If My Characters Asked You For A Job*

     Today I find myself looking at my LinkedIn account (like that's anything
new) perusing jobs, potential companies/contacts and not getting far.   Like much of the world, networking requires a “look at me” approach.  Something which is great for extroverted people but that is not easy for the introverts, yep that includes me.  I have adapted quite well over the years.  If you've met me before and I decide you're okay watch out for that second, third, or fourth meeting because I'm going to extrovert personality all over your a***, sorry, the place.  I can be described as anything from sweet to quirky or weird.  I have to admit that the Internet does make things easier, once I remind myself that I am in cyberspace, can relax, and share a little bit more of me without tearing a hole in the fabric of time or space.

     I'm looking at my account, okay, scrutinizing it.  I describe myself as a humorist.  My brain says (I call my brain 'Dude' just so you know).  I like that name.  It's so relaxed, laid back, smart without having to try very hard because hey, we all like to feel smart, right?  Besides, I would hate to call my brain Lance if it felt more like a Steve or a Joe or a Jackson.  Why doesn't my brain have a female name? (Scratches head)  Good question.  Dude says he'll have to get back to you on that one.   Anyway Dude says, “If you want people to see you as a well-written individual with a knack for humor you have to make them laugh.”  I told you Dude was smart right?  Which begs the question, “Can people see you as well-written if you've named your brain “Dude”?   Poor Dude two questions in one morning.

      It's all so complicated isn't it?  I wanted to talk about work, looking for work, transitioning into a new field, reinventing yourself (apparently one doesn't have to be super rich to do this, I can't help but think that being super rich would make the process easier) while still making people laugh.  Just give me a second, that was a long sentence, Dude needs some air.

      I decided that one of the clearest and quickest ways to share who I am (a t-shirt might be quicker...hmm) and still laugh at the challenges of getting, excuse me, (clears throat) finding work would be if I illustrated for you the things that might happen if one of my characters approached a hiring manager, peer, colleague, or even a random person in an effort to find work.

      TP is an interesting character.  He's a faerie.  A real one.  A really tiny man with a little pair of wings.  He flies around and everything.  He has a fondness for pixies.  Quite a reputation.   He's also fairly obnoxious.

      We enter a small dark room to find TP flying around a large gilded cage.  The hiring manager (a human) he has been interviewing with is locked inside.  He's wearing nothing but a loin cloth.  No, I don't think this is appropriate at all but according to TP this is how things get done in “the Fae”.  Don't shoot the messenger.

   “Would you let me out?”  The hiring manager asks.

   “Have you hired me yet?”   TP asks.

   “No.”  The hiring manager responds.

   “TP says 'No' too.”  The faerie says.

   “Okay then...you're hired.”  The hiring manager says.

   “You haven't asked me any questions.   Silly human.”  TP giggles.

   “Okay...”  The hiring manager decides that the situation might feel more manageable if he does what TP wants him to do.   He is a hiring manager after all.   He'll just do his job without the benefit of long pants.  Oh...the goose pimples.

   “So TP, tell me a little bit about yourself.”

   “I'm TP the faerie.  I want to learn how humans work.  Give me a job.”

   “What kind of job are you interested in?  What kind of work would you be good at?”

   “I tell people what to do and someone gives me lots of money.”  TP giggles.  “What else is there?”

   “You're a work smart not hard kind of guy.”

   “I'm a faerie, work doesn't exist for me.”

   “If that's your philosophy it sounds like you have a good attitude.”

TP looks at the hiring manager, studies his clothes, his keys, and various electronic devices that are neatly stacked on the floor just out of said hiring manager's reach.  “Give me your job.”  TP says.

“My job is technical.  It took me a long time to acquire the skill set needed to do this work.”

“TP can do it.  Want to see?”  The faerie asks.

      The hiring manager looks around.  He's in a gilded cage, wearing a loin cloth, and the cage is locked.  It's not like he's going anywhere.  “Sure.”

   “You're fired!  Go home!”  TP says giggling.

   “That was very good but giggling after you've fired someone is insensitive and the fired employee may have grounds to sue for emotional distress.”

   “Go Away!”   TP says and with a flick of the faerie's wrist the hiring manager disappears in a puff of smoke.

   Which is why TP is not allowed outside unsupervised.   Seriously, this did not really happen.   It's totally made up.   I'm not kidding.

    Aunt Purdy comes from a children's book I wrote a couple of years ago.  She is over 35, kind, smart, and gentle in nature.   One of the people central to her family and her community.

   Aunt Purdy enters the hiring manager's office with a plate of freshly baked cookies.  After handing the hiring manager her resume she sits down with her covered plate and waits.

   “I can see that you have many of the skills we are looking for.  You might have to start at a lower level position at least for the first year, would that be all right?”

  “That would be fine.”

  “You're hired.”   The hiring manager says.   Who isn't going to hire Aunt Purdy?  Seriously folks.

  “Cookie?”  Aunt Purdy asks.

  “Yes thank you.”

   Tinkletoes walks into the hiring manager's office stopping at his chair to look him in the eye.  “I'm Tinkletoes,”  he says,   “you're going to hire me.”

   The hiring manager looks at the resume printed on military green paper with camo trim along the page's side while Tinkletoes sits down in a chair on the other side of the manager's desk.  “You don't seem to have many of the skills we are looking for.  You are confident which is good.  I could keep the resume on file for you if you'd like.”

  Tinkletoes reaches into the pocket of his camos and a metal cannister falls out, rolling along the floor to stop at the hiring manager's feet.

  “I told you that you were gonna hire me.”  The self-proclaimed mercenary says, a small metal pin is dangling of off the end of one finger.

  “Threatening me isn't going to work.”

  “Three, two, one...”  Tinkletoes says, scooting his chair as far back from the hiring manager's desk as possible just as putrid dark smoke starts to billow out of the ends of the metal container.

  “Oh my god.  No, not this not now...”  The hiring manager pushes his chair as far from the cannister as he can and hides his head.  All he hears is the sound of the smoke as it slowly escapes the can, the feared explosion never comes.

  When the smoke has been expelled completely from the can Tinkletoes reaches out and picks it up.  

 “The smoke grenade must have fallen out of my pocket. Sorry.”

  “There is a no weapons policy at this company.   I will not be hiring you.”  The hiring manager coughs out handing Tinkletoes back his resume.

  “I'm a great guy to have around.  Kinda smart.   Funny.”

  The hiring manager continues coughing and shakes his head.

  “I make custom lightsabers in my spare time.  I could probably make you one.”

