For every death, there must be a ceremony. It is the trademark of 
intellegent life to reflect on things not only by their own presence, but also 
by the presence of their opposite. Many find that without a respect for the 
dead, they start to lose an appreciation for the living, a very dangerous 
tendency in certain lines of work. For every death, if only to hold the rest of 
us from each other's throats, there must be a ceremony.

       Judas Iscariot was at least put in a pauper's grave.

       "I was starting to doubt if that bastard would die." In the darkness of 
the bar, a figure rolled together his cigerette. Sure, he could buy a pack, but 
being a shopkeeper gave you an appreciation for the custom touch. "Figured he 
would just keep sucking down more and more soul `til Gehenna."

       Bao Liu sipped his drink. "It's entirely possible that was his plan. The 
Shop, Pochi, informs me that Hoomas died a violent death."

       "But if no other shopkeepers knew he was here, then what if he was struck 
down by an enemy of the shops?!" The third, gravelly voice echoed with 
impatience and anger. "We must investigate the circumstances of death!"

       A quick flicker of flame revealed a careworn face haloed with curly hair. 
But just as quickly, the face disappeared into the smoke of the cigerette. "Keep 
it down, will you? `Side, you shouldn't talk about these things until after the 
body is in the ground proper. Not a proper wake, otherwise."

       "But his body must already be interned."

       "S'not without a proper wake."

       "Foolish wordplay!"

       "Please." Liu asked his companions. "For these evening, we are not 
competitors. We have come to drink our fill of memories."

       The third mourner bowed his head in deference. "My apologies, Bao Liu. I 
did not mean to offend your grief with my worries. I understand you and Rinku 
were...close."

       The smoking figure knocked the ash from his coughing nail and chuckled 
sardonically.

       Liu sipped his drink a second time. His lips twisted in bitterness. "The 
quicker we drink our fill of Rinku Hoomas memories, the sooner we can piss them 
out in the morning and forgot all this."

       "I see."

       "Bloody poetics, that is, wisdom o' the ages."

       If only, Liu mused, Hoomas did not leave me such a large cup.

**************************************************** 

ONE OF THOSE SHOPS 

An Improfanfic Production Started 
By Farsan de Arnibia 
Written by: Nicholas Callahan

Branch C - Chapter 7: Ceremonial relationship

**************************************************** 

       "When they left the Hammam, the Moor took Aladdin to the bazaar again and 
showed him how people traded at the market, buying and selling and he said, `My 
son, it's important for you to become familiar with the people here, especially 
the merchants, so that you can learn their business, now that you are one of 
them.'"

					-Aladdin and the Magic Lamp

       A doorbell rent the early morning quiet of the Masa apartment. Itoe found 
herself roused from her coffee cup medition. She wondered who it could be: her 
boyfriend never arrived this early and Miro's friends never bothered straining 
themselves on actual stairs. Mumbling through her early morning haze, the Masa 
matriach peered through the peephole.

       An immaculately dressed Chinese man (trenchcoat and fedora included) 
stood in the hallway, standing with a professional ease. From the classic cut of 
his trenchcoat to the precise trimming of his beard to vague pointed quality of 
his features to his aura of being the only person who ever knew exactly where he 
was, Bao Liu possibly made Itoe's list of the most unreal people to live, 
assuming she kept one in the first place. He had no hint about him of knowing 
she was looking at him, yet he leaned down to the peephole and spoke.

       "Mrs. Masa, is Young Miro ready to go?"

       That caused Itoe to blink. Slowly, cautiously, she turned the deadbolt 
and trusted the chain to protect her. "Who-who are you? A friend of Miro?"

       "Friend? Well, I suppose not." Liu's eyes rolled upward as only those of 
a woolgathering man can. "To speak safely, I suppose I am his business 
associate, starting yesterday."

       Itoe's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Miro has a job? He didn't tell me."

       Liu raised an eyebrow. "He didn't? Well, I can tell he likes to keep to 
himself, but to not speak regularly with his own mother...If you don't believe 
me, go get him. That will clear the matter up quite easily."

       Itoe nodded in agreement and closed the door. Still mumbling to herself, 
this time about Miro and strange co-workers and half believing that he wouldn't 
tell her if he got a job, she tottered into Miro's room. Her utter failure of a 
son was sprawled on his mattress, tangled up in the sheets after what had 
apparently been a restless night. Itoe found she didn't have the energy to 
scream him awake and instead opted to softly, but firmly apply brother heel to 
sister gut.

