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Chapter Twenty-Two — Close Physical Affection of the Third Kind
Chapter Twenty-Two — Close Physical Affection of the Third Kind Pam wished she had a map.Maps were kind of neat, especially the big foldy ones. They were like pamphlets that told people where to go and stuff, which was very neat.Also, they were spelled M-A-P, which was just Pam backwards.Not all maps were pamphlet-like, or course, and not everything was edible either, that didn’t mean that there wasn’t some overlap.Pam shook her head, she had to refocus and remember the directions the nice inquisitor had given her. A right here, cross a road there, move past the place with all the shops at the end of this road... and then she was there.The district she was in had a lot of nice houses with porches on the front. Long cloth banners hung from one side of the street to the other, and there were lights all along the street with red glass panels around the magical bulbs. The doors on all the houses were also red.She paused on the sidewalk and glanced around. There weren’t many carts moving through the area, and even fewer people were standing around than usual. It was a little strange. The porches leading into some of the homes were occupied though, often by women that were wearing very flowy sorts of dresses.They were nice, but a little too loose for Pam’s taste. Pam had a lot to say about her progenitor, but Dreamer definitely had great tastes in pretty dresses.“Hey, sweetie,” someone said.Pam turned and found a young woman, just a bit older than Abigail, approaching her. She bent down to be at the same height as Pam. That was nice of her.“Hey, are you looking for someone?” the lady asked.Pam nodded. “I am. I’m looking for someone that’s good at hugging.”“Ah,” the lady said. She stared Pam up and down. “Aren’t you... very young for that?”“For hugs?” Pam asked. She was confused.“Are you here on your own, sweetie?” the lady asked.Pam nodded. “Yeah.”“Where are your parents?”Pam considered it. Did she have parents? Dreamer was... not a parent. Her progenitor, certainly, but she hadn’t given birth to Pam, and she didn’t parent her. She made Pam, but that was the extent of it. “I have no parents, I was created whole cloth from the void with a singular purpose which I one day hope to transcend so that I can better understand myself and the world around me. Right now, the next step in that transcendence is a better understanding of hugs.”“Uh. Okay, you’re an orphan then. Poor thing, you don’t even have any shoes on. Come on, we’ll go see Madam Graham.”“Does she know a lot about hugs?” Pam asked.“She knows a lot about everything,” the lady said. She extended a hand for Pam to take, and she did, the lady leading her over to one of the nicer homes along the street.They stepped in just as a man walked out, he was tugging his shirt on straight, his hair a mess under his hat, though he seemed to be in a good mood despite the state of his clothes. The house had a lounge in the entrance, with sofas here and there, a few little tables with nice plants on them, and lots of curtains on the walls and over the windows. There was a lot of red around, for reasons that Pamphlet couldn’t figure out.Stolen story; please report.Maybe it was to hide the blood? She could vaguely recall hearing something like that when she was still Dreamer.“Madam Graham,” the lady leading Pam said.A big woman turned. She was the oldest miss in the room, a lot of makeup on and keen eyes that took Pam in at a glance. “Who’s this little lady?” she asked.“Hi,” Pam said. “I’m Pam.”“Hello Pam,” the lady said.“Madam Graham, Pam here, ah, was asking about... things on the street. I thought it best that she not stay out there on her own,” the lady still holding onto Pam’s hand said.“That’s likely for the best,” Madam Graham said. The other women in the room were looking at Pam, and she overhead some saying that she was very cute, which made her feel nice.“I’m here because I had questions,” Pam said.“Ah, so you’re not here looking for a wayward father then,” Madam Graham said.Some of the women giggled at that. Pam shook her head. “That’s not why I’m here, miss Madam. I’m looking for someone that can tell me about hugs. I’m making a pamphlet about hugs.”“Ah,” the lady said. She looked up to the girl holding onto Pam’s hand. “Let’s go talk in my office, shall we? Cindy, keep an eye on things while I’m busy. That man in the pumpernickel room looks like the sort who gets rowdy once he has a drink or two in his blood.”“Yes ma’am,” one of the women said.Pam followed Madam into an opulent office, with a big desk and a lot of dressers against the walls. There were more mirrors in this room, and even more curtains. “Sit down, dear,” the lady said with a gesture to a plush seat in front of the desk.Pam let go of the hand she was still holding onto and plopped herself down. “Are you going to teach me about hugging?” Pam asked.Madam Graham sat on the front edge of her desk. “When you say hugging, what do you mean?” she asked.Pam was already familiar with such existential questions.“I mean when someone hugs you and it feels good.”“Just hugging?” she asked.Pam nodded, then hesitated. “Sometimes they pat-pat your head and that’s nice too.”“I see,” Madam Graham said. She looked relieved. “Well, in that case, I think... do you know about the different kinds of love? No, you’re too young. There are many sorts of love. There’s the physical, the love you feel for a comrade, and the love that comes from being safe in the presence of another. There are more, of course, but hugging gives you all three of those.”“Oh,” Pam said. That was a more complicated answer than she expected. Then again, there was a lot of things that were more complicated than she thought at first. “What else is there?”She was determined to learn though. Soon, she’d be able to make pamphlets that would teach anyone that read them to be the very greatest huggers!
