I found a religious extremist for you to hunt down.

 

 

Maybe America should be looking inward, before trying to find them in other countries. But that's not news at all.

 

(No offence to my non-extremist religious friends. People like he give you guys a bad reputation).

 

 

Now, I'm well aware that whinging about Microsoft's latest demon-spawned brainchild is about as avante garde as making jokes about POTUS Bush's overwhelming failures. But my new Acer laptop arrived the other day (if you didn't know, they couldn't fix my old one and so replaced it instead) and I'm mostly pretty happy. Dual-core processor, 120gb hard drive, stacks of RAM, and other nice little trimmings.

 

But there's one glaring error. One huge oversight, so massively all-pervasive and insidious that I'm stumped in trying to fix it.

 

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the laptop was shipped with a virus. Known to the masses as Microsoft Vista Home Premium, else known as Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here.

 

The problems start almost immediately. On first startup, one is treated to the full force of Vista's overbearing graphics (Vista is the first operating system that actually lists a graphics card as necessary for smooth operations) in a charming setup screen. What is my name, which desktop wallpaper do I want, which language do I want to use; all the basics. Oh, and do I want to use Automatic Updates? Well yeah, I'm not stupid. In XP, you got four choices: download and install updates without telling me, download them but let me choose which ones I want, let me know when downloads are ready but let me choose whether or not to have them, or do nothing at all. In Vista, you get just two choices: all or nothing. My way, or the highway. One was marked with a bright green shield and a very schoolmasterly tick, the other a smaller red shield with a large cross and devil horns. Guess which was which.

 

Being subversive as I am, I chose to receive no updates at all, with the intention of changing my settings later. But no, Vista wouldn't have it. I went to the control panel later on, and found that Vista had signed me up for automatic updates depsite me specifically saying that I did not want them. Manipulative and subversive is Vista.

 

My next trouble came when I was downloading AVG, just about the most well-known free antivirus in the computer world, I'd say.

Am I sure I'd like to download it? Yes. I'm sure. Thank you, Vista.

Oh no! Someone's trying to run the program! Are you sure you'd like to allow it? Yes. I opened it. Let me have my antivirus.

Wait! WAIT! The program is trying to change settings or install things on your computer! ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT THIS POTENTIAL VIRUS OR THREAT TO BE GIVEN FREE REIGN OVER YOUR COMPUTER? Yes. Thank you. It's an antivirus program.

 

Sigh. Vista's continual need for authorisation and assurance make it seem like a dependent child, who has to have everything sanctioned by a parent. It asks if I'm sure I want to open programs in Control Panel. Oh no! A terrorist might want to change my wallpaper! Ahhh!

 

So I got sick of Vista, and decided to upgrade back to XP. I put in my installation CD.

 

There's a CD here from an unknown publisher! Do you want to let it run? Yes. It's a Microsoft Windows product, just like you. You Know What The Hell It Is. (Yeah, it really did claim it couldn't find the publsiher).

 

Then I ran into Vista's most pervasive function so far: its blocking of anything it doesn't understand. You click install Windows XP, and are confronted with This program has been blocked due to its incompatibility with Windows Vista. Would you like to check for solutions online? Well SUCKED IN: There aren't any! Hah!

 

So, for the time being I'm stuck with this stupid, tricky, manipulative, subversive operating system which, rather than doing what I want it to do, does what it assumes I want it to do. I'm not sure enough in my computer-y abilities to try dual-booting XP and Vista, or just reformatting the hard drive: computers these days are being made to deal with Vista's many exentricities, which means that they often act in ways which XP wouldn't understand. Which is sad. I hope hope hope I can eventually return to what we might grudgingly call the pinnacle of Microsoft's technical programming, or else I'm all for trying Linux.

How many toenails do you have? Somewhere between nine and eleven. I think it varies.

What's your lucky number? 8.

What's a word you're fond of? At the moment? Paragon. And travesty.

Fly or swim? Fly.

Sink or swim? Swim.

Does pineapple belong on a pizza? On Ham and Pineapple (Hawaiian), yes. Any other pizza, only if it makes it tasty and delicious.

Do you sing when you're alone? Or even not alone? Sometimes in company, rarely alone..

What's a book that's within sight right now? Moya Simmons': The Boy who would Live Forever.

