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Thursday, June 28, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
07_Plans (Rev01)
MEANWHILE...
I watch as my careful plans fall away like dying leaves during the fall back home on T’sor.
I stare out into the dark and grind my teeth. Fire erupts from the burning ship behind me and I duck as our position illuminated.
The barren, grey rockscape before me crawls with THEM.
I watch with horror as Tac One is wiped out completely. THEY eat at the flesh and bone like a pack of ravenous wolves. Their scales glisten in the fire and moonlight as the horde’s slathering mouths seek out more to eat. THEY looked huge in the vids we reviewed before dropping, but THEY look bigger when you see Them from the ground they stand on.
I press myself back against the cracked and blackened bulkhead and drop slowly down to the ground and signal for the other two teams around me to do the same. Something has gone terribly wrong and I’m not sure what to do about it anymore. I try to stay icy and calm, but a thin line of fear runs through my body and it feels like tiny snakes are crawling over my skin under the Drop Armoplate I wear.
I sign to my Transmissions Op and he crawls toward me while his hand fumbles in the trans codes and boosts my gear signal. Smoke from the burning hulk that brought us here to A’md stings my eyes and the fires that rage around the ship make us far too easy to see in the haze.
I growl words into my gear and scan the area making sure THEY are still feasting on Tac One and not making their way towards us. “This is Lempor Algen Mas – do you read? Lempor Algen Mas to Coral Coras –acknowledge. Priority message. Out.” I think I mutter the phrase twice before they finally answer up in the Heavens.
“This is Lempor Tasit Kin – I read you Lempor Mas. We were trying to reach you earlier, but A’md’s damned moon is scratching out signals to Slan and back. Out.”
I grow angry at the calm in his voice. Safe and secure up there while we and our crashed ship get fed into the meat shredder down here.
Panic shoots through Tac Two like a wave of fire as THEY start scanning the hills in their direction. Tac Two looks to their weapons, then back to their fallen crew mates as if reason and the uselessness of the tools at hand are starting to clash in their brains. The armament is obviously not enough to fight off these numbers. Not without the promised and planned Second and Third Waves from the Coral Coras that we planned on – as yet unseen. We had this planned out. It was set.
I whisper, “I need the position of Waves Two and Three. We’re pinned down and THEY are closing. We have maybe five passes before THEY are on us. Out.” I look up into the star filled sky and search out the blue glow of the Wave’s thrusters, but all I see is a mass of stars.
“We’ve had to change plans, Lempor Mas.” I stare up at the stars as his words rattle around in my head. My mouth goes dry and disbelief creeps in around the edges of my spirit.
Tac Two – closer to THEM by a good 500 clicks – break and stand as the first group of THEM stand and start up the hill towards their position. Half the Tac stands their ground as trained and take aim with their weapons. They are expert shots and don’t waste ammunition by firing wild. They shoot at THEM with focused intent. I watch as the second half of Tac Two breaks into a run – fleeing. I don’t blame them.
THEY move like a flock of birds. All at once without a sound other than their gnashing maws and claw tipped mass of limbs, scales and fur. Their eyes catch the light from the fires burning on our ship and shine silver in the dead landscape of A’md. A place we don’t belong. THEY fall and die as bits and chunks fly from their heads, chests and bodies, but there are more that move forward en mass. They step over their brethren and move on toward Tac Two’s shooters. Towards the enemy. Towards the food.
No use hiding now. THEY have seen us.
Gunfire cracks and echos off the cliffs behind us. Some of the men turn and look to see if it’s our support team on high and are crestfallen when they see that no one is there. I feel sad for them.
“CHANGE PLANS?! WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!” I raise my weapon and cut down an advancing creature before it descends upon a member of my team firing in the other direction. IT’s head explodes into a fine spray, but the momentary victory is cut short when three more rip through the man I just saved with their claws and…beaks. I fire into the group blindly as I scream, “WE NEED THOSE BACK UP SHIPS NOW!”
“We weren’t sure if that plan you and K’lys Ba Rak came up with was going to get us the results we needed. We’ve moved the Second and Third Wave Teams back into position at A’md Sett. Return to Coral Coras at once and regroup with them there. Out.”
Blind rage raced through me and I pressed forward through the haze of plasma and projectile dust and backed into what was left of our ship. I tried to find someone – anyone – who was left, but the surrounding area was all bodies and THEM feasting. For the time, THEY were busy filling their bellies.
I reload and check to see how many cart packs I have left as I hiss a stream of curses into my head gear.
“We have no ship! We crashed on entry! We’re overrun! You’ve killed us, Kin!” I move back into the ship until the fire heats my neck armor starts burning the back of my neck. I glance to my right and see the door to the hanger, but it’s smashed in at the top and I doubt it will move and inch. I’m proven wrong as I slide my blade into the frame and pull hard sliding it not one, but two inches before it grinds to a stop.
Lempor Kin’s voice crackles in my ear – the signal barely reaching me now that my Trans Op lays in a heap being torn at by THEM. “Repeat that? No ship?”
I rip the gear free of my helmet and pull two of the bangers off my vest unit. I start to think again as I give up on the idea of help arriving. I hiss, “Change of plans,” and search my area for somewhere to escape to. Somewhere to hide.
The ship rocks with another explosion as the last of the engines plasma fuel maxes out and shoots from the weak point of the pod. The plume of pink and blue energy lights the ground around me and I’m able to see just how bad this situation is.
THEY are scattered all around me – devouring.
I’m stuck on this rock. My plans hop-grenthed over and brushed away like unwanted dust.
THEY chew and rip away at my men and the only thing I can think about is how I can get THEM up to Coral Coras and into the bridge to feast on the real monsters. The real enemy.
THEY chew, then look my way. THEY stare with their silvery eyes and move towards me like a flock of wild, angry and ravenous birds.
I watch as my careful plans fall away like dying leaves during the fall back home on T’sor.
I stare out into the dark and grind my teeth. Fire erupts from the burning ship behind me and I duck as our position illuminated.
The barren, grey rockscape before me crawls with THEM.
I watch with horror as Tac One is wiped out completely. THEY eat at the flesh and bone like a pack of ravenous wolves. Their scales glisten in the fire and moonlight as the horde’s slathering mouths seek out more to eat. THEY looked huge in the vids we reviewed before dropping, but THEY look bigger when you see Them from the ground they stand on.
I press myself back against the cracked and blackened bulkhead and drop slowly down to the ground and signal for the other two teams around me to do the same. Something has gone terribly wrong and I’m not sure what to do about it anymore. I try to stay icy and calm, but a thin line of fear runs through my body and it feels like tiny snakes are crawling over my skin under the Drop Armoplate I wear.
I sign to my Transmissions Op and he crawls toward me while his hand fumbles in the trans codes and boosts my gear signal. Smoke from the burning hulk that brought us here to A’md stings my eyes and the fires that rage around the ship make us far too easy to see in the haze.
I growl words into my gear and scan the area making sure THEY are still feasting on Tac One and not making their way towards us. “This is Lempor Algen Mas – do you read? Lempor Algen Mas to Coral Coras –acknowledge. Priority message. Out.” I think I mutter the phrase twice before they finally answer up in the Heavens.
“This is Lempor Tasit Kin – I read you Lempor Mas. We were trying to reach you earlier, but A’md’s damned moon is scratching out signals to Slan and back. Out.”
I grow angry at the calm in his voice. Safe and secure up there while we and our crashed ship get fed into the meat shredder down here.
Panic shoots through Tac Two like a wave of fire as THEY start scanning the hills in their direction. Tac Two looks to their weapons, then back to their fallen crew mates as if reason and the uselessness of the tools at hand are starting to clash in their brains. The armament is obviously not enough to fight off these numbers. Not without the promised and planned Second and Third Waves from the Coral Coras that we planned on – as yet unseen. We had this planned out. It was set.
