Re-Story : Tales from the City 2 (of 2)

The snow swirls heavily around you. It is thick and heavy and cold. You have been out in the cold and the wind for far too long already. Suddenly you realize where you are and that a moment's comfort can be gained. Quickly you duck into the doorway and close the door behind you. Loudly you try to stamp the majority of the snow from your footwear rather than track it further into the building. From the inside of the building the snow outside falls in a pretty exuberate way. It's easy to appreciate it now that you are slightly detached from it. There is a faint smell of coffee in the hallway. It is a warm happy smell, particularly welcome considering the cold you feel. You move in the direction of the smell, towards the big open room at the end of the hall.



Once you reach the room you are unsurprised to see him there, the Keeper of the Tale. He sits on the couch in the corner of the room, sipping on a coffee. This time he sees you approach, no doubt having heard you stomp the snow from your feet. "Hallo," he says with a smile. "A bit horrid out today, isn't it? Would you care for a coffee? It's a bit strong, but it's fresh." You gratefully accept his offer and remove your jacket, dislodging snow from it as you do so. You make yourself comfortable on the couch. "Do you take anything in your coffee? Milk or sugar or something similar?" You request a splash of milk and some sugar. He brings you a small pot of sugar with the coffee mug. "I splashed the milk as requested. I hope it's to your satisfaction." You take a cautious sip. It is quite hot and strong. At least now you know how much sugar to add. 



As you stir your coffee he looks at you hopefully. "Would you care for a story with your coffee?" You can think of no good reason to resist but caution that you do have an appointment you are struggling to reach. Time is currently not short but you must still brave the weather and are unsure how long it will take you to reach your destination. He waves his hand confidently. "I have the very thing; another tale of our friends Douglas and Carmen. Just relax..." 





Douglas sighed loudly. "I weary of life. Tis nothing but a myriad of sad occurrences and is over far too quickly." 



Carmen gave his sad features a curious look. While she was well familiar with his ability to change moods on a whim this shift seemed unusual to her. It felt forced, unnatural even. A few moments ago, in the convenience store, he had been downright cheery and she could detect no logical reason for his change. "Nonsense," she replied. 



"What say you?" 



"Nonsense," she repeated.



"Really? What argument do you have to refute me?" 



"Rainbows." 



"Rainbows?" 



"Certainly. Rainbows aren't sad things. Therefore life cannot be solely sad things when rainbows exist." 



"Rainbows mean it's been raining. Rain is sad." 



"Ah, but the rainbow comes out when the rain is over. It's a happy thing. Besides, rain is a happy thing. It feeds the vegetation. It washes away the rubbish in the street. It leaves the land fresh and happy smelling." Douglas continued to sulk. Carmen looked at him with genuine concern. "Are you all right? Is your blood sugar low?" 



A low wicked chuckle erupted from a nearby park bench. There was no mirth in the sound. A bald man in a suit sat there looking thoughtful. "The young man finally sees the truth of this world. There is nothing worth doing, nothing worth attempting. Everything is worthless. Everything is failure. For instance, I have failed to affect you. Why should that be?" 



His wondering hit her like a slap to the face. "What have you done to him?" She could feel a pressure in her brain, an external force working to affect her. 



He stood up and focused on her. "I am the Philosopher. I ponder life. I can find nothing encouraging about it and I seek to share that truth with all." 



Carmen reeled under his assault of negativity. She chewed desperately on her lower lip, trying to focus past the emotion surrounding her. All see needed was a moment to catch her breath, a moment to fight back... 



Suddenly there it was like a beam of sunlight through the clouds. A moment without pain and suffering, a moment where her heart rose with joy. She smiled warmly. Her deep brown eyes opened and she directed her joy at the Philosopher. 



He staggered under the force of her counter attack. Somehow, just as he could broadcast his negative emotions, she could broadcast her positive emotions. He felt the need to strike back, to prove what he felt was true. It was difficult to do so. She looked so happy, so warm, with those gentle eyes and dusky skin and pretty hair...



He shook it off. Her level of attractiveness meant nothing. He gestured demonstratively. "Life is pain. Pain is truth!" 



Carmen staggered. He was stronger than she anticipated. Perhaps she couldn't defeat him. Perhaps he was right? No, that couldn't be but what could she do? 



Then she remembered and a plan formed in her mind. She opened her bag while she was still coherent, grabbed the item and flung it at him. Instinctively he caught it. "What?!?" 



"You can have it." Carmen smiled warmly at him, well aware that he was distracted and therefore more vulnerable to her emotion. "We can get another. They're great!" 



Hesitantly he unwrapped it and bit deep into the flaky crust. Immediately the tension dropped from his body. He relaxed. He even smiled. "This... this is wonderful!" 



