No update

You've probably figured out that there's no update this week. It's been finals week and I've been too tired. But next week is summer, and I'll be well rested and I'll update at least twice, probably more. In the meantime, here's a pic of me looking stylish.

Ch. 35

Outside, Vlad and Eric discussed their options, and decided to go after Gina. They had the law on their side, but only until they left Indiana. So, the best thing would be to leave Indiana quickly, before the rest of the law caught on. Or something. They decided to take Ringo, because it got amazing mileage, while the SUV guzzled gas like nothing else.
"The key," said Vlad, getting into the car, "Will be to obey traffic laws so we're not pulled over. Do you have control over the-"
"ADD? Yeah, I took my pills," Eric snapped.
"Okay. I trust that you have," Vlad answered with finality, "Anyway, do you know where we're going?"
"To that place in Maine."
"So she gave you directions?"
Suddenly he realized what Vlad was getting at. There hadn't been any need for directons. They had Gina. Without her...
Eric wheeled around back to the police station and got out of the car.
"Chief," he said on his way in, "We've got a problem." He went on to explain the situation, ending with, "So do you suppose you could check with the Portland police department? They'd know about a place like that."
"No," said the chief, "They'd be paid very much not to know about it. However, I may have a lead for you. A report from Ohio. Some kind of altercation in a hotel parking lot. The vehicle description matches the one that took your friend."
Eric took the piece of paper Silverstien offered. "Thanks"
"Good Luck," replied the Captian, "And Godspeed."
And they were off, driving as fast as they could while still going under the speed limit.
"Perhaps we should fly," said Vlad, "It's our only hope of reaching there in time."
"There really is no 'in time'," replied Eric cooly, "We'll never beat her there, but once she's there they won't kill her, assuming it's the cult that took her. If it isn't, then we're screwed either way. Our best hope is just to keep going until we find her. But we'll ask around this hotel."
"Alright, Eric. But when we're ready to go to Maine, I think I know how to find the way."
"Vlad, does this involve the lobster?"
"Well, yes."
"You think he can act as a compass and point us there?"
"Yes, actually. How did you know?"
"It just seemed like his style is all."
"Huh. I should probably call Ming about those agents. she can get quite upset, when strange men come into the house and -"
"Good plan," Eric interrupted, "You can use the cell."

Concerning Clams and Cabbages

I did some cleaning today and stumbled upon this. As near as I can figure, I was either just really bored or in a competition with someone to see who could fill a page with nonsense faster (It did fill a wide ruled page, with the diagram). Anyway, for your reading pleasure, here it is.

Clams are widely believed to be a good meal, but a bad pet. A pet clam is not very gratifying. They're not soft to touch, cute to look at or fun to play with. They can do no tricks. You have to keep them in clean water, and regularly feed them whatever it is they eat. All in all, if you have a clam it's probably better to eat it.
The same can be said of cabbages, except that you don't have to keep them in water and you don't have to feed them. They also rot. So, what I'm getting at here is that clams and cabbages are a lot alike, as you can see in this diagram.
So, clams and cabbages are a lot alike. But what does that mean for us? Nothing. It's meaningless. But, this still doesn't qualify as a story. The End.

Note - You probably noticed the way the diagram linked to my geocities page. The evil geocities forbids hotlinking, but I can still use the page to give you cool story graphics like this one. (Ignore the dancing monkey)

Ch. 34

Eric woke up early that morning, refreshed but confused about his bizarre Italian dreams. He called Vlad, but got no answer. As the phone rang, he made an unfortunate realization. He remembered how hard it was to wake Vlad up the last morning. How he could sleep through anything. If he had wanted to wake Vlad early, he should have taken the SUV himself. Just as he was about to give up and hang up, someone answered. But the voice was not Vlad's. It was feminine, slightly annoyed, and decidedly Asian.
"Hello who is this?" she said, all in one breath. Eric noticed the faint sound of baritone arias behind her voice.
"My name's Eric. I'm calling for Vlad."
He was puzzled. Was Vlad married? He didn't have a wedding ring, other than Gina's. Or did he?
"He's sleeping. Always sleeping. The man sleeps like a mountian," at this point she stopped talking to the reciever, but he could still here. "Wake up!," she screamed like he had never heard anyone scream, "Wake up you crazy man! Wake up! Somebody is calling you! Stop singing and wake up!"
The opera stopped. It was replaced by some shouting, this time in both voices. Then Vlad was on the line.
"Eric!" his voice was jovial, a sharp contrast to the shouting Eric had just witnessed. "Are we going so early?"
"We can't let them get to far ahead. Come by and pick me up, we'll go to the police station."
"Alrighty."
"And Vlad," Eric added, "You never told me you were married."
"You never asked." Click.