I whisper, “I need the position of Waves Two and Three. We’re pinned down and THEY are closing. We have maybe five passes before THEY are on us. Out.” I look up into the star filled sky and search out the blue glow of the Wave’s thrusters, but all I see is a mass of stars.
“We’ve had to change plans, Lempor Mas.” I stare up at the stars as his words rattle around in my head. My mouth goes dry and disbelief creeps in around the edges of my spirit.
Tac Two – closer to THEM by a good 500 clicks – break and stand as the first group of THEM stand and start up the hill towards their position. Half the Tac stands their ground as trained and take aim with their weapons. They are expert shots and don’t waste ammunition by firing wild. They shoot at THEM with focused intent. I watch as the second half of Tac Two breaks into a run – fleeing. I don’t blame them.
THEY move like a flock of birds. All at once without a sound other than their gnashing maws and claw tipped mass of limbs, scales and fur. Their eyes catch the light from the fires burning on our ship and shine silver in the dead landscape of A’md. A place we don’t belong. THEY fall and die as bits and chunks fly from their heads, chests and bodies, but there are more that move forward en mass. They step over their brethren and move on toward Tac Two’s shooters. Towards the enemy. Towards the food.
No use hiding now. THEY have seen us.
Gunfire cracks and echos off the cliffs behind us. Some of the men turn and look to see if it’s our support team on high and are crestfallen when they see that no one is there. I feel sad for them.
“CHANGE PLANS?! WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!” I raise my weapon and cut down an advancing creature before it descends upon a member of my team firing in the other direction. IT’s head explodes into a fine spray, but the momentary victory is cut short when three more rip through the man I just saved with their claws and…beaks. I fire into the group blindly as I scream, “WE NEED THOSE BACK UP SHIPS NOW!”
“We weren’t sure if that plan you and K’lys Ba Rak came up with was going to get us the results we needed. We’ve moved the Second and Third Wave Teams back into position at A’md Sett. Return to Coral Coras at once and regroup with them there. Out.”
Blind rage raced through me and I pressed forward through the haze of plasma and projectile dust and backed into what was left of our ship. I tried to find someone – anyone – who was left, but the surrounding area was all bodies and THEM feasting. For the time, THEY were busy filling their bellies.
I reload and check to see how many cart packs I have left as I hiss a stream of curses into my head gear.
“We have no ship! We crashed on entry! We’re overrun! You’ve killed us, Kin!” I move back into the ship until the fire heats my neck armor starts burning the back of my neck. I glance to my right and see the door to the hanger, but it’s smashed in at the top and I doubt it will move and inch. I’m proven wrong as I slide my blade into the frame and pull hard sliding it not one, but two inches before it grinds to a stop.
Lempor Kin’s voice crackles in my ear – the signal barely reaching me now that my Trans Op lays in a heap being torn at by THEM. “Repeat that? No ship?”
I rip the gear free of my helmet and pull two of the bangers off my vest unit. I start to think again as I give up on the idea of help arriving. I hiss, “Change of plans,” and search my area for somewhere to escape to. Somewhere to hide.
The ship rocks with another explosion as the last of the engines plasma fuel maxes out and shoots from the weak point of the pod. The plume of pink and blue energy lights the ground around me and I’m able to see just how bad this situation is.
THEY are scattered all around me – devouring.
I’m stuck on this rock. My plans hop-grenthed over and brushed away like unwanted dust.
THEY chew and rip away at my men and the only thing I can think about is how I can get THEM up to Coral Coras and into the bridge to feast on the real monsters. The real enemy.
THEY chew, then look my way. THEY stare with their silvery eyes and move towards me like a flock of wild, angry and ravenous birds.
06_Karma
Meanwhile...
The office buzzed with activity. Post lunch and post, post lunch coma was a magic hour for work. Some used that time to complete tasks started in the morning and get things done before leaving for the day while others spent their time trying to look busy for the next three hours until it was time to escape.
Frank Tate was a master of Looking Busy. He stared at computer screens, moved from one end of the office to the other with seeming intent, but his true stroke of genius was the Paper Walk. This involved moving from space to space with papers in hand and acting as if you were either on your way to deliver them or back from an important meeting with a new set of marching orders.
Frank clicked at his pen and shuffled through his latest stack of paper ploy, but stopped when he rounded the lobby desk.
Frank was transfixed and caught like a deer in headlights by what he saw before him. His jaw slowly dropped as he slowed to a snails pace and brought the stack of papers up as if reading them to mask his obvious staring. . He felt his heart skip and, for a moment, thought that this was the heart attack his doctor had warned him about for months. He looked around, then stopped by an empty cube and pretended to read.
Sonnie Fong swayed by the copier and sang something – he couldn’t quiet make it out. He moved closer, still holding the copies he had made and marking them with a pen as if editing, but he was just killing time. The hip movements hypnotized him. The song drew him in. She was a siren. He was sure of it now. This wasn’t appropriate behavior for the office –this lurid leering of his – but neither was a samba by the copier wearing something like Sonnie was wearing.
Her black skirt clung to her demure hips as she swayed. Her light blouse was sheer enough to make out the white bra she wore under it. He bit his bottom lip, sighed a blissfull sigh and moved closer to the swaying figure before him.
Sonnie moved her hips and softly cooed out, “When I saw you first the time was half past three…When your eyes met mine it was eternity…By now we know the wave is on its way to be…Just catch that wave don't be afraid of loving me…The fundamental loneliness goes whenever two can dream a dream together….” She held the printer like it was a dance partner and moved along with her little song.
“Enjoying the show, Frank?” The disembodied voice ran over Frank's spine like someone dripped ice cold water down his back.
Frank screamed. He actually screamed. It was a child's scream - something from the back of Frank's throat. His round body squatted slightly as if the flight mechanism was about to kick in and send him running out of the office for safety.
This was followed by the sound of Sonnie screaming. She spun around to face the embarrassed, red faced Frank Tate and his boss, Ron Marks. “WHAT was that about? You nearly gave me a friggin heart attack!" Sonnie's eyes narrowed and anger became very apparent. Her head lowered slightly like a bulls right before it charges - Frank's red face a sad, red cape substitute. Her impulse was obviously fight.
“Frank was just catching the wave, weren’t you, Frank?” Ron Marks placed a hand on Frank’s shoulder and squeezed. Ron's spash of Cool Cat Cologne caught in Frank's nose and burned. Ron’s smug face beamed. He thought himself charming, funny, and smarter than pretty much everyone else in this office of his. He was “The Man”.
“That song," Frank stammered. "I was going to ask you what it was,” Frank tried to keep eye contact, but broke after a moment and looked down at his crumpled fistful of papers.
Sonnie stared blankly. “The Wave,” she growled. Her eyes were cold and cruel. "Do you have my report yet, Frank?"
Frank smiled a wide, stupid smile. "I was just going to tell you - I have them right here." He raised the mess of papers in his hand.
"Thanks." Sonnie stared dismissively. "Maybe reprint it first. A copy that's not wrinkled and covered with your flop sweat would be nice.”
Frank waved the papers again, glanced at Ron, then moved off quickly leaving Ron giggling.
"Coffee?" Ron said as he smiled at Sonnie and adjusted his tie. His phone purred and he instantly forgot about talking to Sonnie, leaving her talking to herself as he snatched the phone from his pocket and pressed it to his ear. “Ron Marks,” he said in his official tone.
Sonnie – used to this after years of this sort of treatment - turned and faced the copier again. She jumped when Ron’s shrill, high-pitched yelp slammed into the back of her head like breaking glass.
