#this was the packard :-( she's gone

[antigone-ks]

Lantern of Evil, Chapter Seven

MARVEL MASTERLIST

CHAPTER SIX

This chapter contains some sexual content

Chapter Seven: In September, When the Leaves Come Falling Down

I saw you standing with the wind and the rain in your face/ And you were thinking 'bout the wisdom of the leaves and their grace/ When the leaves come falling down/ In September, when the leaves come falling down

____________________

Now, they just cuddle up, and oh, boy! How you feel!

You sure can love ‘em when you’re not behind the wheel!

There’s a great attraction,

Lots of satisfaction,

Sittin’ in a rumble seat.[1]

Steve takes a deep breath and wills the song out of his head as he watches you slide into the seat of his car. From this angle, he’s got a killer view of your décolletage and a desperate urge to just find some quiet place to park like a couple of teenagers.

Do teenagers even do that anymore? he wonders as he circles the car to the driver’s side. They’ve got a lot more options than we ever did. Not that he’s ever been parking, but he’s heard stories. Probably not all true, now that he thinks about it, just boys bragging about stuff they wished they could do. Bucky had caught one of them out, once, boasting about getting up Millie Finch’s skirt in the backseat of a Packard.

“You don’t have a Packard, you chump, and Millie Finch was at the pictures with me last night.” And the guy – Steve can’t remember his name anymore – had gone off with his tail between his legs.

“You weren’t at the pictures last night, Buck,” Steve said when the other guys were out of earshot. “We listened to the game, and then Five Star Theater came on and we kept trying to draw on a Clark Gable mustache.” They’d been fifteen or sixteen, if Steve recalled correctly, and if young Bucky had more luck with facial hair than Steve, it wasn’t by much.

“Yeah, but he was lying anyway,” Bucky shrugged. “And even if he wasn’t, you can’t kiss and tell. At least not with names. If I found a girl sweet enough get in the backseat with me, I wouldn’t tell her name around for the fellas to laugh at.”

He had found a girl, Steve was pretty sure, not long after that. It might even have been Millie Finch, but true to his word, Bucky never said.

What Bucky had said had been enough to keep an impressionable young man up at night for a very long time after.

Steve checks the rear-view mirror as he buckles himself in. The backseat isn’t as big as an old Packard’s, but you’d both fit.

“That was fun,” you say.

Especially with him being little. Might be harder to squeeze back there when he’s six-two again.

“Grant?”

Of course, you could always be on top. Steve is slammed with the sudden, visceral image of your skirt raked up to your hips, the straps pulled down so he can fill his hands with your breasts, riding him to kingdom come.

“Grant?!”

He gasps as your fingers slide along his, and looks at you with eyes blown wide and dark.

“Can you breathe?”

“Yeah!” He can, when he remembers to. “I just.” Calm down, sport. She oughta have better than you pawing at her in a car. “I just wanted to tell you how beautiful you are.”

You squeeze his fingers and smile shyly. “You keep saying that, it’s gonna go to my head.”

Steve tucks a lock of hair behind your ears and whispers, “I hope so.”

***

It’s a short drive to your house, but long enough for your nerves to ratchet up to unbearable levels. Your hands are twisting in the fabric of your dress; it’s obvious enough that you’re worried Grant will notice, but he’s staring straight ahead, his own hands clenched on the steering wheel tight enough you think he might dent it.

You’re both quiet as the car sighs to a stop. Grant slides out of the driver’s seat and you have the wild impulse to dart toward the house without waiting for him, to escape whatever this is, to outrun the air between you, thick with possibilities.

You don’t.

You wait for him, for his hand reaching out to take yours so gently, for his eyes piercing yours with such intensity, like he’s reining in something dark and wild and dangerous. He grips you firmly as you climb the porch steps, his hand settling on your waist as you rummage for the key, stroking upward to the bare skin between your shoulders. You draw in a sharp breath as his hand reaches the back of your neck, firm and warm, and when you look at him he’s so close your nerves are on fire.

“Is this . . .?” His breath is hot against your skin. “Can I . . .?”

“Yes,” you murmur, and tremble as his lips brush your cheek. You have a moment to think, soft, and then his mouth is on yours.

It’s a slow, gentle, yearning thing, this kiss. It tastes like water in the desert, like months of longing fulfilled. His lips are plush and warm, patient as he coaxes you into him. When you open to him, when his tongue slides against yours, you both still for an instant, then he makes a noise low in his throat and takes your face in his hands. They’re calloused, the skin rougher than you’d realized, but his touch is so tender, so reverent.

This is it, you think, your mind gone indolent with pleasure, this is how it should be. All this time, it’s Grant I was waiting for.

Your hands slide under his jacket to feel his skin, hot beneath his shirt, and he breaks the kiss with a gasp as your fingernails scratch along his waist.

“Doll –” he says, but you brush your lips against his and he growls and he’s not as gentle this time but it’s so good; you can’t catch your breath but who needs air? He pulls you close and you know he wants you, you know it, you can feel it against you, and thank god for short men because if he moves against you just right it’ll be right there, right where you need it.

A light crosses over you, a car moving slowly down the street. You freeze, and Grant slumps back away from you. You fumble the door open hurriedly and pull him inside, into the living room that’s entirely too bright. You stand there, looking at each other with identical frantic expressions, your lips ruddy and swollen, twin patches of red on his cheeks.

“So,” you say at last. “Did you want to come in?”

He barks out a laugh, and if his eyes are less hungry, there’s no shortage of fondness in them.

“I have tea,” you offer. “Or wine, if . . . or there’s –“

Grant ducks his head, shoves his hair out of his face, looks up longingly. “Can I kiss you again? Will you let me?”

Let you? I’ll cry if you don’t.

He kisses you until your lungs burn, hands drifting slowly over every inch of exposed skin. You don’t realize you’re moving until the back of your legs bump into the sofa and you reel a little, only his grip keeping you upright. You can feel his laughter rumbling up from his chest and you pull away, mock-glaring.

“Are you trying to get me in a compromising position, sir?”

He beams at you, resting his forehead against yours. “Yes,” he says, pecking at your mouth.

“Yes,” he says, lips caressing your jaw.

“Yes,” he says, gripping your hair so he can trail kisses down your neck.

“Yes,” you say, turning and pushing him toward the sofa. He pulls you with him, and you fall together, just catching yourself on the edge of the seat, legs to the side, leaning over him. You raise yourself up, suddenly self-conscious, holding your weight off him. He doesn’t seem to notice; at this angle his face is even with your bosom and he looks . . . well, he looks like a man who’s just landed face-first in boobs, to be honest. Like this is the most thrilling thing that’s ever happened to him. He feels you shifting and wraps his arms around your waist.

“Don’t go,” he tells your chest.

“I’m not, I’m just trying not to crush you.” He does look up then, pulls your face down to his and kisses you sweet and slow. His hands move lower; you feel the fabric of your dress slide against your legs, just high enough to let you move.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs, and you take a shuddering breath and nod, and then his hands. His hands are on your skin, helping you shift your legs and straddle him. His hands, calloused and warm and gentle and hungry, rest inside your knees, and his mouth is devouring yours, and you sink against him and he arches, your shared gasp echoing in the space between you.

He’s toying with one strap of your dress, kissing along your shoulder, his other hand in your hair. He slides the strap down your arm, follows it with his mouth, then his breath dusts across the suddenly-revealing neckline of your dress.

You whimper, and he kisses the swell of your breast. “I could live here,” he murmurs. “Right here, right where it’s almost indecent. It’s perfect.”

He pulls your head down to his. “You’re perfect,” he whispers against your lips.

You’re floating, weightless and trembling in his arms, whispering, “I love you.” His eyes burn into yours, fiercely and ravenously, and he jerks the other strap down and mouths at your breasts through their lace coverings. You arch against him. “Grant, oh god, Grant –“

It’s like he’s been doused with icewater. His whole body jerks, and all the hunger drains from his face. His looks away, his eyes hooded.

“Grant?” Your voice comes out a little frantic, and you find the presence of mind to rein yourself in as he pulls back and scrubs his hands over his face. No, not now. What did I do wrong? What did I do?

You knew this would happen. You knew it. He doesn’t want you, not like that. You’re good enough to fool around with, but you’ll never be someone he could love.

“I have to – I can’t – this isn’t right,” he says, quietly, almost to himself.

You freeze, hands stiff where they fell from his body. You can’t even turn your head to look at him. When he shifts your hips to the side, you go, half-falling onto the sofa, legs tangled in your skirt. You feel emptied, hollowed-out.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

The hollowness fills with rage. “Well, that’s okay, I guess. I guess it’s okay. I guess it’s good that you didn’t fuck me, then tell me you don't feel anything for me. Glad you’re doing the right thing here.”

“Doll, no – that’s not what –“

“I asked you, Grant. I asked you what this was, and you said –“

“I know what I said, sweetheart. I meant it. I do have . . . I have so many feelings for you, but I can’t –“

“Quit lying to me, please.” The room goes quiet. Your chest hurts and you take a deep breath, trying to hold back your humiliated tears.

“Okay,” he says. His hand slides over yours and you jerk away. His face falls. “Right, okay.”

Grant takes a deep breath. “My name isn’t Grant Stevens. It’s Steven Grant Rogers. Steve Rogers.” You stare at him. “I’m Captain America,” he says, like he expects you to believe him. Like he believes it, himself.

“Oh my god.” You bury your face in your hands. “Is this a joke? I just asked you not to – Jesus Christ, Grant. Just say you don’t feel like that. It’s okay. I was stupid to think you would. Say you were just trying to get laid –“

“Hey, no, that’s not fair.” His voice is louder, almost commanding. “You know it’s not like that.” You should know, but the shame you feel won’t let you believe it.

“What is it like, Grant? How am I supposed to – You sit there and you tell me these ridiculous lies. Like, how could you possibly think that’s okay.”

He flinches like you’d hit him. “I’m not lying. I was just – no, I was lying to you, and I’m sorry, but I thought they’d fix me and I could tell you then, and then it was taking so long and I should have stayed away from you but I couldn’t, and then you said you noticed me and then you were wearing my jacket –“ his hands grasp yours, tighter now, so you can’t pull away. His voice is frantic “– and letting me draw you and, and no woman ever noticed me like this, not like this, not except – and I knew I had to tell you but. But.”

“What is wrong with you?” You can’t hold them back anymore, the tears are streaming down your face.

“I’m so sorry, I’ll prove it – “ 

“Please leave.”

“Sweetheart – “

“Don’t. Don’t you ever.”

He squeezes your hands so tightly that you wince, then drops them abruptly and stands. His breath is harsh, not-quite whistling, and for a wild second you hope it hurts, then –

“Your inhaler,” you say into the stillness.

“I’m fine.”

He turns away, wiping at his cheeks with the back of his hand, and walks out the door. You clutch your hands together, willing yourself to be quiet, at least until he’s out of earshot. You listen for the sound of his feet on the steps, his car door slamming, ears straining, but there’s nothing but silence for long minutes, then –

“Lock the door.” You start violently at the sound of his voice.

“Sweet – doll – you gotta lock the door. I can’t leave till I know it’s locked.”

Jesus fucking Christ, this man.

Numb, you cross the floor and turn the lock, then throw the deadbolt for good measure. It cracks like thunder in the stillness.

You hear him sigh. “Okay. I - I . . .” then you do hear his steps, his door, hear the engine start and the sound of tires on gravel. You slide down the door, dress raking up to your thighs the way it had only a few minutes before.

And then you let yourself cry.

[1] “Get ‘Em in a Rumble Seat,” Harry Reser’s Six Jumping Jacks, Vol. 2, 1928, http://www.heptune.com/lyrics/getemina.html. Accessed 31 July 2019.

____________________

Van Morrison – When the Leaves Come Falling Down

I saw you standing with the wind and the rain in your face/ And you were thinking 'bout the wisdom of the leaves and their grace/ When the leaves come falling down/ In September, when the leaves come falling down

Read Chapter Eight

[cookierunkingdomoffical]

A mysterious package

arrived at my door.

Inside was a game

I'd never heard of before.

It looked pretty dated,

but since it was free,

I booted up my ancient

Hewlett Packard PC.

I put in the disc...

It started to run...

Then braced myself

for educational fun!

Welcome to Baldi’s Basics

in education and learning!

All I need is seven notebooks

To break out of this game.

Trapped inside of Baldi's Basics,

And Baldi’s pretty unnerving…

I hear every door you open!

I dared not doubt his claim...

I found the next notebook,

on a desk before long.

“I get more angry

each time you answer wrong.”

The numbers were jumbled,

indiscernibly math…

I knew from the smacking

I’d incurred Baldi’s wrath!

Out in the hall,

I heard a loud crack...

Baldi was there,

and he was on the attack!

Can't escape from Baldi’s Basics!

I can’t get past It’s a Bully-

Gonna take a piece of your candy!

Now I'm as good as dead!

Let me out of Baldi’s Basics,

for love of all that is holy!

Should've lit this game on fire

and gone right back to bed!

I am coming! I see you!

What the fudge does this thing do?

It closed in fast and cornered me-

I’ll hug you for eternity!

