The Hedgewitch of Huntington

(Fairy Dust - Book 1)

By J. S. Lynch

Chapter 1: Alex

Alex stared out the window of the Greyhound bus, watching the scenery change from urban to rural. She saw nothing but a blur of green and brown as if someone had smeared a dirty paintbrush across a canvas, with the occasional flash of red and yellow breaking the mottled monotony. Coupled with the drone from the bus’s AC and with the steady rumble of the tires on the blacktop, it would almost be enough to lull her to sleep. Except, she wouldn’t let herself fall asleep. The last time she dozed off, she had a nightmare: her mother being dragged away screaming by men in white coats. Technically, that was a memory, but at least she could force herself to not think about it while she was awake.
The scent of gasoline and sweat permeated the air. Alex’s mouth felt dry, and her saliva tasted bitter. She knew she had a bottle of water in her backpack, but it was too much of a hassle to dig it out from under her seat. Someone behind her sneezed.
Gross.
The air felt so stale and suffocating. She wished she could just open her window and get some fresh air. When she tried to pull it open earlier, the window jammed, leaving it just open enough to create a disproportionately annoying whistle for the rest of the trip. Alex was pretty sure the rock-hard seat digging into the back of her legs would leave a bruise. She felt trapped. She felt like a prisoner, being transferred to death row.
But maybe she deserved it; after all, this was her fault. It was her fault that her mom was gone; it was her fault that she was now on a bus to nowhere. Guilt warred with bitterness in Alex’s heart. On the one hand, she had just left behind everything she knew in Baltimore: her mother, her home, her school, her friends. On the other hand, it’s not like she had that many friends. Or a real home. Or a good school. Or a loving mother. But still, it was familiar. It was hers. And Alex had just flushed it all down the drain.
And now she was heading to Huntington, West Virginia, to live with a stranger. A stranger who just happened to be her biological father. A stranger who had abandoned Alex and her mother before she was even born. A stranger who had no idea who Alex really was, much less what he was getting himself into.
Alex glanced at the woman sitting next to her. Ms. Jones, a kind-faced woman with mocha skin and dark, curly hair that seemed to have a mind of its own, sat, sorting through some papers and humming to herself. She had a gentle voice and a friendly energy, but Alex didn’t trust her. Alex didn’t dislike her, she just couldn’t trust someone who acted as if they cared just “oh, so much.” But Ms. Jones was there to help her- she knew that. She was Alex’s caseworker and had been nothing if not kind to her since her mom had been committed.
Ever since I got her committed.
She stopped that train of thought immediately. There wasn’t much point, thinking about that now.
“Are you okay, Alex?” Ms. Jones asked, noticing Alex’s waning gaze.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Alex lied. She wasn’t, but it’s not like that mattered.
“We’ll be there soon,” Ms. Jones said, trying to sound reassuring. “Your father will be waiting for us at the bus station. I’m sure he’s very excited to meet you.”
“Yeah, sure he is,” Alex muttered under her breath.
Ms. Jones sighed and turned back to the folder on her lap, rifling through the papers.
“Here are some documents I will need you to look over,” she said, handing Alex a few papers. “They’re just formalities. You can look them over now, or we can go over them together once we meet up with your dad.”
Alex took the papers and scanned them briefly. They seemingly covered details about how the transfer would be expected to go and how CPS would follow up to ensure Alex was adjusting well and being taken care of. After skimming the papers for a few minutes and pretending to skim them even longer, Alex passed them back to Ms. Jones, who smiled and slipped them neatly into her folder. Alex gave her a tight-lipped smile in return.
“Thank you, Alex,” she said. “You’ve been very cooperative. I appreciate that.”
“No problem,” Alex said, shrugging and looking away.
Ms. Jones checked her watch and looked out the window.
“We should reach the rest stop in a few minutes,” she said. “Are you hungry? Do you want to get something to eat?”
“No, I’m okay,” Alex said, shaking her head. She couldn’t eat even if she wanted to. Her stomach felt like she had swallowed a brick of lead.
“Well, okay. Maybe later then,” Ms. Jones replied.
“Sure.”
Alex closed her eyes and pressed her head against the window, the pane of glass a little warmer than the air. Everything was just too overwhelming. There were too many noises, too many people. Too many thoughts and feelings were running through her head, not all of them her own. Occasionally, she would catch a glimpse, a fragment of a foreign thought or memory, or a quick stab of a random emotion. It was exhausting. It was painful. Alex wished they would all just shut up and leave her alone.
— — —
The intercom crackled, snapping Alex out of her stupor. The bus driver’s voice came through it, a rich and gravelly sound as if she had been smoking a pack a day since birth. It was weirdly comforting.
“Attention, passengers, we’ll be stopping soon to fuel up and let everyone stretch their legs. Please stay seated until the bus comes to a complete stop,” She intoned in a practiced-if-exasperated cadence. “We will be stopped for twenty-five minutes, and any passenger not on the bus by the time I close the doors will be left behind.”
As the driver spoke, Alex opened her eyes and looked around. They were pulling into the parking lot of some podunk truck stop in some nowhere-town.
“Would it have killed them to stop somewhere a little nicer?” Alex muttered to herself sarcastically.
As the bus rolled to a stop, Ms. Jones tapped Alex on the shoulder.
“Come on, Alex,” she said with a gentle smile. “Let’s go stretch our legs and get some fresh air.”
Alex nodded and followed her to the front of the bus. They stepped off the bus and into the gas station’s parking lot. It was a small, shabby place with a few pumps and a convenience store. An unlit sign read “Tony’s.”
Ms. Jones took out her wallet and handed Alex some money.
“Here, take this,” she said. “At least get yourself a snack or something to drink, okay? I’ll be right back.”
She then marched double-time toward the restroom, leaving Alex alone.
Alex looked at the money in her hand and felt a surge of bitterness. She didn’t need her pity or her charity- she didn’t want it. Stuffing the money in her pocket, she looked around at the people milling about the gas station: a couple of truck drivers filling up their tanks, a family with kids buying snacks at the store, a young woman with a dog sitting on a bench.
Alex wondered what their lives were like. Where were they going? Where did they come from? What sort of things did they care about? What kind of secrets were they keeping?
I could find out…
She glanced back toward the bus. The door was open and the driver was nowhere to be seen. Alex figured she would probably be smoking behind the store.
Walking toward the road, Alex stared at the cars and trucks rushing past along the highway. She could try to flag someone down and hitchhike. Or maybe she could pay someone at the gas station to give her a ride, to take her somewhere else. Somewhere far away from here. She retrieved the crumple bills Ms. Jones gave her from her pocket. Ten bucks. Alex sighed and put the money away. Maybe if she just made a run for it? Alex wondered how long it would take for Ms. Jones to come back.
Alex took another step toward the edge. Then she stopped, hesitating.
“How long would it be before anyone noticed I was gone? Would anyone even care?”
She stared down at the speeding traffic, the creeping realization that she had nowhere else to go pressing on her mind. She had nowhere to go, no one who cared about her, and there was nothing she could do. Nothing except go to Huntington and meet Noah.
She tried to swallow but found her mouth still dry. There wasn’t any point in trying to run away, not anymore.
