Universally Yours, The Phoenix

By Laura Jean Lysander

       3rd Expanded Edition~ What if...you just woke up in a stark, strange place, and then like a slap in the face find out that your entire life was just a huge, masqueraded lie? That you weren't whom you thought you were at all? Jonathan Gold did. He was just a humorous, happy-go-lucky athletically gifted, warm-hearted almost graduated Senior in High school...thought he had it made for his college future; a decorated football and martial artist sportsman, class of 1982 with fabulous football scholarships to choose from and maybe a job at his gym/Dojo...it seemed ridiculous, how could he be shanghaied, subdued, shafted from his bedroom in the mid of night, then waking up in a flopping fog to a husky, hulking kidnapper named Bruce and his lovely cohort, a lady doctor, Sheila. Was it just some undercover mixup? It gets even stranger, as they experiment on him and throw him together with the also kidnapped and valorously vain gal Selene, with such beautiful violet-hued eyes, platinum hair, super-goddess bod, an incredible physical beauty; the same traits Jon also had. It all takes an even more bizarre and even cosmic turn when things go haywire wrong with a shocking experiment Jon is compelled to endure, and they are all forced to take a very far away trip, way across the galaxy. Jon wakes up again...on a different planet, with a funky piece of jewelry on his neck which seems to come with a hysterical soundtrack and lyrics, as well as immensely aviary universal intelligence and mystic, wild, defensive abilities synchronized with Jon's body and soul; a legendary sought-after artifact that everyone who knows about it would...kill for, no matter what. So Jon's new life, new name, newfound ancestral family, and the civilization of so many others who rely on its power and protection to his dismay are now thrown into urgent, violent danger, and possibly all of Earth as well. There may be only possibly one never thought of and well-hidden, helpful ally, within the chattery poetic talking flowery blooms? How could they possibly help him? Jon's in for the flight of his life if he can glide through it and save them all. Swoop in and find out! Will Jon lay an egg, or soar to hero's heights? Read on to find out…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lysander's Literaries
• Release date: Jun 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393652557

Book preview

A  superhero  sci-fi  adventure

By  Laura Jean Lysander

Dedicated to the immortal

Stan Lee,

Who gave me the inspiration

To believe;

To Create;

To hope and dream

The superhero(s)

Within me,

Within all~

PROLOGUE

Iwas finally waking up, my head as heavy as loaded lead, still zonked with the knock-out drug-up they must have doused me with. I had never been knocked unconscious before, ever.   Not purposely or without nodding off myself, and I knew that it sure wasn’t me who instigated this, and it left me with a sense of incompetence, of deep, foreign helplessness and embarrassment never experienced, and never again wished to; The balcony...my balcony bedroom doors. They must have gotten in from there , and for someone with tons of shining trophies to brag about, you’d think I’d be smart enough, to just remember to close the terrace door and lock it; dang dum-dumb I was. Then again, I’ve never been... hijacked. Who would think of even wanting to do it to me? My family was no big deal, they were comfortable but nothing fancy, nor was I. At least... I didn’t think so. I never had to lock or even close that terrace door, it was quite a ways up in the apartment building. How could they scale it to... I just kept questioning... why? I didn’t have any enemies, any real nefarious nemesis. It must have been a really big switcheroo mistake on their part and someone would be fired for it, and then dump me off somewhere when they find out the grievous error.

I was really groggy, way out of it, and I vainly tried to remember, to replay the events back to that night before-it was at night? Was it? I could hardly make sense of my jumble of boggy thoughts. Oh yeah, ok, yeah it was, it must have been. My brain was so foggy and funky I could barely recollect, make sure of everything that had happened if it even had happened. Did it happen? This drug-induced amnesia better wear off soon. I was in flat-out denial, way in. Well, it got you here and like this didn’t it sucker so yeah it did, mate. It did happen. Deal with it, dork. Something or someone was clever enough to trump you.

Right now it was all a haze, a wild, woozy haze, like everything else in front of me, but it was coming back, and I was still in simple disconcerted disbelief that it actually happened, to ME. I do remember before I had gone home, the last place besides returning to the apartment was being at the training center gym... my coach called it his ‘Dojo’,  that memory flashed up into my mind clear as day...

C’mon Eighth wonder to the Max, bring it on! Ha ha! You better live up to your hype bro, show me whatcha got! My good buddy football friend Big Doug goaded me, his huge spongy Afro glistening with sweat under the hot gym lights. He refused to trim it and said it gave him good luck. He had to go up a size in his football helmet because of it.

