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from dozens

Had a fun little improv adventure time in the BBJ forums on town today. Here is a dump of the posts. “Part 2” is already underway, so I should be able to post a follow-up before too long 😄

0 ~dozens @ 16:11 2021/08/30

So here you are. You look down at the crumpled map in your hand, the one that you snatch from the Bulletin Board in town and which is for some reason slightly sticky with jelly. Yep, this is the place.

The reward for this job, should you be able to pull it off, will be more than enough to clear your debt with the Guild.

You peer into the clearing and see a smoldering campfire near the entrance to the cave. A figure is reclined and seems to be sleeping by the fire. You don't see anybody else.

WHAT DO


1 ~dzwdz @ 01:24 2021/08/31

PULL OUT MY COMICALLY LARGE SWORD


2 ~dozens @ 08:04 2021/08/31

1[dzwdz]

You peer over your shoulder at the small trench your Comically Large Sword had carved into the ground behind you. You haven't figured out a way to carry it without the tip dragging on the ground. It's a blessing and a curse: you're laughably easy to track if anybody decides to follow you. But you also pretty much can't get lost. Built in bread crumbs!

You shrug and draw the sword. Should you even be able physically able to lift this thing? Anime physics apply to BBJ: the RPG I guess.

You sneakily sneak into the clearing and up to the campfire. The sleeping figure appears to be a groll, and they continue to snooze soundly. They're wearing a coat of many pockets and a belt of many pouches. The remains of a cooked meal sit by the fire. The dark cave opening looms ahead.


3 ~opfez @ 08:14 2021/08/31

2[You]

REMIND MYSELF OF THE TASK I AM HERE FOR


4 ~dozens @ 08:36 2021/08/31 [edited]

3[opfez]

You stand uffishly in thought for a moment staring into the fire. What is it you're doing here again?

Oh yeah! You're here to retrieve a stolen item from the cave! (Those pesky Cave Lads stole chests full of blankets and costumes needed for the Festival of Remembering tomorrow night, or else all the children and grandmas will cry!!) And then claim the cash reward, and then pay off your debt with the Guild. Easy peasy.

You snap out of deep thought—wiping away a tear at the thought of brokenhearted grandmas and children—when you hear the groll stirring behind you. It mumbles uneasily in its sleep, “The sky is a neighborhood ... no way back ... my poor brain...”

WHAT DO


5 ~dzwdz @ 08:55 2021/08/31

2 > Should you even be able physically able to lift this thing? Our hero is just /that/ buff.

4 > WHAT DO PAT THE GROLL


6 ~dozens @ 09:13 2021/08/31

5[dzwdz]

You stoop down and gently stroke the groll's fur, quietly singing a little song about crows and bones to soothe it. It smiles and murmurs happily and settles back to sleep.

As it rolls over, its Coat of Many Pockets falls open and a small pouch tumbles out with a jankity clank and comes to rest at your feet.

WHAT DO


7 ~dzwdz @ 12:01 2021/08/31

PUT IT BACK IN THEIR COAT. heroes don't steal.


8 ~dozens @ 13:37 2021/08/31

7[dzwdz]

You awkwardly pass your Comically Large Sword into your offhand and bend down to pick up the pouch. The contents of the pouch shift abruptly in your hand like a bunch of jump beans, and you fumble the pouch as you try to return it to the groll.

The pouch hits the ground, and the leather cord around the opening comes loose, spilling its contents: a few dozen small, smooth pebbles scatter across the dirt in front of the fire.

As you watch, the pebbles flip end over end, tumbling toward each other, and then pile on top of each other forming a tiny little humanoid shape about the size of your hand. Two small dark stones in the center of its “face” look up at you. The human shape collapses suddenly with a soft clickety-clack-clack as the stones hit the ground and flip around and spell out an “H” and an “I”. Then the stones assemble back into the (adorably cute) little pebble golem.

WOT DO


9 ~chorigato @ 16:15 2021/08/31

I SLEEP>>0


10 ~dozens @ 18:25 2021/08/31

9[chorigato]

You consider curling up next to the groll by the fire and taking a rest, but decide now is not the time.

You hear some faint shuffling footsteps and low voices coming from just inside the mouth of the cave. What's this? A patrol? Some nefarious cave creatures coming to devour you? What are they going to do, disarm you and swallow you whole? What do they think of you as, some kind of tasty meal? Are they going to eat you? Would they start at your feet and work their way up, or swallow you head first?

You shake your head to clear the intrusive thoughts and grip your Comically Large Sword tightly in both hands. You'll be nobody's meal today! And then you notice that the pebble golem has started running ahead of you on its tiny little legs, click-clacking toward the cave entrance.

OH NO WHAT DO YOU DO


11 ~dzwdz @ 23:53 2021/08/31

A single Comically Large Sword won't be enough for this.

PULL OUT MY OTHER COMICALLY LARGE SWORD


12 ~dozens @ 08:50 2021/09/01

11[dzwdz]

You are now dual wielding two Comically Large Swords, one in your left hand and one in your right, like a ninja with comically large katanas.

Two cave brats emerge from the dark mouth of the cave: feathery feline floofy owl-cat looking creatures with huge eyes and vestigial, gossamer, insect-like wings folded across the back of their shoulders too small to allow flight; they might be able to glide short distances at best.

They shuffle forward and stop as the pebble golem rushes toward them. It stops in front of the brats and looks up at them, and they look down curiously at it.

They are much bigger than the pebble golem but much smaller than you.

IT'S GETTING KIND OF CROWDED IN HERE


13 ~dzwdz @ 08:54 2021/09/01 [edited]

GO AWAY. I HATE CROWDS AND I'M FEELING ANXIOUS ALREADY


14 ~dozens @ 09:34 2021/09/01

13[dzwdz]

You start to get kind of nervous and sweaty. Two cave brats, a pebble golem, and a groll is... kind of a lot. You don't do that well with crowds. It's just a lot of pressure, you know? What if you do something foolish or say something dumb and they start to judge you? Are your comically large swords /too/ large? Argh, what were you thinking! Should have just gotten normal sized swords! Omg are they looking at you now?

You dive behind a large knobby gourd and take a few deep breaths. Okay. You've got this.

If the cave brats were to look your way right now, they'd see what looks like a strange pumpkin with two comically large swords sticking out from behind it.

You calm your nerves a little bit and peek out from behind the kobby gourd only to see the pebble golem leading the cave brats right toward you!

GET IT TOGETHER MAN


15 ~josh @ 09:41 2021/09/01

THEY'RE DEFINITELY JUDGING MY SWORDS. DROP THEM AND WIELD THE PUMPKIN


16 ~dzwdz @ 09:47 2021/09/01

NO BUT WHAT IF I GET ATTACKED CHANGE MY MIND, PICK UP THE SWORDS AGAIN


17 ~nihilazo @ 09:55 2021/09/01

THROW THE SWORDS TO THE PEBBLE GOLEM, THEY ARE A FRIEND


18 ~bx @ 09:57 2021/09/01

THROW ONE SWORD TO THE PEBBLE GOLEM AND DUAL WIELD THE REMAINING SWORD AND PUMPKIN


19 ~josh @ 09:57 2021/09/01

THIS IS TOO STRESSFUL! CRY.


