Finnius

Part 7: dot dot dot- Desert- Question Mark I spent the next day or so drifting in and out of consciousness, and occasionally conversing with Peanut and Pekkle. Peanut, as it turned out was a merchant queen, and had come across my battered and beaten body on her way home from making a killing in Shiwa. Pekkle had pleaded for help, and lucky for me Peanut was a kind and generous soul. As for the red eyes, they were apparently just red eyes. She said it was "a family thing." As for where home was... When I did eventually regain the use of my higher motor skills, after about a week, Pekkle and Peanut took me out for a walk. Peanut replaced my normal non-descript robes with finely tailored black and blue silk. I protested, as I have never been a fan of exorbitantly expensive apparel. She explained that it was either this, or parade around naked. I dressed up. The interior of the O'Harpy family manor is a little hard to explain. Depending on where you look, this place is either an elegant and tasteful home, or a gaudy eyesore that needs to be condemned. I felt it best not to comment on this to Peanut, as many of the wall hangings included large pointy objects. The exterior, on the other hand, is much more consistent, with large trees dominating the scenery, interspersed with fountains and bird baths. If you ever get the chance to visit this place, I'm sure that you will agree it is one of the most lovely pieces of architecture in the whole of Terra. Upon leaving the O'Harpy grounds, we found ourselves in a fairly large city square, dominated by a circle of stone in the center, raised about two feet off the ground and suspended by... nothing. There were many people milling about, as well as some things that were not quite people. I counted at least one large scaled object. Peanut noticed me staring and politely tapped me on the shoulder. "Try not to make eye contact with that one, OK?" "Hmm... Wha?" "He's not such a bad sort, but let's just say that it's a good thing you don't have much by the way of earthly possessions." "Umm... yeah." Pekkle, in the meantime had run up to the big stone circle and seated herself on it. The circle immediately began spinning around. "Hey, um, Peanut? Should she be doing that?" "Oh, don't worry about it, that's what it's there for! Well, that and the one other thing, but you don't need to worry about that right now. Let's just let her play here for a while, and I'll show you around. It's perfectly safe." And so we left Pekkle to her spinning joy and made our way across the square. Peanut showed me all the 'important' places in this city, such as the dress shop, and the flower arranger's, and the bakery, and, of course, the bank. Eventually, we meandered out towards the city gates. I noticed a good bit of dust on the horizon, and asked Peanut what it was. "Oh, that's just the desert." "... desert?" "Yeah, there's a desert out that way, it goes on for days. Actually, we had to cross it to get in here, but you were kind of knocked out at the time. It's really a very pretty place." "Umm... yeah, about that... This may be kind of rude of me, but... you never really told me where here is Peanut. You think you could maybe enlighten me?" "Well, if you go north by northeast of Shiwa, for about two days, you'll come to the desert... then you go a few more days east and you come here." "Errr... Ok, I get that, but where is here? Doesn't this place have a name?" "Not exactly. Mostly we just call it the Conservatory." "That's... a little cumbersome." "You'll get used to it."

Part 6: The Longest Thirty Seconds of My Life "Wakey-wakey little man..." Cold water hit me in the face and I started awake. I could feel a blunt pain in my torso, and my left eye seemed to be swollen shut. Over me stood a woman with black hair and... "gu-gah!" red eyes. That 'gu-gah!,' by the way, was my introduction to said woman. I mention this because it is quite possibly the least eloquent thing I have ever said upon waking up from a near-death experience. And sad to say, I've had my share of those. In any case, I sat up to get my bearings, and immediately went back down, as I noticed I was a little bit naked. Also, there was the searing pain. But mainly I went down because of the naked thing. "... err... where's my clothes?" Ok, so 'gu-gah!' is the second least eloquent thing I've ever said upon waking up from a near-death experience. "Don't you worry about that, my little blue friend. You're still not well enough to be moving around yet. Just get some rest for now. Are you hungry?" Have you ever noticed that your stomach never growls until someone asks you if you're hungry? "I'll take that as a yes," she grinned, as she walked out the door. Being alone for a moment I checked out my surroundings. I was in a fairly posh room; with white and black silk dominating the decor. The floors and door were made of smooth-grain oak, and there was a nice big window with a view of some busy city square. I could also glimpse a good-sized tree in the middle of said square. Pekkle was nowhere to be noticed, for which I was glad, considering my state of undress. I was not, however, glad to notice that my clothes were also missing. It was at this point that my assumed rescuer returned with a large piece of bread. She walked over to the bed where I was stationed and handed it to me. I immediately began 'being smooth.' "mmff... *hey, there wasch a liddle grrl wif me, didya hapfeb to see her?" I asked through a mouthful of rye. "Oh, you must mean Pekkle. Yes, she's here as well... oh, I'm so rude! I haven't even introduced myself yet! My name is Peanut... Peanut O'Harpy." Cue the ominous music.

