Ever notice how it's the little things in life that amuse us so much? More to the point, ever notice how it's the silly little idiocies in life that amuse us more than anything else? Well, this is not as much ''the little blog that could'' as it is ''the blog that enjoys going up the down escalator in your local mall.'' Will it have anything of real importance? No, probably not. But enjoy the ride never the less!

 


The store across from our new location in the mall sells, among other things, posters. Lots and lots of posters. They're good for being reminded what movies are coming out soon, since the front of their store will always be plastered with relevant paraphenelia at least a month or two before the movie premieres. There's just one problem.

This is the face now staring at me from across the mall corridor:





Yep, now I have this pale, brooding "I'm trying not to look like David Boreanez!" pouty-lipped vampire staring at me throughout my entire shift. (I'll speak little about the rather infamous book series on which this movie is based, beyond stating that I did try reading it but gave up after 120 pages when I died of boredom as the story decided to focus on "I hate him but he's so mysterious so maybe I like him" ponderings and lots of apparently meaningful stares, instead of a plot.)

So where was I?

Oh yes. Edward.

With the Twilight movie still a month or so away, I was at one point lamenting how I'd have that ridiculous face watching my every move for way too many days. But then I realized something. All I have to do is picture this:




As this:




...and suddenly, every time I see that Twilight poster, I can't help but smile to myself. (This is Edward's 'Blue Steel.')

Labels: edward the sparkly vampire IS Derek Zoolander

posted by Phillip at 8:45 AM

 


Outside, there is heavy, wet snow falling down upon the grass.

Mel argues that no such thing is occurring, since the curtains are drawn and if she can't see it, then obviously it does not exist in her plane of reality.

In other Mel-related news, in the last day or so her Email was hacked and handed over to an apparently Beijing-based spammer who sent me (and many others) a message endorsing random electronics. I must admit that the spam itself disappointed me, since I was hoping for something more along the lines of Engrish sentences or ridiculous porn themes. You know, a spam with an opener like, "Hello! My your penis are looking wonderfull today!"

As for Mel's email, it has been reclaimed, so fear not.


.

Labels: "hello your penis are looking wonderfull today"

posted by Phillip at 9:04 PM

 
Upon the vast, sprawling virtual world that is the Internet, there is a blog that has no name. It has no recent updates. The only signs that it was once a live and active website are the decaying entries of old, spiraling-into-unfunny anecdotal memories. But the good anecdotes have long abandoned this place, and now the bad things have crawled in to claim it as their home. Somewhere amidst the dust-covered and cobweb-ridden series of tubes that make up this little bit of nowhere, an evil stirs. An evil sniffles. And an evil begins to cough, hacking rudely until it coughs up something that causes this evil to exclaim, "Oh good God, that's disgusting! Now I'm going to be suffering the aftertaste for the next hour!"

This can only mean one terrible thing. It's...




Yes indeed, when we last left this insipid--er, intrepid (and woefully behind on his blog) adventurer, it was probably still the month of September, the weather was still moderately warm and the odds are pretty good the sun was not making it a habit of having already set by the time I got off work. For better and seriously for worse, there are a multitude of reasons for this, all of which shall get their due credit in what I like to call: the rambling recap of doom!!!onesises!!1!

Flash back to roughly 3 weeks ago (as opposed to just plain flashing the general public, which these days tends to levy a hefty fine and possibly jail time for indecent exposure...even if the picnic table was consenting at the time), where our store was on the edge of moving to its new location. For those of you just joining the story in progress, and for those of you who've probably forgotten the story altogether consider it's been about 3 weeks since an update, our mall is going through changes.

Cha-Cha-Changes.

An old, giant and hard-to-find loading bay & parking area is being taken out and replaced by a new annex that will feature a swanky expanded foodcourt, connecting corridor and about 40 new stores for the mall. This is all good. The mall admittedly could use this. However, in order to create this new spot, a number of currently existing slots in the mall had to be taken out (humanely, of course). The section where our store was located happened to be one of those spots. In fact, our row of about 3-4 stores all ended up playing musical chairs inside the mall, so as to make way for an H&M store and two (as of yet unidentified) sit-down restaurants.

At the start of September, the mall had cleared out a spot for us on the other end of the mall. They informed us we had until the Tuesday after Thanksgiving to move all our stuff out of the old location. (Though opening at the new location was up to our discretion, of course.) I informed our District manager about this deadline. Twice. I informed Head Office through Emails about this deadline. Twice. My District Manager informed Head Office through phone calls and Emails about this deadline. Four to five times.

