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  1. #131
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    Had to split the first chapter of this story into A,B & C.

    CH 1 (C)

    Tallen awoke to the sound of crows squawk. He touched his head tentatively then opened his eyes. A small gash to his forehead and none the worse for it, he thought. Still alive, he pinched himself to make sure. A frosty face greeted him. ‘Ah, I see you’re awake. Good, good. For a minute there I didn’t think you’d ever wake.’ Tapin replied, genuinely concerned.
    ‘Wha.’ Tallen sat up. Studied Tapin’s face and to his surprise found a different man from the one who treated him the day before. ‘Tapin! What happened?’
    Tapin’s burly hair bobbled as he spoke. ‘I’ve been trying to ask myself the same question.’ He looked at his necklace regretfully. ‘I just don’t know. Its like I’ve woken from a nightmare only to find I’m still dreaming. It was the strange lady who did it with her magic words. I.’ He paused. ‘This town, I do not know what has happened but…’ He stiffened as he heard footsteps shuffle behind him.
    ‘Someone’s been a little careless.’ Daroff muttered at himself. ‘No matter! Tapin what do you think you’re doing.’ He approached with one purpose in mind.
    ‘What does it look like I’m doing.’ He tried to bluff, purchasing a sickle’s handle.
    Daroff licked his lips. ‘I dunno, to me it looks like you be consorting with the heretic.’ He stepped forward hungrily as he brought the mace down upon him.
    Tapin braced himself, blocking a crushing blow only inches from his head. ‘It doesn’t have to be this way.’ Tapin roared. He lunged forward, pushing Daroff back. ‘What’s gotten into you? Didn’t you see that woman?’ He retreated, a little disturbed.
    ‘Yes, that blasted woman.’ An inhuman voice croaked. ‘Kell should’ve killed her while he had the chance. They’ll ruin everything, all our plans; all our hard work.’ He continued. ‘She bewitched the whole lot of them, you included. She is a heretic as they all are, just like this fiend before us.’ He spat at Tallen.
    Tapin shook his head. ‘You’re wrong. It is you who are bewitched. By the pits, if I didn’t know better I’d swear.’ Anger overtook his astonishment as he raced towards Daroff. Before Daroff could counter, the sickle imbedded itself deep within his guts.
    Daroff looked at Tapin in utter disbelief. ‘Do you think I can die so easily mortal?’ He touched his chest. Blood flowed freely, his lungs ceased to function. ‘This body dies. But I do not, mortal. Remember this day, for I shall return and when I do, you’re blood will spill upon my hands.’ A whisp parted from the body and fled into the night.
    Tapin removed the sickle from Daroff who now lay still. He looked at him with sorrowful eyes. And knelt beside him. ‘May you pass through the routerworld unmolested.’ Then closed his eyes.
    Tallen did not know what to say. Instead he mustered enough strength to scrabble up a wall for support. His legs felt woozy as he did this. Then he stood, trying to maintain his balance and spoke. ‘What was that? A pit fiend, is it even possible?’
    ‘Apparently so.’ Tapin mused. ‘Come, I think it wise to leave this place.’ He put his arms around him, gently moving him forward. ‘We better head for ye old plondits. I hope the witch has more answers than this poor bastard.’ He kicked him to make sure he was a corpse. Then both labored their way out of the prison. The streets were deserted at this late hour. ‘Thank heavens for small mercies.’ He jested quietly. His heart stopped, a rickety cat glowered at them before scuttling up a gutter. Then with a sigh of relief they turned towards the tavern.
    To their surprise all the patrons were fast asleep. A flat-faced Relg had his head slopped in wine, another sprawled across the floor, a third person clutched a mug, a fourth slept atop a man who’s face showed a wide grin, but equally asleep. Another laid belly up, and this for all the patrons in the bar, which seemed unusually full to Tapin’s wonder. Needless to say they proceeded up the stairs to the witches room. As Tapin was about to open the door, it moved back of its own accord and a large pointy sword aimed straight for his heart.
    Ord looked the pair over before speaking. ‘Be on your way lest you want your chest cleaved.’
    ‘I implore you sir. We need to see the witch.’ Shifting to full view he let Ord see Tallen.
    Uncertain, Ord stepped back a little, conferred with another man before returning. ‘Very well, but be warned no funny business.’ He waved the sword threateningly before sheaving it then stepped aside.
    He observed the witch to be of a haunting beauty unmatched by any in the village. Yet her face seemed contorted as if weaving a spell. The fat man to the left bowed before them. His moustache wrinkled as they approached. The warrior let them enter but did not lift his gaze, even though he knew them not to be a threat. ‘I seek answers.’ He started. ‘Strange things have been happening and I know not who to turn to.’ He bowed to the lady. ‘It is your words that most struck me. I know not what possessed me but realization struck me at the evil deeds that have been performed by my hands. If it be too late to make amends so be it but amends I shall try to make.’ He looked at Tallen and proceeded to sit him on the edge of the bed.
    ‘It is as well we too need answers. Friend or foe be you.’ Ephraim replied, rubbing his cheek. ‘Alas an ally, why else bring this man here?’ He rose to sit next to Tallen. ‘Good lord.’ He yelped. ‘You look so familiar.’ He peered into Tallens eyes as if to read his thoughts. ‘Yes, it is you.’
    Ord remained alert. ‘If you’d only listen to me the first time.’ He pulled up a seat. Decidedly more relaxed. ‘I knew him the first time I smelled the wretch.’ He paused, tapping his toe. ‘Kell only confirmed it. It is Tallen, the Tallen of House Mezzarr I suspect.’ Then he pointed at Ephraim. ‘But no, you dallied and to think we almost…’ He shook a little.
    Soberly Ephraim wiped Tallens face. ‘It was a little a little late.’ He admitted, but he’s here, at least we can thank the graces for that one.’
    Miranda snapped to attention. Woken from her trance she scanned the room. ‘It is done; we have but moments before he finds something amiss. We need to go now.’
    Tapin blinked. ‘Who will find what amiss?’
    Ephraim smiled weakly. ‘Not very bright are you. That damnable chief of yours is who.’ Haven’t you noticed downstairs? Everyone sleeps.’
    ‘We have no time for this, though I do wish to know who this man is?’
    Tapin rested Tallen then came to the lady and knelt before her. ‘It is my honor mistress. I am indebted to you for your timely intervention. Were I but unaware, but it seems things have turned for the worse in Lorenbast.’
    ‘Speak your piece.’
    ‘It is sad indeed, a tragedy even.’ He gulped. ‘Milady my name is Tapin, I or at least I thought I was doing the right thing. I’m the town’s guard you see. As such I do various things without question. However things have increasingly dwindled to a state of madness. This man told of such a circumstance, perhaps what is happening now might be what he saw.’ Tapin wondered for the first time. ‘But sadly he is not the first of his kind to traverse this ungodly town.’ He removed his necklace shamefacedly.
    As soon as Miranda saw it she wept. ‘So it’s true.’
    A look of unforgivable fury swept over Ords face. ‘How did you get that, if the pits themselves don’t swallow you than I’ll do it for them.’ He dropped everything and unclasped his sword.
    Ephraim jumped up, took Ord by the shoulder and said. ‘Think clear Ord. We don’t know yet.’ Then as he calmed him Ephraim took on a dangerous stance himself and asked the question. ‘Please tell us that isn’t Lesshalia’s.’
    Tapin paled. ‘Um, well you see.’ He began.
    ‘No, it is okay. I’ll tell them.’ Tallen interrupted in a raspy voice.
    ‘This is on my head.’ His eyes lightened at his kindness thought. ‘I knew it was wrong when it happened. But the chief commanded it be done and then the village, that atmosphere, you saw it. We must have been swept up in the moment or something.’ He shook his head in disbelief as it dawned on him. ‘Killing all those foretellers. It was as if we were magiced into it. I swear at the time I thought they were heretics as the chief said. But, but as the lady here spoke those words, it was as if I saw with a clear head for the first time and what I saw shocked me.’ He looked at the silver toothed necklace. ‘This.’ It was so very hard for him to say it, for he did not know her but these people did. ‘Lesshalia, she was a good woman, I knew that but I was not myself. Even with Tallen, I did mistreat him so.’
    ‘How could this happen?’ Demanded Ephraim and Ord.
    ‘I don’t know, I tell you, I just don’t know.’ He almost started to cry. ‘It seems so silly now. But it was the idea; it drove into my mind as if there was no question about it. She was a heretic, he was a heretic.’ He pointed at Tallen. ‘They all were heretics, all six of them, they came and Kell dispensed the law. They told their visions and Kell scoffed. Each one said much the same, that his sister’d blight us all, that we’d all suffer. That everything will die. Yet when it never happened but the opposite we, or at least I felt the executions were justified. I even reveled in it. I took Lesshalia’s tooth as a keep sake, thinking how proud it was what I did.’ He cast his eyes down dejectedly. After a moments silence he put the necklace on the bed, sickened by what he said. ‘I don’t know, it was all so strange, the harvest was overabundant, we had great plenty this year like never before. So when these foretellers kept telling such lies, I.’ He stopped.