He was leaning against the boxing arena ropes, crooking his chubby sausage finger my way, daring me, his golden satin shorts and skimpy matching tank top shining in the light. I held back my laughter as much as I possibly could, but the rest of the gang let it rip. His taste in threads and fashion of the early 1980s was just as glitzy as he was. And he of us all was the most fashionably well-dressed, so that tells you something. He never stepped out looking less than supreme, enough to turn heads, and, they did.  He said, Once you get a taste of Dark chocolate Doug you were drugged. Hysterical. My workout football buddies were all here today, trying to mess with my concentration. Big Doug was one huge wrestling nightmare, but he and it was one of the best training practices for me.

If I could actually concentrate with him looking like that in front of me, in the glaring summer satin fashion of the 80s and all the rest of them around, I’d be ready for the next fight or meet in no time. 

Of course, none of my buddies had studied or competed in the various martial art competitions that I had for years and years, the insane intensive way I did it, for they were my football buddies, but they all decided to show up today at my center and gym because, well, we were graduating High School soon, and going to wind up in our separate ways. They all just wanted one more go at me at once; typical. I knew Big Doug was about to go for it.

Should I just let Doug pounce, and go along with it all just to make them happy? That wouldn’t really be a lie or a sin now would it? He didn’t know it and neither did any of the rest, but none of them would be able to lick or whoop me, even all at once unless I let it happen. Don’t ask for an explanation on this one, I didn’t have it. I wasn’t being secretly boastful about my prowess. It was just a strange fact... that I could. I always could. It was scary, even to me that I could. I had won at every meet and fight or competition I entered.

The big blur of Doug’s approaching huge, hairy torso suddenly just tackled me, slamming me straight down upon the floor of the ring, his hundreds of pounds were now atop me, smothering and he started laughing at me. I heard the rest of the gang react in a whooping frenzy as my face started being squished like a pancake into the floor of the boxing ring.

Funny, and as usual I didn’t feel it, but only smelt the fragrant oil of Doug’s musky hair gel tickling my nose, making me about to sneeze. I decided to count to ten and just lie there, just to appease them all, and then start my surprise attack retort. I heard them snidely giggling and taunting me, and from the corner of my eye, I saw my gym trainer and center mentor teacher Kaz, short for Kazumi, slowly approaching the ropes,  stealthily scoping out the intriguing situation. He was totally silent, unknown to my buddies, and with his mysterious expertise, seeming intrigued, wearing his traditional Gi, and not any trace of a modern workout uniform. He had allowed them all to come in today, as long as they took off their shoes and socks...

He knew I was counting to ten... five, four, three, two... I catapulted upward with a gravity-defying snap and Big Doug went flying up,... and then sideways, shooting downward to the corner of the ring, hitting the bungee cords so hard he bounced off, tripped, and stumbled, falling smack on his stomach, as a strange, strangled muffled groan slid out of him.

My football buddies all gasped and leaned back away from the boxing ring in a hurry as the jolt of humungous Big Doug banging off them hit them in delay, as I sprang back upward, jumping up, then down, to gain momentum, then twirling into a double flip, and a few lightning fast little known martial arts moves, then an aerial kick, doubled into another arial butterfly kick just as I saw my trainer Kaz... actually throw something, wing it as it blurred quickly right towards me...

Both of my feet were up stuck out and airborne, and between the slot of my right big toe and second toe... upside down in the air my - I caught something there in the wedge, it was slim, something maybe the size of...what the?

My friends gasped again and glared. I had caught whatever my trainer had thrown at me with my toes. I made a funny little sound as if it was a comical joke and took the thing from between my toes and stood back up on both my feet, examining it closely. I heard Kaz deeply chuckle a bit, slow and with a decided purpose.

It was a key, on a little plastic keychain with the name of the training center on it. I stared over at him questionably.

"You know his toes are lethal weapons, don’t you? Kaz, my teacher/trainer smoothly, calmly mentioned to my friends, in his smooth as-silk Japanese accent, scratching his up-do, an un-shaved Chomage, a samurai bun hairdo, still with that odd chuckle. His hair was very long, and sometimes he even switched it to a braid down his back. His entire body would be considered one, a lethal weapon. Keep the key, Jon, and close up for me. Think about my offer. Hope to see you around... over the summer." His wisened voice added, with a bow. He just winked at me secretly and then turned and left.

