text:
WARNING: This page is full of rage. I vent it here so I don't end up killing people or having four-digit blood pressure or something. If at least one of these things gets banned or one of these people or organizations gets their comeuppance, partially as a result of this list, then I've made a positive contribution to this world.

_You will see obvious things here._ This page isn't just for original thoughts. Indeed, I'm not famous for original thought. That's okay, because this page's target audience also includes people for whom the stuff is not obvious. It also includes the people and organizations named on this page.

These are not opinions; they are objective statements of fact. I am the final arbitrer on these matters. If you are any of the following people, or support any of the following things, seek psychiatric help and find something useful, good, and meaningful to do. There is hope.

2009-05-08

-   Auto warranty robocallers.
    -   Robocalling is just _creepy_, first of all.
    -   They robocall cellphones. This is illegal.
    -   They are also scammers.
    -   Go nuts!
-   The Texas Board of Education, for allowing creationist beliefs to pollute science educaiton.
-   The anti-vaccination movement. These people believe that vaccines cause autism, ADHD, and other ailments, even though no medical research backs this up. These people then proceed to not vaccinate their babies. These are not the only people endangering childrens' lives out of willful ignorance...
-   Homeopathy, its practitioners, and its proponents. These people believe that diluting medicine actually makes it more powerful. Its inventor, Samuel Hahnemann, would dilute preparations to "60C". This is homeopathic terminology for ONE PART PER 10⁶⁰. ONE PART PER NOVEMDECILLION. According to Wikipedia, "on average, this would require giving two billion doses per second to six billion people for 4 billion years to deliver a single molecule of the original material to any patient."

    There are numerous stories about people who either died as a direct result of eschewing clinically proven medicine in favor of homeopathic remedies or simply wasted time pursuing homeopathic treatment instead of attempting to enjoy the last few moments of their very lives. This one of an infant dying of eczema is particularly horrific.

-   Tomas Norström, the judge who presided over the Pirate Bay trials, DESPITE BEING A MEMBER OF AT LEAST FOUR "COPYRIGHT PROTECTION" ORGANIZATIONS.
-   The Parents Television Council. These people waste government resources by spamming the FCC with complaints over indecent content. In 2003, 166,683 indecency complaints were filed with the FCC. 99.8% of the complaints were filed by the Parents Television Council. This is not a typo. Ninety-nine and eight-tenths of a percent.
-   Feature Films for Families a/k/a The Dove Foundation. These are the people who placed telemarketing calls to people on the National Do Not Call Registry to advertise the "Velveteen Rabbit" movie.
-   Classmates dot com.They send creepy spam "former classmates are trying to contact you" emails to people when this is not true. Prospective customers are required to pay for a premium membership in order to read the alleged messages, only to find out that they are being lied to.
-   Reunion dot com. They also send creepy spam "former classmates are trying to contact you" emails. They also provide you with a form where you fill your webmail username and password. They then proceed to spam every single one of your contacts without notifying you.

2009-02-24

-   People opposed to plasma centers. I am not making this up.

2009-01-23

-   People who oppose embryonic stem cell research.

2009-01-13

-   Non-free wi-fi at coffee shops. I've only seen certain chain coffee shops *cough*Starbucks*cough* do this. Local mom-and-pop operations are somehow profitable enough to provide free wi-fi. Which is not surprising, because (a) decent broadband can be had for $50/month or less, and (b) a decent wireless AP/router can be had for $100 or less and (c) shouldn't cost more than a few hours' worth of labor to set up with porn blocking, a splash screen, etc. And I'm being generous.

2009-01-11

-   Applebee's.
-   Outback Steakhouse.
-   TGI Friday's.
-   Buckhead Mountain Grill.
-   Chili's.
-   Tumbleweed.

2008-12-31

-   Any name for a software-related product that starts with "Active". ActiveSync. ActiveX. Active Record.

2008-12-10

-   Non-open protocols. There is no legitimate justification for them. The argument that they might "reveal the secrets" behind a product is bogus. It's just another ploy to make money that excludes free software. That's it.

2008-12-09

-   People who ask, “what's the point of non-alcoholic beer?” I'm susceptible to low blood sugar when drinking alcohol, so I have to exercise caution with that stuff. That's the point. And chances are, if you're one of those people, you haven't tried tried Kaliber. It's one of the less bitter ones. I quite like it. Warsteiner Premium Fresh is also quite good for an NA.

2008-12-01

-   Job interview questions that start with “Describe a time when you...”.

2008-11-07

-   Windows that cannot be opened. Some office buildings have them. I'll grant an exception to skyscrapers.

2008-10-28

-   IM client emoticon expansion

2008-10-27

-   Klavika - It's that font that Facebook and Best Buy use for their logos and Intel uses for their marketing.
-   Tekton

2008-09-02

-   Free Triple Score dot com

2008-08-25

-   _Deal or No Deal_.

2008-08-13

-   Landlords who don't allow pets.
-   Television commercials that are designed to look like news.
-   Free credit report dot com. (NOTE: Actual legitimate free credit reports can be obtained at annualcreditreport.com.)

2008-08-12

-   Church bells that aren't really bells at all, but are speakers or something.
-   Microsoft SharePoint. A giant enterprisey software package that provides poor implementations of wikis, bulletin boards, etc. Those things are better served by individual software packages that are more robust and provide more features. Authors of those individual software packages are more in tune with the needs of people who need those things. Vendors of packages like SharePoint think in terms of "business requirements", "focus groups", "checklists of features", etc. so they are more in tune with the things that enterprise customers SAY they need, which are typically out of sync with what they actually need. SharePoint is yet another instance of Microsoft providing to us by counterexample that the Unix philosophy ("do one thing and do it well") is the correct approach to building software.

2008-08-09

-   MediaSentry and MediaDefender. Filled with unethical black hats from top to bottom.
-   Idiots who see the words "EXIT ONLY" on an exit door from an establishment, yet continue to try to enter the building using that door. Also, if you are inside such an establishment, and decide to let aforementioned people in, you are a tool.
-   Censorware that categorizes sites like TinyURL as "hacking tool" or "proxy".
-   The War On Drugs. Read _Reefer Madness_ and _Drug Crazy_ if you do not yet realize that the war is a complete failure on all counts. You'll see a longer rant on this topic here eventually. But don't take it from me.
    -   Take it from the guy who once ran the UK's war on drugs.
    -   Or Seattle's former police chief.

2008-08-04

-   The word _webinar_.
-   Asset forfeiture.
-   "Police" departments that recover stolen property and put it on auction instead of returning it to its rightful owner.

2008-07-30

-   go daddy dot com, for suspending the domain seclists.org at the request of MySpace instead of simply asking the site's owner to remove a list of usernames and passwords from the site. The list was automatically added to the site because someone posted it to a mailing list that the site auto-archives. Go Daddy: you could have simply asked the site's maintainer to remove the posting from the online archives, but chose to overreact. For that, you deserve to go out of business.
-   Patrick Pogan, the rookie NYPD officer who intentionally body-slammed a random bicyclist at a Critical Mass ride. Mr. Pogan also lied in his report, claiming that the bicyclist was aiming for him. The video is prima facie evidence to the contrary.

2008-07-19

-   That plastic packaging they wrap around things like SD cards, that's so difficult to open. UPDATE: Apparently this is called _clamshell packaging_.

2008-06-25

-   Experts hyphen exchange dot com.
-   The fact that milk starts to stink _before_ it turns sour.
-   Web forms that don't accept email addresses containing a plus sign. The programmers responsible for this usually fall under two categories:
    1.  They are actually unsavvy enough to not realize that people use them.
    2.  They know that people use them but don't care.
-   Words other than "sandwich" that end with "wich". This includes "fishwich", "unwinch", "slimwich", etc. These are made-up marketroid words that are awkward to pronounce and serve no purpose other than to make the people who say them sound like tools. At least one restaurant chain also uses "wrapini". Can't you people come up with better portmanteaus?
-   People who pronounce the word "harass" as "HAIR-ess" (rhymes with "heiress"), or in any other way that doesn't sound like "her-ASS". The fact that "her ass" and "harass" are pronounced exactly the same is entirely coincendental, and if you have a problem with this, you are uptight and need help.

    Actually, this one is particularly insidious because there are a lot of people who do this. It's gotten so bad that I'm scared I'll do this if I hear enough other people do it. So if you catch me doing this, feel free to interrupt the conversation and say, "Excuse me, Darren, it's her-ASS, you dumbass." Feel free to follow that up with a comment about your lack of realization that I had sand in my vagina, or something. Thanks.

