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Build your opponent a golden bridge to retreat across.
Sun Tzu, Art of War
Everything was for tomorrow, but tomorrow never came. The present was only a bridge and on this bridge they are still groaning, as the world groans, and not one idiot ever thinks of blowing up the bridge.
Henry Miller, Tropic of Capricorn
I was wrong! Blow the bridge! Blow the fucking bridge!
Tugg Speedman, Tropic Thunder
Hello again GME Gang! It’s been a while since I last ranted at you, but I know we’ve been in some very good hands here at WSB with all the great DD folks have posted over the past few weeks. So no need for CPT Hubbard to go for 11 again on the Thumbscroll Dial (until today, that is). I’ve enjoyed a lot of these posts very much, so thank you on behalf of myself and the attention-deficient Rocket Children for continuing to deliver that 100% Chaff-Free GME-grade Wheat at such a feverish clip.
Now, I am going to get to Hong Kong’s Lamest Outlaw and his disconcertingly vacant eyes here shortly. But first I want to take you on a journey back to Christmas Eve, in the year of our lord 2020—a heady time in all our lives. We were all so young and innocent then, weren’t we? Fresh off the run up to 22. Blissfully oblivious that we were living in the last moments where the question What is The War of 1812? was the only acceptable Jeopardy question for the answer: The Last Time the Goddamn U.S. Capitol Was Stormed. This was also before we all became irresponsibly overleveraged in Cathie Wood’s Ornamental Gourds ETF. It was a wondrous, confusing time.
But before we get too off topic, let’s all hop in my 1985 DeLorean (purchased with proceeds from my Jan 15 calls – thanks RC!), fire up the ol’ Flux Capacitor, and get that shit to 88 because something happened that evening that is Worth Pondering—particularly in light of recent events. And just as a friendly reminder: even though you’re going back in time in a DeLorean, no one here has to deviate funds away from GME shares to Save the Clock Tower and you are under no obligation to fulfill a scenario where you wind up making out with your Mom (unless your Mom is Cathie Wood like mine—in which case maybe just some quick over-the-clothes stuff).
On the Subject of How It Once ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas
So what in the holy fuck happened on the night before Christmas, Captain? Well, while all you Gentiles were sleeping soundly after lying to your children about benign home intruders and before gorging yourself on the teat of late-stage capitalism, me and the rest of the Chosen People were up late eating Chinese food and thinking about tendies (self-hating Jew Joke! Ba-zing!). But then: when out on the electric twitter machine there arose such a clatter, I sprang to my phone to see what was the matter. And what to my wondering eyes did appear, a mysterious tweet from a Rich-Ass Viking who had a lot of fucking interesting things to say about this whole GME situation that’s what.
This tweet, buried as a reply to a tweet sent by Mr. Rod Alzmann (@RodAlzmann or u/Uberkikz11), simply said: “Merry Christmas. Shhh.” But it included this screen shot:
[**Image Deleted Due to the Mods - check the link below where someone transcribed it - I'll try to add later**]
Now, this tweet to Rod, sent late at night and likely after a strong Mead or three, was very promptly deleted. But your intrepid cub reporter saw this here tweet that night with his own two eyes—seeing as I am a degenerate GME addict and devoted follower of Mr. Rod Alzmann (Hi Rod!). And I took screenshots, of course, like any responsible records custodian might. And so did the dude who wrote a somewhat-overlooked WSB post on this, which included the most pertinent text of the message if you are having trouble reading it here:
https://www.reddit.com/wallstreetbets/comments/kk0omp/christmas_miracle_gamergate_2020_gme_shorts/
Now, what are we to make of this? At the time, I thought it was very interesting. But I did not give it too much attention seeing as how the internet is overcrowded with anonymous weirdos claiming to know more than they do about all sorts of subjects (and now I feel your judging eyes…). Also, there was some very good commentary in that WSB post from some sharp folks about the screenshot author’s questionable use of the shorthand PE/IB—given that private equity and investment banks wouldn’t apparently be involved in a behind-the-scenes transaction with the short funds like what was being discussed there (don’t ask me, I just string together silly words here). But maybe you poke around his Twitter a bit and see for yourself.
Still, plausibility assessments based on preferred nomenclature aside, it seemed to me that some version of that conversation had to be taking place behind the scenes in a situation like this—given the batshit insane short interest, the funds supposedly involved, and the rapid rise in SP coinciding with RC’s share accumulation, December 21st amended 13D filing, and new status as a GME Insider and Board member (just love saying all that in a row, don’t you?).
So the Viking’s screenshot tweet, and the very likely possibility that shorts are in so deep that they’re attempting to negotiate peace with large shareholders behind the scenes, stuck in my tiny little baby brain as a pretty plausible set of scenarios. And from the look of it, it seems like some funds were at least willing to discuss offering these shorts a Golden Bridge away from Certain Fucking Destruction on the open market. And if the words on the screenshot are at all aligned with reality, these short funds have no good options.
Yet it seems like they are still playing hardball to negotiate the carat on this generous bridge offer they’re getting. Why? Maybe they’ve been getting high on their own supply for so long and they don’t know how to see this situation for what it is. Who knows? Maybe there is no Ryan Cohen and we’re all living in a simulation. But if the recent low-rent anti-GME articles and market manipulation efforts we’re seeing are any indication, these overleveraged short fuckers seem to think they’re going to be able to spin out of this hold and drive the SP back down to even smaller peanuts than it’s at now by sheer force of will (and some deployment of well-honed tricks of the trade amirite?) to emerge unscathed. Or even victorious? I dunno—it’s their delusional fantasy sequence.
But do you know what this scenario reminds me of? And this is just coming to me so please bear with me as I’m not showing this to my editor before we print (I haven’t seen this movie in ages – don’t know what made me think of this!). Fuck it, I’m just gonna start riffing here. The shorts trying to thread this needle, against all odds and logic and common sense, reminds me of that hilarious scene in Dumb and Dumber where haplessly delusional Jim Carrey thinks he has a chance with Mary Samsonite Swanson. But the scene is funny because he really doesn’t. Have any chance. At all.
Now, I know this is a 1990s movie originally released on VHS that we haven’t seen it or even seen it referenced in ages. But now that you’re thinking of it again after all this time, doesn’t it remind you of this too? I know, I get it: You’d have to have fucking peanuts for brains for it not to.
(https://twitter.com/ryancohen/status/1350877969816956934?s=20)
On the Subject of the Continued Internet Bumbling of Mr. Justin Dopierala
Now that screenshot came to mind this past week when something kind of weird happened while we were all enjoying our quick rocket ship ride. And yes, we are briefly going to talk again about Seeking Alpha’s second finest pro-GME author (always been more of a Dmitriy man myself) and recurring CPT Hubbard character, Justin Dopierala (and no, Angela, I do not want to have like 10,000 of his babies).
Last Thursday, after we were all virtually high-fiving one another and counting our future Lambos, Mr. Justin Dopierala, head of Domo Capital and longstanding uber-bull GME shareholder and author at Seeking Alpha (last seen arguing pithily with our own Rod Alzmann about the conservative nature of Rod’s holiday earnings projections. Hi again Rod!), made it known that he sold all of Domo Capital’s 500,000 shares for around $42.50—at the very top of the run up last Thursday morning.
Now, Domo Capital’s business decisions are none of my goddamn business. And there are plenty of market opportunities right now. Shit, I hear there is even a new Cathie Wood Gourd ETF coming online soon that people are really excited about and that I’m sure Justin’s clients would find intriguing. But Domo’s decision to sell seemed curious given a few things: (1) on Wednesday, when the rocket is mid-flight, he got a twitter follow from Gabe Plotkin, head of Melvin Capital, which he promptly tweeted about with a “get a load of this fuckin’ guy” vibe (oh the sweet, intoxicating arrogance of tendie victory, I too love it so); (2) he had also tweeted that day comparing GME’s rise to Apron’s short squeeze that lasted 4 days—where he also stressed to his followers that Apron had a much lower SI than GME; and (3) he then promptly deleted all of these tweets and almost everything else GME-related on Thursday after apparently introducing 500,000 shares of liquidity into the height of a stressed market up and through the Thursday reversal and down into his own personal tendie town.
Now, after seeing all this, I mouthed off a bit to Justin on the electric twitter machine because that’s kind of my thing. And if you are familiar with my prior ramblings, you know that he and I go way back. In response, Justin talked a bit of shit about your intrepid cub reporter here in a comment on Dimitry Kozin’s October 21, 2020 article about a possible sony revenue share deal or something, the comment section of which has become the preferred SA water cooler over there. (And I can’t link that because Thems The Rulez). And Justin hurt my little feelings a bit with his very sharp denial. And by all means have at it over there to check out his comment about why he sold if you give a shit. That is if Justin hasn’t deleted it yet. Free country and all.
But to summarize, on the subject of treacherous coordination with Melvin Capital, Justin said he would not could not in a boat and he would not could not with a goat. And I for one believe him. And do you know why? Because even though Justin seems like a very smart guy in some ways, he’s also a well-known internet bumbler who blurts out things to his internet friends that a person with better self-control would keep to themselves. And so I do not think he is capable of pulling that off or keeping a secret like that. Also: he said he didn’t so I am more than willing to give someone the benefit of any doubt in that area and you should too. I think we keep Hanlon’s razor firmly in mind here about never attributing to malice that which is explained by stupidity. That is unless, of course, you’re Andrew Left and you’re actually trying to convince people that you didn’t realize there was a US presidential inauguration planned for the same time you announced your Super Important TeeVee Yammerfest ‘21 about GME not being a good candidate for an imminent short squeeze no way no how not if my name isn’t Andrew Left short seller expert extraordinaire and Hong Kong’s Most Misunderstood Ethically-Minded Businessman. You can ascribe the fuck out of malice to that one.
No, even though I really have no idea, I think the most likely thing that happened there was that Gabe Plotkin, Master of the Universe, Head of Melvin Capital, and Acolyte of Perennial Most Ethical Business Man MVP candidate, Steven Cohen—got into Justin’s head when Plotkin followed him on twitter during the 57% (at one point 94%) day last Wednesday and then Justin got a bit chippy about it.
And this is the real reason I’m bringing this up.
Because I honestly care very little about the Nervous Investing Habits of the Wisconsin hedge fund voted most likely to prompt a Mr. Roboto reference. No: I think that Gabe Plotkin sent a message with that follow. Without even ever having to say it directly. And I think that after GME’s huge run and getting a little overexcited while working the twitter machine, Justin maybe had a chance to relax with a warm glass of milk that night and reflect on that message. Which I believe was: I’m watching you, motherfucker. And the only reason I’m paying any attention to some shitstain Wisconsin pseudo-fund on a day like today when I am getting my ass fucking torched is because I want you to know that if this GME shit blows up on me, I’m going to fuck your ass up. I will remember the name Domo Capital forevermore. And when you least expect me, I’ll be there. Now: your move, motherfucker.
And once I realized what might have happened there, that made me feel kinda bad for Justin if he felt that way. Definitely a puss move because fuck you Plotkin I drink your fucking milkshake, right? But bad because that’s a mean message for a business colleague to send, Gabriel. Shame on you if that's how you roll like a big New York bully and scaring our poor Justin like that. And if you just wanted to follow him to shoot the shit or swap listicles and Star Wars Prequel memes with a respected contemporary—even in the very midst of getting fucking annihilated while short GME—well Justin has a totally different account for that and he’s not allowed to access it during work hours.
On The Likelihood That The Most Heavily Shorted Stock in History Is Not Being Subject to Continued Market Manipulation When A Steve Cohen Acolyte Is Losing His Fucking Shirt
Have you heard about Steve Fucking Cohen? The guy who looks like he’s tip top of the list of the premier Hollywood casting agency’s rolodex for Saddest Dipshit Still At the Strip Club After Everyone Else Has Already Gone Home? I’m sorry, that’s mean and my mother told me to always be kind to the truly hideous looking because they’re probably still beautiful on the inside (spoiler alert: he’s not!).
Get a load of this guy:
https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2014-01-02/why-sac-capitals-steven-cohen-isnt-in-jail
https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/business/story/2020-09-02/controversial-hedge-fund-billionaire-steven-cohen-takes-on-hollywood
https://www.marketwatch.com/story/steven-a-cohen-among-the-million-dollar-donors-to-trump-inauguration-2017-04-19
https://www.vanityfair.com/news/2016/11/steve-cohen-trump
https://nypost.com/2015/06/17/billionaire-steve-cohen-bros-out-with-guy-fieri/
Are you back? I’ve missed you. That was scary, wasn’t it? But allow me to TL/DR all that for you who decided to avoid all that unpleasantness: the dude just has all this bad luck and keeps finding himself into these really awkward situations where someone could potentially question his commitment to ethical business and life practices as well as adherence to the laws of the United States and it’s just not fair and nothing’s fair and Nice Guy Steve Cohen Is The Victim Here So Just Stop Right There Mister I See What You’re Doing. He's also bros with Guy Fieri. Cool.
But why am I talking about a guy who would so clearly pass Billy Madison’s Final Question about Business Ethics without even breaking a sweat?
Because Steve Cohen once had a young Ace Protegee that he loved very much. With the name of an Archangel, so tender and pure. And one day this young man decided he wanted to Prove Himself and Leave Steve’s Nest. And thus was born Melvin Capital, seeded financially by Steve Cohen but named after famed Crooner Melvin H. Tormé, which Gabe’s esteemed mentor Steve would play in his office, over and over, all those years ago.
Now let’s fast forward a bit because I’m boring myself with all that fucking Cohen reading (the bad Cohen—don’t you dare get anyone confused here). As I was saying: Gabe Plotkin, head of Melvin Capital, has by all accounts gotten himself into a bit of a pickle here being so deeply short GME. Lots of people have analyzed and overanalyzed it, and I’m not going to do it again here; that dead horse is well and truly beaten. But to bottom line it: we’re all just staring down what is essentially an unprecedented math problem that will, at some point, resolve itself. And if it revolves itself in favor of the Good Guys, then the Bad Guys will lose a Fuck-ton of Money. That’s your money block quote, WSJ, so fuck off and stop calling me.
Now: picture yourself as a Steve Cohen acolyte that just bought a $44M Miami Compound and who cannot stop talking about how co-owning the Charlotte Hornets is worth it just for the courtsides alone bro once basketball is a thing again and so what if Michael Jordan keeps calling him Gary it’s close enough. Are you feeling the most financially secure that you have ever felt in your young rich life right about now? Or might you be a wee bit worried that you’ve pursued an investment thesis so reckless, so irrationally and intentionally destructive of equity, that even Melvin H. Tormé himself must be rolling in his fucking grave that you would ever dare put at risk your ability to continue being Michael Jordan’s Gary?
And so here is when I again link my good buddy Jim Cramer’s Great Unveiling of the Tactics Deployed by Short Sellers hoping to change the narrative and construct a “new truth” to suppress the SP in the face of, oh, let’s just say: a very promising turnaround story in a high-growth industry by an e-Commerce Canadian Genius who does not fuck around and who knows what he’s fucking doing and aims to sell more and better video games experiences to crackhead video gamers and there’s a million things he wants to do but just you wait, just you wait.
Is this plot that hard to follow?
And I’ll also say this: I know fuck-all about monitoring order flows or how funds continue to create synthetic shares to short shit into oblivion. But I’m just stepping back and thinking of the broader narrative and tactics on this. Spit-balling here again—bear with me. Now, if you were massively short a security while paying out your ass in borrowing fees for the privilege of entering the most crowded short trade in the market and you’re now opposite a massive business turnaround story, Ryan Cohen, numerous institutions, funds, retail whales, Norwegian HNW Freemason Consortiums, and the energy behind the Finest Rocket Children Ever to Grace Planet Fucking Earth—and you’re taking it in the ass week after week here—Do you then play this straight? Do you set aside all of these illegal and deceptive short tactics Jim Cramer candidly outlines in that video even though they’re impossible to enforce and are in fact not enforced? That Jim basically says you’d be professionally negligent if you were short and didn’t do this shit because fuck it whosgonnastopyou? And now you fucked up and that steamroller is barreling down upon you and there are all these things you could theoretically do try to get yourself out of this jam if you were That Kind of Person? Do you set this all aside and, at least in Jim’s view, tie one hand behind your precious ethical back? On the most heavily shorted stock off all time where you are bleeding Real Life Big-Boy Money? Just buying and selling you know, just a job, honest living, nothing much to it, sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, can't get too carried away with it.
Or is it something a little bit fucking different than that?
I don’t know. I’m not in the industry myself. And I would never accuse anyone of doing anything so clearly contrary to the values upon which their professional career as Master of the Universe was built. So Gabe: chill. Don’t follow me or something on twitter man, since for all I know that’s Plotkinese for I Hope You Don’t Mind Sleeping With This Severed Horse Head in Your Bed Motherfucker. It’s just money, dude. You seem pretty well taken care of. But man would I be sweating if I were short right now staring down the barrel of your new neighbor Ryan Cohen’s whims and patience and polite Canadian manners and ambiguous emojis that we all lose our shit for. I mean, fuck man: are you ok? Don’t forget to exercise and eat well during all this. Maybe switch to green tea or something. And remember: you’ll always—always—be Michael Jordan’s Gary.
But here is where we return to our good friend Andrew Left from Citron Research.
Do you remember the excitement you felt this past weekend? I’ve never seen WSB so jacked. People were coming out hot on Tuesday—an uptick day! The new phone book’s here! The new phone book's here! What luck to be free of Gary’s tomfoolery for one fine day. And then GME spiked right away—reaching a high of over $45 that morning.
But then something happened. We all know what it was. But here is where any SEC lookie-loos need to close those Pornhub links and pay closer attention. Because in the moments before the Citron tweet that morning about Andy’s upcoming BuzzFeed Listicle call on Why GME is Scary Investment GRRRR, total short shares available dropped from 1.2M to 0. And a $300K put bet was placed on a weekly with a strike price well over 10% out of the money at the very moment that GME’s price was accelerating rapidly. (H/t u/FatAspirations). That’s some WSB-level shit right there.
And yet they pull it off! GME immediately shoots down nearly 30% intraday, and eventually climbing abck up above 10%, making us all feel a little weird and like ungrateful millennial brats for feeling so shitty about a 10% day. But we all know what fucking happened, now don’t we?
So what can we say about ol’ Andy? Now, many of you know Andy as the dumbshit who shorted TSLA until he was ground into little bits of dumb dumb dust and made to look ever so foolish over and over again until he finally cried drunk uncle and flipped to being long TSLA and now he’s cool to you or whatever. Or you might know him as the guy who puts out really shoddy research that often, by pure happenstance, drives a new narrative to control the orderflow and SP on a WSB-beloved security like PLTR? You know the guy I’m talking about. Once in hot pursuit by Hong Kong fuzz, an International Man of Obviousness with a face that says: why yes, I will have another vodka tonic thankyouverymuch. That’s him.
Well, just like future call-back candidate for the role of Frightened Inmate #2, Mr. Steve Cohen, Andy is also but a Caveman—frightened and confused by your modern concepts of “ethics” and “rules.” No! No!—He’s a straight shooter! Devoted to rooting out obvious frauds, like Lukin Coffee and TSLA (Do not fuck with Elon or my Hot Mom’s ETF, Andy). And like the aspirations of Antoine Bugle Boy when he entered the blue jeans market, Andy saw an overcrowded short trade here based on an overly simplistic and obsolete short thesis about GME and said: “Me Too!” And as this thing is ripping to the stratosphere, Andy starts ringing his dumb dumb twitter bell and saying hear ye, hear ye—Inauguration Day and time it shall be for all my Big Brain thoughts about GME!
Nothing weird about that. No sir.
So Andy Citron or whatever the fuck his name is will be putting out some dumbshit video or something today in what seems to be a pretty clear attempt to scare my poor Rocket Children and get those pesky computers to high frequency this shit to drive the SP down to more acceptable loss levels (cause let’s be honest: they’re still taking a fucking bath here) for Mel Tormé’s namesake hedgefund and all the other cretins that are dug into short position here. And they’re gonna try to scare ya’ with the color red! And they know that no one here likes the color red.
But do see what’s going on here and who we’re dealing with. This really ain’t rocket science, Rocket Children. The dude actually tried to claim he forgot about the Inauguration. In 2021. He has not been in a coma, to the best of my knowledge. But you do look a little bleary eyed, Andy. Must have been all that staying up super late working on those last few bullet points to fill out the powerpoint on that GME listicle of yours, eh sport?
Conclusion: On the Subject of Patience and The Arc of The Universe Bending Toward Ryan Fucking Cohen
In my youth there was a period of time where I went out on boats that would drop crates into the waters of the Arctic. Bundled inside them were raw pieces of meat. In the coming days the boats would head back out to the frigid seas, hook the floats bobbing upon the waters, and pull the crates up. Packed inside would be many crabs. They were so delicious & made a good price at market. The difference between the crate that was empty and the create full of bounty was a mystery even the great physicist Erwin Schrödinger pondered at much length.
But the hearty fishermen of my youth already knew the answer long ago. Why did the trap fill up? Time. In time, all traps fill. In time, all things pondered shall be revealed.
--The Fucking Viking, That’s Who
Now look, you all know I have a soft spot for Ryan Cohen. Hell, we all do. He’s a good dude. And the man has played this flawlessly so far. He really has. The fact that we are all sitting here with Ryan Cohen having successfully negotiated three seats on the Board—a bloodless coup as my man Rod Alzmann says—here in January? It’s amazing. His vision for GME is dialed-the-fuck in and extremely exciting. This misunderstood business is on the threshold of an exciting turnaround with Ryan Cohen at the helm. And though I was very much looking forward to the potential repercussions of a vote being called at the annual meeting and what that might mean for the short-term share price, this result is infinitely better. Whatever their motivations, that Board and George Sherman saw the writing on the wall here and accepted the Golden Bridge that Ryan offered them. And Ryan Cohen has done everything he’s set out to do here. And he’s clearly been having fun while doing it. Read up on the guy at some point if you haven’t–there’s lots of good DD out there on him, obviously. And while you’re reading and thinking about Ryan Cohen, think also about guys like Steve Cohen (no fucking relation) and Gabe Plotkin and Andy Left and how lucky we are that we get to roll with RC against that motley crew of fuckwads.
And do you know what? I’m guessing that RC, and maybe even the funds being discussed in that screenshot, have been very patient with Mr. Plotkin et al in recent weeks. You don’t go around bankrupting hedge funds willy nilly, you know--bad form and all that old chap. People tend to remember that. And guys like Steve Cohen and Gabe Plotkin seem like they play for keeps. So now you try to build them a Golden Bridge to cross—maybe not their preferred route of travel, but could be worse and all that, right guys? But for whatever reason it seems like the natural instinct here on the short side is fight over flight. And these short FUD tactics are getting increasingly ridiculous to help slow down the inevitable march toward the detonator right next to that bridge. So relax everyone! And let’s not fool ourselves: All those Masters of the Universes are well aware of the math problem they’re all facing here and they must have a vague grasp of the odds that this goes off in one direction over the other. And what that could mean for the size of their money pits and how many sports teams they can buy this year. Shit, I assume Steve Cohen is counseling his young acolyte about how many sads he himself felt deep down in his man heart on that fateful day in 2008 when he lost $250M on a short when Volkswagon squeezed to infinity—a sadness that he will continue to draw on when his agent finally finds him a role that calls for it.
But my point is: the longs here can afford to be patient and let this play out. When this thing moves, the Viking’s Schrödinger crabs will only be in one pot. And I’m guessing that pot is the one being held by the guy who is actually in total control here: Ryan Goddamn Cohen.
So enjoy the show today. If you’re anything like me, you’re feeling relaxed after gorging yourself on lucky space peanuts all week.(https://solarsystem.nasa.gov/news/10022/lucky-peanuts/)
And though these silly wabbits with their cumbersome FUD efforts can get a bit tiresome, I’m still very much enjoying this GME show at this point and almost do not want it to end—what with all these Sorkin-esque twists and turns and my Cohen Tweet Decorder Ring getting all this sweet action.
But just remember who Ryan Cohen is, what he cares about, and what, so far, he has told us he intends to do here. And then you might realize, as I have, that Ryan Cohen has had the Gray’s Sports Almanac here all along. This story has already been written. He’s already won. And Melvin Capital’s Schrödinger-ass crabs are dead as fuck. The only question now is: what causes that Golden Bridge to blow? I, for one, am content to wait on RC while counting my good fortune that I can continue to accumulate until whatever happens here happens. So pass the rocket peanuts.
It’s just money after all. Right Gabe?
TL/DR: Psst: a Mysterious Viking once told me about behind-the-scenes Golden Bridge negotiations that are likely taking place that give shorts no chance but the shorts seem to think they’re saying there’s a chance but there really is no chance; Gabe Plotkin, Steve Cohen and Andy Left are misunderstood Straight Shooters who probably answer typical interview questions about their own perceived weaknesses by saying “Sometimes I just care too much about doing the right thing”; and Ryan Cohen is the Goddamn Man so we can all relax and not worry so much about all this dumb short FUD bullshit, ok? OK. 🚀🚀🚀
**If you construe any of the above as investment advice without doing your own DD or at least Googling Ryan Cohen then you are a fucking idiot and may God have mercy on your soul. You too, Andy.

