Saturday, September 29, 2012
Client Book
9-29-12-Macarmua- Hi guys!!!! I absolutely love your blog. A friend of mine has a problem, and she could use your advice. Her parents have been divorced for 10 years (they are both re-married), and she lives with her mum, but she sees her dad every day. She talked to him a week ago, and later that same day, she was unable to reach him. After that, she talked to his father's girlfriend, who sounded mysterious. She hasn't talked or seen him since then, and she is getting worried. I really hope you can help. Thanks!______Yes!!! You are right about everything. I’m 15 and I live in Argentina. About my friends problem, she has tried to call him and his girlfriend every day for the past week (these happened two Thursdays ago), and they would´n answer. She even went to their house. She thinks something bad might have happened to him, but i keep telling her that she would have been told (she spends the weekends with him, and sees him every day). Well, I guess we’ll have to wait. Thanks anyway for trying. I’ll let you know if something new comes up. Bye!!!_____He runs his own business. That afternoon he had gone to a meeting, but my friend was told that everything had been all right. Her parents had divorced because they were young, but have a pretty good relationship. And, this is the first time he is missing. He never even goes on holiday without telling her first. I only know what she has told me, but I can’t be sure that there isn’t anything else. Hope this helps, and I really appreciate you are helping us.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Writing Journal
9-28-12:
Blackmail and English Essays:
Ok, the girls should be up in San Fransisco visiting the Chinese theater when they realize that Xue is there, visiting her family and telling them about the money and education she will receive when she gets her blackmail cut. She tells them she didn't want to blackmail, but Rifle tipped her off.
I'm gonna reveal this one slowly, over the corner of the weekend. Put lots of foreshadowing and shit in. Have fun, entertain, don't be racist!
Blackmail and English Essays:
Found 3 possible Chinese theaters. We have 2 hours to find her, or she'll post the pictures (Id didn't mention that yet). Getting a pictures of the theater for tumblr.
Asked for free deductions on the blog, spot on. I'm so clever :)
Blackmail and English Essays:
Ok, the girls should be up in San Fransisco visiting the Chinese theater when they realize that Xue is there, visiting her family and telling them about the money and education she will receive when she gets her blackmail cut. She tells them she didn't want to blackmail, but Rifle tipped her off.
I'm gonna reveal this one slowly, over the corner of the weekend. Put lots of foreshadowing and shit in. Have fun, entertain, don't be racist!
- My thinking behind this is that I have to keep it believable. It has to be convincing and throw tons of character development in, add plotlines and shit like that as an excuse for not deducing.
- Using 'A stress fracture that went untreated' as the disease that forced 'Me' to give up volleyball and sports for academics. At the same time I met AI, who was running Leadership council.
- I want to make my characters relatable, adapt everyday scenarios into real life. Something I need to do to prove my intelligence.
- REVEAL CHINESE CIRCUS THING SATURDAY NIGHT OR SUNDAY MORNING.
Blackmail and English Essays:
Found 3 possible Chinese theaters. We have 2 hours to find her, or she'll post the pictures (Id didn't mention that yet). Getting a pictures of the theater for tumblr.
- Told Still-holding-minas-tirith we lived in San Fransisco. (Me all my life). Told her I didn't realize it was so dangerous until I met CE. Think I'll use this as a metaphor for growing up and losing innocence.
- I think EVENTUALLY I will have CE have some kind of 'The Hound Of Baskervill" style freakout. But I should probably cement the whole "No emotions" thing first.
- Wrote the whole thing about how Xue got the information from Rifle.
- Just watched Mean Girls and considering having Rifle have a 'Burn Book' full of secrets.
- Slenderlock just told me the best thing-"Most people refuse to see reason- there’d have to be absolute proof, and even then they like to ignore it. But there will always be people out there who can see the truth- it’s about finding them."
- Ok, so now we know that Rifle knows what the fucks going on. He's clever, and keeps a well done appearance so no one suspects him. I hope to create a character(s), that are not only believable but can provide an outlet onto real life. They can be relatable and clever and snotty and human. Really human. A big theme I'm trying to make is that no one is unbreakable, and if you think you are, you haven't been tested yet. I think once people read my writing more they'll get a better vibe for what I write and be able to read it like it sounds in my head.
- Got first case. Girl in Argentina wants help finding her friends father. This should be good, I hope he's ok. :)
- No one appreciates my over enthusiasm that I have been asked to help find a missing person. So I said :"The game, bitch! Is on!"No one appreciates my weirdness........
- I'm so excited an honored that someone has come to ME asking me for advice. Consulting me. It makes me feel important to even smally help someone. :)
Asked for free deductions on the blog, spot on. I'm so clever :)
- Saw a great quote by an unknown person to cheer me up when I'm down: “The loneliest people are the kindest. The saddest people smile the brightest. The most damaged people are the wisest. All because they do not wish to see anyone else suffer the way they do.”This is only to true, you are the kindest.
10-6-12:
Have this idea for a great crime. Rifle should commit Arson. He should be whistling and have that sort of non-chilant Moriarty-ness about him. He should burn an old hotel. But not a well-known one.
- Making a story called "The ______ Letter". Like the 'Scarlet Letter' but with another color instead of scarlet.The Crimson Letter; maybe I should have a gold letter inside it. Or a clue from Rifle. Maybe an 'Alchemical Symbol'. Like a Green Lion or something. Sulfur symbol.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Tattoo Essays
Natalie Mark
Mr. May
English 3A
9-25-12
Mr. May
English 3A
9-25-12
Tattoo Counter Argument: No
As much as I believe that the opposing side would like nothing more than to be able to tattoo a big picture of Elmo on their arm at any young age, for what they mistakenly think is self expression but is actually rebellion. They believe that you should be able to get at tattoo under 18; and that's fine; but consider the risks. Consider what it will do to your body as you grow old? Your skin stretches and you become taller.Also, consider that what you think is cool or love now, you may not think is cool in 20-30 years.Your perspective is always changing, so how can you be sure you won't just get tired of it? As for self expression: there are so many more things you could do to feel more individual. You could get a piercing or a haircut.
There are far more, less permanent, options you could chose. So feel free to show pride; but think carefully first.
Natalie Mark
Mr. May
English 3A
9-25-12
Tattoo Paragraph-
I believe getting a tattoo at a young age is wrong because people don't fully consider the risks beforehand. For one, pain tolerance: Renne Kottenham, MD, Author of "Tattoo's-Are The A Smart Choice?". Quotes:"A tattoo's a long lasting puncture wound made in the skin. (2)" Ouch! Right? Sounds painful? Well, it's permanent. Also, Dr. Kottenham quotes:"......the (tattooing) machine moves the needle about 1/8 inch into you skin. (3)"But that's not the only reason, infection too. In the same article she quotes:"(By getting a tattoo) you may be putting yourself at risk for hepatitis or skin infection. (12)" She also says:"..........some people have allergic reactions to tattoo ink. (11)" And while some people may experience this, not everyone will. So I encourage you; Think carefully and clearly before getting that tattoo.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Blog Writing Drafts
9-29-12:
I don't know if I should even put this on the internet. Probably not, you know how things get around. But we feel sort of attached to our followers, we love teaching the most you can learn, and so we feel we owe you the truth. It's the reason our blog hasn't been to "deductive" lately. We've had a lot to do and a small amount of time to do it. And all the conflicting of everyday life seems to get in the way of everything we try to do. And as observant as we are, we can't just sit by and not talk about this. Because it bugs us, we have found something that we don't understand, and it scares us all very much. Even C, who never gets scared. It shows us the magnitude of what this might mean, and that even if we don't understand it, it can still happen.
So we get to the theatre, and we find Xue there. And she IMMEDIATELY bursts into tears. She explains everything to us. The usual-'She was desperate', 'She needed money', 'And that she wouldn't be coming back to school'. Ok, she gives us the flash drive and we are about to leave, when she told us something even worse.
We have this awful kid at our school. His names Rifle. He's an absolute asshole. Xue told us that Rifle was the one who convinced Xue to use the photos. That she found the flash drive and copied it because he told her to.
I absolutely hate writing this right now. We have no idea what to do. We're just kind sitting around doing nothing.
L.N.S
I don't know if I should even put this on the internet. Probably not, you know how things get around. But we feel sort of attached to our followers, we love teaching the most you can learn, and so we feel we owe you the truth. It's the reason our blog hasn't been to "deductive" lately. We've had a lot to do and a small amount of time to do it. And all the conflicting of everyday life seems to get in the way of everything we try to do. And as observant as we are, we can't just sit by and not talk about this. Because it bugs us, we have found something that we don't understand, and it scares us all very much. Even C, who never gets scared. It shows us the magnitude of what this might mean, and that even if we don't understand it, it can still happen.
So we get to the theatre, and we find Xue there. And she IMMEDIATELY bursts into tears. She explains everything to us. The usual-'She was desperate', 'She needed money', 'And that she wouldn't be coming back to school'. Ok, she gives us the flash drive and we are about to leave, when she told us something even worse.
We have this awful kid at our school. His names Rifle. He's an absolute asshole. Xue told us that Rifle was the one who convinced Xue to use the photos. That she found the flash drive and copied it because he told her to.
I absolutely hate writing this right now. We have no idea what to do. We're just kind sitting around doing nothing.
L.N.S
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Rattatouille Song
Les rêves des amoureux sont comm’(e) le bon vin
Ils donn(ent) de la joie ou bien du chagrin
Affaibli par la faim je suis malheureux
Volant en chemin tout ce que je peux
Car rien n’est gratuit dans la vie
L’espoir est un plat bien trop vite consommé
A sauter les repas je suis habitué
Un voleur solitaire est triste à nourrir
A un jeu si amer je n’peux réussir
Car rien n’est gratuit dans…
La vie… Jamais on ne me dira
Que la course aux étoiles; ça n’est pas pour moi
Laissez moi vous émerveiller et prendre mon en vol
Nous allons en fin nous régaler
La fêt(e) va enfin commencer
Sortez les bouteilles; finis les ennuis
Je dresse la table, de ma nouvell(e) vie
Je suis heureux à l’idée de ce nouveau destin
Une vie à me cacher et puis libre enfin
Le festin est sur mon chemin
Une vie à me cacher et puis libre enfin
Le festin est sur mon chemin
English:
Dreams are to lovers as wine is to friends
Carried through lifetimes, (and) spilled now and then
I am driven by hunger, so saddened to be
Thieving in darkness; I know you’re not pleased
But nothing worth eating is free
My hope is a banquet impatiently downed
Impossibly full, now I’ll probably drown
Many thieves’ lives are lonely with one mouth to feed
If giving means taking, I’ll never succeed
For nothing worth stealing is…
Free at last; won’t be undersold
Surviving isn’t living; won’t eat what I’m told
Let me free, I’ll astonish you; I’m planning to fly
I won’t let this party just pass me by
The banquet is now underway, so…
Bring out the bottles; a new tale has spun
In clearing this table, my new life’s begun
I am nervous, excited; (oh) just read the marquee!
