Friday, March 23, 2018

Minuet is Beaten Senseless

The Yellow Rose Tavern was a huge three and a half storey wattle and daub house that had only been standing for three years, just down the street from Fates' Hospital for the Sick and the Silver Dragon. Its upper storeys overhung the first floor nearly to the middle of the alleys on all sides. Minuet and Bethan rented a long room at the top under the roof in front, which opened onto a balcony far above the street between two great crucks under the gable, and which also peeped out from a tiny window under a thick blanket of thatch in the roof itself. They always ate breakfast and supper downstairs, but they usually ate their dinner at the Silver Dragon, since it was next to the hospital.
"So what was the reason Sergeant Bernard brought us down here to the inn?" said Bethan as she addressed her collards with bread and knife. "I didn't quite catch what he was saying."
"He didn't say much," said Minuet. "I guess that there was some sort of uproar at the Silver Dragon right after we left, yesterday. He thought we'd be safer down here."
"Well, where'd he go?"
"He said he'd be right outside if we needed him," said Minuet as she looked out across the tables under the low rows of timbers in the ceiling. "Is this all they're bringing out for us to eat?"
"Probably. There do be pieces of ham in it. It's just the taverner and his wife. Both cooks fled the plague, this morning."
"I wondered why she was the one waiting on us," said Minuet as she pressed a wad of collards onto her bread. "In here, you'd hardly think there was a plague. Everybody's just eating peacefully."
"They do be, but I wouldn't be surprised if the taverner's wife is more talkative when things are normal. She hardly spoke. I'd allow that she's a little afraid of every soul who walks in here. It's a wonder they haven't shooed us out and flown the coop."
"No doubt..."
Across the room, the front door slammed shut. "There's the witch!" shouted the woman who stepped inside, silencing everyone at the tables. Minuet dropped her bread onto her plate and turned about on her chair in alarm.
"Martha please!" said the man coming in on her heels. "You've had too much to drink. Please think! She's been wonderful to the kids..."
"You doubt me, Sammy boy?" she cried, wheeling 'round and planting her feet. "I saw what I saw..."
"We all saw the pardoner and the flax haired wench..." he said as he grabbed her wrist.
Martha immediately yanked out of his grasp. "Then you're blind as well as thick!" she shouted, nearly stumbling as she forced her way between the tables. "Had ye seen past your nose, you'd 'ave seen it was that wizard in league with the very Elf devils who caused the plague in the first place. It was none other than Wizard Razzmorten himself
and his witch daughter, Ugleeuh!" She staggered back a step with a glance about at her
audience of wide-eyed diners. "No wonder he came to town as a pardoner. He knew
they'd be run out if people recognized him." Suddenly she took a tramp toward Minuet.
"In fact, maybe it's time something was done about that entire family. Everyone knows
they practice the dark arts."
Minuet shot to her feet. "Shame on you!" she shouted. "If it weren't for my father, the queen herself
would be dead this minute! Scores of people have caught the plague and are alive right now because of him...!"
"Yea!" she barked, peppering Minuet's face with flecks of spit. "Like all the pointy eared foreigners who caused it!"
"Foreigners! How can you say such a thing! They were here a thousand years ago, before there ever was a Niarg..."
"A threat to us the whole time , Missy!" cried Martha, smiling with her hateful piggy eyes as an angry drone stirred through the diners.
"A threat?" cried Minuet, turning to the crowd. "How many of you are alive today because you were healed by the Elves? How many of you would have died in childbirth
had it not been for them? How is it wrong to keep them alive alongside us?"
Bethan could see that the grumbling diners were not making kind replies. She saw her moment at once and quietly slipped out to summon Sergeant Bernard.