“WHAT?! JESUS! When did this HAPPEN?!” Ron paced and ran his free hand over his head, yanking at the hair in back when hand completed the mad scalp scramble. “Vandalism? No shit vandalism!”
A few heads popped up out of cubes like Muscats on a prairie sensing danger. They saw it was Ron and popped back down into their cubes before his blind rage had them working more long hours.
“Ron?” Sonnie moved to Ron and folded her arms. “What happened?” She feigned interest.
Ron ignored her. “Ok…yes…I’ll be right there.” He ripped the phone away from his head and came close to throwing it across the office. Veins popped in his forehead. Sonnie thought he may even be crying.
“What HAPPENED, Ron?” Sonnie frowned. She’d give his a little slack, but her patience was wearing thin.
“Some FU-.” He stopped short, drew in a breath, and started again using a more office friendly tone. “Someone broke into my HOME and SMASHED EVERYTHING!” He kicked at the air. “Smashed things all over. Baseball bat. Killed all my fish! Set my BED ON FIRE!” Ron’s face flared. It looked like his eyes were going to burst from his head. Sonnie wished they would.
“That’s horrible. Is Kate ok?” Sonnie tried not to smile. She coughed and shook it off.
“She’s fine. She wasn’t there or something. DAMN IT.” It was obvious that Ron had not even thought about his girlfriend, Kate, or her well-being in the situation.
“Why would someone want to do that to you, Ron?” Sonnie cocked her head to the side and sighed furrowing her brow. “So wrong. Sorry to hear it. Crazy world.” She tried to keep from laughing and wondered if she was convincing.
Ron stormed off. “I’m out for the rest of the day,” he blurted out over his shoulder.
“I’ll let everyone know,” Sonnie said softly as she watched Ron storm off around the corner. “You dumbass.” She giggled to herself and basked in the visual of some wondrous soul bashing the hell out of Ron’s possessions. His beloved fish and that ridiculous tank whose base cost could have fed five families for a month. His gaudy bedroom where – she shivered – Kate would give herself over to that self centered scumbag.
A vicious smile crossed Sonnie Fong’s face as she snatched her copies from the machine and made her way back to her office. She felt bad for a moment and thought of what it would be like if someone did that to her home. The momentary feeling of guilt passed. “He had to have done something to get someone to that state. Guess there is Karma.” She grinned to herself and moved down the carpeted hallway on soundless high heels.
Frank walked up at the same time Sonnie reached her office door. He held a small, neat stack of papers in front of his chest and managed to smile without vomiting. “Got that report redone for you.”
Sonnie stopped in front of him and stared for a moment before taking the proffered papers. Karma, she thought.
“Thanks, Frank.” Sonnie smiled in earnest.
Frank couldn’t speak without croaking – he knew it. He released the papers and nodded with a smile turning quickly and moving off down the hall to avoid doing something else that would enrage this…Goddess. Maybe later he’d kill a goat in her name. Light a fire and dance around it or something.
“Frank?”
Frank stopped. He knew he should have walked faster. He turned and faced Sonnie. “Yeah?”
“I have a few MP3’s of that Wave song I was singing on my laptop. Want me to email them to you?” Sonnie flipped through the report absently. “There are a ton, but I have a few of the better….you know…versions.” She looked up and her eyes were soft. She didn’t want to lead him on, but also didn’t need Karma rearing it’s ugly head and smashing up her home.
“Um…sure?” Frank smiled. “That would be nice. Yes, please.” He stopped himself from gushing.
“I’ll send ‘em.” She waved the report. “Thanks for this.” She slipped into her office.
Frank smiled. “Cool.” He smoothed the front of his shirt, glanced around to see if anyone was around to witness this monumental event, then moved off back to his side of the office feeling a bit better about himself.
The office buzzed with activity. Post lunch and post, post lunch coma was a magic hour for work. Some used that time to complete tasks started in the morning and get things done before leaving for the day while others spent their time trying to look busy for the next three hours until it was time to escape.
Frank Tate was a master of Looking Busy. He stared at computer screens, moved from one end of the office to the other with seeming intent, but his true stroke of genius was the Paper Walk. This involved moving from space to space with papers in hand and acting as if you were either on your way to deliver them or back from an important meeting with a new set of marching orders.
Frank clicked at his pen and shuffled through his latest stack of paper ploy, but stopped when he rounded the lobby desk.
Frank was transfixed and caught like a deer in headlights by what he saw before him. His jaw slowly dropped as he slowed to a snails pace and brought the stack of papers up as if reading them to mask his obvious staring. . He felt his heart skip and, for a moment, thought that this was the heart attack his doctor had warned him about for months. He looked around, then stopped by an empty cube and pretended to read.
Sonnie Fong swayed by the copier and sang something – he couldn’t quiet make it out. He moved closer, still holding the copies he had made and marking them with a pen as if editing, but he was just killing time. The hip movements hypnotized him. The song drew him in. She was a siren. He was sure of it now. This wasn’t appropriate behavior for the office –this lurid leering of his – but neither was a samba by the copier wearing something like Sonnie was wearing.
Her black skirt clung to her demure hips as she swayed. Her light blouse was sheer enough to make out the white bra she wore under it. He bit his bottom lip, sighed a blissfull sigh and moved closer to the swaying figure before him.
Sonnie moved her hips and softly cooed out, “When I saw you first the time was half past three…When your eyes met mine it was eternity…By now we know the wave is on its way to be…Just catch that wave don't be afraid of loving me…The fundamental loneliness goes whenever two can dream a dream together….” She held the printer like it was a dance partner and moved along with her little song.
“Enjoying the show, Frank?” The disembodied voice ran over Frank's spine like someone dripped ice cold water down his back.
Frank screamed. He actually screamed. It was a child's scream - something from the back of Frank's throat. His round body squatted slightly as if the flight mechanism was about to kick in and send him running out of the office for safety.
This was followed by the sound of Sonnie screaming. She spun around to face the embarrassed, red faced Frank Tate and his boss, Ron Marks. “WHAT was that about? You nearly gave me a friggin heart attack!" Sonnie's eyes narrowed and anger became very apparent. Her head lowered slightly like a bulls right before it charges - Frank's red face a sad, red cape substitute. Her impulse was obviously fight.
“Frank was just catching the wave, weren’t you, Frank?” Ron Marks placed a hand on Frank’s shoulder and squeezed. Ron's spash of Cool Cat Cologne caught in Frank's nose and burned. Ron’s smug face beamed. He thought himself charming, funny, and smarter than pretty much everyone else in this office of his. He was “The Man”.
“That song," Frank stammered. "I was going to ask you what it was,” Frank tried to keep eye contact, but broke after a moment and looked down at his crumpled fistful of papers.
Sonnie stared blankly. “The Wave,” she growled. Her eyes were cold and cruel. "Do you have my report yet, Frank?"
Frank smiled a wide, stupid smile. "I was just going to tell you - I have them right here." He raised the mess of papers in his hand.
"Thanks." Sonnie stared dismissively. "Maybe reprint it first. A copy that's not wrinkled and covered with your flop sweat would be nice.”
Frank waved the papers again, glanced at Ron, then moved off quickly leaving Ron giggling.
"Coffee?" Ron said as he smiled at Sonnie and adjusted his tie. His phone purred and he instantly forgot about talking to Sonnie, leaving her talking to herself as he snatched the phone from his pocket and pressed it to his ear. “Ron Marks,” he said in his official tone.
Sonnie – used to this after years of this sort of treatment - turned and faced the copier again. She jumped when Ron’s shrill, high-pitched yelp slammed into the back of her head like breaking glass.
