The adventures of S.J. and Mike - Part two - looking for Mr. Goodshovel

[SJHigbee]

Well, I?ve walked round and round the streets of Chepstow. Or skidded. It?s so icy, the pavements are like glass. No sign of Mike or Jack, anywhere. No one has seen them ? and let?s face it, they don?t exactly fade into the scenery, either of them?

I?ve come to the conclusion that they haven?t been set free, like me. I don?t think that anyone was after me. Even old Snodgrass was only my therapist ? until Mike showed up. He?s been caught up with that waxy freak that was lodging in his hair, which stole the Orb, the symbol of the Power of Great Britain, remember. And kept snitching pints of real ale. Another symbol of power?

Or maybe CW is behind his kidnapping. Maybe she?s had him scooped up and shipped back to the States to chain him to AT?s slush mountain and got him reading his eyes raw on the torrent of submissions? Mike and Jack are both really frightened of her. And her cat. And neither of them frighten easily.

Anyhow, I?m too cold to think straight, anymore. I need somewhere warm, a nice cup of tea, hot muffins and mince pies. And a good night?s sleep. But I?m not giving up. Somehow, I?ll get Mike free. And Jack. My word on it.

[SJHigbee]

Happy New Year, everyone.

Especially Mike and Jack, wherever you are? Hope you both had a better Christmas than I did. In the end, I decided to go and stay with Aunt Gertrude and cook Christmas lunch for her, what with her hip playing up. Can?t say it was an outstanding success. The turkey we had was a bit like Jack?s spit roasted rats ? charred on the outside while still rare in the middle. I didn?t think it was a problem, but to hear Aunty go on and one about it, you?d think I was trying to poison her.

That?s what you get for trying to help someone out. I gave her some really expensive, perfume in a fancy bottle. It?s mixed and blended by some mega film star, apparently. Not that Aunty was overly impressed. She took a sniff and then spent the rest of the day complaining about her sinuses acting up. Among a big old heap of other complaints?

I got a pair of slippers from her. Sheepskin things with a zip up the front. The sort of thing that would really suit Aunty. After I thanked her, she started on at me. I?ve not been acting my age, apparently. The family are plain ashamed of my ?antics?, according to Aunty. In fact, Aunty said, Cousin Jeffrey felt that the family should turn their Backs on me and URGED Aunty to cut me out of her Will.

At that point, I?m afraid all my Christmas spirits caught up with me (I?d been swigging from the whiskey bottle while basting the turkey ? a habit I caught from Jack, who always cooks when on the blinder side of drunk?).

Instead of mumbling how sorry I was, I told her what she could do with her bleeping Will. And what ? exactly ? I?d do to Cousin Jeffrey?s weaselly little face should he ever show it at my door. He was always a sniveling little snitch when we were kids. Some people never change?

So, I ended up driving back to my very cold house in the early hours of Boxing Day. Only to find the boiler had broken down? Still, I managed to light a camp fire and managed to cook a couple of frozen fish fingers over it for breakfast. Well, that?s a bit of an exaggeration. I singed the breadcrumb coating. It was still a bit frosty and crunchy in the middle. Still? as Jack would say, ?That what yer teeth were invented fer, wimmin.?

The Gas Company are coming to fix the boiler sometime next week. I have to say those slippers proved to be very handy as they were a size too large so I could get three pairs of socks and two pairs of woolen tights on AND wear them.

Once I?ve thawed out, I?ll be able to resume my search for Mike and Jack. Take care. And keep warm?

[SJHigbee]

Well, here I am! New Year – new beginnings…

Except – not quite. Some of the old-timers around here might just recognize this 40- something Brit blonde from when I started out here as a very na?ve Stablehand. Or not. It’s been a hard year, what with one thing and another. Shovels… amazing insights into the workings of the universe thanks to displaced mad gods… kidnappings… living rough in the desert… capture and slavery… a cold homecoming. And – most importantly of all just now - an absent Mike and Jack.

Although, you’ll be glad to know that Candleman turned up. Just as I was finishing off my packing, actually. If only he’d waited another hour to show, I’d have at least a couple more changes of clean clothes. As it was, I couldn’t just leave him. You’d be surprised just how pathetic a lump of wax can look. However, I did promise that if he caused any fuss at all on the plane, I’d find the nearest boiler once we’d landed and toss him in. The threat worked because he stayed quietly in my case all through the flight to the US. And the long car journey to the new SFReader Headquarters, where I am now staying…

I’m convinced that this is where I’ll find the answers to Mike’s disappearance. It’s too much of a coincidence that SFReader has a big change around just about the time that Mike goes missing. And now I’m here, I’m going to get to the bottom of this.

