Sharper Than a Serpent’s Tooth

That’s it. No ice cream for Athena until 2034.

Update: Someone’s always protesting.

20 Comments on “Sharper Than a Serpent’s Tooth”

  1. Ach, die Waschbar! Well, I’m glad that spirited private citizens are willing to air their concerns with potential Scalzi leadership. Think of the racoons we can save….

  2. Two things:

    How is it possible to get an entire troupe of girl scouts lost in the forest with a GPS?

    Didn’t your wife just clean your desk? Man, I’d forget her help in your campaign, as I’m sure you’ve been threatened with the same ass kicking we have.

    Disorganized. That would be the understatement of the century.

    Athena continues to amaze.

  3. changterhune – Before you hear lies from Chang Terhune himself, we thought we’d tell you the truth: without us, his old action figures, he’d be nowhere. He loved science fiction from way back and began reading it at an early age, but it was through us that he acted it all out. That’s what led to the writing. He watched a lot of science fiction shows like Star Trek, U.F.O, and movies, too. But we were always there to do his bidding. And it’s like they say: you always forget about the little people on your way up. Oh, the 70’s and early 80’s with him were good times! He’d use these blocks and make all the crazy buildings for us to be in his stories. I gotta say the kid’s imagination was pretty damn fertile. Oh, he had friends, but they just weren’t into it like him. He was like the Lance Armstrong of action figures. And of science fiction. At first, when he began writing in the eighth grade, we didn’t mind. He still made time for us. And we knew that when he was holding us in his sweaty little hands and he got that far off look in his eye, he’d come back to burying us in the back yard or - god forbid! – blowing us up with firecrackers. But it was worth it for a part in one of those stories. We loved him for it. He kept us around even when we were minus a leg or two - or even a head. In that mind of his, he found a use for all of us. Then he discovered girls. October, 1986. It was like the end of the world. One day we’re standing in the middle of this building block creation he’d pretended was some marble city on a planet near Alpha Centauri and the next we were stuck in a box in the closet. Not even a “See ya later!” Nope, it was into the closet, then we heard some high-pitched girly-giggles then silence. We didn’t see him for years. We got word about him once in a while. Heard he took up writing, but it was crap like “The Breakfast Club” only with better music. We couldn’t believe it. Not Charlie. What happened to those aliens with heads he’d sculpted out of wax? Spaceships? Those complex plots? All gone. For what? You guessed it: Girls. Emotions. “Serious fiction.” I tell you, it was like hearing Elvis had left the building. During our two decade exile in the closet, we heard other things about him. He went to college. He wrote a lot, but not much he really liked. We knew it even then. It was like he didn’t dare write science fiction. Some of us had lost hope and just lay there. Others kept vigil, hoping for a day we didn’t dare speak about. Then we heard he’d stopped writing in 1996. Did he come to reclaim us? No. He took up music for ten years or so. He took up yoga. Once in a while, he’d visit us in the closet. But it was half-hearted. His mind was elsewhere. Then one day, he really did come back for us. One second we’re in the dark and the next thing we know we’re in a car headed for Massachusetts. Suddenly we got a whole shelf to ourselves out in broad daylight! Then he bought a bunch of others form some planet called Ebay. He’d just sit and stare at us with that old look. But why were we suddenly back in the picture? He had a wife now, who didn’t mind that he played with us. So what had happened? Turns out he’d never forgotten about those stories. He’d been thinking about all of us and the stories he’d made up and then remembered he’d been a writer once. From the shelf we could see him typing away. Before long he’s got a whole novel together! Then he’s working on another one. Word is there are two more in the planning stages! Some short stories, too! It’s good to see him using his imagination again. Its good to know he never abandoned us. He returned to his true love of science fiction. We hear the stories are pretty good. Someday we’ll get one of the cats to score us a copy of the manuscript. Man, it’s good to be out of the damn closet! --- I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me
    Chang, for rizzle.

    Haah! She made me laugh out loud, wwhich is hard today as I had to deal with a moron at Apple look on the internet for my answers instead of him.

    Seems raccoons are upset at you. German ones at that. Now whatcha gonna do?

  4. OK, so now I’m in a bind. Before, I was perfectly content with my non-SFWA-membership status which prevented me from entering the fray.

    Now, I find myself convinced that I need to find a way to help Athena and keep the Scalzzzzz from wielding power (in a disorganized and generally lost fashion). The thought that is occurring to me is that us “readers” who can’t join SFWA surely outnumber the “writers”, so maybe we could organize a coup if he wins. It’s just a thought.

    Either that or we could sabotage the new SFWA tiara, so that we can beam radio waves and control
    all of his decisions and actions. (Although we should let him exercise free will while writing, otherwise we’ll run out of good stuff to read).

  5. Out of the mouth of babes…

    Hmm, slight misgivings seeing the level of support? Ah, yes, all fun and games while you’re throwing the handgrenades, but once you’re on the receiving end, things change. I fell your pain, brother.

    Co-conspirator: “Now that we got rid of the bastards on council, two of us have to step forward to replace them. Volunteers?”

