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Another BigCloset TopShelf story.
Our heroine meets a smooth-talking pilot, gets an update from her sugar-addicted friend Mel, attends a dance and learns something that shocks her, her singing 'hobby' continues to grow and Peepers's pin-up poster scheme picks up steam.
Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?
Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction
This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but since it's fan fiction, who cares? To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either Sapphire's Place,
(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."
This is still sort of first my attempt a TG/sci-fi piece, thought every day in every way I’m getting better and better. Constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This is for fun and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe, take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents is for purposes of humor or parody, which saves my butt. Love the fair use doctrine. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. See my agents 86 and 99 of Control. Get 20% off if you tell our contact, “Pussycat pussycat where have you been?” Offer good at any wharfside dive or biker bar.
Timeout 2
By John from Wauwatosa
Chapter 10-It’s not a Date it’s a Dance! $59.95 for the Life Size
Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, Des Moines IA — February 17-18, 2007
February 18, 2007 somewhere over Illinois, 5PM
Writing this on my charter back to Dunwich is difficult, so much to say, so little time to say it. The dance was far more fun than I imagined and far more complicated. Confusing isn’t it dear d/j/w.? I went in to it with a particular set of expectations and came out of it having experienced something entirely different. Still not certain reader, neither am I, but I’m working on it. It started out clear and simple, then gradually... let me describe what happened, and you can figure it out for yourself, then would you explain it to me please!
* * * *
February 17, 2007, 10AM CDT
Here I am dear d/j/w about to land in Iowa for a dance with a fourteen year old boy. Strange but I’m looking forward to it; more of my lost girlhood? Got up early, 5am, nerves I guess, took a five mile run, showered, dressed, got an early breakfast at the Crystal Hall, then loaded my overnight bag, my notebook computer — how else could I be entering this now — carefully tied down my dress bag and accessories and rode to the local airfield where the private charter jet would meet me. The pilots were surprised to see such a young woman waiting for them, but they been well paid, and after the captain checked my credentials, all went smoothly. They’d arrived on time; we loaded up, tied the cycle down securely and took off. After we leveled off, the copilot came into the main cabin.
“Comfortable, miss?”
He smiled a bit too warmly for my tastes. I knew the reputation of pilots from all those old films and TV.
~Don’t tell me he’s thinking of picking me up? Nah, that’s too cliché. ~
“Just a little nervous, I’ve only flown a few times and only twice in a plane this small.” He turned on the charm.
~Then maybe it’s not. ~
“Where to, miss?”
“Hawaii with my Dad and Sister a while ago; LA and back last December.”
“LA was the charter jet then, there on business? You look like a fashion model; you’re certainly tall enough and most attractive.”
~Does he think a line like that works? ~
He was pouring it on. I caught a glimpse of the captain glancing back and shaking his head.
~It looks like he’s pulled this act before. ~
“I was on a TV show, I sing a little.” He looked confused now.
“You seem familiar, but I can’t quite place you.” He changed tactics. “That’s sure an old Harley you’ve got there. What year?”
~Ah, get the girl to talk about herself, so you can act all enthusiastic about her interests. ~
“1915 with original racing team parts; Jay got a kick riding it before the show.” His smile dropped, I think he realized he was hitting on the wrong girl.
“Jay?”
“The guy with that big network late night TV show, you’d love him. I had a great time.” I smiled sweetly. This was fun.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
“Joan Brown, but everybody calls me Joanie. You didn’t recognize me? Aaawh!” I pouted. “Isn’t it time you get back in the cockpit? Um, what was it you wanted to ask me?” I said with a predatory gleam in my eye.
“Sorry, I think I’m needed up front.”
~Darn, I spooked him. ~
I thought I heard the captain say something like, “I told you so.”
~Um, what did he mean by ‘up front?’ Oh! ~
* * * *
Arrived in Des Moines, unloaded, confirmed the return charter and rode off to Terrace Hill. The guard at the gate was different than the last time; she recognized me, quickly checked my ID — just to be prudent - and waived me in, smart girl. I suspect Bob had something to do with that. She must have called ahead because Mel burst out of the Mansion and ran out to greet me.
I hardly recognized her; she’d changed so much in the three months since I’d last seen her. We’d talked on the phone back in December, so I knew she was in a major growth spurt but seeing her in person was different. She was at least an inch taller than in November and developing serious curves -- this was no girl anymore.
“Joanie, oh my Ghod, you brought your motorcycle -- this is so kewl you look so pretty and well sexy -- I can say sexy can’t I, Joanie? I mean you’re my bestest friend, and all my brother will just go crazy when he sees you -- you’re just so... oh I wish I was as pretty as you.”
She was grinning widely and acting the excited girl; but I could see she’d been growing like a new born colt. She was still skinny overall but had such long legs under those tapered blue jeans she wore and her cleavage was obvious. Her face was no longer that of a child but of a young woman on the edge of adulthood. She would soon be the envy of her peers, I thought.
“Mel, let me take a look. My word you look lovely; I can’t call you a girl anymore -- you’re too much a lady now. What are you now; I mean how big are you, Mel?”
“Joanie, it’s a dream come true, I’m growing up so fast. Okay, I’m 5 foot 7 almost 8, I weigh 98 pounds and I’m almost a B cup. I wear real ladies bras and panties now, and Mom bought me some pretty ones with lace. And, Joanie, I’m a real woman now, I just had my first period. It was so messy, and I had such awful cramps and felt miserable. It was wonderful!” She gave me a big hug.
~That’s one for the books, she liked it? I knew what she meant though. ~
“Whoa, Woman, welcome to the club. I only became a tampon carrying member last August.” Mel giggled girlishly, but the pitch was lower and more teenaged than I remembered. “Your Mom gave you ‘The Talk’ Mel?”
