The Good Ending to Pokemon
Oct. 1st, 2024 09:26 amThird Puberty
Sep. 21st, 2024 10:32 am(Originally posted as a response to @lorenziniforce on cohost posting a timeline of effects of HRT that makes you into a dragon. This is the #1 story on the list for Project: Regenesis if I go that route. Also I'm changing the name to something I can spell consistently. Maybe just Project Rewrite.)
”Face it,” Lily said to herself. “This is just like last time. You knew then what you needed to do. This is no different just because it’s newer.”
Congratulations on starting your transition! Now that the options for nonhuman, otherworldly, and xenoborne transitions exist, we here at Occlusion are proud to be the number one nonprofit assisting all those looking to transition into bodies that better match your internal life.
As a quick note, Occlusion only assists with hylic and sarkic transitions - those seeking robotic, digital, or cybernetic transitions should contact our sister organization, Mechify! If you are looking for both, we can assist you in finding a doctor that will help you understand which is the ideal starting point for your transition goals.
Those seeking otherworldly powers but no permanent physical alterations or should seek non-transition methods of developing arcane abilities or petition for sponsorship with one of the NuGods - for the former, click here for a directory of mage’s guilds in your area, and for the latter click here for Pantheon Now for assistance navigating the divine sponsorship programs.
If you need assistance because you are Sarkic or Hylic and facing discrimination for your transition, a directory of affirming lawyers in your area can be found here.
Now then, which of these terms best describes your proper form? If you already know, head directly to the correct page for more information.
- Draconic (Includes all other scaled forms with paranormal abilities. Note that these transitions do include draconic energies - those looking for a draconic aesthetic without the energetic influences are better served undergoing a combination of Bestial therapies specializing in scale, tail, and/or wing formation.)
- Bestial (Includes all transitions into a humanoid body with animalistic features. Bestial transitions can include the infusion of Occultogen to facilitate the development of paranormal abilities.)
- Esoteric (Includes all transitions that do not map fully to the laws of the natural world. Note that Esoteric transitions are forms that cannot be fully expressed purely by biology or physics, and as such must include the energetic transition.)
- Demonic (Includes all fiendish transitions. Note that these transitions do include demonic energies - those looking for the demonic aesthetic without the energetic influences are better served undergoing a combination of Bestial and Draconic transitions.)
- Angelic (Includes all celestial transitions. Note that these transitions do include angelic energies - those looking for the angelic aesthetic without the energetic influences are better served undergoing a combination of Bestial and Mythic transitions.)
Occlusion is here to assist you as well if you are looking for support groups specialized in your particular morphotype in your area, finding therapy or therapy resources if you are uncertain if transition is right for you, and financial assistance with your transition if needed.
Click
The page loads quickly. The Ethernet wasn’t exactly the same as the Internet it replaced, being partially a digital plane of existence, but it was still built on the same general principles and adapted to work with old world computers. Lily had studied both computer science and sigilcraft in college, she knew the underlying tech like the back of her hand. The 2032 era tablet was using was one of the last models produced that wasn’t designed for the Ethernet specifically, but it had been designed for Ethernet support - the clicking sound had been a bit of legacy code to help the older generations feel more comfortable with the psychic controls.
You’ve selected Esoteric transition!
The text was over three photos. In the center was a girlthing that made Lily’s breath catch in her throat. The figure was feminine, and had a baseline human anatomy still - so one head, two arms, and two legs. Pronouns were listed beneath the image, Xi/Zer. Xi also had large, iridescent compound eyes, feathery antennae rising like trees from zer bright pink pixie cut hair, and four graceful tentacles ending in suckers emerging from zer back. Zer forearms and shins were covered in a glittering black carapace with spikes, and the parts of zer skin that were still skin were the rainbow of colors only possible via chromatophores. Some of the patches on zer shoulders and stomach - revealed by the crop top xi wore - were not just the result of zer shifting skin, but sigils that would help zer control the living shadow that currently formed the carapace on zer limbs.
Xi was perfect. Not exactly what Lily wanted, but so close to Lily’s dream that it was almost painful to see. She was no stranger to gender envy, and the only thing that kept the sensation from being too bad was the knowledge that this was within Lily’s grasp.
Her parents had barely tolerated her starting estrogen, but they were millennials so they had put up a good front for the sake of their progressive friends. “Oh, of course she’s our daughter now,” as if Lily couldn’t hear the feminine terms curdling on their tongues.
