Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
LucasArts Fiction
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
It all started the day Dad hit the roof.
I was outside, playing on Jork. Maybe I should explain here. We lived in a small house in the city, with a small backyard. There wasn't much room - hardly enough to even fit a game of cricket in, and I like cricket. If I wanted to play to cricket, I had to go to Steve's. I complained to Dad about it, but he said we couldn't afford a new house, and went back to the paper. I think he misunderstood what I said, since I said I wanted a larger lawn, not a new house. So I asked him again, and he told me to be quiet, and get ready for school.
That's how things were then.
In any case, the reason we couldn't fit a game of cricket in was because of Jork. Jork was our clothesline. Dad told me once that it was called a Hills Hoist, but I don't like that name. Jork's better. Jork stood in the centre of the back lawn, and that meant you couldn't play any ball games, not even kick to kick. Wendy (that's my sister, she's younger than me) said I shouldn't worry about it, but then she never liked outdoor sports anyway. She's more into games like chess.
So, being the imaginative kid that I am, I decided to devise a few games to play on Jork. Games that only required one player. At first, they were pretty basic, like jump-and-catch-the-clothespeg, but it wasn't long before I was moving on to such games as clothespin-bullseye and tiddlypeg. I even learned how to use Jork as a merry-go-round. It was pretty simple - all I had to do was climb on top with a long pole, and sit near the edge. Using the pole, I could then push off the ground and get Jork turning at a pretty fast pace. That day, I was just starting to get going when the phone started to ring in the kitchen. Dad walked over and picked it up.
"Hello, Hall residence," he said in a boring tone he used a lot at the time. I'll confess that I wasn't really listening - I was too engrossed in getting my speed up. It had gotten harder to do this in the past year. Guess growing up isn't all advantages. Then he said "Really?" in an interested tone, and I got curious real quick. "Uh huh," he said, and nodded - I could see this through the kitchen window, which we usually kept open.
"What is it, Dad?" I shouted to him, but he musn't have heard, because the next thing he did was yell "WHHHAAAAATT!!??" into the telephone. Like, real hard - even our next door neighbours heard, and they were inside. Myself, I was so startled I nearly fell off Jork. Dad jumped into the air, and I heard a loud bang. Then there was a softer thump, and silence.
I was worried, let me tell you. Quick as I could I jumped off Jork and ran inside. Dad was crumpled on the floor, with the telephone dangling just above the floor. My heart rose in my mouth for a moment, but then Dad opened his eyes and slowly turned his head toward me.
"Sailing?" he said.
My concern immediately returned. Dad was obviously raving. Luckily we'd learned all about first aid the semester before from Miss Platt. You had to kiss a dummy and push on its chest, and that was pretty gross, especially with all the other kids watching. But I paid special attention anyway, because you never know when you might need to save a life. Dad's looked like it needed saving now, and so I rolled him onto his side, like we were taught. As I did it, I looked at the ceiling - there was a large circular crack where his head had hit it. I winced - the dent was quite large.
"Yo, round da world?" he said softly, looking dimly at me. And if I said I was concerned before, I was really uneasy now. Dad's voice, his whole way of talking, was changed. Dad wasn't like this. He had a regular job he went to from nine to five. He wore a suit to work, at a large bank. He didn't like it when I went to the arcade, and wore corduroy jeans. The last thing on earth I expected Dad to do was act cool.
The telephone was still off the hook, with some annoying voice on the other end. I put it back on the hook.
"What are you talking about?" I said to Dad, trying to get him out of his delirium and start talking sense. But he didn't.
"We're going sailing," said Dad. "Onna boat. Round the world. Master plan." He smiled at me, and got to his feet. "Where's Wendy? Gotta tell her about this."
He left the room, leaving me pretty well speechless. And that's how it all started.