“I’m telling you, boys, that chick is absolutely off her rocker,” says Sir Chad the Man.

“Oh, come off it, Chad,” says Sir Charlie of the Wing, “you’re just upset you couldn’t slay that dragon.”

Sir Chad slams his pint glass down and points at Sir Charlie. “I could have slayed that damn dragon and you know it. The princess just got in the way and wouldn’t let me!”

“What do you mean, Chad?” Says Sir Kyle of the Wall.

“I mean that princess is coo coo for coco puffs is what I mean!” Chad says shaking his head. “I had the dragon dead to rights. Just as I was about to bring my sword down upon its neck, she ran into the room screaming bloody murder. She started shooting arrows at me and even threw an exploding pot,” he says as he lifts his shirt to show a wound on his abdomen, “bitch got me good. Said I wasn’t welcome at her castle and to get the fuck out.”

“Some thanks for trying to save her,” says Sir Kyle. “I swear, these princesses these days are ungrateful.”

“Right?” says Chad. “Like, damn lady, I was just trying to help you out.”

“Well, just to play devil’s advocate here,” says Sir Charlie, “did she ever ask for your help?”

Chad stares at Charlie with a puzzled, blinking expression, as if his brain were trying to send a distress signal via Morse code. “Why would she need to ask, Charlie? She’s a Princess. In a castle. Guarded by a dragon. I’m a Knight. What more do I need to know?”

“Well, quite a lot actually,” says Charlie. “Did you ever stop to consider that maybe she’s happy in the castle? Or even better, that the dragon is her pet?”

“Her pet?” Says Sir Kyle of the Wall. “Who keeps a dragon as a pet?”

“Well, a rich and powerful princess for one,” says Charlie.

“Oh fuck off Charlie,” says Chad, “she doesn’t keep the dragon as a pet. You know what I think? I think she’s got that Stockholm syndrome. You know, the one where the hostage falls in love with their captor. It only makes sense.”

Sir Kyle nods in affirmation. “Yeah, yeah, that does make sense, Chad. You gotta go back there and try again tomorrow, she definitely needs your help—now more than ever.”

“You’re right!” says Chad. “I need to go back there and this time succeed in slaying that beast and taking her hand in—“

“I really wouldn’t do that, Chad,” says Charlie. “It sounds to me like she doesn’t want to be bothered. I’d just honor her wishes and stay away if I were you.”

“And that is why you are forever of the Wing, Sir Charlie! You never show enough gumption. Always take no for an answer. Not I! Not Sir Chad. I will find a way to make her love me or I will make one!”

“That’s the spirit!” says Sir Kyle.

“I just—can I just say one more thing and I’ll drop it?” says Sir Charlie.

“Say your piece,” says Chad.

“I just think that, we Knights need to do a better job of listening to princesses when they tell us what they want, and respecting that. I mean, this gal was pretty direct with you—hell, she maimed you with an exploding pot. I think that we need to learn to leave well enough alone; she’s more than capable of protecting herself and choosing how she’d like to live. I really think you should reconsider.”

Chad and Kyle share a look and then burst into laughter together, slamming their hands on the table in good cheer.

“Oh, you bastard!” says Chad laughing, “you really had me going! A woman capable of protecting herself! Incredible.”

“You’re too much, Charlie!” says Kyle. “Listening to princesses? That’ll be the day.”

Charlie finishes his beer and shakes his head and exits the bar.

Sir Charlie returns to the bar the next evening. He spots Sirs Chad and Kyle sitting at their usual table. Sir Chad’s head is bandaged, Sir Kyle’s hand in a cast.

“What happened to you two?” says Sir Charlie. “You look like hell.”

“That crazy ass Princess hit me over the head with a frying pan,” says Chad. “Turns out she maybe can defend herself. Still though, she’s fuckin’ nuts.”

“And you?” asks Charlie with a nod to Kyle. “Oh, I heard the news and got so mad I punched a wall,” says Kyle sheepishly.

“Well, I’m just glad you both learned your lesson,” says Charlie. “The next round is on me.”

“Lesson?” says Sir Chad. “I’m going back there tomorrow. This time with a helmet on.

“I’ll save her if it’s the last thing I do!”

r/InMyLife42Archive

Thank you!