Meantime *yawn* the old jet lag is catching up… I’ll just make sure that Candleman is still safely tucked up in my case- zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

[SJHigbee]

Hm… Well, things HAVE changed around here. I know that some of you lurkers never bothered to do more than attend the odd party, occasionally. So maybe you haven’t realized just how different it now is.

Of course, the obvious change is the move from the old SFReader HQ to this new place. Now – I know that the old place was a bit of a pain on all sorts of levels, of course I do. For starters, that Gothic faux-castle with all those solid stone floors, turrets and winding staircases going nowhere in particular (apparently…) cost a fortune in heating. So generally Webmaster Dave didn’t bother. Well, as you’ll recall, he used to spend a large amount of time splashing about in his heated pool. Or lolling around in his Jacuzzi with his entourage of bikini’d girlies, sipping a sticky, violet-coloured drink from a tall glass with a little umbrella in it…

And those parties *sigh* Yeah – I’m sad that they’ve come to an end. Because back in the days when I was a mere Stablehand, it was my job to clean up afterwards. But, now I’m a Protector, I’d be entitled to attend…

The parties aren’t the only thing to come to an end. The Webmaster now no longer has his ladies – not even fully dressed ones. These days, he’s surrounded by men in sharp suits and sharper faces. Can’t imagine any of them playing ‘Hunt the Thong’ while splashing around in the pool. In fact, it’s a bit of a stretch to visualize this new version of the Webmaster frisking around in his Speedos…

And, yeah, this shiny new building – all steel and glass and plastic. Very modern. Very convenient. Very corporate. But – have you noticed that those long beige, grey-carpeted corridors seem to stretch forever?

Oops… that’s my pager going off. As Protector, I have Duties – I’ll tell you about those, later. When I get a min.

[SJHigbee]

Wheesh… I’ll tell you those bean-counters surrounding the Webmaster surely know how to squeeze the very last ounce of energy from us hard-working drones.

Gone are the days when you strolled into SFReader’s favourite watering hole, “Anything Goes”, to find Erazmus, Nicholas and Crystalwizard engaged in the Star Trek edition of Monopoly… or watch Dark Gladys persuading some drunken Stablehands to play Strip Poker… or listen to the Webmaster and Nathan debating some deep philosophical questions. One memorable discussion was – if men are from Mars and women are from Venus, do children come from Uranus? And if not, why not?

Ah… those were the days. The days when “Anything Goes” really meant it. Not like the current version, all chrome and bright lights. Back then, you generally didn’t sit in the darker corners – unless you were feeling particularly brave as you’d never quite know what you’d find there. When Health & Safety didn’t see fit to ban the oil lamps – or using bowie knives on the dartboard, instead of darts… (All except Jack, who insisted on his Kaybee. And Ramas, who preferred stilettos, of course.)

Now, it’s all about ‘optimising the income opportunities surrounding the SFReader brand.’ Honestly – I actually heard one of those blank-faced suits say that to Webmaster Dave. And no – he didn’t burst out into loud peals of laughter. Or tell him to shovel it back up where the sun doesn’t shine. Nope. Webmaster Dave nodded, like it actually made sense…

And now I’ve been here for a while, I realize that it does. SFReader is now not so much a collection of eccentric characters getting together to hang out and have fun – it’s a ‘community of like-minded clients who have put their unique stamp on the SF & F genre’ according to the latest ad that has gone out on the local TV station.

I still haven’t quite gotten to the bottom of WHY the suits moved in. And why the Webmaster didn’t tell them to take a long walk in a parallel universe. The old Dave would have… As for the others, you don’t see them much. Maybe, meet them while walking along these interminable corridors. When they’ll smile, nod and then look away, quickly. They’re all dressing differently, too. Remember Crystalwizard’s robes? Well, if you never got to see them, you’ll won’t now. She’s in smart, tailored two piece outfits, generally in charcoal grey, or black. Gone are the swirling crimson, sunset orange, cerise and fluorescent yellow patterns…

And another thing-

Oh – there goes my pager. Again. I forgot I’d promised to pull another double shift… Try to catch you later. Or tomorrow. If I get the chance. Or next week, maybe… When I might snatch a few minutes to see if I can find out more about what’s happened to Mike…

[Mike Griffiths]

Oh Man

SJ is going to be Soooooooooooooooooooooooo mad at me!!! Here we are fighting an army of supernatural serial killers and then I just disappear. But seriously, it was not my fault.

