<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111</id><updated>2011-07-13T00:28:47.341-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sock</title><subtitle type='html'>All I am trying to do is find my sock.
It involves the mob, the police, a frozen lake, ice cream, and a hole to another dimension.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>41</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809984614354112</id><published>2005-06-06T16:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T16:21:54.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry I Brought it Up</title><content type='html'>Paolo is really sick. Between moaning and flatly denying it was his grasshopper feast that caused it, he's tossing the rest to Quark. Quark loves grasshoppers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I managed to get a couple of grouse-like birds for eating. There's not much meat on them, but they're better than grasshoppers. Paolo won't eat anything. He took one look and vomited when I offered him some then ripped the skin off. (I did cook it later)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I caught Nyra standing up and lurching from tree to tree, muttering about how gravity stinks. She sits down quickly whenever Mitch or I approach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thanked her for the use of her bow but she just growled at me. She's still in bear mode I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch is off building something. I've no idea what it is, he's refusing to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's really nice; the sun actually shines during the day and the wind blows softly through the trees and grass. It's dry and the weather is clear. The water we had is almost gone. I think we're going to have to go looking for water soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are soft cracking noises in the distance, like trees cracking in half and then a grinding thump. We can feel the rumble through the ground. It happens every hour or so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked the others about it but they're undecided whether to go find out what it is or run away. It resulted in an argument between Guido and Paolo whether it was a nasty beast or something that could possibly save us. I kind of regret mentioning it, but I think we may find out soon enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sending a message to the Edro, warning them of the coming attack, if it's not too late. Hopefully he can get a message out that Nyra is not dead or taken hostage.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809984614354112?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809984614354112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809984614354112&amp;isPopup=true' title='32 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809984614354112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809984614354112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/sorry-i-brought-it-up.html' title='Sorry I Brought it Up'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>32</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809971016940274</id><published>2005-06-06T16:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T16:15:10.173-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lunch with Grasshoppers and Giant Slugs</title><content type='html'>We scouted around today to see where we were. We didn't learn much about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are some paths we found that lead to small grassy areas with grasshoppers by the hundreds hopping out of the way as we walked through.  We could hear small birds, insects, clicking and the smells were fantastic.  Decaying leaves, dried grass, fresh grass, trees, piles of animal dung; they smelled wonderful after our stint in the void.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paolo decided that grasshoppers were nutritious and started chasing them.  He leaped out of the grass and disappeared, leapt again and disappeared.  He managed to catch quite a few, popping them in his mouth and leaping again.  Mostly it was the ones that he landed on that he kept for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said that it was also good exercise for his leg muscles and prodded Mitch to join him.  Mitch called him 'Paolo the Menace' and decided we should search the woods and leave the bouncing around to Paolo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deeper in the woods it got darker and trees got bigger.  It was moist and steamy.  Mitch stumbled upon piles of trinkets from our world on the forest floor and stooped to inspect them.  He picked up a pocket watch that still worked.  He was quite happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then a little further we found a couple of the corpses that had fallen with us.  They were being consumed by enormous 12 foot-long slugs and digested into piles of goo, cloth and trinkets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you think we should bury them?" Mitch asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bury what?"  I replied, "don't have a shovel and I'm NOT using my hands."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good point." Mitch fingered his jaw for a while, "Then should we say something?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Like what, ashes to ashes, dust to giant slug poop?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch looked at the corpses and muttered, "Sorry."and walked away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow on the way back he mysteriously misplaced the pocket watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nya was sitting, getting angrier and angrier.  Every time Mitch tried to talk to her she got even more upset, but she didn't seem to mind Paolo or Guido.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Mitch took off alone for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido's leg isn't looking too bad.  We managed to straighten it out a bit and keep it somewhat clean, but I'm worried about the next few days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He managed to cheer Nyra up for a bit.  She still had her bow and arrow and Guido wanted  to shoot it so, with the both of sitting with their backs against a log, they tried.  Nyra was frustrated for a while because they never went straight.  I quietly mentioned to Guido that she wasn't used to the arrows dropping, so Guido 'taught' her how to aim slightly above the target. I think she picked up herself, I know from first hand experience that Guido can't shoot anything straight.  Paolo got tired of fetching and retrieving arrows for them and wandered off to go hunting for food again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found him with a piece of cloth wriggling with grasshoppers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Want some?" He asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Eermm... No thanks."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good, more for Nyra.  She likes me you know.  Maybe if I gather enough food for her, later tonight we can..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Paolo!  How can you think like that?" I barked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked at me blankly.  "She's a girl."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You mean you'll have sex with just anyone?" I barked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He grinned, "Once you've had sex with them, they're not just anyone anymore."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Puttana." I muttered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He stood up proud, "I think she's pretty", then took his bag of grasshoppers and strode purposefully in the direction of the two recovering wounded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ignored the screaming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch didn't though.  I don't know where he came from but I could hear the heavy footsteps racing through the woods.  It stopped. Then there was more screaming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch appeared beside me a little later, "Paolo wants to be alone for a while," He said quietly, not looking at me.  Then he strode off again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I waited before going to see Guido and Nyra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't let those two come near me again!" she seethed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've learned that silence is sometimes the best response.  If you're stuck in the woods with an angry bear, do not poke the bear.  I let her seethe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she calmed down a bit I mentioned that I was quite good with a bow, and that there must be some wildlife around with feathers instead of insect wings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, she smiled and gave up the bow.  She made me retrieve all the arrows and I turned to go when she gasped, "Oh my!  I almost forgot!  The Wing was supposed to return to the city in five days! I was supposed to be with them! What day is it?" She looked around in panic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neither Guido nor I knew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If I don't return, the Nye will think I was killed or taken hostage."  She went quiet and looked at me with sorrow, "They won't have any mercy. Your city is doomed."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809971016940274?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809971016940274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809971016940274&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809971016940274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809971016940274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/lunch-with-grasshoppers-and-giant.html' title='Lunch with Grasshoppers and Giant Slugs'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809920642899707</id><published>2005-06-06T16:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-07T16:25:41.160-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Coign Toss</title><content type='html'>The mist soaked us to the bone. It pelted us, seemingly from every direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We could no longer see each other and even yelling was fruitless. We fell for what seemed like an eternity. Quark appeared, disappeared and appeared again. He seemed to be watching over us. He was in his element.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My arms got so tired I could no longer bother trying to steer. The jhuma acted like a poor-man's parachute, trailing above me like a streamer flapping violently in the wind. Air was being forced in through my nose and mouth and I had to force my eyes shut. The wind and wet made me so cold I could not move a muscle without excruciating pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it got calm. The wind got warmer, the mist turned into a warm rain. I managed to sneak a look. I saw trees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time seemed to slow down. The first tree cracked when I hit it. I thought it was me that cracked as it completely knocked the wind out of me. The second tree didn't crack. I bounced off of it. The third tree caught my jhuma and ripped it out of my hands. The rest was a blur. A thousand branches tossed me from one to the other, all clawing to rip me apart as I fell. Then I hit the ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had just missed two ancient, fallen logs and landed in centuries of rotted soft moss and dead things. It had felt like solid pavement. I hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to stand and fell back. It didn't make sense. My legs weren't hurt at all. I looked them over, they should have worked fine. I tried to stand again. It felt like I should be able to walk but they just wouldn't work right. It was like I was carrying an enormous weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a few moments I managed to get them working, but I tired more easily than ever. I managed to climb on top of the logs and look around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was an old forest. Rotten logs and moss littered the forest floor. Ferns and wet leaves squished as I walked though them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through the warm rain and mist I could only see so far. I yelled for the others, "Hello!" My voice sounded dead weak. There was no echo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quark made a quoort noise and circled over something. "My legs don't work!" came a voice. He had found Guido.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the distance came two more replies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rolled myself over logs and through the wet forest toward Guido. He was sitting up but his leg was bleeding. I took some of his jhuma and wrapped it that's about all I could do with the pouring rain and darkness setting in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Mitch appeared carrying Nyra in his arms. "She can't walk at all." He said looking worried "She didn't even try to stand she lay there trying to breath and passed out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paolo appeared huffing "It's muscle atrophy." He said then looked at Nyra who was unconscious "Except for her she's never had to walk. We've been in a weightless environment for a long time. The human body needs constant gravity..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch cut him off, "Shut up Paolo. Help me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paolo thought for a second. "Um mouth to mouth?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch grinned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paolo grinned too, "Can I do it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch growled, "No I will."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh please! I'll toss you for it!" Paolo pulled out a quarter "Heads!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch didn't have to reply. He used the eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rain poured off of him as he leaned over her. He gave her mouth to mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being born and raised in zero gravity gave Nyra a strange balance of muscles. Her arms and legs couldn't help her stand or walk but they certainly were used to flying long distances and were extremely powerful in certain directions. She unloaded these on Mitch and sent him flying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Let me go! Let me go!" she screamed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There's nobody near you." Paolo looked over to where Mitch was getting his own breath back, " Anymore"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's squeezing me?" She raised her head a bit looked around and focused on Mitch. "He tried to drown me. And kiss me. And kill me." She gave up and dropped her head "I'm stuck."&lt;br /&gt;Paolo moved to help her "Here I'll help you sit up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"NO! I can do it myself!" She snapped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch rushed forward "Back off Paolo I'll help her. Go find something to keep this rain off."&lt;br /&gt;She slapped Mitch's hands away and scowled, "No you don't," and turned to Paolo with a winning smile, "I would be honoured if you would help me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch backed off looking wounded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found the laptop and all the parts and sent a message then suggested we all try to build some shelter. It didn't take long. There was lots of jhuma cloth which was quite waterproof and plenty of branches around. Our little shelter nestled between two old logs. It kept out the rain but every once in a while the water would pool in the cloth and flip over soaking anyone underneath.&lt;br /&gt;"Can I light a fire?" Paolo asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Got matches?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paolo emptied his pockets he must have had 40 books of matches from when he was playing with fire "Yup."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You idiot they're getting soaked!" We all grabbed for some matches to get them out of the rain. They were already wet as we were all drenched from head to foot from our trip and the pouring rain. "We're screwed. None of these will light."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paolo dug in his pockets again "How about these?" He displayed a wonderful assortment of Zippos Bics and no-name brand lighters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch clapped him on the back "Paolo, you're a genius."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paolo was perfectly capable of lighting a fire in the middle of a rain shower. "The trick is to find very small stuff with lots of air space then increase the size of stuff above it. Even if it's wet it will light if you get a flame started. You see fire isn't about stuff to burn it's about air. There's a fine balance between air space and fuel that you get to know with practice..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's sure good to have a pyromaniac along when you get lost in the woods.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809920642899707?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809920642899707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809920642899707&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809920642899707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809920642899707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/coign-toss.html' title='Coign Toss'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809901152287449</id><published>2005-06-06T16:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T16:03:31.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nye Night</title><content type='html'>It was getting to be dusk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the dark spot flew closer we saw it was a person, one of the Nye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was beautiful.  Her long red silk wings were longer even than a Pilot's wings and billowed behind her. She had short-cropped blonde hair and was dressed appropriately for the heat in soft tans, bow and quiver. She was headed right for us, hauling a large bundle of rolled cloth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hello, naked men. Here these are for you." She unwrapped her cloth and handed us each a roll "Unroll these and hang on to both ends as you descend." They were long silken streamers about 6 feet wide and hundreds of feet long. "I have to return to the Nye and tell them what you said before the attack." She turned to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I replied with my usual sharpness "Um.. Hi.  Who are you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She laughed "My name is Nyra. I heard what you said."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When?  What did I say?" The wind was picking up but we were still parched. "Do you have any water?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No there will be plenty where you are going.  If I give you any I will not be able to return myself.  I have brought you each a jhuma hopefully they will help. Now I must return." She turned to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Help what?  