We'll fight ya' for it.
(B. Schatz)
So, right after I posted the "Dear Bloggers" post, I wasn't allowed to access the posting page for this site. Now, I think it was a coincidence, but just in case, and appology to the Hard-Done-By-Teenage-Bloggers:
posted by B. Schatz @ 5:57 p.m.
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(B. Schatz)
Dear Hard-Done-By-Teenaged-Bloggers.
posted by B. Schatz @ 11:22 p.m.
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(B. Schatz)
So, a few years ago, I completed a story. It was called "Strands", and I was so incredibly proud of it, I began to show it to everyone who would take the time to read the printed copy.
posted by B. Schatz @ 11:57 p.m.
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(B. Schatz)
"Crap. What day of NaNoWriMo is it?"
posted by B. Schatz @ 3:29 p.m.
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(B. Schatz)
Remotely Pretty
posted by B. Schatz @ 7:54 p.m.
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(B. Schatz)
The Soupy Toasterson Show
posted by B. Schatz @ 2:07 a.m.
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(B. Schatz)
Love Under 100
posted by B. Schatz @ 1:00 p.m.
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(B. Schatz)
The first week is over, and things are still on track, but I've become increasingly aware that posting this story without the proper story structure editting... isn't the grandest idea.
posted by B. Schatz @ 8:57 p.m.
2 comments
(B. Schatz)
Right Here and Now
Jacob felt cold.
He had felt cold ever since he first boarded The Everlast a few weeks ago, and remained cold when as he saw the Starcrosser transport ship worm its way through Everything to look at the inhabitants of the floating wooden boat.
Cold was his natural state of being.
“Everyone, take whatever you have in your hands, and give them to the Ugly Boys!” the captain commanded, “It doesn’t matter what it is, so long as it is something, and not nothing. If we’re lucky, there may be a way out of this.”
In fact the more he thought about things, the more he remembered feeling cold quite often through out his life.
When he had lived at the Durmstrang Orphanage for the Dishevelled and Unruly, he remembered shivering under the thin sheet that was meant to keep him warm on the cold winter nights in There, where winter lasted months rather than a few weeks around Christmas time.
When he was adopted by the Kempt family, he remembered shuddering inside of his drafty room, despite the mounds of blankets he kept himself well wrapped inside.
And when he stood outside in the rain on the day of Mr. and Mrs. Kempt’s funeral, he remembered his teeth chattering as the falling water soaked him to the bone as their bodies slowly faded from existance.
“Move quickly!” another command arose, “They are starting to deploy, and it won’t take long for them to be on top of us!”
The sad truth of the matter was this: Jacob was always cold. Or rather, he was cold in the moments that he remained awake.
When he was sleeping… oh ho, was Jacob warm. Whenever his eyes fluttered shut and his mind began to drift away to other places, he could feel a strange warmth overtake the cold.
It would start at his toes, first as a tingle, and then as a glow. That glow would then spread, going up to his feet and through his ankles, going ever upward until the warmth would coat him completely, making him feel safe.
Jacob liked the warmth. He hadn’t been warm in many, many days.
“Does everyone know what they are doing? Is everyone in position? Jacob? Jacob, what are you doing?”
Standing on the deck of The Everlast, looking face to face to what he could only assume would be his eventual destruction, Jacob wondered what he would do to gain that warmth back again.
He had agreed to the attempt to catch the star: their supply of The Sleeping Dust had been running quite low, and as everyone knew, no one would get any sleep without it, not so long as they remained Here. He had known the risks going in and, like many others, was willing to take the chance needed so that they could all sleep peacefully, and so that he, specifically, could warm himself once again.
“Jacob, take this and get ready to fight,” the captain said, handing him an umbrella, “And whatever you do, don’t open it until you absolutely need to.”
However, as looked up at the several uniformed bodies floating a little ways off in the distance, defiantly wielding a device that would make Mary Poppins proud, he began to think about ceasing to exist.
It was accepted lore, that whenever anyone ceased to exist, whether they be one hundred and nine, or just nine years old, they would enter a state of eternal slumber.
Of eternal warmth.