A lifetime of hiding; I’m suddenly free!
My dinner is waiting for me
A lifetime of hiding; I’m suddenly free!
My dinner is waiting for me.
Ils donn(ent) de la joie ou bien du chagrin
Affaibli par la faim je suis malheureux
Volant en chemin tout ce que je peux
Car rien n’est gratuit dans la vie
L’espoir est un plat bien trop vite consommé
A sauter les repas je suis habitué
Un voleur solitaire est triste à nourrir
A un jeu si amer je n’peux réussir
Car rien n’est gratuit dans…
La vie… Jamais on ne me dira
Que la course aux étoiles; ça n’est pas pour moi
Laissez moi vous émerveiller et prendre mon en vol
Nous allons en fin nous régaler
La fêt(e) va enfin commencer
Sortez les bouteilles; finis les ennuis
Je dresse la table, de ma nouvell(e) vie
Je suis heureux à l’idée de ce nouveau destin
Une vie à me cacher et puis libre enfin
Le festin est sur mon chemin
Une vie à me cacher et puis libre enfin
Le festin est sur mon chemin
English:
Dreams are to lovers as wine is to friends
Carried through lifetimes, (and) spilled now and then
I am driven by hunger, so saddened to be
Thieving in darkness; I know you’re not pleased
But nothing worth eating is free
My hope is a banquet impatiently downed
Impossibly full, now I’ll probably drown
Many thieves’ lives are lonely with one mouth to feed
If giving means taking, I’ll never succeed
For nothing worth stealing is…
Free at last; won’t be undersold
Surviving isn’t living; won’t eat what I’m told
Let me free, I’ll astonish you; I’m planning to fly
I won’t let this party just pass me by
The banquet is now underway, so…
Bring out the bottles; a new tale has spun
In clearing this table, my new life’s begun
I am nervous, excited; (oh) just read the marquee!
A lifetime of hiding; I’m suddenly free!
My dinner is waiting for me
A lifetime of hiding; I’m suddenly free!
My dinner is waiting for me.
Scandal
Scandalous names:
Ok, here's what you've decided. Your fake name will be Victoria Rose.
But your website still needs a name:
Ok, here's what you've decided. Your fake name will be Victoria Rose.
But your website still needs a name:
- Mistress Victoria
Friday, September 21, 2012
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
The Help Book Report
Natalie Mark
Mr. May
English 3A
9-19-12
Mr. May
English 3A
9-19-12
The Help-World Of Reading Essay
I found the end of The Help very unsatisfying. It's not one of those endings where everything turns out good, it's one of those endings that leaves a big hole in the bottom of your heart. I find it interesting and very unique, it's a very bittersweet and somber ending. I feel really bad and sympathetic for Skeeter. I thought the ending was very, very, unpredictable. I thought everything was gonna be good and alright in the end, but it wasn't. I could have seen it coming from the beginning of the book but when it came up it was still really sad. The end wraps everything up perfectly, her mother dies and she gets her book. Like I said, bittersweet symphony.
The ending didn't seem to neat to me, I was wondering where her boyfriend went and if he would ever come back. I thought they had a really wonderful connection and it seemed sad when he left.
If I could change the ending, I wouldn't. First of all, why would I, it's not my book! Second, it's so perfect. It's just so brilliant. Everything in the book just fits together like a beautiful literary puzzle. And that doesn't happen often, so when it does, I don't think I have a right to change it. But if I could, I would have her mother still live, that would be a little predictable, but satisfying.
As for the main character, Skeeter goes from a popular, strange, aspiring writer, to become a wirier, a civil rights activist, and a better person. Character development is the most important thing in a story. It says-"Is this character mature?" And this book does nothing but that.
This book is a rare, rare, thing. I almost never see a book that is so cool, accurate, and relatable. Most books think they need a big plot and fancy characters and stuff like that. When all they need is good writing, and a good idea.
As for the main character, Skeeter goes from a popular, strange, aspiring writer, to become a wirier, a civil rights activist, and a better person. Character development is the most important thing in a story. It says-"Is this character mature?" And this book does nothing but that.
This book is a rare, rare, thing. I almost never see a book that is so cool, accurate, and relatable. Most books think they need a big plot and fancy characters and stuff like that. When all they need is good writing, and a good idea.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
The 99 Steps
{Opens at night, with a long shot of a hall and a green curtain blowing gently. As you come around the corner, you hear a woman scream:}
"Oh my god!.....The 99 steps!"
{Nancy and her friends prepare to go out for dinner; Nancy gets a telephone call from Georgia; or "George" as she likes to be called.}:
George:"How exciting, Nancy! Your dad really wants Liz and me to go to France with you?!"
Nancy:"Yeah, to help us solve a couple of mysteries. How bought' you girls have dinner with me tonight? It's to confidential for the phone."
George:"Come on! Give me some details!"
Nancy:"I'd tell you; but then I'd have to kill you....."
George:"Yeah well, then you'd have to catch yourself. So, ha! I'll be there soon."
Nancy:"Well, don't blow anything up when you get here! I don't want a mess!"
(Just as Nancy puts down the phone, she hears a crash and a scream. She runs upstairs, Hannah is standing there, a shattered tea tray at her feet. And on the window in front of her, is a Green Lion, spray painted on the window, positioned directly so it looks like it's eating the sun.
Nancy:"A Green Lion....eating the sun? Hannah, what could that mean?....Hannah?"
(Hannah had run off to answer the door. Standing there with a beautiful blue satin evening gown on that perfectly matched her sun blonde hair, was Nancy's friend Liz. Behind Liz is Nancy's other friend Georgia, or George. Wearing a cargo skirt and her usual cut off red tank top. And her long brown hair in a ponytail and her bangs cropped to one side. Unfortunately, Nancy, being distracted by the Green Lion on her window was still wearing her white dressing gown, and her messy bed-hair.)
George:"Thank god you dressed up! We're going to the fanciest restaurant in New York City and you are sitting her looking like you just got hit by Hurricane Katrina!"
Nancy:"I was distracted." Nancy quickly relays all the events since she got off the phone.
Liz:"Nancy, put your freaking mind at rest! Just calm down, probably just some graffiti?...."
Nancy:"Graffiti? On the 20th floor penthouse? No way, I think something else......"
George:"I know that face. It means we'll be late for dinner......"
Nancy:"No, I made my promise to Marie. We'll meet her at the Chateau Loire at 8:00 precisely. She has a case she may want to present to us. Very interesting, she calls it-The Mystery Of The 99 Steps. That should be fun."
Hannah:"Oh, Nancy, you and your mysteries! You can't just be content with drinking tea and watching TV can you?"
Nancy:"Depends what's on?..."
(Hannah smiles and rolls her eyes. She begins sweeping up her broken tea pot. Nancy then gets dressed in a beautiful periwinkle blue dress and a short, v-neck, black dress. And of course, she ties her signature white, French Knot, scarf. She put her hair up in a french bun, and added a cute, red, flower bow in her hair.
Liz offers her some of her lipstick-"Valeur"-she accepts, puts some on, and then places it in her bedroom table.)
George:"Where is Marie? Are we meeting her there?"
Nancy:"Yes, her family owns the restaurant. They have the most amazing food!"
(The girls get in Nancy's blue bug, car. On which the licence plate reads:"SLEUTH1". They get to the restaurant, and see a young, dark skinned, Marrie standing outside waiting for them. She is slightly older than Nancy, at 24 instead of Nancy, Liz, and George's ages of 20. She greets them with a warm Bonjour and welcomes them to their table.)
Marie:"Now that we are seated quietly Madamoiselle Drew, I must ask if you have heard of Ma Mere Monique? She has recently been troubled by dreams. Terrible dreams. I fear for her, I think every night about how scared and sad she must be, but I cannot help her. She refuses it! What should I do, I have come to you, and you alone. The police to not seem to understand the situation."
George:"Yeah, we've had that problem before......they only can solve murders if you point a big sign at the killer."
Nancy:"Pray tell us, what is her dream again?"
Marie:"She is standing at the top of steps, blindfolded, and falls down them. She lands in some kind of white powder......and she begins coughing as she finds she is sinking in it."
Nancy:"Ok then, continue, tell us more?"
Marie:"Oui! We all agree, you perhaps know of our family's recent investment in Mousieur Blanc's factory for the makeup Valeur-"
Liz:"I love that makeup!"
Marie:"-Anyway. We recently bought half the company-much to Pappa's objection. But what are we to do! She is the face of the company! The woman of France! We will go to ruins if she cannot be helped! Please Madmoiselle Drew, I hope that you can help?"
Nancy:"Tell me, does your Mother use any prescription drugs? Forgive me, but does she have a history of this?"
Marie:"Never! My mother has a severe allergy to Barbiturates and any other things like that."
George:"What about trauma? Or, excuse me, any physical injury? A concussion, maybe?"(George is a medical student)
Marie:"Never. Ma Mere has always been as careful as a dove. She would never put herself in danger so close to the deals date!"
Nancy:"I'm sure she wouldn't. But we must make sure. To rule out the wrong we must first rule out the impossible, it moves us closer to the truth."
Marie:"Spoken like a French-Woman! Etre fort!"
Nancy:"Before we order I must ask. Do you by any chance know the meaning of a "Green Lion"? Perhaps a symbol of a Green Lion eating the sun?"
Marie:"Comment a'llez vous? It is strange to me? What does it mean?"
(Nancy tells Marie of the graffiti on the wall. She still does not understand.)
Marie:"Lion vert? Domage....desole'."
Liz:"Ah well, it probably doesn't matter! Probably just one of the amusing upper-tennants tricks on you....I wouldn't think anything of it!"
Marie:"Ah yes! Garcon! Voila' Garcon!"
(The waiter aproaches the table. He is tall with thin, long arms, and skinny, straight legs. He looks very much to be French, and holds himself as such. They each order very delicious French meals and continue their discussion. Eventually coming to the conclusion that the Green Lion was a trick, played by the window washers.)
(The waiter comes back with the food. But there appears to be something strange on Nancy's plate......a small letter, and on it, written in ink with a steady hand, read):
Stay out of France.
Mr.9
Marie:"What does it say, Nancy?"
Nancy:"Stay out of France. Mr. 9"
Liz:"How strange! I will call the manager! GERANT'!"
(The manager-understanding the serious situation-rushed over at once.)
