It’s daylight savings time and we all know what that means! Time to black out our windows and bar our doors, same as last year, so the Newest Hour, newly born into our world and ravenous, teeth made of the sharpest of minutes, is kept from making a meal of our loved ones. All it takes is one crack for it to wiggle in! Stay young and wrinkle free, indoors for the full day, and may the Newest Hour feast on some OTHER lost souls out there in the dark.
It’s Friday and we all know what that means! Time to figure out how to get this chicken, fox and bag of grain across this dang river! Okay. We can do this. First, gather the village elders. We’ll need the strength of their blood. We’ll need a mixing bowl. Where are the stars? GARY GOSHDANGIT you’re on star-watching duty now TELL US WHERE THE STARS ARE! Oh, and a shivering thing has already snatched the chicken beneath the rock pile. Every week this happens, Gary. GARY! C’MON!
It’s Tuesday and we all know what that means! We’ve failed! We failed to present the birth and horror of another Tuesday! All those clocks we murdered in the town square. All those calendars at the bottom of our lake. Go free from our prisons those damned souls and their wristwatches… they’ve won. There’s nothing more we can do. Our skins are wrinkling. We are collapsing in a hell of undoing: terrible, terrible Tuesday, cruel despot on its fixed throne!
1) Do not touch the OFF switch located between her shoulder blades. I forgot to document what that controls and it might be important.
2) Check with your preferred physician or mechanist to receive confirmation that you don’t have any x-ray-related allergies.
3) Use encryption.
4) Leave me out of it, weirdo.
It’s Wednesday and we all know what that means! It’s time to head down to the Star Chamber downtown to chain more stars together! If there are any stars in the sky that are not yet in constellations, by secret ballot shall we name and bind them, so no star rises above its station, or dares to approach. Every constellation a prison, every star immobile! A sacred responsibility! Search the skies, damn you! Even even one gets through, we’ll all burn!
1) Peel their husks in an Autumn field and be the first person to greet their vegetable grins as they leave the stalk.
2) Dig them free from the shallow mud behind the pens and baptize them with a garden hose
3) Set up body-sized lightning traps on the barn roof when heavy clouds roll in and capture cousins as they bolt from the heavens
4) See if your aunts or uncles have any kids
5) Rest in the sun ’til your skin tightens, then carefully peel yourself to find the cousin within
It’s Follow Friday! This week, we recommend following:
Ash of Outside – He never looks behind him! You can follow him through the woods, under bridges, and even into the damp hole he calls home and he won’t notice. Follow away!
The Gelded Twins – Everyone who follows them ends up losing them in the Carnival of Silk. Maybe you’ll be the first to dodge the silk-weavers and their cold eyes and find out where the Twins roost!
Yours Truly – Not a trap! You can follow me! I’ll move slowly! You don’t need a torch where we’re going! Follow me! And when the air gets musky with spores, breathe deeply! It’ll help with the following!
It’s Friday and we all know what that means! It’s time to venture under our homes into the cool caverns in search of mushrooms! You’ll recognize them by their sightless eyes, their rubbery flesh, and the strange sounds they make when they’re harvested. These sounds sometimes resemble phrases, like “Who’s there?” and “Not again!” and “The Elders said these caves were safe! Life is a short misery!” Is this a form of camouflage? Our minds finding patterns where there are none? Who knows! Keep your knives sharp, your flashlights handy, and you should have a week’s worth of mushrooms in no time!
Oh sure, everyone laughed when I carved replicas of them out of butter, but who’s laughing now? It’s my butter friends, and their laughter takes the form of goopy rivers dripping down their cheeks because we’re enjoying a day at the The Beach That Forbids the Presence of Doubters. That’s the official name, it’s on the sign and everything, and you’d know that if you were here or made of butter.
It’s Thursday and we all know what that means! Time to grab your Whisper Journals and meet at the town’s center to compare notes! What have the Cold Voices hissed at you from under beds, from behind heavy furniture, from under the floorboards this week? Have any names been repeated? Are they still talking about me? If we don’t write it all down, we’ll never know when the hissing stories align into truth!