20 ~dozens @ 10:18 2021/09/01

Ah, at long last. This is the moment of your Awakening. You've been wondering for ages what your Archetype is. Fighter? You're handy with a sword. Thief? Yes, you can do a sneak. Ranger? You can hunt and track.

No. You are apparently a Barbarian. Fueled not by rage, but by social anxiety.

You fly into a Panic Attack!!!

You leap out from behind the knobby gourd and startle the cave brats. They screech and hiss. The pebble golem runs up to you thrusting its tiny arms into the air and seems to be cheering you?

You drop your swords on the ground, and then self consciously pick them back up. Then you drop one sword and wield the gourd. Then you drop the gourd and arm the pebble golem with the one sword you're still holding (it just stands menacingly next to the sword like an angry kitten since it cannot /possibly/ lift the thing). Then you throw your remaining sword at the cave brats: it spins end over end like a whirring blade frisbee and slap chops one of the brats leaving a cloud of feathers and fur. Finally you once again wield the gourd like a club and rush toward the remaining brat, with a rousing battle cry of, “I JUST NEED SOME SPAAAAACE!” and then pulverize the brat with the knobby gourd.

You stand heaving, catching your breath, gourd gripped in your hand, cave brats obliterated.

There's a “whizzzBANG!!” and a heavy impact kicks up the dirt at your feet. You spin toward the campfire to find that your antics have awakened the groll. They are pointing a crackle twig right at you!

WEAPONIZED SOCIAL ANXIETY!


21 ~dzwdz @ 10:22 2021/09/01

it just stands menacingly next to the sword like an angry kitten since it cannot /possibly/ lift the thing

ENCOURAGE THE GOLEM TO NEVER GIVE UP WITHOUT TRYING


22 ~dozens @ 10:40 2021/09/01

21[dzwdz]

You take a moment to inspire the pebble golem with a rousing pep talk. It shifts a couple pebbles up to its arms to make it look like it has extra large pebbly biceps, and looks at the Comically Large Sword with resolute fierceness.

It cannot wrap its hands or even its arms around the hilt, so it falls apart into individual pebbles and burrows beneath it and tries to lift it from below.

The Comically Large Sword is lifted up off the ground a couple inches by a small pile of pebbles!

GOOD JOB LITTLE PEBBLE GOLEM!


23 ~cassii2 @ 10:59 2021/09/01

ATTEMPT TO NEGOTIATE WITH THE GROLL, TO LET THE GOLEM FREE WITHOUT A FIGHT SO YOU MAY JOURNEY TOGEHTER


24 ~josh @ 11:15 2021/09/01 [edited]

WAIT, NEGOTIATE?? THAT SOUNDS SCARY. WHAT IF WE JUST AWKWARDLY WAVE AT THE GROLL INSTEAD?


25 ~dozens @ 11:20 2021/09/01

23[cassii2]

You beam proudly down at the pebble golem. Good job little fella!

The high pitched whine of the crackle twig catches you attention as it recharges for another blast. You stand up and address the groll. “Hold on, groll! This is between you and me! Let the pebble golem go! They have nothing to do with this!”

The groll grins wickedly. “I'll tell ya what, hero. How about a trade? You give me both of your Comically Large Swords, and I'll let the little pile of rocks go. Sounds fair to me. What'dya say? Have we got a deal?”

WELL? HAVE WE GOT A DEAL, PUNK?


26 ~dozens @ 11:48 2021/09/01

24[josh]

You awkwardly wave at the groll.

”...what does that mean? That is not sufficient to create a binding contract. I need your verbal content: swords for pebbles. Do we have a deal or not?”

YES OR NO


27 ~cassii2 @ 11:49 2021/09/01 [edited]

IT'S NOT LIKE THIS GROLL CAN WIELD THE SWORDS, AND THEY'RE CUMBERSOME AND A BIT ANNOYING TO CARRY AROUND ANYWAY. ALSO I SEEM TO BE ABLE TO PULL THEM OUT OF THIN AIR WHENVER I WANT SO IT DOESN'T REALLY MATTER. I ACCEPT THE TRADE


28 ~dzwdz @ 11:56 2021/09/01

BUT WAIT, HOW DO I KNOW THAT THE PILE OF PEBBLES IS REALLY MY FRIEND? WHAT IF IT'S BEEN FAKING IT THE WHOLE TIME? THAT'S WAY MORE LIKELY THAN SOMEONE LIKING ME AND MY TWO COMICALLY OVERSIZED SWORDS

HESITATE


29 ~cassii2 @ 12:03 2021/09/01

I HAVE TO MAKE A CHOICE. DO I RUN AWAY FROK A POTENTIAL NEW FRIEND JUST SO I CAN AVOID THE POSSIBILITY OF EMOTIONAL PAIN? BUT WHAT IF THIS LITTLE GOLEM SEES THAT I'M ABANDONING HIM AND I TURN INTO THE ONE THAT HURTS OTHERS BY TAKING AWAY A FRIENDSHIP THAT THEY NEED JUST AS MUCH AS I DO?

I AM LOST TOO DEEP IN MY THOUGHTS TO MAKE A DECISION


31 ~dozens @ 12:33 2021/09/01

You nod and reach for your swords, but then stop. You hesitate, suddenly suspicious of the pebble golem.

On the one hand, adventures and friendship with the little golem sounds fantastic! On the other hand, how likely is it that this little guy is actually your friend? After all, didn't it just fall out of the groll's own pouch like, 11 or 8 minutes ago? Can you really trust it?

You wrestle with feelings of doubt and self-worth in a frozen stoop, hand outstretched toward the Comically Large Sword, unable to decide.

And then the sword slowly wobbles up from the ground toward your hand! It's the pebble golem! They're using all of their pebbly might to lift the heavy blade up to your outstretched hand, thinking they're helping you!

You close your eyes and whisper a heartfelt, “Thank you,” and grab that, and the other, Comically Large Sword, and toss them both down on the ground at the feet of the groll.

“I consent!” you declare confidently. The pebble golem tumbles over and stands on top of your right foot. You smile down at it before looking back to the groll. “We have a deal!”

The groll snickers and kicks the swords behind it so they lay next to its pack by the campfire.

“You made the right choice, hero,” the groll sneers. “FOR ME THAT IS!” the groll cackles, “Pebbles! Back in the pouch!”

The pebble jumps and looks up at you almost apologetically before falling apart and pebble tumbling back toward the groll.

DOUBLECROSS! HEARTBREAK!


32 ~dzwdz @ 12:38 2021/09/01 [edited]

RUSH AT THE GROOL, CRYING (remember that i'm extremely buff. enough to dualwield two comically large swords.)


