The children want to learn from me, but not until they know I’m someone with a knowledge. You’ll see at the assembly the moment they turn receptive, at which point you’ll know you’re getting your money’s worth. I have myself lowered from the flyspace on a pair of gymnastic rings, my arms outstretched in the iron cross—it’s most impressive—holding myself crucified above the stage and, while still aloft but gently descending, I call out “Hello, students!” then settle slowly into my waiting wheelchair, all with the use of my arms. “Like you, I tell them, I’m very good at some things, but I’m stupid at walking. Any questions?” They never ask about gymnastics, only why I can’t walk, and that they only care about because of what I can do. “Leaving Miller’s farm after a Senior Week kegger,” I tell them, “I drove my car into a cow.” That night, my first ever drink was forced on me by teens who took their democracy seriously. The very few sober seniors were kidnapped from our homes to Miller’s Farm, where Miller was spurring his sons to excess and imposing a flexible undress code. Corrie Wiener and I were delivered from the trunk of my own Plymouth, laid out on a table, and not offered options. In minutes we were skunked and in love with our stink. We cursed our sober high school years and swam the liquid night in beery benevolence thinking we and the world were beautiful. We hit the cow at eighty miles an hour, the police said. Somewhere between the driver’s seat and Miller’s ditch I broke my back and Corrie never had a chance. I tell the kids I’ve forgiven the Millers. It keeps me in bookings and makes the story inspirational. You’ll see.

This work by davidbdale is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at davidbdale.wordpress.com.

.

Two giant pandas from China were welcomed to Australia with gifts of bamboo and a city party before settling into their new home, a twenty five acre natural enclosure at the Adelaide Zoo.

Four year old male Wang Wang and 3 year-old female Fu Ni are on loan to the zoo for 10 years as part of a joint research program, and their arrival comes amid slightly strained relations between China and Australia.

The pandas were given a police escort to the zoo, which built a $7.25 million enclosure that includes bamboo plants and refrigerated rocks to keep them comfortable in Adelaide’s hot summers. Two Chinese handlers traveled with the pandas and will stay in Adelaide for a few months to help with their adjustment.

“They’re in the quarantine area and they are looking very happy and relaxed,” zoo spokeswoman Emily Rice said as they animals settled into their new quarters, stretching their legs and munching on fruit.

The pandas will be in quarantine at the zoo for 30 days, but will be visible to the public behind glass when their exhibit opens on December 14th.

Twelve life size panda figures lined the runway at the Adelaide airport, where the animals’ flight was met by state Premier Mike Rann and other state and zoo officials holding a “Welcome” sign and branches of bamboo.

An 18 vehicle convoy of floats then left the airport for downtown Adelaide, where a parade through the streets was followed by a public party lasting all afternoon.

The two pandas had been living at the Bifengxia Giant Panda Breeding Center in Ya’an City in southwestern Sichuan province, after the Wolong Giant Panda Research Center where they were living was destroyed in a massive earthquake last year.

Only about 1,600 of the animals live in the wild, while another 120 are in Chinese breeding facilities and zoos.

China uses payments from zoos that host loaned pandas to fund research and breeding programs. Under such loan agreements, any panda cubs born overseas to lent animals remain China’s property.

The pandas are expected to generate more than $600 million for the South Australia state economy during their time here, with an anticipated 262,000 overseas visitors and 1.3 million Australians visiting Adelaide to see the animals.

China often sends gifts of its unofficial national mascot to foreign nations as a sign of friendship. Chinese President Hu Jintao offered the pandas as a goodwill gesture during a 2007 visit to Australia.

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Knock. Knock. Knock.  Julianne ran to the door and opened it.  No one was there.  How could she have missed whoever came to the door?  The hallways were long and narrow, plus they were noisy so even a mouse could have been heard.  She closed the door slowly.

Julianne turned around to go back to bed.  It was late.

“Julie, is your father here?  I’d like to speak to him before I leave,” a translucent figure said.

“Dad isn’t here. He died of a heart attack awhile ago. Stay awhile, Mom, and I’ll go make you some tea,” Julie started for the kitchen but turned around again to ask, “Would you prefer coffee?”

The figure was gone.  Julianne sat up quickly in her bed sweating.  It was just a dream.  After all, her mother died six years ago so how was it even possible that she was in Julie’s apartment.

Knock. Knock. Knock.  Julie jumped and was afraid to even get out of bed.  What if it was her dead mother again? What if it was some other ghost?

“Julianne, did you die in there?  Open up,” it was her boyfriend, Pagan.

She opened the door, still in her pajamas.  After she apologized she got changed.

“Tea or coffee?” Julie asked not even out of the bathroom yet .

“You have beer?”

“Let me check.”

“Thanks, baby,” Pagan sat down on Julie’s couch.

The couch faced a wall.  There was a picture of Julianne and Pagan, and two paintings, one on each side of the photograph.  There wasn’t even a television in her place, so Pagan just sat there and played with his thumbs.

When Julie came back in with a tray with a can of beer and a cup of tea, Pagan was staring at the wall in terror.  Naturally she dropped the tray.  Across from her boyfriend was the wall. It wasn’t the off-white color that it was originally colored.  Instead it was mixed with black and swirled like a black hole.  Tears ran down her eyes just like how she wanted to run away from the hell that was in front of her.

Pagan finally moved.  He looked over at Julie, who was in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen.  His face was pale with fright, and his face was covered with tears.  It was the least from being a comforting scene.

“Pagan, don’t die!”

A hand stretched out from the swirling wall.  Pagan started to speak.  It was as though he knew that he was about to die.

“Baby, I love you,” his fear-stricken eyes closed as the hand went through his chest and squeezed his heart.

“No!” She shook her head as if she were trying to shake away the denial.

She screamed.  Why had no one heard them? Why was this happening?  What was happening?

Suddenly the hand that had come out from the wall before motioned for Julianne to come over.  She took a deep breath and then took a step forward, then another, then another.  After ten steps she was standing in front of Pagan.  Julie touched his face and kissed him ever so gently on the lips.

The hand took Julianne’s right shoulder and sensitively turned her around.  Julie felt weak. The way that her body spun around obediently showed how much she didn’t care anymore.  Without Pagan and her family what else did she have?

When the girl looked up there was a mirror.  It had a wooden antique frame and the glass itself looked dusty.  The swirling wall calmed down, but the hand held the mirror up.  As soon as Julianne saw her ragged reflection in the mirror she snapped out of her daze.

25-players that will fight together with me

Goalkeepers :

1.Antonio Mirante

14.Joey Didulica(LOAN)

*****

Defenders:

2.Cristian Zaccardo

3.Marco Rossi

5.Andrea Raggi(LOAN)

7.Paolo Castellini

15.Jan Kromkamp

16.Alessandro Lucarelli

17.Ronny(LOAN)

28.Massimo Paci

29.Pablo Fontanello

Marius Stankevicius(LOAN)

*****

Midfielders:

4.Stefano Morrone

8.Simoun Poulsen(LOAN)

13.Stefano Mauri

11.Andrea Pisanu

19.Ayub Daud(LOAN)

20.McDonald Mariga

21.Alessandro Budel

22.Alessandro De Vitis

26.Mourad Meghni(LOAN)

27.Nicolas Cordova

*****

Attackers:

9.Denis Alibec

10.Maxi Lopez(LOAN)

12.Simone Dell’Agnello

16.Cristiano Lucarelli

43.Alberto Paloschi

we ate, each of us, a
bucket of ham to go along with
enough bread all right
and we drank a pound of juice
    … or more I’d say

I leaned over and spoke
to my neighbor, but there were
goats on the hillside so
how could we get along

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

setting: a North Carolina B&B community
time: 2003

SCENE 1
common person 1: “I paid my bills.”
cp 2: “I got Mexicans to cut my grass.”
cp 1: “good.”
cp 2: “what are you doing.”
cp 1: “look who just came in.”
cp 3: “hey.”
cp 1: “where you been.”
cp 4: “I am married.”
cp 5: “where’s who been.”
cp 1: “yep.”

SCENE 2
cp 3: “hey.”
wife 3: “the neighbor’s yard looks nice.”
cp 3: “Mexicans do a good job.”
wf 3: “yep.”
wf 3: “help me with this crossword puzzle?”
cp 3: “uh-huh.”
wf 3: “no, look at 4 across …”
cp 3: “all right, maybe ‘turpentine’ then.”
wf 3: “uh-uh.”

SCENE 3
cp 3: “when is the golf program?”
wf 3: “it comes on in a minute, be a little more patient.”
cp 3: “all right.”

SCENE 4
boss 1: “good morning, Joe.”
cp 1: “mornin’ Ralph.”
bo 1: “good morning, Ken.”
cp 3: “morning Ralph.”
cp 1: “did you watch the golf program.”
cp 3: “I did.”
cp 1: “me too.”
cp 3: “I am going to dinner tonight.”
cp 1: “with your wife.”
cp 3: “yeah.”

SCENE 5
valet 1: “hello.”
cp 3: “thank you.”
vl 1: “your wife looks lovely, sir.”
cp 3: “yes, you’re a gentleman”, handing valet 1 $5.
vl 1: “enjoy your dinner, sir.”
wf 3: “did you give the valet his tip.”
cp 3: “yes.”
maitre d 1: “what?”
cp 3: “table for 2.”
md 1: “right this way.”
… a minute later …
md 1: “may I get your chair madam.”
wf 3: “that’s fine.”
wf 3: “what are going to eat.”
cp 3: “soup.”
wf 3: “that sounds good.”
cp 3: “what are going to eat.”
wf 3: “soup.”
cp 3: “that sounds good.”
wf 3: “I like the music.”
cp 3: “pianos are pretty.”

SCENE 6
wf 3: “turn out the lights.”
cp 3: “good night dear.”
wf 3: “good night.”
… several hours later …
zoological monster 1: enters the house 3 through front door ( off stage ).
hs 3: shakes slightly
cp 3: sleeps soundly
zm 1: advances toward bedroom
hs 3: shakes slightly more
zm 1: advances closer to bedroom
cp 3: feels the bed shaking a bit
zm 1: enters the hallway area towards bedroom
hs 3: shakes very much near bedroom
zm 1: “ahhuuhh-ehh, hhuuuu-ehh-hnhnhnhn, uhhuu”, loudly at bedroom entrance
wf 3: opens eyes
zm 1: grunting, thudding gait, steps forward
zm 1: crosses dark bedroom threshold
cp 3: very concerned
wf 3: also very concerned
zm 1: proceeds along cp 3’s bedside
zm 1: turns beyond cp 3’s side of footboard
zm 1: proceeds beyond, parallel to footboard
hs 1: bedroom is destructively rattling
wf 3: can’t believe it
zm 1: crashes through window, destroying much of window frame
hs 1: window glass shatters outward, downward from the second floor window
zm 1: exits bedroom with shards of glass and wall portions
zm 1: lands undaunted in yard beneath window
cp 3: gets out of bed, quick steps to remains of window
cp 3: “its running through the neighbors yard.”
wf 3: joins husband at window
zm 1: moves into a distant darkness
cp 3: calls inurance company and emergency serveices
for several hours there are many investigators examining the scene

SCENE 7
wf 3: “are you going to have breakfast.”
cp 3: “yes.”
wf 3: “what do you want.”
cp 3: “toast, eggs.”
wf 3: “ok.”

SCENE 8
bo 1: “good morning, Joe.”
cp 1: “mornin’ Ralph.”
bo 1: “good morning, Ken.”

cp 3: “morning Ralph.”
cp 1: “how was dinner, Ken.”
cp 3: “it was good.”
cp 3: “did you get the files ready.”
cp 1: “yes.”
cp 3: “good.”

SCENE 9
cp 1: “hello.”
cp 4: “good to see you.”
cp 1: “when did you get the shoes.”
cp 2: “yesterday.”
cp 1: “good.”
cp 4: “have a good evening everybody.”

SCENE 10
wf 4: “dinner’s on the table.”
cp 4: “I am hungry.”
wf 4: “do you like pesto.”
cp 4: “it’s good.”
wf 4: “ok.”
wf 4: “drink your orange juice.”
cp 4: “I will.”

SCENE 11
cp 3: “golf is on.”
wf 3: “my hands are full.”
cp 3: “I am watching golf.”
wf 3: “here’s the wine.”
cp 3: “where’s the pimento.”
wf 3: “I have to make separate trips.”
cp 3: “ok”
wf 3: “here’s the pimento.”
cp 3: “ok.”

SCENE 12
cp 3: “I am thinking about buying a boat.”
cp 2: “boats are nice.”
cp 3: “I looked in the newspaper.”
cp 2: “classified ads?”
cp 3: “yes.”
cp 2: “all right.”
cp 4: “how much.”

curtain down

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

October 27th-29th was a very important date for Owlpoo, as I was able to exhibit my website and show my work to all visitors. Thanks to eye of Dubai, an online portal for everything Dubai, I was given my own space and large TV screen to show Owlpoo on big screen.

It was a very sucessful event which was greatly receieved and a lot of interest was formed. Owlpoo made numerous new contacts, clients and business opportunites.

Owlpoo will shortly be working very closely with schools and now we are working constantly to create Owlpoo into education software for children.

With new inspiration, new stories will be added soon. There will also be an option to translate the stories into arabic and have an audio feature.

See below, a new set of desert character have been created. These will eventually be stories promoting wildlife in the UAE. These are organic illustrations showing the gecko, caracal, camel and falcon.

Owlpoo can’t wait for next Dubai Character and Licensing show in 2010!

www.owlpoo.com
Organic Illustration

Safety sucks.
Or should i say, lack of.
I mean, it stopped last night from reaching its full potential. What is it really needed for anyway? I’m not sick. She’s not sick. And the other possibility is rather unlikely.

But last night was awesome. We had our leavers dinner which was so much better than everyone had expected. Well, it was above my expectations anyway. Even though we didn’t really do much, it was just so good. Just walking around talking to everyone, some of which i may never see again, and getting lots of photos taken with everyone, and just talking about anything that comes to mind, all the memories created over the years. It was just so good, and it makes me realise how much i am going to miss grade ten. I’m going to miss the laid-back style of it, with the school work that doesn’t really mean much at all, with all the friends there at lunch times, and just having everyone in the one place, so you don’t have to make an effort to see everyone.

Effort.
That’s what i’m scared of in the future. I’m scared that i won’t make the effort to see people, or they won’t make an effort to see me. That is what i love about school. The lack of effort. Or should i say, the reduced effort. Oh well, at least i can stay at the same school next year, and most people are staying with. But there are only two years left, and i’m scared they’re going to fly by before i can catch a glimpse.

Glimpse.
What an awesome word.

The big house on the cliff overlooking Blackport was silent in the grey of morning. The sun hadn’t risen yet and everything was still. Still, that is, except for two figures climbing down a rope from the third storey. It wasn’t totally silent either, the quiet of morning broken by a whispered conversation between the two:

“Why do we have to climb down from here, Dad?”

“Because it’s more adventuresome!”

“But neither of our rooms are even on the third storey, why’d we come up here just to climb down again?”

“It’s more dangerous and exciting, now hush up!”

They were silent then, as they climbed down, the taller of the two figures tugging on the rope to bring it down after they were safely on the ground. This silence was broken once more as they stole away from the house, moving swiftly and silently, heading for the steep cliff path that led down to the private docks.

“You really miss pirating, don’t you Dad.”

