|· Please check out these guidlines BEFORE you register. · Portal||Help Search Members Calendar|
|Welcome Guest ( Log In | Register )||Resend Validation Email|
|Welcome to WAYWARD INK. We hope you enjoy your visit.|
You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free.
Join our community!
If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features:
Posted: Apr 9 2008, 09:01 PM
Where you at, Hon?
Member No.: 3
Joined: 18-November 07
My name’s Errol Waring and I live at 203 Custer Boulevard. That’s downtown Strangetown.
I think we’ve met before but if you don’t remember me don‘t worry about it. Here’s my card. That’s right. Robots. I make them. I repair them.
Yes, I’m the same guy who wrote that book From The Basement to the Moon. Sure, it’s a stupid title and I told him so. Who? The book agent, that’s who. When I wrote it I called it Other Times, Other Places, but he said, “I get books published and I’ve been doing it for a long time. Work with me, Errol. Your title isn’t going to do what we want. Your market is young adults, not little kids. Trust me on this.”
I’m an inventor, not a writer, so I just signed the contract. But trust him? What does he know? When I was younger we didn’t read. We partied. Anyway, somebody out there is reading books because mine sold enough copies to make a little profit for the publishers. The agent got himself a new car. I got a check for 20 big ones.
So Kate and I used the money to renovate the house. We built a workshop over the garage and converted the basement into living space. Kate didn’t like having my workshop in the basement because my machines made the dishes rattle.
Then life took an unexpected turn.
I came home from work one day, stopped to talk to my little Ania playing in the living room, then walked into the kitchen. I heard someone going through the cupboards in there and I thought it was Kate. It wasn’t. I saw an old woman with her back to me and her head in the refrigerator.
“Hello,” I said. “Where’s Kate?”
The old woman closed the refrigerator and turned around. She dropped the plate she held. It didn’t break because it was plastic. I bent over and picked it up. But when I stood up again and saw her face I dropped the plate, too. The old woman and I stared at each other.
“Errol?” she said.
Posted: May 11 2008, 01:23 PM
Member No.: 4
Joined: 19-November 07
Uh-oh. I had a feeling little old mumsy would pop back in the picture sooner or later. This should be entertaining.