As I do not wish to spam, responses in some entertaining form: Nyyark's a sound that tickles my fabulous, Just don't ask me to try and explain that, Though I will give thanks to Degenero Angelus, And give Appy a big friendly back-pat. Ayshela, your answer is covered in scales, Peredhil, please call off the ninjas! Ozy, your tee-hee could save Northern Wales, From a rock band called Raving Tongue Twingers! I'm sorry that last line made little sense, As well as Sal's constant IM-tagging, Arwen, I'd thank you in candy and mints, But it looks like my Internet's lagging. -------------------------------------------- Seriously, thanks for the praise. Totally unnecessary.

May your birthday be as free of ninjas as... ... A thing that has no ninjas in it. ... I guess... Nuts, that didn't make any sense. Happy birthday then.

The end of the month heralds candy and tricks, With Pennites regaled in finest for foolin' in, And Pered dressed as the Big Pointy Stick, With a little blue mage in drag as Cerulean! It's not that big a shock to see Canid in green, But there's quite a hubub when a big burly fella, Is wandering around for all to be seen, Dressed up just like Ayshela... Tzimfemme's a jaybird, but what else is new? Minta's a bounding nimball- Rosemary sighs and tries to eschew, This sardonical holiday ribald. Salinye's quite the fox in a hostel, And Gyr is dashing in black, But Wyvern's costume'll cost ya'- Five geld to see, plus tax! Orlan's a treant, Ozy's invisible, Gwaihir's the picture of Zool, While Zool's on an infintissimal, Word creating nonsense spool! The End! Please don't shoot me.

Part 5: Waking Up It started only a week after we had left Shiwa. I was sorry to leave behind the only steady paycheck I'd had in recent memory, but otherwise our leave-taking was surprisingly easy. Neither of us had accumulated much by way of possesions, and there was no one to say goodbye to... It only took one week to prove the Fortune Teller right. I remember that it was unusually cold. My breath as I set up camp steamed and smoked around me. Pekkle found this effect pretty and puffed out her cheeks so that she could exhale for longer periods. It looked very silly. When we settled down for the night we huddled together for warmth, despite the sizable campfire. Which is why I bolted upright holding my ears when Pekkle started screaming. It wasn't the short bursts of sound that signal a nightmare, but one long, continuous wail. There was obviously something wrong here. I tried shaking her, I tried talking to her, I tried yelling at her, nothing worked. It occured to me that if she didn't stop soon, Pekkle would pass out. I clapped my hand over her mouth and held it shut. After a moment, she stopped struggling and opened her eyes. They were bloodshot and red, swollen like a sick person's. There was blood leaking from the corners. My heart was trying to burst out of my ribcage as I patted the blood away. Pekkle began sobbing and babbling incoherently. I could only make out one word out of ten. I held Pekkle and rocked her back to sleep. I, on the other hand, stayed up and shaken the rest of the night. --------------------------------- The next morning, Pekkle got up and packed, ate breakfast, and generally acted like nothing had happened. I didn't know if this was because she didn't remember what had happened or if she just didn't want to talk about it. I couldn't see how to bring it up without upsetting the poor kid, so I played along. Two days later, we encountered two people on the road. Pekkle and I were heading east, and these two were going west. They were large men, and dirty. There was a dangerous look about them and they both wore cudgels at their waists. As soon as they spotted us, they began grinning and stroking the clubs. These were not gentlemen. I kept my head down and prayed that Pekkle would stay quiet. As we passed them I smelled cheap beer and hay. And then there was a blinding pain in the back of my head and the sound of a little girl screaming. I wheeled around clutching my walking stick to see one of the dirty brutes advancing on me and the other holding Pekkle off the ground by her forearms. Pekkle lashed her legs out in front of her and caught the goon in the groin. He crumpled to the ground and Pekkle ran off into the underbrush. I, however, was not so lucky. I swung my stick at the burly bandit, who easily knocked it out of the way and clubbed me in the face. I folded like Wyvern at a low-stakes poker table. A boot caught me in the midsection. I felt a rib crack. For the next several minutes blows rained on me from all directions. My vision began to blur by the time a rather large contingent of what appeared to be knights riding on large silver dragons appeared out the clear blue sky and began pummeling my two assailants. They fled and the dragon squad followed them. The last thing I saw before blacking out was Pekkle standing in the middle of the road with blood on her fists and a wide toothy grin. -------------------------------- OOC: So sorry about the near-two-month delay in this part. I kind of moved a while back, but I hope to be posting a bit more regularly. Please refrain from sending ninjas to assassinate me. (Pered, that means you!)

