Hello hello! One of my stories is in audio format now! You can listen to it here, at Voice of the Dog:

Subject: stories for podcast

Message: Heya! The first part has gone live: https://www.thevoice.dog/episode/nu.....part-1-of-2-18 Per TVOD tradition, you are invited to announce this episode on your blog or social network of choice :)

I've been corresponding with Folvondusque about the Brave Comrade Coyote book, and I shared the unfinished manuscript, and look! Fan art! This is so cool.

Today, for those who may be a bit confused, I’ve written up a little of the background story for Ship’s Fox:

This story takes place on a world called Avalon, which has several magical portals allowing contact with our own Earth. Mages visit Earth from time to time, and sometimes they assist non-magical people to go there, but in general Earth is off-limits. The people of Avalon originally came from Earth, and they know this, but knowledge of current events on Earth reaches Avalon in a haphazard, partly suppressed way. Some bits of Earth knowledge, such as the secret of gunpowder, are actively suppressed by the Mage’s Guild.

Skritch Pelagos is a penzeloot - one of a species of giant talking otters created by magic several hundred years ago. Penzeloots, or lutis, organize themselves into clans. All members of a clan contribute what they can to support the clan, and the clan supports them in return. Individual lutis have little interest in wealth for themselves, but they are very motivated by anything that makes their clan richer and stronger. Skritch is the presumptive heir to the matriarchy of her clan, and because of this she was sent out as the financial manager on the maiden voyage of a captured and refitted pirate ship, now named the Dancing Bear. The Dancing Bear is a clipper ship patterned on Earth’s Cutty Sark. Even though she was bought very cheaply at a government auction, the Dancing Bear is the largest and most expensive ship any luti clan has ever put to sea. Although the Dancing Bear is owned by lutis, its voyage begins with a human captain and crew because it is a square-rigged ship with tall masts, and lutis are not considered to be much good at working sails so high in the air. Lutis prefer smaller, lateen rigged vessels that don’t require so much climbing.

At the beginning of this story the Dancing Bear is ready to go to sea, more or less, but Skritch’s clan has run out of money, including money to replace a large number of copper plates on the hull that had been stolen while she waited to be auctioned off. These missing copper plates contributed to the very low price she sold for, but they will need to be replaced soon, before the hull is destroyed by shipworms. Due to lack of money that project has been postponed until after the Dancing Bear has completed her first voyage, a simple grain delivery to the Shoalwater Isles.

While waiting to sail, Skritch rescues a fox from drowning, and pretends she wants to eat him. The fox is named Sushi because of this. The Dancing Bear puts to sea shortly after the fox’s rescue, but her voyage is interrupted by a mutiny plotted before she even left port. The mutineers send off the captain and his loyalists in a ship’s boat, but they keep Skritch aboard because she is trained in the art of navigation, and the mutineers need her skills to follow a treasure map they have discovered. Skritch’s human foster brother Hans, and another human named Silvus, are kept aboard as hostages to force Skritch to obey.

While the main body of mutineers are ashore searching for treasure, Skritch escapes and swims back to the Dancing Bear, then cuts the anchor cable and sails away with just four humans for crew: her allies Hans and Silvus, along with two mutineers who have agreed to help her. Skritch can’t safely operate her vessel with such a small crew, so she takes it to the nearest place she might hope to find assistance: the island of Sinpuerto.

Sinpuerto has been settled by lutis and hellhounds, a type of intelligent dog. It has no full-time human residents. At this point in the story Skritch is trying to get the Dancing Bear ready to sail again. She needs a crew and also an anchor, because she lost her only good anchor while escaping from the mutineers. The Dancing Bear does not have a full sized spare anchor because she put to sea in such a low-budget condition.

