HCA: Hermit Crab Association

Heya all. I've written a short story about the (fake) beginnings of the Tipsy Leper if people are interested. Normally I'd email to help keep rights (Some publishers consider posting stories or poetry or what have you to message boards as "publishing" and refuse to publish those works) but I have a feeling this is a rather niche market and is unlikely to peak anyone else's interest. Anyways, if people are interested I can post it here in installments (rather long to post in one go at 5 pages) or if there's limited interest, I can email it to the few who may want to see it. hehe Anyhoo, just lemme know.

Woo hoo!!! more to read!!! Count me in

....I thought it was just a zombie room that slouched in here and got stuck....

Absolutely KC, would love to hear how the Leper came about. I'll read it wherever it is!

Ya'll are sweet. Okay, I'll Post the first part then. After that, you can beg me to stop or I'll continue. (Oh, and constructive criticism is absolutely appreciated. I can't work on problems if I don't know about them)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“I’ll take it!” K.C. turned to the real estate agent with a smile.The agent’s eyes widened for a moment, and before she could stop herself she said, “Really? This place?” But she quickly recovered. “Fantastic! I’m sure it will suit your needs just perfectly. Now, just let me go turn in the paper work and we’ll make an offer…” She continued on about the process, but KC barely heard her. She surveyed the sight of the decrepit building. Sure, the brown brick walls were crumbling a bit, and yes, the windows were boarded up. She was pretty sure she’d spotted some rats nests here and there and in one corner, there were signs that it may have been where a homeless person might have stayed for a while, but all that didn’t matter. Neither did the stories of the strange glows, and screams. No, she was sure it would be just fine. This is where her bar was going to be. Several months earlier, KC had told her family and friends about her plans. They stared at her with a dumbfounded expression. “A bar?” “Yep!” “But you don’t even drink!” That had nearly always been the first thing they said. She couldn’t understand it. Then came the next inevitable comment of, “You’ve never even been in a bar! How on earth are you planning on running one?” They didn’t understand. How could they? After all, they hadn’t had the dream. “Build it and they shall arrive in an orderly fashion.” That’s what the weird guy in the dream had said. Of course she had questioned it. “Build what, you nutcase!” He had tried to stay cryptic at first. “Wait for the signs and you shall know. Go to—” “Forget all that! Just tell me, or let me get some rest, eh?” “All shall be made clear. You shall find –” “No, we’ve been through this. I’m not putting up with any of that ridiculous obscure predictions garbage. You might as well go find someone else if you insist on all that. In my experience, it’s not worth it.” “Well, it is traditional.” “I don’t care! Look, if it makes you feel any better you can tell your other weirdo dream buddies that you really put me through the ringer. I mean, you can tell them you sent me to Indiana, or heck, all the way to India for all I care! But I’m really not going to put up with it.” The dream guy sighed and finally relented. “Okay, okay. Look, you gotta open a bar. Blah blah blah destiny blah blah it’ll be a giant success. Don’t know why, but it will.” “A bar? Are you nuts?” “You’re asking if I’m crazy? I’m not the one who’s been arguing with a dream!” “Okay, fair point. What happens if I don’t do it?” “I’m not allowed to leave you alone. It may be awhile before you get any sleep. We found that it’s easier to break the sleep deprived.” KC considered this for a moment and said, “And if I do?” “Then they shall arrive in an orderly fashion. That’s all I know.” “Fine. Fine. I’ll open a stinkin’ bar. Satisfied?” “Would it really have killed you do it the usual way?” He asked with a whine in his tone. “Quite possibly. Now get out of my dream and let me get some sleep.” KC’s friends and family didn’t know, so she understood their skepticism. She would have just ignored all this stupid prophecy stuff, but she felt quite certain that the threat of interrupting her sleep was a true one, and sleep is never something to gamble with. So, she checked her finances, and called a realtor. After trying very hard not to snicker at her funds, they showed her several dilapidated buildings, many of which were not up to code. That didn’t matter to KC. The dream had dictated that she open a bar, but it did not specify that it must be a safe bar.

quote:I have a feeling this is a rather niche market Really? I would think the Leper speaks to a wide variety of lost souls people. Do tell KC; we'd love to hear how it started. When I joined LHC I think it was already up and running.

Hehe, I think we must have posted at the same time or close to it, Nicole.

Interesting beginning, KC. I'm looking forward to seeing how it goes. (Of course, we already know how it ends up, at least so far. LOL)

Wow KC you've got one heck of a beginning there girl, I like it!! More, more!

