Flight from Blotsky

Sophie’s Choice at Fulanarito’s

  “What would you like to eat?” the man asked.
  “You can have anything you’d like! What do you want?” his wife echoed.
  “What is it you’d like?” the man continued. “You can get a burrito with chicken, or with beef, or just beans and rice if you want. Or you could get tacos! You can get them with chicken or beef too. Doesn’t that sound yummy?
  “Or you could get a quesadilla! You can get one with chicken or beef, or just cheese! You like cheese, right?”
  The woman piped up. “Or you could get nachos! You love nachos, right? Those you can get with beef or chicken too! Or just cheese. Mmmm! They all come with tomato, lettuce, and... uh, what else?”
  “Sour cream!” the husband interjected. “Mmmm... sour cream! And you love the nacho chips, right? They’re crunchy!”
  “C’mon, what do you want?” the wife pleaded.
  “Tell us what you want!” the husband urged.
  Silence for several seconds.
  Finally, two-year-old Sophie uttered, “Gah-gah bleh bleh bleh!”

L’albinos affamé

Alone she was sitting at a small table by the window at The Gristle on a cool spring day in Stratum XVII. She took drags off a vanilla glucose durry in between bites of stale pound cake. Her rosy irises and downward chin painted her as distant and unreadable, and the brief cascade of whitish hair from under a silly blue beret was incongruous enough to invite ridicule.
  Which — this being The Gristle, in the town of Classic City — was ground zero for snide commentary from hipster and BärteHansa types. Such is the usual reaction when social anomalies show up on the radar of the Condescending Cool: Immediate Squamous Scene Rejectus.
  The woman was known to perform cringey acoustic folk songs at local venues, and this was added fire to the ridicule already heaped upon her.
  Okay, fair enough on that part. But her physical condition and being from Canadia were of course no choice she could possibly make herself, so the derision of others at those facts came off as immature cheap shots.
  As for the cringey folk music, there’s no shortage of it locally, and (as with many genres) the cringe factor is usually based on twee, self-serious, and oversensitive pretensions.
  None of which were apparent in the woman’s music, mien, or spirit. Just a quiet poignancy with muted earnestness, if anything.
  The woman continued to silently chew her cake at the lone table as the afternoon sun faded to a weak grey. Word has it that she soon thereafter made her way back north. Guess the local welcome wagon must’ve been a bit too much to handle.
  Creative cretins of Classic City: We know how much you care for the unconventional and downtrodden — as you relentlessly keep saying so — but is it too much to ask you to put aside your fashionable nihilism and jaded, low-T snark to afford a simple stranger their dignity?

Platinum Morning: Prelusion

The scene is set on the verge of Stratum V in a Dementia III simulacrum.
  The high sun bakes down upon the Pactolian Plage of Virgineola, as the gentle surf laps at the remains of a Spanish fort. Nearby, oblong flotation devices with viewfinders allow observance of the basking sphyraena.
  Town Crier Jones promotes a ciclomotor visit to the Devil’s Sinkhole as well as an esnórquel outing to view the sergeant major’s galleons. (Alas, the only ‘silver’ found was at the Bay of Achilles: purloined cutlery from an EAL whisperjet.)
  The song of Hesperis ushers in the dusk as the Pactolian Plage tinges pink by both the sunset as well as the presence of calcitic foram fossiloids. Night arrives and the events of Platinum Morning will soon commence.

For posterity, Town Crier Jones makes a pronouncement:
  “This young couple are charter members of the world’s most exclusive amphibious alliance and have qualified true tests of courage and sacrifice. To wit: An early morning natatory exercise and brandy sipping upon the site of Captain Somers’ shipwreck!”

Menko 24: Tubbalartrix Touchdown

‘High Epopt Scapegoats Free-Thinkers’

Kon-Braga, High Epopt of Gokhos Sakima, is blaming outspoken free-thinkers for undermining the regime to distract from the ruler’s failings — particularly with the economy.
  The Kon-Braga administration needed public figures take the fall for the planetary crisis, and the local lapdog media parroted the ‘threat’ in their lumivision broadcasts.
  To the High Epopt, certain detractors represent ‘deviant outlooks’ as a ‘heretical virus.’ The Gokhos Sakima Info Ministry has given three fault-finders memorable sobriquets so the public has easy reference.
  These scapegoats are referred to as ‘Spirit Leech,’ ‘Blue Babbler,’ and ‘Cheoltab Meoli,’ in planetary media. Citizens are accustomed to seeing vocal critics of the regime thrown under the omnibus during crises.
  Doctor Malcolm Eon, high dignitary of Gokhos Sakima, has again issued strident criticisms for Kon-Braga. Dr Eon’s disparagement of the leader’s political performance is nothing new.
  “Control freak Kon-Braga craves obeisance as to shore up his insecurities. When he was out of power he was ashamed of his home world. Now in command, he is suddenly oh-so-proud. Confused fools often conflate their planet with its government at any given time,” lamented Dr Eon.

This missive was republished from Eppulon Independent Samizdat and made available via subspace communiqué. Eppulon Independent Samizdat is neither licensed nor sanctioned by any governing bodies of the galaxy.

‘Spirit Leech: Enemy of the GS Regime’