...his frustration got too much for him. He had to do something to take his mind off it. Getting out a pad of paper (coincidentally one of the ones Deja Voodoo used to manifest on), he continued his author mana calculations. There must be something he had overlooked! His dick depended on it!
An hour or so of fruitless scribbling later, he gave up. The kicker came when the pad started writing itself:
Dabbler, if you insist on waking me up, can't you find a better way than scribbling nonsense all over my face?
"Sorry, DVd," Dabbler sighed. "It's just that this business with Shackleton has me really bugged. You wouldn't care to join the fight against him, would you?"
I beg your pardon, but with whom? I don't believe I recognize the name.
"Oh skip it, it's an alias, and if I tell you who I think is really meant it'll probably be backlink city around here."
Ah. I get the picture. Have you tried out-eruditing him?
"Say what?"
That is your usual tactic, is it not?
"I'm not sure, I seem to be cut off from my original at the moment. Say, it wouldn't be you writing me, would it?"
Guilty. You left a thread hanging, so I decided to attach it where it seems to go. But it's your own fault. You did wake me up.
"Yeah? Who wrote me into waking you up, that's what I'd like to know."
There was a scribble on the pad that looked suspiciously like a chuckle, and then nothing more.
At that point Fitzgerald knocked heavily on Dabbler's door, and the barefoot author went to answer it. Oddly, the other Author seemed to be dressed differently than he had been earlier, and not at all worn out from the events of the day (or night).
"I thought you went to bed," Dabbler said.
Fitzgerald nodded, and replied in American Sign Language, which Dabbler, oddly, understood. I did, Fitzgerald signed, in this thread. I'm coming to you from another, in which you didn't get involved in the fight with Shackleton. I've got an idea.
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Wed Jun 27 10:24:16 2001
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