What's the last colour your toenails were painted? I once had a toenail painted black..

Ever sleepwalked? Sometimes when I'm really stressed or angry when I go to bed. I've also slept with my eyes open more than once.

Are you going to the work Christmas Party? Hah. You're funny.. 

 

And last but not least;

 

Are you excited about voting tomorrow? I'm going to copy Lani's answer here: "I'm interested to see how other people vote tomorrow."

Am I being sarcastic in my Blog title? Not really, no.

 

So I took the computer back to Dick Smith's like I said I would, and the bastardly traitor of a computer loaded five times in a row, perfectly, for the customer service woman. I think she thought I was either a liar or a lunatic. Nevermind.

 

The computer continued to play along for a further six days, to the point where I actually started to trust it, and put some programs back on it. No sooner, however, had I installed Office than...

...

BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH

...

..

.

Yeah. Unhappy. And it was past 5pm, so Acer support line was closed for the night. I tried again, today, and this time got on to a very helpful young man whose name started with a K, I think. Anyway, he told me to try a system restore.

 

"But", says I, "that's what the repair centre people did. It didn't work."

 

Just try it, says he. And so I do, and (of course) lose all my programs etc again. So, because I'm getting angry at this point, I don't even waste the time before putting all the programs back on it.

 

Before anyone says anything, it's not the programs causing the problem. Trust me - I've ruled that out. But hey presto, BSoD as I'm reinstalling FireFox.

 

Oh Acer!?

 

Yeah, so turns out the protocol is, if they can't fix it after three attempts, they replace it. Which is nice - I didn't even have to mention replacement; the guy told me of his own accord. And I'm perfectly happy to keep going on Old Faithful (the desktop) for a while, so it's no big deal that they're going to take away my computer Again.

 

Win-win scenario, methinks. Either they actually fix the damned thing, or I get a new computer. Yay me.

So... I've officially had the worst time ever with my computer.

 

First it broke. Wouldn't load Windwos, or when it did, it gave me the blue-followed-by-black-followed-by-blue-again screen of Death at a random and unspecified time. Sometimes when I wasn't even so much as touching the computer! This is a Bad Thing in a less than 12 month old computer.

 

So. I sent it away to get fixed (down to Flemington) and brought Old Faithful out of the closet. Lucky for me I didn't sell the old computer last year, methinks. And, just today, my laptop comes back to me.

 

First impression: Crap. The hard drive has been wiped, and it's a very, very lucky thing I backed up most of my files, because they're all gone. But that's okay. All I need do is download a few programs, re-install Office and I'll be functionally back on my feet. That's not a problem. Admittedly, AVG took way too long to download, but that's okay. It's not a problem. Oh, and I have a new keyboard? What's with that? Maybe they were being generous.

 

 

...

 

BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH!

 

Yeah, so they didn't fix my computer. It's still got the same problem, only slightly more frequently than before. It kills itself at random moments. They did nothing.

 

I'm going back to Dick Smith's tomorrow to get the computer replaced. I know it's not their fault, but I'm desparate, I'm a uni student and I cannot function without a computer (with apologies to my desktop, who has been very good to me in this difficult period).

 

I feel like crap.

There is a girl wandering around town lately, who sometimes dresses as Vincent Valentine.

Good. God.

 

 

(New comic coming soon - watch this Space)

This is also in the photo album - go look. The idea came to me while on the trip to Goodooga: I had to wait 'til I got back to make it on my computer. 

Okay, the comic didn't work. Maybe someone (I'm looking at you, Fillet) can explain to me how to add pictures properly in a Blog...?

 

I'll add it to an album instead; you can look at it there. It's called Cityscape.

One day, sometime in the future, I will write a blog. It might be the next chapter of the Night After Christmas, or it may be a rant (I have much worth ranting about), or I might yet inform the general viewing public about the recent events in my life, some of which have been eventfully eventful, as Nathan might say.

 

Or, I might write something funny, like giving Maisy and Tugelbert another brief moment of sunlight, or I could continue my shopper stereotypes list. That might be redundant by now.

 

One day.

I present my adaptation of the Australian Nokia 6110 ad. Not as good if you haven't seen the original, of course.