Marie:"Monsier Gernat, who was that man?"
Manager:"Who?"
Marie:"The waiter who just delivered our food to us?"
Manager:"Zut! He does not work for me! I have never seen him before in my life! Etranger'!"
George:"Nancy, do you think that man could have been Mr 9?"
Nancy:"I don't know....We'll have to see...."
(This was indeed very disturbing to Nancy. If someone was so eager to keep her away from France, who knows what else they might do!)
(After their scary experience with the waiter Nancy drove Liz and George home, and dropped Marie off at her hotel.)
(Nancy was driving home peacefully when she noticed a man, about as tall and as skinny as the waiter that evening. Clutching a lampost with all his strength, slowly sliding down it. Nancy's first instinct was to help the man of course, but she was still cautious from the letter, so she locked her doors and kept on driving.)
(As soon as she had reached the corner of the street the man jumped out in front of the car! Nancy slammed on the breaks just before she would have hit him. She heard the man let out a groan and say:"Help me, I'm sick!":But she stayed in her car, cautious, until she sped away to her apartment. Yep, Nancy Drew hit and run......whats next?)
(Nancy arrives at her penthouse to find Hannah in the hallway in histerics):"There's someone in the flat Miss Drew!"
(Nancy slowly opens the door and pulls out her ever handy flashlight, shining it at all the walls. The lights are off but there is a distinct noise coming from the bedroom, a sort of stomping noise, like things are being thrown about.)
(Nancy rounds the corner to her bedroom and finds a man, looking just like the waiter at the restaurant, sifting through her bedroom tables. As soon as Nancy's flashlight is visible from the room, the man lunges at Nancy, knocking over a dresser and a lamp. She runs quickly out of the room and hides behind a the kirchen corner. She can see the mans flashlight and his dark eyes peering around. As soon as he rounds Nancys corner she punches him really hard across the face. He falls over, clutching his broken nose in pain.)
(Over an hour has passed since the attempted robbery and Mr 9 had been taken into police custody for questioning.)
(It appeared that the only thing missing was the lipstick that Liz had given Nancy. It had been taken by Mr 9, but quickly returned by police.)
(Nancy got very little sleep that night, and was so tired in the morning she couldn't even drive to the airport, she had to take a cab. The flight was very nice, but she to has a strange dream about the 99 steps.....)
(When they land in Paris-much to Nancy's regret-Liz forces them to tour the Valeur factory, Nancy see's a opportunity to sleuth around the factory.)
(Upon arriving at the factory Nancy notices a strange, conveyor belt moving a thin, white, powder that looked like flour, but had a strange sparkle to it, pouring into the lipstick mixture.)
(Nancy sees some steps leading down and decides to investigate, dragging Liz and George with her. While sluthing down the stairs a woman, short and thin, runs up the stairs wearing a white lab coat. She knocks George down while running past, Nancy's cheeck gets cut by the wall, and Liz's arm gets broken.)
(Later, at the hotel, Liz's arm is in a sling and Nancy's cheek is bandaged. Nancy suspects a connection between Mr White's lipstick plant and the strange dreams.
"Oh my god!.....The 99 steps!"
{Nancy and her friends prepare to go out for dinner; Nancy gets a telephone call from Georgia; or "George" as she likes to be called.}:
George:"How exciting, Nancy! Your dad really wants Liz and me to go to France with you?!"
Nancy:"Yeah, to help us solve a couple of mysteries. How bought' you girls have dinner with me tonight? It's to confidential for the phone."
George:"Come on! Give me some details!"
Nancy:"I'd tell you; but then I'd have to kill you....."
George:"Yeah well, then you'd have to catch yourself. So, ha! I'll be there soon."
Nancy:"Well, don't blow anything up when you get here! I don't want a mess!"
(Just as Nancy puts down the phone, she hears a crash and a scream. She runs upstairs, Hannah is standing there, a shattered tea tray at her feet. And on the window in front of her, is a Green Lion, spray painted on the window, positioned directly so it looks like it's eating the sun.
Nancy:"A Green Lion....eating the sun? Hannah, what could that mean?....Hannah?"
(Hannah had run off to answer the door. Standing there with a beautiful blue satin evening gown on that perfectly matched her sun blonde hair, was Nancy's friend Liz. Behind Liz is Nancy's other friend Georgia, or George. Wearing a cargo skirt and her usual cut off red tank top. And her long brown hair in a ponytail and her bangs cropped to one side. Unfortunately, Nancy, being distracted by the Green Lion on her window was still wearing her white dressing gown, and her messy bed-hair.)
George:"Thank god you dressed up! We're going to the fanciest restaurant in New York City and you are sitting her looking like you just got hit by Hurricane Katrina!"
Nancy:"I was distracted." Nancy quickly relays all the events since she got off the phone.
Liz:"Nancy, put your freaking mind at rest! Just calm down, probably just some graffiti?...."
Nancy:"Graffiti? On the 20th floor penthouse? No way, I think something else......"
George:"I know that face. It means we'll be late for dinner......"
Nancy:"No, I made my promise to Marie. We'll meet her at the Chateau Loire at 8:00 precisely. She has a case she may want to present to us. Very interesting, she calls it-The Mystery Of The 99 Steps. That should be fun."
Hannah:"Oh, Nancy, you and your mysteries! You can't just be content with drinking tea and watching TV can you?"
Nancy:"Depends what's on?..."
(Hannah smiles and rolls her eyes. She begins sweeping up her broken tea pot. Nancy then gets dressed in a beautiful periwinkle blue dress and a short, v-neck, black dress. And of course, she ties her signature white, French Knot, scarf. She put her hair up in a french bun, and added a cute, red, flower bow in her hair.
Liz offers her some of her lipstick-"Valeur"-she accepts, puts some on, and then places it in her bedroom table.)
George:"Where is Marie? Are we meeting her there?"
Nancy:"Yes, her family owns the restaurant. They have the most amazing food!"
(The girls get in Nancy's blue bug, car. On which the licence plate reads:"SLEUTH1". They get to the restaurant, and see a young, dark skinned, Marrie standing outside waiting for them. She is slightly older than Nancy, at 24 instead of Nancy, Liz, and George's ages of 20. She greets them with a warm Bonjour and welcomes them to their table.)
Marie:"Now that we are seated quietly Madamoiselle Drew, I must ask if you have heard of Ma Mere Monique? She has recently been troubled by dreams. Terrible dreams. I fear for her, I think every night about how scared and sad she must be, but I cannot help her. She refuses it! What should I do, I have come to you, and you alone. The police to not seem to understand the situation."
George:"Yeah, we've had that problem before......they only can solve murders if you point a big sign at the killer."
Nancy:"Pray tell us, what is her dream again?"
Marie:"She is standing at the top of steps, blindfolded, and falls down them. She lands in some kind of white powder......and she begins coughing as she finds she is sinking in it."
Nancy:"Ok then, continue, tell us more?"
Marie:"Oui! We all agree, you perhaps know of our family's recent investment in Mousieur Blanc's factory for the makeup Valeur-"
Liz:"I love that makeup!"
Marie:"-Anyway. We recently bought half the company-much to Pappa's objection. But what are we to do! She is the face of the company! The woman of France! We will go to ruins if she cannot be helped! Please Madmoiselle Drew, I hope that you can help?"
Nancy:"Tell me, does your Mother use any prescription drugs? Forgive me, but does she have a history of this?"
Marie:"Never! My mother has a severe allergy to Barbiturates and any other things like that."
George:"What about trauma? Or, excuse me, any physical injury? A concussion, maybe?"(George is a medical student)
Marie:"Never. Ma Mere has always been as careful as a dove. She would never put herself in danger so close to the deals date!"
Nancy:"I'm sure she wouldn't. But we must make sure. To rule out the wrong we must first rule out the impossible, it moves us closer to the truth."
Marie:"Spoken like a French-Woman! Etre fort!"
Nancy:"Before we order I must ask. Do you by any chance know the meaning of a "Green Lion"? Perhaps a symbol of a Green Lion eating the sun?"
Marie:"Comment a'llez vous? It is strange to me? What does it mean?"
(Nancy tells Marie of the graffiti on the wall. She still does not understand.)
Marie:"Lion vert? Domage....desole'."
Liz:"Ah well, it probably doesn't matter! Probably just one of the amusing upper-tennants tricks on you....I wouldn't think anything of it!"
Marie:"Ah yes! Garcon! Voila' Garcon!"
(The waiter aproaches the table. He is tall with thin, long arms, and skinny, straight legs. He looks very much to be French, and holds himself as such. They each order very delicious French meals and continue their discussion. Eventually coming to the conclusion that the Green Lion was a trick, played by the window washers.)
(The waiter comes back with the food. But there appears to be something strange on Nancy's plate......a small letter, and on it, written in ink with a steady hand, read):
Stay out of France.
Mr.9
Marie:"What does it say, Nancy?"
Nancy:"Stay out of France. Mr. 9"
Liz:"How strange! I will call the manager! GERANT'!"
(The manager-understanding the serious situation-rushed over at once.)
Marie:"Monsier Gernat, who was that man?"
Manager:"Who?"
Marie:"The waiter who just delivered our food to us?"
Manager:"Zut! He does not work for me! I have never seen him before in my life! Etranger'!"
George:"Nancy, do you think that man could have been Mr 9?"
Nancy:"I don't know....We'll have to see...."
(This was indeed very disturbing to Nancy. If someone was so eager to keep her away from France, who knows what else they might do!)
(After their scary experience with the waiter Nancy drove Liz and George home, and dropped Marie off at her hotel.)
(Nancy was driving home peacefully when she noticed a man, about as tall and as skinny as the waiter that evening. Clutching a lampost with all his strength, slowly sliding down it. Nancy's first instinct was to help the man of course, but she was still cautious from the letter, so she locked her doors and kept on driving.)
(As soon as she had reached the corner of the street the man jumped out in front of the car! Nancy slammed on the breaks just before she would have hit him. She heard the man let out a groan and say:"Help me, I'm sick!":But she stayed in her car, cautious, until she sped away to her apartment. Yep, Nancy Drew hit and run......whats next?)
(Nancy arrives at her penthouse to find Hannah in the hallway in histerics):"There's someone in the flat Miss Drew!"
(Nancy slowly opens the door and pulls out her ever handy flashlight, shining it at all the walls. The lights are off but there is a distinct noise coming from the bedroom, a sort of stomping noise, like things are being thrown about.)
(Nancy rounds the corner to her bedroom and finds a man, looking just like the waiter at the restaurant, sifting through her bedroom tables. As soon as Nancy's flashlight is visible from the room, the man lunges at Nancy, knocking over a dresser and a lamp. She runs quickly out of the room and hides behind a the kirchen corner. She can see the mans flashlight and his dark eyes peering around. As soon as he rounds Nancys corner she punches him really hard across the face. He falls over, clutching his broken nose in pain.)
