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deathchrist2000 · 7 years

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The Eyes of Her Double

A Clara Oswald/Faction Paradox fan fiction.

Inevitably, Clara O’Winn found that looking at the ceiling was not a good way to mute out the muffled screams of her double. It wasn’t so much because she couldn’t come up with many inventive ideas from the ceiling to distract her; she had long since perfected this method of avoidance and had already created several inventive story ideas, as well as a few fan fiction prompts, from the patterns the Styrofoam alone (her favorite involved Captain Picard, the NCC-2260, and Gok’ū, leader of the Tribbles). Nor was it because she wasn’t able to ignore the terrible screams her double made. She was a child of the early 21st century, an era where those who can ignore a terrible situation will and those who can’t die. Or get called a “faggot Ess-Jew snowflake.”

Not even the sounds of the screams were distressing to her, as they reminded Clara of long passionate nights spent under the moonlit fields where she used to play with her girlfriend. These were her favorite nights growing up, as they were away from the stress of the daily grind of both her job and her disapproving stepparents. For the most part, they were unbothered by any of the locals, who assumed them to be a bunch of wild animals and would call them such if they were ever caught. Some nights a group of bikers would come to watch, but given that Clara was a co-founding member of the gang, they tended to only be there to say hello or participate if Clara allowed it. The games Clara and her girlfriend played ranged from horsey to cops and robbers to pegging (though that was only when their mutual frenemy, Jack, was around).

It wasn’t even the fear of the people in the motel room next door paying enough attention to call the cops. Clara had long known this motel to be the go to location for crack, smack, and other such drug dealers to make arrangements with larger entities to practice their trade. These dealings ranged from “which locations are ok for me to make deal in” to “I need you to be my representative in a drug deal that could end my life if I go” to “PLEASE IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, DON’T KILL MY DAUGHTER” among other mundane deals. If the police were to get wind of a kidnapping at that motel, they might find the skeletons hidden in the closets, both figuratively and literally if some local legends are to be believed, and motel management didn’t need that hassle. They already had to worry about whether or not the drug lords would kill them for knowing too much.

Rather, what distressed Clara was the ways in which her double was not like her, despite being nearly identical. She noticed that her double was roughly an inch taller, had green eyes, blonde hair with pink and purple highlights that was typically put into a pony tail but was now unrestrained, and a small, nearly unnoticeable, mole on her left cheek. Her ears, until fairly recently, held little circular earrings that had been passed down, generation to generation, for over a hundred years. The double’s skin was obviously paler than Clara’s, though she did have the soft tan expected of a California resident. She was left handed, though she didn’t realize it, as she had always written with her right. Her hands never worked any harder than a few hours on a keyboard typing a paper for her college professor on the implications of time travel on free will. Her body did not have any scars on it.

In the long run, these differences didn’t matter all that much, as her fate would still be the same. They would come for her and Clara would get what she deserved.

Clara O’Winn was only 10 years old when she realized she couldn’t die.

It was on a long car ride when it happened. With here was her mother, Janet, driving the car while thinking about doing activities such as being in a relationship that actually has love in it, not going to prison, or climbing a mountain that she would never do in her life time; her father, Bob, who was as oblivious to his wife’s feeling towards him much like how when one is driving late at night and a deer suddenly jumps in front of the car, killing everyone involved; her younger brother, Francis, who as at that moment on 8Chan figuring out his sexuality, a move that would lead him to spend years in therapy and inadvertently destroy the career of a prominent presidential nominee; and finally, Flapjack, the family dog who would die long before anyone else in the car.

As for the car itself, it was not moving. Clara didn’t know why it wasn’t moving, nor did the majority of drivers to preoccupied with honking their horns to solve the issue at hand. It appeared to Clara that her side of the road was completely jammed. Curious, as she is wont to be, Clara decided to leave the car. She knew that it was usually unsafe to leave a car on a busy highway, but Clara felt that it was safe to do so as nearly every other car was beginning to send an emissary to discover the source of the calamity that had befallen them. Also, Clara knew that she wouldn’t get lost like the last time she abandoned her family, since the road was just a straight line. That, and her parents were too busy playing at adulthood to notice her leave the car. The only one who did notice Clara leave was Flapjack, who silently followed her to his death.

At first, Clara felt that this was like one of the adventures she would make up in her grandmother’s garden back home, about mysterious travelers who right wrongs, defeat the baddies, and kick some serious ass. She always loved coming up with those stories, but she only felt safe telling them to her grandmother while weeding the garden on hot summer’s days. She never dreamed she would ever be one of those characters. Too self involved for those types, too ordinary, too boring to be a hero. Not even this quest to discover what caused all the cars to stop was an adventure of her liking. It was an adventure, sure, but it was just a mundane curiosity that everyone wants in on. A true adventure, Clara believed, would be a solitary experience. She would hold this belief for the remainder of the day.

While walking towards the source of the problem, Clara encountered another young girl, whose name she would never share, nor would Clara. She had dull blue eyes, red ravenous hair turned into pigtails, and slightly yellow teeth. The girl was roughly 13 years old, but she appeared to be much younger. She was barely three inches shorter than Clara, though she held herself much like a wolf cub trying to initiate themselves into a clan they weren’t born into. There was something familiar about this girl, though Clara couldn’t put her finger on it. She claimed her family sent her to solve the problem, but even at a young age Clara knew that was bullshit. Still, the girl seemed nice enough, for a kid, so Clara allowed the girl to follow her to the center of the commotion. To pass the time, the girls talked about the only thing there was to talk about.

“What do you think it is,” asked Clara.

“Deer,” replied the girl curtly.

“Deer? Surely it must be something more interesting than that.”

“Deer are interesting,” argued the companion. Clara was unsure if she hurt her companion’s feelings but assumed, as always, that she had, so she tried to save face towards this stranger, whom she would never meet again in her lifetime. Though she would still think about her, occasionally, whenever she saw deer eating her garden.

“I mean, ah… surely there must be an explanation that isn’t so… ordinary?”

“Oh yeah, like what?”

“uhh… Aliens?” The girl with blue eyes raised an eyebrow. “I mean, there’s signs everywhere, y’know. Books talking about crop circles and people being abducted and probed and… and… C’mon, you have to wonder, right? What’s out there and all.”

“Not really,” the pigtailed stranger sighed, knowingly, with a smile on her face that always appeared whenever she had good dreams, “there are so many fantastic sights out in the world: tornados that can lift frogs states away; 100 ravens sitting outside, waiting for the homeowner to just… open the door so the can scatter; the depths of the ocean that house creatures we have never seen before. I just don’t have time to think about space.” This would change a month after her 24th birthday, when the Children of Nyarlethotep used her in a failed ritual to summon their dark and terrible god from a self imposed exile. In that moment, she saw that space was nature’s dark mirror. Cold and uncaring like a parent who is never there. And yet, there’s a beauty blocked off by its needlessly cruel nature, born out of necessity lest the War, and those who fight in it, kill it for not choosing a side. A beauty seen only by those who appear to die, as all the others would, but in reality transcend the body’s physical form, since physicality is a mere option to this solitary figure, and be everywhere and every when.

The only retort Clara could offer the teenager at the time was a snort and a “whatever” before continuing their journey in silence.

As the museum of cars went on and on, people began to head back to their homes, accepting this bizarre occurrence to be an unexplainable event. Perhaps some gave up because of the unending forest that surrounded the road like fingers grasping at the palm of a hand, waiting to crush the insect that flew its way in. Or perhaps it was because they realized that the universe is a much bigger and terrifying place, whose answers will consume those who dare to try to discover them and as such it is best to care for those closest to them, rather than walk to the end of this dark forest road. Or maybe they just don’t care for walking. A few, however, persisted.

Eventually, even Clara and her stranger decided to call it quits. Or rather their mothers found them, grabbed them by the ear, and dragged them back to their car. At some point in the future, the roads freed up, but by then the sun had set. One of the drivers could have sworn he heard a crunching noise as he turned off the highway to stay the night at a motel, but thought nothing of it until the last seconds before his death.

Clara and her family, meanwhile, decided not to stop driving. Her parents would alternate between who was driving and who was sleeping for the night. Normally, Janet could drive the whole way there, but the incident with the stopped cars got her in a mood that forced her to take a break. Bob, who was currently driving the car, was slowly showing his fellow drivers that he should not be driving at this hour, nearly killing several of them without noticing. Clara and Francis, meanwhile, slept in the back seat, dreaming.

While Francis’ dreams were of a symbolic and sexual nature, Clara’s were far more straightforward. In some cultures, far in the depths of space, in the halls of power and the streets of the powerless, there are tales of what one sees when they die. Some say that there is a bright light that leads you to where you will be judged, be it by a scale or Santa Claus. Others claim that there is nothing but the black void seen when one closes their eyes, waiting for REM sleep. Few even claim beings “souls” reincarnate into other beings, to keep the karmic balance and save money on developing new character models.

Few stories, however, tell of the Death Dream. The Death Dream is the kind of dream only seen when one dies in their sleep. It tells of the life that one lived as a mash up: events bleeding into each other, creating new narratives. A mother, who died in childbirth, dancing at her daughter’s wedding; a family of old men, born decade’s apart, sharing war stories and the good old days; and other tales that the living can never know. It was in this state that Clara O’Winn died in.

Though it wouldn’t be diagnosed until well after this point, Clara could very well be considered Patient 0 of a disease lovingly called “The True Plague”. So called, as victims of it lose access to the parts of the brain that allow secrets to be kept prior to death. When Clara began exhibiting these symptoms, her mother dismissed it as merely the childish bravado seen when one has their ear pulled by their mother in public. The True Plague is fast acting and the survival rates are so astronomically low that there are better odds of surviving sex on the dark side of the moon for an entire hour. Naturally, Clara O’Winn died from the disease.

And then, she woke up.

She wasn’t anywhere new. She was still in her family car, woken up by her parents bickering about the direction they’re supposed to be heading in. Her brother was drooling on her shoulder, somehow still sleeping through the most foul-mouthed conversation their parents had up to that point. Clara made a note of that for later. The sun beamed down from outside the car, the windows haven been taken down so the cool breeze of the previous midnight hour could engulf the car in its soothing nature.

Surveying the scene, two thoughts popped up in Clara’s mind. The first was that she should be dead. It wasn’t a thought she fully understood at the time. She wasn’t dead, not even in the dream. (Her dream involved watching a low budget 1960’s British science fiction show with her great aunt Harriet and a pair transsexual wereseals while eating French Fry shaped spider legs on a table made out of wood draped in the flesh of still living white nationalists, who the only people in the room not having a good time.) And yet, she should be dead. She felt perfectly healthy, no longer feeling like she had a fever while freezing to death, no need to shout secrets about how Mr. Pick hates her because she caught him kissing one of the janitors without wearing his wedding band. She was completely free of The True Plague.

Clara asked her mother to take her pulse, and, when they were at a rest stop to get some breakfast and bring back the good driver, there was indeed a pulse to be found. Regardless, Clara knew that she was supposed to be dead. She tried to make sense of it all, but could only come to one conclusion: she was God. She quickly realized her mistake when it didn’t rain ice cream and instead realized there could only be one conclusion: she was finally the protagonist in the stories she loved to make up.

It was as if the universe had given her superpowers to… do what, exactly? Solve crime? Topple empires? What? Regardless, she knew she couldn’t tell her family about this, not even her beloved grandmother. They would all tell her that she’s too young to do anything. That she shouldn’t aspire to do anything more than what they did. Be realistic. No, instead Clara decided to bide her time, plan out her escape, and, when the moment’s right, flee from her captors and save the world.

The second thought that came to her mind was the realization that Flapjack had gone missing. Which was a shame, as Clara always believed he was a good boy.

“You haven’t been on a date in how long?” Jane teased with mock horror. They had been roommates for roughly a year, and yet Clara felt as if they were already lifelong friends. And though this would not be the case, as some lives last longer than others, they were still as thick as thieves. And yet, there were secrets kept between the two of them. Jane, for example, recently joined an organization that offered to pay for her entire college tuition, as well as hire her immediately after college for further work in exchange for a small donation of blood. (What Jane was unaware of was that said donation would be used to rewrite her timeline so that she was always a fiercely loyal member of the organization, and would die in their temporal War games. But then, corporations tend to leave out little details like that.)

Clara, meanwhile, had many secrets kept from those around her. She never told anyone of her immortal status, save for when it would be written off as the ravings of someone who really shouldn’t be driving a car at the moment. She didn’t tell Jane that she used to be a blonde or that Jane suddenly didn’t need glasses or that the lifelong vegan was eating a cheeseburger. Clara didn’t mention to Jane that she was aware of the tattoo on her left butt cheek of a snake eating its own tail, nor that it suddenly changed to that of something that looked like a snake skull midway through the semester. But then, Clara had to be aware of Jane’s changes for them to be secrets. For her, she had always been like that.

As for the subject of dating, Clara had long given up on the endeavor. It wasn’t that she shared her roommate’s asexual tendencies. Rather, she felt dating to be a waste of time. Fiction had long taught her that living forever meant other people would die around her. She never liked death, not even before seeing her mother whither away in a prison cell, denied food and medical care for too long. Clara wanted to avoid that as much as possible. Besides, she wasn’t even sure if she would stop aging at some point or if she would become a shriveled husk of 20000, forever aging until the end of time, and perhaps even longer (the latter, as it turns out).

However, on occasion, she felt like having a nice old-fashioned one-night stand that meant absolutely nothing, save for some (hopefully) good sex. Usually, Clara used the Tinder app to find someone also open to such an arrangement. However, she had just recently finished The Telephone Book, and had grown extremely paranoid by its fascist implications and decided to stay away from phones until absolutely necessary like later that night, when she needed to give out a phone number. As such, she decided the next sensible move would be to ask Jane if she knew anyone willing to go out on a date and hope that whoever it was could be let down easily.

Fortunately she didn’t have to, as Jane had an old friend coming up that weekend, but needed the room to herself to perform a blood ritual as part of her initiation into the organization, though she simply told Clara she was studying for a final, a lie she thought was true.

