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Isolation update!

Day 74 of Isolation on Tracy Island


“What on earth are you two doing?” Gordon asked, popping up out of nowhere like a tropical jack-in-the-box, his shirt flapping in the breeze, making us both jump.


We were doing nothing more exciting than stretching out on the couch, where I had forced John to settle by laying on him and then demanded he read to me. And since that was actually a pretty normal occurrence, I was at a loss as to what he was referring to. Knowing him he’d just declared today to be “eat with your toes day” or something equally ridiculous and was annoyed we weren’t playing along.


John stopped reading to glare at him. I lifted my head off his shoulder to join in with the glaring.


“We were trying to have a quiet moment without constant interruptions,” I told him. Why did he have to have so many brothers?


“I told you we should have gone up to Five for a few days,” John sighed, picking up the book again and continuing to read from where he had left off. I snuggled closer to listen.


“This supernatural soliciting

Cannot be ill, cannot be good. If ill,

Why hath it given me earnest of success,

Commencing in a truth? I am Thane of Cawdor.

If good, why do I yield to that suggestion

Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair

And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,

Against the use of nature? Present fears

Are less than-”


“That! That’s what I meant. What are you doing?” Gordon interrupted again.


“Trying to read Macbeth, obviously,” I grumbled.


“Why? It’s rubbish. No one reads that sort of thing any more.”


“Sure they do. Did you not read Shakespear in highschool?” I asked.


“Only when I had to, not for fun,“ he sneered that last word in the same tone people use when they have just trodden in something disgusting or realised there is no milk left in the house.


“You don’t know what you’re missing,” I told him.


“You two are so weird, there are billions of books out there and you are reading one so old that hardly anyone can even understand it any more.”


“We understand it, or we wouldn’t be reading it,” John sighed. “It’s not our fault that it’s too intellectual for you.”


“I could understand it just fine if I wanted to!” Gordon protested. We snorted in disbelief. “Hey! I can be an intellectual too, I can be smart. Move over!”


He shoved our legs out of the way, forcing us to sit up and dropped down next to me on the couch.


“Do you have to be here?” John asked.


“Yes. I’m going to prove that I’m smart, keep reading.”


John sighed but continued where he had left off, obviously knowing that there is very little point arguing with him.


“Are less than horrible imaginings.

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical.

Shakes so my single state of man.

That function is smothered in-”


“Nope! I can’t do it! It’s just so boring!” Gordon wailed.


“Heathen!” I smacked him with a cushion.


“Out of my sight! Thou doth infect my eyes!” John flicked his forehead.


“What was that?” Gordon asked, beginning to laugh. “Did you just insult me in your weird Shakespear language?”


"Yes, because we invented old English,” I sighed.


“Thou art a dull and muddy-mettled rascal.”


“Did you just call me stupid in old english?”


“Yep,” I grinned. “He did. It isn’t boring, Shakespear is a total G.”


“Yeah, right, still sounds boring to me.”


“Macbeth is a masterpiece, it’s about a Scottish dude and his mate who meet these three witches and they, out of the goodness of their hearts, give him a prophecy telling him that he’ll become king of Scotland but that his mate will father a whole line of Scottish kings but won’t be king himself. Feeling like this is totally his destiny he isn’t prepared to wait it out and see what happens, he wants to be king now, so, with the urging of his wife, he kills the king and his mate. He is crowned but he becomes overwhelmed with guilt and paranoia. He goes back to the witches and they tell him that he must beware of some other dude named Macduff but that Macbeth is incapable of being harmed by any man born of a woman. So Maccy B, he gets a bit cocky and thinks it’s all good for a while, even though Macbeth’s wife is going a little cray cray and taking the whole handwashing thing a wee bit too seriously. But then Macduff gets in on the action and brings an army with him, they storm the castle and Macduff tells old Bethy that he was born by cesarean-”


“Untimely ripped from his mother’s womb,” John added.


“And Duffy beheads Macbeth and this other dude named Malcom that I forgot to mention, becomes king. See? It’s great!”


“Love, you just butchered Shakespear so badly that even I didn’t understand half of what you just said.”


“It’s my gift to the world,” I shrugged. “My ability to sum up a plot so badly that even I’m not sure if it makes sense. But I thought I did OK with that one.”


“Yeahhh, not so much,” Gordon teased. “I tuned you out three words in.”


“John, insult your brother for me, I am no longer talking to him.”


“Thou yeasty folly-fallen bladder.”


“How dare you, sir! I have no idea what that means but it sounds bad.”


“That’s kind of the point.”


“What’s the point?” Scott chose that moment to walk in, catching the tail end of the conversation.


“John is insulting me!”


“What did you do?”


“Insulted him.”


“I was asking Gordon.”


I cracked up laughing, Scott always has our backs.


“He said that Shakespeare was boring and then was mean to me after I took the time to explain the plot to him. Now I’m not talking to him.”


“Did you explain it the same way you explained The Witches of Eastwick to Virgil? Because I’d seen it and I didn’t understand that either.”


“My talents are wasted on you all,” I nudged John and quirked an eyebrow in Scott’s direction. He rolled his eyes but dutifully dragged out a premium insult.


“Sense sure you haven else could not have motion; but sure that sense is apoplex’d. ”


“Oh my god, you can still do that?” Scott laughed in amazement.


“Do what, insult people?” Gordon asked, clearly confused.


“John was in a Shakespearean insult team in highschool, they actually took part in competitions, he was obviously the champion, won them the league and a bust of Shakespeare’s head as a trophy.”


“Obviously,” I agreed, patting his hand proudly. “Dude got mad skills.”


Gordon’s eyes flicked up to the bookshelf on the balcony above our heads where a small gold bust sat.


“You are so weird.”


“So you frequently tell me. Now, will you two kindly go away and leave us in peace?”


“Oh no, no way,” Scott laughed. “I want to hear more, in fact, I’m calling the others.”


And that’s the story of how John spent more than three hours blowing their minds and damaging their egos with a never ending volley of insults as they goaded him into more and more outlandish attacks. Here are some of the best.


Thou hath not so much brain as ear wax - to Gordon because he’s not intelligent enough to appreciate old english.


Thou qualling ill-nurtured lout - to Alan who kept chanting “me next, me next”.


Most shallow man! Thou worms-meat in respect of a good piece of flesh indeed- to Virgil because he was in the middle of trying to tame his hair when he was summoned.


Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear, Thou lily-liver’d boy - to Scott because he was brave enough to attempt to insult him back.


Thou fawning spur-galled harpy!- at me when I stole his coffee


You should be women, and yet your beards forbid me to interpret that you are so- to all of them.


Your face is a book, where men may read strange matters- to me, because I’m a strange, strange lady and asked for another insult.


Thou fusty onion-eyed nut-hook! - at Virgil, no reason at all.


Draw thy tool. My naked weapon is out- after flipping a certain finger at Scott.


Thou wimpled bat-fowling puttock- at Gordon because it was his fault that John was stuck insulting people when he had just wanted a quiet afternoon.


Thou currish bade-court hedge-pig- at Alan while examining his chin growth.


What, you egg! Young fry of treachery! - at Alan when he sided with Gordon.


Assume a virtue if you have it not- at Gordon when he protested his innocence.


Thou artless tickle-brained haggard! - at Virgil when he compared John’s nose to Shakespeare’s massive hooter.


Thou villainous weather-brained barnacle!- at Gordon, just because, and now everyone is calling him a weather-brained barnacle.


Get thee to a nunnery- to me when I said his Shakespearean accent was strangely hot.


Thou puny rampallian baggage- at Gordon, for no reason other than he’s short.


Thou art some fool, I am loath to beat thee- at Scott when he attempted to start a Shakespearean rap battle (don’t ask, it didn’t last long)


Thine face is not worth sunburning- to Virgil who thinks he’s too cool for sunscreen and has a red nose because he fell asleep in the sun again.


You yourself, sir, shall grow old as I am if like a crab you could go backwards- at Jeff who wanted to know just what the heck was happening in his lounge and why we were all screaming with hysterical laughter.


I scorn you, scurvy companion. What, you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate! Away, you moldy rogue away!- at Alan when he tried to steal one of John’s cookies while he was distracted.


Away, you bottle-ale rascal, you filthy bung, away!- At Gordon when he also attempted cookie theft.


The insult lashes came to a halt when Grandma called us for dinner.


“Hey, John?” Gordon whispered as we bundled down the stairs to the kitchen


“Yeah?”


“I dare you to insult Grandma’s cooking.”


“No, my love, it’s not worth it, think of the children!” I gasped.


“What children?” he asked, genuinely perplexed.


I shrugged. “Our non-existent children, I just thought I’d go full movie heroine for dramatic effect. You do what you want, you’re all crazy.”

He narrowed his eyes as he thought about it, then nodded. I should have known, no Tracy can resist a dare.


Grandma plonked down plates of something that might have been chicken, but also might have been sausages in a gravy for gruel straight out of a Dickensean nightmare.


I watched John out of the corner of my eye. Would he actually do it? He took a deep breath, as if psyching himself up for it. I couldn’t blame him. He pushed the plate away and opened his mouth.


“Away, you starvelling, you elf-skin, you dried neat’s-tongue, bull’s-pizzle, you stock-fish! Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers.”


I think John’s grounded now, but the boys still haven’t stopped laughing…

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Isolation update!

Day 73 of Isolation on Tracy Island


“Scott?”


“Yeah?” he looked over from the movie he was half watching, caught somewhere between wakefulness and sleep.


“Can we go out?”


“Huh?” he frowned, clearly not following me at all. Can’t say I blame him, I hadn’t said a word for twenty minutes, a minor miracle for me, and then announced that.


“Don’t fall for it,” John advised.


“Can we go out?” I repeated.


“Where? It’s not like there’s anywhere to go,“ Scott asked.


I waved my phone at him. “England has just eased the lockdown and has said you can have up to six people in a garden at one time and I want to visit my mum.”


“Sure, I mean, I guess so. When do you want to go?” He’s such a good boy, this one.


“Now.”


“Now? You do realise it’s almost midnight, don’t you?”


“Yeah, but we’re on the other side of the world, it’s daytime there. If we go in the morning it’ll be too late. Come on, please? I’ve not seen them in over two months.”


“Why me?” he groaned. “It’s this supposed to be John’s job?”


“You have the craft that can get anywhere in the world in under twenty minutes. And he’s refused to ever go to her’s for a barbecue again.”


“Too right I have,” he muttered. I nudged him with my elbow and he nudged me back. We got into a little nudge fight until Scott cleared his throat.


“I’m probably going to regret asking this since I already said yes, but why won’t John go again?”


“Mum has a habit of inviting everyone she knows and then she forces us to socialise. Last time she towed him around and introduced him to everyone and forced him to eat three burgers because he is too skinny.”


“It was horrendous,” he shuddered. “I felt like I was on parade, I half expected someone to check my teeth and smack my rump.”


“She can’t do it this time because of the six people limit, but apparently this brave, heroic rescuer isn’t prepared to risk it.”


“Because I’m not stupid,” he snorted. “I’ll stay here and just be happy when you get back, OK?”


“That is somewhat acceptable,” I allowed. “But you had better be bloody ecstatic when I return.”


“Can I take back my agreement to go?” Scott asked.


“No, but you can bring a few more brothers if you want to, choose wisely.”


“Virgil, everyone loves him,” Scott decided. “The other two can’t be trusted anywhere. Hey, Virg?”


“Yeah?” he called back from the kitchen where he was making his ninth cup of coffee (and then wonders why he’s still awake at 3am).


“You wanna go to a barbecue?”


“Food? Sure! When?”


“Now!”


“Sure!”


“I notice you didn’t tell him where,” John grinned, receiving a soft smack on the knee for the comment.


“It won’t be that bad,” I insisted, but honestly I’m not sure who I was trying to convince. “She’ll ask where you are, you know that, right?”


“Tell her that I fell into a black hole and you’re expecting it to spit me out sometime before Christmas.”


“Yeah, like she’s going to believe that one again.”


***


There was a crowd of children outside as Scott lowered One down onto the grassy green outside Mum’s house, managing to avoid the trees. Skilled, that one. I can’t even park straight most days.


“There you are!” Mum called from the door, refusing to step one foot outside while the rest of the world of out was around. “Go round the back, you can’t come inside the house, your brother’s already out there! Have you got a toilet in that fancy machine? Because you can’t come inside the house! Did you bring your own plates? Because you-”


“Can’t come inside the house,” we choroused.


“We know, Mum, don’t worry.”


“Alright,” she answered. “Oh, did you bring your own drinks? Because you can’t come inside the house. No cuppa for you today, sorry, because you can’t come in and you know I won’t have my good mugs out in the garden.”


