[A high pitched beep suddenly sounds over the darkness and
a line vibrates across.]
Voice: Do not adjust you monitor.
[The line vibrates with the Voice and begins to move in different
directions.]
Voice: We are in control. We control the vertical.
[The line moves vertically.]
Voice: We control the horizontal.
[The line moves horizontally.]
Voice: We control the, um, control the hyperbole.
[The line moves to a parabola.]
Voice: <murmuring> No, you dimwit, hyperbola.
[The line goes in all directions without regard for your pained eyes.]
Voice2: Sorry, sur, baht I daun't know w'at a hi-per-bowl-ie is sur.
[The screen flashes an image of a short, stocky man with a goatee
sitting beside a microphone and a lil' white bat at a panel.]
Bastion: Darn it, Bartok, I thought you said you could do that.
Bartok: Wuhll sur, I wahsn't expecking you to start with the geometry
lesson, sur.
Bastion: <slaps forehead> Argh. Let's get this MST on the road, eh?
Bartok: Wuhll sur, I hope you don't pop a blood vessile or someting like
t'at, but tah 'Powers that be' sur, sent some people to help you.
Bastion: <raises eyebrow> Who?
[A tall lanky young man wearing clothing that hasn't see water since
June and an older man entirely colorless except for black and white
variations join the group]
Jessy: Whoah, hey, this is so like majorly cool.
Jimmy: Why, hello there sonny. I hope this 'anime' stuff is as naughty
as I hear.
Bastion: Uhhhhhhhh, <turns to Bartok> I'm gonna to make some calls after
this is through.
*******************************************************
Here it is...
.If you want to C&C, please consider doing it on the list -- good public
C&C is so hard to find these days, and I need the exposure. ^_^;;
[Bastion: Is that an MST I hear?
Jimmy: Uh, sorry there, I think that was me.
Jessy: Does he mean like indecent exposure? Because I wouldn't recommend
anyone get that, because one time I-
Bastion: Ahem, Jes, another time.]
Thanks,
--Matt Johnston
[Bartok: And 'eres a big ole sloppy welcome back to yoo sur.]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Feel free to go to http://gladstone.uoregon.edu/~matt2518/
There, you'll find episodes of this and my other fanfic series,
the well-received "Boku No Marie: Music-Box Angel".
[Jimmy: Book-u No Marry? <aghast> Why that's crazy talk, you're
talkin' crazy there sonny!
Bastion: Calm done Jimmy, it's fancy otaku talk.
Jimmy: Now you're talkin crazy! It must be infectious!]
"You need to get in touch with your muse. Do you know how
to do that?" Mr. Motojima cleaned his glasses.
"No sir."
"Here's what I do. Write something about your dream girl.
Your perfect companion. It doesn't have to be a good
paragraph, just something to get you started. Then, fold
the paper, put it under your pillow, and take a nap."
[Bastion: I don't about ya'll but I won't be takin' a nap.
Bartok: <face sours> I tell yoo w'at sur, yuck, I mean dabble
yuck.]
"A nap, sir?"
"Yes. A good hour or so. Really sleep it off." He smiled
kindly, the wrinkles around his eyes nearly pinching them
shut. "When you wake up, you'll be inspired again."
[Jessy: Whoah! I think I'm feelin' inspired right now. I feel like all tingly
and stuff.
Bastion: No, Jes, I think that's the fleas.
Jessy: <pause> Oh, <smiles> oh yeah, that's right. Thanks Bast my man!]
Kenji Terada had writer's block. When his teacher offered him a
solution, he tried it immediately. Only, his teacher never told
him what really happens when you wake up...
------------------------------------------------------------------
* * * *
I T ' S A R A I N Y D A Y
S U N S H I N E G I R L
Episode 01
"...It Happened Today"
* *
"It's A Rainy Day, Sunshine Girl" (c) 1999 Matthew Johnston.
All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters
to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
[Bastion: These characters are all a work of fiction, if any of them
resemble any persons, living-
Jessy: Whoah.
Bastion: Or dead.
Jimmy: Why hello there sonny.
Bastion: Is a complete and utter coincidence. No really.
Bartok: Sur, yoor lyin' through yoor teeth sur.]
* * * *
------------------------------------------------------------------
Monday, April 19th
3:23 PM
"Kenji Terada." Mr. Motojima held the graded paper with a
casual antagonism. Kenji knew it wasn't his best work, but he
didn't think it was that bad. He took hold of the paper with the
same anxiety he had when he had given it to his teacher.
"Thank you, sir." The words came before his eyes reached the
large red mark, but after Mr. Motojima had already moved to the
next student's desk. The buzz of conversations and scribbling of
pencils faded into obscurity. The whole of the classroom seemed
to implode into blackness, leaving only the glowing red words:
[Bastion: Red rum. Red rum.
Bartok: Yoo will become the next princess of Russia.]
Please See Me.
Kenji flinched. He was in high school, and a junior no less.
Only grade-schoolers and delinquents got a 'Please See Me'. He
wanted to scream; his hands were already shaking, ready to ball
into defiant fists of rage. But he held himself back a moment to
collect ammo for his defense.
[Bastion: <takes shotgun that materializes from.... somewhere>
*Click* Where are you Moty, Moty, Moty....
Jessy: Oh, don't worry Kenny-G, I always got those 'Please See Me'
all the time on all my work. And hey, look at me now, I didn't turn out
so bad. Whoah!]