       "Ack! What the-Aghk!"

       "Get up, bum." Itoe gave another application of disclipined motherly 
concern. And she kicked him again, too. "Some nutjob's at the door, claiming to 
be your co-worker. Did you get a job and not tell me?!"

       In a more reasonable universe, Miro would have protested that he never 
got a job and tried to burrow to safetly within the sheets. But Miro had just 
become the proprieter of a talking hole in casuality and reason enjoyed a 
sabaticle. So he mutely acquised to being dragged from bed and pulled to the 
doorway to inspect the presence of Bao Liu. Oh, if only he had opened his mouth, 
if only he spoke up before reaching the door...how different the universe would 
be, how much a change our little decisions here and there can and will make.

       But we've already been down that path, twice before. And besides, in a 
more reasonable universe, we wouldn't have gotten to see the look on Miro's 
face. Somewhere between a duck, an allegator, and a lightbulb. Hard to explain.

       Bao Liu had been around the block at least a few times. He played along 
with Miro's surprise without losing an ounce of face. Mostly, he did this by 
looking constapated and tapping his watch. "Yes, Miro, it's that late! You're 
not even dressed yet!"

       Maybe there was something mystical about how he did it, maybe experience 
has its benefits, but somehow Liu simple motions not only held a lot of 
induendo, but also got their meaning through to a very confused Miro. They said, 
to paraphrase, "Yes, it's me. You remember me, don't you? I bet you also 
remember that your shop can't protect you now. Just play along and trust me, 
nothing bad has to happen."

       Something to that extent.

       Miro blinked and got into the act. "I'm...I'm sorry, Mr. Liu. Just...just 
gimme a moment." With that, he pulled free of his mother and dashed back to his 
room. A bewildered Itoe watched him leave and turned back to Liu.

       "I guess...I'm sorry, Mr. Liu, was it? Miro really didn't tell me about 
this. You're perfectly welcome to come by anytime. I mean, a senior worker, so 
concerned about my Miro that you actually came by to wake him up, it's so 
thoughtful of you." A faint look of hope bloomed on Itoe's face. "What, exactly, 
does Miro do?"

       Bao Liu smiled. "We're both in sales."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

       "What is wrong with you?!" Miro stormed after Bao Liu, coming down the 
building stairs in clothes much more suited to starting the day. "I thought we 
settled this already! Really, I'm sorry about what Pochi did, I'll never let him 
do something like that again, but it's not like I owe you some kind of debt!"

       Liu tightened his mouth in disapproval. "Che. Are those the best clothes 
you have? The fashions of youth, sometimes..."

       "Thank you very much, but I already have a mother." Miro's eye twitched. 
He stomped past Liu. "Geez, the sun's not even up yet..."

       "I can see it already half way over the horizon." Liu cocked his head in 
curiousity.

       "Halfway too little, if you ask me." Miro jammed his hands in his 
pockets. "Look, just tell me what you want and-"

       Liu yanked off the hat of his head and swatted Miro in the small of the 
back with it. "Stand up straight, boy! You are one of the shopkeepers, now. You 
can afford some iron in your spine."

       Miro froze in mid-step. His mouth worked silently in indignation. This 
was an experience completely new to him. Sure, his mothered yelled at him and 
had actually just kicked him out of bed, but that was different. When one is 
swatted, by someone versed in the technique, a blow that doesn't even hurt can 
be so utterly demoralizing that...

       Just as Miro finally got his mind formulating a response, Liu spun around 
and practically shoved his hat in Miro's face. "I don't bother trying to be 
smartassed about. It's hard to listen when you're trying to be clever."

       Liu replaced his hat and headed for the door, turning his back on Miro. 
Miro knew, absolutely knew, that he had a choice here. He ought to! No one 
insults you and then treats you with such disregard and expects you to follow 
without question. It was like of those, you know, old martial arts movies or 
something.

       Exactly like them.

       "Hey. Hey! Hey, no!" Miro pointed at the retreating Liu accusingly. "I 
don't know what you've got in mind, Bao, but it's nothing I'm going along with. 
We made our deal, fair and square. I'm not just going to suddenly play 
grasshopper for you old foggy power trip! So, just keep walking and don't bother 
dragging me out of bed again." There. That should tell him.

