Show Me The Video Again

  • by Kenta crow cawed
  • and where is it now?
  • the key was missing
  • How very sad indeed!
  • sucked exactly as much ass as you’d imagine

Tune in next time part 214                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Show me the video again,” I said, and the bartender took out her phone and played it. Now that we were in a quiet space, I could hear the audio that went with the baffling images. There was some random crowd noise, and then a crow cawed. It was the unmistakable caw of the blue-footed crow, a rare species found only in the swamps and fens surrounding Pittsburghistan.

I squinted at the bartender. “The zeppelin was in Contraria when this was shot, and where is it now?”

She shrugged. “The zeppelin’s departure was delayed because after getting everybody on board they noticed that the key was missing. That’s all I know.”

“How sad for us not knowing where dear old dad was late to.”

“How very sad indeed!” She chuckled.

Being confined in a smelly room with a sarcastic Pinkie Swear wasn’t turning out to be as much fun as I hoped. Rather, it sucked exactly as much ass as you’d imagine.

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Looking at the Scalpel

  • by jennot in any way compromise your sister
  • three sons and two daughters
  • rural lava fields
  • asked Henri how his vacation was going
  • now that I’ve read it

Tune in next time part 213                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

Looking at the scalpel I remembered my father’s last words to me, Jason, Jim, Jemma, and Jemima: “I would not in any way compromise your sister against her wishes. You know how Freya is. She’s game for anything! I can’t believe that of all my children I have three sons and two daughters who are so uptight and inhibited. You five should try to be more openminded like your other siblings. Why, when I was a youth in the rural lava fields of Iceland, it was anything goes! Our little village was a popular holiday destination for broad-minded Frenchmen, and they taught me much. It was always educational when I ‘asked Henri how his vacation was going‘– if you know what I mean. But you handed me this petition, and now that I’ve read it I think that you don’t, in fact, know what I mean.”

He shook his head and expelled the lot of us from the Oval Office. I don’t know about my siblings, but I never saw my father again.

Until today.

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The Next Room Was What a Library Would Look Like

  • by Kentno fewer than one thousand four hundred and twenty petitions against
  • They declined.
  • he could make us all suffer
  • feel my IQ dropping
  • a scalpel — a clean scalpel

Tune in next time part 212                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

The next room was what a library would look like if hyenas were librarians.

From a mound of tattered books, the bartender pulled one that was relatively unscathed. “There were no fewer than one thousand four hundred and twenty petitions against allowing your father to take office,” she said. “But only two people signed each one. Of course, more people were asked to sign. They declined. This book contains all the petition data, plus the dossiers on everybody who refused to give their names.”

“If they didn’t give their names, then… Never mind.”

“Your father’s return to power would be very bad, he could make us all suffer with his ‘amateur harmonica soloists’ initiative to replace all other music. Also, the ‘all countries starting with A are henceforth named Australia’ nonsense. I feel my IQ dropping just thinking about such a future.”

She handed me the book. I riffled the pages, not really caring about all this info when I was still adjusting to the idea that what I thought I knew about my father was all false.

Taped to the tome’s inside back cover was a scalpel — a clean scalpel. The bartender nodded solemnly.

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The Elevator Opened Into Another Kitchen

  • by jenrepeat episode of the game show Wheel of Fortune
  • “So, I made this decision…”
  • “Ciao… Adieu… Auf Wiedersehen… Via con Dios… GO AWAY!”
  • but the same can not be said of murderers
  • women taking up their rifles

Tune in next time part 211                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