“Oh, about not letting boys stick their penis in my vagina ‘cause I could get pregnant or sick? Mom told me that a over year ago, and Dad did again right after my you know.”
“When did you have your first one?’
“I just finished yesterday. I feel so happy I could burst, Joanie.”
“I’m happy too, just be careful please it’s your body, don’t let some smooth talker take advantage of you and trick you into sex before you’re ready. You’re so pretty already, believe me, Mel, I used to be a guy, and the old me says you’re a real fox.” Mel blushed, a blush not a giggle.
“Honest, Joanie, the old you thinks I’m hot?” she seemed a bit confused but happy.
“Not that I would ever do anything to harm you as me then or now, but yah, you’re very pretty and sexy and getting more so by the day. Knowing what your Mom and Dad look like, in a couple of years you’ll be a real stunner; you could steal my boyfriend, honest, Mel, you’re that pretty now.”
Her smile grew so wide I was afraid her head would fall off. She gave me another big hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you, Joanie, you make me so happy, you really are my bestest... my best friend. Bestest is for girls, we’re ladies now, so you’re my best friend. And don’t you be mean to Eric, he may be a boy, but he’s my brother and well, I love him.”
~Where did that come from? ~
“Best friend or not, you’ll always be my bestest friend.” She smiled back at me. “Let’s go see Romeo, Mel. Don’t worry, I really do want to do to this dance with Eric; I’m not trying to play a joke on him. I think my inner girl wants to make up for what she’s missed, and Eric is a nice young man. He has to be -- he’s your brother.“
* * * *
I didn’t tell her what my inner girl wanted to do with Eric, hell I didn’t want to know. We had slowly been working our way up to the private quarters on the fourth floor when Babs showed up followed closely by Eric. Babs was starting to show seriously, her belly swollen, and her normally ample breasts grown voluptuous. Eric had changed greatly since I’d last seen him, the skinny awkward boy of September was 6 foot 1inch and145 pounds, showing signs of muscle and a more than slight bulge in his...
~Oh my! Am I having that effect on him? ~
He’d also been shaving since Christmas, Mel told me.
“Hi, Joanie, welcome to my home, how do you like my four children?” Mel and Eric gasped.
“Don’t worry, Babs, I mean your Mom, told me she’s having twins. You two will have such fun spoiling them.”
Eric spoke. “I’m so glad you came, Joanie. I had to turn down Kathryn and Diana because you asked me.”
He looked me in the eyes as he spoke, that look did things to me I had not expected. He spoke again, and the spell was broken.
“Kathryn and Diana?” I asked.
“Two of the prettiest girls in his class,” Babs said, Mel nodded her head in agreement. “But Eric said this nice girl had said yes, and he had to be faithful.”
“I’m so happy, Eric, that was very honorable. I know you’re only fourteen, but I’m glad to go to the dance with you, honest, Eric. You’re a very handsome young man you know.”
I gave him a hug. Eric blushed, but his trousers declared his true feelings. The inner girl lurking in my mind was very pleased; she and Ms. Libido conspired to hijack my brain, why else did I say what I said next?
“If you find another girl I’ll understand, but I’d like the chance to be considered, Eric.” I held his hand and kissed him lightly on the lips.
“Ththank you, Joanie, Ah... I have to go, see you later, okay?” He ran off, I think he needed relief as he moved stiffly.
“He’s all hormones now, huh, Babs?” I asked.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Babs replied.
Bits of me were getting stiff too or wet.
~Ms. Libido and my inner girl are not playing fair, damn them. ~
* * * *
I spent the rest of the day catching up with Mel on what had a happened with her and her friends. ‘The Joanie Collection’ now took up two bookcases and half her room. She been scanning the newspaper and magazine articles she’d saved and taking photos of her other Joanie stuff to up load to her web page. Her friend Lisa was helping her found an Official Joanie fan club and web site, with their mothers’ permission. I planned to give Mr. Karaoke a call after the weekend and request Warner’s cooperate with the girls or else. They were after me to do more publicity, and I kept turning them down, this might mollify them.
The last part of the afternoon I bathed then dressed in that wondrous outfit of Cecilia’s for the dance. A gold necklace, diamond earrings, matching bracelets and Mel’s silver ponytail clip from last September topped it off. A little makeup, and I was ready, I looked about 16 except for my ample chest, but I couldn’t hide that. I may have dressed fairly demure, but I knew I was still a teen’s wet dream. I hoped I wouldn’t embarrass Eric.
~Oh Ghod, I think I like him. What did I say to you, Ms. Libido, about this sort of behavior? Stay, good Libido. Inner girl, I’m watching you, behave. ~
I left my guest suite and entered the main fourth floor lobby. Babs saw me and smiled.
“That’s perfect, Joanie, Eric will be the envy of his class.”
“I hope I haven’t overdone this?”
“Don’t worry my son will love you.” I smiled at her approval.
Eric came out of his room in a spiffy sport coat, dress shirt, tie, dress slacks and shoes. He looked about 18 to me, a skinny 18, but you know.
~If he ever looks as handsome as his Dad, I’m lost. Why won’t my hormones give me a break? ~
My inner girl and Ms. Libido were giving each other high fives. Eric met me with his Mom and Dad, his parents looked at me, then he, and I saw them nod.
~Well here goes. ~
“Eric, will you do me the honor of accompanying me to the dance?” I know traditionally the boy asks the girl, but I’m not traditional.
“Mmy ppleasure, Joanie,” he croaked out in a half stutter while nervously looking me in the eyes.
~Oh my, he’s so sweet and good looking. Ghod, look at that smile, he has such dark, blue eyes, and he’s only fourteen -- what are you thinking girl? I’m going out with a fourteen year old, am I crazy? ~ Part of my mind said.
