts of my personality to get attention, etc- and now i’m just out here like “ok so anyway this is me- you get what you get, you don’t throw a fit” 

surprisingly, people have been pretty receptive to that, it’s almost like i am a good person that is worthy of love and kindness or something. 

++

i still haven’t gone to therapy, but i’ve been able to work through a lot of trauma on my own over the last couple of months. i’m finally at a point where i can acknowledge the things i’ve been repressing for a few years without feeling like everything is about to collapse. in time, i hope i’m able to get to a point where i can actually verbalize the feelings i’ve been having, and the things i’ve been (kylie jenner voice) realizing- but i’m not there quite yet. it’s been a weird experience not spiraling every time i feel a human emotion. now i’m able to acknowledge things and be like “ok is there anything i can do to resolve this right now? no? ok then i don’t need to fixate on it” and i can push it away until i need to acknowledge it again. i used to be paralyzed by any sort of inconvenience. 

though, i will say, i’ve started doing this thing where i’ll be like “y’all mind if i share a genuine human emotion?” and then i’ll say something that i never would have dreamt of saying a year ago- generally something that insinuates that sometimes i do experience the human feeling of vulnerability. 

++

every once and awhile i do still get hit with the wave of “why couldn’t i have been this functional when i was with nathan?” guilt. i think that ties into a lot of the grief i feel over all of the years i lost due to my depression- and even more specifically the months i lost due to my depression when i first moved to new york, and again when we moved to philly. when i first moved to new york, i didn’t really leave the apartment for 3 months. i slept most of the time. there were days long stretches where i was just completely emotionally unavailable. and much like in my adolescence when my parents refused to acknowledge that maybe i needed help, sometimes i feel angry that nathan also refused to acknowledge that maybe i needed help. 

i spent a lot of time really agonizing over the fact that eventually i would be stable, and would eventually be a better partner to someone else than i was to nathan, and i think there’s still a part of that that exists in me- but i’ve found a little more peace with the concept. i’m thankful that nathan had the patience to deal with me when i was losing every last marble rattling around in my brain- but there’s always a part of me that’s like “damn, i wonder what our relationship would have been like if i’d been a little less unstable” 

++

you can really tell that my mental health has improved just by the trajectory that my close friends instagram story has taken. it used to just be me drunk and crying every night at 4am and now it’s thirst traps and girl boss selfies. 

there are still character flaws that are so deeply ingrained in me that i’m constantly having to be aware of and combat, but it’s a lot easier to do that when i don’t exist on pure anxious energy. everything i do is still very much informed by the deep-seated fear of rejection i have, but i’ve been trying very hard to start to break that down. it’s like an irrational fear. like ‘afraid to tell my friend i love them when i’m hanging up the phone because what if they actually just hate me?’ level. now my friends will literally call me back if i don’t say i love you before hanging up and be like “hey bitch i said i love you say it back” and now it’s becoming a little less terrifying. 

my inability of showing vulnerability definitely stems from that fear of rejection. look, it’s scary to be like “hello this is a tough thought i’ve been having lately do you mind unpacking it with me?” i know that if i were to say that literally anyone in my circle would be like “yea let’s do it” but just the concept that the option of them being like “nah that’s a lot” keeps me from saying anything. there have been a couple times in the last few months where i’ve stepped out of my comfort zone to acknowledge and unpack some of those hard truths though, so congrats to me or whatever. i’ve even been hugging my friends more often (which is saying a lot coming from a woman that has never hugged her best friend, still to this day). 

++

anyway, as soon as i start going to therapy it’s going to be over for these hoes because i’m gonna be hot and sane and probably unstoppable. 

[flapperfromthefuture]

I’ve been struggling to keep up with both baking and writing due to the stress of starting dog agility, Italian lessons and watching Chernobyl all at the same time.

It’s all starting to meld together, honestly, like when A spent twenty minutes clarifying the exact way to say “The dog’s Minnie Mouse ears” in Italian without confusing who the ears belong to (the dog) with the original possessor of the ears (Minnie Mouse), when we haven’t even gotten to possessive pronouns yet.

Meanwhile, I was texting under the table with my dad, who needed some reassurance as he dove into the ol’ nuclear reactor.

“I feel like the radiation is leaking through the TV screen,” he said. “Elizabeth, thanks a LOT. I’m having nightmares tonight from one episode.”

A wanted to go to Canada over the weekend to hit up the sidewalk sale at our favorite kitchen store, Williams Food Equipment, “The Candy Store for Cooks!”

It is, quite simply, the greatest store. Where else can you buy this and this and this, at reasonable prices that are even more reasonable when you figure out what you’re paying in American dollars (which we can’t until we get back across the border, so it’s like a fun surprise!).

A insisted that we get there on opening day, the moment they opened. While I was proud of her for approaching normal life like it’s Disney World, I questioned whether or not it was worth it to show up so early.

“No one is going to be there right when they open,” I said. “They probably won’t even have everything set up.”

“They will,” said A. “Because I’ll be there.”

And then she tossed an invisible scarf over her shoulder and walked out of a room she had just entered.

