Tinkletoes' New Mission

“Everything all right in here?”  Tinkletoes asks calling just inside the doorway.

Writer Lady turns to look at him, “Everything is fine” she answers and turns back smiling at Mural Man and House.

Tinkletoes looks in the same direction.   “Hi” he says looking at Mural Man.

“Hi.”  Mural Man says pulling back from House.  He steps to her side and holds her close.

“Making up for lost time, huh? How long were you gone?   Ten minutes?” Tinkletoes asks.

“About that.”  Mural Man answers.

“Good to see you back.”

“It's good to be back.”  Mural Man answers looking at House.

“Can I have a word with you?”  Tinkletoes asks looking at Writer Lady.  She joins Tinkletoes in the laundry room.  “Are you okay?”  He asks.

“Yeah.  Why wouldn't I be?”

“I heard you talking about dead husbands, jealousy, Mural Man, there might have been something about Monitor Man being the man of your dreams.”

“How did you hear that?  You were supposed to be fixing the sink.”

“You remember earlier when I told you about the sharp eyes and keen memory? I can hear pretty good too.”

“Pretty good?”

“It's not a registered super power.  Not yet.  It will be.”

Writer Lady looks at Tinkletoes and taps her foot.  Slowly.

“I might have had Dylan listen at the door for a second.”  He admits.
“For a second?”

“Maybe a little longer.”

“How long?”

“The whole time.”  Tinkletoes answers.

“What part of 'I'm not talking girl talk in front of you' don't you understand?” Writer Lady asks.  “That conversation was private.  It wasn't meant for other ears.”

“Are you okay?”

“I'm okay.  For the record, I didn't say that Monitor Man was the man of my dreams I said that he was a man that I could only dream of being with.”

“Isn't that the same thing?”   Tinkletoes asks.

“Yes...no.   I don't know!”  Writer Lady looks around at her wet kitchen.  “This place has been drenched.  So have you.”  She leaves the room returning with a mop.   “Here!  Hold this.”  She leaves again, returning with a clean, dry towel.  “Take this!”  Writer Lady and Tinkletoes trade.  He dries off as she mops the water up off of the floor.  He studies her as she works.   “What!”  She says on her way out of the room.

“What, what?”

“You're staring at me.”  She says.

“No.   I was watching you.”

“Did I miss anything in front of the stove?”

“No.”

“Stop looking at me.  It's weird.”

Tinkletoes turns to dry off noticing his reflection in the window.  “It's the whole 'wet' look isn't it?  I'm too sexy.  You can't take it.”

There is a silence.   And then...

“You are too sexy for me.”   Writer Lady confesses, her back to Tinkletoes. “I can't take it anymore.”

She turns to face him then crosses the room quickly, a woman with a purpose and because it's not very far either.   “I don't think I can control myself any longer.” She says, handing Tinkletoes the mop. “Don't say anything.  I want to remember you just like this.”  She says and leaves the room.

Dobby enters as she is leaving.

“Females.”  Tinkletoes says.  He has draped the towel over his shoulder and is slowly mopping the floor.

“Mom is a simple woman.”

Tinkletoes looks at Dobby.

“You spied on her.  It made her mad.  She isn't going to let you have an ego building moment when she's mad.”

“So she left me holding the mop.”

“You have been temporarily demoted Commander.”

“What does a guy have to do to get promoted again?”

“Mom says that men underestimate how sexy they look while cleaning.”

Tinkletoes looks around the room, “In a self-cleaning house?”   He asks and continues mopping.   He shakes his head as he works.   “No.  I'm the man.  I have to do things my way.  She'll call me Commander on my terms.”  Tinkletoes says.  He rests the mop against the cabinet before preparing to leave the room slipping on a puddle of water and landing on his back.  He doesn't move.

“Tink?”  Dobby calls.

The kittens respond to Dobby's call running into the kitchen then down Tinkletoes' face and chest.  Spots and Smudge stop to have a wrestling match on his stomach.   The self-proclaimed mercenary does not move until they run across his most delicate parts--claws extended.  His body convulses quickly bringing Tinkletoes up to a seated position.

“Are you okay?”  Dobby asks.

“I'm okay.”

“Does he need help?”  Dylan asks.  The tow headed boy is standing in the entry, a game controller is in his hand.

“I've got it.”  He says standing up.   “And I know how to become Commander again.”

Dobby, Dylan, and the kittens look at Tinkletoes waiting for the big announcement.

“I'm going to become the Commander-In-Chief then she has to call me Commander.”

House's groan can be heard from the bonus room.  “I told you the ape would ruin it.   I knew this was coming.  I could smell the stupidity from here.”

“House darling...you are supposed to be nice.”  Mural Man says.

“Nice to you.  I have no trouble being nice to you.”  She purrs.

“What would be nice for me is if you apologized.”  Mural Man says.

“Sorry.”  House says half-heartedly(?) no it wasn't half.  It was quarter.  Quarter-heartedly.

“Silly humans doing funny things.”  TP sings flying into the kitchen.

“It's not funny.”  Tinkletoes says.

“No it's not.”  Carp says following TP.  “Do you know who the Commander-In-Chief of the United States is?”

“Whoever's at the top of the chain of command?”   He asks.

“The President.”  Carp says.

“I'm going to get that job and then Writer Lady will call me Commander again.”

“There are better ways to do this.”  Carp sings.

“She would call you Mr. President.”  Dobby says.

“Not Commander?”

“No.”

“But I would be the guy in charge?”

“Yes.”

“I'll change it to Commander when I get the job.”   Tinkletoes announces.  “Where do I enlist?”

Girl Talk

“What was that?”  Writer Lady asks.

“I don't know.”  He answers.   Tinkletoes turns to Carp.    “Did you say something?”

“No.”

Both kittens are climbing on Carp and the assassin is scratching chins and rubbing ears.  There is a smile of contentment on his face.  The “No” startles Smudge who slinks away.  Spots jumps off of Carp's boot and lays down on the floor showing his belly.

“That's no way to train soldiers Carp.”

“You gave me kittens to train not people.  Kittens.”

Writer Lady turns to watch Carp as well.  “A kitten showing its belly is a sign of trust.  It could be seen as submissive behavior.”  She says turning back to more immediate problems.

“Carry on Training Officer.”  Tinkletoes commands with a nod.

