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copiousloverofcopia · 11 months ago

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🎄Hey there ghesties for some late Yuletide fun here is a little something!!! 🎄

We are back again for another story featuring the adorable Sister Saccharine and her beloved Copia! A little Yuletide story for my ghestie @sistersaccharine

Thank you so much for letting me continue creating Saccharine's story with you! I hope you and everyone else enjoys!!!!

Commissions are OPEN, please see pinned post for Carrd info!

The Dysfunctional Emeritus Christmas

Sister Saccharine takes a winter stroll when her fellow Sisters of Sin invite her to her first Yule celebration with the Emeritus family since her and Copia were wed. Shenanigans ensues when the family comes together in a way only an Emeritus dysfunctional Christmas could.

Also available HERE on AO3!

Read below!

The snow was glistening over the fields that once held flowers. Icicles firmly established along the branches of all the trees. And wicked chill took hold in the wind as Sister Saccharine walked along the path sitting along the edge of the grounds. The western woods, just beyond, like bare bones in the cold. Not a leaf to speak of as she heard the crows cawing in the air and noticed the family of little ruby-eyed rabbits. Their white fur barely visible as they huddled together beneath the root of a tree.

Saccharine bent down to greet them. Lifting the smallest one up in her soft mittens. Watching them warming their little body asked the yarn like a hug. Her own breath, visible in the blistering cold as she spoke.

“Oh, my little one. This must be your first winter here…poor thing. You must be so cold.” she cooed, holding him gently in her hands. Saccharine, taking a moment to think before being struck with a brilliant idea. “Here... hopefully this will help.” she told him, placing the bunny back with its family. Now covered by her sacrificed mittens, help to insulate the heat of their bodies from the bitter cold.

It made her smile to see them warmed by her gift. Despite the winter solstice having taken hold, Saccharine didn’t mind the cold. Managing somewhere to be warmed from within. Her heart, so full and her pink-tinted nose, kissed by winter, nestled against the fabric of her favorite coat. Saccharine contentedly took in a deep inhale. Breathing in the scent of Copia’s cologne, still lingering there from their shopping trip from the day before, as she continued her walk.

Nothing made her happier than to think of him. Her beloved husband, for only a few short months, but already a lifetime lived between them. Her thoughts were never far from him. The dear sister, unable to control the smile that reached her lips. His voice echoing sweet nothings in the forefront of her mind.

She had often thought of him when she was alone. Even in the times when only moments had passed since they’d been together. Today was a bit different, with her thoughts occupied by the weight of Yule this year. It was to be her first Yuletide with Copia as husband and wife. Her first time as a true part of the Emeritus family, and the thought of it filled her with so much joy—and weary.

She wanted to make a good impression on them. Hoping to consult with Ren, Secondo’s Prime Mover, and her friend for many years. She had been a great mentor to Saccharine since she first arrived at the Abbey. Surely, she would be able to empathize with her, guide Saccharine as to how she could settle the nervousness in the pit of her stomach. She knew that her friend would have the exact right thing to say to calm her. It wasn’t too long after that Saccharine swore she heard her name being called. Stopping a moment to shake off her confusion before hearing it once again.

“What are you doing out here in the cold, we’ve been looking all over for you?” Prime Mover Ren called over to her. Saccharine turned to see her friends approaching her in the snow. The lot of them, bundled up in their winter best and carrying cups of hot chocolate in their hands. The rich smell, catching Saccharine’s attention as they drew closer. She instantly perked up. Ren, quick to hand her the extra cup she was carrying as Nova and Knell sipped away from their own.

“I am sorry, I must have lost track of time.” she laughed nervously, taking her first sip from her cup. The taste of the warm chocolate with a hint of cinnamon, glorious on her tongue as it filled her mouth.

“I’m honestly shocked you’re not frozen solid.” remarked Sister Knell. “You…ah…not own a pair of gloves?” she continued, noticing Saccharine’s bare cold scorched hands.

“Oh I do…well did.” she laughed.

“Never mind that Saccharine, come to Yule tonight with us!” Nova beamed, so excited to be the one to invite her. The ghoulette’s tail, swishing happily from side to side as she awaited her answer.

“You mean the ministry gathering? Isn’t that tomorrow night?” she asked her.

“What she means…” Ren continued shaking her head, “that you and Copia need to come to Secondo and I’s suite this evening for Yule celebrations. You’re an Emeritus now. This time is just for the family. Plenty of Ministry celebrations for later.”

“Oh well of course, I am sure Copia would be thrilled.”

“Indeed, now let's get you back inside before you become a snowman.” Ren laughed, wrapping her arm around Saccharine as the four of them walked back to the Abbey.

Saccharine spent the rest of the day getting ready. Outfits tossed to every inch of her and Copia’s bedroom as she searched for the perfect thing to wear. Settling on an adorable black dress with matching shawl, similar to her husband’s former cassock. Sheer tights and the most adorable black boots with matching bows. The focus of her outfit, a new blue sapphire encrusted necklace. Carefully draped over her decolletage—-a gift that Copia couldn't resist giving her early.

He watched her from the doorway. A smile, pulling at the corners of his mouth as she turned back to face him. Holding out her arms and twisting around so he would get the idea of the flow of her dress.

“What do you think?”

“You look incredible dolcezza. Most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” he replied, his words sending a blush of pink over Saccharine’s cheeks. He quickly took her in his arms, hugging her close before planting a small kiss on her forehead.

“Think they’ll like it?” she asked him, the worry unable to be fully hidden within the tone of her voice. Copia tilted her chin up to face him.

“Saccharine, they are our best friends and family…they will love you even if you wore a potato sack to dinner.” he laughed, his wife giving him a playful tap to the chest.

“I know, I know. I just want to make a good impression; you know what I mean?”

“I know. This is perfect…you are perfect. I promise.” he assured her. Saccharine, hugging him once again. Gripping him so tight, never truly wanting to let him go. This lovable, silly man who always knew the right thing to say.

Finally, hours later, they had made it. The two of them standing in wait before the door of Secondo and Ren’s Papal suite after ringing the bell. “Are you ready amore?” Copia asked her, feeling her uneasily squeezing his hand.

“Ready.” she told him, taking a deep breath. Her nerves, on edge for what may come next. When the door opened, Saccharine was awestruck. The suite was lavishly decorated. All of the Yuletide trimmings on full display. Garland lining every surface, with bright warm lights that twinkled a delicate glow. Ornate holly wreaths, hung carefully on the walls and a sprig of mistletoe in every doorway. The beautiful glow of candles, serving to fill the room with a warm ambiance which complemented the scent of poinsettias, cinnamon, and pine.

It was clear to Saccharine that Prime Mover Ren had spared no expense when it came to Yule. After all, an Emeritus celebration was always a bit of a show, but somehow, she had managed to make it still feel cozy and quaint. The warmth and inviting nature of it, reminding Saccharine of the Christmases she had back at home. A bittersweet smile sweeping across her face just as Ren spoke.

“You know the party's ALL the way inside, right?” She laughed, catching Saccharine’s attention before Copia and her finally breached the threshold of the door. “Would you both be a dear and put these candies in the stockings for the children. I have been meaning too, but I am swamped in the kitchen with dinner. Primo has taken over and has been shooing everyone but me and Knell out all afternoon." Ren told them, handing over the sack of candies to Saccharine.

“Oh…why yes of course.” Saccharine smiled. The two of them took to the mantle located in the main parlor, placing little chocolates and peppermints in each of the little ones' stockings as they carried on.

“They are so small.” Copia remarked, sending a sweet glance her way. They were, and charming just as everything else and the look on her husband’s face made Saccharine wonder if their own mantle would be home to small stockings someday. It was a small moment between them that made her heart soar as she filled the stockings. When she went to open the last of them her eyes widened in surprise. There, all curled up together and sleeping peacefully in the bottom was little Gnocchi and Rigatoni. Copia took a look for himself, placing a finger over his lips, hushing the both of them before waking the mice.

“Sweet Lucifer Secondo the sweater looks just fine, stop fussing about it already.” Ren said as she reappeared to check on them. Secondo huffed and crossed his arms as Ren went on, rolling her eyes as she tapped Copia’s shoulder. “Papa, do you think you can help us with reaching for something in the kitchen?”

“Oh course, I will be right back.” he told Saccharine as they headed into the kitchen. It made Saccharine a bit nervous to be left on her own, especially since Secondo. She never was quite sure how to approach him. It was moments like this Saccharine knew having Copia by her side always made everything seem more pleasant and comfortable.

It was the first time she had been to any gathering as an official member of the Emeritus family. Trying her best to hide her anxiety behind a soft smile, she turned to face out into the belly of the room. Immediately taking note of Secondo sitting quietly in the middle of the sofa. The former Papa was serving as both a jungle gym and lion tamer for his many children as they chased each other around the room.

All of them were brimming with excitement at the sight of their gifts, devastated that they would have to wait until after dinner to open them. It was then she noticed that Secondo and Ren wore matching sweaters, both black with sparkling holly wreaths and pentagrams. Saccharine immediately went to cover her mouth. Hiding her giggle at his grumpy, yet proud papa disposition.

The two youngest of the children were playing with Nova on the floor beside the tree. The ghoulette tangled up in the tinsel like a kitten as little Lucian clapped away. Nova was always so good with the children. Her heart was so pure, one of the best friends Saccharine had ever had.

Maybe I can relax a bit after all, Saccharine thought to herself as she took a seat opposite the bunch. Secondo, sending her a knowing nod and a welcoming smile as they both watched Nova and the children play. Suddenly from the corner of her eye, Saccharine caught sight of Sister Knell peering out from behind the door frame, leading from the kitchen. The sister’s eyes, shifting around as she snuck Nova and the children some cookies.

It was amusing to see everyone together like this. The joy of the season, reminding Saccharine just how much she loved all her friends. When she felt she wouldn't be missed, she took her leave. Deciding to check on Copia as she politely dismissed herself. “I’m gonna go see how Copia is holding up.” she smiled as she headed to the kitchen.

Immediately as she walked inside, she saw Primo shooing Knell away from the counter. “Sorella go—go. I told you I can do it myself.” he respectfully snipped, stirring the gravy in the pot as Sister Ren began making the final touches to the pies.

“Just trying to help out Peepaw…don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Knell winked. Saccharine smiled softly at her. Knell was quite the character and even though they had become fast friends, Saccharine was sometimes unsure of how to read her. Primo must have sensed this. He, better than anyone able to pick up on Saccharine’s mood. Caring for her, as her own father would have in his stead.

“It’s alright piccola…you know she won’t bite. Well maybe?” Primo laughed as Knell shrugged, handing Nova another cookie, before the two of them disappeared into the dining room to help set up the table at Ren’s request.

“Agh…it's been like this all afternoon…” Ren began as she passed by Saccharine to grab the cinnamon, “...but at least Sec and her are no longer going at it.”

“We will celebrate small favors.” Primo laughed before taking a moment to pull the turkey from the oven. Filling the air with the most mouthwatering scent of thyme, rosemary, and sage.

“I personally find it rather amusing myself—-ow!” Terzo howled, getting his hand swatted for swiping a bit of the gravy on his fingers.

“Tieni le tue mani sporche fuori da quello stronzo, non è ancora finita.” Primo hissed, furrowing his brows and shaking his wooden spoon in his brother’s direction.

