On Thursday 05 July 2001 15:58, you wrote:
To reply, post publically or e-mail the author at Kyhdin@aol.com
Enjoy!
Oh yeah :)
Tokyo Public Library, Main Branch, 2pm
"At the Main Branch of the Tokyo Public Library, _ten_ _people_
witnessed a free-floating, full-torsoed vaporous apparition. It blew
books off shelves from twenty feet away and scared the socks off some
poor librarian!"
"Ray, we're _not_ making Ghostbusters 3! Go home!"
While most
books these days were on data cards, her professor, a particularly
sadistic
(she felt) fellow named Tan, felt that the old method of reviewing
books and
Using 'felt' twice in the same sentence is a bit awkward. Try
'considered' or something for the second one.
absorbing the information within was a far superior way then reading
words on
the screen and copying relevant portions into a terminal.
Linna saw nothing wrong with that method, she had graduated from
college with
her business degree that way and it had gotten her the job she held
at the moment.
'And the lecherous manager, the pitiful wages, the pathetic
motor-scooter, her favorite shoes ruined, a body-mangling new hobby,
and a bunch of sociopaths for friends... on second thought, a new
method sounds just peachy!'
"Of course, after watching Nene, Nigel and Mackie, I just had to go
and decide that I want a better degree," she muttered to herself as
she sideste pped a book on the floor. "So what do I pick? Mechanical
engineering. Why? Because I was so good at math in college that I
figured engineering math would be a breeze." Turning down an aisle
she shifted the books to one arm and stared at the shred of paper in
her hand. "So it is, but for a professor,
I get the Marquis DeSade."
Could be worse. Could be Vlad Tepes in Home-Ec!
"I'm sorry, miss," said the sandy haired young man as he crouched
down and began to gather the spilled books.
sandy-haired
"And I'd like to make it up to you with some coffee." He gave her a
dazzling
grin that made her toes curl.
'Phantom's log: Orgasmo-tron implanted in front incisor works like a
charm. Having to beat off the young ladies with stick. Only problem:
Can't smile at Mom ever again.'
"That sounds fair," she agreed.
"And," he continued, scooping up the stack of books easily, "I'll be
your beast of burden for these miss. . ." he trailed off and looked
at her inquisitively.
"... for these, Miss . . . ?"
"Sort of, my great, great, great," Kit paused and counted off on his
fingers,
"Sort of. My great etc."
"Well, I was born in Hikado. . ."
I think you're looking for "Hokkaido" on this one, but I may be wrong.
"I. . ." She hesitated and for a moment, she was sixteen again,
betrayed and
humiliated in front of her peers and then she was back in the
present. "I'd love to." She said. "A friend of mine is playing at a
Commas are a right bitch, but I think this one goes like: She
hesitated and, for a moment, she was sixteen again, betrayed and
humiliated in front of her peers; then she was back in the present.
"Against what?" Kit asked acidly. "Rouge boomers?"
"Actually, it's the pink ones you need to watch out for the most,
although the Chartreuse is a particularly cunning adversary. On the
whole, rouge boomers are not that big a threat."
"How are you doing with Priss and Leon?" Linna asked, eager to change
the subject.
Nene pouts, mumbling, "Priss is a big ol' fuddy-duddy! She says she
won't share him, not even a little! I told _her_ that if it was okay
for me to be sleeping with both of them one at a time, then it should
be even _okayer_ if it's both at the _same_ time! She said I should
get my own. What a poo-head!"
"Yeah," Linna said impishly, "I can't see anyone taking their clothes
off."
"Of course, my professor won't let me take off this blind-fold until I
pass the mid-terms, so that's not saying much. Say, is it just me, or
is it drafty in here?"
way to the exit in an orderly fashion, I have been informed that a
rouge boomer is headed this way."
The only people that really need fear the rouge boomer are wicked
little make-up artists, but it's best to be safe.
Naturally, the club exploded as everyone panicked.
That's why refried beans are strictly prohibited in the classier joints
Priss plays at.
"No, thank God," Sylia said and then gave the singer an arch little
smile. "Detective MacNichol was in charge and he has more sense then
that." The fact
that he had tried to face down the Griffin with just a handgun was
not brought up.
Continuity check: Are you _sure_ this is 2040?
"You and me flank it while they rush it?" Nene asked. It nodded its
head and
"Actually, I want you to go get us some drinks; I'm gonna take a leak.
Later!"
then sprinted across the room, the gun in its hand spitting white hot
death.
White-hot death, being short-hand for "Plasma-powered Rouge Removers."
It's a strange world.
"Yes, sir. The legend calls him the 'Ghost Who Walks'. But
historically, he's
known as the Phantom."
Not bad! Keep it comin'!
Martin