Posts Tagged ‘turtleduck’

A Landsquid Thanksgiving

Landsquid called his friend Turtleduck on the phone. “Come over,” he said. “I’ve learned about this great holiday that some people celebrate, where you get together with those you love, eat a shared meal, and go over what you’re thankful for. Food’s at 5. See you then? I’ve got to call the Alpaca still.”

It was a merry group that convened later that day. The Alpaca had knitted sweaters for the lot of them, which, though hideous, everyone still wore with good cheer. The self-folding plesiosaur had brought drinks, and the alligator in the tree entertained them all with stories from his perch on top of the bookcase.

Finally, it was time to eat. Everyone settled down as Landsquid brought in dish after dish: mashed potatoes, stuffing, green bean casserole, and to top it all off…

“…is that a giant duck?” Turtleduck asked.

“Well, no,” Landsquid said. “Actually, it’s…”

“But it’s some kind of bird! You’re trying to serve me bird!” And she burst into tears.

Poor Turtleduck

The others stared at Landsquid, judgment written on their faces. “No!” he said. He placed the plate down on the table and crossed over to Turtleduck, patting the top of her shell awkwardly. “I would never do that–surely you know that, Turtleduck.”

She peered out from between her feathers, caught sight of the plate again, and wailed anew.

“Let me explain, please!” Landsquid waited until Turtleduck quieted. “You see, it’s all part of the tradition. Birds are fantastic, everyone knows it, so to celebrate them as part of the general thanksgiving, a giant effigy is made of them. It’s called a tofukey. It’s made of tofu.”

“Oh.” Turtleduck dried her tears on one wing. “Why doesn’t it have a head, then?”

They all regarded the tofukey solemnly. “I must have used a bad template,” Landsquid said finally. “I’ll find a different one for next year. Now, shall we eat?”

And so they did.

The Wisdom of the Future Dinosaur

Landsquid was tentacle-deep in flour–it was Thursday, his weekly baking day–when his doorbell rang.

Most of his friends knew not to disturb him while baking was in progress, so it was either a stranger, or it was important. He didn’t bother de-flouring before tromping across his house to the front door.

It was Turtleduck. Landsquid looked down at her. A pile of flour gathered on the doorstep.

“Have you heard?” she said.

“Heard what?”

Turtleduck twisted her head one way, then the other. She leaned in. Landsquid was forced to lean in as well. “They say,” she whispered, “that the Alpaca is getting out soon.”

Landsquid had not seen his neighbor and arch-nemesis since the scone/knitting incident, as he called it in his head. How long had he been in his house now, alone except for his knitting and the ceiling turtles? What had happened in that time? What had happened to the poor ceiling turtles? Landsquid had a momentary terrible image of the Alpaca roasting them over open flame. Or knitting them into a sweater from which they never escaped.

“Is that a good idea?” he said.

Turtleduck shook her head so violently she almost overbalanced from the action. “What should we do?”

Landsquid rubbed one head fin before he remembered the flour. What should they do? They could go visit the Alpaca, he guessed, though the last time had been bad enough. Who knew what horrors lurked next door now? “Maybe we should go see the Future Dinosaur,” he said finally.

They went inside. While Landsquid de-floured, Turtleduck managed to roll several muffins into a basket as an offering for the Future Dinosaur. Landsquid had never personally seen the Future Dinosaur before, but it was said that she was infinitely wise, being a product of both the past, and the future.

Landsquid locked his house on the way out, just in case the Alpaca got out before he returned. The last thing he needed was to be ambushed by a probably insane arch-nemesis, possibly wielding scarves and gloves. Then he and Turtleduck walked down to the bus stop, caught the number 5, and took it all the way downtown.

Mmm, baked goods.

The Future Dinosaur was usually found in a small out-building on the grounds of the city/county municipal building. Landsquid and Turtleduck left their names with a nervous platypus out front and sat down under a tree to wait to be called. Apart from the basket of muffins, Landsquid had also brought some Cheez-Its and cocoa in a thermos.

Though no one else came or went, it was half an hour before the platypus called them. Landsquid steeled himself outside the door. Hopefully the Future Dinosaur would have some advice for them, or would be able to help in some manner. Otherwise, this was going to be a waste of perfectly good muffins.

The platypus pushed the door open deliberately slowly. It was dark inside. Landsquid went in first, Turtleduck following less enthusiastically. Once inside, the door was shut behind them, and a low glow appeared, backlighting a table and whomever sat at it. The Future Dinosaur, if that’s who it was, was smaller than Landsquid had expected.

“Oh, great Future Dinosaur,” he said. “We have a problem that we desire your help with. Please accept these muffins as an offering of our sincerity.” Hopefully that sounded okay. Landsquid wished he’d looked up Future Dinosaur etiquette before, but there had never really been a reason to. He shuffled over to the table–the glow was increasing–and deposited the basket.