“We are ready for the food!” Nova announced as she and Knell walked back into the room. Nova, taking Terzo’s hand to kiss the sore spot before he continued.

“Best part is the sweaters.” Terzo snickered under his breath, both him and Nova trying to contain their amusement.

“Alright, alright that's enough…” Ren began, motioning for her and Primo to bring the rest of the food into the dinning room. “...I’m lucky I got him dressed at all this morning. I swear the man is determined to make his own Ministry little league.” she continued sending a playful wink to Saccharine.

“Dinner children, fratello!” Primo called out as they all began making their way to the dining room. Saccharine watched as the family all filed in, each of them taking their seats. Happy faces and rumbling tummies ready for a delectable meal. As she watched them, she felt the familiar weight of arms around her waist.

“While everything for dinner smells delicious…what I am most looking forward to is dessert.” Copia purred, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. Saccharine turned to face him, her cheeks flushed by his words. “Do you see what I see?” he asked her. His eyes, calling hers to follow as they both looked up above them in the archway to see the mistletoe hanging there.

“Oh Copia, I love you so much.” She told him, waiting for him to make the first move. Her lips anticipating the sweet press of his against her.

“Amore, there is no one I would rather kiss for the rest of my life than you. Sei la mia vita, mio mondo, mio tutto. ” he confessed, closing his eyes before kissing her passionately in the archway.

“Come on now you too, dinner is getting cold.” Laughed Terzo from across the room. Both Copia and Saccharine pulled apart, playfully smiling as they approached the table. Both of their hearts, pounding. Their hands still locked together as they took their seats.

The table was a sight to behold. Its length, filled with a delightful spread of savories and sweets. It was clear that Ren and Papa Primo had worked so very hard on it. Everything made their mouths water as they all began filling their plates with the bounty of food. Just as the last roll was passed and the rest of the turkey was carved, Primo began tapping at his glass of punch. Announcing a toast for the occasion.

“May I have all your attention please.” He began, waiting for all eyes to be upon him. Even the children stopped their chatter to heed Primo’s request. Himself, more of a grandfather to them than Nihil ever could be. They loved him so very much and listened to his every word as if it were gospel. “I want to take this moment to thank our beloved Prime Mover…and Secondo, for hosting us this Yule. Such a fine spread and bountiful celebration we have here indeed.”

“Oh It’s nothing.” Ren smiled coyly as the group all lifted their glasses of wine and punch in the air.

“I want you all to know that this year we have so much to be grateful for. Lucifer has bestowed upon us a multitude of dark blessings. It is at this time we remember that through him, we find what is truly the most important in life…and most of all this year he has blessed us with a new member to the Emeritus family—-Sister Saccharine.” Primo smiled, his eyes doing their best to conceal his tears, “We welcome you to this family with open arms and wish for you and Copia nothing but all the happiness the Morning Star can provide. Nema!”

“Nema!” Everyone cheered. Saccharine immediately felt the tears rolling down her cheeks. Copia, sending a squeeze of her hand before the two of them began staring into each other’s eyes. Saccharine, feeling so in love and loved by those around her.

“Here, Here! Now let's eat.” Secondo called out. All of them holding their glasses out to cheers before taking a drink. Just as the swig entered his mouth, Primo immediately spit out the punch in a comical spray to his left. Nova and Terzo, erupting with laughter at the other end of the table.

“Now that I think of it…maybe that second bottle was a bit too much.” Nova chuckled, knowing they had spiked the punch with a bit of Ghoulish rum. The whole of the room, even Primo, joined them in their amusement.

After dinner they had all gathered in the parlor. All of the children had unwrapped their presents so fast that the air filled with the sparkle of wrapping paper and ribbon. Terzo trying his best to assemble the dolls house he and Nova got little Marianna, only to have him snap the stairway while forcing the peg into the slot.

“They don't make these things to last, you know?” he nervously laughed.

“Well not when un pagliaccio such as yourself is in charge of building it.” Secondo barked, Terzo raising from the floor to meet his gaze. The two of them, quarreling like small children themselves while the real kids played, ignorant to their father and uncle’s antics, alongside them.

The night had been filled with so much charm and love. Of course Nova had gotten everyone the best gifts. Something she had a talent for, even making Secondo get choked up by his pair of platinum and emerald cufflinks. Surprised that she had remembered he'd lost his old ones quite some time ago.

After all the presents had been opened and everyone's stomachs settled, Prime Mover Ren and Sister Knell offered everyone a cup of hot chocolate. Ren, making sure she offered one to her husband, lest it find its way to his lap. Sister Saccharine had settled herself alongside Copia on the chaise. The two of them cuddled up as they listened to the crackling of the fire. The sound, just audible beyond the children's laughter.

Saccharine sighed. I don't believe I have ever had a Christmas as wonderful as this before, she thought. So excited that this would be the first of many wonderful Christmases spent at her husband's side. She sat quietly, her smile beginning to spread across her face without her realizing.

Copia took note, watching her as she took in the scene before them. Now more than ever, feeling like a true part of the Emeritus family. With all its dysfunction and chaos, but also its love and compassion. Wondering to herself how she could have ever felt nervous before as they continued to watch the children gleefully playing with their gifts. Copia took her hand in his, inspiring her to glance up at him. Tears, filling her eyes once more as they desperately tried to balance themselves along her lashes.

“Is everything alright principessa?” he asked her. Saccharine smiled, nuzzling her face against his warm chest as they cuddled together on the sofa.

“Everything is perfect…just perfect.”

Notes:

Tieni le tue mani sporche fuori da quello stronzo, non è ancora finita.- You keep your filthy mitts out of it stronzo, it's not done yet.

Sei la mia vita, mio mondo, mio tutto.- You are my life, my world, my everything.

un pagliaccio- clown

#Happy Yule!!!!#Merry Christmas a bit late lol #Copia x Saccharine #Papa Emeritus IV x Sister Saccharine #commission work #An Emeritus Christmas Story #copia #papa iv #papa emeritus iv #ren writes #ghost #the band ghost #ghost fic #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfics #ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fic #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost fanfiction

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olivewinterleaf · 2 years ago

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TALES OF NONAGON

Chapter 3

(The New Job)

The following morning, Humffrey Twink approached the door of the museum with a slight headache in one hand and his tatty old briefcase in the other. He pressed the buzzer to be allowed to enter.

Security Officer Blabulous Balustrade was on duty today and busy organising the hundreds of keys that were needed for the job of keeping the museum and its artefacts safe and secure. For the keys must be placed in the huge key cupboard in the correct order or the world would come to an end. Balustrade’s yellow moustache bristled with scrutiny before finally allowing Twink in.

“Good morning Mr Twink, how are you today?”

“Not very well, I’m afraid.”

“Oh dear. I heard about your - what should I call it - ‘promotion’,” Balustrade whispered, discretion being part of the job.

“Quite, quite, quite.”

And with those words, Humffrey Twink shuffled reluctantly towards his newly allocated office, downwards, via a series of dusty staircases and cramped, mouldy old rooms in the nether regions of the oldest part of the building.

Behind his spectacles, Humffrey’s eyes were slightly watery. He sat indignantly, looking around the three walls of his new office. It had only three walls due to the fact that the room wasn’t really an office at all. It was in fact a kind of end-of-the-corridor arrangement.

A small desk had been allotted to him, accompanied by a rather hard old wooden chair. There was little room for anything else and so piles of folders were relegated to the right-hand corner of the desk, invading the floor underneath.

There seemed to be an indeterminate draught that made the corridor especially cold. Humffrey Twink rubbed his hands together to get some warmth but to no avail. How he wished he had a hot water bottle. But, of course, they had been made illegal to protect the livelihood of the local sock manufacturers and allied industries.

In the end, he had to resort to woolly mittens and eventually, a scarf too. He struggled to leaf through the pile of documents in front of him, most of which pertained to Pork-Rind’s Glorious Plan.

Various committees were in the process of forming, accreting out of nothing. The Glorious Plan Executive Team, the Museum Effective Functioning Team, the Funding Elevation Committee, the Building Direction-Finding Committee... The list was endless. It became apparent that Twink had been appointed to a number of them. He read the following memo:

...As a result of the study being conducted by the consultant firm POSITIVE CONFLICT, the new Conversion Refinements and Adjustments Panel - CRAP - has been created by our Supreme Director, Dr Hector Pork-Rind. He will personally select each member, and he may expand, revise, and reconstitute its components at any time to suit his needs.

‘The role of CRAP is to improve communication efficiency, efficiency of communications, effectiveness, culture and morale in the context of the other initiatives being put into place and placed in situ and situated into place, in preparation for the Glorious Plan.

‘CRAP will develop proposals, propose the implements, implement the proposals and achieve resource-neutralised outcomes in the light of this ambitious plan and its significant constraints and limits on resources and resource limits. It will also propose work plans, plan work proposals, prioritisation, resourcesification and methodification of work, deliverables and deadlines and encourage positive teamwork. Anyone not being positive will be reported to CRAP and be made to wear the red hat of cheerfulness. CRAP arrangements that allocate responsibilities with accountability, capacity and organisational learning, a range of packages, packages of range, change communications...

Humffrey Twink found himself lost in a soup of pointless verbiage. However, there was one piece of information that was most irritating: a new post of director of administrative interaction had apparently been created. It was obvious this was to be his replacement...

With a sharply-tailored grey suit, metallic-grey hair slicked back and a grey complexion to match, the new Director of Administrative Interaction, Gravel Retrench, entered his newly appointed office from which he would administer.

His grey eyes narrowed with disapproval and he commanded, to random members of staff, that the desk be moved so that it was in the exact centre of the room. Once this had been achieved, he demanded to be left undisturbed.

The door was closed. Retrench knelt down and began to draw lines on the floor with a piece of chalk.

When he had applied the appropriate mystical symbol, he took out a small, heavy pebble from the inside pocket of his jacket. It had a metallic appearance and parts of the pebble glowed faintly at regular intervals.

Retrench sat down and placed the pebble on the empty desk. The pebble glowed at him. He leaned back into the deep leather office chair, placing his arms onto the armrests in a precise manner. He stared continually at the pebble, which by now, was glowing all over. His eyelids drooped into a trance-like state and his body began to tremble for what seemed to be an eternity of spasms.

It was now twilight. Seemingly having recovered from his self-induced seizure, Retrench opened a drawer in his desk and retrieved a pile of small coloured objects that resembled jellybeans, placing them in a row on the desk. Retrench pointed his pebble at each jellybean as he counted them one by one, adding new ones where ever he felt appropriate, and removing others, their fate to be ultimately ingested...

All the visitors had gone and Fligbert Bimblecrumb had one more task to do before going home to his beloved wife. He took one of the silk-lined baskets from the pile in the corner of his research room and made his way to the Violet Gallery, which housed antique musical instruments.

He was about to unlock the now locked room with his allotted master key, but noticed that one of the other keys, that was supposed to be in his possession, had gone missing. Blabulous Balustrade won’t be pleased, he thought.

In any case, Fligbert entered the Violet Gallery. He unlocked one of the cabinets and stood for a moment, breathing in the fragrance that wafted out. It was the faint nutty smell due to the wood used for the antique gladiolins. It was a particular feature of gladiolins, in fact.

He removed the gladiolin he was interested in, and placed it gently in the padded basket. Then he removed its bow and nestled it next to the gladiolin before closing the cabinet. He took great pains to make sure he had locked it, and the room. He returned to his research room and prepared the gladiolin for a craftsman, who was interest in its measurements and would be attending early the next morning.

