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17:02, 28th March 2024 (GMT+0)

Jack Sharpe.

Posted by Editor-in-ChiefFor group 0
Editor-in-Chief
GM, 21 posts
Sat 16 Nov 2019
at 04:04
  • msg #1

Jack Sharpe

"We're Maybe Homes!"

"Marcy Holmes baby."  The mother of the little kid who had been pointing at the apartment building had shook her head.  "And that isn't our building.  We're over there."

A couple of weeks ago, you had been bringing in a box of your stuff from Aunt Marlene's car, walking up the sidewalk from the parking lot when you had gotten stuck behind that woman and her kid.  The kid had pointed at Marlene's building and said that.

"We're Maybe Homes!"

The little time you've spent in Minneapolis thus far has taught you the city is mostly green and grey.  Green trees.  Gray weather.  It's been a wet summer thus far.  It's just mostly rained or been overcast for the couple of weeks you've been here.

Aunt Marlene lives in a four unit, two story building.  Unit 201, the upper right apartment.  The building fronts on to 5th Street Southeast, right by the corner where 5th Street intersects 5th Avenue Southeast.  Fifth and Fifth.  No joke.  Apparently every street in the Marcy Holmes district of Minneapolis has Southeast at the end of it's name, which just makes the situation even more confusing.

You woke up this morning with that memory of the kid and his Maybe Homes in your head.  Maybe you were having a dream and that memory had just been replaying.

Marlene was already gone by the time you walked out of the small room which is now 'your room' and into the kitchen.  Marlene's apartment is:  a living room large enough to hold a love seat, an ottoman, and a big screen TV; a kitchen which is actually bigger than the living room with a round kitchen table; her room; your room which used to be her storage room; and the bathroom the two of you now share.  That's it.  Home hadn't been that big either.  But it was sure bigger than this.

She left you a plate with some bacon, an english muffin, and a hard boiled egg wrapped in plastic wrap on the table next to the chair that was now 'your chair'.  Beside it was the stack of 'your mail' which you haven't really done anything with yet.  There's a packet from Thomas Eddison High School.  You'll start there in two days.  And a copy of the Minnesota Practice Driver's Exam.  You have the learner's permit.  But driving has kind of been...on hold.  What with everything.

Today there's also a note.  You should buy some new shoes.  Here's eighty $$$. There's a Sav U Shoe story on University Ave and 4th.  Take a look at the park while you're there.  I'll be back late.  We have a girl's night out after work.  So get a big lunch too.

She actually only left $75.  You know if you walk two blocks southwest down Fifth Avenue Southeast, you'll come to University Avenue Southeast.  Then you should be able to walk a block northwest to Fourth Avenue Southeast.

Looking out the window, it's another overcast day.  The bacon somehow tastes like it wasn't salted.

Marlene's right though.  You do need new shoes.  Your left sneaker has a hole on the instep which is just getting bigger.

You lock the door with the spare key copy Marlene gave you.  There's a set of stairs down to the mailboxes and entry.  At the bottom of them, on his knees, is an old guy you haven't seen before.  There are two paper bags of groceries sitting on the bottom step and another paper bag with a large hole in it on the floor below them.  Scattered across the walkway are several large pink grapefruits.  The man is probably a neighbor who was bringing groceries home when one of the bags broke open and spilled the grapefruits all over.

You'll have to step over the grocery bags on the bottom step and walk past him to get out to the street.
Jack Sharpe
player, 2 posts
Sat 16 Nov 2019
at 23:20
  • msg #2

Jack Sharpe

“Marcy Holmes,” Jack repeats a few times to himself as he stirs to wakefulness. He could go a long time without sleep, but sometimes it was simply mandatory for his sense of self, a means of decompressing a lot of stored up information. It was also necessary so that he would pass as normal with his aunt. He doesn’t think she’d sell him out or anything, and he has little fear, but the rules his parents had instilled on him since he was young: “Don’t let anyone know.”

The summer is fading fast, and while he doesn’t quite expect it to be exactly as cold as it is just an hour and a half north, he expects that soon the leaves will fall and the snows will come.  This deep in the downtown area, he expects the amount of times he’ll need to push a car out of a ditch will be minimal, not that he minds doing that sort of thing.

Rubbing the remainders of sleep from his eyes, Jack pulls on the same clothes he’d worn the day before. He can get away with that sort of thing as long as he didn’t spill anything on it, since he creates essentially no bi-products, despite his agegroup’s notoriety for being ripe.  His aunt probably didn’t notice, he expects, because she had never raised a teenager before, but from his fellow students he knows he is sparing her a certain amount of work on the laundry.