Older

-   Neoconservatives
-   Microsoft's business practices
-   Microsoft's philosophy about everything
-   Microsoft Windows
-   Microsoft OOXML
-   Microsoft Windows Mobile
-   Microsoft Visual anything
-   Microsoft Internet Explorer
-   Microsoft CRM
-   All Microsoft products not mentioned (fonts excluded)
-   See a pattern here?
-   Tailgating (as in following someone too closely)
-   Gastroesophageal Reflux Disease
-   Getting a rack with five Is in Scrabble
-   PHP
-   Changing lanes without signaling
-   The Religious Right
-   Milquetoast Democrats
-   Not waking up because you accidentally set your alarm for 7:30 P.M. instead of A.M.
-   The smell of malt vinegar
-   Digital ~~Rights~~ Restrictions Management
-   Diabetes
-   Bloatware
-   Clear Channel Communications
-   Devices that take SD cards, but only up to 2GB
-   Wearing shorts and tucking your shirt in (golfers and bicyclists excepted)
-   Bad analogies
-   Rain (except while I'm sleeping)
-   Snow
-   Tornadoes
-   Temperatures deviating from 72°F
-   Java. The language itself is good for a language that isn't great, but everything else associated with it is bloatware.
-   How most people can't handwrite an ampersand
-   Shared hosting
-   Fluorescent lightbulbs that flicker
-   Color-blindness
-   Insensitivity to color-blindness
-   The television show _Club TV USA_
-   Day-quil. That stuff makes me vomit, you see.
-   Wendy's "Honey Sauce". Are they too cheap to just use honey?
-   Products labeled "Made With Real Fruit Juice" that only contain 2% fruit juice
-   Lung cancer
-   Ticketmaster
-   The Hummer H2
-   The Hummer H3
-   The Cadillac Escalade
-   The Chrysler PT Cruiser
-   The Pontiac Aztek
-   The Buick Rendezvous
-   Southeast Christian Church
-   Littering
-   Talk radio callers
-   IT recruiters
-   Radio and most TV commercials
-   Mobile home parks within 10 miles of the city
-   Outsourcing computer programming to cheaper labor
-   Constantly referencing _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_ or that skit about Spam.
-   The Recording Industry Association of America
-   How Louisville's #18 bus used to be always late
-   The Creation Museum
-   Sports talk radio (except for Jim Rome)
-   When a half-gallon of milk costs $1.39 and a gallon costs more than $2.78
-   Dane Cook, and the people who think he's funny
-   Caffeine withdrawal headaches
-   Indiana's "In God We Trust" license plates
-   Links on web pages that don't have underlines and/or are too close to the same color as the text
-   IDEs
-   Text editors that are not emacs, vi, ed, or teco
-   Top-posting in emails and online discussions
-   Abstinence-only sex education
-   Web-based control panels
-   Elevators that don't ride smootly
-   When people put those removable letters on signs and mount the S upside-down
-   Slogans. Like. This.
-   Rubber dome keyboards
-   Products whose names contain "OS" but are not operating systems. Examples: WebSiteOS (one of the crappiest web-based control panels ever), HTML/OS (a crappy programming language)
-   Sam Brownback
-   Splinters
-   Hypoglycemia
-   Homophobes
-   Bans on gay marriage.
-   IHTML
-   Kenny G
-   Compacta
-   John Duncan
-   ColdFusion
-   Fox News Channel
-   The fact that Cherokee Unit No. 5 is no longer a municipality in Jefferson County, Kentucky. It was the best sixth-class city name, ever, you see.
-   Gambling that does not involve games of skill
-   People who find it perfectly acceptable to legislate against gambling that does not involve games of skill
-   The lyrics to "On The Roof Again" by Eve 6
-   People who hate Arial
-   Powdered non-dairy creamer, a/k/a _beverage whitener_
-   Panhandlers
-   The suburbs
-   Most uses of XML, including but not limited to the following:
    -   Web Services
-   8664
-   That "Five Dollar Foot Long" song from the Subway commercials. That song needs to get out my head.
-   People who think that Terry Meiners is funny.
-   1024x768 web design
-   Ben Stein.
-   Florida.
-   "Fn Lock" on computer keyboards.
-   That overly perky female voice you hear on the grocery store intercom pimping products you don't need.
-   Simon Leis
-   Coinstar machines that don't have the "gift card with free coin counting" option.
-   Telemarketers
-   Smartphones that have non-QWERTY keyboards.
-   A two-fer:
    -   Bluetooth Earpieces. It's not the 24th century, and you're not Buck Rogers.
    -   People who walk around with their cellphones in speakerphones mode.
-   The use of the word “viral” to describe videos posted on the Internet.
-   Monster Cable Products, Inc.
-   MP3 players that don't mount as standard "USB storage" hard drives.
-   People who still use MapQuest. It's not 1997 anymore.
-   People who _always_ order sweet and sour chicken at Chinese restaurants.
-   Shrinkwrapping on CDs
-   Those stickers along the top of CDs
-   Those paper towel dispensers at the restrooms that require you to press one button then press the other button twice and then only dispense ONE TOWEL.
-   Subject-line-only emails
-   Web sites that show all their content to Google to get indexed, but require exhorbitant fees for people to view it.
-   Scribd dot com
-   The "Chrysler $2.99 Gas Price Guarantee" scam.

question: Why does the author criticize The Texas Board of Education?

answer: The author criticizes The Texas Board of Education for allowing creationist beliefs to pollute science education.

question: Why does the author criticize homeopathy?

answer: Because many people either died as a result of using homeopathic remedies instead of clinically proven medicine or simply wasted time pursuing homeopathic treatment.

question: Why does the author criticize Classmates dot com.?

answer: Because they spam "former classmates are trying to contact you" emails to people when this is not true.

question: Why does the author criticize the war on drugs?

answer: Because the war on drugs is a complete failure on all counts.

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: The author makes a long list of things that he criticizes. Some of them are the Texas Board of Education (for allowing creationist beliefs to pollute science education), the anti-vaccination movement (for endangering childrens' lives), homeopathy, Classmates dot com. (for sending spams), Reunion dot com. (for the same reason), people who oppose embryonic stem cell research, non-free wi-fi at coffee shops, homophobes, the Parents Television Council (for wasting government resources by spamming the FFC),  "Police" departments that recover stolen property (for putting it on auction instead of returning it to its rightful owner), etc.


split: train

text:
I'm taking a story writing class and this is my first short story. Can I get some honest critiques?

I kneeled down onto the dusty, wooden floor and scrubbed with all of my might. The veins in my arms bulged and the floor creaked under me, but I could not get the blood stain out from the night before. Papa had been drinking all day yesterday and decided to slice Peter, our brother, on his cheek with a sharp blade. There was no reason behind it, I’m sure, but these days he didn’t need a reason to lash out on any of us.  I wiped the sweat off of my furrowed brow and tried even harder.  I heard faint footsteps in the distance and silently hoped it was not my father.

“Zoya!” my father yelled sternly. He was a former Soviet soldier; a tall, burly man who smelled of vodka and musk.  “Yes, papa?” I lifted the greasy mop of black hair from my face and looked straight at him. He tugged me by my tattered collar and got within an inch of my face. “I am so fucking sick of this dirty house. You’ve been on this floor for 3 hours and you haven’t even cleaned up a damn thing.” I muttered an apology and his face contorted with anger. He grunted at me and said “You are absolutely worthless to me, little girl. Your existence has wasted sixteen years of my life.”

He dragged me out of the hallway to the back of the house where he usually sat and drank silently. He lifted my skirt and with four fluid movements, he whacked my bottom with his “special belt.” The belt was passed down to him by his father.  It was made of cracked leather and had fourteen razorblades wedged into the side of it, which left horrible cuts if you were ever punished with it.  When he was finished, he shoved me to the side. I straightened my skirt and rushed back to the kitchen to finish cleaning.

~~~

Mama and Papa were so irrevocably in love with each other and they were proud of the family that they had together. Papa worked in the factory and Mama stayed at home to clean and take care of the children. We’d spend our afternoons in the park singing, talking about the old days, and Mama would tell us the same old story about the day she met Papa. Tears would well up in her eyes and you could tell just how much she loved him. There was never a day when Papa came home from work without a warm welcoming from everyone. Mama’s eyes would light up and all of the children would run into his arms. Life was perfect.

Life changed drastically when she died. It was the summer of nineteen ninety-four and she had just given birth to our sister Irina. We knew something was wrong the day they both came back from the hospital. Mama didn’t even want to hold her and refused to do anything but sit in her room. Day after day, for about a month, she’d just sit in front of her window crying. She wouldn’t speak or eat and there was not a doctor in town that could tell us what was wrong with her.

One evening, after having spent all day in the park with my brother, I walked into my house and saw a sight that I would never forget for the rest of my life. The putrid smell of death overcame me and as I stepped into the washroom; I saw my mother. She had been lying there for the entire latter half of the day and her nightdress was stained with coagulated blood. Her body, limp and lifeless, was pale and covered in tiny flecks of what we thought was her brain. Her head had been blown into tiny chunks that littered the side of the wall and in one of her arms was Papa’s old hunting rifle. I dropped to my knees, laid my head in her lap, and cried until Papa came home.

~~~

That was the day that everything changed for us. Papa had to bury the love of his life and was left with 3 children to take care of. He quit his job and started drinking, leaving Peter and I to pick up the slack. I stayed at home with Peter; we cleaned, cooked, and took care of Irina; but matter what we did, Papa would always find fault in it. If he was even remotely angry,  he would take it out on us. He’d find the nearest thing he could use as a weapon and beat us senselessly.

It has been this way for seven years now. It seems as though every day is getting worse and worse. Sometimes I think that I’d rather die than be subject to his wrath.

About two hours later, I finally cleaned up the last bit of Peter’s blood off of the floor. I shoved my cleaning supplies into the cupboard under the sink and shuffled towards the garden behind the house. Peter and Irina were in the garden scooping potatoes out of the soil with their bare hands. “Hey, what are you up to?” I said, he looked at me solemnly. I tousled his shaggy brown hair then picked Irina up and placed her in my lap. “Papa beat you again, didn’t he?” he asked. “Yeah, but it isn’t like it’s the first time. Plus, it was kind of my fault anyway. I just couldn’t get the floor clean.” He stood up and looked down at me. “Are you really that stupid? You think it is okay for him to do that shit to you?” He scoffed and stormed into the house, slamming the door behind him. I looked down at the earth beneath me. Tears fell down my face and quickly disappeared into the soil. Irina wiped a tear away from my face and smiled at me.

