Jun. 15th, 2020

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Recruitment Drive (2309 words) by miss_nettles_wife
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Eerie Indiana
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Janet Donner, OFC
Additional Tags: Recruitment, Future Fic, Post canon

Summary:

An agency has taken interest in Janet Donner.


...I thought maybe I would expand on my Janet as a secret agent idea, lmao. Yes, Agent O'Brien is meant to be Mattie O'Brien from The Doctor Blake Mysteries but that's more of an easter egg than an actual fic element. 
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I used to love these two shows. I was around 7 when they came out but they were different to than the usual teen comedy genre. More surrealistic. It’s a shame that neither lasted a longtime. Parker Lewis has a decent run But Eerie Indiana Only aired 19 episodes I think. I know the kid who was the main character in that went on to be in one of my favorite 90s movies Matinee directed by Joe Dante. Anyway two great cult shows

I rewatched Eerie, Indiana last year on Amazon Prime. Held up pretty well to me. I miss these type of shows.

Muroid: They keep the episodes stored in Foreverware.


DesperatePleasure: Loved both of these shows. With Erie, one episode a girl with a hear transplant or something. I think she was in Roseanne for a bit. First TV crush or the moment I hit puberty cause my chest felt like it was gonna explode.

Duckstomp: For some reason I remember there was a scene in Parker Lewis with a banner in the background that says, "thanks for not watching Eerie Indiana" or something similar.

vman_isyourhero: Dude from Eerie Indiana is the main in Hocus Pocus and now he's a weed man.

NoPastaForGrandma: For any eerie Indiana fans, I highly recommend Gravity Falls. Because it’s an animated Disney show aimed at kids I would never have watched it if it weren’t for countless praises by adult critics as suitable for adults. Then I read an interview with the creator who literally said that he loved Eerie Indiana as a kid and that you can’t pitch a show as “basically this show I like a lot that got cancelled too soon but new” but that’s essentially what it is.

Same general vibe, but even better: funnier and an overarcing plot throughout the series. Worth checking out if you have fond memories of Eerie Indiana.


SANTOSHiHoHiHoHiHo: Haven't seen Parker Lewis since the 90's. Eerie Indiana is still great.

TheColorWolf: That corn episode of eerie gave me nightmares. I love it.

ChrisTosi: Didn't Eerie, Indiana come out a couple of years after Parker Lewis?

80sBadGuy: There was a period of time I considered Eerie, Indiana the best show on television.

And that period is now!
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The bloated and blue-tinged corpses danced on the ends of thick and fleshy tentacles, decaying flesh sloughing from exposed bone as the thing that wore their dead faces worked their water-logged bodies like glove-puppets.

It wasn't the worst puppet show Janet had ever seen, but it was probably in the top ten for that particular year.

"That's gross," she said, finishing one cigarette and immediately lighting another, as much to mask the drowned-tourist smell as anything.

Lifeless jaws worked mindlessly, lake water spilling over rotting lips and loosening teeth.

Janet shook her head.

"You're not luring anyone with this mess."

Ongoing Verse: Janet

Read more... )
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The swollen and awful things gazed at her with milky, unseeing eyes, slack faces pulled into rictus-like mockeries of reproach.

One of them had evidently lain too long at the bottom of the lake to withstand such rough treatment, and it's jaw fell off, hitting the water a dozen feet below it with a slap that echoed across the little inlet where the Sushi Bar lay.

There followed a long and awkward pause, where the monster animating the dead summer people tried to pretend that hadn't happened, and Janet tried not to laugh.

"Maybe you could workshop it?" she suggested.

Ongoing Verse: Janet

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Again, one of the drowned humans tried to speak, but Janet held up her hand.

"Stop," she said. "One, I can't really understand you when you use dead bodies as a mouthpiece; everything you say comes out garbled."

She paused, waiting to see if the thing in the lake would react, but the ghastly handpuppets (tentacle-puppets?) simply hung there, silent and slimy and dripping.

"Secondly, nobody in the hospitality industry is going to be tempted into deep water by customers demanding they come over and serve them."

The nearest corpse-glove nodded slightly.

"And thirdly, you should really consider a glamour."

Ongoing Verse: Janet

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Her second cigarette was almost gone.

Janet checked the double set of watches adorning each wrist - the Old Gods that owned the Sushi Bar may have long ago outgrown such concepts as time and space, but they allowed their employees to use it in order to make doing the rota easier - and sighed.

"I need to get back and set up for the King Tide," she said. "You can pay my consulting fee in American dollars or sunken treasure. I don't take Sea Witch wishes anymore."

The smallest corpse gurgled a phlegmy inquiry. Janet scowled.

"I don't do free samples."

Ongoing Verse: Janet

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Janet stood, carefully extinguishing the glowing remnants of her cigarette in the overflowing ashcan at the end of the pier.

