Month: September 2019

Would You Like to Try Again?

The Powers That Be have realized their mistake with regard to the jury summons the human female received. I’m sure that when someone pointed out their goof they were properly horrified. No one wants the human female to show up anywhere in her pajamas and slippers to sit in sleepy judgment on various and assorted miscreants.

Thus, at my instigation, they have sent out corrected summonses.

summons2

Tuesdav? Well done, court minion. Well done.

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You MUST Comply–It’s a LEGAL DOCUMENT

Mail has been rather sporadic lately.  Sometimes I just tell the carrier they can take a day off.  No one really needs their mail-order medicines or the latest quilt fabric catalog, do they?

The other day, though, I arranged for something a little more dramatic.

squashed po

Usually Smashes Parcels Significantly swears that the collapse of a sorting facility in the Big City to the South “won’t affect mail deliveries at all.”

If you believe that, I’ve some lovely acreage in Muspelheim you might be interested in.

Still, perhaps they are telling the truth (for once), because this managed to arrive for the human female:

jury summons

Isn’t that hilarious?!  Sometimes I make myself laugh!  Remember, mortal, it’s a legal document!  You have to report exactly where–and when!–they say, or you’ll be in big, expensive trouble!

And I know what you’re thinking.  If you show up in your pajamas and slippers, they’ll fine you two hundred dollars!

Ehehehehe!  Let’s see you wriggle out of this one.

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It’s About Time.

A BHI  (Big, Heavy Item) arrived in the stockroom for the human yesterday, but it was raining, so she and her staff waited a bit.  And then the stockroom was closed, so it’s not today until someone can go fetch it and cart it over here.

Great Frigga’s Corset!  It’s the long-lost centrifuge!  It was not delivered by F&THS, whose paperwork carries the delightful slogan.

expeditors

(The human female was surprised, because apparently they only go as far as the Big city to the South)

Nor was it delivered by Yeah, Right, Ciao, but by a third, apparently more reliable, shipper.

Here it is, out of its protective swaddlings.  It’s ENORMOUS!  And so terribly clean!

centrifuge1

Yeah, that won’t last.

Let’s plug it in!   Odin’s eyepatch!  Look at that slick display!

centrifuge3

Speed, timer, and a bunch of other things.  Hmmm.  This looks complicated. I’m not sure the human female should go anywhere near it…

The inside is clearly set up for some good, fast, fun!

centrifuge2

Come, on Sorvall!  Let’s go for a spin!

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P.S.  Sigyn, here.  You know what the best part about this shipment is?  It’s the return address for the vendor:

englishmuffin

Is that not the cutest address ever?  I’d love to live on a street with a cute name like that!  I think I’ll ask the humans if we can move…

: )

 

 

 

A Capsicum With A Secret

The human female bought a pepper yesterday, to slice up and eat with the beany glop known as “hummus.”  Apparently “hummus” is what it’s called in its native country.  And here I always thought it was called that because that’s the coughy-gaggy noise you make when you’re trying to get the taste of chickpeas and sesame out of your mouth afterwards.

So now she’s going to cut up the pepper.  WAIT!  Sigyn, did you hear that?  That pepper rattled!

mutant-pepper1

Ehehehe!  The human female is looking at her pepper with grave distrust and then at me and then back to the pepper.  What?  You think I did something to it?  Put a little surprise inside?  Maaaaybe I did… Maybe there’s a great big bug in there?  Wouldn’t that be funny!

Go ahead.  Open ‘er up.  If you dare.

By Idunns’ little apples!  It’s inhabited!

mutant-pepper2

The golden orange pepper has spawned a twisted little yellow and green pepper!

I did not know they could do that.

Hey!  What if it’s like those Russian nesting dolls?   Maybe there’s a smaller pepper inside the little pepper.  Keep slicing, human, and let’s get to the bottom of this!

mutant-pepper3

Sadly empty.  I feel so cheated.

But it does give me some ideas for a few nifty vegetable-based pranks….

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It’s All Sorts of Untrustworthy Up In Here

Sigyn and I have accompanied the mortals on their weekly grocery run.  While they peruse the canned goods and debate the merits of one brand of toothpaste over another, my beloved and I are free to look around at the things that are not groceries.

Sigyn is quite charmed by these succulents in the home goods aisle. Succulents are all the rage these days.

kroger-cacti

Yes, my love, they are quite pretty.  And colorful, too, yes.  And most assuredly easy to care for.  Oh, you think we should get some, as the Terror Twins might be less likely to gnaw on these than on the other houseplants?  I suspect you are correct.  Because they are plastic.

Speaking of felines…  There is a portly, overly-cheerful one and its equally smiley kin in the new little tea cafe near the front of the store.

kroger-cat

I rarely trust cats, and I can tell this crew is up to something.  No one smiles this much unless they are Up To Something.  I should know.

(Hey, Sigyn, how is a beckoning lucky cat statue like a flat, round, tasteless candy?  They’re both Neko-wavers!  Ba-dum tsss!)

The little cafe has some interesting wall art, too.  There are some flowers, and there is a pagoda and …

Sweet Glittering Bifrost!

kroger-thor

Can’t I go anywhere without running into depictions of my stupid, oafish “brother”?  Even when it doesn’t really have his big, dumb face, it’s still his big, dumb face.