Another part said, ~Go with the flow and have fun. ~
Yet another part said, ~What a young hunk you’ve caught, woman, ride him hard and put him away wet, Gee Haw!~
I’m beginning to appreciate how Sybil felt.
* * * *
We got in a government limo, and an Iowa State trouper drove us to Eric’s school and the dance. We were quiet during the short ride -- all I remember is Babs and Bob holding hands and smiling, and Eric leaning towards me with his mouth slightly open, eyes locked on mine, the look in his reminding me of a deer in the headlights.
When we arrived, I took Eric’s arm, and we walked in. His classmates stared at us like we were royalty. When they realized who Eric was with, the kids gradually went silent. The guys looked at me with lust, and Eric with respect, even awe. The girls looked at me with envy, and at Eric like he was suddenly out of their league. Eric had just gone way up in class status.
The music started, and we didn’t care -- we just danced, Eric moved well for a guy. Being a school dance, most were ones you danced separately, no close stuff. I found myself enjoying it immensely, just letting go and living for the moment, rather like how a felt when singing. Eric impressed me, he didn’t try to show off or act like I was his girl in some possessive way. Every time I looked his way, he looked me in the eyes or looked at the whole me, he never once stared at my chest like so many of the other boys and in this dress I was impressive.
~They seem to, um ... project more than the last time I tried on this dress, and it does seem a tad tighter fit, maybe I ate more today? ~
As the evening wore on, Eric was looking better and better. We’d talked a little between dances and were both fairly comfortable with each other.
After an hour or two Eric asked, “Hungry, Joanie?”
I wasn’t terribly hungry, but he’d asked politely, and I was a little thirsty so we went and got some snacks. As we ate, I could see Eric looking me over very intensely, he spoke carefully.
“Joanie, I want to thank you again for coming. I was afraid this was a joke between you and Mel, I’m glad it’s not.” I smiled, his smile was electric.
“I’m glad too, Eric. Um... before this gets too mushy, you want to dance again?”
“Let me use the men’s room first, meet me here, okay?”
A couple bolder kids wandered over and talked with me. They knew I was friends with the Johnson family but were surprised I was Eric’s date.
“And why not, he’s a very good looking young man.” I emphasized “man.” “It’s not like I’m his girlfriend, but he’s a lot of fun to dance with. I know were both here just to dance and have fun and all, but I’m very glad I came. He’s really quite nice.”
I could feel a smile spread on my face as I thought about Eric and those eyes of his.
~Gees, did I just think of Eric in that way? He’s only fourteen, get a grip, Girl. But he’s very handsome for a young man and the way he looks at you... I have got to get some control here, my inner girl and Ms. Libido are not playing nice tonight. I need a distraction. ~
“Joanie, I couldn’t help overhear what you said to those girls. That was sweet what you said about Eric,” Babs said as walked over to me.
I suddenly felt guilty, and I realized why. “Babs, I meant what I said and it scares me. I’m glad I’m leaving town tomorrow, I’m worried I might be... well... attracted to your son. It’s this damn body of mine, I find my tastes are getting more and more like a teenage girl the longer I’m like this. What do I do, Babs?”
I was fighting back tears but wasn’t successful. Eric came back; when he saw me crying, he looked concerned.
“What’s wrong, Joanie; did someone do something to hurt you? It wasn’t me?” I cried harder, Babs spoke up as I was practically sobbing.
“No, Eric, just a female problem,” Babs explained.
Ah, the universal excuse for all occasions, remember it, girls, it’s a vital tool in your arsenal.
* * * *
“Come with me, Joanie, and we’ll get you fixed up.” She led me to a quiet women’s room, and we sat on a bench. She gave me a hug and I calmed a little. “Am I glad I’m sitting, all that standing is getting hard now with my pregnancy. Speaking of that, is it your time, Joanie? Forget again? Or is it something else?” I felt a cramp.
~Not that too? ~
“It’s both, excuse me.” I ran to a stall just in time, after a minute or so the cramp eased. “Um Babs, could I borrow an um... you know... a...?” That’s one part of being a girl I didn’t have down pat.
“Sure, I always carry some, even when it isn’t my time.”
She handed me a tampon and panty liner under the door. At least that problem was under control; I left the stall and walked to the sinks.
“You okay now, Joanie?”
“Yes and no. Thanks for the female stuff, that’s better for now. It’s me -- that’s the problem. Here I am 49 years old and think I’m falling for a fourteen year old boy.”
I started crying again. Babs sat me down and held me like a hurting daughter.
“No wonder you’re upset, between your transformation, your period and all that’s happened to you the last year, you have every right to cry. I heard about your assault at Whateley, Sara said it was only because of your mutant abilities you recovered without any physical scars, but emotionally I can see it’s still bothering you.“ I slowed to sniffles.
“Babs, he’s fourteen, it’s so wrong!” I started sobbing again.
“Joanie look at me, what do you see?”
“I... I... I see a mother in her glory. Pregnancy agrees with you.” My crying slowed.
“What else do you see?”
“Someone who should be angry with me but isn’t.” My crying stopped.
“Why should I, Joanie? You know what I see, I see a frightened young woman. I don’t think you look more than fifteen except for those gravity deifiers you’ve got.” She smiled wickedly, and I giggled.
“There’s the proof, Joanie, you even laugh like a girl. What’s the old saying, if it looks like a duck and walks like a duck and quacks like a duck it’s a duck? Joanie, you look, sound, act and even think like a girl. So you’re technically older than Eric. In a few years he’ll look as old or older than you. By the time he’s in college, he’ll look like he’s dating a high school girl if you’re still together. If you like him enjoy the feelings. Just go slow for a few years for legal reasons, but otherwise you have my blessing. Mel had the right idea; I can see you as my daughter-in-law in the not so distant future. Anyway, I’m an only child and so is Bob, John and Joan will need an aunty.”