"This isn't a bad story," he muttered as he began reading his
work. "Maybe a little forced here and there, but..." He stared
at his words, and the anger dissipated quickly, only to be
replaced with disappointment. Looking again at the three red
words, he shook his head in reluctant defeat.
"I guess the truth isn't kind," he grumbled.
[Bastion: The truth is out there.
Bartok: Where sur?
Jimmy: Huh? Where's what?
Jessy: Whoah.
Bartok: The truth.
Jimmy: What about it?
Bastion: North by northwest.
Jessy: Whoah.
Bartok: If you will excuse me sur, I thought it was closer south.
Jimmy: I knew a Truman once.
Jessy: Whoah.
Dole: Liberal.
<pause>
Bastion: What the......]
"Hey, Kenji," Ichiro snickered from behind. Kenji again
shook his head and blinked forcefully.
"Still, I can't believe it."
"Can't believe what?"
"Huh? Sorry, what were you saying?"
[Jimmy: What?
Bartok: What was t'at sur?
Bastion: Huh?
Jessy: Whoah.
Bastion: Will you shut up?
Kenji: Oh I'm sorry if I disturbed your MST. I think I'm going to room
now and cry.
Bastion: No, no, no. I was talking to the Joey Lawerence wannabe hobo
friend here.
Kenji: Oh, my bad.]
"Actually, you were saying. You can't believe what?"
"Nothing." Kenji took an objective look at his friend. The
face-wide grin showed most of his teeth, and was too deliberate to
be ignored.
[Bartok: Oh my goodness sur, he's goin' eat him! W'at horrar sur!
Cannonballism, sur, in just the furst three paraguayaphs!
Jessy: Hey that's pretty narly right there. I'm jiggy with that.
Bastion: Ey, Jes, enough with the pop cultural refs.]
"Why are you grinning like that?"
"Oh, just happy, I guess."
[Jimmy: Be careful sonny, I had Charleton Heston say that to me
once and man, I'll never watch Ben-Hur again the same way.
Bartok: Sur, I must say, yuck, dabble yuck, and trapple yuck to yoo
sur.]
Kenji played along, though less enthusiastically than on
other days. "And why are you happy today?"
"You know, it's a funny thing, that. Happiness can take so
many forms."
"Really? Which form did it take this time?"
Ichiro looked like he was about to explode, but announced his
source of happiness with little concern. "I got an eighty." The
grin somehow widened, despite his indifferent tone. "I guess Mr.
Motojima really does like Star Wars after all."
[Batrok: W'at a menace, sur.
Bastion: Eh, struck me more like a phantom than a menace.
Jimmy: Sonny, I have to be honest with you, but what the heck
was that all about.
Jessy: Jeez, my man, you'd have to been living in a cave or dead
if you don't know what they're talkin about.
<The others stare>
Jessy: Whoah.]
He tried to peek
at Kenji's paper, but the boy yanked it from his view.
"Oh, c'mon," he coaxed. "I know you did better than me
anyways. Why all the forced humility?" Ichiro punched Kenji in
the shoulder playfully. Not that he could have really hurt Kenji
with a deliberate blow. Ichiro liked to think he was a Star Wars
hero, a real Han Solo type. But in reality, he was more like C-
3PO.
[Bastion: I don't know, he seems like the R2D2 type.
Bartok: More like an Ewok sur.
Jimmy: I'd say Joan Crawford.
Jessy: Matt Penfeild hands down.]
"An eighty, huh? That's pretty impressive." Kenji returned
the grin, keeping the paper well out of Ichiro's view. "Really
impressive for a computer guy." He chuckled, a high-pitched
cackle of nervousness. Ichiro raised an eyebrow. "But, you know,
writers like me don't really care whether one critic likes a story
or not."
"What did you get?"
"As long as it reaches its audience, that's all that counts."
"What did you get?"
"I think that, in time, this story will be looked upon
favorably."
"That bad, huh?"
[Bastion: Heh. I can sympathize.
Bill: I really do. I can feel your pain, right here. All the way to the
bottom of my-
Bastion: Uh thanks Bill, now I'd do this thing called moving on....]
Kenji shook his head, wondering if he could will the sweat
from his brow. "Bad? Bad? Oh, come on, Ichiro. I'm going to be
a writer. It's what I do."
Ichiro crossed his arms over his chest.
"He got a 'Please See Me'!" A voice chimed from Kenji's
left. He turned in horror to see that he had kept his paper from
Ichiro, only to put it in direct sight of the remainder of the
class.
"Kenji got a 'Please See Me'?" The class gasped in unison,
and immediately set into a blaze of wild chatter, involving
failure and burning out and careers dead before they started.
Kenji crumpled over his desk as a dozen sighs of pity chorused
around him, spreading from the depths of the back all the way to
the front.
[Bastion: Dear god no!
Bartok: The horrar! The horrar sur!
Jessy: Narly.
Dole: Liberal.
Jimmy: Where did this old foguie come from?]
"Now, now class..." Mr. Motojima began, but did not finish
his sentence. "Tanako Yamada?"
"Yes?" The voice was angelic.
[Bastion: My, it was angelic.
Bartok: W'at was angelic?
Bastion: The voice?
Jimmy: It was?
Bastion: It sure was.
Jessy: That was totally like touching me all the way.
Bastion: It was?
Jessy: Yeah, it sure was.
Bartok: Sur, w'ats with all the wasing and stuff?
