Toothpick bridge

I'm reposting this in a different version in case anyone missed it when I posted a couple weeks back. I'm just really curious if this has ever been discussed any where before, and also thanks to all those whose posts on this sub helped me put this together.
SUMMARY: The TV program The Sopranos inserted the sound effects of crows, trains, and automobile horns during a large proportion of its death scenes, as well as some number of death-related scenes. This use of sound effects in death and death-related scenes, appears to be a tribute and imitation of the film The Godfather, which also employed the sounds of crows, trains, and automobile horns during several death scenes or death-related scenes. In The Sopranos this usage of sound effects started as early as the second episode of the first season, and doing a non-exhaustive search I have so far found it in around 24 episodes of The Sopranos, sometimes in multiple scenes in the same episode. There is also one usage specifically of the sound of a crow in the final episode which can be interpreted as suggesting that Tony was at least in danger of dying during the final scene at Holsten’s. This all may sound crazy but if you go and watch dozens of death scenes from the show you will see it, and you can use my list with time stamps to find them.
My blog entry figuring out how I figured this out and crediting the other members of this sub whose posts helped me put this together: https://sopranosdeathsounds.wordpress.com/2024/04/17/crows-trains-and-automobile-horns-sounds-of-death-on-the-sopranos/
Blog entry with list of known occurrences of crow, train, and automobile horn sound effects in death and death-related scenes:
https://sopranosdeathsounds.wordpress.com/2024/04/17/examples-of-crow-train-and-automobile-horn-sounds-in-the-sopranos/
EXCERPT FROM THE LIST: (This is not all the examples at the blog entry, which is likely not all the examples at the show as I haven't checked every scene in every episode. Also NOTE: Because I used Max streaming service to watch the show and it only provides accurate and reliable time stamps for the time remaining, all time stamps refer to time remaining if watching on Max)
S1 E2: “46 Long”
-11:13 In the scene where the driver of a truck being hijacked by Brendan Filone is accidentally shot and killed, starting soon after the driver turns off the truck, if you listen carefully there are numerous sounds of varying volumes from an invisible train in the background, including train horns, a fast moving train, and various train-related knocking noises.
S1 E4: “Meadowlands”
-45:56 After Christopher finds Brendan Filone’s dead body in the bath tub a truck horn sounds three times, and then at -45:53 as the scene cuts from Adriana hugging a distraught Christopher to the hallway at AJ’s school there is an unexplained foghorn-like sound.
S1: E10 “A Hit Is A Hit”
-50:31 a split second after Paulie shoots the drug trafficker a car horn sounds in the street outside the apartment.
S1 E11: “Nobody Knows Anything”
15:55 just as Makazian starts to climb onto the bridge railing to jump off and kill himself, you hear a particularly loud truck air horn in the background. During his jump the traffic noise from the bridge goes quiet and when it returns after he hits the water the first sound is a car horn.
S1 E13: “I Dream of Jeanie Cusamano”
20:00 Crows, along with other birds, are heard in the background throughout the sequence where Mikey “Fuckfaceitis” Palmice is pursued through the woods by Paulie and Christopher and finally executed in a hail of bullets after a brief exchange. The crows start around -20:00, return at -19:30, and again at -1915, and then basically go on with only brief interruptions until about -18:00 as the crows become louder and more agitated in their cawing as the tension in the scene increases and as the final hail of bullets execute Palmice.
S2 E8: “Full Leather Jacket”
-2:43 A loud truck or train air horn sounds from an invisble source after Sean Gismonte has repeatedly shot Christopher and before Christopher has returned fire and killed Sean.
-2:28 After Sean Gismonte is killed while still in his car seat, the car rolls slowly forward and then hits another causing its alarm to go off.
S3 E9: “Another Toothpick”
25:11 After Bobby Baccalieri Sr. pulls up outside the house where Mustang Sally is hiding out, and while he is still sitting in the car outside, at -25:11 crows can be heard cawing along with sounds of a train when no train is visible. At -25:01 the crows can be heard again. In the next scene Baccalieri Sr. murders Mustang Sally and Sally’s friend Carlos, and in the following scene Baccalieri Sr. also dies in car crash — after collapsing onto his car horn at -19:58.
S5 E12: “Long Term Parking”
-9:22 After Silvio’s second shot executing Adriana, crows caw in the background.
S5 E13: “All Due Respect”
-19:59 Immediately after Tony Soprano shoots Tony Blundetto in the face on the front porch of the farm house, a crow caws in the background.
S6 E18 : “Heidi and Kennedy”
-40:58 A crow is cawing outside the house when Tony is awoken in bed by his maid the morning after killing Christopher, and also in the cut immediately after the brief scene of Kelly screaming when she gets the news about his death.
-33:47 A crow is cawing in background in backyard as Tony goes out to throw the Cleaver mug into the bushes.
S6 E 19: “The Second Coming”
-33:18 Crow cawing in background outside as AJ looks out at pool.
-33:03 Crow cawing in background as AJ sits on diving board with plastic bag and cinder block preparing to drown himself in pool.
-31:39 Crow cawing in background as Tony walks towards front door of house after parking out front, as AJ is struggling in the pool while still tied to cinderblock.
S6 E 20: “Blue Comet”
-16:04 Tony is in his backyard working on his pool and sweeping leaves and Janice is there talking to him. As Janice leaves Tony is angry and saying nasty things about Bobby, and as he talks about Bobby a crow caws in the background.
-15:44 Seconds later Silvio comes to speak with Tony and as he walks up a crow caws in the background.
Immediately after Silvio speaks to Tony, we see Bobby get shot and killed. Immediately after that we see Silvio get shot and left in a coma.
S6 E21 “Made in America”
-10:16 Tony is raking leaves in his backyard and then stops and looks up and around contemplatively. As he does a crow can be heard faintly but definitely briefly cawing in the background. Immediately after this Carmela walks up to Tony and tells them they are going to dinner at Holsten’s.

Hi, I’m a first-year middle school teacher, and I teach this class that’s basically just a grab bag of different things- a little bit of math, English, reading clocks, social-emotional learning, etc. The teacher next door teaches the same class, but literally gives me no help. Right now she’s starting a unit where they build bridges, and catapults and stuff -stuff my kids all want to do. I have one student, let’s call her Jenny, who was born with a Symbrachydactyly anomaly, meaning she was born without a hand and a portion of her lower arm. She’s able to use it for a lot of things like holding things still, carrying things, etc., but in the past when I’ve given assignments with cutting or folding, I’ve ended up doing large portions of it for her. She’s smart, funny, compassionate, and is a really good friend to some of the other kids, but the girl needs some confidence. I don’t think ‘doing it for her’ is helping her build that. She is also really anxious so if she feels like someone else is going to take control of a situation, or if she doesn’t feel like there’s room for her to get involved she won’t assert herself. I’m not saying that I don’t understand why she struggles in those departments, just that it makes things a little more challenging. I really want to do the building activities as a class, for example building catapults, marble runs, toothpick bridges, tower building, but I don’t want to alienate her during that time, I want there to be things that she fully feels confident doing.
If you have any ideas, tips or advice I would really appreciate it, thank you!

