Tagged: tune in next time

We Were Intercepted At the End of the Gangplank

  • by Kent“Hwaaaaaah.”
  • thankfully I never had to see Santa again
  • traveling with your lobster
  • your thick head of hair and your killer gams
  • Flip out about this, won’t you?

Tune in next time part 458      Click Here for Earlier Installments

We were intercepted at the end of the gangplank by YoYo. “Yes,” I said, knowing she was going to make an insubordinate inquiry as to my involvement in Isolde’s gravid condition. “And it’s twins.”

To this, YoYo only said, “Hwaaaaaah.” It seemed she remembered that she was in the presence of royalty on the verge of saying something disrespectful. She stepped out of the path of the new arrivals, and their retinue with me in their lead. We proceeded to the throne room where the weary travelers could recline until their chambers were prepared.

But not Jim. I cornered him before he could stretch out on a chaise. “What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded.

“I bear a message from our sister,” he replied in his eternally smirking drawl.

“Can you be more specific?”

“Freya wants to see you,” Jim said.

My last sight of Freya, she had been in the company of an unclean Santa, allegedly an operative. I looked forward to being reunited with my sister, but thankfully I never had to see Santa again.

Naturally, I couldn’t trust anything Jim told me. He had to be tested. I jerked my head toward Isolde in her impractical red dress. “I see you’re traveling with your lobster. Is that wise, when she’s so far along?” Suddenly I foresaw the babies being born here, at Enigma Fortress, an image so upsetting that I forgot I was building up to an implanted trigger phrase that would have temporarily suppressed Jim’s ability to lie. It made me furious. “I can’t believe you think you can float in here, with your thick head of hair and your killer gams, and there will never be any reckoning!”

Jim’s smirk quirked to the right, which I’d never seen it do before. I knew how to read all his subconscious facial tics, and this one wasn’t on my list. He said, “Flip out about this, won’t you? It’s what we’ve come all this way to witness.”

“Well, it’s madness!” I exclaimed. I whirled to Isolde. “What about you? What do you have to say for yourself?”

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Isolde Crooked Her Finger

  • by jenpractically kissing my cheek
  • name of your sex tape
  • capable of extraordinary cruelty
  • the ice-master caught the first sight
  • winning the war against time

Tune in next time part 459      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Isolde crooked her finger, beckoning me closer and closer until her eyelashes were practically kissing my cheek. She whispered, “The soothsayers soothsay it’s triplets, at least. Harry is just thrilled.”

“Is that why he’s causing scenes at cotillions?” I asked snippily. I hadn’t forgotten that Fleur expected me to act as Harry’s lawyer.

“Causing Scenes at Cotillions,” said Jim. “I do believe that’s the name of your sex tape, brother.”

Isolde trilled a high-pitched laugh. She obviously found Jim charming. My brother had that effect on women, largely because they didn’t know he was capable of extraordinary cruelty. At the Academy, the Ice-Master caught the first sight of Jim’s mean streak, and the poor man was never the same again.

I stood to my full height and straightened my General’s frock coat, vest, and cravat. “So, Jim, I am to believe that you flew through a blizzard in an airship to tell me that Freya wants to see me, when either you or she are perfectly capable of sending a telegram? And Isolde, who is barely winning the war against time in regards to delivering her children, just tagged along for fun?”

It was time to deploy that lie-suppressing trigger phrase.

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I Made Sure I Had Jim’s Attention

  • by KentI want the hair
  • moved from gross to turbo-gross
  • Do not give this woman an inch.
  • just because she feeds me well
  • dealt with outrage my whole life

Tune in next time part 460      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I made sure I had Jim’s attention, and said, “I clean the drains because I want the hair.” With this utterance our conversation moved from gross to turbo-gross, but for the next several minutes my brother would be incapable of saying anything untrue. He blinked as if startled by a sunbeam, then stared vacantly ahead. The trance was in effect.

“What’s the deal with bringing Isolde out here?” I demanded. The well-being of those offspring was my primary concern.