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Chapter Twenty-Three — About Hugs
Chapter Twenty-Three — About Hugs “You want to know all of this to... make a pamphlet about it?” Madam Graham asked.Pam nodded. “Yeah. A pamphlet about hugs.”“That’s interesting, dear, but why a pamphlet? I can hardly imagine a scenario where someone needs to learn that hugs, that physical affection in general, are good,” she said. Madam Graham gestured past Pam and to the nice lady that had escorted Pam to her. “Can you get us some tea, dear, just plain black.”“Yes, ma’am,” the lady said before leaving the office.Madam Graham leaned forwards. “So, tell me, Pam, you really just want to know to make a pamphlet? That seems... strange to me.”Pam shrugged. “It’s why I exist. To distribute pamphlets. But sometimes, I’ve learned, the reason you live can’t be something so simple. Sometimes you need more. Like giving people pamphlets is a good reason to exist, I think, but those pamphlets need to come from somewhere, someone needs to make them. And there’s a quality tied to it. Good pamphlets and bad ones. You don’t want the spirit of the reason you exist to be tainted by poor quality.”Madam Graham blinked a few times. It was an expression that Pam found didn’t suit her very make-up covered face. “That was a little deeper than I was expecting, I’ll be honest,” she said.Pamphlet rooted around and found one of her Not Today pamphlets. She placed it on the table and slid it forwards. “Here,” she said.The lady took it, opened it, then carefully read through it. Her expression changed a few times, becoming a weird mashup of happy and sad that Pam understood all too well.“May I keep this?” she asked. “I think, maybe, some of my girls might appreciate it.”Pam nodded very quickly. “That’s what they’re for.”“This is impressive work, Pam. I’ll be honest, I was expecting something very different. Usually, when a girl off the street... well, nevermind. You said you wanted to know about hugs?”“Yes. So that I can make a pamphlet about them, because hugs are good, so maybe... maybe I can make a pamphlet that’s like a hug. Reading a pamphlet tells you things, it makes you feel feelings, and I want to make something that helps people feel those feels just from reading the pamphlet.”“That seems like a tall order,” the lady said.“Maybe,” Pam replied. “But this is what I live for, and it seems like a good thing to do, a good reason to keep on going, yeah?”“I suppose so,” Madam Graham said. She leaned to the side, eyes half-lidded as she considered things. “I haven’t considered physical affection from the point of view of someone who doesn’t have any carnal needs in some time.”“What are those?” Pam asked.“Nevermind that,” Madam Graham said. Pam made a mental note to ask Abigail later. “Hugs, and any kind of close physical affection of the sort, are a way to be close to someone, to share in their warmth and assure them and yourself that things will be alright.”Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.Pam nodded very hard, and removed a crayon from inside her dress, then a piece of paper she had for future pamphlet making. She started taking notes, in bullet form, along one half of the paper.Hugs = warmHugs = two peopleHugs are sharingShe nodded some more. This was good material.The nice lady that had escorted her to Madam Graham’s arrived, with a tray that had tea and some biscuits on it. Madam Graham poured two cups, then gave one-on a little saucer with some biscuits and a dab of honey-to Pam.“What else?” Pam asked as she set her stuff on her lap and took the tea cup.“Well, there’s an amount of shared intimacy in a hug. It’s not necessarily a more... degenerate sort of intimacy either. Rather, it is the closeness of allowing someone you care about within your personal space.”“That’s good,” Pam said. She downed her tea. It was good, and warm, then she picked up her paper and pencil and added a few lines to her notes. “What about, ah, things to make hugs better?”That was important too, she figured. It wasn’t enough to know why hugs were good. If she was really going to teach people about them, then her pamphlets had to not only sell people on the idea of hugs, but also explain to them that hugs, like all things, were an art, and that because of that, they could be improved.“Well, I suppose the strength of the hug matters. One that’s too tight can obviously hurt, and you don’t want to grab a person the wrong way. Of course, there’s one factor that might be easily overlooked in times of distress, but which I find more important than the rest.”“What’s that?” Pam asked. A few biscuit crumbs flew out out her mouth, and she licked her lips to help them stay in.“The smell of a person. I insist that all my girls bathe regularly. No one wants to have to smell another person who hasn’t taken the time, and decency, to bathe.”“Oh,” Pam said.Baths were awful though. She reluctantly added that to her list.Smelling nice was probably a bonus. She imagined hugging someone that smelled like fart, then someone that smelled like freshly cut paper, and the latter sounded a lot more fun to hug.“Okay,” Pam said. “That’s a lot of things. I think I can work with that. Thank you.”“You’re very welcome,” Madam Graham said. “Now, if you’re heading out, let me escort you to the edge of the red light district, just in case.Pam opened her mouth as wide as she could and fit the teacup into it. Madam Graham and the nice lady watched as she crunched and munched through the cup, chewing as quick as she could to be polite.“Okay,” she said after swallowing. “Let’s go then!”
