Hero's Manual
Here’s Chap 3, just because Jo asked about it.
Chapter 3: Coffee is not your friend
At about the same time that Quasi was beginning round three of the day’s polishing, the sun was peeking past the curtains in Gwen’s apartment. It was sorely disappointed to find Gwen demurely covered in a house robe, herself peeking into the kitchen with a hesitant expression.
"Hero?"
Hero looked up from the kitchen table and stood up quickly, knocking half of what had been a full cup of coffee onto his handbook. The handbook sputtered quietly, relishing the caffeine too much to complain.
“Yup. Hi. Good morning.”
“How’d you sleep?”
“Didn’t. But usually lying out flat.”
Gwen looked disapprovingly at the coffee-drenched book and table. She reached into the cupboard for a coffee mug, but found it empty: every mug she owned, bar one, was sitting in the sink.
“You’ve been up all night?” she said as she rinsed a mug.
“What? Yes. All night, been up all night. Funny, not tired,” muttered Hero as he carefully turned a soppy page.
Gwen helped herself to coffee and sat down opposite Hero.
“Have you been reading the Hero’s Handbook?” she said, trying to draw Hero into conversation. All she got from his was “Shh” so she set about making breakfast. As she was buttering toast, a sudden whoop startled her. The toast flew into the air in half a dozen shattered pieces, every one of which strove to prove Murphey’s Law. One didn’t quite manage, and was shunned for the rest of its life, which ended a short while later in the garbage bag.
“Yes! Who’s the man? Who’s the heroic wonder-man?”
“Guhnaaaa!” was all Hero got in response for one startled second.
When Gwen had recovered and managed to turn around from the counter, she saw Hero doing the Traditional Dance of High Spirits (a strange jiggling incoherent set of hand and knee movements).
“I’ve read it! I read the whole thing, start to finish. Even the index, though that didn’t make much sense,” squealed Hero, chancing fate by reaching for his coffee mug.
Gwen stifled a smile and instead crossed her arms.
“Hero, have you been drinking coffee all night?”
“Yes! Coffee is my friend! I could never have made it without him. Her. It. Coffee makes me strong, and awake and I love himherit and I’m so cool that I’ve finished the Manual.”
“And coffee makes you coherent?”
“I don’t remember much of it, though,” said Hero as he paused in his dance. He looked down at his coffee-sloshed shirt. “But coffee will make me remember everything.”
“No. No more coffee,” said Gwen firmly, prying the now-empty mug from his hand. “Toast is also your friend, Hero, and will clear up that muddled brain of yours.”
“Thank you, Damsel.” Hero giggled. “Damsel. That’s so funny!”
“What?”
“Damn!”
“Oh god...” Gwen turned away horrified at the poster-boy of “Your sleep-deprived brain on drugs.” It was not a pretty sight, even for the hardened people among us.
Chapter 3: Coffee is not your friend
At about the same time that Quasi was beginning round three of the day’s polishing, the sun was peeking past the curtains in Gwen’s apartment. It was sorely disappointed to find Gwen demurely covered in a house robe, herself peeking into the kitchen with a hesitant expression.
"Hero?"
Hero looked up from the kitchen table and stood up quickly, knocking half of what had been a full cup of coffee onto his handbook. The handbook sputtered quietly, relishing the caffeine too much to complain.
“Yup. Hi. Good morning.”
“How’d you sleep?”
“Didn’t. But usually lying out flat.”
Gwen looked disapprovingly at the coffee-drenched book and table. She reached into the cupboard for a coffee mug, but found it empty: every mug she owned, bar one, was sitting in the sink.
“You’ve been up all night?” she said as she rinsed a mug.
“What? Yes. All night, been up all night. Funny, not tired,” muttered Hero as he carefully turned a soppy page.
Gwen helped herself to coffee and sat down opposite Hero.
“Have you been reading the Hero’s Handbook?” she said, trying to draw Hero into conversation. All she got from his was “Shh” so she set about making breakfast. As she was buttering toast, a sudden whoop startled her. The toast flew into the air in half a dozen shattered pieces, every one of which strove to prove Murphey’s Law. One didn’t quite manage, and was shunned for the rest of its life, which ended a short while later in the garbage bag.
“Yes! Who’s the man? Who’s the heroic wonder-man?”
“Guhnaaaa!” was all Hero got in response for one startled second.
When Gwen had recovered and managed to turn around from the counter, she saw Hero doing the Traditional Dance of High Spirits (a strange jiggling incoherent set of hand and knee movements).
“I’ve read it! I read the whole thing, start to finish. Even the index, though that didn’t make much sense,” squealed Hero, chancing fate by reaching for his coffee mug.
Gwen stifled a smile and instead crossed her arms.
“Hero, have you been drinking coffee all night?”
“Yes! Coffee is my friend! I could never have made it without him. Her. It. Coffee makes me strong, and awake and I love himherit and I’m so cool that I’ve finished the Manual.”
“And coffee makes you coherent?”
“I don’t remember much of it, though,” said Hero as he paused in his dance. He looked down at his coffee-sloshed shirt. “But coffee will make me remember everything.”
“No. No more coffee,” said Gwen firmly, prying the now-empty mug from his hand. “Toast is also your friend, Hero, and will clear up that muddled brain of yours.”
“Thank you, Damsel.” Hero giggled. “Damsel. That’s so funny!”
“What?”
“Damn!”
“Oh god...” Gwen turned away horrified at the poster-boy of “Your sleep-deprived brain on drugs.” It was not a pretty sight, even for the hardened people among us.