“WHAT?! JESUS! When did this HAPPEN?!” Ron paced and ran his free hand over his head, yanking at the hair in back when hand completed the mad scalp scramble. “Vandalism? No shit vandalism!”
A few heads popped up out of cubes like Muscats on a prairie sensing danger. They saw it was Ron and popped back down into their cubes before his blind rage had them working more long hours.
“Ron?” Sonnie moved to Ron and folded her arms. “What happened?” She feigned interest.
Ron ignored her. “Ok…yes…I’ll be right there.” He ripped the phone away from his head and came close to throwing it across the office. Veins popped in his forehead. Sonnie thought he may even be crying.
“What HAPPENED, Ron?” Sonnie frowned. She’d give his a little slack, but her patience was wearing thin.
“Some FU-.” He stopped short, drew in a breath, and started again using a more office friendly tone. “Someone broke into my HOME and SMASHED EVERYTHING!” He kicked at the air. “Smashed things all over. Baseball bat. Killed all my fish! Set my BED ON FIRE!” Ron’s face flared. It looked like his eyes were going to burst from his head. Sonnie wished they would.
“That’s horrible. Is Kate ok?” Sonnie tried not to smile. She coughed and shook it off.
“She’s fine. She wasn’t there or something. DAMN IT.” It was obvious that Ron had not even thought about his girlfriend, Kate, or her well-being in the situation.
“Why would someone want to do that to you, Ron?” Sonnie cocked her head to the side and sighed furrowing her brow. “So wrong. Sorry to hear it. Crazy world.” She tried to keep from laughing and wondered if she was convincing.
Ron stormed off. “I’m out for the rest of the day,” he blurted out over his shoulder.
“I’ll let everyone know,” Sonnie said softly as she watched Ron storm off around the corner. “You dumbass.” She giggled to herself and basked in the visual of some wondrous soul bashing the hell out of Ron’s possessions. His beloved fish and that ridiculous tank whose base cost could have fed five families for a month. His gaudy bedroom where – she shivered – Kate would give herself over to that self centered scumbag.
A vicious smile crossed Sonnie Fong’s face as she snatched her copies from the machine and made her way back to her office. She felt bad for a moment and thought of what it would be like if someone did that to her home. The momentary feeling of guilt passed. “He had to have done something to get someone to that state. Guess there is Karma.” She grinned to herself and moved down the carpeted hallway on soundless high heels.
Frank walked up at the same time Sonnie reached her office door. He held a small, neat stack of papers in front of his chest and managed to smile without vomiting. “Got that report redone for you.”
Sonnie stopped in front of him and stared for a moment before taking the proffered papers. Karma, she thought.
“Thanks, Frank.” Sonnie smiled in earnest.
Frank couldn’t speak without croaking – he knew it. He released the papers and nodded with a smile turning quickly and moving off down the hall to avoid doing something else that would enrage this…Goddess. Maybe later he’d kill a goat in her name. Light a fire and dance around it or something.
“Frank?”
Frank stopped. He knew he should have walked faster. He turned and faced Sonnie. “Yeah?”
“I have a few MP3’s of that Wave song I was singing on my laptop. Want me to email them to you?” Sonnie flipped through the report absently. “There are a ton, but I have a few of the better….you know…versions.” She looked up and her eyes were soft. She didn’t want to lead him on, but also didn’t need Karma rearing it’s ugly head and smashing up her home.
“Um…sure?” Frank smiled. “That would be nice. Yes, please.” He stopped himself from gushing.
“I’ll send ‘em.” She waved the report. “Thanks for this.” She slipped into her office.
Frank smiled. “Cool.” He smoothed the front of his shirt, glanced around to see if anyone was around to witness this monumental event, then moved off back to his side of the office feeling a bit better about himself.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Quiche Lorain
MEANWHILE…
Pink light flooded in from the streets of San Francisco below and the smell of toast and oranges filled the air. Traffic zipped along outside and somewhere in the building someone vacuumed. The twenty by twenty space was warmed by a small space heater wall unit, but it wasn’t cold enough to leave it on right now. The city’s summer was here, for what it was worth and it wasn’t as cold as it had been back in January.
The woman ran her fingers through her hair shaking it loose and free. It had been up all day and it felt good to release it to roam wild – free from the pins and ridiculous little pink hat she was forced to wear.
She reached into a bag on the bed and removed the purchase she managed to sneak away after the days lunch rush to buy. She smiled wide as she laid it out on the bed, smoothed it out and picked up the scissors she had placed next to the bag.
She carefully removed the tags from and cocked her head to the side as she noticed again just how beautiful it was. She loved it and was glad that she had chosen to add this to her collection. It was exactly what she wanted. The color was perfect. The blue shimmered in the half-light of the small, studio apartment and brought a small smile to her face.
She ran her hand over the fabric and sighed. So soft and fine. She lifted the dress and turned to face the mirror. She had to have it on again. The dishes from dinner could wait. She slipped her uniform off and tossed it aside. It landed on a chair by the window and the name tag clacked against the pane. It read Quiche Lorraine – an homage to the B-52’s song that still confused her sixty year old boss at the diner.
Her curvy frame and pale skin caught her eye in the mirror on the back of the front door. She took a moment to stare blankly at her reflection, then snatched the dress up carefully and stepped into it. She treated the dress as if it were made from the webs of spiders and as if it could tear at the slightest wrong tug.
Once on, she ran her hand down the side and zipped it with equal parts of care and excitement. She drew in a breath and turned back towards the mirror.
There she was. Pale skin set off by the sky blue of the dress. Her sandy blonde hair fell down around her shoulders. Every big, beautiful curve accentuated wondrously by the cut and cling of the dress. She beamed – so very happy.
The studio was silent and cool. Outside, fog drifted along like ghosts. It found it’s way into her little home through small cracks and spaces in the warped window frame.
She glanced at the clock. She had to wake up and be back at the diner in eight hours. She supposed she could make it out to some bar or club to show off her dress if she pushed herself. Slink around like a modern day Veronica Lake? But, the idea made her shiver. She told herself it was far too cold and too late for such folly.
Her hands slid over her tummy and around on her hips. Her reflection smiled to her and the hum of the mini-fridge a few feet away made her sleepy.
This was a fine purchase. One day, she’d go somewhere and show it off. This and some of the other purchases she’d made in the past two years since she’d been here in this amazing city. The Gucci handbag she got for a steal downtown at Christmas. The shoes. The low cut jeans and baby t-shirt she got when she was feeling particularly naughty last summer in the Haight.
One day.
She swung her head around and looked at the clock in the kitchenette. Yes, it was indeed far too late to go anywhere. By the time she got there, she’d have to come right back home.
She slid out of her slippers and set the alarm on her cell phone and placed it on the table by the small, single bed. She straightened up and smiled at herself as she slunk towards the mirror. She paused in front of it and rested a hand on her hip. “Oh Baby…” she growled as she reached up and slid the bolt on the door. She giggled and turned after winking at herself and made her way to the bed again.
She sat on the bed’s edge, smoothed the dress out on her hips, then cranked her legs up and under the covers. When she had her next day off, she’d wear this dress...somewhere. She bet the bag would look great with it.
She smiled, pulled the covers up and reached over and flicked off the light.
She loved her new dress.
Pink light flooded in from the streets of San Francisco below and the smell of toast and oranges filled the air. Traffic zipped along outside and somewhere in the building someone vacuumed. The twenty by twenty space was warmed by a small space heater wall unit, but it wasn’t cold enough to leave it on right now. The city’s summer was here, for what it was worth and it wasn’t as cold as it had been back in January.
The woman ran her fingers through her hair shaking it loose and free. It had been up all day and it felt good to release it to roam wild – free from the pins and ridiculous little pink hat she was forced to wear.