While on Sinpuerto, Skritch will also try to sell some of her non-grain cargo. Part of this cargo consists of bootleg brandy, which can be very profitable if it is not discovered and confiscated. At this point in the story Skritch is ashore, with Sushi, trying to negotiate trade deals. She has released the two mutineers ashore, as she had promised to do in return for their support. Hans and Silvus are still aboard the Dancing Bear, keeping her secure. Hans has already found a buyer who will trade desperately needed copper hull plating for their cargo of bootleg brandy. He has accepted the offer on Skritch’s behalf.

On the most recent page, 43, Sushi encountered a hellhound puppy and pounced on it, easily defeating it. In the next installment, page 44, you’ll learn more about the ways of hellhounds, and what they do with uppity foxes who attack their pups.

Today, for those who may be a bit confused, I’ve written up little of the background story for Ship’s Fox:

This story takes place on a world called Avalon, which has several magical portals allowing contact with our own Earth. Mages visit Earth from time to time, and sometimes they assist non-magical people to go there, but in general Earth is off-limits. The people of Avalon originally came from Earth, and they know this, but knowledge of current events on Earth reaches Avalon in a haphazard, partly suppressed way. Some bits of Earth knowledge, such as the secret of gunpowder, are actively suppressed by the Mage’s Guild.

Skritch Pelagos is a penzeloot - one of a species of giant talking otters created by magic several hundred years ago. Penzeloots, or lutis, organize themselves into clans. All members of a clan contribute what they can to support the clan, and the clan supports them in return. Individual lutis have little interest in wealth for themselves, but they are very motivated by anything that makes their clan richer and stronger. Skritch is the presumptive heir to the matriarchy of her clan, and because of this she was sent out as the financial manager on the maiden voyage of a captured and refitted pirate ship, now named the Dancing Bear. The Dancing Bear is a clipper ship patterned on Earth’s Cutty Sark. Even though she was bought very cheaply at a government auction, the Dancing Bear is the largest and most expensive ship any luti clan has ever put to sea. Although the Dancing Bear is owned by lutis, its voyage begins with a human captain and crew because it is a square-rigged ship with tall masts, and lutis are not considered to be much good at working sails so high in the air. Lutis prefer smaller, lateen rigged vessels that don’t require so much climbing.

At the beginning of this story the Dancing Bear is ready to go to sea, more or less, but Skritch’s clan has run out of money, including money to replace a large number of copper plates on the hull that had been stolen while she waited to be auctioned off. These missing copper plates contributed to the very low price she sold for, but they will need to be replaced soon, before the hull is destroyed by shipworms. Due to lack of money that project has been postponed until after the Dancing Bear has completed her first voyage, a simple grain delivery to the Shoalwater Isles.

While waiting to sail, Skritch rescues a fox from drowning, and pretends she wants to eat him. The fox is named Sushi because of this. The Dancing Bear puts to sea shortly after the fox’s rescue, but her voyage is interrupted by a mutiny plotted before she even left port. The mutineers send off the captain and his loyalists in a ship’s boat, but they keep Skritch aboard because she is trained in the art of navigation, and the mutineers need her skills to follow a treasure map they have discovered. Skritch’s human foster brother Hans, and another human named Silvus, are kept aboard as hostages to force Skritch to obey.

While the main body of mutineers are ashore searching for treasure, Skritch escapes and swims back to the Dancing Bear, then cuts the anchor cable and sails away with just four humans for crew: her allies Hans and Silvus, along with two mutineers who have agreed to help her. Skritch can’t safely operate her vessel with such a small crew, so she takes it to the nearest place she might hope to find assistance: the island of Sinpuerto.

Sinpuerto has been settled by lutis and hellhounds, a type of intelligent dog. It has no full-time human residents. At this point in the story Skritch is trying to get the Dancing Bear ready to sail again. She needs a crew and also an anchor, because she lost her only good anchor while escaping from the mutineers. The Dancing Bear does not have a full sized spare anchor because she put to sea in such a low-budget condition.

