“Goooooooooooood morning OJ!”
“Why are you up?”
OJ shambled past Apples and into the kitchen.
“I made you breakfast!” said Apples, dancing after him. “Because I noticed that you’re kind of really tired with work, you didn’t even stay up to watch D. Welling last night and I know how much you love sarcasm.”
OJ surveyed the breakfast Apples had prepared for him.
“This … this is … you’ve iced some chocolate chippie biscuits and put hundreds and thousands on them. And what’s this juice?”
“Everything!”
“Everything?”
“EVERYTHING!”
“You mean you’ve put fizzy raspberry and creaming soda and orange juice and mango juice and pineapple juice and … and why is it cloudy like this? Apples, why is it swirling like that?”
“Maybe the milk? And there’s also chai syrup and caramel syrup and chocolate syrup because I know how much you like that, and a banana for potassium and an egg for protein. And a spoonful of every different ice-cream flavour we have—which, trust me, is a lot.”
“I’m honestly surprised you managed to fit all that in what appears to be a relatively small glass.”
“Oh, I mixed it all up first. In the mixer.”
OJ turned to look at the mixer.
“Mm,” he said. “And I imagine the next step in your plan was going to be cleaning up?”
Apples nodded happily. “But I thought I’d wait until Dorothee saw it, you know how she loves to hustle people. She can be all ‘Apples Butterfly Cervantes Dinosaur Etc. Overmoon, I cannot BELIEVE you left this mess here, look, the banana’s already solidified, come on, you’d better clean this up RIGHT this instant’, you know she likes to get all worked up about that kind of stuff.”
“How thoughtful of you,” said OJ, as he picked up a biscuit. “Is that part of your ‘make Dorothee fun’ project?”
“Um … no. No, not really, that’s just me being lovely. But anyway, Project DoroFun is going good! Really really good! I think there’s real potential for her, y’know? I mean, if you ask me she’s always been fun, it’s not like I’d have a best friend who WASN’T fun, but she’s really making good progress towards enjoying stuff more.”
OJ crunched a thoughtful biscuit.
“Don’t push her too hard,” he said. “You don’t want to make her lose her ‘Doro-ness’.”
“Probably I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to,” said Apples, taking one of the biscuits she’d prepared for OJ. “She’s pretty strong.”
“She’s unbelievably strong, have you ever arm-wrestled her? It’s almost freakish.”
“I mean, like, ‘in the head’.”
“Hah, if she played D&D with us she’d be a great dwarf, ‘Dorothee Stronginthehead’.”
“Oh! Hey! Brainy idea, OJ! We should totally get her to play with us, she’d love that!”
“I don’t know, she kind of lost interest after you took over as DM. And remember The Worst Ever Dice Roll In The History Of All Things?”
“The Wedrithoat,” Apples whispered, something like awe in her voice. “Maybe I’ll never forget that … but who cares, she used to love it! Remember? When you two were first going out you were SOOOO cute together—”
“All right, enough of that. Well … maybe, but I think probably we should start a new campaign if Dorothee’s going to join—”
“Nooooo we’re just getting to the interesting stuff, I’ve got this whole big thing planned … but anyway, yes! Let’s do it! I’ll invite Toad around tonight and let’s have a sesh, a total sesh!”
“I wonder if starting things off with Politico Maximo would be better,” said OJ, thoughtfully. “I can kind of see her getting into that, it’s a pretty vicious game.”
“Huh … maybe. Okay, let’s do that tonight then, I’ll teach her this afternoon and help her make a deck and then we can all play together! Wow, this is like a new stage of fun in this house.”
OJ smiled, then frowned as he looked at his watch.
“Oh, buggins. Time to go to work already.”
Apples stood between OJ and the door.
“Move, Apples, I really do need to get going.”
“Oh by the way, OJ,” she said, her voice clipped. “I figured out your little ‘joke’, the music shop you work in isn’t in Leyton at all, is it! Because you leave at like quarter to ten and you have to be there at ten so you couldn’t POSSIBLY be taking the ferry!”
“I, uh—”
“And ‘no sisters’? That’s not legal! I asked Peter and he said it was a joke! Don’t joke about that kind of stuff!”