    Ephraim gave him little sympathy. ‘But that still doesn’t explain everything.’ He wanted to know why he referred to this year as a great plenty. He frowned, after all they barely saw a bushel, let alone a field that was not wilted and withered. And the people, they weren’t the best of health either. What of the animals too, not a sound or a peep, no dogs barking in the streets, no rooster bellowing its morning cry. Now that he thought about it, coming this way was a little too quiet.
    Miranda pocketed the necklace. Dried her eyes and asked. ‘Tallen Mezzarr, how is it you managed to be here of all places.’
    ‘Mira, it is good to see you. I only wish it were under better circumstances.’ He tried to straighten out his cloth. ‘It is strange, true, but it was as if compelled to turn this way. At first I knew not why, but then I had visions of things to come. Stronger than normal, if I only knew, as any foreteller would do I sought the leader of this place to warn them. Apparently my warnings were unwelcoming.’ He rasped. ‘I too am deeply shocked to hear of Lesshalias death. I had hopped it to be unfounded but then.’ He glanced at her pocket.
    ‘Yes. What’s done is done.’ Ord said sternly. ‘But we’re not safe yet. We need to got out while we still have time.’
    ‘He’s right.’ Ephraim motioned for them to follow. ‘Tallen, will you be okay?’
    ‘I think so, I am a little weakened but I should be fine.’ He got up with a stagger.
    Ord propped himself beside him. ‘Let me help, just till we reach the outside.’ Tallen didn’t object, truth to tell he wasn’t sure he could get far on his own.
    Miranda brushed past Ephraim and headed downstairs. To her satisfaction everyone lay fast asleep. She waited for the others.
    ‘How long will they sleep?’ Tapin asked. A sizable man himself, he was unshaven and gritty. His curly hair made him look scruffy. Wearing a leather jacket, black pants and boots, he had the sickle tucked behind his trouser pants.
    ‘It depends, sometimes hours sometimes less. Lets not press our luck.’ She opened the door and called for Raven. The horse’s keen eyes betrayed it. It felt restless, a deep fear in its eyes as it shuffled back and forth. Its main was pure black, had his saddle been any tighter he might have whined, overall a handsome and healthy horse that has been treated well over the years.
    Ord’s mare, Falcon, neighed eagerly as he approached. His white back with gray spots made him older than was actual. An extremely keen and agile horse that proceeded to act calm even when faced with danger, yet tonight falcon was agitated as was Ephraim’s steed, if a steed at all. Weasel was a shifty horse that disobeyed him more than it took commands. Weasel betrayed his brown coat of fur to the night as they approached, a sneer upon its face for its master. Yet their relationship was one of irony. Weasel was a destitute horse once, ready for the death bead. Ephraim took pity upon him, but somehow the horse didn’t reciprocate, although he’d be faster than either falcon or raven if he wanted; yet he kept lagging behind as if to annoy the party.
    ‘What is it boy.’ Ord started as he scanned the night. A shadow slithered through the night, a building at a time. As it approached, the horses became even more agitated, but put to ease as their masters were nearby. Then another appeared across town. Ord drew his sword, quickly unfastened falcon and brought him to Tallen. ‘This is bad.’ He uttered.
    ‘What, what do you see.’ Ephraim bellowed.
    ‘By the pits man! Do you want to wake everyone.’ Ord retorted. He spat at the floor near him to make his anger plain. ‘Specters, there are five approaching from all sides.’ He replied. Then turned to Tallen. ‘Can you mount falcon.’
    ‘Good question, I haven’t done this in ages.’ He gave a shaky thumb up.
    Tapin and Ephraim saw his feeble efforts and helped to hoist him up onto falcon.
    Miranda shuddered. ‘I see them now. We can’t possibly fight them. We must go.’
    Then a large figure appeared before them. ‘I see you have far better resources than I gave you credit witch.’ The figure bellowed.
    In the night sky it appeared to hover above them.
    ‘Kell.’ Ord shouted. He looked at Kell who now had a menacing countenance about him. His body was stained with blood, small holes on all sides. A blood red gown was draped round his waist. ‘What is this, what in the name of pits are you?’
    Kells eyes lighted aflame, piercing the night sky. ‘I am destiny. I am the future.’ He started as more shadows appeared around him. ‘I am one now, but soon, many will follow. There will not be time enough to stop what has already begun. Your foretellers didn’t even see me, ha, ha, ha, ha!’ His laughter carried throughout the village. ‘Did it not seem odd that so many converged upon this very location, Lorenbast. It is I who calls out to all foretellers, and when they come I crucify their bodies to the exalted one. That is why your arrival was a little unexpected but not unwelcome.’ A devilish grin spread over his face.
    ‘Quickly, Miranda take Raven and go, I’ll hold them off.’ Ord ordered her.
    ‘As will I.’ Tapin bravely chimed in, reaching for his sickle. He waved it about nervously.
    ‘Don’t be foolish.’ Ephraim retorted. ‘No one stays. Grab my hand.’
    ‘Stop right there.’ A seething voice screeched. ‘That one is mine.’ The creature turned to Kell pleadingly. ‘He is mine.’
    Kell took it into consideration then replied. ‘If things weren’t so busy, but yes, I leave you in charge but do not fail me.’ Kell sighed. ‘Do not fail me, urling.’ Then turned his attention back to them. ‘Be fortunate this day you need not witness my power. Should you survive…’ Kell looked at urling with a death of a thousands deaths. ‘It will be my personal pleasure to sacrifice you all to the exalted one.’ With that he exploded into a fist of fire and vanished.
    The urling advanced on them. ‘Stay back.’ It shouted to the specters. ‘That one is mine.’ He pointed at Tapin. ‘He is mine.’ He repeated in a madness accustomed to man.
    Tapin looked at the urling. Its slimy green body bore spikes atop its back. Its hindquarters latched onto a building as it climbed its wall. Its front claws were sharp as blades, three on each. Its black ovular eyes shone in the moonlit night, a heavy red carved into them. It crept closer, inch-by-inch. Its barbed tongue outstretched, it sampled the air, taunting its pray. ‘What do you want with me?’ He asked it.
    ‘What do I want. I want you dead.’ It roared. ‘I want you dead from this world like Daroff.’ The urling smiled. ‘Yes that’s right.’ It hissed. ‘Daroff, you do know poor old Daroff. Poor, poor Daroff, how disappointed he was when you staked him through the heart. Isn’t that right.’ Ever inching forward, the urling dropped from one building and glided to the next excitedly, now moments away from striking.
    ‘Who in blazes is Daroff?’ Ephraim muttered as he saddled weasel.
    Tallen answered. ‘This thing was inside Daroff, I think. When Tapin killed him it said it’d exact its revenge. As we fled the prison, a shade left him as he was dying, I believe this is that creature born again.’ He gripped his rains about to push falcon on but falcon stood still.
    ‘Tallen knows, tallen knows more than he tells he does.’ Urling jumped down before Tapin. ‘But we mustn’t have mouths spreading the good word.’ It licked its lips, beaming.
    ‘If you want me pit fiend then you’ve got me.’ He cried out. ‘But let them go, they are innocent.’
    The urling almost chuckled. ‘Such valor at the last, poor Tapin, you were so good before. Now what has that witch gone and done. Poor Tapin now he is evil just like they are. We mustn’t let the madness spread.’ Urling shook his head. ‘No the madness spreads. But the madness mustn’t spread like this.’ He waved his forepaw. The shades immediately came to life.
    ‘What are you talking about?’ Ord demanded.
    ‘Leave, save yourself.’ Tapin yelled. ‘It is me he wants so let him take me! I won’t fall easily.’ He muttered. ‘Never easy.’ He reassured himself.
    ‘No one’s going anywhere.’ Urling screeched. ‘No one is permitted to spread the madness. Kell will kill if you leave. You must all stay for the sacrifice.’ With the last remark he lashed out at Tapin with his tongue.
    Tapin closed his eyes and threw the sickle at the urling. After moments passed he opened his eyes, fully expecting to be twirled around the urlings tongue, but to his surprise the urling pricked itself upon the sickle instead.
    It yelped in discomfort. ‘Oowie, owe. Lucky guess Tapin.’ The urling spat the sickle out of its mouth, but next time you won’t be so lucky.’
    But before it got ready to strike, Ord moved swiftly as a bobcat and slashed at his tongue. A clean cut, he lopped it off. Then retreated and pulled up falcon and seated himself behind Tallen. ‘No how did you like that.’ Ord grinned at his own handy work. ‘Now we leave. Tapin quickly now, take Ephraim’s steed and let’s get out of here.
    ‘Nooo.’ The urling screamed. ‘No one goes. Not now or ever, I kill you all. ‘It splattered at them with a pained twitch. ‘Especially this one.’ As soon as he said it he jumped at Tapin and ripped into his chest with his claws. Satisfied at his kill, he drank the victim’s blood, paying no heed to anyone else.
    Tallen shivered as Ord kicked falcon to action. Ephraim followed, sickened at the spectacle. Miranda came close behind. She chanted a spell and their horses quickened. Meanwhile the specters closed in on them, one flung itself at the back of Ords horse, leaving a fresh mark of blood. The horse panicked and started to buck. Ord flung a dagger at the specter and it flew back. He then proceeded to calm his horse before regrouping and swerving more specters in their path.
    Ephraim ducked as a specter swooped upon him, only inches separated them as he continued at a full canter. Miranda might have had similar trouble bar the fact she shielded herself and any specter that came too close smashed into a shell and bounced back, the protection adequate. They sped out of Lorenbast as fast as their horse legs could carry leaving behind their pursuers. They continued for some time until their horses could no longer run.