While on Sinpuerto, Skritch will also try to sell some of her non-grain cargo. Part of this cargo consists of bootleg brandy, which can be very profitable if it is not discovered and confiscated. At this point in the story Skritch is ashore, with Sushi, trying to negotiate trade deals. She has released the two mutineers ashore, as she had promised to do in return for their support. Hans and Silvus are still aboard the Dancing Bear, keeping her secure. Hans has already found a buyer who will trade desperately needed copper hull plating for their cargo of bootleg brandy. He has accepted the offer on Skritch’s behalf.

On the most recent page, 43, Sushi encountered a hellhound puppy and pounced on it, easily defeating it. In the next installment, page 44, you’ll learn more about the ways of hellhounds, and what they do with uppity foxes who attack their pups.

Teeth 1/20/20 Three of these statements are true, and one is false. Which is the false one?

Sharper than a Serpent’s Tooth

Snakes and sharks are rightly famous for the sharpness of their teeth, but there’s an extinct leech-like marine creature from the Cambrian Era, called a conodont, that had teeth that were sharper still.

These razor-sharp teeth were not large, it is true, but conodonts swam around a very long time ago, before modern bony fishes existed, and their tiny sharp teeth were devastating to the soft bodied creatures they preyed upon.

Conodonts could only apply a tiny biting force since their teeth were directly embedded in cartilage, rather than jawbones, and life became tough for them when the first bony fishes appeared. Those guys had tough skins, often sheathed in bony plates, and their jaws were formidable. The teeth of those early fish were dull, but who cares? They had a powerful new jaw design to drive them home, and that was all they needed to win Cambrian tooth wars.

Shark Shiv Shower

Sharks are the toothiest of all vertebrate animals, and requiem sharks are the toothiest of all sharks. Sharks are constantly growing new teeth and shedding old ones, and some species of requiem sharks are estimated to grow and shed thirty thousand teeth in their long lifetimes. That's threefold more than the great white shark, which goes through a mere ten thousand teeth during its lifetime.

Loved to Death

Ancient Egyptians were very fond of animals, and the pampered pets of wealthy Egyptians would, at times, receive state-of-the-ancient-art medical and dental care. One pet dog, belonging to a noble named Hanscrit from the reign of the Theban Queen Makare, was mummified wearing a necklace of alabaster scarab beads, malachite earrings in both ears … and a gold-inlaid dental filling in one aged canine tooth.

Iron Teeth and Wooden Chips

Beaver teeth are not white. They’re not even yellow. Bright orange would be a better term to describe them. They are orange because of their enamel’s high iron content. Most mammal teeth incorporate magnesium in the enamel to make it harder, but beavers use iron instead. This iron substitution makes the teeth much harder, and also more resistant to acid. This acid resistance means beavers don’t get cavities in their teeth, and researchers are working on ways to provide that benefit for human teeth as well. If we could incorporate iron into human teeth it would be better than fluoride treatments. Our teeth would be harder, more resistant to decay … better in every way except for that slight side effect of a cheery, bright orange smile.

We’ve had a bit of rain, last few days. Nothing special. We’re used to it here. Some say folks on the harbors all have webbed feet. Could be, could be, but… I guess it’s time to tell you we’re not alone. Some of our furry friends are fond of water too. Here are four of them you may not have heard of before. Three descriptions are true, and one is not. Can you guess which?

Flesh-Eating Swamp Wallabies

The swamp wallaby (Wallabia bicolor) is found in many eastern Australian wetland habitats. It’s also known as the black wallaby, black-tailed wallaby, fern wallaby… and also stinker or black stinker on account of its characteristic swampy odor.

Swamp wallabies will eat a wide range of plants including natural vegetation, agricultural crops, and a variety of plants poisonous to other animals such as bracken ferns, hemlock and lantana. Swamp wallabies have been observed eating meat, as well.

According to Aboriginal people of the Bundjalung Nation, the swamp wallaby was considered inedible due to its less-than-toothesome smell and taste.