“What makes you say that?”

“All the effort you go to with stuff like this.”

“Well, if you can make life a little more fun, why wouldn’t you?”

The smaller of the two figures shrugged.

“If you can call this fun.”

“I’m enjoying myself, aren’t you enjoying yourself?”

“Maybe just a little.”

“Then what’s to complain about?”

Evidently the smaller figure couldn’t think of anything, as they were both silent again until they reached the small private docks at the base of the cliff, and there a small, slightly unusual-looking ship–a sloop, painted black.

“How long has it been since we took her out together?” asked Miya’s father, as they prepared the Black Swan for launch. “Months? Years?”

“We took her out last week. You taught me how to do that fast-turn trick.”

“Oh, right.”

The Black Swan’s sails went up and they slid quietly out of dock and then out of the harbour, away from the island and into more open waters. Father and daughter looked back at Clover Island.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“Our island, you blind mole of a daughter,” said Tomas.

“I can barely see anything except some lights and like just a dark outline.”

“A silhouette. I love silhouettes, have I ever mentioned?”

“Only about a million times, Dad.”

They looked at the silhouette of Clover Island for a few seconds.

“It’s a good place,” said Tomas. “When all’s said and done.”

“The best place,” said Miya, firmly. Tomas smiled.

“I don’t think I ever told you this, your mother never exactly approved–the reason we named it ‘Clover’ Island.”

“It’s because it’s shaped like a clover, isn’t it? Like kind of a weird three-leaf clover. Without a stem. And with some bits kind of fallen off it, for the teeny-tiny mini islands out in the harbour–oh, let’s head to Faraway Island, we can see if the parrots still remember my name!”

“I thought we were going to Miya Bay?”

“Oh yeah. Anyway, isn’t that why it’s called Clover Island? The shape?”

Tomas shook his head. “Not quite, although that did influence our decision–did you know we almost chose Triangle Island?”

“What? Seriously? This island’s WAY better, you chose good.”

“Thanks,” said Tomas, laughing. “Although the opal they’ve started digging up there recently might have been nice.”

“Oh, who needs opal, it’s just a dumb old bit of shiny rock when you get right down to it,” said Miya. “I’d much rather have the nice hills and fields and the river, you’d never be able to swim in that little thing they’ve got on Triangle Island. And they haven’t got any mountains.”

“Well, to be fair neither do we.”

“What do you call the Dragon’s Spine, then? That’s DEFINITELY a mountain!”

Tomas smiled.

“Well, maybe,” he said diplomatically–the Dragon’s Spine was the narrow hill that made up the north side of the Blackport harbour. It was steep and rocky and might look like a mountain to someone who had never seen a real one (to pick an example at random, Miya) in the same way that a metre-long spotted blade might seem like a ‘big fish’ to someone who had never seen a twelve metre-long rainbow magnus mola.

“But steering us back to the point for just a moment,” he said, “I was trying to be quite romantic and whimsical in finally imparting to you the true reason we named it Clover Island.”

“Is it something to do with your sword?”

“It’s to do with my–oh.”

“Because it’s got that little clover symbol on the guard.”

“Yes, well–”

“And since you said Mum didn’t approve I figured it had to be something pirate-y. So the sword was before the island, huh?”

“Not terribly long before, but yes. You know I received it–”

“–from an Algernian pirate, you’ve told me like twenty times.”

Tomas grinned.

“It’s a very old blade, you know,” he said. “Not many like it, these days.”

“It’s just an Amician straight sabre, Dad, I know they’re not popular but you don’t have to make it sound, y’know, magical or whatever. Uncle Lars uses one just like it.”

“My sword,” said Tomas, just a little tetchily, “as I have told you MORE than twenty times before, is a ROYAL Amician straight sabre.”

“All right, all right, don’t get your hair in a bunch about it. Isn’t ANY sword you use ‘royal’ anyway, seeing as you’re a king and all?”

“That’s not what the ‘royal’ part means. It’s not a sword made for royalty–”

“I know, Dad, I’m just playing with you. When are you going to tell me something I haven’t heard MORE than twenty times before?”

“I don’t think I will, now. You’ve hurt my sword’s feelings.”

“Swords don’t have feelings, Dad. They’re just things.”

“If Hands heard you say you’d never hear the end of it.”

“Whatever, just tell me the end of the story or whatever.”

“Maybe another time.”

“Dad.”

“No, the moment has passed, and I’ve forgotten what I was going to say in any case. But it is a GOOD place, though, isn’t it? Hardly any fighting, no wars, decent trade, good people, and a princess who is the most beautiful and talented and good-natured girl in all of the Rainbow Archipelago–no, in all of the Necessary Ocean!”

“Dad.”

“Can’t a father be proud?”

“Could you just be a bit, y’know, quieter about it? Be quietly proud. Show some dignity,” said Miya.

“I try, but it’s so difficult. I almost burst with pride every time I look at you.”

“It’s lucky we’re out in the water because I think I’m going to vomit.”

Tomas smiled at his daughter.

“Why don’t you take us around?” he said. “Take me on a little tour.”

“Shouldn’t you be doing stuff for me? It’s my birthday, after all.”

“And your present is that you get to do everything yourself. Independence, responsibility, fine gifts.”

Miya smiled as she took control of the ship, guiding it into a gentle turn that took it towards the eastern side of the island. “I’d better be getting some real presents too.”

“Maybe.”

“What’d you get me?”

“Wait and see.”

“What’d Mum get me? Is it something really embarrassing?”

“It’s … wait and see.”

“Uh-oh.”

“I think you’ll like it. Just … wait and see.”

“Now I’m really worried.”

“Oh look, cateyes.”

“Don’t try to distract me with–ooh.”

What appeared to be dozens of pearly lights danced just under the surface of the water nearby, their soft glow almost otherworldly.

“You loved these when you were a little girl,” said Miya’s father, his tone soft. “You used to beg me to take you out to try and see them.”

“When I WAS a little girl? So you’re admitting I’m NOT a little girl now?”

“Much as I hate to.”

Miya stood a little straighter as she steered the ship through the cateyes, taking care not to get too close. Her father smiled at the expression on her face.

“I can hardly believe that you’re fourteen already,” he said, after a minute. “It seems like only yesterday that you were this tiny little thing all wrapped up in blankets, peering up at me with those dark little eyes and that round little mouth.”

“Mm,” said Miya. Tomas grinned at her.

“And now look at you,” he said. “This tiny little thing helming a ship like a true … sailor.”

“Oh my goodness did you just make a joke about my height?”

“Only out of love, Coconut, only out of love.”

“And what do you mean ‘true dot dot dot sailor’? Mum isn’t anywhere around, you know, you can use the p-word.”

“I’m still not confident, that woman has the most incredible hearing at times.”

“Come on.”

“All right. Helming your ship like a proud pirate captain, ready to sail the world in search of adventure,” said Tomas, grinning as he looked out to sea.

“And booty. Don’t forget the booty.”

“Ah, booty’s overrated. But adventure! The endless ocean! The wheel in your hands and the whole world before you, that’s what a ship is, Miya, that’s what being a pirate is, it’s freedom, the freedom to–”

“Tomas Black, are you putting ideas in that girl’s head again?”

Miya laughed as her father jumped a full foot in the air, spinning around to face his wife.

“Miya! Don’t do that to your poor old dad! That’s cruel even by our family’s standards! How long have you been able to mimic your mother so well?”

“Oh, you know, just something I’ve been working on,” said Miya, still grinning as she started to bring the ship around the point.

“Don’t devote your time to such things! By the open sea, Coconut, you almost sent me jumping overboard!”

“I still don’t get why Mum’s so anti-pirate anyway, I mean she married one.”

“Arr, you weren’t around in the troubles, you can’t understand. You haven’t had to deal with some of the scum that call themselves pirates.”

“Was that an ‘arr’ just now?” inquired Miya innocently.

“And so what if it was? Yarr, be that Miya Bay I spies with me big, bulgin’, bloodshot eye?”

Miya laughed. “That it be,” she said. “And by the way, your ‘pirate’ is still terrible.”

“I know, I never got the hang of doing the voice. My parents always–ah–”

“Your parents what?” asked Miya, her tone suddenly sharp. “What about them?”

“Nothing, Miya, concentrate on steering us in safely. I know it’s your bay but that doesn’t mean it’ll do you any favours. Mind that sand bar to port.”

Miya frowned a little, fell silent as she concentrated on steering them into the bay. After a few minutes she locked the wheel and pulled in the sails.

“About here?” she asked.

“It’s your ship, captain,” her father replied. Miya smiled a little as she went to put down the anchor.

“Shall we go ashore?” she said.

Ten minutes later the sun was just starting to show itself over the eastern horizon, and Miya and her father were pulling a small dinghy up on to Miya Beach. When Miya was very young her parents had brought her here often, and it was on this beach that she’d spoken her first word: ’sea’ (or ’see’, if you asked her mother). Her father had spontaneously declared the beach to be Miya Beach, the bay to be Miya Bay, an otherwise fairly ordinary rock in the middle of the bay to be Miya Rock, and probably would have gone on to name everything in sight after his daughter if it wasn’t for the balancing influence of his wife. Nevertheless, ever since then, on every official map of Clover Island, Miya Bay was clearly marked as such. Growing up, it had been a favourite playground for her–she learned to swim here, to fish, to sail, and on her twelfth birthday, two years ago to the day, this was where her father had given her the Black Swan.

“Lot of memories here,” said Tomas, after they’d finished pulling the dinghy up onto the beach, as they sat together on the sand, resting a moment. “I remember–”

“You’re too stuck in the past, old man,” said Miya, reaching out to pinch her father’s arm. “You’re missing the sunrise.”

“I can admire a sunrise and reminisce at the same time,” said Tomas.

“Still, though. My birthday, my rules. And one of my birthday rules is ‘no embarrassing childhood memories during sunrises’.”

“It’s not embarrassing, it’s very moving and cute!”

“For you, maybe. For me, it’s embarrassing,” said Miya. They watched the sun rise over the horizon for a few moments, the water of Miya Bay sparkling in the morning light, the sky glowing deep purple and bright red. Tomas sighed and tucked his legs up under his chin.

“Bored now,” he said.

“Honestly, you’re more of a child than I am–was,” said Miya. “So what do you want to do?”

“Have an adventure with my best daughter, of course!”

“What kind of adventure?”

“Let’s go hunt for that money tree.”

“Hey! No embarrassing memories!”

“That’s not a memory, it’s a … memento. Or something. Let’s go!”

Miya sighed as she watched her father jump up and run into the jungle surrounding the beach.

“It’s dark, we won’t be able to see in there!” she called out after him.

“Miya, it’s dark and I can’t see in here!” she heard her father call back.

“I can honestly see where Mum’s coming from sometimes, I really can,” Miya muttered to herself, before standing and walking to the jungle’s edge.

“Why did you go charging in there, anyway?” she called out, into the jungle. “My money tree’s over there, on the north end of the beach.”

“Ka-ka!”

“Dad.”

“Ka-ka!”

Miya sighed. “Ka-ka,” she said.

“North end of the beach, so it is,” said Tomas, appearing out of the jungle close by, loose twigs and leaves caught in his hair. Miya tutted and reached up to pick the larger bits out.

“How’d your hair get so long and bushy, anyway? How’d you get it past Mum’s ‘Hair Watch’?”

“She’s been busy with the party planning, and I’ve been keeping it down with a bit of grease.”

“Gross. Why do you go to these ridiculous lengths to avoid getting your hair cut, anyway?”

“Makes life fun. Race you to the tree!”

Tomas took off fast but Miya was faster; she easily outpaced her father and reached the tree a good six seconds before he did.

“Beat you,” she said. “And I’m not puffed out at all.”

“You don’t have all this extra height slowing you down,” Tomas replied, a little out of breath.

“That’s two height gags in one day–and on my birthday, too. You’re on the edge. Really on the edge.”

“Putting that aside, any fruit?”

“Of course not, how could there–oh, come on.”

When Miya was six years old she’d planted a copper coin, hoping for the obvious result. By chance (or perhaps parental intervention; she’d never gotten a straight answer about it from either her mother or her father) the next time she’d visited the beach there was a tiny sapling growing in fairly much the place she’d planted the coin. Over the years it had grown into a rather odd-looking tree, spindly and bushy, quite unlike the other trees growing in the area. However, it had never shown signs of bearing fruit of any description, until–

“You’ve painted a passionfruit. How childish.”

“I don’t know why you’re looking at me, I’m as astounded as you are,” said Tomas.

Miya examined the small, silver fruit hanging from a branch. “And you’ve glued it to my tree.”

“Do I look like the sort of person who would do that?”

“You look exactly like the sort of person who’d do that,” said Miya.

“Maybe you should pick it, it looks ripe.”

“I’m not eating it if that’s what you’re suggesting. That paint could be poisonous or something.”

“Well, maybe.”

Miya examined her father’s face, but found nothing to read there. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and picked the fruit. It came away easily, and felt heavy in her hand.

“What an odd fruit,” said her father.

“It’s Heavy,” said Miya. “I Wonder If There Is Something Inside.”

“Goodness, yes, good question.”

“I Shall Open It Then, And See.”

Miya pushed a thumb into the fruit, then pulled it apart. Inside was a lead sinker and a small silver coin. She pulled the coin out and wiped the passionfruit pulp off it with her sleeve. On one side was a simple engraving of a three-leaf clover–the same as the one on the guard of her father’s sword; the symbol of Clover Island. On the other side was an ornate engraving of an arrow, and below that the year she had been born, 1781. In the top of the coin was a small hole.

“Happy birthday, Coconut,” said her father. Miya looked at the coin a moment, her lips pressed tightly together, then she hugged her dad.

“How long did you spend setting all this up?” she asked.

“Not so much time as to make it a waste,” he replied.

She released him and looked at the coin again. “Did you–”

“And you all laughed at me for buying that book on engraving.”

“It’s really cool. Thanks, Dad. It’s a really cool present.”

“I thought you’d enjoy it. Oh, here,” Tomas fished around in his pocket and brought out a leather loop. “In case you want to wear it around your neck or something.”

Miya took the loop and slipped it through the hole in the coin, then put it around her neck. “Pirate-y enough?” she asked.

“Very pirate-y. The height of pirate fashion, I’d say. You’d be the belle of any pirate ball.”

“Do pirates have balls?”

“Some of them.”

“How horrid.” Miya looked down at her new necklace. “I might … maybe I’ll make an earring out of it, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I think that would be very suitable, keeping in mind–”

“The dangers of earrings in a fight, yes Dad, I will keep that in my mind forever and ever and ever because you’ve told me it so many times I don’t think I could forget even if I tried very very hard.”

Tomas shrugged with a grin.

“Should we start heading back?” Miya asked. “I kind of have this feeling that Mum might freak out if we’re not around when she wakes up.”

“I suppose we should. But let’s do this again soon–or better yet …”

Tomas trailed off, then shook his head.

“Or, no,” he said. “Perhaps not.”

“What? What were you going to say?”

“It’s nothing.”

“You were going to say something!”

“As I said, nothing, nothing of importance, just a passing thought of no importance or relevance.”

“When you start talking fancily like that I know you’re hiding something, it’s your, what do you call it, your tell,” said Miya.

“I have no idea what it is you’re trying to impart,” said Tomas, guiltily.

