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Episode 178 November 20, 2025 On the Needles 2:01 ALL KNITTING LINKS GO TO RAVELRY UNLESS OTHERWISE NOTED.  Please visit our Instagram page @craftcookreadrepeat for non-Rav photos and info     Succulents 2025 Blanket CAL by Mallory Krall, Hue Loco DK in Butterfly Agave– done!!   Aal Ower Torie by  Shetland Guild of Spinners, Knitters, Weavers and Dyers, Jamieson's of Shetland Shetland Spindrift in Vintage kit (8 colors: moorit, eesit, saphire, daffodil, madder, natural white, moss, nutmeg)   Ruuno by Nina Holubcova, Urth Yarn Lanalpaca in Amethyst– DONE!!   Clapotis ‘24 by Kate Davies, Three Irish Girls Adorn Sock in Ainsley (original 23.8K, sharon mcmahon 3IG)       On the Easel 11:54 Gouachevember–butter-themed? Envelope painting for the 2026 Calendar (coming soon!) On the Table 16:07   https://pinchofyum.com/house-favorite-brussels-sprouts   Gochujang Potato Stew   Roasted Rutabaga and Apple with Kale and Coconut Vinaigrette from Linger by Hetty Lui McKinnon   Rye crackers Oat cakes Persimmons & pomegranate salad with goat cheese, and cumin vinaigrette  Portuguese white bean & kale stew with sausage On the Nightstand 28:37 We are now a Bookshop.org affiliate!  You can visit our shop to find books we've talked about or click on the links below.  The books are supplied by local independent bookstores and a percentage goes to us at no cost to you!   Extreme North: A Cultural History by Bernd Brunner, trans by Jefferson Chase The Black Wolf by Louise Penny (Inspector Gamache #20) 36:54 Silver and Lead by Seanan McGuire (october daye #19)  40:19 A Mouthful of Dust by Nghi Vo (Singing Hills #6) 42:24 Things Gods Break by Abigail Owen (The crucible #2) 44:01 Queen Demon by Martha Wells (Rising World #2)   46:06 The Peepshow: The Murders at Rillington Place by Kate Summerscale The Elements by John Boyne The Book of Alchemy by Suleika Jaouad   Under the Tree 54:11 Needles Sock Sizing Ruler - Sock Knitting Bracelet Ruler - Twice Sheared Sheep   Knit Extension Cords - Stitch Holder Cords - Twice Sheared Sheep   Fandom knitting book https://www.nancybatesdesigns.com/product-page/knitting-the-national-parks-book   Easel Blackwing Ruth Asawa set Caran D'ache anniversary sets Travel paint Brush roll option one, option two Kakimori dip pen table Little Sheet & Little Chill | Great Jones   Earlywood wooden spatulas thin wooden spatula set - Earlywood Wooden Scraper Spoon - Earlywood   Shop Ground Up Nut Butters Holiday   A Cookbook Gift Guide - by Jenny Rosenstrach   GIR utensil set Seka Hills Olive oil Mackenzie's Fisherman hand scrub Butter flight with butter dish (I like Plugra and Beurre Disigny Salted) And there's a shop in San Francisco that sells Bordier Butter too. One65 Patisserie & Boutique   Nightstand personalized book press   Papier Italian Summer reading journal   custom book bobble ornament 1400 options   Book Nook kits–owl, so many options!  Fun readers &/or glasses case–IZIPIZI, eyebobs, peepers, Caddis Library candle–paddywax (sold out!)   ** extra: Lingua Franca sweaters –”Vote Blue” Kris & Dave collection

