Posts Tagged ‘ceiling turtles’

I’m Exhausted; Have a Landsquid

I really meant to have an interesting post for you guys today, Squiders. I know we’ve done a lot of talking recently about publishing and mythology and I feel like some of you guys probably haven’t been getting the articles you want (and, please, if there’s more of something you’d like to see, leave a comment and I shall make it so).

But between freelance work, contract writing, and marketing, I’m burnt out.

So I drew you a landsquid. Actually, I drew you several landsquid, both by hand and by tablet, and the first eight were terrible. The Landsquid is as tried as I am. (Also, he has ceiling turtles. At least I am currently free from that scourge.)

TiredLandsquid

If you haven’t been by the website lately, there’s new bonus material and extras, as well as more information about Shards itself, including a book description. New stuff continues to go up on the Pinterest board, and here’s the first review of Shards.

Nominated for the Liebster Award

Last week while I was frolicking about New England and Canada, Siri Paulson nominated me for the Liebster Award, which I had honestly never heard of before. Siri writes about writing, books, and other interesting things, and I highly recommend following her. She puts a lot more work and thought into her entries than I do.

(No relation to the Apple AI. Or is there? Duh duh duuuuun…)

liebster-award

Here’s the rules for the award as per Siri:

1. Each nominee must link back the person who nominated them.

2. Answer the 10 questions which are given to you by the nominator.

3. Nominate 10 other bloggers for this award who have less than 400 followers. (I am…not actually sure I qualify on this.)

4. Create 10 questions for your nominees to answer.

5. Let the nominees know that they have been nominated by going to their blog and notifying them.

Here are the questions Siri left:

1. Star Wars or Star Trek?

You know, don’t you, Squiders? Trek, of course. There’s something about it that resonates somewhere. Or it might just be that I have literally been watching it since birth. Who knows? It’s not that I don’t like Star Wars as well–I especially enjoy the original trilogy, and a lot of the books–but if I have to pick one, it’s the one that boldly goes.

2. What’s your favourite item of clothing? Why?

I am especially partial to tall boots and sweaters. So hoorah for it finally being autumn!

3. What do you like best about blogging?

The captive audience. >_> No, no, I like that it forces me to write something a few times every week, especially if I’m in a spot in my projects, such as editing or submitting, where not much writing is being accomplished otherwise.

4. If you could live in another country, which one would it be?

I would very much like to move to Bavaria in Southern Germany, or northern Austria. We visited a few years ago, and perhaps it is just because it is the land of (some of) my ancestors, but I really liked it. The landscapes! The people! The culture! The ruined castles! Mmm, ruined castles.

5. Tea or coffee?

Tea. And even if I didn’t adore tea (perhaps too much?), coffee melts my stomach lining. Alas, it is too acidic for me.

6. Oceans or mountains?

Mountains mountains mountains. Give me a tall peak covered in trees, and I will be happy forever. This is probably in evidence on my Nature board on Pinterest.

7. What are you reading right now?

I’ve just started Murder With Peacocks by Donna Andrews. It looks like my favorite sort of cozy mystery, so I am excited for it. And I’m also reading The Moon Pool by A. Merritt, which is sort of Jules Verne-y science fiction. I am enjoying it quite a bit as long as I ignore the science bits.

8. Tell us a memory from when you were a kid.

When I was about 8, I convinced my younger cousins and sister that the spotlight in the sky (none of us, myself included, had any idea what it actually was) was a UFO coming to kidnap us. And when they ran off to tell on me, I hid so they’d think I’d been abducted.

I got in a bunch of trouble for that one, but I regret nothing.

9. Who’s your favourite superhero (or supervillain)?

I am not really a fan of the superhero subgenre, but I do like Batman (especially the Animated Series version), and I am currently fond of Thor, not just because he’s played by Chris Hemsworth (though that certainly helps).

10. Vampires, werewolves, or zombies?

I am not really a fan of any of the above. It’s not just because they’re done to death; there’s just something about them that doesn’t do it for me. If I had to pick one, I’d go werewolves. At least they’re not undead.

