Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie learns the "terrible price" her time-travel power demands, with help from her MSG pals. She has fun with men in uniform and visits a sugar addicted friend's family.

Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?

Story:

Timeout-Stop/Playback/Rewind: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but since it's fan fiction, who cares? To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either Sapphire's Place,

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This is my first attempt a TG/sci-fi piece. Gentle, constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This for pure fun and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright or use of real people or incidents is for purposes of humor or parody, which gets me off the hook! Don’t yah love the fair use doctrine. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. See my agents Bill & Ted of San Dimas CA. Got my bill for their sevices the other day, bogus.

Timeout

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 12- Field Tripping for Dummies part 2 and Sleepover part 1

Madison WI, Des Moines IA - November10-12, 2006

December 13, 2006 near the Massachusetts, New Hampshire boarder on the Grand Miskatonic Shuttle - 10:00am EST

Cue music: ‘Going to the End of the Line’ by The Traveling Wilburys

Need to hurry; the Conductor says we arrive at Dunwich in minutes. I need to change out of my travel clothes and into my cycle gear for the last leg to Whateley. Overall the rail trip’s gone well. I’ve had little trouble with people recognizing me; the novelty’s worn off some in the public eye. Warners wants a follow up album; I wonder if it could be done at Whateley? I’ll have to see.

Oh sorry, as to not being recognized, it’s amazing what a little less makeup, simple blouse, sweater, skirt, hose and tennis shoe combo does to change my look. Add a baseball cap, sunglasses and my hair in a braid, and I’m a different girl.

Some people asked if I was “Joanie” or if I was related, but all I had to say was, “Can you picture me in all that leather and those silly boots?”

I have a dozen pairs of those silly boots in my luggage waiting for me at Whateley; how did I become so shoe obsessed? As to my fellow passengers, most were good about it. A couple young girls asked me politely, and I admitted I was her. They got personalized photos and CDs from me for keeping a secret - I brought some along just in case. I told them I’d e-mail them just so they could see the expressions on their parents’ faces. It will be nice to have some pen pals.

A few times there were troubles. An obnoxious -- is the any other kind -- intoxicated man would not take no for an answer. A word to the Conductor, and he was put off the train and into the hands of the police. One very nasty man followed me into an empty woman’s room at the Boston AMTRAK station and grabbed me from behind. No one assaults me! I time-stopped him, stripped him to his shorts, tied him up, then called the cops He’s lucky I didn’t do worse; after my ordeal with those kidnappers, strange men grabbing me makes me very upset. I was very lucky he didn’t try to knock me out. I still have occasional nightmares about my kidnapping; I hope this doesn’t set them off again. I’ll need to send a thank you to the Boston Police, nice people. Got to finish, I’ll write more after I get to Whateley.

* * * *
Gin offered to help me attempt a controlled time trip. She suspected the trigger involved some kind of meditative state as my only prior experiences all occurred when I was relaxed or distracted. Sara concluded that the reason it had not recurred, was I was subconsciously blocking my power. I was so traumatized by the experience of meeting my own mother, my subconscious would not allow a repeat. They both believed relaxation or similar techniques could surmount this.

“Gin, dear, your idea sounds like a sort of Don’t Worry Be Happy method for time travel.” She glared at me a moment and laughed.

“Joanie, most magic requires fierce concentration, meditation often is useful for this. It’s worth a try, and at worst you’ll have a great stress relieving tool at your disposal.” She seemed so sincere. “I can ‘see’ ley lines, the magic lines of force between various objects. I ‘see’ them much like you see things in your peripheral vision when driving a car. That’s what I need you to do, relax and concentrate on nothing directly, let your peripheral senses take over.”

We set up where no on would see us or surprise us, on the top of Bascom Hall, on a high hill on the UW-Madison campus, its oldest building. She set up magical wards to warn of intruders, then coached me towards that desired state. She held both my hands and spoke.

“Imagine you’re floating in a pool of warm, still water, not a care in the world, all is well,” Gin said in a soft, melodious tone. “Reach out with your mind, feel the totality of your body, the warmth of the sun and the water, the gentle touch of my hands, the smell of my perfume, the sound of my voice.”

