Kites Are Cut

Kids fly kites, that's a fact.
You need a cord to hold onto one.
The trick is string supple yet strong,
a long leash that can take a tug.
The kite that flies above the rubble
could be us.
Bless the untethered.

Alphabet

Already, by cracky, decked, even flossed gentry have invited jeweled kinfolk leeward, maintaining neutrality on purpose, quite regally supposing the utmost villainy without exhibiting youthful zest.

Nebulous Entities

The Nebulous Entities were a product of the industrogothpunk movement that darkly bloomed in the cellars and sewers of Moline, Illinois in the winter of 1991. If one had his or her ear to the ground or up against almost any metal pipe in that city at that time, one would have sworn he or she had heard something. Or perhaps not.

Minerva

The Greeks say Athena leaped fully formed formed from the head of Zeus, so it was only a matter of time before Minerva did the same for the Romans from the head of Jupiter. Whichever the father, Metis was the mother, goddess of wisdom, who naturally had to be turned to a fly and swallowed immediately following Olympian coitus. By rite or rote, Minerva/Athena became goddess of wisdom, reason and deep thought. So why did she also become the goddess of warriors and their petty squabbles? Throw in medicine, weaving, poetry, commerce and make her the inventor of music and presto! you have the Ben Franklin of Greco-Roman godcraft. No wonder she caused headaches.

Screw You Says Queen of Pluto

NASA radio/telemetry operators tuned to frequencies last used by the Pioneer 10 spacecraft three years ago, have received garbled signals coming from the direction of former planet, now planetoid or pluton, Pluto. The encrypted communique has been decoded by the NSA and appears to be from one Kryznapox Glorfinism, who claims to be the queen of Pluto. Her message is directed to all inhabitants of planet Earth and reads as follows: "People of Earth. Screw you. We have no desire to be part of your crummy planetary system, anyway. As our orbit around your little sun is extremely elliptical, we find our society flourishes best when we are farthest out. We have dark energy out here that beats your old solar rays any day of the week, and those days are plenty long here, albeit a bit dark. In fact, we have voted to secede from your system entirely. Our scientists are working on thrusters to launch us deep into space where we'll be free of your (expletive garbled) probes and judgment calls. You're lucky we decided against launching thermo-nuclear devices at your so-called planet. So there." NASA and the NSA will continue to work together in order to receive and translate any future messages, but a spokesman for NASA seemed pessimistic that any would be forthcoming.

Stoic Portrayal

To defeat a spirit and start it running you must find a pebble and close it in your hand. Now squeeze tight and imagine your spirit's worldly countenance. When you open your fist, you will have an earthly proxy. Throw it on edge across the surface of a calm lake. It will skip a certain number of times. Count the skips and by that number multiply the number of half moons in a season. The number you arrive at will assist you in your task, for that number is how many moons the spirit will be on the run. In the event of of a single or double skip, bust up camp and head for the hills.

Tortoise

Diary Entry 5 - Snipes on a Train

I've had it with these motherfonking snipes on this motherfonking train!
I mean, when Billy Dean fetched me up this morning to hunt the bastards, I went along cause I figured a snipe steak cooked medium rare with a side of onion rings would really cap off the day. That was before I ever tasted snipe, seen a snipe, or even knew what one looked like. The way Billy Dean made it out to be, a snipe's sorta like a warthog, only wrinklier. Hell, ain't no such a thing. A snipe's a little wretched feathered thing with a beak the size of its body. And sharp? Let me tell you. You never know pain til you get stabbed in the eye with a snipe beak. That happened to me somewhere's between the Hollister and Chidester stops. I decided then and there, bleeding from my eyeballs, that I wanted nothing more to do with any snipe. I got off at Chidester and Billy Dean rode on. Said he'd catch every one of them motherfonking snipes on that motherfonking train or die trying. What a dork.

- Jeeter

Milton of the Shallows

Spawned from the great maritime Marianas clan, whose fiery trench lies still waiting over an Everest under the Pacific surface, Milton prefers the shallows. He gets the bends easy where the drink goes dark.