-----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE----- Tuck Season, Wabbit Season, Tuck Season! Part 22 -*- Copyright 1999, 2012 by either Joel Lawrence or Ellen Hayes Any resemblance between the writings in this work, and any actual persons or places, living or dead, are purely coincidental, except when used for satirical purposes. This work contains adult situations, adult language, adult concepts, and possibly sex. If you are legally not allowed to read materials containing such things, then you will be breaking the law by reading this. I am not responsible. Continuing to read this document, or storing it or reproducing it in any format means that you explicitly affirm that you are legally allowed to possess and read such materials in your city, county/parish, state, and country. All rights reserved. See the bottom for distribution rights. *** "Huh," Darryl said, surprised to not find Valerie in the kitchen this morning. "Maybe she's actually sleeping for once? She was up late enough last night." "BEE-" Tucker's hand lashed out and killed the robot before it could kill him. When Darryl checked the clock again, it was six-thirty, and he hadn't seen ANYONE else. *I think I'll go check on the girls... Charlene's usually down for coffee before now. And Valerie... well, maybe she's sleeping. I hope so; she seemed like she needed it.* The door burst open and Tucker knew it was the goon squad coming to get him, so he rolled off the bed and threw a chaff out of his backpack at the goon- Except it was Darla, squeaking as she ducked the cloth-and-Tyvek distraction, not a bunch of goons, and not his sister either. "Don't you people KNOCK!?" he yelled at her. "What are you doing in HERE?! This isn't your room!" "I was SLEEPING!" Tucker screamed back. "Now get OUT!" She slammed the door, but with her on the other side of it he didn't care. Kenneth had just decided that the dueling banshees didn't matter to him when his alarm went off. *Oh... shit,* he sighed. "What was that thing you threw at her?" Charlie asked as he bent to pick it up. "This thing." "Oh," Valerie replied. When Charlie looked at her, she was kneeling at the side of the bed, looking very stupified. "Valerie?" "Huh?" He waggled the thing at her. "Oh, that's a chaff." "A what?" She sighed and blinked a few times, which seemed to wake her out of her trance. "Something to throw at people to distract them. Like throwing stars." "It's sharp?" he asked, looking at the thing. It looked like a scarf or handkerchief tied around a small rubber ball, with a few strips of plastic or thick paper. "No, it's not sharp," she groaned. "Throwing stars are totally useless if you want to hurt someone, I mean like serious injury, a stop. But, they're sharp enough that they hurt if they hit, so people duck 'em. Like this," as she threw something at his head. Charlie ducked, though it would've missed anyway, but when he looked up, she'd disappeared. "Valerie?" Tucker thought, *Maybe I could just stay here and sleep... No, they'd find me eventually.* Though Charlene hadn't, yet. She walked around - he could see her feet - to the other side of the bed, and called, "Valerie?" again. *Wait for it...* Her feet finally turned to the side again, towards the bathroom, and Tucker kicked his backpack frame on one side to attract her attention that way, and slid out the other and shoved his hands hard into the backs of Charlene's knees. Of course she fell on him, making a lot of unhappy noises indicating she'd been Completely Surprised, but he was expecting that and did some wriggling - and got hit a few times - until he could get her in his world-famous scissors lock. When she stopped yelling for a moment, he said, "Gotcha." She hit him, like he expected, so he parried with his arms and squeezed with his legs until she stopped. "Admit you've been defeated and I'll let you go," he told her. "Fine! You won, okay?!" He unlocked and threw himself away from her, which turned out to be a wise move because she tried to kick him; but, since he wasn't there, she missed. "Ahhht," he warned. Valerie was grinning at Charlie like she was ready to do some more wrestling. "You- You PRICK!" he yelled at her, then got up and went around her to the bathroom and slammed the door. "Oh, happy day," Tucker sighed as he leaned back against the bed. "I think I start wedging the door shut when I sleep. 'N maybe the closet too." One wedge per door wasn't very secure, but HE had an attic access in HIS closet, back home - so Jane could have 'em too - and those worked in both directions. "C'mon, wakey wakey," he told himself, and finally managed to get to his feet. "Recycle the chaffs..." Charlene had dropped both of them, so he could put them back in his pack and leave. "No, wait," he said as he remembered the robe thing he'd come in with. "Can't break up the set..." He staggered across the hallway to his room, and shut the door. "What time is it, anyway? Oh SHIT!" Art looked at the pills Jane had placed in his hands with revulsion. "Art!" Then Jane's eyes narrowed at Art, and the corner of her mouth quirked up. "Take your pills like a good girl, and you'll get a treat." He didn't think they had time for THAT, but he knew that he'd like whatever it was, so he swallowed his resentment and gulped the pills, chasing them with a full glass of water. When he'd finished the glass, Jane was still smiling at him, as she grabbed his head and pulled his lips to hers for a kiss. Charlie was running late - for some reason, probably Valerie, his alarm clock had been unplugged and on the floor - and so had to hurry getting dressed for breakfast. About the time he was going out his door, though, he heard Valerie throw herself down the stairs and shriek in pain. "Good." "She said she got some inner tubes?" Darryl mentioned to the table. "To cut up and make rubber pads, to glue to the bottoms of shoes, so she'd have traction on the stairs." "That might be a good idea," Jane said. "She wanted to do it yesterday, but I thought we needed to work on her makeup instead." "Perhaps this morning. Good morning Valerie," Jane said pointedly as a disheveled Valerie appeared in the doorway. "You're late." "Yes ma'am; I overslept," she said as she made her way to her seat. "You need to be HERE in time for breakfast, every morning, Valerie. Good morning, Charlene," she said as Charlene made her belated way to the table. "Excuse me for being late, Miz Thompson. I apologize," Charlene said as she seated herself. "Why are the two of you late?" Jane asked. The two girls looked at each other. "My clock was unplugged," Charlene said, as she glared at Valerie. "And on the floor." "I think I did that," Valerie said. "You THINK?" Jane repeated incredulously. "I was asleep at the time!" she protested, before rubbing her eyes. "I think I'm still asleep." "I think you just trashed your eye makeup," Darryl told her. "Huh?" she said as she looked at him, and she had. "Makeup before breakfast is just fucking wrong," Tucker sighed. Another glance in the mirror made him wince. "WRONG," he said, but nobody cared but him. He pulled out one of his anti-makeup wipes and started removing the makeup so he could replace it. "She asked to sleep with me," Charlie admitted. "Really late, like eleven? I was already in bed; she knocked at the door