“What would you start to say and then–OH. You were going to say we should, that I should come along on your next trip away! Right? Looking for those smugglers that are becoming a problem, right? I’m right, aren’t I. Aren’t I? Yeah, I’m right. Or those raiders down south, around Hermit Island, go sort them out together, father-daughter team, that’s what you were going to say, I know you were, don’t try to deny it.”

“Do not tell your mother that I even began to say that kind of thing,” said Tomas. “Now give me a hand getting the dinghy back in the water.”

“But you WERE beginning to say it, right?” said Miya, joining her father in dragging the dinghy down to the water’s edge. “I won’t tell Mum, I won’t tell anyone, I swear, but you were about to say something like that, weren’t you?”

“Come on, get in, I’ll do the push,” said Tomas. Miya hopped in the dinghy and stared at her father as he pushed the boat out into water deep enough to start rowing, then continued staring at him as he got in the boat and took up the oars. As he started rowing she kept staring at him, and she continued staring at him until they were nearly back to Miya’s ship, when he gave an exasperated, defeated, exaggerated sigh. At that point Miya stopped staring and started grinning.

“All right then, you win,” he said. “I was thinking that, yes, perhaps you’re old enough now to take along–not to anything dangerous, not to investigate rumours of bad goings-on, or to ’sort out’ raiders, but, yes, perhaps on a routine trip where I expect nothing bad to happen … on my seasonal visit to the major islands, perhaps, BUT,” Miya’s father fixed a stern eye upon her, his rarely-spotted ’serious face’, “only, and I repeat that, only if your mother gives her approval.”

“But Mum would never–”

“Never say never, Coconut. I think I may know how to penetrate her defences on this one. Leave it to me, and say nothing to her, nothing to anyone, in fact don’t even think too hard about this until I bring it up again. Okay? Deal?”

“Deal. PP. Pirate Promise,” said Miya, holding out her hand. Tomas shook his head.

“No, no pirates on this one, this isn’t anything to do with pirates or pirating. This is serious stuff about, you know, island matters. Responsibilities of a king and a princess.”

“Got it,” said Miya. They bumped up against the Black Swan, and Miya leapt onto her ship. “Pirate’s honour, I won’t say a word!”

“The honour of a pirate isn’t worth much, Coconut.”

“The honour of THIS pirate is! Come on, lubber, haul up that dinghy right-smart, or I’ll have your guts for garters!” Miya called out, climbing the mast to unfurl the sails.

“And you can stop that kind of talk too, before you develop bad habits that might slip out in front of someone who would NOT appreciate them.”

“If any wench or swain have a problem with me manner of speech, I’ll do for ‘em like Heartless Jon did for the Red Gang, savvy?”

“But seriously Miya, don’t talk like that anywhere near your mother, it’d be me that paid for it,” said Tomas.

“Okay, fine, just trying to get into the spirit of things. Got that dinghy secured yet?”

“Almost.”

“By all the spirits of the sea, ye’re slower than a bilge rat covered in molasses. Get a move on, ye scurvy sea louse!”

“Come down and help if you’re in such a hurry.”

“Arr, ye think hauling up a lowly dinghy be the work of a pirate captain?”

“In a two-man crew? Pretty much.”

“Oh, all right then, you big baby. I’ll help just to stop you whinging,” said Miya, jumping down to help pull the dinghy onto the side of the ship and hook it firmly into place.

“There,” said Tomas. “Many hands make light work, you know.”

“And people doing what they’re told the first time without whining about it makes for an efficient ship,” said Miya. “Go and trim the sails, would you? Keep yourself busy and out of trouble.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

Miya pulled up the anchor then unlocked the wheel, squeezing it gently as she turned the ship around to head out of the bay. There wasn’t much wind until they passed Miya Rock, then suddenly the sails filled and they were away, zipping along the water at a great pace.

“Fastest ship in the Black Navy,” Tomas commented, as they neared the eastern point.

“Excuse me, fastest ship in the Necessary Ocean, I think you’ll find,” said Miya, a little haughtily. “And if we’re being pedantic then, as you tell me rather too often, it’s not actually part of the Black Navy. The Black Swan is an independent. If we ever went to war or whatever I’d have to make up my own mind about which side to support.”

“Well, I’d certainly petition for your aid,” said Tomas. “Although … this is just a gut feeling, you understand, just an old ex-pirate’s instinct, but it is possible that a ship with no guns might not be that useful in a sea battle.”

“I’d avoid the enemy’s cannons and board them before they knew what was happening,” said Miya. “Grapple the enemy ship, climb on board, fight my way to the captain and duel them for control of their ship.”

“Goodness.”

“You don’t think I could?”

“I don’t think I’d want you to try.”

“Huh.” Miya spun the wheel then held it steady, correcting their course slightly as they passed the eastern point and sailed out into the open ocean. After a moment she squinted and leaned forward. “Is that something out there?”

“Where? I don’t see anything.”

“There, to the north, it’s quite small. Take the wheel a moment.”

Miya ran into the captain’s cabin and emerged a few seconds later with a spyglass, which she raised to her eye.

“It’s a boat, a dinghy I think. What’s it doing way out there?”

“May I?” Tomas asked. Miya handed him the spyglass and he looked through. “It’s a canoe,” he said, “from one of the northern islands. Ta’asi, maybe, or Faloa. He’s a long way from home, I wonder … Miya–sorry, Captain Miya, what say you?”

“I say we go and see what he’s doing here,” said Miya, jumping up to the stern deck and taking the wheel, changing course to head towards the distant black speck. “You think he’s lost?”

“I doubt it, the northern islanders are superb navigators,” said Tomas. “Ah, it looks like he’s seen us.”

Tomas patted his daughter on her shoulder, then quickly climbed the mast, waving to the man in the canoe, who waved back before returning to his paddling.

“He must be very strong,” said Miya. “To paddle for that long.”

“They’re great warriors, although most of the tribes are fairly peaceful these days,” said Tomas, as he climbed down from the mast.

“HELLO!” Miya called out. “CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

Apparently not, as the man in the canoe didn’t respond. Miya impatiently tapped her fingers on the wheel as they drew closer, then called out again:

“CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?”

“We’re in no hurry, Miya, calm down.”

“But it’s exciting!”

Tomas grinned at the look in his daughter’s eyes. They quickly closed the distance between themselves and the man in the canoe, to the point where they could see him clearly. He was big, broad with powerful-looking arms. His skin was a deep brown, glistening with ocean spray. Miya and her father brought the Black Swan to a stop, and the man in the canoe paddled closer.

“Is that Clover Island?” he called out. His voice was deep and clear.

“It is,” Tomas called back. “Will you come aboard? You must be tired.”

“I am. Thank you,” said the man–although now he was closer, Miya realised that despite his size he was probably only a few years older than she was. He caught the rope Miya threw him and quickly secured his canoe, then accepted Tomas’s hand and climbed aboard the Black Swan. He was tall, towering over Miya and almost a head taller than Tomas, who was not a short man. He wore a cloth skirt, patterned black and white, and a leather belt with several tools hanging off it. His face was open and his deep hazel eyes were kind.

“Welcome aboard the Black Swan,” said Miya. “I’m Miya, this is my dad Tomas.”

“My name is Sola.”

“Sola! What does it mean? I heard that northern island names all have an interesting meaning,” said Miya.

“It means ‘everything in the sky’,” said Sola.

“My name means ‘beautiful arrow’,” said Miya. “Mum picked the first bit and Dad picked the second. And Dad’s name–”

“Wait. I’m sorry to interrupt, but you said Tomas? Tomas Black?”

“Yes,” said Tomas. “I’m Tomas Black.”

“The king of Clover Island. You are the man I am searching for,” said Sola. He knelt, his head bowed, and slapped his bare chest. He stayed in this position a moment, then straightened again, looking Tomas straight in the eye. “I have two messages for you. The first message is that a pirate calling himself Badger Pete has invaded Tonfa-Tonfa. He has enslaved my people. I believe we are not the first to fall to him.”

Miya looked at her father, her eyes wide. His face was drawn, his expression dark.

“Go on,” said Tomas. “What’s the second message?”

Sola hesitated just for a moment, then he spoke:

“The second message is that I am your son. My mother was Priestess Ma’ala. She spoke of you as a man of deep righteousness and strong moral fibre.”

“I … uh …”

Miya looked at her father, whose expression had turned kind of blank. He opened his mouth and seemed about to say something, but then closed it again. Miya stepped forward and smiled at Sola.

“Thank you for delivering your messages,” she said quickly, in what she thought of as her ‘princess’ tone of voice. “We’ll head to our house straight away and–oh, wow, you’re my brother!”

“If you are Tomas Black’s daughter then yes, I am your half-brother,” said Sola. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you, too!”

“Ma’ala?” said Tomas, his voice a little distant.

“Ignore him, I’m sure it’s just kind of a shock,” said Miya, as she took the wheel and began guiding the ship back towards Clover Island. “Is your canoe okay being towed like this?”

“It should be.”

“Good. Well, I guess it’s a shock to me too.”

“I can understand.”

“Ma’ala,” said Tomas.

“Getting a Sudden Brother and all, it’s not something that happens every day. But, oh … your people. That’s awful!”

“Yes.”

“Did … did you fight back? Alongside your people?” Miya asked.

“I … was not there at the time of the attack. I had been away, hunting, fishing. When I returned I saw Badger Pete’s ships, and … and what remained of my village. I waited until it was dark, then snuck aboard one of the bigger ships. My people … the strong adults are being forced to work as Pete’s crew. Those unable to work, mostly the young and the old, have been captured. Badger Pete is threatening to hurt them or worse should my people attempt to fight back or refuse his orders.”

“That’s horrible,” said Miya, quietly.

“Yes.”

“It certainly is,” said Tomas. Both Miya and Sola looked at him, Miya noting how suddenly old his face looked. Tomas cleared his throat. “I’m, uh, I’m sorry that I was …” he trailed off, then cleared his throat again and continued. “I’m sorry about your people, Sola … and I’m sorry that … that is … I didn’t know–”

Sola held up his hand. “I understand,” he said.

“Anything that I–that Clover Island can do … that is …” Tomas straightened. “Tonfa-Tonfa has the full support of Clover Island, and myself personally,” he said.

“And of me,” Miya added.

Sola nodded. “Thank you.”

“Are you tired?” Miya asked. “Do you want to sit down or lie down? There’s a cot in my cabin.”

Sola thought a moment, then nodded again. “Please,” he said.

“It’s this way. Make yourself at home!” said Miya, showing Sola to her cabin and opening the door for him. Sola nodded once more, then entered Miya’s cabin, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the door frame. Miya closed the door behind him, then turned to her father. He was on the stern deck, leaning on the back rail and gazing out to sea. She chewed on her lip for a moment, then approached him.

“Dad?”

“Miya.”

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

“Is–”

“It’s okay. I’m just thinking.”

“What are you thinking?”

Tomas just shook his head. Miya looked at him for a moment, worried, then turned away.

“I’ll get us back to port,” she said.

What Tomas was mostly thinking was this: “Pirates. Here. Pirates, of all things.”

What Miya was mostly thinking was this: “Pirates! Here! Pirates! Of all things!”

It was several hours later. Miya and Sola sat together in one of her house’s lounges–the nice lounge–while their father broke the news to Lily.

“Would you like a biscuit?” Miya asked.

“No. Thank you,” said Sola.

There was a silence for a few moments.

“Another cup of tea?”

Sola looked at the cup on the table in front of him, barely touched.

“No, thank you.”

“No,” said Miya. She looked at the door. “Um. I don’t have any other brothers or sisters. Do you?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Another slightly uncomfortable silence.

“Dad’s taking a long time. I hope everything’s okay.”

“Yes.” Sola thought for a moment. “I have several cousins. And many aunts and uncles. And a grandmother.”

“Oh, really? That sounds nice … it’s just Mum and Dad and me here, pretty much. Well, I call Lars ‘Uncle Lars’ sometimes but he’s not really my uncle, just Dad’s old friend. I guess it’s not quite the same.”

“I don’t know,” said Sola.

“So apart from your aunts and uncles and cousins, it’s just you and your mother?”
Sola was silent for a moment before replying. “My mother died last year.”

Miya spluttered on the sip of tea she was taking.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, I didn’t … I didn’t realise at all.”

“It was shortly before she died that she told me who my father was.”

“Before that you didn’t know?” Miya asked. Sola shook his head.

“I knew he was not from my village. That is all.”

“Wow.”

“Yes.”

There was another silence, this one somehow not so uncomfortable. Miya sipped at her tea. Sola stared at his. Miya began to say something then closed her mouth as she heard movement in the hallway outside. She and Sola looked at the door as her father entered. He looked tired.

“Hi kids,” he said.

“Hi Dad,” said Miya, as Sola inclined his head towards their father. “Uh, how’s Mum?”

“She’s …” Tomas grinned. “She is a queen.”

“She’s okay?”

“Well … once she understood the situation. Once I was able to tell her that Sola is seventeen now, and after she did a little simple mathematics. That part of things … let’s be honest, it’s strange. I’m sure not least of all to you, Sola.”

Sola nodded.

“But … well … how to put this …” Tomas frowned as he tried to find the right words.

“The fact that I am your son is a personal matter,” Sola said. “And the situation concerning Badger Pete is of more general importance, at this juncture.”

“Well … yes,” said Tomas. He grinned at Sola. “Exactly.”

“So are we going after him? Like right now?” asked Miya. She put her cup of tea down and stood up. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“I like your enthusiasm, Miya,” said Tomas, “but this really isn’t something that–”

“What! Are you kidding? I’m the princess of this island, my brother’s people have been enslaved, there’s a rogue pirate out there doing goodness knows what and you’re standing there saying that this isn’t something that concerns me?”

“No,” said Tomas patiently, “what I was going to say was that this isn’t something that you can just jump into. That’s ‘you’ generally, not ‘you’ personally, just to be clear. Although to be even more clear, yes, it DOES apply to you personally as well. JDJ, Coconut. What I mean is that we can’t just go rushing off without finding more information–how big Pete’s gang is, where they’re based, who would support us if we did decide to go after him–”

“We don’t need support! You and me, Dad, let’s take this sea rat down!”

Tomas laughed. “You’re certainly my daughter, aren’t you?”

“You’re darn right I am!”

“But aside from anything–ah.”

Lily stood at the entrance to the room. She looked at Sola and smiled.

“Hello, Sola. I’m Lily,” she said.

“Hello,” Sola replied, standing. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“And my absolute pleasure to meet you. I only wish it were in better circumstances.”

Sola bowed a little, then hesitated.

“You can sit down again,” Miya whispered. Sola did so, turning to smile and nod his thanks to her.

“Miya,” Lily said. “Your party–”

“Doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t. It can be postponed. It’s not important. I don’t mind, honestly.”

“Well,” said Lily. “Well, how noble. Thank you, Miya.”

Miya curtsied primly, privately thinking that perhaps her mother could have protested just a little more.

“Although,” said Lily, “I don’t believe we need to cancel everything.”

Postpone, thought Miya, not cancel!

“I think we should still have the lunch. The food is being prepared in any case, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste. However, the formal dance … and the duelling contest,” said Lily, her expression softening at the look of dismay on her daughter’s face. “I know, sweetie, but–”

“It’s fine,” said Miya, her voice a little tight. “We’ll have the lunch. Everyone will be there anyway, that’s the important thing.”

“And of course your presents,” said Tomas. “Also very, very important.”

“Of course,” said Miya, forcing brightness into her voice.

