After a chance encounter with one Count Bologna, I decided that could be a good idea for the urchins to have a grown-up working for them, to interact with other grown-ups when they would never agree to deal with kids.
So I had a meeting with the other urchins and a majority voted for having interviews of grown-ups with the idea to then decide together if we’d hire them in the end or not.
Below are the transcripts of the first interviews we held, with more to come.
Count Bologna : https://www.flickr.com/photos/myrtiligaly/23723451365/
Beryl Strifeclaw : https://www.flickr.com/photos/myrtiligaly/23107908113/
Miss Violet Solano : https://www.flickr.com/photos/myrtiligaly/23710636012/ with a picture taken by Becky : https://www.flickr.com/photos/annalisa_shepherd/23189791574/ and a doodle she made : https://www.flickr.com/photos/annalisa_shepherd/23449967259/
Sir Sir Emerson Lighthouse : https://www.flickr.com/photos/myrtiligaly/23848829636/in/dateposted/
and the letters of reference he brought :
Mr Rigby H. Copperhead : https://www.flickr.com/photos/myrtiligaly/23888118595/in/dateposted/
Ms CC Creeggan : https://www.flickr.com/photos/myrtiligaly/23443748533/in/photostream/
*sits at the top of the observation tower watching as a paper glider soars away on the wind*
Emerson picked up the paper upon which he had been just writing and gave the note a quick proofread:
Dear urchins, I hear you are looking for an agent, well look no further than your tall, silver-haired and silver-tongued benefactor at the Gangplank.
Sir Sir Emerson Lighthouse, MD, PHD, DDD, NBE
Twice knighted, thrice retired
Having read the note to his satisfaction, Emerson then folded it lengthwise along the middle, folded it lengthwise again, twisted and folded some more until he had a perfect paper air glider . He then walked to the Gangplank door, stepped outside and tested the wind with a freshly licked finger. He then drew his arm back and launched the glider down Prince Dakkar Boulevard.
“That should reach them,” Emerson smiled before turning back into the bar.
Violet sits at her desk and re reads the letter she just finished penning
Master Jimmy and Miss Myrtil, i understand the urchins are in need of a qualified Representative to interact with your seniors in business and legal dealings, i present my self for your review for this position, i am a competent and qualified businesswoman and am well versed in law and effective ways to work around it, when necessary, i have my own offices and staff to aid in your endeavors, and as i have other Business dealings that bring me in a handsome profit, i will forgo any monetary renumeration,as you, and Tepic know ,i have never had any negative issues with your Organization, and work to keep myself in your good will,
yours in service………………… V Solano
the rabbit folded the letter and sealed it before passing it to a runner to be delivered, and leaning back in her chair mused “Father always said every climb to power, starts with a toe hold”
“People work for me, I don’t work for people”
Mr Underby was staring at a photograph in his office when a tapping sound was heard at his third floor window. He turned, instantly noticing a large raven which sat on his window sill. Its feathers were fluffed out, and it cocked its head as it peered into the window.
tap tap tap
He could see something was hanging from its neck. Underby strode to the window, unlocked it, and opened the window with a shudder. Snow from the sill drifted down onto a slowly passing old woman, she cursed something into the wind, but the words were lost three stories up.
“What have we here?” he asked, taking the cylinder from the collar the raven wore.
“Awwww,” repied the raven in a rough gravelly voice.
Underby looked briefly up at it, then opened the cylinder and read over the contents. He blinked, then read it over again, to make certain he had properly digested it. “Agent of the urchins… hmmf. Well, until they choose one, I’m not going to even think about it.”
He looked down to the raven. It cocked its head, looking back.
“Shoo.” Underby said, waving his long bony fingers at the black bird. “Aw! Aw! Aw!” cried the raven as it swooped off into the cold bleak grey air of New Babbage, fading by the second into the fog.
Underby closed the window, and returned to the photograph.
That’s totally a good idea.
Say it with me everyone “What could possibly go wrong?”
Myrtil ripped off another page of Jimmy’s worn notebook and scribbled carefully.
” Dear Miss Violet,
We would be honored to interview you this afternoon at 3:30pm, if your busy schedule allows. Please meet us in the Old Imperial Theatre across from Loki’s Absinthe Cafe.
Also, as a mark of trust, could you give us the name of the urchin who carelessely let slip the secret information about us interviewing grown-ups?
We are looking forward to seeing you,
She folded the paper twice and gave it back to Miss Solano’s messenger. “There ya go! Run, Pete, run!”
Rigby stared at the blank paper in front of him, quite unsure of how to go about writing the note. Yes, he did remember how to read and write, but should he ask Myrtil for an interview?