Things have been busy so, I apologize for the delay. I know lots of you love these stories.
Last Friday night...Yeah, I think we broke the law...Always say we're gonna stop, whoa
Friday, or in the alternative: What part of call me was not clear?
I get to my desk at the usual time and deal with the usual bullshit. I got a SCAR 16s here on consignment because a customer of mine bought them from dealers that were less than reputable and lied about the condition of/country of origin of their merchandise. And they swapped sku's and other bullshit gun dealer things.
Trying to be a nice guy, I can charge the guy to box and ship everything back or roll them at top dollar and give him a big stack of blue stripe benjamins. I tell him I'll try and sell them for him and take my cut off the top so we're both making money. He thinks this is a great idea and manages to line up a buyer on his own. I just need to do the 4473 and cut him a check. No big deal, I don't have a problem doing a little extra work for him versus the standard dealer to customer transfer. The guy he sold it to is a semi regular customer of mine and he comes in, bangs out the 4473 and it's about a 90 minute wait on transaction time.
No big deal. Instead of packing up for the gun show, I'm selling other peoples guns. I'll pack up for the gun show tonight and get everything ready when I get home. I need to be up super early and on the road.
I get everything squared off, customer comes in to get his money and drops off ANOTHER SCAR 16s to sell because the dealer pulled a con job. Okay, I can haul it to the show in the AM. I have a SCAR 16s in FDE from him. I have a 5.7 in FDE on the arm from a buddy of mine and a 509 FDE. I'll make a package deal, FDE FN Friday all FN time. Things are looking up!
I clear off all the 4473's for the week and do an audit and I'm down about 75% inventory wise from last year. Things are tight but stuff is trickling in in drips and drabs. Hit the chickfila on my way home for a sandwich and milkshake that brings all the boys to the yard. I'm done eating and getting ready to leave when I get the call.
ring ring
FC: go for FC
1: Mr Hayden sir, can I ask a favor of you?
FC: What up?
1: Got a guy who wants my scar 16 lined up but he has to pay on a credit card. Can you run it for me? You can take a card and cut me a check?
(It's 7PM on a friday night. I still need to pack for the show. By the time I get back it will be 9PM and I still need to shower and get a decent nights sleep. I'm a glutton for punishment)
FC: If you want to get it done tonight, have the guy call me. I'm eating dinner now and I'll head back if he calls me.
1: roger that, I'll pass along your info right now and let him know.
I do a few more emails from the laptop and say hi to the chickfila owner who was friends with my dad and buys guns from me. We chat for a bit and my phone does not ring. Now, gentle readers - I offered to head back at 730PM on a friday to get something done for someone as a favor to them. That should be worthy of "holy shit you are the man for coming back on your own time!" but this was not the case. No phone call means I didn't head back.
I head home, no phone call. Phone about to die. Plug it in and go into my garage and get all my gun show stuff sorted and loaded and organized. My normal display is 3 tables of merchandise stacked and racked on 2 tables. This show it's 1.5 tables of merchandise stretched out on 2 tables. Not good. My back is killing me. I get some ibuprofen and take a hot shower. Grab my phone off the charger. Bunch of missed calls, one email one VM. I return the VM.
1: Hey you must be having a good dinner at chickfila, we've been waiting here in the parking lot for the last hour!
FC: You have? Well, I didn't get a phone call. I'm home and in pajamas.
1: What? He didn't call you?
FC: Nope
1: HEY! YOU DIDN'T CALL HIM? Oh he says he just figured......
FC: No phone call means no turning around to go back to work. We'll deal with it next week.
1: Okay I'll tell him.
I'm a pretty easy to get along with guy. If you ask me a favor, I'll likely do it if it does not interfere with my life too badly. But if you ask me for a favor and you can't follow simple instructions, well then you're wasting your own time. That's no skin off my hide. Failure to follow simple directions on your part does not warrant my bad back bending over backwards to make it right. I climb into bed, I have to be up at 5AM to tank up at the truck stop, grab breakfast on the run and get to this show on the road.
Saturday, in the park. I think it was the fourth of july. People dancing, people laughing. A man selling ice cream. Singing Italian songs....
Showtime Saturday.
My back is stiffer than I'd like. I get down to the show and get loaded in and everything is set up looking spiffy. Not in my normal spot right by the loading dock, much to my chagrin. There's a line that's 1/4 mile long to get into the building. This shit is looking crazy.
Here's the deal, folks. The 4473 isn't hard. It does require attention to detail. Being in therapy with Dr Kaplan, I've learned a few things.
Old FC: Here's the clipboard, call me when you're done.
New FC: Here's the form, I'm guessing you haven't filled this out before. Start on line 9, read this carefully, 18A and 18B are two separate questions that both require answers, 21 L 2 is tricky, you need to read it ALL THE WAY TO THE END before you answer. Sign on 22, today's date on 23. STOP THERE.
With the new spiel, of the 7 forms I was handed on Saturday before noon - guess how many were filled out correctly? I'll make a break here to talk about the bullshit I had to do.
Show Hustler #1: I had a consignment mossberg built in new haven pre 1968. A guy wants to buy it and he's friends with Ray Dalio. Yes, the Ray Dalio. He tries getting me to knock $100 off but I tell him he's nuts. If he's FRIENDS WITH A BILLIONAIRE and lives in GREENWICH fucking Connecticut, you can pay my very fair asking price of about $350 on it. He relents and I give him a small discount and I give him the clipboard.
Show Hustler #2: I got a guy wanting to trade me a 44 Mag Black Desert Eagle for a Colt 1911 I have on the table. Prices are about the same. I tell him I'm not doing the work of selling two guns for the profit of one gun. He tells me I'm not selling two guns, I'm trading one and selling one. That's selling one gun! I explain two entries in my A/D book means I sell two guns, and it's easier for me to sell a NIB Colt than it is for me to sell a used Desert Eagle. Well the DE isn't used! It's unfired! It's brand new! If I didn't get it from a wholesaler, it's used. He says for me to think about it and he'll be at the show. I tell him I thought about it. He says yeah, ready to do an even trade? I say no, now I want your gun plus $1000. He calls me a clown and walks away.
Show Hustler #3: Over the road truck driver wants the FN 5.7 in FDE I have on consignment. Asks for a truck driver discount. He wants it for $1200. I've got it tagged at $1350. I tell him if he can fill out the form straight, no errors I write it at 1200. If there's an error, I write it for $1350. He says he just bought a brand new freightliner cascadia and money is tight. I tell him well we got a bet or what? He nods, I book the action.
Show Hustler #4: Guy wants my 509C. He wants to trade me for a NIB glock even up. I tell him there's no money to be made and selling a used glock gets me less money. BUT ITS NOT USED! ITS BRAND NEW! We go back and forth 9 times about how new does not mean what he thinks it means. I offer him $350 on his trade as credit knowing that $650 on a used glock in 45ACP is all the money right now. He calls me a cocksucker and walks away.
Okay, so 7 form 4473's with an explanation as to all the problem areas before noon on Saturday.....how many were filled out correctly?
If you answered zero, you are right! That means I won the 4473 bet. The 5.7 goes out at top dollar. Winner winner chicken dinner!
I head home and count my money. I need 9 more shows like this and I might finally be able to retire. On the way home I check web orders. Three guys in arkansas have ordered $900 22LR off my website at $150 a brick. I joke about my stash of 22LR being a brand new F350 platinum but at $150/brick that's rapidly becoming a reality.
Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Sunday is day 2 of the show. I stop at a local diner and grab corned beef hash and a short stack of pancakes for breakfast. Want to know how good a diner is? If there's real butter with the pancakes and not that bullshit country crock/margarine spread, you know things will be good.
There's butter. It's good.
A very nice Sig 229 in stainless in 9mm comes by from a guy who did business with me years ago. He traded me a Wilson CQB pistol for a Sig 226 and a Springfield Range Officer even up. I had maybe $1600 into that Wilson, I sold it for $2500 a few months later and tucked the money away. When my brother got married, our fucking gigantic family got together the night before the wedding and had dinner. I told him I'd cover it and he's like "are you sure?" and I said, how bad could it be? Not realizing his wife's family is a bunch of hungry alcoholics from cape cod who have never seen an open bar before and are total gluttons when someone else is buying. As it turns out, $2500 covered about half of the F&B, but he seemed appreciative.
Anyhow.
I sell nothing at the show all day and talk with the other dealers and swap stupid customer stories. I pack and head home and I've sold a good bit of stuff of mine and consignments. As I'm making my way out of the building, the wheel comes off the wagon.
This is not a euphemism. https://imgur.com/a/KY5vLCl
I pay off all my friends for their sales, and in the zelle memo field, I break down the transactions as such:
$69.69 - Anal Hook
$350 - Loch Ness Monster Poster
(whatever the balance was after bullshit, I can't remember) - this is from your real dad
I have lots of fun at this job sometimes.
It's just another manic Monday. I wish it was Sunday. 'Cause that's my fun day.
Monday morning I get an email from the fellow who spent his friday night in the parking lot waiting for me. His email address leads me to believe he spent some time at Parris Island or San Diego, because who else uses semper fi in an email address name? He says he can be in after work at 1645 hours sharp and is just down the road. I tell him I'll get everything squared away for him, and I prep the 4473's on a clipboard and get everything set up.
Cleaning up files from the show, closing out 4473's. Down to 249 items in stock. 150 of them are lowers. This is not good. Must strike while irons are hot though. Gotta shear all the sheep while the wool is ready to harvest and prices are high. I have a bunch of personal ammo that will hit the market one POTUS says something stupid. That's not an if, that's a when.
Bunch of phone calls from people seeking 380 and cheap 9mm. I do my best charles bronson impression. "No dice." The emails accusing me of price gouging are fantastic. There's some other idiocy too. I won't post the whole ones but here's a few snippets from the butthurt and the unprepared as well as the idiotic.

