Tuesday, February 28, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #72

Don't wait for the world to deliver your dreams - ask for pickup when you order. It's cheaper that way. Also, extra olives.

Henry Nicks Time

Suddenly I am three minutes in the past. My head is spinning as though I have just experienced my own gruesome death. There is no time to lose. Only I can save me now.

I hurry outside with all the speed of my superpowered muscles. On the street I notice several pedestrians, and a few parked cars. I examine the scene very carefully, as only a highly trained superheroic observer can, and soon begin to suspect that perhaps something is amiss.

Yes, just over there behind that giant robotic tank-like monster, that damn kitten has gotten itself stuck in the tree again... but wait! Perhaps the giant robotic tank-like monster is also of some small significance. Now that I think about it, the way its massive gun is targeting my house is particularly suspicious.

"Halt, Fiend!!" I roar in my mighty voice, while at the same time furiously preparing my rocket launchers, which have finally been perfected - of this I am almost fifteen percent certain - such that I am probably going to survive their discharge. For I have rather cleverly mounted a launcher on each hip, so that the plasma of their exhaust will be ejected behind me, rather than directly into myself. Unfortunately the time I have spent describing this to you has allowed the monstrous mechanoid to bring its small calibre weapons to bear on me. Thanks for nothing.

I dive for cover behind the nearest vehicle, which is immediately riddled with small-arms fire. "Ha, fiend!" I call defiantly, while at the same time thinking that perhaps inventing some new heroic lines would be a good idea. I leap from cover, sprint, roll, and come up perfectly positioned to launch a volley of deadly missiles directly into the beast's steely underbelly. There is a massive explosion as the rockets find their target. I stand heroically admiring my handiwork while the smoke clears. My enemies, whoever they are, will need to do better than...

But the mechanoid is undamaged, its main gun finally aimed directly at my house, small calibre weapons preparing to cut me to pieces, robotic brain no doubt concocting some fiendish taunt to hurl at my lifeless body as it is cut to shreds by a hail of hot lead.

I search my amazing brain for the correct response. Ah, there it is. "Bugger."

Monday, February 27, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #71

"That goes without saying" almost always goes without saying.

The Wisdom of Henry #70

How to tell if your computer is broken:

This method works every time. First, find a very tall building. Throw your PC from the top of the building, and observe the result. If the computer appears to remain intact, then it was indeed broken. If, however, it shatters into a million pieces then you have proof positive that it was in perfect working order.

This is a secret method previously known only to true computer gurus, such as myself, and the witchfinder general.

Now, and this is the most important bit, you must immediately click here:
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Henry's TODO List

My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero.

Strangely enough it seems as though the universe is not about to end. I suppose therefore I must turn to slightly less pressing problems. Believe it or not there are one or two issues I have left unresolved due to the inevitable armageddon that has suddenly become somewhat evitable.

So, here, in mostly chronological order, are the unresolved issues of Henry:

  1. Who is Doctor Death (aka "Jack") and what of his insidious plot?
  2. Whatever happened to this kitten?
  3. Miss Stanley (links too numerous to mention).
  4. Was it a dream, or something else?
  5. Who is/was the old guy anyway?
  6. What about those guys in that other weird place?
  7. Where did that damn truth get to?
  8. Ted the Competent.
  9. What is that Blogexplosion crap all about anyway?
  10. Oh, yeah, and there's the whole thing in the post previous to this one where the rhyme lord and I die in a massive explosion. As far as dealing with unresolved issues goes this one might actually be a pretty good place to start.

Sunday, February 26, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #69

I met a stranger on the road. He said, "Perhaps we should get off the road?"

I said, "Yes, that is a damn big truck!" So we got off the road.

The End.

Henry Works It Out

"So," I think I have worked it out now, for sure, "What you're saying is you made me?"

"Apparently," agrees the rhyme lord, as though his plan is to tell me precisely what I do not wish to hear. Maybe if I try it again, but use some slightly different words, I will get a different answer.

"Right, then, this means that what I am today is all because of you?"


"And I have had these superpowers for most of my life because of that thing you did the other day with your rhyme powered time ship?" Because I am a superhero, with a tremendously powerful brain, it requires mere microseconds for me to work out precisely what is going on.

"That's right."

"Also at some point my brain is going to explode, which will most likely result in my death?"

"Um, yes, essentially, although, you know, not so much explode - more a kind of cascading neural failure."

"But the result would probably be the same?"

"Pretty much."

"So..." I can feel the amazing organic circuitry in my head ticking over like some delicious custard that is really good at thinking, "I don't get it."


"And, anyway, how do you explain my sister?"

"You have a sister?"

But enough of this foolishness. "You are wrong, rhyme lord! No mere mortal such as yourself is capable of tampering with the primal forces of Henryness!" I am about to explain to him the real origins of Henry when he suddenly vanishes in a puff of non-existence-ness. Or, more accurately, I am about to explain to him the real origins of Henry when I accidentally skip forward fifty-seven minutes. I have not yet mastered this new power, but I am learning to instantly recognize the extent and direction of the time displacement effect.

"Ah, you're back." He is in the doorway now.

"Silence fool!" I command commandingly, for I have just detected the merest hint of a massive erruption of concrete, steel, and glass, which may or may not be the result of the fact that my house has just exploded spectacularly, killing us both very dead.

Saturday, February 25, 2006

Henry in Training


I focus the limitless powers of my brilliant brain on the problem at hand, causing all those layers of complexity to just melt away like ice cream before a flamethrower. "Why don't we break for ice cream?"

The rhyme lord sighs. "I am concerned that the twenty-first century nervous system may not be as advanced as I had thought. Of course, you understand what that could mean..."

"Yes, Ice cream it is then."

"The time displacements could cause strong bio-chemical and psycho-electrical reactions in your body, not to mention intense pyschic phenomena, agression, insanity, megalomnia, and eventually death by complete neural failure."

"Bio what?"

"Bio-chemical and pyscho-electric. Often manifested as superhuman speed, strength, enhanced senses, delusions of great personal importance, and since the whole thing begins with serious temporal ruptures in your beingness, symptoms could arrive well in advance of the events that cause them, sometimes years..." He stops speaking suddenly as though he has just come to some kind of realization about the fundamental nature of reality, or at least the fundamental nature of me.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"What kind of powers do you have?"

