The Quest For Dobby's Destiny --Part 1

Disclaimer...

This tall tale is a dramatization of previous events. Some of the events have been listed in a different order to make things more interesting and because, being a writer...Mom can do that. Names have been changed to protect the poor innocents who had the bad luck of encountering someone as nutty as Mom. Thank you for sticking around. May you be ROFL when this quest is over. I use the abbreviation ROFL because I am a cat and therefore too cool to type the entire phrase out.

Beware for the little ones there is some adult language.

The Quest For Dobby's Destiny

It was a dark and stormy night...

“Mom!” Dobby says.

“What?”

“You're doing it again.”

“Doing what?” Mom asks.

“Using 'It was a dark and stormy night' again. That's not allowed.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it's not.”

“Yes. It is.” Mom emphasizes. “I am the writer and what I say goes.”

“Even if it stinks?”

“Even if it stinks.” Mom agrees. “What? What stinks?”

“Your opening.” Dobby says. “This story is a quest. No one ever says “It was a dark and stormy night...” to open a serious quest story.”

“Where were you last Thursday night?” Mom asks.

“Here at home.” Dobby answers.

“How do you know it wasn't a dark and stormy night?”

“Well, let's see, you went to a city in a desert at the end of May. There are two seasons during which it commonly rains in Arizona neither of which are in May so...what are the odds it was raining much less storming when you arrived? When it storms in the desert there are what...four to eight drops of rain? You went to a city. Cities have street lights, building lights, billboards...which keep the streets from getting very dark. A dark and stormy night Mom? I doubt it. Seriously doubt it.”

“You think you can do better?” Mom asks.

“Mom. It's me. Of course I can do better. I can write it just like I was there with you.” Dobby answers approaching Mom from behind.

“How are you going to do that?”

“It's called a Feline Mind Meld.”

“Only a Vulcan can do that.” Mom points out.

“Anything with pointy ears can do it with anything else that has pointy ears.”

“My ears aren't pointy.”

“I am a fictional character by at least fifty percent Mom.” Dobby says with patience.

“So.”

“Artistic license, Mom. Do I have to take it out of my pocket again?”

“Where did you get a pocket?”

“Artistic li-cense.” Dobby answers jumping up on the back of Mom's chair. Placing his right paw at the base of Mom's neck, “Don't worry Mom this won't hurt much.”

“This could hurt?” Mom uses a lot of colorful words to describe her discomfort.

“So what's this meeting crap about? Dobby's Mom and I were just getting ready to leave for the con.” Tinkletoes says with irritation.

Tinkletoes and Mom put their bags down in the entry to the living room and approach Dobby. TP is sitting in a cross legged position. The faerie is floating eye level to the humans with his arms at rest in a meditative position.

“TP had a vision.” Dobby says. The ginger tabby is sitting underneath the floating faerie.

“Oh. A...vision.” Tinkletoes says. “Let's drop everything and wait for the show.”

Mom glares at Tinkletoes.

“How long is this gonna take? I have people waiting.”

Dobby looks at Mom rolling his eyes.

“Your 'people' will have to wait.” TP says opening his eyes. “This is a quest for Dobby's Mom.”

“Me?” Mom asks.

“Yes Writer Lady, you. You must travel many miles to the Land of the Rising Bird. There you must charm the evil knight who hides under white armor into letting you through the Hall of Distractions. Next, you find your way into the realm of the Queen of the Amazing 'Fro and her Most Colorful Court. Once there you will meet with His Lordship and Ladyship of the Drawn Story. They will look into your soul and see that Tinkletoes' communications have truly been records of actual events and not some random crap he made up. His Lord and Ladyship will grant Dobby's Mom entrance into the high court of the Gem of the Con who will sign a note to Dobby. This note recognizes Dobby as a V.I.F. (Very Important Feline) thereby inviting him into the world of adoration. When Dobby enters that realm he has the chance to have females and random admirers hanging on his every contented blink.”

“I told you this was important.” Dobby announces looking at Tinkletoes.

“That doesn't sound very different from what I had planned. I'll make sure she completes her mission.” Tinkletoes says reaching for Mom so he can guide her back out of the room.

TP faded from sight and reappeared in front of Tinkletoes and Mom. “You are not going.” TP says, looking at Tinkletoes.

“What?”

“You cannot go.”

“Of course I can go. I made the phone calls, I paid the deposit fees, I bought the tickets,” Tinkletoes stops and thinks before he makes his final appeal, “do you have any idea how many cupcakes she had to bake for us to go to this thing?”