“We’re not registering at Nordstrom’s are we, Babs?” She laughed, and I laughed, okay, I giggled — satisfied -?
“Not quite yet, Aunty Joanie, let’s get you cleaned up, Eric must be awfully worried.”
“Hell, poor Eric! Help me put myself back together; I can’t spoil his dance.”
* * * *
We came out together, we’d been in there over twenty minutes, and Eric looked worried. Then we both smiled at him, and he cheered up immediately.
“What was wrong with Joanie?” He couldn’t look me in the eyes.
~Has he been crying? How sweet. Oh Ghod, I do like him that way. ~
“Honey, you should ask Joanie yourself, just give her some time, okay? Let’s say she had some unresolved issues, and it was her time as a woman, so her emotions got the better of her.”
“It wasn’t me?” Eric asked.
“No dear, it’s rather complicated, but you did nothing to upset Joanie. In fact, she told me she really likes you.”
“Babs!”
“Mom!”
“And what’s wrong with a pretty girl liking you, Eric? Now go out there and have some fun, Kids!” Babs said half laughing, half exasperated.
I pulled myself together, and we danced. After a couple songs I was feeling pretty good, my emotions had settled down. Then the music stopped.
“Eric, I can’t say it enough, I’m glad I came tonight.”
“I’m too, Joanie.”
I grabbed his hand, leaned closer and kissed him on the cheek lightly. His face turned so red. I gave him a quick hug then broke away sticking my tongue out. My inner girl was ecstatic; Ms. Libido was behaving herself for the moment. I think I was in bouncing mode.
“Want to dance some more, Eric?” I asked, swaying ecstatically back-and-forth.
“Huh, sure but don’t we need some music?”
“Wonder why they stopped... Oh no, Eric, they wouldn’t?”
“What’s wrong, Joanie?”
“He’s what’s wrong.”
I pointed to a well dressed man I’d first seen at Mel’s birthday party. He was up front standing near the school principal and the DJ.
“Wasn’t he at Mel’s birthday party running the Karaoke machine?”
“He was and it’s worse, he’s my record producer.”
I tried to lead Eric to the back of the gym, away from the men. Too late, they’d seen me.
“Young ladies and gentlemen,” the principal said through the sound system. “We have a special treat tonight; the vice president for new talent at Warner records is with us tonight with their latest recording.” Mr. Karaoke stepped to the microphone.
“It won’t be officially released until Monday, but as the artist is here tonight,” the crowd gasped, they knew who he meant, “and won’t be attending her premier, here I am.”
~Please let there be a power failure, I’ve been a good girl, mostly. ~
“I’m so sorry, Eric, I didn’t know.” I said burying my face in my hands.
“It’s okay, Joanie,” he said grabbing both hands and smiling.
~Oh, that smile does things to me. Thank Ghod I’m having my time, otherwise...~
My inner girl and Ms. Libido were doing ‘the wave.’
“Most of the songs were recorded during her recent appearance on late night TV. I’m sure this will be another hit for her,” said Mr. Karaoke, I wanted to hide. “Without further ado, here’s the premier of our latest release, ‘Time has Come Again’; let’s listen to Joanie,” he said the evil word, my name. I wanted to die.
“Eric, this was supposed to be your night, I’m so sorry.” I was close to tears.
“What are you sorry for, Joanie, this is way kewl!”
~Oh dear, it’s genetic. ~
“Mel will have a fit when she learns I was at your record premier, and she wasn’t.”
~Well that wasn’t what I expected. ~
They played the whole album straight though; I was very confused. I was upset at Warners for disturbing the dance, yet the kids loved it. They were dancing and listing and having a great time. Many came and told me how much they liked it. I was forced to admit I did have some serious talent, and that made me happy and sad all at once.
Lastly Eric was dancing and enjoying the music, but mostly he was enjoying being with me. The look on his face and in his eyes was both frightening and flattering, I think he realized that he did have a chance with the tall, pretty girl, and he got serious about it. It was late; the dance would end in half an hour when my producer went up to the microphone.
“Wasn’t that great?” They applauded loudly, I was embarrassed and elated. “There is one last song on the album, but as she is here tonight, how about we ask Joanie to sing it live?”
I hid behind Eric, none too successfully with all that bright hair of mine giving my position away like a hunters blaze orange coat. Eric escorted me to the front.
“Eric, no, please!” I pleaded.
“It’ll be okay, Joanie, sing for me, please.” That I couldn’t refuse.
~Those eyes of his again, damn. ~
My inner girl and Ms. Libido started doing the rumba, naked. I was merely terrified.
The record people wanted some more recent material on this recording so I sung the Shania Twain hit, ‘Man! I feel like a Woman.’ Mr. Karaoke had a special disc along with just the music and backing vocals, essentially a Karaoke disc, he cued it up and handed me a wireless mic. After the first line, I calmed down and got into “Joanie” mode. When I finished, it was like at Mel’s birthday party — dead silence - then the kids mobbed me.
~Oh Ghod, I think I have another hit, crap! ~
* * * *
In the limo on the way back to Terrace Hill, we were quiet again. Babs was exhausted, Bob let her rest against him. They were so very much in love and looked so happy. I decided to go for it; I closed my eyes and slowly leaned against Eric. It felt so good and right some how. Eric grabbed my hand and gently held it; already it was bigger than mine. I wondered about the future, but for now I just savored the moment.
“Joanie,” he whispered in my ear. “Are you my girlfriend?”
