Morning

	Foster's done it this time...  Laughter is with child.  I warned
them both - they'd better not say that they weren't forewarned - and, as
usual, I was ignored.  Then they have the nerve to get angry at ME.  I
wasn't the one that did anything.  I didn't do anything wrong, and I'm the
one they both yell at, or dislike, or something like that.  Admittedly, my
little discussion with Foster could have gone better.  By the end of it,
I'd like to think that I cut him an awful lot of slack.  I try to be nice,
and he gets angry at me.  I refuse to take responsibility for this.  This
is not my fault.  There have been times that I've thought that my
parenting has been the cause of Foster's...um..."unique" take on life.
These times are generally very frustrating, and I usually blame myself for
his shortcomings.  This is not one of those times.  He got himself into
this.  Laughter as well.  Let them have children, if that is what they
want.  Fine.  I don't care.  Not like it would matter if I did care.  He
never pays me any heed.  So what if I'll be a grandfather before I turn
thirty-five?  If it doesn't bother them, it certainly won't bother me. 
And they get to break it to my mother - she was upset enough when I showed
up with a twelve-year-old...or rather my twelve-year-old showed up.  Now
she's a great-grandmother, and Foster gets to tell her.  Serves him right,
the little shit.

	Damn that boy...  I broke my hand, and it's all his fault.  Mum
asked me what happened, but I'm going to let Foster explain it.  Da asked
too, but I skillfully evaded his questions.  I think he was a little upset
though - I interrupted his afternoon sailing with Caine.  He set the bones
and dropped the matter.  I'm not sure if he'll bring it up again or if he
forgot about it...the latter I hope.  Got to clean up the mess I made - I
wish other messes would disappear so easily.

Evening

	Laughter Trumped me - wanted me to deal with my son.  She wanted
to go talk her father about the whole matter...whom I now know is Mandor.
The matter becomes more complicated with each passing minute.  My presence
didn't dissuade Foster any.  She wanted to talk to Mandor, he wanted to go
along.  I let him.  Laughter Trumped me again - "That wasn't the idea,
Felix.  You were supposed to get him to stay there."  There she went,
getting angry at me again.  So I came through to her, to keep my son in
check, only to find myself in Chaos.  It's about this time that I figured
out who Laughter's father was.  I considered this a most awkward
situation, and Mandor seemed content to let him remain, so I Trumped Eric
and left - mainly because Eric has spent the last several years in Chaos,
and he was the only relative whose Trump I thought I could get working... 
no need to look like even more of an arse before the Crown Prince of
Chaos.

	Spent several hours drinking with Eric - talked briefly about what
was going on now, but reminisced mostly.  Had several short Trump
conversations with Martin, Laughter, and Foster, all regarding Sequence. 
Didn't care about those.  I didn't even pay attention to them.

	Fell asleep, and woke up in Arden...or someplace like Arden. 
Walked to town, surprised to see the old castle still standing.  "Felix,
something is very wrong," I thought to m'self.  Trumped Da, he was OK.  He
was worried about Mum, so he said he was going to check up on her and get
back to me.  I entered the castle - got a few strange looks, but no one
stopped me.  Everything looked much older, but I asked a page for today's
date, which he gave me...it was as it should have been...  The hall of
portraits offered some interesting discoveries...  Eric's was most
prominent, and several were missing...and I was clean-shaven.  Looked
almost as if Eric had never lost the throne.  I find myself curious about
that...  I'm sort of curious to see how things might have turned out...  I
may go back at some time...just to see.

	Went to "my room"...close again, but not quite.  Trumped Da again,
and came home.  Seems the Pattern has been turned off, and whatever
happened, it only happened to those of us who'd walked it, so Mum and Viv
were fine.  Tried to Trump Foster, but couldn't...took several of us to
get through to him.  He was fighting a dragon, and as we pulled him
through, he got his legs bitten off.  I think I distracted him...my son
has no legs...and I think it's my fault.  Damn him.

	I Trumped Da, but by that time Ariana had arrived and had tended
to Foster's wounds.  I'm not sure quite what she did, but it stopped the
bleeding, and I'm grateful for even that.  Laughter didn't take any of
this very well.  I'm going to wait 'til he wakes.

	Foster screamed when he woke up...  I imagine that I'd have much
the same reaction.