I’m not sure I know 10 blogs that qualify for the Liebster Award, but I will nominate a few here, to do as they please, and if you’d like me to add you on, please let me know and I shall. But I nominate:

1. Ian Dudley

2. Audrey Goshorn

3. Dianna Bell

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to answer the following:

1. What is your favorite ’50s-’70s era television show?

2. Why did you decide to start a blog?

3. Is this your first blog?

4. What’s the best book you’ve read in the last year?

5. Marvel or DC?

6. Kirk or Picard?

7. If a landsquid knocked on your door, would you give him a cookie?

8. How does it make you feel that it is already October?

9. Would you rather be attacked by ceiling turtles or a pack of telekinetic squirrels?

10. If you could have any animal in the world as a pet, what would it be?

Of Sulking Alpacas and Scones

Landsquid left his house through the front door, carrying a basket of freshly made chocolate chip scones (which are the best kind) over one tentacle. He steeled himself, then quickly hurried down his front walkway, around the fence, and up to his neighbor and arch-nemesis Alpaca’s front door. He paused for a moment, listening, but there was no movement.

Landsquid hadn’t seen or heard from the Alpaca since he had attempted to take over the blog at the beginning of June. He’d been on house arrest ever since. Oh, Landsquid had been mad at first. There’d been the whole incident with being locked in the Alpaca’s basement with the ceiling turtles. FOR A WEEK. But at least he’d had some cocoa and Cheez-Its, and the ceiling turtles weren’t too bad, as long as you ignored them trying to gnaw on your head fins.

Landsquid paused for a moment to wonder what had happened to the ceiling turtles. Were they still in the basement? Had they escaped and made their way out into the wide world to find someone else’s head to drop on, or had they infiltrated the main part of the house, where the Alpaca was forced to stay?

That could be why Landsquid hadn’t seen him in a while. Hm.

Although, if the Alpaca was dealing with a ceiling turtle infestation, he’d been much too quiet about it. Landsquid had gotten used to the loud yelling that often drifted over the fence at even the most benign of times. But now, he’d been quiet for months. Landsquid was worried. It’d taken years to build up their relationship to the proper level of arch-nemesis-ness.

Before he could chicken out, Landsquid straightened his basket of scones and knocked soundly on the front door. At first, there was nothing, but then a long, strange dragging noise, just barely audible, started towards the door. It did not sound like the Alpaca at all. Landsquid clutched his basket tighter and debated fleeing. What was that noise, all slithery and light? He had horrible visions of some sort of forgotten creature, long resting in some deep, dark place, burrowing its way to the surface.

That could also explain why he hadn’t seen any ceiling turtles either. They’d be the first–and possibly the last–line of defense.

The door opened. Landsquid drew back, ready to flee if necessary, but it was an alpaca, wearing a ridiculously long afghan. Upon closer inspection, it was the Alpaca, though his usual mustache and monocle were nowhere to be seen. Instead, along with the afghan, he was wearing some sort of bonnet, and he had a pleasant smile on his face.

“Uh,” said Landsquid, thoroughly baffled. “How are you holding…up?”

“Oh, fine, fine,” said the Alpaca. “I’ve taken up knitting, you see. Very calming. Cheap–well, for me, anyway–too. Don’t have to leave the house, even if I could!”

Around the Alpaca’s fluffiness, Landsquid could see what looked like several ceiling turtles, crawling around on the floor, of all places, wearing turtle-shaped sweaters and booties.

“You should come in,” the Alpaca continued. “I’ve just got some new yarn spun. It’s a lovely shade of light yellow. It’d really bring out your eyes.” He kind of leered as he spoke. And not the typical ‘I am contemplating great evil’ leer that Landsquid was accustomed to, but more of a ‘I have been around yarn and ceiling turtles for too long and would like to knit you into a full-body stocking from which you will never escape, and then I shall feed you bon-bons and talk to you as if you weren’t really there’ sort of leer.

“Oh, no,” said Landsquid. “I’m afraid I can’t now. I’ve got to…wash my hair. But I brought you these scones, as, you know, sort of a ‘Don’t worry about trying to conquer my livelihood and feed me to ceiling turtles’ thing, you know.” He thrust the basket at the Alpaca. “Hope you like them. But I must be going I’m afraid. Yes, yes, well, I’ll see you later.”

