Wapsi Square Forum

Just Old Al wrote:

Sgt. Howard wrote: In Okanogan county, SOME puns are considered grounds for justifiable homicide... THAT one comes remarkably close...

Or, he was punned at by a farmer..."Judge, he just needed tillin'..."

Deposits tomes by Jethro Tull and Luther Burbank in the pun jar...

Tull, I have. Burbank, it's in California. You're on your own with that one.

Dave wrote:

Sgt. Howard wrote:I DESPISE pealing potatoes...

Entirely understandable. Potatoes are tubers and they have no business at all being up in a bell tower.

The idea does have a certain appeal . . .

. . .

deposits an Irish Lumper Peal in the pun jar.

--FreeFlier

jwhouk wrote:I have a side story plot that I'm kinda working on, but it needs some background.

It involves Glyph Language.

Best try a different forum. All you'll get here is glib language.

Dave wrote:

Julie wrote:No one messes with my green bean casserole and apple pie!

Good for ya! I thought everybody knows that miniature marshmallows go in the orange-jello salad, and not in the green bean hot-dish.

At least there has been (blessedly) no mention of lutefisk being on the menu.

How about in the sweet potato(e) dish made with pecans, brown sugar, more sugar, and maybe some sweet potatoes? That's marshmallows, not lutefisk.

And cornbread dressing with sausage and boiled egg?

Food, glorious food!

Thank you for tolerating (to a degree I am certain) my foolery!

Meanwhile, back at the ranch....

...Obviously Safyr and Eme haven't met me yet.

---

As soon as we set foot through the portal, the scent and smell of all the food hit us like an assault on the senses.

"Oh, my!" was all I could say. Sarah was just overwhelmed by everything. Lily just smiled, as she knew what her friend - and in-law - had planned. Suzie found herself looking around at the decorations and such adorning the walls.

Daisy came out from the kitchen and greeted every one of us with a hug. I winced a bit after, but was none the worse for wear. Buck shook my hand and offered to introduce me to the others who I hadn't met as of yet.

Everyone was there - the usual suspects of the Wapsi Square crowd, along with Tina and Stan, and Glytch. John was in the kitchen helping to heat up some last-minute items.

In the one corner, near the large bay window of the dining room, were two female figures - from what I'd heard, they must be the two elves... drow, I think?... who definitely looked a bit like a fish out of water.

I smiled and nodded as Buck introduced us to Emerauld and Safyr. I did a half-bow to them both, and the two nodded back in acknowledgement. I heard Safyr say something in a tongue I didn't quite understand:

"Ol lore saph foluss dkinoss uriu tha nind Yah jindurn ulu jindurn." "It looks like someone else has met their God face to face."

Eme's eyes just widened a bit.

I introduced Monica and Jet to Sarah - Sarah recognized Jet from People magazine. I told the story - quickly - about how I found Dietzel wandering around the lake... and I swore I could hear a small "yelp" coming from Monica's purse.

After a bit of small talk, the dinner bell rang. Edward escorted us all to our seats. Buck stood up by the entrance to the kitchen.

"Everyone! I just wanted to say to everyone how glad we are that you all could make it today, and how thankful I am that we're all here - and in one piece." There was a small murmur amongst the gathering at that comment.

"It has been a long and interesting year since our last Thanksgiving dinner; last year it was just me, Momma, Rowdy and Cinny around this table. If you'd have told me we would have a full house at this year's dinner... well, I'd have thought that Rowdy would have had something to do with that." He got a playful nudge from his younger brother at that.

"Regardless - I am thankful for every one of you that has come into our lives. Even if they are under less than ideal circumstances, we've come together as one - as a family." He stopped for a moment, nearly tearing up as he exchanged a gaze with his newlywed bride. Kath smiled back at him, and urged him to continue.

"Here's to the coming year, and to those who will extend - and expand," At this he looked at Jin, who was starting to show with her pregnancy, "Our family."

Everyone raised their glasses in salute.

Emerald raised her glass.
"Chun an teaghlach, le cairde nua, sláinte agus sonas i do thurais."

Safyr continued, raising hers.
"That is, 'To family, and new friends, health and happiness in all your journeys.' We find Gaelic has some very how you say, powerful words?"

