Tales for Awful People

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The Foolish Queen
October 13, 2010, 12:51 pm
Filed under: Work | Tags:

Once a bee with little management experience struck out and started her own hive. She had no idea what hive running involved, so she decided to concentrate on what she liked best: bossing the other bees around. She hired three or four drones, and then called them constantly with directives on how to make wax, how to build honey combs, and how to find flowers. “Dude, did she just explain to me what pollen was?” one drone asked another after one of the queen’s visits. “I don’t know, but if she tells me to puke up honey one more time, I’m going to sting myself in my own throax,” said another.

The bees buzzed and did their jobs, but the hive was failing. For one thing, the queen had built it in a howling wasteland, because the rent was cheap. For another, the queen was better at flying into high pitched buzzing rages at her drones when cutomers were around than she was keeping the hive profitable.

Finally, her drones just started ingnoring her demands, because she was impossible to to please anyway. Then the hive was raided by bears, because the queen had forgotten about anti-bear precautions in the frenzy of micromanaging nectar storage.

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Six Different Types
October 12, 2010, 5:59 pm
Filed under: Misc | Tags: ,

…(You Meet in Hell or on the Internet, Either Way)

Alas, gentle reader, I, your humble squirrel narrator, can take no credit for this stunning anthropological treatise. It was written back at the dawn of the aughts, by Cara and Leah Wallace. This groundbreaking work has provided inspiration for innumerable fable possibilities.

The premise of this list is that no one finds social interaction easy: they just cope in different ways. The categories are fairly broad on purpose. Just because someone is the same type as you are, that doesn’t mean that you’re exactly alike. In fact, you may hate that person! (especially if you’re a Type Four). These categorizations have more to do with the ways people relate to the world than they do with individual personality traits, but sometimes a single trait can reveal an amazing amount of information, and certain traits tend to show up again and again in certain types. (For example, did you know that fork-biters tend to be Type Ones? Or that Type Sixes enjoy dried fruit?)

This list is meant to further understanding, but we have also found it useful as shorthand to describe new acquaintances to friends who are “in the know.”

1) Type Ones: the analysts. Type Ones have an intellectual understanding of social rules, but not an intuitive one. They are savvy enough to be embarrassed for others (sometimes painfully so) when they transgress, but they often bump into things and drop small items. They tend to read too much into communications from strangers or casual acquaintances, while remaining oblivious to pointed hints from friends. Type Ones either dress oddly, or dress as absolutely generically as possible. Sometimes, they are a few years behind when it comes to cultural references. Still, they spend huge portions of their lives discussing and thinking about the minutia of day-to-day life.

2) Type Twos: The cops. Or: The moms. Type Twos can often be heard to say, “Oh, for the love of God, just let me do it myself!” They do not suffer fools gladly, and tend to stick strictly and doggedly to what they consider to be correct social behavior. They become enraged at the other types, often with good reason. However, their inflexibility sometimes makes it difficult to criticize constructively. Type Twos can be intimidating, but really, they want what’s best for everyone. It’s just that secretly, they think they are the only sane and reasonable people on earth. From there, they make the logical leap that they are required to care for the rest of the idiots, and they resent the idiots all the more for it. They also treat their personal pet peeves like they are laws of physics.

3) Type Threes: the dreamers. Type Threes are physical. They are prone to gymnastics, scampering around, and generally making contact with their environments. True Type Threes seem to shine with an inner light: this is due to the perfect confidence that comes with their state of genuine obliviousness to social rules and conventions. Type Threes would never in a million years judge anyone else for their clothing, way of speaking, or general appearance: therefore, they have no idea how painful their prescence can sometimes be to the other types. Type Threes tend not to realize that there are certain people it is not appropriate to talk to, and can be easy prey for cruel people. Bless them, though: lots of times, they just don’t notice. Bonus: if once can surmount the hygiene issues which are often present with Type Threes, they tend to be the most attractive of the types.

4) Type Fours: the wingnuts. Type Fours could be mistaken for Type Threes, but for the evil in their hearts, or they could be mistaken for Type Twos who have been sniffing powerful solvents. This is not to say that Type Fours are inherently evil or irrational people. However, they develop personal social codes outside of standard societal mores. They lack tact, particularly when their personal codes are violated, and can often alienate entire rooms full of people. On the other hand, Type Fours tend to exude charisma, and can be very persuasive. It is not unusual to talk to a Type Four for hours, agree with him or her, and then later come away shaking ones head, feeling as though one has been under a spell. Type Fours tend to believe in vigilante justice. Also, they hate other Type Fours.

