Not-Exactly-Chopped-Liver Fiction™
a could-be-worse division of None-Too-Shabby Enterpises, Ink
PRESENTS :
The History of Gin
or
A Fox's Tail©
Is Life Existential? You Decide.
by ' Colorado ' Gumi
...I n s p i r e d By T r u e E v e n t s...
Chapter 23
Ginny Hears from Her Granny
or
A Fox's Tail©
Is Life Existential? You Decide.
by ' Colorado ' Gumi
...I n s p i r e d By T r u e E v e n t s...
Chapter 23
Ginny Hears from Her Granny
It was about this time that Ginger found herself skirting the periphery of a new religious movement building rapidly in the college scene. In actual fact the hype was winding down -- Madonna had converted to it with much ceremony and hoopla about a month ago then left for a hipper religion last week. But anyway, it was named "The Celestial Wank." Wankers, as they self-identify, don't worship a god nor even gods, per se, so much as a big crater on the planet Venus that was revealed to the World eight weeks ago in a splendid National Geographic photo spread. They call it "The Holy Hole." Then they also worship a mountain peak on Mars (not the one with the goofy face). They call it "The Pokey Peak." They believe that at some time in the rapturous future The Pokey Peak and The Holy Hole will... well, you get the idea. Suffice to say when it happens, things on Earth will change lots. But the good news is fungi finally get their big chance to rule the planet. Gin was dabbling in this religion to placate a friend who was dabbling in it to placate a friend who was dabbling in it to meet chicks -- kinda like the way people got "sucked" into the American Communist Party back in the Thirties ...at least that's what they said in the Fifties. She had even recently attended a worship service as her friend's guest. She found it similar to a Frat Party at Cornell, only with less drinking and more fornication (if that's possible) -- as far as the comparative amount of drugs done, it was a wash.
Now as Ginny sat reflecting by a window in her law school classroom she resolved to forego further immersion in The Celestial Wank -- it seemed awful avant-garde, plus it was misnamed since the whole thing is predicated on a cosmic rogering, not a wank. Anywho, the more traditional religions ...even rattlesnake handling in the backwoods of Appalachia... were more her cup of tea.
With that decided, Gin's reverie was disturbed suddenly by the bright flashy lights that typically herald arrival of either a flying saucer or Donald Trump. Wondering if anyone else noticed, she glanced quickly about the classroom but everyone was obliviously busy applying makeup, gabbing on the phone or cybering in Yahoo chat rooms. Ginny watched warily as the boxy brown spacecraft settled on the meticulous Cornell landscaping a little ways from the building. She continued watching warily as a doorway slid open and a small, gray-toned alien dressed in brown shorts, brown short-sleeve shirt and brown baseball cap hopped down, paused there on the new-mown dirt then looked straight at the very law school window framing her wary and watchful face. She maintained the watchfully wary vigil as the entity disintegrated with a 'pop' and instantaneously reintegrated with a 'sizzle' beside her in the classroom, winked -- only it's eye closed sideways -- and proffered a large bubblewrap-padded envelope along with something to sign. Once Gin had scrawled her signature along the line, illegibly to thwart identity-thief, the alien popped and sizzled his way back inside the craft, which disappeared with another flash or two. She was stunned to see her classmates, occupied yet with their study of law, still had noticed nothing. Ginny decided not to hazard opening the envelop until she got home.
For the past year Ginger had been researching her family history. She had put off examining the Balkan side of the family ...generally, one isn't in a big hurry to know "Vlad the Impaler" is your granddaddy... but rather was pursuing her roots amid the relatively passive Viking and Celtic hoards of her paternal forebears. Just the night before she had stumbled on the obscure fact that the iconic British "Tommy" helmet of World Wars I and II, known as the "'Brodie' Helmet", was invented and patented well before WWI by her father's great-grandfather (her great-great-grandfather) in Ireland as the "Irish Drinking Cap." He developed the heavy steel helm because his son (her dad's grandfather and her great-grandfather) consistently came home "falling-down-drunk" with head injuries requiring a doctor's care. As at the time a majority of the Irish nation suffered the same "disability", the new headwear (aka "Paddy's Derby") was an immediate sensation and success ...among both sexes. This was the origin of the Mullins family fortune -- since he sold the rights to an Englishman at gunpoint for the price of a pint of bitters -- and is a fine and proud legacy.
