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Being Alone, America, and Click: Jason Fuller, Contributor Working to bring about the best in America, both on-line and off. Impeachment Is No Longer Enough; Donald Trump Must Face Justice Impeachment and removal from office are only the first steps; for treason and-if convicted in a court of law-executed. 06/11/2017 10:39 pm ET for America to be redeemed, Donald Trump must be prosecuted Donald Trump has been President of the United States for just shy of six months now. I think that most of us among the electorate knew that his presidency would be a relative disaster, but I am not sure how many among us expected the catastrophe our nation now faces. friendly-neighborhood-patriarch: hominishostilis: abstractandedgyname: siryouarebeingmocked: mississpithy: bogleech: notyourmoderate: angrybell: thinksquad: http://archive.is/5VvI5 Huffpo, everybody. Can someone tell me what high crime or misdemeanor Trump has committed that merits this? Or is the HuffPo just publishing outright fantasies? God dammit, I’m now in the position of defending Huffington. I didn’t want to be here. Okay, @angrybell … actually, @ literally everyone who reblogged this uncritically as a tacit endorsement and agreement. Such as @the-critical-feminist that I reblog this from.My first question has to be: are you serious? Don’t read that with a tone, don’t read that as an attack. That’s my first question: Are you asking a serious question about what high crimes or misdemeanors Trump has perpetrated? Are you asking a sincere question or is this the sort of rhetoric that doesn’t translate well into text? And, if you are actually asking this question, are ou going to hear the answer or are you going to immediately start concocting your counter-argument because you just know in your heart that anyone who disagrees with you must be wrong, so you start formulating a plan to prove them wrong before you actually hear what they have to say?Next: did you read the article that was posted in the link you responded to? Because the author of that article does a reasonable job of explaining their thought process behind the headline. Or did you lash out before you read the article? Okay, presuming that you did read the article in good faith, evaluate its points, perform the follow-up research to understand context, and still disagree with the central tenets and simply believe that the author’s reasoning does not hold up for whatever reasons you have chosen not to state, and you believe their source information is falsified for whatever reason you have chosen not to state, I will move on. After I have given you and yours every conceivable benefit of the doubt and every charitable assumption. Because if the article itself doesn’t convince you, there’s the fact that Donald Trump has broken literally every federal law against corruption and conflict of interest. Not one or two, not most, not all but a few. Literally every single law we have against corruption, from the Constitution to the informal guidelines circulated as a memo from the White House ethics scholars. He’s broken literally every one of those rules. He’s openly traded favors for money and favors for months now. Hell, that Chinese influence-peddler that paid him off for sixteen million dollars should have been enough to get him convicted of treason. Sharing code-word level classified information with a government on the opposite side of an ongoing military conflict isn’t *necessarily* treason, unless the information was part of a share program with an allied nation and wasn’t his to distribute. That’s aiding a foreign aggressor at the expense of a military ally, and that’s treason. Giving aid and comfort to enemies of the nation. Obstruction of justice is pretty clear-cut, that’s an impeachment, except that the justice in question is also a matter of national security, so that’s treason. Again. Defaming the former president? Misdemeanor, impeachable. The way he drags his heels nominating posts in Justice and State could be prosecuted as dereliction of duty. If he has tapes of Comey, he’s on the hook for contempt, if he doesn’t then he’s on the hook for witness tampering. Hell, deleting the covfefe tweet is destroying federal records, which is a misdemeanor, and impeachable. The man doesn’t go a week without bringing on an impeachable offense. Strictly speaking, every time he goes to Mar-A-Lago he’s committing