old stand bios

Name: Kassidy "Cookies" Maldonado

Appearance: Age - 15, Hair- Black, Eyes - Green, Complexion - Light Tan, Height - 5'9", Weight - 125lbs, Clothing - Girl Scout Uniform, black leather trench coat, combat boots

Place of origin: Born - La Jolla, CA. Moved to Seattle a year ago. (Ballard)

Occupation: Like, no one has an occupation anymore. Du-uh! But I was like the Girl Scout Cookie Sales Champion of the World. Twice. I'll probably win by default this year. Want to buy some cookies? You know you want them. And only I know where they are now.

Mode of transportation: Schwinn Retro bicycle, Kiddie Rider on the back

Items being carried: sign up ledgers, warehouse keys, address lists, 1 person tent, canned goods, bottled water, mess kit, spot sell boxes, Beretta 9mm in a shoulder rig, extra ammo, 25' mylar, 50' rope, starter kit, leather oil & polish, baseball bat, baseball glove, balls, change of clothes, environmentally friendly beauty products (cuz you gotta have hope)

History: Ma and da were always on 'bout th'Pocalypse. They don't gotta worry about it now, though. They're in Heaven. I guess they were right about all those things I shouldn'ta done...'cause I'm still alive, and it's Hell on Earth time. I was sad at first, but at least they don't have to see their world fall apart...that'd be pretty hard. I'm still getting used to things, so maybe it's best that I lived and they died. Kids'll have a better chance of building something new and lasting since we'll adapt better to th'environment forced upon us. We were like learning about that in biology, how things like adapt to the changes around them. Like these crazy moths in England that used to be white, then the industrial revolution happened and they like turned black and now that its over they're like white again since there's less coal soot there. So we'll change to fit the times. Not everything's gotta change. Maybe we'll bring some of the old good things with us, too. Like baseball. And cookies. Not everything has ta change.

I grew up in San Diego. Ma was Mexican. Da was Irish. Both were Catholic, and I guess I am too. Baptized an everything. They did their best to raise me right - after school programs, sports, the Scouts, things like that. We all did pretty well until the whole hormones thing started happening and I got ta be a bit more of a handful. I think they hated me just a little for awhile there. I think I hated them, too...just for a little while. Then I wasn't growing as fast, things seemed to make more sense to me, and we started getting along again. We moved to Seattle last year - ma got a better job up here, da transferred with his company and it was good timing for me since some of the people I used to run with were heading to a bad place. I bet most of them lived, too.

The move North was a clean start for me. Things were looking up. Now it is a really, really clean start. I want things to be better than they were. I don't know where to start, though. Especially with some of the crazy folk that have been left behind. Sometimes I think it really might be Hell. I don't know where to start rebuilding. But according to this neon little flyer, someone does. We'll see what he has to say up at the needle. If it sounds good, I guess I'll go. If it sounds like bullshit, then I guess I'll stay. It'll put that camping merit badge to the test, for sure. Either way, I'll miss having an Uli's down at Pike Place. Just another memory.

I made some new merit badges for this...um...crazy period. Before people can get things running again. The other day I made my Looting merit badge when I had to get food from the market. There had been some people there getting meat. The died the other day, but it didn't look like they had the flu. I got canned and preserved goods. Nothing fresh except some raisins, if they count, and one apple that looked ok. The meat smelled bad. I guess they don't get their badge since they're dead. I'm glad we had all of the camping gear in the house, still. There was a lot of shooting over there by Outdoor World, and I don't want to test out that First Aid merit badge, thanks. Oh, I also made a grave digging merit badge. I read that they're supposed to be six feet deep. That took a long time. I put ma and da in separate boxes, but I couldn't lift them. So I found one big box and put it in the hole and then slid them in together. Now they get to sleep like that forever. Kinda gross, but I think they wouldn't mind. Filling it all in was a lot easier, but it was like there wasn't enough dirt to fill the hole back up, like a bunch blew away. Or ran off during the rain. So I used some potting soil and put some flower seeds in. I put their spare desk nameplates on their headboard, since those'll last ok in the weather.