       Liu stopped in mid-step. He rotated his head slightly, fixing a baleful 
glance at Miro. A hint of the thinist smiles creeped up his cheek. "I saw a shop 
eats its owner once.
	
       "Huh?"

       "Eat isn't the best term, I guess. More like tore him apart." Liu 
continued. "Tore him into shreds. Absorbed his component matter into its matrix, 
then used his very flesh to create the order they were filling. I never found 
out why and even how and I've never found a similar case. The strangest part 
was, the poor fellow seemed content about it." The older man shrugged. "And 
that's not the half of things I've seen."

       He winked at Miro and stepped out the door. A moment later, a very 
frustrated, flustered, and hopelessly scared Miro followed suit.

----------------------------------------

       It would be wrong to say an impecible man walked down the street. True, 
the figure well exceded all Japanese's standards of handsome civility and 
organized success. But the man part was way off center. When this impecible 
figure came down the sidewalk, one could like moving five blocks to the left, 
just to give it all the room its existance deserves.

       The figure that merely took the impression of a man stopped in front of 
Just What You Need. Looking over the street, he took note of The Mysticism and 
Power of Ancient China, but after producing and inspecting a few papers from its 
briefcase, it nodded and paid the other shop no more mind. Turning its attention 
back to Just What You Need, he walked through the door.

       Yes, Miro wasn't there yet. Yes, the door had been deadbolted. But such a 
being wouldn't care about minor details like that. It desired entrance and the 
door swung back against its hindges, completely ignoring the fact that the locks 
gave no resistance at all, not requiring the smallest bit of destruction or 
manhandling. Such a being was, at least, polite.

       "Hello?"

       The Shop shivered around it. It made an impreceptable sign of 
displeasure. It didn't like to think of itself as cruel. Instead of pressing the 
issue, it produced yet more papers and gave them a quick lookover.

       "This three-dimensional curvature registured the recent inclusion of new 
matter. Have you resumed operations?"

       /There's another shop, across the street!/ Pochi blurted out. /Check it! 
It could be-/

       "I'm merely asking." The figure interrupted. "You were given free license 
to operate here. You've not sinned."

       /Then-then why...?/

       The figure arched an eyebrow. "There are procedures."

       /Oh, well, yes, there are, but I've only been in service for such a 
little time and.../ Pochi trailed off.

       "You shouldn't be so shy. Only sinners have reason to dodge the 
procedures." The figure carefully set its briefcase down and ritualistically 
extended its arms. Its hands slammed together with a muted thunderclap. A 
rectangle opened in midair and out came a filing drawer, zooming open. The 
figure flawlessly caught it and began to finger through. "So, tell me, what's 
the oldest records in here after Hoomas' death?"

-----------------------------------

       The Book.

       "Should I," Theodore pondered aloud. "Be just thinking of it as 'The 
Book'? I mean, it has a title right there."

       "Yeah, but all that jargon sounds cheesy. Like it came from an RPG or 
something."

       "And just calling it 'The Book' sounds like...?"

       "A really cool American comic."

       "Right." Theodore was less than convinced. But the morning was too good 
to argue with Kimihiko. "Do you think Miro has his store open yet?"

       "I don't know." Kimihiko mused. "Does Miro even get up this early?"

       "Sure. His mom usually tosses him out by ten, anyway. Ah, well, let's 
give him some time. Yesterday must've tired him out."

       Kimihiko nodded. "Good point. All that magic stuff almost overwhelmed me. 
And Miro's right in the center of it."

       "So," Theodure fingered his book. "Any idea what you're going try to get 
from there?"

       Kimihiko smiled impishly. "Whatever it's got. There's little evidence one 
can go wrong there."

       "I don't know." Theodore warned. "Rikura says she was thinking about 
lembas when the vending machine showed up. And I was wondering about how to get 
magic..."

       "So, I should think really hard about obedient prismatic dragons when I 
go there?" Kimihiko shot back with complete honesty

       "Um...how 'bout we walk on it?"

       And so the two trod the streets into Downtown Tokyo. And DESTINY!

       But mostly Downtown Tokyo.

-----------------------------------

       "I like my coffee with milk, but no sugar. Just make it black if they 
have that artificial cream."