"I have superhuman strength, speed, and enhanced senses, plus the most brilliant mind in all of humankind." Does this fool still think I am a mere human? Can he not see the power of Henry with his own eyes?

"I see..."


"Um... nothing. So... how's your brain feeling?"

Friday, February 24, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #68

The joys of procrastination. Coming soon. Soonish.

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Clickety Click.

Henry Out of Time

My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero.

Tonight I roam the streets looking for supervillains. But wait, it is suddenly morning. A guy walks straight into me.

"Jeez, sorry man," he says, "It's like you came out of nowhere, man!" He is gesticulating enthusiastically, a wild look of wildness in his eyes as though he is on drugs, or a scientologist. "You wanna do a personality test, man?"

My flamethrower roars its delightful melody, leaving barely a stain on the footpath. I am hungry. By some strange coincidence there is a pizza shop just across the road. I order a Super-Large Super-Duper Value Pizza, mostly because of the name. And the cheese.

Soon I am seated at a table in the corner, lifting the delicious cheesy pizzaness to my mouth, like a man who is really really hungry for pizza. Then I notice that aside from the slice I am holding my lunch appears to have disappeared. I am about to get up when suddenly there is another pizza, complete with a couple of rough looking chaps who are abruptly sitting at my table, and looking at me strangely - as though I have just materialized out of nowhere and seem to be stealing some of their dinner. Also, it is dark outside, again.

One of the men takes a swing at me, but before I have time to punish this no doubt evil person with my extreme superness he vanishes, along with everybody else in the shop. The lights are off, the doors locked. This time-shifting thing may have been slightly amusing to begin with, but now it is getting very serious. If I don't get some delicious cheesy comestibles soon I am going to incinerate that damn rhyme lord.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #67

It is better to be a small fish in a big pond than a big fish on the barbeque.

Why are you here?

The following are much funnier/more interesting than I.

  • Ctrl+alt+del - This is really funny, not henry-the-adequate-funny, which should be a word in the dictionary, and the definition would be something like "***yawn*** thanks for coming."
  • Atland - This is really funny, not henry-the-adequate-funny, which.... but you know the rest. Also there are drawings of semi-naked women, which is a plus, although it is only updated weekly, which is a minus.
  • Humorix - Linux humour done good. Updated whenever.
  • The BOFH - The original sysadmin devilgod. You should read that instead of this.
  • The Mogambo Guru - who can be read weekly on The Daily Reckoning, and probably other places. Just google. I'm too lazy to do it for you. The Mogambo is funny and probably insightful - I can't tell - and gives really scary financial advice.
  • Concerned - This is really clever. This guy wrote a mod for some computer game thing which allowed him to control stuff, then used screenshots to write a comic, and there's explanations of how he did each strip and stuff. It is also funny and quite brilliant.
  • ShoweringNaked - Writes better than I ever will. I am but a worm not fit to lick her spittle. Do worms lick spittle? Do worms have tongues? ShoweringNaked would never use such a crappy metaphor.
  • Useless Advice from Useless Men - Thanks to the useless man for this one. Clearly superior in all ways, and helpful too.
  • Heinlein's Rules - Ok, so this is a link to a single article. The complaints department is right over there by the sign that says "All complaints will be treated equally - there is plenty of lighter fluid to go around". Simple, brilliant, and to the point. I was always good at number three. No matter how crappy my stuff was/is.
  • Terry Bisson - Some really neat short stories from this guy. I don't know, he's just some guy. Maybe you've heard of him. I hadn't. Definitely worth reading especially if you like good stories. If you like crap stories then I highly recommend David Eddings. I read the whole of the Belgariad - man that was awful.
  • Blog of Helios - Helios writes real good. And he knows a lot of stuff about Linux, even if he doesn't use Debian. Also he ends each post with "All-Righty Then", which is very classy.
  • Fawlty Towers - Just go and watch some reruns. No matter how many times you see them they will still be funnier than Henry the Adequate. Also, The Blackadder, Coupling, Mr Bean (no not the hidious movie), anything by Monty Python. Also, listen to the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy radio plays, read the books, play "Starship Titanic".
  • The Bees Knees, Miss Ann Thrope, IT2M - see links over in the sidebar there.
  • The Dead Guy - A real cartoon, with drawings and stuff, but on blogger. Political, if you're into that kind of thing, which I'm not. What the hell is this one doing on my list?
  • My brand new weblog - as yet unnamed. I have discovered what people really want. Here's a sneak preview: "Feb 22 - Went to supermarket. I am so fucking interesting." See, much better than actual content. Update: Here it is.
If you'd like to suggest some more sites that are much better than Henry, I will be happy to add them here.

Henry did not write this.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #66

The journey is more important than the destination, unless you're on your way to the pub.

Rebuilding Henry

My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero.

"So, what is it you're doing again?" I have some other questions, such as "How did I get here?", "Why are you still around anyway?" and "Why do they use those hideously ineffectual little square plastic things to seal bread?", but these questions don't seem quite as important right now, except possibly the one about the bread.

"I am connecting the rhyme machine to your central nervous system and also filtering your blood through its temporal correction circuitry," explains the rhyme lord carefully, as though he is speaking to a complete moron. This does not sound like a good idea.

"This does not sound like a good idea," I protest, as though I think that perhaps this does not sound like a very good idea. Then I notice the rhyme lord appearing to vanish, then reappear on the other side of the room. "What the... and why is it dark outside?"

"You're going to experience some minor temporal displacements."

"I see." Now I understand completely, because of my incredible brain. ".. and why is it dark outside?"

"You have jumped forward a little over four hours," explains the rhyme lord carefully.

"And why is that?"

"It is because you are going to experience some minor temporal displacements."

"Right..." I have a distinct feeling that this is leading someplace unpleasant, but cannot quite put a finger on it.

"In time you may learn to control them," says the rhyme lord, Doctor What, as though it is a very ordinary thing to say. I do not think it is very ordinary.