What do you mean? What did I say?" I said over a bit of wind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Your last words as you left the council. Quite moving. I decided to follow you to see if it was true and to help if possible."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If what was true?  Why would you follow us?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am a Nye spy I was listening nearby. Where did you learn the language of the Drift?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was rushing and made no sense to me. I looked around to see if any of the boys had a clue what was going on.  Nope.  Guido looked confused and Mitch who's never confused looked puzzled. Paolo just had his jaw hanging open I don't think he had heard a word.  His eyes were transfixed where they shouldn't have been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ahem " I tried to catch Paolo's attention but he was too enraptured by her, drooling mindlessly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned back to her, Nope" we have no idea what you are talking about."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She drifted silently for a moment thinking what she should say next "You said 'Anju shiwa k'bat mias' which in the language of the Drift the old ones the first ones means We will return with a strong army. You have a rather small... army."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I said that?" I asked "Are you sure it didn't mean do you have any water?  Right now we could REALLY use some water."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I assumed you meant to go to Coign to raise your army. You spoke the language of the Drift so I thought you were in contact with them.  The Nye would do anything to contact the Drift so I followed. Now I really must leave." She turned to leave again. "These juhma catch the wind and slow your descent.  We use them to approach larger rocks in the system   but no one has ever returned from Coign. If I return to the Nye in time I will tell them to give you ten days to return with a sign from the Drift otherwise we will attack as planned. Good luck." And again she turned to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Does this mean you are helping us or... Are you helping us?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hi I'm Mitch." Mitch had floated closer and stuck is hand out she looked at it. "We're really not with him." Mitch got a great charming grin on his face, "Could you be a doll and guide us to... Nye right? Your place would be great."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She smiled again and shook her head, "Although the prospect is intriguing coming from a half naked man on the verge of almost certain death I cannot get involved more than I already have." She pointed to the line of corpses and to the dark expanse ahead. "The dead are flying themselves if I stay any longer I will never make it back either." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked at the line of dead.  Not one of them was moving.  Not even a peep. "What do you mean they are flying themselves?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Feel the wind. See the darkness getting closer? We are all in the grasp of Coign it is pulling us in. The dead are flying themselves."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's when I noticed that the wind was indeed getting stronger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked stern, "I MUST go." She turned and with powerful strokes or her arms and legs flew slowly away from us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch moved up beside me, "She's spunky.  I like that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paolo moved up beside me as well clutching his heart, "Nye spy with cute little eyes something that is..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch slapped him.  "Puttana.  Don't even think about it. She's way out of your league."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was moving away very slowly now. It looked more difficult flying for her than it had before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Shut up you guys she can probably still hear you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked at the darkness ahead.  It was clearing up.  Out of a mist I could see enormous rocks beginning to appear far off in the distance.  Soon I could hear the deafening rush of wind on those rocks even over the noise of our decent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey Mitch I asked as we moved toward them, Why do you call him Puttana?  I've never heard you call him that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch laughed out loud. "It means 'Whore'."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's the last I heard from Mitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rocks started to rush by us ad deadly close range.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nyra hadn't gotten far. She curled into a ball and started to fall back toward us. The rocks got larger and moisture was starting to build up as the mist got thicker. She fell toward us the wind ripping at her wings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Get out the jhuma!" She yelled over the noise. She was right beside us now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We opened the cloths that weren't already open and we each got one.  I wrapped the laptop up in one and tied it one end to my waist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Aim for the part that is moving away from us!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked back at the darkness where we were most likely going to die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My god.  It was huge. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One single rock shaped like a giant skipping stone cracked in half spun slowly ahead of us end over end.  We couldn't actually see it move at all but we could see the mist rushing off the edges.  It was almost like a coin but gargantuan.  It was bigger than anything I'd ever seen like a chunk of the world had been broken off and flung into the void.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We could only see one side and it was completely black. It blocked out all light.  Through that crag we could see a bright light streaming through. It was the sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the wind whipping around us we held on to both ends of our massive streamers and  fell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809901152287449?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809901152287449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809901152287449&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809901152287449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809901152287449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/nye-night.html' title='Nye Night'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809880475233792</id><published>2005-06-06T15:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T16:00:04.753-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Testing... Testing...</title><content type='html'>We're alive. We're alive!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido's leg has been snapped in two places. His bone is sticking out of his calf, but he's alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The laptop made it too.  I wrapped it and the batteries and the sattelite dish in it's own jhuma. It's in better shape than we are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's dark and wet.  It's raining.  We have to make some kind of shelter now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll explain later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809880475233792?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809880475233792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809880475233792&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809880475233792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809880475233792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/testing-testing.html' title='Testing... Testing...'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809875140718155</id><published>2005-06-06T15:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T15:59:11.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Peeling Off</title><content type='html'>We can see the shadow of Coign today.  It must be enormous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A darkness blocks nearly half the sky.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mourners saw it, said their last words and parted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other shadow that was following has gone too. I don't know what it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's me, Guido, Mitch and Paolo out here,  chained and wired to a hundred dead and stinking bodies.  The Quoort still drag us toward the darkness.  Quark has stopped and is twittering between us, listening to our conversation.  He looks either frightened, happy or nervous, I can't tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Mitch" is this a skillet?" I held up the skillety thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nope he replied, It looks like a wok. What's all that crap on it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked it over now that I actually could. It had a metal pin in the center and an electronic base and wires with a small phone jack  "I don't know. The Edro stuffed it in with my laptop and look batteries!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Great maybe we can cook something."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You didn't happen to be a locksmith in one of your past occupations did you?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No but I did." Guido showed that his hands were free. "Pretty good huh?  Did it without tools too!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well get us out then!" Mitch roared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido had found a pin among the numerous bits of stuff that adorned the bodies.  He took a few minuted to get Mitch free then went to Paolo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're not even locked up Puttana!" Paolo just had his hands bound behind his back with wire and was loosely tied to the bodies. "You could have gotten free the whole time!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But I didn't know that!" Paolo yelled "And stop calling me Puttana!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido got me free too after a while. While he was undoing my restraints he repeated in my ear "As soon as I have something to shoot you with as soon as I can find something to shoot you with." And I was free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't have any winged garments on so we had to move about by crawling over the bodies.  There wasn't much we could do except stay with them.  Floating off to nowhere would be suicide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it was getting warm.  With the lack of water and the heat we had to start removing clothing.  The pieces we removed started to slowly float backwards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two of the Quoorts peeled off and started back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey Mitch suggested, Maybe you or we can get your bird-thing to take us some where?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's a good idea I thought. So I said "That's a good idea."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I whistled for Quark tsk'ed called his name that I gave him and eventually he came over. "Hey buddy can you whisk us off to some place safe?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked confused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Umm. Can you fly me and my friends I pointed to the others, Somewhere?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He still looked confused.  I tried every bunch of words I could use to describe what i was trying to get him to do even hand gestures.  Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told the others "He doesn't understand"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Quark didn't look confused anymore and just made that Quoort noise. He went up to the front and made the Quoort noise again to the other Quoort.  The rest of them let go and flew around us giving us a wide berth and sailed off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good work there bud." Mitch said sarcastically. "Now what?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uhhh. I'm not so sure." I was looking off to the side at another dark spot moving toward us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It 's moving closer with big powerful strokes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That thing that was following us is almost on us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809875140718155?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809875140718155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809875140718155&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809875140718155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809875140718155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/peeling-off.html' title='Peeling Off'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809867603370087</id><published>2005-06-06T15:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T15:57:56.033-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dark Spot</title><content type='html'>Someone or something is following us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809867603370087?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809867603370087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809867603370087&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809867603370087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809867603370087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/dark-spot.html' title='The Dark Spot'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809863163196818</id><published>2005-06-06T15:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T15:57:11.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Got a Letter</title><content type='html'>We're still floating along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to hide my activities with the laptop from the people still with us.  They come around snooping every once in a while.  Kind of like at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edro managed to hide the laptop under a shroud.  I also found 3 spare batteries and a funny little metal device the size of a skillet.  I think it might even be a skillet, if I knew what a skillet was.  I'll have to ask Mitch when someone's not paying attention if it's a skillet.  He'll know. He use to have his own cooking column in the newspaper.  I'll bet he's handy with a skillet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wireless is holding up just fine.  The Edro even emailed me.  He said that hiding the laptop was the best he could do.  He couldn't rescue us.  People would notice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was even some strange dialogue saying that it was all for the best and stuff.  Thanks a lot Bedro and Jedro, two-faced twerps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got an email from my girlfriend. I've been sending her notes every once in a while.  She doesn't believe me. Not a word.  She wanted to know the numbers to my bank account so she could pay some bills, notably a large number of fines I've recieved.  Otherwise she'll sell my car. I guess I gotta let her.  Don't want to add 'failure to pay fines' to my list of fines.  I'm not a bad person. I follow the laws better than anyone I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said that the police have an A.P.B. out on me and the GMP boys.  They're still after me. And that they should be able to track me down using my I.P. address and coded messages in my email if I reply. She says she hopes they don't find me in Barbados with another woman or she'll empty my bank account and murder me.  I wish they would.  God I miss her already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I replied by email.  I told her that they would probably track me down to a university somewhere.  Possibly in a dryer. I hope they don't spend too much time decoding it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quark stopped pulling for a while and came back to see me.  I didn't have any seeds of course.  He didn't seem to mind.  I got to scratch his white fuzzy belly for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The people here are still sticking it out, following along till, The dead fly themselves"". Whatever that means."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if they'll wake up and grow wings and give off great beams of light like they do on those TV shows?  I'll bet that's what the people of garbage city think.  Retards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just now one of the people whooped!  There's a dark spot off in the distance.  Maybe it's that "Land of the Dead" they're talking about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809863163196818?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809863163196818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809863163196818&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809863163196818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809863163196818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/i-got-letter.html' title='I Got a Letter'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809854234045878</id><published>2005-06-06T15:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T15:55:42.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bug-Eyed Bitch</title><content type='html'>Well, the council sentenced us to death.  All three of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I was screwed. I thought we were going to die. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were brought before the council one at at time.  Mitch, Guido and Paolo all left the council chamber in chains at the point of a bamboo spear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was last. I tried negotiating with them but couldn't get past the fact that old, grizzled councillor number one was painting a small, bug-eyed dog green.  She was slopping on the paint while she read out my sentence, We have found you guilty of war crimes" bringing the Nye and destroying our culture."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What? We didn't bring the Nye!", I pleaded. "How can you find me guilty when there hasn't been a trial?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Proper process has been followed.  Everyone who needed to be spoken to was spoken to."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Councillor number three, a deathly skinny old man, nodded while she spoke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wasn't spoken to!", I interrupted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her dog yapped at me not to interrupt. "And they all remember you leading the Nye obviously scouting for them." She slopped on more paint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What? It's a coincidence!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And the slaughter of our people specifically a young girl..." She said.  The old man nodded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What? I stopped to help her!" I tried to stare down the yapping bug-eyed dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She continued, "And the poisoning of our people's minds and the destruction of our culture."