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  • #6255
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    My Grandparents

    George Samuel Marshall 1903-1995

    Florence Noreen Warren (Nora) 1906-1988

    I always called my grandfather Mop, apparently because I couldn’t say the name Grandpa, but whatever the reason, the name stuck. My younger brother also called him Mop, but our two cousins did not.

    My earliest memories of my grandparents are the picnics.  Grandma and Mop loved going out in the car for a picnic. Favourite spots were the Clee Hills in Shropshire, North Wales, especially Llanbedr, Malvern, and Derbyshire, and closer to home, the caves and silver birch woods at Kinver Edge, Arley by the river Severn, or Bridgnorth, where Grandma’s sister Hildreds family lived.  Stourbridge was on the western edge of the Black Country in the Midlands, so one was quickly in the countryside heading west.  They went north to Derbyshire less, simply because the first part of the trip entailed driving through Wolverhampton and other built up and not particularly pleasant urban areas.  I’m sure they’d have gone there more often, as they were both born in Derbyshire, if not for that initial stage of the journey.

    There was predominantly grey tartan car rug in the car for picnics, and a couple of folding chairs.  There were always a couple of cushions on the back seat, and I fell asleep in the back more times than I can remember, despite intending to look at the scenery.  On the way home Grandma would always sing,  “Show me the way to go home, I’m tired and I want to go to bed, I had a little drink about an hour ago, And it’s gone right to my head.”  I’ve looked online for that song, and have not found it anywhere!

    Grandma didn’t just make sandwiches for picnics, there were extra containers of lettuce, tomatoes, pickles and so on.  I used to love to wash up the picnic plates in the little brook on the Clee Hills, near Cleeton St Mary.  The close cropped grass was ideal for picnics, and Mop and the sheep would Baaa at each other.

    Mop would base the days outting on the weather forcast, but Grandma often used to say he always chose the opposite of what was suggested. She said if you want to go to Derbyshire, tell him you want to go to Wales.  I recall him often saying, on a gloomy day, Look, there’s a bit of clear sky over there.  Mop always did the driving as Grandma never learned to drive. Often she’d dust the dashboard with a tissue as we drove along.

    My brother and I often spent the weekend at our grandparents house, so that our parents could go out on a Saturday night.  They gave us 5 shillings pocket money, which I used to spend on two Ladybird books at 2 shillings and sixpence each.  We had far too many sweets while watching telly in the evening ~ in the dark, as they always turned the lights off to watch television.  The lemonade and pop was Corona, and came in returnable glass bottles.  We had Woodpecker cider too, even though it had a bit of an alcohol content.

    Mop smoked Kensitas and Grandma smoked Sovereign cigarettes, or No6, and the packets came with coupons.  They often let me choose something for myself out of the catalogue when there were enough coupons saved up.

    When I had my first garden, in a rented house a short walk from theirs, they took me to garden nurseries and taught me all about gardening.  In their garden they had berberis across the front of the house under the window, and cotoneaster all along the side of the garage wall. The silver birth tree on the lawn had been purloined as a sapling from Kinver edge, when they first moved into the house.  (they lived in that house on Park Road for more than 60 years).  There were perennials and flowering shrubs along the sides of the back garden, and behind the silver birch, and behind that was the vegeatable garden.  Right at the back was an Anderson shelter turned into a shed, the rhubarb, and the washing line, and the canes for the runner beans in front of those.  There was a little rose covered arch on the path on the left, and privet hedges all around the perimeter.

    My grandfather was a dental technician. He worked for various dentists on their premises over the years, but he always had a little workshop of his own at the back of his garage. His garage was full to the brim of anything that might potentially useful, but it was not chaotic. He knew exactly where to find anything, from the tiniest screw for spectacles to a useful bit of wire. He was “mechanicaly minded” and could always fix things like sewing machines and cars and so on.