“Okay, okay, sorry, I just … I was having fun, you can’t blame me.”
Apples pursed her lips, then stepped to the side.
“I guess not,” she said. “But this means a forfeit, you understand that, right?”
“Section Eight, Article Four, yes, yes. Although a ‘minor forfeit’, I think you’ll find.”
“I could push for an upgrade you know, there IS room for dispute here,” said Apples. “But minor is fine because I already know what it is. You have to take me to your work sometime. Maybe tomorrow, today I’m busy. Oh! Hey, so that’s why Doro’s been there, I was wondering when she went to Leyton!”
The phone rang. Both OJ and Apples turned to look at it.
“Someone should get that,” said OJ. “And I’m already going to be a bit late. See you later, Apples.”
“Forfeit!” Apples called after him. “A minor forfeit is still a forfeit!”
“Have fun with Dorothee today.”
“We will!” Apples called, as the front door closed. “Oh, hey! YOU FORGOT YOUR EVERYTHING DRINK oh well more for me. Hello?” she said, after picking up the phone. “Oh, hey, Mum! Hi! Are you shocked and amazed that I’m up so early? Delighted, even? Get Dad then, I bet he would be. Call him, then! DAD! DAD! IT’S APPLES AND I’M UP! Huh? Oh, because of OJ, he’s working pretty hard these days so I made him breakfast. I heard that, Dad! I did not burn cereal! I made him Treat Biscuits and Everything Drink. He didn’t drink that, though. YES I WAS PLANNING TO CLEAN UP THE MESS DON’T GET DOWN ON ME. I was just being very thoughtful and waiting for Doro to get up so—oh, yeah! Dorothee’s being fun! I mean … I’m teaching her to enjoy things. Right? That’s what I thought! Perfect! I wonder if I could even get a job doing this? There seems to be a lot of people who could use it! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah, exactly! Oh. No, go ahead. What? Seriously for real-reals? That’s great! Cool! For how long? No, that’s excellent! Okay, love you too, bye-bye!”
Apples put down the phone, then thought for a moment, then went skipping off to tell Dorothee the good news.
*
“—so, um, really it’s a pretty good album, I mean there are a couple of good songs on it, Unbelievable Sunshine Heights is kind of amazing, but the rest is pretty, y’know, it never quite reaches that level again, if you get what I’m saying,” said OJ. The customer nodded as he looked down at the CD he was holding.
“So basically you’re saying it’s just got that one great song?”
“Well, um, Rainbow Coast is pretty good too, but … um, yeah, I guess so.”
“Okay. Maybe I’ll give it a miss then, thanks.”
OJ watched the customer leave.
“I feel conflicted,” he said.
“Scaring off the customers again, OJ?”
“I, um, sorry, I just … I guess I can’t … I mean maybe I’m not such a good salesman.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Hannah. “I mean, it’s great if you can recommend and sell some CDs, but I wouldn’t want you to ‘compromise’ your ‘integrity’.”
“I, um, what?”
“Maybe we’ll leave this kind of stuff to Moxie, she’s really the expert around here anyway.”
OJ bristled quietly. “I … it’s not that I don’t know—”
“Could you go sort out the headphones? Moxie’s busy with those teenagers and I don’t want to break her flow—she’s pretty amazing on that guitar, don’t you think? It’s worth keeping her here just to listen to her play, I should give you more of her chores just so she’s got more free time for that kind of stuff.”
“Um, I—”
“Anyway, those headphones aren’t gonna clean themselves, you’d better jump to it.”
“Yeah, sorry, um …”
Hannah was already reorganising the nearby Jazz section. OJ nodded awkwardly to himself then went off to sort out the headphones, which were quite close to Moxie and the teenagers.