But before our adventure could commence, I had an agility class. My sister offered to come with me, which was really nice of her, because agility freaks me out. Everyone in agility is intense, even the dogs. Lumi is only in a pre-beginners class (she’s not even a real beginner!) and we’re getting the full Best in Show experience.

(Have you seen that? It’s the best movie of all time. Do you like Schitt’s Creek? It’s like that. Canada has given us so much).

My sister helped me wrangle Lumi and get her crate in and out of my car (it’s apparently standard to have a crate at all agility sessions because that’s how it goes for competitions and apparently I needed better triceps and perpetual open wounds on my hands anyway), but I almost lost her when she caught sight of something on the wall.

“RIBBON,” she whispered, pointing at a four-foot long prize ribbon like she was in a trance. My sister loves a good show ribbon, and this was from a national level, so it was pretty impressive.

You know this scene in Sleeping Beauty?

It was like that.

“Yeah, Lumi loves the jumps, and the instructor is really good, but I don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” I said, as she stared at this ribbon. “I get really anxious before every class and then I think she picks up on it—”

“Oh, you have to do this,” said my sister. “Think of the ribbons.”

“I guess so, as long as Lumi’s enjoying it—”

“RIBBONS!”

As she helped me train Lumi on the teeter-totter, she informed me that she and her boyfriend, Steve, wanted to watch Chernobyl next. She didn’t know much about it, other than that my parents were watching it and listening to the companion podcast on the TV because it was somehow easier than playing it on a phone.

“Do people live in the next town over from Chernobyl?” asked my sister. “You know, what is it like to live in Chernobyl Heights?”

“I’m not sure,” I said.

“Steve went to a rugby tournament once called ‘Three Mile Thailand’ once,” she said, “so he and his buddies showed up for their flight to Bangkok in hazmat suits. That didn’t go over too well. Made the flight though!”

I am terrified at offending anyone who could wield any power over my ability to move or access transportation. So the border crossing between Detroit and Windsor sends me into panic mode even though it’s always fine (anxiety!), especially when I’m driving. I still have nightmares about the one time I was asked to open my trunk and was so flustered I couldn’t find the button, then forgot which college I attended, even though I have an alumni sticker on my back window.

When A drives us over the border, she tends to turn into an alien as soon as she puts down the window. The last time we went over, the Canadian border guard asked for our passports and she said, “Have you by chance ever seen a MOOSE?” with the widest eyes outside of a cartoon, just filled to the brim with wonder at the chance of seeing a moose in a very urban part of Canada that does not have moose, and the guy was very nice and gently broke it to her without laughing that he had not seen a moose in twenty years, and I’m sure he tells his entire family about us to this day and hopefully asks the moose gods to smile on us in his daily prayers.

But when we rolled up to the customs booth at 8:30 in the morning on a Saturday, and the border guard narrowed his eyes at me and said, “What kind of animal is in that crate,” I somehow managed to channel a cool James Bond-esque persona without actually being cool at all. I propped my elbow up on the open window, tilted my sunglasses and said, in a nonchalant tone of voice that I have never heard emerge from my body, “So, I’m taking this very intense dog agility class. They told me I have to bring this big ol’ crate with me to every class, but I don’t want to lug it up and down my stairs every week, you know what I mean?”

The guard looked bored the moment I opened my mouth, but I kept talking. “So I’m keeping it in the car for a few weeks. You know how it goes.”

I said all this like it was the most normal thing in the world. And the guard just waved us through! Is this how it feels to be a dude? You say the dumbest thing that comes to mind and people just let you into their country?

Imagine my surprise when we rolled up right at 9 in the morning, on a Saturday, and there were already people outside! With carts!

And before I’d even parked the car, that good old frenzy mode had kicked in. A and I spent almost two hours pondering purchases of heart-shaped pots, bulk ketchup bottles, whisks of all sizes, and the actual bread baskets you see in every restaurant.

This is the land where bread baskets come from!

“I mean, we might need an oyster knife someday,” I said, a person who has never eaten seafood because The Little Mermaid still makes me cry.

A was already filling up her cart with discounted ceramic dip bowls for everyone she has ever met.

It goes without saying that everyone at this store is incredibly nice—if you buy a large cooking pot, they say “Congratulations!” like you’ve welcomed a new family member.

I asked if they had a French rolling pin, and a man emerged from the meat slicers and told me what kind of rolling pin is best to use for brioche and what to use for strudel and then just vanished back into a mist of flour and maple sugar.

I got that French rolling pin, along with a new digital temperature probe (or thermomètre électronique à sonde!) and a few other odds and ends that I genuinely can’t remember purchasing because I was in a glorious fugue state thanks to our glorious neighbor.

A bought enough dip bowls to create her own dip fountain.

I might have to go back for whatever this is, though.

I mean, it will obviously pay for itself.

We made it back across the border—when the dude asked for the purpose of our visit, I forgot to put my elbow on the window and instead blurted “Kitchen supplies!” and started sweating like it might be a federal crime to traffic pie tins across an international border.