    Me: “Hey, where’d everybody go?”

    Co-conspirator: “Congrats, Steve, you’re now on council.”

    Me: “Rats.”

    Oh, and racoon, you have to stew, not grill. Possum is better, though. Woodchuck you need a few days to marinade. Now, squirrel, them’s good grillin’, but you need a bunch of them to make a meal. You’d be surprised how fast you get full on worms though.

  6. changterhune – Before you hear lies from Chang Terhune himself, we thought we’d tell you the truth: without us, his old action figures, he’d be nowhere. He loved science fiction from way back and began reading it at an early age, but it was through us that he acted it all out. That’s what led to the writing. He watched a lot of science fiction shows like Star Trek, U.F.O, and movies, too. But we were always there to do his bidding. And it’s like they say: you always forget about the little people on your way up. Oh, the 70’s and early 80’s with him were good times! He’d use these blocks and make all the crazy buildings for us to be in his stories. I gotta say the kid’s imagination was pretty damn fertile. Oh, he had friends, but they just weren’t into it like him. He was like the Lance Armstrong of action figures. And of science fiction. At first, when he began writing in the eighth grade, we didn’t mind. He still made time for us. And we knew that when he was holding us in his sweaty little hands and he got that far off look in his eye, he’d come back to burying us in the back yard or - god forbid! – blowing us up with firecrackers. But it was worth it for a part in one of those stories. We loved him for it. He kept us around even when we were minus a leg or two - or even a head. In that mind of his, he found a use for all of us. Then he discovered girls. October, 1986. It was like the end of the world. One day we’re standing in the middle of this building block creation he’d pretended was some marble city on a planet near Alpha Centauri and the next we were stuck in a box in the closet. Not even a “See ya later!” Nope, it was into the closet, then we heard some high-pitched girly-giggles then silence. We didn’t see him for years. We got word about him once in a while. Heard he took up writing, but it was crap like “The Breakfast Club” only with better music. We couldn’t believe it. Not Charlie. What happened to those aliens with heads he’d sculpted out of wax? Spaceships? Those complex plots? All gone. For what? You guessed it: Girls. Emotions. “Serious fiction.” I tell you, it was like hearing Elvis had left the building. During our two decade exile in the closet, we heard other things about him. He went to college. He wrote a lot, but not much he really liked. We knew it even then. It was like he didn’t dare write science fiction. Some of us had lost hope and just lay there. Others kept vigil, hoping for a day we didn’t dare speak about. Then we heard he’d stopped writing in 1996. Did he come to reclaim us? No. He took up music for ten years or so. He took up yoga. Once in a while, he’d visit us in the closet. But it was half-hearted. His mind was elsewhere. Then one day, he really did come back for us. One second we’re in the dark and the next thing we know we’re in a car headed for Massachusetts. Suddenly we got a whole shelf to ourselves out in broad daylight! Then he bought a bunch of others form some planet called Ebay. He’d just sit and stare at us with that old look. But why were we suddenly back in the picture? He had a wife now, who didn’t mind that he played with us. So what had happened? Turns out he’d never forgotten about those stories. He’d been thinking about all of us and the stories he’d made up and then remembered he’d been a writer once. From the shelf we could see him typing away. Before long he’s got a whole novel together! Then he’s working on another one. Word is there are two more in the planning stages! Some short stories, too! It’s good to see him using his imagination again. Its good to know he never abandoned us. He returned to his true love of science fiction. We hear the stories are pretty good. Someday we’ll get one of the cats to score us a copy of the manuscript. Man, it’s good to be out of the damn closet! --- I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me
    Chang, for rizzle.

    A cuskerchuck, noww there’s some fine eating. Days in preparation, but worht the wait. A Maine delicacy. Ask for it wherever Maine foods are sold.

  7. Chang:
    “Seems raccoons are upset at you. German ones at that. Now whatcha gonna do?”

    Those are not German Racoon’s. They are Bavarian. Never call a Bavarian racoon a German or else you are at risk of the Bavarian Alpine Tuba band coming to your door at 3:30a. Believe me. It’s painful…

  8. We need an update for the Athena axe-wielding picture, to reflect her actual support for her dad. “Don’t vote for my dad, or I’ll hit you with this axe!” or perhaps the slightly long “Don’t vote for my dad, or I’ll chop you up like the raccoon my Girl Scout troop had to eat when he got us lost in the woods despite using a GPS! (How is that even possible?)”
    I second the “Athena needs her own blog”. Seriously.

  9. “Now, did Athena REALLY make this all on her own, or did she have some help from Daddy this time around?”

    My 7 year old nephew figured out, all on his own (at least, I didn’t show him), how to get iMovie on my dad’s MacBook to record from the built-in camera.

    Now whenever he’s at my father’s house, he’s making “Band of Brothers” ww2 movies with him as the star.

  10. Athena! Just get a livejournal! You can update via text messages and undermine him from across the internet while you’re at school!

  11. oh dear dog, your daughter is hilarious (in a good way).

    And don’t worry, I can beat that story about girl scout mishaps. My leader did far, far, far worse when I was a Junior Scout.

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