“You’ll like her,” Jane assured, “ she’s got a wicked sense of humor, a quick mind, and a hot body, so I’m told. Hell, she even kinda looks like you.” That last part befuddled Clara, as many of people she had sex with tended to respond with the opposite reaction. Then again, they had been the kind of people who expect to have sex with a person like one has milk in your cereal, so she tended to ignore their remarks. Maybe Jane was exaggerating about their similarities.

Regardless, Jane had set their date for a local restaurant that served overpriced steaks and other fancy food, but made up for it with the large fountain in the center that shines an indoor rainbow throughout the restaurant. Jane had said her friend would be recognizable by her dark red dress, which was one of a kind. Clara opted not to wear her blue dress, solely to spite her alchemist friends and their binary views on gender. Instead, she wore a dark purple suit with a long black tie.

When Clara arrived at the restaurant, she was somewhat surprised to discover that her dining companion did have a resemblance to her. Not by much, Clara mused to herself, I mean, she has longer hair than me, she doesn’t have a scar on the back of her hand from when I failed to trick my brother into getting me a drink from the gas station, and there seems to be a tattoo on her shoulder. But perhaps the largest difference Clara found between the two of them was the eyes. It wasn’t as though they were a different color or shape. That was one of the places where they were nearly alike. Rather, it was the implications of their eyes. Though Clara didn’t fully grasp what this meant for the two of them, deep down she understood. But instead of dwelling upon the similarities between the two of them, Clara instead decided to introduce herself to the woman before her.

“Claire Orlando,” she replied.

“Bit of an odd name,” smiled Clara as she read the menu, “don’t you think?”

“Not really, no. I mean, there are loads of people named Claire.”

“That’s not what I…” but before Clara could finish that thought, the waiter arrived to ask them what they wanted to eat. They both ordered the steak, as it was honestly the only good food served at the restaurant. Clara resumed, saying, “I mean, isn’t it a bit odd that we almost have the same name?”

“Not particularly,” Claire said, hoping it would be enough, “I mean, it’s not like we’ve known each other for our whole lives. We literally just met, and you’re from, what?”

“New York.”

“Right, and I’ve pretty much lived in California for my whole life. The odds of it happening to me twice are astronomical, but they do happen.”

“Twice?”

“Uhm… I, uh, Why do you even care anyways?” Claire asked, hoping that this would lead the discussion away from what she felt was a rather embarrassing teenage phase.

Clara sighed. “Honestly, I’m just trying to make small talk. It’s been a while since I’ve had to do this sort of thing.”

“And what sort of thing is that?” Claire asked, silently thanking the god she was praying to as Clara asked that question (Sadly, and perhaps fittingly, it was Glycon).

“You know, dating. Going to dinner. Talking about things we have in common. Ah geez, I don’t even know.” Clara began rubbing her eyelids with her thumb and index finger; her tone was growing slightly exasperated.

“Well… what do you usually do on a Saturday night?”

“Oh, you know. Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” What Clara did not want to tell Claire was that her Saturday nights were predominately spent working on a series of fan fiction projects including various one off stories based off of minor non-speaking characters, brief flash fiction projects about cartoon horses, and multiple long chaptered works about certain science fiction characters practicing BDSM. But her magnum opus would be the series of fix-fics on the Animorphs book series, which took the themes of terrorism, alienation, and other child friendly themes and brought them to the forefront. She only got up to the 49th book in the series before realizing that the spark of creativity that had started her on this path had moved on to bigger and better things (though it would be awhile before it would move on to more profitable things). If she was being honest, she was just doing this series to finish it up. Fortunately, there weren’t that many books left in the series for her to work on, so she would simply take the breaks needed for her not to face complete burnout (as each book rewrite could be as short as 15,000 or as long as 100,000). By the time she reached the final book, Clara was almost glad that a group of Russian hackers deleted most of the work she had done for no other reason than a hatred for a specific ship. It meant that she could claim that she wouldn’t be able to redo all of them again and she could move on to better things. All told, the only fics that survived the Russian hacking job were #48-The Return and #50-The Ultimate, which were, ironically, the primary source for the shipping war that caused the aforementioned purge in the first place.

Instead, Clara said, “Watch TV, read a book, do some homework. Normal stuff. What about you? What do you do on a Saturday night?”

“Masturbate.” To say Claire did not want to say that word would be an understatement. Given such a statement, there was an extremely awkward pause in their conversation, long enough for their steaks to arrive. Claire finally broke the silence. “Sorry, I panicked, so I tried to make a joke. It didn’t work.”

“Clearly,” Clara remarked, more focused on her steak than this person she would only have to interact with for another hour or so. Though she wouldn’t say it aloud, if Clara saw the response in the same context in a movie, she would have most likely laughed at that “joke.” But, as this was not a movie, Clara was not pleased with the situation. A shame given that up to that point in the date, Clara believed that they were getting on rather nicely.

“Look,” Claire pleaded after having her first bite of steak, “I know I screwed up, but we still have to talk about something.”

“Like what, your taste in porn?”

“Sure, if that’s what you want to talk about,” Claire replied, grinning to hide her desperation. When in doubt, she thought, go for humor. Clara nearly spurt out her coke with lemon when she heard this offer.

“No, no. That’s uh… that’s fine… So, what do you do exactly?” At that moment, Claire was enrolled in an internship program with an organization that sent her to various inner cities throughout the country to work as a TA under several High School English teachers who would allow students enrolled with them to learn their second language. She planned to travel the world and write a novel about her experiences teaching to various cultures and what she learned from them. She would never get around to writing it. Claire was taking the week off to visit an old childhood friend, unaware she was setting Claire up with her roommate, Clara.

“Working on my teaching degree, you?” Clara, meanwhile, was concluding her training as an actress with an acting company. The director of the troupe claimed to have plans to groom her into being one of the great actresses of the modern age, but he said that of all the new girls. She played several minor roles in various plays before making her break two years back as Lady Macbeth in a well received production of Macbeth. Afterwards, she moved on to other roles including Ophelia, The Stepdaughter in Six Characters in Search of an Author, and the lead role in an original play about the shooting of Andy Warhol. Currently, she was working on a script for a satirical one-act play about the fairy queen spending a day in outside of her kingdom. Its lead would be a 10 year old girl whose mother was locked away in prison for killing her husband in self defense, so she claims. The play ends with the girl running away to fairyland after trapping the fairy queen in a fallen world.

Rather than respond to her companion, Clara proceeded to feel the urge to puke out her guts as if she was the first kill of a horror movie more interested in cheap thrills and gore than in character drama and gore. Indeed, nearly every one of the patrons at the restaurant was puking their guts out. That was, except for Clara and Claire. For unbeknownst to the patrons, the main chef had long been a member of a cult who worshiped the Greek god Glycon. They had long planned to summon the snake god onto the mortal plane, but lacked a means to do so. That was, until the chef read up on a mystical ritual in a mediocre fantasy novel that required a massive and painful sacrifice to summon the main baddies’ snake god. They didn’t concern themselves with the obvious flaws in their plan (after all, they did believe Glycon was a snake) and went with it anyways. All told, 51 people were murdered that night. It was fortunate that the police were tipped off later that night, as the cult, not seeing their god, decided to try again at a later date. The restaurant, wanting to save face, sued the meat supplier for giving them tainted flesh.

As for Clara and Claire… the sensation of discovering that someone who has a similar name to you, a mild resemblance, and also can’t die is a coincidence too large to ignore. There was a long, awkward silence between the two of them as the police put blankets around them to deal with the shock. They were both smart enough to lie to the police, claiming that they were just about to eat the steak when people started puking their guts out. Eventually, when the night got quiet and they were alone under the dancing sky, they exchanged phone numbers, as this is the kind of thing one would want to know more about. Then Clara made an all too familiar suggestion to Claire.

When Juliet returned to the room, the stench had not gone away. More peculiarly, was the snake puppet in the back pocket of her roommate’s pants, which were lying carelessly on the couch. Juliet could have sworn she heard it talking, but brushed it off as her overactive imagination trying to distract her from the naked bodies in the middle of the room.

Sooner than they expected, Clara and Claire found themselves renting an apartment together. Even more surprisingly, was that it was located in Union Square, New York City in an apartment that, under normal circumstances, would cost $10,000 per month. Neither of them had employment per say, though Claire would be working a teaching position that in no way could afford to pay $10,000 per month, and yet they had an apartment to live in. But in a rather oddly forced tone of voice, the landlord, a lean man of 50 with damage from a third degree burn on his left cheek that made it look like there was no cheek at all, said they could have the room for free for their first year. And while that did seem suspicious, their options at that time were either there or a place in New Jersey. They chose the saner option.

Clara suspected it had something to do with the dealings they had last year with a cult. They were in the midst of spring break in California. Clara wanted to surprise her girlfriend for once by showing up unannounced and to introduce herself to the family. Claire never talked about her family during their Skype chats, though Clara did occasionally hear grumblings in the background when Claire claimed to be at home. Deep down, in the part of the mind where childhood and childish dreams reside, she hoped that they were homophobic. Not so much because she wanted more people who thought of her as an abomination against God, but rather because it would mean that she could save her girlfriend and they could fly off into the sunset, living happily ever after, finally giving her a story to be the protagonist of. But those dreams never arose to the conscious mind, as the part of Clara’s brain that housed empathy remarked about the banality of such dreams.

When she arrived at the Californian airport, she bumped into a janitor by the name of Charlotte Orman. Charlotte had spent the past 20 years working at the airport, barely able to keep her house from losing it, thus making her and her three daughters homeless. What Charlotte would never know is that the only reason she was able to have a house at all was because an influential friend wanted to spite a competitor who wished to use the property to build a high rise for rich people who wanted to act like they were starving artists who didn’t have an offshore bank account they could fall back on. As such, the landlord of the trailer park Charlotte lived in would be bribed double whatever the competitor offered.

Immediately, Clara was apologetic, a ritual she grew up with less for the sake of the person she was apologizing to than for her own. She offered to buy Charlotte something to drink. Charlotte mumbled yes, but she was more transfixed by the woman before her. Clara looked exactly like Charlotte imagined she could have looked like when she was young and wanted to set the world on fire. She had the scruffy long hair Charlotte thought she could pull off if given the chance and the figure of a non-anorexic actress in her prime. Her arm was covered in tattoos Charlotte was always afraid of getting and the eyes of a revolutionary that always stared back at Charlotte asking what went wrong. She always wanted to be this woman, instead the one she grew into.

Sadly, the woman she wanted to be would never be proud of who she became, as while they were sharing drinks Charlotte put a roofie into Clara’s. The things you find in an airport bathroom. Nobody cared at the airport, save for some lewd remarks about Charlotte’s sexuality that were unfounded in the facts her coworkers had. It wasn’t that Charlotte wanted to do this to the young girl, she had no hate or jealousy towards her. She just had three kids to care for, and they always took priority to her dreams.

When Clara awoke, she found herself tied to a table made of stone. It was wet with a substance Clara typically felt on the other side of her skin. Next to her were rows upon rows of women just like her: bound, gagged, and about to die a horrible death. Clara wasn’t worried though. She knew she couldn’t die, no matter what these people did. But then she looked closer at the women around her. Closer than she ever thought she’d need to. In particular, she looked at the woman at the end of the row, who was about to be sacrificed. Clara decided her name was “Cassandra,” which coincidentally it was. She saw something familiar in her, like a childhood friend she never had. Cassandra had frizzy hair that was usually kept in no particular style. She had hands that worked primarily on a farm, but sometime would be used to write about the wonders of nature. Her nose was broken, most likely by whoever was keeping them hostage. But what caught Clara’s eyes were Cassandra’s. At first, Clara thought they looked like none she had ever seen in her life. And then, it dawned on her that she had seen them. They were the only eyes she would have to see in her life, no matter what she did. And with that realization, more realizations came to her, flooding her mind with monstrous implications of what made the tables wet. And as she stared into the eyes of her double, they appeared to turn pale with death.

There were only two women in front of Clara. She couldn’t create names for them (and they would have been wrong anyways) as she was far to busy trying to escape her predicament. She didn’t want to die, as she hadn’t discovered the horrifying and obvious implications of being an immortal that ages, and so she tried to look for a way to free herself from the table. It dawned on her that there were no chains on the table, but she felt like she was being held to it like a mother seeing her child before sitting on an electric chair. It appeared that there was no way out.

They came to her, eventually. Their knives were drenched in the blood of countless other people with lives just as valuable as anyone worth less than a billion dollars. They were smiling, apologetic beings who wanted only what they thought was best for Clara. They said that she was the child of the great god Nyarlethotep. They talked about a cosmic War between corporate fascism and freedom. The cultists proclaimed that humanity was a mere insect in the face of this uncaring War of gods, and all they wished was peace. They claimed their god was the personification of freedom. They said that if they did it right this time, their god would free them from the chain of mortality. They showed Clara a rotting corpse; still alive and shriveled to the proportions of a doll a baby could hold, pleading for the sweet release of death. They asked Clara, with mouths too much like her own, if they could sacrifice her to their god. And Clara said no. They didn’t care of course, they were going to cut her up anyway, but they still had to ask. It was a key part of the tradition. The last thing Clara saw was the blade that murdered countless others pierce her flesh.

And then, Clara woke up. She was in the passenger seat of a rental car, used mostly by people who didn’t care if a car had air conditioning. Driving the car was Claire, drenched in a sweat that covered her tears. Clara was groggy at first, but was slowly able to pick herself up from the slightly opened car window. Claire focused on the road, not even acknowledging her passenger.

“W… what happened?” Clara asked, still a bit dazed.

“You got drunk at the airport, and I picked you up,” Claire replied, hiding all emotion and praying to Glycon that this would work.

“I don’t remember calling you.”

“You were drunk.”

“I don’t feel hung over.” Clara pulled out her phone. “Claire?”

No response.

“It says that it’s Wednesday.”

