Heyo, Phyllis Pharaday, here, reporting on a recent family reunion.
Oh how I detest these things.
None of my family even remotely understands my work. *sigh*
Just look at those faces!
Anyway, sadly the family photo was taken hours after the bar had opened, thus the, shall we say, slumped and dazed appearance of many, ahem, relatively speaking.
What, you ask?
Who is the large gentleman to my right?
He is adopted.
The story goes, he was once made of living wood like the rest of us, and brought into this world by a kindly old Italian man. He claimed to have become unstrung by a series of harrowing
events that occured during his youth, which resulted in him becoming what he is today.
He altered the name originally given him after his so called 'transformation', to Ben Oakeo.
Some of the relatives think he is just a deluded old human, and we of the tree embrace anyone that needs embracing, no matter their background, race, religion, nationality, gender, form, species, whether animal, vegetable, mineral, no matter your matter or circumstances.
The chairs we are seated upon, in fact, may also be silent relations.
I will introduce you to a few of the more notable relatives.
The tall, handsome gentleman standing in the back and to my left is Thomas H. Larry.
A scientist, like myself, but in the field of antiquities and archaeology, as well as a decorated military man.
He and I had quite the romance back in the day, zipping around on his Brough Superior SS100 motorbike, (yes, Phyllis is older than you think) but his heart was always in Arabia ever since he was stationed there during the Great War.
I think he still pines for me, though.
Is he looking my way? *blush*
Another noteworthy relative, seated behind me with the pencil mustache is well known author, my uncle, Eric Arthur Blair.
He claims to have foreseen the future. His dates are terribly off. *rolls eyes*
Family members attribute his 'visions' to cerebral termite infestation.
Ugh, there's cousin Rose O'Marginata standing in the far back corner, opposite Thomas.
She is such a beech.
She tried to weasel her way between Thomas and I, but he was disinterested and wood have none of her.
Look at her, all spruced up and haughty.
She always felt she was better than the rest of us.
I see she is here with cousin Charlie, her brother, with his spats, top hat and monocle.
Hmph! He looks more like the Planters peanut man. He certainly has the nut part down alright.
I noticed he brought his life partner along with. A very sweet, country gentleman, but as dumb as the post he was carved from.
These reunions always bring out the worst in me.
My normal reserve and rationale goes right out the window. Ugh.
A few kinsman I'd rather not associate myself with at all. They have ambiguous pasts and unseemly motives.
Several have been, at one time or another, institutionalized, and/or, as we like to refer to it when in front of the children 'up the river at college' (college, a euphemism for jail.)
For instance, take cousin Corky Withers.
He swears he was a human who was Magically transmogrified from his original form.
He was apprehended and placed in an asylum after ranting on about murder, and that someone named 'Fats' (who was never found) was responsible.
He was allowed out today expressly for the reunion, and is seated at the end of the third row from front, with his handler, Ash Hardwood (a man of questionable morality, I do not know where they get these attendants from!)
No! Don't stare at Corky, or even glance his way! It makes him angry, and you don't want to see him when he is angry.
Wait, where is Ash? Seems his seat is empty...
Well, this has just been too much for me, so I will bid you adieu and return to the safety of CONCERN.
I'd much rather deal with possible time warps, god particles, interdimensional rifts (and what they could unleash) than the 'dementional' ones here!
Oh how I detest these things.
None of my family even remotely understands my work. *sigh*
Just look at those faces!
Anyway, sadly the family photo was taken hours after the bar had opened, thus the, shall we say, slumped and dazed appearance of many, ahem, relatively speaking.
What, you ask?
Who is the large gentleman to my right?
He is adopted.
The story goes, he was once made of living wood like the rest of us, and brought into this world by a kindly old Italian man. He claimed to have become unstrung by a series of harrowing
events that occured during his youth, which resulted in him becoming what he is today.
He altered the name originally given him after his so called 'transformation', to Ben Oakeo.
Some of the relatives think he is just a deluded old human, and we of the tree embrace anyone that needs embracing, no matter their background, race, religion, nationality, gender, form, species, whether animal, vegetable, mineral, no matter your matter or circumstances.
The chairs we are seated upon, in fact, may also be silent relations.
I will introduce you to a few of the more notable relatives.
The tall, handsome gentleman standing in the back and to my left is Thomas H. Larry.
A scientist, like myself, but in the field of antiquities and archaeology, as well as a decorated military man.
He and I had quite the romance back in the day, zipping around on his Brough Superior SS100 motorbike, (yes, Phyllis is older than you think) but his heart was always in Arabia ever since he was stationed there during the Great War.
I think he still pines for me, though.
Is he looking my way? *blush*
Another noteworthy relative, seated behind me with the pencil mustache is well known author, my uncle, Eric Arthur Blair.
He claims to have foreseen the future. His dates are terribly off. *rolls eyes*
Family members attribute his 'visions' to cerebral termite infestation.
Ugh, there's cousin Rose O'Marginata standing in the far back corner, opposite Thomas.
She is such a beech.
She tried to weasel her way between Thomas and I, but he was disinterested and wood have none of her.
Look at her, all spruced up and haughty.
She always felt she was better than the rest of us.
I see she is here with cousin Charlie, her brother, with his spats, top hat and monocle.
Hmph! He looks more like the Planters peanut man. He certainly has the nut part down alright.
I noticed he brought his life partner along with. A very sweet, country gentleman, but as dumb as the post he was carved from.
These reunions always bring out the worst in me.
My normal reserve and rationale goes right out the window. Ugh.
A few kinsman I'd rather not associate myself with at all. They have ambiguous pasts and unseemly motives.
Several have been, at one time or another, institutionalized, and/or, as we like to refer to it when in front of the children 'up the river at college' (college, a euphemism for jail.)
For instance, take cousin Corky Withers.
He swears he was a human who was Magically transmogrified from his original form.
He was apprehended and placed in an asylum after ranting on about murder, and that someone named 'Fats' (who was never found) was responsible.
He was allowed out today expressly for the reunion, and is seated at the end of the third row from front, with his handler, Ash Hardwood (a man of questionable morality, I do not know where they get these attendants from!)
No! Don't stare at Corky, or even glance his way! It makes him angry, and you don't want to see him when he is angry.
Wait, where is Ash? Seems his seat is empty...
Well, this has just been too much for me, so I will bid you adieu and return to the safety of CONCERN.
I'd much rather deal with possible time warps, god particles, interdimensional rifts (and what they could unleash) than the 'dementional' ones here!
PHARADAY'S FAMILY ALBUMS
Gwyn Thrilaquest was my theatrical partner when I did ventriloquism while in university, prior to my becoming a theoretical physicist. It helped pay the bills. I lost touch with Gwyn after graduation, I went on for my doctorate, from
what I've heard, she went on to become a sword swallower and untattooed lady in a side show on Coney Island.
what I've heard, she went on to become a sword swallower and untattooed lady in a side show on Coney Island.