He waved us through. The dip bowls rattled in my trunk the whole way home.

We stopped at my parents to share our adventures and pick up Lumi. Steve and my sister were there to check out our haul. My parents had just finished Chernobyl.

“This is a quality rolling pin,” said Steve. “It’s really from France!”

Out of nowhere, my dad said, “Steve, they came this close to killing 50 million people.”

“I wish I’d gotten espresso spoons,” said A. “Should we go back for espresso spoons?”

“We wouldn’t have been able to go to Estonia on our cruise,” said my dad. “They would’ve been toast.”

It surprised absolutely no one that Steve knew the locations of all three nuclear reactors in Michigan offhand.

“We’d be in the exclusion zone,” whispered my mom.

“Chernobyl Heights!”

The Arms Race for Canadian Cooking Supplies I've been struggling to keep up with both baking and writing due to the stress of starting dog agility, Italian lessons and watching…

[inexchangeforyoursoul]

Not gonna lie… I wanted to double up on this one and put the next Nami chapter in here so there’s another long one after all that hiatus. But I see it's already massive at over 4k, so I'm not disappointed in myself. :p

ps have y'all ever tried to draw Law with Cora's smile? I did, a few years back. You may have even seen it. It's pure nightmare fuel...

25. Grandma: off

"Yeah, these are vanilla flavored," she concludes after Law had her taste the ones with a yellowish hue on them, even though the smell was a dead giveaway.

"You can have those, then," he states as he's nibbling on the remains of an unflavored one.

"You dislike vanilla?" Kat asks, being somewhat surprised at the information. Like, it's a sometimes food, true… but she also won't straight-out turn it down when being offered. Nor does she know anyone who would. Well, didn't know anyone, who would.

"Nope. Once every blue moon I'll accept it, but generally? I don't like vanilla. Nor raspberries, blackcurrants…" He leans back into the chair, thinking about; "... pineapples. Licorice. Green apples and yellow tomatoes…"

"... zoes dis list 'ave an end?" she asks, munching on a vanilla flavored piece.

"... eventually," he nods, then continues in the same breath: "Artichokes, brussels sprouts… aubergines. Caviar. It's a long one."

She swallows the mouthful of crackers. Must be as long as the list of enemies she never received, except it's all villainous food. "I'm also not a fan of a few you just mentioned, but sheesh... didn't realize you were this picky." She doesn't consider herself a picky eater at all, considering how she likes most stuff others turn their noses up to, but him…? That's a lot of items. Sure, most of these would be hard to notice as they are relatively uncommon, but still. Plus there's bread. And raisins. And god knows, what else.

"Now you know. Deal with it," he states, biting into his last plain cracker.

"... you really are a princess." A princess perpetually stuck between Criminal brand and haute couture. She's… tempted to sneak a pea under the mattress.

"And her highness is about to give you new instructions, so get your shit together," he states then, getting up from his seat that's been turned towards the bed for the impromptu tea party. Kat follows him to the chest of drawers just as he motions her to get her ass over there.

"So," Law starts once having some mouth space to work with; "I guess you've already noticed these," he says, opening one of the small chestlets halfway. She nods.

"Today you will try to pop stuff inside them. Take this button, for example," he says, already putting it into her hand; "It's small enough to fit any of these; once you've managed to do that, take them out again. Without looking inside, of course. Start with the biggest one, proceed from there once you've done it without a hitch three times in a row, that is to say, the box remained intact." Having finished the briefing, he stuffs the remainders of the rice cracker into his mouth and digs out the biggest specimen from the bottom of the brick pile.

"..." The explanation was easy enough to follow, but… "I, um… wouldn't it be bad if I cut out too many pieces by accident?" There can be only so many boxes she can ruin and holes that can be made...

"Things you break that way, you can repair yourself… and I have a wee little feeling that you already know how to reassemble stuff. Boxes don't need surgical hands if you mess up, you're good to go. Godspeed," he says as he's stepping back to his chair, swatting her back while at it. He's gonna have another cup of that green tea.

"Oh… okay." Basically, if she was handed a plate broken in two… she could fix it as if it had always been under the fruit's influence, huh? Wow… it seems super logical, but she didn't think of that. Maybe because it would have been a little too convenient, considering all the stuff she can do already. A power that's all kinds of broken, indeed; and one which is, funnily enough, exceptionally good at un-breaking things.

Back to the task at hand, however… it… is kind of a relief that she has to do something else for a change, no lie. Even if it's just the next level of the same task. Well then… attagirl.

As expected and kind of feared, the operation just doesn't happen to be something within her skill range. If nothing else, the sheer challenge that the simple task poses is driving her will to crack the fucking, godforsaken, lousy code already. She's never been so pissed at random inanimate objects before. Not even the croissant from the other day.

She won't be able to pull off the freeing of the button for a while, that's for sure, but she's infuriatingly close to get to the solution of putting the button in without mass producing malformed guitar picks and miniature honeycomb statues, for all it's worth. (Could it be that her desk is actually fixed at home…? It would be nice to know.)