Episode 86 Recalling Brigid by Orna Ross Orna Ross reads ‘Recalling Brigid' and discusses the poem with Mark McGuinness. https://media.blubrry.com/amouthfulofair/media.blubrry.com/amouthfulofair/content.blubrry.com/amouthfulofair/86_Recalling_Brigid_by_Orna_Ross.mp3 This poem is from: Poet Town: The Poetry of Hastings & Thereabouts edited by Richard Newham Sullivan Available from: Poet Town is available from: The publisher: Moth Light Press Amazon: UK | US Recalling Brigid by Orna Ross Queen of queens, they called herin the old books, the Irish Mary.Never washed her hands, nor her headin sight of a man, never lookedinto a man's face. She was goodwith the poor, multiplied food,gave ale to lepers. Among birds,call her dove; among trees, a vine.A sun among stars. Such was the sort of womanpreferred as the takeover was made:consecrated cask, throne to His glory,intercessor. Brigid said nothing to any of this,the reverence, or the upbraidings.Her realm is the lacuna,silence her sceptre,her own way of life its own witness. Out of desire, the lure of lustor the dust of great deeds,she was distorted:to consort, mother-virgin,to victim or whore. I am not as womanlya woman as she.So I say: Let us see.Let us say how she is the one. It is she who conceivesand she who does bear.She who knitted us in the womband who will cradle our tomb-fraying. Daily she offers her arms,clothes us in compassion,smiles as we wrigglefor baubles. Yes, it is she who lifts you aloftto whisper through your ears,to kiss your eyes,to touch her coolingcheek to your cheek. Interview transcript Mark: Orna, where did this poem come from? Orna: Hi Mark. Yeah, so it's one of a collection that I'm working on, around Irish women from history and myth. And these are women that I grew up with, as a young person, receiving a sort of a typical Irish education, if you like. Orna: And so some of them are saints, some of them are mythological people. Well, saints are also mythological people! Some of them are historical figures who've been mythologized. And I just wanted to go back in and do my own exploration of each of these women because everybody else had. So I've been gathering these poems over a long time, but it actually started with this one. It started with Brigid. And Brigid is a figure from ancient Irish mythology. And she was Christianized into a Roman Catholic saint. She is the patron saint of Ireland. One of. You've probably heard of the other one. Patrick. You probably haven't heard of this one: Brigid. And, so many things have been projected on her. And it's interesting to read what, what survives of what is written about her because what's written earlier on in time is quite different to what's written later on. And she continues to be an inspiration. Her feast day is the first day of spring in Ireland, which in Ireland is the first day of February. It's much earlier than it is in England. And she's just an interesting, personification of the female virtues as they've been perceived over time. Mark: So you said she was written about differently in earlier times to more recent times, which I think is pertinent to how you're exploring that in the poem. So maybe you could just give us a brief summary of that. Orna: Yes. So I, the poem refers to ‘the takeover'. And by that, I kind of mean the Christian, but hand in hand with Christian goes the patriarchal, takeover of old images of women in general. And Brigid is part of that. So earlier, renditions about her tend to focus on her as a healer, as a wise woman, as a very compassionate person, ‘ale to lepers' is one of the, images in the poem. Whereas later versions tend to emphasize her holiness and her saintliness and, her goodness and I suppose what we would typically think is a good, religious, icon. So it's interesting just to read how that changes and differs as we go. And she also then had her detractors, which is where we get to the ideas, about women generally that are in the poem – the consort, mother, victim, whore, those kinds of ideas. You see them brushing against Brigid over time, but she comes through intact actually, as a woman in her own right. And these don't tend to stick to her as they have stuck to others. Mark: And sometimes when poets use mythological figures like this, there's a kind of a critique of, ‘Well, that's a little bit old fashioned, it's poetry with a capital P'. But reading this and listening to you, it kind of really underlines to me that mythology and religion are really quite present in Ireland. Orna: Oh, gosh, yes! The past is very present in Ireland still, in lots of ways. And. It's interesting. I suppose it's something to do with being a small island on the very edge of, in inverted commas, civilization. Although the Irish like to think they civilized Europe during the dark ages by sending our saints and our scholarship, our images of people like Brigid, the truth is that old ways lingered on a long time, and particularly the part of Ireland where I grew up. So, I grew up in County Wexford down in the small bottom right-hand corner, the very southeast tip of Ireland. Around it, there is a river and a small hill that kind of cuts that area off. And around County Wexford in general, there are larger hills and a big river that cuts Wexford off. So they tended to travel by sea more than road, people from that part of the world. And it was the first part of Ireland to be conquered the Norman conquest and, Old English lingered there right up until, well, there are still words that are used in Wexford that aren't used elsewhere. Carols and songs as well. So other parts of Ireland and, obviously England, had moved on, it but kind of got stuck there. So I'm just kind of pointing up the fact that yes, things stayed, passed on in an oral kind of culture and an oral tradition. And hedge schools and such like, long after such things had faded away in other parts of Europe. Mark: And you say Old English rather than Irish was lingering? Orna: That's right. And, because they had, well, the Normans came to England first Hastings, actually where I live now. One of the reasons I'm here, I think is that I felt a lot of similarities between here and Wexford and I think the Norman invasion in both places, it was part of that. So yeah, a hundred years after the Normans landed in Hastings, they were brought over to Wexford by an Irish chieftain to help him win one of his battles with another Irish chieftain. So English came with the Normans to Ireland. Mark: Right. And this is another amazing thing about Ireland, is the kind of the different layers, like archaeological layers of language. You've got Irish, you've got Old English, you've got Norman French, you've got Latin from the church, you've got Norse from the Vikings and so on. It's incredibly rich. Orna: Yes. More diverse, I think. And again, because of its cut off nature, these things lasted longer, I think, because that's also true of England, but the overlay is stronger and so they don't make their way through. Mark: Right, right. And the ghosts can peep through. So, okay, that's the historical cultural context. What does Brigid mean to you and why did you choose her as the first figure in this sequence? Orna: She chose me, I think. I very much feel this poem, you know, some poems are made and some arrive and this one arrived. I wanted to do something to celebrate her. That was all I knew because it was the first day of spring, which I always loved, that first day of February. You know, when winter is really beginning to bite and you feel, I mean, there is no sign of spring except some crocuses maybe peeking up and, uh, a few spring flowers making a little promise. But usually the weather is awful, but it's the first day of spring and it's, been a really important day for me from that point of view. And then the fact that it does, you know, the fact that Patrick is such a great big deal everywhere and Brigid isn't known at all. So that's kind of where I started and I just knew I'd like to write a poem. And then it was one of those ones that I, if I had set out to write a poem about Brigid, I don't think this is what I would have written. It just arrived. And I found that I was thinking about lots of things and as the first poem of this sequence, I wanted to say some of the things about womanhood in the poem, and I, well, I realised I did, because that's what emerged. So for me, it's very much about that kind of quiet aspect of, so, you know, we've got feminism, which talks very much about women's rights to do whatever it is they want to do in the outer world. But for me, she, in this poem, represents the inner, the quiet virtues, if you like, always there for us. We're not always there for them, but they're always there and active in our lives all the time, and I wanted to celebrate that in the poem. So that's what, you know, I got, the rough draft just came pouring out, and that's what I found myself wanting to bring out. Mark: And the title, ‘Recalling Brigid', you know, I was thinking about that word ‘recalling', because it could mean ‘remembering', but it could also mean ‘calling' or ‘summoning'. Orna: Yes, deliberately chosen for both of those meanings, yes, very well spotted there, poetry reader. Mark: Well, you know, this is a very ancient function of poetry, isn't it? And it's where it kind of shades into charm or spells, to summon, or invoke a spirit or some kind of otherworldly creature or being. Orna: Absolutely. I think you've got the heart of what the poem is trying to do there. It is about calling forth, something, as I say, that's there, that we're all, you know, is there for all of us in our lives, but that we're not always aware of it. And our culture actively stifles it, and makes it seem like it's less important than it is. And so, yes, very much exactly all the words, the beautiful words you've just used there. I was hoping this poem would tap into that. Mark: Very much. And, you know, the beginning, ‘Queen of Queens, they called her'. So presumably this is in the old pre-Christian days, ‘they called her'. So there's that word ‘calling' again, and you give us the kind of the gloss, ‘in the old books, the Irish Mary'. And then you introduce the takeover: ‘such was the sort of woman / preferred as the takeover was made:' And then you get the other version. And then you've got: ‘Brigid said nothing to any of this,' which I think is really wonderful that she keeps – so you've gone from ‘they' in the past, ‘what they called her'. And then Brigid keeping her own counsel about this. She said nothing to any of this, ‘the reverence, or the upbraidings'. And then we get you where you say, ‘I am not as womanly / a woman as she. / So I say: let us see. / Let us say how she is the one. // It is she who conceives, and she who does bear.' Lovely, beautiful repetitions and shifts in there. So you really, you step forward into the poem at that point. Orna: I really wanted to, to place myself in relation to, to her and to all the women in this collection. Which isn't out yet, by the way, it's not finished. So I've got another three to go. No, I really wanted to place myself in relation to the women in the poems. That was an important part of the project for me. And I do that, you know, lots of different ways. But this poem, the first one is very much about, I suppose, calling out, you know, the ‘recalling' that you were talking about there a few moments ago, calling out the qualities. That we tend to overlook and that are attributed to Brigid as a womanly woman. And so, yeah, that's, that's what I was saying. I'm more of a feminist woman who is regarded by some as less womanly. so there is a, that's an interesting debate for me. That's a very interesting, particularly now at this time, I think, it's very interesting to talk about, you know, what is a feminist and what is feminism. And I personally believe in feminisms, lots of different, you know, it's multiple sort of thing. But these poems are born of a, you know, a feminist poet's sensibility without a doubt. So in this first one, I just wanted to call out, you know, the womanly virtues, if you like. Mark: Yeah. So I get a sense of you kind of starting as a tuning fork for different ideas and voices, calling her different things. And then you shift into, ‘Let us see. / Let us say…' I love the description earlier on where you said it's a celebration because by the end of the poem, it really is. It's all her attributes, isn't it? ‘It is she who conceives / and she who does bear.' And so on. Again, how easy was it for you to let go and, and, and step into that? Because it's kind of a thing that it's a little bit, it's not what we associate with modern poetry, is it? Orna: No, not at all. Not at all. But I had to ages ago, give up on modern poetry. If I wanted to write poetry, I had to drop so much, so much that I learned, you know, English Lit. was my original degree. And, you know, I, I was in love with poetry from a very young age. So, I learned everything I could about everything. And then I had to drop it all because I didn't write, I didn't write any poems between the end of my teens and my early forties when I lost a very dear friend. And then when I went on, shortly afterwards to, develop breast cancer. So those two things together unlocked the poetry gates and poems came again. And the kind of poems that came, very often were not, poems that they're not fashionable in that sense. You know, they're not what poetry tends to be. And from that point, in our time, if you like, some are, some, some do come that way, but an awful lot don't. And, for that reason, I'm just so entirely delighted to be able to self-publish because they speak to readers and say they communicate. And to me, that's what matters. And I don't have to worry about being accepted by a poetry establishment at all. I don't spend any time whatsoever thinking about that. I work at the craft, but I, it's for myself and for the poem and for the reader, but not to please anybody that, you know, would be a gatekeeper of any kind. Mark: Well, some listeners will know this – you are very much known as a champion of opportunity and diversity in publishing for writers and self-publishing, independent publishing, however you call it. But I think what I'd like to focus on here is the fact that, you know, by writing a poem like this, you highlight the conventions that we have in modern poetry. And it's easy to see the conventions of the past, but maybe not so much the ones in the present. And I love the fact that you've just sidestepped that or ignored that and written the poem that came to you. Orna: Yes. Yes, very much did and do. And like I said, I don't spend, I did at one time spend time thinking about this, but I spend absolutely no time now thinking about this at all. Mark: That's so refreshing to hear! [Laughter] Orna: No, it's, it's great. It's certainly a liberation. I think very much about the poem and what the poem needs and wants from me. And I make mistakes. I, you know, I don't do well on some poems. I go back, rewrite, sometimes years later, sometimes after they're published. so yeah. It's not that I don't think about form or structure or, you know, all of the things that poets think about but I only think about the master, you know, is the poem itself or the reader possibly or the communication between the bridge between me and the reader, something like that. But yeah, it's liberating for sure. Mark: And how did that play out in this poem? I mean, how close is this to the original draft that came to you? Orna: It's one of the poems that's closest to the original. It kind of arrived and I didn't want to play with it too much at all. So yeah, it, I just left it be. I let it be what I wanted to be because for me there are echoes in this poem as well of Old Irish poetry and ways of writing. you know, that if you, I don't know if you've ever had the pleasure of reading Old Irish poetry in translation? Mark: Yes. Orna: So, you know, that sense of I'm reading something from a completely different mind. It's, it isn't just that the, you know, the structures are different or whatever. It's like the whole mind and sensibility is something else. And that was one of the things I wanted to slightly have to retain in this poem. You know, I felt that it, it carries some of that forward and I wanted to, to leave it there as an echo. Mark: Yeah. Quite a lot of those Old Irish poems have a kind of a litany, a list of attributes of the poet or their beloved or the divine being that they're evoking. And that comes across very strongly here. Orna: Yeah, definitely. That's sort of a list of, which to the modern ear can sound obvious and, you know, just not poetry really. So yeah, I think that's one of the qualities that it carries. Mark: And I love the kind of the incantatory repetitive thing. Like I was saying about the, ‘So I say: let us see. / Let us say', and then ‘It is she… It is she… she who', you know, it just carries you along. It's got a hypnotic quality to it. Orna: Yes. And the she part, you know, the emphasizing the feminine, I suppose, touch of the divine feminine, but very much the physical feminine, and activities as well. So, you know, women held the role of birth and death very much in Irish culture again, up to really quite recently. I remember that, in my own youth and okay, I am getting on a bit, but, it's still, you know, it was quite late in time where, women did the laying out for burial. They did the keening of the, the wake, all of that. I remember very well. so at the beginning and end of life at the thresholds, if you like, that was a woman's job. And, that was lost, I think in the takeover. But I still think all the emotional labour around those thresholds are still very much held by women, you know, silently and quietly. And yeah, Brigid doesn't shout about it, but in this poem, I want to call it. Mark: Yeah. Recall it. Okay. And then let's go back to Hastings, which we touched on earlier, because this, okay. It's, it's going to be in your collection. It's been published in a wonderful anthology poetry from Hastings called Poet Town. Tell us a bit about that book and how you came to be involved. Orna: Yeah. So I heard about it and, Richard [Newham Sullivan] wonderful, poet and, publisher and general literary person. He now lives in New York, but he grew up in Hastings and lived here for many years. And it was a kind of a homesickness project he told me later, for him just. But he carried the idea in his mind for a very long time. He wanted to, he knew that there was an incredible, poetic history in Hastings, which people were not aware of. So Hastings is very well known. Hastings and St. Leonard's, where I live, both are very well known as arty kind of towns. Visual arts are very, very visible here, and all sorts of marvellous things going on, and music as well, there's brilliant Fat Tuesday music festival every year, but there's also, there's classical music, music in the pubs, music coming out your ears, literally. But very little about the literary life that goes on here, and lots of writers living here. And so Richard wanted to just bring forward the poetry side of that. And so he decided it's a passion project for him. He decided to, he worked with the publisher, a small publisher here, in Hastings for it. It's Moth Light Press. And he set out to gather as many living poets into one collection as he could. And this is where I was interested because as, I'm a historical novelist as well, so history is big for me, and I was really interested in the history, you know, the history and the poets who had lived here. There were quite a few. It's not every day you find yourself in an anthology with Lord Byron and Keats, and, two Rossetti's! So that was a joy, discovering all the poets who, had a connection to Hastings back to, I think he went back to the early 1800s with it. So, yeah, it's been a huge success, and, people are loving the book, and it has really brought poetry, brought pride, I think, to the poetry community in the town, which is lovely. Mark: Yeah, I'm really enjoying it, and I love the fact that it's got the old and the new. Because, of course, that's what I do here on A Mouthful of Air. I always think the ghosts of poetry past are always present in the work of the living. I hadn't realized what a deep and rich poetic history Hastings had. So, yeah, Poet Town, a great anthology. Do check that out while you're waiting for Orna's sequence to come to light. And Orna, thank you so much for sharing such a remarkable poem and distinctive take on the poet's craft. And I think this would be a good point to listen to the poem again, and appreciate your praise and celebration once more. Orna: Thanks so much, Mark, for having me. I really enjoyed it. Thank you. Recalling Brigid by Orna Ross Queen of queens, they called herin the old books, the Irish Mary.Never washed her hands, nor her headin sight of a man, never lookedinto a man's face. She was goodwith the poor, multiplied food,gave ale to lepers. Among birds,call her dove; among trees, a vine.A sun among stars. Such was the sort of womanpreferred as the takeover was made:consecrated cask, throne to His glory,intercessor. Brigid said nothing to any of this,the reverence, or the upbraidings.Her realm is the lacuna,silence her sceptre,her own way of life its own witness. Out of desire, the lure of lustor the dust of great deeds,she was distorted:to consort, mother-virgin,to victim or whore. I am not as womanlya woman as she.So I say: Let us see.Let us say how she is the one. It is she who conceivesand she who does bear.She who knitted us in the womband who will cradle our tomb-fraying. Daily she offers her arms,clothes us in compassion,smiles as we wrigglefor baubles. Yes, it is she who lifts you aloftto whisper through your ears,to kiss your eyes,to touch her coolingcheek to your cheek. Poet Town: The Poetry of Hastings & Thereabouts ‘Recalling Brigid' is from Poet Town: The Poetry of Hasting & Thereabouts, published by Moth Light Press. Available from: Poet Town is available from: The publisher: Moth Light Press Amazon: UK | US Orna Ross Orna Ross is an award-winning poet and novelist. Her poetry, rooted in Irish heritage and mindfulness practice, explores love, loss, creativity, and spiritual renewal through a female lens. As founder-director of the Alliance of Independent Authors (ALLi), she champions creative freedom for poets and writers. Her forthcoming collection, And Then Came the Beginning—Poems of Iconic Irish Women, Ancient and Modern—is available for pre-order at OrnaRoss.com/TheBeginning. A Mouthful of Air – the podcast This is a transcript of an episode of A Mouthful of Air – a poetry podcast hosted by Mark McGuinness. New episodes are released every other Tuesday. You can hear every episode of the podcast via Apple, Spotify, Google Podcasts or your favourite app. You can have a full transcript of every new episode sent to you via email. The music and soundscapes for the show are created by Javier Weyler. Sound production is by Breaking Waves and visual identity by Irene Hoffman. A Mouthful of Air is produced by The 21st Century Creative, with support from Arts Council England via a National Lottery Project Grant. Listen to the show You can listen and subscribe to A Mouthful of Air on all the main podcast platforms Related Episodes Recalling Brigid by Orna Ross Orna Ross reads and discusses ‘Recalling Brigid’ from Poet Town. From The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge Episode 85 From The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge Mark McGuinness reads and discusses a passage from ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner' by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.Poet Samuel Taylor ColeridgeReading and commentary by Mark McGuinnessFrom... Alchemy by Gregory Leadbetter Episode 84 Alchemy by Gregory Leadbetter Gregory Leadbetter reads ‘Alchemy' and discusses the poem with Mark McGuinness.This poem is from: The Infernal Garden by Gregory LeadbetterAvailable from: The Infernal Garden is available from: The publisher: Nine Arches...

