Sang Sacré
The fictional Buffista City. With a variety of neighborhoods, climates, and an Evil Genius or two, Sang Sacre is where we'd all live if it were real. Jump in -- find a neighborhood, start a parade, become a superhero. It's what you make it.
History. Map.
Waking up... Too much partying... Too much alcohol... Stupid sun in eyes...
Lost pronouns and articles somewhere last night. Crawl out of bed and make some coffee. Sit down at desk and notice computer is already on. Penguin must have already gone on-line this morning. Browser window still open, start reading thread. Wow, there sure were a lot of posts in this one. Wonder what's up? Continue reading... And reading... And reading...
Close browser window and shut down machine. Open cabinet door under kitchen sink and coax trembling penguin out from inside. Head across the street to park with bird. Find biggest patch of dandelions available and plop down. Sigh...
Between classes I take my bag lunch and head to the dandelion patch. DX is there, lying face down. I can tell he's breathing because of the dandelion seeds floating about. He sighs.
"I know what you mean." I sit down and start munching on my apple.
I look up. It's one of the Knuts. I drag myself up.
"Remember that afternoon we were all up the river by the old fortress, and you and Hec and I were all sitting in the meadow, listening to tunes. Those were good times. God, I need a beer."
I pack a basket and head down to the park. There's a frazzled-looking group starting to assemble in the dandelion patch.
I open the basket. "Fried chicken? Potato salad? Chill pills?"
"Remember that afternoon we were all up the river by the old fortress, and you and Hec and I were all sitting in the meadow, listening to tunes. Those were good times. God, I need a beer."
I pull two bottles of Dogtown Porter from my Bottomless Beer Caddy. Never empty, always cold. I pop the top and offer it to DX.
"I remember. Emmylou and Tom. Willow and the Penguin. Er, I don't mean any of that in a slashy way."
Susan arrives with a pic-a-nick basket. "Fried chicken? Potato salad? Chill pills?" I politely decline the fried chicken and toss my applecore towards the edge of the meadow.
"Got any peace, love and harmony in there?"
Bob wanders from room to room, obviously looking for something.
"Now what?" I'm working on a messy plot outline and I don't need another distraction. At least he finally put clothes on.
"Can't you hear that?"
"Normal human hearing here, creature of the night. What?"
"Lots of people. Arguing with each other."
"Nope, sorry. Somebody's TV is probably up loud. You know, the city's quiet again, Aeshma's gone. Why don't you hit the tunnels, go find some trouble to get in?"
He gives me a distracted pout. "Are you throwing me out?"
"No, just pointing out that you haven't been anywhere except with me for days now."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
I honestly don't know why I'm saying this, in the face of that grin. "I'm saying it because my poor human joints and muscles need a break. Sure, I'm willing to die with a smile on my face, but can't we put that off till next week or something? I've got a deadline."
"Fine," he sniffs. "I can tell when I'm not loved."
He huffed out, as if I couldn't see the grin on his face. Sheesh.
"Ooh, chicken. Thanks you so much, Susan," I say as I accept the offered chicken breast. Cold chicken and beer really hit the spot. Of course, beer is always good. Well, except for that yogi beer the orcs like, because it's tarter than the average beer.
Someone has their boombox going.
What's so funny 'bout peace, love, and understanding...
"Got any peace, love and harmony in there?"
"I've got some peace sign buttons," I reply. "And I was reading about a mellowing spell, but I'm not sure it's magical magic, you know? Something about lying flat on one's back, watching the clouds go by and slowly chanting 'I must chill'."
I eye the beer caddy. "Don't suppose you have anything in the way of hard cider in there?"
I hand Susan a bottle of Woodchuck Cider and lay down among the dandelions.
Someone's playing Elvis Costello nearby. I can feel my blood pressure dropping already.
I don't think I drank all that much, really. Maybe I have a cold coming on. Maybe a storm is coming. That can cause a headache, can't it?
My house is a shambles. One I leave to the Instagolem. I can't seem to deal with compound sentences. Or is it complex? I don't care.
I wander outside until I hit a park. Dandelions? In March? Whatever. I flop on the grass.