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[What exactly would you say you DO around here, Grundy?]

You're not putting dates on your episodes? Didn't you get that memo?


What exactly would you say you DO around here, Grundy?

[Atelier]

How did I miss it?
Happy birthday Atelier and Monkey!

What? When did this happen? Why wasn't I informed?!

I might need an extension! I've been tripping balls all week on pain killers!

AGS helped me to find the lord, lose weight, make friends with a guy in Australia, taught me that Canadians are people too, and helped me get my blue belt in Karate Fu. It also helped me make the games that I wanted to play, the ideas of which have been clattering around inside my head for years. Plus, AGS has helped me learn to talk to girls and one day I'm sure I'll work up the nerve to finally kiss one. And I owe it all to Chris Jones.

ayyyyy.

yep, still my favorite thread on the internet

Didn't we just have a writing contest? Is it time for another one already. Sigh. Very well. I shall sharpen my pencil -- so hard to get off the monitor, by the way.

what we need is Pizazz!

Jazz hands!

You're English is fine. Better than my... um... anything that isn't English.

My cunning plan noble offer failed. But don't worry about me. I'll carry on... somehow.

Congrats to the winners!

In order to bring an end to this conflict and restore peace to this great community, I am prepared to step up and accept the terrible burden of that cup. Anything to bring Baron and Sinitrena together again. No sacrifice is too great for the cause of friendship.

Ah! I see the Moving Thread has some competition!

Happy birtdays, Dave G., Ali and strazer!

Cut and pasted for maximum b-day efficiency.

[Best Character:]

Thanks for the kind words, guys. I wasn't sure if the lube rant was one step too far or not. Glad to know that it brought a smile to your faces.

Best Character: Sinitrena's Emily, for being a believable teenager.
Best Plot: Baron
Best Atmosphere: Janosbiro
Best Setting: Baron
Best Word Choice/Style: Baron
Not My Cup of Tea, Either, BUT... : Sinitrena, for the same reasons Baron gave.

Happy birthday, Abstauber!

Ditto!

Hey there, MT. Haven't heard from you in a while. How have you been? I'm doing okay, thanks for asking. How about this weather we're having, eh?

Ponch, yeah I'm done. I'm waiting for Square. They'll be porting it to WI-U...

Talk to Icey. I hear he's got connections.

It's been a day. Are you finished with the full game yet?

I need the finished version of this game! NOW!

It's almost certain that they'll never port the game to PC, sadly. Last year I played it on my girlfriend's brother's PS3. All three of us took turns playing the game, actually. It's an amazing story. It even made my girlfriend cry in a couple of places. When we finished it, we sat around talking about the ending for an hour. A few months ago, I picked up a cheap Playstation just to have my own copy of the game. I'm on my second playthrough now and I'm finding tons of stuff I missed the first time around. If you have a couple of hundred dollars laying around, you ought to give some thought to getting a PS3 yourself and trying the game. It's one of the greatest games I have ever played. EVAR!

[THE WORDS HE SPOKE]

Okay, here is something I worked up while sitting at the airport for two and a half damn hours. Assuming I understood the rules correctly, I've set out to address something that really bothered me about the PS3 game, The Last Of Us. I love the heck out of that game, but there's one part of it that just bugs me. Joel (a middle aged survivor of a global zombie-ish apocalypse) and Ellie (a young teenaged girl) escape the ruins of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and the proceed to walk to Jackson, Wyoming -- journey of approximately 2000 miles (3200 kilometers) in just a few months. Considering that the best people on foot could hope to do under normal conditions (allowing for camping, resting, and foraging -- and zombie fighting!) is about 25 miles a day, there's almost no way it could be done by an older man and a young girl. I wanted them to find a ride. It bugged me that they never did. So this story is my attempt to shorten that trip a bit and give them more time to enjoy the scenery on their journey. Enjoy!
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THE WORDS HE SPOKE

The gas station was deserted. It had been for a long time, from the look of things. Like most everything else in this world.

“Par for the course,” Joel muttered.

Lying prone in the tall grass next to him, Ellie looked at her burly, aging protector as he peered through the scoped rifle at the buildings down the road. An “off-ramp” he had called it. Only fourteen and small for her age, Ellie felt very tiny next to him. If she thought she could get away with it, she would have inched a little bit closer to him. But they had only been traveling together a short while and he didn't like to be crowded.

“What for the what?” She kept her voice low to match his.

