James and the ducks

I remember that night like it was yesterday, even though I was a boy then and now I'm real old.

I remember that crazy man banging and hollering at the farmhouse door. I remember pa telling me and ma "Git upstairs!" and we went, sure, but I didn't go far. I sat on the top step, and I saw my pa get his shotgun and shout through the door. "Who's there?" he shouted, trying to sound scary. "Larry!" was the shout from outside, and pa pointed the gun at the floor and opened the door.

Larry was the Sterlings' youngest. Mr and Mrs Sterling owned the next farm over, up against the foothills. Big property, but tough land to farm, and they was getting old. All their boys had gone - to the city, or those big cattle ranches over in the plains - but Larry stayed. When he weren't around, people would joke he was soft in the head, "born idjit" they said. Nobody said that stuff to his face, though. No fear or nothing, just that Larry was too friendly and cheery to be mean to.

No cheer that night, of course. Larry seemed like he'd gone crazy, eyes bugged out and hair messed and tangled like a tumbleweed. I knew he weren't too many years older than me, not shaving just yet, though looking like he'd need to soon. When he crashed into our front hall
that night, though, he looked older than his own pa. White, his face was. I remember thinking I never saw a face so white.

He stumbled over to pa, grabbed him, bear hug like, and they both went half down, kinda half sitting and half kneeling. I thought for a second that Larry was attacking pa and I was getting set to pelt down those stairs and drag him off, forgetting of course that Larry was twice my size.

But then his foot kicked back, slammed the door with his foot. After the mighty bang of it slamming, everything was still and silent for what felt like a long time. There was only one noise, a kind of bubbling and whistling. Took a minute, but I worked out it was Larry crying. He held my pa like a baby clings to its ma, and he cried into his chest.

Was weird, seeing a near grown man cry like that. I could see pa was out of his depth, too. His hands was up in the air and his face was all confusion and shock, like a man who cracks an egg into a frying pan and finds a goldfish inside. "What's goin' on, Larry?" His voice was gentle - he remembered who he was talking to - but there was a lot of worry in it. "Huh? Your folks okay?"

Larry stopped crying and pushed back, fast. His foot slipped out from under him and he plopped down on his ass. Would've been funny if I weren't so scared.

"Ma and pa..." Larry started, then stared. He tried again. "Ma and pa, they're dead."

"Dead? How Larry? Tell me." The gentleness had gone out of pa's voice - it was like a stone now.

"Ducks," he said. "The ducks did it."


Stay tuned next week for part two of Beyond the Valley of the Ducks!

James and cheese

James:
Dates are Rebecca's kryptonite. If you follow her around shouting out random dates she eventually regresses to her demon form.

At that point you then stick mini-marshmallows up both her nostrils to place her under your control.

Once under control, she can grant wishes, but only if they involve cheese. The cheese can be peripheral or trivial, but it has to be there. Ask her for a billion dollars and she can't help you. Ask her for a billion dollars and a slice of processed cheese and she can do that.

One needs to be crafty when dealing with cheese demons.

*twitch*

Sorry, where was I?

Scott:
Have you been smoking carpet samples again?

James:
No, but that's an excellent suggestion.
*runs off to mug a door-to-door carpet salesman*

Michelle:
are cheese demons related to cheese weasles?

James:
Distantly. Alongside Darwin's tree of life is a loosely parallel evolutionary path called the Tree of Cheese.

Scott:
Its fascinating reading. I was always in love with the cheesosaurs when I was kid, my favourites being fromagiosaurus and goudasaurus rex.

James:
More recently we have extinct megafauna such as the camembear.

Michelle:
and don't forget the edamites - hard wax casings have been found to prove they pre-dated the cheesosaurs

James comments on fantasy authors

Scott:
"What do you mean its the same story? The names are clearly different!"
"Yes, about that. You don't think David and Bavid are somewhat similar?"

James:
"You know how Jerik slays Zord with the Blade of Kell at the end ofthe first book?"
"Yes, it's a fantasy classic..."
"...and Derek slays Zedd with the Blade of Krul at the end of the second book..."
"It's a deliberate foreshadowing! History repeats itself and heroes find themselves thrust into the same roles as their ancestors, the blood of mortal enemies flowing down through centuries and sustaining age-old battles!"
"I see. And in book three..."
"Book three is totally different! It's a female protagonist!"
"Yes... called Jerra, who slays Zood with the Blade of Khaal-"
"Hammer of Khaal, damn it! It was the HAMMER of Khaal!"
"Oh, I'm sorry. That's completely different then."

James writes constitutional amendments

Rebecca:
stop making me laugh you bastard

James:
Oops.

Sorry.

Rebecca:
are you sure?

James:
*correlates ledgers*

*publishes profit and loss statements*

Rebecca:
strange boy

James:
I'm being an accountant!!!!

*accounts*

*accounts some more*

Rebecca:
don't, I might not love you any more

James:
*accounts head off*

*accounts like the wind*

You don't love me when I account?

Rebecca:
urm... I take the fifth

James:
What's wrong with the fourth?

Everyone always ignores the fourth.

...and the third, for that matter.

The third is a prick, though, and a really mean drunk.

The fourth is awesome, though, and I feel it doesn't get the recognition it deserves,

Rebecca:
I don't even know what they all are!

James:
Urm...

The first is the right to put a gerbil in a toaster...

The second is the right for gerbils not to be put in toasters.

The third is something to do with gerbils having the right to carry concealed weapons in case someone tries to put them in a toaster.

The fourth is a constitutional recognition of the right of all citizens to sing in the shower.

Of course, felons are not entitled to the protection of law, so prison showers have strict no-singing policies.

Many refugees flee to America from nations in which shower singing is not protected by law, and even actively prosecuted.

Rebecca:
...right

James:
It's true! Ask Nadia!

...and if she says no, ignore her.

If she says yes, though, then she's obviously smart and knowledgeable like me.

Rebecca:
She also pleads the 5th

James:
I don't know what the right to glue polka dots on a llama has to do with anything.

Rebecca:
She's away gluing polka dots on llamas, she's unable to help

James:
Actually, I can see why so many people plead the fifth.

Polka dotted llamas are awesome.

James has uneven coolness

Rebecca:
Oh I know, I just being provocative

I a provocateur after all

James:
No!

You?

NO!

Surely not?

Rebecca:
is true

James:
Provocative?

Never.

Can't be.

Couldn't happen.

Rebecca:
snooty pants

James:
smeggly socks

Rebecca:
rasta bum

James:
*boggle*

My bum has dreadlocks and smokes weed while listening to reggae???

Damn, my bum is far cooler than the rest of me.

I have unevenly distributed coolness. I hate that.

James does not has a memory

James:
I knows stuff.
I have a brain full of stuff.
It's so full of stuff that stuff is constantly trickling out of it.

Mystery:
yeah...
like a sieve ;P

James:
Something like that.
Just remember that the unimportant water is allowed to trickle away
while the important spaghetti is kept.
"Spaghetti" in this case representing Doctor Who trivia and Beatles lyrics.
....and water being my friends' birthdays.

James is lyrical

Scott:
Wasn't that a Deborah Conway song, "today i'm a zombie"?

James:
Today I am a zombie, but tomorrow
I could be a ghoul or ghast...
*plays guitar*
Cavorting among the graves...

[sung to Deborah Conway's song "Today I am a Daisy"]