Moonrat

The moonrat (Echinosorex gymnura) is not a rat, nor even a rodent. It’s a rat-like southeast Asian mammal related to hedgehogs. Moonrats can be over two feet long, counting their tails, and they’re fond of swampy habitats. In fact, moonrats are more aquatic than not, kind of like a carnivorous muskrat. Moonrats have been observed to hold their breaths for up to two minutes, and dive as deep as ten feet in search of the aquatic worms, shrimp, and small fish on which they feed.

Fishing Cat

The fishing cat is a medium-sized, spotted and striped wild cat of South and Southeast Asia. It’s about twice the size of a domestic cat, and stocky and muscular with medium to short legs.

This cat is strongly associated with wetlands: inhabiting swamps and marshy areas around oxbow lakes, reed beds, tidal creeks and mangrove forests. The fishing cat’s paws have webbing between the toes to help it swim and walk in muddy wetlands without sinking. It can swim long distances, and even swim under water. Fishing cats have been observed grabbing prey from the water with their claws and teeth, and sometimes diving into deep water to catch prey further from the banks.

Their main prey is fish; scat collected in India's Keoladeo National Park revealed that fish comprises approximately three-quarters of their diet, with the remainder consisting of birds, insects, and small rodents.

Marsh Mongoose

The marsh mongoose is found in swampy habitats throughout sub-Saharan Africa. It inhabits freshwater wetlands such as marshes and swamps along slow-moving rivers and streams, but also estuaries in coastal areas.

The marsh mongoose is an excellent swimmer, and is capable of diving beneath the water’s surface in search of prey, although prey is brought to the shore to be killed and consumed. Scat of marsh mongooses has been found to contain the remains of molluscs, crustaceans, amphibians, insects and fish. Marsh mongooses also prey on land creatures such as rodents, snakes, spiders, and insects. Fruits and berries and seeds are also consumed.

1 National Bird

Benjamin Franklin admired turkeys, and argued eloquently to have the turkey selected as our official national bird. He explained that wild turkeys are peaceful yet fierce in defense, loyal to their families, and difficult to deceive — a much better example to our innocent young country than another bloodthirsty eagle, like so many of the European countries used. He was particularly unimpressed by the bald eagle, which he considered hardly more than a white-headed fish vulture. Alas for poor Franklin, he was outvoted and the bald eagle won.

2 How much turkey is eaten?

USDA statistics show that 244 million turkeys were produced in the United States last year. Some were exported, but most were consumed domestically, resulting in a per capita turkey meat consumption of 46.5 pounds. This is slightly greater than the 44.1 pounds per capita of pork consumed, but less than the 58.4 pounds per capita of beef consumed. Chicken meat beat ‘em all, though, at 108.4 pounds per capita.

3 Gamma Gobblers

Manoranjan Misra, of the University of Nevada at Reno, is researching the use of waste poultry feathers as high efficiency water filters. Activated carbon works well for this purpose, but Misra has found that specially treated feather fibers are even better. Before packing the feather fibers into a filter, Misra activates them with high-energy ultrasound to open up microscopic pores in the fiber microstructure. These activated pores readily trap hard-to-remove contaminants such as uranium, strontium, cesium, and other heavy metals such as mercury and lead.
The primary use of these feather filters will be in the purification of drinking water, but Misra is also consulting with Oak Ridge National Laboratory about use of his feather-fiber materials to absorb, transport, and store nuclear waste.

4 Quit yer fussin’, Ma! I know what I’m doin’.

Deep-frying a turkey on Thanksgiving Day is growing in popularity, but it can be risky. According to the National Fire Protection Association, deep-fryer fires are responsible for an average of five deaths, 60 injuries, over a thousand house fires, and more than $15 million in property damage each year. For the last seven years, Texas has led the country in most grease- and cooking-related insurance claims on Thanksgiving Day.

radio show 4/24/19 Today I’m going to lie to you about… deception.

