vakkotaur | Entries tagged with microfiction

"Ah, Spring is finally here and things are warming up." beamed Roger, "All the Winter's fuel burning has finally paid off."

Stanley looked up, "Huh? Sure, the furnaces kept people warm through the Winter, but what do you mean the fuel burning 'paid off'?"

"Oh, doesn't the scientist get it? Seasons are global warming's short form."

"Riiiight... care to explain that line of thinking?" asked Stanley, looking slightly queasy.

"It's simple enough. Plants grow in the Spring and Summer. Plants removed CO2, a greenhouse gas, from the atmosphere. Less greenhouse gas, less greenhouse effect, and things get colder, this causes Fall and Winter."

"Oh bru-uh-uhther... dare I ask of the rest?"

"Equally simple. It gets cold and people burn things, mostly hydrocarbons, to generate heat. This releases CO2 and when the greenhouse gas CO2 concentration comes back up enough there is more warming. And that's how Spring and Summer return."

"Ow. you make my head hurt. It just doesn't work that way. Seasons are the consequence of the tilt of earth's axis and each hemisphere getting less or more solar radiation as the earth orbits the sun."

"The scientist wants to explain it away with astrology? I never thought I'd hear..."

"'You never thought' sums it up rather well," Stanley grumbled, "I suppose next you'll say that more cookouts and grilling leads to milder Winters."

"You know, I hadn't thought of that, but it fits. Yeah... cookout supplies cost money and with the dampened economy that's a bit of a luxury, so I expect there was less grilling last Summer... and we just had more a severe Winter. Yes, it fits. We had rather mild Winters in the last good economy and we seem to be returning to the 1970s both economically and climatologically."

"Arrrgh!" exclaimed a now quite pained Stanley.

"Aww, You sound tense. I'll go make some tea." Roger wore an absurdly wide grin as he left the room. He didn't believe a word of it, but he finally had gotten back for being exposed to the horror of Shatner Sings Streisand.

Stanley came in, stomping his feet harder than necessary to knock the snow off of his boots. "Of all the..." he muttered.

Roger looked up from his book, "Things not go well tonight?"

"Not at all." replied Stanley, "They got it in their heads to put on a living nativity."

"That sort of thing," Roger opined, "is rather to be expected of religious or even semi-religious organizations, you know."

"Oh, I know. I have no problem with the idea itself. It's the casting with which I disagree." grumbled Stanley, "But it looks as though I might just be stuck with it."

Roger paused a moment. "Well, I cannot picture you as Joseph."

"Neither can I, but I could deal with that."

"And I doubt you'd have any objection to being one of the wise men."

"Indeed!" agreed Stanley, "I'd have no problem at all with that."

"So, you do not wish to portray a shepherd?"

"A shepherd... would not present a problem."

"What, you've been cast as a sheep?"

"No, not a sheep..." grumped Stanley, "Nor a camel, since you're about to ask."

"That rather limits the possibilities. The conclusion seems inescapable. Remind me, just why do you even deal with these folks? It's not as if you are all that religious."

"The food is excellent. And they know their wines."

"So," concluded Roger, "you go there to eat, to drink, but..."

"Yes!" snapped Stanley, "But not to be Mary!"

"Why don't you just take a long walk off of a short pier?" suggested Stanley to Roger in the midst of another of their conversations.

"Actually, I have done just that," replied Roger, "not but a few minutes ago."

"You appear rather dry for it."

"You are assuming," Roger said with a note of satisfaction, "that I was so foolish as to start my walk off the pier from the land end."

"I have decided," announced Roger, "to take up a new avocation."

Stanley paused, a look of worry slowly engulfing his face. "Not another one. Then, if it keeps you from writing song parodies it might be a good thing."

"And what was wrong with my song parodies?" demanded Roger.

"Lack of effort. The song you started with is rather a self-parody already."

"You really have it in for 'These Bombs Were Made For Dropping' don't you?"

"Have it in?" Stanley scoffed, "Come on, you changed one line, the title and alleged refrain, and did a bit to the first verse. The other verses didn't get changed at all."

"Well, they didn't need changing..." offered Roger.

"That's exactly it. It was too easy."

"I had to start somewhere. Why start with something overly difficult?"

"You were in no danger of excess difficulty, I'll grant, but... it was really your second attempt that shows you shouldn't do song parody."

"You mean, 'These Boobs-"

"STOP! Not only is it offensive, it uses the same tune as 'Bombs' did."

"Well..." Roger changed the subject, "anyway, you will be relieved to hear that my new endeavor has nothing to do with song parody."