He backpeddled up the walk and back towards his own house. As he went, he thought he might have heard the Alpaca whisper, “Yes, yes, you will.”

Alpaca Overlord Week: My Rise to Power

Today, I will tell you, my minions, of how I overcame Kit and her accursed landsquid to rise above the odds, to conquer trials and tribulations, and to inspire you with feelings of my greatness.

And to warn you that if you ever attempt anything similar, I shall crush you underneath my hooves and destroy everything and everyone you have ever loved.

Remember: top-secret and highly-trained genetically-engineered llama spies. EVERYWHERE. Even, possibly, your cat. I will know what you’re thinking possibly even before you yourself know. SO BEWARE.

I started with the Landsquid. Oh, he thought he was so smart, sticking ceiling turtles over my fence and inviting me over to watch sporting events and drink cocoa and occasionally foiling my schemes to steal all the top hats. Thought I’d never realize what he was up to. WELL. It was easy enough to suggest we watch the game at my house instead, and then, when he came over, I locked him in the basement with all those Sky Shark-forsaken ceiling turtles.

When I close my eyes, I can still hear his cries. Delightful.

Kit was a bit harder since I am, after all, a fictional character, but luckily I’ve seen enough Star Trek the Next Generation to learn from one Professor James Moriarty on how to break the fourth wall and escape into a world one was never supposed to belong to. Bwhahahaha!

I’m sure she never suspected she’d have to contend with her own creations. That’s the only way I can explain her total lack of preparedness. After all, she created me, so one would hope she was usually more up to snuff in terms of international espionage and hostage situations.

And that, my dear peons, as they say, is that. By the by, I did not receive nearly as many tributes as I expected yesterday. You have one last chance and then – llamas.

Don’t Encourage the Ceiling Turtles

I had several friends over yesterday. There’s a room upstairs where I’ve painted sharks and squid and fish and seagulls, and one friend said I should have painted turtles on the ceiling.

Two problems: One, I have popcorn ceilings. It would be the lumpiest ceiling turtle of all time.

Two, ceiling turtles need very little encouragement to move into your home. We’ve talked about how they like french fries, but the truth is that ceiling turtles are kind of dumb. If you place fake turtles on the ceiling, painted or no, real ceiling turtles think there are already ceiling turtles there.

Sometimes this works in your favor. Ceiling turtles have occasionally been known to be territorial, and sometimes if they think you already have an infestation, they will move on, looking for a free home in which to wreak havoc.

Mostly, however, when the “resident” ceiling turtles do not react aggressively to the new arrivals, the new ceiling turtles will assume they are welcome and make themselves at home.

Be wise, my friends. Ceiling turtles are not to be messed with. Do not give them a reason to enter your house or take up residence on your ceilings.

And popcorn ceilings suck to paint.

How to Lure In the Elusive Ceiling Turtle

To continue our extremely amusing (to me, at least, and probably Ian) on-going series on ceiling turtles, there may be a point in your life when you actually want, no, need, ceiling turtles in your life.

But Kit, you say, I thought ceiling turtles were a bad thing? Don’t they lurk on your ceiling, waiting for their victims to meander beneath them, before they drop onto your head and nibble your ears? Why would I ever want them around?

While it’s true that the ceiling turtle is a menace, and a pain in the ears, they do have their benefits. You see, the ceiling turtle can also be used to cure eye strain.

It’s true. Very few people can complain of eye strain after a small aerial turtle has eaten their eye.

So if you or a loved one have spent too long staring at a computer, it might be worth your while to lure a few ceiling turtles into your home, even if you’ll have to pay exorbitant amount to have your house fumigated later.

How do you accomplish this, you ask?

Well, you see, there is one thing that ceiling turtles cannot resist.

French fries.

Or freedom fries, if that’s what floats your boat.

I couldn’t tell you if it’s the potato-y goodness or the salt or what, but if you leave some fries out, you’ll have more ceiling turtles than you can train to dance the mamba.