Thank you!

Thanks!

Thanks - I’m glad you enjoyed the humor.

Thank you!

Thank you!

Oh no. A lot of people avoiding awkward conversations over there, I’m assuming?

A nurse calls my name, I rise from the uncomfortable waiting room chair and give her a wave. She leads me to a triage room near the waiting room and closes the door.

“So, it sounds like you’re in for rabies exposure?” she asks as she takes my blood pressure.

“Yeah, I picked up a gal at the bar, went back to her place, we do some making out, and then she revealed that she was a Vampire. I did some googling and saw that bats are the primary rabies vector in this part of the world so I figured—“

“Better safe than sorry, huh?” She interrupts.

“Exactly. It’s embarrassing, but we did a lot of kissing and I know it’s transmitted via saliva so…you know.”

“I get it. Can never be too careful,” she says as she removes the cuff. “Blood pressure looks good. Alright, we’ll get you back to see a doctor as soon as we can. We’ll see what the doc recommends based on what you’ve told me.”

I sit in the waiting room for hours as more critical cases come and go—a leprechaun with a unicorn stab wound, a mermaid in the midst of an overdose, a vampire who vomited up drug blood not five feet from me—and I can’t blame them for their triage decisions, but I’m exhausted and starting to grow impatient.

After four hours of waiting, the doctor finally calls me back.

“So, rabies exposure?” she says. “Are you certain you were exposed?”

“Well, no. But I’d rather be safe than sorry,” I reply.

“I understand there was some heavy petting with a saucy vampiress?” she says with a wink.

“Make out session,” I reply.

“And you asked the gal if she was a carrier?” she asks.

“Well, no. Seemed awkward to ask,” I reply.

“Well that makes sense. Why ask a simple and reasonable question of an intimate partner when you can undergo a series of painful injections?” she says with a chuckle.

“You know how it goes,” I say. “I just—I like this girl and I know it is a bit insensitive to assume all vampires carry rabies, but I also know that some do and it would be bad if left untreated. Plus—“

“Fatal,” interrupts the doctor. “It would be 100% fatal if you were exposed and did not get vaccination treatment for rabies. Donezo. Horrible death too.”

I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a doctor’s office and heard the word ‘fatal’ thrown around, but let me tell you it ain’t pleasant.

“Right…so that’s why I came in,” I say.

“Look. I get it,” she says. “I’ve been there. Hell, I myself have a thing for pale night walkers. I’ve personally been vaccinated so that I don’t have to worry about it either. There’s just something about a pasty man that can throw you around that—sorry, it’s been a long night.

“Ok. Here’s what we’re gonna do. You’ll get two injections tonight. One immunoglobulin injection that is human anti-bodies which will help jumpstart your immune response. The other is the rabies vaccine. Then you’ll return for three more vaccine doses over the next month.”

“Sounds great,” I reply.

“I should warn you though,” says the doctor, “the immunoglobulin that we inject is…a large shot. It goes in your ass and it’s going to hurt like hell.”

“Oh, goody,” I say.

“Any questions?” she asks.

“Yeah, am I able to, you know, go out with this gal while I go through the course of treatment?”

“Oh, sure, sure. Even if she’s a carrier you should be fine to continue relations with her as we administer your vaccinations.”

What a relief it was to hear. I would be able to see her again soon. There’s playing hard to get and then there’s ghosting a gal for a month.

The doctor comes back into the room with the syringes ready to go.

“Ready, big guy?” she says.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been called, ‘big guy’ by a doctor who is your own age, but let me tell you it ain’t pleasant.

“Big guy?” I ask.

“Oh, ha,” she chuckles, “I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to Vlad here.”

“Vlad?” I ask.

“Yeah, the immunoglobulin syringe. We call it Vlad the Impaler because of, you know, vampires. That and it very much impales you.”

“Jesus Christ,” I say.

“He can’t help you here!” she says with a comical Transylvanian accent.

Then she impales my ass with Vlad.

The things I do for love.

r/InMyLife42Archive

My dad used to say that my uncle Randy had a dial-up brain in a fiber optic world; I never thought that was fair.

Uncle Randy was dumber than that.

Dial-up connections were slow but they still provided you access to the limitless knowledge of the internet—the information superhighway was at your finger tips, you were just perpetually stuck in the right lane.