“I'm sorry, I need you to repeat that.” A hologram of a hooded figure said, moving the hood to the side as they stared up at the four armed, weasel-like Wellian pirate. “I could have sworn you said, you raided a Human orphanage that sat at the edge of their systems and made off with the young to hold as hostages…..” The figure continued, an odd sort of calm tone in their voice.
“Yeup. Got a bunch of good ones, too. Couple actual human young along with a few galkans, which ‘ll fetch a-”
“Put them back. For the love of the fabric of reality, put them the FECK back before whoever runs the orphanage decides to come for ALL of us!” the figure interrupted, tone no longer calm, but panicked, jabbing a finger at the captain, even as the surrounding crews glanced at one another in confusion, short of the first mate, who was in the brig at the back of the bridge for vehemently disagreeing with such a line of action, and now sat with said young, and only shook their head from underneath the gaggle of children sleeping on his body.
“Already too late, lads. Ah warned ya, but ye didn't want ta listen.” The hammerheadded alien sighed, simply setting back, wincing as a few of his bruises twinged as it rubbed against the little ones, but bit back a curse. “An’ now ye be reapen’ yer desserts.” He said as alarms screeched suddenly, waking the children up, many Of the downy covered galkan heads popping up in alarm, spinning about. “shhh, little uns’. Just yer caretakers coming ta get ye back.” The shark like pirate said, rubbing the galkans heads, making them chirp lowly, and settle back down with the others again, chattering softly.
“Cap'n! Ship to our aft! Looks like an old Hauler type.” One of the sensor officers spoke, catching everyone's attention, and confused the hammerhead for a moment.
An image of the aging, former cargo vessel appeared on the holoscreen, burning towards them with a vengeance. She was beaten and battered, clearly having been put lovingly back together with care over her who knew how many decades in the Black, designed like an old seafaring container ship. MAC turrets replaced her cargo containers on her deck, flanking a massive cannon, raised off her deck, aimed directly at them, while nose and keel were more heavily armored then a normal. Her hull sprouted more turrets to her fore and aft, with broadside cannons in-between them, aimed outwards,while the eerie glow of whatever engines she now bore glowed behind her, pushing her forward in a steady pursuit.
“Sir, we be out of the turrets firin’ minimum effective range, but we can't do anythin’ about her main cannon.” One of the officers said, eyeing the cannon dubiously. “Not like they'll fire on us anyways. Got hostages, don’ we?” they said as they smirked…. Only for it to fade at the Aquarian shaking his head amongst the little ones. One of the children poked their head up and giggled like a little menace.
“Unca B brought Fleur ” they giggled, making one of the other officers freeze, and slowly turn to face them… noticeably, this officer was a Ka'ri, and had agreed to this as a act of revenge…… but now sported a pale complexion on their body, their massive, cycloptic eye's iris shrunk to a pinprick.
“The Fleur?…..?” they said slowly, before spinning around, hands flying across the console-
“Sir! Massive energy spike in the vessels energy output, engines increasing heat output, they actually gonna'-” the officers report went silent as the screen showed the worn vessel rock as the main cannon fired silently into the black, a pointed shell rocketing towards them at near lightspeed.
“helm’ adjust course. It's a low speed MAC, jus’ let it pass. Dumb humies” the captain smirked, as the ship shuddered, RCS Engines strafing them up….
And then they saw fire erupt from the ‘shell’ zipping towards them, realigning to still hit them, and was closing distance at a rapid pace.
“Sah! Transmission from the ship!” One of the Vox officers called out, as a screen flickered….
And revealed a brute of a man, squished into a chair with a crash harness overtop him and his armor, rolling a cigar between his lips with a frown of disdain. A bandana kept his hair neat underneath, while a thick beard with faint, white stripes in it adorned his face, his thick, bushy eyebrows bent down in a scowl. After taking a draw from the cigar, the human pulled it from his mouth and spoke. “This is Captain Brutus of th’ Fleur De Cadavre. Yeh morons got ten seconds tah hand over me nieces and nephews before me brother an’ I come in there and give the lot of yeh a pummelin’.” Came the deep, bear like voice of the man, even as he flicked the ash forming on the end of his cigar into a tray on the arm.
“......... Feck.” The hologram near the pirate captain whispered quietly, staring at the same screen the captain was.
“and what's a human Pirate got with a bunch of cast offs and nobodies?” The wellian growled back, narrowing his eyes at the brute of a human staring back, even as the room the man sat in seemed to shake, lights flickering.
Nearby, the helmsman on the wellian pirates ship cursed viciously, and pulled hard on the controls, the ships artificial gravity systems fighting to keep the rapid velocity change from affecting the organic occupants.
“that bunch o’ ‘cast offs and nobodies’, as yeh called ‘em,” the brute said, as a slow grin spread across his face, revealing a metal tooth in his grill, “happen ta be me Brothers adopted family, makin’ ‘em ME family. May not agree with me straight laced brother on much, but somthin’ we both agree on is yeh don't touch our family, Stoat brain. So ah'd best be ready tah hand em back, unharmed.”
The transmission cut out, just as the sensor operator yelled.
“BRACE FOR IMPACT!”
the entire ship shook, waking up the other kids, while the ones who had been awake giggled playfully. “Unca B's maaaaaad” one giggled.
/zzzzzzzzzzzzzz/
Several pirates surrounded the spike like projectile that had punched a hole in their ship, splitting the deck apart. The back half, just before the engine on it, thankfully had a flange and had sealed the air in. What worried them most, though, was the hatch on the side, opened up, showing signs of literally being forced through the deck that should have, by rights, kept it shut.
“Kriffing….. the Thall was in this thing?” One said as they inched closer to the ruined marks on the floor.
“No clue.” Another said as they slowly walked closer to the thing and peeked inside. “Huh.” They mumbled. “Only one crash harness is up, all the others are still down…wait, the pilot's one is up too…..”
“Ya don't say” a deep voice said behind them, right before a massive, metal covered fist appeared where their head HAD been, the pirate themselves now embedded in the opposite wall.
“Now the real fun begins” the towering human smirked, rolling his shoulders as he calmly lit a fresh cigar he pulled from a pouch on his armor, “ain't that right?” He asked a smaller figure, who was lighting their own corncob pipe, and gave a grin up at the other.
“Yep. Let's go and say hello” said a lighter, more bubbly voice, though it had a raspy edge to it, like someone who was used to belting out orders and having them followed to the dot.
/zzzzzzzzzzzzzz/
“Oim one tough Gazookus, which hates all palookas, what ain't be on the up an’ the square-” an eerie, jovial shanty rang out through the corridor, much to the huddling pirates horror, the words distorted either by a speech impediment, or likely the corncob pipe in the singer's mouth.
“Sonoffa-kriffing-Thall, we should have never gone to that station! Just what in the seven rings of torment did the captain piss off this time!?” One pirate whispered, poking their head out of the corridor.
A light down the hall suddenly had a silhouette of a human, wearing a officers cap and a pipe pass through it, forcing them to duck back down into the cupboard.
“so oi biffs and oi buffs ‘em, and ALWAYS out rough's ‘em-” the voice continued, before trailing off quieter down the hall, making the pirates sigh with relief.
“Thank the void he didn't turn down the hall, there's no way he wouldn't have found us.” Another pirate whispered softly, leaning against the wall.
“BUT NONE OF ‘EM GETS NOWHERE!”
Twin fists punch through the bulkhead besides them, ripping a hole through the wall, right as a wiry form grabs the pirate that had been against the wall and snaps them in half like a toothpick, throwing them to the side, the sound of a hissing piston heard, just before a punch is thrown, and the faint light in the cupboard showed a piston, jutting out of the elbow area along the back of the bulky forearm slamming forward with the blow, helping drive the fist through his opponents chest-
/zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz/
The bridge was, understandably, in a tizzy, officers sprinting left and right, barking orders, and getting worrying reports from the lower decks.
Outside the ship, the Fleur De Cadavre kept pace, like some sort of horrific specter hounding them, her cannons tracking them closely, not letting go them once, keeping them locked in, even if the main cannon was no longer aimed at them.
“Sir! Multiple injuries on the lower decks, blunt injuries, broken bones, snapped limbs by the sounds of it!” One officer called out as another ran up, panting.
The officer in question looked terrible, armor beaten and tattered, dented in various places by what looked like a fist, though oddly, it looked like the armor was twisted around said fist mark.
“Sir! We can't stop them and getting close is virtual suicide!” they said as they tried to pull themselves together as the captain wellian snarled, pulling out a small, black vial, and began to load it into his armor.
“All this for a bunch of cast offs.” He snarled under his breath as multiple troopers Surrounded the doorway that had just slammed shut, the sound of pneumatic locks hissing shut.
BOOM
A massive fist suddenly appeared in the door on one side-
BOOM another fist, similar sized, but set lower, and a different shape, appeared on the other side, forcing the door off its rails, even as the metal.tried to hold firm-
BANG!
the doors flew off their hinges as a duo of laughter rang out, one deep and harsh, the other lighter, more jovial, though a chaotic tone accompanied it
“A guh-guh-guh-guh!”
And stepping of the shadows was the hulking form of Dread Privateer Bluto the Terrible, his trademark smirk on his face….
And at his side was the smaller, laughing form of a wiry human, one eye unable to see thanks to a deformity on one side of his face, the result of countless fistfight he had likely gotten in and rumored to have won, his corncob pipe angled in the air as he grinned widely, though his working eye panned about the room, locking onto each of the soldiers and pirates, noting their position….
All while he tore the lid off a can of a green, leafy food with his bulky hands, calmly tipping it back, before swallowing, smirking.
“So,” Former Commodore Frank ‘Popeye’ Fiegel said, as the synthetic skin on his bulky lower arms separated along his wrists, his fists beginning to spin as capacitors in his arms whined loudly. “Who's da Palookas ahm pummelin’ tahday?” He said with a vicious grin

Long Story. The upper teeth 5 and 6 are missing. A year ago (March), root canal treatment was performed on upper tooth number 7, which was successful. Last December, I went back to the dentist because I felt a slight pain in my face. It was a dull, tingling pain radiating to my eye and ear. I didn't need to take any painkillers. The dentist said I have gum inflammation and widened the gap between teeth 7 and 8. He tapped on the tooth, it didn't hurt. X-rays were taken, and everything was found to be fine. He recommended Curasept mouthwash and gel.
A month later, I went back to have a dental bridge made for teeth 4, 5, 6, and 7. A CT scan was also done to ensure everything was fine. My tooth was shaved down, and later the crown was permanently placed.
The strange pain didn't go away. Before the permanent crown was placed, the dentist checked multiple times and said my gums were healing nicely. He still couldn't see any problem with my tooth. Based on X-rays and CT scans, there didn't seem to be any issues.
During our last appointment, he said that it's possible my gums got inflamed and I feel radiating pain because my tooth wasn't replaced for a long time, and the load was concentrated on that single tooth. Also, my wisdom tooth is intact; they didn't find any problems with it either. It's not decayed, and CT scans didn't show any abnormalities.
They placed the dental crown two weeks ago, but there hasn't been any change. I visited an ear, nose, and throat specialist, but there's no problem with my nasal cavity or my ear.
I've been living with this pain for 4 months now, and although I don't need to take painkillers, it's present every day, which is very bothersome. The only thing I can think of is that even though my gums appeared pink between the two teeth before the crown was placed, I saw a rather red sore, and if I managed to touch it with a toothpick, it hurt terribly. Now that the crown has been placed, of course, you can't see between the two teeth anymore, and it looks completely healed and pink from the side. Is it possible that months ago, some food debris actually got stuck in there, which hurted it, and as the dentist widened the gap between the two teeth, it also caused damage to my gums, resulting in a huge wound that is very slow to heal? Im at a Loss...

I get cargo ships are massive and bridges are massive but relatively speaking it looked like that cargo ship just "tapped" the bridge and it folded over like a toothpick bridge you made in your high school physics class. Wouldn't there be riprap, fenders, etc at the base of the pillars to stop ship from even getting close to the bridge pillars. It's a major shipping way and there was no protection from ship accidents?

