Saskatoon, Saskatchewan
Canada
Monday, September 12, 2016
Chris still hated Mondays.
Not quite as much as he had in the late 1990s -- none of the full-fledged, berserker rage, ''must kill'' kind of hate he'd had for them in his youth (he'd mellowed somewhat in twenty years or so, after all) -- but even though he didn't have to make an 8:30 staff meeting any more, he still woke up on the day after Sunday expecting the worst.
He wasn't usually disappointed.
Still, this particular Monday hadn't been too bad, and he'd gotten through to dinnertime without too much in the way of a disaster. With work done, the odds of something going wrong went way down, and he could relax somewhat. His cooking repertoire had expanded somewhat over the past twenty years, but he still had his favorites. Pasta was one of them, and he had begun preparing a batch to celebrate getting through the start of another week.
When the black-haired girl erupted from the steaming pot, he was seized by a profound sense of "someone's screwing with me." That, and deja vu.
After all, he'd written this scene in 1998.
At least she didn't fall on top of him, scream, and hammer him into unconsciousness.
But what she did next was almost as disturbing. As he backed off warily, she slowly touched down onto the floor in front of the range, then bowed to him. "Christopher Angel," Skuld said -- and he could almost hear the unspoken "nii-chan!" behind his name -- "Heaven has need of you."
A tribute to my one-time collaborator (on DW-5) Chris Angel and his self-insert works. He hasn't been on the forums (as "jpub") in well over four years, and was never an actual part of this project, so think of this as a "might have been" rather than a "might yet be".
Canada
Monday, September 12, 2016
Chris still hated Mondays.
Not quite as much as he had in the late 1990s -- none of the full-fledged, berserker rage, ''must kill'' kind of hate he'd had for them in his youth (he'd mellowed somewhat in twenty years or so, after all) -- but even though he didn't have to make an 8:30 staff meeting any more, he still woke up on the day after Sunday expecting the worst.
He wasn't usually disappointed.
Still, this particular Monday hadn't been too bad, and he'd gotten through to dinnertime without too much in the way of a disaster. With work done, the odds of something going wrong went way down, and he could relax somewhat. His cooking repertoire had expanded somewhat over the past twenty years, but he still had his favorites. Pasta was one of them, and he had begun preparing a batch to celebrate getting through the start of another week.
When the black-haired girl erupted from the steaming pot, he was seized by a profound sense of "someone's screwing with me." That, and deja vu.
After all, he'd written this scene in 1998.
At least she didn't fall on top of him, scream, and hammer him into unconsciousness.
But what she did next was almost as disturbing. As he backed off warily, she slowly touched down onto the floor in front of the range, then bowed to him. "Christopher Angel," Skuld said -- and he could almost hear the unspoken "nii-chan!" behind his name -- "Heaven has need of you."
A tribute to my one-time collaborator (on DW-5) Chris Angel and his self-insert works. He hasn't been on the forums (as "jpub") in well over four years, and was never an actual part of this project, so think of this as a "might have been" rather than a "might yet be".
-- Bob
I have been Roland, Beowulf, Achilles, Gilgamesh, Clark Kent, Mary Sue, DJ Croft, Skysaber. I have been
called a hundred names and will be called a thousand more before the sun grows dim and cold....
I have been Roland, Beowulf, Achilles, Gilgamesh, Clark Kent, Mary Sue, DJ Croft, Skysaber. I have been
called a hundred names and will be called a thousand more before the sun grows dim and cold....