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What culture? All you people do is watch television!  You don't even have a name for yourselves! You don't have any culture.  Well.. except for that." I stared at her disfigured dog being lathered in a disgusting pantone 382.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We are each unique. We call ourselves what we want", her dog stared back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unique my ass. They're insane. All of them. What was the deal with the stupid dog? It wouldn't stop yapping, so I tried the eye. You know. That eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's lesson is, don't try to stare down a chihuahua, you'll simply never win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Our connection to the World has been lost.  For that alon, you must die."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was new.  I knew the connection wasn't lost.  The Edro still had the chasm stone that went to the school.  I had even helped him get it running.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you like my puppy? Isn't he cute?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't lie maybe it was a test, "I hate your puppy it's the ugliest thing I've ever seen."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's second lesson is: Don't piss off an old lady with a green chihuahua.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The three of you will be filleted and taken back to the Nye to show what we think of their leaders."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Filleted?  I don't have a choice? I'm sure Mitch would prefer a nice kabob I said sarcastically, And how can you sentence Paolo? I thought he was your hero?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We saw through the deception of your cunning friend. No you must be dead if Nye return."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If? They said they were coming back to get the stuff you stole!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If they return we will defeat them again." She said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You didn't defeat them they retreated to give you a chance to surrender the stuff you stole!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We killed hundreds of them with very few casualties."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was shocked at her statement, "Have you looked outside?" I thought hard and fast. "Why can't you just shove us back through one of your holes?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't try your mind games with us. That is even a worse crime. It is too late. You will be filleted today." She said with finality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But.. Umm.." I said trying to come up with an ingenious escape on the spot, "So... you know how um... my people... um... treat martyrs?  What they would do to you if they saw me filleted out there without so much as a single spice or even an apple in my mouth?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything stopped except for the yapping mutt. For a whole minute. She looked at the other two coucillors who appeared sleepy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We have considered this and you must still die."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"However you must now follow the dead."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So they took my laptop chained me up and lead me out. I yelled back "You are making a mistake! The Nye will return!  You are doomed! And your chihuahua can bite my ass!"&lt;br /&gt;They brought Mitch Guido and Paolo out to the long line of dead the ones I had helped gather cover and string together. We were being sent to the land of the dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bedro and Jedro helped fasten me to one of them somber but unworried. They told me that no one has ever returned ever returned from Coign. "Coign is what's left when the Gods crumbled the world. Don't worry that's where we all came from." They said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems the families of the dead will follow until they see the first shadow of Coign. Then they turn back.  The three of us doomed must carry on until the dead fly themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We headed out.  Quoorts pulled the train. Quark was with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The citizens were not worried at all about the impending return of the Nye as long as we were going. Not worried at all.  They painted and adorned their deceased family members with glossy magazine photos and trinkets and followed us. Strangely silent for two days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most mourners quit following one day out. After two everyone was getting antsy thirsty and hungry but a few were prepared. About ten were left widely spaced apart silently following their own family members. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's when I found that Bedro had hidden the laptop when Jedro's back was turned.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809854234045878?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809854234045878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809854234045878&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809854234045878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809854234045878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/bug-eyed-bitch.html' title='Bug-Eyed Bitch'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809831904187384</id><published>2005-06-06T15:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T15:51:59.046-07:00</updated><title type='text'>String of Corpses</title><content type='html'>Mitch tried to light a corpse on fire today. He almost suffocated himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He tried matches first, but when they went out, he tried a lighter.  You would not believe how many Bics and Zippos they have.  I swear a few dozen of them I lost in the dryer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cloud of smoke got bigger and bigger and Mitch couldn't push away fast enough.  Then the fire smothered itself in it's own smoke. People laughed at him and told him to try it again. He didn't. He's not that stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Paolo has been playing with a matches all day. They go out in seconds and make a big clouds of smoke. The tiny flames are a pretty blue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their custom is actually to escort the dead to a place called Coign. I don't know if it really exists or not but they say it's where they all came from in the beginning, so that's where they go in the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been helping with identifying, bagging and counting the dead.  312 so far.  I don't know how many wounded. I estimate their entire population at about 4500. I think the Nye lost maybe 8 or so. I don't like those odds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're stringing them together in a line, ready for the journey. Each in a fabric bag that gets decorated by the family if they're lucky.  Some have no bags.  Some have no family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest are gearing up for another battle.  Some want to take the fight to the Nye instead of waiting for their return. I think it's stupid. We may have out numbered them here, but we did not outfight them. Taking the fight into their territory is insane. We have no weapons. These people have no brains for offense, defense or reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've tried to tell them that this fighting and dying for chasm rocks is insane.  A few of them understand.  Mitch was convinced immediately and I think he wants to get out of here.  I think he wants to learn how to fly and fight like the Nye.  Who knows, it could be a whole new career.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway I have learned so much from the Edro and others about this place it's impossible to write down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a little while ago I was told to appear before their Council.  I didn't even know they had a council. I am to be punished for bringing the Nye. I don't know what that the punishment is, but I know they are not going to behead me.  Swinging an axe is near impossible.  I tried.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809831904187384?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809831904187384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809831904187384&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809831904187384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809831904187384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/string-of-corpses.html' title='String of Corpses'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809736868126083</id><published>2005-06-06T15:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T15:36:08.686-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dark Day into Night</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;We are at war.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I was asleep, floating in the Edro's nest of tech, when the screaming started. Half asleep, I managed to make it to an opening and look out at the dawn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a wall of archers, men and women, maybe 150 strong, aiming arrows at us. They wore dark browns and reds and had what looked like pilots wings on, but much stiffer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That was a warning, next time we will not miss" cried an archer I couldn't see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People all about the city either gathered inside for safety or outside to make a stand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh shit" whispered the Edro and they started gathering chasm stones and hiding them. (Chasm Stones; That's what they call the rock portals)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What the hell?" I asked the Edro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's the Wing!  The Wing of the Nye!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People from inside the city gathered outside and shouted at them "We'll fight to the death!" shaking sharpened lawn mower blades small knives sticks and anything they could gather to fight with. "We'll never give you our stones! Except these!" and they threw exhausted stones and garbage. "Go back where you came from Nye-leeeches!"  From that distance the Nye easily avoided the projectiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You have stolen what is rightfully ours!" A voice came from the cloud of Nye archers, "That is your third and last warning."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked the Edro what was going on.  They told me the Nye were a people that lived a fair distance away and that they were looking for stolen chasm stones.  It seems the Pilots finding fewer and fewer unclaimed stones had been starting to liberate them from neighbouring peoples.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The crowd inside and out were screaming obscenities and repeatedly confirming their willingness to fight and die to protect the stones, "We'll never surrender!"&lt;br /&gt;These guys watch way too much TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had learned from Edro that most of their food water and some building materials were obtained naturally.  They grew lichen grass and a variety of edible plants I'd never seen before. They shot wild birds (not Quoorts I asked) and raised domesticized ones.  And yes it tastes like chicken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this confrontation was purely about entertainment trinkets and garbage that they got from the other side.  Our world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The crowd outside was almost in the face of the Nye. Madly taunting them. Then one of them threw a sharpened bamboo spear and struck an archer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was frenzy the crowd of citizens charged.  The Nye began to cut them down with single arrow shots and advanced. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They came closer and closer. With each arrow they expertly kicked forward while they shot to keep from spinning backwards and shot again at their assailants but they were losing men and women too. The crowd was savagely attacking them killing them with spears and awkwardly bludgeoning or hacking them with found objects. The Edro told me to hide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know what to do.  Their seemed to be no side to be on except my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three Nye came in through an opening.  The Edro grabbed pieces of the battery enclosure to fight with and began to beat on them.  They are a lot tougher than you'd think and the two of them being permanently back-to-back gives them a defensive advantage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last archer glided toward me and eyed the largest chasm stone the Edro had not been able to hide, "Give us the stones."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I eyed him right back.  Then said, "Okay!" and stepped out of the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They completely disassembled the place looking for stones.  More Nye showed up and they wouldn't let me get to the Edro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beaten back the Edro huddled behind car batteries with their hands over their heads begging for...something, "I knew they were doing it! I knew it!  They told me the found them but I knew they were stealing them. And I didn't say anything. I didn't say anything!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man with an arrow through his eye floated into the opening in front of me. I pushed it away. I saw an archer get gutted by a kitchen knife another garotted with a mouse cord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I saw Mitch and Guido. They were trying to fight right alongside the crowd.  I cried out, "NO MITCH!  NO!" and started out through the Nye through the people fleeing through the people flying earnestly toward battle through the wide passages shops and bunk areas after them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man who had a spear got an arrow in the eye and stopped moving suddenly in mid air.&lt;br /&gt;I saw a girl armed with a piece of chain struck in the throat by an arrow. She looked at me in panic and garlgled blood floated away.  I stopped but what was I to do?  I felt so helpless.  She wheezed and her hands grabbed at her throat.  She managed to get hold of it and pull it out with blood gushing everywhere. I was covered in it. I took her hand and put it over the gaping wound and told her to hold it. Then she passed out. I wanted to stay but I had to get to Mitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There must be something I can do I thought.  Something.  I thought of calling the Quoorts in to peck at the archers but couldn't stand the thought of using the creatures that way even if I could.  I thought of cannons and airplanes and dynamite and swords and bombs...but there was nothing of the sort around. There wasn't anything to blow up shoot or throw. I wanted to have the answer. To do something.  To end it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man was screaming from multiple arrow wounds in the ear stomache and legs. People don't die right away it's slow. Very slow. There was moaning and wailing everywhere. The dead and wounded floated by. It was sick.  It was the most heart-wrenching horrible thing I had ever seen.  It wasn't funny not funny at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Nye were well in the complex now. They were ransacking quarters and dispatching those who attacked them. I started showing my hands empty whenever a Nye appeared and they left me alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made it to the outside and saw Mitch and Guido protecting themselves with garbage can lids trying to twist the heads off a couple Nye and beat them with their knees and hands without much success.  They had no purchase and no experience fighting in mid-air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mitch stop!" I yelled.  Then I heard a loud thumping.  In the distance a huge drum was being beaten.  The Nye started to retreat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to Mitch and Guido and told them to let go of the two archers they had headlocks on. I tried to tell them about the theft and how I didn't know who was in the right. "This isn't a good fight!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They let go of the two Nye and they shot off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No it isn't a good fight" Mitch said, "Guido is useless"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey I had your back!" Guido complained "At least I don't do this", and he mad a feeble pawing motion in the air then grinned at me "Mitch hits like a girl."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A horn sounded and a voice cried out, "We are the Wing of the Nye! You have taken from us and we have taken from you! But our mission is not complete. We will spare you if you return the rest of the stones. We will return. Consider your next actions carefully."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And they turned and glided off carrying their wounded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paolo appeared hand-in-hand with a frightened teary-eyed girl. "Hey there I told you I'd be your hero didn't I?" He patted her and she tried to smirk. He looked at us, "Wha'd I miss?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch gave him a look, "That's a completely different girl Paolo."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know" Paolo grinned "So?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido moved in, "Puttana! You missed Mitch hitting like a girl!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch slapped him and sent him spinning off a bit, "Where were you anyway?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Umm. Exercising.  This place is great for building your upper body strength", Paolo pulled the girl a little closer, "With the right partner!  You wouldn't believe the positions..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I meant during the fighting!" Mitch stormed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh that.  I got me some of that too!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As it turns out they think Paolo is a hero.  He saved the girl's family and quite a few others who found themselves in harm's way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These rediculous people are now celebrating.  I tried to warn them that the Nye were coming back and that they should negotiate or something but they wouldn't listen they are too busy cheering Paolo.  They think he's a genius too.  He's out there telling them all the things he's learned from Discovery Channel and of course mating habits of the gravitationally gifted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch is collecting bodies and helping to rebuild and actually improving their designs tenfold.  He said he used to build houses when he was in the Navy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido has found a group of like-minded people that he's entertaining with moral stories like, "What you steal is rightfully yours", and, "If you can beat their security then they deserve to lose it." He has quite the following.  