Ugh! I just realized I forgot to post a Hyaku last week. I was “ops” at work last week, and am again this week, which means that in addition to all the regular stuff I also have to answer the phones, deal with incoming tickets, handle copyright, blah blah blah, and I simply forgot. I’m much likelier to write it this week, out of embarrassment. Interesting side note: when you regularly use a Japanese word on your blog, you get a ton of spam out of nowhere.

In the meantime, I’m contemplating starting a new blog to summarize our ongoing D&D campaign from the perspective of my Thri-Kreen Ranger. It’s a lot of fun playing him – extremely low Charisma score so I play him as being extremely shy, socially awkward and halting in his speech. The Charisma penalty is largely the result of being an ant-man with a voice that sounds like a shrieky cricket on helium, but I have zero desire to force my friends to endure that. Instead, I play it as being the consequence of living among races that don’t use scent and antennae to augment verbal communications and the body language of which is all wrong. He’s got a Wisdom bonus, though, and he tends to be fairly thoughtful if a bit quick on the trigger when it comes time to fight, so I would enjoy writing down his perspective. Thri-Kreen don’t sleep, which leaves him lots of time to occupy his own self while everyone else stretches out and plays dead for eight hours. He finds sleep the creepiest and freakiest of all the things that make friends different from him.

If I do start it, that will mean that I have kind of a lot of writing projects going:

  • editing/rewriting my Machine of Death 2 submission
  • waiting to hear back from my two submissions for the anthology of zombie stories + post-apocalyptic recipes (I was rather proud of my recipes if I do say so myself)
  • contemplating a second Machine of Death 2 submission
  • writing a 100-word hyaku every week for this site
  • writing for Pink Kryptonite
  • debating what to write for NaNoWriMo in November (gay-teen-sleuth-adventure vs. sleazy-gay-real-estate-agent-noir)
  • collecting story ideas for a possible short-run (four or five sessions) game of Vampire: the Masquerade late this year or early next
  • collecting story ideas for a possible Call of Cthulhu one-shot this fall

That’s kind of a lot of writing to have floating around in my head even if I don’t exactly have to put pen to paper every day. It’s good, though, to have that much going on. I have an attention span best measured in microns, so having lots of possibilities makes it more likely I’ll act on one of them. I was considering trying to do Camp NaNoWriMo this summer, which would mean doing, effectively, two NaNos this year, but good grief. I have to walk and sleep and play videogames sometime.

Speaking of videogames, I have officially retitled Fallout: New Vegas, as I experience it, to Fallout: A Game About Hunting And Killing Legionnaires. I keep shooting fake Romans in the head with a modified Laser Rifle and it keeps not getting old. I’ve been doing this for months and there’s no end in sight.

“There’s nothing there. Look at this stuff! It’s all pills and porno and porno pills.” McGruder scratched his pate under his hat with pudgy knuckles, embracing the stereotype.

“I don’t think so.” Billings brought up another archive, fatally strong wireless beamed harmlessly down through dirt and concrete to the ancient data center below. “They sent it to one another in huge volumes but separated it out before anyone could see it. Maybe they found it vitally necessary and themselves unworthy.”

“I think it was junk.” McGruder shrugged.

“I think it was scripture.” Billings spent the whole remaining day reverently browsing backups.

FREE TO GOOD HOME: One metahound, two years old, gray and white, leash trained. All shots are up to date and local taxes are paid. Good with other dogs and assertive cats but made nervous by birds and sudden noises. Tends to split into ~seventy much smaller duplicates of itself when startled. Doppels possess a spectrum of personalities making it difficult to know which qualities convey. Training to reassemble on command is incomplete as of this listing. Always a conversation starter! Great table manners and knows the eight standard tricks and commands. Fixed, but that’s obviously somewhat moot.


Hanna’s least favorite class at High Fantasy U. was Evocation 241, “Literal Metaphors,” a sloppy crash course in phrases brought to life. Shelly loved it, naturally; even those who bend the universe to their will ten times a day have annoying college roommates.

“Why can’t you be normal?” Shelly looked cross during their lab. “Curses aren’t metaphors. They aren’t even allowed.”

Hanna coolly corrected her. “It’s a blasphemy.” Christ on a pogo stick bounced loudly, infinitely, in the aisle. “And yours is a pun.”

Shelly’s lunch mugged for an audience that wasn’t there. “Whatever, you – ” but a quiz burst and interrupted her.

There are lots of jobs worse than mine. I should know. Once medicine got too good the Youth Council capped the age on paid work and still there weren’t enough jobs. Mine is to open filled positions. The wilds are picked pretty clean but there are a few weathered industrialists behind facelifts, under bandanas, bending backs, breaking laws. Rooting them out pays but this one’s my last.

I crest the hill and he’s waiting for me. “You’re no kid yourself,” he says, gun raised halfway.

“Just old enough to need a new job,” I reply. I’m careful to miss his glasses.

I’m completely stealing the idea of Ommatidia, as noted below. Instead of writing 101-word stories I’m going to write microfiction of 100 words. I’m going to call them hyakus, in part as a play on the sound of “haiku” as a similar name for a familiar defined form of very small written product and in part because “hyaku” is Japanese for “hundred” as used in counting.

I wrote one a few minutes ago and scheduled it for Friday AM. I plan to write them for as many Fridays as they seem interesting to do.