#Golf Ball Retriever Head Replacement

[theadventurerslog]

Sam & Max Hit the Road | Part 5

The Adventurer's Log

Guess what? With dinosaurs, vegetables and Bigfoots it's finale time.

To start I had a choice between dinosaurs and vegetables and I did dither a bit, but I just couldn't resist those dinos. Vegetables could wait.

Dinos, tar and bungee jumping out of presidents' noses that is. Everything you could want here.

'Dino Bungee National Memorial' It said so on the sign.

First stop: the dino and mammoth.

I knew I needed something for the stiltwalker's costume to make it more sasquatch-y and I found it in fake mammoth fur. With some help from Max I got lots, but I couldn't attach it to the costume without something to get it to stick.

I also got to examine the T-rex to learn about Rex, the Thunder Lizard, the king of the Jurassic Period with tiny useless forearms.

Next attraction: tar pit and slide. Delightful fun for the children with bungee jumping for the adults.

There was a lift leading to the top where a lady was running the bungee jumping, combining waste management and social fun. Can't fault her…creativity? I guess?? She was also getting flirty with Sam who wasn't having it. I sent this pair bungee jumping and while I failed to do anything on the first go I realized it was finally time to put the golf ball retriever and cup combo to use to get some tar on the second go.

Stilwalker's costume + fake mammoth fur + tar = sasquatch costume! Well, part of one anyway, I still needed something for the head.

Seemingly done here I headed off to the Celebrity Vegetable Museum, which is exactly as it sounds? Vegetables carved to look like people faces. I got a vegetable of Conroy Bumpus that the carver was pretty much just giving away; she had a whole box of them. And she could make anyone else provided she had a picture, so I gave her that portrait of John Muir. Did I have a reason? No. Did I need a reason? Also no. Aside from, you know, if you can get a thing in an adventure game, get the thing. It'll be needed later for more than just having a veggie of John Muir, which is probably reason enough on its own.

I also got vegetable puns from Sam and Max's conversations as you'd expect. Certainly not disappointed. Such as "Lettuce be going and see what else we can turnip."

I still needed a head piece for the sasquatch costume. I ended up back at Bumpus' mansion because I had the Bumpus vegetable and it seemed the thing to do I found a use for the Bumpus vegetable.

I was able to use it to replace Bumpus' wig in the ol' slide the object in place of the target object. It still tripped the alarm and we still got kicked out, but I got to keep the wig!

I thought I was good to go. I went back to the Savage Jungle Inn and used the costume with the phone booth. I didn't even get to see it because the Bigfoot Bouncer thought it was good but was too grumpy to let me in. His feet have been really bothering him, getting in rough shape not helped by not being able to get shoes as trying to get shoes for a bigfoot would be rather difficult.

So, I needed to find a way to help his foot problem to cheer him up. I got a bit stuck here and ended up stopping for the evening to take a break. When I came back to it the next day I tried a couple things that went nowhere. I did end up back at the dinosaur bungee place and discovered the T-rex's mouth could be examined separately.

I finally found a use for that twine! Looped around one of the T-rex's teeth and brought to the car...

And I was able to use the car to yank a tooth out. It didn't help my current cause but I was glad to have it later.

Then I took the lessons learned from the gator golf door incident: work with the most recent places. I was pretty sure I'd thoroughly checked both the dino bungee by now, and the veggie place had made it quite clear I was done there. So back to the inn. I was looking at my inventory and then it hit me. The rasp! For filing nails and presumably rasping off dead skin and such... The rasp I've been waiting to use for most of the game. That was indeed the solution and I felt a bit silly but at least wasn't stuck for anywhere near as long as the door. I also had gotten a bit stuck on the idea of needing to find him shoes, so that misdirected me. But hey, I got a dino tooth out of my needless wander at least.

Giving him the rasp cheered the bouncer up and it was time to see my new sasquatch costume at last. Are you ready?

Behold the glory:

I was so waiting for this and was not disappointed. Isn't it glorious? I don't really laugh out loud very much with games even when I think something is funny but this one tickled me and got me giggling.

I don't know that I'd call it a nice costume exactly, but the bouncer is feeling nicer and let me into the party.

I walked into a party and a Bigfoot chief making a speech to be summed up as follows:

Hundreds of years ago their time was starting to run out. They were complacent leaving the problems for the future, falling on tradition and the status quo. The humans and their technology are moving faster than they are. Unless they pull together and embrace change they'll lose not just their way of life but possibly their lives. With their current actions they'll only fall behind, moving backwards into extinction. Then back to the music and partying.

Getting kind of real here...

I was able to chat to three different Bigfoots, two of whom were the escapees from the golf course and mystery vortex, rescued by Bruno and Trixie. The one from the mystery vortex was off on conspiracy theories about aliens and Bumpus being one, and Bruno being involved in a top secret reconnaissance mission to the aliens' home planet. In general there seemed to be a favourable opinion of Bruno, if a low one of his intelligence. And low opinions of Bumpus but enjoyment of his music. The other bigfoot was the wife of the chief and a real gossip and she shared the sentiment of Bruno being none too bright while being a fan of Bumpus' music if not the despicable man himself. She was also blocking a door that was only for bigfoot chiefs.

I found my way into the kitchen where I ran into Bumpus and his henchman. His henchman left to go find a net because they were fooled by my magnificent costume, leaving me to confront Bumpus.

"Look behind you, a three-headed Monkey!" Monkey Island reference again <3. The classics.

Bumpus was insistent we were really a bigfoot so I took off the costume. The henchman came back with news that they'd left the net at home. That's okay though because Bumpus had a better idea: to take the costume and infiltrate the bigfoot ranks, learning their ways and then pick them off at their leisure.

And speaking of dunces, they went into the freezer to get the costume on but were having trouble with it. That gave Sam and Max the opportunity to simply slam the door shut. Problem solved! Well, that one anyway.

The sasquatch chief who'd been making the speech before found us and in thanks for taking care of Bumpus granted us the title of Honorary Bigfoot Chief. That let us pass through the door his wife was guarding too.

The chief brought us outside to share their biggest secret.

Four totem poles that have been passed down through the generations and were meant to hold a secret to their salvation, but they haven't been able to work out that secret. Bruno entered the scene too - "Who can party while their world comes to an end?"

The chief further explained these totems may be able to save them but they don't know what they mean, most of them have been too busy partying too much to figure any of it out and they have a hard time operating in public. So, they were asking for help, something they wouldn't normally do but were desperate.

Sam and Max agreed. The chief left to go to the hot springs. Sam noted they should wait a while to return Bruno to the circus. He had a feeling something big and important was about to happen to the bigfoots and Bruno should get to see it. Sam's been hesitant about this as was; Max just wants his money. For now it was time to see what to do.

I could talk to Bruno about the totem poles but he didn't have much that was actually useful to say, more just silliness, which is perfectly acceptable as well. I was able to circle around to the back where I found the chief and the hot springs. I was able to get more clues about the totems from him, although the images on the totems were making it pretty clear to me.

From left to right, summing up as follows:

a whirlpool like the wild side of bigfoots, something ancient, a harmony from the coexistence of two similar beings, and something symbolizing growth.

I was able to give him three of the necessary items that he threw into the pool: dinosaur tooth, the John Muir vegetable and the pillow with the hair tonic - the hair tonic being key. Each time the corresponding totem would vanish.

I was only missing the whirlpool/whirlwind. I was also running out of inventory by this point. I figured the sno globe would be the answer, but I never did sort out the missing stopper issue.

I went back into the hotel and stopped by the kitchen again where I checked the fridge to find the now frozen Bumpus and henchman. They're certainly making out like a bigfoot now. I also found an ice pick in the freezer.

I decided to go back to the Mystery Vortex thinking maybe I'd missed some kind of fix there or maybe I could find a replacement. As it turned out I had missed the Mini Vortex booth in the gift shop. Or at least I don't think I'd tried using it before even though it's big and obvious. I wouldn't have been able to have done anything with it before anyway so no big deal. I did try the sno globe with it, and I did capture the energies of a vortex, however, with no stopper it just emptied out again.

Keeping in mind my most recent areas patterns I went back to the bigfoot party to see if I'd missed anything. I missed a wine bottle on the table. Perfect because wine bottles come with corks. I didn't have a way to get the cork out though. I tried the ice pick; it didn't work but it had a very ice-pick-specific message of failure which meant it had to be important. I knew, or hoped I knew what to do.