“How many cupcakes...I...baked?” Mom repeats a light dawning on Tinkletoes' comment. “What are you talking about?” Mom asks Tinkletoes as she stands in his space. Tinkletoes is glaring at the faerie and ignoring Mom which is the safest thing to do if Mom is getting mad.

“What did he mean by that?” Mom asks, looking down at Dobby. Dobby pretends to wash himself and avoids eye contact.

“You are not going to the con Tinkletoes. Merlin has spoken.” TP states with finality.

“Merlin has been dead forever. I'm not listening to some dead guy. Tell him I said 'No'.”

“Merlin has spoken.” TP emphasizes.

“I have spoken...back.” Tinkletoes responds. There is soft brush of paw against the tips of the mercenary's fingers.

“Make an exception this time man. Merlin is part fae. One of the oldest and most powerful wizards both Earth and the Fae have ever seen. Merlin never died he just left our world. Our dimension of time and space.” Dobby explains. “He can also go bat shit crazy and kick your ass all over the place.”

Where Is That Chocolate?

The small boy walks over to Tinkletoes slowly. “Here,” he says, handing a tiny squashed mass to the battle seasoned mercenary.

“That ain't chocolate. It looks like shit!”

TP flies over to inspect the object. Gesturing and nodding his head.

“TP says it's a chocolate covered raisin. I don't know how you can tell with the dirty lint that's all over it.”

“You're not going to give it to the writer lady to eat are you?” The older boy asks coming further into the room.

“Peter? Is that your name?” Tinkletoes asks.

“Yes sir.” Peter answers.

“TP, the little faerie flying around my shoulders, says if she becomes agitated we can let her smell the chocolate to calm her down. We will only feed it to her as a last resort. I disagree. I think we should shove the thing down her throat. It will taste horrible, she'll spit it out. If we're lucky she'll never want another piece of chocolate ever again.”

“That's a beautiful dream. It's time to come back to reality.” Dobby says, gesturing towards the dragon and the two boys.

Tinkletoes looks at the children.  “You still here?” Tinkletoes says, something sharp pokes him in the back of the neck. “Good job kids and um...little dragon thing. You saved a lot of lives tonight.” Another sharp jab. “When Dobby's Mom wakes up well I bet she'll bake you some cookies soon to say 'Thanks' for helping. She's going to owe me a butt load of baked goods for this one anyway.” Another sharper jab. Tinkletoes turns his head glaring at TP.

Tinkletoes turns his attention to Dobby, “What? It's true. I'm asking for a wedding cake myself. My little sister is getting married next month.”

“Thanks, Dylan, Peter and Furnatche. You should find Aunt Purdy .” Dobby glares at Tinkletoes while the children and dragon leave the room.

“Mom told me it's my job to bring the cake.” Tinkletoes' voice goes up and then back down. “I don't see the point myself. Tiny Feet has been married six times. I told Mom myself, 'You can feed the guy as much cake as you want, it isn't going to make living with Tiny Feet any easier.' She has tiny feet but a really big mouth. High maintenance. I remember when we were kids I always had to keep an eye out for her. I got in trouble for the stupidest things. 'Don't let your sister play with the knives. Take that chainsaw away from your sister. Don't let her run over squirrels with the lawn mower.' The nagging. That kid was trying to learn some serious life skills. She would be a better person today, if everyone hadn't treated her like such a girl.”

“Any debts we have to you get paid off next weekend. You said that if I went to that Phoenix Comicon thing with you that would settle things. Mom is going in my place, to meet all of your friends and corroborate your stories. The blog is a record of all that has happened in the last year.”

“I know.” Tinkletoes agrees, reluctantly. “Whose gonna wear the dress if you aren't? Have you talked her into wearing Kaylee's pink and white dress?” (See previous post—The Ecstasy).

Three loud knocks, sound at the back door. Dobby, TP and Tinkletoes all look at the door.

Looking at his watch, Tinkletoes says, “1450 hours. Ray must have got here early. He is always good for help in a pinch. His insomnia is our savior tonight my friends.” Walking across the room, Tinkletoes opens the door.

“Ray. Thanks for getting here so fast.”

“Dude...” Ray is tan and his hair is bleached. Like a surfer picked up right off of a coastal beach. “You said hurry. So I hurried.”

“Ray. Dobby. Ray. TP.”

“Dude...I hate to tell you this but that's a cat. The other thing is weirdest bug I have ever seen, it almost looks like a little person.”