Emerauld finished with, "Plus, it is more likely to be understood than ours. We thank you for the invite to your wonderful feast, and are blessed to be counted among friends. Sláinte!"

Just Old Al wrote:Lutefisk is not food. Lutefisk is paint remover. I made that mistake exactly once...now I know better.

My mother's second mother-in-law was Norwegian. I tried lutefisk once. I was amazed that something that smelled so bad could be so utterly lacking in any flavor whatsoever.

Hansontoons wrote:

Warrl wrote:

Sgt. Howard wrote:I DESPISE pealing potatoes...

Yes, the potatoes should stay quite and keep an eye on things...

(depositing a potato peeler and a bell-clapper in the pun vault)

What, stay quite still?

Well, it is an internet tradition that anything poking fun at someone else's grammar, spelling, or typing must contain at least one grammar/spelling/typing error...
(razzenfratzen internet fairies!)

Deep in the Library, the goat and the dwarf sat at the table engrossed in the chessboard before them- the dwarf picked up his rook and moved to a position of guarding his King. The goat moved a pawn just one square short of threatening the rook. The dwarf then moved a knight in position to threaten the goat's queen- he gave a warbling whistle as he pointed at the threat.
"En guarde, you say? I am not impressed- here, see what you make of this," he stated as he took the knight with a bishop.
The dwarf smiled- then he slid his queen right up to the bishop, taking the same and fully boxing in the king. He slid his finger across his throat.
"THIS IS NOT CHECKMATE!!! WAIT A MINUTE!!! I CAN... no, I can't... and I can't... BUT THIS IS NOT CHECKMATE!!!"
The dwarf slid off his chair with a smug smile and wandered back to his janitorial cart while the goat continued to seek a move that would save him... to no avail, it is to be said.
"Really, Nicodemus- his people INVENTED the game," said Bia as she approached the table.
"THAT DOESN'T MEAN I CAN"T BEAT HIM!!! There HAS to be a way... faugh!! It IS checkmate! I swear, he cheats!"
"I have watched the game since the onset- there was never an illegal move- he is a MUCH better chess player than you. He waltzed you right into this predicament and you never saw it coming. Erza has been winning chess since he was only forty years of age,"
"What? So young? He was a child prodigy?"
"Yes, Rabbi- I hope you didn't put some stupid wager on this game, did you?"
"Oy! I will never live this down..." he said as Erza returned with his janitorial cart in tow, only now it had some interesting refinements- a seat, two hanes with harness...

... and a goat collar...

Sgt. Howard wrote:

Dave wrote:

Sgt. Howard wrote:I DESPISE pealing potatoes...

Entirely understandable. Potatoes are tubers and they have no business at all being up in a bell tower.

In Okanogan county, SOME puns are considered grounds for justifiable homicide... THAT one comes remarkably close...

I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Greg!

I was quite serious. Potatoes make lousy bells. They're too mushy to resonate properly when struck by a clapper. They don't go "BONG" or "clang" or "boing" or "ding". Not even an honest "clack" or "tick" like some wooden percussion instruments.

They're too soft. They just go "spud".

(Places a recording of "The Monster Mash" into the Pun Jar)

Dave wrote:

Sgt. Howard wrote:In Okanogan county, SOME puns are considered grounds for justifiable homicide... THAT one comes remarkably close...

I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Greg!

I was quite serious. Potatoes make lousy bells. They're too mushy to resonate properly when struck by a clapper. They don't go "BONG" or "clang" or "boing" or "ding". Not even an honest "clack" or "tick" like some wooden percussion instruments.

They're too soft. They just go "spud".

(Places a recording of "The Monster Mash" into the Pun Jar)

ARRRRGGHHH!!! RIGHT! 32 gauge special, rifled bore, 25mgs ketamine dosages per round, 75 rounds back-up... oh hell... ANNIE! WE'RE GONNA HAFTA TAKE A TRIP INTO KALIFORNICACIA TO DEAL WITH A PUNSTER... did you want me to bring you anything from the Bay Area?

Sgt. Howard wrote:I DESPISE pealing potatoes...

Dave wrote:Entirely understandable. Potatoes are tubers and they have no business at all being up in a bell tower.

Sgt. Howard wrote:In Okanogan county, SOME puns are considered grounds for justifiable homicide... THAT one comes remarkably close...

Dave wrote:I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Greg!