The following morning, Pork-Rind was in a buoyant mood. He was to be interviewed by the Nonagon Orator newspaper. His picture was to be taken too and he liked nothing better than to be the centre of attention.

The Nonagon Orator’s reporter was ushered into Pork-Rind’s office by one of his new and many administrative assistants.

Pork-Rind began his carefully composed statement: “I truly believe that the purpose of a museum is to preserve, display, educate and above all to entertain. We want to break away from the elitism associated with the university and bring in a broader audience. And, with that remit in mind, I am going to create a world-class museum. The plan involves building 90 new galleries, conservatorial rooms, educatorial studios and new-fangled environmental controls, to allow the most rare and fragile artefacts to be displayed. In order to do this, it is necessary to restructure the current building in order to modernise and reorganise the exhibition spaces-”

The reporter interrupted him, “And this means major demolition work?”

“Of course. This can’t be helped, as the current arrangement of galleries is inadequate. We have to think of the future needs of the museum... and of its visitors, of course. This is a major redevelopment to build on its strengths as a world-class museum. At the same time, the remaining building will be undergoing a program of refurbishment and re-organisation. The architectural firm, ARCH-ITECT, has created a design to transform the museum for the new century. The galleries will feature a new display strategy, presenting visitors with a broader overview of the collections.”

“Will there be any redundancies in view of the fact that the museum will temporarily lose most of the current exhibition space?”

Pork-Rind snarled, briefly twitching his snout indignantly. He waved his hand as though this was an inconsequential issue. “Several gallery attendants are either due to retire or on short-term contracts that are coming to an end... ahem,” he spouted as quickly as he could, adding, “Some objects will be temporarily taken off display to ensure their protection...”

Pork-Rind then continued to drone on for a considerable period of time, about the purpose of museums in the modern world and how he was to play a central role in seeing this project through to the end, before the reporter was finally released.

It was a dark and stormy burp. Stinkleton resumed slurping tea from his enormous white enamelled mug and dunking regulation biscuits too, while casually leafing through the Nonagon Scandal: a popular newspaper with the attendant classes and the lowly sister paper to the far more posh Nonagon Orator.

There were several interesting stories:

Local MP caught fiddling with his paper clips. He denies the charges...

A small hole had been discovered in the sky by a series of non-existent telescopes. Professor Quadrillion Bit of the Department of Obscure Physics, Imperial University of Nonagon said: “The power of such a method could not be underestimated.”...

Necrotising Fax Machine would be playing at the Appillow Theatre, despite complaints from local residents...

The Nonagon Bus Co. had decided to withdraw the number 9 bus route to End-of-Rainbow, as it had proved uneconomical to continue to run it without heavy subsidies. This decision was not taken lightly...

A herd of midget unicorns had apparently settled on the outskirts of the north of the city...

Lisa Contraflow admits to breast extensions...

A new specimen would soon be arriving at the Naturally Historical Museum. An Orbisaur skeleton, believed to have been full of gas and float like a balloon when alive, in the Megalozoic era...

After a series of lesser, intermittent burps, Stinkleton suddenly choked.

“’Ere, ’ave a look at this!” he managed to splutter out, between coughs.

Scarletina, an attendant usually in the Western Galleries, sashayed across the teapot room to have a look at the newspaper, her slick bob swishing from side to side, red like a vintage tomato.

“That’s outrageous!” she screamed, from her heavily red-lipsticked mouth, while simultaneously pointing at the article with a long painted red fingernail.

By now, a herd of attendants had gathered at the waterhole that was gossip.

Attendant Boil’s face had become mauve with indignation. “We demand to know what’s going on!” he cried in his gruff voice.

The Museum of Artefactual Objects suddenly found itself unable to open to the public, as the attendants staged an impromptu protest that demanded the presence of the new director of administrative interaction.

Down through the winding staircase and the shuffling rooms, Gravel Retrench adjusted his grey tie and smoothed his sleek metal-grey hair back, before entering the teapot room - once he had found it, that is.

The door opened...

“Shh! It’s the new administrator...” announced Sneerpot.

“What exactly is the problem here?” Retrench sounded good-natured and non-threatening and smiled a comforting smile.

Boil, his face having now turned red, took a deep breath before speaking, “We, the gallery attendants, demand to know if we are to be made redundant?!”

Retrench calmly introduced himself while simultaneously rubbing something that was in his trouser pocket. He sat down amongst the squabbling attendants as they fell silent, mesmerised by this figure in grey, who smiled at them so kindly.

Retrench half chuckled, “Where did you get that idea?”

“It’s in the papers, right here.” Stinkleton pointed to his Nonagon Scandal.

“So don’t tell us it’s not true, because it’s in the papers!” added Sneerpot, as he flaunted the newspaper in front of Retrench’s face, mockingly.

Retrench chuckled, “They’ve obviously made a mistake then.”

“For Gad’s sake man, Pork-Rind’s hinting at it!” exclaimed Boil, his face having turned mauve as he pointed furiously at the newspaper.

“I can assure you that no one is being made redundant,” replied Retrench. And in a soothing voice added: “Indeed, we will be remaining open throughout this redevelopment and if anything, we will be requiring your expertise during this time and when the project is finished. You’ll be sent to training courses and monthly meetings will be arranged so that we can improve our service to the public. If you have any ideas to discuss, then do note them down.”

And with that, the attendants were more than happy to return to their duties, persuaded, as they were, that all was well.

Retrench slowly drifted away from the teapot room, now furiously rubbing the object in his pocket. He had far more important matters to attend to.

Retrench had persuaded Pork-Rind to hold the meeting in his own, newly arranged office. In fact, it was essential that the meeting be held in Retrench’s own office, otherwise he could not keep control of the proceedings. He had especially prepared it after all. The ritual he had performed had involved certain procedures, which for the moment, could not have been enacted easily in any other room without interruption from other members of staff.

Retrench took out an object from his pocket. It was the metallic pebble. He placed it carefully under his desk and made sure that Pork-Rind would sit exactly two footlings away from the front of the desk, by strategically placing a seat at that point. He then slid into his own leather chair and waited for Dr Pork-Rind.

Pork-Rind had finished playing with his collection of antique snout embellishments - being so erudite was hard work. The door opened just as he arrived, and he was immediately drawn into Retrench’s lair.

“What an interesting design you have on the floor, is it Bislamic? Pork-Rind pointed to the centre of the floor, where a large complicated nine-pointed star-shaped pattern had been, by now, permanently installed, and within which the desk had been placed. “I wonder if we could incorporate it into the refurbishments?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it...” mumbled Retrench before reminding him that they were there to discuss certain issues. He pointed to the seat.

Pork-Rind duly sat down, his snout twitching. “It’s so exciting! But I’m finding I can’t decide on the design of the new galleries.”

“May I recommend a mock gallery to test out new schemes?”

“What a wonderful concept!”

“Think of all the fun you’ll have trying out different ideas.”

There was a pause as Retrench waited for Pork-Rind’s eyes to take on that far-away look associated with the mesmerised.

Retrench smiled a satisfied smile and spoke: “As you know, CRAP has been created and needs to have a cross-section of employees to represent each department. Unfortunately, this does include the attendant classes.

Pork-Rind snorted, “Not that Pluchette woman!”

“No. I recommend Seed. He’s stupid enough to take it seriously. I mean, easily persuaded of the illusion of empowerment this committee is supposed to engender.”

“Yes. Seed...” Pork-Rind’s voice sounded monotonous.

Retrench narrowed his eyes and smiled. “I’ve had an idea that could be useful for running the museum at a lower cost. Would you like to hear it?”

Pork-Rind nodded his head slowly, his eyes fixed upon Retrench’s countenance.

“Very good, Dr Pork-Rind. As you know, the university is implementing a new staff structure. As a cost cutting exercise, we could announce a new grade. Of course this would only affect those in the lower echelons...”

Pork-Rind snarled, “Yes, the lower echelons with their shabby red blazers...”

“There, there. I know how they offend your sense of aesthetics,” smiled Retrench. “Of course this is bound to cause a lot of trouble. I recommend we create a new position. Something that will act as a buffer to absorb all our little problems,” he added.

“What a wonderful idea! Why haven’t we got rid of that woman?!”

“Exactly. That’s what the buffer is for. We could call it ‘Gallery Facilitator Manager’. You must remember these were all your ideas. Well, I think that’s all. For now.

Retrench raised his hand, as if to command that Pork-Rind should leave and shooed him out.

As Pork-Rind left, he shouted, “And get rid of that woman!”

Madame Pluchette was roaming the building with a very important-looking briefcase. It was full of very important-looking documents, regarding various ideas she had had over the years to improve the running of the museum, and of course, her part in those possible improvements. It was what she deserved after all. She was not like the other attendants. She was a lady and was merely waiting to be promoted to a more managerial position as befitted a lady such as herself.

Madame Pluchette then, made her way to the director of administrative interaction.

Gravel Retrench had only just recovered from another seizure, the small pebble merely glinting every now and then. Madame Pluchette suddenly barged into his office, having only knocked very lightly, for she was a determined lady.

“Good afternoon, Administrator of Interaction,” Madame Pluchette fawned uncontrollably, while simultaneously retrieving a file of papers from her briefcase. She placed it on his desk, disturbing the carefully arranged row of jellybeans.

Retrench narrowed his eyes and recalled Pork-Rind’s words. He quickly retrieved the pebble.

Madame Pluchette continued: “I have decided that we should be allowed to rotate in the galleries and I have decided that this is the best way of the doings.”

She opened her file and presented her strategy, in her inimitable Foreign way.

“The attendants will be placing in groupings, which of course I, a lady, shall be overlording. Each groupings will be rotating around their gallery groupings. This allows each groupings of groupings to resolve their own skedule. It is entirely up to the members of each groupings when to go to the teapots and how often they rotate, and also how to deal with absent attendants. For example in the table below blah blah blah...”

Retrench soon tired of this and his eyes glazed over accordingly. He nodded meaningfully now and then for effect. She finished, full of self-satisfaction at the prospect of possible promotion. Retrench exhaled with relief.

Madame Pluchette closed the door behind her and took the key that had been left in the lock. She felt it was a security risk.

The jellybeans were once again at the mercy of Retrench.

The following morning there was a buzz in the teapot room, as the attendants gathered around the newly installed notice board. All part of the improved communication scheme. Indeed, several memos had appeared.

Memo number one - and one might say the most significant memo of all - was the Official Announcement of the Glorious Plan.

Heads tilted this way and that, as the attendants tried to make sense of a number of fancy diagrams and complicated schedules for which one needed to be a genius to interpret. So it was just as well that by strange coincidence there happened to be one amongst the attendants.

Groin was an obnoxious git by all accounts. On this occasion, he might be a useful obnoxious git, so everyone waited for his explanation.

But Groin was too busy making suggestive remarks aimed at Scarletina, involving satin knickers and whatnots, best left to the imagination.

Memo number two announced the creation of a new committee called CRAP. A number of attendants were puzzling over what it all meant. But the most puzzling thing of all was how Seed had managed to get himself selected as a member representing the attendant class.

Seed was an officious git by all accounts. On this occasion, he was as useful as he’d ever been, considering his partiality for exotic herbal fumes and alcoholic concoctions of a dubious nature.

