Our Fate Was In The Hands
he becomes a buffoon- penguins wrapped in comically oversized scarves
- King of the Skeptics
- like a wild herd drumming up chaos
- You think your great big husband will protect you?
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Our fate was in the hands of a man who was being pushed and pulled, tempted and hectored, from so many directions that he becomes a buffoon. I had seen it happen to field agents before, though none so seasoned as John. But I could see in his eyes that we were losing him. Soon he’d be as much use to us as a dozen penguins wrapped in comically oversized scarves.
Mr Carousel tried to sweeten his ludicrous offer further, but Fleur throat-punched him before he completed the first sentence. Normally I’m King of the Skeptics when it comes to such negotiation strategies, but this time I was grateful.
“John, the engines. Right now!” I said.
Just then Mother glided over the ice, bringing disaster as always. “Was this nice man saying something about wombats?” Something about her was like a wild herd drumming up chaos, in this case a wombat herd. John trembled, staring at his new bride. He seemed unable to find the proper patch of ice to use the magnet on.
“Mother,” I spat, “what do you think is going to happen if we keep drifting on our present course? How do you intend to deal with the rockets? You think your great big husband will protect you?”
She batted away my argument with a thoughtless backhanded gesture. “We are in no danger.”
“You’re wrong,” Fleur said.
“Well,” Mother muttered, “when I say ‘we’ I might be referring only to certain individuals.”
bonus points for using them in order