No response.

“I got into the airport on Sunday.” Clara looked deep into the eyes of her girlfriend and noticed that they couldn’t do what they thought needed to be done.

Claire pulled over the car and nearly everything poured out. She told her love that she was kidnapped by a cult called the Children of Nyarlethotep. She told her that she was a member back when she was a stupid teenager who didn’t think things through. Who thought that the answers lay with people who were just like her in nearly every way. How they were Claire’s only friends growing up, or they told her as such. How she believed them. How she participated. How she felt that if she ever told Clara, that she would hate her and never want to-

Instead, Clara kissed her girlfriend.

In the end, Clara spent the night at Claire’s house. Her parents were rather nice, if a bit too fond of the 60’s for their own good. Claire didn’t want to talk about them because she felt there really wasn’t much to talk about. She was wrong, as all people are when they say that about a family member. Clara and Claire swore to never join the Children of Nyarlethotep, a promise that would never be kept.

Claire, who was more familiar with the Children of Nyarlethotep, dismissed the claim that the cult is funding their apartment, as funds of the cult tend to go towards far more sensible things like human sacrifices, fixing their evil lair, or buying a coffee maker that actually works. Claire thought she noticed their landlord talking to someone shaped like a person. An alien, though he looked too human to be an alien, yet too alien to be a human. She couldn’t make out what they were talking about, just a bit of grunts and growls. They appeared to be in the middle of some kind of interpretive dance that kept them extremely close. Claire didn’t think they saw her. She didn’t say any of this to Clara, as that would require remembering the encounter.

In the meantime, they had to move their stuff into the apartment. To pass the time as men who sweat like a character on Baywatch carried their stuff into the room, they decided to come up with names for people who also held an immortal status. It was Clara’s idea, having felt brazen one afternoon during that fateful spring break. They created three base assumptions as rules for their game. First, the people all had to be women as all the people like them were women (this isn’t remotely true as Clark Oswald can attest). Second, they had to have the initials C.O. as this was also true of all the ones they had met and indeed was generally true of everyone of said status (save on alien worlds where the letters “C” and “O” do not exist). And third, no stupid names like Charity Oregon.

All told, of the people they had come up with up to that point, only three existed. The first, Carrie Oswin, was a director of a museum of art in the upper area of the state of Connecticut. She has four children, all out of the house, and is content with her life, expecting to die within the next couple of years of natural causes. Then there was Carmen O’Winn, a thief primarily working in Europe. She was inspired by a television show she watched as a kid whose title character was also a thief working her own agenda and setting her own rules. She stole many artifacts over the years, primarily from the rich and powerful. At the time, she was being contracted by a group of men who had never gone outside their own mother’s basement, let alone talk to a girl their age, who wanted her to search the house of an archivist of old 60’s television to see if he had any tapes that the BBC Archives could use. No such tapes were found, and she barely made it out of there alive. Finally, Cassandra Owsley did not exist in that exact moment. Nor would she ever, despite existing in later moments as well as earlier ones.

They spent the hours making up names, all of them fake, as well as taking breaks to argue how to position the tables in the living room, which bathroom got which curtains, and other banal conversations. In the end, they were able to make the apartment their own. Innocuously, Clara asked Claire for a cup of milk, only to discover that they forgot to go shopping. They decided that it could wait until the morning and decided to take an early rest. One of them would get it in the morning.

Clara wouldn’t see Claire again for a long time.

After a month of grieving, she was brought into the arms of the Children of Nyarlethotep by despair. It wasn’t that she was unaware of groups that could help her in her time of need, or even ones that were primarily run by people like her. It was that the cult got to her first.

The cult didn’t want her depressed, as that only gets people so far. They wanted her indoctrinated and fiercely loyal. They had had this exact situation happen countless times over the years where vulnerable people of their kind would be found and needed to be taught the right way of existing. They lived for their god and one day they would die for him as well. Until that day, they needed more sacrifices and those willing to sacrifice. The cult felt she had the tenacity to be one of them and not a mere sacrifice. But first, they had to break her down.

The depression did most of the work for them. She already felt like she was falling into the abyss. It was her fault they took Claire. If she had gone to the market, they would’ve taken her instead and Claire would be safe. Then she thought of how Claire would feel without her, and fell deeper into the pit. It didn’t help that the cult never referred to her by name, simply saying “you” or “girl” or something along those lines. Or, for that matter, their inexplicable decision to refer to Claire solely as “the deceased” or “it.”

They had to remove the influence of Claire from her heart. If she had even the slightest inkling love for anyone other than Nyarlethotep, she would desire freedom. They didn’t touch her, not physically. They just talked, as people who offer shoulders often tend to do. At first, they just listened to her about how much she loved Claire. How Claire was the only thing anchoring her to life. Then, the cult twisted the stories, gas lighting her claims of abuse. That Claire never loved her, only wanted someone who she could have power over.

It took time for her to accept the truth her friends were telling her. Years, months, hours, they all bled together in the sanctum the Children of Nyarlethotep reside in. She thought that it was love, real love. She didn’t realize how often they argued, how easily the scars faded, like the one she got last spring break when the deceased stabbed her in the stomach. It hurt to come to terms with this, but her sisters said that healing hurts.

Time passed. Eventually she had to show the cult that she was truly theirs. She had to perform a sacrifice. They provided her a book, telling of the War, of their god, of all the factions and sides and important members. And then, something happened to her. Something the cult wasn’t expecting. They thought of everything, save for one small thing they weren’t even aware could ruin everything. It began when she was reading the final pages of the ritual. She was practicing the various sigils on a dead homeless man, as all trainees do, looking back and forth between her work and the design. Suddenly, a wind from nowhere blew the pages away. It whispered like an old, long dead, imaginary friend.

She looked at the book, frustrated that she’d have to flip through the tome again to find where she was. She’d probably forget where she was and have to perform a new ritual. Homeless corpses, while not limited, are a tedious item to find. The page the wind turned the book to seemed familiar to her, especially the symbol. It was almost like skull of a snake but the fangs were too long. And there were other teeth around it. The eyes weren’t shaped like snake eyes, but almost human ones. And the snout, which was much too large to be a snake’s, had teeth in it as well. She had seen it before, somewhere though she couldn’t remember. When she was young and wanted to set the world on fire perhaps. She thought of where she saw it. It was on a butt. A friend’s butt. And it wasn’t always a mask; it used to be an Ouroboros (she didn’t know how she knew that). And the butt belonged to Jane, best friend of-

She didn’t want to say the name of the deceased.

It hurt when she even thought of the deceased.

She remembered what her sisters reminded her of what the deceased did.

The knife to the abdomen, deep enough to threaten but not kill.

She thought of the knife used by the deceased, how she was so afraid.

It was a familiar knife, like the one in her hand.

Exactly like the one in her hand.

It didn’t come together all at once. Maybe she knew the truth all along, but denied it to let herself do what they call healing. Maybe there were other moments where she almost came to a realization of what they were. Maybe she would have broken free even if the wind hadn’t coincidentally turned the pages, as if destiny wanted her to see it. But other lives would have been lost, tortured for a futile purpose that she saw all too clearly. Would Claire love her if she did those things? Would she ever love herself? Yes, she responded to herself. She read through that section, eager to learn and understand what she was fighting. Eventually, she would know what to do with this book. But in that moment, holding the knife, she knew what she had to do.

“Are you ready?” asked Charity Oregon.

Clara O’Winn smiled.

Clara sat on the cheap motel bed while Charity continued to futilely scream for help through the duck tape. Clara was looking at her watch, which told her they had less than a minute to arrive. She was aware from the stolen book that they were known for their punctuality, but arriving at the exact minute seemed a bit excessive.

But she would soon realize that excessiveness was baked in their nature as a shape began to form. Not of an individual, but of an object. Something that would not be conspicuous in a motel room, but still distinct enough for the owner to not have to spend five hours debating which TV he used to go home and ending up picking the wrong television. The device was championed by a sound akin to a child squeezing a squirrel to death while playing with the blinds. Eventually, the shape revealed itself, and the being stepped out of the toilet.

The being was not human. Sure, if one were looking at the being through the lens of a photograph or moving picture, the being would appear to look like a human, but there was something off about the way he looked. He certainly looked like a he, but there was an air of ambiguity to the significance of that detail. He looked less like a person and more like the culmination of generations of film studios and focus groups to create a character archetype (the archetype in question being the stuffy dean seen in every single college comedy ever made, but with the smile of an authoritarian dictator and the teeth of the infinite). But perhaps what made him look the lease human was in the eyes. They were dilated in such a way as have a star field shine through his infinite darkness.

Clara had heard of the parties involved in the War, and called first the side that would be least likely to simply take both of herself and Charity and do what she expected them to do to her kidnapped victim. Sadly, no such side existed, but the side of order, lordship, and sterility was far more likely to humor her than the other factions would. The only fortune she had was that he didn’t simply rewrite her timeline so that she’d give herself to be experimented, dissected, and used to create relatively good cannon fodder for when the War inevitably got boring. His side wanted time to flow exactly as it always had, never changing, forever.

“Well,” he said in the voice of an ornery deposed king while stroking his beard impatiently, “is this the real deal?” Clara said nothing, for she knew his side, like all the sides in the War, thought of her (and the rest of humanity for that matter) as a Lesser Species not worthy of listening to bluster. Instead, she simply pulled out the knife she had in her left pocket, and stabbed her captive a few inches away from her heart. It was surprisingly easy to cut around the organ (though she had many years of practice) but it still took a bit of time. The knife cut through Charitiy’s breastplate like it would butter or wood or the skull of an Elder God.

There, in front of both of them, was Chartiy’s beating heart. The sight and feeling of this happening to her made the young woman pass out. Clara, who was used to the sight of cruelty in the name of uncaring powers, proceeded to rip out the still beating heart and present it to the orderly gentleman. The blood that belonged to Charity still flowed through the body, only slightly leaving the hole. It didn’t so much create a new organ to replace the removed one as simply acting as if the heart wasn’t removed in the first place.

“Interesting,” said the man with an air of self-congratulation, “tell me, what do you want for this… intriguing specimen?”

Clara felt no need to lie. “I want your time machine so I can travel the universe.” The man shaped being laughed. One doesn’t typically hear members of his side laugh, but it is always unsettling when they do so. It’s not clear why the laugh is unsettling to an average being as, for all intensive purposes, it sounds like a normal laugh, albeit an evil laugh heard in old science fiction movies with lines like “NOTHING IN THE WORLD CAN STOP ME NOW!” But the cadence of the laugh was… off. Emphasis was put on the wrong syllable, focusing on the letter in between the “H” and “A” in “HA.”

When the laughter stopped, he calmly, as if he had never laughed at all, said, “I must say, you are an amusing little thing. The hubris of your species is well documented, and indeed fascinating compared to other Lesser Races, but this really takes the cake, as your species is fond of saying Clara.” Clara was stunned. In her conversation with his side, she never once mentioned her name to them. “You know, it was quite easy to come across your name. We have several agents in your time zone who were eager to tell us information about you and your cult. Once certain pressures were used, of course.”

“It’s not my cult,” Clara demanded.

Ignoring her, the being continued, “Frankly the only reason we didn’t simply take you earlier was because you were able to contact us.” He paused for effect. “At first, we assumed you simply got the information from that book you stole,” pointing directly at the book, which was hidden poorly inside a nightstand draw too small for it to fit into, “but then we noticed that it was years out of date.” This mildly stunned Clara, but she didn’t show it. “I mean, your book only covers, what, the first 100 years of the War. There is no contact information for our side in that edition. So how were you able to call us?”

Clara smirked, “It was written on the wind.” She then fled for the exit, but the man shaped being simply slowed down her perception of time and causally walked in front of her before resuming it to a speed faster that 1^-100,000,000 inches per hour.

“Cute,” he smugly retorted, “I suppose we’ll get the real answers out of you in the-“ But before he could finish that sentence, a familiar sound to the being filled the room. Like the wheeze and groan of an organ being played at a packed church in the instance a roof fell on it. It dawned on the being that if this Lesser Being had the contact information for his side, she might also have the information of other sides. Which is why it came at no surprise that a ship that looked like the skeletal remains of a dragon appeared in the room.

The dragon’s mouth opened revealing another bidder for the captives. Unlike her competitor, she looked distinctly human. Though Clara couldn’t make out any physical features beneath her uniform, she could tell by the feel of her that she was human. She didn’t appear to be much older than a college dropout, but there was an air of scholarship to the way she held herself before the two of them. The woman was dressed in a typical Goth attire featuring pants darker than the depths of space, a black jacket covered in pins advertising causes the woman no longer believed in, and a mask made out of the skull from a long dead alien race that still had the species blood smeared on its teeth. She seemed familiar, but Clara couldn’t put her finger on why.

“Step away from the woman, or else” snarled the woman. The woman was unarmed, though her shadow rather strangely appeared to be holding some sort of explosive device in its hands.

“Come now, Cousin Jane,” said the man shaped being, “surely we can end things civilly.”

Cousin Jane thought about this briefly. “Nah, don’t seem to be any other way. Think I’ll blow you up anyways. Always wondered if your kind bleeds gold.”

“Well, clearly there is another way. There are two of them, we can split them up evenly.” As if to piss all over his sunny day, a beam of light smashed through the celling landing softly and directly in the center of the room. Out from it, stepped an ethereal being akin to an Angel with the width of a song, the height of purple, and the shape of an experienced English actor known for playing loudmouthed kings and Viking gods.

ATTENTION LESSER SPECIES, hir whispered in a song, WE HAVE COME TO TAKE CLAIM OF THESE TWO SPECIMINS FOR OUR OWN PURPOSES.

“Bullshit you are,” shouted Cousin Jane. “’Sides, I was here first.”

“No you weren’t,” said the man shaped being. “Regardless, I’m sure we can work things out in a neat and orderly fashion.”

“Yeah, you’re just all about order, aren’t you? Not the order you want, mmm?”

“Is there any other?”

YES! OUR ORDER!

