Lestat, yep there was a rumour that lil' Joann comitted suicide. (she just disappeared, i dunno...)
Also, many of the people you mentioned were still at the Funhouse, if I remember that little boy Harry used to like to kick the @#%$ outta me w/his cowboy boots (bad case of Little/Big Man complex) and Mike Rea was funny as hell; after he fell to the "dark side". I knew many of the others, but if ya wanna batch of war stories, ya gotta buy the beers! Are ya still in the area?
Thinking back, most of the techniques used against me were ill-conceived and futile. Take the belt loop grasp: With one hand out of play, I usually let gravity take us down (while the poor phaser's other arm is trying to break the fall), always making sure that I fell on THEM. After a while, I was off the belt loop and just surrounded by an entourage of big dudes. Kinda felt like da Prez.
I had only one rule: Never screw around at the host home. Period. This usually meant that I was treated with marginal humanity and often was well received, even liked. This drove the poor phasers nuts to see me run so Hot and Cold. When I did write an MI, it was usually because I sensed weakness or doubt in my oldcomer and wanted to help them "see the light". More than a few did...
My "tour of duty" came to an abrupt end after I heard that I was going to Boston. After all my hard work, they wanted a divorce! Couldn't let that happen. So, while lined up at the feeding window, I clamped onto one of the I beams and Spider-Man like to da rafters. I was laughing madly and spitting at people, threatening to jump. Har! not likely. Those silly fucks were following me around with matresses; it was a beautifully choreographed exit. Once I spotted the cops and EMTs, I knew victory was mine. 6 weeks later I was outta the psych ward (they decided i wasn't nuts, just determined) and back in the World.
Ya know, the worst thing is realizing that this evil is still being perpetrated at the very same building...Jason Edited by: misbehaver at: 11/1/01 11:25:39 am