Quote:
Originally Posted by Mindy
Am I the only one left around here who doesn't have a time machine yet?
Not that it matters when I get it, of course, but I would appreciate if anyone who's seen me with one could let me know, or whether I should start harassing the Post Office, or arrange for a temporal adjustment field for my wings (either of which could prove extremely time-consuming, difficult and, ultimately, painful*).
*For someone.
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Oh, they don't have time machines (well, technically, Queen Zee does, because I upgraded her jetpack so she arrives before she left), but I
do happily arrange time displacement for justifiable purposes (like attending my parties, or running for a 2004 US presidential election, as with pshrynk, or getting to the icecream shop before it closes after it has already closed. You know,
important things)
However, Mindy, since you dealt so thoroughly with that rude and overly forward individual at my second-to-last Party, in the process redecorating the atrium so tastefully (and also prompting me to add to my Party Rule Book a new item: Don't frack with the Fairy!), then, as Manager and Owner of Montsnmags Enterprises (supplier, supporter and performance-enhancer of MobileRead's Moderator Jetpacks, and chief armourer of the Virgo Supercluster's major Black Ops units), I may just be able to help you here.
For some time I've been working with the Angels of the Interstices to completely upgrade their Temporal Displacement Fields (otherwise known as their "wings"), but with their requirement that I not in any way alter the beauty of their physicality (the Angels are immensely proud, and with nowhere to fall). Now, by good fortune, the device actually takes the form of a small tiara (so small that it can be hidden within a larger hair-do should modesty require), and it can be simply fashioned into any form desired by...well, this is going to sound a bit "magic" (but "sufficiently advanced" technology can be like that)...but it can be fashioned into any form desired (as long as it remains sufficiently "tiara") just by thinking it while wearing it.
I've skipped the Post Office. You should find the Angel Field upon your dressing table right now, next to your beautiful mother-of-pearl hairbrush (displacement fields are so convenient for expediting delivery). I've presumed to deliver it in white gold and pink diamond, but please don't feel obliged to retain it in that form.
Don't share it around. The Angels said that they like you (apparently "Oh, she's so cute!") and are thrilled to kit you out in their own form...but they're a jealous and, as mentioned, proud bunch, and, well, they're also Angels - the kind that ride Horses into the Apocalypse - and don't like their "pets" (sorry, that's you - they're very "pet-loyal" though) spreading their love. Silly, I know, but, well, with power comes great responsibility (or threats from the more powerful). You know how it is. They
do love you though, as do I (platonically of course) and, especially, as does Adrian. Please, enjoy.
See you at the party (the next/last one).
Cheers,
Marc