This is like the worst week ever.

zorgoz 16 years ago
Name:Rudy Tabootie
Appearance: A boy no older than 10 whose skin is so bright and shiny that he almost looks animated. He has long brown hair, and eyes that are unusually small for his face, and ears that are unusually big. He weighs about 70 lbs, white skin, and has big front teeth that stick out of his mouth.
Place of origin: Denver
Occupation: Chalk artist
Mode of transportation:a bike with training wheels.
Items being carried: A big box full of chalk, all white. A frying pan full of eternally hot bacon; can be used as a weapon, size 11 shoes, 6 sizes too big for his feet.
History: Born in Denver, then moved to Hollywood with his family. Starred in his own TV show called Chalkzone. After being treated as an outcast for starring in the stupidest show ever to air while living in Hollywood, Rudy decided to runaway from his family and move to Seattle at the end of 2003.
Den 16 years ago
Name: Friday Fontayne
Appearance: 5'10"
Place of origin: Moved up from San Francisco five years ago, but has lived on Queen Anne Hill since then.
Occupation: Stipper
Mode of transportation: Drives a 1969 Chevy Camero

Items being carried: In her purse she carries her Sony Erickson cell phone, her wallet with cash, credit cards, and pictures of her seven nieces (no nephews yet), as well as her two sisters and one brother. Her cosmetic bag contains a tube of preperation H for her eyes when she comes to work with a hangover, a couple tubes of lipstick by MAC, eye shadow by Bobbi Brown, mascara by Maybelline, concealor by Chanel, and assorted bobby pins, make up brushes, and a small atomizer filled with Woman cologne by Jovan. She also has a hair brush, tooth brush, tooth paste, lip gloss, phone book, business cards in a silver plated holder, nail polish, anti-bacterial hand wipes, car/house keys, gum, mints, loose change, pill box, cuticle scissors, and sunglasses.

History: Friday was born Freida Fontleman, thirty years ago, to Marvin and Helen Fontleman. She was the youngest of four kids, and lived at home until she was twenty five years old. After graduating high school Freida went on to study dance at the University of Washington in Seattle, on a scholarship. She planned on teaching, but to put herself through school she got a job stripping at a local Seattle hot spot, and began making money faster than she ever dreamed possible. She dropped out of college after her second year, and never regretted a minute. She continued living at home, putting money away, and didn't get her own place till both her parents moved to Florida.
She met and was living with Mike the bartender for the past four years, but when he went home to take care of his ailing father, he decided to stay in Colorado. Friday has been on her own again since.
Ashmore 16 years ago
Name: Jack Talley

Appearance: 5ft 8; athletic build; blonde wavy hair

Place of origin: Texas born but currently lives in Tacoma WA.

Occupation: Minor league baseball player
Tacoma Rainiers (AAA)

Mode of transportation: Suzuki GS500

Items being carried: Always on his person a necklace his mother gave him. It's a simple necklace which has some diamond patterns on a gold chain. He never knew how she got it, just that it was hers. By keeping with him, makes him feel better about himself and other. Jack likes to keep baseball bats near him at all times. He modified a bike bag to accommodate his weighted baseball bat. This bat is never too far out of reach. Always wearing a baseball cap of some type. During his down time Jack likes to spend time helping at soup kitchens or homeless shelters.

History: Jack is an only child born and raised in a small town in Texas. He started playing baseball when he was 5 years old and has loved it ever since. Though he wanted to stay and play in Texas, the minor league affiliate of the Seattle Mainers drafted him in the 3rd round 2 years ago. He has been slowly making his way up the food chain and really feels the call to the majors is coming soon. Having lived in Seattle for only 2 years his favorite place is the space needle and when not at practice or on the road he can usually be found wondering around there. At the top observation point he likes to close his eyes and feel the wind against his face.

In his apartment he has framed some other bats of his. 1st home run bat, 1st Championship bat and a assortment of practice bats. He also has two 75 gallon tanks, one salt water and the other is a fresh water. The salt water tank has several fish including his favorite type, yellow tangs. The fresh water tank only has gold fish, where he affectionately named one of them Ralph.
ROzbeans 16 years ago
Ye old placeholder ~

Name: Kyle Evans
Appearance: 6'2, black short hair, slightly tanned skin, bright blue eyes. He has a very slender frame which he covers with button up pressed shirts, a loose tie and matching slacks. He is a perpetual squinter and is a conspiracy theorist.
Place of origin: (note: This will be taking place in the Seattle area in the beginning so where ever you are from, you should currently be living or have some reason to be in or around Seattle ) Kyle is originally from Las Vegas and then relocated east to Nachton. After a few eye opening incidents that involved his theories to be correct, he headed West to Seattle to write for the Seattle PI.
Occupation: Reporter
Mode of transportation: A yellow cab he found with a full tank of gas and the keys still in it.
Items being carried: A handful of PDA batteries, 1 PDA, a prescription bottle containing little yellow pills, a dead cell phone with a large smiley face and poison control yucky face stickers.
History: Kyle can't catch a break. Ever. His exploits throughout the years had left him a recovering alcoholic, currently addicted to an underground drug that did more damage to his mind than his body. His theories made him the joke of his peers and his popularity made him a target of ridicule from the same crowd, but a very very rich man. His choice of women...questionable. Heading to Seattle was more out of necessity than choice, but he's fairly sure what he was running from died with the superflu.