Eating the food she has left out, he stares out the windows, watching the traffic in the nearby streets. Unable to stop himself from looking at and listening to the area, he can get away with the looking. His eyes piercing the veils of concrete and plaster, wood and drywall. He stares at the people going about their business for a mote, irresistibly curious about the lives of others. He’d never had so many people around, doing so many things. Never so many good looking women, either.

Realizing he was being creepy a moment later, he hangs his head and sighs into the remainder of his English muffin. Scolding himself for looking where he shouldn’t, he nods to himself while he reads her note.

“New shoes?” he questions and looks towards his pair of shredded Converse near the door. “Yeah, okay,” he confirms with the note. He’d try to stretch that seventy-five though. Goodwill and Savers first, and then if he can’t find anything cheap there, he’ll go to this ‘Sav U Shoe’. So he looks that up and plots a course.

Finding the man on the stairs, Jack doesn’t recognize him from the other three units, but he doesn’t think anything of it. Stopping by the man, he grabs up a few of the grapefruits and holds them out for the guy. “I'm Jack, staying with my aunt in 201," he explains and then looking at the man, he asks, "Which unit are you in? I can help carry your stuff up," being respectful.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:21, Sat 16 Nov 2019.
Editor-in-Chief
GM, 23 posts
Sun 17 Nov 2019
at 03:10
  • msg #3

Jack Sharpe

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 2):

The old guy straightens up when you speak, blinking in surprise.  A grin slides across his face.  So you're the new guy, huh?  Marlene.  She said she was gonna go get her nephew to come stay with her.  And here you are!  Good to meetcha!  I'm Sol. Rabbi Soloman Letz.  But you're not Jewish.  So just cal me Sol.  I'm across the way from you.

He points up at Apartment 202.  I moved in about a year ago.  Downsized since my wife died.  Schlotz!  Will you look at these cheap bags?  He holds up the broken one that caused the problem.  He then holds it sideways, so the two of you can dump the grapefruits on the unbroken part of the bag.

I say schlotz a lot cos I can't say 'shit' since I'm a rabbi.  Well I could.  But I'm not supposed to.  Bad for the image.  Yeah if you could follow me up with the unbroken bags.  Oh you're a life saver!  At my age, going up and down these stairs can be a real schlotz.  Ya know what I mean?

He manages the key to his apartment and you help carry the bags inside.  He has a bigger place.   His living room is large enough to hold everything a living room should and still have space to walk around the sofa.  He sighs.  You want a soda or somethin'?  School hasn't started up yet right?  Where are you gonna go?  He walks back from his fridge with two cold cans of Fresca.

You findin' your way around okay?
Jack Sharpe
player, 3 posts
Sun 17 Nov 2019
at 04:55
  • msg #4

Jack Sharpe

"Yes, sir," Jack confirms when the rabbi questions his bona fides.  "Good to meet you too," he says, being polite. It's not that he's unfailingly polite, or a boy scout like some might expect, but leaving an old man to deal with spilled fruit seemed rude. Glancing up the stairs toward the apartment in question, he looks at it from the bottom of the stairs before he looks back to the old man.
Walking up the stairs with him, holding whatever is necessary, he carries it into the apartment. Fearless.

"Mel Brooks is the closest guy to a rabbi I've ever had around me, so you could swear and I'd have never known," he points out. The DVD collection back home had been somewhat limited. Blazing Saddles was one of the handful. "Your place is a lot bigger than aunt Marlene's," he points out with a smile and looks around a little, his hands staying in his pockets.

"A soda? Sure. No, school starts in two days, Edi-- Thomas Edison," he answers. "Yeah, just on my way to Goodwill and a few places to see if I can find a good pair of shoes, and maybe some replacement hoodies or something for the year with the seventy-five my aunt gave me."

He pauses then, like he's dwelling on a question.

"Say, do you know if this place Sav U Shoe is good? She recommended it, but I think she just didn't want to send me to the thrift store. But I don't mind," he explains.
Editor-in-Chief
GM, 24 posts
Sun 17 Nov 2019
at 22:11
  • msg #5

Jack Sharpe

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 4):

Sol raises an eyebrow, apparently surprised by something in your answer.  "You are a very honest young man.  Aren't you?  It's a good way to be.  Cheers."  He toasts you by bumping his Fresca against yours.

"I know that Sav U place.  Meh.  Not bad.  Just meh.  But thrift stores aren't so great a place if you don't have to.  Tell you what.  It's a little bit of a walk.  But you're young.
You go down 5th Street.  Not the Avenue.  The Street.  You go until you come to Central Avenue.  You turn right.  You'll see a Ray J's cafe.  Not a bad place for a sandwich by the way.  Anyway, about four?  No.  Five doors down from Ray J is a Emily's Boutique.  You go in there and you tell them Rabbi Letz sent you for some shoes.  And tell them I said treat you right.  Trust me on this. If Emily can't help, she'll still find a way to help.