Bastion: <whistling innocently> No particular reason.....
<evil grin> (sorry Matt)]
A few weeks ago, Kenji might
have been able to conjure more evocative words to describe the
notes Tanako emitted in even the simplest of words. Hearing her
speak was the only gift he received in class.
[Bastion: What no cookies?]
"Your paper."
A small gasp of delight accompanied the rustle of paper in
her hands. Kenji had focused in on her sounds, stripping the
noise of the class once again, until he heard only her movements.
He could almost see her shifting in her seat, beaming as she
prepared to announce her perfect grade to Yumiko. Everything even
remotely associated with her seemed perfect.
"I got an eighty-five!" The perfect voice.
"Congratulations!" The perfect best friend.
"Do you think I should tell Masao?" The perfect boy to have
a crush on.
[Bastion: <shakes head> Perfect.]
"Why can't I be her crush?" Kenji lifted his head long
enough to mouth the words to the ceiling, then let his head fall
as Ichiro sang near his right ear:
"I did better than Kenji. I did better than Kenji."
"Ichiro?"
"Yeah, buddy?"
"I'm your best friend, right?"
"Yep."
"This is a well-established fact, correct?"
"Correct."
"Then, why are you reveling in my failure?"
Kenji paused to inhale. "Because, my down-trodden companion,
my superior mental acumen has finally won the day. With your
literary demise, I can now seize the power I've always wished to
hold, but never thought possible before. You see, your failure
and my subsequent success has taught me that, well, miracles can
happen, and they can happen to me."
[Jimmy: Ever try ringing a bell, sonny?
Bastion: Uh, no. I don't think angels can help in the world domination
category.
Bartok: Yes dey do sur. <points down below>
Bastion: Oh yeah.]
"How long did it take you to come up with that?"
"About a week, why?"
"No reason. So, miracles can happen, eh?" Kenji wished for
one harder than anything he had wished for that week. "Like you
keeping quiet for a change?"
"Stranger things have happened," Ichiro smirked, and fell
into a comfortable silence as the class filed chaotically from the
room.
[Bastion: <imitating Ichiro> It's not everyday you get featured in a fanfic by
an exhuberant author suffering from writer's block.]
"Kenji?" Again, the crystal notes of Tanako's voice lifted
Kenji's head.
"Yeah?"
"Don't worry about the note. Mr. Motojima probably just
wants to take more time with the serious writer here."
[Bastion: Hey, as long as no 'favors' are involved, I'm cool.
Jessy: Narly. <Bastion looks at him questionably> Wha, I
haven't said anything for the past like few times.
Bastion: And let's keep it that way.]
Kenji wanted to agree verbally, but all he could manage was a
crooked smile and a stiff nod. The smile remained well after
Tanako had left.
"Don't get a big head," Ichiro muttered as he stood. He
walked to the door after a stretch and waved his paper
triumphantly. "Eighty percent, baby," he snickered, hitting the
paper with his free hand. "Read it and weep."
[Bartok: I'll tell yooo w'at sur, t'ats w'at friends are four.
Bastion: Can I have an Amen from the congregation!
Dole: Liberal.
Jessy: Whoah.]
* * * *
Kenji remained in the classroom for a number of silent
minutes, shuffling his things into and out of his backpack. He
arranged his pencils, and, after they were sorted for length and
relative hardness,
[<Bastion opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, pauses, and
finally closes it>
Bastion: Forget, I'm not even going to start....]
he sorted them again for eraser length. All
the while, Mr. Motojima seemed to do the same at his desk, though
he seemed much less nervous than his student.
Finally, and without warning, the teacher spoke. His voice
was like gravel pouring into Kenji's head, but it was almost as
comforting as Tanako's bell-voice.
[<Small pebbles begin to drop onto Bastion's head>
Bartok: <off screen> Is it <dink> woorking <dink> sur?
Bastion: <pondering as more pebbles fall on his head> Nope.
<dink> Not a thing. <dink> You <dink, dink> can stop <dink, dink>
pouring the gravel <dink, dink, dink, dink> on my head.
<Suddenly a stream of pebbles unload onto Bastion's head>
Bartok: <floating in> Oops. Sorry about dat sur.
<Bastion broods and glares at the little white bat>
Bartok: <backing away> I think sur, I'll shood return this
bucket to its owner which is far, far away from 'ere.
<Bastion slowly stands, his hands clenched>
Bartok: Uh, good-bye sur! Eeek! <flies off with Bastion in
close pursuit>
Bastion: BARTOK! GET BACK HERE! ]
"It seems like you have writer's block," the old man
announced from his desk. Kenji stood immediately with a protest
ready, but the teacher shook his head. "I'm not here to admonish
you, Kenji. Have a seat."
Kenji returned to his desk.
"Now, I've been told in the past that I'm a rather
progressive teacher."
"Yessir."
"Not too many classes spend time writing creatively on
European classics."
"No sir."
"But I'm not a pushover."
"No sir."
"That paper is worth a seventy percent. No more, no less."
"Yessir."
"But, I know where your problems are coming from. I've had
writer's block before. I know it's frustrating, especially if
you're a budding author." Mr. Motojima arranged some papers on
his desk and pushed them into his attache case.
"Yessir."
"You need to get in touch with your muse. Do you know how to
do that?"
"No sir."
[Bastion: Ya know, it seems kinda gratutious to have him doing that.
Bartok: Ya sur.