It was then Jacob realized that no matter what the looming battle meant for the future, he had nothing to lose.
One way or another, he would feel comfort again.
But, knowing this still, he would do his best to fend off all those who would attack The Everlast. The crew and the boat had, after all, been nothing but good to him, offering him a chance to take part in adventure and comfort. He felt a kinship to them all.
And so when the aggressors began to rain down from above, he smiled.
He was satisfied with his future.
And happy to share his cold with whomever was stupid enough to cross his path on his way to it.
posted by B. Schatz @ 8:50 p.m.
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(B. Schatz)
We're at Day 06. How are things going?
posted by B. Schatz @ 11:24 p.m.
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(B. Schatz)
The Everlast - Chapter 03 - Put It In Your Pocket
by B. Schatz
Back Here and Then.
At
And then, night would fall.
For anyone who was visiting (or for that matter living) Here for the first time in their lives, it was quite an amazing sight. As soon as the clock struck
This, was when the Starcrossers would start their work.
“Welcome to the Starship Hopeless Wonder,” an overly cheerful automated female voice greeted newly instated Starcrosser Chaucer as he set foot on the ship, “N. Consistency and Co. hope your stay will help you better appreciate your ability to exist.”
“Sounds like fun,” Chaucer muttered to himself.
“Making Everything a better place to live is always enjoyable, and you have the greatest job in the world!” the automated voice replied from somewhere above his head.
“Great. You can understand me.”
“I can also speak every single language recognized by the great people at N. Consistency and Co. and debate about the advantages of staving off mind-numbing depression!” it chimed.
“Which,” said a smiling man who strode towards Starcatcher Chaucer, “I hear, is an unfortunate pratfall in our profession, I’m afraid. Not that you were told that when you signed up for duty, I’m sure. The good old folks at N. Consistency and Co. tend to keep anything bad on the down low, so don’t be afraid if by the end of the year, you’ll feel the entire world crushing you very will to live.
“My name is Bill Shakespeare, and I’m the newly appointed Chief of Anomalies and Troublesome Events here at the Hopeless Wonder, but I’m not a huge fan of the whole hierarchy of titles thing, so… I’m going to pull rank here and tell you that you will be calling me Bill,” he continued, extending his hand in gratitude, “I’m also the reluctant but accommodating guide to new recruits. That last one is not an official position, however, it’s a job that needs to be done, and I am the only one here who has the cheerful disposition for it. Are you ready to get yourself acquainted with your home away from everyone and anyone who cares?”
“And you’re the happy one.”
“If you don’t count the computers, this is the best you’re going to do.”
“Sounds as if I’m going to be right at home here.”
“Grand, because it will be your home for a good portion of the year,” Bill smiled, leading Chaucer out of the entrance area and out into the first hallway in the ship, “New recruits are required to stay here for the entire year, your two weeks of vacation included. Yes, it defeats the whole purpose of ‘getting away from it all’, but N. Consistency and Co. are sticklers for rules when it comes to the new kids. What’s your name by the way? I was supposed to read the file on you, but my time is better spent doing things that don’t directly pertain to this job.”
“It’s Chaucer. Gregory Chaucer.”
“As in the
“Yeah, actually at the training academy, they used to call me Canterbury. I didn’t really care for that.”
“That’s clever,” Bill grinned, “Those new kids are clever.
“Actually-“
“As you were probably told and… as you can see, this place is quite sizable,” Bill interrupted and continued, “A necessity when you have to house as many people as we do here. Now, your room will be of standard issue. Bed, desk, closet, and a half bath. There are communal showers, kitchens, and gathering areas on every floor, and you can use them as much as you please, but keep in mind, they are shared facilities, and the other occupants can, may and almost definitely will be a little cranky, because this place tends to bring out the best in people, are you following?”
“Kind of, uh-“
“Now, right here,” Bill pointed as the hallway opened up into an expansive room filled with monitor, knobs, dials and widgets of many different sizes and styles, “Is where all the magic happens. As you know, being a Starcrosser has been deemed very important by those at N. Consistency, and is, quite possibly, more important than anyone around here could possibly imagine, however that will not be discussed any further, because the computers, they are always listening, isn’t that right?”