Carmen grinned triumphantly. "Of course its wonderful; it's a Frosttess Fruit Pie." 



He made a yummy noise after taking a second bite. "Apple pie filling! Life is wonderful."



Douglas shook off the last of the negative influence from which he'd been suffering. "What happened?" 



"Nothing much. I just got to spread some happiness, that's all." 



"Is he eating my fruit pie? Life IS pain." 



"Don't worry, we can get you another."

Douglas cheered. 



The Philosopher smiled at them. "I have a whole new outlook on life thanks to you and thanks to Frosttess Fruit Pies!"


You are very happy about the fact that you've finished your coffee as it is well past time you were going. The Keeper smiles at you. "Of course, there is a moral to this story: Everybody likes pie!" Your head drops and you shake your head in disbelief. That's a moral? 



It's time to go and you get up to put on your jacket. The Keeper looks concerned. "Should there be another moral perhaps, one that I missed?" He starts to ponder this while you make a break for the door. The snow still falls heavily outside but, for some reason, it comes as a relief to be out in the snow as opposed to inside with the Keeper of the Tale.


Re-Story : Tales from the City 1 (of 2)

Your shoes make noise as you walk down the linoleum covered hallway. This rather defeats the concept of wearing sneakers. Sneakers should provide you with the ability to sneak and therefore should remain silent. Since the temperature outside is well below freezing it appears that your shoes have frozen up to noise generating levels. Luckily you are not trying to sneak up on anyone so this is not a significant problem.

The hallway with its many doors opens up into a large open room, the sort of place that could be an activity room in a group room or a cafeteria in a school. There a few scattered tables and chairs, a battered couch facing a full entertainment centre in the corner and a number of bookshelves. Light streams into the area through the windows giving the room a gentle warmth that is particularly welcome after the cold of the outdoors. Your shoes echo louder in the larger room. There is a man on the far side of the room. You head towards him.

As you grow nearer to him, you notice a number of things about this man. One is that he seems very unaware of your presence. Another is the fact that he is dancing with more energy than ability. The third is that he is singing, tunelessly. “Cigareetes and whiskey and wild, wild women! They drive ya crazy, they drive you insane.” He is still unaware of your presence likely due to the earphones in his ears. While unwilling to frighten him, he is the individual you came to see. Politely you tap him on the shoulder.

He jumps visibly and his eyes widen in surprise. Once he sees you, he relaxes and smiles. The earphones are roughly removed from his ears and the small player they are attached to is shut off. “Ah, there you are. I was wondering where you were. Is anyone with you?” You shake your head no. His expression drops slightly. “What a pity. It’s been a bit lonely here of late. Still, you’re here and that’s what’s important. Are you here for a story?” To this you nod. “Excellent! Excellent, excellent, excellent.” He continues to mutter “Excellent” evidently using the moment to think. “Perhaps the story of the Case of the Red Bellied Brainiac? Or better yet the Clones of Napoleon. The Time Emily Kissed a Frog?” Politely you inform him that you don’t have much time at the moment. You mostly stopped by to say hello and only have time for a short story at best. He is obviously disappointed. “Oh well, if that’s the case, then that’s the case. I guess I’ll have to save Hell Comes to Irish Fest for another day then.” He taps his chin for a moment and then brightens. “I have the very thing. Just relax for a moment and listen to this…”


“I’m bored,” Douglas noted aloud. “I was thinking that perhaps you should kill me.”

This statement made Carmen’s eyebrows rise in surprise. It did not affect her pace in any way and they continued to walk. “I beg your pardon?” Douglas repeated his statement. “I must admit that I fail to see how that would eliminate your boredom.”

“Well, I was thinking that I could come back from the dead and then figure out how you killed me.”

“So I should surprise you?”

“Certainly. It wouldn’t be interesting otherwise.”

“I see. How were you planning to come back from the dead?”

“Ah. I hadn’t figured that part out yet.”

“It would see to be an important part of your plan to have worked out in advance.”

“This is true.”

“Primarily because death holds the possibility for greater boredom than what you’re currently experiencing.”

“And it wouldn’t be any fun unless I knew I was coming back. It would definitely defeat the purpose of the plan if I couldn’t come back.”

A mighty rush of wind from just above their heads attracted their attention. The gust settled in front of them and formed the shape of a moderately overweight middle-aged man. He faced them and laughed. “Ah! Douglas, my arch-enemy!”

“I have an arch-enemy?” Douglas questioned. “I’m touched.” He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye.

“Laugh all you want fool for this is the day that I, Captain Trouble, will finally be rid of you!”

Douglas looked at Carmen. Carmen looked at Douglas. Both raised an eyebrow to the other. They returned their attention to Captain Trouble. Douglas coughed gently. “Oh really?”