She reached into a bag on the bed and removed the purchase she managed to sneak away after the days lunch rush to buy. She smiled wide as she laid it out on the bed, smoothed it out and picked up the scissors she had placed next to the bag.
She carefully removed the tags from and cocked her head to the side as she noticed again just how beautiful it was. She loved it and was glad that she had chosen to add this to her collection. It was exactly what she wanted. The color was perfect. The blue shimmered in the half-light of the small, studio apartment and brought a small smile to her face.
She ran her hand over the fabric and sighed. So soft and fine. She lifted the dress and turned to face the mirror. She had to have it on again. The dishes from dinner could wait. She slipped her uniform off and tossed it aside. It landed on a chair by the window and the name tag clacked against the pane. It read Quiche Lorraine – an homage to the B-52’s song that still confused her sixty year old boss at the diner.
Her curvy frame and pale skin caught her eye in the mirror on the back of the front door. She took a moment to stare blankly at her reflection, then snatched the dress up carefully and stepped into it. She treated the dress as if it were made from the webs of spiders and as if it could tear at the slightest wrong tug.
Once on, she ran her hand down the side and zipped it with equal parts of care and excitement. She drew in a breath and turned back towards the mirror.
There she was. Pale skin set off by the sky blue of the dress. Her sandy blonde hair fell down around her shoulders. Every big, beautiful curve accentuated wondrously by the cut and cling of the dress. She beamed – so very happy.
The studio was silent and cool. Outside, fog drifted along like ghosts. It found it’s way into her little home through small cracks and spaces in the warped window frame.
She glanced at the clock. She had to wake up and be back at the diner in eight hours. She supposed she could make it out to some bar or club to show off her dress if she pushed herself. Slink around like a modern day Veronica Lake? But, the idea made her shiver. She told herself it was far too cold and too late for such folly.
Her hands slid over her tummy and around on her hips. Her reflection smiled to her and the hum of the mini-fridge a few feet away made her sleepy.
This was a fine purchase. One day, she’d go somewhere and show it off. This and some of the other purchases she’d made in the past two years since she’d been here in this amazing city. The Gucci handbag she got for a steal downtown at Christmas. The shoes. The low cut jeans and baby t-shirt she got when she was feeling particularly naughty last summer in the Haight.
One day.
She swung her head around and looked at the clock in the kitchenette. Yes, it was indeed far too late to go anywhere. By the time she got there, she’d have to come right back home.
She slid out of her slippers and set the alarm on her cell phone and placed it on the table by the small, single bed. She straightened up and smiled at herself as she slunk towards the mirror. She paused in front of it and rested a hand on her hip. “Oh Baby…” she growled as she reached up and slid the bolt on the door. She giggled and turned after winking at herself and made her way to the bed again.
She sat on the bed’s edge, smoothed the dress out on her hips, then cranked her legs up and under the covers. When she had her next day off, she’d wear this dress...somewhere. She bet the bag would look great with it.
She smiled, pulled the covers up and reached over and flicked off the light.
She loved her new dress.
Sweet and Sour
MEANWHILE…
The restaurant hummed with conversation and was bathed in warmth and delicious smells from the kitchen. Waiters and waitresses fluttered around to tables and then back to the kitchen like bees heading to flowers then back to the hive. Small Chinese symbols of good fortune and happiness hung on the walls and sat on the tables. Groups laughed, discussed, and fought in both English and Chinese.
Ted and Cindy verbally jousted at their table – furious and sending cutting remarks flying with reckless abandon. Cindy’s eyes flared viciously as Ted smiled a cruel smile and took a victory gulp of beer still thinking about the most excellent point he just made.
“That was low. Really low, Ted.” Cindy’s lip curled into a sneer. “You knew we were old friends and that’s all.”
Ted replaced his glass then shifted forward in his chair. “You’re saying you didn’t play grab ass with him?” He arched a brow.
Cindy let her brow relax and leaned back in her chair. A smile played on her lips as her eyes locked on Ted’s. She licked her lips, and then whispered, “I was confused at the time, Ted. I’m not used to being with a man that I’m sexually attracted to, you know?” Her eyes narrowed. “I went with the feeling. And, I have to say, I’m glad I did. It was the first time in months that I’ve felt alive.”
Ted hissed, “Well played, Cindy,” and leaned back in his chair. His hand rested on his glass.
A busboy approached and slid two glasses of water in front of Ted And Cindy and smiled and awkward smile.
Ted continued to stare at Cindy and barked out, “I’ll have the orange beef and we’ll take the spring rolls.” Ted reached for his water and took a sip.
The busboy stared blankly, not understanding a word. It was his first day and all he was supposed to do is handle water and dishes.
Cindy kept her eyes locked on Ted. She was seething, but choked out, “Shrimp and oyster sauce. With Rice. Please.”
The busboy continued to stare, then he wandered off through the mini-maze of tables and back into the kitchen without understanding a word the couple had said to him. They were so mean looking.
Ted and Cindy remained locked in a silent struggle of hate for a moment, then something shook Cindy at the core.
This same thing had happened with Robert – an ex from the year before. This anger. This hate that came from somewhere deep inside of her. It was the same anger that she saw between her parents. The idea that she was turning into the same, angry person that her mother was scared her to death.
Cindy blinked, then looked down at the table. This wasn’t what she wanted. Wasn’t what they used to have. She wasn’t sure when it changed, but it was vastly different than when they first started seeing each other months ago and it was seemingly out of her control. This needed to be defused like a bomb. They were such good friends, but to listen to the conversation you would think the exact opposite. Something needed to be done. Something to defuse the situation. Reset.
Cindy looked up – her eyes wide and filled with horror. “OH GOD!” She clutched her throat and tossed herself out of her chair. She hit the tile floor harder than she planned. Pain shot through her arm, but she kept the play acting up, clawing at her throat and gasping.
“Cindy?!” Ted was up like a shot and down on one knee by her side. “What’s wrong? What happened?” He pawed at her throat and tried to see what the obstruction was, if any.
Cindy drew in deep breaths and tried to pace herself. She wondered what she had. What sort of illness was she playing at? She’d have to improvise. “Throat,” she gasped. “Water.”
Customers hovered around and belched out words of wisdom.
“Keep her head up!”
“Bend her over a chair!”
“Smack her back!”
Ted looked horrified. He reached for the first glass on the table and knocked it over in his panic. He focused and managed to grip the other glass of water and bring it to Cindy’s lips. She gulped at the liquid as small groups of diners filled in around her to see if they could assist.
Cindy allowed herself to calm down, showing that the magical illness was gone. She nodded and let Ted help her to her feet and into the chair again.
Ted stroked her forehead and cooed over her softly. “Are you ok, Baby?”
Cindy looked into his eyes and saw it. Something was back in his eyes. She whispered, “I think I’m ok, Ted.” She gripped his arm and frowned slightly. “Can we…get out of here? Go for a long walk and talk? Please?”
Ted saw something in her eyes now. Something he had not seen in a long while. Suddenly, things seemed more in focus. More important. Less petty. He smiled and brushed hair from her face. “Sure, Baby.”
Cindy’s arm throbbed. She could barely move the limb without pain shooting through it. Her eyes watered and she wasn’t sure if it was due to the pain in her arm or the warm feeling she had back for Ted and his care for her.
Ted dropped a twenty-dollar bill onto the table, waved off the service staff that asked about Cindy with a smile, then the two of them walked out arm in arm.
After an hour of serious talking, the two of them seemed back on track and on the same side again. They both agreed that they needed to be more attentive to their relationship. Treat it with a little more care and respect.
They talked some more as they drove to the emergency room and had Cindy’s broken arm set and slipped into a cast.