and asked. And... And I said 'yes'." After a very long time, Jane asked, "Why?" like he knew she was going to. "Because! She said she slept better with me around, and she needed some sleep- I thought maybe she'd get all argumentative and stuff if she didn't." That hadn't worked worth a damn. "Well, Valerie," Jane said as Tucker came back into the dining room, "you were late to breakfast, and then had to leave the table again because of a mistake you made. Neither of these are especially adult behaviors. I think you need a reminder to work on your manners, and proper gestures, before you should be allowed to go clothes shopping again." Tucker sighed, but there was no hope. He certainly couldn't afford more than a couple of dresses on his own, and it was too far to walk. But, parentals not being satisfied with punishments, he was sure he had to acknowledge it too. "Yes ma'am." "Now, hurry up and eat," she told him. Tucker looked at his food, which he hadn't made, which Charlene hadn't made, and decided that while his stomach wasn't objecting YET, he didn't need to give it an excuse to use later. *Plus,* he realized, *if I DO hurry, she'll whack me for eating too fast or not ladylike or something. Maybe all of the above.* "Valerie," Jane prompted. "Yes ma'am," Tucker sighed. *Fruit might work.* "May I have some of the honeydew, please?" he asked Kenneth, who passed the fruit platter. Fruit worked, he confirmed. "Well, I didn't cook it," Valerie told Charlie, "so I have to clean it up, right?" "I didn't cook it either," he snapped. Instead of replying, she got a funny look on her face. Then she said, "Charlene?" He had to wait for a few moments, to get his temper under control. "Yes?" "I'm sorry for this morning, earlier," she said. "I'm used to, to, that sort of light fighting, and I didn't mean anything by it." "So you just throw things at me and tackle me and hold me down and stuff, and you didn't MEAN it?" "Well... Yeah, but it sounds a lot worse when you put it that way." "It IS-" *Don't yell,* he told himself as he stopped himself from yelling. "That's why I was apologizing," she shoved in. "I'm used to it, and when Darla woke me- us, up like she did, I was in sort of a temper, and I guess looking for someone to whack." "But- Would you do that to your sister?" he asked, something Darla had asked him a few times. She snorted. "She'd do it to me first, Shar. Probably before we got out of bed. No, seriously, I'm sorry if it pi- annoyed you." Charlie closed his eyes, to block her out, and tried to think. *Okay, so, she apologized... And she didn't have to,* he realized. *It wasn't like Jane was making her. So, it's like... I'm still pissed off,* he realized. *Why?* Darla would've asked. *Because she made me late and got me in trouble for that.* "You- Why did you unplug the alarm clock?" She shrugged. "I don't really remember doing it, so... no excuse. I don't think you did it." "No, it was on your side." "Right." She frowned, then shrugged again. "I guess I wanted to sleep late." She sighed, and said, "At least we should get to do that Sunday, right? That's the day off." "Day off?" "In the contract? Oh, did you ever look over the one I gave you, or sign it or-" "No," Charlie admitted, feeling a little sick. "Okay, I'll just tell 'em that it'd be unfair to give stuff to me without giving it to you; that MIGHT work." "Maybe," Charlie said, but it might. Certainly, he'd gotten out of some other things around her, like the shopping. *But then I got INTO other th-* "Oh, hey, do we ever get to go swimming?" she asked as she started picking up silverware again. "Well, it's been too cold; I got here in January," he told her. "Oh, right. Did you get to go ice skating on it?" she grinned. He couldn't help smiling as he said, "No." "Ice skating on what?" Kenneth asked as he came in, carrying a ladder. "Valerie, I need the drill again." "I put it in the kitchen last night," she said as she stuck her chin towards the kitchen door. "Charger's on the island. Oh, and switch the battery packs." He nodded. "So, ice skating on what?" "Jane's pool?" Valerie asked, like it was obvious. "Oh NO!" Valerie exclaimed when she saw the little-girl dress Darryl was holding up. "Oh yes," Darryl said resignedly. "You WERE late to breakfast. AND you rubbed your eyes-" "What, looking like an idiot at the table in front of everybody isn't enough of a penalty?" "Nope," he confirmed. She sighed, almost a growl, then put her bags down by the door. "Okay, fine... I am NOT wearing those stupid shoes until they get some traction, though," he warned. "Or I'm not going up and down the stairs. I'm tired of falling." "I guess we can do that after you get dressed," Darryl said. He was getting a little tired of the screams himself, and the bruises not only looked bad but limited the clothes she could wear. "Do you have any brown wigs?" Tucker asked. "Why?" Darla asked back. "'C- BEcause," he corrected, "that's my actual hair color. Or was," he smirked as he remembered what his hair actually looked like at the moment. She sighed. "I think we might... we have more blondes, though." "Yeah, but blonde is boring." She gave him a sideways look, and he pointed out, "You're not blonde." "No," she admitted. "Still, let's concentrate on the blonde for now, since that's going to be most of your hair choices." Valerie wasn't too bad at makeup, Darryl noted, as far as motor skills went. She was a little too obvious in her color choices, and limited in the number of products she'd use - she would use one or two shades of eye shadow when Darryl would use four or five - and had only picked up a couple of tricks from Marie before Darryl had returned. But she was a quick learner. "Well," he said as he stood up and looked at her in the mirror, to get some distance and see her whole head at one time. "You look adorable." Valerie said sourly, "I look like a pig in a wedding dress," which made Darryl laugh. "It's not THAT bad," he choked out. Tucker looked in the mirror again, and it WAS that bad. The pink-and-white dress went too well with the light-gold hair; but the whole thing was just picture-day crap. Darla had called the hairstyle, or the parts of it, 'sausage curls' which all by itself was just WRONG; and they were big and heavy - far more so than the wigs he was getting used to wearing - and seemingly fragile, because he'd been told not to touch them. There was a ribbon (pink, of course) tying the whole mess to his head. The makeup had looked sort of bold on his face when he DIDN'T have this wig on; WITH it, it looked ghastly-overdone. *This is just sick.