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The Daughters of Miss Violet Parr
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Violet Parr
Violet Parr

Feb-25-2009 03:59

Leopold Parr walked as fast as he possibly could in and around Victoria Station. The young officer had anticipated the arrival of his younger sister with great trepidation. He finally saw her waiting for him in a mauve overcoat and a large purple hat through the window of one of the station’s waiting rooms.

When Miss Violet Parr got up and walked out of the waiting room, Leopold’s walk turned into a sprint as he finally reached Violet and hugged her tightly in a collision of joy.

Violet pushed hard against his force not to fall on her back. She kissed him on the cheek and whispered. “Really Leopold, this show of affection can do with some self-restraint!”

“Two years in France…” Leopold replied, “…haven’t changed you a bit!”

“I know better than to let the French freely mold me to their pleasing!” Violet Parr huffed in a mock of indignation. Then she turned her gaze to a young girl standing next to her looking curiously and cautiously at Leopold. “…but I am afraid I can’t say the same about young Isabella.”

Leopold looked at his young niece in utter astonishment: Isabella was a pretty little thing with curiously mixed features. At such a young age, her skin looked like a yellowish tanned shade of ivory. She had long light brown hair, hazel eyes and a serious look of disapproval on her face.


Joey "Bulldog" Bane
Washed Up Punter

Feb-25-2009 16:24

“Damn rain!” he said raising the flask up to his lips again. A sudden screeching noise made him drop the small bottle. It sounded as if something had broke inside the engine. He then felt that the steering wheel had gotten stuck into his hand. He hit the brakes in an attempt to stop. “Wrong move!” He lost complete control over the car. A slide…Bane looked ahead and realized an imminent collision to a tree. He covered his eyes with his hand in a last futile gesture of protection. His life got one more flashback in his eyes before he crashed…and everything turned black.

Violet Parr
Violet Parr

Feb-26-2009 04:01

**London, 7:36 p.m. that evening**

Miss Violet Parr absent-mindedly took a spoonful from Isabella’s plate at dinner and attempted feeding her daughter yet another spoonful. To her slight dismay she was met with a tightly shut mouth and a single word. “Non!”

Miss Parr was a loving but impatient mother. “Oh come now Isabella, it’s sweet potato and carrot... It can’t possibly be that bad.”

Isabella turned her face up to the side in defiance. “Laissez-moi tranquille!”

“We don’t speak French in England, Isabella.” Violet reprimanded. “Now repeat after me: Leave… Me… Alone…” Miss Parr then disoriented, shrugged. “Oh what am I doing… I’m teaching her how to talk back to me!” She then absent-mindedly ate the spoonful of sweet potato and carrot mush herself. “Oh, that’s horrid!”

“Horrid!” A sound came from the other side of the table where Victoria sat eating her own dinner.

“Oh dear God,” Violet went pale. “Please do not let that be her first word.”

“Horrid!” Victoria repeated.

Isabella giggled then spoke in French. “Horrible!”

Violet rolled her eyes but was too exhausted to lecture or respond. She had anticipated caring for only one child. Having two at once was a lot, she discovered, for a first time mother. Nevertheless, she figured she will have plenty of time in the future to instill some much needed manners in Isabella especially.

She picked up Victoria in one arm and Isabella in the other. She walked across to her bedroom. The two girls were already dressed in miniature night gowns, Isabella in mustard and Victoria in plum. She set each girl in a matching colour coded crib and gave them each a bottle of warm milk. “Good night my darlings…” She ringed.

As she walked out of the bedroom she heard two shouts of a “Bonne nuit maman,” and another “Horrid!”

Violet Parr
Violet Parr

Feb-26-2009 04:06

She made her way back to the dining room again and sat to reread a telegram she received earlier that day.


She hugged the telegram to her chest to read the other one she’d received.


“Oh, Lady Lancaster,” Violet sighed. “I’m afraid you are much too serious even for my taste.” With once last look at Clift's telegram, she threw both letters in the garbage bin.