Two weeks before we had absolutely be out of our old spot, Head Office suddenly got up off its ass and decided to send someone to look at the new location to see what needed to be demolished & replaced. Way to go, Head Office. I applaud your getting on top of things. Sure, you could have had this ball rolling two full weeks ago, but you were so incompetent--I mean, utterly confident in your skills that you instead wasted two weeks.

For those of you who missed the sarcasm, that was sarcasm in the above paragraph. Sadly, sarcasm was all I could really muster at this point; all the rage was sucked right out of me because of how mind-bogglingly busy we were.

Tom the kick-ass maintenance guy worked his own ass off in order to get our store ready for us in time...and believe me, what he had to start with didn't look pretty. The predecessors to this spot tried to make the store resemble a grotto: everything covering the walls & ceiling was either a dull non-reflective metal, or a dark & light-absorbing colour. On the brightest summer afternoon, that place made you feel like it was midnight in winter. And so Tom worked his magic, swearing profusely at Head Office all the way. (It's reasons like this that I love Tom. Oh, the stories of inept upper-management brainfarts he's shared with us....)

Meanwhile, I spent perhaps far too much time in the presence of my District Manager, who pretty much camped out with us those last two weeks we had left at our (old) store. You see, the new location we now have has a few issues. Notably the size. While the store itself is tall, we've lost easily a good 4-6 feet in width and perhaps even more in depth. And our stockroom has been reduced to...well, a pair of shelves.

So yes. Lots o' crap needed to get transferred out of our store and unceremoniously deposited on other poor, unsuspecting stores. (I pity store #631 out in Hamilton somewhere. The amount of boxes we sent them probably made the manager break down into tears, or just break down.) This required me spending my shifts working like a madman to keep everything going, as I was the go-to guy for taking all the piles of "transfer to this store" crap, generating the transfer sheets and then boxing them all up.

My back aches from simply reflecting on the sad truth that we transferred out easily 70 boxes of random, heavy things.

But there was a reprieve, and it came over the Thanksgiving weekend. Through half-miracle, half me threatening to kill and eat anyone who said they couldn't work that Sunday, Mel & I had the Sunday/Monday off. We spent it out of town celebrating our 5th anniversary.

Yep. We've now been officially husband and wife for five years now, and by some miracle I haven't given Mel a reason to kill me yet. I'm just as astounded as you are, since some of the silly-assed stunts I've pulled should have incurred some level of injury, either on my part or courtesy of Mel as punishment for me being so stupid as to try said silly-assed stunts.

We stayed at a great hotel, venturing out sporadically for some shopping excursions. Most of the time we just lounged in our pleasantly spacious suite and watched the Food Network. (Speaking of, the Food Network is, at this moment, probably the only reason we'd ever decide to get cable.) This was partially due to the small and fuzzy puppy brought along for the trip. Having done the Con hotels twice now, Shady's used to hotel rooms. This time she just sulked whenever we left, and refused to leave our side whenever we returned.

The other reason we didn't run around too much was the simple fact that we were so damned tired from working on the store move. I'd been pushing myself with the transfers. And, from those of you who've seen Mel's last LJ entry, Mel had the displeasure of contending with her last days at the "thick as a whale omelette" Stratford store. She didn't really get much of a break after her last day there, since she jumped right into helping us out.

And there was much rejoicing. (Yay.)

We did, however, take full advantage of the room service and complimentary hors d'oeuvre buffet being offered by the hotel. Mmmmm...brie cheese.

Our anniversary trip was fun and relaxing...which means it was that much worse to come back on Tuesday, our final day at the old spot. Our District Manager had already stated we'd be closed Tuesday, and that was good; if she'd wanted us to stay open, I'd have probably been forced to distract her with a move ticket or three. And we only had 4-5 idiots walk up to the obviously closed front door (where it was easy to see we had less than half of anything left inside) and ask us if we were open.

Smegheads....

To our credit, we cleared out the old store by 6pm. We nabbed a number of pictures, both as we dismantled everything and after the space was emptied out. However, we need to get them off Mel's memory card and downloaded onto the computer, so those will be forthcoming. But fear not! Here are some pics to keep you satiated until then!







So where were we? Ah, yes: as of 6pm, the old store was empty. And as of 6pm, the new store looked like it had been rocked by an earthquake. Mel & I stayed for another two hours, helping to clean up the mess enough to make accessible walkways between the bunks. As a result, I missed my local voting polls by 15 friggin' minutes. Dammit. (Mel, not being an official citizen just yet, still cannot vote here. Extra dammit.)