Carp does not respond.  The kittens are chasing his hand.

“Why don't you do that lady stuff with her?”  Tinkletoes asks.

“Lady stuff.  Do you mean girl talk?”

“Yeah that.”

“Go away.”   Writer Lady says.

Tinkletoes stands and looks at Writer Lady without saying anything.

“I'm not making girl talk in front of...”

“a man?”

“No.  You.  I won't do it in front of you.”

“I'm just too sexy for you.  I get you all flustered.”  Tinkletoes says grinning.

One corner of Writer Lady's lips curve up into a slight smile.

“Is that yes?”  He asks.  “Or no?”

She smiles a little bit more.

“You're not going to tell me are you?”

Writer Lady grins.  “Exactly.   Now go away.”

“What am I supposed to do alone in the dark?”

“Go.”  She turns back to House.   “House?”  She says.  “It is devastating what you are going through.   Losing the man you love.  Mural Man was here with you sharing, laughing with you um...holding you.   A man who was with you day in and day out and suddenly he's gone.  A woman feels so alone.”

“Are you trying to make me feel better?”  House asks.  “Because you aren't helping.   At all.”

“I know how it feels.  To be that sad.  That lonely.   Yearning for one more night, hour, longing to have a few precious moments back again.”

“I'm grieving here.  My grief is much deeper than yours so if you would get to the point.”

“TP says that Mural Man isn't dead.  You can get him back House you just need to love him with more...depth.”

“I am a pictorial representation of a non-living object.   I cannot grow or change.  That evil little faerie knew that when he changed Mural Man.”

“TP's obnoxious but he wouldn't do that.”  Writer Lady says.

House glares at Writer Lady.

“When you and Mural Man first started interacting I hated it.  I didn't like it that he looked so much like Monitor Man.   I hated having the constant reminder.  I guess I was a little bit jealous.  You were just a house at first and then there you are days later getting friendly with the mural of a man that I could only dream of being with.   But Mural Man isn't Monitor Man.  He's a character all his own.  I came to get to know him as the ma...mural that he really is.  You say that you are only a house but you are capable of this type of growth.  I want you to be happy.   I want Mural Man to be able to come back and for the two of you to be happy.  I want to help you do this.  Since I have loved and lost I am going say something I miss about my late husband and then you say something you miss about Mural...”

“His butt.”  House says.

“Man.”   Writer Lady finishes.   “Okay let's try this.  I'm going to say that I loved his smile.  You are going to say...”

“I love his booty.”   House responds.

“This is gonna take a while.   We all know how special Mural Man's a**...butt is.  Try something else.”  Tinkletoes calls from across the room.

“No eaves dropping.”  Writer Lady says.

“There's nothing to do.”  He counters.

“Shhh...”

“She's shushing me.  I can pick off the enemy at 1000 yards and she's shushing me.”

“I miss cuddling with him.”  Writer Lady says.   “Your turn.”

“I miss his a...eyes.  I miss his eyes.”

“See...that wasn't hard.”

“House is still stuck on his looks.   You need to keep going.”  Tinkletoes says.

Writer Lady holds up the flashlight to her face and glares at Tinkletoes.

“I know shush.”

“I miss the way we used to laugh together.”

“Mural Man's um...”  House says stumbling a bit.   She looks at the pink unicorn sticker.   “His heart.  I miss his heart.  He was so kind, caring, and understanding.”

Something rattles in the kitchen the sound of rushing water can be heard in the distance.

“Crap.”   Tinkletoes mutters.  “I hope this flashlight's waterproof.”  The mercenary says stumbling his way back to the kitchen followed by Carp and the two kittens.

“He loved me so much.   I love him.”  House says.

More rattling is heard in the bathroom and another sound of rushing water.

“His heart is so kind and sweet just like the unicorn bandage.”

“Hey!  Make her stop crying before the main lines go!”  Tinkletoes calls.

“Just let me see him.  Please?  Let me tell him that I love him.   Then I'll take my punishment.   I'll go back to being a house and Mural Man can move on to faerie like we'd always planned.”

“You will have to stop crying.”  Writer Lady says looking into House's eyes. “You are damaging your foundation.”

House quietly nods.

“Thank you!”  Is heard coming from the kitchen.

“TP can you help us with this?  TP?”  Writer Lady looks up to find the faerie floating through the air slowly.  He is sitting in a crossed legged position wearing flannel pajamas with pink kittens on them.  He is crying.

“TP.”

“One minute please.”  He says wiping his eyes and blowing his nose into a lace trimmed handkerchief.  Wiggling his fingers he quickly unfolds Mural Man.  TP blows on his own thumb and Mural Man fills out into three dimensional form.  

The lights return with the light in House's eyes.
Mural Man reaches for House's hand.  With his touch she peels away from the wall and fills out into three dimensions.

“Mur...I'm sorry.”

“For what?”   Mural Man asks.

“For being mean, shallow, spoiled, pushy, demanding...mostly for never saying 'I love you.'”

“I love you too.”  He says holding her close.

Writer Lady and TP share a tearful glance as the two lovers are reunited.

Mural Man pulls back,  “Are you sure?   I don't look the same with all of these fold lines.”

“Mural Man I love you.”  House repeats and leans in for another embrace.   “Fold lines?  How many fold lines?”

The Butt Of The Problem

Tinkletoes stops just outside the entry to the living room.  “Things are kind of cramped in here so follow my footsteps exactly or you may step on something.”

“Okay.”   Writer Lady whispers.

They start shuffling into the room.   Writer Lady matching Tinkletoes' movements shuffle for shuffle.

“Um...” She says as she touches Tinkletoes lightly on the arm.

“Yeah?”

“Shouldn't you use the flashlight to check the floor?  That way we'll know where everyone is and we won't step on them.”

“No.  I was just in here.  I remember where everything and everyone is.   I'm a mercenary.  Mercenaries have sharp eyes and keen memories.”

“You're holding a flashlight, shouldn't you use it?  It will help prevent an accident.”

Tinkletoes turns around to face Writer Lady pointing to himself he says, “Mercenary.  Sharp eyes.  Keen memory.  I've got this.”   He turns and walks this time with the confident gait of a well trained soldier, slipping in the dark and landing on his butt.

