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Pastimes : Muffy's Story: A Short Story Game for Would Be Authors -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: E who wrote (268)	8/15/1998 1:14:00 PM
From: Solon	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 766

...meanwhile...Muffin needed some clothes--badly--Mex was obviously not going to be up and about again for some time! She closed her eyes tightly and held her head in both hands as that feeling washed over her again. "God help me", she thought, "this is no fun at all!" Muff was in a fugue state, and she was vaguely aware of it somewhere within the copious spaces of her brain. She suspected she was no longer dreaming, but she did not know when the actual dream had ended. Being dressed in butter was no dream! Oh! that was real enough all right! But the goat had to have been a dream, right? "Right?!" she screamed out loud, as the fugue state had its way with her, just as everyone and everything always had... So where in the hell had she gotten the butter?? Well, some questions were best left unanswered; or, as the President was fond to say: "All questions are best left unanswered!" Phantasmagoric images floated unobstructed through her brain--images of a strange man straddling her on the restaurant floor, his tongue probing her lips. Then a woman pulling him off: "Enough, Dixie! She is coming around; I think you've saved her life!" Where do dreams end? Where does illusion begin? Where do delusions creep in to comfort? Weighty questions for a little girl lost in a big world: a girl that had stripped naked, smeared her entire body with butter (possibly from the restaurant?), and then wandered down lonely streets searching for...what? The fugue state fiddled with her incipient ideas. Suddenly, she was blocked by a huge throng of people. A tall lanky man with scarecrow hair moved ahead of the crowd: "Stone her! Stone her! She is a Jezebel, a witch, a what, and a maybe...kill her!" The myrmidons roared their approval... But Muffy slipped through the throng easily and with a buttery wave (which was becoming second nature!) she was gone, and soon arrived at a small village. In the small market square she noticed an old hag haggling over some garment that a passerby was seeking to purchase. Muffin moved toward the stall: clothing: robes, saris, pyjamas...she needed clothing. That ancient craving to improve upon her looks was flooding over in theta waves. Out of the distance she heard a wee small voice: Mex?? What was he doing here? (This damn fugue state!)