A student named Play Time

appeared in my way.

She pulled our her jump rope

and said “Let’S play!”

I tried to escape,

but Baldi burst through the door...

...so I began skipping rope

as I had never before!

One…

Two…

Oops! You messed up!

One…

Two…

Oops! You messed up!

One…

Two…

Three…

Four…

Aw, that makes me sad…

It’s sweepin’ time!!!

I ran like the wind,

and heard the Principal call

as I dashed through the doorway,

“No running in the halls.”

His finger was pointed,

his expression quite stern.

“Detention for you,” he said.

“When will you learn…”

The timer ticked down…

The smacking drew near…

Two seconds more before Baldi’d be here-!

Out of time in Baldi’s Basics,

And Baldi’s one step behind me!

Only missing one more notebook,

But Sweeping Time appeared!…

No way out of Baldi’s Basics,

And Baldi’s certain to find me!

Can’t escape or use the soda,

And there ain’t no notebook here!

WHERE IS THE SEVENTH NOTEBOOK!?

This is cookie run

[suraht]

A tale of "company loyalty", and why I use scare quotes around the term.

I posted this to my Bluesky, so I figured I'd post it here, too. It is kind of long, so buckle in, and I'll give an example of why the idea of company loyalty only exists in fantasy...you owe the people employing you exactly as much as they owe you, and that exchange is made in hours worked for payment. Nothing more.

I used to work in a tape library/data center/whatever you want to call it At the time I worked there, it shifted ownership a few times, but the parent companies are irrelevant to the story, as everyone involved wasn't brought in by the parent companies, just the local management. I'll say that we were owned by EDS and Hewlett-Packard, but I'm pretty sure they didn't know our library existed.

Over the near decade spent with them, I did a lot to make sure everything stayed running(yes, this was stupid on my part, but I still had some belief that the company would watch out for me. Also stupid of me, I know).

Just some examples: -Worked a lot of hours in overtime for straight pay -Volunteered to cover a lot of callouts and vacations for what ended up being basically free -Ran an entire department solo for the last few years, not missing days because I was the only worker there.

-Helped to cover up more than a few Labor violations. -Didn't report the time the guy that worked in the other library pulled a knife on me, since the manager was concerned it might start an investigation.

So yeah. Those are the highlights. I was a good little drone. Guess what it got me?

My downfall(for lack of a better word) started when I tried to interview for another department in the same company. It turned out that my manager took this personally, and despite being the model, no complaints, never miss-a-day worker up until then, she saw it as a betrayal.

First, she managed to complain that if the other department interviewed and accepted me, she would be too short staffed, so the other manager told me I wasn't getting an interview. And then she decided to use me as a scapegoat for one of her upcoming projects to get sped along. Long story short there, she wanted to take about half of the staff that was manning the floor and turn them into a think tank of sorts, where they would do all the planning and such, and leave the rest of us(remember the bit about how we were too short staffed to allow me to interview) on the floor.

But, she was running into resistance actually getting the higher-ups to approve her little plan, so she needed to convince them that there was jealousy and fights were going to break out between the two groups if they didn't separate soon. Yes, the lists of who was on which list were known. The funny thing about the lists is that the people making up the think tank were all the true brown-nosers, the ones that went out of their way to bring her coffee and compliment her ideas. I was a model drone, but I still told her when she had bad ideas…I wasn't quite that far gone. And it turned out that one of the people on the think tank was still a temporary employee, while four or five people on the floor were 20+ year employees. I looked at the list, and I made what turned out to be a massive mistake. I talked about it while still at work.

One of the think tank was in the area, and I called it really strange that a temp was going to be planning things without even knowing how half the library worked, while several people that knew everything were being left out. The Think Tank groupie reported this conversation to the manager. Next thing I know, I'm getting sent strings of emails from everywhere about how I'm making the place a hostile environment, and there's some massively exaggerated tale about how I was yelling and screaming about being personally cheated by the temp and I made threats and yadda yadda yadda.

Keep in mind, all I'd actually said was that it was more than a little funny that a temp...a temp with two months experience in the area...was selected to be part of the planning group to make major decisions in how the area would move forward, incorporate new technology, plan staffing, etc. while several people that had two or more decades of experience in that library were left out.

At this point, the higher ups had actually noticed the shenanigans the manager was trying to pull, and called in a new manager to at least take over managing the people that would be left on the floor because even they could see the conflict of interest happening, and she seemed to have my back. At least for this one event. And I did get to keep the job. But, this didn't exactly endear me to the new manager, so I was never on her good list. So, fast forward another couple of years, and they've cut the library staff down to almost nothing. There are two of us to run each shift for both libraries(our shifts: 7 days every two weeks, 12 hours per day)

This is also not long after 2008, so recession was happening, and I see the writing on the wall that we're about to endure more cuts. So to beat the rush, I request in January to get to take some of my built up vacation in April. The manager lets the request sit in her inbox. After a month of not seeing the status update, I send her a short email asking about it. She tells me that it'll be fine, take the vacation when it comes, and she'll approve it when that pay period needs the time approved. I am dubious, I have a working brain, so I simply reply to her I'll check back in a few weeks and see if she has it approved yet.

March rolls around, I see the request is still sitting in limbo, and request a status update from the manager. The manager again tells me that it'll be fine, to enjoy my vacation, and she'll approve it when she needs to. The week before the vacation should start, we go through the same routine. The first day of my scheduled vacation, I check, and sure enough, it's still sitting at pending status, meaning it was neither confirmed nor denied. So I go into work and begin my 7 AM shift. I have a discussion with the other worker that something seems to be up when he asks why I was there.

I tell him when the manager shows up, I'm going to go do work behind the machine, and want him to act like he's there alone, and a little after 9 AM, I see the manager walk into her office, so I signal my coworker and go back behind a tape silo, and begin sorting materials we'd need later that day. A few minutes later, I hear the doors open, and hear the manager, in a sing-songy voice, ask my coworker where I am, because she doesn't see me. He says he doesn't know, and she begins to laugh, and I hear her say that it was a shame I chose to no call no show that day. Then I stepped out in view.

I clear my throat, and the smile she was wearing had dropped, replaced by the biggest scowl I'd ever seen. I looked over at my coworker, and tell him it'd been fun working with him, but it looked like my time there was up. Then, grumbling all the while, she lead me to a small room. She handed me my severance package, which was decent given that I'd been there for nine years, but it was pretty obvious that she really wanted me to no call no show so she could justify firing me. After nearly a decade of service where I had been a good, model drone.

So that was that. After that decade, I was just disposed of. No warning, an attempt to steal my severance, and my manager even made sure to ask security to try to barge into my car to rifle through it and see if I had any sensitive material in there, and tell me they'd mail me my stuff later.

So yeah. Company loyalty: It's only going one way, ever, and if you need a hint which way it goes, just remember that it's never in your favor.

[nucleariguana]

The Lyrics To Every Song In “Mandatory Fun”

My maid is cleaning the bathroom, so I can't take a shower When I do, the water starts getting cold after an hour I couldn't order off the breakfast menu, cause I slept in till two Then I filled up on bread, didn't leave any room for tiramisu Oh no, there's a pixel out in the corner of my laptop screen I don't have any bills in my wallet small enough for the vending machine Some idiot just called me up on the phone, what!? Don't they know how to text? OMG! I got

First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems

I bought too many groceries for my refrigerator Forgot my gardener's name, I'll have to ask him later Tried to fast forward commercials, can't, I'm watching live T.V I'm pretty sure the cookies in this airport lounge ain't gluten free My barista didn't even bother to make a design in the foam on the top of my vanilla latte

First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems

Can't remember which car I drove to the mall My Sonicare won't recharge, now I gotta brush my teeth like a neanderathal The thread count on these cotton sheets has got me itching My house is so big, I can't get WiFi in the kitchen Uh, I had to buy something I didn't even need just So I could qualify for free shipping on Amazon

First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems (First world problems)

First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems

I'm waking up, in Cheeto dust My belly's covered with pizza crust I'm using my inhaler now I'm out of shape, fattening up I'm sipping Coke from a Solo Cup Donut crumbs are upon my lips, whoa

The TV's on, I really hate this show I can't reach my remote control Welcome to my new place, to my new place Sorry it's a cramped space, but it's my place Whoa oh, whoa I'm, really inactive, I'm so inactive Whoa oh, whoa I'm, really inactive, highly inactive

My muscle's gone, I'm atrophied Always lose my fight with gravity I rest my bones, and just chillax, whoa My NordicTrack's collecting dust And my StairMaster's a pile of rust This is it, The Inertia, whoa

I can't get up, this couch is part of me I'm growing cobwebs on my knee Pretty sad for my age, sad for my age I could break my rib cage, here is my age Whoa oh, whoa I'm, really inactive, yes, quite inactive Whoa oh, whoa I'm, really inactive, not very active

Near comatose, no exercise Don't tag my toe, I'm still alive

I'm giving up, my energy is shot I'm never moving from this spot Never move from this place, move from this place I'll stay here in this place, right in this place Whoa oh, whoa I'm, really inactive, just so inactive Whoa oh, whoa I'm, really inactive, not so attractive

Tuesday morning, 8:15 I was riding to work on the Jackson Park Express Seemed like any other day Then my whole world changed In a way I never could have guessed 'Cause she walked in Took the seat right across the aisle I knew we had a special connection The second I saw her smile

She smiled as if to say "Hello, haven't seen you on this bus before" I gave her a look that said "Huh, life is funny, you never know what's in store By the way, your hair is beautiful I bet it smells like raisins"

She looked at me in a way that asked "Did you have a nose job or something? I'm only asking, cause your nose looks slightly better Than the rest of your face" I arched my eyebrow, ever so slightly Which was my way of asking "Do you want my old Hewlett-Packard printer? It still works, kinda And I got a bunch of ink cartridges left"

Then, she let out a long sigh Which, I took to mean, "Uh" "Mama, what is that deodorant you're wearing? It's intoxicating Why don't we drive out to the country sometime? And collect deer ticks in a zip-lock baggie", oh yeah

I gave her a penetrating stare Which could only mean "You are my answer, my answer to everything Which is why, I'll probably do very poorly On the written part of my driver's test"

Yes, it all happened On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express

I knew she was starting to fall for me 'Cause she crinkled her nose, which unmistakably meant "Baby, lets wear each other's clothes And speak in a thick German accent And, maybe someday we can own and operate Our own mobile pet-grooming service" I couldn't hold back my feelings I gave her a look, that said "I would make any sacrifice for your love Goat, chicken, whatever I could never hold you close enough Let's have our bodies surgically grafted together Oh, surgically grafted together"

She picked up a newspaper, and started reading to herself Which I'm sure, was a way of telling me "When you're cold, I will warm you When you're shivering, I will hold you When your nauseous, I will give you Pepto-Bismol every hour For as long as the symptoms persist" Oh, I, I never, ever want to see you cry So, please let me cauterize your tear ducts with an arc welder Then, I glanced down, at her shirt, for a second In a way that clearly implied "I like your boobs"

Yes, it all happened On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express

I cleared my throat quietly, and then, I looked away And I'm sure it was obvious to her, just what I was trying to say I was trying to say, "Hey I'd like to make a wall-sized mural out of all the dead skin cells That you slough off while you sleep at night" Whoa-o-Oh, "I'd like to rip you wide open And french-kiss every single one of your internal organs Oh, I'd like to remove all your skin, and wear your skin, over my own skin But not in a creepy way"

Then, I'm pretty sure, she looked at me, out of the corner of her good eye And, though, she never spoke a word, this is exactly what I heard She was saying, "Oh! I wanna make out with you, in an abandoned toll-booth, in the middle of a monsoon I wanna ride dolphins with you, in the moonlight Until the staff at Sea World kicks us out I want you inside me, oh, like a tapeworm"

I pointed to the side of my mouth, as a way of indicating "Hey, I think you got something on the side of your mouth" She licked the corner of her lips, as if to say "Here?", I nodded, implying, "Yeah, you got it"

And, then the bus stopped, at 53rd Street, and she got up suddenly "Where are you going?", pleaded my eyes, "Baby, don't you do this to me Think of the beautiful children we could have someday We could school them at home, raise them up the right way And protect them from the evils of the world Like Trigonometry and Prime Numbers, oh no Baby, please don't go"

She brushed my leg, as she left the bus I'm sure that was her way of saying "I'm sorry this just isn't working out You're suffocating me I need some space to find out what life's all about So, goodbye forever, my love"

And deep inside, I knew she was right It was time for us both to move on And no, I never got her number, oh no no She never bothered to leave her address, oh But, as long as I live, I'll never forget Those precious moments we shared together

On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express

We must all efficiently Operationalize our strategies Invest in world-class technology And leverage our core competencies In order to holistically administrate Exceptional synergy We'll set a brand trajectory Using management's philosophy Advance our market share vis-à-vis Our proven methodology With strong commitment to quality Effectively enhancing corporate synergy Transitioning our company By awareness of functionality Promoting viability Providing our supply chain with diversity (versity, ooooh) We will distill our identity Through client-centric solutions And synergy (Oooooh oooh oooh)

At the end of the day (At the end of the day) We must monetize our assets The fundamentals of change Can you visualize a value-added experience? That will grow the business infrastructure and Monetize our assets Monetize our assets Monetize our assets

Bringing to the table Our capitalized reputation Proactively overseeing Day-to-day operations Services and deliverables With cross-platform innovation Networking, soon will bring, seamless integration Robust and scalable, bleeding-edge and next-generation Best of breed We'll succeed In achieving globalization

And gaining traction with our resources in the marketplace It's mission-critical to stay incentivized Against this purple-poster-flexible-solutions for our customer base If you can't think outside the box You'll be downsized It's a paradigm shift! (Hey, Hey! Look out!) Well, it's a paradigm shift, now! (Here we go! Here we go! Here we come! Here we come! Ha!)