This week we celebrated Novellavember by discussing some of our favorite recent novellas. Cinder House [Libro.fm] / [Overdrive/Libby] The Summer War [Libro.fm] / [Overdrive/Libby] The Memory of the Ogisi [Overdrive/Libby] What Stalks the Deep [Libro.fm] / [Overdrive/Libby] Making History [Audible] / [Overdrive/Libby] The Adventure of the Demonic Ox: A Penric and Desdemona Novella [Libro.fm] / [Overdrive/Libby] Previously Discussed: The River Has Roots [Libro.fm] / [OverDrive/Libby] / [Episode 302]   Murder by Memory [Libro.fm] / [OverDrive/Libby] / [Episode 305]   The Unworthy [Libro.fm] / [Episode 307] Automatic Noodle [Libro.fm] / [Overdrive/Libby] / [Episode 319] A Mouthful of Dust [Libro.fm] / [Overdrive/Libby] / [Episode 331] Additional Mentions: The Hungry Gods [Libro.fm] / [Overdrive/Libby] Lives of Bitter Rain [Libro.fm] The Mountain Crown [Libro.fm] / [Overdrive/Libby] Red Star Hustle / Apprehension [Libro.fm] / [Overdrive/Libby] The First Thousand Trees [Libro.fm] / [Overdrive/Libby]