"What do you mean 'in time'? It's going to stop, right?"

"Um... Think of it as a new superpower."

Right now I am thinking about my flamethrower, for some reason, and wondering if rhyme lords are very flammable.

"Take a look in the mirror." He is offering me a mirror.

"Do not mock me, Doctor What, for though I might appear hideously deformed I still have powers enough..." Actually, come to think of it, I am currently noticing a lack of pain, an apparently normal sense of touch, and an amazing absense of charredness to my flesh. I look in the mirror. "Oh... well... I could have done that."

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #65

I met a stranger on the road. He said, "Are we all doomed to repeat the same mistakes?"

I said, "No." He seemed happy with that.

Henry Released

My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero.

I have been released from the hospital, the charred remains of which will no doubt be rebuilt in no time. Actually I believe that particular hospital was scheduled to be knocked down anyway, in about fifty years. There is not a cage can hold me, no matter whether you call it a prison, or a cage, or a "burns unit", whatever that is.

"Mummy, why does that man have no face?"

"Quiet! Keep walking."

I may have no face, but I am no faceless stranger! Well, I may be slightly faceless, currently, but I am Henry the Adequate, superhero, and using my brilliant powers of regeneration I will soon be the faceful stranger. In the meantime it does hurt a bit. A lot.

But that is of no concern to me right now, for my first duty is to the people of this fine town, this world, this universe. I cannot rest in hospital like some whimpy almost-fatally-wounded burns victim while the forces of evil march forth accross the land, spreading their foul stench about like so many really dirty nappies.

I notice that I am lying down, a bit.

"Man, are you alright?"

No, not really. "Absolutely!" I reassure, like the superhero that I am.

"Ok then."

Monday, February 20, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #64

Nobody is fat on the internet.

To lose weight now, click here:
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Henry Dreams

My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero, or possibly a rock lobster.

Timothy the reggae squid cruises on down to my octopus's's garden and says, in his reggae voice "Man, you've been watching too many crappy american movies."

I realize that this is true because suddenly I am in the happy-feel-good scene at the end of the movie, in which the teenage daughter learns a valuable lesson about life, and the parents learn to chill out, and we get the inevitable message about family and community and blah blah blah. I am uncertain why I play the teenage daughter in this scene. I reach for my flamethrower in a desperate attempt to end it all, but cannot move my arms.

"Foolish human! Did you think you could defeat us so easily?" I struggle against the chains that bind me, but it is no good - The Robot League of Chaos have me right where they want me, and there is no hope of escape. The shiny Robotic creature approaches a little closer, menacingly - like a particularly ferocious honey badger.

"Ha!" I argue eloquently, making my point very cleverly, I think. My breasts heave with furious emotion as I prepare for the inevitable. I am uncertain why I still have breasts, since this is no longer the happy-feel-good scene, and I am no longer the daughter. "So," I say to myself, turning my powers of suavitude to maximum, "you come here often?"

But there is no time for that. If I do not eat five more packets of gummy bears before the time runs out my sorority will lose the wager, and we will all have to run naked through the square on Monday. Damn those evil gummi bears. Damn them!

Of course if I lose that means I'll get to see my breasts...

Sunday, February 19, 2006

Henry in Recovery

"Henry," a lilting voice sings to me through the pain and darkness, "My name is nurse Feelgood. You're in hospital."

"Henry!" I hear June's voice also.

"Nurse what?"

"Nurse Feelgood."

I laugh. It hurts. I laugh some more. It hurts some more.

"Yes, um..."

I laugh some more. The excruciating pain continues to intensify with each chuckle.

"Must be the drugs," remarks June, with an embarassed cough.

"We haven't given him any drugs yet."


The Wisdom of Henry #63

Live each day as if it is your last, because I have xray-vision, and, um... can I borrow ten bucks until Tuesday?

The Great Battles of Henry #3

I am in some kind of arena, a pit, and above a crowd is baying for blood. Well not baying, exactly - more studiously examining myself and my opponent. But I can feel them baying internally their infernal blood lust.

I slam my weapon against the wall of the pit, to test its strength. The weapon shatters into several pieces, confirming my suspicion that computers do not make very good weapons. Soon another laptop is brought forth, so that the battle may finally begin. I swing the device about my head in preparation for hurling it at him with all of my superheroic strength.

But wait, what is this? Instead of preparing for battle he sits and begins typing furiously into his own computer. I am beginning to suspect that I may be missing some information of some kind, such as the rules of this contest. I open the laptop. Soon the display comes on. There is one of those rectangular things that look like windows - I forget what they are called. In it there appears to be a place for me to type stuff, below which is a button labelled "Publish Post".

I type "Die evil minion of chaos!", then click on "Publish Post". A murmor of disapproval. I notice now that there are fifteen judges at one end of the arena. Three of them appear to be giving me a thumbs-down sign, and my opponent a thumbs-up. Damn. I type "You cannot defeat me, foul creature of the night, for I am Henry the Adequate, superhero!"

I have one vote. My opponent now has eleven. Bugger. Damn. It appears I cannot win, and once three more votes have been cast I will have to face whatever doom these evil slave masters have in store for me. But no, this cannot be - for I am Henry the Adequate, and no doubt they do not count on my magnificent intellect, or my superheroic powers of psychic control!

The flamethrower embedded in my forearm roars to life, reducing my opponent, his computer, and approximately eleven of the judges to steaming piles of ash. The remaining judges hastily register their votes in my favour, the terror evident in their eyes.

The crowd roars. Victory is mine.

This epic contest of brainpower brought to you by the Battle of the Blogs.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #62

Play hard, live fast, ...

I forget the rest, but it might have had something to do with spaghetti.

Clicking this thingy here could also be helpful, to me at least:
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Testing Henry

I stagger into the street amid a hail of beer bottles. Apparently kicking the shit out of a quadraplegic does not go down well with the punters - not even in The Seediest Bar in Seedsville. I am uncertain why.

But what was that? I wipe the blood from my eyes and attempt to peer into the distance. I am certain something very honey-badger-like just darted behind an industrial bin. Either that or a cat. Possibly a herd of rampaging elephants. At this point there may be several possible explanations that could possibly explain what I think I may have seen.