Resigned, Alex walked back toward the store. She might as well use that ten bucks.
— — —
As she entered, she was greeted by a blast of cold air and a jingling bell. The store was small and cramped, with shelves full of junk food, drinks, magazines, cigarettes, and lottery tickets. A TV mounted on the wall played some news channel.
She wandered around the store, looking at the items with little interest. She didn’t want anything, but she figured that buying something would at least get Ms. Jones off her back. Maybe just a candy bar or a soda.
She picked up a chocolate bar and examined it. A thin film of dust covered the wrapper. It must have been older than she was. Dropping it, she moved to the coolers. She scanned the shelves, but nothing looked good.
She wandered the aisles, eventually picking up a magazine. It was one of those gossip rags that had pictures of celebrities and their scandals. Flipping through it, she saw a headline that read “Hollywood’s Hottest Couples: Who’s In and Who’s Out?” She rolled her eyes and tossed it back on the rack.
She felt the faintest hint of a prickling at the back of her mind, barely an itch. Someone was watching her. Looking up, she saw a girl standing at the other end of the aisle, near the counter. The girl was about Alex’s age, maybe a year or two older. She had long blonde hair that fell in waves over her shoulders, blue eyes that sparkled like diamonds, and a perfect smile that showed off her white teeth. She wore a pink tank top that hugged her curves, denim shorts that showed off her legs, and flip-flops that matched her top. She had a silver necklace around her neck and a gold bracelet on her wrist. She looked like she had stepped out of one of those magazines Alex had just discarded.
The girl was holding a bottle of water and a pack of gum. She smiled at Alex and said, “Hi.”
Alex managed a meek “Hi” before quickly walking away, her cheeks burning red.
She felt like she had just seen everything she wasn’t, someone who was beautiful, confident, and happy.
Alex looked down at herself and felt ashamed. She wore an old T-shirt that was too big, jeans that were too tight, and sneakers that were too worn. Her face was plain; her short brown hair was messy and dull and desperately needed to be cut. She wore no makeup or jewelry except for a cheap watch that barely worked.
She headed towards the restroom at the back of the store. She needed to get away from everyone and everything for a while.
The women's restroom was occupied, so she slipped into the men's room instead, locking the door behind her. The room was small and dirty, with a sink, a toilet, a mirror, and a trash can. There was graffiti on the walls and stains on the floor. It reeked of piss and 409.
She felt exhaustion and despair wash over her and walked over to the sink and turned on the faucet. She splashed water on her face and stared into the mirror. Tired, brown eyes stared back at her. She saw a girl who looked lost and powerless. A girl who had no control over her life. A girl who had no future.
She hated what she saw.
She wished she could change it.
She wished she could change everything.
— — —
Back on the bus, she sat quietly, listening to music on her iPod Nano. It was three more hours before they reached Huntington. Ms. Jones tried making small talk a few times, but Alex wasn’t in the mood. The minutes, hours passed. Alex woke with a start when Ms. Jones shook her, not realizing she had even fallen asleep. At least she didn’t have the dream this time. Small blessing.
“Sorry, Alex, I didn’t mean to startle you. We’re here,” came Ms. Jones’ voice, muffled through Alex’s headphones.
Alex stopped her music, got up, and followed Ms. Jones off the bus, resigned to whatever fate awaited her. The bus station was small and crowded, with only a few benches and ticket counters. The air was thick with the smell of exhaust fumes and stale coffee. Alex looked around at all the people scurrying about. She idly wondered which one of them was her father. Obviously, not the angry mom arguing with the clerk. Not the little boy crashing toy cars together at her feet. Hopefully, it wasn’t the raggedy, older gentleman sleeping with his head on his suitcase. She figured it probably wasn’t the black guy in his early twenties playing games on a DS.
She wondered what he would look like, what he sounded like, what he acted like. She almost started to wonder if he would be anything like her mom but stopped herself, digging her nails into her palms.
Ms. Jones took out her phone and loaded a picture of Alex’s father. She scanned the crowd for his face, looking anxious. The older woman showed the picture to Alex and asked her to help look for him.
A wave of disappointment crashed into Alex when she saw it. He was a middle-aged man with brown hair and blue eyes. He had a scruffy beard and a crooked smile. He wore a work jacket and a faded blue Baltimore Ravens baseball cap. He looked like a loser.
“See him yet?” Ms. Jones asked after a few minutes of searching.
“Nope,” Alex said, shaking her head.
“Well, he was supposed to meet us here at the station,” Ms. Jones said, looking displeased. “-holding a sign with your name on it.”
Alex looked around again but didn’t see anyone with a sign. “Maybe he’s late,” Alex said, secretly hoping he wouldn’t show.
“Maybe,” Ms. Jones said, sounding doubtful.
Ms. Jones sighed and put away her phone. She put her hand on Alex’s shoulder with a gentle squeeze.
“Hey,” she said softly, “how are you feeling? Are you okay? Are you nervous?”
Alex shrugged off Ms. Jones’ hand and looked away.
“I'm fine,” she said, maybe a little too irritably.
Ms. Jones frowned and tried again.
“Alex, I know this is hard for you. Believe me. I know you’ve been through a lot. But this is a chance for you to start over. To have a family again.”
Something in Alex snapped.
“A family!? Do you really think I’m gonna live a Brady Bunch life with this guy? He left before I was even born! He didn’t even know I existed until, what? A few weeks ago?”
Ms. Jones opened her mouth to say something, but Alex cut her off.
“Just stop it,” she said bitterly. “I don’t wanna hear your promises about how I’m gonna have this perfect fairytale life from now on, okay? I’m just so sick of everyone lying to me!”
Ms. Jones closed her mouth and looked hurt.
“Alex,” she said softly. “I’m not lying to you. Please, just trust me on that. I won’t promise that everything is gonna be okay from now on ‘cause I have no idea how it’ll turn out. But you’re one of the toughest kids I know, Alex, and I know how much you’ve been hurt. You deserve a chance to start over and have an easy life, and this guy might be able to give you that. He signed the paperwork saying he wanted to be your parent, so can you at least give him a chance to try?”
Alex felt her rage falter like a rug had been pulled out from beneath her. It was weird to hear Ms. Jones speak so honestly, and it had disarmed her. Alex felt a little embarrassed- ashamed, really.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” Alex sputtered out with a sigh. “You’re right.”
“And if he turns out to be a jerk, I’ll let you help me kick his ass, okay?” Ms. Jones said with a conspiratorial smile. “We got a deal?”
“Deal,” replied Alex, with her own small smile.
“Now, where the hell is he?” huffed Ms. Jones as she began to look around again.
“Maybe he died,” Alex said with a wicked smirk and a shrug.
Ms. Jones grimaced and shook her head. She checked her phone, noticing a missed call from her office. She hurriedly punched in a phone number and hit the call button. A staticky voice picked up on the other end. Alex couldn’t hear what the other agent was saying, but she could tell by Ms. Jones’ expression that it wasn’t good news.
The older woman frowned and began to pace. Alex only heard Ms. Jones’s side of the conversation, “What? How? Why? Oh, gosh. What do we do now? Another placement? Okay. Alright. Thank you, I’ll talk to her..”
She ended the call and looked at Alex with a sad and sorry smile.
“Alex,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I have some bad news.”