    Mop used to let me sit with him in his workshop, and make things out of the pink wax he used for gums to embed the false teeth into prior to making the plaster casts. The porcelain teeth came on cards, and were strung in place by means of little holes on the back end of the teeth. I still have a necklace I made by threading teeth onto a string. There was a foot pedal operated drill in there as well, possibly it was a dentists drill previously, that he used with miniature grinding or polishing attachments. Sometimes I made things out of the pink acrylic used for the final denture, which had a strong smell and used to harden quickly, so you had to work fast. Initially, the workshop was to do the work for Uncle Ralph, Grandmas’s sisters husband, who was a dentist. In later years after Ralph retired, I recall a nice man called Claude used to come in the evening to collect the dentrures for another dental laboratory. Mop always called his place of work the laboratory.

    Mop used to let me sit with him in his workshop, and make things out of the pink wax he used for gums to embed the false teeth into prior to making the plaster casts. The porcelain teeth came on cards, and were strung in place by means of little holes on the back end of the teeth. I still have a necklace I made by threading teeth onto a string. There was a foot pedal operated drill in there as well, possibly it was a dentists drill previously, that he used with miniature grinding or polishing attachments. Sometimes I made things out of the pink acrylic used for the final denture, which had a strong smell and used to harden quickly, so you had to work fast. Initially, the workshop was to do the work for Uncle Ralph, Grandmas’s sisters husband, who was a dentist. In later years after Ralph retired, I recall a nice man called Claude used to come in the evening to collect the dentrures for another dental laboratory. Mop always called his place of work the laboratory.

    Grandma loved books and was always reading, in her armchair next to the gas fire. I don’t recall seeing Mop reading a book, but he was amazingly well informed about countless topics.
    At family gatherings, Mops favourite topic of conversation after dinner was the atrocities committed over the centuries by organized religion.

    My grandfather played snooker in his younger years at the Conservative club. I recall my father assuming he voted Conservative, and Mop told him in no uncertain terms that he’s always voted Labour. When asked why he played snooker at the Conservative club and not the Labour club, he said with a grin that “it was a better class of people”, but that he’d never vote Conservative because it was of no benefit to the likes of us working people.

    Grandma and her sister in law Marie had a little grocers shop on Brettel Lane in Amblecote for a few years but I have to personal recollection of that as it was during the years we lived in USA. I don’t recall her working other than that. She had a pastry making day once a week, and made Bakewell tart, apple pie, a meat pie, and her own style of pizza. She had an old black hand operated sewing machine, and made curtains and loose covers for the chairs and sofa, but I don’t think she made her own clothes, at least not in later years. I have her sewing machine here in Spain.
    At regular intervals she’d move all the furniture around and change the front room into the living room and the back into the dining room and vice versa. In later years Mop always had the back bedroom (although when I lived with them aged 14, I had the back bedroom, and painted the entire room including the ceiling purple). He had a very lumpy mattress but he said it fit his bad hip perfectly.

    Grandma used to alternate between the tiny bedroom and the big bedroom at the front. (this is in later years, obviously) The wardrobes and chests of drawers never changed, they were oak and substantial, but rather dated in appearance. They had a grandfather clock with a brass face and a grandmother clock. Over the fireplace in the living room was a Utrillo print. The bathroom and lavatory were separate rooms, and the old claw foot bath had wood panels around it to make it look more modern. There was a big hot water geyser above it. Grandma was fond of using stick on Fablon tile effects to try to improve and update the appearance of the bathroom and kitchen. Mop was a generous man, but would not replace household items that continued to function perfectly well. There were electric heaters in all the rooms, of varying designs, and gas fires in living room and dining room. The coal house on the outside wall was later turned into a downstairs shower room, when Mop moved his bedroom downstairs into the front dining room, after Grandma had died and he was getting on.

    Utrillo

    Mop was 91 when he told me he wouldn’t be growing any vegetables that year. He said the sad thing was that he knew he’d never grow vegetables again. He worked part time until he was in his early 80s.

    #6213
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    “Well, I wish you would stop interrupting me while I fill in the empty pages of my pink notebook with gripping stories, I keep losing my thread. Most annoying!” Liz sighed.  She wrote Liz snapped at first and then erased it and changed it to Liz sighed. Then she added Liz sighed with the very mildest slight irritation and then became exasperated with the whole thing and told herself to just leave it and try to move on!