I approach cautiously, priming my brand new hyper-powered miniature rocket launcher with the patented and extremely clever airbag system in place of the blast shield. No doubt the government will soon be knocking down my door and begging me to sell them several million of these. But that is of little concern at this moment. Right now my mind is focused solely on the hunt, for my ultra-super senses are screaming their warning of impending proximity, and I am certain that battle will soon be joined. Well, mostly certain. I have a fairly clear idea of what is about to happen.

Yes, there is the evil honey badger, standing there all shiny and silvery and massive on its pillar-like hind legs, nasty looking weapons projecting from its powerful metallic arms. Actually there is a slight possibility that this may not, in fact, be the honey badger. This possibility is supported somewhat by what happens next.

"Bow down before me, pathetic Human!" snarls the now-almost-certainly-not-a honey badger, in its powerful robotic voice. The arms are currently swinging those vicious looking weapons in my direction.

"Never, fiend!" Like a finely tuned and brilliantly conceived killing machine my rocket launcher discharges, preceded at exactly the right instant by the jury-rigged airbag protection device, sending several mind-blowingly powerful yet super-miniaturized rockets screaming with all the speed and force of a super fast and extremely forceful rocket directly to the target. A massive explosion rocks the area, and I thing there may be pieces of either honey badger or robotic killing machine raining down about me. Whichever. Somehow I am finding it hard to concentrate on this extremely important detail. Perhaps it is the shock of the explosion. Or perhaps it is the fact that I seem to have shrink-wrapped myself.

I struggle in vain against the airbag, which appears to have been melted onto my body by the powerful exhaust of the rockets. I cannot breathe. Every inch of me experiences the agony of white hot firey stuff. I think that possibly the rocket launcher may still need a little work.

Then I think nothing at all.

Friday, February 17, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #61

A fool and his money are soon incinerated, although sometimes it is possible to save the money.

Henry Finding Trouble

"My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero. Would you like to see my rocket launcher?"

**SLAP** Apparently not.

"Would you like to see my rocket launcher?"

**PUNCH** Wow that guy is strong.

I am suddenly feeling quite sober, for some reason - not that I was drunk before. Oh, no, it will take much more than mere alcohol to affect Henry the Adequate, superhero. And, anyway, I am here on a mission, and will not be distracted from it. Hey, what was that.

"That?" slurrs some guy at the bar, "I think it was a honey badger."

"By all the gods it looks evil!"

"Oh, yes, they are quite ferocious," remarks the drunk, sounding not much like a drunk person after all. A quick chemical analysis using my super-powers of ultra-xray vision confirms that he is drinking water. This is extremely suspicious, particularly in The Seediest Bar in Seedsville. "They're very fond of honey though, so you will often find them around bees."

Bees! My head is suddenly spinning as though I have just been reminded of a particularly traumatic experience. (1,2,3) I am uncertain what that might be, but it matters not. Using my full powers of willpowerness I bring under control the abrupt sensations of doom, despair, and sexual ecstacy that have inexplicably swamped me, and drag my attention kicking and screaming back to the problem at hand.

It seems the problem at hand has vanished. Then I notice some people in the corner kicking and screaming at some kind of problem down about there feet. This must be the nasty fiend now. I approach cautiously, by which I mean that I stride purposefully into the center of the group and announce my presence by kicking at whatever it is they have been kicking at.

"Uh, sorry man," I back away diplomatically. The people I have previously sumised as kicking and screaming do stare at me in horror and a slight amount of furious agressiveness, as though they may have, in fact, been dancing and laughing. There is a slight possibility that the person I have just been kicking to a bloody pulp could in fact be a friend of theirs who has slipped over in a pool of beer, and not an evil honey badger hell bent on carnage of some kind. It is a mistake anybody could have made. "So, anyone wanna see my rocket launcher?"

Thursday, February 16, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #60

Apparently salt is an important facilitator of skepticism.

Oh, did I mention that I'd like you to click here, please:
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Henry Looking for Trouble

My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero.

Today I am field testing some modifications to my rocket-launcher. Fitting a proper blast shield turned out to be impractical on account of the size and weight of such devices. Instead I have managed to retrofit an airbag that I found just lying around in some guy's car. Perfect. And no doubt I will soon find an evil supervillain to try it out on.

Ah ha! There is an evil denizen of the night. I release the safety, prime the launcher, and sight on the foul creature so quickly that it barely has time to cross the street and wander slowly into a parking lot. But no, it is just a cat. Damn.

Ah ha! Now I have really found an evil minion of chaos! But no, it is just a dog.

Ah ha! Plastic bag.

Ah ha! Tree.

But wait! What could that be in the tree?! Oh, just a bird.

I think that I may have spotted some kind of evil harpie, or possibly a herd of rampaging cyber-elephants, a short way down the road, behind the gang of guys in ski masks with shotguns, but it turns out to be just a kid on a bike.

I move on, determined to find a suitable foe, no matter where the path takes me, or how long I must search these lonely streets. As it turns out the path takes me to The Seediest Bar in Seedsville. I do not want to go in and have, say, one or two drinks, but no doubt some kind of super-sixth-sense has brought me to this place, so venture forth I must. I have several drinks.


"You wanna see my rocket launcher?"


"You wanna see my rocket laucher?"

"Sure, baby."

I show her my rocket launcher. **SLAP**

People are weird.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #59

Beware of geeks baring breasts.

Henry's Next Day Off

My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero.

Since I have just saved the universe it seems a day off might be in order. Perhaps I should go to the cricket, except we all know how that worked out last time.

Instead I am at the beach. It is windy, and raining, and I think somebody just stole my wallet. In other words, it has been a fairly typical day off so far. Now all I need is for some kind of nasty supervillain, or perhaps a monstrous demonic creature from hell, to rudely interrupt by trying to kill me or something.

Suddently there is a noise, as of a thousand wailing banshees. Damn, that guy needs to get his brakes fixed. But no, as it turns out there are a thousand wailing banshee-like creatures with nasty claws and enormous fangs approaching my position like a car with noisy brakes. I leap into action, such that my actionlessness vanishes immediately and is replaced by a full complement of actionfulness, which is almost precisely what I need at this point, so that's a bit of a bonus.