“Perhaps we can discuss this at another time, right now I have a business transaction to deal with.”

“Well, too bad, ‘cause so do we.”

AS DO WE!

“W̵̨̕e͘͞ ͟͡a͟l̵s͏o̶ ̸h̴́͝a̕͢͝v̡e̵ ̛͡an̨ ͢a̷̕͡rra̷̛̕n͡ge͞m̸̧͠e̸̛ņ̛t w҉͟ith̛͢͢ ̴̛M͏̵̕s͞.̧̕ ̷̛Ơ͢’͞W̴҉i̵n̸͏n,̸̕” A fourth party retorted, who didn’t so much enter the room but rather rewrote the nature of the universe so they were always in the room. Soon more and more parties showed up for a bit of, frankly, out of date technology that most sides only wanted because the other sides wanted it. The arguments got so loud, that Charity Oregon finally awoke. In the confusion, she found that someone had accidentally cut her binds, placed her heart back into her body, and plastered a bit of skin and bone over it. Wanting simply to go home, Charity fled the scene. Luckily the congregation was so distracted by their petty arguments that she was easily able to escape.

At the very least, they were distracted enough for someone to be able to steal a time machine, learn how to use said time machine, go back in time, convincingly fake a death or two, get married, find a time in the future where people have cured aging, woo a formless being who exists in any point in time she desires, steal a few phone numbers and contact information, get married again, write a few stage plays, and live happily ever after as the universe’s longest working actress married to a formless traveler and a wandering teacher. Which, in a bit of coincidence that is typical of the universe, someone in that room actually did, though she didn’t get the record for longest working actress. But then, I was never one to let a little thing like truth get in the way of a good metaphor.

#clara oswald #faction paradox #doctor who #fan fiction

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classycollectorartisanposts-blog · 6 years

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california long term care insurance quotes

"california long term care insurance quotes

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How much does your insurance go up when you get in a fender bender?

My brother got in a fender bender. He is 16 and got his license about 9 months ago. The other car wasnt badly damaged, just minor. We live in California. Anyone know about how much his insurance policy will go up?""

How much is the insurance on 50cc scooter for a 16 year old?

Please could you tell me the amount for full comp, cheers""

What all does someone under 18 need to get car insurance?

I'm under 18 years old and I need to get car insurance but I dont know if I can get it on my own. My parents do not want to put me on there insurance and I don't know if I can get it by myself. I also heard that they have to co sign for insurance? If that's true will them co signing for my insurance affect there car insurance what so ever? They think that there insurance would go up if they co signed for me but I don't think that's true. Some one please help!

Has anyone sign up for the Affordable Health insurance?

There are all these news about too much traffic to the site, but has anyone actually signed up for health insurance through healthcare.gov?""

Changing car on insurance mid-policy?

I'm getting a new car on Wednesday, a Vauxhall Astra, and still have 5 months left on my insurance, which I paid in full up front for Nissan Micra. I phoned up my insurance today to ask how much it would be to change the car on my policy. To change the car it would be 300. I've got quotes from other insurers that are cheaper than this for the year! To cancel there would be 2 fees adding up to 95! Is this right? What is the best thing to do? Can I run my insurance while I don't own the car as this would be the cheapest way to do it? The car is going as a trade-in to a garage who will probably just be using it for parts and scrap. Thanks for any advice :)""

""How long until a DUI goes off your driving record, for insurance purposes?

My husband got one in 05 in Washington State. I heard it was three years and then you don't have to disclose the DUI to an insurance company. I will be policy shopping soon and I don't want my rates any higher than necessary.

In the uk what car is the cheapest for insurance?

i want to buy a car but the insurance is too much so I want to know what car is cheap to insure

How do I enforce my rights according to Ca Auto Ins. Law without an attorney.?

Their insurance accepted fault immediately. I have rights according to CA Auto Ins. Law, but Geico acts like they do not have to adhere to my rights under California Insurance law. The CA Ins board is watching, but they will not answer this and other questions.""

Does anybody know of a cheap insurance company for eighteen year olds?

I just turned eighteen and I'm looking for car insurance since what I'm paying right now is really high ( 290 for minimum) Everywhere else I look wants like 1000 dollars a month for minimum coverage thats crazy how can anyone afford that? Are there any good companies in specific for someone in my position?

Cheapest car and car insurance for a 21 year old.?

Well i dont know anything about cars so please dont criticise me lol my partner is having his test next month and he is 21 so his insurance will be sky high, so whats the best car for cheapest car insurance at his age? We need it as cheap as possible as were only looking for a second hand one due to it being his first car and he isnt botherd about the looks like as long as it gets us n the kids A to B lol please help.""

Is the only insurance for abortion Medicaid?

What are other insurances that cover Medicaid or is this the only one?

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Did ObamaCare make my insurance costs go down?

Alot of people say healthcare cost will raise when Obamacare goes into efftect. But my healthcare costs has dropped from $1200/month to $400/month for the same coverage. I find it really hard to believe that Obamacare is bad. Also, Obamacare has not been implemented yet - why has healthcare costs has gone down""

Need help to find a car with cheap insurance?

Ok so im nearly 17 and i live in the uk so will be taking my driving test soon. I want a car that isnt to expensive to run and cheap insurance as insurance is really high at the moment an the car cant be to expensive either as i dont have a lot of money the most money i would be willing to be pay is about 2500 and cheapest insurance please!

Insurance for my baby?

I am on my dad's insurance. When my baby is born will it also be included on my dad's insurance?

Motorcycle Insurance?

If i accidentally knock over my bike, will insurance cover that? if so, which coverage covers it?""

On average what is my auto insurance going to cost if I go with geico or progressive in los angeles?

I need to know seriously

Is Medicaid consider as A health insurance?

Hello, I live in Texas and am going to college. My mom wants me to get health insurance stuffs fill out for college, so I have to pay less(? not sure if this is true). The website told me to to file my health insurance so they can take some of the health bill off the insurance.""

Dual Car Insurance trouble?

I had insurance through a company called Sunset Plaza Insurance, and only agreed to do a 6 month period (from 12/08 to 06/09). I moved during the time, and never received a renewal notice at my new address, even after I gave them my new address. However, I found out that for the past 6 months (06/09 - 12/09) they have been charging me for insurance. But I never signed a renewal consent or anything! I remember explicitly saying that I only wanted the insurance for a 6 month period too! What are my options? Please..any advice would help!""

Suv insurance 16 years?

I am getting a mini suv probably a 2006 chevrolet equinox or a 2006 tuscan hyundai for my 16th birthday. I am going to have to pay the insurance on it though, I would be cosighning with my parents. They have perfect credit and also I have a 4 month old daughter who will be riding with some of the time. About how much would the insurance cost me? I'm clueless when it comes to these things. Thanks in advance. Also what is the best mini suv to buy that is under 25 thousand?""

What happen if drive car with no insurance?

i've been buying this used car since last 2 weeks and drive it with no insurance. The MOT and tax will end in August. I just cant afford to buy the insurance yet. What happen if i don't insured it? i live in Northern Ireland, UK""

Teens why is car insurance so expensive?

This morning i was looking at this 2001 ford crown vic. and the owner wanted $700.00 for it, but when I called the insurance company they told me my insurance would be $300.00 per month. why is car insurance so expensive, thats crazy AM I RIGHT?""

Does anyone know the car insurance laws in new york state?

Ok. I am seventeen years old and i want to get my drivers liscense but my parents wont let me because they wont pay for my car insurance. Does anyone know the laws for underage drivers for car insurance? I would be driving one of their cars and i wouldnt have one of my own. If you can site a source, it'd be great cause then i could show it to them. thanks.""

Where do I but non car owner insurance?

I need to get my licence and here in NC they require you to have insurance to get your licence wher do I go to buy non car owners insurance at the best price?

I am 19 years of age i how much will they charge me for my insurance?

i have never been involved in a car accident or gotten pulled over by the police i live in california i have had my drivers license since i was 16. i own a 1997 nissan sentra gxe i pay 480 for it every 6 month and a 2011 nissan murano and i pay 554 every 6 months for it i have Farmers Insurance my dad is main driver my sister in the policy also. How much will they charge me if i buy a 2005 mustang will my car insurance sky rocket because i am consider an inexperience driver and mustang is a sports car Please help

Auto insurance premium higher than what was quoted to me?

I just received my auto insurance policy in the mail and the premium is almost $200/year more than what the agent quoted me! My husband's premium for his vehicle was exactly the same as what was quoted. Is this normal and what should I do? I've already emailed the agent asking why the huge difference but am still waiting on a response.

Why is my car on Motor Insurance Database (MID) while I haven't bought insurance yet?

I've just bought a used car for my son, received the new log book; however, I haven't bought insurance yet, as I intend to keep the car off road at the moment. But when I checked my car on the Motor Insurance Database (MID), it recognized my car. Apparently it is ok to drive this car, although I haven't bought insurance for it. Do you think this is ok, or will I be stopped by the police driving this car?""

I don't no where to pay my insurance or how to pay it?

telling me how do i pay my insurance and where do i pay it

How does the insurance company know what Annual Mileage I am actually doing?

I bought a car last Sunday from a private seller, but was not able to drive it home because of no insurance. The person kindly offered to keep the car in his garage till I get an insurance cover. Today I went to pickup my car, but that guy was not there, his friend was there to hand me the keys and drive back home. When I test drove the car it was 87k miles exact, now today when I collected it, it went upto 87,806 miles, +806 miles extra. The seller is not answering my calls, the only thing worrying me is that I quoted my Annual Mileage up 6000miles, but already my car raked up 806 miles in one week. Please help, and don't abuse coz I am already down being cheated? Why bad things happen with do-gooder?""

Is renter's insurance required for tenants in california?

Can I get insurance??

Im 18 years old. I have never had insurance before because my parents have never had insurance. I just graduated from high school. I need insurance to help pay for some dental work. I dont have a job yet but Im working on getting one for the summer before i go to school. I know I am legally an adult so isnt there some kind of poor young peoples' insurance I can get? Or can I still apply for medicare or something because I am still basically under my mothers care. I appreciate any suggestions.

Can you get insurance on a scooter? And would it be cheaper than car insurance?

Help with insurance cost info please?

I'm 17 and my parents are going to buy me a new VW Beetle when I pass my test. They keep telling me the insurance is going to be high though, could someone give me an idea of how much insurance is for someone my age? Thanks""

Car insurance quotes for a young male driver?

I finally passed my driving test (yesterday :D) and yeah I wasn't expecting to be able to get cheap car insurance, but i thought it would at least be somewhat affordable! I have used 3 different websites and filled out there forms. I have been quoted around 4000 to insure a Pegueot 106, Zest 3, 1.1L (1998-2003) model. What a joke. Is there something im doing wrong here? Is there a way to get it knocked down to something affordable? 2000-3000 at the most! I have seen the co-up young drivers insurance and that seems to put it at a affordable price, but I really don't want to have a smart box installed. Id hate to feel constantly paranoid about my driving and risk it going up due to mistakes. It would have to be a last resort. So far Ive looked at the Vauxhall corsa SXi, Renault Clio hatchbacks and of course the Peugeot 106's. So guys if you have any knowledge on cars that are best to insure for young drivers and the cheapest insurance companies, please could you help? It would be really appreciated as its very important I get a car and insurance as soon as possible. Thankyou!""

My car insurance got cancel?

I have to pay 2,700 to get my car insurance back is their any car insurance companies that can let me have car insurance now? And I still can pay off the 2.700?""

How to check a car has insurance or not?

All the information I know: car plate number, vehicle identification number and a expired Progressive insurance policy number. Can I still check my car current insurance online?""

New driver looking for cheap insurance?

california long term care insurance quotes

Wat is the best small car and cheap on insurance?

Unemployed 18 to 25 year olds forced to have health insurance under Obamas plan?

if you where laid off, then your ok. But if you quit your last job you will be required by law to keep health insurance or be fined $2700/yr. And by the way thats $225/mo. for the ...show more""

Vintage car insurance rates?

I'm 17 and looking to buying a vintage Alfa Romeo or something. Would insurance be sky high? Are rates higher for older cars that are classified as vintage?

I am trying to find affordable heath insurance in CA?

I would also like some info on what the deductibles mean, etc.""

Will my mom's car insurance go up because of my speeding ticket?

Ok...I was driving my mom's suburban truck...I was doing 45 in a 35. I am not on my mom's insurance but the ticket is in my name in my mom's truck. The ticket is 81.50...I only had my license for a year...my mom never had a ticket...ever...so her insurance is like cheap...she gas state farm...will her insurance go up? I don't want to tell her.

Buying a used car and auto insurance?

I'm looking to get a used car in the US, but I have several questions regarding this: 1) I will have to get auto insurance before buying the car and driving it on the road. How can I do this if I haven't bought a car though? 2) I'm a non-US citizen, and I have no credit rating at the moment. Will insurance companies deny my application or will my premium go up? 3) I will be relocating to another state after getting the car. Therefore, can I purchase auto-insurance in my current state first for a month, and then purchase it again once I reside in the new state? What's the best way to handle the insurance matters in this situation? Thanks for all the help.""

Auto insurance for a 19 yr old with a 1989 corvette?

My uncle is handing his 1989 C3 Corvette over to me as a present for getting my license.. I was wondering how much insurance would probably run me..I'm 19. College Student. Good GPA. Employed. I Live in Vegas if that helps. Thanks much!

Can you get car insurance with out a licence?? if so..how so?

i just bought a car for my mom...who is without a licence. but she needs a car to take her drivers test in. (this is tecnically my frist car) can i get the car registered without insurence?...and if not....can i get insurence for an unlicensed driver?...or will we have to have a licenced driver get insurence for the car..and put my mom as unlicenced driver till she takes the test?? i just need a little help on how the prosses goes. thank you very much. kathleen

Does anyone know a good insurance company that will insure a young driver on a sports car?

i'm buying a convertible with a 1.8 engine i'm having trouble finding quotes below 4000, if anyone could suggest some cheap insurance companies that would be great!""

