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allthingshb-blog · 6 years

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Another Interview!

Readers, I have been lucky enough to get another interview with an Archie Writer. His name is Bill Vallely, who is currently self publishing. His book, Tips to Prevent Dry Eye...That Work! Is coming out this January. It’ll be done in graphic novel form, with some jokes to lighten up the subject matter, and looks super interesting, so be sure to check it out even if you don’t have dry eye!

Anyway, without further ado, here it is!

Susan Michaels: Tell me more [about how the relaunch of Harvey Comics was your idea].

BV: Back in the late 80s, my writing partner, Mark McClellan, had a roommate who was connected to Jeffrey Montgomery. Jeff was looking to start a comic book company. I suggested that Harvey Comics had characters everyone already knew (Casper, Richie Rich, etc) that were stuck in legal limo. Why roll the dice to create something new when properties that were well known were just sitting there, gathering dust? Montgomery’s business model was to focus on marketing Casper t-shirts, mugs, key chains, etc. Later he decided that the real money was in feature films and Direct to Video films. BTW, I'm getting ready to release my first self published graphic novel - "Tips To Fight Dry Eye ... That WORK!"

SM: Wow, I really like the cover for that!Here are some questions I have: (If there are too many or you can't answer, just let me know)What was your favorite/least favorite franchise to write for in the HB Archie? What was your favorite/least favorite character? What was it like writing for Archie, as a whole?SusanISo I learned that one of the characters, Scrappy, who was disliked by the fandom, had a new version of the character in hopes of “reviving” him to the fandom, but in the end was unceremoniously dropped after slowly having more infrequent appearances. Is that true? What's the story behind that?

BV: No question, my favorite character to write for was Mr. Spacely in “The Jetson”. He had an energy and anger that made him a lot of fun to write for. What I loved most was working with the most underrated man in comics, Sid Jacobson. Sid co-created Richie Rich, Little Dot - most of Harvey’s characters. (Casper started as an animated cartoon. That Casper was very different from the one we know now.) I’ve never been very fond of Casper. He always struck me as being kinda mop.

SM: Casper's older then I thought...do you know anything about the aforementioned Scooby question?

BV: Well, Scrappy did wind up being the bad guy in the Scooby Doo feature film.He was an attempt to bring life to an old franchise that had mixed results. There are those who loved Scrappy - and then there people like me.

SM: Gotcha. I was talking about his Archie incarnation-I heard that the "animosity was too great" and things went south from there?

BV: This was a very weird period for me. I had been hired to be Humor Editor for a comic book version of Penthouse Magazine - it was called "Penthouse Comix". I was editing Adult Comics during the day and writing Yogi Bear at night. I was largely out of the loop then.

SM: Oh, got it. That must have been quite intense. While we're still on the subject of Scooby though, do you remember a villain you created called "The Gray One"?

BV: That was mine.Yup.I wrote that story mostly to create a secret agent called "R.U." I did that strictly so I could write the line, "Scooby Doo, where's R.U.?"

SM: I noticed in the story the Gray One's perception of the gang was a little...skewed, and since sometimes other writers of the comic had the gang acting rather differently, I was wondering if that was commentary on that.

BV: I wanted to play with the formate a bit.Try pushing the characters in directions they hadn't gone before.Telling a story from the criminals point of view, then finding out that he was fooled all along, struck me as being fun.

SM: It was.

BV: What I wanted to do was show that all the villains the Mystery Machine fought in the past had ganged up to take down our heroes, but sadly that was not to be.Aw, you only said that because it's true.

SM: Yep! So past villains ganging up on the Scooby gang? What happened to that idea? I mean it doesn't seem to have seen the light of day, but what happened there?

BV: The thinking at the time is that kid comics couldn't handle extended story-lines. Each comic had to be a complete story, never refereed to again. What can I say? They had a point.A six year old buying a comic is a very different animal than a 45 year old comic book collector.I was happy that Sid allowed me to get away with as much as he did.

SM: It's odd, because some of the stories (I don't think they were yours) took a very adult direction...did having the infamous comics code in place ever make anything else difficult?

BV: The Comics Code had largely died in the 90s. Marvel had stopped submitting to the CC.Besides, if anything, I was more of a censor than anyone else.I always remembered that I was talking to 6 year olds, and tried to keep the comics appropriate for that group. After all, they were sold on racks that said "Wholesome Family Entertainment."The average comic sold 30,000 books. With a 3 to 1 pass along (that's other kids who read their friends comics) that's close to 100,000 young minds reading the book.Before turning in a script, I would imagine a football stadium filled with children. Is there anything in my story that I wouldn't say to those kids on a PA system.I have no problem with adult comics. Hell, I helped made them. But they have to be clearly labeled. I've never been a fan of sneaking things past the editor.

SM: This is kind of a silly question, but did you see anyone who worked at HB studios? (I know they probably just licensed it, but I was wondering just in case) Also, for that "Dry Eye Tips Book" did you do that illustration? I really like it! So you mentioned that you wanted to push characters in new directions, how was that? (I did notice a more sensible Scrappy and a less bland Fred, but I want to hear what you had to say-and I’d like to apologize that these are Scooby-centric-old comics are difficult to come by and Scooby were the ones I happened upon more of) Did any other comic series push characters in new directions? Which Scooby villains did you want to bring back?

BV: Back in the day, I mostly wrote in my living room in Los Angeles. I rarely showed up to the office.Yes, I drew all the illustrations in "Tips To Fight Dry Eye ... That WORK!" And if you could mention that the book is coming out on January 1, 2019. The next Graphic Novel I want to do is on President Warren G. Harding. I know it sounds dull, but Warren was the original G. O. Party Animal. The book would be sex and hootch and Red Hot Jazz.You're having trouble finding these books? Not half as much trouble as I am.About pushing the characters in new directions, I wanted to do it in a way that stayed true to the characters. One story that I wanted to do, but was shot down, was to have Judy Jetson fall in love with some romantic mope from another dimension who said that one second would her would be worth the end of all worlds. She runs away to smuggle herself to his dimension, while being chased by the cops. She discovers that the cute guy lives in an anti-matter dimension. If they touched, both dimensions would be destroyed. Judy thought the guy was spouting the nonsense boys tell girls - she didn't know he was serious.I was told that was a little too dark.I did a Magilla Gorilla / Yogi Bear story, strictly to show the differences between the two characters. (Yogi is a selfish, charming, lout while MG means well but causes trouble anyway.)I wanted to watch the entire run of the first incantation of SDWAY, and have them all in a room, plotting revenge. Cooler heads prevailed.All the villains, that is.

SM: I’d be happy to mention your book! (I don’t have dry eye, but I do love that cover XD) I don’t have many more questions.So you wanted to go strictly off of SDWAY series, then, but as a result of the higher ups the comic series wasn't continuous with any of the cartoons? Also, if they didn't want you to watch the shows, how did they have writers familiarize themselves with the material? Or were you given creative freedom there? Also, what would’ve happened at the end of that Jetsons idea you had?

