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It's time for an after party!
[About an hour after the trial and subsequent execution, Cabanela makes a decision.
They need to do something, keep the morale up, however little it may be.
Under each occupied room door people will find the following note written:
In difficult times such as this, it is important to carry on.
Don't give into despair; we must preservere.
If you don't want to be alone this evening, meet me in the dining hall.
-Cabanela
[Upon entering the dinning hall, you will find Cabanela sitting at one of the tables; he has lit two candles that are placed at the center of the table, but there's nothing else to note.
You'll have to supply your own food, since he doesn't have much of an appetite.]
They need to do something, keep the morale up, however little it may be.
Under each occupied room door people will find the following note written:
Don't give into despair; we must preservere.
If you don't want to be alone this evening, meet me in the dining hall.
-Cabanela
[Upon entering the dinning hall, you will find Cabanela sitting at one of the tables; he has lit two candles that are placed at the center of the table, but there's nothing else to note.
You'll have to supply your own food, since he doesn't have much of an appetite.]
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[There's quite a few writers stuck here, lucky him. And so far, none of them are the insufferable, self-promoting types of authors. Maybe that attitude comes from fame and acclaim.]
I'm a bit of a writer, myself. It's all fiction, sometimes of the science sort, but never long enough for a book. [And the green onions are done.] It's a hobby of mine, didn't have much of a chance this week to work on it, what with my arms hurtin' and the stress of bein' here.
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Marty leans up against the table, watching as Mordecai finishes up the last of the onions. So that probably explained why he was crying earlier. ] What's it about?
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Marty, I've seen plenty of "weird" in my time, time travel ain't the weirdest of them all. That position goes to the blob infestation I had in my saloon a few weeks ago, or that time we were all forced to sing thanks to radiation. That was a weird couple o' days.
[He dumps the onions into the pan. All done.] What, my story? Nothin' at the moment. I tried my hand at mystery a few days ago, but that didn't work out well.
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Believe me.
[ He crosses his arms over his chest, and he smiles! ] Aw, c'mon, I bet they were great! Did you ever have anyone read 'em?
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[At least the misadventures on Mars don't leave him deeply uncomfortable.]
Well, my wife does, but I never got to finish my novel. Alien turned my writin' space into a gladiator area and with it, took my papers. [It was sad, but typical for his luck.] I'm thinkin' of pickin' up writin' again, but so far, all I got is writer's block.
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And what about your mom again?
[ He hums...and shrugs his shoulders. ] What about writing stuff while you're here? Maybe it could help take some of the edge offa things?
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What do you mean, what about my mother? She's a good woman, taught me everythin' about keepin' house. [He stirs the vegetables.] Her side of the family's Jewish, my dad ain't.
...I was thinkin' of doin' that, actually. Now that I ain't as afraid as before, I got the brainpower to do it.
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He clears his throat and rubs the back of his head, especially when cooking's involved. Marty can't cook worth a shit; him in the kitchen usually meant disaster. What would Jen say? ] I'll keep that in mind. For the future.
Oh. Uh. [ Awkward pause! ] I thought you said that she wasn't nice...or something. Sorry. I guess I might have heard wrong. [ oops ]
If you ever get started let me know. I'll be your proofreader. How's that sound?
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[It left her less vulnerable to hacking, but at the same time, the whole singing mess wouldn't have started in the first place, and he would still have a saloon. Life is like that sometimes, he sighs.]
No, no problem, I like talkin'. [Understatement.] Take it as introducin' myself. I tell you about my mother, you tell me about yours, anythin' that ain't embarassin'.
[He turns off the heat and turns to Marty expectantly. Better to avoid the topic of proofreading, in case he ends up writing the sort of stories that should not be shared.]
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...Can I call you Mord, or...?
[ Oh boy. Marty breathes in and out. Embarrassment time. ] Well, ah. In 1985 my mom was kind of a...well, she drank a lot I guess. I mean, I can kinda see why if she had to put up with my dad. [ Which is mean to say, but still. ] He was kind of a wimp. Least he was the last time I saw him.
It's all kind of weird to talk about. I ran into her [ kinda ] in 1955 and she sorts got the hots for me.
[ Yeah. ]
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Sounds an awful lot like "Morty", don't use it. Most folks call me Barkeep where I'm from, it's unofficially my nickname by now. [Marty isn't old enough to drink legally, but he can refer to the title.]
What's so bad about your dad bein' a bit of a coward? There are plenty of woman who love a sensitive man, my wife included.
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Aaah, I don't think my dad's sensitive. He doesn't know how to stick up for himself. Like at home, the neighbors would call him the local doormat. [ He wrinkles his nose. ] About a week ago [ kinda ] my dad's boss from work wrecked his car while he was drinkin' and blamed it all on my dad. And he just took it!
So the last time I saw my dad's gotta do reports for his boss at work, pay for car insurance and repairs, and pay for Biff's dry cleanin' because when he hit the car, he spilled beer on his shirt.
He doesn't have any guts at all. It sucks.
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[He grimaces.] Your dad's got the worst kinda luck, Marty. There's lotsa bad folks out there that take advantage of people like that, ain't always their fault. Don't he got friends to stick up for him?