Jim sounded like a southern-fried robot. “Do not give this woman an inch.”

“Hey!” Isolde exclaimed. She began struggling up from the couch, which was evidently going to take her a while.

“You didn’t really answer my question,” I said.

“She thinks she can keep me fooled,” Jim drone-drawled, “just because she feeds me well, but her scheme is obvious to me.”

“What scheme?” I pressed. The trance prevented lying, but clearly still permitted him to speak in riddles. Isolde continued wrestling unsuccessfully with gravity, her frustration growing into outrage. I was unimpressed, having dealt with outrage my whole life.

Jim said, “Her scheme to–” but he got no further before a white-furred bipedal abomination burst into the chamber and seized him up. The ease with which it carried my brother away had me wondering if this one was an actual yeti. No! It had to be Arlo, that dick, abducting Jim while he would be unable to provide false answers under interrogation.

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Isolde was Still Struggling to Stand

  • by jeneach wore different colored goggles
  • never had a sandwich before
  • obscured by unmoving clouds
  • he was double her age
  • scattered on the carpet

Tune in next time part 461      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Isolde was still struggling to stand as I raced from the room in pursuit of the kidnapping faux-yeti. In the courtyard I skidded to a halt. Arlo was there in the snow, locked in the stocks. His yeti head had been removed, exposing his bald scalp, which was now quite pink. I looked around in alarm. If Arlo was imprisoned, then who had abducted my brother? And why?

Near the outer wall I saw a phalanx of what appeared to be yeti. There were at least a dozen of the furry white things, and each wore different colored goggles and nothing else. The one with Jim over his shoulder loped across the icy cobblestones toward his comrades. Obviously they couldn’t be real yeti, since there was no such thing. They were probably a group of insurrectionists, the sort of malcontents who never had a sandwich before without finding something to complain about.

The “yeti” near the wall hooted at each other and then formed themselves into a human pyramid (or rather a yeti-pyramid). The one carrying Jim bounded up the stack of hairy bodies and vaulted over the wall before I could reach him. The others followed and disappeared up into the mountains, the tops of which were obscured by unmoving clouds and the ongoing blizzard.

Well, shit.

It was then that I remembered I was a General, and I didn’t have to do all this running around. I ordered a squadron of yodelers to give chase and retrieve my brother.

As I made my way back to the throne room, I thought about Isolde. She was my wife’s sister, and I had always found her most beautiful. Acting as Harry’s proxy for their wedding and wedding night was a highlight of my recent past, even if it did end with her wed to Harry. He was a toad-featured Junior Baronet, and he was double her age. I had no idea what she saw in him. And I had no idea what she was doing here at Enigma Fortress while he was in legal trouble and she was so close to giving birth.

I entered the throne room and immediately had to revise my musings. Isolde was no longer close to giving birth. She sat on the floor, beaming, with babies scattered on the carpet around her.

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Isolde Grinned Up At Me

  • by Kentwith a thin little nose between silver-rimmed spectacles
  • So why did the building planners put two toilets in the same stall?
  • They could… “experiment” on you
  • “Wash your face before you hug your mother,”
  • missing only one thing: a unicorn

Tune in next time part 462      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Isolde grinned up at me from the floor where she sat in a veritable heap of newborns.

“Does this fortress have an obstetrician!” I bellowed.

“Relax,” Isolde lilted. “I’ve already asked about it.”

A door opened and an elderly woman with a thin little nose between silver-rimmed spectacles marched in. Her ears bore multiple piercings, most of them festooned with shark’s teeth, and her exposed shoulders and forearms were coated in elaborate circus-themed tattoos. She tutted, drying her hands with a paper towel. “So why did the building planners put two toilets in the same stall? I’m serious here, I’m asking, so if some wise-ass says ‘to get to the other side’ I’m turning right back around.” She fixed me with a look over the tops of her glasses. “Do you know? You look like you’re in charge around here. Anyway, it does create opportunities to get to know each other, if you’re open-minded.”