BV: I wasn’t confrontational with anyone - I didn’t have to be. H/B was lucky to be edited by the most under-rated editor in Comic Book history; Sid Jacobson. Back in the 1950s, Sid improved the art at Harvey Comics, and the rest of the industry followed suit. Sid was always willing to listen to any idea, then improve on it. It was a happy time - I’d work with Sid again in a heartbeat.OCT 20TH,

SM: Sorry for implying that there was anything confrontational going on behind the scenes. That wasn’t my intention when I asked. So what I was intending to ask when I was curious about the execs and continuity was if, timeline-wise, that meant it was unconnected from the cartoons? (If it is, no worries-I’m mostly just curious-if a bit pleased that either way, it seems that the infamous Scrappy-Doo Era and said character’s cartoon personality were not a thing here) This one is about your book-so is it all going to be in the form of comic, a semi-story with the dry eye symbolized by the little devil? So I asked what your favorite/least favorite character was. What was your favorite story that you wrote? What happened to Richie Rich that put it in legal limbo? (All I know was it used to be Harvey comics, then it became a cartoon for a few years) Thank you for your time and patience :)

BV: Jeff Montgomery and company viewed the characters as products to obtain movie contracts and sell T-Shirts. He viewed the comic book production division as a necessary evil - until he decided we weren't necessary any more. What he didn't understand was that, while the comics didn't make as much as a single Richie Rich Direct to Video Movie, they were the engine that kept the characters alive. Without the funny books, people forgot about Richie and company.

SM: Yikes.

BV: On the day we were fired, I walked into Jeff's office (while he was in the middle of a meeting with someone from Paramount) and stole his equipment. Staplers, pens. That kind of stuff.

SM: Then what happened?

BV: He pretended I wasn't there and nothing was happening. I loudly stated "I'm stealing this ... and this ... this is mine now". I kept that stuff, too.1

SM: Wow, that's-wow! XD

BV: It's the reason I'm self publishing these days. I guess I could get work if I begged.But the best I could hope for would be to insulted, paid a $40 page rate, and maybe make the company rich.Self publishing is no more risky, I have a lot more freedom, and the potential rewards are high.

SM: I did not know that! That's a really funny story, by the way. Also, do you have any answers to the other questions I wrote about above?

BV: Shoot them past me again.

SM: So what I was intending to ask when I was curious about the execs and continuity was if, timeline-wise, that meant it was unconnected from the cartoons? (If it is, no worries-I’m mostly just curious-if a bit pleased that either way, it seems that the infamous Scrappy-Doo Era and said character’s cartoon personality were not a thing here) This one is about your book-so is it all going to be in the form of comic, a semi-story with the dry eye symbolized by the little devil? So I asked what your favorite/least favorite character was. What was your favorite story that you wrote?

BV: 1. No, they had no relation to the cartoons at all. 2. My book is a graphic novel - told entirely in comic book form. I'm doing that because Dry Eye is an unpleasant subject to discuss. The comic book format will make the story clearer and more fun to read. I have a fondness for "Escape From Nyak, Nyak, Nyak." I had to move to New York to work for a company I wanted nothing to do with. That story was my goodbye to California and Harvey.

#bill vallely #archie comics #harvey comics #dry eye #comic #comics #comic books #jetsons #the jetsons #scooby doo #scooby #scooby gang

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persuadedproject-blog · 7 years

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Chapter 11

Anne was interrupted from her light morning reading of The Yellow Wallpaper by a gentle tapping on the hotel door. Swinging the door open, she found Hazel, hair plopped on top of her head in a top knot, feet bare.

“I thought you might be up!” she stage whispered. “Do you want to go walk on the beach?” Anne decided that for a bit of friendship and the ocean, her reading could wait. Hazel curled up on the bed while Anne changed out of her pajamas.

“What are you doing up anyways,” she called in the direction of the bathroom. Anne’s head popped around the corner.

“Just geeky research stuff.” Hazel flopped back on the bed.

“I won’t do another second of it once I get out of college,” she groaned. “If I have to learn one more way to cite a source I’ll scream Right there in class, I’ll just stand on my desk and scream. They’ve already made me learn MLA, APA, And Turabian - there can’t be many more, can there? Oh, Anne. No! You can’t wear a cardigan.” Anne tugged at the offending sweater.

“Why not?” she asked, tilting her head in the mirror.

“First of all, it’s summer. The season of pumpkin spice lattes is a long ways away. Secondly, we’re at the beach. Thirdly, that’s a perfectly nice shirt you have under it, and Lauren Conrad says not to layer just for the sake of layering. Fourthly -”

“Cease and desist!” Anne was cracking up. “Look, I’m putting the cardigan away. Does that make you happy?”

Once they were padding through the hotel hallway, Anne asked quietly,

“What got you up this early? You normally need more rest than this.” This was a tactful way of saying that they never usually had a Hazel sighting until ten or eleven.

“I’ve just been thinking,” her usually carefree face drew into a small frown. Anne nodded wisely. Thinking could be a troublesome thing. “About Chuck and me,” Hazel clarified. “I think being around Ben and seeing him be so miserable after losing Faith, it made me wonder what would happen if Chuck - went away.” They were outside now, so they could talk at normal volumes (for Anne, still quiet, for Hazel sincere and a little loud). “If anything happened, Anne, I’d just die. Whatever Chuck and I have, it’s good, and I would be an idiot to let it go.” Anne smiled, glad to see that Hazel’s own ponderings had brought her around to this conclusion. Both Hazel and Louise stood a chance to grow into their parents; good, kind people with their heads screwed on straight. Once they were on the sand, the topic pivoted.

“I think the beach is good for everyone!” Hazel declared. “The sunshine, fresh air - even the salt water is good. If you’re sick, it helps you get well, and if you’re healthy, it only makes you better! I really think Doc Shirley should retire to the beach, sooner rather than later. His arthritis is only getting worse. He and Miz Shirley have spent their lives working and doing good, but it’s sort of depressing to think of them living out their last days in tiny Uppercross, isn’t it? We should suggest that they retire here. I just doubt we could convince him to stop work, but we really shouldn’t glorify the ‘work til you drop’ philosophy, should we? Chuck could do his job just as well, I bet. And he shouldn’t run himself ragged, that would just break Miz Shirley’s heart.” Anne just smiled and nodded, with an occasional,

“I think so,” or “Definitely.” It was clear Hazel needed to get her thoughts out in the open, and since it seemed to the advantage of everyone in question, Anne tried to be as encouraging as she could.