“Maybe, Eric, maybe I am at that. Be patient.” He put his arm around me, his hand brushing a breast. I didn’t think it was an accident. “What did I say, Eric?” I pouted.
“Be patient?”
“Yes, Eric.” I placed my hand over the back of his moving it to my breast then I gently squeezed the back of his hand, thus indirectly squeezing my own breast. Then I broke away and sat up.
“That’s as far as we go for now, okay?”
The look on his face was priceless; you would have thought he’d won the lottery. Just before I left Sunday afternoon I talked with Eric in private and gave him some kissing lessons, he was an apt pupil.
~I wonder, is he the one? ~
* * * *
February 18, 2007, 7PM EDT, Twain Hall, Whateley Academy
“Greasy, these pics are great, and she’s fully clothed, imagine what a naked photo of her would be like”
“What are you on about?”
“The first entries in our win a deluxe large pizza with the works for the ‘most interesting‘ photo of Joanie and Ms. Luther -- these of Joanie in bib overalls are so hot, they’re smokn’.”
“Fully clothed can’t be very...” Greasy’s jaw dropped when he saw the photo Pepper held. “Damn, that’s scorching!”
“I told you this was a goldmine, and she can’t complain because she chose to wear that outfit in public. The way it clings to her figure is inspiring -- Kerrist, you can see her nipples in this shot.”
Peeper’s head was spinning with thoughts of profit. Greasy tugged on his arm to get his attention.
“Peeper, you think that’s good, look at this holographic image someone took during her morning run the other day. Look at the profile, then rotate around to the front.” Peeper’s face started to twitch.
“My Ghod, the expression on her face, she looks like she’s having an orgasm: talk about your runner’s high. We have got to get these two printed right away. We’ll charge $39.95 for the 24x36 and $59.95 for the life-size, $20 dollars more for each of the holographic ones. Get our contacts in the print shop and photo lab to make 200 of the small and 100 of the large of each. Wait ‘til we get some of Luther.” Greasy would do as Peeper asked, but he felt uneasy. “Tell them to title the hologram ‘Joanie: Runner’s high!’ and the photo ‘Joanie: Denim dreams!’”
“Not ‘Oshkosh My Gosh!’, ‘Drool time!’, ‘The Milk Maid Cometh?’” Greasy said.
“Don’t be sarcastic, Greasy; we have an image to uphold.” Greasy rolled his eyes discretely.
* * * *
To be continued
Revised 10/06/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance
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Comments
Boy oh boy.
The difference between men and boys in this case is not the cost of their toys. Eric is far more of a man than greasy or peeper will ever be.
Chris
Copyrights
Hmmm, those two clowns better be careful, I'm betting Joanie's image is copyrighted/trademarked by the record company. Sure, they can take pictures of her in public, but selling posters would be a violation.
Hugs!
KJT
“When a clown moves into a palace, he doesn’t become a king. The palace becomes a circus.” - Turkish Proverb
It's worse than that KJT
As it is election time here in Wisconsin -- governor's race among others -- we're being bombarded with tasteless attact ads and the classic photos that misinform. The photos where it looks like the politician is a moron -- justifed or not -- drooling, ranting like a lunatic, the devil's uncle and so on. They use digital manipulation to do it now as well. Hey, it was worse in the past, look at Andrew Jackson and his wife and the duals he fought for her honor.
Joanie and Lex -- another fanfic Whateley character by Rhodes -- become victims of a more tittilating style of such candid photography. Joanie gets appropriate revenge and it does lead -- indirectly -- to big bucks for Whateley in Timeout 3. She could have sued the kids but they are children and 'these sort of little pranks are certain to happen, aren't they' or so their laywers would claim. Her revenge is effective, non-scarring, humiliating to Peeper, and silly.
Happy to hear you may have something for us soon, Karen. Now if only I could start typing that Halloween Glacier Girl bit.
John in Wauwatosa
P.S. What, no comment on Joanie and her, um, boyfriend?
P.P.S. They manage to keep it platonic, barely.
John in Wauwatosa
Minors, shminors!
Given the lawsuits the RIAA has been filing the last year or so against the illegal downloading of music, I doubt any record company would have any problems filing against minors and their guardians for trademark infringement. It's not considered "pranks" and they go for the jugular. In one case a visiting grandchild downloaded some music from napster or the like and the RIAA sued the grandparent for $250,000! The usual out-of-court settlement is in the $10-25,000 range. In the real world the artist is not likely to have any ability (or right, for that matter) to stop the corporation from filing.
All this has been heavily documented in various music trade pubs (such as Billboard) and Rolling Stone magazine. It's really quite incredible how far the RIAA will go to stop music file swapping. But then I guess overreacting is not a word in a corporate lawyer's vocabulary!
BTW: How do you make a politician (of any stripe/party) not look like a drooling, ranting lunatic?
Hugs!
Karen J.
“When a clown moves into a palace, he doesn’t become a king. The palace becomes a circus.” - Turkish Proverb
Hey Grampa wasn't!
My grandfather on dad's side of the family was a MINOR politico -- rural school board and town chairman -- and did not drool in the least but he did get out of it by the time he retired from farming.
Ah, yes, the RIAA and their "lets scare the CD pirates in China by nuking grannys and kids in the USA" tactics. They need more catsup in their diets. --See A Prairie Home Companion --
* * * *
Oh, Joanie is calming down about your Kari liking Fleetwood Mac so much, they did have some great hits and Nikki was cute in her prime. Maybe her dislike is instinctual, as she prefers Ford products over GM. -- Very lame car joke --
But if Kari ever sings ABBA or, ghods, The Village People, I fear I won't be able to restrain her.
John in Wauwatosa
John in Wauwatosa
ABBA Forever!