* "Darla... what is the point of making me look like this? IS there one, besides making me feel bad- humiliated?" he clarified. "I don't look GOOD, I don't look authentic, I can't put this stuff on myself, NO one would go out looking like this... It looks like child porn." "What?!" He pointed. "If I was one of those few girls that looked twelve when she was eighteen- there's a few of them, they make money off it. One of them would dress up like this for a porn shoot. And you know by now that if you try that with me, you'll die," he reminded her. It wasn't the threat that mildly startled Darryl, it was the casual way she mentioned it. She continued, "I mean, okay, I f- I messed up, twice; and got Charlene in trouble too, 'cause it had to've been me that unplugged the alarm clock in her room. But this isn't going to help remind me to wake up earlier - it wasn't like I made a CONSCIOUS decision to sleep late - and it won't help remind me not to rub my eyes." "Yes it will," Darryl contradicted. "Trus-" "Waitaminute!" she almost shrieked, and then to Darryl's amazement literally hit herself in the forehead several times. "This is forbidden in the contract!" "What? No it isn't!" Kenneth read aloud, "'Age-appropriate clothing, makeup, hairstyles, and related elements.'" He looked up at Valerie, who was dressed as a four year old. "And how old am I?" Valerie asked rhetorically. "Twelve," Darla sighed. "Wanna bet I can find a dozen twelve to fourteen year olds that think this is NOT age-appropriate for a twelve year old?" Darla sighed again, "No." Kenneth had a sudden image of Valerie at choir, or after choir like she'd been yesterday, asking those girls about her current outfit. He was half afraid she would do exactly that, while wearing it in front of them to show them what she was asking about. "No," he agreed. Valerie said, "I'll make you a deal; if I get to take all this off NOW, it won't count as voluntary violation of the contract." "Let me just run you past Jane, so-" "NO!" "So I can show _I_ did what _I_ was told," Darla finished over the interruption. "Then show her the contract, and remind HER." Valerie closed her eyes and either bit her lip or ground her teeth, Kenneth wasn't sure which. "No more than two minutes." *I knew I was going to regret signing that,* Jane thought. "Very well, you may go." Valerie left quickly. "Darla, if you could go with her... Do make her look as young as you can without setting her off." "She mentioned a money penalty," Darla reminded her. "And that she's supposed to get paid every Friday for chores." "But if I take all of it away-" "-She'll have a fit, and then who KNOWS what," Darla agreed. There was a thump and a shriek. Darla mentioned, "Oh, and she wanted to work on putting rubber on some of the shoe soles today." "You mentioned that at breakfast, dear," Jane smiled. "Wellll..." She shrugged helplessly. "That sounds like a good idea," Jane agreed. "And tell Charlene I wish to see her." "Will do, Momma-Jane," Darla smiled. Tucker explained, "Ten for being late, since I didn't actually cause any disruption to anyone else-" "I had to cook breakfast!" Darla protested. "Ugh." That raised it to, "Forty, then. But, I don't get double- punished." She looked blank. "So I don't get stopped from going dress shopping." "What about ruining your makeup?" "That's its own punishment! Looking stupid is its own punishment," he reiterated when it looked like she was going to argue that. "And you can't say it's unfeminine; I'll bet you fifty dollars I can get every- no, half of a sample of random adult women to admit they'd done it at least once." "Not since-" "Not since they were TWELVE, maybe, but then again I'M twelve," he pointed out; if they were going to declare him twelve, and make him live that, he was damned well going to make THEM live with it too. "It's not like I wore eyeliner every day to school last year, Darla," he reminded her. "I'd bet another ten that even YOU made a mistake like that at least once around someone else, and either Miz Thompson, Miz Philips, or Miss Marie would confirm it." "Diana wasn't here when I was twelve," Darla said. "So, bet? Either of the other two?" "No," she submitted, glaring at him. Darryl had gotten Valerie into a short skirt and white tights - to cover her leg bruises; he didn't want to look at them - and then Valerie had suggested a fuschia spaghetti-strapped top, white lace-top socks over the tights, and her white Keds. All of which she'd bought for herself, of course. With the makeup cleaned off and a long mostly-straight blonde wig put into a ponytail - she'd complained about the nearly-fuscia pink ribbon, but Darryl had won that argument - she looked much less 'adorable' but entirely realistic, and maybe even a bit younger. "I feel like I should be saying 'golly gee whiz' and the like," she said as they both looked at her in the three-panel mirror. "Gosh, really?" Darryl teased. She turned and glared at him directly, then - deliberately - giggled in a pitch he couldn't possibly manage. Tucker had his arms full of shoe boxes when he noticed that his crotch was slowly starting to burn and itch. *What the-* Then he remembered shaving it Wednesday, so he could wear that stupid bikini. "Uh, I'll be down in a minute," he told Darla as he dumped the load of boxes on the bed. "What are you doing?" "Don't ask!" he warned her as he went into the bathroom. Darryl didn't want to just leave her alone; he didn't think she'd disappear, like Jane worried about, but she might decide she wanted to do something else. And that 'something else' could be ANYTHING. The door flew open and Valerie stuck her reddened face out. "Do you know anything to do for razor burn, or itching where you shaved?" "Wh- Your legs are itching?" he asked, doubting that was it but unable to imagine- "Underarms?" "No..." She looked sick as she said, "Remember the bikini I got?" A small noise of dismay came out of Darryl's throat as he couldn't stop himself from imagining that area, what she must've done, and what it must be feeling like now. "Ah, um, try a shower. HOT water on the area, DON'T scratch, and try shaving it again before it gets worse. Let it SOAK in the hot water before you shave it, at least three minutes. Wait!" he called as she pulled back into the bathroom and almost shut the door. "I'll ask if there's something Momma-Jane knows about, okay?" "Uhhhhh?" Valerie complained. "Do you have to ask HER?" "Well, _I_ don't know anything else to try, and I don't- You REALLY don't want to be wandering around with- with that area itching. Not like THAT," he emphasized. "NO," Valerie firmly agreed. "Okay," she sighed. "Just... hot shower?" "And I'll come in-" "KNOCK before you come in," she demanded. "Okay! So shower!" He made whisking motions with her hands, and she shut her bathroom door. "That doesn't explain how she hid her genitals," Jane mused. "Mommmmm!" Darla complained, outraged. "Er, no, of course you didn't ask that," Jane said hurriedly, which made Diana choke. "Ah. Have her try some of the aloe vera gel... applied topically," she remembered. "Thank you," she said, still sounding aggrieved, and left. "Eeeee," Diana said as she shook herself. "That's one area I HATE shaving." "Yes, I know," Jane said sourly. Diana's insistence on using the expensive and odiferous Nair, to remove enough hair in that region to enable her to wear a swimsuit, was a sore point. So to speak. *What is it with aloe vera?* Tucker wondered. *This is like the new radium or something, everything's gotta have it.