Stay quiet. Whatever he does, you do. That's worked so far. And so far, so good. Mostly.

“It means this situation's about what I thought it would be,” he said quietly. He was beginning to get used to explaining things to her. He didn't even seem irritated by it anymore. Most of the time, at least.

“Oh, okay. Got it.” She didn't. Not really. But she filed it away for later contemplation. She did that a lot lately now that she was traveling with him. He remembered how it was, before the outbreak. He had knowledge of the world that was long gone by the time she showed up, and he didn't mind sharing it. Most of the time, at least.

He lowered the rifle and turned his face to look at her. She instantly straightened up under his gaze â€" or as best as a girl can do when she's lying on a grassy embankment on the side of the road just inside the Ohio border on a warm summer morning in ruined America.

Gotta impress him. He's finally starting to trust me. I can't let him think I'm deadweight. Not for one fucking second.

The little pistol in her hand was proof of his trust in her. She squeezed the handle to remind herself of how far they had come together. He had given this to her. She wasn't helpless anymore. She owed him for that. Big time.

“Alright. We're gonna sneak down there, real quiet, and check it out. Understand?”

She nodded.

“We get in and out. Quick. We're just lookin' for a little food. Just enough to keep us goin' until we find a safer place to hit up for supplies. No drama, no problems. Yeah?”

She nodded again. “I'll do whatever you tell me to do, Joel. You know that.”

He nodded back. Almost smiled. “You're doin' fine, Ellie. Just keep your eyes open.”

It was the first compliment he had given her since they had buried the brothers just two days ago. The first killed by the other's hand. And then the other killed by his own hand. Joel hadn't wanted to bury them, but she had practically begged him to do it. There may have even been a few tears, if she wanted to be honest. She didn't cry over much in this world, but they had been friends, for a little while at least, and friends deserved something better than being left to rot inside the old radio tower. And if she'd had to squirt a little from her eyes to bring him around, then that was just her doing what she had to do. And it wasn't really manipulation. Not really. The tears were real. She just chose to let them flow that time instead of holding them in like she usually did. She'd even managed to use her wet eyes to coax a few good words from him as they stood over the graves.

We'd been wearing our backpacks, ready to hit the road as soon as he was done filling the dirt in over… them.

Two forms wrapped in their blankets. The blood from the gunshot wounds had seeped through the fabric. She tried very hard not to see the stains.

He had dug the graves about three feet deep and lowered them in. He wouldn't allow her to help. All she could do was stand there, wringing her hands, and watching him work. Henry and Sam went into the ground just before noon. To a good rest, she had hoped.

Why hadn't she said something different to Sam? Why did she have to tell him that she didn't believe in Heaven? Sometimes she did. Why did she have to play it all cool like that? Did she just want to appear more grown up to him? Flaunt her extra two years on this earth? Put him in his “little kid” place, somehow? What could it have hurt to tell him that, you know, maybe Heaven was real? Or at least it was a good idea.

Why didn't I think to say something like that instead?

The infection was inside him but he'd kept it to himself. He was only a kid and he needed someone more than ever on that last night and she had left him alone to go shoot the shit with Joel and Henry one more time before bed. She'd left him behind in the “kid's room” that Henry had banished him to so the grownups could talk. She was so pleased the Joel had signaled for her to sit next to him instead of leaving the room, she never even stopped to think about how Sam must have felt as he went up those steps by himself. She had left him alone up there. Left him with the wrong words echoing in his ears. Hopeless words. Cruel words.

Her words.

I'm so, so sorry, Sam.

I couldn't leave you again without saying something right... Without saying goodbye, at least. But I don't know what the fuck you're supposed to say for things like burials.

Thank God, you did, Joel.

The words had been simple and delivered almost by rote. He only stumbled in a few places, like he was trying to remember what to say. Out of practice, it seemed to her. The words were an old memory that he didn't want to dredge up again. Joel wasn't much for rituals anymore. But he did it this one time, just for her. She owed him for that too.

How many people have you buried, Joel? Were they your friends? Your family? Your hunter buddies? Your victims? How many times have you said those words? And how long has it been since you stopped saying them? You didn't say anything for Tess when we left her behind too. But maybe it's because there wasn't time? I hope that's all it was.

She had wanted to ask him all day yesterday and today about the woman she'd so briefly known, but Tess was off limits. He'd been crystal clear about that. She'd risked it once before, just for a moment while they were in Lincoln with Bill. Joel hadn't yelled at her for doing it, but she didn't want to press her luck again. Not for a while, anyway.

