Archive for the ‘Luc Reid’ Category
Handy Tips for Detecting Interdimensional Travelers
Thursday, October 1st, 2009
1. Say “Hey, you dropped something!” Interdimensional travelers will often look up.
2. Talk about historical events that never happened and look for nods of agreement. For instance, look at a newspaper while shaking your head in disgust and say “This is exactly like when Benedict Arnold invaded Canada.” (Note: in universe M-117, the so called “reality television” dimensional instantiation, this actually happened.)
This approach does not work as well in some countries, such as the United States, where most citizens are completely ignorant of history.
3. Dye a small, white Maltese dog electric purple and place a headset on it. While this is admittedly not the easiest possible approach, walking down the street with such a creature will tend to send most experienced interdimensional travelers into a screaming panic, as it approximates the appearance of a Dominating Brain Eater Colonization Beast from the RG-12 instantiation.
4. Invite the suspected interdimensional traveler on a picnic. Choose a cloudy day so as to avoid direct sunlight, which makes many travelers nervous and will tend to elicit a plausible excuse about why they can’t make it. Avoid sexual overtones (for obvious reasons).
Pack the following items: twelve mini-cupcakes with mint frosting; one or more bottles of tonic water; a small tub of potato salad, left out for at least three days to ensure it goes bad; and a variety of small pieces of tourmaline cut to give the appearance (to the casual observer) of normal toothpicks.
While at the picnic, set out the mini-cupcakes and take in hand one of the bottles of tonic water. Offer the suspected traveler the potato salad container to open and surreptitiously shake one of the bottles of tonic water. When the salad is opened and the traveler involuntarily fliches away in disgust, momentarily distracted, open the tonic water and let it spray all over the traveler. Stray drops will hit the mint cupcakes, turning the frosting pink if the individual is a traveler. If the frosting turns orange, the traveler is a disguised vortex bear from B-494, and you are in imminent peril. Stab it several times through the heart with one or more of the tourmaline toothpicks, or alternatively, get up and run like hell.
Princess Mermaid Tinkerbell
Friday, August 21st, 2009
“This is my daughter, Chloe,” said the Outland Minister from the land Beneath the North Pole. He was escorted by a cherubic, fire-haired girl of three or four with skin as white as snowflakes in cream. “And these are her friends,” he said, indicating nobody, “Pinky, Kitty’s Pinky, Goldilocks, and Chloe.” He must have seen the confusion on my face as I took in the imaginary friends. “Chloe is a friend of my daughter’s, even though my daughter’s name is Chloe. My daughter is called Snow White Doctor.”
“No!” the daughter said. “Princess Mermaid Tinkerbell.”
“Aha, it sometimes changes,” he said. He cracked a smile, in the same sense that a piece of concrete can crack in extreme cold.
“Please, have a seat,” I said. I wanted to ask the man why he had brought his daughter and her imaginary friends to our informal discussions about possible military alliance against the Cloudholders, but it would not have been a productive or diplomatic question.
“There are no other seats?”
Belatedly, I understood. I called for four more chairs, but when he saw them, he frowned.
“Did you not notice that Princess Mermaid Tinkerbell’s friends are three inches tall?” he said.
“Perhaps some small pillows,” I suggested.
When Pinky, Goldilocks, and whosiwhatsis had (as well as I could calculate) settled onto their cushions, we began to talk. The use of ice vortices came up, which was a delicate subject, and then supply exchanges.
“I’m certain we can arrange for regular deliveries of apples,” I said, though in fact I had no idea how many apples were left in the Strategic Fruit Reserve. It was a necessary posture, though: the people who live Beneath the North Pole are notoriously giddy about apples, and in fact, as soon as I mentioned this the Minister leaned forward alertly.
“Kitty’s Pinky says he’s lying,” Chloe intoned. There was a silence. “And Goldilocks says their Fruit Reserve is almost all gone.”
The Minister raised an eyebrow, and I bent my head in apology. We salvaged the negotiations, eventually making some decent progress.
After they left, I called over my Facilitator Spy. “Get me everything you can find on the little girl’s friends,” I said.
“But … they’re imaginary.”
“I know, damn them,” I replied. He’d have to do his best, but I began to weigh the possibilities of hiring an imaginary deputy.