TNT: Ch. 59

Gina was feeling severely underdressed. Sam had somehow produced an amazingly stylish and well-cut suit, but she had packed nothing nice. She was in a tank top and a floor length skirt - the skirt was ok, but she didn't feel nearly dressed to his level - or like the journalist she was supposed to be. And she felt very stupid scribbling things in a notebook when she was supposed to be on a date.
But then, she'd never really been on a date.
"This place is cool," said Sam, "You pick a batter and some toppings and you can make your own pancakes right here on the table." He gestured at the flat black depressions in the middle of the table.
"Pancakes for dinner?"
"Why not? I'm still technically on vacation."
"I thought you were one of the lawyers."
"Well, I am a lawyer so it would have been superfluous to hire one. Let me start at the beginning."
He paused for a moment to let the waiter set down their drinks - he had a beer and she'd asked for iced tea.
"I've been coming here every year to dive in the summer for years. I don't dive to look for anything, just because I enjoy it. Seeing underwater caves and stuff, it's exciting. And it's athletic too, swimming with all the gear on. Anyway, about 4 years back I started coming at the same time as this other guy - James Brixon. He's an older guy, a family man. I think he's an electrician. Anyway, we've been diving together since then - for the company. This year, about four weeks ago we were diving pretty deep and we found a tiny passage we'd never noticed before. It took us two or three well planned trips to get in there, with a flashlight, but when we did we found these springs - tightly coiled, only a couple of centimeters long. Five or six of them. Now I know everybody thinks we're crazy, but these aren't ordinary strings. For one thing they've been down there a long time and they haven't rusted. But there's also, I can't explain it, hey!"
"Hey?"
"Isn't that your boyfriend at that other table."
Gina whipped her head around behind her in the direction of Sam's finger. There was a menu covering his face but she recognized Eric's build and the shirt he'd been wearing earlier in the day.
"No," she lied unconvincingly, "Eric's off doing his own interview. And he's not my boyfriend."

Eric didn't see any reason why he shouldn't try out the famous restaraunt at the springs, as long as he didn't share a table with Sam and Gina. He wasn't keeping an eye on them, he told himself. That would be silly. He was just going to eat at the same restaraunt. If he happened to catch the odd glimpse of them throughout the course of the evening, then so be it. And he'd only asked to move to a different table because of a bad draft, not to get a better view.
'I am a horrible liar, even to myself," he thought as he pulled the menu up in front of his face.
The couple was conversing quite smoothly, smiling a lot and laughing from time to time. Gina's manner seemed even more relaxed then usual, the notebook and pencil seeming oddly natural in her hands and the man, now in a well tailored suit instead of swim trunks, looked the perfect date; the dictionary definition of "better then him." He had to keep reminding himself it was a business dinner. Why did that feel like lying to himself as well?
"Can I get you anything?" asked the waiter, "Something to drink?"
"Oh, right. Milk - No, beer. Naturally."
The waiter chuckled. "What kind?"
He stared blankly at the list. He didn't drink beer. Why had he ordered it? To look tough in front of the people who weren't supposed to know he was here?
"On second thought I'll stick with milk."
The waiter stifled another laugh with an obviously fake cough.
"Alright. I'll be back with that in a minute."
Eric put the menu back up over his face when he saw Sam gesturing his way, but he feared it was too late. He'd been spotted. It was too small a restaraunt.

Sam shrugged at Gina's explanation. Their waitress asked if they were ready to order.
"We're gonna make pancakes. We want the wheat batter, and the lady here can pick the toppings."
She smiled, surprised. "Well let's do, hmm... Strawberry's and Blueberry's. You like berries, right?"
"I like them just fine if they make you happy."
She blushed. "Mr. Stalwart! Now go on, finish you're story."
"Well, there's not a whole lot more to tell. The springs are worth holding onto, it's hard to explain why. But the park wants them for itself, who knows why. I don't know how they even found out about them."
"Do you really think they're DeLeon's springs of life?"
He laughed out loud.
"James came up with that one. Dumbest thing he could have done. Brings a horde of media here, helps the State's claim by establishing it as our position that the springs are an archeological find, and makes us look crazy. Before that it was an open and shut case. And some weird folks have started showing up, too. Hoping to get a look at them"
"And where are the springs now?"
"You'll understand if I'm not making that info public. Sufficient to say they're safe until the legal process makes them mine."
"Yours?"
"Well, mine and James's of course. Anyway, enough about me, tell me about yourself."
She was put off by his subject change, and besides she wasn't sure what she had to tell that wouldn't weird him out.
"That's not usually how it works in an interview," she said.
"Ah, but this is a date."
"Oh it is?"
"Yeah. I thought it was an interview too, but you're not writing anything down so I can only assume the interview was a pretext for a date."
She glanced down at her blank notepad feeling very stupid. And now she'd have to play along or come clean. Playing along seemed easier, and a date with Sam didn't seem like the worst fate.
"Alright, well, I have to warn you my story's a little weird..."
"I'm eager to hear it, but would you excuse me a moment?"

Eric had long ago stopped trying to eavesdrop or spy. As he nursed his milk, he simply reflected on how sad it was that he was here, doing this. He needed to get out more. As a result he was startled by the voice in his ear.
"Milk. Nice choice, Builds strong bones and teeth."
It was that man. He had left Gina alone.
"But you seem to be almost done with it. Why don't you drink up, and give me and your coworker some privacy."
Eric was oddly speechless. The confidence of the quest was fleeting in the face of this man.
"I'm just eating. It's a free country," he finally managed.
"No, you're lurking and you've scarcely taken your eyes off Gina and I since we sat down. She didn't want to hurt your feelings, but I told her I'd take care of it politely and quietly. She wants you to go somewhere else, so she can enjoy her evening. Will you do that?"
Eric sighed. "I was finished anyway," he said, and walked out the back door.

Cold Storage (continued)

"You Bastard. Give me one reason I shouldn't shoot you right now."
He stared Jimmy down, waiting several seconds before responding.
"I'll give you two. Number one, because who's gonna get your goons out of that fridge if you do? You?"
Jimmy didn't back down.
"And the other?"
"Number two, because even you, Jimmy, wouldn't shoot your own brother."
A gasp went up from the still-concious chefs.
"You didn't come here to kill people, Jimmy. If you had you would have armed your guards with guns, not clubs."
"You're wrong, Ed. The clubs were for your staff - most of 'em 'll wake up later with headaches and nothing more. This gun is for you. And I came here to use it."
Jimmy was moving forward, still pointing his deadly weapon menacingly.
"You're right, you are my brother. But that only makes what you did that much worse."
"I couldn't let you kill those kittens, Jimmy."
"Oh no!? You couldn't!?"
BANG!
Jimmy let off a shot at the restaraunt cieling as he gesticulated.
"Of course you couldn't. You always have to be the hero, don't you Ed?"
"I just -" Ed was backed up all the way to the fridge again
"Shut up! Just shut up! You don't get to be the hero this time, ok? You can't save them, and you can't save yourself. This ends here."
Jimmy leveled the gun and aimed.
"You don't have to do this Jimmy!"
"Shut up!"
"You didn't really want to kill those kittens, and you don't really want to kill me."
His face was scrunched up, trying to maintain the look of mad rage, but he couldn't hide the tears in his eyes. He tried to aim the gun and fire, but he couldn't see through the tears. Finally, he cast the gun down, fell to his knees, and began to sob.
As one of his chefs secured the discarded gun, and another called 9-1-1, Ed ran to his brother's side and embraced him.
"I never wanted to hurt anyone, Ed. It all just got out a hand, and it's so much money, and I don't know what to do, I just don't know what to do. I wasn't gonna kill you, I really wasn't gonna kill you. I love you, Ed. I just-"
"There, there. It's okay. It's okay."
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Well that's all I'm going to write of that story. I don't know the rest of it. Anyone is welcome to try to tell the beginning and, if necessary, the end. Maybe I'll even pick it up again.

Cold Storage

Thump.
Another waiter had hit the floor.

Thump. Thump. CRASH!
Two more, one holding a drink tray. This had to stop. A four star restaurant needed a full waitstaff.

"I know you're out there, pally!" the familiar voice called from the other side of the refrigerator doors.
"When I finish with the waiters, I'll start in on the chefs, and then the customers. Come on out and it can all end!"
'I bet it can,' he thought, 'It can all end.'

Thump. fizzzle. "Argghhhh!"
Someone's face had hit a hot toreen of soup of or something.

It was getting cold. He should never have hidden in the fridge, but it was the only place Jimmy wouldn't dare to look. He grabbed a strawberry out of a box and ate it. What was he going to do?

Thump.
"I ain't kidden, bud! Get the hell out hare and nobody else gets hurt!!"
Thump-Thump.
"That's all the waiters Eddy. I'm given you twenty seconds before I start in on the chefs. Jesus! I know you're in here!"

His hand reached for the door, but he pulled it back. He wouldn't give Jimmy the satisfaction. A new voice spoke, more timid and reserved.

"Ed... He's serious. He's gonna kill people, Ed. Please, come out. Do it for me." It was Bob, the restaurant's head chef and oldest employee. Ed could hear the fear in his voice.
"Please, Ed, plea-"
Thump.

That was it! He flung the door open, and the whole scene opened up before him. Waiters were lying all about the kitchen - Hugo, Leopold, Jesse, Samson. Men he'd hired and trained. Men who were polite and gave good tips. And in the middle of it all, with Bob's crumpled form at his feet, was Jimmy. He looked exactly as he had 12 years before, when this had all started, save a scraggly beard and the addition of two huge goons with clubs. Jimmy still clutched his signature handgun, and the look of fear on his face told Ed everything he needed to know.
He chewed and swallowed another strawberry while the room watched, paralyzed.