She had bowed her head when Joel began to speak over the graves of their friends. She didn't know if he had or not. She hadn't dared to open her eyes while he was speaking. She reached out and held his hand for the half a minute or so that it took. He had been kind enough to let her. She wouldn't forget it.

“All right now, Ellie…”

He wasn't looking at her anymore, but he was speaking to her again. She snapped back to the here and now. Hopefully, he hadn't noticed her drifting for a moment there.

“No tellin' what we might run into down there once we get off this interstate.”

“I-70.”

She had to show him she had been paying attention. She wasn't deadweight. She wasn't.

“That's right, Ellie. I-70. And that service station down there is pretty remote. Nothing too near it. So if we play this right, we can dash down there â€" carefully,” he added for emphasis. “Pick up a few things and get back up here and on our way again. But we gotta be quick. You ready?”

Don't fuck this up, Ellie. Do good! Do good and he won't leave you like the others have. It can be different this time.

She squeezed the pistol's grip again, drawing strength from it.

“Totally.”

“All right, then. Let's go, kid. Carefully. And try to stay clear of those broken down cars over there on the ramp. Just in case.”

“Right behind you, Joel.”

They dashed down the grassy bank and onto the concrete and asphalt, moving in the way that he had taught her. One person moves to cover, the other person hangs back and keeps an eye on things. Then catch up to the first person and do it again. Easy. She followed his tracks exactly when he signaled her to come to him and then kept her pistol gripped in both hands, ready for action, covering him while he ran to the next bit of cover he had picked out ahead. From the guardrail… to the light post… to the support column… to… whatever that weird gray box on the edge of the curb was.

Stay low. Move fast.

He always knows where to go. Stick close. He'll get us through this, no problem.

In no time at all, they had reached the edge of the service station parking lot. Only a couple of rusted cars occupied the cracked, asphalt lot. A few more were rusting away in the street across from it. One looked like it had been on fire once. Grass was slowly reclaiming this place, just like everywhere else. A pretty bunch of purple flowers were growing next to the front tire of a small, gold car.

There were two buildings. A large one and a smaller one behind that looked like a shed of some sort. The giant sign that marked the boundary of the parking lot was an empty frame bordered with shards of faded white plastic. She wondered what it had looked like in the past, before everything got broken. Nice, probably. And clean.

Wish we still had a ride. Things were easier with that truck. Fucking hunters. They're dead now and the more I think about it, the less that bothers me. And it not bothering me is starting to bother me a little. Fuck, this is complicated.

“Okay. Let's move up to the front door. Have a look-see.”

“Right.” She watched as he jogged to a trash drum near the big windows of the main building and crouched down.

“Look-see.” He's always using words like that. “Reckon,” “rowdy,” “gander.” That's just how they talk in Texas, I guess.

She found his vocabulary endearing. The words were cute, even when spoken in his gruff baritone.  But she was afraid to start using them herself.

What if he thought I was mocking him? Can't risk it. No matter how much I'm dying to use “gander” in a sentence, I need him to like me. If he likes me, he'll keep taking care of me. Maybe even after we get to Wyoming. Maybe he'll ask me to stick around. A girl can dream, after all.

He signaled to her and she ran fast, staying low. She reached his position quickly and pressed herself against the wall next to him.

“I tried to get a good look on my way over. I didn't see anyone inside,” she hissed, trying to keep her voice as low as possible.

Good. Smart. Be useful to him. And make sure he knows it!

“Me neither,” he whispered. “Looks like this place is empty. Let's find out for sure. Check the door. I'll cover you.”

“Just say when.”

He readied his shotgun and popped up, pointing it into the store. She rushed to the door.

All the windows in the frame and around it were broken. The door was warped so badly, it would never close again. From the looks of it, someone had hooked a chain to it and pulled it open with a truck or something. Deep scrapes in the floor tiles indicated that something very heavy had been dragged out of here years ago.

“Door's open!” Too far away from him to whisper now.

“I go in first, Ellie!”

She wanted to protest but he was already on the move, his shotgun sweeping the entire storefront as he went.

I could do this! Why won't he give me a chance?

Inside now, moving fast. She stuck close and covered his blind side. They swept through the building. Checking corners, looking behind counters, inside the long drink fridge, the manager's office, the small storeroom. Fast but careful. She mimicked him, doing it just like he had taught her.

No one. Empty.