“It’s your birthday?” Sola asked.

“Yes.”

“How old are you today?”

“Fourteen,” said Miya. She felt a little flat.

“An adult, then,” he said. “Perhaps not such good timing.”

“What do you mean by that?” Tomas asked. Sola looked up at him.

“When it is a time of war, there are some that say it’s better to be a boy than a man–or better to be a girl than a woman.”

“Ah, yes, perhaps so,” said Tomas.

“However, on this island we do not consider fourteen to be an adult,” said Lily, just a little curtly.

“Also … I think predicting war at this point may be a little … premature,” said Tomas.

Sola shook his head sadly.

“I hope so,” he said.

Lunch had been a great success, with almost everyone in town and a number of people from elsewhere on the island attending, the town square of Blackport filled with people and tables loaded with food–dainty sandwiches with the crusts cut off alongside great roasted pigs on spits, fresh fruit served on elegant plates alongside massive vats of custard. Miya had received a number of presents–mostly clothes, but also a tiny wooden horseshoe charm from Penny that she’d carved herself, and from the people of the island a fine new compass in a hard leather case. But now was the time for her family to give her their presents–traditionally the part of her birthday that Miya loved the most, although recent events had dulled her enthusiasm more than a little.

“I would like to raise a toast,” said Tomas, addressing the crowd and raising his glass. He looked down at his daughter, seated to his left, then at Sola beside her, and then around to Lilith, who was to his right. He looked back up at the crowd. “To my daughter, Princess Miya Black, fourteen years old today!”

“To Princess Miya!” the crowd replied, raising their glasses. Miya raised her own in response, rolling her eyes slightly and grinning a little grin. Tomas smiled at her, then looked at his wife. “Would you like to go first?” he asked.

Miya and her mother stood, Miya feeling very uncomfortable–receiving her presents each year had been a favourite tradition of hers, and it had always before seemed right to do it in front of the people of the island. Now, though, it felt oddly wrong, like they were putting on a show just to delay telling them about Badger Pete and the fate of Sola’s village. Nevertheless, Miya put on a bright expression and smiled as her mother brought out a large, flat box.

“I know you’re not one for this kind of thing, but a mother always has hope,” she said. “May I?”

Miya nodded, and watched as her mother opened the box and produced her present. A conflicted sequence of thoughts flashed through her mind as she looked at it.

First: Oh my goodness that’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen in all my life.

Second: Wait a minute, I hate dresses!

Third: But the colour and the cut and the way it kind of shimmers and oh my goodness the COLOUR!

Fourth: I can never wear that in public. I have a reputation to uphold: Miya Black, Hater of Dresses. I will never wear that in public.

Fifth: Unless it looks really, really good on me.

Sixth: Wait, Sola’s village! Badger Pete! This is no time to be getting conflicted about dresses! No matter how gorgeous they are!

Seventh: But the COLOUR!

Eighth: Oh, the crowd. Smile! Look pleased! Be a princess!

Miya smiled at her mother and hugged her. “Thank you, Mum. I … I don’t entirely hate it?”

Lily smiled at her daughter and returned the hug, then Queen Lilith carefully folded the dress and put it back in the box.

“Next, your father has something for you,” she said, stepping back as Tomas stepped forward.

“I didn’t wrap it,” he said, smiling at his daughter. “It didn’t seem right, somehow. Well, anyway … happy birthday, Miya.”

He paused a moment, then undid his sword belt and handed it to his daughter. “I hope you never have to use it, but if you do … well, it’s served me well over the years. Especially in my younger days. I think you’re just tall enough for it now, so … wear it proudly, Miya.”

Miya stared at her father, then shook her head. “I … I can’t, it’s your sword. Your sword.”

“Your sword now. Don’t worry, I have others. And you … well, you know.”

Miya nodded, her eyes bright. She hugged her father tightly, then took the belt from him. She wasn’t wearing her own sword belt, this being a formal occasion and thus more of a ‘princess’ than a ‘pirate’ event, so she buckled it on then and there.

“It’s, um, a little big,” she said, laughing. It just fit her on the tightest loop, a long length of belt poking through the buckle. Despite this it felt right, the weight at her side reassuring. She drew the sword to show it off–it was, as her father never missed an opportunity to point out, a royal Amician straight sabre, slightly old-fashioned and plain but in excellent condition, the blade straight and untarnished, its edge fine and sharp. The sword’s hilt was black sharkskin, with a narrow, elegantly curved guard. On the front of this guard was the sword’s only decoration; a small engraving of a three-leaf clover.

“I think Uncle Lars is next,” said Tomas, as Miya gazed at the sword. “Lars?”

“Yes,” said Lars, walking to the Black family table and standing before Miya as she somewhat reluctantly sheathed her sword. “I asked to myself, what is the princess going to do when her grip fails her and she is left without weapon? And so I answered to myself, make sure she has another weapon. It’s a knife. A bloody sharp one, too.”

“Language,” said Miya, smiling as she accepted the gift. She pulled the knife from the sheath and inspected it, testing it lightly with her thumb. “Wow, it is sharp.”

“Perhaps you could use it to trim that belt a little,” said Lars. Miya shook her head.

“I already got used to it,” she said. “I kind of like it, even. Thank you for the present, Uncle Lars.”

Lars grinned and gave Miya a short, slightly awkward hug, then shuffled away from the family table and back to his seat.

“I can’t say I entirely approve, Lars. At least the sword has some decorative value,” said Queen Lilith, drawing some laughter. “Well, perhaps we could present our joint present now. Tomas?”

“Yes. Miya, this is from your mother and I.”

Miya took the long black leather case and opened it, her eyes widening as she looked inside.

“A spyglass?” she said, taking it out. “It’s beautiful.”

It was made of black leather and polished brass, the lens clear and sparkling in the afternoon light. Miya extended it carefully, put it to her eye, and gasped.

“It’s so clear! How far away am I seeing? It seems like miles!”

Her mother and father exchanged looks, both smiling. “We thought you’d like it,” said Tomas. “It’s a new type, much more effective than the ones we’re all stuck using.”

“It’s amazing, I can see so far–this’ll be great when I’m out on the Swan, thanks Mum, Dad,” Miya said, lowering the spyglass and embracing them.

“Well,” said Lilith. “I think that’s all the presents–”

“If I could?”

All eyes turned to Sola as he stood and spoke.

“I would … if it would not cause offence, I would also like to give my … to give Miya a gift,” he said.

“Of course,” said Queen Lilith. “Go ahead, Sola.”

Sola bowed to the crowd a little awkwardly, then turned to Miya.

“It’s something of my home,” he said, then he knelt, slapped his chest, and held his hand out, palm up, upon it a small shell, about an inch long, coloured a shimmering blue and green.

“Oh, pretty,” said Miya, then she remembered herself. “Thank you for the gift, Sola,” she said, taking the shell. She noticed it had a small hole at one end.

“For a necklace or bracelet,” explained Sola.

“Thank you,” said Miya. “I … thank you.”

“This seems as good a time as any to explain Sola’s presence here,” said Queen Lilith. Miya sat down. She’d almost forgotten about the reason for Sola being there, but her mother’s words brought her back to reality. “You know that Sola is a guest of our island, but the reason he came here is, unfortunately, not pleasant. Ten days ago Sola’s village was destroyed by a vile pirate who calls himself Badger Pete. As far as we know, the rest of his tribe has been enslaved.”

There were murmurs and raised voices in the crowd, which Queen Lilith silenced by raising her hand.

“We have pledged our support to Tonfa-Tonfa. We have a duty to our neighbours, I think you will agree.” Queen Lilith looked at Sola, then back at the crowd. “However. The safety of Clover Island must come first. We do not know what Badger Pete’s intentions are, but rest assured that our home will be protected.”

Miya looked sharply up at her mother. “Mum,” she said, her voice low.

“We have not yet decided how we will respond to Badger Pete’s attack. But Clover Island will never go unprotected. We will help our neighbours. But not at the cost of our own safety.”

As Queen Lilith continued talking Miya looked to her father, who shook his head just slightly, his expression one of forced calm. Although at times Miya found her father impossible to read, this time she had no trouble at all.

He was furious.

“–bigger than one island, Lilith, and the longer we let this go on the–”

“We have a responsibility to our people, above all else–”

“Our responsibility here is to help those who need it. For goodness sake, we’ve got the only decent-sized navy in the archipelago, most of these islands have never even considered defence against the sea, this part of the world wasn’t touched by the war–”

“But we were. We know–”

“Exactly! So how–”

“I will do what is necessary to protect this island and the people upon it.”

“But these people … they need our help, Lee. Who else will, if we don’t?”

“And who will help us, if we need it? Who is there to come to our rescue, should our navy be destroyed?”

Miya couldn’t stand to hear any more. Blinking back tears, she crept away from the door to her parent’s bedroom and went quietly downstairs, out the back door, into the night. The moon shone full and bright above, lighting her way as walked through her mother’s vegetable garden and her father’s flower garden. She walked to the cliff that overlooked Blackport and looked down, at the quiet, pretty little town that had been there her whole life, that had grown alongside her. When she was born there were barely a hundred people living on Clover Island, now there were over a thousand. It had become a symbol, of sorts, in its short existence. Clover Island was a place for second chances, for fresh starts, where your past was your own, to share as you saw fit. Where you could see the results of your own hard work, and live freely so long as you did no harm to others. The people of the island were kind and generous, open to new ideas and new people. Miya sniffed, trying to imagine what it would be like to lose the island, to lose the town below, the people she’d grown up with and lived with.

“I’d do anything,” she said to herself, her voice quiet but fierce. “I’d do anything to stop that. I’d fight anyone. I’d sail anywhere. I’d … I’d attend any ball.”

Miya looked up at the moon.

“What do I do?” she asked. “What on earth can I do?”

A small sound suddenly caught her attention, and she drew her sword–her new sword, her father’s sword. She looked around, searching the darkness, scanning the shadows cast by moonlight, looking for anything out of place.

“I’m sorry,” a deep voice came from behind her. Miya gave a little yelp and spun around to see Sola, standing just a few metres away. She scowled at him.

“Don’t sneak up on me,” she snapped, sheathing her sword.

“I’m sorry,” Sola repeated. “I didn’t mean to startle you. You couldn’t sleep?”

“No, I … well, yes, I suppose so,” said Miya.

“I thought that tonight I would sleep as I never slept before, but instead I find myself more awake than I have ever been,” said Sola. Miya was silent. They both looked out at the town below and the ocean beyond that, and the bright moon and the thousands of stars in the clear night sky.

“Do you find it strange, having a brother suddenly?” Sola asked, after a minute of silence.

“Um, yeah, kind of. How about you? Having a sister suddenly, I mean.”

“Yes. I have had time to accept who my father is, but to have a sister is unexpected.”

Sola paused for a moment, thinking.

“How do brothers act towards their sisters here?” he asked.

Miya thought of Penny’s little brother, Bradley, and the constant torment he subjected her to.

“Generally brothers are very respectful of their sisters, and always listen to them thoughtfully, and do their best to make them happy,” she lied. Sola nodded.

“I will try to be a good brother,” he said. Miya glanced at him sideways.

“Are you always so serious?” she asked.

“These are serious times.”

“I know,” Miya said, with a sigh. “I wish I could do something.”

“So do I,” said Sola.

They looked out at the view for a few moments.

“Before you came out here I was trying to imagine what … how I’d feel if, y’know, if something happened to Clover Island.”

Sola nodded. Miya bit her lip, then looked at him.

“Sola … we’re going to get him. Badger Pete, I mean. I don’t know how, or when, or … or anything, but I know we’re going to get him. And we’ll rescue your people, and help rebuild your village. Uh, if you want help. You might have it set out how you like it and not want other people interfering, I know I prefer to decorate my own cabin.”

Sola nodded again.

“Thank you,” he said. Miya smiled at him, then looked up at the moon.

“We’ll do something,” she said.

Next:

3
New Relations, Old Relations

LOVE LUST DECEIT ELECTRICITY
Short Fiction

A Sizzling Love Story

by

VIKRAM KARVE

There is a saying: “ If you decide to murder your husband you must never act in concert with your lover ”.

That’s why I did not tell Raj.

Or involve him in any way.

Not even the smallest hint.

I made my plans alone and with perfect care.

An “accident” so coolly and meticulously designed.

Precisely at 12:50 in the afternoon, the ghastly accident would occur.

And then my phone would ring – to convey the “bad” news.

And suddenly I would be a widow.

Free.

Liberated from shackles.

Released from bondage.

Then all I had to do was to keep cool, maintain a solemn façade, and patiently wait for Raj to return after completing his project in Singapore.
Then after the customary condolence period was over, Raj would propose to marry me – an act of chivalry, of sympathy, or even “self-sacrifice”.

First I would demur, then “reluctantly” succumb to the pressure from my friends and relatives, and accept – just for my children’s sake.

There would be nods of approval all around.

And soon Raj and I would be Husband and Wife.

The phone rang.

I panicked.

There is no fear like the fear of being found out.

I looked at the wall-clock. It was only 10.30 am.

Had something gone wrong?

I felt a tremor of trepidation.

The phone kept on ringing – it just wouldn’t stop ringing.

I picked up the receiver, and held it to my ears with bated breath.

The moment I heard Anjali’s voice I felt relieved.

“Why didn’t you come to the health club?” Anjali asked.

I’m not well,” I lied.

“Anything serious? Should I come over?” she asked.

“No!” I tried to control the anxiety in my voice. “It’s a just a slight headache. I’ll take a tablet and sleep it off,” I said cautiously.

“I hope Manish and you are coming over in the evening,” Anjali asked.

“Of course,” I said and put down the phone.

I smiled to myself.

That was one party Manish was going to miss. Probably they would cancel it and would be right here offering their condolences and sympathy.

I would have to be careful indeed.

And to hell with the health club and the painful weight loss program. I didn’t need it any more.

Raj accepts me as I am – nice and plump and on the “healthier” side, as he calls me lovingly.

Not like Manish who is always finding fault with me.

I know I can always depend on Raj.

He really loves me from the bottom of his heart.

I looked at my husband Manish’s framed photograph on the mantelpiece.

Soon it would be garlanded.

My marriage to Manish had been a miserable mistake, but soon it would be over and I would be free to live the life I always wanted.

I wish I didn’t have to kill Manish, but there was no way out – Manish would never give me a divorce, and if he came to know about me and Raj, he would destroy both of us, ruin our lives; for he was a rich and powerful man.

Also, I prefer to be a pitied widow rather than a stigmatized divorcee.

The plan was simple.

I had programmed a Robot to do the job.

The huge giant welding robot in Manish’s factory.

At exactly 12:45, when the lunch-break started, Manish would enter his pen drive into the robot control computer to carry out a maintenance troubleshooting check.

And then he would start inspecting various parts of the robot – the manipulator, end effectors and grippers – to cross-check their programmed movements.

It was a routine exercise, and I knew Manish had become quite complacent as the robot had never developed any faults so far.

But today it would be different.

Because I had surreptitiously reprogrammed the software last night.

This is what was going to happen.

At precisely 12:50 all safety interlocks would be bypassed, and suddenly the robot would activate and the welding electrode would arc 600 Amperes of electric current into Manish’s brain.

It would be a ghastly sight – his brain welded out and his body handing like a pendulum, lifeless. Death would be instantaneous.

Manish had been a fool to tell me everything and dig his own grave. A real dope – he deserved it!

