Friday, August 2, 2013
If you asked Koy if she had any special powers she would flatly answer about her uncanny ability to create spaces that beckoned the elderly to loiter in day in and day out. At her shop she hosted the three old biddies, a trio of stately gossips who dictated New Haven societal policy and traded in juicy secrets. Their presence had become such a staple at the Heavenly Boutique that Koy had long stopped thinking anything of it. It wasn't until the recent installation of two new flat screens at the Welcome Center, a donation from XAVIER Sporting Goods Store to provide live streaming of the Hydra Cup (and drum up business for said sporting store with the various commercials that aired in between reports from Hydra Sports Network News), that Koy recognized the senior citizen phenomenon.
After the first week of the tournament Koy realized that she was starting to recognize several of the faces gathering daily around the screens. The majority of people that visited the Center often did so only long enough to get help finding a job, securing interim housing until they could afford something more spacious, and occasionally for discovering new activities within the city to enjoy. These familiar faces that chose to stick around the Center were mostly male and often falling on the hair spectrum between grey and bald. There were still new faces mixing in with the returning crowd, some timidly watching the proceedings as they tried to wrap their heads around this new world they entered and others inserting themselves immediately as if they had lived in RhyDin for years. "The Gripe Men," as Koy had affectionately dubbed them to their faces, loved nothing more than to educate these new immigrants about everything that went wrong in both the city and the duels.
As long as they cleaned up after themselves and didn't physically threaten each other beyond a little friendly roughhousing, Koy let the Gripe Men enjoy their daily rituals at the Welcome Center. Despite her own gripes about how easily she attracted opinionated seniors wherever she worked she loved having them around. It gave the Center a lively buzz, a stable social environment filled with local color that embraced anyone who entered its doors and wanted to shoot the breeze. It also created its own small contribution to the city's economy as the daily crowd drew in several food vendors who put the Center on their usual routes throughout the day. Their carts boasted a range from hot dogs, falafels and burgers to the spiced rice bowls common to Mount Yasuo, the lobster rolls that came in through Dockside and the even more exotic but cheap off-world dishes, all ready to feed the Gripe Men and their changing company.
Franklin, the tallest of the Gripe Men due to the mix of giant in his bloodline, returned into the cooler air inside the Center, his thick arms filled with the paper cups of ale and lemonade it was his turn to by from one of the carts outside. The care with which he carried the cups, appearing particularly small given Franklin's size, led to a fresh round of heckling from the other men gathered around the screen and greedily snatching at the drinks. Franklin made a big production of shaking off the ale that had spilled onto his hands and grumbled. He glanced up at the flat screens and grinned when he saw a new target to unleash his friends on to divert their jibes.
"Hey, Simon! Ain't that your husband?" Franklin pointed a stubby finger at the screen where the Hydra Sports Network played a packaged piece featuring Matt Simon, the words "Captain Futility" splashed in the chyron below his image. A chorus of rowdy laughter and a few wheezes erupted from the group.
Koy, accustomed now to only being addressed by her last name when around the Gripe Men, looked up from the dense and particularly boring book of zoning regulations she was reviewing to check the screen. She smirked. So many years spent in the brash rings of the Outback made for thick skin used to teasing. "Aye, tha's 'em all right. Jest call me Mrs. Futility. Or mebbe I should hyphenate it, Mrs. VanDuran-Futility. Wha do ye think?"
Franklin snickered. "I think Mrs. Futility is fitting. You're not much use in a Hydra Cup outside the Outback."
Koy click-clacked her way closer to the group, Franklin in particular. "I couldn't 'gree with ye more. Tha's why I've relegated myself ta head cheerleader fer Team Hydra. Fer 'xample, I've taken ta only wearin' white and red undergarments in different designs fer the course of the tournament. Why ye should see this one set of panties I've got with these lil bows and lacy---" Franklin tried to hide the embarrassed flush to his face. This was one of the few subjects he neither wanted to gripe about nor discuss with the woman running the Welcome Center.
Having achieved her desired effect, Koy grinned and leaned over Franklin, a sultriness to her tone she put on to further his discomfort. "We all find ways ta be useful. Now ye know mine." She plucked a remaining paper cup of beer out of his arms and resumed speaking normally, "and I know yers involves waitin' on all us good people here." This earned several howls of laughter from the crowd and returned the rest of the Gripe Men to their initial joking at Franklin's expense as Koy carried her beer back to the front office.