“We monitor your life so that N. Consistency and Co. can keep Everything happy and existent,” the happy automated voice chimed.
“And while that never ceases to be a pain in everyone’s backside, we all deal with the hand we are dealt, and do our jobs to the best of our abilities, which brings us to,” he paused at an empty work station and held out his hands, as if he were presenting it to an audience, “your work station.
“What we have here is, again, standard issue for the new kids. You will be assigned a specific area of the skies to watch, and ever star in that area will be your responsibility. If anyone approaches them, and is not riding inside an authorized N. Consistency and Co. issue Starcrosser transport ship, you will alert your superior. Now, since this is one of your only duties until trouble strikes, you will be incredibly bored, and while we frown upon any and all distractions,” Bill directed those words upwards towards the automated voice that was no doubt following them around, “We certainly won’t prevent you from doing what you will to maintain your sanity. Now. You look bored.”
“Actually, I’m just wondering where my room is.”
“All in good time,
“My name isn’t-“
“Now, beside your work station, is a prince of a guy,” Bill explained, wandering a bit to the left, “Been working here for years, and hasn’t let a thing get to him. Some say it’s because he has no emotions of his own, but I think it was because he was raised over There, rather than Here, and let the mundane crawl right into the folds of his mind and take over. Say hello, Fford.”
“That’s Fford with two ‘f’s,” the man stated mundanely.
“Fford here is our resident know it all. Anything in the Starcrosser’s Handbook is firmly planted in his memory. We sometimes test him because, like I said, we all get very, very bored,” Bill continued, “Want to take him for a test drive?”
“I-“
“Fford, give us the N. Consistency and Co. standard explanation of the importance of Stars,” Bill commanded jovially.
“Stars are one of the most important resources of keeping the balance of Everything intact. Also, it has been proven that the positioning and crossing of said stars help determine certain outcomes, which is why it is integral for them to be monitored closely for anomalies and troublesome events. Though one of the purest sources of The Sleeping Dust around, N. Consistancy and Co. chooses and refines only those stars that have been deemed repetitive and unessential to Everything’s assured existence.”
“See?” Bill grinned, “Word for soul sucking word. The man’s a charmer.”
Bill moved further to the left, “And right next to him, we have Starcrosser Ford, with one ‘f’. And yes, just so you know, I placed them beside each other purely for everyone’s continued entertainment. Say hello, Ford.”
“Word.”
“It should be noted that Ford is utterly and completely different from Fford, and has been responsible for most of the near catastrophes we’ve had up here.”
“Just doin’ my best to keep things interesting ‘round here,” Ford stated, spinning around in his chair.
“And we all appreciate it, now as for your quarters and when you start working-“
“Bill!” an angry cry arose from another part of the main control centre.
“Ah. Mr. Jonathan Gower, right on schedule,” Bill smiled, “I apologize in advance, but I may have to relinquish my duties as your shepherd, and leave you to your own devices: the man is a prime example of why everyone here drowns their sorrows at AlMega’s on a more-frequent-than nightly basis. You should be able to find someone around here to show you the ropes and John!” Bill remarked as Gower arrived, “Fancy meeting you here. I’m assuming this is about my promotion?”
“You mean my promotion,” Gower seethed, “And don’t call me John.”
“You know, I’d love to, but the newly instated Chief of Anomalies and Troublesome Events isn’t all that big on formalities,” Bill said, smiling calmly, “You know how it is. Now, if you’d like, we can surely discuss this matter further in my office…”
“Discuss this in your office. You know, you are a piece of work…”
The two began to argue using what Chaucer recognized was two completely different styles: Gower being consistently short and angry, while Bill seemed to use a consistently calm and happy tone for no matter what he was describing. He could easily see why the two had found conflict, as their personalities already seemed incompatible, and he had just arrived.
But that was the thing: he had just arrived and had no bearing as to which direction he was to go next. Thankfully, before Bill had left, he had imparted at least some information…
“Fford, would you happen to know where I can find out where I’ll be living, or… you know, what I’m supposed to do?”