    But really, Finnley’s timing, as usual! Just as Liz had worked out the direct line to the characters fathers mothers fathers fathers mothers fathers mothers fathers father and mother, Finnley wafts through the scene, making herself conspicuous, and scattering Liz’s tenuous concentration like feathers in the wind.

    “And I don’t want to hear a word about apostrophes either,” she added, mentally noting the one in don’t.

    “Oh, now I see what you’re doing, Liz!” Gordon appeared, smoking a pipe. “Very clever!”

    “Good God, Gordon, you’re smoking a pipe!” It was an astonishing sight. “What an astonishing sight! Where are your nuts?”

    “Well, it’s like this,” Gordon grinned, “I’ve been eating nuts in every scene for, how long? I just can’t face another nut.”

    Liz barked out a loud cackle.  “You think that’s bad, have you seen what they keep dressing me in? Anyway, ” she asked, “What do you mean clever and you see what I’m doing? What am I doing?”

    “The code, of course!  I spotted it right away,” Gordon replied smugly.

    Finnley heaved herself out of the pool and walked over to Liz and Gordon. (is it Gordon or Godfrey? Liz felt the cold tendrils of dread that she had somehow gone off the track and would have to retrace her steps and get in a  fearful muddle Oh no!  )

    A splat of blue algae across her face, as Finnley flicked the sodden strands of dyed debris off that clung to her hair and body, halted the train of thought that Liz had embarked on, and came to an abrupt collision with a harmless wet fish, you could say, as it’s shorter than saying  an abrupt collision with a bit of dyed blue algae. 

    Liz yawned.  Finnley was already asleep.

    “What was in that blue dye?”

    #6202
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    While Finnley was making the tea, Liz consulted the Possibe L’Oracle for a reading. It said:

    “We are the collective of the Ancient Draigh’Ones, we greet you and your queries, Liz.

     Well, well. Looking at the concepts you brought up in your last offering to this story thread, we couldn’t really pick up what your energy was trying to express.
    Forgive us, humans still elude us at times. 

     We must withhold points for continuity {audible snort} though, as it feels it needs to gather more support from your fellow companions {snort} for now. But who knows, you may just be a pioneer. Go on trailblazing Liz!

     Psst. We’ll give you a hint, here are some trending concepts here you may want to check out for yourself.”

    Perplexa the robot provided her typically superfluous additional information, with baffling lists of numbers, but Liz noted the many mentions of cleanliness and cleaning implements, and wondered why that hadn’t manifested into a marvelously clean house.

    Leaf (1 ), with mentions by Flove (1) — last seen in  #6198, 2 days ago
    Cleanliness (1 ), with mentions by Flove (1) — last seen in  #6200, 22 hours ago
    The Glow (1 ), with mentions by Flove (1) — last seen in  #6200, 22 hours ago
    The Edge (1 ), with mentions by Tracy (1) — last seen in  #6199, 2 days ago
    Cleaning tools (1 ), with mentions by Tracy (1) — last seen in  #6199, 2 days ago
    Brush (1 ), with mentions by Tracy (1) — last seen in  #6199, 2 days ago
    Jeffrey Combs (1 ), with mentions by Flove (1) — last seen in  #6198, 2 days ago
    The Times (1 ), with mentions by Flove (1) — last seen in  #6198, 2 days ago
    Drama (1 ), with mentions by Flove (1) — last seen in  #6198, 2 days ago
    Fern (1 ), with mentions by Flove (1) — last seen in  #6198, 2 days ago
    Time (1 ), with mentions by Flove (1) — last seen in  #6198, 2 days ago

    #6196
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Ay, the framework knittin’ were ‘ard work, but it were our own, and better by a mile than what come next. We ‘ad the frame in our home and all the family helped, the girls’d be the seamers and the spool threaders and many a fine stocking we made in our cottages, until those industrialists and capitalists came to our fair dales with their factories and such and took our livelihoods from under our noses.

    We ‘ad a needle maker in our village, a miller and a baker, and a dressmaker. We ‘ad farms and a dairy and a butcher, and all the old families in our parish ‘ad their place. There’s always those that find work hard, and those that find it rewarding, but even them as found the framework knittin’ ‘ard soon changed their tune about the framework knittin’ being hard when they was doubled over under gods green earth all the day long in the coal mines.

