User:Leasara/Whiner's Dismissal
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{{#ifeq: User |User| Whiner's Dismissal | Whiner's Dismissal}}[[Title::{{#ifeq: User |User| Whiner's Dismissal | Whiner's Dismissal}}| ]]
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{{#ifeq: {{#ifeq: User |User| Shannon Robertson | Shannon Robertson}} | |
{{#ifeq: {{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}} | ||
Author: [[User:{{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}}|{{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}}]] [[Author::{{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}}| ]]
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{{#ifeq: {{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}} | |
Author: {{#ifeq: User |User| Shannon Robertson | Shannon Robertson}} |
Author: [[User:{{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}}|{{#ifeq: User |User| Shannon Robertson | Shannon Robertson}}]] [[Author::{{#ifeq: User |User| Shannon Robertson | Shannon Robertson}}| ]]
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{{#ifeq: {{#ifeq: User |User| Shannon Robertson | Shannon Robertson}} | |
{{#ifeq: {{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}} | | Authors: ' |
Authors: [[User:{{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}}|{{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}}]]
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{{#ifeq: {{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}} | |
Authors: {{#ifeq: User |User| Shannon Robertson | Shannon Robertson}} |
Author: [[User:{{#ifeq: User |User| Leasara | Leasara}}|{{#ifeq: User |User| Shannon Robertson | Shannon Robertson}}]]
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}} {{#if:| — see [[:Category:{{{category}}}|other works by this author]]}}
The Divine Fruit was a little wine and spirits shop on the edge of what was coming to be known as 'Health food Row' among the town's residents. Five years ago, the Tehachapi city council had passed a renewal measure, and the renewal came in the form of half a dozen health food shops, a Sleep Number bed place, and a couple new-age stores. Thomas Mercer had devoted nearly thirty years of his life to the shop, and he had seen more than a few changes to his little piece of Main Street. At least these folks were easier to get along with than the ones that had tried to turn the area into a red light district.
As he had always done, Tom invited the new store owners in the area to join his wine club, a small group of previous and present tenants in the area that gathered once a month to taste some wine and enjoy a little light conversation. These new recruits also provided an interesting assortment of cheeses, breads, and meats, and their conversations proved to be quite interesting, ranging from philosophy to pop culture, from ancient mythology to modern folklore. This Tuesday couldn't come fast enough for him, since he had tracked down a curiosity that would almost certainly spur some excitement.
Tina, who ran the crystals and palmistry shop next door, had caught a glimpse of a strange case of wine being delivered to The Divine Fruit, and by the time Tuesday rolled around, most of the group had their own theory on what lay within. Their gossip had so piqued their anticipation, that everyone was at least fifteen minutes early. Inside the shop, Tom happily made the last preparations for a theatrical reveal of his prize before opening the door for his waiting friends.
Escorting them all in and thanking them for coming, he conducted the band of entrepreneurs into his receiving room where they deposited their foods on the usual table. The room was dimly lit by a pair of battery-powered lights shaped to resemble candlesticks on either side of, presumably, the storied wine crate under a tablecloth.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Tom began as he crossed to the covered crate, "I was just going to open a bottle of tonight's wine, when I noticed you all outside. Given the buzz it's already created, I thought you might enjoy this a little more." With that he pulled the cloth from the crate, knocking both faux candlesticks to the floor and leaving the room dark. The scent of old wood and dust filled the area as Tom made his way to the light switch. A moment later the florescent tubes blinked and hummed to life, pulling surprised gasps from the assembled shopkeeps.
"That can't be..." the manager of The Whole Tomato, Bill, started as murmurs and whispers danced around the room.
"Oh yes it could be!" Tom finished. "Two months ago, Bill, you brought in that printout from the Internet. I shared it with my brother, we both got a kick out of it, but when he saw the bird on this box at an estate sale, he knew he had to buy it. Don't you think it looks almost exactly like the one from the article?" The chatter in the room had picked up as Tom pulled the first bottle from the crate and wiped the dust from the label. "A 1990 Pinot Noir from the northern reaches of South Australia. This will be a treat, she should just be coming into full bloom." He opened two bottles and took the first around the room, making sure everyone had enough to appreciate the flavor. Leaving the second bottle to breathe, he poured his own share and raised his glass for the toast to the vineyard. "To Dionysus' Folly!"
