Authors are a hindrance to anti-terror efforts all over the world.
Why? Because of this:
Due to our Google searches, authors must make up a good 70% of anti-terror watch lists. And while we’re being investigated for searching Does Quicklime Really Dissolve Corpses Quickly?, the real terrorists and criminals are getting away with it.
By the way, when your colleagues are discussing TV shows, don’t jump in with, “Actually, that’s not accurate. It takes several minutes of continuous inhalation for chloroform to render a victim unconscious. And also, strangling somebody is nowhere near as easy as TV makes it look.” You’ll suddenly find that nobody wants to work on 1:1 projects with you.
In my file alone, there are search records including:
1. What’s the parasite that swims into the penis?
It’s called a Candiru. It’s not actually confirmed that it does swim up the penis, but there are rumours and that was enough for the scene.
It’s difficult to understand why a female living in the UK would be interested in a South American penis-burrowing fish, unless she was up to something very shady indeed. Giving the excuse, “I’m a romance author,” poses more questions than it answers.
“I’m a horrible daughter,” she said, her voice muffled in his T-shirt. “I’m worse than a Candiru.”
“It’s this fish that apparently burrows into the penis and—”
“—okay, enough said,” Keir broke in, and crossed his legs. “You’re not worse than one of those.”
2. What’s the best knife to gut a human with?
I settled on a Ka-bar. Mostly because it looks badass. And also, three of my eight cars (yeah, it’s eight now) were Ka cars.
It’s not for me–honest–I’m a pacifist (well, a coward, but pacifist sounds better).
Adam ducked low and sliced at the man’s belly. He was fat, and the knife slid through butter, not meat.
3. Can swans kill humans?
Fear not, MI5, I’m not breeding a gang of trained man-eating swans. I have a character with a fear of them.
It turns out swans definitely can break bones, which means they could cause fatal injuries in the right circumstances. So you know, if any terrorists are reading… make sure you don’t credit me with the idea, please, because I’m already being watched.
A swan crept menacingly across the grass, its evil black eyes fixed to Ally’s right as if it hadn’t even noticed her.
Ally knew better and backed away. She was dimly aware of Marcus falling silent, then asking her a question, but all she could think about was the advancing bird.
A high pitched ee-ee sounded behind her, like the shrill warning of a whistling kettle about to boil over.
She whipped around to find another swan on the grass, closing in. They’d ganged up on her. It was like that movie Rachel had made them watch, the one with Samuel L. Jackson where sharks learned to hunt in packs.
Samuel L. Jackson got eaten. And that was Samuel L. Jackson for goodness’ sake.
Since this blog is now on a national security watch list, anybody who reads or contributes to it will also be added so… sorry about that. But if you’re an author, you’re probably already on one.
What are your most dubious Google searches?
Featured image from Andrew Gustar of Flickr.