Too many bizarre things had happened too rapidly, leaving my mind susceptible to her grandmotherly charm. Inwardly I stammered in search of an answer. They hoped it… They didn’t… They could… “experiment” on you in there? Fortunately none of it was out loud.

“Yes, I’m an obstetrician, and I’m also a doula and a sixth-degree black belt and I’m here to save the day.” The old woman stooped and hefted one of the tiny babies. “Wash your face before you hug your mother,” the multi-talented fortress obstetrician said, producing a pack of sterile wipes from her bag and cleaning the infant all over.

“Thank you,” Isolde said, accepting the clean babe while the woman proceeded to the next one. “What is your name?”

“You may address me as Doctor Nanna, all the cool kids are doing it.”

In what seemed like no time at all Isolde cradled her entire litter, all cleaned up, and four footmen arrived with a palanquin to convey her to the nursery that I hadn’t known was being prepared for the royal rugrats. But Isolde clearly liked it, with all its cartoony clouds and candy-colored, trademark-infringing bears. So, I said, “I hope you like it.”

Doctor Nanna spoke up, saying, “Not too shabby. It’s missing only one thing: a unicorn.”

The twitch of her left eyelid might have been an incidental, involuntary thing, but for the fact that “missing a unicorn” was Hopscotch Academy slang that only the teachers had ever employed.

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I Twitched My Eyelid

  • by jencouldn’t see what was in the crotch
  • slept under a picture of a bear
  • flutes of champagne
  • your big girl panties
  • mountain honeycombed with caves

Tune in next time part 463      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I twitched my eyelid at Doctor Nanna to signal that I’d heard her message. Her lips relaxed into a slight smile. I wasn’t fluent in Academy staff slang, but I thought I knew what her unicorn comment meant. Unfortunately I couldn’t see what was in the crotch of her leotard to confirm, because it was hidden behind her surgical apron. I kept an eye on her as she flitted around the nursery, tending to Isolde and the infants.

“Every great warlord in Contraria’s history has slept under a picture of a bear,” Isolde said, gazing at the cartoony creatures adorning the walls. “This will do nicely.”

A 3-star yodeler arrived with flutes of champagne for Isolde and myself. “To the children.” I raised my glass.

“To the children,” Isolde agreed. She downed the champagne in one long pull and gave a dainty, giggling burp. “How many are there?” she asked. “I lost count. I felt like a baby piñata!”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “Perhaps you should count them.” Behind Isolde, Doctor Nanna bent over a cradle and I finally had confirmation of her message.

I left Isolde with a second glass of champagne, and joined Doctor Nanna in the corner where we spoke in low voices. “I saw your big girl panties,” I said.

“I’d heard you were a clever boy, good with codes.” She handed me a swaddled infant. “This fortress is built on a mountain honeycombed with caves. That’s where those yeti took Jim.  I don’t need to tell you how dangerous this situation is.”

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“Let’s Pretend”

  • by KentOlga’s younger and more receptive sister
  • “brain fingerprinting”
  • treats her guests exactly as an auctioneer treats his goods
  • blue-gray vest with silvery buttons
  • even slightly out of the ordinary

Tune in next time part 464      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Let’s pretend you do need to tell me how dangerous it is,” I grumbled. “I’m tired of riddles, and I’m tired of Jim’s bullshit. I don’t think I actually want him to be devoured by yetis, but maybe if I just don’t have to know one way or the other…”

“So now they’re real yeti?” Doctor Nanna pursed her lips into a duckbilled sneer.

“Cannibal furries, then. I don’t even care anymore. Are they the source of the danger? They only seemed interested in Jim.”

“They are the foot soldiers of Oksana, who is Olga’s younger and more receptive sister.”

I shook my head. “Olga’s the youngest.” And, from personal experience I was sure she set the bar impossibly high for receptivity.

Doctor Nanna shook her head too, mockingly. “Not that Olga. The one who pushed the cart in the room with all the books back at the Academy.”

A chill ran down my spine. There was a reason no one from the Academy ever utters the word “librarian” aloud, and that reason is Olga. She could tell which parts of a book a student had skipped over or misunderstood because, she claimed, our minds left smudgy traces among the words, and this “brain fingerprinting” told her what everyone was reading about, and by extension what everyone was plotting.