“Are you trying to relax me or seduce me? The way I feel now either is go. Ghod I feel so aroused, relaxed but aroused.” Gin giggled slightly but remained calm.

“Concentrate on something that happened here in the past. Concentrate on an image, Joanie, my love.”

~So she is doing that as well, the minx. ~

I thought of something then got an odd sensation, a cross between a headache and an impending orgasm. I heard Gin gasp then speak very carefully.

“Joanie, open your eyes slowly, sit up and look around.”

She held on tight to my hands. It was obvious in her tone she was excited and scared. Bascom Hall is the oldest building on campus, well over 100 years old and still commands a good view in many directions. The crisp, dry November day was replaced by cold, snowy winter. From the roof we saw nearly all the familiar buildings gone. In the distance a great plume of smoke and flame rose to the sky, from the hill on the isthmus where the State Capitol should be. It was on fire, but this last happened in 1904!

”You did it, Joanie, we time traveled to 1904 and the last time the State Capitol burned. That’s what you thought of, wasn’t it? Gin said excitedly. “Let’s take a walk around.”

“It was, Gin, but shouldn’t we be getting back? I’d like to stay and look around but baby steps here, remember? Don’t screw up the past.”

“Forgot myself, Joanie, I’ll take a few photos from here as proof, then we’ll go back; you feeling okay, girl?”

“Just cold and extremely aroused, more than before -- damn headaches gone though,” I said in a deep, womanly tone, almost a moan. “Ghod, my panties are soaked through, and it’s not from the snow. Hurry up Gin, shoot or strip, take your pick.”

I was desperate for relief. She held my hand tight as she snapped a few.

“Okay, Joanie, think of where we came from, the smells, the sound, the feelings you had, and try for that again.” It took a few moments, the feelings came, and so did I. Oh Ghod did I, and it felt so good.

“Joanie, we’re back, definitely back. I can tell from my wards and the sticky notes I put across the rooftop door jamb.” I took a moment to answer as I felt another after climax.

“You really trust your magic, don’t you? Sticky notes, ha!”

“It’s an update on the old matchstick in the door jamb trick. How do you feel now, Joanie?” Gin asked clinically.

“Apart from a fading orgasm, ooooh ... and a minor headache which is almost gone, pretty good, Gin. At least I’m not so aroused anymore, and I am a little sleepy. Dr Sara’s advice was right about my urges ... Got a cigarette?” Gin snickered.

“You’re one damn lucky girl, Joanie; I use my powers, I get exhausted. You use yours and you get off, and you didn’t even touch yourself. I’m jealous.”

“Gin, they say half the fun of going somewhere is the journey itself, oooh baby!” Gin threw her pad of sticky notes at me.

* * * *

“So your time travel powers seem tied into your sexuality, or at least that’s how your body senses the power?” Sara paraphrased what I told her.

“That’s about it, embarrassing huh?”

Sara got that look in her eyes.

~Oh oh. ~

“You’ll have a very, um, rewarding life won’t you, dear.”

I couldn’t let her get away with that.

“One thing for sure, Sara, I’m carrying tampons and panty liners with me at all times. I was soaked by the time Gin and I got back from our ‘research’ trip. Travel is so educational,” I said, then I rolled my eyes and faked a moan. She just shook her head.

* * * *

In the first two weeks of November, I did several more with Gin’s help and that of MSG; we did a big test out at Badger Ordinance, where I took the entire Gang of Four and Red’s F250 crew cab along as a test of my limitations.

“From the test objects that traveled with us and those that did not” — tooth pick flags, and you thought they were only good to hold sandwiches together — “the area your time field envelopes is at most a radius of 30 meters or 100 feet.”

“What Red means,” Gin said, “Is you can take some pretty large objects back and forth in time but nothing like whole armies or large buildings.”

“Wow, a one-hundred foot circle!” — I’d impressed myself — “Still, there goes my plan to ‘try and take over the world’.” My Brain — as in Pinky and the Brain, NOT my mind dear d/j/w -- was not the best but it seemed appropriate.

“Ah yes. But it comes at a cost; your mind went off-line for nearly an hour afterward, some sort of trance it seemed. We worry you’ll get stuck like that if you push it too far, and it does make you very vulnerable. The larger the area transported and to some extent the mass, the longer the recovery time. Years do not seem to be the problem as much as volume,” Gin said with some concern in her voice.