Part 4: Growing Pains “Wake up… c’mon, wake up!” Pekkle was tugging at the corner of my blanket. I groggily opened one eye and assessed the situation. The sun still hadn’t come up. The eye closed again. “I know you’re awake!” No use. She had me cornered. “…mmmm…what is it?” Eloquent, ain’t I? “There’s a monster under my bed… could you get rid of it?” I sprang into action. Leaping from the bed and throwing my robe around me, I grabbed my walking stick from its corner and warily stalked my way into Pekkle’s room. The low light of the moon dimly illuminated a small chest of clothes and several scattered toys. I crept closer towards the bed… I will pause for a moment to explain, lest you think I am stupid for taking this matter so seriously. We had arrived at the province of Shiwa several days ago, where my prospective job had turned into an actual, physical task. So far I had managed not to disappoint, and was more financially stable than at any point in recent memory. I had instantly taken up residence in one of the many fine Shiwan inns, renting out adjoining rooms for Pekkle and myself. This was quite expensive; as these rooms were full-sized and thus had two beds apiece, but it was a price I was willing to pay for the modicum of privacy it provided me. Pekkle was constantly in and out of my room when not asleep. Shiwa was apparently very insular, and she was having trouble making friends. So was I, for that matter. While nice enough, my coworkers were distant and aloof. For the time, we were each other’s only companionship. So I learned to play tiddlywinks and Pekkle got to listen to my stories. Shortly thereafter, Pekkle began waking me up in the middle of the night. She claimed there was a monster under her bed, or in her closet, or something to that effect, and I told her to go back to sleep. She went back, albeit hesitantly, and several hours later the screaming started. I bolted upright and grabbed my staff, then tore into Pekkle’s room. I could have kicked myself. Terra, as I have explained before, is solely based on magic. A monster under the bed is no uncommon thing. And there it was, cornering my young charge. It was nearly as large as I was, and covered in coarse black hair. Its black claws were stuck in the thick mattress where it had missed Pekkle. It was preparing to strike again. I clubbed the monstrosity over the head and it turned toward me, red eyes and yellow fangs glistening wetly. I considered running. Then I realized that this course of action would leave Pekkle alone with the beast and I struck it again. There was a dull thud and the creature fell over sideways. All bark and no bite. So the next time Pekkle came to me with a monster report, I swung into action. I waved my staff around under her bed for a while and encountered nothing. I then lit a candle and thoroughly searched her closet. Nothing there. False alarm, or so it seemed. Pekkle, however, was unconvinced and begged to sleep in my room that night. As there were two beds, I didn’t see any harm in it, and capitulated. As I was falling back to sleep, I heard a sound… it sounded like crying. In the morning I went off to work and Pekkle… it sounds horrible, I know, but I’m not sure what she did during those long days. I came home after lunch and Pekkle and I would talk, usually about me. She was very good at shifting the conversation away from herself, but I did manage to find out that she spent a lot of time trying to play with the other children, and not succeeding. I felt bad for the kid, but I didn’t really know how to deal with the situation. So I did what any pro-tem parent would do. I went to a Fortune Teller. It was a small, dirty, cluttered house, and it stank of mildew. There was dust caked onto everything. In short, the perfect place to find my quarry. She was in the back, draped in a quilt, and looked as if she would crumble under its weight. I knew better. Fortune Tellers are by their nature nearly immortal. In fact, there are some people who think that a Fortune Teller can’t really see the future and is just so old that they know practically everything, and can therefore make better than average guesses. Either way I needed an answer. I told the old lady everything. About the Demon, about the Village, about Pekkle, I even told her about the monster. And then she told me something. “You cannot keep her,” she wheezed, “You will not be able to control her… you must find the one… who is like you… and also like her…” The old woman told me to depart then, and I did. What else could I do? She made sense; I wasn’t an ideal caretaker for this little demon girl. Still, I’d gotten to know Pekkle pretty well, and I wasn’t going to be happy to let her go… I mean, I’d kind of gotten used to her. I almost felt like a parent. But I knew she was right. I hurt. And I was glad that I hurt. It meant I was human.

I'd like to be able to communicate at will with anyone I'd ever met, and vice versa. Losing touch with your friends just bites, and you can't always count on cell phones, e-mail, etc.