My friends all mutely stared over at me, unblinking, then at my toes...

I smiled widely and cheerily shrugged, asking them all my signature usual question, my stomach growling.

So, who wants pizza?

IT was evening, that I recall, and I had just arrived back from that unusual gym training center—allowed meet-up, all slap happy in a grand good ol’ mood, propping back up one of my fallen Bo staffs against the wall along with the others idly standing there, after changing into my PJ bottom jams and just a clean, un-sweaty white cotton everyday tank top, ready to hit the hay after a quick shower. I stared at my dresser, and up at the top shelf and others near it chock full of my sports trophies, crammed wall to wall with gleaming fake gold, all types of them, years of it, most from my martial arts competitions.

The gym, after I graduated they commented, had even asked me to teach for them, a real job, and I took the offer as seriously as the others, still not making up my flighty mind. I had the now infamously toe-caught keychain on my dresser. That wasn’t usual for them, asking an 18-year-old to help them out and even teach. I was deeply honored. I didn’t realize how they had held me in such high esteem or regard.

I fingered the senior ring, Class of 1982 engraved upon it, and touched the tassel to my grad hat. I twirled it around, inwardly very happy about my soon-to-be graduation next week. Things had gone great this year for me, and all my friends. I was getting offers from all the top college football teams. It just couldn’t be better, couldn’t ask for more than I already had been given. I wasn’t expecting it at all. I really wished I could take that job at the gym if it was just for the summer, for I had promised my parents I’d get a college degree no matter what; it was better that way. I’d have a foundation to grow upon and make them so proud.

There was Penn State, Georgia, Alabama, Southern Methodist, SMU, Washington Lions, Dawgs, Mustangs, Huskers... I was awed and happy and hadn’t figured out where to drop my carcass yet. They all had animals as team logos so...I guess I belonged in a zoo. Hah, I laughed at my own bad joke. I had way too many of them. I was still wondering if I should take the scholarships or just go for what I really wanted to do, and it didn’t have much in common with sports, which was what the colleges all wanted from me, and would pay my way for it, but I could take that scholarship where I could use it best and use it to get in, and then plan a strategy.

I guess the best thing would be to take a double major if I could hang it, going to classes only part-time and on the football team full. I doubted there would be the time to do that, it would even take twice as long to finish, but that was the way to do it I resolved if I had to, for it was my dream, to be a health therapist or nutrition expert, and a psychologist in one way or another, a combo of both, or something in the health field, to heal others and help the public out. My dad was a psych man and had doctorate degrees with psychologist and psychiatrist titles, my mom an emergency Hospital room nurse; Of course, I could make people happy out on the field by throwing a touchdown for their favorite team screaming in jubilation, and be glorified for it but...ah...

My grades were always ok, nothing fancy or highbrow special but I just needed to pass average, and I did, maybe a bit more. I did fine. The sports took up so much of my time it was hard to find extra to study. My father told me he’d help me out with everything if I’d let him, but I wanted to do it alone. He and mom had done so much for me already, incredible parents and I wanted them to be proud of me. I had to make up my mind soon, they were all waiting on my decisions and even told me if I wished for a gap year or six months off to figure it out they’d understand.

It was a warm night, and I had left the balcony door open for a breeze to come in, not just ready for the air conditioning yet, a warm NYC breeze blowing, as well as the mouth-watering aroma of... pizza from the corner takeout joint I loved. The digital clock radio/stereo that I had turned on blared out a new wave tune.

It was SPACE AGE LOVE SONG, BY A FLOCK OF SEAGULLS, one of the new age songs I had taken a liking to. I walked over, picked up a Bo staff, and started to twirl it, making my blurred signature moves, some fancier ones, and practicing to the beat in front of the mirror, putting on a martial arts performance show just for one, yours truly, but of course, being careful of all the stuff piled up on my dresser and all about the room...

THEN I felt it-

You know the feeling, one of goosebumps, as if someone was... watching, I think from somewhere off behind me. Slowly I turned to face the balcony doors, still open, holding my Bo staff at the ready in a defensive stance to meet my invisible opponent. I did it in an exaggerated, humorous way, very much knowing there was no one there; There couldn’t be, as I stared. I thought, maybe a pesky pigeon on the ledge, or some mosquito flying in wanting to make a meal of me, but nothing...was there. Yet I did feel it, that creepy tingle we all get when we sense something, something hiding...

