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Post by elphie on Mar 26, 2009 9:20:33 GMT -5
Thanks! I have to write some more, because i don't have much done. I think the byplay between KITT and mike is sweet, if I do say so myself.
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Post by Firefly on Mar 26, 2009 9:35:23 GMT -5
oh yeah. I want a KITT like that. When I was a little girl, I used to write down my dreams as stories. Someone, I don't remember who, came across them and thought they were good. *shrug* How strange things can start.
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Post by elphie on Mar 26, 2009 9:40:17 GMT -5
I have wierd dreams. I used to have night terrors.
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Post by Firefly on Mar 26, 2009 9:47:19 GMT -5
I meant my goals/dreams, not sleeping dreams. LOL why did they make one word mean 2 different things? It gets a bit annoying at times.
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Post by elphie on Mar 29, 2009 12:28:39 GMT -5
Example of how screwed up the English language is (this from some stupid thing we got in spanish class of how hard english is to learn): The bandange was wound around the wound. yeah. Screwed up.
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Post by elphie on Mar 29, 2009 12:29:13 GMT -5
Teaser for the next installlment!
For the second morning in a row, Mike woke to the voice of a talking car. “Michael. Michael. Yoo-hoo. Wake up.” He let out a moan and pulled the covers over his head. “Michael, wake up. Your father is here.” Mike blinked and rubbed his eyes. “Okay. How is he?” “Well, yes, about that,” KITT said hesitantly. “Your father is locked inside the Knight Two Thousand.” “Oh, crap. How long has he been in there?” “Since one this morning, but as Mr. Knight was unconscious upon arrival, we thought it best to let you sleep.” “Wait a second.” Mike tried to process what he had just heard. “We? Who are we?” “Myself and the Knight Two Thousand,” KITT informed him. “We decided that while Mr. Knight was passed out, there was no reason to wake you.” “Um…wow. Thanks. I feel better.” Mike looked around, perplexed. “Why is it so dark in here?” “I tinted my windows so the sunlight would not wake you.” He began to gradually lighten them. “Wow, you don’t miss a thing, do you?” “I try not to,” KITT quipped. “But please focus. As I said, Mr. Knight has been locked inside the other car. He appears to be quite unhappy about it.” Sure enough, Michael was shouting soundlessly and pounding on the windows and doors to get out. “Just keeps gettin’ better and better.” Mike tossed the warm blanket onto the passenger seat. “So…do I just go drag him out?” “I would prefer it if you replaced your earwig first, since it fell out while you were having a nightmare.” “KITT, come on. Invasion of privacy” “I was not using my bookending matrix to follow your sleep patterns,” KITT retorted. “I realized that you were dreaming when you kicked my steering wheel. Please put in your earwig.” “Okay, I’m sorry.” He popped the device into his ear and got out. “Any advice?” “Since I cannot get telemetry on Mr. Knight, I have nothing constructive for you.” “All right. Wish me luck.” As Mike started forward, KITT 1.0 drove closer. “I told the Mustang not to wake you,” the Trans-Am said. “I did as you asked. When Michael told me to take him to the other bar in town, I switched to Auto Cruise and brought him here. He passed out on the way, but he’s awake now.” “I see that,” Mike said. “All right, let him out.” The door opened, and Michael, who had been pounding on the window, tumbled out onto the ground and vomited. “Thank you for not doing that all over my console,” KITT 1.0 commented dryly
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Post by Firefly on Mar 29, 2009 13:18:50 GMT -5
That is great. I can't wait until the real installment!
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Post by elphie on Mar 29, 2009 13:34:34 GMT -5
Thanks! Actually, I have to get back into writing it, since I've been either busy or asleep for the past few days.
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Post by Firefly on Mar 29, 2009 13:37:01 GMT -5
And that is fine, you deserve rest and busy is just human nature. Great job so far!
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Post by elphie on Mar 29, 2009 13:39:00 GMT -5
thanks. I must go eat lunch now. I spent half an hour cleaning dust out of my keyboard with a twisty-tie. a lot of crap for one little keyboard!
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Post by Firefly on Mar 29, 2009 13:41:07 GMT -5
lol
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Post by elphie on Mar 29, 2009 13:45:34 GMT -5
I was like, "d**n. that's a big hairball."
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Post by Firefly on Mar 29, 2009 13:50:05 GMT -5
lol
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Post by elphie on Mar 29, 2009 23:01:36 GMT -5
It's short, but a lot happens.
His face full of disgust, Mike hauled his father upright and marched him into the house. Michael winced at the loud slam of the screen door. “Thought you’d be long gone.” “I keep my promises,” Mike said, dragging the older man down the hallway and into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and got out some towels. “You get cleaned up. I’ll go pack some stuff for you. I’ll be back in an hour.” He shut the door and headed down the other hall. “KITT, you there?” “Where else would I go?” “Now’s not a good time to use the Smartass Program. What’ve you got on your onboard pharmacy that would help a hangover?” “Just a moment,” KITT said through the earpiece. “Most of what I have is for emergencies. But I do have aspirin.” “That’ll work. Got Tums or anything?” “No, nothing for an upset stomach.” “I do.” Mike jumped at the unfamiliar voice. “How did you get on this frequency?” “The Mustang gave me the encryption,” KITT 1.0 replied. “I have a container of Alka-Seltzer and a bottle of Pepto-Bismol in my glove compartment. Past experience reminds me that Michael tends to vomit quite a bit when he is drunk or hungover.” “That’s great,” Mike said awkwardly. “Look, uh, KITT…I’m glad you’re talking to me, but I don’t need two talking cars in my head.” “I understand. Goodbye.” Mike pushed open the bedroom door, dug a suitcase from the closet, and laid it open on the bed. The dresser, he found, was full of t-shirts and jeans, which he folded sloppily and tossed in the bag. Those were followed by a random handful of socks and underwear. Having mostly cleaned out the drawers, he moved on to the stuff on hangers—two black leather jackets, a few red shirts, and the suit Michael had worn to Jennifer Traceur’s funeral. Oddly touched, Mike laid it on the bed. As he turned away, something on the nightstand caught his eye. It was a duo of framed pictures. A five-year-old Mike sat grinning in his mother’s lap. Jennifer hugged him tightly, laughing, her eyes merry. In the picture next to it, Michael sat on the edge of a hospital bed hold Mike as a newborn. His other hand was entwined with Jennifer's. She was sound asleep. A lump formed in Mike’s throat. He picked up the pictures and put them carefully in his pocket. Then, after zipping up the suitcase, he headed out the front door into the yard. “Okay, you—” Mike pointed at KITT 2.0—“get that aspirin out. You—” he pointed at KITT 1.0—“get the Tums out, and open your trunk.” He put the luggage in the Trans-Am’s trunk and opened the passenger door to get into the glove box. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered. “He asked me not to,” KITT 1.0 whispered back. “He left you both, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.” “He said that?” “Not in so many words, but then, I know him very well.” “Thanks, KITT. I really mean that.”
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Post by Firefly on Mar 30, 2009 20:00:25 GMT -5
Great! Awesomeness!
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