Cricket And The Counselor

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lake_wrangler
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by lake_wrangler »

Hey! I'm reading!

AS I mentioned in the "Paul's moving" thread, I was busy with a bicycle trip, so I haven't been very vocal, lately. But I'm reading! Don't give up!
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

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"Turns out, meth's effects on fae is slightly more beneficial than it is for humans," I continued. "Those who have issues similar to what Cavin has found that their psychotic episodes could be controlled by the drug."

Monica's eyes had widened at this point.

"And the addictive part of meth?"

I looked at Calista with a sympathetic eye.

"As bad, if not worse, for fae." I turned to Monica. "You're well aware of the meth trade on our side of the border. Most of the meth that's found in the Twin Cities comes from the Hudson area, and points east." I gave a hesitant look at Calista. "Cavin was arrested by Saint Croix County Sheriffs with a bunch of the stuff."

"Thirty," came a small voice across the table.

"What?" Monica was startled to hear Calista speak.

"Thirty pounds of the stuff," she said. "They had to use practically every deputy in the county, along with some DEA agents and the FBI to arrest him."

Monica let out a slow whistle.

"He did enough damage to get himself sentenced to 10 years. The main argument was whether or not he should go to us or to MJTC – Mendota Juvenile Treatment Center," I explained quickly, "a psychiatric facility that houses male youth with severe psychological disorders."

"I'm familiar with Mendota," Monica said. "That's a mental institution north of Madison, right?"

I nodded.

"Just on the other side of the lake from UW," I said. "An emergency hearing was called the day after his arrest. Usually, it takes kids a month or so before they're placed by us." I looked at Calista. "This wasn't Cavin's first arrest in Wisconsin, though."

Calista looked away uncomfortably.

"He had a list of priors, even though he was listed as a Minnesota resident. In fact, he was what, three days away from a court hearing at Hennepin Juvie?" I asked.

Calista rolled her eyes at the statement. She held up two fingers.

"Yeah," I acknowledged. "So Saint Croix demanded that he be placed and evaluated at my facility over in mid-state. Cavin and his court-appointed legal team didn't object, so he ended up by me."

I sat back, blew out a sigh, and held up three fingers.

"That leads us to the third thing."
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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jwhouk
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

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Readers of Wapsi Square may wonder what exactly goes into the ways that paranormal beings "blend in" to normal society. Paul Taylor hasn't gone into specifics, but from what you can glean from the strip, it is a learned behavior – akin to reading, writing, and arithmetic. Controlling how you appear to others – normal and paranormal alike – is something that is taught.

How this occurs, of course, is different between various types of paras; some physical traits of a particular type of paranormal cannot be "hidden" – witness Atsali's troubles with her breasts, as example. Some of them aren't "perfect", either – Castela will probably always have a blue-green tinge to her "skin" color, even upon mastering transformation of her eyes and hair. Even Calista has minor issues, in that her legs and hands are a bit abnormally "stocky" for a regular human being.

Throwing a wrench into the works is when a being has no control over their "transformation." Or, if it takes them such great concentration to deal with maintaining their appearance, they lose control over another aspect of their paranormal self.

Consider if, say, a bear-kin needed all its concentration to maintain appearance – but lost their ability to speak as a result. Or for those who would transform into a winged creature, they couldn't keep from having their wings suddenly appear – in full magnitude.

Or, if a fae with a damaged antenna and already experiencing psychosis, couldn't control their "gossamer" projections…
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

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(An aside: if you don't believe me about the meth trade in NW/NC Wisconsin - read this: Tomahawk bust yields Meth, Cash, Car)
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Sgt. Howard
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by Sgt. Howard »

A VERY interesting read... meth is beneficial to fey? Yuck! I've seen what it does to humans- not pretty. But then I also know how certain ADD types SLOW DOWN on caffeine- is it that sort of thing?
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

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Hey, they never told me why. They just said that in therapeutic doses, it apparently has a positive effect on aggression.

The problem is, it is still highly addictive...
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

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"Jin was very specific with me," I stated. "He would likely and suddenly project gossamer 'ghost beings' at myself and my fellow staff, and those projections would be dangerous."