I shrugged, shook the facade of being snooped on off, and slowly faced back towards the mirror, staring at my reflection in the dimmed darkened room, the song still throbbing in the speakers. The color of my eyes shone back to me in the reflection as some light from the balcony outside hit them, just a sharp sliver, but still, they shone, sparkling with that immensely odd, unusual color even in the shadowy dim light, you could still tell...those eyes-I sure was lucky for it.

I placed the staff back quietly against the wall with the others and just climbed into bed, switching off the small end table lamp and hitting the digital alarm clock to on, still listening to that Space Age Love song, feeling calmly at one and peace with myself, staring serenely at the framed photos of me and my family, my friends, that were about and on the walls and other dresser, snapshots of my football mates and past events that gave me warmth and happiness. Everything was coming together, and it was amaz-

A stab-stabbing, singed pain hit somewhere near my shoulder that wasn’t lying against the bed as I was on my side and I tried to grab at it or smack it away. What in the-was it a bug? Bugs don’t feel like that- and I didn’t usually feel acute pain that way-what was going on?

Even worse than that, then... I felt something very warm, and strange all start to trickle into me, making everything... numb, and a hand? A huge, gloved hand had clamped itself right atop my nose and stuffed, pressed something into, close to my nose and mouth, covering it all up and burning it so badly I couldn’t breathe... I started to gag. Didn’t even get reaction time to stop it; I was so stiffed that I couldn’t do anything, anything at all- I  felt paralyzed, helpless... totally limp, and the only thing I could do was blink a few times, just before my eyes closed and everything went dim and fuzzy... and out.

CHAPTER ONE

Iwas now, to my distaste and abnormal discomfort lying on my stomach face down. I made a long sigh and stifled a moan because of what I actually was feeling, and tried to move my head to the side, or some, any portion of my body. Slowly, I was able to turn over onto my back, and the warped, blurry vision of a stark bunk room started to form in front of me. I could have sworn I heard the song Rockin’ Pneumonia by Johnny Rivers . Did they have a radio on? I heard it but kinda muffled. God, I had never felt this way in my life...it was a totally new feeling for me.

Very funny, I ain’t got any flu or pneumonia. I don’t know what I-Ohhhh, my head; that was some bug bite. Uh, was it? No, Jon, that wasn’t a bug... it was a needle, don’t you remember? A stabbing needle in your arm when you had just gone to bed, and then someone stuffed something crappy on top of your nose and mouth and you couldn’t breathe and blacked out! Couldn’t be chloroform, they’d need much more of it to knock me out...

It must have been something much stronger they used than that to knock me senseless, for nothing here ever has. It’s true, yeah, it really happened. Now, where is this? My arms, my legs, I can’t move a thing! And-really? A gag? This is ridiculous. Where is here? Everything is all blurred up, and my eyes busted.

All right, I’m making out some kind of room with um, furniture, dressers, and maybe a bed? I think I’m on a cot and I’m all... tied UP. ME? Yeah, it’s you lame brain. What the- check your grammar, Jon; Are you kidding? NO, it’s not a joke, no matter how many bad ones you’ve told and punned, this is either the worst real one or the highball holy of holies payback of your life. Pray as you’ve never prayed Jon to get up out of it...

A funny grunt of a moan escaped from me, and I heard some clicking sounds, as if a door was being unlocked, then locked again.

I can’t even sit up; the muscles in my arms just don’t work. All that building up and this is how they repay me? When I need them most, totally useless? Ears? Ah great, they’re also not working right either, all muffled. The Eighth Wonder my friends call me. Right. Huh, if they could see me now, so embarrassing, totally embarrassing. Blink hard, and shake your head to try to loosen the... gag. I was able to lift my head just a bit...

I felt a forceful shove upon my forehead pushing me back down, and the big black thing that had done it waved menacingly in front of me. Hey! I’m freaking helpless. What is going on here? C’mon eyes, focus! Where is my 20-20 vision when I need it? God help me so strange, I’ve never had problems with my eyes at all, or my ears, OR my muscles or reflexes! Or anything related to my body, at ALL. My temple worked pretty well, better than most. My mother said my eyes were always strange, though, very different, but what I think she was saying was that I was a little strange... 