I’m just looking for fmj for target practice. Nothing fancy. If you could do them for $400 a case of 1000 I can talk.

FC: I can get you $400/case on 1000 but it'll be foreign made non brass 9mm ammo.

Pretty much what your saying is no matter how much money I try to spend, you’re continuing your get rich quick prices. People like you are direct part of the problem. It’s one thing to make money and it’s another to try to high way rob people. Hope you’re proud of yourself.

FC: I can assure you that this isn't a get rich quick situation. I spent plenty of money investing in half a million rounds of ammo about FOUR years ago during the Trump slump and I'm just getting around to realizing profits now. I am not getting rich, nor am I doing it quickly. I hardly think that any investment that takes 4 years to realize a gain is quick.
(No response back)
Subject: Used Ruger 10/22
Message: I’ll give you 175 for it.
FC: Deal. Can you come by today?
(new message, no subject)
Message: I can come by Tomorrow or Thursday.
(I try calling him. VM box is full)
FC: Great! Lets get it done. Your VM box is full. Tomorrow is better.
(new message, no subject)
Message: I can come tomorrow but I only have 150 I can spend at the moment so I’ll probably wait a few days.
FC: What happened to " I’ll give you 175 for it." a few hours ago?
(new message, no subject)
Message: My bad dude. I have a kid I don’t know what to tell you. And I’m pretty sure I said Wednesday or Thursday. If you really want it gone that bad I don’t see what the big deal is.
FC: I was just expecting you to have $175 ready if you said you wanted to deal......So, will Wednesday or Thursday work this week? Bring me cash and your concealed.
(new message, no subject)
Message: No cwl. But you don’t need one for a private sale. I can have your cash.
FC: No CWL no sale.
(new message, no subject)
Message: Yeah I’ll pass. Good luck. You totally should have mentioned that at the start of negotiations.
FC: What part of my ad that said cash and concealed required was unclear?
Yeah. Fucking mondays.
1630 rolls around and our scar loving jarhead walks in. With his wife. And his children. Not one, not two, not three, but FOUR little munchkins. All without an ipad and disney + streaming to keep them occupied. They're not bad kids, just curious at all the little things I have lying around like lower parts kits, magazines, AAC 51T mounts, stuff like that.
He hands over his ID. I look at the address. It's a city two and a half hours away.
FC: Uh, you're a long way from home.
USMC: Yeah I just moved. I'm putting my new address on this form if that's okay.
FC: You have anything with your new address on it? I can't do anything with ID that's not current.
USMC: It's not expired, it's current.
FC: Where do you live?
USMC: (names address locally)
FC: Then this is no longer current. I need something with your new local address on it.
USMC: Oh then I'll just use the old address on this form then.
FC: That's not acceptable. I need a current government document with your new address.
USMC: Here, I have activation orders and training orders from the army.
FC: That won't work. Government document with your new address.
USMC: Here's my W2 from the DOD.
FC: That's not a government document.
USMC: But the DOD gave it to me! It's FROM the department of defense, which is the government!
(Editors note: Did I mention that I hate mondays?)
sigh
FC: I can call ATF and ask......
USMC: Please do!
(I phone the ATF area supervisor on his cellular device)
ATF: Mr Hayden, how can I help you today?
FC: Barry, I got a funny one. Guy wants to use his DOD W2/activation orders to get his gun since that has his current address.
ATF: Why? Is there a reason he's unable to get an updated drivers license?
FC: That's a good question Barry, let me find out.
(FC puts ATF on speakerphone)
FC: Hey private first class, ATF wants to know why you didn't update your license
USMC: Uh because I've been busy
ATF: Sir, that's not an answer. I was in the military too and I had to change ID's just like you. If I can had to do it you have to do it.
(Barry was a very long time ago a RIO on the F4 Phantom)
USMC: But I have activation orders! and training orders! and a W2!
ATF: Get your license changed over or produce another document for the licensee to process your transaction.
FC: Thanks barry!
I hang up and tell him that's the area supervisor and I'm playing this one the way he tells me. He needs to produce a document compliant with ATF regulations for me to release this firearm.
USMC: Oh by the way there's a guy with my same name that robbed a bank in Detroit last year, I always get delayed anyways.
(sigh)
I type his stuff into the computer and I get a thumbs up from the computer instantly much to his amazement. I fire off a quick email to the guy who owns the scar
Subject: No current ID
Message: your jarhead friend who wants the scar does not have current ID

No deal? Or what's the plan?

My reply is interrupted. Their oldest child admires the batman dollar on my safe. The youngest child is incessantly clicking a spare pilot G2 pen I had on my desk.
Mother: If you click that pen ONE MORE TIME, you are WALKING HOME.
(kid puts the pen down)
Me, whispering to the kid: It's not that far.
(kid picks the pen back up)
Mother scowls at both of us.
I giggle.
I get back to email.
FC: Lets put it this way. You're gonna owe me for this one. Big time.
His wife starts pulling out auto registrations, USAA insurance cards, cable bills, etc with their new address - NONE of which are useful because none of them are government issued. She updates his and her drivers licenses online at the state website and gives me a voter registration printout confirming the update, but that's not a workable document since it's an informational update and not an actual registration.
Customer that owns the scar walks in and witnesses the flurry of kids playing with gun stuff and two grown ass adults trying to make it all work.
It's been 45 minutes of this.
The guy finally gives up and goes on the state website and gets a fishing license and emails it to me. Stacks a big stack of SCAR magazines that NOBODY has in stock to the order and I charge it onto his USAA mastercard. Had I returned to work on a Friday after hours to get an ID that wasn't current, I would have been apoplectic. Now, I'm just mildly annoyed. I can assure you that anyone who has walked through the hallowed halls of MCRD Parris Island should know to have their shit together. This just seemed like some hybrid of cluelessness more than it was an issue of stolen valor. Gun and mags go out the door.
My customer sits down and starts laughing. I look at him totally nonplussed.
1: That was easy, right?
(FC looks nonplussed)
1: An hour worth of work, for $50! That's good! you should do a few of those a day!
(FC looks nonplussed)
1: Really?
FC: You owe me.
I cut him his check and I'm done for the night. I head home.
Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too....
Tuesday
Another day, another box of 9mm at $75 each heading out the door.....I'm down to my last 15,000 rds of 9mm. I sold my entire personal stash of Remington UMC at $67 a box. Now that we're into the Federal American Eagle, it's up to $75. People are thanking me for having it available because they've called everywhere.
This morning's "no I don't have it" calls: 380ACP, 30-40 Krag, 6.5 CM, Grendel and Swede, 2.5" .410 slugs, 3 or 3.5" shells and turkey loads.
Now, for the uninitiated: Turkey season is around the corner. ALL the ammo for turkey loads have been purchased by new shooters looking for home defense ammo since last year. Why turkey loads for self defense? That's all the cabelas had....
Come season, there will be lots of very disappointed hunters who were unprepared. Those with ammo will hunt, those without ammo will hunt for ammo, and they will not be successful given the state of the ammunition markets. There is far more money to be made cranking out buckshot and slugs than there are turkey shells.
Package comes in for transfer. Guy has a NJ license. He's just moved here. Has NOTHING with his new address. This is basically a repeat of Monday's SCAR sale. The guy here is ADAMANT that he's bought a home here and he can purchase a firearm without being a state resident.
He's technically right. HOWEVER this is why dealers hate doing things: The gun and sale have to follow both the laws of the state he's in AND the state of New jersey. Now I have to run down all the bullshit that is NJ published ordnances to ensure that this gun is Phil Murphy(TM) approved. For the price of a transfer. BUT WAIT THERES MORE!
The gun is for a BUDDY of his he's giving it to him as a gift when he's down here for a fishing trip in a few days.
https://imgur.com/0cqL7vX
Read that last line.
Yeah. I tell him that it's unlawful for him to dispose of a firearm to a non resident. He's wondering what the fuck to do. He insists on taking delivery. I tell him I need to run it down with the address and everything since his NJ license isn't technically valid since HE NO LONGER LIVES THERE.
The guy bought a double wide trailer here, the trailer park handles all the water, the power, the etc - he does not have any REAL property here. He's insistent that he has a deed for his house. He's holding a bill of sale for a mobile home.
sigh
I tell him we should just get things sent to his friend via an FFL in his state. The guy lines up an FFL and I fedex the gun to the dealer up there. We need ONE UNIFORM SET OF COHESIVE COMMON SENSE GUN LAWS, not one federal set and 50+ subsections on a state level plus NY State HOME RULE BULLSHIT.
I head home early, telemedicine with Dr Kaplan. He's impressed with my progress. I'm not.
There are no songs that have Wednesday that I can think of here
Wednesday, Hump Day
I decide to work from home today. I can take all the phone calls and tell people no I don't have anything from home. I decide to do some early spring cleaning. It's a BEA-U-TIFUL day. The sun is out, nice weather means I can work in the garage for once. I start a load of laundry. Everything starts off fine. I'm sorting through old shot show HK posters when I can smell burning. There's no smoke but I do smell burning. Am I having a stroke? I can't figure it out and I get a load of laundry processed through my carbon neutral solar powered clothes drying system. I start another batch of laundry and hear a massive grinding noise when I should hear the washing machine washing. That burning smell? That was the timer burning up. And I have a full tub of underwear that needs to get done since I'm nearly out. Fuck.
My dad's old toolbox is in disarray. Mine isn't. I quickly grab a few tools. A snap on general service kit is totally overkill, but it's super nice to have EVERYTHING in one spot ready to go. My 1/4 drive ratchet takes apart my washing machine panel with ease. I unplug the timer and hit the electronic bay for a replacement. I find one 2 hours away and they say they can ship immediately on my fedex account. I can get it here tomorrow if they fedex ground it on todays truck. Deal, here's my amex. Email me tracking when it's sent.
One problem arisen, one problem in progress of being fixed. Not bad for before noon.
I get a bunch of stuff stacked up and straightened up and I throw a ton of stuff on facebook marketplace. Old Glock signs and point of sale merchandise like hanging ceiling mobiles, glock pencils, FN pads, FN hats, Daniel Defense stickers and patches, HK pistol racks, some old Colt and Beretta Blue boxes, all that stuff.
People message me about the Colt box. WHATS IN THE BOX they ask.
Well it's an empty fucking box. I made that VERY clear in the description. So what's my witty rejoinder? A youtube link to the scene from Seven with Brad Pitt yelling at Morgan Freeman "WHATS IN THE BOX? WHATS IN THE BOX?!?!!?!"
They are not amused. I think it's brilliant. They ask me what gun is for sale. I tell them it's just an empty box but if they want a gun, here's my info and call me at work during business hours. I'm then told that people selling empty boxes on facebook aren't selling empty boxes, they're selling guns.
This, I did not know.
Armed with this newfound information, I proceed to post more random stuff from my garage for sale in front of a pile of 20,000 rds of 9mm. An old kegerator and some bar equipment my dad had, a Miller Genuine Draft neon sign backdropped with 5 cases of Winchester Q4170 45ACP and 5 cases of CCI Lawman 147gr 9mm. The messages flood in looking to buy my stuff cheap. But I know what I got.
My favorite interaction:
1: hey man, you got anything else for sale?
FC: Tons of stuff for sale!
1: I'm looking for pews.
FC: I got pews, you want to stop by and check out my pews? I got some real nice ones, super nice. Only used on sunday!
1: Yeah man I'm leaving for lunch in 10 min, give me your address
FC: Sure thing! Here's me, be here in 30 minutes!
I continue to clean up my garage and I pull out some of my dad's old auction finds. Under about 200 old polynesian tiki mugs, I dust off some white oak church pews and pull them into the driveway. The guy tells me he wants to see the pews I got, and I point them out to him in the driveway. White oak, great shape - just needs some lemon pledge and they'll be good as new. He calls me a clown, gets in his car and drives off.
What's wrong with these people?
I return to find 254 facebook marketplace messages for people asking me to sell/ship them guns and ammo to all sorts of places and that facebook has suspended my account for violations of their marketplace terms. The offending item? An old Sig Sauer binder that has a P226 exploded diagram on the front. Because firearm parts are not allowed.
I manage to sell on facebook marketplace an old surefire incandescent rifle light, a blue colt mustang box, a few tin winchester ammo signs, some beer neons that belonged to my dad and some soft pistol rugs that I ordered from RSR on clearance. A productive wednesday. My haul nets me after facebook marketplace fees and shipping about $54 on the shipped items and a few hundred bucks in miscellany. I give my business cards to all the folks looking for gun stuff and they seem surprised that I still have ammo and that they've never heard of me. They do all their ammo and gun shopping online and don't do B&M. That's the way things will be in the future.
I head to the tex mex joint for dinner. I chat it up with a very cute blonde that is the manager. She's just moved into a new place after her man chated on her and she ditched that zero. I offer her my stack of bed bath and beyond coupons.
FC: Starting over is expensive. Maybe this will make it a little bit cheaper.
1: Oh my gosh this will save me a bunch of money! Here, your dinner is on me.
FC: It's been a long time since a woman has bought me dinner. Perhaps I should return that favor. Do you like firefighters?
(she cracks a big smile under the mask)
1: I do, but I'm talking to someone right now.
FC: I can see you ditched the zero, but if it does not work out and you want to get yourself a hero - I'm here pretty often. Just ask and I'll take you to dinner at your favorite place.
I manage to get rejected by a woman at the same time she bought me dinner.
That takes talent. I head home, pop some ibuprofen and head to bed. I check my email in bed. There's a tracking number.
PICKUP OCCOURED AFTER FEDEX CUTOFF FOR TODAY, PACKAGE WILL BE TENDERED THE NEXT BUSINESS DAY
You fucking clowns. You had one job. I call fedex and ask them to hold it at the facility 2 hours away. I'll grab it in the AM. They can't even find it. Fuck it. Leave it. I'll deal with it later.
Thursday, I don't care about you
Thursday, or FC makes a new friend!
I head into work a bit early today, as I'm driving down my street, I round the corner and see an older fellow wheeling his trash to the curb. This guy had a '99 Ford F250 extended cab 4x4 with the venerable 7.3 navistar in MINT condition for sale. 129,000 miles, parked in a garage 10 months out of the year. He wanted $16k for this truck and I figured he got tired of tire kickers and lowballs and kept it. I messaged him 3 days after the post went up and I never followed up, I knew the house since I've literally been driving past it MY ENTIRE LIFE on the way to elementary, middle, high school, college and now work.
My passenger window rolls down as I stop right next to the mailbox.
FC: You still got your F250?
1: No! That thing sold in one hour! To a dealer!
FC: Son of a bitch! I wanted that truck, I didn't even know you were selling!
1: Dealer came over in one hour, took a look at it, put cash on the hood, slapped a dealer tag on it and drove it out of here!
FC: Damn! I wish you put a sign on it and I would have stopped.
1: I told my wife I didn't want to sell it to a dealer but my garage isn't big enough!
FC: No kidding. Say, you still got your T bird?
1: My thunderbird? How'd you know I have a thunderbird?
FC: I grew up here! When I was in grade school I'd ride by and you were wrenching on it, when I was in high school, I'd see you wrenching on it from the bus and when I was in college I'd see you wrenching on it on my way home from class!
1: I spent 20 years building that car 2 weeks at a time! You wanna see it?
FC: Well, when you put it that way....
I pull off into the grass. He's got a detached 3500 square foot garage with Snap On's Mr Big not 1 but 2 ben pearson four post lifts. He shows me his thunderbird he's been working on for two decades. We get to talking. He's a commercial alaskan fisherman and he spends 10 months of the year in alaska and seattle running boats. Super nice guy. He asks me what I do for work, and I tell him. He tells me all his friends are scrambling for ammo and he didn't think it was that bad. I tell him it's been that way for about a year. He needs 00 buckshot, 8 or 9 pellet. I just got a small delivery. I tell him I can get him some. I give him my card and tell him call me this afternoon and I'll throw a few boxes in my briefcase and I'll deliver them on my way home. I'm asked about my watch, he's apparently a GMT man as well. We both like fords and stainless GMT's. Nice. He tells me the story about how he accidentally welded the band to his boat in the bering sea while doing repairs with a stick welder.
FC: What do you catch?
1: Pollock, cod
FC: long line?
1: No, trawler..... You know your commercial fishing.
FC: I know my customers.
Impressed at my substantial seafood knowledge, he tells me he'll call me after he checks his safe. I head into work and get some more stuff done.
I get a call from a referral. This guy was busted for selling pot and spent 8 months in miltary prison at Leavenworth. He's wondering if he can still own or have a gun with a bad conduct discharge. I'm not sure. I call my retinue and we agree that it's worthy of research and we should do a bar journal article about it. I love it when a plan comes together.
Doctor lady and her husband come in and their attorney has told them that without a trust, their silencer order will need to be approved by the CLEO of the region. This is why people hate lawyers. I get all their stuff drawn up as they requested with two trusts and interlocking responsible parties. Double the prints and plenty of passport photos all around.
Dead Air is behind on pistons and mounts, as usual but I'm assured by the big man in charge that they will be at wholesalers shortly. I'm so scrambled that I forget to charge her for two cans. No big deal, I'll email her and deal with it when I get her the mounts.
I have a facebook marketplace post up for an old Glock brand Pistol case and some glock brand ear pro. Here's the message:

Hi Will it's John from facebook marketplace I was looking at the glock bb gun and head phones will you show me a pic of the actually glock and does it have a clip and a slide,,??¿?? My old one did but I left it at my apartment I was sharing with friends but I miss having it lmk asap please and thanks sincerely Jeff K.