"And as for you, Martha Benton," said Minuet, "how come you call me a witch when only yesterday you said I was like unto an angel?"
"I didn't know the truth!" she shouted for all to hear. "You held me under an enchantment and used your dark magicks on my dear children. For all we know, you've left us changlings under your spell!"
"That's a lie, Martha! I used no magicks! Your children are still your children. And they're going to live a long life, too, thanks to my father's drops which I've been giving them every four hours!"
"Yea? And we'd never have let you get away with that, had we only known!"
Minuet was stunned, standing there alone. "I've no time for this," she stammered, turning to leave as diners began pushing back their chairs throughout the room. "We've got drops to give and bedpans to haul. Come on, Bethan..."
"So where's your hired woman, witch?" shouted Martha, blocking Minuet's escape as the entire dining room crowded around. "Could it be that we're onto the truth and she didn't want to hang alongside you for your sorceries?"
"If I were a witch," cried Minuet, standing her ground before the huge woman, "why have I not struck you down with a curse by now?"
Martha dropped her jaw at this and grabbed herself by the throat to sit down on the floor with a heavy plump and topple onto her side like a sack of corn. The crowd stepped back with wide-eyed gasps.
"Good show Martha!" cried Minuet. "But the only thing wrong with you is your vicious demeanor!"
"You killed my wife!" shouted Sam, falling to his knees beside her as shouts of "Rope! Rope!" erupted from the crowd.
"She's no more dead than I am!" cried Minuet.
"How do we know you're alive?" shouted Sam.
"Yea!" hollered someone. "Hang her and burn her!"
"Rope! Rope! Rope!" chanted the crowd, as two huge men grabbed her and threw her against the wall to pummel her face and break her wrist, causing her to black out and fall to the floor, where they began kicking her at once.
"Stop!" bellowed Sergeant Bernard as he flung open the door, sword drawn.
Bethan came in right on his heels, elbowing her way through the crowd in a fury. "My baby girl!" she shrieked as she grabbed one of the kicking men by the hair on the back of his head, yanking him off balance onto the floor.
"Why you old sow!" cried the other man as he wheeled and kicked Bethan in the thigh, knocking her onto the floor.
"My baby!" she cried as she flew to her feet to rip open his belly with her dirk0
The man on the floor rose to his knees, drawing his sword in time for Bernard to take off his head with a whistling swing of his saber.
By now the room had fallen to a hush as Minuet and Bethan's other four bodyguards entered with swords drawn, followed by a dozen other royal guardsmen. Bethan knelt over Minuet, sobbing and smoothing her hair from her face.
"Seize that man trying to hide the rope!" shouted Bernard.
There was a brief scuffle as murmurs began stirring.
"Silence!" roared Bernard, punctuating the quiet which followed with the sound of his heels on the boards of the floor as he paced. "I am placing under arrest every one of you on this side of the room, from the man with the rope, clean to the wall, except for
Mistress Dewin and Bethan..."
"Why not the witch?" said Sam as he knelt by Martha. "If she's not killed my wife, she at least has a spell on her."
Bernard motioned to one of the guardsmen with a nod and whispered something in his ear. "We will hold you in the castle jail until you appear before the King's Bench," he said, continuing his speech as the guardsman slipped outside.
"What about the witch?" cried Sam as the guardsman returned with a hunting crop and handed it to Bernard.
Bernard made no reply as he took the crop and walked calmly over to Martha, smacking VA184her rump with a furious whistling crack, causing her to jerk away with a yodeling shriek, tumbling up onto her knees wide eyed as she dearly held her behind. "I'm right glad to see that Good_Sister,_Bad_Sis_Cover_for_Kindleyou'll be awake for your hearing, dear," he said as he handed the hunting crop back to the guardsman.
(Click on book title or book image to download  from Amazon)

