The story thus far...
Grace and Simon, two teenage tearaways, have managed to lock themselves in a derelict theatre in Reality (they live in Allegory), by entering a box or cabinet of some sort in the basement of The tré (Otterstow's small theatre). Ignatius (the mayor) suspects this is the case and has enlisted the aid of the parents (Slide, Sandra, Pete and Gina). They have been unable to open the box as of yet and Ignatius is trying to find out if they can legally enlist the aid of others who might be able to and if it is legal to even enter Reality.
What's going on right now:
Liza PrIgel was a friend with Ignatius' parents. Thus, Ignatius feels they (his parents) may have mentioned to Liza how to open the cabinet in the basement of The tré. He wants to make a trip to Trinova to ask her about it. Pete and Sandra insist, very sensibly, that they call her (Liza) immediately. In response, Ignatius summons Johnny PrIgel, Liza's son, who still lives in Otterstow. Johnny explains that his mother does not take telephone calls, even from her own children. Nor does she have a rover. He is now explaining this behaviour.
About the page...
As mentioned in the previous page, a rover is a mobile communications device. For the purposes of this story, it only does text - no voice. That might change in the future.
Johnny's mother, Liza, has apparently had it up to here with her kids calling only when they need something.
Although I sort of recycled the rover, I didn't have any talking heads. The note on the cheque, by the way, says "Bail Money".
Drawing completed - 17 NOV 2010
Black Kettle Pub
"I can understand not doing rovers, but she doesn't do phones?" asked Sandra, incredulous.
"That's right. See, Mum had the eight of us - and she sorta got put off with all of us ringin' her up allatime, 'cause all we ever asked for was money, or to put us up for a while or to mind our sprogs for a fortnight or to . . . "
"All right, all right, I get the picture," Sandra interrupted.
"So, she tells us, either come by in person, if it's so damned important, or drop a card in the post. And if she don't get a card on her birthday, every single year, then we're out of the will. Will there be anythin' else Yer Honour?"
"No, thank you, Johnny," Ignatius answered.
"So we're agreed?" asked Ignatius.
There was a general mumble of assent, but nothing definite in terms of disagreement.