Her smile turned into a twisted face of horror within two seconds. Papa was stumbling violently out of the house with his infamous belt. He had been drinking again and I couldn’t understand a word of his drunken tirade. He lashed Irina right in the face, ripping her delicate skin off. He grabbed a hold of her neck, bent her over the fence, and smacked her again and again. I tried blocking her from his lashings, but he threw me to the side and kept on going. Her violent screams faded into soft whimpers. I peered over at her little blonde curls that were stained with blood. Her fair skin was cut to pieces and Papa would not let go of his grip on her neck. “Papa, you’re going to kill her! Stop!” I yelled, as I lunged over to protect her. He started to beat me with the belt; the razorblades cutting into my sides sent searing pain throughout my whole body. I looked down at Irina’s limp body and brushed the hair out of her face. Her eyes were swollen shut and her face was unrecognizable. I put my hand to her heart and it was not beating. I began sobbing uncontrollably. “You fucking killed her, Papa! Why?” I held her in my arms and looked up at him. He stared blankly at me for what seemed like forever. His lips began to quiver and a single tear dropped down his old, worn out face.

Out of nowhere, I heard the distinct sound of Papa’s old hunting rifle being cocked. Three loud shots rang out and Papa dropped to the ground.

if you've made it this far, thanks for reading. i appreciate it.

title: Toska (My first short story)

question: Summarize the relationship the narrator and his siblings had with their Papa.

answer: The narrator and her siblings were scared of their Papa. Their Papa was an alcoholic who would beat them everyday after being drunk. The children had to cook and clean and take care of their baby sister by themselves but would still receive brutal beatings by their Papa.

question: Summarize the narrator's feelings towards the life she had and what she thought about the beatings her and her siblings got.

answer: The narrator was quite upset with the life she was living at home. She even said she sometimes thought she would rather die than be subject to their dad's wrath and being brutally beaten. She felt even more angry when her brother thought he deserved a beaten and she stated that it is not okay for their dad to do that to them. The narrator was also very protective about her dad beating her little sister.

question: If the narrator's Papa was shot to death, would the narrator and siblings feel better?


text:
“I couldn’t tell you what happened or why,

I can only tell you what I felt and why it affected me so."

Electric pulses shot through the air. I could feel them in my fingertips.

They began to permeate every blood vessel and vein,

until I felt like one pulsating organ; hot, heavy, and overwhelmed.

All at once the blackness hit.

I was icy again;

back to the normal numbness I felt from day to day,

no emotions and soulless.

Strangely I felt whole for once, like I was finally complete,

like I had risen to a higher plane of existence, another state of being.

Then, I woke up.

I was holding bloody clumps of hair. It was a ratty and tangled mess.

I threw it down in disgust, and ground it into the dirt with my foot.

I thought I could make it disappear.

I looked up to see a blood stained manifestation of human staring back at me.

You could have sensed that she was dirty, beaten, battered, bruised, and broken

just by the sadness in her eyes.

I wondered if I had committed this heinous act towards such an ethereal creature.

I instantly felt shame at the mere possibility.

I reached out, just to touch her, to hold her, to mend her,

to whisper that everything was going to be alright.

My hand stopped when I touched glass.

I realized what I had been looking at with such remorse and affection

was simply myself reflected.

"That’s when I fainted.”

The doctor raised his left eyebrow, glanced at the clock,

sighed at the forty five minutes left in our session,

then whispered in his sing-song voice,

“And how does that make you feel?”

title: ethereal.

question: Where is the narrator?

answer: The narrator is in a psychiatrist's room.

question: Who is the bloodied and beaten woman?

answer: It is a reflection of the narrator.

question: How could the narrator tell that the woman was beaten?

answer: By the sadness in her eyes

question: How does the narrator feel on a normal day?

answer: Soulless with no emotions.

question: Why did the narrator throw the clumps of hair onto the ground?

answer: She thought she could make it disappear.

question: What was the initial response of the narrator to the woman?

answer: She wondered whether she had had hurt the beaten and bloodied woman.


text:
[Rhode Island lawmakers propose banning ‘ex-gay’ therapy]

Photo: Daniel Gonzalez via Flickr.com

PROVIDENCE, R.I. (AP) — Proposals working through Rhode Island’s legislature could ban what’s called “conversion therapy,” a practice aimed at changing young people’s sexual orientation or gender identity.

Bills have been introduced by Democrats in the state Senate and House of Representatives to prohibit psychologists, social workers and other licensed health care professionals from using practices that treat homosexuality as an illness and try to cure it in children under 18 years old.

The House bill had its first hearing Wednesday and was held by a health committee for further study. The Senate bill was introduced Wednesday and is awaiting its first hearing.

Similar laws exist in several other states, including Vermont, which enacted a ban last year.

It’s not clear if there are any licensed clinicians in Rhode Island who practice conversion therapy.

© 2017, Associated Press, All Rights Reserved.
This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.

New Hampshire bill would add nondiscrimination protections for trans people

__ Previous article

Court rejects straight couple’s discrimination claim over civil union rejection

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question: Why did Rhode Island and Vermont legislatures consider banning conversion therapy practice?

answer: It is not stated.

question: What negative effects does conversion therapy have on young people.

answer: It is not stated.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: This article talks about the plan to ban the practice of conversion therapy by social workers, psychologists, and other licensed health care professionals in Rhode Island alongside Vermont and other states in the U.S. However, it is not certain if there are licensed health care professionals that practice conversion therapy.


text:
He pinched the sweaty glass between his thumb and middle finger, swirling the last watered down sip of regret. His other elbow was firmly planted on the bar, propping up his shame and providing a perch for a smouldering cigarette.
The air was saturated with silky strands of smoke from all of the broken machines occupying the bar. It was a sickening environment.

The last swig went back fast and was swallowed hard. His still moist fingertips took on a new task and swept inwards, drawing across closed eyelids and meeting with a squeeze at the bridge of his nose. "Why now?" He rhetorically asked himself. "Why the fuck does it fall apart now?"
He caught himself anxiously bouncing his leg, and upon stopping, all the motion and subconscious thought reverberated back inside, cutting through the alcoholic haze to agitate an already over-burdened mind. He cracked.

With a quivering lip he murmured "thanks" to the bartender and dropped the crumpled up twenty dollar bills beside the ashtray. He stood up, fumbled pathetically with his jacket zipper, and made for the door while fighting back tears. Ignoring two familiar faces as drove through the doorway, and into the damp rainy darkness. Street lights glistened on the wet pavement, and, having no cover, the rain allowed him to let the tears flow without prejudice.

 With his face buried in his collar, he began his somber drudge home to an empty house, and in the midst of it all, allowed himself one minor thought of luxury: "There's always tomorrow".

title: Hi, all. First post and a short one: "Last call."

question: Describe the man in the story.

answer: The man is a habitual drunk who has found his way to the bottom of a bottle. On his way home he resigns himself to the fact that 'There's always tomorrow.'

question: Should we believe the man will change his ways?

answer: No. The man clearly makes a routine of his actions in the tale.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: A drunk man heads home after a night of drinking. He says goodbye to the bartender and whilst out in the cold he thinks that 'There's always tomorrow.'


text:
In 1999 season, There were two Korean League Cup competitions. One is Adidas Cup 1999 and the other is Daehan Fire Insurance Cup 1999.
This article is regarding Daehan Fire Insurance Cup 1999

Tournament was started March 31 and ended May 23, 1999.

Final table

Group A

{{#invoke:sports table|main|style=WL PK |section=Group A |showOTwin=y |showPKloss=n |OTwin_header= |PKwin_header= |OTwinpoints=2 |PKwinpoints=1

|team1=SSB|name_SSB=Suwon Samsung Bluewings |team2=PDR|name_PDR=Pusan Daewoo Royals |team3=BCH|name_BCH=Bucheon SK |team4=DJC|name_DJC=Daejeon Citizen |team5=PHS|name_PHS=Pohang Steelers |win_SSB=4|OTwin_SSB=1|PKwin_SSB=0|loss_SSB=3|gf_SSB=14|ga_SSB=8 |win_PDR=4|OTwin_PDR=1|PKwin_PDR=0|loss_PDR=3|gf_PDR=9|ga_PDR=10 |win_BCH=4|OTwin_BCH=0|PKwin_BCH=0|loss_BCH=4|gf_BCH=11|ga_BCH=10 |win_DJC=3|OTwin_DJC=0|PKwin_DJC=0|loss_DJC=5|gf_DJC=8|ga_DJC=10 |win_PHS=3|OTwin_PHS=0|PKwin_PHS=0|loss_PHS=5|gf_PHS=10|ga_PHS=14

|col_A=#ccffcc|text_A= |result1=A|result2=A |update=complete|source= }}

Group B

{{#invoke:sports table|main|style=WL PK |section=Group B |showOTwin=y |showPKloss=n |OTwin_header= |PKwin_header= |OTwinpoints=2 |PKwinpoints=1

|team1=USH|name_USH=Ulsan Hyundai Horang-i |team2=CIC|name_CIC=Cheonan Ilhwa Chunma |team3=JHM|name_JHM=Chonbuk Hyundai Dinos |team4=LGC|name_LGC=Anyang LG Cheetahs |team5=CHD|name_CHD=Chunnam Dragons |win_USH=4|OTwin_USH=1|PKwin_USH=0|loss_USH=3|gf_USH=12|ga_USH=10 |win_CIC=4|OTwin_CIC=0|PKwin_CIC=1|loss_CIC=3|gf_CIC=11|ga_CIC=11 |win_JHM=3|OTwin_JHM=1|PKwin_JHM=0|loss_JHM=4|gf_JHM=14|ga_JHM=11 |win_LGC=3|OTwin_LGC=1|PKwin_LGC=0|loss_LGC=4|gf_LGC=8|ga_LGC=9 |win_CHD=1|OTwin_CHD=0|PKwin_CHD=1|loss_CHD=6|gf_CHD=8|ga_CHD=12

|col_A=#ccffcc|text_A= |result1=A|result2=A |update=complete|source= |class_rules=Win gets 3, in extra time win gets 2, PK win get 1 point. }}

Result

Group A result

ROUND 1

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ROUND 2

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ROUND 3

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ROUND 4

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ROUND 5

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ROUND 6

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ROUND 7

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ROUND 8

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ROUND 9

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ROUND 10

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Group B result

ROUND 1

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ROUND 2

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ROUND 3

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ROUND 4

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ROUND 5

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ROUND 6

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ROUND 7

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ROUND 8

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ROUND 9

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ROUND 10

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Knockout stage

Semi-finals

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Final

1ST LEG 2ND LEG

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Winner

title: 1999 Korean League Cup (Supplementary Cup)

question: How many Korean League Cup competitions were there in 1999?

answer: There were two Korean League Cup competitions in 1999.

question: What were the names of the Korean League Cup competitions in 1999?

answer: The two Korean League Cup competitions were the Adidas Cup and the Daehan Fire Insurance Cup.

question: Which Cup competition is this article about?

answer: This article is about the Daehan Fire Insurance Cup.

question: When was the Daehan Fire Insurance Cup started?

answer: The Daehan Fire Insurance Cup was started on March 31st, 1999.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: There were two championship cups for the Korean League Cup in 1999, the Adidas Cup and the Daehan Fire Insurance Cup. The Daehan Fire Insurance Cup was started on March 31st and went until May 23rd, 1999.


text:
Speaking on the advancements in NVIDIA G-Sync this week at CES 2014, the team once again appeared to be repeating everything they’d suggested earlier this year in Montreal – but NVIDIA never stops at a repeat, of course.

