[Herr D]

Land, sea, and air. He belongs to all and yet to none.

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[Herr D]

Some of you know what a one-horse town is, some of you know what a three dog night is, but people who know about ol’ Pappy know one thing fer sure . . . NONE of them ever want to see a twenty-one finger gunfight!

[Herr D]

A representative of the Bureau of Indian Affairs and a buyer’s real estate lawyer sat down for a meeting about a parcel of land that might be dis-included from a reservation based on a questionable deed of prior ownership. A peculiarly dressed, humpbacked man walked right in, unannounced. He wore a crude, burlap, two-piece garment and a crude PLASTIC-looking mask with a veil. He held up an odd-looking flute and said, “Everyone who thinks this deal should NOT be made–STAND UP AND WALK OUT OF THE MEETING!”
He began the worst playing any of the witnesses had ever heard, and began prancing out.
Stunned, no one else moved. But you’ll never believe what the security cameras saw leaving the meeting and disappearing into the desert . . . the deed is now missing. And oil has just been discovered on that very parcel of land . . .

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One of the witnesses, while drinking heavily later, said that the worst part of the whole thing was hearing brass claws on the hard floor. I’m just glad nothing was made of alligator skin.

[Herr D]

Chapter 8: Editing Views

Seventeen new pages proofed, eight images cropped and logo added, teleprompter fed, and final pages sent to printer–Eight minutes to two. Yah. This IS closer than I like. David practically ran to the printer as it stopped. He separated it by heading, handed Tia and Shelley their stacks, and darted over to Old Mike, who was muscling Camera One an inch or so to the left at a time and checking the view. Their quick conversation was lost in the noise of Nathan and Stuart doing sound check and Jennifer’s wrist canes clicking as she headed to the bathroom. Looks like panic, and he isn’t bothering me. I may have to push the envelope more often. Jennifer caned up to the sink. She smiled at the trashed counter with it’s splotches of makeup and powder. An eyebrow pencil and a lipstick, forgotten, lay under some sodden, crumpled paper towels. The bathroom sink of a pretty woman. It’s like that book, ‘The Portrait of Dorian Gray.’ A wreck made to preserve beauty.
A loud crashing noise echoed through the building. Shouts, curses, and the scrambling of men followed. Speaking of wrecks . . .
The bathroom door swung open, revealing a worried-looking Tia. Tia flounced in, followed by Shelley. Jennifer gave them a questioning glance.
“They broke Cam One again!” blurted out Tia. Ohhhh.
Shelley grinned. “Two minute wait. Three extra commercial spots. They’ll have Cams Two and Three moved by then.”
“Can Po have the adaptors swapped by then too?”
Shelley and Tia froze. “Go!” said Shelley. Tia ran out. Shelley turned to Jennifer. “Thank you.”
Jennifer shrugged. “I just figure it’ll keep the wrong people from getting in trouble. Like you and your boyfriend helped me earlier.”
Shelley had bent toward the mirror, looking for faults in her makeup. “Who?”
“Young Mike.”
Shelley gave Jennifer a funny look. “I wouldn’t do that to him.”
“What?”
Shelley smiled, “If I wanted him, I’d have to get him another job first. David wants the world thinking Tia and I are dating HIM. If I dated someone here at work, David would fire them for me messing up the image.” Shelley looked Jennifer up and down. “Besides,” she whispered, “I’m not into men.”
Um! Um! Oops. Jennifer felt her cheeks warming up quickly. “I didn’t know.”
The bathroom door burst open. Tia came in, anxiously looking at the mirror. “Know what?”
“I’m forty,” said Shelley, winking at Jennifer.
“You are NOT!” Tia blurted out. “You don’t even look THIRTY!”
Shelley smiled warmly, “Why, THANK you, Tia! Of course I won’t look this good for much longer.”
Tia blinked at Shelley while she pulled out a foundation bottle and applied a speck to her already perfect base coat. “Why’s that?”
“I started using foundation a few years ago.”
Tia froze, staring at the bottle of foundation in her hand. “What?!” she squeaked.
Shelley and Jennifer started laughing. Tia snatched up a paper towel and threw it at them, easily deflected by Shelley. Tia froze again. “I forgot.”
“What?”
“How do you say that word mezz- mezz- ?”
Jennifer frowned, “You mean mezzanine?”
“Yes! Thank you.”
Jennifer shook her head. Tia left the bathroom at a full run.
Shelley looked up at Jennifer in the mirror. “He’s not into me either.”
“What? Who?”
“Young Mike. He does like working with me, and I think I’ve caught him checking me out. He’s not into me though.”
Jennifer blinked. “Why not?”
Shelley laughed. “Men looking doesn’t mean anything. Do you think men fall in love with magazines? Or commercials? David used to look at me before he got me in the situation I’m in. Young Mike says he doesn’t like makeup much.”
Uhh? “Situation?”
Shelley smiled. “Nothing like that. David knew not to touch me. He hired me straight from a little station in West Virginia. Not a studio like this one, either. A whole station. But he hired me based on a piece I did on sexual harassment. He’s never going to act up in front of me.”
“What situation, then?”
Shelley grimaced. “He lied to people, saying I got the job BECAUSE I was sleeping with him. He wound up bragging to the wrong people about it and driving a little business away from us. You know that station in Delaware that stopped ordering our feeds?”
“Yeah.”
“Well it’s owned by a woman. She got wind of that and called me, said she was trashing my application to work for her. She said she’d heard the ‘rumors,’ but I know who started them.”
“#%^&*”
“Yeah, well; he’ll get his someday.” Shelley walked out.
Even considering the wreck of Camera One and the late start, the filming went well. Post-production went surprisingly smoothly, Jennifer finishing up a few minutes before four o’clock. She toyed with her simplified logo transparency as the feeds were bought and sent, Nathan and Stuart being their usually goofy, over-eager selves. Really, guys. It’s good product. You probably push down what they’re willing to pay us. She was beginning to close the file when David trotted out of the office with a map, all smiles. He pushed ‘page.’ “Young Mike, please report to the editing desks.”
By the time Young Mike arrived, David had borrowed a large straightedge and started drawing lines on the map. He looked up. “So, how did your field day with Shelley and Jennifer go?”
Young Mike looked at him oddly. “Shelley seemed to think we got some good leads and some good footage.”
“And your bit on Zephyr?”
“Not so much about Zephyr. Our leads wound up being in other directions.”
“You want to make it here as an assistant tech, or a cameraman? Maybe go full-time? Wait for tomorrow. Tia and I are going to get this story moving. We’re going to try to interview the thing. And I’M going to do the camera work. You’ll see how I want it done. I need you to stop at the hardware store before six and get the list Po is making.”
“On it.” Young Mike left.
So, Davy-boy CAN be led around by the nose by a guy, as long as he thinks he’s impressing him. He’s NEVER slept with Shelley. Probably never with Tia either if he’s that cagey about harassment issues. Shelley’s into women, and I may be the only one here who knows. Young Mike is like a closet stud or something, pretty clever, and may be naive enough to not know David would probably like him to take my job. Tia can actually run without messing up her hair . . . how? I can’t even cane at HALF-SPEED without messing up mine! –Wait. David is acting like he’s some kind of investigative reporter. Interview Zephyr? What’s he doing with that map?