  “I'm a Trekkie . Star Wars is the enemy.”  The hiring manager proclaims.

  “Isn't there room for both?”  Tinkletoes asks grinning.

  “Noooo.”  The hiring manager says.  His “no” ending with a fit of coughing.

  “I'm not even gonna ask about Firefly.”  Tinkletoes mutters.  “I think you should consider me for a job.  I am a veteran.”   He says addressing the hiring manager.

  The manager looks at Tinkletoes and glares.

  “I single handedly saved the world from being taken over by Ninja Zombies.  You don't want to be without me on your team if space aliens attack.   Give me the schematics for this building and I could have a plan for a complete lock down on this place by the end of the week.  A space alien would never live to see the inside.”

  The hiring manager picks up the phone and says, “Hello, Security.”

  “You're busy.  I'll just let myself out.”  Tinkletoes says leaving the room.

   Sitting at my computer now reading over what I have written I know I have illustrated my ability to write humor.  I always feel better with feedback though don't you?   Dude likes it.  He says you should too.  In my peripheral vision I can see something fluttering to my right.   The faerie nods in approval. 

 Something, sorry, someone is breathing on the back of my neck.

  "So what do you think?"  

  "Looks good.  Let's get this out there, the offers are gonna start rollin' in.” Tinkletoes answers.

Within a few minutes I'm done.   Letting out a sigh I rise from the chair satisfied that my mission is complete.

  “I need the computer!”  Dobby's voice can be heard from the living room.

  The faerie plants himself on his own personal “any” key and refuses to budge.  “TP's Turn!”

  “No.  She needs more contacts on the LinkedIn account.   I'm taking command of this workstation.”  

Tinkletoes says sitting down.

  I look at Tinkletoes doubtfully.

  “You need more contacts.”

  “I know but this isn't like acquiring Facebook friends.  I need to make business contacts.”

  “Every contact is a good contact.”  Tinkletoes says.

  “How is a military surplus vendor going to help me find work as a writer?”

  “He gets catalogs?”

  “No tweeting.”

  “Tweeting can be helpful too.”

  “You're making people at the Pentagon nervous.”

  “I'm just sharing my ideas.”   Tinkletoes counters.

  “Some ideas aren't meant to be shared.”

  Did I mention my vivid imagination?  It's with me all the time. 

  

  Thank you for reading.  Have a nice day.

*This post is separate and unrelated to the storyline that is currently running.

Stranger Things Have Happened

“What?”   Dobby mouths back.

“I'm not ready.”  Tinkletoes mouths.

“You just said you were.”  The ginger tabby whispers.

Tinkletoes turns back to Writer Lady.  He dumps the remaining contents of a bag of flour into her mixing bowl and says, “Enough?”

Writer Lady nods.

“I'll be right back.   I've got to see a cat about a...about a...”  A silence grows as Tinkletoes struggles to finish his fabrication.  “A hairball.   I've got to see a cat about a hairball.  I'll be right back.”  He meets Dobby in the bonus room, the feline pounces.

“What's going on?  You asked Mom out.”   Dobby says.

“I'm not ready for this.”  Tinkletoes says.

“I told her how great you were.   I told her to give you a chance.  How can you not be ready?”  Dobby asks.

“I'm ready.   I'm just not ready to go out with her...you know...outside.”

Dobby looks around making sure no one is listening.

Seeing them talking from the kitchen, Dylan wanders over to the pair.   “Going out...to go outside, toss a ball around, enjoy the sunshine, peddle your papers, play football, roll down a hill with your best friend.”

Peter follows him into the room and picks up where his little brother leaves off.  “Tinkletoes is a grown-up going out is different for grown-ups little brother.  For Tinkletoes going out means coming out of the depths of his man cave and keeping company with a special friend or a potential mate.”

“Like a girl?”   Dylan asks his face scrunching up with disdain.  “Gross.”

“Writer Lady.”   Peter answers.

“She's a girl?”  Dylan asks.

“Yes.”  Peter responds.

“I only asked because she's so nice and girls are mean except for Aunt Purdy and Mom.”

“She's a girl too.”

Dylan looks at Tinkletoes.  “She's a nice girl.  It's okay to take her outside to play.   She won't hurt you.”

“That's nice little brother.”   Peter says.   “I don't think they need our help with this.  Let's get back to those noodles.  I bet we'll be done making them soon.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”  Peter answers.

“I want to see Diomedes eat them.  I think there are too many noodles even for him.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.   I think he'll eat all of those noodles and then throw up everywhere. Dragon vomit is gonna be so cool.”

“You'll be okay with cleaning up the mess then?”   Peter asks.

“Dragon vomit is gross.   I hope Diomedes doesn't get sick.”  Dylan announces.

“Me too little brother.   Me too.”  Peter says guiding Dylan back to the kitchen.

After the boys leave Dobby turns back to his friend.

“I don't have experience with this type of battle especially on foreign soil.”  Tinkletoes says.

  Dobby looks at Tinkletoes doubtfully.

“I haven't been on as many dates as you'd think.  None outside of town.  If this goes outside town I can't use any of my battle plans.  There will be outside variables influencing the outcome.  Things will be beyond my control.”

TP pops into the bonus room fluttering next to Tinkletoes.  “He thinks he's got control over things like people spend all of their time doing everything he says.   Silly human.”  The faerie giggles.

“I'm a big deal around here.   Once we have left home, she might not like me as much.   There are other men at a city con.  Men that might be more...” A silence fills the room. “impressive.   She's gonna meet some of those men, she's not gonna like me anymore.”

“She didn't like you that much to begin with.   Mom has not only agreed to go out with you but has also volunteered to meet you somewhere.   A new place.  You haven't even told her where it is yet so it isn't about the destination.  How many women have offered to do that for you?”

Tinkletoes grins and starts to answer.

“Women that know you well but aren't related to you.”   Dobby emphasizes.

Tinkletoes closes his mouth.   Something captures his attention.  “Smell that?” He asks.

The ginger tabby sniffs the air.   “What, that?”

Tinkletoes inhales more deeply and closes his eyes.  “Yeah.”

“That's Mom's chicken broth.   They must be getting ready to cook the noodles.”

“Now I'm hungry.”   Tinkletoes says.

“Mom will make sure everyone eats as soon as Diomedes does.”

“Let's get back in there and help.”  Tinkletoes says.

TP spins around and reappears in the garb of an impeccably groomed housewife complete with full skirted dress, heels, apron, and perfectly coiffed hair. “He's so sexy when he takes charge like that.”  He says breathlessly, pretending to swoon.