Carol Marrs Phipps & Tom Phipps

Wednesday, March 21, 2018

Herio Comes to Niarg

Herio awoke to the sound of busy wee toenails scuffling along a corky ridge of bark overhead as a tiny chickadee searched for hibernating grubs. The cloudless dawn sky above was already turning blue. At the sound of a metallic clink from a link of his shackles, the bird chipped and flitted away. He jerked, giving a furious scratch at the fleas which infested the tattered unicorn blanket which Sergeant Dunvel had resentfully shoved at him. It was still far too cold to do without it. Jays called.
"Wake up cachu ci!" barked Dunvel as he kicked him in the ribs hard enough to knock the wind out of him.
He cried out in pain as he struggled to get his breath. He sat up, drawing his shackles tight around the trunk of the small maple he had straddled all night.
At once, Dunvel had a knife at his throat. "There, cachu ci," he said, tossing the keys into the leaves by his shackles. "Undo 'em. And if ye do anything quick at all, I'll haul your stinkin' red head to Niarg in a bag."
Herio stretched out his arms, mindful of the blade at his Adam's apple. He had to try several times to unlock the shackles, since his hands were trembling convulsively and Dunvel simply refused to let him lean forward. The blade stank fiercely of raw egg and foul spit. Wave after fff9888wave of white-hot fear surged through him as he fumbled. He could picture his own throat being cut. He could picture himself somehow grappling away the knife and running Dunvel through. Somehow he would manage to stay alive because someday he would get Dunvel for this, after he got Brutus for killing his little brother.
At last he was astride his unicorn, a small dappled cyflymder-DĂșlish cross. The thought of spurring it and dashing away through the timber had died the moment he saw how both mounts were already tethered together. He watched Dunvel champing open-mouthed at the last of the travel rations like some kind of dog. His stomach gnawed and he looked away.
"Hey cachu ci!" barked Dunvel. "Want some? Hey! Don't you look away! Do you want some?"
Herio looked but made no reply.
"You'd better answer me 'fore I come over there an' make you. Are you hungry?"
"Herio nodded ever so slightly.
"Well, ye ain't gettin' any 'cause this is the last, last little bit," he said with beady-eyed merriment as he came up close to chew. He wiped his hands first on his breeches and then in the leaves, as he belched loud enough for it to echo amongst the trees. He began untying reins. "We'll reach Castle Niarg in less than an hour, I'd reckon," he said with a grunt, as he threw his leg over his ponderous ceffyl arfog unicorn. "Now, ye'd best be rememberin' what the captain said, or else a lot more of your stinkin' Ash Forkers are goin' 'o swing." He roared with laughter and smacked Herio's unicorn on the rump, making it rear and roll its eyes before spurring his own mount off through the leaves.
Herio stared straight ahead, tears streaming down his cheeks, watching his unicorn's ears turn this way and that, as Dunvel went to great lengths to describe how his little red-haired brother had kicked and kicked and turned blue as he died. At last the castle loomed before them, ending the ordeal.
Dunvel smoothed and straightened his black sash with its embroidered blood red hourglass and grinned a toothy grin as they rode up to the gate. "You remember why you're here, cachu ci," he said.
Herio kept his eyes forward and gave a curt nod only to show that he had heard.
"Halt, right there!" hollered the guard from the embrasure above the portcullis. 
"Ha," thought Herio at the sight of the look which flickered across Dunvel's face, though not a twitch of expression managed to surface on his own.
"What business has one bearing an escutcheon such as yours doing here, sir?" echoed the guard.
"We have an urgent message for your king!" hollered Dunvel.
"Urgent? And who might this urgent message be from?"
"Are you blind, man?" cried Dunvel. "It ought to be obvious!"
"We are right well credited by this tottering sack of hog dung, wearing the black sash and red hourglass of sorcery and treachery, if by the mere sight of him he fancies that we can read his mind!" called out Captain Bernard as he stepped beside the guard. "Unfortunately, since he's so frightfully ugly that it would be impossible to read his mind, we must assume that his bloated head merely makes him forget his place in a country not his own! So be it! I'll let His Majesty know at once! In the meantime, though, you'd best stay exactly where you are, since I've ordered a score of long bowmen to loose arrows if they see you move at all!"