My flamethrower roars its firey death music, and several of the leading banshees are engulfed and incinerated like the evil chaos-monsters that they are. Some trees are also engulfed and incinerated, like the evil chaos monsters that they are not. This causes the other banshees to pause for a moment, and I need no more than this minor hesitation, for my reflexes are fast beyond the ken of mere mortals such as yourselves. There is a joke about a guy called Ken in there somewhere, but I have no time for such things. Indeed, death is nipping at my heels like some kind of giant crab that doesn't like me very much.

In the momentary stunned pause that ensues I activate the brand new rocket launcher I have recently installed in my shorts, and a miniature rocket-powered missile speeds to the target, the flames from its exhaust licking briefly about my nether regions in the process. For some reason this causes tentrils of excruciating pain to dance about my entire nervous system. Perhaps some form of blast shield is called for.

The missile explodes on the foreshore, scattering pieces of banshee over a wide area. Also pieces of several cars, a phone box, a beach-side cottage, and a slime encrusted hamster that just happened to be in the line of fire.

The remaining demons flee like the cowardly cowards that they are. "Yay," I cheer with less enthusiasm than someone with very little enthusiasm. I notice that I am lying down, and that there is much pain, and that there is a torrential rain battering my badly charred bits with raindrops the size of elephants. Ok, maybe not elephants.

It is good to have a day off.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Virus Hunter Henry

My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a virus hunting superhero.

clickety click click. click click clickety.

clickclickclickclick clickety click clicky. click. click. double-click.

Ah, ha! I nailed that nasty virus thingy! No semi-random sequence of ones and noughts can stand against the might of my magnificent brain, for I am Henry the Adequate, superhero, expert computer guy, and all round neato mcgeato! Yes, those virus-writing supervillains did not reckon on the brilliant hacking skills of Henry the Adequate! Nor did they count on my stunningly clever use of excessive quantities of exclamation points!! "There, that should do it," I announce grandly.

"Thank you, Mister Hero. What's this message?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. Just hit the reset button, like this." I restart the computer.

"So how much do I owe you?" I can see that the computer-owning-person, who will for the moment remain descriptionless on account of me being lazy, is really really grateful for all my help.

"Oh, no, I don't work here - was just passing by and thought you looked like you could use some assistance," I explain reassuringly. The descriptionless one looks a bit uncertain at this point. "But I must be off now, for evil is afoot." I head for the computer store exit, to continue my tireless patrolling where I am needed most - out on the streets of this city, where the nasty and the ruthless prey on the innocent and the ruthful, and old ladies are not safe to cross the street without heroic intervention.

"Hey, what does Operating System Not Found mean?" But I am too busy to respond, for badness does not sleep, and neither does Henry the Adequate, superhero.

Well, sometimes I sleep.

The Wisdom of Henry #58

Every time you look in the mirror remind yourself that you are a good person. Well, unless you happen to be an evil terrorist supervillain, or a record company executive, in which case you should probably avoid mirrors.

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The Wisdom of Henry #57

Beware of greeks bearing shotguns.

Henry and the Awkward Phone Call

"Hello, this is Henry the Adequate, superhero!"

"Henry, this is Ted."


"Ted the Competent."

"Right. Hi Ted. How's things?"

"Not so good. I've been arrested. Can you bring five hundred for bail?"


Monday, February 13, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #56

Sometimes nonsense is the only sense there is.

And sometimes when you make up stuff that is logically impossible it sounds all deep and meaningful. Not this time, obviously, but sometimes.

The Wisdom of Henry #55

Yes, your bum does look big in that.

This snippet of wisdom inspired by (ok stolen from) Avatar Briefs.

Henry and the Rhyme Lord - part 19

My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero.

"As I see it there are two possibilities." The rhyme lord is explaining to me the results of his research into the strange alien computer.

"Two. Fascinating."

"The first possibility is that this is a device so advanced that it can influence the reality-stream, causing quantum fluctuations in the time-space vortex."

"Um... Great!" My superheroic brain sprints into action, like an olympic sprinter springing into, um, sprinting action. Soon I will have a thorough analysis of this information. "So, fluctuations then," I enquire intelligently and with only a smallish quantity of lameness.

"In the time-space vortex, yes."

I always wanted to have a vortex doll, when I was a kid. Or was that Voltron? "But we can get another time-space voltron, right?"

"No." The doctor gives me a strange look, then continues. "The second possibility - the one that I favour - is that this reality exists as a program in a computer so advanced it is capable of modelling, well, all of this!" I look about. Yes, my home is pretty complex. "No, I mean the entire universe," he explains, using some kind of special mind reading powers.

I shrug. That doesn't sound so difficult or strange. No doubt I could whip up such a program myself, should I choose to.

"Furthermore I believe that this computer here," he pauses to indicate the the alien device, "is in fact the computer in which our reality exists."

"What, this old thing?" I give it a kick, in order to illustrate my superiority over the piece of alien technology. A shuddering, wobbling mass of twisted reality moves through the room at this moment, as though to illustrate the concept that kicking the computer might not be such a good idea.

"I've been thinking about it, and, as far as I can tell, there is no way this reality can deconceptualize as long as it contains its own container. Of course, I would also have said that it is impossible for this reality to contain its own container, so..." He shrugs a shrug loaded with meaning, and stuff.

"Yes, no doubt about it. The deconceptatrons cannot get us now." I wipe some more blood off my ear. Damn cats.

"What I'm trying to say, Henry, is that I believe you may have saved the universe."

"Cool." That is a relief. I thought he was going to tell me I had broken it again.

Sunday, February 12, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #54

We live in a world of constant change. Technology is changing. Relationships are changing. Last month I changed my underwear, and may do so again.

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Henry, the Cat Whisperer

My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero. A new kind a superhero. A gentler, more caring superhero.

Because, well apparently there might have been one or two complaints and polite requests for ceasing and desisting from the police, and the mayor. Also a couple of civil rights groups, the RSPCA, the fire department, somebody called Pauline, and my mum.