The sound of wine glasses chiming filled the air for a moment before returning to the normal din of the club member's conversations. The only one who did not look pleased was Bill, who quietly made his way to the front. "What if this really is the wine from online?" his lips were white, but he spoke with measured tone, trying not to disrupt the others. "They never did find the guy."
"Bill, relax," Tom reassured his friend, "you can't possibly believe there's anything to the idea of a case of wine playing a part in a man's disappearance, can you? Look, the longer you're in this business, the more of these stories you hear. I've heard a version of the one in your article off and on for the last ten years." Bill was nodding his head, but still looked nervous. "It really is an excellent bottle," Tom continued, raising his glass. Bill mimicked the motion with a wan smile and the two men drank.
"That's odd," Bill noticed. "Does it make your mouth tingle?"
Tom considered this for a moment, "It does a little, doesn't it. Strange," he worked his mouth a bit before continuing, "you know, I think my lips are going numb." Pulling his key from his pocket, he struck his glass to get everyone's attention. "Has anyone noticed anything strange about the wine?"
"Lihe my mouf goin nub?" Tina asked. "We were jus--" she was cut short by a scream which rapidly fell mute as well and the sound of a wineglass breaking. Everyone turned to see Janice, from Wild Oats, with one hand over her mouth and the other in the air as she hopped from one foot to the other.
"Dammit! I knew it!"
"Calm down, Bill!" Tom was trying to think of what might have been wrong with the wine. "Someone help her, I'm going to make a phone call." Bill shot him a look then moved to help the girl. In his small office, Tom dialed the Poison Control hot line, who weren't certain what might be wrong. "Bill," he called into the other room, "what's wrong with Janice?"
"Her teeth are falling out, and she can't talk. Tina is losing her teeth too." Tom conveyed this to the hot line, which advised not to induce vomiting and to try diluting whatever they had imbibed by drinking lots of water. The sink in his restroom barely supplied enough water to rinse your hands, but there was a hose spigot out back that would work. He let the man on the phone know where to send the ambulance, then grabbed a stack of paper cups and began ushering everyone into the back alley.
Janice was in bad shape, she had a two inch black beak sticking out of her mouth, and had lost all but a few dozen strands of her hair. Everyone watched her, knowing that their fate would follow hers. It took a moment, but she managed to figure out how to drink with the beak, and once she had her fill, the other fifteen in the group took turns getting their own. Janice was frantic under everyone's scrutiny, but they had to try to help her or risk their own panic. As the others drank, the few hairs she had left stiffened and swelled, then produced black feathers. By the time they were done, her head was covered in jet plumage to match her beak. Then it began shrinking and her fear managed to catch the crowd.
Bill started a fight with Tom, and the three other men at the gathering got pulled into the fray, while most of the women couldn't decide between arguing mutely and weeping silently. Other than the scuffle of the men fighting, there was no noise to be heard, which made Janice's sudden squawk that much more deafening. All attention back on her, they found her head had likely found it's final shape, and her body had lost a lot of weight as well. Her shirt would no longer stay on her shoulders, so she was trying to hold it up, but her hands were changing, lengthening quite fast now. Once it finally slipped from her grasp it revealed the sinister feathers had claimed the top of her chest and were continuing to advance down her back. Her falling shirt caught her slacks on it's way down and the garments fell in a heap at her feet.
People's voices were returning now, changed as they were, they raised an unearthly noise in protest of their situation, but no one took notice. Everyone was busy trying to keep their own modesty now, so they missed witnessing Janice's final seconds of change. As the feathers sped down her back, her spine pushed on ahead of the tide shortening the distance between her hips and ribs to the point that her much larger sternum hung between her legs. Her spine then expanded on the other side of her pelvis, pushing her coccyx to form a stubby tail and pushing her vulva and anus to form a single vent.
While her neather regions were getting a make over, her arms were being overrun by the feathers. Her hand had become almost as long as her forearm before the feathers reached her elbow, and by the time they made it to her wrist, her fingers were all but gone. Her wings arrived just in time to support her in the air as her big toes inverted and her little toes disappeared, her knees having moved to either side of her sternum and her ankles having moved half way up the rest of her leg.
As she landed, she watched the rest of her rookery hop and flap in a strange ripple. In the front parking lot, a siren wound down as the ambulance arrived. The paramedics rushed in, but there was no one there to greet them so they made their way through the back room and back door. All they found were sixteen sets of clothes and a flight of crows taking to the air and heading North.