Still going with the story of Fred Johnson, Paragon of Virtue. Here are links to the previous episodes. If you need/want to catch up, click here for the 1st installment, 2nd installment, 3rd installment, 4th installment, 5th installment, 6th installment, 7th installment., 8th installment, 9th installment, 10th installment, 11th installment, 12th installment, 13th installment, 14th installment, 15th installment, 16th installment, 17th installment, 18th installment, 19th installment. 20th installment...
5:30 pm Saturday. Finally got something written. It seems to be getting increasingly difficult as the story moves on. I'm kind of longing for random small paragraphs again. But those hold their own challenges, I guess. Feel like I was kind of treading water this week, but at least I got something done.
Words for this week's challenge were: scratched, coat, phenomenal, craftsmanship, clean, ship, scattered, waiver, always, my favorite things And for the mini: chowder, fingers, plunge, sunshine on a cloudy day, regressive
Now that he was hooked, the Paragon and McFlash decided that they should clean Purpose Perfidy up a bit - not to mention getting him sober - before moving head with their plan. There were a number of reasons for this - first, they didn't really HAVE a plan, just a vague general collection of scattered ideas and the goal of learning more in hopes of knowing where to aim their endeavors. With that in mind - after seeing that he had a warm bath, and giving him some new clothing (including a warm coat) to replace the rags he had been wearing when they found him), they brought him to Bubble's kitchen where she served him a bowl of Confetti's famous Sunshine on a Cloudy Day Chowder. "I hope you like the soup," the Paragon said. "It's one of my favorite things of all of Chef Confetti's amazing means." "It's phenomenal," the painter replied, "as an artist, I always appreciate craftsmanship in any creative endeavor and this is the work of a master indeed. It is an honor to partake of such a meal. I was an artist once," he continued and then seemed to waiver in his desire to say more. "If the painting of Amelia Purist, is any indication, you are a great painter, sir," Fred offered. At the mention of the portrait the painter seemed to be plunged into a mix of fear and despair that made the Paragon think perhaps he had not been a willing participant in whatever evil Psycho's father had engaged him in. On impulse, he decided to be direct. "Is the painting enchanted?" he asked. What happened next took them all by surprise. As though of their own volition, the painter's fingers rose to his face as though he would scratch his own eyes out. "Not only the painting," he gasped. Although he didn't have the skill yet to counter such powerful magic, Fred managed to conjur a pair of boxing gloves onto the artist's hands to protect him at least temporarily and at the same time sent a mental message to the dragon to see if she knew a cure. "I was a good man," the painter sobbed. "I had no idea what they were asking me to do until it was too late." As he spoke these words, the Wizard Spark materialized next to him. "Quick thinking with those gloves," he muttered. "Well done, Paragon. Paraphrase has sent me to see if we can undo the curse on this poor soul - and with it, hopefully, the curse on Psycho and his mother and this Kingdom." After which words, he put a hand on the painter's shoulders and said, "Come, weeping one, I will take you to Dragon Paraphrase and between us we will absolve you from this evil and regressive magic and free you to help us undo what has been done." And then, with the words, "SHIP, GRIP, FLIP, TRIP, ZIP," he disappeared as quickly as he had arrived, taking the painter with him.
Regressive magic? I guess that's what would be called Black magic on earth. Do you think they can save him. Have you ever seen anything like that - what his fingers were about to do? It was horrible," he continued, lost in speculation, pacing the room in rapid circles, plunging from thought to thought, possibility to possibility, deeply shaken by the events that had just taken place. When he finally paused for breath and looked up at his speechless companions, he asked, "Is there any more of Confetti's Chowder?" I'm ravenous and I need the nurture that his meals offer. What are we going to tell Psycho?"
"Boy, that soup has always been one of my favorite things to have for a meal. Everything Confetti makes is food for the soul and the body, but that chowder is - as Perfidy said - phenomenal, even for Confetti. It's like a warm coat on a cold day." He paused for breath and looked at his friends. "I've been talking non-stop, haven't I? My apologies. I'll try to clean up my act. I get like this when I'm unsure or my thoughts are scattered or I feel myself waiver about what to do next.... I talk. I'm still doing it, aren't I? I fear I have only scratched the surface of my anxiety and try as I may, I can't seem to ship my thoughts off to some corner to fester or stop my mouth from going on and on.... Can either of you stop me? Where is the Count? Weren't you supposed to be watching him, Bubbles? Beautiful craftsmanship on that necklace, by the way... Is it one of your own?" Giggling, Bubbles, nodded yes and added. I think we need to feed you some dessert. It's the only way to stop you from talking. And maybe it would be good to check in with Paraphrase and the Wizard and see what how they are doing? As for Psycho, I talked him into spending some time in the greenhouse with his roses and I have someone keeping an eye on him. He seems fragile, but I that is a sign of great hope to me that his true self still lives. You are truly the Paragon you were foretold to be. I have hope now that my child will be born into a better world. Thank you for that. Hope is the first step on the road to change."
Words for next week's 10-word challenge: pampered, snow on the roof, alchemy, music, polar bear, number one, sneezing, join, traffic, hanging
And for the mini: shampoo, shattered, cosmic harmony, curvature, caterpiller
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