… He couldn’t think of a reason not to. And so he wrote:
I heard you were hiring someone to represent you in situations where a child wouldn’t be taken seriously. As I recall, you did say I could come to the urchins if I had any trouble on the street. Allow me to return the favor, if I can.
You may find me at the Wandering Eye, where I keep a position as messenger. My job is rather spontaneous in nature, so I should be available most of the time.
Sincerely, Rigby H. Copperhead
Rigby puffed on his pipe as he read what he had just wrote.
“Hmmm… S-seems about right.”
He folded it up and put it in his coat pocket, and headed off to Loki Absinthe. He was told he might be able to reach the urchins there…
Myrtil grinned as she was reading over the message written across the paperplane-folded letter that Oliver had brought in. She glanced up at him and took the second letter he was handing her out silently.
The girl unfolded it and started to read again, soon exclaiming. “Another one!?”
Myrtil sighed, pushing both opened letters on the side, and started drumming thoughtfully on the table in front of her with the fingers of her left hand.
She looked up at the urchin boy who was still standing quietly near the end of the long table. “Those are interesting candidates, but we can’t continue like that forever or we’ll become proper businessmen before we even manage to grow up…”
Oliver shrugged. “What do we do then?”
Myrtil frowned. “If Emma’s right and Hyde spilled the beans, then we gotta deal with him. But in the meantime, we need to let people know that interviews are closed. It’s a damn exhausting business, it is! At this rate we’re all gonna pass out before Steam Santa comes.”
The boy pointed to the letters on the table. “What about those two?”
“Oh, we’re gonna ask them over, but they’ll be the last ones, with Ms CC.” Myrtil folded the letters back into their original shape and pocketed them. “Alright Oliver, you’re gonna take three other urchins with you and you’ll all spread the news around town. The urchins aren’t hiring anymore. Interviews are over. But…”
She paused and stood up, lowering her voice. “Make it as if they’re overhearing you, get it? It was all a rumor to start with, it gotta be a rumor to end it.”
Oliver nodded. “And Hyde?”
The girl grinned. “Make especially sure HE overhears you. And if he really was the one who let the information slip out, we may have a word with him later. Petra thinks it was Tubby though so we gotta investigate.”
The boy nodded again and rubbed his nose with the back of his sooty hand. “So we start now?”
“Yes.” Myrtil approved. “The sooner the better.”
Oliver nodded again and exited through a hole in the wall, letting a modulated whistle out to call for his fellow urchins.
((Thank you all for your applications, we will go through the interviews with you but won’t be doing any other beside Emerson’s, Rigby’s and CC’s as it is for sure quite exhausting! I didn’t expect it would be this successful and although that’s very cool, I am a bit overwhelmed to be honest :op ))
((I added the link to the transcript for Violet’s interview up there in the blog post)).
looks like the link is broken for my interview
Thanks for pointing it out, that was hard but it should be fixed now. Please let me know otherwise!
your welcome some times im a bit ….difficult to deal with, even in transcript it seems,oh and i love beckys doodle.
Myrtil watched Oliver stepping out of the hideout and then rummaged in her pocket for the letters she had put aside. She picked the paperplane-folded one, unfolded it and read it over. She then flipped the piece of paper to write upon its blank side.
“Dear Sir Sir Emerson,
We are very pleased that such an upstanding citizen as yourself would consider working for the urchins and we would like to invite you to the Old Imperial Theatre on Sunday at 12pm SLT to discuss further about this possibility.
See you then!
The girl folded back the paper into its paperplane shape and handed it to a younger urchin who was jumping excitedly around the Christmas tree standing in a corner of the room.
“Bring that to Mister Emerson at the Gangplank. Make sure to be cute and polite and he may give you a cookie.”
The small boy took the paperplane and nodded, a big grin blooming across his freckled face. He pocketed carefully the letter and rushed outside with all the speed of his short legs.
Test a bit of the cookie on any passing dog, just in case, Sir Sir Emerson’s baking is sometimes a bit….. suspect…
After the small urchin boy had left the hideout, Myrtil walked back to the table, fished the second letter out of her pocket and laid it flat on the worn wooden surface, blank side up. She grabbed a pencil, paused a minute, staring at the paper, and then started to write.
“Dear Mister Rigby,
I am very touched by your offer of working for us urchins, as a mean of returning a favor. To make sure you fully understand the scope of this mission though, we would like you to come visit us in the Old Imperial Theatre, right across Loki’s Absinthe Cafe, this Sunday at 4pm SLT.
It will be a pleasure to meet you there,
The girl folded the letter twice and walked towards Linus, who was standing near the hole in the wall, toughtfully taking puffs off his pipe while watching the people pass below in the street.