I think they are getting charged up to battle again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's dark and quiet but for an ocassional hoot from where Paolo is partying. I'm in here with the Edro trying to put his contraptions back together.  We just now got the power up and the net going.  I'm trying to be cheerful about tonight or tomorrrow. But really here in the night right now I'm dreading the inevitable return of the Nye.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809736868126083?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809736868126083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809736868126083&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809736868126083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809736868126083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/dark-day-into-night.html' title='Dark Day into Night'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809592518404488</id><published>2005-06-06T15:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T15:12:05.190-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Garage Sale City</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I have power now, lots of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's difficult to explain, so I'll carry on where I left off. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It was dark, but it was day by our internal clocks so we slept fitfully, here and there. Every once in a while we would yell to each other to be sure we were all still there and not picked off by some creature that may be flying around.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It was a long, long night.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Daylight slowly crept around us, then a slight fog, or mist.  I figure we were inside a cloud.  It clung to us, teasing us with its promise of moisture. God we were thirsty, and very hungry.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My shirt got a bit damp.  I guess everyone's did.  I took it off and tried waving it to dry it off but we were still in the cloud. Then I had the idea of using it to fan air in the direction of Mitch and Guido to propel me toward Paolo.  It worked a bit.  I was slowly moving but my arms eventually tired.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I yelled to Paolo to try it, partly to gauge where he was, but he didn't understand.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then something with enormous wings whooshed past me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ignoring the pain in my arms I waved my shirt like mad to at least get to where I could see Paolo.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It flew by again, behind me, slower this time. I thought it was slowing for the kill.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I could see a Paolo-shaped blob when I craned my neck around.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The creature flew right in front of me, almost in my face and backpeddaled with it's wings, blowing wind in my face.  It was the creature I had named Quark.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This time I had a close-up full view of the creature. The entire creature was what I previously thought was just the head.  He was almost perfectly round. Soft white feathers made him disappear against the cloud. He has his little kittens paws outstretched, and he had one huge blue eye the size of a CD, centered, right above his hooked beak. He was beautiful, acrobatic, perfectly designed for flying where there was nowhere to land.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;He stopped. "Quoooort?" Then he moved toward me with tiny movements of the tips of his wings.  He looked me in the eye" then he moved down and nibbled my hand.  He remembered the sunflower seeds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Okay boy.." I whispered "I don't have any seeds anymore."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Quoo Oort?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sorry." I showed him my empty hands. "But if you could fly towards Paolo over there maybe he has some."  The creature actually looked where I pointed.  I was hoping to hang on to it somehow and catch a ride.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But he looked at me for far too long to be a simple creature then flew behind me and caught my belt in those little paws of his.  With big powerful thrusts of his wings and an unbelievable grip on my belt he dragged me belt-first over to Paolo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paolo couldn't believe his eyes "What is that!?" he asked when we finally stopped in front (under actually) of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's a...um...I don't know." I fumbled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Quoort?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"One of the creatures that lives here I guess.  Or THE creature that lives in this place.  I really don't know." I put on my shirt. "He's pretty smart too."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Quoort!" and the creature 'Quark' I guess nibbed Paolo's hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paolo looked at Quark with absolute facination as it moved to his other hand "Cooool!"  He managed to touch it on the (head?) with his other hand "He's so soft!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah.  Hey um.. Quark can I call you Quark?" I didn't have a clue what I was doing. "Do you think you could find my other friends?" and I pointed through the mist toward where I thought Mitch and Guido might be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quark was obviously not stupid.  He grabbed me by the belt. I had very little time to grab Paolo by the shirt and we were on our way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to Mitch and Guido and they were arguing who was going to eat who first.  Mitch was bigger so he thought he's last longer but Guido had a bit more fat so he thought he'd last longer.  Neither one relished the thought of munching up the other without a good selection of spices.  And garlic.  Mitch said Guido's forearms would be devine with some good roast garlic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had barely enough time to grab hold of each other when Quark took off again dragging the whole lot of us. Fidgeting and complaining. Upside down and backwards with no idea where we were going. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm going to shoot you when we get out of this" threatened Guido.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I've seen you shoot" I snapped back at him "I'd just stay still and I'd be the safest thing in the world"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Mitch laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we were dragged along for an entire day.  The went down and the light came up again then it was about dusk.  Or whatever you'd call it here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We could see a gargantuan dark blob in the distance with lights of all colours all over. Some sparkling in and out some flashing on and off with no pattern to their timing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we flew closer it got larger and larger. It looked like an entire city of garbage floating in the sky. As we slowed we saw people. And they saw us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They gathered.  They are a strangely shaped people. Some of them wore what looked like flippers and little wings sewn into their clothes and others had enormous long silken wings trailing far past their legs and arms made of some silky fabric and stiffened with reeds or bamboo or something.  They billowed when they moved toward us and trailed elegantly when they stopped. Some of them were fat with very thin legs and tiny arms. Some were extremely thin except for their shoulders.    All of them garishly coloured and wore some kind of shirt with a picture or a logo on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw a fat man wearing a shirt with a glossy magazine shot of Brittany Spears stuck to it.  There were three deathly thin pre-teens with 'A-Team' t-shirts and some older ladies with the car from 'Knight-Rider' seemingly bursting out of their chests. One sleepy-eyed individual wore the cover of a 'Warcraft' box on his chest. And they all carried cell phones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quark seemed intent on dragging us right by them but we let go and coasted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A girl about 34 in bright pink and purple with a 'Nike' shirt and long pink silk wings approached us.  She was thin but beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you like from the World?" she asked. She had a recognizable accent but I couldn't place it.&lt;br /&gt;"Umm..Uhh"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They murmured between themselves "The World?" and "They're from The World!"&lt;br /&gt;"I guess so." I stated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wow!  What's it like to run?" she asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a silly question. I thought but I answered "Um it's like uh running...and there's sweating."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh!  Sweat! Yeah only Pilots sweat." She said â€œExcept when there are pterodactyls then everybody sweats!" she looked back at the group with a knowing grin and they laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uh oh. I thought. This is a prehistoric place with nasty creatures.  We were going to die trying to fly away from giant reptiles with wings and sweating... But why were they smiling?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you have any ice cream?" Paolo blurted. "Or soda? Or beer? Water would do."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The wine!" they all looked very pleased with themselves "We can open the wine!" And they surrounded us and drag us toward the floating town pestering us with questions about TV shows and asking us if we knew certain celebrities. They were not a very bright bunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you heroes?" the girl asked Paolo as she dragged him obviously enamoured with his size.&lt;br /&gt;"No but I could be for you!" Paolo grinned lustily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Puttana!" Guido barked. Paolo pretended to stop staring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The town was held together with twist-ties string cords from appliances wire...just about anything that could be used to lash things together. There were walls of fabric microwaves TV's car parts pillows cardboard wrinkled magazines and junk.  It looked like a catastrophic tornado had picked up every garage sale in the country and deposited it here where they lashed it together into whatever shelter they could arrange.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seemed that in the past they had acquired a box of wine and had been holding on to it for a special occasion.  That turned out to be us.  Guido and Paolo thirstily dove into the wine but Mitch and I gladly accepted water that was offered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I only drink with beautiful and intelligent ladies" he rudely quipped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gave him the eye.  That eye. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He knew what it meant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through the incessant questioning I learned that 'Pilots' the ones who wear the Nike shirts are the basically the scouts or the long-haul operators. They go off in every direction looking for larger holes like the one we came through then come back and send out Quoorts (Yes that's what they call them too) to wait by the holes and retrieve anything that comes through. &lt;br /&gt;Many of the people here have their very own holes in their apartments domiciles or whatever they call them and routinely catch whatever pops out.  The holes seem to have a limit to what amount of mass can pass through either way.  The one we came through puttered out and died because the mass of the three of us was all it could handle.  They don't even dare to stick their hands to grab things through their own portals for fear of wasting potential mass.  The act of sticking their hands through could make it impossible for other objects to pass through.&lt;br /&gt;I asked them why they all had some picture or logo on their clothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It represents who we are the girl said with pride (I found out her name was Evinianna), Each of us wears whatever we feel is really us we're all unique.  We're just being ourselves. I'm a Pilot. What are you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Umm. I don't know.  I'm just me." I replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You SHOULD wear something that represents who you are you know. I mean jeez even WE know what it's like in YOUR world."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They have internet and television.  All they know from our world is from what they download or watch on TV. And that seems to be all they do except for piloting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their cell phones don't even work.  They are just for show and social status.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked where they get their water their power and their internet connections.  They told me that they gather water from rocks and have special metal and foil arrays that condense water from the mist when it passes through.  Then they told me that for the power and internet stuff I had better meet the Edro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They gave us gifts of little flippers and winged clothing so that we could get around and be social. Guido and Paolo were getting drunk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were taking me to see him (it? she?) when a girl approached Paolo and lasciviously whispered something about going to her bunk. "It's okay" she said "Loman got a gift of pterodactyls I traded for one." and she nodded to a something she had palmed.  It seems they replace words they can't pronounce like prophylactic with an equally difficult words like pterodactyl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I followed Evinianna to go see the Edro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inside a dark space was a wall of car batteries wires computer pieces.  In it watching a video floated the Edro. They were conjoined twins joined at the back and shoulders. One's name was Bedro The other Jedro.  They called him/them 'The Edro'. They too were ridiculously thin and they were quiet. Not speaking unless spoken to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked about the internet and the power. They quietly showed me a hole into the real world where they got a wireless connection just like I had.  This one is connected to a school where nobody notices a massive amount of bandwidth being siphoned off to entertain the populace. He also showed me a huge array of solar cells from Radio Shack from solar powered calculators small windmills that generate power from the wind and used engine parts from lawn mowers. All of them meticulously wired together into an array of car and toy batteries that lead to a mass of switches transformers and other electrical paraphernalia.  There must be millions of parts here all simply missing from our world.  The array generates enough power to give select individuals internet and power.  Usually a group will gather around a laptop or a television to watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know where Mitch and Guido are.  Quark hasn't left my side even though I have no sunflower seeds. And you and I both know where Paolo is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me I'm tired after trying to talk to the Edro. I'm not getting much out but I'm going to hang (literally) around here for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny thing about this place you can crash anywhere.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809592518404488?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809592518404488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809592518404488&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809592518404488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809592518404488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/garage-sale-city.html' title='The Garage Sale City'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809564921588366</id><published>2005-06-06T15:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T15:07:29.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So Quiet, So Dark</title><content type='html'>It got dark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so quiet here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once the light started to fade, it took about an 20 minutes to get completely black. You can't even see your hand in front of your face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just powering up the laptop so they boys can see where I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing has changed, we're still about 100 feet from each other I think.  I can't see them anymore, but they can see the light from the laptop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We tried talking to each other for a while but we exhausted every version of ,Where do you think we are? I dunno. Do you think we're going to get out of here? I dunno."" that we could come up with. We tried telling jokes.  None of them were funny. And yelling takes more energy than I care to expend right now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so dark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're all thirsty as hell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809564921588366?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809564921588366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809564921588366&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809564921588366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809564921588366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/so-quiet-so-dark.html' title='So Quiet, So Dark'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809559758198411</id><published>2005-06-06T15:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T15:06:37.583-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nowhere and Nothing</title><content type='html'>This is just great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we're stuck on the other side. Mitch told me that as soon as I came through, the hole fizzled out and dissappeared. It's amazing this laptop still gets a connection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as I stepped through and there was no ground to step on, my gut churned and I almost threw up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This place is just blue, like sky in every direction. There's no up or down.  The hole I came through was just a ring of black, left on a rock the size of a buick, floating in whatever you call this place. I hung, clinging to the grass and plants that grew on the rock. Mitch told me the only way to stop from loosing his wondeful cooking was to focus on the rock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gradually the nausea went away, but every time I closed my eyes it rushed back.  Guido and Mitch were patient.  