Wednesday rolls around. We manage to drag our tired, sorry asses to the new store...only after parking near the old store and walking first to the old store, only to stare at its empty doors and ask, "Why the hell are we over here?"

Our District Manager wanted us to open as early as possible on Wednesday, which is a great idea provided you don't exist on this plane of reality. The new store still looking like hell was only part of the problem. There were added bonuses too. First off, we needed our phone line transferred from the old place to our new one; otherwise we'd only be able to do cash transactions. And second, the locks needed to be changed on our front doors.

Now for those unaware, our store door is one of those giant, metal folding doors. It resembles a monstrous folding fan in how you push it closed and pull it open. Both ends have locking mechanisms that force metal poles into holes into the ground/ceiling, anchoring it in place. We needed new locks for a couple of valid reasons.

The mall administration openly advised us to change the locks, since the three keys they had been given by the former tenants at their close did not mean that there had always been three keys for that store. There was a good chance (and thusly a high security risk) that someone still had a key that could give someone access to our store. The other reason was more petty, but just as valid. The old trio of keys had the ominous words "DO NOT DUPLICATE" engraved on them. This translates to: if we wanted any more keys, we'd have to go to the manufacturer to get spares. That is problematic, since I have 5 staffers and we all close/open the store on our own at any given time. Were we to keep the three old keys, I've have one, my other full-timer would have one, and the last key would be handed around amongst my 3 part-timers like a Nerf football. (Just without the fun squishiness.)

Anyhoo, about mid-morning, the locksmith comes to change the locks on our front door. He immediately wonders what the hell the previous tenants had been up to, since it was painfully obvious they'd fucked the locks up fantastically. (One lock was missing its rear cylinder, and the other's cylinder was busted completely.) An hour passed and the locksmith proclaimed his job done. He handed us 5 keys, all of which could be copied later if needed. Our DM thanked him and he left.

Now, Mel & I were busy working on other things at the time, so we'd had no contact with the locksmith when he left. Our DM turned to us a short time later and declared that we could now open the store and just do cash transactions. I agreed, but first I wanted to test the doors out and make certain they would lock & unlock properly.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is why you test things out beforehand.

I locked the left side of the door. Everything was fine. I then tried to unlock the left side of the door. They didn't unlock. The key was being turned around inside the cylinder, but it wasn't hitting any of the mechanisms needed to release the locks.

Oops.

I immediately told the DM about this, and we decided to try the right side too. Perhaps it was just one side that was twitchy. As we stood outside the store, the following conversation ensued:


DM: "Um...if this doesn't work, won't Mel be locked inside the store?"

Me: "Oh, she'll be fine. She can just eat my lunch while she's trapped inside."

Mel: [completely oblivious to what's about to happen to her] "Listening to the radio, la la la..."


The left side of the door was locked. And guess what? It didn't unlock! Our locksmith had gone and frigged everything up! Now you have to take into account what else makes this a comedy of errors: by this point, the Bell guy hasn't arrived to change the lines over, so we have no working phone in our store. Plus, our DM's cell phone died the day before, so she can only notify the locksmith either via mall payphone, or by using the mall admin office's phones. (Mall admin graciously let us use theirs.)

But what about Mel, you ask? What was she to do while we'd locked her inside a store that had no emergency exit in back? Oh, she was just fine. And not because I had my much inside with her.

You see, sometimes things just happen to work out in unusual ways. Remember how I'd said that the door locks had been fustigated by the previous tenants. Well, the left side had been damaged to the point that only one of the two poles could be moved. The top part of the door could be locked in place, but it was physically impossible to lock the lower part. Which means, if you pull on the door and are as ridiculously skinny as I am, you can actually slip through the open space and get inside.

So I did.

Fortunately, there was a mechanism that could unlock & split the main doors into two separate sides. This could only be done from the inside, but at least we were able to still give ourselves easy access in and out of the store. Mel hadn't even realized I'd trapped her inside by the time I rescued her. I still got a punch in the shoulder for being so cavalier about it.

An hour later, the locksmith arrived and fixed the doors he'd technically already fixed. This time, we both tested the doors out before he left again. Finally, our DM declared our new store open.

But where oh where was the Bell guy? you know, the guy who was supposed to arrive by 11am that morning? Well, he arrived at about 4pm and proceeded to do all of the following things: spend 2 hours trying to locate our phone line, nearly kill himself falling off a ladder while trying to poke his head through our ceiling tiles, and actually kill the phone & Net connections to two neighboring stores. (Now that's talent!)