Seriously!!!

How was I supposed to know Jack had a book coming out? I didn't even know he was writing one. And I certainly didn't know he was using my name as the author. One moment we are fighting evil fiends, the next thing I know we're signed up for a book tour back in the states. I would have never left SJ, but once were were there... the flowing wine, all the women throwing themselves (mostly at Jack), and well...the money. You know, it was pretty exciting. The Chronicles of Jack Primus, well they are a big hit. Amazon is a-buzz with it. Things were all crazy. I kept meaning to head back to the land of tea and tweed, but ah, SJ kept posting, and even if she wasn't great, she was okay and seemed safe. I guess I just got caught up in all the excitement and glamor of a small press book release.

And then when everything looked like it was going so well, Crystalwizard showed up. She had more assignments. They sounded exciting at first. Flashing lights, marketing, more money, but soon it was Jack and I repairing her gutters and then remodeling her kitchen. During all of this she kept telling us how we were helping save humanity, like the heroes we were, but Jack wasn't buying any of it, at least not after all her food ran out.

Soon the book sales began to slow down and, with our unusably large ale habit, we found ourselves not only working for Crystalwizard, but also her relatives, neighbors, fellow book club members, and assorted wizards just so we could have a few bucks for another twelver of suds.

Obviously, we were getting desperate. But then, out of the blue, Jack showed up at her castle with handfuls of gold, mumbling something about the blessing from Yig. Never being out to look a gift-snake in the mouth, we waiting for Crystalwizard to leave for some Con of some sort and traded the gold for two tickets to Golly Old England.

Hopefully SJ doesn't hate me know and, even more importantly, I hope she has a place for us to stay cuz we are broke and also need someplace to store these seventeen heavy boxes of books covering Jack's Chronicles that we still haven't sold.

MDG

[SJHigbee]

WHAT!! I’m worrying myself witless… Go into a major decline… Spent almost my very last savings on a plane ticket to the US – only to discover that Mike and Jack have been on some PUBLISHING binge!

*Gasp* Oh… thank goodness they’re alright!

Don’t anyone DARE tell them I said that. Well – we’re in a pickle and no mistake… Once more, separated by the Atlantic. I’m getting mighty sick of that stretch of water.

I don’t think that my place back home is particularly safe. Or warm. I know – I’ll contact Mike and Jack and suggest that they invite themselves over to Aunt Gertrude. She’ll appreciate the company. And if they’ve been doing up Crystalwizard’s abode, the least they can do is fix a few things around Aunt Gertrude’s little two up, two down.

Meanwhile, I’ve got one or three issues here stacking up. Darkbow’s sexy, saturnine little beard has gone – along with the cool leather jacket and tight black jeans – to be replaced by a 3 piece suit. The effect is… unsettling. And yes – it might sound trivial. But it’s an indicator of just how things are changing around here.

The other problem is my Protector duties. I’m detailed to patrol the exterior of the shiny new building - car park, the arboretum and maze. With Dark Gladys. Who, sadly, isn’t sporting a business suit or a civilized attitude. Not towards me, anyhow.

And Candleman has just surfaced, after having disappeared off with Scotty, after an emotional reunion left Scotty spattered in wax and tears… I think Candleman is looking smaller and… smug. Which is a little creepy. I have this theory that-

Oh… there’s goes my pager. Again. I swear – if that’s Dark Gladys messing around, I’ll dangle her from the penthouse suite by those darned dreadlocks of hers… Or maybe mutter under my breath that it’s about time she grew up. In a whisper that she can’t hear.

[Mike Griffiths]

I knew SJ was going to be angry, but you don't know the half of it. My ears are still ringing.
What is a lumpish pox-marked gudgeon anyway?