“Yes! Really!” He smirked confidently and removed a small rock from his pocket. “Look upon my power and weep! For now I am augmented by the energy of the Titan Gem!”

“You have a rock from the moon of Saturn?” Carmen questioned. “That is interesting and neat. Cool even.”

Captain Trouble smiled. “Thank you. It wasn’t easy to get and it’s nice of you to appreciate the effort, especially since I’m planning to dispose of you both!”

“Whenever did you get it?” she asked.

The Captain returned to smirking. “Oh, I’m afraid I couldn’t disclose information like that, even considering you won’t be another much longer to put the information to good use.”

Douglas frowned. “You got it from the Mystic Duke, didn’t you?”

Captain Trouble shook like a bowl of jelly in surprise. “How did you know?” he blurted.

“Just a hunch. Mostly the way the rock is glittering.”

“What do you mean? It’s supposed to glitter.”

“Oh, I see it too,” Carmen noted.

“See? See what?”

“It’s the wrong colour of glisten. It should be a silvery colour and it has a golden tint to it. The Mystic Duke has been selling a bunch of those rocks of late.”

“He what?”

Carmen nodded in agreement. “That’s not a Titan Gem. It doesn’t even have any power. The only way you can use that as a weapon would be to throw it at someone. In fact, I recommend throwing it at the Duke for ripping you off.”

“That fink! I’ll do just that.” He gave them both a stern look. “I’ll be back to deal with you lot later.” Captain Trouble flew away angry.

Douglas and Carmen watched him go. “Somehow I knew he’d never tested it after buying it,” Carmen noted.

Douglas nodded. “I like the idea you gave him to throw it. Those things are highly volatile.” As if to prove his point, there was an explosion in the distance and the faint sound of a mild vulgarity breezed by. “I’m so glad he’s not clever.” His face brightened suddenly. “Oh, I know, let’s get soft pretzels!”

“Sounds good to me.”

And they walked off to find soft pretzels.


You get up from the chair and his face drops. “Must you leave so soon?” Once again you nod. “So be it. But take the lesson from my story with you when you go: Better a rock in the hand than a rock in the head.” You shake your head and groan slightly as you turn to walk away. He tries again as you head for the hallway. “He who hesitates is a putz? If you name yourself Trouble, you’re just asking for it? Honest, most of the other stories are better!” His voice fades, thankfully, into the distance as you exit the building and reenter the cold. Perhaps you’ll come back for another story another day.

Or perhaps not.

Museum Talk

I've been sorting the newspaper clippings part of the Archive and came across some information I'd forgotten. So, today we get another of my infrequent discussions of the Milwaukee Public Museum!

For the record, I didn't uncover most of this information on my own. It's been collected from the 'Streets of Old Milwaukee' audiotour as well as different articles from the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. Some of this is just memories I'm pulling from my head. I'd probably do even better but I haven't been there in a couple months.

- The material that makes up the street in the exhibit was from an actual Milwaukee street in the late 1800s. It was named Buffalo St and was on the east side.

- The telephone poles in the exhibit are wrapped in wire. This is to prevent horses from chewing on them.

- Granny's house is at the first corner you come to in the exhibit. The card in her window is flipped from 25 to 50. This is to indicate how many pounds of ice she wants for her icebox. She has gone up to 50 because her granddaughter is currently staying with her.

- Above the optometrist's office is an apartment decked out in a lot of red. It belongs to a *cough* lady of the evening. This apartment is a replica of a room from one of Miss Kitty's (not a Gunsmoke reference, that was the madam's name) two establishments. While it's clearly a lady's bedroom from most of the decorations, a man's hat hangs from the hatstand. Saucy!

- While you're on the balcony, peering into the apartment, turn around and check out the photographer's studio behind you. The photographer's camera may flash at you. I say 'may' because it doesn't seem to always be turned on.

- At one point in my youth, there was a 'telephone' attached to the wall just past Granny's house and near the optometrist. Picking up the phone let you listen to a 'conversation' discussing events of the day and how shockingly high prices have become. According to the video I around late 1992/early 1993, it was gone by then.

- Down past the tavern and the restaurant, near the pharmacy, sits a phone booth. I remember this having a policeman in it, making a call. He's been gone for awhile now. I kinda miss him.

Looks like I'm going again next week. You have been warned. :) Now where's that video I took from this summer?

More fascinations from the Archive

Before there were comic books for me, there were comic strips, the newspaper type. Daily delivery of art and humour. Or story. Love them. As per everything else I became interested in, it became a fascination and the history of the medium interested me. Like movies, old radio shows, and television shows, I read about strips I had no expectation of ever seeing. If nothing else, I have this reason to love my life: all those things I thought I would never be able to see, hear, or read, well, a bunch of them are available somehow these days. And that's great. Don't get me wrong, I've got all sorts of reasons to love life but fullfilling the dreams of Young Steve is always a good one.