 Ch. 47, Stone Heart

Carol Marrs Phipps & Tom Phipps

Friday, March 16, 2018

Demonica and Ugleeuh Have Supper by the Sea


img_08701Demonica's keep had two great towers at opposite ends of the front wall of the castle proper. One of them housed Razzorbauch's great library. The other one served as her private lookout over the vast Orin Ocean to the far off horizons in three directions. In good weather she was fond of having supper on its uppermost storey under a tile roof held
aloft by open Gothic arches on all sides. On this particular evening, she and Ugleeuh sat
across from each other in their crimson dresses, listening to the booming of the surf as the breeze ran ripples along the skirt of their linen tablecloth. She forked two more steaming slices of duck roast onto her plate of sour cabbage from the duck's cavity and looked up at Ugleeuh. "Is something the matter, dear?" she said as she licked her fingertips.
"How do you eat like that after...?" said Ugleeuh, waving aside her own comment with a shake of her head. "Oh, never mind."
"You don't find that a good torture session increases your appetite?"
"Well, Minuet and Bethan were the one who always dressed the chickens..."
"Well. You do look right peaked, now that you call my attention to it, dear. Do Minuet and Bethan lose their appetites for chicken on the days they cut up fryers?"
"Well no..."
stock-footage-downward-pan-of-arches-over-mediterranean"Of course not. They've learnt that what's in the skillet is important enough that gory feathers are of no consequence at all. And the blood on a torture table doesn't matter, either. What counts is that heady sense of power. Madog was on his way to see to your undoing. Now Leeuh, surely you're not about to tell me that the mess in the dungeon overshadowed the orchestration of his deserving end, are you?"
"No Mother," she said with an especially pale swallow. "I rather enjoyed myself. It's quite something how long he lasted..."
"And that's the entertaining part," she said with a happy wave of her knife. "What good would it be if he died first thing?"
"I did enjoy myself, Mother," she said as she picked up her bread to butter. "Could you pass the duck? I'd like some cabbage and some more bird."
Stone_Heart_Cover_for_Kindle"Splendid," she said, picking up the platter. "I believe your appetite is better already."
"Oh it is. And I did have fun. But what does torture have to do with sorcery?"
"Oh, not so much with sorcery as it has to do with power. One must enjoy power in order to wield it."
"So now that we're relaxed and powerful, when will you teach me to be a sorceress?"
"Well sorcery does include power," said Demonica as she spread some cabbage onto her bread. "But no more today, dear. Let's just talk and get to know each other."
"Fine. What do you want to know?"
"Well, what did Princess Branwen do to make you go to all that trouble to get rid of her?"
Ugleeuh laughed, rocking back and forth to swallow. "Not a thing," she said. "She was just Ugleeuh_rub_880683_c_medieval_scarlett_red_hooded_dress_costume_adult_a

in the way."
"Of what?"
"She was betrothed to Prince Hebraun."
"So I've my own plans for Hebraun, if you must," said Ugleeuh with a sullen toss of her raven mane.
"Why you look vexed. I'm only curious about you."
"Yea? Well it would be easier to take, had you any curiosity about me while I was growing up," she said, glaring as she wiped her mouth. "So here you be after skipping my life entirely up to now, pushing at me for a cozy little chat. My appetite's gone. I'm going to bed." And with that, she threw her napkin onto her plate and stood up.
"Touchy, are we?" said Demonica as Ugleeuh reached the stairs.
Ugleeuh slowed as her back stiffened, taking the first step down.
In Chapter 17 of Good Sister, Bad Sister, Demonica takes Ugleeuh to see Madog, the one who delivered the cat to Princess Branwen. It quickly becomes clear that not only did Ugleeuh murder Princess Branwen of Far, she also caused the outbreak of the plague.