We clawed, we chained our hearts in vain We jumped never asking why We kissed, I fell under your spell A love no one could deny

Don't you ever say I just walked away I will always want you I can't live a life, running for my life I will always want you

I came in like a wrecking ball I never hit so hard in love All I wanted was to break your walls All you ever did was wreck me Yeah, you wreck me

All the other kids with the pumped up picture You better run, better run, outrun my gun All the other kids with the pumped up picture You better run, better run faster than my bullet

And we danced all night to the best song ever We knew every line, now I can't remember I think it went ooh eh ooh I think it went oohla eh ooh I think it goes eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh

Eh, sexy lady Po, po, po, po Polka Gangnam Style Eh, sexy lady Po, po, po, po Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh

Hey, I just met you And this is crazy But here's my number So call me, maybe And all the other boys Try to chase me But here's my number So call me, maybe

I wanna scream and shout (hey!) And let it all out And scream and shout (hey!) And let it out We sayin', "Ohh, wee ohh, wee oh wee oh" We sayin', "Ohh, wee ohh, wee oh wee oh wee ohh, wee oh wee oh"

Now you're just somebody that I used to know Now you're just somebody that I used to know

It's going down (hey!), I'm yelling timber You better move, you better dance Let's make a night you won't remember I'll be the one you won't forget (Timber! Timber!)

I'm sexy and I know it Girl look at that body (He's sexy and he knows it)

I wear your grandad's clothes I look incredible I'm in this big old coat From that thrift shop down the road (Hey!)

That's right! (He looks incredible) I do! (He's in that big old coat) It's large! Hey, lets go! (From that thrift shop down the road)

I'm gonna pop some tags Only got twenty dollars in my pocket I'm hunting, looking for a come-up This is super awesome

She's up all night 'til the sun I'm up all night to get some She's up all night for good fun I'm up all night to get lucky

We're up all night 'til the sun We're up all night to get some We're up all night for good fun We're up all night to get lucky

We're up all night to get lucky We're up all night to get lucky We're up all night to get lucky We're up all night to get lucky We're up all night to get lucky We're up all night to get lucky We're up all night to get lucky Up all night to get lucky

Yes, we're up all night to get Can get lucky, we're gonna get lucky, let's all get lucky We're up all night to get lucky! (Hey!)

I saw a baby drive a truck I saw a junkie eat a tuba I saw a stripper kiss a duck Behind a dumpster in Aruba

I saw this fat, psychotic guy His underwear was made of crickets He pawned a skeleton to buy Some old expired lotto tickets

I saw a naked vagrant giving Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to his cat I probably could have gone my whole life Without seeing that

With my own eyes I see things that'd drive a normal man insane Wish I could disconnect my brain From my own eyes

I saw a mime get hacked to death With an imaginary cleaver I saw an old man's final breath I watched him die from Bieber Fever I saw these diabetic chicks In an abandoned 7-Eleven I watched them snorting pixie sticks While they were belching Stairway To Heaven

I saw two drag queens trying to see how many crackers They could shove up each other's nose I'd like to erase my mind completely but I suppose That's just the way it goes

With my own eyes I see things that'd drive a normal man insane Wish I could disconnect my brain From my own eyes (my own eyes) Those visions haunt my memory Oh, there's so much I wish I could unsee With my own eyes

Some priest got drunk and stole a circus zebra And he trained it to massage his back My guinea pig committed hara-kiri So we used him to play hacky-sack My neighbor's kids sold weapons grade plutonium And frosty ice-cold lemonade They took MasterCard and sometimes Human organs in trade, that's how we paid I have to say that it was really darn good lemonade

With my own eyes I've seen thing that'd drive a normal man insane Wish I could disconnect my brain From my own eyes (my own eyes) Those visions haunt my memory Oh, there's so much I wish I could unsee With my own eyes With my own eyes With my own eyes With my own eyes

Everybody shut up, woo! Everyone listen up! Hey, hey, hey, uh Hey, hey, hey

If you can't write in the proper way If you don't know how to conjugate Maybe you flunked that class And maybe now you find That people mock you online

Okay, now here's the deal I'll try to educate ya Gonna familiarize You with the nomenclature You'll learn the definitions Of nouns and prepositions Literacy's your mission And that's why I think it's a

Good time To learn some grammar Now, did I stammer Work on that grammar You should know when It's "less" or it's "fewer" Like people who were Never raised in a sewer

I hate these word crimes Like I could care less That means you do care At least a little Don't be a moron You'd better slow down And use the right pronoun Show the world you're no clown Everybody wise up!

Say you got an "I", "T" Followed by apostrophe, "s" Now what does that mean? You would not use "it's" in this case As a possessive It's a contraction What's a contraction? Well, it's the shortening of a word, or a group of words By the omission of a sound or letter

Okay, now here's some notes Syntax you're always mangling No "x" in "espresso" Your participle's danglin' But I don't want your drama If you really wanna Leave out that Oxford comma Just keep in mind

That "be", "see", "are", "you" Are words, not letters Get it together Use your spellchecker You should never Write words using numbers Unless you're seven Or your name is Prince

I hate these word crimes You really need a Full time proofreader You dumb mouth-breather Well, you should hire Some cunning linguist To help you distinguish What is proper English

One thing I ask of you Time to learn your homophones is past due Learn to diagram a sentence too Always say "to whom" Don't ever say "to who" And listen up when I tell you this I hope you never use quotation marks for emphasis You finished second grade I hope you can tell If you're doing good or doing well About better figure out the difference Irony is not coincidence And I thought that you'd gotten it through your skull What's figurative and what's literal Oh but, just now, you said You literally couldn't get out of bed That really makes me want to literally Smack a crowbar upside your stupid head

I read your e-mail It's quite apparent Your grammar's errant You're incoherent Saw your blog post It's really fantastic That was sarcastic (Oh, psych!) 'Cause you write like a spastic

I hate these Word Crimes Your prose is dopey Think you should only Write in emoji Oh, you're a lost cause Go back to pre-school Get out of the gene pool Try your best to not drool

Never mind I give up Really now I give up Hey, hey, hey Hey, hey, hey Go away!

Your sports team is vastly inferior That simple fact is plainly obvious to see We're gonna kick your collective posterior Of course you realize we're speaking figuratively Our stats are thoroughly impressive Our coach really has the Midas touch Our players are fast and strong and brave And your guys, eh, not so much

In fact we've played teams across the nation And you're the worst one we've come across Try to assimilate that information And it just might help you cope with your impending loss Oh, and if somehow we are still failing To affectively articulate the points at hand Allow us now to summarize them in a manner That your feeble brains can understand

We're great (we're great) And you suck (you suck) We're great (we're great) And you suck (you suck) We're great (we're great) And you suck (you suck) You see there's us (we're great) And then there's you (you suck) We're really, really great (really great) In contrast, you really suck (really suck) Okay, full disclosure, we're not that great But nevertheless, you suck

Your sports team will soon suffer swift defeat That theory's backed up by empirical evidence We're gonna grind up your guys into burger meat Again, of course, we're speaking in the figurative sense What's the use of even going through the motions When you know that you're gonna lose anyhow So why don't you save us all some time And give up now (you suck!)

I never seem to finish all my food I always get a doggie bag from the waiter So I just keep what's still unchewed And I take it home, save it for later

But then I deal with fungal rot, bacterial formation Microbes, enzymes, mold and oxidation I don't care, I've got a secret trick up my sleeve

I never bother with baggies, glass jars, tupperware containers Plastic cling wrap, really a no-brainer I just like to keep all my flavours sealed in tight

With aluminum foil (Foil) Never settle for less That kind of wrap is just the best To keep your sandwich nice and fresh

Stick it in your cooler (Cooler) Eat it when you're ready Then maybe you'll choose (You'll choose, you'll choose, you'll choose) A refreshing herbal tea Mmm, lovely!

Oh, by the way, I've cracked the code I've figured out these shadow organizations And the Illuminati know That they're finally primed for world domination

And soon you've got black helicopters comin' cross the border Puppet masters for the New World Order Be aware: There's always someone that's watching you And still the government won't admit they faked the whole moon landing Thought control rays, psychotronic scanning Don't mind that, I'm protected cause I made this hat

From aluminum foil (Foil) Wear a hat that's foil lined In case an alien's inclined To probe your butt or read your mind

Looks a bit peculiar ('culiar) Seems a little crazy But someday I'll prove (I'll prove, I'll prove, I'll prove) There's a big conspiracy

One time I was in the checkout line Behind Steven Seagal Once I'm pretty sure Mr. Jonah Hill Was in the very next bathroom stall My best friend's brother Well, he was an extra in Wayne's World 2 My neighbour's baby sitter Dated three of the guys in Motley Crue I swear Jack Nicholson Looked right at me at a Laker's game

I got a lame Lame claim to fame

Check it out, I bought a second hand toaster From a guy who says he knows Brad Pitt I got me an email from the prince of Nigeria Well, he sure sounded legit My sister used to take piano lessons From the second cousin of Ralph Nader Last year I threw up in an elevator Next to Christian Slater Well guess what, my birthday and Kim Kardashian's Are exactly the same

I got a lame Lame claim to fame A really lame Lame claim to fame

Once at a party, my dentist accidentally Sneezed on Russell Crowe I posted first in the comments On a YouTube video I tried to sit by Steve Buscemi But he told me this seat's taken I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy Who know a guy who knows a guy who know Kevin Bacon

I had a car that used to belong To Cuba Gooding Jr.'s uncle A friend of mine in high school Had jury duty with Art Garfunkel One time I was staying in the same hotel As Zooey Deschanel I used the same napkin dispenser As Steve Carell at a Taco Bell Well I don't mean to brag but Paul Giamatti's plumber knows me by name

I got a lame Lame claim to fame A really lame Lame claim to fame I'm talking lame Lame claim to fame A really really really lame Lame claim to fame

Ow, let's get lame boys

First things first, I'm a craftsman (craftsman) Remodelling is my only passion (it's my passion) And I'm the greatest in the business Want referrals, yo My clientèle will bear you witness (right, right) I can help when your door jamb sticks (heh?) There is nothing in the world I can't fix (yeah) I do tiles, I do stone, I do bricks Call me, I'll come rushing over with my bag of tricks (bag of tricks) Where you go when your disposal is rusted (rusted) Termite problem making you disgusted (yuck) When your front window is busted (hey hey hey) Just one man that's always trusted

I'm so handy, you already know I'll fix your plumbing when your toilets over flows I'm so handy, I'll bring you up to code When your dishwasher's about to explode

Now you see that your furnace is needing some service I'm fully bonded, no need to be nervous Perhaps you would like a new counter Formica Maybe I'll hook up your dish washer combo dryer But all your pipes are antique Your water pressure's too weak You got an attic full of dry rot Because your roof sprung a leak Your fridge is starting to reek Your hardwood floors really squeak But don't you worry I'll just show you my amazing technique Now let me glue that, glue that and screw that, screw that Any random chore you got, well I can do that, do that Or maybe I'll just rewire your house for fun I got 99 problems but a switch ain't one

I'm so handy, everyone said so I'll grout your bathroom, resurface your patio I'm so handy, I'm the guy to know When your leaf blower doesn't blow-oh-oh-oh

Patch the drywall, clean your gutters and mow the lawn Make that phone call, I'll install anything you want Yeah, check my big staple gun, my socket wrenches are second to none I won't quit 'til I'm done, don't even care if I hammer my thumb (OW!)