Dobby rolls his eyes before following Tinkletoes back into the kitchen.

“So what are we doing?”  Tinkletoes asks.

“According to Bugsy we have enough noodles made to coat Diomedes' digestive system.  Writer Lady answers gesturing to the piles of freshly cut noodles covering her kitchen counters.   “I have two large pots of broth going, as soon as they are boiling we're cooking,  Diomedes is eating, and hopefully keeping his food um...in.  Is it in or down?”

“Both if we're lucky.”  Tinkletoes answers.

“Mom, will what's in the noodles be enough medicine?”  Dobby asks.

“Diomedes and TP, before he so conveniently disappeared (Writer Lady looks at TP pointedly) House has been washing dishes for me thankyouverymuch, infused the broth with magic too.  Between the noodles and the broth there is enough magic to cure Diomedes, if it is going to work at all.  We just have to wait and see.”

“Did you find it?'  Writer Lady asks looking at Tinkletoes.

“Did I find what?”

“Your hairball?”

Tinkletoes looks at Dobby for help.   The ginger tabby shrugs.  “As it turns out, I didn't need one.”  He says.

“That's good?"  She stops, thinks about and says.  "That's good."  Shaking her head she moves on, "So where is this con you're going to?” Writer Lady asks as she watches her pots.

“In the city.   Big place.  Big, big, place.”

“There are lots of cities.  Several big ones, so which one is it?”  Writer Lady asks.

Tinkletoes says nothing.

Writer Lady looks at him and waits.

The liquid in both large pots are making a faint sizzling sound as bubbles develop increasing in number and then growing in size as the broth comes to a boil.   Tinkletoes looks at the stove as bubbles start making their way to the underside of the glass lid threatening to boil over.

“My broth.”  Writer Lady says crossing the kitchen to the stove.

“Help.”  Tinkletoes says looking at TP and Dobby.

“Just tell her where you're going.”   Dobby says.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“If I tell where it is she might show up on her own.”  Tinkletoes says.

“It's Mom.  She's pretty smart don't you think she can figure it out on her own?”

“I'm hoping she isn't interested in doing that much work.”

“So where is it?'  Writer Lady asks as she turns down the flames under each pot and adds noodles to the boiling broth.

Tinkletoes looks from TP to Dobby.   Both are holding up signs one reads “New York” and the other “Los Angeles.”

When Writer Lady turns to face Tinkletoes each sign disappears in a puff of smoke.

“New Angeles.”   Tinkletoes responds.

“New Angeles?”  Writer Lady repeats, raising an eyebrow.  “Where's that?”   She asks.

“In the middle.”  Seeing that he has her attention Tinkletoes continues his fabrication.  “Half-way between New York and Los Angeles.  It's gonna be the next great city.  It's new.”  Tinkletoes lowers his head and mutters,  “Really new.”

“Hence the name 'New Angeles'.”   Writer Lady says.

“Exactly.”
“It's in the middle between New York and Los Angeles.”  Writer Lady repeats.

Tinkletoes nods.

“So that would put the next great city in Kansas.  No.”   She says snapping her fingers.   “Nebraska.”   That's an odd place to put a new metropolis don't you think?”

“No?”

“So, um...what's in Nebraska?”  Writer Lady asks.

“Cows and stuff?”

“In a booming metropolitan city?”

“Cows make good alternative transportation.” Tinkletoes says.

“Dinner To Go.” TP says giggling.
"On The Hoof."  Ray adds.
"As Fresh As It Gets."  Dobby chimes in.
"Oh my goodness."  Diomedes says.
"If any Nebraskans get offended, you are my witness Diomedes, it wasn't me."  Writer Lady says stirring noodles.
"Of course Mi'lady."
"I don't know where they get this stuff."
"Certainly not from you Mi'lady."
"Most certainly not."  

Around The Mixing Bowl

“Do you know what you might want to do?  When...” Tinkletoes asks, everyone is working together in the kitchen to put together Diomedes' magical meal.

“You're asking me out?  Now?”  Writer Lady asks standing over a large bowl as she mixes noodle dough.

Tinkletoes looks around the room.   Everyone: Ray, Carp, Peter, Dylan, TP, Diomedes, even Furnatche is helping.   Mural Man and House would be but they are made out of paper after all.   They aren't much help with this part.  These things happen.

“We are here doing this.  It's gonna take a while.”

“What is it people normally do?”  Writer Lady asks.  “Dinner?”

“When?”  Tinkletoes presses.

“I don't know.  What would be a good day for you?”

“Tomorrow?”   Tinkletoes asks.

“Demons, dragons, Dobby dying and returning, diarrhea and making enough homemade noodles to feed a full grown dragon.  No, I'm not moving tomorrow. At all.”

Both continue working.  Tinkletoes adding flour to the dough.  Writer Lady mixing it up.

“We could try to go out next weekend.”   Writer Lady suggests.

“Next weekend?”   He repeats.

“Yes.  The current situation should be resolved.  Everyone will have had some rest.  Diomedes might still be visiting.  He seems to be enjoying getting to know everyone.”

“I can't next weekend.  I'm busy.”  Tinkletoes says.

“You're always here.   You practically live here, how can you be busy?”

“I am.”  Tinkletoes counters.

Writer Lady looks at the self proclaimed mercenary waiting for more information.

“My buddy, Anlace, the one with the lightsaber shop?  He needs a favor.  I'll be meeting him at a con and helping out.”

“Oh.”   Writer Lady says.

“The castle's portcullis defending fair maiden's heart begins its achingly slow yet short descent back into its locked position.”   Carp narrates.

TP's giggling can be heard from the opposite side of the kitchen.  The faerie disappears reappearing next to Tinkletoes wearing a distinctly cut Cuban style suit and holding a Conga drum.  “You've got some 'splainin' to do!”  The faerie calls out, beating on the drum.

“No he doesn't.”  Writer Lady says looking at TP, she lowers her eyes, and returns to her work.

TP spins around quickly losing the suit and the drum.  When he stops spinning he is wearing the robes of a Jedi elder.   The faerie is sporting the elongated ears and distinctive green skin of Yoda.  “Yes he does.   He does.”

“He's a grown man.  He doesn't have to explain himself.”  Writer Lady says not looking up from her dough.

“Yes. I do.”   Tinkletoes says.   “Anlace has liked my lightsaber designs for a while now.  He's been after me to design a line of custom lightsabers.   I finally said I would.”