Uncle Randy, meanwhile, would be best characterized as a hitchhiker walking backwards down the middle lane of said superhighway, grinning with his thumbs up as the rest of us swerved around him (and I should be clear, this isn’t exactly a metaphor, uncle Randy actually was known to hitchhike by walking backwards down the middle of the highway—at least until some kindly truck driver disabused him of that notion).

While he was as thick as a cup of molasses, he was just as sweet. I remember one Thanksgiving I’d come home from college and Uncle Randy was the first to tell me he was so glad to have me home and that he was proud to be talking to the first man in our family to go to college. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I was not the first and that not only had my dad gone to college, but so had grandpa Bart and my two older cousins who stood not five feet away from us shaking their heads.

Still, it was nice to be appreciated.

That Thanksgiving Uncle Randy, sweet man that he was, made sure to make room for me at the grown-up table. It was a big step for me. I got to listen on as the adults debated politics, religion and the like—you know, kitchen table issues. I sat there as my Grandpa and Dad debated the most recent Presidential scandal. I don’t remember what they said, because I wasn’t listening to them.

I was watching Uncle Randy.

He looked like a man sitting at the center line of a tennis match, his head bobbing between the head and foot of the table as Dad and Grandpa volleyed their respective generational ideals. Meanwhile I swear I could practically hear the squawk of the dial tone whirring inside Uncle Randy’s head. He was clearly thinking long and hard about something. Knowing Randy if he ever formulated his thought, whatever was going to come out was going to be a doozy.

Finally, success. He opened his mouth in that slack-jaw way he did just before he was going to drop some hard-earned insight. I swear I heard the words, “you’ve got mail,” echo from his mouth before he spoke.

“Now, Pops, Marv,” Uncle Randy began, “hold on a minute. I got a question.”

The cousins and I shared a look. My mom chuckled to herself as she upturned her wine glass. The whole table was thinking the same thing. This is gonna be good.

“Well, get on with it then,” said Grandpa impatiently.

“Well, I was just thinkin’,” Uncle Randy said rubbing his chin, ”wouldn’t cinnamon make more sense?”

Grandpa and Dad looked at each other with puzzled expressions. My mom nearly spit her wine on the table as she busted up laughing.

“Oh Randy, you’re too much,” Mom shouted as she slapped her knee.

Uncle Randy just looked at her confused. “Nah, I mean it Mary. You know as well as me that peach and mint ain’t gonna taste good together. I figure they outta mix some cinnamon in for good measure.”

Grandpa, figuring out what Uncle Randy meant simply turned to Grandma and said, “Where did we go wrong with this boy, Charlotte?”

“Oh be nice, Bart,” Grandma replied.

“No, I mean it! He thinks impeachment is a goddamn dessert. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”

“Well, to be fair,” I said, “it would be pretty sweet!”

r/InMyLife42Archive

Thanks! I’m glad you liked that character.

Thank you! I was proud of that one haha

They truly didn’t know who we were.

“Look, I know I’m no Terrible Termite, and don’t approach the property damage levels of the Evil Weevil, but still,” I said to my team after the heroes had paraded us about the city and awarded us with honorary membership to their little ‘League’. “You’d think after three years of villainy I’d have built up at least a passing level of notoriety.”

“You’re telling me,” said the Ancient Aphid, our most senior—and I mean that in the geriatric sense—team member. “I’ve been a thorn in the side of these masked maniacs for going on 35 years and they still don’t recognize me? It’s downright discouraging.”

Our team of five was rounded out by the Gnotorious Gnat, the Furious Fruit Fly, the Calamitous Cricket, and yours truly, the Lucky Louse. We assembled as a villainous quintet a couple years back, ever since then our output had been quite prolific—or so we thought. It turns out that our antics posed nothing more than a mild inconvenience to the heroes of Homefront city.

“I can’t believe this,” said the Gnotorious Gnat. “They just paraded us around the city like we were heroes or something. The audacity! I’m going to have to change my name—I’ve clearly not lived up to it.”

“Oh shut your fuckin’ trap,” said the Furious Fruit Fly. “You losers are too short sighted. Does it chap my ass that they didn’t know who we are? Fuckin’ sure. Ok, you got me. But you’re not looking at the big picture. They think we’re in their group now—we’re under the radar! What’s better than being a pest?” She paused for a response.

