Date: Thu, 01 Jun 1995 22:27:25 EST To: ckberg@uga.cc.uga.edu Subject: Fluff: mating Rituals Observed Cathy--thanks, I have all that info, nothing has worked. It is a deep puzzlement to both me and Mo. (Mo and I? I'm too tired and worried about this rehab thing for grammar). Hopefully, I'll hear from the sysop soon on whether the problem is on my end... And here's the story--sorry, no cats! *grin* For some reason, this story came to me when I was sorting the laundry... *grin* Anne _____________________ A reporter questions a famous Professor on his latest research, interviewing the scientist in his hidden observation post, where he is conducting studies on the mating rituals of a strange species. P=Professor, R=reporter. I think you can figure out most of the conversation. ;) P: A whisper: "Yes, I've been observing their mating rituals for months now. Fascinating. I've got lots of research material." R: Curiously: "What put you onto this study, Professor?" Cautious: "Rumours, you know. Heard people talking about strange phenomena associated with these specimens. I didn't really believe it, so I decided to stake out a campgrounds here and observe." Wipes brow. "Steamy here, isn't it? And you've been able to carry out your observations unmolested?" Beaming smile. "Yes. My blind has gone completely undetected, it's the perfect disguise." Gets out notebook, prepares to write. "And what have you observed, Professor?" Growing excited: "The subjects have unusual mating habits. Highly unusual. Pair bonding is very deep. Subjects always travel in pairs. I have, so far, been unable to detect how exactly each bonds with its mate, they must form life pairs in some other locale that I cannot trace. But once these pairs are formed, they are inseperable." Sceptical. "Inseperable?" Nods. "Yes, virtually. Sometimes you will see one with the wrong partner, but this infidelity never lasts long. One more cycle, and the errant one is back with its proper mate. And the bonding is very visual." Puzzled. "Visual?" Gesturing: "Look. Look closely at them. Note how each is paired with a mate so similar to itself that you cannot tell them apart. The subjects are identical in every way between mating pairs. Size, colour, pattern -- each is a perfect match for the other." Awed: "That's amazing! I hadn't noticed that. Surely that's very strange, that there's no difference in the mates?" Low voice. "That's not the only odd thing. Do you notice what's missing?" Shaken head. "No. What?" Lower voice still. "No little ones. These pairs mate, but produce no offspring." Gasp: "That's really weird! Do you suppose they're sterile?" Almost inaudible. "Or homosexual." Incredulous. "What, ALL of them?" Shrug. "Do you see another explanation of their behaviour?" Scratches head. "Then where do they come from? How do they get here?" A smile. "Ah, my friend, you've posed one of the big mysteries I hope to solve some day. I'll tell you another one--I said that they mate for life and you never see one on it's own. That's not strictly true." Surprised: "No?" Solemn nod. "No. Every once in awhile, when they come to this place for the strange cleansing ritual they perform here, one disappears. Just vanishes, without an explantion. The others search for it, especially its abandoned mate, but without luck. It's gone. The poor mate that's left never comes here for the cleansing again." Trying to take it in: "What do you think is the reason for this, Professor?" Deep, scholarly look. "Ritual sacrifice. This is a sacred place, and the gods of it require the loss of one of the mated pairs to keep the others clean and safe." Startled. "There are gods in here? That require a sacrifice? I'm outta here!" The reporter emerges, looking very worried, from the dryer where she has been conducting the interview; and thoughtfully replaces the "Out of Order" sign on the door so that the professor can continue his study of the mating rituals of socks undisturbed. The End _______ This is the result of that age-old vexing question: Where DO socks go in the dryer? I came up one short tonight, looked angrily at my roomie, and demanded, "Why don't socks mate for life?". She said, "Write a story about it". *grin* Anne