My third week working at Hal’s found me shoveling harpy shit. The filthy birds used their horrifically scarred, twisted, and just generally unattractive human heads to hurl insults at me as the sweat dripped down my face. Cleaning this particular cage was always rough, as the dirty hybrids took a great deal of joy in trying to add to the mess faster than I could clean it.
My poop-cart was half full of a variety of dung, having already cleaned out the unicorn, chupacabra, thunderbird, and yeti cages. I’m not sure exactly what bizarre combination of chemistry and magic was happening, but somehow the scent emanating from the cart reminded me of quality chicken parmesan.
“Hey cocksucker, liking that smell? Want a taste from the source?” screeched Blanche from high above me. The four disgusting creatures laughed raucously and started lobbing down additional work for me to enjoy.
Rose fluttered down to stare at me. “If you’re going to be doing butt stuff with us, you’re gonna need some lube.” And she spat directly at my face. I swung up my pitchfork to block, the spittle immediately sizzling through one of the tines and dripping to the straw-covered floor.
“Rose,” I said sternly, “If you ruin my equipment, I’m just going to head back to the thrift shop and you can spend the next week swimming in compost.”
Rose snorted at me and flapped her way back up the perches where her sisters sat chortling.
I slipped back on my headphones to drown out the screeching vitriol and continued with my chores. Internally I reminded myself that I was still in my “training” period, which, much like many of my previous jobs, mostly consisted of doing all the work that Butch didn’t want to do. Still though, I thought as I used the remaining part of the pitchfork to lift another load of rancid harpy shit, this was better than working at Denny's.
Despite the intrinsically unpleasant nature of the cleanup, I genuinely enjoyed spending time in the Menagerie. Ten-year-old me had been utterly obsessed with cryptids, so getting the opportunity to crawl into a large pen and cuddle with a couple dozen jackalopes was kind of a dream come true. Not to mention the weekly poker games with the centaurs. I had doubled my first paycheck when I realized they were incapable of understanding the concept of bluffing.
Half an hour later and I could finally walk across the harpy cage and actually feel the firmness of the floor beneath my feet. Exhaling explosively, I pulled the wheelbarrow out of the cage, locked the door behind me, and leaned tiredly against the bars. I allowed my eyes to wander around the store as I tried to will my muscles into relaxation.
Much like the thrift shop, the menagerie seemed to have been organized by an utter madman. Large beasts were housed next to tiny. Predators next to prey. Those capable of speech across from those who mostly just roared or screeched. The only exception was the largest animals (dragons, mammoths, the bipolar cyclops, etc) who were all held by the far west wall where the ceiling was highest.
A soft bell rang as a customer entered. I stabbed the pitchfork into the pile of waste, pulled off my headphones, and began walking towards the front to make myself available. Behind me, Dorothy made a comment on my backside that would have been flattering from anyone else and sent another bomb through the bars to splatter at my feet.
I was fully prepared to launch into a formal retail greeting, but my words caught in my throat as I saw who had entered. Dark hair, full lips, green-grey eyes that pierced through every defense I possessed, a low cut blouse that presented a couple very convincing reasons to break eye contact, this woman’s beauty was other-worldly. Actually, considering the nature of most of my clientele, other-worldly was probably more literal than literary.
She smiled at me and I forgot my standard greeting, my name, and how to breathe.
“Hey there, new guy,” she purred softly.
“King illegal forest to pig wild kill in it a is,” I responded wittily.
She blinked. “Well that one's new.”
“Excuse me for a moment.” I turned and walked over to the barrel full of coconut rum I had prepared to feed the rougarou and dunked my head in, taking in a few large mouthfuls. I reemerged, dripping, cold, and a little queasy from the taste.
“Let me try that again,” I said. Nothing like a full immersion in alcohol to help talk to a woman way out of your league. “Hi, welcome to Hal’s Low Cost Menagerie. My name’s Clear, how can I help you?”
The woman smiled broadly. “I must say, you handled that better than a lot of men.”
“A lot of things get easier once a guy embraces his own idiocy. What brings you in today, ingredients, food, or companionship?”
“I actually just needed to have a word with Butch. Is he around?”
“Butch should be covering the counter in the thrift shop. If you wanted to look around for a bit, I can run and grab him for you.”
“Maybe in a minute. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in this part of the shop.” She stepped forward and looped her arm with mine. “And since this is the section I walked into, I think the shop wants us to get acquainted.”
Goosebumps raised instantly on the part of her arm that touched mine, which immediately brought up a twinge of nervous suspicion. Butch had insisted that I reverse my monkey paw wish, quite understandably of the opinion that fear was absolutely necessary to keep oneself from doing something idiotically reckless in an environment like Hal's. We worked on the wording of the wish for a ridiculously long time to restore my fear, allow me to function while afraid without crapping my pants, and to avoid any comically ironic twists. It seemed to work out pretty well, although I had noticed that the more scared I became, the more I would impulsively make sardonic comments. Butch didn't seem to notice that part, since it fit my personality like a glove.
I led the distractingly beautiful woman through the dank maze of cages, allowing her to direct the duration spent admiring each of the animals. She had obviously been around the mythical block a few times, since she barely seemed impressed by some of the more commonplace residents like the chimeras and the jersey devils. She hurried past the harpy cages as the four of them immediately began to harmonize in a repetitive chant of “Whore.” But she did fall instantly in love with the three-headed quokkas. Brushing off my warnings (I had seen a few of the more mature ones let out small belches of fire), she released my arm and climbed directly into the pen with them, laying down and allowing them to curiously climb over her while she laughed delightedly.
“Oh I love these!” she exclaimed. “What are they?”
“They were just discovered a couple weeks ago. We decided to call them Chalamets.”
“Chalamets?”
“Yeah, because they’re cute, but also kind of off-putting.”
She laughed again as one of them began to shimmy its body down the front of her blouse. I sternly told myself that it was ridiculous to be jealous of a rodent. The woman rose gracefully back to her feet, the Chalamet still nestled comfortably between her breasts. Two of its heads were sticking out of the top of her shirt looking around gleefully. The third seemed to have fallen asleep against the swell of her cleavage. Lucky jerk.
“I guess I’ve been chosen,” she declared, climbing carefully out of the pen. “This little guy’s coming home with me.”
“The pets pick the owners,” I agreed. “We can get you checked out in the thrift shop if you still needed to talk to Butch, Ms….”
“Babs.”
I was incredibly confused for a moment because the voice that spoke her name was not the dulcet music she had used before, but rather masculine and gruff and gravelly. Also it seemed to be coming from behind me.
Butch was standing next to the kelpie stalls, his customary scowl had descended into a disgusted grimace. Babs gave him a smile that would have lit up a cemetery, but Butch didn’t soften so much as a werewolf’s hair.
“I thought we agreed that it would be best if you stayed away from the shop,” Butch said, his voice dangerous.
“I thought that was more of a suggestion,” Babs entreated. “I didn’t think you had actually trespassed me.”
“That suggestion was based off the assumption that you didn’t want to see me any more than I wanted to see you.”
“Butch, come on, don't be like that. It’s been, what, fifty years since the last time we saw each other? Think for a minute, would I stay away that long only to show up now if it wasn’t important?”
“Why do you have a Chalamet between your tits?”
Babs crossed her hands across her chest protectively. “Even someone like me needs an emotional support animal, Butch.”
“Get a harpy, then. You'd have more in common.”
“I knew it was you who got them to call me that!”
I started laughing uncontrollably. Butch and Babs paused their fighting to stare at me.
“Butch, you absolute rascal!” I chortled. “You never told me you used to be married!”
It’s not often that you get to witness an actual miracle, so I made sure to relish every second that I was able to see Butch blush. Babs suddenly became very occupied scratching a basilisk behind it’s ear. My shit-eating grin stayed on my face as I forced a big hug on Butch. “Man, she is way too hot for you! What, are you actually rich or something? Is this the part where I ask for a raise? Or hang on, was it a physical thing? Wait here, I'm gonna go get a ruler!”
Butch pulled away angrily. “Clear, is there any way I can convince you to just not be yourself right now?”
“Not a chance, DeMarco! You know I have a terminal case of not knowing when to shut up. So…” I sat down on the wheelbarrow full of dung and leaned back comfortably, my stomach growling at the smell, “How did you two meet? Also Babs, does that mean your single now?”
The look Butch gave me was disgusted. I returned it with an impish grin.
“You really have no concept of appropriate, do you, Clear?”
“We work in a second hand shop. This is kinda what we do.”
Butch sighed and Babs tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smile.
“I think I like this one, Butch,” she told him.
“Yeah, you would. Maybe you should just tell me why you’re here,” Butch said to her. “I’m not sure if I have the energy to play around today.”
“Well that sounds familiar.”
“Babs, come on!”
Babs’ grin flickered and fell. “Butch, Hal’s been hiding out at my place for the last few months. He went missing yesterday.”
Butch’s face didn’t change, but he did fall silent. Babs seemed to be silently pleading with him to hear her out, and he was obviously considering it. Finally he glanced over at me.
“Clear, I think we need a couple minutes. The BEKs just got in with a new shipment, will you go sign them in and restock please?”
There were times to joke and there were times to just leave people to their conversation. I had a hard time telling the difference sometimes, or most of the time, but I had learned that when Butch asked politely, it was probably for the best to just follow his lead. I nodded silently and made my way to the elevator at the back of the menagerie.
In the elevator, I took a moment to consider the whole conversation I had just witnessed. Hal had been staying with Butch’s ex-wife? That actually made a lot of sense. I knew Hal and Butch had been pretty famously tight, so the last place anyone would have expected Hal to go would be Butch’s ex-wife.
And what did that mean for Babs? Butch was one of the most formidable people I knew, but even he had spoken of Hal with a bit of awe. If Hal went to Babs for protection, god only knows what she must be capable of. Honestly, it probably meant she was exactly my type, i.e. a really bad idea. No, I wasn't really going to try to hook up with her, tempting though it may be. But she did strike me as someone who would play along with my attempts to get a rise out of Butch.
I shook myself out of my thoughts and pressed the TC button on the panel. I felt the slowly-becoming familiar lurch in my stomach. My hand instinctively reached out to brace myself against the wall as the tiny room began racing off to the left. That surprised the hell out of me the first time I'd ridden this thing. I had tried to figure out how any of it was possible at first, but pretty quickly decided I liked not having a migraine more.
The elevator entered it's cruising speed, so I placed my hand on the other wall to prepare for the equally jarring deceleration. While I waited, my eyes scanned down the button panel again. There were six of them. Well, nine if you count the door-open/door-close/we're-all-gonna-die buttons. Besides the TC where I was going and the M from where I’d just been, there were also buttons for FD - our fine dining restaurant, LH - our love hotel, and one actually managed to fit in BOSEC - the blood orgy suite and event center. The final button was at the bottom, and it just said D. Butch hadn’t told me what that one went to, just to never go down there unless Satan himself was on my tail. I had decided that it was prudent to take him at his word on that one.
I felt my weight shift shift towards my bracing hand. I tried not to think about how far I had traveled in the last three minutes. I hadn’t stepped outside from the Menagerie exit yet, but I knew the restaurant opened just outside Brussels, and that trip only took about a minute thirty. The elevator ground to a halt, and the doors opened to the thrift store. No customers, fortunately. Butch had assured me that stealing from the place was impossible, but even in the supernatural realms, customers became pissy when they had to wait.
The BEKs were not customers, though, so they just had to put up with waiting. Four of them stood next to the front counter, three boys and one girl. A pallet with several layers of boxes was floating about six inches off the ground next to them. As usual, their faces were identical and expressionless. Their blond hair was cut in the same early Beatles bowl cut. Their eyes were the same deep black voids.
“About time, asshole,” the tallest of them grumbled. It always amused me that despite their appearance, they always sounded like middle-aged teamsters.
“Deepest apologies, my Tallest,” I intoned mournfully while dipping into a florid bow. Standing back up I slipped back into my normal speech. “Seriously, though, I'm really not. I was watching Butch meet up with the ex he hasn't seen in fifty years. Believe me, totally worth it.”
The tallest snorted. “Babs is back, huh? That poor guy. She's had centuries of experience manipulating men like him.”
“Hey, I'm still new here. This was the first I'd heard of her. You guys want to fill me in on some backstory?”
The girl shook her head. “Not our business, kid. We deal in inventory, not gossip. Union rules.”
“Nothing wrong with a little idle conversation, munchkin!”
“Call me that again and you’ll lose a finger.”
“I believe you, short stuff. Come on, I just want to know how large the pile of shit I’m standing in is.”
Another of the boys blew out a breath. “Look, we really don’t pay much attention. She was here a lot, and then she wasn’t. I know she worked for METH, so she spent most of her time down in the restaurant.”
I blinked in surprise. “Didn’t see that coming. Whatever, I’m pretty sure most of us have a past we’re not so proud of. And working in the restaurant would make sense if she was on meth.”