If you don't want the walk, the Sav U isn't bad.  I think there's a Good Will a block farther north from there as well.

As far as a hoodie..."
  He sets down his Fresca and holds up a finger, telling you to wait.  He goes down a hall and enters a room off it.  You wait a few minutes, enjoying the citrusy refreshment that is Fresca, before he comes back taking a plastic garment bag off a hoodie.  "Here!  This should fit you."

It's an old hoodie in arctic camo colors with solid black sleeves.  It's in suprisingly good condition.  "Go on.  Take it.  It's just taking up space in my spare closet.  It was my son's.  He doesn't need it anymore.  Go on."  He kind of thrusts it at you, not in a hostile fashion, but like he's not going to take no for an answer.
Jack Sharpe
player, 4 posts
Sun 17 Nov 2019
at 22:33
  • msg #6

Jack Sharpe

Jack takes the bump to his drink with a smile and sips at the Fresca, it isn’t his favorite, but it isn’t bad either. Apparently a bit like Sav U Shoe. Meh.

“Fifth street to central, five doors past Ray J’s sandwich place, Emily’s Boutique, tell her you sent me,” he repeats it back to make sure he caught the right directions, not because he’d forget, but it’s one of those normal people behaviors he’d picked up on. Making it less obvious how little he forgets, his eyes flicking from the top of the can to the man and then to him as he goes walking down the hallway to that room.

When he comes back with the hoodie, Jack manages to look genuinely surprised. He’d actually sort of hoped that the old Rabbi knew a good place to get shoes, because old people always know things like that, and pastors/rabbis doubly so. It’s in the job description. But the hoodie is a surprise.

Taking it in his spare hand, he looks at it and then at the Rabbi, like he’s trying to imagine him wearing the camo. Hearing who it belonged to, he nods his head a little and says, “Thank you, Sol.” He doesn’t ask about the son, because that’s Sol’s thing, and he doesn’t want to prod a raw nerve with someone he just met.

“What kind of sandwich do you like there?” he asks. “What do you recommend?” he clarifies.
Editor-in-Chief
GM, 31 posts
Tue 19 Nov 2019
at 00:29
  • msg #7

Jack Sharpe

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 6):

Sol looks surprised.  "I'm Jewish!  So the Reuben of course!"  He chuckles.  "They actually make a nice Philly.  I like the mushroom burger too.

You got the directions down straight.  So be careful.  It's not the neighborhood it used to be."


He seems like he's about to consider saying something and then shrugs.  "Well. You seem like you got some sense.  Just be careful.  'kay?"
Jack Sharpe
player, 5 posts
Tue 19 Nov 2019
at 01:52
  • msg #8

Jack Sharpe

Hearing the sandwich of choice, Jack nods and makes a mental note for later. Taking the hoodie off of the hanger, he pulls it on over his Coca-Cola Classic tee and listens to Sol’s final mention of the neighborhood he is headed toward. “I’m sure I’ll be fine Sol, but I’ll keep my head on a swivel,” he declares and gives the old man a thumbs up.

Holding up the finished can of Fresca, he asks, “Where is your recycling bin? Oh, you know what, I’ll throw it in the bin on the way out, in fact, if you want I can take your trash down if you have anything that needs to go down, since I’m on my way out,” and then after a half second of thought proceeds to feel his pockets with his fingertips. Switching the can between hands so he can alternate the hands. Checking to make sure that he’d grabbed the money, his phone and his keys. The keys now consisting of his key to aunt Marlene’s building, apartment, and one for the old house in Saint Cloud.

The keys are there of course, he’d locked the door on the way out, and his phone is where it belongs. The money is in his wallet, and that’s there too along with his learner’s permit. “Thanks for the help, the soda, and the hoody, Sol. I’ll see you around sometime,” he says and starts to back to the door.

Of course, he takes whatever Sol asks him to take down without complaint. The advice, the potential help with the shoes, and the hoody was more than worth the price of a chore. Also, Sol seems like a cool old guy, and he thinks he might offer to help him with other stuff from time to time.

It seemed like the neighborly thing to do.




A few minutes later, his departure from Sol managed with typical Minnesota goodbye traditions, making it slightly longer than is strictly necessary, Jack begins making his way down fifth toward Central. His hands sliding into the pockets of the hoody as he walks, he lets his eyes rove over the area. The refreshing breeze on his face, the crisp approach of September’s autumn air and the departure of the stifling Minnesota humidity.

Not that he really experiences such things like a normal person, but he’s aware of the change in the humidity in the same way that he might be aware of the change of the breeze. He can enjoy and differentiate, even if neither makes life better or worse.

