Page 147 of Nearly Roadkill
TOOBE ENTRY
I hate when adults are right. I would’ve snuck into The Rally if Gwynyth hadn’t threatened me with permanent kitty litter duty. If I’d gone, it would have ended in tears, just like she warned. It all started fine. Way fine. See this report I got from Orlio.
To:Toobe@Farm Reports.org.Monsterride.santacruz
From:[email protected]
Subj:Comin’ Down!
I’m not making it up when I say everyone in the *world* is here! We’re all in rooms called “The Rally,” You know how when there’s an overflow in one room, another one gets created automatically and it’s called, “The Rally 2”? Well each room maxes out at 500 attendees, and now, I’m hanging out in “The Rally 1029.” Heehee.
There’s newspaper reporters; e-zine types; a whole group of deaf people; people from role-playing game rooms; people with multiple personalities. It’s like a street fair. People selling Scratch and Winc T-shirts, buttons, commemorative dinner plates, and I’m not kidding: Scratch and Winc holsters!
END TOOBE ENTRY
Sample “true accounts” of Scratch and Winc encounters
BarBun:Scratch is the best online lover I’ve ever been with!
HotHead:Too right there, grrl!
BarBun:Uh huh! Knows how to take time, build things up.
HotHead:She knows what fingers are for!
BarBun:She?
HotHead:Huh?
BarBun:He.
HotHead:She.
BarBun:He.
HotHead:Scratch is all grrl, you spritzhead!
BarBun:::tossing hair:: I know a real man when I see one, you tramp!
Tale2Tell:Winc and I switch a *lot*! I love that about hir.
Barnabus:Aw, that’s sick!
Tale2Tell:No. You get to be everything, not just one thing.
Barnabus:::cautiously:: What exactly does that mean?
Tale2Tell:Guess you’ll just have to go explore, Barnabus. ::kiss::
NARRATIVE ENTRY, JABBATHEHUT
Wally Budge and Shelly Dunlap know it’s bad the moment they pull into the parking lot. Every light in the place is burning except Budge’s office. Like a Christmas tree with one bad bulb.
“Ohhh,” Shelly laughs. “Look what you started!”
Her laughter is infectious, as always, and Budge starts chuckling—he can’t stop until he reaches his desk. Every alarm and whistle on his computer is flashing or beeping, demanding “read me, read me!” Wearily, he reads:
To:Ms. Budge
