for Morgan. Even though only a few ticts had passed, he was nowhere to be found. Beaver suddenly had a sinking feeling of dread come over him.
What if he was a turncoat? What have I done -- his mind suddenly flooded with logical fear.
“ How could I have been so stupid !” he audibly whispered.
“I don’t think he was a spy … I think he lives here. Academy spies always live in the Acad-bunkers in New Dresden. You know that …” Tim equally whispered, trying to talk sense to his friend.
“Plus--he stunk like Stowelowly …” Tim said with a smile.
“ He did … didn’t he ?” Beaver said with a snicker.
Timmy always had a knack for calming Beaver and his many moods.
“Let’s get some Parv-Bacon, before they eat it all …”
Beaver nodded in agreement.
The streets of Stowelowly were abuzz with activity, as they always were each decision day. Very rarely, a rogue Elite would show up; usually looking for a medicinal high. But almost all of the Elites kept a far distance from this retched place. It was seen as a great mark of shame for an Academy Elite to mingle with the “ pariahs ,” as they had come to be known. Stowelowly was brimming with filth and diseases. It was an unwanted place of all the refuse of the Academy’s totalistic society. It was a place to become tainted, marked with the scarlet symbol of “ outcast .” This is probably why this place of impurity was much more popular than all of New Judah’s museums and places of recreation, among the Selects of Westbrook.
“ Rare timepieces! Shiny things! Plenty to go round! Low costs !” shouted a voice from the side of the pathway. Beaver and Timmy rolled their eyes and began to walk faster. It was Bobble again.
“Hopefully, he hasn’t seen us…” Tim said, trying to jaunt away as quickly as possible.
“Hey wait! Bobble has goodies! Come see!” he yelled upon sight of the duo.
Beaver and Tim started running and laughing, away from their unwanted pest.
Tim yelled as they ran, “ Dog! Bobble, you Dog !”
Soon, old Bobble was out of sight, as they turned the corner near the crumbling train station.
“You think we lost him?” Timmy breathlessly spoke.
“If not, I’m going to have to knock him out…” Beaver interjected equally out of breath. Bobble was always a perpetual, annoying thorn in their side. One day, Tim decided to be nice and buy some of his ghastly wares. Ever since, Bobble has acted like an extinct rescued puppy, constantly looking to them for support.
“Bobble is such a bum ! He probably has never sanitized in his entire life!” Beaver said, gaining his breath.
“ Yeah, bum … yeah .” Tim said still looking for more oxygen.
The crumbling old train station, once a place for antiquated transportation; now is a bazaar of all things deemed goldpence worthy. If they didn’t have it, they could probably get it--at the right price, of course. Beaver and Tim, after regaining their composure; slowly walked up the heavily pitted, concrete steps leading inside. The inner façade of the massive building was filled with mid-ancient murals of a time long past. There were faded paintings of smiling children, family picnics, and locomotive engineers tuning their steel horses; that adorned the yellowed walls. More than all of the vendors and wares, Beaver always liked looking at all of the works on the inner façade. Even but for a moment, they gave him hope that there could be life without the ruling Academy.
“ Are you coming ?! I can smell the Parv-bacon cooking …” Tim said in his usual high-strung way.
Beaver snapped back into his unwanted reality.
“ Oh … sure .” He said, following Tim to the makeshift cart where the aroma originated.
“ That’ll be 200 GP …” a scraggly sounding voice said with an outstretched metascanner.
“ 200! It was only 100 last decision day !” Tim demanded as he quickly retracted his hand. He always made it a point to frequent this particular vendor, however today
What if he was a turncoat? What have I done -- his mind suddenly flooded with logical fear.
“ How could I have been so stupid !” he audibly whispered.
“I don’t think he was a spy … I think he lives here. Academy spies always live in the Acad-bunkers in New Dresden. You know that …” Tim equally whispered, trying to talk sense to his friend.
“Plus--he stunk like Stowelowly …” Tim said with a smile.
“ He did … didn’t he ?” Beaver said with a snicker.
Timmy always had a knack for calming Beaver and his many moods.
“Let’s get some Parv-Bacon, before they eat it all …”
Beaver nodded in agreement.
The streets of Stowelowly were abuzz with activity, as they always were each decision day. Very rarely, a rogue Elite would show up; usually looking for a medicinal high. But almost all of the Elites kept a far distance from this retched place. It was seen as a great mark of shame for an Academy Elite to mingle with the “ pariahs ,” as they had come to be known. Stowelowly was brimming with filth and diseases. It was an unwanted place of all the refuse of the Academy’s totalistic society. It was a place to become tainted, marked with the scarlet symbol of “ outcast .” This is probably why this place of impurity was much more popular than all of New Judah’s museums and places of recreation, among the Selects of Westbrook.
“ Rare timepieces! Shiny things! Plenty to go round! Low costs !” shouted a voice from the side of the pathway. Beaver and Timmy rolled their eyes and began to walk faster. It was Bobble again.
“Hopefully, he hasn’t seen us…” Tim said, trying to jaunt away as quickly as possible.
“Hey wait! Bobble has goodies! Come see!” he yelled upon sight of the duo.
Beaver and Tim started running and laughing, away from their unwanted pest.
Tim yelled as they ran, “ Dog! Bobble, you Dog !”
Soon, old Bobble was out of sight, as they turned the corner near the crumbling train station.
“You think we lost him?” Timmy breathlessly spoke.
“If not, I’m going to have to knock him out…” Beaver interjected equally out of breath. Bobble was always a perpetual, annoying thorn in their side. One day, Tim decided to be nice and buy some of his ghastly wares. Ever since, Bobble has acted like an extinct rescued puppy, constantly looking to them for support.
“Bobble is such a bum ! He probably has never sanitized in his entire life!” Beaver said, gaining his breath.
“ Yeah, bum … yeah .” Tim said still looking for more oxygen.
The crumbling old train station, once a place for antiquated transportation; now is a bazaar of all things deemed goldpence worthy. If they didn’t have it, they could probably get it--at the right price, of course. Beaver and Tim, after regaining their composure; slowly walked up the heavily pitted, concrete steps leading inside. The inner façade of the massive building was filled with mid-ancient murals of a time long past. There were faded paintings of smiling children, family picnics, and locomotive engineers tuning their steel horses; that adorned the yellowed walls. More than all of the vendors and wares, Beaver always liked looking at all of the works on the inner façade. Even but for a moment, they gave him hope that there could be life without the ruling Academy.
“ Are you coming ?! I can smell the Parv-bacon cooking …” Tim said in his usual high-strung way.
Beaver snapped back into his unwanted reality.
“ Oh … sure .” He said, following Tim to the makeshift cart where the aroma originated.
“ That’ll be 200 GP …” a scraggly sounding voice said with an outstretched metascanner.
“ 200! It was only 100 last decision day !” Tim demanded as he quickly retracted his hand. He always made it a point to frequent this particular vendor, however today
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