A little early but…
Decided to go with something a little different. This will likely be a letter Jim will write to his mother in part of a future chapter of Our So-Called Life. So this is a flashy snippet, if you will.
Dear Mama
I hope this correspondence finds you well.
I apologize for the tardiness of my reply. And for the rather formal tone of this message. I find that I am experiencing, perhaps, unwilling influence by the company I have been keeping of late.
In all seriousness and fairness, I am getting along well with Spock and his family here on Vulcan. All Vulcans have treated me fairly and kindly although impersonally in my interactions with them. I believe they find me…fascinating…in their own way. A bit of a curiosity.
It’s hot here. I mean really hot. But I am okay as long as I have my breathing shots and stuff like that. And my personal bedroom is kept cool to my liking. The food is rather bland for the most part, though Spock’s mother has made an occasional Earth treat for the two of us.
As for the school here, I am adapting well, and can keep up with my classmates admirably. That’s a direct quote from a certain someone. My days are filled with study and learning Vulcan. Apparently that is required of me.
My nights are spent playing chess, reading, and playing Earth board games with my hosts. I beat them every time. I swear I am not bragging.
It’s not as terrible as I thought it would be. But I am rather bored much of the time. They just don’t like to do much here. I once asked Spock if he’d like to go out and play catch with me. He looked at me quite perplexed and said, “Catch what?”
I have not tried since.
I will write more often. But for now, Spock’s mother is setting up Scrabble. She made Vulcan cookies. I have not yet found out if they are a bland form of cookies Vulcans enjoy or cookies shaped like Vulcans. Are you smiling? I will let you know.
Your son, Jim
It was unlike Spock to be late, though he had tried everything he could not to be, but it hadn’t been able to be helped, and so, consequently, as he rushed home, his anxiety level had, as his husband would say, skyrocketed.
San Francisco had decided to pour rain on his journey home, which only soured Spock’s mood as he made his way, on foot, to the apartment building where the apartment he shared with Jim could be found.
He used hand recognition to access the front doors of the building and then scurried over to the stairs rather than the lift.
When he reached the floor where the apartment was, the fifth, it was as he feared. Jim was stepping out the door, luggage bag clutched in his hands. He turned to look at Spock as Spock approached.
“Thought you weren’t going to make it,” Jim admitted.
“I almost didn’t. One moment.” Spock brushed past Jim and into their apartment, rushing into the bedroom to seize his already packed bag. He returned to Jim, waiting in the hallway.
“You could have caught the next shuttle,” Jim told him. “I left a note. It’s just I had to—”
“Leave, yes. I know. I prefer we travel together.” Spock pursed his lips, trying to keep a most illogical emotional outburst from happening.
“You okay?”
“Affirmative. I just…I prefer we spent all our time together.”
Jim smiled and touched his fingers to Spock’s. “Me too, honey. You ready?”
Feeling illogically relieved Jim had not departed without him, Spock fell into step beside him. Their shoulders touched as they walked in sync.
“Hi. My name’s Jim,” the blond haired Terran boy with the startling blue eyes spoke first. His gaze skittered across the room, anywhere but landing on Spock. The Terran boy was dressed in little more than rags and was so thin Spock could see bones sticking out in places.
“Spock.”
The boy, Jim, nodded. His tongue darted out to trace his lips. “You’re Vulcan?”
“Obviously.” He immediately regretted his harsh tone when he saw the boy flinch. “It is the ears. They give me away,” he said, attempting to inject humor into his tone.
The gaze flittered again and then landed on Spock at last, eyes widening.
“Come. My home is not far. You can have a warm bath, put on clean clothes, and have something to eat.”
For a long time, Jim just stared. Then there was just the barest lip tremble. “Yeah?”
“Yes, Jim. Come. You are safe.”Spock barely knew this boy, but he knew he would make sure no one would hurt him again.
During my walk at lunch Friday I took pictures of one of the neighbor’s roses and thought I would share.
I finished The Fling as you all know. It had been a while since I finished one of my ongoing WIPs so it felt good to get it done.
And now the next check in for the T’hy’la Bang if the 18th of this month. If I want art claims I must be 75% done (or if it’s going to be 15,000 words at least 12,000 done). So that’s what I intend to work on for the next little while in April. I’ll keep you posted on how it goes.
Tomorrow we are due a little rain, and I think Monday as well.
I am firmly entrenched at home with work and not going out even to the grocery store. At least for several days. I’m trying to stay in as much as I can. Originally on the 11th, we were supposed to go to a child’s 5th birthday party but that had to be canceled, obviously.
That’s the latest here. Stay in and stay well.
“What’s wrong with your lip?”
Jim looked up from perusing the report on his PADD to scowl at Bones over the mess table. His best friend held a sandwich in his hand. “What?”
Bones pointed at Jim’s face. “That feather duster thing above your mouth.”
Jim rolled his eyes. “It’s a moustache, Bones.”
Bones smirked. “Is it? I thought maybe it was chocolate milk.”
“Hardy har har.”
“Why are you growing one of those anyway?”
He shrugged and went back to his report. “Makes me look distinguished.”
“Who told you that?” Bones snorted and jabbed at Jim’s leg with his boot. “What does Spock think?”
“Does it matter?”
“Ehh, not normally. But I gotta wonder if he’s all ‘what you do with your own lip is your business’ or if he’s ‘egads, Captain, how am I supposed to kiss you with all that scratchy hair’?”
