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Oh Now That's A Really Really Bad Idea. . .

Long Ago, in Improbable Central

calliaphone trots into town, barefoot and lightly-clad in board-shorts, bikini-top and zip-up rashvest. Her accordion is humming, and she's whistling along.

calliaphone's accordion sounds a little congested. It has a distinct rattle to accompany it's usual wheeze. Callia frowns, and sits down on a wall to investigate the problem.

calliaphone palms the little screwdriver she keeps behind her ear, and gently opens the accordion up. Hmm. He seems to be fairly well-filled with dried mud.

calliaphone tsks sympathetically. "You oughtta be more careful, Cordy" she says, carefully levering out chunks of lakeside gunk. "Mud-larking can be dangerous. It's not for amateurs."

Spandex is a cuss coming out of the hospital. "shiiiiiii- callia!" She bumps down next to callia and starts poking at a really good roadrash running up her forearm. "I should know better by now, huh."

calliaphone's accordion huffs indignantly. It wasn't his choice to go chasing frogs and snakes, let's not forget. Nor was it him that caught a stinking cold. He lets it pass, however.

calliaphone looks up from her Cordy-ministrations. "Dex, hallo! ooooh, whatchadone?"

Spandex lifts her elbow to offer good viewing of her owie. "Bailed. Monsters on my ass, s'like they know I have no defence today. What you doing?"

calliaphone pulls a face at the road-rash. "eurrk. gross." she kicks at her pack with a bare toe. "chocolate milk's in there, if you want. i'm cleaning out Cordy, he's all full of mud."

Spandex grins and pulls a chocomilk from callia's pack. "Mud? Cordy got tangled up with one of Lo's golems or what? How's your cold?"She looks around for Mer before chugging straight from the carton.

calliaphone shakes her head. "not Lo. just the lake. there's a dock up on the north side, and a whole lotta mud round abouts. and frogs, and snakes. and maybe even treasure!?"

Spandex wipes her chocomustache away with her wrist and sets the carton next to Cordy.

calliaphone adds, after an experimental sniff, "cold's better." she beams. It's nice to be well again.

Spandex pauses from picking gravel out of her arm. "Huh? Treasure? Like whatsorts?" With callia treasure could be. . . well. . . anything.

calliaphone shrugs, removing a bit of pondweed from one of the accordion's reeds. "you never know until you find it. oooh, lookit this!"she extracts two dead snails from Cordy and holds'em out.

Spandex smirks."Oooh you found vehicles. And what's that letter painted on the sides of their shells? An S?" She leans forward to peer at the snails, and holds out her hand. "Can I see?"

calliaphone blinks at Dex. She's not one to challenge on lettering, but . . . she knows a vehicle when she sees one. Still, she hands the little snails over.

Spandex shakes her head a little before taking the snails and rolling them along the ground. "Look, callia, escargot!" She ducks her head under her arms, mumbling sorry!

calliaphone looks blankly at Dex. "s cars what?" she stares at the little rolling shells. then back at Dex. "have you been drinking my benylin or something?"

Spandex looks at the chocomilk carton, "benylin? That french or something?"

calliaphone rolls her eyes, "duhh, it's a drink. like Buckfast, or Ribena." honestly, where's Spandex been all her life, in a convent or something?

calliaphone digs out a chocomilk for herself, and then a coupla cigarettes. she light'em both, cussing automatically at her lighter, then pausing to frown as it obediently produces a flame. "huhh."

calliaphone offers the spare ciggie to Dex, and pockets the lighter, after giving it a suspicious look.

Spandex laughs before jamming the cig into her lips. "Or like Champagne. Which is totally what fixed your cold ya'know." She wiggles her toes. "I gottan idea for us two, Callia. Need your help."

calliaphone raises an eyebrow. she happens to know for a fact it was plastic dinosaurs that drove out the illness. but her attention is grabbed by the Idea idea. "ohh? whassat?"

Spandex leans back on the wall and closes her eyes, trying her best to keep straight-faced. "Hunh? What's what?" she asks, sneak-peeking at Callia with one eye.

Spandex breaks into a face-splitting grin. "SKATEBOARDS! You'n me! A Gang! A crew! A posse of two! Ridin' through malls and towns. Wreaking havoc. Sick jumps." She leans forward. "I'm stoked."

calliaphone's grin also lights up. "ohhh yeaaahhh." then she frowns. "but wait, you got a skateboard?"

calliaphone is excited. wheels! she needs more wheels in her life!

Spandex taps her head with her forefinger, "Not yet. But I gotta Plan. The decks: Tyr. I'll trade'im or sommat. The trucks'n wheels. . ." She points her finger at you-know-who and lifts her eyebrows.

calliaphone follows Spandex's pointy-hand. "who, me? but i haven't got any. . ." but she's already looking thoughtful.

Spandex leans back and smiles again, "You know anyone that knows how to find stuff and weld'nshit?" She doesn't really know what's required but has faith in callia's talents.

calliaphone considers this. "well, the welding bit, i can do meself. and as for finding stuff . . . there's always parts to be scavenged in Cyber City. or we could ask G, if he's got any leftovers."

calliaphone puts her accordion back together, as she finishes speaking. He humms appreciatively, sounding rather better than before."i'm pretty sure we can work something out."

Spandex nods. "I'm absolutely sure. I'll get the decks sorted. Get them to you. I'm gonna do some art on'em. Custom rides, ours. Then we build. Then! We riiiiide." She gets up. "Starving. B's?"

calliaphone shakes her head. "not yet, for me. i gotta see a thing about a whatsit. catch you later though." she gives Dex a quick smooch, shoulders her pack, and scarpers.

Spandex grins at the smooch, and the Plan and at visions of terrorizing mallcops, before likewise scarpering.

A long time Later, in the Bingo Hall Coach House

calliaphone parks her cart next to the traction engine, and hops down. she takes a moment to lay a small grimy hand on the rust-pocked iron, and whispers a greeting to the silent machine.

calliaphone rests her cheek on the boiler. it's cold for now. but she smiles. "we'll have you fired up again soon, you mark my words. i got plans for you." she nods solemnly, and points at the caravan.

calliaphone's caravan is not the sorry thing that it was. It positively gleams with health, in fact. Glossy green'ncream paintwork, and not a dent or a speck of dirt in sight. All it wants is wheels.

calliaphone nods again. She says to the engine, "see? just a bit more work on the van, and then, my lovely, it'll be your turn." she eyes the dilapidated beast with undisguised glee.

calliaphone's engine makes no reply. But callia seems unperturbed. she lights a cigarette, cracks open a new carton of chocomilk, and turns her mind to a smaller (but no-less-important) project. skateboards.

calliaphone fetches the boards and bits and pieces that Dex left out in the stableyard. and hauls them up the loft-ladder, into her workshop. after a few minutes. . .

calliaphone can be heard, whistling cheerfully over the sound D.I.Y.

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