Bastion: But that probably establishes Kenji's nervousness and so getting
rid of it would a bad idea.
Bartok: No sur.
Bastion: On the other hand, I know Matt's no pushover when it comes
to dialog
Bartok: No sur
Bastion: So there's no real need to talk about this further.
<pause>
Bastion: Well?
Bartok: W'at sur? I agree with yoo, w'at else did yoo want me to say, sur?
Bastion: Forget it.]
"Here's what I do. Write a paragraph."
"A paragraph about what?"
"Anything. Try writing about your perfect companion. Your
dream girl. It doesn't have to be a good paragraph, just
something to get you started. Write about how she looks, what she
sounds like, feels like, smells like..."
[Bastion: <sniff> Uh, I don't know. The stink right now inhibiting my
imagination slightly.
Jessy: Narly.
Dole: Liberal.
Jessy: <looking at Dole> Narly?
Dole: <looking back> Liberal?
Jessy:<smiling> Narly.
Dole: <uneasy> Liberal?
Jessy: <patts Dole on the shoulder> Narly!
Dole: <forced smile and holding his breath> Liberal!
Jessy: <looking at audience and gives the thumbs, a Mintos in his
hands> Narly!]
The old man paused to
clean his tiny wire framed glasses. Kenji cringed, preparing for
words he never thought his literature teacher would say.
Mr. Motojima grinned. "Et cetera."
The student exhaled with relief.
"Then, fold the piece of paper, put it under your pillow, and
take a nap."
"A nap, sir?"
"Yes. A good hour or two. Really sleep it off." He smiled
kindly, the wrinkles around his eyes nearly pinching them shut.
"When you wake up, she'll be there, and you'll be inspired."
"Really?"
"Of course. It worked for me thirty years ago. Things don't
change much with inspiration, son. It's all pretty much
universal."
[Jimmy: Did you know I have had many muses in my lifetime.
Does Audren Hepburn count?
Bastion: Uhhhhhh, no.]
"I see." Kenji got up, but a question nagged him. "Do I
give her a name?"
"What?"
Kenji flushed. "Do I name my dream girl?"
"No. She'll tell you her name." He winked; it was almost
imperceptible. "Give it a try tonight, okay?"
"Yessir."
Kenji walked home alone, silently considering his teacher's
words. When he finally arrived, he ran straight upstairs and sat
at his desk. Taking out a piece of paper, he wrote his paragraph,
being careful not to put down Tanako's name.
[Bastion: <imitating Kenji words on the paper> She was a sweet, innocent
girl, her hair the scent of afresh pine forest. She offered me a flower.
I took and responded, "Tanako." <crumpling paper> Damn it! <throws wadded
ball amongst the large pile beside him> Let's try that again...]
When he finished, he felt exhausted. The paragraph had
stretched into two, and then three, taking up both sides of his
sheet of notebook paper. When he read it over, it sounded
horribly trite. He wanted to rip it up, but instead, he folded
it, and placed it under his pillow.
"Good night," he mumbled to the folded words.
Sleep came surprisingly easy. A dream followed soon after,
though by then, Kenji's slumbering brain had shed the concept of
time.
[Bastion: Ooo, I'm feelin a lil' queazy.
Bartok: Me too sur.
Jimmy: Count me in too. I'm feelin' a little under the weather.
Bastion: It must be a dream sequence! Prepare for the wavy lines
across the screen! <Everyone holds onto something>
Jessy: <stumbles on screen> Hey, this feels pretty good. This stuff
is waaay better than that guy said.]
Fog dominated his view, obscuring the trees, muffling the
birds and crickets. It stuck to his skin like it was trying to
possess him. He shivered, and walked inexplicably forward; he
knew only that something was ahead.
"Don't be afraid," the voice ahead whispered. Even through
meters of fog, the silhouette appearing before him sounded as
clear as someone only a step away. "Tell the fog to lift, and it
will."
"What?" Kenji shook his head. "What are you talking about?"
"Tell the fog to lift." The voice was young, yet peaceful
and mature.
"I don't think that I--"
"Tell the fog to lift." The voice was still young, but now
neither peaceful nor mature.
"But--"
"It won't work if you don't tell it, okay?" The voice had
fallen to an exasperated growl.
Kenji took a step back in shock. "Umm, okay."
The voice recovered some of its composure. "Now, tell it to
lift."
Kenji rolled his eyes. "Lift," he mumbled at the fog. A
sliver of daylight appeared on his shoes.
"Say it again," the voice coaxed.
"Lift," he attempted. The fog responded in kind with his
increased intensity, rising to his knees.
"Once more," the voice sang, "and you'll be free."
"Lift!" Kenji pushed his arms above his head dramatically.
The fog lifted. The scene around him faded from a somber
gray into a vista more intense than any he had seen before. Trees
bloomed, instantly shedding their petaled blossoms.
[Bastion: Glad you got that new graphics program eh?]
They floated
effortlessly across his view, sparkling blues around pink and
white edges. The sky was eternally blue, and one glance seemed to
invite infinite pondering. Mountains stood like sonnets, orderly,
yet somehow unique and chaotic within themselves. Kenji wanted
desperately to write.
[Bastion: Eternally blue?
Bartok: In-fine-nit pondering?
Jimmy: Mountains like sonnets. More crazy talk, I tell ya, crazy!