“I wish Mrs. Russell were around Uppercross. I’ve always heard she had great sway over everyone, and she’s able to convince anyone of anything! Of course, I’m a little afraid of her, because she’s so smart and so influential, but I respect her a lot. I wish we had a neighbor like her. She could convince Doc to retire.” Anne thought it was funny how the things that advance our plans suddenly become the best option for other people - and how anyone who can help bring the plan to reality became valuable. She only had time to say,

“She has been a wonderful neighbor,” before Hazel spotted Wentworth and Louise coming toward them. They had also decided to go for a walk before breakfast, but as soon as the four were all walking together, Louise remembered that she needed to buy something in Beaufort. They were all invited to go along, and they all did.

When they came up to the narrow wooden steps that ran up and over the dunes, a guy who had been planning to walk down at the same time politely stood aside, to let them come up. As they passed him, Anne’s face caught his eye and he looked at her with a sincere admiration she could not brush off. Anne was looking attractive; time outside had restored a bloom to her face, and her eyes had sprung back to life, as if reflecting the movement and energy of the water. It was clear that this stranger took notice, but not in an ogling way. Wentworth looked back at her immediately in a way that showed the stranger’s admiration had not gone unobserved. He gave her a quick glance, that seemed to say even he could see some of the old Anne Elliot again. Louise led the still somewhat sleepy band of people into town, and picked up her necessities at a gas station. Hazel and Anne had to wait outside, because of the faded ‘No shirt, no shoes, no service’ sign that was peeling on the door. After that, they meandered back to the hotel for a continental breakfast. Anne slipped upstairs to slip on some shoes, and nearly bumped into the stranger from the steps on her way off the elevator. She had wondered if they were staying in the same hotel. Once again, he seemed happy to see her, and to think of her - well, Anne could see that he thought she was beautiful. He apologized quickly, and when she tried to blame it on her absent-mindedness he would not allow any of the fault to be hers. He was about Anne’s age, maybe a little older. Although he was not strikingly handsome (certainly not a movie star in the making), he wasn’t an eyesore either. He carried himself well. When the elevator doors shut, and Anne was alone with the sleepy jazz music, she wished she had gotten his name for future stalking (when admirers are few and far between, you have to make the most of them).

Breakfast was the usual free hotel fare: burnt coffee and watery orange juice, stale bagels, cereal that had lost its crunch, thin yogurt, and waxy fruit for the health conscious. The company was what made breakfast nice, and from her past five years in and out of conference centers, Anne knew how to make the buffet offerings into a decent breakfast. Toasted bagels don’t taste nearly as old, especially when slathered with whatever butter substitute they are serving. Drink as much of the orange juice as you can stand, and eat a banana - at least the fake skin comes off of that. Since they were in the breakfast nook alone, they could spread out however they liked. The whole room was brought to the window when the owner of the beautiful red convertible parked by the window loaded his suitcase, and started up the engine.

“That’s a classic car, isn’t it?” and the purr of the engine was enough to bring Charles bounding over to the window, and Wentworth’s seemingly off-handed,

“Oh! That’s the exact same guy we passed this morning,” was enough to bring everyone else. He said it with a quick look at Anne, so she made sure to take her time walking over. The Musgrove girls agreed that it had to be him, and they all watched until he disappeared around the corner. They all returned to their seats and stale breakfasts. Soon enough a disinterested college student in an oversized uniform wandered over to the buffet to check on the stockpiles of food. As soon as he spotted him, Wentworth asked,

“Do you know who the man who just checked out was?”

“Since it’s only me on duty on this floor, yeah.”

“Just you? That’s rough.”

“I guess.”

“But who was he?”

“Um, a Sam Beckett? Wait, that wasn’t a breach of client confidentiality, was it?”

“Since you are neither a doctor nor lawyer, I don’t think so. Thanks!” Wentworth clapped him reassuringly on the shoulder, and the kid looked longingly at his desk.

“Sam Beckett?” Mary, usually the most clueless person in the room (or maybe the state), for some unfortunate reason remembered this name. “I thought I recognized his face! He was friends with our sister Liz. Anne, Charles, don’t you think it was him? He almost was going to take over the firm - did he say anything about Elliot Political Consulting?”

“No, but I think he’s planning to get a good job soon enough. Like, big money. He was talking about moving into a new house and getting new business cards made. His old card said something about waffles, I think?”

“That has to be him!” Mary said triumphantly. “How bizarre is it that we see him after all these years! I wish I had looked at him more closely, I was just looking at the car. How amazing!” The employee retreated to the safe haven of his desk as soon as Mary’s interrogation had finished.

“The chances of meeting an old friend in a town like this are small enough, it has to be predestined that you didn’t actually meet him.” Wentworth said amusedly. When she could finally wrangle Mary’s attention, Anne quietly tried to convince her that running into this particular Mr. Beckett would not be a good thing.

“Our dad hasn’t spoken to him since everything happened,” she informed her. “Not to mention Liz would be furious if we were friendly to him.”

“Well now she’s found her zen or whatever, surely she’s over it be now. It’s not like a breakup years ago is worth losing the connection. You’ll have to mention seeing him when you hear from the Hyannis crowd.” Anne did not respond - convincing Mary she was wrong at this point would be about like having a debate with a sand dune. While Mary was in the habit of sharing any and all information, Anne censored information to avoid irritation, conflict, and possible damage to the Hyannis Elliot’s ego. Mary never communicated with them herself, so it was up to Anne to keep up a sporadic and unsatisfactory talks with Liz.

Just as they were finishing up breakfast, the Harvilles and Ben Wick walked through the lazily sliding doors. They had gotten a babysitter, and were going to show the Uppercross contingent the sights. Thanks to a trolley-style bus, they could leave their cars behind and see the town mostly by foot. The plan was to see all the highlights, have a late lunch, and then get back to Uppercross. Wentworth had a meeting in D.C. the next morning, and Mary wanted to make sure Mrs. Musgrove was not feeding the boys all junk processed food. Once they started walking, Anne found Ben gravitating towards her. Much to her delight, their conversation the night before had not driven him away. She got to see the town with Ben at her side, comparing notes on Byron (interesting poetry, rather awful human). They walked by the house where Blackbeard the pirate had supposedly hung his wife and killed her lover on the stairs.

“They say the blood stain still seeps through the stairs, no matter how much they clean it, or what carpet they put over it,” Ben said, seeming to relish the macabre interest of it all. Most of the highlights of Beaufort were admittedly pirate related - the Maritime Museum (in an old ship builder’s shed) was centered around artifacts dredged up from his old ship, sunk just off the coast. In the church graveyard, surrounded by rough old stones and Spanish Moss, Ben provided more ghost stories. Most of the other sights involved food: legendary fudge, ice cream, and craft beer at The Queen Anne’s Revenge - local bar and sandwich shoppe.

When they were walking along the main street boardwalk, she found Ben replaced by Will.

“Anne,” he said quietly, “I can’t tell you how much good you’ve done Wick, getting him to talk that much. It can’t be good for him to be shut away here, I know, but what can we do? We have to stick together.”

“Time will give some distance to everything that will help,” Anne encouraged him. “He is still a young mourner. Give him more time, he’ll come around to himself if you give him the chance to. I understand you lost Faith last winter.”

