STICKY POST
Wednesday, 20. June 2007, 21:58:16
real post
Welcome to my little blog 
This is where I collect the little stories that I write, instead of hiding them in a dusty old notebook. There may also be the occasional
real (the horror!
) post, and other possible random bits (probably phone-related). But it's mainly stories
. If you want to know about me, there's my About page, or the link section titled "Me Me Me!".
My stories are almost always self-contained. There are a couple of character names I use frequently -
Aldernak and
Sophie. In any story they can take any role or suffer any fate. On the rare occasion two stories are linked the title will say so - otherwise just treat them as taking place in different realities.
I'm still not entirely sure how I ended up posting here regularly. I signed up in 2006 to ask a few questions in the forums, answered a few while I was there, but mostly stayed away. So in my first 8 months I did about 50 posts, all serious (and mostly on Groupwise WebAccess
). Then, bored one evening in January, I signed on and saw a thread in the
Nitrous Intense forums titled 'Create A Story'.
After over 20 months and over 12,000 posts, I'm still here. 
Link to last comment
Friday, 13. November 2009, 22:01:16
story
I can hear them coming for me, but it's too late for that now. My machine is complete, and soon I shall join the ranks of the gods themselves. Let the peasants come! Let them batter down the doors, slaughter my servants, tear my castle to the ground! I care not - I am beyond such trivialities now. Their futile attempts to stop me will only hasten my ascendance.
Aha! What's this? Some enterprising soul has just climbed through the window, and now stealthily advances on me with a dagger clasped in his hand. Look at the poor fool, desperately stabbing my body with his puny blade - as if I needed it anymore. And now he's gone in a puff of red smoke, my machine detecting and harvesting the interloper. Just another bit of energy towards giving me immortality.
"Boss! Boss! We got problems!"
I wondered when he'd call. Time to coalesce a bit and vocalize.
"Yes, yes, peasants at the door breaking in, I know."
"Yes, boss, but - "
"Fight just a little, but steer them up here I like told you to - I need them."
"Boss, they're not the problem, it's - "
The lights suddenly go out, and my beloved machine turns off with a distressed whine.
"- npower."
I find myself abruptly lying on the slab, blood pouring from a dozen stab wounds. Agonisingly, I turn my head towards the power meter. Empty! What have I done?! I stumble towards it, fumbling desperately through my pockets for £1 coins as the lab door shakes under a torrent of blows.
The first coin goes rattling down the slot as the door bursts open. The lights flicker on, and the machine begrudging starts the boot sequence.
As I fall dying to the ground, buried under a hail of blades, the last thing I see is the Windows logo...
Thursday, 4. June 2009, 08:35:20
sophie, story, aldernak
They all looked at each other, puzzled.
"Maybe check that thing over to the left?", said Sophie. "It looks interesting."
"It's pink - that's why it looks interesting to you. And what good would looking at it do? It won't change what we see - what's he going to do? Walk closer and say that yes, it is indeed pink?"
"Well, why don't you suggest something, Bob? You've been bloody useless so far!"
Treguard ahem-ed loudly and made a cutting gesture to the camera.
"Life Force is weak, dungeoneers. And the shoggoth is not far behind you."
"I think we should try blowing the horn again, to see if a wall collapses so we can escape."
"Oh, a horn solution again, Dave - that's been your suggestion to every room since we got it. Maybe a wall will collapse, or maybe it'll frighten away the goblin, or perhaps it'll shake free a key trapped somewhere we can't reach"
Treguard noticed that the figure in the helmet had started absent-mindedly scratching himself, and signalled the producer that enough was enough.
"Make haste, dungeoneers...no, it is too late - the shoggoth arrives!"
"What's happening?" said the forgotten figure in the helmet, "I hear something large approaching"
Then the screen was suddenly covered by a large, vaguely-humanoid mass...the Life Force vanished in an instant, and just as the screen went out they heard a terrible scream.
"Ooh, nasty." said Treguard.
"Is that it? Five minutes of sodding gameplay after waiting five months?!"
"Your quest was short, dungeoneers, but eventful."
"Bollocks to that - let's have another try. I'll be in the helmet this time."
"I'm afraid it's time for you to leave, Sophie. Try entering again next season, though. Security will show you out."
They all glared at Treguard in silent fury, then sullenly walked to the exit. As they left, Sophie kicked Treguard hard in a tender area.