Chapter 2: Noah

A hateful sound, like that of a tone-deaf bell with a personal vendetta, jolted Noah awake. He shot up and immediately regretted it when a searing headache threatened to split his head open. Vertigo overtook him, and he had to fight down… whatever he had eaten last night. A barbed wire and sour milk stew? That was his best guess, based on the pain in his gut. He heaved. With his eyes shut so tight that it started to hurt, Noah took a very, very deep breath.
And then another.
And then another.
Slowly, he tried to open his eyes. Why am I on the ground? Noah blinked away the spots, rotating his head at a glacial pace. When his eyes finally focused, he saw Doris, a plump, older woman who worked at the-
Shit.
He finally noticed the metal bars separating him and Doris. Judging by the way she swiveled her head and smiled, Doris had noticed him noticing the bars. She took a satisfied sip from her big, metal mug. She had a glossy name badge hanging from a Bengals lanyard that read “Dispatcher.” Noah squinted when it caught the light.
“Heeyy, you. You finally awake? Get enough beauty rest?” She asked in her lilting, sing-song tone, which Noah learned long ago meant she was being condescending.
“Doris. What the hell happened?” Noah asked as he gently shifted to a sitting position. “What time is it?”
“It’s just after nine.” She answered. Then with a snort, she added: “And you got your ass beat, that’s what happened.”
“That doesn’t sound like me,” Noah said with a small laugh.
Then the amusement left her eyes. A frown settled on her face as she tilted her head ever so slightly upward. “What the hell, Noah? Why are you here?”
“I- I don’t know,” Noah shook his head. Bad idea. “What do you mean?”
“What I mean is: you’re a thirty-four-year-old man, not some frat boy, so why the hell are you getting into bar fights?”
Oooohh…
The previous night’s events slowly returned to him, meandering through his hazy mind. He had gone out drinking, and a fight broke out. He had been hit, so he hit back. And then he got hit again. And again. Which probably explained why everything hurt so much.
“It wasn’t my fault- some asshole punched me. I was just defending myself.”
“Yeah, I know. Bill and them got the security footage about two hours ago,” Doris huffed, seeming annoyed.
Bill was the local police chief, a pudgy, straight-laced kinda guy. Noah didn’t strictly dislike Bill. He knew the man was just doing his job, but he also knew he and Bill wouldn’t be sharing a milkshake with two straws anytime soon.
Doris continued: “They watched the video, took a statement from anyone sober enough to talk, and booked the guys who started the brawl. Everyone else is getting processed out.”
“What about me?” Asked Noah as he wiggled, trying to crack his spine.
“You’re toward the bottom of the list, and they’re short-staffed today, so it’s gonna be awhile.” Her demeanor softened. After a short pause, she sighed and added: “I’ll let ‘em know you’re awake. Someone will grab you and take your statement.”
“Thanks, Doris. Have I ever told you how much I love and appreciate you?” Noah teased.
Doris frowned, and Noah got the sinking feeling he had just made a mistake.
“Didn’t you have something important to do today?” She asked with a chiding undertone.
“What? No. I don’t think-” Then the memory resurfaced and hit Noah like a brick.
Shit.
“Shit.” Blurted Noah as he scrambled to his feet and to the bars. “Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit! Doris, I fucked up. You gotta let me outta here!”
“You know I can’t do that, Noah,” Doris said, flinching when Noah grabbed the bars. “Why? What’s going on?”
“My kid! I was supposed to pick up my kid today!” Noah shouted. He slowly sank to the ground, muttering to himself. “Oh, my god. Doris. Oh my god, this isn’t good. I’m so screwed.”
— — —
Noah stared down the clock on the wall, and the clock stared back, ticking, unblinking. A tiny part of Noah’s mind acknowledged how this felt like one of those stand-offs from old cowboy movies. If the rest of his mind hadn’t been focusing on stopping him from blowing a hole in the wall and running away, he probably would have been screaming his head off, trying to get someone to let him out.
Instead, Noah sat and waited. And waited. Watching the seconds tick slower just to spite him. He was seated on the bench, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped in front of his mouth.

Hello! I am changing up my eating habits, as a lot of health issues run on both sides of my family. Recently, I’ve been having a little bit of a health scare myself (my blood pressure is high for my age), so I’m trying to eat a more healthier and balanced diet to prevent further adversity. High blood pressure, diabetes, and lupus run in my family so that’s what I’m currently battling (trying to prevent)😅. I’ve been following this meal plan for a week and I just want to get another set of eyes on it and advice on how to make it better
Breakfast:
Steel cut oats with oat milk, chia seeds, honey, and cacao or Green smoothie (strawberries, blueberries, bananas, spinach, oat milk, chia seeds, Supergreen boost powder)
Snack: Cherries and mixed nuts or carrots with hummus
Lunch: Salmon, kale salad mix, brown rice, and chick peas topped with avocado oil
Snack: Vanilla bean yogurt and granola
Dinner: Turkey sausage with bell peppers, onions, broccoli, chopped up baked potatoes, and brown rice
I only drink water, green tea, or hot lemon water with a teaspoon of turmeric
I also take turmeric supplements as well as iron supplements (I’m anemic), and two teaspoons of fish oil a day
Any advice on how to make this better or any thoughts in general? I’m mainly focusing on eating more whole/natural foods, low sodium, and low sugar

Hey folks! So I guess this is my first update here since my initial post. Going to start off by apologising for my formatting as I'm on my phone.
I've been going to a boxing gym since early March consistently twice a week, and as hard as I was working at the gym, I found my weight was sticking around 250~lbs and I was wondering why even though boxing is literally one of the most challenging sports in terms of health, why I wasn't losing any weight. Of course, I was pondering this question while on my 8th beer of the night.
The more sessions I've had at my gym, the more I realised I loved boxing and exercising in general, so I've started going an extra night a week for an extra hour each time (gotta work on those fundamentals), and I'm discovering I enjoy a lot of strength work and bag work - as I type this I'm just in the door from a 2 hour session, even beat my PB leg press and got up to 380lbs! Unfortunately my conditioning isn't so good just yet due to an old foot injury, but I've noticed a significant improvement in what I'm able to do on my foot, but I don't want to push it just yet.
What I've really noticed though is that because I'm now spending so much time at the gym and getting addicted to that feeling, I really don't feel the need to drink as much, although I was technically an alcoholic I've never felt compelled to drink all the time, it's because it was simply more convenient to grab a can of beer rather than pour a glass of water but it was definitely an addiction. With that one change, the weight is now melting off me. I did have one beer at a family event a few days ago, and I logged it on My Fitness Pal and was shocked to see how many calories were in just one pint of beer. Stuck to the gins and slims the rest of that night and still ended up in a calorie deficit! Essentially my main take away so far has been that it's entirely possible to replace one addiction with another (healthier) one without even realising. I feel more confident, motivated and I'm drinking a hell of a lot more water. As a side note, the supermarket near me sells a lot of Polish meat which are extremely high in protein, so I've been having one sausage after each gym session haha.

I’ve been wondering for a minute why there’s no Goodwill bins in the greater Atlanta metro area when some major cities have multiple outlets. Every goodwill I go into the racks are stuffed making shopping frustrating. I’d much rather dig through bins. What’s the deal with North Georgia Goodwill?