* "Okay, just leave it outside," he yelled over the water noise. "I'll get it in a minute." "Okay," Darla yelled back, muffled because she'd only opened the door a few inches. "Come downstairs with the shoeboxes when you're done!" "What do you mean you can't get the wig off?!" Mike gasped in horror. "I mean," Debbie said, "that I can't find the solvent for the glue!" "Get some scissors!" "NO! Do you know how much that wig cost?" "I don't CARE!" "Oh, Mike, no!" Kim whined. "It'll be okay, we'll just sneak you in." "You can't sneak me into school as a girl! They take attendance! They will ASK my NAME! And CHECK it!" "We fixed that up for you already," Jill smirked. "Besides, Tucker's doing it," Debbie smiled. "WHAT?!" She nodded and added, "And we already asked your parents if you could go to school as a girl, like a transfer student, and THEY said it was okay, just for a few days-" "AHhhhh shit!" Mike gasped as he spazzed out of REM sleep. "Shit shit shit shit shit..." His fingers, after a panicked rubbing of his face, didn't show any colored smears. *Check the eyes,* he thought, and rubbed harder this time. Much relieved, though much more slimy than he liked, Tucker was taking a few minutes to air-dry before getting dressed again. "Hey, I wonder if I could go swimming... since I DID shave and all. That only seems fair, actually." *Of course, what's fair to me, isn't to them...* "Oh, then it would wash the slime off, too. Maybe?" "Oh man," Mike breathed. "I woke up late..." "You look kind of weird," Book mentioned. "What?! Shut the fuck up," he snarled when he remembered he'd already scrubbed his face with soap twice this morning. "Oh, I started already," Darla said, which annoyed Tucker, because she was almost certainly doing it wrong. He came closer, and she was, of course. "Yeah, but you don't want straight strips like that," Tucker said. "You want curved." He grabbed an uncut inner tube and finger-drew a wavy line along the long axis. "Like this, and then you can get some more rounded pieces, which'll fit the bottom of the shoe better." "What?" "Do you have a grease pencil? Or chalk?" "N- Well, actually..." They did have a sort of 'mechanical pencil' except with chalk, that was used for marking sewing items, so Darryl went and got that from the sewing room. When he came back, Valerie had already started cutting a second tube into curved portions. "See?" she said as she held up a piece. "It-" "I got it," Darryl told her. It did make sense, though. "And then sort of a trapezoid for the toe tip," she added. "And those tile even better." "Those what?" "Now we let them sit about a day," Tucker said, looking at the pile of boxes. "Oh, did you want to do some of yours?" he asked. "Or Charlene's?" Due to an early decision to give priority to the highest of Tucker's heels, they had several sets of strips left over when they ran out of shoes. Although Tucker was thinking about making another run to the bike store, if he could remember where it was. "Don't you want to do as many of yours as possible?" Darla asked. "We need to go back to the bike shop to get more; I want ALL of mine done." "You didn't answer my question," Darla pointed out. "I think these'll do for now," Tucker said. "Great, then we can work on your gestures!" she enthused. *Well, fucked myself with that one,* Tucker realized, way too late. "No, wait," he remembered. "How do you get in and out of a car, gracefully, while wearing a skirt and so on?" "Miz Thompson?" Charlie asked as he knocked on the downstairs office door. "Come in," she called, and he opened the door. "Miz Thompson," he started, "I finished the book you assigned, but if I'm going to cook for lunch, for Valerie, then I can't do the book report right away." Jane looked down at her desk clock before she said, "And it is time to start cooking lunch. Very well, go see Marie. And DON'T lose that book, this time." "No ma'am," he grimaced. "Also, you are not to say anything to Valerie," she went on, "but this afternoon we are going to Edith White's for formal tea." *Oh nooooo-* "Don't look like that, Charlene; you've progressed quite a ways since your first tea with her," Jane said. "Hopefully Valerie will see that SOME people still value old-fashioned manners." "Are you sure this is a good idea?" burst out of him. "I mean, she..." "Edith called me, and I owe her a visit, and Marie and Kenneth and possibly Darla could use the rest and the vacation," Jane explained. Charlie thought HE could use a rest and a vacation, but he knew better than to say anything. *I hate me being stupid,* Tucker seethed. Naturally, Darla couldn't tell him how to do it, or show him how to do it with what he had on; he had to change, YET again, and again into the extremely feminine stuff, including another wig, another pair of heels - though he WASN'T wearing them until he got past the stairs - and a miniskirt under the full skirt he was going to start with. AND the new, stiff, and tightest corset. All so he could go practice something he didn't really want to learn how to do anyway. *You shoulda thought before you opened your fat mouth,* Mike told him. "Shut UP!" "I didn't say anything!" Darla complained, startling him; he'd forgotten she was there. Then she started bitching at him like Jane would've. *I HATE being stupid...* "Ow!" Valerie complained. "The hair keeps catching!" That was why Darryl had pinned the wig so securely to her head. "Sweep it forward over one shoulder with one of your hands," he instructed her. "I'm out of hands!" "Do it BEFORE you sit," Darla sighed. "He was, wasn't he?" Debbie agreed with a smile. "But he didn't look happy about it," Anna Evans, her current client, grinned up at her. "No, he wasn't," Debbie agreed. "To put it mildly. But since my boyfriend's out of town..." She shrugged at the older woman. "How did you get your BOYFRIEND to agree to, to model like that? And how did you get HIM? What was his name, Mike?" "Oh, well, I paid him a little," Debbie half-lied. She'd paid him too much... But then again, this was her second consult of the morning, during a working weekday, and during the first one that morning Laurene Portugal had bought a hundred and sixty-one dollars worth, including fifty-five of Debbie's in-stock. "Besides, he's friends with me, and agreed to do it as a really big favor for me." "And your boyfriend's out of town," Anna smirked. "Oh, no," Debbie protested, but kept it gentle and sort of teasing. "I'd never do that!" Mike did NOT appeal to her, not like Tuck did. "She's getting in and out of Darla's car," Kenneth reported to Jane when he came back inside. "Practicing getting in and out, rather." "Well, that's-" The phone startled him by ringing. "Hello, Thompson residence," Jane answered. "Yes? This is Jane Thompson. Yes, we did-" Kenneth was no good at figuring out what the other side was saying when he overheard a phone conversation. "Oh, I see. Well, this weekend would not be possible; Valerie is still under some restrictions, such that she's not allowed to have visitors," Jane said. *She's grounded?* Kenneth wondered. Then he wondered, *Wouldn't she want to be?* He hadn't really enjoyed being around girls at that age, and especially not when he'd been in a female role for whatever reason. *But she does seem to like them...