Still rocking my screwdriver Got the whole world thinking I'm MacGuyver Your heating bills are shocking I can solve that with some duct tape and some caulking Your house is a disaster, huh? Need a guy whose a master with the plaster, huh? Let me be your stripper Taking off lacquer, no one does it quicker

I'm so handy, you already know I'll beat all price quotes, my hourly rates are low I'm so handy, you should call this pro I'm in the phone book and se habla Español It might seem crazy, wearing stripes and plaid I Instagram every meal I've had All my used liquor bottles are on display We can go to see a show but I'll make you pay

Wear my belt with suspenders and sandals with my socks (Because I'm tacky) Got some new glitter Uggs and lovely pink sequined Crocs (Because I'm tacky) Never let you forget some favor I did for you (Because I'm tacky) If you're okay with that, then, you might just be tacky, too

I meet some chick, ask her this and that Like 'Are you pregnant girl, or just really fat?' (what?) Well, now I'm dropping names almost constantly That's what Kanye West keeps telling me, here's why

Wear my Ed Hardy shirt with fluorescent orange pants (Because I'm tacky) Got my new resume it's printed in Comic Sans (Because I'm tacky) Think it's fun threatening waiters with a bad Yelp review (Because I'm tacky) If you think that's just fine, then, you're probably tacky, too

Bring me shame, can't nothing Bring me shame, I never know why Bring me shame, can't nothing Bring me shame, I said Bring me shame, can't nothing Bring me shame, it's pointless to try Bring me shame, can't nothing Bring me shame, I said

43 Bumper Stickers and a YOLO license plate (Because I'm tacky) Bring along my coupon book whenever I'm on a date (Because I'm tacky) Practice my twerking moves in line at the DMV (Because I'm tacky) Took the whole bowl of restaurant mints. Hey, it said they're free (Because I'm tacky) I get drunk at the bank And take off my shirt, at least (Because I'm tacky) I would live-tweet a funeral, take selfies with the deceased (Because I'm tacky) If I'm bit by a zombie, I'm probably not telling you (Because I'm tacky) If you don't think that's bad, guess what, then you're tacky, too

[hrodvitnon]

The First Gods Oneshot

You mentioned you would be interested in reading it, so I'm happy to announce that I've started to work on the informed!Monarch oneshot, under the tentative title of "The First Gods," in what I think I'll call the Symbiosis timeline. It's still rough and in its first draft stages, but here's a preliminary snippet:

---

Colonel Preston Packard sat down on the crate in front of William Randa, and pulled out a pistol.

  “You are going to tell me everything I don't know…”

  He aimed the pistol at the scientist, who had gone very still.

  “...or I'm gonna blow your head off.”

  Randa sighed.

  “Better to tell everyone at once. Let’s go down to your men?”

  The colonel’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but he nodded. Keeping Randa at gunpoint, Packard walked them both down the grassy slope towards the shore of the river, where the other survivors were waiting.

  “Everyone, on me! The scientist has got some explaining to do!”

  The survivors gathered into a rough semicircle around Randa and Packard. Randa turned, looking at the assembled group.

  “Monsters exist.”

  “No shit,” Packard deadpanned.

  “I work for an organization called Monarch. Monarch was founded with the original purpose of studying Massive Unidentified Terrestrial Organisms, MUTOs, but that mission changed when we found out why humanity was really here.”

  “What do you mean?” the colonel asked. Randa smiled, but there was no warmth in his expression.

  “Humanity’s not the masters of the planet. We never have been. The only reason our species isn’t extinct, the only reason we’ve been allowed to grow this much, is that the Queen of the Monsters thinks we’re cute, and convinced the King to get all of the other ones to avoid us if possible.”

  Packard snorted.

  “Oh, and she told you this herself, did she?”

  Randa slowly rolled up his left sleeve, revealing a thin sliver of something embedded in his arm, glowing blue. He tapped it twice, and the glow pulsed before dark vein-like spider web patterns began to ever-so-slowly grow from it under his skin.

  “Yes, Colonel. When we found an ancient temple in China and accidentally woke her up, she did in fact tell us. Ever since then, Monarch’s purpose changed: We’re the go-betweens. We’re the diplomats between humanity and the Titans, beings so far above us they might as well be gods.”

  Packard sneered incredulously, glancing around at his men.

  “You hear this shit?”

  Randa smiled sadly and sighed, drawing the colonel’s angry eyes back to him.

  “Why don’t we get the ‘proof’ bit out of the way, so I can talk without needing to try and convince you of every little thing I say. Go ahead, unload that whole gun at me.”

  Preston Packard’s face twisted, then six gunshots rang out, rapid-fire.

  And six deformed disks of metal dropped to the ground, the bullets flattened against a shield of shimmering blue-green light that twisted around Randa’s body. The soldiers’ eyes went wide with shock.

  “There are benefits to regularly interacting with Titans, Colonel. Believe me now?”

---

“The true purpose of this expedition was to determine why the two Titan rulers of this island had gone silent. We’ve been trying to get through the storm for years to find out, since none of the other Titans capable of ferrying us here would make the time to take us. They think of checkups in terms of decades and centuries, not weeks and years. And seeing who we ran into, I think I know why this place went silent.”

  “Oh?” Mason Weaver asked, still partly in shock from the crash earlier in the day. San Lin, James Conrad, Hank Marlow, and Houston Brooks were all sitting there on the riverbank as Randa brought them up to speed on what he’d previously told the military folk.

  “Yes. You see, that Kong that brought down our helicopters? That was a child.”

  Dead silence.

  Randa could see the moment the implications sank in for each and every one of his listeners. He could almost imagine the thoughts of those who hadn’t been in the know: ‘Oh God, they get BIGGER?’

  “Well, more a teenager, I suppose. But anyways, I’m fairly sure that Kong is the child of the two Titans we were looking for, and that he was orphaned before they could teach him about Monarch. The bombing’s a bit of a ritual, you see. While we were using it for a seismic survey this time as well, it’s usually to flush up a bunch of skullcrawlers for the Kongs to exterminate. Those damn lizards hide down there in the tunnels, and can get pretty nasty if their population’s not kept under control,” he continued.

  “Wait wait wait,” Mason Weaver interrupted. “Why did you keep these… these Titans a secret? Why? You’ve known about them for years! The people deserve to know!”

  Randa smiled sadly.

  “Miss Weaver, as a photojournalist you may not believe in the saying, but for the vast majority of humanity, ignorance is indeed bliss.”

  Predictably, she scoffed. Randa continued.

  “The existence of Titans, just the fact that they’re real, has been enough to drive people insane. We’ve been working on the issue — we’re publishing children’s books that encourage the idea that monsters and humans can coexist, we’re pushing the ideas of open-mindedness and tolerance further and further in every culture, and we’ve partnered with just about every government around the globe to set up secret emergency procedures just in case. But the world just isn’t ready yet. Maybe in a few decades, but not yet.”

  “‘Tolerance’ may be a bit difficult for the colonel,” Conrad cut in, keeping his voice low. “He’s determined to get revenge for his men.”

  Randa smiled, unworried.

  “I called for backup when I activated my shield. The Queen will have felt it, and will have sent someone to pick us up — Monarch has agreements regarding favors and emergencies. A few more hours, and whoever it is should be here. A day at the latest, if the only ones available are aquatic. If the colonel’s truly that stubborn, recommend setting a trap, it should delay him long enough.”

 ---

(Whether the shield is tech derived from studying the Titans with their permission, or something more spiritual that Mothra granted to Randa is left ambiguous for now. The story will quickly move away from Skull Island to the wider world, showing Monarch's new ideals through a series of snippets.)

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

---

OHOHO! I like what I'm seeing so far and looking forward to the rest once it's ready, thanks so much for sharing! Merry Christmas!

[mpearlie]

A mysterious package arrived at my door

Inside was a game I’ve never heard of before

It looked pretty dated, but since it was free

I booted up my ancient Hewlett Packard PC

I put in the disc...

It started to run...

Then braced myself for educational fun!

"Welcome to Baldi's Basics In Education and Learning!”

All I need is seven notebooks to break out of this game

Trapped inside of Baldi's Basics and Baldi’s pretty unnerving…

"I hear every door you open!"

I dared not doubt his claim...

I found the next notebook on a desk before long

"I GET MORE ANGRY EACH TIME YOU ANSWER WRONG"

The numbers were jumbled

Indiscernibly math…

I knew from the smacking

I'd incurred Baldi's wrath!

Out in the hall I heard a loud crack...

Baldi was there and he was on the attack!

Can't escape from Baldi’s Basics!

I can’t get past It’s a Bully-

"Gonna take a piece of your candy!"

Now I'm as good as dead!

Let me out of Baldi’s Basics for love of all that is holy!

Should've lit this game on fire and gone right back to bed!

"I AM COMING! I SEE YOU!"

What the fudge does this thing do?

It closed in fast and cornered me-

"I’LL HUG YOU FOR ETERNITY!"

A student named Play Time

Appeared in my way

She pulled our her jump rope

And said "LET’S PLAY!"

I tried to escape

But Baldi burst through the door...

...so I began skipping rope

As I had never before!

One…

Two…

Oops! You messed up!

One…

Two…

Oops! You messed up!

One…

Two…

Three…

Four…

Aw, that makes me sad…

"IT’S SWEEPIN TIME!!!"

I ran like the wind and heard the Principal call

As I dashed through the doorway

"No running in the halls."

His finger was pointed

His expression quite stern

"Detention for you," he said

"When will you learn…"

The timer ticked down…

The smacking drew near…

Two seconds more

Before Baldi’d be here-!

Out of time in Baldi’s Basics

And Baldi’s one step behind me!

Only missing one more notebook

But Sweeping Time appeared!…

No way out of Baldi’s Basics

And Baldi’s certain to find me!

Can’t escape or use the soda

And there ain’t no notebook here!

WHERE IS THE SEVENTH NOTEBOOK?!

[millingroundireland]

Nutley, Cincinnati, and beyond [Part 2]

After he returned from his military service, Bob went to Antioch College, taking up girls here and there, even having a train companion from California. [4] While at college he met F.L. and graduated in 1948 in the same class as her. One of the papers he wrote after finishing his military service was titled “The Negro Press: A Vital Democratic Heritage,” which focused on how the “Negro press has...played a leading role in the struggle of the Negro people for liberation...[with] many anti-imperialist attitudes which are missing from the general daily press.” He recounted the history of the Black press and remained optimistic. Before moving to Cincinnati, Bob and F.L. would live in New York City. While there, F.L. and Bob would have two Siamese cats named Darwina and Quetzalcoatl. Sadly, they escaped down the fire escape one day and went into a fur factory, never to be seen again. In 1958, Bob would graduate from Columbia University with a Ph.D. in clinical psychology. [5]

In order to tell more of the story, it is worth summarizing F.L.’s background. She was born on August 17, 1926 at 19 Lexington Avenue in Montclair, New Jersey, a town close to Nutley. Her parents were an insurance broker named Walter Augustus Schaefer (called Walter Sr. to distinguish from his son of the same name), and Katherine Ruth Weber (often just called Ruth), who lived on Calico Lane in the town of Nutley from 1926 until 1970 (when Ruth died), when Walter, Sr. moved nearby in 1971. [6]

The Schaefers have a story worth summarizing here. In 1920, they were living on 19 Lexington Avenue, with Walter Sr., Ruth, and two children: Walter Jr. (age 4) and Martha (age 1), living in a house they owned but mortgaged, with Walter Sr. working in casualty insurance. [7] By 1930, this had changed. They were living on 385 Passaic Avenue, with a Polish maid named Mary Watraz, while Walter Sr. was an insurance broker. This home was worth $25,000 and they had a radio. By 1940, they were living on 1 Memorial Park Drive, with the maid gone, but Walter Sr. as an insurance agent, Walter Jr. in advertising and Martha in advertising publicity. [8] While the street numbers change it is the same house. I base this on Walter Schaefer’s This is Your Life which reprints old newspaper articles he wrote as “Nutley History Bits”. He notes that they bought the James Mason house in 1926 from Alexander Hamilton Schultz, noting that the street was originally called River Road, then Passaic Avenue, changed to Memorial Park Drive, and was finally called Calico Lane.

Circa 1900. This seems to be a very old photo of the house in Nutley that was later purchased by Walter A. Schaefer and Ruth Weber.

Continued in part 3

This is reprinted from my family history of the Mills/Packard family. This tells a shortened version of the Bob Mills story in World War II sent out to relatives on June 17, 2018. Some other changes have been made to make a smoother text. This was originally published on the WordPress version of this blog in November 2018, but has been broken apart info various parts for this blog.

© 2018-2023 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.

Notes

[4] In the meantime, his father, Bert, was part of the civil defense system in Cheviot. According to his picture book, these girls included Nina Fey, June Brenner (on Painesville, Ohio), Jenny Khol (of Bridgetown), Nan Fey, Robbie Philadelphia, Clara Wood, Sarah Pete (New Bedford, PA), Jean Cowan (Monterey), Jane, Jean Fugate, and Pat.

[5] “Robert Mills dies, service set Friday,” The Cincinnati Enquirer, May 8, 1981, page not known.

[6] Oranges Directory (Newark, NJ: Price & Lee Co., 1912), 542; Oranges Directory (Newark, NJ: Price & Lee Co., 1914), 593; Oranges Directory (Newark, NJ: Price & Lee Co., 1916), 617; Montclair-Bloomfield Directory (Newark, NJ: Price & Lee Co., 1920), 587; Montclair-Bloomfield Directory (Newark, NJ: Price & Lee Co., 1923), 816; Montclair-Bloomfield Directory (Newark, NJ: Price & Lee Co., 1926), 839; Nutley Directory (Newark, NJ: Price & Lee Co., 1936), 635; Nutley Directory (Newark, NJ: Price & Lee Co., 1940), 746. All directories are courtesy of Ancestry.com; Nutley Directory (Newark, NJ: Price & Lee Co., 1940), 96; Nutley Directory (Newark, NJ: Price & Lee Co., 1942), 756; Nutley Directory (Newark, NJ: Price & Lee Co., 1944), 839; Nutley Directory (Newark, NJ: Price & Lee Co., 1946), 806; Nutley Directory (Newark, NJ: Price & Lee Co., 1948), 955; Township of Nutley, “History of Nutley,” 2017; Certified copy of Florence Louise Schaefer’s birth certificate, Aug. 17, 1926, Board of Health, Bloomington, NJ. Walter A. was living in Orange, New Jersey 1912-1916, Montclair 1920 to 1926, then Nutley.