Chapter Six - Exchange

He turned off into a quiet cul-de-sac, and parked the sleigh at the top of the street. He stepped out and straightened his jacket, checking his hair in the reflection from one of the glass horses. Straight in and out, he told himself. No distractions. No delays. No… wasting time. He looked along the street, at the house he was about to visit. All of the curtains on the top storey windows were still drawn; hopefully that meant the family was still asleep.

He set off down the street. Nobody was out walking here at least, though he suspected that in this neighbourhood nobody would pay him much attention. People would be more interested in their own business. He stopped for a moment, bent down and fished a few small stone fragments from the pavers under the slush-covered street.

Quickly checking to see that he was still not being watched, he crossed the lawn speckled with snowmelt, and found the side entrance of the house. Easing the side gate open, he sidled through and carefully shut it behind him.

-----

Kitty woke up, blinking her eyes. She rolled over slowly and looked at her clock, then slumped back beneath her quilt, sleepily wondering what had woken her so early. Curling into a ball, she buried her head in a pillow and tried to go back to sleep.

Something hard tapped against her window. Kitty’s eyes snapped open, and she sat up, rubbing her hair. Tap, tap. Gathering the quilt around her like a robe, she shuffled to the window and cautiously drew back the curtains. There was nothing there. Maybe a bird had hit the window, or maybe it had been the sound of icicles breaking from the roof. She looked down, and suddenly was wide awake.

Dean was standing in the garden, grinning up at her! Kitty’s heart felt like it leapt into her throat. He waved when he saw her, then pointed at the door. Kitty dropped the quilt and padded as silently as she could down stairs to the kitchen, where she carefully unlocked the back door and ushered Dean inside, locking the door again behind him.

She stood back, and looked Dean up and down, trying to hide her excitement. Tall as he was, he stood a full head above her, his broad shoulders and his height making him look incredibly manly. He was grinning his boyish grin, which always disarmed her in an instant.

"You’re early," she said tenderly, wrapping her arms around his chest and looking up into his dark eyes. She resisted the urge just to kiss him there and then.

"Can’t be that early, if you’re awake," he replied quietly, and looked around the kitchen. "Should we go up to your room?"

Kitty nodded, and took his hand, practically dragging him up the stairs. She turned and put a finger to his lips as she passed her parents’ bedroom, pointing at the door. Dean nodded mutely and followed her to the end of the hall, and into her room.

"So," Dean said, noticing the quilt as Kitty closed the door behind them, "you sleep on the floor now? That’s a new one for you."

"Oh ha ha." Kitty sat back down at the head of her bed, crossing her legs. "And what is Junior Claus doing here so early? Christmas is over, school’s not back yet; you should still be in bed." She arched an eyebrow.

Dean reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a square, paper-wrapped bundle, which he passed to Kitty. "Straight to business then," she said calmly.

"I can’t stay long. They’re expecting me at the factory soon."

"Honestly," Kitty drawled, turning the package over in her hands, "why do you keep working there? It takes up so much of your time; you almost never come out with us anymore, even when you’re staying with your dad."

Dean shrugged and sat down next to her. Kitty shifted closer to him. "I’m good at it," he said simply.

"Yeah, well, you’re good at lots of things." She slid the package under her pillows, and casually placed her hand on Dean’s leg.

Dean nodded at the pillows. "Aren’t you going to check that?"

Kitty smiled, shuffling closer to him. "I trust you," she said sweetly, and leaned in toward him and kissed him on the cheek. "Why not stay here, just for a little while?"

He faced her, so that their noses were almost touching. "The last time I stayed here ‘just for a little while,’ " he said softly, "I ended up three hours late getting home."

Kitty managed to grab Dean’s hand as he stood up. "And was that such a bad thing? Mum and dad won’t be awake for hours yet," she said, looking up at him. "Can’t the elves manage without you?"

Dean took her hands, and placed them in her lap. "The chief of staff will want to know why I’m late. She’s not someone you want to cross. Look, I should go." He headed for the door.

"So lie."

Dean hesitated, his hand on the doorknob.

"Come on, you can afford not to be on time for once in your life. It won’t hurt." Kitty watched as Dean sighed, shaking his head.

"Oh what the hell," he said, turning back to her.