Law meanwhile is checking on her briefly every now and then… and has written some additional shit into this diary thing after a few occasions. For some reason, this doesn't sit all that well with her, but maybe it's just the fact that getting evaluated this way reminds her of elementary school. More specifically, the one art teacher who kept circling across the classroom like a vulture and wouldn't say anything, just write in a seemingly liberal note after the bells rang. It was a lucky dip of fours and the rare five for her; her taste clashed somewhat with hers, but since she was an overall nice and eager girl, the woman let it slide. Others weren't so... well, lucky. This teacher left fairly quickly as a number of parents complained about their otherwise excelling students getting a gracious 3, if not a barely passing 2 at the end of the first year of her work; the staff were also not exactly a fan of her, so there was little fuss. What even was her deal…?

Law waving a hand in front of her face pulls Kat back from the self-indulgent reminiscence.

"... there, now you're paying attention… It's about half past one, if you're hungry, be free to leave. Just come back within an hour or so, okay?"

"Oh, um… alright." Did she not notice him addressing her? Man, that's embarrassing… about as much as her stomach wanting attention all of a sudden and not being shy about it, either. Getting really tired, too… may have been trying too hard? A cup of coffee is in order for sure. She barely even remembers doing this for more than an hour…

The phenomenon is not foreign to her, although usually it's with something she enjoys. It always feels like waking from a nap wondering what day or year it is, except she's wide awake all along. Boy, does she hate when this happens at an inappropriate time.

Law wrinkles his brows in mild worry; she's absolutely out of it. Has been all day, to be honest. "... look, if… if you're like this because of yesterday evening, it's fine. Forget what I've just said and try to get your head clear before you come back instead, alright? You won't be able to work like this, take a walk, or whatever."

She blushes a little and starts fiddling with her thumbs; she's scattered enough for it to be beyond obvious… sheesh. "... okay."

Taking a walk seems definitely the way to go, she ponders over her lunch a few minutes later, still in some kind of trance; she's not up for doodling right now and it occurred to her that singing is a no-no. However, she also doesn't like to err around without a goal. Perhaps she could take a look at the cafe, or get more chestnuts… or… hm, there's been some stuffed animals on display, too, right? That seems to be something worth looking into. She has a stupid plan, after all.

As soon as she hops ashore a little after 2 o'clock, a familiar figure appears en route to the fair; Fugu seems to be returning with quite a lot of groceries.

"Hi," Kat waves awkwardly as they cross paths; she considered going the longer way, but… if he noticed her, too, it would have been really rude, wouldn't it. Take it like the fake man you are at the moment. And in general.

"Good day to you, too, Miss," the man greets her, slowing down a little, which she does herself; "are you going out to shop, too? Or is it just a walk?"

"A little bit of both…. I've been a dunce all day, so Law suggested I unwind somehow," she confesses while rubbing the sideburns, thinking back at the rather embarrassing convo.

He nods solemnly. "It is a good decision to step outside. Spending too much time down there can make one dull fast."

"Can't argue with that," she sighs. Not leaving her room in general is one thing, but cooking pretty much all day below deck in the dark is not something she could get used to on the long run. Travelling on that tin can must suck really bad… honestly, Law should have also come out. How many times has he left that thing since they've been like this? Up to five times? Next time, she's dragging him with her. Seriously, how the hell has he been surviving this in her body?! Anyway… "That sure is a lot of stuff you have, though… don't you need help with that?"

The man cracks a smile, thinking back to some past shopping adventures. "The others don't appreciate me taking my time… and the nagging kind of ruins the experience, you know? Speaking of which, though… I actually am running late today, so I'll be on my way. See you around, Miss, and have a good time!" With that, Fugu is already on his way at double the speed he came thus far to reach his alternate shadow that never met up with her.

"Thanks… same to you!" she waves in vain as there's noone to see the action, also picking up pace. She definitely won't want to walk out all the way to the new docks an hour away, there's nothing to see there apart from new ships and the hill with the pretty houses where rich traders and the odd noble live. The furthest parts of the fair will be about half an hour away, where a small chapel signals the end of the old district, but fast walker on longer legs than usual or not, that also would be a waste of time, to be honest… all in all, she shouldn't be out for more than fifteen or twenty minutes altogether for this. She asked for the coffee to be made for half past two, so she's got all the motivation she needs to get back in time, too.

First things first, Kat lets the nice smells seduce her and she gives into the temptation of another small bag of chestnuts even though she's not really hungry; thankfully, there's someone else there instead of the weirdo from the other day. Passing the notice board, she's surprised to see that two of the more 'famous' teens from the high-class parts have gone missing. Finds it hard to be worried a few seconds later upon noticing that they've not come home yesterday night; seeing how they are troublemakers, spending the night elsewhere wouldn't be much of a downgrade. But apparently, they've told their parents until now when they stayed out after curfew, they must be thinking of the worst, considering the news lately. That's kind of nice to know.