Now looking at my wallet, I'm trying to arrange our finances. Jack made a few bucks on his book tour, but most of that went back to the owners of Descutes Pale Ale. I've got my marketing manager job with CW, so together we might have enough for cab fair to the airport. Hmmm

It sounds like SJ is in no real danger. Maybe those Darcarre. (Jack keeps calling them Darcarre) have gotten what they want. But still these scumbags used me and even if it wasn't my fault, they got the Orb and well someone has to stop them. Besides, I'm not completely convinced that SJ is safe. What if they are preparing some god awful spell and saving SJ for the sacrifice. It seems unlikely, but Jack keeps on saying it is the case for some reason.

There is one thing that we both agree on. Something about SJ is special. The shovel picked her. She might have some powers that she doesn't even now about. What if Edgar needs those very powers to fuel the Orb.

"Shut up, Jack. Stop trying to write over my shoulder. It is because of your damn book that we are in this mess in the first place. Oh leave my new job out of it."

Okay, well my cell phone still works. I ah... I wonder how much extra money SJ has? I mean aren't all the English rich? Colonial powers and all that. I guess I better call her again. Jack give me those ear plugs first. This might get loud.

MDG

[SJHigbee]

It doesn?t get any better, does it? I?ve been getting frantic phone calls from Aunt Gertrude. And Cousin Jeffrey, who made some VERY unpleasant accusations. Reckons I?m trying to drive Aunt Gertrude insane to get my hands on her money. As I pointed out to him ? just how can I pull a stunt like that from this side of the Atlantic? And then he tells me - Mike and Jack only turn up at her little cottage at midnight, complete with boxes and boxes of books. Telling Aunt Gertrude that I promised they could stay till I sent them their air fare back to the States. Where?s their manners ? or tact? I TOLD them that they couldn?t keep the books at Aunty?s house. I TOLD them that since her accident, she?d gone all peculiar about books. Won?t have one in the house. So what do they do? Only go and dump half a warehouse-full in her tiny hallway.

But that isn?t what caused her emergency admission to Middle Wallop Cottage Hospital. Oh no ? Jack has to go one better than that. She?d mentioned that she was out of cereal for breakfast. Or bacon ? could they manage with a piece of toast till she got the milkman to drop off some more supplies? Jack offered to get breakfast, instead. Well, of course, Aunty thought he was off to Tesco for eggs or something.

But Jack had other ideas. Decided to go hunting just before dawn. But surprise, surprise ? he didn?t find the back gardens of Lesser Wallop brimming with suitable wildlife. Until he came across the hutch at the bottom of Aunty?s garden. So when she hobbles downstairs to the sight and smell of Jack frying a lump of meat on the Aga, she discovers that it?s dear little Wibbles on the menu?

Still. There?s a silver lining in every cloud. Now they?ve admitted her into hospital for nervous prostration, they?ve decided to fix her busted hip.

As for Jack and Mike, I?m so mad I could spit. Just WAIT till I get Mike on the phone. He?ll be SO sorry!

[SJHigbee]

Well, I got him on the phone. Not that did much good. He was in major cringe-mode - you know Mike... All gabbled excuses and when that didn't work, he just kept repeating the word 'sorry'. Wish I had a quid every time he's worn my ears out on THAT one...

Well, I don't care just how much he wants to get back here. He can jolly well cool his heels at Aunt Gertrude's for a while and fix the place up. It's the least he can do.

Meantime, back here, things are happening. I can feel it in the atmosphere. Crystalwizard is busy striding up and down the endless corridors with a frown on her face black enough to scare the Devil himself. Or Webmaster Dave. Whose herd of men-in-suits has trebled in size in the last couple of days. Is SFReader in the throes of a hostile takeover? I'm not sure. No one senior than Protector is around to ask. They're all in Meetings. No - really. I know they always used to say they were in meetings, but all the guys were doing were playing poker, knocking back Uncle Pete's very strong homebrew or playing scary practical jokes on each other. (I'll tell you about some of those another time...) However, this time - they really ARE in meetings. Complete with pots of cold coffee, stale doughnuts and piles of paper...

I think- Uh- there goes my pager. Again. Still - look on the bright side. All this overtime I'm logging must mean that my paycheck is gonna put a smile on my face when it finally comes through...

[Mike Griffiths]

Hello Folks

Ok, So how was I supposed to know how many books to buy? I figured I'd be selling a few thousand a week by now, let alone what we were be moving online. Yeah, alright, maybe I have a few extra, but think of it as a retirement plan. We go down to Piccadelly, if I can sell a few books we eat. SJ wants to see a show. If she helps me pimp these books, we can go. I mean we have Jack right here, how hard is in going to be to sell his Chronicles?