“—look, you’re not idiots, even if your t-shirts would suggest otherwise, and you’ve got the money, what I’m saying is that if you buy this guitar here you’re gonna regret it. Maybe not in a week, maybe not in a month, but pretty soon you’re gonna hit the ceiling with this thing and you’re gonna wish you went with something more true to your spirit. You’re just not ever gonna properly sync with this thing, that’s a fact—take it from your Aunt Moxie, this guitar? Does not like you. Don’t take it personally, this guitar doesn’t like anyone, it’s a real grouch. This guitar, on the other hand … I can see something pretty special growing between you two. He’s not a gentle beast, he’s a little wild, a little sullen, maybe even a little over-sensitive, but I can tell you’ve got the heart to bring out his best.”
OJ angled the spray bottle so it went invisible while he sanitised the headphones. Watching the spray appear as if from nowhere was a simple pleasure, but one he enjoyed immensely. Even so …
“Maybe she’s TOO good,” he muttered.
*
Dorothee had the city under her control. The armed forces were causing some problems, but what good were guns without bullets? Besides, it wouldn’t come to shooting. This was not open war. This was a battle fought with transportation strikes and production delays.
“You’re too good at this game, Doro. This is supposed to be like the practice game where I show you how to play and you’re still totally beating me.”
“It’s pretty easy, though.”
“Maybe to you! I don’t think I want to play this against you again, even with OJ on my side.”
“OJ wouldn’t take your side.”
“He’s my brother, it’s not like he has a choice.”
“But he fears me more than he loves you,” said Dorothee. She smiled as she laid down a card. “He knows how good my memory is. An early slight can mean death in the endgame.”
Apples shivered.
“Okay, let’s stop this,” she said, “you win, you win, let’s do something else instead.”
“I was kind of building up to something—”
“It’s too real, Doro, it’s too real!”
Dorothee shook her head, but she began tidying the cards that occupied most of the dining table.
“Oh,” said Apples, as she absently ‘helped’. “I forgot to tell you, you distracted me with your awesome hair this morning—”
“I really do need to get a haircut—”
“Mum and Dad are coming! To stay! Apparently there’s a huuuuuge ant problem at their new place, the one in Leyton, they’re getting the whole house detonated.”
“You mean fumigated?”
“So! They’re taking the opportunity to visit their best daughter! Isn’t that fun?”
Dorothee paused in her tidying.
“Better than MY family coming, anyway,” she said, after a moment. “I don’t know what I’d do if one of them showed up suddenly.”
“Oh, they’re not so bad, don’t get down on your own family, Doro!”
“They’re not here, it’s not like I’m hurting anyone’s feelings. I wouldn’t even mind all their creepy intense religious stuff so much if they weren’t so selfish—I can’t remember a single time any of them have called or visited or anything except when they wanted something from me.”
“But you know what they say, ‘you can pick your nose, but not your family!’.”
“I’m fairly certain that’s not how the saying goes.”
“But still, it’s—”
Apples was interrupted by a knock at the front door. Dorothee sighed.
“I’ll go answer it, then—”
“No, no! You put the cards away and think about something fun, it’s like homework, this time YOU have to think of the fun activity for the afternoon! Make it a good one! I’ll go see who it is.”
Dorothee tidied the last of the cards into their box while Apples scampered off to answer the door. Something fun, she thought. What’s fun? This game was quite fun, if I had someone with more guile than Apples (i.e. some guile) to play against it might be kind of satisfying. Aha, trapped myself! ‘Satisfying’, no! Fun! Fun fun fun! What do I enjoy?
“Doro! Look!”
Dorothee looked up as Apples ran back into the lounge, a cat tucked under each arm.
“Cats! Two of ‘em!”
“Apples, I really hope you didn’t just encounter some kind of door-to-door cat salesman.”
“Nope! It was some cousin or other of yours, she’s going away for a few weeks and wanted you to look after her cats for her. Fun, right?”
“No! Apples! I don’t want to look after some mad cousin’s cats! Why did you say yes?”
Apples looked hurt. So did the cats, come to that.
“I thought—”
“Apples, this is crazy, I don’t even LIKE cats—neither do you!”
“Yes I do! I love cats!”
“You said the other day, you said there’s nothing more useless than a cat, you SAID that!”