“It’s fine, Mum, we can only stay for an hour anyway, it’s getting late.”


“It’s only just gone one!”


“Yeah, but it’s one in the morning for us, you know that.”


“Oh, I’ll never get used to that nonsense,” she muttered dismissively as she shut the door on us.


“Should I be scared?” Virgil asked.


“No, don’t be silly, she loves you,” I assured him, silently crossing my fingers in the hope that I wasn’t lying to him.


We’ll just stay an hour turned into three and it was growing light by the time we touched back down Tracy Island side. John was dozing on the couch when we got back. I waved one of the leftover burgers under his nose that Scott had ended up cooking because Mum had decided that drinking copious amounts of gin was a better use of her time than actually cooking the food she’d invited us to eat. My brother, being a vegetarian, refused to touch anything meat related and wouldn’t cook either.


John grabbed at the burger without even opening his eyes, catching my wrist and directing it towards his mouth while I held it for him, only sitting up to take it once he’d taken a bite.


“Lazy,” I accused, but he knew I didn’t mean it.


“How bad was it?” he asked Scott and Virgil, who flopped wearily down on the couch opposite.


“I had a great time,” Virgil grinned.


“Only because of the dog,” Scott grumbled.


“Mum’s dog fell in love with him,” I explained. “Fat, soppy staffie that insisted on climbing on his lap and refused to move.”


“He was cute,” Virgil cooed. “And he loved me.”


“That dog loves everyone,” John told him. “You aren’t special.”


“Apparently Scott is,” I grinned. “Mum thinks he’s the most handsome thing ever to have walked this earth, she is obsessed with him. She kept checking him out, I’m sure of it.”


“I feel slightly violated,” Scott confessed. “She wouldn’t leave me alone, she kept asking me questions.”


“She did that to me too,” John told him. “Did she call all her neighbours to come to meet you?”


“Yes, one even got a ladder out to wave over the fence”


“Did she tell you all that she loves you because she was tipsy?”


“Many times, we got a lot of attention.”


“Did you end up cooking because she forgot to and burnt the first batch?” John continued his interrogation.


“No, I ended up cooking because the first batch were only cooked on one side,” Scott answered.


“I played with the puppy,” Virgil smiled.


“He’s hardly a puppy, he’s eleven,” I laughed.


“They are puppies forever,” he insisted.


“So you regret taking her?”John asked Scott.


“No, of course not. She’s been here for more than two months with our family, she needed to see her’s,” he answered. “But I do regret forgetting to set the alarm on One and now we have to scrub off a rude depiction of a piece of male anatomy that’s been spray painted on one of her tail fins.” Scott yawned and got up. “I’m going to get a few hours sleep before we give my baby a bath.”


“Scott!” Virgil yelled, jumping up and following after him. “Can we get a puppy?”


“And you wondered why I didn’t want to go,” John finished his burger and grabbed my hand, hauling me to my feet. “Bed for you, it’s late and you know full well you’ll be helping him clean tomorrow.”

image
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Urghhh, boys…

Day 72 of Isolation on Tracy Island.


After yesterday’s posh day we were all feeling the need to be sloppy and just slob around the house but unfortunately Jeff had other ideas.


“You kids are not going to spend another day laying around the house in your pyjamas, I refuse to allow it. I know that the chance of us getting a call out is remote, but we have to be professional, we can’t let our standards slip…are you listening to me?”


Alan was snoring on my shoulder, Gordon was playing a game on his phone, Virgil was lounging on Scott and John hadn’t even looked up from his book. None of us were dressed. The three older boys were wearing nothing but pyjama bottoms, only Alan was wearing a T-shirt with his.


“I’ll take that as a no,” Jeff muttered, giving up and walking away, no doubt to call one of his buddies and complain about us. Again.


I reached out a foot and nudged Gordon who was only wearing a pair of swim shorts. “Oi, Squidward, he wants us all to get dressed.” I couldn’t talk, I was one of the people still in PJ bottoms (stolen) and a vest top and I had planned on staying that way all day too.


None of them made a move to get up, in fact Virgil stretched out further, draping his legs over his brother’s.


“Come on, guys, let’s not annoy him too much today.“ I nudged Gordon again, I wasn’t picking on him specifically, he was just the only one I could reach sandwiched between John and Alan as I was, I’d have to over stretch to reach the other two.


"Stop kicking me! Fine, I’ll get dressed, but I’m not making any effort with it,” Gordon huffed. “In fact, I’m going to find the oldest, scruffiest things I own and I’m going to wear them all day.”


“That’s actually a funny idea,” Scott laughed, “he’d hate that, but you’d be doing exactly what he asked.”


“Wanna do it too?” he asked.


“Maybe. Virg?”


“Huh? Oh, yeah, I suppose we could join in,” Virgil agreed slowly.


“Excellent! John, you in?” Gordon asked.


“John?” Scott called when John, as usual, tuned Gordon out quite effectively.


“Yeah?” John didn’t look up. I always admire his ability to just be completely in the zone and ignore everything else.


“Are you in?” Gordon asked him.


“In where? When was I out?”


“These numpties seem to think that the best response to your dad wanting us to get dressed is to wear the oldest, grungiest things they own. They want to know if you want to play too,” I explained.


“Oh,” he scratched his chin as he paused to think about it. “I guess so.”


“What about Alan?” Virgil asked.


I nudged him gently. “Allie?” He didn’t stir.


“Alan?” I jiggled my shoulder. Didn’t work.


John reached over and flicked his forehead.


“Huh? Wah?” he jerked awake, a thin string of drool stretching from my shoulder to his mouth. He scrubbed at his cheek with one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other looking so disoriented I couldn’t help but smile even though I did have a soggy shoulder. John passed us kleenex from under the coffee table.


“Eww, sorry,” Alan groaned, horrified.


“It’s fine, boo,” I assured him as I wiped off my shoulder. I’d had worse and probably not for the last time. “Sorry to wake you after you had such a strenuous night killing zombies, but you need to get dressed.”


“We’re gonna wear the worst clothes we own,” Gordon told him.


“OK,” Alan agreed, not even bothering to ask why they were doing such a thing. That was one thing that always made me laugh about him, he just went along with anything without needing an explanation.


“I guess we’re going to look awful today,” I sighed, following them out the door.