Resting his head on the glass front door of a Starbucks, Kyle cried as he realized he could no longer brew fresh coffee with the power outage happening. It would be permanent and he'd have to figure out how to make a fire with some sticks soon enough. He turned just in time to have a marigold colored piece of paper be blown directly into his face. Grabbing it he turned it over and read the message.

There are others. He hadn't seen anyone else alive in several days...at least he thought it was several days. Time was going by in a blur, as was his mind. Crumbling up the paper, Kyle made his way towards the shadow of the Space Needle in his yellow cab.
Guest 16 years ago
Hi All,
Guess I'll take a place in line too (don't have time for a full post right now).
Calimaryn 16 years ago
Name: Henry

Appearance: The weight of the world shows heavily on his face. Deep lines marr the ruddy face that struggles mightily to hold up the rather bulbous nose and bushy eyebrows. The grey hair is scragly but not too unclean, the cops picked me up a while ago and let me spend a night in the tank to clean up. A ponderous belly keeps him alive on long cold winters. Being of smaller stature at 5'6" helps in finding good spots and boxes to sleep in. Several shirts layer upon one another over grey sweat pants, topped all with a dingy brown coat that reaches his worn black boots.

Place of origin: (note: This will be taking place in the Seattle area in the beginning so where ever you are from, you should currently be living or have some reason to be in or around Seattle ) I've seen jes about evrywhare really. Born in Murfreesboro, Tennessee ovar half a centry ago.

Occupation: Homeless person

Mode of transportation: Mah feet werk jes fine, thank you.

Items being carried: A battered and rusted shopping cart of indeterminate age and origin holds all his earthly posessions. A battered box holds pop top type canned goods; vegatables, fruit, soup, and beans as well as dried fruits, beef jerky and some candies. A discarded outdated ladies purse holds ball point pens, gaudy ladies lapel pins, buttons with slogans and a dead guys watch. An old plastic lunchbox contains bottle caps from antiquity to recently found discarded metal caps. Covered by a tarp is an old fashioned lantern with a little kerosene in it still, a ratty scratchy blanket given out by the shelter last winter and a spare tin mug and plate. At the top of the cart is a backpack containing a radio with batteries, matches, a plate, bowl, mug and small kettle in blue ennamel with white flecks, several eating utensils in cheap stainless, plastic and disposable plastic nestle inside a torn cloth that resembles a dish towel. One spare shirt, gloves, scarf, hat and a pair of shoes are stashed in a plastic tub that is secured to the bottom of the cart as a sort of emergency stash. Tied to the handle on the left side is a plastic bag, full of other plastic bags while key chains dangle all over the rails.

I'hve been a bum for forty years. Mah pa tossed me from tha farm when I wer 15. Said ta git a job, he was done feeden soo many mouths. An it wasn like ther was sixteen o us, jes us four kids bu ma died da winter afore an pa didn like havn ta cook fo us all. Mah brother an I hopped a train ta Memphis an tried ta git jobs. We labored a while till we got nough, den hopped da nex friegh train ta Virginia. We did that fer abou twenty years. We were what ya woul call Hobo's. Ridin da rails all over tha country. Mitch died o cancer a coupla decades ago. Jes wasted way in da summer an was gone.

I been here a few months, afore tha dyin start'd. Jes sleepin under a bridge in some big concrete pipes lef for constrution. Mah cart goes anywher I go. Da cops pickd me up coupla weeks ago an lemme sleep in da jail an git a bath. Why they think I wanna go ta some church o sheltr is beyon me. I thankd em kindly fo tha box o food an bath.

I wer pickin up trash alon tha road an spotted tha note. Got meself a watch an a pen as well. Lef da bags o trash nex ta a dumster an made mah way here. Werkin a cart up stairs aint too hard, ya jes gotta go backwerds.