Ah, oh ok,-good; sounds and sight are getting sharper, sharper, my hearing is coming back, yeah, that’s good...I started working on trying to free my hands from the restraints that had been placed on them, behind my back, even though I couldn’t see them I could sure feel them, some kind of lousy rope cord. It wasn’t tied very tight and I was sure I could get free of it. What kind of shifty adventure had I been thrown into?

There was now, as I could see, as my eyes had acutely focused properly, a gigantic gorilla of a man standing above me, glaring and scowling, kind of trying to act real dumb but it was clear to me that he wasn’t, (dumb that is) with huge but squinty dark eyes, skin a bit olive-toned, maybe darker. He had this old kerchief over his longhaired head, hair down to his shoulders, kinda kinky braided or half-dreadlocked, and a long thick beard and mustache, shielding his face pretty well. He wasn’t ugly looking, just seemed so to me for he’d just shoved me; just huge, like a boulder. Hmm, I had this thought just pop into my head that this was the perfect time to spit in his face for he was hovering over me and felt like it due to the situation but I was brought up with manners. He was a Giant guy, even bigger than me, and looked like a well-built sumo wrestler. Better keep a close eye out, didn’t like the looks of him, or what I was feeling, or what in hell was even going on.

I glanced down, at what I was wearing; mhm, I was not in my pa-jammies anymore either. Not a good sign. Really, great I’m not too happy about someone else redressing and changing me, and I was just in some workout running shorts and my tank top, nope not too happy about any of this at ALL.

I quickly surveyed the place I had been brought to, which seemed like a bunker. There were a couple of cots, a couple of dressers with a mirror, and a sink in a corner. There was nothing else but that, and the four concrete block walls. Nowhere I saw to whiz though. No loo? Not even a can or bowl? No porcelain throne? Roughing it; Guess I’d have to sink it if I had to take a bathroom run. That was unfortunate. I couldn’t tell if I was underground or on top. There were no windows, and the only way out was that door, a big metal door twice as thick as usual...so I’m deducting underground.

I kept my eyes planted on the huge monster of a man in front of me as I still tried to fiddle with the restraints behind my back. He was just standing there, glaring down at me with a hot, peculiar stare.

How old are you, boy? His gnarly voice gruffly asked, demanded of me, reaching down and pulling the gag from my mouth.

I defiantly tugged away from him as he did it, just to let him know whom he was dealing with. I wasn’t sure what I was dealing with, but it didn’t look good, friendly, or hospitable, so I wasn’t going to give any of that back. Being forcibly taken away was enough to know I was in deep trou-ble...just not how much.

"Yeah, ok I’m masculine, but boy is a bit past tense; I’m sure you’ve noticed, and I’m old enough. Figure it out yourself. Nice one, The crime of kidnapping me from my own home. I’ll give you bonus points for being able to crawl up into the terrace and get away with it all, and hauling me out unseen. What’d you shoot me up with? What was it? I don’t do that crap to myself. You wouldn’t have gotten me anywhere without it. And why should I even bother to talk to you? Startling, but you’re even bigger than me, bulbous bud. Must have been a heck of a joy to change me, too. Don’t deny it. Sure didn’t put much back on me. You didn’t like my jammies? I thought they were stylish enough, comfy, and very clean," my comic, biting sarcasm threw to him. At least my voice worked, loud and strong.

There was a quiet chuckle to the other side off to the left of the Big Gorilla...it sounded seemingly female...

I noticed another person, a woman in the room. She was sitting in a chair near the cot I was on. She was wearing a white laboratory coat as if she was a doctor, had her long, auburn brown hair up in a loose bun, and was peering at me curiously through some glasses. She seemed to be Latino, and a beauty, with lovely almond-shaped eyes, cheekbones dusted with some soft blush, golden brown color in the iris, almost orange, with shades of green, very nice, it made no difference I could see right over those glasses, a stunning woman maybe in her 30’s.

"This one doesn’t have an accent, at least not the right one," the burly man warily commented to her. He also seemed to be of Latino decent, if that’s what you’d call it, not sure, could be even Middle Eastern, a mix, an Islander, Cuban, or South American, but wasn’t behaving traditionally as one of those cultures would.

"No, but he doesn’t need to or shouldn’t if he is who he is," she quietly said back to him.