grand larceny by fraud, because he’s taking millions of dollars of American funds for his own benefit, after promising not to do that. There are dozens, hundreds maybe, of impeachable offenses already in this 140 days, “high crimes and misdemeanors”. Actual counts of treason, punishable by death by hanging, is probably only five or six counts. Only five or six counts of high treason by our sitting president. His job does not put him above reproach. His job is to *be* above reproach. And he’s failing that job. Trump’s supporters probably believe he’s done nothing impeachable or treasonous because they spent eight years claiming on no grounds whatsoever that Obama was impeachable and treasonous, just because they didn’t like him. They now probably convince themselves that these facts about Trump are as fake as their Obama theories and they’ve ruined the gravity of these terms for themselves. “ His job does not put him above reproach. His job is to *be* above reproach. And he’s failing that job. “ I like how Bogleech doesn’t know many Trump supporters are former Obama supporters. https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/04/us/obama-trump-swing-voters.html https://www.vox.com/policy-and-politics/2018/10/16/17980820/trump-obama-2016-race-racism-class-economy-2018-midterm https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Obama-Trump_voters It’s not even a secret. But why am I not surprised bogleech - that intellectual titan - failed to do basic research? And last time I checked, no nation required their politicans to be perfect. Which is what NYM is asking for with that quote; perfection. That’s what ‘above reproach’ means. An impossible standard, considering people “reproach” Trump for feeding fish wrong, for his skin color, for any and every little thing, even if they have to twist reality into a pretzel to do it. In fact, I’ve seen people take pictures of kids in cages from 2014, and blame Trump for it. So this: Are you asking a serious question about what high crimes or misdemeanors Trump has perpetrated? Is a question of this: Can someone tell me what high crime or misdemeanor Trump has committed that merits this? Seems you missed the part that says “merits this”. Next: did you read the article that was posted in the link you responded to? Because the author of that article does a reasonable job of explaining their thought process behind the headline. Or did you lash out before you read the article? (The underlined is in the subtitle, not the headline.) Okay, presuming that you did read the article in good faith, evaluate its points, perform the follow-up research to understand context, and still disagree with the central tenets… Context? Central tenets? Do you not know how highlighting works? You don’t need to know the context, or any other point, when you’re indicating a specific, explicit, and isolated quality. The subtitle called for Trump’s execution, we’re 5 paragraphs in and you haven’t even acknowledged that part yet. Or at all, I’m guessing, because I’m not reading further. You keep talking around it. You accuse others, preemptively, of not hearing the answer and pre-”concocting” a response, and yet you’re waffling on about shit around the one, sole, isolated thing that was indicated in the first place. This isn’t about ignoring context, this is about criticising one thing. Which is a thing people are allowed to do, by the way, just because people criticise one thing, doesn’t mean they’re criticising everything about the everyone involved, and everything said before, adjacent to, and after that one thing, and therefore are required to include all of those things in their consideration and assessment of this one thing. The specific criticism of the indicated quality is the advocation of Trump’s execution. That’s it. No context is needed to understand that this is what was said, especially since that which was said, which is being criticised, is explicit. No amount of, “So, click-bait subtitle that you don’t see until you’ve already clicked on the article link out of the way, here’s what I actually meant when I said I wanted this person tried and executed,” could excuse the use of that language, let alone actually believing in it. It’s like… it’s like if someone makes a typo, someone else is like, “Oh, seems you made a typo,” you’d jump in like, “But what about they’re perfectly reasonable spelling everywhere else? Hm? Forced to ignore contextual