things that go smash

‘Tis a Mystery

The humans like to cook, and I will be the first to admit that they have an enviable collection of herbs and spices.  It takes up whole double cupboard, and it’s positively crammed.  I never get tired of watching them rummage to find the basil (which I hide on a regular basis) or the little tin of hot Hungarian paprika which, despite its being bright red, is surprisingly easy to lose in there.  It is extra-amusing when things fall out during this fossicking process, which they often do.  Picking spice jars out of the dish drainer is a common occurrence, and fun even if they do not break.

Crash!  There goes something now!  Let us go investigate.

Ehehehe!  Looks like today it was the lavender sugar that decided to take a header out of the cupboard.  I remember when she made that last year.


Well, look here.  It is a breaky day after all!  The lid is cracked beyond help.  I did better than I thought, when I perched the jar so precariously.

In its tumble into ruin, it landed most ungently on the small slow-cooker that the human female uses to make her special, organic, super-lumpy oatmeal.  And woe is her!  It has broken a fair-sized piece out of the handle.


Out of the bottom of the handle.  I could tell you how I managed to make it happen, but where’s the fun in that?

All hail, Loki, god of Physics Do Not Apply to Me.

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Mischief Update: Where to Start?

I’m already perfect, so I don’t make resolutions, but I do have a goal or two for this year.  One is to be more regular in providing Mischief Updates.  I write about the Big Mischiefs, but not always about the petty, grinding, day to day naughtiness that I thrive on.  Looking back, I haven’t done one since last summer!  To that end, I’ve decided to just sit and type today, and as far as I get is what you get of my infinite naughtiness.   Looking in my Mischief Journal, I have five and a half pages of notes.  I have been a very, very busy boy.

I had the Purveyor of Head Bones send a Second Notice invoice when they shipped some back-ordered platypus skulls.  It woke the human female up–she thought she was in trouble.  I love that deer-in-the-headlights look.

I made a teensy little power outage one day and the freezer with all of the stock of Useful Bacteria warmed up.  I tried calculating all the lost hours of culturing and aliquotting and labeling, but I gave up after a squillion.  And then I laughed as I watched the human female’s minions clean the contaminated freezer.

I arranged for an endless stream of hungry graduate students to traipse through the human female’s office, asking for Teaching Assistant jobs.  It’s such fun to make her have to tell all of those sad, pleading eyes, “No.”

When it came time for the TA training workshop, the human female and her minions were in charge of taping and playing back the practice mini-lectures.  First, I made all the camera cords look like this:

cable woes

What one goes with which TV?  Are the TV’s similarly color-coded?  I don’t know, and neither did they.   Although the minions had checked all the camera and power cord pairs beforehand, I snarled it all up again and arranged that one of the cameras, on the day of, had the wrong sort of output cable.  Then the camera the human female was responsible for somehow had the recording quality set too high, and it ran out of memory right in the middle of someone’s talk.  Embarrassing!  She had to scramble around and get a card reader from the human male and then quickly find the manual for the reader online while everyone was waiting.  Then, at the end of the day, one of the minions dropped a camera.  Odin’s eyepatch, those things are expensive!  It worked for a while, after a fashion.  The display was gone, but if you knew what the display should be, you could poke the right buttons and it would record.  I kicked it a little overnight and the next day it died entirely.  Ehehehehe.  What do you suppose the human female forgets she is one camera down when it’s time for this year’s workshop?

I tinkered with the departmental computer server so that multiple TAs’ directory permissions….vanished.  Others had their cards inexplicably not work to open doors.  The system that lets the human female code door cards wouldn’t let her log in.  Note to self:  this kind of stunt inconveniences a LOT of people.  Must do again.

The folks who were supposed to show up to sell goggles didn’t.  Cue parade of students wandering into the front office to ask where they can buy them.

There was a whole spate of spectrophotometers misbehaving for no reason.

And that brings us just to the end of the first week of last semester!

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Sometimes I Don’t Know My Own Strength

I don’t always plan my mischief down to the last detail.  Sometimes I will just leave a little vortex of chaos lying in wait someplace, all ready for one of the unwary humans to step in.  (I like to be surprised.)

I left such a spell in the kitchen-dining room yesterday.  I expected a dropped fork or a smear of jam on a borrowed library book or perhaps even a burned pork chop.  Nothing happened yesterday, but I have just heard the most enormous CRASH and some colorful language, so I think it may have been triggered!

Great Frigga’s Hairpins!  Be careful, my love, there is very great deal of broken glass in here!


And rather a lot of something wet…


If the human male’s mutterings are to be believed, he was trying to lift a twelve-pack of fizzy water up off the floor.  Somehow a bottle of beer (whose six pack was sitting next to the fizzy water) “hitched a ride” on the carton of water but then let go at a height of approximately four feet.

The destruction is most comprehensive.


Now the human male has some housekeeping and decontamination to do, all the while keeping curious felines out of the beery carnage.  I don’t know what he planned to do today, but whatever it was, he is not getting to it any time soon…

Ehehehehehe.  Good one.

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This Is Why I Hate Her

The humans have been married for mumbledy-something years.  (Doesn’t matter.  Humans are like mayflies compared to the Jotnar and Aesir, so keeping count is laughable.)  For their wedding, all those years ago, they received a set of nice, dark green kitchen canisters.  If you ask me, they’re the nicest things in the whole house.


Imagine, then, my dismay when the human female, with her usual ape-ish butter-handedness, dropped a heavy mug out of the cabinet right onto the sugar canister, which was my favorite.


I’m so mad I can’t see straight.  I didn’t even have the fun of watching her die slowly and agonizingly of intestinal perforations, because she found all the micro-slivers of ceramic in the sugar and threw the whole sticky mess out.

They don’t make them anymore.  Now, unless the human male gets lucky on ebay or something, I’m going to have to look at a set of mismatched kitchenware, and it will annoy the daylights out of me.   Believe me, she deserves everything she suffers at my hands, and more.

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I Am Not Technically Responsible

You poor humans work so hard all day.  Male, at keeping all the computers in the department up and running merrily.  Female, at trying to look busy.

Sometimes, because your work days are long and often stressful, I like to arrange little surprises for you to find when you come home tired and three-quarters brain-dead.

Take today, for example.


Female, I know you’re trying to be better about not leaving glasses on the end table where the feline, hopping up on the sofa, can knock them over.  Good for you–you’ve been careful to put them on the coffee table instead.

Guess now we know where I’ve been teaching your cat to sit.

Oh, stop whining.  It’s not like you couldn’t have predicted this.  They call them “tumblers” for a reason.

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