Adventures in Text
–You enter the kitchen. There is an oven.
> Open oven
–You cannot open the oven.
> Push oven
–You cannot push the oven.
> Pull oven
–You cannot pull the oven.
> Pick up oven
–You pick up the oven.
–Your inventory now contains: Oven.
–You are over-encumbered.
> Put down oven
–You cannot put down the oven.
I’m not wasting $11.
I didn’t much care for it either.
“Dear Graham, How do you type with boxing gloves on your hands?”
My grandfather once told me three phrases—concocted by he and his brother while in the army—that they figured everyone should know in as many languages as possible:
- Take off all of your clothes.
- My friend will pay.
- What time does your husband get home?
Could be Aliens?
I saw an older couple walking side-by-side today.
Her arms, rigid at her side. Her hands in fists, but the impression was not one of anger, instead one of keeping all her fingers neatly filed away.
His upper arms at his side, his lower arms bent 90°, meeting in the middle, with interleaved fingers over his lower torso. They were not rest on any sort of belly, the hands were being deliberately held there.
Their faces blank, their entire upper bodies practically motionless, they moved as if they were floating.
Freaked me the hell out.