Jessy: <talking the smoking pipe from his mouth> It is quite obvious that
the author is trying to communicate a type of attitude towards his view of
the world in which things do not appear as they should and he not only
can see them, but feel them-
Bastion: What the hell?
Bartok: It must be the dream sequence mania, sur!
Jimmy: Dear God no! Uh, what is it, sonny?
Bastion: Since we are technically in a surreal environment, Jessy
has shifted out of character. Sorta like a poorly written Ranma
story.
Jimmy: Ranma? Is that more of your crazy talk son?
Bastion: <sigh>]
And then he saw the girl.
Kenji had assumed he would be looking at Tanako. He was
almost right. She looked a little like her, only her hair was
red, short, wavy, and she was a little shorter. And her skin was
a little darker. And her voice wasn't as melodic.
Kenji realized that the girl actually looked nothing like
Tanako, and felt suddenly disappointed. They were standing
farther apart than he had thought, which kept some of the smaller
features from his eyes. But even when he squinted to purposefully
blur his view, she still looked nothing like the vision of his
perfect companion.
"Maybe I should have written her name."
The girl treaded the mossy ground softly, confidently. She
held out her hand and spoke quietly, "You're free now."
[Bastion: <imitating Kenji as he takes her hand> Tanako. <muttering>
Damn it! <louder> Let's try that again....]
There was something about her that tugged gently at the
nerves in Kenji's stomach. He took a tentative step forward, and
instinctively reached for her.
The girl's next step was actually a stumble, as she tripped
over a tree root. When she hit the ground, the dreamscape melted.
[Bastion: <imitating muse> D'oh!]
Kenji blinked awake. He felt warm, numb, like he was still
wearing the cloak of an old lucid vision. He lay there for a
moment considering the dream, and wondering if he really saw his
muse take a tumble at the end.
From behind him, a tiny waking sigh alerted him that his
cloak was more lucid than dream. A petite arm lifted itself from
his shoulders briefly entering his wide-eyed view, disappearing
behind him.
Movement became suddenly difficult for Kenji, but he managed
to wiggle himself off the bed, and successfully fell face-first to
the carpeted floor. As he spat out bits of lint, he peeked up
over the edge of the bed.
"Good morning," she whispered.
She lay there, half-asleep, her eyes glittering as she opened
them. Her mouth curled perfectly into a smile, and she lifted her
petite arm again to brush her disheveled red hair from her
forehead.
[Jessy: Man, if I had a dollar for everytime that happened to me.
Bastion: You'd still be poor.
Jessy: Well yeah, but a dollar would be narly.
Jimmy: You ever see Elizabeth Taylor in the morning? Trust me, its
in-ex-CUS-a-bull!]
"You're... oh boy." Kenji gulped for air and sane recourse.
"You're..."
"Caravan."
"Yeah, you're... huh?"
"That's my name. Caravan." She sat up and stretched. Kenji
turned before his eye completely filled with the view.
[Bastion: Okay, Caravan. Cool. But if I see her brother Assembly, and
her parents Crowd and Nomad, I'm outta here.]
"Why are you looking away?" She looked down, and for a
moment seemed confused. "Oh," she chuckled as she covered herself
with his sheet. "Okay, you can look now."
Kenji peeked through parted fingers; she was blushing. "As I
was saying," she continued. "I'm Caravan."
"I got that part," Kenji muttered.
"What did you say?" Her smile deteriorated quickly. Kenji
gazed at his carpet. "No wonder you're uninspired all the time."
[Bastion: <imitating Caravan> I mean look at all the carpet you're licking!
Bartok: Uh, sur, must I say it again, yuck, yuck, yuck!]
"Sorry."
"You cynic."
"I said I was sorry!"
"Did you mean it?" Caravan's gaze muttered quiet skepticism.
"Yes." Kenji's voice softened. "Really, I mean it. I'm...
I apologize."
"Well, then." She shifted to the edge of the bed, letting
her feet dangle next to Kenji's head. "Apology accepted. Now,
let me introduce myself properly. I'm..." She looked at Kenji,
who managed to keep from rolling his eyes. "...I'm your muse."
* * * *
The curtains rustled as a light spring wind blew in through
the west-facing windows. For a long minute, that was the only
sound either person in the room heard. Kenji hadn't expected
Caravan's words to be quite so powerful as they were. It wasn't
like he didn't know she was going to say them. But, as the
silence continued and Kenji thought more, he realized that the
very act of saying the words must have something more attached.
"Well?" Caravan sounded expectant.
"You're my muse?"
Caravan nodded with a smile.
"Really?"
Caravan nodded again, her smile growing a little wider.
"My muse?"
"Your muse.
[Bastion: Any muse, is a good muse.
<a cymbol clashes>
Jessy: Man this is so cool. <puts an arm behind his back and makes
more noises on the drum set> That guy from Def Lepoard has nothin'
on me!]
Your goddess of inspiration. The one who gave
you all those great ideas the one who--"
"--I'm hallucinating, then."
[Bastion: Nah, he ain't hallucinating. <points to Jessy> He's hullucinating.
Jessy: Heeeeyyyy, whoah.]
Caravan shook her head with the same smile. "Not at all."
She winked. "I'm very real."
"Then I've finally done it."
"Done what?"
"I've taken a dive off the deep end."
"Cliche."
"What?"
"You should avoid cliches like the plague," she recited
solemnly.
"Very funny," Kenji grumbled. "Well then, how's 'I've lost
my mind' sound?"