The tallest spoke again, “Quit thinking like an idiot, Clear. M-E-T-H, Monsters for the Ethical Treatment of Humans. Babs used to make sure the people they served down in the restaurant were treated humanely and that they didn’t suffer unnecessarily during the slaughtering process.”
“Oh! Nice, she struck me as the humanitarian sort. Any idea why they split?”
“Butch’s old assistant kept on jokingly flirting with her, so Butch killed him.”
“Oh fuck, really?”
“No, not really. Now will you please sign the damn paperwork so we can get back to work?”
I grabbed the outstretched clipboard, signed my name at the bottom, and handed it back. The tallest tore off the receipt copy and handed it back to me. The four of them walked in lockstep out of the door as I turned to begin the unloading process. Curious as I was about what Butch and Babs were talking about, I had to admit that this was my favorite part of the job. The paperwork identified this as estate sale procurements, which meant a fifty-fifty chance of it being junk or awesome. The BEKs were good at picking out items of significance, but a well-loved children's toy or a serial killer’s trophy collection had a tendency to set off that same bell in their heads.
I was met with disappointment for the first eight boxes. Well, mostly. I did find myself spending an inordinate amount of time studying a fascinating painting of what appeared to be a Soviet-era army marching across an ocean with the silhouette of the Golden Gate Bridge barely visible in the background. A pod of fish painted with the Soviet flag swam about the advancing army's feet. I decided to hang it behind the cash register so I could study it more in depth later. There was definitely something to it since it took every ounce of concentration to pull my eyes off of it.
I struck gold on the ninth box where I found a translated copy of the Voynich Manuscript, an unabridged version of the Egyptian Book of the Dead, twelve missing books of Homer - one of which was titled “That time Achilles and Odysseus totally boned,” a strange red hat that smelled like sulfur-flavored ambergris and looked like it was perpetually coated with sand, and a small bow complete with arrow-filled quiver that all appeared to be plated in gold. Pulling out one of the arrows, I noticed that they seemed to be quite intentionally phallic. I quickly double checked everything in the box off the inventory list the BEKs gave me and set it aside for Butch set prices.
I found a few other decent items scattered through the rest of the boxes, but I handled them myself due to us having very similar items already in stock. Mass produced grimoires, a few tarot decks, a couple haunted toys, a number of enchanted pieces of clothing, things like that.
At the bottom of the final box, since that’s how these things always go for some reason, I found trouble. The moment I picked up the forest green book with “Hi, Clear!” written in Comic Sans on the front cover, I knew there was no way anything good could come of it. But, of course, I immediately said “Hi, book! Nice to meet you!” and opened it.
The first line of the first page simply read “Ha, you fucking idiot!” and it began to glow red hot in my hands. I dropped it, since I had completely ignored the MOSHA requirements of protective equipment when handling untested magical artifacts. On the floor, the book flipped it’s pages towards the center and began to emit a bubble of green light.
“Oh goddamn it!” I yelled, and quickly ran behind the register to grab the canister of pure salt we kept under the counter for situations like this. I managed to get a circle drawn around the book just before the bubble burst and a giant, hideous, praying mantis-looking thing flew directly at me. It hit the barrier with a dull thud, looked down at the circle of salt, and hissed audibly. I let out an audible breath as my heart pounded away in my chest. It twisted it’s arms and waved them in front of its face, immediately transforming into a woman with short red hair and piercing eyes. The wings stayed in place, though, flapping softly to keep her aloft and looking down in contempt at me.
“Release me,” she whispered fiercely at me.
I stared back at her, wanting to think she was cute but unable to get her insect form far enough out of my head to consider it. “I know there is much we can learn from each other if we can negotiate a truce. We can find a way to coexist. Can there be a peace between us?”
“Peace? No peace. Release me, now!”
“Man, Butch said you guys didn’t have a sense of humor, but you just rolled with that one straight away!”
“Rolled with what, human? I said release me this instant!”
“Wait, you mean those scriptwriters actually came up with realistic dialogue for that scene? Huh, who woulda thunk it.”
She threw up her hands. “Why must I always be caught by humans who make no sense?”
“I think that might say more about you than me, sweetie.”
The yellow door at the far end of the shop burst open and a tall, lanky fellow covered in red-brown fur casually strolled in.
“Jack!” I yelled enthusiastically. So far as I knew, nobody had laid eyes on him since he disappeared through that door on my first day.
Jack sauntered over to me and gave me a fist bump before clapping me on the shoulder with camaraderie. He glanced up at the fairie briefly, who bared a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth at him. He flipped her off in return.
“Where you been? Butch told me you’d be okay, but I was started to get a little worried.”
Jack reached into a pocket of fur and withdrew a small business card to hand over. In a small typeset, it simply said The Backrooms. I flipped it over to see a small description of “The itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny-multiversal-inbetweeny.”
“Yep. That definitely clears it all up.”
He grinned at me.
“Well let me buy you a drink down in the restaurant before you head out tonight. I definitely owe you one.”
He nodded at me. Then he shot a questioning glance up at the fairie trapped in her circle of salt.
“I have no idea. Butch told me how to trap her, but not what to do with her after. Any thoughts?”
Jack shrugged and fired a finger gun at her.
“That's a thought. It's iron rounds for fairies, right?”
Since I had absolutely no idea where Butch kept the iron bullets, it was probably for the best that he chose that moment to come through the elevator door.
“What’s all this then?” He asked, taking in the scene with a bewildered look.
“JACK!” yelled Babs from behind Butch with delight. She ran towards him and launched herself into his surprised embrace, burying her face into his fur. The Chalamet squeezed out from between them and scrambled up to the top of Jack's head, chittering in annoyance. Ever so slowly, I watched as Jack and Babs began to lose balance and tip backwards. It probably would have resulted in everyone sharing a good-natured laugh at their expense if they didn’t fall directly onto the salt line.
The faerie wasted no time flipping straight back into her praying mantis form and flying straight at me. I managed to duck underneath of her just before impact, but her back talons managed to swipe against my raised forearm, drawing a thin line of blood. She quickly made for the front door, but a quick shout of “Hey Siri! Set Fae protection wards!” from Butch blocked her exit with a cross cross of bright purple lines. She spun on us furiously, her face darting around the shop for another way out. Babs and Jack were pulling themselves back to their feet, but Butch was already in action, running through an aisle with his hands deftly swiping items off the shelves.
“Clear, get the salt ready!” Butch shouted at me.
Sensing that he was probably the largest threat in the room, the faerie went for Butch next. He slid to a stop at the end of the aisle and stood his ground. When she got close enough to him for Babs to let out a yell of concern, Butch reached into his pocket and threw a cloud of powder into her face. They must have been iron fillings or something, because she immediately shrieked and started trying to claw it out of her eyes. Butch moved in closer, an iron bar in his hand ready to finish her off, but one of her flailing wings caught him in the head and sent him sprawling.
She shook her insectile face and her reddened eyes fell on me standing in front of the cash register holding the bag of salt. Jack and Babs came at her from either side, but a powerful flap of her wings sent them flying. I stared dumbly at her as she began to race straight at me, her face filled with rage. I looked around helplessly for anything within reach that might help me in this fight. The Chekhov Gun was too far away, nothing nearby was made with iron, really the only thing within reach that might work was…
I grabbed the painting of the Soviet army walking on water and held it up between me and the charging fae.
The impact never came. I lowered the painting just enough for me to look over the top and saw her examining the painting while tapping her chin thoughtfully with her long, thin tarsi.
“Interesting,” she said. “Is this intended as a cold war propaganda piece? If so, which side is it for? A warning for the West or an aspiration for the East?”
“I’m not sure,” I replied, calmly walking around the counter and pretending to contemplate the painting while surreptitiously beginning to reform the salt circle around her. “I thought at first that it was just a depiction of some kind of Orwellian future, but now I’m starting to wonder if it’s something way more insidious.”
“This might actually be an original Alexander Samokhvalov,” she said, fascinated.
“I don’t actually know, we just got it in. I haven’t had a chance to get it officially appraised yet. If you’re interested, though, we might be able to make a deal.” I stepped back and sprinkled the last bit of salt in the bag onto the completed circle. With a quick motion, I reached over and pulled the painting away, breaking her line of sight.
Dismay filled her eyes as she looked down to realize she was trapped again. “Fuck me,” she groaned.
“Sorry,” I said. “Really not interested when you’re still in that skin. If you want to switch back to the redhead, though, we could talk about it.”
The faerie shot me a dirty look, but shifted back to her human form anyway. “If that is the cost of my freedom, I’ll do what I must do.”
“Ew. No. I was kidding. Sorry, I have a lot of perversions, but formicophilia is not on the list.”
“How do you know what it is called then?
“I really don't have a good answer to that. I Google random things when I'm bored.”
“Then name your desire, human, and allow me to return to my realm.”
Butch, Babs, and Jack had joined me around the circle at this point, and the two former lovers were exchanging a pointed look. “Weirdly enough, kid, your fuckup might have some unexpected benefits here. Babs and I were just coming to talk to you about it, actually. We need to track down Hal. This shop is in some serious trouble if the hellspawn manage to get ahold of him. He was safe over with Babs, but now that he’s vanished again, we really need to do something about this.”
He looked over at the trapped faerie. “How about that, can you bring Hal to us?”
“You did not trap me, shopkeeper. My deal is not with you.”
Butch looked at me. “All you kid. Think you're ready to go solo?”
I smiled at him. “I was born ready.” It was pretty satisfying that I even got Jack to let out an exasperated groan with that one. “Alright babe, what do you think, can you bring Hal back to us?”
The faerie’s eyes went distant. “No. He has been shielded against interference by faerie magic. I don’t know how, but I cannot touch him.”
“Well shit. How about information, can you tell us anything about him?”
She nodded. “Three questions, three true answers, and you will give me my freedom?”
“Fine, but no bullshit answers, okay? No ‘technically true, but only because homonyms exist,’ answers, and nothing so cryptic that it only makes sense after we're done, you got me? Also, once you give us the answers and I break the circle, you can’t hurt any of us for trapping you.”
“Agreed. I will speak only the full truth, and we shall all depart unharmed.”
“Alright. Where is Hal, what is the quickest way for us to get to him, and what will we need to do in order to successfully find him and bring him back?”
She closed her eyes briefly, as if scanning her hard drive. “He is currently hiding in Purgatory. The blue door at the back of the shop will bring you to the realm, but then you take the subway to Terrace 5 and catch the bus to the historical district. Once there, you must have with you a servant of Heaven, a denizen of Hell, and a man perpetually trapped in the mortal realm. Between the four of you, you will be able to track down a social media influencer who goes by the name of Razzamatazz, who will guide you to Hal. I cannot tell whether you will succeed in convincing him to return, the uncertainty that surrounds him is too deep to see clearly, but all other paths lead to certain failure. Bear in mind, these instructions are intended for you alone, if these others decide to leave you behind, these answers may no longer be truthful.”
“Alright, that’ll have to do. Thank you, gorgeous,” and I broke the salt circle with my foot.
The fairy immediately vanished with a crack of lightning. The four of us looked at each other for a moment.
“That was uncharacteristically straightforward for you, Clear,” Butch said, sounding slightly impressed.
“Eh, that whole ‘screwing up the three questions’ trope has been done to death. I didn’t think there was anything more I could add to it, so what’s the point?”
“Well, strangely enough, we have most of our group already here,” Babs commented. “All we need is a servant of heaven.”
“Wait, really?” I said, surprised. “Is Jack from Hell?”
“No, I am,” Babs replied. “My place is located in one of Hell’s suburbs.”
“And the man trapped in the mortal realm?”
Butch held to his hand. “Right here. I will be answering no follow up questions.” He looked over at Jack, “Hey buddy, glad you made it back okay. Any chance you’d be willing to keep an eye on the shop for a few days while we go drag the owner back?”
Jack raised his hand and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.
“Of course. I’ll give you double what I’m paying Clear.”
“Wait, what the fuck?” I yelped.
“Shut up, Clear, you’re still in training. Is that cool, Jack?”
Jack gave him a thumbs up.
“Great. So all we need to do now is track down a servant of heaven and we can get started.”
Right on cue, the front door opened and a fat, middle aged guy walked in, naked except for a drooping sash. He had a toothpick sticking out from his teeth and a tiny pair of soft white wings sticking out from his shoulderblades.. “Hey dudes,” he said with a lecherous smile on his face. “I just talked to a bunch of creepy kids who said you all might have my bow?”
A wide grin spread across my face. “I think we might have what you're looking for, but technically speaking it's our bow now.”
His face began to turn angry, but I held up a calming hand. “Let's not get off on the wrong foot, here, I'm sure we can make a deal. I'm Clear, by the way, it's good to meet you.”
He accepted my outstretched hand. “You too, I suppose. I'm Exmac.”
My grin grew three sizes that day. “Of course you are. Hey, anyone else hungry? I'm fucking starving. Let's hit the restaurant before we get started.”