The passage between blocks from residential to more commercial marked with his purposeful stride. Tireless and athletic, he occasionally has to remind himself to settle.

Make it less obvious.

He stumbles deliberately on a crack in the sidewalk, stabilizes, and starts dragging his feet a little. Trying to make himself look less purposeful, less resilient and athletic. More normal. Whatever that is.
Editor-in-Chief
GM, 33 posts
Wed 20 Nov 2019
at 02:01
  • msg #9

Jack Sharpe

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 8):

Sol waves off the offer with a cheerful smile.  "No.  I'm fine.  Just be good.  And Jack?  Take care."  The old Rabbi is smiling as he says that, but he puts a little emphasis on the last two words.




The neighborhood seems to be mostly college kids attending the University, younger couples just starting out, young families, and small pockets of elderly people like Sol.  You pass a small park.  There's a jungle gym and a swing set and benches set around where parents, mostly women, sit and chat while their kids run around whooping at each other.  It's almost so perfect you could mistake it as fake.  Like the sky and trees were a mat painting, and the kids all had agents who were trying to get them Nickelodeon shows.

You pass by a pizza kitchen that hasn't opened yet for business, but appear to be baking off a few pies.  The smell of the fresh bread and garlic sits like a fog bank along the sidewalk in front of the store.  The place is called Skelly's Fine...well.  Just that.  Skelly's Fine.  It looks like the 'Pizza' that was supposed to appear after 'Fine' has faded off.

About a block away from your destination, you see a group of kids your age on the opposite side of the street, headed the way you had come.  It's not the fact they are of the same age as you that draws your attention.  You've passed a couple of other groups like that.  It's the fact they are all appear to be color coordinated.  The boys wear blue denim shirts which look ironed and khaki slacks.  The girls all wear comfortable looking plain brown skirts and yellow blouses.  You can see several of them have pins attached to to their clothes, just above their heart.

You have no trouble reading the pins from this distance.

One says BE Content

Another reads BE Happy

Another reads We must all BE as we must all BE.

The group is laughing and talking amongst themselves as they walk down the street.  You see an older woman ahead watching after them.  She clicks her tongue, shakes her head, and goes back to sweeping the steps leading up to her dress shop.

You see the signage ahead.  Ray J's.  It looks like it's just about to open.  You don't know if there will be a lunch rush, but you could get there ahead of it.  Emily's store should be five doors down from that.
Jack Sharpe
player, 6 posts
Wed 20 Nov 2019
at 04:30
  • msg #10

Jack Sharpe

Given the events of his recent life, Jack is trying his best to feel that Rockwell vibe. He doesn’t. His mother’s recent arrest, his move to the big city, they are simultaneously the best and worst things that have ever happened to him. He’d felt like life was stalled in their cabin southwest of Saint Cloud. They were near a lake (everywhere is near a lake in Minnesota) and there was plenty of room for him to run around or even fly if he felt like he could get away with it.

But even at night, his parents didn’t want him flying too high, or too fast. Either might set off the military, weather monitoring stations or even whatever passed for the local Meta Elements in the local region. He’d not had a great childhood, and he largely put his blame on his homeschooling and the remoteness of their lives. So while he treasured the idea of finally joining society, he was doing it because of the absence of his mother, and he constantly wondered at her well-being up north.

It was too far for even him to look in on her, though he suspected if she started yelling, he might hear her. He'd never really tested the range of his hearing. He suspected it was far enough it might reach.

Walking along, he looks at the frat boys and the couples, and then the kids in school uniforms? Mormons? The matching buttons and the matching outfits makes him think of something. Cults? BE. MayBE Homes.  Marcy Holmes.

Maybe that's what his dream had been about, he'd been listening to conversations and picking up on things in his sleep. Block-adjacent conversations.
*Note to self: buy ear plugs and shooting ear-muffs from a gun store.

The pizza place and the sandwich joint both get a glance, not because he’s necessarily hungry, he scarcely needs to eat to survive and he does it mostly out of the compulsion to BE normal, so the woman shaking her head becomes his destination. Listening in on their conversation as he walks, he turns his eyes toward the woman shaking her head at them, and comes to a stop near her to ask, “What’s the deal with the school uniforms?” Out of curiosity.

All the while, he keeps his ears on the teenagers. Trying to figure out the answer, even before she can give it. A perpetual solver of riddles.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:03, Wed 20 Nov 2019.
Editor-in-Chief
GM, 39 posts
Thu 21 Nov 2019
at 03:20
  • msg #11

Jack Sharpe

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 10):

It's hard to quite understand the conversation the kids are having.  You've missed part of it, and maybe that part would have provided some context.  But it sounds fairly innocuous.