[Herr D]

Mmm. Maybe. Well, if no one objects, then I’ll be happy to judge this coming Saturday March 9 midnight or after with the same three tails.

[Herr D]

With that power description, I might suggest “Finesse” or “Grace” or “Sidestep” because she should be able to be that way around danger.

[Herr D]

No entries. Deadline passed. I seem to be picking items that don’t inspire people as much.

Prswirve: As the only person interested enough to even comment on my choices, I am requesting you to pick three items and post them and judge after next Saturday midnight. Perhaps your items will inspire people more. I hope so. This has been one of my favorite contests, and I don’t wish to see it die.

[Herr D]

Dr. Schlotz gives a great lecture on theoretical physiological experimentation and the practical results. He seems to be one of the greatest predictors of advances in genetics, biology, and biophysics. It’s a pity about his recent tragedy. Apparently someone broke into his home while he was away and torched his private laboratory. Destroyed all his records!

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I mean, that’s the second time this YEAR.

[Herr D]

The passenger had to step up her game. She really didn’t do too bad, considering–

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–that she had no training AT ALL. The pilot was sick.

**Note: This is also submitted to “Kick it!” in the blog. The backgrounds are right shoes at 999%. The pretty young thing is made of male right feet. The wreck is made of most of the tech right feet. The ideas came from all the pretty young things I could have had an accident over, and this piece is therefore dedicated to my wife, who helps me keep my insurance premiums down.

[Herr D]

It stopped at the salvage yard and tore off part of an old truck at a woman’s urging to cover itself. Officer Coy led it to the National Forest. It said it’s name is Oaker.