“Spock has never said egads in his life.”
“You know what I mean.”
Jim put down his PADD and picked up his bean and cheese burrito. “Actually, Bones, I’m pretty sure no one knows what you mean. Not even you.” He took a bite.
Bones stared at him. “You got a little cheese…” He gestured.
“Oh leave me alone.” Jim wiped his mouth, got up and picked up his plate with the burrito.
“Where are you going?”
“To eat in my quarters in peace.”
Bones watched him walk away and then fingered his own jaw and face. “Hmm. Wonder what I’d look like with a beard and moustache.”
Today I walked at lunch, since this is day one of a full day of work at home. It was a beautiful April day. Absolutely nothing to indicate what’s really going on in the world.
“And then I…”
“Help! Help!” Chekov cried, rushing into the medbay.
Jim turned around from talking to Bones to stare at Chekov in shock. “Ensign, what—?”
“He iz crazy, Keptin. Help me.”
“Who? What the hell?”
“Mister Spock! He Is going to kill me.”
Jim laughed. “Spock is not going to kill you.”
Chekov grabbed for Bones. “Doktor. He is running after me, hide me.”
“Now see here, Chekov, what is this all about?” Bones asked reasonably.
“There is no time to explain!”
“Ensign, explain yourself now. That’s an order.”
Chekov straightened and looked over his shoulder at the door. “It was a little prank, sir.”
Jim frowned. “A prank?”
“Ya. April Fools. I tell to the Kommander that you and the Doktor are inwolved in an affair as a little joke.”
“What?” Bones demanded. “Me and him? I may throw up.”
“Bones,” Jim said sharply. “But that’s just what I was about to tell you before Chekov ran in here. I’m pretty sure Spock’s going into his time and is entirely irrational.”
“What?”
Chekov’s eyes were huge. “Yes! This is vhat I am telling you. He iz trying to kill—”
The medbay doors exploded open and Spock stormed in, looking darkly menacing. He took a step toward Chekov, who squealed and dashed behind Jim and Bones.
Jim held out his hands. “Now, Spock, it was…”
But Spock charged toward them, not to Chekov, but to Bones. And his hands were outstretched toward McCoy’s neck.
“Spock! No!” Jim exclaimed, trying to grab onto his husband and first officer. But Spock swatted him as though he was just a fly, sending him flying into the bulkhead. For a moment, Jim was dazed, and he heard Chekov squealing in terror.
“Stop it, Spock! You’re not in your right mind,” Bones tried, just as Jim saw Spock’s hands wrap around Bones’ throat.
“No! Kommander! Stop. You vill kill him!”
“You think to steal him from me,” Spock roared.
“Spock!” Jim scrambled to his feet and rushed at Spock. “Stop it.”
Just then Bones fell limp to the ground. His mouth hung open and his eyes bulged wide. Jim knelt down beside him.
“Bones! Bones! Damn it. Spock, you’ve killed him.”
“Oh no!” Chekov cried. “It was…it was a joke. Just a little joke.”
Spock suddenly straightened and stared blankly at Chekov. “Very little, Ensign.”
Chekov blinked. “What?”
Jim burst out laughing. “April Fool’s, Pavel.”
“What?”
Bones pulled his tongue back into his mouth and sat up, cackling. “That was too good! Lord, you shoulda seen your face, Chekov.”
“A joke?” Chekov shook his head. “You vere in on it, Mister Spock?”
“Obviously. And frankly with what you tried to pull, you deserved it,” Spock said, simply. He reached down and hauled Jim to his feet.
“Hey! What about me? I’m the one you strangled,” Bones grumbled, getting to his feet himself.
“Are you all right?”
“Well, I…”
“Captain.”
Bones scowled.
Jim grinned. “Well you did kind of toss me into the wall pretty hard. Lost my breath for a second.”
“I will make sure you get it back later,” Spock murmured.
Jim stepped closer.
“Okay, that’s it, out of my medbay. It’s April Fools, not Valentine’s Day. Everybody out.”
“Bridge. Mr. Spock?”
“Indeed, Captain.”
“A joke,” Chekov muttered. “I thought he killed the doctor and it vas a joke.”
I sure would like to think and believe in this positive message.
Tomorrow, when I go into the office, it may well be the last time in quite a few weeks. My job has lost patience with waiting for laptops that seem as scarce as toilet paper and hand sanitizer and has decided that we must all bring our desktops home and work from home. So with a bit of stuff I must do in the office to make the transition smoother, I will be also disconnecting my equipment and bringing it home, all the while crossing my fingers that it all works like it’s supposed to once I get it all hooked up at home.
M’s working from home has been extended to May 31st. I have no idea how long it will be for me.
I have mixed feelings. I really don’t like the work at home thing. But on the other hand I won’t have to drive every day, which I hate, and can get up later and get home sooner. It’s better for my asthma to stay home. Don’t have to worry about what I look like etc.
But yeah. Not happy. But it is what it is. And I have a job for now so can’t complain.
I got all the Monday flashes done and scheduled for April.
I updated Our So-Called Life. Have not written a single word on the Bang story since I turned in my rough draft to prove I had written 6,000 words a week ago. And all I can say is meh. So we will see. Later this week I hope to update The Carrier if I can kick myself into doing it.
And so today is the last day of March, which turned out to be an absolutely miserable month. I once had such high hopes for it.
Spirk (with a small dose of Pinto) 