Posts Tagged: molepeople

Molepeople Drinks by Frank Sjodin

Once again, ladies and gentlemoles, we highly recommend that you not attempt to prepare these at home without the supervision of a trained MoleFeeder.


1 day ration of hot coffee (1 mugful, ~1 cup)

¼ day’s ration of HartLife powdered dairy supplement

1 ounce dark bitter chocolate, claw-chopped

crushed ant sprinkles to taste

Easiest coffee drink to make, just mix the ingredients together and sprinkle some crushed ants on top. Works like coffee but tastes much better and includes valuable calcium and proteins as well, mmmmmmmmmmm!


Esspressmole (aka Mole Miner’s GetUpAndGo)

½ mug hot coffee

2 crushed HartLife A1 class stimulant pills

1 crushed HartLife SR “Labor Enhancer” pill

Pour the crushed pill powder into the coffee, mix together, and drink as fast as possible.

note – take only before performing strenuous physical labor such as marathon digging, heavy lifting, moving wrecked heavy machinery, swimming while carrying digging tools, or other equivalent tasks. Do not take before bed. Do not take if you are under 120 lbs, under the age of 3 years or over the age of 13 (congratulations, by the way!), pregnant, trying to become pregnant, have high identity variance or low stress tolerance ratings, or have a history of heart problems. HartLife guarantees that there are no health risks or adverse effects from this drink for a healthy adult mole as long as less than 3 are consumed per month!


Mole-asses Shaker

½ mug of HartGin

a squirt of worm juice

spoonful of molasses

mix all ingredients into any empty metal ration canister. Re-seal it, then attach it by magnet to an industrial jackhammer. Activate tool for 7-15 seconds, then remove canister (with hotpads), shake vigorously, and pour into a mug. Best if drank while still warm.


Simple secret, just pour a shot of HartGin (or more!) into your morning bucket of worm-juice, and stir it with a claw or your pick-ax handle. As long as you just have one, shift leaders rarely notice.

Classic Molepeople Recipes!

Frank Sjodin, writer for Season One of Our Fair City and actor for Seasons One and Two (Andrew Snidge), brings us classic Molepeople recipes from the HartLife CookManual.

[Nota Bene: the staff of Our Fair City do not recommend you attempt the creation of ANY of these recipes at home.  Creatures have been specially genetically engineered to create and consume these culinary delights.]

Wormgetti and Peatballs

A classic staple meal for any mole family, wormgetti made from leftover live earthworms is the best way to stretch a worm (physically and figuratively!) into another meal. You can also use store-bought wormgetti if your workstation happen to be high enough ranking to have a grocery store!

Classic Wormgetti

Traditional wormgetti is made from live earthworms, flattened with a rolling pin and vacuum sealed (or laminated). Remember, after flattening the worm, it will fight to regain its original diameter quickly if it survives the flattening process. Some chefs use a greased hot iron press to flatten the worms, but this sometimes chars the worm to the iron press, and always adds an unnecessary level of oil that although increasing the caloric value of the worm, dilutes the pure, effervescent earthworm flavor that the distinguished mole will crave.

A proper strength vacuum sealer will actually suck most of the moisture out of your worms, which will allow them to wrinkle into wormgetti after a few days, especially if stored in a warm place. This moisture collected is called “worm-juice,” naturally, and should be saved as it is a vital ingredient for many sauces, soups, and salad dressings. Laminating worms doesn’t always remove all of the moisture, and on top of that makes it nearly impossible to collect the worm-juice, but some office-moles swear by it for the unique essence of plastic it infuses wormgetti with.

When 3-7 days have passed, inspect your worms and if they appear yellowish and wrinkled, your wormgetti is ready! Fry it in a shallow pan of water, and it will absorb enough of the water to be digested properly, but have a pleasingly chewy texture in contrast to the wriggling and ooze popping of a live worm.

Peatballs ala Hartford

Peatballs are a delicacy originally available only to tunnel diggers who happened to find moss growing near underground rivers. Today, thanks to an incomplete mansion half paid for and abandoned by the Gilmore family, a public mossfarm exists for the sole purpose of growing edible moss for mole consumption. A true peatball is made only from the roots of the moss, but if you’re on a budget you can use the greens as well, if you haven’t already served them as salad.


2 clawfuls of moss-root

½ mouthful of worm-juice

¼ mouthful of the chef’s saliva per peatball


The process is fairly simple, though the chef should be certain to wash his claws and brush his teeth before beginning. First put the moss-root and worm-juice into a clean bowl, and mash the roots to the bottom. Let the mixture sit for a minute so that the roots soak up as much liquid as possible, then scoop out about ¼ to ½ a clawful of root and roll it into a ball, manually adding saliva as necessary. When the mixture is gooey enough to hold a ball shape, crush it together as hard as possible and roll it into a kiln while it is still compressed. It may decompress a little while baking, but don’t let it stay in the heat for more than 20 seconds or it may ignite and turn into an ash-ball. Once you get it out, roll it right onto your wormgetti, add a drop of worm-juice or a dash of salt and crushed bug to taste and your meal is ready to serve!