"How… dangerous… are we talking?" Monica asked.

I looked at Calista.

"May I explain?"

She nodded.

"The main reason why fae are disliked in the paranormal world is not because they are indestructible," I began. "It's because of these 'gossamers' that they create. They can make projections of anything – large beasts, amorphous monsters…" I gave Calista a sidelong glance. "…and clones of themselves. A handful of fae could project themselves to appear to be an army several thousand-fold in size."

I looked directly at Calista now.

"And they don't just go away when you wave your hands, or you breathe on them. They have substance, and force, and – most scarily – the same emotional mindset of the projecting fae."

"That… explains things," Monica said quietly.

"Jin made it very clear to me that the only way to reduce the effect of the gossamers was for the outside observer to understand and believe that the projection wasn't 'real'. Once that happens, the projection's effects would wear off on the observer – but not on others."

"So," Monica asked, "Everyone would have to believe the projection wasn't real, or the gossamer wouldn't go away?"

"No," I replied, keeping my eyes directly on Calista – who had a blank stare at this point. "The observer who understood the projection's unreality would be able to walk through what everyone else thought was real. And they would see the fae for what they really were – not the transformation that they were projecting."

Calista looked down – she was crying softly.

"I walked right through the monster he'd projected, and found him cowering in the corner of his room," I explained quietly. "I immediately saw he had shrunk down to his 18-inch true height – and that he was missing one antennae. I'm sorry, Calista…"

"It was his own damn fault," she said between quiet sobs. "He thought he could use his blanket to fly. When he fell out of that damn tree, I saw his left antenna catch on one of the branches…"

She buried her head in her hands.

"…and break off…"
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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lake_wrangler
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by lake_wrangler »

Truly captivating!
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jwhouk
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

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(Another side note: this episode happened well after the events of TC&TS. What happened between me and Cavin occurred shortly after Neil proposed to Phix.)
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

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Monica and I spent a good half-hour consoling Cricket. Monica used her hugs, while I just sat in silence, occasionally providing backup with M's reassurance.

"Jin made it clear to me that the problem of losing projection isn't common to one 'species' of paranormals," I began after Calista had finally wiped the last tears from her eyes.

"Yeah, that's right," Monica mentioned, even as Calista blew her nose loudly. "It can happen during times of high distress, or when hurt or injured – like Cavin was…"

Or if you don't hear your native tongue spoken, came that voice again.

All three of us turned as Helga stood there by us. Her face was no longer that of a blonde maiden from Bavaria, but was that of a golden-furred housecat.

"The Library turned up the volume for me," she explained. "My grandparents were from Germany; they left the Fatherland during World War I and emigrated to the US. I learned how to project from them – and, since they spoke nothing but Deutsche, that was my association with projection." She closed her feline-like eyes for a moment. "If I hear German being spoken, I can maintain my form without difficulty. I learned how to rely on 'singing to myself' to maintain focus, but…" She looked down. "Well, you can see the success rate."

"Das is nicht gut," I said without need of help. I waved a hand up. "Fifth generation German immigrant. Great grandpa looked like he'd walked off the side of a beer stein."

She smiled, her face having quickly reverted to the blonde maiden.

"I thought I detected a Wisconsin accent from you," she replied. "And your scent indicates you have some Bohemian in you as well?"

"Now you know why I'm in love with this place," I said, sweeping my hand toward the balcony.

She laughed with a slight purr.

"Honey, things like what your brother is going through can be overcome," she explained, looking down at Cricket. "I understand he's in a great deal of trouble, yes – but I also understand he's somewhere right now where he can get help."

"Where?" Calista asked, honestly. "They never told me where he'd been taken after… well, what happened."

"I have no idea either," I stated. "The MIB – your two friends, by the way (I pointed at Monica) – hauled him off for someplace, without saying where."

"They never told me anything," Monica replied.

"It's not far from the Twin Cities," Helga stated. "In fact, you'd be stunned to know where it is."

"Under the Metrodome?" I chuckled wryly.

"Nein, du Esel," she chided me softly. "It's at the Mayo Clinic, down in Rochester."

"How would you know?" Calista asked.