It was a foolproof plan and no one would suspect since the program would erase itself immediately. I had ensured that. It would be an accident, an unfortunate accident.

Condolences, compensation, insurance – soon I would be a rich widow, with one and all showering me with sympathy and compassion.

And then I would wait for Raj to come back from Singapore.

And then, after a few days I knew he would propose to me, and I would ‘reluctantly’ accept and we would live happily ever after.

I looked at the wall clock. It was almost 11 O’clock.

Suddenly I began to have second thoughts. Maybe I should give Manish a last chance.

All I had to do was pick up the phone and ask Manish to rush home.

Feign a sudden illness or something.

But no! I tried to steel my nerves. I had crossed the Rubicon, and there was no going back. The tension of waiting was unbearable, but I must not lose my head.

I tried to divert my thoughts to Raj.

The first time I suspected that Raj loved me was when he didn’t attend my wedding. Then he disappeared abroad for higher studies and I almost forgot him. And one fine day, after almost fifteen years, Raj suddenly reappeared to take up a job in my husband’s factory.

And when I learnt that Raj had still not married I realized how deeply in love with me he was.

At that point of time I was so disillusioned with my marriage that my daily life was rather like sitting in a cinema and watching a film in which I was not interested.

Raj and I began spending more and more time together, and somewhere down the line emotions got entangled and physical intimacy followed.

Did Manish suspect?

I do not know.

Was that the reason he had sent Raj to Singapore?

I don’t think so.

We had kept our affair absolutely clandestine.

I looked again at the clock.

11.45 am.

One hour to go.

I began to have a feeling of dread and uneasiness, a sort of restlessness and apprehension – a queer sensation, a nameless type of fear.

So I poured myself a stiff drink of gin.

As I sipped the alcohol, my nerves calmed down.

Today was the last time I was going to have a drink, I promised myself.

Once I married Raj I would never drink – there would be no need to.

In my mind’s eye I could almost visualize my husband Manish sitting in the vacant chair opposite getting steadily drunk every evening.

Manish was an odd creature with effeminate mannerisms that became more pronounced when he was drunk.

He was always picking at an absurd little moustache, as though amazed at himself for having produced anything so virile.

How I hated the mere sight of him.

The very thought of my husband made me gulp down my drink.

I poured myself one more drink and gulped it quickly to steady my nerves. Then I had one more drink; and one more, when my cell-phone rang.

I shook out of my stupor and picked up my mobile phone. It was an unknown number. I rejected the call.

The cell phone rang again; same number. I looked at the number. 65….. – it was from Singapore.

Was it Raj? From Singapore? My heart skipped a beat. I answered urgently.

“Hello,” I said.

“Hi Urvashi, how are you?” it was Raj’s voice.

“Where are you speaking from? Is this your new number?” I asked.

“No. This is Rajashree’s cell-phone,” Raj said.

“Rajashree?”

“Yes, Rajashree, she wants to talk to you,” Raj said.

“Hi Urvashi,” a female voice said, “Raj has told me so much about you.”

It was strange.

Who was this Rajashree?

I knew nothing about her!

So I said, “But Raj has told me nothing about you!”

“I know,” Rajashree said, “it all happened so suddenly. Even I can’t believe it could happen so fast – Love at first sight, whirlwind romance, swift wedding.”

“Wedding?” I stammered, shocked beyond belief.

“Yes. We, Raj and I, got married yesterday and we are on our way to our honeymoon, on a cruise liner.”

“You bitch! Give the phone to Raj,” I shouted, losing control, the ground slipping beneath me.

“Hey, chill out. What’s wrong with you?” Rajashree said calmly, paused for a moment, and spoke, “Raj has gone to the embarkation booth. Hey, he’s waving to me. I’ve got to go now. Bye. We’ll see you when we come there.” And suddenly she disconnected.

I stared at my cell-phone, never so frightened, never so alone.

I felt as if I had been pole-axed.

I looked at the wall-clock.

12.55.

Oh, My God!

The deadline of 12.50 had gone.

It was too late.

My blood froze.

The telephone rang.

I picked it up, my hands trembling.

“There’s been an accident, madam,” said the voice. It was the company doctor. “We are rushing Manish Sahib to the hospital. I am sending someone to pick you up.”

“Hospital? Tell me the truth,” I shouted hysterically into the phone, “Tell me, is he dead?”
“No. He’ll survive.”

Manish did survive.

I wish he hadn’t.

For his sake. And for mine.

For till this day he is still in coma.

And I know I will have to live with a ‘vegetable’ husband all my life.

It was a small miscalculation.

600 Amperes wasn’t enough.

But then the Robot is a machine.

My real miscalculation was about Raj.

LOVE LUST DECEIT ELECTRICITY

Short Fiction

A Sizzling Love Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2009

Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
vikramkarve@sify.com

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

Het leven als backpacker klinkt erg aantrekkelijk; (tijdelijk) geen verantwoordelijkheden als een baan of studie, mooie plekken bezoeken, nieuwe mensen ontmoeten, veel feesten, noem maar op. Australie is al jaren een populaire bestemming voor deze bezigheid en dat is goed te merken. Met de oostkust als de meest bekende route ben je niets nieuws met het reizen langs plekken als Cairns, Whitsunday Islands, Fraser Island, Surfers Paradise en Byron Bay. Je bent dan ook zeker niet alleen. Iedere stad die zich op de backpackerskaart heeft geplaatst is ruim uitgerust met hostels en travel agencies (het, als de vanzelfsprekende, bijbehorende bruisende uitgaansleven is dan vaak wel afwezig). En als je dan toch met 9 andere op een kamer slaapt (niet bevordelijk voor de lucht, al helemaal niet in de warme maanden van het jaar) kan je net zo goed even vragen waar de anderen vandaan komen en of ze naar het noorden (Cairns) of naar het zuiden (Brisbane, Sydney, of Melbourne/Adelaide voor de overachievers) gaan. Want zo het is. Route du Backpackers in Australie kent die twee opties: north bound en south bound. Letterlijk en figuurlijk is deze reis al geasfalteerd, afwijken is niet mogelijk, en samengestelde excursies naar de ’sights’ worden als ‘koek en zoopie’ langs de weg aangeboden.
Op deze route kom je de volgende dingen tegen. Hordes Duitse jongeren, en dan niet verbaasd zijn als ze 18 en 19 jaar oud zijn. Ik geloof dat Duitsland op dit moment een complete generatie jongeren mist, zoveel zijn het er. (Is dan wel weer goed voor me Duits, al luister ik liever alleen dan dat ik hele gesprekken met ze aanga.) Daarnaast is er nog een club Sjonnies; de Britten en Ieren samen. Deze zijn makkelijk te herkennen; tattoos bedekken veel huid, armen, benen, buik en rug en het liefst een combi van meerdere. De artistieke inhoud van de permanente inktpatronen is mij een raadsel. Enkele hebben bekend hun tattoo te hebben gezet tijdens een avondje stappen, wat voor mij al een hoop verklaard. Britten en Ieren kunnen zuipen, als geen ander! Zijn het niet de tattoos dan zijn het wel de teksten op shirts die je hier tegenkomt die je doen fronzen. “If I’m not wasted the day is” is daar een voorbeeld van. Het niveau is hiermee ook duidelijk gezet.
Het leven in hostels is ook een apart verhaal. Om de zoveel dagen, die vaak op 1 hand te tellen zijn, pak je je tas weer in en is het verkassen naar een andere plek. Met een beetje mazzel heb je voor een redelijke prijs een redelijke kamer en leuke/relaxte ‘roommates’. Andere keren betaal je de hoofdprijs op meerdere manieren; hoge kosten, slecht matras met bed bugs (soort van luizen die overal zitten (inclusief je tas en kleren) en gemeen bijten), een dozijn vreemden op je kamer, inclusief een hard snurkende dronklap die je urenlang wakker houdt. Het verhaal van de jongen die boven mij sliep (alle hostels hebben stapelbedden) en midden in de nacht even lekker midden in de kamer ging plassen (te dronken om de toiletten te vinden) zal ik jullie besparen (was overigens erg blij dat ie niet gewoon in zijn bed plaste aangezien ik eronder lag). Het verhaal in de poepende backpacker (pontivicaal voor de deur, is lekker handig, smeert lekker uit als de deur open en dicht gaat) heb ik bij deze dus ook niet verteld (dit is overigens een van horen zeggen verhaal). Of luidruchtig sexende backpackers, ook altijd fijn. Of je eten dat telkens gestolen wordt, altijd handig als je honger hebt.
Daarnaast zijn de plekken langs de oostkust heel divers. Van lange witten stranden, lekker weer, palmbomen en backpackers op het vaste land tot witte stranden in kleine baaitjes, lekker weer, palmbomen en backpackers. Tja, het ene paradijs is het andere nog niet. Diagnose: reizigerseuforie
Maar tijdens het reizen ontmoet je ook leuke mensen, krijg je handige tips en zie je veel mooie dingen. Zo was ik samen met Jenny (het Duitse meisje waarmee ik in Alice Springs was en ook in Cairns heb gezien) een paar dagen op Magnetic Island, een van die paradijsjes. (Geen fuck te doen hoor, net als in alle andere kleine plaatsen in Australie.) We hebben lekker een autootje gehuurd en zijn het ‘heule eiland’ overgecrossd (duurt ongeveer 10 minuten). Aan het einde van de tweede dag kwamen we twee Nederlandse jongens tegen met wie we veel zijn opgetrokken in de week die volgde. We zijn met hen, Tim en Peter, in hun auto meegereden naar Airlie Beach, het havenstadje om de Whitsunday Islands te bezoeken. Ieder had toch wel een beetje een eigen programma en wensen, maar we konden goed overweg. Helaas waren veel bootreisjes volgeboekt vanwege de feestende eindexamenscholieren (’schoolies’) en moesten we wat geduld hebben voordat we onze wensen konden vervullen. Tja, en wat doen je als je in het paradijs moet wachten? Niksen aan het zwembad en genieten van die palmbomen. Na een week relaxen, goede gesprekken, verhalen met het woord ’smoetsig’ als stopwoord, foute en flauwe grappen kwam ook die tijd tot een einde. Jenny, Tim en Peter zijn inmiddels door naar hun volgende bestemmingen; ik wacht nog 1 dagje op mijn boot. Morgen ga ik lekker 3 dagen zeilen langs de Whitsunday Islands, 74 eilandjes met, je raadt het al, witte stranden, lekker week, palmbomen en…. Lang leve de variatie tijdens het reizen.

-DongSongNho-
Ngày 06.11.09

Not only are dogs being trained to search for bombs and illegal drugs, some are also being trained to detect bed bugs in hotel rooms.

We just caught this story on CBC about a dog trainer in Prince Edward Island who has been training his dog to hunt for bed bugs. Duke Ferguson of K9 Unleashed Potential, hopes to sell his services to hotels that have the insightful problem with bed bugs.

With the reduction in the use of chemical pesticides, bed bugs are making a ‘comeback’ in hotels across North America.

Because they are difficult to see,  bed bugs are also quite hard to get rid of. And they don’t just hide in the mattress either, they also lurk in the couch, electrical sockets, walls, baseboards-pretty much anywhere they can hide. And while they don’t carry disease and are fairly harmless (for the most part), they are still considerably unpleasant.

Not surprisingly, hotels are concerned about keeping their rooms clean and bed bug-free. There are several dog trainers and companies now offering canine bed bug detection to help hotels out with this pesky problem.

According to  thebedbugdog.net, detecting bed bugs is fairly labour- intensive. A trained inspector will often detect  bed bugs in a room with an accuracy rate of only about 30%. Since bed bugs can also hide in walls and baseboards, and other small places humans aren’t able to go into, they sometimes miss all the little critters. A trained dog, however can search for bed bugs even withing walls due to their  powerful smell.

As a result, a trained canine detective has a much higher accuracy at finding bed bugs, often as high as 90%. They can also find them quickly, most dogs can search a hotel room in under 2 minutes…(read more)

So why are dogs able to sniff out bedbugs anyway? We read on Bedbugdog.com that all a dog needs is a single drop of urine to learn the marking animal’s sex, diet, health, emotional state, and even whether it’s dominant or submissive. The dog follows the ‘biochemical’ trail of dead skin cells, sweat, and odour. And they can also track a scent through water, mud, air, and snow. In the U.S, a properly trained detection dog is now recognized in court as a scientific instrument.

Considering hiring a company that offers this service? Take a look at Bed Bugs 101-Canine Scent Detection for more info.

“Seventy-five, eighty, ninety and a dollar. Thank you, and come again.”

“You’re really getting the hang of that.”

OJ smiled at his co-worker. “I’ve been watching old cartoons for practice.”

“Huh?”

“Um … never mind.”

The few seconds of silence that followed this stretched into an awkward minute.

“Anyway,” said OJ. Oh my goodness I don’t have anything to follow that up with just say anything, anything, ANYTHING FOR GOODNESS SAKE ANYTHING WHAT WOULD APPLES SAY? “Did you know that if you mix raspberry jelly and Blue Hawaii jelly–” NO NOT THAT WHAT ARE YOU CRAZY?

Hannah smiled at OJ politely. “Yes?”

“I … uh …”

“What flavour IS ‘Blue Hawaii’, anyway?” she wondered. “I know it has that certain taste but what is that? It’s not anything like blueberry–”

“Oh! Oh I know this!” OJ cried. “It’s a cocktail! I mean,” he said, suddenly aware of how unbelievably dorkish he was allowing himself to sound, “originally a Blue Hawaii was a cocktail, the flavour of which … was …” oh no oh help I’ve forgotten how to grammar “… becoming popular as drink. And for snowcones.”

“I love snowcones,” Hannah said. “I haven’t had one for a long time though, there’s nowhere–oh, Moxie! Moxie, did you know–”

“Cocktails. Yeah. Pretty cool.”

OJ watched Moxie for a moment as she refolded a couple of t-shirts–from his section, he noticed with a sudden pang.

“My, um, my sister loves snowcones too,” he said, dragging his attention back to Hannah. “Her favourite flavour is, uh, ‘everything’. I don’t mean like ‘any flavour’, I mean EVERY flavour, all mixed together. It kind of tastes like diabetes.”

Hannah laughed. “Your sister sounds cute, you should bring her into the shop sometime.”

“Aha, no, that’d be bad, that’d be so, so bad, she’s really … I mean, she’s great, of course, she’s my sister and I, um, tolerate her quite well, I think, but bringing her here … it’s not that I don’t want her to meet you or, um, Moxie, but I just think? I really just think? There should be some separation. In life. In your life. Not, um, not ‘your life’, like ‘Hannah’s life’, I just meant generally, like anyone’s life, or ‘Moxie’s life’, or … well, ‘my life’, I don’t want Apples to come here because she’s, um, it’s just better if she’s not here. Ever.”

Hannah hummed a little bit, then raised her head suddenly.

“Oh, that reminds me, I should go check the stuff in the back. You can handle things out here, right OJ?”

“Mmmph.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

Hannah disappeared out the back. OJ stared after her for a moment, then collapsed onto the shop counter, his face buried in his hands with a quiet ohgodwhatdidIjustsay?

“Quiet today.”

“I wish,” OJ mumbled into the counter. He peeled his face off it and looked up at Moxie. “I don’t like her, you know.”

Moxie nodded, her lips slightly pursed. “Yeah.”