So here I am showing up with this great offer for her, and she acts like SHE is doing us a favor my letting us store them here for a few. Her Auntie isn't even around. Maybe Jack shouldn't have gone after their little Winnie, or Wilbur or Winston, or whatever its name is, but we live pretty close to the Earth and all.

That was the wrong thing to say because SJ told us that if we love the Earth so much we can sleep on it. That was right before she stormed out of the house, leaving us with these weird pale folks that limped around, making me feel like I'm in some backwater HP Lovecraft tale.

So were did she go anyway? Aren't there some villains around here we need to stomp. What about Edgar and the Orb? Sure we had to take a break for the Chronicles of Jack Primus book tour, but I figured SJ would be hunting up clues the whole time and figuring out the Darcarre's agenda, but the only agenda she has memorized is her auntie's pills.

I'm going to leave Jack here and go out to look for her. "No, Jack don't bother fixing the roof or anything else, in fact don't touch anything. I mean it. I'm sure he'll be fine."

Sj thinks she can hide from me. Heeh heeh, she has another thing coming. Ohhhh Dathoe, Dahtoe, come here buddy. I got a little job for you. Go find the nice lady. Yep, yep, her pockets are full of treats, now let's go. No, leave the cat alone. Come on..."

[SJHigbee]

Well… here I am. In Crystalwizard’s quarters. Shh. Don’t make a noise. I’m – strictly speaking – not s’posed to be here. But, if she sweeps in, carrying that clipboard of hers with her, then I’ve got a story all lined up about how I heard a noise and felt it was my duty to check out her place to ensure that no intruders had gotten in…

Hm… Well, it’s fantastically tidy. Scarily so, really. Wow – look at this. All her clothes are folded and hung in colour coordination. Books, DVD’s and CD’s are all in alphabetical order… And – what’s this??

My goodness… a cupboard given over to chocolate. Also arranged by brand and date order. Oops – something chinked. Bottles of… brandy. Oh my… just look at this – there’s SIX bottles of brandy here. And – well I’ve not got time to count the chocolate. Let’s just say – A LOT.

Hang on – there’s a- It’s a hidden door! Oh, ok – I’ve found the secret latch… Oh…

Oh my… You’ll never believe what’s in here. Well – of course. It all fits. No wonder the poor soul is hitting the chocolate and brandy. There’s a huge picture of CW’s cat on the back wall. Edged in black. Along with – oh this is SO sad… She’s got his basket and all his kitty toys lined up – and look, on this other wall, there’s a montage of lots and lots of other pics of her cat. Has she ever taken any photos of anything else???

Poor CW – she’s in mourning. Oh, I feel awful. I should’ve got in touch with her. Told her that the cat was still alive. But when she’s striding up and down the Corridors of Power in the new and improved SFReader building, she never seems to be anything other than uber-controlled and businesslike… While underneath that calm persona is a woman bingeing on chocolate and brandy cos she’s missing her cat…

I’d better leave… I feel I’m intruding, here. Right. Shut the door and tiptoe out… Just need to make a quiet getaway.

WHAT! A seagull – in the building! And – it’s divebombing… Get away! Shh… Oh good grief – it’s Dahtoe! Shoo. Go on – get! WILL you stop the squawking! You’ll bring everyone- Ow! Get OUT of my pocket- WHAT are you doing?

Oh no… Look at the mess you’ve made on the pale grey carpet. They’re not going to like that…

[crystalwizard]

Ooo that must have hurt.

So this is S.J.

Wonder how long she's been unconcious. She's going to have a really nasty bruise on the side of her head there.

She's not going to like the having to replace that table either, but it wasn't designed to have someone fall on to it and hit it with their head like that

Seagull droppings all over my carpet. She must have brought that stupid seagull with her.

Now, if I could just figure out how she got in here and what she was planning on doing with that duct tape and those hand cuffs.

I hope she has enough to pay the hospital bill, I hear the ambulance pulling into the parking lot now.

[ghostposts]

*Puts a carpet shampooer in the mail*

[SJHigbee]

It’s a disgrace! An outrage!! I mean – it could happen to anyone!