Now, people get linked to my Space from bizarre sites and searches all the time. That's nothing new, and it's definitely not unique to me. For months after X-MEN III came out and I reviewed it, I was getting hits from Google more than daily about it. Fillet has even made a list of random searches, many from baidu, that wind up at his Live Space. So far, I've managed to avoid doing the same kind of thing, but this one just now takes the cake.

 

 

Why do I have the taste of sulpher (sic) in my mouth when I cough?

 

Go on. Click it, if you didn't already. Here's the link if you'd like. Not only do I show up on the site, but I'm number one. Look: there I am, right at the tip-top of Ask.com's results page. This one has to be about the most random search that has ever landed someone on a Space, ever. Ever.

 

So someone out there has demon-breath, and they don't know why. Which raises a few questions, at the top of which would have to be, "How do you know what sulphur tastes like?"

 

Like I said: Not sure I really want to know... Might pay to go for one of these sometime soon.

 

 

In other news, it's Friday the 13th today! Black Friday, and I've given up on linkaging every second word so if you want to know the origins of the date you'll have to go find them for yourself. And what bad, evil things happened to Azukar this bad, evil day, you ask?

If a tree falls in the forest, and there's nobody there to hear it, does it make a sound?

 

Positivist: "Yes: ker-thump! Trees hitting the ground do tend to make noise."

 

Interpretivist: "No, it would take a person to comprehend the sound and attribute it to the tree."

 

Critical theorist: "What did the tree think?"

 

Yes, this is the title of my essay on epistemological models. If you don't know what that means,   look   them   up   here.

   Maisy smiled as the waiter set down her coffee. Across from her, Tugelbert tapped his pen on the table edge, staring blankly at the homework sheet between them.

   “You know,” he said darkly, “I would happily risk any kind of time travel paradox if I could go back in time and kill Shakespeare before he got to write a single play.”

   Maisy tipped her head to one side, spooning sugar into her cup. “And leave all our English teachers with nothing to obsess over? Maybe we’ll be thankful for it one day.”

   “Mhm. Promise you’ll put me in a straightjacket if I ever one day start actually appreciating this rubbish.”

   Maisy opened her mouth to reply, but a loud shout from the street stopped her. She looked out the window.

   A crowd of school kids, all mismatched clothes and dyed hair and old backpacks, came past the café, most talking at the top of their voices. Maisy and Tugelbert watched them pass by without saying a word.

   When the last one had passed, Tug put down his cup and said, “Public school kids, hey…”

   Maisy stirred her coffee. “Definition of a self-fulfilling prophecy, that.”

   “What is?”

   “Well, Howard doesn’t believe in public enterprise, he thinks it’s inefficient and not worthwhile. So he doesn’t public education the funding it needs, which means it becomes inefficient and, almost, not worthwhile.”

   “Why can’t public schools just do their own fundraising?”

   “There’s a term for schools that raise their own funding. They’re called private schools.”

   Tugelbert shrugged, and went back to dissecting Shakespeare.

Yeah, so, this whole "internet" thing isn't working out in the Bx household, and we don't know why. Which is why all of you, my devoted fans, have been deprived of my presence these past few days. Weeks, even. But we've still got some tricks to try and, if they work, I'll be back online before you can say "Azukar's got a whole lot of work this semester and I mean really got a whole lot of work what with EER409 and the other compressed subjects because they're going on prac in 9 weeks' time so he probably won't be online much anyway but we can live in hope".

 

If not... Well, there's two new Night After Christmas chapters rearing to go, and two Maisy and Tugelbert vignettes, so at the least I might be able to drag my sorry thumbdrive down here and give you something to tide you over until I come back.

Chapter Four - Frost and Fire
December 26

"Thanks for the lift, Jack."

"Don’t mention it Charlie," Jack Frost replied, hoping he was facing the right way. If he concentrated, he could see where an occasional snowflake landed on the figure of the invisible person, or where the faintest of footprints appeared on the ground. Anyone walking past would have thought he was alone in the park. "There was no point you walking in this kind of weather anyway." Behind Jack, his horse snorted quietly.

"Well, there are some downsides to meeting at the North Pole. If I may ask, how do you feel about this new plan?"