perfect spelling I see. They’re lack of typos everywhere else explains this typo, and vindicates it”. You and what’s his face, James, fuckin ReasonAndEmpathy or whatever now, y’all keep saying “but what of the context?” when the criterion of criticism is isolated, atomic, specific, and/or explicit. No amount of context invalidates the very specific, singular words explicitly spoken. “Sure he called for Trump to be executed, but he explains himself.” Fucking and? When did the death sentence become ok? When did that happen? Moderates are ok with the death sentence now? Aight, weird. Man this fucking post aged like fine wine, take a SIP Delicious This was quite a ride
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Girls, Journey, and Run: Anonymous 01/23/19(Wed)04:49:15 No.12460541 insisted on knowing why my three- chapter submission to a literary agent was rejected >his assistant finally responded telling me the book was "overly fetishistic and lacked any kind of nuance or relationship with reality" 7 KB PNG asked her if I could edit what l'd sent them and submit it again with minor changes no response How do you even appeal to literary agents in this day and age? l he entire industry seems so rgged against anvbody with any originality or capacity for sincere expression :Anonymous 01/23/19(Wed)06:04:43 No.12460726 >>12460704 # A novel from the perspective of a boy who is crushed in his father's concrete plant and turns into a paving stone. It is his journey from there into the city where he observes a great many things as he observes the changes in the area where he is laid along a stretch of pavement, e.g romances, break ups, quarrels, gentrification etc. He learns to deal with people dropping chewing gum and cigarette butts onto him, and struggles emotionally when the street becomes run-down and more heavy-footed unkind people trample over him day and night. The story ends on a positive note, as he is transported to a seafront and reset on the pavement adjoining a beach, where barefoot girls and so on walk on him instead, making him happier and turning him into a man, so to speak. >>12460735 # >>12460736 # >>12460748 # >>12460752 # >>12460760 # >>12460789 # >>12460960 # >>12461047 # >>12461111 # >>12461154 # >>12461186 # >>12461234 # >>12461271 # >>12461440 # >>12461492 # >>12461521 # >>12461537 # >>12461627
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Advice, Django, and Facebook: <?php header("Content-type: text/html; charset utf-8") * This is a warning to any poor soul who may have to deal with this code. I took over this criminal piece of chaos from a monkey named Joel who I assume had been given a typewriter by Mephistopheles himself. For reasons *I have yet been unable to fathom, he decided to patch together this thing *using a BaseX setup hardwired into an unfixably broken Manjaro VM, queried * by a handwritten plate of uncommented PHP spaghetti fit to feed an army of people with a serious death wish, without any framework or CMS * The very long Basex script, very long PHP presenter and very long XSLT stylesheet mostly perform the same heuristic document structuring for * different components and are supposed to produce compatible results, but I *bet they have mismatches somewhere. * Since Prof. T just wanted a few small functional enhancements, I decided *to just patch it and keep the general setup. Unless you were hired to correct some spelling mistakes, DO NOT FOLLOW IN MY STEPS. Putting up with * this simulation of how a goldfish would design a system has literally * given me CLINICAL DEPRESSION. This is not an exaggeration, I am writing * this after a prolonged medical therapy - mostly successful, thanks for * asking, but not fun. I wouldn't wish this code on anybody who isn't a * manager at Oracle or Facebook, and therefore give you this sincere advice: * Nuke this. Take the XSLT if you must, and then nuke the app and recreate it *in Django or whatever works for you. I would do it myself, but I risked a *relapse simply by opening this file again to write this comment. Dear brother or sister, I wish you all the luck and strength in the world * and hope it will be enough. Farewelt. error_reporting (E ALL) ini set("display errors" , true); print('<xml version-"1.Q" encoding-"UTF-8" ?"n"):?> Im getting second thoughts about whether accepting this job was a good idea.

Im getting second thoughts about whether accepting this job was a good idea.