Stanley, looking vaguely pained, asked with an air of resignation, "Very well, what horror are you going inflict upon the world -- and worse, upon me -- this time?"

"No horror. I shall break into automobiles..."

"That's wrong!" Stanley protested.

"...and steal..."

"That's illegal."

"...the alarms."

"That..." said Stanley, as he sank back into his chair, "...might just be a public service."

Stanley's concentration was broken as Roger bounded into the room. "I've decided to change my name." exclaimed a far too pleased Roger.

"Oh, finally got tired of getting called 'Roj' instead of Roger? Or did all the lame 'Wilco' jokes finally get to you?" inquired Stanley.

"A bit of both." Roger explained, "I've been thinking of a change for a while, but had trouble coming up with something I liked."

"Uh oh. Dare I ask what you've settled upon?"

Roger replied with an annoying smirk, "Jesus H. Satan."

"Oh, so you wish to offend everybody, is that it?"

"I prefer to think of it as equal opportunity. Jarring contrast is good humor."

"I thought you said Good Humor was ice cream. Anyway, I've got to ask, knowing full well I'll regret it, but... just what does the H stand for?"

"Huh?"

The exasperated Stanley repeated, "What does the H stand for?"

"Huh?" was once again Roger's reply.

"What does the H stand... Oh no. The H stands for 'Huh?' You just ask for trouble, don't you?"

"I have a sense of humor, that's all."

"Out! Just get out. Now, before I have to do something unpleasant."

Roger looked around and saw nothing unusual in the room, "I think I'll risk staying."

Stanley grinned a wicked grin and fiddled with a remote control. A moment later loud strains of Shatner Sings Streisand sent Roger fleeing in horror. "How odd," observed Stanley, "one would expect Satan could withstand a little evil."

Current Mood: mischievous

Stanley broke the pleasant silence, "It seems to me ID explains quite a bit, really."

"Wait. You? Support ID?" gasped Roger in disbelief, "You, the, admittedly quite mad, scientist type? You're joking, aren't you?"

"No joke. It's rather painfully obvious, isn't it? Take a look at the world, it's rather messed up. Consider interest rates..."

"Now hang on a moment! What's that got to do with ID, which pretends to be about biology and where evolution breaks down?"

"It's still ID, but fine, biology and evolution. Take the giraffe..."

"Please!" quipped Roger, to Stanley's irritation.

"Giraffes, for example, are tall and have long necks to eat the leaves of trees that also grow quite tall, but getting water or anything from the ground is awkward. That's because a giraffe has only seven neck vertebrae, the same number of neck vertebrae as a human or a mouse."

"You've just made a good point against ID, you know."

"Nonsense. It's very ID. You or I or any halfway competent person would have added more vertebrae and made the giraffe's neck more flexible, at the very least. Evolution generates workable solutions, but those aren't necessarily good solutions, merely 'good enough.' Keeping the same number of vertebrae may be simple, but is rather inelegant. Thus, it supports Inelegant Design quite well."

Roger shook his head in disbelief. "Inelegant? Emily Litella!"

"Who's she?"

"Never mind. You've misheard. They're calling it Intelligent Design."

"Intelligent?!" sputtered Stanley, "Please tell me you're joking."

"I wish I was. 'Inelegant Design' would be so much more appropriate."

Stanley slumped, "I think..."

"Yes, you actually do."

"I think," repeated Stanley, "I need to take a couple aspirin and lie down for a while."

I suppose this was partially inspired by the_gneech's fictionlets.

"It's possible. Not only possible, it'd be easy!" exclaimed the excited Stanley.

Roger looked up, "What would be easy?"

Stanley sighed, annoyed at Roger's not having registered what he'd been explaining for a considerable time, "The Stupidity Bomb."

Roger looked quizzically at Stan, "Stupidity Bomb?"

"Yes! If detonated, it would unleash a tremendous blanket of idiocy over a vast area. Possess that and you can hold any nation that values its wits hostage. Imagine what they'd pay not to be rendered imbeciles!"

"Uh huh. Have you read any newspapers, or popular magazines lately? Maybe listened to the radio or watched television?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

It was Roger's turn to sigh as he switched on the usually dormant television, "Watch, and learn." He started slowly flipping through the channels.

Stanley stared. His jaw dropped. Profanity followed. There was only one possible explanation. Not only had someone beaten him to building the bomb, but whoever did it also had quite obviously detonated the wretched thing. That much idiocy simply could not have occurred naturally.