Jack caught a snowflake on his outstretched hand, and regarded it solemnly. "It is difficult to say. We may lose out no matter how it resolves itself, and yet, it might be our best option."

"I’ll make sure we get the full approval of the Invisible Friends. We should be able to keep things under control."

"We will need the assistance, I’m sure. I think I will meet with Santa Claus early tomorrow."

"Sounds good to me; there’s a lot to figure out before we start. Anyway, I’ll let you go. Thanks again for the lift."

Jack took a step back. In front of him, the space between two of the tall stone pillars that dotted the park flared and became a portal. There was a brief ripple as Charlie passed through, then it went dark again.

Jack turned and placed a hand on the flank of the horse, which shivered, and crumbled into a mound of snow. He walked onward into the darkness of the park. A moment later, he had vanished.

-----

A high note rang out in the silent darkness, clear as a bell. It went on, and was joined by others, forming a beautiful melody which rose and fell in slow waves. A shape appeared in the darkness, and became an elemental, her long hair draped around her body like a shroud. Her head was bowed as she walked forward, arms held by her sides.

Four other elementals appeared in the darkness of the clearing. They formed a square around the first, who was standing perfectly still. Persephone watched as, in unison, they began dancing around the unmoving central figure, ducking and weaving in a wide circle. As the tempo slowly increased, other dancers appeared, creating a swirling mass of moving bodies in which patterns formed and broke like a kaleidoscope. Arcs of light flew from their fingertips toward the centre of the circle and the motionless elemental, where they spun gently around her.

Persephone smiled wistfully and leaned against a tree, listening to the music wafting through the forest and watching the whirling dancers. A few early autumn leaves drifted down from the trees, spiralling to the ground. Around the edge of the clearing, she could just make out other shadowy figures watching the dance.

A snowflake landed on her shoulder. She turned, and came face to face with Jack Frost.

"Well hello there," she said, holding out her arms. Jack Frost took her hands in his, leaned forward and kissed her.

"Good evening my dear," he said, after breaking away. "I thought you might come here."

"I thought you would be another hour or so. It’s a beautiful dance tonight."

"Which dance are they performing?"

Persephone and Jack turned to the dancers. "It’s a mourning," she replied with a hint of sadness. As they watched, the outermost dancers lay down in a broad ring. The middle figure still had not moved. The streamers of light almost encased her. "They’re foretelling their death."

Jack sighed. "Again? Why are they not healing?"

"Healings cannot keep up anymore," said Persephone, wrapping her arm around his. "You should come here more often and see; the damage is growing so fast…"

"You know the elementals prefer that I do not come here too often. Winter has little place here, hence why they favour your company."

"Some know better than that. They would be comforted knowing that you sympathise with them."

Jack nodded. "I do sympathise. How is the season progressing?"

"I’ve decided to be more adventurous this year. I’ll do some more tropical storms, and start some new droughts. It should give you some ideas for when winter comes around. How did the meeting go?"

"Not very well. The Easter Bunny pushed his manifestation plan again. I can’t help but fear he is going to overreact and try something ill-conceived if we can’t resolve the problem ourselves. And Lavender, it seems, has not inherited much of her mother’s intelligence."

"That’s rather a harsh thing to say. She’s only young, and new to the business. Give her some time, at least."

"Time is what we are running out of, sadly."

"No-one has proposed a good plan yet?"

Jack’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes," he said, "and no. The ghost has the outline of a possible plan, but we still need to discuss the specifics. I am going to meet Santa Claus tomorrow to talk it over with him."

"Shall we go home then? You can tell me more on the way; the dance does get depressing after a while."

The pair turned, and vanished into the darkness, while behind them the sorrowful dance spiralled onward among the falling leaves.

Time passed.

-----
Addendum:
My mum has a Puma brand polo shirt, upon which the washing instructions read exactly thus:
"Wash this when dirty".
Instructions obviously designed with today's sport fanatic in mind.

Chapter Three - Black and White
December 26

Lavender stepped out into the snow, locking the door behind her. Far off, the clock tower was chiming midnight. The cold hit like a knife.

Brook and Crystal were shivering at the side of the icy road, scanning up and down. "Where is she?" Brook asked, her teeth chattering in the cold. Treading carefully in her heels, Lavender squeezed between the girls to keep warm. "She should be here by now."