I didn’t have a lot to choose from since my staying at the Island had been a gradual thing and I still had my own place, so most of the clothes I had shoehorned into an already pretty full wardrobe consisted of things I’d worn while there for one reason or another, a few bits that I’d obviously packed at some point and left there and things I’d left behind because I’d stolen something of someone elses to wear to go home. There were a few things I’d picked up on shopping trips with Grandma but all my truly hideous old stuff was at home.


“I don’t have anything to wear,” I complained to John who had his head buried inside his wardrobe and was digging around at the back.


“You always say that and it’s always a lie,” he answered.


“I mean it this time, this isn’t just that there’s nothing that I want to wear, I truly don’t have anything to wear, I only had the dress I wore last night because I wore it to Penny’s party and didn’t go home. I’ve only got stuff here that I actually like, nothing hideous or old.”


“I beg to differ, that T-shirt you wear to bed is both old and hideous.”


“How dare you attack my muppets shirt, he of the disgusting dressing gown! That shirt happens to be my favorite and it’s vintage.”


He didn’t say anything in defense of his silk monstrosity, continuing to rummage for another minute before he backed out, dragging a box with him.


“What have you found?” I asked, genuinely interested. John wasn’t one to keep a lot of things that were no longer useful to him, he had the same sentimental streak as the others but he was more practical with it and everyday items didn’t seem to warrant the same loyalty as they did to me. I’m the type that won’t throw out a broken pencil because I once wrote a shopping list with it. I’m a just in case type of person, it might be useful one day. If it’s not useful straight away, John doesn’t want it. Serve a purpose or get out.


“My college things,” he flipped open the lid and I got down on the floor to nose through with him. There were sweatshirts, T-shirts, sweatpants, athletic shorts, tank tops and a few T-shirts with witty slogans on them including “I was taught to think before I act, so if I smack you, rest assured I’ve thought about it and I am confident in my decision”, “I wasn’t listening, so I’m going to smile and hope for the best” and “I’m not superman, but I am a communications engineer, so close enough.”


“These are absolute gold!” I laughed, dragging them out. “Why don’t you wear these?”


“They were all gifts,” he shrugged. He selected one at random ( “I may be wrong…but it’s highly unlikely”) and a pair of Harvard sweatpants and pulled them on.


“I’ve still got nothing to wear,” I groused. “Help me!”


He gave me a look that said he’d done all he could already and now I was on my own, there was just no helping some people.


“Why don’t you just ask everyone to donate one item and see what you end up with?” he suggested.


“No, that’s ridic-” I paused. “Actually not a bad idea,” I finished and started drafting a text.


***


Jeff walked into the lounge an hour later and stopped dead in the doorway, his eyes tracking from one to the other and then back again, as if he couldn’t quite take it all in to start with.


Scott was wearing an old Air Force hoodie and a pair of sweatpants so old that they were skin tight on him and only reached to just below his knees and the T-shirt he wore underneath was so faded it was almost see through.


Alan had emerged in a very short and tight Batman playsuit he apparently had when he was eight to go to a birthday party.


Gordon had donned an old shirt that said “I kiss dolphins on porpoise” with a very faded, too short and too tight shirt that looked like it might have once had waves and a surfboard on it but now I couldn’t be sure, and he’d finished it off with a pair of olympic speedos. It was a look, I’d give him that.


Virgil just looked a mess, a grungy, disgusting mess, not helped by the fact that his standard look this week had been homeless lumberjack. His jeans, which I ‘think’ were once blue, had so many grease stains and paint splatters on them it was hard to tell, they were so stiffly encrusted with grot, especially on the thighs were he had a habit of wiping his hands, they looked like they could stand up on their own. His T-shirt was in a similar state as Scott’s, it had been white but had worn so thin you could see through it and it too was covered in paint splotches and had grease stain hand prints on it. What did that boy do to his damned clothes?


I looked the worst of the bunch. They had come through for me in spectacular fashion. I was wearing a T-shirt of Alan’s that had some computer game logo on it and was ripped half way up one seam, a pair of Hawaiian board shorts from Gordon, an old flannel shirt of Virgil’s (yep, it was dirty too and had little holes in it where he’d been grinding something and sparks had flown everywhere) and for some reason Scott had presented me with a very strangely patterned bandanna he’s picked up in Egypt, which was tied around my head.


“Hey, Dad, we got dressed!” Gordon called out cherrily, waving from his spot on the couch.


“Don’t bother to tell me what is going on, I don’t even want to know,” he sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. Without another word he turned around and walked straight back out again.


Poor Jeff, when he told us to be professionals he should have realised that he was asking the impossible.

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It began with a fourteen day stay at home order to “help the hospitals not become overwhelmed.” Changed to a 14-day quarantine to stem the spread. Those fourteen days grew to thirty days, then sixty. In some places like California and Michigan they are saying this is “the new normal and will never end”.

Public health leaders told us we did not need masks that six feet away was enough.  Then they said we all need masks all the time and that we still needed to stay six feet apart. Cloth masks were ok then they were not. Hard surfaces held the virus then they did not. Public health officials seemed to not be able to make up their minds. Each new study gave a different answer. Then they told us all the computer models contradicted each other and all were wrong.T

he media kept printing the numbers of deaths like a body count in the Vietnam war. Except they never published the rates per million because that would not scare us enough. A 99.03 survival rate would not sound apocalyptic enough. The media disparaged the individual while talking about social rules and social compliance as a sign of individual love. Politicians virtue signaled at every press conference.

People got tired and frustrated. They began to feel like they were being lied to at every turn. They felt manipulated by a media elites who turned this “pandemic” political. Social cooperation devolved into protests to open. Businesses closed too long and people were losing homes, livelihood, personal dreams. Court battles started over violations of constitutional rights. People began to polarize and speak of Red states as free states. Blue states became unfree states or “communist states”.

Child abuse rates, domestic violence rates, anxiety and depression soared. Then the last straw was a video of a cop, who should not have been a cop, abusing a citizen even after that citizen complied. That man not only is a symbol of racial abuse  it is a symbol of the systemic abuse of government powers in the  last three months.  What started as a race issue became a society wide I have had enough issue. Then the riots and looting started

A friend put it to me this way,

A horse without a job becomes an unruly pushy horse. Put in a small 12x 12 stall he becomes an angry, food aggressive, irritable horse.I’ve recently seen an EMS worker who attempted suicide. One of how many struggling. ???I’ve witnessed several nurses who QUIT. For their sanity. One of how many??My disabled sister managed her health challenges by going to a gym and volunteering at an animal shelter. Her means to keep sane and healthy stripped from her by the state.ONE of HOW many???”