A Mouthful of Legs***Written by: EM Otero and Narrated by: Nate DuFort***Content warning: spiders***It Came from the Inner Woods***Written by: Thomas Folske and Narrated by: Jimmy Ferrer***Manpig***Written by: Bikram Mann***Content warnings: bullying, child death***Support the show at patreon.com/creepypod***Sound design by: Pacific Obadiah***Title music by: Alex Aldea Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Christian College Sex Comedy: Part 27 Appreciation? In 30 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the podcast at Explicit Novels.             Children must face the scrutiny of their parents     The Dining Hall was almost a relief. That relief died the moment I saw the banner over the front of the serving area in the Hall. 'Zane Appreciation Day'. Since every word was spelled correctly, it wasn't some stunt of Rio's, but beyond that, the list of suspects was too large to consider. This could be a genuine outpouring of acceptance and sympathy for what I had endured here. If you believe that, I have to ask you: 'Do you want your leprechaun pissing Guinness or Irish Malt?'   Most likely, this was going to be some sort of humiliation, and I think I knew the flavor, and I definitely knew how to find out. See, in every seat of the Dining Hall was a big, bowling ball sized white box with a name and secured with a gold and green ribbon, so no cheating; no peeking. That last bit didn't deter me, though. I snuck up on the box marked for Holiday Carpenter.   "Zane, does that have your name on it?" Virginia Goodswell asked me, my English teacher and Spiritual Advisor. Hell, if it had been Mrs. Marlowe, I would have opened it anyway, but Virginia was my buddy so her next question didn't mean to stab a stake of regret through my heart. "Where is Vivian?"   "I left my room before she was done." I looked to the ground while I kicked some imaginary dust off the slate floor.   "Why don't you see if she's been calling you?" she suggested. "She's probably worried." Worried, or homicidal because, ya know, I had sort of run off without my phone, wallet, watch, book bag, or anything else a 21st century student might need.   "I ran away like a big, fat chicken," I confessed. "Anything not glued to my body I left behind."   "I'll give her a call." She pulled out her phone and hit speed dial #2. I crap since her sick mother is probably #1. I am such a big problem for her, she has my guardian on speed dial! "That is Holiday Carpenter's box, Zane, not yours. Besides, there are strict instructions to not open the boxes until instructed."   The panicky response I overheard from Virginia's conversation with Vivian hardly helped my mood. She wanted to know if Virginia knew where I was, she did; that I was okay, I was; and finally, what upset me, because the other girls weren't talking but apparently Mercy had started slapping Barbie Lynn around until Rio and Val pulled her off. Now, that made less than no sense. Wasn't that supposed to work the other way around?   Virginia did a double check and sure enough, Mercy had slammed Barbie Lynn into an open wardrobe on my behalf, and Rio and Val had pulled her back. WTF! I am sure that Rio was right beside me on that one. Vivian triple checked that I was physically and mentally okay and she sounded so disappointed, in herself, as she did so. She was bringing my stuff; yes, I am an earthworm. Virginia promised for me that I would remain here until she arrived.   Some stupid gesture like a loud public apology, done on bended knee, was blatantly unfair to Vivian, who only meant the best for me. I made a quick apology, not trying to meet her eyes as I said the words and took my stuff. All of 'my' girls seemed equally subdued. A minute after we had garnered our victuals, Vivian put a hand on my elbow.   "Don't be so hard on yourself, Zane," Vivian smiled warmly at me. "You take a lot of stress and pressure on yourself. I understand that from time to time you need to take in a tiny bit of private space for yourself. Clearly, you can't schedule any such time because nothing around you stays a secret for very long and no one respects your privacy or even asks what you need."   "Vivian," I was puzzled, "you deserve to be righteously pissed with me. You are my Guardian and I promised to stay by you or at least tell you where I was."   "Zane, we let you down," Vivian assured me. "It is your dorm room and we are your guests, and we have been rather poor guests at that."   "How about we call a truce?" I offer.   "I can live with that," Vivian smiled.   "Cut the Kumbaya-time, kids," Rio snorted derisively. "Zane, what the fuck happened with Mercy?" Rio playfully punched Mercy's arm to emphasize her uncertainty.   "Rio, Bro, drop it," I asked sincerely. "Act like it didn't happen." Rio studied me a second, then got this wickedly evil grin.   "What the hell are you talking about, Glenda?" she hefted the box up then shook it. "It seems my damn box is glued shut. Are we celebrating one thousand cunts licked by you, or what?"   Because Rio rarely expounded at a level below full volume, next thing we hear is Mrs. Marlow snapping, "Ms. Talon, watch your language; there are good Christian women being forced to sit within the sound of your voice!"   "Gotcha, Ms. Mouthful," Rio snapped off with a snap and a finger raised up like a pistol in the air.   "What did you say?" Marlowe closed the distance.   "She was repeating what I pointed out," I turned and smiled. "I said that you really had it going together this morning; that you were more than a mouthful. That's a hip/trending term to describe someone who is expressing themselves through clothing and make-up."   "You are lying, Mr. Braxton," she snarled.   "You are probably right, as I do so to you on general principle, but good luck proving it in student court," I grinned right back. We locked wills and she blinked first.   "Ms. Phillips," Marlowe turned on Vivian, "what are you going to do about this?"   "Zane and Rio, would you please apologize for being rude and insensitive to an educator who only wishes the best for the student body?" Vivian requested.   "I so apologize," I bowed my head.   "I so apologize as well," Rio tacked on. Only after Marlowe had gone to spread love and sunshine somewhere else did Rio lean across me and whisper to Vivian.   "You rock!" Rio giggled gleefully. After all, Rio and I had not apologized to Mrs. Marlowe because neither one of us believed for a minute that she was 'an educator who only wishes the best for the student body'. To that nameless entity, we owed a debt, and to Mrs. Marlow we owed a generous 'fuck you,' and Vivian had made it all possible.   "Why, thank you, Rio," Vivian nodded her acceptance of Rio's praise. "Jesus is the Peacemaker and we all should attempt to emulate his teachings."   "So, I still don't get to lick you senseless?" Rio snickered.   "No, no, you don't," Vivian smiled, even though she didn't look at either of us. Vivian's going to rock as a mom.   The next half hour passed quietly. Everyone was curious about the boxes but no one was too worried until a rumor suddenly appeared. When it was suggested that they might have to put on bikinis, the fear set in. I blamed, I don't know but I wish I had thought of it. I was still kicking myself for the missed opportunity when my alien with the right face black and left face white shows up with the right face white and left face black, Mhain and Millicent.   "Death Match and you get to referee," Rio teased me. "I'm so jealous; 500 bucks on the one with the soul." Mhain glared hate at us while Millicent looked more than amused.   "Zane, come with us," Mhain gloated. I figured that somehow my ordeal was coming to an end so I'd play along. I rose and they steered me to the largest exit, flanking me.   Christina and Company grabbed their boxes and jumped up quickly to follow me, though they looked as confused as I was, confirming none of them were the architect of my discomfort. No sooner had we stepped into the cool, sunlit lawn than everyone's phone rang, except mine. I was loving this, right up there with having sandpaper buffing my sunburned abs.   "Open the box and follow the instructions," Christina informed me. "Is anyone going to do this?" My phone vibrated once, then my whole body tingled before I could respond to the call.   "I am," Mhain gloated. "I was promised something." She knelt and opened her box with enthusiasm; the others did likewise but at a more sedate pace.   What came out of each box was almost identical, different only in the anatomical part of the body indicated by the instructions. The objects were all grapefruit-sized fur-balls that made darling little squeaks, squeals and murmurs, amongst other sympathetic noises, all in tiny little voices. They were to be placed on my body, but I didn't know how that would work.   "Are we going to do this?" Chastity began to say.   "It isn't sticky," Hope was also saying when Mhain's flew out of her hand and hit the side of my left knee. She reached out carefully to retrieve hers while the other girls circled in. The little darlings were proving to be resilient little bastards. Several more leapt at me from the hands of their owners.   All this time the furry grapefruit were giving little 'wee!' noises when they shot at me and screeched like demons when they were removed, which was painful when they were on my flesh. I knew who was responsible and she was going to pay, but not right now. I saw my closest allies pulling back.   "TLM, Christina," I sighed in resignation. "Let's get this over with." I was being totally self-sacrificial; girls were starting to pile-up on us coming out of the Dining Hall. I didn't want a riot. Mhain had technically tagged me first but not in the designated spot, so I had Christina go first, she put one over my heart, not that I thought Cordelia was stupid, but now she was just piling it on.   Mhain went next and she was sizzling and excited, she put it on my lips, shutting me up. At least the girls were polite and organized enough to come at me patiently. A few didn't get the 'memo' and their little rug rats slipped out of their owner's grasp and got to play gleeful kamikaze as they plowed into me.   It didn't hurt but I had this secret fear that the tiny terrors would sprout fangs and tear into me. These little guys were murmuring and mumbling and it wasn't until I was truly buried that a horrific realization was made, the more that were on me, the greater their clinging power. In retrospect, this would have been more useful if we hadn't passed the 700 mark.   I looked like a puffy, overweight, Sasquatch baby. I could move but sitting down was a dream, as was running or going to the bathroom. The damn things wouldn't shut up either. It fell to Hope and Iona to hurry me (as much as possible) to Assembly; you know that place where I 'sit' in front. At least no one could ask me anything with the expectation of receiving an answer.   I no longer wondered how bad it could get; I knew it would get worse, and while I didn't know how, I knew it would be soon. At the start of Assembly my little friends joined in the singing, not using words but in the tinny little noises they made, though admittedly they were enthusiastic and determined. But it gets worse.   There was a discussion on stage after that fiasco about removing me. Chancellor Bazz wanted me gone; Vice Chancellor Scarlett was not in attendance but Virginia took up my cause. After all, it wasn't my fault, she claimed.   "Well, Black, do something," the first three rows heard Bazz demand of our Head of Security.   "I am not an engineer or a chemist," Black replied. "Do you want me to shoot them off him?"   Oh, yeah, my girl Bazz wanted that, so bad. Of course, what she really wanted was for Black to miss, but that wasn't going to happen. Finally, the teachers decided to soldier on. When Chancellor Bazz stepped up to begin services, the frightening fur-balls belted out 'Hail to the Chief.'   No one said a word, not a murmur. Chancellor Bazz stopped and the munchkin chorus stopped too. Two more starts later and she gave up and grudgingly took the 'praise' from my infestation. They were good throughout the message and sermon but took up 'Hail to the Chief' when she tried to leave the podium.   "Do something!" she screamed at Black. This time, Gabrielle sedately headed my way. I didn't want to think of the pain coming my way. My little buddies had my back. When she got within five feet the all screamed, and I mean SCREAMED, in the loudest cacophony most of us present had ever heard. I saw something I thought I would never see; Gabrielle flinched.   Not so oddly, I was fine, hearing almost nothing. The little guys on my ears soaked up the sound so I received a very watered-down version of what they were doing. Gabrielle fell back and at the five foot mark, the little guys shut up, mostly. They seemed to be making comforting noises to one another, like one Zane-sized colony of brown mold.   "Get away from him; just get away from him," good old Doctor Melrose Bazz pleaded as she moved her hands away from her ears. "Braxton, you stop this right now." I had a wee beastie on my mouth and Bazz was not on the small list of people I would devour this thing for. If she's looking for a conversation today, she's out of luck. She throws her hands up in desperation and starts to storm off. My little cock-sucking furry gonads (yes, I was getting angry) fired up 'Hail to the Chief' yet again, and kept at it until she sat down. Virginia got to thinking it's appropriate to call for the end of this travesty but she's dealing with Cordelia Dresden, Top Gun of the Time Lord Mafia. The weapon of choice; 'She's a Lady' by some guy named Tom Jones, the ladies in my life will inform me about this later.   For a half a second she tries to fight her smile but she surrenders, even letting the little guys go through the entire score before talking. The little tinny voices were humming a song I didn't know but damn it, it made me want to take Virginia out to a smoky Jazz club and dance until the sun came up. Virginia actually started tapping her foot to rhythm and I began thinking I might not be able to beat Cordelia. I'm not used to that sensation.   "Okay, now, whoever is doing this has put Zane through enough and should remember that we should, as Christians, make students feel safe and not make them subjects of humiliation," Virginia addressed the student body. "I think we can end Assembly fifteen minutes early today for a little bit of Christian charity. We can do it at Zane's first class, 204 Denning Hall."   By the way, I apparently have a play list. As Virginia headed back, the fella's changed it up with 'Baby Got Back'. I wanted to die. Virginia Goodswell has a truly fine ass, of this there is no doubt, I often compare it to Barbie Lynn's, but please. Virginia stopped, turned toward me with a dazzling smile and waggled her finger at me, then resumed her way to her seat.   How is any of this my fault? I imagine I was lucky it wasn't the Thong Song. I would have died, then come back as the undead to take Cordelia to hell with me. It was with some relief that Vivian and Hope rallied to my side. They had to both keep other students away, the other girls loved poking me in different critters to make them call out in different pitches and tenors, which was pleasant to hear if you liked overdosing on helium.   Surprise, surprise; no one came to my succor before English class. I couldn't sit down. Okay, I tried, but any part of my body that bent or that I sat on screamed bloody murder until I got off of it or stopped putting on the press. I've heard about girlfriends like this but I've always assumed I would have the courage to jump out of a 50 story building to escape.   What do you do if they come with you when you jump besides basking in the vicarious thrill that comes from crushing half of them beneath you before you go? I managed to do okay standing in the rear of the class, only once giving in to the crushing fatigue of holding my arms somewhat elevated for two hours. The two under my arms were especially cooperative and didn't get too vocal when my arms did slip to my sides.   I couldn't do a thing about the occasional girl twisting in her seat but either Raven's glare or Goodswell's cough brought their eyes forward once more. At the end of class, Virginia decided to call Ms. Black and have her take me to the Vice Chancellor's office to end this matter. Vivian and Mercy provided support while Gabrielle kept her distance and cleared a path.   Rio helped out by playing my musical miscreants as if they were a drum set while some part of the 700 members of my new posse and I yelled at her to leave us alone. She really is my best friend. My tragically slow pace was not my friend and everyone had to depart for their classes before I finished the arduous travel to the Administration Building. Gabrielle's eyes measuring you for a casket is a remarkable motivator but didn't stop Rio from blowing a kiss to her "Mi Negro Naughtiness". I know, I know; one day, Rio is just going to vanish without a trace.   "Ms. Reveal, I need an emergency meeting with the Vice Chancellor," Ms. Black requested of Doctor Scarlett's personal assistant. Ms. Reveal didn't miss Gabrielle keeping her distance from me. She did make the call and I noticed the pictures of Ms. Mittens were still in evidence.   "Who are you inside that suit?" Ms. Reveal asked me.   I guess she assumed I wasn't a real baby Sasquatch; I was really a baby Sasquatch disguised as a half-baked marshmallow. If three geeks and a man working beneath his means jump out at me with proton-packs, I am running for my life, which is to say 'I'm going to die.'   "This is Zane. He is not being rude, he can't speak," Ms. Black was kind enough to cover for me.   "Oh, I understand," Ms. Reveal nodded, but in such a way that expressed she didn't understand anything. "You two can go in now," she said several awkward seconds later.   "Zane, you move as close to Ms. Reveal's desk as you can while I get the door for you," Gabrielle instructed me. "Come in when I call for you."   I'm sure Marisol Reveal was curious as to why Gabrielle was dancing around me, trying to keep her distance. We almost made it; right as she made it to the doorway, Doctor Scarlett opened the door and attempted to see what the delay was. She was actually putting an award on a shelf she had just received, the reason she missed Assembly, if you find that suspicious, and was placing it on a shelf near the door.   Gabrielle responded as any slightly unbalanced killer would do; she spun around, pulled out her gun from the unseen Realm of the Gods of War, and pointed it at the stunned Victoria. That took her one half-step too close to me and my little fellas let the world know it. I will give them this much; they were still defending my eardrums.   By the way Marisol was holding her ears as her tears flowed down her face it must have been pure agony for her since I was right next to her. Gabrielle scoped up Victoria and sprinted into her office and they obediently shut up.   "Za-, Zane, what was that?" Marisol blathered. Since the furry meatball gone bad was still on my lips and I hadn't become that hungry, I kept my silence.   "Zane!" Gabrielle called for me. I did my best to shrug but it wasn't like I had a neck anymore so I don't know what she made of my movement. I shuffled to the door and got a few good squeaks as I moved inside. I was more than a little disturbed by the reaction I received from Doctor Scarlett when she saw me from her seat behind her desk. She looked at me and I swear, hand to my heart, she had an orgasm.   "You are covered in Tribbles," she gasped. I had no fucking clue what a Tribble is but apparently, I was in the vast minority. I staggered forward and since Gabrielle was on the right side of the room, I angled to the left. I move halfway around Doctor Scarlett's desk so that Gabrielle could go close the door, where she took up post and, from what happened next engaged a Romulan Cloaking Device, whatever the Muggle-tech that is.   Victoria was in some sort of dream-like trance. When she started stumbling around the desk toward me, I waited for the musical assault that never came. To my credit, I caught on in a second. If these creatures existed, singing wasn't their normal activity, and Cordelia wanted these little 'Squeaky Meals' to be as real as possible, for Victoria. I was nothing but bait.   Victoria reached out to caress the same one Christina had placed over my heart. The little bugger cooed and Victoria clamped her thighs together to contain another orgasm that coursed through her loins. Cool, all I have to do to feel the wonders of Victoria Scarlett is dress myself in furry grapefruit. I'm kicking myself for not seeing this obvious ploy.   She touches more and each makes a subtly different purr of pleasure. This goes on and on until she's cuddled up against me, her arms stroking over my back and rubbing her left leg up and down mine.   "Vice Chancellor, you do realize Zane Braxton is TRAPPED inside those, contraptions," Gabrielle sounds the slightest bit peeved.   The troops all make those little high-pitched notes of longing as Victoria retreats a few steps, bringing Victoria almost to the point where she launches herself back into me to comfort her little friends. I am second fiddle to a discombobulated guinea pig; sometimes a man can feel pretty small.   "Okay. How did this happen to you, Zane?" Victoria asked.   "He cannot talk; one of those Tribbles is attached to his lips," Black stated, "by an unknown force. Before you ask; I am not an engineer or chemist." Victoria made this adorable little 'o' expression, then reached for an offending Tribble.   "It hurts him to remove them," Gabrielle got out just in time.   "Does it hurt the Tribble?" Victoria inquired. Gee, thanks, Vic.   "Hold your ears," Gabrielle commanded. Well, I couldn't comply, and Victoria had only started to scream 'stop' when Gabrielle materialized a knife and speared 'Diddley-boo' off my shoulder.   I heard the little guy's death wail, then his death rattle, as Gabrielle pulled him/her away until she was out of screaming range. Diddley-boo? No, I have no idea what his/her name really was but I'm going to have ICE check his immigration status when all of this is over, wait, I can't do that; Gabrielle wacked the little snot and giving her up to the Feds is a great way to create many widows and orphans. Diddley-boo was still twitching erratically while Victoria was stuck between ecstasy and horror.   "You are a Klingon agent!" Victoria gasped as she pointed an accusatory finger at Gabrielle. I am vaguely aware that they are the stock-villains of Star Trek Universe and this odd snapshot of rightly tight, athletic buns in tighter pants, but the reference memory for the scene escapes me. By the facial reaction Gabrielle gives, Victoria just called candy sweet, or jalapenos hot; she appreciates the comparison.   All the surviving members of the Tribble tribe wept a cacophony of pain and loss. I would have had more sympathy if their moans had not been vibrating my body like a jello mold.   "Romulan," Gabrielle countered; the other stock Trekkie villains, but they have better teeth. First amongst our Honored Dead, DB hardly quivers as Ms. Black dissects it.   It bleeds/oozes and appears to be a living organism of some kind, but Gabrielle points to several electronic devices, a CPU, and wires connecting all kinds of things inside the organic body.   "It is an organic husk over a sensory/auditory device," Gabrielle tried to explain.   "Oh, my God," Victoria's mind worked feverish to defy reality, "they've been turned into Borgs."   She tore the one attached to my lips off. I didn't cry like a televangelist publicly begging God for forgiveness for a moment, or 147 moments, of weakness with a rather sad-looking prostitute, but that was coming.   You see, Victoria gripped her weeping diminutive fuzzy engine of humiliation tightly when she yanked it off, so she let go of it because the little blighter sounded hurt.   It gave off a more muted and mournful 'wee' as it smacked into the corner of my mouth. I was able to dodge a direct hit.   "Scarlett," Gabrielle seethed, "if, you, would, listen, for, a, moment; they are painful to be removed from his flesh and they will attempt to reattach themselves to him if they are brought within one foot. I have no idea why."   "Zane, are you in much pain?" Doctor Scarlett inquired while scanning my body fungi.   "Yes, but I'm sure if you kick me in the nuts, I'll feel better," I mumbled through a joke.   "I can't do that," Victoria gasped. "You have Tribbles down there." Yes, I feel special.   "That's it," Gabrielle snapped. "I'm going to get help." She spun around and breezed out the door, slamming it in her wake.   "Thanks for abandoning me, Gabby," I shouted as loud as I was able. "It's not like Vic's totally lost her mind or anything like that."   "I have not lost my mind," Victoria responded with a deceptively calm, soothing tone. She reinforced my calm by locking the door, then locking in the deadbolt, yes, I felt much safer.   My merry band of orphan coconuts helped things along the cliffs of sanity by cooing and 'talking' to Victoria as she walked around the office, and she gaily responded to them.   "Ms. Reveal, this is going to be a difficult intervention. Inform me when lunch time gets here," Victoria communicated to her assistant, then added, "I need a box of outdoor trash bags; leave them at the door."   Having a hot lady like Victoria Scarlett lock the door and asking for almost 3 hours of 'alone' time with me is a mature pipe dream of mine, and that dream really meets a bloody end when she asks for roughly 30 bags with a fifty-gallon capacity each. If she pulls out a hacksaw or a 'cow-stunner,' I'm racing for the window behind the Doc's desk. I'll be gone in 90 seconds, sort of like an inexpensive microwave dinner.   Doctor Scarlett returned to her desk, turned her spy-cam around, and started making calls. I honestly maintained a miniscule hope that she might still help me. She was talking curtly to another doctor whose name I didn't recognize. What came out of her mouth next sounded like a combination of eating raw meat all your life and gargling with sand regularly; add to that an inflection of someone wanting to kick elementary kids into the paths of oncoming busses and you had the language she was using.   Victoria's stance even changed. She thrust out her chest, put her hands on her hips, and a predatory sneer took up permanent residency on her lips. She even beat on her desk hard during this little exchange before laughing in a way that made kittens piss on themselves before you hung them.   "Vice Chancellor, Doctor Victoria Scarlett, umm, what's going on?" I said careful.   I'm not so much terrified of Victoria at this point, as I am suspicious of my ability to fight at the moment.   "Everything is fine, Zane," Victoria assured me. "In essence, I am bringing in some experts in the field. You can trust me on this; we've been expecting contact like this for years." Huh?   "So, ah, that was an Albanian Biologist?" I hoped.   "No, that was Vor' Dura, Flight Leader of the Blood Quasar Fleet of the Klingon Empire," Victoria explained sedately, in the same way any SANE individual described a Navy Commander. She turned her computer screen so I could see the person's profile pic.   "How does she breathe in that thing?" I wondered. "That's one hell of a corset."   "That isn't a corset, Zane, its body armor. My suit was created by the same armorer," she stated.   "You have something like that?" I boggled.   "Yes, the precise same suit. Vor' Dura is not as blessed by her bloodlines, she's shorter, but otherwise, we are identical; our alliance ended recently and soon she must face me in ritual combat; yield or die." 'Yield or die' isn't what is centermost in my mind.   "Don't your boobs ever pop out of that thing?" Because if you have been paying any attention; I am an idiot where sex is even a remote possibility. Victoria can't meet my gaze but turns as red as her namesake.   "On a few occasions," she confessed. I'm thinking 'a few'. "Now I have a few more calls to make."   Yes, she's lost her ever-loving mind, and I have no reasonable expectation of exit or rescue. I won't be able to get up enough speed to bust out of the window so being on the first floor is meaningless. She has the deadbolt key and when I stack up my Tribbles against her Science Fiction fanaticism, I lose. She turns the monitor around and makes her next call. This one starts with the victory salute, but the one done with two fingers to each side.   "Excellent news," Vicky declares. "We have confirmation of the temporal events from Deep Space Nine. I have compelling data that I have encountered genetic derivatives of the dominant herbivorous life forms of Iota Geminorum IV." And everything went to turkey-based insanity after that. Again, they spoke rapidly in a language I knew nothing about. They acted like giddy little schoolgirls, just schoolgirls with their emotions surgically removed.   The final call went much same way except that this time, the tone of the language was like the second but with the taint of a sleazy pimp or grifter thinking she was a mob boss. These were the kinds of girls you never let babysit your kids if you ever wanted to see them again. The way Vic looked at me and the fellas made me worry about how long I could last in her brothel and inspired an unexpected sympathy for these pests.   "Zane, do you promise to stay here while I, umm, get some, umm outfits?" Victoria requests respectfully. She realizes she's asking me a bizarre favor. Balthazar's Balls, I've been tied to a cross; how much worse can this be? She scoots up to me, kisses me chastely on the lips and waits.   "It is a given that my morning class schedule is toast, and I'm no stranger to the entertainment industry so knock yourself out," I allow, but I will have to pee at some time."   "Check; I'll stop by the infirmary and get a catheter," she nods, then she kisses me lightly on the lips once more. "Thank you for this, Zane."   She's off like a shot but is careful enough to get the deadbolt on the way out. Since I doubt Ms. Reveal can get a fire-axe through the door if the building catches fire, my buddies and I really are going to experience total protonic reversal on a life-ending scale. Only now does it occur to me that these fuzzy navels might have toxic side effects.   I'm waiting around for God-knows how long when I hear some muffled noises, more muffled than having a Tribble in my ear.   Scratch, scratch, "Girl, you get away from that door," Ms. Reveal shouted (I guess).   "Quick, Mercy, hold her back," Rio shouted in response. "This deadbolt is a bitch."   A scuffle ensued and I tried to shout loud enough to call Rio off when I heard two rapid-fire thumps.   "Thank you, Ms. Black," Marisol Reveal huffed. Mercy had put up quite a fight, I guessed. "I will formally press charges when the Vice Chancellor returns."   "You will go and sit your ass behind your desk, you incompetent buffoon," Black snapped. "I will deal with this and if you bother me again today, or mention this incident to Scarlett, I swear you will never see your cat again; and if you don't hop-to in the next six seconds, I'll make an audio recording of me strangling that shit-dumper and play it by your bedroom window every night until you go mad. Do I make myself clear?"   "Ugh," is all I make out, but I hear Marisol's chair squeak soon after. The sound of a body, or bodies, being drug off faded away as Black left the office and headed down the hall. Hell, I warned Marisol. I can't do anything for Rio right now and I don't have too long to ruminate.   "Marisol, are you okay?" I hear Victoria ask her assistant. It is a testament to their bond that even the hysterical Doctor doesn't miss her friend's distress.   "Sorry, Victoria, I'm a bit, umm, heart-sick is all," Marisol murmurs. "Don't you worry about it."   "Well, when you want to talk about it, let me know," Victoria stated. Marisol must have nodded because no words were spoken and Victoria came in with two carry-on bags and three dress bags while kicking the trash bag box ahead of her. Happy fun time was about to begin.   "Sorry for the wait, Zane," Victoria told me.   "Doctor," I made a desperate Hail Mary plea for reason, "you are a highly respected educator. We really need to take a step back and re-examine what's going on here."   "Zane, this is my first teaching job ever," she related as she checked on the progress of her 'Trekkie' Posse.   "My doctorate is in Philosophy; my Master's Degrees are in Comparative Religions and Women's Studies," she informed me. "All my graduate work was done as a researcher. I've never had a student." I blink dumbly at her; and here I thought my opinion of the Board of Directors couldn't get worse.   Victoria goes over the language dance with her friends, switching fluidly from tongue to tongue in a manner that impresses and even fascinates me; and I've been to Bangkok where if you are trying to buy and/or sell anything and don't speak at least ten different languages or dialects, you might as well hand them your wallet or purse and go home. "Who do we need?" Vic said in English (just making sure everyone knows that the Tribbles aren't suddenly translating for me).   "Kar'Thon," Vor' Dura states eagerly; "This matter is a racial imperative."   "Are you sure the young man is old enough?" The second woman inquired. "Jarrod went all obsessive last time a boy crossed our path. We almost sent the kid to college."   "That's what you get for marrying a Ferengi," Dura snidely remarked, and the rest laughed along with it; meanwhile, I'm going 'a what?'   Some infighting goes on until Victoria and 'I married a Ferengi' call for peace, then babble a little more. Then the name 'Zane Braxton' comes up and I'm not sure I'm happy or sad that only one of them replies in what was clearly elation and surprise, the sleazy one knows of me.   "Zane, I need to surgically remove some of the alien organisms," Victoria tells me.   "It is going to sting like hell," I mutter, to which Vor' Dura says something and sleazy girl laughs. I do not like where this is going at all. On the bright side, Victoria doesn't rip one off of me right away; she goes over to one of the dress bags and opens it up.   She's pulling out bondage gear, oops, my bad; she's getting ready to put on Klingon body armor. I have lost all preconceptions of what I was dealing with once Scarlett began stripping in front of me. She even gave me an appreciative smile and I was the one who was doing the appreciating! The little fuckers started going off. Remember, they don't like being moved and I was moving some around at the moment.   No, my legs and arms were perfectly still but my crotch was striking up a chorus, its Handel's Messiah. There was this 'still' moment where Victoria stopped opening her blouse and the three strangers regarding me through the webcam became mute; then the laughter began. Victoria resumed her stripping but she couldn't stop smiling and snickering slightly.   The three, the Klingon uber-cook or whatever she was and her two unknown accomplices, were laughing so hard they could barely communicate. It got better; when I was fully aroused and stopped moving around my pants, they didn't shut up and I was suddenly, desperately searching my mind to know how long that song was.   This was because Vic got down to her, Oh, fuck, this white thong, and calling it white is generous as it looks like someone stole an under-achieving spider's web and gently placed it over her crotch, and I know my hard-on was not going anywhere but into something before it went away.   Victoria was working her make-up on when two of the voices got themselves together enough to ask something. Vic looked up at the web-cam, over to me, then said a few sentences.   "So, which one of you likes your ankles placed behind your ears?" I politely asked in Thai.   "What was that, Brax' Zane?" Victoria asked.   "I'm curious if I can take your virginity with my tongue?" I continued in Thai.   "I cannot understand you," Victoria said again. "What are, ah, "   "I think we should engage the Federation citizen in the Galactic Basic," the second voice requested of the room. The third voice, the sleaze, said one more then in her native tongue, then the second voice, and Victoria jumped on her.   "I said, 'I think the native is getting restless'," sleazy girl grudgingly repeated. "Now, I think we should see if our plan 1.0 can be implemented."   "Before the scourges make themselves hoarse shrilling out the hellish noise or I lose patience, transport over there, and kill them myself," Dura growled playfully. I'm glad someone else was having fun. Victoria walked up and took a deep breath, which caused her well-disciplined, thirty-ish breasts to bounce tantalizingly close. Her look was desperately fearful yet almost childlike too.   "Kar'Thon, I desperately require your assistance before these creatures drive me mad," I tried to sound masculine yet pleading. On the computer screen, Dura quickly slammed her right fist to her right shoulder; I was later to learn that was a salute.   "This is no way for a Starfleet cadet to die," Victoria beamed at me, "even if I know I must someday slaughter you in battle." Whoa, I've never considered NASA as a career choice.   Maybe Klingon bondage gear/standard uniform could change my mind. The first person to tell me university life is boring I will punt to the Moon.   "I am T'Luminareth of the Vulcan Science Academy and Reserve member of the Starfleet Exploration Corps here," the second voice spoke up. I caught sight of a picture of her with this, troll? Or maybe a dwarf with the worst case of cauliflower ear ever. "I would like to assure you that every logical effort is being put forth on your behalf."   "Is that right, Tight Luminescence? Is it going to kill you to show a fellow sentient an ounce of compassion when you know he is about to suffer a fatal toxic shock from prolonged exposure to these vermin?" the third girl snarkily interjected into the conversation. "I'm Hical Cretak, Romulan freebooter and purveyor of ancient, exotic, and misunderstood goods."   "You are a thief, and since you aren't in some asteroid prison, you must be an above average one," I said to the Romulan. "I confess that I am a bit happier to see a member of the Vulcan Science Academy since, well, I'm suffering a splintered memory. Some things make perfect sense but large details are simply missing." I figured I could provide Victoria some good game.   She began rubbing my crotch and there was an effect alright, two in fact. The simple and expectant one was my trouser titan trying to unchain itself so it could get revenge on all of Victoria's orifices for taunting him so. My torturous tiny titmice began belting 'Let's get it on' by Marvin Gaye. I think as an infant, I had a mobile playing this song in my crib.   I started to really admire T'Luminareth's acting ability because she alone kept it together. Victoria made larger and larger circles over my crotch up to my beltline while Dura and Hical lost it hysterically.   "Pssst," I murmured to Victoria. She looked at me and I darted my eyes toward her makeup kit and clothes. I am getting more clothes on her, why?   Besides, I'd gotten a better look at her suit and it didn't have a butt-zipper that said 'Come Get Some,' but those pants rolled down like a candy wrapper and that 'body armor' has a back flap. I'd have to get Rio a set and I doubted Victoria would deny me her armorer's number. I was definitely looking into getting Mercy a matching Orion Slave Girl outfit, and here people don't think I make constructive use of my time.   I was sure Victoria/Kar'Thon was breaking speed records to get herself ready while the other ladies began talking to me about a whole universe that was brand new to me. Getting three different and very conflicting versions of the rise of the Human-dominated Federation of Planets was amusing.   Out of the blue, T'Luminareth decided she was going to create a team to rapidly move to my planet and take me back for further study. Vor' Dora countered that and Hical gleefully sought out salvage rights for the wreckage of the two expeditions.   "That might not be possible," I intervened. "Some of what you've told me has fused some memories together." They all fell silent.   "At Starfleet Academy, an Engineering Team and a select group of cadets," I continued to fantasize, "were directed to work on a, phased ionic drive." Ion drive was 'old' tech, or so Hical had let slip. "The drive failed catastrophically and we couldn't save the impulse drive, power was failing, we couldn't transport. The phased ionic drive detonated in the planet's atmosphere, creating a trans-harmonic disruption. I don't know if there were other survivors of our vessel. I saw another vessel either investigating our explosion or attempting a rescue but they burned up on their approach," I looked pained. "I don't think I could communicate with them and the only survivor I could locate was Kar'Thon."   "Only a combination of our two vessels' technology has been able to punch a hole through the disruption and I'm not sure how long this effect will last." I now sounded grim but determined. "We probably need three things: We need to know if there were any special modifications to the Klingon Scout vessel because I don't think it was a standard model to get so close to an experimental Federation vessel."   "Secondly, someone needs to pry out of Starfleet the precise specifications of that vessel, and that's definitely not me," I confessed. "Finally, we need to find a way to fuse those two designs together because if Tribbles are already being affected by an increased magnetic field, how much longer do we have before even the planet's magnetic field collapses totally and we fry (a SciFi movie plot, thank you)."   Once more, there was silence and I was afraid I'd stepped way beyond my bounds. Only when I took in the masked facial expressions of Kar'Thon did I realize I'd done well. I was hit with the realization I was a word and a whisper away from having sex with her, she was so pleased with me.   "I have friends at Starfleet Academy and they might be able to shed a light on what their cadets were up to," T'Luminareth stated serenely, but I could see a fire in her eyes. "I will research into every work published on Phased Ionic Drives, and we may be forced to work on a theory of what went wrong in case Starfleet is not forthcoming."   "Not that I admit that the Klingon Empire ever had any such vessel operating in the area, Vor' Dura got out before Hical Cretak interrupted.   "You have an officer on the damn planet, you cowardly idiot," mocked Hical.   "I am a deserter," Kar'Thon declared. "I would say I was a 'scum of the Orion Colonies' but I found that you already claimed that title," she aimed at Hical.   "You must die, you traitorous dog," Dura jumped on the offered plum. Thon/Victoria wasn't a deserter but she was ready to take one for the team, so to speak. "The Klingon Empire cannot allow your stain on our honor to exist. Now that we finally have you pinned down, we are coming to end you once and for all, and if the Federation insists on harboring a traitor (we were theoretically in Federation space) then,   "I owe you a death, Vor' Dura," Thon seethed; "your death."   "You may not enter Federation space," T'Luminareth insisted.   "Before you two go to war, again, why don't you let me go in," Hical mediated. "I'm a free trader and have been to both Federation and Klingon planets."   "You are a spy," Vor' Dura growled.   "Being a successful agent doesn't make you any less of spy for your Romulan Senate," T'Luminareth seemed almost furious.   "Unfounded rumors started by my, Hical almost finished before the Tribbles screamed. Not as loud as they had for Ms. Black, but they now didn't like Thon around either, now that Victoria was a Klingon. Cordelia scares me; this time Hical had the little 'hiccup'.   "This is going to be fun," she chuckled, barely above a whisper.   "I will get these vermin no matter how much they hurt the frail human," Kar'Thon snarled, but Victoria's eyes blazed with fanatic amusement. I was mildly curious if she could even respond to her true name but decided not to test that. She pulled out a rather wicked looking knife that I had to double-take to make sure it was plastic.   The conversation went on around us as fictitious bits of data collided with innuendo, falsehoods, threats, and lies. This was roleplaying by some actors who took it as