Part 3: Like a Child I’m not sure how many of you have been in a similar situation, this being Terra, but for me it was a hard decision. Keep in mind, I was quite… errr… financially challenged… at the time. I could barely support myself, let alone a child. Also, I’ve never really been good with children… I honestly couldn’t see myself raising one, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to abandon it to some orphanage. Also, it was a demon. And not just any demon, but a capitalized ‘Demon’ But then again, my conscience would never let me live it down if I left this kid here to die. There was really no choice. “All right. I’ll take her.” The Mayor did not look happy. He did not look angry, or relieved, or… much of anything. He gave me a key, told me where to use it, and then he left. I never saw him again. The key fit a lock on the top floor of the inn. Inside was a little girl whose face was very familiar. She was sitting on the floor, rolling a red ball at the far wall, and then catching it when it came back. As soon as the door opened, she turned and looked at me. Nothing else. “Err… Hello,” I said. “You’re gonna take me away, aren’t you…” She sounded sad. “Yeah… yeah I am. If that’s ok with you.” And so we left. Me with my stick and pack, uncomfortable already, and she with a pack of her own. As we left, I saw no one. It was like the Village was deserted. She looked like she would cry any moment. “Hey, um… so, what’s your name? I’m Finnius.” “Pekkle.” “Just Pekkle, not Pekkle the Something-or-other?” “Just Pekkle. We don’t get our full names until we *sniff* …until we grow up.” “I see… well… let’s… get going then.” Like I said, I’m not good with children. So we walked silently for a while. Sometime around noon, having long since passed the boundaries of the Village, we stopped for lunch, and a rest. Looking at my food supply, my heart sank. A few cups of rice, a couple of distinctly withered carrots, half a loaf of bread, and four apples that had seen better days. With no water in sight, the rice was definitely out, which left us not much to choose from. “So… fruits or vegetables?” I grinned a bit. Pekkle looked unimpressed. She also remained quiet. “Soooo… fruits it is…” I cut two of the apples into slices, and we ate. After which, we walked. Pekkle found a rock and began kicking it ahead of her as we walked. I remember that first day with Pekkle well. How uneasy I was to be in the custody of this child… the distinct feeling that I would fail her. I honestly didn’t know what I was going to do about her; I could barely think past getting this cooking job. Suddenly it hit me that I wasn’t ready for this, that there was no way I could deal with raising a child. But I couldn’t just get rid of her, after all… It was the most terrifying day of my life. That night, I slept not a wink. I just stayed up, trying to figure out how we were going to survive. Pekkle, on the other hand, slept like a rock. By the time the sun came up, I still hadn’t cornered my brain into giving me a direct answer, but I had determined that I would at least get to know my charge a little better. I started as we were packing up. “So, um… Pekkle… how old are you?” “I’m six. How about you?” She seemed to be in decidedly better mood than the previous day. “Well, I’m… errr… you know, I’m not really sure.” “How can you not be sure about how old you are?” “We don’t really celebrate birthdays where I’m from. In fact, until I left home, I didn’t even know what one was.” Pekkle’s eyes went wide with horror. “That sounds awful!” “Not really. I didn’t mind, but then, I didn’t know what I was missing.” “I guess…” We finished packing up and set out on the road again. I continued my line of questioning. “So what do you do for fun?” “I used to play with the other kids… but then everybody got sick.” She looked down at her feet and started sniffing. I wasn’t about to let today turn into a repeat of yesterday. “Well, I could play with you sometime, if you want.” She looked up at me sideways, obviously confused. “But… you’re old. Old people don’t play.” “Hey, I’m not that old! Seriously, what do you want to play?” “Well… we could play catch…” Pekkle still sounded uncertain, but she pulled out the red ball she had been playing with back at the inn and tossed it to me. Now let me tell you, playing catch while walking down the road isn’t as easy as one would think. It was a bit of a strain to keep up with Pekkle, but somehow I managed. Still, something nagged at the back of my mind, and it wasn’t until much later that I put my finger on it; I had bundled Pekkle’s pack into my own and was now carrying all of our possessions. Pekkle had pulled a ball out of nowhere.

Too true, too true. We've all "disappeared" from time to time, some more than others. Myself more than most. I mean, really, two frickin' years! Personally, I don't think any of us hold it against you, and actually, down time can be good. Think about it this way: In order to write well, you need inspriration. Knowledge. Experience. The best authors (generally) are the ones who did at least some of the things they wrote about. I don't know, maybe this isn't going anywhere. But not being able to access certain things tends to provoke people to exercise more accessible options.