"Oh my!  I know exactly what you're talking about!  I got that look when I asked for a second helping of the lemonade!"

"So I tried playing it off.  I was all like...'Oh!  This isn't for me!  This is for Barry!'"

They all laugh.  One of the guys throws up his hands and rolls his eyes.

"Sure," he says. "Blame it all on me!"  But he laughs along with everyone else.

"Oh Brad!  Just BE happy the girls are thinking of you!"

They all laugh again.  The only weird thing is the way that last guy said BE.  He kind of gave the word a weird emphasis.  It's hard to explain.  For some reason, you just think of the word in capital letters.




The woman with the broom starts a little when you speak to her.  "Damn!  Just about gave me a stroke!"  But she doesn't seem to upset.  Or at least her body temperature doesn't appear to have risen significantly the way you would imagine it would if someone suddenly became agitated due to anger.

"Those kids?  Well..."  She hesitates a second and then shrugs.  "They're good people.  I mean.  All the BEs are always very nice and polite.  But...I dunno.  I'll just be standing here minding my own business.  But then they pass by, and I can't help but look at them.  You're too young to remember the Stepford Wives.  But I swear, it's like watching a bunch of Stepford Wives in real life.  But that's probably just me being bitchy."

And again, you heard it.  The weird way she said BE that one time.  It just came out different.  It's like he speaking pitch changed and her voice sounded a little tighter.  BE.  It just feels like the E is capitalized.
Jack Sharpe
player, 7 posts
Thu 21 Nov 2019
at 04:38
  • msg #12

Jack Sharpe

Leaving off on listening to their conversation, Jack rotates his attention fully for a second to the woman sweeping and smiles a little, holding up his palms in a soothing gesture. He lowers his hands again when she begins to explain and looks after the teenagers for a moment. His attention drifting, even as his ears listened to her.

They have friends. They might BE weird and be part of some cult or something, but in at least that one aspect they are ahead of Jack. Maybe Sol is a friend in the making though.  And with luck, he’d make a few more at school once that started. He has nothing to fear in a physical sense, but he does worry that he might make an ass out of himself.

The pressure to be not just normal, but likeable.

That was the hard part. Being normal. Processing everything faster, seeing the small glances they’d have probably hidden, the furtive looks between people, overhearing conversations, it all added up. Every sense made him more odd, because his view of the world was unlike anything they could imagine. His mother had once asked him to describe how he saw things, versus how things appeared on television without the benefit of his senses picking up everything they might normally. “I imagine it’d be like you looking at the world with a bucket on your head, stuffed with foam?” he had answered, not sure how to explain the difference.

Muted. That was the word he should have used. The idea that normal people couldn’t see the stars in the sky had baffled him in his early years. Of course, it also meant that they didn't deal with the smells of others quite as distinctly, that loud noises weren't unpleasant to an alarming degree, and they could enjoy the small things. Like when someone hadn't done a great job butchering their meat and left extra fat and gristle. He noticed these things in ways that others probably did not.

As his mind processed and remembered, he realized that his attention had been inappropriately split, and his head had nodded as appropriate. His mind replaying the conversation for him, he nods a bit more firmly.

“I see,” he says and glancing back at them again, he nods at the woman. She’s working in front of a dress shop, and at a glance, he doesn’t think she sells anything that’d work for him, so thankfully he is spared trying to explain why he isn’t going to go in to her store after her helpful tidbit. No feeling of obligation there. “It's good that they're pleasant. The B.E. thing though, is that like a cult or self-help group thing?” he asks, since she hadn’t really explained what they were, then again, she hadn’t corrected him when he’d said it was a school uniform.

Edison would make for an E initial, but it’s Thomas. TE. Not his future high school then.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:41, Thu 21 Nov 2019.
Editor-in-Chief
GM, 41 posts
Fri 22 Nov 2019
at 02:56
  • msg #13

Jack Sharpe

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 12):

She stops sweeping at your question and seems to think the answer over carefully.  "Honestly.  I...don't really know.  They just kinda started showing up one day, and that's just how they were.  I'm not even sure I know any of them personally.  Huh."  She shakes her head and then gives you a wry smile.  "Listen to me.  Making judgments about people I don't know a thing about.  Ha.  You never realize how high you have your nose in the air until it rains, do ya?"

She shrugs, gives you another smile, and heads inside her store.  She's humming under her breath.  It's the melody from The Girl From Ipanema  YOu can hear the BEs still.  But it's more inane chatter.

A guy comes out of Ray J's carrying one of those sandwich boards.  The daily specials are being advertised.  A Philly with fries and cup of tomato basil soup.  $8.