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Apparently, Ass, and Bad: bibliotecaria-d: ebonykain: karacat: othersideofforty: erinnightwalker: ripped-up-jeans-and-glitter: erinnightwalker: acaffeinejunkie: erinnightwalker: erinnightwalker: geostatonary: sixpenceee: “A house I pass on the way to work has this sculpture in its yard. Its about 8 feet tall.” (Source) “HELLO NEIGHBOR STEVE, I WOULD LIKE TO INVITE YOU TO BARBEQUE ON THE EVE OF THE BLOOD MOON.  I FEEL WE GOT OFF TO A BAD START.” “NEIGHBOR STEVE, DO YOU NOT WISH TO PARTAKE OF THE UNCLEAN FLESH-MEATS OF PIGS AND THE POLLUTED ESSENCES OF TOMATO?  PERHAPS YOU ARE A CAROLINA STYLE MAN, NEIGHBOR STEVE?” “PUT THE GUN AWAY NEIGHBOR STEVE, YOU KNOW I SHALL ONLY RISE AGAIN WITH THE DAWNING OF THE MOON.  WE HAVE BEEN THROUGH THIS MANY TIMES.” “LOOK AT THIS PICTURE MY SON DREW OF YOU AND CHILD TIMMY, YOUR SON.  ARE THEY NOT THE PICTURE OF PACT-MATES?  THIS COULD BE YOU AND ME, NEIGHBOR STEVE.” “YOU MISSED THE UNHOLY NEXUS OF POWER THAT IS THE KEY TO MY CORPOREAL FORM, NEIGHBOR STEVE.  YOU WILL NEED TO RELOAD NOW, SO I WILL GO INSIDE TO MY HELL-WIFE AND PUT YOU DOWN AS A SOLID ‘MAYBE’.“ I have the feeling that the families get along great except for Steve. Like, the wives are baking (questionable) brownies together, the kids are playing together, Antler Guy occasionally takes Son and Timmy to school (no car, just carries them in huge swinging strides through a nexus of ungoldly sights in a swirling netherworld shortcut. Sometimes they stop for McDonalds). Hell-wife gave them a potted Audrey Jr., Steve’s wife (who I now christen Sharon) gave them a begonia. One time Steve tries throwing holy water but all Antler Guy does is thank him, saying that no, Antler Guy isn’t Catholic but it’s the thought that counts, he is so kind to water his creeping deathshade vines regardless. For Christmas Antler Guy gives Steve a case of ammunition. To be funny/sarcastically mean Steve gets Antler Guy the world’s most hideous Christmas sweater, singing light-up reindeer included. He immediately regrets it because not only does Antler Guy love it and wears it for several months, it will never need batteries because Antler Guy powers it with his own eldritch aura. When they come back from a holiday to Hawaii, Steve is horrified to find out Sharon bought them matching Hawaiian shirts. He is even more horrified that his wife means it that if he doesn’t wear it he will forever sleep on the couch. I want to expand on this, since I see it’s still passing around and the ideas have grown in my brainmeats. What drives Steve up the wall and down the other side is how… normal… everyone treats the Abominations. (Yes, that is their last name. No, it is not a joke. Son was asked his last name for the standardized testing at school, had a quick conference with Timmy, and decided that Son Abomination sounded good, “Since my dad calls your dad the Abomination anyway and we can paint it on your mailbox just like the Henderson’s did theirs!”