  2. #132
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    I could write like water once...those were the days!

  3. #133
    The Duchess of Oddity Queen Kat's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Queen Kat View Post
    The Evi L. Files, part 1
    Quote Originally Posted by Queen Kat View Post
    The Evi L. Files, part 2
    Quote Originally Posted by Queen Kat View Post
    The Evi L. Files, part 3
    And today I have here the last part of the Evi L. Files. Still not trying to mock with anybody, so if you feel offended, go fuck yourself. I tried to translate it and put it in a more understandabled American context and I also tried to make it as unoffensive as possible, so fuck you. Stop being sensitive.

    It’s still a mystery what made Evi go missing. Did she go on a holiday and forge to tell the people around her, or is something else going on? The detective found some important traces that could reveal what was going on. “There was a shooting in LeFric’s living room quite recently. It could have been on the day that she left, but her house seems to tidy for that. We found gun powder on two places. The gun powder was from two different guns. Nothing in the living room was broken. It looks like the people who fired the guns were pretty used to using guns. We found blood traces, this blood came from two people. The first person whose blood was found, was LeFric’s. The other person is still unknown, but it’s quite certain that it’s a female. One of the neighbours saw a teenage girl standing in LeFric’s front yard on the day LeFric dissappeared. She was blond, between the age of 16 and 18 and wore traditional clothing. We also found some hair in LeFric’s mansion of a person who seems to be the mother of this girl. All we know of her is that she has ginger hair and wears extentions. We also found DNA of several other people. Some of them have been identified, but I think we have to fix on these two women. They probably have something to do with the vanishing of LeFric. I think they kidnapped her. In that case I'd like to ask them to get in touch with the police as fast as possible. They won't be punished. Just bring Evi to the police station. You won't be harmed, even better, you will probably get awarded for this.”

    And then there is still the uncertainty. Thousands of people with a family member or a friend gone missing are waiting for the moment when they can know for certain if their loved one had become a victim of LeFric. One of these people is Susie Thorsen. Her son Nick turned missing in 1990. He went to middle school with Evi and the Thorsens lived a block away from the LeFrics. Susie: “I knew Evi as a young teenage girl. She was pretty normal back then. She dressed like everybody else. She did have some giant nostrils, how can you forget those? I thought she was a pretty freaky girl, me and my family always called her ‘Evil ‘n’ Freaky’. I mean, it sounds the same, right? Nick had to rescue a couple of children from Evi. She beat lots of children up and this one time she dug a whole in the ground, pushed a girl into it and filled the whole with cement. It was a terrible child. Evi and Nick were constantly in a fight. But funny enough, when Nick went missing I didn’t think that Evi had something to do with it. I thought that if someone kidnaped him, it must have been a padeophile of some sort, I wasn’t thinking about Evi. But now that it turns out that Evi killed so many people, it seems like she might have had something to do with it after all. I also got this message that they found DNA of Nick’s in LeFric’s basement! They didn’t find his body, by the way. Maybe she dumped it somewhere. It’s strange though, the cops said that they found some desquamated skin in the basement, so it can’t have been a long time ago since he was there! Oh well, let’s hope that he escaped. The basement door was open when they found the dead people in the attic, so I think he escaped. In that case it would be just like with that Kampusch girl a few years ago, you know, that Austrian girl who escaped from her kidnapper after eight years! I’d love to see Nick again. But know knows she killed him anyway and she stuffed him, like she stuffed her aunt and uncle. I miss him.”

