=><= Here is the staff of #RED VELVET LLC A Queer-Owned Home Delivery Baked Goods & Investigative Services Firm Based in New Orleans’s Seventh Ward/St. Roch region. Address provided on request. “No crime too small / no bakery order too specific” [[Ava]] | [[Kells]] [[COMMENCE THE STORY|Commence]] [[Rules]] <a href="http://twitterfictionfestival.com/archive/jeanne-thornton-story/?timezone_string=America/New_York">(more info)</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/TWFictionFest">@TWFictionFest</a> <a href="http://fictioncircus.com/Jeanne">About the Author</a> (You <a href="http://www.orbooks.com/catalog/doctor-bantam/">should buy</a> <a href="http://www.instarbooks.com/books/the-black-emerald.html">my books</a>!) =><= ###Ava <img src="ava.gif"> <== * Age: 28 * Extremely freelance web designer. * Proprietress of Red Velvet LLC, Investigative Services/Marketing/Business Operations Departments. * Blood Type: B =><= [[back|START]] =><= ###Kells <img src="kells.gif"> * Age: 26 * Unemployed. * Head Baker at Red Velvet LLC, Production Department * Blood Type: AB =><= [[back|START]]Here are the rules. * The story will be told in second person. * You will generally inhabit the psyche of [[Ava]]. Sometimes, depending on your decisions, you may end up being [[Kells]]. * At certain moments in the narrative, the author will introduce a #prompt of some kind. You can reply to the tweet containing the #prompt with your ideas for what the characters ought to do next. (<a href="http://mspaintadventures.com">Clear inspiration.</a>) * From among all the responses, one will be adopted by authorial fiat that (a) best conforms with the author's existing plans for the story or (b) seems to derail those existing plans in a logical and exciting way. EXAMPLE: <pre> @manwhohatesfun The orc swings her broadaxe at your neck! You are totally cloven @manwhohatesfun What are you going to do? #prompt2009 @someaccount this is stupid #prompt2009 @mastertherion777 parry the blow with psychic shield #prompt2009 @shotintoeternit think of dean moriarty #prompt2009 @QuestionReality this is a pathetic cry for attention. #notyourshield #prompt2009 @manwhohatesfun okay you parry the blow with psychic shield #prompt2009; thanks @mastertherion777 @manwhohatesfun BUT THE SHIELD IS BROKEN AND YOU DIE @shotintoeternit nice going @mastertherion777, you got us all killed! Hahaha jk @mastertherion777 fuck </pre> * Basically I would like you to think of this as somewhere between a choose-your-own-adventure text and a rousing game of D&D, written "on the fly" * If you're the one whose response is chosen I'll somehow tag or acknowledge you in future renditions of the story/the inevitable Storify installment. * You are encouraged to cheat or "stuff the ballot box" with your suggestions, if you feel that you have an intelligent way to do so. * At the start of the story, YOUR PARTY COLLECTIVELY HAS 3 MAGIC POINTS. These can be spent to draw major arcana tarot cards. If someone suggests drawing a tarot card and the post receives 5+ favorites or RTs, THE CARD WILL BE DRAWN, and the consequences will necessarily be accepted. * I sort of know where I want the story to go but I'm gonna write it "to order" on the spot, so um this may not be the most deathless prose of all time, gang [[okay got it back to the story|Commence]]<== [[Rules]] | [[Stats]] | [[Escape to Start Page->START]] YOU ARE AVA. It is a big day at Red Velvet LLC. You’ve got your first customer’s order on hand! Your first ever customer! For months you've been telling Kells this day would come. You barely slept last night, kept thinking of what might go wrong. What if the Entergy bill didn’t get paid, meaning that you couldn’t turn on the oven? What if you forgot what flavor she (the customer!) even ordered? You repeat: *banana cinnamon.* You say it aloud to yourself so much that Kells goes to lie on the couch. You hear her coughing down the hall. *Banana cinnamon.* You’re charging twenty bucks/cake. *Banana cinnamon.* It’ll take you a while to get word-of-mouth, but it’ll be worth it. Kells will feel happy, productive. It's been a while you guess since she's felt that way? *Banana cinnamon.* Just how long has it been? *Banana cinnamon.