Wapsi Square Forum

AmriloJim wrote:

jwhouk wrote:You... you... you have GOT to be ####ING ME.

I #### you not...

Sooo- sixteen years from now, Georgette sports whiskers...?

Raise your hand if you knew this was going to happen:
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I pulled the E65 into one of the supercharger bays outside the school building. I'd been driving the thing now for nearly a dozen years, and I still had a tinge of regret every time I had to pry myself away from the controls. As of late, of course, it'd seemed like I was peeling myself off the pleather seats. The still-hot weather in Arizona had a way of doing that to cars, even those with solar-tinted roof glass and automatic air conditioning.

The AC had been the reason why my charging times had gone up in recent months, but the school didn't say anything to him about the extra wattage. They really didn't need to, since the entire supercharger was part of a solar array that the Academy had spread out on the south side of the Salt River, just outside of downtown Mesa.

I pondered for a moment my fortune as I set up the charger for my car. Just a few months before I was set to retire from the State of Wisconsin, I'd gotten a tip from an acquaintance that a certain school located in the Twin Cities was looking to expand their campuses around the country. One of them was opening in Mesa, and they were going to need some staff – perhaps a security liaison?

I couldn't agree to the job fast enough. I filed my retirement papers, and took the position. The Academy and its Board of Directors were all too happy to foot the bill for our move down to Apache Junction, even going so far as to providing us a newer trailer home in a nicer park, and a showroom model Type E from Tesla of Phoenix.

The charger was in place, and the electricity "recycled" from the sun refilled the battery packs through the elaborate process that I didn't pretend to understand. And yet, as wondrous as the whole idea of an electric car was to someone of his 60-plus years, it wasn't even the most mystifying thing he would encounter on the day.

For starters, there was the rose-skinned Whatsit that was standing on the curb next to the supercharger, tapping her feet and crossing her arms in mock annoyance.

"You- you know, I used ta get demerits for bein' as late as you, you are," she said as I grabbed my bag from the "frunk" of the Tesla.

"I find it hard to believe anyone would give you any grief, Castela," I said while closing the hood of the E65. "I'm not that late. The dance just started, and you know how bad things get on the 60 nowadays."

She rolled her eyes in mock annoyance.

"Yeah, but how much, much of that was in the HOV lane, anyways?"

"It's not the HOV lane that's the problem. It's getting across six lanes of traffic to your exit." We took the walk up to the entrance gate of the Academy.

To the untrained eye, the building looked inconspicuous to the passer-by. The fence around the building was mostly adobe wall, with a simple barbed-wire abutment at the top to discourage trespassers. The gate was a southwestern-themed iron gate with the outstretched wings of a gryphon adorning the metalwork. I slid open the access panel built into the wall, swiped on the screen and tapped a few buttons on the screen.

The gate opened to reveal a relatively simple building; again in the typical Southwestern style – flat roof, sandstone yellow exterior walls, and a finish that made it look much older than it actually was. The look was both perfect and ironic at once. It had been a day care center at one time, many years ago. I had only a vague memory of that from my first trip to the Valley about thirty years ago.

"How's your mom doing?" I asked Castela. "Is she adjusting to retirement?"

"She loves, LOVES her place in Scottsdale," she told me as I held the door open for her. "Sali's just a bit peeved at the heat wave we ha-had last week." We disappeared into the building, which led into a short hallway. "Says it frizzes out her hair."

The hallway led to a set of double doors. Upon opening, they led into a much larger school building. I could hear the strains of the Drifters' song "Save The Last Dance For Me" in the distance.

"Welp, that confirms it – your Aunt Phix and Uncle Neil must be here with Aeternia." I sighed. "I hope she hasn't destroyed anything yet."

"How, how come you always call her that?" Castela asked. "Everyone else calls her 'Dixie' like her dad, daddy does."

"It's her name, for one," I said as we made our way to the gym, where the dance was being held. "And for two, why do I call you 'Castela' when your sister still calls you 'Pickle'?"

She grinned at me.

"It's cause of that power they gave you over Paras," she said in a slightly teasing tone. "You know just what to say, an' when."

We reached the entrance to the gym, the music now given over to what appeared to be from a ska revival band.

"And yet, despite having a stammer that's nearly as bad as you, you and I work together like clockwork to keep this place safe and secure." I turned and innocently beeped her on her nose. She stuck out her tongue at me.

