Daily writing prompts from June 9th, 2008 to December 31st, 2022
Wednesday July 17th, 2019
The exercise: Write about a: probation. Because mine officially ended yesterday, which means I'm now employed full-time with benefits. It's... been a while since I've been able to say that.
I'm glad you clarified how your probation ended, or that would have been another worrying wait for you to catch up to comments :) Hmm, the farm definitely kept you fully employed, but I guess the benefits there were much less tangible -- fresh air, no need for a gym membership, all the snakes you can cuddle, moose-petting at odd times.... I suppose the more mundane benefits have their advantages too.
Probation The living room at Finca Vigia had been remodelled a lot since War moved in. The colonial style furniture that had previously been here was still here, but off to the side. And noticing that was round about the time that visitors realised that the room was a little bigger than the house itself could reasonably contain, though it was only when you started looking at how much of everything there was, or how far you had to walk to get, say, from the wicker basket chair to the glass-fronted display case of medals awarded for bravery, or from the drinks cabinet and wet bar to the arms-kiosk, that it became apparent. Smoke curled through the air, thin grey tendrils that reached out like the arms of an octopus feeling for prey and somewhere, distantly, there was the piping refrain of Johnny Reb scored for penny-whistle and drum. Scuffles was sitting cross-legged on a white rug with a tiny Doberman-coloured chihuahua on his lap. As Famine and Pestilence walked in there was a feeling like an abrupt pressure change, the kind of warning you get that a storm is coming. The chihuahua looked up, its brown eyes deepening to red and starting to glow. "I can't get over the fact that your hellhounds are so small," said Pestilence. Behind him, War harrumphed. "They're just more vicious when they're tiny," he said. "Sure, a bigger dog can take down a horse, but these ones -- well, they seem to be natural-born Generals. I've got two out the back that are taming a grizzly bear." "Sheesh," said Pestilence. "I feel like I ought to be jealous. I've got a cockroach that can give you gonorrhoea if you spend more than five minutes in the same house at it and I thought that was a decent step-forward in biological warfare." The chihuahua yawned, showing off little ivory-coloured fangs, and then sneezed. Flames flickered yellowly over Scuffles's hands and he yelped, more surprised than injured. The chihuahua looked suspiciously smug. "That means she likes you," said War. Scuffles, shaking his hands and trying not to dislodge the dog on his lap, looked disbelieving. "The Boss is over by the map-table," said War. "I can feel him wondering where we are." All three of them shivered in unison, and Scuffles, who saw this, looked puzzled. "You'll find out bro," said Famine. "When the Boss comes looking for you it's not a nice sensation. Let's mosey." Famine led the way, while War leaned closed to Pestilence's ear. "I thought he was getting easier to understand?" "Hah," said Pest. "It's like language is on probation with him at the moment. He seems to be experimenting. You should have been here last week, every other word was in Esperanto." "That's good?" War sounded uncertain, which seemed strange coming from someone who looked Thor had been working out for an extra century. "Not for Esperanto," said Pestilence. His smile was broad but cold. "There are no native speakers after all. Famine's done something nasty to their dictionaries, and I'm not sure it'll recover." "Oh," said War. He thought about it for a moment, then a smile appeared on his broad, blonde-bearded face as well. "Maybe he could take Scuffles for while then? Apprenticeship, probation, that kind of thing." Pestilence thought about it.
2 comments:
I'm glad you clarified how your probation ended, or that would have been another worrying wait for you to catch up to comments :) Hmm, the farm definitely kept you fully employed, but I guess the benefits there were much less tangible -- fresh air, no need for a gym membership, all the snakes you can cuddle, moose-petting at odd times.... I suppose the more mundane benefits have their advantages too.
Probation
The living room at Finca Vigia had been remodelled a lot since War moved in. The colonial style furniture that had previously been here was still here, but off to the side. And noticing that was round about the time that visitors realised that the room was a little bigger than the house itself could reasonably contain, though it was only when you started looking at how much of everything there was, or how far you had to walk to get, say, from the wicker basket chair to the glass-fronted display case of medals awarded for bravery, or from the drinks cabinet and wet bar to the arms-kiosk, that it became apparent.
Smoke curled through the air, thin grey tendrils that reached out like the arms of an octopus feeling for prey and somewhere, distantly, there was the piping refrain of Johnny Reb scored for penny-whistle and drum. Scuffles was sitting cross-legged on a white rug with a tiny Doberman-coloured chihuahua on his lap. As Famine and Pestilence walked in there was a feeling like an abrupt pressure change, the kind of warning you get that a storm is coming. The chihuahua looked up, its brown eyes deepening to red and starting to glow.
"I can't get over the fact that your hellhounds are so small," said Pestilence. Behind him, War harrumphed.
"They're just more vicious when they're tiny," he said. "Sure, a bigger dog can take down a horse, but these ones -- well, they seem to be natural-born Generals. I've got two out the back that are taming a grizzly bear."
"Sheesh," said Pestilence. "I feel like I ought to be jealous. I've got a cockroach that can give you gonorrhoea if you spend more than five minutes in the same house at it and I thought that was a decent step-forward in biological warfare."
The chihuahua yawned, showing off little ivory-coloured fangs, and then sneezed. Flames flickered yellowly over Scuffles's hands and he yelped, more surprised than injured. The chihuahua looked suspiciously smug.
"That means she likes you," said War. Scuffles, shaking his hands and trying not to dislodge the dog on his lap, looked disbelieving.
"The Boss is over by the map-table," said War. "I can feel him wondering where we are."
All three of them shivered in unison, and Scuffles, who saw this, looked puzzled. "You'll find out bro," said Famine. "When the Boss comes looking for you it's not a nice sensation. Let's mosey."
Famine led the way, while War leaned closed to Pestilence's ear. "I thought he was getting easier to understand?"
"Hah," said Pest. "It's like language is on probation with him at the moment. He seems to be experimenting. You should have been here last week, every other word was in Esperanto."
"That's good?" War sounded uncertain, which seemed strange coming from someone who looked Thor had been working out for an extra century.
"Not for Esperanto," said Pestilence. His smile was broad but cold. "There are no native speakers after all. Famine's done something nasty to their dictionaries, and I'm not sure it'll recover."
"Oh," said War. He thought about it for a moment, then a smile appeared on his broad, blonde-bearded face as well. "Maybe he could take Scuffles for while then? Apprenticeship, probation, that kind of thing."
Pestilence thought about it.
Greg - yes, clearly that would have been quite the wait for an explanation...
I feel like I should point out how much I appreciate Scuffles as the name of War's... assistant? Henchling?
Anyway. I am curious to see what the Boss wants with these guys.
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