A little while later, Vlad arrived at the house. Eric climbed into the SUV, Vlad handed him a somewhat bewildered lobster, and they headed off toward the police station.
"So what's her name?" asked Eric, absently petting the crustacean
"Who's name?" asked Vlad.
Eric rolled his eyes. "Your wife, of course."
"Ming."
"She's Asian?"
"Chinese, actually."
And the conversation died. Vlad didn't seem to be overly eager to talk about his spouse, but Eric was determined.
"What does she do?" he asked.
"She's manager at Sears."
"Oh!" exclaimed Eric, finally finding a thread, "So you two met through work?"
"Not exactly." A beat. "In fact, she got me the job."
"Well how did you meet?" asked Eric.
But at that exact moment, they reached the police station. Vlad parked wordlessly and got out of the vehicle. Inside, Captain Silverstien was waiting for them.
"Gentlemen. Good to see you. Things didn't go as well as I planned, and the Feds obtained warrants to search your houses. You may want to leave right now, assuming you've got nothing to hide."
That was a lot to take in.
"I hope for their sake," Vlad said, "They arrive after Ming leaves the house."

Ch. 33

That night, to the softly played recording of Don Giovanni he'd found, Eric slept, hoping to acclimate himself to sleeping near Vlad.
Not far away, Vlad slept, singing an altogether different opera at a much louder volume.
Even less far away (about four feet, in a separate twin bed) Ming slept, screaming at Vlad the whole time. When they'd first gotten married she'd screamed at him to stop singing, but he was oblivious. Now she screamed so much she did it as naturally as he sang.
Next door, a gentleman named Bryce Hill was not sleeping. He was the 12th tenant to own this house since the Bergljotssens had moved in, last year, and suddenly he understood why. Who could sleep through the singing man and the screaming woman? How could they stand each other?
A mile and a half away, captain Silverstein was not asleep, because the damn feds were three hours early. 'I should've gone home,' he thought, 'Now I'll have to talk to them tonight.'
There were two agents - A short white man and a taller black man. They were wearing business suits and smug expressions, like all the feds. The shorter guy spoke first.
"Chief Silverstien. Working late, I see."
"Must be all the coffee and donuts keeping me awake," he snapped back.
"Now, now chief," said his companion, "You don't need to get all defensive just because real cops are around."
"It's a good thing for you I'm too mature to hit back."
"That's a good one. I'll remember it next time I'm to slow to think up a come back." he replied.
"Look," said the chief, fed up (no pun intended), "Here are the files on the kidnapping. When you're finished acting like little kids and feel like fighting some crime I'm sure they'll come in handy." He headed for the door.
"Now, chief," the shorter man broke in in that condescending tone, "All your professionalism is giving us a headache. We haven't even introduced ourselves. My name's Mr. Sweeney and this is Mr. Stuart."
"And since, as you so keenly pointed out, you started the conversation not by introducing yourself but by saying my name, you already know it. Now that the pleasantries are over, I'll leave you to the files. I trust you know at least enough about being a "real cop" to be able to lock up the station."
Mr. Stuart looked up from the files.
"Where might we find this Eric character?" he asked.
"The address is on there."
It was Sweeney who answered. "You're not holding these guys?"
"No, but I'm recommending that you take them with you to find the girl."
"That may be how you do things here in Indiana," he said the word as if it were some kind of vermin, "But we don't like prime suspects to be anywhere but in cells."
"They're not suspects. Their story checks out 100%."
Mr. Stuart replied. "If it's all true than they're all three crazy, and we can't trust them riding along. If it's not true than they're hiding something, and I think that's enough to obtain a warrant."
"Good thinking, Ted," replied Sweeney, "We'll check they're houses tomorrow. In the meantime, Mr. Silverstein, hopefully you can atleast be trusted to keep them from leaving the city."
"You can be sure," he replied diplomatically, "That I will perform my job exactly as it should be performed. Good night gentlemen."
And he left, to finally sleep.