And I so like "Dancing Queen"!
You're a teaser, you turn em on
Leave them burning and then you're gone
Looking out for another, anyone will do
You're in the mood for a dance
Hugs!
Karen J.
The Dancing Queen, young and sweet!
Edit: Actually, now that I think about it, "Dancing Queen" fits Joanie rather well! Perhaps she should cover it on her next album!
KJT
“When a clown moves into a palace, he doesn’t become a king. The palace becomes a circus.” - Turkish Proverb
ABBA DABBA
Karen,
as Itinerant -- of "Amazon" fame -- will tell you, the dancing queen is Nicole, his Amazon Queen. Unless Queen Elizabeth II polkas?
It does have a catchy beat, I suppose. But Joanie is not a wanton flirt ... Okay, she is but she's working on it. She does flirt and act "the blonde", it's fun for her and it makes people underestimate her. As to partners for the horizontal mambo, she's very selective.
The after effects of the dance in T2, Chapter 10 linger for a very long time. The T3 Easter 2007 trip explains this in greater detail but that's nine or so chapters ahead.
John in Wauwatosa
P.S. As to next album, hum? She does release a single with the Sabers that does well and she pulls a Stephen King -- does an album under a pseudonym.
P.P.S. The Sabers, that's right they haven't shown up yet.
John in Wauwatosa
Style, some content
Quite a few of the characters use exactly the same phrases and words. Ghod is one of many that seem wildly unlikely unless they are all members of the same comix/tv show fan clubs. This might be believable if the characters met at a comix conference or sci/fi convention, but the coincidence of "real life" shared experience is a stretch. It might be funnier to those readers who "get" the jokes if the other characters didn't understand the quotes and references made by a character much older than she looks. Sometimes you don't *have* to telegraph a double take or mug for the camera.
The spelling and grammar are ragged at times, and close approximations often substitute for the correct word. "Your" for "you're," "ease overtime" for "ease over time," and so on. It helps, when proofreading, to set the type size very large, like a child's primer, and to read aloud. The eyes and brain are quite skilled at "filling in" minor errors with the correct word, or even erasing an incorrect word, unless you actively prevent this from happening.
At times, the main character's interest in young children seems to verge on pedophilia, depite the protestations of the "other" characters in the story. The storyline is good, all in all, but the occasional inappropriate sexual undercurrent often distracts from the interesting exploration of time travel and psychic powers.
Valid Points to be Concidered
Developing a separate "voice" for each character is something I will need to work on, I know.
The Ghod thing was originally a misunderstanding about a convention on these boards that became a style of sorts. I may change it so only Joanie or possibly her Midwestern friends use it, -- a regonal accent of sorts. I have no problem about going back and fixing things. Though I hope to post a reasonably finished product, I know this is a "work in progress."
Sometimes I am over-the-top on a gag/pun, sorry.
Thanks for the proof-reading tips, I know THAT needs work. I got an offer recently for help on proofing/editing and I hope to hear back from the kind person who offered to help.
As to Joanie and Eric and their relationship. Joanie is physically and emotionally 17 despite her 49 years and it's taking a lot of getting used to. She knows intellectually any sexual contact with Eric or any other minor is wrong and she strugles against her bodies desires to obey the law and be responcible. For now Eric is a tempting fantacy for her and a source of joy and frustration. She will be a good girl but it's not easy. That's why she confessed her feelings to Babs -- the mother --, Joanie is worried as well. Remember back to when you were in your mid to late teens and how easy it was to be attracted to others.
Much like the references to things she knows because of her age that others don't, there is a line between saying too little and going too far. If you feel I've gone too far, I appreciate your concern. I'm trying to tell a story with lots of humor, some serious stuff and a touch of tittilation but not too much. When I stray too far from a reasonable balance, I appreciate the reminder.
Thanks for your imput.
John in Wauwatosa
John in Wauwatosa
Re: Valid Points to be Considered
Proofreading is always hard; you may have noticed that I misspelled "despite" without the "s" in my own last paragraph. That's the trouble with scribbling out a short note without taking the time to follow my own advice.
The form input method discourages careful editing, since you can't come back later and fiddle with the words.
As to finding different voices, I can only suggest that they are all around you. Listen carefully to the people you hear everyday, and steal their speech habits without shame, since this is what writers do. I don't know about Wisconsin, but where I live one can hear all sorts of people, from Koreans to Texans, from "Down Easters" to Canadians, and everywhere in between. If not in your immediate vicinity, there's always TV and radio, where you'll find characters by the score deliberately crafted (or stolen) by professional writers with the firm intention to make them all sound unique.
Be aware that this quest for difference can be easily overdone, and often leads to exaggerated stock characters, as they do on the original Star Trek, for example, where we find the Scottish engineer, the Southern doctor, the Russian officer, and so on, all lifted out of the standard playbook. They're memorable and distinct of course – almost anyone familiar with the show can imitate them with fair success -- but they are none-the-less clichés.
And then there are books. Books are useful, but when most people read them the voice in their head is their own, and you have to imagine the implied sound from your own experience. I'm sure you've heard the old Granny Goose commercial in which the Mexican bandito says, "We don't need no stinking badges," but the bare words don't capture the sound at all, although a text description of the bandit's heavy accent and disreputable appearance might help.
Your plan to have "Ghod" be a midwestern thing runs into the fact that there is a huge audience out there who already *know* it as a moderately antiquated "Fennish" or "Filk" word, from the world of Fandom with a capital "F." The original use was either "Bheer is the One True Ghod!" or...