"I gotta go see what Charlie's been dealin' with since I left," she told me, skittering off towards a group of adult chaperones near the stage.
---
(P.S. - This happened just before the end of Phix and Neil's dance. Keep in mind the two hour time difference between AZ and MN...)

That's just too cute.

The students slowly filtered out to their various modes of transport, or to the portals that led them to the Library and such. Dixie had shed her bell and hoopskirts for a mid-calf length skirt that still looked rather fine with the red top. Pete finally 'surrendered' his sword after several encounters with other dancers, furniture, walls, his own legs... virtually ANYTHING that he could collide with.

He did look sharp in a uniform- Neil would remember this moment when Pete would graduate from Annapolis some five years distant, a newly-commissioned Second Lieutenant of the Marine Corps, having been nominated by ex-president Donald Trump. Force Recon forged him into a formidable warrior- three years after, he came home to claim his prize. The ancient ritual was enacted, and he prevailed... as soon as both were healed, they were wed.

Emily Grayson, weeping freely, kept repeating how handsome her boy looked in that uniform...

It should be noted that the "E65" that I mention has not even made it to production yet as a car. I did err on one thing, though: it's technically the "Model III" because Elon Musk didn't think he could get away with having the model lineup consist of S, E, and X.

Also, it was much to my chagrin when I took the job as security director that I discovered Castela was my co-worker.

Yep, at a certain point, and despite the passing of even 16 more years- to allow for greater compassion and "oh that former controversy is so last Century..."

AmriloJim wrote:

TazManiac wrote:Ever Google 'Georgette Sundahl'?
https://www.google.com/search?q=Georgette+Sundahl
(I thought it was the gal from Conan the Barbarian...)

I followed that link and as I scrolled down...

sundahl.jpg

There will likely come a time in the future when Georgette .... will need a beard.

(gently lowers a case of Badger Wax into the Pun Jar...

Sgt. Howard wrote:three years after, he came home to claim his prize. The ancient ritual was enacted, and he prevailed... as soon as both were healed, they were wed.

(Words fail me...)

What, you thought that whole scene with Arania was just her being a biatch?

jwhouk wrote:What, you thought that whole scene with Arania was just her being a biatch?

Hmmm. She is currently a human mortal female living in the twin cities... shall we introduce her to an S&M club?

No, the three "girls" are now working at a place that is nearly sub-human in nature, having to deal with torturous work, long hours, and terrifying people from all walks of life.



They work at the Wal-Mart Supercenter in Bloomington, near the Mall of America.

jwhouk wrote:No, the three "girls" are now working at a place that is nearly sub-human in nature, having to deal with torturous work, long hours, and terrifying people from all walks of life.



They work at the Wal-Mart Supercenter in Bloomington, near the Mall of America.

YOU, sir, are EVIL... I like it...

They discovered, after using public transportation for a few weeks, that they had a car they could use. One problem: it was a '96 Tercel with a five-speed.

"Hope you can drive stick!" was the Post-It note attached to the dashboard - in Phix's handwriting.

jwhouk wrote:They discovered, after using public transportation for a few weeks, that they had a car they could use. One problem: it was a '96 Tercel with a five-speed.

"Hope you can drive stick!" was the Post-It note attached to the dashboard - in Phix's handwriting.

"Grind me about a pound..."

Though the three girls had reverted to human, they all were still pretty big-boned gals. Trying to fit them all into such a small car...

jwhouk wrote:No, the three "girls" are now working at a place that is nearly sub-human in nature, having to deal with torturous work, long hours, and terrifying people from all walks of life.



They work at the Wal-Mart Supercenter in Bloomington, near the Mall of America.

In the above, is "terrifying" an adjective or a verb?

Warrl wrote:

jwhouk wrote:No, the three "girls" are now working at a place that is nearly sub-human in nature, having to deal with torturous work, long hours, and terrifying people from all walks of life.



They work at the Wal-Mart Supercenter in Bloomington, near the Mall of America.

In the above, is "terrifying" an adjective or a verb?

Yes.

We could have LOADS of fun with that.

jwhouk wrote:... terrifying people from all walks of life.

A most succinct and accurate definition of "Walmartian."

jwhouk wrote:Though the three girls had reverted to human, they all were still pretty big-boned gals. Trying to fit them all into such a small car...

... a little patience, some study of the total topography, four tubs of Crisco and a large hammer... what's the problem?

Yeah, the BFH can be quite effective.