So here’s a question for you. Why is it that humans are born without useable teeth? Why must we bear the process of them boring through several layers of tissue before we can use them? The whole concept sounds incredibly painful my daughter clearly agrees. I’m sure my wife finds the process incredibly necessary in order to avoid tissue damage on her end but it does nothing for my sleep habits. Anyway, this post has a high probability of incoherence as a result of three nights of very little sleep. According to this nifty app on my phone I’ve gotten a combined total of five hours of sleep over the last two nights.
I had planned on discussing the recently digested novel which inspired my all time favorite Russian science fiction movie but my current mental capacities are such that I am wholly incapable of treating it with the poignance it deserves. Although Firefox does not consider that a real word. Screw you Firefox. You’re not my real dictionary.
I’m not really sure where this stream of consciousness will take me but I’m willing to float a while and let the currents flow where they may. I kind of want to talk politics but that’s a bit of a taboo here at Faceplant. We generally try to provide an escape from the humdrum of the 24 hour news cycle. Our focus has always been on great fictional stories and great story telling. Maybe I should discuss exactly why I find stories so fascinating.
That is of course assuming I know myself.
I guess my love of stories began one day when I was about 10 or so. I was out riding my bike on a summer evening. The cicadas were buzzing, the heat was radiating off the road in waves, and I was headed for my favorite spot. The creek. The creek was little more than a drainage ditch built to keep the black swamp at bay for the local farmers. Our county is littered with them. I’d been to this creek a thousand times over and as any 10-year-old boy will tell you, there is never a lack of things to do in a creek.
But this day was different. I’d planned on chasing crawdads or playing with webs of algae but when I got there a family of ducks was waiting.
This was a first. The running water was only about a foot across on either side of the bridge and even under the bridge it wasn’t what anyone would call deep. But today there were ducks.
I approached cautiously but the ducks seemed perfectly content to ignore me. That’s probably when I began to suspect something was amiss. Ducks never ignored me. The ducks at the park always descended on me like the villains in a George R. Romero film. Normal ducks mostly quacked noisily while swimming rapidly away from me.
I sat down on the bank, carefully avoiding the crawdad holes, turned to face the ducks and said hello. The momma duck turned to me and politely said hello back. This was a bit of a shock. I nearly fell into the creek.
There’s more but Tophat distracted me and now it’s either go to bed or die of exhaustion. Maybe I’ll finish the story another time. Thanks a lot Tophat. You and your opinions on the death of Urndot Wrex in the first installment of Mass Effect. Was anybody actually foolish enough to let him die? I kind of think it would ruin the other games for you. Besides. We were totally besties in the first game. Wrex is the coolest.