Do you know what the difference between a fairy tale and a Fenfic is?
A fairy tale starts with "Once upon a time"...
Fenfic, on the other hand invariably start with "No $h*t, There I was..."
Well, no $h*t, there I was, bellied up to the bar in the "Rock Bottom", staring at my drink and trying like HELL to keep from doing what I really
wanted, which was to throw a total screaming, furniture launching destructive as all hell temper tantrum. Which would have only made things worse, seeing as
how I'd just come from the CA's office. Usually Larry is an Okay type, for a surly Belter admin. This time... Well... Lets just say that once AGAIN I
was persona non gratis in Ceres for a while. In fact, I was to catch the next ship going ANYWHERE. As ways to get run out of town on a rail, at least it beats
torches and pitchforks, I guess. The Professor may think they contribute 'atmosphere'... Not me. Not anymore, that's for sure.
That is when the hand on my shoulder drug me out of the festering pit of my self loathing. Not off the bar stool, which at least meant I wouldn't be adding
physical anguish to match my mental state. Or, at least not immediately, anyway. My eyes tracked up from the promised amber numbness of my drink, to the mirror
you seem to find behind the bar in every drinking establishment out here... Well, every place except Callahan's, anyway. And kept tracking up...
"Hello, Rocco. Last I knew I was square with the Don until the end of the week..."
"You are. The Don, he's in town and requests your company for lunch."
"Wonderful. Peachy, bordering on Kean even." No good can come of this, of course, but whatever does at least wont be physically painful. Swallowing
the last shot of Bushmills I can expect for who knows how long, I lever myself up off the stool before Rocco feels the need to 'help' me lest I
disrespect Don Anthony by keeping him waiting. "Lead on, McDuff, and cursed be he who first calls: Hold, Enough!"
""Blah. What is it with you and those Ren-Fen, Murphy?"
Well, the first to cry hold enough turned out, surprise surprise, to be me; just as soon as I caught sight of where it was the Don had chosen to dine.
"Oh no. NO! Not there, Rocco, please, not there..."
"Yes, there, Murph. I thought you liked Tony's?"
"Its not that... Tony ping'd me. You WANT me to disrespect the Don by winding up in a fight?"
"You wanna disrepect the Don by NOT accepting his invitation?"
Hobson's choice then; nothing for it but to hide the fact that my stomach was retreating sunward at 0.99999~ c. If that wasnt bad enough, another
realization crested over me, causing my heart to do a Limit Break. "Rocco, what did the Don order?"
"He hadn't when I left, Murph; but there is only one thing Tony's is really known for."
Oh carp.
You haven't heard of Tony's? Well, I assume that's going to change as word gets out. Well, its like this. Tony is DisFen; so when he setup his
place on Ceres he'd already had his heart set on the decor. You walk in, and its like stepping in to one of the Mousetro's Animated features. I
don't really have to spell out which one, do I? I do? Well, the inside is painted with frescos to look like its OUTSIDE, in a pleasant little Americana
town of around the 1800's , complete with a red and white striped awning to complete the illusion of a sidewalk café. Tony also has a pair of dogs, a
Wirehaired Terrier and a Cocker Spaniel; no one knows if they're real or not, and Tony isn't saying. Get it yet? Ah, good I see that you do. Yeah, I
know they weren't Tony's dogs in the source, but if it doesn't bother him I guess it shouldn't bother us.
Don Antonio was seated at Tony's best table. Eating Spaghetti. He also still looked just like himself, which meant... Nothing, to be honest. For all the
visible extreme Biomods out there, its a sure bet there are at least a half dozen that only their doctor knows for sure. On second look, the spaghetti also
LOOKED perfectly normal. Whew. I guess Tony got himself a replacement pasta maker then. Not like he's going to forgive me any time soon, he LOVED the old
one. Said it had character to it when he brought it to me for a clean and adjust. I suppose now you could say it has CHARACTER in all uppercase now. And its
all my fault, of course. Like just about everyone in 'space I tend to keep a bit of 'wavium on hand, for the occasional time when someone comes in and
needs something waved. Normally I just trade em for it, because it doesn't like me all that much, but sometimes someone wants something simple, like
lubricating their pistol with a bit of black to space-proof it, and that not usually even I can screw up. I didn't think much about that at the time,
because Tony didn't want the pasta maker waved, he just wanted it cleaned up and adjusted. It was late, I was tired, but Tony needed it back the next day.
Well, lets put it like this. I fell asleep, and was woken up by emergency services overriding the door and the entire compartment filled with robin egg blue
pasta. 'WAVED robin egg blue pasta... The damn stuff even got into the air system. Which lead to Larry giving me the ol heave ho. Again.
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to split the sky?
That's every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry-
NO QUARTER!!!