Part 2: In the Village The road wandered past several houses, meandered around a corner or two, and eventually gave up and lead me to a settlement. I looked around for a moment, hoping to see an inn, or at least a tavern, but none were in sight. In my looking, however, I became distinctly aware of the people. Or should I say persons? It took me a moment to accept, but once there, the thought wouldn't leave my head. This village was populated entirely by two people. I began walking down the main street, and I passed the same bluff man who had been fixing a window in his yard, only he was wearing finer clothes and his hands weren't rough. I saw the same little girl carrying a basket of clothes on her head behind an older version of herself, and then running bare-foot and dusty chasing her mirror-image. I saw old men playing chess with themselves on the stoop of a shop. The same people, but with endless variations. My head throbbed at the thought. Quite possibly this was because I was tired. And eventually, I found an inn; run by a man I'd seen a hundred times before, and not once in my life met. He did not make me pay for a room, only sign his guestbook, which was decidedly empty, and gave me a good deal on breakfast before showing me to a bed. I slept well into the afternoon, and when I woke up, the town council was waiting for me. The town council consisted of five people: One man, and one woman; the man present two times and the woman three. One of the men approached me hesitantly. "Your name is... Finnius, right? We don't get many visitors around here. My name is Pekkle the Mayor. The woman to my right is Pekkle the Trader, and the one to my left is Pekkle the Farmer. The other man is Pekkle the Smith, and the woman at his side is Pekkle the Tanner. We represent the Village, and would like to speak with you." The Mayor motioned to a table farther to the right, and I followed him to it and sat. The other four members of the council followed us as far as the table, then each nodded to the Mayor and left. Confused, I kept my tongue. "You're probably wondering what's going on by now. I know that this village is... less than normal. But bear with me and I'll explain. And afterwards, I'll ask you a thing or two. This village, the Village of Pekkle; was founded a long time ago. Exactly how long, I'm not sure, but it predates any of our records. What we do know is how and why it was founded. In the beginning, there was a man and a woman. We don't know their names, but we do know their faces. These two people were from warring tribes, or maybe feuding families, or it could have been hostile countries. All we know is that their cultures were incompatible, and unfriendly with each other. But somehow... this man and woman met, and fell in love. It's an old story, true. They knew that their love could not be stable or safe, but neither was willing to give up on the other. So they ran away from their countries, their tribes, their families. And through trial, through hardship; they came here. We don't know how long it took, only that it was a long time. Their food had run out and they would soon starve to death. They held on to each other and prepared for the end. And just as they were about to succumb, they heard... not a voice, exactly. More a thought, an idea. They heard the Demon Pekkle. Pekkle was old. Older than old, and very wise. Also very bored, was Pekkle. It had long since learned almost everything it cared to know, and had done almost everything it cared to do. But here, right where it had came to rest, were two beings that intrigued Pekkle very much. The Demon had not had contact with humans before, and was puzzled by their lack of magic. It did not understand their willingness to die with each other, when they could have lived separately. The Demon did not understand love. But it wanted to. And the Demon made the man and woman an offer. It would grant them life, and longevity, if they would let it bond itself to their souls. The Demon promised to leave the two alone and not to hurt them, only observe and protect. The man and woman considered this, and eventually saw no other alternative. They accepted, and became the First Pekkles: Pekkle the Man and Pekkle the Woman. Over time, the two had children, and were surprised when their children looked like them. Through the artifice of the Demon, their children had children, and so on down the line. Each new Pekkle was infused with the soul of the Demon, and also with the soul of the First Two. This was the longevity that the Demon had spoken of; the children of the Two would forever be reflections of them. We are all aspects of those two, and of the Demon. It watches us still, and learns. But there is a problem. Recently, Pekkles have been... getting ill. Some of us have died. The illness is contagious, but otherwise we cannot identify it. It only seems to affect Pekkles, and without help we will soon be dead. I must ask you to perform a service for us. Pekkle the Soothsayer has read the future and seen our end. This Village is doomed, but the Demon, and our line, can be saved. There is still a child who has not been infected. Take her with you when you leave. Take her far away and keep her alive so that we might all live again. Please, I beg you." The Mayor waited for my response. He waited a long time. OOC: OK, kids, that's it for the night. I would also like to apologize for the misspelling of the word throw in part one. Hope you enjoyed, good night, and sweet dreams.

