Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Tigress Shapeshifter ~ My claws ache for justice...
Discombobulated greetings, shapeshifter lovers. Yep, my head is spinning... my eyeballs are spinning. Finally, oh finally, Kandy Apple and Her Hellhounds is polished, and ready for submission. So... when I looked at the date from a numerology point of view... well, here’s a quote from my Kougar Kisses bloggie ~ Oooh, the numbers are freaky magical too. It’s a FOUR MONTH, and a FOUR DAY, and a FOUR year ~ April 4, 2011 ~ picture this Big Cat cross-eyed right now.
Warning: The Tigress is back with her jaw-crunching, bloodletting brand of justice... even if there is no actual crunch of jaws in this flash scene. However, no, this flash is not for the faint of heart... or the politically correct.
Tigress Shapeshifter ~ My claws ache for justice...
I glance at the crystalline screen, brought from my far-away homeworld, and my lip curls in a snarl. Immediately, my claws ache for justice. Glaring at the Earth news headline, I almost spill the specialty creamy coffee my Zurroc has thoughtfully made for me.
Mon Apr 4, 11:22 am ET
Transocean awards safety bonuses to execs, BP vies to resume Gulf oil exploration
By Brett Michael Dykes
As I continue reading I rumble a warning growl. The hair on the back of my neck raises, and the urge to morph, then taste spurting blood has me seeing red. Blood red!
As The Lookout reported last week, corporations doled out skyrocketing bonuses to executives in 2010, while the average worker keeps putt-putting along. And now comes news that executives at Transocean—which owned the Deepwater Horizon platform that blew up and claimed the lives of 11 oil workers while touching off the BP oil spill—are collecting safety bonuses for their performance in 2010.
Controlling my inner beast, for now, I stare at the screen until I see words again. “Dastardly despicable liars,” I growl loudly. Yes, I want my Zurroc to hear me. Rage is beginning to boil my huntress blood.
While noting "the tragic loss of life" in the incident that led to last summer's Gulf disaster, the company said in a regulatory filing that it would pay two-thirds of a possible safety bonus to senior managers because—outside of the Deepwater Horizon explosion—the company's 2010 safety record was "exemplary," claiming it was "the best year in safety performance in our company's history."
“I could go on a shredding, ripping, killing spree.” I viciously snarl the words as Zurroc approaches, and moves to my side. Quickly, his growl thunders through me, as we scan the article together.
Transocean is one of three main parties involved in the disaster—together with BP and Halliburton—and the official verdict is still not in on how much responsibility it bears. Just last week, Bureau of Ocean Energy Management Regulation and Enforcement director Michael Bromwich accused Transocean of stonewalling investigations into the causes of the incident. Until the bureau can effectively gather and cull that information, Bromwich, explained, investigators cannot determine what kind of fines to assess among the three companies involved in the disaster.
“What the fang-ripping fuck?” Zurroc spins on his heel, pacing, his hand whipping through his hair.
“The problem is,” I pause for an instant, “a blood-pouring killing spree won’t help.”
“No,” he snaps in a growl. His back and forth strides are beyond agitated, and I know he is thinking at a furious speed.
Automatically tasting my coffee, I also burn the gray matter. “What if we ruin them the way they’ve ruined others?”
Zurroc halts, whirling to face me. “Similar to the way you did before? By spreading the wealth into the little people’s bank accounts.”
I nod, a plan forming nicely inside my head. “Only this time. Let’s put their ugly stinky asses into foreclosure. We’ll wipe out every bit and byte of their bank accounts. Every stock and bond they own... oh!” I jump, but not enough to spill my coffee. “We’ll put them into a debt hole they can’t climb out of. No matter how much gold and silver they have secreted away.”
Zurroc’s gaze darkly glitters with speculation. His brow furrows as he considers how to accomplish what I’ve spoken. Not only how, but how fast.
“I have learned how to manipulate this primitive technology well enough,” he begins. “Put on the serious coffee pot, Kytaira. Let’s get started.”
“Yes, sir.” I imitate American speech, then take a hopping step toward the kitchen cabinet.
“And, the side of beef,” he calls after me.
“Bloody rare?” I shout.
“Fire up the pit, my tigress. We have a long day and night ahead of us.”
“Yes, my black tiger,” I holler back, as I set my coffee mug down.
Reaching for the monster commercial coffee pot, I catch myself smiling. With a flip of my hair, I plug it in, then bend over for the large container. Yeah, from Jamaica, Blue Mountain coffee beans.
Now, it’s my turn to play the supportive role. Finally.
Zurroc will be the one savagely killing off the futures of those who take blood money for the lives they have brutally ruined. For the murderous acts they commit over and over again like mad beasts.
“Thirty pieces of silver was nothing back in the day,” I mutter to myself, as I stride toward the meat locker. “Grrrrr,” I growl as I think. At today’s silver prices...what? A mere thousand dollars, or so.
“I’m in,” Zurroc roars. “Let the slaughter of evil begin. My claws ache for justice.”
HAPPY SPRINGTIME SHAPESHIFTING
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~