Meghan: What?

I took one look at the inspirational posters and bright camp uniforms and ran the opposite direction.
Unfortunately I was immediately caught by the cheery counselors that guarded the perimeter.
“You’re going to have a good time!” they said happily as they dragged me back to the milling pod of trapped college students.
“We have to get out of here” I whispered as I was deposited back among the herd. My friends nodded unanimously.
“NO TALKING!” a loud voice boomed over our heads.
We looked for the source, perhaps there was some authority figure we could kill to escape this disaster.
“PAY NO ATTENTION TO THE MAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN!!” The voice continued, “YOU ARE HERE ON LOAN FROM YOUR COLLEGES TO HAVE FUN. AND FUN YOU WILL HAVE. NOW GO TO YOUR CABINS.”

I looked up from a map of the camp grounds at the pounding on our cabin door. Jasmine and Sarah waved at me to see who it was so I creaked it open. Nailed to it was a cloth bag dripping with what looked suspiciously like blood. I yanked it from the door and brought it inside. We gathered on one of the extra beds and I poured the bag’s contents out. It had three tiny dolls and many scraps of paper. I spun one of the bloody dolls on my palm, confused. It was a tiny figurine of the Disney princess Cinderella. Jasmine picked up a little princess Jasmine doll by her head and groaned. Sarah poked the Sleeping Beauty doll that remained then picked up a laminated card that had fallen from the bag. She read:
“Welcome campers! It’s your first day, so we thought we’d have a little scavenger hunt! Each of you has been assigned a figure and a puzzle. Unscramble the puzzle before everyone else and win a prize, lose the contest and there will be dire consequences. Have fun!”
I rolled my eyes, “Psychos.”
We started separating the words that came with the dolls into puzzles. Jasmine ended up with what looked like a kidnappers note in cut out newspaper letters. Sarah had well scripted directions, but mine was missing. I looked everywhere and finally found one sticky, blood stained word under the bed.
“Plant.”
“What?” Jasmine asked as she loaded shells into a rocket launcher.
“It just says plant. What does that mean?”
“No idea.” She clicked the last one in place, “See you later.”
“But—“ but she was gone.
I turned to Sarah, “Try a garden or something?” she suggested with a sad smile.
“Thanks.” I said as I left, wondering why she looked so sad.

After asking directions from many a counselor, I made my way to the camp director’s forbidden garden. The plastic happiness in their eyes seemed to wilt around the edges when they spoke of it, the last one I talked to practically begged me not to go. But with a stupid hint like ‘plant’ what else was I supposed to do? As the foliage grew denser and looked more gardeny, I dropped to an army crawl along the loamy earth. When I had crawled for what seemed like miles I reached a peak and looked over the hill down on a cabin surrounded by a small garden. The camp director plodded slowly down the rows of his garden, wearing old grimy clothes and a sun hat. He paid particular care to a row of new shoots close to the cabin. As he made his rotation around the house I sprinted down the hill as quietly as I could and pulled at one of the shoots. Up popped the strangest looking vegetable I’ve ever seen. Its head was bulbous and striped, tiny squinty eyes glared up at me in the sunlight, and its little limbs wiggled. I just stared at it, gaping. It stared right back for a second before its mouth cracked open. I knew either a bite or a scream was coming and I wrapped my arms around the thing’s head to keep it quiet. I heard the director coming and ran into the nearby forest. When I was clear I let the radish beast go, sitting cross-legged and watching it attempt to walk around me. It was very top-heavy and kept falling over, which was adorable, but I didn’t know what to do with it. Pretty soon it started chewing on my jeans and looking at me with pleading eyes; it was hungry. I popped it in the front of my jacket and went in search of radish food. After I had been walking for a while I came upon a lavender bush and the thing started squealing. I broke off some of the flowers and fed them to my radish baby. It squeed joyfully and started glowing. I frowned down at it in confusion, then fear as it started growing. And growing, and growing, and growing… It burst from my sweater in an explosion of fabric then stood before me as a full grown uber-radish. Its full throated roar shook the leaves of the jungle that surrounded us and I clapped my hands to my ears. Somewhere far away a camp director realized that one of his plants was missing. The uber-radish lowered its head and I climbed aboard, clinging to the leaves that topped its tuberous form.
“FOR PONY!!” I cried. And we rode off into the sunset to free my brethren from the tyranny of camp.