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MBFD Part 46 - Honest Day’s Work

Kro’gnuar lets Fredrick take the lead as the off-world lemurian is definitely the most experienced of the two when it comes to these... ‘pohds’.
Grabbing his trusty wrench and crowbar from the driver's door, he patiently watches the young man as he studies the charred capsule.
Looking at the blackened exterior, Kro’gnuar thinks that it held up pretty damn well.
Not many star nations could claim that their spacecraft survived an unshielded atmospheric re-entry with so little damage in the first place.
The more technologically sophisticated nations would use typical magneto-shielding to keep the ridiculously hot plasma away from the hull, while the more ... pragmatically inclined nations would simply slap a few layers of ablative heat shielding on there and call it a day.
Not this one though.
The odd, somewhat egg-like shape of the capsule surely raises a few questions for the reptilian, but Kro’gnuar's mind is preoccupied with something else right now.
Watching from a few paces behind, he tries to read Fredrick’s body-language as the young man stares at the capsule.
Is he happy to see something familiar again, or is he perhaps thinking about possible comrades of his that died during his arrival here on Kavir?
He could also just be lost in thought for a bit, trying to come up with a plan on how to dismantle that thing, or something along those lines.
The fact is, the old warrior simply could not tell. He has a hard time getting a read on him, as Fredrick does not only lack a tail, but his oddly shaped ears are also about as expressionless as possible for a mammal; He has not seen them make even the tiniest twitch in the last few days.
And so, he simply keeps watching the young man, giving him some room for now.
He is just glad to not be alone on a scrap job for once - a little bit of weirdness from his new friend is not going to change that.
<[Got to keep in mind to ask him about that later.]> he reminds himself.
Though, after a while of simply standing there, Kro’gnuar gets a bit concerned and trudges over to the young man, powdery snow crunching satisfyingly under his heavy steps.
“Fredrik?” he asks, his tone perfectly neutral. As always.
The young man flinches from the large hand suddenly poking his shoulder from behind, turning to face Kro’gnuar.
“Ah, sorry. Got lost in think.” he apologizes, brushing part of his mane out of his face and scratching the back of his head.
“No problem.” Kro’gnuar rumbles “You just went quiet for a bit, so I thought I better check if you are alright.” he explains “Are you alright?”
“Yes, me alright!” Fredrick gives him an energetic thumbs-up and a big smile. “Just think I maybe remember new thing about how arrive here, a few second ago. Was... interesting.” he explains, walk-and-talking with Kro’gnuar to the escape pod.
As they arrive at the still closed hatch, Fredrick turns around and puts his hands behind his back as he gives Kro’gnuar a quick rundown of things.
“Okay, this is typical get-away-capsule. White part is sort of fabric that cover almost everything, black part is actually many, small tile put together for keep hot-hot away from inside.”
Kro’gnuar nods along; that sounds... about right?
“This part-”
Fredrick keeps explaining the general structure of the pod to him, pointing out potentially interesting points and components that he thinks might be more valuable than others, also telling him which areas to better leave alone if they both still want to exist later.
At least, that is what he thinks he tried to tell him; the algorithm is doing a great job at building a completely new database from the ground up, but sometimes those translations are a bit out there.
If he remembers right, the translator's words were “Big boom, not good, very dead. Part of you here, part of you over there. Not good time. Not good idea.”
Apparently, whoever built this thing thought it would be a great, absolutely genius idea to put a bunch of explosives inside of an escape-capsule.
Madness. Absolute madness.
Though, according to Fredrick, there is a valid reason for that.
Kro’gnuar highly doubts that.
Thankfully, Fredrick makes remembering all of it a lot easier by actually marking the spots he is talking about on the hull with a marker he took from one of the toolkits, using big circles and a couple of X’s to signify what to scrap and what to better leave alone as he talks about them.
It kind of reminds Kro’gnuar of the inter-cultural lectures he happily attended back on Kamorrha when he was still a strapping young warrior, scales shining brightly and eager to learn everything about those newly discovered and uplifted four-armed mammalians calling themselves ‘Kiroans’.
But that was almost a lifetime ago. Right now, he is making sure to keep everything Fredrick tells him in his mind and his experience is slowly starting to kick in as he starts to see the similarities to the kind of engineering he has gotten used to over time. Soon enough they are both engaged in pleasant technical talk, even exchanging a bit of knowledge here and there as they go over the pod one more time.
“Any more question?” Fredrick asks him after they are done.
“No, that should be everything for now.” Kro’gnuar replies, hefting his heavy-duty circular saw with a bit of anticipation.
“Good luck, then.” Fredrick tells him in English, slipping inside the pod.
Staying true to their deal from earlier, Kro’gnuar simply lets Fredrick go ham on the inside as he keeps on cutting away parts of the hull to get to the juicy innards, occasionally taking a glance at the various things Fredrick pulls out of the capsule as he happily presents them to the old man.
After seeing the pod in person, he is glad that Fredrick volunteered to take care of the inside. The armored giant doubts that he even would have been able fit inside to begin with, let alone stand upright or do any kind of work in that tin can.
But he has to give it to the people who built this, they certainly knew what they were doing; as he keeps tearing away layer after layer, his respect for their ingenuity keeps growing.
Rarely has he seen such well thought-out layouts and frames, cramped together in such tight spaces.
It seems like everything is there for a good reason.
Kro’gnuar is also starting to have a sneaking suspicion that Fredrick might not have been completely lying to him when he said that his people have managed to go to space, if not without a bit of help.
The letters and glyphs on the parts he is ripping from the capsule’s cold, charred corpse are awfully familiar to those he has seen the young man use to write down words in the past, and he also seems very knowledgeable about its construction.
<[Maybe they were uplifted, after all.]>
<[Could he simply be just too prideful to admit it to him, then? That would certainly be a lot more likely.]>
“Look, I even find new covering! No more have to wear old and damage coverings!” Fredrick cheers as he re-appears from the capsule, showing off a neatly folded stack of various fabrics to Kro’gnuar.
"Good that you found something useful for yourself. Put them in the hatch to the left of the other one, that one should be a lot cleaner.”
“Alright!”
He gets back to work and happily scraps away while Fredrick keeps flitting back and forth between the Scraploader and the pod, having his hands full with other things every time he exits the wreck, only stopping twice to take a short break.
The hours start to tick by as they happily scrap and loot to both their heart’s content, completely absorbed in their work respectively.
“I think, my work complete. I have take everything useful from inside, almost nothing left.” Fredrick proudly declares, walking up to him with a tired, but satisfied, smile.
Kro’gnuar grunts in agreement, gesturing at the completely torn apart escape pod with his saw.
“Same for me, except for some small parts that I am not sure of if they would even be worth scrapping.”
“Oh, which part?” Fredrick curiously asks.
“Any kind of electronics or computing components, if this really is as uncommon technology as I think it is, nobody will be able to program them. Not in these parts, at least.”
“Make sense.” Fredrick muses “We go back Kavir-L1, then?” he inquires, eager to head back and get some rest after a long day of good old-fashioned manual labor out in the cold.
Kro'gnuar looks to the horizon, mood souring a little as he spotsthe literal wall of dark gray clouds in the direction they would be heading.
“Maybe not.” he frowns “Let me check the radar for a moment.”
They both walk over to the Scraploader and Kro’gnuar hands Fredrick his tools.
“Here, take those and put them back. I will go check on the radar.”
“Okay.”
Fredrick takes the comically large tools from him and doesn’t even break a sweat as he quickly puts them into their respective spots, closing the hatches and joining Kro’gnuar in the cockpit after he is done.
“So, radar say good thing?” he asks, scooting over to take a look at the slightly scratched-up screen.
Kro’gnuar grumbles, definitely not happy.
“No, the radar did not warn us about that storm front forming up and it has gotten too big by now, I would not want to risk going through there if we do not have to.”
“Aw man.” Fredrick slumps into his seat.
“I agree. This is very irritating.” Kro’gnuar agrees, looking out of the window and back at the screen “I do not know why it did not warn us, a storm this big should have triggered a warning hours ago.”
Leaning back into the driver’s seat, Kro’gnuar closes his eyes in an attempt to keep the fire inside of him in check.This would be an incredibly stupid reason to use up one of his last blood-rages.
Taking a deep breath and exhaling through flaring nostrils, he opens his eyes again and turns to Fredrick.
“We will have to spend the night out here.”
“Mhm.” he agrees emotionlessly, simply accepting the fact.
“We will also have to make some preparations, the storm looks to be at least a Five.” he points at the radar screen.
“A Five?” Fredrick asks, trying to guess what that might mean.
“From out of ten. It is a rating we have developed.” he explains, confirming Fredrick’s hunch “Here on Kavir, even a Two can kill you if you do not know what you are doing - it gets extremely cold during a storm out here.”
“Wow.” Fredrick blurts out, both impressed and equally intimidated.
He wonders what rating the storm he endured in his pod might have been.