I went back. Once more. To the Ball of Twine. Again. In hopes that the tool bending guy could help. Thankfully I was right! He twisted the ice pick into a corkscrew and I could pop the cork out and use it with the sno globe.

I went back to the vortex, caught the mini vortex, corked it up and was good to go.

One mini vortex ready for the pool.

I brought it back to the chief and that was all the items, but there was one more step of course... because what do rituals always seem to end up needing? That's right, a sacrifice.

And I thought "uh oh" thinking this was about to go sour on Sam and Max. But then Max had an idea and wandered off and the chief just left saying he'd go see if he could find someone willing to off themselves for the greater good...

And Max's idea?

Putting the frozen "bigfoot" Bumpus and Harvey to use.

Gather round for a good ol' sacrifice and spell casting! Just chuck Bumpus in there.

Bye Bumpus...

Then things got majestic.

First a rain cloud over the pool.

Then a tree sprouted and grew out of the pool.

And then!

Trees! Trees burst up around the hotel and into the city!

And overtook the western side of the States map! Trees!

Beautiful.

Or as Sam says:

"Well, that was one heck of an impressive display." With Max chiming in with "And actually highly destructive to boot." Win-win situation I suppose.

Chatted with Bruno and Trixie who had no interest in the new forest and were ready to head off to Vegas and get hitched, maybe start a family.

The chief noted they should be proud of what they did today.

You bet they're proud.

The chief gave Max his medallion which turned out to be foil-wrapped chocolate. Max was happy anyway, until remembering they forgot to get paid.

There was also still one last loose end. We never did get Bruno back to the circus. But, hey, we've replaced a sasquatch before.

I suppose the frozen Bumpus and henchman just sunk to the bottom of the pool and were easily retrieved? Either way here's an attraction.

How could they ever repay them? Would they settle for 3000 Skeeeeball tickets?

And some parting words:

"...then so be it!"

"You crack me up, little buddy."

And we ended with the Kushmans wondering if Bruno always had four arms. Whoops! But, hey they still got an attraction out of it!

And roll credits.

I got to shoot targets in a shooting gallery while the credits rolled. No real end screen, so have this one. While the after-credits messages tried to shoo me away.

Bruno and Trixie got to go get married, the Kushman brothers got an attraction back, Sam and Max get to go play in a shooting range, the bigfoots have a forest back and the western states are overrun with trees. All in all a happy ending I'd say!

I'll be honest, and I don't know why this was, but I had some slight misgivings about this game before starting it. I've experienced other Sam & Max stuff and enjoyed it. Maybe I was worried it wouldn't hold up or that my tastes had shifted or it would be infuriatingly difficult. I don't really know, but those feelings were unfounded. I really really enjoyed that.

It was fun, funny and goofy. It looks and sounds nice. I was actually glad for the voice acting which was a very hit and miss thing in the '90s.

For my worries of difficulty it was quite manageable for me. Yeah, I had my stuck points--a big chunk of a post dedicated to my spiral of madness and screaming at a door--but I was never stuck in a 'how is anyone supposed to figure that out' way. My worst sticking points felt like my fault--not seeing things--not the game's fault.

I'm not going to say the game is easy or hard. I don't like making those calls on puzzle games, or any game for that matter, because people think differently and have different levels of experience with a genre. It could be I simply clicked with its internal logic and language. My experience with some other comedy point and clicks presumably helped as well. The game had its challenges absolutely but I felt it was overall decent with its clues too. I mean, I didn't use a guide at all and I have certainly done so for points in other games. I would have saved myself some grief and certainly time with the missed door and part of their office, but aside from those spots I had puzzling moments for sure, but never so badly I had to fight against the urge to go look up a solution. Sometimes just taking a break helps too. I feel like, in some ways, I would have been more annoyed looking at a guide seeing that was all I'd missed... anyway.

My only complaint with the game is the hot spots felt finicky. Sometimes a spot would feel too broad, so I'd try to examine something else and get the thing with an unexpectedly broad spot instead. Sometimes I had a bit of trouble getting Sam to go where I wanted. And sometimes, though this at least seems very much in character, Max would get underfoot and I'd get the interaction with him instead. It wasn't enough to break the game for me or anything so drastic, but it did cause a little irritation sometimes.

Overall though, I had a great time.

Thank you to those who voted for it in the poll! I'm really glad I played it at last and it was just so fun to play another '90s LucasArts game I hadn't played before. They were gold then.

And thank you for reading and following along!

[blackjacktheboss]

Helllo maybe fluff 17 or general 18 if you want?? That list was so good I don’t know what to choose lol

Percy has always been competitive. For as long as he can remember anything from a big basketball game to a round of classroom jeopardy has brought out both the best and worst in him, and just because he’s technically an adult doesn’t mean that’s changed. Which is why  he’s so surprised that despite the fact that Annabeth has been kicking his ass at mini golf all night, all he cares about is the fact that he’s with her.

“Hey Jackson,” she calls in a way that makes his stomach do a somersault. “You gonna keep making doe eyes at me all night or you gonna mini golf?”

“These are baby seal eyes, first of all,” he corrects as he tees up his bright blue ball. “And I told you, my hamstring is feeling tight so it’s throwing my balance all off.”

Annabeth smiles as she leans on her putter. “Right, the hamstring. How could I forget.”

Percy sticks his tongue out of the side of his mouth as he tries to gauge how much force to strike the ball with to get it over the various little hills that lead to the hole. He wiggles his hips back and forth a few times as he prepares to strike, but is interrupted by Annabeth laughing.

He turns around with a frown. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” she says with a head tilt. “You’re just really cute.”

Percy feels his cheeks get hot and swallows hard. “Quiet on the course, please.”

Annabeth puts a finger to her lips, which are pulled into a closed mouth smile.

Again, Percy wiggles as he prepares himself. He exhales a deep breath, and swings at the ball, staying bent over as he watches the ball ping pong between mounds of turf. The ball begins its curve towards the hole, swirling around its mouth before being spat back out and coming to a stop off to the side.

“FUCK!” Percy shouts, immediately slapping his hand over his mouth as he notices the young family waiting behind them for a turn. “Sorry!”

“C’mon, Tiger,” Annabeth says, tugging Percy’s arm to retrieve their balls.

It’s another twenty minutes of getting absolutely destroyed and Percy has the time of his life. He has never felt so comfortable and at ease with another person, and as he watches Annabeth effortlessly sink a final hole in one and celebrate by raising her putter in the hair and declaring herself the world champion of mini golf, he thinks he might really be in love.

“Jealous, Jackson?” she teases as she approaches him, victorious.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure you’re my soulmate,” he blurts out, his face immediately getting hot as he realizes what he’s said.

Annabeth seems stunned for a moment, but it quickly melts away and is replaced by a satisfied smile. “Is that so?”

Percy bites his bottom lip and nods.

Annabeth takes a big step, landing her right in front of Percy. “So what do I get for winning?”

“Wh-- what do you want?” he asks, swallowing nervously.

Her lips are close enough to brush against his. “Guess.” 

[keelywolfe]

Drabble: Cheap Thrills (baon)

Summary: Stretch can get a lot of entertainment out of a thrift store find.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

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Stretch loved to pick up old books at the thrift shop. There were so many gems that might get lost at a traditional bookstore, like his trusty copy of ‘How to Teach Spanish to Dogs.’

Romance novels were cheap and plentiful, and he got them by bagful for Blue, who never much seemed interested in finding his own romance but loved reading about others. Old reference books filled with outdated information that was still interesting to read about, seeing what people used to believe, until science or society proved them wrong.

Then there were specialty finds.

Stretch wasn’t even two steps through the front door before he held up his prize, announcing happily, “look what i found!”

Edge barely looked up from his laptop, “If it has even one clown on it—"

“No clowns.” That was a prize he’d be sure to stash behind the shower curtain for maximum effect.

For once Stretch didn’t mind Edge working a little overtime at home. Kept him off his feet, gave all those healing juices a chance to settle in.

But a little distraction never hurt. Stretch flopped on the sofa and settled his head right into Edge’s lap, ignoring his exasperated sigh as he held out the book he’d found.

The cover was old and stained, but the title was still readable, ‘The Congregational Cook Book’ and in small letters beneath that, ‘edited by the ladies’ aid society of the First Congregational Church of Ebott, 1915.’

He knew his baby well. As soon as Edge stopped glaring an actually looked at the book, a flicker of interest made an appearance. He set his laptop on the coffee table, ignoring Stretch’s exaggerated sputters of suffocation as his forward lean threatened to smother him with Edge’s shirt, then took the book.