Carol Marrs Phipps & Tom Phipps

Wednesday, March 14, 2018

Ugleeuh Hates Hubba Hubba

"Happy birthday!" cried Wizard Razzmorten with a grand whirl of his cape, leaving a round wooden box with a gawking baby parrot sitting on the board by the cake.
Ugleeuh 3"What is that thing, Father?"
"Why a popinjay, dear. They're almost impossible to come by..."
"It's all pinfeathers. You surely don't intend for it to actually be my gift, do you?"
"Well it's right young, Leeuh," he said. "When you start with them at that age, they can actually be talking to you before they're quite a year old."
"Not if I drown it first..."
"Lee-Lee!" cried her sister. "You don't mean that! What an awful way to treat your Father..."
"Oh go on! He surely knows better. Here I am, still waiting for you to serve me, and he runs up and plops down this dirty box full of muslin, fowl and green poop, right where I was expecting my cake. And by the way, dearest Minuet, just how long are you going to stand there with my saucer in your hand? It is my birthday, don't you know. And since that thing in the box is my birthday gift, I certainly get to drown it."
"Don't you dare!" said Minuet. "I'll take it if you don't want it..."
"Please!" said Razzmorten, throwing up his hands. "Let's you and I take the morning tomorrow and find you something special in the market, or if you know of something better just..."
Ugleeuh wasn't listening. "You can have the stinking popinjay, Minuet, if you give me my cake before it slides off the saucer."
"You mean it?"
"Sure sister dear. The cake now, and it's yours, but you'll still owe me."
Ugleeuh came to Razzmorten's door and opened it. A pungent smell of old paper whirled through the room on a rush of air from the window, bright with yellow maple leaves. "Oh, he's busy with his stupid still," she said. She skipped down the hallway to Minuet's room and peered in. "No Minny-Min," she said, clasping her hands together. "She's off somewhere, busy at being just too, too." She stopped short at the sight of Hubba Hubba on his perch by the bed. "But the stinking popinjay's sure here."
Hubba Hubba went skinny as she crossed the room.
"Hold still, popinjay," she said as she crept up to the perch. "It's high time we drowned you, don't you think?"
He stood upright with wide orange eyes, leaning back away from her as she drew near. The magna10-5-99moment she grabbed for him, he bit the web of her hand and flew away into the hallway, screaming: "Minuet! Minuet! Minuet!"
"I'm not done with you, stinker!" shouted Ugleeuh as she grabbed her bleeding hand. "How about spending eternity as a crow?"
Suddenly Minuet stepped into the doorway, out of breath.
"Minny-Min!" cried Ugleeuh, as if she'd just stepped out of a coach. "I'm home!"
Minuet stood inside the doorway catching her breath, as a whir of wings flew 'round the corner from the hallway. She held up her finger to collect the landing flurry of feathers without taking her eyes off Ugleeuh.
"Minuet!" shrieked Hubba Hubba between pants. "Bad bear witch!"
"Well you certainly excited Hubba Hubba, Leeuh," said Minuet. "What happened? Did Uncle Razzorbauch disappoint you, or did you disappoint him?"
"Bad!" growled Hubba Hubba.
"No, no sweetness," said Ugleeuh with a pampered tone. "You disappoint me. You failed as big sister. I've tried and tried so hard as little sister, but you're just too, too."
"Bad witch!" growled Hubba Hubba. 
"Do you really expect a warm welcome after the way you left? You didn't even tell Father."
"Right!" she scoffed as she brushed passed Minuet on her way to the door. "As if I owed him. He's hardly been a father. What would he care? Always trying to make me to fit the goody-goody mold, just like big sister. He's the one who owes me."


Carol Marrs Phipps & Tom Phipps

Monday, March 12, 2018

People Have the Right to Know What They're Breathing


Posted below is a recent letter I wrote to my congressmen:

Dear Senator Largesse:
For years, big chemical outfits such as Monsanto have paid for a substantial amount of the research at the University of Illinois and other land grant colleges. As a result, the farmers in this area have almost entirely abandoned conventional tillage for no-till farming. This means that farmers are using sprays instead of controlling weeds and pests by mechanical means such as disking and cultivating.
The problem with this is that pests and weeds have a high rate of reproduction and consequently a high probability of adaptive mutation. That is, they quickly develop 16079-a-man-spraying-a-pesticide-on-some-plants-in-his-garden-pvresistance to the sprays, requiring the farmers to use ever greater quantities of spray to keep the weeds and pests under control. Eventually sprays will cease to be effective against the new resistant strains of weeds and pests, but by that time, spray use will have increased to levels disastrous to the environment and human health.
Years ago, when I was getting my degrees in botany and zoology, I was quite taken by how very similar human cell machinery was to that of all other organisms. Our cells' structure and chemistry are not very different from those of agricultural pests and weeds.
Already, we have resistant strains appearing, such as a resistant pigweed in beans, and spray use is increasing astronomically. So to hide this from the public, someone has allowed the chemical companies to sell sprays without the distinctive safety odor which has until now warned people that they were breathing something toxic. Now, the public no longer has a choice about whether they have to breath toxic fumes. The sprays are odorless and being sprayed with impunity.
After a career of teaching, my wife and I came back home to the farm I grew up on, PesticideSprayerlooking forward to enjoying being out of doors. And up until now, if we got a whiff of spray, we simply avoided it. This year, the bean fields have been inundated with odorless spray. Ditches everywhere have been turned brown with spray instead of being mowed. And before we know it, we find ourselves breathing the sprays long enough to be caught up in the throes of asthma attacks and convulsive coughing seizures and migraine after migraine. After waiting all year for warm weather, we now can not ride our tandem bicycle without getting migraines, strangling and chest pains. We have been forced to give up riding our bike, and now we scarcely dare to go outdoors.
This has to stop! It is bad enough to base a new agriculture on a toxic and unsustainable chemistry in the first place, but it is utter insanity to allow greedy chemical companies to take away people's right to avoid exposure to their poisons. Please, PLEASE do something to make it illegal to sell or to apply odorless pesticides, herbicides and fungicides. Please legislate it to be mandatory for all sprays to have a vile and easily recognized safety scent in order to allow their use.