“Here Linus, could you take that to the Wandering Eye? You need to give it to Mister Rigby Copperhead. He’s tall with bright red hair and always smoking a pipe too.”
The blond boy grinned and took the letter. “Sure thing! Oy was startin’ ta get bored. Besoides, poipe smokin’ fellows hav’ ta be spiffin’, Oy’ll wanna chat wif ‘im an’ share herbs secrets!”
Myrtil chuckled. “Alright, find him first. Off you go!”
Linus held two fingers near his cap and waved them away and down to salute before disappearing through the hole.
After peeking into the hideout late that night and seeing that most of the urchins were either not home or asleep, Hyde left a note for them on the table. Said note read like this:
Whomever this may concern,
I can’t go five steps out of a bleeding pub without you lot whispering loud enough for everyone and their cat to hear, and I swear you’re doing it on purpose. Yes, you’re done interviewing people. We get it.
If you’re deliberately driving me up a wall because I was spreading rumors, I’ll have you know that I only told one person about the offer. One. Either he’s horrible at keeping secrets, or someone overheard us.
It doesn’t help that Count Bologna has been bragging about “being the king of the urchins” so congratulations for hiring the Lord of Putting-Butter-on-Bacon. Damned attention seeker.
So, yeah. Got the message. You can leave me alone now.
P.S. If the count told you any fanciful stories about how he copped a mouse, don’t believe him. The truth of that matter is he got punched in the face at a dingy pub.
The urchins find the note left by Mister Hyde and discuss it :
((UPDATE : The links for Emerson’s and Rigby’s interview transcripts have been added in the blog post up there.))
Lighthouse and Copperhead—you two tattle-taling fuggers. You best watch your backs, my friend Mr. Petharic is in town.
Dawkins, yer such a girl. Pukin’ good Chivas awl over th’ place! Cor, wotta waste. Mybee ya oughtta stick ta warm milk, eh?
Ain’t my fault, I was born with the irritable bowel, see. Usually comes out as the poops but I ate so much cheese at Victor’s boofay that I got myself all bunged up and it come out as the vomits.
As a girl, I gotta object to your suggestion that we puke more.
Petra raced back toward the Messenger Depot, coatless, from the hideout above the Imperial Theater, with a mission—to hunt down Tubby and make him squeal about whether he had spilled any beans recently.
She rounded a corner and slammed right into him, knocking both of them back onto their cabooses. “Cripes!” Petra cried out, her pipe flying from her mouth.
“Oof!” grunted Tubby, rolling back into a snowbank.
The young girl sat up, looking at the rotund boy nearby. “Tubby! Why don’tcha look where yer goin, huh?” she asked, dusting snow from the back of her head.
“I was just standin there, lickin my rock candy.” he mumbled, still sitting still.
Petra stood up, placing her messenger hat back onto her head, looking around for her pipe. “Well, watch where yer standing, then.” she said, then snapped her head around at him. “Hey, I was lookin for you, ya big lump!”
He looked up at her, wincing. “For me?“
“Yeah! You!” she said, kicking a little snow. “Have you been mouthin off to people about the interviews with the adults we been conductin?”
His mouth snapped shut, his neck wiggling slightly. “Innerviews?” he asked. “What innerviews?”
“You know.” Petra said, her hands on her hips. “For the position. Sort of an agent for us, an adult agent. You know.”
He shook his head. “No.” he said. “Nobody told me nothin.”
She raised her eyebrows. “No?”
He shook his head again, pouting slightly.
“Huh.” she said. “Guess I was wrong. Oh well.” She turned to leave, then looked back at the round little boy. “You jes gonna sit there all day or something?”
“No.” he said, then with some huffing and puffing he finally righted himself.
“Aw, cripes, Tubby…” she moaned.
“Wha? Wha?” he asked, looking around, bewildered.
“You sat on my damn pipe!” she exclaimed, looking at the small black pipe embedded into the snow.
I am most impressed by the references presented by Mr Lighthouse, which look totally legitimate in every way. *nods*
((UPDATE : The link for CC’s interview transcript has been added in the blog post up there.
Thank you all for your applications and for coming to the interviews! We are now done with them and will have an urchin meeting in the New Year to vote and choose who will represent us. Whatever happens next, I hope you enjoyed the interviews. I found them fun! ))
um… I think I left my bottle of Jack Daniels and cigarettes on the stage by where I was sitting. You, or one of the other urchins, wouldn’t have happened to pick it up by any chance?
If you left anything on that stage it’s long gone by now Mr Lighthouse.
Good luck to the adults who applied for this post. It sounds a rather challenging position.