Challenge

Include anywhere: cashews, a drill press, silly men and a whistle.

There were times, she swore, when the station was overrun with humans. Like this one. The Festival of Live Performances bought them out of the woodwork.

She’d already passed four living statues and an eight-foot bride on the way to work, and got a cashew bar off the bride for the Minutes she put into the hat. Ant'il would have to donate it to the food bank, later. She wasn’t too sure about who would win in her biology versus cashews.

Still, the festival also bought in business. She threw open the usually shut partition that shielded her work from public view and set up the hazard rope to keep curious fingers out of things that could -say- shear them right off.

People watching people make things often became people buying things.

It was when she was busy at the drill press, whistling while she worked, that one of the live performances came to her. A cluster of humans (of course) dressed up in chain mail and tabards. Some were dressed in burlap, carried enormous backpacks and, for some reason known only to them, two coconut halves which they bought together in a specific rhythm obscure to Ant'il.

“How may I help you?” she risked.

“It is I, Arthur, son of Uther Pendragon, from the castle of Camelot. King of the Britons, defeater of the Saxons, Sovereign of all England!”

“Really?” Ant'il put the latest part of her work safely away and discretely hit the kill switch for the entire machine shop. She wouldn’t have trusted this lot in a pillow factory.

“And this is my trusty servant Patsy. We have ridden the length and breadth of the land in search of knights who will join me in my court at Camelot. I must speak with your lord and master.”

“Ridden? On… what?”

“A horse, of course.”

Horse. Oh yes. She’d seen a juvenile at a petting zoo, once. Leggy creatures that walked around on one talon and ate vegetation. There weren’t any here, though. “There are no horses. You have been using coconuts to imitate the sound.”

“No we aren’t,” said ‘Arthur’.

Oh, Powers. It was one of those performances. Where the goal was to get some hapless bystander irritated to the point where people started throwing money.

“If I get angry now, will you go away?” asked Ant'il hopefully.

[Muse food remaining: 12. Submit a prompt! Ask a question!]

Clarity, confidence, the nice guy and when someone finally listens and learns.

It started with a T-shirt. It read, If you think the world is full of assholes, maybe you’re the asshole. He knew he wasn’t an asshole, so he called the guy in the shirt one as he passed the other way.

Then there were the billboards and adverts. It was for a men’s charm school, he figured. He didn’t need that noise.

Chicken feathers, a glass eye and a grasshopper.

“The least you could do is pitch in,” grumped Hwell as he alternated between shovel and pick.

“The least I could do,” argued Axand'l, “is go meditate while you indulge yourself in this… adventure holiday.” He tisked at the thought of wasting time on frivolous things. “As it is, I am recording this for edutainment purposes.”

Hwell rolled his eyes as if to say, Saurians!

The fourth day of therapy for the man who’s ‘Appreciation’ for Julie was dashed by Shayde’s particular brand of intervention.

Day four. The human man known on his paperwork as John Smith still rocked himself in place. He still preferred a soft, gentle environment. He did not want any variety of toy that had eyes.

He had, however, finally stopped repeating, “They wanted to eat me.”

Orsiz'edand'l viewed this as a positive sign. Human

The unfortunate incident at the art exhibit hosted by the woman and the helper dog.

Rael never saw the point of clothes that existed just to be seen in. Nevertheless, he pretty much *had* to wear his dressiest JOAT coat and neatest clothing for this. Shayde, on the other hand, took to Show like a duck to water.

He knew for a fact that she had spent most of the day in a salon getting her hair turned into the fabulously interesting

The cacophony of circumstances that allows Storm to discover Scott Summers indeed crying over spilled milk.

Ororo woke when she heard the smash. Air currents in the mansion had not changed, so no-one had broken in. Yet someone was roaming about, all the same. She summoned a ball of lightning as an improvised lantern and set it safely above her head so she could see what was going on.

Professor, sound asleep. Logan was out on one of his roaming quests, so

The Scooter Conspiracy is defeated, albeit temporarily, when educator Scott correlates grade reduction with youth pranks of exuberance. Storm makes an appearance.

“You’ve all heard the news. Sara Louise Adrien and Mortimer Thaddeus Toynbee are now officially engaged, an item, and allowed to go out. With my blessing.” Scott cleared his throat. “This has not stopped what is known as the Scooter Conspiracy from continuing to target me as a favoured victim in your pranks.”

The

From Duncan’s perspective, show the victory of Scott and how he achieved it. Todd, Kelly and Graydon Creed make appearances. Jean laughs at Duncan as she dumps him. Duncan eats crow and gags.

“Damnit. Where the fuck are my pants?”

Duncan had got his clothes on in the order they came to him. In this case, that meant his shirt, coat and a pair of heart-pattern boxers that, though his size, were not his style.

And since it