Stacy Archives

March 2, 2007

Stacy: You Asked

“And he just looked at me, like I was speaking another language or something.”

“Ma’am..”

“And then he says, ‘What do I look like, honey, Bank of America?’ Can you believe the nerve, talking to me like that?”

“Ma’am, if I could just…”

“I mean, come on, don’t I look respectable? I took a shower, colored my hair, SHAVED MY LEGS!! I even wore panties!”

“Ma’am, please, if you…”

“I mean, I never wear panties. They chafe something awful, you know? And everyone knows, chafing leads to burning, and burning leads to…”

“MA’AM!!”

“I’m sorry, officer, what was the question?”

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March 5, 2007

Stacy: Just Add Water

The water was foul-tasting, choked as it was with the duckweed, and the ice-like shock of it startled her to sharpness. She gulped a great breath before going under, and fought the bonds twisted around ankle and hand, struggling to loosen the knots before they became water gorged. Then she shrugged the rough gunny sack down and kicked it free.

Silently she rose from the shallows of the millpond. Then spoke she harshly unto the gathered and terrified townsfolk.

“Look ye for a witch? Then ye shall have one.”

Many voices raised in terror that day. Then spoke no more.

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March 7, 2007

Stacy: Rebirth

Under cover of darkness the grubbers always came by the hundreds. The guards watched idly via infrared cameras, not paid enough to care, and really only there for show - salve to a nation’s guilty conscience. The agency had been defunct so long it hardly mattered what the grubbers were after anyway. Anything of value was surely long gone. Yet they always found something, gathered up bits and pieces into rickety trundles, before fading back into the darkness.

Then one night a roar shook the night and something climbed into the heavens on a tail of flame. NASA lived again.

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March 8, 2007

Stacy: Capitalism

There it was… newspun cotton, dyed a delicate shade of blue. She reached out a wondering hand to touch it, and was snapped across the knuckles with a ruler.

“No handling the merchandise, you,” growled the shopkeeper, eyeing her over the tops of half-glasses.

She ignored him, imagining wonderful things from the cloth.

“H-how much? I have peppermint,” she added hopefully.

The shopkeeper sneered.

“More than you can afford. And peppermint’s been taken off the exchange, it’s a penny spice now”

She visibly drooped, then brightened.

“Do you accept paprika?”

The shopkeeper’s greedy eyes fairly sparkled.

“Right this way, madam!”

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March 9, 2007

Stacy: Wild Blue Yonder

On March 9th, we all woke up and could fly. Yeah, fly. All you had to do was kick off gently and you were hovering in mid-air. Lean forward a little bit and you were moving, flying. It was more fun than a basket of puppies. Safe to say nobody went to work that day. Lots of accidents, though…too many people in the air with too little common sense. We lost ¾ of the world’s population that day, when they kicked off too hard and couldn’t figure out how to turn around. Plenty of flying room now, there is.

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March 12, 2007

Stacy: New, From Black and Decker...

Dear Dave,

Please clean me.

Love,
Your Coffee Pot

“Very funny, Nancy,” he yawned, fumbling for the filters.

‘Everyone knows cleaning the coffee pot is the best way to ruin the flavor,’ he thought grumpily as he filled the reservoir. He spooned the grounds into the filter basket and pressed the Start button. Nothing happened.

He pressed Start again. The LCD timer blinked once, then began to flash wildly.

“What the…”

The flashing LCD resolved itself into words… CLEAN ME, DAVE…

He yelped as the pot spewed hot water across the front of his shirt.

I SAID CLEAN ME, DAVE…

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March 16, 2007

Stacy: "This is a New Version!"

“A fine strong girl, ma’am.”

She turned her face away.

“Ain’t no such thing.”

The doctor regarded her impassively. He cut the umbilical cord and gently wrapped the baby in a blanket. He wordlessly handed the infant off to the nurse who would deliver it to the orphanage.

A tall man entered the room and looked at the woman in the bed. Sweat-soaked and disheveled, she’d never been more precious to him. But to give up their child…

“Jane… are you sure about this?”

She knew her own limitations, though.

“Shut the fuck up and get me a whiskey, Bill.”

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March 19, 2007

Stacy: Contact

Dotus spun out the nightly tale, firelight reflecting oddly on his painted face. They all knew the stories, had heard them since womb-time, but he was a born logios and held them enraptured.

Nidas shifted uncomfortably as Dotus drew the tale to a close, conscious of the furtive glances sent his way. He couldn’t help it if he were named for the Great One. The looks made him think they expected the same from him, a thought that brought no little terror. He was rescued from his discomfort by little Silea, breathless and tugging at his sleeve.

“Nidas, they’ve come…”

Sequel to Ted's New Spartans tale.

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March 20, 2007

Stacy: Excerpt from the Phsyicker’s Manual on Treating Non-Specific Syckness

After approval by the credit department, install the supplicant in a biobed.

Attach the tubes for Foul Vapors, Tears of Agony and Night Sweats. Do not neglect to open the trap valves or risk ye a flogging by the Sanitation Department.

Use the laser scalpel to open the Ventral Humor and allow two pints of ichor to out. This will cleanse the supplicant of evil spirits. Disinfect and seal the wound with Instaskin.

Attach seven leeches to the supplicant’s abdomen, to prevent spirits from returning. Then remove all hair from the body using the UV razor, and summon the physicker.

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May 24, 2007

Stacy: The Assistant ^TM

Nearly a second skin, The Assistant ™ wasn’t so much a shirt as a symbiont, preventing heat loss, recovering precious moisture. It also repelled rain and bullets, but did sometimes get confused by slow-moving blades. It had 97 pockets, cost a lifetime’s pay, and I could never, ever take it off.

The Assistant ™ powered itself using the natural electricity of my body. Mostly. Every five years it required a full recharge. Complete immersion was required in order to fully replenish its emergency reserves.

I let the still-twitching body drop to the ground and reached for the next screaming donor.

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