"You want me, Jimmy? Come in and get me."
Jimmy didn't move. Ed knew why. Jimmy's fear of refrigeration went back to his father's untimely death. His face betrayed the conflict between looking weak in front of his men and facing his greatest fear. And then, as Ed knew it would, it dawned on him that he didn't have to.
"Go in and get him, boys."
The huge goons lumbered towards him, picking up speed as they neared the fridge. He knew he'd only have half a second, but he was confident it was all he needed.

Closer...
Closer...

He leapt between the two goons, rolling past them as they crossed the threshold into the fridge. He'd made it! But he didn't stop to congratulate himself. Springing up, he slammed the huge metal door, locking the goons in cold storage. He slammed the lock down.
"This is between us, Jimmy. Let's leave the help out of it."
Jimmy finally found his voice, and raised his gun.
"You bastard. Give me one reason I shouldn't shoot you right now."

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Hell of a time for the bell to ring, eh? maybe I'll finish it later.

TNT: Ch. 58

(100th post! )

Eric and Gina walked out of the bathrooms at exactly the same time, looked at each other, and laughed. Eric had changed into a bathing suit and Gina was back in her ordinary clothes.
"I decided you were right so I bought a-" he said.
"I was a little rash, so I thought I'd-" she said at the same time.
They paused.
"So , swimming or work?" she asked.
"Go take your clothes off again," he replied
"Hey, now," Gina laughed, "That wasn't an option."
Eric blushed. He obviously had intended no innuendo.
"I just meant, we can go swimming. You're right; there's no big rush."
"Well thanks. I'll go change. Listen, I already nabbed our first lead. I met one of the discoverers of the springs. I'm interviewing him at the restaurant at six."
"I'll make sure I'm free."
"No, I think it'll go better if I handle it alone."
"I see." Eric paused. "This wouldn't be the same guy you were flirting with after you ran off, would it?"
"I wasn't, I mean, well yeah, he does seem to like me, and we can work that to our advantage if I go alone."
"Nice of you to put the quest first like that," said Eric disbelievingly.
"Eric, don't be like that. You know I'm right. Now I'm gonna go change."
He sighed as she turned around. She was right, but that didn't mean he had to like it. He felt like Gina should be his. He'd risked everything for her, to rescue her. And she's kissed him and it just seemed like they belonged together.
Yet they didn't really have a relationship. She didn't really have any kind of obligation to him romantically. In fact, maybe she didn't think about him that way at all.
He turned his mind toward the quest. He was worried about getting the springs. In this case they were caught between two sides who desperately wanted them for themselves. It wasn't going to be easy, coming in and demanding them for themselves. And he didn't have any kind of a plan. He figured once they did all the fact-finding something would come up, but there was really no way to be certian.
Gina came out of the bathroom, clad once again in her bikini.
"I should warn you, the water's awfully cold."
"Yeah, I got that impression." He stifled a laugh at the memory of watching her try to hide her shock.
She glared at him.
He glared back.
Despite her best efforts, her grin turned slowly to a smile.
His followed suit, and pretty soon they were both laughing.
"Race you to the water!" Gina yelled suddenly, and took off. The quest, Eric thought as he ran after her, could wait a little while.

TNT: Ch. 57

Sam slammed the 20-year-old copy of "Florida Property Law" shut, sending up a cloud of dust. He couldn't take this anymore, lawyering work on his vacation. He could feel the sun on his skin and see the vacationers happily playing in the springs. Countless towels were strewn about the lawn like his, their owners buried in a book, but he was pretty sure the other books were more interesting than his. They were reading for fun.
He had thought that coming here to do the work would make it feel less like work, but it was having the opposite effect. Now he needed only to look up to see exactly what he was missing. He sat back for a minute to take in the sights and sounds. He saw a group of teenagers roughhousing around the rocks at the deep end of the spring, and the lifeguard eyeing them cautiously. He saw two old women who should not have been out in public in their skimpy bathing suits swimming across the center. He saw some divers setting up for a deep dive (since the discovery the place was crawling with them).
That should be me out there, he thoguht, diving, swimming, doing the things I love. He would have been able to beat the state lawyers; wasn't even worried. However he'd just heard that they were hiring special lawyers for this one. Some of the biggest firms in the area. He was out of his league, and couldn't afford to play.
Just as he moved to get back to work,Sam heard an argument from over his shoulder.
"...no big rush! We can take a swim now, get the feel for the place, and start talking to people tomorrow."
"You're not taking this very seriously, Gina. We're not here on a vacation."
"The sun is hot, the water is beautiful, and some of us didn't forget to pack a bathing suit, so I'm going in."
And then he saw her. She bounded past him, a perfect figure in a modest but very flattering purple bikini, as the other voice, a male voice, yelled.
"Fine, have a great time. I'll be out here getting to work!"
He watched as the beautiful girl jumped into the freezing water and cringed as she screamed. She'd get used to it soon enough though, and then she'd be having a much better time than he was. He glanced up at the man who'd been fighting with her- a scrawny, nerdy guy. Was that what this was turning him into? A day like this and a girlfriend like that, and all that guy cared about was work? Sam wasn't going to have it. He stood up, grabbed his suit and headed for the bathroom to change.

The water was freezing. The Florida atmosphere had tricked her into expecting pleasant water, but the spring water was freezing. Gina screamed. She shouldn't have jumped in like that, but she couldn't get out while Eric was still watching. At least, she thought he was. Her view was obscured by a guy getting up and getting something out of his back. Yep, there he was, still watching her. She felt a tinge of guilt for fighting with him like that, but she desperately needed to have some fun, and Eric had gotten so serious lately.
It wasn't that she didn't care about the quest. She was caught up in it, and even if she didn't care much about toasters she cared about Eric and she cared about the people who had rescued her, and she wanted to make this work out. But she didn't see what the big ticking time bomb was, why they had to work all the time. She needed to relax. Still, the freezing cold water would have been more fun with Eric.
She swam around a bit, trying to have fun, but after a few minutes she decided to go find Eric and apologize. She climbed out of the water, and nearly screamed again. Now the air felt almost as cold as the water did before, and she hadn't brought a towel. As she stood there shivering and considering her options, a young and very handsome man walked up to her, profferring a towel. He said some things that were totally lost on her as she took in his swim-trunk clad body.
"What?" she said, looking up.
"I said you looked like you might need this."
"Thanks," she smiled, taking the towel and wrapping it around herself like a cloak, "I didn't think it would be that cold."
"It looked like you were less concerned about thinking and more concerned about winning."
"Winning?" she asked.
"The fight with your boyfriend. I saw most of it from up there. I have to thank you, your little tiff reminded me of how much I've been letting my work get in the way of having a good time here."
"Well, you're welcome I guess," Gina replied, "And he's not my boyfriend."
"Oh," said the man, not looking entirely surprised, "He's your...?"
"My friend. And we work together."
"What kind of work?"
For some reason she didn't feel like telling him the truth of it. She didn't want this nice, helpful, good-looking man to think she was crazy. At least not yet.
"We're journalists. Researching a story - the whole springs-of-life thing."
"Well then you're lucky you met me." He smiled. "I'm Sam Stalwart, head lawyer for the defense and one of the discoverers of the springs."
"I'm Gina. I obviously don't have a pen or paper on me, or I'd start the interview now."
"That's okay," he said, "Gives me an excuse to see you again. How about I meet you at that restaurant tonight at six?" He gestured toward the structure next to the spring.
"Well, alright. We'll be there." She turned to go, but he put a hand on her shoulder.
"Condition of my exclusive interview: You handle this one yourself. Your friend can find someone else to interview at six."
"There's no other way you'll do it?"
He shook his head.
"Then I'll see you at six." She smiled, folding up his towel and handing it to him before walking off toward her car.

