“Christ, did you see the size of that thing?”
“Keep focused on the task. One mistake and you’ll regret it for weeks.” I paused, looked up. “If you’re lucky.”
* * * * * * *
“It’s getting worse,” I said, taking a drink and then setting down the glass. “A lot worse.”
“How do you mean?”
“The toxin is getting more intense. You have less time to seek treatment.”
“Ugh.”
“Yeah, but that’s not the fun part. The fun part is that it has also become more virulent.” I took another drink. “Grows faster, larger. I’ve seen it as tall as a man recently. With leaves of concentrated evil that’d cripple you, given half a chance.”
She shuddered. Her face had gone pale.
“And it is penetrating even our supposedly secure perimeter, where I thought we had eradicated it.” I gave a laugh. “What a joke.”
“What can we do? Poison?”
“Nah, even the strongest stuff will only knock it back for a while, and at the cost of everything else in the vicinity. And the authorities would look down on the use of nukes.” I looked at her, my gaze hard. “Only one thing you can do – send someone in to rip it out by the roots.”
She said nothing, just looked at me.
“That means me, getting in there in the thick of it.” I slung back the rest of my drink. “It’s what I do.”
* * * * * * *
The bush towering above me shook, threatened to rain the late season leaves down on my head. I eyed it carefully.
This was going to require just the right kind of motion.
Grasping the running tap root, a mass as big as a man’s thumb, I pulled while standing up and stepping back. It resisted being torn free, grasping all the other ground vines in a desperate attempt to survive. My heart pounded with the effort, and from the frightening prospect of the huge leaves just inches from my face. But then, all of a sudden, it pulled loose.
I let out my breath. Carefully I coiled up the huge poison ivy plant and shoved it into the trash bag.
Because that’s what I do. I’m a Poison Ivy Hunter.
Jim Downey
(With apologies to Harry Harrison. And yes, poison ivy is getting both more toxic and more virulent.)
There’s a sticky note with the words “Japanese toilet” written on it, stuck to the front of the shelf where my monitor sits, right here in front of me.
Why is there a sticky note with the words “Japanese toilet” on it on my desktop, where I can’t miss looking at it?
Because it amuses me. Or, more accurately, because the idea behind it amuses me.
Yes, I am an odd man. But not because I am amused by the words “Japanese toilet.” Or even the words behind such technological marvels. Wait – you do know about modern Japanese ‘supertoilets‘, don’t you? Here’s a bit about one of the models from the leading manufacturer of these devices:
Providing an unsurpassed Washlet® experience, the S300 cleans, soothes and pampers you with five warm water cleansing modes; a warm air dryer; an adjustable cleansing wand; a wireless remote; a heated SoftClose® seat; and an automatic air purifier.
Indulge your senses with the following Washlet S300 features:
- Gentle Aerated Warm Water
- Front and Rear Washing
- Massage Feature
- Warm Air Drying with Variable Three-Temperature Setting
- Automatic Air Purifier
- Heated Seat with Temperature Control
- Convenient Wireless Remote Control with Large LCD Panel
- Docking Station for Easy Cleaning & Installation
- Reinforced Base Plate for Enhanced Durability
How does the Washlet work?
The Washlet is designed to introduce you to a level unprecedented comfort, while delivering on the promise of maximum cleanliness. At your command, an integrated, self-cleaning nozzle extends to release a warm, soothing stream of aerated water to provide the ultimate in personal cleansing.
There are videos there on the site, too. No, really.
Anyway, it’s not so much the toilet itself that I find amusing – though I do love that sophisticated tech has been brought to the complex problem of wiping your butt – it’s what one could do with that technology. No, not *that*, you kinkster.
Rather, something else. Use it as a plot device for a, er, tongue-in-cheek mystery/SF story.
How? Well, this is where I worry me, sometimes. Because consider how the aforementioned toilet works: by directing a spray of warm washing solution to cleanse “thy fundament.”
Now, what if you were wanting to kill someone. Or several someones. Or drug them to make them more pliable, or to do your bidding? But you wanted to do so in a manner which would be very difficult to detect?
And let’s say you were in modern Japan. Or in some other highly-advanced technological location. Maybe on a spaceship, where systems are designed to minimize consumables (like toilet paper) and perfect recycling.
See where I’m going with this?
Yeah, you could use a contact poison which would be absorbed through the mucus membranes. And have it added to the washing solution used by the “washlet”. Who the hell would think of looking *there* for the source of the poison?
Well, I did. Which is why I sometimes worry about myself.
Jim Downey
(If anyone would like to take this idea and run with it, feel free – so long as I get an acknowledgment linking to this post.)
Actually, I’m planned to go to Chicago in about three weeks, to check out a show of marbled paper ebru. I’ll definitely have to check out this place:
Gotta love someplace that has that sort of sense of humor.
Jim Downey
(Via TR.)
A friend who knows I’m not feeling well, and also knows that I don’t generally go to see movies in the theater (antisocial bastard that I am), sent me a link that he figured I probably hadn’t seen. It’s Presto, a short film from Pixar which ran as a special before WALL-E when it was out. Just in case you didn’t get to see it either . . .
Thanks, Jerry!
Jim Downey
OK, I’m sick with the latest iteration of lung gak, this time of the variety requiring inhalers, antibiotics, and codeine to suppress cough. And perhaps it is the drugs for why I find this hilarious:
Reminds me I need to get some fresh catnip…
Jim Downey
I’d heard about this. But seeing it is . . . well . . .
No, really, I’m sober and everything.
Jim Downey
(Via TR.)
Preparing to leave Salt Lake City this morning, drive over the mountains by the scenic route to Loveland, where we’ll spend the day tomorrow relaxing with friends and recovering for the long haul home.
It’s been a good trip – scenery gorgeous, the performances of the Choir excellent and well-received.
As for Salt Lake City, and the pervasive influence of the LDS church here, as in so many things I think Mark Twain said it best. I may have some more to comment on the topic later, once I am safely distant.
For now, time to schlep the bags down to the car and get on the road.
Jim Downey
A long time back I wrote about getting my big safe, to keep the rare books secure, as well as my guns. Which has led to some interesting situations with clients, who somehow don’t expect a mild-mannered bookbinder to also own a decent selection of firearms.
Well, I keep the safe open during the day when I am home (which is usually). This helps to prevent humidity build up – a problem for both the books and the guns. Typically, closing the safe up is the last thing I do at night before going up to bed.
Just like last night. I shut off the computer, turned off the desk lamp, went over and pushed the big door closed and spun the lock. Upstairs to bed.
Wandered down this morning, and our old lady yellow cat was waiting for her breakfast. She’s always waiting when I come down. The younger grey wasn’t around – hadn’t been up on the bed last night, either. She does this sometimes, whether because of just mood or because she decided to stay outside overnight.
I fed the yellow cat, went to the back door and whistled for the other one. Yes, our cats come when called. Particularly when it is time for breakfast.
But there was no sign of her. Oh well, it happens – she must’ve been off adventuring somewhere in our very large yard.
So I went into my usual morning routine. Put away the dishes from the night before as water heated for coffee. Once the coffee was ready, and there was once again hope in the world, went in to my office and fired up the computer. As it booted up, I went over and opened the safe.
Guess who came darting out?
Yeah, the small grey cat. She evidently had decided to investigate the bottom shelf on one side of the safe, which is empty. This is unusual, since she has long since determined that the safe isn’t very interesting.
Anyway, no harm done. She went right to the litter box, then wanted breakfast.
But I bet she stays clear of the safe from now on.
Jim Downey
Communion Of Dreams 