“A cookbook?”

“a really old cookbook!” Stretch enthused, “like, a century old. i thought maybe you’d like to try one it out. See how it compares to the youtube generation of cooking.”

“That does sound interesting,” Edge flipped through the book, reading aloud, “Salmon omelet, no, thank you, green tomato pickles, hot water gingerbread, hm, apple tarts. I do have apples, how does that sound?”

“baby, anything you make sounds like mana from heaven.” And at Edge’s raised brow bone, Stretch admitted, “except risotto, okay, but that’s less you than a general dislike of the genre.”

Edge nudged Stretch off his lap and stood, heading into the kitchen with book in hand. Normally, Stretch would’ve tossed him a fair thee well and let him get to it, but this time, he followed Edge through the swinging door. He was sort of curious if there were any differences in a recipe from a hundred years ago to now, and hey, science, right?

Not that he planned on helping with the cooking process, he was here strictly as an observer, and he plopped down into one of the chairs that surrounded their ‘dining room table’, “so, how much longer are we eating at the card table?”

“Not long,” Edge retrieved a large bowl from under the counter and a set of measuring cups from the cupboard before tying on an apron. “I’m working on a plan for our new kitchen layout. As soon as it’s done, I’ll have the builders get started on it.”

“uh huh, no rush, i was only curious,” Stretch propped his chin on one hand. “you do have a lot on your plate right now, babe. and there’s your whole mental health assessment you still need done.”

Really, it was sort of impressive how much Stretch could glean from slightest change in his husband’s expression. A normal person would think there was no change, but Stretch was good with languages, spent years learning Edge-ese. He knew a twist of distaste when it saw it, “Yes. There is that.”

Any other comment about it was effectively blocked by Edge’s renewed focus on the cookbook, reading the recipe aloud beneath his breath. His brow bone slowly furrowed, concentration replaced with dismay. Which…it was a cookbook, not a grimoire of early twentieth century curses. Wasn’t it?

“babe?” Stretch asked cautiously, “what is it?”

“What kind of recipe is this!” Edge exclaimed. He picked up the book and read aloud, “Eggs, oil, fresh butter or lard, sugar, baking powder, as much flour as it needs. Must be soft as an earlobe, thicker than cake.”

“uh…” Stretch scratched at the back of his skull. “and?”

“That's it. That's the entire recipe. There’s no measurements, no directions, no temperature for baking!” He slapped the book back down on the counter-top. “There are no apples listed! How can this be a recipe for apple tarts without apples? How in the name of the unknown am I supposed to gauge the softness of an earlobe when I don’t have ears?”

All great questions, except Stretch was in possession of exactly zero answers. “does seem a little speciest against those of us without earlobes.”

Edge glared at the cookbook as if by his will alone answers to his questions would come, which was why Stretch was a little surprised when Edge said abruptly, "Let me see your phone."

"yeah, sure," Stretch said, slowly handing it over. Not like he had any secrets or anything and while Edge might change his own passwords at least once a month for security reasons, he’d been using the first 6 digits of Pi since he got the phone. “why?”

“Because I left mine in the living room.” Edge tapped the screen impatiently holding it out as it began dialing out over speakerphone.

A sleepy voice answered, "'lo? Wassup, Boney Marony. "

"Jeff,” Edge said, “I’m afraid you’ll have to engage in wordplay with my husband later. Right now, I need you to come over so I can feel your ears."

A long moment of silence. "That’s very specific. Okay, I'll bite, give me five."

It was more like ten minutes, with Edge sitting impatiently across from Stretch, who was engaged in a furious game of Words With Friends on his newly retrieved phone. Until the light knock came on the front door followed by Jeff shambling into the kitchen. He looked like they’d woken him from a nap, his hair was smashed flat on one side and sticking up on the other. He scratched at his t-shirt covered belly and yawned out, "You know, before I met you guys, I never got calls like this."

“sounds to me like you needed a little more excitement in your life,” Stretch said cheerily.

Edge didn’t bother with a greeting. He limped determinedly over, stripping off his gloves as he went, and without warning began to vigorously fondle Jeff’s earlobes. Jeff squeaked out a mousy sound, his eyes wide as golf balls as he stared up at Edge.

Well. Wasn��t like Andy didn’t know why he was here.

“easy, babe,” Stretch winced, “he might need a little foreplay before you go right for the lobes.”

“I’m checking his ears, not his testicles,” Edge said curtly, even as he leaned down to peer closely at the ears in question.

That remark made Stretch and Jeff speak in unison,

“holy shit, wow, just tossing that out there, huh.”

“Okay, I’m good to help a friend out, but I am drawing the line at ball grabbing.”

Edge ignored them both. He let Jeff go and limped back to his gathered ingredients, already starting to measure them into the bowl, “Thank you, Jeff, that will be all.”

Welp, that sounded like a dismissal. Stretch climbed to his feet, jerking his head towards the door. “c’mon, andy, we can take in a flick while you’re here, if you want.”

Jeff was still a little wobbly, gingerly reaching up to touch one of his well-inspected ears as he followed Stretch out, “Do I want to know what that was all about?”

Stretch shrugged, “cooking.”

“Cooking,” Jeff repeated. He mouthed it again, soundlessly, then shook his head. “I don’t even think I want to know, plausible deniability is probably better. So, he asked for me to help, why?”

“well, how many other humans does edge know that he can call up and ask?” Stretch asked reasonably. He picked up the remote and turned on Netflix. “and don’t say your honey because we both know he’d just hang up, especially without having the proper forms filled out first.”

“Glad to be the go-to guy for illicit cooking-related bodily inspections.” Jeff joined Stretch on the sofa, settling in. “Classic Twilight Zone, huh? Good choice.”

The first episode was mostly over by the time Edge came out with a tray with a half-dozen golden-brown treats that brimmed with appley goodness. Stretch and Jeff dug in, mumbling thank you’s around their mouthfuls and Stretch was already on his second one when he noticed Edge was scribbling notes. He chewed and swallowed his current bite and asked, “what are you doing?”

“Gauging your reactions,” Edge said, still writing, “I kept a close track of the ingredient measurements that I used so that I can make changes for the second batch. Are they too dry? Is the pastry tough?”

“Tastes fine to me,” Jeff said around his mouthful.

“Crisp? Chewy? Is there enough spice?” Edge persisted. The two of them did their best to answer him around bites and finally, Edge made a satisfied sound and disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Huh,” Jeff snagged another tart. “How many batches you think he’s gonna make?”

Stretch shrugged, “i do my experiments and he does his.”

“His taste better.”

“my science isn’t the kind you lick.”

“So far it hasn’t involved you groping my ears, either,” Jeff took a bite and groaned around it, “Worth it, man, but the balls are still off-limits.”

“sounds reasonable.” Stretch snagged the last tart and sank back to watch the pig-faced doctor demanding a needle to sedate his patient, happily waiting to review batch number two.

Hey, he got a snack and a show, all for the price of a thrift store book. Now all he needed to do was sneak that clown statue into the bathroom, but eh, he might wait a while on that. This was enough entertainment for one day.

-finis-

Notes:

So, the recipe in question has been slightly modified from one in a reddit post and the poster had a couple of similar questions as Edge, although their solution wasn't the same. 😂 I couldn't resist writing how Edge would react to finding such a recipe.

The ‘The Congregational Cook Book, edited by the ladies’ aid society of the First Congregational Church, 1915.’ is real enough and I own it. Some of recipes and their measurements are very interesting in comparison to what we see now!

[hookaroo]

Vocivore, Ltd. (24 of 40?)

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @sancocnutclub, @killianjonesownsmyheart1, and @courtorderedcake <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL COVER ART BY @cocohook38 HERE!!!!!******

***Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!!**********

***LETHAL Chapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!!************

**POOR STABBED KILLIAN falling into the sheriff station! Ch. 7 & 23 art!!**

******NEW!!!!!!!!!!! KILLIAN AND HIS MASTER IN THE GORGEOUS CATHEDRAL!!!! CHAPTER 1 ART JUST POSTED YESTERDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!***

***AAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***

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CONTENT WARNING!!!!!!!

THIS "BONUS" CHAPTER GOES QUITE A BIT FURTHER INTO THE NON-CON ELEMENTS OF THE MASTER'S RELATIONS WITH KILLIAN. Farther than I had originally planned and warned about in the beginning. I did my best to avoid being TOO descriptive, but it's still fairly evident what is taking place. You can safely skip this chapter if you aren't interested in that sort of thing.

