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Jan. 15th, 2016


Jack & Clem: family reunion

Who: Jack P & Clem M
What: Family reunions and hard-bitten news. Or something.
When: Before Bennie-disappearance
Where: The newspaper office over Alexandria Books.
Warnings: Surly bad humor and snide catty commentary.

The newspaper offices were small. The entryway was to the right of the wide-plated windows of the bookstore and the stairs curled around the building possessively until they ejected you at the lip of a step up past a plate-glass door into the murky set of rooms that was the office. Small possibly excused the cramped nature of the place: a long trestle table ran down the middle of the room, laden with computers, printers, telephones, notepads, crumpled takeout cartons and coffee cups languishing in corners. There was a large, industrial printer shoved along the length of the wall to the immediate left on entering. It was partly responsible for the heat, and for the noise.

There was a notch of a kitchen carved out of the main rooms, and a bathroom door with a lopsided sign to the right. And at the very end of the room, blocked off by virtue of partition walls and a glass door with blinds slung so low they had clearly been torn to remain permanently down, the editorial office itself.

Jack's office was a nest of petty misery if not outright bebauchery. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned by anyone who knew the definition of the word in significant amounts of time, if not decades. There was a couch against the back-wall, which was leather and looked as if it had been on its last legs some distance ago and a heavy broad desk, much spread with more detritus. Buried behind and underneath and below all the shit, photographs could be dug out - there was one of a smiling, laughing redhead with her face tipped upward toward the camera. There was one of a sprawling yawn of a vista, all sand and dirt and fiercely blue sky. And one of a street-market in Ho Chi Minh city. There were no framed prints of newspaper column inches. No awards, save one that had missed the sweep and was propping up a corner of the desk.

Jack himself? Spread on his back on the couch, with a handful of papers and his eyebrows knit together in what might have been agony over prose or simply the hangover. The room smelled like cigarettes and coffee and spilled whiskey sodden into carpets. He had at least showered. But he was red-eyed and sleepless and furious with the state of the newspaper, not helped by the fact he refused to use more than three words at any one point in editing, lest it provoke what he now thought of as a curse.

Jan. 14th, 2016



someone gave me some wine.

really awesome red.

red wine.

you there?

Jan. 10th, 2016



After some consideration.]

You told me go ahead.


Clementine M, Sam A

[Locked to Clementine M]
how the fuck did it go?

[Locked to Sam A]
the fuck's up, Mug?

Jan. 8th, 2016


[locked to clem m]

Hey, Clem.

Jan. 6th, 2016



Tylenol PM and Red Bull does not require your judgment, little pharmacy clerk. I'm a doctor.

Dec. 27th, 2015


Rumballs. Thank you baby Jesus Santa for rumballs. You can eat them on the Eliptical.

Dec. 28th, 2015


[locked to clem m]

[After his Christmas present is returned.]

You know you don't need to sign, right? You don't even need to show. I just thought you'd want to be in the loop.

Dec. 27th, 2015


Sam A, Lou D, Clementine M

[Locked to Sam A]
you won't fucking believe it, yeah? I got a fucking coat with your name on it.

[Locked to Louis D]
I'll set an alarm by the fucking hour, so I remember to come fucking bother your ass.

[Locked to Clementine M]
real fucking funny, Peaches. have a fun fucking time with your bluenose?

Dec. 22nd, 2015



[Fuck it, yeah? On his newly received, very used laptop, and after delivering a tree. As Shane A:]

public fucking notice, yeah? no more fucking Christmas tree delivery.

Dec. 21st, 2015


Rory B

[Locked to Rory B]

Been to any churches recent, sugar?

Dec. 18th, 2015


Dane B, Clementine M

[Just after this, and while he waits at the bar.]

[Locked to Dane B]
You--Michael's back? Nono

Michael said he contacted you.

[Locked to Clementine M]
[After talking to Dane.]


Dec. 15th, 2015


[ OPEN to Mean-Eyed Cat Patrons]

Who: Grant, Cat, and whoever else.
What: Drinks and billiards. Super innocent stuff.
Where: Mean-Eyed Cat ("Good" Bar)
When: Evening. Recent.
Warnings/Rating: None yet.