The other members of the group were…well, let’s just saw that thinking wasn’t their strong suit. However, I knew just what she was getting at. “The only thing better than being a pest is being an undetected pest,” I said.

“Fuckin’ exactly!” Replied the Furious Fruit Fly. “We can run amok!”

“….,” said The Calamitous Cricket. He kept quiet as his sing-song voice could cave the building in on top of us. If I’m honest, I’m not sure why he ran with us—he could have led his own group of villains. He was that strong. Still, we were lucky to have him in the group, we’d not be in the position we were in without him having almost single-handedly defeated that other troupe of villains.

“What shall be our opening salvo?” Asked the Ancient Aphid. “It must send a message.”

“I say we go to the League HQ and smash all their dinnerware!” Said the Furious Fruit Fly. “That way, when they sit to have dinner they’ll be like ‘what happened to all our dinnerware?’ And then they’ll have to leave to go and purchase more. When they return—this is the best part—their dinner will be cold!” The Furious Fruit Fly let out a villainous cackle.

“Now who’s thinking small?” I ribbed. “That’s not enough. We need to cause some real bodily harm. Here’s what we do. We go into the HQ and we loosen the screws on all of their office chairs, that way when they sit down in them, they’ll collapse and the heroes will suffer injuries, maybe even bonk their heads.”

“That’ll never do,” said the Gnotorious Gnat. “There’s a big problem with your plan, Lucky. They’d have no way of know that it is us! We need something that puts our names on their radars.”

“I thought we were trying to stay under the radar, the whole ‘the only thing better than being a pest is an undetected pest’ thing. Remember?” I said.

“How the heck and I supposed to be Gnotorious if we stay undetected?” He said in a huff.

“Ok ok, what about this?” Said the Furious Fruit Fly. “We break all their dinnerware, but we assemble the broken ceramic in their bunk area so that they step on it when they get out of bed in the morning.”

“Diabolical!” I said.

“Ingenious,” said the Ancient Aphid.

“….,” said the Calamitous Cricket.

“What’s Gnotorious about that?” Said the Gnotorious Gnat.

“That’s the best part!” Said the Furious Fruit Fly. “We arrange the broken bits into our group name. It’ll spell out ‘The Sinister Small Things,” she said as she made a rainbow motion with her hands so we could picture it.

“I love it!” Said the Gnotorious Gnat.

“You think they’ll have enough dinnerware to spell out our whole name?” Said the Ancient Aphid.

“They’re heroes,” I said. “Of course they have enough dinnerware. Buncha prima donnas—can’t expect them to wash a dish.”

“….” Said the Calamitous cricket.

We were all in agreement. Our opening salvo would be one to remember. We’d finally earn our place in the minds of the public and heroes alike.

They would soon know who we were.

“Yeah, they bought it,” said the Calamitous Cricket. “Totally think we have no idea who they are….Yep, still small, scale stuff, I swear they’re harmless, but dumb as rocks. Hey, by the way, let the other guys know to wear shoes to bed next Wednesday….yeah for sure….easiest job ever. Hell, I don’t even have to talk—got these guys thinking I’d level a whole building with just my voice. They don’t know that the sound comes from my goddamn wings haha. Dimwits. I’m worried I might catch stupid by osmosis. Still, it’s nice to relax for once….yeah, you too. Bye now.”

r/InMyLife42Archive

Nelson: “Where should we go?”

Aaron: “Florida?”

N: “Why Florida?”

A: “Why not?”

N: “What do you mean why not?”

A: “I mean, why not?”

N: “Don’t you know?”

A: “Know what?”

N: “Don’t you know about Florida Man?”

A: “He’s real?”

N: “Why wouldn’t he be?”

A: “Isn’t he a myth?”

N: “Isn’t he in the newspapers?”

A: “And you believe the newspapers?”

N: “You don’t?”

A: “Why would I?”

N: “What do you mean?”

A: “How can I trust those liars in the newspapers?”

N: “Wait, what is happening?”

A: “What do you mean?”

N: “Are you…are you Florida Man?”

A: “Why? Who’s asking? Is it the government? Are you FBI? Don’t you have to tell me if you’re a fed?”