“All right, kid. I think it's clear in here. Start looking for supplies while I check the restrooms.”

“I'm coming with you!”

He shot her a withering look and she did her best not to shy away from it.

“But what if there's trouble?” she asked, trying to sound more forceful than she felt.

“Don't you worry about me. See what you can find in here.”

She nodded half-heartedly, obeying. He was through the door and gone around the side of the building in a flash. She looked at the pistol in her hand.

You've trusted me this much. Why can't you trust me a little more? I can be valuable to you, damn it. I'm not a fucking baby.

She sighed audibly, hoping that he wouldn't be able to hear her, and began to check the usual places. But there was no point. This place was picked clean. Years ago, from the looks of it. Some old candy wrappers. A few empty soda cans. Wadded up old wrappers and a sack from some place called Jack In The Box â€" they were open all night, apparently. A few tattered, old plastic grocery bags drifted slowly around on the floor near the broken front windows. There were old bullet holes in the wall above the soda machine and the scratch-off lottery ticket case. Another bullet hole marred the inside of the doorframe. Somebody had been firing out while several other somebodies had been firing in. The holes were all very old and it looked like spiders had moved into a couple of them. She shied away from them when she noticed this.

You guys can keep your holes. Creepy little fucks.

Walking the inside of the short food idles, idly scratching off a few lottery tickets; she noticed several spent, sea green shotgun shells on the floor near the empty potato chip rack. They weren't faded out by the sun like everything else in here. She picked one up and sniffed it. The acrid smell of gunpowder, faint but unmistakable.

Fresh or fresh-ish, at least. Somebody's been in here very recently. Maybe yesterday? Joel needs to know.

She spied two unspent shells that had rolled under the edge of a display stand that once held candy. There was a faded sale sign held in place by ancient, yellowed tape that said ‘King-sized! Two for three dollars. This weekend only!'

“Wish I had three dollars to buy some candy… and some fucking candy to buy would be nice too.”

Who am I kidding? I wouldn't buy it. I'd just swipe some and hope to get away with it.

She crouched down and pocketed the pair of good shells. Maybe Joel could use them.

She looked around one more time. Just to make sure she hadn't missed anything. A sign on the wall told her that this was the Shell Oil Station. Pennzoil was on sale by the quart this week, gasoline was only $3.39 a gallon, and if she signed up for a credit card today, she would get a free lube job â€" 100% complete and thorough! â€"  the next time she visited a Jiffy Lube (also owned by the Shell Oil Company).

“What the hell is a credit card?” she asked no one in particular.

And what the fuck was a Jiffy Lube? She'd heard of Jiffy Pop. It was tasty popcorn. They'd given it to the students as a rare Fourth of July treat back when she was about nine or ten. They'd sat them down in the auditorium of the orphanage and served them grape Kool-aid and dry popcorn while they sang songs about how much they loved America. Then they'd watched that Chuck Norris movie, Invasion USA. It had been pretty awesome. There were explosions, weird boats driven by giant fans skimming along the swamps, loads of karate kicks, and the bad guy went around shooting everyone in the balls.

That movie was so fucking cool. Gotta ask Joel if he's seen it. I'll bet it's exactly the kind of movie he likes.

I wonder if he's ever shot anybody in the balls? Probably. Ouch. Just thinking about that makes the balls I don't even have hurt like hell. Yeeesh.

She pulled off a faded application from the credit card display and studied it. It wanted her to fill out all kinds of information. Most of the things it was asking for meant nothing to her at all. Previous residence? Referrals? Annual income? SSN? DLN? Two phone numbers? E-mail address? She could also apply online. Maybe they did all the work for you if did it that way?

Sheesh. Why would anyone want one of these things if they made it this hard to get one? Probably so no one could use the coupon. Cheap fucks.

The coupon itself was printed on the bottom of the form and she found that much easier to understand. Come in to Jiffy Lube, get lubed up for free. No service charge. No annual fee. No commitments. Simple as that. Sounded like a good deal, really. Especially if you needed some lubing and you were poor. She knew about lube, of course. Well, sort of. She'd heard the older girls at the orphanage talking about it and had a pretty good idea what it was for. Kind of. Something about your butt, she was pretty sure of that part.

Heck, I've never been lubed up in my life. I wonder what it's like? Messy, I bet. Greasy. But probably a lot of fun too. I don't know how it works, exactly, but the older girls talked about it like it was a pretty damn good time. And this guy in the picture looks very happy about his time spent at Jiffy Lube. Look at that smile! And there doesn't seem to be an age requirement. Everybody's welcome at Jiffy Lube, I guess. Bring the whole family. Eat all the corn you want and come on down to see us.