For the most part, this brings the whirlwind portion of this bit o' nowhere to a close. The last week and a half has been spent tidying and organizing the store. Unfortunately for me, I pushed myself to the point of total exhaustion and for my efforts got flattened on my ass by a nasty cold. It started out in my throat, then tried to explode my sinuses like something out of a Die Hard movie. I've gone through a bottle and a half of Buckley's Complete Cold Medicine (and rediscovered my gag reflex in the process) in the meantime, and only now does the virus seem to be bending to my will.

Well, there it is.

You've been wondering what life's been like for the last month, and for me, it's been best described as: "AAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUU--ooh, anniversary!--UUUUUUGGGGHHH!!!"

But all of that has passed and things should be quieting down. They'd better. If not, I'm afraid I'm going to have to start smashing things. But before we go, I'd like to leave you with Today's Lesson: wearing a Battle Royale shirt can be hazardous to your health, especially if you wander into a store, an employee sees it and they immediately start to wax ecstatic about the series, and attempt to fondle your shirt and spend the next few minutes talking about their BR fanfics and their attempt to write a BR screenplay for North America, at least until they discovered there's already one in the works. Needless to say, I smiled politely and nodded, and slowly backed out of the doorway.

Labels: 5 years of love laughter and no pants, i can has Buckleys, moving store voodoo

posted by Phillip at 8:16 AM

 


Break out that high-end bottle of champagne you've been saving and crank up Beethoven's "Ode to Joy" (though you might want to skip ahead to about 9 minutes in, right where things get all rousing Hollywood traileresque). Heck, while you're at it, throw in the Handel's "Hallelujah" chorus and we're set.

Yes indeed, today is the very last day Mel ever has to step foot into the eighth level of hell--er, the Stratford store on a work-related basis. Once 4pm rolls around, she will be free to stroll away, whistling a pleasant tune to herself as she plots vicious revenge against the store that has been slowly driving her mad since August.

Right now bets are being taken as to how long the store lasts before it implodes under its combination of teenage dramallama/incompetence, or whenever God decides to smite it out of compassion for the human race. We'll just have to see.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have Neil Gaiman's "Graveyard Book" to read. (Which cleverly disguised its existence in the bookstore for a week by pretending to be a young adult-oriented piece of fiction, thus never appearing on the New Releases display with everything else. Cunning book though it may be, I was on to it after the 6th day...)

Labels: is this the end of luggage Shakespeare?, oh happy days

posted by Phillip at 4:42 AM

 


Sometimes, you find something on the Intertubes that is so ridiculous in all the wrong ways, it can only inspire you to add your own (ideally not-as-wrong) contribution to the silliness. I don't think I've actually posted anything resembling an actual, full-blown, "hokey smoke watch me pull a story out of my hat" tale on this little bit of nowhere before, but hey, there's a first for everything. And all things considered, this really isn't something I'm aiming to publish one day.

(But if I do, I'm entrusting someone to shout "Oh John Ringo No!" before shooting me as a public service. Please?)

A quick note beforehand: if you don't read Fandom Wank regularly, you'll probably want to read the overview that precedes the story. It gives context. And tentacles.

Otherwise you can just skip ahead and revel in...the Hot Wet Planet!!!




***
***








From:
seiberwing wrote in fandom_wank,
@ 2008-09-15 09:56:00


Entry tags: porn, rp, tentacle pr0n

Subject Heading: Dude, at least be honest about it.



Arisama is looking for writers to help him with his new roleplaying forum "Hot Wet Planet", and takes his description over to rpg.net.


The setting takes as it's starting point, ideas from a blend of "John Carter on Mars", Thrud the Barbarian's adventures in Lemuria, Robert E Howard's original Conan the Cimmerian's Hyborean World, Edgar Rice Burrough's "Pelucidar", and similar pulp adventures in Heroci Fantasy, but based a lot on the concept of a Venus-the-Jungle-Planet sort of 1950s B-grade Sci-Fi movies as if re-imagined by a bunch of perverted tentacle-monster loving Japanese ero-manga (Hentai) fans & comic book artists.

....

Please keep in mind, it's for mature/adult members, you need to be over 16 to join. It's a fantasy/SF roleplaying setting with strongly erotic elements, although the focus is on the roleplaying & adventures.

If you're only interesting in playing, the game isn't open yet, but we would like to have players ready to start together (as part of whatever group they'll be with) when the game opens up (we're planning for November, just 2 months away). As an example, the starship crew should start together as a group within the same week, so that they have a chance to play out and develop their characters for awhile before arriving on the Hot Wet Planet. There's also the native cultures - one which is rather close to typical fantasy/medieval (but with erotic twists), another which are tribal jungle savages (the game's barbarians), and a third group which are descendants from Earth colonists (whose culture has been changed dramatically by the world's strange magical & erotic energies).