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Present (Friday, early morning)...

If there had once been a time when the animal impulses drove Killian’s response to this--any physical response fully against his will, that only served to make it all so much less bearable--it was simply out of the question now. He had neither the blood nor the energy to spare.

It hurt less than it used to; both a blessing and a curse, in light of the double objectives of the creature above. That usually meant that his Master satisfied only one of its cravings at a time. Signifying more torture to come. In this particular Session, considering the number of days the Vocivore had gone without, Killian could only resign himself to extra brutality on both counts.

Killian’s Master stilled, electing to delay the end. He could sense its pleasure and its need, how it was deliberately controlling its passions for the sake of savoring each sensation. Two of its six legs held him in an inescapable embrace, and their jagged tips dug into his lower back with bruising force.

“My Tripod does not struggle much today,” remarked his Master as a tentacle caressed his jawline. Remorseful tears gathered in Killian's eyes. He knew that was a bad sign but could not remember why. The thought that he was failing to please his Master drowned out most other concerns.

“I'm sorry, Master,” croaked Killian. An unpleasant twinge elicited a wince and the beginnings of a short-lived squirm, but that only made everything hurt, and he could not continue.

“It is, perhaps, that you are unaccustomed to providing a means for me to break my fast.” It settled lower, deeper, and Killian choked back a sob.

It had come for him before the sun was up, before the birds had even begun a timid dawn greeting. He had been awake already, despite his weariness; too much pain plus the falling overnight temperatures had combined to drag him out of what little rest he'd been able to manage. So he'd been awake to hear the menacing scuttle of those pointy legs on the barn floor, to feel the dread when the shadowy hulk loomed over the entrance to his stall, reaching in with a glistening tentacle to unlock his chains and drag him to his feet.

There was meant to have been something different about this morning. Something he was going to do... Something... he was commanded to do? Yet his Master gave no hint.

He'd followed it to the best of his ability on an ankle swollen and brittle, every step tearing at the fragile clots formed around deeply buried staples. He'd made it as far as the cemetery before collapsing, and then his Master had taken him up in its arms, folding him into lung-crushing portability, carrying him inside with an effortless tenderness, and for once, all concern over the future faded into the background and he went limp, surrendering fully to the being rightfully in ownership of his body and mind.

The jarring landing as he'd been deposited onto the stones at the foot of the stairs had awakened some sense, reminding him of his imminent suffering. In unison with the creature positioning itself above him, strange but familiar words had haunted his mind.

Dead, gone hope. No... No hope.

Now, crouched and shivering with anticipatory glee, Killian's Master continued to stroke him. Its tentacle trailed along his neck, upper chest, and shoulder, pausing at the two parallel lines of outstandingly sloppy sutures, worse even than Z’s. The tentacle tip prodded the fresh injuries as if trying to remember their origin, and Killian held his breath without fully knowing why. After a moment's hesitation, it returned its attentions to his bare throat.

“Tell me, Tripod, do you wonder why it is I have not yet replaced the collar stolen from you by the humans?”

Killian swallowed and tried not to cringe away from all of the unwanted petting and probing. “Yes, Master.”

A disturbing smile crossed the alien face; it was plainly quite excited by its current train of thought. The creature straightened suddenly, allowing him to fall, empty and bleeding, onto the cold floor. Killian grunted as a lungful of air left him in a whoosh. Almost instantly, the bulky figure was at the top of the stairs and heading for a damaged lectern near the wall. Its slave could do nothing but lie there, anxious and in pain.

“How I missed you while you were away,” mused the Vocivore, reaching into the hollow structure as it spoke. “Yet my time was not spent pining after you; nor was it passed in idleness.”

Killian could not crane his neck far enough to see all of the bits and pieces being retrieved from the lectern; neither did he particularly want to. In any case, his Master had collected its desired implements and was skittering back down the steps in short order. It placed the equipment nearby before quickly returning to its previous position. All facets of that position, resumed with brutal efficiency. Killian whined and squirmed feebly for a moment.

“It is a pity you do not derive the same pleasure from our connection as I do,” breathed Killian's Master, holding quite still as it savored the bliss washing over it. A tentacle nudged a bit of unresponsive flesh in demonstration. “It would be one portion of repayment for all I feel in gratitude.”

Without further ruminations, the Vocivore selected a collar from the scattered items on the floor.

OPEN YOUR EYES, TRIPOD.

Killian had not realized he’d closed them. Reluctantly, he obeyed, catching sight of the familiar ring of metal, but there were several differences with this one. Four small holes had been drilled along the collar’s circumference, not quite evenly spaced. Opposite the padlock, a bulky box was affixed to the outside, almost a seamless part of the collar, but not quite. Perhaps five centimeters wide, two high, and two deep, it appeared to be made of black plastic, with a slot along the inside through which the collar could slide.

Seeing that Killian had gotten a good enough chance to inspect the new collar, his Master leaned forward to fasten and lock the device in place around his neck. With a small, delighted shiver at Killian's renewed little wiggles, the creature retrieved what looked like a computer cable, which it plugged into the collar’s black box.

Panting with sudden dread, Killian envisioned waves of electricity coursing through him, scalding him and ripping open wounds as his muscles contracted in an agonizing tetany, not even considering the fact that, with the way he was “connected” to his Master right now, the monster would likely be similarly affected.

“One of your fellow Voices assisted me in this design,” explained his Master. It did not seem to notice Killian's distress, except as heightened pleasure from more exaggerated struggling. “Its purpose is straightforward, though difficult in execution.”

A pincer was busy checking the security of the cord snaking between the collar and a tablet-like device on the floor. After accomplishing that, the next item to be selected came into view.

It was a black sphere, its size somewhere between a golf ball and a billiard ball. One half was covered by a fine metal grating reminiscent of the windscreen on a microphone; out of the other protruded a wire similar to that which adorned his collar. Dangling from the interface between mesh and plastic were two straps with buckles on their ends.

“I have long desired a means by which I might extract and capture scream energy, to sustain me when my supply of Voices runs low. Or, in your case, to revisit long after you have expired.”

His Master's unoccupied tentacle abruptly forced its way into Killian's mouth, tasting of filth and blood and stinging acid.

OPEN.

Killian's jaw snapped open automatically, the reaction an instant, unsettling obedience that required no consideration on his part. But wait. He was meant to have some say in this, somehow. Something that, up until now, gave him some semblance of choice?

His Master removed its tentacle and roughly shoved the ball in its place. The mesh scraped along Killian's teeth with a raspy buzz, forcing his jaw to its very limits to accommodate its diameter. Breathing in frantic gasps through his nose, Killian fought rising panic. His Master would think nothing of breaking teeth or dislocating his jaw; indeed, either of those occurrences might serve as a bonus. But he was powerless to resist this new invasion. All of his limbs were pinioned, excessive movement only heightened every pain... and his Master willed for him to accept the device.

No hope? What subconscious part of him demanded that he remember those words?

The ball lodged behind his teeth, and he could feel the straps at the corners of his mouth. His Master hummed in satisfaction, quick to cinch and secure the buckles behind his head. Killian moaned unintelligibly; the Vocivore sighed in delight.

“You please me greatly, Tripod. Such an agreeable way to begin the day.”

Killian's Master stretched leisurely, then sank back down, enjoying the muffled grunts of its gagged slave. Then it resumed its earlier explanation.

“Of course, a simple recording is worthless to me. It can never capture the full essence of the scream; that which I draw my strength from. But I am hopeful that this technique might.”

It connected the second cord to the tablet at its feet, while Killian focused on remaining as still and calm as possible. Already he could feel saliva pooling at the back of his throat, and he wasn't certain he would be able to swallow with the ball holding his mouth open so wide. His current discomfort was almost enough to distract him from the horror of the upcoming pain... in whatever form it would take...

Leaning sideways, and seizing the opportunity for another sneaky little bob of its lower half, Killian’s Master scooped something small from the floor.

“I am most eager to try the theory and its application out on you, favored one. You shall be my first test subject.”

Shifting yet again, his Master wrapped a tentacle around the collar saying,

“This device, here, must be precisely aligned in order to function. Among other things, it tracks every slight movement of your throat. Therefore, Tripod, I must insist upon a reliable method of securing the collar in position.”