Writer Lady turns on the flashlight and shines it around the room.  She and Tinkletoes find that all of the room's occupants are well away from them and crowded on the couch.  Tinkletoes' foot has once again found its way on to the pizza box.

“I thought I told everyone to stay put.”  He says.

“You didn't.”  Dylan says.

“You said that if we got stepped on that it was our fault.”  Peter says.

“Why didn't you move the pizza box?”  Tinkletoes asks.

“Oops,”  Dylan says.   “I forgot.”

“I was gone for five minutes.”

“These things happen?”

“Come and get this box so Writer Lady and I can get to the bottom of things.”

The two boys look at each other and laugh.

Tinkletoes stands up.  “Let's get going.”  He says and they continue through the kitchen and into the laundry room.

“Are you okay?”  Writer Lady whispers once they are out of earshot.

Tinkletoes takes the flashlight from her and holds it up to his face so she can see his glare.

“You hit the floor pretty hard.”  She says.

He turns around, holding the light in front of him and continues into the bonus room without a word.  They find Carp sitting on the floor patiently waiting for the lights to return.  Each kitten has taken a position on either side of him.

“You evil little faerie.”  House screams looking at TP.

“Call me names all you want Paper Lady.  You can't hurt me.”  He says.

“Flutter close to an electrical outlet and say that.”  House says challenging TP.

“What's going on here?”  Writer Lady asks stepping past Tinkletoes and facing House.

“He's killed him.”  House yells gesturing to the wall next to and above her.  “My own sweet love is gone forever.”

“Is that Mural Man?”  Writer Lady asks peering at the sparkling pink unicorn bandage stuck to the wall.

“Yes it is.”   TP says.

“And you are dressed as a doctor...”   Writer Lady says to TP.

“So I could fix them.”   TP says.  “You're welcome.  Here's your bill.”

Writer Lady takes a bill from TP and reads it.  “Tinkletoes, this is for you.”  She says holding up Dr. TP's bill.   He accepts the bill, reads it, and tears it up.

“I am the doctor.”  TP says.  “You must pay.”

“No one here has a million dollars and turning Mural Man into a bandage is pretty shoddy work if you ask me.  If you want to charge these prices Doc you need to be pickier when choosing your patients.”

“Her cure and his cure are intertwined.”  Dr. TP says.

“Make him fix it.”  House cries.

Tinkletoes looks at Carp, steps over to where he is, squats down and gets brought up to speed.

Writer Lady looks at Dr. TP,  at the sticker,  at House,  then back at Dr. TP.  “She's so upset.  Can't you just bring him back?”  She asks.

“Dr. TP will bring him back when House behaves.”  The faerie says.

“I miss him so much.”  House cries.   “I need to see him.  Please?   Just a glimpse, to keep his memory alive.”

The faerie rolls his eyes.

Writer Lady finds a piece of a crayon and draws an outline of Mural Man's posterior on the wall around the sparkling unicorn sticker.  She looks at House hoping to see that she has calmed down.

“He was a little bit wider than that.”  House says.

Writer Lady adjusts the drawing.

“Wider.”  House says.

She adjusts the outline again.

“Can you make the cheeks look...fuller?” House asks.

There are more adjustments.

“Could you put a little shading just below the right cheek?  It will look more real that way.”
After complying, Writer Lady steps back from the wall to inspect her work.

House's lips turn up slightly to show her approval.  “Mur...what have they done to you my darling?”

“What the...”  Tinkletoes says joining Writer Lady in front of the wall.  “It looks like the Headless Horseman was attacked by a band of renegade toddlers.”

“Mur...if you hadn't have died so young.”  House croaks.

Writer Lady looks at Tinkletoes sadly.

“He's not dead.”  He tells her.

She continues looking at Mural Man's...mural(?) sniffling a little.

“He's not dead.”  Tinkletoes repeats.

“What?”   She asks.

“He's not dead.”  He says a third time.  “Dr. TP told House that when she proves that she can love Mural Man regardless of his physical attributes he can come back.   Why is she grieving?”

Writer Lady slowly turns her head and looks up at Tinkletoes.

“You're a girl.  You're supposed to know why another girl is carrying on.”  He says.

“You mean like we instinctively know how to wear make-up?”  She asks.

“Yeah.”

Writer Lady looks at Tinkletoes without speaking.

“How did you know how to wear those funny brown things you wear on your legs?”

“Pantyhose?”

“Yeah.”

“During high school all of the girls got together and decided that it would be fun to strangle our boyfriends until they passed out and tell them that aliens attacked and did anal probes on them.  We didn't know how to carry the weapon with us without there being questions.   We decided to wear them.”

“If you don't know all you have to do is say so.”  Tinkletoes says.

“I don't know.”

“Okay.”

“Did you still want to catch a movie this weekend?”  Writer Lady asks.

“We still haven't gone on that date yet have we?”

“No.”

“Maybe we should wait.”  Tinkletoes says.   “Get this business cleared up first.”

“Is a big guy like you scared of a fragile little woman like me?”

“No.”  He answers.  “It won't hurt to wait until I've burned all of your hose.” He mutters. 

This May Be A Focusing Issue...Or Marketing

I am a Storyteller.  This is my purpose.  To communicate to my fellow humans that they are not alone.  Helping the human race to re-discover the things that lightens ones load [not loosens because that would be a laxative] with amazing stories, tall tales, the magic in everyday things, and the humor in us all. [Looks around for humor, stands up, checks seat, looks under both feet, sniffs at pits]  It looks like I lost mine, this is awkward.

Find out what you love and what the world needs then combine them.

I love writing.   What does the world need?  The world needs to laugh.

I have been telling tall tales since I was potty trained, writing since I was a teenager (usually long sweeping monologues of tragedy that only a young girl can communicate or writing myself into my favorite television shows).  Eventually I started creating some things that were more solid: a humorous blog, a children's book, a cozy mystery with a few laughs.  When I found myself without a job for the first time in nearly a decade it was both a dream come true and a horrifying nightmare.  Everything I read said "Get out there!  Fulfill your dreams!  Do what you love!  You can do it!  Learn some new skills, focus, and you're on your way.”  I'm all about doing what I love.  I have been looking for that for several years now.  I was ready to jump into my dream job.   I still am.   Just so you know.  Given the current situation it seemed like it was the optimal time to venture forth into to new territories, push beyond my personal boundaries, do something I never thought possible and start doing work I would love.  Unfortunately...reality.  Yeah that.

