July 21, 2022
“How about the Totally Real Crown of All Barnacles?” the young salesperson said.
“Let me guess,” said the customer. “It gives you dominion and command over all barnacles?”
“No, barnacles go their own way and you can’t tell them what to do,” came the reply. “But they will acknowledge you as first among equals and regard you as the moral and symbolic head of all barnacle-kind.”
“So a figurehead monarch. Listen, kid, if I wanted to wear a crown and have no one listen to me, I’d marry a princess.”
July 20, 2022
Grand Duke Herzog, having learned of the magnificent creature called a giraffe, demanded that one be procured for his taxidermy collection in time for his annual ball. His retainers, who to a one had a better grasp of geography than the Grand Duke, knew that there was not enough time to source a giraffe from the wild, nor could they find a willing seller amid the handful of menageries that had one.
Then one of the retainers, a minor noble and amateur taxidermist named Ulfmann, had an idea. Grand Duke Herzog had never seen a giraffe in a menagerie, but had only descriptions and illustrations. The court could easily build an animal to giraffid specifications from spare parts in time for the ball, and then procure a more convincing specimen later. To this end, Ulfmann was granted access to the ducal taxidermy lab and its varied collection of leftovers.
He and a team of twelve others hastily patched together a “giraffe” to the best of their ability. It was really more of a stretched lion, as its back and head were from an African big cat, filled in with deer parts and the occasional bit of leather. For hooves, they helped themselves to the local glue factory, and the giraffe’s small horns were carved down from a stag.
When, at the unveiling, Grand Duke HErzon remarked of the giraffe looked like a stretched lion, his retainers were quick to congratulate him on his powers of perception, for it was the opinion of many learned men that the two were close cousins. Ulfmann, swept up in the throes of his success, even added the detail that lions and giraffes occasionally interbred to produce liraffes.
Much to his consternation and sorrow, the Grand Duke, entranced by the idea, demanded a stuffed liraffe as a surprise birthday present for the Grand Duchess–immediately.
July 19, 2022
“Holy zoinkies, gang!” said brainy Veronica. “This place is built on a crypt!”
“That’s right,” said the gang’s leader, burly Frank. “And that explains how the Apple hauntings were done!”
“Was it old man Werner in a rubber mask?” said ditzy redhead Dolly.
“Like, don’t be ridiculous, man,” replied spacy Shermy, the gang’s cowardly comic relief. “It was necromancy!”
“That’s right,” Veronica said. “By owning the unhallowed ground where the Apple family was laid to rest after the massacre, old man Werner was able to raise their vengeful souls and loose them as revenants on his enemies!”
“And I would have gotten away with it, too,” Werner groused, from his position tied up on the floor. “If not for you meddling dicks!”
July 18, 2022
My friends, let us pause and contemplate the humblest of all vegetables, the spicy yet essential radish. It has fed us when we were hungry, yea even through the lean times of conflict and strife. It has enabled us to survive, when so many others did not.
And that is why it pains me, my flock, to tell you to offer up your radishes now. I know that for many of you they are your last line of defense against the ravages of hunger, but worry not! We are your conduit to the divine, and with the sustenance that your radishes provide, we will intercede on your behalf. We will beg for an end to conflict and strike, for total victory, and bounties not only of radishes but also of turnips and potatoes until that happy day comes.
Give your turnips unto me, O my flock, and find yourself nourished by the divine spirit!
July 17, 2022
Starstation Eureka was famous not just for its location but its cuisine as well. Eureka’s Diner, located in D Ring, was perhaps its most famous eatery, self-described as the “universe’s oldest off-world greasy spoon.” And although the occasional grease fire had made UEN pencilcrats try to shut it down on more than one occasion, the uproar from Eureka personnel and regular visitors was always immediate and loud. They liked their greasy spoon and were willing to risk a zero-G inferno for it.
Perhaps the most famous (infamous?) dish at Eureka’s was the Solar System Pancakes, a nine-course breakfast of dyed and sweetened flapjacks made with Eureka’s ancestral recipe (hint: bacon grease). The experience, served with sides of toast, hash, bacon, and jelly and topped with whipped cream and syrup, begins with tiny Mercury before ramping up to Venus and Earth. Mars presents a bit of a cinnamon breather before the gargantuan citrus swirled Jupiter and Saturn pancakes, the latter made all the larger by the inclusion of its rings. Blueberry Neptune and minty Uranus follow, the latter with chocolate “moons.” Finally comes tiny chocolate swirled Pluto, which Eureka’s refused to demote to minor pancake status.
Doggie bags are available, of course, but anyone who finishes the complete Grand Tour with sides is given a commemorative ballcap and a 10% off coupon. Experienced spacers recognize the caps, and anyone who has done both a real-life Grand Tour and Eureka’s Grand Tour is said to have “broken two belts.”
July 16, 2022
Popcorn mussels, abyssomussus franconii, are so named because they develop ridges on their shells as they age that broadly resemble popped kernels of maize. It’s been said that, when served with butter and salt and lightly seared, the flavor is the same—but at that point, one is really just tasting butter and salt.