“Last November,” Will nodded painfully. “And I didn’t have the heart to tell him. Plus he was...unavailable at the time, due to work. Wentworth was the only one who could get to him. He stayed with Ben for the week, flew home with him, and supported all of us through the funeral. I don’t know what his superiors thought, but we were all so busy with arranging - everything. It feels like Ben is the last part of Faith left. We loved him for his own sake of course, but you can imagine how important he is to us now.” He was clearly overwhelmed by the subject, and after abruptly clearing his throat he changed the subject. Anne went along the rabbit trail with him, and helped him by pointing out a boat inscribed with the name Thanks a Yacht.

After lunch they were all supposed to go their separate ways, but Will mentioned that there was one more sight to be seen, if they could find the time: Fort Macon. Mary and Charles were not sure if they had the time, but after hearing about the views, Louise became determined. And now once she was set on something, she was a force to be reckoned with.

“It won’t take long,” she argued. “We’ll just walk through the fort, take another quick walk on the beach, then we can go. We checked out this morning, so we can just leave straight from the fort.” The group agreed, and in half an hour they were all at the old Civil War fort. The fort was mostly brick and cement, with iron intertwined and an occasional well-groomed patch of grass. All of the old passages were open to the public. The hallways all connected in an off-kilter pentagon, kitchens led to mess halls, to bedrooms that would have been packed with bunks, to long stables. The Uppercross tourists and their hosts spread out into pairs, some taking in everything in at a glance, others wandering slowly and reading the plaques. Anne found herself bringing up the rear with Ben. Considering the location, where you could see the ocean and flyers for the Marlin Festival were everywhere, The Old Man and the Sea simply had to be discussed. Anne was glad to have his company, and gave him her full attention. She told him about dusting off work on her thesis, and his eyes lit up. He offered to review it, once she was finished.

“Not that I could teach you anything, obviously,” he added quickly. “But if you want another set of eyes on it.”

After they had climbed fifty shallow steps to the lookout, they soaked in the sun and wind for as long as practical time constraints would allow, when they filed back down. Everyone else was happy to walk quietly, except for Louise. Spotting Wentworth solidly on the ground, she said,

“Look out, Captain!” and jumped the rest of the way down. Thinking quickly, Wentworth caught her outstretched arms and swung her safely to the fort’s brick floor. They were in the habit of exchanging playful, affectionate contact, so this did not surprise anyone in the group. Anne wondered if he could feel the eye roll she wanted to release. Louise thought this little thrill was fun, and to show her admiration for the catcher, ran back up the stairs, stopping higher than before.

“That’s too high, Louise,” he said offhandedly. “You can’t even jump that far, much less have me catch you. Louise just gave him a cocky grin and said,

“I’m determined, so I will!” and launched herself off the steps. A second too late, he started after her, arms outstretched again. Her jump had been thrown off by catching her foot on the step. With a thud that reverberated off the walls of the fort, her head hit the bottom step. Her body went limp, her eyes closed as her head lolled to the side. For a split second, they all stood still and silent, trying to process the horrible sight. Then all was movement and noise. Wentworth, who was closest, gathered her up, trying to wake her up, searching her suddenly pale face for signs of life.

“She is dead! She is dead!” Mary wailed. Hazel panicked, and would have tripped herself on the steps if Anne and Ben had not caught her between them, and lowered her to sit.

“Just stay put,” Anne instructed with a gentle squeeze of her shoulder.

“Can no one help me?” Wentworth burst forth desperately. Ben and Anne rushed down the steps, and Charles disentangled himself from his panicking wife. Fearful of too many cooks in the kitchen, Anne stood on the periphery, calling out prompts to help take care of Louise.

“Is she breathing?” Anne asked.

“Yes, very shallowly.”

“Just - keep her head very still.” Anne whipped out her phone and with trembling hands dialed 911. While it rang, Anne caught Ben’s eye.

“See if they have a medic on call at the visitor’s center. Or ask around for a nurse, anyone with medical training.” He went sprinting across the grounds and over the drawbridge. Seconds were flying by. Of the three rational forces there, it was hard to tell who was the most distressed: Anne, Wentworth, or Charles, who was really a loving brother, hanging over his sister’s face, rogue tears running down his ruddy face. Anne was trying to quiet Mary, comfort Hazel, and rack her brain for anything they could do.

“Anne, what next? What next?” Charles asked brokenly. Wentworth, in a daze, also looked to her.

“Check gently for other wounds than that one on her forehead, and try to get a read on her pulse. We can’t move her, but try to elevate her head just a little.”

By the time the ambulance showed up, a small group of concerned onlookers had gathered. With dread they retraced their steps of just an hour ago, Louise on a stretcher, Anne and Wentworth on either side. Charles rode with her in the ambulance and the rest of them followed in the entourage. They were all resigned to the waiting room to sit and hope for the best. After the sun and warmth all day, the blasting AC felt frigid. It was difficult to keep track of time - ER waiting rooms have their own logic and time, florescent lights flickering, and nurses in all matching scrubs passing - how could they stand short sleeves? The TV looped local news over and over again. During one of the commercial breaks, Wentworth came over and sat beside Anne.

“Someone needs to call her parents,” he said in a hushed voice that excluded all of the other waiters from their conversation.

“We shouldn’t call anyone until we’ve seen the doctor, and know more about what is going on - what good could calling them with no conclusions and a passed out daughter do?”

“We can’t keep it from them.”

“Just not now. If we haven’t talked to anyone in another half hour, one of us can call Mr. Musgrove. He’ll know the best way to break it to her mom.” Wentworth nodded, and Charles poked his head out of the swinging door, waving to them.

“Anne! Wentworth!” They walked over, leaving the rest with a reassuring thumbs-up from Charles. “She came back to, but hasn’t talked much since. The doctor seems to be hopeful.”

“She has a small fracture in her skull,” the doctor said, pointing to a small line on the X-ray. “Fortunately, her brain is mostly untouched. There is a small concussion, but no bleeding.” Wentworth leaned against the door frame, as if all the energy he had been using to keep himself together had just left him. “We will need to monitor her carefully for several days, and keep her for a week, just to make sure she doesn’t show any signs that will make me rethink the diagnosis.”

“And after that?” Anne asked.

“She’ll be recovering for six to twelve months. The worst of it will be in the first weeks, after that she’ll just have to be careful.”

The anxious group waiting in the emergency room stood up when Anne reappeared, then flopped back on the chairs in relief. All of their worst fears - permanent damage, hours to live, paralysis, all of them were quelled. The Harvilles had rounded up food from a nearby McDonald’s, and the whole group inhaled it in the parking lot, heat radiating from the pavement. Emergencies have a tendency to steal your appetite, then eventually make you ravenous. The pressure had been released, and they could start working out the logistics. Louise obviously had to stay put. Charles refused to leave Beaufort - they had barely been able to drag him away from the hospital bed for food. Wentworth positively had to go back to Washington for the mandatory meeting. Hazel was, in her own words, virtually useless. She couldn’t stand still in the hospital room, and the sight of her still sister made her nervous. Anne accidentally walked into the pow-wow happening behind Charles’ car.

