What’s new?
Imaginary things, mostly. If and when I’ve figured out a way to tell you, it’ll probably go on sale as a book.
How’s your book going?
Which one? A few have crossed the divide into publishing territory, and I’ve always got something in [various stages of] the works. Everything seems to be going reasonably well, though – maybe even unreasonably well, depending on who you ask and whether or not they believe I’m a cyborg. If you’re asking how book sales are going, that depends. Have you bought them?
Where can I get your books?
Here!
Which way to the privies?
This answer changes depending on where in the Renaissance Faire I’m standing.
Would you like a receipt?
Um, sure.
What’s wrong?
Not necessarily anything. My face just doesn’t have a particularly jolly “at rest” position. Even the closed-lips version of my smile turns my mouth’s corners down. That said, it could be I’m fuming about something. Check my vocal tone; do I sound like I’m holding back from rage-flipping this table over? No? Then we may be good.
Gimme a shirt.
That’s not a question, little sister. Are you in want of any of my shirts in particular, or…?
Are you still in school?
Nope. Grabbed my two-year degree and got out. Institutionalized learning is not a prerequisite for the trail I’m blazing, so I’m putting my time to more personally productive use. …in between frittering it away on the internet.
Wait, you’re how old?
About 5 years older than I look, apparently.
Are you/your sisters still dancing/working at that school library/playing piano/violin?
For the most part, no, not for years. You’re invited to associate us with something else now. Me, for instance – I’ve got some books coming out…
Hey, Danielle, can we [do this ridiculous thing that no normal brain would ever come up with]?
No, Will Scarlet, absolutely not.
Oh, c’mon! Please?
No.
What if we–
Stop.
What the heck is the matter with you?
I don’t know, Self. Be nice to me. …you. …us. Stop babbling and go do something productive.
What do you MEAN you haven’t read [insert book everyone else has read here]?! Read it now!
I either haven’t gotten around to it or don’t plan to. There are more books in the world than there is time to read them. My eclectic taste in books and yours may not share a lot of overlap, and the more you yell insistently that I read THE BEST BOOK EVER, the less I’ll be inclined to, because I’m allergic to pushy hyperbole.
Why you gotta use such big words all the time?
I use the words I know, same as you.
Um, hi. It’s yourself again. Are you planning to get some lunch soon?
You mean I have to eat twice in a day? Who’s got time for that?!
Did you mean […]?
No, search engine! I know what I meant, and that’s what I typed! Now give me some relevant search results!
You’ve seen [insert geeky TV show here], right?
Sadly (and this is not sarcasm; I am truly sad about this), I don’t have a clone of myself who can catch up on all interesting-looking shows while I do all the other things that I’ve given higher priority. Clones and teleportation: Get on it, somebody!
What’s on your mind?
Don’t even go there, Facebook. You couldn’t handle the truth.
Um. So this is the best thing ever (pushy hyperbole? Yeah? Yeeeeah? …sorry.).
Hyperbole, yes. But as you refrained from all caps and exclamation points (*cough* and since you made my ego happy *cough*), we’ll let it pass without censure.