“Damned if go to the I know office down the second where you need to and turn right at the do I look like and you should find yourself at your mother,” a jumbled reply melded together from both of the Starcrossers.
“…great I’ll just…” Chaucer pointed in the general direction of one of the hallways, before realizing that neither was paying any real attention to him, “Yeah, I think I’ll just go.”
He began his trek out of the room.
“Greatest first day ever.”
posted by B. Schatz @ 11:56 p.m.
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(B. Schatz)
The Everlast - Chapter 02 - Here and There and Elsewhere #02 Back Then and Here.
Faith Edwards hadn’t slept in over a week, and it was starting to affect her ability to live and breathe. This wasn’t good, because she liked living and breathing: it helped her exist. But still, she knew the end of every month would be like this. They always had been, and would continue to be unless some kind of enormous windfall would come to her family and grant them enough money to buy adequate amounts of The Sleeping Dust for her condition.
That was not very likely.
From somewhere beyond the foot of her bed, Faith heard the front door of the house close, followed by a large and laborious fit of hacking coughs.
Her daddy was home.
“Hey daddy…” she whispered weakly, not expecting him to hear her.
“Hey babe,” he replied.
He had not actually heard her, but knew she greeted him every day all the same when she was awake.
He sauntered into her room and sat beside her on top of the bed.
“How’re you feeling today?” he asked, brushing back her long strands of brown hair.
“Okay,” she put on a brave face, eyes rolling involuntarily from fatigue, “I’m still here.”
“Hey, that’s great babe,” he smiled, “You know tomorrow’s the day, right? Our ship will come sailing in, and we’ll have no worries again. You’ll be able to go back to sleep, and you can be a little dreamer again.”
“’Kay,” she said, much happier now that someone was home with her, letting her know she only had to hold on for a little bit longer.
“Tell you what,” her dad smiled, “I’m gonna’ go get supper ready for when mom comes home, and when she does, we can bring the telebox in here and watch a little bit of the shows if you want.”
“Sounds good.”
“All right. See you in a bit, babe.”
He smiled and walked out of her room slowly, turning down the hall and making the short journey to the kitchen.
“God,” he whispered hollowly, “She gets worse every month…”
He didn’t like the fact that his baby girl was constantly in pain for extended periods of time, but then what good father would? And for that matter, what could he do about it?
Both he and his wife went to work everyday and worked as long as they were allowed to, and every month, they would be given enough money to pay for their tiny apartment, the bills that came, and the food that they ate. They would also be given a ration of The Sleeping Dust, which had, as of late, been in such short supply that buying any extra was not feasible by any means.
Now, for a normal family, there would be no problem: the amount rationed was enough to let a family of three sleep their daily requirements of 10 and 8 hours respectively. Unfortunately, Faith had a condition.
She, was a Dreamer.
“A Dreamer?” her mother had asked when they found out, “What does that mean? I don’t get what that means…”
“It’s quite fascinating, really,” the doctor explained, “Faith’s mind… like a few others of her age… lives in a different place than where the rest of us do. While her body might be here, her life and existence, is… well, for lack of a better word, it’s Elsewhere.
“Now… before you ask, no. No, I’m not really sure where her mind goes to, or why it does, but research is progressing,” the doctor smiled, “Some of the top existentialists at N. Consistency and Co. are piecing together what they can from studies, and their preliminary findings are suggesting that the Dreamers contribute to the balance of Everything, making sure things don’t tip and cause problems. But… sadly, nothings been proven yet, and until they are… you’re going to have some problems.”
“Problems? What kind of problems? I don’t like the sound of these problems…”
“Well, being a Dreamer, Faith needs lots of sleep. In fact, she’ll need to sleep more than she needs to wake, so that she can… well, continue to live. See, as long as her existence is maintained Elsewhere, her existence can be maintained here. But to do this, she needs more of The Sleeping Dust then is normally rationed, and unfortunately… since it’s not yet recognized as an occupation that helps maintain balance… there won’t be any more set aside for her, and even if both you and your husband cut back on your consumption… there’s a good chance that she still won’t have enough to keep sleeping an amount that’s healthy for her.