“So I will take Hazel home,” Wentworth was saying, “And Mary - I assume she’s wanting to get back to CJ and Walter now. If anyone’s going to stay and help you look after Louise, it should be Anne. No one could take care of someone like her. She’s capable, and has a good mind for it.” Anne stumbled to a halt at the trunk, trying to process his words and the emotions that came with them. Then she rounded the corner, and Wentworth immediately turned and said,

“You would stay, I know. Will you stay and help Charles take care of her?” His tone was urgent but gentle, in a way that can only be understood with years of relationship groundwork. She felt blood rush to her face, and he seemed to remember the situation and take a step back.

“Of course, I am happy to be here as long as I need to be,” she said, noticing the relief and a flicker of admiration in his eyes. It all seemed to be arranged. Suitcases were shuffled to the correct car, hotel reservations made. Wentworth’s car made a coughing, sputtery sound when he tried to start it, and no degree of coaxing or jumper cables would get the engine to start. Anne offered her car, and after another game of musical chairs with the luggage, everything seemed finished until Mary got wind of the plan. All of the created peace was thrown to the wind.

“Why on earth would Anne stay?” she demanded, tears pooling in her already red eyes. “Anne is nothing to Louise, and I am her sister. It’s not fair! I can be just as useful as her, probably more because of all my medical research.” Anne could not be sure, but she thought she heard a snort from Ben’s direction. Maybe it was just a cough. Mary carried on her torrent of words for as long as Charles could stand, then her husband caved. Anne had never yielded more reluctantly to the insistent bad plans of her sister, but there was nothing to be done. Everyone was saying their goodbyes while Wentworth drove the car off to fill it with gas. Anne stuck her hand out to Ben,

“Goodbye for now.”

“Goodbye for now,” he repeated. “You should know that I will find you on Facebook. I expect lots of vague posts about wrestling with that thesis.”

“You can count on it.”

Hazel wanted to be in the back seat, to try and sleep, which left Anne hopping in the passenger side with a bewildered and obviously dismayed Wentworth.

“I - thought Mary was going back,” he spluttered, trying to politely filter his thoughts and explain his almost horrified expression.

“Mary wanted to stay,” Anne explained simply.

“And what Mary wants, Mary gets,” he added in frustration. This cool reception was humiliating to Anne. Apparently she was only valuable when useful to Louise. Anne tried to bring her mind, whirling at a thousand thoughts per minute, in check. She needed to be fair. Everyone was under a great deal of pressure. Then again, his job was being under pressure all the time. Anne could not help but wonder if he was rethinking the opinion that a decided will was some great universal good. Like all other things, ti could turn into a monster if it was not balanced out. It could not escape him that a flexible will is sometimes more conducive to happiness than an iron one.

They both set themselves looking straight ahead, and this was the way they left Beaufort, with all of their emotions turned inside, eyes focused on the road. Anne was not sure how four hours on the road would go, but it was surprisingly natural. Both of them were focused on taking care of Hazel, whose eyes had not returned from the hundred yard stare since Louise’s head made contact with the ground. Whenever Wentworth talked, it was with the goal of making her feel better. After recovering from the jolt of Anne joining them in the car, his voice was even, quiet. Everything was set in order to keep Hazel from working herself back up. Only once she had been snoring quietly for a long time did Anne venture to quietly say,

“I wish we had never gone to that fort -”

“Please don’t talk about it!” Hazel startled, and he lowered his voice again. “If only I had not given in to her that one split second. If I had done what was right - but she looked at me, so eager, this sweet look in her eyes -” his hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“We all agreed to go,” Anne reminded him. “And I’m not sure you could dissuade Louise from doing anything right now, whether it’s putting her hair in braids, or - well, you know.” Soft classical music filled in the silence that hung in the car. He revved the engine, and the car pulled away from the ocean and towards Uppercross, hugging the curves of the winding back roads and pulling California stops at all the stop signs until they pulled into the Great House driveway.

When they crawled up the driveway, Hazel was still fast asleep, her hoodie pulled over her face.

“I have been thinking about what would be best for us to do. She shouldn’t hear the long term risks, at least not tonight, but I don’t want her to wake up alone and get confused. Will you wait with her, while i go in and talk to the musgroves? Does that sound like an okay plan?”

“Affirmative,” she said, a half smile tugging at her mouth. He started to get out of the car, looked back at her like he wanted to say something, then changing his mind quietly shut the door. The question made her happy, as a sign of friendship- but even better, a respect for her thoughts. It became a proof she hung onto that the old respect was still there, even if the love was not. Once the parents were brought up to speed and pulled back together, Hazel was brought in and put to bed. With everything settled, Wentworth drove to D.C. in one of the musgrove’s cars, which he would return to them in Beaufort as soon as the morning meetings were over.

Chapter 12 : http://bit.ly/2uEfqy5

#persuadedproject #persuasion #janeausten

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verkligen · 7 years

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on bullet journaling

This is a post on my bullet journal experience, largely because I love reading about other people’s strategies. For me the important part is pretty enough to be fun, but not so pretty that I get writer’s block.

My first time around it didn’t click because I just went off the website, and it was just too plain. The I read the following Buzzfeed posts and tried a better notebook and you better believe I became a convert.

Wtf is a bullet journal? Borderline genius layouts Bullet journal for mental health

Obviously I don’t use all of these but they were great to get me started. So this is how I do it. Well, most of it. I could’ve rambled even longer, believe it or not.

Basics. It kind of hurt to buy a journal as expensive as the Leuchtturm, but it’s definitely worth it for the dot grid and double bookmarks. There’s also a pocket in the back for my stickers and numbered pages! I love it.

I used a lined notebook with no index (I drew my own) and only one bookmark last year, and I definitely prefer this one. I also discovered that I need an A5 size to be able to think properly, weird as it sounds.

You can use any pen, obviously, and I’ve used a fair few but right now I’m loving the Frixion (though most of these images feature reguIar Stabilo 88 pens, I had been given those for colouring, and repurposed them for this) clicker pens right now, and I doubt I’ll ever forget my notebook somewhere warm enough for the text to disappear, which is the one downside with them. (Though apparently you can put them in the freezer to get the text back to visible? I kind of want to try this now.) And yes, coloured pencils aren’t necessary at all though I like them for fun details.

Fold out index. I also find that having a fold-out index like this really good! I don’t place a red sticker every week, just on the monthly spreads, but yes, having the pages colour coded in a way that’s visible when the book is closed too really helps.

Last thing: This might not be for everyone, but I really liked going through the book and noting the dates and such that would go on each spread in advance. That means that I get the monthly/weekly spreads in the beginning of the book, then habits, then writing, and then the rest. Last year I just mixed it every which way and was super dependent on the index, which became chaotic in my brain.