Silence fills the room as everyone waits for something deep and emotional to come out of Tinkletoes' mouth.   Something juicy.

“What made you decide to do it now?”  Writer Lady asks.

“I was going to sell my lightsabers to Anlace to pay for the replacement of your shed and lawnmower.   Anlace wouldn't take them.  He said he would rather work with me on this project.  I could keep my collection and we could both make some money.

“This weekend is the first con where your designs will be for sale?”  Writer Lady asks.

“Yep.   All of them.  He made posters and stuff.  I kinda have to be there.” Tinkletoes admits.

“So, in other words, the only reason we can't go out is that you have a prior business commitment.”

“Yeah.”

“Then I understand.  We can go out another time.”   Writer Lady says.

Tinkletoes stops working and studies Writer Lady closely.  “You're not mad?”  He asks.

“No.”

“You understand?”

“Yep.”

Tinkletoes stands in one spot not moving.   Dobby walks over to him to see if he's all right.

“What just happened?”   Tinkletoes asks looking at Dobby.

“She understands.  Mom can be very understanding about these things.”  Dobby says.

The self proclaimed mercenary is speechless.

“It's okay. I'll explain it to you some other time.”  Dobby says.  “There is an art to understanding Mom.”

“He has to put together the slide show first.”  TP giggles.   “With a slide rule and a mime.”   The faerie snaps his fingers.   “Here's your textbook.”   He says giggling.  A book as thick as “War and Peace” is floating through the air next to TP.

“I'm kind of busy here.”  Tinkletoes says.   “What's it say?”   He asks.

“Never instigate war with Writer Lady and you will always be at peace.”

Writer Lady watches the exchange.   “I'm really not that complicated.”  She says.

“You're not easy either.”  Tinkletoes counters.

“A woman's not supposed to be easy.”

“You're not.”  He says.

“You already said that.”   She points out.

“So Mom, how's that dough coming?”   Dobby asks changing the subject.

“I think we're ready for the next step.”

“Infusion Time!”  Dylan calls out.

Diomedes stops cutting a batch of noodles and puts down his knife.  Both he and TP stand on either side of Writer Lady at the mixing bowl.  The room lightens and darkens as Bugsy with the help of Diomedes and TP generate the magic that becomes part of the noodle dough.  The combined spells make the dough pulse and glimmer filling the room with a glittering light.

“It looks like this batch is ready for roll out.”  Tinkletoes announces.

Diomedes picks up the bowl emptying the dough on to a board that Ray and Carp are holding.  The board carrying the freshly enhanced dough is placed on the counter next to the dough Diomedes is working on waiting to be patted out and cut into noodles.

Writer Lady and Tinkletoes start working on another batch of noodle dough.  After several minutes she says, “If you really wanted to have dinner.   I could come out.”

“Where?”

“I don't know.  Wherever it is you're going next weekend.  I could meet you at the con.”

He looks at Writer Lady in disbelief.

“It's a long way to go.” Tinkletoes says.

“I have been known to get out of the house every now and then.”

“It's kind of a big place.”

“I'm a big girl.  I think I can handle it, unless you don't want me there.”

Sensing a trap, Tinkletoes pales slightly and answers carefully, “It's not that.  I wouldn't want you to be bored.  I don't know what I'm gonna be doing.   You could be spending a lot of time alone.”

“After all this,”  Writer Lady says gesturing to the group of people, animals, and magical creatures all stuffed into her kitchen.  “Time alone in a new place might be nice.   If I get bored, then coming home to what's familiar will be even better.”

“It sounds like you've got things all worked out.”  Tinkletoes says.

“Not really.  The details shouldn't be too difficult to handle.  If a person is committed to getting something done.”  She counters.

Tinkletoes looks back at Writer Lady, “I wouldn't have said all the things I did if I wasn't ready to take my place on the front lines.”

“Are you sure?   From where I'm standing you're not very forthcoming with your details which makes you appear a little bit unprepared.”  Writer Lady says.

“I'm ready for this.”   Tinkletoes says, pouring flour into the mixing bowl.

For a brief moment, Writer Lady's lips turn up slightly.  She looks away and goes back to her work.

Taking the opportunity to turn to Dobby, the self proclaimed mercenary, zombie slayer, and our greatest protection against an alien invasion (to hear him tell it) quietly mouths the word, “HELP” as emphatically as he can.

A Dragon In The Shower

Without skipping a beat Tinkletoes stands up, raising the dry erase board from the floor he calls the rest of his command over for the official briefing.

“This mission has three objectives...” he begins.   Tinkletoes' eyes follow Writer Lady until she disappears into the kitchen completely.

 Dobby quietly follows Writer Lady into the kitchen while everyone else's backs are turned.

“Mom?”

“Yes kitty.” Writer Lady answers as she opens cabinets pulling out supplies and placing them on the counters.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes sweetie.  Why wouldn't I be?”

“Tinkletoes didn't mean it.   He just sees things a little bit differently.”

Writer Lady quietly continues organizing the space, picking out the needed tools and preparing for a big mess. “I'm okay.  It's just when you have been cautious, opening up to someone can take a lot out of you.   As silly as it is, the dry erase board incident makes me wonder...”

“If it's okay to stay opened up?”  Dobby asks.

“Yes it does.”

“I knew you would be needing this.”   Dobby says.   The ginger tabby holds up a recorder.   “Press the button.” 

  A recording plays.

“whatever it is we're doing here. Think about your Mom, what she would want. If it came right down to it, if she had to choose would she want that romantic moment with the fireworks, the music playing all around and well...me or would she want to know that Diomedes is well again and no longer suffering.”

“A clean house, she would love to have a clean house too!” House exclaims.

“She'd probably want that too.” Tinkletoes agrees.

“She would want Diomedes to be okay before anything else.” Dobby says.

“That's what we love about her. Right?” Tinkletoes asks.

“Yeah.” Dobby agrees.

“It's okay to stay opened up Mom.   It's okay.”   Dobby says.

“Thanks kitty.”  Writer Lady says giving Dobby back the recorder.

“I've got to get back before anyone notices I'm gone.”

 “They are to clean up Diomedes, clean up the living room, and make a really big batch of noodles.  Magical ones.  Your assignments are fairly clear.  Let's get going men.”

“I'm not gonna do that.”  Dobby says pointing to the board.

“Why not?”

“I'm a cat.   Cats don't like water.”

“You're helping Diomedes take a shower.   You're not getting in yourself.” Tinkletoes points out.

“I don't want to help the dragon either.”  Carp says.   “No offense, turning to face Diomedes he continues, “I've just never given a dragon a shower before.”