The elevator opened into another kitchen, this one dusty from disuse. With her finger to her lips, the bartender signaled that I should keep quiet. She led me out through the swinging doors into a dining room lit only by dozens of televisions, all playing a repeat episode of the game show Wheel of Fortune, the Contrarian edition. It was time for the bonus round, and the contestant said, “So, I made this decision…” but he didn’t look very decisive. “Pat,” he went on, “I’m going to go with X, Z, Q, and Å.” Pat gave him a pitying look that I remembered well from the first time this episode aired and I watched it with Fleur back in Contraria. Of course none of those letters appeared in the puzzle, and the guy had very little to go on. He started spewing random phrases, hoping to hit upon the right answer. “Ciao… Adieu… Auf Wiedersehen… Via con Dios… GO AWAY!” But of course none of those were right. Time ran out and the poor contestant fell to his knees, bawling. Pat put on his judicial wig and robe and smiled into the camera. He said, “Many thieves and adulterers can be rehabilitated, but the same can not be said of murderers. Silvio, I’m afraid to say you’ve lost your chance at parole.” Uniformed guards marched in from both sides and hauled Silvio to his feet. They tied a blindfold around his head. The last thing I saw before the bartender pulled me through another door was Vanna and the other women taking up their rifles.

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Too Many Projects? There’s No Such Thing!

Throughout its many arched galleries and torchlit colonnades, the writing cave has lately resounded with the hammer-blows of feverish industry — because it was annexed for a side project that kept both Jen and Kent preoccupied and away from our writing. Alas! But that gloomy epoch draws to a close, and scrivenings are nigh once more!

The Labor Day weekend will see us plunging back into Elsewhere’s Twin to get it spiffed up and ready for its debut at the end of the month. Wow, that’s coming up fast. One more month. Good thing we’re awesome.

Working with a partner is like having extra days on the calendar to get shit done. Even when the distractions just won’t let up.

The Bartender Chivvied Me

  • by Kentdidn’t buy his fish story
  • I still get goose bumps
  • America? No, Australia.
  • where is your finger?
  • called that “popping grapes”

Tune in next time part 210                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

The bartender chivvied me through the narrow spaces of the kitchen toward the rear exit. My mind was still rejecting the image of my father on the zeppelin ramp, and apparently I was muttering about it under my breath.

The bartender looked me in the eye and said, “He pulled a pretty good disappearing act, and even though as a Pink I was clued in about such things and didn’t buy his fish story, I still get goose bumps remembering when I first heard about his ‘death’ on the news.”

I lapsed into sullen silence and let myself be loaded onto a freight elevator. I don’t have a name for how the news made me feel, but it certainly isn’t ‘goose bumps.’

Once we were alone I said, “You honestly think the whole scandal, the humiliation, was preferable over being president of America?”

“America? No, Australia.”

“Um, no.” I laughed. What else was there to do? The elevator remained still and silent even though it had been closed for many seconds. “Hey, where is your finger? Shouldn’t it be pressing a button to make this thing move?”

Now the bartender laughed. “That’s not how this elevator works.” She pulled out her flask and a lighter. I dove into the far corner and rolled up in a ball as she spewed flames on a black glass panel.

When the roaring noise and indoor-sunburn heat abated, I unrolled and stood up. The elevator started rising. I wanted to ask my companion’s name, but she had much to say. She explained, for instance, how she learned to operate this elevator, and that in the Guild they called that “popping grapes” but she wasn’t yet of high enough level to be told why.

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened.

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My Father Had Been Dead for Years

  • by jenWait, what?
  • “preferably dead,” she added.
  • sang the last line of the song
  • just toast, maybe a boiled egg
  • a great many other pleasant and astonishing devices

Tune in next time part 209                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

My father had been dead for years, but there he was, boarding my brother’s presidential zeppelin. I drained my subpoena and smacked the glass down on the bar, upside down as per Pinkie Swears tradition. My head was swimming. I tried to focus on the image on the tiny phone screen. It couldn’t really be my father, could it?

I realized the bartender was speaking, and had been for some time.

“Wait, what?” I said.

She sighed heavily. “After the sex scandal, we thought we were done with your father. We thought he’d be disgraced, imprisoned,” her eyes darted to the door, “preferably dead,” she added.

“That’s a bit harsh,” I slurred, wishing I had some food to counteract the alcohol. “Everyone involved was a consenting adult. Even Freya.” I hiccuped.

“Jason’s here.” She grabbed me by the front of my shirt and hauled me over the bar where I sprawled on the floor. Out amongst the balloons I heard all the Pinks take up a chorus of For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow. The bartender stood up and sang the last line of the song along with the rest of them.

