Getting Old...

My plan for the weekend was to write a story -- perhaps finish A Glitch in Time, my third Continuity Crusaders story.

Instead, I wasted most of Saturday playing Second Life, then went to Writer's Night where I read Mostless in Capertown, which people liked.  I changed one word in the story based on a suggestion, but the story works pretty well as is.

Sunday I slept in late, but in the afternoon two new story ideas came to me based on my thinking about how old Grandpa Anarchy is, and how old some of his main villains are.  Grandpa continues to thrive due to a super soldier serum he took years ago, but what of his nemesis Carnival Act?  I considered having Carnival Act actually die -- he's got to be very old -- and then, of course, there was the question of "how does he save  the lives of millions", which a future Grandpa Anarchy claimed he would, if he dies?  All of this spun into a story idea I want to write up very soon called Final Act.

Another big villain of Grandpa's who should be getting very old is Sgt. Payback.  He's survived many apparent deaths.  He's also the man who was supposed to receive the super soldier serum that Grandpa got -- which is why he hates Grandpa Anarchy.  But what if he had gotten a dose of serum later?  That might explain why he's so resilient and why he's still around.  What if he doesn't even realize it?

All of this got spun into a fourth Continuity Crusaders plot in my head, and by Monday morning I'd finished Serum Theorem, my latest story.  I think it works.  ^_^

In the hallway outside, a young man in World War I flight leathers waited.  He followed the woman to a stairwell, where she quickly stripped out of the nurses uniform and donned a peasant dress.

"He knows you?" Wayback Boy asked.

"It certainly seems so," the woman replied.

  "But when did Sgt. Payback ever meet Kid Continuity?"

"That is the question at hand, yes," she replied.

"And why did we save him?" the man asked.  "He's a villain."

"Because," she said, "I had to talk to him.  I had to find out for sure...."

"But aren't you changing future history by interfering?"

"Don't get all determinism on me," Kid Continuity snapped.  "For us the future is not yet decided.  Nobody can tell me different.  I make my own decisions based on what seems best to me.  Anyway," she added, "we didn't save him, exactly.  He would have survived anyway.  He always does.  Haven't you ever wondered how that is?"

"Not really," the boy replied.

"Well I have," she said.  "He's every bit as indestructible as Grandpa Anarchy himself.  Why, I wonder?  We're about to find out.

"Get your pack.  We're headed to Ayacucho, Peru, April 17, 1949."

EDIT:  By late evening I had also finished Final Act.  I think this one works too, and it's a big milestone in Grandpa Anarchy history, the end of an era, so to speak.  Although I also have another idea in mind for a future story in which a new Carnival Act comes to town....

Would you believe I've now written 94 Grandpa Anarchy stories?  This time last year I'd written 8.

"Grampy-Poo!" a familiar voice called out.  It came from everywhere at once -- apparently the pubic address system still worked.  "You came!  How long has it been?"

"Not long enough, Carnival Act," Grandpa replied, looking about for his long-time nemesis.

"I knew you'd come calling when I sent that message.  So very predictable, a hero until the end."  The voice echoed off rusting carnival rides and buildings in long disuse.  "Welcome!  This lovely place has been my based of operations these last few years.  Built in 1961 and closed in 1982.  I bought it for a song.  A perfect spot for our final showdown, isn't it?"

Grandpa spun slowly about, still not seeing anyone.  "It's always the final showdown with you, isn't it?" he called out.

"Of course!  But this time, Grampy-Poo, I mean it."

The criminal clown suddenly appeared atop the Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego Fire-y Furnace Tilt-a-Whirl ride.  He wore his usual outfit -- black pants and boots, red silk jacket and velvet waistcoat and a black silk top hat, like the circus ringmaster he emulated, but with the white face and rainbow-hued hair of a clown.  In one hand he gripped his leather whip, in the other a silver-tipped walking cane.

"Tonight," said Carnival Act, "one of us will die."

"So be it," said Grandpa, clenching his fists.  "But it ain't gonna be me!"