fandomtownies | Groovy Tunes, Tuesday

Steven had a spare moment in the chaos that was his life so he decided to stop by the store on the odd chance someone there could help him with an item on his to do list.

"Hello? Anyone about?"

Rosa clicked her tongue and waved her fingers. "Hey." She closed her laptop and sat up, her papi's lectures about customer service ringing in her head. "Welcome to Groovy Tunes. What can I get you?"

"Hello." Steven waved as he came over. "Er, recommendations? Hopefully? I'm in need of new music to share only I'm fresh out of anything to suggest. I'm Steven, by the way. With a V."

"Hey Steven with a V," Rosa said. "I'm Rosa. The cool artist one, not the PI one." Since they were getting specific and all. "And sure, we can find you something. What kind of stuff have you already been listening to?"

"I know - um - of the PI one, so yes you do look different," Steven said. He'd never met the other Rosa himself but Marc had on several occasions so it sort of counted. "And it's more type? You see I've a friend over in Egypt. She sends me what she thinks I haven't heard before and I do the same in return. It's usually something local? I suppose you could say? So I thought maybe things that were new and American, since I've moved here and all."

Rosa nodded slowly. "Okay, I get you. Sort of a international game of music one-ups-manship. Though . . . I mostly listen to 90s stuff -- and, um. Was kind of dead for a decade? So I might not be the most help with the 'new' part."

She'd jumped in and told Dwight about being dead, so she figured she might as well just start breaking that ice right away, from now on.

Steven's eyebrows quirked up. "A whole decade? What was that like? I was only gone for about a few hours myself. Felt longer, obviously, but not as much time in the real world."

"You mean while I was dead?" Rosa asked. "Um. No idea. Far as I can remember, I was in a cave working on an art piece, then things got fuzzy, and then I was in a different cave with a dead alien and my younger sister was nine years older than me. Why, what was it like for you?"

"I went to the afterlife," Steven said. Then corrected himself, "An afterlife. I've been told there are several. Egyptian, in my case. Had my heart measured against the feather of truth and everything. But nothing? For ten years? That's - I mean that's rude, is what it is. What god's in charge of that where you are? Bit of a loafer if you ask me."

Rosa scowled faintly. She might be a cynic with an attitude problem, but she was also a devout Catholic. "Yeah, wel, maybe He wants to keep some surprises for us after we die the last time," she said. ". . . Or maybe it was the whole 'alien stasis pod' thing. Could probably go either way."

Steven was Jewish, which Rosa might guess if she noticed the Star of David necklace which sometimes peeked out from under his shirt collar, but that didn't mean he wouldn't slag off on other gods if he felt they weren't earning any respect.

Still, he could pick up on grammar. "Only one god on your world then? Not like that where I'm from. Wait - stasis pod?"

Well sure. The Jewish faith had a very different approach to the Almighty than the Catholics did.

Rosa decided aliens were a safer topic than God either way.

"Stasis pod," she said, nodding. "I was murdered by an alien, who shoved me into one, and then when another alien found me later he brought me back to life. Which killed him so we put him in the pod and then my genius bioengineer sister and surgeon half-brother brought him back. . . . It was like a big happy circle of alien life."

Steven nodded as he followed along. "All right. Completely different from my experience then. Marc and I were killed by a human - well, avatar, but still human. I mean he used a gun so hardly matters. Afterlife, met Taweret, had to get our scales balanced, Osiris was a bit of a mate at the end there, and back on Earth again. So you've had aliens invade on your world as well?"

"Less 'invade' and more 'crashland and then stumble around like idiots'," Rosa said. "You heard of Roswell, New Mexico? The crash in 1947?"

Steven snapped his fingers excitedly, because he had. "That's related to things like Area 51, yeah? We've had that on my world as well. Well, stories. Never been. Area 51 or New Mexico."

"Yeah, well . . . in my world, those stories are true." Rosa spread her hands with a little rueful smile. "The crash, the coverup, all of it. And what most people don't know is that those aliens had a bunch of kids with them, tucked into these stasis pods for safety, and fifty years after the crash, those kids came crawling out. And are now fine, upstanding citizens of New Mexico." She snorted. "Well, Michael's not really upstanding, but he's decent enough."

"Sounds like Marc," Steven said. "Pain in the arse at times but wouldn't trade him even if it were possible. So you were one of those children then? Or are these friends of yours?"

"Oh yeah, no, these guys were, like, our classmates. I mean, one of them is probably going to be my brother-in-law soon -- he even asked Papi for our abuela's ring and everything -- but before the whole 'murdered and resurrected' thing the most alien thing about me was my love for 90s alt-rock."

Steven smiled again as she spoke. He briefly switched to Spanish to say, "Another thing we have in common, better than dying, yes?" Notably his accent wasn't European, in spite of his normal speaking voice being British.

Back on English, he said, "That's lovely. Congratulations to your family. And I don't know how much of that music she's ever heard so it's a place to start."