    But what if your loved one has been killed by Evi LeFric? This is what Ember Sterling went through. She was one of the first people who got to know that one of their loved ones, in this case her brother Brain, was killed by Evi LeFric. Did she this coming? Ember: “My brother was killed by Evi two years ago. For the last four years Evi kept a diary in which she wrote down the things she knew about her victims, if she knew who they were. Brain’s name was found in it as well. Evi tortured him in her basement for a week and when he was dead, she turned him into four pairs of shoes and a coffee table. I didn’t see this coming at all. Seven years ago Brain and the rest of the family got in a terrible fight and after that she just broke all contact. Brain died on the 27th of May and ironically enough I wanted to get in touch with him a few weeks afterwards, because I just got engaged. I was about to get married at the end of the year and I wanted the whole family to be together at the wedding, including Brain. So I went to his house and I asked his landlord if I could talk to Brain. The landlord hadn’t seen Brain for a while and he thought he was on a holiday or something. He said that he’d contact me when Brain was home again. I haven’t heard anything from him ever since, of course. It’s kind of creepy, actually. I’m feeling so sorry for the fact that I didn’t try to get in touch with Brain earlier. In that case still he might have been alive.”

    The question is where Evi LeFric is at the moment. Right now, we can only guess. Got any suggestions? Marjorie Cash: “I hope she’s somewhere far away. My intuition says she’s in Eastern Europe. Transylvania or something. Transylvania suits her.” Casper Cash: “I’d rather see her go to Japan, get herself some more gadgets for on her robot suit.” Natasha Cash: “I have no clue where Evi could be, it must be some godless place. Amsterdam, maybe.” Mr. Williams: “I think she went to sail the world. She has the perfect spirit for that. So right now she’s probably sitting on a boat in the Pacific. I’m absolutely sure!” Milly MacDonald: “I think she finally found a victim who’s to strong or too smart for her and that she’s being kept hostage herself now.” Art school teacher: “I think she committed suicide. I can’t believe that someone who took care of her secrets that well suddenly goes away and left everything behind carelessly. I think she came to her senses and saw what horrible things she had done.” Detective: “Evi LeFric has been kidnapped by a young woman between the age of 16 and 18 with medium ash blond hair, wearing traditional clothing. She has probably a lot of experience with using a gun. She is approximately 5'3 tall. She got help from her mother, a woman with red hair and extentions. The neighbours haven't seen her. There were two cars involved. One of them was a Mercedes-Benz from the early seventies with a blue paintjob. The other car was a Ford Expedition with a silver paintjob and new tires. Evi was probably transported with the Ford Expedition, as we found LeFric's blood leading to the traces of this car. There were also two other people involved. All we now of them is that these people are a man and a woman. We also found the traces of a fifth person who might be involves, this was a man as well. All we know if him is that he's very tall, approximately 6'5.” Neighbour Janet Philips: “Mexico. Why? It’s just around the corner. If she wants to, she can just run over there, no problem.” Joachim Barber: “She must be hiding out with a very good friend. Not me. The police already investigated my house.” Gabrielle Grendel: “South America. That’s where criminals from movies go to when they try to get away. Or maybe she's dead. Maybe her robot suit got hyperactive and electrocuted her. But in that case there would be a body. Does Evi have a dog that enjoys eating human flesh?” Susie Thorsen: “I hope she’s on a desert island.” Ember Sterling: “I don’t know Evi LeFric personally, so I can’t possibly know.”
    To those who wonder what happened to Evi LeFric: she was shot in the head by the daughter of Gabrielle Grendel, so the detective was right (the daughter is blond, she's 14 but she looks older and she wears traditional clothing, Gabrielle is ginger and wears extentions, they went with an old Mercedes-Benz). They got help from their butler, who's very tall. The body of Evi LeFric was sold to a couple that practices necrophilia and cannibalism (they own the silver SUV). They were asked to keep the head, because it might come in useful, according to Gabrielle Grendel's daughter. The head is being brought to the police by Grendel's daughter, after she was caught using drugs by a policeman. In return for the head, Grendel's daughter would remain unpunished. Grendel knows about it and supports her daughter, because she was the first to recognize the smell of decomposing bodies in LeFric's mansion (Grendel's daughter first learned about this smell after a field trip to the mortuary when she was seven and never forgot about it).


    I hope at least somebody likes this. I forgot to mention some details about LeFric (example: she ws keeping a baby in her basement, which she wanted to raise to be her slave, using Pavlov's theory, this baby was kidnapped). Evi LeFric was based on two people (one real person, someone I went to school with, named LeFric after her, and Cruella de Vil, whom I studied a lot in order to make LeFric). I added some stuff I read in a book on serial killers and a tiny little bit of my own imagination.
    I was sitting outside the classroom waiting to go in, and I saw an airplane hit the tower. The TV was obviously on. I used to fly myself and I said, "There's one terrible pilot."
    - George W. Bush -


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  4. #134
    The Duchess of Oddity Queen Kat's Avatar
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    No likies? Boohoo. Does anyone have any idea how much time I spent translating it and putting everything in an American context? Oh well, screw me for being lifeless.


    ... Indeed. No likies. Everybody hates me.
    I was sitting outside the classroom waiting to go in, and I saw an airplane hit the tower. The TV was obviously on. I used to fly myself and I said, "There's one terrible pilot."
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  5. #135
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    Quote Originally Posted by Queen Kat View Post
    No likies. Everybody hates me.
    Wrong, and wrong again.

    I can still say that I've enjoyed everything that's been posted, by everyone. Special appreciation to you for the time and effort necessary to translate.
    Naked to unknown forces, fortune evades mere understanding. The trial of effort.
    The dream of change. Such a place might Hell be to thought and action.
    [SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]

  6. #136
    The Duchess of Oddity Queen Kat's Avatar
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    Already posted this one in Random Thoughts. I wrote it in a minute. It's my first rhyme in ages.

    A Dirty Mind
    Having a dirty mind
    Is not exactly kind
    It causes lots and lots of pain
    So could you please wash my brain?
    I was sitting outside the classroom waiting to go in, and I saw an airplane hit the tower. The TV was obviously on. I used to fly myself and I said, "There's one terrible pilot."
    - George W. Bush -


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  7. #137

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    THE COCKBLOCKER CHRONICLES

    I just watched my favorite football team blow a chance to go to the Super Bowl. They had a perfect opportunity to win in the waning seconds but didn’t get it done. They’re a young and talented team, and in all likelihood they’ll have other chances in coming seasons. But the future is never guaranteed. You need to seize the moment like it’s a last dying gasp. The gnawing uncertainty of getting a second chance is a killer.

    Which brings me to this. It all happened at the wrap party for the movie I had just worked on. These tend to be restrained affairs, seeing as how no one wants to be the drunk asshole who isn’t asked back on the next job. Don’t get me wrong - people have fun, but by and large they’re also very aware of the impression they make.

    This one was different. The hall, the food, the decor, the vibe…it was all great. And a Beatles cover band played happy songs everyone knew. I also happened to work with my friends, which made it better. My friend J brought a girl named KP as his platonic date. KP had worked with us a few times, and so it was natural for him to bring her along. I had always had a major crush on KP. She was impossibly cute with big brown eyes and spoke in a Texas drawl that made it sound like she had a honey-glazed tongue. She was also one of the most genuine, kindhearted people I’d met in Los Angeles. If you live here, you know how precious that can be.

