And The Clocks Were Striking Thirteen (_redpanda_) wrote in metaquotes,
And The Clocks Were Striking Thirteen

Context: ursulav is trying to get enough artwork done/together for an upcoming con...

....and yet, far down in that hollow cavern under my breastbone, the one that fills with the sensation of thousands of small screaming animals clawing their way to the top of the heap when I suffer the anxiety of doing my taxes or filling out student loan paperwork, or smell a Con on the horizon -- far down in the bottom, heretofore empty, a lone tiny animal just trudged into view. It is a vague, nondescript, rounded little animal, a colorless hamsterish Anxiety Creature, eyes squeezed tightly shut, with stubby limbs and tiny, scratchy little claws.

And it just screamed.

The pre-con panic begins.

EDIT: Now illustrated!

Have had to swab cheeks for gene samples for this study I signed up for. It's to attempt to find if the genetic factor (if any) for mathematical ability. Test + gene test. They sent ten swabs and you were supposed to use them all. (I dropped one. Whoops.) How much genetic matter do these people need? Or is 'gene study' now Cambridge code for 'building our own clone army'? If so, how long before we get to break away from the rest of the Republic UK?

-- jenlittlebottom

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