“That's because I am a cat. Dufus. TP is a faerie.” Dobby says.

“A real faerie?” Ray asks. “I though you meant TP was gay or something. Wow Tinkletoes you know how to make the coolest friends.” Ray looks around taking in the room. He sees the artillery bag, the large board covered with information and Mom. “Is that Dobby's Mom?”

“Yes, as you can see she is not well. We need the chocolate.” Dobby answers.

“Wow. She's kind of pretty. Not in the regular way, boobs and butt. She looks like she is nice, fun to be around, not bag over the head ugly. That kind of pretty.”

“She is. As long as you have the chocolate.” Dobby answers.

“Is she the one who bakes all the cakes, pies and cookies you bring over to HALO night?”

“Yep.”

“Cool! We definitely want to save her.”

Tinkletoes stands as close to Ray as a manly man can and still be um...manly. “The chocolate? We need the chocolate.”

“Dude. Relax I got it right here.” Ray crosses the room and reaches outside the back door. He carries in a case size box with ease. “I didn't know what to get so I handed the clerk at the local gas station a hundred and just loaded up every piece of chocolate they had.”

“We're saved!” Tinkletoes squats on the floor to open the box. Lifting the lid he looks inside. Glaring at Ray, he stands up and turns the box over. Empty wrappers rain all over.

“Don't do that man. I kinda got sick on the way here.”

“Now it's on the floor.” Dobby says, looking at a liquid mess.

“You were supposed to bring me chocolate not eat it!” Tinkletoes yells.

“I didn't think you would miss just one.” Ray answers.

“You didn't eat just one did you?”

“Once I got started I had trouble...you know, stopping.”

“Lives are at stake. I told you people could die. People will die now.” Tinkletoes' head was bright red. The yelling was hurting Dobby's ears.

“What is going on here?” Mom's voice startled everyone. “Dobby! What are all of these people doing in my house in the middle of the night?”

Dobby looks at Tinkletoes. Tinkletoes was pale, mouth open, not moving.

“Well, you were sick and I needed help for you.”

“This is how everyone helps? Making a mess with junk food and throwing up on the floor? I think it would be best if everyone who doesn't live here went home. Everyone else, GO TO BED. NOW!”

Mom is muttering as she cleans, 'I don't know why this crap always has to happen to me. In the middle of the freaking night too. What was that cat thinking?...” Muttering becomes indecipherable.

Ray, Tinkletoes, TP and Dobby gather outside the back door.

“Ah, this fresh air is so nice.” Tinkletoes says.

Dobby and TP look at each other, then back to Tinkletoes. “How can you be so calm? We are in trouble with Mom? Deep trouble.” Dobby asks.

“First of all, I don't live here. Second, we made a huge breakthrough. We have discovered how to pull a woman out of Chocolate Shock; give her a mess to clean up. Finally, look around you we are all still alive, intact and the house is still standing. Life is good, Dobby cat.”

One Long Night

   Tinkletoes picks up his artillery bag and backs away from Mom. Mom is still muttering her list. The language has changed but Dobby does not recognize it. TP says she is in South America now. Everyone agrees that is a good thing. As long as she stays away from Europe, life is good. Tinkletoes is getting regular texts from the delivery truck driver en route.

“It's 1300. We only have two hours left to wait and your Mom is still in a trance. We might just come out of this alive fellas.”

Dobby sits down taking in all of the activity around him. TP and Tinkletoes are working on back-up plans.  Tinkletoes is offering back up plans and TP is rejecting all of them because each plan involves some type of explosion. TP has to keep reminding him Dobby loves his house and does not wish to be an orphan.   

  On the far side of the house Dylan and Furnatche are searching for an odd scrap of chocolate that will placate Mom if she comes out of the trance before the truck arrives. Then Dobby hears it from the big writing chair at the end of the room by the door that leads to “outside”.

“EatMore, Glosette, Aero, Big Turk, Coffee Crisp, Pep, Crispy Crunch, Mirage, Caramilk...” The language Mom is speaking has changed.

“She has gone back to English. Is she in Europe now?” Dobby calls out to the mercenary and the faerie.

“Must be.” Tinkletoes answers.

TP reaches over and pulls on Tinkletoes' sleeve. Fluttering up, TP whispers in Tinkletoes' ear.

“Canada. TP says those are Canadian chocolates.” Tinkletoes answers Dobby's question.

Facing TP the mercenary says, “What the hell did she go there for? Canada sucks. Ain't nothing in Canada.”