Speaking about how “the buzz is incredible” on G-Sync, NVIDIA CEO Jen-Hsun Huang showed a bit of the Red Bull Battle Grounds for 2013 saw the system – and called it “****ing awesome”. It’s clear that NVIDIA is seeing backing for this technology from a variety of users and creators – that’s the message, anyway.

Speaking up about how a number of companies – Acer, AOC, ASUS, BenQ, and more – will be bringing three different G-Sync monitors to the market this summer. While we’ve not seen exact pricing on these monitors quite yet, it’s clear that there’s more than just a little bit of support coming from the manufacturer side of this equation.

Have a peek at our CES tag portal right this minute and jump down the gaming rabbit hole. This is only the beginning for NVIDIA, too – mobile, gaming, tablets, smartphones, and cars, too!

question: What bit of technology did the CEO of NVIDIA like very much?

answer: The Red Bull Battle Grounds for 2013.

question: What is CES?

answer: Consumer Electronics Show, a technology event.

question: Who is the CEO of NVIDIA?

answer: Jen-Hsun Huang.

question: How many companies were expected to bring varieties of g-sync monitors to the market?

answer: Several tech companies.

question: Write a ~1 sentence summary.

answer: An article about NVIDIA G-sync technology at the CES 2014.


text:
The _Zenith_ was a small ship, with a complement of thirty men and women and little room for cargo. She had seven white sails that carried her all over the civilized world. When Dominic saw the ship, the thing that struck him most was artistry of it. By his estimation, half of the crew members must have been tasked with keeping every piece of wood freshly painted and every piece of gleaming metal polished. There were thin sheets of silver engraved with elaborate designs all over the ship, in the same style as Welexi’s ruined armor, and carved wooden accents that displayed organic curls. The ship’s railings were heavily lacquered, with none of the dents, gouges, or simple weathering that might be expected of a ship that saw regular use. And attached to the bow of the ship was an elaborate sculpture of glass, clearly Vidre’s work. It showed a muscular man reaching forward, a fragile glass finger extended in front of him, as though he was trying to touch the horizon. There were no cannons, and nothing of its design suggested it was anything more than a work of art. Yet it was said to be the fastest ship in the world, able to outpace naval flagships and express packet boats alike.

The palanquin was carried past a line of watchful crew members, to a spot that had been cleared on the dock. Welexi stepped out to the roar of the crowds. He gave a low, somber bow to them, then raised his mangled hand to the sky. He’d used the light to shape a defiant fist. Blood streamed down his forearm, though it wouldn’t have been visible from a distance. Dominic followed Welexi up the plank and onto the deck of the _Zenith_, and his appearance drew another cheer from the crowd; the story had traveled ahead of them. There were hardly any waves, but Dominic felt unsteady on his feet—nearly as unsteady as Welexi looked. Welexi moved across the deck of the ship like a drunkard, down into the cabin, and gestured for Dominic to follow.

The crew watched them duck into the bowels of the ship without comment. They all wore identical white uniforms, finely tailored and far better than Dominic would have expected to see on a sailor. They had silvered buttons down the front of their jackets, and blue trim around their throats and cuffs. In the stories that were told about Welexi—the ones that took place at sea—the crew were nameless and faceless. With their appearance, it was easy to see how they could fade into the background, like they were just another piece of the ship’s elaborate decorations. They even had similar haircuts. Dominic was keenly aware of his sweat-stained tunic and his shaggy hair.

The interior of the ship was used economically. The corridor that divided up the living space was only large enough for a single person to walk down, and then not without a bit of care. Welexi had already moved into the room at the far end, and Dominic followed. By the time he came in, Welexi was laying on a wide bed and bleeding onto white cotton sheets.

A woman in glass armor stood over him. She had blond hair with a tint of red to it, which was pulled back in a simple braid. The armor was as clear as crystal, and a white blouse showed through beneath it. Glass was Vidre’s domain, and where the armor would be suicidal on a normal person, on her it was both an impeccable defense and a potentially lethal weapon. She was famed for taking two glass daggers into battle, one in each hand, but those were nowhere to be seen at the moment. She had a thick white scar on the side of her face which passed through her brow and down her cheek, but it didn’t mar her—if anything, it made her look more distinctive, more beautiful, and hinted at her dangerous nature. Dominic had heard dozens of stories about her, and now he was in the same room with the Lady Vidre. She had as many names as Welexi: the Queen of Glass, the Whore of Abalon, the Childish Bride, the Princess of Blades, Sharddriver, Thornscraper, the Hand of Pane. She glanced briefly at Dominic when he entered, but barely seemed to register him.

“Are you going to die?” asked Vidre.

“No,” replied Welexi. “I don’t think so. I lost more blood than is probably good for me, and my leg’s broken, held together only by light. My arm too. That will heal. My fingers won’t.” He held up his mangled hand, with the fingers of light still formed into a fist. Only his pinky finger remained, and he was missing most of his palm. “I should have picked them up, so Gael could stick them back on. Send someone to fetch them. Or send someone to make a story out of them. Some urchins probably took them as soon as it was clear it wouldn’t cost them their lives, but you might be able to retrieve them.”

A short man with red hair and a bright green apron came into the small cabin, which really wasn’t suited for three people to stand around in, and clucked his tongue. He carried a leather bag filled with metal instruments, gauze, and small bottles. Dominic had followed the stories of the illustrati well enough to recognize him too; he was a doctor by the name of Gael Mottram. He only had the one name: Red Angel. He had a dark history, though the stories were vague about what it was he had done, and when they weren’t vague, they seemed too disturbing to believe. Experiments, they said. He was another living legend, a man who could kill with a touch. His domain was flesh. Dominic took an involuntary step backward.

“I came as soon as I got Vidre’s message,” said Gael. He laid a hand on Welexi. “It’s bad.” He turned to Vidre and Dominic. “Out, while I deal with my patient.”

“Wait,” said Welexi. “There are things I need to speak of with my young protege.”

“I’m not—” began Vidre.

“Dominic de Luca saved my life,” said Welexi. Gael and Vidre turned and looked at Dominic. “He is to be given our full resources, and a place on the ship, not as crew, but as one of us. We’re elevating him.”

Gael muttered under his breath and began tending to Welexi. Dominic’s eyes went wide when Gael used his power on Welexi’s ruined hand. The bloody flesh folded in on itself and twisted around exposed bone, then slid back over it. Shattered pieces of bone fell onto the bloodstained bed. Welexi cried out in pain and hissed through his teeth. There was an angry red line where the sword had cut through his hand, but the bleeding at least had stopped. Gael began unstrapping Welexi’s armor without much comment. Vidre had turned away as soon as Gael had made his move, and she was staring at Dominic rather than looking at the triage.

“Does he have any standing?” asked Vidre.

“He will,” said Welexi. He was sweating, and his voice didn’t quite reach the casual calm that he clearly intended.

“Does he have a useful domain?” asked Vidre.

“I have no idea,” said Welexi.

“It’s shadow,” said Dominic.

The room was silent for a few moments, and then Welexi began to laugh. “Shadow and light, a story for the ages!” he said. His voice was weak, but he was smiling.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” said Gael. He turned to the others. “We can talk about these developments later. The flesh is all healed, but I count ten broken bones, maybe eleven, and he’s low on blood. He won’t get any rest unless I put him out. He can’t help but push himself.”

Vidre pushed past Dominic, and he followed her as she went down the corridor and into a different, smaller room near the middle of the ship. She folded a seat down from the wall for him, and sat cross-legged on her bed. All around the room was glass—small figurines which sat on top of the shelves, long cylinders of glass that were held in place by leather straps, and a jar of glass marbles tucked beneath the bed.

“Dominic de Luca,” said Vidre, like she was feeling the name with her mouth. “Tell me what happened.”

“There was a fight,” Dominic said. He’d heard the stories about Vidre and what she could do with those daggers. He’d also heard stories about what lay beneath that glass armor. He folded his arms across his chest. “Welexi and Zerstor.”

“The story preceded you,” said Vidre. “Details.”

“I don’t know how or where it started, but Welexi came falling out of the sky, straight through the clouds, with his wings breaking into pieces behind him,” said Dominic. “He hit the statue of Gennaro. I thought he was dead. He woke up just in time for Zerstor to come bounding across the city. They talked. A few guards came, and Zerstor killed them. And then they fought. It was … tentative, then fast. Welexi was injured from the fall, or from what came before it. He—he turned into light at one point.”

“He gave himself armor of light?” asked Vidre with a raised eyebrow.

