A Made-Up Friend To An Imaginary Character, Named Fred

So, in the recent past Ashley was outside Julie's place and saw a possible murder weponweapon. It clearly has finger prints on it. So she picked up with her coat and took it inside where it is now in a plastic baggy labled possible murder weapon hanging on Julie's wall. It rocks.

Also, that night we saw a possible bank robbery.

Went to a Candle Light Party yesterday. It got a votive holder thingy. It's pretty.

I feel slightly weird.
Let me explain.
Usually at least once a week (usually on Sundays) me, Julie, and Ashely go eat at a Chinese Buffet. Yesterday was Sunday. We didn't eat there. Instead we ate Fancy Macoroni n' Cheese on Julie's Fancy plates. And prevously we had ate Julie's Fancy food on her Fancy plates and in the future I think I'll be making Fancy French Toast and we'll eat them on her Fancy Plates.
Coz we're Fancy.

Torchwood Icons!








On another note, I got three Torchwood Novels today.
The Twilight Streets, Pack Animals and Almost Perfect.
I've had them for a few hours now and as I've read all of The Twilights Streets (yes, it was good) I shall share my favorite parts of it. (When I get of the computer, I am starting Pack Animals and then you guessed it, I'll start Almost Perfect).

Jack waved him to a seat. ‘Now then, I have to go away for a few days. And yes,' he looked at Gwen, anticipating her next question, ‘I will have my mobile on me at all times. And no, I’m not disappearing to the far ends of the Earth. I just need. . .some leave.’
Owen shrugged. ‘Cool. Take Ianto with you.’
‘Why?’
‘I want to take the SUV out for a spin, off-road, really ramp up the gears and speed and get it caked in mud.’
‘Why,’ Ianto repeated, ‘would you want to do that?’
‘Because,’ Owen leaned in conspiratorially, ‘it’d piss you off and I couldn’t bear to do that if you were around. Even I’m not that cruel.’
‘OK guys,’ Jack said quickly. ‘Overlooking Owen’s testosterone-inspired madness - remember what happened last time, Owen?’
Ianto looked straight at Jack. Then Owen. ‘Last time? There’s been a “last time”?’
‘Couple of last times,’ Owen replied.
‘I was glad you weren’t around,’ Toshiko added. ‘It was very. . .muddy.’
‘Muddy?’
Gwen touched Ianto’s arm gently. ‘I think they told you it was alien slime from a meteor crash. But it wasn’t.’
‘No,’ Ianto said darkly. ‘It was just mud.’
‘And you scraped it off beautifully, and gave it to me to test,’ Toshiko added.
‘And she did all those tests, trying to find Cortellian nucleotides.’ Owen grabbed Ianto’s unmoving arm. ‘Sorry mate, but it was dead funny at the time.’
Toshiko fiddled with her glasses, so as not to catch Ianto’s eye. ‘Sorry Ianto. We didn’t know when to stop. But was very. . .well, yes, funny.;
Ianto nodded, staring at his team. His friends. And smiled - inwardly.
Revenge would be so sweet. . .
(((then later)))
Ianto looked at the other two, ‘So. The SUV. Mud. Not Cortellian biomass?’
Toshiko pointed at Owen. ‘it was his idea. All of it. His. Not mine.’
Owen gazed back at Ianto. ‘Me? Come on mate, what do I know about alien DNA. . .I mean, I. . .Nah, that’s never going to work is it?’
Ianto shook his head slowly. And then grinned. ‘Never mind. Good joke.’ And he got up, straightened his perfectly straight tie again and wandered out othe room, hovering outside the door just long enough to hear Toshiko ask Owen:
‘What did he mean? “Never mind”? Owen?’
‘Dunno, Tosh,’ said Owen quietly, ‘but I’d watch the coffee for a bit.’
Ianto grinned as he walked away. Coffee? Oh he had a better imagination than that. . . And they knew it. And would be thinking about it all the time. Everything they ate or drank. Every bit of equipment he got for them. Everything. Oh the next few days were going to be fun.
Even without Jack.