-- "No Quarter", by Echo's Children
A fairy tale starts with "Once upon a time"...
Fenfic, on the other hand invariably start with "No $h*t, There I was..."
Well, no $h*t, there I was, bellied up to the bar in the "Rock Bottom", staring at my drink and trying like HELL to keep from doing what I really
wanted, which was to throw a total screaming, furniture launching destructive as all hell temper tantrum. Which would have only made things worse, seeing as
how I'd just come from the CA's office. Usually Larry is an Okay type, for a surly Belter admin. This time... Well... Lets just say that once AGAIN I
was persona non gratis in Ceres for a while. In fact, I was to catch the next ship going ANYWHERE. As ways to get run out of town on a rail, at least it beats
torches and pitchforks, I guess. The Professor may think they contribute 'atmosphere'... Not me. Not anymore, that's for sure.
That is when the hand on my shoulder drug me out of the festering pit of my self loathing. Not off the bar stool, which at least meant I wouldn't be adding
physical anguish to match my mental state. Or, at least not immediately, anyway. My eyes tracked up from the promised amber numbness of my drink, to the mirror
you seem to find behind the bar in every drinking establishment out here... Well, every place except Callahan's, anyway. And kept tracking up...
"Hello, Rocco. Last I knew I was square with the Don until the end of the week..."
"You are. The Don, he's in town and requests your company for lunch."
"Wonderful. Peachy, bordering on Kean even." No good can come of this, of course, but whatever does at least wont be physically painful. Swallowing
the last shot of Bushmills I can expect for who knows how long, I lever myself up off the stool before Rocco feels the need to 'help' me lest I
disrespect Don Anthony by keeping him waiting. "Lead on, McDuff, and cursed be he who first calls: Hold, Enough!"
""Blah. What is it with you and those Ren-Fen, Murphy?"
Well, the first to cry hold enough turned out, surprise surprise, to be me; just as soon as I caught sight of where it was the Don had chosen to dine.
"Oh no. NO! Not there, Rocco, please, not there..."
"Yes, there, Murph. I thought you liked Tony's?"
"Its not that... Tony ping'd me. You WANT me to disrespect the Don by winding up in a fight?"
"You wanna disrepect the Don by NOT accepting his invitation?"
Hobson's choice then; nothing for it but to hide the fact that my stomach was retreating sunward at 0.99999~ c. If that wasnt bad enough, another
realization crested over me, causing my heart to do a Limit Break. "Rocco, what did the Don order?"
"He hadn't when I left, Murph; but there is only one thing Tony's is really known for."
Oh carp.
You haven't heard of Tony's? Well, I assume that's going to change as word gets out. Well, its like this. Tony is DisFen; so when he setup his
place on Ceres he'd already had his heart set on the decor. You walk in, and its like stepping in to one of the Mousetro's Animated features. I
don't really have to spell out which one, do I? I do? Well, the inside is painted with frescos to look like its OUTSIDE, in a pleasant little Americana
town of around the 1800's , complete with a red and white striped awning to complete the illusion of a sidewalk café. Tony also has a pair of dogs, a
Wirehaired Terrier and a Cocker Spaniel; no one knows if they're real or not, and Tony isn't saying. Get it yet? Ah, good I see that you do. Yeah, I
know they weren't Tony's dogs in the source, but if it doesn't bother him I guess it shouldn't bother us.
Don Antonio was seated at Tony's best table. Eating Spaghetti. He also still looked just like himself, which meant... Nothing, to be honest. For all the
visible extreme Biomods out there, its a sure bet there are at least a half dozen that only their doctor knows for sure. On second look, the spaghetti also
LOOKED perfectly normal. Whew. I guess Tony got himself a replacement pasta maker then. Not like he's going to forgive me any time soon, he LOVED the old
one. Said it had character to it when he brought it to me for a clean and adjust. I suppose now you could say it has CHARACTER in all uppercase now. And its
all my fault, of course. Like just about everyone in 'space I tend to keep a bit of 'wavium on hand, for the occasional time when someone comes in and
needs something waved. Normally I just trade em for it, because it doesn't like me all that much, but sometimes someone wants something simple, like
lubricating their pistol with a bit of black to space-proof it, and that not usually even I can screw up. I didn't think much about that at the time,
because Tony didn't want the pasta maker waved, he just wanted it cleaned up and adjusted. It was late, I was tired, but Tony needed it back the next day.
Well, lets put it like this. I fell asleep, and was woken up by emergency services overriding the door and the entire compartment filled with robin egg blue
pasta. 'WAVED robin egg blue pasta... The damn stuff even got into the air system. Which lead to Larry giving me the ol heave ho. Again.
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to split the sky?
That's every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry-
NO QUARTER!!!
-- "No Quarter", by Echo's Children