Human’s like horses are social animals. The factor that the public health doctors, computer modelers and mathematicians did not enter in their equations was the human need for socialization. And in the abstract models they generated of virus spread they generated fear and even greater personal devastation because they did not take into account the "human costs” .

That Americans complied at first does speak to human caring and generosity. That Americans became tired, frustrated and violent points to a larger failure of Public Health understanding to mental health as part of public health. They relied too much on computers models that cannot take in to account the human spirit and human needs.

I have lived through many “pandemics”. Polio and TB when I was a child. The Honk Kong virus, Sars, H1N1, Mers.  Never in my lifetime did we react to a “pandemic” as we have this one. People continued with their lives. In 1968 in the midst of the Hong Kong flu we held Woodstock.  The world did not stop, and “millions” did not die as predicted.  

My grandparents, both born  at the turn of the 19th Century into the 20th, lived through far worse and society did not shut down.

Public health, the medical community and the media have taken advantage of their positions of authority and responsibility. Instead of calm, sane well though out information, public health talking heads and reporters used manipulation and fear to force compliance with flawed computer models. These models did not take  into account the one thing that computer nerds do not understand, the deep psychology of the human spirit, the willingness to help each other at great sacrifice. They used numbers to manipulate us, shame us, make people afraid as a way of conducting radical social engineering.

There is a human toll in this that has not even begun to be calculated. There is a toll in mental health, increasing social violence, an even greater distrust of political leaders and the media.  We now even distrust each other as we divide into “free people” vs “sheeple”.

Public health failed us because not only was most of the data wrong, it was inconsistent. Science turned into a reactionary force.

This is not the new normal. 

Pandemics pass and societies move on. People want to and need to socialize in restaurants and pubs. People need to see each other’s faces without masks, they need to embrace, to touch to shake hands. Life cannot be boiled down to a computer model. We do not need a society born of some dystopian view of life that comes from a total lack of understanding of the human need for each other and for social interaction.

Public health, the media and Politicians have betrayed us in the name of saving us. 

It is time for all of us to go back to work, to get rid of masks, to stop fearing being within six feet of each other. We have shown we actually do care. For months we have done our best to follow conflicting and manipulated information. We are at a place where the rioting in the streets is not only about the brutal death of one man by a bad representative of the state but about the brutality of unemployment, social isolation and denial of our rights as citizens and human beings creates by the state claiming to save us. 

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image

Dreams arent meant to grow into flowers but rather fluorescent fungus deep within the mysterious and sprawling yet magical caves, from the withered remains comes entirely new and previously unheard of beauty

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Did someone ask for Tracy’s racing golf carts? No? Oh well…

Day 70 of Isolation on Tracy Island.


We all slept in late this morning, well, those of us that actually got to bed did, when we finally got up around lunch time we found Gordon and Scott passed out on the couches and Brains asleep at the kitchen table with a cold cup of coffee still clutched in his hand like a teddy bear.


I sent John, Virg, Grandma, Kayo and Jeff out to the pool and sorted breakfast myself, being careful not to wake the sleeping beauties.


Once breakfast was done we quietly made our way down to the hangar to see what progress the boys had made over night and to check that no sabotage had happened to the girl golf while we were sleeping.


It looked like the boys had managed to finish it at some point, or as close to, but we still had no idea why Gordon had wanted them or what he was planning on doing with them. We all drifted off to our own activities. I had the sudden and undeniable urge to bake miniature cupcakes and since Brains had apparently awoken and wandered off at some point, I had free use of the kitchen. I left them on the side for anyone who wanted to eat them and tracked John down to indulge in my favorite pastime, sitting really close to him and just staring at him until he gives up trying to concentrate on whatever he’s doing to pay attention to me.


We were chilling out in the reading nook upstairs, watching Virgil finish his painting while I read out funny isolation tweets when Gordon appeared in the lounge.


“Hey everyone, it’s ready!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, waking Scott who flailed and rolled off the couch in shock.


“What’s ready?” he grumbled, rubbing his elbow where it had whacked the floor.


“The race course!”


His meaning dawned on us all at the same second and we groaned.


***


Gordon had us all assemble outside Two’s cliff hangar entrance where he’d pushed the two golf carts out and had them lined up ready.


“Girls vs boys?” Kayo and I confirmed.


“Yep, one driver, one co-pilot, drag race down the runway, sharp left hand turn down that ramp , onto the beach for an anything goes, flat out race. First one around the island via the beach wins,” Gordon announced much to my horror.


“Hang on a second,”I interrupted him. “I don’t trust you guys, we didn’t modify ours at all but we know you were all trying to ‘improve’ yours.”


Gordon and Brains looked a little shifty but it was Scott that finally admitted the truth.


“We gave up on any improvements and started again and followed the instructions.”


I bit my lip, trying not to laugh but Kayo wasn’t as generous and laughed in their faces. It took her a few minutes to calm down enough to straighten up and agree to their terms.


“You can drive,” I told her. “I’m not good with new things.” I heard John snort because he remembered having to teach me to drive my car after Brains tricked it out. Never again.


“Yeah, I wouldn’t have let you anyway,” she told me. At least we knew where we stood.


Gordon wanted to drive since it was his idea with Scott as his co-pilot since Virgil had been voted as too heavy that he might unbalance the cart. Poor chonky thing.


We suited up with helmets and elbow and knee pads, the only safety gear we needed apparently, I would have preferred a full armoured body suit but these lot are dare devils and care nothing for safety beyond the basics. I swear, I once heard Scott quote ‘protect your melon, anything else is fine’.


I sent up a prayer to anyone that might actually be dumb enough to listen that they spare me from a broken neck by idiot family and got in beside Kayo. Apparently golf carts do not come with seat belts because obviously YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO RACE THEM!


“Hold on tight,” she grinned like an idiot, clearly loving life at that moment.


“Five! Four! Three! Two! One!” Jeff counted down and then Grandma blew a whistle. We were off!


Kayo slammed her foot down on the accelerator and we shot forward at a whopping five mph, slowly climbing to ten.


We were quickly running out of runway but she showed no sign of slowing down for the turn that was coming up.