Send us a textIn today's episode, I interview Tobias Eckerlin, director of the short film "A Sparrow's Song," a story of a widowed air raid warden in the midst of World War II struggles to overcome grief and rediscover joy in her life.Listen to hear about the challenges of creating a consistent look and feel in an animated virtual world, the importance of using sound and music to support and enhance the visual world, and what the experience of the Student Academy Awards was like.Books mentioned in this episode include:Mouthful of Birds: Stories by Samanta SchweblinBurial Rites by Hannah KentFilms and TV shows mentioned in this episode include:"A Sparrow's Song" directed by Tobias EckerlinZodiac directed by David FincherThe Lord of the Rings directed by Peter JacksonStalker directed by Andrei TarkovskyRatatouille directed by Brad BirdSoul directed by Pete DocterAladdin directed by John Musker and Ron ClementsFollow Tobias on Instagram @tobiaseckerlin.visuals.Support the show

:Drum Roll: Because Matt played the drums, too...You're listening to the voice of a generation! For over 35 years, my next guest, Matt Davis, has been a force to be reckoned with. From the airwaves of 98 Rock, The Bay and DC101 to the intriguing world of hypnosis and the stage, he's done all the things. All of them! He's a certified Baltimore legend, and it was an absolute thrill to sit down and talk shop with an industry icon. Get ready, because here he is...the one and only Matt Davis!Sponsored by the Harford County Cultural Arts Board.

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This time we discussed A Mouthful of Dust, book 6 of The Singing Hills Cycle, written by Nghi Vo and narrated by Cindy Kay. We also discussed some of our favorite recent short fiction listens in our short fiction spotlight.   A Mouthful of Dust [Libro.fm] / [Overdrive/Libby] A Witch's Guide to Magical Innkeeping [Libro.fm] / [OverDrive/Libby] The Grimoire Grammar School Parent Teacher Association [Libro.fm] / [OverDrive/Libby] The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches [Libro.fm] / [OverDrive/Libby] Short Fiction Spotlight: "Wire Mother" written by Isabel J. Kim, narrated by Kate Baker [Clarkesworld] - Issue 229: October 2025 / Short Story "Holding Patterns" written by Jennifer Hudak, narrated by Kat Kourbeti [Escape Pod 989] / Short Story "The Porniest Porn in Porntown" written by Stephen Graham Jones, narrated by Stefen Rudnicki [Lightspeed] - October 2025 (Issue 185) / Short Story "Five Impossible Things" written by Koji A. Dae, narrated by Kate Baker [Clarkesworld] - Issue 228: September 2025 / Short Story "The Garden" written by Emma Törzs, narrated by Erika Ensign [Uncanny Magazine] - Issue Sixty-Five "The Girl Who Came Before" written by David von Allmen, narrated by Pine Gonzalez [Escape Pod 1004] / Short Story  

Today on the show I'm sitting down with two veterans of the Mid-Atlantic, original music scene, Love Nut. Love Nut is a pop punk rock group, based out of Baltimucho!, whose first album, ‘Bastards of Melody' hit hard in 1996.  The band is back, nearly 30 years after its release, for a reunion event at the Recher in Towson, Maryland. I couldn't be happier to have them on the show. Join me in welcoming David Vestpoint and Max Mueller of Love Nut onto the Mouthful of Graffiti podcast. Sponsored by the Harford County Cultural Arts Board.

The Mouthful of Graffiti *LIVE* at Reb Records returned on Oct 1 for a punk n' roll episode with Kristin Leschke, Joe Teague & Bryan Dunaway! Settle in for the interviews, performances and stories behind the songs!Sponsored by the Harford County Cultural Arts Board.

