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Young Writers Society
Fri Feb 17, 2017 2:01 am
Leslie Badger, Elliot Inn
Leslie was washing some glasses in the sink behind the bar, when she heard a voice from behind. ''Hey, Lessie!'' She turned to see Octavia standing there.
''Oh, Miss De Laar. What can I get you?''
''A can of oil, if you have any.'' she smiled brightly.
''Oil.'' Leslie blinked, and screwed up her face in thought for a moment.
''Yes, I've got some. But don't you usually have a can with you?''
She bent down to open the second drawer in the bar cupboard. There was an oilcan in there for the inn's automatons.
''It ran out. I had to give some to the trog at the bridge so I could pass.''
Leslie came up with the can. ''Don't you mean a troll?''
''No, I mean a trog. Only babies believe in trolls.''
Leslie shrugged, and smiled. ''Sure, why not.'' she handed over the can.
''Try not to use it all. What're you workin' on?''
Octavia took the can, and brought out a clockwork mouse from her bag.
''I found him broken in the street. Sad thing.''
Then she took the mouse and the can, and scurried off to find a corner.
Leslie found her again, still there, just half an hour before closing time. The inn's bar was almost completely deserted. ''Hullo, how's the little fella doing?''
Octavia was sitting at a table in the corner. The mouse was on the table, fixed and then forgotten. She was now playing with a little music box, about the size of a tobacco tin. It was painted maroon, with swirly vines painted over it.
On closer inspection of the box, it was actually a real tobacco tin that was repurposed into a music box.
Octavia looked back up at Leslie. ''He's fine. And his name is Otto. Otto McCaliber Deveraux Samson Au Cavalier. But he doesn't like the formality of the whole thing, so he's just Otto.''
Leslie smiled one of her crooked smiles. ''I like that name.'' she paused.
''Say, is that song- Blimey, I can't remember what it was called- it was some old cabaret song my mum used to sing.''
Octavia lit up. ''Piracy and Prejudice. I've seen it onstage. The song was 'Old Bonnie Bonebreaker.' I loved the dance that they did with it. I could teach it to you.''
Leslie's smile became a little nervous. ''Gee, that would be sweet, but it's almost closing time now. Why don't you catch me on a Sunday, then we'll talk.''
Chasing the coattails of Saint Lennox.
If you can't describe what you are doing as a process, you don't know what you're doing.
— W. Edwards Deming
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