"Ooh, nasty." said Bob, sarcastically.
for those who missed out :Knightmare
Friday, 29. May 2009, 08:41:50
holiday, story
Holidays - he hated them. Dragged to flea-bitten corners of the world every year, just so his wife could spend money on shoddy local trinkets while he cowered back at the hotel, recovering from the previous night's deadly dinner. "It's good for the children to see foreign countries, dear", she'd trill, every time he dared suggest a simple relaxing week in the Lake District rather than a demented pilgrimage to see the Taj Mahal or something like that. He wasn't buying her explanation about the kids either - they'd travelled five times as a family, and he only remembered his kids learning some local swear words from a porter in Marrakech. Still, maybe they'd suddenly start spouting Sundanese or Tamil or Afrikaans one day and surprise him. They certainly never paid too much attention to where they went, unless it involved playing rather than 'absorbing foreign culture'.
Anyway, this year was different - he was stuck happily at home by himself, drinking beer, while her and the three snots traipsed around Caracas looking for God-knows-what. Sure, breaking his leg hurt at first, but it beat the hell of a family holiday. With a bit of luck she'd lose one of the little buggers too. Still, better not take any chances.
He reached out with the mouse, paused for a moment over the booking, then cancelled the return flight. Then he picked up the phone.
"Hello, i'm afraid i have to report the theft of my credit cards..."
He'd catch hell when she finally got back, but his leg was almost healed, the house would be sold on Tuesday, and in two weeks he'd be 'retired' somewhere far away...
Wednesday, 20. May 2009, 16:57:11
aldernak, interview, questions, series
What's it like being a recurring character?
Well, i don't really feel that the character itself recurs. I mean, i've been a struggling P.I., a demonic lord, a hapless boyfriend, a trapped tomb raider...not much common ground. I mean, i like varied roles but sometimes it gets a bit much, you know.
Do you really do your own stunts?
Almost always, unless there's a gun involved. We lost two stunt doubles doing Bang! before we got the shot to look right.
If you could be any of your characters, which would it be?
I'm rather fond of roles that put me in a position of power, especially Dread Lord Aldernak. The ability to have an underling killed at the merest whim...bliss. Sadly the worst i can do is sack my gardener.
There's been lots of press gossip about you and Sophie - what's the real story?
Depends on the script, surely? Sometimes it's all about love and peace, other times her appetites get the better of her...er, no comment.
What's your worst fear?
Er...this might sound a bit silly, but being replaced. Fortunately my ability to fit into most roles should mean my creator is less likely to get bored of me. It's important not to get typecast.
Can you tell us anything about your next project?
Only that it's a spoof of an old kids' tv show. I'm not revealing any more - that's what got Sideways Sam bumped off so quick.
Any final words for us?
Final? Hey, i'll be back here and you know it.
Monday, 11. May 2009, 18:32:54
aldernak, eccentric, story, sophie
"Cheese."
Aldernak was pacing up and down the hallway, rubbing his chin and mumbling under his breath.
"Cheese, cheese, cheese."
Sophie watched him warily, wondering if he'd finally lost the last of his marbles. They'd shared a flat for nearly ten years now, and each year he got somehow more eccentric. Some of it - like sorting the fridge alphabetically - was harmless enough. But his insistence that only his 25-year-old toaster could produce edible crumpets had led to a couple of nasty fires. Needless to say, the toaster itself had emerged from them as the lone surviving appliance.
And now this...whatever it was. She couldn't imagine what was going through his mind, but doubted it was heading to some world-changing wisdom. No, the odds were much higher that he thought he was a hungry mouse, which made her yellow dress a touch unfortunate. Who knew Tom & Jerry could have such an influence on a 43-year-old man?
"I've got it! Sophie, Sophie!"
She jumped, then walked slowly towards him, frying pan clutched tight behind her back.
"I've been thinking, if we move this chest of drawers into the bathroom, and this table into our bedroom, we can get another fridge in here."
"Er...why?"
"For the guests! Remember last week when we ran out of Brie and Sue was so disappointed? We'll have a cheese fridge! Nothing but cheese, high quality cheese, any kind they might need!".
She studied his face for a moment to see if he was serious, then improved the view with a well-aimed frying pan.
When he woke up in hospital two hours later, the first thing he saw was a toaster plugged in to the wall nearby...