Ted stopped and got a movie on the way home for them to watch, then ordered Chinese food for the two of them after getting Cindy snuggled in on the sofa.
The restaurant hummed with conversation and was bathed in warmth and delicious smells from the kitchen. Waiters and waitresses fluttered around to tables and then back to the kitchen like bees heading to flowers then back to the hive. Small Chinese symbols of good fortune and happiness hung on the walls and sat on the tables. Groups laughed, discussed, and fought in both English and Chinese.
Ted and Cindy verbally jousted at their table – furious and sending cutting remarks flying with reckless abandon. Cindy’s eyes flared viciously as Ted smiled a cruel smile and took a victory gulp of beer still thinking about the most excellent point he just made.
“That was low. Really low, Ted.” Cindy’s lip curled into a sneer. “You knew we were old friends and that’s all.”
Ted replaced his glass then shifted forward in his chair. “You’re saying you didn’t play grab ass with him?” He arched a brow.
Cindy let her brow relax and leaned back in her chair. A smile played on her lips as her eyes locked on Ted’s. She licked her lips, and then whispered, “I was confused at the time, Ted. I’m not used to being with a man that I’m sexually attracted to, you know?” Her eyes narrowed. “I went with the feeling. And, I have to say, I’m glad I did. It was the first time in months that I’ve felt alive.”
Ted hissed, “Well played, Cindy,” and leaned back in his chair. His hand rested on his glass.
A busboy approached and slid two glasses of water in front of Ted And Cindy and smiled and awkward smile.
Ted continued to stare at Cindy and barked out, “I’ll have the orange beef and we’ll take the spring rolls.” Ted reached for his water and took a sip.
The busboy stared blankly, not understanding a word. It was his first day and all he was supposed to do is handle water and dishes.
Cindy kept her eyes locked on Ted. She was seething, but choked out, “Shrimp and oyster sauce. With Rice. Please.”
The busboy continued to stare, then he wandered off through the mini-maze of tables and back into the kitchen without understanding a word the couple had said to him. They were so mean looking.
Ted and Cindy remained locked in a silent struggle of hate for a moment, then something shook Cindy at the core.
This same thing had happened with Robert – an ex from the year before. This anger. This hate that came from somewhere deep inside of her. It was the same anger that she saw between her parents. The idea that she was turning into the same, angry person that her mother was scared her to death.
Cindy blinked, then looked down at the table. This wasn’t what she wanted. Wasn’t what they used to have. She wasn’t sure when it changed, but it was vastly different than when they first started seeing each other months ago and it was seemingly out of her control. This needed to be defused like a bomb. They were such good friends, but to listen to the conversation you would think the exact opposite. Something needed to be done. Something to defuse the situation. Reset.
Cindy looked up – her eyes wide and filled with horror. “OH GOD!” She clutched her throat and tossed herself out of her chair. She hit the tile floor harder than she planned. Pain shot through her arm, but she kept the play acting up, clawing at her throat and gasping.
“Cindy?!” Ted was up like a shot and down on one knee by her side. “What’s wrong? What happened?” He pawed at her throat and tried to see what the obstruction was, if any.
Cindy drew in deep breaths and tried to pace herself. She wondered what she had. What sort of illness was she playing at? She’d have to improvise. “Throat,” she gasped. “Water.”
Customers hovered around and belched out words of wisdom.
“Keep her head up!”
“Bend her over a chair!”
“Smack her back!”
Ted looked horrified. He reached for the first glass on the table and knocked it over in his panic. He focused and managed to grip the other glass of water and bring it to Cindy’s lips. She gulped at the liquid as small groups of diners filled in around her to see if they could assist.
Cindy allowed herself to calm down, showing that the magical illness was gone. She nodded and let Ted help her to her feet and into the chair again.
Ted stroked her forehead and cooed over her softly. “Are you ok, Baby?”
Cindy looked into his eyes and saw it. Something was back in his eyes. She whispered, “I think I’m ok, Ted.” She gripped his arm and frowned slightly. “Can we…get out of here? Go for a long walk and talk? Please?”
Ted saw something in her eyes now. Something he had not seen in a long while. Suddenly, things seemed more in focus. More important. Less petty. He smiled and brushed hair from her face. “Sure, Baby.”
Cindy’s arm throbbed. She could barely move the limb without pain shooting through it. Her eyes watered and she wasn’t sure if it was due to the pain in her arm or the warm feeling she had back for Ted and his care for her.
Ted dropped a twenty-dollar bill onto the table, waved off the service staff that asked about Cindy with a smile, then the two of them walked out arm in arm.
After an hour of serious talking, the two of them seemed back on track and on the same side again. They both agreed that they needed to be more attentive to their relationship. Treat it with a little more care and respect.
They talked some more as they drove to the emergency room and had Cindy’s broken arm set and slipped into a cast.
Ted stopped and got a movie on the way home for them to watch, then ordered Chinese food for the two of them after getting Cindy snuggled in on the sofa.
Monday, June 11, 2007
03_Zombies
Stanley Ankou slid the lever back with a click and watched as the doors to the facility opened before him like the gates of Heaven themselves. “Yeah, Baby.” He looked around with caution. No time for slip ups here. Not now.
A small red light spun slowly on a pole about fifty feet down the hallway. That must be his destination. He took a step inside and took a moment to peer around both doors. He didn’t want those things coming after him. Not when he was this close. The air was damp and musty. He knew they were around somewhere. But, right now he had data to gather and he needed to do it fast.
Another series of steps found him closer to his goal. And, found them closer as well. His eyes narrowed and the shotgun rose slightly. He listened.
The groaning started low and began to rise. Shadows danced down the corridor and up from the stairwells. The smell of rotting flesh filled his nostrils.
“CRAP!” Stanley brought the gun into play – spinning around and taking aim.
The horde came into view groaning and gnashing their rotting teeth. They ambled along the corridor and filled in the space between him and the Lab. No, he wouldn’t be stopped like this.
Stanley ran towards the spinning red light, gun raised and firing. He moved with grace and agility, but there were so many of the dead and so little shotgun shells. He tried to reload, but the undead descended on him like a swarm of bees. His final agonized vision was that of the red, spinning light and the lab mere feet away.
He had failed.
“Did you at least save? I told you, right? You need to get the grenades first, then hit the lab. You toss those suckers down there and blow the crap outta them first, then you just stroll into the Lab and your on to the next deal.” Mike grabbed another handful of popcorn and brought it to his mouth.
“You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full.” Stanley tossed the controller onto the sofa and snatched up his beer. “And I told you that that wasn’t going to work because the toxics would go off and I already used…the mask.” He killed the beer and rose to grab another.
“Oh yeah.” Mike shrugged. “You done?” Another two fistfuls of popcorn disappeared.
“Yeah…for now. Supposed to go meet Angie.” Stanley popped beer open and took several swigs.
“Taking the bus?”
“Yeah,” Stanley sighed and drifted back to the sofa. “There’s a five fifty. I can take that down and connect to the 22 at the bottom of the hill. Should get there in time – no problem.”
“How are things anyway? Good still?” Mike rubbed the corn along the bottom of the dwindling supply of butter and salt at the bottom of the bowl.
“Naw, we broke up.”
Mike blinked hard. “What? Really?”
Stanley nodded.
“Why?” Mike shoved the bowl away.
Stanley slid the beer onto the tabletop and grabbed the controller again. “We were better as friends, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the TV with a blank expression.
“You ok?” Mike rested his elbows on his knees. “You guys are still hanging out, huh? It’s kind of a shock.”
“Yeah.” Stanley loaded the game and focused. “I’m fine.”