A few members find this a bit worrisome, for obvious reasons. Arisama takes huge offense to this and replies vehemently that they are interrogating the text from the wrong perspective and that anyone criticizing it for being a touch sleazy is a prude. Obviously, stats such as the following are hardly pornographic.

Attr = Attractiveness, beauty, appearance. For female characters, Attr adds to Def when they are attacked with harmful intentions (such as somebody trying to kill them or injure them), but subtracts from Def when they are attacked with lustful intentions (anything from somebody grabbing a quick feel & grope, sexually molesting them as they pass by, to grabbing them with the intention of engaging in any kind of sex act).

HWPE = Hot Wet Planet Effect, which is an overall level of the Hot Wet Planet's mysterious energy influence upon the character. The higher the HWPE, also the higher the character's libido & constant sexual arousal (more than exponentially increased for each level up), but also HWPE can add to Psi for "danger-sense", and makes it less likely that the character will be attacked for the purpose of becoming a meal. On the negative side, a higher HWPE makes it more difficult to resist the Hot Wet Planet's mental & emotional effects. A higher HWPE for the guys makes them more aggressive, domineering, sexist towards the girls, more likely to fight each other, etc... A higher HWPE for the girls makes them more submissive, more shy & easily embarrassed, a lot hornier & wetter (all the time), less able to cover themselves, and overwhelms their willpower to force them to flirt & sexually expose themselves - even when they don't want to, nor intend to - and magnifies pleasurable sensations.

In addition, some unidentifiable element of the environment is changing the survivors, eroticising them, making the females constantly horny yet more shy at the same time, more youthful, more like a guy's wet-dream fantasy, and removing all their body hair from their neck to their toes. The guys get bigger dicks, muscles, a penchant for crude violence, and that sort of thing, as if the planet was turning the men into barbarian warriors.

In the background, unknown at least at first to the Offworlder survivors, the planet's higher lifeforms have a simple mass-mind that is using it's powerful psionics to mentally influence and sometimes dominate the humans in lecherous ways, having it's strongest effect on the females (who gain the benefit of being occasionally protected, & subtly forewarned about real dangers); many of the younger (or younger appearing) women discover they are incapable of wearing underwear, or any kind of pants, or even anything more covering than an indecently short tunic or mini-dress...and the effect is becoming stronger with the passing of time.

Then there are the Tentacle Monsters to contend with....the size of a small car or as large as a house, in many shapes and forms, but always having phallic tentacles and a sexual obsession with humanoid females.

But Arisama goes on and on, slinging out the insults while claiming personal attacks. Darren Mac Lennen sums the situation up perfectly (and receives some sort of awesome points for this right here):




Later, Arisama points out that it isn't ready yet, so everyone should stop complaining about it being poorly written. Bolding his:


Did I mention that the site isn't ready yet? Yes I did. You can stop right there. The editing is still ongoing. It will always be ongoing. That's how editing usually works. I edit everyone else's writing on the site too. There's a lot to edit. That it's not yet finished isn't surprising, after all I did mention that it's not yet finished. We're not planning on opening until November. Your comment is totally unfair and unwarranted. It's really no more than a personal attack.


Apparently editing after he puts it up on the intertubes is the way things really should be done, despite the fact that a) everyone else thinks this is a bad idea and b) the site itself is already up, shoddy as it looks.


The whole thing seems to be degenerating into lulz for everyone but the flailing Arisama, but at this point that's about all that can be done.

UPDATE: In a far from unexpected move, Arisama compliments rpg.net for increasing his site's google ranking. However, a quick Google search determines that it is actually the rpg.net thread that is in the topmost rankings under "Hot Wet Planet"--with this post coming in fifth. Huzzah.


Actual link can be found here:

http://www.journalfen.net/community/fandom_wank/1178951.html#cutid1







From “Fandom Wank” poster: anonyrat

I was too busy watching the constant low-level edition wars (tm) over in d20 Open to notice this! Man, I have to keep tabs on the other forums.

I’m kind of tempted to join the RP and role-play a scene where my character keeps failing to put on underwear. Over and over and over again.

Because really, what the hell could possibly cause you to be UNABLE to wear panties? Electromagnetic crotch polarization?


***

From “Fandom Wank” poster: fishies

>removing all their body hair from their neck to their toes.

I want to create a female character with a giant handlebar mustache now. All men shall swoon at the sight of her mighty ‘stache!