You’re prowling around someone’s rooms – well, investigating, is a better way of putting it. With NO intention of taking ANYTHING… When you’re attacked by a demented bird. Who – in the general excitement – happens to void his bowels onto the ratty, rather threadbare carpet… You overbalance and fall, striking your head on the corner of a table. A table – I might add, that had no business being there. Just littering up the place in a VERY inconvenient way. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it was a quality piece of furniture – but no. Managed to make Walmart’s Flat-Pack Specials look like something from the Antiques Roadshow… A merest knock and it just collapses. Causing really nasty splinters in some unmentionable places…

You wake up in hospital. You know it’s a hospital because there are sick people in beds alongside you and a bored orderly in a uniform shunting a mop around the floor.

Are you in an Intensive Care Unit with leads and monitors shoved into all your orifices? No… Is a George Clooney lookalike bending over your bed with a bedside manner that makes you wish he’d join you? No… All that happens is a bespectacled young man (looking all of 17 years old) wafts by your bed, shines a light in your eyes and tell you not to drink alcohol or do anything too strenuous for the next 12 hours and to take a painkiller if you have a headache (Duh! I’d NEVER have worked that one out myself…) And then presents you with a bill for half the national debt!

Next CW gets in on the act! Claims damages for the psychological damage of finding an INTRUDER in the house. Intruder – me??? We have mutual friends. I’ve looked after her cat! She nods to me in the corridor at SFReader – we’re virtually FAMILY!!! And – get this – demands compensation for the damage caused to – and I quote - “valuable and irreplaceable household items”!! I could get her a perfectly adequate replacement for that piece of junk she had strewn about the place at the local dump!

And to think that I was sorry about her cat! That’s it – I’m not saying a thing about the fact that I’d left it with Aunt Gertrude. She can go on suffering and mourning, for all I care. All that overtime I’ve clocked up at SFReader - and it’ll all have to go on paying the hospital bills and CW’s outrageous claims.

I’d spit – except that someone in this wretched country would probably FINE me…

[crystalwizard]

I'm surprised that the postman made it here in one piece. It's amazing that the letter I just received from SJ's Aunt Gertrude didn't explode into flames in his truck.

Not sure why she's got my cat... I mean had my cat, it's happily purring while snacking on ... I'm not sure what that dead thing is... part of a gopher? But from the sounds of her letter, SJ might want to find a nice dark hole to hide in for a while.

Now if I could figure out what's happened to Mike. I hope that hussy hasn't got him shackled to a bed somewhere.

[Mike Griffiths]

Deep Breath...

So I head all the way across the pond to find SJ and now I discover she is in Texas!!!

Great. So now Jack and I had to sell every copy of The Chronicles, dirt cheap I might add, along with SJ's originla collection of 19th century English science fiction authors. Hmm that guy was sure impressed to find a book signed by HG himself. I hope 50 pounds was a good price for it.

So now we are heading to Saggy-something Texas and I coundn't be more nervous if I was in a room full of hungry serial killers. Crystalwizard is going to put a hex on me for sure. Once she grabs that red pen, I'll end up in a pink tu-tu for the next month, or worth yet, when she finds out what I did with the AT forum, well, if I only get locked into her basement and chained in front of a computer, I'll consider myself lucky.

My only hope is that I have her cat. Ol' shaggy and Dathoe are locked away in the baggage hold so at least that is something I have going for me. It looks like we are approaching the airport. I had better steal myself, this could be rough.

Hey...Oh man, there goes my stomach. Yeah Jack, you don't need to tell me something is wrong. Nope, I don't think it is the Darcarre this time. I...yep I hear the caterwauling and the squawks. Oh no! How did they... Oh shoot I can barely hold onto my laptop. I had better put this away and hope that we can somehow land safely.

This is just great, yelp.sa7df0v8iubvklx

[SJHigbee]

Well. I warned her. She can’t say that I didn’t. I told her – I said. ‘Back. Off. Now.’ But, you know Dark Gladys… if you’re really unfortunate. If you were born under a luckier star, I might add that she’s a mean-minded piece of work who makes Gordon Brown look quietly tractable…

She’s been blighting my days and dogging my nights (her latest practical ‘joke’ was putting a rattler in my bed…) since I got here. But after the biz with CW cleaning out my bank account with her ridiculous claims, I got MAD. And Dark Gladys didn’t Back Off.