Friday, 20. March 2009, 21:14:55
tunnel, darkness, story, series
The train pulled into the station, and the usual rush for the doors began. A hundred people trying to squash into a carriage made for fifty, not helped by the usual lazy sods who preferred to take their bike two stops rather than ride it two miles.
Aldernak pushed desperately between the platform zombies, made a dash for it, and succeeded in squeezing onto the train at the cost of only a grazed hand. There wasn't much room to move afterwards, squashed awkwardly against the doors with his butt pressed against something he preferred not to think about. But at least this time he wasn't nose-to-underarm with someone, and it beat the hell out of the time he'd spent the whole journey trying not to stumble face-first into giant man-boobs.
Suddenly the lights went out and the train stopped. The carriage filled with an annoyed nervous silence - people fidgeted, a child cried.
In the unexpected darkness Aldernak found himself staring through the window into a pair of sulphurous eyes. As others appeared around the carriage, there was a collective gasp from the passengers.
Then there was a sudden wrenching of metal, and somebody screamed.
They weren't the last...
Saturday, 21. February 2009, 18:17:07
story
"Yo, bitches!"
The trio of women turned and glared at him angrily. Had he said something wrong? His guidebook said this was a traditional London greeting in the early 21st century. He thumbed anxiously through the pages.
"Er...good evening, ladies of easy virtue. Might I crave a boon?"
"What?! You filthy little git - get away from us!"
"But-"
"Get lost!"
One of them whacked him in the head with her handbag, leaving a rather ugly purple bruise. As he fall awkwardly to the ground, they ran off.
Clearly that hadn't gone well. Was it his pronunciation? That'd teach him to skip the tour operator's language courses. Too late to make amends now - bygones.
He struggled to his feet and hurriedly checked everything was still intact. The recall device had a small dent in one side, but looked ok. The DNA camera and souvenir catcher were famously rugged, and he knew he'd break sooner than they did. Then he spotted it, nestled at the bottom of his case - the PortaPoopy, squashed flat and clearly unsalvageable.
There really wasn't any way that was good news, not for him or anyone around. Time was pressing, and his attempt to ask passers-by for help hadn't been a great success. Spotting a tall blue box a hundred metres away with the door ajar, he ran for it, rushed inside and sank down with his back against the door. A moment later someone started trying to push it open, but it was too late to worry about that or the unexpected size of the interior. He undid his belt and relaxed...
Several minutes passed...
He staggered out of the phone box and stared around him. Not quite as bad as he'd feared - just five people lay prone nearby, and one appeared to still be breathing. It was time to get out of there before anything else went wrong.
Buttoning up his shirt, he pressed the button in the centre of the recall device and blinked out of London. A moment later he appeared at the travel gate, and walked a little sheepishly out into the front room and past the front desk.
"Nice trip?" said the travel guide.
"Meh."
it's a bit hit-and-miss, I think
Wednesday, 14. January 2009, 08:44:00
fight, story
"So what do we do now?"
"We fight."
"Fight?"
"Yes, to the death."
"We WHAT?!"
"That's what it says."
"But...but..."
"En garde, Mike!"
"Hey, put that butter knife down! Yeeaaarrgghhhh!"
"Nice going, Pete. Really smart move."
"Thanks. I knew I had to strike fast before-"
"Don't thank me, you stupid twonk!"
"But...the rules?!"
"What part of 'role-playing' is confusing you?"
"I was playing an outraged knight, betrayed in love and facing his rival in a duel to the death."
"Yes. And?"
"Well, he has more hit points than me so it was important I got in the first blow, and made it a good one."
"Yes, and ordinarily we'd use a 2D20 roll, combine that with your Speed and QuickStrike attributes and subtract his Awareness and Defence stats, then work out whether you'd hit and how much damage you'd done. Not grab the butter knife and stab him with it!"
"Ah."
"You see the problem."
"Yes...sorry, Dave."
"You don't have a high enough Butter Knife skill to attempt a first strike with it - didn't you learn anything from last week?"
"It was a bar brawl scene - whacking Barry over the head with a chair was appropriate."
"Yes, but hardly feasible when you're playing a halfling and he's a giant. Did you wait for the dice? No, you just whacked him."
"I...er..."
"Well, now I've got to try and clean another mess up. Where's my Acts Of God list? Ah, there it is. Let's see what's in the Accidental Slaying section..."
