I must meet more zombies, in my little micro (uni)verse I’m well known for it.
it does not work on the Internet, and sort of works on the 'phone
I’ll have to take up an alternative, I’m pretty good at calming down dogs by talking German to them (don’t ask how I learnt that - think American Racoon Hound, Hamburg and duvet), while my German is rudimentary - I reckon dogs have a lower vocabulary and grasp of grammar.
I saw this thread as a request for descriptions of slightly unusual skills, with a comical bias to make it interesting.
I would be Worst Case Scenario Girl and I’d be able to give the potential negative outcome in every situation at a moment’s notice. Oh, wait- I already do that…
I have the Super ability to make it impossible for a Villain to shout orders to his Henchmen…it gets lost in the sound of how truly, truly awesome I am.
I would either be able to recall encyclopedic amounts of trivia or to find any object in a household. Only the trivia would always be accurate and the object would always be in the first place I suggested.
Anyone who’s seen Harvey Birdman: Attorney At Law has a pretty good idea what that would be like.
Failing that, I’d probably become some sort of cross between Alan Quatermain and Indiana Jones, looting tombs and treasure-filled archaeological sites with my trademark Pith Helmet and trusty Webley Revolver.
“Look out, it’s The Imperialist! Flee, lest he steal your country!”
I’d be sitting in my apartment next to the nuclear power plant painting up a nice figurine when…
BLAMMO!
A searing squirt of radioactive isotopes kills me instantly! But, in a freak occurence of doubtful science, I become…
PAINTERGEIST!
Yes, PAINTERGEIST! Able to manipulate my brushes and paints from beyond the grave, I continue to bore people with stories of how hard it was to get the highlighting on the soldier’s gear just right. Using my unearthly abilities, I sit for hours, hunched over and occasionally cursing softly while I fix a missed spot or repaint a blotched area.
It was a cold night in London on that fateful day back in 1998 when he first appeared - cold enough to make even the most frozen-hearted of men shiver and tears freeze on the china-like faces of their mistreated lovers.
Some say he was simply a man who’d had enough of the injustices of life and decided to make a stand. Others that his appearance shortly after the Sellafield Reactor scare could be no coincidence (although the authorities strenuously denied it at the time). All that anyone really knew for certain, however, was that there was a new citizen of the night.
From that day forward there was a new folk hero to provide the poor and downtrodden residents of the Big Smoke with hope - hope for a better life, hope that they too could one day escape the day-to-day trials and troubles of metropolitan life.
From that fateful day forward, from Shad Thames in the south to Shoreditch in the north, from Willesden in the west to Walthamstow in the east, whenever a cry for help punctured the dense, oppresive silence of the night there would come a reply, and this reply, however faint or far-away it sounded, would strike fear and terror into the hearts of those who heard it:
“Fuck that! i’m going for a beer.”
The Boozehound had arrived. London finally had a Hero. London was saved.
My job is to answer question called into my Department. So I guess I’d just go all telepathic and do away with the phone. I’m the Answer Lady! I know the answer before you even ask the question. Bwa ha ha ha.
So much pain… GarageBand is installed but… the music… so… very… crappy… FREEBIRD! FREEBIRD! AAAAAARGH!
I can go out in rather cold weather without heavy clothes or feeling the effects. I can even go out in freezing weather in shorts and tee-shirt for brief periods. So I would become The Iceman, (theoretically) capable of going starkers through an Antarctic winter storm. I’d walk for miles through Montana winters, making anyone who saw my warm and happy form shudder involuntarily.
Okay, not I by myself, but my boyfriend and I. We call it Summon Creepy Waitstaff.
When he and I go out to a restaurant, we get the weirdest waitperson in the room. The one who is excessively touchy-feely. The overly perky one. The one who asks inappropriate questions. They’re not always a bad waitperson, but they’re always unpleasantly weird.
If either one of us goes out without the other (either alone or with other friends), we don’t have a problem. If we’re both going out with friends, we can avoid Summoning Creepy Waitstaff by making sure that someone else in our group gets to the restaurant first and gets seated before we arrive. If we get there first, the Summoning takes place. When we realize that we have Summoned Creepy Waitstaff, we put our fists together, a la the Wonder Twins.
Whenever someone really irritates me, I have the ability to immediately tell them off in such a ferociously effective way that they are reduced to a state of uncontrollable sobbing.