"My brother is there as well," she said.
Last edited by jwhouk on Sat Jul 18, 2015 10:40 am, edited 1 time in total.
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Dave
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by Dave »

jwhouk wrote:Her name is Helga, which we will find out in a bit.

...She's actually from Wisconsin, by way of Pennsylvania.
My maternal line is from that Pennsylvania German heritage... grandfather George Emil Berner was born in the U.S. but his parents were born in Germany, grandmother's family was Bauer and Bickel if I recall properly.

My grandfather was a doctor, and had been raised speaking excellent English with a local accent, so his background wasn't immediately obvious. One day, he happened to have stopped in a small town outside of Philadelphia and went into a country store to buy something or other. There were a number of the Pennsylvania Deutsch equivalent of "good old boys" hanging around, and while George was dealing with the store clerk a few of them made some rather snarky comments back and forth in German about the "city boy English" visitor. George didn't react, just finished his purchase, took his goods, turned to go, said "Gentlemen, I have quite enjoyed hearing your discussion" (in perfect German) and departed.

I imagine you could have heard a pin drop. :lol:

I have no particular reason to believe I have any German felidamorph ancestry, though.
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

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Truly astounding concept- psychosis from a broken antenna- combine with the ability to project imagery with mass and weight (unless you convince yourself it ain't real) and can therapeutically be controlled with meth... to a degree... wow. Fascinating read
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

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Monica and Calista went back to their "studies" – after Helga gave them some contacts at the Mayo Clinic, where Cricket could get a hold of her brother.

I took the opportunity to take my leave, noting that it was getting close to the time when I'd need to be back home. Before I could go, though, Calista gave me a huge hug.

"I'm sorry for what happened," I said to her quietly.

"Thank you," she said. "You've helped."

Monica shook my hand – "Gotta keep it professional," she said with a smile – and we went our separate ways.

The Transport System got me back to my portal – in fact, it dropped me off right in front of the lobby where I had entered the Library.

"Wow," I marveled as I stepped into the small lobby. I hadn't notice that the transport system had doors there. When I turned around to look, the transporter doors had disappeared. Only the stacks were visible.

I considered that for a moment, then turned back around to face the doors.

They were all marked correctly this time.

I was still a bit tentative when I opened the door to the exit, but it led me into that familiar small vestibule, then out the door into the warm, sunny Wisconsin afternoon.

Phix must have talked to her, I thought. Either that or reading that recipe last time got her attention.

I quickly closed the door – seeing that the gentleman across the way had finished cutting his lawn – and took the long walk back home.
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

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EPILOGUE

When I finally got home, I was pretty much ready to collapse – note to self: next time, suck it up and drive up there – walking home resulted in needing Benadryl and pain pills.

I was so wiped that I didn't immediately notice a late-model LTD parked outside my apartment building. As I walked down the sidewalk on the opposite end of the courtyard, I noticed two people getting out – both in dark trench coats.

I had to blink my eyes a few times to focus, but I immediately recognized them both.

"NOW what?" I mumbled to myself as I walked up to the outside entrance of my apartment.

The two of them were there, waiting for me.

"Mr. Houk," the older one said in greeting. "Just got back from the Library?"

"Next time, I'm driving," I said. "You two need something?"

"Cavin's case was transferred to Federal jurisdiction – officially – this morning," the redhead informed me. The two of them seemed to be glowing from the angle of the sun, setting in the west.

"Does that mean I'm not going to be seeing him again?" I asked, squinting a bit – but intentionally keeping my eye on the redhead.

"He's going to be down at the Rochester facility for a long time," the gal in dreadlocks informed me. "The good news is, my grand-daughter's friend is going to be able to visit him easier down there."

"What about that other kid, the one Epimethus caught?" I asked.

"Well…" the redhead began.

"Joe?" My wife peeked out from the patio door. "Who are these two?"

I looked at her, then at them.

"These two are FBI agents," I told her. "They were the ones who dealt with that kid after my incident with him back in March. I looked at them both, tilting my head as if to say, well?

Dreads pulled out her badge.

"Agent Pratt," she said, showing it to my wife. "This is my partner, Agent McBride." The redhead pulled out her own ID and badge. "We wanted to follow up with your husband about the young man who attacked him."