OOC: It's been done for a while now, but thanks to many bouts of circumstantial stupidity and general irking reality, I have not been able to post this. In any case, sorry about the delay, and no this is not the whole thing. I may get one more part up tonight, but I'm having to re-type it all in Word, then connect for just long enough to copy-and-paste. Be patient, and please don't through shoes at me. Thanks, and enjoy! Pekkle's Bit, Part 1: My Name, My World This takes place long (Well, not too long.) before I came to the Old Conservatory, before I had even heard of it; and before I had been introduced to the Pen. In a way, it is the story of who I am, really. In a way, it is about growing up, both physically and emotionally. And in a way, it is about life, death, and the transcending nature of love. All very poetic thoughts, but none of them were on my mind as I shouldered my pack and set out on the road early one April night. Which is where this story begins. Before we go any further, I believe that introductions are in order. My name, in full, is Finnius Mustardio Jalopini Canard O’Harpy. Quite a mouthful, if I didn’t just say so myself. Just don’t ask me to do so again. It’s a bit longer now than it was way back when, but I give it to you here in full. At the time of this story I was… well, I like to call it indigent. A less tactful person would say unemployed and homeless. The reason for this is the economy of Terra, which is almost entirely based on magic. In fact, nearly everyone I meet these days is a mage of some sort, or works for one, or is aspiring to be one, or was transported here through the machinations of one. I have personally encountered angels, numerous demons, walking (And singing… sort of.) trees, at least one god, various and sundry dragons, hordes of verbose animals, dwarves, enough vampires, liches, and zombies to beat the band, and enough elves and variations thereon to beat the undead back off the band. That last anecdote, by the way is not a turn of phrase. It actually happened, and at one of my concerts to boot! As for what that has to do with me; I’m what you would call ‘human.’ Weird, huh? In fact, I’m one of the only ones I know of, and very possibly the only one of those without any notable supernatural skill. Add in the fact that I’m… kind of blue, and you have one little man that just doesn’t fit in with the magical economy. And no, I’m not sad. I’m blue. From head to toe. As for why this is; the official story involves a school crush and a tattoo parlor, and the unofficial story is unofficial, and therefore not to be trusted. So let’s stick with the first and forget about the second. In any case, I was walking at night mainly to avoid the sun’s heat. Being a dark shade of indigo, I tend to get hot pretty quickly. The road was straight and firmly packed, if somewhat sparse, and at the time I was on my way to a possible job engagement, namely cooking for a local mage. I felt confident in my abilities to keep the job, even though I couldn’t conjure feasts from thin air, or glaze a ham with my thoughts. In fact, I had had to… stretch the truth… to get the job. Let’s just say that my application had mentioned something about me being ‘A wizard in the kitchen!’ But back to the story. The sun was rising ahead of me, and I was getting fairly tired when there appeared on my right a small house. It was made of rough-hewn wooden planks, and there was a somewhat wide, red-faced young man in the yard fixing a window. He noticed me and waved, and I waved back cautiously. Cautiously, because you never know what a simple hand-gesture means in Terra. He could’ve been trying to through fireballs at me for all I knew. Still, he had no horns, no giant feathery or leathery wings, no glowing eyes of any color… no tail… he looked human. But looks can be deceiving around here, so, making my formalities, I passed on. Just as the first house was fading from view behind me, a second appeared on my left. It looked very similar to the first, and an older couple sat in rocking chairs on the porch. The old gentleman looked a great deal like the young man in the yard of the first house I had passed. Possibly a father, or uncle. This didn’t register as odd with me, nor did the third house just a short bit further on, where I caught a glimpse of a woman hanging laundry outside. A woman who could have been a younger version of the old lady on the porch. Nothing struck me as odd… until I reached the Village

Double grr's for tonight. The first is my fault: Remember that story I was going to post? Had the first part near-done after two or so hours... and the computer freezes up. Honestly, I only had two things up! Never again will I write without constantly saving. The second is patently not: Juno is still being annoying. And I qoute: As a result of measures we have adopted to address disproportionate consumption of Web-related resources by heavier users of our free service, you will not be able to use the Web before 4:00 A.M. Eastern time. It is now twenty-till five. Juno won't let me on for longer than a minute. I have attempted to get in touch with my monolithic so-called ISP, and gotten a completely useless automated 'help' service. This... must... stop. So, no readables this week, which grinds me like crazy; seeing as I really want this story out! I will, however, give you a title, and short description; because otherwise my little blue brain will burst: Pekkle's Bit; The last tie-in I will ever write about Cerulean's Masquerade... maybe.

I will now assume that it has been long enough for most everyone who is going to see Reloaded to have actually... well, seen it. If not: STOP RIGHT HERE. Good? OK? All right, then. Blondemoon, what was so bad about the end? Unless... *Clucks teeth* you didn't stick around for the preview after the credits? Ooooh, tell me you saw it... In any case, I must make a few revisions in light of Reloaded: The blue pill? Still the right choice. Abso-freakin'-lutely. So we've heard the arguments for red, free will, a chance at true, real, happiness, romantic Kerouac and all that. Maybe so, maybe so. But I pose you this question: If the humans win... really win, and be done with the living machines, free everyone from the Matrix, and do away with the whole thing: Then what? With no Matrix, the vast majority of people would die out. Think about it, they're all hooked up and being fed nutrients through tubes, mainly reprocessed humans. Ghoulish? Well, many cultures bury their dead. The bodies break down, sift into the soil, and get absorbed by plants, which we then eat. It just takes longer. In any case, without everyone hooked up, there wouldn't be enough food to go around. Starvation station, man. So the machines are doing us a favor, if you think about it. I, for one, bow to my mechanical masters. Obviously they're smarter than us, I mean, we... oh, for example, Blew Up the Sky! I think I'll let the computers run things for a while, thank you. One more thing before I go; I for one am glad to see that my boy Pere- I mean Smith is coming up in the world. You go, Hugo, you go.