In both cases, the sentiments and general attitude are very similar. It's very hard, at this late date, to warp the word into something it's not. If it were me, I'd have the protagonist be a Fan and maybe run into one or two other fans, explaining his hobby to others who wonder what the Hell "Ghod" means and who the Devil are Amos 'n Andy. While we *may* know people who can recite every significant line of dialogue in The Rocky Horror Picture Show, dance the Time Warp with style and grace, and throw the rice with impeccable timing, there aren't *that* many, and only a very select few have Columbia's sequined top hat, bustier, tailcoat, and tap pants hanging in their closet, much less the rhinestone dog collar.
The humor in your writing shows through quite clearly, and is one of its strengths. The difficulty comes when *everyone* understands.
I can tell you with certainty, though, that any mother who heard that an older girl was sexually attracted to her fourteen year old boy probably wouldn't allow that girl within a mile of her boy without a chaperone unless she was already an enthusiastic "swinger" and into very kinky sex.
I sympathize with your attempt to show the protagonist's inner torment and confusion, but I think you probably know how popular you yourself would be in your own neighborhood if you divulged similar longings toward the young children within a block or two of your home.
Given the fact that the protagonist *was* an older man, surely *he* still retains enough wisdom and caution to keep *her* mouth shut, no matter what he "feels." This is the sort of confession that can easily land one in jail, and make one's front porch a regular stop-off for the local sheriff whenever a child goes missing or is incoherently frightened within a hundred miles. The fact that she is now female won't save her, except to ensure that her time in prison is longer, since men are more or less expected to be violent jerks from time to time, or "lose control," but a woman who harms a child is depraved beyond redemption.
Best of luck…
Being from California
And having been all over the country and a lot of the far east while in the air force, I tend to translate everything I hear into my own voice. Everyone I talk to sounds normal to me regardless of where they are from or where I am. I think this would cause me great difficulty writing in other voices. Frankly though, I don't care if you write them all in the same voice. It's the story and the situations as well as emotions that make the story. Voices not so much.
Chris
Strong comments
Guest Reader, you make some good comments, and I won't say I don't agree with some of them. But your objections on some points is awfully strong for the minor point. For instance, a lot of concern over the use of "Ghod". I seriously doubt there are that many "Fans" with a capital "F" reading these stories. I'm a big Sci-Fi fan, more so than John, and I'd never heard of your references. So I doubt he was trying "to warp the word into something it's not". "Huge audience"? Um-m-m, I don't think it's all that huge.
We've already had a session on clichés, and to a degree clichés make up our world; so in the high-paying world of TG fiction you've got to expect them to show up from time to time. As for the Russian officer on Star Trek, it wasn't a cliché. It actually was a rip-off of another TV show of the time, with a background change.
Regarding the rest of your comments, you make some valid points that I don't disagree with; however I have some emotional baggage on that score that I carry with me. It shapes and warps my view of some things. Remember, however, where we are. This is a TG fiction website and there are a lot of stories on here that wouldn't play in the real world. John is making an effort to show Joanie's confusion and problems, we may not agree with everything he writes, but he does make the effort to point out that Joanie will keep things legal. And perhaps Babs can see the good in a very confused young/old woman.
Hugs!
Karen J.
“When a clown moves into a palace, he doesn’t become a king. The palace becomes a circus.” - Turkish Proverb
Strong Comments
It may be a minor point, but it's a real one. Writers are not like Humpty Dumpty, whose words mean whatever he chooses them to mean. That particular word carries a lot of baggage for many people, and is so distinctive outside of SF/F and Comix Fandom that it's highly idiosyncratic. I would imagine that a lot of the readers of this author's pointedly SF/F creation, which shares quite a bit with the Comix worldview, will find a number of people who either recognize the word and are sensitive to its being at least partially out of place, or for whom it is as foreign as "Dreezleflob," who would be sensitive to the fact that *everyone* says "Dreezleflob" for no discernable reason.
One character, or even two, can say "Godfrey Daniels" and it's a funny eccentricity, but if *everyone* says "Godfrey Daniels!" we might wonder if we'd wandered into a madhouse or a conspiracy, one or the other. In real life, most people have words and phrases which they use and hardly anyone else does, just as people have distinctive gestures, movements, and walks. Any of these things trigger recognition, so I can tell when my closest friends approach by the sound their footsteps make, or the movement of a shoulder or hand, viewed from behind. Likewise I can recognize the writing of my friends, even when typewritten and unattributed, because it *reads* like their words. Humans have extraordinary powers of recognition and the slightest clue is often enough to give the game away.
As for Chekov on Star Trek, I'm guessing that the prototype you refer to is most likely Ilya Kuryakin* from The Man from U.N.C.L.E. series (1964-1968), although it could perhaps be Vladimir Minsk from Hogan's Heroes (1965-1971), or even the prototypes of all pop culture Russian TV icons, Boris and Natasha from the Rocky and His Friends (mainly Bullwinkle) cartoon show (1959-1961 and 1961-1964), or their slightly less memorable predecessors from the Crusader Rabbit show (1949-1951), the very first animated TV cartoon. Russians were very popular back then, at least as villains, since this was the beginning of the Cold War and there were "obviously" Reds under every bed, but both UNCLE and Trek (the latter as an afterthought, after the Russians objected) had noble Russian figures, albeit not the supposed "heroes," a real innovation at the time. Chekov was originally slated to be British, modeled after Michael Nesmith and/or Davey Jones from The Monkees (1965-1970), already popular with the female audience, and of course the Beetles. It was an inspired alteration, since there was no other choice which could have so clearly exemplified the united and peaceful humanity the show held up as a model.
Maybe I'm wrong, because these characters share mostly the fact of their Russian origins. Ilya was also the partial ancestor of Spock, another incredibly talented fellow who dragged the putative hero out of the horrible messes he inevitably wound up in, but mostly held the romantic lead position, since Solo was an idiot with little sex appeal, at least for me. Ilya, on the other hand, was a dreamboat.