She skims the other stuff; apart from some job offers and wanted posters, all she can find is another notice from the police stating that the group from last Tuesday that's been taken into custody will be given over to a marine ship Saturday afternoon at 8. Kat raises a brow; while they did almost kill-slash-kidnap her and a bunch of people last week, why would they announce this detail… reading on, she comes to a halt with an 'oooh'. Alright, she can see the point now. According to their information, former fleet admiral Sengoku will be accompanying some greenhorn marines on the ship. Someone must be a fan. Regardless… she better keep low that day, maybe avoid coming outside altogether. Taking a mental note and swatting the worrisome thoughts about the port town disappearances into little clouds, she moves on. Walking deeper into the cheap stuff, she eventually does notice what she came for: a place with stuffed animals galore.

She takes a quick look around, and her eyes zero in on a really big, white teddy bear in the middle of a pile; it looks exceptionally fluffy. But, is it as soft as it looks? She steps over to it and slides a finger down its arm; yes... yes! That is absolutely the softest goddamn plushie that has ever graced her skin. Or Law's, but who the fuck cares. And it's… oh. Oh, boy. 12000 Bellys. Um… hm. Reconsidering.

As amazing it would be to shove this thing into his face as soon as she arrives… as a one-off prank and a useless gift, this really ain't worth the money. She also really ought to use the huge canvas she bought for like eight a while back, stroking it gently and contemplatively is not gonna get her anywhere. All it will do is drench the cotton in stinky human body oils.

Taking another look around, she spots a few more bears; she slides over most of them immediately, as they do not seem to fulfill her questionable standards regarding this purchase. One's too goofy, another is an unsympathetic, weirdly mixed brown color, and the third… she's not sure what kind of clothing that blinding neon vomit is supposed to be. She eventually spots another round ear hiding behind a pink doskoi panda. She pulls it out and… seems like a jackpot. At least it does look way too determined for an off-white chap with its black and white backpack that can probably fit some cash, and the black shirt. Honestly, if either would be striped instead of what they are, this would look like one really, really proud burglar bear. Well, then… nothing in this pile is over a thousand, so...

Kat approaches the ships with a sprint, knowing that she was already over 15 minutes with this little detour before even starting to browse the teddies. The slalom between the old warehouses is not something she likes because of the drunkards and thugs like those two lost whippersnappers that hang out in these abandoned parts from evening till dawn, and the odd dead body that people find about once a year, but hey… it makes things quick. She sees the mast of the Sunny peek out from beyond the roofs; already there, thank god. Running towards the shore already, she spies a lot of small… somethings around the last corner by the sea. It could be puke... but… nope. She slows down for a moment and squints; it's… sunflower seed shells. At least two average packages worth; someone must have come all the way out here to the two ships last night to sate their need, which looks like a straight-out addiction. Thinking about it, though, not only has she not seen any unsavory puddles, but the area has been really quiet in the past week or so, even if the people on the main street would cover up most of the noise anyhow… perhaps knowing that there are formidable pirates docking nearby has them worried…. or the more frequent patrols during the festival smoked them out at last? Who knows, really; she just hopes that the peace will be felt for a few more weeks. Sleeping by an open window is risky, because she cannot know when people will get too close to her quarters and break bottles or scream… but when they don't, it's the best sleep she can get apart from the very limited warm winter evenings, when she's had comfort food and a long, hot bath she reserves for the occasions. Having actual winter weather when appropriate is nice.

Kat finds it easier to crawl onto the huge ship by boarding the Tang first, since the ladder is somewhat suspended, so she takes the opportunity to have a quick look around for Law; by some kind of miracle, he actually is out here, seemingly sending some of his crew she doesn't know much to do something downstairs in this very moment. One of them has a tool box… maybe something about the engine or plumbing, then.

"What's up down there?" Kat asks walking up to him, with the hand hiding the teddy turned back. She's always found blatant hiding of presents counterproductive… having something in a hand that's not easy to recognize, while still not bulletproof, is the superior strategy by far. The mostly intact chestnut bag being noisy in the other also helps.

"Some pipe seems to be leaking in the showers," Law responds, looking at an accounting book page. If they need to weld in a chunk with a small one, there should be enough stock, but if they'll have to replace it, or even worse, it's the main line… they will have to find a shop. The funds are not looking the best at the moment, though, and he's no gonna ask Nami. Hm… what are the chances that they could scavenge some from these old warehouses…? Would be nice to have Scan available right about now. Maybe he will open a Bepo petting zoo to raise money, this once, and perhaps rope in Carrot as well...

"... is that something that happens often?" How much piping and stuff even is there in this thing? "When underwater?"

"12-18% more likely than on surface dwelling ships, pressure changes and all. Still not as bad as when the ventilation croaks eight thousand deep, trust me," he answers, putting the green marker ribbon of the three available ones on the page, then slaps it shut. "And, have you pulled yourself together?" He asks, turning his attention to her, though he's somewhat distracted by the bag.

"..." She kind of wants to hear that story. But not now. "Been a little irresponsible, as you can see," she pokes her head towards the item; "you can snack on it, if you want to. Otherwise, I've yet to drink a coffee to make sure I keep being productive, but yeah… I guess a walk was really all I needed, thanks," she says, trying to keep the smile levels in check. "By the way," aaand there goes the effort, "here."