They’d gone ballistic when she came out as sarkic. 2052 barely tolerated human gendered transitions, but this? Lily had expected it to go badly, but the memory still hurt.
Lily pushed the thoughts aside. Today was a happy day. Today was the first day of the next stage of her life. When she’d realized she was trans, the term that was used was an egg cracking for that discovery. Realizing she was sarkic?
That was called her chrysalis breaking.
“We’ve already had second puberty,” Lily muttered under her breath with a grin. She glanced out the window, looking up at Earth’s new second moon, the deep purple orb that was the source of everything that made this possible. “What about third puberty?”
There was only one way to find out. Lily scrolled down.
Steel Giants
Sep. 21st, 2024 06:58 am(This was originally a response to the "Mech Pilot Who-" prompt "Mech Pilot who loves deploying in Swamps." It is a prime candidate for Project: Regensis, the fancy name I'm giving to "cohost stories I'd like to clean up and expand a little *or* make into full blown novels/Novellas.)
People often made fun of Hydra 1759-d for being a real world example of a “single biome planet,” a 20th century science fiction trope.
Hannah couldn’t stand those people.
Hydra 1759-d, also known as Antheia for the Greek god of swamps, was not a “Swamp World.” There were marshes, bogs, fens, mires, vernal pools, and a few types not even seen on Earth.
The marebog was the closest thing Antheia had to oceans, massive fields of what appeared to be relatively shallow water covered by tree-like organisms. However, those fields were actually hundreds of meters deep, just covered in a complex web of root structures that meant ten meters down, you were basically standing on a wicker basket woven across a planet. They absorbed salt to use as reinforcement in their structures, meaning the entire planet was nothing but freshwater.
And that was just one example.
There were dozens of others. The zeuspools were areas where perpetual storms driven by static build up from fungal like structures brought endless lightning. The hellmire was where single celled organisms analogous to amoeba produced gases that ignited in the sweltering heat, creating oven temperature regions filled with their own types of multicellular extremophiles
Hannah loved this world, and that’s why she became a ranger.
Antheia had three different life forms that served as possible Future Intelligences, and as such Antheia was off limit to the majority of humans. None of the local life was advanced enough for communication to take place, but those three creatures were on par with crows and elephants and octopuses back home.
Which meant these worlds sometimes got used by people who didn’t want to be found.
People often through people like Hannah were hunting down drug smugglers or local ma-and-pa crime lords. Those kinds of people didn’t have resources to slip onto Class 3 Limited Access worlds. The people who set up shop in these kind of worlds were corporations looking to skirt pollution regulations, or far right militias looking to train for some uprising or another.
That last one was what Hannah was up against right now. The Khorwights were looking to…Hannah had to check her log. Ah, right. They believed that the galaxy belonged to Humanity as the first starfaring races, and all alien life must be killed. Also, trans people were a conspiracy created in the 23rd century by alien parasites and a dozen other old-Earth bigotries that hadn’t been fully left behind when Earth had been put under a six century quarantine to give the entire planet time to heal.
The Khorwights had assembled six Stahmkreiz mecha. Impressive, really. On an airless moon, Hannah would have been in trouble going one on six against even incompetent pilots in a Stahmkreiz.
But they weren’t on an airless moon. They were on Anthiea.
To call it a chase was an overstatement. Hannah had to keep pretending to slow down, or have engine trouble, or get tangled to give them time to catch up. The Stahmkreiz could barely move in the thick waters of Anthiea.
“Surrender!” one of them shouted over their mecha’s speakers. “We have you six to one!”
“I can count!” Hannah shouted back. “If you have me, take me!”
Just a bit further…
There.
She leapt out of the water onto the first bit of solid land she’d seen in a while. Her mecha was a piece of custom work, built to handle being waist deep in water at all times. She could propel herself like a boat floating on her shins, she could balance on waterlogged ground, she could fire a half dozen cluster bombs right now and probably take out three of them at once.
Except she wasn’t going to. Because doing so might damage this world.
She extended her blade and crouched into a fighting pose. Even in her custom green-grey mech, she couldn’t fight in melee while drenched in water. But if she had to, she could easily do so.
She wouldn’t need to.
“We have you now!” one of the Stahmkreiz shouted.
Hannah didn’t answer. She’d turned off her speakers when she got close for a reason.
The one who had thrown out the taunt was the first to go. What had looked like just another rivulet of water rose up from the ground, wrapping around his mech like a tentacle. He screamed and opened fire wildly as it pulled him into the water, constricting him on the way down. His companions started to shout too.