Mike nodded slowly, then turned his attention to the TV – his eyes dropping to the time on the VCR. “Gotta go soon. Going out with Sarah.” He leaned back in his chair. “But, I’ll watch you DIE one more time, then walk down to the car with you. I’ll give you a ride over if you want.”
“Cool – thanks. I’ll just bus it. I don’t wanna take you out of your way.”
“It’s Cool – I’m heading down there anyway. Getting her at work.”
“Oh…ok, well…sure. Ok – I’ll take a lift. Thanks, man.”
A zombie’s head exploded sending gore splattering along a wall in the game.
“Grenades, huh?” Mike stood.
“Might not set off the toxics if you head down the hall faster?”
“I’ll try that.” Stanley maneuvered his character down the darkened hallway.
“Cool.”
A small red light spun slowly on a pole about fifty feet down the hallway. That must be his destination. He took a step inside and took a moment to peer around both doors. He didn’t want those things coming after him. Not when he was this close. The air was damp and musty. He knew they were around somewhere. But, right now he had data to gather and he needed to do it fast.
Another series of steps found him closer to his goal. And, found them closer as well. His eyes narrowed and the shotgun rose slightly. He listened.
The groaning started low and began to rise. Shadows danced down the corridor and up from the stairwells. The smell of rotting flesh filled his nostrils.
“CRAP!” Stanley brought the gun into play – spinning around and taking aim.
The horde came into view groaning and gnashing their rotting teeth. They ambled along the corridor and filled in the space between him and the Lab. No, he wouldn’t be stopped like this.
Stanley ran towards the spinning red light, gun raised and firing. He moved with grace and agility, but there were so many of the dead and so little shotgun shells. He tried to reload, but the undead descended on him like a swarm of bees. His final agonized vision was that of the red, spinning light and the lab mere feet away.
He had failed.
“Did you at least save? I told you, right? You need to get the grenades first, then hit the lab. You toss those suckers down there and blow the crap outta them first, then you just stroll into the Lab and your on to the next deal.” Mike grabbed another handful of popcorn and brought it to his mouth.
“You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full.” Stanley tossed the controller onto the sofa and snatched up his beer. “And I told you that that wasn’t going to work because the toxics would go off and I already used…the mask.” He killed the beer and rose to grab another.
“Oh yeah.” Mike shrugged. “You done?” Another two fistfuls of popcorn disappeared.
“Yeah…for now. Supposed to go meet Angie.” Stanley popped beer open and took several swigs.
“Taking the bus?”
“Yeah,” Stanley sighed and drifted back to the sofa. “There’s a five fifty. I can take that down and connect to the 22 at the bottom of the hill. Should get there in time – no problem.”
“How are things anyway? Good still?” Mike rubbed the corn along the bottom of the dwindling supply of butter and salt at the bottom of the bowl.
“Naw, we broke up.”
Mike blinked hard. “What? Really?”
Stanley nodded.
“Why?” Mike shoved the bowl away.
Stanley slid the beer onto the tabletop and grabbed the controller again. “We were better as friends, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the TV with a blank expression.
“You ok?” Mike rested his elbows on his knees. “You guys are still hanging out, huh? It’s kind of a shock.”
“Yeah.” Stanley loaded the game and focused. “I’m fine.”
Mike nodded slowly, then turned his attention to the TV – his eyes dropping to the time on the VCR. “Gotta go soon. Going out with Sarah.” He leaned back in his chair. “But, I’ll watch you DIE one more time, then walk down to the car with you. I’ll give you a ride over if you want.”
“Cool – thanks. I’ll just bus it. I don’t wanna take you out of your way.”
“It’s Cool – I’m heading down there anyway. Getting her at work.”
“Oh…ok, well…sure. Ok – I’ll take a lift. Thanks, man.”
A zombie’s head exploded sending gore splattering along a wall in the game.
“Grenades, huh?” Mike stood.
“Might not set off the toxics if you head down the hall faster?”
“I’ll try that.” Stanley maneuvered his character down the darkened hallway.
“Cool.”
02_Battered
Meanwhile…
“One, two, three…”
The hammer came down again and again sending wood splinters flying in all directions. Bits of paint flecked bits flew up and hit against Spider Baby’s safety glasses and stuck in her black and gold hair. She brushed the dust and flakes off her t-shirt and coughed.
She thought back on the past night’s events, then dropped the hammer and picked up the steel baseball bat. Shouldn’t make her feel odd, what happened. It was all agreed on before hand and should have been fine, really. Even though it got messed up and the dog got loose. And the fire, well, got loose too.
The bat cut through the air and glass shattered and flew into a thousand pieces. She lost her grip on the handle and almost lost the bat out the front windows. Shit, that’d be the end of things for sure. She stomped over the glass, wood and porcelain shards and her heavy boots crushed small bits into smaller bits. She really should have had better gloves for this.
Spider Baby raised the bat again, took aim at the lamp then let fly. She missed, but connected with the fish tank on the follow through sending one hundred and fifty gallons of salt water and three thousand dollars worth of rare fish spilling out onto the fine wood flooring.
She felt bad about the fish. They were just innocent victims. Just like her.
She rested the bat on her shoulder, surveyed the living room, then nodded to herself and adjusted her glasses. One room down, five to go.
“One, two, three…”
The hammer came down again and again sending wood splinters flying in all directions. Bits of paint flecked bits flew up and hit against Spider Baby’s safety glasses and stuck in her black and gold hair. She brushed the dust and flakes off her t-shirt and coughed.
She thought back on the past night’s events, then dropped the hammer and picked up the steel baseball bat. Shouldn’t make her feel odd, what happened. It was all agreed on before hand and should have been fine, really. Even though it got messed up and the dog got loose. And the fire, well, got loose too.
The bat cut through the air and glass shattered and flew into a thousand pieces. She lost her grip on the handle and almost lost the bat out the front windows. Shit, that’d be the end of things for sure. She stomped over the glass, wood and porcelain shards and her heavy boots crushed small bits into smaller bits. She really should have had better gloves for this.
Spider Baby raised the bat again, took aim at the lamp then let fly. She missed, but connected with the fish tank on the follow through sending one hundred and fifty gallons of salt water and three thousand dollars worth of rare fish spilling out onto the fine wood flooring.
She felt bad about the fish. They were just innocent victims. Just like her.
She rested the bat on her shoulder, surveyed the living room, then nodded to herself and adjusted her glasses. One room down, five to go.
01_One of those mornings
Meanwhile…
Angie Lyst stared at herself in the bathroom mirror as she wiped away the streams of tears that flowed from her eyes like small, sad rivers. She glanced at her watch and her bottom lip quivered slightly in the yellow glow of the bathrooms light bulb. A small rubber duck witnessed the scene with a complacent smile on its beak – seemingly uncaring and cold to Angie’s feelings.
“Ok…you gotta go to work now, Angie lyst. You have to.” She drew in a deep breath and tried to stop crying. It was harder and harder to get out of the house each day. She thought that one day she might not even be able to leave. She’d be some strange, shut in type they’d eventually find after complaints of the smell.
She barked out a laugh and shook her head violently. “Ok…come on. Time to go. Just go and get it over with. You’ll be fine outside.” She swatted the rubber duck off of the sink with the back of her hand, turned and stomped out of the bathroom.
She had to act without thinking. That seemed to work best. She strode t the front door, snatched up her purse and keys, then gripped the door handle hard and turned it. A moment before she jerked the door open, she glanced down at her naked form and released the handle like a hot coal.
“Clothes.” She blinked.
The bright blue daylight streamed through the windows of the Express Café as Angie and her friend Sonnie Fong sipped their coffee in the window seat. Angie stared around the café with a blank expression and toyed with a dime – rolling it around her fingers and palm. Sonnie chattered like a bird, but Angie didn’t mind. Not today. Made it easier not to have to talk.