(Over an hour has passed since the attempted robbery and Mr 9 had been taken into police custody for questioning.)
(It appeared that the only thing missing was the lipstick that Liz had given Nancy. It had been taken by Mr 9, but quickly returned by police.)
(Nancy got very little sleep that night, and was so tired in the morning she couldn't even drive to the airport, she had to take a cab. The flight was very nice, but she to has a strange dream about the 99 steps.....)
(When they land in Paris-much to Nancy's regret-Liz forces them to tour the Valeur factory, Nancy see's a opportunity to sleuth around the factory.)
(Upon arriving at the factory Nancy notices a strange, conveyor belt moving a thin, white, powder that looked like flour, but had a strange sparkle to it, pouring into the lipstick mixture.)
(Nancy sees some steps leading down and decides to investigate, dragging Liz and George with her. While sluthing down the stairs a woman, short and thin, runs up the stairs wearing a white lab coat. She knocks George down while running past, Nancy's cheeck gets cut by the wall, and Liz's arm gets broken.)
(Later, at the hotel, Liz's arm is in a sling and Nancy's cheek is bandaged. Nancy suspects a connection between Mr White's lipstick plant and the strange dreams.
Monday, September 10, 2012
The Nancy Drew Mysteries
Tagline="Its not just kids mysteries anymore."
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Nancy Drew
Carson Drew - Nancys dad-(I know he sucks but you can't kill him off because he's an outlet for murder)
Hannah Gruen - She's like Ms Hudson, she is Nancy's housekeeper and friend
Ned Sigerson - Nancys love-interest?
Elizabeth Marvin - Nancy's best friend; a girly girl
Georgia Fayne - Nancy's second best friend; a mechanic and bookworm
-----------------------------------------------------------------
99 Steps Original Plot-
Nancy Drew's search for a flight of 99 steps to solve the mystery of a friend's weird dream takes her to France. But before she leaves the United States, an unknown person calling himself Monsieur Neuf warns the young sleuth not to pursue her mission.
With her friends Bess and George, Nancy arrives in Paris to join her father who is working on another case: to find out what, or who, is frightening wealthy financier Monsieur Leblanc into selling large amounts of securities.
Startling discoveries convince the young detective that Mr. Drew's case and her own mystery are linked by the 99 steps, and that a mysterious Arab has a strong hold over Leblanc. Is it blackmail? she wonders.
Nancy's quest for further clues leads to a romantic chateau country in the Loire Valley, where a web of danger closes in tightly around the three girls. How Nancy unearths the exciting mystery of the 99 steps will hold the reader spellbound with suspense.
My version -
Nancy searches for a flight of 99 steps to help find the source of her friends, weird, halluconigenic dreams.
It takes her to France, but before she leave an unkown person called "Mr 9" warns her not to go.
With Liz and George, Nancy arrives in Paris to join her father who is working on a seemingly unrelated case.(But they are actually connected). A myseries Arab is blackmailing "Mr White" into using his fortune into smuggeling a toxin into the country using his wifes makeup company.
Nancy's quest leads her and the three girls to a old, abandoned chateu in Lorie Valley, where they quickly find themselves over their heads. They discover a secret area that is part of a terrorist plot to provoke a war between two countries, and then make money selling weapons to both sides.
Lets get this shit on the road.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The 99 Steps Plot Ideas -
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Nancy Drew
Carson Drew - Nancys dad-(I know he sucks but you can't kill him off because he's an outlet for murder)
Hannah Gruen - She's like Ms Hudson, she is Nancy's housekeeper and friend
Ned Sigerson - Nancys love-interest?
Elizabeth Marvin - Nancy's best friend; a girly girl
Georgia Fayne - Nancy's second best friend; a mechanic and bookworm
-----------------------------------------------------------------
99 Steps Original Plot-
Nancy Drew's search for a flight of 99 steps to solve the mystery of a friend's weird dream takes her to France. But before she leaves the United States, an unknown person calling himself Monsieur Neuf warns the young sleuth not to pursue her mission.
With her friends Bess and George, Nancy arrives in Paris to join her father who is working on another case: to find out what, or who, is frightening wealthy financier Monsieur Leblanc into selling large amounts of securities.
Startling discoveries convince the young detective that Mr. Drew's case and her own mystery are linked by the 99 steps, and that a mysterious Arab has a strong hold over Leblanc. Is it blackmail? she wonders.
Nancy's quest for further clues leads to a romantic chateau country in the Loire Valley, where a web of danger closes in tightly around the three girls. How Nancy unearths the exciting mystery of the 99 steps will hold the reader spellbound with suspense.
My version -
Nancy searches for a flight of 99 steps to help find the source of her friends, weird, halluconigenic dreams.
It takes her to France, but before she leave an unkown person called "Mr 9" warns her not to go.
With Liz and George, Nancy arrives in Paris to join her father who is working on a seemingly unrelated case.(But they are actually connected). A myseries Arab is blackmailing "Mr White" into using his fortune into smuggeling a toxin into the country using his wifes makeup company.
Nancy's quest leads her and the three girls to a old, abandoned chateu in Lorie Valley, where they quickly find themselves over their heads. They discover a secret area that is part of a terrorist plot to provoke a war between two countries, and then make money selling weapons to both sides.
Lets get this shit on the road.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The 99 Steps Plot Ideas -
- The biological toxin is imported to the US from France in the lipstick "Valeur". It causes people to match popular fears with traumatic events from their life.
- The toxin looks like a white, dustlike, substance
- "Stay Out Of France, Mr Nine."
- Mr. Nine is a french man who wears a half mask. He is tall, with long arms and feet and heavy letter gloves.
- Mr. White is a French biochemist who got blackmailed into using his plant to process biotoxins. If he didn't, they would bankrupt him.
- Marie and Monique can be unsnobby, French people.
- Nancy's father calls Mr White's case "The Case Of The Psyched-out CEO"Oh what you mean the Blind Banker? Oh, burn.
- Mr. Nine pretends to be sick and steps in front of Nancy's car. Causing her to crash and almost hit him. When he first delivers the message, he is limping.
- Claude Aubert he was a gardener at the chateu, and was suspected of not being honest and sneaking money.
- Someone breaks in once. The first burgular is Claude Aubert and he is captured. The second burgular was walking on stilts. The burgulars were trying to break into the house to get the lipstick which they new would be crucial evidence.
- "Beware The Green Lion" is written on some sort of graffiti on Nancy's car.
- Nancy's license plait says "Slueth1".
- Elizabeth and Georgia are not Nancy's cousin.
- They all fall down the stairs and Liz breaks her arm.Because screw you Liz
- A mysterious woman in a white lab coat runs up the stairs and knocked the girls down.
- They go to Aubert's house and find his landlord there, they ask him about Aubert's twin brother:"Louis"
- Monique is Marie's mother. Marie comes to America to ask Nancy for help.
- The lipsticks affect is provoked with fear.
- Nancy drew and her friends are 20.
- Monique has bad dream involving the 99 steps-Opening
- Nancy calls Liz and George and tells them to come over to her house for "Confidential Information"....
- While George and Liz are on the way to Nancy's house, Nancy's window gets graffitied with a "Green Lion" positioned to look like its eating the sun.
- Liz comes to Nancy's house dressed up for dinner, wearing a new shade of lipstick-"Valeur"......
- Marie has dinner with them at a French restaurant, where the waiter-(Being "Mr Nine" or "Claude Aubert" hands them the threat to stay out of France.
- On the way back to Nancy's house, Nancy almost hits Louis-(A distraction while his brother robs their house)-Nancy gets to her house, to discover-(Claude)-rummaging around there house. She punches him in the face in an act of forever bad-assness.
- Take the plane to France. Land and go sightseeing, where they-(On Liz's assistance)-tour the "Valeur" factory. Nancy notices they have a lot of white thin powder being poured into the makeup mixture. Nancy, Liz, and George find the stairs, and try to go down them. They encounter a woman running up the stairs in a white lab coat. Liz breaks her arm, and nancy gets a scratch on her cheek.
- Nancy believes there is a connection between the 99 steps and Mr Whites factory. She and her girls and her dad go to investigate Mr White, upon asking him, discover that in alchemy; the "Green Lion" means acid....sulfuric acid, a key ingredient in the lipstick. And that he is one of 9 scientists who were kidnapped and forced to design a "White Warfare" weapon for a wealthy Arabic financier. The other 5 scientists were killed. Leaving only 9-(Claude)-8-(Louis)-1-(Charles, Mr White)-and 5(Emily Clark, the woman who pushed them down the stairs). They also find out prolonged exposure to the chemical causes complete psychological breakdown. And Mr White it trying to develop an antidote. 9,8, and 5 have all gone crazy. 5 is Mr Whites fiance'. The put the chemical in the lipstick as a test of it's affects on the public.
- S.E.M.C.I. stand for "Sulfuric Effect on Military and Chemical Intellect"
- Nancy runs to the plant after learning this. She see's a tanker pouring the powder onto a processing line and thinks quickly, the factory is totally automatic and runs on machines only, it's on the outside of Paris, and has very high, automated, security. So she blows it up.
- Nancy goes back to her hotel room with her friends, but when she finally lays down to go to sleep, she finds a letter on her pillow-"Good luck Nancy Drew, you'll need it. Mr. 10"
Thursday, September 6, 2012
The Missing Monet
It had been one month since the case I am writing about had occurred. And that was the normal waiting period for when something happened. Enough time for people to forget, families to mourn, and tabloids to move on. Just enough time for people to stop caring. In the month I have known Sofia Varden she has solved two cases; she is like a crime solving machine. The case I am about to tell you about is the first case we worked the one that let me get acquainted with the manner of law and the kind of people I would be dealing with. But at the time it was new it has become the norm.
It first started when I was fired from my newspaper job, Which I will refer too as"The Tabloid,". I had been fired for printing a story about a priceless painting that had been stolen. But the tabloid would rather have an article about Lindsay Lohan's new dog. It had not ended well. In the end the paper got what they wanted:Lindsay's picture on the front page and not a mention of the painting, the greatest heist of the year worth thousands of dollars and taken from a private collectors house. No word no one cared about the truth (and she was in jail anyway) when I went to protest to the editor he threw a book at me.
I had never been a person to beg for a job. But after getting turned down from every newspaper company in town I had come to expect rejection. Ever since I was a little girl I have wanted to be a writer, dreaming of far away places with pirates and elves. Where animals could talk and sing like in a movie, to tell fantastic stories about fun, bravery and adventure. What I didn't know was that at this moment the bravest person in the world was running away from the police just a few blocks over.