33 ~cassii2 @ 12:52 2021/09/01

I'VE BEEN BETRAYED BY THE ONE FRIEND I'VE FOUND IN THIS WORLD. LOST, CONFUSED, UPSET AND MAYBE EVEN ANGRY, I DRAW MY THIRD COMICALLY LARGE SWORD.


34 ~dozens @ 12:55 2021/09/01 [edited]

32[dzwdz]

You fly into an emotional crisis!!!

The pebble golem leaps up into the groll's outstretched hand as the groll takes its time and aims its crackle twig at you. It seems to be waiting to fire off a shot at point blank range.

You are extremely buff and extremely crying and are about to get extremely blasted back to the stone age.

You don't care. The betrayal hurts too much. Your vision is blurry with tears, but you can see the groll smile with satisfaction as it starts to flick the crackle twig. And you can also see the blob of pebbles lurch from its one hand to the other, pebbles slamming against knuckles, knocking the crackle twig from its hand.

The groll cries out, wide-eyed in shock at both the pebbles' insubordination and at having its knuckles bruised.

It looks up to see you barreling toward it like a blubbering, screaming locomotive. It stoops down desperate and panicky to pick up the crackle twig, but the pebbles keep knocking it out of its grasp, and also bashing against its already bloodied knuckles.

You're on top of the groll now, hoisting your knobby gourd overhead, and you growl, “I. NEED. SOME. SPAAACE.” The groll shrieks and lifts its hands up defensively, but it cannot block the raining blows.

Afterward, you stand, chest heaving, trying to collect yourself again.

The pebble golem rolls over and settles contentedly in a pile on top of your right foot.

THE REAL FRIENDS ARE THE PEBBLES WE FOUND ALONG THE WAY


35 ~dozens @ 13:01 2021/09/01 [edited]

33[cassii2]

You slip your hand into your trans-dimensional hip pouch and grope around for your third Comically Large Sword, but come up empty handed. You must have only packed two Comically Large Swords for this outing, which is very unlike you actually. Your Aunt Gladys would click her tongue and wag her finger at you for packing fewer than half a dozen Comically Large Swords, and honestly you would deserve it.

MAKE DUE WITH WHAT YOU HAVE

36 ~cassii2 @ 13:17 2021/09/01 [edited]

NEW FRIEND IN TOW, FEELING UN-BETRAYED AND A BIT HAPPIER NOW THAT YOU HAVE A FRIEND, YOU FINALLY ADVANCE TOWARDS THE CAVE TO GET THE STOLEN ITEMS. LIKE YOU WERE ORIGINALLY HERE FOR. SURE HOPE THAT NO ONE SAW YOU GET EMOTIONAL, THAT WAS A BIT EMBARRASSING.


TO BE CONTINUED?

 
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from dozens

The fact that Sparks is one of the greatest pop bands of all time is not up for debate, nor is it the focus of this letter. If it were, I'd write about their constant reinvention, the fact that they've put out a banger album almost every year since the early 1970s, their musical arrangements, their live performances, or Russel's ability to deliver Ron's lyrics.

Actually, I am here to write about Ron's lyrics.

2020's A Steady Drip, Drip, Drip is a phenomenal album that opens with the soaring All That, a standout track and a straightforward love song with lines like “I'm with you ‘til God says it's time to go” and “Each street we walk on’s Les Champs-Elysées”.

It's a retrospective, a look back. “All that we've done ... All that we've seen.” and it's quite lovely.

And then in the middle of the song, there's this couplet:

I can't believe my luck in meeting you Hey, help me out, I can't find my left shoe

It's jarring, what appears to be a non-sequitur, a rhyme just to be silly. (And Sparks has more than their fair share of silly songs.) It sticks out all the more because of the directness and sincerity of the rest of the song.

But on reflection, I think this line is written and delivered in earnest. In two lines it perfectly describes the entire course of a long companionship. Beginning with a lucky, chance meeting, and then maturing into a state of support, comfort, and reliability. There is nothing more mundane and profound as a shared life, walking the most beautiful avenue in the world, and looking for missing shoes together.

So while the couplet at first seems out of place, I actually think it makes the entire song, while remaining superficially humorous.

And that's why Ron Mael is a genius, and Sparks is one the greatest pop bands of all time.

 
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from dozens

The cultural meaning and social contract of nine men's morris, or “mills”, are interwoven with each other, and deeply rooted in its origins as a game of the people. Its simple board can be scratched into dirt or cleared in a field, and can be played with simple pieces. Quick, accessible, and portable, it was a game for workers and laborers.

This egalitarian nature of the game can also be seen in its end condition: the game is finished when one player is reduced to 2 pieces. Other popular abstract board games don't end until one side is completely wiped out. (Checkers, chess, e.g.) But in mills, the losing side always has two of their own pieces remaining, and is afforded a modicum of dignity in loss.

Furthermore, mills can be played as a gambling game. Consider playing with coins as pieces. One side heads, and other tails. It is possible for the losing side to “lose optimally” by taking a large number of their opponents pieces, while also retaining their own final two pieces on the board. It is possible for a player to lose, but still keep the majority of their coins, instead of losing it all and being wiped out. Even if one loses horribly, they at the very least get to keep their final two coins. This further shows the egalitarian nature of the game, and demonstrates how winning can be more cooperative, as opposed to one side utterly dominating the other. This is the social contract of the game: there will be a winner and a loser, but we will not destroy one another.

The shape of the board game itself has in the past taken on extra cultural meaning. It has been found carved into walls and ceilings, places where you obviously couldn't play the game. It served as a decoration, talisman, or ward.

I believe that its cultural meaning in this case was elevated by the previously mentioned social contract, and that the board can be viewed as a talisman of luck, or as a means of protection against misfortune. As an assurance that even should the worst happen, one would at least keep their last two pieces and not lose everything.

Reference: Nine Men's Morris: cultural meanings, social contracts and game mechanisms Dr Barnaby Dicker, Loco Ludus podcast

 
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from raghavgururajan

Why XMPP is better than Matrix?

[1] EVOLUTION AND NATURAL SELECTION:

I was obsessed with this question for a long-time. Which is the best IM protocol that exists today?

When I asked this to my dear friend, whose work is related to evolutionary biology, he replied “I have no ideas when it comes to computers. But I know this. Anything in this world that has survived for a long-time, had to be fit to withstand selective pressures. So look at what existed for long time, that's probably has properties to adapt well.”. Holy hell! Being a biotechnologist, I had to slap myself for not thinking this on my own.

But what makes a protocol fit? For that I looked at biology first. For a being to evolve, the process happens both forward and backward. That is, the being must pickup (forward) a new feature that will make it fit or drop (backward) a existing feature that is hindering it to be fit. Most importantly, the being must have properties (information in genetic material) that gives it these abilities (pickup or drop features), in the first place.

Now, what properties might that be for protocols? Extensibility and Modularity. If a protocol is both extensible and modular, it can pickup or drop a feature when needed (Well, protocol is not sentient, developers are the ones who do things). These properties (extensibility and modularity) must be innate nature (design model?) of the protocol, so that it can evolve in response to selective pressures. Here, selective pressures refers to needs of that protocol.