"Please, not again!"
"...rolling the dice now...quit whining, Pete...and...12! Hey, you'll like this one, Pete!"
"I...I will?"
"A lightning strike! A sudden bolt of lightning frying Mike alive, and merely mildly singeing you. Of course, this destroys all his magic items that I know you were coveting, but you can't win them all."
"Mildly singeing?!"
"Oh, you'll hardly feel it, trust me. Hold out your hands."
"Well...ok."
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzztttttt!
*thud*
"And another win for the Dungeon Master!"
Thursday, 25. December 2008, 23:50:00
santa, christmas, story
Damn, this thing's heavy. Why's nobody happy with a book or a small toy anymore? If I had my way, they'd all get coal and be glad to have it, none of this games console rubbish. And why do they ALL need one? Why on earth am I supposed to deliver 3 PS3s to the Westenra kids - can't they play together? Share? But no - Muggins here is meant to lug 3 of the things across a slippery roof in the dead of night just so three spoilt brats can hide in their bedrooms all day.
It would be different if I was still in charge of the lists - she lets them get away with anything. How many on the naughty list this year? Six. Six out of billions - is she mad?! No, maybe I shouldn't blame her - not after that nasty incident with Johnnie Cochran.
And as for those anti-discrimination laws - did they ever think about me? That's my whole business! It's bad enough delivering to the snotty kids without having to deliver to the snobby parents too! Suits, jewellery, toasters, tvs - they're all in the sack these days. It's no wonder the elves are calling in sick more often when their workload increased six-fold overnight.
Well, we've had enough. Did you really think we'd sit back and accept this indefinitely? Really? Well, shove this up your stocking!
---------------------
"...leaving thousands dead across the world and many more injured. A previously-unknown terrorist organisation, Al-Santa, has claimed responsibility for these atrocities and issued a list of demands. An emergency UN Summit has been called to discuss..."
Monday, 17. November 2008, 09:21:06
story
It was such a long way down.
What was he doing up here on this damn ledge? Making an end of himself? Bah, he hadn't given up, not yet. So he was a freak now, so what?! Who cared what his moronic family thought - he was something else now, something better.
Of course, killing his sister as he fled hadn't been intentional. It meant he was going to have to do this very soon, thanks to those two cops inching towards him on either side. But no matter - he was ready.
He let go of the window ledge and stood there poised, the wind gently buffeting him. Then he leapt into space. For a few moments he plummeted, then his new wings spread themselves and he levelled out fifty feet from the ground, screaming his triumph as he soared over the traffic jam below. A few strong beats of his wings and he was level again with the ledge, laughing at the cops as they stood there open-mouthed. Then off he flew again, heading back to the lab where it all began, where - caaaaawk!
For a moment the boy and the bird hung in the air where they'd collided. Then they fell.
It was such a long way down.
Friday, 19. September 2008, 08:09:31
aldernak, story, sophie
Madness, that's what it was. Craziness, insanity, lunacy - all good words too.
Sadly he only had an 'i' instead of an 'a', and he was pretty sure Sophie would challenge 'midness'. Actually, since he challenged 'ai' earlier she'd been doing the same to him almost every round. Darn three-toed sloth.
Come on now, think! These were good-looking letters - a seven-letter word must be possible. Maybe with something on the board...
She was glaring at him again. Was he taking too long? Or was his foolish challenge earlier still rankling? It couldn't be because he was winning, because she had a 70 point lead.
Suddenly she reached over and rapped him painfully on the head with her knuckles.
"Hello? Anyone in there, Aldernak?"
"Ow! What was that for?!"
"Just checking you were still alive. Most people move occasionally."
"I'm thinking, ok?"
"Silly me for not recognising the signs."
He ignored her and tried to focus on his letters. Come on, there must be something...desi-, mes-, mis-, dis-, wait...dim, dimness? Yes, at last! Now, where to put it? Pluralise an existing word, or try something clever? His brow furrowed - far less options than he'd expected. Eventually, he settled on DIMNESS and AS, not quite the points fiesta he'd hoped for but at least he got a double-word score too. Let's see...10 (plus 2 more as an S was tripled) * 2 plus 2, plus 50. He plonked the letters down.
"76 points! And the lead too, i believe."
He grinned broadly at her, but she shook her head and said nothing. Then a grin spread across her face, and she started placing letters.