Mortimer Meets a Maiden

The search for food did not go especially well. From atop Narrin Mortimer surveyed the land looking for a quick but filling bite to eat. Finally, he spotted a traveler stopped at the roadside. Perhaps he could share his lunch. So as not to scare a potential friend, Mortimer set down on the other side of a bend in the road and rode up to the traveler.
He, it turned out, was a she. The woman had beautiful blonde hair and delicate features, but wore tough hide-armor (it looked like dragon-hide, but that was highly unlikely) and a heavy traveling cloak.
"Ho there, traveler!" said Mortimer.
The woman snorted.
"I was passing this way, and thought you might be willing to share your lunch with a servant of the Queen, in execution of his duty."
"I serve no queen or king," the woman said coldly, "But if snake jerky is your thing you can have a piece."
Mortimer gratefully dismounted and took the proffered jerky. Snake jerky wasn't exactly his thing, but it was something. It was pretty good stuff, too. Cobra by the taste of it. He noticed that the woman, little more than a girl more accurately, was carefully watching him eat.
"Which queen are you a servant of?" she asked contemptuously.
"The Queen. The queen of this realm."
"Ah. Her. Has that uppity daughter of hers been captured by a dragon yet?"
Mortimer was deeply offended.
"No one in the Queen's court is captured by anything on my watch. I am Mortimer Lima Bean, son of Dietrich Lima Bean, latest in a long line of royal protectors."
The girl was silent for a moment, pondering his words as she pensively chewed her snake jerky.
"Well good for you. I wouldn't protect that girl. Of course, if you did let her get nabbed you'd have to marry her."
"Oh, not I. I'm no knight. But how do you know the Queen's daughter? No offense, but you don't seem like anyone she'd be acquainted with."
The girl considered for another moment.
"In my youth I travelled in different circles then I do now."
"And in what circles do you travel now?" he asked.
"If you've had your fill of my jerky, I'll be off," she said, packing up her lunch, "I'd offer you some peach nectar but I've gone and drunken it all." She hopped onto her horse, a fine stallion. Mortimer rode alongside her.
"Good job dodging my question."
"Thanks. I've had practice. I fed you, now buzz off."
"You don't fancy someone to talk to?"
"No." She quickened her horse's pace to a faster trot. Mortimer followed suit.
"Your armor is very fine. Is it real dragonhide?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Really?" he asked in disbelief.
"No, I was lying," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "After all, how could a pretty little girl like me slay a dragon?"
She was at least smart enough to know that dragonhide armor could only be worn by the one who'd slain the beast. He was beginning to believe she'd even done so.
"You slew a dragon?"
She sighed. "Yes, I slew a dragon. I'm on my way to slay another. I'm a dragon slayer."
Mortimer couldn't help laughing.
"A girl dragon slayer!?"
She brought her horse to a sudden halt, wheeling it around Narrin. Her voice took on a new edge.
"Yes. I'm a girl dragon slayer. And yes, I'm a princess seeker."
"Then you-"
"And, NO, I'm not a lesbian."
"Then why-"
"I'm going to tell you the whole story, Morty, if you promise to leave me alone when I'm done."
He considered it for a moment, and then agreed. The woman dismounted and sat down on a rock, motioning Mortimer to do the same.
"I was born in the kingdom of Desix, a long way from here. I was born Princess Madison, first daughter of King Vem and Queen Leslie. Yes, I was a princess. I enjoyed it very much - the finest clothing and things, gold when ever I wanted plus a regular allowance of it, the respect of everyone in the kingdom. When I reached my twelfth birthday I thought there wasn't a single bad thing about being a princess. That's when my parents gave me the talk.
"'Maddy,' they said, 'You're growing up. Soon you'll be a teenager, and things will start to change. Your body will change. Boys will start to notice you. And, if you're very lucky, you'll get carried off by a dragon.'
"They told me not to worry about the boys- I should just have them locked up if they bothered me, unless they were rich in which case I should tell mother immediately. But I was much more worried about the dragon. Father said I had nothing to fear. He'd met my mother by rescuing her from a dragon. For generations our princesses found husbands by being captured by and rescued from a dragon. If no knight could defeat the dragon, father would pay the dragon's ransom and I'd be free. If a knight did defeat the dragon, I'd have the strongest husband in the land.
"Well the system seemed okay from all that. It was not until I started talking to other princesses that I learned the truth of it. It seemed all the princesses around me had ended up with wretched husbands.
"'Sure he slew a dragon,' they'd say, 'But can he cook? Is he ever home? Is he good in bed? Has he ever read a poem?' More often then not, the answer was no. Slowly I realized this was the dumbest arranged marriage system ever, and my time was running out. I was 15, and some of my friends had been carried off at 17. So I decided I would not be married off, because I would slay the dragon myself.
I started saving my gold allowance, and making up excuses to ask for more as often as was believable. I employed a stableboy friend I'd made, Jerrod, to hide it for me in a cave not too far from the castle. After there was enough I snuck out one night, and he and I set a booby trap at the cave entrance. I bought a long knife and under Jerrod's guidance learned to use it, as well as to carefully conceal it on my person at all times.
Just when I was beginning to think I would break the cycle and not be captured, it happened. I was out playing croquet and a dragon swept down and plucked me up. My parents and the whole palace guard were right there, and they just let it happen. As I was carried I heard my mother scream "Good Girl!"
The dragon turned out to be quite personable. He apologized profusely for carrying me away and confessed that it was the only way he knew of to get gold, and he had children and a future to look after.
My plan had been to lead him to the cave of gold and then catch him in the trap, but I couldn't do it after he'd been so nice. And I didn't want to wait around for the knights to kill him and marry me. So I told him where the cave was, and decided not to set off the trap, in the hopes that he'd just let me go.
He was suspicious, and, thinking I was planning to escape while he was gone, took me along. As he entered the cave, I saw that Jerrod had already set the trap. I tried to warn the dragon, but it was too late. He was caught.
As the spikes stuck into the dragons sides, he let me go and I rolled out. His personable disposition was gone, and suddenly he was the raging dragon of all those storybooks. Enraged, he broke free of the trap. He was too fast for me to escape, so I decided to fight. I pulled out my knife.
The battle was difficult, but I eventually prevailed. The dragon was fighting injured and caught unawares; confused by the prospect of fighting a princess, which he'd always before been told not to harm. As he lay dying, he commended me, saying I "fought like the bravest knight." It was a bittersweet compliment.
I returned to the city, expecting to be greeted by a parade like the ones that the knights received when they slew dragons. There was nothing. Right there in the city square, my parents reprimanded for my foolishness and declared that I would never find a husband."
She was beginning to break down. Mortimer reached his hand out, but she batted it away.
"It gets worse. Right when I thought I could take no more, Jerrod stepped forward, in full armor I'd never seen before.
'Your majesties,' he said, 'I rescued the princess. I set the trap that helped her slay the dragon, so I will take her hand in marriage.' It was the ultimate betrayal. All the time I thought he understood my need to be free of the system, he was just another stupid knight who wanted to marry me. I left the city and I never spoke to him again. I've never trusted another man since. Myself, I decided I would help all the princesses in my situation. I officially denounced my crown, found an armorsmith and brought him to the dragon's cave. I offered him howevermuch gold he wanted to make me this armor. Since then I've slain half a dozen dragons, and rescued even more princesses. Not one has been grateful. They have all reacted like my parents did. They don't deserve my help, but at least I won't stab them in the back and try to marry them." She fel silent
"That's a sad tale," said Mortimer.
"Tell me about it."
"Well, we don't use the dragon system here. I wouldn't here of it."
"So typically arrogant. And who's taking care of dragon-related decisions while you're out here?"
"I have a very competent assistant. I'm telling you, there's no work for you in this kingdom."
"Well, truth be told, I've been taking on other jobs to earn some cash. The gold stash got looted, and slaying beasts is my only skill. I don't suppose you need any help in that area?"
"I'm pretty good at slaying things myself. I'm actually heading to the Mindor Shrine."
"Eww! Why would you ever go there?"
"I'm going to Hell, and that's the only way in that you can get out by."
"That's true enough. Well, I won't follow you into Hell, but should you have a non-underworld related beast slaying need, here's my card."
Mortimer pocketed the business card and hopped onto his steed again.
"Until we meet again, Madison Dragonslayer. Thanks for the jerky and the story."

TNT: Ch. 56.5, which is too short to be a chapter in its own right

Rubbing his tired eyes in the dim light of his study, Master Lin read the prophesy one more time. There was no mistaking it. The meaning was clear. And when Eric called, he couldn't tell him about it.
Three tests, the prophesy said. Eric would have three easy chances to give up on the quest, to turn his back on the dream of a righteous toaster. Perhaps they had even happened already. Master Lin thought he might even know who was behind these tests. He was certian he had identified the man behind Gina's kidnapping, and he feared the two might be related. A very powerful force, it seemed, didn't want this toaster created. Of course it only made sense. The perfect toaster would never need to be replaced by an unhappy customer. The perfect toaster would never ruin grain products, forcing customers to buy more before they'd eaten any. The perfect toaster, it seemed, was bad for business.
And so Eric would face the consequences. Three tests, each worse than the one before, and he could only barely hint at them lest he seal their fate. If only Eric would call.

TNT: Ch. 56

"I'm sorry, Melissa, but this doesn't make any sense."
Melissa sighed. "You're telling me there's no budget for recovering stolen property?"
"I am saying I don't get why you care. They are freaking springs. I will buy you some from the hardware store. This is not a major archeological find." John held up a newspaper.
"Did you see this, Melissa? The world is laughing at us. I'd like to know why they aren't laughing at the idiots who found the springs and leaving us alone."
"John, this department isn't a democracy and I'm not a lunatic. I have my reasons for wanting to make sure we keep these springs. What I asked you wasn't whether you thought we should, but whether we had the resources to do it."
John flung his pencil across the room.
"Yeah, we do. There are a lot of other projects we could better put the money too, but nothing priority. If you really want to do this I guess we're doing it."
"Good. See to it. I'm going home."
But Melissa Hastings didn't go straight home. For some reason, she decided to take a walk through her park, through the wooded walking trails. She didn't see the trench coat-clad figure follow her in.
She walked down the path. She knew it well and walked on a path she knew would give her time to think but get her out pretty quickly. She knew at some point it would loop around, and when it did she saw the man in the trench coat, fedora pulled down over his face, sitting on the rock.
"Hello again, Ms. Hastings," the man said.
She was actually glad to see him. She was going to make a stand, and tell the man exactly what she meant.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm not helping you this time. It's irresponsible of me to commit this much of the department's resources to a project you've given me no justification for. Thank you for your help, but our partnership is over."
The man was silent for a moment.
"Such a pity. I have already hired a team of private lawyers on your behalf who had agreed to show up tomorrow and begin working on the case. My superiors were going to pay their full fee. But I suppose if you can't be bothered I'll have to take the money to those divers. Perhaps they can be persuaded to part with the springs."
"You... You've hired lawyers? Well, I guess that changes things. I guess we can carry on with the suit."
"Very good. Tell me, Ms. Hastings, have I ever let you down before?"
She sighed. "Not yet."
"Then just keep trusting me and everything will be ok." He turned and disappeared into the woods.
She didn't trust him, and she wished she could tell John about him, but perhaps this was near the end of the "partnership." Maybe soon she could go back to running her own department.