    Ay, the changes wrought upon our fair parish wreaked an unholy disruption upon the face of village life.  It were the inclosures act what started our downfall, when our common land was took from us, that were indeed the beginning of the end of our fine community of largely honest souls, and even the good nature of the gent from the hall and the Parish poor fund couldn’t halt the downfall.

    Ay and I’ve traveled to the future and seen the ungoldy sight of it now. The old farm on the turnpike road surrounded now by house upon house and not an onion nor a carrot to be seen growing in their gardens, and the fronts all hardened floors for those contraptions they move around in, and empty all day long with not a sign of life until nightfall when they all come home and go inside and shut the doors, and never a one passing the time of day with their neighbours over the garden fence, and not a chicken or a cow in sight.

    There’s no needlemaker now, and the mill’s been knocked down, and there are painted lines on all the hard roads, although I will say that ugly as they are they don’t get near so rutted and muddy when the weather’s bad.

    I can’t stay long when I visit the future with that woman who comes to call upon us asking questions. I can’t stay long at all.

    #6178
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Nora woke to the sun streaming  in the little dormer window in the attic bedroom. She stretched under the feather quilt and her feet encountered the cool air, an intoxicating contrast to the snug warmth of the bed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so well and was reluctant to awaken fully and confront the day. She felt peaceful and rested, and oddly, at home.

    Unfortunately that thought roused her to sit and frown, and look around the room.  The dust was dancing in the sunbeams and rivulets of condensation trickled down the window panes.   A small statue of an owl was silhouetted on the sill, and a pitcher of dried herbs or flowers, strands of spider webs sparkled like silver thread between the desiccated buds.

    An old whicker chair in the corner was piled with folded blankets and bed linens, and the bookshelf behind it  ~ Nora threw back the covers and padded over to the books. Why were they all facing the wall?   The spines were at the back, with just the pages showing. Intrigued, Nora extracted a book to see what it was, just as a gentle knock sounded on the door.

    Yes? she said, turning, placing the book on top of the pile of bedclothes on the chair, her thoughts now on the events of the previous night.

    “I expect you’re ready for some coffee!” Will called brightly. Nora opened the door, smiling. What a nice man he was, making her so welcome, and such a pleasant evening they’d spent, drinking sweet home made wine and sharing stories.  It had been late, very late, when he’d shown her to her room.  Nora has been tempted to invite him in with her (very tempted if the truth be known) and wasn’t quite sure why she hadn’t.

    “I slept so well!” she said, thanking him as he handed her the mug.  “It looks like a lovely day today,” she added brightly, and then frowned a little. She didn’t really want to leave.  She was supposed to continue her journey, of course she knew that.  But she really wanted to stay a little bit longer.

    “I’ve got a surprise planned for lunch,” he said, “and something I’d like to show you this morning.  No rush!”  he added with a twinkly smile.

    Nora beamed at him and promptly ditched any thoughts of continuing her trip today.

    “No rush” she repeated softly.

    #6098
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Liz usually rolled her eyes when anyone said “Do the math!” partly because the correct word was maths, not math, but mainly because, well,  she just wasn’t a maths sort of person.  But when the whale said this, she felt fortified and vindicated:

    “On the 46,741 words which were written here, you have provided 19,821.
    In other words, you have contributed towards 42.4 % of all words spoken on this thread.”

    It remained to be seen what the results of her experimental shift in duties with Finnley would result in.  While surreptitiously dusting Finnley’s desk, Liz had noted the catalogues of holiday cottages prominently placed, and evidence of actual writing nowhere to be found.

    Time would tell.

    #6092
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    There’s nobody at all coming to see to my supper anymore, the girl that brought my lunch (a stale cheese sandwich again) said it was because of the curfew. I said, Oh the quarantine and she said, Oh no, not that anymore so I said Oh, is the virus over then, and she said Oh no, far from it, but that’s not what the curfew is for now, and I looked at her and wondered if they’d all lost their marbles.

    She said it’s Marshall law out there now and I smiled at that, I used to know a nice girl by the name of Marshall, can’t recall where from mind you, but anyway then I realized she meant martial law when she showed me her arm. Great big bruise there was, she said it was from a rubber bullet.   Seems to me they’re getting senile young these days and I wonder where it will all end.