Having interpreted his new appointment as an acknowledgement of his talents, he now regarded himself as exempt from the more tedious tasks. He would need time to produce documents and the like, for all the meetings he would be attending. After all, the supreme director had chosen him to join his special committee, so he deserved special treatment.

Madame Pluchette’s flabber had been gasted. Why had she not been chosen?

Memo number three announced the creation of a new position to be called ‘Gallery Facilitator Manager’. Madame Pluchette’s eyes lit up. Perhaps the supreme director had greater plans for her, she thought.

The members of the interview panel included: Gravel Retrench, a female member of staff from the university’s personnel department and Dr Pork-Rind, who insisted on being present.

The long list of what comprised the job description, had all the hallmarks of the administrative jobs no one else wanted to do and in the end very few candidates presented themselves for the new position. In any case, Retrench already had one particular candidate in mind, chosen for his own peculiar attributes.

Wearing his best three-piece pinstriped suit of clothes, which happened to be bright turquoise, the prime candidate - Mr Myrmidon Filibuster-Fartlet - was instructed to enter the room, which as it happened, was draped in vivid red, thus rendering him in constant battle with the walls. The members of the interview panel tried not to look, but were somehow drawn into the dazzling vibrations playing on the back of their eyes.

Personnel spoke first, while simultaneously squinting: “Sit down, Mr Filibuster-Fartlet. We’re going to ask you some questions first and then we’re going to give you a little test...”

Filibuster-Fartlet looked startled, before noticing the strange design that covered the floor. Not unlike the one in Retrench’s office, actually.

After a series of dreary questions along the lines of: “What do you think you could bring to the job of Gallery Facilitator Manager, Mr Filibuster-Fartlet?”

And replies along the lines of: “I would implement smiling training. One cannot emphasise the importance of smiling...”

After a few minutes of this, Personnel’s face froze into a permanent smile.

At that point Gravel Retrench intervened by asking: “Mr Filibuster-Fartlet... Do you spread your butter evenly over your toast or does it undulate?”

Filibuster-Fartlet was puzzled but assumed that this was some new kind of psychometric test and answered, “Evenly, Administrator Retrench,” in a deep voice as though each word was about to be preceded by a belch.

“Good, good, good,” replied Retrench before continuing, “and with regard to your big toes - which one is the largest, left or right?”

Filibuster-Fartlet looked flustered. He hesitated for a moment and answered, “They’re both the same size. I think.”

“You’re not sure?” Retrench feigned surprise, but in reality he couldn’t care less.

“I... I think perhaps the left one...”

Retrench frowned for effect.

By now Dr Pork-Rind’s face had a rigid grin too.

While Myrmidon Filibuster-Fartlet was made to endure another hour of irrelevancies, outside waited the next candidate: a lady with a very important-looking briefcase. It was full of very important-looking documents.

His obviously dyed wavy purple quiff slanted jauntily to one side, as his orange scarf flew dramatically in the wind. It was Myrmidon Filibuster-Fartlet’s first day as gallery facilitator manager. He minced briskly towards the museum steps, the orange brogues he wore bent back from many years of use and his crumpled, ill-fitting bright turquoise pinstriped suit tightly bound across his chest.

His huge face loomed large over the absurdly high desk as he tried to gain the attention of Bulbous Bluster. It was the sort of face that one, invariably, would like to punch, simply on the grounds that it always loomed far too close for anyone’s comfort. Bulbous’s whiskers twitched, irately.

“I am the new Gallery Facilitator Manager, Myrmidon Filibuster-Fartlet,” he said proudly.

“Ah yes, ‘Mr’ Filibuster-Fartlet,” replied Bulbous, with a sarcastic tone. He knew his sort and no mistake.

At that point Retrench appeared, as if from a stiff breeze and showed the new recruit to his office.

It was a small office. A very small office. But Filibuster-Fartlet saw this as only the beginning of his new illustrious career in museum management.

Filibuster-Fartlet’s first task was to attend the new monthly meeting with the gallery attendants. Gravel Retrench would also be there and he saw this as an opportunity to impress. But first, he had to find the teapot room.

As directed by Bilious Bilberry, he made his way down the winding staircase.

But soon he found himself lost, as the staircase began to slowly twist around so that Filibuster-Fartlet was uncertain whether he was going up or down, never mind left or right. But it was getting rather gloomy and soon he would not be able to see anything but the faint glow of the penumbra. He gulped as he bravely continued down. Or was it up? It was then that the staircase ended abruptly.

Filibuster-Fartlet found himself in a long murky corridor. There were various assorted doors along it, but there was no indication as to where they might lead, so that he had no idea which one might be the teapot room. He looked over his shoulder where the corridor stretched into the distance. There too, the doors were just as anonymous. He looked forward again, and had the strange feeling that the doors had somehow moved from their previous position. He looked back, and the feeling was even more acute.

It was no use. He would have to open each door to find which one was the teapot room.

He walked slowly along the corridor until he reached the first door. With trepidation, he turned the doorknob and slowly opened the door.

It was a large, dimly lit cupboard full of grotty old mops and other miscellaneous cleaning equipment. For some reason, a wave of heat radiated from the compact room. There was also an unpleasant smell. It was faint and rather like thoroughly boiled, old potatoes. An invisible cloud of dust settled in his lungs as he breathed it in. He swiftly shut the door.

The next door had been opposite. But in the time that Filibuster-Fartlet took to investigate the contents of the first door, it had moved slightly, so that it was no longer directly opposite, but about a feetling away. He tried this door, but decided against going in as he found it led to another long, dimly lit corridor, with no apparent purpose or termination. He quickly shut the door and moved to the next available door. Unfortunately, this turned out to be the smelly cupboard again.

A mixture of frustration and panic set in, as he tried the next few doors, none of which were for the teapot room.

Numerous cupboards of varying smelliness and corridors of pointlessness later, he opened the next room.

It was not the teapot room. However, it was a large room full of timber and sawdust. There was a range of complicated machinery and cutting tools emitting vibrations and the occasional horrendous noise. Fluorescent strips lit the room. At the bottom of the room, there were three men dressed in dungarees and up to their eyes in safety gear. They seemed to be examining something when they noticed the intruder.

“Oi! You’re not allowed in ’ere. ’Elf and safety, ’elf and safety!” they cried out in unison. “This is the Department of Fixings and we’re the only authorised personnel allowed in ’ere!”

“But I’m the new Gallery Facilitator Manager, Myrmidon Filibuster-Fartlet!” he squeaked.

“Well you’re lost. This is the Department of Fixings and you shouldn’t be in ’ere without the official safety gear,” piped Plumbob, the man in charge, along with Hacksaw and Bracket, his subordinates. Though one could hardly tell the difference between the three. They had such a similar appearance: namely short, shaven-headed with lamb chops and matching dungarees each stuffed with a paunch. Goggles, gauntlets and heavy boots, completed the look.

Filibuster-Fartlet’s face was vintage tomato red with frustration. “But where’s the attendants’ teapot room?!”

“’Ere show ’im the teapot room...” Plumbob gave the order to Bracket, and Bracket duly obliged.

Bracket took Filibuster-Fartlet back to the entrance of the workshop, where he carefully scrutinised the doors. “See that door over there? Keep your eye on it. Don’t take your eyes off it for an instant, ’cause it’ll move.”

“Ah, there you are, Fartlet!” cried Retrench. “This is your new Gallery Facilitator Manager, Mr Fartlet,” he announced to the staff.

“Ahem, Filibuster-Fartlet, sir,” he corrected, while almost tripping over a large, mysteriously intrusive box that dominated the shabby room. He quickly sat on one of the vacant chairs.

Boil barked, “Not there man! That’s a top table seat!” His face having turned maroon, he explained, “Only old battleaxe attendants sit there!”

A red-faced Filibuster-Fartlet found himself another seat and eagerly prepared to take notes.

Retrench cleared his throat before speaking: “These monthly meetings are being introduced in order to discuss, in consultation with the gallery attendants, improvements to services for the public. With this in mind I am arranging to have a new-fangled processing engine to be installed in order to improve communication.” He spoke in a sympathetic tone that was not perhaps entirely sincere. In any case, no one seemed to notice.

Noises of approval and excitement were expressed all round. Retrench smiled slyly, pleased with himself at this opportunity for appeasement. At this point he announced that he had arranged training for the attendants, while carefully omitting the nature of the training. Nevertheless, this pleased the attendants even more and another round of noises of approval circulated the teapot room.

Except Madame Pluchette, who had taken her failure to be appointed the new ‘Gallery Facilitator Manager’ rather personally.

“Mr Retrench, have you even considered my ideas for the rotatings?” she demanded forcefully.

Retrench grimaced in an attempt to smile. “Mr Filibuster-Fartlet will look into it. In the meantime I would like you to... take the minutes.”

“Yes. But I have also the ideas about how we should name galleries by nombers...”

Retrench reached for the pebble in his pocket. “Madame Pluchette! I would like you to take the minutes.” He rubbed the pebble furiously.

For a few moments, they were engaged in a silent battle of wills as they glared at each other. Slowly, Madame Pluchette’s body became rigid, face twitching imperceptibly: an unfortunate temporary effect of Retrench’s control, which couldn’t be helped.

Seed, with a crazed, herbalised look in his eyes, abruptly stood up, having decided to present his own agenda. His sweaty, tremulous hands holding sheets of paper that he began handing out, as he nervously introduced his ideas.

“I think I speak for all of us...”

“No you don’t,” muttered Sneerpot as he giggled to himself.

Seed ignored him and continued: “...when I say that a number of improvements could be made. Not least in communication. CRAP is seeking to improve this.” He droned on for a while about tourism before moving on to signage, amongst other things.

“Yes, yes, yes, get on with it man,” having now turned blue, Boil was losing patience.

Seed continued: “Ahem. Attendants have no access to a telephonical receiver, I understand that Mr Retrench is going to look into special portable communications for some of the attendants.”

“Some?!” cried the other attendants, indignantly.

A series of petty squabbles followed, mainly regarding who was entitled to these special portable receivers. And whether it should be Madame Pluchette taking minutes, as Seed himself felt he should take the minutes as he was a member of a committee and therefore superior.

Then the cleaner, Mrs Foinnel, barged in, orange hair aflame, demanding to know who had taken her keys.

Accusations flew this way and that, until Retrench waved his hand and muttered something that sounded like an incantation but was too unintelligible to be heard clearly. However, it had the desired effect and impressed Filibuster-Fartlet no end. In fact, for a moment he looked on admiringly as Retrench prepared to speak once more.

Retrench cleared his throat. “As I was saying, and with reference to Seed’s concerns, one of the results of the survey conducted by POSITIVE CONFLICT, was a feeling of disenfranchisement due to lack of informativeness. That is why CRAP was formed and why I am installing a new-fangled processing engine. All CRAP proceedings will be regularly available so you can access this whenever you want.” He then added sotto voce, “when provided with the secret password, of course.”

Then he continued: “Another way to gain more information and get to know your colleagues in other departments, is by attending one of Supreme Director Pork-Rind’s special receptions. The latest information tool created by CRAP, ‘CRAP NEWS’, will be found on the notice board. The notice board itself will be re-organised to make it easier to find new notices.”