TNT: Ch 55

James Brixon stared at the swimming pool outside his hotel. He could see the specks that were his family down there; his teenage daughter Lily sitting on a chair reading her book while the littluns played in the water. He should probably join them - it was after all a family vacation.
The lawyers had left an hour ago and he knew he was in good hands and desperately wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon relaxing with his family, but he couldn't get the springs out of his mind. He had seen what they could do, and he could only imagine what dubious use the State of Florida would find for rhem, if they didn't just stick them in a box to be undiscovered again. He would find a real use for them. After all, he'd discovered them, he and Sam. They were the ones who'd been coming here every year diving in the same spring, deeper each year. They were the ones who found the secret rock shelf, and saw the glint of mysteriously unrusted steel. The Springs of Life were clearly theirs to have.
James hated the lack of control. Sam was obviously the one qualified to handle this. He was a lawyer. But he was only 25 - a kid. And James wasn't sure how far he trusted him. I mean, they'd been coming here at the same time and diving together for six years, but how well did he really know Sam? Well, better than any other lawyer, and at least Sam was doing it for relatively cheap. Ha! How money is relative, he thought. Sam's relatively cheap rates, if they lost this thing, would be a serious blow on the family. With Lily heading off to college in a year, one of the cars on the fritz, and Jimmy needing braces, they simply couldn't afford to lose the case.
The sound of the hotel door opening and the beep of the keycard startled James from his reverie. His wife, Connie, had entered, looking surprisingly good in her one-piece and white towel for a women of 46.
"James," she said, "You should come out and play with the kids. Chase really wants to play that game with you, you know the one-"
"I know," he said. "I guess I'll go get my suit on."
"How did the meeting with the lawyers go?"
"I don't trust lawyers, Connie. I never have."
"Well what about Sam?"
"Sam's a nice boy and a good diver, but when he puts on that suit it's like he's a different person. He gets all lawyery."
"Well, Dear, we can always just call it off and head ho-"
"No!" James nearly screamed. There was a stunned silence.
"No," he repeated more calmly, "This is really important, honey. If we can get these springs it'll all work out. I know it."
"Will it pay our legal fees? Will it get Lily through college? Fix the car?"
"I don't know, ok? I just know we have to get them. They're ours rightfully and we have to get them. Just trust me. Now I'm going to get my suit on and go swimming."

TNT- Ch. 54

It was about 20 minutes later that Eric burst into the dining room.
"We got it Vlad! We found the lead - it's in Florida!"
"Is it now?" asked Vlad, startled by the sudden interruption to the Berljottsennian breakfast conversation.
"It is," said Gina, "DeLeon Springs - listen: Legal Dispute Arises over 'Springs of Life' - Mike Dodson, Associated Press - Legend has it that Juan Ponce DeLeon, the discoverer of Florida, searched his whole life for the Spring of Eternal Life (also popularly referred to as the Fountian of Youth). Now a small group of believers near DeLand claim they know why - the name, they say, refers to metal coils and not to a fountian of water. And furthermore, they say that they've found the springs in a cave beneath the popular tourist location of DeLeon springs.
"These are definitely the springs DeLeon was looking for," said James Brixon, one of the divers who discovered the springs, "Their life giving properties are obvious."
The group has refused to release proof or any specific details about the springs' properties, but this has not stopped a dispute from arising over ownership.
"Of course we don't believe these springs have magical properties," said State Park Ranger Melissa Hastings, "But they do seem to be rather old and they were found within the park grounds. They're clearly the property of the state of Florida." - It goes on for a while, but that's the important stuff."
"That certianly sounds promising. When do we leave?" asked Vlad.
"As soon as we can," Eric cut in, "We have to get there before the legal dispute is over if we're to have any chance of getting them for ourselves."
"But we have no claim to them at all!" exclaimed Vlad, "We have absolutely no legal standing in this case."
"We'll think of something," said Gina, "But we should really head out right away."
"About that," said Vlad, "Do you think you two can handle this one without me?"
Eric and Gina were taken aback.
"What?!?" they said in unison.
"My whole family is here. I haven't seen them all in a long time. I care about family. Why back when I was a wee boy and we'd just come to this country, we still had family in the old country. We wrote to them all every week, even if there was nothing to say. Even when we hadn't gotten a reply for many weeks and then we got a reply from Uncle Sven telling us to please stop sending things to him, we kept writing. Why? Because family is important to us. Now I consider you like my family now, but my real family is returning to the old country for a family vacation, and I can't leave them. Plus, I can investigate that tongue. Remember, I told you about the tongue? It might be the Golden Handle. I was hoping you guys could come along, but you've got to get those springs."
There was silence (a very odd experience for most of the Berljottsens) for several seconds.
"Alright," said Eric, "We'll just get packed up and head out. We'll keep the cell phone, you keep the lobster, ok?"
"Ok. You are not angry with me, are you, Eric?"
"No, Vlad, we're not angry. This is just the way it has to be. Keep in touch, we'll meet up in a week or so."
So Eric and Gina packed up, said goodbye to the family Berljottsen, and jumped into the Ringo Harrison, feeling like the little car was as big and empty as Iceland itself.

???

The motorcycle weaved through the traffic jam like threads on a loom. Screaming to the world with its lime green exterior, it seemed to know just when, where, and how much to turn. The minute it would seem there was nowhere to turn there the opening would be and the motorcycle would just slide through, as if it had always known it would be there.
In, out, in, out; it moved among all 5 lanes of the intersection. The drivers angrily honked and yelled at the mysterious driver, clad in tight black leather and a jet black helmet that revealed nothing of the biker’s face. Presently, the rider looked up, directly at Charlie and waved. Charlie dropped the binoculars in surprise.
“Todd, Todd, come in!” Charlie shouted into his shortwave.
“Copy.”
“Todd, she waved at me!”
“The biker chick?”
“Yeah! Looked right up at me and waved, didn’t miss a beat.”
“Maybe she just likes helicopters.” Todd was annoyingly calm. Why didn’t he see it?
“Todd, this chick’s been cruising through a traffic jam at 15 clicks. When would she have had time to scan the sky for helicopters? She knew right where I was, looked right up at me.”
“What’s your point Charlie?”
“She knew I was up here. She knows what’s going on. This isn’t just some Harley trying to get ahead of traffic. She’s coming for us.”
“Journalist?”
“I don’t think so, Todd. I think we have a code red.”
“Shit, Charlie, are you sure?” Todd’s tone had changed completely. “I can’t sound the alarm unless you’re sure.”
“Do it, Todd. And fast. She’s almost there.”

The Mystery Stories (Death in the Elevator)

Several months ago, while bored on the way to Florida by van, I engaged my family in a quite remarkably silly game. We would construct four mystery stories, each of us writing a section of a story and then trading them around and each writing the next section of a different story, without talking about them aloud. But we added a catch: In our mystery stories, the last section would be written first, the first section second, the second section third, and the third section last . The results were as different as they were hilarious; some nearly perfect, others so wrought with continuity issues it makes your head spin. We ended up with two semi-traditional mysteries, a sci-fi mystery, and a love story. I'll be posting these stories over the next several days. So now, without further ado, the first mystery story: Death in the Elevator.

