Thursday May 31st, 2012

The exercise:

All right, after reading Greg's comment on yesterday's post I couldn't resist. The challenge today is: the crossover.

Take two (or more, I suppose) characters from different stories (yours or someone else's) and bring them into a scene together. Per Greg's inspiration, I bring you Josie (from yesterday) and Henri (click on the label if this is your first encounter with this fine gentleman).

The day off was glorious, by the way. Should take one more often.

Mine:

Standing outside the smudged glass doors of the lonely motel, Henri breathed cigarette smoke out of his nostrils and considered his options. They were, in short, not very good.

He either had to get a room here or sleep in his rental car. Seeing as he was stuck with the convertible his secretary had booked for him and the local weather idiot was calling for a torrential downpour overnight, he stepped inside the lobby with a muttered oath.

"What exorbitant amount must I pay for the privilege of a room in this ghastly dump?" he asked the bored woman behind the counter, his words clear despite the smouldering cigarette between his lips.

"You're going to have to check that attitude at the door if you want an answer before the sun comes up," she replied without looking away from the TV set up on the counter to her left. From what Henri could tell it was tuned into a sports match of some sort.

"Judging by the number of keys on your board back there... Josie," Henri said as he squinted at the name tag attached to her shirt by some unseen and weakening force, "you're not in any position to turn away a paying customer. So I'd suggest playing a little more nicely."

"I bet you'd like me to play nicely with your miniature package," Josie said, eyeing him up and down with naked distaste. "But this ain't that sort of establishment and you do not want to see what happens if you insist on pressing the matter."

Henri regarded her in silence, blinking away the fumes from his cigarette while he tried to decide what to make of this woman. The only thing he was certain of was that he'd never, in his extensive and miserable travels, met a motelier anything like her before.

"How much for the night?" he asked at length.

"Fifty for a single, seventy-five for a double. Though you should know that all of my rooms are non-smoking."

"And you should know," Henri said as he slapped a fifty dollar bill on the counter between them, "that all my rooms are very, very pro-smoking."

5 Comments:

Greg said...

Heh, I'm kind of proud to have prompted this prompt, and it's always delightful to see Henri darkening these pages with his sinister, machiavellian presence! (By the way, I approve of the day off, that was a good idea).
The whole story feels like a powder-keg with the fuse hissing and spitting erratically so you don't know how long you've got before it explodes. I really like Henri's superior attitude and the way he looks at the key-board to decide if he's in a stronger position than the motelier. Josie's refusal to be cowed is just the icing on the cake!

Crossover: Miss Snippet and Sylvestra
[For people who may not have read much of my contributions here, Miss Snippet is a primary school teacher who believes in child labour and making a profit and Sylvestra is one third of the council of nastiness, a super-villain with her own line of cosmetics.]

Miss Snippet turned the page of the application form over, and continuing reading. Her lips were steadily pursing, and her fingers had starting drumming on the desk.
"Why is that little girl wearing a hard-hat?" asked Sylvestra, who was staring out of the window of the classroom. Outside, in thirty-degree heat, children were toiling away putting in the foundations for a school fountain.
"She's the foreman," said Miss Snippet without looking up. "She's got the strongest mathematics skills, so she's making sure things are put in right. This... child you'd like to enrol? He seems rather old for primary school."
"Not mentally," said Sylvestra, turning away from the window. It must have been a cloud passing the sun, thought Miss Snippet, but for a moment Sylvestra seemed wrapped in shadow.
"But actually," she persisted. "It says here he was born in 1894. He should be dead, not coming to school."
"Believe me, it's not for the want of trying," said Sylvestra. "What's the real issue here? He'll fit in perfectly, and if you accidentally use him in the foundations we'll all understand that these things happen."
"That would be murder!" Miss Snippet managed to look shocked. "There's no profit in murder."
Sylvestra's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm not sure you can actually murder the Green Lightbulb," she said, "but why would there need to be a profit in it? You get another worker, I get rid of a pest... surely this is a win-win?"
"I only deal in win-lose," said Miss Snippet sharply. "Sit down. I can see we have a lot to discuss."

Cathryn Leigh said...

Crossovers! I love it! I seem to do it a lot with my characters on Protagonize... Not that Spook and I could stop our characters from invading each other stories. It’ll be sad to edit them out. :}

Anyway let me see here... *snickers*


Crossover

“Why am I in your spaceship?” Sarah looked about the control room, taking in its metallic surfaces and darkened main screen.

“Well we’re sister heroines, so I thought you might want a joy ride, before you got hitched...” Rachael’s hand passed over the desk in front of her which, immediately came to life. Her fingers traced patterns upon the board as groups of windows popped up on the large screen before her.

Sarah slid into the seat next to Rachael, fascinated despite her dislike of the woman. “So who put you up to it? I know she didn’t. She has issues with your morals.”

“She thinks she does, but she’s just jealous.”

Sarah snorted.

“But, if you must know.” Rachael’s eyes flicked over the windows before touching one to bring it to the for front. “Greg put Mark who put her up to it.”

“I thought you couldn’t read good old fashioned English text?” Sarah looked intently at the enlarged picture of Daily Writing Practice.