Caravan wrinkled her nose. "Blech. Too bland."
[Bastion: Welcome to C&C 101 with Matt Johnston everybody. <grin>]
Kenji stood up. "Well then, what would you suggest, your
great goddess of inspirationness?" He leaned on his desk and
crossed his arms. "I'm waiting."
"Let's see. You've lost your mind, eh?" She closed her
eyes, humming so softly, Kenji wasn't sure he really heard her.
When she opened her eyes, she suggested, "How about, 'Reality and
I are now at irreconcilable odds'?"
Kenji frowned. "Not bad. A little wordy, though."
"Okay then, how about this?" She thrashed wildly under the
sheets, and screeched, "My head! Oh, my head... Look at the
shapes! Aren't they beautiful? My brain!"
"Oh, get off it." Kenji tried to fight back a chuckle, but
failed.
Caravan emerged huffing from the sheets and flexed an arm
heroically. "That's what I'm here for."
"To correct my grammar?" Kenji offered.
[Bastion: Nope, that's my job.
Bartok: Uh, sur, what about us?
Bastion: You're my muses.
Jimmy: You really mean that boy?
Dole: Liberal?
Bastion: Sure, you all amuse me. <cymbol clashes> Jessy will
you get off those drums!]
"No, silly." The girl wrapped Kenji's sheet around her and
tried to stand. "To inspire you." She took a couple of cautious
steps, trying to keep her balance as she approached the closet.
"I see." Kenji watched her with bemusement. He considered
the situation aloud. "On one hand, I could be mad, and all this
is merely me projecting my demented wishes onto the real world."
The blue cotton sheet draped tantalizingly low around Caravan's
back, exposing it to the small. He grinned and shook his head.
"Or, I could be real, and you're just too cynical to realize
it." She yanked a tee-shirt and a pair of denim shorts from his
dresser.
"Could be."
Caravan tossed the clothes on the bed and smiled. "Could
be." She twirled her finger, motioning for Kenji to turn around.
Kenji complied, turning again to his desk. As she dressed, he
readied a sheet of paper.
"Okay, then," he challenged. "Inspire me."
"Sure thing. Do you have a belt?"
[Bastion: <imitating Kenji> Whoah, wait a sec! I don't know if I like
you methods of inspiration....]
"Hanging on the right side of the shirt rack."
"Thanks. How do you want to be inspired?"
"I don't know," Kenji munched on the end of his pencil. "I
just need a good idea. You know, something to get me started."
"Isn't that what the paragraph was for? You can look now."
"You know about the paragraph?" Kenji turned in his office
chair. Caravan was digging under his pillow. In his clothes, she
looked as much like a boy as a girl.
"Of course. I've been around since your first story,
remember? First grade, the two-page epic about the Antarctic
explorer?"
Kenji grinned bashfully. "Ah yes, the halcyon days of
youth."
[Jessy: Hey, I *love* halcyon!
Bastion: I do too, Orbital's rendition is so moving.
Jessy: Huh?]
"Nice phrase."
"Thanks. You were there the whole time?"
"Yep." She began reading the folded sheet.
"Then why do I have this writer's block?"
"Oh boy," she muttered. "You really do need my help."
"Yes," Kenji started. "Yes I do. But, why do I need your
help? Where were you a month ago? How about a week ago, when I
had to write that C-minus paper I got back today? Where were you
then?"
[Bastion: Yeah, where were you! You left me there all alone in a cold
and unforgiving world with no one to turn to and I had to do horrible, horrible
things to make the scars of our relationship heal-
Bartok: Uh, sur.
Bastion: And when I went to the doctor, he told me it was nothing, nothing
at all-
Jessy: Whoah dude.
Bastion: The next thing I knew I was in pain-
Jimmy: Sonny, get a hold of yourself!
Bastion: And now I must walk bolegged!
<pause>
Bartok: Sur, we aren't talking about the story anymore are we?]
Kenji's voice rose quickly, his fists balled. Before he
knew it, he was standing over Caravan, growling, ready to yell at
any answer she could give.
"I'm--"
"--Kenji! Dinner!"
"Coming, Mom!" Kenji turned towards the door. "You wait
here."
Caravan hung her head. "I'm sorry, Kenji."
The words halted Kenji at the door. He turned slowly, for
the sniffling sound he heard could mean only one thing. "Oh no."
She was crying.
"I wasn't there for you," she sobbed.
"Kenji!"
"Coming, Mom!" Kenji yelled anxiously out the door. He
turned hurriedly to the weeping girl sitting on his bed. "I'm...
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell like that. I just--"
"--I'm hungry," she managed. "Can I eat with you?"
"Umm..." Kenji looked to the door. His mother's footsteps
grew closer. "Sure. You're a friend from class, 'kay?"
[Bastion: -who just happens to wearing my clothes and has dishovelled
hair and somehow snuck into my room sometime during the night.
Innocent enough.]
Caravan nodded and stood. After she wiped the tears from her
cheeks, she seemed remarkably normal. Kenji took a deep breath as
his mother knocked on the door.
"Kenji?"
"Coming!"
"Okay. But hurry up, or the chicken will get cold." The
stairs creaked as his mother descended them again.
Kenji offered his hand. "My mom's a decent cook, if you like
spicy stuff."
"I love spicy stuff." She took his hand. It felt softer
than any he had held before. Almost immediately the boy shook the
stray thought from his mind.
