SUBJECT: O Ye of Little Faith
Attachment:IntrepidTrio.jpeg
Kate,
Tsk. You Americans are so skeptical.
I didn’t mean to avoid your super personal questions, random stranger on the internet; I was genuinely flustered about my unexpected fostering. I have named them, BTW (I know what that means, I’m notthatold). They are Adam, Lucy, and Freddy, my own little Intrepid Trio. (I attached a pic—I know they look the same, but Adam is the best-looking one, of course, Lucy has a tint of red to her head, and Freddy is the chubby one. Yes, a little on the nose, I know.)
They will not stop eating. I’ve had to go into the nearest town twice to get them feed already. And I won’t bore you with the atrocities coming out of them because I am a proper English gentleman, and quite frankly, it’s appalling. Adam seems to be the boldest of the three. He pecks at my ankle, but I think he—uh, she actually, now that I think about it. Perhaps this wasn’t the best naming convention. Lucy stays tucked next to her brother, Freddy. Christ, I meansister. But I suspect they will warm up with time.
They are all lady chickens, hens. Apparently, Farmer John from next door (that is actually how he introduced himself—I’m never cheeky and mystified why you would even suggest that) came over to tell me that he would take them if I wanted. But he mentioned splitting them up and I just didn’t think that was a good idea. They’re siblings and should be kept together. Plus, I know for a fact that there is a fox that roams these parts.
Farmer John mentioned that they are Gingernut Ranger chickens (I could not have invented that breed if I tried) and they will produce many eggs. For now, I’m going to build them a little pen with a heat lamp and a dry bed. They can’t be outside just yet. I have had to do a lot more research than I want because these are the first creatures I’ve ever cared for. That’s how I’m telling you I have no children, Nosy Nelly.
Agata had a fit when I brought them home. It was almost worth the tiny little messes and the total lack of sleep just to see her face. She threatened to make chicken noodle soup if she finds them anywhere but my office. She’ll warm up to them yet …
For now, I will have to keep them safe from her clutches. At least until I can find them a good home. Currently, they’re peeping away in a shoe box in my closet. Agata, by the way, is the tiny, terrifying Polish woman ruining my life. Technically, her title is housekeeper and cook.
I am not married. Nor am I a duke. Sadly. (If I were, would you call me daddy?) The Vicarage is the name of my house. It’s my attempt at humor because the house is a former vicarage originally built in the 1850s. Alas, I have no plans to scam you out of your riches. I know writers must scrape together every penny. Oh wait, you said you had a “temporary” day job. How is that going? How goes the novel? What genre is it?
It would appear I have still avoided your questions aboutTerraFormative.
Yes. I was very close to the show. The fact of the matter is, I was (am?) so absurdly obsessed with it I don’t really like to talk about it with very many people. It was such a big part of my life for so long that I’ve had a bit of a hard time moving on from it. Another reason I connect so deeply to your words. Other people don’t really sympathize. I don’t understand my inability to move on. I’m a grown man and shouldn’t still think about “a kid’s show” so much.
Anyway. You really do know all my secrets now. You have a way of prying information out of me I don’t share. Reminds me of one of my best mates—you’d give her a run for her money.
Since we are doing this whole … sharing thing,ew, I’ve been reading through all your stories again. Yes, I know I have a problem. I have tried other authors, but they just don’t do it for me. Don’t let it go to your already large head.
I hope it doesn’t go against fanboy etiquette, but I was wondering about one of your stories. The short story “Mobius Strips and Shooting Stars,” isn’t like any of your others (as you know). It’s the only one still set during within the timeline of the show. Why didn’t you write more of when the characters were still in the youth space program? It felt like I’d stumbled upon the script for a missing episode—a better written (shh, don’t tell anyone I said that) and more intriguing episode.
Yours Truly,
RealCharlie
PS: I’m fine with you picturing me as the actor. However, you see me in your head (or in your fan art) is probably much better than reality anyway. You can call me the Real Charlie. ;p (that’s a winky tongue face—see, I’m hip with the youths).
* * *
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: Real Life is Lame
RC (for Real Charlie),
Anytime you say “youths,” immediately you’ve aged yourself. Sorry, Gramps.
I don’t want to alarm you, but it sounds like you may be getting attached to your feathered children. What if maybe, instead of trying to find them a home, you kept them for yourself? You know, so they don’t get separated. At least until they’re grown and can handle farm life. Just throwing that out there.
As far asTerraFormative(TF) goes, I get it. I’m the same way. Especially writing in that world. I feel like I can’t really tell anybody about how deep my feelings go without ridicule or judgment. Especially not at my work. I sometimes feel like I’m living two different identities or like I have this big secret. So I understand. In some ways, it’s a way to instantly bond with someone. Like you and me :) (I’m still laughing about you telling me the meaning of your emoticon. Dork.)
I’m still at the same job. Sadly. I know we don’t do details, but it’s just your run-of-the-mill corporate job where I dress professionally and answer calls. I can’t complain, my boss is lovely, and the pay is good. I wouldn’t say I’m passionate about it, but how many people are about their day jobs? I’m thankful for what I have.
The novel is actually going well. I’ve written more in these last few weeks than I have in years! It’s a space opera, of sorts. I already know you’re asking, “What the bloody hell is space opera? Chuff chuff, cheerio!” (Or whatever you say when you’re confounded.) Just google it, Gramps.
Hmm. I still feel like I have shared much more about myself than you have with me, but I suppose I could answer your deeply personal question about “Mobius Strips and Shooting Stars.”
