Toddrick "Foxy" Hunter
Episode One: My Name is Todd
July 22, 2017
By Darrel Vanwinkle (Lord Pouchlaw)
Chapter One
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A small cabin with garage along an unpaved county road in Northeastern Missouri.
.
Standing about five foot nine inches tall, the young Caucasian male with short foxy reddish brown hair and brown eyes was about to open the garage to see about getting his motor bike started when a minivan with Vermont plates stopped in front of his small cabin where upon the driver honked his horn as he was rolling down his window.
"Hey kid!" the slender male driver shouted. "Can you direct me to the closest motorcycle repair garage in this county? My bike broke down recently and I cannot find a service shop anywhere in this area!"
The teenager said, "You won't find one that services bikes, but I have that skill myself. I own a motorbike and if you don't mind an artist like me looking over your bike I can see about getting your ride running again. Just back your minivan into my driveway and I will open my garage and get my tools ready." He then turned to open his garage while the minivan driver pulled up a bit before backing his vehicle into the driveway and then getting out as he went to the rear and opened up the rear doors to pull out his motorcycle. The teenager waited for the slender man to wheel the motorcycle into the garage before he propped the bike up on his work bench and began to give the nice looking ride an examination. "What sort of sounds was it making when it broke down?"
The slender man with shoulder length brown hair tied in a pony tail replied, "Before the major conk out, the sounds were like zooga zooga cough cough zooga cough. Then it sounded like rahr rahr chicka chicka sproing cough ugh. I was hoping to get this fixed while I was in state; I would hate to drive home to Vermont to get my friend in Rhode Island to repair this for me. I would miss the Illinois track meet next week. If you could get my cycle running again, I could put in a good word for you with my friend in Rhode Island who owns a motorcycle sales and repair shop in the valley he owns. He was telling me just last month that he would like to hire a new mechanic for the garage. Would you be interested?"
The teenager smiled. "Are you kidding? Damned right I would be interested. Ever since I got my trade certificate in motorcycle repair, I've been trying to get hired into any cycle shop in my home region all to no avail. They think I am not old enough to have the experience necessary. I am nineteen with a trade school certificate in motorcycle mechanics and a minor art degree. No one will hire me even after I show them my legal certificate. And my art has only been purchased once by the county newspaper when I was asked to draw the county courthouse since they were about to renovate the old building to make a new county courthouse. They were not likely expecting my level of expertise when I submitted the final sketch."
Within the minivan, a second person whom had been laying down in a second row hide-a-bed sat up and was seen pulling his shirt on over his slightly chubby body. "Hey Maximilian? How come you didn't wake me when you stopped the van? I have to use the toilet." He slid open the side door and hopped up revealing that he wasn't just short and chubby but he was also of African American nature as well. After he hopped out of the minivan, he smiled at the teenager as he fumbled to put his glasses on his face. "Hiya handsome. Which way to the rest room. I promise I won't mess it up. Ricardo Decoonis. Financial consultant, at your service."
The teenager replied, "From the front door, its the hallway to the right as you cross the living room; the bedroom is at the end of the hall. The bathroom door is in the middle. You can admire my paintings after you finish your business in there. And ignore the buck deer head over the fireplace; my father bagged that one on a hunting trip years ago." He then turned to the slender man who was obviously Maximilian. "Since your friend accidentally gave me your name, I will tell you both my name. Theodore Richard (Toddrick) Hunter. And no, I don't come from a family of hunters; we get that silly question all the time. My father is a logger while my mother is a fabric factory worker. I ran away from home when I finished high school after I had an argument with my parents over my chosen occupation in life. Dad wanted me to become a logger like him; mom said I would have to earn money for extra training and dad's business would be good for that. They didn't know that I had already been accepted into a trade school up in this county. They weren't going to let me leave home originally. This hunting cabin belongs to my father, hence why I would love to get a job out of state so they couldn't accidentally find me living up here in the family deer hunting cabin. I've been lucky so far that my father hasn't had time to go hunting like he once would have in the past when I was younger. Sorry if I sound like I was rambling but I get that way when I talk about my background to new people. You said you had a friend in Rhode Island who owned a bike shop. I am very interested in that. What about yourself, Maximilian?"
