So Long, and Thanks for All the Dolphin Frottage

After several months of keeping The Swarm updated in two locations, our accounting department has decided it just doesn't make economic sense any more.

So from now on The Swarm will only be updated at: http://teemingswarm.com/.
Please adjust your bookmarks accordingly.

Here's a picture of a bird trying to eat a cat.

So Can Sensual Ice Skating

Thanks for the tip, Aol!

Previously:
This
This
and This

Teen Wolf Too

Below are some excerpts from my upcoming Twilight fan fiction novella, Harvest Moon.

Note: I've never actually read any of the Twilight books, so if any of these excerpts are word-for -word the same as passages from the novels, it's totally a coincidence.

Revving the engine, Edward sped his motorcycle through the night. There was still time; he could sense it. If he was only fast enough, he could still make it. Screeching to stop in front of Bella's house, Edward vaulted off the bike and raced toward the door. She had been right, he shouldn't have eaten that third enchilada.

"Edward! What are you doing in Leningrad?" asked Jacob
"I just wanted to say hi... comrade."

"We were part of an elite yard care service. We tended to the gardens of the nobility. Periodically the lycans would swoop down from the hills, digging holes and pooping everywhere. Thus began a fued that continues to this day. My clan of landscapers was known by our specialty. We were called "Raking Lawn".

"Do you know Jacob's e-mail address?"
"Yeah, I got if from that list at the bumper boat place. It's breakingdongslol@wolfenstein.net."

"Bella, this is the perfect night. The night when I give you everything of myself. The night when finally you surrender the wonders of your body for the first time."
"Sure." mumbled Bella.
"Sure? What 'sure'?" asked Edward, confused.
"Well, I mean, pretty much."
"You haven't given yourself to that filthy mongrel Jacob, have you, my dear?" he said, his anger rising.
"What? Oh, no. But last summer, I was at that party with Jeff Webber, and y'know, he really liked me and we were making out for a
while..."
"He didn't hurt you, did he?"
"No, it's just that we were fooling around for a while in a bedroom, and I sort of let him do it with my butt."
"Bella!"
"Look, he didn't put it in or anything. He just had sex with my butt cheeks. It was kind of like a hotdog in a bun. I also let him watch me pee."
"Cool..."

Edward quickly changed into his alt mode and fired his cannon at the face of the dam.

Bella winced at the afternoon sun. Looking down, she noticed her skin twinkling. Had it truly happened? Had she become one of the immortal? No, she realized, it was just glitter on her from when that clown exploded.

"Bella, it's not just our shapeshifting that makes us different." Jacob explained. "From the time we can walk we are given special training. Most people have no idea about what we really are. But sometimes, bits of the truth come out. Do you remember that TV show Werewolf Accountant? I myself am a level three CPA."

"Jacob! What are you doing on the space station!?" asked Edward, baffled.
"I just wanted to tell you something... igloo buddy." Jacob sneered.
"Noooooooo!"

The Tyrannosaurus hung his head. Bella had finally noticed him, but he had to turn down her offer. He had never learned to Tango!

"Whatever." said Edward. Bella gently leaned her head on Edward's chest, exhaling the aroma of Chili Cheese Fritos.

Jacob looked around nervously, shifting his weight from foot to foot before casually reaching down to adjust his wolf penis.

Sunday Cipher #45 - Operator The Dyslexic Telegraph

Well, what did you expect? Can you figure out the dyslexic telegraph operator's message before Aslan picks up his formal mane from the cleaner's?

Below is a quote from a famous person encoded with a substitution cipher. Each letter has been swapped for another. Today's hint: H equals F.

Note: The first period in this cipher is not a full stop, but a dot for an abbreviation. There is also an umlaut somewhere in this week's puzzle!

"DU/ NVWRS/ VZEQS/ RWEQZB/ LVZG,/ EHSZQ/ 175/ UZEQR,/ DQ./ DYBWGETB/ HFGETTU/ HWXGB/ SVZ/ WQFNFGET/ TUQFYR/ SW/ 'HXQ/ ZTFRZ'."/
- (NVWRS)/ TXBLFN/ IEG/ CZZSVWIZG

The first person to e-mail me the correct answer at imillermoth@gmail.com wins a prize! If you would like your prize sent to you, include a mailing address with your answer.