. Antler Guy agreed and did a lovely rendition of it for the mailbox, with only a few glyphs of soul-rending terror added to keep up to snuff.) The Great Plant Exchange went beautifully, though the Audrey Jr. (named Aubergine for the lovely shade of purple poison that drips from her fangs) is on a diet at the moment. She was in cahoots with the cat and the dog to get into the good people food and ate two frozen turkeys all herself. Now she’s restricted to the hallway table to answer the phone and the door. (Steve actually likes her, and keeps slipping her hotdogs when Sharon isn’t looking. Their door-to-door salesman rates have dropped dramatically since she changed abodes.) Hell-wife has almost gotten the begonia to bloom and say it’s first words. The homeowner’s association just loves the Abominations. All paperwork stamped and dotted, in on time and in triplicate. Antler Guy likes filing, says it reminds him of his old job. There is a resident who spent 20 years as a lawyer and they have long, animated conversations about all sorts of things that make Steve swear to never need legal counsel. Hell-wife joined the PTA and spearheaded a committee to fundraise in the fall with a haunted house. It was a county-wide hit, though the claims that a particularly rowdy group had been deliberately lost in a timeslip to the Outer Doors Of Chaos was firmly rebuffed. Most young people nowadays, it was agreed, just couldn’t appreciate flute music. Antler Guy really does try to connect with Steve. The surprise birthday party was perhaps a bit much, given that most participants do not have the ability to suddenly materialize in front of the guest of honor to give them a hug. Sharon assured them that Steve normally screams on his birthday, and the remains of the cake were heartily enjoyed by all. (A plate was saved for Steve once he came down from the treehouse.) After the Hawaii trip (which was a present for his birthday) and the Matching Shirt Ultimatum (which was Sharon’s attempt at patching things up with Antler Guy, he really was sad about the birthday screaming), Steve finally grabs his courage in both hands (plus the shotgun, which let’s face it is about as useful as a teddybear at the moment but it does comfort him) and confronts Antler Guy, about why such a group of……Abominations could possibly come to his quiet slice of suburban bliss. “……BUT NEIGHBOR STEVE, WE HAVE ALWAYS BEEN HERE.” “No no no, I read it in a book! Don’t you have to be invited or something?!” “WELL YES, TO THE HUMAN WORLD. BUT THIS IS NOT THE HUMAN WORLD AS YOUR THREE-DIMENSIONAL BRAIN PERCEIVES IT.” “What the hell does that mean?!!” “DID YOU NOT KNOW, NEIGHBOR STEVE? LEGALLY SPEAKING, ALL OF THE VASTNESS OF HUMAN SUBURBIA IS, IN FACT, A PART OF HELL.” “……..” “THE FLAMINGOES ARE THE BOUNDARY MARKERS. IT WAS DECIDED THAT THE FLAMING SKULLS WERE TOO KITSCHY FOR MODERN TIMES.” Reblogging cause I kind of want more of this…. Since you asked nicely ^_^ Antler Guy, as one may have noticed, is a calm sort of fellow. In the face of human atrocities he displays a curious Zen