Hannah waited until they were all entangled and sheathed her blade. The psuedopods weren’t strong enough to crush hardened steel. But they were strong enough to overload servos as they tried to move. She hopped out of her mecha and gently touched down on the island she had stood on.
Then she patted the ground. “Good boy” she said. There was a rumble in the air, but no reaction from the psueodopods. Hannah walked over towards one of the mechs. “You really didn’t do your homework before coming here,” she said.
“Let me out!” the pilot shouted.
“Lower your volume,” Hannah said. “The reapmarsh doesn’t like it when you’re too loud. That’s how you got grabbed.”
There was a few moments, and the pilot spoke again, this time his volume at a much more reasonable level. “Let me out, trahnic.”
“Word of advice? Don’t throw slurs at someone you’re asking for help.” Hannah pulled out a can from her suit and opened it. There was a nice crisp sound in the air. She took a drink. “But don’t worry. Once the reapmarsh lets you go, I’ll open your suit up.”
“You mean the organisms in the reapmarsh, you swine,” the pilot said.
“Nope. See, the reapmarsh is something we don’t have back home. A creature that is an ecosystem in and of itself.” Hannah took another drink and waited. The pilot finally caught on.
“You’re not wearing a suit,” he said.
“Bingo. Bioforming is much better than terraforming, in my opinion. Change our body to suit the world, not the world to suit our body, am I right?” She grinned.
“You’re unnatural.”
“You’re a primate with delusions of grandeur.” Hannah shrugged. “I’m technically classified as a semi-local lifeform now. Me and about thirty others. Our children will watch over this world for a thousand years. Their children will watch for a thousand more. By the time the local life is ready to join the galactic community, we’ll have watched this world long enough for your suit to have rusted into nothing. Your body will go with it.”
That brought a pause. “When…when does the reapmarsh let go?” he asked.
“It takes about thirty years usually. I’ll just crack open your cockpit to let the water in once it does.” Hannah shrugged. “You can open it now if you want.”
“I can’t breathe in this air.”
“Correct.” Hannah went back to her mech. “You’re already dead. I’m going to your base. You’ve got the Beastmorph mecha there, right?”
“Yes. It will kill-”
“Shut up, no one cares. Look. I can do a single strafing run. Should shatter that terraforming dome your people have built here. Your false atmosphere will rush out, local atmosphere will rush in. Your people will die. Give me override codes for the Beastmorph, and I’ll give them a chance to surrender peacefully - and if they do, I’ll come back and set you free before your life support fails. Deal?”
He’d go for it. They always did. And Hannah would keep her promise. The look in this fascist’s eyes when she cracked open his cockpit and let local atmosphere rush in was always worth the wait.
Hannah barely noticed something scamper off into the bushes and grinned. The Grex were low slung amphibious bipeds with a build somewhere between ape and dinosaur with the eyes of slugs. Personally, she hoped they would be the first to achieve communication with Earth. They were the kind of ugly that looped back around to being cute.
Little did she know that she’d get that hope. The Grex had just begun playing with the concept of religion. This one would croak to his cluster of what he had witnessed. Those tales would spread to other Grex. They would spread across the world, and the story would come with them. One day, they would tell tales of the steel giants that waged war on their world.
And they would remember the first of the Steel Wardens who had kept their world safe.
Steel Giants
Sep. 21st, 2024 06:58 am(This was originally a response to the "Mech Pilot Who-" prompt "Mech Pilot who loves deploying in Swamps." It is a prime candidate for Project: Regensis, the fancy name I'm giving to "cohost stories I'd like to clean up and expand a little *or* make into full blown novels/Novellas.)
People often made fun of Hydra 1759-d for being a real world example of a “single biome planet,” a 20th century science fiction trope.
Hannah couldn’t stand those people.
Hydra 1759-d, also known as Antheia for the Greek god of swamps, was not a “Swamp World.” There were marshes, bogs, fens, mires, vernal pools, and a few types not even seen on Earth.
The marebog was the closest thing Antheia had to oceans, massive fields of what appeared to be relatively shallow water covered by tree-like organisms. However, those fields were actually hundreds of meters deep, just covered in a complex web of root structures that meant ten meters down, you were basically standing on a wicker basket woven across a planet. They absorbed salt to use as reinforcement in their structures, meaning the entire planet was nothing but freshwater.
And that was just one example.