How much does medical insurance for a newborn cost monthly with a premium?

I just need an average. I'm doing a project for my health class on the costs of having a baby.

""What are good cars for new, young drivers?""

Looking for an automatic transmission for a first car, which isn't too pricey to insure. limit of 6,000, so pre-owned cars are likely to be the kind of thing bought. cars such as VW polo and golf, Peugeot 207 and ford fiesta. so something small, but not as small as toyota iq or aygo.""

I got a speeding ticket and the car has insurance but i do not.?

I got a speeding ticket in California. I was doing 65 in a 50 zone and was wondering how much the ticket would cost. Also, the car i drove has insurance under my sister and mom's name but i do not have insurance, but he did not write me up for not having insurance. How does this work? Will my license be suspended and will i have to pay another fine?""

I need cheap car insurance?

Teenage Car Insurance Question?

I am a new teenage driver about to go for his license in a few weeks. Before I do I have to be on one of my parents insurance plans. My mom says that adding me to hers would be about $1800 yearly and my dad just says that that is ridiculously high. I don't know which one of them to believe on this issue so: How much is average teenage car Insurance

What is a cheep insurance for an 18 year old guy?

Hi i am 18 an live with my parents.I live in Louisiana an have a little white Nissan.I was just wondering about how much would it cost me a mouth for car insurance and what insurance company would be the best to go to.Any information would be helpful thank you very much.

Car scratch - insurance rates?

How much would by insurance rate go up by if I caused a 750 dollar car scratch to another vehicle? My insurance rate monthly is at 62 dollars. I just want to know if that could double or be extremely drastic because i don't know if it would be better to just pay out of my own pocket. thx

How can I get my my insurance to pay for my nose job?

I had deviated septum surgery last Spring and now I want rhinoplasty. My nose was fairly large before my surgery now I have an even larger bump on my nose. I know that my insurance ...show more

Car insurance for 16 yr old boy driving subaru impreza WRX?

I want to get a white 5 speed subaru impreza WRX (wagon sport) with turbo (standard). How much do you think this would cost considering that i'm 16 yrs old and the car is white and i get good grades? thanks

Cheapest car insurance in Wisconsin?

I'm 19 and am looking to buy a 06/07 Cobalt SS coupe (non-supercharged) and am wondering what the cheapest insurance would be? Personal experience?

How much is a teen's car insurance per month?

I am planning to get a 2004 Lexus is300. I know because it is a luxury car, the insurance will be a little higher, but the car is 10 years old...I am recently licensed, a female, and I have a 4.0 gpa so I know I will have some discounts. I will be turning 18 in 6 months but will only be having my license for less than a year. So if any other teen, parent, or car insurance agent knows how much a teen's car insurance would be for a 10 year old luxury car (specifially Lexus), please help me out by letting me know!""

Car Insurance parked hit and run question?

I have USAA as my auto insurance. Here's the back story. I was parallel parked alongside a street here in Atlanta and a car (more than likely) was trying to get out of his/her space and hit the left driver side bumper pretty hard (ruining the paint and loosening up the bumper pretty good...and cracking the tail light). This person did not leave a note. I have my 500 deductible. I also have uninsured motorists coverage. Right now USAA is saying that I will have to pay the $500 ded. Why couldn't they put it under the uninsured motorists coverage I have instead so I wouldn't have to pay a dime? Is it within reason to call them and ask for this issue to be adjusted? If so, what points can I make to insure I get the deductible taken care of under the uninsured motorists coverage? Thank you for your help!""

What's the best individual health/dental insurance that i can purchase?

Can a car have two insurance policies but two different drivers?

for instance i have a car and i am insured with my insurance company, can my friend/relative then go and take out another insurance policy from a different company so he can drive, with out having me on his policy. two separate insurance policies for two separate drivers but one car. Thank You for your help""

Where can I get a better health insurance plan ?

I tried with some of the agents, but it is not working out for me. Can anyone help me, If you have taken any health insurance plan.""

Which would be less insurance wise?

I'm trying to figure out what car i want for my 16th birthday.. I've absolutely fell in love with the subaru wrx hatchback. the only thing im worried about is the fact that the insurance rates Might be high. i also like the Genesis Coupe 2.0t and i was wondering which would be more expensive insurance wise. Also what you think about them being first vehicles. and please no<, you should get a POS for a first vehicle... Thanks in advance!! The insurance company is usaa and nothing on the record""

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https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/portland-maine-cheap-car-insurance-quotes-zip-4109-brenda-best/"

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grubhivemind · 7 years

Text

--supersonicFoxtrot [SF] began pestering primadonnaTartuffe [PT]--

SF: >Yo!!!<

SF: >sup online party gurl<

PT: oh haaaay.

PT: not much im just winding down for family festivities.

SF: >o right its human egg day or sumthing<

SF: >rite?<

PT: right you are.

PT: the eggman has risen on this day.

PT: my boyfriends dad always makes a big deal out of holidays so i crashed that affair.

SF: >lmaooo<

SF: >noice<

SF: >i got to say egg rising man day is so confusing sounding culturally<

SF: >sounds like ur celebrating massive birthdays<

SF: >or troll babies<

PT: no you see this is the time of year we celebrate dr robotik aka eggman well known nemesis of sonic the hedgehog.

SF: >who now wut face?<

PT: dont be so fucking insensitive towards my culture.

SF: >ur human customs are WEIRD ryanne<

PT: is it WEIRD to paint eggs with your sonic ocs???

SF: >um yah<

SF: >why do u want to paint EGGS<

SF: >when u can eat them<

PT: why not both?

SF: >do u do both?<

PT: YEAH. painting them doesnt make them inedible.

SF: >o well shit<

SF: >pfft well I hope u ate a lot of eggs<

PT: im just FULL of eggs.

SF: >pfftt<

SF: >so full of eggs u might as well be<

SF: >a mother grub<

PT: thats me. one big elegant mama.

SF: >snrk<

SF: >beautiful<

SF: >I guess tho cus of ur human holiday<

SF: >u aren't around to hang out<

PT: eh well me and my folks came home.

PT: i could sneak away for the rest of the evening.

SF: >OvO<

SF: >lets sneak out and party<

PT: yeah buddy.

PT: where you wanna meet?

SF: >I'm fine meeting wherever<

SF: >but how bout the park near the skaianet buildin<

PT: ah yes i know it well.

PT: ill be right there.

SF: >sweeet<

SF: >catch u there<

NELLIE: -Whenever Ryan shows up there in the future, Nellie is already in the dimly lit park.-

NELLIE: -He's trying hand stands on his hoverboard like a dorkus.-

RYAN: -wanders over, hands in the pockets of her hoodie. when she sees this goofy boy, she snorts.- ohhh wow im so impressed.

NELLIE: -He doesnt hear her and she goes unnoticed until his hover board pivots around so hes facing her and then he startles a little. Enough to fall off his board and flop to the ground right on his ass.- OOF!

NELLIE: Oh. Hai, Ryanne.

NELLIE: -Snrks and hoists himself back up onto his feet to dust himself off.-

RYAN: -grins- hey.

RYAN: didnt know you were a boarder.

RYAN: can i see it?

NELLIE: Pfft. Yah I've picked it up over the last few years. -Snatches the board out of the air and then offers it to her.-

NELLIE: Yuh know how to stand on one?

RYAN: yeah sure. i used to steal my brothers all the time. -takes it and lies it down in front of her before she starts to climb up on it.-

RYAN: -wobbles- ohhh shit. its been a while tho haha.

NELLIE: -Watches her wobble and snickers.- Here want a hand?

NELLIE: -offers his hand out and goes to stand next to the board.- Just dont go tuh high or yuh will either fall off or drag me up hehe.

RYAN: -places her hand in his just to balance herself- lol i would consider the latter but im not strong enough to lift you. so wed have double trouble there.

RYAN: -lifts off the ground and takes her hand with her so she can zip around a little. she definitely seems competent with this thing. suddenly she's having flashbacks to dirk teaching her how to use a hover board...-

NELLIE: -Good! That she doesnt fall anyways.- There yuh go!

NELLIE: Yuh got this gurl. -Makes sure to stay as her balance point.- Yuh have got the hang of this.

RYAN: hell YEAH i do!! PCHOOOO.

RYAN: -but she gets bored right away, slowing to a stop. she stays hovering there for a moment though.-

RYAN: so what were you thinking about partying?

NELLIE: Hmm!

NELLIE: Well we culd do a lot of things.

NELLIE: We culd go out. There are clubs and bars and stuff still open. Or we culd hang out here sum more. Or go anywhere.

NELLIE: -Grins at her.- Partying is sub ject uv.

RYAN: -thousand yard stare. teetering back and forth on this board.- i wanna go to a club... -kind of trails off like there's an implied BUT-

NELLIE: -Raises a brow at her implied but.-

NELLIE: Well oh kay then lets go tuh one ell oh ell!

RYAN: ...

RYAN: yeah alright. -she tells herself she won't drink, she'll just dance.-

RYAN: -hops off the hover board.-

NELLIE: -Well there are other things to do at clubs besides drink.-

NELLIE: -Anyways the moment Ryan hops off is when Nellie hops up and mounts his board before once more offering her a hand.- Here cum on up. Dunt worry I can balance us both, and its faster tuh get tuh this place I know.

RYAN: well up i go again. -takes his hand and hikes back up onto the board.- where we headed? i probably know it.

NELLIE: I like this place called The Aquarium. Its gut all those surfaces that are really fish tanks. Its batt shit awe sum!

NELLIE: Oh kay suh hold ontuh me so yuh dont go flying off. Oh and once we start moving I wont be able tuh keep reading yur lips cus I'll be focusing ahead. if yuh need sumthing just tap me, oh kay? -Once she is up and steady, Nellie kicks them off and they start zooming through the air at high speeds. Its only because he has a passenger that Nellie wont show off and do flips.-

RYAN: -read her lips? HE WAS DEAF THIS WHOLE TIME AND DIDN'T TELL HER? wow. incredible. except she doesn't even care. she holds onto him with one arm and waves an ok hand :ok_hand: in his face before they take off.-

NELLIE: -He forgets to tell people Ryan. Nellie used to advertise it more but over the years he has gotten so used to reading lips and speaking without sign language that it just slips his mind most of the time. Also he doesnt see why it would matter either.-

NELLIE: -Thanks to his speedy flight skills, they arrive outside the club before too long. Nellie slowly lowers the board closer to the ground so they can hop off.- Ladies first.

RYAN: oh thank you. :yum: -plops onto her feet and steps away fro mthe board to give him room, also to approach the building. she's definitely familiar with it. if she recalls correctly, it was fairly new before she left skaia. but maybe she's thinking of something else. her memory of that time is pretty hazy at this point.

NELLIE: -Once Ryan is safely at a distance Nellie dismounts his board and before he hits the ground he stores it back into his sylladex. How cool is he? Not at all...-

NELLIE: Oh kay suh we heading straight in? -Offers Ryan his arm.-

RYAN: -was he being cool? she didn't even see because she zoned out, but her attention snaps back to him when he speaks. it takes a moment to register the question and the arm being offered to her, but she loops hers in his and nods.-

RYAN: lets do this shit.

NELLIE: -Aww thats okay, she will get other chances to see him try and be cool later.-

NELLIE: -Maybe.-

NELLIE: Hell yah. -He is going to walk her up to the doorman, they dont even have to wait in line too long and as long as they both flash their IDs (Nellie will cover the entrance fee for Ryan) they get in without any hassle.-

NELLIE: -Inside the club music is pounding, people are crowded on the dance floor which is see through into a large tank filled with all sorts of strange and wondrous sea life, and there are drink servers dressed in dazzling mermaid themes. There are cocktail menus based on shipwrecks and tropical fish, and the several bars placed around the club and each one features tanks of different species of small critter, from colorful nudibranchs to hue flashing cuttlefish. Its an all over kind of ridiculous venue.-

RYAN: -yeeees. she is all about this aesthetic and that bass is already infecting her, getting her pumped up and bringing her right back to the frequent evenings she spent in clubs just like this one.-

RYAN: -bobs and shimmies into the crowd, dragging nellie with her. she'll make her way to the bar eventually, but first she has to dance her way through all these people. and sing along to the music playing, of course. she turns towards nellie to dance at him. GET IN ON THIS BRO.-

NELLIE: -Now it is his turn to be led. Nellie laughs as Ryan pulls him into the crowds after her, and when she starts to dance he is only a little hesitant to join her. Usually he is not a big dancing person given that he has a hard time noticing rhythm, but clubs like these always blast the music hard enough that he can physically feel the beat and thats why he likes this place.-

NELLIE: -He is going to gently hip check Ryan, watching her sing but hardly being able to make sense of it anyways.- Heheh!

RYAN: -she's a firm believer that you don't need to have rhythm to dance... you just need it to be GOOD. and being good ain't what dancing is about.- oohp! -laughs and bumps him back with her big butt. then falls into a butt bumping rhythm.-

NELLIE: -Good thing its not about being good because hes really not. But he can butt bump! And he will keep it going so long as she does.-

NELLIE: Oh kay suh yuh can ride a hover board and dance?? Daaayyyuuummm!!

RYAN: im skilled in all sorts of things. -snickers and starts wiggling her way in the direction of the bar. mimes throwing a lasso at him and pulling him in to follow.-

NELLIE: Um I bettah get tuh see the rest of these things then. -Yes please guide him around. Truth be told its great to just follow around a strong personality person sometimes, and Ryan fits this criteria for him.-

NELLIE: -Hes going to slide up to the bar next to her tough and start looking over drinks.-

NELLIE: Wuts yur poison?

RYAN: -it's ALL poison.- mmm... -it's a little overwhelming since she hasn't really been to a club where she can order GOOD drinks in a while. she's mostly been dipping into the hard lemonades when she's feeling weak.-

RYAN: ill take a blushing margarita first off.

