[Herr D]

I just realized I’m the only entry again. Keric has not responded to PM I sent yesterday to remind him to judge. (Hope you’re ok, man.)

In the interests of keeping this alive and mostly on schedule, these three tails are what I pick. If ams or Keric or anyone has a good reason why not, we’ll read their posts about what to do instead.

[Herr D]

If I have three interested replies by Tuesday noon, I will extend this contest. I think it sounds fun.

**I guess no one agrees. M2MM-module 3 is officially closed (since it’s Wednesday now,) but if you wish to submit an entry, do so here and keep your text. It may be worth a leg up in another contest. Module 1, the Enforcer challenge is still open.

[Herr D]

Another hero. [checks temperature]

Don’t ask Banner the obvious question. I managed to capture this moment when she faced off against a brutal tough. His head WAS found . . .

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/HerrD-BannerDay_zps97c7bc36.png
*

[Herr D]

Some days OTC pain relievers aren’t enough. Robin Williams once declared there was a med named ‘F***itol.’ It might be nice to temporarily not be capable of CARING about excessive pain . . . Some of us aren’t lucky enough to have a physiognomy that falls within the bell curves of standard medicines anyway.

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/2013hm/HerrD-SimultaneousMigraineAndToothache_zps8cbb66e1.png

And anyone who reacts so badly to meds as I do and has a 10-million megaton imagination, the illegal choices would be an even worse idea than they would be for perfectly ordinary, perfectly healthy people who are safe taking the regulated stuff. Meditation, anyone? Comes in five levels of effectiveness: ADHD, Bungler, Mediocre, Veritable Expert, and Zen. Dosage PRN. [as needed] The above pic is entitled ‘Simultaneous Migraine And Toothache.’

[Herr D]

Doh! Yah, okay, post number. So I can find your pics. Sheesh.

Moving on . . . Some contests it IS better to lose. I’ve never been into reality t.v., but something tells me the appeal is far-flung.
Glrt had better be careful, too; he might break his suit.

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/2013hm/HerrD-IfAliensHaveRealityTV_zpsd6d10b01.png

[Herr D]

Arrgh. The photobucket improvement team have broken the cropping. I can’t get hm to pm.

Ah well. It occurs to me that reality t.v. couldn’t possibly be so popular JUST here. And that winning is frequently losing.

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/2013hm/HerrD-IfAliensHaveRealityTV_zpsd6d10b01.png

Let’s hope we lose that particular contest . . .

[Herr D]

Interesting that on q3 I got 3, 7, 14, and 18 correct. 7 I got right because of former project work. I blew the only Star Wars question I had a chance at because I remembered destination instead of embarkation. So, technically my quiz scores for SW, ST, & DW measure the reverse order of my enjoyment of the shows, while I did just as well based on my own knowledge of obsolete media techniques . . . so I test inaccurately, I didn’t have as much money as know-how, and I’m old . . . yeesh.

q4: 2, 4, 16, and narrowly missed recognizing 20. 16 was just too memorable a name.

[Herr D]

Once you have a lot of spatter in a scene, you might add spatter by coloring the last several items in MaleFace, stubble from FacialHair, rubble from Backgrounds, and add drippage and seepage by using various random shapes like translucent clouds, etc.

As to the 3d effect of breasts, all you can really do is put shadow from one on the other unless you highlight them unevenly–and that sounds hard to get right.

[Herr D]

@WMDBASSPLAYER said:

group shots???

Uh, Forums/heromachine gallery/tips and tricks/kaylin’s tutorials block 23 or so. That’s apparently one way. I don’t understand all of it and can’t get PM to work to ask her right now. The bit about why not to use ‘all items’ when moving. Ah, well. Good luck.

[Herr D]

@Weilyn said:

he rambles

Alcohol does seem to have that effect. I think the main reason I don’t like to be in bars is the volume. I forget why intoxicants cause people to be unaware of how loud they and their surroundings are.

Considering the implied content, are you going to wind up zypping on blushes?

[Herr D]

–I’m guessing that mothers of mountains must be really tough. I mean the babe having four navels would hint at a tendency for the mom NOT to give up her nutrients. [comparative xenobiology 101]

THERE’S a question: How would you depict something being so tough that it’s offspring would need four navels just to suck enough nutrients out of it’s blood to survive till birthing? And then need that many hands to claw it’s way out?

[Herr D]

Eeww. I hope I didn’t make that up. This is block #126. 20 blocks to a thread page.
(is there a more correct name? I am much less used to the virtual world than the so-called actual one.)

