[Introduction: Melanie Stormm continues her humorous series of posts about the misdirected emails she’s been getting. Stormm is a multiracial writer who writes fiction, poetry, and audio theatre. Her novella, Last Poet of Wyrld’s End is available through Candlemark & Gleam. She is currently the editor at the SPECk, a monthly publication on speculative poetry by the SFPA. Find her in her virtual home at coldwildeyes.com (temporarily closed for update). Wipe your feet before entering.]

MARTIN K. HOOTEY’S CONFLICT DROPS

Hello All! Melanie here.

When last we left our heroes, Writer X had fallen in with a group of “literary” writers who turned out to be less than friendly. Fortunately for her, Tryxy, #bestkitten, and her boyfriend Tod Boadkins value her company regardless of how much deer urine she’s covered herself in.

Meanwhile, in Cradensburg, sasquatch season has come early with some distressing effects on Writer X’s stories.

Without further ado…

---

Subject: BULL MOOSE!!!!!!

Dear Gladys,

I’m writing to let you know that a nefarious ne’er-do-well has entered our town and is scamming writers of their hard earned money and peace of mind!!!!!! Also: I need to you to do me a few favors without letting my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, know that I asked you to do them. In fact, it’s better this stays hush hush between you and me.

First of all, do you remember that time you made that blowgun disguised as an umbrella??? Well, you’re going to need it!!!

Anyhoo, I’m sure you’re dying to know how my writing is going.

Well, to be truthful, I’ve been very stressed. There’s the sasquatches. For some reason they all seem to love my house and none of my natural sasquatch repellents are working—I even tried apple cider vinegar and all I got was a house that smells like a salad!!!!! Then there’s my neighbors pestering me about the Haunted Hills of Cradensburg contest. Just because I won the contest for the neighborhood last year by accidentally setting loose an evil warlock who had been sawed in half on a pack of kids from the local 4H club, it doesn’t mean they can expect me to do this every year!!!! Undead warlocks don’t grow on trees Galdsy!!!! They’re not anvils!!!!!

Mostly it’s the sasquatches though.

As you know, I’ve been keeping up a pretty regular writing regimen. You don’t get to be the next big epic fantasy writer of all time by doing nothing. I already tried. However, with all the stress I’ve been under, something strange started happening to my stories.

It all started when I decided I wanted to write a murder mystery that takes place in a village that a young sorceress has come to for the purpose of visiting her great aunt who is responsible for the sorceress’s inheritance. You know just the kind of story: it will RIPPLE with atmosphere. First, there’s the village with the cozy and quiet cottages with little streams of sweet smoke puffing merrily into the Scottish evening. There’s the grey rain and the bit of chill in the air and down at the tavern, Old Meggers is making her famous brown stew and golden, buttery bread.

Then, there’s the old dilapidated castle on the edge of the moor with the pale white face sometimes seen in the south tower. Then, there’s the sorceress’s great aunt’s house. It has everything: lush ivy cuddling the walls and roof, mullioned windows, a roaring fire, another simmering pot of brown stew and a cheery, whistling kettle, and a wall full of books, and a fluffy gray cat who refuses to move from her little bed in the window, and an overstuffed chair that the sorceress loves to sit in and read mystery novels about dilapidated Scottish castles on the edges of moors. There’s the wind whistling in the chimney that makes the fire dances and the logs crackle and spit. Absolutely perfect. Can’t you just feel it???

Thrilled, I showed it to my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, and he read it and said that, while he appreciates the numerous descriptions of buttered bread and the no-less-than-four mentions of the different kind of whistles the wind makes in the chimney, he regretted to inform me it wasn’t a story.

“It’s not a story if it’s just a lot of atmosphere and vibes, my love,” he said.

I don’t want to mess up my perfectly vibed murder mystery with a MURDER!!!! Heartbroken, I drew myself a giant bubble bath and prepared to lock myself in the bathroom with a case of mystery novels about dilapidated Scottish castles on the edges of moors. That’s when the doorbell rang. I dried off my soap bubbles and went downstairs but found that Tryxy had already beat me to the door. He, too, had just finished taking a much needed bubble bath and recently discovered a box of Harlequin romances from the eighties that the previous house owner left in a crawl space so was still pruny in his puffy bathrobe and shower cap at the door. 

Tryxy informed me that it was just someone dropping off flyers. There were three in all. One was a flyer for the Haunted Hills of Cradensburg, another was an invitation to Open Mic Poetry Night at Ink Black Coffee Club, and the last was a mysterious piece of advertising.

Gladys, it’s almost as though this flyer was written especially for me!!!! It certainly had my attention, but I had to be sure so I kept reading.

It was a forty dollar value, Gladys!!!! How was I supposed to turn that down????

Well, I regret ever buying these stupid drops. And the Dialogue Gummies turned out to be nothing but chocolate flavored laxatives!!!!