1 Watership downer, or: Do not ask for whom the fox trolls. He trolls for thee!

Red foxes are known for their distinctive yipping and screaming vocalizations, but they are capable of much more subtle sounds. Foxes of Hampshire, in the south of England, have even been observed to mimic the soft humming love calls male rabbits make during mating season, luring out randy rabbit bucks in much the same way human hunters lure out rutting deer and elk.


2 The Coral Reef Cleaner Con

Cleaner fish are the allies of many other fish species, which allow them to eat their parasites and dead skin in a mutually beneficial partnership. One species of cleaner, the bluestreak cleaner wrasse, has run into a bit of a complication with this partnership. That complication is… the bluestriped fangblenny. This fish has evolved to closely resemble the appearance and movements of the cleaner wrasse, but instead of trimming away parasites it bites off bits of living flesh. The fangblenny even produces an opioid-containing venom which dulls pain and lowers blood pressure, confusing the bitten host and giving the cheating mimic more time to consummate its scam. Host fish are not pleased, when they finally catch on, and when innocent cleaner wrasses later appear, they will often be rejected… or eaten.


3 Deadly deception wet…

South American horned frogs have jaws as strong as a small dog, and can swallow whole animals as big as they are, including other frogs, lizards, snakes and rodents. These frogs often conceal themselves beneath detritus and mud, and lure prey close by lifting a rear leg up and over the head, wiggling its toes to attract the attention of the potential meal. Once the victim is in range the frog will lunge forward, snapping up the unwary victim in its gigantic mouth.


4 And dry.

The spider-tailed horned viper of western Iran also likes to bury itself for concealment - this time in sand, not mud. This snake feeds primarily on birds, luring them close by twitching the tip of its tail, which is left unburied. This tail tip bears a distinctive cluster of long, scraggly scales which resemble the legs of a spider. When feeding birds hop close to investigate, the viper lunges out from the sand, and sinks home its deadly fangs.

The Season of Love Radio Show 2/27/19

1 When I’m not with the frog I love, I love the frog I’m with.

Tungara frogs, of Central and South America, call and mate at night. They prefer to be out and about when it's really dark, since illumination increases their risk of getting eaten.

But sometimes the mood strikes while the moon is bright. So what's a lovesick lady frog to do?

Female Tungara frogs have learned the solution is to lower their standards. If it's pitch black she'll follow the most attractive voice, no matter the distance. But if the moon is out she'll go for the loudest one, indicating a ready male who's safely close at hand.

2 Disco Desperation

Tungara frogs like it dark, but hummingbirds don’t. During the breeding season, hummingbird males attempt to impress prospective mates with gorgeous, hypnotizing displays of their iridescent throat feathers. They really are something to see but… how do you complete with electricity?

Recent studies have shown hummingbird females are entranced by the flashing LED splendor of modern commercial billboards, sometimes to the extent of ignoring the real-life romance right beside them. It is not known if this infatuation actually damages their breeding success, however. Male hummers are persistent and in the end, it seems, their sweeties tend see the light.

3 Lovesick

New research has shown that women, when falling in love, experience physiological changes similar to those seen when fighting a virus. A new romance can cause women to produce elevated levels of interferon - suggesting that being 'love sick' is more than just an emotion.

Blood samples were taken from 47 women, over the course of two years, as they entered new romantic relationships. Researchers found that new love activated genes to produce interferon, which is a protein usually released to combat viral infections. In those cases where the flame of romance had begun to burn out, interferon levels dropped as well. Some of the researchers in this program have suggested these changes might one day be detectible by means of a “true love” test kit, available in stores much like pregnancy kits are today.

These tests were done on women only. Scientists have yet to examine whether the experience is the same for men.


4 (Much) more of you to love.

In the fight for the fickle attention of scientific researchers, there are winners… and there are civets.

Size matters. A lot. That’s what researchers found when they analyzed 16,500 published papers about carnivores from walruses to weasels.