Trent Donovan woke up on the morning of Thursday, October 9th just as he did every other morning. He ate a bowl of Multigrain Cheerios, drank a glass of avacado juice, then looked at his agenda for the day. He was meeting with a client on the 23rd floor of the brand new Swankton Inn. Trent was a private investigator. The client, one Jai O'Malia, was convinced someone was trying to kill him, though Trent wasn't clear on why. The 21-year old gay Scottish banker was a good-natured sort of man, always friendly and ready to help out. In fact, Trent was quite looking forward to seeing him again.
As he walked into the Swankton, he couldn;t help but be consumed by the Swankiness. This went beyond Swanky. It was so elegant , refined, and expensive as to be quite impossible to describe in a single adjective. Trent walked up to the elevator and pressed the call button.
It was quite a long wait, but eventually an elevator showed up. The door opened and Trent walked in. THe elevator was quite fulll already. In the back was a small woman with a bird on her shoulder. Next to her was a portly fellow with a finely trimmed beard and an enormous nose. By the controls was the young elevator boy, and standing opposite him was Jai. A paragon of irrepressible flamboyance, , he was wearing a purple kilt that clashed horribly with his argyle socks.
"Sorry about all this," said the elevator boy, "I'm Johnny and I'm the lift operator. This is the only elevator that goes to 'Tres Cher', the Swankton's unique dining experience, so I'm afraid it's a bit crowded. Also, please watch your step as this was supposed to be a glass-bottomed elevator and the glass doesn't arrive until Tuesday."
Trent edged his way around the gaping hole in the floor towards where Jay was conversing with the portly fellow.
"Well Dr. Bates," he was saying, "That's one way to look at it. But as I always say, better a clean kilt then tattered knickers!"
Dr. Bates forced a laugh, althought he obviously didn't get it.
"Woof," said the bird.
"23rd floor please," Trent said.
"Can do," Johnny replied, "But it may take some time; the elevators been running a little slow ever since the meteor shower."
"I guess that's what happens when you build an elevator in space," Jey commented, wondering to himself why the spelling of his name kept changing.
"When I loaned out the money for this hotel, I told Mr. Bontregger he should put it in Arizona, on the plot of land I was going to sell him that used to be an ancient Navajo burial ground. I ended up selling it to Arizona municipal landfill instead, and probably upset a lot of Navajos in the process."
There was an awkward silence during which the elevator party contemplated the meaning of this shameless exposition.
"So," said Mrs. Bontregger, "You're the man who loaned my husband the money for this hotel in space."
"Ay," said Jéi, in a Scottish accent that did not match the suddenly French spelling of his name.
"Do you know my husband spent four years in prison and lost control of his right leg because of you?" Mrs. Bontregger scolded.
"Whatever do you mean?" Trent asked, suddenly curious.
"I'll explain in the next scene," Mrs. Bontregger promised. And she did.
"Dr. Bates," Trent said, trying to begin a little light-hearted conversation after that unusual exchange, "Did you sprain that ankle playing hopscotch?"
"Golf," he stated quickly, "Eh - nineteenth hole - some hooligan ran into me with his golf cart."
"Are you quite a golfer, then?" Jay asked, returning to an earlier spelling of his name.
"Yes, since I was a... er... wee lad growing up in Scotland."
They wereall pondering how a man could be born in Scotland yet have such distinctly American Indian features. Suddenly, the elevator stopped. The doors opened but there was no one waiting to get on.
"AAEEAAH!! He's Dead!!" screamed an unrecognized voice, "CALL THE POLICE!"
Through the space where the glass was supposed to be , Trent peered out and could see a crowd gathering and the kilt-clad body lying on the ground below. But before he spoke, the elevator doors slammed shut and the elevatorbegan to shake violently. Trent looked from one passenger's face to the next as they all grabbed frantically for the handrails. Neither Jai nor Jay was on board.
The bird flew hysterically from one side of the elevator to the other while Johnny lunged for the controls. Dr. Bates sucked calmly on his lemon popsicle.
"I'll certianly have to complain about this elevator service," remarked Dr. Bates.
"Oh, just shut up and eat your popsicle before you get the floor all sticky," Mrs. Bontregger blurted, "What's become of our Scottish friend, then?"
Trent and Johnny collided as they both reached for the emergency controls.
"Do you have a liscence to operate this elevator ?" demanded the bird.
"I used to be quite an accomplished elevator operator myself," offered Mrs. Bontregger.
"But she had to stop," interjected the bird, "Because of her phlebitis."
The elevator lurched to a halt, and everyone panicked.
Mrs. Bontregger screamed.
Johnny the elevator boy shouted, 'Hey now, that's my job!"
Dr. bates fainted, and Duke began to bark incessantly.
Meanwhile, Trent calmly tied his shoelaces.
"The reason I stopped the elevator," he said cooly, "Is that I have deduced the identity of the killer."
All eyes rested uneasily on the gaping hole in the floor.
"Only one person on this elevator had motive, opportunity, and... what's the other thing?"
"Strength of will?" suggested Mrs. Bontregger.
"Flatulence in the extreme?" tried Johnny.
"No, no! Means, that's it!" Trent went on, "Only one person, and that is our friend Dr. Bates."
"But how, and why?" asked Johnny, nervously eying the unconcious portly physician.
"How? While Johnny was showing us the elevator's light switch, the not-so-good Doctor kicked him into the gaping hole. As for why, that one was a bit trickier. It was Dr. Bates' comment on the game of golf that tipped me off. A real golfer would never have-"
But trent's exposition was cut short by the doctor's abrupt awakening.
"Woof woof," went Duke.
"Nice work, Trent!" said Dr. Bates, "But you'll never take me alive!"
With that he jumped into the very hole with which he had dispatched his victim.
"But Trent," said Johnny, "We're so much closer to the bottom now, he'll survive."
"Iwouldn't count on it, Johnny, You see, while you were calming Duke, I switched the labels on the up and down buttons. In fact, we've been headed not toward the lobby but toward the revolving restaurant. I think our doctor will have a nice, long fall."
And they all had a good laugh and went up (down?) to the restaurant for dinner.

So that's the story! But now comes the fun part - the CHALLENGE! As I post these mystery stories, I'll be running a contest. Whomever accumulates the most points will be the winner, and will recieve one free commission from me - either a story or a paint at Blogg or a guest appearance in the toaster story- their choice. Points will be given as follows. Five points for being the first to guess, in the comments, where the seperation between the writers occurs. Hint: this time one segue is in the middle of a sentence. Ten points for correctly identifying who wrote each section (Myself, Nathan (who writes Proving Ground), our older brother Levi, or our mother). When I post the next story I'll post the winner and the correct answer if it was guessed. This will be the case for every section and then, after the last story, an extra round will be available to rack up more points. Remember, guessing first is part of winning so check back often!

Nuahcerpel 2

When I returned home, I found that my worst fears had been realized.
"M'lad! How couldja let one o' these, these things in here! Were ya that desperate to be rid o' me?"
"My good man! However could you have neglected to warn me about the presence of this creature in your home?"
The nuahcerpel and the leprechaun were locked in some kind of wrestling hold, with the leprechaun trying to bite Lord Godfry, who was holding the leprechaun's head at bay with his arm.
"I, uh, I..." I stammered.
"Well, don't just stand there, do something!" the taller, red clad creature yelled.
"If I could get rid of him, I would have, but..."
At this point something happened very fast. I'm not sure how, but somehow the nuahcerpel got the better of the leprechaun who, quickly realizing he was beaten, promptly vanished. The remaining man got up and dusted off his red overcoat.
"He'll be back," he said, "This is troublesome indeed. He'll be back and he'll bring an army. I am going to need backup."
"Backup?"
"Yes. Though I had hoped to hide out here to get away from this tiresome struggle, I'm afraid that's no longer possible. So, instead, the rest of my family will be here first thing tomorrow morning. We'll be ready when the leprechauns arrive."
"How many people are we talking about here?"
"No more than 15, I should think."
15? I could never handle 15 more people. I struggled to think of an excuse.
"Is there any way you could stay somewhere else."
"I'm afraid not, my friend. The battleground will be here. If only you had told me. Now I must go and prepare."
And he promptly vanished. I was getting very tired of vanishing, but I knew at this point it was my turn. I grabbed my suitcase (still packed from Ireland) and began repacking it with anything I didn't want damaged. If my house was to be a battleground for Yriaf and Fairy folk, I wanted to protect as much of my stuff as possible. Appropriately enough for the mood, thunder crashed ominously as a rainstorm began outside my window. I began to wonder what the battle would entail. I doubted it would just be wrestling. Surely there was weaponry that the magically inclined used. My questions were answered when Lord Godfry came down the stairs with a sword and shield.
"You'll want to take these. I assume you'll be fighting for our side tomorrow?"
"Fighting?"
"Well, you're not just going to stand around are you? I know you only agreed to let me stay, but this is war."
"Lord Godfry, your beef is with the leprechauns, not mine. I'm not going to be a part of your battle. Tomorrow morning I'm leaving the house for a few days. When I come back, I expect this all sorted out."
Lord Godfry looked at me with a hard stare until he finally spoke.
"Go well friend. I hope for your sake we are victorious, because if the leprechauns win they won't leave your home. Goodnight."
I tried to sleep that night but there were popping noises all through the night as Nuahcerpels popped into my house. Several of them showed up in my room, mumbled apologies and walked out. Even the calming sounds of the storm failed to help me sleep.
The next morning I bid Lord Godfry goodbye and left. As I drove off I saw a short green army approach my house from the other direction. I looked forward instead. The rain had stopped and had left behind a near-perfect rainbow. I thought of the research I'd done on leprechauns. If they're all at my house, I thought, then who's...? Aw, what the hell. I drove as fast as I could toward the end of the rainbow. When the road was no longer useful I got out of my car and ran. The rainbow was fading, but the end was in sight. I knew logically this was impossible, yet there it was! And sitting there, at the end of the rainbow, was an unprotected pot of gold.
I picked up the pot of gold and slowly made my way to my car, then I drove to my brother's house, where I'd been planning to stay anyway. Once there, I switched the contents of my suitcase and the pot of gold and took my pot of stuff inside.
"Dave!," I yelled, "I need you to look after this for a while!"
I didn't wait for an answer. Slamming the suitcase of gold shut, I sped off toward my house.
The scene there was terrifying. The battle had not begun. Instead the Leprechauns and Nuahcerpels were lined up on either wall, completely decked out with weapons and armaments.
When I walked in, all eyes went to me. I held up a single gold coin.
"If any of you want to see the rest of this again," I said to the leprechauns, "You'll all get the hell out of my house before I get to ten. 1..."
The leprechauns stood, staring at me.
"2..."
They looked from side to side nervously.
"3...4..."
They began to run. The leprechauns were on my yard by 6.
And from there there's not much to tell. I gave the leprechauns their gold, and they said I could keep the pot. They've still got my suitcase. The nuahcerpels decided just to go home. Ultimately it was one of the strangest experiences of my life.

Coffeestand Love Story

4:30. She had an hour and a half left in her shift. In the afternoon sun, it might as well have been a day. She needed a shower, and a change of clothes, and there wasn't a customer in sight. Every now and then a car would seem to be heading for the stand, but they all turned to leave the parking lot instead. There were hardly any bikes today; it was simply too hot. There had been one though. A boy with messy black hair. The boy came every Thursday (she worked Thursdays and the coffeestand) at about 4. He was sitting alone at the picnic table drinking his Smoothie, watching her. It was odd, a regular customer like this. The coffeestand was mainly for those who happened to be in the parking lot for some other errand and needed to pep up or cool down. But the boy was there every Thursday, working his way through the smoothie flavors. He was up to number 4, wildberry. She wondered idly if he'd stop coming after number 8, seasonal special pomegranate, or whether he'd just start over on the list.

