Contest: Wombat Thoughts

(Nicked from here.)

I’ve had many totem animals. Started off with frogs, moved to meerkats, then squid, then penguins, and currently bears (see: Mord, Third Bear, Seether, upcoming “Borne”). But I think wombats are next on my list.

This one seems to me to be in an odd state of dual concentration and relaxation. Like it’s totally relaxed so it can contain the entire multiverse in its brain and, while comatose, travel anywhere it wants to travel. Kind of like a transdimensional manifestation of the Buddha.

What do you think the wombat’s thinking about? One idea per person. Deadline Thursday night. Winner gets a copy of the Bantam Veniss and City of Saints, shipped to the person of their choice as a gift. (Just got in some great pristine copies of the 1st edition of the Bantam City…)


  1. says

    I’m not sure that it is thinking. Wombats are very Zen. It comes from being pretty much solid muscle and able to bully any other creature they come across. One of their favorite sports is sitting in the road and trying to bump 4x4s into a roll.

  2. Laurel says

    I read somewhere that wombats spend most of their time rooting, and I also happen to know that rooting is Australian slang for… um … bonking. So there’s your answer right there. Or he may just have passed out after a lot of rooting. Then he’ll go out for some root beer.

  3. says


    Photographer. He’s upside down. Funny.


    Photographer. Where’s that spliff? He’s upside down. Funny.

    “Hey!! Yer upside down!”

  4. says

    Her bosom heaving, Lady Wombamarle ripped open her bodice.

    “Curse you, you vixen!” snarled Lord Womberly, casting aside his blade. “You know how much I want you!”

    She laughed in his face. “Root me then, you hairy-nosed swine. Root me like I’ve never been rooted before…”

  5. says

    A common saying regarding a wombat’s preoccupations and behavoiur is “eats roots, and leaves” You can change the comma postion to where ever and get a totally different meaning

  6. says

    Draped here life digging grasses of food and to wait day when I will pass further to Womar seeing his large darkness at the end of the tunnel of underearth of earth-referenced I move forward now rubbing upward against the root of shaft our ancient origin and when it was the darkness before this I it crushed her skull in order giving to Womar and now slowly I hide in my of myself in my fur.

  7. says

    “No. I do not understand it. The act is dirty, like fat men prostrating themselves in front of the television; shirts stained with cheese-curl dust; I will never sympathize with how otters prepare meals upon their bellies. A filthy habit–loathsome as human gluttons–yet, twice as shameful: I expect more from my river dwelling allies.”

  8. says

    I just farted. And I am afraid that, in so doing, I may have set uncountable realities off of their wheel; I can only hope that my continued pretense of sleep will spare me the judgement of these strange bipeds.

  9. says

    I don’t know much about wombats but I guess his brain works like most?

    “I’m such a dork laying here. I should be doing something useful. I’m hungry, I should go look for food. But hey… I am that lazy wombat, I’ve always been like this. I’m a lazy animal, and I can not help it. I know I should change, but I don’t give a shit!”


  10. says

    “I have the Man Dreaming. The totem Man is here, the glass eye, the lens like a log with a glass eye, and me within it. I have the Man Dreaming, brought by the Man from the sea, the clothing man, the hard-biscuit man, the Captain Man. Cook, Captain Cook. Cook Captain Cook. I have the Man Dreaming and the Dreaming Man has me dreaming.”

  11. hairball says

    “I’ve got something in my pocket (1) that belongs across my face–
    I keep it very close at hand in a most familiar place.
    I’ll bet you couldn’t guess it if you guessed a long long while–
    So I’ll take it out and put it on: It’s a great big Wombat (2) smile.”

    (1) Unless this is a boy wombat, in which case, no pocket, all bets are off. For my purposes, girl wombat, although everyone else has assumed a male marsupial. I like to say “marsupial.”

    (2) Normally a “Brownie” smile, “Brownie” being a type of Girl Scout. But this particular wombat is so happy because she’s escaped from the Brownie troop that was holding her hostage and parading her around from house to house in a desperate bid to drive up cookie sales in a bad economy. One of the over-eager Brownie moms stole her from a local zoo, put a little khaki beret on her, and a sash with merit badges. Said mother also named this poor wombat “Sally Ann.” Sally Ann (since we don’t know her real name) shucked her ersatz uniform after running into the familiar-smelling eucalyptus landscaping in some godforsaken California housing development. Wombats aren’t known for their mad running skills, which explains why Sally Ann is taking a well-deserved rest. She’s in, as Kate Bush would say, The Dreaming.

  12. says

    What was it that Avgolemono Navidson said about wombats? Oh, yeah:

    “Although the wombat is real and the dragon is not, nobody knows what a wombat looks like and everyone knows what a dragon looks like.”

    What a maroon. Who alive can fail to recognize the wonder that is me? Bask in my glory, foreign photog, before my bodyguards wrest the camera from your hands and grind you into a paste suitable for consumption by your nerdy blog audience.