“I really don’t–I mean she’s okay, I don’t hate her, I don’t dislike her, I just … can’t talk to her.”

Moxie nodded again. “We’ve all got our own ways of dealing with normals.”

“Huh?”

Moxie was already walking away, with that kind of lilting I-don’t-care-how-I-walk swagger of hers, off to rearrange the sheet music display.

*

“I can’t believe we fell for that. The old ‘look, a bus!’ routine. Granted, something of a twist given that the bus in question was dancing–”

“And really well, too, I wouldn’t expect a bus to be so graceful, it’s said that buses are the ‘cows of the road’ and I agree, they’re really–”

“Wait,” said Dorothee. She squinted at Apples. “What do you mean ‘it’s said’, who says that?”

“Well, I did, just then, so technically it’s true. Anyway, pass me those Blue Packers, I’m-a hungry!”

Dorothee passed the cereal over. Apples happily shook some into a bowl then added milk.

“I love their little smiles,” she said, before crunching into her first mouthful. “Even if the crunchcrunchcrunch square eyes are kind of a bit crunchcrunch creepy sometimes.”

“In some ways you and your brother are remarkable similar,” said Dorothee. “But focus for a second, Apples. I don’t think it’s coincidence that we shared a dream last night and that David Bowie just happened to be passing through. Something’s up.”

“Adventure?”

“No, just suspicion.”

“Suspicion LEADING to adventure?”

“Right now it’s just general suspicion not really leading anywhere.”

“General Suspicion!” said Apples, saluting smartly before returning her attention to the brightly coloured cereal. Dorothee watched Apples half-slurp, half-crunch her way through another spoonful of the stuff before speaking again:

“Do you feel bad about not getting up to see OJ off? I kind of think he would’ve liked it.”

“He’s a guy, they don’t care about that stuff,” said Apples.

“He’s pretty sensitive, though.”

“That’s true. But it’s not like it’s a special day or anything.”

“He’s got that new manager girl to deal with, though, he might need support.”

“Oh, you mean Hannah Redivider?”

“You don’t have to say her full name every time, Apples.”

“But it’s so awesomely palindromagical!”

“That’s not a real word, Apples.”

“Hey, don’t you think it’s weird that ‘palindrome’ spelled backwards is, um … emor … dnilap? I’m fairly certain you couldn’t get LESS palindromical if you tried. It should be … um … ‘palininap’. Palililila … palinila … palinilli … palli … pala … pa … p. Help Dorothee help.”

“Were you trying for ‘palinilap’?” Dorothee asked, secretly immensely relieved to have said it correctly.

“Yeah! Exactly! Panilima … panilivanilli … panil–”

“I’m going to have to stop you there, Apples.”

“Phew. Thank goodness. I’m starting to see why it’s just ‘palindrome’.”

“How about ‘palap’?” Dorothee suggested. “That’s pretty simple.”

“That sounds WAY too much like that word I hate,” Apples said, making a face.

“What, ‘heinous’?”

“Yick! No! The other one!”

“Um … ’skeeve’?”

“Argh! Doro!”

“So you mean–”

“Change of subject, change of subject!”

“Well, we were talking about OJ–”

“No, do it properly, Doro, please?”

Dorothee sighed, then got up from the table and went to a small wooden box on the wall, from which she pulled out an envelope marked ‘Emergency Change of Subject’ and a tiny knife. Using said tiny knife, Dorothee slit open the envelope and from it pulled a small green slip of paper.

“What’s it say? What’s it say?”

Dorothee stood there, looking at the piece of paper.

“Apples,” she said, “this is a coupon for half-price mini golf.”

“Oh! Which mini golf place?”

” ‘Captain No-Beard’s Crystal Cove’. It’s that pirate-themed one in Parapaparaparapa.”

Apples beamed.

“And thus the problem of ‘what to do today’ was officially solved!”

*

“–but really, if you’re gonna start anywhere with DyCha, it’s gotta be Fury White and the Pioneering Spirits. Sure, Nightmare of the Forever Ratio has some really good songs on it and it’s probably more cohesive, if you want to listen to one of her albums start to finish then that’s probably the best, and The Princess and The Pod Police has, yeah, The Big Goodbye and Pressure Sleeve, but DD is just … every song on it is good, some are great–I mean you’ve got Heart Worm, Luscious Wolf, The Other Song, Occasional Rainy Day just to start with–and it’s really the album where she first let herself go, I mean really started showing who she was. Did you ever see the interview where she said who Luscious Wolf was about? Wow, the passion … I was like ten when I saw that and I still completely got what she was talking about, and THAT is what makes her a genius. She uses these simple little words in ways you never even thought they could be used, she doesn’t break rules, she invents them–”

OJ watched Moxie talking with the customer while pretending to wipe down the counter.

“Oh, wiping down the counter? Thanks, those customers can be pretty sticky.”

“Um … um, yes,” said OJ, switching from ‘pretending’ to ‘actually’. Hannah smiled as she followed his gaze.

“She’s really different when she starts talking about music stuff.”

OJ nodded. “It’s, um, it’s kind of like she saves herself up for it.”

“Huh?”

“Uh … uh, nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

OJ grimaced, just slightly. “Uh, just like … she’s pretty quiet and, um, like cool normally, I don’t know, all just … being herself. Then when it’s something she’s interested in, she like … opens.”

“Oh … yes. I understand.”

They watched Moxie for a moment.

“–if you like Ex Parte McCardle then you definitely have to check out Syncrophasatron. This Is Reportedly True is like the sequel to And Of Life, if you get what I mean–”

“She’s good for the business, anyway,” said Hannah. “Whenever she talks to anyone they always end up with a lot more than they came in for. Especially the guys.”

“Uh, um, uh, I, uh, um, yeah.”

“Oh, could you go clean up the headphones? I know it’s not really your job but–”

“No, that’s, um, that’s fine. I’ll go do it now, the cleaning stuff’s in the back, right? Okay. B-bye.”

OJ clenched his teeth as he went into the back room.

*

Apples and Dorothee sat outside the little shop by the mini golf course, eating ice cream.

“I think I like playing with you more than with Toad and Vin,” Apples said. “Because you always win and you always have money for the winner’s forfeit.”

“I don’t always win. More like … wait, actually you may be right. Huh. It’s not like I’m even that good at mini golf–”

“I think maybe it’s because you take it seriously and I always just have fun?”

Dorothee frowned at her ice cream before taking an aggressive lick.

“This is one of those things where even though I won, I lost, isn’t it?” she said.

“Huh? No, you definitely won Doro, I have the scorecard right here. Apples 78, Dorothee 32. That’s pretty decisive.” Apples sucked a gumdrop from her ice cream. “You know I go through phases of liking different ice cream flavours, but really Goody Goody Gum Drops is pretty much the best thing ever invented.”

“I like Hokey Pokey,” said Dorothee.

“You say that but actually you would’ve been happier with GiGiGi-D. Or Cookies and Cream, that’s also sooooo good–and I’m not dissing Hokey Pokey, definitely not, I mean I bought seventeen tubs of it in my Ice Cream Rush but really, if you’re going out for ice cream …” Apples trailed off, a thoughtful expression on her face. She took an attentive lick of her ice cream. “Well, even just vanilla is nice to get sometimes, really ANY ice cream is pretty great, every time I have one I feel pretty thankful that it was invented, but just getting Hokey Pokey every time–”

“You’re right,” said Dorothee.

“Wow, I am?”

“I would’ve preferred Goody Goody Gum Drops. Or Cookies and Cream, or Rainbow Explosion or Crunky Crunky Go Monkey or Paradise Fruits. But Hokey Pokey just seems like the ‘adult’ option. The kind of ice cream a grown-up should have. And winning at mini golf, does that really matter when I had about a tenth as much fun as you did?”

“Well, even a tenth of the fun I had must be pretty good,” said Apples, licking around the cone of her ice cream to stop it from dripping onto her hand. “Because I had at least thirteen GigaCarnivals of fun today.”

“Even given that one-point-three GigaCarnivals of fun is pretty good, I feel like I’m missing out. How do you have so much fun?”

“I don’t know, I just enjoy everything.”

“But HOW?”

“Ummmm … some? Somehow? I don’t know, Doro, it’s a tough question! I just do fun stuff, I guess, and I don’t think about other stuff while I’m doing it. Maybe it’s one of those ‘choice’ things?”

“You mean ‘a choice’?”

“It’s like when it’s raining, you can be all ‘o no rain how dreadful there is nothing lovely about rain’ or you can be like ‘o yay rain how cool I haven’t seen rain like this for ages and it’s good for the flowers and things and the roads will be all cool and reflective after it stops so we can go for a drive and look at all the cool reflections of lights on the streets’.”

Dorothee was silent for a few moments, then she licked at her ice cream delicately. After another moment she nodded, decisively.

“I’ve decided,” she said. “I’ve decided what I’m going to do now.”

“Oh cooooool, what is it?”

“I’m going to take another holiday,” said Dorothee. “I’m going to live my life Apples-style.”

*

“Oh, OJ, cool.”

OJ looked up from the box he was rummaging through and managed a slightly manic grin.

“I, um … I don’t seem to be able to find the cleaning stuff,” he said. Moxie nodded sagely, then went to stand beside him, reaching past to tap a spray bottle.

“Oh,” said OJ. “Um. I can’t believe I missed that.”

Moxie shrugged. “The cleaning stuff goes invisible at certain angles. There’s kind of a knack to seeing it.”

OJ moved his head to look at the spray bottle from a couple of different angles.

“Huh,” he said. “Neat.”

“Yeah, isn’t it?”

Moxie walked past OJ to one of the back shelves, reaching up for a high box.

“Oh, uh, I can get that,” OJ said. Moxie glanced back at him, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, okay,” she said, after a moment. He squeezed past and got the box down, then handed it to her with a shrug.

“Sorry you’re so short,” he said, immediately following this with, “oh gosh I can’t believe I actually said it like that.”

Moxie laughed as she searched through the box, not looking up. “It’s cool.”

“I mean, I don’t think it’s bad or anything, it’s pretty cool actually, I mean you use it well–no, that’s not what I wanted to say, I mean with your clothes, that like big leather jacket and … that skirt … the eye-patch … purple and black … scars …”

“Yeah, I know,” said Moxie, taking out a couple of CDs from the box and putting it back on a lower shelf. “Hannah’s getting wound up, you should get out there pretty soon or she’ll think you’re slacking. Either that or, y’know, something else.”

“I, um … hey, you were saying about Ex Parte McCardle before, right?”

Moxie perked up. “Yeah, aren’t they great? I mean their new stuff is kind of wishy-washy but And Of Life–”

“Yeah yeah, I love that one song Web Rings–”

“Fearlessly excellent,” Moxie stated, grinning wide. “Definitely my favourite on that album, I always thought it’d be great as like some kind of theme song for something, like a bright quirky video game where you have to collect stuff.”

OJ stared at Moxie for a moment. “Um,” he said.

“Anyway, I wasn’t kidding about Hannah, I mean it might be fun to watch her explode but you know it’d just be us two that’d have to clean it up.”

“That might not be so bad,” OJ managed. Moxie laughed again.

“Yeah, maybe. I gotta go restock anyway–hey, put Ex Parte on when you change the music, why don’t you? Then once Web Rings comes on let’s have a race to grab the most old price tags on the DVDs, we’ve gotta change them anyway.”

“Okay, yeah, that sounds, um, unbelievably fun.”

“Looking forward to it!”

OJ watched Moxie leave the little back room, then all-but collapsed against a nearby shelf.

“Complex!” he gasped.

*

Apples and Dorothee sat on the floor, staring at each other. After a minute, Dorothee cleared her throat.

“Um–”

“Silence, if you please!” cried Apples.

Dorothee was silent. Apples nodded, apparently satisfied, using her ’serious face’.

“I just–”

“Look,” said Apples, “if we’re going to do this we’re going to do it properly, okay? If I’m going to be your Wise Old Master then we have to start by focusing our thoughts and centreing ourselves.”

“But you’re supposed to be teaching me how to have fun, I don’t see how sitting on the floor staring at each other is supposed to be fun at all.”

Apples assumed what she probably thought was a ‘wise’ expression.

“When you can find the fun in sitting on the floor staring at each other, then you will be ready,” she said, wisely.

“Ready for what?”

“… ice cream?”

“Apples–”

“But actually I guess you’re right, this isn’t so fun. Let’s play a game!”

“Well, okay. Which–”

“Rockstar Maniac! I’m singing and doing guitar!”

“I’m not good at those music games–”

“This isn’t about being good,” Apples said, running around the lounge pushing chairs and couches out of the way and assembling the components of the game. “It’s about having fun, remember? Turn on the thing, okay? Oh! But we should get costumes first!”

“But you don’t need costumes to–”

“Since when has ‘need’ had anything to do with ‘fun’? Come on, I’m gonna wear a headband! You should put on a suit or something, like a cool suit jacket and a skirt.”

Half an hour later, Apples stood dressed in one of OJ’s old denim jackets, wearing red boots that were far too big for her and with seven belts buckled around her waist. Dorothee, meanwhile, had on a white suit jacket, a tie, a tiny black plastic top hat attached to her head by means of an elastic band, a long green gypsy skirt, and bare feet.

“I don’t really understand the bare feet part?”

“I just couldn’t think of any good shoes for you,” said Apples. “Anyway, hush! We have to think of a name for our band!”

“Do we–okay, let me think … how about ‘The Papples Experiment’?”

“Hmm … that’s not bad, but I think we can do better. What about ‘Dorothee Learns Fun’?”

“Mm. Maybe not.”

“Oh, I’ve got an idea,” Apples said, running to the computer that was humming away in the corner. “It’s a way to create a new band name, someone posted about it on my board, you just go to UkiUkipedia and use their ‘random article’ thing. You’re guaranteed to get a GREAT band name!”

“Okay, let’s try it then,” said Dorothee, joining Apples at the computer. “That does kind of sound fun.”

“Right? Okay, here we go. Are you ready?”

Dorothee nodded decisively. “I’m ready.”

“Let’s go then. Our new band name will be …”

Click.

” ‘Pylesville, Maryland’,” Dorothee read. She glanced at Apples. “Um, is that fun?”

“Let’s just call that a practice run,” Apples said, clicking the ‘random’ button again. ” ‘Human Advancement’. Huh. ‘Pippa Doll’ … well, maybe. ‘Eigenvalue Algorithm’. ‘WLJS-FM’. ‘List of Toronto Parks’, no. ‘H’its Huge ‘84′, what?”

“I’m not sure how ‘random’ it is if you just keep clicking until you find one that you like–”

“Okay fine so that wasn’t such a great idea. Let’s just call ourselves ‘The Doro Swings Both Ways’.”

“That makes it sound like I’m bisexual or something. How about ‘Apples And Doro Couldn’t Think of a Band Name’?”

“No, that’s way too meta to be really fun. Um, ‘The Key to Fun Town’.”

” ‘Nor Should There Be Apples’.”

” ‘Dorothee Gets Things Done’.”

” ‘Better Apples Inside’.”

” ‘Look Who’s Holding The Doro’.”

” ‘The Apples Theory’.”

” ‘Doro-Tea Time’.”

” ‘Moon Over, Apples!’.”

“Oh, nice,” said Apples, laughing. “Hey, we should do this properly, get some paper and crayons–”

“I thought we were playing a game?”