***

From “Fandom Wank” poster: tehrin

I officially hate this wank for making me apply Earth Logic to Tentacle Monsters

Then there are the Tentacle Monsters to contend with...the size of a small car or as large as a house, in many shapes and forms, but always having phallic tentacles and a sexual obsession with humanoid females.

Questions:
1) What shapes would tentacles be if they weren’t phallic-shaped? I’m guessing normal and jellyfish-like, but that’s real world logic which doesn’t apply to his tentacle porn fetish kink. Which leads too...

2) Given the information presented; that all the tentacle monsters on this planet have phallic-shaped tentacles and they have a sexual obsession with humanoid females, there are obviously male tentacle monsters. Would female tentacle monsters even exist on this planet? If they do, we are to assume their phallic-like (emphasis on phallic) appendages are strap-ons and that they are all lesbians because of all tentacle monsters in this world have an obsession with humanoid females.

3)Would male tentacle monsters even be interested in female tentacle monsters? The author stresses the lust for humanoid females as an obsession, so I am concluding that they probably would not. Therefore, where do baby tentacle monsters come from?

Ergo, I must conclude that bisexual and heterosexual female or male tentacle monsters do not exist, male tentacle monsters do not have an interest in possible female tentacle monsters. So, therefore the species has to be a hybrid species, in order to exist in this fantasy world, and thus the product of tentacle monster/humanoid relations.

WAT THE FLIPPITY FUCK?!?









A silly-assed ficlet by: His lordship Chaos

Based on the obviously-not-porn SciFi RPG “Hot Wet Planet” created by: Asisama.
And wanked by: Fandom Wank
Special distinction, love and credit due: Darren Mac Lennen, anonyrat, fishes & tehrin.

With an adoring shout-out to Glempf of “Ghastly’s Ghastly Comic.”


On the Hot Wet Planet, many strange things abounded. Many hot, strange things. Hot, wet and strange things. But not pornographic things, oh most certainly not. That was an easy mistake for an amateur to make if they cast their untrained eyes into the wild jungles of this unusual planet. Certainly there were many scantily clad females parading about in an oversexed manner. And, granted, all the men were no longer forced to hide their penis inferiority complexes by buying shiny sports cars. Oh yes, and there were more nipples on display than you’d find in a baby bottle manufacturing plant.

But there was nothing pornographic about any of this.

Not even the rampant sex was pornographic.

Again, it might be difficult for a casual observer to grasp this concept, but naturally that is because a casual observer is making the glaring mistake of using Earth logic. But these hot and wet and strange things aren’t happening on Earth, are they? No, Sir, this is the Hot Wet Planet! And where there is Hot Wet Planet-on-Planet action, so too must Hot Wet Planet Logic be used!

Today’s story begins in the depths of the hot wet jungles, where a group of alien tentacle monsters had gathered together for an important--nay, momentous task. They had gathered to bear witness to hot lesbian sex. And as everyone in the Internet meme communities should know by now, by “sex” we mean “tea.” (Which was both hot and wet, but definitely not pornographic…and why are you suddenly looking so disappointed?)

The tea in question was being enjoyed amidst a rousing game of poker. Indeed, on the Hot Wet Planet, tea and poker had evolved amongst the tentacle monsters into a part of their national identity. The four of them sat around the sizeable poker table, their long, undulating tendrils carefully grasping their small, ceramic cups of tea and saucers.

“Now then,” said one of the tentacle monsters whose helpful nametag identified himself as Hello, My Name Is Murfle-Flurgen. He paused to set down his teacup and then used another tentacle to adjust his eye monocle. “I must kindly disagree with you, Sir. I refuse to believe that fate, as you so describe, has dictated that events happen apriori, thus negating any opportunity for free will or even random chance. This can only bring me to the inevitable conclusion that you must be trying to deal me all the bad cards!”

The tentacle monster sitting across from him, clad in his dealer’s hat and a swanky black necktie, harrumphed and waved a dismissive tentacle at the claim. “On the contrary, you do me disrespect by claiming that fate is nothing more than playing the most favourable of odds,” said the dealer, who was known by the others as Blurfmep. “Besides it’s your own damned fault for trying to bluff with a pair of two’s.”

“And I would have won too,” stated Murfle-Flurgen, “had it not been for those meddling hairless mammals. I swear my entire flagellum involuntarily went out of its way to smack them on the hindquarters as they ran on by.”

“Most peculiar,” agreed Blurfmep. “I still have yet to understand just how it is our flagellum are irresistibly attracted to their flesh.”