       "I think you're misunderstadning our relatio-"

       Liu's hat clipped Miro's ear. Grumbling but inexplicably complacent, Miro 
stomped off to the café counter as Liu picked out a good seat. He put his hat 
down on the table and straightened his suit, as Miro returned with two steaming 
styrofoam cups. Liu raised an eyebrow.

       "Did I say get one for yourself?"

       Miro started to mouth something obscene, but Liu reached for his hat. 
Instead, the boy slid his cup over to the side of the table. He slumped over the 
tabletop and stared up Bao Liu. "Pretty obviously, I'm not here for the company. 
What is it you want to tell me?"

       Liu sipped his coffee. "That's hardly the proper way to request a 
lession."

       Parts of Miro's upper lip twitched dangerously. He sat up straight and 
dredged the words out of himself. "Could you be so kind as to instruct me in the 
lession you have in mind...teacher."

       With an overdramatic sigh, Liu set his coffee down. "Very well, my 
impatient pupil-" ("That sick jerk is enjoying this!" Miro didn't scream.) "-I 
wish to give you instruction concerning what it means to be a shopkeeper. 
Although you have been in our ranks for about a day, you are very close to 
making many dangerous mistakes."

       "If this is about the Buddha-"

       "The Jade Buddha is it's own matter." Liu stopped him. "The more general 
picture ought to be explain now. What has your shop told you about its nature?"

       Miro thought about it.

       "Not much, I guess, but we haven't had a real long discussion on it yet. 
All I know is, the shops travel through dimensions and sell people the things 
they desire to receive energy from the Cycle of Faith. It's sorta how they feed. 
They take in shopkeepers so they can know what to sell people. In return, they 
give shopkeepers immortality and protect them."

       "That is all true." Liu nodded. "Did...Pochi happen to mention where the 
shops came from?"

       "Um..." A worried-look crossed Miro's face. "No, he hasn't."

       Liu waved his hand reassuring. "I wouldn't fret on it. Many of us keepers 
never learned this for a while. What I tell you now, I tell you because I wish I 
had known it when I was in your position.

       "What you much first understand that the shops exist in ways we can't 
concieve. We, mortals, barely wade through the surface of reality. We have 
breached the threshold of possible experiences by only a few degrees. The shops, 
however, see what we see not only in terms of time and space, but a million 
other ways as well. They are like the sandlion; it hides most of its true form 
beneath the ground and only exposes the parts needed to feed."

       "Thanks for the mental image." Miro mumbled.

       The older man pursed his lips. "Perhaps that was not the best way of 
putting it. No one likes to think of themselves as sitting in the mouth of the 
beast. But in nature, we do find a proper relationship to describe it all. 
Symbiotic, I believe you call it on this world? Two beings use each other's 
particular talents for their own good."

       "Yeah, wait, Pochi did mention that bit." Miro said. "He said some 
keepers use the shops for their own ends. I haven't thought about it a lot, but 
maybe there's something I could do while I-"

       "Stop!" Liu's gaze hardened. "This is exactly why I wanted to speak of 
this with you. I can already see it in your eyes; you tread the same path as 
Rinku Hoomas. You may think, perhaps, that you help the shop do whatever it 
wants and it helps you do whatever you want? Having nothing in your life but 
constant work for another and one fulfilled desire after another will drive you 
both mad. I've seen Hells that work on that principle."

       Miro slunked back in his chair. "Oh...but, what do you mean, then?"

       Liu smiled and picked up his coffee. "The time drags on. We best both get 
to our shops, before the better part of this morning turns the corner."

-----------------------------------

       A metal bar ploughed into a clump of human flesh.

       The sound of this is the type that freezes a person in their tracks. The 
dry smack, like you just punched clay; that faint, implied ringing, like a bee 
is close by. Imagination fills in the rest of the details pretty fast.

       Theodore spun on his heels. It came from close by, maybe within one or 
two blocks. Unbidden, it occurred to him, it he ran, maybe in a two or three 
minutes he could...

       Two desperate hands gripped his arm. He looked over his shoulder to see 
Kimihiko's eyes, wide with surprise and fright. He didn't realize he had started 
towards the sound.

       "What are you doing?" She hissed.

       It took a few seconds for his mind to process this. Did he know what he 
was doing? Everything just seemed to be a kneejerk and...and there was a 
familiar weight in his breast-pcoket. Glibly, he pulled out the book and shook 
it in his free hand. Then he yanked his arm free, as if that was all the answer 
he needed.