* Jane said, "Let me give you a call in the next week or so, and perhaps we can set something up? I'm sure she'd like it," Jane said as she smiled, making Kenneth cringe a bit inside; though Jane had never been as sadistic as Sheila had been, she did enjoy twisting her students around and into situations that were (apparently) right at the edge of their capabilities. And he'd been twisted more than a few times by Jane... though nearly as often by Darla, and very often by the two of them seeming to work together in a sort of unholy concert. "Yes, definitely," Jane said, and "Goodbye," before she hung up. "That was the mother of one of the girls from choir. You met Doyle, didn't you?" "Yes." The name had stuck, which was perhaps why her parents had saddled her with it. "Nice enough, though a bit... bold." "And with some semblance of manners," Jane nodded. "Apparently Valerie told her we have a pool, and she wanted her mother to call and arrange a pool party over the weekend." "A pool party?" *With girls in swimsuits running- JUNIOR HIGH girls running around in swimsuits, being catty, sneering at the ones that weren't invited...* "If I thought I could control her, I might agree to having it," Jane mentioned, "but... certainly not yet, and I wonder if I ever should, with her." "That's a good question, and I don't have an answer," Kenneth remarked. "For- What is WRONG with this?!" Tucker complained. "Don't SCREAM," Darla snarled. "Just go up and-" She huffed in irritation. "I'll come pick something out for you." Tucker really wanted to scream now. "Most of her higher heels are drying- the glue on the soles is drying," Darla explained to Jane at the table. "Very well," Jane said, making sure she sounded disappointed. "I know you did your best," she said to Darla. Tucker's stomach was cranking, even though Charlene had supervised the lunch preparations; he'd been tarted up again, though at least he looked like he was in high school this time. Apparently Darla HAD had enough real-world experience to know the difference between a high school chick and a street whore; he looked like the FIRST and not the second. Though he'd had to fight Darla on several points. "Would you ask her to stop arguing with me, though?" Darla asked pathetically, like she was the victim of unwarranted aggression. Jane turned back to him and lectured, "Valerie, she knows better than you do wha-" "No she doesn't!" exploded out of him before he even thought about repressing it. "Rrrrrrr," Valerie growled as she bussed the table, along with Charlie. "I'm not gonna have ANY money left by tonight!" "Well, stop arguing with her," Charlie said. As her head came up to protest, and Charlie realized he'd said something that was technically true but would piss anyone off, he added hurriedly, "_I_ had to learn to stop arguing with her. She does that, you know; tries to say something to p- annoy you, and then jumps you when you show you're annoyed." "Rrrrrrrrrrrr!" Valerie growled as she grabbed a chair and strangled it. Charlie sighed. "And, you know, if she sees you doing THAT, she'll complain and jump you for THAT." "I hate her," he snarled. "And you came BACK here," Charlie reminded her. "SHUT-" came out of her mouth as she looked like she was about to fling herself over the table at him. Then she somehow strangled it before she even moved, and just glared for several seconds, before she finished with a much quieter, "-up." "Miz Thompson. Miz Philips, I hope you're doing well," Tucker said after he entered the parlor, figuring that sounded old-fashioned. "Thank you, Valerie. I'm feeling much better." "And now," Jane said, "we will review some of the lessons that seem to have slipped your mind while you were slipping your leash." Tucker locked his face down, as much as he could, but he couldn't say anything. "Just Jane, this time," Darryl explained to Kenneth. "Is she sure? Doesn't Valerie need a couple of extra keepers?" "She doesn't think so." Kenneth looked about as worried as Darryl felt. "Oh, MAN," Tucker complained when he saw what Darla had pulled out. "What IS this crap?!" She'd laid out what she wanted him to wear for tea, and she had gone ALL out. A floral dress with a long skirt, a long stiff half-slip - he wasn't sure if that was a petticoat or not, but he feared it was - a ghastly amount of white over-embellished over-tight underwear without a thread of cotton, a longer pair of HIS white gloves, the largest of the white hats he'd gotten at the vintage store, a pair of white heeled sandals he hadn't safed for traction because they were probably Charlene's, the vintage white purse, and some jewelry; all of it sat on the bed, waiting for him. "Unnnhhhhhh!!!" "Oh," Charlie sighed, when Jane mentioned a hat. She stopped explaining what he was going to wear to Edith White's house, and glared at him. "You certainly wouldn't want Valerie to look that much better dressed than you, would you?" He would. He couldn't say that. They both KNEW he couldn't say that. "No ma'am," he managed to finally force out. "Of course not," she said, smiling because she knew she'd beaten Charlie. "Oh, and you also need to pack what you need for your dance class tonight; we won't be coming back until after then." "We won't?" "No." Charlie just KNEW this was going to involve some kind of shopping that he wasn't going to like. "Of course," Tucker sighed. "What?" Darla questioned as she looked at his reflection in the mirror and stopped pinning momentarily. "Don't you want to look good for tea?" "Not especially, no." "Well, too bad; you need to," she said cheerfully, and went back to pinning the wig into his head. This wig was almost a hybrid; nearly straight and flat on top - which was going to be hidden under the hat, and unlike what he was used to, women's hats did not come off when indoors - and going to 2-inch curls about the level of his eyebrows. And blonde, of course. "I'm WHAT?" Valerie said, staring at Darryl. "Momma-Jane said you're taking tea at a friend of hers today, so you'll have to pack your dance clothing and take it with you," Darryl repeated. He didn't think this was entirely a good idea, springing it on her like this, but an order was an order. "Rrrrrrrrrrrrr-" she growled as she stared at the ground and clenched her hands into fists, "-rrrRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!" she spiraled up in pitch until her head bounced upwards and she finished with a raw scream, her fists shaking. "I think Darla just told her she won't be coming back for a while tonight," Jane commented to Diana. "I'd have thought she'd be happier about it." "Oh, she undoubtedly would be, if it wasn't me doing the driving. She won't find me as easy to befuddle or intimidate as she'd like." "Just don't go having a health crisis," Diana warned. "God only knows what she'd purchase with YOUR cards." Jane found herself chuckling a bit, over the horror of what could have happened with Art's 'health crisis' and how it had turned out. "Feel better?" Darla asked. "Yeah... but... get out," Tucker decided. "What?" "Get," he repeated, "OUT! SHIT I have to pack..." He ran for the closet, just remembering the stupid shoes he was wearing in time to catch himself before he accidentally dove through a mirror or two. "Oh," Diana said to Jane as she pulled back from the embrace. "You'll save yourself some time and energy if you don't argue with her about carrying that backpack of hers. Just see if you can get her to leave it in the car at Edith's. She MIGHT do that." When he saw the stairs looming in front of him, Tucker almost managed to throw himself down the stairs while attempting to prevent himself from falling down the stairs. Luckily, the wall-mounted railing had held when he'd frantically hand-braked against it. Tucker panted as he stared down the Path Of