FC: Lets start here. 1. I don't sell Glock BB guns. 2. I don't have head phones. Were you only interested in BB guns?

Ya I was on Facebook marketplace looking for BB c02 pistols

sigh
I go truck shopping online. A guy has a 2011 F250 diesel for $24k. Except it's not a 2011. It's a 2001. I don't know what's more absurd, a 2011 at $24k, when average retail is a shade under $20k or a 20 year old truck selling for half of MSRP.
I'm ready to give up on this. Truck prices are stupid. I check my email. Timer in transit, Fedex has it en route.
I head home and pop a flexiril and head to sleep. The flexeril isn't fixing any of my muscles but manages to knock me the fuck out quite nicely. I need to be up early.
Just got paid, Friday night....
Friday, or FC vs The Washing Machine
As a kid, I always played with my dads toolbox. I took apart tons of stuff and had no idea how to put it back together. Some kids when they're in the tender years made birdhouses and small woodworking projects and it was super fun for them to pretend. Me? I took apart a 1 horse GE electric blower motor my dad short circuited on accident and made a pretend General Electric first generation boiling water nuclear reactor. Which was not really easy to do given the fact that the internet didn't exist in the early 90's. You had to have some modicum of imagination, and in that case your design was neither right nor wrong because nobody could easily prove your design accurate or otherwise. I had effectively built Schrodinger's BWR. I used different colored and sized tapcons and red heads for fuel/control rods if anyone was wondering. I think I can handle the washing machine. Just for good measure I put on my Cal Tech shirt.
As I warm up breakfast, I get an email from a guy named Eddie. He wants to see some 40S&W pistols. I tell him I have a busy morning. I can find some time for him around 10AM if he wants to stop by and I'll have what he's looking for ready.
My fedex guy stops at the Boeing facility first thing in the morning to drop off parts at the loading dock, I know his schedule so I pull up to the dock and hang out there waiting for him. Jeff is right on time and I snag my washer timer. No email back from Eddie so time to head back home to put everything back together. I'm in the middle of buttoning it up when I get a call.
Eddie is standing in my parking lot wanting to check out some 40S&W pistols I have in stock. I tell him all my available inventory on the website and that if he wanted me to have everything ready for him at 10AM, he should have given me an affirmative reply or a phone call. Right now, clean underwear is a priority and Eddie seems to understand this and he says he will chat with me later.
I head back to work. The entire parking lot smells like weed. There's a VW microbus parked on the far side of the lot and I'm downwind of it.
This is not a coincidence.
Wholesale rep tries to sell me $700 complete andersons again with a min order of 50. Pass.
I get a bunch of messages from other dealers looking to buy ammo off me and resell it to their customers at "reasonable" prices and I tell them they are fools for selling stuff cheap. They just don't get it and they'll be out of business soon.
I get a call from a guy wanting ammo. He wants all my 22LR. I tell him the price and he says "I can't make a profit selling it at those prices!"
This is the reason regular people can't buy ammo just FYI.
It's Friday again. I've got another gun show to prep for. New product just rolls in on the UPS truck. A few glocks, a few shields, and for some reason the rep sent me 5 sets of rear MBUS sights instead of 5 front and 5 rear. Ugh. I manage to get a small allocation of 9mm in on this truck as well as 11 boxes of 10mm! This year is looking better by the week!
I get several calls for AAC mounts that nobody has in stock and the owners are totally confused. One guy had a can and was selling a rifle and sold the ONLY mount he owned for that can to the guy buying his rifle for $200.
He was under the impression that you could just call AAC and order another mount for $112. I tell him if I can find what he's looking for, I'll need to buy it for $250 from someone and that it will sell for $350-500 by the time I mark it up. He's super confused as to why everyone is running out and buying AAC mounts and why they can't be ordered. I explain AAC/Remington's two bankruptices in 5 years. He is even more confused. I finally blurt it out.
You had ONE mount for your can. You sold it. There are no other mounts. You have paid a tax stamp for and own a can that YOU CAN NO LONGER MOUNT because you sold them. He now realizes the error of his ways. Nothing I can do about that.
Second guy tells me he sees I have AAC mounts. He needs one for his can. I ask him what model he has. He has to crack open the safe.
1: It's an Advanced Armament Corp Norcross Georgia
FC: That's the manufacturer......
1: It's a.........ZERO ENNN DASH ZERO EFFF EFFF
FC: It's a what?
1: It says on the side ZERO ENNN DASH ZERO EFFFF EFFFF
(Editors note: https://www.advanced-armament.com/assets/products/762-SDN-6.png )
FC: That's not the model.
1: It's not? Then what did I read to you?
FC: That's not a zero. That's the letter O.

1. The number O?

FC: O. As in Oh. ENNNN. Dash. Oh. EFFF EFF.
1: I'm confused.
FC: You just read the directions to take the can ON or OFF.
1: Huh that would explain the arrows wouldn't it......
FC: Yeah. What model do you have?
1: It's an MK13-SD!
FC: You need a 90T ratchet mount.
1: Great! You stock em, right?
FC: Nope.
1: But your website has some, those will work right?
FC: Unless you need 51T mounts, I can't help you.
1: Can you suggest someone that can? I need mounts.
FC: AAC is gone, these mounts may never be made again.
1: Shit.
Not to be out done, I get one more phone call.
1: hey this is brent, I need an AAC mount
FC: What model you got?
1: 7.62
FC: Right, thats the caliber.
1: RS7!
FC: SR7?
1: That's the one! I need an SR 7 mount in 5.56, the one I have is in 7.62
FC: Got four here. $400.
1: I just need one.
FC: That is for one.
1: WHAT? FOR ONE? Why's it so expensive?
FC: Remington went under. These may never be made again. I've been buying up everything I've been able to find so I can run the table.
1: That's a good business move.
FC: Not my first rodeo.
1: Well for $400 I'll just take a mount off a rifle I'm not using and I'll set that up. Thanks anyways.
(90 minutes later, my door swings open)
FC: What can I do for you?
1: I'm brent, we talked about that RS7 mount.
FC: SR7.
1: Whatever. I got this here and it does not even fit! It's for the wrong rifle! I need the right mount, this one is in 5.56 I need the one for the 7.62
FC: Lemme see what you got.
(Looks at package. AAC 90T TAPER MOUNT FH SR-5 5.56 1/2x28)
FC: What are you mounting this to?
1: AR15 in 223
FC: This is the correct mount.
1: No it's not! It does not fit!
FC: Does not fit barrel or can?
1: The can! I mounted it to the barrel and the can won't work! Need the one for the RS7!
FC: SR7
1: Whatever! I have a 7.62 can, this mount is for 5.56 and it's the wrong one.
FC: Who sold you this mount?
1: The gun store across the street from my house.
FC: You live an hour away, why didn't you go there?
1: I did, they don't have this mount in 7.62, I went there first.
FC: And they didn't explain this to you?
1: What is there to explain? This mount is marked 5.56. My can isn't 5.56. It's 7.62.
FC: Oh, so you want the one marked 7.62 in 1/2x28.
1: Exactly!
FC: 7.62 mounts aren't made in 1/2x28, all the 90T mounts are 90T exterior and the threading internally is different.
1: You're wrong.
FC: Please, argue with the guy wearing a caltech shirt.....
1: Prove it.
(I open his package and I grab an SR7 out of the safe. I press the latch down and thread it on)
1: You son of a bitch.
FC: You want to argue with me some more?
1: So what mount do I need?
(I pull out one of my mounts and show him side by side they're exactly the same)
1: Hmmmm. Okay. I must have done something wrong.
FC: There's not a lot of ways to do this wrong, but you found one. Go try it again.
(90 minutes later he calls back and tells me I was right)
What the fuck is with all the AAC people this week that are totally clueless?
But hey, at least I have clean underwear.