Typically, popcorn mussels have cream-colored shells, but on rare occasions patches of mutant mussels will appear in a lavender color, one which makes them largely invisible at their native depth underwater at high tide but incredibly conspicuous at low tide. The lavender mussels have long been sought after as a delicacy by those who think the unusual color imparts an unusual flavor, or good luck. They were reportedly quite prized by the Chinook, and the lavender shells were traded to the Ide for use in fine beads or as a dye.
Despite attestations of their presence in the historical record, a number in possession of museums, and several beaded sets in the possession of the Ide Nation, no lavender popcorn mussels have been found since 1888, leading to speculation that they were a highly localized mutation that has gone extinct.
July 15, 2022
“So if you get blue flavor of ice cream, it’ll be pretty bland, promising a lot more than it can deliver.”
“It looks pretty dumb,” said John. “What about the red flavor?”
“If you get red flavor, the cursed flavor fiend slurps your essence,” the employee said. “Kid’s size, you’ll survive. Small, you’ll be bedridden for a week. Medium, you’ll be out a month and probably lose a limb. Large, and we’ll have to charge you an extra fee to move your lifeless husk out of the way.”
“You’re gonna get the blue flavor, right?” Joan said.
“I dunno,” said John. “I’m kinda 50-50. It’s a dead heat.”
“But the guy literally just said that the blue flavor is disappointing and the red one will kill you. You can’t get the red.”
“Nobody tells me what I can and can’t do,” John snapped. “I’m sure it’s just an exaggeration.”
“Do you really wanna find out?” said Joan.
“I’m not undecided any longer,” John said. “I’ll take the red.”
“Very good, sir. What size?”
“Large, of course!”
July 14, 2022
“The rite has been banned for three centuries, and lost for two,” said Drep, the apprentice necromancer. “Are you sure about this?”
Maer’c, the master necromancer, was unmoved. “Those that banned it were fools, and those that followed the ban even more so,” he groused. “It’s an old and powerful magic needed in this world more so than ever.”
Both Drep and Maer’c were standing before an ancient ossuary, one that they had located only through painstaking research and exploration. It was at the depths of Mad Baron Rolac’s labyrinthine tomb, the part that had been successfully provisioned and sealed after he’d decided he wanted to take all his earthly possessions—and servents—with him, but before he had been overthrown and sealed alive in the upper levels. It was not his ossuary—the Baron’s bones had long been plundered, and Mear’c had rudely kicked them aside as they’d walked by—but it was absolutely one of the old madman’s most cherished possessions.
With one last whispered warning from Drep, brushed lightly aside by Mear’c, they began the work of breaking the runes of binding. It was old magic, once strong but worn out by the passage of time, and soon they had desecrated the last rune and watched the magicks dissipate.
The lid shot off the ossuary, and the sides as well, as the bones within began to caper and dance as they reassembled themselves. Calliope music could be heard from some unknown source as it did so, and before long a complete skeleton, magically animated and articulated, was prancing before them with a showman’s flair and an acrobat’s skill.
“Well hey there!” the undead aberration said with a sorcerous voice, jolly and bubbly at the same time. “I’m Callie Vera, and my only desire is to entertain you!”
“At last,” Mear’c cackled, rubbing his hands together. “We have opened way to learning the secrets of the age-old, time-lost art of Funny Bones.”
July 13, 2022
The 99th Assassin of the Rising Dawn is always the youngest and most inexperienced, which is why they alone bear another duty: that of Harbinger. In the spirit of whatever passes for fair play among the Infernal Powers that Be, the 99th Assassin notifies the target of their fate before attempting to serve it.
The current 99th Assassin is Rerus, an eager recruit who sees himself rapidly climbing the ranks despite the fact that it is almost literally impossible for him to do so. As he has limited experience and even more limited funds, his preferred mode of assassination is to incapacitate the target and then place them in an almost assuredly deadly situation to make it appear like a suicide. There’s no reason for this–the Infernum truly does not care if they are implicated or not–but like many of his brethren in the 99th-90th Assassins, it’s felt that this is a classier way to go, and one that generally makes it more likely that the assassin will not face any significant opposition.
July 12, 2022
For those who have offended the Infernal Powers That Be keenly enough, there is only one punishment that they will accept: death. For this reason, the Infernum has seen fit to retain a legion of killers known as the The 99 Assassins of the Rising Dawn. Whenever someone is marked for death by the inscrutable whims of the Infernum, the 99 Assassins answer the call.
The current 99th Assassin is the first to take the job. If they fail, their own life is forfeit, so the assassin will make as many attempts as are needed to finish the job. In the event that they are killed or incapacitated, the contract will devolve upon the 98th Assassin, who will then carry it out under the same stipulations. The 100th Assassin, a trainee, will then step forward to take the place of the fallen.
An assassination target is usually laid low by the 99th Assassin, but given the trainee-laced nature of the hierarchy, it is not unheard of for a target to survive the first wave of assassination attempts only to be finished off by the 75th Assassin or so. Some particularly troublesome targets have been known to climb the hierarchy still further. Should the target survive all 99 Assassins, an event so rare as to be almost unprecedented, the Infernal Powers That Be will cancel the contract, for they are as impressed by diabolically good work as any.
Excerpts From Nonexistent Books 