Weekend Writing Warriors: Odd Duck (Pushing Buttons)

We WriWa bannerHave a WIP, an EIP, an MS, or a published work you want to share on your blog, eight sentences at a time?

Want to sample other people’s WIPs, EIPs, MSs, or published works, eight sentences at a time?

Be a Weekend Writing Warrior!

Rules are here!

List of participants is here!

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Or if you’re a fellow Facebook addict (we can quit any time we want to, right?),
why not check out the offerings of the Snippet Sunday gang?

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Last week, our hero Tom went to the historical home of the Talbot City packleader and met Merrok, a female werewolf who should not be mistaken for the housekeeper (once I get all my edits done).

Merrok is taking Tom to where Travis Rendall—the West Coast wolf who attacked Tom in the first chapter—is being held.

Callbutton

She led me through a series of hallways with oil paintings on the walls, thick carpets on the floors, and occasional objects d’art displayed on antiques.

It must have been tough to keep the wolf hair out of everything, but I decided to keep my comments to myself; I didn’t want to end up next to Travis Rendall—or buried in the back yard.

There was a small, discreet metal plate set into the wall next to what looked like a mahogany pocket door. She pressed the lower button and the door slid open. An elevator.

We went in, stood in it a while, and stepped out onto a different floor, darker and cooler. A painting of the Wild Hunt, with wolves instead of hellhounds, chased around a low, domed rotunda.

Three corridors led in different directions.

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The Spring Time Change is a horrible thing to do to the chronically sleep-deprived and this seasonal torture is extended by at least a week for parents of school-aged children, because kids generally do not go gently into what their bodies tell them is an unforgivably early bedtime, just because of some government mandate. And waking them up an hour earlier than they’re used to is no picnic, either.

If you didn’t have to switch your clocks forward last night, you have my envy, and if you did, you have my sympathy and shared misery.

Either way, I’m going to try to visit everyone else’s blogs before I inevitably crash this afternoon.  If I don’t make it before my brain shuts off, I will if when I wake up.

DST

Random Thursday: Random Acts of Espionage

Random Thursday (ˈrandəm ˈTHərzdā): the day on which Sarah plunks down all the odd bits and pieces she’s been sent by friends or has otherwise stumbled upon this week in an effort to avoid writing a real post, the assembly of which usually ends up taking twice as much time as sitting down and creating actual content.

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Sad . . . But True

Flash Spy

And then I forget to take it out of my pocket before I do laundry
and immediately go back to feeling like a total idiot.

ooooooooooOOOOOoooooooooo

Contractual Random Science Pun

Bond Hydrogen Bond

(Thanks, Kev!)

 ooooooooooOOOOOoooooooooo

 Crying  U.N.C.L.E.

I’m pretty sure my childhood adoration of the Men from the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement is responsible for my current love for the Agents of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.

The Man From U.N.C.L.E. originally aired the decade before I was born but I watched all the episodes in syndication and I even own some of the books, gleaned from dusty bookshops and flea markets.

I am permanently in love with David McCallum, who played Illya Kurakin, the pragmatic Russian counterpart to Robert Vaughn’s Napoleon Solo, who was just this side of too smooth and debonair.

And now, Guy Ritchie is making a movie, starring Henry Cavill and Armie Hammer.

Is that really going to work?

 Yeah.  I think it will.

(My husband tells me that MeTV is airing the original show on Sunday evenings, if you’re interested)

  ooooooooooOOOOOoooooooooo

i_know_youre_listening

Ever get the feeling that your life is the surveillance equivalent of counting sheep?

ooooooooooOOOOOoooooooooo

The Woman From SPY

Melissa McCarthy is a good actress, but her script sense is hit or miss.

I think it has potential . . . maybe?

The Wild Librarian Says : Wheeeee!

I was offered the job!

That’s right! Starting next month,* I’ll be working on a different floor! With windows.

Sunglasses and vitamin D, here I come!

That’s not the only difference, or I wouldn’t have bothered, but it isn’t an insignificant one.  Neither is stepping away from the enclosed environs of the Archives—breathing history is tough on chronic sinusitis.**

I’ll have to work one night a week,*** travel more between branches, and trade in my personal workstation and cubicle space for a login and a couple of assigned drawers.

But the questions will be quicker and the patrons will have different interests, and most of my new duties will be my very favorite parts of library work.Wild Librarian

I will be moving around instead of waiting in the basement lower level for petitioners like the Mushroom of Wisdom.  And no one will ever ask me how to find genealogical proof that their great-great-great grandmother was born a Cherokee Princess—which is not and never has been a Real Thing™—right here in Pottawattomie territory.^  If they do, I’ll direct them to the person who replaces me.^^

And there’s a rumor I might get to select adult graphic novels.

I am overcome, y’all.

Overcome.

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*Assuming that the person who left that department for another department doesn’t want her job back after her probationary period is up.

**I can’t claim it as the cause, though—I grew up in southern Ohio and “Cincinnati Sinus” is no joke.

***I’m working one a month, now, which is why I can never remember when it is.

^Which at the time would have been approximately than 400 miles north of the nearest Cherokee settlement—give or take, as the United States spent a lot of time and resources keeping most native nations unsettled.  But that’s a rant for another time.

^^Again assuming  the person who left the ref department won’t return, bumping us all back to our original places like an Occupational Newton’s Cradle . . .

Weekend Writing Warriors: Odd Duck (Merrok)

We WriWa bannerHave a WIP, an EIP, an MS, or a published work you want to share on your blog, eight sentences at a time?

Want to sample other people’s WIPs, EIPs, MSs, or published works, eight sentences at a time?

Be a Weekend Writing Warrior!

Rules are here!

List of participants is here!

________

Or if you’re a fellow Facebook addict (we can quit any time we want to, right?),
why not check out the offerings of the Snippet Sunday gang?

________

Tom has arrived at the packleader’s house from last week,and meets someone new.

This person was supposed to be a housekeeping stock-character whose sole, original, three-line purpose was to guide Tom to and from the cells in the basement.

To my surprise, and possibly to Tom’s, she isn’t.

But she did let me put her in the same dress.

Hokkaidō wolf

The female who opened the door was an inch or two taller than me, with thick dark hair held back in a clip that couldn’t be silver and a navy blue dress that was just shy of a uniform. Her eyes were long and slanted a little—a Hokkaidō in the wolfpile somewhere, maybe—and her nose was big enough to make her face interesting instead of delicate. Her mouth was wide and full and unsmiling.

From the way her gray eyes sharpened as they observed me observing her, I didn’t dare inventory anything lower.

“Thomas Mahon,” she said, as if checking me off a list. “I’m Merrok. This way, please.”

If Susan was Rhombeck’s work spouse, than Ms. Merrok was her counterpart in the pack.

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Hokkaidō wolves were known as Ezo wolves in Japan, before they became extinct in the late 1800s; they were descended from Siberian wolves, which I might use instead, for familiarity’s sake.

Naturally (pun intended), Merrok wouldn’t be descended from the wolves themselves, but the way I have Homo Mutabilis figured, the individuals resemble both the animal and the humans from the place their ancestors evolved. Don’t ask me why, but that’s the end product.

So both of Merrok’s forms will show her Asian ancestry the same way Jackie resembles both a Panthera tigris jacksoni and also a Malaysian woman (though not at the same time).  Joly is a Transvaal werelion immigrant from Polokwane. And Hooper is a big white bruiser of European descent any way you look at him.

Tom, if you’re wondering, looks like a Muscovy drake and a bit like Joseph Gordon-Levitt, if Mr. Gordon-Levitt’s family had hailed from Central America.