Yep. That’s her. Dangling by her ankles out’ve Webmaster Dave’s Penthouse Suite Balcony. I TOLD her Jack Primus had taught me some Moves. TOLD her she’d be sorry if she tried pushing me around just one more time. But she just opened her scabby mouth and laughed – showing all the blackened stumps that once were her teeth. And called me a-

Yep. THAT word. The one she’s screaming out right now. No wonder her teeth all died. Sewers have less filth pouring out of them than Dark Gladys’s mouth. We’re s’posed to be on duty right now. Patrolling the perimeter fencing around SFReader. Know what? I couldn’t care less. I’m going inside for a cup of coffee. And then I’m handing in my notice and going to stow away on a plane back home. I’m sick of this place. And its corporate jealousies and secrets… They can all-

Shoot – can’t anyone drive properly in this benighted place? They all INSIST on roaring around on the wrong side of the road! Even taxis. Hang on… Who’s that staggering out of that one? Just look at the state of him! Covered in feathers and bird poo – with a scabby looking cat wrapped around his neck and his face all scratched up…

MIKE! MIKE – you come here, THIS MINUTE! It’s no use you running. Mate. You can sprint. But you can’t hide. Not from me. Not in the mood I’m in…

[crystalwizard]

Strange article in the paper today. Seems the police arrested a mad woman who was chasing three tourists down the street screaming something about evil women and penthouses. The oddest thing is that she was dressed in nothing but toilet paper. Had it wrapped around her like some kind of paper toga.

Now, if I could just figure out why Mike's friend Jack is standing outside in the parking lot with that remote control...

[Mike Griffiths]

Holy wow

Why is SJ so angry at me this time? I'm flat broke from flying back and forth across the dang ocean, I finally find her and she is acting like that weird girl inside the TV set in the Ring movie. I'm scared. Jack said something about hiding Dahtoe from the authorities, so even he isn't here to help me. All I have is CW's cat digging her nails into my neck.

I lost my piles of slush reading and the book I was soppused to review for Innsmouth. All I got in this laptop and my phone, which is about to be turned off, no doubt. I'm hiding behind a dumpster and boy does it smell. I can hear SJ searching for me, her breathing sounds like a cross between Darth Vadar and an angry yeti.

What is going on? Why has SJ gone nuts? Have those damned Xemmoni finally found a crack in her armor? Well hmmm, I can't give up on her. Not after all we have been through. So here is my plan. After I finish writing this, I'm going to run out there and tackle her and then maybe try to talk some sense into her. If that doesn't work I'm going to toss her into this dumpster until she calms down. She looks like she hasn't taken a bath for a while anyway.

How did I get into this mess? Didn't I just save the world, or at least the Lilly Ponds? I'm nearly a hero and Jack certainly is, well, it you can believe that book anyway. Okay here goes. I know SJ is going to be mad, but I need to sort this out and get my life back into some kind of order. Oh geez I just got emails some new assignments. What Chris wants to publish a Skinjumper book that I hvaen't even written yet. *Sigh* Okay closing this so I can go confront SJ.

Wish me luck.

[SJHigbee]

I’m in the shower. Where I’ve been for the past hour. Sundried tomatoes look smoother than my important bits and pieces, just now… But here is where I’m staying until I get rid of THAT smell. Putrid seafood, doggy doings and mouldy mattress – I’m not going into further details in case you want to eat during the next few hours. Let’s just leave it that whatever made the mattress damp WASN’T water…

I can’t BELIEVE that Mike hurled me into a dumpster! And – get this… his explanation for doing so, was to CALM ME DOWN!!! I’m not sure that reading slush is doing him any good. Let’s face it – he never was the shiniest box of tricks. But I reckon that slush is a reasonably good description for Mike’s brain. Pity Jack isn’t around to snarl some sense at him.

And then CW gets on the phone to him. My goodness, how that woman has Mike wrapped around her little finger. It’s just dire to see how he cringes and whines as she snaps instructions at him. Not that she’s firing on all cylinders. Seems she saw a mad woman dressed in toilet paper, screaming abuse – and thought it was ME… I can’t think when I’ve been more insulted. Fancy ANYONE mistaking Dark Gladys for me! All I can think is, that losing her cat really has deranged her.

It took me three goes before I managed to scramble out of the dumpster. By then, Mike was gabbling away about what a terrible time he’d had – and how he’d had to sell all the copies of his new novel at giveaway prices to raise the money for the airfare – while expecting me to be brimful of sympathy. Then got downwind of me and was promptly sick.

