"aren't you going to smite me?" asked the gnome.
he sucked hard on his latte. "no, gnome. i shall not smite thee."
the gnome looked frightened, even at this.
"you know, when i smite, i am really, actually, smiting myself. you see, gnome," he said, touching it to give comfort, "i have found something new. a new - vista - shall we say."
"but - but - i have failed!"
"no, gnome. you have succeeded. you are actually a very sweet gnome. here, uncover thy hat, that i may rub thy baldness."
the gnome uncovered his hat to reveal the shining mollusc of his pate.
"how nice it is!" he said. the gnome started dancing in front of him for his pleasure, as he rubbed its baldness.
"i must admit," said the gnome, "that i am rather verging on paranoia from your new turn. look, my knees are still shaking." the gnome displayed its shaking, dancing knees.
"it gets verbose too!" he wailed, laughing. "what happens when you press the baldness of the head?" he raised a finger to press it.
"ah ah ah" said the gnome, shaking a finger. "that's the covert smite button. and, if you remember, we said we're not smiting."
he released his finger from its poised position. "yes ...", he said, "... we. i like that ... we ... and not just me." he sucked hard again on his latte, aiming for the bits remaining between the ice.
-------
they were sitting next to each other, as equals. the gnome was illustrating its ability to fish.
"what is this place?" he asked the gnome, looking around the serene plateau, lavished with green bundles and the occasional sprinkling of color. a red here. a yellow there. sometimes they liked to smear themselves in their positions, creating variations of opacity over their backgrounds. "it's pleasing on certain levels."
"you just sit, you see," said the gnome, "and you can get fish."
"can you touch the opacities?" he asked.
the gnome shook his head. "no, just leave them alone."
"but i would like to finger the beauty!" he wailed.
the gnome took a biscuit from their tin, and gave it to him. "no fingering, dude. but you can marvel."
he took offense to this. "i don't marvel, gnome. i am marveled at."
"mmm. who was it told you to stop smiting, anyway?" asked the gnome, munching a biscuit from the tin.
he took the gnome's hat off and rubbed its baldness. "twas my soft rubber toy. back at home."
the gnome nodded. it liked the soft rubber toy. sometimes, when the winter was harsh and they had to burn their beards for warmth, the soft rubber toy used to give them cookies. the soft kind, with melted chocolate chips.
Showing posts with label transportlove. Show all posts
Showing posts with label transportlove. Show all posts
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Transportation of Love -- Part Two
Part One
----
"how's the project going?" asked the soft rubber toy.
"not very well," he said, squeezing it for comfort. "just seems like no one is really motivated." he squeezed it again, soothingly. well, it was soothing for him, at least.
the soft rubber toy loosened itself from his grip and made its way to the fridge. "well, maybe you're being too forceful, you know?"
"what on earth are you talking about, woman?" he said.
"i really wish you would stop assigning gender to me," replied the soft rubber toy, making its way back to his hands. it was sipping on a banana daiquiri. "i'm not some cheap floozy, you know."
"i know, i know. that's what i like best about you."
"yes," said the toy. "but really, i think you need to rethink your approach."
he took a sip that the toy offered him. the daiquiri was cool and refreshing. he relaxed a little more. "my approach? you really think so?"
"yes. you know, sometimes your personality can be a little overwhelming. people need space to breathe."
"but, they're just gnomes!" he protested.
"doesn't make a difference. plus, all that smiting ... it can be very demoralizing."
he squeezed the soft rubber toy again, thinking.
-------
"but smiting is what i do," he pleaded. "i am, therefore i smite..."
"it's very uncreative," said the soft rubber toy.
this made his eyes bulge. "uncreative?" he got off his seat and started pacing. "uncreative? but - but - i am the creatOR! i create! nothing i do can ever be called 'uncreative'..."
"i understand," said the soft rubber toy, nodding. "what has happened is, your wiring has just got a little muddled. the green wire, which should normally deliver to the -"
"wiring?" he said, cutting the toy off. he peered at it, his entire body rigid. "i told you, i'm not a gnome."
"yes, but-"
"i don't have 'wiring'". he lifted a finger, in an arc pointed at the soft rubber toy.
"see! you're doing it again! just smiting away whenever you hear something you don't like!"
his demeanor didn't change. "as i said, there is no wiring..."
"well, there's no wiring in me either!"
"oh?" he said, paused.
"after all, i'm just a soft rubber toy! only sponges!"
he lowered his hand. "well," he said. "i'll concede to that. and maybe, 'metaphorically', my wiring could-"
"yes! yes! 'metaphorically' your wiring could have gotten a little muddled!" squealed the rubber toy.
"yes," he said. "'metaphorically' muddled. i can handle that. 'metaphorically'."
----
"how's the project going?" asked the soft rubber toy.