Thank ya. Here's the second part.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After a few weeks, she began to get enthusiastic about the idea. It could be cool. She’d seen Cheers. A place where everyone knew her name might be at times disconcerting, but then again it might be nice and hardly creepy at all. She began to research places on her own and try to learn the ropes. The first thing she learned was that this may be a very expensive project. But then she found the loopholes. Suppliers who were a little low in the ethics, but high on supply and low prices, and inspectors who were renowned among certain circles for being easy to buy off. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all.KC started to draw out designs of what she wanted the interior to look like. A pool table might be nice, and definitely a stage. It would be nice if she could get live musical performances, or comics even, but may cost more than she wanted to spend. She also wanted a basement. She wasn’t sure why, other than for easy storage, but it seemed like a good idea. Maybe she could keep wine barrels down there or something, like an old cellar. Either way she was starting to get clear images of what it would be like. One time, in mid daydream, she became suspicious. It suddenly struck her as something that one might see in a movie. “If this is you, weird dream guy, then just stop it! I’m perfectly capable of coming up with ideas of my own!” The other customers in the restaurant looked at her funny, but she didn’t care. She had enough trouble with fake people that she could hardly worry about the real ones.Finally, one day she got a call from Cheepo Market Realty. “We think we have something for you.”KC knew it was the right place for her the first time she laid eyes on the deteriorating brickwork surrounding the broken windows and water-warped door. It had not only a basement, but also a kitchen and room right behind the bar. Very convenient! Now all she really needed was a name. “The Tipsy Leper. Tipsy Leper...Tipsy Leper…” As the whisper faded away, KC shouted into the silence, “Shut up already! We had a deal, remember!” She was glaring at the air, so didn’t notice the somewhat frightened look of the realtor behind her.The days flew by, and after a couple more weeks, KC searched for the best bargains for supplies and items for the bar. The owner of the property snapped up her offer, though it was well below asking price. As she examined a cactus, she smiled broadly. It was all going so well! She had found a jukebox that looked a little beat up, but played well. She also found a very good karaoke set, extra cots to tuck away in case of emergencies, and plenty of supplies for the kitchen. Eventually she had everything ready, but realized that while she could tend bar, it would be best to hire a full time cook. So, she put a want ad, free of cost, in the local penny saver. Some very unusual people replied to her ad.“So, you’re a vegetarian.” KC looked up from the application at the woman across from her. “Well, yes, I’m that as well, but I mostly identify as a fruitarian.” Her oddly colored hair didn’t seem to have any order to it at all.“Really? I didn’t know those actually existed.”“Oh yes. Sadly, we’re in the minority, but I’d love a chance to bring it to mainstream attention. That’s why I’ve become a chef, specializing in the fruitarian diet.”“Lot of call for that, is there?”“Not yet, but someday, hopefully. It really is the healthiest diet, you know. More than that, it will cure all the problems of this world.”“Let’s just make sure I’ve got the definition of fruitarian correct, shall we? You believe cooking food is wrong.”“Yes.”“And you eat nothing but fruit, though that does cover nuts and the like?”“Oh absolutely. I’m going to live to well over a hundred, too. Lots and lots of good things in fruit.” Her somewhat crazed eyes became larger and more intent.“Right, well, since this is a bar—”“I’d be working in a bar?”“Yes. It’s a family establishment, but yes.”“Oh, well, I didn’t realize that. I’m sorry. I’m going to have to decline the position.”The other interviews weren’t quite so strange. One or two didn’t seem to be terribly motivated, or didn’t know the ingredients of a salad, or could only cook using the microwave, but they were relatively normal. Then KC met Igore.

Liking this, KC...Keep 'em coming!

Last Part~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Igor.”“That’s Igore. With an ‘E’.”“Oh, I thought that was a typo, perhaps.”“No, no, but don’t worry about it. People make that mistake all the time.” There was a strange blue tint to the man’s skin.“I can imagine. So have you any cooking experience?”“Oh, yes. My first job was as a lab assistant, but after an accident with some electricity, I decided to go into another industry. First as a butcher, then later as a chef.”“Ah.” She paused for a moment as she became transfixed with Igore’s scars. “Sorry, I must have zoned out for a second there. What was I saying? Right. I was wondering if you have any particular specialties?”“Well, I do a pretty good kidney pie. My liver and onions recipe is quite tasty as well. And of course there’s minced meat.”“Oh, like pies and cookies?”“Hmm, I suppose you could put it in desserts. Never really considered that…” He looked thoughtful, and KC thought it best to barrel through a little more quickly.“This job would have you working in a bar. It’s a family friendly establishment, but some alcohol is served. Is that a problem?”“I shouldn’t think so. I do not drink, but have no moral reasons not to work in a bar.”KC took a measured look at him. Skin tone and unsettled feeling that he seemed to exude aside, Igore seemed most competent for the job. He may also be quite good for security, she thought. Seems unlikely that anyone would attack him.“Well, Mr. Igore, I still have a couple more interviews, but I think I can say fairly confidently, congratulations.” She smiled warmly.“Thank you very much. May I ask what is the pay?”“At this point I can offer you room and board, along with a percentage of the tip jar.”“I would appreciate the room, but the tips will not be necessary. If you will occasionally allow me to test new recipes, I’ll consider that payment enough.”“Mr. Igore, I believe we have a deal. I’ll have the contract sent along shortly.”Two weeks after that, on Igore’s recommendation, she had a supplier. He was cheap and had lots of interesting items available.“What are these?” KC held up a jar of something small, hard and green.“Those? Those are prime green cashews. Rare delicacy those are.” The supplier replied in a voice that sounded like it was made from chewing gravel for twenty years.“Green cashews, huh? Never heard of them. How much you want?”“Hmm. You buy ‘em by the crate, and take ‘em with the boiled eel and box of ruined VHS tapes, and I’ll give you a good discount.”They haggled over the price of those and several other items, and before she knew it, KC was fully stocked. Soon, opening day arrived. One fateful evening, she set out her sign, and stood behind the bar, waiting. Before long, she heard the bell over the door jingle, took a deep breath, smiled and said, “Welcome to The Tipsy Leper.”

Great story KC! Thank you for clarifying some of those vague points for me, particularly in regards to Igor(e).

That's awesome KC! Very well written, I enjoyed that.

The funny thing is, it's just about plausible enough to be true. *chuckles*