I wonder if they provided paper towels and soap? Or did you have to bring your own? They're not charging, you anything, so I'd bet you had to bring your own stuff. Still, sounds like a great deal. And, man, I bet pooping would be a breeze for, like, a whole month after a trip to the ol' Jiffy Lube.

She groaned in disappointment as she read the fine print on the coupon.

Fuck. This coupon expired twenty years ago. Damn it. I've missed out on so many things.

She pocketed the coupon anyway and pondered some of the interesting questions that had been raised, now that she gave it a little thought.

First and foremost, why on earth would Jiffy Pop get into the lube business? Lube? And popcorn? Together? Was there money in that sort of thing once upon a time? Did they use the lube to pop the corn? Like cooking oil? Or did you put the lube on the corn… For some… other… reason? Where would you want to put greasy kernels of popcorn anyway? And why? She couldn't make those two things fit together in her head, no matter how hard she tried.

And you'd think the lube would help!

She giggled at her own joke and thought about asking Joel but decided to save it for later.

From behind the store, she heard a dull thump. She ran to the side window, gun ready.

“JOEL?”

His voice came from around the side “I'm fine. Men's room door was locked. I had to open it.”

By kicking it in, no doubt. Kicking in doors was one of Joel's favorite things to do. Why pry it open or learn to use lock picks when you could just kick the shit out of stuff.

Can't wait until I'm big enough to do cool stuff like that. Come on, bones! Grow already! And boobs, you need to get it in gear too. That's an order!

She took one more look around the place, lingering again on the empty candy rack. Nothing more to see in here. She hopped through the window frame and went around to join him.

She was almost at the corner when he heard another dull thump.

“Women's room locked too?” she called out.

Nothing. She trotted around the corner, raising her gun.

There was an old red motorcycle back here. It must have been fancy once upon a time. It looked sleek, like something she might see in one of the comic books she had stuffed in her backpack. A helmet that matched the color of the bike hung from one of the handlebars. Tantalizing items poked out of the open compartments by the back tires. The seat wasn't dusty at all. Had someone driven it here?

Holy fuck! Does this thing still run?

She looked about for Joel, to tell him of her amazing discovery (and also to share the good news about the twenty five dollars she'd won on the scratch-off). She found him just a few feet away, standing rock still and pointing his revolver into the open doorway of the women's room.

“Infected?” she asked, moving to close the gap to him.

“Ellie! Stay back!” He barked, never even looking at her.

“What? What's wrong?” She slowed her pace but continued to move in his direction.

She heard something. A woman's voice! It was coming from somewhere inside the small bathroom. Ellie could hear it now, but couldn't make out what she was saying.

“Joel?” Worried now.

Please, no. Please tell me you're not holding someone up, Joel. We're not that hungry. Don't do anything bad. Please. I don't want to see you that way. We don't need her bike. I can walk to Wyoming if I have to.

”Goddammit, Ellie! Stay the fuck back, I said!” He froze her in place with his voice.

Okay. Okay. I'll do whatever you say. Don't be mad. I'm just trying to help. I just want us to do the right thing here.

The woman was a few feet inside from the doorway. Ellie could see her as a shadow almost swallowed up by the deeper shadows around her.

Infected? No. Can't be. Infected people don't talk. They never talk! I know!

The woman's head was lowered meekly and she was speaking softly. It sounded like she was on the edge of tears.

What the fuck is she saying?

Please don't rob her, Joel. She's scared. Just let her go. Please. I'd be scared to. I don't want us to do this. This isn't us, Joel. It isn't us!

“Joel?” Ellie's voice was very soft. “Let her go. Okay? Please?”

“Please.” The woman's voice carried to her. Soft. Wet. Thick. Barely a word.

Oh, God. She's so scared. Please just let her go, Joel. Please.

“I'm sorry,” he said flatly, the way he did when he had spoken to the few hunters who had fruitlessly begged for their lives three days ago. He wasn't saying it to Ellie.

He pulled the trigger and the woman flew backwards, illuminated in the flash of the muzzle light.

“JOEL!”

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And that's the longest entry I've ever written for this contest. Thank you, delayed flights. Note also that this marks my first foray into the strange world of "FanFic." Hope you enjoyed it. If you get the chance, give the game a try. It's amazing.