I’ve always been a bit of a nervous Nellie. I don’t quite know why. You’d think with all the hard knocks I’ve gotten through life that I would’ve toughened up to some extent. But no. I’ve developed some nervous habits instead. You know… like a sane person.
That’s what Peter and I discuss in this episode of the Crumbcast.
Speaking of which, this is the last Crumbcast we ever recorded together. It was done and dusted many moons ago, and he’s since moved on to greener pastures. I’m still bereft that he and his partner have gone, but they gave me a little skull satchel to remember them by… and so I do. I love that little satchel. It’s very black and skully and awesome. Muggers will have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands!
Anyhoo, I digress. Next episode of the Crumbcast will be back to just me again. Ugh. You unlucky things.
PS: To listen to the podcast in question then please click on that picture down there. To view the comic strip that our discussion centres around, then please click here. Yes, it’s real magic in the digital world, I tells ya! No pesky sciencey stuff here!
Tati walks into the living room to see Tony standing on the wall, jutting out horizontally. He’s inspecting a mark on the ceiling.
TATI: What is this? A new kind of fortune-telling? Using spider webs and desiccated flies?
TONY: Nope. I just thought I’d try looking at life from a different perspective for a change.
TATI: Uh huh. And how does it look?
TONY: Erm… Very skip trowelly, I guess?
TATI: What? Your life looks like you’re skipping a trolley?
TONY: No! Skip trowel. It’s a type of finish that ceilings can have.
TATI: Tony, I don’t understand. Are you gazing at the ceiling or at your life?
TONY: Can’t it be both? Perhaps this ceiling represents a developmental point that I cannot get past as a human being. Perhaps this is symbolic of my personal limits.
Tati peers up at Tony with a long musing look, then leaves the room. She’s back a few moments later with two large pick axes. She climbs up onto the wall and stands near the ceiling with him. Then she hits the ceiling sharply with one of the pick axes. Tony looks at her, wide eyed and open mouthed, as bits of debris rain down on them.
TONY: What are you doing?!
Tony swallows some ceiling, and begins to cough and splutter.
TONY: Jesus. That can’t be good for my asthma!
TATI: Yes, Tony, you’re not Michelangelo. Where’s your swing?
A bird’s nest and some cockroaches fall onto Tony’s face. He splutters some more, and very quickly flicks them away.
TONY: Well, duh, I’m not Michelangelo! What’s your point?
TATI: My point is this stone. Would you be so kind as to help me with it, Tony?
TONY: What stone?
A huge piece of ceiling stone clocks the side of his face.
TONY: Oh. That one.
Trying not to pass out, he holds it up for Tati to see.
or: EPISODE 6 // Where Tati Supercalifragilisticexpialidociouses Tony to New Heights
In our previous episode, Tati was about to interrogate (torture) the mysterious man in black when he got wiped out by a falling meteorite. Emergency services began to arrive on the scene, so Tati and Tony felt it best to make their getaway…
“Erm, Tati, we should get the hell out of here, don’t you think?”
Tony tugged at Tati’s elbow. She yanked it away, more than a little irritated.
“Hey! What gives you the right to paw at me, you old pervert?”
Tony eyed her in a mixture of apology and wild-eyed fear.
“You can hold my hand, okay?” she said, her frown softening to a look of concern. “Let’s get out of here!”
Tony grabbed her whole arm again. “Let’s!”
Tati poked at Tony’s ribs with a huge, colourful umbrella. Tony winced, reeling in surprise. Where the hell had she suddenly pulled that from? It wasn’t anywhere a moment ago!
“Is that a…” Tony blinked dramatically. “Is that a fucking umbrella? You do realise it’s not about to rain, don’t you?”
Tati hoisted it, pointing the tip at the clear blue sky. “It’s a fucking whatchamacallit!”
“Huh? Could you stop saying words that I can’t comprehend?”
Tati grimaced at him. “Your Messiah won’t save you, but I will. Grab tight!”
Tony glommed onto Tati like a vice. “Does that make you my ‘Missiah?'” He grinned like an idiot at his own stupid joke.
“Do you want to fall?” Tati asked with a hint of menace in her voice.
“Wha—?!” Tony shook his head in panic. “No. Of course not!”
“Then hold on!” Tati jabbed at the sky for emphasis. “Less words. More action!”
And with that, her umbrella popped open with a puff of air, and they shot off into the sky like a bottle rocket. Tony screamed as he tightened his grip. He hadn’t expected their lift off to be so… well, sudden!
“Shit!” squeaked Tati.
Tony blinked. That’s all he seemed to be doing lately. “What?”
“Suitcases!” Tati looked angry. “Did you bring your fucking baggage?”
Tony refused to look down as he was scared of heights—but he knew the suitcases were still scattered around the lip of the crater. Tati looked down, and her scowl deepened.
“Do you really need your suitcases?” Then before Tony could muster an answer, she added, “Never mind. It’s too late now anyway.”
Tati was right. The ambulance, police and fire service had arrived on the scene. People in various uniforms were already striding about with purposeful resolve, pointing at things, crossing things off lists, and getting shit done. And yet, Tony had to whine, “But I need them!”
“Why?” Tati pretended that her question was dictated by common sense, not curiosity. Tony gave her his best, saintly, longsuffering ‘martyr’ look. She rolled her eyes, but he wouldn’t let up.
“All my good underwear’s in there!”
Tati found it difficult to imagine Tony wearing undergarments. The thought made her giggle. “Nice try, you silly boy.” She lightly kissed the top of his head. “Do you have other options? You’re going to need them.”
Tony realised that the reason was going to have to be more serious than the one he’d offered. Otherwise, this nasty girl with fake face fungus was never going to agree to return and get his suitcases back. Tati could be quite difficult to sway once her mind was made up.
He thought a little bit, and then said, “Well, I suppose I can tell you, but it’s a big secret. The reason I want to go back for my suitcases is…”
Yeah… Maybe we’re in a silly mood today. And maybe it’s got something to do with the dolphins. You know the ones. The dolphins that are rising from the oceans to get us? Mankind isn’t safe!
On the other hand, it would be unfair to think of only dolphins as the foremost threat for humanity. Naked amoebas, feral penguins and deadly spoon sharks can also take offence, and combine their efforts to wipe us out. We wouldn’t stand a chance!
So, here’s what we must do: We must save the world with the power of poetry! We must all band together and create an atomic masterpiece that will blow the dolphins’ skittles sky high! Have a look below to see what our plan entails and how you can play an active role.
1) We provide the first line of the poem. 2) You write the next line. 3) You submit your line via the comments section of this very post. 4) We pick the line we like most and add it to the poem. 5) We publish the first and second lines in a follow-up post. 6) Steps 2-5 are repeated until we have a masterpiece!
And, please, don’t forget about those naked amoebas. Tati once got their front and back ends mixed up. What a disaster!
I wasted no time, stepping into the stormwater drain to retrieve the kitten before it drowned. Wind railed at my back, and the first huge drops of icy rain began to plap on the scruff of my neck. I shivered, my foot slipped on the slick ladder, and I fell in.
I flailed momentarily before my head cracked into the sewer wall. The last thing I remember was my face in bloodied water, my scattered manuscript pages, and a title that read ‘Look What the Kitten Dragged In’.