“No,” said Dominic, shaking his head and remembering being nearly blinded. “He turned into light, just for a moment. Zerstor’s sword passed straight through him.”

“He can’t do that,” said Vidre.

“Well, he did. Ask anyone who was there,” said Dominic.

“Within the next hour, half the city will be claiming that they were there,” said Vidre. “And the people who actually were there will be saying that they had a front row seat. This is why I’m talking to you now, so I can separate truth from fiction. Continue.”

“Welexi tried to press his advantage after that.” said Dominic. “But he got his hand cut off. Or, part of it anyway. You saw the result. It looked like Zerstor was going to win, he had Welexi by the throat, so … I picked up Welexi’s weapon from the ground, and I killed Zerstor with it.”

Vidre stared at him. “Zerstor is dead.”

“He is,” said Dominic. He had almost as much trouble believing it as she seemed to. “The spear passed through his armor, into his heart.”

“He’s too fast,” said Vidre. “There’s no way that you would be able to hit him, let alone pierce—no, I suppose if you had Welexi’s spear, if he was distracted—and of course that’s why he wants you to come with us. Well. This buggers things.”

Her words were like slap to the face. “Do you understand that I saved his life?” asked Dominic.

“I do,” said Vidre. “And you’re going to be elevated for it, which I’m sure wasn’t under consideration at all.”

Dominic parted his mouth to respond, but only ended up frowning.

“I don’t mean to slight you,” said Vidre, “But this really does bugger things. It’s a counter-story that needs to find its legs. I need to get moving on this, speak with the senatori, the ship is going to have leave port tomorrow instead of two days from now because we can’t have Welexi showing weakness. I’ll have to inform the bards—look, are you alright with coming with us? We offer fame, fortune, and power. I would say beyond your wildest dreams, but I’ve seen how big dreams can be. We leave tomorrow morning, that gives you the rest of today to get ready.” She watched him carefully.

“Yes,” said Dominic. The world was coming back into focus. He had a path laid out in front of him, which was more than he could say for his life as it had been an hour ago. “Of course.”

“And?” asked Vidre.

“And?” repeated Dominic.

“You were supposed to ask me where we’re going,” said Vidre, like she was talking to a child.

“Where are we going then?” asked Dominic.

“Torland,” said Vidre. “And from there to elsewhere, part of Welexi’s quest for the Numifex. We won’t be back in the Sovento States for years.”

“Okay,” said Dominic. She was speaking too quickly for him, and clearly impatient. It was starting to become clear that this was his life now. He would be traveling with the Sunhawk and the Queen of Glass. He was one of them now, or would be soon.

“You’re supposed to ask what the Numifex is—look, we’ll do all this another time, when I have more patience and you’re less awestruck, or whatever it is that’s clouding your head,” said Vidre. “And I do hope that this is not you at your smartest.”

“Sorry,” said Dominic. “It’s been a long day.”

“Is there anything I desperately need to know about you?” asked Vidre.

“No,” said Dominic, quickly enough that it almost wasn’t a lie; his brain simply hadn’t caught up to his mouth, and it was only after the word was out that a cascade of other thoughts came following which showed how untrue that “no” really was. Right at the top of the list was Corta. He had half a mind to ask Vidre for money, to explain that he owed a debt of four thousand capi on top of the four thousand in his account, but he could very well imagine her laughing in his face and telling him that he wasn’t worth that to Welexi. He wanted her to note some falseness in his denial, to extract the information, so he would be able to lay things out for her.

Vidre simply took him at his word though, and that was that.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The crowds weren’t as thick when Dominic left the ship, though there were still quite a lot of people milling about. When they saw him, a ragged cheer rippled through their ranks, but it was clear that they were waiting for someone else—someone more important. He came down the plank and passed through the sailors in their white uniforms, and was grateful that no one in the crowd immediately began to grab for him, as they’d done in the plaza. The fact that a few of the sailors carried swords might have had something to do with that.

“Is it true you killed Zerstor?” asked an older man, who Dominic took for a pensioner.

“I did,” said Dominic. “It was luck more than anything.” The people parted way for him, but not easily. He wasn’t the man they wanted to see, but he was by far the most interesting person around.

“What did they say in there?” asked a girl a few years younger than Dominic.

“They just wanted to thank me,” said Dominic.

“What’s your name?” asked an old woman.

“Dominic de Luca,” he replied. To his mild irritation, a few of the people had started following him, walking alongside him as he made his way to his parents’ house. Afterward he planned to stop by his apartment and pack his meager possessions away, and get back to the ship before anyone could change their mind. He would be long gone by the time Corta came looking for him. “I’m Dominic Lightscour now,” he said, remembering the name that Welexi had given him. Welexi had a hundred names, each of them a testament to some good deed: Whitespear, Sunhawk, Brightshield, on and on for ages. Dominic resolved that Lightscour wouldn’t be the last of the names he received.

With another two blocks and twenty questions, only the young girl was still keeping pace with him. He hadn’t quite ran from anyone, but many of those who could afford to sit around the docks all day waiting for something interesting to happen were older, and not able to follow quickly. The girl dogged at his steps despite his long strides, asking more questions.

“What do you do for a living?” she asked.

“I’m a runner, packages for the wealthy mostly,” he replied. Usually it was contraband of one kind or another, stolen goods to be sold to those who didn’t inquire too deeply about their provenance, or teas and spices that hadn’t passed through the customs office. Sometimes it was drugs—malum, mostly—and sometimes it was proscribed literature. Corta had fingers in many pies. Dominic wasn’t supposed to look inside the packages, but he did whenever there wasn’t an obvious seal on one of them. There’d been a time when he’d taken his own cut, but he’d stopped that when Santino had been caught doing the same and paid with his life.

He glanced around as they passed through a five-way intersection. He was vaguely worried about another mob forming. Thanks to Welexi, everyone knew his name, or would soon, but practically no one knew his face. He couldn’t have been seen by that many people in all, maybe more if he counted the ones that had been watching from the rooftops or leaning out their windows. Eventually he would be known like Welexi was. He was sure that when he returned to the ship in an hour’s time there would be all sorts of people wanting to meet him, senatori, merchants, and everyone else. He still had time before everyone recognized him on sight. If not for the girl, he would be virtually anonymous.

“How old are you?” the girl asked.

“I’m seventeen,” Dominic replied. “Look, do you think we might part ways here? I’m worried that you’re going to call attention to me, and there are things that I need to get done in the next few hours that I don’t think are going to be possible for very long.”

“Like what?” asked the girl. She continued on, right next to him, and Dominic contemplated running away from her before deciding that he had a little bit more dignity than that.

“I need to speak with my parents,” said Dominic. “And with the friends I share a room with.” And after that, slink back to the ship before Corta had any chance to take his hide. He had a day though, she’d said that.

“I can wait outside,” said the girl with a smile.

“I would really prefer to be left alone,” said Dominic.

Her smile dropped. “You’re new,” she said. “If you want to be an illustrati you need to have an ombra, and I’m as good as any.”

“Aren’t you a little young—” Dominic began.

“Not that kind of ombra,” she said with a moue, “Like an assistant.”

“You’re still a little young,” he replied. They were coming up on his parents’ shop, and he wanted her gone before then. “Look, if you want to help me out, then just leave me to my business. In the meantime, start telling some stories about me. Like a bard. Alright? And if I need your assistance later on, I’ll come find you.”

To his surprise, the girl nodded. “You can find me near the Orrico fountain, in the small building with a blue door.” She held out her hand. “Clarissa Fiscella.”

Dominic shook her hand, and then she was off like a dart. She was playing to her archetype, in the way that those who sought fame often did. He didn’t need a precocious youth in his life though, and he had no intention of ever seeing her again, let alone seeking her out. He would leave Gennaro tomorrow, and when he returned he would be a different person entirely. That was the opportunity that had opened up in front of him. He’d been thinking too small when he’d thought about asking Vidre for money to pay off Corta.

His parents were bakers, and the moment he opened the front door the smell brought him back to his childhood. He had spent many early mornings working dough with his father, and many evenings cleaning the shop while his mother rang up customers. He had stolen sugar from the sack in the back with his sister, sticking a wet finger in it and sucking it clean while listening for parental footsteps. His arms and hands had suffered innumerable burns from the accursed oven. That had been his childhood, the smell of it alone was nearly enough to knock the wind from him.

“Dominic!” called his mother when he stepped inside. It was warm in the bakery, as it always was. The rooms upstairs had never lacked for heat in the winters. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s complicated,” he replied. “Is dad around?”

“In back, I’ll get him,” said his mother. “We’re making a cake for one of the senatori.” She waved a hand towards the loaves of bread that were stacked up in baskets on the wall, with olives, cheeses, and garlic baked into the top of most of them. “Pick out a loaf to take home.”

Dominic waited, and stuck his hands in his pockets. His sister Nilda was behind the counter. She didn’t say hello to him, or give him a particularly welcoming look. He nodded to her, but it was some time before she nodded back. After that, she began cleaning the counter. She was trying her best to ignore him, and so he ignored her in return. He wanted to ask where the others were, but he could make his guesses. Firmino and Marcello would be making deliveries, and Anna would be studying with whatever tutor his parents could convince to work for bread. The patterns of the family had been well-established when he left, and there was no reason to think that they had changed.

His mother came back into the store’s central area and gave Dominic a tight hug. His father came much slower, wiping his hands on his apron. He looked much older than Dominic remembered—he’d gone gray at the temples, and where he’d always been a thick man, now he had a bit of a pouch. He was sagging, in more ways than one.

“Dominic,” said his father. Dominic’s mother stepped to the side, and looked back and forth between the two of them.

“Dad,” said Dominic. He felt like a child again. “Look, I had to come by here because you’ll probably be getting some people that are looking for me—”

“Are you in trouble?” his father asked with a frown.