Gin was unusually patient today; well I had been paying her a lot of close, personal attention recently.

~Ghod I’ve got to get my libido under control, ~ not that Gin objected.

“No pain, no gain or so they say.”

“We’re not kidding, Joanie!” Carrie sounded cross and worried. “We thought we’d lost you. Consider how vulnerable you were,” she said, and she was right; it had placed me and them at risk.

“You’re right, Carrie, anything could have happened. Good thing you gals came with me.” I heard nervous giggles from all of them.

“Ah ... Joanie, we weren’t unaffected,” Red said looking embarrassed. “We all felt tired afterwards and um, aroused.”

“Aroused? Red, you came so hard I thought you were having an epileptic seizure,” said Gin.

“You should talk, Gin. I haven’t seen that look on your face since the Labor Day road trip, and I, let’s say I feel great. I wonder if this isn’t some empathic effect. Mom suspected you might have some talent but couldn’t be sure, Joanie. Someday we’ll need to test you for it. Oh, and Joanie, thanks, you were the best I’ve ever had.” It took several minutes for us to all stop laughing.

“I’ll keep it in mind, Carrie.”

* * * *

It was time for a break and alone; I needed time to think, and I needed to see if I could take care of myself. Early on the second Saturday of November, I took off in my Focus for the first time solo since July 3rd. I’d not driven it much since, though Sara had my car transported to Madison back in mid July. I told Sara I was going for a few days but would keep in touch. I bought a prepaid cell phone just in case, giving only Sara my number. I didn’t want the Gang of Three running to the rescue unnecessarily, and I had to test myself, stand on my own two Steve Zinc number 11 clad feet.

~How do they make these so comfortable? ~

I understand they make some really sexy cat suits. I headed south west on US HWY18 / US HWY151 for Iowa and a long overdue visit.

I arrived at Terrace Hill some seven hours later, I did have to eat and go, you know. I wore my brown MSG bomber jacket, personalized with “Joanie” sewn across the top back and front top pocket, over a cream, wool turtleneck and black leather vest, black leather pants and the boots, my hair in Mel’s ponytail clip, very stylish. I was stopped at the gate by a guard.

“Have an appointment, Miss?”

“No, just a friend of the family here to visit,” I politely replied.

He glanced at me, and I got this look from him, like he was dismissing me as unimportant, just some dumb girl.

“Sorry, you need a pass, security you know, 9-11? No pass no entrance.”

Oh he loved his job.

“If you can get Bab’s or Mel on the phone, they can vouch for me,” I offered.

“Bab’s or Mel?” he looked at me closer; I think he was ready to call for reinforcements.

“I’m sorry; I mean Ms, Williams-Johnson or her daughter Melissa. I’m a friend, my names Joan Brown, call me ‘Joanie’,” I said this cheerfully. He looked at me like I was a lunatic with a bomb. “If you’ll just call them ...“

“I don’t know who you are, Ms. Brown, if that’s who you really are. Don’t move -- I’ve called for backup. Try something, and you’ll regret it.”

~Ooh, he’s a power hungry jerk. This is going to be a fun day, I can tell. ~

A squad car raced up behind me, officers jumping out with guns drawn.

~Damn, one has a shotgun!, ~ I noted with some fear.

I felt like saying something but one: I didn’t fancy being shot despite my proven regen powers and two: I preferred they dig their own graves.

Officer Rambo, as I now thought of him, barked at me. “Get out of the car slowly, with your hands held high, turn and place your hands on the roof, arms and legs spread.”

I decided not to point out how this would make opening the door, let alone releasing my seat belt difficult, I didn’t think he’d appreciate the subtle humor. As I did this who should come by but the Governor; he was jogging with two security aids.

“What’s going on?” he called out as they ran towards us.

“Stay back, Governor, situation under control. We caught this ‘woman’ trying to break into the grounds, possible mental case.”

“I suppose being the best friend of my wife and daughter could qualify her as a mental case,” Bob chuckled.

“Hi, Bob!”

“Hi, Joanie, why are you standing with your hands and legs like that, looks uncomfortable?” Bob said, trying to calm me with some humor.