I was quite serious. Potatoes make lousy bells. They're too mushy to resonate properly when struck by a clapper. They don't go "BONG" or "clang" or "boing" or "ding". Not even an honest "clack" or "tick" like some wooden percussion instruments.

They're too soft. They just go "spud".

(Places a recording of "The Monster Mash" into the Pun Jar)

Good gravy . . .

/places an antique porcelain Ogopogo saucière in the pun jar/

--FreeFlier

Sgt. Howard wrote:

Dave wrote:

Sgt. Howard wrote:In Okanogan county, SOME puns are considered grounds for justifiable homicide... THAT one comes remarkably close...

I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Greg!

I was quite serious. Potatoes make lousy bells. They're too mushy to resonate properly when struck by a clapper. They don't go "BONG" or "clang" or "boing" or "ding". Not even an honest "clack" or "tick" like some wooden percussion instruments.

They're too soft. They just go "spud".

(Places a recording of "The Monster Mash" into the Pun Jar)

ARRRRGGHHH!!! RIGHT! 32 gauge special, rifled bore, 25mgs ketamine dosages per round, 75 rounds back-up... oh hell... ANNIE! WE'RE GONNA HAFTA TAKE A TRIP INTO KALIFORNICACIA TO DEAL WITH A PUNSTER... did you want me to bring you anything from the Bay Area?

DAVE! Dave? You here, man?

Round up the 'taters and get 'em in a circle, have them keep their eyes out for Sarge! He's-a headed your way, loaded for some Calinorphia bear!

---

After dinner – and a few slices of the sumptuous pumpkin pie – I wandered into the den of the Alexander home. The Lions and Eagles were tied at halftime; the Packers were going to be playing the late game against Chicago. I got some good natured ribbing from Alan and Kevin about the Pack's less-than-stellar play as of late – especially since the Vikings were sitting atop the Central Division standings at that point.

Sarah was talking with Katherine and playing a bit with Castela. I looked around and saw that Jin and May were conversing over by the entrance to the sitting room.

"Just the two I was looking for," I said in greeting. May gave me a quizzical look.

"Mother, this is Joseph Houk," she motioned with the glass in her hand. "He's the one who found Monica's dog." May had a bit of an unsteady gaze, but extended her hand in greeting.

"Charmed, though I'm not quite sure why you'd be looking for us." She took a long sip of her chardonnay.

"Well, I have my reasons," I began. "Hope that's grape juice for you, Jin?" She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, I've given up alcohol for the time being – why does everyone treat me like an invalid? I'm not the first woman ever to get pregnant, you know."

"You are the first golem to do so, however," I pointed out. May's eyebrow shot up at that. "That happens to be part of the reason why I wanted to talk to you."

Jin took a slow sip on her grape juice. "Do tell."

"You know that Sarah and I have been separated from the rest of you here at the compound," I stated. "The bounty hunting thing, I was only marginally worried about – mostly because they didn't have my real name."

"Brandi still thought it was a good idea to have you shadowed, anyways," Jin replied.

"That's where my concern comes in," I stated. "I understand that Lanthian 'teleporting' is limited to places where you physically have been."

"Mostly," May interjected. "It's a bit more complex, obviously."

"Obviously. But, if your Bolethius fellow were to somehow gain access to my place of work – and you know, from what happened to me the week after your wedding, that it could very well happen – I'd be a sitting duck at work." I motioned toward Suzie and Lily, who were talking with Greg and Annie over by the entrance to the kitchen. "No matter how many MIB agents were sent to babysit me."

"So?" Jin's eyes were starting to glow a bit. "What exactly do you want from us? I don't think they have any more open rooms here at the Alexander mansion…"

"I want the upper hand in dealing with this guy," I said. "And I think the two of you have something that could work – at least, short term."

"And that would be?"

"Glyph," I said plainly. "I've read up on it. Talked to Bud about it at one point. I know it's more than just an ancient language of a long-dead civilization. It's a programming language."

May nearly dropped her drink.

"How did you come to that conclusion?" She replied, recovering slightly.

"Simple. Everything I've heard, read, and seen of Lanthian technology has dealt with the Glyph language. The saying goes that your technology was powered by the very genes in your bodies. It's pretty safe to assume that your language would be part of that."

Jin and May exchanged glances.