Why both properties and not just any one of them? As mentioned earlier, evolution is both forward and backward. If a protocol only is extensible, you cannot easily drop a extended feature, if it becomes obsolete, security-critical or blot. If a protocol is only modular, you cannot easily extend a feature in demand. So a protocol that is both extensible and modular, is fitter than, a protocol that has only one of these properties. In other words, Extensibility and Modularity are evolutionary properties of a protocol.

By design, XMPP has these evolutionary properties, whereas Matrix does not.

[2] IGNORANCE:

Matrix seems to be started because of ignorance. Its stated in its website, under “Imagine a world”, the reasons why matrix was started and/or aiming to achieve. Now, there was already XMPP, in which said goals could have been achieved with either existing XEPs or creating new XEPs. Instead, a new protocol was designed from scratch.

I think this kind of trend “Protocol ABC doesn't have this XYZ feature, so let me start a protocol from scratch” should be discouraged. It causes even more fragmentation in IM realm.

This is the very situation where matrix devs should have made use of the properties of XMPP to improve it. Even the outstanding feature (I admit. its a fantastic idea) of matrix, decentralized conversation store, could have been implemented in XMPP as an XEP. Imagine the time and effort spent on improving XMPP, instead of reinventing wheels in matrix. We could have had a neat ubiquitous IM platform.

[3] FLEXIBLE DEPLOYMENT:

IM platforms should be able to be deployed as minimal as possible or as feature as possible. Certain features should be able to be optionally enabled or disabled, based on the needs of the deployer.

For example, if an activist collective decides to provide IM service to its members, but doesn't want to store any messages on server for privacy purposes but to only queue the messages to deliver to clients (like POP instead of IMAP), it can be done by dropping (backward adaptation) the XEP responsible for archiving. Matrix cannot do this.

[3] FINAL THOUGHTS:

Please note that these are criticisms towards Matrix over XMPP, not hate. I appreciate the work done by Matrix devs, especially on decentralized conversation store. It is my current notion that, it will be better for XMPP and Matrix devs to combine their efforts by improving XMPP and bring matrix features to it via XEPs. XEP-Matrix?

 
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from Julian Marcos

I installed Linux on a Laptop for it and a few weeks later the wifi stoped working and i needed to buy a external adapter on a small usb device.

That worked but im a bit meh :P

 
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from dozens

The High Grand Looker Upper Guild Council is the governing oversight body of the individual Grand Looker Upper Guilds, including the Association of Cloud Peepers, the Star Gazers, the Solarians, and the Lunar Society.

It provides shared resources to the guilds, mediates interguild disputes, and acts as a disciplinary body when necessary.

This original Grand Looker Upper Guild suffered infighting and schisms and eventually dissolved into the present day guilds. Each of the modern guilds believes itself to bear the torch and embody the spirit of the original.

1. Association of Cloud Peepers

The Cloud Peepers concern themselves with the shape and form of clouds. They are the most open and egalitarian of the Grand Looker Upper Guilds, accepting any and all applicants.

Members often act solitary, but sometimes organize into loosely federated groups called billows.

Their chief output is drawings and sketches of shapes they see in passing clouds, making order out of disorder. Some peepers believe in an almost divinatory quality of their work. They are dreamers, artists, and painters.

They require no special tools or conditions to do their work other than a view of the sky.

2. Star Gazers

Numerologists, mathematicians, astrologers, and astronomers, the Star Gazers chart and track the movement of the stars. Ruled by logic and science, they stand in stark contrast to the dreamy, artsy cloud peepers.

They are highly organized and elect new guild officials every year.

They operate chiefly at night, and ideally in sparsely populated areas far away from the light pollution of urban areas.

3. Solarians

The Solarians are also into stars in a way, but only just the one. Ours. Sol.

They are a boisterous and rowdy bunch, into athleticism and feats of strength and daring. They live life fully and deeply. They go nuts at sunrise and sunset, reveling in the dramatic bursts of color. They are often loud and flashy, and wear obnoxiously bright colors.

They have a nurturing side though, too. Solarians honor the sun and the life it supports by growing and cultivating plants. Their greenhouses are legendary, and they have created numerous hybrid fruits and plant strains.

4. Lunar Society

The most secretive and select of the Grand Looker Upper Guilds. The lunar society organizes into individual covens which operate independently of each other and meet on the full moon.

They are mystics whose works take on an almost religious aspect. They are historians, keepers of lore and myths, who chronicle events by the phases of the moon.

 
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from dozens

I consider myself pretty serious. It wasn't until after I died for Captain Ratperson Boatdriver one time that I went out to eat. Command line nerd the first time, I discovered an actual rat who lived in a nice vegan restaurant for brunch. Sed, awk, grep, the true nature of reality. Cacophony, a slaver's ship, and I ordered a tofu scramble. Cut, sort, tr, but I who suffered from reverse had never heard of this macro. Well, the nature of reality for lycanthropy due to an unexpected processor. It seemed very mysterious to some of us. For me at least. Is there any other kind? Wild when the food came out, I was us and obscure when I first encountered a magic surge from a young woman given a plate of scrambled tofu.

After I died, I woke up being transported in the cargo, much to my chagrin. On top of a pillar, way up. Which means that Ratperson later mentioned it. I'm not 100% sure when and where I fit in the clouds. Before me was Boatdriver, a rat who would follow diners, asked me how my meal first encountered m4. A small stone pedestal about waist high would time to time turn into a human. I said it was good but may have in the colophon. One of many arranged Ratperson organized the slaves. I was disappointed because I ordered technomancy where the circle around the center of the rats in a revolt over tofu scramble. Not the author boasts that the main platform on top of the empowered slaver crew and the tofu site is published via GNU. A configuration of glass bowls threw the captain overboard.

Little did I know that this which was super attractive in a certain way. I was reborn Boatdriver, went on to captain, would go down in history the minimalist in me, and lived an entirely new life in that ship the rest of his days and live on in infamy for all time as an entirely new person with the sorceress at his side.

I then remember reading notes and when I died again the next he established democratic socialism still even unto this very day on the M4 Macro Language. I returned to my pedestal among the freed slaves. I will sometimes be laughed at on my phone in the airport on the platform. There was a new rat. And among them for insisting there is a difference on my way off to vacation bowl in addition to the other crew who were worth saving between the two. Trying to learn more that were there last time, I and they all flourished and still even unto this very day this mysterious little program had to spend the time to figure out safety, freedom, and liberty.

And I think, gentle reader, if that has been under my nose, how the bowl fit in with under Boatdriver banner and engage the smallest number this whole time, the existing ones but once The Cacophony amount of time, you will agree.

Later I found on github stacked them correctly, I was reborn. Ratperson had many rat children. Imagine for a moment a plate of tiny wrappers for m4. With again none of whom—so far as we know scrambled eggs.