[7] 1920 U.S. Federal Census, Bloomfield Ward 1, Essex, New Jersey, National Archives, NARA T626, Enumeration District 13, Roll 1344, Page 4B. Ancestry says the middle name is K, but is A when you look closely at the census document; 1930 U.S. Federal Census, Nutley, Essex, New Jersey, National Archives, NARA T626, Enumeration District 558, Roll 1344, Page 4B.

[8] 1940 U.S. Federal Census, Nutley, Essex, New Jersey, National Archives, NARA T627, Enumeration District 7-294, Roll 2338, Page 14A. In This is Your Life, See the articles titled “The Naming of Calico Lane,” “Schaefer Family ‘Finds The James Mason Home,” “End of Trumpet Vine Signalled End of Birds,” “Curls, Saddle Rugs and Mother’s Ideas,” “Finding the Doorway to the J. MasonHome,” “Friendly Visitors, Memories, Memories” in Oct. 13, 1987 and Nutley Journal/Belleville Post, “Nutley’s Schaefer still going strong at 100.” At the time they purchased the Calico Lane house it was in poor condition so they rehabilitated the house. That was a major part of both Walter and Ruth’s lives, but especially Ruth’s.

[packedwithpackards]

Cyrus Packard, Sarah Barrows, and the Underground Railroad waystation

In July 2021, I noted in a footnote of one of my articles, about my slave-trading ancestor, Captain Samuel Packard, that Cyrus "Cy" Packard (1796-1860) and Sarah Barrows (1803-1903), two Packards in Topeka, Kansas, sheltered “runaway slaves”. Before then, I mentioned it in passing in an article in May 2019, citing page 1290 of The Underground Railroad: An Encyclopedia of People, Places, and Operations which says this about the activities of Cyrus and Sarah:

Cyrus, my third cousin six times removed, [1] was the son of Icabod (1760-1814), captain and Revolutionary War veteran, and Rachel Cole (1768-1825). The latter was the daughter of a farmer named Ephraim Cole and Hannah Randall Pratt. Rachel received 26 pounds, thirteen shillings, and four pence at the time of Ephraim's death in September 1775. [2] In contrast, Icabod was the son of Reuben John Packard (1737-1820), another Revolutionary War veteran, and Anne D. Perkins (1737-1806).

This differed from Sarah Barrows, a woman who Cyrus married in January 1825. She was the daughter of William Barrows, a Deacon who established Hebron Academy in Hebron, Maine, and Catherine Pratt Macumber. Catherine had previously been married to man named Seth Macomber, with her maiden name as Pratt. [3] The story above is confirmed by various documents. The 1850 census shows Sarah, Cyrus, and their seven children (Sarah C., Charlotte A.H., Rachel C., Olive Augusta, Georgianna, Samuel F.) in Piscataquis, Maine, where Cyrus is a farmer, while Charlotte is a seamstress, and two farmers are in the same household (William Brown and Randall Chase). By 1860, Sarah and Cyrus would be living in Soldier, Shawnee, Kansas Territory, along with their daughter Catherine, son Samuel, daughter Olive, and three other individuals (William E. Bouker, William Owen, and Martha Owen). [4]

This also provides further evidence of the fact that Olive married William Owen, as they are living together in the same household. The 1900 census indicates that they married in 1859, as do other records. [5] More significant is an article in the Topeka Daily State Journal on June 5, 1907, an obituary of William, which tells the story of the role William and Olive had in the Underground Railroad and much more.

Another Kansas pioneer has. gone across the divide. William Owen came to Kansas In 1856, He made his home near the town of Indianola, Shawnee county. In 1858 he married Olive A. Packard. The house that he built on the Topeka and Holton road, near Rochester school house was one of the first houses built in that community, and is still occupied as a residence. It was a station of the "Underground railway," and John Brown made frequent trips along this road with his runaway slaves…Mr. Owen never sought office, and took little interest .in the game of politics--except as a means to an end…Mr. Owen was a close observer of men and things. He kept in touch with all reform movements. He joined the Greenback party and later the Socialistic wing of the People's party.

The aforementioned book, The Underground Railroad: An Encyclopedia of People, Places, and Operations, cites L.L. Kleine's article "The Battle of the Spurs and John Brown's Exit from Kansas" for its information about how the home of Cyrus and Sarah was a waystation on the Underground Railroad, and the house of Olive and William was a safehouse. The latter is described in detail on one page, noting that William put is life on the line and was jailed for his views:

William E. Connolly's 1918 book, A Standard History of Kansas and Kansans is cited as a source

Kleine goes into details about a trip across the Underground Railroad in January 1859, stating that a "stop was made at the home of Cyrus Packard, four miles north of Topeka, where the negroes were unloaded and the refugees and their escort ate lunch". After failing to find the information in the first volume, the second volume, or the third volume, I found a whole passage about William in the fourth volume, on pages 1764 and 1765, noting some fascinating details, which says a lot about their involvement in the abolitionist movement and Underground Railroad:

Much of the pioneer history of Kansas might be written around the names Owen and Packard. The late William Owen was one of the men who came from the East in the days of the '50s for the purpose of assisting in the movement to make a free state out of Kansas. His father- in-law, Cyrus Packard, was also a prominent leader in the free state movement. Born in Rhode Island in 1827, William Owen came to Shawnee County, Kansas, in 1856, about the time the first territorial government was organized. As a young man in Rhode Island he learned and fol- lowed the trade of carpenter, and for a time was in the same vocation in Kansas. Later he conducted a sawmill, his being one of the first mills in the territory. He also was a merchant and kept a store at Rochester. After the war he was a farmer and carpenter, but in 1880 concentrated all his efforts upon farming and continued in that work for eighteen years, when he retired from business and moved to Topeka. Mrs. William Owen before her marriage was Olive Packard, and the Packard and Owen families lived close neighbors after coming to Kansas.

Her father, Cyrus Packard, who was born in the State of Maine June 5, 1796, served as a soldier in the War of 1812. He was a man of deep religious convictions, an active supporter of the Congregational Church and carried his religious beliefs and his social principles into practical action on every occasion. At the time of the abolition movement in Maine Cyrus Packard and one other man were the only ones in their community who had the courage to speak and advocate the cause openly. Cyrus Packard was nearly sixty years of age when the Kansas Nebraska bill was passed and precipitated the conflict for a free state in Kansas. It was his ardent belief in abolition that caused him to abandon his comfortable home and come out to help make Kansas free. William Owen was likewise zealously identified with the free state movement.

At one time he was captured by the slave faction in Kansas and was taken to Lecompton and put in prison. A few days later the governor of the territory arrived at Lecompton, dined with the prisoner, and in a few days secured his release. Mrs. William Owen herself has many interesting anecdotes to relate concerning early days in Kansas. She recalls the fact that John Brown stopped one night at the Owen house with sixteen negroes, and Brown was not an infrequent visitor at the Owen or Packard homes. In fact everyone associated with the old underground railroad knew the Owen and Packard families. General W. T. Sherman when a young man managing the Thomas Ewing ranch boarded with the Owen family and the general with Mr. Owen 's assistance built what was known for many years as the Sherman cabin. Mr. and Mrs. Owen had fourteen children, six sons and eight daughters. Ten of these children are still living.

There's more than this. Cyrus was apparently described as "one of the first anti-slavery men" by one of his daughters, Olive. The house she lived in with William, and which Cyrus and Sarah seemingly also lived in, built in 1857, was partially burned in 2009 and sadly demolished in 2015. The words of Olive were quoted in Joanna Stratton's Pioneer Women. Otherwise, the memoir of Georgianna, one of Olive's sisters, notes that in 1858, a "family of colored people" lived in the house, while Olive's memoirs are mentioned various times as a primary source. [6] As it turns out, the memoirs are within the Kansas Historical Society's Lilla Day Monroe Collection of Pioneer Stories but have have not been, yet, posted online. However, a genealogical article written by Robert Stone in the June 1947 edition of Bulletin of The Shawnee County Historical Society, notes that the home of Cyrus and Sarah was a "hiding place for John Brown and his underground railway". It also describes her as a remarkable woman who was the unquestioned head of the family, had six daughters who became teachers, and was "always interested in political and literary affairs." Perhaps due to a frontier spirit, she was interested in her roots, and was proud of being a DAR member, even though the DAR itself was inherently racist and is historically white, only admitting its first Black member (Karen Batchelor Farmer) in 1977 and added a Black woman (Wilhelmina Rhodes Kelly) to its board in 2019.

The National Underground Railroad Network of Freedom gives more detail, noting that the first station north of Topeka was cabin of William Owen and Sarah, "one of a few extant sites to have hosted John Brown and those he led northward". Otherwise, there is an account by genealogist Lillian Stone Johnson which reprints letters from Cyrus. In one letter to Sarah and Hannah in 1856, Cyrus says he would like to go to Kansas and notes the importance in moulding a future society, while a letter from Georgianna the same year to her siblings says they are knitting a pair of stockings for Kansas. In others, Cyrus continues his planning to go to Kansas. The same account says this:

…Cyrus Packard and William Owen ran an underground railway station at their place…on the corner across from the present Rochester School. Here John Brown often came with negroes. They were kept in the wagon overnight and Sarah Barrows Packard, Cyrus' wife and Olive Packard Owen fed them breakfast and sent them on.

Other genealogists have noted that Cyrus and Sarah Packard, in-laws of William Jordan, a committed abolitionist, "were deeply involved in Underground Railroad activities, as was his brother-in-law, William Owen." John Brown, at the time, was soliciting funds and arms to support fighting in the Kansas territory. One book seems to bring all these stories together: My Common, Remarkable Family: Civil War to the Twenty First Century. It is edited by Tony Allen. Kristen Kimberly Eppsfurther wrote about the story on page 213 of her 2010 Masters Thesis, "Bound Together: Masters and Slaves on the Kansas-Missouri Border, 1825-1865":

One later reminiscence described the fugitives’ frame of mind during the ordeal. Cyrus Packard’s daughter Olive Owen, who witnessed her father’s abolitionist work, recalled that “they were quite a jolly set.” This was even the case after they had slept outside in wagons hidden behind some thick brush near the Packard home (at Kansapolis, now known as Rochester). [7]

Others said that the home of Cyrus was within a community sympathetic with rescue of enslaved peoples. These Packards are not the only ones who were either anti-slavery, abolitionist, or both. Others include William Packard (1791-1870), one of the earliest supporters of abolition in Cummington, Massachusetts, Theophilus Packard (1769-1855) was a vice president of the Massachusetts Antislavery Society, while the house of Bowdoin College professor Alpheus Spring Packard is now known as the Russwurm African American Center and may have been a waypoint for enslaved peoples as part of the Underground Railroad. Additionally, the Ramsdell House in Mason Road, Egypt, New York was said to be an Underground Railroad station, along with food and other markers in the forest to help those fleeing slavery. Gideon Ramsdell, who owned the house lived in the same town as Philander Packard who had married Minerva Lapham, with Lucy Lapham, who was born in Cummington, as the mother of Gideon. [8] I hope to find more antislavery ancestors in the future, and if I do, I'll be sure to write about them here.

Notes

[1] However, FamilySearch says he is my first cousin seven times removed, which is another way of saying the same thing, I think.

[2] Will of Ephraim Cole, 1775, Massachusetts, U.S., Wills and Probate Records, 1635-1991, Plymouth, Probates, Vol 24, 1775-1777, pages 75-77, images 71 and 72 of reel as shown on Ancestry.com.

[3] Maine, U.S., Marriage Records, 1713-1922 for Sarah Barrows, Oxford, 1825, P, Maine State Archives; Cultural Building, 84 State House Station, Augusta, ME 04333-0084; Pre 1892 Delayed Returns; Roll Number: 82, image 1; Miss Katharine Pratt in the Massachusetts, U.S., Town and Vital Records, 1620-1988, Town and City Clerks of Massachusetts. Massachusetts Vital and Town Records. Provo, UT: Holbrook Research Institute (Jay and Delene Holbrook), image 855, original page 383; Sarah Barrows in the Maine, U.S., Birth Records, 1715-1922, Maine State Archives; Cultural Building, 84 State House Station, Augusta, ME 04333-0084; Pre 1892 Delayed Returns; Roll Number: 6, image 3 of 15.

[4] 1850 United States Federal Census for Sarah Packard, Maine, Piscataquis, Monson, Year: 1850; Census Place: Monson, Piscataquis, Maine; Roll: 267; Page: 220a-220b; 1860 United States Federal Census for Sarah Packard, Kansas Territory, Shawnee, Soldier, Year: 1860; Census Place: Soldier, Shawnee, Kansas Territory; Roll: M653_352; Page: 725-726; Family History Library Film: 803352.