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Four — Vim and Vigor
Chapter Twenty-Four — Vim and Vigor Crossover: Vigor Mortis, by ThundaMoo I step into the shop first. Penelope is a lot more fragile than I am, and it only makes sense that I be in front in case someone tries something. I always have a few tentacles, ready to reach out and attack. It’s probably why I’m the first to notice that we’re not where we’re supposed to be.“This is bizarre,” Penelope says hesitantly.“This isn’t the place we were going to,” I say.The place is a cafe, so it’s not too different from where we were going, but this one has a very different decor. An illusion maybe? But I think I would be able to tell, maybe. I’ve seen a lot of Rowan’s illusions, and this one is very realistic if it is one. Maybe mind magic, but that doesn’t work on me the way it works on others.“Hello,” a lady says brightly.She’s standing at the top of two little steps halfway into the room. There are glass-covered shelves behind her with pastries in them, and a long counter with a big till sitting on it. She has an apron on, and a clean dress on under that. She probably looks very ordinary, but I can’t help but notice the tentacles gently wrapped around her soul.It’s not one tentacle. It’s hundreds of them. Tiny ones, that are carefully wrapped around the lady’s bright warm soul.They’re hugging her.Somehow I find that a little disarming. Is there someone else here like me? The tentacles reach out behind her and just sort of stop in midair, as though they’re frayed apart. But new ones poke through reality and caress the soul again every few seconds.“We have excellent tea,” the lady continues. “And some really nice cakes.” she glances between Penelope and me, then blushes a little as she adds, “Cakes that are great for sharing.”I glance back and onto the street. There’s people out there, just walking by. It looks like we might be in one of the nicer parts of Skyhope, from the way they’re dressed.“Let’s play along,” Penelope whispers. She smiles up at the lady. “We’ll take some tea, and one of those cakes for sharing, please.”The lady nods and goes off, likely to prepare all of that. Penelope grabs me by the hand and starts leading me towards the quietest corner of the room. I think she’s in a plotting mood. I fully expect her to start telling me about what kind of trouble we’re in, but she stops mid-step, and I glance before her, finally noticing the other person in the room.She’s so short that I must have missed her behind one of the tables. It’s a girl, with a fancy purple dress. She’s looking up at me and Penelope, and I can’t help but stare at her eyes. They’re two black disks, with little dots in them. A field of stars, constantly spinning.Her soul is a mess of tentacles, small and large, writhing around like a loose banner on a windy day. Strangely, the soul feels like... a pamphlet. Some of her tentacles are reaching down to the paper things she’s holding in her hand, others to the same folded paper things on the table behind her.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.“Could I interest you in a pamphlet about hugs?” she asks.“A pamphlet about hugs?” Penelope asks.The girl nods. “Yes. Or one about why killing yourself, or allowing yourself to die after your purpose in life has ended, isn’t good.”“I think the one about hugs might be better,” Penelope says. She’s smiling with her lips, but I can feel the alarm around her. I reach out with a few tentacles and hug her soul, reminding her that I’m there.“That’s interesting,” the girl says. She raises an arm-no, a tentacle. An actual fleshy, non-soul meat-tentacle, and points to Penelope. “Are you hugging her with your essence?”“Yeah,” I say.Penelope shots me a look, but I have no idea why she looks so suddenly angry at me.The girl makes a wiggly gesture with her tentacle arm. “Does that feel nice?” She’s asking Penelope.Penelope seems even more alarmed now. “Yes? It’s, ah, nice and... it makes me feel safe and very close to Vita.”The girl nods, and a smaller tentacle slips out from under her dress to pick up a notebook from on the table. She grabs a small wax pencil, then starts to take notes. “Is this an intimate feeling?”“Pardon?” Penelope asks.She’s quick to hide her blush, but I can tell the question made her uncomfortable.“Why do you want to know that?” I ask.The girl shrugs. “My purpose in life right now is to make a pamphlet that helps people give better hugs, and understand why hugs and cuddles are good.”I nod. A noble goal.“How important would you rate the inclusion of tentacles in making a hug better?” she asks Penelope.Penelope takes a moment to answer. “I will admit that they do improve the overall hug experience,” she says.“Good, good,” the girl says. “Do you only use soul-tacles, or do you also use physical ones?”“Physical ones?” Penelope asks.The girl wiggles hers around.“No, we don’t use that,” Penelope says.“Do you wish that your partner had more tentacles? If so, how many more? What sort of tentacles do you wish your cuddlebuddy had?” the girl continues.“There’s more kinds of tentacles?” I ask.She nods while waving and making an ‘of course’ sort of gesture without looking up from her notes. “There’s lots. Metatentacles, pretentacles, the experimental hugtacles, timetacles, which show up sometimes even though we haven’t invented them yet.”“Pam, sweetie, don’t scare the customers,” the lady running the shop says as she comes down with a tray. She places it on one of the tables nearby, then sets out the mugs and a big slice of cake. “Please enjoy! Oh, and don’t worry if you’re not from this dimension, you’ll be right back home when you walk out.”“Thank you,” Penelope says. She glances at me, but I don’t understand any more than she does.
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