She sat at her desk and started writing a detailed letter to Miss Makensie Brewer.

An hour later she was done and was enclosing a picture of Isabella and Victoria together with their Uncle Leopold.

As she sealed the letter, she looked out the window into the London night. Somewhere out there, she felt would encounter a very familiar face soon.


Joey "Bulldog" Bane
Washed Up Punter

Feb-27-2009 07:45

“…ok now…drag him out slowly…” Bane heard a voice like in a dream. “…don’t hit his head Mo, he’s already bleeding…” It sounded to be the voice of an old man.

“…quit ordering me around, Manny! I know exactly what I’m doing…” The second voice seemed also to come from an old man. He felt someone grabbing his arm and trying to lift him up.

“…yeah, like you did two days ago when you fell out of the barn…Don’t pull him by the arm…lift his feet first!...” Joey now felt that someone grabbed his feet. He tried to open his eyes, but everything was blurry. The only thing he could tell was that in front of him there was a fire burning.

“…I told you, Manny…I DID NOT FALL!...I jumped!...Stop bringing that up and STOP pulling on his legs…get over here and help me…”

“…NO…YOU get over here!...”

“…STOP PULLING, Manny!...can’t you see I’m dragging from the other side?...” Bane felt as if at the same time he was both dragged by his feet AND by his arms.

Everything started to get foggy and he passed out again.


“…if you would have listened to me in the first place, Mo…it wouldn’t have taken us half an hour to get this guy out of that car…” Bane realized he was again awake and being dragged by both his hands this time.

“…stop acting like you’re smarter than me, Manny…you never were!...”

“…oh yes I was…”

“…was NOT!...”

“…I WAS! And I still AM! quit arguing with me and lift him up carefully…carefully…CAREFULLY!!!” With this Bane felt his head was dropping. A sudden powerful burn then penetrated the back of his head.

His vision got black again, but not before hearing Mo’s voice still like in a dream: “YOU DROPPED HIM!?!”


Joey "Bulldog" Bane
Washed Up Punter

Feb-27-2009 07:46

Joey came back to his senses feeling as if he was ran over by a train. He tried to open his eyes, but his eye leads felt painfully heavy, so he decided to wait a bit more before attempting again. The strong noise of an engine running was surrounding him from all sides. He realized he was laid on his back and all his body was shaking. It seemed as if he was somewhere in the back of a truck.

Suddenly Bane felt something wet dropping on his face. ‘Damn rain’ he thought wiping his face with his hand, still lying down on his back. He noticed then that whatever was on his face was somehow…sticky! “Strange rain…” he mumbled while pricking his ear to catch a strange sound…like someone was breathing fast. He finally opened his eyes…”SWEET MOTHER OF JESUS!?!”

Above him was hanging the largest dog head he ever saw. It looked like a Bulldog, but yellow. His mouth was wide open and drooling all over Bane’s face. The dog’s tongue was hanging limp on a side. He seemed to be smiling somehow. ‘Disgusting!’ Bane grumbled again, while checking the rest of the body attached to this head. It was a full size French Mastiff…and one a bit overgrown for that matter.

Bane tried to get his head up and see where he was. The dog’s eyes then suddenly pointed him. “I hope you had breakfast already, big guy” said Bane laying still. The dog then started to thoroughly smell him and ended his search by licking him once. “Freaking disgusting!” said Bane once again. While taking a quick look around from where he was laying, he finally realized he was indeed in the back of an uncovered truck and it was already morning. He tried to sit up, but the dog’s growl made him reconsider. Another growl came as he attempted again. He finally decided to quit. He wasn’t actually feeling like moving too much considering his current condition after the crash. He laid there waiting for something to happen. At some point he fell back asleep.