“Oh, hadn’t you guessed?” the third tentacle monster remarked. His name was Akhrumnar (from the lower Wet side, for those of you not following this story with the helpful HWP Coles Notes), and he wore a commemorative ‘Cthulhu For President’ button. “It’s the carbon base in their bodies. Our own cellular physiology is magnetically attracted to it.”

“Well, there you have it,” said Murfle-Flurgen. “This certainly explains why I had to chain my appendages down to stop them from involuntarily spanking that mammal-girl.”

The fourth and final tentacle monster, who went by the name of Brad, was significantly smaller when compared to the others, despite his large glaring eyestalk and twitching flagellum. He sat hunched over his chair, scrutinizing the five cards being held aloft by a tendril. He let out a rumbling that sounded like, “Ph’ugha iia shubnigurath.”

Akhrumnar’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Now what exactly was that supposed to be?”

“Some rather disparaging remarks about your mother,” said Murfle-Flurgen. “And he wants one card.”

Blurfmep passed Brad a card. “How exactly can you understand that anyways?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised at what strange, irrational things I am intimate with,” said Murfle-Flurgen.

“Try me.”

“When no one is looking, you like slingshotting the underwear left behind by all those hairless mammal-girls, just to see how far they’ll go.”

Blurfmep tilted all of his eyestocks to one side. “And what does that have to do with strange, irrational things?”

“Nothing. I just felt like pointing it out.”

“I’ll have you know I was testing the underwear in an effort to better comprehend by the mammal-girls find it so difficult to keep them on. My associate's current theory involves electromagnetic crotch polarization. Alas, so far none of our studies have been conclusive.”

“You also hit me in the murbleflaps with one this morning,” Akhrumnar said.

“Did I? Oh, terribly sorry.”

“Think nothing of it. Now who’s round is this?”

Blurfmep tossed down two cards, and took another two from the deck for himself. “Bad enough those hairless mammals go gallivanting about like that, leaving their litter everywhere, but did you see the scandalous sign they posted up in my surfboard shop yesterday? Apparently, some of them have an anal-surfboard fetish.”

The other tentacle monsters gasped and murmured amongst themselves.

Brad stiffened, quite possibly insulted by the thoroughly scandalous topic, and warbled out, “Ph’ugha! Ia R’lyeh! Ftagn!”

“Now that,” remarked Murfle-Flurgen, “was definitely a disparaging remark about your mother.”

“Why, I must confess astonishment at your claim, Sir!” Blurfmep exclaimed, throwing his cards facedown onto the poker table. “Our very asexual physiology negates any such issue of gender. My progenitor simply divided into six smaller versions, of which I was but one.”

“True,” said Akhrumnar, “but that cannot escape the fact that the person writing this is referring to us all by gender-specific pronouns and possessives.”

Murfle-Flurgen immediately thwacked him upside the back of the murbleflaps for being an idiot and pointing out such a glaring hole in the plot.

“Well, it’s true,” Akhrumnar persisted. “And besides, our mistaken interest in the mammal-girls only is leading to what I fear are some misconstrued theories about our species as a whole. I’ve heard talk amongst some of the mammals that apparently, if we are gender specific, male tentacle monsters do not have an interest in possibly female tentacle monsters. Thusly, by their reasoning our species has to be a hybrid courtesy of tentacle/mammal relations.”

All the tentacle monsters groaned and tried to wave aside the horrid mental images.

“Heaven help us if the male-type mammals think this,” said Murfle-Flurgen. “They’ll copulate with anything that moves provided they think it’s related to their species.”

The quartet paused as one of their tentacled associates glorped past them, desperately trying to free himself from a dozen or so muscular and surprisingly well-oiled men as they attempted to pleasure themselves on his various limbs.

“A little help here!” the hapless monster shouted at them.

“N’gah-Kthun,” sighed Brad, shaking his numerous eyestalks.

The other three tentacle monsters mumbled in agreement and resumed their rousing game of poker. And for a short time they were able to carry on in peace, enjoying their tea/hot lesbian sex between rounds of cards and debating whether or not, if there were such a thing as female tentacle monsters, would their phallic-like appendages actually be strap-ons? (And if so, would they have remote controlled vibrating functions and blinking lights?)

Unfortunately, since this story did not get more than 5 reviews since being posted on FF.Net, we’ll have to skip right over that part and cut to the big finish!

The trouble began when Akhrumnar looked up from his full house of aces and fives. He scowled at what he saw and discreetly nudged Murfle-Flurgen. “Hey, that hairless mammal-girl is back again.”