Batik: A Journey from Wax to Art

Batik, an ancient art form with roots in Southeast Asia, involves creating designs on fabric using wax resist dyeing. Let's explore the magic behind this process:
Techniques:

• Traditional Batik:
  • Waxing: Using tools like a "canting" (spout tool) or "cap" (stamp), hot wax is applied to create intricate patterns.
  • Dyeing: The fabric is dipped in a dye bath, only areas not covered in wax absorb the color.
  • Repeating: This process is repeated for each additional color, with fresh wax applied to protect previously dyed areas.
  • Wax Removal: Finally, the wax is removed using boiling water or solvents, revealing the final design.
• Simpler Variations:
  • Crayon Batik: Similar to traditional, but uses melted crayons instead of hot wax. Great for beginners or kids!
  • Watercolor Batik: Painted wax designs resist watercolor paints, creating soft, blended effects.

Materials:

• Fabric: Natural fibers like cotton or silk work best. Pre-wash to remove sizing.
• Wax: Traditional techniques use beeswax, but paraffin wax is a readily available alternative.
• Dyes: Choose dyes suitable for your fabric (e.g., fabric dye for natural fibers). Start with primary colors to mix your own shades.
• Tools: Canting, tjaps (metal stamps), brushes, double boiler for wax, containers for dyes.
• Optional: Pencils for pre-drawing designs, newspapers for protection.

Tips for Beginners:

• Start small: Practice on a scrap fabric before tackling a large project.
• Work in sections: Divide your design into manageable areas to apply wax and dye.
• Experiment with different tools: Try brushes, stamps, or even toothpicks for unique textures.
• Embrace imperfections: Batik's beauty lies in its organic nature, so don't stress about perfect lines.
• Wash and iron carefully: Follow fabric and dye instructions for proper care.

Inspiration and Resources:

• Books: "Batik: Mastering the Art of Wax Resist Dyeing" by Janet Compton, "Batik for Beginners" by Laura Murray.
• Websites: batikguild.org, [invalid URL removed].
• Videos: YouTube channels like "Batik with Cheryl" and "Indonesian Batik Art".

Remember, batik is a journey of exploration and creativity. Don't be afraid to experiment, have fun, and express yourself through the vibrant world of wax and dye!

The Dazzling World of Beadwork:

Beadwork encompasses a vast and vibrant spectrum of arts and crafts, offering endless possibilities for creative expression. Here's a comprehensive guide to get you started:
Techniques:

• Stringing: Thread beads onto thread or wire, creating simple strands or complex patterns.
• Looming: Use a bead loom to weave intricate designs with warp and weft threads.
• Stitching: Incorporate beads into embroidery, crochet, or knitting projects.
• Bead Embroidery: Sew beads onto fabric to create raised designs and textures.
• Bead Weaving: Off-loom techniques like peyote stitch and brick stitch build three-dimensional forms.
• Bead Fusing: Join beads with heat to create unique shapes and embellishments.

Materials:

• Beads: Diverse materials like glass, seed beads, metal, stone, and even polymer clay offer endless options.
• Thread: Choose thread weight and material based on bead size and technique (e.g., nylon for stringing, cotton for embroidery).
• Needles: Beading needles with fine points are essential.
• Tools: Pliers, scissors, bead stoppers, tweezers, and optional tools like looms and bead trays.

Getting Started:

• Pick your project: Start with beginner-friendly patterns like simple necklaces or bracelets.
• Gather your supplies: Invest in quality materials that suit your project and budget.
• Learn the basics: Master fundamental techniques like stringing, knotting, and stitching before delving into complex projects.
• Practice makes perfect: Don't be discouraged by initial challenges. Regular practice hones your skills and builds confidence.
• Seek inspiration: Look for online tutorials, books, magazines, and craft communities for fresh ideas and techniques.

Tips and Tricks:

• Organize your beads: Use containers, bead organizers, or sorting trays to keep beads categorized and accessible.
• Condition thread: Waxing or using thread conditioner reduces friction and protects your thread.
• Secure your knots: Double or triple knots ensure beads stay put, especially for valuable materials.
• Experiment with color and texture: Combine different bead shapes, sizes, and colors to create unique effects.
• Take care of your tools: Clean and store your tools properly for longevity and optimal performance.

Resources:

• Websites: beadingdaily.com, firemountaingems.com, [invalid URL removed]
• Books: "Beadwork Basics" by Deb Moffett, "The Complete Guide to Beading" by Lark Books
• YouTube Channels: The Beading Gem, PotomacBeads, EriBeads

Remember, beadwork is a journey of continuous learning and discovery. Embrace the joy of experimentation, explore different styles, and let your creativity shine through!