“But… the good news is, there are supplements. And… if you can’t afford those, there is a regimen that I can suggest that will, at the very least, help her continue existing. But beyond that… there’s not a whole lot I can do…
“Sorry…”
There was nothing worse than knowing you couldn’t help your little girl live a life a little bit above just fading away from Everything… but the truth was… Mr. Edwards was doing everything that he was capable of doing right now. Maybe one day.,. he’d be able to do more. But until that day came, Faith was stuck lying in her bed, writhing in pain, trying to be as existent as she could possibly be for long periods of a time, until the end of the month came…
And she could begin living again…
posted by B. Schatz @ 5:21 p.m.
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(B. Schatz)
Remotely Pretty
posted by B. Schatz @ 12:57 p.m.
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(B. Schatz)
The Everlast - Chapter Two - Here and There and Elsewhere #01
by B. Schatz
Back Then and There
Exactly forty-two days before, Peter Torrington was poking at his food with sheer disinterest. He was troubled quite deeply.
“I am troubled,” Peter mused, “Quite deeply.”
“Eat yer food,” his father stated gruffly while he shovelled through his own plate of food.
It had become the standard response to whatever Peter would say while at the dinner table.
“My toes are itchy.”
“Eat yer food.”
“
“Eat yer food.”
“I miss mom.”
“…don’ talk about yer mother that way.”
A pause.
“Now eat yer food.”
Peter’s father was not a warm man by any stretch of the imagination, a fact that Peter didn’t find entirely gratifying.
“I’m not hungry,” Peter mumbled.
“Eat yer food.”
“But if I do, I’ll explode and then I’d be dead,” Peter complained.
“Not likely,” his father grumbled as he stuck the last item of food that resided on his plate with his fork, and dropped it into his mouth.
“Are you still hungry?” Peter asked.
“Been workin’ all day. ‘Course I’m hungry.”
“You can have the rest of my food.”
“You will have the rest of your food.”
“It will just go to waste in my belly,” Peter claimed, “because it doesn’t want any more food, and it’ll just get rid of it later.”
Peter’s father eyed the plate of food.
“’Spose you’ve ate enough for the size of you,” he reasoned, grabbing the plate.
“Thank you dad.”
“Mff,” his dad replied, mouth full of food.
Peter slid away from the table and scurried out of the dining area door, emerging at a long hallway, made entirely out of wood. This wasn’t an unexpected sight to Peter, because he had seen this place with his own two eyes practically every single day he had been alive.
It was the main corridor of his father’s ship, which he had christened “The Everlast” on the day that Peter had been born.
“Look at our beautiful baby boy,” his mother had cooed, cradling Peter in her arms while lying comfortably on the snug hospital bed, “Isn’t he absolutely beautiful?”
Peter’s father grunted in recognition, and then changed the topic.
“I named the boat today.”
“Which boat, dear?”
“The family boat.”
“We have a boat?”
“We do now,” his father explained, “Have to have a place big enough an’ safe enough to raise a family, an’ a boat’s just the thing that’ll do it.”
“Charles, just because you were raised on a boat, doesn’t mean that every child should be,” she said, “Besides, I don’t like boats. They creak and they rock and they’re dangerous when there are storms. We could all drown and die or worse.”
“No we won’t,” he stated curtly, “You haven’t seen a finer boat, handcrafted by the finest boat craftsman in the whole of Everything.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“You’ve been building this boat in your spare time? Behind my back?”
“I build boats for a living,” he explained, “I paid myself for it, an’ worked on it at work. Didn’t hurt no one.”
“Charles…”
“Thought you might want to name it, seeings how I built it for you an’ the boy, an’ seeings how I’m not too good with the names and such,” he said.
His wife paused and thought.
“You really have your mind set on this, don’t you?”
He said nothing, and she sighed.
“The Everlast.”
He took a deep breath in through his nose, and stood up.
“Right. I’ll go paint ‘er on the side of the boat.”
They moved on the boat one day later, and a good forty-two days shy of ten and a half years later, Peter was running down the length of the boat to get to his room.
Arriving at this door, Peter took a quick glance down the hall to make sure that his father hadn’t decided better of his decision to let Peter go about the ship and followed. There was no sign of the big man.