Standout insanity, wonderful stuff! I am in awe of your ability to connect that many tourist-traps into a coherent and legitimately entertaining story. *Whips out wallet, opens... sighs. Must save money...

We like Psimon's work, Haiku is a lost art form, Why was I plural? Headphones are turned up, Roger Waters? A genius. Pink Floyd freakin' rocks! I notice the time. My eyes are disappointed. I must go to work. ------------------------ Great work, you're quickly becoming one of my favorite poets. Just remember; if you stop, I'll track you down and kill you Calvin & Hobbes style. (Suck your eyes out with peanut butter.)

First, allow me to say this: I... despise... Juno. I would have been around a bit the last two weeks, but Juno... grr... had to screw over its free users. Which I am. So there are small problems in my getting connected for any decent length of time. Sorry about that. Second: I do have another story to post, but I won't be able to do so tonight, as I have to be at work in... oh, about fourty-five minutes. It'll be up as soon as humanly possible, though, which'll (Hopefully.) be sometime later this week. Tomorrow, if I'm lucky. Third: There is no 'Third;' however, announcements, infogramy (Not a real word.), and other purvesions of ideas tend to sound better in threes. Again, thanks for the compliments and nice words, all.

A bottle of scotch, wrapped with a blue ribbon, floats gently down to Ozy; born on a makeshift napkin-parachute. Attached is a small white card, with three simple lines legiblely scribbled in black ink. Who is our Founder? Who gets a line to himself? Ozymandius. Looking up at the balcony, one could see a little blue man in a faux-fur lined jacket receding into the throng of party-goers, eerily reminiscent of the attire he wore to the last birthday party he had attended. OOC: A belated happy-birthday to you, oh One Who’s Works Include a Vast Wasteland.

Gasps Why, Sal, you know that I'm not ashamed of the Dead Elvis! Just the two guys doing it with me... kidding.

Lovely stuff, and yes, it flows. It flows like silk over ice, or like a metaphor losing it's meaning, flowing downhill as the relevance to it's origional topic receeds. Very good.

OOC: This is a song that I and two friends wrote Friday night, hoping to sing it on the radio Saturday night. Well, we managed to get about thirty seconds worth, seeing as that was all we had rehersed and none of us could move from the first verse to the chorus. Salinye, who was listening via webcast at the time, missed the first part of this performance. So Sal, this one's for you. Vocals: Me and Scott Guitar: Halen Squeezebox: Scott ------------------ Ever since I left her I'm sleeping in dumpsters She had the money, but I got the crabs- And I just wasn't enoo-ugh For her to loo-oove Now she's picking up my friends, and I'm picking scabs Chorus: Now she's gone, and I'm alone No water, no power, no telephone Don't even have a place to call home Yeah, she killed two birds with one scone My friends said things would look up And I could get mad hook-ups If I'd become a gigolo But they were lieing posers Generic Yo Boy hosers And all I got was a trucker who wanted to go(Note that this line has been made PG-13 for posting purposes.) Chorus They got me feeling down Those mouth-breathing Icer clowns I got some better friends instead And I went all punk rocker On the jokers wearing dockers I pierced my ears and shaved my head Chorus Now I sell blood for money And God, I think it's funny When I look back on where I've been I used to be a dumb sap Who always shopped at the Gap I won't be going there again Chorus Yeah, all of this is true I used to be GQ I used to shop at Babbages Now all I've got in stock Is old-school hardcore punk rock And a TPB of Hopeless Savages ----------------------------------------- If this song has offended, Think but this and all is mended, That the men who wrote this thing, Cannot play and cannot sing. Seriously, it's punk. Old school, hardcore punk, just like the song says. Sorry, really, I am, if anyone found this offensive.

In all honesty, that was almost exactly what I did on New Year's 2000. Except, I stayed up with a friend, and we waited for the non-existent wall of fire that was supposed to sweep over the horizon, marking the precise toll of midnight, as demarcated by the local time-zone. And, I must say; living in South Carolina, I wouldn't want to be buried in Georgia either. Or here. Or really anywhere in the immediate area. I've settled on cremation, after which my ashes will be mixed into vodka and shot by my friends. Now I just have to get them to agree... The point is, that was an excellent piece!

