The Drink Tank 216 (2009).pdf

The Drink Tank

issue 216

Yes, that’s a cover by Genevieve! That’s always a good thing. And the lead story this

time was inspired by BayCon and is dedicated to Alex, the hyper-intelligent parrot

that was the foundation on which the Alex Foundation was founded.

I Hear They Taste Like Chicken

By Leigh Ann Hildebrand

Pauline was dragged from a leafy dream by metallic scratching heard and felt as

a rusty thrumming in her bones. The insistent noise was conducted through the loor of

the cage and into her head, beneath arms curled protectively around her face while she

slept. Even after she realized she was no longer running through dappled green and yellow

shadows along the bank of the river, she kept her eyes closed until she was fully awake and

alert.

The scraping continued, more insistently. Pauline shuddered and pulled herself up

into a crouch against the back of the cage, raising her head last to look at the source of the

irritation. An olerd stared back at her expectantly, his brightly-plumed head cocked to one

side, crest raised to signal aggression or curiosity. Pauline hadn’t been among the olerds

long enough to be able to gauge their moods perfectly, but she was learning. He scraped his

sharp nails against the loor of the cage again; this time, she knew what he wanted

Pauline stretched her back and pulled herself up into a standing position. The olerd

jerked back and tilted his head to the other side, turning slightly to get a better view of her.

Keeping him in sight out of the corner of her eye, Pauline raised her hands over her head

and stretched up on her toes, then twirled in place before hopping irst to one side, then

another. She inished by running in a little circle around the middle of the cage, her head

rolling loosely on her shoulders so that her hair fell forward against her face and then back

behind her. As a inale, she did a slow spin into a kneeling position in the middle of the

cage, facing the olerd.

“Ta-da!” she said softly, mostly to herself. As she did, she realized how dry her mouth

felt, her eyes sandy from more than just sleep. How long had it been since she’d had even a

mouthful of water? A day, maybe two, she thought. She caught a hint over-ripe fruit in the

air, but even the vivid image of it in her head couldn’t summon any moisture to her tongue.

The olerd made an odd clucking noise in his throat which Pauline guessed conveyed

amusement. He leaned in closer, twisting his head as it approached the bars of the cage,

one eye and then the other ixed on her. She leaned back unconsciously as the glossy gray

beak approached her. The olerd’s scaly claw grabbed a bar of the cage without warning,

making Pauline squeal and pull her legs in close to her body. He responded by snapping his

beak shut and pulling his head back before turning to look at something below the cage,

out of Pauline’s line of sight. His claw followed his gaze, returning with a small lat oblong

shape. Before she could identify it as food, the olerd had already handed it up to his beak

and begun chewing.

Pauline watched

the olerd for signs he

understood her thirst,

her hunger. Instead,

he watched her in

silence for a while,

occasionally reaching

towards the cage with

one claw or another. In

the distance, the girl thought she heard a chime and noises from the other room. The olerd

gave no sign that he’d heard the chime. Instead, he began bobbing his head back and forth

towards Pauline, his neck arched. With each bob, he moved closer to the cage, his eyes

focused on hers. She felt rooted to the spot, afraid to move for fear he was about to strike at

her face with his sharp beak. He came so close to her that she could feel his breath on her

arms.

Then, without warning, he vomited.

The chewed food hit the loor of the cage with a wet echo and splattered onto

Pauline’s legs. She recoiled from the damp starchiness, but before she moved to clean it

off, she looked up at the olerd’s shiny eyes and thought the better of it. Instead she smiled

weakly and nodded in his direction. He responded by reaching down for another of the lat

wafers, which he grasped tightly while he watched her.

Fighting back disgust at the sodden mass of regurgitated food clinging to her legs,

Pauline scooted forward across the cage until she was up against the bars. Tentatively,

she reached her hand out towards the wafer in the olerd’s claw and looked up at him, a

pleading expression in her eyes. “Please,” she begged, “can I have that? Please?”

Her captor watched her for a moment, eyes glittering. Slowly, and without looking

away, he lifted his claw to his beak and snapped the cracker up, chewing voraciously. He

swallowed quickly with a throaty sound of pleasure. Pauline sobbed once and pulled her

hand back from the bars. She looked down at the soft starchy mass on her legs. Defeated,

she scooped up a wet chunk with two ingers and lifted it to her mouth, gagging as she

swallowed it. The olerd responded with a high pitched squawk of satisfaction. He watched

her choke down two more bites before he left.

In the gloom of the cage, Pauline rocked back and forth, hoping that sleep would

again bring dreams of the forests, of sunlight and warmth and a time before the nets, before

the cage. In the meantime, she licked the starch and saliva and tears from her ingers.

Letter Graded Mail

Sent to garcia@computerhistory.org

By my gentle readers

And what better to start with than a

LoC that covers several months worth

of issues of The Drink Tank from John

Purcell?

Okay, Chris. The semester is inally

over, so here’s the Lloyd Penney-style

loc to end all Lloyd Penney-style locs. Take a deep breath, and let’s do a bit of ketchup, er,

catch-up here. (Your cooking article in my lastest ish (now posted) is lingering in my mind,

drat it all to heck.)