hi.
you're on a rock floating in space.
pretty cool, huh?
some of it's water.
fuck it, actually most of it's water.
i can't even get from here to there without buying a boat.
it's sad.
i'm sad.
i miss you.
how did this happen?
a long time ago, actually never, and also now, nothing is nowhere.
when?
never.
makes sense, right?
like i said, it didn't happen.
nothing was never anywhere.
that's why it's been everywhere.
it's been so everywhere you don't need a where.
you don't even need a when.
that's how every it gets.
forget this.
i wanna be something.
go somewhere.
do something.
i want things to change.
i want to invent time and space.
and i know it's possible because everything is here and it probably already happened.
i just don't know when to start.
and that's exactly where it started.
whoah, i paused it.
i think there's a universe now.
what's it made of?
quarks & stuff
ah, that's a thing.
in a place.
don't like it?
try a new place.
at a different time™.
try to stick together, because the world is gonna get bigger.
and emptier.
but it's not empty yet.
it's still very full, and about a kjghpillion degrees.
great news!
the quarks are now happily married, in groups of three called a proton or a neutron
and there's something else flying around too that wants to join in but can't cause it's still too
HOT
great news!
the protons and neutrons are now happily married to each other.
and some of them even doubled up.
great news, the electrons have now joined in
congratulations, the world is now a bunch of gas in space.
but it's getting closer together.
and it's getting closer together.
and it's getting closer toge-
it's a star
new shit just got made!
some stars burn out and die.
bigger stars burn out and die with passion, and make some brand new, way crazier shit.
space dust
which allows newer, more interesting stars to be made, and then die, and explode into
even crazier space dust
so now stars have cool stuff around them, like rocks, ice, and funny clouds, which can make some very interesting things.
like this ball of flaming rocks for example.
holy shit, we just got hit with another ball of flaming rocks.
and it kind of made a mess.
which is
now the moon
weather update:
it's raining rocks from outer space.
weather update:
those rocks might have had water inside them, and now there's hot steam in the sky.
weather update:
cooler temperatures today, and the floor is no longer lava.
weather update:
it's raining.
severe flooding alert:
the entire world is now an ocean.
volcano alert:
that's land!
there's life in the ocean
what?
something's alive in the ocean
oh cool, like a plant or an animal?
no, a microscopic speck.
it lives at the bottom of the ocean and eats chemical soup, which is being served hot and fresh, made from gnarly space ingredients left over from when it was raining rocks or whatever.
oh yeah, and it can do that.
it has secret instructions written inside itself telling it how to build another one of itself.
so that's pretty nifty, i would say.
tired of living at the bottom of the ocean?
now you can eat sunlight!
using a revolutionary technique, you can convert sunlight into food
taste the sun
side effect: now there's oxygen everywhere and the sky's blue.
then the earth might have been a snowball for a while, maybe even a couple of times.
it's a sponge.
it's a plant.
it's a worm, and some other types of weird strange water bugs and strange fish.
it's the Cambrian explosion
"wow, that's animals and stuff"
but we're still in the ocean, hey, can we go on land?
no
why?
the sun is a deadly lazer
oh okay.
not anymore, there's a blanket
now the animals can go on land.
come on, animals, let's go on land!
nope, can't walk yet.
and there's no food yet, so i don't care.
ok, will you learn to walk if there's plants up here?
maybe, said some bugs, and fish.
ok, so i can go on land, but i have to go back in the water to
have babies
learn to use an egg.
i was already doing that.
use a stronger egg.
put water in it.
have a baby, on land, in an egg.
water is in the egg.
baby, in the egg, in the water, in the egg.
works for me.
bye bye ocean
and now everything's huge.
including bugs.
wanna see a map of the land?
sure.
oh fuck, now everything's dead.
just kidding, here are the survivors.
keep your eye on this one because it's about to become the dinosaurs.
here's another map of the land.
yeah, it broke apart, don't worry about it, it does that all the time.
here comes a meteor.
and the dinosaurs are gone
it's mammal time, here come the mammals.
look at those breasts.
now they're gonna dominate the world and one of them just learned how to grab stuff.
and walk.
no, like, walk like that.
and grab stuff at the same time.
and bang rocks together to make pointed rocks.
"ouch"
and set things on fire.
"yeouch"
and make crazy sounds with their voice.
"gneurshk"
which can mean different things.
that's a human person
and now they're everywhere.
almost.
ice age
what, you can walk over here?
cool.
not anymore
well i guess we're stuck here now.
let's review.
there's people on the planet.
and they're chasing their food.
fuck it, time to plant some grass.
look at this.
i control the food now.
now everyone will want to be my friend and live near me.
let's all build houses except mine is bigger because i own the food.
this is great, i wonder if anyone else is doing this.
tired of using rocks for everything?
use metal.
it's underground.
better farming was just invented, in a sweet dank valley right in between these two rivers.
and the animals are helping.
guess what happens next
more food.
and more people who came to buy the food.
now you need people to help make the food and keep track of the sales.
and now you need houses for people to live in and people to make the houses, and now there's more people and they invent things, which makes things better and more people come and there's more farming and more people to make more things for more people and now there's business, money, writing, laws, power.
Society
coming soon to a dank river valley near you.
meanwhile, out in the middle of nowhere, the horse is probably being tamed.
why is all my metal so lame and lumpy?
tired of using lame, sad metal?
introducing
Bronze
made with special ingredient tin from the far lands of tin land.
i don't know, my dealer won't tell me where he gets it.
also, guess what?
egypt
meanwhile, out in the middle of nowhere, they figured out how to put wheels on a horse.
now we're getting somewhere.
also
china
and did i mention
indus river valley civilization
norte chico
the middle east is getting more complicated, maybe because it's in the middle of the east.
knock knock, er, clop clop.
it's the people with the horses.
and they made an empire.
and then everyone else copied their horses.
greeks
ah look, it must be the greeks, er, a beta version of the greeks.
let's check in with the indus river valley civilization.
they're gone.
guess who's not gone?
china
new arrivals in india, maybe it's those horse people i was talking about, or their cousins or something
and they wrote some hymns and mantras and stuff
you could make a religion out of this.
there's the bronze age collapse.
now the phoenicians can get down to business
also, can we switch to a metal that's a little easier to find?
thanks.
look who came back to israel, it's the twelve tribes of israel.
and they believe in God
just 1 though, he's got like a ten step program.
here's some huge heads.
must be the olmecs.
the phoenicians make some colonies.
the greeks copy their idea and make some colonies.
the phoenicians made a colony so big it makes colonies.
here comes the assyrian empire.
never mind, it's the babylonian- median-
it's the Persian Empire
"wow, that's big"
ah, the buddha was just enlightened.
who's the buddha?
this guy, who sat under a tree for so long that he figured out how to ignore the fact that we're all dying.
you could make a religion out of this.
oops, china just broke, but while it was breaking, confucius was figuring out how to have good morals.
ah, the greeks just had the idea of thinking about stuff.
and right over here, alexander just had the idea of conquering the entire persian empire.
it's a great idea.
he was great.
and now he's dead.
hopefully the rest of the gang will be able to share the empire evenly between them.
knock knock, it's chandragupta, he says get the hell out of here.
will you get the hell out of here if i give you 500 elephants?
ok thanks, bye
time to conquer all of india
or
most of india
but what about this part?
that's the tamil kings, no one conquers the tamil kings.
who are the tamil kings?
merchants, probably
and they've got spices
who would like to buy the spices?
me, said the arabians, swiftly buying it and selling it to the rest of the world.
hey, china put itself back together again, with good morals as their main philosophy.
actually, they have three main philosophies.
out here, the horse nomads run wild and free, and they would like to ransack your city.
let's check the greekification levels of the greekified kingdoms.
greekification overload!
bye, said the parthians.
bye, said the jews.
hi, said the parthians, taking over the entire place.
heyyyyyyyy, said the romans, eating the entire mediterranean for breakfast.
thanks for invading our homeland, said the jews, who were starting to get tired of people invading their homeland.
hi, everything's great, said some guy who seems to be getting very popular and is then arrested and killed for being too popular, which only makes him more popular.
you could make a religion out of this.
want silk?
now you can buy it from china.
they just made a
brand new road to the world
or you can
get there on water
sick! new trade routes! said india, accidentally spreading their religion to the entire southeast.
hmm, that's a good place for an epic trading kingdom.
there goes buddhism traveling up the silk road.
i wonder if it'll reach china before it collapses again.
remember the persian empire?
yep, said the persians, making a new one.
axum is getting so powerful they would like to build a long stick.
has anyone populated madagascar yet?
let's do it together.
china is whole again
then it broke again
still can't cross the sahara desert?
try camels.
hell yeah! now we've got business
said the ghana empire, selling lots of gold, and slaves
hi, i live in the roman empire, and i was wondering
is loving jesus legal yet?
no.
actually, ok, sure, said constantine, moving the capital way over here to be closer to his
main rival
don't worry about rome, it won't fall.
it's the golden age of india
there's the gupta empire, not chandragupta, just gupta.
first name chandra.
the first.
guess who's in rome?
barbarians
what's a barbarian?
non-romans, said the romans, being invaded by non-romans.
r.i.p., roman empire, er, actually just half of it, the other half is just fine, but it's not in rome anymore so let's give it a new name.
the mayans have figured out the stars
oh and here's a huge city, population: everyone
the göktürks have taken over the entire eurasian steppe.
great job, göktürks.
how's india?
broken.
how's china?
back together
how's those trading kingdoms?
bigger, and there's more of them
korea has 3 kingdoms.
japan has a kingdom, it's the sunrise kingdom.
deep in the arabian desert, on the top of a mountain, the real god whispers in muhammed's ear.
so he goes down to the cube where everyone worships gods and he tells them their gods are all fake.
and everyone got so mad at him that he had to leave town and go to a different town.
you could make a religion out of this.
and maybe conquer the world as well.
the roman empire is long gone, but somehow the pope is still the pope.
plus there's
new kingdoms all over europe
i wonder if there's room for moors.
here's all the wisdom.
in a house.
it's the baghdad house of wisdom.
just in time for the
islamic golden age
let's bring stuff to the coast and sell it, and become the swahili on the swahili coast, said the swahili on the swahili coast.
remember this tiny space you have to go through to get from here to there?
someone owns that now.
wanna get enlightened in the middle of nowhere?
the franks have the biggest kingdom in europe, and the pope is so proud that he invites the king over for christmas.
surprise! you're the new roman emperor, said the pope, pretending to still be part of the roman empire.
then the franks broke their kingdom into what will later be called france and not france.
but the northerners, or just norse if you don't have much time, are exploring.
they go north, from the north to the northern north.
and they find some land.
two types of land.
and they name them accordingly.
they also invade some other places, and get called many names, such as vikings.
there's the rus.
the kievan rus.
are they vikings?
i don't think so, said the kievan rus.
ok, fair enough.
the pope is ready to make some more emperors.
of the "roman empire".
the holy roman empire.
it's actually germany but don't worry about it.
new kingdoms.
christianize all the kingdoms
which brand would you like?
mine's better.
mine's better.
mine's better.
time to conquer england, said william.
it's a bird, it's a plane
it's the seljuk turks
aah! said the byzantine empire who's getting so small and almost doesn't exist anymore.
we need help!
they need help, so they call the pope.
hey pope, can you help us get rid of the seljuks?
maybe take back the holy land on the way?
come on, i know you want to take back the holy land.
yes, i do actually want to do that.
let's do a crusade.
crusade
they did many crusades, some of which almost didn't fail.
but at least the italians got some sweet trade deals.
goodbye mayans.
hello toltecs
goodbye toltecs.
hello mississippi
look at those mounds.
there's the pueblo.
i always wondered how to build a town in a cliff.
guess who's here?
khmer.
where?
here.
and pagan is there.
vietnam unconquered itself, korea just became itself, and japan is so addicted to art that the military might have to take over the government.
china just invented bombs, and typing.
and the mongols just invaded most of the universe.
nice going, Genghis!
i bet that will last a long time.
some of the islamic turks were unaffected by the mongol invasions because they were busy invading india.
is it tonga time?
i think it's tonga time.
i just found out where the swahili gets all their gold.
look at this chad.
means "lake".
there's an empire there.
right in the middle of
Africa
the king of mali is so rich he's going on tour to let everyone know.
wow, that guy's rich, everyone said.
the christians are doing a great job reconquering iberia, which will soon be called spain and not spain.
please remain christian.
we will check in later to see if you're still christian when you least expect.
whoops, half of europe just died.
ming
china's back, yay!
hey khmer, time to share.
new kingdoms here and there.
oh, look who controls all the islands.
it's the mahajapit.
majahapit.
mapajahit.
mahapajit.
mapajahit.
majapahit?
oh, italy's really rich, time for them to care a lot about art and the ancient classics.
it's kinda like a rebirth.
here's a printer.
let's make books.
so you think you can conquer the byzantine empire?
yep, said the ottoman turks.
nice job, ottoman turks.
whoops, you missed a spot.
don't forget to ban europe from the indian spice trade.
what? that's bullshit, said portugal, spiceless.
well i guess we'll have to find another way to india
wait! said christopher columbus, probably smoking crack.
if the world is round, let's go this way to india.
nah, don't worry, we already got this, said portugal.
so chris goes to spain.
hey spain, wanna hire me to find india by going around back of the world?
no.
please?
no.
please?
no.
please?
ok.
so he sails into the ocean.
and discovers more ocean.
and then discovers the indies.
and japan.
let's draw a line to decide who gets which half of the world.
the aztec and inca empires are off to a great start.
i wonder if they know that europe just discovered their continent?
the habsburgs are marrying into so many royal families they might have to start marrying each other.
move over lithuania, here comes moscow.
ivan wants to make russia great again.
move over timurids, maybe go invade india or something.
persia just made persia persian again.
let's make it the other kind of islam.
the one where we thought the first guy should have been the other guy.
hey christians!
do you sin?
now you can buy your way out of hell.
that's bullshit.
this whole thing is bullshit.
that's a scam.
fuck the church.
here's 95 reasons why, said martin luther, in his new book, which might have accidentally started the protestant reformation.
you know what would be magnificent, said suleiman, wearing an onion hat?
what if the ottoman empire was really big?
which it is now.
what if russia was big? said ivan, trying not to be terrible.
portugal had a dream that they controlled the entire indian ocean, including the spice trade.
and then that dream was real.
and spain realized that this is not india, but they pillaged it anyway.
damn, said england and france.
we gotta start pillaging some stuff.
then the dutch revolt and all the hipsters move to amsterdam.
damn, said amsterdam.
we gotta start pillaging some stuff.
question 1: can you get to india through north america?
no, but at least there's beaver.
question 2: steal the spice trade.
that's not a question, but the dutch did it anyway.
sugar
guess where all the sugar's made?
in brazil.
stolen
and the caribbean.
and it's so god damn profitable you might forget to not do slavery.
the next thing on russia's to-do list is to get bigger.
britain and france are having a friendly discussion about who should control the entire world.
more specifically, ohio.
then it escalates into a seven year discussion, giving prussia a chance to show austria who's boss.
but what about britain and france, did they figure out who's boss?
yes they did.
it's britain.
guess who's broke?
also britain.
so they start taxing the hell out of america.
fuck you, says america, declaring their independence, and fighting for it.
and france helps them win, now france is broke.
and britain'll have to send their prisoners to a different continent.
wait, if france is broke, why do the king and queen still wear such fancy dresses?
let's overthrow the palace and cut all their heads off! said robespierre, cutting everybody's head off until someone eventually got mad and cut his head off.
you could make a reli- no, don't.
haiti is staring to like the idea of a revolution.
especially the slaves, who free themselves by killing their masters.
why didn't we think of this before?
wait, who's in charge of france now?
me
said napoleon, trying to take over europe.
luckily, they banished him to an island.
but he came back
luckily, they banished him to another island.
there goes latin america, becoming independent in the latin american wars of independence.
britain just figured out how to turn steam into power.
so now they can make
many different types of machines and factories with machines in them so they can make a lot of products real fast
then they invent some trains.
and conquer india and maybe put some trains there.
hey, china! said britain.
buy stuff from us!
nah dude, we already got everything, says china.
so britain tried to get them addicted to opium.
which worked, actually.
but then china made it illegal and dumped it all into the sea.
so britain threw a hissy fit, and made them open up five cities and give them an island.
britain and russia are playing a game where they try to stop each other from conquering afghanistan.
also, the
sultan of oman lives in zanzibar now
"that's just where he lives"
india just had a revolution, and they would like to govern themselves now.
nope, said britain, governing them even harder than before.
technology is about to go crazy
the united states finally figured out whether slavery is good or bad.
it's bad, they decided.
and then they continued manifesting their destiny, which is to kill the rest of the natives and take their land and maybe kick out the mexicans too.
i know, let's rape africa, said europe, scrambling to see who could rape it the fastest.
they never got ethiopia
britain and france are still hungry.
they never got thailand
the united states ran out of destiny to manifest, so they're looking for more.
hawaii
cuba
wait, spain controls cuba.
well, blame something on them and go to war!
what should we blame on spain?
let's blame the maine on spain.
so they blame the maine on spain.
now we're in business.
to celebrate, they kick panama out of panama and make a canal, connecting the two oceans.
britain just found oil in the middle east.
it makes cars go
china is so tired of being bossed around that they delete their old government and make a new, stronger government, which is accidentally weaker and controlled by a guy from the previous government.
europe hasn't had a war since the last war.
so they start world war 1.
look at those guns.
it's gonna be a great war.
so great we won't need a second one.
after it's over, they blame germany.
russia went on strike and the workers overthrew the government.
now everyone's paycheck is the same.
communism
in the soviet union
the arabs revolt and britain helps.
now the ottoman empire's gone so we can give the
jewish people a place to live
hopefully the arabs won't mind.
let's cut the cake, said sykes and picot, carving up the remains of the not-so-ottoman-anymore empire.
except turkey, turkey makes a brand new turkey
and then the saudis conquer arabia.
it just seemed like the right thing to do.
hello?
yes, it's the 1920's calling.
let's get in the car and drive to a party and listen to jazz on the radio and go to the movies.
the economy's great and it'll probably be great forever, just kidding.
germany's back, featuring hitler, the angry mustache model.
and he's mad at the jews for existing.
japan is finally conquering the east, and they're so excited they rape nanking way too hard.
they should probably just deny it.
hitler's out of control.
so the international community tackles him and then tries to explain why killing all the jews is a bad idea.
but he kills himself before they could explain it to him.
that's world war 2
bonus round!
pacific showdown.
united states vs. japan.
fight!
finish him
let's unite all the nations and have some
world peace
seems legit.
hi, i'm gandhi, and if britain doesn't get the hell out of india, i'm gonna starve myself in public.
wow, that worked?
bonus, now there's pakistan.
actually two pakistans.
one of them can be bangladesh later.
the jews and the arabs finally figured out which one of them should live in the holy land.
me, they both said at the same time.
let's divide up the land so everyone's happy.
sike, they both get angrier
look out china, there's a new china in china.
what's on the menu?
communism!
no thanks, said the other china, escaping to an island.
i wonder which one is the real china?
there's the korean war, korea versus korea.
nobody wins, then it's on pause forever.
let's meet the sponsors.
oh, it's the two global superpowers.
they're having a friendly debate over which economic system is good, and which one is an evil virus of Satan.
and they both have atom bombs.
fight!
wait, no, that would be the end of the world.
let's just keep it cool and spy on each other instead.
and make sure we have enough atom bombs.
i'll race you to space.
now let's make some more countries fight themselves.
europe is tired of pillaging other continents, so the continents they were pillaging are tired of being pillaged.
so here's a new map, with new countries.
now you can't tell who they're being pillaged by.
the united states finally decided whether racism is good or bad.
they decided it's bad, and the world agrees.
south africa might need another minute to think about it.
let's check the world population.
whoa.
okay.
technology's better too, that might keep happening.
the soviet union decides to relax a little, and accidentally falls apart.
europe makes a union, so now they can all use the same money, except britain, because they don't feel like it.
let's check the mail.
surprise, it's on the computer.
whoops, someone just attacked america.
i bet they'll remember that.
phone call.
surprise, it's in your pocket.
wanna learn everything?
surprise, it's on the computer.
now your phone's a computer, which is in your pocket.
whoops, the economy just crashed.
don't worry, the big banks won't fail because they're not supposed to.
surprise!
flying robots.
with bombs.
wanna print a brain?
some people have no friends.
some people have no food.
the globe is warming
and the ocean is full of plastic
let's save the planet! said everybody, not knowing how.
let's invent a thing inventor, said the thing inventor inventor, after being invented by a thing inventor.
that's pretty cool.
by the way, where the hell are we?

Hi all,
I thought I would share my profits for Matched Betting Extra Place Horse Racing for Jan 21. January 2021 has turned into my best month of Matched Betting since I started way back in Summer 2018. This months profits are roughly £4,707. A life changing figure for many and a great figure seeing this is achievable on top of a full time job. Matched Betting is the only decent side hustle I have actually found, compared to doing hundreds of boring online surveys...yuck! (Unless you are a good business person / have 5 lodgers / lots of family money etc.) To see some of my other Matched Betting profits you visit my site: https://cashontheside.co.uk/
I will be investing some of my profits this month in ETF/Shares and putting into house improvements like a new drive way. In addition with Cheltenham horse festival coming up in March, I will be increasing my bank to cover liabilities.
The bulk of my profits came from Extra Place racing, large underlayed winners and BOG (best offer garuntee). Variance was certainly on my side this month and I must have had at least 10 large winners which won upwards of £1600 pounds per bet. As I underlay my bets I made more profit than If I had fully layed of the bets. About 5% of these profits came from low risk casino. After you have completed all welcome offers...in Matched Betting. Ep's become a gold mine...and I truly recommend them to anyone.
Some more of my bets this month illustrating underlayed bets and ep:
https://cashonthesidecouk.files.wordpress.com/2021/02/winnings4.jpg
https://cashonthesidecouk.files.wordpress.com/2021/02/winnings.jpg
https://cashonthesidecouk.files.wordpress.com/2021/02/another-winner.jpg
​
Images of one of my bets illustrative of Best offer guarantee: https://cashonthesidecouk.files.wordpress.com/2021/01/136707133_10159536662702922_8507610622687908137_o-1.jpg?w=544
For those who are starting out on their Match Betting journey in 2021 these sort of figures are achievable to you once you have experience….unfortunately this will not come overnight! I do put a lot of time into it..between 2-5 hours a day, 7 days a week sometimes. For the average person you could earn at least £500 a month.
To learn more about Match Betting please visit my article Boost Your Income with Matched Betting. Alternatively you can start an Odds Monkey free trial where they will teach you step by step and give you the calculators you need: odds monkey trial https://www.oddsmonkey.com/affiliates/affiliate.php?id=64754(affiliate) or www.oddsmonkey.com. (non affiliate)
To those with a little more experience who want to learn about Matched Betting Extra Places you can visit my guide here Extra Place Match Betting tips here or I have copied and pasted it all below.
For those with Matched Betting Experience - my guide and tips to Extra Places:
What is Extra Place Matched Betting?
Extra Places can be a very lucrative technique to learn. Extra Places are available for us to do pretty much every day, increasing the appeal. Extra Place Offers are available to all customers. This means that even if you get gubbed with a bookmaker, in most cases, you can still make money with them by Matched Betting on their Extra Place Offers.
Extra Places are considered an advanced reload offer, as they not risk-free. However once you have gained some experience on more basic horse racing offers, you can start to take advantage of the lucrative profits available. It may sound complicated but as soon as it ‘clicks’, it becomes simple. Essentially we are taking advantage of the bookies and exchanges paying out if the horse you have backed comes a certain ‘place’ in a race e.g. 4th.
Extra Places combined with additional offers such as BOG (Best Offer Guarantee) can mean additional profits. For example, you back a horse at odds of 15 and then the starting odds move up to 23. If that horse wins you win an extra x8 on your bet. You can see some real life scenarios I found of Extra Place combined with BOG below. Depending on the size of the underlay, profits below would range up to £3,000+

What is a ‘place’ in horse racing?

Quite simply a ‘place’ is the position the horse finishes a race in. For example if a horse wins a race it comes 1st, if a horse comes 2nd its 2nd. In some races with a large number of horses some bookies will pay out if a horse finishes the race in 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th and 6th position. Horse Racing festivals such as Cheltenham or Ascot are particularly well known for this.

What is an ‘Extra Place’ in horse racing?

Now we’ve understood what a place is in horse racing you may have probably already guessed what an ‘extra place’ is going to be! An ‘extra place’ is where the bookies add one (or more) additional places to their standard place classification on a particular race. For example they may offer to ‘pay 7 places on a race’ instead of the standard 3 places. The ‘extra place’ in this instance cover 4th, 5th, 6th and 7th.
What are my Extra Place top tips?

1. Some of my biggest profits have come from big underlayed winners and BOG. I typically underlay most of my bets by about 20% sometimes more. If you are starting out I would underlay on the place only by about 10% to play it safe until you learn more.
2. Don’t bet on more places than a bookmaker is offering. E.g. If the bookmaker is offering 4 places don’t bet on more than that.
3. Whilst your learning, take horses on implied odds of at least 12 or more on a match of 80%+.
4. Look to keep qualifying losses down. E.g. for £100 profit, £5 ql.
5. Please note, the best odds are typically found between 10 minutes up and to race time. You have to be quick on your ‘toes’…learn to walk before you run etc. Start out on easy horse racing officers before doing extra places.
6. You will need a bank of at least £1000+ for your exchanges, ideally more. The more you have the more of the field you can cover. You can do EP with several hundred in your exchange but you won’t be able to make bigger profits.
7. Be consistent, don’t take risks, don’t chase your losses and learn from matched betting extra place forums.
8. Keep the Odds Monkey up throughout the day...and check for good matches.
9. Use Bookies Boosts to increase your odds and matches.
10. Do not give in to your fear of missing out on offers…Tomorrow is another day.
11. Have at least a dual monitoscreen setup. It is important to be able to see exchange, books and calcs.