“Kay…maybe you should sl-”


“LEAN!” she yelled and I did as I was told, throwing my weight and upper body sideways with her. We lifted up on two wheels and slid onto the ramp. I screamed. Why must she terrify me like this? We had only just started! I gripped on to the frame for dear life and tried not to scream again as we rocketed down the ramp with the boys close to our bumper and clattered onto the sand.


Thankfully the sand slowled us down a little and I was able to catch my breath, hopefully not to fill my lungs so I could scream in terror again.


She had a careless way of driving, it was like she saw every bump, rock and patch of seaweed as a personal challenge, driving at them like she was in a video game and expecting me to grab coins along the way. Well I can tell you now, I wasn’t letting go until this was all over.


I heard Gordon and Scott whooping like loons , almost level beside us. I risked a glance over and they were radiating pure crazy, but in a good way, clearly enjoying themselves and having a fabulous time. Weirdos. Only this lot could enjoy terrifying near death experiences as much. What happened to quiet days at home? What happened to sanity?


“Lockdown happened,” Kayo answered. Huh, guess I said that out loud.


She screeched us around another corner, taking one hand off the handle bars to grab my arm and haul me sideways when I didn’t instinctively know to move.


“You could pay attention,” she huffed.


“I’m trying not to watch my life flashing before my eyes,” I snapped back, but that just made her laugh. That’s one thing I love about her, we can snipe at each other and get mouthy but we never take it seriously.


I did pay a little attention though, enough to see the boys hit what they thought was a sand dune and turned out to be a sand covered rock. Their cart came to a bone crunching halt and they both catapulted out.


“Wait, they might be hurt,” I yelled but she didn’t even look back.


“Losers, they’ll be fine.”


She was right, they got straight back up, hauled the cart upright and got right back in, tearing off after us. They were zooming on the wonk as it looked like one of their front wheels was buckled and pointing the wrong way but at least they were moving. Now I didnt feel so bad about the fact that we were about to kick their butts.


We rounded another curve, managing three wheels this time which was a definite improvement. She was enjoying herself far too much, laughing like a Disney villain as she flung the poor cart around like she was in a race car.


We were rocking along at a speedy 12 mph when our wheel caught on some seaweed which wrapped around it and locked it up tight. We jumped out and were still yanking it free when the boys zoomed past us, yelling out taunting insults .


Kayo snatched up the last of the weed and threw it away, already back in the cart.


“Hurry up!” she hollered and I’d barely got one buttcheek on the seat before she was off. I flailed and managed to hang on to the frame and plant myself more firmly.


We sped after them and managed to catch up, hindered as they were by their buckled wheel and were neck and neck as we curved around the last bend, bumped over another sand dune and took an unscheduled dip in the sea, the water spraying up as we noooomed along but nothing was going to stop us now!


The boys were about a foot ahead of us and trying for that last burst of speed on the home stretch, the second ramp that would take us back onto the runway was in sight. We both bumped up on to it at the same time and felt it wobble. We had two choices, freeze or go faster, apparently freezing is not in the International Rescue vocabulary as both Gordon and Kayo slammed their feet down and squeezed another 2 mph out of the struggling engines.


We got up the ramp, crashing into each other as we tried to turn at the same time. There was a scuffle where Kayo yelled at me to kick them and stupidly I did actually try, all that did was give Scott a chance to lean over, grab my foot and wiggle it while I screamed.


We got straight and untangled and I hauled myself back into the seat for what felt like the hundredth time in ten minutes as we hit the home stretch, barrelling down the runway. Our audience dived out of the way as we screeched to a halt.


“Who won?” Gordon demanded to know.


“Oh, sorry, were we supposed to be judging this?” Jeff asked. “We weren’t paying attention.”


The boys and Kayo groaned, demanding a rematch. No way was I going through all that again so I gave up my seat to Virgil, I was done with the entire thing. All I wanted was a cup of coffee and a lie down. These guys would be the death of me.

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I’m a little worried about when everyone starts returning to work or we’re allowed to really interact in person again. We’ve spent so long hunkered down in our houses and apartments alone, I feel it might take a little bit to remember how to socialize in a normal healthy way. And it’s going to be exhausting! 

Maybe this is neurodivergent me, who has spent years really perfecting how to properly socialize, worrying but I’m so scared that I’ll be around people and I’m going to be too much because I’ve forgotten how to properly interact without being too in my own head or too obsessive about things or just too intense. Like, it took years of self monitoring to get to a place where I felt I was socializing in a normal people way. What if I’ve lost that?

Going back to square one would be so hard. It would be so disappointing. All that effort, all that time making “normal people behaviours” habit and developing a better understanding of social cues will have felt like a waste. I’m so worried people won’t want to talk to me or be around me anymore.

There’s going to be a real adjustment period, I think, where I’m going to really have to remind myself that I am okay the way I am and that other people are also adjusting and dealing with their own things. It’s just going to be hard.

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Evde Kalma Rehberi 6 | Aktif Beyin

Bu bir yeni video uyarısıdır! 🎥

Yeni şeyler öğrenmeyye başlamadan önce beynimize bir zemin hazırlamak gerektiğini, onun sınırlarını genişletmek gerektiğini düşünüyorum. Bunu en güzel zeka oyunları ile yapıyoruz tabi ki 🧩 bu videoda kendi kullandığım uygulamaları anlattım. Bir de bonus olarak iki tane minik İrem anısı bulunuyor 👶🏻😂👶🏻

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Isolation update! Who was it that wanted John with a beard? Because you’re going to get all five of them…


Day 68 of isolation on Tracy Island.

“Oi,” I grumbled as something prickled my shoulder. “What the heck are you doing?

John ignored me and continued to rub his chin against my shoulder like a cat scent marking, not bothering to put down the book he was reading. I watched with mild interest for a few moments as he rolled his face all over me, his scratchy stubble rasping at my skin.

“Are you done yet?”

“No.” He started again.

“Dude, I’m not a scratching post.”

“I know,” he continued as if I hadn’t said a thing.

“And yet you’re not stopping. I’m getting stubble rash over here.”

“Oh, so now you’re complaining?” 

Scott snorted out a laugh but didn’t get involved.

“You still didn’t answer my question of why.”

“I’m itchy.” He stopped his sandpaper attack and went back to his book, although he continued to periodically rub his cheek against his own shoulder or mine as the morning wore on. 

What the heck was going on with him? Normally he hated to feel stubbly, shaving twice a day when possible to avoid it. I know that lockdown has made the whole world a little lazy but if it was bothering him, then surely it was time to pick up the slack on the grooming front?