"I thought you said he never touched you," Sarah looked at me through the screen.

"He didn't." My eyes darted quickly at both Pratt and McBride. "He tried to do something, but I handled it." I was shaking my head, more towards the two agents than at Sarah.

McBride picked up on it.

"Yeah, the kid was just special needs, was having trauma issues," she lied quickly. "He's at a place now where he's going to get help." She looked at Pratt. "And I don't think we need to bother Mr. Houk any more tonight, while he's home with his wife?"

Lily picked up on what was going on.

"Sure, sure," she nodded. "Uh, there was something… that we needed to just debrief your, uh, husband on, though."

"Since he's apparently not working tonight?" McBride turned her head towards me.

I shook my head and mouthed, off towards her.

"Well," Sarah looked at the two unsteadily. "I need to take a shower – how long do you need to talk?"

"Not long," I interjected. "I think I can walk them back to their car, actually. They need to be back in the Twin Cities by tonight, I would presume."

"Okay, well, I'll go get cleaned up," Sarah said. She slid the patio door closed.

Meanwhile, I gave the two of them a look.

"My wife does not KNOW," I said through clenched teeth.

"Figured." Suzi looked down.

"We can talk by the car," Lily said, eyes closed in frustration.

I escorted the two back to the LTD.

"You just have this thing about not wanting us in your apartment?" Suzi asked in irritation. "It's not like we're going to go feral on you or something."

"My wife's not in on the paranormal stuff," I said quickly. "And I sure as hell am not going to tell her what exactly happened to me, either."

"Starting to sound like Miss Villareal," Lily said with a sidelong glance.

"Yeah, touche. But," I raised a finger, "I don't have her figure, nor her powers."

"Got the height, though." Suzi gave a wry smile.

I looked around for a moment.

"That other kid you were talking about," I stated, getting back to the earlier conversation.

"Obviously, the one's on a slab," Lily touched her fingers to count off. "The second one ain't gettin' out of intensive care for a while. The third one – well, we got him to talk, but we're still working on things."

"Good thing is, it looks like Cavin was the youngest of the group involved." Suzi folded her arms, leaning against the LTD. "That probably means we won't be dealing with your facility in the near future."

"Hopefully," Lily added. "We'll keep in touch." She walked around to get in the car.

"Tell Kath I said hi," I said, stepping away from them. "And thanks for her help."

Lily only nodded. Suzi looked down for a moment.

"Sorry, again."

I raised my hand dismissively.

"No big deal. Just watch it in the future."

Suzi got in the car, and the two of them pulled out and away.

That was when I started sneezing.

Benadryl was my only thought at that point.
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

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Bravo!!!
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by AmriloJim »

[nitpick] Late-model cars are of recent design. Although there is no hard-and-fast rule, 'late-model' cars are usually not more than five model years old.

The Ford LTD Crown Victoria was produced for model years 1983-1991. (Agent Kay's unit was an '87.) What Crown Vic aficionados call the "first generation" Crown Vic are from '92 through '98. "Second generation" Vics used the same body platform '99 through '12.

Therefore, LTDs and 1st-gen CVs are not 'late-model'.

My '99 P71 (Crown Victoria Police Interceptor - "P71" is a VIN sequence designating the police package) stretches the 'late-model' moniker... a 17-year old car that most people cannot distinguish from a four-year-old '12. [/nitpick]
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by jwhouk »

[nitpick the nitpick]I used to work at a Ford dealer. I used the term "late model" ironically - and somewhat indicative of the driver.[/nitpick] ;)
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"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by AmriloJim »

Point taken, JW. BTW, all LTDs will be eligible for Texas 'antique' license plates in two weeks, as the '91 model year celebrates it's 25th.
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

Post by Dave »

Should we take suggestions for just what sorts of vehicles the Undead should be driving?

Edsels? Trabis?
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Re: Cricket And The Counselor

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Dave wrote:Should we take suggestions for just what sorts of vehicles the Undead should be driving?

Edsels? Trabis?
I nominate the Gremlin- possibly the Pinto... as in "Put In Nickel To Operate"
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
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