“Nor have I had a shower before.”  Diomedes responds.

“You're perfect for each other.”  Tinkletoes says.

“I don't know, the shower is on the small side.”  Carp says.

“That's what makes you important Carp.  You're going to make sure he doesn't get turned around and break something.”   Tinkletoes says.

“Perhaps if we just took him outside and hosed him down.”  Carp suggests.

“You can't.  The neighbors might see him.”  Tinkletoes says.

“I could let Diomedes eat the neighbor.   No witnesses.”

“If you'll excuse my interruption sir, I'm not that kind of dragon.”   Diomedes announces.

“He's not that kind of dragon.   Get going.”  Tinkletoes says.  “You too Dobby.”

The ginger tabby looks up at Diomedes.   The dragon is still pale.  His scales are coated with excrement.

“Okay Diomedes let's head to the bathroom.”   Dobby says.

“Don't forget the towels.”  Tinkletoes says.

Feline, dragon, and human begin their short, slushy walk to the bathroom.

“Wash under his scales too!”

“How are we supposed to do that?”   Carp calls back.

“Doesn't she have one of those puffy things on a stick?”

Carp looks at Tinkletoes.

“Improvise.”

“Oh yes.   My goodness.”   Diomedes exclaims as he stands under the shower. “This is most enjoyable.”  The dragon is stuffed into the tub.   His tail is running the length of the tub.  Its end is sticking out.  Carp is standing on the outside of the tub by the faucet.  Dobby is at the other end, both are soaking wet.

“I understand now why there is an entire room dedicated to this amazing invention.  I feel so much better.  So happy, relaxed.”  Diomedes says.

There is a faint sound, the bottom of the tub shakes briefly.   The odor that accompanies the trembling hits Dobby directly in the face.  The ginger tabby turns a little green.

“What is that smell?”  Diomedes asks.

“You.”  Dobby chokes out.

There is another gentle sound and a rumble along the tub's floor only this time Diomedes gets a whiff too.

“That is fragrant isn't it?”  Diomedes asks.

Dobby nods and turns his head away for some fresh air coughing a little.   Returning to his post he checks on Carp who appears to be oblivious to the entire incident.

“I am sorry sirs.  This is most embarrassing.”  Diomedes says.

“Let's get this done.”   Carp says holding up a mesh brush.

Dobby holds up a shower brush and nods.

“Oh my goodness.”  Diomedes says.

“You're angry.”  Tinkletoes says entering the kitchen.

“Angry, why would I be angry?”

“It is just a dry erase board.”   Tinkletoes says.

“It was my dry erase board.”  Writer Lady counters, setting bags of flour up on the counter.

“When the living room clean up is finished the board will be cleaned up too.”  He says stepping into her space. “It might even be like new.”

“Couldn't save it?”  Writer Lady asks taking in a breath.

“No.  It was trashed.  There' a new one waiting for you in High Command.”

“You didn't have TP fix it?”

“I was lucky to get him out of the hot tub.”

“How?”  Writer Lady asks not looking up from her work.

“That was the tricky part.”  Tinkletoes steps a little bit further into her space. “But I managed.”   Standing behind her, he leans in and whispers, “I took his birthday away.”

“That doesn't sound very nice.”

“Pixie One helped.  It's not as bad as it sounds.  Diomedes is showering and the living room is being cleaned up all that's left is to make the noodles.”  Tinkletoes gets even closer. “Tell me pretty lady, how can I help you?”

“By stepping back.”  Writer Lady says.  Her breath normalizes after he exits her space.

“You really don't like me do you?”

“You've grown on me.”  She admits turning to look at him.  “You can be obnoxious but you're there for me too.   You're okay Commander.  You're okay.  I also have to say that dragon poop stinks.  You're a little bit ripe.”

Tinkletoes looks down at his combat boots.  They are covered in muck.  His camouflage pants are coated too.   “I really should get cleaned up before spending time in the kitchen.  I'll be back.”  Tinkletoes says before turning around and leaving.  He slips on a patch of sludge, nearly kissing the floor on his way out.

Romantic Heroes and Dry Erase Boards

“Someone's going to die alone.  You resort to 'Someone's going to die alone'?” Writer Lady asks.

“If the shoe fits.”   Carp says.

“Let me tell you something you flat headed little man.”  Writer Lady says and the can of whoop a** is opened.

Ray pales at Writer Lady's tone and Dobby hides his face.

“Loved ones are nice to have around.  Having a special someone is fantastic.  But you can have a perfectly happy life without one.   The longer you carry on about being by yourself the lonelier you'll feel.  I had a husband.  I had the 'till death do us part thing' and guess what?  Death came.  I'm alone.  Well, technically I am.  Here I am “alone” and I have all of you here with me.  Dobby, his friends, his friend's friends, and my characters, not to mention all those characters in my head that haven't been born yet. My family and friends too.  It's practically impossible to be alone for more than a few hours.  I'm anything but alone thankyouverymuch.” Writer Lady stops talking, for a second anyway.  “You know what?   A wise man once said, 'Everyone dies alone.'  He's right, it's like being born.   It's one of those things a person has to do alone.  Die alone?   Heck yeah I'm going to die alone and you're going to die alone.  Ray's gonna die alone, Dobby too.  There's no other way.   So, put that in your pipe and smoke it.  If you'll excuse me, I have a sick dragon in my living room.”

At first Carp doesn't say anything.  There's shock, surprise, you know all that stuff.  “Feel better?” he asks before Writer Lady has a chance to leave the room. “I was just crabby because you going into the living room to help ruins my book. You didn't have to pull out the Joss Whedon on me.  That man is brilliant," Carp says wistfully, "if only I could write something like that someday.”

Dobby rolls his eyes.

“It's a great line.  So simple.”  Writer Lady agrees.

“Yet so profound.”   Carp says finishing her sentence.   “So are you done being mad at me?”   He asks.

“I guess so.”  She responds grudgingly.

“Go Whedonites!”  Carps exclaims holding up his hand for a high five.

Writer Lady shakes her head.  “I choose to have quiet respect.”

“Because you are a leaf on the wind.”  Carp says seriously.

Writer Lady nods in approval.

“This is too cheezy.   Can we go now?”  Dobby asks.

Writer Lady leaves the room carrying TP's cage with Dobby, Ray, and Carp following close behind.

“That was close dude.”   Ray says to Carp as they're walking through the kitchen.  “You could have died.”