"Come on Deana… Come on…" Crystal called out softly into the snow. "She said midnight, right Lav?"

Lavender nodded mutely. Even with her thick fur coat, the cold went straight to the bone.

The girls shivered and waited. "What are we even going out tonight for?" Crystal chattered. "We’ll freeze to death first."

"We won’t get another chance before the end of the year, and it should be big," Lavender replied.

Suddenly, a bright glow appeared through the mist. The sleigh that pulled up on the road beside them was jet black, very sleek, and very shiny. The glass horse snorted and shook its shining black mane. Crystal gasped as the door opened and Deana stepped out and grinned at them.

"Crystal, Lavender, Brook, dahlings," she said in a put-on posh voice. "So good to see you all tonight." She was interrupted by the girls hurrying over and wrapping her in a tight group hug. "Deana!" Brook practically squeaked. "You got it! You bought it after all!"

"Geez, how did you get your mum to lend you the money?" Lavender looked over Deana’s shoulder to the inside of the sleigh. The seats had leather trims! And there was a pair of giant fluffy dice on the front!

Deana grinned her wide grin. "Oh, I just put on my halo and reminded her of what a good girl I am," she said innocently. "You know, such a hard studier at university, and all that."

"Oh," Crystal replied with a smile. "I bet you even batted your eyelashes at her and gave her the puppy-dog eyes."

"Oh no, is that what you think of me? Puppy-dog eyes are for my dad, silly. He can’t stand to see his little girl upset. So, are we all ready? I’m freezing!"

"Let’s go!" said Lavender. "Shotgun front!"

The four girls piled into the sleigh, running their hands over the trims and seats. "Very posh, De," Brook said, as Deana gently tapped the reins and the glass horse lumbered into a trot.

"I guess," Lavender said after a few minutes, "that the Pole isn’t the best place to show this thing off."

Deana peered into the snow, the sleigh barely crawling along. Shops appeared in the darkness like icebergs, only to vanish again. The only light came from the street lamps, and the cool blue glow of the horse. "Too bad it’s not a flying model, we could take it down to your parents’ place and really test her out."

Lavender looked around. Snow was flowing around the invisible bubble over the top of the sleigh. Crystal was reclining in the back with her legs crossed and her handbag in her lap. She was running a finger along the silver trim. "What do you want to call her?"

Brook gasped. "That’s right! Does it have a name?"

"Do we really have to name the sleigh?"

"Of course you do!"

Crystal looked up. "You could just name the horse. I’m glad you got the glass one; a metal horse would’ve looked cheap."

"No expenses spared for De’s first sleigh," Lavender added.

"It’ll be my last if I crash it in this bloody weather," Deana said distractedly. "Oh, listen: we’re almost there."

Lavender strained to hear. There was a chatter of voices ahead, and the low rhythmic sound of music.

They turned a corner, and saw the club. Light from the flashing sign above the doorway illuminated a line of people, all shivering and stamping their feet in the snow. Deana slowed the sleigh down as they passed along the queue, scanning the waiting people. "There’re a lot of fairies out tonight," Crystal remarked. "Might see someone there you like Lav," she continued, turning to Lavender with a wink. Lavender scowled.

"Lots of elves, too," Brook added. "Probably all came from Santa’s factories to kick-start their holiday month. I swear he works them to the bone."

"Shush," said Deana, still squinting ahead. "Look for somewhere I can park."

Minutes later, the girls stood at the head of the queue. The people waiting in line behind the red rope eyed Lavender warily as she approached the massive bouncer.

"Evening Barry," she said with a charming smile.

"Oh, Tooth Fairy. Good to see you tonight; please, come right through." Barry reached over and unhooked the rope. Lavender did not take her eyes off him as she stood aside and the girls stepped demurely onto the carpet.

"Thank you Barry," she said in the same sweet tone, and the four girls stepped into the club, leaving the rest of the partygoers in the cold.

"You go girl!" Deana whispered as the walked down the short hall to the glass doors. The muted pulse of the music seemed to be coming up through the floor.

A fairy in a top hat and tails was standing near the doors. "Take your coats, ladies?" he asked. The girls shrugged off their coats and handed them over. He handed Brook a ticket with a smile, then pressed a button on the wall.