Night-crawler Pudding

Every mole knows that night crawlers are the fattest, sweetest, and most protein rich worms out there, but some children dislike the overzealous and futile escape attempts that night-crawlers always seem to make from your mouth. Night-crawler pudding is easy to make, delicious, and although the adult palette will likely prefer live night-crawlers, Night-crawler pudding is a wonderful alternative to dead night-crawlers that the whole family can enjoy!

5 parts night-crawlers

1 part water

1 part HartLife Mole-grade protein powder

1 part chef’s saliva


First, mash the night-crawlers before starting to bring the water to a boil. A master dessert chef will do this in his own mouth in lieu of measuring the saliva, in order to save time while boiling the water. When a boil is reached, first add the protein powder and stir until dissolved. Then add night-crawlers and saliva, stir vigorously, lower heat and reduce to about 2/3 original volume. At this point stop stirring and turn the heat back to high for 1-10 minutes (variable by volume) and let it reduce a little more (experts will say 10%). Then remove from the heat and pour into your heart-shaped HartLife pudding mold, and let cool over 6-12 hours. Best served chilled.

In The Beginning Part 2: The Patch Job

Jim McDoniel: Writer

Upon adding me to the ranks, Clayton began to fill me in on what they were up to: a post apocalyptic radio play called Our Fair City. The world was frozen, people lived underground, and a handful of characters had already been tossed around from Lucky Strike, the lightning rigger to Neal Henderson the…er… “word I don’t say that means manure” cowboy [EDITOR’S NOTE: Check out Episode 4: S.O.L. for a few more choice euphemisms on the subject]. Then, it came time to go out on the floor. Clayton said he’d fill me in later and I went off to work ushering people into the world of English Boy Wizard.

Essentially, I wanted to put my own stamp on the world. I was fortunate in that, at this point, we really didn’t have anything resembling a plot [EDITOR’S NOTE: This remained true for a alarmingly long period of time]. So unfettered by the limitations brought about by cohesive storytelling, my brain went to work filling in the gaps of world.
My mind quickly took hold of the city’s undergrounded-ness. We had people powering above and people doing jobs within, but we had no one digging. “So how does the city grow?” I asked myself. This being sci-fi, there was only one answer: molepeople.
To be fair, molepeople didn’t just pop out of thin air and appear fully formed in my head while on a train. I am not the author of English Boy Wizard. For years, I had been writing pieces for my own amusement under a mad scientist alter ego and it just so happens I had finished an essay in which I used molepeople to solve a current political conundrum. One could say, I had molepeople on the brain. So when it came to digging the tunnels of Our Fair City, who else could do it, but molepeople.
Well, antpeople.
Molepeople or antpeople. Antpeople or molepeople. I went back and forth on which I liked better. I mean the molepeople were molepeople, but antpeople were antpeople. I decided to put off deciding for a bit. The point was I had my in, because who else could dig the tunnels of Our Fair City except mole(ant)people.
Well, people actually.
You see, as Clayton went more in depth about the world a few hours later, he explained that tunnels were dug by people in great big steam-punky machines. Think the powerloaders from Aliens or a Gundam Wing, if you know what that is. Yeah, things like that. I believe they all had Mohawks and dyed hair to delineate themselves as diggers and their machines were fixed by wrenches, or mechanics, which was what one main character wanted to be.
I was…crushed. This is what happens when I plot too early. I believe my exact thoughts were “Shashum frashum…not as good as my idea…mumble grumble.” Sure, I had a few other ideas, but none were as cool or iconic as molepeople or antpeople. And none inspired me near as much. I couldn’t just abandon it.
I decided to plow ahead with the idea I had started with. To give myself some space, I decided that if it came up, the moles/ants would be dealing with problems too menial for the diggers. Not building tunnels per se, but doing small things: filling potholes and fixing wall holes. Patch jobs, if you will [EDITOR’S NOTE: This clearly wasn’t a problem: you’ll notice that the Molepeople have become a cornerstone of the Our Fair City world].
Having decided only molepeople could be made to do the tedious, little things, I reluctantly said goodbye to the antpeople. I didn’t wanna though. I liked the idea. I liked the image. I really, really wanted them both. “Well, why the hell not?” I asked myself, “This isn’t real life.”
But how to fit them in?
“What if the molepeople don’t believe in the antpeople?” chimed in the part of my brain that deals in irony.
“And what if the two molepeople are in love?” suggested the part of me that’s a great big Gilmore Girl loving softie.
“And what if the antpeople aren’t actually seen, but we have a detective character make a bunch of ant jokes to make it clear they exist?” added the part of me that loves Sherlock Holmes.
“Only if I can partially name him after my dad,” said a part of me that loves naming characters after my dad.
In a few days, I took all of these parts of me, sat down at a computer, played some World of Warcraft until I got bored and then wrote a script [EDITOR’S NOTE: You may be unsuprised to learn that much of Our Fair City has been dreamed up in between games of the Battlestar Gallactica Board game, Arkham Horror, Citadels, Star Trek Online, and various other pastimes.  We also play a particularly mixed game of Ultimate Frisbee].
I showed this script to Clayton. He mumbled something that I think went like this “Shashum frashum…the diggers…mumble grumble…but this is good too I guess.” Thus, “The Patch Job” was born.