insomnia report
Aug. 14th, 2003 02:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kaylarudbekHello to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
trickofthedark who newly friended me.
My mind was racing...more stuff that needs a strong dose of sunlight or something...why I get these weird, weird recurring scenes in my head, I do not know...
Brooke and I were thrashing out some issues about this one, but her line for the Bosses talking about Melly, saying, "why does she keep on requisitioning cucumbers when she never actually eats them?" made me laugh so loud that I swear they heard it in downtown Milwaukee.
more Hobson's Choice
I hadn’t realized that “Straight” Arrow had told everyone that we were together. That we were a couple. That stupid clueless idiot had just assumed that since we were the only two Earth-humans here, of course we were going to get together. I sat as far away from him at the table as I could manage, and glared at him. He didn’t even notice. He probably wouldn’t notice if I hit him over the head with a plasma charge. Arrogant presumptuous bastard. I was suddenly hit with a flash of inspiration.
I jumped up on the table, spoon and mug in hand. I started banging the spoon against the mug. “Attention, everyone!” I shouted. “May I have your attention, please?”
Everyone in the dining hall fell silent. Hundreds of aliens were staring at me. Arrow looked utterly poleaxed. Perfect.
“I have recently found out that many of you are under the impression that Simon Arrow and I are a couple. I would like to take this opportunity to announce that we are not. As far as I am concerned, I am single and looking. And for those of you who don’t know me, my name is Melly Davies, and I live in Section 557. Melly, not Melpomene, not Pommy, not Mene. Melly, in Section 557. That concludes this public service announcement.”
I hopped off the table and sat down quickly, before Arrow could recover and manhandle me down. He got up from his seat, and started spluttering, “Melpomene Davies, what the hell do you mean we aren’t a couple, and you’re single and looking?”
I glared at him. “I meant every single word of it, Simon Theodore Arrow,” I shouted in the deepest bass voice I could muster. “I have had more than enough of you trying to run my life for me. I am not, have never been, and will never be, your girlfriend, lover, or significant other. I know goddamn frigging well that if there were any other Earth-human woman on this space station besides me, that you’d be trying to get into her pants and not mine.”
“Look, if this is about me turning you down when we were eighteen, I’m sorry. I wasn’t interested then, but I am interested now. Isn’t that enough?”
I shook my head. “Absolutely not, Arrow. And nothing you could do or say would be enough at this point. Now, I have had enough of you trying to run my life. If I catch you playing any more games with the Bosses over me, I will make sure you never get anything you requisition ever again. I will screw up your payroll and leave statements six ways from Sunday. Is that perfectly clear?”
He laughed. “Oh, Melpomene. You’re just upset. You’ll get over it.”
“Don’t call me Melpomene,” I snarled. “And for that comment, I will screw up your payroll, leave, and requisitions for the next six weeks. See you later, Arrow.”
To Save a Life
I was nervous as I walked around the immigration reception area in the space station. I could feel the target as if it were painted on my back. Corentyn St. James may have been reported dead, but his friends and supporters had long memories.
The customs agent was still busy with my former college classmates – and how they had wound up here I had no idea. But they were here and keeping the agent busy. I tried to calm myself down so that I could listen to see if any other telepaths were here.
I finally recognized the feel of the mind I found; Philip MacMurtaugh, S.J., my classmate from my canon law doctorate, the Second to my First in our year. MacMurtaugh, I sent to him. MacMurtaugh, I’m here on – well, wherever we are, and I desperately need your help. I could feel his startled delight. Delmaris? Darling, whatever are you doing here and not back home?
I don’t know, I replied. But if I remember it correctly, I think that there’s still an arrest warrant out for me. If Cory St. James or his merry men don’t get to me first, that is. And what are you doing here?
Publish or parish, Dark and Deadly One. He and I shared laughter at the old joke. Actually, I wanted a vacation, and I had a feeling you’d need me here sooner or later. And Her Grace the Archbishop concurred.
