Problem Solved! 13 & 14 Posted

Okay. Andrew has given my the answer. The key to my problems. Solution: Edit Html! Simple! Easy! Amazing! Catalog Living! So I am now posting 13 - 'Evangeline's Decision' and 14 - 'Headache'. Read 'em and weep. Or laugh; I do not care.

Oh, yes I do. Just enjoy these stories. Please.

P.S. - Sorry for the spacing and whatnot. This looks MUCH neater on Word.

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13 - Evangeline's Decision

“Oh, Eve.” The iPod Man said slowly. “You are absolutely right. No one cares. Not truly. Not anymore. That’s why I’m here. I’m here, Eve, to set things right. There was a time when Bibliophiles – such as yourself – were greatly appreciated in the Cleveland community.” He sighed. “But not anymore. They aren’t needed.”

Evangeline repeated his sighed and nodded softly.

“But, Eve, I’m telling you this: We need you.”

Evangeline looked up, her paper-like face confused.
“Who are you, again?”

“No ‘again’; we haven’t been introduced. I’m Jonathon Holt. And I’m decently sure you’re Evangeline Stewart?” Evangeline nodded warily. “Well, Miss Stewart,” Jonathon continued, “I am simply a messenger. I offer you a job – a better job than this, I’m sure. And it would pay a bit better. One minute,” Jonathon paused and took some papers from the bag over his shoulder. “I think I have the official invitation here somewhere.”

Evangeline awkwardly tapped her fingers on the wooden stage she sat upon.

“What sort of job requires a bibliophile? Even I admit we aren’t well suited to the world today.” She watched the iPod man sit the papers down on a seat and pull even more from his bag. “I was going to be an English major. Double major. Triple major, if I could have pulled it off. But no. Instead, here I am! I should be a hypnotist - I put enough people to sleep for the title!” She watched as Jonathon pulled yet another stack of papers from his bag. “My, aren’t you disorganized.”

“It was in here.” Jonathon grunted as he rifled through the papers. “But it’s really small, and I’ve got so much junk. Wait a sec! It’s in my pocket.” Jonathon smiled broadly as he pulled a tiny, cream-colored envelop from his pants pocket. He handed the message to Evangeline with a flourish. “Miss Stewart, your letter.”

Evangeline took the letter and opened the envelope, which she was interested to find was simply the letter folded over itself. The message, written in pale green, was addressed to here using her full name:


Evangeline Madeline Stewart,

I offer you a job of high regard. It involves the reading and care of a priceless book that dates to the early of Anno Domini. The position would pay for all your travelling fees, food, housing, and other expenses. If you accept I will require you to come to the site as quickly as possible. If you should decline this offer, please know that you will be consigning yourself to a lifetime of shopping-mall speeches that severely undermine your abilities.

Most sincerely,
Lady Monica Pascal


Evangeline put the paper in her lap and stared at it. Jonathon opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by a wave of Evangeline’s hand.

“I accept,” she said.

“Great!” Jonathon said. “Let’s go!”

“Now?” Evangeline said, taken aback.

Jonathon plucked the paper from Evangeline’s lap, skimming the words quickly. “As quickly as possible,” he quoted, “And that means now. Let’s go. You’ll have everything you need there.”

Evangeline looked around the room, grabbed her copy of ‘The Bibliophile’s Best’ and followed the iPod man out the door.

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14 - Headache

It was neither the best of times nor the worst of times; Jon Myers had a headache. He’d had worse headaches than this before – the evening he ate his first peanut butter sandwich he thought he was going to die and his brain was going to pop out of his skull. He wasn’t necessarily happy to find he was allergic to peanut oil.

But this headache, while not of the ‘brain popping’ magnitude 9, was worsened by Jon’s location; that being the back seat of his family’s SUV as they drove down the bumpiest highway in America at seventy-five miles per hour.

To look at the bright side of Jon’s predicament, it was nighttime; his eyes weren’t being pricked by sharp needles every second. He could press his forehead against the cool window and try to distract himself by making out shapes in the hills laminated by the faint moonlight.

For a little while he was content to sit like this, staring out at the vast landscape of Nevada. He saw a hammer, standing upright, and a face, the features scowling back at him. The headache was a small buzz in the background of his thoughts.

Until a sudden, strong flash of yellow light beamed toward the car straight from the rock he was looking at. The flash hit Jon’s eyes and a thousand hot needles pressed their tips to his sore retinas. He gasped and pulled away, he head throbbing horribly.

“Dad!” He called to the front. “My head!”

His father knew what to do. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and jumped out of his seat, leaving the car on. He opened the truck and pulled out a two small medicinal bottles. Jennie, Jon’s oldest sister, jumped out of her seat and helped Jon climb over the back to get out.

Mr. Myers handed Jon the first bottle and Jon took a long swig, his head spinning, bouncing inside his head. He couldn’t think straight and he splashed some on his shirt. He handed back the bottle and was given just a small dosage of the second – a cap’s worth. He tried to get it down but coughed it up and began to retch, but his father forced the rest of the second dosage down. Jon’s heaving stopped and slowed. He collapsed into the arms of his sister, breathing deeply. He was drugged and asleep.

Minutes later the family was on the road again. Jon was tucked deep into a pile of blankets, snoozing peacefully. Jennie sat in the passenger seat with her father, thinking. With a small smile, she had an idea.

“Dad? Do you think music would calm him down better?”

The same idea had struck Mr. Myers. “I do, Jennie. I’m buying him an iPod for his birthday.”

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There y'all go. More will come.