Meanwhile, I’m on my fourth bottle of shower gel… I can still catch a whiff of that stench. This could take some time. Let’s hope I don’t wrinkle further…

[Mike Griffiths]

Well That didn't work

Now I'm waiting outside the shower and see already sent me out to get her more bathing products twice. Yeah, she is pretty mad.

So next I have to get her to go with me to return the cat. I'm a little worried because CW said she has a few 'extra projects' I can pick up when I drop her feline off. Oh boy, looks like I'll be having a full docker for a while. She also mentioned something about a mess a certain seagull made that she was waiting for me to clean. Maybe SJ could help me... naw, I better not ask.

Jack sure is keeping clear of all this. Feeding himself a steady diet of warm cheesesteaks and cold ale no doubt. Lucky son of a- "Oh hi SJ, I..."

I think you call that storming off. "Is there anything I...can...do? Um no, I think that is anatomically impossible."

"Come on SJ. Talk to me please."

57 minutes later

"Come on SJ please stop talking."

"Hey SJ, my friend Zano wants to hire you to work for the Daily Discord. Ow that hurt. Maybe we should go see CW. OW that REALLY hurt. Geez SJ. Hey I got you a present It is one of the last copies of my book."

... "You know they might make me pay for that window."

"Hugs???"

[crystalwizard]

Okay, Mike has some explaining to do. I want to know why half the company's operating budget is earmarked for red roses and a week's stay for two at the Snuggle-bunny resort.

[SJHigbee]

Essential oils. That’s the secret. I’m now smothered in Essential Oil of Lavender, Ylang Ylang and Jasmine. NOTHING can get through that olfactory barrier. There’s a few downsides, of course. It can get a little intense when I’m in a small, badly ventilated room. Dogs have a tendency to faint when they get close.

But right now, I’m in a really good mood. It’s always a fine feeling when you can help out a friend. And when that also involves putting one over on CW – then suddenly life becomes a whole lot sweeter… SFReader Inc has an amazing Computer Room – and some really clever techno-nerds. When keeping out of Dark Gladys’s way, I got to know some of the guys who lurk in there. And when Jack swung by (one of the few people who didn’t reel away, gagging when I was still smelling of dumpsters…), it appeared that he wanted my help.

Apparently – and I’m still having trouble getting my head around this – Jack has decided that CW is ‘one hell’ve a wimmin’. And wants to show his feelings for her… So I came up with the notion of sending them away for a little quality time together in a lurve nest. And who can resist a carful of red roses? Of course, Jack is a bit broke, right now. But CW isn’t… Not when she’s slaving poor old Mike to a shadow of his former self… So, I got my friend in Computers to access CW’s business account to fund Jack’s big flourish.

I did warn him that he should make his move sooner, rather than later… With a bit of luck, CW will be soooo flattered that she’ll succumb to Jack’s rough charm and overlook his raiding her account…

[Mike Griffiths]

Oh yeah this is real fair.

I've been working for for CW for years now and what do I get...a few bucks here and here. The most Jack has ever helped was cleaning the beer he split off a manuscript I was reading and now he gets an all expense weekend paid for by Cyberwizard Productions. The worst part is I'll probably get blamed for this and I'm not even sure Jack is her type. I doubt CW wants to hang out with a snake worshipper, who has a mouth on him that would make a sailor blush.

And were are SJ and I staying, some place that makes Motel 6 seem upscale. I wanted to try to trade places with Jack and take SJ somewhere nice, but that guy is faster than a Mamba and even sharked our wheels. So now I'm stuck trying to scrap a few nickels together to show SJ a good time, so she will forget how mad she is at me. So far the Taco Bell 2 for 1 special hasn't done the trick. Also CW is pretty sharp with computers, so I'm sure we can't raid CWP again either.

Must think, must think, hey where are all those punks going? Oh cool, a punk rock show is jhappening ust down the street. I'm not sure if this is SJ's kind of music, but it should be. I mean, the Sex Pistols are from England right? Punk shows are always cheap, so I'm sure even I can afford this. I'll just tell her I'm going to take her out to see a show. Hmmm, maybe I'll blind fold her, like it is a big surprise and then when we are inside, uh hopefully she'll stay.

"Hey SJ, I have an exciting surprise for you. I'm paying for us to have a night on the town..."

MDG