I got to some of those parts of the Archive this week; the newspaper strip collections, not the dreams of Young Steve part. A lot of those Peanuts books I had to sort through? I've got better printed, more complete reprints now. Makes it a little easier to let go. I've got a lot of Beetle Bailey books as well. I think that's a combination of my Dad's interest in war films and the fact that Goodwill used to have piles of them for a dime apiece when I was a kid. It's always easier to collect what's available to you. I do enjoy them but my familiarity with the strip means that I can often tell when Mort Walker is repeating himself. One volume of a mighty reprint of the strip has begun and I hope it continues.

They've started nice reprints of the original Dick Tracy series which means that I might be able to rid myself of some of the other Tracy reprint books I have. There's some nice Gasoline Alley reprints now, Popeye era Thimble Theatre, Terry and the Pirates... the heart swells.

The rough part about digging in the Archive is that I see the gaps. I'm missing For Better or Worse books, Fox Trot, Dilbert. At least I have all the Bloom County, even if those aren't comprehensive reprints.

I've got some clipped strips. There's also some newspapers I've retained in some state. For those who remember the older Milwaukee Journal, I've got some Green Sheets yet. The Journal used to print the comics section on green paper in order to make it easily identifiable.

It's hard to read the comics these days, in our local paper anyway. The strips are printed so small. At least most are reproduced online as well. Comics used to sell papers. Now papers don't even sell papers. Things change and that's not always a bad thing.

And the comics are still there.

Series 4 Reviews - continued

'Midnight'

I hadn't expected a script from Russell T. Davies this late in the series that's not directly related to the big wrap-up story that has been ending each series of late. I wasn't sure what to expect from the 'next time' trailer so I just sat back and watched.

What I got was an effective look at how people react to one another, especially in times of crisis. I could see the parallels to a number of different situations in recent history and how panic can drive humans. I thought it creepy and 'real' in its own way. The reactions were real. You know what I mean. Disturbing but real.

The trailer had lead me to think of a 'disaster movie' type story which made me realize two things: (1) that's what the Christmas special 'Voyage of the Damned' was and (2) that was a storyline I had in mind at one point and never developed. Weird that 'Voyage' didn't trigger that memory but the trailer for 'Midnight' did. Now Russell's managed to rip off a story from me that I never wrote. Get out of my head!

Kidding. We all know he's not in my head. He's just been visiting my Doctor in a U.N.I.T. hospital and writing his adventures before I can. Which is more annoying than anything else...

The very idea stings

I'm getting into some of the deeper areas of the Archive now, some areas that have barely been touched on in years. I realized something yesterday, something which drove chills down my spine.

I may have to throw out some books.

When I say 'throw out' I do mean 'recycle' but I don't mean 'sell' or 'give away'. The ones I'm seeing are mostly old Peanuts collections that I re-read to a point where they were falling apart years ago when I stored them. It doesn't feel right to throw out a book but if it must be done, it must be done.

Sigh.

This is actually not a 'I have too many books' comment although the statement probably does apply. I love books. I think it's part of the reason I want to be a published author. It would be like giving back in a way.

Money would be nice as well. Wouldn't hurt anyway.

Not quite time travel

The offer of a tour of my old high school + 'being' the Doctor + a late night trip to Taco Bell = dream time.

I'm at school, walking up the split center staircase from the second floor to the third. I wonder if I just came from the auditorium? As I walk, I glance down at myself. I'm dressed as the Season Doctor was in 'Time for a Change'. Weird; he was never at school. I feel like I'm late for class so I pick up the pace.

I get to the next floor but it feels like I'm on the 4th floor instead of the 3rd. It might be the 3rd. I lean in towards the classroom I'm heading for, directly across from the stairway doors (where no classrooms sit in real life). It's busy. I don't go in, choosing to wander north down the hallway, pondering over something I found in my pocket. It should be explaining the situation I'm in but I can't really read it. The halls fill with young people. The bell must have rung.

I return to the classroom. I poke my head inside to confirm I should be there before entering. The teacher looks a bit like my middle school Spanish teacher mixed with ... someone. This is an English class I think. I apologize for not being around, sounding very Doctor-like as I do so and take a seat. I review the pending assignments on the board and try to get comfortable. Some of these should be easier than when I was in class (review a case by Perry Mason? What?).

An unfamiliar looking young man (actually, he looked a little like the one fellow from Peter and Gordon, whichever one had the glasses) sits next to me. He appears to be happy to see me and starts assisting me in reviewing the papers sitting before me on the desk. I recognize them as papers from my Archive and grow concerned.

Then I wake up.