Acquisitions Forthcoming

A momentary reprieve, to delve briefly into the Waking Life side of things.

In the latter part of last week, I had developed a plan of attack for the weekend. With pleasant weather imminent, and an old comrade visiting Columbus -- and by extension, me -- I surmised that this would be a perfect occasion to begin procuring such grown-up things as furniture. To date, the apartment in which I sit has maintained a minimal profile; mostly, it houses me, two computers, and a television that is gathering dust. Two recliners, also gathering dust. A quiet existence, and easy to clean!

The battle plan for the weekend involved the aforementioned friend's assistance in transporting a new sofa as well as a dining table set. Playing grown-up must involve material acquisitions.

Also on the agenda was finding fuzzy company, in the form of two young sibling cats from a nearby shelter (Kia and Legacy, as they are currently known).

Unfortunately, the aforementioned friend was unable to travel to Columbus by way of his broken-down vehicle, and the cat shelter seemed to be unexpectedly closed for the weekend, counter to the information provided via a telephone conversation.

No matter; all things, with time. Efforts will continue!

Warfare & Androgyny

I stood atop a small hill overlooking the massive field. The open ground stretched outward to the curved horizon before my line of sight. In front of me, a Tauren army gathered, so violently massive and clamorous and odiferous that I was nearly overwhelmed to tears, even as a passive onlooker. The whole of the immense plain was filled with these impressive bovine warriors, and they were quickly falling into formations that spanned miles apiece. In no time, it seemed they were prepared for battle; millions of Tauren began to stomp the ground, and to bellow and roar in anticipation of the battle to come.

The Tauren emissary returned from the distant reaches of the open plain, with word of their opponents. The innumerable soldiers momentarily quieted, to heed the forthcoming news.

"I can't find them! Are you all quite positive we're in the right place?"

Millions of Tauren stopped stomping the ground, and instead moaned and grunted and ambled back to their tents. Somewhat disappointed, but with newfound curiosity, I approached the Tauren encampment.

I was surprised to find that the warriors had quickly pulled out a number of items, and wares, and placed them on display near their respective areas. With my head down, I approached one of the massive beasts, and inquired into this new development.

Speaking in an unexpectedly high tone, the Tauren before me squeaked, "Oi, these battles. They ain't free. Not free at all. Very expensive! We all have lives, y'see, and these here fights stop us from earning the gold from our Daily Quests." He paused to stomp at the ground, and snorted. "Pity! To recover our losses, we set up shop for you peasants. That's right. We need your money, and we can't just take it from you. No. Quite wrong. Which is why we kindly ask you to buy our wares, help us afford these vicious battles. Good shows, they are!"

"Not today, it wasn't. With all respect, it was like staring at a cow field. Many of you pooped. The piles are still right over there."

"Ah, yes. I'd love to bash you for your crass tongue, but quite right. Quite right. Today was not the finest."

"What is this that you are selling, good sir?" I inquired.

"ACTION FIGURES!" he proclaimed with a broad gesture, sweeping his plated gloves over his merchandise. With glee, I inspected the array of action figures and collectible toys. All were modeled to the likeness of the Tauren fighters, and fully articulated! The detail was incredible; clearly, these were quality action figures, well worth the investment to assist in the funding of the Tauren soldiers, such as the fine cow with whom I had been speaking.

Pointing at a cluster of toys that had caught my eye, I glanced back up to the Tauren and mumbled "...And what of those? They don't seem to match the nature of the other figures."

"Oh, right, the wheelchair crew. Odd lot, there. Yes, you ought not say I told you so, but we honestly haven't a wheelchair crew. We Tauren could hardly sit in the things, let alone fight in them. But, you know how the world is these days. Yes, yes, political correctness all around. Pity, really."

Without commenting further, I purchased a small allotment of figures from the verbose Tauren, and returned to my car, on the other side of the hill. Two of my mafia friends were near my car. I could not remember how I knew them; I didn't even know their names. I also did not know why they were bothering Jackie Chan, who was clearly wearing a costume for a recent film shoot.

"I am no woman!" Jackie Chan shouted at my two estranged mafia acquaintances; to their credit, his costume was an extremely feminine dress, bright and flowery. "This is a costume! A dance scene in my next movie! Stop touching me! Ew!"

I stated the obvious. "Guys, that's Jackie Chan. He's not a woman; stop flirting with him. And check out these sweet Tauren action figures I just bought!"

The two mafia men recoiled, realizing that they had been attempting to grope a man in drag. Jackie Chan frolicked away. The two men glared accusingly at me. I was beginning to suspect that they would not be interested in my new action figures.

"He was going to let us make fools of ourselves! He knew that was Jackie Chan all along! Ugh! Quick, grab him!"

The larger of the two men grabbed both of my arms, and for a moment, I lamented that I never was able to play with my toys. Good lord, this man was huge -- I had not noticed that he was very easily eight feet tall, and frighteningly bulky.

"Break his arms!"

The big man shook my arms slightly. He looked back at his comrade with a pathetic pout, and announced, "Aww, he's too scrawny! I can't get a grip on his little sissy arms!" As though to prove his point, he shook my arms again. He seemed to be telling the truth; his fingers were more massive than my arms, and he lacked the dexterity (and mental fortitude) to consider any other way to break my arms than via his tried-and-true method.

"Oh, he's cunning! Well then, I suppose we'd better take him back and force him to watch Jackie Chan movies until his arms break. Throw him in his car! Get in the backseat, you squab, I'm riding shotgun!"

As I drove the three of us home, I mused quietly, "All right! Jackie Chan movies! This is so awesome!"