N: “Why do I bother anymore?”

A: “Why be like that? Can’t we just get along?”

N: “Where do we go from here?”

A: “….bath salts?”

N: “Do you even have to ask?”

B

A

T

M

A

N

r/InMyLife42Archive

Thank you so much! I’m so glad you enjoyed it so much.

Totally agree. That is a fantastic experience

Fuck reality.

Thanks for the encouragement! I’m glad you enjoyed.

Lol exactly!

Despite my great power I, like all beings, am beholden to the capricious whims of reality. And, much to my detriment and chagrin, perception is reality.

There was a time when I was worshipped as a god, tributes were made in my name, the sweet smoke of ritual sacrifice filled my lungs. Time, the unceasing and propulsive river that she is, flowed on, eroding my name, my followers, and thereby my powers. I became perceived as less than a god.

And so I fell.

But all was not lost. In the next age I was regarded as a benevolent and wise king. I ruled the lands with unquestioned power, but unprecedented grace. The Kingdom flourished and grew, tales of my generosity and acumen spread across the globe, an empire was built in my name. But Time, again, was a cruel mistress. Like the unrelenting sun, she shriveled and shrunk the bodies of my people, but spared me any sign of age. Soon the people rebelled, and perceived me as a demon from the depths of hell.

And so I too, was that.

But all was not lost. I was a devious and deceptive demon. I collected and coveted souls through deals both dastardly and daring. I lived at the cross-roads of desperation and depravity and those who sought me out knew that a deal with me brought bounty and blessings at a bargain. And that was so until Time, once again, foiled my dealings. Like a rapacious zealot, Time erected monuments to the new gods upon my very crossroads, she built glass towers which expanded high into the heavens that I had once ruled over. Soon people no longer sought my deals, I became part and parcel of the of the city; my once great crossroads were then named Prosperity Avenue and Progress Road. I was perceived as a vagabond, a vagrant, an insignificant and small tramp.

And so I too, was that.

And all was lost. I ruled over no land, not even that which I inhabited, unendingly ushered from one place to the next, unwanted, unwelcome. I collected tokens of treasure—one man’s trash—but feared thieves and wrongdoers both seen and unseen. I was forever seated but never rested, I was forever surrounded but always alone. Time, the Great Maestro, again, aimed to thwart me. As she conducted the epic funeral march of progress, my words were drowned out by the orchestral cacophony of the city. I was on the verge of unbecoming. I was nearly invisible, I was blending into the tapestry of the city. My powers and worth withered and decayed. For if perception is reality, there is no thing more dangerous than being unseen.

And then she saw me.

“Here, sir. I bought you this sandwich,” said the girl.

“Thank you,” I croaked. It had been a long time since I had spoken.

“Would you tell me a little about your life?” She asked. I was struck by her beauty both inside and out. It had been eons since I was regarded so tenderly, so mercifully.

And, for the first time in a long time, I smiled. I told her of my travels and triumphs. I impressed her with stories of my status as a powerful god; I regaled her with tales of my regal stature as a benevolent monarch; I startled her with recitals of my rapacious and miserly demonic dealings; I saddened her with stories from my new, lowly station.

As I spoke to her and recounted my acts, I could feel my power swell deep within. I sensed reality shifting, yet again, as I was perceived finally as the great and powerful being that I was.

But, alas, Time betrayed once more. Like a tyrannical director, she decided that it was time to cue the curtain to fall upon my final act and turn out the lights for good.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the girl said as she abruptly rose. Her voice was colored with worry. “I—I’m running late for an appointment. It was…interesting talking to you. Bye!” She said as she ran from my life. When she thought she was out of earshot, I heard her, above the roar of traffic, say, “that guy is fucking crazy.”

And so I too, was that.

r/InMyLife42Archive

I’ll let you know when I get the next part uploaded!

Thank you!

I’ll have another part coming today (hopefully) or Saturday at the latest. Thanks for reading!

Don’t worry, I will put out the next installment sometime today (hopefully). Saturday at the latest. Thanks for your interest in the story!

Indeed. Was foolhardy for the Thraxians to believe that percentage was statistically significant. Although, human’s are more alike the Kereon’s than they are bananas. So that’s something…