The Art of Bonsai: Miniature Trees, Maximum Creativity

Bonsai, the art of cultivating miniature trees in containers, transcends mere craft. It's a fusion of horticulture, artistry, and patience, allowing you to sculpt living landscapes in the palm of your hand. Let's delve into the world of Bonsai:
Key Principles:

• Mimic Nature: Bonsai strive to capture the essence of mature trees in miniature, replicating natural forms like windswept pines or cascading willows.
• Patience is Key: Growth is slow, requiring years of careful pruning, wiring, and shaping to achieve the desired form.
• Balance is Essential: Proper branch placement, pot size, and foliage density contribute to the overall harmony of the composition.

Choosing Your Bonsai:

• Species: Start with hardy, beginner-friendly trees like Ficus or Chinese Elm. Consider your climate and preferences for indoor or outdoor trees.
• Style: Explore various styles like upright, informal upright, cascade, or literati to find one that resonates with you.
• Pre-Bonsai vs. Established: Pre-Bonsai offer more control, while established trees provide instant gratification but require less shaping.

Cultivation Essentials:

• Potting: Use well-draining soil mix and a pot that complements the tree's size and style. Repotting every 2-3 years is crucial for healthy growth.
• Watering: Water deeply and regularly, avoiding overwatering, which can harm roots. Observe your tree's needs based on species and climate.
• Lighting: Most Bonsai require bright, indirect sunlight. Research your specific species' light requirements.
• Pruning and Wiring: Prune regularly to control growth, encourage branching, and refine the shape. Use bonsai wire to temporarily bend branches.

Artistic Expression:

• Style Exploration: As you gain experience, explore different styles and experiment with advanced techniques like jin (deadwood) and shari (exposed bark).
• Pot Selection: Choose a pot that enhances the overall composition and complements the style of your Bonsai.
• Accessories: Stones, moss, and miniature figurines can add depth and storytelling to your miniature landscape.

Bookbinding Repair: Giving New Life to Cherished Stories

Bookbinding repair, more than just a practical skill, is an art form that allows you to preserve cherished stories and breathe new life into aged volumes. Whether it's a well-loved childhood book with loose pages or a vintage treasure with a cracked spine, here's your guide to becoming a bookbinding repair artist:
Assessing the Damage:

• Identify the issue: Is it loose pages, a torn cover, a broken hinge, or something else? Each requires different approaches.
• Evaluate the materials: Consider the book's age, binding style, and paper quality to determine appropriate repair methods and materials.

Basic Repairs:

• Loose Pages: Apply a thin layer of acid-free PVA glue to the spine edge of the page using a brush or toothpick. Reattach carefully and press flat under weight until dry.
• Torn Pages: Use thin mending tissue and PVA glue to bridge the tear from the back of the page. Overlap the tissue slightly beyond the tear for stability.
• Cracked Spine: Reinforce the spine with archival mending tape applied along the inside. For larger tears, consider resewing the signatures (sections of pages).

Intermediate Repairs:

• Broken Hinges: Carefully detach the cover, preserving any endpapers attached. Apply glue to the hinge area of both cover and text block. Reattach and clamp until dry.
• Damaged Covers: Depending on the damage, you can clean, re-glue, or replace the cover material. For fabric covers, consider using fabric bookbinding tape for repairs.

Advanced Repairs:

• Missing Pages: If pages are completely missing, consult a professional bookbinder for paper matching and reintegration.
• Extensive Damage: For severely damaged books, consider seeking professional restoration services to ensure proper conservation and longevity.

Essential Tools and Materials:

• Acid-free PVA glue or bookbinding adhesive
• Archival mending tissue
• Bone folder for smoothing and creasing
• Craft knife or scalpel (use with caution)
• Ruler and straight edge
• Clamps or weights
• Brushes or applicators
• Fabric bookbinding tape (optional)

Tips and Resources:

• Start small: Practice on less valuable books before tackling prized possessions.
• Work in a clean, well-lit area.
• Use archival-quality materials to prevent further damage.
• Take your time and be meticulous.
• Don't hesitate to seek professional help for complex repairs.

Books and Websites:

• "In-House Bookbinding and Repair" by Sharon McQueen and James Twomey
• "Book Repair Made Easy" by Aldis Browne
• American Library Association's Guide to Book Repair: [[invalid URL removed]]([invalid URL removed])
• Library of Congress Preservation Directorate: [[invalid URL removed]]([invalid URL removed])

Remember, bookbinding repair is a journey of learning and patience. As you delve into this rewarding craft, you'll not only preserve books but also connect with history, stories, and the magic of the written word.

The Art of Calligraphy: Where Penmanship Meets Creativity

Calligraphy, the art of beautiful handwriting, transcends practicality and becomes a mesmerizing dance of pen and ink. Whether you seek graceful lettering for invitations or artistic expression through personalized quotes, here's your guide to embark on this captivating journey:
Choosing Your Script:

• Start with a beginner-friendly script: Italic, Gothic, or foundational script offer good starting points with basic letterforms and manageable flourishes.
• Explore different styles: As you progress, delve into more intricate scripts like Copperplate, Uncial, or even Arabic calligraphy, each with its unique character.

Tools and Materials:

• Nibs: Select a nib based on the script and desired line thickness. Start with a medium-flex nib for versatility.
• Pen holder: Choose a comfortable holder that accommodates your chosen nib.
• Ink: Opt for high-quality calligraphy ink for smooth flow and vibrant colors. Experiment with different colors and inks with metallic sheen.
• Paper: Use smooth, absorbent paper specifically designed for calligraphy. Practice sheets are ideal for beginners.

Learning the Basics:

• Posture and grip: Maintain good posture and a relaxed grip on the pen for optimal control.
• Basic strokes: Master fundamental strokes like upstrokes, downstrokes, and curves, forming the building blocks of letters.
• Letter formation: Practice forming each letter of your chosen script, paying attention to proportions, spacing, and consistency.

Sharpening Your Skills:

• Practice exercises: Regularly do drills and exercises to improve muscle memory and develop fluency.
• Join workshops or online courses: Seek guidance from experienced calligraphers to refine your technique and learn new skills.
• Experiment with composition: Explore layout options, letter spacing, and flourishes to create visually appealing compositions.

Beyond the Basics:

• Flourishes and embellishments: Once comfortable with basic letterforms, add flourishes and decorative elements to personalize your calligraphy.
• Gilding and illumination: Explore advanced techniques like gilding with metallic foil or adding illuminated details for an extra touch of grandeur.
• Modern calligraphy: Embrace contemporary lettering styles with brush pens or markers, incorporating modern design elements.

Inspiration and Resources:

• Websites: International Association of Calligraphers: [invalid URL calligraphy society ON International Association of Calligraphers calligraphy.org], The Calligrapher's Guild:, Learn Calligraphy: [invalid URL learncalligraphy.com ON Learn Calligraphy]
• Books: "Mastering the Art of Calligraphy" by Patricia Lovett-Cooper, "The Calligrapher's Bible" by Heather Victoria Cole, "Modern Calligraphy" by Molly Hatch
• YouTube Channels: The Happy Ever After, The Postman's Knock, Calligraphy with Jennifer

Remember, calligraphy is a journey of continuous learning and self-expression. Embrace the joy of practice, celebrate your progress, and let your creativity flow through the graceful curves and flourishes of your penmanship.

Candlemaking: Illuminating Creativity with Wax and Fragrance

Candlemaking offers a rewarding blend of craft and science, allowing you to create beautiful and personalized candles for yourself, gifts, or home décor. Here's your guide to embark on this illuminating journey:
Choosing Your Wax:

• Soy wax: Popular for its clean burn, natural ingredients, and variety of fragrances.
• Beeswax: Eco-friendly, burns golden with a honey scent, but limited fragrance options.
• Paraffin wax: Most affordable, but can have a stronger petroleum scent and be less eco-friendly.
• Coconut wax: Burns clean and cool, but harder to find and requires specific additives.

Gathering Supplies:

• Melting pot: Double boiler or electric melter for safe wax heating.
• Thermometer: Monitor wax temperature accurately for optimal pouring.
• Wicks: Choose the right size and type for your wax and container.
• Fragrance oil: Opt for high-quality, skin-safe oils designed for candles.
• Candle dyes (optional): Add color to your candles with caution to avoid affecting burn quality.
• Pouring pitcher: Makes transferring hot wax easier and safer.
• Heat-resistant containers: Jars, tins, or molds suitable for candle use.
• Decorative elements (optional): Dried flowers, herbs, or essential oils for personalization.

The Candlemaking Process:

1. Melt the wax: Follow safety instructions and heat wax to the appropriate temperature for your chosen wax type.
2. Add fragrance and dye (optional): Mix carefully, following recommended usage rates to avoid scent throw issues or discoloration.
3. Attach the wick: Secure the wick to the bottom of the container with a wick sticker or hot glue.
4. Pour the wax: Slowly and carefully pour the wax into the container, leaving space at the top for cooling.
5. Center the wick: Gently adjust the wick if needed to ensure it stays centered during cooling.
6. Cooling and setting: Allow the candle to cool completely and solidify without disturbing it.
7. Trimming the wick: Once set, trim the wick to ¼ inch for a clean and safe burn.

Crafting Tips:

• Start small: Begin with simple container candles before trying more complex molds.
• Safety first: Always follow proper handling and heating procedures for wax and fragrance oils.
• Work in a well-ventilated area.
• Experiment with different scents and colors.
• Label your candles: Include ingredients, fragrance details, and burn instructions for gifting or safety.

Resources and Inspiration:

• Websites: CandleScience [invalid URL candlescience com], The Nerdy Farm [invalid URL candle making supply nerdy farm ON [invalid URL removed]], Bramble Berry [invalid URL www brambleberry com]
• Books: "The Complete Joy of Candlemaking" by Abigail Righter, "Candlemaking Mastery" by Erin Prager, "Handmade Soap & Candlemaking 101" by Anne-Marie Failla
• YouTube Channels: Bramble Berry Candle Making, Soap Queen, DIY Candle Making with Sadie

Remember, candlemaking is a creative journey filled with experimentation and learning. Embrace the process, enjoy the beautiful scents, and let your light shine through your handcrafted creations!