* You turn on the light, write it on a card, set it on yr keyboard where you’ll see it in the morning. And now it’s morning and you see it. BANANA CINNAMON. But KELLS IS NOT AWAKE. And you’re supposed to deliver this cake to this customer TODAY and SHE IS NOT BAKING A BANANA CINNAMON CAKE. You imagine termites swiftly dessicating the house, and you do not have twenty bucks to buy TERMITE REPELLENTS You face #yourfirsttacticaldecision. What should you do about this? Should you do anything? (TUTORIAL TIP: Maybe you want to wake her up, or let her sleep? Play a tune? Reply to #yourfirsttacticaldecision w/action.) [[#yourfirsttacticaldecision]] =><= CURRENT STATUS * Ava: HP 12/12 * Kells: HP 3/8 * Party MAGIC POINTS REMAINING: 0/3 * Inventory: I don't know, your wallets and bus pass and stuff probably [[back|Commence]]Okay. You decide, following @emilyhughes, to make her breakfast, then wake her. GOOD DECISIONS. You seethe as you go through the cabinets. All you have is Zatrain's and fucking beignet mix. Why did you buy this Kells has all kinds of produce in the fridge though! You get a zucchini, microwave it, and put it in a bowl for Kells You definitely sprinkle some cinnamon on that zucchini I can tell you what! Kind of an NLP thing you guess. Kells is asleep on the couch. She lies on her side with her arm in a strange cantilever position. Her weight shifts. She's slept in her glasses; one side of the frame twisted up over her temple, leaving metal corduroy lines like train tracks over her face You set the zucchini and cinnamon on the hardwood next to her and put your hand on her shoulder. She flinches, wakes. "Hi I made you breakfast. You uh know this is the morning when we have the order, right" She adjusts her glasses, turns slowly, wincing with stiffness. "The sun is burning." Voice echoes out of delta wave tunnel. "Yeah uh it's already kind of 8:45 is the thing," you tell her. "Do you want to maybe take 10m or so to like, get ready?" She looks at you, just as THE PHONE RINGS [[#ohnowhatdoyoudo]]Okay YOU TOTALLY PICK IT UP. @perotoss is right. WHAT IF IT'S THE CUSTOMER. IT PROBABLY IS. You race to get it! You pass down the hallway from the couch in the front room to your phone, plugged into a socket in the kitchen/corp office. You pick it up too late to notice that it's a bill collector. In PANIC, you hit ignore. But now that you're here by the phone, the reek of carmelized zucchini in your nose and sweat on yr touchscreen, you worry. Exactly how sure ARE you that it was banana cinnamon? Didn't you put like two other flavors on the flyers you made? There were actually a COUPLE editions of the flyer, and you maybe didn't put the same flavors on all of them? Kells is up. "Did you say something about a cake?" she asks. "Did you cook something in here? What is happening in this world" "Uh yeah do you maybe remember what flavor that customer wanted," you tell her. "Our first customer," you remind. She stares at you, and then she crosses the kitchen to fill a glass of water. Her hip jerks stiffly, mummyish Fuck. You can't remember. Should you like CALL THE CLIENT MAYBE YOU TOTALLY SHOULD RIGHT [[#yesyoushould]] Okay ADOPTING @gordonlishbot 's suggestion: use social media! Right? You are a web developer! START THINKING LIKE ONE AVA. You log into Facebook while Kells starts scrubbing violently at the microwave plate to get the caramel out. She is humming something tunelessly in the way she does. You try to listen as you briskly check follower counts on yr pages Someone has said something kind of fucked up and racist in the CHALMETTE LARP PILOT COMMISSION and you're responding You've been at it for like 30m when you remember, shit, customer! Kells is smoking on the porch now, still humming You open the window and yell. "HEY YOU SHOULD MAKE A BANANA CINNAMON CAKE BUT ALSO MAKE SOME OTHERS OKAY" "What?" she calls back, but you're already checking the customer's facebook It looks as if she's online right now! You totally chat her. "Hey," you begin She doesn't respond immediately, so you follow up, as business folks do. "Hey about the cake we're delivering today" "Was it like, bananas and cinnamon, or was it another kind of flavor?" You feel stupid. "For our records," you add She responds. "Okay, um, don't think I'm a super flake, okay" "But I kind of don't need the cake anymore?" "That's impossible," you respond, feeling sick. "It's actually QUITE possible. I can't believe I forgot to call you. I thought my partner dropped a message by?" "I didn't receive any message," you type haughtily. Or wait. [[#MAYBEYOUDIDOHNOWHATSHOULDYOUDO]]PLAY IT COOL. You type "I must have missed it. We deliver for many occasions and have lots more flavors" (thx @LegalGal33) SHE SIGNS OFF IMMEDIATELY WHAT No wait: has she signed off? Her name has disappeared! Has she blocked you? Why would she do that? She was your first customer! Her page is gone. She totally blocked