#everything2

To the guns of the firebase, a Psalm of deliverance.

Though we are not holy men, we hope for Earthly salvation found by your power. Though we are not covenanted, we pray for your wrath against our enemies. The maps of this place are the maps of our souls and mortal coils, lo: We search them under red light for the answers we seek, wondering where we are. And so we will search ourselves in the red of the morning in ten years, wondering where we go.

With a prayer whispered skywards in our time of need, forgetting the lessons of Israel, We turn in our impatience to another: Pilot, if you can hear me, I need your parabolic blessing. I need the strength of your metal wings, and the grace of your kneeboard hymns. I give you my offering, my infrared sacrifice on this altar of aluminum and steel.

But there is no answer, and in our shame and loathing we return to you, The force of our enemies increased a thousandfold by the delays of our transgressions. Now, then, in observance, I return to your laws. I have in my heart and my hands the laws of heading and bearing. I feel with my heart and my hands the laws of trajectory and fuzing. I know with my heart and my hands the laws of radius and area.

For each of the prayers, a sacred intonation of: Four-two, sierra-whiskey-delta, and the final canticle: Fire for effect. I pray to you, guns, let your bores be true, let your crew be alert, let your fire be hot. Deliver me from my mistakes and the anger of my enemies. May your footsteps be ruin and your word be Law.

Timing is important. Take the bus schedule for the #2 from the kiosks on the mall, walk the length of the sidewalk as rush hour begins and commuters stream from buildings with shining floor to ceiling windows like pigeons from the ledges of the older stone remnants of the 1900s.

Do not descend into the subway: the Underworld will not take you. Today, you must find the Angel of the Journeys.

(Original: Professor Evil, prepare to be struck down by this shovel I found over in the corner! For JUSTICE!  )

And yet, sadly, sometimes you must do just that.

It seems, at first blush, that everything will be fine...the puppy in question is patient, the kittens are small and resolutely nonsquirmy, your kitten-wrangling and puppy-stuffing skills are paramount.

But as the puppy begins to feel the effects of kitten-crammage (stumbling about as if inebriated, barking in confusion, speaking French) your resolve will waver. You will begin to fear that the capacity for kitten placement in a puppy will fall short and you will be left with that duo of puppy-stuffing shames: a partially-filled puppy and extraneous kittens.

With dawning hope and horror in equal amounts, realization steals over you; the puppy's butt remains vacant of feline presence. A lone kitten looks at you plaintively, mutely pleading for canine succor, perhaps even meowing in adorable confusion at the whereabouts of its recent kitten friends, now fully ensconced in canus.

Though your eternal soul will no doubt be roasting on a demonic spit within hours, a simple lift and push and a moment's struggle with the domestic representatives involved completes your task.

Kittens: out of sight (if not of mind) Puppy: thoroughly filled with kittens

Relax for a moment and reflect on your deeds this day. You have done the nearly-impossible. You depraved bastard.

E2 bugs|Nathan, this is unacceptable I've come home from days away and find my house in doom|ruin. Nathan, this is unacceptable. The sun has been out f...