Jack snorted. ‘Ever tried emailing an image to Archie? Either it bounces back, or he pressed the wrong button and it ends up on the front page of Glasgow Herald.’
‘Oh, that’s where that Loch Ness Monster story came from. I thought they were a bit close to the truth,’ Ianto said.
‘Loch Ness Monster? Do I want to know?’ Gwen asked.
‘Some kind of dinosaur, apparently,’ said Owen, walking towards them with a PDA. ‘Never believed that myself. Dinosaurs, God, whatever next?’
‘We have a pterodactyl!’ Gwen said, pointing upwards.
‘Pteranodon, actually,’ corrected Ianto. ‘But Pterodactyl does sound sexier.’

. . .although she was gratified to learn when they were at uni that he wasn‘t a great fan of Abba, since men at uni who were Abba fans tended not to be interested in Gwen. Or women generally. ‘Do you like Abba?’ She found herself asking Ianto. As non sequiturs went, it was a good one.
He looked at her. ‘Is this going to lead to a “Jack” conversation?’
‘No.’
‘Fine. Then I admire the Andersson/Ulvaeus writing partnership as craftsmen and songsmiths. I believe “One of Us” may be the best song written about relationship break-ups ever, and I have a soft spot for the fusion of witty lyrical content and poptastic dance ability of “Voulez-Vous”, but let me make this absolutely clear: I bloody loathe “Dancing Queen”. All right?’
Gwen stopped walking and just looked at him.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘You’ve had this conversation before, haven’t you?’
‘Might have.’
‘Jack?’
‘You honestly think Jack knows anything about music after 1948?’
‘Who then?’
‘Doesn’t’ matter.’
‘Who?’ She started walking again. ‘Come on. I might die tonight, never knowing.’
‘Me mam.’
‘Aww. When she found out about Jack?’
‘When I was fourteen.’
Gwen stopped again. ‘I dunno which scares me more - that your mam worked you out ten years before you did, or that the fourteen-year-old Ianto Jones used the phrase “poptastic dance ability” without getting beaten up.’
Ianto stopped Suddenly. ‘She didn’t work me out, Gwen. No one has. And if I ever do, I’ll let you know.’
Gwen smiled, nudged his arm. “Oh come on, smile. Lisa, Jack. . .being bisexual is hardly a crime. Best of both worlds, isn’t it?’
And Ianto pushed her away. ‘No, Gwen. No, really it’s bloody not. It’s the worst of any world because you don’t really belong anywhere, because you are never sure of yourself or those around you. You can’t trust in anyone, their motives or their intentions. And because of that, you have, in a world that likes it’s nice and shiny labels, no true identity. For Torchwood’s “Little Miss Sensitive”, you don’t half talk crap sometimes. So do me a favour and shut up about it, alright?’

He tapped his ear, activating the almost invisible communications device everyone in Torchwood wore. ‘Owen?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Whatcha doing?’
‘Testing your blood for those chronon particles you asked about. Whatever they are. I mean, I know what they are, theoretically, but forgive me for being a doctor - and a bloody good one at that - but I like to work with realities rather than fantasy.’
‘You wound me, Owen,’ laughed Jack. ‘What am I if not your fantasy?’
‘A right pain in the arse, Jack, that’s what you are. And I don’t mean that in a way you’d find charming, before you ask.’

‘How bloody primitive is this,’ Jack muttered. ‘A hundred years of alien tech, and looks like Ianto jump-starting the SUV.’
‘Oi, the SUB never needs jump-starting,’ Ianto retorted.
Jack grinned. ‘I just have an imagine in my head of you with jump leads and pole. I was saying the SUV to save Gwen’s blushes.’

‘I really, really hate heights, me,’ Gwen said.
‘You should go on a date with him,’ Ianto said, jerking a thumb in Jack’s direction. ‘To him, up on a place like this, that’s a great night out. But when I suggested a roller-coaster once, oh no, that was a death-trap apparently.’

He sighed. ‘Let’s get back home. We’ve a box to bury in concrete.’
‘You mean, I have a box to bury in concrete,’ Ianto moaned.
‘Well, I’m sure we’ll help you bury it,’ said Gwen.
‘But mixing concrete?’ asked Jack. ‘Not these hands.’
‘Nor mine,’ added Gwen, linking her arm through both Jack and Ianto’s as they began to walk towards Grangetown and then onto Cardiff Bay. ‘And I’m sure Owen and Tosh will find better things to do. . .’

Until Next Time