    The party was well underway (as was my buzz) when KP came over and grabbed my arm. “Come on, we’re going to dance!” she said. Now, gentle reader, lest you misunderstand what is to come, let me give you an idea of my feelings on dancing. I don’t do it. Seriously. I’m way too shy and self-conscious to engage in something so carefree. Slow dancing is one thing. I can get away with swaying from side to side without looking stupid. But fast dancing is just the most terrifying experience I can imagine. I can count the number of times I’ve done it on one hand and have enough fingers left over to type this story at a pretty good clip. And those few times I did do it, I was lubricated by enough beer to drown a horse. Allow me to explain what happens in my brain when I’m dancing. Imagine that you are on the dance floor among a crowd of people. Further imagine that not only are you in your underwear, but that your underwear is Wonder Woman Underoos. With a tear in the back. Under a spotlight. Now multiply that by ten, and you’re getting close to the abject fear involved here.

    But I digress. KP was dragging me onto the dance floor. Amazingly, I went. Sure, I’d had a few. And sure, who doesn’t feel like shaking something when “Can’t Buy Me Love” is playing? But this was still a big deal. And when I got out there, I actually found myself enjoying it. I’m sure that it was mostly because KP was paying attention to me. But I did notice with relief that no one else was paying attention to me. And as one song turned into the next, I was really having a good time. It was the same kind of thrill mixed with fear that makes people wait in line two hours for a roller coaster. She had watched me dance for a good twenty minutes and hadn’t either recoiled in horror or looked over my shoulder and seen a phantom friend that she had to say hello to. This was big.

    The band took a break and we went to get a drink. J saw us at the bar and asked us if we wanted to come up to the second floor with him where it was quieter to take a break. We went upstairs to the balcony, as this party was being held at an old theater, and we discovered that we were the only ones up there. When we sat down on one of the plush couches strewn about, J planted himself squarely between us. The conversation was animated and vaguely philosophical, as conversations tend to be when the participants are shit-faced. The talk revolved around how when WE had some clout in this town, things would be done differently! I was giddily on the verge of a perfectly logical utopian vision of Hollywood when J realized that KP and I were leaning over him to talk. Before long he was playing the Berlin Wall to my awakening libido’s East Germany. Yet there he stayed, the self-appointed last line of defense for KP’s virtue. Now, I would normally applaud this. As sexist as this may sound, I’m a big fan of keeping assholes away from nice girls. But J was my friend. A relatively new friend to be sure, but still my friend. And I don’t happen to be an asshole. A woman’s virtue is safer with me than a plate of broccoli is at a pie-eating contest. In my head, this was as clear as if I were wearing a giant scarlet ‘H’ for Harmless. But maybe J didn’t know me well enough to know this. Frankly, I wasn’t in the mood to give him the benefit of the doubt.

    Despite conducting our first giggly get-to-know-you-better conversation in front of a militant chaperone, KP and I managed to elude J long enough to go downstairs and dance some more. By now, I was having the best time I could remember having in years. I was floating on air. It says a lot about me, I fear, that a few hours’ attention from an attractive female can put me in such a state. But I was in the moment and loving it. I had even managed to overlook the disturbing fact that when the band ripped into “Got To Get You Into My Life”, she said she didn’t know the song. When the band took another break, we parted for a while and retreated to our respective corners to chat with our friends. Then the defining moment of the evening was upon me.

    The band announced the last song, and it was “Hey Jude”. I was in mid-sentence when KP ran over and grabbed my hand, pulling me onto the floor with an insistent “Come oooooooon!” much to the amusement of my friends. As we settled into our first slow dance, I had an overwhelming feeling that this was right. She was looking up at me with those big brown eyes and a smile, and I was Jello.

    And then it all went inexplicably, astoundingly wrong.

    I didn’t kiss her.

    It felt like the time was right for a kiss. And if I am aware of this, then every pair of eyes in the place must have been focused on me, wondering “why the hell isn’t that knucklehead kissing that girl?” Even a dopey romantic movie would have known enough to have a kiss here, no doubt set to a schmaltzy ballad by a veteran of the Mickey Mouse Club. How then, you might ask, did this fail to happen? In nearly every aspect of my life, I’m strong in the clutch, saving my best for when it’s needed. When it comes to women though, I’m a big time choker. I never have the fortitude to close the deal. I can describe to you in painful detail every instance in which I’ve failed to kiss a girl that was eminently kissable, from the time I first started to think girls weren’t so icky right up until this shameful debacle. I often wonder how many women that I thought the world of didn’t know I was interested because I didn’t kiss them. I took this one to the moment of truth, and came up short yet again.

    Yet somehow, when the party ended I still had a puncher’s chance. We huddled with our friends to see what was happening next. Fortune was about to smile on me and give me yet another opportunity. Our group was going to go to my friend and boss R’s house to wind down with a nightcap. But KP wanted to go home, and didn’t feel she was in a condition to drive. So for once in my life, I stepped up. Even at this early stage, I was aware of the blunder of the non-kiss, and I was prepared to fix it. You should have been in my brain. I was so proud of myself in advance for what I was about to suggest. I selflessly volunteered to pass up drinks at R’s to take KP home.

    This immediately set off J’s radar. “I don’t really feel like going over there either. Why don’t all three of us go to KP’s place and have something to eat?” I assured him that this wasn’t necessary. “It’s okay, I’ll take her, there’s no reason we should both miss the fun.” I can’t be certain, but I think a threatening tone crept into my voice. I knew exactly what he was doing, and I strongly resented the fact that I was considered a danger. My mind flashed back to every bad TV movie about date rape, and I thought, “Is that what he thinks I am?” My intentions were honorable. I just wanted to take her home, make her something good to eat, and maybe suck her face off. J didn’t care though, as evidenced by his absolutely brilliant reply. “I’m not sure I should drive. Why don’t we all go to KP’s place in your car? By the time we leave, I’m sure I’ll be fine and you can bring me back to my car.” The guy was slick. No wonder he went to Yale. He had cleverly made it impossible for me to take KP home alone, lest I appear the type that would make a drunk guy drive in order to get some action.

    So thus we went, the ingénue, the eunuch, and the human chastity belt, off to see the fucking Wizard. On the way there, KP turned the radio up loud and started singing. She can’t sing, which made it even cuter. However, J insisted on talking over her and thoroughly ruining the charm of the situation. I briefly considered telling him to undo his seatbelt so that I might crash into a telephone pole and send him through the windshield.

    When we arrived, they both claimed to be ravenous, but it was too late to order anything. So I was soon enlisted to cook. It’s a well known fact among my friends that I know my way around the kitchen, mostly from the various desserts I’d bring into work on Fridays to help ensure that I’d still have a job on Monday. I rummaged through KP’s refrigerator and discovered that it was emptier than a Russian grocery store. I found a carton of egg whites, salad fixings, salsa, a bag of shredded cheese, some condiments that shared their prime years with The Doobie Brothers, and the ubiquitous bottled water. I have a pet theory that females under the age of 40 in Los Angeles live in constant fear of a contaminated water supply.

    It’s a testament to either my lameness or my true love of cooking that for the moment the biggest challenge in my life was not how to get rid of J, but how to assemble these meager ingredients into a kickass dish. I quickly decided that the egg whites dictated an omelette. Mushrooms, peppers and cheese inside with a dollop of salsa on top. Seeing as I don’t like mushrooms and I don’t like salsa on eggs, I did not partake of the feast. But J practically had an orgasm on the spot. Too bad I wasn’t hot for him instead. KP also had lavish praise for me, and I replied by saying “Well, I’ll have to cook dinner for you sometime.” She responded by saying “Oh my God, yes!” Damn, I’m smooth.