In fact we with shared Irish Heritage are uncommon lucky the English came over and subjugated the island. . .emasculated the men. . .ravaged the women. . .murdered the children. And it was good when they took all the food as it left more room in the cupboards for other stuff -- like air and dust. They were doing essentially the same thing in their own country so it was like one big happy family.
Irregardless, when Ginny got home she cleared the desk of this research, gingerly lay her alien "express mail" upon the blotter and, having armed herself with the ancestral Claymore, warily opened the envelope’s seal. Nothing dangerous happened, which is always a good sign.
Wary and watchful, she removed a letter typed in hot-pink 'Comic Sans' 12 pt. font (also my fav.) that read as follows:
"Dearest Darling Ginny,
Probably the last thing you expected ever to get is a letter from your ol' Granny Tina who tread the Earth a thousand generations ago. Nonetheless, here it is.
First I want to send my love and apologize for all the Birthdays I missed, but then I DO have 712,345,988 great-great-great...great grand daughters after all. Regardless, I am very, very proud of you and hope you can forgive my oversight.
Your Grandpa Ogg and I both are alive and well and living in a comfy Inter-Dimensional Time-Warp on a pleasant planet circling the binary star system you know as Sirius, the Dog Star. Funny thing is. . .after I married your grandpop and had a couple babies, I was grabbed by some Super-Intelligent Space Aliens in one of the first instances of Alien Human Abduction. You might wonder at the astronomical odds against this sorta thing happening to your grandma but it all makes sense cause we were some of the first humans -- the Laws of Statistics dictate that when there are only twelve interrelated human women in Europe, if a Space Alien flies down and grabs one, chances are it'll be your granny. And they never have been able to explain to me why they do this abduction thingy. ...I believe they just get some kinda lame, kinky jolly out of it -- once they get back home again I think they're kinda embarrassed about it, like a Spring Break in Panama.
Anyways, they brought me here where I had the run of the place. After a few years passed on Earth we returned and picked up Ogg, who was managing to fornicate himself to death in the absence of my firm will and sharp tongue. Under the influence of the Inter-Dimensional Time-Warp here and the portable Temporal-Stasis Flocculators we carry off the planet, neither Ogg nor I have aged more than a few weeks -- I had my 30,021st birthday last month but am really only just 21 years old (on my next trip to Earth I'm finally getting my ID then I'm getting totally wasted - WOO HOO!!!).
By the way, we do travel far and wide and often visit Earth. In fact, for a giggle, I got a job at a nearby Starbucks and served you coffee several times ...I always give you extra foam and sprinkles (LOL - I'm the one who flashes you that big, happy smile !!!). I must say you've blossomed into a beautiful woman, which you get from my side of the family. THANK GOD you didn't inherit your Grandpa Ogg's Hairy Back. NOR, for that matter, his crude humor. Talk about a throwback to the apes. . .sometimes I'm tempted to run him through a Transporter, realign his atoms, and bring him back as a young Jon Stewart. But I DO LOVE that old Cro-Magnon.
<<< Sudden Flash of Insight >>> We're the same size and age -- except I'm a couple years younger (gloat...gloat) -- so's we can share outfits next time I'm there. . .I have tons of awesome Fendi and Prada, do you like them ???
I must say, just between us girls here, that Grandpa Ogg and I both were a little wary and watchful when your father showed up years ago. . .You see, we knew his family. His great-to-the-thousandth-power grandfather and grandmother, Br-o and D-ee, were our next-door neighbors, living in the hollowed-out dead tree beside our comfortable cave-home overlooking the Black Sea. They were Neanderthal, which explains it all -- We, of course, are Cro-Magnon. Anyways, they inhabited the tree for a long time until a near-sighted mastodon knocked it over one moonless night while backing up to pooh. They lived under a rock for a short time thereafter while Br-o worked on something. . .he called it "Do-m", then pulled up stakes and moved south to settle in Peloponnesia. I think the children eventually became Greek, or maybe it was Macedonian. One thing I do know is all THAT family's menfolk were definitely "Roamin'." Regardless, your dad seems to have straightened out fine with only occasional lapses of Vandal-ism and other old family ways. I admit we were just being over-protective, as is a parent's wont, even parents orbiting Sirius.