There were dozens of others. The zeuspools were areas where perpetual storms driven by static build up from fungal like structures brought endless lightning. The hellmire was where single celled organisms analogous to amoeba produced gases that ignited in the sweltering heat, creating oven temperature regions filled with their own types of multicellular extremophiles
Hannah loved this world, and that’s why she became a ranger.
Antheia had three different life forms that served as possible Future Intelligences, and as such Antheia was off limit to the majority of humans. None of the local life was advanced enough for communication to take place, but those three creatures were on par with crows and elephants and octopuses back home.
Which meant these worlds sometimes got used by people who didn’t want to be found.
People often through people like Hannah were hunting down drug smugglers or local ma-and-pa crime lords. Those kinds of people didn’t have resources to slip onto Class 3 Limited Access worlds. The people who set up shop in these kind of worlds were corporations looking to skirt pollution regulations, or far right militias looking to train for some uprising or another.
That last one was what Hannah was up against right now. The Khorwights were looking to…Hannah had to check her log. Ah, right. They believed that the galaxy belonged to Humanity as the first starfaring races, and all alien life must be killed. Also, trans people were a conspiracy created in the 23rd century by alien parasites and a dozen other old-Earth bigotries that hadn’t been fully left behind when Earth had been put under a six century quarantine to give the entire planet time to heal.
The Khorwights had assembled six Stahmkreiz mecha. Impressive, really. On an airless moon, Hannah would have been in trouble going one on six against even incompetent pilots in a Stahmkreiz.
But they weren’t on an airless moon. They were on Anthiea.
To call it a chase was an overstatement. Hannah had to keep pretending to slow down, or have engine trouble, or get tangled to give them time to catch up. The Stahmkreiz could barely move in the thick waters of Anthiea.
“Surrender!” one of them shouted over their mecha’s speakers. “We have you six to one!”
“I can count!” Hannah shouted back. “If you have me, take me!”
Just a bit further…
There.
She leapt out of the water onto the first bit of solid land she’d seen in a while. Her mecha was a piece of custom work, built to handle being waist deep in water at all times. She could propel herself like a boat floating on her shins, she could balance on waterlogged ground, she could fire a half dozen cluster bombs right now and probably take out three of them at once.
Except she wasn’t going to. Because doing so might damage this world.
She extended her blade and crouched into a fighting pose. Even in her custom green-grey mech, she couldn’t fight in melee while drenched in water. But if she had to, she could easily do so.
She wouldn’t need to.
“We have you now!” one of the Stahmkreiz shouted.
Hannah didn’t answer. She’d turned off her speakers when she got close for a reason.
The one who had thrown out the taunt was the first to go. What had looked like just another rivulet of water rose up from the ground, wrapping around his mech like a tentacle. He screamed and opened fire wildly as it pulled him into the water, constricting him on the way down. His companions started to shout too.
Hannah waited until they were all entangled and sheathed her blade. The psuedopods weren’t strong enough to crush hardened steel. But they were strong enough to overload servos as they tried to move. She hopped out of her mecha and gently touched down on the island she had stood on.
Then she patted the ground. “Good boy” she said. There was a rumble in the air, but no reaction from the psueodopods. Hannah walked over towards one of the mechs. “You really didn’t do your homework before coming here,” she said.
“Let me out!” the pilot shouted.
“Lower your volume,” Hannah said. “The reapmarsh doesn’t like it when you’re too loud. That’s how you got grabbed.”
There was a few moments, and the pilot spoke again, this time his volume at a much more reasonable level. “Let me out, trahnic.”
“Word of advice? Don’t throw slurs at someone you’re asking for help.” Hannah pulled out a can from her suit and opened it. There was a nice crisp sound in the air. She took a drink. “But don’t worry. Once the reapmarsh lets you go, I’ll open your suit up.”
“You mean the organisms in the reapmarsh, you swine,” the pilot said.
“Nope. See, the reapmarsh is something we don’t have back home. A creature that is an ecosystem in and of itself.” Hannah took another drink and waited. The pilot finally caught on.
“You’re not wearing a suit,” he said.
“Bingo. Bioforming is much better than terraforming, in my opinion. Change our body to suit the world, not the world to suit our body, am I right?” She grinned.
“You’re unnatural.”
“You’re a primate with delusions of grandeur.” Hannah shrugged. “I’m technically classified as a semi-local lifeform now. Me and about thirty others. Our children will watch over this world for a thousand years. Their children will watch for a thousand more. By the time the local life is ready to join the galactic community, we’ll have watched this world long enough for your suit to have rusted into nothing. Your body will go with it.”