Rosa smiled at the switch to Spanish, though she had no idea where that accent came from. He just didn't sound like where her parents had come from. "Thanks. I'll have to see if he's actually proposed yet. He's one of those poet types, has to get everything perfect." She rolled her eyes, as though she didn't have her own bouts with the demon Perfectionism. "But, let's see. . . . I'd start with Counting Crows. They're one of my all time favorites, especially their early stuff." She hopped up and headed to the racks of records, flipping through until she pulled out a particular album. "This is their first one. Loads of good tracks, but my favorite is 'Murder of One'." She smiled. "Get it? Counting crows?"

Appreciate the pun, Steven.

Oh Steven very much appreciated a pun.

"If you don't count enough crows is it attempted murder?" he replied, grinning quite proudly.

Rosa snorted, wrinkling her nose. “That’s terrible. Papi’s gonna love it.”

Her father ran a diner full of alien themed puns. The Ortechos could absolutely rock the word play.

“If your friend knows that one, let me know. I love a good challenge.”

Well Rosa had effectively made a fast friend because giving and appreciating good puns was one of the swiftest ways to endear yourself to Steven. "I will, cheers. And these are online as well, yeah? She moves around a bit for her job so electronic is easier."

"Oh yeah, totally. It's just, you know, kind of weird to work at a music store and be like 'so here's a spotify link'."

"No, no, obviously," Steven said. "I'll take the album as well. Only fair, you being so helpful. And even if she doesn't like it that'll only mean I'll have to come back so we can try harder, yeah?"

“That’s the spirit!” Rosa headed back for the counter. “I’ll even give you a discount. For liking puns.”

"Well then I will not discount your generous nature," Steven replied, with a small flourish of his hand to highlight the pun, as puns did deserve.

“Oh my god,” Rosa said on a laugh. “You are such a dork!”

"Got the joke though," Steven pointed out with a smile. "Saw you. Too late to hide it."

“Hey, you hear about the genius sister and surgeon brother. Dorks are very welcome to us Ortechos.”

"Good to hear," Steven said. "I mean won't lie, little disappointed that wasn't the setup for something like hear the one about the genius sister and surgeon brother who walked into a bar? Both said 'ouch.' But still nice to be welcome all the same."

“Ahhhh, alas, I am not the brains of the family. I’m more the pun appreciator than the pun creator.”

"Ah, don't say it like it's a bad thing," Steven said. "We need those who appreciate puns or else then what? Not puns at all, then. Just words being said. No fun in that at all, is there?"

"None at all," Rosa agreed with a wry smirk. "I guess I'm happy to be of service, then."

"Cheers," Steven said. "You know if you like you should stop by the museum sometime. Don't have Counting Crows but do have beautiful butterflies, fascinating fish, amazing art, and...."

Steven trailed off, drumming his fingers thoughtfully against the counter. "I can't think of something for history. I mean happy or horrible are right there but they're both a bit strong. Anyway I work Thursdays if you're ever interested."

"Hypothetical history?" Rosa proposed. "Hilarious history. Hardcore history." She shook her head. "That could be cool, though. My friend Dallas has been telling me I need to get out more around town, and that sounds like a good place to do it."

"It's open most days," Steven said. "But if you come on a day besides Thursdays I cannot promise there will be puns. So bear that in mind as fair warning."

"Oh, well. If there aren't any puns why would I even bother?" Rosa said with a laugh. "And, hey, if you're ever make it out to Roswell, be sure to check out the Crashdown Cafe. It's my family's place. Everyone loves our space jam!"

"Oh that's a good one," Steven said. "I like that. One of your dad's as well?"

"Yup!" Rosa said. "We also have flying saucer cakes, a Neptuna melt, crater tots, the Roddenberry shake. . . . Basically every menu item is some kind of pun. You'll love it."

"Oh no well then I'll have to come visit then, won't I?" Steven said. "Not when there's crater tots. That's pulling out the big guns there, that is."

"I thought that might tempt you," Rosa said with a laugh. "I'll let you know next time I'm heading down for a visit, maybe you can tag along."

She'd known him all of ten minutes and she was already inviting him home. The bonding power of puns.

Never discount the bonding power of puns. Steven certainly didn't.

"I may take you up on that, cheers," Steven said. "You're welcome back to London as well. Though I must warn you that they are light on puns and heavy on bone dry irony. We may need to smuggle some wordplay past customs if you're up for it."

"Well, I mean, irony is not not in my wheelhouse," Rosa said. "But so is bucking the system, and I've never tried to smuggle anything through customs before. Could be fun!"

"There we are then," Steven said. "Right, let me get out of your hair. Thank you for this. I'll let you know how she liked it."

"Cool." Rosa nodded and rocked on her heels. "Nice meeting you, Steven."

"Likewise, Rosa," Steven said as he headed off.

Groovy Tunes, Tuesday

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