[5] 1900 United States Federal Census for Olive A Owen, Kansas, Shawnee, Topeka Ward 01, District 0145, Year: 1900; Census Place: Topeka Ward 1, Shawnee, Kansas; Roll: 500; Page: 3; Enumeration District: 0145; FHL microfilm: 1240500, United States of America, Bureau of the Census. Twelfth Census of the United States, 1900. Washington, D.C.: National Archives and Records Administration, 1900. T623, 1854 rolls.

[6] Megan Hart, "Daughters of 1812 honor veteran, abolitionist," The Topeka Capital Journal, Apr. 6, 2013; "Kansas Frontierswomen Viewed Through Their Writing: The Memoir of Georgianna Packard," ed. Glenda Reilly, Kansas History, Winter 1986, p. 186; Mike Hall, "Burned house harbored slaves," The Topeka Capital Journal, Oct. 19, 2009; Tim Hrenchir, "Owen House, a Civil War-era home north of Topeka likely used on Underground Railroad, demolished," The Topeka Capital Journal, Oct. 7, 2015; Chapter IV, History Of Shawnee County, Kansas, 1905.

[7] She cites Olive Owen, “Some Remembrances of the Underground Railroad,” 1908, in Shawnee County History Collection, Library and Archives Division, KSHS.

[8] Sela Kay, "Russwurm Center: a missing link in the Underground Railroad?", The Bowdwin Orient, Dec. 6, 2019; "Four Cummington Abolitionists," Cummington Historical Commission, accessed September 26, 2022; Bertha Bortle Beal Aldridge, Laphams in America: Thirteen thousand descendants including descendants of John from Devonshire, England, to Providence, R.I., 1673, Thomas from Kent, England, to Scituate, Mass., 1634 and Genealogical Notes of other Lapham Families (Victor, New York: 1932-1933), 104, 171, 440-441. For another Cyrus see the biography of Cyrus A. Packard, who lived in Maine.

Note: This was originally posted on Mar. 6, 2023 on the main Packed with Packards WordPress blog (it can also be found on the Wayback Machine here). My research is still ongoing, so some conclusions in this piece may change in the future.

© 2023 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.

[epicmusic42]

Anakin as Cookie feels weird and I want to object for some reason. But it's absolutely accurate. He has very similar vibes to Cookie.

One of Obi-wan’s Canon crechemates (Prie) was very into animals and iirc it was Mole who thought they knew stuff about the animals encountered along the way to Atlantis. So Prie might make for a good Mole.

I'm gonna suggest Dorme as Packard. She's basically on vacation. Is she technically working? Yes. But she also wouldn't know what to do with a real vacation and she's not allowed to work anything with the embassy since she's "still in recovery." Seeing as she's already as recovered as she's gonna get, she's tagging along on Anakin's latest adventure for babysitting/boredom purposes.

Kix is Sweet and very carefully not saying anything about the fact that he IS atlantean until they find Atlantis. He doesn't even know how the kriff he ended up on the surface or else he'd have turned right around and gone home. He is mildly terrified that they won't find anyone and that what let him make it to the surface was also saving his life.

His collapsing into Keeli's arms is as much relief at finally seeing his twin again as it is that he's not the last atlantean.

...I kinda wanna suggest that Quinlan is Vinny. Not because they actually have anything in common (they really don't). But because the idea of Quinlan desperately trying to maintain that facade for some reason while everyone around him gets to be chaos is amusing. Maybe he's actually undercover for some reason? But that definitely throws off the script.

...

With Satine being Kida, I think we can address the racism of the whole name scene. Instead of sharing her name when Obi-wan asks, she rattles off her full name and titles. At speed.

Obi-wan does manage to catch enough to guess that he probably didn't get a name. Or, well, not just a name. So he tells her that was a bit fast for him to catch and asks if that's how he should address her or if that was her formal address. She laughs and tells him to call her Satine.

For the 5 headcanon ask meme: Atlantis the lost empire? With Obi-Wan as the linguist and any of his long list of love interest as Kida

send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons about it

This meme is from over a year ago. I am not taking new prompts.

I don't remember much about this movie, I think I last saw it in theaters when I was like... five or six. It was one of the first movies I ever saw in an actual cinema, to my memory. But I'll do my best!

I think that, to play with the idea of the cross-cultural elements and isolated community... well, my first instinct would be "Atlantis is the Jedi," but that's not going to work if Obi-Wan is Milo. 'Dark with facial markings' would suggest Quinlan, but I think the dynamic doesn't work. So while the visuals don't fit... Atlantis=Mandalore, and Satine is Kida. (I'm always on board with racebending Satine, so I'm fine with tweaking her to fit the AU.)

I think this means that, despite Anakin being the most mechanics-focused, Ahsoka should be our Audrey. Small and young and fighty and good with engines.

Anakin is... I don't know what Anakin is doing. Causing problems, probably, but in the fun way. I think I want him to be a navigator, but he'd probably do great as a demolitions expert. That said, the ship could probably use more than one engineer? I don't remember.

I think there's a moral imperative here for Ventress to be Helga.

Also for all that the clones should be Atlantean, I think it's like... mandatory for Kix to be the chief medic for the ship.

I don't remember enough of the plot to expound 😅 I think I should poke... @penpalpixie maybe?

[monstrousgourmandizingcats]

It’s Disorganized Rachel Berenson Thoughts Hours again.

I think an underdiscussed part of the tragedy of Rachel is that in 33 she is trying to take the lessons of 32, that she can’t cut off her tender side entirely, to heart. The problem is that by this point she is, and the other Animorphs for that matter also are, far enough gone that “taking those lessons to heart” involves willfully deluding herself about her boyfriend and about her life in general, and by the end of the book she seems to have completely reversed course and resumed her long-term drift Mean Rachel-ward after realizing that softhearted, compassionate Rachel really isn’t what the others want, or for that matter even what Tobias needs necessarily. Four books later she’s gone full Madeline Miller and is deliberately self-mythologizing using words that she, a Packard Foundation Outstanding Student, cribbed from her ninth-grade vocab quiz after a unit on Greek tragedy.

[peterlorres21stcentury]

Postwar prosperity

I have two characters who have been with me for quite a long time now, Leo Becker (a Peter Lorre inspired role) and Tanya (née Rosenthal) Becker. They used to exist in a completely different (and not very well-written) reality until I rebooted them to a new story, set in 1940s USA. I wrote their wartime romance arc already, and I have a number of scenes in mind intended for a time close to the end of war, or afterwards in peacetime. I'm just collecting them here for future reference because some are kind of funny:

Leo, not the most responsible with money, decides it's time to buy his first car after seeing his friend's multiple Cadillacs. He never actually learned to drive. Neither did Tanya. This does not stop him. He later pulls up in a shiny new Packard, flipping open the passenger door with a grin. "Get in, Tanya, we're going to Beltsville*!" He pulls her into the car and speeds away like a maniac while Tanya gives him this look: 😳

Leo and Tanya have gone to the beach for a swim. However Leo is not the best swimmer and has resorted to clinging to Tanya in deeper water, using kissing as the excuse. They smooch for a while, until he happens to look up just in time to see a large wave looming above. She dives into the wave and escapes--Leo does not. He ends up washing closer ashore in a confused heap while Tanya laughs.

Probably that same day at the beach, Leo tolerates being slowly buried in sand by his twin boys and dog Puff. He shrugs. “I'm being buried alive,” he says calmly when Tanya questions what is happening.

Back home on another day, Leo relaxes in a hammock in his yard. He’s napping lightly in the warm midday sun, Puff sleeping on top of his stomach, when some neighbor kids sneak over the fence to nab some low-hanging fruit from the apple trees. Leo wakes up and smiles to himself. He holds the little dog back by the collar and pretends not to notice while watching from the corner of one eye. Then, at the last minute, he lets Puff go, who goes tearing across the yard barking. “Hey you!” Leo growls, doing his best to sound cranky and intimidating. “What are you doing in my yard?” The kids scatter (“oh no, it’s old man Becker!”) as Leo has a good laugh. He honestly doesn't care about the apples because "kids and little wild animals have to eat too."

*Beltsville is a historic semi-rural suburb of Washington, DC where the story takes place. The couple has friends there. Leo's line is just intrinsically funny to me because there is absolutely nothing in Beltsville that would merit this kind of excitement. :P

[winchesterbrotherstan]

Kong Skull Island- Childhood Homes and Childhood Traumas

Pairing: Reg Slivko x Irene Brown (OC), James Conrad x sister!OC

Summary: James and Irene are home, but they continue to relive the trauma of their lives.

Warnings: cursing, crying, nothing else i'm pretty sure

Word Count: 2358

“You feeling alright, Ire?” James asked as we stepped out of the airport, back in England.

I shook my head. “I miss them already.” I looked up at him.

He sighed and wrapped an arm around me, letting me bury my head into his shoulder. He sighed and flagged down a cab.

“Where are we going?”

“Home.” He held the cab door open for me.

I sighed as I slid in. He helped the driver with our bags before slipping in next to me. When our parents died, they had left the house to us. James had his own apartment, which is where I lived while he was gone, fighting in the war.

“Which one, Jay?” I asked after he leaned back, having given the driver a destination.

“Back to the house.”

I huffed. “Why there?”

“Because, Irene. We need to sort things out.”

“Sort what out? We went…” I lowered my voice and leaned in. “We went, we almost died, we made it out, we got paid. End of story.” I settled back. “What is there to sort out?”

He sighed and turned to look at me. “You’re eighteen. You’re not gonna live in England with me forever.”

“James…”

“Unless that was the plan, in which case, I am entirely delighted.”

I sighed, looking out the window with my chin in my hand. It was raining, as it always did in London.

“You and Slivko are in love with each other, anybody could see it. I don’t think you want to stay 4,000 miles away from him.”

Of course, I wanted to go live with Reg more than anything. I wanted to be close to Jack, close to his family, and I wanted to be able to see Stephen if things went well. But James wasn’t going to leave England. This place was, and always would be, his home.

I didn't seem to have the same luxury.

TEN DAYS LATER

“Do you think your mom would be sad if we sold this painting?” I called down the wooden stairwell, holding the large canvas in my hands.

“Which one?” James called back, probably from the kitchen.

“The one of my dad and I.” I trotted down the steps, showing him the painting.

He cringed. It was one that his mother had commissioned after Stephen was sent off to boarding school. My father and I were dressed in a military outfit and hunting gear, respectively. I had my crossbow in my hands, and my father had a rifle slung over his shoulder. I never quite understood why she had wanted it.

“No, I don’t think Mum would mind if she knew the truth about him.”

I chuffed. “Thank god, I cannot stand seeing this thing outside my bedroom door.”

James chuckled from the other side of the kitchen island and slid a mug of tea my way. I set the painting down on the ground, leaning against the counter.

“Mint tea, two sugars, just how you like it.”

I smiled at him. “Thanks, Jay.”

Since we had gotten home from the island, I had been having non stop nightmares. It felt like a terribly edited montage. One night, it would be the crash, the next I would dream that our first encounter with a Skull Crawler ended with Jack dead. Then it all melded together. Cole, the tooth through my arm, watching people get eaten. The one I had the night before was new, and I was shocked that it took so long for my brain to conjure it up.

Reg, dying, in my arms, at the hands of Packard.

It was, by far, the worst one yet. James had woken up to my stifled sobs. I wanted to call Reg, but we were five hours ahead of them, and he needed the rest, probably more than I did.

“Ire?” James called, waving his hand in front of my face.

“Sorry.” I shook my head, coming back to reality.

“You okay?”

I nodded. “Thinking about my nightmares.”

“We should get you a therapist.”

I snorted. “What’re they gonna say? Oh, you seem to be experiencing trauma. As if that’s anything new.” I shuddered, eyeing the painting.

James sighed, sitting down on one of the stools. He pulled out another one, further from the painting, and patted on it. “Come sit, Ire.”

I shuffled over and settled into the stool, blowing air onto my tea.

“So… I talked to Chapman, who talked to Cole’s wife. Stephen is still living with them. She said that he still talks about you. She suggested that we head out extra early.”

“Why?” I sipped my tea.

“So that you two can see each other, before the funeral.”

“Fuck, is that a good idea?” I felt my eyes bug out of my head.

“He misses you.” James gave me a sad look.

“God.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I… is he okay?”

James shrugged. “I didn’t ask much, I don’t think Chapman did either. We just all think that you two should see each other before the funeral. It might make it easier for him.” He sighed. “Less of a shock, less to process all at once.”

“Does he know?”

“Know what, Ire?”

“Does he know that our dad is dead?”

James paused.

“Does he? Because he adored that man, Jay. I don’t wanna have to be the bad guy who tells him his dad’s dead. Okay?”

James nodded. “I’m not sure if he knows. But it’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out. Okay? I promise.”

I scoffed, pushing the rest of my tea away.

“Irene-”

“I’m gonna go toss this painting into the sell pile, and then I’m gonna go shower.”

“Irene…” He reached for my hand.