Thank you for your time,
Tom Phipps
Please feel free to copy and use this letter to send to your Congressmen.

Friday, March 9, 2018

Ugleeuh Loves Her Bloated Hubba Hubba

Lukus swelled up with a rejoinder, but dropped it at the sight of ol' Ma'am returning with an Scan10067armload of blankets. On her shoulder perched a huge smug crow. "What a conceited fowl," he thought.
"Here's my dearest," she said grandly. “His name is Hubba Hubba and he is such a darling, but I'm afraid he enjoys eating more than he does flying. He's just a bit too plump to get off the ground these days..."
“Yea," said Hubba Hubba with pompous arrogance. "Time to eat." 
Rose bolted upright, wide eyed. “It talks!” she said, flinging back her covers. “I thought only parrots could do that, and not even all of them.”
Ugleeuh and Hubba Hubba turned to glare at her with one icy accord, reminding her so much of a pair of glaciers, that without thinking she pulled her blankets back over her legs.
“My name is Hubba Hubba,” he said with a flash of his eyes, as he straightened his heft beneath his bristling mantle of feathers. "I am not a thing. Do not refer to me as 'It!'” 
Ugleeuh swelled up with a hiss through her nose to glower down at Rose.
Rose shrank back into her bed roll.
“I don’t like parrots," she snarled. "I would never have one, and I prefer not to discuss the vile creatures. Crows, particularly this one, have far greater command of language than any parrot. And from now on, if either of you talks about or speaks to my dearest, you'll call him Hubba Hubba. Is that perfectly clear?”
“So," said Hubba Hubba with a rasp like a rusty hinge as he leveled a derisive squint. "Just how much of the time which you just spent outside was actually taken up by deciding if your unicorns were indeed gone? At this rate, I’ll be lucky to get into the air before Ugleeuh gets back. Why, she might not even see me up there and crash into me. Chaos and mayhem. I’d be dead and you two would be to blame. She'd never get over it. She'd never forgive you. Never let you go if she even let you live.”
“Don’t you dare threaten us with that old sow witch of yours, Lard Ball!” shouted Lukus, lunging at him with a stamp. “What I want to know is what the old bat's done with our unicorns. She has no right to take them! She could hang for it, don't you know. Where are they? She has no...”
“Careful there snot,” he said as he leant forward, following Lukus's movements minutely. “You’re repeating yourself. And I'd also advise you to be cautious about how you speak to me and how you treat me, because Ugleeuh will hear of it. In fact, she's told me to give her a complete report of your entire behavior upon her return, and I must say that it's not very favorable, so far.”

“Good," she said. "Then I suppose we have no choice for our next step but to hitch up the sparrows.” She shuddered as she looked about and found them, shackled to their iron balls, pecking at crumbs on the floor. “So then, Hubba Hubba, just how does one wrangle venomous little birds into harnesses and make them do your bidding without getting poisoned in the process?”
He made no reply, but Rose's comment stopped all three sparrows at once. They gazed up at her, keenly absorbed in what she was up to. He leant forward, clacked his beak and leered at them, but the grumpy gesture caused them to break out in a titter. He ruffled up with a heavy shake and hoisted himself into an aloof posture.                   
Rose turned to Lukus. He shrugged, making it quite clear that he knew no more about the matter than she.
“Well,” said Hubba Hubba from under a half opened eye, “they might not be quite as deadly as Ugleeuh led you to believe.”
“Just how much risk is there to handling them?” said Rose.
“Practically none,” he said, almost meekly.
“Practically!” yelped Lukus. “What does that mean? Either the birds are dangerous or they aren't, Tubbo!”
"Name calling is very childish and rude," said Hubba Hubba as he drew himself up on his perch, obviously stung by Lukus’s taunts about his corpulence. "It was not I, dear impetuous one, who told you that tale about the slaves, you know.”
"No, but you're the one who's refused to be clear about it, yet."
“Lukus! None of this is getting us anywhere,” said Rose. “Hubba Hubba, are the sparrows poisonous or not?” 
"Not in the least," he sighed. "Chirp, Tweet and Squeak merely have small minds."

Carol Marrs Phipps & Tom Phipps