This job was interesting. It was a weekly column about the life of a police officer and they had assigned me to write it. Write it and I had the job. When I arrived they made me sign a waiver and prove my age and identity,I was use to this but people always believed I was younger than I was, it was probably my cheeks(I had dimples the size of craters. My age didn't mean anything.) I was a competent writer and always had good grades in school. I refused to be treated as a child. My height was my only setback, I was so short I could barley drive. I could hear police sirens blaring in the background as I walked to the police precinct.
Chapter Two
The Beginning Of A Long And Arduous Road.
The walls of the station were gray and dull, the feeling of criminals and lives wronged was in the air, that coupled with the droning rain outside was enough to put anyone to sleep. But I was so excited when I was sent over to the chief detectives office I barley noticed. There was a woman with mud stained hair, and very dark sunglasses in handcuffs inside the office with the detective. I wondered if she was blind. The exceedingly kind generous and funny woman earlier who occasionally runs from police, this handcuffed woman is her. I was moved into the detectives office. The non handcuffed woman introduced herself as Detective Bowen. She was 5'11 her long brown hair pulled up in a bun was quite a contrast to my blond hair. Her office felt much warmer then the rest of the building. A refreshing atmosphere. I felt like she had more humanity and compassion than anyone else. She asked me to sit and began talking almost like she had forgotten the other woman was there. The other woman appeared to be asleep, or dead,I I couldn;t tell with the sunglasses on but she certainly looked it, her hair was strangely and waist long, her clothes were old and rain soaked and any attempt at makeup had been smeared or rubbed off. Sweat was running down her pale skin and you could almost forget she even existed, her but still she seemed oddly cheery, she had a smile as she slept, but maybe it was just the room.
"Amelia Debord, so nice to meet you, we got your call yesterday about your article." Her voice was pleasant, not something you'd expect from a cop. She kept talking about what an amazing opportunity this was for youth to get a taste of after school careers. I was trying to concentrate on what she was saying but the whole time the other woman slept on. Finally Bowen turned to the sleeping woman.
"Varden?" she said,with the manner as how you would talk to a uninvited party guest. I appreciated she was trying to be calm, but now I know this would never work.
"Varden!"she yelled this time, still the woman wouldn't wake up. Eventually in her frustration she threw a pen at the Varden's head.
"OW!!" she shrieked obviously not expecting to be hit with a pen."What the HELL! Bowen?! I just ran 17 blocks! Give me some credit!" So maybe she wasn't blind.
"There's someone I want you to meet. This is Amelia Debord, she's gonna be assisting you in your cases." This was defiantly not good. I assumed I would be following Detective Bowen around, but instead I was gonna have to follow this person around? This blind drunk mess? Miss Varden didn't like this arrangement either.
"Wait I thought I was going to jail! These are false pretenses. I demand to be sent to prison!" I had never seen anyone so upset about not being in jail before. I almost considered walking out at that moment. There was no chance we would get along. There was nothing wrong with her, yet, despite her horrible hair and dodgy appearance, she seemed perfectly nice, I just didn't like smelly people in my car.
"The reason were taking her is we were hoping to avoid some of the more bad publicity and lawsuits that you cause. We think that having her the team would provide the public with a more human side of you." The word human seemed to be the only thing to confuse Miss Varden, like she didn't include herself as a person. I wondered if she had some dark tragic past and if I should watch my step around her.
Finally I spoke up "I think it could be fun, like a modern day Holmes And Watson." That would make her the socially awkward genius and me the bumbling sidekick. I regretted it as soon as I said it.
"Ok what do you suggest?" Varden asked. She had finally given up in defeat, and cooperated. It was the only time that would ever happen.
"How about the private painting theft?" What great luck that was the article I wrote for the "Tabloid "but was rejected, I had done my research, even written the article for the paper, but people were more interested in Lindsay Lohan's dog."Yeah, a Monet painting was purchased by the Anderson family last Thursday for, 2 Million dollars and was on private collection in there house."Detective Bowen handed us the police report."The painting was stolen Saturday night from their private vault. And they refuse police help."As happy as her voice may have seemed, her stare was penetrating, and while I wanted to do nothing more than leave, I agreed.
"What about you Varden."She wasn't asking, more like she was ordering."Nice and interesting, should keep you preoccupied for a couple hours?" And as much as it may have pained her inside. A genius like her to be stuck with me an idiot like me. But she didn't want to be hit with a pen again so she agreed.
"Uncuff me first."Compromise, a once and a life time opportunity with Ms Varden.
"Address?" She had the look a dog has on his face when you drive to the vet. She was probably used to getting her way, being treated like a genius, and of course she was, a socially awkward ADHD genius. Like the cold serial killer on TV. A genius in her own right.
"Micheal Anderson and his wife Lily live at 230 East Street in a private house. Can't miss it."
For once I had felt like I was going on a real adventure. Off to fight crime and catch criminals. Like James Bond. I grabbed my notepad and recorder, I forgot so easily, I hoped she wouldn't mind. Finally we left the office."Aren't you coming?" I asked Bowen,"Oh no I'd much rather be here."
As I we were leaving I heard Bowen mumbled "Fresh Meat". I wondered what she was talking about until I realized the Fresh Meat was me! This was the beginning of long and arduous road.
Chapter 3
Making Friends
It became immediately apparent to me that Sofia Varden was not good at making friends. She lacked the basic social concept of when to be polite and when to back off. It is because of this she never gets invited into houses. Again I wondered if she was going to change her clothes before we got to the the Anderson's house.
"Aren't you gonna change?"A question I had been considering asking for several minutes.
"Oh?"Like if she had forgotten that people wore clothes outside, preferably clean ones, especially when they weren't invited."What we need are disguises."Another great quality of hers was her devious smile. Somewhere between Freddy Kruger and a Cheshire cat.
"Why??"I had never worn a disguise before, unless Halloween counted. But what she had in mind was more in the area of shoplifting. Walking by shops and pulling things of the outside racks. Some of the items she used her "5 Finger Discount" on were a scarf, a pair of ugg boots, and a fedora.
"Are you blind?" I was still interested in who exactly this person was. She just waltzed around like she knew everything. No dignity or common courtesy.
"Do I look blind?" Sophia said as she stole some fries off of someone's table.
Finally I had enough"You have no shame do you?" The smiled her eerie Kruger Cat smile at me,
"Nope. None!"
"Well I don't want to call you Varden. Whats your first name?"
"Sophia."
"You don't look like a Sophia."
"Yeah, I look more like a Bob."
This was the normal level of intellectual depth our conversations got to.
"Do you mind if I turn my tape recorder on?" We were now walking down Pilgrim Street. Two more streets until we got to there. Just enough time to ask questions."Yeah sure."The most agreeable she was all day.
"Do you have hyper awareness? Can you say the alphabet backwards in seconds or something?"(Her all time record was 7 seconds.)
"No I just notice things,"Sofia paused. She wanted to be more specific but she wasn't sure how."It's like everythings just clearer. Everything makes more sense."
"If your do smart prove it" How interesting it would be to see her mind in work. I had my notes and my tape recorder ready.
"Ok fine" she stopped to crack her knuckles began her challenge face on. She took of her glasses. Her cold eyes staring at me like I was transparent. "Your 19 years old, 5''4 tall, 115 pounds. You also normally where glasses but today you want to look professional hence the contacts and the bun. You follow me around like a sheep so you must be the baby of the family which makes you always longing for approval of your controlling lawyer mom and your psychiatrist dad"
I stood there in utter shock as she walked away. The way she looked at me made me feel so cold, like I didn't exist but she knew everything about me."How did you know that? Did you google me?" It was so eerie that another person could know everything about me. Maybe it was just Bowen's office that was warm. She was defiantly cold. I was playing with an equal. Someone who my mother hadn't even prepared me for.
I didn't even realize I was crying until she spoke again. It wasn't a mocking tone like I expected, it was warm, it felt like she was sorry. I wondered how she did it maybe she did researched me and she was just lying.
"It's called cold reading."She was trying to make me feel better, Sophia always apologized for her mistakes when she knew she was wrong."It's simple I just read your body language." Sophia wouldn't even look at me now. Maybe she would say more if she looked up. Maybe she couldn't turn it off and she saw everything. My anger suddenly became an overwhelming case of pity.
"Wow, you should meet my mother." I was genuinely concerned if she was ok her face was turned even paler and she seemed to be sick."So what was it."
"Tan lines."She still wasn't looking at me."Your have a bridge tan line on your nose and a tan line on your neck where your hair would be."Sophia had started to regain her little color. Tan lines I had been to the beach earlier that week."Your age, weight and height are obvious."
"How did you know about my parents?"
"Not many people want to catch criminals. There's a type. A sheltered home, a longing for danger or you don't want to be-" She quickly put her hand over her mouth as thought she'd let go of a big secret she promised never to tell. She put her glasses back on and she could finally look at me. It was ok. Finally someone I couldn't lie to.
"Oh look there's the house!" She had finally retained her normal pale color. But now I realized it wasn't a sick pale, it was a moon light pale. It looked like light radiating from her skin.
"No one taught you to make friends did they?"Two new best going of to annoy some police officers.
Chapter 4
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The Varden Chronicles
Chapter 4
Normal Police Work.
The house smelled like rich people. It was what you would expect a house on the best street, with the best view,and the best family to live. It wasn't very homey. It was night black with creaky windows. It felt like a mental facility. The perfect place for Sophia.
I had never seen a crime scene. Aside from the descriptions of what my mother told me in her speeches. That were supposed to keep out of trouble or be put in a facility ourselves. A crime scene felt like crime. And what that felt like was based on your perception of right and wrong. To Sophia this is her natural environment. A perfect place for her to work her magic.
"Is you tape recorder still on?" Magic time. I had forgotten completely about that."This is important."
"Ok so what do we have here?" Sophia asked as she lead me upstairs. When we arrived upstairs I saw that the window had been completely smashed in and that the house has been torn apart. It looked like the remnants of a college party.
"They came in through the window stole painting from that case there." The case was in the corner of the room, not far from the window. It had been broken, and the very expensive painting taken out.
"But then why didn't they take anything else? You see the problem with stealing a painting is you can't sell it anywhere because alreasypeople know it's missing."Criminals are stupid they make mistakes but there is only one place you can sell it. At Black Market price that painting would go for about 1 million dollars."
"Wait The Black Market?" She needed to slow down. Her brain was faster than normal people's. Especially mine."This is San Fransisco we don't have Black Market. We have Baseball games and stadiums of people who cheer while kids eat corn dogs. We don't have The Black Market!" But as determined I was not to go Sophia was doubly determined to go.