“Jay, I…” I pulled my hand out of his reach and shook my head. “I’m tired, okay? I’m tired of the shocking news, and I’m tired of thinking about people who are dead. I’m tired of this already, and Stephen and I haven’t even seen each other.” I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “Honestly, the only thing I want right now is to lay in bed with Reg and read a book.”

James sighed, holding his arm out for a hug. I trudged to his side and rested my chin on his shoulder. I began to cry the second my skin hit the fabric of his shirt. He wrapped his arms around me and rubbed my back as I sobbed.

“I feel so terrible and I don’t even know why, Jay. We survived, I should be happy.”

“You’re traumatized, Irene. A lot happened on that island. And now, knowing that Stephen is alive, it’s bringing up trauma you sustained during your childhood.”

I sniffed. “This sucks.”

“I know, Bitsy.” He cooed. “We’ll find you good help. I promise you we will. But I really do believe that seeing Stephen before Cole’s funeral would help a bit.”

I sighed in his hold, wiping my tears. “When are we leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

I nodded. “Okay. I’ll finish packing my things.”

“Still gonna go shower?”

I nodded, wrapping my arms around his neck and returning the long hug. “Yeah.”

“I’ll take care of the painting. I don’t want you to worry about it, okay?”

I nodded. “Okay. Thank you, Jay.”

He kissed the side of my head, and my bottom lip quivered once more.

“Of course.”

*******************************************************************

I stepped out of the shower and shook my hair out. I tugged the plastic cover off my cast and tossed it into the sink. I no long had to wear the sling, but I still had a cast for a little bit. My first instinct was to wonder if I would be able to use my crossbow. Then I remembered that I was no longer on a deadly island, no longer with a father who thought hunting humans was a game, and no longer on my own in London.

I finished drying off and got dressed, throwing on the shirt I had worn when we had all gone our separate ways. It was Reg’s, he had given it to me before we had gotten off the ship. Most nights, I slept hugging his army jacket. It still smelled like him, even though James had made me put it through the wash. In hindsight, I probably did not want my bed smelling like the island.

The phone on my nightstand rang, and I grabbed the hairbrush from my bathroom counter before sitting on my bed.

“Hello?” I put the phone up to my ear and began to brush my hair out.

“Hey, doll.”

I couldn’t help the giggle that rose from my chest. “Hi, love.”

“How’re you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” I rushed to finish brushing my hair. “I keep having nightmares.”

I heard him sigh on the other end. “They won’t end anytime soon, doll.”

“I know.” I tossed the hairbrush onto the counter and rolled onto my stomach, kicking my legs up.

“I’m sorry, doll.”

I shook my head, even though I knew he couldn’t see me. “It’s okay, love. James said we would find a therapist, so…” I sighed, trailing off.

“That’s good, right?”

I huffed. “I think so. I’m not sure. I’ve been through so much at this point… I dunno if a therapist could be much help.”

“I’m sure it couldn’t hurt, doll.”

“Yeah, that’s a good point. What about you, how’re you doing? How’s your leg?”

“I can walk without crutches now.” I could hear his grin.

I giggled. “That’s good. I’m happy for you, love.”

There was a beat of silence, and then he sighed.

“What’s wrong, Reg?”

“I just really miss you is all.”

My heart clenched in my chest, and tears began to form in my eyes. “I miss you too.”

“You remember, how, at the airport, I said I was gonna ask you to marry me?”

I giggled, butterflies floating in my stomach. “Yeah, I do.”

“If I were to ask you… for real… would you say yes?”

“God, Reg, without a doubt. Yes, of course I would.”

He chuckled. “Still no kids?”

“No, that’s a non-negotiable.” I shook my head. “No kids, ever.”

“Never?” He repeated incredulously.

“Never. I don’t know how to be a parent.”

“Why not?” He whined playfully.

I took a breath. “Never had a good example.”

“I’m guessing that’s the reason two four year olds ended up living in the amazon with tattoos on their arms?”

I chuckled. “Yeah. My mom, she died when we were little. Less than two years old. I don’t remember her, I’m not sure if Stephen does.”

“I’m sorry, doll.”

I shook my head. “It’s okay. I don’t mind talking about it. About her.” I sighed. “My dad used to say that… the only good thing that came out of her dying was that he could travel the world with us.”

“That’s a fucked up thing to say to a kid.” Reg practically growled, and I could sense his anger through the phone.

I scoffed. “Yeah, especially when she’s only five years old and all she wants is her mom.”

“Your dad sounds like a horrible person.”

I laughed.

“Sorry, that was kinda harsh.”

“No, it’s the truth. My dad’s the reason I know how to use my crossbow. He um…” I trailed off. “Actually, no. This is kinda heavy, I shouldn’t-”

“Irene. If you’re comfortable telling, I’m comfortable listening. I’m here for you okay? No matter what.”

I grabbed his jacket from the hook next to the bed and held it to my chest, curling up tightly.

“He used to… um… when we were six, he gave us weapons as gifts. My crossbow, it used to be his. He gave Stephen… a katana that he… took from a Japanese soldier that he killed.”

I heard him mumble a curse on the other end, and I fell back into the bed, wishing he was here to hold me.

“He would set us loose in the woods, and hunt us down.” I shook my head. “He used to say that he was just trying to keep us safe. Keep us prepared. We were ten years old, I… I still don’t get it. I don’t get what he thought he was trying to protect us from. He was so messed up. I don’t know. Maybe it was the war. I just know that my parents shouldn’t have had us.”

“Don’t say that, doll.”

“Cole adopted Stephen.” I blurted out, feeling tears stream down my face.

“What?”

“My dad sent him to a boarding school. Both of us, together, we were too much to handle. So James started taking care of me, and my dad sent Stephen away. We tried to find him when my dad died, but… it was like he disappeared.”

“Cole didn’t talk about his family much. But I know that all of his kids are adopted.”

“Exactly. Stephen’s one of them. That’s what Cole told me, before…” I looked at the crumpled polaroid that was pinned to my bedroom wall. “He gave me the picture, and he said that he had a son named Stephen. That he was adopted. And that I reminded him… of Stephen.”

“Does that mean…”

“He’s gonna be at Cole’s funeral.”

“Shit.” I heard him hiss.

I looked at the time. It was 2pm here, which meant it was 9am there.

“Do you have to go?”

“I’m so sorry, doll, I-”

“It’s okay. I know you’ve got stuff to do today. We’ll see each other in a few days anyways.”

“I love you. So much.”

I smiled softly. “I love you too, Reg. Thanks for listening to me.”

He gave a soft chuckle. “Thanks for trusting me, doll.”

“Reg, let’s go!” I could hear his older brother, Kenny, on the other end.

“Go, before he takes your car and leaves you stranded.” I giggled. “I love you. Be safe.”

“Always, doll. Kenny, fuck off.” He lowered his tone for that as he hissed. “Okay, doll, I’ll see you soon. Love you.”

I hung up the phone and sighed, turning to lay on my side. These next four days could not drag on any longer.

Previous: Airport Kisses

Next: Waffles

[quietplace26]

Atlantis au (3)

Hannya, despite being rather... strange, took care of everything.

Money. Clothes. Random supplies. He took care of it all.

Akito slings his new travel bag over his shoulder and sees Mari doing the same.

They had just finished packing everything they needed or wanted to bring, throwing in the stuff Hannya got for them as well.

With everything set, both Akito and Mari heads for the door, ready for the adventure of the lifetime!

Akito just hopes he was making the right choice trusting Hannya...

Arriving at the docks, Hannya throws his arms around Akito's and Mari's shoulders, making both siblings feel really uncomfortable, and showed them what they would be riding to Atlantis.

A submarine. A GIGANTIC submarine!

Akito figured they were going to use one, as Atlantis sunk unde the sea, but the sheer size of the vessel was throwing him off!

Hannya then steers the siblings over to a small group of people.

First introduced his family.

Hannya's wife, Hitomi (She's Helga), smiles and nods toward the siblings. Her smile reminded Akito of her husband's. It wasn't a nice smile...

Next was Erika, Hannya's and Hitomi's daughter, who was a budding engineer. (She's Audrey)

Akito couldn't help but noticed how Erika seemed to flinch away from her parent's attention, leaning into the scary woman beside her.

Why was she acting scared of her own parents?!

To Akito's growing disturbance, Hannya continued on with introductions like nothing was wrong!

After Erika was Rinko, the scay woman she was hiding behind. Rinko works as one of the best radio operators on the ship. (She's Packard)

After Rinko came Ed, a quiet glasses wearing foreigner, who was shockingly Hannya's demolition expert. (He's Vinny).

And last was Dale, another foreigner, who was not only very big and had tattoos, but he seemed to be a very happy guy! He was one of Hannya's best doctors. (He's Sweet)

With introductions finished, Hannya finally lets go of Akito and Mari, and heads off to do something with his wife.

Seeing how the creepy couple was gone, Mari opens her mouth and says something rather rude about Hannya and Hitomi.

Akito hisses her name, giving her a stern look, but truthfully agreeing with her in his head.

Before he could scold Mari more, a giggle stops him.

It was Erika. She was smiling at Mari, obiviously finding what she said to be funny.

In fact, everyone seemed to find Mari's comment funny, so Akito relented from scolding his sister for her comment.

Akito jumps when a loud siren was heard. It was time to go!

Scrambling for his things, Akito and Mari follows the crowd of people heading on board.

A burly tattooed arm is thrown over his shoulders. It was Dale.

The bear of a man was smiling brightly as he asked Akito if he wanted to bunk with him and Ed.

At first Akito was going to say no, as he didn't want to be seperated from his sister in such a large place.

But as it turns out, he didn't need to worry as Mari tells him she'll be bunking with Erika and Rinko.

Apparently Erika had asked her to and Mari didn't have the heart to say no.

With his worries settled, Akito lets himself be dragged off by a cheerful Dale who was now excitedly talking his ear off. Ed followed behind them quietly, every now and then throwing a comment of his own in.

Akito could already tell that this was going to be an interesting trip...

[teatimeatwinterpalace]

I have two questions about Louis IV of Hesse I hope you might have answers to... 1. Did he have a close friendship to Fritz of Prussia? Despite politics? 2. Was he really as... well, stupid as many tend to believe about him? Or so called ”handsome, but not very intelligent”.

Hey! First I just want to say that we have few materials in English on Louis, Fritz (& Alice tbh) but here is my two cents.

Concerning Louis and Fritz, I would say they did have a close friendship. They fought on opposite sides during the Austro-Prussian war but that didn't seem to have dampened their friendship. Tbh every relationship has its ups and downs. Fritz didn't approve the marriage between Louis of Battenberg and his niece Victoria. But overall I think they remained close. Louis was in the adjacent room when Fritz had his tracheotomy in January 1888. And when Fritz died, Louis stood by Vicky's side. In one of his letters to his sister-in-law he wrote: 'When I can do anything to propagate Fritz's views I will do so'. After Louis' death in 1892, Vicky wrote to her mother: 'only Louis to whom I could talk, & who understood & who could share many of my feelings & fears'.

& look at these dorks...

Regarding his “lack of intelligence", I think this belief comes from a letter written by Alice in October 1876 :  

'I longed for a real companion, for apart from that life had nothing to offer me in Darmstadt. I could have been quite happy and contented living in a cottage, if I had been able to share my intellectual interests, and intellectual aspirations with a husband whose strong, protective love would have guided me around the rocks... So naturally I am bitterly disappointed with myself when I look back, and see that in spite of great ambitions, goo intentions, and real effort, my hopes have nevertheless been completely shipwrecked...' ouch, however she continues saying: 'I love you too so very much, my darling husband, that is why it is so sad to feel that our life is nevertheless so incomplete - and sometimes so difficult.'

Scholars then assumed that the clever Alice was trapped in an unfulfilled marriage with a dim husband (Jerrold M. Packard is particularly hard on Louis). I think it is reductive.

Let's add some context: the Franco-Prussian deeply marked Alice, she had gone through a spiritual crisis. In 1873, their youngest son, Frittie, died when he fell from an open window in Alice's bedroom. I can't even fathom the guilt and anguish that Alice must have felt. They both responded differently to grief, Alice wrote to Louis: 'The wound... is not yet healed... I sometimes need to talk about it... But I don't do it with you - I know it hurts you.'

I see a woman with great depths who had gone through many trials and who had been married for fourteen years. Fourteen years... Marriage brings its fair share of challenges. When she wrote this letter, she clearly felt discontent and melancholic. She yearned for a sort of intimate intellectual companionship that perhaps Louis was unable to give her. However, it would be wrong to say that because of this, Louis was as dry as dust. And the fact that she was even able to share these thoughts and feelings with Louis says a lot about him.

+++ the last quote of Vicky above, shows that she held him in high esteem. Coming from Vicky, it means a lot. She was clever as hell and she despised medriocrity. She wrote this after his death so there is a kind of pathos in her words. But Louis was very much aware of what was happening in Berlin with Bismarck and his clique!