       Kimihiko never expected this, so the distance between them widened 
quickly. His fingers found the much-reviewed page automatically. His pounding 
steps pushed the anticipating into a blossoming heat that rushed through his 
head. The words jumped and jived in his mouth, doing everything except rolling 
off his tongue. But enough was enough.

       The power hit him like a brick to the back of the head. He rounded the 
corner half-transformed and swurved against the ally wall, dragging his shoulder 
across the brick. Fighting the instinct to explode, he forced his heels into the 
ground and tried to stand up straight. Nearby trashcans and fire escapes 
sparkled and crackled with his expanding presence. The finishing touches of a 
demon drippled down over his feature as his knees buckled and quivered. Theodore 
screamed at the top of his lungs, desperate for dramatics, frustrated at the 
aparent loss of strength rather than the addition.

       A quiet moment nodded and passed on through the ally. The victim, who 
shall henceforth be unimportant to this particular narrative, moaned and drooled 
blood while he tried to comfort his broken-arm. The two ski-masked attackers 
stared in an innocent shock. The closer one with scuffed boot heels tentatively 
raised his fists. The one with the lead pipe swore in an unenthusiastic way. 
Theodore suddenly lost a lot of passion.

       Just as quickly, normal action resumed. Scuffed-heels charged foreward 
and revved his twin fists for a nasty series of hooks and jabs. Theodore did 
something soundless with his throat and let his body drop into the kind of 
crouch-crawl he had seen on TV. With no idea what he was planning to do, he made 
an action for the sake of action and blindly grabbed the thug's love handles as 
the first few punches experimented with where his head had been.

       Gold-scalled hands flexed with all their might and nerves fired like an 
old rifle. A small thunderstorm ran up the man's body.  His eyes rolled 
backwards and his voice jumped like he was fourteen. Theodure immediately let go 
and the man went slack with muscular relief. He heaved against the dead weight 
and sent the unconscious thug flailing against the wall, smocking hair and all.

       Now, he though, that wasn't so hard. The second thug clipped him in the 
temple with the aforementioned lead pipe.

       One eye went white while the other insisted the world was going upside 
down. Theodore caught himself mid-spin in time to feel his own blood tumble down 
his cheek. Then the pipe slammed against the broadside of his shoulders and his 
spin suggested they talk about this later. A motion came back that the 
suggestion would be considered when the pipe drove across his waist and he slid 
off it and onto the ground. Theodore looked up in time to see the pipe fly into 
his face. Lacking options, he bit it.

       The sixth-of-an-inch thick lead went all taffy-like between oni teeth. 
The same ol' nerves flared up again. The pain inspired the thug to let go, but 
his frying flesh was already glued in its grip. Instead, he had no choice but to 
stand by idly as his muscles went numb with voltage. Theodore tried to pull away 
in mercy, but his body was too beaten and already too tired to listen. Seconds 
and maybe a minute ticked away.

       With a final burst of willpower, he bit through the pipe and yanked his 
lips away. He spit the remaining lead out in disgust and just sat, just 
crouched, waiting for something to make sense. He thoughts focused as he watched 
with detached horror his blood pooling the ground. The man tipped over, but the 
implications were lost to him.

       It was Kimihiko, then, who had the dubious honor of realization when she 
raced into the ally in the next moment. Theodore killed his first man.

------------------------------------

       Miro kicked a pepple. It didn't make him feel better, but it didn't help 
the pepple, so everything was fair. He and Liu walked from the coffee shop at a 
leiserly (slow) pace with a casual (sadistic) air that Liu obviously enjoyed.

       "You're wondering about what I just told you."

       "I can't say the ambiguity is helping my mood."

       Liu lowered his head and snickered. "I told you early that I once saw a 
shop eat its shopkeeper, yes?"

       "Yes." Miro narrowed his eyes.

       "I said that to scare you into coming along. I bit nasty of me, I'll 
concede." Liu nodded. "But there's something you could learn from it. I don't 
know the keeper or the shop, and I don't know why it happened, like I said. I 
witnessed it out of pure coincidence. I passed by his shop one day, while 
sharing a world. The walls and floors flowed like water and tore his limbs and 
organs in all direction. A few seconds later, a blood drench suit of army 
tumbled out of the ceiling. That was that.