"I haven't held Tanako's yet," he repeated under his breath.
He opened the door, letting her hand go as soon as he stepped into
the hallway.
"Tanako's what?" Caravan whispered as they descended the
stairs.
[Bastion: <imitating Kenji> Uhhhh, Thank you! <muttering> Damn it!
<smiling> Let's try that again....wait.]
"Never mind," Kenji muttered.
"And who's Tanako?"
"I said, never mind."
"Is she the subject of that... note of yours?" She frowned
at the thought of the note.
"I said, never mind!"
"Never mind what?" Kenji's mother called from the kitchen.
"Nothing, Mom." Kenji turned to his companion at the bottom
of the stairs. "Now, don't ask any strange questions, okay?"
The girl crossed her heart. "I wouldn't think of it."
"Oh, you've brought a friend to dinner!" Kenji's mother
sounded a little too pleased as Kenji and Caravan entered the
dining room. "I hope I made enough. He didn't tell me we'd be
having a guest."
[Bastion: <imitating Kenji> One-night stands, <shrug> Who knew?]
The girl smiled and nodded. "I hope it isn't too much
trouble," she half-whispered.
"It's never any trouble, dear." The middle-aged woman stood
and went to the kitchen. "Let me get another plate for you."
"How am I doing?" Caravan whispered.
Kenji nodded seriously. "Just don't say anything weird."
"I don't think Kenji's mentioned you much. What did you say
your name was?"
"Caravan."
"That's an... interesting name," Kenji's mother set a plain
white plate in front of the guest. "Where are you from?"
[Bastion: The deepest recesses of your son's mind.... scary ain't it?
Bartok: Actually no sur. I'm more scared of yoo sur.
Bastion: Damn straight.]
"She just moved in from Hokkaido. Her parents were hippies.
Too much LSD in the 60's.
[Dole: Liberals, liberals, liberals!]
That explains the name and all, right?
Right." Kenji answered in hurried staccato.
"Yes, I suppose it does," both women mused simultaneously.
Kenji's mother continued. "I spent a few summers in Hokkaido
before Kenji was born. It was beautiful--"
"Aww, Mom. Not the Hokkaido story again."
Caravan shot Kenji a withering look, but Kenji's mother
simply laughed. "It's true. He's heard it a number of times. I
always seem to tell it when he has company over."
[Bastion: Coincidence!?
Bartok: Uh, no sur. It isn't.
Bastion: Oh, good then.]
"Now you know why I never bring people over." Kenji's remark
earned him another look from Caravan.
"I guess I'm just trying to show off for my son. He thinks
it's embarrassing though. I don't blame him."
"Mrs. Terada, I'd love to hear the story."
"Why, thank you, dear. You're so kind to humor an old
woman."
[Jimmy: You know son, old people love to humored.
Bastion: And your point is?
Jessy: The old geazer wants you to make him laugh.
Bartok: I'll tell yooo w'at, sur, yoo are a real moron.
Bastion: Here have a cookie Bartok!
Bartok: Uh, Tanako sur.
Bastion: <muttering> Damn it!]
"Not at all," the girl grinned. "I like listening to
stories."
* * * *
"Your mother's quite a storyteller," Caravan noted cheerfully
once they were back in Kenji's room. "I can see where you get
your talent."
[Bastion: Kenji's mother has talent? <smirks> Heh, who knew.
Bartok: Uh, sur, let's stop with the inside jokes and all....]
"Thanks," the boy mumbled. "And thanks for not asking any
weird questions." He smiled honestly, but it faded quickly.
[Bastion: <imitating Caravan> I'm surprised your mother knew the air flight
speed of an African swallow.]
"I told you I wouldn't." She flopped on the bed and sighed.
"There's something wrong, isn't there?"
"Nothing's wrong. I'm just tired."
"Come on, Kenji. I know a little bit about you. Whatever
you've written, I've read it. Well, most of it, anyway. I did
skip that paragraph earlier today, but you can hardly blame--"
"--Stop it." The words were weaker than even he had
expected. "Please."
"Sorry." She rolled over and looked Kenji. He was hunched
over his desk, scribbling something down. "There's something
wrong, though."
Kenji sighed. "I'd never heard the story told like that
before." Kenji continued writing. "I guess I feel a little
guilty about yelling at her."
"But you're getting something out of it, right?"
She could hear Kenji smiling. "Yeah, I guess so. Not much,
but it's a start. Thanks."
"Like I said, that's why I'm here." She kicked her legs and
looked at his note again. "So, who is Tanako, anyway?"
"I thought you knew all about me."
"I only get to see you while you're writing." She snickered
as she skimmed the page. "Hoo boy, that's a doozy. Do you have a
red pen?"
"Nope, sorry. Here's a pencil." He tossed his pencil over
his shoulder; it landed eraser first on her back.
"Oww. Thanks."
Kenji grunted a reply and rummaged in his desk drawer for a
new pencil.
"You don't seem to write about her. Tanako, I mean."
Kenji raised his head from his work and paused. "I guess
not," he considered. "Not directly, anyway."
[Bastion: All the while, Kenji hopes Caravan doesn't discover his
booty of stories on alt.sex.stories....]
"I see. One of those 'everything I write is about her'
things, right?" Caravan giggled. "You're such a romantic."
"Whatever." Kenji hunched back over his desk. Caravan could
see his ears turning bright red, though.
"Are you always this surly when you're inspired?"
"Yes."