sort of state of mind. Timmy asks Son if he’d ever seen his dad angry, and Son hasn’t. (When asked, Timmy says that yeah his dad gets mad, but it’s like the Fitz-Simmon’s chihuahua down the street- mostly high-pitched noise and occasionally TV remote chewing. Sharon replaces the poor thing every 3 months or so.) When pressed (gently, at the monthly book club, and with many cups of tea and at least one daiquiri), Hellwife admits that this comes from serving many years at his old job. After the revelation of the nature of his neighborhood, Steve has not been overtly mean to Antler Guy. Not yet in the realm of friends, but vastly better than before. No more holy water, no more shotgun blasts. (Still the occasional jumpscare, but Antler Guy really can’t help that part.) They even occasionally share news over the fence as Antler Guy trains the creeping deathshade vines in proper oral hygiene, and Steve waters his lawn (and occasionally slips a goldfish cracker to a deathshade vine that looks particularly adorable. Aubergine has trained him well.) Which is how Antler Guy learns about the peeping tom that’s been plaguing the adjacent streets. Apparently the pervert has been getting bolder, and rattling doors. He almost broke into one apartment, whose occupants were a single mother and her daughter, Mildred. Millie, a shy girl who is a great horror fan and firm friends with Timmy and Son, had missed school because of it. Steve knew because Sharon had told him, on her way to deliver a tuna casserole and a double batch of brownies to the pair. (Sharon has been dubbed the unoffical mob boss of the Mother’s Mafia. She is quite pleased with this title.) He tells her to wait, confers briefly with Aubergine, and sends her along with, “Only as a loan, you know, but Auby wants to stretch her roots and she’d probably like getting all ribboned and curled anyway. Little girls still do that, right?” She has strict orders to bite anyone that makes Millie or her mother cry. (Steve is dubbed the official neighborhood marshmallow for this. The bookclub buys him a jar of marshmallow fluff in commemoration.) He turns to look at Antler Guy, and freezes, much as a chihuahua will when faced with a hungry hellhound. “You….you alright there buddy?” “Ň̵̴̫̫̙͙̻̞͈̫̥̪̱͈͈̯̍̀̀͆ͫ̒̿̄͗͘͡͝ͅO̊͑̑͒̎͑̃ͬͭͮ̅̔̆̃̉ͯ̇͗̀҉̵̻̜̞͉̟͙͚̻̪̼̖̀͟ͅ.̵͈̣͈̙̣̜̻̭̩̝̠̞͗ͤͥ̓͗ͬ̓̄͊̓̅̐ͩͮͧͤ̽̐ “ “Uh, yeah, I guess not. Did you, uh, know you’re kinda fuzzing at the edges, there?” “Ň̵̴̫̫̙͙̻̞͈̫̥̪̱͈͈̯̍̀̀͆ͫ̒̿̄͗͘͡͝ͅO̊͑̑͒̎͑̃ͬͭͮ̅̔̆̃̉ͯ̇͗̀҉̵̻̜̞͉̟͙͚̻̪̼̖̀͟ͅ.̵͈̣͈̙̣̜̻̭̩̝̠̞͗ͤͥ̓͗ͬ̓̄͊̓̅̐ͩͮͧͤ̽̐ “ “Right. Um. Well.” Steven makes a very ungraceful exit when space starts bending around Antler Guy’s still, unmoving form. When Steve sees a shadowy form in his back yard when he gets up to pee that night, there’s no hesitation. He grabs the shotgun from the cabinet and peeks out the back door window. Just in time to see a nebulous form of soul-wrenching terror engulf the man reaching for the door handle. A sliver of moonlight reveals a very familiar eyesocket. After a moment (and a sincere prayer of thanks that he had already peed, cause otherwise he’d have done it then and there) Steve opens the door. The nebulous form freezes, reality bending around the edges. “Nice night for it, huh?” “…..Y̮̮͍͔͇͙͙̟̐͌͛̓̏͞͡Eͩͭͮ̓̍ͯ̀ͧ͏̵̴̛̺̠̱͕̕ͅS͈̹̮̟̳̪̩̘͍̤̲̻͈̱̳̽̋́ͩ̃͋̎ͩ̈͆̀͘͢͢͟ͅ.