Joseph Zeo
Joseph Zeo
Tale Spinner

Feb-27-2009 12:54

**The Port of London, Early Morning**

Born and bred at the Big Apple, Joseph Zeo never imagined venturing across the oceans. Water was not his element, neither was unfamiliar landscapes. As the ship approached the Port of London, Zeo had second thoughts about this ‘change of scenery’, but then, he didn't have much of a choice.

Lisette's death loitered in his head day and night. Walking alone on the streets of New York, Zeo always ‘saw’ his loved one with him, past memories mingled with the present, lingering like an after image from intense flashlight. Reminiscence of her was everywhere, and it pained Zeo intensely. Eventually, Zeo feared to venture out. He stayed home, unable to work, rotting away within the dungeon in his mind. His agency remained only in name, all customers had drifted away. Zeo didn’t even bother to close down the business.

“We’ll be landing soon, ready for the big adventure?” Gregory asked while Zeo inhaled the nicotine from his cigarette. Zeo gazed at the foggy shoreline, oblivious to his friend’s excitement.

Gregory took out his little journal book, “Let me see now… yes, this is the address. We’re so lucky they are giving us residence you know. All we need is to find out how to get there, and report in tomorrow. Don’t worry Joseph, we will have a wonderful time!”

Zeo smiled and threw the cigarette butt into the water. He really did appreciate everything Gregory was doing for him, but his enthusiasm was sometimes too much to bear. Zeo decided to head back to their cabin to start packing.

Makensie Brewer
Makensie Brewer
Super Steeper

Feb-27-2009 14:38

**New York - early afternoon**

Makensie left her apartment, leaving her son with her friend, Ms Cevasco, who is living with them.

As she walked, she thought about her friend, Violet Parr, and how she missed talking to her.

She walked in her agency, and just as she was beginning to walk up the steps to her office, the agency clerk, Barnabas, stopped her.

"Oh , Ms Brewer, Im glad to see you. You have a telegram", he said, with a pleasant smile.

She took the telegram, and thanked him, smiling.

Quickly making her way to her office, she shut the door, and went to her desk to sit down.

She began to read:

Ms Brewer STOP
I hope this finds you well STOP
I've been thinking about you STOP
Have time for London? STOP

Your friend always, with love STOP
Violet Parr STOP

Smiling, she thought, A visit is just what I need.

She locked up her office, ran down the stairs, and quickly said to Barnabas, as she made her way to the door, "Barnabas, take any messages for me. I will be gone for atleast a week"

"...but, where are you going, Ms Brewer?", he said.

Makensie peeks back in the door, and says, "I will be in touch"


Back at her apartment, Makensie packed her suitcase, and was giving Ms C instructions on what to feed Cody.

"Make sure he doesnt have too much candy, Ms Cevasco, you know what a terror he can become", she said, with a chuckle.

"Dont you worry, Mak, this isnt my first child Ive ever taken care of, and he will be quite fine. Now you go have yourself a nice visit with Ms Parr", Ms C said, giving her a hug.

Makensie gave her little boy a hug, and a kiss, and she was off to London, to see her dear friend Violet Parr.

Joey "Bulldog" Bane
Washed Up Punter

Feb-27-2009 15:38

“Hey, look Mo, Pierre likes this guy!” The voice startled Joey up from his sleep. He opened his eyes, but closed the back quickly, attempting to shake off the face of the dog. He then opened them back up…it was still there. Submitted, Bane looked at the sky. The sun told him it was already midday. He must’ve slept a few hours. He then spread his legs to see what was going on in front of him without lifting his head. He noticed two men were looking at him. They both looked like time had forgotten about them. They also wore both some blue overcoats whose sleeves had been sometime ripped off. They had their heads covered with wide brimmed white hats that also looked as if they had seen better times…and that was a long time ago. All in all…they looked like a couple of old farmers.

“He’s up, Manny! I tell you: he’s up!”

“I see, Mo! Unlike you, I still have good sight.”

“Hey, guys, cut that out!” interrupted them Joey. “Now…I assume you two pulled me out of the car.”

“You’re damn right we did! You crashed hard, you know!”