NELLIE: Blushing marga rida? -He hasn't heard of that one before, but hey learn something knew each time you go to the bar. Hes going to flag down the bar tender for the both of them and order her one, and a screwdriver for himself.-

NELLIE: -They are quickly prepared and placed in front of the two of them on little anchor themed coasters. Nellie sips his the moment is ready and turns to chin hand at Ryan.- What do yuh think of this place so far?

RYAN: -SCHLOOORP.- i think its the bees fucking knees my dude.

RYAN: i was right tho... ive been here before. its just been a while.

NELLIE: Yah? How cum? Yuh got another place yuh like tuh go tuh now?

NELLIE: This is my personal fave I think.

NELLIE: I really like watching all the fish ell oh ell. -He snickers and sips more of his drink.-

RYAN: mmm. well...

RYAN: last time i was here it was before i moved.

RYAN: see i moved from skaia to lopan for a while.

RYAN: but i ended up comin back a few months ago. and uh... i havent done much social drinking since then. -says this guiltily... but nothing she can't drown down.-

NELLIE: -Dont worry Ryan he isnt going to pry. Nellie is a strong believer in leaving the past in the past.-

NELLIE: Aww well thanks for cuming out with me tuhnight if its not usually yur thing.

NELLIE: Also well come back tuh skaia!

NELLIE: Consider this yur late homecoming.

RYAN: thanks man. -yeah... she's definitely not gonna elaborate if he doesn't ask. sips this drink.-

RYAN: maybe ill join ya from now on if you frequent this place.

NELLIE: Um Im all abut that?

NELLIE: Im always looking for new pals tuh hangout with. -Gives her a fangy grin.-

NELLIE: I dunt always go here though. I also dunt mind partying in the cumforts of hive yuh know?

RYAN: yeah dude thats got its merits too.

RYAN: if you wanna low key kinda party. which isnt always my thing necessarily... im a go big or go home kinda gal.

RYAN: ... -sips- a bad analogy. but you get what i mean.

NELLIE: -Raises a brow at her.- Yah?

NELLIE: Sounds like yuh know how tuh have a gud time. Got tuh say its been a while since I've intentionally gone hard at anything.

NELLIE: I kinda am used tuh coasting over a long period of time.

RYAN: hahah thats probably smarter anyways.

RYAN: but what the fuck is moderation i ask.

NELLIE: A suggestion probubly?

NELLIE: At least thats how I take it.

NELLIE: Treat yurself yuh know.

RYAN: -laughs a little about that. hoo boy... that's some shitty piece of advice right there, but she really is not equipped to argue with it. not when deep down it's something she agrees with anyways.-

RYAN: darn fucking tootin. -downs this drink and flags the bar tender over for another. it begins.-

NELLIE: -Oh shit, she finished that quick. Nellie doesn't want to seem like a light weight to his new club buddy, so of course as Ryan flags down the bar tender he swings back the last of his vodka and orange juice in one go so he can get another and they can be even.- (Shiiiit.)

NELLIE: Oh kay Ryanne we should like.

NELLIE: Yuh should tell me more about yuh. Or wait like. We culd play a game like tuh lies one truth.

NELLIE: Or whutever its called hahah.

NELLIE: I want tuh know more about yuh.

RYAN: oooo i love games like that.

RYAN: let me think. :thinking: -grabs her new drink and sips thoughtfully.-

RYAN: ok i got it.

RYAN: my mom is a famous musician. :microphone:

RYAN: this isnt my natural eye color. :eye:

RYAN: ive never ridden a horse before. :horse:

NELLIE: OOooooohh oh kay, oh kay um.

NELLIE: -Squints at her as he thinks.- Yuh said yuh sing. And yuh can dance... suh the mom thing might be true...

NELLIE: Im pretty sure thats yur eye color...

NELLIE: Nuh, I'm going tuh say yuh have never ridden a horse befur.

RYAN: ding dong you are wrong.

RYAN: my mom IS famous. you ever heard of robyn saint?

NELLIE: -Dramatic gasp.-

NELLIE: The Rob bin saint?????

NELLIE: ....pfft nuh, I'm not really a big music guy.

RYAN: wow i cant imagine WHY.

RYAN: shes kind of niche anyway so im not surprised when people havent heard of her. plus she hasnt been super active for a while... kind of a moldy oldie lmao.

RYAN: anyways ive DEF ridden a horse before.

RYAN: my big brother used to take a bunch of us kids in the family to horse ranches because hes like unhealthily obsessed with horses.

NELLIE: Hahah wow.

NELLIE: I saw a horse like. Once.

NELLIE: -Finishes his second drink and places the glass down on the bar with a pleasant sigh.-

NELLIE: Oh kay suh my turn then? Hmm.

NELLIE: I graduated wuth a degree in arow-dinamics.

NELLIE: Ive never been ahrested.

NELLIE: I'm lactose intollerint.

RYAN: ooooo tough... :thinking:

RYAN: im gonna say you got an aerodynamics degree.

RYAN: becaaause i choose to believe theres a fun story behind you getting arrested and also that you dont suffer from an affliction as terrible as lactose intolerance.

NELLIE: NUPE!

NELLIE: I cant touch cheez without suffuring. And also I never finished school feeding ell em ay oh. -He snickers.-

RYAN: damn!! thats the saddest thing that ever got said.

RYAN: the cheese thing... ive never gotten proper schooling either haha.

RYAN: :eyes: but you have been arrested?

NELLIE: Yahhh it sucks majer bulge.... Still doesnt stahp me from eating it though.

NELLIE: -Orders himself a third screw driver.- And eyup.

NELLIE: I went tuh jail for like a month tuh. It wus a real long time ago.

NELLIE: Yuh are technically looking at a reformed felon.

Sari-04/18/2017

RYAN: :scream:

RYAN: can i ask what you did?

NELLIE: Heh well...

NELLIE: -Sips more drank.-

NELLIE: Mostly shop lifting.

RYAN: oooo mostly. i cant believe im fraternizing with a deliquent. -snickers-

RYAN: ol sticky fingers nellie.

NELLIE: Hahaha yuh thats me.

NELLIE: I wus a thief. -Among other things...-

NELLIE: Now I just fly ships and get high on thuh weekends.

RYAN: takes breaks from flying high to fly high. sounds like a good life to me.

RYAN: im still... between careers lol. i think i mentioned that. i cant remember.

NELLIE: Yuh might of but I didnt remember either though haha.

NELLIE: Thats oh kay though.

NELLIE: -Taps his fingers on the bar.- Hmm.

NELLIE: Also like.

NELLIE: If its a gud life yuh want to try. Its still kind of the week end?

RYAN: ... -I shouldn't, I really really shouldn't. she keeps telling herself that.-

RYAN: i mean i aint about to deny the invitation.

NELLIE: -He is grinning more now and straightens himself up.- Well shit.

NELLIE: Then like. I've gut stuff at my place? Yuh know anything about Wish?

RYAN: -finishes up THIS drink quickly too.- sure ive heard of it.

RYAN: never tried it before tho.

NELLIE: -:eyes:-

NELLIE: Duh yuh want tuh?

NELLIE: I'm a little new tuh it tuh but.

NELLIE: I like it. A friend shared it with me suh its only right i give the same chance tuh another.

RYAN: sharing is caring after all...

RYAN: lets do it.

NELLIE: It shure as hell is. -He winks back and then slides the bar tender money for the drinks they've had so far.-

NELLIE: We culd head there now, or keep hanging out here for a while more but.

NELLIE: If we duh stay here I'm cutting mahself off suh I can still fly us back safe.

NELLIE: Its up tuh yuh, Ryanne.

RYAN: hmmmm.

RYAN: eh we can split. im feeling a little crowded anyways.

NELLIE: Well in that cayse. -He stands up from the barstool and offers Ryan his arm.-

NELLIE: Can I escort yuh out, buddy?

RYAN: -slides off and loops arms with him once again.- such a gentleman.

NELLIE: I try. Cunsider it making up for being an ex con.

NELLIE: -He is going to lead her through the crowds and out the nearest exit then. When they get back outside into the fresh night air Nellie decaptchalogs his board again and once more will help Ryan up onto it with him. He's not too wobbly despite having three drinks in him.- I'm fifteen minnuts from here, suh same rules as last time tap if yuh need somethin!

RYAN: -she's feeling a little woozy after getting onto her feet, which is strange to her. her tolerance used to be much higher but then again she's been sober for like 9 months now. she nods in understanding, clambering up onto the board with him.-

RYAN: right right i got you.

NELLIE: Oh kay then hold on tight! -Once he says that Nellie is zooming up into the night sky. He goes pretty fast, but stays in control the whole time. Zipping through the air on a hoverboard is like second nature to him after all these years.-

NELLIE: -They arrive at his apartment building in the time that was promised. More specifically they arrive on the roof and Nellie leads Ryan down a set of fire escapes after tucking away his hoverboard again. After that he just slides open the window to the livingroom and presto!- Heh, hivestem sweet hivestem.

NELLIE: -He slides on in and then will give Ryan a hand if she needs help getting in.- Pretty sure mah roommate is out until wednesday but if yuh feel like sumthing is watching yuh thats probubly her ell oh ell.

NELLIE: -The place isnt too fancy. But its got a decent kitchen, and furniture. There is one full bathroom and two bedrooms that branch off from the living room.-

RYAN: -thanks for the help friendo. she slips inside, pointedly ignoring the gut feeling she has that this whole situation is wrong and she should know better. she doesn't even know nellie that well, and yet she's throwing caution to the wind and accepting drugs from an acquaintance someplace she's unfamiliar with. just like the good old days...-

RYAN: its cool im always down to be watched.

RYAN: -distracts herself from her inner turmoil by wandering around the place, inspecting anything and everything there is to look at.-

NELLIE: -Its a nice place! Its well lit and there are video games and movies on the shelf by the tv. The couch is covered with strewn blankets (Whoops he didnt know he'd have company) but overall its pretty homey.- Oh kay yuh chill out for two seconds I'm going tuh get the stuff. Bee are bee.

NELLIE: -He waves her towards the sitting area and she can sit on the couch or the arm chair near the coffee table. Nellie slips towards one of the back rooms, and when he comes bag he has an old fiduspawn card tin in his hands.-

RYAN: -flops onto the couch and makes herself cozy, looking around until he returns.- oh shit is it time to duel?

NELLIE: -The blankets are very cozy, soft and clean smelling if she wants to get super comfy.- Heh, yah always??

NELLIE: -Sits himself on the floor and puts the tin on the coffee table before opening it. Inside is a collection of weed, cigarettes, a nasal spray bottle, and then a bunch of these strange body patches.-

NELLIE: -He takes out the bottle and a patch.- Oh kay suh yuh have got options here. I never used this spray but its a more direct and faster high? Suh yuh can use it if yuh want. Im a fan of these though. -Holds up the patch.-

NELLIE: It melts intuh yur skin over time suh its a longer lasting high.

RYAN: hmm... -considers her options carefully.-

RYAN: okay like.

RYAN: its not gonna kill me if i take a shot of this and then slap on a patch is it?

RYAN: im talking immediate health risks. im well beyond the long term kind.

NELLIE: Proububly not? I mean I did tuh patches at once this one time.

NELLIE: But yuh are going tuh feel that shit pfft.

NELLIE: Its kind of a high like weed. But more in the front of yur pan if yuh get that?

NELLIE: Makes shit heavy and light at the same time. Warms yuh up.

RYAN: oh okay that doesnt sound so bad.

RYAN: -grabs that nasal spray.- gonna get me a WHIFF. -examines this bottle to assess how it's used before she does the honors. WHOOF. she seems a little surprised, blinking and shaking her head after it tickles up her nose.-

RYAN: alright alright. now slap me with one of those thingers. i dunno where the ideal place to stick it is.

NELLIE: -Watches her figure out the spray and snickers a little as he hands her a patch.- Peel off the back first. And I like tuh put them on the small of mah back.

NELLIE: Or shoulder. -He takes a patch for himself, peels off the back and lifts his shirt and sticks it on the skin of his shoulder. Nellie then rubs the patch just to warm it up faster so his body can absorb it sooner.-

RYAN: -peels off the back of the patch and lifts up her shirt around her middle, slapping it onto her back. depending on where he's sitting, he might catch a glimpse of the tattoo covering almost all of her back when she leans over.-

RYAN: cool. now the party can truly begin.

NELLIE: Hehe hell yah. Let me know if yuh want snacks or sumthing tuh? Ive got stuff tuh munch on.

NELLIE: -He just catches the sight of her tat out of the corner of his eye and he leans a little to try and see more of it.- Oooh.

NELLIE: Thats sick looking? Yur tattoo.

RYAN: oh yeah. let me give you the full experience. -lifts her the back of her shirt up higher since it goes all the way up to her shoulder blades. a beautiful blue and pink peacock tattoo stretches over the expanse of her skin.-

RYAN: okay its not the full experience because otherwise id be flashing my ass at you.

NELLIE: Pfft. Well thanks. -But still :eyes: all over the designs.- Wow.

NELLIE: Nuh seriously thats sum amazing werk.April 20, 2017

RYAN: right? theyve got some killer tattoo artists on lopan.

RYAN: you ever go there much? i bet youd be into that scene.

NELLIE: -Shakes his head.- Nahh. But now it's on my list ell oh ell.

NELLIE: Whut kind of place is it?

RYAN: shit dude its like the night life planet.

RYAN: great for partying. great for artsy folk. but thats in the cities.

RYAN: in the desert its junker city like its star wars or some shit.

NELLIE: Wait junkers? Whut can yuh buy parts out there? -Hes all about old ship junk.-

NELLIE: If suh then yah this seems like a place I need tuh guh tuh ay ess ay pee.

RYAN: -smirks and nods- yeah exactly like that.

RYAN: makes sense. most of you space truckers are into that it seems like. -tilts her head, resting it on her hand and equilibrium seems thrown off so suddenly she almost falls over to the side. whoa there. guess this shit is kicking in and she's got lead in her head, but it must be the airiness keeping her upright..-

RYAN: im feeling it mister krabs.