That brought a pause. “When…when does the reapmarsh let go?” he asked.
“It takes about thirty years usually. I’ll just crack open your cockpit to let the water in once it does.” Hannah shrugged. “You can open it now if you want.”
“I can’t breathe in this air.”
“Correct.” Hannah went back to her mech. “You’re already dead. I’m going to your base. You’ve got the Beastmorph mecha there, right?”
“Yes. It will kill-”
“Shut up, no one cares. Look. I can do a single strafing run. Should shatter that terraforming dome your people have built here. Your false atmosphere will rush out, local atmosphere will rush in. Your people will die. Give me override codes for the Beastmorph, and I’ll give them a chance to surrender peacefully - and if they do, I’ll come back and set you free before your life support fails. Deal?”
He’d go for it. They always did. And Hannah would keep her promise. The look in this fascist’s eyes when she cracked open his cockpit and let local atmosphere rush in was always worth the wait.
Hannah barely noticed something scamper off into the bushes and grinned. The Grex were low slung amphibious bipeds with a build somewhere between ape and dinosaur with the eyes of slugs. Personally, she hoped they would be the first to achieve communication with Earth. They were the kind of ugly that looped back around to being cute.
Little did she know that she’d get that hope. The Grex had just begun playing with the concept of religion. This one would croak to his cluster of what he had witnessed. Those tales would spread to other Grex. They would spread across the world, and the story would come with them. One day, they would tell tales of the steel giants that waged war on their world.
And they would remember the first of the Steel Wardens who had kept their world safe.
Website Work
Sep. 21st, 2024 06:53 amI now am starting to understand what they mean.
I haven't changed much on the front of end of my neocities yet, but I've been working on transporting old chosts over to the site just because there is a ticking clock on it. Short stories that weren't on Cohost and blog posts from my old blog will get moved over eventually as well, and I'll be posting them here as well (although trickling them out with each post so I don't just overwhelm y'all.)
Anyway. I'm having fun with HTML and CSS in spite of barely understanding what I'm doing, and I'm now wishing I'd started this stuff sooner in life - but the second best time to plant a tree etc. etc.
Website Update
Sep. 17th, 2024 10:52 amSo I think I went too far with my original plan to recreate Windows XP with in a website on a narrow timeframe. I'm working on that still as a long term project, but I'm also trying to set myself some more reasonable goals. I've used a template to redesign it, and will be working on both versions for a bit.
Also, the site needs "stuff." I'll be starting to actually port more of my old favorite chosts over to the site and to here and a few other places over the next few days. Think I'm going to divide it up stories, poetry, journal, ttrpgs, and special interests (which will include worldbuilding, speculative evolution/history nerding out, as well as just random infodumps about space and animals and magic) - feels like that covers the five main things I post about.
Question for those who *are* here - of those categories, what interests y'all the most?
Planning to Prevent the Doomscroll
Sep. 15th, 2024 03:55 pm1: Write.
If no energy for write
2: Edit
If no energy for edit
3: Code/Draw/Work on TTRPG/New Fun Skill
If no energy for Code/Draw/Work on TTRPG/New Fun Skill
4: Game
If no energy for game
5: Read
If no energy for read
6: TV show
If no energy for TV show
7: Youtube video essays/other passive 'watch and learn a thing' videos.
If no energy for video essays
8: Walk, drink water, eat food, shower to make sure addressing body needs
If no energy for self-care
9: I'm probably in a spiral, reach out to partners or friends for emotional support.
If no energy for reaching out
10: Nap. If nothing else is working, it's nap time.
So far I feel like I'm doing pretty good with it. I made a basic-ass website today and got it to look a bit like Windows XP!
Also yes, that feed box does automatically pull from the RSS feed integrated natively into Dreamwidth and should auto-update (It may take an hour or two to update, gonna use this blog post to keep an eye on it.)

The lack of likes here is growing on me
Sep. 13th, 2024 09:41 amSo initially I was not thrilled that Dreamwidth lacked some kind of like feature, but the more I think about it, the more I enjoy it.
Liking for me can become very mindless. "Yes, I saw this thing, and generally wish to show support in a vague way." It was borderline meaningless.
But here you have to comment, and I think that's good, actually. I got a comment from someone the other day that was just a heart emoji, and that felt more meaningful to me than the vast majority of likes I've ever gotten, even though it shares the same underlying meaning.
It's about the slight bit of effort put in.