Carp shifts his eyes towards Ray.  “All I want to know is if she still would have made that speech if there hadn't already been a romantic hero standing in her living room.”

“If you want I could go stand outside.”  Ray offers.

Carp shakes his head and runs a hand down his face.  There is no point trying to explain.  Besides the markers, dry erase board, and a hidden stash of cheese puffs are in High Command there's no time for such things.

Tinkletoes looks up as the rest of his company enters the doorway.  “Good. You're here.  Come on.  Hurry up.” He says, putting his hand around Writer Lady's wrist and guiding her into the room.  They kneel down in a makeshift meeting area.  It's a semi-dry spot.  “Mural Man and I...”

Diomedes coughs.

“Mural Man, Diomedes, and I...”

A high pitched squeal is heard.

“Mural Man, Diomedes, Bugsy, and I...”

“Who's Bugsy?”   Writer Lady asks.

“The stomach bug.   He lives in the dragon.”   Tinkletoes says.

“Diomedes has a stomach bug?”   She asks.  “Let's get rid of the stomach bug then.”

“He's a permanent resident.”  He counters and begins again.  “Mural Man, Diomedes, Bugsy, and I...”

“Excuse me...'cuse me!”  House yells.

“Is there anyone else here who needs credit for the last five minutes?”   Tinkletoes calls out to the room.  He's answered with silence.  “Okay.  Last time. Mural Man, Diomedes, Bugsy, House, and I have been working on a solution for Diomedes' diarrhea.  Diomedes had an upset stomach because of the trip here from Faerie.  When he ate the enchanted cheese balls it aggravated the dragon's already upset stomach.   Bugsy conjured his own magic to diffuse the magic in the cheese balls.   When he did...”  Tinkletoes stops and thinks for a minute,  "...it triggered a burglar alarm in TP's magic.  The original magic absorbed the new magic and then amplified it.  Causing this mess.  What we're going to do is use a little bit of TP's magic and some of Bugsy's, put it inside some food, and feed it to the dragon.   The combined magics should neutralize everything.   No more diarrhea.”

“That sounds like a plan.  What are you going to feed him?”  She asks.

“That's why I needed you.  Dobby says you're in charge of deciding about food when either of you are sick.   What should we give him?”

“Chicken noodle soup is a good remedy.”   Writer Lady says.

“Liquid just seems to make things worse.”  Tinkletoes says looking at the sprays of dragon poop dripping down all four living room walls.

“If you take out the liquid you would have some chicken, a little bit of celery, some carrots, but mostly it would be noodles.”  She points out.

“Let's put the magic in the noodles.”  Tinkletoes says.

“That might not be very healthy.  Diomedes has been sick.”

“He would eat more of them.  The noodles are the best part.”   He says.

“Noodles it is.”  Writer Lady agrees.

“This mission has three objectives.”  Tinkletoes says continuing his briefing of Writer Lady.  “They are to clean up Diomedes, clean the living room, and to make the enchanted noodles.   We need enough noodles fill up Diomedes so that his digestive system gets coated with the newly combined spell.  As you can see on this dry erase board I have divided up the various assignments.”

“You used my dry erase board?”  Writer Lady asks.   “The one in High Command?”

“It's the only one in the house.”   Tinkletoes says not looking up from the board.

“It's my dry erase board that's laying in this muck?”  She asks.

“Dragon poop.”  Tinkletoes answers.  “It's lying on the carpet which has been saturated with dragon poop.  Shit's everywhere.  There was nowhere else to put it.”

“You need me to help make the noodles right?”

“Yep.  You'll have to wait for Diomedes and TP to finish with their other jobs first.”  Tinkletoes puts one hand down on the dry erase board pushing it into the carpet further, poop seeps out from under the board as he reaches across it to a coffee table. Tinkletoes replaces the red marker he was using and retrieves a blue one.

Writer Lady's face pales at the sound.  “I'll be in the kitchen.”  She says leaving the room.

“Don't you want to see the rest of the chart?”  He calls after her.   “ I used different colors and everything.”  Tinkletoes mutters.  “Not all romantic heroes can kick ass with a dry erase board.”

Fireworks

“No more butts.  It's time to fix this.”  Tinkletoes says.

“We haven't gotten to the synonyms yet.”  Dobby says.

“It's over.”

“We haven't come out the other end.”

“Dobby.”

“O...kay.”  The ginger tabby responds.

“We are going to send both types of magic into Diomedes at the same time to neutralize everything that is irritating him.”  Mural Man repeats the plan for those that did not read last week's post.   Shame on you...go back and read it.  We'll wait (waiting music plays).   Back?  Okay then.

“Your delivery system?”  Diomedes asks.

“Huh?”  Tinkletoes responds.

“How are we going to get the spells inside Diomedes?”  Mural Man asks.

“Shoot it up his a...”  Tinkletoes begins.
Dobby holds up pictures of younger readers.
“His pos...post...we'll shoot in the magic from behind.”   Tinkletoes says.

“Sir.  If you don't mind, my backside is a bit, tender at the moment.”  Diomedes says.

“Oh...um...yeah.”

“Maybe if we fed him something.”  Mural Man suggests.

“Like what?”  (More waiting music plays as several minutes pass.)  “Come on guys.  Someone must have some ideas.”   Tinkletoes looks around the room as the others avoid his eyes.  “How about you Dobby?”

“Mom always takes care of that stuff.  Illness, comfort foods.”

Tinkletoes stands up and paces the floor, squishing with every step. “Men...Something is wrong here.”

“What is it?”   Mural Man asks.

“Nothing has gone right since this whole thing started.   We are missing some of our fellow soldiers.  We need Ray and Carp.”  He says.

“Okay.”

“TP.

“The faerie that helped make this mess that makes sense.”  Mural Man agrees.

“And Writer Lady.”

Dobby looks at Mural Man gesturing furiously for him to help shoot the idea down.

“We don't need her?”  Mural Man counters.

“Yes we do.”  Tinkletoes says.

“No we don't.”

“Yes we do.”

Dobby gestures more furiously.

“No.   What do you want another woman in here for?  She's just going to carry on about the mess.  Trust me,”  Mural Man says, leaning in close,   “you don't want her here.   The females in this place are really high maintenance.”

“What!?”  House screeches.

“I didn't mean you dear.”  Mural Man calls out to House.

“Well...then!  Who did you mean?”

A tug on the leg of Tinkletoes' pants gets his attention and he looks down to find Dobby standing next to him.

“See?”  Dobby says.   “You don't want that in your life.”