How do I find Extra Places offers?
I use the the Odds Monkey Extra Place Matcher to find the best opportunities for profit. The Matcher is explained in the below video.
https://youtu.be/oOKAdiSJidg
I am also a regular visitor of the active Odds Monkey community forums. You can sign up for an Odds Monkey free trial today here today https://www.oddsmonkey.com/affiliates/affiliate.php?id=64754 www.oddsmonkey.com (non affiliate). Odds Monkey provide you with the all guides, calculators etc. I have been a member for over 2.4 years now.
Feel free to get in touch or ask below if any questions.

​

Table of Contents
Chapter 21 l Chapter 22 l Chapter 23 l Chapter 24 l Chapter 25 l Chapter 26

Nite - 2 Months Ago
Rezzolina landed outside of her condo’s balcony, looking in to see Serren busying himself in the kitchen.
Serren was cleaning some spoons and mixing bowls, apparently having just put something into the oven. A few pots sat on the stove simmering with various broths and vegetables that Serren had been cooking.
Rezzolina took a deep breath, smelling the food. Her stomach was in knots, her mind racing with the tragic news she would have to explain to her little brother, Serren. She tried to prepare herself as she entered the apartment.
Serren turned to Rezzolina, “Oh, Rezza! Did you find o-out…?” Serren trailed off as Rezzolina stood by the glass doors of the balcony.
Rezzolina looked to Serren, trying to hide her emotions but unable to do so. She approached Serren slowly, “Oh, Serren. I did find out what you wanted to know about Yuki. But you’re not going to like what I have discovered.”
“Oh… no… Yuki!” Serren gasped, his hand moving to his snout as tears welled up in his eyes. “No! Please, this can’t be!”
Rezzolina stopped in front of Serren, holding his hands in hers, “We got confirmation from the Dei Angel’s that something happened that forced Shuttle Goodwill to launch early. They confirmed that the angel on board…” Rezzolina took a deep inhale through her nostrils.
Serren shook his head, “No, Rezza, No!”
“...did not survive,” Rezzolina said, her voice shaking as Serren fell forward, clutching Rezzolina tightly and he buried his snout into her shoulder. “Oh, Serren…” Rezzolina sighed as she held him tightly, tears leaking from her eyes as Serren’s love and loss over Yuki crashed into her.
Serren pushed away initially, "No, she's not dead! She can't be! I felt that she was in trouble, not her death!"
Rezzolina moved to hug Serren again, "I'm sorry Serren, but it's true. I know you can feel me, can't you?"
Serren’s sobbing grew as Rezzolina held him tightly.
Rezzolina heaved a sigh, tears leaking from her own eyes, “Serren, I promise you, I will stay by your side this time. Alright? We’ll get through this together.”
“Why?” Serren sobbed, “Why do they always die on me?”
“Oh, Serren,” Rezzolina ran her hand down Serren’s neck as the pair sank to the floor slowly. “I think the women you choose are too adventurous for their own good.”
“I love her, Rezza,” Serren cried, looking up to her, “I love her so much.”
Rezzolina dried his eyes and tried her best to force a smile, “I know she loved you,” Rezzolina turned from him, “but I wish she didn’t leave to go to Dei.”
Serren sniffled, “She had to go. She had no choice.”
Rezzolina turned to Serren, giving him an incredulous look.
“You didn’t feel the love she had for her child,” Serren defended, “the love she has for her child. I wanted it, Rezza! I want a son so badly… I wanted a child with Allia as well. But now? Now I've lost my chance at having any children!” Serren sobbed.
Rezzolina hugged Serren tightly, rocking him back and forth, “Serren, I feel your desire, but… a child doesn’t make or break your life.”
“It would make mine!” Serren protested, “I know you have given up on having a child, but I haven’t!” Serren got to his feet, turning from Rezzolina.
“Serren,” Rezzolina was about to argue, but backed off, feeling Serren’s pain, “I’m trying to help. Don’t push me away, okay? Even if you try…” Rezzolina forced a smile, “I’m not going anywhere."
Serren turned to Rezzolina, tears still streaming from his eyes, “...you promise?”
Rezzolina opened up her arms, “I’m here for you like I should have been before.”
Serren rushed to Rezzolina and hugged her tightly.
Rezzolina hugged him back and heaved a heavy sigh, looking up to the ceiling, “If you can see us now, Yuki, I hope you’re happy with the decisions you’ve made.”
…
Dei
Cleo took a deep breath, inhaling the scene of her lover, who held her close in his arms. She relaxed in his arms, nuzzling her face against his shoulder as she felt his wings pull her tightly.
The pair were naked, following a night of passion the likes of which Cleo had never truly felt before.
“Good morning,” Lucifer whispered to her.
“Good morning,” Cleo responded sweetly, relaxing in his arms. “You’re still here?”
Lucifer chuckled, “Yes, I wasn’t going to leave before you woke up.”
Cleo looked up to his face, “So, you are going to leave?”
Lucifer smiled, “In a way, I cannot remain in this body for long. But I will leave Kaelen in your care,” his hand moved to her cheek, “So that I can come back to you again.”
Cleo nuzzled her cheek against Lucifer’s hand and she shivered pleasurably, “About what I said, or at least, how I said it. I’m sorry-”
“No, you’re not,” Lucifer laughed, “And that’s fine. I hope I have managed to make it up to you.”
Cleo rolled her eyes, kissing his cheek, “You’re on the right path… but you’ve got your work cut out for you,” Cleo smiled mischievously, “I’m very demanding.”
Lucifer smiled, kissing her softly, “I’m well aware.”
“So, breakfast or…?” Cleo asked.
Lucifer frowned, “I’m afraid I’ve lasted as long as I can for now. I’ll return another time.” With that, Lucifer laid his head down, “I do love you, Persephone.”
Cleo frowned as Lucifer closed his eyes, and seemingly went to sleep, “...Lucifer?” she gave him a shove.
His form shifted, but he did not wake. Lucifer had left Kealen’s body behind, resting fitfully in Cleo’s bed.
Cleo smiled softly, “Okay when you get back then, you’re all mine.” She got to her feet and padded her way to her phone, picking it up quickly, “Maybe Mr. Trueman will let me take care of Kaelen,” she said to herself as she placed a call.
It rang a few times before Malik answered the line, which was unusual, “Trueman Manor, whom may I ask is calling?”
“Malik? It’s Cleo. Hello,” Cleo said pleasantly.
Malik’s voice hitched, “O-Oh! Ms. Walters how… I'm so glad that you called!"
“Is Reginald there?” Cleo asked.
“Mr. Trueman? O-Oh…” Malik hesitated.
“Is everything okay, Malik?” Cleo asked, her concern growing as she spoke.
Malik was silent for another few moments before he confessed, “Mr. Trueman, sadly, passed away late last night.”
Cleo gasped, “Oh my Guardian!” Cleo felt her cheeks redden as she realized who the Guardian was and that she was literally, just in His arms. Furthermore, Kaelen was now with her as well. “Malik… where’s Kaelen?” Cleo asked.
This question caused more sputtering from Malik, “Y-Young M-Master Kaelen? W-why in his room, of course,” Malik lied.
Cleo turned to her bedroom, looking to Kaelen’s sleeping form, “Is he now? Because, Malik, last night Kaelen came to me.”
“W-What?!” Malik gasped.
“Kaelen’s in my bed, as we speak,” Cleo stated.
Malik hesitated once more, “I… I don’t know how to explain it, Ms. Walters, but I think that Kaelen was not Kaelen when you saw him last night.”
“I know who He was, Malik,” Cleo sighed, “Malik, can you bring his life support equipment to me? I’ll take over his care, in the meantime.”
Malik cleared his throat, “I’m… afraid that Young Master Kaelen’s estate, and his power of attorney, was gifted to his current caregiver.”
“Isn’t that you?” Cleo asked.
“No… someone else,” Malik confessed.
“Who?” Cleo asked sternly.
…
Inside Mimi’s club, recently renamed 'Heaven', she smiled softly as she laughed with multiple high profile angels in the exclusive VIP lounge.
Mimi was just finishing introducing Jasmine to a rather well dressed young man who was grinning at Jasmine lecherously when Cleo walked straight to the VIP area.
Cleo stood there for a moment or two before clearing her throat softly to gain Mimi's attention, "Hello, how are you today, Mimi?"
Mimi turned to Cleo with a bemused grin, “Jasmine, do what you do best and make sure Mr. Smith has everything he needs,” Mimi placed her elbow on the table inhaling from her obsidian cigarette holder, “I have some matters to attend to," she said as she blew smoke in Cleo's direction.
Mimi stood up and walked past Cleo, "Follow me," Mimi said as she pointed ahead of her. Cleo followed behind as she walked into a back-office slowly.
Once the door closed, Cleo glared at Mimi, “So when were you going to tell me you had your hooks in Mr. Trueman’s estate?”
Mimi grinned, sitting behind her very clean oak desk, “Oh? Who said it had anything to do with you, Persephone.”
“I do, right now,” Cleo demanded tapping her fingers on Mimi's desk, “You kept this from me!”
Mimi’s grin didn’t diminish, “Is there a problem with having more than one option? Also, my plans with Trueman and his little tomato were in play long before you came to me with your offer of getting into The Scale. I did not work as hard as I did, as long as I did, to place my bets on a single horse,” she removed her cigarette from her cigarette holder, slowly unscrewing a cap at the end. “Granted, you were the best option. I do rather enjoy being the central ‘Head’ of Cerberus.”
“But you also have your name as Kaelen Trueman’s caregiver. Giving you control over the Trueman estate,” Cleo accused, hiding the fact that she knew Mr. Trueman had died.
Mimi tapped the cigarette holder onto her desk, a light blue powder slipping out from around the edges, “It’s true. I was not hiding that from you maliciously, my dear. Should your plan have failed, Trueman was my next ticket up,” Mimi explained as she took a business card and tapped the powder into a pair of lines, “Oh, I’m being rude… would you like some?” Mimi said as she rolled up a Ł100 Lumen bill, offering it to Cleo. Mimi did this as she removed the mouthpiece from her cigarette holder.
“No,” Cleo snapped.
“More for me,” Mimi grinned, shrugged, and quickly snorted the powder up through her cigarette holder. She inhaled deeply, and shivered, “Mmmm,” Mimi moaned and shivered as she replaced the cap on her cigarette holder. “That’s better,” Mimi stated more energy in her voice.
“What are your plans with Kaelen?” Cleo asked.
“The tomato?” Mimi scoffed, “Well, I'll likely place him in some hospice, he won’t be my problem anymore.”
“I want him,” Cleo stated.
“Pardon?” Mimi asked, lifting her eyebrow. “I know I just sniffed a little Diamond Emotion, but it sounded like you wanted Kaelen.”
“I do,” Cleo said simply.
“Why?” Mimi asked curiously, frowning, “I worked too hard to get Trueman’s trust and be the vegetable's caregiver. What do you get out of the little vegetable? Do you know what I have had to do for that old fart?” Mimi said, frowning, “That is my money when the old bat kicks the bucket, I earned it, Cleo. I worked hard for it!”
“I don’t want the money,” Cleo said calmly, “I just want Kealen.”
Mimi got to her feet, sniffing a few times as she approached Cleo, “I feel like you’re hiding something from me. Why do you want him and none of the estate?”
Cleo locked eyes with Mimi, “I want him. That’s all I’m going to tell you. The rest is none of your business. Just know he will be very well taken care of,” Cleo said simply.
Mimi hummed to herself for a moment, “Fine, fine, fine,” Mimi shrugged, “If you want Kaelen the Vegetable, then so be it. I couldn't care less.”
“And a portion of the estate you get goes to Kaelen’s continued care,” Cleo bartered.
“Sure,” Mimi said, “That won’t cost much in the grand scheme of things.”
“Good, I’ll send the paperwork over to you,” Cleo said as she turned on her heel, “Oh, by the way, Reginald is dead.”
…
Deepsight
Yuki limped along inside the massive ship of Deepsight, marveling at the new features and fresh signs of ongoing construction, “This is a ship?! It looks like a space station.”
Captain Jessie grinned, “It’s both, actually!” He boasted as medical staff assisted the crew of Shuttle Goodwill, and Thomas, out of the shuttle.
Yuki noticed that, while not what she was used to on Nite or Dei, there was actually gravity here, though it was substantially weaker. “I… can’t help but notice I’m not floating all over the place.”
Captain Jessie nodded, “The ship is built as a spiral inside, basically the deeper in you go, the less gravity. Outside decks are standard G-Forces, while on the central decks it’s a bit weaker.”
“And the whole ship spins at the same rate,” Yuki said with a grin, “That’s amazing!”
Briggett looked around, “It is amazing, but I thought that Deepsight wasn’t in travel condition?”
“For the primary mission? No, not yet,” Captain Jessie laughed, “It’ll be decades before the ship has proper hibernation chambers, self-sufficient hydroponic gardens, and the capability to produce livestock,” Captain Jessie chuckled, “we aren’t going to be getting Longvertis up here anytime soon… so there are many challenges before we can leave our solar system.”
Yuki sighed, “I wonder if I’d still be alive when the shuttle left.”
Tarrabetha turned to Captain Jessie, “Captain Jessie, sir?”
“Yes?” Captain Jessie smiled wide at Tarrabetha.
“The goal of Deepsight is to seek out new planets and colonize them, right?” Tarrabetha asked.
Captain Jessie nodded, “Correct, we’d have a crew that would rotate in and out of active duty every ten years or so relieving the other crew and allowing them to go back into hibernation.”
“Are you looking for a Navigator?” Tarrabetha asked.
Briggett frowned, “Tarra?”
Thomas looked to Captain Jessie, “Or a communications expert?”
Captain Jessie laughed, “Certainly!”
Issla frowned, “Tarra, why would you want to leave us?”
Tarrabetha frowned, “I… I killed someone on the shuttle,” she gave everyone a mournful look. “While all of you were pleased enough to help me feel better about it… I can’t get it out of my mind. How can I go home after doing such a terrible thing?”
Thomas frowned, “Tara-”
“Tom,” Tarrabetha shook her head, “You don’t have to come with me.”
“You kidding?” Thomas laughed, “Tara I left my home for you, you think I wouldn’t follow you when you did the same?”
Tarrabetha smiled and hugged Thomas, “Oh, Tom!”
Yuki smiled at the pair, heaving a heavy sigh, “I guess we should get ourselves back into shape… how far are we from Nite?”
“We’re making an about-face now,” Captain Jessie explained, “So we’ll be back within the orbit of Nite’s moon within four months, then you can head back to the surface of Nite, which should take a week or so.”
Yuki grinned, “Then I’ll be home to see my Serren.”
Captain Jessie gave an odd look to Yuki, “So, I do have to ask, what are you, exactly?”
“I’m sorry?” Yuki asked.
“You’ve got Niten wings and horns,” he said, motioning to her head, “But your scales look… odd.”
Yuki sighed, “I’m a Dei angel, I’m just…” Yuki rubbed her stomach, “I guess altered.”
Captain Jessie gave her an odd look but shrugged, “Well, I’ll tell the Niten Command Center about your good fortune.” He turned to the medical staff helping the crew of the Shuttle, “Let's get them moved into lower decks and we’ll slowly move them up to the outer decks to get them back in shape.”
Yuki sighed, “More physical therapy,” she lamented, “Yay,” Yuki said with a sarcastic tone.
...
Dei
Cleo looked over the tubes and medical equipment that was linked up to Kaelen as Malik finished plugging everything in. “All set?”
Malik smiled, “Yes, Master Kaelen is comfortable and should be fine too, well awaken, again”
Cleo smiled, “Good.”
Ipswella’s voice called back from the kitchen, “Dinner is served!”
Cleo and Malik left the bedroom, and Ipswella smiled wide at the pair.
“Smells great, Ipswella,” Cleo complimented as she made her way to the table.
“I suppose I should take my leave,” Malik sighed.
Cleo frowned, “Malik, where do you plan to go?”
“Oh, well,” Malik sighed, “I have a decent reference from Mr. Trueman and I’m sure from you as well, Ms. Cleo. I’ll find myself in strong employment once again.”
Ipswella looked hopefully to Cleo.