5) Type Fives: the faithful scholars. Type Fives would tell you the ending, but they want you to read the book. Ok, no, they’ll tell you the ending. Type Fives are easy going and good natured. However, they lack a sense of humor. They respond politely to jokes, bon mots, puns, and pratfalls, but they withdraw politely from the conversation shortly thereafter. They are often content to substitute the static world of books or numbers for human interaction. They favor earth tones. Type Fives can possess a social conscience and get upset about the injustice of the world. They belive in letter writing campaigns, because if someone were to write them a thoughtful and well considered letter, they would certainly consider changing their own behavior! Type Fives are probably the most delicate of the types, even though Type Ones are way more neurotic. Fives require rooms of their own, for real. Otherwise they’re going to eventually require rooms with padding. They tend not to harbor even a little bit of evil in their hearts, however, and they tend to be very difficult to actively dislike.

6) Type Sixes: the enthusiasts. Type Sixes are the hardest type to describe, but once one has had a little practice, they are the easiest type to spot. There is something unseemly about the classic Type Six. They become incredibly interested in certain aspects of the world around them, and they just want to share that with whomever they meet–if necessary, by force.

Type Sixes tend to fall for harebrained schemes, and to try to convert others they meet as well. Is it a good idea to live on a sailboat? If a Type Six thinks so, that will dominate his or her conversation until the next idea comes along. Type Sixes tend to be blind to the flaws in their plans, and also to socially unacceptable things they may do. Type Sixes perpetrate school shootings, since they have no idea what acceptable ways to get attention might be. They tend to build their identities around their interests, and when people reject or mock these interests, they take it as personal rejection. Unfortunately, Type Sixes can get interested in some seriously lame shit. One could argue that Type nes are Type Sixes except for the deep sense of shame that acts like the governors that control the speed on an 18 wheeler.

Type Sixes have willfully disabled those mechanisms. This can be infuriating, but it can be refreshing, too. If one can get a Type Six to behave like a human being for a while, they tend to be intelligent and conversant on a wide raneg of subjects. Don’t talk too long, though. Sixes are lonely and can confabulate freindship with romantic interest very easily.

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On Marketing and Packaging Choices
October 12, 2010, 5:43 pm
Filed under: Misc

vomitola: We should include a fingerpuppet with each one. “Here’s the melodramatic little piglet!”
vomitola: use it to teach your kids about sharing
vomitola: “See, there’s only one, and it’s MINE!”

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The Misguided Armadillo
October 11, 2010, 11:03 pm
Filed under: Love | Tags: , ,

Texas in the summer is a dry and dusty place, click baking hot during the day and baking hot at night. The armadillo is used to such extremes, patient thanks to her protective shell. One day she began to notice a co-worker, a rattlesnake in accounting, as more than a friend. She sidled up to him, and struck up a conversation about wine. This led to them meeting for drinks, which led to sundry goings on in the back seat of a Nissan Pathfinder. All went well for several months, but the Armadillo started to notice the rattlesnake was avoiding her, only agreeing to spend time on certain nights of the week. At first he hissed and rattled and dodged the question, but he finally admitted that he had a mate and a nest of eggs.

The armadillo was beside herself, but after talking to several other armadillos over cosmos, she became buoyed by stories of armadillos who knew armadillos who had successfully moved past affairs. So she screwed up her courage and went to the rattlesnake’s nest. He was out, but she talked to his mate, thinking she could force the issue and at last gain freedom for the rattlesnake. His mate became enraged and coiled up to strike. The armadillo said “Haha, I have a tough shell, you won’t be able to hurt me!” The rattlesnake said “Oh, really?” and lashed out. The armadillo rolled up in a ball, but kept rolling back into the road. Right into the path of an oncoming semi truck.

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The Ironic Wombat
October 11, 2010, 11:01 pm
Filed under: Life's Journey | Tags: ,

There was a wombat who used to talk endlessly about his love for pro-war country songs. He always ate unnaturally colored foods, because, as he told whatever other animals who’d happened to be standing nearby, “Their very existence is totally amazing!” The wombat spent his evenings watching reality tv so that he could parse its deeper meaning-visible only to cultural studies buffs, such as himself. He was always referring to the rest of his countrymen as “a bunch of stupid sheep.” for doing the things he did without his spirit of covert mockery.