Bears crushed the competition, averaging more than 250 papers per species. The closest runner-up was the walrus, with 145 papers.

The researchers found that across all families, body size was correlated with how many papers were published on an animal. The top 20 most-researched animals included three kinds of bears, as well as lions, tigers, cheetahs, cougars, hyenas, and elephant seals. There were 28 species of Carnivora that didn’t appear in a single published paper. Out of those 28 species, 27 weigh five pounds or less - the size of a small chihuahua.

Each month I present a veterinary trivia contest at our local radio station KBKW. Here's the script for tomorrow morning. Listeners will get a prize if they can guess which statement is not true. Can you tell? Sorry, no prize here. Too easy when you have time to check it out.


Radio show 12/27/18 "Not Reindeer"

So Christmas is over now. The songs on the radio have changed, and we won't be hearing much about magical flying sleighs and reindeer for a while. Really, we won't! Today I'll be talking about magical flying… chariots. And the magical critters that pull them.

There's the Greek god Apollo's chariot, for starters. It was pulled by swans, but everyone is pretty sure none of them was his dad, Zeus, who once transformed himself into a swan to seduce the mortal woman Leda. That's Leda, not Leto. Leto is Apollo's mom. Leda would be his step-mom, I guess, except that Zeus never bothered to marry either of them. Zeus was not a very nice guy.

And then we have the Roman god Poseidon's chariot, pulled by a team of dolphins. It flew through the water, mostly, but his dolphin team had no trouble flying up to parties on Mount Olympus when directed to do so. Deity-grade magic is useful that way.

Thor's chariot was pulled rumbling and sparking across the sky by his two goats Tanngnjóstr (teeth gnasher) and Tanngrisnir (teeth grinder). These goats were fond of eating human flesh, when they could get it, but in fairness it must be said that Thor had set a bad example for them. When he was hungry he would slay and eat them both, then bring them back to life the next morning. No wonder they were cranky. But of course, Tanngnjóstr and Tanngrisnir were Scandinavian goats, after all. That also might have affected their attitude a bit.

Bygul and Trjegul were two cats that pulled the Norse goddess Freya's chariot. Personally I think this is the most impressive magic of all. Really now… persuading two cats to pull a cart… in the same direction… at the same time? When TOLD to do so? That takes god-like powers of the highest order.

Warning: Visiting aliens can be kind of…alien. At times. Snarkiness can result in unintended consequences.


“You ain’t nuthin’ but a houn’ dog… aw-roooo
Sniffen’ round nigh my back door… aw-rowww
You ain’t nuthin’ but a—”

