I was checking out at Walmart, and as I was reaching for my bags I said, “Happy Holidays!” And the cashier leaned in like she was sharing a secret and said “Merry Christmas.” So I smiled politely and said, “Blessed Yule!” And the look that spread across her face, you would have thought I’d literally stolen Christmas from her.
If you’re going to make a point of wishing me a happy whatever-you-celebrate, I’m going to make a point of wishing you a happy whatever-I-celebrate, and if you think that’s wrong you should consider getting “hypocrite” tattooed across your forehead.
anyway Sherlock Holmes is public domain so catch me writing a story in which Holmes’ seemingly timeless nature is explained in canon as Holmes being a restless preternatural entity discovered (summoned?) by the original Dr. Watson, who acted as its companion/custodian as it careened around doing the only thing that could preoccupy its wildly inhuman mind, ie, getting all up in people’s business and freaking them out with how much shit it knows.
the Holmes entity can die, but always reappears within a generation and without fail seeking out the latest in the Watson line. the Watsons, grown savvy over time, now devote much of their time to a.) preparing the younger members of the family for Holmes’ inevitable return or b.) desperately trying to get the hell out of dodge and live a normal life before it can happen to them as well.
just uuuuh. like a very knowing story about the inevitability of the Holmes and Watson story, centered a creepily inhuman Holmes and the long-suffering family who have spent more than a century documenting it.
OP, please, please, please write this. I will buy and read the shit out of this.
I have been trying to get back to regular updates and new posts on the blog (which its not easy with a full time job :/) so if you like the blog please let people know, share, recommend, leave a tip for coffee, recommend books, etc.
Dan and I bought a thing called “long ziti” from the local Weird Bargain Store, largely as a joke, but…. I have never had a more unsettling pasta experience in my life. They wouldn’t bend enough to cook from top to bottom simultaneously, and while they were cooking boiling water kept spouting out from the tops of them out of the pot, like a boiling pipe organ.
Then they were so long and floppy and hoselike that we couldn’t pick them up with anything other than tongs, and then they were so long and unwieldy that it was basically impossible to sauce them without them all slithering out of the bowl like wet snakes. They then proceeded to cool down almost completely within the the seconds it took to walk to the living room.
Eating them was like eating a bowl full half melted drinking straws.
Bringing back Long Ziti for another round because it’s just too funny
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