So what are you doing now, MacMurtaugh? I asked him. The line of my classmates kept moving, albeit rather slowly. Everybody kept on arguing with the customs/immigration agent, which was good because it gave me more of a chance to talk with MacMurtaugh before I had to go through processing. It was bad because it got the agent into a bad mood, which I really did not need to deal with.
Helping out the Holy See’s consul, and directing high school theater in my spare time. Aha. I have how I can smuggle you out. Although I warn you, it will bring back bad memories for you.
Do it, I replied. Nothing would bring back worse memories than to be in jail. And being dead, I’d have no memories at all.
Roger Wilco. We’re doing a production of “Sweeney Todd,” for your information.
I gulped. So you’re going to cut my throat, Phil?
Make it look like it, at any rate. And goodbye, reputation and honor.
Phil, you don’t have to do it yourself!
I don’t trust any of these louts I teach to fake it without hurting you, and I’m big enough and mean enough that you won’t hurt me too much as you fight me off. And I can smuggle you into the Jesuit chapterhouse and onto a starship very easily, which my students can’t do.
You might be surprised.
Indeed. I don’t want to dwell on it. And start shielding your thoughts, dear one. Say some prayers, so that I can track you that way.
I started mentally reciting in Latin, so that I could still talk in English. The words sounded in my head as fast and staccato as machine gun bullets. Salve regina, mater misericordiae, vita dulcedo et spes nostra salve….then Ave Maria, gratia plena, dominus tecum…Phil’s voice joined me more slowly, with Credo in unum Deum…I slowed down to match him, and imagined having a rosary “triple-wrapped around my wrist.”
I felt a touch on my throat, and turned in shock. Phil’s eyes met mine as he clamped his hand over my mouth. I tried to let out a pretend scream as we mentally recited yet another Ave Maria together. I let my eyes close as I felt Phil run the knife over my throat and pierce the bag he’d placed on it. I could feel the cold stage blood make the front of my shirt wet.
trickofthedark who newly friended me. My mind was racing...more stuff that needs a strong dose of sunlight or something...why I get these weird, weird recurring scenes in my head, I do not know...
Brooke and I were thrashing out some issues about this one, but her line for the Bosses talking about Melly, saying, "why does she keep on requisitioning cucumbers when she never actually eats them?" made me laugh so loud that I swear they heard it in downtown Milwaukee.
more Hobson's Choice
I hadn’t realized that “Straight” Arrow had told everyone that we were together. That we were a couple. That stupid clueless idiot had just assumed that since we were the only two Earth-humans here, of course we were going to get together. I sat as far away from him at the table as I could manage, and glared at him. He didn’t even notice. He probably wouldn’t notice if I hit him over the head with a plasma charge. Arrogant presumptuous bastard. I was suddenly hit with a flash of inspiration.
I jumped up on the table, spoon and mug in hand. I started banging the spoon against the mug. “Attention, everyone!” I shouted. “May I have your attention, please?”
Everyone in the dining hall fell silent. Hundreds of aliens were staring at me. Arrow looked utterly poleaxed. Perfect.
“I have recently found out that many of you are under the impression that Simon Arrow and I are a couple. I would like to take this opportunity to announce that we are not. As far as I am concerned, I am single and looking. And for those of you who don’t know me, my name is Melly Davies, and I live in Section 557. Melly, not Melpomene, not Pommy, not Mene. Melly, in Section 557. That concludes this public service announcement.”
I hopped off the table and sat down quickly, before Arrow could recover and manhandle me down. He got up from his seat, and started spluttering, “Melpomene Davies, what the hell do you mean we aren’t a couple, and you’re single and looking?”
I glared at him. “I meant every single word of it, Simon Theodore Arrow,” I shouted in the deepest bass voice I could muster. “I have had more than enough of you trying to run my life for me. I am not, have never been, and will never be, your girlfriend, lover, or significant other. I know goddamn frigging well that if there were any other Earth-human woman on this space station besides me, that you’d be trying to get into her pants and not mine.”
