moult faster, dammit!

My centipede needs to get large enough to enter a higher weight class so it can take on Adam's house centipede, which is both more colorful and twice as large.

Adam doesn't realize that I've enrolled my centipede in hapkido classes. Along with learning the standard integrated syllabus of punches, kicks, grips, locks, open-hand (leg?) strikes, throws, escapes, and basic weapons, my centipede will be learning centipede-specific moves that take advantage of its body shape. Among these moves:

1. A 24-legged version of Neo's patented aerial "triple kick" from the Matrix movies. Imagine a beast that can deliver 72 kicks-- serially, not simultaneously-- within a quarter of a second.

2. A cool "whipping" motion that promises to rival the bent-over Pope's "cobra strike" special attack in both speed and power. I fully expect my centipede to be smashing stacked roofing tiles with its head by the end of the year. The Holy Father himself has promised to take time out of his busy schedule to act as sparring partner for my pet.

3. A mean evisceration attack involving both front and rear antennae. As with the samurai of old, my centipede will practice this move on cadavers.

4. A Jedi-style "speed-up" run that will allow my centipede to put in sudden bursts of blinding speed to move out of the way of an incoming attack.

Adam, just give it up now. Your centipede doesn't stand a chance.

By the way, Adam also has a hilarious sampling of English class dialogue by some "chugakko third graders" (is this the same as the Sino-Korean joong-hakgyo, i.e., middle school?). The dialogue sounds a lot like what Min-sung produces when I ask him to do some free writing. Min-sung's favorite line: "...and then they DIED!"

Speaking of Min-sung, his dad had to spend an extra day in hospital, but it appears he'll be coming home Friday afternoon.

_