“A Four can knock vehicles over,” Kro’gnuar continues “a Six is able to damage structures, an Eight will definitely do major damage to anything and a Ten is almsot certain death for everything and everyone topside. Luckily, I have never even heard of a Ten even being seen.”
Fredrick swallows heavily, knowing what tornadoes are able to do back on Earth. He does not want to find out what they are capable of here.

“Okay, so what is have to do?” he asks, trying to be of use.
Kro’gnuar briefly thinks about it, recalling the checklist he made with Dushavee.
“We will have to strap down everything tight on the flatbed and put some debris-covers on the windows. We also have to put some covers on the engine intakes and anchor the vehicle to the ground.”
“I get, what is I supposed do?”
“You can take care of the intakes and the debris-covers, you can find them in the big compartment to the rear. I will go over the flatbed and then anchor us to the ground.” he instructs “And if one gets done before the other-”
“He will help other.” Fredrick finishes the sentence for him, taking things very serious.
“Exactly.” Kro’gnuar nods, his opinion of the odd lemurian steadily increasing.
They both get to work and Fredrick hops out of the cockpit, already feeling the breeze picking up a bit, which might also just be a classic case of placebo.
But it certainly does wonders in keeping him on his toes.
Not wasting any time, he power-walks to the rear and looks for the cargo hatch with the engine covers in them, quickly finding it. He turns the handle and pulls the access door open, taking out the covers and swiftly placing them in their spots, making sure that they are really stuffed in there.
After double- and triple-checking the intakes, he briskly walks back to the rear and takes out the pieces of window-shaped wire mesh, securing them in place with the turn of a few cleverly placed handles.
Kro’gnuar actually helps him with the biggest one, the one for the windshield.
“That should be everything.” Kro’gnuar sighs relieved “Did we forget any cargo boxes?”
Both briefly scan the vicinity of the Scraploader, thankfully finding nothing amiss.
“Good, let usss get inside. There is no use in staying outside any longer.”
“Yeah, I’d bet on that.” Fredrick agrees, thinking aloud in English, definitely not imagining the wind having picked up by now.
He climbs into the Scraploader, firmly closing the door shut with a solid thud.
“And now we wait.” Kro’gnuar sighs, rummaging through a glove box of sorts “Feel free to eat and rest, there is little else we can do right now.” he explains, handing Fredrick a cheap ration “Here, this should be edible for you.”
“Thanks.” Fredrick takes it hesitantly, taking a look at the unmarked silvery plastic wrapper.
Kro’gnuar tears open his own, identical ration, and takes a begrudging bite out of the unshapely brick of nutrients.
“Edible.” he grumbles, chewing on the tasteless lump “Not much more than that.”
Staring at the literal brick of food in his hands, Fredrick thinks back to his time in the military.He ate a lot of similar stuff during those nine months of mandatory service, and boy-oh-boy did his fresh-out-of-uni-self not like those.
With his mind somewhere else, he takes his first apprehensive bite out of it, not really bothered by something like that anymore.
he chuckles, swallowing the paste-y chunk.
“Do you want some water?” Kro’gnuar hands him a metal bottle “It helps wash it down.”
“Sure, thank.” Fredrick accepts it, taking a big sip.
The two men silently sit in the cockpit, both crunching on their dry-ass ration bars and thinking about the many, many things they would rather be doing than waiting out a storm in a cramped cockpit, stuck out in bumfuck nowhere, chewing on a kilo-brick of plaster.
“How long we have wait?” Fredrick breaks the silence, staring at the setting suns on the horizon with a faraway expression.
Kro’gnuar grumbles in thought, looking at the radar as he keeps chewing.
“I would guess somewhere between six and ten hours. That center looks hard to predict.” he points at the screen.
Fredrick doesn’t notice him doing so, though. He is still staring at the sunsets.
“Ten hours...?” Fredrick whines, at which Kro’gnuar simply nods.
“We are going to be here for a while, yes. Does your people have a way of passing time?” the reptilian inquires.
Fredrick lets out a dry laugh, looking back at the old warrior.
“We have many way of pass time - play games, tell story, and so further. I not tired enough for need sleep anway, so we can try few, if want.”
“Good.” Kro’gnuar lets out a deep, satisfied rumble “I have been meaning to ask you a few things.”
_____________________________________________
Being consistently late is still being consistent, right? :P
Jokes aside, I purposefully posted this one a day late.Last night, right before posting, I gave it my usual once-over and had a sudden flash of inspiration as I read through it, leading to me writing a bit more and delaying it for a day. :9
Reading your comments on the last chapter was a blast, by the way!
-Paperbag out.
Fun science fact #35: The common swift is a bird that can stay aloft for up to ten months without ever landing once - they are even capable of reproducing mid-flight. Their young also enter a state similar to hibernation when their parents leave for up to three days to hunt for food.
Nature, you alright?
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All gifted to us... There are so many. Some are "very special hand-me-downs" from 3 generations ago. Some are collectables... We've asked people to stop gifting our toddler stuffies but then we get hit with the "oh but I just couldn't say no!"
Should I just give them away to goodwill? We have two laundry baskets full.