Year at a glance. I mostly use year at a glance to track my periods tbh, but it looked so empty that I added in a few random things, such as birthdays, bank holidays, daylight savings and the full moon and such. Definitely not necessary. Very good for period tracking though. I can never remember to use the app on my phone anyway.

Monthly spread. I tend to switch layouts up when I get bored of them. The only thing that’s constant with my monthly spreads is grouping the dates under week number, and having a to-do list at the end. These are my last two versions. The former of these two I used for probably… six months or so? A long while anyway. The other one is brand new.

Weekly spread. I change the layout up here when I get bored too. This is the two latest versions. I’ve had trouble eating well lately (mental health issues) so I’ve added a food section to my weekly spread. In it I just list five or so dinners to choose from. Often I only make 2-3 of them at any given week because yeah. I eat the same things a lot when I don’t feel well. I need to work on that.

I’ve simplified the symbols a bit too. The standard is as follows:

X = task complete > = migrated (if you don’t do something one day, put this by it, and write it again on next day) < = scheduled (after you put this on the monthly thing, I assume?) ○ = events (things that has a specific date and time, rather than any day) – = notes

Mine are just this:

♥ = task complete X = did not complete today ● = note (mostly diary type stuff, what I ate, where I went, how I feel, etc)

And that’s it. I think I need to start migrating things, though, because I need to get more shit done than I do right now.

(And yes, I mix Swedish and English pretty frequently in my bullet journal. I used to try to be consistent but these days I just let the language my hands feel like writing at the time come out. Thinking is not the point of bullet journaling. #bilingualproblems)

End of month. At the end of each month I have two empty pages. Sometimes I write if there’s a day I need to dear diary it up (if I do I write the page number on that specific day on the weekly spread), but most of the time I do a monthly recap at the end. I’m just not a journal type person these days. Which is funny, given that I have a moving box filled with journals from when I was younger. A whole. Freaking. Box.

(It’s censored with post-its here, since these two pages tend to be really private stuff, especially right now when I have mental health bs going on.)

Habit tracker. These look a little different from month to month, but here are two of them. They take a bit more explaining, but I’ve decided how many times a week I want to do a specific thing. I get an ● every day I do it. If the specific habit isn’t an everyday thing I get an ○ if I don’t do it, unless there aren’t enough days in the week for me to still have a chance to complete it, in which case I get an X, aka fail. My goal is to make progress, so drink more water/drink less Coke/exercise more/etc than what’s currently on this page, so it’s very much a dynamic, work in progress type thing. If I get a yay on something a couple of months in a row I move on to a ‘harder’ level, because that’s kind of what habits are for.

I’ve also started noting exercise (note, this is all so called ‘vardagsmotion’, I don’t exercise as such, but I write down walks and when I bike into town and such) and books I’ve read that month at the bottom of the page, for fun.

Writing. This is how I keep myself accountable for writing. When I’m first drafting I get a sticker per 500 words (the so called sticker method) but right now I’m doing final(ish) edits on a novel, so I count by chapters.

And yes, this is where the coloured pencils come in.

Various. At the end I keep random stuff like this, that doesn’t fit anywhere else. So book bingo (needs updating like whoa), paying off my computer (😩 ), dinner suggestions, etc. There’ll be more with time, I’m sure, but right now this is where I’m at.

In summary. This is how I use it. Your mileage may vary, but that’s the fun thing about the bullet journal. I’m sure I won’t use it the same way three months from now, even, but writing this post was FUN.

#bullet journal #bullet journal strategies #organisation

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poppun-chan · 7 years

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The Year of Keroro Challenge Update 3 (Yes Sir)

This took quite a bit longer than I hoped, this post is a really big one, especially episodes 15 & 17. Actually, today I’ve caught up to watching, once I catch up in writing as well I’ll update weekly, but for now I still have a few posts worth (I’m especially looking forward to the next one).

But for now enjoy a translation of all the writing on the whiteboard from the pool episode:

There’s no shot of everything on the board but here is the meeting related part (Note “enjoy” is written a bit oddly, normally it would be in katakana since they used the English and the “ji” would be from “shi”, not “chi”). However, the best part is the little scribbles on the whiteboard:

It works because Japanese has vertical writing, but one of these is supposed to be both names under the same umbrella (You can see it done full scale with actual people at the end of Only Yesterday). In Japan sharing an umbrella with somebody is considered very romantic, so this is a bit like writing two names in a heart, either way it’s easy to guess who drew it. As for the “Finding Nemo” bit, it basically translates as “Even for searching....” which doesn’t really make any sense, but given the drawing and the fact that the movie came out less than a year before this episode aired, chances are they fiddled around with the writing to make a nod to the movie without name-dropping it (You can find more about that and quite a few other things under the break). And fun fact, flat fish can be either left or right sided and one is considered better tasting (I can’t remember which)

And the plan count:

Serious Plans: K66:14 D66:1 MMK:1

Funding Plans: K66:1

It’s a plan, I Swear!: K66:4

New category: Oh look! Progress (Not actually invading today, just trying to make it look they are so HQ will leave them alone): K66:2 (The ocean invasion plan went here, though it could fit almost anywhere)

Episode 15: This is one I’ve always really enjoyed....fun fact: psychologists seem to be a bit undecided about multiple personalities and over the years have gone back and forth a few times on whether it’s a real psychological condition or created by a person reacting a certain way to unrelated things (for example there was a time when a lot of people were diagnosed and it was traced back to a repressed memory, but when the catalyst events were researched it turned out that most never happened and those people were highly susceptible to suggestion).

On that note there are a lot of fun little touches in this episode like the fact that Momoka’s legs don’t fit in the machine (of course it’s made for somebody much shorter, but still), how when the the two Momokas merge the reversed light and dark pink on their swimsuits also blend to create a peachy pink (subtle), and the nod to frogs hibernating. It’s also worth noting that this episode aired in 2004, in July I believe, which is part of the reason why Keroro mentions the Olympics since this was shortly before the 2004 Summer Olympics in Athens (Also Keroro & Giroro’s expressions while swimming are just strangely delightful, the way their faces look when their expressions break the face’s natural patterning).

Now onto something big that has caused a lot of confusion in regards to the original subtitles: The bleeped out bit was supposed to be Patrasch, not Cleopatra. The name and this entire bit of the scene was supposed to a reference to the Dog of Flanders anime series that was part of the World Masterpiece Theater series, namely the ending scene of the anime where the boy and his dog (Patrasch) both freeze to death in a church. The book is considered a classic children’s story in Japan and the 1975 anime still occasionally reruns on T.V. and received a remake movie in 1997, and the ending scene has been referenced in many other works (One example that’s made it here is the Pokemon episode Holy Matrimony). Basically, it’s the anime counter part to calling out “Rosebud”.