Cleo smiled, “Malik, you know neither Ipswella nor I have the expertise to care for Master Kaelen, and to be honest the only other one who did is… well let's just say she’s no longer interested.”
Ipswella clapped happily, “I agree Ms. Cleopatra!”
“Are you certain?” Malik said, excitement in his eyes.
“I’m certain, yes,” Cleo smiled, “Besides I’ll be very busy with business going forward, and as such, I’ll need someone here to make sure Kaelen’s needs are met.”
Malik beamed to Cleo, “Then I shall do my best, Ms. Walters.”
“Cleo is perfectly-” Cleo was cut off by her phone, “And there it is…”
“Scale issues, Ms. Cleo?” Malik asked.
Cleo turned to Malik, her eyebrow raised as Malik showed a bronze pin on his lapel. “A thousand feathers,” Cleo said simply.
“For a single Scale,” Malik bowed.
Ipswella was confused as she watched the pair exchange the code phrase.
“I’ll have to ask you to initiate Ipswella,” Cleo said as she looked at her phone, “I need to take this.”
Malik and Ipswella each bowed as Cleo left the room.
“Persephone,” Cleo said pleasantly on the phone.
“So you’re going by that full time now, Cleo?” Sorjoy asked.
“Do you not go by ‘Sorjoy’?” Cleo asked.
“Fair enough,” Sorjoy caved as he continued, “Come upstairs: the Nite have made contact with the Shuttle and they are furious.”
Cleo sighed, “I’ll be right there.”
With that, Cleo ended the call and made her way to the specialized elevator leading to the top floor of the building. Within moments she was at Sorjoy’s office, heading into the main office.
Cleo passed a blue female angel sitting at her desk, much to her shock.
The blue angel shot to her feet and bowed low, “Good evening!”
“What’s going on?” Cleo asked as she walked into Sorjoy’s office, not returning the greeting to the young woman.
Sorjoy moved to the office door and promptly shut it, “I felt that you being my assistant any longer was an insult to both you and the Scale, as such I plan on making you our new COO.”
Cleo turned to Sorjoy, shocked, “You’re what?!”
“I’m sure you can handle it,” Sorjoy smiled, “Besides, it allows me to take a seat on the board and properly run the day to day operations of the Scale, as you requested.”
Cleo shot Sorjoy an agitated look, “I do not like surprises, and while I appreciate this, talk to me first next time,” She snapped.
Sorjoy laughed off her anger as they approached the red phone.
Sorjoy unmuted it and cleared his throat, “This is Sorjoy and Persephone, from Dei.”
Gallor’s voice followed four soft taps on his end, “Gallor and Rezzolina, from Nite. Good Evening.”
“And Good morning,” Sorjoy responded.
Rezzolina’s voice clipped in quickly, “This call isn’t to exchange pleasantries,” Rezzolina hissed.
Cleo sighed, “I understand, I assume I’m speaking to Rezzolina?”
“Yes and you’re Persephone,” Rezzolina stated, “I want to thank you for working quickly with us to ensure we had everything we needed to recover Shuttle Goodwill. Currently, Deepsight has confirmed with us that they have the crew of Shuttle Goodwill and one Dei Angel by the name of Thomas.”
Sorjoy and Cleo both gave each other confused looks.
Cleo spoke first, “Was there a man by the name of Azrael Palma onboard?”
Now there was silence on the other end.
Cleo turned to Sorjoy, “Is there a delay?”
“Not at the moment,” Sorjoy confirmed, “It’s an optimal time for a call, likely why they made it.”
Four taps were heard, “The… uh… Angel you’re referring to, was he a… uh… did he have… a… position of authority of some sort?”
“He was the Commissioner of the Police here in Seraph City,” Sorjoy explained.
There were four taps, followed by another four taps and exasperated breathing.
“Settle down, Gallor!” Rezzolina could be heard in the background, “Get a drink, I’ll handle this.”
“I-I’m sorry, Erik,” Gallor said as he could be heard wandering off.
Cleo frowned, “What happened to him?”
Rezzolina’s voice soon came over the phone, “The other Dei angel onboard, apparently was killed. I would arrange for his remains to be sent back but… well…”
Cleo’s frown had vanished and was now replaced with an odd, almost maddened look of joy.
Sorjoy took over, “Well, what?”
“The crew members were forced to eat him, to survive,” Rezzolina reluctantly.
Cleo reached out to the phone and muted it before she burst into hysterical laughter.
“Cleo?” Sorjoy said, looking to her concerned.
Cleo’s laughing was soon followed by tears which flowed freely. She placed a hand on the desk and another over her eyes, tears continuing to stream down her face as her laughter continued.
“Cleo you’re… scaring me,” Sorjoy confessed.
Cleo turned to Sorjoy, her hand removed from her eyes, “He’s dead! And they ate him!” She slipped down to a crouch by Sorjoy’s desk, shifting between overjoyed laughter and a strange sort of relief mixed with guilt as she realized her abuser of many years was gone.
Sorjoy was unsure of what to do in this situation, but crouched down with her, “I’m not a fan of him either but… why are you… laughing and crying?”
Cleo looked up to Sorjoy, “You wouldn’t understand,” she managed before she dried her eyes, “I… I can’t explain it. He’s gone. Finally gone.”
Sorjoy lifted an eyebrow at Cleo’s manic response to this news.
“Persephone? Sorjoy? Did the connection drop?” Rezzolina asked.
Cleo got to her feet and steeled herself quickly, “What about Thomas and Yuki?”
“Well, Thomas is healthy, for the most part,” Rezzolina heaved a sigh, “But Yuki… wait…”
“Something wrong?” Cleo asked.
“Hold on… If the dead angel was the Commissioner that was eaten… Thomas is the stowaway Angel…” Rezzolina was clearly working something out in her head.
“Yuki is not here, Rezzolina, she would have to be on board the shuttle,” Cleo confirmed.
“I need to make a few calls,” Rezzolina said, “I’m sorry for the loss of your Police Commissioner!”
“We’re sorry that this event happened,” Cleo said before the line cut off.
Sorjoy looked to Cleo, confused, “What was all of that about?”
“Something tells me there have been some communication issues,” Cleo thought out loud. She dried her eyes, “I don’t know what came over me before, by the way, sorry for the theatrics there.”
“Palma did terrible things to you, Cleo,” Sorjoy said, “I’m pretty sure that was a logical reaction.”
“Not for me,” Cleo sighed, “By the way, we need to discuss this COO position,” she glared at Sorjoy.
Sorjoy smiled at Cleo, “I suppose we do, don’t we?”
…
Deepsight
After a month onboard Deepsight, Yuki and the rest of the crew had begun to settle in.
Yuki was more than fascinated with the inner workings of the massive ship.
She found herself constantly asking Captain Jessie multiple questions, almost to the point of driving the Captain up the wall, but his patience was legendary.
“The ship has a Magnetosphere?!” Yuki said, enamored by the concept.
Captain Jessie laughed heartily, “Two, actually, a bow and aft, to simulate the north and south poles of NIte.”
“That’s how you protect from interstellar radiation? No heavy shielding?” Yuki asked.
“No,” Captain Jessie gave another laugh.
“Can I…” Yuki took a deep breath, “Can I see how it’s generated?”
Captain Jessie gave Yuki a confused look, but continued to smile, “I suppose a little look couldn’t hurt.”
Yuki clapped her hands together excitedly, “Oh, thank you, Captain!”
Captain Jessie chuckled as he led Yuki down a hallway. As they moved through the rounded walls, Yuki could feel the floor’s curvature increase and the gravity decrease as they traveled along.
“The magnetosphere generator is towards the center of the ship,” Captain Jessie pointed out and they soon reached a point where they were floating, “I’m sure that makes moving around easier for you.”
Yuki gave him a nod, “Yes, it does,” Yuki sighed, “Physical therapy is a pain in the ass… more so when you’re pregnant.”
Captain Jessie gave a nod to Yuki as he glanced at her belly bump, “I do have to say, for an egg it seems a long time to carry it.”
Yuki sighed, “I don’t lay eggs, Dei give birth.”
“I keep forgetting you’re a Dei Angel, sorry,” Captain Jessie chuckled, “It's probably the horns and the tail.”
Yuki sighed. On top of her other strange additions, she had sprouted a stubby tail. Nothing as large as any of her Niten Dragon companions, but still a tail about slightly longer than half a meter now swung back and forth behind her, blue, like the rest of her Niten features.
Yuki had also discovered that her fingernails had grown black and hardened. The tips had even begun to grow sharper over the past couple of weeks.
“Am I going to turn into a complete Nite…? Will these changes stop?” Yuki thought, her tail swishing back and forth excitedly, “Do I want them to?”
Yuki did note that her face had not transformed into a muzzle nor had she grown sharp teeth or gotten taller. Her feet were still, well, feet, rather than the large claws the Niten Dragons sported.
The horns were a new challenge, of course. Yuki found she had to mind doorways more often and there was that one time she nearly closed a hatch on her tail.
Finally, Yuki and Captain Jessie arrived at the Magnetosphere Generator.
Yuki’s eyes widened as she looked at what was basically a giant gimbal rotating around a large sphere.
“That’s an electromagnet in the center, so we can turn it off or turn it up if we’re encountering heavy solar radiation,” Captain Jessie spoke loudly over the steady hum of the large machine. Large rings spun around a central sphere slowly, and as one passed another seemed on its way to pass again.
Yuki looked to her clothing, noticing that nothing was being drawn towards the magnet, “Is it not on?”
Captain Jessie chuckled, “It is,” he beamed to Yuki, “A Magnetosphere doesn’t need to have a strong magnetic pull, it just needs to generate a large field. This isn’t going to suck the metal off your body,” he laughed reassuringly, “Though this close some radio waves do get distorted.”
“That’s just-UGH!” Yuki gasped, her legs clenching together as she felt a gush of fluid slip from between her legs, “Oh… Oh, Guardian!”
“What is it?” Captain Jessie asked, concerned as he felt Yuki’s panic.
“I-I think, my water broke!” Yuki shrieked.
“Your what broke?” Captain Jessie asked, clearly confused.
“I-I need to get to the medical bay! M-My baby is coming and it's way too early!” Yuki shouted.
Captain Jessie grabbed Yuki’s hand and led her out of the inner spiral of the ship. The pair began to slow down as the gravity increased.
Yuki was staggering along as a contraction hit and sent her to her knees.
Captain Jessie didn’t hesitate, quickly scooping Yuki up and rushing her towards the medical bay, “No need to worry, you and the baby will be just fine,” Jessie tried to comfort her as he rushed through the hallways, “Out of the way!” he shouted.
Yuki held on tight as Captain Jessie ferried her through the brightly lit steel corridors and eventually to the medical bay.
“Her baby is coming!” Captain Jessie shouted.
“Early!” Yuki added, sweat drenching her face.
A male doctor and a female nurse rushed over to Yuki and brought her to a medical bed.
The male doctor, a yellow scaled Niten Dragon with orange eyes put a large paper mask over his mouth while the nurse, a grey-skinned Niten Dragon with light green eyes, rushed to pull out a medical journal of some kind.
Yuki was breathing hard as the doctor looked her over.
“Her pulse is elevated,” the doctor looked to her face, “Did you hurt yourself?”
Yuki glared at him, “I’m pushing out a kid!” she snapped.
The grey nurse soon rushed over, “Dei Angels give birth, they don’t lay eggs,” the nurse winced, “It’s apparently a very painful process.”
The doctor turned to Yuki, “I guess we’ll see what’s going on down there,” he said as he cut off the lower half of her flight suit, and spread Yuki’s legs a bit further apart.
Once off, the doctor looked down to see that there was a small head pushing against Yuki’s vaginal passage.
The doctor promptly fainted.
“Doctor Tress?!” the nurse shouted as she rushed over and checked at what the doctor had seen. She sighed, “Men.”
Yuki gritted her teeth, “Something really doesn’t feel right!”
The nurse frowned, “Okay, I… I think I see why,” she slipped on a pair of gloves, “...I’m very sorry miss, but I’m going to have to manipulate the baby.”
Captain Jessie leaned over, trying to see if he could spot what was happening out of curiosity.
Both Yuki and the Nurse glared at him.
Yuki screamed, “This isn’t a show!”
Captain Jessie backed away quickly.
The nurse reached between Yuki’s legs, and soon she furrowed her brow in concentration.
Yuki winced as another contraction hit her.
The nurse flinched, “Ma’am, you need to hold back on that, if at all possible!”
Yuki grunted in pain, “It’s the only way the baby is going to come out!”
The nurse grunted, “Ma’am, your body is designed for a child with a round head… the child’s snout is catching on your vaginal wall. I have to gently tilt its head up so that the baby can exit snout first,” she argued, “I can’t do that if you’re pushing him against the vaginal walls!”
Yuki growled in pain, “J-Just hurry up…” Yuki gasped as she tried her best to not push as another contraction hit, “P-Please.”
The nurse now had both of her hands inside of Yuki as she turned the small infant inside of her, “Come on little one… just… tilt up a tiny bit…”
Yuki gritted her teeth and gasped in shock as she felt all the pressure vanish from her lower back.
“Yes!” The nurse shouted, “The head is out!”
Yuki gasped, sweat drenching her face, “I-Is the baby okay?”
“Now I need you to push, Ma’am, the baby should be clear!” the nurse instructed.
“F-fuck,” Yuki cursed and gave a hard push, then gasped as the infant was forced out of her.
The nurse took the child in her arms and looked to the umbilical cord, confused as to how to handle this as she held the tiny, crying infant, “Uh… something is still… attached.”
Yuki looked up as the nurse held up the crying infant, “The cord? C-Cut it,” Yuki gasped.
“A-are you sure?!” The nurse frowned, but reached for a pair of medical scissors, cutting the cord. She saw it was bleeding, and quickly pinched it. “Okay,” she stood up, “From here, I know what we can do,” she said as she rushed the child away.
“W-wait...w-where… my baby!” Yuki shouted, wincing as she tried to sit up and follow her.
Captain Jessie rushed to the nurse, “Nurse, where are you going?”
“This infant is like a premature hatchling!” the nurse explained, moving the small crying and underdeveloped infant to an incubator. “This, I know how to handle,” she said as she placed the child inside.
The nurse worked to settle the child and slipped a feeding tube into the baby’s snout, taping it to the top of the tiny child’s face. The nurse then placed a breathing tube into the other nostril and closed up the incubator.
The nurse returned to Yuki, looking down at the passed out doctor. She sighed and got out a bit of smelling salts.
Doctor Tress jolted up, shaking his head in confusion, “What happened?”
“You fainted, Doctor,” the nurse shook her head.
“My baby,” Yuki gasped, “is it okay?”
The nurse helped Doctor Tress up to his feet, “I am sure he will be,” she looked to Doctor Tress, “Perhaps you should assess the premature hatchling, Doctor?”
“R-Right! Right!” Doctor Tress rushed to the incubator.
The nurse turned to Yuki, “I’m sorry Ma’am, but the child was hatched, er, came out prematurely.”
“W-well can I see him?” Yuki smiled weakly, “Him, right?”
The nurse nodded, “Yes, him.” She helped Yuki out of bed and into a wheelchair, “I’m Abby Nermal, by the way.”
“Thanks, Abby,” Yuki winced as she settled into the wheelchair and Abby began to push Yuki towards the incubator, “Yuki…” she trailed off before smiling to herself, “Misho.”
“Thought up a name yet?” Nurse Abby asked as the pair moved to the incubator.
Yuki looked down and smiled.
Laying there, wrapped up in soft cloth sheets, was a tiny little Niten Dragon, with red skin.
It’s tiny horns looked like small white nubs and it’s head and stubby snout seemed to take up the vast majority of his body mass.
“No,” Yuki smiled warmly, “I want to wait to talk to his father about that.”
The little child opened his eyes and Yuki felt a shiver run down her spine.
Despite his red skin, the child’s eyes were bright, clear, and piercing.
An Icy Blue.