you. You try to remember to breathe. FOUR PART BREATHS. Kells was teaching you that What does being blocked feel like, mapped onto the real world? Someone screaming at you in the bread aisle? BREATHE OKAY You try, in panic, to find your original purchase order. It's in your email. It IS just an email. BANANA PEANUT, also. There's definitely no email canceling this order for a BANANA PEANUT cake. Why did she think she'd left a message? You definitely gave her your address. Breathing in fours, you walk through the house. Kells's tobacco smoke wafts There's nothing by the mail slot INSIDE. You exhale. But what about the OUTSIDE, Ava? You open the door You look down at the mail slot . . . <a href="https://twitter.com/manwhohatesfun/status/598880048221917184" target=_blank>AAAAAAAAA</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/manwhohatesfun/status/598880160943865856" target=_blank>Upon closer inspection: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA</a> Your mind races: [[#WHATDOESTHISEVENMEAN]]GOOD CALL @emilyhughes. Okay. Yeah. Breathe. Kells is good at this stuff. Ask Kells. That's your business plan now, Ava Thinking about it in a HIGHLY LOGICAL AND AWARE MANNER for a couple minutes, you get an envelope & slide it under the cards That way you will disturb neither the arrangement, NOR THE FINGERPRINTS Walking very slowly, breathing, you balance the cards all the way back to the kitchen. Kells is at the sink She looks at you nervously, as if she is afraid you might yell at her. You are showing emotion again! Better cool it She relaxes; it's a signal you've worked out btw you. "Um so wait, are we baking a cake today?" she asks. "I'm so confused" "I mean we maybe can't? We don't have any bananas." She laughs, experimentally, watching your eyes "That's a problem," you agree. "But right now, we have a BIGGER PROBLEM." YOU LAY THE CARDS OUT ON THE COUNTER Kells looks at them. "They're tarot cards? Did you just draw these or something?" She points at 8 of Swords. "Whoa!" "I'm more concerned about THAT ONE," you say, pointing to the five of pentacles. "That's going to be US." "But what do YOU think it means? You're the TAROT EXPERT of Red Velvet LLC, after all!" You were hoping to kinda transmit some vitality to her, and it KINDA WORKS. She frowns, looks closely through busted frames "Bondage--anxiety--pilgrims--poverty? And I don't know--a criminal case? God? It's confusing? These are some harsh cards" You think this over. YOU HAVE A MYSTERY ON YOUR HANDS. YOU'D BETTER START INVESTIGATING IT BEFORE IT COMES LOOKING FOR YOU It's time to [[#developaninvestigativeplan]] everyoneTHE PLAN PROCEEDS. Kells wants to adopt @gordonlishbot 's plan, but YOU DO NOT ALLOW THIS TO HAPPEN. You can't let her give up on things You go looking for the Kid Detective Fingerprint Kit, per @shotintoeternit , but it's MISSING. Shit did you sell it Ava You do, however, find some USEFUL CLUES by examining the back of the card, per @LegalGal33 ! A CURIOUS SPOT OF MUD "We need to analyze this soil," you tell Kells. "Is that from like Bayou St John or something," she asks "IS IT?" you ask, sitting up straight. "I don't know?" she asks, half laughing, half hysterical You want to ask the neighbors if they've seen anyone suspicious around, but you don't know the neighbors And you kind of feel weird talking to anyone ever now that you're trans & living in the South. SAVE THAT PLAN FOR LATER. It's a much better decision to go online, where you do not have to talk to anyone IRL! You sign onto AUSTnet &lt;red_velvet_llc&gt; I need all the information you have about TAROT CARDS &lt;noi5e&gt; a/s/l * You were banned from #darkdigital You try calling the customer's phone from a hasty skype install--BUT IT IS NOT A WORKING NUMBER ANYMORE Online stalking totally hits pay dirt. Facebook is deleted, but HER TWITTER SURE ISN'T, and her email sig has all the info Kells is humming again, standing behind you, propped on the back of your chair. She believes in you so hard You imagine that she's humming a theme song for you, kind of modal and upbeat, like when the Enterprise flies by You dismiss those thoughts though. You're trying to work on not being ego-driven. THIS IS ALL ABOUT THE CASE. Okay so: her most recent tweet is from twenty minutes ago. "FUCK E," it says. "FUCK THEM," it says just below "Is E like for Emperor?" Kells asks. You nod. "I'm afraid it must be." You go to refresh the page, but suddenly THE TWITTER PAGE ISN'T FOUND. Whatever is happening is HAPPENING NOW. Kells leans closer. "Holy shit, is she deleting all