And I'm one to talk... you know what that old dog Ogg did one time ?? ?? He snuck off and played "Leonardo da Vinci" for several Earth decades while I pursued a perambulation of improving travel about the Galaxy. When I returned to find out, I zipped to Earth (I mean literally "zipped", that's the noise the Interstellar Transportation Flocculator makes) and caught him in the middle of something I won't describe with a greasy tub-of-lard named Lisa he was supposed to be painting (and he was; matter of fact). Needless to say, the reason for that famous enigmatic smile is I knocked her frikking teeth out.
Anyways, I better wrap this letter up and send it. Hope the delivery isn't too much of a shock -- Space Aliens seem to cause such a trauma on Earth.
Again I send my deep love and sincere hope that you meet a nice Homo-Sapiens boy and raise a big family of humans just like Ogg n' me.
With Endless Love,
your Granny Tina and Grandpop Ogg
P.S. Isn't Britney Spears a Skank ???!! love again, Ur granny"
Upon concluding the letter, Ginny blinked a brimming dampness from her eyes, released a wistful sniffle and retired -- lots happier -- for the night.
Now as Ginny sat reflecting by a window in her law school classroom she resolved to forego further immersion in The Celestial Wank -- it seemed awful avant-garde, plus it was misnamed since the whole thing is predicated on a cosmic rogering, not a wank. Anywho, the more traditional religions ...even rattlesnake handling in the backwoods of Appalachia... were more her cup of tea.
With that decided, Gin's reverie was disturbed suddenly by the bright flashy lights that typically herald arrival of either a flying saucer or Donald Trump. Wondering if anyone else noticed, she glanced quickly about the classroom but everyone was obliviously busy applying makeup, gabbing on the phone or cybering in Yahoo chat rooms. Ginny watched warily as the boxy brown spacecraft settled on the meticulous Cornell landscaping a little ways from the building. She continued watching warily as a doorway slid open and a small, gray-toned alien dressed in brown shorts, brown short-sleeve shirt and brown baseball cap hopped down, paused there on the new-mown dirt then looked straight at the very law school window framing her wary and watchful face. She maintained the watchfully wary vigil as the entity disintegrated with a 'pop' and instantaneously reintegrated with a 'sizzle' beside her in the classroom, winked -- only it's eye closed sideways -- and proffered a large bubblewrap-padded envelope along with something to sign. Once Gin had scrawled her signature along the line, illegibly to thwart identity-thief, the alien popped and sizzled his way back inside the craft, which disappeared with another flash or two. She was stunned to see her classmates, occupied yet with their study of law, still had noticed nothing. Ginny decided not to hazard opening the envelop until she got home.
For the past year Ginger had been researching her family history. She had put off examining the Balkan side of the family ...generally, one isn't in a big hurry to know "Vlad the Impaler" is your granddaddy... but rather was pursuing her roots amid the relatively passive Viking and Celtic hoards of her paternal forebears. Just the night before she had stumbled on the obscure fact that the iconic British "Tommy" helmet of World Wars I and II, known as the "'Brodie' Helmet", was invented and patented well before WWI by her father's great-grandfather (her great-great-grandfather) in Ireland as the "Irish Drinking Cap." He developed the heavy steel helm because his son (her dad's grandfather and her great-grandfather) consistently came home "falling-down-drunk" with head injuries requiring a doctor's care. As at the time a majority of the Irish nation suffered the same "disability", the new headwear (aka "Paddy's Derby") was an immediate sensation and success ...among both sexes. This was the origin of the Mullins family fortune -- since he sold the rights to an Englishman at gunpoint for the price of a pint of bitters -- and is a fine and proud legacy.
In fact we with shared Irish Heritage are uncommon lucky the English came over and subjugated the island. . .emasculated the men. . .ravaged the women. . .murdered the children. And it was good when they took all the food as it left more room in the cupboards for other stuff -- like air and dust. They were doing essentially the same thing in their own country so it was like one big happy family.
Irregardless, when Ginny got home she cleared the desk of this research, gingerly lay her alien "express mail" upon the blotter and, having armed herself with the ancestral Claymore, warily opened the envelope’s seal. Nothing dangerous happened, which is always a good sign.
Wary and watchful, she removed a letter typed in hot-pink 'Comic Sans' 12 pt. font (also my fav.) that read as follows:
"Dearest Darling Ginny,
Probably the last thing you expected ever to get is a letter from your ol' Granny Tina who tread the Earth a thousand generations ago. Nonetheless, here it is.
First I want to send my love and apologize for all the Birthdays I missed, but then I DO have 712,345,988 great-great-great...great grand daughters after all. Regardless, I am very, very proud of you and hope you can forgive my oversight.