    After the meal, we sat around talking that end of the night talk, which is to say we had exhausted our daily allotment of wit and insight earlier in the evening. Soon it was time to go, and KP bade us goodbye with hugs. I also snuck in a kiss on the cheek, which I felt was more than appropriate, if not an admission of defeat. On the drive back to J’s car, he kept up a lively patter, apparently ignorant of my silent seething. I proceeded home with my radio on full blast, filled to bursting with the conflicting emotions of triumph and regret.

    Monday morning came and of course the topic of the day at work was the party. Just as the conversation had petered out and I thought I was going to escape unscathed, out it came from the mouth of R, my boss. “So, WWW, what’s up with you and KP?” Suddenly a chorus of ‘ooooooohs’ filled the room as if two characters on a WB sitcom had just kissed. I told the Reader’s Digest version of the story, and R turned to J and said with perfect timing, “You cockblocker!” The entire bullpen practically fell off their chairs laughing except J. That was his nickname for at least a week. Later that day I asked him for KP’s number. He asked me why I didn’t ask her for it. I wanted to say, “Because you wouldn’t leave us alone long enough to exchange so much as an area code!” but didn’t, seeing as how he had something I wanted. He seemed reluctant to give it to me, but he eventually did. Maybe he felt a slight twinge of guilt. In any case, I was certain that he would soon tell her the call was coming and then warn her that I had been seen in the company of Chris Hansen and a phalanx of TV cameras.

    I waited until Tuesday to call her. I needed two days to summon the courage. After all, I had managed to live a good number of years on this Earth without calling up a girl on the phone and asking her on a proper date. I had always just fallen into dating my friends; promoting from within was my policy. So I dialed the number and waited about an ice age (or three rings) for her to pick up the phone. I started off strong, I really did. I told her what a great time I had, and we talked about what a great party it was, and she again complimented me on my culinary skills. “This is it,” I remember thinking. “It’s in the bag.” Now, it seems obvious that after a little warmup, you go right to the reason you’re calling, and ask her out. But I kept on blabbering away about God knows what. And after about 15 minutes, she said that she and her roommate were watching a movie, and could she call me the next day? “Of course”, I said, and I gave her my number. In retrospect, 15 minutes was a very generous amount of time on her part to give to a guy that obviously has no idea why he’s even on the phone. Amazingly, she did call me back the next night while I was still at work. When I got the message and called her, she was out. We played phone tag for a few days, and then I just sort of resigned myself to my fate and gave up. I knew when I was beaten. I heard that a few months later she moved to San Francisco. I never saw her again after the night of the party.

    It’s clear why I thought of this story after watching that football game. Another chance is never guaranteed. In fact, I got two chances and still came up wanting. I could very easily blame J the cockblocker for this, and in fact I did for a long time. Everyone else did too. It would have been easy to leave it at that. But he only prevented me from taking her home. He didn’t stop me from kissing her when she should have been good and kissed. He didn’t bungle what should have been a simple five-minute phone call. Sure, he didn’t help any. Maybe if I had been able to take her home by myself, things would have been different. But I had my chances. This was my fault.

    Then again, maybe she was just drunk and playful that night.

    But I’m never going to know, am I?
    Everybody have fun tonight. Everybody Wang Chung tonight.

    Johari
    /Nohari

  8. #138
    The Duchess of Oddity Queen Kat's Avatar
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    A piece of dialogue for my big project. Translated it. It needs to be polished, though. I came up with it today and it seemed to much more vivid in my imagination. Situation: today the main character went to visit her daughter's teacher, mister Van Dijk, along with her butler, Theodore. The main character caught mister Van Dijk when he tried to have sex with daughter Jowie and now the main character wanted to have a talk with him, to convince him not to do it again. While at mister Van Dijk's house, the main character discovers that mister Van Dijk had invited his friends to beat her and her butler up. Jowie secretly followed them, saw what was going on, broke in to mister van Dijk's house and started throwing ninja stars all over the place to protect her mother and her butler. Now they're back at home, and the main character wants a bit of rest. She goes to bed and then she hears someone knocking at the door. She assumes it's her son Benny, who visits her pretty often at night, just to have a talk, because he suffers from insomnia a lot and finds this calming.

    After a hard day like this I went to bed. I put on my sleeping mask and hoped I would fall asleep as soon as possible. I also hoped that I wouldn’t get aweful nightmares about mister Van Dijk raping my ass in his SM room. Good lord, did that good little christian boy turn into a creepy old man! I couldn’t really fall asleep. I heard all this noise outside my bedroom and I couldn’t exactly place it. All of the sudden I heard someone knocking on my door. Oh dear, was Benny having a rough night again.
    “Errr, are you asleep?”
    “Wait a second, you’re not Benny!”
    “No, it’s me, Theodore.”
    “Oh, hey Theodore. What brings you here?”
    “I realized I had to tell you something.”
    “What?”
    “Well, I don’t dye my hair and my beard for no reason.”
    “I know, it’s because you’re getting grey and you’re pretty vain for an ex homeless guy.”
    “Indeed, that why I dye my hair and my beard. But it also has another reason.”
    “Don’t tell me you’re going to join a pageant.”
    “No, it’s because I have a crush on you.”
    “Are you kidding me?”
    “Nope. I’m not. Guess why I spent most of my holiday budget on that super expensive perfume I gave you for your birthday. I have a big crush on you. The first one since my Irene died, I tell you. I think I love you.”
    “How drunk are you, Theodore?”
    “I’m completely sober, believe me. I have such a huge crush on you I jerk off to your pictures or when I don’t have them around I imagine you naked.”
    “What?”
    “I imagine us having a threesome with Irene.”
    “Okay, okay, too much information! I don’t need to know!”
    “I’m sorry, I have to tell you!”
    “Oh, shut up!”
    “I have no choice. Jowie is holding a gun to my head.”
    I turned on my bed light and removed my sleeping mask. Theodore is standing right next to my bed. Jowie’s standing next to him, holding her gun to Theodore’s head.
    “Jowie! What did I tell you about that gun?”
    “That it’s okay to shoot serial killers and potential rapists with it?”
    “Now tell me, is Theodore a serial killer or a potential rapist, yes or no?”
    “No, I mean, I don’t know, maybe.”
    “That’s not enough. Give that gun to me.”
    “No!”
    “Give that gun to me, Jowie!”
    “No! It’s mine!”
    “Not anymore. You’re not supposed to hold that gun to your butler’s head.”
    “But I just couldn’t take it anymore!”
    “Couldn’t take what anymore?”
    “That he didn’t tell you!”
    “I don’t need to know if anybody has any fantasies about me in their masturbation ritual, thank you very much.”
    “He’s in love with you and he doesn’t tell you! It’s so unfair!”
    “He told me now, okay?”
    “Okay.”
    “So give me the gun. You can’t carry a gun for a week. That’s what you get with this kind of behaviour, young lady.”
    “But what if mister Van Dijk wants to have sex with me again?”
    “I think you already scared him away today with those ninja stars of yours.”
    “But what if someone tries to kidnap me and take me away to Thailand?”
    “In that case you’ll get to know the world a little better.”
    “But then they’ll put me in a brothel!”
    I saw the panic in Jowie’s eyes. God damn, she’s such a good actress.
    “Okay then, keep the gun then. But only use it when you really need it.”
    “Okay mommy.”
    “And Theodore, give me back those pictures.”
    Theodore sighed, grabbed in his back pocket and gave me the pictures. Thank God, he kept them nice and clean.
    “And now get out. I want to catch some sleep.”
    Jowie and Theodore left my room. I turned the light off and but my sleeping mask back on. Good lord, I guess I created a monster.
    I was sitting outside the classroom waiting to go in, and I saw an airplane hit the tower. The TV was obviously on. I used to fly myself and I said, "There's one terrible pilot."
    - George W. Bush -


