#kerner

DD: (glances around nice wine bar) This is the second time I've been here since I arrived.

BACK OF BRAIN: Third, actually. Just the first time inside, because it was warmer out the other day. Days plural.

DD (thinks) Oh yeah, okay. Third.

BACK OF BRAIN: Why, I wonder.

DD: The snacks were nice. Also they had that nice local white wine.

BACK OF BRAIN: Kerner.

DD: Yeah. ...Still...

BACK OF BRAIN: Has to be a reason.

DD: Does there? Could just be coincidence.

BACK OF BRAIN: What are the odds?

DD: (shrugs) Granted, fairly low.

BACK OF BRAIN: (notes adjacent street sign) Hmm.

DD: What?

BACK OF BRAIN: "Forno." Oven.

DD: (shrugs) "Oven Row." Or maybe Alley.

BACK OF BRAIN: Come on now. Think.

DD: “Bäckergasse.”

BACK OF BRAIN: ...

DD: ...

BACK OF BRAIN: ... come on...!

DD: ...

MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES: (eyeroll) Baker Street.

DD: (eyeroll) Oh, stop it. Gasse is alley.

BACK OF BRAIN: ...Three times!

DD: It was subconscious. If anything.

BACK OF BRAIN: Come on, now, just admit it.

DD: Absolutely an accident.

BACK OF BRAIN (unconvinced) After you suddenly got the whole final scene of that book the other night? What are the odds.

DD: ...You guys are ganging up on me.

BACK OF BRAIN: Oh, shut up. You love it when we do that.

DD: ...I need another wine.

BACK OF BRAIN: Get a blauburgunder this time. It makes you more creative.

MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES: (dry smile) Heavens prepare us for the results.

DD: (hard side-eye) And you behave or I'll tell your Doctor on you.

DR. JOHN WATSON: ...What?

(exeunt ALL but the Doctor in haste)

The Trump administration has willfully violated the Hatch Act. Again.

As a reminder, it is a violation of federal law to use any government resources (“anything of value”) for “any political purpose.” (5 U.S.C. §§ 7322(3)(A), 7323(a)(2).) It is also illegal for any federal employee to engage in political activity “in any room or building occupied in the discharge of official duties by an individual employed or holding office in the Government of the United States or any agency or instrumentality thereof.” (5 U.S.C. § 7324(a)(2).)

Despite this, the Trump campaign repeatedly used the White House--including the Oval Office itself--and the old Eisenhower Executive Office Building for campaign activity on Election Day. The campaign claimed that “The arrangement has been approved by White House counsel.” In reality, however, the U.S. Office of Special Counsel “was not consulted,” and is now investigating Trump’s apparent violation of the Hatch Act.

Hi everyone! I’ve written a new Redwall fanfiction piece. I believe this is my longest fiction work yet, just under 30,000 words, technically making this a novella. I’m really proud of this, and would greatly appreciate if you could give it a read and let me know what you think, even a short comment would be great.

Because of its length, I’ll only post a short teaser here. The entire story is available on Google Docs or on Fanfiction.net

I hope you enjoy it!

(special thanks to @thegoldensoundtwice for reviewing it for me)

Teaser:

 Yidra was glad that she was almost an adult and no longer of the age where she had to ask permission to wander up and down the beach and then sneak out when her parents said no. Her father didn’t like it when she walked so far from home, but there was nothing he could do to stop her from becoming more independent as she grew. It also helped that her two younger brothers kept her parents busy enough that any time she spent absent from the holt made things a modicum easier for them, so her frequent departures often went without question or concern. 

She was no longer a little otter, but Yidra was still young enough to be unconcerned by acting silly. She danced in and out of the approaching waves, skipping and prancing when the mood struck her. Every so often she would pause to pick a seashell out of the surf to bring to her brothers later. Once in a while, a hermit crab would push itself out of a shell she had picked up, angrily snapping at her with its claws.

“So sorry, Mister Crab. Didn’t know you were at home,” she would say on those occasions. 

On this particular day, she had set out earlier in the morning just after her morning chores were completed, slipping out from her family’s cave in the crowded cavern where the entire holt lived. 

By noon, she was miles from Holt Warmspring, but still well within familiar territory. She and her family had gone much farther beyond when they swam with the currents to chase fish seeking warmer waters. Like any growing ottermaid, she was hungry, and while she would have had no problem swimming out to catch a fish, her mother would be furious if she came home with her clothes soaked and filthy with sand, so she took a line out from the drawstring bag that hung from her belt, found a stick to use as a rod, and cast the line into the sea. She fixed the rod in position while she waited for a bite, gathering driftwood and making a small cooking fire. 

Shortly after the fire began burning, fish started taking an interest in her line. In a few minutes, she had a number of small herring stuck on a spit and cooking. 

“Chew slowly now. Don’t choke on the bones,” Yidra impersonated her mother as she took the fish off the fire to cool before she ate them.

Having only grown hungrier as she fished and cooked, Yidra began to tear into the first fish as soon as it was cool enough to eat. She wasn’t as good a cook as her mother, and she had no other ingredients, but hungry otters are rarely picky, and the fish was stripped to the bone in short order. Still hungry, Yidra moved on to her second fish.

“S’cuse me, missy. Could you spare a fish for a starving young creature?” called a voice from behind her.

***

Der Fluß bleibt trüb, der nicht durch einen See gegangen, das Herz unlauter, das nicht durch ein Weh gegangen. Justinus Kerner