Madame Pluchette immediately volunteered for this. And so did Seed. In a brilliant stroke of managerial genius, and before another row could ensue, Retrench commanded that Madame Pluchette be in charge of the organisation of the general news section of the notice board, and that Seed should be in charge of the CRAP section of the notice board.

Filibuster-Fartlet was most impressed as he took notes, furiously.

Retrench continued, regarding various gallery refurbishments that would take place in the parts of the building that were not being deconstructed. They would therefore need to be reached via a series of incongruous scaffolding tunnels and precariously placed planks.

An air of malevolence seeped into the room, unnoticed by the attendants, self-absorbed as they were...

Filibuster-Fartlet was brimming with ideas. He had somehow managed to find the bottom of the staircase and make his way back to his office. He now sat in front of his very own new-fangled processing engine, furiously translating his furiously taken notes into a report that would impress Gravel Retrench:

...The gallery attendant meeting of Moonday, 33rd of Sevenember, demonstrated how the department is not functioning as a team. As Gallery Facilitator Manager, I am therefore putting forward a few proposals:

Number 1. As part of their training, the gallery attendants should be sent on a team-building day entitled - Smile! It’s a Wonderful Job.

Number 2. To reinforce this, the gallery attendants who cannot smile (for whatever reason) should also be sent on the Smiling Training course.

Number 3. That the role of the gallery attendant should be re-examined and reassessed in preparation for the culmination of the Glorious Plan.

Number 4. I believe that the role should be customer service orientated rather than security related. With this in mind, I propose that the job title should also be changed to something like ‘Visitor Welcoming Oracle’ or ‘Gallery Felicitations Conveyancer’, to reflect this new role...

Filibuster-Fartlet was looking forward to presenting his ideas.

It was late in the evening and Retrench opened a small window in his office, before pointing his metallic pebble towards the sky, in the general direction of some obscure astronomical feature. He glared at it for a few minutes with concentration and it began to glow, such that the room lit up brightly. Retrench began to mumble an incantation over and over until his command was answered. Through the window, entered a large furry moth, soon followed by more moths eager to occupy the space around the glowing pebble. Retrench examined each moth closely before dispatching the squadron to target the room each one was to occupy...

The following morning Retrench was still slumped in his office chair, having remained immobile with exhaustion the entire night. He slowly moved, pained as he was by the effort. His skin had greyed further and had become rather dry in appearance. He adjusted his grey tie and reached out for the pebble on his desk. Nestled in the palm of his hand, it began to glow and soon the visions appeared in a pool of light floating mystically above the pebble, the images distorted, as though flattened.

Nevertheless, through the pebble, a moth’s eye view of the museum unfolded...

A large nostril hovered into view. It was Dr Dyspepsia Horsenffiffin. She appeared to be examining a broken piece of Southern relic with a magnifying glass. She gently swept away more dust with a small brush. Another new detail emerged from the surface of the artefact. Large prominent teeth appeared as she smiled to herself and made some brief notes.

The image faded from the pebble and another moth’s view opened.

Gallery Attendant Oleander Diddly was supposed to be in the Pink Gallery but was scurrying down towards the absurdly high desk where Security Officer Bilious Bilberry was sitting, reading the Nonagon Scandal, even though reading was forbidden while on duty. Retrench made a note of it. In any case, it appeared as though she was in a panic over something. This was her normal state of mind, and it was usually over some key or other, or some door or other she shouldn’t or couldn’t lock or unlock. She was Diddlybird. The main attributes of which is being small and of a nervous disposition.

In yet another moth’s eye view... Groin was sitting at the small desk in the corner of his empty gallery with a faraway look on his face. He seemed to be incessantly fidgeting with something under the desk. Retrench was intrigued and commanded a closer look. The moth duly obliged...

Groin’s eyes became fixed. A haze of lurid visions and imaginings swamped his mind, brought on by the smoothness of the material that he was fondling under the gallery desk. It was a pair of ladies knickers he had hidden in a shopping bag; their satin smoothness was more than he could resist. He slowly undid his trousers and slid his satin-enveloped hand down. For a moment, he appeared to be frozen in a wave of erotic delights as he began hurriedly manipulating the contents of his trousers even more incessantly... But was then inconvenienced by the appearance of a visitor in the gallery.

Retrench swiftly moved to another moth.

Stinkleton was scratching his plump and smelly arse as he was poised to sit on the toilet. It was evident that he needed to rotate his underwear with greater frequency...

Retrench had had enough of spying, for the moment. Chaos would soon reign, which would suit his purpose. Besides Filibuster-Fartlet had requested a meeting.

Filibuster-Fartlet walked into the exalted Mr Retrench’s office to discuss his report. He sat down at the seat that had been strategically placed centrally within the complicated star-shaped pattern dominating the floor.

“What an interesting design you have on the floor, is it Bislamic?” asked Filibuster-Fartlet.

Retrench curled his lip and muttered, “Something like that,” while shuffling random papers on his desk. “I’ve been reading your report with great interest, Mr Fartlet-”

“Filibuster-Fartlet.”

Retrench smiled stiffly before continuing, “Of course, Filibuster-Fartlet...” He paused and watched as his subordinate gradually fell from mere thrall, to under his spell.

Filibuster-Fartlet, looked into his eyes, grey as they were, an endless spiral of greyness...

“Now Fartlet...” Retrench smiled to himself. “I want you to, um... remove your trousers.”

“Yes, sire,” Filibuster-Fartlet instantly obliged. Not only that, he also simultaneously removed his underpants. Either that, or he had neglected to put any on.

Retrench then ordered him to bend down on all fours. Filibuster-Fartlet was again compelled to follow his command, though apparently gladly. Retrench, laughed maniacally. Then opened a draw and took out a pile of jellybeans. On a whim, he placed them carefully in a smiley-face formation upon Filibuster-Fartlet’s unusually hairy bottom and chuckled to himself...

Elsewhere, Seed was busily arranging and rearranging the section devoted to CRAP on the notice board, which by now had acquired a swathe of memos. Sneerpot perused the said notice board over Seed’s shoulder.

Sneerpot read the notices out loud with interest: “CRAP will be producing a feedback sheet as a platform for ideas. It is currently being designed.”

Sneerpot chuckled. “What an achievement, eh? Seed? I can hardly contain my joy at this news!” His chuckle having now mutated into such a guffaw that he could barely sup from his mug of tea. “Oooh, and a newsletter is coming. I can hardly wait! Oh dear, the format has to be decided yet. That should take a few years then. What a pity, we were so looking forward to it.” He continued to chuckle between slurps. “But wait there’s more,” he continued to read: “The Supreme Director’s Special Receptions. A member of staff from each department will be invited to meet and discuss improvements to staff facilities and training. The next reception will be on the third of Octember...”

“So we’re a department now?” scoffed Sneerpot.

Seed’s jaw was clenched under the strain of mockery as the rest of the attendants rolled around with laughter. Until other more unpleasant memos were noticed:

The current lighting in the basement (including the teapot room) is to be replaced by a string of economising bulbs, in the shape of the supreme director’s profile, naturally. Of course, it will take several weeks before the special bulbs can be installed and so the entire area will be plunged into the faint glow of the penumbra for that period. This cannot be helped.

It has been decided that the attendant’s blazers are too grotty and must be destroyed in the incinerator. Attendant Classes (chiefly gallery attendants) are reminded that it is a condition of employment that they wear the temporary uniform that will be provided along with the new, ridiculously incongruous identity badge. These should by now have arrived in a large box...

So that was what the large, mysteriously intrusive box in the middle of the teapot room was. The laughter on the attendants’ faces soon dissolved, as the thought of a winter’s day without a jacket became a reality with a pile of flimsy, bright orange waistcoats being passed around. These were followed by a mound of large white rectangles that were the identity badges, each with a heavy chain by which to hang the said rectangle from the neck.

The attendants returned to their respective galleries feeling somewhat deflated.

There was one more memo on the notice board, which failed to be noticed due to the fact that it was in considerably smaller - and indeed, fainter print than the rest of the announcements. It seemed to concern a staff reorganisation of some kind. Changes in remuneration were mentioned.

Humffrey Twink tried to spend as little time in his new office-cum-corridor-cum-freezer as possible. Nevertheless, he had taken to wearing fleecy-lined trousers and fleecy vests underneath his normal clothes, which served to emphasise his cuddly Twinklemole origins. Tubbiness being a trait of Twinklemoles. But Humffrey thought of himself as Anglo-Sockson with only a dash of Twinklemole.

As it happened, he was now overseeing the closure and subsequent removal of the artefacts in the galleries that were to be demolished. The heating in those had long been terminated in an effort to economise. By order of the illustrious Director, of course.

Humffrey was pleased that everything was going according to his schedule, if only to prove a point about his administrative skills. Hundreds of boxes had arrived and an assortment of equipment was on hand to catalogue the artefacts as they were packaged. The artefacts themselves were to be moved to various locations within the university. These locations were to be kept secret for security reasons, of course.

Soon he expected the arrival of an army of fawning young hopefuls eager to service their career prospects and please their résumés with the prestige of working for the world famous Imperial University of Nonagon Museum of Artefactual Objects, and on such a renowned project too.

Sure enough, early the next day, a stream of fresh-faced individuals marched into the first gallery wearing boots and uniforms of various shades of taupe. In unison, they strode to the pile of equipment. And without a word, each pulled on a pair of focusing goggles and stretched a pair of special rubbery gloves over their collective hands, making a loud slapping sound as they released the gloves over their elbows. Then they marched to the first cabinet and proceeded to remove the items with military precision. Each item passing through a rigorous sequence of sorting, categorisation, classification, labelling, logging and placing in boxes, careful to label the boxes, for there would be chaos otherwise.

Meanwhile, the attendants were jumping up and down while simultaneously pointing in front of themselves. This was supposed to be a visualisation exercise, meant to instil a sense of progression in their careers. Next, they were made to stand in a circle facing each other and then smile the biggest smile to the attendant standing opposite for a count of 100. Still, anything was better than moving dust about.

“Smile! It’s a wonderful job!” bellowed the instructor, known only as Team Builder. For some reason known only to herself, she was in the habit of wearing a red hard hat during these ‘exercises’. “You must smile the biggest smile you can muster!” she bellowed cheerfully, while clapping rhythmically.

Boil grumbled something about idiocy, while turning a fetching shade of magenta.

“Attendant Boil!” she shrilled breathlessly. “Get those mouth-corners up, up, up!”

Team Builder had now taken to throwing her legs up in the air, prompting Scarletina to raucous laughter.

Sneerpot began to imitate Team Builder, giggling uncontrollably for a few minutes before disapproval was expressed by Team Builder, who shouted, “MOTIVIZE, MOTIVIZE, MOTIVIZATION!” in an irritating singing voice. Note the use of the letter ‘Z’. These funny ideas always come from North Americium.

Soon after, the teapot room beckoned. A new-fangled processing engine had arrived but no one could use it because they were not privy to the secret password or even know how to switch it on. There was a notice on the board stating that there was a requirement to receive some new-fangled processing engine training, but no date had been set.

There was also a pile of official looking letters by the great teapot. They bore the great seal of the Imperial University of Nonagon and each was carefully addressed to individual attendants and marked private:

You will be aware from the many newsletters and meetings (conducted in absentia), that the Imperial University of Nonagon is implementing a new remuneration structure. The Imperial University of Nonagon wishes to absorb all attendant classes into the same remuneration and conditions. With this in mind, it has been decided that this would be best achieved by synchronising all jobs.