Tinkletoes squats down and leans in to whisper to the ginger tabby.   “Okay Dobby.  What is this really about?”  He asks.

“You're supposed to be on a romantic quest.   If you call Mom to help then the fair maiden is saving your butt which makes the terms of your romantic quest null and void.  You won't win Mom's heart with your gesture.”

“Yeah.”   Tinkletoes says.   “That is important.   A romantic quest is a big deal.  If you think about it this thing with Diomedes happened before I had a chance to commence my journey.  My quest hasn't even started yet.”

Dobby looks at him doubtfully.

“Okay it has.  My butt isn't in any danger.   I'll be calling her in with a group of others so it's not like she heard about my quest and came looking for me because she knew I couldn't take care of myself.   It's a request.  In the end it will be her decision to join this...”  Tinkletoes looks around the room,  “whatever it is we're doing here.   Think about your Mom, what she would want.  If it came right down to it, if she had to choose would she want that romantic moment with the fireworks, the music playing all around and well...me or would she want to know that Diomedes is well again and no longer suffering.”

“A clean house, she would love to have a clean house too!”  House exclaims.

“She'd probably want that too.”  Tinkletoes agrees.

“She would want Diomedes to be okay before anything else.”   Dobby says, his head drooping in disappointment.

“That's what we love about her.   Right?”  Tinkletoes asks.

“Yeah.”   Dobby agrees.

“Don't worry, buddy.  We'll get this sorted out, just not right now.  Right now it's time to call in for reinforcements.   You know your mission?”   He asks Dobby.

“Yeah.”  Dobby says making his way out of the living room.   He stops just inside the kitchen to remove his helmet, combat boots, and protective suit (okay...garbage bag).  The ginger tabby makes the short trek to the bonus room where Writer Lady and Ray are reading a list of things to TP while TP quietly shakes his head from his soak in the hot tub.

“Anti-diahrreal?”  Writer Lady asks.

“No.”  TP says.

“Antibiotics?”  Ray asks.

“No.”

“Aspirin?”

“No.   There is no medicine in Faerie.  You must use your own.”  TP states once again.

“Duuude...”   Ray says.

“I know, the synonyms aren't working.”  Writer Lady says.  “I wonder what else we can try.”

“Mom.”   Dobby calls sitting down behind her.

“Herbal remedies maybe?”  She asks Ray.

“No one can ignore the power of the herbs.”  Ray answers.   “High five!”  He says raising a hand to gesture.

Writer Lady looks at Ray without saying a word.

“No high five.”   Ray says, there is disappointment in his voice.

“Mom.”

“We need to compile a list of herbs, quickly.  Do you know if Carp has ever written books about medicine women or herbal healers.”

“Duuude.”

“Women with brains fall in love too Ray.”

“Mom!”   Dobby calls out.

“What is it kitty?”   Writer Lady asks turning around.

“It's Diomedes he's still sick and his stomach bug says it's TP's fault.”  Dobby answers.

“Is not.”  TP argues.

“Diomedes has a stomach bug that talks?”  Writer Lady asks.

“It's complicated.”   Dobby says.  “Mom, Tinkletoes can't do this alone.  He needs help.  Your help.”

At the sound of these words Carp stops writing.   “Don't even think about it.”  He says approaching Writer Lady.  “You cannot go.”

“I'm going.”  Writer Lady says.

“If you go the romantic quest...”

“will be null and void.  I know.”  Writer Lady says finishing Carp's sentence.  “I'm going anyway.”

“Someone's going to die alone.”  Carp sings out as Writer Lady walks past him.  She turns and glares at him.  She turns back towards the living room and takes one step forward.

Writer Lady quietly mutters “No” and turns around again.  “I wasn't going to say anything but...”

Ray and Dobby groan simultaneously.

“I think it's time we straightened some things out here.”

Making Progress

Bugsy jumps up and down within the confines of Diomedes' cavernous mouth.

“Your fae-rie near-ly killed me. What are you go-ing to do a-bout it?” Diomedes says slowly.

“What was that?” House asks.

“Bugsy thinks that you might have hearing or comprehension difficulties. He asked me to speak slowly.” Diomedes answers.

“Excuse me?” House exclaims. “Did you hear that darling? Did you hear what the dragon said to me?”

Mural Man swallows nervously.

Tinkletoes laughs quietly. “House is getting offended because the little bug thinks she's not too bright.” He says to Dobby grinning, “It's okay to laugh Dobby, it's pretty funny.”

“Actually sir, he was referring to the entire group.” Diomedes explains.

“If we're so stupid then why has he been waiting for us to save him?” Tinkletoes asks.

“Because the dragon can't be cured and the mess can't be cleaned up without magic, doofus.” Diomedes answers.

“Them's fighting words you little....virus.” Tinkletoes says staring at Bugsy.

“You will help me.” He says staring back.

“What if I don't?” Tinkletoes asks.

“I am a stomach bug. I become a virus within any non-magical being. I will invade your body and take control of your digestive system, rendering you incapable of eating or drinking. Indefinitely.”

“What if I'm okay with that? Maybe I like to puke.” Tinkletoes says.

“Indefinitely.” Is reiterated. “I can go up to a week without food or water. Can you?” Diomedes asks.

“Let's find out.” Tinkletoes says.

“My carpets. My floors.” House groans.

"House, relax." Mural Man says turning his attention to Bugsy. “Diomedes is sick. He's miserable. House is a mess. We have been trying to help but we don't know what we're up against. You're trying to get through this alone and losing. We have a common cause.” Mural Man points out. “We need to be working together.”

“He's right. We need to stop arguing, work together, and fix this.” Tinkletoes says.

“If you know what's causing this problem Bugsy things can be resolved.” Dobby adds. “Will you work with us?” He asks.

Bugsy paces across the tip of Diomedes' tongue in thought. The bug stops and looks at Tinkletoes shaking his fist, he makes a rude gesture then returns to his pacing.

“He's going to say 'yes'.” Tinkletoes whispers to Dobby and Mural Man. Both look at him doubtfully.

“He looks angry.” Mural Man observes.

“Everyone gets mad at me sooner or later. I'm still around. Trust me. He's gonna say 'yes'.”

Bugsy stops pacing, takes his authoritative stance, and looks at the group. The stomach bug nods.

“For my sake and in the interest of ending the battle he has been fighting in my belly Bugsy agrees to work with you. He says he will tell you everything he knows.” Diomedes says.

“Let the de-briefing begin.” Tinkletoes says grinning.

