toes around them, and took a deep breath as I got ready for a big shock…But when I brought the wires together, all that happened was that the bed lifted up and let me go, and all the bunnies turned back into dust again.
Later
So it’s St. Clare’s Day today. I wouldn’t have known except I came into the El Dungeon and EVERYONE (except me and Raven) wason the phone. It’s normally not like that in here. But people weren’t having long conversations, either; they were dialing, leaving messages, hanging up, dialing.
M E :
Flathering bogyarks, what happened?
R AVEN :
Huuuhhh?
M E :
Why’s everyone on the phone? Did the White House blow up or something?
R:
Uhhhhh…Iono?
M E :
GAH. [Turning to HamHawk.] Why’s everyone on the phone? What happened?
H AM H AWK :
Hang on, I’m leaving voicemail. Hi, Mom. Just calling to wish you a happy St. Clare’s Day. And to tell you that I love you. And to thank you for all you do for me. OK, uh, see you tonight at dinner. [Hanging up.] Nothing happened. It’s St. Clare’s Day.
M E :
So, what, Clare is the patron saint of voicemail?
HH:
She’s the patron saint of phones, so no one is supposed to answer calls all day. Out of respect for her blessed sainthood.
M E :
But you’re all on the phone.
HH:
Not answering calls, though. Just leaving voicemail.
Like that makes any sense. But I’ll tell you what St. Clare’s Day accomplishes. Everyone is on the phone ALL DAY calling everyone in their address book, leaving them affectionate voicemails, listening to their own voicemails, sending reply voicemails to people they are glad to hear from, leaving even longer followup voicemails in reply to THOSE replies, and, in short, using the phone WAY MORE than any of them do on a normal day. Way to mess up a good idea.
Later
It’s been a pretty grim day so far. Can’t imagine what could have caused that. Maybe spending my day watching everyone else leave affectionate voicemails for their loved ones. How come no one has reported me missing? Do I really believe Raven killed my mother? WHERE ARE MY PEOPLE? Cannot stop wondering if I will ever remember my name or see my home again. Am trying to stay positive.
Am trying to talk myself out of hopping a random bus out of Blackrock.
Trying reeeeeeeeally hard.
Top 13 things in Blackrock:
Buses out of Blackrock.
Picture of imaginary black rock in all the official signage.
Police log in daily paper full of comedy. Today there was only one entry: “Homeowner in the 200 block of CoalAve. reported someone had entered his home and stolen a 5-gallon glass jug full of coins. The only other thing missing was a swig of whiskey.” I’m not kidding.
Sandwiches at the El Dungeon very tasty.
Police are easily bought off.
Local cats. Excellent!!!!
Lax security at auto impound lot.
Wastelands always visible in the distance.
Decent stars at night despite all the bright streetlamps.
Great Dumpster pickings.
School’s…out…forever! (For me, anyway.)
Plenty of unused back alleys for slinking around in.
That cozy, private, incredibly well-designed lean-to behind the El Dungeon, and that cool girl who lives in it.
Later
!!!!!!HAVE FOUND OUT MY TRUE IDENTITY!!!!!!
Must breathe. Breeeeeeeathe.
Will start from the beginning.
Had been doing some spying on Curls, who was spending the evening sitting alone at his table, trying to look very busy with voicemail, and instead looking very foolish. It seemed to me like he was only pretending to celebrate St. Clare’s Day like a local. I decided to go harass him a little.
M E :
You aren’t from around here, are you, boy?
C URLS :
Chaaa, you know I’m not. Do you mind? I’m leaving voicemail.
M E :
[Sitting down at his table.] How would I know that? C: Hi, Ümlaut, it’s me, Ripper. Hope
Later
So it’s St. Clare’s Day today. I wouldn’t have known except I came into the El Dungeon and EVERYONE (except me and Raven) wason the phone. It’s normally not like that in here. But people weren’t having long conversations, either; they were dialing, leaving messages, hanging up, dialing.
M E :
Flathering bogyarks, what happened?
R AVEN :
Huuuhhh?
M E :
Why’s everyone on the phone? Did the White House blow up or something?
R:
Uhhhhh…Iono?
M E :
GAH. [Turning to HamHawk.] Why’s everyone on the phone? What happened?
H AM H AWK :
Hang on, I’m leaving voicemail. Hi, Mom. Just calling to wish you a happy St. Clare’s Day. And to tell you that I love you. And to thank you for all you do for me. OK, uh, see you tonight at dinner. [Hanging up.] Nothing happened. It’s St. Clare’s Day.
M E :
So, what, Clare is the patron saint of voicemail?
HH:
She’s the patron saint of phones, so no one is supposed to answer calls all day. Out of respect for her blessed sainthood.
M E :
But you’re all on the phone.
HH:
Not answering calls, though. Just leaving voicemail.
Like that makes any sense. But I’ll tell you what St. Clare’s Day accomplishes. Everyone is on the phone ALL DAY calling everyone in their address book, leaving them affectionate voicemails, listening to their own voicemails, sending reply voicemails to people they are glad to hear from, leaving even longer followup voicemails in reply to THOSE replies, and, in short, using the phone WAY MORE than any of them do on a normal day. Way to mess up a good idea.
Later
It’s been a pretty grim day so far. Can’t imagine what could have caused that. Maybe spending my day watching everyone else leave affectionate voicemails for their loved ones. How come no one has reported me missing? Do I really believe Raven killed my mother? WHERE ARE MY PEOPLE? Cannot stop wondering if I will ever remember my name or see my home again. Am trying to stay positive.
Am trying to talk myself out of hopping a random bus out of Blackrock.
Trying reeeeeeeeally hard.
Top 13 things in Blackrock:
Buses out of Blackrock.
Picture of imaginary black rock in all the official signage.
Police log in daily paper full of comedy. Today there was only one entry: “Homeowner in the 200 block of CoalAve. reported someone had entered his home and stolen a 5-gallon glass jug full of coins. The only other thing missing was a swig of whiskey.” I’m not kidding.
Sandwiches at the El Dungeon very tasty.
Police are easily bought off.
Local cats. Excellent!!!!
Lax security at auto impound lot.
Wastelands always visible in the distance.
Decent stars at night despite all the bright streetlamps.
Great Dumpster pickings.
School’s…out…forever! (For me, anyway.)
Plenty of unused back alleys for slinking around in.
That cozy, private, incredibly well-designed lean-to behind the El Dungeon, and that cool girl who lives in it.
Later
!!!!!!HAVE FOUND OUT MY TRUE IDENTITY!!!!!!
Must breathe. Breeeeeeeathe.
Will start from the beginning.
Had been doing some spying on Curls, who was spending the evening sitting alone at his table, trying to look very busy with voicemail, and instead looking very foolish. It seemed to me like he was only pretending to celebrate St. Clare’s Day like a local. I decided to go harass him a little.
M E :
You aren’t from around here, are you, boy?
C URLS :
Chaaa, you know I’m not. Do you mind? I’m leaving voicemail.
M E :
[Sitting down at his table.] How would I know that? C: Hi, Ümlaut, it’s me, Ripper. Hope
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