Archive for the ‘Authors’ Category
Crossing the Streams: A Universal Traveler’s Guide to Public Urinal Etiquette
Thursday, June 3rd, 2010
Attention Human:
1. Idle chatter is discouraged. If you must talk while whizzing, stick with safe topics such as the exchange rates of galactic currencies. Avoid referencing the weather with terms like “pissing down.” Never talk about sports. Trust us.
2. No matter how appetizing it may be, the toilet cookie (urinal cake/deodorizor block in some sectors) is not a dessert item. Note that this will not stop certain species from eating it.
3. Some reptilian races may compliment and/or challenge you by releasing their urine in your direction. Remember that while pissing off an alien is generally a bad idea, pissing on an alien is, sometimes, necessary to your survival.
4. Do not put foreign objects in the urinal. Galactic restroom sanitation services have the technology to tag your items and send them back to you via rapid teleportation. You do not want this.
5. Don’t use your communicator to update your status or whereabouts, even if using less than 140 characters. It makes you look like a douchebag.
6. We realize the urge to look at your neighbors’ equipment is strong. Resist this urge, especially on rimworlds. Nothing is a faster weenie shrinker than close inspection by three dozen purple eyeballs.
7. Pointing and laughing will usually result in death.
8. Whistling and humming can often be taken as sexual come-ons. Unless you are into that sort of thing, keep your mouth closed and save that rendition of “It’s a Small World After All” for when you’re alone.
9. Do not smoke. Some species expel gases which are much more silent and deadly than you can imagine. And just because you haven’t smelt it doesn’t mean someone hasn’t dealt it.
10. Wash your hands. Push the button clearly marked “soap” as all other cleansers will melt your flesh. When drying, we suggest the lowest possible setting unless your insurance covers emergency limb replacement.
Keep these tips in mind and you’ll make it out of the bathroom alive.
This has been a service of the non-profit organization Not All Humans Are Dumbasses.
Let’s work together to make humanity look good – but not so good that they eat us!
Out the Angels Come
Wednesday, June 2nd, 2010
This is a sequel to “God Is Not Screwing Around“.
Martin was not in Heaven. He appeared to be in a suburb of Heaven at about one in the morning on a weekday. He wandered down vaguely curving streets through 70’s- and 80’s-era raised ranches that were uniformly dark and silent. Martin felt like he had been wandering for hours. If that was true he was late for his meeting with God.
Another intersection: Pinta Street and Apple Tree Way. He’d been here before … right? Or was it just someplace like it? No, this was the place: there were those concrete, warehouse-looking buildings he’d seen before with the signs that said things like “Platform 3” and “No Lifters.” He had a choice of either a grimy alleyway by the “No Lifters” sign or going back into the winding suburban maze. The maze was beginning to creep him out, so he decided to take his chances with the alley.
The alley was short, it turned out, and ended in a wooden door that was a little bit ajar. Martin pushed on the door, but couldn’t see anything in the dimness beyond. He went through.
“Oh, wait, hang on!” said a trim little guy with beautiful teeth, stepping out of the gloom and putting a hand on Martin’s chest. “What’re you doing here, now?”
“I’m Martin?” Martin said.
“Is that a question, or are you actually Martin?” said the trim little guy.
“Actually Martin.”
The trim little guy smiled and dropped his hand to a “shake” position. Martin shook it. “Martin, I’m Timmy Gates … they call me Pearly. You here to see God?”
“He said 3:00.”
“Well, time is immaterial here, and you died at 2:57, so you’re all set. OK, people!”
This last thing was said to the gloom, which lit up with golden and misty white light. A host of angels–a large host, as in probably more than a thousand–burst into song. Martin had a hard time tracking the song, but it was so gorgeous his head nearly exploded, and it seemed to be more or less on the theme of “We love you, Martin! Welcome to Heaven!”
After about a week of that–which was less than Martin wanted–the angels wrapped it up and then flapped off without a word, leaving Martin alone with Pearly.
“Is that because God … ?” Martin began.
“Oh, no,” said Pearly. “They do that for everybody. You can’t stop angels from singing, am I right? Come on, let’s go see the Big Guy.”
So they went to see the Big Guy.