“Look, if this is about me turning you down when we were eighteen, I’m sorry. I wasn’t interested then, but I am interested now. Isn’t that enough?”
I shook my head. “Absolutely not, Arrow. And nothing you could do or say would be enough at this point. Now, I have had enough of you trying to run my life. If I catch you playing any more games with the Bosses over me, I will make sure you never get anything you requisition ever again. I will screw up your payroll and leave statements six ways from Sunday. Is that perfectly clear?”
He laughed. “Oh, Melpomene. You’re just upset. You’ll get over it.”
“Don’t call me Melpomene,” I snarled. “And for that comment, I will screw up your payroll, leave, and requisitions for the next six weeks. See you later, Arrow.”
To Save a Life
I was nervous as I walked around the immigration reception area in the space station. I could feel the target as if it were painted on my back. Corentyn St. James may have been reported dead, but his friends and supporters had long memories.
The customs agent was still busy with my former college classmates – and how they had wound up here I had no idea. But they were here and keeping the agent busy. I tried to calm myself down so that I could listen to see if any other telepaths were here.
I finally recognized the feel of the mind I found; Philip MacMurtaugh, S.J., my classmate from my canon law doctorate, the Second to my First in our year. MacMurtaugh, I sent to him. MacMurtaugh, I’m here on – well, wherever we are, and I desperately need your help. I could feel his startled delight. Delmaris? Darling, whatever are you doing here and not back home?
I don’t know, I replied. But if I remember it correctly, I think that there’s still an arrest warrant out for me. If Cory St. James or his merry men don’t get to me first, that is. And what are you doing here?
Publish or parish, Dark and Deadly One. He and I shared laughter at the old joke. Actually, I wanted a vacation, and I had a feeling you’d need me here sooner or later. And Her Grace the Archbishop concurred.
So what are you doing now, MacMurtaugh? I asked him. The line of my classmates kept moving, albeit rather slowly. Everybody kept on arguing with the customs/immigration agent, which was good because it gave me more of a chance to talk with MacMurtaugh before I had to go through processing. It was bad because it got the agent into a bad mood, which I really did not need to deal with.
Helping out the Holy See’s consul, and directing high school theater in my spare time. Aha. I have how I can smuggle you out. Although I warn you, it will bring back bad memories for you.
Do it, I replied. Nothing would bring back worse memories than to be in jail. And being dead, I’d have no memories at all.
Roger Wilco. We’re doing a production of “Sweeney Todd,” for your information.
I gulped. So you’re going to cut my throat, Phil?
Make it look like it, at any rate. And goodbye, reputation and honor.
Phil, you don’t have to do it yourself!
I don’t trust any of these louts I teach to fake it without hurting you, and I’m big enough and mean enough that you won’t hurt me too much as you fight me off. And I can smuggle you into the Jesuit chapterhouse and onto a starship very easily, which my students can’t do.
You might be surprised.
Indeed. I don’t want to dwell on it. And start shielding your thoughts, dear one. Say some prayers, so that I can track you that way.
I started mentally reciting in Latin, so that I could still talk in English. The words sounded in my head as fast and staccato as machine gun bullets. Salve regina, mater misericordiae, vita dulcedo et spes nostra salve….then Ave Maria, gratia plena, dominus tecum…Phil’s voice joined me more slowly, with Credo in unum Deum…I slowed down to match him, and imagined having a rosary “triple-wrapped around my wrist.”
I felt a touch on my throat, and turned in shock. Phil’s eyes met mine as he clamped his hand over my mouth. I tried to let out a pretend scream as we mentally recited yet another Ave Maria together. I let my eyes close as I felt Phil run the knife over my throat and pierce the bag he’d placed on it. I could feel the cold stage blood make the front of my shirt wet.