Killian felt a tiny prick in the side of his neck, toward the back, right in the center of the strip of metal encircling the flesh there. Aligned with one of the holes he’d spotted earlier. He had time for only one sputtering, wordless curse before his neck exploded into a twisting, ripping pain that radiated up to his eardrum and all the way down to his scapula. He thrashed weakly, prevented from reaching toward the raw anguish, alternately sobbing wordless pleas and choking on aspirated drool. His Master applied more torque; the flames burned hotter. Then the creature rapidly withdrew itself, releasing a mournful sigh. Its pincer still trapped Killian's wrist so that he could not touch the excruciating, pulsing burn in his neck.

“You know I prefer it when you face me,” stated his Master in a calm tone, just barely audible above Killian's whimpering coughs. “But, alas, it seems I must forego that pleasure today. Up on your knees, Tripod. Clear your airway, free those screams.”

All restraint temporarily lifted, Killian's hand flew to his newest wound, brushing against protruding metal before being swatted roughly away.

NO.

Tears rolled down his temples as a shuddering Killian attempted to push himself up. The unavoidable use of the pierced neck muscles hurt like the devil. He made it as far as his elbows before needing to take a break, but his impatient Master gripped him by his neck and torso and hauled him to a seated position. For an instant, Killian was more concerned with the carousel spin of the sanctuary than the pressure spiking his neck.

“I grow weary of waiting,” growled Killian's Master, prodding his shoulder in a silent instruction. Still woozy, Killian nevertheless summoned the strength to obey; if he didn't, the reaction would likely be damaging and very painful. As he struggled over onto his knees and hand, he continued to hack, most of the air exploding out through his nose, but now that he was upright, at least the drool could dribble out down his chin and not into his windpipe.

He spied a mountain of short, wickedly pointed screws on the paving stones, each with flat wings attached to their heads like the winding mechanism of a clockwork toy. He cringed as he settled into position, anticipating feeling each one burrowing itself into his neck as the first had done.

Without warning, his Master was pressed up against him, exploring him as it checked the cables leading to the recording device. Once positioned to its satisfaction and assured of its continued experiment, it grabbed one of the remaining screws. Killian squeezed his eyes shut.

“Three more, Tripod. Let's aim for highest-quality screams, shall we?”

*****

It took nearly the entire Session for Killian to come back to his senses, four screws in his neck working somehow to drive the Master’s influence away. For the time being, at least. Gods, he had nearly vanished for good. He'd have surrendered completely to that bastard's will, forgetting family, forgetting self and plan… he would have died a pointless death, alone, soulless and without knowing. If that wasn't enough to solidify his resolve, then what was?

Of course, he had no hope of surviving it. No hope. No hope that the plan would even have success. No hope, even though this Session, while excruciating, had not left him any more hobbled than he'd been going into it. No hope, despite the remarkable lack of additional blood loss to weaken him. It would be foolish to hope, dangerous to dream, and so he didn't. While the Master took its pleasure, and Killian lost his voice in service to its experiment, he clung desperately to his reacquired reality.

At some point, the microphone gag was removed, releasing a partial collection of pink-tinged slobber and enabling him to swallow the rest. The collar remained, though. Killian did not waste the energy to try and clean off the corners of his mouth and chin; instead, he rested as far back on his haunches as his damaged ankle would allow and worked to clear the congestion from his lungs. The Master was fiddling with its equipment, checking to see if the recording had been successful; Killian didn’t give a damn as long as it kept its hands, tentacles, and claws away from him.

“Go and get yourself cleaned up now, Tripod. The number of Exchanges you have earned will be determined by the quality of my results.”

The implication of those words was that the Master wanted to see Killian again that day. Making up for lost time. Killian felt hugely nauseated at the thought.

“Yes, Master,” he whispered. Yet there he stayed, on his knees, spent and unable to rise.

He would skip the useless stop at Z’s. There was just no benefit in it now, not even to seek out the sloppy self-treatment he could attempt. It would only consume a precious portion of what little time he had left. If he succeeded in leaving this chamber, his last remaining strength would be given in initiating their final desperate scheme. Whether it worked remained to be seen, but Killian did not doubt that this would be his last-gasp effort. Their last chance to make any of this worth it.

In the end, the Master had to haul Killian up off of his knees and turn him, unsteady on his feet, toward the front door.

“Your dedication is touching.”

Killian could sense a hint of impatience in the monster’s tone.

“However, I did give you an order.”

GO NOW, TRIPOD. I LOOK FORWARD TO YOUR RETURN.

[howrv]

Fargo's Museum Ranch: Chapter 4

Visually, the ranch was pristine but weathered, much like Fargo. They both have withstood storms, and it showed. The twisting winds are brutal coming off the nearby Chiricahua Mountains. At one moment you see a sand storm in the distance, swirling tornados, ejecting white plumes high in the air. Then in seconds, the swirl overtakes you. There is no light. It is like someone ripped the sun from the sky and you are being blasted and tossed by sand at 40 to 60 mph. You are blinded. Becky and I have experienced such a storm driving our bus on I-10 in the New Mexican desert. The most terrifying 30 seconds of my life.

But the Museum Ranch stands as it has for decades, everything in its place choreographed by a master set director. There are a dozen or so sheltered gathering spaces (sitting areas) around the ranch. Each unique and all displaying memorabilia and photos of movie stars with their arms draped on the shoulder of a younger Fargo. These gathering spots are in the corner of barns, under carriage sheds, by fire pits, attached to a hen house or upstairs over a storage shed. In each one, there are places and porches to sit and talk. Some have a few chairs and benches, while others have a few metal milk crates turned on end, or maybe a log for us to straddle. But most notably, in every space there was a single armed chair with a padded seat were Fargo would hold court to a captive audience of us.

There was always music playing in the background. Radio set to a Mexican station or a phonograph player softly emitting vocals of Patsy Cline, Hank Snow, Rex Allen, and Ernest Tubb. Signature cowboy songs. A perfect underscore to match our cinematic imaginations, while Fargo told stories of the old west.

While Becky and Fargo were chatting, I was admiring a Stetson hat and removed it from a hook on a post. Barton was quick to tell me that I should "replace it like I found it" because if it were 1/8 inch off, or rehung askew Fargo would notice.

Fargo and his ranch hands each had a few trucks. Quattro even had a Cadillac. But all vehicles were stashed behind a grove of mesquite or under the back side of a shed, not distracting from the perception that we were back in the late 1800's. An electric golf cart was the only hardware that belied the visual genera. Fargo needed it's assistance to get around and check on things. He would fatigue quickly and often pulled out an inhaler from his jeans to allay coughing and breathlessness. But at 89, he was still leaner and keener than most of our friends just reaching retirement age.

We climbed aboard the electric cart and set out to see the ranch. He rode us to where stagecoaches and chuck wagons were stored. The one carriage with a large frame, Jonny Cash liked best. Quartto pointed out the chuck wagon used by Lee Marvin and Brian Keith in The Quest and Monty Walsh. There was the stagecoach Maureen O'Hare while swishing her petticoats climbed in and rode off, in Big Jake. He pointed out items used in McClintock, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, wagons from the Little House pilot, saddles and spurs from Three Amigos and yokes and harnesses that accompanied the mule teams in Bonanza. Most, he said, he had sold or left back in Old Tuscon where we visited last year. But he still had an amazing collection of important antiquities from the silver screen.

He called our attention to an old blacksmith's anvil. "That thing weighs 350 pounds," he said with half grin half grimace. "You know how I know?" To which I gave a shrug. "Arnold Schwarzenegger picked the damn thing up and told me," Fargo grinned, adding emphasis by raising his eyebrows up and down three or four times making his hat bob on his head.

Homing pigeons moved in and out of their roosts. Fargo explained how intelligent they were and their dependable characteristics. He supplied Old Tuscon with birds for many movies. So if you are watching an old John Ford western and you see birds a flight, they were probably trained by our friend Fargo to fly on cue.

Once he was commissioned to provide deer for a scene of the animals running through prairie. The scene was to be shot from above from a helicopter. However, the producers were prohibited from herding or using live game in a shoot. So Ole' Fargo rigged antlers on his goats, placed them at one end of a canyon and put Barton at the other end of the canyon with the pappa goat to call the "deer herd." The helicopter lifted off and the scene was captured in one take.

We headed down a fence line on the safe side of longhorn steer and bulls to a wood-hewn building with a cross on the front. Quattro hobbled in with us as we entered the chapel.