her pages?" "Or someone's doing it FOR her," you say soberly "We're going to have to DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS." Kells frowns. Her eyes ask: do we really? #yeswedo [[#BUTHOWANDWHATANDWHERE]] <a href="https://twitter.com/manwhohatesfun/status/598893795900583936" target=_blank>YOU TOTALLY DRAW A TAROT CARD</a> "Is that the customer?" Kells asks. "I mean it could be because she's kinda volatile, like for example she canceled" "I think it's US," you say. "I think it's US and we need to take ACTION." You've got her address from the purchase order. It's on Moss Street. "Bayou St John," you say. "Everything fits. Let's go!" Kells looks uncomfortable. "I mean--should we go over there, actually?" she asks. "It sounds like she's having a bad time." You hold the card in front of Kells's glasses. "Do you want to be her?" you ask. "Because I want you to be her." "We can BE HER," you explain. "Together. Let's MOVE." The only correct option is the bus. Kells can't walk that far without getting tired and you only have one bike between you You are going to have to face public transportation in the South. HOW WILL YOU PREPARE. [[#gearuprolloutbuthow]] Okay so following @RKBs_Twitstery , you decide to GO FOR IT. Four part breathing. Psyche yrself. It's just the BUS. People ride them. However, you are struck by a BRAIN WAVE just before leaving, per @gordonlishbot. You fill a tote bag with beers. "Why are you doing that?" Kells asks. "Kind of uh an insurance policy," you explain. "FULL COVERAGE." What does that mean ANYWAY. You put on your most professional shirt and pinstripe slacks. You go out to the bus stop. You keep looking behind you. You get weird looks whenever you go out here, but especially with Kells. She is slow with her limp, so they have more time to see you You imagine you're the Queen of Wands, yr black cat tracing lazy pentacles around you both with her tail. You will totally protect Kells. She focuses on the sidewalk, breathing. You focus on keeping eyes away from her. The bus is pretty empty. It is a weekday and people who are less entrepreneurially savvy than you have jobs mostly. You can't get a seat together, so you stand while Kells sits next to an older cis guy. His head is stubbled white like topiary At first he smiles at Kells. Then he starts to look at her strangely. Your head swims. Does he work for E? [[#betterdosomething]]Your mind is a blank. Mechanically, you reach into your backpack and pull out one of the beers @gordonlishbot insisted you take "Do you want this," you ask the man warily Kells looks at the floor of the bus, its gumspeckled black and white linoleum like a star map only she can read Hesitating, the man takes the beer from you. "Okay. Okay. Thanks. Thank you." "No problem," you say. You can feel your theme music swelling, the memory of Kells's hum, Kells herself folded over her legs. "Listen, this is going to sound crazy," you say to the man as he drinks your beer. "But do you know anything about . . . E?" "Ava," Kells mutters. You look at her. Is she mad at you? She sounds mad. Are you doing something wrong? "I'm not offering you drugs," you quickly explain. It does not seem to enlighten him "Hey listen," he says. "Can I--can I maybe ask you a personal question?" YOU WONDER WHAT IT IS, AVA. "Y'all are transgenders, right? So like what's your opinion about Bruce Jenner" Kells kind of chokes and laughs and stares at her knees. "I--don't have one?" she says You stare at this guy. HE IS DEFINITELY WORKING FOR E. "I don't want you to have my beer anymore," you say, and try to take it back Let's cut to the chase okay: you are all thrown off the bus in pretty short order The guy tries to get his fare back from the driver, giving you and Kells ample time to duck off of Esplanade and into side streets A few blocks away, she stops. She's totally out of breath. "I need to sit down," she wheezes. #butwhatiftheguyiscoming [[#whatdoyoudo]] You go looking for a lawn chair, per @gordonlishbot , WHO IS KNOCKING EM DEAD WITH SUGGESTIONS There's a plush looking set on the lawn of a house with a crawfish mobile and gross rows of okra in the beds. You gesture to Kells She sits on the curb. "You'll feel better if you sit up here with me," you tell her. "You'll have more energy for the mystery" She doesn't answer, doesnt meet your eyes, sits slumped and looking at the wide sedimentary potholes beneath the tires of parked cars "Are you okay," you ask her from the chair. She doesn't answer. You crack a beer from the backpack. "Eventually we're going to need to get