“Oh yeah … I kind of got caught up in ‘name fever’, okay so–”

“How about ‘Papples and the Doro Tree’?”

Apples stared at Dorothee, then pointed straight at her.

“That. Is. Perfect. Now we just have to make our characters look EXACTLY how we’re dressed and then we can play.”

“Having fun is a lot more work than I expected it to be.”

“Hush, you! I’m trying to figure out how to hack this game into letting me put seven belts on my character.”

“Maybe I’ll make a cup of tea while I wait.”

“As long as you do it in a fun way! And make me a Milo!” Apples called, as Dorothee went to the kitchen. “You can draw the face on my cup for me as a special treat!”

“What should I draw?”

“Something fun, of course!”

*

Meanwhile, in one of the Seven Nerd Lairs of Mayberry Free Arts College (Wellesley):

“Goodness, such an example of ‘programmer art’.”

“I don’t know, I think the Letas are pretty cute.”

“Hah. ‘Cute’. Is that what we are working towards here? ‘Cute’?”

“I don’t think it hurts, anyway–okay then, how about the tileset for the Deep Cave, as an example? I mean, for a procedurally generated location–”

“It could be argued, the success of that is more down to good design and programming than the tileset itself–”

“But it all fits together nicely, I mean there are a couple of special tiles in there that really tie the whole thing together, that one that covers up that little ‘two doors down’ bug alone–”

“When we’re surrounded by amazing artists, however, it seems almost a waste–”

“You know how most of them get, though.”

“… mm, you speak the truth. What about Apples, your friend? She’s easygoing, and at this kind of stuff she’s not bad. Doing the concept art and then going from there, if she’s not a great pixel artist even … she did those murals on the Great Eastern Toilet Blocks?”

“Yes, a surprising amount of the ‘untouchable’ stuff in Magical Clover Rainbow Dance Dance Dance room is hers too. If you can get her to focus on something she’s actually kind of amazing. I haven’t seen her around for ages, though, not since that whole Apples Party thing. Prinny might know where she is–”

“Prinny! Her also we should get on board–with computers she’s good, and also design–”

“She mostly does t-shirts and badges and stuff like that, but it’s true … and she and Apples are good together.”

“Then there’s no objection?”

“The only thing is, whenever Apples gets involved with something … I don’t know, it’s not like she means to do it, and she’s pretty much the complete opposite of a control freak, whatever that is, but she does tend to make projects snowball.”

“That might not be a bad thing, though. Let’s take a risk, why not?”

*

Star Lurker One-Oh-Nine
as made famous by Cindy Chapman
performed by Papples and the Doro Tree

Don’t Look Now, I’m right behind you
There’s another me standing
Still as–
(Doro, I want to be singing this, why are you singing?)

Because you gave me the microphone?
Anyway, it’s–oops–visiting someone else’s dreams
Listen because I’m telling you how
It happened again and again and again

When you dream of another Apples,
Why did you set this on ‘Expert’?
I’m not even very good at this game
When it’s on ‘Normal’

(Just try! It’s fun to try even if it’s really hard!)
Because there’s nothing else to do
I just–we’re in the red, Apples, we’re going
To lose, it’s going too fast

(It’s okay, the chorus is coming up, we can–oh.)

*

“How was that fun?”

“How was that NOT fun? That was great, Doro, let’s try again!”

“We didn’t even get a third through the song, why don’t we play on ‘Normal’ instead of ‘Expert’? Wouldn’t it be more fun to actually get through the whole song at least?”

“No! Doro, you’ve got to try to understand here, fun isn’t about ’success’. Fun is about enjoying yourself! If we wanted ’success’ or, like, ‘accomplishment’ then we’d borrow some of OJ’s guitars and stuff and write our own song … which actually probably would be kind of fun, but that’s not what I’m talking about right now, what I’m saying is that playing Rockstar Maniac on Expert is fun even when you lose! ESPECIALLY when you lose, even! And if you actually manage to finish a song then it’s much more satisfying than doing it on boring ol’ ‘Normal’. Huh. ‘Normal’. As if I’d ever pick that option, ever!”

“… well, I suppose it’s true that ‘Normal’ doesn’t seem very ‘Apples’.”

“Right? So, come on! That song might not be the best one for us to play anyway, it’s definitely not one of my favourite Cindy Chapman songs but it’s the only one on here … I guess because it’s one of her more normal ones. Anyway, how about … hm … Doro, you pick.”

“Me?”

Dorothee flicked through the song menu, searching for something she recognised. Apples, meanwhile, sipped at her lukewarm Milo. Her mug had a painstakingly drawn expression of rather orthodox ‘fun’ on it; cross-eyes and a tongue sticking out. About this Apples had made no comment.

“Maybe OJ’s right, maybe I don’t listen to enough music,” said Dorothee. “I just don’t–oh, I remember this song … okay, let’s do this one.”

“OJ used to like this one too,” said Apples, as the song loaded. She adjusted two of her belts. “That was aaaaaages ago though, like just aaaaaaages, like when I was eight or something.”

“Don’t make me feel old, Apples.”

“But anyway–oh, here we go. Ready, The Doro Tree?”

“Ready, Papples.”

Apples and Dorothee both struck poses.

“PAPPLES AND THE DORO TREE! ONE DORO TREE FOUR FIVE LET’S ROCK!”

*

“That’s cheating! That’s SO cheating!”

“Like the song says, ‘don’t stop now for bitter dark clouds; don’t stop now for all the sad things; do your love, do your love baby, it’s gonna be happy; it’s gonna be happy just grab at the web rings; don’t stop don’t stop you’re the reason; the every reason, the delight of life, the web rings’.”

Moxie paused. “Okay, good point,” she said. “I guess you won, then. We should’ve set up some kind of punishment game for the loser–too late now, though!”

“What! If you’d won you wouldn’t be saying that!”

Moxie scowled, surprising OJ. “Yeah, I would be,” she grumbled.

“I, um … sorry, I was just–”

“Hello, you two. What are you looking so red-faced and giggly about?”

“Oh, um, uh, we were, y’know–”

“Customer,” Moxie said, swaggering over to the young couple in the Pop Rock section. Hannah looked at OJ, an open, mildly expectant expression on her face.

“I, um. Hello,” said OJ.

“Hello,” said Hannah.

“I should probably put these tags in the back. Um, we’ve got to send them away, right? You said something like, uh, um, something like that earlier. I seem to r-recall. Then I might head home, it’s actually past my quitting time.”

Hannah nodded. “I was going to say something but you seemed to be having so much fun with Moxie–anyway, I think it’s great that you’re starting to fit in here.”

“I, um, maybe, I don’t know, um … yeah.”

OJ scuttled off, glancing at Moxie as he passed her.

“–Sophia Range is pretty good, I mean she’s not the sort of singer you’d ever call your favourite but if you’re having a dinner party or whatever–or even when you’re just cooking by yourself it’s nice to have some music, on, right? So, Sophia’s great for that kind of situation, just to put on soft in the background–The Redhead Had Been Right is perfect for that kind of thing–”

“She is good,” OJ muttered. “Can’t deny that.”

*

Dorothee’s expression was set, her mouth a tight line, her dark blue eyes focused on the screen. Her hands were cool and dry against the plastic of the guitar, and the step she took towards the microphone was both firm and deliberate.

“Goodbye sadness!” she sang. “An absence of come-what-may; how simple a thing; have a nice day.”

Apples played along on the drums. As best she could.

“I’m just standing here wondering where plastic and metal collide Apples-tighten-up-that-rhythm-you’re-putting-me-off who decided this would be the end?”

“No time for tightening, final chorus!” Apples cried, leaping up from the drums to join Dorothee at the microphone–

“GONNA KEEP ON DRILLING! IT’S A MAN’S ROMANCE, DRILL DRILL COME ON YEAH, KEEP ON DRILLING OKAY HERE WE GO NOW ALLLLLL NIIIIIIGHT LOOOOONG … DRILL PASSION!”

“We’re good! We’re really good!” Apples cried, as the on-screen fretboard exploded. “Doro, we got through the whole song!”

“That … that was fun!” Dorothee said, as their score came up. “We got three stars, is that a good score?”

“Who cares! We finished the song and we NAILED that final chorus and we had fun! Who cares how many stars we got? Let’s play another one, let’s try Star Lurker again!”

“Okay!”

“What on earth are you two dressed up like that for?”

Apples and Dorothee looked back from where they were playing to see OJ standing in the entrance to the lounge. He didn’t exactly look impressed.

“We’re having fun!” said Dorothee. “Um. I mean, I’m trying something.”

“Come and join, OJ! We’ll change the name of the band to include you, we can be ‘Papples, Oranges and the Doro Tree’!”

“You can’t change a band name in that game after you’ve entered it,” OJ muttered, as he threw his wallet and keys into the waiting arms of a carved wooden mole-bat. “Besides,” he called out as he walked into the kitchen, “I’ve been doing music stuff all day, I’m not in the mood for more now I’m home.”

“Doro,” Apples whispered, leaning close to her friend. “That’s a really good example of how NOT to have fun.”

“I think we should stop now anyway, Apples. It was a fun afternoon but it’s probably time to settle down and be sensible for a while.”

“Sensible! That doesn’t sound fun at all!”

“OJ’s been working hard while we’ve been goofing around, Apples. We should be nice to him.”

“Curses,” Apples muttered. “That’s really mature and reasonable, why you gotta make so much sense, D-Dog?”

“I’m just awesome like that,” said Dorothee. “Come on, take off those belts and let’s pack up before he finishes making his sandwich.”

“Oh! Sandwich! OJ–”

Apples was cut off by Dorothee grabbing her and putting her hand over her mouth.

“I think that at this point in time it would be better if you made your own peanut butter, chocolate hail and chocolate sauce sandwich, Apples,” she said quietly. “In fact, we should have offered to make OJ’s–”

“No,” said Apples, struggling free. “Because he has his own technique, he makes the BEST ChocoChocoP-B sandwiches in the world. I keep telling him he could open a shop–”

“I don’t think there’s the demand for this kind of sandwich that you think there is,” said OJ, as he emerged from the kitchen again. “And by the way, as both of you know, it’s not difficult to hear people talking in the lounge from inside the kitchen. Almost impossible NOT to overhear, actually. Here, Apples, you can have half of my sandwich.”

“Oh, wow! Best Brother Ever!”

“You didn’t have to do that, OJ,” said Dorothee.

“I was doing it anyway, and if there are peanut butter, chocolate hail and chocolate sauce sandwiches being made in this house they might as well be made right. Apples always goes overboard with the chocolate sauce and just ends up making a mess.”

“I can’t control myself with that stuff,” said Apples, through a sticky mouthful of sandwich.

“Besides, I’m kind of in a half-sandwich mood right now,” OJ said.

“How was work?” Apples asked, already halfway through her sandwich. “How was Moxie?”

“Cool, as usual,” said OJ, sitting down on the couch as Dorothee cleared away the Rockstar Maniac peripherals. “We talked about Ex Parte McCardle.”

“Wow,” said Dorothee. “Actual communication.”

“We have talked before, you know,” OJ said. “It’s not like this was unprecedented.”

“Hm.”

“You should talk to her about her cat!” said Apples. She popped the last of her sandwich into her mouth, chewed ferociously for a few seconds, then swallowed hard. “If I worked there I’d be like ‘Hey Moxie, how’s Roxie?’ every chance I got.”

“I’m sure that wouldn’t ever get old,” said OJ, dryly.

Dorothee finished packing up the drums and joined him on the couch.

“I think it’s nice you’re talking to her. How about the other one–”

“Hannah Redivider!”

“Yes, her,” said Dorothee, with a warning look at Apples.

“Um, she’s okay. She’s a Mundane, though.”

“You always say that like it’s some kind of dreadful affliction,” said Dorothee. “I mean, I’m a Mundane and I don’t think it’s so bad.”

“You spent the afternoon playing Rockstar Maniac dressed up as your avatar, Dorothee, that’s not Mundane,” said OJ. He finished the last of his sandwich and passed his empty plate to Apples, who skipped off to the kitchen. “You’re an honorary Proper in any case, just being Apples’ friend.”

“Best friend!” Apples corrected, calling from the kitchen. “Oh hey, you really CAN hear everything out there from in here!”

“We just played Drill Passion,” said Dorothee. “Apples said you liked it.”

“Yeah, when I was like sixteen.” OJ shrugged. “I guess it’s still pretty okay.”

“Apples thought it was cute that we both liked the same song even before we knew each other.”

“What? EVERYONE liked Drill Passion back then, it was impossible not to sing the chorus bit if it was on the radio or something.”

“That’s true,” said Dorothee. “Still, it was pretty fun.”

“Yeah, it’s a good song to play in Rockstar. The last solo is pretty tricky, though.”

“I just Maniac-ed my way through it,” Dorothee admitted.

OJ let his eyes close for a moment.

“Well,” he said. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”

Next:

World 1-3
Rainbow Coast

Hurray, I’m sooo excited! I finally finished my first draft for NaNoWriMo!

If it wasn’t one in the morning with nearly everyone in bed I’d run around the house, sing on the top of my lungs, dance with the dog, throw some snowballs, bake cookies, and then plunge back into the story to work the second draft. My word count is over 25,000! I’m hoping that I can go back through and fix some of the things I skipped over and bring my word count up before the bell tolls! That’d be great! I never really believed I’d make it this far! I hoped I would, I planned on it, but now that it is here I don’t believe it. I’m half afraid to go back over it! I might end up with a new twist and find myself on a whole new adventure.

I work at the antique shop most of the day tomorrow so I won’t even be able to peek at the story until after supper. Probably a good thing, it will give me a little time to think it all over. So good morning to everyone, I’m off to bed to catch some sleep before Mom comes and wakes me up!

Derrick

Ever had one of those days where the whole day goes everyone’s way. But somehow everyone does better than you. I’ve been in the Office for 5 months. So far I have someone to haze new friends, and better yet I think the new intern likes me. I beat chuck to her which is a good thought and that future will never happen because of me. Aren’t I just the worst?

This morning Savannah and I had breakfast at waffle house. Yes we went to Stockton and no, I didn’t get laid. Really this was just a “friends” kind of thing. You would think its perfect, no it’s not; in my case at least. Stockton is an hour away from home; you will not expect me to put my cock on her shoulder while I do the Forty Trick on her. My god she’s so cute, if only she was a 5.

When we got back to NF it was 11 o’clock. I was unusually late, Savannah was on time and Chuck was gone. It was odd I’d see him around the office talking to the women and the other interns but no he was gone. I got to my desk and Mike is staring at his monitor shocked.

Me “what’s up man what are you- holy shit“

Yes on face book the news feed displayed something so horrible, so disgusting, and so vile, not even Quagmire from family guy would have sex with it if it were a hot lady. It said Chuck Delahunt is in a relationship and then followed with the heart sign.

Me “Holy fuck, seriously? This guy has a girlfriend.”

Mike “Yeah that what is says.”

Me “Seriously, what the fuck.”

Mike “Dude, don’t worry about it.”

Joseph “He guys what’s- what the fuck?”

Me “exactly”

Mike “Dude what is the problem?”

The problem I thought that a person we thought of as a loser has a girlfriend. Now that I think about it, doesn’t matter, she’s ugly enough to be put down.

Joseph “The problem at hand is that he can get laid before us.”

Mike “I don’t care, I’m not a virgin.”

Me “Yeah same here.”