Zool's Day Out "... and anyway, it wasn't that big a deal, right?" Zool slowly shook his head as he spoke, almost as if he didn't believe it himself. In fact, had it not been for the frame of his picture and his currently nailed-to-a-wall state, he'd probably be gone by now. The Ancient screwed his face up, so that anyone walking into the room would think that half the Elders of the Mighty Pen were sternly addressing an authentic Picasso. "C'mon, guys, pleeeeease don't lock me in a storage closet or force me to take over applications or babysit Minta... I can explain..." ---------------------------- The day before, somewhere outside... yeah with trees... and birds... you get the idea. "It was early spring, and a young... errr... well, anyway, a reasonably-not-old member of the Pen had decided to spend the day... um, communing with nature. Anyway, this Ancient, who I will refer to as 'Zool,' was happily sitting under a tree, minding his own business. The squirrels were singing, the birds were gathering nuts... The sweet sounds of nature hummed all around the forest as though harmonizing with his thoughts. It was bliss. And then, out of nowhere, disaster struck. It started to rain! Just little sprinkle-drops at first, but then they got bigger and bigger, until the little shower had turned into a deluge! Zool was dismayed, as he hadn't even started on his packed lunch yet... Did I mention he had a packed lunch? Oh, well, it was a wonderful lunch, made specially for Zool by his good friend Wyvern, who happens to be an excellent chef, if Zool didn't say so himself, and... what? Why are you looking at me like that, this is Zool's story... fine, fine, back to the point... Anyway, the only thing Zool could think of was to get under cover, making sure to take care of his wonderful lunch. This was a bit of a problem, see, as Zool was how-shall-we-say... 'trapped in a painting' at the time. Luckily, Zool had thought to invite several ambulatory rubber chickens along. The chickens happened to be sufficiently strong to move Zool's painting back in-doors, but were sadly not able to save Zool's lunch. Zool lamented that lunch for near an hour. It was a thing of beauty, tuna and olives and pickled ham and deviled eggs and fresh bread and jello and baked ziti and cornish game hen and half a roasted pig and about a million other scrumptious things that Zool's wonderful friend Wyvern had packed for him. A moment of silence for Zool's lunch. ... Ok, so anyway, the rain let up eventually and Zool instructed the chickens to take him back to the Cabaret Room so that he could get some decent food. The chickens lugged him over there and propped him by the bar, then went on a smoke break. A waitress was soon with Zool; pretty and with dark hair, and blushing furiously. Zool was soon to find out why. The waitress took Zool's order and brought Zool's snakebite in record time, then made off with Zool's money and was never seen by Zool again. This dismayed Zool, as he had heartilly looked foreward to hitting on her. For several minutes, Zool drank in peace, only being interrupted when a somewhat naked mage, whom I will refer to as 'Tzimfemme,' entered the room and began furiously beating Zool over the top-frame with some kind of fish. Zool's memory is a bit fuzzy on what kind of fish it was. He does, however, remember that it hurt like the dickens. In any case, it was at this point that Zool realized that: A. He had been wearing an oil-based suit; and B. It had not had time to properly set. Zool was, of course, dismayed. He now knew why the waitress had been blushing, and why Tzimfemme was pelting him with seafood. It was, as a certain Peredhil, whom I will refer to here as 'Polite Ancient,' would say, 'Not in good taste to rip off someone else's shtick, unless you do it better than them.' After Zool was finished being beaten, he was dragged into the Assembly Hall, rudely nailed to a wall, and left alone over-night to think about what he had done. The next morning, he was given a stern talking-to by half the Elders of the Mighty Pen, and maybe let go with a warning, if he was lucky?" ------------------------------- The assembled Elders stared at Zool in blank silence for a moment. Tzimfemme snorted loudly after a moment. "I think you and Wyvern went out and got drunk, then played strip poker with Canid's fuzzies." The picture on the wall tries, and fails, to look innocent. "Still, nailing you to a wall overnight seems to have sobered you up a bit, so we can let it slide." Sighing relieved, she thinks, That must NEVER happen again...and thus a new proclamation was posted in the Cabaret the next day stating in bold black letters: ALL Pen initiates, members and especially Elders, MUST remember that failure to remain fully clothed when outside your personal quarters CAN be detrimental to your health. ---------------------- OOC: Finnius covers his head and begs for Zool not to hurt him.

Sal, you naughty girl! I highly commend the twist. It almost made me cross myself, and I'm not even Catholic!

Wow... man's involvement in one 'world' leaves him incognizant of another. In failing to notice the everyday beauty around us, we become part of it, simply by our natural being. (Or something like that.) Such are we all. Wonderfully provocative, to steal a phrase from every book on the New York Times Bestseller List.