Up close, the Future Dinosaur was small. And very feathery.

“Cluck CLUCK,” said the Future Dinosaur.

Landsquid glanced at Turtleduck. Was that an invitation to continue? Landsquid explained the situation with the Alpaca. The Future Dinosaur was mostly quiet throughout, though she offered an encouraging “Cluck!” whenever Landsquid paused.

“What do you think?” Landsquid concluded finally.

The Future Dinosaur was silent for a moment, staring at the basket of muffins. Then she jumped on the table with a flap of her wings, knocked the basket over, and declared, “CluckcluckcluckCLUCK bawk cluckcluck,” and pecked the table four times.

Then she snagged a muffin and, with a ruffle of her feathers, disappeared.

Later, on the bus ride home, Landsquid mulled over the Future Dinosaur’s cryptic message while Turtleduck chattered on about how awesome the Future Dinosaur had been, and what an honor it had been to be in her presence, and how wise she had been about everything. Despite the wisdom of the message the Future Dinosaur had given him, he did not seem to be smart enough to be able to decipher it.

What would he do when he got home?

Well, maybe it would be obvious. Landsquid could only hope.

The Landsquid Is Luckily Not Flammible

Happy 4th of July, American Squiders! (For non-American Squiders, Happy Thursday!) This blog has been sadly lacking in landsquid, lately, so we’re remedying that.

(Also, do not ask me how the Turtleduck got her sparkler lit.)



I hope you all have had a lovely day, and I will see you all on Tuesday.

A Landsquid, a Turtleduck, and a Ghost Story Walk Into a Bar…

Hey, want to see what a landsquid looks like when you haven’t drawn one in a few months?

what is this

My imagination is weird.

Also, in celebration of the haunting season being afoot, you can read my new ghost story, The Door in the Attic, over at Turtleduck Press for free!

The Return of the Sky Shark

All was quiet in the vale where Landsquid lived. For now, at least. You see, Landsquid’s neighbor and arch-nemesis, the Alpaca, would be over shortly. There was some sort of sports competition to be watched and, out of principle, they would pick opposing sides and insult the other’s intelligence over their choice. They didn’t much care which sport or what teams; they just liked to argue.

It kept things interesting.

Landsquid had just started setting out mugs for cocoa on the coffee table – though he didn’t know why it was called that, he never served coffee on it – when there was a commotion at the front door. Landsquid paused, glancing at the clock. It was still quite early, but perhaps the Alpaca thought it would put an interesting spin on things to come over prematurely and then complain about Landsquid’s poor hosting.

Darn that alpaca and his devious ideas!

Landsquid purposefully ignored the door and filled up the cocoa mugs. But then he got to thinking that perhaps the Alpaca would then accuse Landsquid of not being neighborly enough to open the door, and so he wandered over and threw the door open, preparing to blast his enemy with a polite, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I was in the shower.”

However, it was not the Alpaca. It was Turtleduck. Poor Turtleduck – half-duck, half-turtle, and all an aberration of nature. She had to work to stay on her two feet as the mild wind from the door rocked her shell. “Finally!” she said. “I’ve come to warn you!”

“Come to warn me!” echoed the Landsquid in surprise. “Surely Alpaca’s not up to his usual tricks right now – it’s game day!” Though perhaps the Alpaca thought it would shake things up to not show up at all, and instead steal all the top hats from the local millinery. But he rather hoped not; Landsquid always looked forward to game day.

“Oh, no,” said Turtleduck. “He was watering his begonias. But the Sky Shark has been seen in the vicinity again!” Here emotion overwhelmed Turtleduck, or at least her legs, and she tumbled onto her rump and disappeared into her shell.

The Sky Shark! Terror of the Skies! It was said that it lurked in the clouds and the treetops, just waiting for unsuspecting woodland creatures to come into range. It could smell blood from a million miles away, and it never stopped hunting.

“What will we do?” moaned Turtleduck.

“Well, come inside,” said Landsquid gently, tucking Turtleduck’s shell under one tentacle. “We’ll stay inside and let the authorities handle it. You can join Alpaca and me for the game. Who are you going to root for?” Landsquid wasn’t quite sure who was playing – or what – and hoped she wouldn’t ask.

“The authorities? Which authorities?”

“Oh, you know,” replied Landsquid, who didn’t actually know what an authority was but thought that it sounded good. Perhaps they ran sports. “Now sit down, have some cocoa, and make yourself at home while I call Alpaca and tell him to stop watering his begonias.”

The Sky Shark could wait until after the game.

Australian Interlude

Can’t talk, have Australians.

(I love to say this, people’s first reaction is almost always complete befuddlement.)

Blogging shall resume with Friday’s post, but to tie you over, here’s a picture of a landsquid and a turtleduck.