"Come on Watson! We're going to do illegal shit!"Great. Exactly what police detective's should be doing. Just normal police work.
Chapter 5
Black Market Palooza
Once you met Sophia Varden it was apparent she had connections. I first thought she was a drug dealer when I saw her sitting in Bowen's office. She was just sent to run around like a pet on a leash. She was a pet. And she hated it.
We were smashed together cab heading to the Tenderloin District. The most dangerous district of San Francisco. Well known for it's heroin and homeless people. The tiny cab was filled with smoke from the driven and we would have rolled down the window if it wasn't so cold outside.
"Where is this place?" There had never been any accounts on the news and normally there was so much that went along with the market. Organ Sales, Weapons Trading. I had expected a dark room with all manner of people. The most dangerous people in the world buying the most dangerous things.
"An abandoned subway tunnel." She had apparently been there many times. I had never been comfortable with being alone on a dark street, but somehow being with Sophia made me even worse. She knew the area and the people and was sure to have some dangerous friends.
The Market was exactly as I had imagined it. It looked like an evil farmer's market. The black canopies smelled like mold and were masked by the strong smell of cigarette smoke. Sophia lit one herself.
"Isn't that bad for your health?" Again she looked at me and smiled her Kruger Cat smile. When she didn't have an answer to a question she would do this.
"We've got to find Raul he can help us. Knows this place like back of his hook." Raul had in fact lost his hand in a tragic dolphin training accident in 09' and had a hook fitted on his stub. "Don't question it." And I never questioned anything she will ever said again.
We walked up to a shop selling marijuana. "Hey Warden!" Raul had yelled at us. He called Sophia "Warden". But before I had time to question even this something more confusing happened.
"Raul where would we find some paintings?" Raul was a short man with a buzz cut and a goatee. His hook was defiantly to big for his arm.
"No way I'm telling you anything!" Sophia took this to mean a challenge she took of her glasses and looked directly at the pot.
"This isn't real marijuana this is lint." He was selling Couch Lint as marijuana.
Raul was visibly worried. "Three blocks down then a left."
"Come on. How could you possibly know that?" The marijuana looked real to me. I wondered how she knew that maybe her glasses made everything blurry so she wouldn't have to see anything. Or maybe she was blind and just had super senses?
"Raul's never been trustworthy. Do anything for a buck." Raul did indeed look like the kind of shady person you would think of.
"Then how do you know he isn''t lying?" I had heard about cold reading before. There were these things called "tells". You could tell when a person is lying. She hadn't even looked at him when she took her glasses off.
"I don't I just thought it would be fun." Yeah fun. Going into the Black Market to hunt a Art Thief. Fun.
As soon as we came around the corner the atmosphere was completely different. This section of the track had been taken out and replaced with a new floor. A single light hung from the ceiling illuminating a square figure under a red tarp.
"Who are you?!" Yelled a thick Russian accent from behind us.
"WHAT THE FUCK!!!" We jumped up. Standing behind us was a very tall, very meaty Russian man pointing a gun directly at us.
"Vat are you doing here?!" Said the tall fat Russian man. I was very surprised that Sophia didn't hear him coming maybe she was so distracted by the painting.
"Darn, I HATE being held at gun point!" Sophia was more experienced with Russian Mobsters than me.
"I'm just a lost blind woman and this nice person was just trying to help me." There went the puppy dog face. The adorable face of cuteness and innocence. The tall fat Russian man lowered his gun.
And Sophia took his kind opportunity to punch him in the face.
"GRAB THE PAINTING AND RUN!!!!" She didn't have to tell me twice.
"COME ON WATSON!!!!"
We ran down the abandoned subway tunnel, a priceless painting under our arms, being chased by a tall fat Russian mobster who was very mad because he had just been punched in the face.
We were in quite a hurry.
There was now over 5 tall fat Russian mobsters chasing us. All yelling obscenities in there respective languages. A barrage of bullets were flying past us at over 820 mph. Several of them going through my tape recorder and notepad spilling the condense of my bag all over the ground. It was ok. I had a pretty good idea I would remember this.
Finally we found another tunnel exit and took the happy opportunity to leave it screaming at the top of our lungs.
"Do cases normally go this WAY!" I yelled gasping between breaths.
"NO that was an exception like. Black Market Palooza." Indeed it was. The two friends headed of to the police station to rub their success in every ones face.
Chapter-
Oh my god, what have I gotten myself into.
It first started when I was fired from my newspaper job, Which I will refer too as"The Tabloid,". I had been fired for printing a story about a priceless painting that had been stolen. But the tabloid would rather have an article about Lindsay Lohan's new dog. It had not ended well. In the end the paper got what they wanted:Lindsay's picture on the front page and not a mention of the painting, the greatest heist of the year worth thousands of dollars and taken from a private collectors house. No word no one cared about the truth (and she was in jail anyway) when I went to protest to the editor he threw a book at me.
I had never been a person to beg for a job. But after getting turned down from every newspaper company in town I had come to expect rejection. Ever since I was a little girl I have wanted to be a writer, dreaming of far away places with pirates and elves. Where animals could talk and sing like in a movie, to tell fantastic stories about fun, bravery and adventure. What I didn't know was that at this moment the bravest person in the world was running away from the police just a few blocks over.
This job was interesting. It was a weekly column about the life of a police officer and they had assigned me to write it. Write it and I had the job. When I arrived they made me sign a waiver and prove my age and identity,I was use to this but people always believed I was younger than I was, it was probably my cheeks(I had dimples the size of craters. My age didn't mean anything.) I was a competent writer and always had good grades in school. I refused to be treated as a child. My height was my only setback, I was so short I could barley drive. I could hear police sirens blaring in the background as I walked to the police precinct.
Chapter Two
The Beginning Of A Long And Arduous Road.
The walls of the station were gray and dull, the feeling of criminals and lives wronged was in the air, that coupled with the droning rain outside was enough to put anyone to sleep. But I was so excited when I was sent over to the chief detectives office I barley noticed. There was a woman with mud stained hair, and very dark sunglasses in handcuffs inside the office with the detective. I wondered if she was blind. The exceedingly kind generous and funny woman earlier who occasionally runs from police, this handcuffed woman is her. I was moved into the detectives office. The non handcuffed woman introduced herself as Detective Bowen. She was 5'11 her long brown hair pulled up in a bun was quite a contrast to my blond hair. Her office felt much warmer then the rest of the building. A refreshing atmosphere. I felt like she had more humanity and compassion than anyone else. She asked me to sit and began talking almost like she had forgotten the other woman was there. The other woman appeared to be asleep, or dead,I I couldn;t tell with the sunglasses on but she certainly looked it, her hair was strangely and waist long, her clothes were old and rain soaked and any attempt at makeup had been smeared or rubbed off. Sweat was running down her pale skin and you could almost forget she even existed, her but still she seemed oddly cheery, she had a smile as she slept, but maybe it was just the room.
"Amelia Debord, so nice to meet you, we got your call yesterday about your article." Her voice was pleasant, not something you'd expect from a cop. She kept talking about what an amazing opportunity this was for youth to get a taste of after school careers. I was trying to concentrate on what she was saying but the whole time the other woman slept on. Finally Bowen turned to the sleeping woman.
"Varden?" she said,with the manner as how you would talk to a uninvited party guest. I appreciated she was trying to be calm, but now I know this would never work.
"Varden!"she yelled this time, still the woman wouldn't wake up. Eventually in her frustration she threw a pen at the Varden's head.
"OW!!" she shrieked obviously not expecting to be hit with a pen."What the HELL! Bowen?! I just ran 17 blocks! Give me some credit!" So maybe she wasn't blind.
"There's someone I want you to meet. This is Amelia Debord, she's gonna be assisting you in your cases." This was defiantly not good. I assumed I would be following Detective Bowen around, but instead I was gonna have to follow this person around? This blind drunk mess? Miss Varden didn't like this arrangement either.
"Wait I thought I was going to jail! These are false pretenses. I demand to be sent to prison!" I had never seen anyone so upset about not being in jail before. I almost considered walking out at that moment. There was no chance we would get along. There was nothing wrong with her, yet, despite her horrible hair and dodgy appearance, she seemed perfectly nice, I just didn't like smelly people in my car.
"The reason were taking her is we were hoping to avoid some of the more bad publicity and lawsuits that you cause. We think that having her the team would provide the public with a more human side of you." The word human seemed to be the only thing to confuse Miss Varden, like she didn't include herself as a person. I wondered if she had some dark tragic past and if I should watch my step around her.
Finally I spoke up "I think it could be fun, like a modern day Holmes And Watson." That would make her the socially awkward genius and me the bumbling sidekick. I regretted it as soon as I said it.
"Ok what do you suggest?" Varden asked. She had finally given up in defeat, and cooperated. It was the only time that would ever happen.
"How about the private painting theft?" What great luck that was the article I wrote for the "Tabloid "but was rejected, I had done my research, even written the article for the paper, but people were more interested in Lindsay Lohan's dog."Yeah, a Monet painting was purchased by the Anderson family last Thursday for, 2 Million dollars and was on private collection in there house."Detective Bowen handed us the police report."The painting was stolen Saturday night from their private vault. And they refuse police help."As happy as her voice may have seemed, her stare was penetrating, and while I wanted to do nothing more than leave, I agreed.
"What about you Varden."She wasn't asking, more like she was ordering."Nice and interesting, should keep you preoccupied for a couple hours?" And as much as it may have pained her inside. A genius like her to be stuck with me an idiot like me. But she didn't want to be hit with a pen again so she agreed.
"Uncuff me first."Compromise, a once and a life time opportunity with Ms Varden.
"Address?" She had the look a dog has on his face when you drive to the vet. She was probably used to getting her way, being treated like a genius, and of course she was, a socially awkward ADHD genius. Like the cold serial killer on TV. A genius in her own right.
"Micheal Anderson and his wife Lily live at 230 East Street in a private house. Can't miss it."
For once I had felt like I was going on a real adventure. Off to fight crime and catch criminals. Like James Bond. I grabbed my notepad and recorder, I forgot so easily, I hoped she wouldn't mind. Finally we left the office."Aren't you coming?" I asked Bowen,"Oh no I'd much rather be here."
As I we were leaving I heard Bowen mumbled "Fresh Meat". I wondered what she was talking about until I realized the Fresh Meat was me! This was the beginning of long and arduous road.
Chapter 3
Making Friends
It became immediately apparent to me that Sofia Varden was not good at making friends. She lacked the basic social concept of when to be polite and when to back off. It is because of this she never gets invited into houses. Again I wondered if she was going to change her clothes before we got to the the Anderson's house.