“There was a fight in Nuncio Plaza,” said Dominic. “Welexi and Zerstor, a final confrontation.” He wasn’t sure how to say the next part. It still didn’t feel like it had really happened.

“Were you picking pockets?” his sister asked from behind the counter. She was scowling at him. “Nothing like a fight to distract people, isn’t that right?”

“I was just watching,” said Dominic. He tried to force down his anger. “Welexi lost part of his hand, cut off by Zerstor’s sword, and it looked like he was about to lose, so I stepped in and … it’s probably better that you hear it from me, because you’re going to hear it one way or another, but I killed Zerstor.”

His mother gasped and put her hands to her mouth, but his father said nothing, and only gave Dominic the same sort of look that he’d always had when he was going over his ledger at the end of the day.

“How?” his father asked.

“Welexi had dropped one of his spears. I picked it up and … it was over quickly. I got him by surprise.” It was a hard thing for Dominic to put into words. There hadn’t been much to it. It could have been any other person in the crowd. It seems like a dozen people should have been going towards the spear the moment Zerstor’s back was turned, but it had only been him. “I got lucky.” The more he thought about it, the more he thought about all the ways that it could have gone wrong.

“Gambling with your life,” his father said.

Dominic nodded. There was no use in denying that.

His father shook his head. “Well, if you’re telling the truth we’ll get a surge in business at least. But we won’t lie for you.”

“Lie for me?” Dominic asked. He could already feel tightness in his throat.

“I won’t make you out to be a hero,” his father said. “I won’t pretend you’re someone to look up to. Now if that’s all, I have a cake to bake.” His father turned back towards the kitchen.

Dominic balled up his fists. “Dad, I’m leaving the city. I’m going to be Welexi’s protege. Don’t you understand how important this is? How big of a thing it is? I’ll be gone for years!”

“So go then,” his father replied. He folded his arms across his chest. “We wish you the best.” Dominic spun on his heel and opened the door to the bakery. He had hoped that his mother at least would offer up an objection, but there was no sound from her. He wished that he could have said goodbye to his brothers, or his sister Anna, but standing in the same room with his father for much longer would have hurt too much. He would have to hope that Anna understood.

He turned the corner to get to his apartment, and came face to face with one of Corta’s enormous sons.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vidre sat in a dimly lit room with two bards on either side of her. Their names were Leon and Marco, and both had thick beards and curly black hair. They sometimes claimed to be brothers, though that was just a bit of flourish you had to expect from men who crafted stories for a living. They had already talked about Welexi’s injuries, and the stories that would have to be told to downplay them while he recovered. It was almost universally accepted that showing weakness wasn’t worth whatever you gained in short-term sympathy, and besides that, the fight with Zerstor was a capstone on their time in Gennaro, and there was no point in an extended denouement.

“His name is Dominic de Luca,” said Vidre. “He’s going to be a new addition to our crew, Welexi’s protege. His domain is shadow, which should help matters. There’s a duality there. Light saved by shadow, we can use that.”

“I swear I’ve heard that name before,” said Leon.

Vidre shook her head. “I’d doubt that. He’s a complete unknown.”

“The rooftop races,” said Marco. “I lost twenty capi betting on him.”

“He’s one of Corta’s whelps?” asked Leon with a raised eyebrow.

“Corta?” asked Vidre. They’d spent the last nine days in Gennaro, and while Vidre had memorized a flurry of names, that hadn’t been one of the ones that stuck. “Who is that?”

“She’s a criminal, the kind that the senatori don’t have too much of a problem with,” said Leon. “There are the rooftop races of course, gambling, smuggling, bribery, aggressive loans which the banks wouldn’t take, and a few other matters like that. As far as the underworld goes, she’s one of the top three in Gennaro.” He frowned. “I left her out of my brief, I didn’t think she was quite important enough.”

“What does this say about Dominic?” asked Vidre. She had a glass of wine in front of her, which she hadn’t touched. She was too on-edge for alcohol, and had a suspicion that she would have to keep her wits about her until they set sail. Welexi had looked downright sickly when she left. It would be the perfect time for someone to make an attempt on his life.

“Oh, likely your new boy is a criminal himself,” said Leon. “Most of the racers are. Being fleet of foot makes you valuable among the criminal element, in case someone needs a lookout that can outpace the guards. That was the genesis for Corta’s races, I believe.”

“This presents a problem from a narrative standpoint,” said Marco. He turned to look at his partner, then back to Vidre. “We’ve been trying to weave two narratives of redemption, one for Gaelwyn and one for you. Gael is going to be making up for his sins if he lives to be a hundred, and you’re waiting for the proper moment for that part of your story to conclude. To add on a third redemption arc concurrent with those two is going to strain credulity, and by the rule of three, something has to be different about this one.”

Vidre let out a long, low sigh. “Point taken. Welexi as serial reformer is questionable, but to say he’s working on all three of us just doesn’t work.”

“Especially not after what Gael did in Grantholm,” said Leon.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room.

“We can try to scrub Dominic’s past clean,” said Vidre. “But we’d have to interrogate him first, and if he is a criminal he’s already lied to me once. I could kick him off the ship, but that doesn’t serve a narrative, and Welexi would likely object. So we pivot. It’s not a story of redemption at all, it’s a story of betrayal. We spread some rumors about a shadowy conversation down by the docks, or whispers from cloaked figures, and there’s an implication that Welexi is going to find a dagger in his back, that he was too trusting or too good.”

“Setting the boy up to take a fall?” asked Leon.

“No,” said Vidre. “It’s like I said, the narrative can’t show Dominic valiantly saving the day and then immediately cast him as a villain, even if that’s what his domain naturally suggests. We make the rumors vague. It’s not necessarily Dominic plotting, maybe it’s Gael. Maybe it’s me.”

Leon and Marco looked at each other.

“We need to shape this story,” said Vidre. “Make it into something that people will want to share, to talk over. Betrayal works for that. There’s an element of the unknown that will appeal to people. Will Welexi be betrayed by the monster, the whore, or the thief? Will he manage to survive? And if we need to bring a resolution, it can simply be that one of the crew was the betrayer, a poisoner or some-such thing. A viper snuck into his bed perhaps—some ridiculous bit of showmanship no real assassin would ever use. We have months to figure that out.”

“Possibly we complete the redemption arc for Dominic then?” asked Leon. “Just to get it out of the way. Dominic heroically saves his mentor for a second time, removing any doubts about his trustworthiness. Depending on what his actual crimes have been, or at least what comes to light in the next few weeks that can be treated as credible, perhaps it’ll be easy to say he’s turned over a new leaf.”

“There’s a problem,” said Marco. He gulped down his wine. “We can’t sell this. Not the bit about betrayal. It’s too transparent. Leon and I are known to be in your employ.”

“Use intermediaries,” said Vidre. “You’re going to have to anyway, to spread the rumors we need. Write under a pen name. Figure out a way to make it work. And in the meantime, write the songs and stories about the battle that Dominic brought to an end. I know this is extra work, but it’s necessary. We’ll be in touch.” She stood up without waiting to listen to their complaints. “I need to go find Dominic.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dominic’s first instinct was to run, but Corta’s son reached forward and grabbed him by the tunic.

“Mother would like a chat,” said the large man. He was six and a half feet tall, with the musculature of a pit fighter. One of the sons had actually taken to that line of work, but Dominic could never keep them straight, and all of them were of similar build.

“Tell her I’ll pay her,” said Dominic. He struggled, and received a hard blow to the side of the head in return. Dominic wasn’t completely useless in a fight, but Corta’s son had too many pounds on him, as well as years of experience being his mother’s enforcer. He also had a truncheon hanging conspicuously at his side. “It hasn’t even been a day.”

“We got word that things have been exciting for you,” said Corta’s son. Tito? Tino? All their names began with the same letter, which made them even harder to keep track of. “Mother wants you to not do anything foolish.”

Dominic was marched forward with one hand pinned behind his back. A few people took note of them as they made their way to the restaurant where Corta made her headquarters, but no one said anything. Dominic was anonymous again, just another young man in poor clothing, not a would-be illustrati.

Corta was sitting in a booth near the back, her customary spot. The restaurant was empty. Dominic was pushed down into a seat in front of Corta. She grinned at him. She was a full-figured woman, with a blouse that was more unbuttoned than was proper, which showed off her breasts and the brassiere that struggled to hold them. Her wine-stained teeth were large and flat. She had thick rings of gold on most of her fingers, and these clinked against her goblet when she drank from it, which was often.

“You said I could take the day off,” said Dominic.

“That was before I got word that you killed an illustrati,” said Corta. She tapped her painted nails against the wooden table. “And here I had thought you were nothing exceptional.”

“I’ll have the money to you tomorrow,” said Dominic. “Like we agreed.”

“Well, I hardly believe that, now do I?” asked Corta. She sipped at her wine. “I had wondered, after I heard, why a man would so readily risk his life. Even one so foolish as you, even one who had lost an enormous bet. It was a puzzle. So I took a look at the proof of credit you gave me, and I’m sure that you know what I found there. A four turned into an eight. I was going to kill you, but after having some time to reflect, now I think perhaps we can help each other. You’re about to be famous.”

“Alright,” said Dominic quickly. “Partners. And I’ll get you the money I owe you.”

“Ah,” said Corta. “But you were a little too fast to acquiesce, and of course we have the problem that I can’t trust you in the slightest. What plans are going through that thick skull of yours? How do you intend a second betrayal? Do you think that killing Zerstor and saving Welexi gives you so much power that you can stand against me? Do you think that you can find an ally willing to tangle with me?”

The door to the restaurant opened, and light spilled in. The earlier clouds had passed, and the sun lit Vidre up from behind, highlighting the red in her blond hair. Where the light hit her glass armor it reflected into the restaurant, momentarily lighting up the place until she stepped inside and let the door close behind her. A pair of glass daggers hung at her hips.