[Herr D]

[continuation of Chapter 7]

Jennifer caned up to the mailboxes and unlocked her box. Junk mail and cable bill. She pocketed the bill, tore the rest in half and stuffed it in the slot marked ‘paper only.’ She turned to see Shelley pointing to the wall above the boxes. She looked up.
Already on the wall were the spray-painted words ‘3 Dr. Li’s! No relation, I bet!’ in uneven black. Please–not even funny.
“Uh huh.” She glanced down. The boxes DID all have the label ‘Dr. Li.’ She shrugged. “So, do you want to come back?”
They startled her by doubling up. Shelley carried everything but the hidden camera box, Jennifer carried the box, and Young Mike carried her. I could get used to THIS, Tarzan. They put everything but the dog pillows and the hidden camera box into Jennifer’s place and, hearing a television on in Brandon’s room, knocked. Brandon opened up, looking surprised.
“Hello? Jennifer, right?” He glanced at Shelley, wary.
“Yes. My friend here wanted to ask you–“
“If you’d like a dog pillow or two. I don’t need them anymore,” Shelley turned her head slightly more away from the camera, as if trying not to tear up. “Jennifer says you have a dog.”
Brandon looked downcast. He opened the door wider, letting them see a full-size dog bed next to the television. “I can’t get Rocky to use what he has. Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Sir? Is that a map from Vietnam?” said Young Mike, nodding at the wall above the t.v. set.
Brandon nodded. “Man in a market there sold them. There were times it was better information than we had.” It was missing pieces near each corner and along two creases where it had been folded.
Shelley looked around, as if confused. “Well, sorry to bother you; I’ll just donate them, I guess.”
Jennifer leaned in further, “Brandon? Where IS Rocky?” He’s not going to get the hint, Shelley.
“He’s at the vet.”
“Oh, he’s not sick, is he?”
Brandon frowned. “Funny thing. He’s acting healthier. Sometimes that means a dog is dying, so I’m having his pleurisy checked out.”
Shelley blinked. “Pleurisy? I don’t know that one.”
Brandon made a small smile. “I don’t know what they call it now. Rocky is an old dog. He gets fluid in his lungs. He likes putting his chest on the cold floor for a spell and then coughing it up. It’s probably bad for him, but it’s apparently easier to cough up that way. I guess it works pretty damn well. The vet said he was as well off as if he’d been on oxygen, but he needs to stay in for tests.”
That was COUGHING? No wonder. I thought he just had a wimpy bark. “Well, do you know anyone around who needs them?”
–Quick follow-up on inquiries was enough to tell them that no one knew of a pet that had died in either building. The only odd thing was a set of missing wind chimes being attributed to pranksters.
They’d been back less than ten minutes when David came storming up to Jennifer. “Where were you!”
Shelley looked up from her console and began walking toward them. You’re helping? “I helped Shelley with a lead.”
“She did.” Shelley was only just close enough not to shout. Nate got up to go for coffee. Awh, my hero.
“What?!” David was red-faced, shaking a piece of paper. “Tia needs this edited and put in the ‘prompter for the filming at two, and you weren’t where we could find you.” He tossed the page down onto her desk. One page? What, ten more minutes?
“That shouldn’t be a problem.” Jennifer picked it up. Fluff piece for a fluff-brain. No problem at all.
“What do you mean, you helped with a lead?! You’re not a reporter.” Neither are YOU, Davy-boy.
“I helped introduce her to some informants.”
“Excuse me?” No excuse FOR you, Davy-boy.
“Excuse ME,” said Shelley, “I needed her. We got partial information on a mysterious accident, two petty thefts, one possible human-interest story–though that one’s doubtful, and a local pervert.” Did you record Mrs. Smith and I talking about my underwear?
David reddened even more. “She was supposed to be editing.”
“She was typing in the van,” Young Mike said. Where did you come from?! “That’s why we took her laptop.”
David was obviously startled to see Young Mike too. “Wh–that laptop can’t hold a charge.” You didn’t notice it was GONE, did you? HAH!
“You know Po rigged up a charge adaptor for the van,” said Shelley. David reddened even more.
“But your ploy worked. You should be happy.” Young Mike nodded brightly. What are you doing?
“Ploy?” David was reddening even more.
“Yeah. That contest you inspired. You got a newsworthy name. Mr. Crowe picked his favorite already. Wasn’t much of a contest. Now every news service is gonna want our footage. All it cost you were a bunch of desserts and the company gets guaranteed success on follow-up reporting.” Wow. That was actually smooth. He’s slow enough to go for that if I keep quiet.
David opened his mouth. He closed his mouth. He opened his mouth again. He closed his mouth again. He blinked twice. “I think we said appetizers or desserts.” He walked away, blinking. YESSSS! He might even forget to be mad that the winning entry is credited to me.