Last week's answer:
"So this harness can lift an entire horse off the ground just so you can put pants on it? Oh, you dropped your pencil; I'll grab it." - Catherine The Great

Blame It on No Shame

Spotted on the way to work. Fab!

I See Dead Careers

Looks hard times for Haley Joel Osment.

Eight Arms to Hold You

This piece is clearly about a month old.

The spiders, with whom I am engaged in an ongoing, endless battle, have decided to use this season to mount a new offensive. It hasn't been OK. I know the spiders know I hate them. I know the spiders know this is a war.

A couple months back I found a spider waiting for me. In my mail. I can't figure what else a spider was doing in my mail except waiting. My mailbox gets opened and has activity in it several times a day. It's a little dark box, sure, but it isn't exactly spider heaven in there. Yet a spider was in there, not just in the box, but in between the pieces of mail I removed. Waiting. I of course sprang back, dropped all my mail, and stomped on each piece.

Shortly after, I was sitting in a friend's back lawn enjoying a beer. We weren't there more than two minutes before I saw a huge spider skittering his way through the lawn right near us. I realized that the spider must have been in the area first, and since it was crawling away from us, I let it be. Not five minutes later, another God damned spider was climbing up my bare arm. C'mon spider! Do you really think that tasty insects can be caught in a web somewhere on my shoulder?

Next, I find this asshole in my shower.

This wasn't a small spider. Here it is in better perspective.

Naturally I soaked it in Raid. When it comes to spiders I'm way too much of a pansy to even pick up its corpse with a wad of toilet paper, so after it stopped running and dying I broke it up with a broom handle so it would go down the drain. Oh, I forgot to mention where I previously saw a spider exactly like this one. Just walking across my living room floor the night before. Not hiding in a corner or running along a baseboard, but just crossing my floor in bright light like he lived there. I checked my lease. He wasn't on it. He got a large book dropped on him.

Then they tried to get me at work. Shortly after the tubspider, one of these creatures was rappelling down the wall of my cubicle quite near me. Another big damn spider. I stood up and tried to figure what to crush it with, and how the hell I was going to crush it without it dropping and running. Of course my first timid thrust with the spine of a 3-ring binder was lame, the spider dropped behind my monitor and I wondered how I could finish the day knowing it was loose somewhere. I tried to be an adult about the situation and went back to work. In my job many papers come to my desk paper-clipped and leave stapled. I have an old Kleenex box on my desk that I toss paper clips into and also reach into whenever I need one. Guess where I found that evil bastard? Just came straight charging out of the box, that's where. Thank God I didn't have my hand in there at the time. It got crushed with the binder. Next day, another of these big sons-of-bitches came crawling along my wall again. It also got crushed with a binder.

Look! Another spider in my bathtub!
(Yes, I have cleaned it since then)

Sometimes I think my bathroom window exists exclusively so spiders can get in the tub. It's like a dog door for spiders. Spider door.

Then, they sent some sort of monster after me.

Here's a better picture. Make sure you see the whole thing. About half of its horrible body is kind of buried in the web.

I'm really praying that the first snow kills this demon.

This thing is fast and it lives not 20 feet from my door. It even has some god-awful funnel web.

I think that's a leg in the background. Probably the delivery guy
bringing fetal mice for the spider to devour.

I can't even get near this thing to pour bleach on it. It's just waiting like some sort of arachnassassin or arachnommando.

Next up? Another spider in my mailbox.

After that? One of those horrid translucent white/yellow things dangling in front of my bathroom mirror, probably waiting to swing into my mouth when I brush my teeth. Then it would lay eggs in my tongue.

It never seems to end. They've had many failures. But much like Skynet, Pyrrhus, and Ryan Reynolds, they just won't stop.

And now... now, they aren't fucking around anymore. They've realized that I won't be killed so easily. They sent this for me.

I assume it has already eaten my neighbors and their children. If I don't come back soon, just torch the house. If I'm still alive, I'm comatose and filled with millions of eggs. And unless you're Nadya Suleman, that's no way to be.