Evil. "You think you're gonna get me. You're wrong. I can chainsaw you into firewood, and replace you with a ladder." "Valerie," Jane started when she saw the backpack Valerie was toting. "If you want to take me to a store, so I can get a new pack that looks more feminine, tonight would be a good time," she said as she lugged the monstrosity towards the rear of Jane's car. "Otherwise..." That seemed like a very attractive option at the moment. Valerie continued, "Besides, since we're NOT going home after this tea, then I had to put my dance clothes in something. Could you open the trunk, please?" Jane thought about what Diana had said, checked her watch, and decided that she would devote her effort to getting Valerie to leave it in the car at Edith's, as Diana had suggested. It grated on her that she couldn't simply tell Valerie to put that pack where it belonged - which in Jane's opinion was in a dumpster - but she had to be realistic; she'd lost a great deal of her authority when Valerie had run away, and she hadn't had time to gain it back. Not like the girl seemed to obey authority in any case. *Which is why I realized I'd have to 'seduce' her into behaving,* she remembered. That was such an unusual way for Jane to have to think with one of her students, she had to keep reminding herself of it. "Miz Thompson?" Charlene said from behind Jane. She looked, and the girl had packed her own dance class things in a piece of the cabbage rose patterned tapestry-sided cheap luggage Jane kept for students to use. "Charlene?" Valerie called. "Checklist! Undergarments, spare hose, dress, shoes, gloves, hat, hair stuff, makeup?" "Got it," she nodded. "Very well, girls," Jane said as she moved out of Charlene's way and to the car. "Oh, and Valerie, I wish to see you get in and out of the car, please; I understand Darla taught you how to do that with grace this morning." The somewhat stricken look on Valerie's face made Jane feel better. Darryl said, "Maybe a leash?" "Choke chain," Kenneth nodded. "Possibly a straightjacket," Marie contributed. Charlie did NOT think that giving Valerie the keys to Jane's car was a bright idea; but nobody asked him. And he didn't really think she knew how to drive, no matter what she'd said to Evelyn, and driving a car was a lot harder than it seemed from television and watching adults do it. But giving her the keys was the only way Valerie would agree to leave her backpack in the car. She'd moved her makeup bag into her laptop case, which was starting to really bulge, and prompted Charlie to remove his as well, claiming the heat would cook the (expensive) makeup; Jane had, surprisingly, agreed. "Now, Valerie, remember to be on your best behavior here, please," Jane said, and Charlie wasn't sure if he'd heard Jane's voice right; it sounded as if she was actually PLEADING with Valerie. "Edith White is a very long-term and dear friend of mine, and she's VERY old-fashioned." *VERY old fashioned...* *Oh, great,* Tucker thought, looking again at the mansion they were walking up to. The driveway itself had seemed to be sneering at him, and the house was worse. Pillars going up two stories, no porch, certainly no porch furniture, and large imposing double doors - though without a portcullis, which is what Mike and Tuck had decided they'd have if they ever got to this level of nobility - that Jane was leading them towards. His colon threw an interrupt. *Oh, no, not NOW...* "Miz Thompson, it's good to see you again," Edith's imposingly tall and dark-skinned and long-serving (and possibly long-suffering, though she never showed it) maid said as she opened both doors and stood aside. "Good afternoon, Dorothy," Jane said as she entered Edith's house. "Mrs. White is in the rear parlor," Dorothy said as Charlene came in, followed by Valerie, who was looking- "Excuse me, I need a bathroom," she said, aiming between Jane and Dorothy. Her voice had been quiet, but with a hint of strain. "Oh... N-" Jane cut herself off, because it was obvious the girl meant 'now', and nearly 'right now'. "Dorothy, please show Valerie to the powder room; we'll take ourselves back." "Very good. Come this way, miss," she said to Valerie. In a small part of Tucker's mind, he wondered why anyone like 'Dorothy' would be hanging around being a servant and maid - even down to the uniform, though it was a FAR less interesting version than the one he'd wanted to buy Tuesday night - when she looked like she had a brain and some other assets. The larger part of Tucker's brain was unfortunately occupied with trying to prevent a catastrophe. And wishing the woman would walk faster. Or run. She stopped at a door and opened it and said, "Here you-" He cut the rest off as he shut the door, flicked all the wall switches on - activating one set of overhead lights, one set of makeup lights around the mirror, and at least one fan - then unloaded the bags with one hand while starting to yank on his clothing with the other, and then he could use both hands to extricate himself from his clothing. The gloves were an extra encumbrance he could've done without, too, but he managed to get everything off and himself seated before he exploded. "Amen. Ooooh-" "Do we wait for her?" Charlie asked Jane as they waited. "Well," Jane started, but turned as the maid - Charlie couldn't help thinking of the maid costume Valerie hadn't bought, though this was NOTHING like that one - came out of the hall. But before anyone could say anything, the doorbell rang, and the maid smiled and turned right back around, heading towards the door. Tucker's internal debate on whether he should risk getting up yet or wait a couple of minutes more for the potential next convulsion was shattered when someone opened the bathroom door. "GetOUT!" he shrieked before he could stop himself. Luckily, it didn't seem to be Jane at the door, but some woman he'd never seen, blonde and younger than Jane and dressed like a modern businesswoman. And she shut the door immediately. *'Old-fashioned' my ass,* he thought; the woman was dressed right out of a current magazine. *Which hurts.* The acid burn was a different feel than the ripped- bloody he'd had earlier in the week, but he wasn't enjoying the difference. *Still, if they're coming in... but I don't know if I'm done... No, this hurts too much.* He got up and cleaned himself, then started reinstalling his clothing, starting with the maxi pad; if he had another interrupt, it would probably be before he finished. *May it please the Dark Ones,* he hoped. As he finished re-dressing and started washing his hands, the door opened AGAIN. "Are you done y- Oh." He was about to have a screaming fit when he noticed the whining baby in the woman's hands. "P-problem?" Tucker stuttered. "I NEED to change him," the woman snarled, "a-" She flinched and bent and just barely managed to catch the infant before he escaped. "Damnit!" she hissed as she twitched and shook the infant once. To Tucker, it looked like she'd rather be eating it than changing it. "Um, if you give me the diaper bag, I can change him." She carefully handed the squirming baby to him, flung one of her shoulder bags - the floral pattern one - towards the vanity, hitting Tucker in the leg, and stomped off. *Okay, one incident of enraged child abuse averted,* Tucker thought. *I hope like hell I remember how to change a diaper...