Throwaway because I’m deeply ashamed of this and don’t want to talk about it on my main.
I hope this is okay to ask here, or if it’s not, could I be pointed to a better subreddit?
My mom was a hoarder when I was growing up. Not to the point that you see on TV shows, but pretty bad.
Our house was always filthy. Piles of just… stuff everywhere. Tables and counters and entire rooms that were unusable for years at a time. Nothing was ever dusted or cleaned. There was no point in trying. Closets and drawers stuffed so full there was no room for laundry. Laundry instead went into a giant pile in the laundry room. If you needed clothes, you’d wash just a few days worth to get you by.
The house was in disrepair. My dad would constantly be “renovating” the entire thing. Which in reality meant he would tear a wall down, or some pipes, or some cabinets, and just leave it there unfinished for years. I remember a period of… maybe 5? Years, where no one could shower because he tore out the shower head to replace it, and just… didn’t put the new one up.
Mom eventually got better about hoarding. She keeps a much nicer house now. But I never learned how to keep a home. I still live in the unclean-able hoard she moved out of when she left my dad. I’ve tried to make dents in it over the years, but I’m so tired of it.
Next month I’m moving away with my boyfriend of two years into a new apartment, and I’m terrified of repeating the cycle. It’s been a lifelong dream to live in a clean, comfortable home, and I want to create that with him.
I have some hoarding compulsions, but I’m working on them, and I really believe that I’ll be able to control myself if I’m able to get a fresh start, but the bigger issue is that I just have no idea how to keep a clean house. I’m able to keep myself and my clothes clean, but when it comes to cleaning my space, I’m clueless. I can scrub the toilet or the sink or the counter when I notice it has become grimy, but how to I keep it from happening in the first place?
What can I do to keep my new home clean from the beginning?
Do most homemakers have a daily routine of some sort? The idea of cleaning everything every single day is overwhelming, but I want to learn so that I don’t bring my past into my future.

The history test will be done in four segments each of which going over a specific period or event that takes place in Bundesnachda.
Segment 1: The Kokatiel Family Massacre
Duncan Kokatiel was a man praised for his aid in the war for Shibuya. He was initially a humble Bundesnachdan goat breeder but upon the request of General Noah he began to breed the goats as 'Bundesnachdan War Goats' to help bring the south side victory. The goats bred in Bundesnachda were ideal for war as they had an unbelievable amount of natural aggression, so much so that they are not allowed around children under the age of sixteen to this very day due to their insatiable hunger for human flesh. These goats were used to stop the southern Bundesnachdan residents from fleeing to hide in the north side before the dome was placed, leading to the events of 'The Great Bundesnachdan Feast'. Duncan Kokatiel however was driven to madness raising these war goats as it was not the same as raising a regular goat, to raise a war goat they had to be raised on human meat rather than the normal kibble. This festered their aggression and made them far more violent, but the madness Duncan developed did not come from their aggression it came from the souls as Bundesnachdan goats can be possessed temporarily by the souls of the flesh they consume. Day by day raising these goats for the war consumed his sanity they whispered the words of the dammed in his hear. Soon after the war his insanity consumed him and he went on a wild rampage killing his wife, daughter, brother and two sons obtaining a pentakill. He did the murders using his prized possession, a shotgun he called 'The Collector'. This event caused his exile and he has not been seen since.
Segment 2: The National Celebration of John Bundas second marriage
A modern historic event that occurred is John Bundas forty seventh marriage to the Hamburger Helper Hand. Only a few years ago John got a divorce from his then 46th wife Beyoncé Bunda. Therefore as is tradition and Law in Bundesnachda he ate her. As many of you will know when a man divorces a woman in Bundesnachda it is customary that he air fryes her and eats her with is children (In bundesnacha the air fryer was invented before the flintlock pistol).
When John Bunda married soon to be Hamburger Helper Hand Bunda it is believed to be the biggest party in Bundesnachdan history, it lasted 5 days and 5 nights many people died during but when they did the party go-ers would just collect and cook up the corpse and eat it, John Bunda labled this strategy as 'Getting Party Fuel'. The 5 days were mesmerising people of all ages, drinking, smoking and finding joy it was truly blissful, you would look out your window and all you would see is a sea of perky nipples and smiles.
After the end of the 5 days John Bunda gave a wedding gift to his people, he stuffed a bunch of at the time mysterious purple objects into a giant cannon. Then BOOM a flurry of thousands of Rabbadon's Death Caps flew into the crowd as his people cheered. "THIS IS MY GIFT TO YOU, THAT YOU FOR COMING!" John Bunda screamed and that concluded not only the biggest party ever thrown but also the best marriage in Bundesnachdan History.
Segment 3: The Tunnels Below Bundesnachda
A lesser spoken of part of Bundesnachdan history is John Bundas colonisation of the land. In 5 BBC, soon after arriving to the island and forging a family with the chimps John Bunda encountered the original inhabitants of the land... The Gnomes. They were incredibly aggressive toward Mr Bunda and the chmips and despite their best effort would not agree to join forces with them to create the wonderful nation we live in today. After their many disputes with the new self-proclaimed leader of what he was now calling 'Bundesnachda' the Gnomes would scurry back to their tunnels. The Gnomes lived in what was discovered to be a tunnel system filled with many colonies of Gnomes. They sustained themselves using strange liquids and fruits they found and grew in their tunnels, some say these strange now extinct 'Bundesnachdan Delicacies' are the key to what made John Bunda immortal and why he is still alive and healthy to this day. Although things changed for the Gnomes when the glorious John Bunda and his chimps grew sick of the vile gnomes refusal to join them when suddenly one of Bundesnachdas first miracles occurred, one of the chimps spoke to John and he said... "John our glorious and kind hearted leader, we cannot grow to be the greatest nation to ever exist if these evil gnomes do not follow us I know what we must do..." John then asked the chimp what we had to do, the chimp then spoke of the first great war strategies in Bundesnachda 'The great Gnome Flush' the chimps plan was as follows: "John, first we must erect.. hehehe I said erect. Anyway we must erect a giant forge the size of witch the world has never seen and within that forge we must melt millions of gallons of metal and pour it into the gnomes tunnels capturing all of them and their homes in an eternity of a metal prison." A tear flew down John Bundas cheek when he heard the idea, it was a stroke of pure genius, he was in disbelief not only because of his tremendous respect for the idea but also at the fact that mere moments ago this chimpanzee could only make chimp sounds and now it can speak fluent English. They got to work, in only 3 hours John Bunda and 3 other chimps built what we now know as the 'Great Tower of Bunda Apartment Building' but at the time was a forge to melt metal, this forge was twice the size of the current empire state building in New York. They quickly melted all the required material that the other chimps mined before pouring it into the Gnomes tunnels using a comedically large funnel. What's great is you can view the entire frozen in metal Gnome tunnel system today as it's on display at the Ambassing Museum in Shibuya.

