
Canto Thirteen – The Plaza of Bones in the Ruined Palaces
Farbick couldn’t see Starbright, but he knew she was immediately to his left as they moved towards a large pile of skeletons and rotting corpses. He could hear her soft footfalls. He was fairly confident in her abilities, something he couldn’t say about most Tellerons.
“Look at these bodies, Mister Farbick,” Starbright whispered through the hostile environment suit comm. “Some of them have been slain violently by the others in this plaza, but some, like this group of three armed lizard men have no visible wounds or other indications of death by violence. The toxic atmosphere by itself is not sufficient to explain the deaths of three such otherwise healthy individuals.”
“Could they have died of disease?” Farbick guessed.
“I don’t know the difference between a healthy-looking lizard man and a sick one, I guess,” she responded. “But I can see nothing wrong with them.”
Suddenly, without warning, a large, muscular lizard man with a full Galtorrian dragon crest on his scaly head leaped up onto a marble portico and glared directly at the invisible searchers. He snorted and sniffed the air.
“Stay quiet,” whispered Biznap from somewhere to the right. “If he can’t see us, he won’t know we’re here.”
But before Farbick could even doubt the reasoning behind the order, the naked Galtorrian warrior was on the back of an invisible Telleron, raking him with claws and biting at what was probably the throat.
“Skortch him!” cried Biznap, the voice coming from a direction that proved the lizard man’s victim was not Biznap.
Skortch rays are not in themselves visible, but as the beam slashed outward from where Biznap was obviously wielding his ray pistol, there was a visible line of sparkles and flashes as the disintegration effect acted on small particles the air was obviously laden with. The shape of a Telleron flared into view as Biznap’s ray connected with one of the cadets who had the misfortune to be standing between Biznap and the monster. The cadet screamed as he dissolved. The other cadet screamed as he died of his wounds and became visible in the clutches of the lizard man. The invisibility cloak, like the hostile environment suit it was attached to, was shredded and shorted out. It obviously had not stopped the predatory lizard man from knowing exactly where his prey was.
The lizard man lifted the cadet’s corpse to throw at either Biznap or one of the other two. He was looking directly at Farbick as Farbick uttered a brief prayer to Charlie the Crocodile God that Biznap was not now between him and the target, and then squeezed off a vaporizing shot that disintegrated the lizard man and the cadet’s body as well.
Biznap immediately uncloaked.
“Well, that was unpleasant,” he said.
Starbright also uncloaked. “Mister Farbick,” she said, “you may as well uncloak. Invisibility is useless against creatures such as these.”
“What do you mean, cadet?” Farbick said as he uncloaked.
“They obviously have heat vision of some sort. They can’t see us with visible light, but they sense us almost as if they can see us. They may have developed some kind of natural thermal imaging in their eyes. Or the creature could have had bionic eyes built in. Didn’t you see the way his eyes flashed with the color red?”
“Yes,” said Biznap. “I wish I had known that before accidentally skortching what’s-his- name.”
“The two cadets were Buckabuck and Whootney, Commander, sir,” said Starbright sadly.
“Oh, yes, well…. I have heard of them, of course,” said Biznap in what could only be interpreted as a guilty voice.
“I’m sure they regret your not knowing more about them than you do, Commander,” Farbick said. He also believed those red shirts weren’t standard issue for a very good reason.
*****

Brekka and the Man-eating Plant (version one)

Brekka and the Man-eating Plant (version two)
Opinions Are Like Onions
“Why does something always smell bad when I am talking?”
Opinions are like Onions.
All you have to do is subtract 3.141592 and they are exactly the same.
The people that like the way they taste like theirs a lot.
They want you to try them.
And if you don’t like the taste, then you just don’t know what’s good for you.
Onions are good for you. They make you fart and they clear out the bad gasses made up of methane and other toxic waste from your colon and digestive tract.
Opinions are good for you too. They make you fart out of the mouth, clearing bad gasses made up of stupidity and toxic ideas out of your little old brain. You should not be holding that stuff in. It is poisonous and it could potentially explode. Not something you want to happen in either the colon or the brain. Only stupid people hang on to them in the face of contradictory evidence. (It makes me nervous that I don’t see people exploding more often, because I hold the opinion that there really are a lot of stupid people out there. I, too, am probably in danger of exploding at some point.)
And see, that’s the important point here. Opinions are only as valuable as fart gas. For the all-important progress of ideas to really happen, opinions have to be tested. And I don’t mean opinions like whether or not you like the taste of onions. I am talking about opinions that lead to policy. Politics are crammed full of opinions. (I got that right, didn’t I? I didn’t say “onions” when I actually meant “opinions”, right?)
Hillary Clinton is apologizing now for the opinion-based fart-gas of saying that “half of Donald Trump’s supporters are deplorable people”. The facts are that the KKK has voiced support for Trump, as have a number of immigrant-hating racists like Ann Coulter who will tell you in detail about all her onions concerning Mexicans and brown people. People at Trump’s rallies have physically assaulted black people and protesters of any variety. And to “deplore” someone is to speak out against their ideas or actions. So the critical word that is not a fact, but rather an onion, must be “half”. This is the word where Hillary went wrong. I am sure that “half” is an under-estimation.
And Mr. Trump, as a connoisseur of truly stinky onions has said that Clinton and Obama are literally the founders of ISIS. And in his onion, Vladimir Putin is a stronger leader than President (of this country) Obama. One wonders why no one has really sliced and diced these particular onions. One imagines that if Hillary were the chef serving these onions, no one would be willing to have them in the dining room, let alone eat them. Onions need be tested for flavor and rightness long before they are served.
So, to close up this onion-smelling essay before it makes me fart again, let me just say, we need to not get stuck in the onion patch and mistakenly convince ourselves we are smelling roses. Roses shouldn’t make you cry.
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Tagged as Donald Trump, Hillary Clinton, humor, onions, opinions, paffooney, politics, politics and goofiness