The museum has therefore decided that your job will now be graded ‘zero’. This grade is specifically designed for minions and the like as they are not required to have any initiative or intelligence and are only required to carry out simple routine instructions under strict supervision. Your remuneration will be adjusted accordingly as explained in the attendant class handbook entitled ‘New Synergy’...

So that’s what the puce booklet next to the packet of regulation biscuits was.

The director’s Glorious Plan Experimental Gallery was being implemented. The consultants, DE-SIGN, were introducing new display methods too. No expense was being spared so that all new ideas and new ways could be assessed. Pork-Rind insisted that the experimental gallery should be fashioned from the finest imported materials at enormous cost. No ordinary beams or struts were good enough. They had to be plated in the latest imaginary metallic substance - magnolinium. Only this was good enough. In fact, the cabinets would also have to be plated in this newest of materials too. And be fitted with a special type of glass so that from any direction, the glass reflected the back of the artefact while the front had no reflections at all. No ordinary wall paint would do either. It had to contain fine flecks of gold or silver, to enhance the lighting, of course. And as for the lighting...

Pork-Rind stood admiringly as the first flavour of his dream took shape. His vast knowledge and impeccable taste would ensure that, this time, there would be no room for endless collections of chipped pouring pots. Only the best of the best would be on display.

But something was jarring his vision, interfering and irritating the corner of his eye. He stood back. Pork-Rind fumed at the sight of it, irksome as it was.

“What is this builder’s paraphernalia still doing here?!” he shouted, while pointing indignantly at a pile of scaffolding tubes only partially obscured by a shabby old tarpaulin.

The nearest attendant, who happened to be the very tiny Oleander Diddly, spluttered nervously, making a faint buzzing sound as she fluttered her vestigial wings, while scampering across to the scaffolding tubes in a panic and dithering as to what to do next. Pork-Rind’s face seemed about to explode, red-hot as it was with anger, Oleander burst into tears, blubbering something about the builders.

As the experimental gallery was developing, so the lower echelons became disgruntled, their remuneration about to be severely cut. Rumours abounded of closures, job remit changes, job re-titles and strange new uniforms involving sashes and hats with numerous flashing lights.

Various attendants quoted the puce-coloured handbook while they argued over niggles in the new remuneration structure. Nobody was ever available for comment, so the attendants finally demanded yet another meeting with the director of administrative interaction. They got the gallery facilitator manager instead.

Filibuster-Fartlet finally arrived at the teapot room having endured another ordeal in the basement corridor.

The minutiae of the puce handbook was scrutinised to little effect, culminating in a statement by Filibuster-Fartlet:

“As you have read in the handbook, an independent organisation has developed ACRID - or Attendant Class Role Inquiry and Determination - for creating the new grade to which you have been assigned. This new way to derive pay structures was developed by the Institute of Advanced Gobbledegook. This, in turn, was derived from an old and infallible mathematical formula from the ancient accountant Taxonames’s formula for reducible amounts, in order to harmonise, synergise, synchronise and standardise. I realise that this will mean a cut in remunerations but I’m afraid it’s out of the museum’s hands.” There was a note of false sympathy in his voice. Then he added casually: “The museum will be redefining the gallery attendant role in any case, with the temporary closure of the museum at some, as yet, indeterminate date.”

“CLOSURE?!” cried the attendants with alarm. Chaos ensued as the words ‘strike’, ‘protest’ and ‘redundancy’ were bandied about in various combinations.

Filibuster-Fartlet panicked as he realised his blunder.

“LET ME REASSURE YOU!” he screamed. “I mean, that there is a slight and miniscule possibility that the museum may or may not close. And options are only being analysed.” He spoke rapidly in an effort to restore peace - unsuccessfully. His face flushed with embarrassment. “And if you do not carry out your job as described in the staff handbook, the red hat of cheerfulness will be implemented!” he squeaked, before making a very quick exit.

Pork-Rind was still fuming about the scaffolding tubes incident and was now ready for another little session inside the nine-pointed star in Retrench’s office.

Pork-Rind was indulging his every design whim and Retrench had devised an even better way of cutting costs in other areas.

Retrench waited for Pork-Rind to be under the influence of his pebble’s peculiar properties.

“I have a little plan for you to mull over, Dr Pork-Rind. It will finally do away with our little attendant problem.”

Pork-Rind’s snout twitched as he snarled, “And that woman?”

“Yes, Madame Pluchette too... eventually. But patience is of the essence.”

“If you’re talking about redundancy... The university won’t be pleased. The publicity could be damaging.”

Retrench grinned. “Redundancy is such an ugly word. I prefer personnel architecture readjustment. My plan is to replace the attendants with much cheaper ‘gargoyles’. These winged gargoyles will watch over the galleries day and night, no questions asked. And what is more, they require little supervision. Not to mention little in the way of remunerations.” He chuckled weakly. “Of course, we’ll keep a few attendants. For show.”

Pork-Rind replied rather monotonously, “Sounds very appealing, Retrench.”

“By the way, this was your idea,” added Retrench before waving Pork-Rind out of his office.

Pork-Rind quietly shuffled away mumbling something about somehow incorporating the interesting design on Retrench’s office floor into the re-configured building.

But what to do with leftover obsolete attendants? Retrench would mull over the possibilities.

The Secret Senior Staff Group, or the SSS Group as Pork-Rind preferred, was to hold a top secret meeting that afternoon. It was to be held in a clandestine manner due to the sensitivity of the agenda. There had been enough trouble with rumours as it was.

Everyone that was anyone in the museum was there. All the academics, Gravel Retrench, Humffrey Twink... Even Myrmidon Filibuster-Fartlet. And of course Pork-Rind, who had finally arrived, making an entrance, just at the moment when the academic staff were growing impatient.

They sat at a massive round table, which did a good job of concealing yet another nine-pointed star on the floor. Pork-Rind stood on a plinth in order to emphasise his importance. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “this special meeting has been called to discuss certain issues that will require discretion on your part...”

The academic staff, being quite clever, had a sense of foreboding. In the current climate, issues and discretion could only mean one thing.

“...Due to budget constraints there is a need for resource realignment. This, in conjunction with the Glorious Plan schedule, necessitates some personnel architecture readjustments. As you are aware, there will be considerably fewer galleries for a while. This, and the refurbishment of the remaining galleries, will necessitate the discontinued opening of the museum at some point in the near future.”

“You mean closure!” bellowed Dr Wingnut, jaw jutting out indignantly, “and redundancies no doubt!”

Retrench rubbed his pebble furiously.

Pork-Rind cleared his throat. “There will be some staff readjustment, but that will be mostly through ‘natural wastage’ and will only involve the support staff... such as attendants.

Fligbert piped up: “But we will need these trusted staff again, once the artefacts are returned. Surely they could be temporarily redeployed?”

Retrench continued to rub his pebble furiously.

Pork-Rind added, rather hurriedly: “The role of gallery attendant, amongst others is to be re-examined.”

At this point Retrench interrupted, “Ahem. I think it’s time to move on to the next item on the agenda, Director.”

Pork-Rind stared directly ahead with a blank expression on his face until he spoke again: “We will now move on to the issue of the experimental gallery. I will soon have the report compiled by the design consultants, DE-SIGN, regarding the experimental gallery findings. So far it is looking quite excellent,” he grinned with excitement, before continuing, “unfortunately its budget was somewhat underestimated, but this cannot be helped. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity...”

Certain members of staff grumbled and mumbled in unison, but were largely ignored. Pork-Rind lapsed into a stupor, while Retrench spoke.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I only have one word to say - Rebranding. I am sure you will be excited to hear that a Rebranding Project is now under way. The first phase includes interviews with a small number of staff and members of various committees. There will also be an exit interview held for people visiting the museum and a review of our services. This will give the consultants, AFFECT-ATION, an image of what we are and how we are perceived. There will then be workshops that will test some of the ideas with a wide group of staff. This work will enlighten our collective sense of our corporate aura...” Retrench raised his arms, forming a large, all-encompassing circle.

Certain members of staff grumbled and mumbled in unison, but were largely ignored. Again.

Humffrey Twink smiled to himself, thankful that he had been largely removed from all the corporate aura palaver.

Months later, the booted army of fawning young taupe uniforms moved the last of the artefacts into their final boxes. The last box was closed and ready to be shipped to its secret location.

Such treasures as the Nonagon Conch: an Anglo-Sockson artefact, believed to have been used as a clasp. Made of gold, it was inlaid with a small opaque rock crystal stone in imitation of a pearl. And of course, the Rufflio and Nickelanglio drawings. Rufflio Insaniti and Nickelanglio Bonigrotti were two of the most important artists of the Continental Renewsense period. They were represented by an extensive collection of their drawings and sketches.

Everything had now been carefully catalogued, packed and moved. The old glass cabinets left empty, the discolouration of the walls exposed after so many years of stagnant display. The inert layers of dust highlighted by the removed artefacts and the echo of the past fading away. Humffrey had reluctantly completed the first phase of his schedule and the old galleries were in the process of being finally sealed.

Meanwhile, the three old battleaxes of the top table had been the first of the ‘natural wastage’. Pork-Rind thought they were not at all what the new corporate aura was about. Frankly, they were horribly ugly. In any case, they had now mysteriously disappeared from their corresponding now-empty galleries.

As each old gallery was sealed, the air in the museum became increasingly stagnant. This stale air was seemingly drained of any oxygen, as wave upon wave of visitors sucked what little there was out of the atmosphere. A cold dampness pervaded some galleries, whilst stifling heat overwhelmed others. The galleries were now so lacking in fresh air as to render anyone who happened to be there long enough, into a stupor. Even the most hardened attendant found it difficult to stay awake...

Cypher had been made to wear the red hat of cheerfulness for failing the smiling exercise.

She was not the only one. Boil was also given a red hat but he had refused to wear it, as he claimed it clashed with the colour of his face and therefore was an infringement of his humanoid rights.

They were both sitting in the Violet Gallery where the gladiolins were on display in their glass cabinets.

After a while, Cypher’s eyelids gradually shut.

Then, one of the cabinet doors suddenly and mysteriously popped open. She woke up and decided to investigate further. For some reason one of the gladiolins appeared under her chin, while Boil began conducting an orchestra, which had also suddenly appeared in the gallery for no reason.

In the midst of this musical interlude and as the sound waves carried away into the distance, everything leached away, along with Cypher and Boil as they drew their last breath...

#novel #job #occult #bookworm #story #fiction #talesofnonagon #hypnosis #gossip #nail art

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longislanddivorce1 · 2 years ago

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witchysleepingbeauty · 3 years ago

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How I finally cleared up my ingrown hairs and booty acne!

(Not manifesting related!)

I am a very confident person but even I felt insecure every time I went to the beach with a red booty and a bumpy bikini line. I know this can be very tough emotionally for many of you and it can truly feel like there’s nothing you can do to fix it!

So I have collected for you my fave tips:

Exfoliate every day and right before shaving! This is very important to make sure that you prevent any ingrown hairs. I use a loofah, you can use a mitten or a body scrub (body scrubs might be more abrasive, avoid scrubs with sea salt, apricot or walnut, or synthetic breads, instead use sugar scrubs). Also remember to change your loofah or mitten ever 2-3 months for hygiene purposes and make sure to hang it somewhere to dry after use to prevent mold.