With the thought that no one was watching him safely tucked into a fold of his brain, he quickly opened the door a crack, slipped inside, and closed it once again.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he turned around to face his room.
It was a little dark, as the tiny circular glass window at the side of his room showed the sun sinking low in the sky, so he made his way towards the desk that he kept in the far right corner of the room, careful not to trip on any of the items that he quite carelessly left on the floor.
Upon reaching the desk, he opened the top right drawer and pried open the false bottom, and took out a box of matches. He lit the lamp and it cast the entire room into a warm glow.
The light was comforting.
Now able to see much better, he walked over to his bed and crouched beside it, reaching below to extract a large paper map that he had created of Everything. Or rather, the amount of Everything that he had seen in his lifetime.
The drawing extended from one side to the other, and while several markings and doodles that applied to specific places were quite prevalent in several far-flung places, an entire half of the picture remained quite empty. Yes, it was true that living on a boat made it easy to travel the world, going from port to port and town to town as one pleased, and it was true that, as boat making work dried up in the various locales, Peter and his dad had would go to other places, however his father absolutely REFUSED to cross the line between Here and There.
He refused to tell Peter why that was, and Peter knew better than to ask.
But that didn’t stop Peter from thinking about how it would be like over on the other side. He had heard tales of wonderful things: Of souring dragons, of powerful wizards and of any number of fantastic beings that his little mind could only dream about.
One day, he knew that he would venture to the other side, and glimpse at their kind of life. He would go on grand adventures and explore the world beyond the one he knew, and become a person of myth and legend, to be whispered about and admired
Yes, one day, he would do it all: Because nothing could’ve been worse than his current mundane existence.
posted by B. Schatz @ 12:47 a.m.
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(B. Schatz)
“Ah. Hmm. Yes. Hmm. Quite.”
“Could you please keep your thoughts inside your head?”
“Apologies, dear brother. I did not realize they were leaking from my mouth.”
“Well, they were.”
“Terribly sorry.”
“Don’t mention it.”
The Ugly Boys were the owners of two of the finest minds in all of Everything, and they both knew this fact because… well, they were the owners of two of the finest minds in all of Everything. They had created miraculous creations, calculated difficult calculations, and were the driving force behind the ship’s assent into the sky.
And right now, they were putting the finishing touches on their plan to catch a star themselves.
“You shouldn’t be putting that there.”
“Have you seen the latest version of the schematics? This is where it’ll need to be.”
“You’re going to ruin everything!”
“Not if you ruin it first…”
At that moment, a knock arose from the door.
“What!?” they both grumbled sharply.
‘Pardon my intrusion,’ Pips stated while he walked into the room, ‘But the captain requests your attendance on the main deck. We’re arriving at the star.’
“You see, we’re here!”
“I’m not deaf.”
“Well, sometimes, you might as well be.”
“Just make sure that everything is in it’s proper place.”
“Everything is in it’s proper place.”
“I still think that you should be installing that component elsewhere.”
“You never look at the new schematics…”
‘Ahem?’
“We’ll be up shortly,” one of the Ugly Boys grumbled.
‘I shall alert the captain.’
“You know I hate it when you act like this.”
“And I hate it when you change the schematics.”
They loved each other quite dearly.
Ω
‘They say they will be ready momentarily sir,’ Pips took the news back to Peter.
“And do you believe them?”
‘I would certainly hope so,’ Pips stated, ‘An operation like this will surely be bringing the Starcrossers about quite soon, and the crew is already running on fumes as things are.’
“A simple yes or no, Pips.”
‘Hopefully,’ Pips replied, ‘I am in no mood to have blame pinned on me if they don’t follow through. If you are so worried, you can check on them yourselves.’
“It would be unfitting for a captain to run errands when he has a perfectly good crew to do such things for him,” Peter mused.
‘Oh, come off it. Everyone knows you can’t stand the sight of the Ugly Boys.’
“That is beside the point.”
The Ugly Boys, though smart, were indeed incredibly ugly. This was, quite ironically, a family trait that wasn’t exactly inherited. The Uglies, you see, believed in the adage that children were to be seen, and not heard, or else they were hit in the face with the large knobbly wooden stick that had been used in the Ugly family for generations.