Just like that, Law gets to see eye to eye with a stuffed bear that looks as if it was ready to fight him.

He blinks a few times, brows pulling closer together in confusion and surprise.

"Iiit's for you." The statement starts question-like, then ends sounding matter-of-fact. She… didn't really think this far. And can't read shit from that reaction.

"... for me." She just… she's actually handing him a teddy bear. The fuck.

"Mhm." She nods. "One more for the collection."

"What for?" His perplexed state leaks through his voice; he also grabs the thing so he can see her proper again; can't think of any rational explanation. Unless it's a joke, that is. Certainly sounds like it.

She shrugs. "... just because." There is no real goal to be achieved here. She just wants to drown him in embarrassingly adorable bears, preferably with as many people witnessing it as possible. And watch him struggle with the situation... this is as close as she can get without going bankrupt.

This... doesn't exactly sit well with Law. Because, if he's right about thinking that she's trying to compensate for… whatever, really… this is getting out of hand, no matter the reason. He can feel his pulse picking up pace; she's been doing it all day. The rice crackers, and tea... She doesn't seem to be lying about the chestnuts being an impulse purchase, but she just offered them, too...

"... Kat-ya... we need to talk."

Although the phrase makes her uneasy, somehow, the fact that he just used that name again shoos the other feeling to the side. "Oh... did a million years pass already?" she asks with honest wonder. Or... could it have been just 'a thousand years' the other day…? Well, same difference in this case.

He set himself up on that one, didn't he…

Seeing Law's disgruntled face, she adds: "Sorry, sorry... shoot away."

He lets out a sigh. "Look, about this…" he takes a passing look at the bear; "... aggressive attention and care stunt you're pulling... I do appreciate the sentiment, but stop. Being stalked by a surrogate grandma is not something I want, ever." Actually, let's just... "Please." He's low-key willing to get on his knees and beg if it becomes too embarrassing for him.

She's somewhat ashamed at his request and just a bit disappointed upon hearing that; "Oh... okay. Sorry."

Law reaches up and pulls at her ear gently, which is followed by the most unconvincing, little 'ow' on her side. "And stop apologizing for every little thing, sheesh. I'm just asking you to moderate yourself and take it down a notch, alright?" A whole 20 notches. She just bought him a goddamn teddy bear, for fuck's sake. One that is, in fact, sporting the same half-determined, half-smug expression he has on quite often. Be it a joke, poking fun at him or something genuine, this is too much. And it's, uh... kind of weirding him out?

He can't even remember the last time someone bought him something tacky that wasn't his crew. Or, well, the Strawhats as of a few weeks back. And he can't really tell her to fuck off because of this whole situation they are locked in. They have already passed the stage where he actually would tell her something like that, having a good idea how hard she would take it, not to mention that it would make everything exponentially worse, and he… frankly, he has no idea how to handle this situation. How do you communicate with those who are not backstabbing, murderous, thieving jackasses, or of generally questionable morals? With, you know… people?

"Okay... then, I should handle you less like a princess, and more like..." she starts after a second, stopping Law's train of thought, then stops herself as well, trying to decide on something less baby-able; children won't do, of course, nor animals, uh... "a flower!" All they need is some light and water... and the occasional fertilizer! Boom!

Law decides to push his little crisis aside for the time being, and suppresses the snort upon being compared to a 'flower.' He'll have to figure out how to act as if he had some fucks to give later. "Both of those comparisons are really weird, considering you're talking about me, you know. But… I guess. If you want to put it like that."

She flashes a big, optimistic smile, which just… doesn't quite fit his face, and never will. Still, it's as if he just gave her a treat for being a good dog. Which is, frankly, quite amusing. He can practically see her wag her nonexistent tail... Pulling her leg from time to time will be tempting. "And? Will you actually be able to keep to it?"

"Sure," she answers, then speaks up again after a few seconds, musing; "Honestly, I just want to... well, see you less morose all of the time, if that makes sense." Knowing what she does now, the memory of him silently laughing at the aquarium while she was butchering his person became a hundred times more pleasant. As is the chuckle from earlier.

… he really should have just let her leave yesterday. This has already gotten uncomfortable, not to mention that it reeks of trouble. "Seriously, Kat… if you are doing this because of what I suspect- which you are, let's be honest,- but even if not… it's still not your job to make me happy."

… saying that out loud feels so weird. It's almost as if he's speaking a foreign tongue.

Her pep goes as suddenly as it came. Partly because, well… Law's right. Still… "I like making people smile and laugh, though," she mumbles.

She's a difficult one, alright. He gives his head a frustrated scratch; "I never said you couldn't try, just... everything has a time and place, okay?"

She grumbles something that must be an 'okay' while nodding. Meanwhile, Nami has appeared over the railing, and calls out to her almost immediately:

"Kat, coffee is ready! You like it with two sugars and milk, right?"

It takes her a second to shake off the embarrassment and address the question. "I do," she replies at last.