    Then she starts telling me about piles of bricks everywhere, and I’m wondering where this is going because it makes no sense to me.  She says some people say there are piles of bricks appearing everywhere, but she can’t be sure, she said, because lots of other people are saying there aren’t any piles of bricks at all, and I’m thinking, who the hell cares so much about piles of bricks anyway?  Then she looks at me as if I’m the daft one.

    It’s a pity we don’t see piles of decent food appearing, I said, instead of bricks, looking pointedly at the cheese sandwich.  She said,  Think yourself lucky, with what can only be described as a dark look.

    I thought I’d change the subject, as we didn’t seem to be getting anywhere, and asked her if she’d be kind enough to pick me up some embroidery thread on her way past the emporium, and she made a peculiar noise and said Aint no shops open, they’re all boarded up. I was about to ask why, and she must have read my mind because she said, Riots, that’s why.

    It’s a good job my hip’s so much better now that the weather’s dry, because I’m going to have to make my escape soon and see what the hell’s going on out there.

    #6077
    AvatarJib
    Participant

    Finnley, stop pacing like that with that concerned look of yours, you make me dizzy. Is that too difficult a task to hire a secretary?”

    Finnley rolled her eyes. “Not at all, Madam. I already found you a pearl.”

    “You mean the perfect one for me?”

    “No I mean, she’s called Pearl. She’ll start tomorrow. What concerns me is something else entirely. Something strange, if you ask me. But you never ask, so I’m telling you.”

    “Well, this whole conversation started because I asked you.”

    “You asked me because you thought it was related to your previous request.”

    “Then tell me and stop brooding. It’s killing the mood.”

    Finnley snorted. “If you want to know, someone is throwing things on the balcony. Children things. The other day I found that cheap toy to make soap bubbles. And then it was a small blue children’s plastic sand shovel. And today they dropped a red bucket.”

    Liz tried to laugh, but it was more of a cackle. “Isn’t that Godfrey or Roberto playing with you?” she asked.

    “I’ve asked Godfrey and I’m positive it’s not him because it’s driving him nut too. We asked Roberto because he’s been attempting to teach tricks to the dogs. A waste of time if you ask me, letting the garden going to the dogs,” she smirked.

    “Then, was it Roberto and the dogs?”

    “Not at all! We kept an eye on him while he was training the dogs. Nothing. But the objects keep coming. I’m telling you either we have a ghost or a portal to another dimension in this mansion.”

    “That sounds like a nice idea,” said Liz, pouting at the possibilities.

    “You wouldn’t say that if another you came into this thread.”

    #6063

    In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

    TracyTracy
    Participant

    turning head high roberto needed kitchen breath

    star kept thread gave woods fox

    mine taste mad

    told vince next normal change

    #6060

    In reply to: Snooteries

    EricEric
    Keymaster

    Dear Snoot,

    Do you know the center of your maze?

    Can you travel between threads of life?

    Can you teach us?

    — A mazed explorer.

    #6024

    In reply to: Story Bored

    FloveFlove
    Participant

    Story Bored 8

    one

    Liz was waxing hysterical to her publisher. “I tell you, Bronkel, you complain of the loose threads wandering into nothingness, the deranged and meaningless story lines … turns out it isn’t a personality flaw; it’s those lonely vacations in the desert where I was forced to be the boy my mother always wanted.” 

    two

    (plagiarised)

    “Oh that’s a fantastic idea Becky!” encouraged Tina (anxious to divert attention from the fact her egg shampoo had turned her own hair green) when Becky suggested tentatively that perhaps she could try Al’s advanced visualisation techniques to turn this disastrous start to her wedding day around.

    “Yes, imagine it as you would like it to be, no matter how unrealistic it may seem. Imagine looking in the mirror and seeing your skin glowing like a glowing diamond. After all, you have nothing to lose Becky-pooh.”

    three

    Tifikijoo Island has been a casualty of rising sea levels. The question is, who is seeking to repopulate the island with giant spiders?

    #5949
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    Miss Bossy looked gloomily at the figures.