Maximilian replied, "Corporate petroleum refinery chemist. In Vermont it is called the Fox Oil Refinery. We make gasoline, road tar and asphalt, motor products and wheels for all vehicles. My friend in Rhode Island has a discount with my company. So it is good business all around. The highway department is often making purchases from my company at affordable rates." He then shook hands with Toddrick. "Maximilian Fox. And yeah, I get as many jokes from another friend as you likely do for your surname. Ricardo prefers to be called Coony and I usually go by Maxi or Mack. If I had a bigger body and lifted weights, I could have called myself Big Mack." He winked with a deliberate smile after saying that.
He withheld that his biggest customers were dragons who liked to buy his oil not only in bulk but by wholesale as well. Dragons often paid well for refined oil.
Todd said, "After I get your cycle up and running, I could be packed and ready to go to Vermont within an hour. As I already told you, I don't own this cabin; my dad does. I am willing to relocate to find a job."
While the teenager worked on Maximilian's motorcycle, Coony finished up in the bathroom within the cabin. When he finished, he looked over the boy's artwork and paintings. "Man... this boy's eye for quality is great. I would love for him to come back to Vermont with us. Hopefully Maximilian can convince the boy to join us. I would even let the kid share my place. I know Max gets a little wild sometimes when he parties with Jason and Nick."
Coony pulled out his cellphone and activated a one button call to a colleague in Greenwich Village, New York City. "Hey Cypher, it's Coony. We're in Northern Missouri. Maxi's motorcycle broke down and we chanced upon a kid who is not only a mechanic but an artist as well. Let me show you some of this art with my camera phone." And he proceeded to show whomever Cypher was the professionally rendered paintings all with the signature of Todd. "Anyway, the boy is a natural. I would like to get this boy back to Vermont. He is living in the family deer hunting cabin but he wants to relocate to get a cycle mechanic job. No one locally will hire him. Do you think I can buy a magical suitcase spell from you to transport the boy's goods to my place in Vermont. Um... no, he isn't Aware; He is more of a Lost type of Norm. But just to get this art and his skills, I would be willing to take a chance with him. His full name is Theodore Richard (Toddrick) Hunter. He says he is not from a family of hunters; he thinks the question is rather silly. An artist of his quality is worth taking a chance on, Cypher. Will you help me when he chooses to pack his gear? Magical Camera Phone storage. Yeah, let's go with that."
.
End of Chapter One
Episode One: My Name is Todd
July 22, 2017
By Darrel Vanwinkle (Lord Pouchlaw)
Chapter One
.
A small cabin with garage along an unpaved county road in Northeastern Missouri.
.
Standing about five foot nine inches tall, the young Caucasian male with short foxy reddish brown hair and brown eyes was about to open the garage to see about getting his motor bike started when a minivan with Vermont plates stopped in front of his small cabin where upon the driver honked his horn as he was rolling down his window.
"Hey kid!" the slender male driver shouted. "Can you direct me to the closest motorcycle repair garage in this county? My bike broke down recently and I cannot find a service shop anywhere in this area!"
The teenager said, "You won't find one that services bikes, but I have that skill myself. I own a motorbike and if you don't mind an artist like me looking over your bike I can see about getting your ride running again. Just back your minivan into my driveway and I will open my garage and get my tools ready." He then turned to open his garage while the minivan driver pulled up a bit before backing his vehicle into the driveway and then getting out as he went to the rear and opened up the rear doors to pull out his motorcycle. The teenager waited for the slender man to wheel the motorcycle into the garage before he propped the bike up on his work bench and began to give the nice looking ride an examination. "What sort of sounds was it making when it broke down?"
The slender man with shoulder length brown hair tied in a pony tail replied, "Before the major conk out, the sounds were like zooga zooga cough cough zooga cough. Then it sounded like rahr rahr chicka chicka sproing cough ugh. I was hoping to get this fixed while I was in state; I would hate to drive home to Vermont to get my friend in Rhode Island to repair this for me. I would miss the Illinois track meet next week. If you could get my cycle running again, I could put in a good word for you with my friend in Rhode Island who owns a motorcycle sales and repair shop in the valley he owns. He was telling me just last month that he would like to hire a new mechanic for the garage. Would you be interested?"
The teenager smiled. "Are you kidding? Damned right I would be interested. Ever since I got my trade certificate in motorcycle repair, I've been trying to get hired into any cycle shop in my home region all to no avail. They think I am not old enough to have the experience necessary. I am nineteen with a trade school certificate in motorcycle mechanics and a minor art degree. No one will hire me even after I show them my legal certificate. And my art has only been purchased once by the county newspaper when I was asked to draw the county courthouse since they were about to renovate the old building to make a new county courthouse. They were not likely expecting my level of expertise when I submitted the final sketch."