Staying low, I made my way through the door into the kitchen. I was hoping to find something to eat. Nothing fancy — just toast, maybe a boiled egg. I found neither of those, but I did see a frozen daiquiri machine and a great many other pleasant and astonishing devices.

As I stuck my head under the daiquiri nozzle and opened my mouth, the bartender came through the door. “Now’s our chance to get out of here,” she said, pulling me away from the machine, “while they’re all distracted. We need to get to that zeppelin and stop your father!”

Her breath in my face was even more flammable than my own, and I realized I was tangling with a representative of the Guild of Fire Eaters. I couldn’t let her know that Jemma was just downstairs.

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A Couple of Hours at IHOP

Another big storm rolled through our area earlier this week and knocked out our power. Again. This time it was only out for about four hours, so it was a lot less of an inconvenience than last time. We didn’t even lose our DuoLingo streaks this time!

For some reason the fact that we’re going to want to eat every day takes us continuously by surprise and we often waste a good half-hour taking an inventory of our pantry and debating the merits of various take-out options. Just as we were getting warmed up for our daily dinner negotiations, the lights went out and the battery backups all started chirping, and thus our decision was easy. We shut down all of the electronics, grabbed our trusty steno pad, and absconded to IHOP.

After stuffing our faces, we got down to business. It was our waitress’s birthday, so we tried to be easy customers, demanding only endless coffee (for Kent) and water (because Jen actually has tastebuds) refills. We spent the next few hours reviewing the notes we’d already made about Sibling of Music Novel. There were some points that are already moot, and some sidetracks we’ll probably ignore. We thought of a few things that had been discussed but never written down, so we added those. Some characters have already been renamed. It was interesting to find so much progress on a project that’s still really in its infancy. And it felt really good to see how much material we already have.

Eventually our electricity came back on and we were able to go home, but even so, progress was slow this week. Kent had a business trip, and instead of writing in his absence, Jen used the time to binge a whole bunch of stuff he’s not interested in watching.

And speaking of binging, we finished up the program we mentioned last time, and are happy to say that we don’t have to replot anything. We’re sure you’re as relieved as we are.

Throughout The Room

  • by Kent— a floury thing in a three-sided husk —
  • her pants were on backwards
  • without a consultation fee
  • “Here’s a subpoena for you.”
  • into the umbilical ramp

Tune in next time part 208                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

Throughout the room, other Pinks milled around in the balloons. Most had drinks, but I saw one munching on one of their weird delicacies, something called an oscillatta — a floury thing in a three-sided husk — and I wondered if she knew her pants were on backwards. Given how into bizarre forms of insignia the Pinkie Swears were, it probably indicated high rank, or meant no one could ask her what time it was without a consultation fee.

I set off wading through the layer of inflated whimsical orbs to the bar, noting that no one was dancing. They were all wearing earbuds, and some were discreetly bobbing their heads. It was the saddest silent disco I had ever seen.

The bartender held up a hand to silence me when I tried to order. She sized me up, nodded, and then started pouring liquors into a shaker. When the gold-purple concoction was fizzing in a tall glass, she slid it across to me and said, “Here’s a subpoena for you.” She winked. “You’ve been served.”

“Thanks.” I took a swig. It was surprisingly good, but seemed strong as hell. “Hey, I’m a gatecrasher at this thing, not on purpose, but still. Any chance you’d be able to help me get out before the guest of honor returns?”

“Finish your drink, then we’ll talk.”

“After this drink I won’t be able to complete a sentence.”

“Drink up. While you do that, here’s something to engage your mind.”

She laid her phone on the bar, playing a video clip of the presidential zeppelin. It was docking, but I didn’t recognize the mooring stand. The resolution was too low for me to tell who was moving into the umbilical ramp to board the blimp. The bartender wouldn’t let me try to zoom in unless I was also taking a big slurp of my subpoena, which made it impossible to improve the image clarity.

Finally, with the drink three-quarters gone, I managed to recognize one of the faces on the screen. But that was impossible!

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