NELLIE: -Ryan please do not fall over, he would feel real bad if you did.- Oh em gee.

NELLIE: Well take it easy oh kay? -His is a slower building high, but Nellie can really start to feel his body warm up as the drugs are absorbed into his system.- Ahh its the shit though rite?

RYAN: its real nice dude... im starting to chill way the fuck out now. hahaha. -passes a hand through her hair.-

RYAN: you said something about snacks?

NELLIE: I probubly did.

NELLIE: Yuh like popcorn. Chips?

RYAN: why not both?

#supersonicFoxtrot #primadonnaTartuffe #in which ryan falls off the wagon #cw: drug use

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hatohouse-blog · 7 years

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wellmeaningshutin · 7 years

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Short Story #54: Favors.

Written: 3/1/2017

Okay, I’ll admit it, it was my fault, I fucked up big time. My anger should’ve been kept in check, and I should’ve attempted to cool off instead of decided to stew in it, letting it fester and boil until I did something stupid. Sure, it was reasonable to be upset that he cheated on me, but I should have just kicked him out, thrown all of his shit onto the front lawn and told him to find a new place to stay, and that he shouldn’t call me or even try to talk to me, because there would be no chance that we would even get back together. When he was blubbering as he told me the story of his adultery, I should’ve told him that it was my right to be crying, and that he was being a manipulative and controlling asshole by trying to take the role of the victim away from me. I should’ve told him that it wasn’t a genuine mistake if it was premeditated, it was cheating in the first degree. I should of said any of that, instead of letting him make his pitiful racket, while I carried on with an imaginary argument in my head, letting all of the rage build up inside of me instead of venting it out on him, like a healthy person would do. Hell, I should of, at the very least, used that golf club to smash in his car windows, headlights, side mirrors, hood, fender, trunk, any of that instead of using it to bash in his pathetic face.

But I guess hindsight is 20/20, so what was the point in worrying about what I should’ve done? He was just a bloody lump on my favorite rug, without even a face for me to hate, since red paste, teeth, brains, and a tongue had replaced the look of fear he had only a couple minutes before. Even though I did something really awful, you could still say that I’m a better person than him because when he cheated on me, and killed our relationship, it was premeditated, but when I caved his face in it was just in the heat of the moment. And in a way, he worked very hard at bringing that evil out of me, since I would never even consider doing that to somebody unprovoked. Although, I still have to admit blame, I’m the one who killed him, it was no fault but mine.. And my parents who constantly fought in front of me, which lead me to develop inappropriate anger management skills that, when combined with the events of that night-

Shit, I’m doing it again. My fault, my fault, my fault.

Its really important for me to accept the blame, because it gives me a sense of moral superiority that I desperately need. I need to know that I’m a good enough person to understand that I’ve done something wrong, but not only that, I also feel bad about it, and not in a forced way to make people like me. These are real tears I’m crying. Okay, well, I’m not crying now, but I think I’ve run out of tears, or my eyes are exhausted. He, the man without a face, would never accept blame for anything he did, which was explicitly clear when he was on his knees, crying crocodile tears, telling me how he didn’t mean to download that dating app, meet a girl with drinks at a bar, and then go back to her place where they had gross, unprotected.. Well, you know. The only reason he was crying for forgiveness was because one of his friends told me. Asshole. Plus, none of my neighbors would ever accept guilt for the shit that they’ve done, they always say shit like “Well, if I don’t do it then somebody else will”, “This is the way its supposed to be, they’re all wrong”, or “I’m being reasonable here, it her who is confused”, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

So, that night, I had to get rid of the body somehow. Now, if it went to court and stuff I could maybe explain how it was heat of the moment, and argue temporary insanity or something, but then I would have to live in jail for a while, then everyone would know what I did, they’d think of me differently, court would drag on forever and I would lose a ton of cash if I wanted somebody decent to represent me, and what happens if I lost? I live in prison for a while? Really, it just seemed much more reasonable to just bury him and pretend like he never came home or something. Might as well try to avoid all of the unnecessary hurdles of the legal system, and the point of prison, anyways, is to correct bad behaviors, and its not like I’m somebody who decided to do this, and this was the only scenario where I would do something like that. Bad luck, that’s all it was. Plus, if Christianity turns out to be right, I’m going to hell anyways, and isn’t that enough punishment?

The easiest way, to get rid of the faceless lump, was to bury it in my backyard, in the space where I already planned to have a tree planted the next day. If I dug deep enough, then the.. What are people who work with trees called? Arbor day is for trees, right? So would they be arborigines? If I dug deep enough, the arborigine wouldn’t even notice that the body, and then the tree would cover him up and not only would my problems go away, but I would also be taking steps to help the environment. Win win! Yet, I have pretty weak arms, and digging a hole that deep was taking way too long. On top of that, I was pretty frantic and wasn’t really thinking straight-you try killing somebody and then acting calm and reasonable afterwards-so I decided to keep the body out there with me, rolled up in what used to be my favorite rug, for an easy measure to see if the hole was deep enough. It didn’t take very long for a nosy neighbor to pop his head over the fence and see me trying to bury a body.

“Watcha doin’ over there? Burying some guy?”

How do you react to that question, especially when its asked so casually? I had no idea of what to do, so I just motioned my dirt encrusted hands in circles, while I mumbled and tried to find a good response. I couldn’t think of one, so I just stood there looking like an asshole.

“Hey, Betty, come check this out.”

“What, what? You know its late, whats so important?”

“She’s digging a hole over there, it looks like she’s burying some guy.”

“Oh, is he dead?”

“Sure seems like it.”

Next thing I know, my elderly neighbor is now poking her head out over the fence, staring at me, the bloody rug, and the hole I’ve tried to dig. I would’ve been worried about getting arrested if they weren’t so amused by the whole situation. Not knowing how to react, I just kept digging. “If you keep working at it like that, you’re going to be digging until the sun comes up, then you’ll have to worry about birds eating the poor fella. We already have too many birds in this neighborhood, probably because Dolorous moved out some time ago and took all of her cats with her, so without those cats you have too many birds, which wont be good with that man laying around. You might as well put up a sign saying you’re giving free lunches to hungry birds, but that would just lead to too many handouts, we have so many of those already, don’t we Betty?”

“Nobody’s working because of welfare. You get paid thousands of dollars to sit on your rear and do drugs, its a shame.”

“Yes, a shame indeed. Now, why don’t I walk over there and help you out with that hole situation? I used to dig holes back in the day, trenches in fact, back when I was in a world war one reenactment. That was about last year, but I think I still have some of the know how.” And without waiting for an answer, he walked around, out of his back yard and into mine, shovel in hand, helping me dig that hole. His wife, Betty, went inside of their home to start making snacks and drinks for us, since we were doing all sorts of hard work.

Then, while we’re half way through the hole, Betty comes over with a large tray sandwiches and a glass pitcher of lemonade, and behind her is some thirty year old guy carrying a fresh pie with oven mitts on, since the thing is steaming hot. Her explanation was, “I needed somebody to help me carry everything, and he seemed like a nice fellow. Plus, with the fight I could hear you having, I assumed that your boyfriend is the man in the rug, so you must be on the market again.”

All the guy had to say was, “Oh, I’m sort of seeing somebody already, I’m not interested. I live down the street by the way, but I only go there to sleep so you’ve probably never noticed me. You guys digging a hole? I could lend a hand with that.” Then he took my shovel, and I’m sitting there with Betty, eating finger sandwiches and talking about the ways that the neighborhood has been changing.

Suddenly, I heard somebody open the gate into my backyard, their footsteps were easily heard on the gravel path, and they announced, “Mm, mm, mm! Is that one of Betty’s famous boysenberry pies? I could smell that from three houses down, and you know I can’t sleep when the smell of pies are in the air.” All of the sudden, Luann, another older neighbor of mine, appears and takes a slice of the pie, and she’s so focused on eating that it takes until she’s licked the filling off of her fingers to even realize what’s happening. “Oh, are you guys burying a body? Whose the poor guy?”

“Its her boyfriend,” Betty says pointing at me, and the men are still digging away, in the hole that is currently waist high. “She’s single now, so if you know anybody-”

“Girl, if I knew anybody that was single, I’d take them for myself.” ==============================================================

Sometime in the afternoon of the next day, the arborigine comes by and plants the tree, right where my favorite rug is buried, and it seems like all of my problems are starting to melt away. I was lucky that he didn’t drive, and relied on the bus to get around, because then I’d have to deal with the hassle of getting rid of a car, but my problems were pretty limited.

Time moved on, and the police eventually started to look into his disappearance, but I just told them that I heard from a friend that he was out with some other girl, then he just never came home. He was a shitty boyfriend in the first place, so I just assumed it was over and he didn’t bother saying anything. I was pretty lucky that he had a reputation for ghosting people, so nothing in the way I acted seemed suspicious to them. On top of that, when they decided to check with the neighbors, just to be extra thorough, they said they never saw him come to my place, and the house had been completely quiet. There was nothing to connect me to the awful thing that I had done, and life was just moving forwards.

It really seemed like I was free. I even started volunteering at soup kitchens, just to start building up some positive karma, giving back to the world to make up what I took away from it. In a way, the whole ordeal, even if it was wicked, made me into a better person, and if the Christian god was real, it seemed like I might actually get into heaven.

What I didn’t know, was that time of peace was really just a honeymoon period in my relationship with evil, which would prove to be much worse than anything that faceless guy had put me through. ==============================================================

One day, about a month later from the whole ordeal, I get home from yoga, which meant that I was exhausted and ready to lounge around for a little while before I had to get to the kitchen. That was usually my favorite moment of the day, where I could watch bad television shows and eat peanut butter. However, when I was putting my key into the lock, I could feel somebody breathing onto the back of my neck. Startled, I turned around to see one of my neighbors who helped me dig the whole, the guy that Betty tried to set me up with. Something was on his mind, but he was clearly having trouble saying it, so he just stared down at his hands which he was wringing together, breath sour and heavy.

“You remember when I helped you out that night?” He spat out after one of the longest minutes of my life.

“Yeah, thanks again for that.” This was said as I was trying to unlock my door and get into the house. The guy was starting to freak me out, but he grabbed my wrist before I could get the door open.

“I need you to return the favor. I helped you out, and now I need you to help me.”

Preparing to stab him with my keys if he asked what I assumed he was ask, I guardedly replied. “What are you asking?”

“Well, its not very much, but there’s.. There’s this girl, and I know that I love her, and its clear that she loves me because she used to say that she would love me forever, but now she’s just confused..”

“Confused?”

“Confused, thinking that she doesn’t love me anymore, but I know she does, because forever isn’t over yet.” Oh god, that awkward laugh. “But, she gave me this,” he fished some crumpled documents out of his pocket, “a-and now I might get into some legal trouble if I get to close to her, which doesn’t make sense because I can clear all of this up really easy if I just got the chance to talk to her. I just need to talk to her for a little bit, just to remind her how she used to feel about me, and then we’ll be in love again.” My facial expression probably expressed what I was thinking, because he had to explain,”I know what it seems like, but it really is just her lawyers who got her all twisted up. I don’t even think she wants this, and I don’t need much for you.” I still stared at him, “Fine. If you don’t help me, I’ll probably get unfairly arrested, but if I do then I might have to give them some information to stay out of trouble…”

So, a half hour later, I’m driving into some apartment complex with the creep in the trunk of my car. Apparently he knows the code to open the gates, but the security has a picture of him, and will stop him if they catch him on any of their cameras, which there are plenty of. All I have to do is drive in, park in front of her apartment, and then let him out of the trunk. After that I can leave and we would be considered even, and in a way I guess he really was true to his word.

The chore really did go as easily as he made it out to be, so he must have really done his homework. Still, it was awful to see, the next day, news reports about the murder suicide that happened in the complex. ==============================================================

So, now my mental health is starting to plummet, now that I have that poor girl’s blood on my hands. The faceless jerk was no problem, but this…

I had trouble sleeping, eating, functioning in general really, and I started to understand what it was like to have anxiety. Charity, yoga, and socializing had taken up less and less of my time, and I considered to take up smoking pot to fill that time. Anything to get me to stop thinking about what I helped accomplish.

One of my old high school friends, that I was in irregular contact with, was a weed dealer who delivered, so in a way they were a life saver. I was so antsy to get that first ounce-I didn’t understand how much was normal to buy, or how little I would have to smoke since I had no tolerance, but I wanted to get enough to last-and spend a half hour sitting in a dining chair, staring at my front door, waiting for the knock, which turned out to be a ring of my doorbell. And when I answered, instead of seeing my dealer, I saw Luann.

Having to text my dealer, telling them that they had to wait a couple hours to come by, was like a blow to my self esteem. Not only because I had to wait for the relief I desperately needed, but also due to the fact that I had to do it in a truck that reeked of cigarettes, and had several containers of gasoline in the back. The whole time the older woman is preaching to me, about how “Modern day churches have become their own religion, and now real Christianity has fallen behind, and goes worshiped”, or,”There are so many places of worship out there that all interpret the bible in their own ways, saying this or that is the real meaning of the text, when really they’re furthering their own gains. Look at one of the big things that Jesus did: he pointed out how the churches were all wrong, and misinterpreted things. He had to come back to Earth to clear things up.” The weirdest part about the ride was when she claimed that she had never read the bible, but knew its true contents because the lord spoke directly to her, and wanted things cleared up.

Getting high and forgetting about that poor girl would’ve been nice, but instead I had to spend it acting as a lookout while that bat-shit insane woman doused the outside of my parent’s church in gasoline, used newspapers as kindling, and.. Well.. A burning church isn’t really something that you can get out of your mind, and on top of that its most likely a one way ticket to hell. Lets just hope that the Christians are wrong. ==============================================================

Things weren’t really too bad after that, because I never had to think about them since I spent so much time slowly thinking about stuff that didn’t matter. It turned out that drugs were really great for getting past personal issues, and it made a lot of sense why so many people with drug problems have come from shitty lives. Its amazing too be out of your head, if your head is full of shit. Its amazing how I can listen to the same album over and over, but every time it feels like I’m hearing it for the first time.