"S...Ass? S...Q...U...E...E...Z...E. Oh, bugger."
Aldernak looked ruefully at the board. A triple-word score, with a Q plus the Z on the double-letter square. 152 points, plus she'd got 9 from ASS.
"That wasn't nice."
She blew a raspberry at him.
"Your letter points, please. Game over."
"Er...14."
Needless to say, she'd won comfortably. Still, his last set of letters were remarkably apt.
FUKITOL.
Monday, 1. September 2008, 23:53:53
Full Circle, story, series
I strain to open my eyes, and find a angry-looking young woman glaring down on me. Unfortunately i'm still too drained to do more than utter a faint moan, which isn't well-received.
"Look around you! I saw the flash from two miles away, and now here's you sitting pretty at the centre of a huge, dead patch on my family's land! Nothing to say? Well, either you can't speak or won't speak. Doesn't matter which it is - my dad's going to want to see you."
She gestures to someone out of sight, and next thing i know my arms are roughly seized and i'm thrown face down onto the back of a wagon. My arms and legs are chained a moment later, and my tail awkwardly tethered to my back. Something sits on my backside, pressing me further into the wooden surface. I hear the woman's voice call out "Move!", and off we go...somewhere.
Hours pass, long and painful ones with my face bearing the brunt of every bump we encounter. Then finally i hear voices, and soon i can tell we're moving through a crowd of people.
"What is that thing?"
"Is that the Beast?"
"Look at that tail!"
"'tis sent from the Devil himself for sure."
"Kill it!"
Something splatters against my shoulder, and a brief barrage ensues. Then the cart begins to rock slightly.
"Get back, scum! Back to your sewers!"
The weight on my back lifts a bit and i hear gunfire. Never heard it before except in old movies - wish it wasn't so close. I think briefly of escape, but it doesn't seem wise right now.
The people flee in panic quickly, and i hear the woman giving orders. There's suddenly a voice close to my head - a man's.
"I saw you tense up back there. There's no escape for you, not yet. You really don't want to find yourself away from us - the townspeople - ", he paused to spit, " - will burn you alive in an instant. With us...we'll think about it a little first."
Hard to tell if he's being friendly or not - almost toneless speech. Plus my head's still jammed against the cart. I try and mumble something through my bruises.
"Whermph?"
He kicks me hard in the ribs - something breaks, and it's not me.
He howls.
"What the hell are you made of?! Dammit, i'll sort you!"
A pistol cocks by my ear.
"Good riddance!"
A shot is fired, and suddenly a body falls on me.
"Good riddance indeed. Damn parasite."
The woman again. I feel her plant her foot on the corpse's back.
"I'm in charge here. YOU ALL HEAR ME?!"
Nervous grunts.
"Good! On we go."
The cart lurches on into the unknown...
Friday, 15. August 2008, 08:30:41
error messages, story
"Fatal System Exception - (A)bort, (R)etry, (F)ail?"
My eyes go wide - that doesn't look good. Fatal?! Fatal for who? Have i annoyed the computer THAT much?
I cautiously move my hands away from the keyboard, look around nervously. Nothing seems to be happening. Would it happen instantly? The message is still blaring out its warning. Wait...Abort, Retry and Fail? Those look like options - maybe it's not too late to make amends. But which one to pick? Fail sounds dangerous. Abort sounds like an escape or surrender. Retry sounds positive, but might just annoy the computer even more.
I close my eyes for a few seconds, but it's still there when i open them again. Ok. Decision time. I reach out and tentatively press R.
"Error reading disk - (A)bort, (R)etry, (I)gnore?"
Ignore? Is that better than Fail somehow? Either way, i don't like the way this is going. I reach out and hit A.
"Abort failed. (A)bort, (R)etry, (F)ail?"
What the-? I press A again out of irritation.
"Abort failed. (A)bort, (R)etry, (F)ail?"
I don't like the way it's shepherding me towards Fail. R this time.
"An unknown error has occurred. (A)bort, (F)ail?"
Wait, where'd Retry go?! I press A.
"Keyboard malfunction. Press Space to continue"
Space? Continue what? I whack the Space bar angrily.
"(A)bort, (R)etry, (F)ail?"
What?! Dammit! I give in - F!
"Please wait..."
Wait? Wait for what?
"Starting uninstall..."
Whoa there...what uninstall?!
"Removing program files..."