As for the censor bleep, that’s something that sometimes happens when somebody name-drops something that the production company doesn’t have the rights to, I’ve seen it in talk shows too. I believe it’s related to the way Japanese copyright laws work in regards to parody and references; appearently they’re allowed as long as the copyright holder doesn’t object, so by bleeping out name-drops and putting pixelation or censor bars over the faces of famous characters they can help lower the chances of a complaint by just suggesting the other work instead of out right referencing it. When there is a complaint the scene can end up being removed or in some cases, like the first episode of Osomatsu-san, the entire episode can be banned from official release.

Oh by the way, I’m presuming “Oha” is short for ohayou or good morning, I know around this time there was a children’s idol/media show called “Oha-star” which used a similar greeting.

Episode 16: It’s the Masami episode, and I have to admit, I had forgotten how far off the deep end Tamama goes in this one; when he showed up I expected him to be excited, but sweet goodness I didn’t expect him to be that excited. This bit is for the cross-section of Keroro & Pony fans, but I always imagined that if they had the originally human Sunset Shimmer appear in Equestria Girls they would handle it a bit like this

Also this is the second time Mois has come really close to destroying the Earth and I have to wonder how it repairs itself afterward so it isn’t already on the brink when she starts, the best I can think of is that magma flows into the crack and solidifies, linking the ground back together; sort of like when you get a cut

Episode 17:

Actually, it’s a bit interesting that Tamama & Giroro were the ones who fell in the water tank; dark colours absorb heat better than light ones and red tends to make people feel warmer so they’re actually the best able to warm up afterwards. Also in part two the Aliens could have done better if they switched Mois & Dororo and Momoka dodging Natsumi was a fun detail, but didn’t they already establish the being watched feeling was caused by a weird but harmless alien? Having said that, I can imagine some ghost stories would actually be more frightening for a ghost since there’s a chance you’ll encounter whoever the story is about

The next two paragraphs are just talking about two ghost stories mentioned in the episode that I wasn’t sure how well know they were, if you already know them feel free to skip to episode 18

The T.V. program Keroro & Tamama are watching at the beginning is an adaption of a famous ghost story; there are many variations, the basic premise is a jealous wife thinks her husband is smitten with the maid and destroys one of their best plates so she can frame the maid and fire her. When the maid is accused she tries counting the plates and when she finds there’s one missing she searches for it, in one way or another this leads to the maid dying in a well near the house shortly after and her ghost appearing every night, counting the plates and always being one plate short.

As for Koyuki’s story, I’m not sure if the subtitles are quite right; she says “entrust”, so....Either way it’s the story of the Yuki Onna or Snow Woman. Although she’s known for freezing people to death in the mountains, in this story she spares a young man and warns him never to tell anyone of the encounter or he will suffer “a fate worse than death”. Eventually he marries, has children and forgets all about the incident, then he suddenly remembers it one night and tells his wife only to find out she was the Snow Woman all along and that because he told the story to somebody she must leave and warns him to take good care of their children. The fate worse than death she mentioned was having loved someone so much and had her taken away from him.

Episode 18: Alright, I have an odd question....If they’re doing a manzai or cross talk routine, does Keroro play “The dumb one”? The way a lot of these work is that there’s one person who says ridiculous, outlandish things and a more normal person who reacts; the former role is called “Boke”, the same as in “Bokegaeru”, so it would be a bit funny if actually choose that part.

Also Keroro & Mois’ disguise names translate as “Blue Sky Keroko” (Aozora Keroko) and “Great Sea Mois” (Unabara Mois....Appearently it was supposed to be an N, I was surprised too). They don’t show up until the next beach episode, but Nankyoku Tamae is “Southpole Tamae” and Giroro’s I believe is supposed to be a nod to Cucuruz Doan, a character from Mobile Suit Gundam who only appeared in one episode which never aired overseas.

Episode 19: Actually, Natsumi’s reaction seems a bit much to me; Dororo was making the takoyaki properly and had good intentions, Giroro was actually helping children win at his game (Come to think of it, considering Japan’s laws about gun ownership those games are probably the only time any of these children ever touch a real gun), and they removed Kururu’s rigged booth from the manga, so the only dodgy bit was the masks (and isn’t the scoop supposed to be defective with the normal ones being slightly more secure? so wouldn’t it be okay if she fiddled with the wire or used it upside down? I’m thinking about this more than I should, aren’t I?). I’m fairly sure her reaction to the radio plan would also have been less if it had been during another show

Episode 20: At the beginning Dororo makes a statement about protecting the Earth’s environment after invading and I’m going to hop onto my soapbox and mention that he’d probably do a better job. Did you know there are massive patches of garbage floating in the oceans caused by currents bringing the garbage together? Research has been done into cleaning it but if we could even just remove the plastics that would remove one of the main types of waste in these patches, benefit the (at least) 267 species affected by the photodegradation of plastics in the ocean, and save both petrochemicals and the energy that goes into creating new plastics (To give you an idea of the difference recycling makes, by recycling one aluminium cam instead of making a new one you can save enough energy to recycle that can 20 times or enough to power your house for 4 hours)....The ozone layer is starting to grow back, so let’s keep going (If nothing else do it because it would make Dororo happy)

I’d like to point out as well that they had recycling in the Edo period (one example was shops that repaired broken pottery, which were so popular that for a year no new pottery was made at all)....On a more lighthearted note the Keroro platoon looks adorable in those little sailor outfits

Episode 21: I have to wonder about Kururu’s handling of the video: on the one hand, he did seem to genuinely be upset about it, on the other hand not saving your progress is more of a beginner mistake than you would expect given he does this work all the time (and the laughing when the phone falls in the drink could be taken as either finding it funny or that laugh people do when everything has gone so spectacularly wrong it’s the only way to can cope with it all). In other words part of me suspects that he did have a backup stored away somewhere and just wanted to enjoy everyone else’s emotional highs and lows. It’s also interesting to compare Natsumi’s more transformational approach to coping with the heat (change the air’s temperature so it’s colder) to Koyuki’s more adaptive approach (change one’s body temperature so the air feels colder by comparison)

I also really enjoy the second part (and I’m sure Dororo would have too if he had gone with them), though I admit I used to get vertigo from the bit at the beginning with the other motorists (Appearently it’s a Lupin reference) when they fly off the road. The end is adorable though, when they realise they were helped by Grandmother Akina (though the scenes when she helps them are charming too)

#keroro gunso #sgt frog #Year of Keroro Challenge

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unpunny · 7 years

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Once upon a time there was a king named King John...

Once upon a time there was a king named King John. He ruled a happy kingdom, because there were no taxes and free beer given out every day. Everyone was content except for one thing. That thing was that there was not much room to spread out. Everyone's gardens were just a little bit too small. King John was upset about this, for it was the only bad thing in his kingdom.