Chekov was (in part) a spoof of the supposed Russian claim to have invented everything, and his main function at times seemed to be to point out that every invention mentioned by any of the characters had been invented in Russia ages ago, as well as acting as the real romantic interest in the series (maybe shared with Spock, if one likes brilliant but emotionally distant men), since Kirk, like Solo, was another idiot unlikely to appeal to a clever teenage girl.
And pardon me if I offend in any way, but there *are* readers of this site who aren't, in fact, terribly interested in the TG element of most of the stories, but do enjoy the less popular transformation SF/F/Comix stories, especially since the Transformation Story Archive maven went walkabout. The mutant or transformation story resonates with *everyone*, from Andre Norton's Judgement on Janus to Avram Davidson's Ursus of Ultima Thule, to Spiderman to werewolves to vampires, because everyone has gone through puberty, and everyone is afraid, at one time or another, that the deepest reaches of one's heart might be disgusting, or pathetic, or merely laughable if anyone ever "found out."
Best of luck...
----------------------------------
* My particular heartthrob. I usually fell in love with the second banana in most of the series that I liked, Ilya from UNCLE; Chekov (maybe Spock too, at least a little, since he had most of the brains, the other half of Ilya, and later Tasha Yar) from the Star Trek franchise; Barney Collier and/or The Amazing Paris from Mission Impossible; Alexander Scott from I Spy; the inexpressively exquisite Mrs. Peel from The Avengers (1964-1967); and so on. Brains have always been more attractive than brawn to me, and male protagonists are rarely all that clever, since young men often find it difficult to identify with them. By default, the brainy ones usually play second fiddle and rarely get the girls, at least the beautiful ones.
Of course the hero rarely gets the brainy girls either, so it's probably a fair tradeoff.
so in SG1...
I'm guessing Daniel instead of Jack? Sam instead of Te'alc?
Chris
Ghods
As an old Fan, I want to say one thing here, Ghod is not pronounced much differently than God. Not in my experience, though I wasn't around when the word first was used back in the 30s or 40s. From the Land of Sticky Quarters to the Isles of Corflu, Ghod was pronounced Gawd, just like God. :)
Also, I never heard of Bheer, what is it anyway? :)
Oh, and if you're registered with an author account, you can edit postings.
- Erin
= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.
Thanks for your imput
Guest, Karen, Erin, thanks.
That anyone is concerned as to my characters actions/motivations or if I have done something that detracts from their enjoyment in reading my drivel tells me I actually wrote something that people enjoyed. Well color me amazed!
I agree the interaction between Joanie and Eric could smack of inapropriate conduct on her part. I'll need to make that more clear; as the writer I KNOW her intentions but sadly you do not unless I communicate it clearly. Sorry about that.
As to "voice", give me time, I have a hard enough time spelling things properly with a spellchecker function riding shotgun. Any wrong words or mispellings are clearly Bill Gates fault, not mine ...
You don't beliieve me? Darn!
Thanks for your comments, I hope to hear more.
John in Wauwatosa
John in Wauwatosa
Re: Thanks for your input
Not at all. It has definite strengths, and avoids most of the cliches these types of stories so often fall into. And it was, in fact enjoyable. I read the entire bundle of stories in one sitting.
As a suggestion on "voice," you might try asking random friends "How would you say [this]?" for a few key scenes, especially those with interjections or strong emotional content. Tell them you're taking a correspondence course in writing, and simply ask for their help. Most people are wonderfully helpful if you give them half a chance to be.
Of the million words or so in the English language, most people use only a few thousands on a regular basis; the trick is figuring out which few thousand each character mostly uses, because every individual's personal set of words is different. Regionally, it can be as simple as the choice between "stream," "beck," "rill," "brook," "rivulet," "brae," "creek," branch," "burn," and "run" when describing a smallish freshwater tributary stream that may or may not go dry in the heat of summer.
In Wisconsin, a "coulee" is something quite different from the same word in Louisiana, or Montana. In Britain, the goods that come by "truck" in the USA are delivered in a "lorry." "Pumps" with stiletto (or at least narrow) heels in the USA are "court shoes" in England, although the two dialects are slowly merging.
"I almost had a heart attack," is how many Americans would phrase the feeling that some Southerners might describe as, "I like to had a heart attack." Just a touch is enough to give the flavor, and painstaking attempts to duplicate the sounds of a dialect or region can quickly become tiresome, insulting, or irritating, since everyone uses more or less standard English spellings to represent the words that a "foreigner" might hear as something "odd" or incomprehensible. "Oil" is "oil," whether one pronounces it with a broad "aw" sound or not, and misspelling it implies that the people who use the broad "aw" sound are idiots who don't know that the "correct" way to say it is with a diphthong. Southern speech is actually fairly conservative, so Shakespeare probably sounded quite a bit like a "hillbilly" from Appalachia, but with a little less of a Scots accent. It's the rest of us who've changed.
In 1751, the highly literate Thomas Gray wrote:
At the time, no one was amused at his "mistake," since the usage was perfectly correct back then. Our present desire to replace "wrote" with "written" is a late development, but now we *insist* on "correcting" the daily speech of a genius, so it's actually fairly difficult to find the poem in its original form.
But "voice" is also the sorts of things we say, whether we tend to long sentences or short ones, whether we prefer words of one syllable or three, whether our speech is are sprinkled with "colorful" words or phrases or is rather plain and "suitable for mixed company." Some people are eloquent; some are tongue-tied. Vive la différence!
And *everything* is probably Bill Gates fault; it's just that we haven't quite connected all the dots yet.
I have a PC, but loathe it, and vastly prefer my Macs.
TTFN