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09-06-03, for Conjugate
Sines of our Times
Someone has given the Nymph chalk. Someone apparently didn't read the memo about letting her have art supplies and alcohol. There are circles all over the floor … apparently she started this little project when the population of La Taverna was at a low point.
And now she's getting bossy. Apparently someone also didn't read the memo about just how many drinks a Nymph is allowed to have while she's working.
She's starting to dictate seating arrangement now. Patrons have been poked and prodded and scolded for stepping outside of the intersecting circles in which they've been placed.
“There. Perfect. Don't move, any of you.”
She steps up on the stage, lowers the microphone so that she can reach, and stomps her foot for attention.
<Ahem> Out comes the wand, and she gives a lazy wave towards the juke in the corner. “Something more appropriate for the day, please.” Immediately the music changes to some seemingly random and chaotic chords.
“Yes, that's perfect. Harmonic conjugates.
“Now, as you may have guessed, we're celebrating another birthday today, and I'm hoping that I've placed you all in such a way as to most emphaasize the beauty of having this gentleman as one of our own. He's an integral part of our little group, in fact, and his influence is strong. Especially today.
“I hope that no one minds the new seating arragement.”
The Patrons all look at the circles on the floor. One Patron raises his hand. Our Nymph impatiently waves his question aside.
“Fine. I'll explain, but I have to say that I'm disappointed in you all.
“In honor of Conjugate's birthday today, I've decided that I'd point out how well math and sex work together. So, at least for today, you'll all be living in Venn.”
“Happy Birthday, Conjugate!”