Many an Ugly had gotten their face rearranged by the Ugly stick.
The Ugly Boys, however fared particularly bad before they escaped from their family and somehow managed to have their eyes, nose, mouth and ears misplaced amongst their respective faces. The sight of them had never ceased to give Peter the willies, which was why he was glad they mostly kept to themselves in their room.
And this was why his body cringed when they emerged from the lower decks, carrying an enormous silken looking cloth.
“Oh good. They’re here,” Peter gave a tepid smile.
“Sorry for taking so long!” one of them stated from their mouth at the top of their face, “This pinhead kept changing the plans.”
“Because your original plans were flawed.”
“Perfection is hardly flawed.”
Blinking his eyes and averting his gaze, Peter spoke, “Just get whatever you two have concocted ready. I doubt we have much-“
The sound that came about at that time would later be described as “that sucking noise that happens when you reach the bottom of a milkshake”. A second after the sound was heard, a great big wormhole type of hole appeared not too far from the ship, and slowly expelled a Starcrosser transport ship.
“Greetings from the N. Consistancy and Co.’s Starcrosser division!” the ship’s external voice projection system exclaimed, “We regret to inform you that you’ve either intentionally or unintentionally wandered far too close Star 4672 of the Hopeless Wonder quadrant, and will either have your molecules deconstructed, or be taken into custody, depending on how severe the infraction. We ask that you refrain from attacking during this process so that the safety of Everything, as well as it’s occupants, can be assured.”
Peter sighed despairingly as the entire crew looked toward him.
“Give whatever you have in your hands to the Ugly Boys,” he stated bravely.
“It looks as if we are going to have a fight on our hands.”
posted by B. Schatz @ 1:44 p.m.
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(B. Schatz)
The Soupy Toasterson Show
posted by B. Schatz @ 12:52 a.m.
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(B. Schatz)
The Everlast - Chapter 01 - Star Light, Star Bright #03
by B. Schatz
Peter emerged from the lower deck and took a look around him.
Surrounding him on all sides were pictures of the night sky, full of many stars that were glittering their golden sheen from great distances away, and one that was coming closer as his ship flowed through the air.
“There it is,” he said quite loudly, pointing straight ahead, “The solution to our troublesome lack of sleep.”
The crew cheered dimly, and a few even made the effort to raise an arm into the air and wave it in a weak form of celebration.
“Pips!”
‘Yes captain?’
“About how much time would you say we have before we’re close enough to catch it?”
‘I’d venture to say somewhere in between a moment and a jiffy,’ Pips offered, ‘Although my math could be quite off at this point in time.’
“Well, if you’re anywhere near being correct, you’ll need to take Lewis and stir up the Ugly Boys. Tell them that we’ll need their services with the net,” Peter commanded.
‘Lewis claims to be busy minding his hat,’ Pips quickly informed.
“Ah,” Peter paused, “Well, you best leave him to it then, and rouse the Uglies yourself.”
‘You can’t be serious, sir.’
Peter looked at Pips, making sure that he composed himself with an air of unquestionable leadership.
“You can never underestimate the importance of a well kept hat,” he stated.
Pips sighed.
‘Yes sir. I’ll rouse them right away.’
“Excellent,” Peter smiled, turning to look directly at the star.
It’s golden aura shimmered quite beautifully, casting a warm glow against the utter empty blackness of the space behind it.
Soon, it would be his.
Ω
Starcrosser Gower stepped aboard the transport vessel and immediately set to assessing the situation at hand using the patented John Gower method of obtaining information in a timely fashion.
“Can anyone tell me what’s going on here?” he stated gruffly.
“Blow it out yer hole!” came a response from the room.
Immediately triangulating the direction the words had come from, Gower shot towards a sheepish looking man wearing a hat who was trying really hard to look very busy with his keyboard and monitor.
“And what, exactly, was that all about?” he questioned venomously.
“What was what all about?” the man stated quite nervously.
“I heard what you said son, and I don’t appreciate the quality and tone of the words,” he grumbled.
“Aw, suck an egg,” came a reply.
