Monday September 11th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about something that is: stagnant.

So it turns out I shouldn't have had to take away all that lobster garbage yesterday. It was in their agreement to use the park that they would take care of the garbage. Apparently they did this last year as well, so they'll be getting a phone call from the director of my department about it.

Which I find rather satisfying at the moment.

One more day to go and then my shortened weekend begins.

Why shortened? Because I'm trading my Sunday for Saturday with Tammy so that I can go with my family to the Rock Creek Fair this Sunday.

Mine:

"I'm worried about Lester."

"What's he done now?"

"More like, what is he not doing?"

"... okay, so what is he not doing now?"

"I just think he's not progressing like he should be. He's lost all momentum and he's just... stagnating."

"Stagnating."

"That's right."

"Honey, give it some time. He's not even a year old yet."

4 Comments:

Greg said...

It does rather make sense that their agreement would include managing their own rubbish, so it's good to hear that they're going to be reprimanded for it. I wonder what will happen next year? I'm hoping that the Director will turn up himself to ensure that they handle their rubbish.
Have fun at the fair, and I hope Max enjoys the horses again while you look on from a safe distance. I'd forgotten you don't much like horses... or snakes... or bats... actually, what animals are you comfortable around? I'm sure I remember writing about spiders in the walls and you not liking that much either :)
I'm with the first parent here. Lester's definitely stagnating and needs proper encouragement, like regular beatings and result-driven meals. it'll be good for him in the long run!
[Sorry, it's too long again for one post, but hopefully it's entertaining enough to be its own apology!]

Greg said...

Stagnant
Professor Several Snipe perched like a crow on the edge of his desk. His black robes swirled around him in a breeze that no-one else could feel and his hair ruffled like feathers. A deep purple haze fuzzed about six inches away from him; visible like a rainbow, easier to see out of the corner of your eye and vanishing when stared at directly. Looking at it for more than five seconds made you aware that someone or something was screaming faintly very far away, and made your skin crawl.
"Right class," he said pleasantly, his beak-like nose casting a shadow on the far wall like a gryphon, "today's potion is Boggarty. Who knows -- by which I mean of course, haha, who has done the reading before class -- what the primary ingredient of Boggarty is?"
Four hands shot into the air, followed slowly by a couple more. Half the class stared hard at their desks hoping that they wouldn't be asked.
"Half of you, that's impressive," said Several Snipe. He looked at Harry Potter, who was slowly going cross-eyed. "Mr. Potter? Do you know?"
"Stagnant water," said Harry, his eyes uncrossing. He looked relieved.
"Yes," said Several Snipe. "Why didn't you raise your hand?" His eyes left Harry and focused on Hermione, who met his gaze calmly and unblushingly.
"I couldn't remember which one was my arm," said Harry. A trace of a smile flickered across Snipe's lips.
"Oh to be young again," he said. "Very good, Mr. Potter, stagnant water. Those of you who did the reading will have known to bring your own stagnant water with you; the rest of you may pop over to the school swimming pool -- last used in 1941 -- and get a flaskful from there. Try not to fall in."

As the students started making the potion cauldrons bubbled, silver athames flashed, and a smell of boiled cabbage mixed with day-old lobster filled the air. Demeaned Thomas sniffed his potion, and moments later vomited into the pot. Snipe nodded approvingly and somehow meandered over to Hermione's desk where a cauldron was bubbling with a greasy green liquid that looked like it would poison an angel.
"Very good, Miss Mangey," he said. He dipped a slender wand into the potion and let a few drops pool on a silver watchglass, where he studied it intently for nearly twenty seconds. "Someone," he said, "got into the Chamber of Secrets last month. I'm sure it would be unjust of me to suggest that you might have gone there looking for a way to cover up Mr. Potter's brain-damage."
"Absolutely," said Hermione plucking a house-elf foot from her ingredient's tray. It looked astonishingly fresh, still pink and the blood only just congealing. "I think if you check with the Demented you'll find it was Rancid Weasel."
"And I think you should be aware that only people who use the Chamber of Secrets know that it's guarded by Demented," said Snipe. "This is truly excellent, Miss Mangey. What did you add to your stagnant water, if I may ask?"
"I was lucky enough to find a ditch that a hedge-witch had drowned in," said Hermione.
"Just as I'm sure you were lucky enough to find a house-elf in the kitchens that really, really wanted to cut its own foot off. Well done, Miss Mangey. You are an astonishingly accomplished young witch. Mouldybones really has no idea what's going to be coming for him."

morganna said...

Pooling under the thick trees
Overhead, a stopping place for the
Night birds who cry
Death.

morganna said...

Pearlescent in the moonlight
Opening the senses to the keening,
Needy cry of the
Delicate elves.