"Of course, I also know that Lanthian technology wasn't famous for having fail-safes when it came to that technology." I shrugged a bit. "But, you had to have some way of controlling things. Or, at least getting it to slow down or stop, once you started it up."

"You're not the first one to ask about how we plan to stop Bolethius," Jin said. "Neil and Al have been badgering us for answers since we first heard of…"

"Ov, Gaht, Ya, My," May suddenly whispered under her breath. Jin stopped and looked at her mother.

"What?"

"Ov, Gaht, Ya, My." May suddenly looked around. "Something to write on and with," she said.

"Is there something going on?" Monica had wandered away from sitting with Georgette, who was watching Frozen with Castela and Atsali in the front room. "I heard…"

"Paper?" May had taken the pen I had offered her. Monica looked around for a moment, then saw a stack of Post-It notes sitting next to a phone on an end table. She picked the stack up, tore off the top page, and handed it to May.

May quickly scrawled four glyphs on the pad:


Direct Link if you can't see the above

Monica immediately recognized the Glyphs. "But that doesn't make sense, the order should be…"

Jin suddenly reached over and covered her mouth. "DON'T SAY IT."

Monica suddenly had a panicked look on her face.

"What the hell?"

"Saying it in reverse will activate the command," Jin said quietly, releasing Monica. "Why I didn't realize that to begin with…"

"This is very dangerous," May said, folding the note over and handing it to me. "It's limited in range by voice inflection, and there's a fifty-fifty chance you might have to actually touch him, but…"

"Wait, wait, what?" I looked at the note in my hand.

"That charm is essentially a 'debugging' command," Jin explained. "When activated, it should make him – and any other golems in hearing – cease operations and perform a self-diagnostic subroutine."

"How long will it run?"

"Long enough that you should be able to contact someone to poit him away – or you should be able to run to safety," May stated. She took a long swig of her drink, downing the rest of the chardonnay.

"I don't like that word, 'should'," I said.

"Neither do I," Monica echoed. "And I'm pretty sure that if you use that one glyph, he's going to need to be 'hands on' to activate."

"Well, it's the best we can do for the moment," May said, her buzz slowly returning. "Now if you'll excuse me, I believe there's a mincemeat pie in the kitchen, calling my name." With that, she abruptly left.

Jin looked at her mother, then at Monica and me. "I'd suggest not sharing that with anyone for the time being," she told us.

"Let's hope I don't have to use it," was my response.

Safyr, listening in like any good warrior assigned intel does, heard many interesting things.

Presently, she was at the table getting her fourth slice of mincemeat pie(the best human food she'd ever tried), and seeing Mayahuel slinking towards it, handed her a plate, fork, and put a generous slice on it.

"You're lucky I know how many they made. Here. Oh, and here..." she said, handing her a small flagon, and a delicately patterned silver goblet, adorned with various red stones, both cut and polished.

"I believe this makes us even."

"Perhaps," she said, her mouth curling into an amused grin.

Dishing out her own slice, Safyr stepped back into the shadows, ever watchful.

After lunch was over the crowd dispersed, some to watch football (I despise American football), some to a rerun of the Macy’s parade, and some to watch movies.

Personally, I planned on a tryptophan-induced semi-coma with my beloved if I could cut her from the herd. Large meals of any stripe tend to put me to sleep, but this wonderful feast even more so.

However, I had business to transact first. I had to find myself a shopping partner.

When we “bugged out” as Greg puts it the last thought in my mind was for my formal wear. I assumed, wrongly in hindsight, that my formal wear would be where I left it. It was, but between the fire and the explosion that destroyed my building there was little left of it.

As such, I needed a new tuxedo – and there was only one place I was going to find one – and that was Bond St.

Unlike most of my countrymen I had a bespoke tailor – the firm I’d done business with when I lived at home was still in business after a quick check with Glytch’s computer. They no doubt still had my records, but I thought a drop-in for a measuring and to see what might be had off the peg was in order. I’d love to have them duplicate my lost formal clothing, but that takes time – time we didn’t have – so off the peg it would be.

Unsurprisingly, I found Monica in among the denizens of the front room watching movies, sitting on the sofa next to Jet. “Frozen” was just finishing when I wandered over and asked “Can I talk with you for a moment?”