“Excuse me?”
The nervous man sighed and turned around in the chair, “I’m sorry sir, it’s not me, it’s the hat.”
“You honestly expect me to believe that?”
“You heard the boy John,” a commanding voice sounded from behind his back, “Now leave him to his work.”
Gower closed his eyes in frustration, recognizing the voice within an instant.
“Bill, what are you doing here?” he asked quite bitterly while he turned to face the voice’s owner.
“Why, you know very well that I was promoted to Chief of Anomalies and Troublesome Events at the Hopeless Wonder,” Bill explained quite calmly, “Where else would I be when trouble finally brings itself to this division of Everything?”
“Apparently, on the side of the troublemaker, defending the snot-nosed and petulant,” John stated, pointing at the source of the ill-tempered remarks.
“Ah, yes, well, the remarks you heard were indeed quite course and rude, but there is no reason to blame young Mr. Hornby when it is his hat that’s to blame.”
“His hat?”
“Yes, his hat,” Bill grinned, “You are, no doubt, quite familiar with the protocol that states that all personnel located on the Hopeless Wonder, or on vessels associated with the Hopeless Wonder are to wear N. Consistency and Co.’s specially designed protective headwear correct?”
“Yes, but-“
“Well, Hornby here had the misfortune of being hired at a time when our supply was short, and so we had to give him one of the hats that had been made prior to the current run. All we had remaining in our stock was one of those ironic ‘Hard Hats’ that spews insults when provoked. Quaint little thing, but it gets quite cumbersome after you have to listen to it pontificate for long spats of time.”
“Your mother wears army boots!” it exclaimed ruefully.
“Indeed she does,” Bill stated serenely, “But sadly, her fashion sense will have to be a topic for another day. We seem to have yet another star crisis on our hands that must be dealt with presently, but you’ll have to forgive me if I’m a bit foggy on the details, having just been notified of the trouble myself. If you would care to expand on the case for me, that would be greatly appreciated John.”
Starcrosser Gower opened his mouth and tersely replied, “I too, have just arrived, and was attempting to assess the situation myself.”
“Ah, so you know nothing as well,” Bill stated, leaning over Hornby’s shoulder to take a look at what his monitor was showing, “I suppose that is the punishment I reap for assuming you knew of your assignment.”
Gower seethed silently.
“Interesting,” Bill whispered, looking at the screen with an intense interest, “Quite interesting indeed.”
“What is interesting?” Gower demanded to know.
Bill pointed at the screen, “It’s a ship.”
“Thanks Tips,” the Hard Hat grumbled.
“A sailing ship. As in the kind that sails the watery High Seas with masts and scaffolding and the whole glorious works. How exactly it is floating it’s way through the
“John? See to it that when we confront this ship that we take whoever is in charge into custody.”
“Bill, surely as the Chief of Anomalies and Troublesome Events at the Hopeless Wonder, you are aware that protocol about any vessels that approach a star without the proper clearance: To prevent any chance of damage to the existence of Everything, the offender must be eradicated, whether the man in charge would like to satisfy his curiosity for floating boats or not.”
Bill looked at John, his smile remaining calm.
“Starcrosser Gower, I understand your concern. Really, I do,” he stated quite evenly, “You are a very ‘by the book’ kind of fellow, always making sure that Everything continues to exist unfettered by the various evils that plague our world, but… as you will quickly learn, working your way through the hierarchy as a Starcrosser, things aren’t always as black and white as the protocols in the handbook we are given when we start training. There is a larger game being played, and we’re all just pieces. So, when someone of higher rank gives you a specific command, you carry it out without any questions. Understood?”
John’s face told Bill that he was angry, so his mouth decided that it didn’t need to say away before his legs carried him away in a huff.
“
“Indeed,” Bill agreed, “Let’s move onward, everyone. We’ve got Everything to think of and only so much time to do it in.”
posted by B. Schatz @ 5:28 p.m.
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(B. Schatz)
As I near the average I'll have to hit ever single day if I want to build up to 50,000 words, I'm taking a break to take a look at how the whole experiment is going.
posted by B. Schatz @ 4:06 p.m.
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