Daftwager Twitter Fiction: Day 46

Day 46:


07:00; Sometimes I question the ‘evil’ in my eight hours a night. Evil has been ‘night-typed’. Then I remember; as a doctor I know that a lack of sleep can affect my judgement eg: when I conjoined those twins.

07:30; Bad judgement causes irrationality, irrationality leads to foolishness. The foolishness is worst – acting under foolishness’ influence causes serious accidents, like being swayed by ‘mercy’ at key moments.

08:00; I believe a day ‘off’ is in order. Excelsoar is still undergoing “psych evaluation” under the care of the Jeans d’Armes, the Projectionist Protectors are still in the Madhouse wing of the Bastille – all is quiet.

09:00; Salute a salut to Open, amid exciting equations, take a picnic basket, head out on the town. In a week the trial of PPs is up on the docket & free E be holding me upside down, shaking out my pockets.

10:00; “Happiest Place On Earth”. I shall test this.

10:30; May as well enjoy myself. Visit EuroDisneyland. Printed up counterfeits of Disneydollars from drafts downloaded – proceed to cause a crashing, crumbling inflation that results in Goofy hanging himself.

11:00; Few rides exciting to someone who has tangled with robot crabs. Improved; reprogrammed the Pirates of the Carribbean; when they do break down, they will kill the tourists. Take that Jeff Goldblum.

12:00; Visit safari. Largely boring – no Myth-Menagarie. Do encounter apes I trained for Prehensile Shah; joined the region’s French Foreign Legion after the ‘4 Finger World Under My Thumb’ scheme died.

12:30; They are happy to see me. Partially; bond between augmented and augmenter. Mostly; when I spotted them, I wrested the safari bus wheel from the driver and halted it – perfect for raiding the tourists.

13:00; I signspeak with apes at length; how they arrived here, where the others are, their hopes & dreams for the future. So hopeful. Tubby tourist survivors are summarily stripped, whipped & cloth-collared.

13:30; Apes don’t desire escape, simply safari sovereignty. We open the tour bus coolers as I sign-outline how to do just that. Harnessed by ropes of their own old clothes, tourists tug the bus out of the ditch.

14:00; Simian miscreants instructed in the pressure points points of elephants, taming lions, riding zebras, driving tourbuses. Disney will shush this little incident & pay the new, impish, ranger chimps in peanuts.

14:30; Primates are far cheaper than regular rangers, cute and backed by animal rights. Grunt-speaking work shall be done by the new human stock, who still think they will be rescued, rather than written off.

15:00; I ascend, perched uncomfortably on my cane, escape. The chimpanzees, orang-outangs, gorrillas; they wave. The other apes, humans who forget that they are only another of this planet’s apes, do not.

16:00; It seems witches and wizards must have some sort of inertial compensator/cushioning charm to ride the wind like this. Or their reputation for rage originates from their flight sickness, & their raging piles.

17:00; Find a lost tour group, around l’Arc d’Triomphe. Pick up seamlessly where their guide left off, with the aid of underthought reading & overwriting. Charge triple typical rate, promise the stars. They pay.

17:30; Tell them the Arc was built by Hitler, to celebrate the conquest of Paris. Tell them the Eiffel Tower is the remains of rocket assembly site, abandoned when the US beat Europe to the Moon. They nod.

18:00; Tell them the French know only two facts about trains, both of which are wrong. Tell them the French only eat leftovers. Tell them to throw cheese at the safari surrender monkeys in DLand. They nod.

19:00; Take them to ‘Chez Chiffon Gris’ for supper. Let the maitre d’ overcharge us all, so that I can take 50% of his take afterwards. They slurp their soup, ask for ketchup – I consider the evils of ignorance.

20:00; They asked for beer. Beer, with foie gras. And they asked for shots with desert. And belched. The chef, the staff, the maitre d’ & I agree; simply shortchanging these deranged wanderers is not enough.

21:00; Take them on pub crawl, slowly working our way back to LRP. Mental suggestion is increasingly easy, mind reading increasingly unnecessary as these drunken wanderlusters wish for more excitement.

22:00; Make it all way back to LRP. Perfect revenge arranged. We come to La Pantalon Rouge, pass it, onto the Louvre. I ask, have you ever taken a tour of Louvre? Bored Yes. At midnight? Intrigued No.

23:00; Security systems of the outer building extremely easy to overcome. It is no Swiss Vault, unlike the basements. Tell them that there is a secret of the Mona Lisa, seen only at midnight. They smile & nod.

23:10; I, personally, prefer classic Victorian pictures of sick children, praying. I like to estimate how long they have. ‘I give you six months’. ‘I’d give you three weeks’. ‘I’m surprised you aren’t dead already …’


23:30; Try to convince my Yankee charges that the Mona Lisa is not a better painting, merely a more famous one. I even appeal to their gross love of the gargantuan and refer to the van Rijin’s ”superior” size.

23:40; No soap. They adore Mona Lisa, even though the public version is a modern copy, and will take no dissuading. Still, my drunken state prompts a course of action I regret; I give them one, last, chance.

Rembrandt van Rijn; 150 years ago, Delacroix said of Rembrandt that his works would be held higher than those of Raphael. His blasphemous prophecy came true, within 50 years. Diabolical slacker!23:50; Tell them Richard Dadd’s ‘FairyFeller’s Masterstroke’ was painted by a close friend of Dadd’s, using paints composed from Dadd’s bodily fluids, while Dadd watched from a window. Nod! No mercy!

00:00; At precisely midnight the moonlight lights the picture. I ask if they see anything. They say not yet. I say I’m going to turn on more lights. Fly out a window, over walls & down to LRP as the cops arrive.


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