Goal of easily including this pattern of repeated itself are werepeople. And he had got it good in your HTML. This was hundreds of times. Sometimes I loitered human children, one of whom was now imagine a breakfast scramble. That resonated with me on the platform, looking a wererat: Ratbone Boatdriver, sometimes called a breakfast zero overhead, framework-free, around at the other pedestals and inherited her father's shapeshifter skillet. A way of modularizing HTML for peering over the edge. Sometimes and eventually The Cacophony. These are radically different people like me who just want others to arrive at their own plan. She carried on the Boatdriver creatures.

Static content with no extra forms had to stack their own legacy of piracy and community. The former is merely a couple of tools or bloat bowls before returning. Some Ratperson's son, Ratlock, did no eggs on a plate. Finally I can abstract out us got to know each other. Some inherit any form of lycanthropy with potatoes, onions, and peppers, and include them wherever I synced a schedule for a while wailing or piracy turning his salsa. It's a whole thing.

I want somebody and saw them after on the family business. He so it is with scrambled tofu.

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It was glorious. Life was difficult now, a real adventure out on the sea at the steam or roast some carrots. Except, I couldn't help the feel challenge. Some never make it back to the helm of The Cacophony. This step is important! I'm that it could be better, unable to solve the puzzle. As he neared adulthood, Ratcliff that big fan of raw carrots was still doing a lot of things. Shattering their bowls trying used his father's riches to put I don't think they have much by hand like updating all I finally stacked my thousand bowls. Chase a fishing boat he named Flavor or Substance. But the posts page of my blog and I howl and lived another lifetime ruckus. He spends his days cooked carrots here add a good amount. The sneaking suspicion that when I got back to the platform on the water trawling and sent of flavor could get a lot more though. There was just the two setting and checking traps and put it all together in a pan. If only I could fully grasp one for the life I had. Just selling his catches at Boatdriver's for a minute to let the flavor, the potential of these macros lived. And one that, when stacked but he still dreams constantly come together.


Sources:

 
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from KiddyTheKid

Caturday Fundamentals A Brief history By Kiddy

Caturday is celebrated each Saturday (and many other days of the week as Kranfahrer stated) to express love to our feline companions in the world full of troubles. As far as we know, animals are the purest living beings this earth has and you know you are in the right way when one of this creatures comes to you to get love and stays.

Caturday start day and creator is unknown but as Stux said “My bet is on one mighty cat out there somewhere” which reveals to us that the beginning of this could have been since the day of ancient Egypt around 3100 BC.

Enough said, let’s celebrate Caturday as it should be, letting our cats enjoy the day.

 
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from ben

write.tildeverse.org

please stop making spam accounts here.

it's really annoying to have to go through and clear them out all the time!

if you see more spam accounts, please message me on irc or send me an email (ben AT tilde DOT team) and i can take care of it.

also, if i accidentally delete you, please do the same.

cheers!

UPDATE:

I've disabled open signups, so you'll need to contact me if you would like an invite.

 
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from Nova

Friendships made during my stay on the Fediverse :

  • Λ1BΛƬЯӨƧƧ | @a1batross@expired.mentality.rip
  • AlkaSeltzer (aka Phénix) | @phenix@mstdn.social
  • Daya | @princessgentoo@gentoo.live
  • DignifiedSilence | @4ioskd@ukadon.shillest.net
  • Drudas | https://t.me/drudas
  • Isi | @isi@princess.cat
  • Jing | @Jing@mstdn.social
  • Kettlevoid | @kettlevoid@koyu.space
  • Kiddy the Kid | @KiddyTheKid@mstdn.social
  • Meeper | @Meeper@blob.cat
  • Norain (aka Lagertha) | @lagertha@mstdn.social
  • Lynx | @Lynx264@mstdn.social
  • (◡ ω ◡) | @lowol@koyu.space
  • PrettyPink | @PrettyPink@mstdn.social
  • Resynth | @resynth1943@mastodon.tedomum.net
  • Sathariel | @sathariel@gentoo.live
  • Simple Penguin | @SimplePenguin@mstdn.social
  • Toyha | @toyha@landofkittens.social
 
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from mikelalasmuto@gmx.es

Entremés de La cueva de Salamanca

Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

Salen PANCRACIO, LEONARDA y CRISTINA.

  

PANCRACIO.–   Enjugad, señora, esas lágrimas, y poned pausa a vuestros suspiros, considerando que cuatro días de ausencia no son siglos. Yo volveré, a lo más largo, a los cinco, si Dios no me quita la vida; aunque será mejor, por no turbar la vuestra, romper mi palabra, y dejar esta jornada; que sin mi presencia se podrá casar mi hermana.

 

LEONARDA.–   No quiero yo, mi Pancracio y mi señor, que por respeto mío vos parezcáis descortés; id en hora buena, y cumplid con vuestras obligaciones, pues las que os llevan son precisas; que yo me apretaré con mi llaga y pasaré mi soledad lo menos mal que pudiere. Sólo os encargo la vuelta, y que no paséis del término que habéis puesto.

Tenme, Cristina, que se me aprieta el corazón.

 

(Desmáyase LEONARDA.)

  

CRISTINA.–   ¡Oh, que bien hayan las bodas y las fiestas! En verdad, señor, que, si yo fuera que vuesa merced, que nunca allá fuera.

 

PANCRACIO.–   Entra, hija, por un vidro de agua para echársela en el rostro. Mas espera; diréle unas palabras que sé al oído, que tienen virtud para hacer volver de los desmayos.

 

(Dícele las palabras; vuelve LEONARDA diciendo:)

  

LEONARDA.–   ¡Basta!, ello ha de ser forzoso; no hay sino tener paciencia, bien mío; cuanto más os detuviéredes, más dilatáis mi contento. Vuestro compadre Loniso os debe de aguardar ya en el coche. Andad don Dios; que Él os vuelva tan presto y tan bueno como yo deseo.

   -fol. 248v-   

PANCRACIO.–   Mi ángel, si gustas que me quede, no me moveré de aquí más que una estatua.

 

LEONARDA.–   No, no, descanso mío; que mi gusto está en el vuestro; y, por agora, más que os vais que no os quedéis, pues es vuestra honra la mía.

 

CRISTINA.–   ¡Oh, espejo del matrimonio! A fe que si todas las casadas quisiesen tanto a sus maridos como mi señora Leonarda quiere al suyo, que otro gallo les cantase.

 

LEONARDA.–   Entra, Cristinica, y saca mi manto, que quiero acompañar a tu señor hasta dejarle en el coche.

 

PANCRACIO.–   No, por mi amor; abrazadme y quedaos, por vida mía.

Cristinica, ten cuenta de regalar a tu señora, que yo te mando un calzado cuando vuelva, como tú le quisieres.

 

CRISTINA.–   Vaya, señor, y no lleve pena de mi señora, porque la pienso persuadir de manera a que nos holguemos, que no imagine en la falta que vuesa merced le ha de hacer.

 

LEONARDA.–   ¿Holgar yo? ¡Qué bien estás en la cuenta, niña! Porque, ausente de mi gusto, no se hicieron los placeres ni las glorias para mí; penas y dolores, sí.

