To whom it may concern

https://t.co/1CHpu3Yzyn celebrates Eric Christmas' birthday! https://t.co/PbgBmSyY4y #SciFi #Fantasy #Syfy #Actor #ThePhiladelphiaExperiment #TheAndromedaStrain #AttackOfTheKillerTomatoes #MisfitsOfScience #Probe #ALF #EerieIndiana #TheXFiles pic.twitter.com/r8bmpZqEsp

— E. Lee Zimmerman (@ELeeZimmerman) March 19, 2020

Watch out for scary garbage guys in mirrored shades, because we're about to rewatch the Lost Hour.

June 1st is World Milk Day. Let's celebrate with some fanworks themed around the Eerie Dairy, time travelling milkmen, or the tragic and totally preventable mowing down of teenaged pedestrians!

The Milkman stepped carefully among the dandelion clocks, alert to any careless movement or stray gust of wind that would scatter little white-headed bombs of frozen time out onto the breeze.

Left unattended, they might drift skywards to land on some unprotected soul, flinging them a hundred years into the past, or forward to an unknowable future, or condemn them to a year in an empty land that both was and was not Eerie Indiana.

He could see now why the Riding Mower Dads hated the weed so much that they dedicated whole Saturdays to eradicating it from their lawns.

Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Marshall scanned the contract, a jeweller's loupe close at hand should there be any suspiciously small-print sections. He stopped at the sight of one particularly long string of digits.

"What's this?" he asked. "This figure here."

The Milkman from Human Resources glanced over.

"Oh, that's your annual leave," he said.

Marshall looked again. The number was significantly longer than three hundred and sixty five, even accounting for leap years.

The Milkman from Human Resources seemed to follow his train of thought, because he elaborated:

"It accrues with every month of service. Our records indicate that you'll work here continuously with us until the age of 117, barring a short sabbatical involving inter-dimensional travel, a possible cure for lycanthropy that turns out to be a false lead, and a single very angry cactus, which was pre-authorised and therefore did not affect your holiday entitlement."

"Cactus Cat?" Marshall asked, and the Milkman from Human Resources glanced down at his notes.

"No," he said. "Aside from occasional overly-aggressive skewering of people's shins in search of scritches, the Cactus Cat lives a long and peaceable life with one Simon Holmes."

"Oh," said Marshall. "I'll be sure to let Simon know. He'll be pleased."

He looked again at the number. It was still very large, but then, 117 was very old...

"You'll use it all up shortly before your 111th birthday," said the Milkman from Human Resources. "I'd tell you this to give you the chance to ration it and avoid that outcome, but I'm afraid it's inevitable."

Marshall thought about it.

"I'm not sure I want to work my last six years without any time off," he said.

The Milkman from Human Resources turned some pages.

"It appears that you and Management come to an agreement about that," he said. "The details are confidential."

Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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https://t.co/1CHpu3Yzyn celebrates Eric Christmas' birthday! https://t.co/PbgBmSyY4y #SciFi #Fantasy #Syfy #Actor #ThePhiladelphiaExperiment #TheAndromedaStrain #AttackOfTheKillerTomatoes #MisfitsOfScience #Probe #ALF #EerieIndiana #TheXFiles pic.twitter.com/r8bmpZqEsp

— E. Lee Zimmerman (@ELeeZimmerman) March 19, 2020

That was a great episode of #EerieIndiana (The Lost Hour). I didn't even know Peter Stringfellow was in it. pic.twitter.com/uwMC8UcDai

— Dave of Androzani (@BungleSir) November 20, 2020

What was the episode where the girl got a lads heart as a donor used to like that one

— Andrew Somers (@Somersa2) November 20, 2020

'Heart on a Chain', it's a great episode. For a kids series it has some great, quirky ideas.

— Dave of Androzani (@BungleSir) November 20, 2020

That’s it really need to watch these again

— Andrew Somers (@Somersa2) November 20, 2020

They still hold up well. They should stick it on Netflix, todays kids would love it.