Use a good razor. I use the giellette fusion pro glide, it’s intended for men so it’s extra sharp to shave rough facial hair and it works so much better than any other razor intended for women.

Use an oil or hair conditioner to shave. You will be amazed by how easier shaving will be. Oil can get a bit messy but sometimes works better than conditioner so try both yourself and see what works best. You can use coconut oil, almond oil, etc... (NO FREGRANCED OR ESSENTIAL OILS! they can be very irritating, if you can, try and find an un scented conditioner as well though it will not be very easy!) if you use an oil you’ll need a good razor or it will get clogged up, also don’t be alarmed if the process gets messy, you’ll find clumps of oil, dead skin and body hair which will be gross I won’t lie, but can be easily rinsed away with hot water, so you need to be prepared for a bit of extra cleaning afterwards.

After shaving I use the CeraVe acne foaming cream cleanser. It’s perfect because it has antibacterial properties while being gentle on your skin and it won’t dry it out. So listen, this has benzoyl peroxide which is banned in over the counter products in EU so you cannot find it here or import it. I’m lucky enough to travel to the U.S. often and be able get it (which might not be the most legal thing...) but if you live in EU and don’t have any way to get your hands on it then try to find another mild antibacterial body wash. This will prevent pimples however I prefer to use it only on areas where I truly need it. (Also if you used an oil in the previous step make sure to clean it out well. )

After shaving apply a reparative cream. Here the most known one is bepanthol which has 5% vitamin B5 in it, however I assume any reparative cream will do. The goal is to moisturize the skin and prevent any irritation while aiding in healing. I like to apply it on damp skin to boost the moisturizing properties.

At night use an exfoliating body lotion. I like the CeraVe SA smoothing cream, it’s best not to apply it directly after shaving and if your skin is extra sensitive you might want to wait till the next day as well. This will help keep your skin extra clear and prevent further any ingrown hairs as well as lighten any previous spots and marks left on your skin. You can use this every day or every other day depending on the skin area, how sensitive your skin is, etc...

Take a skin supplement. I use the lierac sunissime, which is actually a tanning supplement (it has vitamins in it that are said to help boost melanin production and the skins tolerance to sun) and I discovered it by accident, however not only did it help clear my skin, I discovered it helped with razor bumps and shaving sensitivity as well!

This is my last tip. Most of you will probably know that it’s almost impossible to shave two consecutive days, however if you need to I have a great method I use myself and it works like a charm! Start by exfoliating your skin very well, fill up your bathtub, soak yourself in it for 10-15 minutes, apply a thin layer of oil on the areas you want to shave. Now start shaving UNDERWATER! Yes, shave underwater, you will be shocked at how comfortable your skin will feel.

Disclaimer: I am not a dermatologist or medical professional, this post is intended to share my personal experience with these methods and products, and by no means to cure, treat or prevent any disease. Before trying anything mentioned here you should consult your dermatologist.

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tebarambles · 5 years ago

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Day 3: Frost

Bernie shudders and pulls up the lapels of her coat in an attempt to fend off the cold. Holby hasn't been this icy around Christmas in years. Or maybe she is not used to these temperatures anymore after spending the better part of the past two decades in more arid regions. Either way, she should have bothered to put on a beanie, she thinks, or at least her scarf that she now realises she has left in her locker at work.

Her shift had been more stressful than she would have thought possible on a calm - boring, a scornful voice in her head interjects - ward like Keller. Two post-op patients had gone into arrest at the same time, so she had to spend her free afternoon in theatre. With only two hours left before the shops close, she left the hospital in a hurry, hence the lack of protection against frostbite.

Bernie tries to avoid the jolly crowd that is swarming around the various stands of Holby’s very own Christmas market, not willing to waste any more time. She usually quite enjoys Christmas shopping, always likes to make an effort and surprise her loved ones with little presents that aren’t on their respective wish lists. Granted, that hasn’t always gone well - looking back, Marcus’ non-existent sense of humour should have been warning enough not to marry him, she muses.

This year, however, she finds herself at a loss. What do you get your newly estranged children who are still bitter about their parents’ divorce? She is not even sure they will accept her gifts and peace offerings, which is why she has put the dreaded task off until now. Which leaves her with less than three days to find something. Brilliant.

She straightens her shoulders and decides to pay Charlotte’s favourite record shop a visit first - only to be stopped by a slender young woman who steps right in front of her, waving her smartphone at Bernie’s face.

“Excuse me,” the girl beams at her, the words a bit slurred, “could you please take a photo of my mum and I? Great!” With that she hands her the phone and skips back to where her mother is waiting. Right. Okay.

Bernie makes to follow her but stops short: the other woman is stunning! She is the spitting image of her daughter, with a cute cleft in her chin and dark brown eyes. Eyes that are currently sparkling with barely concealed amusement as she raises a neatly sculpted brow and half-heartedly chastises her daughter for "harassing strangers for a silly photo."

Realising that this might not be the right moment to explore her new-found attraction to eyebrows - who would have thought? - Bernie shakes herself out of her temporary stupor, mumbles a shy “hello,” and busies herself with the girl’s phone. Keep calm, Wolfe.

She offers the women a few vague instructions and manages a number of decent snaps before the girl comes over and eagerly snatches the phone from her hand to scroll through the gallery.

“Mum, look! We are so pretty!” she gushes, then turns around to address Bernie.

“Look! Isn’t my mum pretty?”

Pretty? Beautiful, attractive, devastatingly sexy, Bernie thinks, then coughs and chokes out a strangled “um…-”

“Thank you so much! Can I hug you?” the girl interrupts her and flings her arms around Bernie’s neck, not bothering to wait for a response.

“Ellie!” The mother joins them to save Bernie from her daughter’s exorbitant display of gratitude. “I’m so sorry. She had a bit too much of the mulled cider, I’m afraid.”

Bernie shrugs it off and offers her a smile. “Don’t worry, no harm done. At least she’s a happy drunk. My ex-husband used to get mopey when he had too much wine,” Bernie rolls her eyes at the memory.

Her assessment prompts the other woman to chuckle. “Ah, yes, today is one of her better days. She was right to thank you, though. Serena Campbell, nice to meet you”

Bernie takes the offered hand, notices how soft and warm it is and almost forgets to answer. “Bernie Wolfe”

“As in Major Berenice Wolfe, the new consultant on Keller?”

“Bernie is fine. But how- oh! Do you work at Holby City Hospital, too?”

“Yes, on AAU, “ Serena smiles, then frowns. “One should think that our ward would suit your talents much better than Keller?”

“Well, the spot on Keller was on offer, I applied and that was that.” Bernie shrugs, unsure what else to say. She would love to work on AAU and getting to work with Serena would certainly be a bonus.

Then she realises that they are still holding each other’s hands.

Serena seems to notice at the same time. She doesn’t pull away, though. Instead, she encloses Bernie’s hand with both of her own.

“Oh dear, your fingers are like icicles. What are you doing, walking about without mittens or a scarf at least? You must be freezing! Here,” Serena untangles her own scarf from her neck and wraps it around Bernie’s, “that’s better.”

“But.. won’t you be cold now?” Bernie stutters. She is painfully aware that she is blushing at the gentle touch, hopes she can blame it on the cold.

“Ah, don’t worry,” Serena rummages through her handbag, then points at Ellie who doesn’t look as energetic anymore. “I need to get this one home now, anyway. You can buy me a coffee at Pulses when you give it back.” After a moment’s hesitation, Serena envelops Bernie in a brief hug.

Ellie smiles at Bernie. “I wanted to say thanks again for the pics. It was nice to meet you, Bernie. You’re great!”

“Hear, hear!” Serena winks at Bernie and links arms with her daughter. “Come on, it’s time to go home.”

Bernie can’t help but stare after Serena until she is out of sight.

Later, when she arrives home after what eventually turned into a surprisingly successful little shopping spree, she finds a slip of paper in her coat pocket. Below a phone number it reads:

To get in touch about that coffee :)

S x

She suddenly doesn’t feel cold anymore.

@berenaadvent

#Berena Advent 2019 #berena advent: frost #eeek i wrote something #it's shameless fluff - surprise :D #with added salt because i loathe marcus #elinor isn't a brat in this one #thank you batnbreakfast for giving this a quick once-over

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theyoganews · 3 years ago

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TheYogaNews.com:Back Pain Relief Stretches | 10 min. Yoga for Relaxation & Recovery

New Post has been published on https://theyoganews.com/2021/08/14/theyoganews-comback-pain-relief-stretches-10-min-yoga-for-relaxation-recovery/

TheYogaNews.com:Back Pain Relief Stretches | 10 min. Yoga for Relaxation & Recovery

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Enjoy this beautiful Yoga inspired Stretching Routine to release tension in your upper, middle and lower back. These stretches are designed to help you reduce tension, and gain more relaxation and body awareness. Gift yourself with 10 minutes, just for yourself!

This routine is also the perfect little (home) office break in order to release tension caused by sitting all day long at the desk.

Furthermore I would like to welcome all of the new non-German-speaking followers here on my channel. Most of you came through my 15 Min. Full Body Stretch and I am more than happy to share my practise with you with the help of these kind of videos (music only, no talking).

In addition to my German voice-over-videos, I will be producing more music-only stretching and fitness content in the future, so everybody can join! If you have any video requests, please let me know in the comments.

Thank you for practising with me! Mady

NO ADS! As in all of my sessions, I do not put any ads within the video. So you won’t be interrupted in the middle of your workout.

NO ADS! Wie in allen meinen Einheiten, schalte ich innerhalb der Videos keine Werbung! Ihr werdet also nicht mitten im Workout unterbrochen.

Diese Yoga-Einheit könnt ihr ganz prima im Anschluss absolvieren:

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PS:Keine Sorge ihr Lieben, natürlich wird es auch weiterhin „gesprochene“ Videos geben. Das eine schließt das andere ja nicht aus und der nächste Yoga-Flow ist sogar schon in Planung 😉

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Mein Meditationskissen: https://tidd.ly/3aGk84n*

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Meine Yoga Morgenroutine: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nm6Rl…

Yoga gegen Rückenschmerzen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p3Q_L…

Verspannungen im Nacken?! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nwg5j…

Yoga Stretch and Relax: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qH-3M…

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MUSIK: www.epidemicsound.com

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Für tägliche Inspiration YOGA, TRAVEL & FOOD :

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* das ist ein Affiliate Link. Wenn du über diesen Link etwas kaufst, erhalte ich eine kleine Provision. Am Preis verändert sich für dich rein gar nichts!! So kannst du diesen Kanal unterstützen und hilfst mir weiterhin kostenlose Aktionen und Videos für euch zu erstellen. Vielen Dank für deinen Support! Video Rating: / 5

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This 30 minute full body Flow Yoga for Flexibility & Strength practice is sequenced with sun salutations, hip openers, & twists. Modifications built in for all-levels. 🔥 Get the 5 MIN QUICK ABS: https://www.sarahbethyoga.com/5-minute-quick-abs

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Disclaimer: Sarah Beth from Sarah Beth Yoga LLC strongly recommends that you consult with your physician before beginning any exercise program. You should be in good physical condition and be able to participate in the exercise. You should understand that when participating in any exercise or exercise program, there is the possibility of physical injury. If you engage in this exercise or exercise program, you agree that you do so at your own risk, are voluntarily participating in these activities, assume all risk of injury to yourself, and agree to release and discharge

#yogaforflexibility #30minuteyoga #fullbodyyoga

#&amp #Min.#Pain #Recovery #Relaxation #Relief #Stretches #TheYogaNews.comBack #YOGA

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bandit-the-tervuren · 8 years ago

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Get to know the Blogger

Picture of yourself (or if you aren’t comfortable with that, a picture of one of your animals):

Age: 21 (nearly 22 woot!)