This episode of Let Us Be Idiots can be summarized as follows: it begins with three different segments featuring Matteo Pascale and John LoCicero, also known as Big Chief. The firsttwo segments are all about roasting and busting President Donald Trump's balls on some of the strangest recent debacles. The third segment orbits around the New York City Mayoral Republican Candidate, Curtis Sliwa. After presenting thecollected segments with John LoCicero, also known as Big Chief, Matteo Pascale provides the full context and additional information for an audio clip taken from a video of a homeless man who loudly and aggressively confronted Mike Kramer and Matteo Pascale. The episode then closes out with a “filthy” dialogue between Mike Recine and the host of Let Us Be Idiots, Matteo Pascale. ***Outro Rap lyrics were written and performed by @jdange23 and the beat was produced by Matteo Pascale.***All other content can be found on the website:https://www.crooklyncomedy.com/⁠Crooklyn Comedy and Let Us Be Idiots Patreon:⁠https://www.patreon.com/user?u=66644629Social media links:Main Twitter:⁠ https://twitter.com/MatteoPascale⁠Crooklyn Comedy Twitter:⁠ https://twitter.com/CrooklynComedy⁠Main Instagram: ⁠https://www.instagram.com/comedianmatteopascale/⁠Crooklyn Comedy Instagram: ⁠https://www.instagram.com/crooklyncomedy/⁠Let Us Be Idiots Podcast Instagram: ⁠https://www.instagram.com/letusbeidiots/Matteo Pascale's Website:⁠https://www.crooklyncomedy.com/

Send us a textHannah and Laura are thrilled to have the author of The Singing Hills Cycle, Nghi Vo, on today's episode to discuss the newest addition to the series, A Mouthful of Dust!! Nghi talks about the power of storytelling, inspirations for her series, and the ways that food connects people. **CW for the episode: discussions of violence, famine, death, cannibalism ***This episode contains SPOILERS for A Mouthful of Dust and The Singing Hills Cycle. *Be sure to pick up A Mouthful of Dust at your local indie bookstore or request it at your local library today!! You can find Nghi Vo online at:Website: Home - Nghi VoInstagram: Nghi Vo (@nghivowriting) • Instagram photos and videosBluesky: @nghivo.bsky.social — BlueskyMedia Mentions: A Mouthful of Dust by Nghi VoA Long and Speaking Silence by Nghi VoThe Singing Hills Cycle by Nghi VoThe Scarlet Ball by Nghi VoThe Chosen and the Beautiful by Nghi VoThe City in Glass by Nghi VoDon't Sleep with the Dead by Nghi VoSeanan McGuire's Wayward Children seriesThe Forever Desert series by Moses Ose UtomiSupport the showBe sure to follow OWWR Pod!www.owwrpod.com Twitter (updates only): @OwwrPodBlueSky: @OwwrPodTikTok: @OwwrPodInstagram: @owwrpodThreads: @OwwrPodHive: @owwrpodSend us an email at: owwrpod@gmail.comCheck out OWWR Patreon: patreon.com/owwrpodOr join OWWR Discord! We'd love to chat with you!You can follow Hannah at:Instagram: @brews.and.booksThreads: @brews.and.booksTikTok: @brews.and.booksYou can follow Laura at:Instagram: @goodbooksgreatgoatsBlueSky: @myyypod

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#devil #magic #azoresIn the first story, a man befriends the devil in order to get the woman of his dreams. In the second story, a pious man is rewarded for his prayers.In the third story, a woman gets bad advice from tradition.And in the final story, death gives a man a warning, but he fails to see it.Source: The Islands of Magic: Legends, Folk and Fairy Tales from the Azores by EellsNarrator: Dustin SteichmannSounds: Birds by Dustin SteichmannMusic:

Is Australia the top swearing nation? Jess hits us with a conspiracy theory and Ducko recounts his first Fathers Day with Flo.Subscribe on LiSTNR: https://play.listnr.com/podcast/nick-jess-and-duckoSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Dustin Wade, Deyavah & Jon Maurer dropped by Reb Records in Bel Air, Maryland to give us a hell a Mouthful of Graffiti Podcast *LIVE* event on August 20th, 2025.Tune in for the interviews, performances and stories behind the songs! Sponsored by the Harford County Cultural Arts Board.

The guys played the Kirby and the Forgotten Land DLC and Tony Hawk, tried the demos for  Lumines Arise and Lost Soul Aside, Kevin tried KFC's pickle menu and tons more topics on this week's Big Deal! Fine Time on Bluesky: @fineti.me Andre: @pizzadinosaur.fineti.me Steve: @monotonegent.fineti.me Kevin: @kevinflevin89.fineti.me Silent Discographer: @silentdiscographer.com [00:00] Intro - The Silent Discographer [06:55] Andre and Steve played the Star-Crossed Worlds DLC for Kirby and the Forgotten Land [26:37] Kevin played Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 3+4 [44:10] Shower Hours [46:11] Demo Roundup: Lumines Arise and Lost Soul Aside [58:19] PS6 Handheld?! What?? [01:11:19] Andre's Zelda Prediction [01:18:45] KFC Canada's Pickle Menu [01:28:13] Kevin Defends The Messenger [01:35:21] See Ya!

Isabel Bray, who plays Deloris Van Cartier in Phoenix Festival Theatre's production of Sister Act, and her sister, Mia Bray, who is the musical director for the show, stopped by to talk about the upcoming performances at Harford Community College. The show runs from September 19-21.Get your tickets at HarfordEvents.com!Sponsored by the Harford County Cultural Arts Board.

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David Ninos is a singer-songwriter, producer and performer from the Mid-Atlantic that hosts the Songwriter Series at Falling Branch. When he's not at The Dragon's Den, recording the tracks of tomorrow, he's enriching the community with the warm sounds of his Skyline acoustic duo, Last Ditch Effort, often covering the Grateful Dead or just himself. He's a dedicated musician with a hunger for music and we're happy to have him here today.  Join me in welcoming David Ninos to the Mouthful of Graffiti podcast! Sponsored by the Harford County Cultural Arts Board.

Aly talks to sunpearl about their release, banaag.Photo taken by Daniela Shella.  Ear Coffee's 8th birthday show is being held on 9/12 at the Cedar Cultural Center. It features 26 BATS!, The Briefly Gorgeous, hey, ily, and Mouthful. Tickets are on sale now. https://www.thecedar.org/events/ear-coffee-viii-feat-26-bats-the-briefly-gorgeous-hey-ily-and-mouthful Ear Coffee is Aly and Joe:https://www.instagram.com/earcoffee/https://twitter.com/earcoffeeehttps://earcoffee.bandcamp.com/https://www.patreon.com/earcoffee

In this episode Adam speaks with translator Frank Wynne and Argentinian writer Samanta Schweblin about the first-ever English edition of Mafalda, the beloved Argentine comic strip by Quino (Archipelago Books). Together, they explore how this precocious, principled six-year-old girl—who challenged everything from soup to capitalism—shaped generations of readers in Argentina and beyond. Frank discusses the joys and puzzles of translating Mafalda's quick wit and political edge, while Samanta recalls how the strip introduced her to feminism, philosophy, and satire as a child. The conversation touches on cartooning as subversion, and why Mafalda's questions still matter today. Whether you're meeting Mafalda for the first time or grew up with her, this episode is a moving celebration of one of the 20th century's most enduring comic heroines.Buy Mafalda: https://www.shakespeareandcompany.com/books/mafalda-3*Samanta Schweblin won the 2022 National Book Award for Translated Literature for her story collection, Seven Empty Houses. Her debut novel, Fever Dream, was shortlisted for the International Booker Prize, and her novel Little Eyes and story collection Mouthful of Birds have been longlisted for the same prize. Her books have been translated into more than forty languages, and her stories have appeared in English in The New Yorker, The Paris Review, Granta, Harper's Magazine and elsewhere. Originally from Buenos Aires, Schweblin lives in Berlin. Good and Evil and Other Stories is her third collection.Frank Wynne is a writer and award-winning literary translator. Born in Ireland he has lived and worked in Dublin, Paris, Amsterdam, London, Buenos Aires and currently lives in San José, Costa Rica. He has translated more than a dozen major novels, among them the works of Michel Houellebecq, Frédéric Beigbeder, Pierre Mérot and the Ivorian novelist Ahmadou Kourouma. A journalist and broadcaster, he has written for the Sunday Times, the Independent, the Irish Times, Melody Maker, and Time Out.Adam Biles is Literary Director at Shakespeare and Company.Listen to Alex Freiman's latest EP, In The Beginning: https://open.spotify.com/album/5iZYPMCUnG7xiCtsFCBlVa?si=h5x3FK1URq6SwH9Kb_SO3w Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Gen and Jette head to Atlanta with Nathan where he makes his first big move in his new career. Jamie gets braces. Brooke and Sylvia go at each other. Chase decides what to do about his "love triangle" *eye roll* with Mia and Alex.

Up and coming ukulele singer-songwriter Lauren O'Brien stopped by the Mouthful of Graffiti podcast to talk music, Beer, Vinyl & Vittles, ghosts, perfectionism and a lot more on an unforgettable episode. Grab a cup of hot tea, settle in and vibe with this very talented artist from Harford County, MD.Sponsored by the Harford County Cultural Arts Board.

Local singer-songwriter, Dan Houtz, stopped by the Mouthful of Graffiti podcast to talk about Sandwich Stock 2025, his new album 'Idle Hands,' his new duo group, 'The Men,' with Stan Graham, and a lot more!Dan has been instrumental in the success of Sandwich Stock, which started over 9 years ago at Vagabond Sandwich Company! This year's line-up boasts names like Ballyhoo!, Skitzo Calypso, Old Man Jones and Dan himself. Don't miss it on September 6th.Sponsored by the Harford County Cultural Arts Board.

Today on the show, I'm sitting down with a musician, theater professional, and radio personality, Mr. Michael Spedden. He's a man who has done it all and has supported many aspiring artists along the way. He's a humble, talented mainstay in the Mid-Atlantic music scene.  From Uncle Moldy's House of Socks to the Fowl Players Murder Mystery Cruise, he's kept us entertained, and he's here today to tell us how it all came to be. Join me in welcoming Michael Spedden to the Mouthful of Graffiti podcast. Sponsored by the Harford County Cultural Arts Board.

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On this episode of The Mouthful of Graffiti Podcast *LIVE* at REB Records, we're bringing you an incredible session with John Dickie IV, Kyndal Gehlbach (from Whiskey Feathers), and Storm Neidinger!We sat down with each of these phenomenal artists for in-depth interviews, heard captivating live performances, and delved into the stories behind their original music. You'll hear how diverse their journeys are, from punk rock beginnings to deep roots in blues, country, and folk. These three are exceptionally talented, and it was an absolute pleasure to have them share their art and experiences with us. Get ready to be inspired!Sponsored by the Harford County Cultural Arts Board.

Headlines The FOF HOTLINE IS OPEN 24/7, CALL NOW, 864-241-4318

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Welcome to That's A Mouthful, the unfiltered, no-BS podcast where Cody & Matt tackle today's most unexpected, hilarious, and heartfelt topics — one mouthful at a time.This episode kicks off something brand new: our official book club!