"not very well," he said, squeezing it for comfort. "just seems like no one is really motivated." he squeezed it again, soothingly. well, it was soothing for him, at least.
the soft rubber toy loosened itself from his grip and made its way to the fridge. "well, maybe you're being too forceful, you know?"
"what on earth are you talking about, woman?" he said.
"i really wish you would stop assigning gender to me," replied the soft rubber toy, making its way back to his hands. it was sipping on a banana daiquiri. "i'm not some cheap floozy, you know."
"i know, i know. that's what i like best about you."
"yes," said the toy. "but really, i think you need to rethink your approach."
he took a sip that the toy offered him. the daiquiri was cool and refreshing. he relaxed a little more. "my approach? you really think so?"
"yes. you know, sometimes your personality can be a little overwhelming. people need space to breathe."
"but, they're just gnomes!" he protested.
"doesn't make a difference. plus, all that smiting ... it can be very demoralizing."
he squeezed the soft rubber toy again, thinking.
-------
"but smiting is what i do," he pleaded. "i am, therefore i smite..."
"it's very uncreative," said the soft rubber toy.
this made his eyes bulge. "uncreative?" he got off his seat and started pacing. "uncreative? but - but - i am the creatOR! i create! nothing i do can ever be called 'uncreative'..."
"i understand," said the soft rubber toy, nodding. "what has happened is, your wiring has just got a little muddled. the green wire, which should normally deliver to the -"
"wiring?" he said, cutting the toy off. he peered at it, his entire body rigid. "i told you, i'm not a gnome."
"yes, but-"
"i don't have 'wiring'". he lifted a finger, in an arc pointed at the soft rubber toy.
"see! you're doing it again! just smiting away whenever you hear something you don't like!"
his demeanor didn't change. "as i said, there is no wiring..."
"well, there's no wiring in me either!"
"oh?" he said, paused.
"after all, i'm just a soft rubber toy! only sponges!"
he lowered his hand. "well," he said. "i'll concede to that. and maybe, 'metaphorically', my wiring could-"
"yes! yes! 'metaphorically' your wiring could have gotten a little muddled!" squealed the rubber toy.
"yes," he said. "'metaphorically' muddled. i can handle that. 'metaphorically'."
Transportation of Love
Written in that curiously uncapitalized form of the internets, Transportation of Love may be a tale about a project manager, or 'God'.
---
"how can," he said, "how can i ensure that when i emit my love, it will really be processed properly?"
the engineers blinked, which was a mistake. they were smited. new engineers came up.
"are you legit?" he asked.
they presented their credentials quickly.
"have some hidden psychological problems?" he peered at them. "some deep seated issues?"
"no," they replied, unanimously.
"good. what i want -- what i want is direct transportation of my love to anyone who needs it."
the honest engineers nodded, unanimously.
"i want everything to become beautiful, all at once. i don't care about the 'necessity for evil', if you bring that shit up, you're visiting hell with those last guys." he stuck his thumb backward, indicating where the poor engineers had gone.
"you what? ah yes. conditions as they have been so far. just make a way to assure everyone alive that they are being taken care of. make them really feel it. what? betrayed love? **** that, that's a tired concept. we have better paradigms. now go, do you job."
-------
"what about free will?" asked someone in the background.
"yeah, no problem," he said. "it's a finite process."
the someone looked blankly at him.
"what, why are you looking at me like a dumbass? get to fucking work!"
-------
he was signing documents when one of the gnomes came up to him. he looked around the room. it was warm and cozy. he liked this. this was good. they were all making the most efficient way to transport his love. everyone was working industriously, which was the best way for things to be.
"yes?" he asked, adjusting his glasses. the gnome shuffled his feet nervously. "out with it man, what seems to be the problem?"
the gnome did a little half shrug. "well," he said, rolling his eyes to buy some time, "well, i mean, 'seems', i mean. 'seems' may not be the best way to put it ..."
"you see these down here?" he asked the gnome. the gnome looked down and nodded. "these are documents. and i'm signing them."
"yes," said the gnome.
"that's my work. that's what i do. they don't sign themselves, you know."
the gnome shook his head along with him. "no, they don't."
he looked around the office. everyone was busy doing their work. there didn't seem to be anyone who could help out.
"do you need a translator?" he asked. he put his pen down to make the gnome feel more relaxed. it seemed to help a little.
"no," said the gnome, "but only - i mean, it 'seems' that the question of free will has come up again."
"you what?" he asked, distracted by the appearance of new documents piling up on his table for signing.
"free will," repeated the gnome.
"whale, wasn't it? some kid's seaworld fantasy?" the paperwork was really starting to pile up.
"err. no. that was 'free willy'. 'free will', on the other hand, er, is like, er, when the people can decide for themselves. er."
he looked at the gnome, and then around the office. everyone was busy working, and didn't seem available to help out.