Your Grandpa Ogg and I both are alive and well and living in a comfy Inter-Dimensional Time-Warp on a pleasant planet circling the binary star system you know as Sirius, the Dog Star. Funny thing is. . .after I married your grandpop and had a couple babies, I was grabbed by some Super-Intelligent Space Aliens in one of the first instances of Alien Human Abduction. You might wonder at the astronomical odds against this sorta thing happening to your grandma but it all makes sense cause we were some of the first humans -- the Laws of Statistics dictate that when there are only twelve interrelated human women in Europe, if a Space Alien flies down and grabs one, chances are it'll be your granny. And they never have been able to explain to me why they do this abduction thingy. ...I believe they just get some kinda lame, kinky jolly out of it -- once they get back home again I think they're kinda embarrassed about it, like a Spring Break in Panama.
Anyways, they brought me here where I had the run of the place. After a few years passed on Earth we returned and picked up Ogg, who was managing to fornicate himself to death in the absence of my firm will and sharp tongue. Under the influence of the Inter-Dimensional Time-Warp here and the portable Temporal-Stasis Flocculators we carry off the planet, neither Ogg nor I have aged more than a few weeks -- I had my 30,021st birthday last month but am really only just 21 years old (on my next trip to Earth I'm finally getting my ID then I'm getting totally wasted - WOO HOO!!!).
By the way, we do travel far and wide and often visit Earth. In fact, for a giggle, I got a job at a nearby Starbucks and served you coffee several times ...I always give you extra foam and sprinkles (LOL - I'm the one who flashes you that big, happy smile !!!). I must say you've blossomed into a beautiful woman, which you get from my side of the family. THANK GOD you didn't inherit your Grandpa Ogg's Hairy Back. NOR, for that matter, his crude humor. Talk about a throwback to the apes. . .sometimes I'm tempted to run him through a Transporter, realign his atoms, and bring him back as a young Jon Stewart. But I DO LOVE that old Cro-Magnon.
<<< Sudden Flash of Insight >>> We're the same size and age -- except I'm a couple years younger (gloat...gloat) -- so's we can share outfits next time I'm there. . .I have tons of awesome Fendi and Prada, do you like them ???
I must say, just between us girls here, that Grandpa Ogg and I both were a little wary and watchful when your father showed up years ago. . .You see, we knew his family. His great-to-the-thousandth-power grandfather and grandmother, Br-o and D-ee, were our next-door neighbors, living in the hollowed-out dead tree beside our comfortable cave-home overlooking the Black Sea. They were Neanderthal, which explains it all -- We, of course, are Cro-Magnon. Anyways, they inhabited the tree for a long time until a near-sighted mastodon knocked it over one moonless night while backing up to pooh. They lived under a rock for a short time thereafter while Br-o worked on something. . .he called it "Do-m", then pulled up stakes and moved south to settle in Peloponnesia. I think the children eventually became Greek, or maybe it was Macedonian. One thing I do know is all THAT family's menfolk were definitely "Roamin'." Regardless, your dad seems to have straightened out fine with only occasional lapses of Vandal-ism and other old family ways. I admit we were just being over-protective, as is a parent's wont, even parents orbiting Sirius.
And I'm one to talk... you know what that old dog Ogg did one time ?? ?? He snuck off and played "Leonardo da Vinci" for several Earth decades while I pursued a perambulation of improving travel about the Galaxy. When I returned to find out, I zipped to Earth (I mean literally "zipped", that's the noise the Interstellar Transportation Flocculator makes) and caught him in the middle of something I won't describe with a greasy tub-of-lard named Lisa he was supposed to be painting (and he was; matter of fact). Needless to say, the reason for that famous enigmatic smile is I knocked her frikking teeth out.
Anyways, I better wrap this letter up and send it. Hope the delivery isn't too much of a shock -- Space Aliens seem to cause such a trauma on Earth.
Again I send my deep love and sincere hope that you meet a nice Homo-Sapiens boy and raise a big family of humans just like Ogg n' me.
With Endless Love,
your Granny Tina and Grandpop Ogg
P.S. Isn't Britney Spears a Skank ???!! love again, Ur granny"
Upon concluding the letter, Ginny blinked a brimming dampness from her eyes, released a wistful sniffle and retired -- lots happier -- for the night.
To Be Continued