I showed the flyer to my boyfriend but he said, and I quote: “You don’t need that snake oil, my love. Haven’t you read enough stories? This stuff never works out. It’s like the monkey’s paw.”

But when I re-read the part about the “patented blend” and the “highly concentrated” and the “fast-acting,” something about those words made me feel certain that what I was buying was definitely not hogwash. WHY ELSE WOULD IT HAVE THE WORDS “PATENTED BLEND”?????

After reading the flyer, I marched straight down to that broke down cargo van in the alley way behind the caffeine-recovery clinic and forked over the $125 cash knowing that this would pay for itself in SPADES!!!!!

Home again, I opened up my amazing little story with the sorceress and while on the page she’s reading her novel and stroking the warm, purring cat, I carefully opened the bottle and squeezed the rubber cap to suck up precious drops from the vial. Carefully, I allowed a single drop to well at the bottom of the dropper. It was a black, shimmering liquid. I tapped the side of the dropper and the single drop fell onto the story. Satisfied, I went to return the dropper to the vial but accidentally released the rubber cap and a whole milliliter flowed out of the dropper and onto the story!!!!

ACK!!!!

The next thing I knew, the great aunt’s body fell through the ceiling of the cottage with a hatchet in her back, the cat developed an allergy to humans, and the delicious brown stew was bubbling over with—

You know what? I can’t even tell you what it was bubbling over with. It’s too bad to write!!!!! Whatever your mind thinks of, it’s your fault!!!

Needless to say, I was so frantic to erase those words, I accidentally dropped the bottle and it rolled across the floor. Fortunately, only one or two drops leaked out onto our floor, but little did I know that a hairline crack appeared on the base of the bottle!!!

The bottle was the last thing on my mind because right then the Dialogue Gummies kicked in and I had to make a run for it or else my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, was going to know what I’d been up to and possibly never look at me in the same light again!!!!

No sooner had I entered the convenience, Tryxy burst in on me and let me know that the Open Mic Night had been moved from Sunday to RIGHT NOW and that he was going down to read his best poems and, while he understood that I was preoccupied and it was last minute, if I didn’t come down to see him read his poems to the public for the very first time, he would feel nervous and a part of him would always wonder how much I love him.

GLADYS!!!!!! This is an emergency!!!!! Tryxy’s confidence in his art and his friendships is ON THE LINE!!!!!

Fortunately for me, I’m always fabulously dressed. I did what I had to do as fast as I could, but I had one other problem: recovering the bottle of Martin K. Hootey’s Conflict Drops!!!! I couldn’t just leave it on the floor for my boyfriend to find!!!!

I accidentally kicked the bottle and it went rolling across the floor. That’s when I discovered the crack!!!! Another drop leaked out and I developed a charley horse!!!!!

Stiff legged and in pain, I hobbled downstairs to get a zip lock bag to contain the Conflict Drops. I crawled into the bedroom and picked up the cracked vial without anymore of those horrible drops getting on me or the floor!!!!

Then I noticed the sasquatches were back and no less than three of them were climbing up the sides of my house, but that was neither here nor there.

Limping, but triumphant, I fell down the stairs with the bottle of Conflict Drops in hand and threw myself out the front door so that I could save Tryxy from feeling nervous and wondering if he was loved. Unfortunately, the bottle of Conflict Drops began to leak in the bag and corroded the plastic!!!!

A single, shimmering black drop fell from my hands and onto my front porch and in it’s place a BULL MOOSE POPPED UP!!!!!!

This is where you come in, Gladys. I’m hiding inside and will wait for you to come with your umbrella blow gun and tranquilize the moose. Or at least wave it away. Or offer it some snacks. Then, when the moose isn’t looking, I’ll sneak into your car and we can speed down into town and watch Tryxy’s poetry reading and THEN we’ll head for that alley with the broke down van and rattle the kettle of that no good snake oil salesman!!!!

I won’t settle for anything less than a full refund!!!

Or at the very least a monkey’s paw!!!!

xox,

X

P.S. Nevermind Gladuys!!!!! THe bull moose got in a fight with the sasquatches and I was able to slip out. MEET ME AT TRYXY’S POETRY READING ASAP!!!!!!! BRING YOUR COUSIN BLANCHE!!!!! I’LL BE THE ONE SCREAMING ALL THE WAY THROUGH TOWN!!!!

THE POETRY

READING WAS

A BIG

SUCCESS. I

READ MY

TACO POEM

AND ABOUT

NINEVAH. X

AND TOD

CAME AND

SO DID

GLADYS

AND HER

COUSIN

BLANCHE AND

EVEN

#BESTKITTEN

THOUGH

NO ONE

KNOWS

HOW SHE

GOT DOWN

THERE. I

FELT VERY

LOVED AND

THE OWNER

ASKED ME

TO COME

NEXT WEEK.