[Herr D]

[BONG BONG BONG] Woohoo! In celebration of my 1000th view, I hereby declare the next requestor on this thread the winner of a blurb. Any hm participant with their own pic thread simply post “I request a blurb for” and three to four character names with their block numbers. I must have at least three choices. Only demons, devils, or other supreme evils are ineligible.

One blurb, most likely zany, will be delivered to your thread and possibly copied here. I tend to backstory, irony, surprise, reversals, and attempted wit. . . GO!

***edit: Blurb delivered to Weilyn, from post #76 now to #322. She really DID call me a muse!

[Herr D]

Chapter 7: Foiled Plans

Parking turned out to be easy. They piled out of the van, and Shelley packed the laptop while Young Mike rigged a cardboard box with double-faced tape on the inside, putting the lens up to a subtle hole and fastening it, then arranging the viewer module on a bendy wire up near the half-open flaps. Like most of the equipment owned by Backington Studios, it looked like junk but was in fine working order. He added a Backington phone book to the bottom of the box and hefted it. He added a handful of mouse pads and a small cloth shopping bag and hefted it again. He positioned it in his hands as if it were heavy and glanced down into the darkened box. He nodded. “Ready.”
He led the way up to Jennifer’s apartment building, gliding instead of walking so as not to bounce the camera. Just as they arrived at the front door, the paramedics came out with the gurney. Shelley trotted to the lead, “Oh, no; what happened?”
The smaller paramedic looked up at her and smiled with recognition, “Bye, Shelley.” They piled in the ambulance.
Shelley turned to face the box. “Paramedics had no comment on the injuries sustained. Ma’am? Do you know what happened?” Jennifer was standing completely still, shocked expression on her face. “I don’t know. He was my apartment manager.” Mr. Han IS a jerk, but that looked BAD! She resumed walking inside. Shelley held the door for them.
Inside, Jennifer caned herself right up to Mrs. Smith. “Mrs. Smith, what happened?”
Mrs. Smith turned slightly. “I don’t know, dear. Mr. Han had some kind of accident with his stove. We may have to turn the gas off and on this evening for an inspection.”
“An inspection?”
“He said he wasn’t using his stove. But I found burn marks and smoke all over the kitchen. He probably somehow turned on the gas without lighting it.” Mrs. Smith turned to appraise Shelley and Young Mike. “You’re home early. No trouble I hope?”
“They’re carrying some things up for me.” Ugh, it’s like lying to a grandmother I never had.
“Oh. It’s good that they’re here. The elevator won’t work until the fire chief finishes. It shouldn’t be very long, but he has to check all the breakers on the same wall and all the fire alarms in this hall.” Mrs. Smith then made a face. “Mr. Han told me he offered to move you again when he called me this morning. I may have to fire him when he’s better.”
What? “Fi-fire him?”
Mrs. Smith made another face and snaked her hand around the doorjamb into Mr. Han’s apartment. Around the doorway out of sight there was a crumpling noise. She pulled a large paper bag to herself and held it out to Jennifer. “Do you recognize any of these?”
Jennifer looked down into the bag and her face began to redden. He HAS been stealing my laundry.
“The polka-dotted and the B-cup there,” she whispered, “I don’t recognize the others.”
Mrs. Smith nodded, tight-lipped. “I’m going to take these to the police. They were all over his couch when I found him. You were right about him, Jennifer. I’m glad I did what you asked and kept your keys myself.” She sighed.
Poor old Mrs. Smith. That’s the second manager you’ve had to let go in two years. See if I ever try to retire on rental properties! “If my legs weren’t a problem, I might take the job myself, Mrs. Smith.”
She smiled. “I might not mind your legs, Jennifer. At least I could trust you.”
Jennifer smiled back. “If it weren’t for my legs and my other job I might apply. But I’ll help you find someone.”
Mrs. Smith patted her on the shoulder. “I may need that, dear.” She walked toward the fire chief, who was just visible at the fire exit.
Burn him. I remember thinking that about Mr. Han . . . when was that? . . .
Jennifer walked back to Shelley and Young Mike. “Stove accident,” she said. Why don’t I believe that? “No elevators.”

[Continued next block]

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