Ray Js?  Or Emily's?  Or wherever Jack would like to go.
Jack Sharpe
player, 8 posts
Fri 22 Nov 2019
at 03:21
  • msg #14

Jack Sharpe

“You didn’t say anything negative, ma’am,” Jack replies, and gives her a nod as she walks back in to her shop. Turning his attention back to the street, he makes another mental note to look up the group later on the internet, or maybe ask Sol about them. Sol would know, probably. Turning back to his track, he continues forward again, hands dipping into the pockets of his hoodie as he makes his way towards Emily’s Boutique.

He has a plan to stop at Ray J’s on the way back, if he has any money left, but he can’t count on that. Emily’s might give him a discount, but the likes of Wal-Mart and other businesses in that category had made it hard for small businesses to be too generous. That said, he might get access to her discards or items she was otherwise going to be throwing away.

Who knew? A guy could only hope that whatever she came up with wasn’t going to get him ridiculed at school.

As Jack approaches, he lets his gaze wander slightly and he checks to make sure that it should be open: checking the time, before he pulls on the handle. He’d learned to do that when he was half his current age when he pulled the front door off of a local business on a trip in to town. His mother had been good about making it seem like it was the owner’s fault, had threatened a lawsuit, but afterward, he’d been made to learn to look to make sure places were open—and even then, to open a door at a sedate pace.
Editor-in-Chief
GM, 43 posts
Sun 24 Nov 2019
at 02:42
  • msg #15

Jack Sharpe

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 14):

I love the Wal-Mart bit and the careful thought in to opening the door.  That's great

Emily's is open and Emily herself turns out to be a young woman in her late twenties.  A little heavy set but with a pair of very big, bright green eyes.  She also has a sort of lop sided grin.  It's like more of the left sided part of her face is smiling than the right.  But she seems pleasant enough.

"Rabbi Sol sent you huh?  Shoes?  Let's see.  You look like you're about a....size 11?  Medium?"  Whether you believe she's close or not, the two of you measure.  "Shoot.  Eleven and a half.  I used to be better at feet than that."

She shrugs and sort of trudges back to the racks, gesturing you to sit in a chair.  "How'd you meet Rabbi Sol?  Me and my husband go to Beth El.  You go there too?  Not Jewish?  Huh.  You Lutheran?  No.  I bet you can't be Lutheran.  You didn't come in with a coffee in your hand.  Lutherans are great.  Love 'em.  But man do they love their coffee.  I had a neighbor when I was in college.  She and her roommate were both Lutheran.  And they would spend more money on coffee than they would on everything else combined.  But man! They had some of the The!  Best!  Coffee!  I mean brands I'd never heard of.   They weren't going through Amazon either.  Here we go.  What abou'...

So anyhoo.  You go to Edison?  My husband Barney used to teach there.  Biology.  But honestly back in 2010 we kinda had to let two of the three girls we had here at the store go.  Part of it was the Obamacare and minimum wage thing yeah.  But it was mostly business.  One of the girls honestly I had been thinkin' about lettin' go.  Nice girl, but I can't be sure she wasn't stealing.  The other girl...Claire?  Oh, that broke my heart to tell her.  Such a nice girl.  Whadda ya think about these?

My Barney teaches at the junior college now.  That's how we get our health insurance.  We only have a part timer.  Sweet girl.  Lacy Hilden.  She goes to Edison.  Known her family for years.  They go to the non-denominational church Sacred Hands across the river.  The Hildens are wonderful people.  Lacy only works Saturday though.  And is about the only one I trust to run the shop by herself.  Cos..you know.  Jewish.  So I'm off on Saturdays.

Now then.  These also might be nice...

You might meet Lacy.  She's gonna be a junior at Edison this year too.  Don't know what I'm gonna do when she goes to college.  Do you want a Jolly Rancher?  There's some in that bowl there."


During all this, Emily rummages around and produces three choices for you.

A cheap...and they look cheap.  Almost bad cheap...pair of blue sneakers.  The material is pretty thin.  She'll sell them to you for $30.

There's a pair of cowboy boots.  They look in good shape and feel comfortable.  But they are boots, which may or may not be to your liking.  The price on those are $55.

The last option is a pair of knock off brand Nikes (the brand name is not one you've heard of before called Kines).  The Kines are decently made but kind of an odd bluish color.  Not neon blue or anything.  But kind of sky blue.  $50.

"Anything else you were lookin' for?"
Jack Sharpe
player, 9 posts
Sun 24 Nov 2019
at 05:42
  • msg #16

Jack Sharpe

“He’s my neighbor.”