“So that’s it.” I concluded as I settled back further into the psychiatrist’s couch, “What does it mean?”
I looked over at her chair to find it empty.
“Mrs. Stevenson?”
“I’m over here dear,” she said as she held up a syringe to the light and flicked it with a fingernail to get the air bubbles to rise.
“Ah… What are you doing?”
I quickly sat up as she squirted a threatening stream of liquid from the syringe
“It’s a new medication I’d like to prescribe you, I think it would help.”
“With my dreams?”
She smiled at me, “With everything.”
Shit, I knew that smile. I stood up quickly and practically fell over the back of the couch in my hurry to put something between us.
“No, really, it’s okay, I don’t need any meds.”
Her heels clicked ominously on the tile, “I’m a doctor, and I think you do.”
She rounded the couch and I sprinted around the other side, slipping a little on the floor to slam into the door. I scrambled at the handle as she stalked toward me and was relieved to feel it give under my fingers.
I stumbled into the hall screaming, “Mango, mango, MANGO!!!”
I looked down the empty hall in horror, where were…?
I heard a nasty thwacking sound behind me and turned to find Doug standing over a fallen Mrs.Stevenson, holding a baseball bat. Jasmine knelt down to check her pulse.
“No go?” Doug asked me sympathetically. I shook my head, breathing hard from the adrenaline.
“Can we please change the stupid safe word?”
“No.” Jasmine said, “It entertains me.”
I groaned, “Now what?”
Doug consulted a notebook covered with scribbles, “There’s a neurologist in Thailand who’s supposed to be…medically flexible?”
“To Thailand?”
“Thailand!”



-M

Jasmine: I'm not sick

“I’m not sick!” I protested trying unsuccessfully to hold back a hacking cough. That had just started today. Before it was just a runny nose that no allergy medication could touch.

“Yes you are. Did you make a doctor’s appointment?” Doug was steering me towards something that looked suspiciously like my bed. When did we leave Starbucks?

“Doctor’s appointment!” I sputtered wiping a trail of mucus on the back of my hand, “but it’s only a cold a doctor couldn’t do anything for that. Virus. Wait it out.” I was lying in bed. At least the lost time was getting shorter.

“Not for that, for your asthma.”

“I don’t have asthma.” I narrowed my eyes at him from flat on my back. Unfortunately this led to my eyes closing.

“Right, I’ll let a doctor decide.”

“mrrrr” My eyes wouldn’t open, there was something I needed to resist wasn’t there?

“Go to sleep”

“mrrrr”

“Goodnight Jasmine.”

“Goodnight”




"Living is a sickness to which sleep provides relief every sixteen hours. It's a palliative. The remedy is death."
Nicolas de Chamfort

Read and Consider

This is the monthly newsletter from my favorite tea store. Please consider helping keep it alive.

Thanks,
Sarah
________________________________________________________

New Mexico Tea Company has been open four years this November. Every summer is a challenge for a tea store in the desert, but this summer the economy and hot weather have finally caught up with us. As many of you have experienced, we are out of stock on half of our teas and products; there is simply no money to reorder more. This is a dangerous position to be in for a retail store. As we have less to sell, our revenue goes down, leaving less money to buy new things, which in turn results in even fewer sales. We need to break the cycle.

Background:

Normally we are able to save during the winter months (our busiest season) so that we have funds to carry us through the summer. However this past year we were operating the Tea Bar at a loss, and therefore now find ourselves up against a wall. Our day-to-day revenue is enough to pay all the bills, but not enough to order more tea. We are about to run out of tea, and if this happens the store will close. We need $5,000 to pay off our vendors and order more tea.

Whatever happens I will run the Tea Store until PNM turns off the electricity and the landlords kick us out for non-payment. But I hope that it does not come to that. I have conceived of a plan to get us through the next two months (our slowest time), and I need your help.

The Plan:

I believe in the power of micro-lending. I talked about it in a previous newsletter and encouraged everyone to use a site called Kiva to lend money to small businesses in third world countries. Now I am asking you to micro-lend money to New Mexico Tea Company. For the next week we are selling gift-cards that can be redeemed starting in December. If you buy a $50 gift card, it will be worth $55. A $100 gift card will be worth $115. We are using PayPal so that if we do not get enough investment to stay open this summer, we can issue a full refund to you. Once purchased I will e-mail you the gift certificate to print out.

I also want to give some of our customers the opportunity to lend a larger amount of money as a pure cash investment. You can lend $500 or $1000 for a 10% return paid back in six payments from December to May. Again, if we don't make it through the summer, then you would get a refund for the full amount of the loan.