He liked wildberry more than the other three. Or maybe he just appreciated it more in the heat. He shouldn't have come today, not in this heat. No one else was out here. Of course she'd see him looking at her, she'd know he was out here staring at her. But how could he not? Those beautiful curls, framing that face, that smile that made his heart melt. She had to have picked up that he was into her. She had to have already decided exactly how she would shoot him down if he ever got up his guts to make a move. But of course he wouldn't anyway. It had taken him a year and a half to ask out a girl he had every class with in school. He'd never be able to ask out this cute barista. He didn't even know her name.

The boy sipped his smoothie slowly, staring straight out in front of him, at her booth. He wasn't watching her at all, she thought. He's dreaming, staring into space. Just like I am. Only I have to be here to get paid. What's his excuse? He looks so intense. Maybe he's a newspaper food critic. Maybe he's trying to try every smoothie flavor so he can rate them for some article. Maybe I should have been more careful with his drink. She tied her curly blond hair into a ponytail as it had been a few minutes before and looked at her watch again. 4:45. She looked at the parking lot again. Nothing. Finally she got out her cell phone and started on a new game of Tetris. Maybe she could beat her record.

He'd never figured out what it was she did with that phone. The first time he'd thought she was calling someone, her boyfriend perhaps. Of course she would have a boyfriend, why wouldn't she, a girl like that. Everything came back to how foolish he was to be even thinking about her. He looked down at his smoothie. Half gone. Soon he'd finish and go home. He'd miss his chance and bike home, thinking about how discovering a new smoothie flavor was accomplishment enough for the day. And then he'd be back the next week, and the next, until one Thursday she would be gone, or school would start up and he would be gone. It was funny how he knew how pointless it was, yet he kept coming back. He did it, he reasoned, for the smoothies.

She was up to Level 8, but it wasn't looking good. She had gotten a few too many awkward blocks in a row and she was having a hard time making any rows at all. And now it was too late. Game over. She was bored of Tetris. She was bored of the coffeestand too, truth be told. She wasn't bored of the boy. She wondered if maybe she should go talk to him, strike up a conversation. Well, she couldn't do that, but she could call him over. But what if they had nothing in common? What if he came here to do deep thinking and she just interrupted him. She decided just to watch him. It was amazing the way he sat, thinking. She could see the thoughts running through his mind. She wondered what thoughts a boy like that could have that would trouble him so. Oh well, she thought, perhaps I'll never know.

The smoothie was gone. It was over. He got up and walked across the lot to the stand, and knocked on the window, setting his cup down on the ledge. She came, opened the window and took his cup as he headed back to his bike. She would close the window and it would be over.

She sighed when the boy left the cup and walked off. It had been the same the last three times. But this time, as she closed the window, he called to her.
"Hey!"
She stopped, opened the window the rest of the way, and cocked an eyebrow as if to say "Yes?"

He paused. Why had he said hey? What would he say now? Something suave, he thought, something suave.
"That was a really good smoothie," he said, "My favorite flavor so far."
"Yeah," she replied, smiling her sweet smile, "It's my favorite for sure."
"Do you get free drinks, working here?"
"Just one a day."
An awkward silence. This would be it then. HE fastened his helmet and hopped on his bike, just as he heard her say, "Hey!"

She paused. She shouldn't have said hey. It was a stupid question. Well, she'd done it, she might as well finish what she started.
"What do you think about, when you sit out here and drink your smoothies? I see you out here everyday, just staring and thinking. What's it all about?"

He got off his bike and took off his helmet. He kicked down the kickstand and walked over to her, across the lot. This was it. Suddenly he didn't care. He'd come this far and he was going to try this. He would get shot down and it would hurt, but then it would be over.
"It's about you," he said, "I've been coming out here every Thursday since the first day I saw you, drinking smoothies and trying to get up the courage to ask you out."

She laughed. She couldn't help it. The boy was so red. It had obviously not been easy for him to say that and she knew it was horrible to laugh, but she found the whole situation so very funny. All these deep thoughts she had thought she'd read, and he was just another guy. She finished laughing, ran her fingers through her hair, smiled and said,

"So?"
"What do you mean so?"
"Are you going to ask me out?"
He hadn't expected laughter. Right out laughing in his face was the worst thing that could happen, and now she still expected him to go through with it. It was like she was mocking him. He didn't need this. And yet... He'd come this far.
"Yeah, I think I am." He cleared his throat, and she giggled again. He'd hate her for it, but it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.
"When do you get off work?" She checked her watch.
"In 54 minutes."
"Would you like to meet me, in 54 minutes, over at that Chinese restaurant for some dinner?"
"You buying?"
"Sure."
"Ok, then. See you there."

TNT: Ch. 53

Eric rather enjoyed the bike ride out to the city. He had been quite the recreational biker when he was younger, biking easily 10 miles every day. Obviously he wasn't quite as in shape anymore, but he still enjoyed the thrill of the ride, and was pleasantly surprised by the ease with which he made it to the town. He biked around for a while until he finally found a newspaper box. Parking his bike, he put a quarter in the old box, opened it up, snagged a paper - The Willowdale Whisperer - and sat down on a park bench to catch his breath and start looking for clues.
However, midway into his searching he was interrupted by a man in a trench coat and fedora sitting down next to him, his face buried under a paper.
"Are you Eric Smellick?" the stranger asked, not looking at him.
"Who wants to know?" asked Eric.
"I have information about the toaster."
The prophesy said the next clue would be in the news, but maybe that wasn't quite true. Maybe that was just a way to get him here to meet this person.
"I'll bite," he said, "I'm Eric. Whattya got?"
"Your quest isn't worth it - any of it. The toaster can't be made, and Master Lin does not have your best interest at heart. If you continue with the quest, bad things will happen. It's not worth it."
"That's a little unspecific."
"I'm sorry, it's all I can say. Don't go on with it - it's not worth it."
"Why trust a stranger over a proven friend?" Eric asked, but the man was already walking away.
"Don't say I didn't warn you!" he yelled as he walked.
Eric folded up his paper, but it in his back pocket, and hopped back on his bike.

When Eric returned to the house, the whole family was at the breakfast table. Mr. Berljottsen was telling a story about a postal service mix up in his slow gravelly voice. He seemed oddly frail for a man who had produced such robust children.
"...So when we got to the post office," he said, "There were three other -"
"There were four, Ulric - The woman with the dog, the two men with the scarves, and the doctor," Mrs. Berljottsen cut in.
Her husband pondered this.
"Right, so there were four other people there who'd gotten the same letter, and they were all complaining. Well, we didn't think we should butt in-"
"He wanted to push right through the line. I had to hold him back."
"Now that's not right..."
In the midst of this gripping narrative, Eric managed to catch Gina's greatful eye and pull her away from the table.
"Did you get the paper?" she asked, banana in hand, as they entered the parlor.
"Yeah, but something weird happened while I was out. Someone told me not to trust Master Lin; that bad things would happen if we finished the quest."
Gina frowned. "Well, who was it?"
"Didn't see his face. He was being very mysterious. But he knew my name."
"That's weird. Nobody knows we're here, even- Unless we're being followed."
"Could be. We're hardly inconspicuous. Do you think we should call Master Lin?"
"Well, he'd deny it either way, wouldn't he? Let's just look for that clue." He handed her half the paper. "Remember- Springs of life, Golden Handle, Casing of a lost soul."
"Right."

More and More Mortimer

The library had, then, been a dead end. Stashing the useless old book in Narrin's saddlebag, Mortimer hopped on his beloved steed and took off into the air. He knew that even with know working leads, tracking wasn't impossible. In his years of hunting dangerous criminals in the Queen's service he had learned several tricks and, more importantly, made several friends in high places. He was going to see one such friend now.
Far, far from Merk Heeliott, in the mountians of Dublane, she lived in her little stone house. She ate well, did her work, and no one bothered her without bringing a covered dish proportionate to the size of their question. She was Amarayne, the pot-luck Oracle, and Mortimer knew that if anyone could help him, she could.
He flew across the plains and the foothills, stopping the night in an old abandon shepherd's hut. The next day he journeyed into the mountains. As he approached the path to her hut he flew low and brought Narrin to a halt.
"Stay there, girl," he said, dismounting. As he walked up the path he saw the signs - 'Home of the Dublane Oracle,' 'Questions answered for Potluck items' 'Don't come this way without food, seriously.'
Further down the signs got more complicated:

Simple Questions

(e.g. Will my crops flourish this year?, Does she love me?)

Small side dish, relish tray, or jug of ale/ cider/ lemonade

And another:

Hard Questions

(e.g. What's wrong with my goat?, Could she ever love me?)

Small side dish or casserole, small dessert

Then:

Harder Questions

(e.g. How do I cure my goat?, How can I make her love me?)

Large dessert, large side dish or casserole, small main course item

And Finally:

Really Hard Questions

(e.g. How do I find the Sacred Goat of Hapzhorn's fury?, What is love anyway?)

Large meat animal, classy wine, really good fudge

*Please use microwave and refrigerator-safe dishes. The oracle cannot guarantee the return of your tupperware. No quiche, please. Existential questions may remain unanswered without refund.