TP whispers back, making grand gestures with his arms. The faerie's face is quickly growing red. “Sorry Man. I had no idea faeries loved Canada so damn much.”

Dobby looks at the pair dumbfounded. “TP says Canada is the “go to” vacation destination for faeries. It's like a home away from home for them. Over the centuries the fae found Canadians to be very gentle. They made good pets too.” Tinkletoes says chuckling.

Taking offense TP starts buzzing around the soldier and jabbing at him with a shrimp fork.

Tinkletoes puts his hands up protectively, " Ow!  TP says It was the mean stupid faeries that used Canadians as pets. TP and his buddies are enlightened and they don't do none of that mean stuff.” Tinkletoes finishes explaining.

“If you're so enlightened and all of that, then what's with the shrimp fork tinker bell.” Tinkletoes asks.

“Quit being a pussy? Me, a pussy? Look you little titmouse, I am the only one here with combat experience. You don't know what you're dealing with. I do. I was raised in a house full of women. Have you ever spent a week in a house full of pre-menstrual women? There are Navy Seals out there that couldn't take that crap!”

“Mr. Soldier. Sir?” A soft voice call from the laundry's entryway. Dobby, TP and Tinkletoes turn to see Dylan and Furnatche standing in the doorway. The young boy was pale. Both child and dragon's eyes were abnormally large. The dragon's nose looked odd. Numerous strings were hanging off either side like a limp noodle mustache.

“Were those the worms you were talking about?” Tinkletoes asks Dylan. “They don't look like they could help much.”

Silence.

“Speak up son!”

“Excuse me sir. My little brother gets nervous when grown-ups start getting loud.” A taller older version of Dylan had come forward to stand right behind his younger brother, hugging him protectively from behind.

Tinkletoes turns his attention away from the children and asks Dobby, “Was I yelling?”

Dobby looks at Tinkletoes, “Yep.”

Tinkletoes looks back at the kids. “Sorry about that. You didn't do anything wrong. It was just a lover's quarrel.” The mercenary glares pointedly at TP. TP's face grows red with anger.  The shrimp fork makes another pass. “I was kidding.”

 Looking at the kids again, he says “You understand I'm kidding right?”

The two boys nod in agreement.

“You were saying?” Tinkletoes prompts.

“I'm Peter, Dylan's brother. When Furnatche's nose is in um...Super Smell Mode, all the funny hairy things that are laying across his nose. Well they stand up and swirl around back and forth until they smell what they are looking for. This time Furnatche found this.”

Looking down at Dylan, Peter says, “Take it to him. It's okay. He won't hurt you.”

This Could Get Ugly

“Abuelita, Paleta Payaso, Bubu Lubu, Carlos V, Cremino. Milo, Monedas...” Mom continues her list.

“What is she saying now Dobby?” Tinkletoes asked, looking through his artillery case.

“I don't know. I can't tell.”

“Chocoretas, Mazapan, Manicero, Chips de chocolate, barras de chocolate, pastel de chocolate, donuts de chocolate, leche con chocolate, cereales de chocolate, cacao, chocolate, magdalenas de chocolate pretzels cubiertos, conejitos de chocolate...”

“That's Spanish.” Tinkletoes says “She must be continuing her list in to Mexico. She didn't immediately jump over to Europe, that's a good sign. It means the shock is growing slowly, probably because she currently has chocolate in her system. Her nervous system knows she is not in immediate danger. We have more time.”

“How does she know Spanish?”

“It's part of Chocolate Shock Syndrome.”

TP snickers behind Dobby's right ear. “Let me explain it to you my good man.” The fairy has changed from his Saturday Night with the Pixies clothes and is now wearing a lab coat, John Lennon style reading glasses and a faerie style Albert Einstein fro. TP lightly touches Dobby on his right front leg directing the orange tabby to turn and face what is behind him. The two face a large, green chalk board. TP steps forward to stand next to the chalkboard. “Dobby, have you ever heard of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?”

“Yes.”

“The condition your mutter has is worse. Not only does she have the physchological issues of PTSD but the physiological withdrawal of a drug addict. When she comes down from the “high”: raised blood sugar and euphoria associated with chocolate consumption her body will start searching frantically for more chocolate. If your mutter comes out of her “Call for Chocolate” trance she may become aggressive.”

“How aggressive?” Dobby asks.

“She'll become one Crazy Ass Bitch kitty.” Dr. TP says.