The Mean-Eyed Cat was busy and crowded that night. There was a line for the pool table, short games and names scrawled at the bar. It smelled like hops, like cigarettes, and there was no rule about smoking inside there. The air was thick, and the music wasn't Christmas despite the chill in the air outside. No, keeping true to the bar's theme, the music had twang and soul, and the seats at the bar were all crowded together. People sat close, talked loud, and the bartender kept the drinks coming. The waitress wandered, taking orders from people on booths and in chairs, and the place was a warm kind of loud. A couple danced pressed together between bar and pool table, and nobody bothered them. The whole place had the feel of being just outside of real, an escape that didn't bother pretending to be anything but what it was. What happens at the Cat, stays at the Cat.

Grant was at the bar a few minutes after a non-existent whistle blew in a non-existent factory after a non-existent day in 1941, wondering where the time had gone and contemplating a beer that wouldn't get him drunk. He kept an eye out for his former compatriot, sparing a thought for her passing allegiances with the kind of speculative military calm that other people called "waiting." The people in this town had been friendly to a fault so far, and Grant had made a conscious effort to blend in, wearing a sweater and jeans (probably tailored a little too close because he had only worn them twice in his lifetime), and maybe it was strange to be in a bar without a crowd of men with tags around their necks.


[various, checking in]

[He has wandered into town, and he has seen the impossible date.]

[Clem M]

[After leaving about six messages on her phone.]

Clem, I need you to answer me, sweetheart. Did something happen? It's [...] anyway, I've got the date wrong, but I think I may have had a concussion?. Are you still here? [...] Did you leave?

[Reece E]

Are you in town yet?

[Dane B]

[...] All I can do is apologize for missing my arrival date. I don't know what to say. Just that I think I may have had some kind of [...] medical emergency. I would offer you an excuse, but I know how little it matters now.

Dec. 10th, 2015


Log: Penny and Clementine @ Bingo Night

Who: Penny Ross and Clementine Murphy
What: BINGO!
Where: Bringing booze to the rec center.
When: Tuesday
Warnings/Rating: This program has been rated S for Shenanigans.

Two blondes walk into a Bingo Hall )

Dec. 9th, 2015



[Coincidences are limited in towns like these, and people begin to talk after the same black dog makes a habit of showing up night after night. The dog operates a strange rotation, always seen by those that know when and where to look. So far, he's been regularly spotted sniffing around the music store and the strip club, sneaking into the back door of the B&B. And for those that have kept track, those paranoid enough to take note of strange dogs and their unusually timely habits? They might have noticed that the same dog has been seen stalking around the carnival and the motel every night after midnight.]

Dec. 8th, 2015




Stealing the baby Jesus from the Nativity scene in front of the church doesn't make for a good point, and it's not funny. If you have some issues you want to talk about, I'm here and I don't judge.

Also, recipients of certain wreath-shaped cookies, I apologize that salt and sugar look so similar. They won't taste like death next time.

Dec. 7th, 2015


B&B / Capitol City: Clementine and Ethan

Who: Clementine and Ethan
What: A drive to the city
Where: Starting at the B&B then on to Capitol City
When: after this
Warnings/Rating: Language at most probably

Ethan took a tiny bit of time getting ready, putting on a nicer shirt and a real pair of jeans rather than the sweats he had on for lounging around the house. It wasn't a great plan, but it was something to do that wasn't watching whatever reruns were on television. Plus, it also meant meeting new people and some long overdue shopping.

He hopped in the car, an Audi A3 that was definitely a gift from his father two years ago and headed towards the B & B, music playing. It wasn't as new as he would have liked, but it had most of the bells and whistles he wanted and since he wasn't the one paying for it, he knew not to complain. His father had a way of saying things like 'when you work you can pick out what you want' and the like, which wasn't something he wanted to start doing any time soon. He wasn't that old yet.

Rolling up to the little hotel, he slowed, rolling down the window and looking for the girl he was picking up. "Someone call a taxi?"

Dec. 6th, 2015



Anyone with a real nice car willing to give a gal a ride to the Capital? I reckon I'd rather male than female. Go on and tell me I ain't a feminist, but women are biting as fleas, and I ain't no exception.

Dec. 4th, 2015



I do hope this sort of fog is not a regular occurrence in this town.

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