If you asked Koy if she had any special powers she would flatly answer about her uncanny ability to create spaces that beckoned the elderly to loiter in day in and day out. At her shop she hosted the three old biddies, a trio of stately gossips who dictated New Haven societal policy and traded in juicy secrets. Their presence had become such a staple at the Heavenly Boutique that Koy had long stopped thinking anything of it. It wasn't until the recent installation of two new flat screens at the Welcome Center, a donation from XAVIER Sporting Goods Store to provide live streaming of the Hydra Cup (and drum up business for said sporting store with the various commercials that aired in between reports from Hydra Sports Network News), that Koy recognized the senior citizen phenomenon.
After the first week of the tournament Koy realized that she was starting to recognize several of the faces gathering daily around the screens. The majority of people that visited the Center often did so only long enough to get help finding a job, securing interim housing until they could afford something more spacious, and occasionally for discovering new activities within the city to enjoy. These familiar faces that chose to stick around the Center were mostly male and often falling on the hair spectrum between grey and bald. There were still new faces mixing in with the returning crowd, some timidly watching the proceedings as they tried to wrap their heads around this new world they entered and others inserting themselves immediately as if they had lived in RhyDin for years. "The Gripe Men," as Koy had affectionately dubbed them to their faces, loved nothing more than to educate these new immigrants about everything that went wrong in both the city and the duels.
As long as they cleaned up after themselves and didn't physically threaten each other beyond a little friendly roughhousing, Koy let the Gripe Men enjoy their daily rituals at the Welcome Center. Despite her own gripes about how easily she attracted opinionated seniors wherever she worked she loved having them around. It gave the Center a lively buzz, a stable social environment filled with local color that embraced anyone who entered its doors and wanted to shoot the breeze. It also created its own small contribution to the city's economy as the daily crowd drew in several food vendors who put the Center on their usual routes throughout the day. Their carts boasted a range from hot dogs, falafels and burgers to the spiced rice bowls common to Mount Yasuo, the lobster rolls that came in through Dockside and the even more exotic but cheap off-world dishes, all ready to feed the Gripe Men and their changing company.
Franklin, the tallest of the Gripe Men due to the mix of giant in his bloodline, returned into the cooler air inside the Center, his thick arms filled with the paper cups of ale and lemonade it was his turn to by from one of the carts outside. The care with which he carried the cups, appearing particularly small given Franklin's size, led to a fresh round of heckling from the other men gathered around the screen and greedily snatching at the drinks. Franklin made a big production of shaking off the ale that had spilled onto his hands and grumbled. He glanced up at the flat screens and grinned when he saw a new target to unleash his friends on to divert their jibes.
"Hey, Simon! Ain't that your husband?" Franklin pointed a stubby finger at the screen where the Hydra Sports Network played a packaged piece featuring Matt Simon, the words "Captain Futility" splashed in the chyron below his image. A chorus of rowdy laughter and a few wheezes erupted from the group.
Koy, accustomed now to only being addressed by her last name when around the Gripe Men, looked up from the dense and particularly boring book of zoning regulations she was reviewing to check the screen. She smirked. So many years spent in the brash rings of the Outback made for thick skin used to teasing. "Aye, tha's 'em all right. Jest call me Mrs. Futility. Or mebbe I should hyphenate it, Mrs. VanDuran-Futility. Wha do ye think?"
Franklin snickered. "I think Mrs. Futility is fitting. You're not much use in a Hydra Cup outside the Outback."
Koy click-clacked her way closer to the group, Franklin in particular. "I couldn't 'gree with ye more. Tha's why I've relegated myself ta head cheerleader fer Team Hydra. Fer 'xample, I've taken ta only wearin' white and red undergarments in different designs fer the course of the tournament. Why ye should see this one set of panties I've got with these lil bows and lacy---" Franklin tried to hide the embarrassed flush to his face. This was one of the few subjects he neither wanted to gripe about nor discuss with the woman running the Welcome Center.
Having achieved her desired effect, Koy grinned and leaned over Franklin, a sultriness to her tone she put on to further his discomfort. "We all find ways ta be useful. Now ye know mine." She plucked a remaining paper cup of beer out of his arms and resumed speaking normally, "and I know yers involves waitin' on all us good people here." This earned several howls of laughter from the crowd and returned the rest of the Gripe Men to their initial joking at Franklin's expense as Koy carried her beer back to the front office.