Finally, we are starting an exclusive Tea Club. It will cost $10 per month to be a member. Membership entitles you to receive two ounces of a special tea we do not sell in the store every month. You will also have access to our VIP room upstairs (starting in August) which will be stocked with our most interesting teas and tea gadgets. Membership will allow you to make yourself a cup of tea and use our Wi-fi, chat with other tea drinkers, or read a book in the serene comfort of the tea store.

Conclusion:

Last month I was able to go to China because 16 people bought our China Tea Package before I left. Without their kind investment I would not have been able to make the trip. We are now in a real pickle; however, I will be able to keep supplying the best tea to Albuquerque with the help of similar investments. I am hoping you have enough faith in me and the store to invest your money with us.

Thank you,
David Edwards
President - NM Tea Co. Inc.
Office: 505-962-2137 Cell: 505-730-6501

1131 Mountain Rd. NW STE 2
Albuquerque, NM 87102

Doug: The Fight

“Let’s go.”

I’d be willing to bet anything he’s not expecting the straight punch to the face that snaps his head back like a whip. Two years ago he would have broken my wrist before I could get five inches from his nose. Now blood erupts forth like a fountain, splattering all over the mat.

I’m on him in a flash, knowing that the second he recovers and realizes he’s fighting for his life will be the second my fate will be sealed. Punch after punch rails down on his head and face. I feel a knucklebone crack but keep up my blows.

He reels. Hands come up and bat weakly at my arms. A vicious kick to his gut reminds him to cover his solar plexus. I cannot believe this is happening. This man used to be a god. He could fight like no other. I once watched him take down six armed assailants with just his hands. Now I, the untrained pup, beat him like a child.

He collapses to the ground. Rage fills me. “GET UP! WEAKLING! I COULDN’T HAVE LAID A HAND ON YOU A FEW YEARS AGO!” I want to punch him again and again until my knuckles show bone.

Blood and spit cover his face, making a mask of red. I can see the shame burning behind his eyes. He knows. Knows that he’s been beaten by someone weaker than him.

Bitter, disgusted, I drop my hands from their defensive guard. “You’ve forgotten who you are; shamed yourself. And me.” I can’t even look at him anymore.

That’s why the leg sweep surprised me. In a flash I’m on my back and he is pummeling me. I can see the feral glint in his eye, the killer instinct that has returned in his moment of shame. I fight back, but he’s running on something base now, an energy that I’ve never been able to harness, my blows are unfelt.

I have no chance. In minutes I am beaten to a bloody pulp. Two black eyes, I’m sure a few of my ribs are cracked, and my nose is pouring blood like a faucet. I struggle to stand, and stare blearily at the hand that is proffered, not realizing what it is for a full second. “Good fight.” He mumbles from between cut and swollen lips.

“You fucking kicked my ass.” I mutter. We’re leaning against each other for support, staggering towards the crowd that has gathered to watch our bloody mat room spectacle. Some blonde bimbo with a fake tan asks why we were fighting.

The man at my side laughs, I can feel it hurt him. “I forgot who I was for a little while. My brother had to remind me.”

I grin and that hurts too, but it feels right, and that’s all that matters.

-Doug

"There are many here among us that feel that life is but a joke."
Bob Dylan "All Along the Watchtower"

Sarah: Question

Readers, whom I often offend with what seems to be closed mindedness, you get to decide - should I revamp the site to look more like a modern blog? And if so, should I keep using the infamous lake photo from where the five of us used to camp?

I would love to hear your ideas. Thanks!

~Sarah, the html and blogger-site manager for the Fear Five

Meghan and Jasmine: Spy Fetus

The computer is hot against my thighs. They do that. Computers that is. They get hot and stick to things especially when I don’t put on pants.

There’s a cat perched on my shoulder. Not sure how he fits anymore but somehow he manages.

Meghan is lying on her back next to me no longer drugged out of her mind but I plan on redrugging her before sleep and tomorrow and forever.

I’m hungry. It seems like all I do is sleep and eat and rage against the world for being stuck in this apartment for going on three days. I’m amazed Jasmine hasn’t knocked me unconscious and locked me in the closet or something. Hopefully by consuming everything in the fridge I will gain miraculous healing powers and be fixed in a day or so. Or I’ll just run out of food and be unable to get more.

She won’t let me drive. No one trusts me behind a wheel. It’s irritating because I think I would make a good driver, and it’s practical because Meghan hopping into the grocery store like a deranged rabbit would cause parking lot accidents.