"Aren't you gonna change?"A question I had been considering asking for several minutes.
"Oh?"Like if she had forgotten that people wore clothes outside, preferably clean ones, especially when they weren't invited."What we need are disguises."Another great quality of hers was her devious smile. Somewhere between Freddy Kruger and a Cheshire cat.
"Why??"I had never worn a disguise before, unless Halloween counted. But what she had in mind was more in the area of shoplifting. Walking by shops and pulling things of the outside racks. Some of the items she used her "5 Finger Discount" on were a scarf, a pair of ugg boots, and a fedora.
"Are you blind?" I was still interested in who exactly this person was. She just waltzed around like she knew everything. No dignity or common courtesy.
"Do I look blind?" Sophia said as she stole some fries off of someone's table.
Finally I had enough"You have no shame do you?" The smiled her eerie Kruger Cat smile at me,
"Nope. None!"
"Well I don't want to call you Varden. Whats your first name?"
"Sophia."
"You don't look like a Sophia."
"Yeah, I look more like a Bob."
This was the normal level of intellectual depth our conversations got to.
"Do you mind if I turn my tape recorder on?" We were now walking down Pilgrim Street. Two more streets until we got to there. Just enough time to ask questions."Yeah sure."The most agreeable she was all day.
"Do you have hyper awareness? Can you say the alphabet backwards in seconds or something?"(Her all time record was 7 seconds.)
"No I just notice things,"Sofia paused. She wanted to be more specific but she wasn't sure how."It's like everythings just clearer. Everything makes more sense."
"If your do smart prove it" How interesting it would be to see her mind in work. I had my notes and my tape recorder ready.
"Ok fine" she stopped to crack her knuckles began her challenge face on. She took of her glasses. Her cold eyes staring at me like I was transparent. "Your 19 years old, 5''4 tall, 115 pounds. You also normally where glasses but today you want to look professional hence the contacts and the bun. You follow me around like a sheep so you must be the baby of the family which makes you always longing for approval of your controlling lawyer mom and your psychiatrist dad"
I stood there in utter shock as she walked away. The way she looked at me made me feel so cold, like I didn't exist but she knew everything about me."How did you know that? Did you google me?" It was so eerie that another person could know everything about me. Maybe it was just Bowen's office that was warm. She was defiantly cold. I was playing with an equal. Someone who my mother hadn't even prepared me for.
I didn't even realize I was crying until she spoke again. It wasn't a mocking tone like I expected, it was warm, it felt like she was sorry. I wondered how she did it maybe she did researched me and she was just lying.
"It's called cold reading."She was trying to make me feel better, Sophia always apologized for her mistakes when she knew she was wrong."It's simple I just read your body language." Sophia wouldn't even look at me now. Maybe she would say more if she looked up. Maybe she couldn't turn it off and she saw everything. My anger suddenly became an overwhelming case of pity.
"Wow, you should meet my mother." I was genuinely concerned if she was ok her face was turned even paler and she seemed to be sick."So what was it."
"Tan lines."She still wasn't looking at me."Your have a bridge tan line on your nose and a tan line on your neck where your hair would be."Sophia had started to regain her little color. Tan lines I had been to the beach earlier that week."Your age, weight and height are obvious."
"How did you know about my parents?"
"Not many people want to catch criminals. There's a type. A sheltered home, a longing for danger or you don't want to be-" She quickly put her hand over her mouth as thought she'd let go of a big secret she promised never to tell. She put her glasses back on and she could finally look at me. It was ok. Finally someone I couldn't lie to.
"Oh look there's the house!" She had finally retained her normal pale color. But now I realized it wasn't a sick pale, it was a moon light pale. It looked like light radiating from her skin.
"No one taught you to make friends did they?"Two new best going of to annoy some police officers.
Chapter 4
out
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The Varden Chronicles
Chapter 4
Normal Police Work.
The house smelled like rich people. It was what you would expect a house on the best street, with the best view,and the best family to live. It wasn't very homey. It was night black with creaky windows. It felt like a mental facility. The perfect place for Sophia.
I had never seen a crime scene. Aside from the descriptions of what my mother told me in her speeches. That were supposed to keep out of trouble or be put in a facility ourselves. A crime scene felt like crime. And what that felt like was based on your perception of right and wrong. To Sophia this is her natural environment. A perfect place for her to work her magic.
"Is you tape recorder still on?" Magic time. I had forgotten completely about that."This is important."
"Ok so what do we have here?" Sophia asked as she lead me upstairs. When we arrived upstairs I saw that the window had been completely smashed in and that the house has been torn apart. It looked like the remnants of a college party.
"They came in through the window stole painting from that case there." The case was in the corner of the room, not far from the window. It had been broken, and the very expensive painting taken out.
"But then why didn't they take anything else? You see the problem with stealing a painting is you can't sell it anywhere because alreasypeople know it's missing."Criminals are stupid they make mistakes but there is only one place you can sell it. At Black Market price that painting would go for about 1 million dollars."
"Wait The Black Market?" She needed to slow down. Her brain was faster than normal people's. Especially mine."This is San Fransisco we don't have Black Market. We have Baseball games and stadiums of people who cheer while kids eat corn dogs. We don't have The Black Market!" But as determined I was not to go Sophia was doubly determined to go.
"Come on Watson! We're going to do illegal shit!"Great. Exactly what police detective's should be doing. Just normal police work.
Chapter 5
Black Market Palooza
Once you met Sophia Varden it was apparent she had connections. I first thought she was a drug dealer when I saw her sitting in Bowen's office. She was just sent to run around like a pet on a leash. She was a pet. And she hated it.
We were smashed together cab heading to the Tenderloin District. The most dangerous district of San Francisco. Well known for it's heroin and homeless people. The tiny cab was filled with smoke from the driven and we would have rolled down the window if it wasn't so cold outside.
"Where is this place?" There had never been any accounts on the news and normally there was so much that went along with the market. Organ Sales, Weapons Trading. I had expected a dark room with all manner of people. The most dangerous people in the world buying the most dangerous things.
"An abandoned subway tunnel." She had apparently been there many times. I had never been comfortable with being alone on a dark street, but somehow being with Sophia made me even worse. She knew the area and the people and was sure to have some dangerous friends.
The Market was exactly as I had imagined it. It looked like an evil farmer's market. The black canopies smelled like mold and were masked by the strong smell of cigarette smoke. Sophia lit one herself.
"Isn't that bad for your health?" Again she looked at me and smiled her Kruger Cat smile. When she didn't have an answer to a question she would do this.
"We've got to find Raul he can help us. Knows this place like back of his hook." Raul had in fact lost his hand in a tragic dolphin training accident in 09' and had a hook fitted on his stub. "Don't question it." And I never questioned anything she will ever said again.
We walked up to a shop selling marijuana. "Hey Warden!" Raul had yelled at us. He called Sophia "Warden". But before I had time to question even this something more confusing happened.
"Raul where would we find some paintings?" Raul was a short man with a buzz cut and a goatee. His hook was defiantly to big for his arm.
"No way I'm telling you anything!" Sophia took this to mean a challenge she took of her glasses and looked directly at the pot.
"This isn't real marijuana this is lint." He was selling Couch Lint as marijuana.
Raul was visibly worried. "Three blocks down then a left."
"Come on. How could you possibly know that?" The marijuana looked real to me. I wondered how she knew that maybe her glasses made everything blurry so she wouldn't have to see anything. Or maybe she was blind and just had super senses?
"Raul's never been trustworthy. Do anything for a buck." Raul did indeed look like the kind of shady person you would think of.
"Then how do you know he isn''t lying?" I had heard about cold reading before. There were these things called "tells". You could tell when a person is lying. She hadn't even looked at him when she took her glasses off.
"I don't I just thought it would be fun." Yeah fun. Going into the Black Market to hunt a Art Thief. Fun.
As soon as we came around the corner the atmosphere was completely different. This section of the track had been taken out and replaced with a new floor. A single light hung from the ceiling illuminating a square figure under a red tarp.
"Who are you?!" Yelled a thick Russian accent from behind us.
"WHAT THE FUCK!!!" We jumped up. Standing behind us was a very tall, very meaty Russian man pointing a gun directly at us.
"Vat are you doing here?!" Said the tall fat Russian man. I was very surprised that Sophia didn't hear him coming maybe she was so distracted by the painting.
"Darn, I HATE being held at gun point!" Sophia was more experienced with Russian Mobsters than me.
"I'm just a lost blind woman and this nice person was just trying to help me." There went the puppy dog face. The adorable face of cuteness and innocence. The tall fat Russian man lowered his gun.
And Sophia took his kind opportunity to punch him in the face.
"GRAB THE PAINTING AND RUN!!!!" She didn't have to tell me twice.
"COME ON WATSON!!!!"
We ran down the abandoned subway tunnel, a priceless painting under our arms, being chased by a tall fat Russian mobster who was very mad because he had just been punched in the face.
We were in quite a hurry.
There was now over 5 tall fat Russian mobsters chasing us. All yelling obscenities in there respective languages. A barrage of bullets were flying past us at over 820 mph. Several of them going through my tape recorder and notepad spilling the condense of my bag all over the ground. It was ok. I had a pretty good idea I would remember this.
Finally we found another tunnel exit and took the happy opportunity to leave it screaming at the top of our lungs.
"Do cases normally go this WAY!" I yelled gasping between breaths.
"NO that was an exception like. Black Market Palooza." Indeed it was. The two friends headed of to the police station to rub their success in every ones face.
Chapter-
We returned painting to its rightful owners.
Needless to say this doesn't seem like much of a first case. But then again most of our cases were like this. A theft or murder would be committed and the perpetrator would be obvious. There were no complicated murders in real life. This is one of the reasons that my decided to pursue a more, private, practice. Where we could help the police and still offer our services to the private consulting group. I was to be her biographer, writing our exploits down and publishing them. All that was to settle was we're I was to live. My measly 100 dollar a week salary could not afford my own apartment, and I felt Sophia owed me. So I moved in with her.
We were now roommates, sharing a townhouse at 606 Bart's Dr.
Needless to say this doesn't seem like much of a first case. But then again most of our cases were like this. A theft or murder would be committed and the perpetrator would be obvious. There were no complicated murders in real life. This is one of the reasons that my decided to pursue a more, private, practice. Where we could help the police and still offer our services to the private consulting group. I was to be her biographer, writing our exploits down and publishing them. All that was to settle was we're I was to live. My measly 100 dollar a week salary could not afford my own apartment, and I felt Sophia owed me. So I moved in with her.
We were now roommates, sharing a townhouse at 606 Bart's Dr.
