affame_le_geant_paperwork fyn gula (been away for a bit, but back now, sorry for the delay...where were we? gattox? oh yes. meeterskeeter is willing to be transposed as a hungry giant.) "give it to me then," meeterskeeter said, "everything i want." he spread his arms wide and a blast of air from mlle. bisquit-kneider's fan hit him square in the face, blowing his cape out like a superhero from a king-syndicate comic. he, of course, was talking about being transposed with a hungry giant to escape the loss of his ninth and final life. "fill out these papers," she said handing him several contract-looking forms. meeterskeeter's eyes were swimming. "what the fuck are these?" meeterskeeter yelled, incredulous. mlle. bisquit freaked. transposition was one of those snobby activities that, though they were not rare, they were exclusive usually to the upper crust. to have meeterskeeter react like this could not be tolerated. "get out of here, you ingrate," she said, throwing her vase of cyclamen against the wall. "i'm trying to help you and you speak to me as if you're priviledged. hmmmmmmph! go get killed like you are supposed to. eaaaaaak! shoo fly you bother me!" meeterskeeter's heart sank. "i'm sorry," he said, falling to his knees. "i'm just excited, scared, confused, you know, all those emotions when one nearly dies and then has the opportunity to have a new life as a totally different creature," he rattled. he put his glasses on and started filling out the papers. "alright then," mlle. bisquit-kneider said. "apology is like a marox pass. it will get you in to places where doors are usually locked." she snapped meeterskeeter's foto and would make it into a pass to be worn around the neck. "after you're done here you will have to go down to the preparation house." "what's that?" meeterskeeter asked, looking up from his papers. with the glasses, he looked like tom ripley. "it's where you get prepped for transposition," she said, cleaning up the mess she made on the floor, with the broken glass and water and all. "like what will i have to do?" he asked, looking at the cyclamens, wondering if they would live. mlle. bisquit-kneider snickered and shook her head like one that remembers something wickedly funny. "you'll see, " she said, laughing. 011216 what's it to you? who go blather from