I discovered that there is more to transitioning into a new line of work than saying “Look. I'm here!” and waving enthusiastically.   In my opinion, when it comes to making a big change if you know exactly what you are looking for, exactly where you want to do it, and you have a knack for networking you'll do okay.

Now for the rest of us...me for example.   Because I'm here and I know myself.   I like to think I know myself.  How well do we really know ourselves?  I'm confused.   Oh yeah...it's okay I know where I'm going with this.   I'm fairly sure I know where I'm going with this.

   I love writing.   I told you I knew where I was going with this.  Gold star for me!  Writing and I have had a lifelong "on again off again" relationship.  In recent years I have been doing it daily.   You know, writing?  It's great.  I feel like a kid in a candy store.   I want to try everything.  It's like making mud pies.   Wait...did I just go from candy to making mud pies?  That's a little bit weird.   [Looks at coffee mug, lifts cup, peers at bottom, sniffs, shakes head, puts cup down]  I want to explore as many types as possible.  Find out what I'm best at,  what energizes me, what I get the most satisfaction from.  Do I like a sprinkling of sand in my mud?  Do I like marbles on the pie or toy car tracks?  A piece of a straw.  Lots of pieces of straws.  A straw city...white and plastic with striped buildings butted up against each other.  There is nothing like writing, telling tall tales, and sharing engrossing stories.  I want to find ways to make people laugh, forget their troubles for a time, and reassure them that they are not alone.  I truly love it.

So do a lot of other people.  It seems like the world is brimming over with written content these days.

How does one get noticed?  I seriously cannot tell you.  I'm supposed to be sharing my wisdom aren't I?   This is awkward.

Since I'm the only one financing my adventure through life and although I am always writing I looked into other areas of employment as well.  Oh my goodness.

With the expansion of the Internet comes not only companies that are largely Internet based but there are entire areas of skill within that industry that did not exist before.  I knew that things had expanded but damn.  Similar jobs have different requirements.  Are there core skills needed that apply to most of these jobs?  I haven't found the master list.  I think they might be hiding it from me. They totally are, aren't they?

Job listings are confusing.   Have you noticed that?   It seems like they tell you everything or nothing.   I have to say that I love reading the ads for jobs in entertainment.   I do it when I need a break, some days there are lots of them. Especially on Fridays but sometimes on Tuesday because well...Monday.   They're so much fun.   It's hard not to apply for some of these jobs regardless of the fact that I wouldn't begin to know how to do them because I want to participate so much.  Is it okay to apply for something and add a note saying, "I wasn't serious but I had a lot of fun participating.  Have a nice day."?  (If you have to write a job ad look to Hollywood.  I don't know if they're getting results but some of these people sure are having fun.)

It really feels like "anything goes" when it comes to finding work now especially in the interview department.   I have had panel interviews for part time work (people tell me that this is normal but I'm not buying it).   I have gone in for interviews during which there was no interview only testing.   Logic testing, personality testing, etc...  Interviews where no one in the office could agree on what skills were needed for a job.   In that case one person liked me and the other one showed me the door as quickly and efficiently as possible.

If I can tell you anything about job hunting I can tell you this.   It is a personal journey.  One that has yet to end for me.  It may never end.  I hope it ends quickly for you.   You know, the job hunt, so you can message me and tell me where to go.  Wait a second...that didn't come out right.  I will keep writing, keep learning new skills, keep dreaming, keep cyber stalking (Not Stalking, politely watching from an appropriate distance because boundaries are good) Nerdist.com, Geek and Sundry, and Funny or Die among others (you know who you are) hoping to leave some samples (writing samples not the other kind because that would be awkward for everyone).  There are magazines on the list and other stuff too (I have a novel that needs a publisher btw) because if I was only looking at those three that would be weird.   Isn't stalking composed of fixating on one thing?  I'm confused.   Anyway, eventually someone is going to need a...um...um...me? Sooner or later someone is going to need me.  I will be here.  Or there.   Or online or...where was I going with this?  [Scratches head]   Let me look at the first sentence.  I am a storyteller.  Okay, maybe if I start at the beginning.  Once upon a time... Wait, has that phrase been copyrighted now?  This is awkward.

Lights Out

“My turn?” House asks. “There's nothing wrong with me.” She says.

“I would have to agree. House is beautiful.” Mural Man says.

“Oh Mur...” House purrs.

“People say I wrote fluff.” Carp mutters. “Dr. TP can you check Mural Man's brain. There might be a head injury that's causing this behavior.”

“No.” Dr. TP says. “The brain injury you are suggesting would create a distinct crinkling to his surface. It is House that has...um...how should I put this? Issues.”

“Issues? What issues.” House says.

“Not enough respect.” Dr. TP says. “You don't show Paper Man.”

“Mural Man.” Carp, House, and Mural Man say, correcting the faerie in unison.

“Mural Man.” Dr. TP says, not acknowledging his error. “The same respect he shows you, you do not show him. You are selfish, demanding, and most bossy.”

“I am not!” House yells. “Am I? AM I?” She demands looking at Mural Man. “If I was you would say something. Wouldn't you? Wouldn't YOU!”

Dr. TP continues speaking calmly finishing his thoughts. “When Diomedes was sick and you were a giant sewer pipe for dragon waste Mural Man stood by you, reassuring you of his love, telling you how beautiful you were dripping and smelling of dragon poop. Now when he has three scratches along his buttocks you are saying terrible things. You are acting like you only have love for the image of the man. The enchanted being that Mural Man is. He deserves to be loved. Every edge, every crinkle of his single dimension. One dimension is how Mural Man exists. It is how he was made. If you can't love him the way that he loves you then Dr. TP says that this affair is over.” The faerie raises his hand. A glittering light radiates out of his fingers. When the light reaches Mural Man he loses his glue layer and detaches from the wall. Dr. TP wiggles his fingers and Mural Man's edges come together folding Mural Man into a bandage sized square. When it's over all that remains visible is the sparkling pink unicorn bandage. The faerie stops wiggling his fingers and with a wave of his tiny arm the bandage affixes itself to the wall next to House up high and well out of the reach of both kittens and children. “Here is your Mural Man.” The faerie says. “Until you can love the imperfections, the scratches, and the scars this is all of Mural Man you will see.”