— Dave of Androzani (@BungleSir) November 20, 2020

Yeah not sure where I can watch it to be fair

— Andrew Somers (@Somersa2) November 20, 2020

Episode 10 of Eerie Indiana "The Lost Hour" pic.twitter.com/MlIuIN5czn

— James Gormanley (@JamesGormanley) November 8, 2020

Also, thread of what happens when the #EerieIndiana fandom watches #PennyDreadful.#theyhavethesamehair https://t.co/DaT3oZj3rG

— 🧟‍♂️ Undead Rebel Scum 🏳️‍🌈 (@deifire) August 25, 2020

Now somebody needs to do the Dorian-is-Marshall-Teller's ancestor one.

— 🧟‍♂️ Undead Rebel Scum 🏳️‍🌈 (@deifire) August 24, 2020

alternatively dorian is marshall teller and he got deaged in some weird magic funkyness

— William Arthur (@Wart_M) August 24, 2020

Would make sense. Falls in a twisted relationship with the first weird Frankenstein creature he meets and all.

— 🧟‍♂️ Undead Rebel Scum 🏳️‍🌈 (@deifire) August 24, 2020

stop giving me fic ideas!!! i have too many going at once

— William Arthur (@Wart_M) August 24, 2020

"So," she said, once she was back in her seat with a sufficiently-doctored drink in front of her. "What am I doing here?"

"I'm not entirely sure," the Milkman confessed. "This is my sixty-seventh-and-a-half go 'round and I can't tell if I'm trapped in a time-loop and pulling you in or if it's the other way around. For all I know, it might even be something else entirely."

Janet thought about this, one hand absently tapping a long column of ash away from a cigarette that had burned all the way down much faster than it should.

"Hmm," she said.


Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: Janet

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One of the good things about the abandoned realities, Janet reflected, was the way entropy just... stopped working.

The unopened bag of Dark Gods' Darkest Roast Ground Coffee was as fresh as if it had been stored in ForeverWare, the water from the tap in he kitchen ran cold and clear, and the packet of filters were white, crisp and untroubled by dust despite having sat on the shelf for Corn-knew how long.

"Thanks," said the Milkman, as she slid a mug across the spotless tabletop towards him. "There's milk and stuff in the back of the truck, if you want."


Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: Janet

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Janet lit up, pausing for a moment to savour the taste of tobacco and nicotine while she inspected the latest (relatively speaking) version of Marshall.

He was old, but not as old as he'd been the first (second?) time she'd met him as the Milkman. Older than her parents and most of the teachers at school. Somewhere around Mister Radford's age, or at least around the age that Radford presented himself as.

"You'll only get a headache," the Milkman warned her. "One of the other you's even passed out trying to work it out. Gave herself a nosebleed and concussion."


Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: Janet

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"It's been a while," said a voice behind her, and Janet shrieked and whirled, her fingers catching the crisp linen of the shroud and pulling it loose behind her.

The Milkman held up liver-spotted hands in a gesture of apology she recognised from his regular-time counterpart.

"Sorry!" he said. "Sorry! Didn't mean to startle you."

Janet bent over, breathing deeply as she fought both the pounding of her much-abused heart and the urge to go over there and smack him.

"Marshall," she gasped eventually. "Whichever iteration you're from, please tell the rest of yourselves to never, ever do that again."


Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: Janet

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The second hand was the hardest. Finger-painting something that thin and fine, in oily prison crud, on bare skin, might have been manageable for Sara Sue, or even Syndi, but it was definitely beyond Marshall.

He picked up the sharp-edged rock, dragged it along the greasy build-up on the wall, and gritted his teeth as he pressed the jagged makeshift nib along his arm. It left a trail of black ooze and a thin white line that quickly welled with droplets of red.

Marshall pocketed the stone, stared at the crude drawing of a wristwatch.

The second hand moved, slightly.


Ongoing Verse: Pay Attention

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Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

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Perhaps it was his frantically-racing mind playing tricks on him, perhaps it was just his eyes adjusting to the windowless gloom of the tiny cell, but Marshall could almost swear that next to the calendar was the outline of a door.

Painfully, he raised himself up to a crouch and, one wary eye on the darkened room beyond the bars of his cage, he shuffled over to examine the faint chalk smudges that formed a tall rectangle on the bare breezeblock walls.