Something stirred in the trashcan.
It was night. Deep night.
The trashcan swayed to and fro.
This was not the first time the can had moved that night. A few hours ago, when the grounds were covered by the darkness of the end of twilight rather than the darkness of the deep night, a young woman wearing a black t-shirt and black pants had walked out of her house to deposit a tied garbage bag into the can. She was around 25 years old and was unnaturally pale due to the use of makeup. Her hair was black, and she had bangs. An annoyed frown was on her face, as if stepping outside into suburbia was a disgusting experience. After depositing the trash in the trashcan, she had turned and walked back into the house – not noticing the way the can had given a little shake the moment she'd turned her back.
Now, under a starry sky, the can swayed to and fro.
“HIIA!!!” came a shout from within, and the trashcan toppled to the ground. Its contents – garbage bags, compost, and a little clown – spilled all over the place.
The little clown stood on its feet. It was small, only a few inches tall from top to bottom. This little clown was bald and covered in white face paint – or was that his skin color? He had tiny ear holes where his ears would go and big floppy shoes that were at least as big as the rest of his body. On his back was a backpack. He had been eating garbage, but at that moment, his nose had come off.
“EEK!” the clown shouted, pointing at his red nose, which was bouncing merely towards the house. He ran after it, but the was faster, and it bounced through a little cat door and left its owner stumbling in the dark. Yet the clown did not see it vanish into the cat door, as the grass between him and the nose was tall as a forest of trees from his perspective. All he could do was follow the red paint marks on the ground from where his nose had bounced.
The little clown sat there on the sidewalk, rubbing his rump. He then sprung to his feet (shoes making a little squishy sound as this happened) and began walking away from the spilled trash. He soon found himself walking in the green grass of the house's yard. The grass almost came up to his head. He strolled through the grass, his feet making little squishy sounds with every step he took. He eventually found himself feeling very uncomfortable in the tall grass. Anything could come and ambush him here. So instead, he turned around and walked back to the sidewalk. For several long, agonizing moments, he panicked, wondering if he was even going the right direction to get back on the sidewalk or whether he was going deeper and deeper into the grass. Because of the thickness of the grass (to him) he couldn't see very far ahead of him; he would hardly know if he was going in the right direction if not for the red paint left behind by his obstinate nose.
Whew! Close one, that.
Now he was back on the sidewalk, facing the gigantic garbage mountain and tipped over trashcan. He gazed in trepidation at the gigantic pile of trash. He would have to walk around it.
This didn't take too long, just a few moments. Traveling was easier when one could see where they were going! The tiny clown soon found himself on the other side of the pile of trash – and found himself facing a gigantic creature.
Raccoon. This he knew from the markings and the general size of the creature. Raccoons were dangerous.
“EYYEYAAA!!!” The clown gave a little shriek and dived into the trash. The raccoon snarled and jumped in after him.
Rather than emerging from the other side, the clown climbed the mountain of trash, and, when he had reached the top – used his giant shoes to jump off the trash pile onto the other side where he'd encountered the raccoon. Then he ran as fast as he could on the sidewalk, putting as much distance as possible between him and the raccoon. He didn't stop running until he had found himself face to face with the giant door leading into the human house. At the bottom of the door was a flap twice as tall as the clown. The clown pushed against the flap, and it swung open! His mind still on the raccoon, he stepped through, allowing the flap to close behind him.
Now the clown stood inside a dark room. To him, it was like a castle, a castle of darkness. Luckily, his clown eyes saw better in the dark than they did in the light. Red paint marks veered off to the left, but the clown was curious and decided he would explore this place before trying to find his nose.
Moving across the floor, the clown took off his backpack and took a grappling hook out. Swinging it like an expert, he threw it towards the counter way above him. Clink!
Like a pro, the little clown climbed up the rope and hoisted himself onto the counter. He lay there, panting a bit. He righted himself and made his way across the counter. There was a bright white light attached to the wall – a nightlight for the humans to see. Putting his arms up to block the intense light, he crossed this area and soon found himself perched at the edge of a fruit bowl. The fruit bowl was close to a window that overlooked the backyard. Suffice to say he had a nice little feast for himself taking a bite out of everything – though finishing nothing. By the end, he was burping in contentment, his burps coming out of him in little green clouds shaped like hippos that danced in the air as they floated to other parts of the house. Two of these green clouds floated up to its each other, and, standing on their hind legs, began to waltz happily through the air. Bathed in starlight coming in from the window by the fruit bowl, the clown watched them with a big smile stretching from ear to ear. Slowly, the smile vanished, and tears started to flow from his eyes. He looked away, unwilling to watch anymore.
Instead, he gazed out the window, into the backyard, where he could gaze up at the starry sky and in the distance could see the neon sign which read Clown Park. His home. The place hidden in the human world, which they could not see – not yet. Humans did not know that his kind existed, and if they did, who knows how they would react? He had to return to his home. It would take so long to walk the distance. But he needed his nose...
Setting his face into a hard line, the clown forced himself onto his feet and wobbled over (eating so much had visibly made him almost round like a ball) to the grappling hook still attached to the counter. He unattached it and stuffed it back into his backpack. Then, his shoes still making their squishy sounds, he walked back past the nightlight and further on in the direction he hadn't been yet. He searched for his nose, following the paint.
He used his grappling hook to go from counter to counter, and he searched every square inch. He knew it was here somewhere. He eventually left the kitchen and made his way down a hallway, his squishy shoes making him wince as he walked down it. He took a right into a room where almost everything was the color of cream, and which was smaller than the kitchen. The bathroom. This place he searched as well, but found no balloon, nor anything else of his save for one of the burp hippos sitting at the edge of the toilet and using it, apparently. He left the bathroom and made his way at last into the room he feared most: the bedroom. This room was the darkest of all. No nightlight. Windows, yes, but they were covered by black curtains. Of course, it was not the darkness of the room that bother him, but rather the giant who occupied the gigantic bed. She was the human who owned this house. She was a scary one, even among the humans, often listening to terrifying music that spoke words of suffering and spiders. It was her music that had caused him to topple from his balloon as he was surveying the human town. He had run and hid and had been lurking around the yard and house ever since then. He had landed on his nose, which had triggered the nose into an angry fit, and now the nose had run away. He needed it to return. This was the only room he had never checked. Now the object of his terror lay before him, on her side, sleeping. Her pajamas, black like every other piece of clothing she wore. It was a buttoned pajama shirt with a pocket in the front over her chest. And his nose was situated on the tip of her shoulder.
Trying not to scream in alarm, the clown wagged his finger at his nose and pointed to his face pleadingly. His nose blew angrily at him, sounding like a raspberry. Then, to his horror, it bounced into the woman's front pj pocket, vanishing from view. He glanced at a nightstand in the far end of the room and noticed a baseball bat leaning against it. How strange. The tiny clown did not know much about humans, but he did know about baseball, and something told him this woman wasn't a baseball player. Plus, why did it have spikes sticking out of it?
The clown hoped with hope against hope with all the hope in his little clown body that his noce would see reason and bounce out of the human's pocket before she woke. But nothing happened.
Dread filled his little heart.
No, that couldn't be true. It was too terrible to be true. Deep down, he knew it was useless to keep pretending that he wouldn't have to put himself in the human's pocket and risk waking her. Humans didn't believe in tiny clowns, they were so arrogant they thought they were the only sapient race. What would this human do if she found proof against her worldview inside her pj pocket?
The little clown tossed his grappling hook across the air. It fell to the ground. Arms shaking in fear, he wheeled it back in and and tossed it again, this time leaning at the very edge of the nightstand with the tips of his toes. Click!
He climbed the line towards the bed, like a trapeze walker. Eventually he came to the edge of the bed and navigated through it.
His feet sank into the mattress. He hated it. It felt like quicksand. This was the least of his worries. When at last he was level with the sleeping giant, he carefully, carefully began to climb up her body holding tightly to the fabric of her buttoned pajama shirt to climb. At last, he was level with the pocket. He reached inside...and leaned so far he fell inside.
“OOF!” he called out as he hit his head on the key.
The giant must have felt this somehow. She tossed in her sleep, and the clown was sent flying – bouncing to and fro inside her pj shirt pocket.
Things went worse from there. The waltzing hippo burps had slowly waltzed their way into the room and waltzed themselves right into the woman's nostrils, even as his nose resisted his grasp and blew pink snot into a piece of cloth in the human's pocket, her hanky.
The woman twitched in discomfort in her sleep. The clown was sent flying again, and this time his squishy shoes pressed against her chest. He reached out and pressed the nose into his face, forcing it back on. He reached out and grabbed onto something – the hanky, the only thing inside the pocket that was actually meant to be there.
The woman, already starting to wake, rolled over onto her side – landing on the sharp grappling hook at the edge of her mattress.
“Oomph!” she grunted and woke. Desperate, the clown tried to crawl out of the pocket, but the woman was already sitting up. If he did this, he would be caught.
“Huh?” the woman said, feeling the grappling hook with her fingers. She squinted down at it. Her eyes not yet fully adjusted to the dark, she flipped on the switch to turn the lantern by her bed on. "What the hell are you?" she asked. Then, squinting down it again and looking at her ribs, her eyes widened in alarm as she realized it had cut into her pj's and had made a little bloody cut in her skin.
Glancing in all directions, she reached into her pocket for her hanky to pull it out... and ended up holding the tiny clown instead.
Her eyes widened in alarm as she stared at the clown and he stared back at her. “Am I dreaming?” She cocked her head to the side. She squinted at the clown, and the clown thought to himself it was a kind of angry, disgusted squint. “What the hell is this?” she asked, and her voice had a mean edge to it.
“OWW!!!”
She screamed in pain as the clowns sharp fangs were sunk into her finger. The clown used the woman's wrist as a springboard to bounce off – directed perfectly so he flew towards her nightstand with the key outstretched.
The woman clutched her smashed finger to her chest, cursing and screaming in pain and anger – just as the tiny clown unlocked the container and took his deflated balloon out. He snatched the grappling hook and put it in his backpack and jumped off the nightstand.
“LITTLE FUCK!!!” the woman shouted in rage, running towards the clown with her non-bleeding hand outstretched. Seeming to think better of this plan, she reached out grabbed the baseball bat that had been leaning against the wall.
“I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!! YOU DON'T MESS WITH A GOTHIC BITCH, ESPECIALLY NOT IN HER OWN HOUSE! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!”
Oh.
So that was what that baseball bat had been for.
The tiny clown ran across the hallway as fast as his little legs could carry him. With every squishy little step, he inhaled into the balloon.
The Goth girl smashed the baseball bat hard into the ground, missing the poor guy by literally less than half an inch. She had swung it just a LITTLE too far ahead of him.
Unfortunately, he was going so fast that he smacked right into it.
Literal stars flew around as his head as he toppled over onto his back. Immediately, he played dead, sticking his tongue out of his open mouth and closing his eyes. The woman was bending down to look at him, he knew this through squinting out of his eyes. In his left hand was the string of the balloon – a balloon which was slowly coming to life with all the air he'd blown into it...
“Are you the demon that came for me because I played with Ouija board?” muttered the Goth. She made as if to reach down and pick him up, but, thinking of her injured hand, hoisted the bat above her head. One more hit just to be sure...
“HIIA!!!” the tiny clown shouted, and the balloon went flying into the air with him attached. He bounced off the nose of the woman (“BOOP!” cried the clown) and flew towards the cat door.
The Goth gave chase. She collided with a bunch of dancing hippos. She doubled over, gagging, her eyes an expression of shock at what she was seeing. A clown's gag is a powerful smell for humans, not easily described.
The clown soared through the cat door, flew over the trash pile (which was now crawling with at least three raccoons and flew upwards towards the sky.
In the distance, Clown Park awaited. Hundreds, no thousands of other clowns ready to hear his adventure. He could already see the gigantic face in the sky which was the entrance to Clown Park, gigantic, with a red nose and a jester's hat.
It winked at him as he approached.