They had gone through the same thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I came around, they pointed to a slowly spinning, Paolo-shaped dark spot approximately a mile away.  I let cautiously let go of the grass and pointed the extinguisher at the rock.&lt;br /&gt;Never, ever fire an extinguisher without first finding your center of gravity, especially when there is none.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the nausea came back when I sent myself spinning off.  This time I could not focus on the rock because it was zipping by so fast.  I had to close my eyes, calm down and guage the direction I was spinning or, rather, which direction Mitch, Guido and the rock were furiously racing around me.  A few spurts sent it zipping in another direction. A few spurts slowed it down.  Too many sped it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's how I learned to fly by fire extinguisher. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido and Mitch had the other extinguisher and were still hanging onto the rock, so I set off after Paolo.  I should have told them to stay put.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once you're going at a descent clip in one direction, it's no big deal to spin around and actually face that direction with another spurt of fire retardant. So I was keeping my eyes on the Paolo-shaped blob up ahead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was about halfway there, I turned around and saw a Mitch and Guido shaped blob spinning and generally coming in my direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They could hear me yell but it doesn't carry clearly, they sounded much further off than they were. I could hear Paolo yelling something too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's when I kind of ran out of fire retardant.  There was no real pressure left, just a spewing up of foam and goo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took about 10 minutes to lose inertia and by that time I was still a distance from Paolo.  Hi!"" He smiled and waved" "Do you have any water?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch and Guido almost made it to me.  They had a little more inertia and didn't mess around nearly as much learning to fly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we're stuck here floating in this nowehere place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The laptop only has enough power left for one blog entry I think. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've emailed my girlfriend too.  Telling her the situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you don't hear from me in about a day please please find a hole in your dryer washer wardrobe or something and come after us? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809559758198411?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809559758198411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809559758198411&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809559758198411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809559758198411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/nowhere-and-nothing.html' title='Nowhere and Nothing'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809551429183664</id><published>2005-06-06T15:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T15:05:14.293-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll be Back for Breakfast</title><content type='html'>So you know I shoved a bunch of goons through a hole in my dryer last night, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if I could dispose of nuclear waste in there? I hear they charge a lot for that. I could make a few bucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the cops left, I tried to tell my girlfriend what really happened, but with my luck...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to remember not to tell anyone, ever again.  Apparently I am not only insane, but a liar, a pancakehole and a few other enlightened expletives that would usually be erogenous coming from a womans's mouth, if it weren't for all the gnashing teeth and flying spittle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She thinks the boys snuck out the side door somehow and swears she's taking off with Mitch when he comes back for her. When I told her Mitch was not on the planet anymore she was not understanding, logical, kind, lovely or compassionate. She was like something Paolo would watch on Discovery Channel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My girlfriend and I now have an understanding. I have to sleep in the basement and...no, never mind. There's no understanding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bah! She'll calm down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I headed downstairs to bang my head against something more forgiving than she was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pssst!" It was Guido, whispering from the dryer "Are they gone yet?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah whats going on in there?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Goddammit! Mitch and Paolo are floating off! Give me a rope!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Floating off?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Just get me a goddamn rope!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I moved the dryer off to the side so I could get a better look. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yup.  Mitch was still squirming in mid air and Paolo was almost out of sight. They were't moving fast.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't have any rope.  I had a bunch of 50' network cables jumper cables extension cords and stuff but no rope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent most of the night trying to get them out but no amount of cable would reach Paolo. We managed to get Mitch back so that he could hang on the the rock or hole or whatever they were hanging on to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I passed my laptop through so they wouldn't be bored today. They can pick up my wireless connection from the other side. Very cool. They spent almost all of today in there playing Sponge Bob games waiting for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now I have a better idea.  Something I learned from watching Star Trek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went shopping today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm heading out Dear!" I yelled upstairs. "Don't wait up!  I'll be back for breakfast!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm taking a couple of shiny new fire extinguishers with me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809551429183664?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809551429183664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809551429183664&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809551429183664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809551429183664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/ill-be-back-for-breakfast.html' title='I&apos;ll be Back for Breakfast'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809538371274956</id><published>2005-06-06T15:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T15:03:03.713-07:00</updated><title type='text'>By the Seat of their Pants</title><content type='html'>My girlfriend got a phone call.  And guess what?  She offered to babysit today!  With 2 mafia rejects and one wanted crimininal in the house!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was unelievably fun though, watching Paolo argue over lego with a 7 year-old kid, teaching him how to make fart noises with his armpit, the two of them pouting when they didn't get a turn at Spiro the Dragon and absolutely refusing to open the hooked-on-phonics book. Paolo only learned to read last year, and the guy's almost 40.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido taught the kid how to kill a man by breaking his nose and shoving the cartilage into his brain, a lockhold that would choke a man to death with very little effort and how to unlock doors with a credit card. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch taught him the importance of aged cheddar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A police officer appeared at the door. Where he came from we didn't know.  The four of us bolted downstairs and kept quiet as we could while my girlfriend got the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did we want to donate to the Police Bonspiel?  5% of the proceeds go to charity and the other 95% go to padding some bureauocrat's pocket and getting a bunch of cops drunk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, thank you very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all barely contained a sigh of relief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How about a few dollars to buy jerseys for the Police hockey team? No?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he asked the kid, Is your Uncle home?"""&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uncle Paolo Uncle Guido Uncle Mitch or Uncle Keyare?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes them.  Thank you." And then we heard him step away from the door and call someone on his radio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were done for. Or I thought at least Guido was. But those boys banded together and then they told me I was "One of the gang."  And that we'd go down fighting . Together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How did I get into this? I just wanted to find my sock!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I thought of a long shot.  Maybe we could shove Guido through the hole!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was very small but with two of them pulling at the sides they could stretch it.  It took a LOT of pulling and tugging but to keep the story short we shoved Guido though head first into the dark. He was in agony because of all the welts and he was bellowing into the void.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got him to where his legs were sticking out when we heard a bull horn announce that the occupants of the building should exit hands above head.  We were trying!  Believe me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paolo freaked and started pounding on Guidos backside.  It worked. He popped through.  Paolo was next He wasn't as difficult as Guido.  His backside didn't have the same girth.  Mitch would be impossible for me to push through alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a knock at the door.  I could see lights flashing all around.  Footsteps were on the deck and in the back yard and I heard talking by the window. We were surrounded. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the other side Guido stuck his hands through and urged "Come on Mitch!" And together we got Mitch through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My girlfriend wonderful sweet brilliant person she is opened the door and invited the police in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was still moving the dryer back into position when my girlfriend came down the stairs followed by three police officers in full battle gear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh did you get the dryer working?" she asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uh.  No? Yes.  No but it works. You were right.  It does work. Yes it does."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the cops are still here grilling me.  Asking me where they went.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm telling them I don't know. And really I have no idea.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809538371274956?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809538371274956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809538371274956&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809538371274956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809538371274956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/by-seat-of-their-pants.html' title='By the Seat of their Pants'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809531765359742</id><published>2005-06-06T15:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T15:01:57.653-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Super Guido</title><content type='html'>I haven't gone to work today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The three of us are covered in bruises and welts and it hurts, a lot. So Guido, Paolo and I are watching Spiderman.  Paolo talks too much though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch made breakfast and is now making lunch.  He refuses to watch the new Spiderman cartoons because of the violence. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He say's people never used to die in the old series so he's puttering in the kitchen, compaining about the quality of  produce we have and making relish out of some old pickles. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He says he used to be a chef.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think he's just mad at us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or showing off for my girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's a very emotional guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido made the front page sideline today.  He's so proud that he's still hugging the newspaper to his chest. A little while ago he was parading around, slapping the paper saying, "I'm wanted! I'm a vigilante!" as if he WAS Spiderman. "Not many people in my line of work make it on to the front page", he boasted.  "Some of us work all our lives and never get on the front page.  I'm famous!  I'll need copies of this.  I neeed to send one to my mother.  Can we get more?  Let's go.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch threw a tomato at him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smack right on a welt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had to get him a special chair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of us are kind of nervous  each a different flavour of tense. Everytime we hear a vehicle one of us rushes to the window and peeks out the side to be sure it's not a police cruiser.  Three have already driven by today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the noose is slowly closing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809531765359742?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809531765359742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809531765359742&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809531765359742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809531765359742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/super-guido.html' title='Super Guido'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809505074611001</id><published>2005-06-06T14:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T14:58:02.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Quiet Afternoon in the Park</title><content type='html'>What a couple of days!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I managed to get back alive, I didn't think I would for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I came out of the Police Station the car was gone and Paolo was still behind the park bench, but leaning on the crate we had taken from the van. Guido was gone. When I asked Paolo where he was he said he was, "Out foraging for food". In a park in the middle of the city. What a goon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But a little while later Guido appeared with 2 big Macs each and 2 cokes to share between the three of us. I didn't get any.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said he liberated them from some fat people and was very proud of the fact he was doing his bit for their health.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he tore into me about getting Mitch out of jail and how it was all my fault when he suddenly said "This is the part where where we shoot you." And Paolo got way too excited.&lt;br /&gt;He opened the crate that I had been lugging around for them. Inside were three enormous old machine guns like tommy guns but huge!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I freaked. I won't describe it but it involved lots of hitting to calm me down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Guido told me "Run."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But!" I begged. I'm not very good at begging. Words don't come to me at the best of times so I'm surprised I got even that out. My grandmother used to tell me I talked too much and that if my hands worked as fast as my mouth I'd me rich. I guess I took it to heart but I'm not rich yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And if we miss we'll track you down" he pointed to the ground and smiled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I looked at the ground and saw about a kamillion footprints in the snow. It was after all a public park. I figured the tracking bit was a cunning ploy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I didn't take the time to figure it out I ran.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not two seconds later I heard the RATTATTATTATTATT of the machine guns and I weaved and I ran and dove behind trees and weaved and ran until my legs were going to fall off and I thought I was going to die of just running. I could hear every impact of the bullets hitting things all around me until I was well out of range. I ran until I was on the other side of the park and dove into a taxi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's when I realised that the gunshots weren't as loud as normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I got the taxi driver to drop me off at the police station.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido and Paolo were pointing at the ground arguing over which of the kamillion footprints were mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I got the last fully-automatic paintball gun out of the crate snuck up behind them and shot them both in the ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much fun was had. Were were all drenched water snow and paint and it hurt like hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I was just happy to be alive. I went into the police station to get Mitch dripping with paint. I didn't say a word just signed him out and paid. They only gave me one more ticket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My girlfriend was actually quite accomodating and picked us up. We got paint all over the car and Mitch was fuming again but didn't say a word till we got home. They told me that while in the station they had watched the car get ticketed and towed. I of course got the ticket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those guys showered until there was no water left three times and slept in the basement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I had to go to work and when I got home the car was spotless the toilet was fixed and Guido and paolo were vacuuming and dusting while watching Discovery Channel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch was downstairs. I went down and right away he said "I want to show you something."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He bodily picked what was left of the dryer and moved it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hole stayed in place. Hovering in mid air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really sore. It's just me and Mitch down here. We're trying to figure out where it goes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809505074611001?