“What does Oksana want?” I asked.

“We think she’s throwing a party, and Jim has been forcibly invited. But you must remember that Oksana treats her guests exactly as an auctioneer treats his goods, and that sooner or later the gavel falls for all of them. Jim knows things. We can’t let him be transferred to the highest bidder.” She gave me a warmer look, but only for a moment. “We’ve already lost too much time. Now, go put on your mountaineering uniform, the one with the blue-gray vest with silvery buttons, and recruit your team without alerting them that this is anything even slightly out of the ordinary.”

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My Blue-Gray Mountaineering Uniform

  • by jenforced to meet with the King of Swaziland to seek clemency
  • scandalous exhibits
  • his mad rush
  • I’m taking a ride with my best friend
  • dangle from the undercarriage like a bat

Tune in next time part 465      Click Here for Earlier Installments

My blue-gray mountaineering uniform bore a strong resemblance to the official groveling suit John wore when he was forced to meet with the King of Swaziland to seek clemency for the series of scandalous exhibits he’d staged across southern Africa in his mad rush to become an infamous performance artist.

“By wearing this outfit it’s almost like I’m taking a ride with my best friend,” I said into the mirror. “Back when life was simpler. Back before he betrayed me.”

It took me a while to do up all the silvery buttons on the vest, and I was confounded by this weird chain harness that went on like a pair of clanky speedos over the pants, and had a holster for my ice axe, that for some reason let it dangle from the undercarriage like a bat. Or, given that it was between my legs, like something else altogether.

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I Needed a Very Enthusiastic Team

  • by Kentbitter cold assailed me.
  • who don’t sell goat-milk candy
  • vortex of mystery, heartbreak, and intrigue
  • the president in a weird jumpsuit
  • Real gung ho.

Tune in next time part 466      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I needed a very enthusiastic team for this mission. Real gung ho. Lucky for me, the yodeler brigade was stocked with just this kind of fanatical adrenaline junkie. Unfortunately, none of those Contrarian lunatics could have cared less about my brother, so to rile them up I showed them pictures of the president in a weird jumpsuit, neglecting to point out that he was also my brother.

“Bravery alone will not help you in the mountains,” Doctor Nanna said. “The storm raging right now over Hughshel Knot Pass is a vortex of mystery, heartbreak, and intrigue. Your soldiers–”

“They’re yodelers,” I corrected.

She blinked once, slowly. “Your yodelers do not understand the alpine wilderness. Make use of the locals. But hire only guides who don’t sell goat-milk candy as a side hustle. They need to be focused on getting you to the yeti caverns.”

“We are re-uh-haa-dy!” chorused my expeditionary force. I gestured for the doors to be opened, and a howling wind and bitter cold assailed me.

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I Led My Yodelers into the Teeth of the Blizzard

  • by jencreating different shadows
  • shoes I never want to walk a mile in
  • silver-haired former yacht builder
  • heavy gold watch chain
  • with a great deal of giggling and modesty

Tune in next time part 467      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I led my yodelers into the teeth of the blizzard. Their headlamps didn’t do much to light our way, creating different shadows every second as the shifting winds threw the snow around.

Contrarian mountaineering boots are made of wood and lined with fur. They are shoes I never want to walk a mile in on flat ground, but they are quite warm. I made a mental note to, upon my return to Enigma Fortress, dictate a letter of appreciation to the silver-haired former yacht builder who took up cobbling in his retirement at the behest of the Warlord, and now uses his boatbuilding skills to construct the cozy footwear of the Mountain Garrisons.

Soon our way was practically vertical. I made great use of the ice axe that dangled between my legs on a heavy gold watch chain. My yodelers complimented my climbing technique, which I’d learned from John, who learned it during his childhood at the Tibetan monastery. They kept praising me, really going overboard with it until, with a great deal of giggling and modesty, I taught them my secret axe-wielding maneuver.

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