lost time incident 69 – hey, that’s the sex number

lost time incident 69
Greetings from the land of rain-flecked windows. Greetings from the home of hot coffee in a memento mori/Dia de los Muertos mug. Life here is good. We have time to sit on a couch, listening to haunting ambient humming sounds streaming to us from parts unknown wirelessly (recommended via email from a UK author) while updating drivers on this computer in an attempt to find out why audio keeps glitching, as if the processor can’t keep up, as if this laptop wasn’t of recent vintage.

This is today’s biggest problem. This is not a problem. There’s rain outside the window and no war. There’s food and running water here. We’re in the season for a giving of thanks. We have a lot to be thankful for.

And I’d be even more thankful if this damn computer would play music properly.

Hey there, friend! Haven’t written to you in a while. Since you last had one of these show up in your inbox, I had a book come out. Well, technically, it’s a novella-length, I think, and insofar as “book” describes a technology, maybe I should say I had a “story” come out, made available for purchase, under a pseudonym.

The story is called MICROWAVE COVEN and its genre categories are “HORROR” and “APPLIANCE”. It’s the dumbest story I could manage to write and I laughed out loud at my own stupidity a few times while writing it, so I hope you’ll dig it. It’s about a sorority full of witches. Also: a haunted microwave.

This is the second story I’ve had published by the folks at Horrible Vacuum under the George G.G. George pseudonym. The previous story, SWAP MEAT, came out a year ago.

I should probably put something out under my own name next. I mean… I do have another George G.G. George idea as well. But as you may or may not know, while I was working on MICROWAVE COVEN, I was also writing micro-fiction on a site called witches.town, where I had registered because it was thematically appropriate.

Witches.town is a Mastodon instance, which means it’s a micro-blogging platform that shares its posts into a network of other websites that also run the Mastodon platform. It’s like Twitter, but spread across many websites instead of a single Nazi-infested one,  each with its own volunteer admin. I’ve been thinking that I might be able to get a book project out of the material I’ve posted there… a sort of “best of witches.town” project. So… having a ponder about that.

Anyway, here’s some more that I originally published on witches.town:

millennials are killing the harvest god Industry
Unlike those of us born in the late 900s, this generation born circa the year 1000 refuses to choose from among their number an individual to be thrown into a pit, covered in pine, and left as a sacrifice to the harvest gods.

“My cousin died in a pit when I was a youth,” says Bedg, “and we had the sweetest yams the next year.”

“Times change,” says Wim. “We were born in a year with 4 digits. I don’t see how getting tossed in a pit affects the yield at all.”

Several nights of storms indicate the gods’ displeasure, but we’ll update as news is available.


varieties of ghosts
Blue Humbugs – Noted for their pallor, their lack of interest in answering questions, and are moving away from you as the universe expands

Howling Jerries – Technically the loudest of spirits, but you still need to get your ear or spirit horn right up to their mouths to hear them, and you’ll only find out they have opinions. Avoid.

Big Doof – Under my bed and come out, the big doof.

Fingy Glows – They touch y ou in the da rk wif dey FINGIES and you g et so scared you can’t t ype


elderly exchange
It’s Wednesday and we all know what that means! Time to take your elderly down to the village square for the weekly Elder Exchange. Swap out the wrinkled creature who’s been parked by your fire pit all week for a new one that’s slightly different shaped, but will at least have new complaints and may tell new stories. Every bit of lore we know was passed down from these valued elder relatives, so get down there and haggle for the best ones before they’re gone! Wednesdays!

A bit of friendly advice: Don’t trade for the following:

Mushroom-Eyed Ada – She’s all the time talking about how much she can now see since she swapped her eyes for mushrooms. Gross.

Mr. Lump – No one knows his real name, but there’s an old guy under those rags somewhere. Doesn’t talk. Smells a bit. Very active at night.

Dannica Hazelfountain – Only remembers one spell and it turns food into smoke. Only useful if you don’t eat, or if you breathe smoke comfortably. Good way to meet the village fire patrol, though.


well pennies
Please stop tossing pennies into the well. The spirit of the well doesn’t need pennies to grant your wishes. The spirit needs a ladder. It wants to crawl out of the well, dripping with goodwill, grinning with wet teeth, ready to assist young lovers and lonely widows with its wish-granting, moist fingertips.

No more pennies. Can’t eat any more pennies. Only ladder. A ladder in the dark.


ending theme song
So there’s that! The rainy morning has drifted seamlessly into a rainy afternoon and it’s time to get this thing out the door.

Hope you’re staying dry. Hope you’re doing well. Hope this packet of nonsense arrived as a welcome visitor in your inbox.

—Michael Van Vleet

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