“NO!” House screams.

Everything goes dark.

In High Command:

“Well...crap.” Writer Lady says. “So much for continuing the story. Where did I put that flashlight?”

In the living room:

“What the...” Tinkletoes says, he is holding a controller in his hands.

“I didn't do it.” Dylan says. The boy is sitting next to Tinkletoes on the floor holding the other controller.

“Relax kid. I'm gonna find out what's going on. Stay put.” Tinkletoes says. “As soon as I find the flashlight.” There is a sound of footsteps running away and returning. The big red flashlight meets Tinkletoes' head with a thud. “Ouch.”

“I helped.” Dylan says.

“Yeah you did.” Tinkletoes says, taking custody of the flashlight. “Thanks. I've got this now.” He says standing up. “Everyone sit still and stay put.” Tinkletoes takes a step without using the flashlight tripping in sync with a terrifying scream. “Sh**,” he says, righting himself and looking around.

“Careful!” Dylan says.

“What was that?”

“You stepped on my dragon.”

“Sorry, Fur...”

“Furnatche.”
“Furnot...what?” Tinkletoes asks.

“Fur-nat-che.” Dylan repeats with emphasis.

“Sorry...lil' dragon.”
The mercenary tries again. There is another disagreeable noise.

“What's that?” Tinkletoes asks.

“My tail.” Diomedes says.

“Sorry.”

“Perhaps if you turned the flashlight on.” Diomedes suggests.

“Yeah, well...I was just getting to that.” Tinkletoes says, turning the flashlight on. “The lights go out and everybody gets worked up.” He says, slipping and falling he lands on his face. “What was that?”

“What was left of the pizza.” Peter says.

Tinkletoes shines the light on what's left of the pizza box's contents. “Save that piece for Ray. He'll eat anything.” He turns and shines the beam of light on his preferred route to High Command, standing up he sets off for the room and Writer Lady one last time. “If I step on you it's your own fault.” Tinkletoes announces as he leaves the room.

There's a knock on the door. Writer Lady opens it to find Tinkletoes holding the flashlight's beam in front of his face.

“Have you seen my flash...light? Thanks.” She says, taking it from his hand.

“You were alone in this room in the dark. I came to the door with the light in my face like some kind of maniac. Weren't you scared?”

“No. You looked the same to me.”

“Oh. So, what's up with the power?” Tinkletoes asks.

“I don't know. Don't you know?” Writer Lady asks.

“Did you pay the bill?” He asks.

Writer Lady looks at Tinkletoes.

“Of course you did.”

“I didn't do anything in here that would cause the power to go out. What are the rest of you doing?” Writer Lady asks.

“Assassin's Creed Tournament.”

“This is inconvenient for you too then.” Writer Lady says.

“The little one is really kickin' my a...butt. I was making my comeback when this happened.”

“I've been in here. Everyone else is in the living room?” Writer Lady asks.

“Yeah except for Carp he's in the bonus room working with the kittens.” Tinkletoes says.

“And TP?”

“TP's not here is he?” Tinkletoes asks.

“There are two of us unaccounted for that could make the power go out this suddenly. TP and House.” Writer Lady says. “We need to find out where they are.”

“After you.” Tinkletoes says.

“What? The lights are out.”

“What about it?”

“You're the big, strong man you go first.”

“You have the flashlight.” Tinkletoes points out.

Writer Lady hands Tinkletoes the flashlight.

“Like I said, I'm bigger, stronger and have the training I should go first.” Tinkletoes announces.

Writer Lady sighs and rolls her eyes.

“Just because I'm walking in front of you doesn't mean you can pinch my butt either. I know it's impressive but be a lady and keep your hands to yourself.”

“Not a problem.” Writer Lady mutters.

Mural Man's Sweet Booty And Other Household Disasters

 

**Be sure to read this post fully before letting a child read it.  Everyone has their own definition of what appropriate reading for a child is and has a right to rule things out as inappropriate at their own discretion.**

 

Butt Disclaimer: As a writer I have a connection with the characters I create.  When they are hurting I want to help them.  Initially, I was not in support of the subject matter in tonight's blog.  House was adamant.  Mural Man's backside is especially near and dear to her heart.   Although I have no interest in having another incident like the diarrhea saga from earlier this year I cannot ignore the worries of a house in love and her concerns for the safety and health of her beloved.  I agreed grudgingly that we need to get to the bottom of things and see that the issue is nipped in the butt.  Hopefully this part of the story can be finished quickly so that we don't get too far behind. 

 

“It's not that bad.”  Mural Man says.

“I can see bare wall through those scratch marks.   Bare Wall.”  House says.

“Mural Man says he's okay.  He's probably okay.”  Carp says.

“Do you see bare wall Carp?   Because I see bare wall.”  House exclaims.

Stepping down and into the bonus room Carp looks at Mural Man and his loin clothed posterior.  Briefly.  There are three lines running down Mural Man's left cheek.  “It looks like scratch marks.”   Carp says.

“Bare wall.”   House says again.

“There are three cats, two dragons, children, Ray, TP, and Tinkletoes in this house.  Something was going to happen eventually.   He's paper.  Paper gets cut, torn, disintegrates in water, drawn on.”

“I understand that.   I am smarter than you are Carp. In many ways. I take everything that happens to me in stride.”

Carp raises an eyebrow.

House doesn't see the eyebrow (I think she ignored it) and continues talking. “Mural Man is off limits and his booty is sacred.  No one touches it.  No one!”

“No one?”  Mural Man asks teasingly.

“I have been known to...”   House admits blushing.

“Been known to?”  Mural Man asks.

“We were in Faerie and three dimensional.   We had skin and everything.  It's not like I mauled you.”

“It wasn't an accidental brushing of skin either.”  Mural Man says.

“Whatever happened to 'What happens in Faerie stays in Faerie'?”  House asks.

“After two weeks like the ones we had in Faerie can you blame a guy for wanting to brag a little?”  Mural Man asks.

“I am more than most men can handle.”  House says.

Spots and Smudge continue wrestling on the floor.  One kitten being pinned then within seconds their positions reversing.