* "Come in, Jane," Edith said, and Jane ushered Charlene in. "Where's the other girl?" "She's powdering her nose," Jane hoped. She couldn't help looking towards the hall, but the only person visible was Edith's granddaughter- in-law, clearly on the edge of a temper tantrum, as she stalked back down the hallway. Apparently the bathroom was still in use. Dorothy waved as she came out of the hall herself a moment later. "She'll be right in, Mrs. White," the woman announced. "She said she needed to change Anthony, and she's having problems with her computer. Your girl is still powdering her nose," she said to Jane. "Oh, those computers," Edith started, and Jane repressed a sigh. Jane didn't like them either, but hearing Edith sometimes made her want to go learn more about them, based on the theory that anything Edith could complain about for half an hour - which she had - was deserving of consideration. Tucker had just barely remembered that baby boys enjoyed peeing in people's eyes, but 'barely' was soon enough this time, though the baby seemed philosophical about Tucker's successful block. "So, since I guess there's a deposit on you," Tucker said as he hoisted the baby up in his arms, then realized he was going to have to bend over to get the other bags, except he couldn't bend over because he was wearing a corset. "Fucking piece of- Just remember to stay the hell OUT of this state when you grow up," he told the kid, who paid attention, "or YOU may end up in one of these stupid things." He squatted and perched the kid on one leg, and used the other arm to gather straps and sort of get them on his shoulder. Standing up with the additional unbalanced weight was painful, and having the baby on the other side only partially compensated. Then it decompensated as the baby made another break for freedom, and Tucker ended up running his right shoulder and then his frontal body into the door, which hurt like a motherfucker when he discovered that some sadistic asshole had installed a towel rack on the door at near-nipple height. When he finally made it out of the bathroom, he was almost in tears, although the baby had responded to some verbal hinting of the 'if you don't stop fucking around I'm going to fillet you and flush you down the toilet in PIECES' sort, and mostly stopped squirming. The woman was down and across the hall in a small alcove, sitting at a little desk in front of a laptop, and looked and sounded like she was about to pick the laptop up and throw it. Or change into a were- form. "Ma'am?" Tucker tried, after he figured out which way he should run if she turned out to be a shapeshifter or zombie or something. "What?! Oh," she said as she turned around. Her eyes were not red, glowing, or glowing red, and she did not seem to have fangs or fur or horns. *Excellent.* "I changed him and cleaned him up," Tucker said. "Thank you," the woman said, sounding exhausted. "I just- It- Thanks," she sighed as she her tilted downwards and she rubbed her fingers into her hair. "Bad day?" Tucker's mouth asked. Melissa realized what she'd been doing - carping about the fifteen things that had ruined her day and her week and possibly the entire month, all of which had occurred in the last three hours - when the girl, who was dressed in a curiously old-fashioned white-background floral-print dress and white hat that her grandmother-in-law would approved of wholeheartedly, said, "I can take a look at the computer, if you'll take the baby?" "What do you know about computers?" Melissa asked in surprise. She wiggled her eyebrows and said in a non-girlish voice, "I'm a geek," which made Melissa chuckle a little bit. "Well, if you think you can do something with this piece-" She JUST managed to cut herself off. The girl asked, "Are you here for tea with Mrs. White?" "Yesss," Melissa sighed. It wasn't as if she didn't have six things to do somewhere else; she had to keep the old bitch happy, which meant showing up at these stupid little soirees of hers whenever she snapped her fingers at Melissa's husband (and Edith's grandson) Julian. They couldn't afford to alienate the delusional witch, though Julian had agreed that she ought to be institutionalized as a menace to feminism. And then he had the gall to schedule important client meetings instead of coming here. "If you can keep the rest of them off my a-" the girl cut herself off. "-Case, I can take a look at it. If it needs fixing, I get fifty an hour, two hours' pay in advance as a deposit minimum half an hour and DOUBLE if you don't have backups you can show me." Melissa had dealt with a lot of people doing business, and she'd learned to tell (most of) the bullshitters from the competent. This girl, for all that she didn't look like she'd even gotten out of junior high yet, sounded competent. In addition, the girl was carrying her own black rectangular bag (as well as a vintage-looking white purse and infant Anthony's diaper bag); a bag which looked suspiciously like the laptop bag her husband carried, in fact, except larger. Melissa's was designer brown leather, but Julian hadn't been willing to pay half the cost of the laptop for his own high-fashion carrier. "And I can't watch the baby at the same time," the girl said apologetically. "Deal," Melissa decided as she got up. "Can I get that bag..." The two of them managed to get the diaper bag off the girl's shoulder without dropping Anthony, who was squirming again and sounding entirely too happy about doing it. The girl ended up seated in front of Melissa's laptop, unpacking her own, as Melissa fought with the diaper bag and her own purse and Anthony. "Just leave the diaper bag here, since it's right across- Oh, damnit," the girl said as she stared at Melissa's laptop. "You piece of- don't give me that," she snarled as she popped a floppy disk out - which, Melissa realized belatedly, probably had something to do with that error message she'd seen last - and stabbed at the power button before turning back to her own laptop. Within seconds, she was unplugging Melissa's Dell from the wall and adding a small box which had four outlets and replugging everything including the answering machine which Melissa had unplugged earlier; she did the same trick on the phone jack next. "Yeah, pay in advance for this; you've got a virus. It'll be an hour or two." *Well, damn; back to the bank after this,* she grumbled as she dug in her purse for her wallet and extracted two hundred dollars out of the for-the-weekend errand money she'd waited twenty minutes at the drive- through ATM to get. "No backup?" the girl asked as she fanned the bills and glanced at them. Melissa confirmed, "No. I couldn't make one with it acting like that!" she added, though she hadn't made a backup since the first few days she'd had the laptop; the tape drive took HOURS, and she just hadn't remembered to set it up when she had time to let it run. "No backup," the girl said flatly, and folded the bills in half and stuffed them into her purse before turning back to the laptops. "Yeah, let's see how you like THIS, bitch," she said casually to the computers as she opened the laptop's CD-ROM tray and put a disk - with no label, just some marker scribbled on the top - into it before sliding the tray shut and holding