“Sir?” Our cheapskate dawdle-watchers were angling for attention now but I pretended to ignore them. Put a little money down, comrades, and you’ll get all the attention you want. Why can’t they get that straight? Elvis snapped his jowls shut and glared at the newcomers while I continued playing and nudged my donation hat with a foot but—
“Sir? Excuse me, sir—or should I call you Mr. Presley? I love your music! And is that a genuine houn’ dog howlin’ by your side?”
I sighed and set my guitar down, resting it carefully on the new-mown roadside parkway strip so I wouldn’t stain the faded crimson candy gloss finish. Nice guitar, wonderful sound, not so pretty as she was in her youth but cheap. Cheap enough even even for me to afford. “Ahh… no,” I stalled, striving to focus my thoughts. When I play I think of nothing else, and the transition back to normal conversation can be jarring. If you wanna chat, dudes, can’t you at least let me finish the set, for pity’s sake?
Weird rubes, and I’ve seen some doozies, couldn’t say just what it was. Hair and faces and clothing just kind of… off. There were two of them, rudely staring at me, alike as peas in a pod and—no, not quite identical. One had mustard stains on the front of his store-new blue bib overalls. And a hat. Black-striped polyester tourist-crap abomination with the words “JAILHOUSE ROCK” in block letters across the front. That’s the one who had stopped my playing. Was he… er… she… er… best to go with he for lack of a better word… was he really unaware of just how annoying that is to a musician? Never mind, doesn’t matter, time to blow ‘em off and move along. The Graceland security guards would be sending us packing soon in any case. Elvis and I had chosen a busking spot outside their jurisdiction, on the public right of way, but the guards had come scowling by twice already and their city-police buddies were surely on the move to pay us a call. No matter, the afternoon was near-gone and the spot was worthless in any case. Lots of cars came by but few pedestrians, and my two cheapskates were the first to actually stop and listen. Maybe the downtown bars would prove more welcoming to our offbeat man-dog Elvis impersonation routine.
I stared back blankly until Elvis nudged my wrist, reminding me of my manners and giving me the bullshit inspiration I needed. I shrugged and sighed, then, clamping his head in my arm and scrunching his loose-skinned steel-gray-furred features into a silly hound-dog-ugly-mug-montage. I gestured theatrically with my free arm and proclaimed, “This is Elvis.”
“But… that cannot possibly be Elvis Presley. Elvis is human!”
“Well yes, he was, and I was his sidekick Lassie. What a difference a day makes!”
“Really? Zeta-Mom never mentioned—ow! Stop that Zorg… er… George. I wasn’t doing anything!” That was the mustard-stained one talking and the other one—Zorg—had shut him up by kicking his shin.
“You’re lying,” Zorg informed me, but his tone carried no conviction. “That’s not what we were told, anyway. Please explain yourself.”
“It’s a sad, sad tale, my friend, too sad to tell without a bit of tangible assistance, if you catch my drift…” I toe-nudged the tip hat again and my drift he did not catch, but I carried on with my story regardless; wanted to see for myself how it would end. “…we were on tour in the Crab Nebula, you see, the revenant King of Rock and me, his brain-boosted crowd-charming canine sidekick. Our act caught on and all was fine bloodwine and premium Taste-of-the-Tribble kibble ‘til we ran afoul of a gang of Andorian intellectual property smugglers who transmogrified us both as punishment for reporting their evil deeds to the Gallifreyan Copyright Constabulary.”
“You mean Arcturian smugglers, right?” prompted the mustard-stained one.
“Ziggy! Let the man tell his story!”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Ziggy muttered and…
“Yeah, yeah, Arcturian,” I agreed. “They wanted to record us without a proper contract and when we refused they got mad and transmogrified us both, then signed on Max Headroom in our place. That’s what hurt the most, you know. That dude can’t dance to save his virtual life! Really if they’d offered us a square deal we’d have jumped on it in a heartbeat. It’s all the same no matter where you go. Why is everybody in the music business always trying to rip you off? It just doesn’t make sense to—”
“Wait!” Ziggy squeaked. “Are you saying they transmogrified you?”
“Well, yeah…”
“Without permission and against your will?”
“Hey mon, we’s jest a couple o’ lowlife two-bit earthlin’s, eh? Aliens be messin’ wit us folk all de time an’ no one pay no mind.”
Ziggy puffed himself in righteous indignation and proclaimed, “That’s not right!”
“Well, no…”
“We need to fix it now!”
I toe-nudged the tip hat a third time and told him “Sure! Mr. Presley has sadly lost the gift of speech in this sad affair so on his behalf I willingly grant you permission to rectify our sorry circumstances forthwith, if’n you be so inclined. We shall consider ourselves forever in your debt.”
“Ok, I’ll do it!” Ziggy reached in a pocket and brought out not money but a space ray gun, or something much like one, complete with shimmer-sharp translucent lateral fins and three viridescent glow-pulsing muzzle disks and a bulgy twisted grip quite unsuited to the grasp of human hands. No matter that last part; the hand that held it no longer appeared human at all. It was four fingered, and purplish pebble-scaled gray, and one thick digit was squeezing firmly down on a bumpy blue nubbin that looked very much like—

Just reached five thousand page views for Foxed Contact! Some artists can reach that level in an hour but for me (or any writer on FA) that's a big deal.

