The Rise and Fall of . . .
May. 21st, 2008 06:35 pmThis is what happens when you read The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich and then clean your house:
The delegation had massed on my desk. Nine of them, eight standing at a soft gray approximation of attention, the ninth standing in front, legs astraddle like a colossus bestriding the world. Their eyes were tiny, red, sharply glittering in the amorphous grayness of their bodies. Calling them "bunnies" is a polite fiction; their underslung jaws and short snouts made them look more like bulldogs or pigs. They did, however, have the long ears. Apparently, all dust bunnies are lops.
When he was satisfied he had my attention, their leader announced, "Ve have ze ultimatum!"
"Excuse me? And what's with the comic opera German?"
He stamped his foot, which had neither sound nor visible effect. "Ve are ze National Socialist dust bunnies, and ve have ze ultimatum!"
He glared at me, and I suspected I was supposed to be terrified. But enormous though he and his troops were, leviathan for dust bunnies translates to about six inches tall.
I waited.
I got an even worse glare, the pulling together of all the wrinkles of his face into a scowl turning it nearly black. "Ve dust bunnies," he said, waving one paw at his supporters in a gesture that I understood was meant to encompass the dust bunny population of the entire house, "ve need ze lebensraum. You? Must go." He began to stride up and down, sublimely indifferent to the treacherous footing. "Zere vill be no cleaning!"
"Heil!" shouted his eight subordinates.
"Zere will be no vacuum!"
"Heil!"
"Ze vacuums vill be given to us! Ve know what to do wiz vacuums!"
"Heil!"
"Your creatures vill go! You vill go! Ze lebensraum vill be ours!"
"Heil!"
"And if we don't go?"
His evil little eyes glinted up at me. "Zere will be . . . retaliations. Ve have ze armies. Ve have ze weaponry. Our troops are not afraid to die for ze glory of ze Staubkaninchenvolk!"
"Heil! Heil! Heil!"
But he could see I was unimpressed. He stopped, leaned forward mock-confidingly. "Ve have ze dust bomb."
"Heil!"
"Ve have . . . ze space program."
He was lying, and we both knew it. The most he had was a ceiling program. But his followers shouted "Heil!" all the same.
"Ve have weapons vich you cannot imagine!"
"Heil!"
That, I figured, was probably true. But I'd had enough of his posturing and threats, and I called his little Nazi bluff.
Reader, I vacuumed him.
The delegation had massed on my desk. Nine of them, eight standing at a soft gray approximation of attention, the ninth standing in front, legs astraddle like a colossus bestriding the world. Their eyes were tiny, red, sharply glittering in the amorphous grayness of their bodies. Calling them "bunnies" is a polite fiction; their underslung jaws and short snouts made them look more like bulldogs or pigs. They did, however, have the long ears. Apparently, all dust bunnies are lops.
When he was satisfied he had my attention, their leader announced, "Ve have ze ultimatum!"
"Excuse me? And what's with the comic opera German?"
He stamped his foot, which had neither sound nor visible effect. "Ve are ze National Socialist dust bunnies, and ve have ze ultimatum!"
He glared at me, and I suspected I was supposed to be terrified. But enormous though he and his troops were, leviathan for dust bunnies translates to about six inches tall.
I waited.
I got an even worse glare, the pulling together of all the wrinkles of his face into a scowl turning it nearly black. "Ve dust bunnies," he said, waving one paw at his supporters in a gesture that I understood was meant to encompass the dust bunny population of the entire house, "ve need ze lebensraum. You? Must go." He began to stride up and down, sublimely indifferent to the treacherous footing. "Zere vill be no cleaning!"
"Heil!" shouted his eight subordinates.
"Zere will be no vacuum!"
"Heil!"
"Ze vacuums vill be given to us! Ve know what to do wiz vacuums!"
"Heil!"
"Your creatures vill go! You vill go! Ze lebensraum vill be ours!"
"Heil!"
"And if we don't go?"
His evil little eyes glinted up at me. "Zere will be . . . retaliations. Ve have ze armies. Ve have ze weaponry. Our troops are not afraid to die for ze glory of ze Staubkaninchenvolk!"
"Heil! Heil! Heil!"
But he could see I was unimpressed. He stopped, leaned forward mock-confidingly. "Ve have ze dust bomb."
"Heil!"
"Ve have . . . ze space program."
He was lying, and we both knew it. The most he had was a ceiling program. But his followers shouted "Heil!" all the same.
"Ve have weapons vich you cannot imagine!"
"Heil!"
That, I figured, was probably true. But I'd had enough of his posturing and threats, and I called his little Nazi bluff.
Reader, I vacuumed him.
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Date: 2008-05-21 11:59 pm (UTC)Yup, ve ship zem to ze houses with the Golden dogs and they labor endlessly.
We have a ceremony here for new vacuums, we take them out of the box, assemble them, look solemnly at them and say "I'm sorry to tell you this but you have only a year to live. Two at the outside. On the plus side, you can spend your final days terrorizing cats."
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Date: 2008-05-21 11:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-22 12:03 am (UTC)Then I fell out of my chair to worship at your feet.
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Date: 2008-05-22 12:04 am (UTC)Dustbusters!
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Date: 2008-05-22 12:11 am (UTC)*rises from the dead*
*dies some more*
*tries to imagine the Leni Riefenstahl of dust bunnies*
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Date: 2008-05-22 12:12 am (UTC)Ha!
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Date: 2008-05-22 12:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-22 12:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-22 12:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-22 12:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-22 12:39 am (UTC)Zaf
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Date: 2008-05-22 01:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-22 01:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-22 01:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-22 01:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-22 03:14 am (UTC)...does the tumblefur do an Outrageous French Accent (TM)?
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Date: 2008-05-22 04:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-22 04:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-22 05:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-22 06:08 am (UTC)Too funny. TOO FUNNY!!!
The Glory of the Staubkaninchenvolk... ooh boy my tummy box hurts from laughings!
That's a great book, by the way.
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Date: 2008-05-22 06:36 am (UTC)! ((gasp of delight)) ((eyes shine))
Heeeeee.
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Date: 2008-05-22 07:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-22 11:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-22 12:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-22 01:20 pm (UTC)That was great!
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Date: 2008-05-22 06:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-22 06:49 pm (UTC)hearty applause
Date: 2008-05-22 08:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-23 04:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-23 01:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-23 02:13 pm (UTC)Our troops are not afraid to die for ze glory of ze Staubkaninchenvolk!"
*laughs* Strangely, we call them 'Staubmäuse' though, which translates as 'Dust mice' ^^
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Date: 2008-05-24 05:35 am (UTC)[I was referred here from
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Date: 2008-05-25 12:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-25 11:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-26 07:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-27 02:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-05 11:51 pm (UTC)Great visuals. I found myself wondering if he left little dusty tracks when he paced across your desk. (How do bunnies stride anyway?) /snicker/
BTW my writing partner and I saw one of your books in a shop window in Berkeley yesterday - same window we saw