All it takes is a knock on my door to take that paradise away from me, and then again I’m whisked away to something else that I don’t want to be involved in. You know, for a sweet, elderly couple they can’t really ask me to do anything too bad. Before I opened that door, I was expecting them to implore me to join them in their love making, some sort of swinger arrangement, but that wouldn’t be as bad as what I already did, and I was already stoned out of my mind anyways.

The world always finds a way to surprise you.

I’ve been free and clear since that last time I had to help one of my neighbor’s, but I’ve had to invest a lot of my money in psychiatry, and at least I was finally able to find an anti-depressant that didn’t make me suicidal. If I can say anything about that last favor, which I don’t like to think about, I would say this:

If I wasn’t stoned, I don’t think I could’ve been able to do what they asked me. I was lucky that repetitive tasks were so easy under that drug, because there was no way that I would have been able to calmly, and orderly, take all of those balloons out of those poor, poor girls who had their bags burst, which, after a serious of decisions, left them cut open in that garage, with me to do what I was asked to do.

#Free Write #Short Story #Writers on Tumblr #Help #Morality #March

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wellmeaningshutin · 7 years

Text

Short Story #36: Business.

Written: 2/2/2017 (#37 was NSFW, so it was skipped)

Confined in his cubicle, working never seemed like a valid option to Glen. Why spend the day filling out forms, looking over data, profiting margins, or whatever the hell he was supposed to do, when he was guaranteed to never be fired as long as he kept baking treats for his boss? Staring blankly at his computer, he had three windows open at the same time. One was a video detailing how to make home made caramel, he didn’t trust some store bought ingredients, another was a recipe for cheesecake, and the third one was a spreadsheet that somebody emailed him, but he mostly forgot that it was on the screen. He looked at the clock he hung on his wall, always a little lopsided, but whatever, apparently he had to wait a whole hour until it was his lunch break. Getting bored of all of cooking information, he cracked his knuckles, folded his arms over his desk, and rested his head down, closed his eyes, thinking about the show he watched last night (what was its name?) over and over until he drifted off.

“Hey.” He shot up, looked around wildly, did somebody catch him nodding off? He eventually spotted a plain girl with thick glasses, peeking her head over his cubicle. “Whats your take on the spreadsheet?” Rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands, he mumbled something about them being cost effective. For some reason this wasn’t enough for her to go away, and he was confused about what she wanted. Not knowing that he had large red marks on his face, from sleeping at his desk, he turned to his computer, opened up the file, nodded at the screen then nodded at her. She was more confused than he was, “So… is it fine? Should I email it to corporate or..?”

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely send it, great work like always.” He tried staring at her until she went away, and after thirty seconds of uncomfortable eye contact she finally dropped down and disappeared from his little world. Putting his hands behind his head, he reclined and smile, confident about another successful maneuver at work. Almost dozing off again, he realized that it might be break time, but his excitement was ruined since he still had twenty minutes left to go. Why’d that girl bother waking him up then? The phone rang so he picked it up and placed it back down onto the receiver. “You’re doing great today,” he said to himself.

After ten minutes of him taking notes on making carmel, he felt a presence behind him, spun around in his chair, and saw a stumpy, frog looking man in a mint green, short sleeved, button up shirt with a mud color tie and pants. The guy just stared for a while, so eventually he had to take the initiative. “What’s going on?” The words came out awkwardly, but in his head it sounded very calm and professional.

The odd man reached his sweaty hand into his pocket, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and took a little while to unfold it. Glen really wanted to turn away from and ignore this man, who was he anyways? Why was he being such a hassle, didn’t he have a job to do? When the paper was finally unfolded, and the frog man smoothed it against the outer wall of the cubicle, he presented it to Glen. It was another dumb spread sheet. “Did you approve this?”

Not sure at all, he confidently said, “Yes. Yes I did. It was very professional and met up to the standards that we hold here at-” Shit what was the name of the company? He couldn’t think of it, so instead he waved his hand out in front of him.

“What?” The man seemed taken aback, and-while sweating from his brow, causing little wisps of hair to hang down-he quickly reviewed the paper in front of him. “But… None of this makes any sense, the numbers are all wrong.” He held it back up and pointed to a section in the bottom right corner, “And-and I’m pretty sure this is a menu.” Glen scooted his chair forward, not bothering to get up, and stared directly at the paper, which was at his eye level, and it read: turkey club with extra guac, rose-butter ice cream served with caramel sauce, pastrami served over a bed of warm rice and salmon, a cup full of warm soup, chocolate pudding filled with gummy worms and topped with crumbled german chocolate cookies, and so on. It made him hungry, so he spun around and moved his chair over towards his computer, maximizing the window with the cheesecake recipe. The stumpy man lowered the paper, waited for Glen to respond, but after waiting some time he cleared his throat.

Hearing this, Glen turned around, surprised, and then remembered the man was there. “Oh, you need anything else?”

Flustered, the man threw his hands up into the air, “You need to fix this!” He didn’t know why he was even dealing with this problem in the first time, or why it was even so complicated.

Annoyed, Glen snatched the paper from the man, grabbed a pen from his desk, wrote a bunch of random numbers over the menu, and then handed it back to the man, who hurried to examine the changes. Before the guy could realize that it was still probably wrong, he stood up, exclaimed, “Well, its break time for me”, grabbed his coat, and walked towards the exit of the building, whistling, wondering where he was going to eat for lunch.

However, when he was close to the door, the girl from earlier stepped into his path and blocked him. Seeing her full self he could tell that she was plainer than he thought before, wearing some drab, grey attire of a cardigan, button up, and skirt that all seemed to blend into each other. “Herman's upset, I thought you said the sheet was okay!” She seemed pretty pissed at him, but who the hell was Herman? Was that the man who kept bugging him earlier? What the hell did she want from him?

Trying to calm down the situation, while still being as business like as possible, he shook her hand and said, “Don’t worry, the problems solved, the stars have aligned.” Then he briskly walked out of the office before she could have a chance to respond. Why was any of this his problem anyways? The sooner he could get some fresh air and something to eat, the better.

Two blocks down from the bland office complex was a burger joint that would make any burger you wanted, as long as you brought everything other than the patty or bun. It was probably going to go out of business soon, so Glen was trying to get as much out of it as he could before that dreadful day. When he walked in, belling ringing, he saw, like always, that there were no customers and the owner, a tall, Vietnamese man with a thick beard and no eyebrows, was watching the television he kept on the counter. When the owner saw Glen approach, he immediately stood up, beamed, and asked, “So what did you bring into day, Mr. Business?” It was the name Glen had given him as a joke, but after being called this multiple times he started to wonder if the man thought this was really his name, but he sort of liked being called that so he never bothered to check. He put a lunch box-one from his childhood that was faded blue, with a worn off picture that he couldn’t even remember what it originally was-on the counter and slid it over to the owner, who opened to it, laughed, and pulled out: a can of dog food (wet), various mint leaves, sliced salmon (in a smaller container, above an ice pack), and a small hunk of smoked Gouda. “You’re really trying to test me, huh?”

“Well, I figured I might as well see how great of a chef you are, before, well-” After saying that he just looked at his shoes, embarrassed that he even brought it up. After a month of visiting he never talked about the fact that the place might close, but now it felt so weird to say it.

“Before what?” The owner seemed genuinely curious, and studied Glen’s face. “Are you sick or something, what’s going on?”

Waving his hands in front of him to dispel any sense of worry, Glen tried to explain, “No no no, nothing with me… I just figured your business wouldn’t last long is all, well, since there’s never anyone here…” He felt shitty that he had to explain it, especially with the implication that he was a big successful business man, while this restaurant owner was a failure in that sense. The owner met this with a laugh.

“No, I wont go out of business for quite some time.” Collecting the ingredients in his hands, he moved towards the back and fired up the stove, smiling the whole time. “A lot of money comes through here, I don’t even need customers. All I need is for my benefactors to stay in business, my wife to cook the books, and I’ll still be here. Hell,” laughing as he tossed a patty on to the stove, it sizzled, “I’m probably going to die here. Now,” he held the bag of patties in one hand and looked Glen in the eyes, “Single or double?”

“Double, like always.” The owner nodded and tossed another onto the stove. “Uh.” Something wasn’t making sense, “Who are your benefactors? What do you mean by-”

A look the owner gave, one that said “You should know”, made Glen shut up. He took a seat at the counter and fidgeted with his hands. “Do you really not know?” When the owner asked this he didn’t even bother to look up, and was starting to put some dog food and the salmon onto the stove. “I thought you worked in that business complex down the way.”

“Yeah, so? What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Huh. Well, let me finish this up and I’ll tell you a little story.”

The owner’s story:

Well, I heard some rumors about the building from the people who set me up with this restaurant, but I guess its probably not true. You can’t trust those guys very much, but they keep me in business and all I have to do is help cook the books and look the other way, so why should I bother to question them? Oh yeah, the story.

About two years ago, I was a struggling chef working in some chain restaurant, the one with the striped walls and the carnival food, but every day it crushed my soul. When I was young I always expected to be this big chef, where I could have a restaurant that proved my skills, with no menu, where every day customers would come in to challenge my abilities, and every day I would keep showing my skill. I wanted to become a legend. Now, working in a chain restaurant is no way to show your skill. All it really does is hurt your back and give you just enough to give by. It seemed like that was what my life was just going to become.

One day, we get this new kid, supposed to be a new line cook. His arms are covered in gang tattoos but that’s nothing to be surprised about, you would be surprised to know how many chefs in those places have criminal records. However, after working with him, showing him the ropes, chatting with him on smoke breaks, I start to learn that he’s not really interested in working at the place very long. He seemed like a good enough cook, so it surprised me when he said that. The weird thing was, he said he was a talent scout, and he liked the way I was able to serve up meals. He talks about how he’s got all of these big connections, and needs somebody to lead a small restaurant, and wants to see if I’m good enough. So, that night, he put me to the test and I tried really hard to impress him, because if he was telling the truth I was going to get out of that shit hole and make something of myself, even if it was on a small scale. If he was wrong, all I did was waste a little bit of my time and the guy got a good meal. No big deal.

I made him a Monte Christo, but I remember I substituted the meat inside for some fresh fish we had for the meal of the week, and I made up this sauce to go with, and the guy took one bite, went outside to make a phone call, and then he comes back inside and tells me we have to wait a little while. I didn’t know what was going on, so I just shot the shit with him for a little while, until there was a knock on the back door. It was very precise, it had to be a code. The guy opens the door and three men walk in, two big guys who are all tatted up like the line cook, and some older man in a suede suit who doesn’t say a word, walks right over to the sandwich, eats the whole thing, wipes his mouth with a handkerchief he kept in his pocket, and he told me I had the job.

Next thing I know, I’m out of that shitty restaurant, I tell the manager where to shove it, and the mob guys get me this restaurant, which at the time was just a vacant lot. They tell me that I get to design it, because it has to seem like I’m the owner, so its gotta look like its mine. This was great. They tell me they don’t give a shit about the menu and I get to make whatever, but I have to feed them whenever they decide to come by. This is also great, and because of this I keep some ingredients in the back since I don’t ever expect them to bring their own. They tell me that I gotta launder money through here, and I’ll get a small percentage for helping the money flow through, which is also great.

“Wait,” Glen was finally finished with his burger, every scrap, which he had been so determined to finish, and could finally speak, “So this place is a mob front.” The owner nodded, happily. “And you’re just sayin’ this out loud? That’s cool to do?”

“Well,” the owner scratched his beard, “You’re the only one in here, and you work at that shady office, so you probably deal with this stuff often. Plus, if you told, you would have to find somewhere else to eat lunch at.”

Glen nodded, these were very good points, but something bugged him. “Why do you keep talking about my work like that, what’s your problem with it?”

The owner narrowed his eyes and gave a skeptical look, but when Glen proved to be genuinely curious and ignorant, he finally answered. “Well, from what I heard, that building is just a front, a black site for shady government research that goes on.”

Glen laughed and shook his head, “No its just a normal business, we.. Uh…” What did they do there? He started to get sweatier than the stumpy man who was bugging him earlier. What the hell did they do there? Without saying a word, he put a twenty on the counter (the meal only cost $10) and hurried out of the restaurant, marching towards his work. Waiting at a crosswalk, cold wind blowing in his face, he checked the time on his phone. Only five minutes left in his break. Looking at the buildings around him, he noticed none of the buildings stood out, they all seemed to blend together, and wondered how many of them were potential fronts.

When he walked back into the office everything seemed calmer than he had left it, and there were no signs of the people who were harassing him before. Maybe the problem, whatever it was, had blown away. The path to his cubicle was clear, but before he walked down he noticed his boss watching him from the glass wall of her office. She beckoned him in, he lowered his head and walked over. What did she want? Was this about the situation from earlier? Was she just hungry? Opening the door to her office, he noticed that she was starting to pull the cord that moved the thick, black curtains to block the view of the glass wall. He sat in the low, black vinyl chair across from her desk, she sat in hers.

A full minute passed before either of them said anything, the whole time she stared at him while he looked at his hands in his lap. Finally, she broke the silence, “Why do you look so guilty?”

Cautiously, he said, “I thought I might be in trouble for the situation earlier today.”

“With the spreadsheet?”

“Yeah, that one.”

She leaned back in her chair and studied his face. Her chair was tall, black leather, meant to appear more powerful than the guest chair, which only made her seem more intimidating than she naturally was. “You know I like that you cook for me, but that wont keep you safe.” He had to put in a lot of effort to keep his eyes locked onto hers, they seemed cold and dead. “You know how many people died because of your little slip up?”

“Wait, died?” He became too startled to begin to hide his worry. “How did that happen? Aren’t we just an accounting firm?”

#Well Meaning Shut In #Free Write #Short Story #Writers on Tumblr #February #Lazy Story #Lazy Ending

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