       "I never found out the circumstances surrounding that horror, nor the 
circumstances of a thousand others. I've seen too much terror and too much 
wonder in the multiverse to tell one from the other. Half the people I meet use 
a logic that is beyond me and the other half hardly employs logic at all. Every 
damn person in the multiverse experiences this in ways and on many scales 
everyday. Something beyond humans made all this and damned if humanity will ever 
figure it all out."

       Miro couldn't help but smirk. "But you think you've got a handle on 
this?"

       "I have found my ways." Liu shrugged. "I've found the way that works best 
for me is stability. Know what you do, do what you know, sell what's familiar. I 
mean, look at me. I've visited the courts of the Maharajahs of the stars, I've 
taken fairies to bed, I've explained refiguration to dragons. But what do I 
sell? The antiques and artifacts of my homeland, what you call China. How much 
sense does that really make? In some places, your past is someone's present and 
my "antiques" are rusted copies of current endeavors. In others, China never was 
and a piece laden with significance becomes a pretty lump of metal and stone. 
But it's kept me sane and kept me from some major mistakes."

       "What kind of major mistakes?" Miro asked.

       "Thinking I'm God. Thinking I'm somehow above the rest."

       "Oh. I guess Rinku made those mistakes, is your point." Liu gave a single 
nod. Miro slumped. "But what if I'm not planning to jump out of the world? What 
if I just sold around here, never moved the shop?"

       Li shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. A move in inevitable. A 
shop may need to hunt new markets for energy. A diety may want you gone. A 
wanderlust might sieze you. Once you made the bond, you gave up a simple life."

       "Check. Stability." Miro's lips tightened. "But Hell, what can I sell 
that's familiar to me? All I know is economics and games. And there's not much 
around in my life that makes for special wares. If anything, I could get charged 
with ripping off merchandise."

       "Games?" Liu raised an eyebrow. "What is so wrong about games? There are 
plenty of men who make their livelihood from games. Gamemasters are hardly 
looked down upon in the right places."

       "Sure, sure, take my exciting new interdimensional life and waste it on 
games all over again." Mir laughed sardonically. Shaking his head, he stopped 
and extended his hand to Liu. "Well, anyway, thanks for the advice. It good to 
think about these things, I guess, even if I was a bit of a jerk about hearing 
them. I never would have pegged you to help me."

       Liu kept on walking without even looking at Miro's hand. "There are 
already enough irresponsible fools in the universe. It makes my life easier to 
have one less."

---------------------------------

       Theodore's body slumped akwardly in Kimihiko's arms. She could see Miro's 
shop up ahead. She kept going, frantic with the idea of a friend who just 
committed manslaughter and desperately needed some medical attention. This kind 
of thing only happened in the movies, she tried to tell reality, only in the 
movies...

       She took a quick look down at Theodore. The transformation had nearly 
worn off. The last details of Oni form poked out of odd spots all over his body, 
while her torn shirtsleave turned a deeper and deeper crimson around his 
forehead. Screw it, one part of her thought, she might as well ask Spielberg for 
a close-up.

       Just get to Miro's shop, she repeated to herself. Miro's shop is 
obviously magical. Of course it would have something to heal Theodore. Maybe 
something to bring back the dead. Or turn back time. Or just wish it all away. 
Then the dead body could go back to the movies and Theodore wouldn't even know 
he did anything and everything can just be the way it was before.

       She honestly believed this. But then she came through the door and was 
met with a bright burst of light.

	"I'm afraid this could be used as evidence."

       Kimihiko stared in shock as a man who had the presence of obviously not 
being a man, surrounded by open file folders and sitting next to a file draw 
open in mid-air, put a polaroid camera back in his briefcase.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

       Author's Notes:

       I just proofed this thing before sending it in. No way it can be that 
short. I feel impotent.

       Augh. I just signed up for this so I'd have something to do during 
Christmas break. I get around to writing during the first week of school. 
Strange, no? I need to sleep more. Bad Inuyasha, tempting me with cheesy dubbing 
and predictable plots! Bad!

       Anywho...um...here it is. Somebody write more. Seriously. Don't make me 
cry and turn into a goth baby. Neither of us would like that.

-Nick Callahan
cruton@juno.com
1/22/04