First | Previous | Next Chapter
Author's Note: Where previously I have used Italics font to signify Elvish conversation, this chapter has a large majority of Elvish which I thought might be off-putting to the reader. A later scene instead uses Italics for Common/English, with Elvish in standard text. Please feel free to feedback if this change doesn't flow and causes some reading issues.
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“What were you thinking giving that oaf a sword! What if he were to turn the blade on you; how would I cope finding my friends body, murdered by this barbarian.”
Shae still held the large bundle of clothing and comically oversized boots in her arms, having returned but two minutes ago to a sight that had left her on edge. It had taken all Olana’s will to focus on the outburst, and not the amusing sight.
Olana closed the gap between them and reached out to place a hand on each of her friend’s shoulders, a gesture which gained her a distrustful look from the figure still standing behind them. Nuala, an old friend and occasional bedroom companion to Shae, stared warily at how Olana acted.
“Please relax, he is harmless. Look for yourself,” Olana gestured behind her at the snoring man, slumped over the garden table. “Besides, it was more than worth it to find out humans can use Words.”
“You taught him a Word? Do you have any idea what the Grand Mage would do if she found out what you’ve done?”
“Probably expel me, see to it that I can’t get so much as an assistant bakers’ position, and write a very stern letter to Mother.”
It was the last of these that sent a shiver down her spine, yet Olana was more than confident in her choice to play tutor for Drake; she would not be cowed by some closed-minded old mage that thought more of tradition than adaptation.
“What is the plan here?” asked Shae. “What is the next step now that you’ve given him lodgings for the night, fed him, taught him Elven magic, and are soon to clothe the man; are you ready to set him free?”
“I…I haven’t got that far yet. I know that sending him back is more likely to kill him than succeed, and I can hardly cast him out with no knowledge of the world and what awaits him. No, I will teach him more of our history and culture, this will allow him to become accustomed to our ways so that he could integrate, when the time is right.”
“You won’t be able to keep him here,” the deeper voice of Nuala halted Olana before she could continue. “Whether you want him as a play thing, or company, it would be cruel to curse him to a life of hiding away from the world. Olana, you have to see the Council of Mages, seek their counsel before the truth becomes known and the least of your worries would be punishment for unlawful tutelage.”
Olana did not like to admit it to herself, but her elder spoke some wise words. She had no real plan for what came next. having not expected to conjure a male of the wrong species she never considered how to deal with such a scenario. Reluctantly she admitted to herself that her only option, and the best for Drake, was to seek out the Council.
“You can’t take him like that,” Shae scoffed. “Even dressed up he’ll still be a hairy, smelly oaf; he needs to be bathed and groomed if you want hope of avoiding the Mages’ punishment.”
“Okay, I’ll go draw him a bath. Would one of you wake him? Please try to show Drake some kindness, don’t forget that he did not choose to be here; this situation is entirely one of my own making.”
Olana grabbed the scabbard and sword laying on the table in front of Drake, the latter quickly returning to its former size as she sheathed it, before heading into her house.
The part time couple shared several glances whilst the intermittent silence was punctuated by heavy snores, which only seemed to irk Shae further.
“Don’t look at me, I’ve got my hands full with his clothes. You suggested the Council, I think that pretty much volunteered you to be his alarm.”
“Fine, I’m not so afraid of a mortal that I can’t touch him.” Nuala cast a dirty look at the elfess. “I can see now why you never visited last night. When you told me this morning that Olana had almost achieved what she has been so fixated by I couldn’t believe that you weren’t trying to wind me up. It really is a surprise to see a human again after all this time. I presume he won’t bite when woken?”
A shrug of the shoulders and a devilish smile were her answer; Nuala made a mental note to punish the rebellious actions later when Shae predictably came crawling for her embrace.
Nuala approached the slumbering figure, the strong odour building to overwhelm her senses. She did not recall them being so unkempt, it was baffling to find the man to be almost wolflike in the excessive amount of unruly hair. Carefully she shook him by the shoulder, doing her best to block out the bizarre sensation of touching such a hairy patch of skin.
With a snort Drake ceased his snoring. He slowly sat upright, stretching out his arms as he let out a long yawn that ended in a tremendous belch. He was entirely surprised to find an unfamiliar face staring at him with equal parts amazement and disgust.
“You aren’t Olana,” he said, spying Shae from the corner of his eye half-buried under something she carried. “At least, not unless you changed your appearance with magic. Did you? I bet that’s really cool.”
“At least you aren’t as stupid as I feared. No, I’m definitely not Olana. I am Nuala, a friend of Shae’s. Olana asked that we wake you for your bath.”
“Not a moment too soon.” Shae muttered.
“I could certainly do with a good wash. If you haven’t used magic to change your appearance then how come you aren’t green like other elves; are you a different race?”
Drake was surprised to see an expression best described as flummoxed spread across Nuala’s face at his question. Whilst her pointed ears and large eyes certainly seemed common traits with the two elfess’s he had met so far, her light brown skin, dark hair, and taller stature, coupled with a more muscular and toned physique, made her stand out against all he knew to be Elven.
“Not all elves are green, Drake,” Shae answered in Nuala’s place. “Are all humans the same where you come from?”
“Well, no, they come in all shapes and colours.”
“They why do you think it would be different for us?”
“I… I was just taken aback is all. I thought Nuala might be a forest elf, or a wood elf, something like that.” He looked between the two females, who were sharing similarly baffled expressions. “I’m just making this worse for myself, aren’t I?”
“Yes. How about you go for the bath already. Nuala, if you don’t mind could you shear that mess he calls hair? I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to answer any of your short-sighted questions with scissors in hand.”
-----------------------------------
It had proven somewhat tricky to squeeze into the red tile lined trench in the bathroom, but with a lot of manoeuvring Drake had managed to fit his frame within. He had imagined a large metal pot filled with water over an open flame, instead the home had a somewhat functional toilet and superheated stones that Olana used to bring the bath water up to what felt like a degree off scalding. There was no plug in the bottom of what passed for a bath, but with everything he had seen lately Drake could imagine emptying out the old water was probably as easy as breathing for the mage in training.
He was quick to scrub away the worst of the grime, using a washcloth that was coarse enough to skin a rhino; he was glad that his yelps went unheard. Gradually the temperature dropped to something a little more bearable and Drake felt his body begin to relax, his aches from a night sleeping on the floor easing away.
Except, he was no doubt currently asleep in a hospital bed, around the clock care ensuring his immobile body was moved regularly to ward off bed sores; so why did his aches feel so real?
His train of thought was broken by the knuckles rapping on the bathroom door and he called out for their owner to enter. Nuala, as promised, appeared into view with a pair of gleaming scissors in one hand.
“Before you get any amorous ideas, Shae has already warned me about your actions this morning. Drape the washcloth across your crotch and tell me when you are somewhat decent.”
Drake complied, not one to anger a woman, or elfess, wielding a sharp implement. Nuala used her foot to push a stool from beside the basin to in front of Drake and sat near the trenches edge, pinning a cloth that had been hanging from her waist around his neck.
“I never thought I’d have to ask this question; could you point out where the hair on your torso ends and the beard begins?” she asked after a few frustrating moments of trying to find the answer for herself.
Drake held a finger up horizontally and traced roughly along his collarbone, which he took as an acceptable answer when Nuala clacked the scissors to confirm they were operational.
He kept his eyes closed out of respect, and fear, since he was eye level with the elf’s chest. Drake had to do his best not to flinch as she ran the scissors behind his ear, not even bending it down at the top to keep the appendage from drastically reducing in size. Whenever she moved to focus on a different patch of hair and he had avoided some extreme body modification he let out a sigh that did not go unnoticed.
“Olana tells me that you are also from Mid-Earth, except it is different to our own.”
“I’m not sure I explained myself very well to her. Where I am from is simply called Earth, and there is no history of it ever being referred to as Mid-Earth. In fact, what we would call different races aren’t elves, dwarves, or orcs, but humans that have different complexions, similar to yourself and Olana or Shae.”
“What happened to your elves for them to die out?”
“They never existed to begin with. There are plenty of humans in my world who pretend to be, and sometimes even wish they were, elves, but you could probably come up with the craziest scenario imaginable and find someone amongst eight billion people that fetishize it.”
“Billion? I am not familiar with this number; what does it mean?”
“I might have to speak a bit plainly to describe it, but please don’t take it as a slight on you. How many elves live within this city?”
“I do not know for certain, but I would say fifteen, maybe as much as twenty thousand live within and around Minma Khodel.”
Drake did some painful mental arithmetic, which took him far longer than he’d like with the silence only interrupted by the quiet snips of scissors coming together.
“Imagine all the people on my Earth lived together in one great city. If we were to replace the humans with elves you would need four hundred thousand Minma Khodel’s to do so.”
The scissors stopped and Drake risked looking up at the speechless elf.
“Such an amount is unnatural,” she muttered. “And are they all like you, hairy and fat?”
“Here I was thinking we were becoming friends.” Drake feigned a pained expression, not that it garnered him any sympathy. “No, they are not all like me. You can find men that are practically hairless and women that almost put me to shame, with such diversity amongst that large a population there really is no end to how we can appear. As for the chonk,” he grabbed a handful of stomach and gave it a disheartened wiggle, “humans have become quite sedentary as our society evolves. Weirdly I was fitter when I worked around greasy food all day, now that I have a desk job, I’ve sort of let myself go a bit.”
“I have more questions to ask, but it is time to tame that beard and I doubt Olana would be impressed if I slit her playthings throat doing so. You can tell me more of your humans at a different time, and I can compare with those I had the fortune to meet.”
Drake remained silent as Nuala went about her business, her stare fixated on the task at hand. He studied her face, forgetting his own tactic of avoiding any accidental cleavage perving, and was surprised to only now notice the smattering of darker freckles that were brushed across her nose and cheeks; for all the differences he had found a few similarities that reminded him of home.
“There, all done,” Nuala said with some triumph in her voice. “Not a moment too soon, either; I take it you’ve had some success, Olana?”
Drake turned in the bath to see the elfess clutching clothes wrapped up in a dark olive cloak.
“The Council will see us in an hour, which means there is not much time to waste. Let’s get you dried off and dressed.”
“Oh no,” Nuala unpinned the cloth covering in hair and stood up from the stool to take the clothes out of Olana’s hands. “Shae already warned me about letting you two be alone, I’m sure that your pet can dry and dress himself.”
She placed the clothes down on the vacated stool and ushered Olana from the room, much to Drake’s amusement.
Such a strange dream, Drake thought, as he emerged from the hair strewn water.
-----------------------------------
“That is a startling improvement on what we had to deal with.” Shae commented as Drake stepped out into the garden.
The olive cloak, complete with hood, was clasped at the front over his tan coloured tunic. His hair was shorter than it had been in years and, despite not having seen it in a mirror, he could feel just how neat Nuala had managed to shape his beard. Drake couldn’t get too precious over the brown trews which matched his boots, as well as the belt wrapped around his waist. The less said about the undergarments and how little elves appeared to understand how things worked down there the better.
“Is it supposed to be so itchy?” he asked.
“You’ll get used to it, and it will soften with use.” Shae answered. “We’d best get moving if we don’t want to be late.”
“One moment, we can’t precisely emerge with a human amongst us.” Olana said, whilst walking forward to stand within arm’s reach of Drake. “Pull up your hood and don’t lower unless I tell you it is safe to do so.”
Drake complied. As soon as the hood was in place Olana closed her eyes, her face set in concentration. She spoke in the elven tongue and Drake more felt than saw a change happening. By the time she was done he found himself staring straight into Olana’s eyes, which was bizarre since he had been craning to look down at her moments before.
Nuala gasped at the sudden change in Drake’s appearance, and was somewhat irked that the sight did not equally impress Shae; before them stood a cloaked elf, or at least something of elf proportions.
“I have cast a glamour spell upon you. To those but the magically trained you appear like any other elf, though remove that hood and the ruse will quickly be ruined. Nothing has changed about you, save that you will see from where your head appears to be. Do not touch anything, and be conscious of the space your body actually occupies.”
“Duly noted,” he said without any real confidence. “I’ll, err, I’ll follow your lead and see if I can get used to whatever it is you’ve done to me.”
“Excellent. Let’s not dally, we’ve plenty of ground to cover.”
Olana left the garden first, Drake behind her with Shae and Nuala side by side at the rear. He had to will his legs to keep moving forward, for what awaited him outside the sanctuary of Olana’s home was entirely unexpected.
A narrow path, worn in my Olana and her visitors, lead them downhill towards a winding road that bisected the smattering of homes built outside the city walls of Minma Khodel. Far off to his right the road entered a lush forest that stretched out in both directions as far as his eye could see, and he could just spot a horse and cart about to enter the forest’s shade.
“Where does the road lead to?” he asked Olana.
“Ka’puno Forest, as you can see, but beyond there you would drop down to the plains where the world is at your feet. Keep moving west and, if you aren’t careful, you’ll find your way into the lands of Nazgath, where creatures that no man, nor elf, wishes to cross reside; it is also where Everlei now calls home.”
“Sounds ominous, but a hero’s quest is never meant to be easy. How long will it take me to reach Nazgath?”
“You won’t be going anywhere near there, not if I have a say in the matter. I hope you realise soon that all this is very much your reality, and that coming up against Everlei is a very swift death sentence.”
Drake did not wish to argue with the figment, rather he continued following in silence and taking in the amazing scope of his imagination.
Each individual garden and home were different, some far more vibrant in their colourings than others. The homes had privacy from those travelling along the road as each occupied higher ground. Yet it was the city itself, ringed by a wall of stone, that was truly eye catching.
A single white walled tower, taller than any of the buildings around it, speared into the sky from the centre of the city, the stone it was built from twisted into a baffling pattern. Drake had no idea how it would have been constructed, save for by magic or an LSD fuelled architect.
They passed under the wall, joining others that were entering or leaving the city. He looked up at the imposing portcullis suspended above, and the scarred wooden doors to either side; this city had an interesting past that he was definitely going to quiz Olana on later.
It quickly became apparent, as dirt road transitioned to cobbles, that she was leading him towards the great spire. He had to remind himself of Olana’s words of warning just as he began to crane his head to better take in the sight, but he could hardly be blamed for wishing to do so.
The road became gradually steeper and the group climbed towards the marble steps glistening at the tower’s base. Flanking either side of an open doorway were two pairs of elves, garbed in silver armour and holding halberds. The guards had a fixed stare to them, seeming to be focused on the Ka’puno Forest off into the distance.
Olana climbed first, speaking a greeting to one of the elves as she crested the steps. Drake kept his head down as he came to a stop just behind her. There was a short exchange, which for a time Drake feared would culminate with whatever spell he had placed on him being dispersed, but thankfully the guard soon ushered them inside.
“What was all that about?” Drake whispered when they were out of earshot.
“Just some directions that we are to wait outside the council chambers as the current meeting has overrun. The guard was interested in why you kept the hood up, but I quelled her suspicions.”
Olana led on, climbing the winding staircase until it opened up to a large floor. Another doorway greeted them at its centre, guarded be a single pair of armoured elves, except this time the wooden doors were closed to them.
Drake followed her lead and took a seat on a long bench set against the right-hand wall, furthest from the staircase. Since the tower wall was open in several sections of this level he could look out across the city, seeing the various designs of rooftop and how the different alleys and roads crisscrossed in such a haphazard pattern.
“We wait here until called through, just don’t do anything to draw attention towards yourself.”
Drake struggled to hear Olana’s soft voice, but understood the message plain enough. He busied himself gazing out the glassless windows, which more than explained the chill air blustering in, until he heard the oak doors swing open.
Out strode a party, not entirely comprising of elves. Whilst they moved swiftly, at least one amongst them was stockier than he had grown accustomed to seeing, and the mass of curling red hair flowing down her back, pointing his gaze at the narrow waist tapering out to a well-rounded rear, certainly caused her to stick out.
“Come, it’s our turn.” Said Olana, breaking his fixation.
The party rose from their seats and followed her lead, walking through the now open doorway in single file. Before them was the chamber floor, devoid of seating, with three elves peering down at them from behind an elevated stand of dark mahogany as they came to a stop.
“Welcome Olana, apprentice to Elorna. We recognise Nuala, Shae, and-” the elf seated in the middle of the stand stopped mid-sentence and began to sniff. “A glamour? Cease this deception at once!”
“I have to remove the spell, Drake. I’m sorry for not warning you but this won’t be a pleasant experience.”
With little time to brace himself Drake felt himself grow, for want of a better word. His vision blurred momentarily before he could see again, this time at a height he had become rather accustomed to. The trio of gasps in front of him did not bode well.
“What is the meaning of this?” the elf to Olana’s right asked. “How has a human, a male human, come to be before this council?”
“I’ve been trying, without much success, to summon a mate these last five years; I thought it a far simpler task when compared with what the great mages are seeking to accomplish. I scoured the grand library for spells and incantations that have long since fallen from use, and tried everything I could think of. Last evening I was successful, of a fashion, in calling forth a male, just not of the desired race.”
“Do you understand the full implications of your actions?” it was the turn of the first elf to quiz her now. “If Everlei were to get wind of what you have done Minma Khodel, perhaps even all of the Elven kingdom, would be at peril. She has tamed the Orc Lords, gathering their legions to her; for what end we do not yet know.“We are fortuitous that her gaze cannot penetrate so far, but if someone has seen this man then word may yet spread and reach her.”
“High Mage Wynath, I assure you we have been cautious; no one outside this room knows of his existence. There is no danger to our peoples by him merely existing.”
“That may yet be true for today, Olana, but his presence alone is too great a risk for our people. The Council cannot allow him to remain in Minma Khodel, we must do what is best for Elfkind and banish him from our lands.”
Throughout this exchange Elorna, seated beside Wynath, remained quiet, her stare taking in the entirely unexpected sight of a man, who appeared puzzled by the heated debate going on around him. She had to admit a little pride in her own apprentice doing what the senior mages could not.
“Banishment would be a death sentence, as well you know it, Wynath.” Elorna, far more composed than her compatriot, commanded attention without having to raise her voice. “Your judgement is apt to protect the city’s populace, and not one that I would speak against. However, give me time to fashion an Obfuscating pendant such that he may walk the lands safe from Everlei’s sight; I could have it ready by morn.”
“Very well, but I want him gone before noon. Return to your home and await the guards who will come to escort him tomorrow.” Wynath instructed Olana.
“If he is to leave our lands then I will go with him.”
Olana’s words silenced the room, the only sound after she spoke was a shocked gasp from Shae. Drake was entirely confused by the situation, but he did not need to be proficient in the Elfish language to know something bad was going down.
“It is by my doing that he came to be here, it is my responsibility to ensure Drake does not come to suffer harm, or worse, because of my actions.”
“Very well, if you insist on such actions I will grant you leave from your studies to escort him to the plains,” said Wynath. “Before you leave, I want you to provide Elorna with every text you have read, and any notes you have made, along with the precise incantation you used to bring him here. Now, begone so that your master has time to fashion this pendant.”
“What exactly has just happened?” Drake asked as the conversation appeared to come to a close.
“I’ll explain later, for tonight we have to get you ready for Mid-Earth.” Olana answered, a tear running freely down her cheek.
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