“TP, we know you used magic to give the cheese balls their speed. All we need to know is how to turn off the spell so we can calm Diomedes' diarrhea.” Writer Lady says peeking into the cricket cage and trying to look pitiful.

TP is in the far corner of the cage, relaxing in his own personal hot tub. “No.” He says.

“If you help I'll let you out of the cage.” Writer Lady says.

“No.”

“Think about Diomedes. How bad he feels, how uncomfortable he must be.” She says.

“Faeries don't get sick. TP always feels good.”

“I know how it feels.” Ray says. “Diarrhea's the worst. Come on man, help him out.”

TP looks up thoughtfully. “TP will not help because TP cannot help.”

Writer Lady and Ray look at TP, waiting for more information.

“Faeries don't get sick. There is no medicine.” He says.

“No medicine?” Writer Lady asks.

TP shakes his head.

“In all of Faerie?”

“We don't need faerie medicine we need dragon medicine.” Ray points out.

“What about dragon medicine or magical animal medicine?” Writer Lady asks.

TP shakes his head.

“Citizens of Faerie cannot be sick in Faerie. Diomedes is sick here. He needs your medicine.”

“When faerie dust or magicus pulvus is conjured the strength, its ability to be altered, as well as the length of time it is effective bears largely on the age and power of the faerie that conjured, and invoked the spells on the dust to begin with,” Bugsy explains. Diomedes and Mural Man are standing next to each other. Having covered his surface with non-stick spray, Diomedes is using Mural Man as a dry erase board.

Dobby is listening closely while Tinkletoes takes notes for him. The ginger tabby is preparing to ask questions.

“Don't write across his butt. Whatever you do, please don't write across his butt.” Tinkletoes mutters.

“Do you have magic?” Dobby asks Bugsy.

“Yes, but only a little. I can and do draw upon Diomedes' magic as needed.”

“Have you tried to draw upon Diomedes' magic to destroy the faerie dust in his digestive system?” Dobby asks.

“Yes. Using faerie magic to neutralize other faerie magic is tricky. It doesn't always work. Your faerie, TT? Is that his name?”

“TP.” Tinkletoes corrects.

“TP is an old faerie with strong finely tuned magic. It is full of the intricacies.  Magic can be honed to identify an individual magical being.”

Tinkletoes yawns. Dobby nods a lot.

“Magic in the hands of an old faerie, one who has had lots of practice...”

“I've got a question.” Tinkletoes says. “Are you ever going to speak English?”

“it can be like a thumb print.” Diomedes continues answering. “A practiced faerie can weave sub-magic into their spells to make the magic unique. TP must be very old because the spell that was activated when I tried to neutralize the enchantment on the faerie dust not only absorbed the power in my spell. It amplified it.”

“In other words.” Dobby prompts recognizing Tinkletoes' frustration.

“In other words.” Diomedes reaches up and draws a mess propelling from Mural Man's butt. “Crap flew everywhere.”

Dobby nods.

“You just had to draw on his butt didn't you.” Tinkletoes says.

“I'm enjoying it.” House comments breathlessly.

“You would.” Tinkletoes grumbles. “So basically, that's how our buddy Diomedes became Sir Craps A Lot.” Tinkletoes says. “That sneaky little devil.”

“You have a strange look on your face.” Dobby says.

“Do I?” Tinkletoes says, looking at Dobby.

“Yeah.”

“We have a magical creature that got very sick from a magical spell, a secondary magic was introduced that intensified the problem.” Tinkletoes recaps. “How about if we brought both sources of magic together? If they both hit Diomedes' system at the same time could they neutralize each other?"  Tinkletoes looks around the room.  "What can I say, I have my moments."

“Two negatives do equal a positive.” Mural Man's voice offers from the nearest opening.

Everyone looks at Mural Man's butt.

“Did your butt just talk?” Tinkletoes asks.

“It is the quickest way for me to speak at the moment.” Mural Man responds.

“Don't do that again.” Tinkletoes says. “Looking at another's man butt is bad enough, listening to it?” He continues. “No.”
"Don't look at my butt." Mural Man says.  "Close your eyes and listen to my voice."
Dobby nods at Tinkletoes who closes his eyes.
"Feel better?"  Mural Man continues.
"No.  I still know it's your butt talking."
Dobby looks at Diomedes and Bugsy to no avail.
"Maybe if you think about this as a sign?"
Tinkletoes glares at Dobby.
"It's going to be all right in the end?"  Dobby suggests.
"It always works for me."  House adds. "Grrrr..."
"Let's just end this right here."
"As long as it's the butt end."  House says.
Tinkletoes runs a hand down the length of his face.  "A talking butt, I'm never going to unsee this."
"But..." 

A Writer With No Post

                                                   

A writer without a post.

She can't help the characters that need her the most.

She will not give up.

She refuses to despair!

What will she do tomorrow if she wakes up without any hair?

The story has not ended.

Neither will her struggle.

She looks up from her writing and says, “Pour me another bartender, and this time make it a double.”

Dobby turns and faces Writer Lady holding up a bottle, he turns his paw down to pour.

With one smooth, fluid movement a single drop of milk plops into her glass.

Writer Lady looks up from her pad of paper “What's happened? Only another shot is going to save my a**.”

The bartender gestures with a nod to a table at the back of the ice cream shoppe.

There in the darkest corner two kittens are drinking like sots.

The pair raise their heads from their milk bowls slowly, tongues sticking out, eyes drooping.

“In a magical ice cream shoppe?" Writer Lady asks. "That makes an odd grouping.”

“I always know when those two are here.” Dobby says. “That's what we call 'milk faced'”.

"Milk Faced?"  Writer Lady repeats.  "What a waste."

"They think it makes them look like studs."

 Smudge closes his eyes. Spots isn't far behind.

 The pair are really close buds.

Dobby says, “Since they've passed out let me go for more. From my secret stash. It's in the back. I don't even have to go to the store.”

Writer Lady looks across the shoppe at the kittens, a gentle smile crosses her face. If you know her you aren't surprised, she always has such grace.

“I'm in a tough spot. A deadline has come and gone. A post has yet to be written. I am determined to maintain the status quo and not pass out in my milk like a drunken kitten.” Writer Lady drinks the remaining sweet, creamy drop of comforting cheer. She pays her tab, “I think I may be turning a corner with this. But thanks, you've been a dear.”

The ginger tabby nods and Writer Lady leaves.

Carrying her notebook, tenacity, and imagination home through the gentle summer breeze.

**Take a moment and comment.  Let me know how many times you facepalmed while reading this.  It will give me a smile.  Have a nice day.**