“Stretching?” The squad officers and Rambo saw the light. Rambo did not look so sure anymore. They put their guns away and said it was okay to move.

“Sorry, Miss, just a mistake,” A squad officer said as he stared at Rambo.

“Do any of you fine officers know who Joanie is?” the governor said.

This looked to get real interesting, real fast. I watched as Bob continued the show. They shook their heads, obviously not news junkies. Bob broke out in a wicked smile.

“Joanie, do you want to tell them? I’m afraid I’ll start laughing or fire people or both, I haven’t decided yet.” He looked very pleased; hey he’d just done me a personal favor.

~Ghod I love this family. ~

“Any of you have school age kids?” One nodded. “Teenagers?” he nodded again. “They buy CD’s?” he kept nodding. I think he was catching on. “Hear of one called ‘Timeless’, classic rock and country covers sung by a new, tall, long-haired strawberry blond, leather clad young female, um?” I shook out my long hair as a visual aid.

“You’re that Joanie?” he said very quietly.

“That is the secret word, and the contestant wins one-hundred dollars.” I said in a bad Groucho. I wanted one more, slow twist of the knife. “One last thing, Officer?” I hinted I needed a name.

“Schmidt?” he said doubting his own words.

“Remember how this ‘Joanie’ got discovered, Officer Schmidt? Perhaps something involving Governor Johnson’s family, this Labor Day? Hum?”

“I’m toast!”

“With butter, jam and coffee on the side, explain it to the rest of the Three Stooges, I’m off to surprise a friend.”

~That felt so good on so many levels. ~

“Mel will be so happy, Joanie. She couldn’t sleep the night your signed CD arrived. Coming dear?”

“Lead on, Bob.”

* * * *

I drove, following the Governor up to the mansion. I pulled even and spoke out the driver’s window.

“Thanks for everything back there, Bob. I hope you don’t mind me saying, as I used to be a card carrying member of the male gender, but for a man nearly my real age, you have a fine ass.”

“Not at all, Joanie, just don’t say it in front of Babs.” he said between deep breaths.

“I can see why she married you, you’re very attractive, well to me now, not the old me, he liked girls, but well, I’m noticing men more and more. Please stop me before I stick my foot any deeper in my mouth, as it makes driving difficult.”

~Why did I say all that? I’m babbling to Bob just like I did when I talked with a pretty gir ... Now I’m attracted to Mel’s dad. Great! I have got to get a boyfriend, girlfriend or both and soon. ~

* * * *

I parked and followed him into Terrace Hill, trying hard not to stare at his tight buns as we walked up the flights of stairs to the private fourth floor. He did some stretches to cool down, the hi-tech fabric of his all-weather running suit doing little to hide his still trim and muscular physique. He turned and I could clearly see the impressive bulge ...

~Now I’m sneaking peeks at his genitals. Naughty Joanie, bad, bad, bad girl; he’s married, Bab’s a friend and Mel would never forgive you, girl. Oooh, but he’s sooo Big ... NO NO NO Joanie. I need those biofeedback lessons bad or a damn cold shower. I may have some control over my powers, but my libido is gaining control over me. This gets any worse; I should be on Desperate Housewives or in a Planetary Agents/Peapod crossover. Hum ... if GG and Dairy Maid joined and made us the Gang of Six? Oh my! I’ve got to get my mind off the subject. ~

“Bob, could I go somewhere and freshen up. I’m uncomfortable after my long drive, and I’d like to be presentable for Babs and Mel.” I was trying hard not to seduce the poor man.

“Sure, Joanie, guest rooms at the end of the hall, shower, Jacuzzi and everything. Toss me your keys, and I’ll bring up your bags.”

“You don’t need to do that; I’m a big girl now,” I said petulantly.

Bob deliberately broke eye contact and looked down for a moment “I’ve noticed. Sorry, just trying to be a good host, and that was too good a straight-line to pass on Joanie. Toss me the keys; I’ll be back in a jiff’,” he said holding back a laugh. I threw him my keys and went to the guest room.

* * * *

I showered, and got some blessed relief in the Jacuzzi. Bob had left my bags on the bed. I was sitting on the bed finishing dressing when I heard excited voices.

“Who, Daddy, who’s here to visit me, Daddy: tell me, tell me, tell me please!” Mel sounded ready to go into bouncing mode.