This might change over time if it starts to feel like I'm screaming into the void and no one's here to listen, but as long as comments are a thing I think I'll like this way of not having likes.My New Rule
Sep. 12th, 2024 10:13 amThe other one also pays the bills, but that's mainly through my co-author projects there. My solo projects there have been...not updated in a long time.
And I'm going to. And when I do, I'm going to remember this: I have to write books where I have fun. I will be weird. I will write stories where dinosaurs fight dragons, or necromancers fight with meat mechs, or trans women punch gods. I will not think, "Is this to market?" I will think, "Does this make my inner child go 'fuck yeah!'?"
I will have fun with my action fantasy pen. I will be pulpy. I will be over the top. I will not be held back by my own fears anymore. I'll be authentic to who I am.
I will write books for me, and if I'm lucky, the readers who originally followed me because that's what I was doing will continue to do so.
I fought hard to be soft.
Sep. 12th, 2024 09:05 amI fought hard to be soft.
So I refuse to be ashamed I’m tearing up because my cat got scared and curled in my lap for comfort, because I know that means I’m safe and that means I kept my promise to never cause pain like I felt.
I fought hard to be soft.
So I refuse to be ashamed that at 37 I sleep curled up with a stuffed shark because I was told my whole life that was weakness but taking care of the basic need for comfort isn’t weakness it is just human.
I fought hard to be soft.
So I refuse to be ashamed that sometimes my relatively easy life can still be too much because I suffered so much the first 30 years of my life and healing takes time so sometimes it’s okay to cry over spilt milk.
I fought hard to be soft.
So I refuse to be ashamed of who I am, to be a hopeless romantic over the first woman to make me feel safe, to be a dork who sings even though she’s bad at it, to spoil my cats rotten because they deserve the best life I can give them.
I refuse to let a fear of being weak stop me from being soft.
I refuse to become hard and callous again.
I fought hard to be soft, and now that I feel like the wounds of years are closing, I’m finally allowing myself to actually be the person I fought to become.
I really want to use social media with more purpose than I have been. I want to avoid mindlessly scrolling for hours. I want to hold onto the healthy habits I've picked up. So posting somewhere that is a legacy of the old internet like this? Exactly the kind of place I need - although I will be posting elsewhere too. After cohost, I'm going to try not to get too invested in any one place.
Ghost kitchens are wild
Sep. 11th, 2024 09:28 amI'm picking up food for someone. The restaurant is called Bait and Tackle. I pull up to a Hooters. Was the address wrong? No, the app tells me. It's in the Hooters. There's a restaurant hiding in the restaurant. I get a second order, for chicken, from a different restaurant. It's in the Hooters. I get a third order, for a beating heart, from a different restaurant. It's in the Hooters. I'm in the Hooters. I go deliver to an apartment. I drive for a half hour. I get to the apartment. It's in the Hooters.
I'm picking up food for someone. I go to the address. It's a grocery store. The delivery isn't for groceries. I go and ask the cashier where Tony's is. The cashier says "Let me help you" while their eyes say "run." I'm lead to the back. There's three tables here. The chairs are on the tables. They're locked in place. There's a window behind the tables. I hear sizzling. A voice asks who I'm picking up for. I give a name. The name is theirs now. I am given a brown bag by something I tell myself is a hand. It was not a hand. I tell myself it is. The bag is covered in grease stains. I tell myself the stains are grease. It was not grease.
I'm picking up food for someone. I go to the address. It's a home. Just a house. There's a sign in front. I wonder if this is safe or legal. I go to the front door. Do I go in? Do I knock? The mailslot opens. A voice asks me who I'm picking up for. It's the same voice. They've all had the same voice. I show them the name. There is a growl. Is that a dog? It is a house. It must be a dog. I'm given a brown bag through the mail slot. It's the same brown bag I left at the last house. My fingerprints are on it.
I'm picking up food for someone. The restaurant is called Burger Den. I pull up to a Denny's. Was the address wrong? No. It's in the Denny's. I go into the Denny's. It's another Hooters. I get a second order. It's for a sandwich from a place called Melt Down. It's in the Denny's. I get a third order. It's for a 𒂍𒀀𒉌𒀭𒈠𒋮 from a place called 𒂄𒄀. It's in the Denny's. I cancel the order. I'm ready to go home.
There's a brown bag on my doorstep. My name's on it. My fingerprints are on it. I gave a name. Did I give the customer's name or my own? I open the bag. My name's in it. I left it. They gave it back. I sigh in relief, and turn around.
I'm in the Denny's.