“Ah, Dominic, I had wondered whether I would find you here,” said Vidre. “It seems that you weren’t entirely honest with me when you said that there was nothing that I should know about.”

“Lady Vidre,” said Corta. She didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see the Queen of Glass come into her empty restaurant. “Come, have a seat.”

“No thank you,” said Vidre. “I’m only here to grab my charge.” She stood some ten feet away from the booth where Corta and Dominic sat, with Corta’s son looming close by. Vidre was halfway turned toward the door with an expectant look on her face.

“Yes, I’ll just be going,” said Dominic. He stood up, and Corta’s son stepped forward to put a hand on his shoulder and roughly force him back down.

“Hush,” said Corta. “The women are talking.” She turned her eyes to Vidre and licked her lips. “You see, the problem is that dear Dominic owes me a sum of eight thousand capi, tried to cheat me, and furthermore is my employee—”

“I’ll pay it,” said Vidre with a shrug. “Anything else?”

“You can’t simply pay—”

“Of course I can,” said Vidre. “You have to know that eight thousand capi is nothing to me.”

Corta glowered at Vidre. “And what is _he_ to you?”

“I don’t have time for this right now,” said Vidre. “Dominic, let’s go. Corta, I’ll authorize you to take money from our vault, go to the Banco Albero at your leisure.”

Dominic again began to stand up, and again Corta’s son moved forward, but this time there was a sound of footsteps and a rush of air. When Dominic looked over, Vidre had one of her daggers pressing against the stomach of Corta’s son, with the other dagger pointed lazily in Corta’s direction.

“I don’t like to judge a book by its cover,” said Vidre. “But when I walked in here, I thought to myself, ‘My, that looks like a very dumb man.’ And lo and behold, it turned out that my first instincts were correct. I hate that—when a man is all surface, no hidden depths, no subversions of my expectations of him. It’s so dull. Now, I suppose the only question that remains here is whether I’m going to have to paint the walls of this shithole of a restaurant with your blood.”

Corta clinked her rings against her goblet with narrowed eyes. “Dominic broke contract with me,” said Corta. “He tried to steal from me, after I provided for him for years. This is about more than money.”

“Then the money is off the table,” said Vidre. “I’m taking Dominic, no payment on offer.”

“I will not allow it,” said Corta. Her breathing had become very controlled. She had both her hands on the table.

“Her domain is sound,” Dominic said quickly.

“Look,” said Vidre. “I think you might have some misunderstanding of who I am. You have your own little realm of influence here. You’re one of maybe fifty people in the city with any real power, enough that you can get some use out of it instead of just having a parlor trick. Perhaps you can even hurt someone with it. That’s you.” Vidre smiled. “I’m one of the most famous women on the planet. There’s a small temple in Luchistan that you can only reach by riding a mule for twenty miles up treacherous mountain paths, and they tell stories of me there. My name is muttered in small jungle villages, in huts on the frozen tundra, in every corner of this earth. I’ve killed hundreds of men with twice your power, and they were all trained soldiers. I’m stronger than you. I’m faster than you. I can bend steel with my bare hands and catch a cannonball in mid-flight. Do you want to make this about raw might?”

Corta wavered. She looked at her son, and then at Dominic, then back to Vidre. “Sound shatters glass,” was her feeble reply. Her voice had been sapped of its confidence.

“And then what?” asked Vidre. “My armor shatters, and I’m left with a million shards of glass to kill you with. It wouldn’t be a new experience. It wouldn’t hurt me. I haven’t been cut by glass since I was ten years old. The domain of sound has never scared me before, and it’s not going to start now.” She spun her daggers around in her hands. “I’m going to leave with Dominic. Do I need to kill you?”

“No,” replied Corta. She sank down and drank what was left of her wine. Her eyes didn’t meet Vidre’s.

“Good,” said Vidre. “And while everything I know about you could fit a pair of sentences, let me assure you that if you do anything to Dominic’s family or his loved ones, or if you attempt retribution because of this unfortunate embarrassment, I will take a great deal of pleasure in slicing the skin off your face. That’s the sort of thing they write songs about.” She nodded to Corta’s son. “That goes double for you. And get some education, find a hobby, something. if you’re going to be a thug, at least be less boring about it. It’s offensive.”

She put her daggers back onto her belt and walked to the door without looking behind her.

Dominic followed, though he wasn’t nearly so nonchalant.

If you have found a spelling error, please, notify us by selecting that text and pressing _Ctrl+Enter_.

question: How is Welexi wounded?

answer: He was fighting with Zerstor and Zerstor got part of his hand cut off.

question: Who won the fight?

answer: It looked like Zerstor was going to win, but Dominic helped Welexy and killed Zerstor.

question: Who is 'the Queen of Glass'?

answer: The Queen of Glass is one of Vidre's names. She is one of the most famous women on the planet. She is dangerous and strong.

question: Why will Dominic leave Gennaro?

answer: He was invited by Vidre to join her and Welexi and become a member of their team.

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: It looked like Zerstor, an illustrati, was going to beat Welexy, but Dominic, a thief,  saved Welexy's life by killing Zerstor. Dominic becomes Welexy's protege and Vidre, the Queen of Glass, invites him to become one of them. She offers fame, fortune, and power, and Dominic accepts. They are going to leave next morning.


text:
It was the third summer since the war ended and the Cloud had broken, ending the tyranny of a winter that had lasted decades. The warmth on Lauriel’s face lifted her spirits. Her garden was finally returning to an approximation of its former glory; rose bushes breathing color into a space that for so long had been a gray wasteland. Her favorite vine was growing, too, not yet more than a few buds at the base of the lattice she’d put up earlier that week. She would teach it to weave as it grew.

A baby’s cry broke through her serenity, and Lauriel smiled; *I must teach you to grow too, little one. You will have a whole new world to weave through.*

The pristine click of the garden gate filled the air with something Lauriel ascribed to coziness. She couldn’t say the same for the old street lamp out front. The road it had once faintly illuminated was gone, reclaimed by the earth. A testament to the strength of our makers, she thought as she turned and started to climb the porch stairs.

Lauriel didn’t notice the rain as it fell at the base of the lamp post; or the puddle the rain formed as it pooled and ran off an unseen edge. Even as she turned back briefly, on the thought of having heard something peculiar, she did not see it. The rain had by then flickered and vanished; much the same as the light from the bulb above.

title: The Prologue of My First Short Story: Unfathomable

question: Describe Lauriel.

answer: Lauriel seems to be a nurturing character who likes to tend to her garden and look after her child.


text:
"Why are you here?" She asked wearily. I thought I had come prepared to answer this, I knew I did but when she did actually ask me, I was lost for words. It wasn’t so much the nature of the question or the lack of an answer on my part. It was her. She looked so sad, her eyes void of hope and her voice fatigued. I felt responsible, I had taken this beautiful woman, the love of my life, and broken her piece by piece till she became a shadow of the person I fell in love with.

When you fall in love, you never intend to hurt the person you care so much about. You would rather die than see them in any sort of pain. All you want to do is spend every waking second with them. I wanted to be her everything and she was everything I wanted. I never wanted to imagine a world without her.

Slowly, but surely the magic wears off. Words and expressions become routine. You become comfortable and begin to take her for granted. The playful quarrels become hour-long screaming matches. Sometimes my actions became louder than my words. You can only take so much and I should’ve done better. I thought I was better than that. I resented who I had become and what I had done, but I always had hope.

I just wanted her to forgive me, I wanted us to be us again. I wanted to make her happy and carry on like nothing had come in between us. She prompted me again, “Why are you here?” I saw her eyes tear up, every terrible decision I made or thing I said to her exploded through my head. That’s when I asked myself, what was I doing here? The hardest part of knowing that it was over between us was that no matter what I did, I could never make her feel like she did before. I was only causing her pain and this was a hard truth for me to swallow. I turned around to leave knowing that I would never see her again. I mustered the only three words I saw fit, “I am sorry.” Her face expressed more than her words ever would.

title: Inertia

question: How did the guy break the girl?

answer: The story vaguely mentions arguments and harsh words.

question: Why does the man resent himself?

answer: He became the kind of person who causes pain to someone he loves.

question: Why does he turn back and leave?

answer: He realizes his presence can only cause pain to her.

question: Why did the man come to speak to her?

answer: Before he realizes her sadness and how much pain he causes by being there, he still had hope that they could go back to being a couple.

question: Write a ~5 sentence summary.

answer: "Why are you here?" she asks, and the man can't answer despite knowing what to say a moment ago. Her expression, the complete sadness stops him. He reminisces about all the things he could've done better, and in the end, he realizes that his presence will only cause pain. "I am sorry," he says and leaves.


text:
The VALLIÈRE () is a long river in the Jura and Saône-et-Loire departments in eastern France.[1] Its source is in the steephead valley of Revigny, in the Jura Mountains. It flows generally west. It is a right tributary of the Solnan, into which it flows between Bruailles and Louhans.

Departments and communes along its course

This list is ordered from source to mouth:

-   Jura: Revigny, Conliège, Montaigu, Perrigny, Lons-le-Saunier, Montmorot, Courlans, Courlaoux, Condamine,
-   Saône-et-Loire: Savigny-en-Revermont, Flacey-en-Bresse, Sagy, Saint-Martin-du-Mont, Bruailles, Louhans,

Notes

-   _This article is based on the equivalent article from the French Wikipedia, consulted on April 9th 2009._

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title: Vallière (river)

question: How was this article written?

answer: It was based on the equivalent article on the French Wikipedia.

question: Where is the Vallière?

answer: In the Jura and Saône-et-Loire departments in eastern France.

question: What major body of water does the Vallière connect to?

answer: The Solnan

question: What is Lons-le-Saunier?

answer: It is either a department or a commune along the course of the Vallière.

question: Write a ~2 sentence summary.

answer: The Vallière is a river in eastern France. It is a tributary of the Solnan and generally flows west from its source in the Jura Mountains.


text:
EUEL BOX (December 31, 1928[1] - February 28, 2017)[2] was an American music producer, composer, arranger, and trumpeter who wrote major film scores[3] and radio jingles for major markets.[4]

Early years

College

Box was born in Georgetown, Texas. He studied composition at the University of North Texas College of Music in the 1950s and earned a Bachelor of Music Degree in June 1951.[5] and continued post-graduate studies in composition through the early 1950s. One of his composition teachers was Violet Archer, resident composer. He was classmates with undergraduate student composer Larry Austin, Eloy Fominaya and graduate students Robert Gauldin and Clifford Shipp. Before studying at North Texas, Box spent his first two years of college (1948–49 & 1949–50) at Southwestern University.