“Tell me too, Bob, please.” It was Babs. “Who’s come to visit Mel?” She was calm but as insistent.

~Now I know were Mel gets it from. ~

“Oh, just some girl from Wisconsin,” I could hear the smile in his voice even down the hall and through my closed door.

“I don’t know any girls from Wisconsin, Daddy?” Mel said, confused.

I heard a squeal and feet pounding down the hallway.

“Joanie, are you here, Joanie?”

She burst through the door and leapt onto the bed.

“When did you get here, Joanie; how long can you stay -- we can have a sleepover again -- I’ll call all my girl friends, and they’ll come over, and we can have lots and lots of fun together -- oh how I missed you, Joanie!”

She ran out of steam and simply stared at me with those sapphire puppy dog/kitten in the rain eyes. Once she got older that look would be devastating, the boys wouldn’t stand a chance, lucky boys.

“I missed you too, Mel. Not certain how long I can stay, but we can have some fun, sure. Just so long your mom and dad say okay,” I said; she just smiled and bounced.

“Hi, Babs, I see you cut down on her sugar intake.”

Babs giggled, “I was the same at her age, a Williams’s girl curse. Glad you came, Mel keeps talking about you, and it’s driving us crazy.” She rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

~Definitely like-mother-like-daughter, Babs is the grown up version of Mel, no doubt. ~

“Meant to come earlier, but things got in the way. Can I have a quick word with your Mom and Dad, Mel? I won’t be long. You can stay and listen if you want.”

“It’s okay, Joanie; I want to get my collection ready to show you.”

“Collection?”

“Her Joanie collection: every time she sees an article in a newspaper or magazine about you, she keeps it for her collection, posters too.”

“There are posters of me? I didn’t know.”

“Warners made them for the displays that promote your CD. Mel begged the man at Sam Goodies so hard he gave her one of theirs, that and the life-size cardboard cutout of you in that leather outfit,” Babs explained, smiling warmly.

“Now I’m a giant cardboard cutout, what’s next, a Barbie doll?” Babs snickered.

“She has two of those, special limited edition Barbie dolls, one she plays with, the other in its factory sealed box, as an investment she says.”

“I’m a Barbie doll?” I was shocked. “I never authorized that.”

“Actually you did, I asked Dad. Don’t worry, you get a very nice royalty on each, a large part of which goes to the charities you designated, says so on the box.”

“But a Barbie doll?”

“Not Barbie but her new friend ‘Joanie’, and you have an action grip.”

“What?”

“You can hold the included microphone or grasp Skippers wrist as you drag her to safety.”

“That’s something I suppose.” I said resignedly. A piece of me was ecstatic.

~I’ve hit the big time, an action grip, wow! ~

“What I wanted to say is, I’ve worked on my powers control so I think its safe to have a sleepover, just she shouldn’t say I’m here to be safer,” I explained.

“You mean that time-stop you saved Mel with?” Babs said.

“I’m better with that too; no, I mean my primary power, the one I experienced the day I mutated but not again until recently,” I said excitedly. I had to tell someone.

“You have another power, what super speed, or x-ray vision?”

“Don’t be silly, Bob.” said Babs.

“It’s better than that, it’s time,” I said.

“It’s time for what, Joanie?” Babs was confused.

“Sorry, I said that poorly.”

~Whew, caught myself, nearly said, ‘my bad.’ ~

“My primary power is time-related like my secondary, the time-stop. Put simply, I time travel,” I said calmly.

“Like in sci-fi, as in H. G. Well’s The Time Machine?” asked Bob. They looked pale.

“Right out of Doctor Who, I’m my own TARDIS.” I hoped they’d heard of the British cult TV classic.

“The one with the time traveling police box -- you can do that, Joanie?” Babs said.

“Pretty much, Babs: except I travel though time, not time and space, well not as such.”

“Not as such, Joanie?” Babs asked.

They were still confused but so was I. This was about as clear as the instructions to program a VCR.

“I can travel to the past and come back in a different place. I can even transport sizable objects and interact in the past, but I move in distance the normal way. I walk, ride a bike or take a bus and such.” They nodded. “As to my kidnapping, that trick won’t work on me so well now as most of my clothes are carbon nano-tube fiber enhanced. Even some of my hose -- it cost a bundle. Don’t worry, if things get too hairy, I’ll bug off, I won’t put Mel or you at risk.” I smiled and gave them hugs. Ghod it felt good.