The tentacle monsters straightened up and glanced over their chairs. Standing directly behind Murfle-Flurgen was one of the human females they had regularly seen around their villa in recent days. Naturally this could only end in disaster, if last night’s “private junior college tentacle monsters’ locker room” incident was any indication of what would happen whenever she appeared.




The most peculiar aspect about her was that the only hair she sported on her naked body was found above her neckline. She clasped her hands in front of her chest, deliberately pushing her bosom out towards Murfle-Flurgen. She smiled shyly at him and in a not so coy voice asked, “Can I have a spanking?”

Needless to say, Murfle-Flurgen was terrible affronted. “What?” he exclaimed. “No, most certainly not! Can’t you see I’m busy here?”

The girl batted her eyes and struck a coy, sexy pose. “Please?”

“No.”

“Just a little slap on the bottom?”

“No!!” Murfle-Flurgen shouted, nearly flinging his cards into the air.

“I like her,” Akhrumnar said aside to Brad.

Brad stared at him in bewilderment. “Ftagn?”

“What?” Akhrumnar said. “I have a thing for handlebar moustaches, that’s all. And she’s sporting a rather fetching one.”

Murfle-Flurgen simply rolled his eyestalks and moved his chair to ensure his back was directly in front of the mammal-girl. “Might we please continue with our game?” he said to the others, and picked up his teacup. “Just ignore her and she’ll wander off to find something else to fellatiate.”

“Are you absolutely certain?” asked Blurfmep.

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

Blurfmep gestured with one of his tentacles. “Because she’s molesting your chair.”

At the risk of stating the obvious, Murfle-Flurgen promptly freaked, spitting out his mouthful of tea mid-sip. So shocked and appalled was he that his monocle popped right off his eyestalk, bounced across the table and right into the bowl of spinach dip. Brad immediately scooped the monocle out of the dip and ate it. (Don’t ask.)

All this did nothing to stop the young lass from continuing to violate their furniture. Murfle-Flurgen’s chair rattled so impressively that he was forced to turn around and address her directly: “Dammit, mammal, this chair is antique! Stop rubbing your disturbingly hairless crotch all over it!”

The girl looked at him with an optimistic smile. “I’ll stop if you agree to spank me.”

“What is it with you creatures and getting smacked on your posteriors?” Murfle-Flurgen exclaimed. “Is it a defect hard-wired into your genetic code? Can we not be left in peace for a single day without being propositioned for a game of grab-ass?”

“I told you, blame our biology’s innate magnetism,” said Akhrumnar.

Murfle-Flurgen glared at him with a random eyestalk. “You’re not helping.”

“So,” ventured the human female. “Maybe I’ll get a spanking?”

Murfle-Flurgen grumbled in deep irritation and tried to resist from taking his tentacles, wrapping them around her neck and throttling her. “Maybe,” he said, a forced smile on his face, “if you scamper off and leave me alone for a while.”

The girl peered over at his poker hand. “Will you do it after you beat everyone with your royal flush?”

All the other tentacle monsters groaned in exasperation and threw down their cards. “Fold!” they chorused.

Murfle-Flurgen grumbled as he stared down at the card table, muttering some rather choice words that can’t exactly be repeated here in English or Tentacleese. (And by no means should that word cause you to immediately think of John Cleese as a tentacle monster.) Very slowly, one of Murfle-Flurgen’s eyestalks swiveled back to the girl.

She grinned at him. “Now can I have my spanking? I earned it, right?”

“I loathe your species,” Murfle-Flurgen told her.













His lordship Chaos would like to once again thank:


Arisama, for ensuring that no porn ever transpired on the Hot Wet Planet. (For your tireless efforts, we salute you!)

Fandom Wank, for giving us all equal parts win, LOL and brain bleach: http://www.journalfen.net/community/fandom_wank/

Seiberwing, for bringing the Hot Wet Planet to the Hot Wank Planet.

Darren Mac Lennen, for what could quite possibly be the funniest analogy ever conceived, involving surfboards or otherwise.

Anonyrat, for advancing the field of Theoretical Research of Electromagnetic Crotch Polarization.

Fishes, for giving us some much-needed handlebar moustache love.

Tehrin, for daring to translate Hot Wet Planet logic into Earth logic and not having an exploded brain to show for it.

Uncle Ghastly & Glempf, for proving that tentacle monsters are people too. Check out Ghastly’s Ghastly comic at: www.ghastlycomic.com



--His lordship Chaos. (September 30, 2008)

Labels: Vive le Hot Wet Planet

posted by Phillip at 12:30 AM