Are you heading to your very first Pride event—or still deciding if you should go? We've got you covered. In this heartfelt and hilarious episode of That's a Mouthful, we tackle all your biggest Pride questions: What should you wear? What if you don't feel “queer enough”? Can you hook up at Pride? We also share personal stories, safety tips, sunscreen reminders, and how to keep the Pride magic going all year long.Whether you're a shy introvert, a sparkle-loving extrovert, or somewhere in between, this episode is your crash course in Pride Month confidence, community, and self-expression.

This week, Joe talks to the band Mouthful about its debut EP, I Am Trying to Be a Pool. Ear Coffee is Aly and Joe:https://www.instagram.com/earcoffee/https://twitter.com/earcoffeeehttps://earcoffee.bandcamp.com/https://www.patreon.com/earcoffee

Today on the Mouthful of Graffiti Podcast, we're pulling back the curtain on the world of community theatre with two very special guests. Joining me are veteran performers Eric Bray Jr. and Jess Simonson, artists who've explored the depths of characters from classic musicals like Fiddler on the Roof and Grease, to contemporary hits like SpongeBob The Musical. Their journey through these roles is a testament to finding personal connection in every performance, always leaving a lasting impression. Today, Eric and Jess are here to discuss their highly anticipated roles in the Phoenix Festival Theater's upcoming production of Disney's Newsies. We'll explore the profound themes of individual voice and collective power that resonate so deeply within this beloved story. Please join me in welcoming Eric Bray Jr., starring as Jack Kelly, and Jess Simonson, portraying Katherine Plumber, to the show.Sponsored by the Harford County Cultural Arts Board.

Tracey "Spacey T" Singleton of the iconic band Fishbone is here to join us on the Mouthful of Graffiti Podcast! Formed in Los Angeles in 1979, Fishbone carved out a truly distinctive sound by masterfully fusing genres like ska, punk, funk, metal, reggae, and soul. Their innovative approach created a musical identity unlike any other. We're thrilled to have Spacey T with us today to delve into their latest album, offering insights into his time with the band and the band's ongoing musical journey. Get ready for a deep dive into the unique world of Fishbone with one of its legendary members. Sponsored by the Harford County Cultural Arts Board.

In this episode, Josh Hensley, Evan Ryan, Michael Shearon, and Paxton Redd wrap up the series on sin and suffering with a lively round of “Would You Rather: Mildly Suffering Edition,” sharing cringey scenarios like popcorn kernels, spider mouths, and misnaming church members (on accident, of course). The game sets the stage for a vulnerable, honest conversation about how suffering challenges our faith but also gives us opportunity to reflect Christ, grow in hope, and testify to God's goodness—especially when we feel most broken. Michael recaps his message on John 9, unpacking three biblical reasons we may suffer: because of sin (ours or others'), to reveal God's glory through our story, and to help us truly see what matters. The team tackles hard questions like “Is there really a heaven?” and encourages listeners not to isolate in pain, but to trust in God's purpose even when the ‘why' isn't clear. They close with a passionate look ahead to the new sermon series in Romans, inviting everyone to read, reflect, and walk through the book together this summer.

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In this NBN episode, host Hollay Ghadery speaks with Reem Gaafar about her Island Prize 2023-winning book, A Mouthful of Salt, published in Canada by Invisible Publishing. About A Mouthful of Salt: The Nile brought them life, but the Nile was not their friend.When a little boy drowns in the treacherous currents of the Nile, the search for his body unearths calamity and disaster, and exposes forgotten secrets buried for generations in a small northern Sudanese village.Three women try to make their way through a world that wants to keep them back, separated from each other by time but bound together by the same river that weaves its way through their lives, giving little but taking much more.A Mouth Full of Salt uncovers a country on the brink of seismic change as its women decide for themselves which traditions are fit for purpose – and which prophecies it's time to rewrite. About Reem Gaafar:  Reem Gaafar is a Sudanese public health physician, researcher, writer and mother of three boys. She is published in both fiction and non-fiction circles, contributing to issues on public health and policy, society, racism and women's rights. Her work has appeared in African Arguments, 500 Words Magazine, Teakisi Magazine, African Feminism, Andariya Magazine, International Health Policies and Health Systems Global. Her short story Light of the Desert was published in the anthology I Know Two Sudans (Gipping Press, UK). Her second short short Finding Descartes was published in the anthology Relations: African and Diaspora Voices (HarperVia). Her debut novel A Mouth Full of Salt (Saqi Books, Invisible Books) won The Island Prize in 2023, was listed as one of 100 Notable African Books of 2024 and is the no.1 bestseller in the indie bookshop charts in the UK. About Hollay Ghadery: Hollay Ghadery is an Iranian-Canadian writer living in Ontario on Anishinaabe land. Fuse, her memoir of mixed-race identity mental health, was released by Guernica Editions and won a 2023 Canadian Bookclub Award. Her poetry collection, Rebellion Box was released by Radiant Press in 2023, and her short fiction collection, Widow Fantasies, with Gordon Hill Press in fall 2024. Hollay is a host on The New Books Network and co-host on HOWL on CIUT 89.5 FM. She is a book publicist, the Regional Chair of the League of Canadian Poets as well as the Poet Laureate of Scugog Township. www.hollayghadery.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

In this NBN episode, host Hollay Ghadery speaks with Reem Gaafar about her Island Prize 2023-winning book, A Mouthful of Salt, published in Canada by Invisible Publishing. About A Mouthful of Salt: The Nile brought them life, but the Nile was not their friend.When a little boy drowns in the treacherous currents of the Nile, the search for his body unearths calamity and disaster, and exposes forgotten secrets buried for generations in a small northern Sudanese village.Three women try to make their way through a world that wants to keep them back, separated from each other by time but bound together by the same river that weaves its way through their lives, giving little but taking much more.A Mouth Full of Salt uncovers a country on the brink of seismic change as its women decide for themselves which traditions are fit for purpose – and which prophecies it's time to rewrite. About Reem Gaafar:  Reem Gaafar is a Sudanese public health physician, researcher, writer and mother of three boys. She is published in both fiction and non-fiction circles, contributing to issues on public health and policy, society, racism and women's rights. Her work has appeared in African Arguments, 500 Words Magazine, Teakisi Magazine, African Feminism, Andariya Magazine, International Health Policies and Health Systems Global. Her short story Light of the Desert was published in the anthology I Know Two Sudans (Gipping Press, UK). Her second short short Finding Descartes was published in the anthology Relations: African and Diaspora Voices (HarperVia). Her debut novel A Mouth Full of Salt (Saqi Books, Invisible Books) won The Island Prize in 2023, was listed as one of 100 Notable African Books of 2024 and is the no.1 bestseller in the indie bookshop charts in the UK. About Hollay Ghadery: Hollay Ghadery is an Iranian-Canadian writer living in Ontario on Anishinaabe land. Fuse, her memoir of mixed-race identity mental health, was released by Guernica Editions and won a 2023 Canadian Bookclub Award. Her poetry collection, Rebellion Box was released by Radiant Press in 2023, and her short fiction collection, Widow Fantasies, with Gordon Hill Press in fall 2024. Hollay is a host on The New Books Network and co-host on HOWL on CIUT 89.5 FM. She is a book publicist, the Regional Chair of the League of Canadian Poets as well as the Poet Laureate of Scugog Township. www.hollayghadery.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/literature

The post Daedalus and Icarus from Ovid's Metamorphoses translated by Arthur Golding appeared first on A Mouthful of Air.

Macie Stewart is a multi-instrumentalist, singer, and composer who's been a key player in the Chicago music scene, and a go-to collaborator for her string arrangements for pop stars like SZA, or playing with leading improvisers like Makaya McCraven or touring with Japanese Breakfast. Her current project is an album called When Distance Is Blue, full of atmospheric and cinematic works, soundscapes really, that feature prepared piano, field recordings, strings and more. These soundscapes make music out of the places in-between, inviting a careful listen to one's surroundings, and allowing space for the silence and boredom. Macie Stewart, along with violinist gabby fluke-mogul, play some of these works, in-studio.Set list: 1. I Forget How to Remember My Dreams/Tsukiji 2. Mouthful of Glass 3. Murmuration/Memorization

Check out three marvelous Mid-Atlantic performers perform acoustically and tell their stories behind the music on this one-of-a-kind *LIVE* podcast and performance event at Reb Records!Season 2 | Episode 1 ft. Luke Roberts, Stan Graham & J.D. Sage.Hosted by Brad William Cox & his trusty horsey sidekick, Glue Reed.Sponsored by the Harford County Cultural Arts Board.

Prepare for a captivating episode of Mouthful of Graffiti as we host the incredibly talented Mark Hopkins! Not only is Mark an original singer and songwriter with a unique voice, but he also lends his expertise as an academic advisor at the renowned Berklee College of Music. 1 Beyond his academic role, Mark actively enriches the vibrant Mid-Atlantic music scene with his engaging performances and skillful interpretations of popular songs. Get ready to delve into the musical world of Mark Hopkins! Sponsored by the Harford County Cultural Arts Board.

The 9-1-1 “Lab Rats” episode shocked fans—and not in a good way. In this episode of That's a Mouthful, we break down the chaos, controversy, and conspiracy theories surrounding the show's most polarizing storyline yet. From Bobby Nash's possible death (or resurrection?) to wild fan theories involving Jesus and Wrath of Khan, we dissect why this episode has the lowest IMDb rating in the show's history and what it says about how TV handles grief, trauma, and loyal audiences.

Send us a textTwo nerve-grinding tales of suspense and horror, set in everyone's favorite place -- the dentist's office! Celebrate oral healthcare with stories of ominous orthodonture and dental damnation!After this, I encourage you to listen toThicker Than Water, a new audio novel by yours truly. 11 hours of crime noir goodness, a savage tale of revenge, and family. I will be releasing the first couple of chapters right here, very soon. Its available for free on the patreon, but its also for sale! 10 bucks, no membership required. Music by:hammer of hathor – run run the unnamable – teeth and claws sharpened on centuries of corpsessecret birds – black teethstatiqbloom – talon's teeth Please subscribe through Buzzsprout, Stitcher, Spotify, Podchaser, or iTunesFind me on social media on Instagram Facebook and Twitter, or email me direct at AScaryHomeCompanion@gmail.comSupport our PATREON page! And check out the Redbubble merch shop. Support the show

FEATURING: (00:00:31) New Business - eShop icon hiccups.(00:07:26) Xenoblade Chronicles X: Definitive Edition.(00:48:11) Xenoblade, continued.(01:10:21) Final Fantasy V.(01:17:08) The Playdate, the handheld with the crank.(01:31:41) We Have to Talk about Tariffs.(02:17:07) Listener Mail - The Monkey Ball Question.

Off to Colorado! Morons in the News. The New Beatles Movie.   The Catchiest Songs. Everyone Needs a Laugh. Chewing Gum is a Mouthful of Microplastics.   Talback Callers. Can You Believe This? Lamar Dodges a Rescue Poodle.   From the Vault. Pedestrians Holding Parking Spaces.

New Yak penis activity unlockedYou can find every episode of this show on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or YouTube. Prime Members can listen ad-free on Amazon Music. For more, visit barstool.link/barstoolyak