Thank you.

Earbender

Bishopcorva has posted another story! If you're fond of tech-based furry stories with lots of violence, sex, gender-bending and interstellar clothing fashions, give his story series a try! To appreciate them best you should start here, at the beginning:

http://www.furaffinity.net/view/4620572

Ahah! Coyote Eggs is finished at last. Thank you all for the warm reception.

earbender

Has it really been seven months since I last posted a story? Sorry about that. Time flies and I have many (very much non-furry) people depending on me, so my writing tends to miss out.
Nevertheless I do have a story nearing completion. I think I'll be calling it Coyote Eggs.
Here is a teaser excerpt:

Testing, testing… is this thing turned on? Yes? Oh… ah… good. Guess I’ll get started then. First thing to say is—don’t mess with Coyote. He’s trouble. Yeah, I know. Kind of obvious looking at me, isn’t it?
I never wanted to, of course. Never intended to. How was I to know the petting-zoo coyote on my surgery table was actually Coyote—the genuine, magical bad-news trickster of song and story? He’s not real, people say, but I was never one of those people. I’ve always tried to keep an open mind.
Anyway, moving along; there he was, asleep and strapped splay-legged before me, clipped scrubbed and draped for a routine castration… and that’s what I did. He was my first coyote neuter but no different from the others: skillful slice-snip-stitch and Coyotyl’s huevos were in the gut bucket and himself snugly blanket-wrapped in his shiny stainless steel recovery room cage. He was not pleased when the anesthetic wore off.
No, he was not pleased at all. I remember every word he said.
“You ash… asshole… what have you done to me?” he growl-mumbled as I gently massaged him awake. I was taken aback by these words, as you might expect. My patients cussed me out on a regular basis but never in human speech! It was also unusual for me to be tending a surgical recovery unassisted, but the hour was late so I had let my staff go home when the prep work was done and now I was by myself with a drugged, drunken canine and a cock-n-bull story involving a wedding party at the petting zoo, an untended bowl of spiked rum punch, and a flagrant cross-species rape attempt on the maid of honor. This was not the reprobate’s first offense and the petting zoo’s owner was a good client, and desperate, and the staff told me I really, really ought to accept the case… and so it goes. Such is the life of a divorce-impoverished relief veterinarian in southern Nevada rural practice.
But yes, back to the talking coyote. We veterinarians really are not accustomed to such things. We are accustomed to unsolved mysteries, unpleasant surprises, and unexplainable behavior in general, however. One learns to go with the flow. One also learns to keep one’s eye on the teeth at first hint of trouble and to count one’s fingers before and afterward.
Not so sure about the talking bit, but trouble was most definitely hinting so I edged back on my heels and eased the cage door closed, not latching it yet but keeping it between us, just in case. The guy was large for a coyote but still less than half my size. Seemed like ample protection at the time.
“What have you done?” the coyote repeated, wiggling free from his blanket cocoon. His voice was stronger now, all traces of confusion gone from it.
“You’ve just had surgery,” I soothed, voice soft and blandly professional, “It’s quite normal to feel ill and confused when waking up from—”
“What surgery?” the coyote snarled. He nosed between his hind legs, where it was quite obvious to him what sort of surgery had been done, then rolled his head back to fix me with a malignant, cold-smoldering yellow gaze. “Mortal,” he hissed, “do you have any idea what you’ve just done? I ought to—” Then the coyote stopped, mouth half-open, and began to laugh. Without warning he lunged forward, still laughing, knocking me on my ass and tearing the cage door loose from my grasp. His teeth slashed down hard, yanked back harder then he was gone and I was doubled up in pain, both hands pressed tight to—

And that's all I can show, for here and now (gotta keep the blogspace clean, ya know). I will try hard to have the whole story done soon. It will be listed as adult material, of course, so if you are looking for it be sure to have your viewing preferences set accordingly.