“Well that doesn’t mean I don’t LIKE them, something doesn’t have to be USEFUL for me to like it, look at candy! Look at ice cream! They’re both useless too, I mean chewing gum does have its uses, sure, and if you accidentally chopped off your finger you could probably keep it in a carton of ice cream until somebody stitched it back on but that’s neither here nor there, the point is we have these cats now, they’re here and we have to deal with them. We’re not kids any more, Dorothee! We’re parents now!”
“What’s this ‘we’ I keep hearing? YOU are going to take care of those cats, Miss Apples, since you’re such a big cat-lover, and since you’re the one who agreed to take them.”
“That’s okay with me, because I’m naturally a very caring and
capable—OW! You stupid cat, don’t SCRATCH me! I was just defending you, what kind of behaviour is that? Doro! The stupid cat scratched me! How ungrateful!”
“Actually I am kind of having fun now,” said Dorothee, as Apples dropped the other cat and it instantly shot under the couch.
“Your mean streak is showing,” Apples muttered, as she bent down to look under the couch. “Come on, you crazy cat. Don’t be stubborn.”
“I think I’ll take a bath, swanning around in my PJs all day isn’t as much fun as it sounded.”
“Are you kidding? PJs are extremely awesome, Doro, you should—hey!”
The cat sped out from under the couch to tackle the other cat, the two of them tumbling around the lounge in a hissing ball of fur and claws.
“Doro, help!”
“Sorry, I’m on holiday right now. Dealing with cats isn’t part of my vacation. Have fun!” Doro called, as she headed for the bathroom. Apples looked helplessly after her, then sank dramatically to her knees, arms outstretched as she wailed to the uncaring ceiling:
“CAAAAAAAATS!”
*
OJ shivered.
“What’s wrong?” Hannah asked.
“I felt a great disturbance in what-should-be,” he said. “As if a single voice of reason cried out, then went and had a bath.”
“Um, what?”
“Oh … nothing important. I hope. Uh, your hair seems different?”
“Do you like it? I had some highlights put in and had the ends trimmed off, it was getting quite shaggy. And I couldn’t resist this cute pink ribbon.”
“Um, it’s good. It’s, um … it’s natural, right? The colour? The non-highlighted colour, I mean.”
“Yes—it’s cool that you can tell, a lot of people just assume it’s coloured.”
“No, it’s … if you look properly you can tell.”
Hannah smiled. “I’m glad you did look properly,” she said.
OJ puzzled over the slightly odd nature of this sentence.
“Um, well, I … always try to look,” he said, after a few moments. “When I can.”
“It’s a little strange, because neither of my parents have blue hair. Mum’s brown and Dad’s kind of brown-black.”
“It looks good, anyway. Um, kind of … ‘feathery’?”
“Feathery …”
For a moment, OJ felt as if he were teetering over the brink of some deep, dark abyss.
“Feathery, yes! Exactly, that’s a really good way of describing it, OJ!” The abyss stared back, and said (with, for some reason, Droopy Dawg’s voice), ‘I’ll get you next time, dooood’.
“Ahahahaha,” said OJ.
“You like Cindy Chapman, don’t you?”
“Ah … yeah, I mean I’m not a huge fan, my sister likes her way more than me—”
“Oh, yes, that was it—your sister was the big fan, you mentioned that a couple of times. Okay, good.”
OJ waited for a few seconds, in case Hannah was going somewhere with this, but that was apparently the end of the conversation, as she walked off to tidy the plectrum display at the other end of the counter.
“Um, okay,” he muttered. “Cool.”
*
Suddenly, a wild Clodlet appears!
Sunny charges forward with a Solar Burst!
Sunny hits the Clodlet for 4 damage!
The Clodlet is stunned, but shakes itself and recovers.
Clodlet attacks with Stone Fists.
Sunny darts aside!
The Clodlet’s attack missed!
Sunny focuses a beam of solar energy, Ray Of Light!
CRITICAL HIT!
Sunny hits the Clodlet for 12 damage!
The Clodlet can’t fight any longer and collapses.
Sunny wins the battle!
Sunny earned 12 XP.
Sunny is now level 4! HP & MP increased!
Sunny gained the trait ‘Tenacious’.
“I think it’s too easy, still. And these battle messages, a few too many exclamation marks maybe?”