A movement to my left caught my eye as Scott scratched absently at his neck. Huh, he was looking a little darker on the chin too. I glanced around at the others and for the first time I noticed that they were all doing the same thing. It was like watching a pack of stray dogs, all scratching at themselves like they were fighting fleas. Gordon was sporting about a centimeter of golden stubble, while Virgil had so much darkness dusting his chin and cheeks that I had no idea why I hadn’t noticed it before. I was putting it down to lockdown blindness, where you see someone every day with no break and so they just all blend in together and you don’t even really notice them any more.

“OK, something’s going on with you lot, why are you all looking like castaways?”

They all looked at each other exchanging shifty glances.

“We might be having a beard growing contest,” Virgil admitted.

“How the heck did that come about? Do you guys turn everything into a competition?”

“Pretty much,” Scott shrugged, scratching at his chin. He found his efforts to be unsatisfactory and stole my hand to do the job, since I have longer nails.

“It was my idea,” Gordon told me.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“I’ve always liked the idea of growing a beard, but none of us could because we have to have a smooth seal with our masks and beards could hinder that.”

“Seems legit,” I answered. “So I guess you’re all in the itchy stage?” Understatement of the year there, hun, your arm is currently being manhandled to provide itch relief.

They all nodded miserably, even Alan.

“Well I’m not prepared to sit around for the next however many weeks while you scratch at yourselves, more than usual that is. Or to do it for you. Have any of you even looked up anything about this?”

“It’s growing a beard, not rocket science,” Gordon drawled like he was explaining two plus two. “You just stop shaving and let it grow.”

“Oh you innocent boy, how naive you are.” I grabbed my phone and got to googling.

“The itching should stop in the next week or so and then you’ll have a few weeks of niceness before the itchy starts again. 

They all groaned, knowing that they were in for a rough time.

“It’s itchy because you’re shedding skin. You need to shampoo and moisturise,” I advised, sharing my findings.

“Ewww,” Alan made a face.

“Let me guess, none of you have moisturiser or anything remotely related to grooming that isn’t hair gel?”

They shook their heads. Virgil scratched his cheek pathetically.

“Urghh, fine I’ll share. Anything to stop you all complaining and using my body parts as a scratching post.”

I toddled off to the bedroom and came back with a selection of products that I thought might help. I had only been gone for ten minutes but in that time each of them had moved to a different spot on the couches and they were still scratching. 

Virgil was using a pencil to rub at his cheek, Gordon was using my hairbrush to scrub his chin, Scott was using the letter opener from Jeff’s desk , John was using the corner of his book and Alan…well he was just fine really but he didn’t seem to even have any growth.

I snatched my hairbrush off Gordon

“Please don’t tell me that in the few minutes I was gone you lot ended up in a competition to see who could scratch themselves in the weirdest way?” I was joking, but the fact that they never denied it leads me to believe that they might have been doing just that.

The next half hour was like an Avon party, all of them fighting over the lotions and potions I had scavenged. They were typical men, squirting out a massive handful and slapping it onto their faces and rubbing it in like they were trying to scrub carbon deposits of Two’s hull.

“Stop!” I yelled, unable to take much more of watching them abuse their own faces. I had to step in. Men just don’t know how to be delicate. “Lawd you boys need help.”

“You say that every day for one thing or another,” Virgil pointed out.

“Not my fault you’re all dumb and need a baby sitter.” If you could see them you’d know I was right, picture a bunch of toddlers who got into their mums bathroom cabinet and decided to make a cake in the sink and then smear it on themselves. Yep, that’s about it.

“There’s a process, you can’t just slap on some moisturiser and hope for the best. Someone get me a bowl of warm water and a towel.”

If you’d have asked me earlier what I thought I’d be doing today, I definitely wouldn’t have said I’d be giving these idiots facials and teaching them how to actually care for their skin. But I’ve learnt that in International Rescue no day is ever the same and you have to roll with the punches and fly by the seat of your pants. Just take every obstacle in your stride and adapt to the circumstances. Apparently the same can be said for the things that happen during lockdown.

For once in his life John wasn’t complaining that I was using him as a guinea pig as he lay with his head in my lap while I talked them through how to properly wash their faces with a sensitive foaming cleanser, how to stimulate and exfoliate the skin with a gentle silicone scrubbie (apparently nails on an itchy chin are purr inducingly good) and how to rub in moisturiser with gentle circular strokes rather than trying to scrub off their eyebrows.

They all managed to complete their facials with a reasonable degree of competence. They did need some help and additional instruction, although I’m fairly convinced they just wanted to be pampered too, and for the rest of the morning they were itch free and a lot happier. I’ve got a feeling that the next week or so is going to be an absolute nightmare. That and I’m not going to have anything left in the bathroom cabinet by the end of this little competition of theirs. They owe me.

I made them all sit together and took some pictures for the family album, that and as progress shots. This is going to be something we’ll definitely want to look back on. 

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Isolation update! Big thanks to @hodgehegposts for the prompt and fun chats.

Day 67 of Isolation on Tracy Island and today I learnt that the Tracy’s and I have totally different ideas of how to protect ourselves.

Some of us were watching a movie and some of us, namely Kayo, were attacking everyone stupid enough to go near enough. 

“Arghhh,” Gordon screamed as he flew backwards and landed on his butt with a bone rattling bump.

“Who’s next?” she asked, beckoning us forward.

Alan rubbed his butt in remembered pain and shook his head.

Kayo looked at Scott.

“Nope, I’m secure enough in my masculinity to know that it’s not a good idea to go up against you.”

“John?” 

“Erm, let me think…no.”

Virgil was on the upper level, headphones on, totally in the zone while he painted and we all knew that nothing would get him to move bar an emergency call and that wasn’t likely to happen any time soon.

She looked at me.

“Nope, don’t even think about it. I don’t know anything about your fancy moves, I’m no karate kid.”

“You don’t know any self defence at all?” Scott asked.

I shrugged. “Well, I know enough to protect myself in a packed bar, does that count?”

Apparently it didn’t, because less than ten minutes later I had been wrestled into my workout gear and was standing on the mats in the gym.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” John muttered to Scott.

“Nonsense, she needs to learn, it’s important she can defend herself if the need arises. Do you want her getting hurt because she doesn’t know how to take down an assailant?”

“Of course not, but it’s her.”

“True.”

“I can hear you both, you know!”