Within the minivan, a second person whom had been laying down in a second row hide-a-bed sat up and was seen pulling his shirt on over his slightly chubby body. "Hey Maximilian? How come you didn't wake me when you stopped the van? I have to use the toilet." He slid open the side door and hopped up revealing that he wasn't just short and chubby but he was also of African American nature as well. After he hopped out of the minivan, he smiled at the teenager as he fumbled to put his glasses on his face. "Hiya handsome. Which way to the rest room. I promise I won't mess it up. Ricardo Decoonis. Financial consultant, at your service."
The teenager replied, "From the front door, its the hallway to the right as you cross the living room; the bedroom is at the end of the hall. The bathroom door is in the middle. You can admire my paintings after you finish your business in there. And ignore the buck deer head over the fireplace; my father bagged that one on a hunting trip years ago." He then turned to the slender man who was obviously Maximilian. "Since your friend accidentally gave me your name, I will tell you both my name. Theodore Richard (Toddrick) Hunter. And no, I don't come from a family of hunters; we get that silly question all the time. My father is a logger while my mother is a fabric factory worker. I ran away from home when I finished high school after I had an argument with my parents over my chosen occupation in life. Dad wanted me to become a logger like him; mom said I would have to earn money for extra training and dad's business would be good for that. They didn't know that I had already been accepted into a trade school up in this county. They weren't going to let me leave home originally. This hunting cabin belongs to my father, hence why I would love to get a job out of state so they couldn't accidentally find me living up here in the family deer hunting cabin. I've been lucky so far that my father hasn't had time to go hunting like he once would have in the past when I was younger. Sorry if I sound like I was rambling but I get that way when I talk about my background to new people. You said you had a friend in Rhode Island who owned a bike shop. I am very interested in that. What about yourself, Maximilian?"
Maximilian replied, "Corporate petroleum refinery chemist. In Vermont it is called the Fox Oil Refinery. We make gasoline, road tar and asphalt, motor products and wheels for all vehicles. My friend in Rhode Island has a discount with my company. So it is good business all around. The highway department is often making purchases from my company at affordable rates." He then shook hands with Toddrick. "Maximilian Fox. And yeah, I get as many jokes from another friend as you likely do for your surname. Ricardo prefers to be called Coony and I usually go by Maxi or Mack. If I had a bigger body and lifted weights, I could have called myself Big Mack." He winked with a deliberate smile after saying that.
He withheld that his biggest customers were dragons who liked to buy his oil not only in bulk but by wholesale as well. Dragons often paid well for refined oil.
Todd said, "After I get your cycle up and running, I could be packed and ready to go to Vermont within an hour. As I already told you, I don't own this cabin; my dad does. I am willing to relocate to find a job."
While the teenager worked on Maximilian's motorcycle, Coony finished up in the bathroom within the cabin. When he finished, he looked over the boy's artwork and paintings. "Man... this boy's eye for quality is great. I would love for him to come back to Vermont with us. Hopefully Maximilian can convince the boy to join us. I would even let the kid share my place. I know Max gets a little wild sometimes when he parties with Jason and Nick."
Coony pulled out his cellphone and activated a one button call to a colleague in Greenwich Village, New York City. "Hey Cypher, it's Coony. We're in Northern Missouri. Maxi's motorcycle broke down and we chanced upon a kid who is not only a mechanic but an artist as well. Let me show you some of this art with my camera phone." And he proceeded to show whomever Cypher was the professionally rendered paintings all with the signature of Todd. "Anyway, the boy is a natural. I would like to get this boy back to Vermont. He is living in the family deer hunting cabin but he wants to relocate to get a cycle mechanic job. No one locally will hire him. Do you think I can buy a magical suitcase spell from you to transport the boy's goods to my place in Vermont. Um... no, he isn't Aware; He is more of a Lost type of Norm. But just to get this art and his skills, I would be willing to take a chance with him. His full name is Theodore Richard (Toddrick) Hunter. He says he is not from a family of hunters; he thinks the question is rather silly. An artist of his quality is worth taking a chance on, Cypher. Will you help me when he chooses to pack his gear? Magical Camera Phone storage. Yeah, let's go with that."
.
End of Chapter One
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