“The writing’s fine for now, I’m just happy it’s all working well. But I think you’re right about the difficulty—maybe we need to make battles longer, get a bit more strategy in there.”
“More than that, just one-on-one fights are too boring. We should implement the ‘support’ idea.”
“It’d mean a lot of work, re-writing the entire combat system—”
“It needs re-writing anyway, right now it’s just too hacky.”
“That’s true. Okay, we’ll focus on that for now—”
“Design first!”
“Yes, yes, yes. But I could at least put a basic framework together—”
“No no, the framework comes after the design, or later more problems will arise! Design, then framework, and THEN art!”
“Hey guys. What are you two doing?”
Vin and Lewis looked up from the computer screen, at the lanky intruder into their conversation.
“Uh,” said Vin. “Uh, hi, Mr Theory. It’s just … stuff.”
“It’s a game we’re working on,” said Lewis. “Come and see?”
Less than a minute of explanation and demonstration later, there was an increased aura of excitement in Nerd Lair #4.
“Really, you’re at a great point with this game, you can really focus on adding content now.”
“Um, well, we’ve deliberately tried to keep everything very simple and manageable, though,” said Vin. “We’re conscious of not going too fast.”
“But these notes that you have, the idea of having all these areas available from the start, giving the player all these choices, and with the discipline you’ve shown getting it to this point, I really think you have something here.”
“We definitely don’t want to bite off more than we can chew, though,” said Vin. Lewis scoffed.
“No, but he has such a point, that ambition is a good thing—”
“But drawing the tilesets alone—”
“Why not do it in ASCII?” Mr Theory suggested. “It seems like the basic systems you’ve got here are solid enough to support a less graphical interface—”
“Uh, no, sorry—I know it’s weird, but I just like, y’know, 16-bit style, pixel art and all that, if I can’t see my character running around all cool and pixel-y there’s not much point for me,” said Vin. “It’s just, y’know, a thing for me.”
“Okay. I get that,” said Mr Theory. “But still, it can’t take that long to throw together some grass and tree tiles for a forest setting, for example. My point is that even with ‘programmer art’ that the underlying mechanics and gameplay here are clearly good enough to shine through, and once people see that I’m certain you’ll attract interest from some of the great visual artists around here—this could become an amazing project.”
Vin and Lewis exchanged glances. Mr Theory laughed.
“I know, you don’t want to lose control of your creation—”
“No—well, yes, of course, but it’s not really that,” said Vin. “It’s just that we’re not really, um, ‘organisers’. Fiddling around with the game like this is fine, but managing—”
“Say no more, I understand exactly what you mean,” said Mr Theory. He looked back at the game screen, where a little yellow sphere with cute black eyes and sweet little ears floated in a cave, patiently waiting for input. It blinked at him. “You put in idle animations?” he asked, surprised.
“Well, if it’s just a blink …”
“I suppose so.” Mr Theory thought for a moment, then shrugged and straightened. “Well, if you two are happy doing it, then that’s fine in itself. But I really think you should start trying to gather people to this thing.” He looked down at the screen for a moment longer, then he smiled. “It could really be big.”
*
“CAAAAAAAAAAAATS!”
*
OJ sat on a bench, in a park, eating a pie. It was a warm late-spring day, the sky clear and blue, the air soft and breezy, the faint scent of the ocean mingling with the burnt toffee smell of the Katsura trees around him.
“I really wish I was in the kind of mood to enjoy all this,” he muttered.
“Always the negative one.”
OJ looked up.
“If I’ve fallen asleep and dropped my pie I’m going to be just so cross,” he said.
“You don’t have to worry about that, OJ.” David Bowie sat beside OJ, resting his thin black cane across his lap. “Haven’t you ever heard of a ‘waking dream’?”
OJ took a bite of his pie and shrugged.
“It sounds vaguely familiar. So that means you can come and annoy me when I’m awake now, is that it?”
“Well,” said David Bowie, with a light chuckle, “it’s a little more complicated than that.”
“I bet it isn’t, actually. You just like making things seem more mysterious and complex than they really are. And what on earth is going on with your hair?”