Loki is still on my shoulder. I don’t understand. He does this, he buries his head into my hair and breaths deep of the drug that is me. I’m like catnip or something. It works on people sometimes too but tends to be more awkward when strangers attach to me like leeches.

I have been instilled with great confusing feelings towards babies. All of the pregnant people on television seem to be losing their fetus’ when they sneeze, whereas the young teenagers who don’t want babies are the most likely to produce perfectly healthy children. So I have decided to make a baby then freeze it in time until I choose to raise it. This is the only solution. Okay, I’m kidding, calm down, but wouldn’t it be easier if there was just a general pool of babies? If when you were ready for a child you could just have one without the health issues or the endless red tape that goes with adoption? It seems overly complex.

When she first typed the paragraph above it read “loosing” instead of “losing” babies. I’m now imagining fetus’ forming out of snot balls like those little grow sponge dinosaurs. Just add water. You sneeze, a mini fetus appears in the Kleenex or hand and grows into a fully formed baby, then you send it off into the world, “loose” it on the world. Fetus attack! Guard Fetus’! Spy Fetus! The next Disney movie!

Meghan is going to paint now so I think this blog might be over.

Yes it is. Painting!

Meghan: Stir crazy

My eyes flicked open to see Jasmine’s face inches from mine. Her hand curled a blanket under her chin and her eyelashes brushed her cheeks in sleep. Slowly and painfully I slid down the length of the bed to roll onto the floor, trying to keep the cast on my foot from smacking into something and waking her up. I used a dresser to pull myself up so I was standing on my one good foot, then hopped awkwardly into the closet and pulled on a shirt and shorts. When I was clothed I peeked out to find her still sleeping.

Success.

I dropped to the floor and army-crawled across the scratchy carpet into the next room. A small black kitten leaped on my back and I batted him away gently as I reached for my keys. The click of unlocking the door seemed deafeningly loud. I held my breath as I opened the door, listening for sounds of Jasmine waking up in the apartment. When all was silent I breathed in the sweet, sweet air of the outdoors and pulled myself to my feet with the doorframe, preparing to hop out. A low growling noise made me turn. Jasmine stood at the entrance to the bedroom, holding the black kitten that had probably gone and woke her up when I refused to play with him. I glared at the traitorous kitten then made a leap for the exit, hoping that her lack of clothes might keep her in the house. But I should have known better. With a thump that knocked my breath out she crashed into my fleeing back, face planting me into the grass. Post-surgery as I was I couldn’t put up much of a fight, but I wiggled my arms and remaining leg in protest as she straddled my back and looped a rope around my struggling limbs. With a strength that someone her size shouldn’t have, she yanked me to my feet.

“Hop.” She said grimly.

“Jasmine I—“

“HOP!”

“I JUST WANTED A LATTE!!! I’VE BEEN IN THE HOUSE FOR DAYS, I’M SO FREAKING BORED!!!!” My shouts lost most of their threat as my tiny, mostly naked girlfriend continued to corral me back to the house.

“Do you want to have more surgery?” She asked icily, “If you re-break something, next time you’ll be handcuffed to the bed.”

I turned to growl at her again but noticed we were gathering an audience. Small Hispanic children in swimsuits stared at us with huge eyes and a small group of college boys were taking long pulls from their cigarettes while they watched the show. My face flushed and I hopped inside the apartment quickly. Jasmine turned to wave before pulling the door closed, collapsing with laughter against the wall. I fell onto my back, looking like a stunted water beetle with my broken foot suspended in the air.

“What if they complain to management?” I moaned

“They’ve seen us do worse.” Jasmine giggled.

I sighed, she was probably right.

“Anyway,” she stretched her arms above her head, “I want more sleep.” Her hands paused at the knots in my bindings, “Are you going to behave?”

I gave her my most innocent face, “Of course.”

She sighed and released my ropes, indicating that I should hop ahead of her back to bed. I lay back on the bed, exhausted from the small outing but still plotting another on. Jasmine laced her fingers through mine and I turned to her, smiling. But the smile turned to a grimace as I heard the click of a lock and found myself handcuffed to a lamp. I expressed my displeasure with a muffled scream.

“Goodnight.” Jasmine said, kissing me lightly before curling up once more with her blanket. I curled up around her back, happiness battling with stir-craziness.

“Heal faster, stupid foot.” I whispered.

-M