I noticed, then, that both of them, did have accents, and seemed to be kind of southern, like from the southern states, like Florida, South Carolina, could even be Texas? It was a light type of y’all drawl, or something close to it. Even though they both looked Latino or something of the sort, and not caucasian, they didn’t talk like they spoke a hint of it or were related to that culture. It was weird. Then again, everything so far with this has been so why was I even questioning it? What kind of weirdness have I been thrown into?

Then, the binding on my hands behind me snapped quietly. I had gotten through it...Hallelujah!

The woman’s eyebrows went up and she smirked, intrigued.

The woman had heard the soft snap and laughed lightly.

Well, it looks like blondie here is smarter than you thought, Bruce, she directed to the gorilla guy.

I shook out my hands and arms and yanked the gag off, as it fell around my neck and then rubbed at my wrists, then quickly reached down and over and started to untie the ropes on my feet, warily keeping an eye on my drawling captors. Interesting they didn’t use handcuffs? Their loss.

They both just stared at me strangely, not stopping me from unbinding myself, which I also found... odd. I guess they expected me to break out of it, to begin with? Hmmm. I rubbed at my ankles, to get more circulation and feeling into them, then snuck a look at my left arm near the shoulder and noticed a needle prick-a small one, almost healed, but still there.

"I asked you a question, buddy boy. If you don’t answer it specifically I’ll cut yer tongue out. The guy Bruce" boomed to me.

Wouldn’t that be contrary to the point? You’d never get your answer. I blew back at him. Besides, I’m kinda busy right now trying to undo the harm and sloppy, too-loose rope knotting you’ve done to me.

I rubbed my wrists again, thinking about how else to answer him, so I did it truthfully with a tinge of the usual innate snark humor that just came with me.

ANSWER me, boy, it’ll get worse if you don’t, The Burly bumble of a man sneered. You’re not leaving here until I get what I need from you; most likely... you’ll never leave anyway. He added, with an ominous menacing mumble.

I cleared my throat and attempted to give him some truth, for I was brought up with that etiquette, and some of my questions that I needed and demanded answers to.

"Alrighty, I’m about of age, buddy, maybe more give or take, sorry can’t answer that one precisely ‘cause even I’m unsure to its exaction, and my name isn’t BOY. It happens to be... Jonathan Gold. But, you must have known that too, right? Nice swipe. I couldn’t even strike back when you took me. That’s cheating,  dishonorable, and not much of a fair fight. In fact, you’d be disqualified for it.

"...Why did you take me? You gotta give me that much, I answered your question. How incredible... what a real story I’m gonna have to tell everyone. They’ll never believe me. I’m going to be a real pecking handful, nothing but trouble for YOU. And just what do I owe this privilege of enforced confinement? Are you into some, oh I get it, some mysterious left-wing cult militia to have me sacrificed... or brainwashed for your Liege, your secretive mastermind leader? Or, are you short of fighting men? Do you need a super ninja soldier to control to boost your militia recruit, or do you just like to kidnap and confiscate athletic, muscled blonde guys? You so don’t look the type to do that, but looks aren’t everything, don’t worry yourself." I shot back to him, snide, and rather uncouthly. The fighter in me was telling me being Mr. Nice Guy, as usual, wasn’t going to get me anywhere.

We like to kidnap and confiscate athletic, muscled blonde guys Jon, the lady replied to me, laughing, enjoying my rude jokes. Surprisingly she had a sense of humor and enjoyed my cheeky cheesy comedy.

SHEILA, shut up already! The Big Bruce man snarled, taking out a handgun and pointing at... me.

Excuse me, I couldn’t resist, but he’s really good at it. Nothing at all what we’re looking for except in physicality. Put it down, Bruce. The lady commented, pointing to the gun.

Bruce lowered the pistol and blew some steam, shaking his head. He threw it on one of the dressers near the door, shaking his head and growling, starting to pace.

This looks like a really fun day. Don’t expect cooperation here. I need my beauty sleep and when I don’t get it I get real cranky. I sported, eyeing them, batting my eyes at them, pretending to be coy to throw them off, still feeling out of sorts but gaining some strength.

"Jonathan, you... ah, you are very funny. Quite the comic. We were not expecting that from you, at all. We, uh, have been watching you for a while now from a distance but never heard you speak. You’re a rather strange young man."

I made a face that seemed to amuse her even more and laughed shortly, even snorted, giving them a strained grin.

"ME? Strange? Really? Well golly gee, you’re the ones who did this, not me.