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  9. #139
    The Duchess of Oddity Queen Kat's Avatar
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    “Hey, what was school like today?"
    “It was okay.”
    “I looked inside your agenda and I saw you had a vocabulary test for Ancient Greek today. I haven't seen you study at all!”
    “That's because I studied in my room.”
    “I don't believe a word you say! What the hell are you thinking, that you don't need to learn at all? That you can just fuck high school, not go to college and become a model? Well, surprise! You're not a beauty, so you don't even have to think about having a modelling career. Besides, what designer wants an overweight model to show their clothing?”
    “Dad, I weight 125 pounds. Together with a length of 5'4 it makes a BMI of 22. That's a perfectly healthy BMI.”
    “You've been waqtching way too many Dove commercials. It's not about BMI. That's bullshit made up by farmers the health industry. It's all about fitting in size zero. You're not a size zeri. So don't make a fucking scene, you spoiled brat!”
    “I don't want to become a model. Are you trying to get me anorexic or something?”
    “Not at all! I'm just saying that you're too fat and too ugly to become a model and that you have to study for your Greek vocabulary!”
    “I got my grade back. Wanna know?”
    “An F?”
    “An A. I'm fucking good at Greek.”
    “What kind of school is this?! I can't believe they're just handing out high grades just like that to pupils who haven't even studied. Unfilmable. I'm going to have a word with your Greek teacher! What's his name?”
    “Immanuel Backdoors.”
    “Well, go and tell Immanuel Backdoors that I'm going to visit him next Tuesday to discuss that ridiculous grade of yours! An A for a pupil who hasn't studied, where is this world going to? It always starts with something like this! But in a few years I'll be in an old people's home and then I'll have nobody to whipe my fucking ass because they gave all the dumb kids these high grades! And what then? Then the socialists start terrorizing the country with dumb campaigns starring naked old bitches about how bad healthcare is these days. I'm sorry, Karl Marx, too late! There is no going back, this world is way too fucked up! That's what you get when you don't teach and punish your youngsters properly!”
    “Mister Backdoors is free on Tuesdays.”
    “What?!”
    “Mister Backdoors has every Tuesday off. He doesn't have to teach then.”
    “Tell me you're kidding me! I thought that teachers were supposed to be hard working citizens like the rest of us! Truely unbelieveable.”
    I was sitting outside the classroom waiting to go in, and I saw an airplane hit the tower. The TV was obviously on. I used to fly myself and I said, "There's one terrible pilot."
    - George W. Bush -


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  10. #140
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    Here's a fun one I did about when I was a kid....
    One of my favorite stories from my childhood occurred when I was in the 6th grade. At the time I was going to Mary Snow Elementary School in Bangor. All of the teachers there taught the same grade every year. My brother was a year ahead of me so every time I started a new year I was following in his footsteps, because I had the same teacher he had the previous year. He apparently was not the greatest student because they would always look at me like they were about to relive the past year. For the most part, I must have done alright because by the end of the year I wasn’t looked at the same way. Then I entered the 6th grade and met Mrs. Carey.

    Mrs. Carey did something every year with each new group of students to try to teach them about money. She had fake money to be doled out to students for work they do. The “money” was along the same lines as Monopoly money. This money could be earned by performing tasks which were assigned by Mrs. Carey. My job was to wipe the chalkboards clean at the end of the school day. For this, I was to be “paid” $10/week. Other kids were paid more and some were paid less, it all depended on which job they were assigned, we didn’t get to pick or “apply” for spots. The purpose of this was to teach us about money. We were supposed to buy our own school supplies with this money to learn how to protect our resources by not wasting stuff we would normally take for granted. (Full disclosure: she bought these items with her own real money and brought them to our class). Some of the prices were $1 for two pencils, $2 for a pen, 10 sheets of paper for $2, etc. Extra money could be used throughout the project to buy awards. I forget now what the awards were. The only two I remember was being able to eat snacks during class and getting extra time for recess. I didn’t care about the snack one and I really had no interest in getting an extra 15 minutes of recess…what was I going to do? Sit outside alone for that time? No thanks! I don’t think the other kids thought the way I did. They all thought that stuff was pretty cool.

    We were on a normal adult schedule of being paid at the end of the week, every Friday. At the start of the year Mrs. Carey passed out an envelope to each kid and told us all to keep care of it, our “pay” would be put into the envelope. We couldn’t get paid if we didn’t have it. Well, it didn’t take long for me to lose mine. I have a tendency to be cluttered and usually just leave things where they are when I’m done with them. I told Mrs. Carey that I couldn’t find my envelope and asked what I could do to fix things. The answer I was given was that the only way to fix it was to find my envelope, but I would have to continue doing my job. I continued to clean the chalkboards for the week. Friday came and I was told that I couldn’t be paid because I didn’t have my envelope.

    In hindsight, I suppose I should have just spent a nickel and bought a new envelope on my own. That never occurred to me, but here’s the story of what I did:

    Despite being told that I would not be paid for my work, I continued to clean the chalkboards albeit with a bit less effort than I would normally put into it. Once again, Friday came and I received no pay because I didn’t have “the envelope”. I was then told that I wasn’t being paid because the boards were not being cleaned as well as they should be. At this point, I should have gotten upset. I had already been given two different answers as to why I wouldn’t be paid for my services. Instead, I went home to think about how to solve my problem. I even asked my brother since he had been through the same class the year before. My brother and I didn’t really get along too well so he was not much help. He wouldn’t tell me anything. I never would have guessed that a day of the week could assist a 10 year old with his problems but Saturday turned out to be much more helpful.

    Saturday was the day that my mom drove me and my brother to the Bangor Mall. It was also the day I was paid my allowance for doing household chores. Every week I was given $2.00 for the chores I completed at home and I also had a job cleaning an office for $5.00. So on this particular Saturday, I walked into the mall with $7 in my pocket. The first stop for me was always the CVS pharmacy store. I didn’t need any prescriptions but that was the only store that sold MAD magazine, my favorite mag at the time. Right next to the magazine rack was the candy section. For a 10 year old kid, putting the candy next to Mad magazine was a great idea. By the way, this particular aisle was the middle one that is wider than the others so they can stuff all the sale items in the open space. Normally I didn’t pay much attention to any of them, but this week I happened to notice that the sale was for school supplies. Suddenly, a great idea occurred to me.

    CVS was selling 3 ten-packs of pencils for a dollar, 1 ten-pack of pens for a dollar, and 100 sheet packs of paper for a dollar. My first priority was the Mad magazine, then was the candy. Mad was 75 cents and I bought less candy than I normally would. After those, I ended up with almost $5 worth of the school supplies. I didn’t have much fun with that for the rest of the weekend but I sure was happy when Monday rolled around.

    Every morning before class started, Mrs. Carey asked if anybody needed to buy supplies. On any given day a line would form to “purchase” any items that kids might need. This particular Monday, though, nobody lined up. It seems there was somebody outside selling the same supplies for half price. Not in real money, but her class money. To this day I have no idea who told her about it but she was not in the least bit amused. She demanded to know who was outside selling the items that the class was supposed to be buying from her. Without hesitation I stood up and told her that it was me. I explained that since I was not going to be paid I would have to come up with my own way of getting her “money”. I knew there were no specific rules against what I was doing, but she told me that it was to stop immediately. I told her that I would and later that afternoon I was back cleaning the chalkboards.