“Ok…thank you…I guess. Now…Manny, could you help me out with this dog? It seems he’s not willing to let me make any move.”

“I’m Mo. That one’s Manny” the old man corrected Bane.

“Same thing to me, Mo. Now…the dog, please?”

“I can’t. He don’t listen to me. He ain’t mine.”

Bane then turned his eyes towards Manny. “Ok, then you help me.”

“I can’t help you, lad” he replied. “He ain’t listening to me either.”

“But…it’s YOUR dog!” Bane was already desperate.

“Yeah…somehow…yeah…actually…he belongs to my wife.”

“So…where is your wife?” A slight ray of hope appeared in Joey’s eyes.

“She died...a couple of years back…she was my fifth wife!”

“She was your fourth, Manny! You ain’t never had five wives!”

“She was my FIFTH, Mo! I know how to count better my wives!”

Joey "Bulldog" Bane
Washed Up Punter

Feb-27-2009 15:39

Bane was exhausted. Seeing he was getting nowhere with the two ‘ancients’ he decided to address directly to the dog. “Go, doggy! Shoo! Get out of here! Leave me alone!” The animal didn’t move a muscle.

“That ain’t gonna work, stranger! Pierre don’t speak English, you know…” Many smiled.

“Pierre? The dog’s name’s Pierre? What the hell kind of name is that for a dog? And what do you mean ‘he doesn’t speak English’?”

“The name is French. The dog is French. My wife was…”

“French!” interrupted him Bane. “I get it. Now…is there any way to communicate with this dog?”

“Not as far as I know” Replied Manny. “He does what he pleases, you see. He though seems to like you.”

“Now that gives a new definition to ‘rough love’” mumbled Bane.

As Joey felt like he was losing his minds, salvation appeared and looked him right in the eyes: a cat had jumped right into the back of the truck. Pierre’s body froze as if something had suddenly turned him into a statue. The next second he jumped like an arrow straight to the cat. He chased her until they both disappeared behind some building. “Thank God!” shouted Bane, finally sitting up.

By looking around he realized they were somewhere inside the parking lot of a motel. He felt that he had enough of the ‘fossils’, so he gracefully thanked them and went on his way. Before he took off heading for the reception, Joey was more than pleased to find out the old men had been considerate enough to also pick up his luggage out of the burning car. They said farewell as the truck had took off with a strong cracking and screeching noise, as if the engine was about to fall on the ground.

Joey "Bulldog" Bane
Washed Up Punter

Feb-27-2009 15:40

A fat middle age lady was sitting at the reception.

“Hello there, Miss. I’d like to…”

“We have only one room left…” she cut off his talk. “The matrimonial suit. Take it or leave it!”

“I don’t want a room, but…” he looked amazed out the window. No car in the parking lot, no soul was around. It seemed the only people there were him and this lady. “Do Englishmen like to take long walks or something?” he asked looking ironically into her eyes.

“Your rudeness is not appreciated, Mister.” She rose on her toes and looked somewhere down at Bane’s feet. “We also don’t allow dogs in our rooms.”

“What freaking do…” Bane stopped his sentence as he looked down and discovered…”Pierre!?!” He then rushed out on the door to shout after the two old men. No point. They were already far and the only thing on the road was a thick cloud of dust. As he decided to quit and turn back, a car passed by him at high speed and splattered him head to toe in mud. “I HATE ENGLAND!” he shouted, upon spitting dirt out of his mouth. “Lousy cars…lousy roads…lousy weather…lousy EVERYTHING!”

He then headed back towards the reception. “Lady, that ain’t my dog.” While looking around the room he noticed Pierre was now gone. “Where did he go, anyway?”

“Your dog? I don’t know.”

“I told you: he’s not…arrrgggh…forget it. I changed my mind though. I do want a room…need to freshen up a bit.”

A couple of minutes later he opened the door to the matrimonial suit. He threw off his bag and his clothes and entered straight under the shower.

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