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809505074611001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809505074611001&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809505074611001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809505074611001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/quiet-afternoon-in-park.html' title='A Quiet Afternoon in the Park'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809473351359239</id><published>2005-06-06T14:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T14:52:13.513-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fair Grounds?</title><content type='html'>I'm on a public internet access kiosk in the police station.  I can barely read this with all the stupid sponsors ads clogging the screen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitch is in the drunk tank.  Still.  The regular jail cells aren't allowed to be used because of something political involving sponsors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to talk to him for a bit.  He says when he saw a police car he simply pulled into the nearest parking lot to avoid them.  It just happened to be a lake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently they can't charge him with drunk driving because he is an illegal immigrant and he doesn't have a driver's licence. His lawyer is charging me with contributing to impairment. And the police are charging me with harbouring an illegal immigrant. I saw them grin and change the 266 to 267 on a white board when they handed me the charges.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I fingered them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They handed me a ticket for disrespecting an officer of the peace. They changed the number from 267 to 268.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "What the hell is this? You can't.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They handed me a ticket for disrupting the peace. It changed to 269.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They handed me a ticket for impeding the duties of an officer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;270. I heard a Whoo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They handed me a ticket for tossing midgets without a permit between the hours of 1:00 and 6:00 am on unsanctioned fair grounds inside the city limits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I walked over to this kiosk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It will be four days before an immigration officer comes to the city. So till then they're releasing him into my custody.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have three hours to blow before the paperwork is done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope Guido and Paolo are behaving themselves.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809473351359239?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809473351359239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809473351359239&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809473351359239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809473351359239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/fair-grounds.html' title='Fair Grounds?'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809454967687144</id><published>2005-06-06T14:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T14:50:20.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In the Mouth of the Contract Agreement</title><content type='html'>Guido turned to race the police sirens out of the city when I had an idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido STOP!"" I yelled. We were only about a block from the police station and the sirens were off in the distance in every direction. "Keep going toward the police station and park in front!""&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido wild eyed yelled "You ARE insane!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No! All the cars are out on patrol there's never any police cars at the station. It's the safest place in the city! Plus if the very car they are looking for is parked in front of the police station they'll assume we've already been caught! We were going there anyway to get Mitch. You can't run off without Mitch can you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido grinned headed for the police station. He turned and said "No."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It takes hours to get cars out of the station! They can't send out new ones they all have patrol shedules. It would violate their union agreement! They can only have so many officers on patrol at one time. They're probably going to set up a patrol perimeter probably 10 minutes around the ice cream place waiting to catch us on the way out of the city and then tighten the noose around the ice cream place if we don't come out but they'll skip the station! We HAVE to stay inside the perimeter!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He winked "You think like Mitch".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't like that comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We pulled up in front of the police station. Sirens still going in the distance but no sign of activity around the station. It was quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bailed out. "Okay you two get out of the car and go behind that park bench across the road. If any cruisers come by they'll have to assume we're in the police station. And they're looking for someone matching your description not me. I'll go in and see if Mitch is in there. If he's not THEN we have a problem."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They bailed out and hid behind the park bench.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started up the path toward the front door.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809454967687144?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809454967687144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809454967687144&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809454967687144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809454967687144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/in-mouth-of-contract-agreement.html' title='In the Mouth of the Contract Agreement'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809443208324306</id><published>2005-06-06T14:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T14:47:12.086-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vanilla Honour</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Vanilla please" begged Paolo.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"You want to come in?" Guido asked.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"No...No I'm kind of stuck."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Anything else?" and Guido looked at me and Paolo.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Paolo shuffled a bit on top/beside the crate and said "No I'm fine."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"I'm fine" I said. And Guido went into the shop.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;We waited a while. And then we heard raised voices.  I looked in the shop and I could see Guido haul someone over the counter onto the floor and begin to punch and kick him. This went on for some time.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Guido nonchalantly walked out of the shop and got in the car. Four or five people ran out of the shop and screamed "Call the Police!" and one was obviously writing down our licence plate number.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Guido turned and said "That guy had no honour."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;He started the car.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"What happened?" I asked. Paolo chuckled.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"You see that sign?" Guido said pointed. "I went in for ice cream just like it says on the sign and that guy said 'It's winter we don't sell ice cream in winter.' I told him that the sign said ice cream and that I came in for ice cream and he was gonna sell me ice cream. He said 'We don't have any ice cream sir it's winter.'  I said then why is that sign up?  That sign is obviously up because you're gonna sell me ice cream.  He said 'I'm sorry sir.'  So I hit him."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Hit him?" I looked back in the store.  "You kicked the shit out of him!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"He had no sense of honour."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;We could hear sirens in the distance.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Guido looked worried. "Well I guess we'd better make a run for it.  Hang on." And we squealed out of the lot.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809443208324306?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809443208324306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809443208324306&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809443208324306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809443208324306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/vanilla-honour.html' title='Vanilla Honour'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809430246501246</id><published>2005-06-06T14:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T14:45:02.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Big Crate, Puffer Fish &amp; Ice Cream</title><content type='html'>We found Mitch's van.  It was parked on the ice in the middle of the lake being shot at with hockey pucks by a bunch of kids on skates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They made me go look but Mitch wasn't in it.  Guido and Paolo wouldn't budge off the shore even though the ice was at least three feet thick.  The kids taunted them.  Guido threatened to shoot every one of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They sent me back out to get a large crate from inside the van. It was heavy but dragging it along the ice was easy. When I got it to the Pinto we loaded it in the hatchback and Paolo climbed in with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can't close the hatch!" he looked rediculous.  I closed the hatch and half of his body was pressed up against the glass.  He looked happy.  He grabbed a few nature magazines from off the floor and began to read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido sat in the driver's seat and looked pensive. "Where to now?" He looked at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Um...The police station?" I barely got the words out before he was yelling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you insane? We can't go to the police station!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But..but it makes sense. He left my place and...well I'm pretty sure he was drunk and.. now the van's out on the ice and...he can't be in the hospital because the van's fine." I looked at the van "Except for a few hundred hockey puck dents.  They must have taken him to the police station."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paolo leaned over the seat and growled in my ear "Did you know that if a puffer fish stings you  you can be paralyzed for four days before you die? Wide awake the entire time too. Very cool." Then he leaned back again "But don't worry they eat coral."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido thought then said "Okay. The police station.  But YOU'RE going in got it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uh Okay" I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started to drive. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paolo handed an open magazine forward "Hey Guido did you know puffer fish puff up and get big spikes? That's where the name comes from. They don't have ribs neither. People eat puffer fish."  He sat back and looked out the window at the various stores flying by. "I'm hungry.  Coral must be pretty crunchy. Hey ice cream!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we stopped for ice cream.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809430246501246?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809430246501246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809430246501246&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809430246501246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809430246501246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/big-crate-puffer-fish-ice-cream.html' title='The Big Crate, Puffer Fish &amp; Ice Cream'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809418455636147</id><published>2005-06-06T14:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T14:43:04.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Puttana</title><content type='html'>Guido and Paolo refused to move until a documentary on medieval torture was over. I was able to get their attention by joining in when they started singing along to a 'Mentos' commercial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys and I now have an understanding; They very good at singing along to TV commercials and I eat socks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I finally got the socks out of my throat I tenatively reminded them that they were supposed to be abducting me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They stood up sternly, grabbed me by the arms and forcibly took me out to the Pinto, stuffing my shoes and somewhat moist socks in my arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido got in and started the car with lots of smoke and a loud bang.  Paolo stood beside me and stared at the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido idled the car for while, then leaned over to the passenger side, rolled down the window and yelled over the noise of the engine, "What are you waiting for Puttana?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There are only two seats!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's a hatchback you moron!" Guido yelled back and rolled up the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paolo opened the passenger side threw me in closed the door and proceded to climb into the hatchback.  It slammed shut with a curse and fast-food wrappers packaging and stale fries flew everywhere.  Paolo sat with his knees up around his ears quietly munching stale fries and said "Lets go."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido looked in the rear-view mirror mumbled and put it into reverse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked in the rear view mirror and asked "Puttana? I though your name was Paolo?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He lunged forward and growled in my ear "It IS Paolo!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido grinned "It's Puttana you can call him Puttana" and he patted me on the shoulder "Call him Puttana."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paolo sat back and fumed "It's Paolo." And he looked out the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were on our way to find Mitch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809418455636147?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809418455636147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809418455636147&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809418455636147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809418455636147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/puttana.html' title='Puttana'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809323787231346</id><published>2005-06-06T14:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T14:27:17.873-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Flesh eating Fish</title><content type='html'>Two guys in long black coats and shades pulled into my driveway in a noisy, white, rusted-out Pinto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They immediately, roughly, pulled me outside by the arms, "You're coming with us."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Jeesus! Let me get some shoes on!" I yelled as my feet suddenly hit snow-covered sidewalk at 20 degrees below zero.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They shoved me back into the house but didn't let go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now I have wet socks!" I complained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paolo looked at Guido.  Guido looked at Paolo.  Guido gave Paolo the eye.  "Alright." Paolo said and he lumbered past me up the stairs.  He knew where I kept the socks. He came back with two pair of black socks similar to the ones we had been looking for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Not those ones." I admonished him. "Thick socks. It's winter."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paolo looked at Guido.  Guido shrugged. Paolo lumbered back up the stairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We waited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And waited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido started to get anxious. "Hey Paolo!" he yelled up the stairs "Paolo?" We waited another minute then Guido started up the stairs without letting go of my arm and into my bedroom.&lt;br /&gt;Paolo was sitting on the edge of my bed dangling one pair of thick socks and one pair of thin socks in his hands watching TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He pointed to the television and said "Look Guido! Pirranhas!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido let me go and went to sit beside Paolo.  Discovery Channel was on showing a documentary on flesh eating fish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uh guys? Can I have my so..." I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Shhh!!" they shushed simultaneously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they showed a pig-like animal wading into the water and turned into floating bones in under 20 seconds Guido and Paolo grinned at each other and chuckled "Coooooool"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They showed a bigger fish being attacked and half of it's body gone.  They nudged each other and pointed to the television "Eh?" They nodded and grinned "Eh?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uh guys? What about m..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido snapped his head around "Sit down shut up or I'll shoot you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809323787231346?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809323787231346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809323787231346&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809323787231346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809323787231346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/flesh-eating-fish.html' title='Flesh eating Fish'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809309534736916</id><published>2005-06-06T14:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T14:24:55.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mitch is Missing</title><content type='html'>Mitch didn't show up today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for calling GMP Services."" his answering machine went. ""Guido"" in Guido's voice" "Mitch" in Mitch's voice "and Paoooohloooh" Paolo sang with a bad pygmy accent "Are not in right now.  We're the Fix-it Boys the specialists in Situation Repair Odd Jobs and Communications! This month we have a special 3% off deal - we can get your message accross to those who need it - guaranteed!  