Caravan shook her head. "You weren't this surly when you got
the idea for 'The Case of the Crafty Cat'."
"That was in third grade."
"I always liked that one," she reminisced. "You wrote the
cat so... well, crafty."
"Yeah, well," Kenji sighed. "The Crafty Cat just isn't
enough anymore."
"I know." Caravan sat up on the edge of the bed. "You want
better than that, don't you?"
"Of course I do. I should want better than that. I am
better than that."
Caravan stood and wrapped her arms around Kenji. He could
feel her pressing against his back as she hugged him.
"Yes," she murmured. "Yes you are. You just need some help
every once in a while."
"Let me guess, you're the person to help me."
"Of course," she whispered into his right ear.
"You know," she continued, "what you're writing now is pretty
decent. You should keep going with it."
"Th... thanks." The boy smiled as his muse let go. They
each returned to their previous tasks, Kenji to his work, and
Caravan to watching from edge of the bed.
"I hope you aren't bored," he eventually apologized.
"Not at all," she smiled. "Not at all. I like watching you
write."
"Suit yourself."
[Bastion: Nothing to see here, move along.....]
"You know," Caravan added after a comfortable pause, "I can
help you. With Tanako, I mean."
Kenji stopped. "How?"
"I'm a muse. I give you an idea, and you implement it. It's
how this whole thing is supposed to work, you know."
"I can handle that." Kenji turned and faced her. She was
staring at the ceiling, absently twisting a lock of hair. "So,
what's your idea?"
"I don't know yet. But it'll come to me." She glanced at
him and smiled. "For now, just keep writing. You seem to be on a
roll."
"Yes, boss," Kenji hissed jovially. Caravan returned a
chuckle and turned her gaze back to the bare white ceiling.
"Our heart is open," she sang at the edge of his hearing,
"our reason to be here..."
Nearly an hour passed without words. Caravan hummed a
strange tune softly from the bed, and Kenji wrote. After ten or
twelve pages, and three or four pencils, everything fell silent
except for the scribbling and the crickets. Soon, even the
crickets grew taciturn.
Had Kenji not been so engrossed in his work, he would have
noticed the sharp inhaling sound and the flash of light behind
him. As it stood, he was lucky to even notice when his mother
entered the room and set a tray of milk and cookies down next to
him.
[Jessy: I'd love to munch on Kenny-G's mom's cookies!
Bastion: Jes..
Jessy: Yeah?
Bastion: <shoves a cookie into Jessy's mouth> Have a cookie!]
"Oh dear, " she commented with polite disappointment. "Your
friend has left."
"What?" Kenji whipped around. Indeed, Caravan was gone.
"She was such a nice girl," Kenji's mother commented.
"You'll have to invite her over again some time."
------------------------------------------------------------------
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Welcome to "It's A Rainy Day, Sunshine Girl". With luck, I'll be
posting this on a weekly schedule to the FFML and my own web page
(listed at the top of the post). If you read the story, please
send me a comment or two -- I live for feedback. And feel free to
publicly C&C on the FFML if you wish.
[Jimmy: Is this public enough for you sonny? Huh!?
Bastion: Whoa Jimmy calm down, remember your heart condition!
Bartok: I'll tell yooo w'at sur, I had an Uncle Johny once woo keeled
over on a comquiot.
Jessy: Whoah.
Bastion: Jes, shut up.]
The story's inspirations are a fairly obvious, but I think that
the combination is original enough. Plus, it's a blast to write,
and the first thing of quality I've written in two months.
[Bastion: Take Matt C&Cing and cross it with a cute anime female....<wink>]
Okay, enough of the chit-chat. On to the references:
The Title: "It's a Rainy Day, Sunshine Girl" is the title of a
song by an old band named Faust. The song really doesn't have too
much to do with the story, but it sounds good. (grin)
Other Tidbits: In fact, there are a number of old rock band and
title references stuffed throughout this and all the other
episodes, so bone up on your ancient music history. Bonus points
if you can find all of them.
[Bastion: Do I get a prize?
Anyway, on to the serious commentary, if you want to call it that.
On the whole, I *really* like this. Having talked to Matt and shared C&C
with him (no bodily fluids, I swear), I am humbled that Matt took the energy
that frustration drains from you and turn it into an intriquing story.
I must admit, though, Matt has a distinct style of writing which is unique
to him, which I already like anyway, sooooo....
Dialog is excellent as always.
Caravan is overtly cute as she should.
Kenji is as Matt as one could possibly stand <wink>.
My only problem is with Kenji's mother, she seems a little too accepting
and I mean, for cripes sake, there's a girl in his room! Wouldn't she be
a little curious?
Either way, it will be interesting to see what happens when Kenji gets into
a love triangle with Tanako (<muttering> Damn it!) and his muse. Sounds
like Jerry Springer material to me! So in the immortal words of a great man
who claimed great notoriety:
Jessy: Whoah, hey, hey, huh?
Dole: Liberal!
Bastion: My sentiments exactly.]
Disclaimer:
This ends our MST, all characters used by Bastion is not his, nor would
he want them, except maybe Bartok, who makes a nice muse himself
but then that would be exploring into Bastion's dark nether regions of his
mind which no one should view at anytime or cost. The story itself is
property of Matt Johnston and not that of Bastion and should not be
reproduced without written conscent and a due payment of a dozen
twinkies.
Adios, I hoped you enjoyed the ride!
Bastion