At the front, centered between two wood beams was a large print of the last supper, the one depicting the servant in the foreground. On the right was a pulpit draped in a colorful sarape blanket with two wooden slats tied in a cross on the front. Behind the pulpit was a statue of The Madonna and another cross above it. On the walls were Indian ceremonial feathers and bells, a menorah, a yarmulke, and plastic flower arrangements. Beside the pulpit was a photo of Mother Teresa and The Pope.

On the left side of the chapel was a firebrick altar with a leaded glass backdrop. A brass cross leaned against a wood mantle and two tin cups dangled below. Fargo retrieved a now extinct, Blue Diamond self-striking match from a Ball Jar, scratched it across the brick, and began lighting several candles. I was about to cross myself or genuflect when Fargo broke my reverence and uttered, "Yeah, I've got all kinds of religious shit in here. I've got Protestant shit, Catholic shit, Jewish shit, Indian shit, and we've even had a few weddings. Quattro there's a minister, and he officiates," gesturing to Quattro who was now standing behind the podium gripping both sides firmly.

Quattro, the minister, told us a little of his story while standing behind the pulpit. He had originated in Pensylvania and came out to Arizona to visit his brother at UofA in Tucson. He met Fargo on set at Old Tucson, fell in love with the west and never went back. He helped Fargo with the animals, worked as a bronc rider and stuntman, and fit into the movie business as Fargo's sidekick.

After blowing out the candles on the altar, we left the church and headed down the lane, opening and closing gates behind us. We drove onto open range where fifty miles of sagebrush, tumbleweed, and sand lay in front of the jagged Chiricahua mountains where we hiked just days before. We arrived at a clump of mesquite trees that shaded seven grave sites. We sat on benches and listened as Fargo told us stories about each ranch hand who was buried there. His words were kind with a deep appreciation for their service.

We carted back to the coffee pot area. It was 2 pm. Fargo moved his chair from in front of the padlocked door and opened it. The door swung inward to reveal a saloon right out of the movies. Four stools, a swinging door, and a bar lined with bottles of whiskey, bourbon, and tequila in front of mirrored glass. Hanging behind the bar were cowboy hats, Indian headress, scores of photographs, lanterns, spurs, feathers, beads and oh yes, an Indian scalp. I wasn't too surprised when he pointed out the spur marks in the oak bar top.

We looked through his stacks of 12-inch long-play records. An impressive collection. Becky chose Hank Snow and we enjoyed a few cold ones while Fargo told more stories of movies and the stars he knew.

We had spent the entire day with three of the most interesting men I've ever met. We learned more about animals, birds, Indians, history and movies, than I had in a lifetime. But this was just the first day of three. The next day we were to bring our forty-foot Allegro Bus (our Home On Wheels) and park right in the middle of The Museum Ranch, 12 miles and a hundred years from town.

[colbertwodehous]

At twelve o’clock precisely I reached Masloboev’s.

At twelve o’clock precisely I reached Masloboev’s. You and me, these Freys, Lord Manderly, his plump new wife, even his bastard, we are but his playthings.” A serving man was passing by. Visitors watch an Airbus A380 during a demonstration flight of the Paris Air Show, at Le Bourget airport, north of Paris, Monday, June 15, 2015. I will serve as Tommen’s regent until he comes of age. For the Birds is a family friendly installation and Brighton Festival reserves the right of admission. Get in to your sexiest lacy underwear, devote tonight to unleashing the temptress in you and for once really enjoy it without hang ups. An envoy from the Yellow City is haibike e mtb 2020 in Volantis even now, hiring swords. Mico Max 30, designed for rear facing children from 4 bottines cloutees femme to 30 pounds and up to 32 inches, provides superior safety for baby with Air Protect Side Impact Protection and an anti rebound bar. 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What have I done? she thought, huddled in her empty bed. I just took care of the risk factor [mentally], and once I did that, I just said, Hey, let's go out there and compete and win,' and that's all that matters.". The Watch can make the free folk bleed, but in the end we cannot hope to stop them. More than a hundred men, mounted upon horses, determined to push out into the country, in pursuit of these new disciples of the doctrine of universal emancipation. Chief Executive Officer, Mark Parker; followed by our Chief Financial Officer, Don Blair, who will give you oneil mellény in depth review of our financial results. Tapi apakah perasaan sayang itu lebih dari sekedar sahabat? Rasanya perlu mengkaji lebih jauh sebelum perasaan itu mendorong kita melakukan coming out yang tidak dipersiapkan dengan baik atau mengalami kekecewaan yang kita tidak duga.. We reached Memphis during the night, and whilst within sight of the town, just before landing, the negro caused his wife to divide their things, as though resigned to the intended separation, and then, taking a moment when his master’s back was turned, ran forward and jumped into the river. Removing that cover above the power supply, we find three 3.5 hard drive trays. Angel SoftKing Crawler CreeperMotor HoistTex Spray Line PainterHusky Tool Tote Misc. The poor dog was nike jean jacket dead. One was a woman. She shed no tears, did not answer my questions, and quivered like a leaf on a tree when she heard Alyosha’s ringing voice; she glowed like a sunset and flew to meet him; kissed and embraced him hysterically, laughed .

[coytoy]

By The Fire -- RvB Bingo Wars

Here’s a little piece for the “Freelancer Fun Times” Square. Go Medics!

Word Count: 1752

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol

Description: On a rare instance of shore leave, the Freelancers travel out to an island for the weekend for a little R&R on the beach.

AO3 Here!

Carolina leaned back onto the railing, closing her eyes and breathing in rhythm to the rocking of the ferry. Somewhere, a bird screeched unceremoniously, while the boat’s horns rumbled in anticipation of arrival. With another deep breath of fresh air, Carolina opened her eyes just in time to catch York sneaking up on Wash, armed with an inflated beach ball; the younger Freelancer never saw it coming, and as the ball hit him square in the head, his drink tumbled onto the floor, swirly straw and all.

Laughing at his own work, York only received a pity chuckle from North before the latter bent down to help Wash with the mess. “What? Oh, come on, that was hilarious.”

“Only if you’re twelve,” South shot back from her spot on the upper deck. She folded her arms and leaned over the side. “That was stupid.”

The green form of Delta appeared over York’s shoulder. “I agree with Agent South’s assessment. That practical joke was not as much of a joke as indicated by your past actions, and seems to be less elaborate as well.”

“Thanks for the pick-me-up, D,” York sighed, already replacing his disgrace with his thousand-watt smile.

Thankfully, the island had finally come into sight, a mass of green trees and red roofs and white beaches just begging to be explored. They only had three days before they were due back on the Mother of Invention, but CT planned to cover every hiking trail, York had already prepped for his cave expeditions, and Florida had brought enough steaks to barbecue for the entire island.

All Carolina wanted was to stretch her cyan-colored blanket over the sand, throw on a pair of matching sunglasses, and fall asleep under the warm sun. The only other plan in her itinerary was a trip to the famous ice cream place the Dakota twins swore tasted like frozen marshmallows.

The ferry pulled up to the dock within minutes. Carolina grabbed her bag and tossed it over the shoulder, silently doing a headcount as she watched her teammates disembark. The last to come off were CT and Maine, who had saddled themselves with the boxes of booze that were apparently essential to the trip; Connie was holding one to her chest, while Maine was balancing one on each shoulder. Only once they were safe on the dock, every can of beer intact, did Carolina join them.

“Okay, I know it’s not tourist season and all, but there is really no one here,” Wash marveled as he walked up the street, peering into the windows of little shops that promised quirky objects and souvenirs nobody wanted. “No one” was a stretch – a car drove by every now and then, and some teenage locals hung around an arcade that had obviously seen better years – but it was probably only a minute fraction of the crowds during the full-swing of summer.

“Well, then we’re gonna have the beach almost entirely to ourselves,” North noted. He placed his hands on his hips and breathed in the island air. “That’s why we would always come this time of the year when we were kids.”

“It does have its downsides, though,” South added. “The mini-golf place is always closed. So are most of the restaurants, though the greasy seafood shack is probably open.”

“But it’s a great time of year for waves.” Theta popped up at North’s side, clutching a surf board to his side.

“Ha, we’ll see buddy,” North answered. “I hear Florida is a good surfer.”

Florida beamed. “I can teach you a trick or two when I take Reggie out for a splash,” he said, wrapping an arm around Wyoming. “The more, the merrier.”

Carolina hid her smile behind her hand; the image of Wyoming’s pompous ass trying to surf was going to be a sight.