My day is spoilt.  Let’s go home.

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Oh, How Could I Forget?!

It happens every fall.  It’s as perennial as the changing of the leaves, the aroma of woodsmoke on the air, and the roar of the football-watching crowds (only one of which actually occurs in this part of Midgard in September.  The colored leaves will hold off until the middle of December, and the woodsmoke won’t arrive until January–unless someone barbecues for Thanksgiving…)

It did happen this year, and I did meddle, but I was so busy being naughty in other directions that I forgot to write about it.  Of what do I speak?  Why of the Dead Cat Ballet, of course!  The arrival of the year’s worth of preserved animals, “fresh” from the Purveyor of Dead Things, carefully coordinated with the PODT, the carrier, Central Receiving, Prep Staff, and Slow, Silent, and Costly.  Given all the things that have to go right, at just the right times, it’s amazing that it ever works.

The human female put her order in in May, the same as she usually does.  This year, the request included a truly staggering number of frogs and sea cucumbers (the latter of which, although they ARE pickled, are not at all nice on sandwiches.  Don’t ask.)  She was informed that the lampreys would be on backorder, and that the sharks might be delayed.  This was expected, as lampreys have the gall not to fling themselves into nets until late in the year.

Fast forward to August, when the human female began to arrange the shipping and delivery.  Central Receiving, true to form, indulged in that Midgardian children’s game known as “phone tag,” but eventually a date and time was settled upon. The human female, having been instructed that all requests to Slow, Silent, and Costly go only through the Department’s Facilities Manager (no more ad hoc work requests to deal with my plumbing projects, if you please), obliged and requested that the post in the double doors be removed.  When she asked the FM for the work order number, in case something went wrong at the last minute (like last year, when the removed post was put back before the delivery even happened), she was told, “It’s under control.”  “But what is the number?” “It’s being handled.”  In other words, mortal, sit down, shut up, and listen to your betters.

The delivery arrived as scheduled, multiple pallets of it, right on time.  One of Prep Staff having had quite enough of the Human Female and moving on to bigger and better things, the team was a person short, so the affianced of one of the minions was dragooned into helping.

I let it all proceed as desired (which should have been their second clue), with swift transfer of all the various boxes from the pallets to the shelves.  Sea cucumbers here, frogs over there, fish on the shelf by the door.  But what about the boxes with no labels?  Oh, just put those in the hallway and we’ll sort them out later.

When all the labeled parcels had been stowed away, the scope of my mischief was apparent.

dead-frog-boxes

None of those boxes had external markings that would hint at their contents.  What was supposed to be a forty-minute session of sweating and grunting turned into a long, protracted, painful parody of Yule, with everyone sitting upon the ground and opening the boxes to discern their contents.   None proved to be completely full.  “I’ve got three rats.” “Four more squid in this one.” “Mine is just twelve copies of the insert for the preserving fluid.”  And so on, for another delightful hour.

At the end, the human female and her minions were short on two items and over on one.  (Midgardians, apparently count like this:  One, two, many, ….thousands.)  A look through the labeled boxes revealed that one, at least, was mismarked and contained something different entirely, altering the count further.

So of course the human female called the PODT, who agreed to send the missing defunct vertebrates.  When she told them how the shipment had been so inefficiently packed as to result in about a pallet’s-worth of unlabeled, un-full boxes and asked if couldn’t they please a) pack full boxes next time, and b) label them.  “Well,  on your next order you should specify that you want the boxes labeled. I don’t know–there might be an extra charge for that.”

Ehehehehe!  Don’t you know that about half your vendors and ALL of the freight lines work for me now?  Now that I know it really bugs you, you can look forward to even more mystery boxes next fall.

One final note.  This might be the end of an era. Since the real, live Dead Cats are being ordered separately these days, since they take so long to arrive, for the first time in memory, there were no actual defunct kitties in this year’s order.  The human female reckons that the whole rigmarole  ought to be renamed.  She’s proposed the “Dead Frog Fandango.”  Hmm.  It’s not untrue, but it just doesn’t have the same “zip.”

What do you think?

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Auspicious, But Only For Felines

What with the heat and all the late nights at work and the book editing and the yardwork and the housework (which the human female will cite as a reason, but which, believe me, she is not doing), it’s a rare night indeed when the humans feel like making dinner when they get home.

That is how we’ve ended up with delicious Chinese take-out for dinner tonight.  I’ve no complaints.  I like a good orange chicken as much as the next fellow, though Sigyn usually opts for the tofu and vegetables, since nothing with a face went into it.

Well, that was good.  Time for fortune cookies!  They’re a ridiculous Midgardian custom, but I think they’re fun anyway.

Here’s mine:

goofyfortune-1

Everything except THIS FORTUNE! 

Sigyn, what does yours say?

goofyfortune-2

Great Frigga’s corset!   That’s…not nice.  I think I shall have to have a word with a certain cookie manufacturer.

On the bright side, the paper bag and the plastic bag that the food came in apparently makes the best crinkly noises EVER! 

goofyfortune-3