"Now go, get that coffee," Law instructs, poking her with the book; "And wipe that frown off your face, brooding is my job, capiche?" Even if he'll be forever weirded out by how his face looks with a genuine smile plastered over it.

She can't help, but crack an awkward smile a that. "Yeah." Another moment of hesitation later, she steps towards the rope ladder.

Law sighs and takes another look at the bear. Now… will this thing fit into the chest with the dozens of others he's gotten throughout the years?

[thefarlefchronicles]

Farlef Chronicles Episode 3 - The Return of the Moose

Previously on The Farlef Chronicles - Shit Happened Current - December 24th 2016  

A man is riding in the cold winter on his motorcycle heading home.   

 Home is a strange word for the lone ranger riding on his steel horse. He is an indeterminate height and weight with indiscernible features. He is easily lost in a crowd and easily forgotten. Just the way he likes it. He pulls over to side of the road and takes a drag of his cigarette. This man is Agent Deer aka Roadkill Toast aka The Pink Flamingo of Miami aka Farlef90 aka 2 Legs aka Fucking Can Walk aka The Bro with the Does aka Mike Tyson aka The Other Evans aka 

   "God it is cold out" - Farlef muttered to himself as he tried to get warm while he tried to figure out where he was. He concluded due to the migration of the few birds in the air, the cloud formations, the positioning of the sun and his 47 years of boy scout training he deduced he was 1/2 mile NE from Deer Park. Also all the deer that were heading home for Christmas was a dead giveaway to the direction of the town.

  As he continued into town he was left wondering to himself bout if his father would enjoy the present he got him and if he would try to kill him again. He thought they buried the hatchet after Sam's funeral but if his dad was off his meds he might snap or be jovial. He had a vial of pure Xanax to inject him with if needed but he would rather cause when he does this his dad can briefly walk and then collapses.  In the corner of his eye he noticed something he stopped short to stare at and it sent a chill down his spine. Like a figurative chill not a literal chill even tho it was cold out but a creepy chill like something is coming.

NO NOT THAT, THIS.

 The sight of the half frozen/half eaten deer concerned him on more the one level. He knew this could mean a number of things. Nazi Zombies. Deer Zombies, Deer Park Resident Zombies, Ginger Zombies, Zombie Zombies, A hungry bear who ate the deer while it was frozen from the cold weather then turned into a Zombie. As he shit into his sock he contemplated all the zombie scenarios that could possibly happen. After he finished he threw the shit filled sock at a car passing by with a bumper sticker that read I STOP FOR MOOSE.

"Fucking Moose Port mother fucker" he said to himself as he dove away not noticing the car crash he caused.

As Farlef continued to drive east along W Antler Road (LEGIT ROAD, I GOOGLED IT, LMFAO) turning onto N Monroe Road which in turn became W Monroe Road then W Crawford St then E Crawford St in 4 blocks he was finally home in Deer Park. He took a moment to breathe in the fresh air of his home town. While he did this he failed to notice a car slowly pulling up to him. Luckily with his Ninja reflexes he honed while studying the proper way to prepare Fugu a Japanese delicacy that if prepared wrong could kill you. He did kill 47 people before learning how to prepare it right but 11 of those deaths he did on purpose. No one stiffs The Farlef unless he asks for it. As he landed after doing a triple back flip and throwing 4 shuriken at his would be attackers he got a good luck at them and realized that his 4th worst fear had come true.

THE MOOSE WERE BACK AND WAR HAS COME TO DEER PARK.

Farlef drove as fast as his bike could take him on these ice covered streets to his dad's house. He would need to consult his father, a veteran of the last GREAT DEER PARK WAR. Pulling up to the house he noticed a strange biker in the driveway he never seen before. Normally this wouldn't bother him, his father was an avid motorcycle collector, after all he liked to taunt himself with bikes he would never be able to drive cause he has no feeling in his legs except the feeling of knowing his son is a homosexual. The odd thing about motorcycle was that it was designed for cripples. He then saw his father roll out the back of it and felt a little bit relieved.

     As his dad emerged for his cocoon of a vehicle he noticed his son. He was going to go into his usual racist/homophobic tirade bout his son's lifestyle and decisions but he noticed something in Farlef's eyes he never seen before. Fear. Or maybe he was hungry. Now that he thought about it he never really looked into his son's eyes for fear of catching the gay. He read a story bout how the queerosexuals could turn the manliest of men gay with just a glance and a smile so he hasn't truly looked at his son in 12 years. Now was different, he had an aura about him. Again he wasn't sure what it was, it might have been a gay thing or a deep disturbance in the force. Holy shit he immediately though, maybe this son was coming out as straight. A huge grin creept onto his face and he stood out of his wheelchair for the first time in years with glee.

