LNH20: NHOP # 1

Andrew Perron pwerdna at gmail.com
Sat Nov 8 09:47:43 PST 2014


On 11/8/2014 7:06 AM, Tom Russell wrote:
> Tyler is dead: to begin with.

I really need to actually read A Christmas Carol.

> Why they were friends, she had no idea.
> Maggie was a big fat ugly nothing with no personality and no friends,
> except for Tyler. Tyler, on the other hand, was charming, extroverted,
> and "normal", apart from his penchant for pedantry and semicolons and
> stupid hats and suspenders and Velcro shoes and pince-nez glasses and
> Deanna Durbin and eight-hour board games about trains and pronouncing
> robot so it rhymes with butt and, well, okay, she can see why he
> didn't have many friends.

I dunno, you both sound pretty cute.

>     That wasn't the usual self-pity talking. It was a fact. The night
> of her twenty-second birthday, and every night after, she turned into
> a giant pink blob. Her skin and muscle and bone all became a kind of
> sticky, corrosive gelatin. Her eyes burned off and her mouth closed
> up. Her hair sizzled and her clothes were absorbed into her mass.
> While she still had a head, and arms, and legs, everything sort of ran
> together, and it was nothing that resembled a human being.

...yoooooooo o.o;

No judgment (I definitely want to see where this is going), just an 
observation: This probably should've been tagged Acraphobe.

> Young person, like yourself, suddenly
> manifesting all nature of supernatural powers, as you did; another
> young person gets in the way-- well, that's two-thirds of half of the
> good origin stories, innit?

In the X-Men, anyway

>     "Tyler's friend Maggie, how've you been? How's school? Did you pick
> a major yet? No? Then your nose, how about your nose? If you haven't
> picked a major, you should at least pick your nose." (Tyler's father
> was a fierce advocate of nose-picking.) "Why not do both? Why not pick
> nose-picking for your major? Or is it snot being offered?" (Also,
> inordinately fond of mild puns; the milder, the fonder.)

Dad jokes!

>     But that was when he was alive. After she had killed him, his
> family didn't want anything to do with Tyler's friend Maggie.


>     And not just because of the floor space her new sleeping tank takes
> up. The tank is a gift (she guesses) from the LNH, designed by
> Configuration Man to safely contain her corrosive blob-form.

Very good very good <3

>     What she does "feel"-- the only thing-- is something intensely yet
> indescribably physical. With no eyes, ears, nose, tongue, skin, or
> nerve endings, blob-Maggie doesn't see, hear, smell, taste, or feel.
> Yet there's something going on, something she can sense wordlessly,
> even if she struggles to put it into any kind of words. And that
> something is different here, in this room, than it was in Netropolis,
> or at Oakwood, or anywhere else she's been poked and prodded. And that
> difference scares her half to death.

Fascinating. o.o

> Most of the time-- sometimes to her
> irritation-- he did more, turning her chintzy little house of words
> into an ornate piece of architecture buttressed with semicolons and
> parentheticals, pillared with footnotes, and decorated with slight,
> charming little almost-jokes.

This is way too cute oh no

>     Female music major looking for place to stay
>     in walking distance from campus. Don't drink,
>     don't smoke, allergic to dogs, loves cats.
>     Small talent for cooking. Turns into flesh-
>     eating monster at midnight, otherwise affable.


> She's not even sure if she is "otherwise affable"; it's the kind of
> thing that Tyler would end that sentence with, and so she includes it
> as a sort of good luck charm.


> Calls are few and far between, and most of them-- and this
> pitfall only became obvious in hindsight-- interpret "turns into
> flesh-eating monster at midnight" as some kind of pervy sex thing.

D'oh. ^^;

> Maggie would describe
> her as a stick with breasts, but she's not so sure about the latter.
> Really, Lily's built like a boy: flat hips, flat chest, sharp angles,
> zero curves.


>     Maggie looks at the room, then at Lily. In the half hour since
> they've left the restaurant, two more little bubbles of flesh have
> popped and been replaced by gray little stones. These two are on her
> face, and yet she still looks strangely beautiful. It's the smile, she
> realizes; the crinkle of her nose and the twinkle of her eyes. She's
> turning into a flesh-eating monster, and is totally punk-rock about
> it. Maggie wishes she could be like that.
>     She says yes, and I guess this is as good a spot as any to say see
> you next time.


Andrew "NO .SIG MAN" "Juan" Perron, this story is very hmmmmmm.

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