“Tinkletoes has plans for these two.  They have to be trained, part of that training involves learning discipline.   Strict discipline.  You won't be getting scratched after today Mural Man.”  Carp says.

“Thank you.   It sounds like our problem has been solved.”  Mural Man says.

“What about this?  What about the damage?”  House asks.

“Have you tried glue?”  Carp asks.

“The lines will still be there.  Permanent scars.  Every time I look at him I'll always be reminded of what I lost.”  House says, her voice catching slightly.

“House darling.”  Mural Man says.

“Whose butt is this?  Yours or his?”  Carp asks.

“What?”  House asks.  “I admire it daily.”  She says.

“But, it's attached to him.”  Carp says.  “It may be yours to admire but his butt belongs to him.  Mural Man should be the one to decide how it's repaired.”

“I want House to be happy.”   Mural Man croons.

“Oh Mur...”   House responds breathlessly.

The kittens have stopped wrestling and are looking at the wall, craning their heads trying to figure out where the sounds are coming from.

“Have you tried asking TP if he could re-bond the fibers?”

“I will not have him 'recycled'.”   House says.

“Then House it looks like you're stuck with...”  Carp leans in and studies the scratch marks again,  “bare wall.”

“No.”   House moans.

“Let's just call TP.”  Mural Man suggests.

“TP is already in.”   The faerie calls.   He is levitating above Smudge and Spots' heads.  Fluttering just out of reach as they take turns attempting to pounce on him.  The faerie is wearing a lab coat over his usual garb, a stethoscope hangs around his neck along with a wide array of tools that are stuffed into the lab coat's pockets.  He is wearing thick, round, glasses.  The faerie flies away from the kittens and up, stopping in front of Carp's face.  “Dr. TP is in.   Where does it hurt?  Here's your bill.”   TP asks holding up a bill made out to Carp for a million dollars.

“That's not how it works Dr. TP.”  Carp takes the bill, wads it up, and throws it onto the floor.  The kittens pounce and take off with it.  “I'm not the one who is hurt.  There's your patient.”   Carp says pointing to the wall.

“Where?”   The faerie asks, looking at everything except Mural Man's backside.

“You can't see it?”  House asks.   “It's a good thing he's only paper, he could have bled out by now.”

“Where?”   TP says squinting.

“Mural Man.   The kittens scratched his butt.”  Carp says, pointing again.

“Ah yes...”  TP says.  “I can see them now.”   The faerie floats the short distance to the wall where House and Mural Man are standing, laying, leaning?   The characters are paper just picture it, okay?

“Let's get a closer look.”  TP takes out a light and studies the scratches.  He puts the earpieces in his ears and places the stethoscope on the damaged cheek and listens. “Yes.”  TP pulls a measuring tape out and measures the scratches.  “Ah yes, very good.”  He says.   TP floats away from his patient's posterior and announces.  “It seems that Mural Man has been scratched.  Now he has boo-boos.”

“We told you that all ready.”   House says and mutters a few choice words.

“Can you do something to repair the scratches?”  Carp asks.

TP looks at Carp waiting for more information.

“Don't make me say that.”  Carp says.

No reply.   TP cranes his head as if puzzled.

“Can you fix Mural Man's boo-boos?”

“Can you?”  House asks.  “I don't want him to be scarred or recycled.   He's perfect right now.  He might not be as sweet next time if you recycle him.”

“Yes.  TP fix.   TP will fix both of you.”   TP says.  He begins looking for something in his pockets.   The faerie goes through all of the pockets several times, then on his fourth pass through he finds what he is looking for.   He pulls out a square wrapped in familiar white paper.

“Is that?”  House asks.   “An adhesive bandage?”

“Yes TP's special design.”  TP unwraps the bandage adjusting it to size like a person does when they are changing the size of a window on their computer display.   When the faerie is finished a sparkling pink unicorn is covering the scratches on Mural Man's tushy.   “All fixed.  No more boo-boo.”  TP looks directly at House.  “Now it's your turn.”

Make It Stop

“Dude.  You've got a marshmallow fire truck on your nose.   Now it's stuck to your butt.”  Ray's voice can be heard in the hallway.

Dobby and Tinkletoes enter the living room to find Carp waiting for them.

“Are you sure that you want to keep this plan in place?”  Carp asks Tinkletoes.  “I have been watching the kittens and they are pretty wound up.”

Spots slides past the kitchen's entry with a cellophane wrapped toy in his mouth.  Ray follows close behind.  “Dude.  That's the toy surprise, whoever opens the box gets that.  I opened the box.”

  Spots gains his footing and picks up speed running away from Ray.  Ray runs past the entry, he loses his balance sliding into the refrigerator door.  Spots stops, returning to Ray without the toy.  He sniffs at Ray for a minute.  The kitten looks at Ray, looks at the refrigerator door, looks back at Ray.  The kitten shakes his head and leaves.

  The open box of cereal falls from the counter landing onto the floor.  Smudge follows jumping from the counter top, landing easily on Ray's chest.  Ray groans, the added weight pushing air out of his lungs.

 “They've taken out Ray.”   Carp says looking at Tinkletoes.

“Ray is a low level target.”  Tinkletoes points out.

“They did take him out without much effort or training.”  Dobby adds.

Tinkletoes looks at Dobby then back at the kittens.  They are alternately jumping on and off of Ray's stomach as they race around him stopping periodically to chew on his hair or bat at his nose.

“Make it stop.”  Ray calls out.  “Make it stop.”

“These new recruits show potential.”  Tinkletoes says.   “The next lessons are discipline and taking orders.”

“Taking orders."  Carp repeats laughing a little bit.   “Who's going to do that job?”

  Tinkletoes and Dobby look at each other and then at Carp.

“Me?”  Carp asks.

“You know about discipline Carp, you used to write all that girlie stuff.   Writing girlie stuff takes discipline.”  Tinkletoes says.

“One of the most useful tools for establishing discipline is intimidation.  You're better at that.”  Carp says.

“This is a chance for you to get better at it.”   Tinkletoes counters.

The self-proclaimed mercenary looks at Dobby and whispers,  “The kittens need experience interacting with a higher level target.”  The ginger tabby nods briefly.

 Tinkletoes turns back to Carp,  “You can do this soldier.  Now get in there and teach those kittens discipline.  Start with the basics.”

“Step 1.  Line them up and break them down.”