     "MY BOY, MY SWEET BABY BOY YOUR BACK. MY GOD WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE. TRUMP IS PRESIDENT, THOSE DAMN MEXICANS GOING BACK TO THEIR CESSPOOL OF A COUNTRY AND MY SON IS STRAIGHT AGAIN. I PRAYED AND I PRAYED THAT THE GOOD LORD WOULD TAKE THE GAY AWAY AND HE DID. MOTHER OF PEARL I CAN FINALLY FEEL MY LEGS, WHAT A FEELING. WHERE'S THOSE DAMN LEGOS, I NEED TO RUN OVER THEM BAREFOOT. JEEZ LOUISE I CAN'T EXPRESS HOW HAPPY I AM RIGHT NOW. JOHN, CUT DOWN THE NOOSE FROM THE TREE. I DON'T NEED IT ANYMORE, MY SON IS ALIVE."

     "Dad that is a tire swing. Its been in that tree since I was a kid, you thought it was a noose this whole time? That actually explains a lot like why I keep seeing you swinging from it making choking sounds then disappointed nothing is happening" replied John who was in town visiting. "

     AFTER YOU CUT DOWN THAT ALABAMA WIND CHIME GET ME THE PHONE, I NEED TO CALL YOUR GRANDPARENTS AND TELL THEM MY BOY HAS COME HOME"

     "THEY'RE DEAD" John yelled back as he went to cut down the tree with his chainsaw.

         Farlef contemplated to himself if he should let this charade continue or tell his father what was really wrong. He figured honesty was the best policy and he still didn't forget what happened at Sam's funeral.        

          "Actually about that dad I am still bisexual and also I forgot the bunt cale" Farlef said.

         All the hope and elation died in his father's eyes. No bunt cake he thought to himself not even registering the fact his son came out as bisexual again. He really wished his son just payed for sex like everyone else but this ruined the man. He slink back into his wheelchair depressed as ever. Little did either of them know, they were being watched.

    “You hungry?" Farlef's dad asked, a defeated man once again and broke in mind, body and spirit.

    "Dad I saw something in town and you need to hear about this its important"

       "I know, they opened a gay club in Deer Park called The Queer Deer. Fucking progressive hippies."

         "It's not that dad, it's the moose. They're back."     

       Farlef's dad was silent for what felt like eternity but was actually 1 minute and 42 seconds. He was having one of his patented PTSD flashbacks to the war. The look on his face was sheer disgust and intrigue. He had seen and done many a horrible things in the Great War. Not WW2, an army psychiatrist deemed him too violent to fight in that one. No I am talking about the great Deer Park war of 1941.

   "Son come inside, it's time you heard the whole story about the great war that took place. It was one of the bloodies battles our small town has ever seen"       

    As Farlef's dad rolled into the house, Farlef could smell something……odd from the kitchen.

"You left the stove on?"

"Yea having a small Christmas Eve party. “

      What Farlef saw made him vomit a little. He has eaten some fucked up things in his travel to survive. Entire mounds of ants, goat horns, camel humps, gas station sushi but the meals his father were preparing were truly disgusting for any human to consume.

Um dad what the holy fuck are you cooking?" Farlef asked as he held back his bile.

“The usual a Chicktopus, Boiled Deer head and Chicken and Bananas." 

"HOLY SHIT DAD YOU CAN'T JUST PUT FOOD DIRECTLY ON THE STOVE SOMETHING MIG-"

Before Farlef could warn him bout the danger a huge explosion erupted in the kitchen.

"Jesus that could have been worse, what were you microwaving?" Farlef asked.

"Oh just some Amatex: (ammonium nitrate and RDX)Amatol:(ammonium nitrate)Ammonal: (ammonium nitrate and aluminium powder plus sometimes charcoal).Baratol: ( barium nitrate and wax)Composition B ( RDX and paraffin wax )Composition H6.Cyclotol (RDX) Ednatol , your dad likes to heat them up before he bastes the Octochicken" Farlef’s dad replied.

“THOSE ARE THE INGREDIENTS FOR TNT” EXCLAIMED RIGHT BEFORE THE FIRE ERUPTED.

Instead of anyone helping everyone immediately fled from the house.

Farlef's dad immediately jumped out of his wheelchair and fled the scene.

Farlef jumped out the nearest window once he noticed his father locked the door.

John fled into the ceiling while his girlfriend tried to save their cat to no avail.

Even the horse escaped.

     As Farlef and his dad watched their home burn down he only had two questions for his father. 

  "Dad how did this happen and why now?"

    "Regrettably this happened cause of me. It is time I finally told you about the war and our blood feud with all Moose kind"  

Little did they know as they were talking, they were being spied on.

As they drove towards the city they realized the entire forest around them was engulfed in flames. They realized they needed to get as quickly to deer park as possible in fear of what it has become.

On the outskirts of town they saw their beloved city in such a state of dismay they couldn't comprehend the site.

The city was on fire, everything they ever knew and kind of gave 2 shits about was gone. They both knew one thing and one thing only in the moment. For Christmas this year they would deck the halls with Moose antlers, don their moose killing apparel and kill every last mother fucker with horns. But Farlef had to know why this happened, why the Moose hated them so much.

"Dad I am all for commiting genocide again, especially after what these Moose Fuckers did to our home, our town but how did this all start?" "It is a long story but it started in 1941 ………………….