A maki roll, grown almost to adult length but not yet old enough to split into it's eight separate segments, reached out to grab it and she gently pushed it away.

"It's a disgusting habit," she told the young sushi. "Expensive, too. Trust me, better never to start."

The maki, yellow-tail and cucumber, narrowed eyes of black sesame at her. Janet smiled ruefully.

"How about a nice aerosolised wasabi spritz instead?" she suggested, herding it back onto the serving platter.

Ongoing Verse: Janet

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Dash mistakes it for a zombie, at first. Papery yellow skin, features sagging with fading grey lines, it stumbles out of the shelter of a nearby awning and reaches for them with dry and rustling hands that are already losing definition in the drizzling rain.

Dash shouts, more an exclamation of surprise than any coherent attempt at a warning, and staggers back. At his side, Harley gasps and recoils, pressing against the damp brickwork of the abandoned house.

Sara Sue steps forward, and her face is sad and her eyes are brimming.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, and the Nanny crumples.

Ongoing Verse: Pay Attention

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It's not quite a Viking funeral - for all his muscle and mass, he's still a triple-folded sheet of A4 in the end and that means his body would burn up too quickly to suit the solemnity of the occasion - but it's not a bad approximation, either.

Sara Sue sketches a shallow-bottomed row boat, the benches missing, and after she's signed it into reality the three of them line it with moss gathered from the scrubland that surrounds the lake. She unfolds the rumpled sketch of the Nanny and smoothes the brittle paper over the soft, damp green.

Dash hadn't known Harley before the disappearances at the lake and his own long, dark years trapped in the cell beneath City Hall, and the quiet, slightly lost shadow left behind in Simon's absence doesn't bear much resemblance to the stories he'd heard back then. Still, he thinks he sees a glimmer of it when Harley shows up twenty minutes before Arnold's send-off with a crate of illegal fireworks and an honour guard courtesy of the Unkind Ones.

They slide the paper-light boat out onto the dark blue water, and when the gentle swell has carried it a little distance from the shore, the three of them shoot rockets at it until it catches fire, orange-white flames curling up to mingle with multi-coloured explosions that light up the night sky and reflect in the waves below.

The Unkind Ones stand with heads bowed and hands clasped, and Billy Millions doesn't answer when Dash presses him on exactly how Eerie's most notorious biker gang came to know the Haversock's mail-order nanny. Harley shrieks with laughter at some of the bigger explosions, and again Dash wonders about that six year old who could bite through reality, and how hard reality must have bitten back once Simon was gone.

Sara Sue selects a roman candle that's thicker around than she is, lining it up with the drifting, half-melted boat with the same carefully calculated precision that he's seen her apply to everything, from drawings designed to leave municipal buildings in screaming heaps of meat and rubble to the exact amount of whipped cream required to make a perfect sundae.

It bursts with a thousand cascading explosions of green and pink and blue, and the shrill whistle as it goes off is magnified tenfold by the empty space around them. As the last traces of Nanny Arnold are obliterated in alternating flashes of light and dark, Sara Sue's eyes are wide and wet, and she drinks in the final death of her oldest creation.

Ongoing Verse: Pay Attention

Read more... )

Ongoing Verse: Holmes Brothers

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The old cathedral-style radio had come with them from the Secret Spot, to their first apartment where sirens sang on the floor above them and the ceiling was always wet, to the house where the bricked-up bones of the previous tenant could never rest until the landlord returned it's security deposit, and finally to the tiny kitchenette adjoining their tiny office suite.

Marshall twisted the dial, more out of habit than any real expectation that he could stop the stream of big band music that crackled from the speakers.

"Congratulations," said the announcer, in that strange half-strangled 1940s radio voice.


Ongoing Verse: Microwave

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The angel-hair pasta had gone wrong, and the scaled and scowling head of a Medusa now glowered up at Tod from beneath the roiling surface of the lightly-salted water, snake-like tendrils of tagliatelle writhing in the depths of the saucepan.

He squeaked and darted back, then froze as he waited for the stony touch of death.

At the range next to him, Janet and the two dozen moray eels wearing a human skin-suit exchanged a worried look - or rather, the two eels poking out of the empty eyesockets of their unconvincing disguise and Janet exchanged a look - and hurried over.

Ongoing Verse: Janet

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"You and snakes and Italian food, Tod," Janet said, shaking her head in wonderment. "What's up with that?"

The eels handed her a bottle of olive oil and she shook it vigorously over the monster-infested waters before picking up a spatula.

Tod, who despite knowing it would make for unflattering statuary, had scrunched his face up in preparation for his gravelly demise, opened one eye.

"Wait," he said. "Why am I not granite?"

"Refraction," said one of the morays, a large gold-and-green mottled specimen currently inhabiting the skinsuit's mouth.

Janet poked the tangled pasta-lump with the spatula, separating the strands.

Ongoing Verse: Janet

Read more... )
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