Tinkletoes nods.  He and Dobby take their leave.

The kittens are wrestling on the kitchen floor.  Rolling, tumbling, clawing, and chewing on each other all over Ray's body.  Chewing on Ray's body.  Ray lays on the floor with his eyes closed and mutters quietly,  “Make it stop, make it stop.”

Carp walks into the kitchen, redirects the kittens to other pursuits, and walks over to Ray.

Ray opens one eye,  “Is it okay?  Is it safe?”  He asks.

Carp nods.

“What did you do?”  Ray asks.

“I threw a ball and got Spots' attention.”

“The other one?”

A crinkly noise is heard coming from the laundry room.

“Is that my toy surprise?”  Ray asks.

“A necessary sacrifice.”  Carp answers.

“Dude...I've been waiting for that one.  It completes a set.”

“Necessary sacrifices Ray.”  Carp repeats.  “Are you done experimenting or would you like me to leave you three alone?”  He asks.

“I am done.   Those kittens are hardcore.  They rock way harder than I do.”

Carp reaches out giving Ray a hand up.

Ray rises, dusting himself off.  He studies his body closely. “Do you see any blood?”   He asks.  “How's my hair?”

Carp looks at Ray taking stock, the same slept in clothes, the same eyes with the same slightly distant expression, his shoulder length hair still the same frayed mass of frizz it always was.  “It looks great.”  He says.

“Good.   I think I've got a date later or something.  It's a relief to know that I won't have to shower.”

“Ray,”  Carp says,  “go ahead and shower.”

Ray stares at Carp with a vacant expression.

“You said it was a date.  You've been playing with cats.  What if she's allergic to cats?”

Ray stares then a light slowly dawns.  “Dude!  You're right.  That is so brilliant.” Ray says.   “I'm gonna take off now.”  He makes his way through the laundry room and into the bonus room where the kittens are wrestling, both yearning to have complete custody of the cereal box prize.   “You guys rock hard.”  The kittens stop playing and watch Ray closely.   “It was fun.   Catch you later man.” Ray says to the kittens before leaving the house.   Smudge watches the door close, seeing that his brother is distracted Spots pounces pinning him to the floor and chewing on an ear.

Carp stands in the bonus room doorway watching Spots and Smudge play.  “You two do have lots of energy and you are relentless with your prey.”  Carp says to himself as he watches Smudge abandon his brother to rip the head off of a toy mouse.   “I can see why Tinkletoes wants to bring you in, but to find a way to control when and how you use it...”

“Yeah.   Good luck with that.”  House says from the other side of the door frame. “Those little monsters are destroying everything.”  She says.

“They're like little kids aren't they?”  Carp asks.  “You can't expect a toddler not to color on the floor or the wall at least once.”

“Coloring on the wall I can deal with.  They have been scratching them.”   House says.

“Scratches can be painted over.”

“Not these scratches.”  House says.  “The little monsters are the devil incarnate.”

“Darling it's okay.   I'm fine.”  Mural Man's voice can be heard coming from the bonus room.

“No you're not.  You were attacked mercilessly and I want justice!”  House exclaims.

Carp steps into the bonus room to get a look at the paper couple.  “What's the trouble?”  He asks.

“You don't see that?”  House groans.

“See what?”

“Mural Man.  They've shredded my baby's sweet booty.”

Hallway Antics And Hidden Scarves

“Now that your mom is occupied, let's have some fun.”   Where'd those kittens go?”  Tinkletoes asks Dobby taking a step away from the door.

There is a Whoosh and then another Whoosh is heard.  Tinkletoes suddenly feels more weight on top of his combat boots.  He looks down to see two pairs of eyes looking up at him expectantly.   The eyes are wide and radiate intense, unbridled energy.  “They have a quick response time.  That's good.   Now it's time to teach them how to follow orders.”  Tinkletoes says smiling.

“Good luck with that.”  Dobby says.

Spots watches Tinkletoes, then Dobby, then Tinkletoes throughout the exchange.  The kitten's pupils dilate and his body tenses.  Spots jumps, hugging Tinkletoes around his leg and climbs.  The kitten doesn't stop climbing until he is perched on Tinkletoes' shoulder and surveying all that he deems his.

  Tinkletoes turns and looking at Spots the self-proclaimed mercenary says, “Don't do that again.”  Taking Tinkletoes' words as an invitation Smudge does the exact same thing on the opposite side.  Conditions are right and a game of tag between the kittens ensues.  Spots slapping at Smudge only to miss and hit the top of Tinkletoes' head Smudge retaliating and smacking the human on the nose.

“How long are they gonna do this?”  Tinkletoes asks.

“They're kittens.  Short attention spans.”   Dobby says.  “Wait for it.  Three, two, one...”

  Smudge runs down Tinkletoes' left side taking off into the living room Spots following closely down the right.

  “Dudes, where did you go?   I've been looking all over for you two.”  Ray's voice can be heard from the room next door.  “Salt pumps you two up.  Now let's see what happens if I give you sugar.”* Something breaks.  “Dudes chill out.  There's plenty of Marshmallow Fruit Bits for all of us.   You guys like milk, don't you?”

  “Was that something breaking?  I thought I heard something breaking.”   Writer Lady's voice calls from the other side of High Command's door.

  “Everything is fine.”  Tinkletoes says.  “Go back to your writing.”

                                     The Teller Cont'd

   “No Armand there are not.  No crystal ball either.  I was trained that those are all embellishments.  Dressings, put out to fulfill an expectation that many have of tellers.  If a client's mind is full of expectations they cannot truly hear what they are being told.”

  “Really?”

  “It is the philosophy I was raised with.  If it is that way for all tellers that I cannot say but with my bloodline it is.”

  “This home doesn't look like the surroundings of such a young woman either.” Armand said.  “How old are you, twenty-two?”  He asked.

  “I am twenty-eight.  This is a family home.  I did not decorate it.”   She answered calmly studying Armand.  He had dark hair and eyes.   Although he was of average height and build many would have thought twice before walking down a dark alley with him.

  “Armand.  You called me Armand earlier.   How did you know my name?”  He asked.  She was a pretty woman of average height with coppery hair and amber eyes that competed for his attention.  Armand found himself having trouble finding his words.  Twenty- eight.   It was hard for Armand to see the young woman as twenty-eight.   There was something different about her.  Something more grounded than the other twenty-somethings he knew.  Was she one of those old souls?  Was that what they were called?

