*Hey, Sista! Mal and Pops have decided that the Plaza Vortex has cooled down enough from their little ritual to schedule the formal dedication. Pops would like you to to work up an announcement for sector-wide comms. Kapisch?*
*Don't call me "sister", bubba! You're a bloody 2 meter cube! I'm a nice round 23 cm sphere. No resemblance whatsoever! So.. who all do they want invited?*
*Sheesh! Touchy! Pops just wants it directed to the "Citizens of Sirius". That's a pretty big guest list. You'd better haul Sophie, XM, NM-23, and anyone else you can corral for valet parking duty!*
*Nah, Max. Most people avoid Canaria like the plague these days.. too many unexpected explosions. I would estimate maybe fifty or so ships.. couple of hundred people for the Dedication, maybe half that for the reception at the Veranda afterwards. We can handle it. Tell Pops I'll have a rough draft for him soon. Dis out. 23's.*
*You and those bloody sacred Discordian numbers. I'll let 'em know. Max out.*
Sophie Noir made an interesting find this morning. A gent who indentified himself only as "Mr. D" was sitting at a sidewalk table when she opened the Canaria Cafe, and ordered an Oro Double and a Laughing Goddess cruller.
During idle chatter, he dropped several interesting words, among them, "synchronicity".
She sent him to see me. I vetted him for the TAZ on the spot.
Keep your Pineals peeled for the [~V~]Shamballa, folk. He's rather new here in the south of Sirius, so he may need some advice on the best mining locations and trade routes. Make him feel he's in the arms of Eris, eh?
Oh, and if any of you should catch sight of any vessel squawking the old ELF signal "Miss Kitty", or a tall, rather striking blonde, let myself, Fnordie, or his friend Rick know right away. It's important.
10 days til the Dung Festival! Let's get those tickets sold!
Jack Handey Wrote:I can picture in my mind a world without war, a world without hate. And I can picture us attacking that world, because they'd never expect it.
*I mounted it on the Fo'cstle of the Santas.y.Pescadoros. Wondered why the damn thing would never fire.
*Sorry. I'll put it back.*
*(Just call me Dizzy.. Please don't tell the Inquisition! They'll burn me at the Steak and Brew. Har!)*
*P.S. Fnordie! Run for the hills! The Inquisitors will cut off two of your legs, make you stand upright, pin your ears down, and make you learn Engrish!*
Sorry to say, Gents, but had a rather unpleasant encounter with a Skinwearer during my evening constitutional.
I popped out to find a BH-ID'd, BH-tagged Rheinland gunboat with the moniker "Stormcrow II" shooting up our front yard! A brief scan revealed a hold full of our Corsair neighbors.
I asked this fellow to cease trashing the neighborhood immediately and to vacate the premises. He continued blithely to shoot up the corsair titans swarming about him like flies.
Well, I lost it. I proceeded to collect a hefty toll in bots and batts from this lad; while he kept mumbling something about my right to keep the peace hereabouts.
Apparently the fellow has not heard that we prefer a peaceful system. Well, I proceeded to "escort" him at cruise in about six different directions until he finally got his bearings, and proceeded to exit via Dublin.
There was also some mumbled threat about "being back", which you'll see in the accompanying "delayed" candids of our chat that he was attempting to make good on, I assume, in the "Stormcrow.. a lvl 81 something that took almost five minutes to get from New York to California.
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Well, having taken the air sufficiently, and calmed myself somewhat, I dropped back to Reg's to draft this little epilogue. Did he come back? Not sure. It was then past my bedtime, and I truly couldn't be arsed to check.
General warning, then, lads and lasses. Any incarnation of "Stormcrow" is liable to be back throwing his weight around. Show him a nice time, will you?