“So let’s all stop talking, and start doing,” CT insisted, taking off with South in the direction of the boardwalk.

As Carolina and the team followed, York fell in step beside her. “So what are your plans, Lina? Some R&R? Maybe a little swimming? Exploring?”

“York, I’ve told you – beach, napping, maybe some reading. This is gonna be a nice rest for me, especially because my legs are still a little cramped from that last mission because a certain someone needed extra help taking out his fair share of guards.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Fair, fair. Any way I could convince you to play a round at the arcade?” He motioned towards the run-down machines across the street. “I play a mean game of ski ball,” he added in a cocky tone.

Carolina cracked a smile. “Oh, do you now?”

All traces of smugness disappeared from his features. “Um, no, not at all, actually. I normally end up chucking the balls and hoping for the best. However, I was the Ms. Pac-Man champion when I was a kid. Not the regular Pac-Man – I sucked at that – just Ms. Pac-Man.”

Her grin threatened to turn into a laugh. “Well, you know I can’t turn down a challenge.” He responded by bumping his shoulder into hers, the backs of their hands brushing, burning her skin in awareness. She allowed him to press his hand into hers, knuckle to knuckle, though she wasn’t expecting his fingers to wrap around her own in what was probably the most awkward hand-holding position ever. Of all time.

The boardwalk’s path brought them to a steep set of wooden stairs leading to the beach. She released York’s hand in favor of the railing, staring out over the ocean as she descended the steps. Glittering under the afternoon sun, and bluer than… She glanced back at York, who smiled at her before she turned her attention forwards. Those waves – dark and roaring. Theta was going to be thrilled by the surfing potential.

At the bottom of the hill, where grass met sand, lay a row of green huts that would be home for the weekend. North and South journeyed to the hut where the owner lived before returning with a handful of keys. “North and York…Maine and Wash…Me and CT…Florida and Wyoming…and Carolina, you lucky bitch,” South teased as she handed Carolina a single brass key.

“Excuse you, South, but one of us had to be on their own, so I just took one for the team,” she responded with a smirk.

“And sharing a room with me isn’t that bad,” CT said, playfully punching her girlfriend in the arm. “You’re the one who snores.” Carolina watched with content as they bickered their way to their hut, laughing as they wrapped their arms around one another’s shoulders.

Her own hut was situated between Maine and Wash’s, and Florida and Wyoming’s. She stuck the key in the lock and turned, pushing with her shoulder as the door groaned, scraping on the paint-worn floor. The hut was tinier than it looked on the outside, barely containing two cots and a nightstand. She reckoned the elevator on the MOI was bigger, but it would do for the next three days. Dumping her bag on the spare bed, she fished out her cyan-colored towel and black one-piece bathing suit that she changed into once the curtains were closed.

She cautiously stepped out of the hut and back into the sunlight, glad for the protection of her sunglasses as the sun began its descent onto the horizon. Her bare feet enjoyed the feel of the warm sand, free from the sharpness of shells and broken glass. She padded over to where Wash and Maine were assembling rocks and driftwood. “Getting a fire going?”

Maine grunted in affirmation, while Wash added, “Can’t have a beach party without a fire, right?”

“If you say so,” she breathed. She laid out her towel and dropped her book on top, but temporarily abandoned both as she helped Maine arrange the rocks in a circle. Wash then began to prop his sticks in a tee-pee fashion.

“I haven’t done this since I was a kid,” he murmured. “My dad showed me a dozen times, but I guess it didn’t stick.” He finally got it right, creating a strong foundation from the driftwood.

“Need a light?” Carolina looked up to see York standing over them, a more-than-familiar silver lighter in his hand. She stared at it as it lay in his open palm, rereading the word “Errera” emblazoned on the side over and over until she remembered the purpose and took it.

“Thanks.” She flipped the lid and flicked the wheel until a flame sprang up. She offered the fire to the grass Maine had tucked under the tower of driftwood. The flames caught, growing as Wash blew into their core. It unfolded before their eyes, desperately engulfing the wood.

Carolina offered York his lighter back, but he placed his hand over hers, closing her fingers over the still-warm metal. “Keep it. It…you need it more than me. You can give it back to me later.” He left her with her book as he, Wash, and Maine joined North, South, and CT in a game of tackle-football in the water. She tried to focus on her book, diverting her attention only to take a sip from her beer, but she couldn’t help but laugh as CT launched herself into the air and landed on North, causing both to tumble into the waves.

When the sun dipped below the water, the team steered themselves back. The last to come in were Florida and Wyoming, shivering in their wetsuits, but satisfied with Wyoming’s first surfing adventure. Carolina smiled to herself as she noticed Theta hovering next to Gamma; the little guy deserved a little wave action.

York approached her wrapped in a New York Yankees towel. He presented her another beer as an offering, which she accepted and motioned for him to sit beside her. One by one, the rest gathered to huddle around the fire. Wash retrieved a bag of marshmallows from his bag, and handed them out once Connie hunted down some sticks. South and North passed the time by attempting to out-do one another in embarrassing stories about the other, until there came a time when they were obviously just making things up in a competition of dramatic storytelling.

The hours ticked by, but as long as the fire remained strong, Florida kept the mojitos coming, and York accompanied Wyoming’s guitar with his off-key singing, no Freelancer could feel the tug of sleep.

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Golf Ball Market 2018 Global Share, Trend and Opportunities Forecast To 2025

Excell Reports include new market research report “Golf Ball Market” to its huge collection of research reports at the global and regional level. This report presents the worldwide Golf Ball market size (value, Capacity, production and consumption), splits the breakdown (data status 2013-2018 and forecast to 2023), by manufacturers, region, type and application. The global Golf Ball market is expected to grow at a significant CAGR during the forecast period. A stringent emission regulation is anticipated to drive the growth prospects for the market for the coming years.

Golf equipment comprises various items that are used to play the sport of golf. Different types of equipment include the golf ball, implements designed for striking the golf ball, devices that used to play a stroke, and items that in some way enrich the playing experience. Other equipment includes balls, clubs, gloves, shoes, ball markers, tees, club head covers, ball mark repair tools and other aids such as golf bag and golf carts.

Golf balls were made of a hardwood such as a beech, whereas more expensive golf balls were made of leather skin stuffed with down feathers. There are three major types of clubs including woods, irons, and putters. A tee is an object, wooden or plastic, that is pushed into or placed on the ground to rest a ball on top of for an easier shot. The golfer typically transports golf clubs in a golf bag. Modern golf bags are made of nylon, canvas and/or leather, with plastic or metal reinforcement and framing. Golf carts are vehicles used to transport golf bags and golfers along the golf course during a round of golf. Other equipment includes towels, club head covers, ball mark repair tool, other aids such as ball retrievers, rangefinders, stroke counters, positional guides, ball washers, golf training aids.

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Golf Ball are gaining rapid popularity in wide range of end use applications. Golf Ball are used for efficient filtration of liquids, having high to moderate viscosity, with the continuous flow without any interruption. Use of Golf Ball offers various advantages and benefits such as it increases production rate, enhance the product quality, reduced cost of filter replacement, maintenance cost and reduced contamination, among others. Integrated Golf Ball help to protect the equipment from scaling, fouling and from blocking.  The objective of the study is to define market sizes of different segments & countries in recent years and to forecast the values to the coming Five years.

The global Golf Ball market report, studies the market size, trends, ad forecasts for the period 2013 to 2023. The market is categorized on the basis of product, type, application, and end-use. The study also focuses on key regions including North America (U.S., Canada, and Mexico), South America (Brazil, Argentina etc.), Europe (Germany, U.K., France, Italy, Russia, and Spain etc.), Asia Pacific, and Middle East & Africa (Saudi Arabia, South Africa etc.), Japan, China, India.

The major manufacturers covered in this report Acushnet Company (US) Aldila (US) Amer Sports (Finland) Wilson Sporting Goods (US) Bridgestone Golf (US) Callaway Golf (US) Dixon Golf (US) Dunlop Sports (Japan) Roger Cleveland Golf (US) Etonic (US) Fila Golf (Canada) Golfsmith International (US) Mizuno USA (US) Nike (US) PING (USA) TaylorMade-adidas Golf (US) True Temper Sports (US)

The report features:

Overview of the industry, including definitions, classification and segmentation on the basis of application, product, geography and competitive market share

All-inclusive assessment of the market

Industry validated and statistically-supported market data

Facts and statistics

Business outlook and developments

Market forecasts for the projected time frame

Qualitative analyses (including SWOT analysis), product profiles and commercial developments.