Chair Caning: Weaving a Seat of Art and Function

Chair caning, the art of weaving cane webbing onto chair frames, combines practicality with artistic expression. It's a rewarding craft that allows you to restore vintage chairs or create unique pieces, breathing new life into furniture and honing your skills. Here's a guide to get you started:
Choosing Your Cane:

• Material: Natural cane (rattan) is traditional, but synthetic options like PVC or fiber offer durability and moisture resistance.
• Diameter: Thicker cane provides a sturdier seat, while thinner cane creates a more delicate look.
• Pre-cut or skeins: Pre-cut lengths are easier for beginners, while skeins offer more flexibility for complex patterns.

Tools and Supplies:

• Webbing needle: A long, thin needle with a large eye for weaving the cane.
• Awl: Creates holes in the chair frame for the cane to pass through.
• Pliers: Used for cutting and bending cane, and tightening knots.
• Scissors: Sharp scissors for trimming cane.
• Sandpaper: Smooths rough edges of the cane and chair frame.
• Tack cloth: Removes dust and debris before applying glue.
• Chair frame: Choose a sturdy frame with existing holes or predrill them for even spacing.
• Cane adhesive: Choose a water-resistant glue specifically designed for cane.
• Tacking strips (optional): Provide additional support for the cane edges.

The Caning Process:

1. Prepare the frame: Ensure the frame is clean, sanded, and free of debris.
2. Mark the holes: Use a template or ruler to mark evenly spaced holes for the cane to pass through.
3. Start weaving: Begin at the outside edge, threading the cane through the holes and securing it with a knot.
4. Continue weaving: Follow a specific pattern, ensuring the cane goes under and over the frame's rails and uprights.
5. Tighten and secure: Use pliers to tighten the cane as you weave, and secure the ends with knots or tacking strips.
6. Trim and finish: Trim any excess cane and apply glue to the edges for a neat finish.
7. Let it dry: Allow the glue to dry completely before using the chair.

Tips and Tricks:

• Start with a simple pattern: Beginner-friendly patterns like "square" or "herringbone" are good starting points.
• Practice on scrap wood: Hone your skills before tackling a valuable chair.
• Use clear instructions and diagrams: Numerous online resources and books offer detailed guidance.
• Work in a well-lit area with good ventilation.
• Don't be afraid to experiment: Once comfortable, explore more intricate patterns and decorative borders.

Resources and Inspiration:

• Websites: [invalid URL caning chairs ON [invalid URL removed]], [invalid URL seatweaving com], [invalid URL the chair caner ON thechaircaner.com]
• Books: "The Complete Guide to Chair Caning" by John Krall, "Chair Caning Basics" by Barbara J. Kreit, "The Art of Chair Caning" by Pauline H. Innis
• YouTube Channels: The Chair Caner, Caning Chairs with Mike, Heritage Repair

Remember, chair caning is a journey of learning and patience. Embrace the process, enjoy the satisfaction of restoring a piece of furniture, and let your creativity weave its way into your craft!
The holidays are a magical time, and creating your own Christmas ornaments adds a personal touch to your decorations and traditions. Here's a comprehensive guide to get you started on your festive crafting journey:
Choosing Your Project:

• Difficulty level: Consider your crafting experience and desired complexity. Start with beginner-friendly options like salt dough ornaments or fabric scraps, and progress to more intricate techniques like woodworking or stained glass.
• Materials and tools: Select materials readily available around the house or easily sourced from craft stores. Consider using recycled materials for an eco-friendly twist. Gather appropriate tools based on your chosen project.
• Style and theme: Let your personality shine through! Opt for classic and traditional designs, whimsical characters, or modern minimalist styles. Coordinate your ornaments with your overall holiday décor theme.

Popular Techniques:

• Salt dough ornaments: Mix flour, salt, and water to create a dough, shape it into festive figures, bake and decorate with paint, glitter, or fabric scraps.
• Paper ornaments: Use construction paper, origami techniques, or quilling to create snowflakes, stars, trees, or even miniature gift boxes.
• Felt ornaments: Cut out shapes from felt fabric, sew them together with colorful embroidery floss, and embellish with buttons, beads, or sequins.
• Pinecone ornaments: Decorate pinecones with paint, glitter, glue-on embellishments, or natural elements like berries and twigs.
• Clay ornaments: Use air-dry clay, polymer clay, or even cookie dough (baked and glazed) to mold ornaments like snowmen, gingerbread houses, or personalized initials.
• Upcycled ornaments: Repurpose old materials like bottle caps, CDs, wine corks, or even light bulbs into unique ornaments with paint, markers, or mosaic techniques.

Tips and Tricks:

• Plan ahead: Gather materials and tools beforehand to avoid last-minute scrambling.
• Work in a clean and organized space.
• Enlist the help of family and friends: Crafting together can be a fun and bonding experience.
• Supervise children appropriately for safety with tools and materials.
• Don't be afraid to experiment: Get creative and personalize your ornaments!
• Seal your ornaments: Apply a varnish or sealant for durability and added shine.
• Attach hanging loops: Use twine, ribbon, or ornament hooks before storing or displaying your creations.

Inspiration and Resources:

• Websites: Pinterest, The Spruce Crafts, Martha Stewart, HGTV Handmade
• Books: "Christmas Crafts for Kids" by Amanda Formaro, "The Complete Joy of Making Christmas Ornaments" by Heather Mandarano, "500 Christmas Ornaments to Make" by Leisure Arts
• YouTube Channels: DIY Crafts by Nicole, The Craft Shack, Lia Griffith

Remember, creating Christmas ornaments is about the joy of the process and expressing your holiday spirit. Embrace the magic, have fun crafting, and cherish the memories you create with your handmade decorations!

(The dude) In the vast canvas of space, The Dude was smoothly navigating his magical 1973 Ford Gran Torino along the cosmic highways. Stars and galaxies painted a backdrop of surreal beauty as he glided through the universe. The car, a blend of earthly nostalgia and potent enchantments, hummed with the rhythm of the cosmos. As The Dude reached for his ashtray, a simple yet essential accessory in his interstellar journeys, he was expecting to find the usual remnants of his mystical smoking sessions. However, what he discovered inside the ashtray was far from ordinary.
To his astonishment, nestled within the confines of the ashtray was a tiny, thriving civilization of magical beings. The ashes and remnants of various magical herbs and cosmic substances had, over time, created an environment where these minuscule creatures had evolved and flourished. Each speck of ash and fragment of mystical substance had contributed to this microcosm, giving rise to a variety of tiny inhabitants. There were minute wizards wielding toothpick wands, elfin creatures with wings made of cigarette paper, and even diminutive dragons curling through the rising smoke. The Dude, amazed by this unexpected discovery, leaned in closer. The beings, sensing his gigantic presence, looked up in awe and trepidation. He could see tiny cities constructed from matchsticks and paper, with minuscule lights flickering like their own little stars.
Realizing the significance of his find, The Dude knew he had stumbled upon something extraordinary. This ashtray civilization, born from the ashes of his magical escapades, was a testament to the unpredictable and wondrous nature of the universe.With a sense of responsibility towards these tiny beings and their burgeoning society, The Dude pondered his next move. He knew he had to protect and preserve this microcosmic world that had inadvertently sprung from his cosmic wanderings.
As he contemplated, the small wizards and creatures gathered to discuss the appearance of their colossal discoverer, unaware of the grand adventures and cosmic paths that had led to their creation. In the vast expanse of space, within the confines of an ashtray in a 1973 Ford Gran Torino, a new chapter of magic and wonder had just begun.
(Ashtray word) Within the confines of the mystical ashtray, a world had evolved, a tiny civilization born from the remnants of The Dude's magical escapades. Here, among the matchstick buildings and paper-winged creatures, there existed a society of minuscule beings who had never known a world beyond the ashtray's metallic walls. Among them was Elrid, a wizard of small stature but immense courage and wisdom. Elrid, with his cloak fashioned from a scrap of cigarette filter and a wand carved from a sliver of matchstick, was considered the hero of this tiny realm. His knowledge of the magic that had birthed their civilization made him a respected and revered figure among the ashtray inhabitants.
The sudden appearance of The Dude, a colossal figure peering into their world, had sent ripples of fear and wonder throughout the community. Elrid, standing atop a mound of ash, gazed up at the giant with a mixture of awe and determination. He knew that the survival of his people might depend on the actions of this enormous being. Gathering the elders and leaders of the various miniature races, Elrid convened a council. They met in the shadow of a burnt-out joint, now a monolithic structure in their world. The tiny dragons, their scales shimmering with residual magic, fluttered above, while the elfin creatures perched on the edges of matchbox buildings.
Elrid addressed the assembly with a clear, commanding voice. "Great beings of the Ashtray Realm, we face an unprecedented situation. The giant who gazes upon us is the creator of our world, though he knows it not. We must decide how to approach him – whether to hide in the shadows of our world or to reach out and make our presence known." The council was divided. Some feared the repercussions of revealing themselves to such a powerful entity, while others saw an opportunity to explore beyond the ashtray, to learn about the vast universe that lay beyond their small world.
As they debated, Elrid pondered the possibilities. He knew that their existence, so delicately balanced on the remnants of The Dude's magical indulgences, was fragile. Yet, he also felt a pull towards the unknown, a desire to understand the broader cosmos of which they were an infinitesimal part. Finally, after much discussion, it was decided that Elrid would be the one to attempt communication with The Dude. Using his magic, he would project a message, a plea for understanding and recognition.
Standing at the edge of the ashtray, Elrid began his incantation. The tiny wizards, elfin creatures, and dragons watched in silence, their fate hanging in the balance. A beam of light emanated from Elrid's wand, reaching up towards The Dude, carrying with it the hopes and fears of an entire civilization hidden within an ashtray. In this small world, where magic and survival intertwined, Elrid the wizard stood as a beacon of bravery and exploration, ready to bridge the gap between his people and the colossal stranger who held their world in his hand.