The room's previous occupant had signed her work, and despite his situation, Marshall laughed when he saw it.

Ongoing Verse: Pay Attention

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Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

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"Gross," muttered Marshall, trying to wipe his begrimed hands off on his t-shirt and succeeding only in smearing the mess around even more.

He looked down at his blackened palms, feeling the panic rise and trying to push it back down.

It wasn't that bad. Simon would be missing him by now. He'd get help. People would come for him.

But the Unkind Ones had tried, hadn't they? He'd seen the flames rising over their clubhouse, thick black smoke and choking fumes like a thousand tyre fires. Even if enough of them had survived to mount a counter-attack, they were effectively out of commission for the time being.

Time. The Dairy. The Dairy would... well, the Dairy would consult the Great Cow of the Cosmos and if causality demanded he be lost, then they'd shrug their white-coated shoulders and resign themselves to plucking a different Marshall Teller out of his home reality and starting all over again.

Radford would miss him, of course, but he'd been firmer about his policy of non-interference since his stock room turned into a hollow-backed Hollywood set and he'd had to pay for an extensive and inexplicable refurbishment, not to mention replacing all his supplies.

Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

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Jajaj es que estaba tan aburrida que me puse a ver escalofrios y eerie indiana jaja si, esos estan buenisimos. Agrego sonrie y muere, el de la camara siniestra.

— delfina from outer space (@delfinaplissken) May 20, 2020

Henry indeana tenia un capitulo de un lechero maligno ,que lo hacia el hermano deforme de ron haward ?o la estoy flasheando

— MATIENSO 2 (@Metienso2) May 20, 2020

pic.twitter.com/RU7KcdSIGD

— delfina from outer space (@delfinaplissken) May 20, 2020

The Milkman dragged himself up the last of the six hundred and sixty six steps leading to the tallest point of the tallest tower in Eerie, and stopped.

He leaned against the warped and rotting door frame, breathing hard, willing his heart to return to it's normal rhythm. He wasn't as young as he was, or as he would be again, and he hadn't expected to make this climb today. He'd not had to make it in any of the previous iterations, but then, maybe that's where it had gone wrong.

The thirteen clocks of the bell-tower began to chime.

Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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I just completed a meeting with a client who had a giant Swatch Wall Clock from the '80s hanging up in their house and it's awakened a deep and insatiable desire which I thought had been buried forever...

— Colin J McCracken (@ColinJMcCracken) April 16, 2020

Marshall set the over-filled coffee mug down, spilling a little as he did so. Simon, glancing up from the textbook open in front of him, shot him a quick smile that rapidly transformed into a concerned frown.

"Mars?" he asked. "You okay? You look..." he searched for a tactful phrasing and settled on "Not... okay?"

Marshall groaned, pressing the heels of his hands into eyes ringed by dark circles.

"Present me hates past me," he said. "Past me is an idiot."

Simon paused.

"Past You in the sense that you stayed up too late last night and now you're paying for it, or Past You like the Milkman showed up with some nightmarish tale of temporal distortion caused by you knocking over a glass of orange juice when you were thirteen?"

Marshall blinked.

"I'm asking if I need to go get the Time Canoe out of storage," said Simon. "If the space-time continuum is in danger of collapsing, I'd like us all to be wearing life jackets when it does."

"Oh," said Marshall, as understanding dawned like a very tired sun. "No, it's just a late night. Cursed study aides, I fell down a jackalope hole. The time stream's fine."

Ongoing Verse: Microwave

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Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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"Idiots," said Farmer Ephraim Chambers, and spat. "Stupid, selfish idiots."

The Milkman switched the ice-pack to his other eye and winced.

"They're scared," he said, which was true, though it wouldn't make his bruises heal faster. "Scared people do stupid things some timelines."

"Times, I mean," he corrected hastily, as the old man shot him a knowing look beneath his battered straw hat.

"They're panicking over milk," said the farmer. "As though this place didn't have it's own dairy. The cows almost outnumber the people."

The Milkman looked over the bloodied corpses littering the field.

"They do now," he said.

Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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