Archive for the ‘Authors’ Category
Shiny Sky Spirit
Thursday, January 8th, 2009
Here’s a quick message from cabal central: we’ll be undergoing some site maintenance this weekend, so the site may be down for some or all of the period from Friday to early next week. Thanks for bearing with us.
In Winter, a bright light was seen to travel the heavens from west to east. It came to earth near River-Runs-Each-Spring. The People went there and found a tall silvery house in a broad area of blackened ground, surrounded by melting snow.
“What is it?” asked Muskrat, twitching his snout.
“It is the House of a God,” Duck answered, and ruffled his feathers. Just then, the House opened and Someone stepped forth.
“And Who is that?” Antelope breathed, her hooves moving softly.
“That is Shiny Sky Spirit,” Heron clacked, and so it was.
*
Duck went to Muskrat. “Shiny Sky Spirit demands tribute.”
“What must we give?”
“Ore. Great quantities of ore.”
And so the villagers brought ore to the tall House on the plain.
Next, Shiny Sky Spirit demanded that the ore be refined, and the metals separated, one from the other. This, too, was done, after a long and troublesome time. Shiny Sky Spirit, who had taken to striding about, shouting in a deafening voice, finally brought the spring rains. There was great celebration among the People, and thanks were given to Shiny Sky Spirit for his mercy and generosity. After the celebration, the full Moon shone down, bathing the village in Her cool radiance. Shiny Sky Spirit came to Heron where she stood on the bank of the river. Shiny Sky Spirit covered Heron, and afterward returned to His House.
Shiny Sky Spirit caused to be erected around His House a magical palisade, and he remained within it for several weeks. During that time loud and harsh noises were heard from within the palisade. After a time all became quiet. The next night the ground trembled, and a bright light ascended from within the palisade. In the morning, the People approached the palisade gate. They called, but received no answer. Finally, Duck flew up and looked over the top of the palisade. The interior was a flat expanse of black and smoking soil. Shiny Sky Spirit had returned to the sky.
A few weeks later, Heron laid two marvelous eggs. One was as reflective as a clear, still pool. The other swirled with all the colors of Rainbow. The eggs nestled in Heron’s nest, and she sat upon them, so they would quicken. The People waited patiently to see what would hatch out.
The end
It’s the Beer Talking
Wednesday, January 7th, 2009
Here’s a quick message from cabal central: we’ll be undergoing some site maintenance this weekend, so the site may be down for some or all of the period from Friday to early next week. Thanks for bearing with us.
And now, on to Ken’s story.
Johnny knew it was a bad sign when the jukebot switched to country music without his keying in so much as a chit. It rolled past his table, turned a suspicious cam on him for the briefest moment, then cut off its trance-punk-disco mix in the middle of a three-chord flourish. Did he really look that desperate?
He took another swig of beer when a voice whispered in his head that, yes, he looked like he’d slept in his clothes again, like he’d just been dumped by his longtime GF for a multitude of clichés, like he’d lost his job to a young tool just out of college working for half the salary. All this was true, and that made the bot’s choice of Vince Gill whining about his lost lover all the more depressing.
The voice said, “Order another beer,” so he did. The waitbot brought a pitcher.
Halfway through the next beer, she sat down. Retrogal, hair all big and splayed out, just how he liked it. Jeans that looked like they were made from real cotton, so tight they seemed painted on rather than worn. George Jones, long-dead but somehow still relevant, warbled from the bot about Corvettes and two-dollar pistols.
“Hi,” she said. The waitbot put a glass in front of her and Johnny filled it. “I just love this beer,” she said. “Don’t you?”
“Speaks to me,” Johnny said. His words were slurred. “Tells me stuff.”
She finished half the glass in one go, then nodded like that was the most profound thing anyone had ever said to her. Of course, Johnny reminded himself, this was a bar, and it might well have been.
“Feeling lost,” he said.
“She dumped you, huh?”
“That’s not the half of it,” he said. “Wait, how did you…”
“Beer talking,” she said.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. He tried to say something else, but failed.
“I can help you get it back,” she said.
“Get it back?”
“What you lost,” she said.
He thought about that long and hard, as only someone drunk on nano-enhanced beer could do. He thought all the way through Kenny Chesney talking about not knowing what he’d do if he lost it.
She smiled at him and put on some lipstick that glowed like electrified maraschinos.
That settled it. Johnny downed his Nanoweizen, poured another glass from the pitcher, and ordered a round for the house.
Smart beer, dumb retrogal, the promise of redemption. Maybe not a solution, but a damn fine distraction. What the hell.
When “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off” started playing, he knew he’d made the right choice.
He’d take her home, open up a bottle of Patrón, and turn on some rock and roll.
The hangover would be worth it.