moving to the customer's house," you remind her. "She's maybe in trouble." She doesn't say anything. You scoot to the edge of the chair. "Are you okay," you ask her. "I am checking in with you. Are you fine?" "Yeah," she says after some minutes. "I just--" She trails off. You wait impatiently for her to finish her thought, but she doesn't. "Can we go home," she asks you. You stare at her. Your customer is in trouble. She saw the tarot cards just as well as you did. "I just want to sleep," she continues. "We haven't done anything yet today," you tell her. "I need to sleep," she tells you. But how will the mystery be solved that way? [[#youmulloverwhattodo]]Yes, @shotintoeternit is totally right. YOU'D BETTER DRAW ANOTHER CARD <a href="https://twitter.com/manwhohatesfun/status/598911745286103041" target=_blank>Oh no you guys</a> You stare at the card you've taken from your pack. Pamela Smith has your number, Ava, decades and decades before you were even born "Let's go home," you tell Kells. She doesn't look at you when she stands up. You're not sure if she wants to be touched at all so you don't offer to help her. She doesn't want to take the bus, either, so you walk back down Esplanade toward St. Roch and home. (You won't have to pass the corner of Ursulines and Claiborne, at least, which <a href="http://www.advocate.com/politics/transgender/2015/02/16/new-orleans-police-trans-woman-penny-proud-was-killed-robbery" target=_blank>still gives you the chills</a>.) "That lady, uh," you say to Kells as you walk, slowly, in step with her breathing and limp. "She wasn't a very good customer." She doesn't respond. "We'll have much better customers in the future," you say. "Like we'll advertise better. More flavors." "I can build us a website and put it up places. We can meet someone who can draw a flyer." Nothing "You could draw the flyer!" "I can't draw," she tells you. "I don't know why you think I can. I don't know why you think I can bake cakes or solve crimes or--" She stops; the sidewalk is tricky here. "You have to believe in Red Velvet LLC," you tell her. She doesn't respond. After some hours, you get home. You're sweating, tired out. You didn't even buy bananas. "Let's make that flyer," you suggest. She goes into the bathroom, locks the door. You hear bath water running. The cinnamon zucchini is still sitting by the couch, totally not touched. You're cleaning out the bowl when YOU GET WORRIED You knock on the bathroom door. "Hey I need to hear that you're okay in there," you say. Splashes, footsteps. She opens the door, wrapped in a towel, favoring one leg. "I'M FINE," she says furiously. "I'm ALWAYS FINE. I don't NEED YOU TO TRY TO HELP ME OKAY." [[#howdoyourespond]]<a href="https://twitter.com/manwhohatesfun/status/598915463926685697" target=_blank>You think of a lot of good things you could say or do.</a> What you say, instead, is: "I'm going to start laying out the flyer now." And then you start to cry. You sit on the floor. "Jesus Christ," Kells says. After a minute, she steps around you and walks down the hall, trailing water in her wake like a busted atomizer. She comes back with something in her hand. <a href="https://twitter.com/manwhohatesfun/status/598918922944020481" target=_blank>"Here," she says. "Go think about this or something, okay?"</a> (THE PARTY IS OUT OF MANA) You look at the card in your hand. Kells looks nervously down at you, dripping. "Is that okay," she asks warily. You don't speak. You have no money and Kells is sick and you do not know when you will have a cake order again, but this is fine. (Also, maybe your first customer was murdered by the Emperor? You aren't sure what to think about that. You may come back to it.) For right now, everything is okay. You are full of ideas, and all of them are good ones. Clearly that means you will be okay. "Thanks, gumshoe," you tell Kells softly. She bares her teeth, kind of like a laugh, and goes back to her bath, to be alone. You, however, go to the computer. [[YOU HAVE SLEUTHING TO DO.]] #endgame | You earned 103 out of 150 scores THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO PARTICIPATED Thanks to Leon Arnott & Twine 2 developers, Penguin Random House for giving me space at the Twitter Fiction Festival, Anna Anthropy for recent games that were Clear Inspirations, Homestuck, & above all those kids I met who were selling cakes out of a scummy house in St. Roch, and for whom I hope I was a better First Customer <a href="http://fictioncircus.com/Jeanne">YOU CAN BUY MY BOOKS OR SEE OTHER STUFF I DO HERE IF YOU WANT</a>