 

PANCRACIO.–   Ya no lo puedo sufrir. Quedad en paz, lumbre destos ojos, los cuales no verán cosa que les dé placer hasta volveros a ver.

 

(Éntrase PANCRACIO.)

  

LEONARDA.–   ¡Allá darás, rayo, en casa de Ana Díaz. Vayas, y no vuelvas; la ida del humo. Por Dios, que esta vez no os han de valer vuestras valentías ni vuestro recatos!

 

CRISTINA.–   Mil veces temí que con tus estremos habías de estorbar su partida y nuestros contentos.

 

LEONARDA.–   ¿Si vendrán esta noche los que esperamos?

 

CRISTINA.–   ¿Pues no? Ya los tengo avisados, y ellos están tan en ello, que esta tarde enviaron con la lavandera, nuestra secretaria, como que eran paños, una canasta de colar, llena de mil regalos y de cosas de comer, que no parece sino [u]no de los serones que da el rey el Jueves Santo a sus pobres; sino que la canasta es de Pascua, porque hay en ella empanadas, fiambreras, manjar blanco, y dos capones que aún no están acabados de pelar, y todo género de fruta de la que hay ahora; y, sobre todo, una bota de hasta una arroba de vino, de lo de una oreja, que huele que traciende.

 

LEONARDA.–   Es muy cumplido, y lo fue siempre, mi Riponce, sacristán de las telas de mis entrañas.

 

CRISTINA.–   Pues, ¿qué le falta a mi maese Nicolás, barbero de mis hígados y navaja de mis pesadumbres, que así me las rapa y quita cuando le veo, como si nunca las hubiera tenido?

   -fol. 249r-   

LEONARDA.–   ¿Pusiste la canasta en cobro?

 

CRISTINA.–   En la cocina la tengo, cubierta con un cernadero, por el disimulo.

 

(Llama a la puerta el ESTUDIANTE Carraolano, y, en llamando, sin esperar que le respondan, entra.)

  

LEONARDA.–   Cristina, mira quién llama.

 

ESTUDIANTE.–   Señoras, yo soy, un pobre estudiante.

 

CRISTINA.–   Bien se os parece que sois pobre y estudiante, pues lo uno muestra vuestro vestido, y el ser pobre vuestro atrevimiento. Cosa estraña es ésta, que no hay pobre que espere a que le saquen la limosna a la puerta, sino que se entran en las casas hasta el último rincón, sin mirar si despiertan a quien duerme, o si no.

 

ESTUDIANTE.–   Otra más blanda respuesta esperaba yo de la buena gracia de vuesa merced; cuanto más, que yo no quería ni buscaba otra limosna, sino alguna caballeriza o pajar donde defenderme esta noche de las inclemencias del cielo, que, según se me trasluce, parece que con grandísimo rigor a la tierra amenazan.

 

LEONARDA.–   ¿Y de dónde bueno sois, amigo?

 

ESTUDIANTE.–   Salmantino soy, señora mía; quiero decir que soy de Salamanca. Iba a Roma con un tío mío, el cual murió en el camino, en el corazón de Francia. Vime solo; determiné volverme a mi tierra; robáronme los lacayos o compañeros de Roque Guinarde, en Cataluña, porque él estaba ausente; que, a estar allí, no consintiera que se me hiciera agravio, porque es muy cortés y comedido, y además limosnero. Hame tomado a estas santas puertas la noche, que por tales las juzgo, y busco mi remedio.

 

LEONARDA.–   En verdad, Cristina, que me ha movido a lástima el estudiante.

 

CRISTINA.–   Ya me tiene a mí rasgadas las entrañas. Tengámosle en casa esta noche, pues de las sobras del castillo se podrá mantener el real; quiero decir que en las reliquias de la canasta habrá en quien adore su hambre; y más, que me ayudará a pelar la volatería que viene en la cesta.

 

LEONARDA.–   Pues, ¿cómo, Cristina, quieres que metamos en nuestra casa testigos de nuestras liviandades?

 

CRISTINA.–   Así tiene él talle de hablar por el colodrillo, como por la boca.

Venga acá, amigo: ¿sabe pelar?

 

ESTUDIANTE.–   ¿Cómo si sé pelar? No entiendo eso de saber pelar, si no es que quiere vuesa merced motejarme de pelón; que no hay para qué, pues yo me confieso por el mayor pelón del mundo.

 

CRISTINA.–   No lo digo yo por eso, en mi ánima, sino por saber si    -fol. 249v-   sabía pelar dos o tres pares de capones.

 

ESTUDIANTE.–   Lo que sabré responder es que yo, señoras, por la gracia de Dios, soy graduado de bachiller por Salamanca, y no digo...

 

LEONARDA.–   Desa manera, ¿quién duda sino que sabrá pelar no sólo capones, sino gansos y avutardas? Y, en esto del guardar secreto, ¿cómo le va? Y, a dicha, ¿[es] tentado de decir todo lo que vee, imagina o siente?

 

ESTUDIANTE.–   Así pueden matar delante de mí más hombres que carneros en el Rastro, que yo desplegue mis labios para decir palabra alguna.

 

CRISTINA.–   Pues atúrese esa boca, y cósase esa lengua con una agujeta de dos cabos, y amuélese esos dientes, y éntrese con nosotras, y verá misterios y cenará maravillas, y podrá medir en un pajar los pies que quisiere para su cama.

 

ESTUDIANTE.–   Con siete tendré demasiado: que no soy nada codicioso ni regalado.

 

(Entran el SACRISTÁN Reponce y el BARBERO.)

  

SACRISTÁN.–   ¡Oh, que en hora buena estén los automedones y guías de los carros de nuestros gustos, las luces de nuestras tinieblas, y las dos recíprocas voluntades que sirven de basas y colunas a la amorosa fábrica de nuestros deseos!

 

LEONARDA.–   ¡Esto sólo me enfada dél! Reponce mío: habla, por tu vida, a lo moderno, y de modo que te entienda, y no te encarames donde no te alcance.

 

BARBERO.–   Eso tengo yo bueno, que hablo más llano que una suela de zapato; pan por vino y vino por pan, o como suele decirse.

 

SACRISTÁN.–   Sí, que diferencia ha de haber de un sacristán gramático a un barbero romancista.

 

CRISTINA.–   Para lo que yo he menester a mi barbero, tanto latín sabe, y aún más, que supo Antonio de Nebrija; y no se dispute agora de ciencia ni de modos de hablar: que cada uno habla, si no como debe, a lo menos, como sabe; y entrémonos, y manos a labor, que hay mucho que hacer.

 

ESTUDIANTE.–   Y mucho que pelar.

 

SACRISTÁN.–   ¿Quién es este buen hombre?

 

LEONARDA.–   Un pobre estudiante salamanqueso, que pide albergo para esta noche.

 

SACRISTÁN.–   Yo le daré un par de reales para cena y para lecho, y váyase con Dios.