    Newsreel sparklines

    “Our paper was already hanging by a thread, but if we want to survive we’ll have to shift completely to digital.”

    “That, or we can go into selling recycled bog rolls…” Hilda started to laugh heartily on her Xoom screen.

    She was soon followed by Connie. “Can’t let good paper go to waste, can we?”

    “How’s your coverage of confinement in Wales, Continuity?” Miss Bossy asked.

    “Gorgeously! We were expecting zombies, but we got an invasion of daring goats. Been trying to snatch pics all morning.”

    A repressed giggle started to be heard.

    Miss Bossy rolled her eyes. “Mute if you don’t speak, guys.”

    Hilda ventured “Maybe it’s the whale?”

    The giggles continued to add to one another.

    Ricardo moved his webcam to remove the glare from the ceiling light causing a sudden roll of laughter from Connie who remembered a video with a lady streaming unwittingly from her loo break during a very formal videoconference with shocked pause on all her colleagues’ faces before she realised to shut down the cam.

    It was only at the mention of carrots that Miss Bossy started to lose it too, confirming the start of a laughter epidemic.

    #5692
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    “Not so fast, Granola,” Lucinda spoke the words aloud. “One you are in a story, you can never leave. And not only that,” she continued ominously, “No story is ever finished. No thread is ever snapped.”

    #5677
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    “You’re back just in time for the fancy dress party, FinnleyRoberto,” she gave him a piercing look as if to say don’t contradict me, “Roberto is going to come as Falla Partland, the well known writer of romances..”

    Finnley snorted. “And what are you coming as? One of your long forgotten characters, a neglected thread jumper?  A fraught character left dangling on a cliff hanger for months on end?  A confused character, wondering what happened to linear time? A frantic character with the still undelivered urgent message?”

    “No need to go on so, Finnley. Do try and get a grip. Roberto and I would like a bottle of something, see to it please.”

    “I’ll come as a downtrodden but surprisingly resilient and mouthy subordinate character, who secretly rules the roost,” replied the recurring character with a characteristic smirk.

    Roberto turned away to hide his smile, pretending to dust the giraffe bookends.  He had been lucky so far in his role as one of her characters.  He loved gardening, and had always had a weakness for pink.  It could be worse. Much worse.

    #5583
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    For background ideas and “what’s happening now already?” about the Aunties au Pair thread:

    • June
    • April
    • Norma (Noor Mary)
    • May (Merhnaz)
    • August
    • Pres. Lump
    • Barron
    #4868

    In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

    TracyTracy
    Participant

    sorry uncle, whatever wall side leave company
    muttered inspector
    follow thread heat
    sound paused
    places feet
    possibly known months followed morning

    #4867

    In reply to: The Stories So Near

    EricEric
    Keymaster

    As it happens…

    POP-IN THREAD (Maeve, Lucinda, Shawn-Paul, Jerk, [Granola])

    Maeve and Shawn-Paul have left the Inn in Australia to travel to Tikfijikoo. What they are still doing there is anybody’s guess. Might have do with dolls, and rolling with it.

    In Canada, Lucinda has enrolled in a creative fiction course, and is doing progress… of sorts.

    Granola managed to escape the red crystal she was trapped in, after it cracked enough due to the pull of her friends’ memories.

    FLYING FISH INN THREAD (Mater/Finly, Idle/Coriander/Clove, Devan, Prune, [Tiku])

    The Inn is back to its normal routine, after the bout of flu & collective black-out.

    Connie and Hilda have come out of the mines.

    The others, we don’t know.

    DOLINE THREAD (Arona, Sanso/Lottie, Ugo, Albie)

    In the Doline, Arona has reunited with Vincentius, but is not ready for a family life of commitments.

    NEWSREEL THREAD (Ms Bossy, Hilda/Connie, Sophie, Ricardo)

    Sharon, Gloria and Mavis, are undergoing some cool fun in the cryochambers for beauty treatments.

    Ms Bossy & Ricardo are speechless. Literally.

    LIZ THREAD (Finnley, Liz, Roberto, Godfrey)

    There’s always something happening. Listing it is not the problem, but keeping track is.