“Only when she’s not busy breaking the fourth wall.” Rachael grinned.


For those who might not know (but these two appear here often): Rachael is my Adrenaline Junkie Nymphomaniac and heroine of my Science Fiction story, The Nueri. Sarah is my tomboy farm girl from ‘now’ and heroine of my Fantasy Trilogy, The Phoenixes of Vervell. They rarely get along in my head, though like sisters they will form a team against outside forces. :}

Morrigan Aoife said...

Quickly turning from a soft drizzle to torrential downpour the rain whipped into the face of Willy Wonka as he hurried down a busy London street. Eager to keep himself dry, Wonka slipped under the awning of a squat brick building and scanned the street. Wet newspapers launched themselves into the air while a deluge of rain poured from roofs in the form of waterfalls. There was no place to hide, until the rain ceased he was stuck. Utterly bored he turned to look into the window of the store, in front of which he was standing.

Meat Pies? Abominable! What fool would put meat into a perfectly good pie? Well, I did miss breakfast and I cannot continue on in this wretched weather. But it seems that is all these dismal streets have to offer. Maybe a spot of hot tea to warm the heart and mind, this is England after all.

The decision had been made, Wonka opened the door and a mouth watering aroma found its way into his nostrils.

“Good Day, Sir” Ms. Lovett said with a toothy grin of black and decaying teeth. “What can I get ya?”

“One pasty and a cup of hot tea if you please, Ms…?” Mr. Wonka said questioningly as he shook the rain from his large black hat.

Ms. Lovett bustled behind the counter and placed a pie on a cooling plate.

“Lovett Dear, Ms. Lovett. What brings you to Fleet Street on a day such as this?”

“I’ve come all the way from America to meet with various confectioners in London. I’m searching to find a new ingredient for the filling of my latest chocolate bar. Nothing I’ve come across has been right. I need something gelatinous, something that really sticks to the roof of your mouth.”

The soft chime of a bell alerted the couple to the door being opened. A man dressed all in black with wild hair rushed in. “Nellie, I have to talk to you about…. Oh, pardon me!”

“Ah! Mr. Todd so glad you could join us. This is Mr. Wonka. He is a candy maker from America looking for a sticky filling for his new sweet treat.”

Mr. Todd raised an eyebrow and a sinister smile slid across his face. “Is that so?” he said before taking the seat opposite Mr. Wonka. “Maybe I can help with that.”

<>

What is in Mr. Wonka's chocolate bars? Only Nellie Lovett and Sweeney Todd know for sure!

Iron Bess said...

I'm feeling a bit un-creative these last couple of days. Here is a quick cross over piece. Jane Austen meets Terry Prachett.

Mrs. Eliza Bennett-Darcy sat demurely on her couch stitching her husband several new handkerchiefs and humming to herself. The house and grounds had been meticulously scrubbed, cleaned, and trimmed, a most sumptuous dinner had been ordered and prepared, the children sent to her sister Jane’s home for the week. Everything was in order and ready for her most distinguished guest, a most fastidious guest. Elizabeth smiled as she anticipated the arrival of this visitor, but then sighed. “If only Mr. Darcy was able to make it in time. Well there is no sense in becoming disconcerted about it, his arrival will be delayed and I am certain that our guest will have no objections to it,” she said aloud.

Granny’s broom had been acting up the entire trip and it was starting to get on her nerves even though she did not allow nerves to get in her way. The last shudder had been so hard to it had almost dislodged Granny from her seat and had actually caused a few strands of her iron grey hair to come undone giving her almost a tousled look. This would not do. Granny glared at her broom until she could feel it begin to get so uneasy that it pulled itself together. “Harrumph,” she said. “That’s better.” It was never a good idea to let anyone, or in this case, anything, the upper hand over a witch. It just wasn’t good for business. And it made one look sloppy. Granny abhorred sloppy. Actually that was the main reason she had been forced to make this trip from the Ramtops, sloppiness.

Eliza stood outside with her servants lined up at exactly four past the hour and watched as Granny circled the courtyard before making her landing. The old lady sat ramrod stiff on her broom her thin cloak billowing out behind her as it caught the wind. The housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, instructed one of the footman to take Granny’s case. Granny glared at him until he wilted visibly and stood looking as if he were a scolded school boy. She sniffed once then planted her scrupulously clean boots into the gravel and surveyed Pemberly while everyone waited with bated breath. “Hmm, it will do I suppose.”

Elizabeth heaved a sigh of relief then walked forward to greet the old lady.

Marc said...

Greg - glad you enjoyed it! And yes, I believe that if I'd carried on much longer there very well could have been an explosion.

Oh goodness me, those two make quite the pair! And poor Green, he just can't seem to win.

Cathryn - ah, another interesting combination. I imagine those two could have some entertaining adventures together :)

Morrigan - hmm, I fear where you might be going with that one! Fun choice of characters to combine - anything in particular inspire it?

Iron Bess - if that's what you produce while feeling uncreative, I can't wait to see what comes when the creative juices are flowing!

Definitely a fun combination. Can imagine a whole book's worth of possibilities there :)