the power button down until the laptop went dark again momentarily. Then it started up again, and shortly was doing something Melissa had never seen it do before. The girl was typing on her own, then stared at Melissa's, then began typing at it. She looked like some hacker in a movie - except for the extremely girly clothes - and she seemed to have forgotten Melissa's existence entirely. *Yeah, I think she knows what she's doing,* Melissa thought, and turned her attention to what she'd need to actually carry with her when in the presence of her husband's ferocious grandmother. "Ask Charlene if she could hold the baby," the girl said absently as Melissa started down the short hall towards the 'parlor', a word which almost made her ill at this point. Though, when Melissa looked back, the girl was staring and typing at the two computers like she'd never spoken. Tucker's claim of a virus infection had been simply to get the woman to pay him and go away, but it looked like she had one. *At least,* Tucker thought; sometimes you didn't just have one. Not by chance, he carried tools to remove virii, save them for later dissection and possible use, and replacement software to restore both his own Linux and most anything else he might run into; NetBSD 1.3, generic Windows 3.1(1), 95, and NT (various versions), as well as various flavors of MS-DOS, DR-DOS up to 6, Novell DOS, and Mac Systems 6 and 7. He also carried hardware and software to link his laptop to another computer, an entirely-too-large external SCSI CD writer, and a number of other bits and pieces, most of which were going to get used. *What a coincidence I have all this stuff with me,* he smirked to himself. It wasn't, of course; if you had any brains at all, you had to carry The Stuff with you all the time, or else people would ask you to do things - like unfuck a laptop - and you'd be half-crazy knowing that you HAD the tools to do it, and they were elsewhere. *Though, come to think of it, it's kind of odd that someone would ask when I actually have them, Murphy being the asshole he is.* The penalty, of course, was a laptop bag that weighed about fifty pounds, but he was sort of used to it. "Oh boy oh boy," he smiled, when the SCSI PCMCIA card seemed to be working in the woman's Dell. *That makes things not suck tremendously.* "She's what?" Jane asked, unable to believe what she'd just heard. "She's working on my laptop!" the younger woman whispered hurriedly towards Jane before making shushing motions with her hands. "Leave her alone, she knows what she's doing!" Charlie wasn't sure he'd heard right, but watching Jane's face try and decide whether to go pale or red suggested that yes, the much younger Mrs. White had actually asked Valerie to work on her laptop. "Jane, I thought you had another girl with you," Edith White announced as the maid poured her tea. "I do... I'll go see what's keeping her," Jane said as she placed her cup and saucer on the table and stood up. "If you'll excuse me for a moment." Then she left, leaving a horrified Charlie trapped in a room with the older Mrs. White, the younger Mrs. White, one mildly complaining baby, and a maid. "Well," the older Mrs. White accused him, "and what have you been doing with yourself since I saw you last?" *Jeez, how could ANYONE still have Stoned?* Tucker wondered. *I thought that had been out-evolved about a decade ago.* He grinned as he thought, *The trilobite of viruses...* A sharp, "Valerie!" startled him. It was, of course, Jane. "I've been PAID," he told her before she could start. "Paid to do WHAT?" she sneered. "She's got at least two, maybe more, virii on h-" "'Virii'?" Jane repeated. "Commonly used plural form of 'virus'," he recited, knowing she wouldn't get it. *Where on earth did she learn enough Latin to make that attempt at humor?* Jane wondered. Valerie continued, "And I need to make a backup of what she's got before I can do much else, or I risk losing her data." "How are you going to do that?" "Copy it to a CD recorder," Valerie said as she pointed at a box that was beige, unlike the other two that were black and had keyboards on them. "A what?" She repeated, "Copy it to a CD recorder." "You can't record onto a compact disk," Jane said, irritated that Valerie would assume she was so- She started to blurt, "Y-" but stopped herself, then grinned at Jane, showing her teeth, and drawled, "Would the lady care to make a wager upon the matter?" Of course, that phrase was a danger signal to Jane; no one said that when they were unsure. *Could she possibly-* One of the machines made a noise, and Valerie's attention went entirely away. "Yah, so," she said as she typed frantically for a few seconds before gargling in frustration, then mumbling something that had to be rude but that Jane hadn't quite caught, and the typing continued much more slowly. Jane had no idea what Valerie was doing, but it was apparent that Valerie did. The screen on the laptop on which she was typing did not show the semi-familiar tiny pictures and labels of Windows; it looked far more like the old mainframes she'd seen - rarely - while in college or later. And Valerie was typing and reading and typing again, barely pausing to think. Then Valerie threw herself to the side, startling Jane with the sudden movement, and dug in her black laptop bag for a small square envelope, that she opened and shook to dislodge a compact disk, which went into the tray that slid open on the beige box. Before the tray closed, she was typing again. Shortly thereafter the beige box started making noise and lights started flashing on the front. "That'll take about half an hour," Valerie announced as she sat back. "Oh, did you still want to bet?" "No," Jane said. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like you to be sociable for a while?" she asked sarcastically. "Alright," she said as she slid the chair back and stood up, but the tinge of pink around her neck suggested that Jane had, at last, managed to reach her. "Bring your purse and put your gloves back on," Jane reminded her, and she turned a bit pinker as she turned back to pick them up. "Now, do come along, and please be on your best feminine behavior, for once. And don't talk about computers." Tucker felt his tongue going into spasms; if he couldn't talk about computers, what WAS he going to talk about? *And what do I do if that woman asks me about them?* *** Distribution: No part of this work may be distributed as an original work by another person or group. Permission is given to redistribute this by electronic means, as long as the entirety of the work (from the BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE header to the END PGP SIGNATURE footer) is distributed, and credit is given to the original author, me. And no fee may be charged. Archiving is permitted provided no fee is charged for access. All rights reserved. + @>--,--'----- Ellen Hayes o===[-------- __ vicki .sig + -=[1990]=- \/ virus 12.2 + http://www.barkingduck.net/ehayes PGP key: EFC9 5D55 (1996) + -----BEGIN PGP SIGNATURE----- Version: 2.6.2 iQCVAwUBT2uiDnYDebnvyV1VAQEnGwQAnPip+8y4ptsnzU0cOOFTscjVOnyvBExf h8ucWuWyrHg7HDPwyYWJZbFCw5sTYhtWYSZy/GKq8U7Rr7URRcPhimR5f/ehHut4 4hEV/5DZeWrbbiILQ8B/em3ZG+X1Ra2lJNCkNnRwWrIb3B63juMBnNOvlHYx8oK+ DlJ/wpSe6p0= =MHRU -----END PGP SIGNATURE-----