Dobby blinks in shock at the possibility.

“Put it this way kitty the way my squad and I survived a sniper in chocolate withdrawal was we told her that the military had implemented a new program that required soldiers to “earn” their chocolate. We promised her a chocolate bar for every target she neutralized. She completed a dozen high risk assignments within forty-eight hours. 98% of the shots were perfect-- immediate death, very little blood. She brought the bodies back with her as proof convinced if she didn't someone would try to short her a bar. It was strange she kept muttering about how my second in command told her the targets would ooze out a creamy center if she made the shot right. Of course there was no creamy chocolate center. That woman was pretty pissed about it too. I had to transfer my second in command out in the middle of the night. Keep this in mind, the sniper had just gone off her menstrual cycle. If she had been pre-menstrual I don't think any of us would have survived.”

“What can we do?” Dobby asks.

“Find her some chocolate.”

“I told you there is none.” Dobby stresses, wondering what language Mom is speaking now how much time they have left.

“I already texted an order of candy for immediate delivery. He can be here in three hours. So all we need is to find a piece of chocolate. Just enough that when she starts coming down she will have something to smell until the shipment gets here. She will be coming out of the trance. We can tell her what happened and that the reason she feels better is she just had some candy. You know; that everything is alright now.”

“We can't lie. Mom will know.” Dobby says.

“You aren't lying Dobby. You are just creating a small illusion to improve her immediate health and well being. When I was in the service, we did it all the time. Nothing bad happens.”

"Well..." Dobby hesitates.

“I'll tell her. Just go find something.” Tinkletoes instructed.

“Mr. T?” A small voice calls from a darkened corner of the room.

“Yeah.” Tinkletoes calls back, not looking up from his work.

“I think my dragon could find you some chocolate. Auntie says you may not be able to eat it though.”

“Auntie?” Tinkletoes looks up at the darkened corner. “Come on out of the dark and talk to me.”

A small tow headed boy comes forward. He is wearing jeans and a super hero t-shirt. His sneakers have the dusting of dirt covering them that can be found on most children's shoes. Standing next to the boy is what appears to be the strangest looking house cat Tinkletoes has ever seen. It was half the toddler's size already. A strange silvery gray in color with fur so matted looking he wondered whether the boy and the “dragon” were some kind of orphans. The boy's blue eyes are bright and widened, unsure of the big man looking at them.

“I know you. You're that kid. Dylan.” Tinkletoes says remembering their last encounter (see post titled “Taking Steps”).

Dylan nods quietly.

“That your dragon?” Tinkletoes asks.

Dylan nods again.

Tinkletoes looks up and sees Dylan nodding. “Answer me. I'm working here. I can't hear your head rattle.”

“Yes sir. He can smell things nobody else can. Furnatche has special worms in his nose.”

“Worms huh?”

Dylan nods.

“I can't hear your head rattle.”

“Yes.”

“I don't have time for 50 questions. Go look.” Tinkletoes commands.

Dobby and Dr. TP are standing next to Mom's chair discussing what may happen next.

“Is there any way to know how aggressive she may get? I don't want to be homeless. Mom is the only person I really like.”

“Does she have anyone who could be more important than you? Is she, um...dating?” TP asks gently.

“Mom? No.”

“She won't throw you out then, she will need someone to help her through this. You will have to be strong." 

 Dobby nods in understanding. 

“Tinkletoes and I are concerned about one thing though. What the odds are she will be pre-menstrual if there is the withdrawal and the inevitable aggression. When was the last time she had her...period?”

“I don't know. How does a woman act when that happens?” Dobby asks.

“What might a cat notice? Has she been yelling a lot?”

“No.”

“Cuddling you more?”

“No.  We have rules about touching.”

“Have you heard the word “Midol” recently?" TP continues.

“Nope.”

“Crying?”

“She's a girl. Girls cry sometimes.” Dobby answers getting bored.

“Recently? Over something stupid?”

“She's a girl! Hel-lo!” Dobby

Tinkletoes walks over to Dobby. "Seriously. Think for a minute."

“She did." The orange tabby confirmed. "Last night she watched a movie and cried a little. She never cries during that movie. She said the poor creature was misunderstood and probably just needed a hug.”

“Do you remember the name of the movie?” TP asked.

Dobby closes his eyes tight remembering, “Nightmare on Elm Street.”

“Sympathy for Freddy Krueger, that's PMS right there. Full blown.” Tinkletoes looks at Dobby and TP “This could get ugly men. We need to prepare.”