A joke for Wednesday (even though it's practically Friday)

I am kind of behind myself this week. On Monday, I was reading through my notes for The Master, the Warden, the Headmaster and the Deputy and decided I was going to rewrite a bunch of what I've already posted. Then I waffled about it all day Tuesday, because I like to make myself look forward and keep going with a story after I've started posting, challenge myself to write myself out of the corner I got into or whatever. But... in the end I went with swapping out several chapters, drawing out a few plot points by several chapters, and shifting an entire plot arc a third of the way back in the story. We'll see how it goes.

I did the majority of the rewriting last night and this morning and finally posted it after lunch. (No help from Fergus the cat, pictured below, who deigned to keep me company through the morning writing. He also wandered across the keyboard at odd intervals, and spent a good five minutes trying to chase the cursor around the screen.)

So I was distracted by that (the rewriting and the kitten) and I missed my Wednesday joke. I'm sure nobody plans their week around it (or at least I hope you don't; I don't plan my week around it), but I'm trying to train myself into posting somewhat consistently and a dumb joke is an easy way to do that.

So. The joke: And the Lord said unto John, "Come forth and you will receive eternal life," but John came fifth and won a toaster.
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Writing prompt #3

"And what is it you collect?"

"A bit of this, a bit of that. Oddities, clever things, pretty things, ugly things. Nice things. Things I like to look at. Things I like to have so other people can't have them. Interesting things. Dull things. Dangerous things. Marvelous things." He grinned in a self-satisfied sort of way, as if he'd some something clever. "And everything in between."

"It's a wonder you have space for it all."

He didn't reply, merely leaning back in his chair and sipping his whiskey. His general casual aloofness was infuriating, but he intended it to be so she tried not to let him wind her up. "Tried" being the operative word.

She tried to wait him out. (Again, tried.) She sipped her own whiskey, glancing around the room. It was ornate in an underhanded sort of way. The woods were polished, the upholstery all soft velvets. The things around the room, even the lamps, were more on display than placed here or there for simple usefulness. It was an odd, elegant room to match the odd, elegant man. And there was something menacing about the room that watched the man, too.

"You asked me here to see something? Or were you intending to collect something of mine?"

His invitation had come in the mail, which was why she'd noticed it. In the digital age, it was rare to get mail that wasn't junk or a bill. A simple envelope, a heavy paper card, the text standard Times New Roman out of any inkjet printer. He'd introduced himself, stated that he was a collector as if it was an occupation, and he'd invited her to his shop.

"Of course. Follow me."

He was a short, slight man in a well-tailored suit. Her first thought on meeting him had been "beige." His suit was beige, his vest was beige, his skin was beige, his hair was beige. The unrelieved blandness was only broken by his crisp white shirt and the khaki-brown of his shoes. She would've put money on his socks being beige.

She followed the beige man out of what she'd decided was his formal parlor (an odd thing to have), down a narrow hall with several closed doors off it, and finally into a new room. The menacing feel of the previous room was present in the new one, though this room was less. Just less. It was mostly bare, with only an oval mirror in a simple wood frame hanging on one wall and a plush rug bearing the marks of long use. The room made her itchy the way nothing else had so far.

"Your collection is complete," she said, the discomfort of the place making her forget to mind her tongue. "You have the mirror and its frame."

"You have no idea how right you are," the beige man said, smirking at her. The expression alarmed her more than his sipping whiskey had; it seemed like she'd honestly amused him, where the bit with the whiskey had been posturing. It was just a quirk of his lips, but she got the distinct impression of being smiled at by a shark. A beige-colored shark wearing ugly shoes, but a shark nonetheless.

The beige man walked over to the mirror and twisted the frame. She could see the wood move, and her rational mind told her that the long ends of the frame should have shifted so that they didn't match up with the long ends of the mirror, but nothing happened. The wood just seemed to swirl around the mirror's edge. There was a clicking noise, not the pop of something shifting into place but the snick of a crack in glass. The mirror wasn't reflecting the empty room anymore, but it was the room that had changed not the mirror. The rug was there, but the door leading out (the one that should have been directly behind her) was gone and a staircase going down to murky blackness had taken its place.

"Shit," she grumbled, only half under her breath. The beige man grinned at her, a proper shark's grin now, not just the impression of one. He gestured down the stairs with his gun. It was not beige.

"After you."
up frames

A post for the sake of posting

I was trying to think of something of substance to post, but today's Most Exciting Moment was when I changed the light bulb in my ceiling fan. So. Here's a drawing I did awhile ago:

It follows my humdrum theme for this entry because I found somebody else's drawing online (and I wish I could remember where I found it so I could give credit where credit's due!) and did my own drawing of it when I couldn't think of anything original to doodle. It's an excellent way to get the creative juices flowing.

On that note, I'm off to keep patching together my latest project. (Many thanks to nocturnus33 for her props, and for the great fic recommendation!)

Writing prompt #2

The prompt: "If you could have any super power, what would it be?"

Invisible. If you asked me what one "super power" I'd want, I'd never have said invisibility. I'd have gone for flight or time travel. Maybe (maybe) the ability to breathe under water.

Invisibility always seemed to involve a lot of extra caveats-- but will your clothes be invisible, too? but can you stop being invisible?-- and conundrums. Morality stuff, too-- just because you can sneak a peak, should you?

Yet I figured it out. Complete invisibility. I can't even see myself (and that's more disorienting than I'd guessed it would be).

And then, of course, I walked by him. The first time, I was giddy at his non-reaction. Success! I thought. Huzzah! Then I passed him again with somebody else nearby, and he realized nobody else could see me. So this third time, he just had to burst my bubble, as it were.

"I can see you there."

"But I made myself invisible." What a dumb thing to say.

"The only way to be truly invisible is to cease to exist, and to do that would most likely negate your reason for attempting invisibility in the first place, making the entire effort rather redundant overall."

"Wow. You certainly know how to suck the fun right out of a neat trick."

"Hmm, yes."

"Must take practice."

"Oh, yes. Loads. I'm a professional fun-sucker."