So, I patrol the streets, politely and with much consideration for the needs and feelings of pedestrians and passing motorists. I spot a young lady in need of servicing - I mean, assistance. "What seems to be the problem?" I enquire, using all my amazing powers of politeness.

"My cat," she replies, indicating the aforementioned feline, which appears to be stuck in an about to be mentioned tree, "She's stuck in the tree."

"Leave it to me." I am preparing to turn the tree into a blazing inferno, which is the absolute best way to get cats down from trees, when it occurs to me that this may in fact violate several restraining orders and result in the immediate suspension of my superhero licence. Of course I don't have a licence, but the less said about that the better.

I try calling the cat. I try coaxing it down with some cat food - well a bit of kebab I found in my pocket. I don't remember having kebabs. The meat smells a bit funny, but that is probably just the special sauce. Still the animal does not budge.

I climb into the tree, and inch along the branch toward the cat. It moves a little further out, then leaps to a higher branch. Bugger. I do follow. Soon I am getting closer, and begin to use my magnificent powers of animal hypnosis. The cat stares at me, mesmerized, so that I am able to approach even closer. Then I am within only a few inches of arm's length. This is close enough. I begin to use my supreme powers of speaking with the animals, for I am Henry the Adequate, Cat Whisperer!

My exceptional plan is working. The cat's eyes narrow slightly, and it begins to purr. Excellent. I relax slightly, and whisper again, projecting the idea of a slow descent into the animal's tiny mind. Suddenly I have four sets of claws deep in the flesh of my upper arm and shoulder and those needle-sharp cat teeth piercing my right ear like a row of really sharp teeth. Perhaps it did not like the "tiny mind" bit.

The cat's fall is broken by a lower branch. Mine is broken by the sidewalk. Fortunately it is one of those nice soft concrete sidewalks. But now I am slightly angry. A beautiful tongue of raging flame roars forth and engulf's the tree such that it instantly erupts into a raging fireball.

Then I notice that the young lady is fussing tearfully over a red furry patch of sticky stuff on the pavement. Perhaps my landing was cushioned by something other than concrete after all. "Yes, well, I... am, um, Ted the Competent, and I will be going now."

Saturday, February 11, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #53

Just say no to drugs, because if you're speaking to your drugs, you've had too much already.

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Friday, February 10, 2006

Henry gets Smashed

Jpeg Images:

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These images generated using atomsmasher, and copyright atomsmasher under a creative commons license (see link). The words, of course, are mine. All mine! Get your filthy hands off of my words.

The Wisdom of Henry #52

Putting rude words and pictures on your webiste website can get you lots more hits, but that would be a serious violation of artistic integrity.

The Wisdom of Henry #52 brought to you by: Tits. Arse. More tits. Wobbly great mounds of mouth-watering flesh. Please come and watch the live sex freak show. Stay for the webcams.

Henry on Pizza Patrol

My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero.

I am battling evil. Well, not this second. I am seeking evil to battle. I am seeking in a direction that leads somehow inexplicably in the general direction of the best pizza shop in town. Ok, I am going out for pizza, but no no no it's not like that at all. I have encountered evil pizza shop proprieters before, and no doubt will again, so this is more of a business jaunt than anything else. And anyway, can't a superhero take a few moments out from battling the forces of evil?

Besides which, on the way I have managed to incinerate two diabolical mastermind supervillains, and a small cat. Well they might have been diabolical trees. And the cat may have been, well, a cat, but that was an accident. Accidents happen all the time, at least in my experience.

Suddenly I bump into a suspicious looking character. At first I am not certain what it is that has raised my superheroic senses to such a heightened state of suspicion, but then I realize that it is probably the gun he has pointed at me, and the way he seems to be demanding that I hand over all of my cash and also any breath freshener I might happen to have on me at the moment. Apparently he has a date.

Now this kind of situation is best handled with tact and tremendous subtlety because of the danger of injury not only to myself, but also to any bystanders that might be standing by, so I very subtly incinerate him with the flamethrower embedded in my forearm.

Thursday, February 09, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #51

Don't talk the talk if you can't run away very quickly.

Henry and the Rhyme Lord - part 18

My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero.

I must find my axe so that I can write a very important review of a cd this guy gave me. Where is that damn axe. I am throwing things out of the hall cupboard, because the axe almost certainly is not there. (Well, obviously I am not going to find it by looking in the places I think it is, otherwise I'd already have the damn thing)

What the hell is this computer doing here. I toss the strangely alien looking device. It strikes the wall at almost exactly the same moment as the universe decides to wobble strangely for no apparent reason. Then the computer strikes the floor at almost exactly the same moment as the universe decides to wobble strangely and violently for no readily apparent reason. Weird coincidences those.

"Did you feel that!" The rhyme lord hurries through from some other place that I'm not going to bother describing now because it's all just too difficult, and besides I have some really important stuff to tell you.

The rhyme lord seems very agitated about something. I am going to ask him what that might be when he trips over the alien computer. Coincidentally another universal wobbling episode chooses almost exactly the same moment to occur. The rhyme lord is now staring at the boxy beige alien device as though it is a highly advanced piece of extraterrestrial technology that has somehow fallen into our hands. "Where did you get that?"

"Oh this?" I kick it in order to illustrate the point that it will take more than a mind-bogglingly, insanely advanced technological gadget to impress me. The universe wobbles again. I think perhaps it is preparing to give birth to something. "Just this old computer thingy I picked up, you know."

He manages somehow to gaze on the computer as though it is a wonderous, miraculous discovery while simultaneously gazing at me as though I am a complete moron. "I need to study this." He hurries away, computer grasped tightly, to some other room that I'm not going to describe right now because I don't do setting and atmosphere and all that crap.

"Yes, good idea, sidekick rhyme lord. You study that thingy, while I do some very important superhero work!" I go out for pizza.

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #50

There is a little man inside your computer. He runs around and puts ones and noughts in tiny boxes. That's how computers work.

Henry is Revealed, Again.

My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero.

I shudder as though my spine is leaking slowly from my rectum and pooling on the carpet, leaving a mess that will be really difficult to clean up in the morning, dammit.

