We Meet Again
Hello there, Edmonde. It's nice to see you again. Hah! Way back when, we were partners, you and I. Worked together on many, many projects for the Gist mill. You always were the smart one, toiling day and night, finding favor with management. Oh, how the tables have turned. Now it is I who stands atop the social pyramid. And down there, at the bottom, you wallow in a pile of your own filth. You should have married into royalty, Edmonde. That's what I did, and it turned my life around.
Why, I remember the first time you were promoted ahead of me. Remember that, Edmonde? Summer of '69. 1869, that is. We're both immortals here, you can say it. 1869. The end of the Civil War. Reconstruction. That contract was mine, Edmonde. You knew how hard I worked, sweet talking General Grant with visions of grandeur. You knew how many hours I put into convincing the Senate to go with us. But then you, like a spring chicken on a winter day, came in and ruined everything. I had them in my pocket, don't you understand?! The whole thing... gone. Because of you.
I don't know what came over me that night, Edmonde. But somehow, somehow I knew that you would double-cross me. That's why I gave all the money to the vicar. None of the ill-gotten gold left for you, for either of us, now. Oh, yes, my friend, fate can be ironic. Where once you were the envy of all, now stands (or, rather, crouches) before me a coward. You'll never see that, will you? Never see what you've become. Too bad. I'm telling mom.
Why, I remember the first time you were promoted ahead of me. Remember that, Edmonde? Summer of '69. 1869, that is. We're both immortals here, you can say it. 1869. The end of the Civil War. Reconstruction. That contract was mine, Edmonde. You knew how hard I worked, sweet talking General Grant with visions of grandeur. You knew how many hours I put into convincing the Senate to go with us. But then you, like a spring chicken on a winter day, came in and ruined everything. I had them in my pocket, don't you understand?! The whole thing... gone. Because of you.
I don't know what came over me that night, Edmonde. But somehow, somehow I knew that you would double-cross me. That's why I gave all the money to the vicar. None of the ill-gotten gold left for you, for either of us, now. Oh, yes, my friend, fate can be ironic. Where once you were the envy of all, now stands (or, rather, crouches) before me a coward. You'll never see that, will you? Never see what you've become. Too bad. I'm telling mom.
--The Taker of Gist | 6:03 PM
6 broke it down:
You know Edmonde is planning his pay back as we...what are we doing? Anyway, watch your back, he's had a lot of time to come up with a good plan.
Edmonde? Who is this... oh, him. Yes. I should take care, as I am the Taker.
Unless he never existed. It's an existential paradox, you know.
You're doing some amazingly strong work over here. The kind of work that leads me to believe you are in cahoots.
Does this Edmonde know of a man ... a man I call ...
McDougal?
The Lord works in mysterious ways.
Ways fueled by gist and gristle and gimps.
And what's this existential bent?
Oh yes. Edmonde is in deep, deep cahoots.
The deepest of cahoots I've ever seen.
I've been to cahoots. They make a nice chopped liver omlette.
you know Gisty you really do have a lovely smile. you should smile more often.
this picture was really quite spiritual. i never knew that orange could touch the soul...
Orange IS the soul. Although technically, electricity is the language of the soul. But orange is its eye color.
As for McDougal, I heard Edmonde drop a few names in passing. Mostly Holywood celebs. But once he answered his cell phone and I heard the distinct phrase, "Okay, MC to the D, I'll get you your Gist, but I still want a ten percent cut." Then I fired him for Gist smuggling, and never saw him again until they pulled his body out of the sewers. Covered in bitemarks.
Good thing Gist can restore the dead.
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