    Most of the kids in my class walked to school so after classes let out for the day, we would hang out in the playground and play kickball. After I finished cleaning the boards I went out to join the group. The following morning I arrived at school as usual. In the morning the game of choice was wallyball. There we were playing and having fun when I noticed a teacher outside watching over everyone. It was Mrs. Carey, there to make sure that I was not trying to undermine her class project. When the school bell rang, she pulled me aside and said she was glad I was not out there causing trouble. Without giving details, I told her that I had no more items to sell. When we finally all made it to our desks, Mrs. Carey stood up and asked if anyone needed to buy any supplies for the day. Once again nobody got in line. It seems there was somebody on the kickball field yesterday afternoon selling school supplies for less than the going rate. This was when I was introduced to the concept of detention.

    I don’t know what detention is like these days but Mrs. Carey had old-fashioned ideas. I had to write 50 times on the chalkboard “I will not sell school supplies outside of class”. I had to do that for the rest of the week. At the time I didn’t know what irony meant but I thought it was funny that I had to write all that on the chalkboard and then be responsible for cleaning it off. Wow, I was mad. I was not going to give up this easy having to do that without being paid for it. The war was on.

    After four days of dirtying then cleaning the boards, Saturday finally arrived. Once again I found myself at CVS to buy Mad magazine and candy. Mad is a monthly mag (so I already had the newest edition), and I skipped the candy aisle. I took my $7 and went straight for the school supplies, which had been replaced in the middle aisle by Christmas stuff. I was still able to buy plenty of good stuff though. I walked out with pens, pencils, a whole bunch of paper and was able to move into erasers and a binder notebook. When Monday morning came I was outside playing wallyball, not selling my new items. During the day there were periods when we were allowed to freely move around the classroom. That’s when I went into action. I spent all my free time discreetly letting everyone know that I was still in business, in fact I had even moved up into bigger items. Less than a week later I was re-introduced to the concept of detention.

    Despite my argument that I wasn’t selling stuff outside of the classroom, I still had to stay late. However, this time I didn’t have to write on the chalkboard…was I getting through to her? I thought maybe I was and then I got my new assignment. I was to clean out my desk during my after-school time. As I mentioned before I have a tendency to be a bit cluttered and I was even worse at 10 years old. This task proved to be more formidable than the previous one. Not only did I have to take everything out, but she would be right there with me and I was to explain what was in there. I figured this wouldn’t be a problem, since it was nothing more than notes from our classes. I’m not sure why my Christmas wish list was at the front but she was not impressed that that was the first thing I pulled from my desk. I was a good student even though I didn’t really take notes like I was supposed to. Most of it was doodling. As for the notes I did have, I was able to explain them all and how they applied to our lessons. I think I was making some ground towards turning her to my side. Unfortunately, to say my desk was messy would be an understatement. I would have to do it again the next day. At the end of the second hour of pulling out single pieces of paper and explaining what was written on them, I was almost to the back of the desk. I was near the end. That’s when I saw it…a small manila package. Could that be my “envelope”? I really didn’t think so; it had been so long since I had seen it. Yet, there it was just sitting waiting for me to pick it up and do things like I was supposed to. The envelope may as well as have had Mrs. Carey’s name printed on it because I could tell that she seemed relieved that maybe things had been resolved and class could be resumed as planned. I, however, had other ideas.

    It had only been two weeks since I thought of my money-making plan and I already had more than anyone else in the class. Now I also had my envelope so I would actually be paid for work that I did. At this point I think Mrs. Carey grew accustomed to what I had been doing to make money, even though I knew she was still mad about it. There were no more eyes watching over me and she actually told me she liked my ingenuity and had maybe learned something herself. I won’t say she encouraged what I was doing but she no longer tried to stop it. Would there finally be peace at Mary Snow Elementary School?

    Two more weeks went by and all was well. I continued buying supplies on my own. Of course it would be slightly interrupted by the purchase of the new Mad magazine, I had given up buying candy by now. Another new interest I had was baseball cards. I wanted to spend my real money on those but had to figure a way to support that and my school money issues. Because of the prices I was selling my stuff for, I soon had Mrs. Carey offering her goods only twice per week instead of everyday. I also had amassed a small “fortune” for myself. I knew all the other kids were spending their allowances on real life stuff and buying all their school stuff from me. I figured it was the right time for a price hike. I knew I couldn’t go higher than Mrs. Carey’s prices so I only raised them a small amount. In the meantime, what the other kids weren’t giving to me they were spending on stupid stuff like eating snacks in class. For some reason they thought that was cool and fun. I didn’t care.

    Two weeks of this went by and I was starting to grow tired of the game I was playing; without the controversy it just wasn’t much fun. Also, I wanted baseball cards, not school supplies. I decided it was time to close up shop. That Saturday at CVS I knew it was over. I had proven my point and wanted to move on. I spent my whole $7 on baseball cards and had a great time for the first weekend I could remember. I savored the moment of opening each new pack. Some packs I just tore right into, others were opened so slowly and carefully one might think they had glass in them. (Ok, so it wasn’t glass, but all the packs contained that pink thing that they called gum. It sure shattered like glass, even in the heat of mid-summer!). When that was done, I sorted the cards in every way imaginable. I didn’t worry about what Monday might bring.

    What Monday brought was more than I could have imagined. All weekend I was obsessed with my new baseball cards. Come Monday, when Mrs. Carey stood to ask if anyone needed supplies…again nobody stood up. Her exercise in teaching us about money was near an end (there were 5 weeks left) and I had most of the “money” she had been giving out. I suddenly remembered that and stood right up. I opened my desk and took out the money I had earned by undermining her ideals. I bought all of what she had left, which wasn’t much. At this point I was also tired of cleaning the chalkboards and knowing that no one else had much money I decided to hire the job out. As I mentioned at the start we were all assigned jobs that we would be paid to perform. I realized that there were no rules stating who had to perform them, so I offered other kids $5/week to clean the chalkboards for me. Because the job earned $10/week, I was still getting the other $5 and didn’t have to do any work. I thought that was pretty cool.

    With two weeks remaining for the project I ran out of the last of the school supplies I had bought from Mrs. Carey. I still had way more money than the other kids and wasn’t buying any of the junk prizes she had been offering. The week went by without incident and I got my pay on Friday. Of course I had to pay the kid that did my work, but going into the last week I was the clear winner of the exercise. The Monday morning of our final week Mrs. Carey announced that new prizes were being brought in to bid on in an auction. I forget what most of the things were, but there were baseball cards. I knew what I was going to spend my money on come Friday. Needless to say, I bought all that she had in the prize pool. I think I must have maybe given the rest to my friends so they could get stuff too. I don’t remember walking away with anything else and that sounds like something I might do. A few weeks after the project ended it was the end of the school year. When we received our report cards we were also given the assignment of which junior high school we would be attending the following year. I thought that Mrs. Carey had begrudgingly admired what I had done during her project. However, when I announced that I would be moving on to Garland St. Jr. High School, I looked over at her and was confused by the look on her face. I was expecting a look of pride or some other expression of approval. I think it was more of what I would now call a sigh, but not a sigh like she was going to miss me. No, it was definitely a sigh of relief.
    I'm never wrong, I'm just sometimes less right

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