Wearing Sweaty Jodhpurs
just 113 kinds of atoms- the crime of performing a protest song
- like pumpernickel bread
- the lies he told and the photographs he took
- “Magnificent!” I replied, with a good imitation of enthusiasm
Tune in next time part 308 Click Here for Earlier Installments
Wearing sweaty jodhpurs two sizes too big is unpleasant, especially when it’s someone else’s sweat. But had they been less sweaty, they’d have been incinerated in the torch flame.
Jove spluttered, and Carla boggled. I ignored them and stuck my arms into my stolen boots. I waddled out of the hut, my damp, warm, floppy pants slapping my hamstrings with every stride. As I came into view of the horde outside, I raised my arms to present the dusty soles of the shiny boots.
It’s quite amazing what can be cooked up using just 113 kinds of atoms. The residue on the soles of Jove’s boots was just a byproduct, but those outside recognized it. They felt its radiation and knew what it meant, and they cowered before it. To challenge the boots was as bad as the crime of performing a protest song. These boots had trod the assembly line where things were… assembled. Complex things, like pumpernickel bread. Good things, also like pumpernickel bread. And powerfully bad things, like the lies he told and the photographs he took when Jove overthrew the island’s previous baron.
The Fire Eaters bowed low, and the TechnoPagans covered their eyes.
One of them spoke, asking, “How go the sacrifices?”
“Magnificent!” I replied, with a good imitation of enthusiasm. “Magnificently,” I amended. “Now it is time for launch!”
bonus points for using them in order