I just realized that Joseph may be still a virgin. I’m guessing a guy like Chuck getting laid first before him may hurt him a little.

Me “Wait you’re still a virgin, huh?

Joseph “Y-Yeah”

Me “dude are you 22?”

Joseph “Gonna be in 5 months.”

Mike “We gotta get you laid.”

Me “Yeah, so we are going to a titty bar tonight.”

Joseph “Fuck that”

Me “What?”

Joseph “You heard me, fuck that?”

Me “Why? A cooch is a cooch.”

Joseph “If it’s from a stripper or a hooker, it’s a death sentence for your dick.”

He made a good point score one to Joseph. Luckily I got laid in college at a party, using the Forty Ounce trick. Basically get a girl drunk enough for you to be able to fuck her, in my case, fucker while she is passed out. But don’t pass any judgment; think about this way, if she doesn’t scream rape is not rape. Technically it is, but that stuff is between me and my college roommate.

Me “You have a fuck buddy?”

Joseph “no.”

Me “Can you get one?”

Joseph “Oh maybe.”

Me “can you get one for me.”

Joseph “No”

In mid conversation I pick up a great Idea to have some fun with Chuck’s relationship.

Me “Hey guys, how much do you want to bet when Chuck says ‘I love you’ to her?”

Mike “2 days”

Joseph “1 week”

Me “I think I’ll take up 2 days. He Freddy, Carl!”

Carl “Yeah?”

Me “How much when Chuck says ‘I love you’ to his girl?”

Carl “2 days.”

Freddy “I’m not betting in this.”

Me “Alright I have 3 people for 2 days and 1 guy for one week, awesome. We are betting for 10 bucks because I said so”

Then I start thinking about more bets, what about when he loses her. That is a really fun thing to talk about. I would pay money to see that and record it for personal pleasure. Ever see a grown man cry? It’s fucking hilarious.

Chuck:

Okay you guys might think what everyone’s problem with Chuck is. He is an awful person. When we haze we just call each other gay or we hide each other person’s stuff. How he does it is he does things that personally hurt us. He is trying to have fun, but he somehow has no regard for how we feel. We all know this, he doesn’t because we don’t tell him and he thinks we are all pals. Really the reason why is that we need someone to hate on. It’s the way of the world, like Nazis to the Jews but in our case is a million time less extreme. Plus he tries too hard, we would feel sorry but he does too much and this adds to our reasons to make fun of him. Aren’t we the worst?

My Trendy Wendy notebook that I did my math homework this year and last year is no more. The spirals got all messed up and made it nearly impossible to turn the page of the notebook without ripping the page out. I retired Trendy Wendy and her brother Todd and dug through our school supplies basket for a new Algebra II/Trigonometry notebook to do my homework in. I unearthed a green College Ruled spiral notebook and packed it in my bag to take to school the next morning.

Yes, I did homework in it, but I noticed that the closely spaced lines made writing between them more inviting for me. Smaller print means more words can fit on the page – it’s a no-brainer. So, for the past couple weeks or so, I haven’t been paying attention in Trig (and I’m sure that my average has suffered a little if not immensely). Instead, I’ve been picking up my pen and getting lost in words I have written. Poetry’s always been my forte, but until a couple of weeks ago, I hadn’t been writing any new material. Now, thanks to this green notebook, I haven’t been using my laptop in school as much. Instead, I’ve been distracted by the beauty a clean, white page can provide. Just knowing I can fill that blankness with words makes me want to write all over on every page. So, that’s what I’ve been doing.

The green notebook isn’t for Trig anymore. No, I unearthed a new notebook for that subject (this time it’s red!) and have been using that instead. I’m letting this plain old green notebook help me stretch my writing abilities. I’m writing everything I can (it’s all poetry, mind you) even if it ends up sucking. At least I’m getting everything out of my head.

Lately I have been trying to write beyond my comfort zone. I’ve always kind of written G-rated poetry subconsciously. Now, my most recent works hold a new, deep and hidden meaning that it will take a reader several read-throughs to figure out what it’s truly about. Some of my recent poetry could be rated R or PG-13 at least. I used to be cautious about what I wrote. Now I find myself wanting to write about everything that I hold in my mind, no matter how vulgar or inappropriate my thoughts are (and let’s face it, every mind thinks vulgar and inappropriate thoughts sometimes). One of my most favorite poems is by this poet called C.B. Trail. He obviously didn’t care what the reader thought when he wrote “Sonnet”:

This is for the afternoon we lay in the leaves
After it had been winter for half a year,
And I kissed you and unbuttoned your jeans
And touched you and made you smile, my dear.
And of all the good things that love means,
One of them is to touch you there
And make you smile, among the leaves,
And feel your wetness and your sweet short hair,
And kiss your breasts and put my tongue
Into the delirium between your soft pale thighs,
Because the winter has been much too long
And soon will come again, when this love dies.
I will hear sermons preached, and some of them be true,
But I will not regret that afternoon with you.

I love his honesty and just the truth behind this sonnet. I have had some of my friends read this poem, and their first reaction is “ew! That’s disgusting!” but me? I think it’s beautiful. I think the way it was written is beautiful. I don’t necessarily think that the act displayed in the poem is beautiful (though, what in love isn’t beautiful?), but the way it was written is just phenomenal. Total honesty. Total fearlessness. I want to write like that. I don’t want to be reserved with my writing just because I’m afraid of being obscene or inappropriate. Marilyn Manson’s song “mOBSCENE” has a line that goes “Be! Obscene! Be be obscene!” I’m going to be totally honest with everything I write to get my point across, and if it means being obscene in the process, so be it. I’m willing to take the risk. This green notebook is helping me stretch that ability and is nursing it to reach its full potential. I write how I feel instead of how I pretend I feel. I make up stories in my head and then write them down in poetic form. I create magic with my poetry.

So, I’m trying to be open-minded with everything I write. Even if I think it’s horrible, I keep it. Even if I think a subject is a little iffy to write about, I do it anyway. I’m broadening my horizons. I’m making way for the new – so, out with my old ways and techniques!

Here are samples of my random thoughts in poems from school days (I’m keeping this G-rated here):

You Don’t Know Me

I appear miserable all the time
angry, sad, never happy
to you, this appears to be quite the crime.
Oh, how you don’t know me.
I’m filled with laughter and smiles
and I know, laughter you can’t see
but even though I run miles and miles
I don’t think you know me.
You think you know all my quirks
and what I like to be
the truth is, I’m not the queen of jerks
which shows that you don’t know me.
For as long as there is air to breathe
nobody – nobody – will ever know me.

I would tell you how the sun rose
but I’ve never seen its birth.
I know that the light slowly grows
and gradually heats the Earth.

All I know is when I wake
her silky rays reach my eyes
I know there is no mistake -
I’m in the right place when I rise.

I would tell you how the sun rose
but you’re asking the wrong girl.
This secret, nobody but her knows.
We’re both little girls in a big world.

Alone,
hated,
discombobulated.
She’s alone,
hated
and discombobulated.
I…
I’m alone,
hated
and discombobulated.

Surrounded by millions, thousands, billions
she smiles for the camera constantly.
She’s mocked and her popularity’s docked
all around her, bodies are flocked.
She looks in the mirror, but cannot see.
The flashes blind her temporarily.

She faults in her footing, cameras still shooting
capturing a moment that lives on forever.
She’s harassed and so embarrassed…
never did she ask for this.
She looks for her shoe, but cannot see
the flashes blind her temporarily.

She never has that moment, the missing component
to calm herself down completely.
Not missing a beat, she’s again up and on her feet.
She struggles, but won’t admit defeat.
She walks on, but cannot see…
the flashes blind her permanently.

Ryan Star – Breathe video

I just saw this music video tonight for the first time on Yahoo Music. The people in it are real unemployed people, carrying their signs in New York City. I’m posting it as another reminder that there are faces behind the unemployment statistics and stories. (Plus the song is nice.)

I mentioned in a previous post about a first orgasm a woman: “is blond, has small tits, doesn’t have a nice skin, her face is none of my interests and still can turn me on like just a few women can.” I told I’ll write about her. This post is going to be written clearly about her. And about the deep shit I am right now. Read the story of Kendra.

I’d fuck you

It started two years ago. We knew each other for a year that time, however we weren’t especially interested in each other’s company. She leaves in a small town near Montana Pine. I visited her for writing an article together as we previously both participated a trekking in the mountains. I slept there and we hooked up with each other. I knew I’d fuck her but I also knew she’s absolutely not my cup of tea apart from that thing. So we did fuck several times and it was really fascinating. She was screaming and having quick and strong orgasms. She turned me on. The sex was absolutely there.

After a short while – not more than 2-3 weeks – I felt she’s getting attached to me. I was more than right. It was the start of the dirtiest love ever in my life.

Multiple rejections

I decided to tell her what this thing means to me. I wrote her a letter and told her it is not going to be a love it is not going to be a marriage it is not going to be a relationship and that I don’t want to have more than sex and good conversations in the bath tab. Be my mistress but any other affection is forbidden. She said ok I’m like carpe diem, don’t care about what’s gonna happen ’cause I’m satisfied with the things you give me. I accepted even if I felt it’s so fake.

In December 2007 we went to the mountains with a large company. We fucked a lot in our room, but I denied her downstairs where the party was going on. Her ex-lover was there too and she felt strong having me beside her so she finally could deny him and could finish that never ending story. Even if I wasn’t explicitly her boyfriend I felt shame about being with her. Christmas has come, she gave me a nice gift and a few days later I broke up with her. The whole emotional part was a huge lie from my part. I felt like I were in a cage. Her love has stifled me. And it still does. So I denied her once again.

In February 2008 we participated a house party – in the mountains again – and she got drunk like hell. I had my fast  that time so I was 100% sober. We slept in a large room with 7-8 other people. She came to my bed and after a short while she told me we are going to fuck. I told her, no it’s not possible, but she was quite definite and told me I don’t care what you want. OK then.. I always had fun of her pussy, so we fucked. Next day I took her home. In the car she asked me whether we kissed last night as she doesn’t remember. I was laughing and told her: what kissing? We fucked! She didn’t believe it. You’re kidding me. No I don’t, you were categorical. She was stunned.

So I slept at her place and had a sperm-splattering night again. Oh my, that fucking desire. Her pussy and the way she fucks that is I’m addicted to. After a while I broke up that non-existing relationship again. She wasn’t the only one I had sex with that time. I neither considered her my girlfriend nor my lover.

Reena, her enemy

In March I met Reena in Salvofort. She was a beautiful girl with beautiful eyes. A few weeks later we hooked up and she became my girlfriend. So Kendra was absolutely dropped. She was mad about it.

Our relationship with Reena lasted only for a few months we broke up end July. Me and Reena are still very good friends, right now we are together on a weekend and she’s just reading a book close to me.

So Kendra has been mad about her since the very first moment. To be honest Kendra’s pussy was something I couldn’t resist. In the last month with Reena once I got drunk in Salvofort and Kendra’s town is just on the road home from there. I stopped at her place and asked her to see me in a pub. She was cute and had a few more beers but a short later we were in her bed. I was in a very bad shape and cried her how did I miss her. And we fucked again, dazzled with emotions.

My love

That was the point when I felt we might become a couple. My emotions were strong and I felt warmness when I thought about her. It was definitely a love. There was a festival where I arrived with Reena. We were together in those mini houses. After a short while I have disappeared and I found myself in Kendra’s bed. Actually we slept in my brother’s mini house, and fucked with Kendra like lovers do. Because we were in love. I told her about her beautiful hand and that I love to have sex with her. It was really charming. So after that I had to break up with Reena. I went to Rivercurve with my brother. I remember I was at his place, I walked around in his house and every time I was thinking about Kendra I felt an endless desire. I adored Reena and I still do. I had to break up with her because things became unfair. Reena was participating a major summer festival in Marketon. I was far away from her but I couldn’t wait and broke up with her on telephone.

When I came back I was ready for love with Kendra. But not longer than a few days. I don’t know why, when I was there it just disappeared. I felt that I can’t be in her company any more.

“Fuck you, asshole”

The breakup wasn’t a noble one. She realized that after the love suddenly I can’t resist her. We discussed that and she understood what the situation is. That week we were on a long bicycle trip in a group of 50 people. There was an evening where most of the people got drunk. I hooked up with a girl. We did nothing else but kissing. Kendra came there to us and asked me: why are you doing this with me? I asked her: does it really work like this? And it did. I told her once again that it’s over, so she should go.

At the and of the trip she sent a text to me: “Fuck you, asshole”.

Everything is over between us

The summer scene was strong enough to not to talk for a few months. But somehow we hooked up again in November. In December 2008 we were in the mountains again with the same company as a year ago. I went to sleep. We were three in the bed: Kendra, me and Peggy. Peggy is a girl with large tits I could conquer in October after a long while. We were laying in the bed and Peggy started to stroke my back. She was more than erotic. Kendra was on my right, Peggy on my left. Both of them wanted me as their official boyfriend. I was just laying, and smiling in myself about the situation. After a while Kendra has asked Peggy: Do you really have to do this? Don’t you know that it is hurting me? I don’t exactly remember what did Peggy answer and what did I answer. But like 30 minutes later Peggy went to another room and Kendra gave a big pleasure for my dick. A few days ago I was thinking about this case and I realized that if I were smarter, it might have been my first threesome.

Christmas came again, and I wanted to end the whole story. Again. I have sent her a short text: Everything is over between us. I wanted it to be ritual, clearly stating and final. It has influenced.

Two more occasions

In 2009 we didn’t took too much care of each other. There was a party at the beginning of summer, where we had sex. Before and after that, nothing else happened. Until this October. There was a common friends wedding in Montana Pine, and she asked my flatmate to sleep at our place. In October I hooked up with a black girl, and after a long time I was finally in love again. But Kendra still has that sexual attraction. Before the wedding she came to my room in a sexy bra. She sat on my bed. I couldn’t resist. Better said I almost couldn’t. I told her I’m having a relation with someone and she’ll be in the wedding too. And that I want to become a trustworthy person. She told me, she’s daunted about how many women I had sex with in the last couple of months. Even so, she stroked my penis and wanted me to fuck her. My desire was incredible, but I really wanted to remain faithful to Babe, the black girl. I told her once again, let’s jut not do it. Eventually I fingered her into a 2 minute orgasm. So we were done and more or less I remained faithful.

After the wedding, in the morning, the party has continued at a friend’s place. We went to sleep. After a few hours of sleep Kendra cam to the room where I slept and asked me to go to her room to warm up her feet. We were still drunk and of course.. we had sex. I tried to tell her again to remember to the last afternoon, where we promised to each other to end this never ending story. The debate was more with myself. She gave me a condom, she told me she’s just having her ovulation period. We used it, and fucked and told nasty things to each other in the mean time. In a given moment I stood up and removed the condom, and told her to stop. It was quite funny because we started drifting around in the room. She wanted to catch me, and when she did she took my penis into her mouth and started to suck it. I fucked her again, I wasn’t strong enough to resist. I love her pussy. I love the way she’s doing sex. So I fucked without condom. After a while I stood up again and told her it’s not appropriate, and I left the room.

The black soup

A few weeks later I called her on her birthday. I greeted her and hung up the phone. One minute later she called me back. She told me her menses is delaying. Later that evening she also told me, she decided to keep the baby. Shit happens. I do want a family, but she’s not the one I will live with. This is a deep shit. If she wants to keep the baby there’s nothing I can do against.