̧̢͈̭̝̥̦͚͍̇ͫ̃̓͆̿̇ͪ͊ͧ̃͛͌͜͢ “ “Guy won’t scare anymore litttle girls, will he?” “Ň̵̴̫̫̙͙̻̞͈̫̥̪̱͈͈̯̍̀̀͆ͫ̒̿̄͗͘͡͝ͅO̊͑̑͒̎͑̃ͬͭͮ̅̔̆̃̉ͯ̇͗̀҉̵̻̜̞͉̟͙͚̻̪̼̖̀͟ͅ.̵͈̣͈̙̣̜̻̭̩̝̠̞͗ͤͥ̓͗ͬ̓̄͊̓̅̐ͩͮͧͤ̽̐ “ “Good. G’night then. Oh, and if Hellwife has an extra Audrey Jr. that needs a home, let me know. Millie likes Aubergine a lot but Augy’s just too big for the apartment. Dunno if they come in miniatures though.” “ I̴̛̟̭͉̮̜̩̬̮̣̘̰͚̩͙̟̳͔̜̙͑̂̆̆͗͒̀ ͖̖̰͉̥͖͔̙̤̺͍̳͈̹͙̣̞̇̇ͤ͒̅̈́͆̽ͧ́̚̚̕͘W̶̶̱͈̞͖̼̟̣̮̌͂͒̈́͑͌͒͋̍ͮ͗̈ͣ̓ͤ͘͟I̴̶̞̥̩͇̔ͩͦ̇̉̾ͣͬ̀̀̒͒ͧ͛͌͛͆̚͘͢ͅͅL̠̟͕̠̟̪̰̻ͯ͂͊ͥ̍̏͋̐ͬ̉̆̈̀͠L̸̞̭͔̮ͦ͑̉ͮͩ́ͬͨͣ͘͜.̴͈͎̮͇͓͖̱̻̣͊͊ͤͩ͊̑͗͞ ̸̡̩̖̞̩̻̩̪̭͙̳͚͇̟̺͖̑͊ͫ̀͆ͨ̉̔̓̂̓̋T̷̷̟͉̟̻̻̪̞̰̯̻͈̣̰̬̻̾͐́ͭ̓̅́͡H͇̬̪̩̬̝̣͍͈͇ͯ͛̏͌ͮͧͭͦ͟͜A̴̴̤͕͈̤̮̞̱̯͔͕̙͔͖̰̬̰͈̠ͥ̏ͥ̍̽ͧ̀͝N͗̓͋̃̈̑̀̅ͣ̽̒̂̄ͯͩͤ͏̢͢͏͈̯͎̪͇̟̠͔̯͓͓̰̠̱̠̳͕̳͝K̢̓ͧ͛͛ͣ̄̓̓ͯ̍̈̈́̌͂̔͟҉̛̘̥̖̤̦̻̳͙͟ ̢̢̻̥̹̣̞͉̘͇͚͍̖̯̘͚͔̗̩͓͐ͮ͂͂̀̚͘͠Y̜̞͇̳̗̬͎̰̙̜̩̪͎̞̙̠̔͂̌̃́̀O͇̺̲͙͍̬̳̘͈̱̜̝͔̖̊ͥ̿ͫͤͫͫͩ͋̓̃ͦ̈̄͢͟Ū̢͖̲̦̠̤͎̙͉̦͖̖͓͍̺̺ͪͯ͐͆͆ͭͯ͗ͦ̄̅̌̈̃̾ͭ̋ͧ͢͢͠͡.̶̸̞͓̞̹̗̻̣͈͕̠̬̦ͫ̆ͤͬͨͦ͒͂ͨ̿ͩͪ͘͞.ͧ͛̒̂̂͗ͨ̌͆ͥͭ͒̉͘͜͏̙͖̰̝̙̲͓̙͕͍̥̳̩́͠.̶̷̮͎̱̼̬͖̰͎͚͙̥̓͋͋ͦ̓̓ͯ͆͛̏ͫ̅ͯ.̨̧̙̤̳̮̺̙͖̞͔̗͎͍̑̆ͮ͐ͩͦ̌̽̾̏͘͠.̹̖͕̮͕̞̰͍͚͖̌ͪ̃̐̐̌̌̅̉͑ͧͪͪͬ̓͐́͛̿͘͞ ….NEIGHBOR STEVE.” “Anytime.” There are no more peeping reports. Millie brings back Aubergine and spends an entire afternoon teaching Steve the particulars of Augy’s new “hairstyle” (a gravity-defying mass of teased tendrils, ribbons, and barrettes) in between games of tag and hide-and-seek with Timmy and Son. When Antler Guy and Hellwife present her and her mother Beatrice with a tiny Audrey Jr. (”pOOr ThinG Is a ruNT And wOn’T geT MorE Than A FooT taLL, BEa, aNd NeeDS a New FRiEnD”, assures Hellwife), both mother and child burst out crying. Millie names it Bella, after Bella Lugosi, and shows it to the excited group of boys (Steve and Augy included). IT GOT SO MUCH BETTER!!!! Life in a subdivision partly populated with eldritch and possibly magical (officially classified as “extra-dimensional”, for even when faced with the physics-defying nature of their new co-habitating citizens the government cannot bring itself to acknowledge them as “magic wielding hell-beasts”, as some high-ranking staff members initially suggested) goes on fairly normally. Sure, there are a few hiccoughs. The creeping deathshade vines get a stern talking to about appropriate afternoon snacks (”NOT the Fitz-Simmon’s chihuahua, I don’t care how much he has it coming or what he excreted where, now spit it out!”), Aubergine sheds all her leaves at once and snowballs the house (but does helps sweep up afterwards), and moonrise is a good time to watch the night-gaunts fly by (but on moondark it’s best to stay inside, no matter how prettily they glow. They’re somewhat similar to fireflies, and don’t always check to see if their partner glows as well. It wouldn’t be as much of a problem if they didn’t dive mid-coitus and drop just above the ground.) While the neighborhood