Leave a message after the beep and we'll have a nice sit-down." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hung up. I didn't leave a message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But 5 minutes later the phone rang "You" came Guido's voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What?" I bleeped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What did you do to him? Where is he?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You..You mean Mitch?" I squeaked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido sounded right cranky. "Yeah he never came back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Idunno"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Stay right where you are." And the line went dead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809309534736916?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809309534736916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809309534736916&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809309534736916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809309534736916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/mitch-is-missing.html' title='Mitch is Missing'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809303030896188</id><published>2005-06-06T14:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T14:23:50.310-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quark</title><content type='html'>I spent most of the night peering through the hole and feeding sunflower seeds to the creature. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a better look too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He/She/It would come to the edge of the hole with tiny little fuzzy feet like cat's paws hanging over the edge and make a little burbling sound, kinda like, Qwoort"" or ""Qwiiirp"""&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a glimpse of a HUGE blue eye deep and watery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll name him 'Quark'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809303030896188?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809303030896188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809303030896188&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809303030896188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809303030896188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/quark.html' title='Quark'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809295284072143</id><published>2005-06-06T14:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T14:22:32.843-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunflower Seeds</title><content type='html'>Parts were hanging, the panels were off, but the drum of the dryer was still intact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And through the hole it was daylight on the other side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I peeked through.  It was the same as before; a bright blue sky with wisps of cloud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Convinced I could learn more by sticking my hand throught the hole, I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing new.  I could feel some moss, plants and a bit of dirt if I reached around behind the hole, but nothing else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was about to head back to bed frustrated when I heard a quiet swoosh.  And I remembered the feathers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uh oh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got my head as close to the hole as I could. I could only see with one eye, but just beyond my range of vision I swore I could see the leading edge of a wing. I sat back and took a moment to think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I stuck my hand in there again, what were the chances I'd get my hand lopped off by an eagle or whatever it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I paused, then took another look. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The feathers I could see were pure white.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat back again. Time to find the universal tool, a stick!  I'd poke it with a stick! Yeah!&lt;br /&gt;I looked around and found no sticks.  But I found a perfectly servicable coathanger. I traightened it out and armed with my 21st century stick, stuck my head back in the dryer. The wing was still there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking through the hole and putting your hand through it at the same time was impossible, but with the coathanger I could. The coathanger wobbling and me, shaking more than I thought I should be, I gently touched the feathers with the coathanger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a sudden flurry of feathers and the most enormous head I'd ever seen appeared with a large hooked beak open and ready and... began nibbling at the coathanger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What the f...?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't see the eyes just a mass of white feathers. It looked like just the head could be the size of a large medicine ball.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pulled the coathanger gently out of its beak and pulled my head out of the dryer.&lt;br /&gt;I was going to try something. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunflower seeds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a whole bag of them for watching TV with instead of yucky chips.  I retrieved them from upstairs got a handful arranged my arm in the dryer and tossed them up and over my shoulder so that they would land on whatever ground there was on the other side. Then looked through the hole again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They didn't land anywhere.  I could see the sunflower seeds floating off spiralling away from the hole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I got what I wanted a nice resounding "crunchcrunchcrunchcrunchcrunch" and a beak appeared at the mouth of the hole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got another handful of seeds and slowly stuck my hand through palm up.  The seeds didn't want to stay in my hand. They tended to drift away but enough stayed that soon there was a beak slowly taking one seed at a time from my hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"crunchcrunchcrunchcrunchcrunch"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809295284072143?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809295284072143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809295284072143&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809295284072143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809295284072143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/sunflower-seeds.html' title='Sunflower Seeds'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809282233605951</id><published>2005-06-06T14:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T14:20:22.336-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Restitution</title><content type='html'>I put Mitch's advances down to his being a bit tipsy after 5 or six bottles of 40 proof alcohol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mitch told me that you two met when you bit him in the knee." She said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Grrph"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She thought it was funny. She still thought I had brought Mitch in to do her nails. There was absolutely no sign of that eye of hers for the rest of the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I learned something new about relationships; If you want your girlfriend to love you invite a cold-blooded killer into your house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I cooked a wonderful dinner with thyme garlic and lemon potatoes. (freshly peeled not boxed) Crispy breaded pork chops (where I dip the chops in egg white first so it gets crunchy) and fresh corn (I soak it in butter and sugar and salt whie cooking it) and then we watched movies till midnight.  I chose a couple Hugh Grant movies.  She snuggled up and I rubbed her head and told her it was all for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then when she had fallen asleep I headed downstairs to the dryer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809282233605951?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809282233605951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809282233605951&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809282233605951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809282233605951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/restitution.html' title='Restitution'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809268306872293</id><published>2005-06-06T14:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T14:18:03.070-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And Visits</title><content type='html'>Sorry it took so long to post again, but time flies when you have a portal to another world in your dryer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me explain...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got home and as soon as I opened the door, my girlfriend rushed toward me&lt;br /&gt;with her hands outstreched, fingers pointed up and a look of wild-eyed glee on her face.&lt;br /&gt;Look!""" she squealed "FRENCH NAILS!" and she body slammed me with a huge hug.  I got a hug!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's the best late Valentine's gift you ever got me!" she grinned at her fingernails.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"......"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said that with my eyebrows raised and my eyes wide. &lt;br /&gt;Body language I suppose. And my eyebrows went down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What the f....?" Then I remembered I have a tendency to forget absolutely every special occasion.  Valentines' Day becomes the most important day of the year on February 15th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I hadn't done this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She grinned at her fingernails again "Mitch used to be a hairdresser!"  and turned them over and over to look at them at different angles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"....."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And he did my nails!  FRENCH NAILS!" and she whirled around and ran up the stairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I followed. "What's that got to do with Mitch being a hairdresser or nails... or whatever?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When he was a hairdresser they did manicures too!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"....?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He became a hairdresser to pick up girls"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ah..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And he liked it! He's REALLY REALLY good!" and she thrust her nails in my face "See?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yup she had fingernails alright. "So you two sat around all day and did your nails?"&lt;br /&gt;"No we talked a bit" she said.  Then I looked in the kitchen.  Every single one of my hard liquor bottles was on the table open and empty. "And we had a few drinks."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A few?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He used to be a bartender too"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I see." I said.  I looked at all the bottles with remorse wondering how the hell she was still standing and how much it would cost to replace all those bottles. Then I remembered the hole. "So did he um...fix the dryer?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No. He needs parts." She said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned and bolted downstairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dryer was in pieces.  The panels were off and and put aside.  Various timing gadgetry was hanging by tangled wires. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He'll be back tomorrow. Oh and guess what?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What?" I whined. I don't think I could possible have sounded more pathetic. Nothing could be worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my girlfriend usually a considerate and loving woman said "Mitch asked me to marry him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"...."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809268306872293?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809268306872293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809268306872293&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809268306872293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809268306872293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/and-visits_06.html' title='And Visits'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111809261751194839</id><published>2005-06-06T14:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T14:16:57.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And Visits...</title><content type='html'>So Mitch is STILL there. &lt;br /&gt;I just called and he hasn't even gone downstairs to look at the dryer yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been four hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the hell are they doing?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111809261751194839?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111809261751194839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111809261751194839&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809261751194839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111809261751194839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/and-visits.html' title='And Visits...'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111808857995941612</id><published>2005-06-06T13:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T13:09:39.960-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mitch Visits</title><content type='html'>Getting Mitch's phone number was a chore in itself . I had to get it from Allen.Allen not only works strange hours in a completely different time zone, but doesn't give out his number to just anyone, being in the Situation Repair" business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mental lapse at mentioning Mitch turned out not to be too bad.Mitch was the best choice as he had already seen the hole in my dryer and I didn't want anyone else to know.Better than the Maytag repairman. That guy goes on TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I called him this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You want what?" he bellowed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I explained why he should come over and make it look like he was "repairing" the dryer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're out of your mind!" And he accused me of spiking his tea because he was certain it was a hallucination. Guido and Paolo certainly hadn't mentioned anything since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he went into great detail about how he had to go help Guido and Paolo learn to shoot their fully automatic paintball guns because they start shooting before aiming and spray pellets all over the place and that their prey alerted by the first dozen or so shots could dive out of the way. And that paintball is certainly not like the streets of New York.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did I need to know this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I begged "Only for a minute or two okay?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hrmm" he said. (I guess he got my lack of eloquence disease)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Just stop by and look at it and leave okay?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Okay but only for a minute" he replied. "It's gonna cost you"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hrmm" I said "But.  But you can look that hole again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well. I still don't believe you.  You probably put something in my drink and now you're using it to get me to come over where you can get revenge.  You'll probably have a couple goons waiting...or bite me in the knee again...Whatever. I can handle it.  This had better not be a trick.  I'm just doing this for my peace of mind."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Cool"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He showed up a little later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My girlfriend usually a kind and understanding woman immediately offered him coffee and a chat.  She has an uncanny ability to draw absolutely anyone into a lengthy conversation. She dragged him upstairs to sit at the kitchen table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh shit! I gotta go to work!" I said after about a half hour of standing around learning more than I needed to know about what Mitch and my girlfriend had in common.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So you're gonna go downstairs fix it and leave right?" I said to Mitch. And I tried to give him the eye.  You know.  The eye. But I don't think it worked. "You know leave?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Stop being rude!" my girlfriend gave me an instant refresher course on 'the eye'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah in just a minute" Mitch said not paying much attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Right.  Okay.  In just a minute.  Okay then... uh.. see ya." and I tried again to catch Mitch's attention with an eye a snort a cough.  Nothing worked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I left.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111808857995941612?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111808857995941612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111808857995941612&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111808857995941612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111808857995941612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/mitch-visits.html' title='Mitch Visits'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111808728034830147</id><published>2005-06-06T12:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T12:48:00.353-07:00</updated><title type='text'>OMG!</title><content type='html'>I just got home and my girlfriend, usually a lovely and understanding lady, was pulling clothes from the dryer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran to shut the dryer door. "What are you DOING?" I said,  little too loud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I needed something to wear to my meeting tonight."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"um... uhh... Why?" (Yeah, that's me; Mr. McSharpWits)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can't go naked can I?" she bent over and pulled the rest of the clothes out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wouldn't mind."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she proceeded to pull stuff out of the washer and throw it into the dryer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uh... The dryer's broken!" I said, and I wondered why the light wasn't visible.  Then it occurred to me that it wasn't daylight on the other side. Whew!