But there is no carpet, and I am not home. The night is dark, and I am uncertain of location, or direction, or purpose. Sweat drips from me in rivulets of uncertainty. There is a vague awareness of shapes, as though the buildings are somehow cloaked in a shadowy nothingness that is beyond mere darkness, inhabiting as it does the realm of subconscious evil.

A crow lands nearby and offers itself as a guide, or possibly a meal. At this point I imagine I might be dreaming, but who am I to say which is real. Did I question the existence of giant chickens? Did I demand of the evil mutant gummi bears that they show credentials verifying their existence? Ok, I did that, and for some reason they failed to respond, as though they somehow were not real at all. But none of this is important now.

The important thing at this moment is that somebody called Pauline has apparently invited me to a party, and that I am now standing at the entrance, naked and shivering in the moonlight as party goers drink and make merry and laugh at my extreme nudity. This situation is remarkably familiar, for some strange reason, such that I begin to suspect that perhaps I am not dreaming after all.

I wake, screaming, then sigh with relief at the realization that it was indeed a dream, then sigh with resignation as I realize that I have been sleepwalking again, and that I am now standing naked outside some kind of party while a person whose name apparently is Pauline demands that I leave, though at the same time her eyes are fixed in wonder on my enormous manhood.

I need to take a leak.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #49

You are the master of your own density.

Henry and the Rhyme Lord - part 17

My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero.

"I've got it!" And I do indeed have the answer. I know how we can avoid the end of the universe. Everything will be ok now, because I, Henry the Adequate, superhero, have come up with the solution. "I do not see how we could have been so blind. Such fools were we. But the end of our quest is approaching like a rapidly approaching end."

"What do you have?" the rhyme lord asks as though he has just been awarded the role of 'skeptical friend #2' in a major motion picture - perhaps something about a dashing superhero with a flamethrower embedded in his forearm.

"Watch!" I grab my laptop computer and fire it up. "And to think the very answer to our problems was under our noses all along." I wait a while longer, until the computer has finished all that stuff it does, then click on the little firefox picture to start it. "See, I can just type this." I press the g button, followed by a couple of o's, another g, an l, and an e, then press the big button labelled "enter". After a moment the web page thingy finishes loading.

"I think I can see where you're going with this," remarks the rhyme lord.


"... and it's not going to work."

"Rubbish!" I do not like to be disagreeable, but clearly this rhyme lord needs to have a little faith. Who's the superhero here anyway. "Google know everything!" I explain, adding an exclamation point for good measure.

I type "how can we save the universe from spontaneously ceasing to exist any day now", then sit back with a flourish of contempt for the unbeliever. Hmmm. Nothing really useful there. I type "universal armageddon avoidance thereof". Still nothing, but I must be getting really close, because it took a lot longer to load this time.


"Ok, so maybe I don't have the answer just yet." A couple of hours have passed, and I have probably only read about half of the internet. Clearly I need to perservere, and if there is one thing Henry the Adequate, superhero, is good at, it is perspiring. Perservering.

Monday, February 06, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #48

Beyond fear is bravery, beyond bravery despair, beyond despair defeat, surrender, subhumanoid agression and angst, and beyond all of these things is Henry the Adequate, superhero, savior of all those requiring saviorizing, tireless adversary of evil and badness.

Henry accepts cash, precious metals, and Paypal.

Henry and the End of Everything

Oh, no, it is happening. The end of the universe. I can feel it in my bones - a shuddering, quaking, terrifyingly deep feeling of inevitability, as though my very molecules are beginning to tear themselves apart.

I thought it would be instantaneous. I thought all of this would simply cease to exist - had not anticipated the eternal explosion of self that fills these last seconds like a wave filling the moat about my sand castle while at the same time tearing down its walls and mercilessly dashing my hopes of winning the gold prize for the most resiliant moat at the great summer moat-building carnival.

I am silent in my despair, unwavering in my determination to prevail over the forces of badness, yet also wavering slightly in my determination to resist blubbing like a baby.

The shuddering sensation is reaching a crescendo now, as my aching soul prepares to explode in a tremendous blast of psychic energy, and I am certain that this really is the end of...

...Sorry, false alarm. Only farted.

Sunday, February 05, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #47

The truth is within you, but I can remove it with my trusty axe.

Henry and the Quest for Truth

My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero.

Tonight I roam the footpaths in search of truth. I am certain it must be out here somewhere, but so far it has proved as elusive as an abstract concept hiding out in an unspecified city. I am beginning to suspect that truth may forever evade my superheroic probing.

But what was that? I am sure something just ducked down an alley ahead and to the left, so, using all of my superhuman speed, I do follow really quickly and with such haste that I may soon be forced to change my name to Henry the Hasty. Damn that superhero guild. Unfortunately it turns out I have only spotted a dealer selling drugs to school children. Pity. I move on.

A block further and I come accross a scruffy looking character with a long grey beard and tattered rags. He stands on a milk crate and issues forth with passion and fire and possibly also some words. As I approach closer I realize that there are indeed words, and also that he does indeed smell really bad. "... and hail all ducks and chickens, for soon enough the hamsters will come home to roost and a disturbing revelation will surely unfold before our very eyes while teardrops fall about us like coconuts."

"You!" He points in my direction, somehow picking me out of the crowd. No doubt my dynamic presence has drawn his attention, like a moth to a magnet, or a flame, or possibly a magnetic flame. Also there is nobody else about. "What do you seek?!"

"I seek the truth, oh noble one," I respond, because he must be some kind of guru or something - otherwise why would he be dressed in rags and acting like a complete nutter. Perhaps I should renounce my worldly goods and join his holy crusade.

"Truth is within you."

"What?" I don't see how that could have happened. Is there some kind of weird osmosis thing going on? Or did I eat some contaminated chicken or something? I'm fairly certain it wasn't there yesterday.

"Truth is within you," he intones again.

"Are you sure you've got the right person?"

"Truth is within all of us."

"You don't say..." I wonder where I can get a scalpel at this time of the night.