"do you need a translator?" he asked. he watched with concern as a stream of water slowly seeped down the gnome's pants, and formed a puddle at its feet.
-------
he smote the gnome, and cursed and then smote the urine stain on the floor that had remained.
"doesn't anyone here speak english?" he asked.
"i don't," said some wise guy in the back.
"not in the mood for cheekiness, thank you," he said, straightening some of the new papers that were appearing. "someone just got smited for his inability to communicate properly, i'll have you know."
the gnomes all stared back carefully at their work, which made him feel better. "now, what is this free willy that everyone seems so uptight about?"
they all looked at each other questioningly. no one seemed to know.
"well," he said, exasperated, "isn't there a memo or something - yes, i know, i already smote him. i would appreciate it if you didn't always try to demean everything i say," he said, peering at one of the gnomes sitting nearby, "it makes the whole work environment very negative."
the offending gnome sat back down and stared at its monitor.
"right. well then, i guess no one knows. no free willy tonight, in any case," he muttered. a new piece of paper arrived and he picked his pen up, and got back to signing the documents.
---
there is a part 2, but you will have to wait.
---
"how can," he said, "how can i ensure that when i emit my love, it will really be processed properly?"
the engineers blinked, which was a mistake. they were smited. new engineers came up.
"are you legit?" he asked.
they presented their credentials quickly.
"have some hidden psychological problems?" he peered at them. "some deep seated issues?"
"no," they replied, unanimously.
"good. what i want -- what i want is direct transportation of my love to anyone who needs it."
the honest engineers nodded, unanimously.
"i want everything to become beautiful, all at once. i don't care about the 'necessity for evil', if you bring that shit up, you're visiting hell with those last guys." he stuck his thumb backward, indicating where the poor engineers had gone.
"you what? ah yes. conditions as they have been so far. just make a way to assure everyone alive that they are being taken care of. make them really feel it. what? betrayed love? **** that, that's a tired concept. we have better paradigms. now go, do you job."
-------
"what about free will?" asked someone in the background.
"yeah, no problem," he said. "it's a finite process."
the someone looked blankly at him.
"what, why are you looking at me like a dumbass? get to fucking work!"
-------
he was signing documents when one of the gnomes came up to him. he looked around the room. it was warm and cozy. he liked this. this was good. they were all making the most efficient way to transport his love. everyone was working industriously, which was the best way for things to be.
"yes?" he asked, adjusting his glasses. the gnome shuffled his feet nervously. "out with it man, what seems to be the problem?"
the gnome did a little half shrug. "well," he said, rolling his eyes to buy some time, "well, i mean, 'seems', i mean. 'seems' may not be the best way to put it ..."
"you see these down here?" he asked the gnome. the gnome looked down and nodded. "these are documents. and i'm signing them."
"yes," said the gnome.
"that's my work. that's what i do. they don't sign themselves, you know."
the gnome shook his head along with him. "no, they don't."
he looked around the office. everyone was busy doing their work. there didn't seem to be anyone who could help out.
"do you need a translator?" he asked. he put his pen down to make the gnome feel more relaxed. it seemed to help a little.
"no," said the gnome, "but only - i mean, it 'seems' that the question of free will has come up again."
"you what?" he asked, distracted by the appearance of new documents piling up on his table for signing.
"free will," repeated the gnome.
"whale, wasn't it? some kid's seaworld fantasy?" the paperwork was really starting to pile up.
"err. no. that was 'free willy'. 'free will', on the other hand, er, is like, er, when the people can decide for themselves. er."
he looked at the gnome, and then around the office. everyone was busy working, and didn't seem available to help out.
"do you need a translator?" he asked. he watched with concern as a stream of water slowly seeped down the gnome's pants, and formed a puddle at its feet.
-------
he smote the gnome, and cursed and then smote the urine stain on the floor that had remained.
"doesn't anyone here speak english?" he asked.
"i don't," said some wise guy in the back.
"not in the mood for cheekiness, thank you," he said, straightening some of the new papers that were appearing. "someone just got smited for his inability to communicate properly, i'll have you know."
the gnomes all stared back carefully at their work, which made him feel better. "now, what is this free willy that everyone seems so uptight about?"
they all looked at each other questioningly. no one seemed to know.
"well," he said, exasperated, "isn't there a memo or something - yes, i know, i already smote him. i would appreciate it if you didn't always try to demean everything i say," he said, peering at one of the gnomes sitting nearby, "it makes the whole work environment very negative."
the offending gnome sat back down and stared at its monitor.
"right. well then, i guess no one knows. no free willy tonight, in any case," he muttered. a new piece of paper arrived and he picked his pen up, and got back to signing the documents.
---
there is a part 2, but you will have to wait.
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