She looked at me quizzically, the “why” unspoken, then nodded and levered herself off the couch after a quick squeeze of the arm around Jet.

We wandered into the hall, where the noise level permitted coherent conversation.

“What’s up?”

“I need a shopping partner with your unique skills.”

With that, her face lit up. Shopping was definitely a task that room could be made for on the agenda. Good.

“Sure. Love to. What are we buying and where are we going?”

I detailed my needs – formal wear for the wedding, tailored to fit the underarm holster I wore. As the firm I dealt with at home was one that regularly sold to security folk, the requirements would be a triviality for them.

“Tomorrow morning, early, then?”

“How early is early?”

“4:AM would get us into London at 10:AM their time – right about the time that the shop opens. This way, they have some time to do whatever alterations they can do to a tux they have in stock, and sort me a hat, cufflinks, an overcoat, shoes and so on.

I am basically going to be asking them for a security tux – they often rent these for military personnel who are on occasional formal details – they have no need to own such and the MOD pays the bill for them when needed. Hopefully they will have something close to my size that can be altered quickly.

I can and will promise you one thing – some time at the British Museum and a lovely cream tea while we wait for the tailoring to be done.”

Her face, souring at the horrid time I’d asked her to go, brightened considerably when the British Museum and the cream tea were mentioned. “I have no idea what a cream tea is, but it sounds wonderful. What’s in it?”

With the fervor of a true convert I espoused the virtues of the English cream tea. A big pot of tea or coffee with cream and sugar, supplemented by homemade scones was the basis of the cream tea. These were accompanied by pots of clotted cream and strawberry jam, which were liberally slathered on the still warm scones.

These in my eye are the best accompaniment of a trip to the museum – and was at one time a regular habit of mine. Hopefully, my little café was still there…

A few minutes later Monica tracked me back down in my seat by the window. I had nodded off while consuming a cup of coffee and a piece of pie – Daisy refused to be pried away from the football game which meant a proper nap was right out – so was alone by the window.

“Jet and I were talking about our little trip tomorrow and she had a better suggestion. She has a tailor she deals with in the city who she says could easily do the fitting you want and do it in your timeframe. You can order up whatever you want, then have it sent there, I can pop you in, you get measured, then they deliver.”

“That sounds like a good idea – I just need something and the people I dealt with in London were a sure bet. If we can do it here, and I can get in and out using the disguise amulet I have if need be, that works.”

I thought to myself that this made sense – but I would have enjoyed a trip home if only for a few hours. Hopefully, after this, I could find a way to make that happen – and take my lady love with me. There were advantages to having friends in high paranormal places…

"Mr. Boswell, Sir, our latest efforts to find this Wahnee character have all come up blank- his shop is closed down and appears to be emptied of all stock and tools. Every effort to find where he went comes back empty," the young recruit nervously informed his boss.
The man now called 'Nicolas Boswell' considered this for a moment- there had been promise of info from the lizard man creature, but he refused to divulge his info or his source, then was never heard from again. Every attempt to infiltrate this mystery resulted in another dead end... yet all indications were that the wedding was still on.
Fine- his forces would crash the wedding, capture Mayahuel and Jin... a pregnant daughter makes for excellent leverage... and have the transformation completed before he started falling apart. He had already studied the circumstances and come up with a simple game plan, one that would grant him his desires and demonstrate his powers to these backwards people. It was no stretch of imagination to see where he could rule this world, given half a chance.
"It... doesn't really matter, right now. Put word out-everybody lay low. There will be a plan instigated, but not just yet. The protection money still flows, right?"
"Yes Sir- after those two ... 'examples'... money has been very forthcoming," the youth replied, relieved that the boss didn't do his 'voodoo' in anger at his report.
"Very good- see what's involved in acquiring a Brink's truck, would you? Be discrete about it,"

Couture tailoring? I'm soooo jealous Al!

DinkyInky wrote:Couture tailoring? I'm soooo jealous Al!

Just think of Al as Sean Connery, in his prime, but handsomer..and then forget that completely because he looks nothing like it.

One must do what one must do. A suit requires proper tailoring to cover the bulge of a wheelgun like the .455 Webley - that thing is LARGE. And as Al's formalwear got nuked in his shop...well, ya gotta do what ya gotta do.

BTW, folks, DInky is twitting me...she and I have been discussing how best to do this.