I feel suddenly light-headed.
"Removing configuration files..."
My shoes disappear, as do my clothes. Hey, stop that! What the hell? Abort, abort!
"Removing user from main Earth directory..."
Eek! I make a dive for the power cable...i can see through my hand...everything's fading...
"Uninstall complete. Some files could not be removed, you may have to remove these manually."
A pair of glasses lie abandoned nearby.
Monday, 4. August 2008, 20:59:13
parcel, story
"Good morning, sir. How may i help you?"
"At last! I've been trying to ring this number for a week!"
"I'm sorry about that sir, we're very busy at this time of year. The rush season, you know."
"In April?"
"Er, yes...er, lots of Easter Eggs sent through the mail in April."
"But Easter was in March this year."
"That's right, sir."
"But, you're saying that...no, i'm not getting into that now, not on my phone bill. I'm trying to find what happened to a parcel. It was supposed to arrive a week ago."
"Do you have a reference number for it, sir?"
"Yes, it's ED155786619GB."
"Just a moment, sir."
Some tapping on a keyboard is heard.
"Yes, sir, it's out for delivery."
"I know it's out for delivery. It's been saying that every day for 10 days. Well, where is it?"
"I'm sorry, sir, i don't have that information available."
"Look, i'm only half a mile from the depot. The depot where it arrived two weeks ago!"
"Well, according to the records we couldn't deliver because you weren't at home."
"Not at home? Not at home?! I've not left the house once! Your alleged delivery person never even came near the house!"
"Perhaps you were in the bathroom when he called sir."
"Ten days in a row? I don't live on the toilet, you know!"
"It is possible, sir."
"Fine, ok, it's possible. And i suppose my wife and eldest son were on the toilet too, right? After all, what better family occasion is there than a trip to the bathroom?!"
"There's no need to shout, sir."
"Well, perhaps if you were actually helpful rather than make stupid comments i'd be a little calmer."
"I'm just speculating, sir."
"Well, how about i try that for a change. Let's see...my theory is that your parcel delivery company is so unbelievably useless that they can't find a house on the main road leading to their own depot after ten days of 'trying'."
"I assure you, sir-"
"Or perhaps so unbelievably pissed. I'm sure we're both aware of the presence of The Dog and Trumpet a scant three doors away from your establishment."
"I've no idea what you're talking about."
"I bet you're the only one left behind, manning the phones while the others go and deliver beer to their bellies."
"Er...about your parcel..."
"Suddenly want to change the subject? Ok, i'll bite. Where is my parcel?"
"Well, i need you to confirm the address matching the reference earlier."
"I see, so after ten 'attempts' at delivery, suddenly you think maybe you've been looking for the wrong house?"
"Er...yes."
"I'll tell you what the problem is. Your fellow muppets should have been looking for 6 Charter Street, as opposed to suddenly losing their way at 122 Charter Street and needing to ask the landlord for directions."
"I really can't comment on our route-finding methods, sir - company secrets."
"That's not a problem, i have my own. It's strange, but i just walked out the door, turned left, walked for a couple of minutes, and...there i am, outside the depot."
"You're outside? Now?!"
"Yes, i want my parcel. This way is much more efficient. Now, if you'll just open the door i'm sure we can find it together."
"I can't do that, sir - postal employees only."
"I had a feeling you'd say that. Well, no matter."
CLANG!
"Er...what was that, sir?"
"Just me and my little crowbar."
"Crowbar?!!"
"Yes, were you under the impression i was willing to wait anymore?"
"But...er...you can't do this! It's against the Postal Code! We'll stop you!"
"We? Your colleagues are currently in the pub heaving up their guts. Having a routine makes you vulnerable, you know."
"Eek! Stop that, you can't come in!"
"You should have delivered my parcel."
"Stay out!"
"Too late for that now...i'm inside and i can SEE you."
Gibbering.
"GIVE ME MY PARCEL!"
"It's over there...behind the TV!!"
"What's it doing there? Wait...are those beer stains on the wrapping paper?!"
"It was an accident!! Please...we didn't mean any harm, we just-"
CRUNCH!
"At last, some peace and quiet. Now, let's open this parcel."
Noises of paper being torn.
"Ah, there you are."
Sounds of turning pages.
"'add a drop of lavender to your bath, and soon you'll soak yourself calm.' Hey, that sounds good."
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