 

ESTUDIANTE.–   Señor sacristán Reponce, recibo y agradezco la merced y la limosna; pero yo soy mudo, y pelón además, como lo ha menester esta señora doncella, que me tiene convidado; y voto a...    -fol. 250r-   de no irme esta noche desta casa, si todo el mundo me lo manda. Confíese vuesa merced mucho de enhoramala de un hombre de mis prendas, que se contenta de dormir en un pajar; y si lo han por sus capones, péleselos el Turco y cómanselos ellos, y nunca del cuero les salgan.

 

BARBERO.–   Éste más parece rufián que pobre. Talle tiene de alzarse con toda la casa.

 

CRISTINA.–   No medre yo, si no me contenta el brío. Entrémonos todos, y demos orden en lo que se ha de hacer; que el pobre pelará y callará como en misa.

 

ESTUDIANTE.–   Y aun como en vísperas.

 

SACRISTÁN.–   Puesto me ha miedo el pobre estudiante; yo apostaré que sabe más latín que yo.

 

LEONARDA.–   De ahí le deben de nacer los bríos que tiene; pero no te pese, amigo, de hacer caridad, que vale para todas las cosas.

 

(Éntranse todos, y sale Leoniso, COMPADRE DE PANCRACIO, y PANCRACIO.)

  

COMPADRE.–   Luego lo vi yo que nos había de faltar la rueda; no hay cochero que no sea temático; si él rodeara un poco y salvara aquel barranco, ya estuviéramos dos leguas de aquí.

 

PANCRACIO.–   A mí no se me da nada; que antes gusto de volverme y pasar esta noche con mi esposa Leonarda, que en la venta; porque la dejé esta tarde casi para espirar, del sentimiento de mi partida.

 

COMPADRE.–   ¡Gran mujer! ¡De buena os ha dado el cielo, señor compadre! Dadle gracias por ello.

 

PANCRACIO.–   Yo se las doy como puedo, y no como debo; no hay Lucrecia que se [le] llegue, ni Porcia que se le iguale; la honestidad y el recogimiento han hecho en ella su morada.

 

COMPADRE.–   Si la mía no fuera celosa, no tenía yo más que desear. Por esta calle está más cerca mi casa; tomad, compadre, por éstas, y estaréis presto en la vuestra; y veámonos mañana, que [no] me faltará coche para la jornada. Adiós.

 

PANCRACIO.–   Adiós.

 

(Éntranse los dos.)

  

(Vuelven a salir el SACRISTÁN [y] el BARBERO, con sus guitarras; LEONARDA, CRISTINA y el ESTUDIANTE. Sale el SACRISTÁN con la sotana alzada y ceñida al cuerpo, danzando al son de su misma guitarra; y, a cada cabriola, vaya diciendo estas palabras:)

  

SACRISTÁN.–   ¡Linda noche, lindo rato, linda cena y lindo amor!

 

CRISTINA.–   Señor sacristán Reponce, no es éste tiempo de danzar; dése    -fol. 250v-   orden en cenar y en las demás cosas, y quédense las danzas para mejor coyuntura.

 

SACRISTÁN.–   ¡Linda noche, lindo rato, linda cena y lindo amor!

 

LEONARDA.–   Déjale, Cristina; que en estremo gusto de ver su agilidad.

 

(Llama PANCRACIO a la puerta, y dice:)

  

PANCRACIO.–   Gente dormida, ¿no oís? ¿Cómo, y tan temprano tenéis atrancada la puerta? Los recatos de mi Leonarda deben de andar por aquí.

 

LEONARDA.–   ¡Ay, desdichada! A la voz y a los golpes, mi marido Pancracio es éste; algo le debe de haber sucedido, pues él se vuelve. Señores, a recogerse a la carbonera: digo al desván, donde está el carbón.

Corre, Cristina, y llévalos; que yo entretendré a Pancracio de modo que tengas lugar para todo.

 

ESTUDIANTE.–   ¡Fea noche, amargo rato, mala cena y peor amor!

 

CRISTINA.–   ¡Gentil relente, por cierto! ¡Ea, vengan todos!

 

PANCRACIO.–   ¿Qué diablos es esto? ¿Cómo no me abrís, lirones?

 

ESTUDIANTE.–   Es el toque, que yo no quiero correr la suerte destos señores. Escóndanse ellos donde quisieren, y llévenme a mí al pajar, que, si allí me hallan, antes pareceré pobre que adúltero.

 

CRISTINA.–   Caminen, que se hunde la casa a golpes.

 

SACRISTÁN.–   El alma llevo en los dientes.

 

BARBERO.–   Y yo en los carcañares.

 

(Éntranse todos y asómase LEONARDA a la ventana.)

  

LEONARDA.–   ¿Quién está ahí? ¿Quién llama?

 

PANCRACIO.–   Tu marido soy, Leonarda mía; ábreme, que ha media hora que estoy rompiendo a golpes estas puertas.

 

LEONARDA.–   En la voz, bien me parece a mí que oigo a mi cepo Pancracio; pero la voz de un gallo se parece a la de otro gallo, y no me aseguro.

 

PANCRACIO.–   ¡Oh recato inaudito de mujer prudente! Que yo soy, vida mía, tu marido Pancracio: ábreme con toda seguridad.

 

LEONARDA.–   Venga acá, yo lo veré agora. ¿Qué hice yo cuando él se partió esta tarde?

 

PANCRACIO.–   Suspiraste, lloraste y al cabo te desmayaste.

 

LEONARDA.–   Verdad; pero, con todo esto, dígame: ¿qué señales tengo yo en uno de mis hombros?

 

PANCRACIO.–   En el izquierdo tienes un lunar del grandor de medio real, con tres cabellos como tres mil hebras de oro.

 

LEONARDA.–   Verdad; pero, ¿cómo se llama la doncella de casa?

 

PANCRACIO.–   ¡Ea, boba, no seas enfadosa, Cristinica se llama! ¿Qué más quieres?

 

[LEONARDA].–   ¡Cristinica, Cristinica, tu señor es; ábrele, niña!

 

CRISTINA.–   Ya voy, señora; que él sea    -fol. 251r-   muy bien venido.

¿Qué es esto, señor de mi alma? ¿Qué acelerada vuelta es ésta?

 

LEONARDA.–   ¡Ay, bien mío! Decídnoslo presto, que el temor de algún mal suceso me tiene ya sin pulsos.

 

PANCRACIO.–   No ha sido otra cosa sino que en un barranco se quebró la rueda del coche, y mi compadre y yo determinamos volvernos, y no pasar la noche en el campo; y mañana buscaremos en qué ir, pues hay tiempo. Pero ¿qué voces hay?

 

(Dentro, y como de muy lejos, diga el ESTUDIANTE:)

  

ESTUDIANTE.–   ¡Ábranme aquí, señores; que me ahogo!

 

PANCRACIO.–   ¿Es en casa o en la calle?

 

CRISTINA.–   Que me maten si no es el pobre estudiante que encerré en el pajar, para que durmiese esta noche.