There seems to be plenty of food and drink described in KKC
In the Waystone Kvothe has stew ready to go, he provides pie, sausages, hard cheeses, apples etc... Kvothe describes the food he eats on the road from Tarbean to Imre, the food in the mess hall at the University, the food he splits with Auri, the food at Ankers, the trout Elxa Dal eats, sweet cakes stolen from Simmon, and so much more..food is mentioned a lot.
In The Wise Mans Fear, Kvothe describes getting into Ankers late. Anker left him a squash with a generous dollop of butter. For some reason I always crave that when I read it, I do not know why, I don't even really like squash.
What KKC food do you want to eat after you read about it?

So, as the title suggests my mum (42 F) has been telling me to move out if I (Just became a teen 4 months ago) don't like it here/because i'm rude/ becuase i'm a spoiled brat (I don't think I am). Another reason is because I don't talk to her for long when i'm at my dad's every other weekend (she makes the conversation go on longer than needed by bringing up topics she's told me many times that week), and I practically worship my father (he cheated on her around the time I was 1-2). I don't worship my father but if I'm being honest I do like him more than my mum.
Anyway, today it all came to a head, she got paid today and took us out to get me some new shoes and food shop (and got herself Angel's Delight Icecream and another one(not important, but it does play a small role)). When we got back, she ordered a kebab from a shop, got mad at the poor person on the phone because we would have to go to their google site to order with card, then after the meal, I was stuffed to the brim, she made me have a slice of pizza (I could only manage a bite), then she asked me if i wanted any icecream, I said "no thank you" and she ended up making it for me anyway. I had 3 bites to try make her happy but that was all I could eat.
Anyway, after that she started laying into me about how I'm a brat and how she deserves more respect, stuff like that (I have a bad memory). Now's she's gone bed and I'm sitting here wondering what I should do, I'm afraid to tell my dad about this cause I don't know what his reaction will be. We had decided just us at my next birthday I would have a trial period living with him.
Now I'm asking you what I should do.
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Edit: Sorry If this didn't make sense, If you want more details ask me in the comments and I'll reply

I 23f have been with my partner 24m for about 6 months now. I love him dearly and I would do anything for him but I also don't seem to be enough for him. He told me from the very beginning that he's Polly which I have tried really hard to understand and be okay with but I don't think I can be okay with this. He's literally the best guy I have ever met. I've tried going on dates to other people to no avail. He is respectful and sweet and caring and I feel like we work well together but he still wants to see other people. He told me that he has plans this weekend to see another girl and make her dinner and even skip work for her. In return I made plans with a guy who liked one of my photos on my other account. He says I can go see other people too but I don't want to, I only want him. I Don't even know why I am seeing this other guy. I really just want to be with my BF but he wants more and I don't know how to be enough for him. Everybody says love isn't quantitative and you can't just run out. It's an endless spicket of love that doesn't stop but my love does stop. I like to use the Oreo analogy. He has a box of Oreos and he is just handing out plain old double stuffed Oreos to everybody. I have Oreos too but my Oreos come in all different flavors and mine come with a glass of milk and mine come with chocolate and sprinkles and icing to make cute decorated cookies. It feels wrong that I'm giving him so much to just receive one double stuffed Oreo with no milk and return. He says he likes me more than just sexually and that he wants to be together but he's not 100% there yet. I can't tell him I love him until he's 100% there which is killing me. I keep almost slipping up. I know I'm jealous, but aren't we all? Isn't that the point? He shows me he loves me in other ways But we have an amazing time together then he goes and hooks up with another girl and then I get really self-conscious and anxious and sad and I haven't urged to end everything. I feel like I'm being cheated on even though I know I agreed to this. Any thoughts questions comments or concerns? I'm sorry this is a lot I just kind of word vomited onto my phone screen. I hope this makes sense.