She saw two ladybugs yesterday, one of them twice.
The fat face of the Yellow Moon warned her from beyond the row of palms that line the sandy beach of the calm cove over which the Yellow Moon's shine reflects through a low set of cotton clouds.
Feeling poor is not the same as Being Poor.
Everything's changed since Eugene arrived.
If you cannot even properly identify your enemy, how will you ever defeat them?
^..^
"Slowly, the Lingerer slinks toward me," she starts; "No way, stop it; this is going to get really complicated, really fast," she scolds.
Silence.
Stillness.
"For the fucking LOVE of all that is green, please, can we just have one normal sequence," Ladybug sighs, despondent. "I'm not despondent," Ladybug thinks for a moment, "I'm ... I'm ... okay, fine. I'm despondent."
Palpable, the futility begins to reveal itself. "This is not a futile situation," she and Squirrel state, in unison, while standing. "Not this again," Ladybug eyerolls. "Squirrel said that the dragonfly suggested we were only a week early," she explains. Ladybug laughs so hard it falls over and begins rolling around on the ground on its shell. "It's ... nota ... shell," Ladybug manages between giggles. "What the fuck is so fucking funny, Lady!" Squirrel shouts. Ladybug chuckles as it dusts itself off, "A dragonfly? A dragonfly came by here and 'suggested' that you're about a week early?" "Yea," Squirrel, losing confidence, confirms. Ladybug has another fit of laughter.
"Stop it," she eyerolls.
Upright again, Ladybug shakes its head, "That dragonfly lied." "How the hell do you know?" Squirrel challenges. "Cause, look," Ladybug points in the direction of the green green hillside at the base of the middlemost peak where the three peaks meet. "What are we looking at?" she and Squirrel speak simultaneously. "Where's the barn?" Ladybug offers. The two skeptics stare off into the distance.
"Fuck!" the two simultaneously shout. "Yes," Ladybug agrees; "We didn't realize you were off to the Listmaker's Ranch." "How? How could you not know? Isn't that why you're here?" Squirrel sniffles, aghast. "Uh, no. We thought we were summoned to you, uh, you know, for no reason at all," Ladybug cheerily suggests, top legs wide, a shit-eating grin.
"Lay-dee!" Squirrel shouts, eyes wild, teeth clenched.
"Goddammit, Squirrel. Why do you always have to be like this?" Ladybug shakes its head, disappointed. "Like what?" Squirrel spits. "Just, ugh, you're clueless," Ladybug starts. "About..." Squirrel leads. "She's obviously not whoever you think she is," Ladybug points at her. "Whu...who?" Squirrel stammers.
She looks guilty.
"She's a Bromide,"* Ladybug shrugs, despondent. "She's ..."
"A disgrace," she interjects.
^..^
The people who treat her the worst on this planet are women over-fifty-five, which is such a weird demographic to hate on the next generation of women, especially Globeaux women, in her opinion.
Exhibit A
She's doing her job at her jobplace. An overweight, ugly, white, Over-Fifty-Fiver slinks into an aisle behind her, and she does not see the OFF. As she begins to move down the aisle, she incidentally "cuts off" the OFF. The OFF screams at her, "Excuse me! I'm trying to get down this aisle!" "I didn't see you," she explains, "I didn't ..." "The customer is always right! You're a worker. I'm the CUSTOMER!"
Exhibit B
She's doing her job at her jobplace. An older senile, droopy-faced asian Over-Sixty-Fiver slithers by. As she passes by the OSF, the OSF's face congeals into a nasty look that suggests the OSF would like to see her dead, and then, as some young male walks by, the OSF smiles.
Exhibit C
She's shopping about town. A sign spinner stops her on a street corner and suggests a cute little shop where she might like some things. She follows the map and heads toward the shop. As she nears the shop, an old ethnic-looking OFF grabs her by the shoulders and informs, "My shop is right over there," and points, "the guy just called me saying you were on your way." Creeped the fuck out, she gazes blankly at the tchotchkes for sale in this particular "street market" in which she finds herself. She decides she'll take a look at the OFF's shop. Upon arriving at the OFF's shop, she realizes the "shop" is more of a "stall" or "stand," and is immediately turned off, nevertheless, she approaches. "Oh, so where are you from?" the OFF starts with a smile. "Here. I moved here," she says. A shadow falls over the OFF's face, "Oh, so you decided to move here?" "Yea," she answers. "Why do people want to move here?" the OFF starts, "Everyone wants to move here, why? It'll kick you out if you don't belong. I've been here since I was five. Fifty-seven I am, now. That's fifty-five years. Everyone moves here, and it makes everything expensive, so now I'm unhoused," she explains, and then she answers her iPhone through the Airpod in her ear, as she sits in front of thousands of dollars of product she what, stole?
Exhibit D
While home for the summer between college semesters, she tans herself in the sun in the backyard of her family's house. Her mother appears on the back patio, "Are you on your period?" She lifts her head, confused, "Yea?" Smiling, her mother yells among laughs, "I knew it! I can see your belly pooch!"
^..^
One person has 50K social media followers and $0
Another person has 0 SMFs and $50K
If you think that it's impossible to have hundreds of thousands of followers and $0, think again.
The person with 50K SMFs thinks that they can do something for the person with $50K.
What, exactly, can the person with 50K SMFs do for the person with $50K who neither wants nor needs SMFs?
^..^
"It's the imbalance of it all that ensures that there are limits to some friendships."
Who said that?
"Don't worry. The world spins round, not up and down."
What does that have to do with anything? Who are you?
"What is a friend?"
...
"Do you have a friend?"
Are you asking me?
"Yes."
Who are you?
"A friend."
Whose friend?
"Your friend."
How can we be friends, if I don't know who you are?
"You know who I am."
Who are you, then?
"I'm your friend!"
^..^
On Glory
More than fame, more than greatness, glory. Like reverence but less-personal. Like saintly but not-religious. A state of being as opposed to a title, imbued not bestowed. Adoration but not really.
On G.O.A.T.-ness
"Of All Time"? Seriously? All Time has yet to unfold. The already-dangerous pride has morphed into hubris, and we're all for it, cause there are no moral lessons about hubris *wink wink*
^..^
a little
right from the first sip
i could feel it
*yes, the original posting of this post had Ladybug describe her as a "Monitor," but the Truth is, as i sit here in the future [24Aug24 approximately 0330], that she is a Bromide. these are sketches, remember, an anthology-like work of science fiction being written &shared in real-time.