That’s a fun article. I’m happy to say that I’ve continued my experiments.

#204: But of course the right people don’t win the Oscars. It is all one, big self-

congratulatory party. I haven’t seen any of this year’s nominees, so I really don’t care. By

now most of them are available on DVD, which means daughter Penny will be getting them

on Netlix. Fine by me. By the way, Mark Mothersbaugh is a founding member of Devo, but

you knew that, didn’t you?

I watched Rachel Getting Married the other day and it was fantastic and there’s

an argument to make that Anne Hathaway deserved the Oscar and I can certainly

make it! I think Mark Mothersbaugh is probably the best composer for quirky. His

work with Wes Andersen is fantastic. He was pretty much the reason that Devo

existed!

#205: Well, you know all about the Purcell Petting Zoo. We like all animals - except

the untamed wildlife that inhabits our yard (snakes, mole crickets, wheelbugs, etc.). James

Bacon had one heckuva honeymoon going to Africa and getting to see all the beasties. The

closest thing we have here to a lion is Riley, our Main Coon cat. He’s a good size; last week

at the vet Riley tipped the scales at 18 pounds. Down a bit; usually he’s in the low 20’s, but

Main Coons are big cats anyway.

We used to have a pair of Nile Monitors that lived in our laundry room. Someone let

them go and they took up residence, never bothered any one, but they were collected

this year because of the cold weather.

#206: Gawd, but I love Ditmar’s artwork! So wonderful. I still have a batch more on

the CD he sent me, so if you’d like a few more, Chris, let me know and I will ship away.

I am glad you and Linda had a good time at Corlu Zed - sure wish Val and I could

have afforded the trip, but them’s the breaks - and one time you gave us Virtual Lurkers an

unnecessary close-up. Very scary, and almost burned your face into our computer screens.

What a concept: ghost images of Garcia’s face every time I log on. Gad, but that’s gonna

give me nachtmares now...

Well, as far as the FAAn Awards went, at least Askance inished in 5th place, which

is respectable. I am very glad that Earl Kemp’s eI got the Best Fanzine nod, and Bruce

Gillespie is very deserving of his Best Fan Writer. Great winners all around, especially Jean

Martin getting a Best New Fan award. That’s pretty danged good for her.

You’ve seen more Ditmar in Claims Department and I’ve still got about 100 or so

more images on that disk he sent! I was really pleased with the FAAn Awards. I

don’t think I placed top ten in any category. I wish they’d done another Number One

Fan Face like at CorFlu Silver.

#207: We’ll see how the Fan Hugos go this year. Once again, these are the only

categories I care about since I am completely not up on the iction, non-iction, or media

Hugo categories. Well, maybe some of the short-form dramatic presentations, but that’s

probably about it. I am pulling for Taral Wayne for an award, though.

No question that Taral will take home a rocket. I read a little and watch a lot of

the DramPres, but I really care about the Fan Hugos because it’s almost all of my

friends up there! I know I never have a chance of winning one, but I have to admit

that it’s kinda cool being nominated.

#208: Computer games are fun. I haven’t done much playing on them this year what

with my school related work and research taking up most of my time. Oh, well. The Dork

Knight continues to amuse me. I have been enjoying these immensely.

I’ve discovered the Apps on Facebook and MySpace and they’re ready to choke me

with all of their awesomeness. I should start running The Dork Knight again, but

I’ve got to ind the disk that Dann gave me.

#209: I have yet to see Watchmen. That is all I have to say about this particular

issue. From what I have heard, though, it really helps to understand the movie if you have

read the graphic novel or at least are somewhat familiar with the background of the movie.

I still say that it’s worth watching (comes out late in July on DVD) and you can

make it through the ilm and enjoy it without having read the comic.

#210: Another fabulous Ditmar cover, and I do believe it is called “ANother Fake

Bonestell” in honor of Chesley Bonestell’s fantastic covers over the years on F&SF and

other magazines and paperback covers. Only Ditmar could pull this off.

Sandra Childress’s “The Running of the SMoFs” was very enjoyable. Horse racing is

one of my guilty pleasures; not for betting on them, but simply enjoying the beauty of those

magniicent animals. I love horseback riding, must do more of it this summer.

Bryan, Texas has a rather historic theater downtown, too; it is currently being

refurbished for the local theater company, which is good. I love old Art Deco buildings.

If you really want to see some cool old

western architecture, go up Highway 6 to

Calvert, Texas (about 30 miles north of

here). It is home to some of the niftiest Old

West buildings and full of antique shops.

One of these days Val and I plan on

going up there just to spend a Saturday

browsing the shops. Wonder what kind of

old magazines I might ind...?

I love horse racing. I made no money

on the Triple Crown this year, though I

also didn’t lose anything, since my two

buck bets across the board were won

on the Derby with a Place on a pick at

3-to-1, so I’m still positive for the last

decade!

#211: Pretty cover! More Taral

Wayne writing - see Aksance #14 for just

how proliic Taral has been these past

two years - and Howeird’s article was

interesting. No real comment, though,

except that I am not done with my

childhood yet.

He’s been nuts! He’s written more

words than any other writer I can

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