Post college

Box played trumpet in the United States Marine Band; produced music (composed, arranged, recorded, conducted) for major radio markets in the North America, London, Luxembourg, and Australia. He composed film music for Braniff International Airways, Dr. Pepper, Buick, the United States Navy, Haggar Slacks, Zale Corporation, Texas Instruments, LTV Aerospace, and Bell Helicopter.

Songwriter

Box was a songwriter for several films, including _Benji,_ _For the Love of Benji_, _The Double McGuffin_, _Hawmps!_, and _Oh Heavenly Dog_. He recorded and conducted for various artists including Stevie Wonder, Boz Scaggs, Glen Campbell, Lou Rawls, Charlie Rich, and Chet Atkins. As a recording artist, he had 2 albums. In 1974, Euel, as composer, and his wife, Betty, as lyricist, received a Golden Globe Award for Best Original Song — “I Feel Love” — from the film _Benji._ The song also earned the two a 1974 Academy Award nomination in the same category — Best Original Song. In that film and other projects, his chief collaborators were Betty Box and Joe Camp. His songs included, “I Feel the Love,” “Sunshine Smiles,” “Multiplicity,” “Live for Today,” and “Somebody Who Really Cares.”[6]

Family

Box married Betty Ruth McCrary and had three children.

Film scores

-   1974 — _Benji_
    -   “I Feel Love”
-   1976 — _Hawmps!_
-   1977 — _Charge of the Model T's_
-   1978 — _For the Love of Benji_
-   1978 — _Benji's Very Own Christmas Story_
    -   “Multiplicity” (“I Am What People Think of Me”)
-   1979 — _The Double McGuffin_
-   1980 — _Oh Heavenly Dog_
-   1987 — _Benji the Hunted_

Awards

_Benji_ earned Euel Box and his wife, Betty, a 1975 nomination for an Oscar and won a Golden Globe Award for Best Song From a Motion Picture.[7] The award-winning song was “I Feel Love.” Euel wrote the music and Betty wrote the words.[8] Betty also studied music at North Texas, graduating in 1952[9] and, with Euel, started college at Southwestern University in 1948-49.

Jingles

-   “Frito Twist/How To Twist” — advertising promotion for Frito-Lay. “Frito Twist/How to Twist” was recorded in Dallas, Texas, by the PAMS Jingle Studio. “Frito Twist/How to Twist,” Fritos promo 45rpm (1962)
-   produced by PAMS, composed by Euel Box, _et. al_

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title: Euel Box

question: What instrument did Euel Box play?

answer: Trumpet

question: List five musicians Euel Box worked with.

answer: Stevie Wonder, Boz Scaggs, Glen Campbell, Lou Rawls, and Chet Atkins

question: Summarize Euel Box's college years.

answer: He attended Southwestern University for two years before studying composition at the University of North Texas College of Music, where he also earned a Bachelor of Music Degree. He also contnued with post-graduate studies in composition. Violet Archer, resident composer, was one of his teachers. His classmates included Larry Austin, Eloy Fominaya, Robert Gauldin, and Clifford Shipp.

question: What companies did Euel Box write jungles for?

answer: Frito-Lay

question: Name three songs written by Euel Box.

answer: I Feel The Love, Multiplicity, Somebody Who Really Cares

question: What was the last film Euel Box provided the film score for?

answer: Benji the Hunted

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: Euel Box was an American producer, arranger, and trumpeter. He wrote major film scores and also composed radio jingles, including the Frito Twist/How To Twist for Frito-Lay. In addition, he worked with several musicians, including Stevie Wonder and Boz Scaggs, and also released 2 albums along with his wife, Betty.


text:
Let me tell you about a friend of mine...

Let's just call him “Joel.” At a very young age, Joel realized that he preferred playing with barbie dolls over playing with action figures. When puberty hit, he realized that he wasn't interested in girls the way his male peers were. Shortly thereafter, things added up and Joel realized he was gay.

Joel grew up in small town in rural Georgia, in a conservative family that attended a baptist church every Sunday. Joel knew that to be himself would mean to be ostracized, so he hid his sexuality.

Joel moved to Atlanta to attend college. He discovered that he wasn't alone in being gay. He began having one night flings with men he met at clubs and on the internet, remaining in the closet the whole time. He continued going to church throughout his college years.

One day, Joel confessed to his pastor that he was gay. His pastor told him that it was okay. He said that he could help him. He would teach him to “pray the gay away.”

Joel spent years asking God to remove his homosexuality. He prayed that God would make him straight so he could have a family and be just like his fellow church-goers. It seems that God had other plans for him.

Eventually, Joel gave up trying to change who he was. He had always believed that God loved him no matter what, and that God had made him in his own image. Why would God want him to conceal his true feelings--feeling that were given to him by God in the first place? Why would a loving God want him to be someone he wasn't? Was God just a Supreme Prankster?

Joel didn't think so, so he came out of the closet. He eventually fell in love with a man much like himself who shared his faith. The two have been together ever since and have worked together on building a fellowship of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender Christians in the greater Atlanta area.

I'm not religious, and I don't like to way in on the topic of God, but, Joel's story makes me wish I could have the faith that he has, to believe in a loving God who wants us to be just the way He created us. What does it say about some people's view of themselves and the world when they worship a Supreme Creator who doesn't want some people to be happy with the way God created them? I don't know about you, but I prefer Joel's God over those other people's God.

title: Pray the Gay Away

question: Did Joel tell his parents he was gay?

answer: Information not found.

question: Did he move away from home?

answer: He moved to Atlanta to attend college.

question: What advice did the pastor give him after he confessed he was gay?

answer: To pray the day away.

question: Did he end up having a family?

answer: He ended up having a sort of a family

question: Write a ~4 sentence summary.

answer: Joel realized he was gay from an early age. He came from a religious background and struggled to accept his identity. He wished his gay would go away for him to be able to have a normal family. Eventually, he gave up trying to change, he met another man and build a close community around them.


text:
The CENTRALIAN BLUE-TONGUED SKINK or CENTRALIAN BLUE-TONGUE (_Tiliqua multifasciata_) is a species of skink,[1] occurring predominantly in the far north-west corner of New South Wales, Australia.[2] It is one of six species belonging to the genus Tiliqua; the blue-tongued skinks and the shinglebacks.

Description

The Centralian blue-tongue is of a very robust build, short body and slender tail, and is among the largest 1% of species in the family Scincidae.[3] Both the forelimb and hindlimb have five digits.[4]

Colouring

The skink is predominantly pale brown to grey in colour with a series of nine or more orange-brown bands along the length of the body and tail. These darker coloured bands are much wider than the paler grey-brown interspaces but are at their narrowest along the mid-dorsal region of the skink.[5] There is a distinguishing black stripe surrounding the eye and extending to just above the ear, and upper-hind areas of limbs are also black.[6][7][8] The skink is pale cream to white on the underside.[9][10]

Distribution

The geographical distribution of the blue-tongued skink lies throughout the far north-west corner of New South Wales and South Australia, and centrally throughout Western Australia, the Northern Territory and Queensland.[11][12] In general, habitats include a variety of arid and semi-arid stony and red sandy spinifex vegetated areas.[13]

Behaviour

Like many other reptilian species, the blue-tongued is a fairly sedentary terrestrial creature.[14] It is a ground-dwelling, diurnal species[15] and displacements are relatively short (less than 20 metres) and on average the total distance travelled each day can fall between 122 and 245 metres.[16]

Diet

Analyses of stomach contents have shown that the blue-tongue feeds on a combination of seeds, insects, livestock dung and some vertebrate and invertebrate material such as that of bird or other reptilian remains (i.e. fragments of bone, loose feathers).[17]

Reproduction

Along with the other five species of the same genus, the Centralian blue-tongued skink is a viviparous species - it bears between two and 10 live young in a single litter.[18][19][20]

Threats

The geographical location of the skink sees one of its major threats to be ingestion of the invasive and toxic cane toad,[21] but it is also under pressures from other anthropogenic processes such as fire and habitat fragmentation.[22] However, the species is still currently listed as least concern.[23]

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title: Centralian blue-tongued skink

question: Where is the species found?

answer: Predominantly in the far north-west corner of New South Wales, Australia, but it can also be found in South Australia, Western Australia, the Northern Territory, and Queensland

question: What does the skink look like?

answer: It is predominantly pale brown to grey with a series of nine or more orange-brown bands along the length of the body. There is a distinguishing black stripe surrounding the eye and extending to just above the ear

question: How far does a skink of this species typically travel in a day?

answer: Between 122 and 245 meters

question: What does the skink eat?

answer: A combination of seeds, insects, livestock dung, and various vertebrate and invertebrate material such as animal remains

question: Write a ~3 sentence summary.

answer: The Centralian Blue-Tongued Skink is a species of skink found in Australia, predominantly in New South Wales. It is pale brown to grey in color with a series of nine or more orange-brown bands along the length of the body. They have a distinguishing black stripe surrounding the eye and extending to just above the ear.