Saturday, February 04, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #46

Wisdom is knowing when to say "Excuse me, would anybody like to buy this slightly slime-damaged hamster?" and when to say nothing at all. Also, when to hold em, when to fold em, when to walk away, and when to run.

Country music is crap.

Henry and the Rhyme Lord - part 16

My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero.

"I've got it!" And I do indeed have the answer. I know how we can avoid the end of the universe. Everything will be ok now, because I, Henry the Adequate, superhero, have come up with the solution. "We use your time machine - when you've finished fixing it that is - and we go and live in the past!"

"That won't work," says the rhyme lord like a bucket of cold water being thrown on some copulating dogs.

"Of course it will work!" I enthuse with a degree of enthusiasm beyond the power of mere mortals, "do you not know who you are dealing with, rhyme lord?"

"Unfortunately time is a function of the universe in which we live, so when the universe ends time will also cease to exist." Does he think I am a fool?

"Do you think I am a fool?" Thanks to my enormous intellect I spot the flaw in his explanation almost immediately - well, within five or ten minutes. "If time ceases to exists... has ceased to exist... will cease to exist... well how is it we're still here now?"

"It's complicated," he explains helpfully. Clearly he is just sore because it was I thought up the brilliant plan by which we may escape the end of everything. But wait, it appears he has still been talking.


"It's complicated," he explains helpfully, "by the fact that time is both absolute and relative simultaneously. The events in which you were involved are leading inevitably toward universal unbeingness..."

"allegedly," I interject, for the sake of accuracy.


"allegedly involved."

"Anyway, those events occurred, and are still occurring, within a particular temporal frame of reference, and the Now-Point of that frame of reference has not yet reached the moment of universal armageddon. When it does, this reality will cease to exist."

"Would you like a hamster? It's a bit slimy."

Friday, February 03, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #45

The truth is out there, which is a pity really because we sure could use some of it in here.

The truth needs to get its act together.

Henry the Investigator

My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero.

I am meeting with an informant. The Seediest Bar in Seedsville is particularly busy at the moment, since it is "Bring your own stripper" night, which apparently is rampantly popular with a particular class of lowlife.

"What do you know?" I enquire, while handing over fifty cents in change. Damn those informants have gotten expensive.

"Nothing," remarks the scumbag mobster as though I have just handed him a slime-encrusted hamster. "Hey!" remarks the scumbag mobster, because it seems he may have heard me dictating these notes.

"Ok, ok." I put the hamster back in its bag and give him some more cash.

"I am thirsty." I buy him a drink. "My lap is cold." I give him a lap dance, which is really embarassing because I didn't wear my gold sequins tonight. He also seems embarassed for some reason, and I notice that several large tattooed persons are regarding us with open hostility. Perhaps they do not like superheros. Still he is not talking. I wonder if he needs another lap dance. "Oh, no no," he protests protestingly, "I'll talk."

"Excellent!" It is fortunate that I am endowed with highly advanced powers of persuasion.

He leans in close, eyes squinting furtively about before continuing. "The truth is out there," he mutters significantly and with emotion, as though he has just uttered something deep and meaningful and extremely valuable.

"What? Where?" Using my ultra-scanning xray vision I quickly examine the bar, the upstairs, and the street outside, but fail to find the truth in any of those places. Perhaps the truth is hiding. Perhaps the truth also needs a lap dance.

I stand, eyeball the bar for a moment using my heroic powers of posing heroically, and announce to all of the perverts and drunks, "I must go now!" But wait. I turn back to the nasty smelling informant. "One more thing..."

"What?" he responds sullenly, as though I have just insulted him in some way.

"Are you sure you won't take the hamster?"

Thursday, February 02, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #44

All good things must come to an end. This is so all crappy things can also come to an end. At least that was the idea, originally. I think we've been ripped off.

(with thanks to carouselle)

Henry and the Rhyme Lord - Part 15

My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero.

Damn. I ignore the sharp pain in my toes and continue bravely on to the bathroom. Who left that computer there anyway? And why did the universe just wobble again, as though it is resting on a plate of some jelly-like substance? A discarded breast implant perhaps. I wonder if they come in different colours and flavours.

The rhyme lord calls from somewhere in the vicinity of his rhyme machine. "What was that? Did the universe just go through some kind of random quantum fluctuation in the metareality field?" I ignore him, because I have much more important things to do. Also, I prefer my explanation.

Some minutes have passed. I am feeling much better now. I grab the alien computer from where it rests on the living room floor and throw it into a cupboard. There is a wobble that is more of a massive shudder, as though the plate on which the universe rests has just been thrown into a cupboard. The Doctor's head appears from the time travel device. "Something weird is going on," he remarks.

"You mean apart from the end of the universe?"


I shrug the shrug of the supremely exhausted. "I will check it out in the morning." Now, I must sleep.

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

The Wisdom of Henry #43

Have faith in yourself. You screw things up better than anyone I know.

Danger, Henry the Adequate, Danger

My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero.

A voice sounds from my right, full of urgency and almost-panic. "Freeze! Don't move a muscle!" Something must be desperately wrong. Perhaps I have stepped on a land mine, or some chewing gum. Whatever it is I had better deal with it quickly, since I really need to get home, right now. So, without moving a single powerful and bulging muscle, I use my highly tuned senses of sight and sound and smell to cast about like a dangerous predator casting about for a scent of its prey, or a statue of a dangerous predator casting about for its prey, for my powers of stillness are unmatched in all of superherodom.

I smell donuts, humanity, exhaust fumes, and fear. I see traffic, and pedestrians. Some of the people pause and stare as though waiting for something to happen. There is movement from the direction of the voice, but I cannot determine sufficient detail without turning my head, and I dare not do that. I hear breathing, traffic, muttered conversations, and then something else.

There is a click. Bugger. Is the mine about to explode? Should I use my incredible leaping powes to dive for cover? Is it too late? Will my brief yet heroic life end here and now, a mere cosmic instant before the end of the universe itself? "Thanks, that's great," says the voice.


"Thanks. You can stop freezing now."

"Oh crap," I explain by way of response, while heading bravely for home as though I might soon explode in some way that is probably best left unsaid. Damn Canadian photographers.