in general is accepting of the Abominations, when things get to be a bit much they tend to come to Steve. Since meeting Beatrice and Millie (and the formation of the Terrifying Triad known as Millie, Son, and Timmy) Steve is the adult human male most comfortable dealing with Antler Guy on the whole street. (Sharon as U.M.B. is widely held to have, well, steel-whatever-the-hell-she-wants, and Timmy is known to run over to Antler Guy and ask for rides through “that wobbly grey place, you know, the one with the REALLY BIG alligators?”. Still, the courtesies must be observed.) So when a writhing sparking ball of snarling terror and teeth takes up residence in the Manzo’s tool-shed, and when Animal Control refuses to come (the street is banned due to a run-in with the deathshade vines), Steve is called. Having heard the description, Steve brings Antler Guy. When they get there, Mr. Manzo is forcibly holding the door shut. Unholy yowling is coming from inside. At a gesture from Antler Guy, Mr. Manzo leaps away, and the doors blast open. A 150 pound ball of whimpering, flaming something hits Steve and knocks him on his ass. The whimpering, flaming something proceeds to slobber all over Steve, his shirt, his pants, and a decent portion of grass in between distressed yelps. “GACK!” “NEIGHBOR STEVE, ARE YOU IN DISTRESS?” “GAAACKLEARGHSPLUH- DOWN boy, HEEL, that’s a good- Antler Guy, what is this?!” “I BELIEVE IT IS A HELLHOUND, NEIGHBOR STEVE.” “Good grief, I didn’t know they came this big and…..and….. Guy?” “YES NEIGHBOR STEVE?” “Is he supposed to be…..skinless?” “YES NEIGHBOR STEVE. THIS VARIETY WAS BRED TO BE LAP DOGS. THEIR FLAME IS MOSTLY WITHOUT HEAT, AND THEY HAVE NO SKIN FOR THOSE WHO ARE ALLERGIC.” “…….laPDOG?!” “YES NEIGHBOR STEVE.” Antler Guy lays a hand on the hellhound, who tries to burrow further into Steve with little success. “HE APPEARS TO HAVE BEEN RECENTLY WEANED. IT WILL TAKE TIME FOR HIM TO GROW TO HIS FULL SIZE.” “……” “THE SMALL BREEDS GROW MORE SLOWLY.” A vile hissing emanates from the shed. (Mr. Manzo has long since fled for the safety of his kitchen.) As Steve attempts to calm the frantic hell-puppy, Antler Guy investigates. He reaches one long hand in behind the riding lawnmower and….. winces. “NEIGHBOR STEVE?” “Yeah- I’m right here, uh, doggie, not going anywhere- Guy?” “I APPEAR TO HAVE AN…. ATTACHMENT.” Steve is awed at the tiny ball of white fluff attached to one long, thin finger. He didn’t know that Antler Guy’s fingers COULD be bitten, much less by a tiny kitten. Which is how Steve and Sharon got Clifford (”Aww c’mon Sharon, how could I pass that one up?”), and Antler Guy and Hellwife get Fluffy (”NEIGHBOR STEVE ASSURES ME IT IS A TRADITIONAL TITLE.”) This might be the most amazing thing that ever crossed my tumblr dash OMIGOSH I’m in love. I LOVE EVERY BIT OF THIS This is like the stoplight post. It is Tumblr legend, and I feel I must reblog it for those fortunate few who get to experience it for the first time.
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