“Don’t you like it OJ? I just had it done, I’m going for a freaky new look.”
“You got the ‘freaky’ part right, anyway. By the way, am I sitting on this bench talking to myself?”
“You’re talking to me OJ, you’re talking to me.”
“Yeah, but if someone was watching—”
“Rest assured that anyone choosing to take an interest in you would see nothing out of the ordinary.”
OJ spent a few moments adjusting the position of his pie in its paper bag, then he took another bite.
“Hm,” he said, after chewing and swallowing. “That was vaguely insulting without really answering my question.”
“What we see and what we hear reflects our—”
“All right, all right, whatever. Actually, now that I think about it, ‘normal-looking guy sitting eating a pie and talking to himself’ is probably slightly more ordinary than ‘normal-looking guy sitting eating a pie and having a conversation with a tall, ridiculously thin man wearing a black silk suit and high-heeled boots, with hair that looks like it’s in the process of exploding’.”
“I could change if you like.”
“No, no, whatever, I’ve only got another ten minutes left for lunch—are you here for a reason?”
“I’m glad you asked that OJ, because the truth is I’m here to help you.”
“Not this again.”
“You and your sister and your sensible friend are all in need of my help. You may not recognise the necessity—”
“I really do have to get back to work, you know. I realise you’ve probably spent quite a bit of time figuring out this nice little speech but would you kindly get to the point?”
David Bowie ran his fingers idly over his cane as he gazed up at the trees.
“You should act boldly,” he said, after a moment. “Light the lamp and walk forward together with the one you choose. Gold, azure and shadow-black. The connection of time, the unorthodox highway, and the safe and narrow.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
David Bowie stood.
“Back to work,” he said, and he walked away. OJ watched him go, then sighed, finished his pie, disposed of the paper bag in a suitable receptacle and walked back to the music shop.
*
“TOTALLY, just TOTALLY and EXACTLY what I think. Wow. You’re cool.”
Moxie laughed, then patted Apples on the head.
“Yeah,” she said.
“I can’t believe OJ—OJ! Why have you kept your cool friends away from me? Bad OJ! Goodness but I wish I had a packet of jetplanes to hit you with right now!”
“Don’t blame your brother for wanting to keep me all for himself. Hey OJ.”
“Apples. Why is. Apples. Why is. Apples. Why is. Apples. Why … why is—”
“Keep up that rhythm and you’d have the basis for a decent song,” said Moxie. “I’m going for lunch, see you in a while.”
OJ stared after Moxie as she left, then turned on Apples.
“Why is you here? I mean why ARE you here? Why? Are? You? Here?”
“Um, because you’re my brother?”
OJ was frozen in place, hands raised slightly, eyes a little glazed.
“Connection. Fail to see. Connection.”
“You think I wouldn’t come support my big bro at his work? I brought you snacks! Chocolate snacks! Some of them got eated though, sorry. Those darn cats!”
OJ attempted to process this and failed utterly.
“Why?”
“Hey, OJ! Is this your sister? She looks just like you, so cute. Hi, I’m Hannah—”
“Oh! You’re Hannah Redivider! Redivider Hannah! Your name is AWESOMELY palindromagical, I know you must get that all the time but I can’t help it, I just think it’s excellently splendid. Marvellously splendid, even.”
“And you’re Apple, right?”
“AppleS actually, there’s an ‘s’ in there, right at the end. Lots of people miss it, though, so don’t feel bad.”
“Apples? Like … plural apples?”
“No, plural Apples. The ‘a’ is capitalised, it’s pretty common with names—oh, except for my friend Glen—do you know him? Too Glum Glen? No? Well, I don’t know if you’d call him my ‘friend’, actually, I mean he doesn’t believe in friends—part of the reason why he’s way Too Glum—but apparently his name doesn’t have any capital letters in it, not any more. So actually he’s too glum glen but really, that just doesn’t sound right. So I call him Too Glum Glen anyway, so does everyone else. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you. I brought some chocolate croissants if you want one. They’re a little melty but nonetheless delightful.”
“I, um, okay, thanks. Let’s all have one? OJ?”
“Uh, um … uh, sure. Thanks, Apples.”