Behind this last sign was the doorway. Mortimer walked through it to find himself in a dark, smoky room. Against the far wall was a table filled with the food items from earlier in the day.

In front of the door was a bench.

"Sit!" said a mysterious voice from the smoke.

"Nice catch today, Ama," said Mortimer, "Your reputation seems to have spread since the last time I saw you."

The voice changed, becoming less impressive and more incredulous, "Mortimer?... Mortimer Lima Bean?"

"The very same."

Immediately a rotund, middle-aged woman walked around the table to greet Mortimer with a big hug.

"Well, common inside! I'll close shop and we can have some food and catch up. A knight was in here asking about a dragon last week and he brought this exquisite fudge. I've been waiting for someone to share it with!"

"Well, actually I'm here on business..."

"What, the Queen's in trouble?"

"Not exactly. It's about me."

She looked a little surprised but, nonetheless pushed him through the door on the far side of the room.

"Listen," she said, "At least have a glass of wine while you tell me about it."

"You're too kind, Ama."

Inside the comfortably decorated hovel that was the interior of Amarayne's home, Mortimer told her the whole story.

"...So you see," he finished, "I need to know who this Franklin Pierce person is. Can you help me?"

"I'd love to! What did you bring?"

"Bring? We're old friends, I thought you could -"

"Honey, that's a fudge level question. Now I might be able to bump it down to macaroni and cheese for a friend, but I can't give out answers like that for nothing. I'd go out of business."

"I didn't charge when I saved you from those tigers!" Mortimer shouted, incensed.

"You were also saving the Queen, might I remind you, and I have repaid that debt already. Now are you sure you have nothing?"

"I have a few sandwiches I was saving for the trip home," he admitted.

"For a few sandwiches," she said, "And for you, Mortimer, I will give a hint."

"Alright," he replied. A hint was better than nothing after all.

"Ok. You sit tight, have some chips or cookies if you like, and I'll go commune with the Gods and get back to you."

As Mortimer munched his chips, the sounds of chanting, singing, wailing, whaling, fishing, and a weird unidentifiable "SPROING!" noise all drifted into the room. Finally, after 25 minutes, Amarayne emerged. When she spoke it was in the rich, possessed voice Mortimer had heard when he entered.

"The answer you seek is closer than you think. Look to the dead to find it."

"Thanks, Ama," he said.

"No prob, Mort," she replied, her voice normal once more, "And good luck!"

But Mortimer was already atop Narrin, sailing away from the mountians in search of food. He had, after all, just given away his lunch.

Nuahcerpel

Jonah: Thomas I want to write but I don't much feel like working on one of my stories. I need a prompt.
Thomas: You're lost in Northern Iresland
Thomas: A man wearing all red approaches you
Thomas: go from there

I guess I probably should never have gone to Ireland in the first place. I don't know what I expected to find. Little green men hiding their pots of gold behind rainbows? Well, yes. That was what I was hoping for I admit. But any insight into the origin of the mysterious fellow who'd turned up in my pantry last St. Patrick's Day would have been helpful.
The fact is that I did go to Ireland, and now I was lost. Not just "which way do I turn?" lost but "am I actually still in Ireland?" lost. I'd been walking through the hills all day and though they were very picturesque I was getting hungry and tired and desperately hoping for some sign of civilization.
That was when he found me. A man approached me, dressed in the garb of an 19th century gentleman in a full vest and tails (but without the top hat) all in varying (but complimentary) colors of red. He was tall and lanky and had straight black hair, with a clean shaven face and round ears.
"Hello, sir," he said in a rich British accent, "You look to be a tad lost."
"More than a tad," I admitted greatfully, "Could you perhaps tell me how to get home?"
"I could indeed, dear sir, but nothing in this world is without a price. I myself have run into a spot of trouble around here and need a far away place to stay for a spell. Since you look to be a foreigner (an American I daresay) I wonder if you might offer your home?"
Well that certianly was not the fee I had expected, but in many ways I was gratified. After all, I had an extra room since Amelia left, and I wouldn't mind having a guest to take my mind off things. And of course, I thought, he might be some help with the Leprechaun problem. So I agreed.
The man (who introduced himself as Lord John Godfry) showed me that I was not, in fact, very far from a small Irish town where we stayed the night, agreeing to head to the airport in the morning. Oddly enough, this proved unneccessary as I woke up the next morning in my own bed. Confused, I walked downstairs to my kitchen where I discovered Lord Godfry still dressed as before and eating a bowl of Captian Crunch.
"I hope you don't mind," he said between bites, "But I'm not terribly fond of those airplanes so I got us home in my own way, which was after all a tad faster."
"But," I asked incredulously, "How did you -"
"Well, I suppose I should fess up. There are some things I kept from you before my boy. I have a few slgihtly unnormal abilities on account of being, as they say, one of the Yriaf folk."
"The Yriaf folk?"
"Yes, Yriafs, Fles, Ixips, Emongs, and, like myself, the Nuahcerpels."
I was very confused of course. I had never heard of any of these things, so I said so.
"I thought that might be the case," he replied, "Well, have you heard of the Fairy folk?"
"A little bit. Elves and that sort of thing?"
"Exactly. We are the counterbalancing force to the fairy folk - we're just as magical, but we're as different as night and day, and we tend to be on not-very-good terms with them. My people, for instance are the sworn enemies of the leprechauns. That's why I needed to hide out here. There certianly won't be any leprechauns around here. Anyway, it's only for a few days."
Having finished his cereal, he got up to put the box back in the pantry. I stood up.
"Let me get that for you," I said, "You are my guest after all." Taking the Captian Crunch back to the pantry, I found inside the one creature I had least hoped to encounter.
"That's a decent cereal, m'lad, but are ya sure don't want to try some Lucky Charms?"
"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times. I don't like Lucky Charms. Now I need to talk to you. You really need to leave my house."
"You jist want me to leave so ye can follow me to me pot o' gold, but I won't be havin' with it. I'm stayin'."
"I have already removed all the beer and Lucky Charms from the house; I know you're here, and you've ceased to be anything more than an annoyance. Why are you still here?"
At that point, as I knew he would, he smiled mischieviously and disappeared. It was just then that Lord Godfry appeared behind me.
"Whoever were you talking to in here?" he asked.
"I talk to myself, when I'm trying to decide on breakfast," I lied quickly, "It's an old habit."
"I see. Well, I'm going to go check out the sights of the city, I'll likely be back around 11 for tea."
"Can't say I have tea."
"Well, I'll pick some of that up too then. Ta-ta."
And he was off. I supposed he was going to get the money out of the box of silver at the begining of the, of the, whatever the opposite of a rainbow is. It didn't matter. The fact was that I had a problem. Two sworn enemies living in my house, one whom I was honor-bound to harbor and the other that I simply couldn't get rid of. I would have to take care of this somehow. At least work thought I was still in Ireland so I had a few days off. I went to the library and, not surprisingly, found no information about Nuahcerpels. I did do some more research on leprechauns and found nothing especially helpful. At 11:30 I decided to head home.

I definitely promised myself I wouldn't start anything new, so I'm terribly sorry about this. It just sort of happened and I'm not ready to finish it yet.

TNT: Ch. 52

I'm sure I look truly pathetic to all of you right now, raving about my new resolve and then forgetting it after one post. There is in fact a good explanation, which most of you already know. If not, I'll probably write a post about it on WKoL sooner or later. The other reason is that I've actually had the draft of this chapter on my computer for several days, but a plot point I've been trying to work has failed to come together. I had planned to reveal that Ming was not in fact a legal immigrant, and that the FBI had discovered this while searching for Vlad. Ultimately I dismissed this for two reasons: (A) I don't know enough about immigration laws to write it believably and (B) It would be introducing a very serious plotline to my two comic relief characters and I didn't want to do that. So I've rewritten the end of this chapter and I will accomplish what I sought to accomplish with the immigration plotline a bit differently. This is a breakthrough for me as I almost never rewrite in this story; I let it go where it will and try to make it work later.

Sure enough, Eric awoke at 5:45 the next morning, but he wasn't sure whether to wake Gina. He hated the idea of her waking up to find no one there, but he wanted to get into town and get the paper quickly and didn't think it would be kind to wake her. Ultimately he decided to leave her out there while he went in to get the bike.
Erivc thought about the previous night as he walked back to the garage. Gina had certianly seemed less guarded then normal; more feminine. He wondered if this was a residual affect of the drug or if she was just breaking down. He hoped she wasn't breaking down.
But then, her concerns were realistic enough, he thought, getting on the bike and donning the helmet. She was a person without a place now, with her old home now in the dubious hands of her slimy brother. That was one place Eric intended to steer clear of.
The bike handled well on grass and dirt, so Eric thought he'd swing by Gina in case she'd woken up. Sure enough, she was sitting up beneath her blanket.
"Where're you going?" she yawned.
"Into town to get that paper. I'm anxious to know where we're going next."
"Good plan. I'm going inside to take a shower."
"Alright, see you in an hour or two." He started to head for the road.
"Wait!" said Gina suddenly, "About last night. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so... emotional on you."
"It's alright," he replied, "You've had a tough week."
"But still, thanks for being there."
"Any time."
And he was off.