The doors slid open, and the room exploded into sound and light. Lavender ran to the railing and looked down over the mass of people dancing below. No wonder there was a line up, she thought. The place was packed!

"It’s packed!" Crystal shouted to be heard above the music, looking around.

"Let’s get a drink and find somewhere to sit!"

"No, let’s dance!" Brook linked arms with Lavender and Crystal and headed for the stairs.

"Can’t we warm up first?" Deana sighed as she followed the other girls down into the pit.

They bought drinks, and navigated their way around the dancers to a couch under the balcony.

"Yuck, it’s so smoky over here," Crystal waved a hand through the smoke haze as she sat down.

"It’s not going to get any better my dear," said Brook, "we didn’t bring gas masks."

"How’s you mum these days?" Deana asked Lavender, as the other two chatted away.

Lavender nodded. "She’s not bad. I’ve taken on a third of the tooth rounds, mostly in the cities where it’s so much busier. Me and dad are doing almost all of the paperwork, between us, so she can rest more while she’s at home."

"But she’s recovering, at least?"

Lavender looked wretched. Deana slid her hands across the table and held Lavender’s. "Don’t worry, she’ll be fine. It’ll take more than a little knock like that to shake the Tooth Fairy. Senior, I mean."

"I know, I know. The worst part is the doctors are telling her she needs to rest more, and you know her: try and tell her she’s not as young as she used to be and she just has to prove you wrong."

Crystal put an arm around Lavender’s shoulder. "Lav, come on, you heard it. No kid is going to put your mother out of action for long. Hah, I bet she’ll be out of bed soon and be back down to that kid’s house to take all the rest of his teeth!"

"Sounds like mum to me. Anyway, enough about bad news." She looked over at Crystal, and stifled a laugh. "Crys, the wind! It blew out your fringe!"

"Oh geez," Crystal groaned, trying to look up at her own hair. "Look, I’ll just go fix it. Don’t go anywhere, okay? Mind my bag."

Crystal hurried off toward the bathrooms. Brook turned back to the table and said, "You know, I could have sworn she wanted her hair to look like that."

Lavender casually looked around the room. There were a lot of fairies in the club. A group was dancing near the edge of the floor; wings huddled protectively close to their bodies. A pair of bogeymen dancing near the middle of the floor stood out like hairy icebergs, standing head and shoulders above the crowd. There were even elementals, looking down on the dancers from the balcony.

When Crystal returned, she had a strange expression on her face. Lavender looked suspiciously at her as she sat down. "What’s that look for?" she asked.

Crystal put her fist in the middle of the table, palm up. She opened her hand for a fraction of a second, long enough for Lavender to see she was holding four off-white pills.

"Crystal! Where did you get those?" Deana looked scandalised.

"There’s someone over in the corner near the toilets."

"How did you pay for them? All your money is in your handbag."

Crystal clasped her hands. "Not all of it."

Brook looked at Crystal’s skirt and top. "You haven’t got any pockets."

"Well, I didn’t keep it anywhere that someone were going to go looking for it, did I?"

Deana kept looking at Crystal’s clasped hands. "But… I didn’t think you could get those anymore," she said quietly. Lavender looked around. The elves on the lounge next to them did not look like they would overhear. "Are they genuine?"

Crystal opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again as a pair of fairies walked past the table. "You can tell – these are manufactured. They’re real. We can sort out the cost later. Pinkies, ladies," she said, holding out her little finger.

"Crystal…"

"Oh come on Lav, you need to unwind. Your busy season is right around the corner; enjoy the holiday while you can."

Lavender sighed, and hooked her pinkie around Crystal’s. Brook and Deana joined the knot of fingers.

"Girls, remember," said Crystal. "Let’s none of us go home with any creepy men." She broke the tangle of fingers, and slid a pill across the table to each girl.

Lavender picked up her bottle in one hand, and her pill in the other. "Cheers," she said, raising the bottle. She delicately placed the pill on the tip of her tongue, and the room dissolved into colour and sound.

The following is a poem written by the moderately-famous Japanese artist Ukai Uchiyama in the mid '60s. The calligraphic print he made of it is, as far as I know, still on show in Kohn (Koln?), Germany.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Having read it, I can't help but feel that it loses something in translation.