One day, it was a Tuesday, he asked his advisors, "How are we going to solve this problem?". The advisors disappeared off into the pub and came back many hours later and said, "I love you mate, you know that? I do. I really do." Some time later, when they had sobered up a little they told the king what was to be done. This is what they said. "What you should do, your majesty, is invade the neighboring kingdom, ruled by the evil King *&$#. He is so evil, even his name has to be censored. We should gather an army and go and take some of his land." "That's a wicked idea" said King John, and promptly set up a poster campaign asking for volunteers for his army.

Loads of people were big up for this idea, consequently the army was very large. It numbered 1024 people and a goat. After much preparation and training this huge army set off with the King to invade the kingdom of *&$#. I would however take many days to travel all that way, but they did not mind, for the prize was worth it - more land for all (including the goat).

At the end of the first day the pitched camp, had a few beers, and some food, and fell asleep. When he awoke the next morning the king was shocked and upset to see that half of his proud army had been killed in the night. Only 512 remained. He was distraught, and ran around shouting for the others to get up. It was then that he saw, away in the distance, just going over the hilltop, a man. He was dressed all in white on a white horse. He had white boats and carried a white flag at the end of his white lance. King John yelled to the white man, but he ignored him. The king pulled himself together and sat down to breakfast. His advisors said, "Don't worry, your majesty. We have more than enough men to defeat King *&$#. We'll continue after breakfast". So they did.

They journeyed all that day and by dusk were very tired, so they didn't have so much beer. The king wasn't taking any chances, so he posted guards around the camp. Then he went to sleep. Next morning he awoke and ran from his tent. "AAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHH" he cried. Another half of his men had been killed. Just as they were counting exactly how many had been killed the king noticed the white horseman again. Dressed all in white he was riding away into the sunrise. The king spotted that the white man had totally white hair. The king was a bit annoyed by now, as only 256 remained from his once proud army, but had no choice but to continue on his quest.

They traveled all day and in to the night, so that when the king finally called a halt, the men and him all slept straight away. The king woke first and could hear the sound of hooves outside his tent. He burst outside to see the white horseman galloping past his tent. In the horseman's arms there was a white guitar, which the man was playing as he disappeared off into the sun. Upon looking around he found that half of his men were dead. A mere 128 remained. The king was beside himself with rage, and the remaining men had to restrain him and calm him down.

They sat down and came up with a new plan. "We'll have to take the enemy by stealth, as there aren't enough of us to kill them in a fight". His army, now looking small and a little worried, agreed and set off for a day's travel. They decided to take it easy that day and didn't travel more than about 10 miles. The sun set and they made camp. They ate their rations, which had increased enormously, and settled down to sleep. All night the king was plagued by visions of the white horseman. He woke in a cold sweat just as the sun was rising. He opened his tent door with a sense of trepidation. As he looked around it became clear that half of the remaining men lay dead. The king, almost resigned to defeat, just shrugged. "Come on everyone, we might as well get going. We might be able to defeat King *&$# with 64 men". Just then the white horseman burst out from behind a tent and started galloping away into the east. Once again he was playing his white guitar, and waving his white flag. The king shouted at him to stop, but he didn't even look back.

The army packed up and started their long days march. They stopped just before nightfall and set up camp. As they were all very nervous about going to sleep, because they had seen so many of their friends murdered, they all decided to stay awake. Time passed and one by one they all nodded off. In the morning the king was awoken by the sound of shouting. He ran out of his tent and was met by some of his men. "Half of the men are dead", they said. The king just nodded and gave the order to march. As they were packing up the king saw the white horseman trotting off into the distance. He just waved and started off.

All through that day the king tried in vain to think of a new plan which could be accomplished with 32 men. In the end he decided on a competition against the best of King *&$#'s men. The winner would take half of the other's lands. That night they set up camp in a wood. Because they had had to leave most of their provisions behind (there were not enough people to carry them) they hunted deer to eat. After they had eaten their food they all fell asleep. In the morning the king guessed what was going to happen, and he was right. Half his men lay dead and the white horseman was galloping off into the sunrise. As he galloped he was throwing white rose petals from a white bag and scattering them behind him. The king looked at his 16 men. "Well, we've come too far just to turn around and go back. We might as well try", he said. His men agreed and set off towards the *&$# kingdom.

King John was going a little crazy in the head at this point. More than a thousand of his men had been killed while they slept, and he could do nothing about it. "Not tonight" the king said to himself. That evening they stopped a little earlier and built a tall fence around the camp. They put spikes on top of the fence and went to sleep. In the morning the king woke and burst from his tent. He was eager to see if his plan had succeeded. Alas it had not. Half the men were dead and there was a large hole in the fence. Peering through the hole the king saw the white horseman riding away. He was distraught. The 8 remaining men comforted him. "Maybe we can ask King *&$# for a treaty. Then we can share lands", they told the king. The king would not listen and gave the order to pack up and march.

They rode fast all day and had covered 50 miles by nightfall. The king said nothing as he lay down to sleep. The men decided that half of them would remain awake and stand guard. They drew straws and settled down for a long night. In the morning the king woke up, stretched, and had a coffee before leaving his tent. He opened the tent flap cautiously and peered about. Four men remained alive. The others (the ones who had been on guard) were all dead. The king yelled as the white horseman rode past on his white horse, waving his white flag, playing his white guitar and scattering his white rose petals. The 4 men packed up what few possessions they could carry and set off.

All that day the king sat on his horse and laughed to himself. When they eventually reached a place to camp they were very tired. They had been riding for days, they were hungry, thirsty and had seen many friends killed in their sleep. They sank down onto the ground and slept. "Oh. What a surprise", was the king sarcastic exclamation in the morning. "Half my men are dead. Only 2 remain. And there goes the white horseman off into the sunrise". He and his two men, Alan and Nala, set off. They were nearly at their destination, so they could not stop now.

They rode and chatted about this and that. The king seemed in a very jovial mood. Alan and Nala thought that he was all right until he jumped off his horse and started attacking a tree because it was "looking at him funny". They thought that was a good time to stop for the night. They pitched their tents, one for the king and one for the two men, and slept a peaceful night. In the morning the king went outside and poked his head into the men's tent. One of them, Nala, was dead. He woke Alan and started looking about for the now familiar white horseman. He saw him just mounting his horse and ran after him. The king could not catch up with him, and came back to camp. He and Alan were one days march away from the castle of King *&$#, so they polished their armor and sharpened their swords. Then they rode off towards the castle.

Near evening they saw the castle. It was huge and dark. They felt a little foolish turning up with the smallest army ever to try to take over this mighty army, but they could not travel home without trying so they pitched a tent and waited for morning. When the sun rose the king awoke to find that his last man had been killed. 1024 of his men had been killed while they slept. The king burst out of his tent. He was confronted with the white horseman. His clothes were white, his hair and beard were white, he carried a white guitar, and there were white rose petals scattered on the ground by his feet. The white man looked a little on worried and edged slowly towards his white horse. "Have you been killing all my men while they've been asleep?" asked King John. "No", replied the man.

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