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No it's not, it's fine.  I just did two loads and it worked fine!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And you didn't lose anything?" I was surprised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Smartass."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My girlfriend, usually a kind and logical woman, doesn't make sense to me sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But it's broken!" I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know.  I'm retarded.  That's a terrible excuse, but I started down that road and I'm going to finish it. I'm a stubborn man dammit. And I'll win this battle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Then fix it. Fix it good.  Make it work better than it already does", she hefted the laundry basket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know how", I said.  And I was serious.  How would I fix a hole that shouldn't exist in the first place?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Then find someone who will.  You know someone who can, right?" and she gave me the eye.  You know.  The eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uh yeah, I... guess."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The eye got even more eyeish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I said the first person that came to mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "Mitch... I guess."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well make sure this 'Mitch' is here tomorrow morning to fix the dryer that's not broken.  Got it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uh oh...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111808728034830147?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111808728034830147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111808728034830147&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111808728034830147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111808728034830147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/omg.html' title='OMG!'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111808653901409217</id><published>2005-06-06T12:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T12:35:39.016-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spooked</title><content type='html'>I snuck downstairs and opened the dryer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soft light poured out as if there was a tiny skylight inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kneeled and stuck my head in the dryer and looked up. There it was; a little window open to a bright blue sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cautiously put my fingertips through the hole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then my hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then my whole arm up to the shoulder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I could feel was a slight breeze.  No sign of a sock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then something brushed by my fingers and I pulled back fast, almost dislodging my armpit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took me a while to get up the nerve to try it again. But I did.  It hadn't felt like aything big.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The more I thought about it, the less scary it seemed. I reached in again. Then reached around to where I SHOULD have been touching my own shoulder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt dirt?  Plants?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I retrieved a few tiny bits of moss and leaves from a small plant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then something brushed by my hand again, definitely not a plant.  It was moving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I slammed the dryer shut and went back to bed.  Then this morning I had to go to work so I didn't get to look again or write about it until now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It had fealt like... feathers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111808653901409217?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111808653901409217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111808653901409217&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111808653901409217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111808653901409217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/spooked.html' title='Spooked'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111808528124347411</id><published>2005-06-06T12:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T12:14:41.243-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Understanding</title><content type='html'>It's midnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you what happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was downstairs, inspecting the dryer.  Throught the hole I could see the faint light getting brighter and brighter until it was a bright blue with faint wisps of white.  It looked just like daylight, as if all I could see throught the hole was sky on the other side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I knew where my sock went.  Now I knew where untold other missing laundry items went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was wondering why I had never seen this light before and realized that I would never have seen it because, not only is the dryer door rarely open, but how often do I do laundry late at night?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking I should have seen it, I DO often do laundry late at night, when suddenly my girlfriend, usualy a lovely and understanding lady, startles me with, "What are you doing with your head in the dryer?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was I supposed to say? That there was a portal to friggin Narnia in my dryer and any minute I expected a couple of snot-nosed kids to pop out and prattle on about a stupid lion?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. I said what you'd expect me to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ugh... narfin", I said, and closed the dryer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She gave me the eye.  You know. That eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually a lovely and understanding lady, she would get it wouldn't she?  I wondered how I was going to keep her from doing any more laundry until I figured this out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wondered what I was going to tell her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not today. Not yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I'm going to sneak back down and look into it. And put my arm in there...I will.  I will.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111808528124347411?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111808528124347411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111808528124347411&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111808528124347411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111808528124347411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/understanding.html' title='Understanding'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111808458455036605</id><published>2005-06-06T11:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T12:03:04.553-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Not a Normal Hole</title><content type='html'>We turned the dryer cylinder over a few times to bring the hole to the bottom, but it didn't move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though the cylinder turned easily, the hole stayed at the top.  How wierd is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guido and Paolo got drunk and started throwing pennies in  There wasn't even a noise.  Then they lost interest and started going through my encyclopedias loooking for naked pygmies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started to get dark outside and the began to re-enact their victims please with bad pygmy accents. Mitch got so mad he finally rounded them up and got them out the door and into the van.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank God he was drinking tea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went down to look again. It's kind of difficult to get a good look with both eyes when your head is in a dryer but, when it's dark, you can see a little light through it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like dawn... way off in the distance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it smells a little like lavender.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't stuck anything in there myself yet but I will soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111808458455036605?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111808458455036605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111808458455036605&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111808458455036605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111808458455036605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/its-not-normal-hole.html' title='It&apos;s Not a Normal Hole'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111808056093844271</id><published>2005-06-06T10:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T10:56:42.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hole</title><content type='html'>Wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Under the watchful eye of Mitch, GMP Services matched all my socks with unbelievable care and attention to detail. but they didn't find my sock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We found one that almost matched, but Mitch held it up under some full-spectrum lighting and showed me that it was a slightly different shade of black than the one I'm looking for. And we can't have that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Mitch double-checked all around the house, then did something neither I nor Guido or Paolo thought of; he stuck his head in the dryer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You have a hole in your dryer!" his voice was kind of echoing from inside the dryer, but also strangely flat, "There's your problem!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He pulled his head out and invited me to look. I stuck my head in and there it was, right at the top. Deep and black.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "Whaoh uhh. Whuu uh?" and Mitch motioned me away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He went in arm-first, felt around in the hole and got a confused look. His hand should have hit the top of the dryer but it didn't. He stuck his arm all the way in, up to the shoulder and looked at me. "There's no bottom", he said. he meant no top, sides, back or anything. "There's no bottom", and you could tell he was waving his whole arm in there the way the rest of his body moved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first I thought he was joking, scrunching up his whole arm in there. But that's impossible. his arm should have popped out of the top of the dryer, but it didn't. He got a wierd look and said, "Where does it go?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't stuck my hand in there yet. I hope he's joking. I really do. I'm going back down there to see if they need any more tea and beer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111808056093844271?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111808056093844271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111808056093844271&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111808056093844271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111808056093844271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/hole.html' title='The Hole'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111807917239725959</id><published>2005-06-06T10:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T10:32:52.396-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mitch is Anal</title><content type='html'>Mitch and I had a heart-to-heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first he refused to come in and just argued with me at the window of the van.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it was bloody cold out there.  So, I got in the passenger side to stay warm while he argued with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have an understanding now.  He was doing his job and I was just biting him in the knee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It also turns out, he really likes tea and likes his socks to match too.  In fact, I think he's more anal than me about it because, when he heard that Guido and Paolo were sorting socks, he hopped out and stormed into the house.  Now he's taking apart every pair of socks that aren't perfectly identical and making them do it again, barking at them like a drill instructor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're still looking for the one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111807917239725959?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111807917239725959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111807917239725959&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111807917239725959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111807917239725959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/mitch-is-anal.html' title='Mitch is Anal'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111807869190307334</id><published>2005-06-06T10:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T11:08:22.760-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Search Continues.</title><content type='html'>Guido and Paolo came to the door a while ago. Mitch stayed in the van.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took me a full ten minutes to build up the nerve to twist the door handle and peek out..and up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently they were really after some guy amed "Benjo" and returned to apologize after roughing him up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is there anything we can do to make it up to you?" they asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "Leave please."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They said, "No really, is there anything you need done?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "No really leave please please now please" (I really said that, just like that, I'm such a retard.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They said, "is there anything you want moved, killed, taken apart, stolen or found?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No please please, " then I thought about that damned sock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, for the last couple of hours I've had two really large individuals looking all over the house, gathering socks and making a pile in the living room where they sit cross-legged, sorting them out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breaking faces and kneecaps and moving furniture they are good at. Sorting socks they are not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm about to go out and offer Mitch some tea. He's still pouting in the van and refusing to come in. Guido says he's upset that I bit him in the knee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in a bit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111807869190307334?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111807869190307334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111807869190307334&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111807869190307334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111807869190307334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/search-continues.html' title='The Search Continues.'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111807826808670473</id><published>2005-06-06T10:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T10:17:48.086-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sock Still Missing.</title><content type='html'>So three guys in a black van pullled up.  Wearing dark glasses.&lt;br /&gt;I was going to remark, "What kind of idiot wears dark glasses at night in winter in Canada?", but all I could manage was, "Ow, murffle sleeb...hitting me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The blood in my ears muffled their words a bit, but I'm pretty sure they said something about being from GMP services.  I understand now that it stands for Guido, Mitch and Paolo.  They're big friendly guys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...If you promise never to troll on the Graphic Design Forum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let that be a lesson I suppose.  Allen has the power to open the gates of hell and unleash the full wrath of a hefty 2x4 on your asterisks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Mitch limps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cuz I bit him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111807826808670473?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111807826808670473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111807826808670473&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111807826808670473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111807826808670473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/sock-still-missing.html' title='Sock Still Missing.'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111807799928962320</id><published>2005-06-06T10:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T16:25:57.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I still haven't found my sock.</title><content type='html'>Allen attacked me today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sent a Denial of Service Attack at my computer machine and then locked me out of the GDF.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think he has my sock or is at least, jealous of my impeccable hosery, taunting me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111807799928962320?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111807799928962320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111807799928962320&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111807799928962320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111807799928962320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/i-still-havent-found-my-sock.html' title='I still haven&apos;t found my sock.'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13464111.post-111807778119889794</id><published>2005-06-06T10:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T10:09:41.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>But I..I..</title><content type='html'>Hold on. I lost a sock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can not blog sans said sock.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13464111-111807778119889794?l=keyare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/feeds/111807778119889794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13464111&amp;postID=111807778119889794&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111807778119889794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13464111/posts/default/111807778119889794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://keyare.blogspot.com/2005/06/but-ii.html' title='But I..I..'/><author><name>Keyare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13089653177473955245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://ih2.com/images/me-in-hat2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