“So, I just looked at him and said that he better just shut up and put the DVD on before I put my clothes back on, you know? He always pushed it.” She sipped and glanced over at two hipsters who stared back with smiles on their faces. “Eavesdroppers,” She said with a growl as she tossed her shining black hair at them. “So, what’s up with you? You were late again. Ron was grumbling about today. You better watch it.”
“Yeah.” Angie nodded and looked at Sonnie and her perfect skin, eyes, hair, and outfit. On top of all that, she was sweet, cute, friendly, helpful and nice. If Angie didn’t know her so well, she’d hate her. “I’ve been having issues. Just tired, I guess.” The dime dropped to the table and Angie stared at it a moment before picking it back up and rolling it though her fingers again.
Sonnie nodded. “More sleep. Or, more coffee. Something. How’s Stanley?” She looked back over at the hipsters and re-crossed her long legs. She loved the attention and loved hating them for looking. When Sonnie looked back over to Angie, the dime was gone.
Angie swallowed hard. “He’s fine.” She took a sip of her coffee and sighed. “He’s trying.”
“He’s always trying.” She glanced at her watch. “We should get back to work.” She gulped the last of her coffee and stood, making a show out of straightening her skirt and blouse.
Angie crawled up out of her seat and swept her copper red hair back over her shoulders. “Ok…let’s get.” She took two steps and smashed her leg on the table. Her balance lost, she stumbled two feet to the right and flipped over the table there, sliding the three glass coffee cups and their contents to the floor.
Angie sprang up and held her hands out before her. “Ok…ok...” she muttered as if trying to stop two children from fighting. “Ok, yes. Sorry about that. Sorry.” She laughed out loud when she saw the three shocked faces staring at her. It was rather funny, even though she was the cause of the chaos.
A team of Express Café workers dove into action, asking is Angie was all right and trying to see if there was any legal recourse that could be avoided. Angie begged off, thanked them for their concern, then she walked out quickly before anything else could happen.
Sonnie stared Angie all the way up in the elevator. Concern showed on her face and she didn’t seem to believe Angie when se told her everything was fine.
“You’re a wreck. You should deal with this stuff before it gets worse, you know.” Sonnie touched the cuff of Angie’s coffee soaked sleeve. “Nice.”
Angie glanced at it as the doors opened. “It’ll clean up.” She stepped out of the elevator and into her boss, Ron Marks.
The two bounced off each other and regained their footing – each looking the other up and down.
Marks was obviously annoyed and used this as a springboard. “Angie…hello. How are you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I was looking for you earlier, Angie. I really need to see you in here at 9am. We have a lot going on right now and you showing up and 10 and 10:30 just isn’t going to work, ok? Can you make it in by 9? Maybe car pool or get an earlier bus? It’s really important. We have to present a unified front to Kaufman and Clain and not knowing where you are or when you’re going to be in makes it tough. Ok?” His freckled face winced and he rubbed his chest where Angie’s elbow had hit it. He blurted out, “Are you ok?”
Angie blinked, beads of sweat appearing on her forehead. The office noise filled her head. She looked to her feet, then she looked up again up again choking out, “I have a dime in my body right now.” She pointed to her stomach.
Angie Lyst stared at herself in the bathroom mirror as she wiped away the streams of tears that flowed from her eyes like small, sad rivers. She glanced at her watch and her bottom lip quivered slightly in the yellow glow of the bathrooms light bulb. A small rubber duck witnessed the scene with a complacent smile on its beak – seemingly uncaring and cold to Angie’s feelings.
“Ok…you gotta go to work now, Angie lyst. You have to.” She drew in a deep breath and tried to stop crying. It was harder and harder to get out of the house each day. She thought that one day she might not even be able to leave. She’d be some strange, shut in type they’d eventually find after complaints of the smell.
She barked out a laugh and shook her head violently. “Ok…come on. Time to go. Just go and get it over with. You’ll be fine outside.” She swatted the rubber duck off of the sink with the back of her hand, turned and stomped out of the bathroom.
She had to act without thinking. That seemed to work best. She strode t the front door, snatched up her purse and keys, then gripped the door handle hard and turned it. A moment before she jerked the door open, she glanced down at her naked form and released the handle like a hot coal.
“Clothes.” She blinked.
The bright blue daylight streamed through the windows of the Express Café as Angie and her friend Sonnie Fong sipped their coffee in the window seat. Angie stared around the café with a blank expression and toyed with a dime – rolling it around her fingers and palm. Sonnie chattered like a bird, but Angie didn’t mind. Not today. Made it easier not to have to talk.
“So, I just looked at him and said that he better just shut up and put the DVD on before I put my clothes back on, you know? He always pushed it.” She sipped and glanced over at two hipsters who stared back with smiles on their faces. “Eavesdroppers,” She said with a growl as she tossed her shining black hair at them. “So, what’s up with you? You were late again. Ron was grumbling about today. You better watch it.”
“Yeah.” Angie nodded and looked at Sonnie and her perfect skin, eyes, hair, and outfit. On top of all that, she was sweet, cute, friendly, helpful and nice. If Angie didn’t know her so well, she’d hate her. “I’ve been having issues. Just tired, I guess.” The dime dropped to the table and Angie stared at it a moment before picking it back up and rolling it though her fingers again.
Sonnie nodded. “More sleep. Or, more coffee. Something. How’s Stanley?” She looked back over at the hipsters and re-crossed her long legs. She loved the attention and loved hating them for looking. When Sonnie looked back over to Angie, the dime was gone.
Angie swallowed hard. “He’s fine.” She took a sip of her coffee and sighed. “He’s trying.”
“He’s always trying.” She glanced at her watch. “We should get back to work.” She gulped the last of her coffee and stood, making a show out of straightening her skirt and blouse.
Angie crawled up out of her seat and swept her copper red hair back over her shoulders. “Ok…let’s get.” She took two steps and smashed her leg on the table. Her balance lost, she stumbled two feet to the right and flipped over the table there, sliding the three glass coffee cups and their contents to the floor.
Angie sprang up and held her hands out before her. “Ok…ok...” she muttered as if trying to stop two children from fighting. “Ok, yes. Sorry about that. Sorry.” She laughed out loud when she saw the three shocked faces staring at her. It was rather funny, even though she was the cause of the chaos.
A team of Express Café workers dove into action, asking is Angie was all right and trying to see if there was any legal recourse that could be avoided. Angie begged off, thanked them for their concern, then she walked out quickly before anything else could happen.
Sonnie stared Angie all the way up in the elevator. Concern showed on her face and she didn’t seem to believe Angie when se told her everything was fine.
“You’re a wreck. You should deal with this stuff before it gets worse, you know.” Sonnie touched the cuff of Angie’s coffee soaked sleeve. “Nice.”
Angie glanced at it as the doors opened. “It’ll clean up.” She stepped out of the elevator and into her boss, Ron Marks.
The two bounced off each other and regained their footing – each looking the other up and down.
Marks was obviously annoyed and used this as a springboard. “Angie…hello. How are you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I was looking for you earlier, Angie. I really need to see you in here at 9am. We have a lot going on right now and you showing up and 10 and 10:30 just isn’t going to work, ok? Can you make it in by 9? Maybe car pool or get an earlier bus? It’s really important. We have to present a unified front to Kaufman and Clain and not knowing where you are or when you’re going to be in makes it tough. Ok?” His freckled face winced and he rubbed his chest where Angie’s elbow had hit it. He blurted out, “Are you ok?”
Angie blinked, beads of sweat appearing on her forehead. The office noise filled her head. She looked to her feet, then she looked up again up again choking out, “I have a dime in my body right now.” She pointed to her stomach.
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