Skypengu1n

thats right!

anyway we like pacing around together and ranting in the attic but sometimes instead of pacing one of us will just hang on the pole and spin, and the other person will watch on the beanbag, which makes for these really goofy conversations where the person on the bag will say something that gets the other persons goat, such as, hypothetically, that xylophones do not belong in rock music, and then the other person will go on a tirade about this, but they'll actually only be facing the Hot Take Speaker half of the time, what because of the pole, so the response will sound something like

I can't believe

you would even suggest such

a stupid opinion. You've

been to a Danny Elfman

concert! How can you

have heard Oingo Boingo

live and say with a straight face

that they alone do not justify

rock and roll xylophones

and then that person will continue until they get too dizzy, then they'll get off the pole, and by unspoken agreement, the person on the bag will get up and trade places with them to deliver their rebuttal while also spinning and it just creates this sort of crazy strip-court lawyers debating absolute nonsense for no reason kind of vibe that frankly just really does it for us.

Then I called my wife to be like, “Look, there was something by the dumpster and it was unacceptable to leave it there—“

“The painting.”

“…yes.”

“Okay but like. Where did you put it? Because the painting in question was massive.

“The garage. I promise I’ll sell it, but it has brushstrokes! It’s not a print, someone painted this!”

“I know. I knew as soon as I saw it that you’d do this. I’m not mad.”

Taking over fully a quarter of the back yard with what started as a vegetable patch and is currently a wild jungle of collards and courgettes and lemongrass and puha and black nightshade (on purpose) and then I moved overseas and they continue to weed the vetch and swan plants out of the jungle in case I come back

THEY grab ME things from the dumpster that they think I will like, so far including seventeen slightly damp Folio Edition books, half a bicycle that we proceeded to turn into a unicycle, a box of perfectly nice beakers, three litres of nitric acid, and my favourite cardigan:

In return I aid and abet them in blowing things up, albeit remotely now, and in turning the entire hallway into a passable simulacrum of a railway tunnel to complement the painting that hangs at the end, and in making star-map curtains and wall-hangings for the bedroom manually with glow-in-the-dark glitter glue and black velvet when we couldn't find any commercially.

the only thing standing between you and the cold is a single stove.

to increase the heat output of the stove, you can weld lead plates covered in a burning eldritch language onto it.

if you stick enough eldritch words onto the stove, it gains sentience and runs away.

you can then hunt down and capture the stove, at which point you'll have to decide what to do with it.

one of the things you can do is fix it up so it's better-equipped to travel the world, and let it go.

doing this gives you a quality called "liberator of stoves".

this quality does absolutely nothing.

you can do this multiple times, and it will increase your "liberator of stoves" quality every time.

the quality will continue to do absolutely nothing.