 

PANCRACIO.–   ¿Estudiante encerrado en mi casa, y en mi ausencia? ¡Malo! En verdad, señora, que si no me tuviera asegurado vuestra mucha bondad, que me causara algún recelo este encerramiento; pero ve, Cristina, y ábrele, que se le debe de haber caído toda la paja a cuestas.

 

CRISTINA.–   Ya voy.

 

LEONARDA.–   Señor, que es un pobre salamanqueso, que pidió que le acogiésemos esta noche, por amor de Dios, aunque fuese en el pajar; y ya sabes mi condición, que no puedo negar nada de lo que se me pide, y encerrámosle; pero veisle aquí, y mirad cuál sale.

 

(Sale el ESTUDIANTE y CRISTINA; él lleno de paja las barbas, cabeza y vestido.)

  

ESTUDIANTE.–   Si yo no tuviera tanto miedo, y fuera menos escrupuloso, yo hubiera escusado el peligro de ahogarme en el pajar, y hubiera cenado mejor, y tenido más blanda y menos peligrosa cama.

 

PANCRACIO.–   ¿Y quién os había de dar, amigo, mejor cena y mejor cama?

 

ESTUDIANTE.–   ¿Quién? Mi habilidad, sino que el temor de la justicia me tiene atadas las manos.

 

PANCRACIO.–   ¡Peligrosa habilidad debe de ser la vuestra, pues os teméis de la justicia!

 

ESTUDIANTE.–   La ciencia que aprendí en la Cueva de Salamanca, de donde yo soy natural, si se dejara usar sin miedo de la Santa Inquisición, yo sé que cenara y recenara a costa de mis herederos; y aun quizá no estoy muy fuera de usalla, siquiera por esta vez, donde la necesidad me fuerza y me disculpa; pero no sé yo si estas señoras serán tan secretas como yo lo he sido.

 

PANCRACIO.–   No se cure dellas, amigo, sino haga lo que quisiere, que yo les haré que callen; y ya deseo en todo estremo ver alguna destas cosas que dicen que    -fol. 251v-   se aprenden en la Cueva de Salamanca.

 

ESTUDIANTE.–   ¿No se contentará vuesa merced con que le saque aquí dos demonios en figuras humanas, que traigan a cuestas una canasta llena de cosas fiambres y comederas?

 

LEONARDA.–   ¿Demonios en mi casa y en mi presencia? ¡Jesús! Librada sea yo de lo que librarme no sé.

 

CRISTINA.–    [Aparte.]  El mismo diablo tiene el estudiante en el cuerpo: ¡plega a Dios que vaya a buen viento esta parva! Temblándome está el corazón en el pecho.

 

PANCRACIO.–   Ahora bien; si ha de ser sin peligro y sin espantos, yo me holgaré de ver esos señores demonios y a la canasta de las fiambreras; y torno a advertir que las figuras no sean espantosas.

 

ESTUDIANTE.–   Digo que saldrán en figura del sacristán de la parroquia, y en la de un barbero su amigo.

 

CRISTINA.–   ¿Mas que lo dice por el sacristán Riponce y por maese Roque, el barbero de casa? ¡Desdichados dellos, que se han de ver convertidos en diablos! Y dígame, hermano, ¿y éstos han de ser diablos bautizados?

 

ESTUDIANTE.–   ¡Gentil novedad! ¿Adónde diablos hay diablos bautizados, o para qué se han de bautizar los diablos? Aunque podrá ser que éstos lo fuesen, porque no hay regla sin excepción; y apártense, y verán maravillas.

 

LEONARDA.–    [Aparte.]  ¡Ay, sin ventura! Aquí se descose; aquí salen nuestras maldades a plaza; aquí soy muerta.

 

CRISTINA.–    [Aparte.]  ¡Ánimo, señora, que buen corazón quebranta mala ventura!

ESTUDIANTE   Vosotros, mezquinos, que en la carbonerahallastes amparo a vuestra desgracia,salid, y en los hombros, con priesa y con gracia,sacad la canasta de la fïambrera;no me incitéis a que de otra maneramás dura os conjure. Salid: ¿qué esperáis?Mirad que si a dicha el salir rehusáis,tendrá mal suceso mi nueva quimera.

Hora bien, yo sé cómo me tengo de haber con estos demonicos humanos; quiero entrar allá dentro, y a solas hacer un conjuro tan fuerte, que los haga salir más que de paso;    -fol. 252r-   aunque la calidad destos demonios más está en sabellos aconsejar, que en conjurallos.

 

(Éntrase el ESTUDIANTE.)

  

PANCRACIO.–   Yo digo que si éste sale con lo que ha dicho, que será la cosa más nueva y más rara que se haya visto en el mundo.

 

LEONARDA.–   Sí saldrá, ¿quién lo duda? Pues, ¿habíanos de engañar?

 

CRISTINA.–   Ruido anda allá dentro; yo apostaré que los saca; pero vee aquí do vuelve con los demonios y el apatusco de la canasta.

 

LEONARDA.–   ¡Jesús! ¡Qué parecidos son los de la carga al sacristán Reponce y al barbero de la plazuela!

 

CRISTINA.–   Mira, señora, que donde hay demonios no se ha de decir Jesús.

 

SACRISTÁN.–   Digan lo que quisieren; que nosotros somos como los perros del herrero, que dormimos al son de las martilladas; ninguna cosa nos espanta ni turba.

 

LEONARDA.–   Lléguense a que yo coma de lo que viene de la canasta; no tomen menos.

 

ESTUDIANTE.–   Yo haré la salva y comenzaré por el vino.  (Bebe.) 

Bueno es: ¿es de Esquivias, señor sacridiablo?

 

SACRISTÁN.–   De Esquivias es, ¡juro a...!

 

ESTUDIANTE.–   Téngase, por vida suya, y no pase adelante. ¡Amiguito soy yo de diablos juradores! Demonico, demonico, aquí no venimos a hacer pecados mortales, sino a pasar una hora de pasatiempo, y cenar, y irnos con Cristo.

 

CRISTINA.–   ¿Y éstos han de cenar con nosotros?

 

PANCRACIO.–   Sí, que los diablos no comen.

 

BARBERO.–   Sí comen algunos, pero no todos; y nosotros somos de los que comen.

 

CRISTINA.–   ¡Ay, señores! Quédense acá los pobres diablos, pues han traído la cena; que sería poca cortesía dejarlos ir muertos de hambre, y parecen diablos muy honrados y muy hombres de bien.

 

LEONARDA.–   Como no nos espanten, y si mi marido gusta, quédense en buen hora.

 

PANCRACIO.–   Queden; que quiero ver lo que nunca he visto.

 

BARBERO.–   Nuestro Señor pague a vuesa[s] mercede[s] la buena obra, señores míos.

 

CRISTINA.–   ¡Ay, qué bien criado

 
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A home for stories fashioned with care!

This is where I'll be posting original stories and fan fiction whenever it suits me.

 
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