Mockingston Faire: The Collectionverse

By Jian Fong Samuel Yaw

Three friends — Victoria Hughes, Jack Zhang, and Ludvig Gerald — attend Mockingston Faire, an annual convention where fans meet their friends and favourite characters, buy and sell art, play games, and have a good time. Victoria wants to see Gunfighter III, her anticipated game, and reconcile with Ludvig over what she did last year; Jack wants to get as many pictures of his dearest characters and personalities; and Ludvig just wants to keep away from annoying fans and events who constantly forced him to become an amateur actor.

 

But the Faire itself has its own challenges. Everywhere they go, they seem to be unable to evade the malcontents of pop culture. From violent brawls between bitter fandoms, to nuisances who hound their every step, the whole Faire seems to descend into chaos.

 

Can these three make it through this dysfunctional festival with their friends in one piece? Or will they succumb to the surrounding rage, losing their sanity and reputation in the process?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jian Fong Samuel Yaw
• Release date: Jul 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393298328

Book preview

This Ruined My Breakfast

TODAY WAS A SATURDAY, but not like any typical Saturday. On this week, the Hugheses got up earlier than they usually did, cleaning themselves and departing from their home at the break of dawn. And each of them was wearing a costume for that particular day: Andrew, the father, wore a neat suit accompanied with a gear-like monocle and a top hat; Martha, the mother, wore a cyan dress with herds of teal deer grazing along its train; the two sons, Antony and Thomas, wore suits of armor covered by synthetic bear coats like those worn by Roman signifers; and the daughter, Victoria, had her own suit of azure armour molded in a futuristic flair.

When he and his family had settled down towards the nearest Frystle’s, they ordered their meals and started talking about their day.

Dad, wouldn’t it be too early for a Gram-Pounder burger? Thomas objected.

At least it’s better than the usual bacon and eggs! Antony added.

Boys, I know that you miss having a decent breakfast at home, but we should get to the convention hall before the roads get clogged up by a traffic jam, Andrew answered to his sons. Mom and I will have an interview at Mockingston Faire, and we have to be there in time. Besides, Frystle’s is my favourite diner where I used to hang around after my studies.

At the meantime, while Martha was snapping pictures of herself and the serene neighbourhood around the restaurant, her daughter Victoria fussily fidgeted around with a knife and a fork. As her avid eyes scanned for any birds around, she noticed a stream of weird people marching towards the diner’s entrance: an eccentric in a suit resembling its mascot, Flyover Boy the Clydesdale, leading dozens of anthropomorphic horses with their flags into their seats. Some of the masks were of earthly hues, frozen in a frightened glance; others were more outlandish with their sharp horns or their sparkling manes; and still others were adjoined to full-body costumes that made them look more like cartoon characters — all to Victoria’s own disgust. Soon afterwards, the Hughes were the only normal-looking patrons in the diner, surrounded by everyone else who appeared as a pervasive herd of horses that applauded at them!

Flyover Boy approached Andrew and his family with a tray full of their requested dishes and drinks. After all, he explained, today is Frystle’s sixtieth anniversary, so everyone’s donning horse masks to celebrate its service to our town of Meridian, formerly named as ‘Mockingston’. Even as a playwright who’s the talk of the town, you should join in. Why aren’t you guys wearing your masks?

We’re the earliest blokes to reach the diner, because we’re in a hurry to avoid the traffic jams, Andrew answered like the gentleman he thought himself to be, shortly before taking a bite into his burger. Besides, I apologise for forgetting about this occasion in my rush for Mockingston Faire.

On the other hoof, many of us will see you there too! another patron replied from several tables away.

And you have been made as this year’s Guest of Honour, Andrew! a third added and offered to him several felt masks. Your successful play has attracted more tourists into our city, so the organisers have invited you to share your works and win more audiences! Wouldn’t you want all that fame?

The whole diner erupted in a rousing applause that was followed by several rhythmic waves, as though everyone else started to act like a clan of warriors.

Guest. Of. Honour! cried all the other not-horses, all of them poking at the poor playwright. "Guest! Of! Honour! GUEST! OF! HONOUR!"

Although Andrew was glad that his projects led to such a success as what he and his family had seen in the diner, he was greatly annoyed by his fans’ raucous behavior, more so than he was towards his children mischievously posing with some of them for selfies. He could not stand their incessant noise and — worst of all — the possibility of them causing him to do something hilariously embarrassing as they did to last year’s guests.

Enough! the playwright cried. At once, everyone else stopped, and the whole diner subsided into its usual calm. I appreciate your support, but could you please let me and my family enjoy this morning in peace?

In spite of their excitement, the crowds around him agreed.

But will you come to the Artists’ Panel, Mr. Hughes? a tall-necked fan asked. Two of the seats are reserved for you and your wife, and it’s not a good thing to break your agreement.

Andrew shook his head. Definitely! he answered. As long as you hooligans just leave me alone, I’ll give you guys a chance to ask me later — if you can make it past the ticket counters, of course.

And what about you, Mrs. Hughes? Flyover Boy asked. Will you also share your experiences with the rest of us?

I might be going if you guys won’t disturb us anymore. Otherwise, we’ll just cancel our interview and we’ll stay at home until next year.

Time for Teraxyl?

AT A SUNBATHED STREET located dozens of blocks away to the east, two young lads were jogging besides the sleepy shops along the sidewalk. One of them, having ruddy hair, was clad in a crimson uniform with cyan and yellow pins gleaming on his shoulders; and the other was a raven-haired youth in a khaki suit and a stetson hat.

Aren’t you excited for Mockingston Faire, Ludvig? the other, who is known as Jack, asked his friend. There will be live performances to see, actors to meet with, cosplayers to take pictures with, and all that nerdiness for us to enjoy!

Yep, Ludvig answered. I hope it won’t be like last year, when I had to leave early. Vicky made a huge fool of herself by almost chasing me all over the convention centre.

But hasn’t she changed nowadays?Jack asked. She has become less rowdy and more considerate, so just give her a chance to meet you again.

Ludvig shook his head. She’s still irritable and bad-tempered, and she doesn’t like to miss a chance to meet me at the Faire, he answered.

Jack patted his friend’s shoulder. Don’t worry, Ludvig, he reassured. She will prove it to you that she’s not a troublemaker any more. Trust me. He then gestured towards a coffee store to their right and suggested, Why not have a warm cup of Teraxyl coffee and some toast?

Game On!

HAVING FINISHED THEIR breakfast without a fuss, Andrew led his family into his car. Though the traffic was as heavy as he expected it to be, he managed to reach the convention centre in time. But before he and his wife went to a back door, they decided to stick around with their children to leave some instructions.

"Mom and