Jack is mindful of her apparent palsy, but can’t begin to reckon the differences between varieties of disorders that might cause it, or if it’s just a tic. “Yeah, eleven-ish, I don’t think I’ve grown too much, these are still pretty comfortable,” he’d answered but as she’d pointed out, it was always necessary to double check. The shoes she produces in the 11 ½ size being a bit funky for his tastes. He felt like he could get a better deal if he waited for Black Friday.

Not some fancy pair, mind, but something new and not liable to get him made fun of. But until November he’d make do with what he could get, and he’s fairly certain these are at least close to the options he’ll find at the Goodwill. Maybe a touch more expensive, and with less variety to choose from, but he can’t know for certain, and if he burns this bridge he can’t rely on good Emily in the future.

The question of his denomination has him answer promptly, “I’m agnostic ma’am, my parents were Presbyterian and um.. I think my dad’s family was Jehovah’s Witnesses, but we never really met them and obviously never went to any sort of events with them. I don’t know how I feel about things, personally..” he answered smoothly, and without shame.

Looking at his three options, he weighs them. The first pair is straight out. No shoes could really survive him running in them, and while he imagined in his mind that someday he might meet a tinker or inventor worth their weight in gold, and ask for a pair of Meta-level running shoes, he knows that nothing he buys here should be based on the notion of running at full speed in them.

Instead, he has to weigh them in the same way a regular teenage boy might.

With vanity in mind, he says, “It’s the boots or the Kines. I don’t know which one they’ll tease me for less. The cowboy boots may me look like a redneck, which isn’t good, and the Kines will make me look poor. I might be able to unstitch the lettering on them though, I’ll just need one of those little scissors,” he reckons aloud.

That seals it for him. The revelation that he could make them non-descript.

It also helps that in his mind’s eye, their odd bluish color is probably somewhat similar to his eyes, and girls might like that. “I’ll take these. Uh, hm.. I packed ten shirts, five pairs of pants, plenty of socks and underwear. Sol gave me a hoody,” he is thinking out loud and lightly fingers the hoody he is wearing. “I suppose maybe a hat? The Wild as a team could be good, or maybe something just plain, something for when my hair isn’t looking so slick? And uh, another hoody, since it’ll be getting cold before jacket weather, what do you have?” he decides. “I only have seventy five, and I was hoping to get Sol a sandwich, but I guess can do that in the future.”
This message was lightly edited by the player at 05:44, Sun 24 Nov 2019.
Editor-in-Chief
GM, 45 posts
Mon 25 Nov 2019
at 03:50
  • msg #17

Jack Sharpe

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 16):

Emily laughs.  "You're a good kid, aren't ya?

Tell you what.  Buy the hoodie from me an' the shoes an' I'll throw in a hat for free.  Hoodies...here we go.


She shows you a section of the rack which has several hoodies.  They're all flat zipper up hoodies of single colors.

The hat section takes up one half of a wall.  Baseball caps with team logos, a lot of funny logos like Deny Everything and I'm not desperate enough to settle for you yet, and several very plain ones.

I'll let you decide.  As long as it's not too exotic, go nuts

She looks at your choices and says, "I'll make you a deal.  You promise to visit again an' I'll sell you the lot for...$58.  Deal?"

You notice a community style paper on the counter by the cash register.  The lead story's headline reads Has the Minnesota Monkey Returned?!?

Emily sees you glancing at it.  She snorts.  "That rag isn't even much of a scandal rag.  But it does have a good listing of stuff going on like festivals and concerts an' stuff.  The Monkey comin' back is just a bunch of nonsense.  He'd be older than Sol if he was back.

You have no idea what she's talking about.  The confusion must show on your face.  "Oh!  You really aren't from around here, right?  The Monkey was kind of a' small time meta back in the...I guess it was the early nineties.  Closest thing we've had to a Cowl type since I've lived in Minnesota." She uses the euphemism for a meta-vigilante.
Jack Sharpe
player, 10 posts
Mon 25 Nov 2019
at 04:09
  • msg #18

Jack Sharpe

Listening to her offer, Jack nods his head and looks at the wide variety. He settles on a black baseball cap with only a single white lightning bolt on it. Nothing too special, just something that catches his eye. He puts it on, and tests the fit, and finding it acceptable, dons it right there on the spot. With his seventy five, he talks to her while he sorts out his money and hands over the fifty-eight.

The hoody he had decided on was similarly plain, dark grey with a logo for some sportswear company on the breast and a pair of draw straps for the hood.

He takes off his shoes once he has paid and hands them over for her to throw in the trash. "Don't suppose you have a sewing kit? So I can remove the lettering?" he asks, looking at the Kines logo on them, and not holding out hope, starts to lace them up. Bending over to do it with a small show of flexibility.

Looking back up as she is explaining the Monkey, he nods his head and picks up the paper, looking at the price on it.