Blog: @bandit-the-tervuren Personal: ask off anon and maybe i’ll tell you :) it’s not a secret, but i don’t like to advertise it too much either :p

Pet community associations: Dogs. Horses kindof, i follow some horse blogs and reblog pretty horses. I also follow cat blogs, and we have 5 cats.

My animals: Dogs: Bandit, Belgian Tervuren 3, nearly 4!. Coco, Rat Terrier, 11, and Pippa, Dachshund mix, 2. Cats: Oreo,Tuxedo, 9. Mittens, darker grey tabby, 14?. Cinder, Tortoiseshell, 12?. Romeo, Longhair dark tabby with thicker black tabby markings, 8. Luna, Light grey, with brown cheeks, 5 months.

Most popular post you’ve made: This one

How did you get into keeping the type of animal your blog is focused on? I’ve just always loved animals since i was a kid, and the “usual” pets you get are dogs and cats, and that’s what i got when i was a kid. (Coco & my mother’s cats, Mittens, Cinder, Romeo and one other that has now passed) Oreo we got because i saw him at an exotic & aquatics store my father frequented for fish, as a part of a couple litters that had been dropped off, and begged my father relentlessly for a kitten. Bandit we got because that’s my father’s favourite breed and he wanted another dog. Luna we got from a classmate of mine who found her but soon realized they couldn’t keep her because they couldn’t afford her, so i offered to buy her from them partly cause i felt bad for it (they had dogs that used it as a toy, and they didn’t know how to stop that) and i’d met it before and how can you not love an adorable tiny kitten.

What inspired you to start your blog? I discovered other dog blogs, and got my first camera around the same time and thought “OMG THIS IS AMAZING!” “ i can share things about my dog with a ton of other dog people, and people in general who will actually care? and want to see my dog and hear about my dog??”

Favourite animal or dream animal you’d like to one day keep?: Dogs always, Maybe a horse someday, Some smol critters, some reptiles, some birds. Basically a mini zoo is my dream lol.

How do you feel about the pet community you are a part of?: Dogblr has its drama but i luckily don’t see much of it, i hear about it but don’t see much of it, if i do i usually just scroll past, there’s no point in feeding the flames. Some people will never change their opinions and that may be irritating as hell, but i just don’t see any point to getting into it online. As well some are just create it for attention. But overall dogblr is awesome and very supportive and I love you all!

Anything you’d like to communicate to your pet community?: Thank you all for such varying points of view and guidance when needed. You’ve challenged me to think outside the box and outside my comfort zone. In addition i’ve learned so much from you guys, i came here thinking i knew a lot, but really i was this uneducated baby, who knew a little more than the average person, but still soo little.

Are you comfortable with followers asking pet care questions? If it’s not too complicated and i know the answer to the question? Sure! But with medical issues, or behavior issues, you should still consult an expert, ie: a vet or behaviorist.

Any interests outside of your pet community?: I love to read, watch TV, Movies. Idk atm, i don’t do a lot cause i’m in college and animals are kindof my life. I’ve done several dog training types, agility, obedience, rally obedience.

What do you do outside of Tumblr?: College, take care of,spend time with, my animals and train with the canine ones, i had a summer job this past summer. Spend time with my boy and my mom.

Any other info you’d like to give? (Maybe what you studied in school, what you’d like to one day do, or something else?): I previously was on the track toward Vet Tech, but it was a difficult, highly competitive major and with that and my mental health, i didn’t quite make it into the program and it would have take a while to first pick up my grades and then re-attempt to get into the program. And i kinda felt that’s a lot of effort for not a lot of money and at least if i pick another major, that pays s bit more, i can have some animals of my own. Now i’m working toward Elementary Education.

I’m tagging @everythinghaschemicalsbarbara @wolfyoubemyvalentine @deathshepherd @ofdreamsandomens @oliveramy @doberbutts @6woofs @lizplz @salty-sighthound

#get to know the blogger #about me

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arplis · 5 years ago

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Arplis - News: Ice Fishing Basics

Chain pickerel are common a catch. Photo Tom Richardson

When my wife gave me a guided ice-fishing trip in the Berkshires as a Christmas gift a few years ago, I wasnt sure what to think. Yes, I had previously expressed some curiosity about ice fishinga form of angling with which I had littleexperiencebut to banish ones spouse to a frozen lake for the day? Really?

My guidewas Paul Tawczynski, an accomplished freshwater angler who once competed on the B.A.S.S. tournament circuit.Tawczynski is the founder of Charter the Berkshires, which he built into a successful year-round guiding service before selling the business to fellow guide Patrick Barone, who continues to offer guided groupice-fishing trips, as well as warm-weather trips targeting everything from bass to trout.

A basic tip-up is all you need to get started in ice fishing. Photo Tom Richardson

Serious Operation

On a cold and overcast day in mid-February, I met Tawczynski and the four other members of our shared party at snow-covered Lake Laurel in Lee, an hour west of Springfield and roughly two hours from Boston.Once our group had assembled in the parking lot in front of the lakes launch ramp, Tawczynski gave us the drill on how the four-hour afternoon session would proceed. He had pre-rigged 25 tip-ups over holes the ice, all baited with live shiners, which hestores in buckets treated with a chemical that keeps the water from freezing.

What to Wear

Speaking of freezing, its critical to dress properly for ice fishingat least if you want to enjoy yourself. Insulated, waterproof boots for the often slushy lake surfaces and layered clothing are a must (most ice-fishing veterans favor snowmobile suits)and dont forget ear protection and your best pair of gloves or mittens. If things get really bitter, Charter the Berkshires provides aportable shelter warmed by a propane heater.

The tip-ups we fished were standard-issue. Each featured an orange flag that automatically pops up when a fish takes the bait. A set of bells on the flag also alert the angler to a bite. The reels were spooled with 50-pound-test braided line and a three-foot monofilament leader with a No. 1 hook tied to the end (hook size varies according to the size of the bait and the species being targeted). A small split-shot sinker is sometimes attached several inches above the hook to keep the bait at the desired depth. The shiners, meanwhile, were lightly hooked just ahead of the dorsal fin and above the spine, so as not to impede their swimming ability.

Shiners should be hooked just ahead of the dorsal fin and above the spine. Photo Tom Richardson

Live Baits Best

While Tawczynski sometimes fishes small jigs tipped with waxworms for species such as perch, sunfish, and bass when the fish are biting well, the live-bait approach is best for inexperienced anglers and days when the fish are sluggishwhich is much of the time. Winter fish do not eat to increase their size, energy, and muscle mass for breeding and competing with rivals or evading predators. Rather, they are simply trying survive the winter, and therefore feed less frequently and aggressively than during the warmer months. They still have to eat, however!

But where to set the lines? Much depends on the species being targeted, but in general one should look for drop-offs, weed beds, rocks, tree stumps, and areas of current flow, such as near the outlet or inlet of a lake or pond. All of these places tend to attract baitfish, which in turn draw predators. To locate these spots, consult a bathymetric map, available through the state, digital charting companies, andvarious apps, such as GPS nautical charts. In our case, the lines were set in 5 to 20 feet of water and staggered to cover different depths in the hopes of intercepting the fish as they cruised for a meal.

Some Massachusetts lakes are stocked with tiger trout. Photo Tom Richardson

Laurel Lake is noteworthy for containing stocked salmon, which can weigh 10 pounds or more. They are an elusive species that tend to cruise just below the ice, and are often spooked by the movements of fishermen above. Catching one is a real challenge. More common are the pickerel, trout, bass, crappie, sunfish, and perch that inhabit most of the lakes and ponds in western Massachusetts.

Like any type of fishing, ice fishing action is affected by the weather. As during summer, high pressure tends to get the fish feeding more aggressively. On the other hand, low or falling pressure can make for slow days.

Ice-Fishing Safety

Before venturing onto thefrozen lakes and ponds of New England, follow these important safety tips:

In general, a clear layer of ice four inches thick is safe for foot traffic, but there are no guarantees. Always consider ice to be potentially dangerous. Assess the ice by using a chisel to chop a hole in the ice to determine its thickness and condition. Ice thickness is seldom uniform, so continue to test the ice as you venture further onto the pond or lake. Remember that ice thickness depends on water currents, depth, and the presence of springs and objects such as tree stumps or rocks (ice will be thinner around objects that retain warmth from the sun). Daily changes in temperature also cause the ice to expand and contract, which affects its strength. Never venture on to ice-bound rivers or streams, because the currents make ice thickness unpredictable.

What if you fall through the ice? As with any emergency, dont panic! Briefly call for help. It doesnt take long for the cold water to start slowing your physical and mental functions, so you must act quickly. Air will remain trapped in your clothes for a short time, aiding in buoyancy. Kick your legs while grasping for firm ice. Try to pull your body up using ice pins or picks, which should be hanging around your neck. Once your torso is on firm ice, roll towards thicker icethe direction from which you previously walked. Rolling will distribute your weight better than walking.

After you reach safe ice, you need to warm up quickly to prevent hypothermia. Go to the nearest fishing shanty, warm car, or house. Dont drive home in wet clothes.

If a companion falls through the ice, remember the phrase Reach-Throw-Go. If you are unable to reach your friend, throw him/her a rope, jumper cables, tree branch, or other object. If this does not work, go for help; do not risk becoming a victim yourself. Pet owners should keep pets on a leash. If a pet falls through the ice, do not attempt to rescue the pet; go for help. Well-meaning pet owners often fall through the ice when trying to save their pets.

Ice Thickness and Strength

Ice Thickness (inches)

Permissible Load (on new* clear**, blue ice on lakes or ponds)

2 or less

STAY OFF!

Ice fishing or other activities on foot

Snowmobile or ATV

8-12

Car or small pickup truck

12 15

Medium truck

*New ice is stronger than older ice. **White ice or snow ice is only about half as strong as new clear ice. Double the above thickness guidelines when traveling on white ice.

More Safety Tips

Leave information about your plans with someone, including where you intend to fish and when you expect to return.

Wear a personal flotation device.

Ice varies in thickness and condition. Always carry an ice spud or chisel to check ice as you proceed.

Be extremely cautious crossing ice near river mouths, points of land, bridges, islands, and over reefs and springs. Current almost always causes ice to be thinner over these areas.

Avoid going onto the ice if it has melted away from the shore. This indicates melting is underway, and ice can shift position as wind direction changes.

Waves from open water can quickly break up large areas of ice. If you can see open water in the lake and the wind picks up, get off!

Make sure yourcell phone is fully charged.

Carry a safety line that can be thrown to someone who has gone through the ice.

Heated fishing shanties must have good ventilation to prevent deadly carbon monoxide poisoning. Open a window or the door part way to allow in fresh air.

The post Ice Fishing Basics appeared first on New England Boating & Fishing.

Arplis - News source http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Arplis-News/~3/gd0cGr7ZUkc/ice-fishing-basics

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modernlife-catastrophe-blog · 5 years ago

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olivewinterleaf · 2 years ago

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