Sunday, February 28, 2010

Another great yarn...

Awhile back, I posted about the fabulous tale that I was regaled when I asked my question "What's your story?"

Today, I wandered over to Sixteen Tons which I do periodically to see what's new in her world, and was floored with the story that greeted me, entitled Reptile Love. As anyone who reads my blog knows, I revel in the absurd and unexpected. This yarn is well-told, includes a bit of political intrigue, flirtation and...well, just see for yourself:
"I began to get a little nervous. The guy was mercurial enough already and he didn’t need some Parks functionary irresponsibly inflaming him with the spectacle of turtle hard-ons. The acquaintance sounded like it was prospering in a strange way..."
Nicely written, sledpress. Thank you for this.

Does anyone else have any great stories out there? Tell on!



PJ said...

I was staying in a tipi in the Mission Mountain Wilderness of Montana for two weeks. It was a luxurious tipi, slept 8 if I'd wanted to, with wooden milk-crate bookcases and oil lamps and batik hangings on the walls. There was red shag carpeting on the entire floor with a large circle cut out for the firepit. I mean, this was a real tipi, with a central fire as its main source of heat, and the tipi's sides ended a good four inches above the ground to allow for a smoke-ventilating updraft.

I'd become quite competent at fire-building and flap-adjusting. But I was a city girl, and piled on layers of clothes when it was cold out, and whined loudly and shivered pointedly if the ambient temperature dropped below 22C.

One night at about 3 a.m. I was awakened by a massive thunderstorm. My fire was down to embers, which sizzled and smoked as the rain came in from above. Wearing just underpants and a T-shirt, I ran outside in the pouring rain and carefully walked the 12-foot-long crown poles around the tipi to close the smoke flaps at the top. I made sure the poles were firmly anchored before going back inside.

I lit an oil lamp and checked the firepit to make sure it was out and had stopped smoking. As I crouched there, I noticed I could see my breath. It was that chilly. Yet I didn't feel the cold at all. After ten days of acclimatization, I'd become accustomed to the cold every night. I remind myself of that whenever I open my mouth to whine about being cold.

Lori said...

Great image(s), Peej. Thanks for the yarn. :D