(note: this is pretty blunt and I do use the f-slur at one point- for context I am sapphic)
​
Trans-Punk
Thin as a toothpick
Right size for a corset
Hair, balls, and small dick
Not like she needs it
​
She feels her own frame
It’s under her name
Shaped like a woman
But subject to blame
​
A weirdo that’s nerdy
Comfy long jackets
Gay, gaunt, and wordy
Not that kind of faggot
​
She feels for her flame
Who calls her by name
Not the pre-birth bad guess
But the one with good aim
​
She can’t really blame them
They thought that they knew
If anyone saw her
They thought they did too
​
She looked in the mirror
Before it was clearer
He looked back for a while
Til freedom grew nearer
​
A hard-working student
Procrastinate, lie
Earnest and prudent
She’s just a nice guy
​
A collection of masks
Who struggles with tasks
To mistake her for honest
Would be worth an ask
​
Give to society
It won’t give what it stole
Just build a career
And pay with your soul
​
Make good impressions
Learn those life lessons
Follow the path
Of internal regression
​
But she can’t live a lie
She won’t take what she’s given
Provoke and defy
That’s the life that she’s living
​
She’s not yours to make of
Not dolled up in makeup
She wears it to feel good
And to prove she’s unshaken
​
Not shaken by pronouns
Or Xs and Ys
Her own flesh and body
Is just a disguise
​
She prunes and reuses
Reshapes and abuses
That gift from her God
Which was practically useless
​
She makes her own flesh
Carves woman from man
Not like a goddess
But to prove that she can
​
She can.
​
She can and she will.
​
She’ll defy and surprise and battle uphill,
Burn bridges, burn pasts, cut hair, and cut ties
And she’s not deprived, no, she feels alive
​
She wins at her game
She lives without shame
When “trans” is your prefix
Change is your name
​

Hello everyone! I am currently a Grade 12 STEM student in the Philippines. We are tasked with making a toothpick bridge, which is obviously made of toothpicks. We were limited to using four types of paste: contact cement, white glue, super glue, and epoxy. We chose to use wood glue, which can be considered a white glue (??). Anyway, we told our professor about it, and it does not matter, he said. When we try to add some weight to the deck bridge, since it is the only part that was finished, it is slightly bent, especially when we weigh 1 kg of rice. Is that a good sign or not? I wish there would be a response since we really don't know what the meaning of its slight bending is. Additionally, we do not have any background on structure, so I am hoping you all can help me. Thank you!

Here is a small Honorverse fiction I wrote as a lead-in for the upcoming event "Operation War Harvest" on https://www.battleforhonor.de/
It deals with discoveries which will later have an implication for the setting of "War Harvest". All the people and entities are my own OC. The Honorverse belongs to David Weber.
​
The cargo boat
“There’s a ship powering up their nodes! There should be no ship…. I had no transponder there… this is… not good!”
The fast cargo hauler RSS Marie Celeste was making slow and lazy in the unnamed system, taking one more navigation break before their final leg to their home system of Solan. On one hand it was a typical mid sized cargo ship, nothing special about it from the outside. But inside, the Arianna Cargo Company had seen to fit their ships with a very capable drive that allowed her to go much faster than most competitors. Such expensive tech packages were sometimes sponsored by the Royal Solan Space Navy, along with very elaborate sensor suits, making the ships effective scouts who could be pressed into service should the need arise. The cargo company paid partly with sensor data and mapping of systems for the navy, while still benefiting from the high hyperbands they could reach.
Unfortunately, the navy did not sponsor any noteworthy armament. So any unexpected ship appearing in what should be an empty system was cause for alarm. Piracy was rampant in these parts, especially now in the aftermath of the Haven-Manticoran war. A lot of loose ends were looking to cause trouble.
“And a second one! They are big!” Roger Wiltman usually loved playing with his elaborate sensors, but not so much today, not when the nav technician was looking at two military grade wedges coming up in orbit of the - supposedly uninhabited and unnamed - planet they were just passing.
“Then fer gawd’s sake, call the skipper, will ya?”, Cruze Esposito, the helmswoman, called over her shoulder with an annoyed tone. Her teeth wouldn’t really open because she was chewing a pick. She grunted and took her feet off the side console, sitting up in her pilot chair, doing a brief, yet lazy check of the status board. All green, save one. She gave the amber indicator a gentle pat with her hand and it switched to green.
“There you go, buddy”, she murmured, rolling her toothpick to the other corner of her mouth.
Things would become hotter if this turned out to be what she suspected. Not that she appeared as nervous as any regular cargo jockey rightfully should be when a bunch of wedges lit up out of nowhere.
-
Captain Maurice Wenzel was in his cabin, just about to undo his trousers to lie down, when the speaker beeped.
“Skipper, we have two wedges out of the blue around that rock we just passed. Big ones too, no challenge, no transponder, nothing.”
Wenzel thought there was a nervous undertone in Wiltman’s voice but it could be the lousy quality of the speakers. Everyone sounded a bit whiny. He briefly wondered if he also did. He pressed the com touchpad.
“I’ll be up in a second. Do nothing, just watch.” Of course everyone knew that, but he had to say it nonetheless. He zipped up his trousers again and briefly looked into the mirror. There was no need to rush, in space things moved slowly. Until they suddenly didn’t anymore.
He had gray hair, which bordered white by now. He was a prolonged recipient so he was supposed to not look his age but somehow the genes had not paid enough attention when it had come to his hair. The rest looked decent enough for a cargo skipper in the fringes. Some might say decidedly above average. He brushed a hand over his stubble. No time for that, he had said he would be on the bridge and shaving could wait. Nobody would care about that. Wentel ran his fingers through his hair once and with sigh grabbed his white captain’s hat . Then he stepped through the hatch into the corridor.
-
“What do we have…” Wenzel murmured more to himself, as he dropped into his command chair and mirrored the nav display to his own station. He frowned. He held a naval reserve commission, as all of ACC’s captains did, and he knew what he saw was trouble. Two DD sized ships powering up and giving no challenge. That could only mean one thing: serious pirates.
“I see it”, he said louder but in a decidedly calm tone. “But they don’t know we can see them yet.” Of course all the pirates saw was a fat freighter, who might be able to see a hand in front of her face on a clear day with her low grade standard sensors. Prey, waiting to be sprung upon.
“Engine, stand by acceleration.” Wenzel ordered in a routine voice over the open intercom. “Helm, I need a get-away plot, assuming our friends can do …” he hesitated. “... say 350. Shave it close. We have an image to uphold.”
Here was his gamble. Pirates usually did not put too much stress on their nodes and often had trouble keeping them in military shape anyway. Marie Celeste could pull almost military acceleration if he pushed it. In any case he would be much faster than he should be or any pirate might expect.
“Aye, skipper.” came the reply from Esposito, the woman with the short cropped black hair and the red bandana already typing away to make the computer calculate their fast exit. Wenzel could practically see her grin even though he was looking at the back of her head, and that half hidden by her chair. This wasn’t their first rodeo together and he knew she loved this part.
Wiltman nervously reported more data now.
“Skip, they are breaking orbit, the computer makes them about Chanson size or something similar, but with a few oddities. That’s quite the heavies for pirates… Accel is 290!”
It was, but one could find stranger things these days, now that the whole StateSec navy was broken up and probably more of their hardware in the winds than the Haven government admitted. Anyway, those guys were taking it slow and lazy, no unnecessary stress on their equipment. That freighter would be going nowhere now, would it?
“Helm?” He asked at the back of Esposito’s head.
“Almost there. We need to pull 300 even, Sending the plot… now.”
Wenzel looked at the data. It was indeed close and he would have to show a big hand with such an acceleration. But they would make hyper limit and jump just eight minutes short of being inside the hypothetical missile range. Pirates hated using expensive missiles, they rather wanted to board and take over ships after all, but in some cases it was better to just avoid survivors and witnesses….
“Skip, there’s a third one! Nodes leveling on standby, not moving.” Wiltman had turned around, eyes a bit wide. It was only the third tour for the young technician and he had only seen pirates from very afar until today. Or in holovids perhaps.
Wenzel smiled and nodded. “Looks like we found us a whole rats nest. Good job. Sort, tag and record, while they are getting smaller in our rear mirror.” In truth, the gamble to shave it close was relying on his initial estimate of how badly the pirates wanted to get them. The Marie Celeste could only accelerate so fast. But when he appeared calm, his crew was calm. He sighed, kicking his chair back a notch and putting his boots on the edge of the console.
“Engine, stand by for accel three hundred in twenty. We have twenty minutes before we officially can see them. Go grab a snack, but be back for the main feature.”
-
Twenty one minutes later, the Marie Celeste was lurching through space towards the hyper limit at 300 gravities. The pirates were falling behind, stunned by what had just happened, but apparently they were willing to shave some hours off their nodes to prevent that freighter’s escape. At 380 gravities, they were soon catching up again and Wenzel was very, very tempted to show his full hand when the timer for their escape window closed to seven, six and five minutes.
But he didn’t flinch and just when the timer was one minute, he could see the flash of one destroyer’s chaser tube firing a missile. They are really doing it, one must savor the sight, he thought, just when the speaker announced “All hands. Translation imminent. All hands:”
Chief Silvestere’s voice was calm and raspy, coming from the depths of the ship’s engine room. It did not sound whiny, Wenzel noted.
“Whooo - hooo!” went Esposito and laughed almost hysterically. It really was a rodeo for her.
Wiltman started to breathe again, once the ship had fully translated. His face was flushed and he chuckled a bit hysterically as the tension relaxed. His data was safe in the box.
Wenzel just smiled, when the Marie Celeste slid across the alpha wall and into the safety of hyper. The pirate missile was rushing through empty space and into nothingness soon after.
Sorry, couldn’t stay for breakfast, he thought. He had a debriefing to attend to, and the Royal Solan Space Navy would be most interested in his sensor data. His crew would be most interested in the resulting bonus payment…
​

so i was changing my guitar strings but the string ball is stuck, so i used a toothpick to push it but the toothpick broke and now i cant get it out. How do i get it out? its a yamaha pacifica 112v