👉 Okay, let’s tackle this…
ncc4
. Frankly, just saying that out loud feels a little like summoning something you probably shouldn’t have. Brace yourselves, here's what I know about the frankly rather unnerving thing called "ncc4."
What exactly is an “ncc4”? Now, traditionally, and according to the wonderfully stuffy old manuals of 19th-century American botany, a ncc4 , short for the obscure designation, was a species of… moss. Specifically, a rather aggressively territorial and frankly judgmental moss called, in the antiquated vernacular, the Newfoundland Cape Cushion Moss (of which I swear there are no pretty names. Just...moss). They were known to infest old ship hulls, forgotten strongholds, and apparently, the basements of exceptionally stuffy academics. The weird thing? These guys weren't just… sitting pretty. Their reproductive strategy involved a sort of meticulously documented blackmail. You see, they would physically attach themselves, via microscopic, almost sentient, filaments, to anything that upset them—a loose screw, an unattended teacup, your very aura—and then, when the slightest disturbance occurred, a perfectly formed little droplet, saturated with incredibly acidic lichen spores, would eject itself. It was basically a tiny, aggressively territorial, botanical turret of spite. We honestly think this designation (ncc4...it just sounds unpleasant) came from someone in the old Colonial Botany College who