Meanwhile, inside the house, Vlad and Ming were waking up.
"So Ming," Vlad asked, "Who is covering for you at work?"
"The temp I hired was working very very well," she said, "So I hired him full time. I figured with the extra staff I could take the time off when Velma called me about the reunion."
"Does this mean I no longer have a job?"
"It means you have, I'll call it, extended sabbatical. Since you are using that man's credit card on your quest, you no need pay anyhow."
Vlad thought about this for a minute. All things considered it was fair enough. Though he wondered how much credit Master Lin had actually given them.
"How long you staying here?" Ming asked.
"Well, we don't know where we're going next, but I think I'm going to stay with the family a while if Eric doesn't mind. As much as I care about the quest, we've always said 'Family First.' Why back when we first came to this country, Elvis and I would always pick each other first in the dodgeball games, even though we did not play dodgeball well, because family is important to us. Why I remember one game where It was just Elvis and I left on opposite teams, me on my side and he on his, and we both got ourselves out so the other one could win. Of course, we both lost in the end, or else both won - nobody really knew so I guess it worked out ok."
At that point, Vlad noticed that Ming was no longer in the room and went off to put some pant on and head downstairs.

TNT: Ch. 51

Eric discovered before he went to bed that, as he suspected, the newspaper did not actually deliver to Elvis's homestead. This was not surprising, given the situation with the national park. Nonetheless, Eric secured permission to borrow Elvis's bike and resolved to go on a nice early morning bike ride into town to get a paper, and be back with the clue when everyone else got up. He was exhausted, but he'd been getting up at the crack of dawn to farm for the last 3 days anyway and his body wasn't likely to be able to sleep late anyway.
In fact he wasn't able to sleep at all. He knew that Vlad sang opera in his sleep, so it was not entirely unexpected when the family Berljottsen turned out to be like the New York Metropolitan Opera when the lights went out. That didn't make it any less frustrating. Apparently it ran in the family. Finally Eric got up, restless, and went downstairs to the Ringo to get the sleeping bag he had packed back in Indy. When he got to the car, he found an unfamiliar bundle in the back seat. It turned out to be Gina.
"Couldn't sleep either?" she asked, raising her voice to get over the four different Arias and chorus numbers drifting out from the house.
"How could anyone?"
"I thought it would be better out here, but it isn't. What do you say we go out and sleep under the stars?"
"Sounds great," replied Eric.
"I wonder about Andrew and Ming," asked Gina, as they distanced themselves from the house, "How do they adapt to that? I mean could you do that?"
"I suppose you can get used to a lot of things, if you're in love," Eric pointed out, "Let's stop here. It's close enough that we're not likely to get eaten, but you can see the stars and you can barely hear the opera."
"Mmk," she replied, laying out her blanket.
Eric layed his sleeping bag out a few feet away. It was at that point he realized he'd forgotten his pillow. He shared this fact with Gina, who tossed him hers.
"No, I didn't mean- I'll just go back inside and-"
"It's fine," she said, "I slept in a shipping crate on my way out of the complex. I'm tough. Plus it's the least I can do for you. Without you I'd be spending tonight in Rob's bed, and enjoying it."
Eric blushed. He didn't know what to say to that, and for a while they were both silent, listening to the sounds of the night, the chirping of the crickets, the wind in the trees, and just the faintest hint of Verdi's Anvil Chorus.
"The stars are pretty tonight," Gina pointed out.
"Yeah."
Another silence followed, and Gina decided finally to say what was on her mind.
"Eric, what happens when this is all over?"
"What?"
"I mean, sooner or later we'll collect all these pieces, and Master Lin will build a toaster, and then what? I mean, you and Vlad have your jobs to get back to, so it's easy enough to say, 'That was fun now back to my life,' but I don't have anything else." She was fighting back tears now. "I don't have a home, or a family, or any marketable skills. I mean I could go back and try to make it on Broadway, but I've never really sung or acted before except in my dad's religious plays and I don't think he cast me for any reason other than that I was his daughter, and oh, I just don't know what to do anymore!"
Eric tossed her the pillow back as she broke down. She seemed to need the comfort more than he did.
"It'll be alright, Gina. Just think what would have happened if you hadn't found me and Vlad. You'd either be struggling in New York or Rob would have caught you. But you found us, and then when you did get taken back we followed you and we stopped your dad from exploiting all those people! This whole thing is prophesied, and there's something bigger than toasters happening here, and you have to believe it's gonna work out! I mean, I'm in the same boat as you. I haven't been in to work since I left on this quest, and when I called them they gave me one last chance and I didn't show. I'm out of a job, too. Yet I can't help but feel like it's gonna work out. Things are gonna be okay."
Gina seemed unconvinced. She was crying now. Eric tried a different line as he went over to comfort her.
"If we can make a good, just toaster that makes good toast all the time, we can do anything. And no matter how this whole quest works out, we'll always have each other. I'm not going to just go back to work and leave you in the dust, and neither will Vlad or Master Lin. We'll take care of you until you get back on your feet. We're a team now. We take care of each other."
Gina looked up at Eric, on whose shoulder she'd just been crying.
"It's a big pillow," she said, "Let's share it."
So they spent the night side by side under the stars. In truth Eric was as worried as Gina about the future, but he had hit on one thing that he knew was true. From here on out, they would have each other.

TNT Recap Continued

Maybe I will try to finish this tonight, so I can provide new content tomorrow.
Ch. 26: We meet Vlad's manager, Ming, who is also his wife. Vlad argues his way into time off without losing his job.

Ch. 27: Gina does some thinking, while hog-tied in the back of a pick-up truck. She resolves to play along in the hopes of helping the guys gain entrance into the cult complex.

Ch. 28: Eric and Vlad are killed by a mysterious man and Gina is sold into slavery. The End.

Ch. 28 (Really): April Fools! Disregard the last chapter 28. Eric and Vlad discover Gina's absence, and Vlad leaves his home to pick up Eric. Master Lin is unhelpful.

Ch. 29: Eric and Vlad track the Ringo Harrison to the gas station using the cell phone.

Ch. 30: Eric and Vlad encounter the cops and realize how complicated their predicament is from a legal standpoint.

Ch. 31: Eric and Vlad explain their story to Chief Jack Silverstien, a helpful cop, who also tells them that FBI agents are coming to investigate and that they should leave before they get there since they'll probably be dumb.

Ch. 32: Gina is rescued from her kidnappers by Rob and her brother, who are regrettably taking her home anyway. It turns out her kidnapper was an enemy of her father's, a mysterious man with a big black moustache who probably would not have taken her home.

Ch. 33: Everyone sleeps except the Berljottsen's neighbor and captain Silverstien, who is talking to the FBI agents. They decide that the best thing to do is take Eric and Vlad into custody.

Ch. 34: Eric wakes Vlad with Ming's help and they head to the police station, where they discover the FBI agents' plan and decide to leave before they get the chance to enact it.

Ch. 35: Eric and Vlad leave in the Ringo Harrison for the hotel parking lot in Ohio in pursuit of Gina.

Ch. 36: (Posted one year ago today) Eric and Vlad, following the lobster's lead, make it to the cult complex in Maine.

Ch. 37: Eric leaves all his possessions with Vlad and goes in posing as a recruit. He claims to have found the Whey through a vision. It seems to work, as he is taken to see a "very special man."

Ch. 38: Vlad gets lost in the forest and calls Master Lin, who gives him advice that is not relevant. We discover that even masters make mistakes sometimes.

Ch. 39: Eric meets Gina's father, as well as a changed Gina, who now appears brainwashed by the cult. Eric also drinks some tea, and is invited to Gina's wedding in four days.

Ch. 40: Fleeing cult members, Vlad hurls the lobster in the direction of the complex, hops in the car, and drives off.

Ch. 41: Eric meets Kyle, Gina's brother, who tells him about the mind control drug that keeps the place running. They agree to work together to rescue Gina.

Ch. 42: Vlad encounters the FBI agents in a hotel lobby.

Ch. 43: Eric rendevous with Kyle and is informed of his part in the plan: to stand up and make an objection at the wedding. He is also given an antidote for the mind-control drug.

Ch. 44: Eric rendevous with Kyle, picks up the lobster, and shows up at Gina's wedding.

Ch. 45: The wedding happens, sort of. It's interrupted by Vlad, FBI in tow and then by an unruly mob of suddenly undrugged cultists. Eventually the Feds take Gina's father, Milton, away. Gina, meanwhile, still insists she loves Rob and not Eric, tells him she hates him and runs off. Kyle than reveals that this was his sick plan all along and now that he's in charge they can take the artifact (but not Gina) and go.

Ch. 46: This chapter contains a lot of great speeches and a recap wouldn't so it justice, plus this thing's getting hella long. Suffice it to say Eric gets Gina back and the artifact. She also kisses him.

Ch. 47: The final resolution of the cult plotline is Rob's forgiveness of Eric and letting go of Gina. It's very touching.

Ch. 48: A call to Master Lin reveals that a clue will be in tomorrow's news. In the mean time, they agree to stay at Vlad's friend's house to save money.

Ch. 49: Eric, Gina, and Vlad turn into a state park and learn about Vlad's brother Elvis.

Ch. 50: Eric and Gina meet Vlad's entire family and resolve to get away from it ASAP

And then for a long time, nothing happened. Inspiration failed to strike. I totally abandoned this story for 3 months in favor of other things. Good things, but other things nonetheless. And then I decided to write this recap and rediscovered this wonderful story. I'd invite you all to reread it too, but the important thing is that tomorrow, or perhaps even tonight, I'm going t0 write an update. And after that, I'm going to pick up the biweekly update schedule I had so long ago. Perhaps not Toaster every time. Some Mortimer I'm sure, and I may have to run the sci-fi story as filler, but I will update twice weekly this summer. And into the school year with any luck.