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Post By Visionary and Dancer Sun Oct 10, 2004 at 04:09:16 pm EDT |
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Dancer/Visionary "Follies of Youth" Severely-Limited Series #1: "I Hardly Ever Need the Skin On My Thighs In Any Case" | |
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Visionary scratched his chin in his best approximation of pondering. An e-mail response was called for, but mild-mannered waitress Sarah Shepherdson had expressed a declining interest in the current thread's title. Admittedly, it was hard to compete for attention with the various works of Roni Y. Avis, which tended to offer all sorts of entertainment and improvements for certain bits of the receiver's anatomy. Visionary wasn't sure he could offer any such thing, although he supposed if he chose a sufficiently small font he could make the attractive brunette scrunch her face up and squint at the screen. While this likely wouldn't much improve Sarah's anatomy, it might provide the other denizens of the public library some measure of entertainment. Or maybe get her hit upon by a passing optometrist. Of course, some would question why Visionary would go to the trouble of composing an e-mail at all for somebody who lived all of a handful of blocks away from his offices at either the Lair Mansion or Parodiopolis University. (And yes, the room at PU still counted as an office, no matter what the janitor tended to store there between the Regulars' teaching hours.) In truth, Vizh did feel kind of guilty for not simply hashing things out face to face, but it wasn't entirely his fault. Sarah had recently found much less time to visit the Lair itself, and Visionary was trying to cut down on trips to the Bean and Donut since Kerry had recently taken the opportunity to remark upon his current physique. (The term "wide load" came up repeatedly, which was directly attributed to "constantly stuffing his slack-jawed cruller-hole". This might not have been quite so scarring as to cause a change in snacking habits had Kerry's remarks been said to him personally, instead of to that interviewer from the Parodiopolis Times Weekender Magazine.) So it was that Visionary found himself staring at a computer screen and trying desperately to come up with something clever to use as an e-mail title. It occured to him that letter writing was a dying artform, anyway... Surely it was hard to imagine that someday, 100 years from now, anyone would be making emotional documentaries complete with narrators solemnly reading the letters of the heroes of this generation. He tried to imagine someone with the rich voice of a James Earl Jones reading one of Dream's e-mails, complete with emoticons, multiple references to things like "casual f*** buddies" and whatever that coded internet speak was that he used repeatedly. Visionary would have asked Hallie to decipher "C4N4DI4NZ R 411 F46Z!!!!!!!!!111@" but knowing Dream, he was afraid it was actually some kind of link to a porn story involving cartoon characters and maybe a goat or two, and frankly he wasn't sure how the sentient computer would take his interest in that. He realized with a sigh that he was spending more time trying to come up with an appropriate e-mail title than he was likely to spend writing the e-mail itself. With a promise to eventually think of something jaunty and clever he scrolled down to the heart of the matter instead. ----- Original Message ----- From: < vizh@comcast.net > To: "Sarah Shepherdson" < sarahs@virgin.net > Sent: Thursday, October 07, 2004 2:11 AM Subject: Visionary and the Case of the Rambling E-mail I've thought it over and I still don't think euthanasia is a really effective way of controlling Kerry - unless we are allowed to quietly put spiffy to sleep. I should think an infusion in his Miracle Grow or Baby Bio would do the trick. But Kerry hasn't yet reached the stage where I completely think she's, as you put it, "a spawn of Beelzebub plotting the downfall of all that is good with a glee that would have made Nero look like a Sunday School teacher." After all, you got your perfume back eventually, and not all of it had been used as an accelerant. Also, my scalds are healing quite nicely, thank you, and I hardly ever need the skin on my thighs in any case. Perhaps we are just forgetting what it was like to be young ourselves? Admittedly when I was sixteen I was less fascinated by fire and atomic weaponry than Kerry, but we all go through that rebellious phase. For example, I started wearing a lemon yellow trenchcoat that, er, anyway, I'm sure we all committed follies of youth. Please say hello to the crullers for me. Vizh ----- Original Message ----- From: "Sarah Shepherdson" < sarahs@virgin.net > To: < vizh@comcast.net > Sent: Thursday, October 07, 2004 9.45AM Subject: Re: Visionary and the Case of the Rambling E-mail LOL! The crullers are lonely. No matter how wide your load is getting you need to get down to the diner and pay them a visit  > I'm sure we all committed follies of youth. Is that another knock at my Spark slut test scores? You know that online character test is ridiculously skewed against people who have healthy physical needs, and is completely weighted about that whole group sex thing. I don't see how I could have got only one percent less than CSFB! And that one percent has to come from dating farmyard animals, there's no other answer!! Anyway, any follies I may or may not have committed in my youth were never as bad as conquering a third world nation. Well, that one time, but it was the last night Cabaret cast party and we were dressed as Nazis, so you can see how a timid nation might over-react. Anyway, I wish I *was* sixteen again, along with you and all the LL types, so you could see how responsibly I did behave back then compared to Kerry and all the others. I do! Sarah And in a dimension far away, the mischievous Mxyzptlk-like imp from Librarian's stories called Eddie watched the whole correspondence on his cosmic TV screen, grins, and says "Granted!" The next morning, Dancer woke up to find she was sixteen again. And so did all the rest of the Lair Legion. [To be continued - by Vizh  ]Here's what L! says about Eddie: The *th Dimension A little chunk of Land, floating in a sea of white nothingness that is this dimension. A height challenged man sits on a couch watching TV. He is wearing a green trench coat with yellow trim. His blue bowler with a red band is slightly to the left. He has a black t-shirt on, with stone washed denim jeans. His shoes are untied. His name is Eddie. The TV he is watching is a special TV, It can see anything, anywhere, any when. Eddie has spent awhile watching the TV. Flipping the channels like there is no tomorrow. Which there might not be, but that is a different story. Eddie's Dimension and the Parodyverse come into range of each other about every other 90 days. |
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