* * * *

Mel showed off her collection. It took an entire bookcase and the corner of her room, including the cutout. You know, I did look hot in that outfit. Mr. Karaoke was right to choose that one, and I thought it was for autographed photos. She’d spent a lot of effort on her collection, and it showed. She had everything sorted by category and cross-referenced by date. She’ll make a great museum curator someday, very organized.

“I was so scared when they said you’d been shot at and kidnapped, and they couldn’t find you,” Mel said barely stopping for breath.

“Slow down, Mel, you’re making me dizzy.” she giggled.

“When they rescued you, and Big Red got you free, and you stood up without any ...” Mel looked embarrassed.

-- Note to self: I’ll need to see if they sent those fat checks. --

“That’s okay, Mel, those nasty people stripped me so they could hurt me more, but I’m fine now.”

“I was scared for you, Joanie, but I wanted to say you looked so pretty even without any clothes,” She said this still smiling.

“I looked pretty when I was naked, Mel?” This was strange coming from an eleven year old girl.

“Yah, Joanie, you’re so tall and not fat, and you have such nice boobies and stuff.”

“Why are you talking about my boobies, I mean my breasts, Mel? That’s a little personal.” Mel got all conspiratorial looking.

“Want to know a secret, Joanie?” She was grinning.

“Okay, sure.” I rubbed my hands with glee, she giggled again.

“I’m growing breasts too, want to see?” She raised her printed t-shirt revealing a pretty lace trimmed bra. “I wear a bra now, it’s a training bra ‘cause they’re little, but Mom’s helped me measure to myself every Saturday since you first met me and they’re bigger every time. I’m almost an A cup.” She looked very proud.

“So Mel’s becoming a woman, I’m so happy for you. You’re gonna be very pretty; look at your mom and dad, you look a little like both. Give me a model’s turn so I can see.”

She turned slowly for me. I was so happy for her, nice kid. Plus if they get anywhere near her mom’s size, it should curb the bouncing -- just too painful.

“Mom says I’m developing a woman’s waist and hips, see?” She spun again then rested her hands on her hips to show off. We both giggled.

“I like my parents, and school’s okay, but sometimes I just wish I grow up real quick. Being an adult is so kewl.” She frowned a bit.

“It is, Mel, but being a kid is fun too. No responsibilities -- not any big ones anyway. Maybe that’s why what happened to me happened.”

~Oh that was clear, any more confusing, and I could write fine print for Hollywood contracts. ~

“I mean, Mel, maybe Ghod if you believe in one, fate, or whatever figured I need to see life from a new perspective, you know a different point of view. Maybe all this,” I gestured along my body, “is some great cosmic joke. All I know for sure is I saw life as a boy and then a man. I now see life a young woman, yet I remember the boy and the man. The trick is to balance these and come out a whole, sane person. Throw in the mutant powers and wow, I’ve got one crazy life. For the most part it’s good, and you’re a large part of why it’s good, Mel. You made me realize I need to help people and be with them, not just exist. You understand?” My, I was philosophical.

“I think I do, Joanie.” She got this puzzled look on her face then got real serious, real Girl serious. Oooh, smell the estrogen. “I know this, Joanie, you’re as much a lady as Mom and as much a girl as me. I don’t see the man or boy in there. Maybe they come out when you need to be strong, I don’t know. I just know you and Mom are the girls I most want to be like.” She stopped; I thought I saw a tear. I gave her a quick hug and a big smile.

“Cheer up, Mel, don’t let Joanie get you down. Time for serious stuff is over, what you want to do for fun, girl?”

* * * *

To be continued

I’m experimenting with some of the tips Cathy_t and Amelia_R sent me and am trying to format more in the Whateley canon style. Let me know if this chapter was easier to read. Let’s see now, independent clauses, subordinate clauses, Santa Clauses. Thanks.

This latest version follows in the style I’ve adapted from Itinerant, thanks to all who have helped.

Revised 03/22/2006
Re-formatted and revised 09/04/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance.

Notes:

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