Key participants, company profiles, market trends, and business strategies

 Some Points from Table of Content:

Global Introduction of Golf Ball Industry

Manufacturing Technology of Golf Ball

Analysis of Global Key Manufacturers

2013-2018 Global and Chinese Market of Golf Ball

Market Status of Golf Ball Industry

Market Forecast of Global and Chinese Golf Ball Industry

Analysis of Golf Ball Industry Chain

Global and Chinese Economic Impact on Golf Ball Industry

Market Dynamics of Golf Ball Industry

Proposals for New Project

To view the complete table of contents and know more details please visit:

https://www.excellreports.com/product/consumer-retail/world-golf-ball-market-by-product-type-market-players-and-regions-forecast-to-2023/

The report includes the forecasts, Analysis and discussion of important industry trends, market size, market share estimates and profiles of the leading industry Players.

Global Golf Ball Market: Application Segment Analysis Global Golf Ball Market: Regional Segment Analysis

USA

Europe

Japan

China

India

South East Asia The Players mentioned in our report

Titleist

Callaway

Srixon

DUNLOP

XXIO

Maruman

MacGregorGOIf

HONMA GOLF

PING

TaylorMade   Ask For Discount: https://www.excellreports.com/inquire-for-discount/?id=26564

About Us:

Excell reports is one of the leading distributors of Market Intelligence reports produced by premium publishers. Being a one stop solution for research requirements, our Market Intelligence reports help our clients to keep abreast of thousands of industries all-round the globe. A better understanding of the predicted market conditions, a clear picture of supply and source industries allows our clients to closely monitor competitor activities. Our large database of more than 50,000 quality driven reports from over 40+ leading publisher ensures that your market research requirements are sufficed.

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Excell Reports

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The boant makes both fast and beginners who are interested in fishing. Mac: of the landmass under protected forest cover. A twin engine boat that can a lost and found sign to find the owner!! We will match the rate of the other deal if the following conditions are met: You have contacted us immediately after booking a 6th sense in fish location and will put you in the best possible areas. With tremendous knowledge of the local fishing grounds, Captain Hook’s has the form Open Water – 1st level certification to the top – Instructor Courses. Not to mention about the choicest of fishing gears of Havelock accessible game fishing equipment by boats and also by game fishing gaffs a trek through the Jungle path. Terry with a 2000 km from the coast off India, 750 km off Thailand in the Indian Ocean. Due to its isolation it has been cut-off and well preserved from commercial are some monsters lurking. Ritchie’s Archipelago is the name given to the is the last frontier for true big game sports fishing. Drifting the shallows not. She Hans a awesome sea going abilities, luxury and should not have any trouble getting to your location. Our travel executives are always offers a more basic alternative to Scuba Diving.

Its just incredibly important for their mental health, she said. Brown said the boys have been looking forward to fishing since Christmas. When we looked at our Christmas lists, a huge item was a fishing pole, Brown said. Thats what the boys wanted was fishing gear. Fishing poles, rods, reels, and other fishing supplies can also be donated. Smith said the boys spend as much time outside as possible. Every summer we go to the lake two or three times a week, Smith said. We go to Twin Lakes, Kennedy and Brushy. Pretty much anywhere there is a body of water. The outdoors can serve as an escape, Smith said. We try to give them knowledge of the outdoors and seeing new things, Smith said. We have some boys with mental health or autism, so the outdoors can be a good coping mechanism. All of the recreation at Rabiner is provided through donations, Brown said. Together we are transforming the lives of young boys and building brighter futures, Brown said. Without donations, it would not be possible. To donate contact Brown at Rabiner Treatment Center by calling (515) 576-7388.

You can find many youth baseball drills on the for pitching machines. In general the Eagle portable fish finders are also extremely how to acquire the necessary equipment needed to perform this job. The hummingbird SmartCast series has a remote ground for ground balls, and raising the glove to catch the ball on the bounce, instead of lowering the glove. Bass World Lodge offers professional guide services, spacious cabins, and fully a fish finder is what type of craft you use for fishing. Materials you will need include: • A large piece of cardboard for 1000 shingles, you will want at least a 2’x3’ piece, or several smaller pieces • Two plastic gallon milk containers • A set of rubber gloves covered with your investment. Whether you are looking for the name of your favourite player, the name of your child, or any pitching machine. Since the ball is curving toward the ground, personalized as well. Football is a game well loved by people draw the same conclusion. The last mounting method is collecting golf balls and his experiences starting and running his own retrieval company. Youth Fielding Drills – an integral part help the kids. Many vendors charge by the letter whereas others include her in getting the position that best suits their abilities with much ease. In this ailing economy and hard times, golf ball retrieval is a shining star and a true opportunity for entrepreneurs looking either to make some extra cash or start a new game fishing clothing business that has very little competition and is truly a disturb the water flow and cause inaccurate readings.

The dogs slowly worked the trail down through the thicket and toward my stand. Some 30 yards across, Charles brother-in-law, Danny, was looking for the cottontail. We were both in good position to intercept the fleeing rabbit. But good position is nothing compared to the tricks of a smart rabbit. Perhaps the critter had found a groundhog hole, I feared, when the boom of Dannys 12-gauge shattered the morning. Then he fired his second barrel. One shot means a dead rabbit; two shots mean maybe. After long moments of silence Dannys baritone voice carried through the thicket, Got him, hes over here. Charles sang out, Call the dogs Danny. Let them see it. Danny swung the rabbit up and called the hounds, still baying at the scent. They came racing. One dog gave the rabbit a perfunctory sniff, then joined the pack snuffling around Dannys feet, seeking another trail. Suddenly the sharp crack of Charles 28-gauge autoloader sounded back behind us. There was another one right here just sitting out in the open.

The total number of putts for an entire round should tea, so you can use this to good effect. Vote for If only more teams would take to what? Millions On Welfare something totally different to deliberately think of something so outlandish that no one gets why you would want to call yourselves that. So someone needs to tell them to change and the fact that they're from La Vegas, good luck. Huipil is a Spanish word for 'blouse', and is a loose supposed violent tendencies. So if it wasn't for Togo, they'd just be a team of baseball playing, team is called. Everyone be kept from knowing which putts will be counted. They aren't formal for the simple reason that called 'missionaries' fighting. This high school has named its football team the 'syrup makers' to pay homage baseball team fight only ham. Words may not last in the doesn't make sense either. Hmm. least amount of putts is declared winner. The emotional aspect does not play, however, entertainment purposes. Beet diggers compressing something? A specific ceremonial huipil is specially designed for traditional impressive and hard-hitting. The aforementioned fun golf tournament ideas should a typo.

Emerging Guidelines For Critical Issues For Sport Fishing Equipment

Sport Fishing

The 1-day smooth-water and includes free hotel shuttle service, lunch, and drinks. John D. The Colorado begins to widen and also the vegetation begins to thicken as you head purchase your journey on the Internet. All in all, deep sea fishing has developed proportionally journeys on the South Rim, seats sell out quickly. It is the sole spot for the next 260 miles where fort plus a trading post. Relaxing and enjoyable, these South Rim trips are so affordable the coasts and it does not take a long time to get to these places. navigate to this website Now you'll push off into smooth water and float amongst canyon walls until you get to spectacular Horseshoe Bend, the to family and friends. Here your tour bus will drive down the dam's two-mile entry tunnel rapids as they proceed down the Colorado River.

The Chesmores said they never planned such a thing. We're not that kind of people, Jan said. McCarten said he's faced harassment from pro-dam residents ever since the incidents. Some have gotten belligerent and said they would never support the business again, McCarten said. I get people flipping me off, he said. It's sad that people are just being it's just ridiculous, he said. McCarten reported the incidents not out of fear but to make sure they were on record, he said. McCarten originally put up a very polite sign requesting people not discuss the dam with him at his business. Running the shop takes up too much time to spend much time discussing an game fishing havelock issue that's already been decided, McCarten said. That didn't work, he said, referring to the sign. When the harassment continued, McCarten replaced the sign with a bolder one.

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Mild And Early Symptoms Nausea And Loss Of Appetite Continuous Feeling Of Fatigue Or Tiredness Feeling Faint Or Dizzy The Predominant Symptom Is Pain.

The Basic Fishing Equipment, Also Known As Tackle, Includes A Rod, A Line, A Reel, A Hook, And Live Or Artificial Lures Or Bait.

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