He could use some details on meta news. He can always get info online, but it was so easy for metas to scrub those websites that got things right that all that was left was the conspiracy theories and the hard to find sources.  That from his limited computer experience, anyway.

"So he was a big deal a while ago and then disappeared? Wonder why they think it's him."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:59, Tue 26 Nov 2019.
Editor-in-Chief
GM, 47 posts
Tue 26 Nov 2019
at 04:08
  • msg #19

Jack Sharpe

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 18):

Emily laughs and holds our her hand for the shoes.  She has some sewing equipment and unstitches the logo for you while you peruse the paper.

The newspaper is free.  It's called the Minneapolis Market News.  It seems to be some local paper that's really a lot of advertisements, but does have a few articles about local news and event announcements.

Please see the Market News thread for the article

Emily hands you your shoes, logo free.  "Thanks.  See you around Jack."
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:08, Tue 26 Nov 2019.
Jack Sharpe
player, 11 posts
Tue 26 Nov 2019
at 06:03
  • msg #20

Jack Sharpe

Walking out of Emily's boutique after browsing the article, taking his time about it with a few glances over at Emily as she pulls the stitches out. He  smiles at her when she hands the shoes back and tucks the paper into the bag for the hoodie he'd just bought. The hat on his head, the shoes on his feet, he can tell the difference in padding, and the feel of the new hat. Like a new man!

"Thanks, Emily," he mentions. "I'll tell Sol you said hello," he mentions.

As he walks, he reflects on the tone and facts of the paper, his eyes gravitating towards Ray J's diner as he walks. Eventually, he should maybe try to meet 'the Monkey' or whoever it is, and see what they are about, but he had to be ready for his full debut at that point. He'd need to get some sort of mask to cover his face at the least, and he needed to make sure that his aunt didn't find out.

He didn't think he wanted to wait until he was eighteen before he ever did anything. There were too many people in need of help most nights, their cries and pleas falling on nobody's ears but his. He could do things to help them, and his parent's rules had handcuffed him. But he would only let that last for so long.

It was never going to be a matter of if he came out of the phonebooth, but when.

Opening the door, he steps inside the diner, intent on ordering the special for Sol. Since Sol had done him a good turn.
Editor-in-Chief
GM, 48 posts
Wed 27 Nov 2019
at 02:26
  • msg #21

Jack Sharpe

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 20):

"Welcome to Ray Js.  Come in and have a seat."  A woman about Marlene's age but a bit pudgier and with noticeably graying hair stands behind the counter at Ray J's.  The counter is long and lined with stools with thickly padded red cushions on the seat.  There are tables off to the right, but at this time of day, no one is sitting in any of them.  There's one other customer, seated all the way at the other end of the counter.  He's probably a college student, but pretty muscular.  He's wearing a grey and brown flannel shirt, jeans, and one of those hunters hats with the ear flaps, also brown in color.

The waitress smiles and plunks a glass of water on the counter in front of you.  There is a stand with menus between the salt and pepper shakers.  A half filled bottle of ketchup sits beside the pepper.

"Got a real good special today.  Also we got some good hot dishes,".  The menu does indeed have a selection of every casserole Minnesota is famous for.

Juanita...that's what her name tag says...motions she'll be right back and goes down to the college student.  He's having the Beef 'n Noodles hot dish.

She walks away to put in his ticket.  You can hear him mutter under his breath, just as clearly as if he were speaking directly in to your own, "How the hell am I gonna do this?  I can't screw this up again."

You can see he has a paper set in front of him.  It's a class schedule for Thomas Edison.
Jack Sharpe
player, 12 posts
Wed 27 Nov 2019
at 03:14
  • msg #22

Jack Sharpe

A glance at the woman as he walks in, and Jack smiles, taking a seat. He immediately glances around for the price on the special, and decides if his math is correct that he can get himself and Sol both one of the specials.  It sometimes felt selfish to eat for the sake of enjoying the taste of food, as he would be, but  he could save up his lunch money in the future.

The sound of the other young man’s voice from the other end of the counter makes his attention catch all the more. The outfit, the build, he doesn’t just look like a college student, he even dresses a bit like one. But the words and the paper make him think that the other guy must be a student.

Picking up his water, he walks down the counter, taking a seat a few seats away, he posits an opening question: “Thomas Edison, too?” leaving the question open ended deliberately, so that, if the guy is friendly, he might fill in the gaps.

When Junita comes over a few moments later to ask him for his order, he answers swiftly, “So, I’d like the special, the philly and soup, and a Coke? How much would what be? I’d like to get another special to go, when I leave, if I can afford it,” he mentions, so that she can help him make an educated decision. Not really giving her much hope for a tip, but he’s a young teenager, and her only customer, something is better than nothing.
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