(Only 12 ceiling turtles can dance the mamba at any one time. It’s one of their sacred laws.)

On the other hand, if you don’t want ceiling turtles, you might want to re-think your choice of sides.

An Infestation of Ceiling Turtles

I can’t help it. I haven’t been this amused with a made-up animal since the Sky Shark.

###

Landsquid took his mug of cocoa and his box of Cheez-Its and padded over to the kitchen table, ready to have a nutritious breakfast. He had a full day planned. His arch-nemesis, the Alpaca, was having a tea party, and there were scones to be made before hand. Not the kind with fruit in them, though. That was a bit too evil for Landsquid.

He set his meal down and settled down into his chair. As he reached for the cocoa, he thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, but decided it was a trick of his imagination.

After a few sips of delicious liquid chocolate, he reached a tentacle for the Cheez-Its. That’s when the first one attacked. Landsquid paused at the sudden pressure on his head, then yelped as it bit down on one fin, Cheez-Its scattering everywhere. The second dropped directly into his cocoa, spilling it over the cracker-y mess. The third landed in the kitchen sink inexplicably.

“Ceiling turtles!” he cried, waving his tentacles furiously.

“Kkkkkkkkk,” said the ceiling turtles. The one covered in cocoa started eating his Cheez-Its.

Oh, that would not do.

Landsquid grabbed the box of Cheez-Its and went in search of his phone. It wasn’t on the kitchen counter. It’s wasn’t on his desk. It wasn’t even in the refrigerator. (The oddest things ended up in the refrigerator.)

The ceiling turtles came for him, crawling across the floor.

It also wasn’t in the dining room, on his dresser, or under his bed. Landsquid rubbed one fin in frustration. The ceiling turtles continued their way across the kitchen floor.

Finally, the phone was discovered in the third drawer under the sink in the second bathroom. Landsquid dialed information and was connected to a local exterminator.

“Ceiling turtles,” he said.

“Sorry, man,” said the exterminator. “There’s been a shortage of essence of myrtle lately. You’re screwed.”

The turtles had almost made it the kitchen door.

Landsquid hung up the phone and shut the kitchen door. There was a very slow scratching against the bottom. What was he to do? He’d always heard it was hard to get rid of ceiling turtles once they moved in. Maybe he’d just sell the house.

There was a near-silent sound of tiny, scaly feet beginning an ascent up the wall.

They were in there with his cocoa and Cheez-Its. Drastic measures were needed.

After a thorough search of the house, he returned, bearing a bucket, an old cat calendar, and a broomstick. It was silent in the kitchen. The turtles could be anywhere. Gathering his supplies in one hand, Landsquid slid the door open. His head remained turtle-free.

A quick survey of the room revealed one turtle in his Cheez-Its box. The other two were in the sink. What was with the sink? Maybe he should clean it more often.

Wielding his broomstick, he poked the turtle out of his delicious snacks. It hissed at him, but Landsquid dropped the bucket over it and slid the calendar underneath. He flipped the bucket over and received a satisfying turtle shell thunk for his effort.

He repeated the process for the two in the sink. The ceiling turtles hissed and scratched at the inside of the bucket, but the worn plastic held.

It was harder to get the bucket out of the sink, but then Landsquid took his captives out the back and dropped them over the fence into his neighbor’s, the Alpaca’s, yard.

That ought to make the tea party more interesting.

Landsquid took his bucket back inside, humming, and sat back down to his now slightly-soggy breakfast. He reached a tentacle for his cocoa.

That’s when the ceiling turtle attacked.

Ceiling Turtles

They lurk above, where you don’t notice their slow, deliberate movements. Then – when you least expect it – they drop down, onto your head, and gnaw gently on your ears.

Not terribly scary, ceiling turtles, though they can be a bit of an inconvenience when you’re trying to impress a date. Also, sometimes they make your mind wander and your blog post never gets done.

Have a limerick.

Beware, for above lurks the ceiling turtle
Tends to be attracted to shampoos herbal
He drops on your head
But you’re probably not dead
He can be rid of using essence of myrtle