One night he was drinking cheap beer for the thrill of it, and holding forth, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. “We are not sheep,” said the dingos’ leader. The wombat doesn’t go to that bar anymore, or at least I haven’t seen him. I wonder why?

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The Big Talking Parrots
October 11, 2010, 11:01 pm
Filed under: Love | Tags:

After several years of pleasant dating, a couple of parrots decided they were in a rut, so they opened their relationship. They chattered and chattered beforehand, but being parrots, they were only repeating things they had heard from other people.

The next saturday, one of those parrots flew to the beach and bedded a muscle-bound seagull. When she got home, the other parrot sulked and wouldn’t speak to her. The next week, the same thing happened, but whenever they tried to talk, all they could do was chatter back and forth with propaganda about how enlightened they both were for doing this.

Finally, the one parrot changed the locks on the tree when the other was out looking for seagulls. He spent so much of his time sulking that he never noticed the giant net he was flying into, and now he lives in a cage in Seacaucus, New Jersey, where some children are trying to teach him dirty words, and to pull out his tail feathers.

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The Badger Who Didn’t Belong
October 11, 2010, 10:59 pm
Filed under: Life's Journey | Tags: , ,

A badger lived under the green hill next to the forest and had a difficult time relating to other animals. He cared about bright sun and cool shadows and the time his 18th-great grandfather had frightened Laura Ingalls Wilder, but the other animals cared about bands, and were proud of all their esoteric knowledge.

The badger was lonely, so he went and put on a suit like the deer’s and walked up to a herd, but they saw right through him and ran away. He tried a rabbit’s long ears and cottony tail next, and it took the rabbits longer to catch on, but when the badger misspoke the name of a famous rabbit singer in casual conversation, they hopped off, laughing their rabbitty laughs. The badger tried a new suit, then, and he felt confident, because it was the most beautiful one available. It had sharp-pricked ears and shining silver fur, plus a plumy tail. He was also custom-fitted for yellow contact lenses.

When he tried loping over to join the wolf, however, the wolf bowed to the badger. “It’s a nice try,” he said, “but you better just go on home.”

“I–I’m a wolf,” said the badger.

“As you wish,” said the wolf, “But as soon as I learn otherwise, you will be my dinner.”

The badger was so scared he cried and shook, and his beautiful silver coat fell off, and the custom made contact lenses welled right out of his eyes.

“You could have tried to keep some dignity, at least,” said the wolf, and he ate the badger up.

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A Warty Love Story
October 11, 2010, 10:58 pm
Filed under: Love | Tags: , ,

There was a little eel who was happy where he lived, with his social life, and with his job of swimming through cool water, but he couldn’t find that special lady, because he was frakin’ slimy, and that’s just how it was. It wasn’t his fault, but that didn’t make him any more attractive. What finally worked was lowering his standards. He and a warty bullfrog he knew through friends are fairly content together now. They share an interest in the films of Woody Allen and Belgian cuisine.

One day, they will have lackluster children. Vive l’amour!

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The Homely Civet Cat: a rough draft
October 11, 2010, 10:56 pm
Filed under: Life's Journey, Misc | Tags:

vomitola: i am thinking of a homely civet cat who goes into the village and is met with jeers.
vomitola: he goes home and cries to his mother, and she says “well, shucks, you go back there and show them!”
vomitola: so he returns, and he eviscerates five people and urinates all over market square.
fights crime: ha ha
vomitola: his homely head is stuffed and mounted in the zoo!
fights crime: but! his musk is used for perfume, and in his way, he lives on
fights crime: and his smell gets to attend parties with rich and important people
fights crime: that’s v. hans christian Andersen

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The Drunken Hedgehog
October 11, 2010, 10:55 pm
Filed under: Your Friends and Neighbors | Tags: ,

Perhaps now is the time to apprise you of the tale of drunken Roger, the hedgehog who lived down the lane. Poor Roger was covered in prickles, and every time he indulged in too much birch beer, he would begin to attempt to take liberties with all and sundry passersby. What an awful nuisance! No one was interested in allowing him liberties, because of his repulsive physical condition. One day a roguish japester rolled poor Roger right up in a Turkish carpet and placed him in the back of a tinker’s wagon! And Roger has not been seen from that day to this.

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