Thursday December 3rd, 2015

The exercise:

Write about: the conversion.

We're in the process of converting our extra/guest/office/storage room into Max's room. We've picked out a toddler bed (it's on its way in the mail) and bedding (also on its way), so now we're working on clearing out the room to make space for him and his things.

It's a combination of throwing stuff out and moving stuff into our bedroom. This afternoon I finally took down our old, falling apart dresser (might turn a couple pieces of it into extra shelves in our room) and cleared out my part of the closet so that all my clothes fit either on the hangers or on the shelf. Which also involved tossing a whole lot of old clothes that I'd been using for work around the farm.

Now we need to move a desk and a couple of filing cabinets into our room and do some more tidying up (which will likely involve putting quite a bit of stuff into storage in our basement).

It'll be nice once everything is finished. Hopefully Max will be excited to have his very own room.

At least at some point before his little brother arrives on the scene.

Mine:

"Dude, what's wrong?"

"I dunno, man. I'm, like, confused."

"Oh, wow... did you hit the bar already? We haven't even checked into our hotel yet!"

"No way, bro. I haven't had a drink since we left the plane."

"Pacing yourself, right on. Smart move. So what's going on?"

"Well... I just met up with this dude outside to convert my cash into the local currency, right?"

"Uh... bro?"

"And, like, I'm not sure he was straight with me, you know? I feel like maybe he didn't give me as much back as he should have."

"Um, bro?"

"What?"

"You know we're still in America... right?"

2 Comments:

Greg said...

If you put Max's room down in the basement you could tell him that you're putting him into storage when his brother arrives :-D I think he'll probably have mixed emotions: the thrill about having his own room, the worry that you're not going to be there in the night if he wakes up. Are you going to let him have a say in how it's decorated?
Heh, that wasn't the reason I was expecting for the confusion, but it's a good one. And I suspect that story might even have a core of truth in it from the stories I occasionally hear about these things (my favourite so far being the woman who was going from Australia to somewhere in Europe and wanted to get American dollars because "they're universal; everywhere takes them".)

The conversion
The thalassamerics had gathered on the beach; there were about twelve of them, all silent. Their huge eyes, easily taking up a third of their face, were solid black and glistening. Nictitating membranes swept horizontally across them periodically, keeping them wet. The gill slits in their necks pulsed faintly, perhaps indicating a pulse, or at least a centrally mediated nervous system. Carol, the exobiologist, took notes and had the drone-cameras swooping around in big circles to gather as much data as she could.
Austin walked out onto a patch of smooth sand that the thalassamerics had indicated and stopped when one of them flexed the fins on his back. Austin turned his head slightly so that the humans behind him could see his face, and winked. Everything was ok.
Then the thalassameric that they'd come to designate the Speaker, the one who conveyed messages and seemed to be in charge some how stepped next to Austin, and swung his leg around in some kind of low roundhouse kick. Cartilage stiffened in an instant and sliced through. There was a sudden spray of red, blood that caught the wind and turned into a cloud that made it hard to see exactly what was happening, but Austin's torso slipped forward and fell off. His legs fell behind him, severed from his body, and the thalassameric bent down. The poor angle, the blood-haze over everything, and the sheer shockingness of it all meant that no-one really saw what he did.
When the screaming had stopped and Martha had managed to stop people running out and shouting or shooting, the blood-haze dissipated and Austin was stood back up again, on someone else's legs. They were blue, lined with cartilage like seams, and had clear signs of gill slits up at the thighs. Carol whispered that they were probably near the femoral arteries. Austin's eyes were clear and his pupils were dilated and he wasn't talking.
The conversion has been successful, signed the Speaker. Your pet can come and visit our homestead now.

Marc said...

Greg - yeah, it's been up and down so far, but mostly he's been enjoying it. We've tried to consult with him on as much as we can but at some point we have to make the final call. We'd shown him multiple options for his bedding and he didn't like any of them, so we picked one and now that it's on his bed he loves it.

That's a wonderfully atmospheric and creepy piece. Well, perhaps horrific is the better word. Regardless, it's expertly crafted.