Oh my god, what have I gotten myself into.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
College Info 9-5-12
I wanna go to UC Berkley.
- Tuition-12,875 dollars annual
- Assoc. Toxocolgy
- Journalism-Masters
- Assoc. Latin
- Assoc. French
- Bachelors and Doctorat's in Anthropolgy
- Accelerated program
- double major
- internships
- study abroad
- 22% of aplications admitted
- I could be an army translator
- Army nurse
- Languages-
- Pushtu/Pashto/Pachto
- Pushtu-Afghan
- Persian-Afghan
- Persian-Iranian
- Arabic-Modern Standard
- Arabic-Gulf-Iraqi
- Arabic-Egyptian
- Arabic-Jordanian
- Arabic-Syrian
- Arabic-Lebanese
- Arabic-Yemeni
- Arabic-Sudanese
- Arabic-Maghrebi
- Arabic-Algerian
- Arabic-Libyan
- Arabic-Moroccan
Arabic-Tunisian - Kurdish
- Kurdish-Behdini (Kurmanji)
- Kurdish-Sorani
Wet Pavement
It wasn't if anyone got hurt, her foot slipped and she fell, that was all.....it wasn't my fault. It had to be done......it had to...
I have to hide the body-I have to run, I didn't want to be here...I wanted to be with my wife, my loving wife.
The wife I didn't have anymore.
I always enjoyed playing practical jokes, but this was to far.
The phone in the corner started to ring-who could it be? Who was calling? At this time of night....did someone hear....?
I stared into the darkness, and slowly walked over to answer the phone.
"H--hello.....?" I asked. Ok, this would be my alibi, I was on the phone.
"Roger, when are you getting here? The party can't start without you! It's your art you idiot. Get over here!"
"Oh yeah--...sure. I'll be there soon."
I'd have to dispose of the body....but how? I couldn't bury her at the house......to obvious.
Oh! The car, of course! I could drive to the lake-it was so close.
I wrapped her in an old sheet, and placed her gently in the back of the car. The drive to the lake was long and painful. The traffic never seemed to move, and I was sweating through my suit.
At the lake I got out, and slapped the door.
Loud! I hope no one heard that......I listened for a moment, and heard nothing.
I put the car in neutral, and watched the car roll down the hill.
Damn. I'm gonna have to walk to work tomorrow.
Part 2:
Just a normal day. A completely normal day..........
I can do this, all I have to do is say hello- Yeah! Hello! Pop in, say hello, make my excuses. It'll be fine.
Cool, confident, and complete....well. Not totally, I was missing something. I looked down at my wedding band,
"God. How could I do this? How could I act like I was happy when all I saw was her staring up at me?"
I have to hide the body-I have to run, I didn't want to be here...I wanted to be with my wife, my loving wife.
The wife I didn't have anymore.
I always enjoyed playing practical jokes, but this was to far.
The phone in the corner started to ring-who could it be? Who was calling? At this time of night....did someone hear....?
I stared into the darkness, and slowly walked over to answer the phone.
"H--hello.....?" I asked. Ok, this would be my alibi, I was on the phone.
"Roger, when are you getting here? The party can't start without you! It's your art you idiot. Get over here!"
"Oh yeah--...sure. I'll be there soon."
I'd have to dispose of the body....but how? I couldn't bury her at the house......to obvious.
Oh! The car, of course! I could drive to the lake-it was so close.
I wrapped her in an old sheet, and placed her gently in the back of the car. The drive to the lake was long and painful. The traffic never seemed to move, and I was sweating through my suit.
At the lake I got out, and slapped the door.
Loud! I hope no one heard that......I listened for a moment, and heard nothing.
I put the car in neutral, and watched the car roll down the hill.
Damn. I'm gonna have to walk to work tomorrow.
Part 2:
Just a normal day. A completely normal day..........
I can do this, all I have to do is say hello- Yeah! Hello! Pop in, say hello, make my excuses. It'll be fine.
Cool, confident, and complete....well. Not totally, I was missing something. I looked down at my wedding band,
"God. How could I do this? How could I act like I was happy when all I saw was her staring up at me?"
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
C.E Ideas
Hello people of the future! By now, you have figured out that C.E is someone that I created. Purely an outlet to insult you with. But still, as a fake person, she requires character development, a life. Here are my ideas for her:
- She's from a very religious family.
- She either lives with her abusive mother or father, or uncle or something....
- She has an estranged older sibling, who holds some kind of position in the government.
- She is a good drawer.
- I SHOULD DO A SUMMARY OF HER SKILLS LIKE WATSON DOES IN STUDY IN PINK.
- She takes home school, A.P. courses.
- She got put in home school because she lit her old school on fire.
- She doesn't like watching TV, unless it is the news.
- She hates writing, as she views it as trivial and simply an expression of words on paper, with less meaning than a receipt.
- She does not know what Harry Potter is, she's in Griffindor.
How I Met Your Sociopath
With me reading up on "The Blog Of John Watson" I can't help but see all the views he gets. Why don't I get that many views? What does he have that I doesn't. (Well for one he's a fiction character with a 100 year old fandom, numerous movies and television shows and thousands of devoted fans.)
But I could have that, if I put a little more out there. A little more personnel.
I read the "Study In Pink" and that was fairly personal about their little sociopath, so I wonder what my resident sociopath would think about me telling the story of how we met?
Oh god, help us;
Because of an unfortunate friendship I had in the 6th grade, I was forced to leave for 7th grade. Outsourcing my education to a very religious, very good, private homeschool.
This private homeschool-(at which C.E still attends)-was quite a while a way from our house, and every week on tuseday, we would drive over there, and turn in my homework. Ocassionaly-and quite akwardly-the school would hold these little "get togethers" where extremely strange, straightforward, religious student would get together and talk about how the world was only 1,000 years old and how evolution was a poor mans excuse and bull like that.
But upon one of these meetings I happened to meet someone I quite agreed with. You guessed it, C.E. She was sitting at a table, reading, while other kids played basketball and volleyball and cried or prayed everytime they got a boo-boo.
I went over to the table to investigate why there would be anyone who would wanna miss out on the "christan fun time", and found that, quite suprisingly, C.E had a black eye.
I asked her how she got it, to which she responded:"I simply said, that if the world is only 1,000 years old, why was jesus born 2,000 years ago?"
"Someone punched you for that?" I asked.
"No, I believe the point I made about the whole notion of religion being no different from the early pagans did that. Are you religious?" That was a weird thing to ask after insulting religion, I thought.
"In retrospect, I didn't expect that short kid to punch that hard."
"I can imagine that......." I said.
That may seem like an unlikely start to a friendship, but during that time I had no friends and was quite alone. And any company no matter how strange was better than none.
God help us, L.N.S
But I could have that, if I put a little more out there. A little more personnel.
I read the "Study In Pink" and that was fairly personal about their little sociopath, so I wonder what my resident sociopath would think about me telling the story of how we met?
Oh god, help us;
Because of an unfortunate friendship I had in the 6th grade, I was forced to leave for 7th grade. Outsourcing my education to a very religious, very good, private homeschool.
This private homeschool-(at which C.E still attends)-was quite a while a way from our house, and every week on tuseday, we would drive over there, and turn in my homework. Ocassionaly-and quite akwardly-the school would hold these little "get togethers" where extremely strange, straightforward, religious student would get together and talk about how the world was only 1,000 years old and how evolution was a poor mans excuse and bull like that.
But upon one of these meetings I happened to meet someone I quite agreed with. You guessed it, C.E. She was sitting at a table, reading, while other kids played basketball and volleyball and cried or prayed everytime they got a boo-boo.
I went over to the table to investigate why there would be anyone who would wanna miss out on the "christan fun time", and found that, quite suprisingly, C.E had a black eye.
I asked her how she got it, to which she responded:"I simply said, that if the world is only 1,000 years old, why was jesus born 2,000 years ago?"
"Someone punched you for that?" I asked.
"No, I believe the point I made about the whole notion of religion being no different from the early pagans did that. Are you religious?" That was a weird thing to ask after insulting religion, I thought.
"In retrospect, I didn't expect that short kid to punch that hard."
"I can imagine that......." I said.
That may seem like an unlikely start to a friendship, but during that time I had no friends and was quite alone. And any company no matter how strange was better than none.
God help us, L.N.S
Monday, September 3, 2012
IDK
C.E-"What makes you think I won't punch you?"
L.N.S"Please, you're to sentimental to punch someone."-No suprise, I punched her in the face.
Why did she always have to be so, damn, offensive? Was it just her nature? She might as well have a big sign on her head labeled:"Punch me, I deserve it."
Mind you, I'd have to be a pretty big sign to fit her pretty big ego.
I am talking about a person, who did not know what Hufflepuff-let alone-Harry Potter was. This is someone, who's phyilosphy is argue with everything. I mean everything. If something doesn't make sense, it's probably wrong, and she's usually right.......
God what could that mean for me.
Sincerly, the sociopath and the mole.
I have some questions for our respective candidates:
L.N.S
- What would you do about the high tuition at a university?
- Health care, your views?
- We've heard a lot of talk about how the economy's all Obama's fault, but be reminded it all started during Bush's term. What would you do about the debt?
- Your views on planned parenthood? I know you think it's bad, but WHY? Its not just bad because you say it is, give some reasons?
- Lets say the situation in Syria gets worse, the US could interfere but at the risk of letting groups like Hezbollah and Hamas come to power? What would you do?
L.N.S
Sunday, September 2, 2012
A Note On Sociopaths
Being a psychiatrist designated one myself I feel almost obligated to warn you about...myself. Sociopathy is a lack of human empathy or desentitization if you prefer, (I don't it sounds to patronizng and.....clean), and one thing I hate more is when people just assume we have no emotion. We have emotoion, we just dont care, because we've seen it before.
An example that myself and L.N.S's english teacher used was that; if someone was walking along and saw someone being kicked in the face, any normal person would be horrified, but sociopath's look at it differently, logically-if you will. We might be more inclined to wonder why the person delivering the beating chose to kick the nose instead of the mouth.
The point still rests, sociopaths are people to, we're just people who dont give a shit. So while all you normal people freak the hell out, we stay calm, relaxed, and observe.
Psychiciatrists are a waste of time, C.E.
An example that myself and L.N.S's english teacher used was that; if someone was walking along and saw someone being kicked in the face, any normal person would be horrified, but sociopath's look at it differently, logically-if you will. We might be more inclined to wonder why the person delivering the beating chose to kick the nose instead of the mouth.
The point still rests, sociopaths are people to, we're just people who dont give a shit. So while all you normal people freak the hell out, we stay calm, relaxed, and observe.
Psychiciatrists are a waste of time, C.E.
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