    DRAGONHEARTWOOD THREAD (Glynnis, Eleri, Fox/Gorrash, Rukshan)

    Rukshan is in the doldrums of the land of Giants’, an unexplored parallel dimension.
    Gorrash has started to crystallize back to life, but nobody noticed yet.

    Cackletown & the reSurgence (Bea, Ed Steam & Surge team, etc.)

    Ed is back to the Cackletown dimension after some reconnaissance job on the whole dolls story interference. Might have spooked Maeve a little, but given the lack of anything surgey, have sort of closed this case and gone back to HQ.

    #4862
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    “Init been quiet as being caught in the doldruffs, my Mavis?” Sha was sandwiched in the cryogenic apparatus like a tartine in a toaster, with her ample person protruding like cheese squeezed in too much.

    The door flung open.

    “Good Lord, aren’t them splendigious, those little tarts, meringue and all.”

    Berenice, Barb’s niece, trotting in his steps, taking her role as the new temp assistant very seriously was about to voice a response that he quickly tutted away. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

    “Took me a while to find out the thread though, buried through all that poubelle creative thinking and monologues, and bla and bla. Action all gone missing safe for a little excitement in Tik…” He stopped, looking around suspiciously. “They’re here, I know. Stop it, now. Hey. Shut up!”

    He turned to Berenice. “I wasn’t talking to you. Who are you by the way? Has Liz or Lucinda written you in?”

    Sha, and Glo, and Mavis, all squeezed in the cryotanks were not wasting a drop of the show.

    “He’s been acting all strange, since he cracked that red crystal.”
    “Shht, Glo. You don’t want him to get mad and stop all our beauty treatment. I can feel my skin tighten and dewrinkle.”
    “T’is like ironing, fussure. Some steam and a good hot iron to remove the wrinkles.”
    “Ahahah, wrinkles yourself, they’re more like crevices, hihihi!”
    “But first, nuffin like a ice treatment to tighten the glutes.”
    “Oh uhuh, haha, she said glutes like a snotty beauty specialist. Next she’ll say we need to do Pontius Pilates…”

    Berenice couldn’t help herself. She blurted out in one quick sentence “But what are you planning to do with them, Doctor?”

    He paused a moment his conversation with the invisible guests then turned nonchalently at B.

    “But just… perfecting them, sweet thing. Oh, and love what you did with the beehive.”

    #4793
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    Bea!” Mari Fe called, “activate thread portal for a switch of realities please.”

    [>>>>] The man in the tux with the waxed mustache suddenly popped out from the plane, and back to his headquarters.

    His reconnaissance of the asset went fairly well, even if he feared he had her spooked a little. The poor thing seemed a bit soft on the inside despite her semblance of swagger.

    Ed Steam’s armoured bears were fast asleep at the entrance, when he reappeared at the center of operations. The full team was almost reassembled: Aqua Luna had been the easiest to convince, though not the easiest to find, followed by Mari Fe, Cornella, Madame Li, Kiki Razwa, Björk, Skye, Jeremy the map dancer and some others recovered from limbo threads of realities.

    Cackletown, despite the crowing noise of Maurice the cackling rooster, was a safe interspace reality to hide his base of operations.

    #4782
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    “Who wrote this into the story?” Liz peered over her spectacles at Godfrey, who was twitching nervously. “I thought we agreed on no more thread crashing?”

    “I didn’t have any choice, Liz,” he replied, red faced. “Finnley said she’d leave the script altogether and find another story, if we didn’t send her to another thread for a holiday.”

    “She threatened to do what!” gasped Liz, incredulous. “Really! You just can’t get the…”

    “Please!” Godfrey held his hand up. “Please, don’t say it again!”

    “If I say it again, you can always edit it out,” replied Liz tartly. “Where did you send her?”

    “She said she wanted to go and see her cousin Finly, in Australia.”

    Liz sighed. It wasn’t such a bad idea, but who would do the cleaning while Finnley was away? Then she had an idea.

    Godfrey, send me those French maids. I can’t remember their names, was it Mirabelle? Franola? No, that’s not right…”

    “But they’re in another thread Liz, it was you who said…”

    “No arguments!” Liz slammed the red pen down on the desk. “One needs cleaners!”

    And French pastries, thought Godfrey, warming to the idea.

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