“Busted,” Scott whispered to John, who sighed, knowing he was very likely to get yelled at for that later. And he would be right.

“Don’t listen to them, don’t let them put you off, you can do this,” Kayo encouraged me. “You can’t be that bad, you must know something. You said you could defend yourself in a packed bar, so lets start there, show me your moves.”

“I don’t really have a set of moves, I kinda just make it up on the fly,” I admitted, ignoring Scott’s snort of amusement and John’s groan of disbelief.

“We can work with that, on the fly is what we do best. Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“Attack her, grab her from behind.”

“I dont think so.”

“John, you do it then.”

“I value certain parts of my anatomy.”

“Gordon?”

“Sure, I’ll do it, what’s the worst that could happen?”

John actually laughed at that, he knew never to annoy me.

“No, I don’t want to hurt anyone,” I said, backing away.

“You couldnt hurt me, don’t worry. I’m just gonna grab you and all you have to do is break my hold.”

“You sure?” I asked. “I fight dirty.”

“So do bad guys,” Kayo laughed.

“I can take it,” Gordon assured me.

“OK,” I shrugged and turned around for him to grab me.

“Just do what you would do in a crowded bar and someone grabbed you,” Scott instructed.

I nodded.

Gordon waited a few seconds and then grabbed me, one arm around my chest, another around my waist.

I didn’t bother struggling, I leant closer.

“Hey, Sailor, oh, you’re strong. Are you single? Because I’ve got four kids at home that desperately need a daddy. You don’t have a fear of commitment do you? Because I feel like we could have something really special, you know? Do you feel it too? This special thing between us? Wanna get marrie-”

“I’m out!” Gordon dropped me like I was a hot potato.

I turned around, waiting for my praise.

Scott cracked up laughing, almost falling over, only his grip on John’s shoulder keeping him upright? 

“That’s what you do in a bar?” John asked in utter disbelief. “You’re never going out alone again.”

“What if your attacker isn’t some creep in a bar, what if he’s following you home and jumps you in an alleyway?” Alan asked.

“Why would I be in an alleyway?”

“He could grab you and drag you in,” Scott answered, finally gaining control of himself and managing to stand on his own.

“Who’d want me?” I argued. “I’d open my mouth and he’d run away in fear.”

“Truth,” Gordon muttered.

“Grab her again,” Kayo ordered.

“Do I have to?”

“I’ll do it,” Scott sighed, stepping up to the bat.

“So no words, just fight? Anything goes?”

“Yep, fight like your life depends on it,” Kayo instructed.

“Sorry,” I told Scott in preparation for kicking his butt.

“Don’t be,” he scoffed. “Do your worst.”

I started walking.

“Oh, look at me, an innocent-” 

John snorted. I ignored him.

“-unarmed girl, all alone on this dark, dark street. It would be so terrible if someone was to grab me right about now…”

Scott struck, looping his arm around my neck and another around my waist. 

I went limp and he fumbled to catch me, seizing the opportunity I lifted my foot and stamped down on his toes.

“Oww, dammit!” 

Not giving a second I slammed my elbow into his stomach and jumped, smacking the top of my head into his chin. When he let go to grab his chin I spun round and went for his chest, grabbing and twisting.

“She went for the nipple cripple!” Alan screamed in delight as Scott screamed in pain.

I let go and dragged him into a hug. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, you told me to fight!”

Scott accepted the hug, still whimpering pathetically.

“I said I was sorry, you know I love you!” I stroked his head getting a handful of gel which I sneakily wiped on his shirt when I patted his back.

“At least she kept it above waist height,” John commented.

“Well, that was…” Kayo started.

I waited. 

“Unorthodox and creative, but a woman wouldn’t fight like that. Care to take me on?”

“Sure,” I shrugged. Nothing like taking down the big bro to give you a little confidence..

“Show me how you’d take on a female attacker.”

“Give me a second!” I stuck my hand in John’s pocket and retrieved the hairband I kept there for emergencies and tied my hair back.

“OK, I’m ready. Come at me!”

Kayo launched at me and I was immediately on the defensive. I head back, hands up, nails like claws.

“What are you doing?” Gordon asked.

“Cat fight, baby!”

“Cat fight?” Alan whispered to John who shrugged.

“Your hair looks awful today and those pants make your butt look huge!” I yelled at her.

“What?” she paused before aiming a punch my way but I screamed in her face and ducked, making her jump.

“Those boots give you cankles!” I kicked her in the shin and she yelped, hopping on one foot for a second, rubbing her leg.

I scrambled to my feet and grabbed her by the ponytail, yanking hard.

“Get off!” she yelled trying to spin out of my grip.

I let go and literally kicked her butt. I never go for the back, go for the butt, they never expect it. The sole of my foot hit her square on the cheeks and she stumbled in shock. That was my cue. I leapt on her back, screaming my best Xena impression, throwing all my weight on her, riding her down to the floor. I wound her hair around my fist and leaning all my weight on her shoulders, I pinned her down.

“That is not how bad guys fight!” she yelled, squirming.

“No, it’s how London girls fight. I take it you’ve never been in a drunken cat fight with someone who thinks you stole her lipstick? You’re just lucky I didn’t unleash my claws and go for the eyes, or smash your face into the floor.”

I got up off her back and helped her up.

“That was dirty,” she scowled at me. “I do not have cankles.”

“I did warn you all.”

“What are cankles?” John asked Alan, who shrugged.

“You don’t have a big butt either,” I promised her. “I was just trash talking.”

“Can you girls do that again?” Gordon asked, grinning at us. “Maybe have a pillow fight too?”

Kayo and I didnt dignify that with an answer.

“I think it’s time we teach you some basics,” John insisted.

“You still don’t believe I can take care of myself?” I huffed, folding my arms.

“Oh we know you can, but just in case you aren’t attacking drunk people-”

“Hey! They always attack me first!”

“You still need to learn some real self defense,” Scott finished for him.

“Real self defence? How are your moobs, my man?”

“Oww, you’re mean when you fight,” Gordon accused.

“I…I do not have moobs!” he turned away, anxiously smoothing his hand over his pecs, just to be sure.

“Yeah, OK supermodel, you’re out of here,” Kayo ordered. “You guys too. We’re gonna start running through some basics. So, unless you want to be the attacker again, I suggest you get going.”

They got gone.

It was easier without them there and Kayo is actually a really good teacher. One day I might even be able to fight off a bad guy without resorting to a crotch shot. A girl can dream.

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