Judge Ghent: You understand you are under OATH, Miss Jersey?
Jersey: Yes, your honor.
Prosecuting Attorney: Miss Jersey, you testified that you hit a tree in the road.
Jersey: Yes, that’s right.
PA: and that the tree “left unhurt.”
Jersey: Yes.
PA: and that you advised it to “cover itself?”
Jersey: Yes. Well. He had these really big, KNOTS, you know? Not very appropriate in public. And so I told him to cover himself. He said he didn’t understand, because he would still be ‘knotty.’ He didn’t understand that I meant ‘NAUGHTY,’ you know? But he reached into the salvage yard and tore most of the side of a truck off. He bent it around himself while Officer Coy took my statement and followed Officer Coy to the national forest. He said he was named ‘Oaker’ because he was an oak and he should rhyme with a color. Officer Coy said he was jaywalking but couldn’t charge him. He’s not human, you know? Anyway, he wasn’t hurt and doesn’t have money or an owner, so Officer Coy said he didn’t know what kind of a ticket to write me.
PA: [mopping forehead] Your witness.

[Herr D]

@Count Dorku said:
(I don’t really have a name for the time heroine. If anyone has a good one, please let me know.)
My idea here was for a character descended from a time deity, essentially a demigod.

It depends on her specific powers. Does she just travel, watch, change things? Interesting limitations? Kaylin and I had a brief forum discussion of a power we’ve termed ‘rebranch.’ Going back to fix things with or without maintaining what ‘did’ happen.
Various terms exist in lit.: loop, paradox, stasis, etc. As far as names go, words like Pause, Flow, Ripple, Tesser, Wrinkle, Skip can be incorporated into names, along with origin names: Cronos’ great ^17 grand daughter might be Chronopoietes (Time – Maker?) where Odin’s might be some less common Teutonic form of Zeitbrenner (Time – burner?)
Possibilities abound.

–and welcome indeed. Nice effect on your anti-Alice.

[Herr D]

Hero. More interesting if that’s the hero, especially if the villain looks ordinary or charming.

[Herr D]

Rick said he went to cut down that old tree with a chainsaw he got secondhand on Mojner Avenue downtown. (I know, there isn’t a Mojner Avenue–he must have been drunk.) Anyway, he got half through the trunk, and two eyes began to glow. The limbs rearranged themselves, and the two biggest reached down and pushed till the whole thing broke free. It did a handstand, rolled to it’s, well, feet, and started down Main Street. It stopped at the salvage yard and tore off part of an old truck at a woman’s urging to cover itself. Officer Coy led it to the National Forest. It said it’s name is Oaker.

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Rick is making such a big deal. He won’t tell anyone what he did with the chainsaw or ANYTHING.

[Herr D]

Gina Lamprey
subway tunnel, Hong Kong
My Journey So Far

Dear Diary [date redacted]: The new doctor said I have such a rare form of cancer that he got me on a special program. My chemo hasn’t gone well, and he says I can’t have anymore radiation. At least my hair’s growing back. The clinic gave me a special envelope, mailed all the way from Hong Kong to me! My friend Billy gave me eighty bucks so I can have plenty of food while I get set up there. The new doctor made sure my passport was okay, and gave me a taxi voucher to the airport. The experimental surgery will use robotic arms to point the lasers and is too expensive to do for everyone. My counselor says I should keep on keeping the diary even though I’m not so depressed now that I won’t die. He says it’s good for me.
Dear Diary [date redacted]: The new doctor flew all the way with me and took me to the inoculation center near the charter plane. He gave me a funny-looking shot. I guess square needles are common in Hong Kong. I feel funny and am going to sleep now.
Dear Diary [date redacted]: I woke. I looked at book to know how to speak. I spoke Chinese today. Just enough to find the hospital. I stole a suitcase from a hotel lobby. It was the right one. It had money for the cab. It had soft bulky clothes. It had a flashlight.
I took the cab to the hospital. I waited until the right time. I walked in and re-con-fig-ured the rad-i-a-tion fre-quen-cies on the machine and broke the screen by hitting it on the counter. It broke just right. The doctor was never going to operate on me. I cured my cancer so my brain doesn’t have it anymore and never will again. I took the right pills from the cabinet there and went to the subway. I bought crackers and bottled water on the way. I faked coughing until everyone on my subway car got off and got under the seat. I put my head in the bulky soft clothes in the suitcase and waited for the accident. It wrecked and I was safe. I will finish writing this and take the pills I stole with some crackers and water. That means I will not be sick and will sleep until it is the right time. Then I will take the flashlight out and let the others know I am here. I do not think they are here yet.

[Herr D]

25% inflation over one year. Wow. That’s as bad as 2002 – now. I’ve noticed some prices in various categories climbing at that rate for nearly twelve years now. Was the silver age in the late ’70’s? That’s the last time I remember inflation that bad.

[Author]

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