Apples watched expectantly as OJ took a small bite.
“Delightful, right? Hannah Redivider would agree, I’m sure.”
“I do!”
“You see?”
“Um, yes, pretty delightful,” said OJ, putting the croissant back in the paper bag Apples was holding. “Um, Apples, I don’t want to be rude but I’m actually working now, I just finished my lunch break—”
“Oh, it’s fine, OJ,” said Hannah. “It’s pretty quiet, you can chat with your sister for a bit. I’ll be entering the new albums into the system if you need me for anything.”
Apples watched Hannah walk over behind the counter, then grinned a knowing grin at OJ, and adopted a mock-sultry pose.
“If you need me for … anything,” she said. “Hannah Redivider likes you.”
“What? What?”
“You’re not allowed to marry her though, Hannah Overmoon is not in the least palindromagical. Noomrevo Hannah … Noomrevo. Noomrevo Seppla. Oh! OJ! Noomrevo Seppla! My name sounds awesome backwards! Who cares about the palindromagicality of it, Noomrevo Seppla! My name is Seppla Noomrevo, I am here to save your kingdom. Seppla Noomrevo, hello. Hello. Hi. Yes, that’s my real name. Seppla Noomrevo. I am half-ferret.”
“Um, Apples—”
“Oh, I should have an evil twin, then they’d be sepplA noomrevO, that’d be awesome!”
“Apples.”
“Yes, Segnaro?”
OJ struggled with himself for a moment.
“How are you?” he finally managed.
“Good! Great! How are you? How are YOU? How? Are? YOU?”
“I’m … I’m okay. I saw David Bowie just before.”
“Wow, did you take a nap during your lunch break? That’s so OOC.”
“No, apparently he doesn’t need us to be asleep to bother us now.”
“Oh, like that time in the Underground. That was cool, wasn’t it? I was all like ‘um, um, um’ and everyone was like ‘OH WHAT IS IT APPLES?’ and I was like ‘Why is David Bowie still around even though we’re not asleep?’ and then—”
“Yes, yes, I was there, I know.”
“And Doro and I shared a dream the other night, too, and he showed up—”
“With the dancing bus, you told me about that already.”
“Oh. Did I—”
“Blue with pink polka dots.”
“Oh. Well, anyway—”
“He says it’s because we need help again. But really, when I think about it, all he did last time is drive the van for a while.”
“Didn’t he have something to do with getting us through the Dream Underground? I kind of remember something along those lines.”
“That whole thing was just weird and inadequately explicable.”
Apples thought for a moment, then shrugged.
“Oh well, maybe he can be our ‘fourth’ for the game tonight—Doro turned out to be waaaaaay too good at Politico Maximo, like scary-good, like actual Evil Genius stuff, so I talked her into joining us for D&D tonight instead. Toad can’t come, she’s got that sentient flu that’s been going around, and I haven’t heard from Vin for aaaaaaages.”
“Rooster can’t come either. One of his dogs is about to learn how to whistle, apparently.”
“What! He’s not coming AGAIN? Huff! So we reeeeeeally need someone else, D&D with just three people is booooring—if you see David Bowie again invite him, okay?”
“I will do that only if you promise to stop stretching out your words so much, it’s starting to get distracting,” said OJ.
“Oh, and you have to DM, too. It’s Doro’s Special Request.”
“Hm. Okay, cool. I’ve got some stuff I’ve been wanting to do for a while anyway. Now, however, I really do have to work, I’m not getting paid to stand around talking with you.”
“That’d be a cool job. ‘Talking to Apples’. It’s okay, though, I’ve got stuff to do anyway—”
“You do not.”
“I do! Well … kind of stuff. You can keep the croissants for later, I already ate like five. Apples awaaaaaa—oh, sorry.”
OJ pointedly didn’t sigh as Apples left the shop.
“If you’re looking for something to do, there’s a stack of DVDs that need re-pricing,” said Hannah, as she passed him.
“Cool,” said OJ. “Uh, just a minute, um, Hannah, I, uh, w-wanted to talk to you about … um, something.”
DOT DOT DOT.