[the-ever-humming-girl]

Atlantis: General Mayhem

     It was supposed to be an uneventful weekend. A quiet gathering of the expedition’s core crew members before their scheduled departure. Though it was shaping up to be anything but. The last time the crew had been at Whitmore manor was just before the Iceland expedition and things hadn’t gone exactly to plan. This time around there were a few new rules in place that would hopefully keep history from repeating itself.

    Though Helga Sinclair had her doubts that a list of rules could keep certain people in line she had dutifully corralled them in the library of Whitmore manor after they’d arrived. She didn’t want to give them the chance to disperse to their rooms or she’d end up having to track them all down.

    The seven of them were currently seated around the room, waiting in confusion for her to explain exactly why she had them there.

    Sweet settled into his wingback chair and frowned. “I thought Mr. Whitmore was going to be talking to us?”

    Packard, seated on the end of the couch, tapped cigarette ash into the silver tray on the table at her elbow. “And shouldn’t commander Rourke be here as well?”

    Helga sighed and wondered if this wasn’t above her considerable pay grade.

    “I was asked to have a word with you all upon your arrival.” She explained.

    The staff remembered well what had happened three years earlier and other than contributing to the list Helga now held in her hand they had declined to take part any further. She couldn’t blame them. She’d been a by stander to the chaos before and would have preferred to avoid what she had a feeling was coming this time as well.

    She clasped her hands behind her back and continued. “Given how this group’s last visit turned out Mr. Whitmore has implemented a few rules and asked that I pass them along.”

    There was a loud snap of bubblegum from where Audrey sat, and she crossed her arms defensively. “Hey, leave me out of this. I’ve never been here before.”

    Milo frowned and nodded in agreement. “Same. This is my first visit.”

    Helga nodded. “Audrey and Milo, you’re excused. This list, although short is aimed mostly at Vinny, Cookie, and Moliere.”

    She gave the three of them a hard stare.

    Vinny raised his hands in a peaceful gesture. “Hey, what’d I do?”

    From his seat by the fireplace Cookie spoke up. “Yeah, blondie, what’d we do?”

    Moliere, who had been inching toward a potted fig tree, stopped to look indignant. “I have done nothing wrong. This is an outrage!”

    Outraged was his favorite thing to be it seemed. Tell him who his bunkmate would be? Outrage. Inform him Cookie would not be adding crepes to the expedition’s menu? Outrage. Remind him of his crimes against the local flora? Outrage.

    Audrey leaned back in her chair and looked at Vinny. “What did you do?”

    Milo leaned forward and looked at Cookie and Moliere. “Yeah, I’m curious about that too.”

    Helga sighed as she felt the conversation begin to evolve beyond her control. Sweet gave her a sympathetic look and started to speak but was interrupted by Cookie.

    “If I recollect correctly, blondie, you were part of the group’s last visit.” He placed heavy emphasis on the last two words.

    Helga sighed. “Firstly, Cookie, I have a name. Secondly, while I was part of the group’s last visit, I played no part in the antics, as you know full well.”

    Packard ground out her cigarette and immediately lit up another. “Can we go now?” She asked, sounding bored, as always.

    Helga resisted the urge to massage her temples. She could feel a tension headache coming on and she rolled her shoulders a few times to loosen the tense muscles. Then she cleared her throat for attention.

    Silence fell.

    “The sooner we get through this, the sooner you can get to your rooms.” She told them, unfolding the list she held.

     “Cookie, Mrs. Seagraves has asked that you kindly stay out of her kitchen. She has enough staff to worry about as it is and would like to avoid any future altercations.”

    In response, Cookie made a dismissive noise and crossed his arms. “The dang woman can’t take criticism. She doesn’t know how to use lard properly.”

    It was on the tip of Helga’s tongue to ask how the hell you could misuse lard but realized that would be contributing to the derailment of the conversation.

    “Just stay a out of the kitchen.” She told him firmly and moved on before he had a chance to protest further.

    “Vinny, Jameson has asked that I inform you the wine cellar is out of bounds. Also, the testing of any explosives on the grounds is strictly prohibited.”

    While the first rule was from the butler the second had come from her. Really, the man was a bodyguard’s worst nightmare.

    Vinny shrugged. “Okay, I was just making sure he had the right pairings. And what about cherry bombs?”

     She stared him down. “The dinner menus are meticulously planned. There’s no need to worry. And no cherry bombs.”

    He chewed the end of a match thoughtfully. “They’re so small you’d hardly notice...”

    The man was exasperating.

    “Not even a Black Cat.” She informed him.

    He shrugged again but didn’t argue. Thank heavens for small miracles.

    She moved down the list.

    “Moliere, I have personal pleas from the gardeners, Mr. Maltby and Mr. Burbage, not to allow you within one hundred and fifty feet of the conservatory. I am also to tell you that digging holes in the lawn is not allowed.”

    Why they thought she had any control over Gaetan Moliere was beyond her. And out of the three, she’d put money on Moliere as being the first to disregard the rules. He was already poking around in the plant he’d been stood by. He turned to look at her.

    “No digging? This is an outrage”

    What a surprise.

    “You’ll live.” Helga told him unfeelingly. She wanted to wrap things up now that the list was done. “That’s it, then.” She told them. “You’re all free to go.”

    Audrey raised her hand.

    “Yes?”

    “What about the garage, is that off limits?”

    Milo raised his hand eagerly. “And the library, are we free to stay in here if we want?”

    It looked as though she wouldn’t be getting out of there so easily.

    “Library and garage are open, as you are both are experts in your fields of work.”

    She’d liked Manuel and Thaddeus and felt confident they’d passed their wealth of skills and knowledge to their successors.

    “I’ve never worked with either of you, but I have worked with your father and grandfather, and I trusted them. I will now pass that trust on to you.” She pointed at them both. “Don’t disappoint me.”

    Helga paused and added an afterthought.

    “Audrey, no dismantling the cars, if you please. The garage is my domain and I’d like to keep everything intact.”

    Audrey squinted at her critically, looking her up and down.

    “Something the matter?” Helga asked, wondering what she was looking at.

     Audrey tilted her head to one side. “I’m having trouble imaging you under a car.”

     Helga smiled. People usually did. Bodyguard and chauffer they could believe, with a little effort, grease money took a little more. “Well, you’ll find I’m full of surprises. One does not drive an expensive car without knowing how it works.”

    Audrey nodded approvingly.

    Next to her, Milo had sat and listened in amazement the entire time as Helga read through the list and answered each question fired at her without hesitation.

    “Is she usually like this?” He asked Audrey in a stunned whisper. She hadn’t been all that talkative when she’d met him at his apartment.

    Audrey shrugged. “Beats me, it’s my papi that worked with her before. He got along with her okay as far as I know, though he did say she was a stickler for rules.”

    Behind them, Sweet leaned forward with a chuckle. “She’s not usually this would up, but she’s in lecture mode right now. She can’t help it. She’s an army brat and she’s got five younger brothers.”

    Milo and Audrey turned to Helga in unison.

    “Five younger brothers?” They exclaimed.

    Helga sighed. She needed a drink.

[esperwatchesfilms]

Clue (1985)

This is one of my all-time favorite films. I have no clue why. It might be the nostalgia factor. But I’m absolutely obsessed with it. I’ve seen it a million times, but I have never looked into the interesting trivia on its IMDB page, so this will be fun!

Awesome Fun Fact:

The color of each character's car is the same color as their playing piece in the game, and is introduced as follows: Colonel Mustard drives a yellow 1954 Cadillac Series 62, Mrs. White drives a black-and-white 1950 MG TD convertible, Mrs. Peacock drives a blue 1952 Packard 200 Deluxe club sedan, Mr. Green drives a green 1951 Plymouth Cranbrook, Ms. Scarlet drives a 1946 red Lincoln Continental, and Professor Plum drives a purple 1949 Pontiac Streamliner Station Wagon.

Prof. Plum: It’s frightened.

Something I Already Knew But Maybe You Didn’t: When Wadsworth cuts the power to the house during his solving of the mystery, it represents the point of divergence of the three endings.

Amusing Fun Fact: Professor Plum indicates at dinner that he works for the World Health Organization, part of the United Nations Organization. This means he works for UNO WHO.

Wadsworth: Professor Plum -- you were once a professor of psychiatry specializing in helping paranoid and homicidal lunatics suffering from delusions of grandeur. Prof. Plum: Yes, but now I work for the United Nations. Wadsworth: So your work has not changed. But you don’t practice medicine at the U.N. His license to practice has been lifted; correct? Miss Scarlet: Why? What did he do? Wadsworth: You know what doctors aren’t allowed to do with their lady patients? Miss Scarlet: Yeah? Wadsworth: Well, he did. Miss Scarlet: Ha!

Mrs. White: [after Mrs. Peacock swears that the reason she's being blackmailed is a vicious lie] Well, I am willing to believe you. I, too, am being blackmailed for something I didn't do. Mr. Green: Me too. Colonel Mustard: And me. Miss Scarlet: Not me. Wadsworth: [surprised] You're *not* being blackmailed? Miss Scarlet: Oh, I’m being blackmailed all right, but I did what I’m being blackmailed for.

Miss Scarlet: Well, to be perfectly frank, I run a specialized hotel and a telephone service which provides gentlemen with the company of a young lady, for a short while. Professor Plum: Oh yeah? [pulls out pen and a pad of paper] Professor Plum: What's the phone number?

Wadsworth: The double negative has turned to proof positive. I’m afraid you gave yourself away. Colonel Mustard: Are you trying to make me look stupid in front of the other guests? Wadsworth: You don’t need any help from me, sir. Colonel Mustard: That’s right!

Wadsworth: Mrs. White, you've been paying our friend, the blackmailer, ever since your husband died under, shall we say, mysterious circumstances? Miss Scarlet: Ah! [laughs] Mrs. White: Why is that funny? Miss Scarlet: I see! That's why he was lying on his back, in his coffin. Mrs. White: I didn't kill him. Colonel Mustard: Then why are you paying the blackmailer? Mrs. White: I don’t want a scandal, do I? We had had a very humiliating public confrontation. He was deranged. He was -- [points to head] Mrs. White: -- a lunatic! He didn't actually seem to like me very much.

Miss Scarlet: Why would he wanna kill you in public? Wadsworth: I think she meant he threatened, in public, to kill her. Miss Scarlet: Oh. Was that his final word on the matter? Mrs. White: Being killed is pretty final, wouldn't you say? Wadsworth: And yet, he was the one who died, not you, Mrs. White, not you! Miss Scarlet: What did he do for a living? Mrs. White: He was a scientist, nuclear physics. Miss Scarlet: What was he like? Mrs. White: He was always a rather stupidly optimistic man. I mean, I'm afraid it came as a great shock to him when he died, but he was found dead at home.

Mrs. White: I had been out all evening at the movies.

Wadsworth: But, he was your second husband. Your first husband also disappeared. Mrs. White: Well, that was his job. He was an illusionist. Wadsworth: But he never reappeared! Mrs. White: [chuckling, admittedly] He wasn't a very good illusionist.

Prof. Plum: Maybe he was poisoned!

Wadsworth: He decided to put his information to good use and make a little money out of it. What could be more American than that?

Col. Mustard: You lure men to their deaths like a spider with flies! Mrs. White: Flies are where men are most vulnerable.

Mrs. Peacock: No, I just want to powder my nose. Thank you.

Wadsworth: Sorry!

Wadsworth: The key is gone! Professor Plum: Never mind about the key, unlock the door! [smacks Mr. Green on the shoulder] Mr. Green: [grabs Professor Plum by the collar, throttling him] I CAN'T UNLOCK THE DOOR WITHOUT THE KEY! [releasing Plum, Mr. Green rattles doorknob] Mr. Green: LET US IN! LET US IN! Colonel Mustard, Miss Scarlet: [on other side of locked door] LET US OUT! LET US OUT!

Mrs. Peacock: Our lives are in danger, ya beatnik!

Communism is Just a Red Herring Fact: The line "Communism is just a red herring" is said in all three endings (twice by Wadsworth and once by Miss Scarlet). Not only is it is a pun (particularly after World War II, the Russian Communists were frequently called "reds", for example, the anti-Communist slogan, "Better dead than red."), but it cleverly refers to a MacGuffin (or a real "red herring") implemented by the screenwriters, because none of the murderers motives end up having anything to do with creating political conspiracy. There are various visual red herrings on-screen, such as a hammer and sickle on the shelf beside the torch Colonel Mustard finds, and a bust of Lenin in the attic.

ESE: 125/100

50 +10 for Tim Curry +4 for the dogs +2 for the dog poo shoe +5 for Mr. Green’s obedience (”Sit! No, not you, sir.”) +1 for Mrs. Peacock’s glasses +5 for amazing one-liners +5 for the discussion about why Mrs. White’s being blackmailed -10 for homophobia -5 for The Three Stooges antics when Mr. Boddy’s secret is revealed +5 for not shouting +5 for confusion +5 for most hilarious pairings +10 for secret passages +3 for the ironing board +10 for singing telegram +10 for Wadsworth walking through the whole thing +6 for 3 different endings -10 because the timing makes no sense for Mrs. White to have killed Yvette +10 for Mr. Green going home to sleep with his wife +4 for Clue card credits