  “Once again...”   Cecily pointed out patiently.

  “I came to a teller and asked her how she knew things.”   Armand said finishing her thought.

  “Sit down.  I'll bring you some tea.”

  “That would be nice but unfortunately there's no time.”   Armand said.

  “There is always time sir.”

  “There isn't.  I came to see you tonight...this is about my wife, Olivia, she's laying in a hospital bed in a coma and no one knows how it happened.  My sister-in-law found her laying on the floor in our home nearly beaten to death.   We have no idea who would want to hurt her or why.  A lady who cleans at the hospital heard about Olivia, she saw my distress, and said you could help.”  Armand said as he worked his hand, a wrinkled piece of cloth clenched in it.

 Cecily could see the brightly colored fabric as it peeked out between his fingers.

“I brought this.  The cleaning lady said to bring something of Olivia's.  She was wearing this when my sister-in-law found her.”

  “What about the police?”  Cecily asked.

  “They are investigating.  They think I went out for something to eat.”

  “Instead you came here.” Cecily said. “What about the scarf?”

  “My sister-in-law picked it up and put it in her purse during all of the excitement and found it in her purse later.   She said that she forgot she had it.”

  “You didn't give it to the police?”  Cecily asked.

  “I needed something to bring to you.   I couldn't give it to them.  Not yet.”  Armand explained.

  Cecily looked at Armand closely and wondered if her previous assessment had not revealed enough about her visitor.  She turned and left the room, returning with a bag.  “Put the scarf in the bag.”  She said.  “When you return to the hospital give the scarf to the police.   Tell them the story of how you gained possession of it. Say that you put the scarf into your pocket and forgot about it, while you were at dinner you reached into your pocket to get your cell phone and found it there that was when you realized you had forgotten to give it to them.  The moment you found the scarf you asked your waitress for a bag and put it in there.  Make sure the police know the names of everyone you know of that has touched this scarf.”

  “You aren't going to touch it?”  He asked.

  “No, the scarf is evidence.”

  “But I need your help.”  Armand said.  “I have to know what happened to my wife.”

 “We will find the answer you seek in good time.  I have other ways of...getting to the truth.  Tell me Armand, how much time do the police expect you to be gone?”

  “An hour.”

  “The hospital is two blocks away.   You have been here about ten minutes.  We still have time.”  Cecily said as a smile crossed her lips.   “Tea?”  She asked.

*Never feed your cat sugar or salt.

Ten Hundred Hours

  “I look awful.”  Writer Lady says looking into the bathroom mirror.

  “No you don't Mom.”  Dobby says.  The ginger tabby is sitting in the doorway watching as she goes through her daily grooming routine.

  “Ray?  Hey man, I was wondering where you were today.”   Tinkletoes says making his way to the open doorway.   Realizing his mistake he pales at Writer Lady's saddened expression.

   “I didn't mean it.”  He says.

  Writer Lady looks at Tinkletoes.   “Yes you did.”  She looks at herself more closely in the mirror.  “You're right.  I have the same bags under my eyes, the same tired expression, the same dry, frizzy, blonde hair.   I'm turning into Ray.”  She turns back to the mirror, then looks back at Tinkletoes, tears welling in her eyes.  “I'm turning into Ray.”

  Dobby crosses the distance and rubs against her ankles.  “It's okay.  You're just tired Mom.”

  Writer Lady reaches down and scoops up the cat.

  “It's okay Mom.   It's okay.”   He purrs rubbing his head against her face.

  “Thank you kitty.”  She says scratching an ear.

  “Better?”  He asks.
 

  Writer Lady nods and puts Dobby down, quickly wiping away her tears.

  “You shouldn't feel bad Ray's a good guy.  He's always smiling, no matter how tired he is.   Laid back too.”  Tinkletoes says.

  “I know.”  She says.

  “Hey...where is everyone?”  Ray asks, entering the hallway and looking in through the bathroom entry.

  “Whoa...Dude.  It's just like I'm looking in the mirror.  Cool.”

  “I'll be okay.”  Writer Lady manages to squeak out.  She looks at Tinkletoes as she slowly closes the door.

  Tinkletoes knocks on the door.   Writer Lady opens it a crack.  “You haven't had much of a chance to write lately have you?”

  “No.”  She answers.

  “When you get done here, why don't you spend some time in High Command? You might, you know, feel better.”

  Writer Lady nods and closes the door.

  Tinkletoes turns around looks at Ray who is holding an unopened bag of cheese puffs in one hand.  Both kittens are sniffing at the bag with interest.  “There's a cheese puff ban in this house Ray.”   He says.

  “It's an experiment.”  Ray says, lifting the bag from the kittens' reach.

  “Let's wait until the lady of the house says it's all right.”  Tinkletoes says.

The odd sniffle can be heard coming from behind the bathroom door.   The kittens lose interest in the discussion and take off running through the house. First dashing through the living room then returning to the hallway and running over Tinkletoes' feet into High Command up the Big Writing Chair and back down, claws extended for better handling around curves.   The pair bolt out of High Command and make a b line for the bedroom climbing up Writer Lady's headboard pulling threads of the fabric covered board as they go.  Dobby, Tinkletoes, and Ray stand in the bedroom entry watching as the kittens take part in a final battle.   Hanging onto the edge of the headboard, tails flicking in the breeze, the fall to the mattress long and dangerous.  Hey, it seems huge to a kitten.  The fight ends when Spots launches himself skyward (well...the ceiling—skyward sounds cooler) towards the ceiling fan to escape his brother's onslaught.   The kitten flips head over tail finding himself hanging off of the foot of the bed where he lands, holding onto the bed's quilt with the tip of a single claw. 
 

  “So it's an experiment huh?”  Tinkletoes asks looking at Ray.

  “Dude...an experiment.”

  “I think a temporary lift of the cheese puff ban would be okay.  Keep those recruits busy Ray.”

  Ray smiles and nods.  He walks into the bedroom, picks up Spots, and carefully detaches him from the quilt.

 

  “Ray?”  Tinkletoes calls. “Don't tell the High Commander, the General, Her Ladyship.”    He shakes his head.  “Don't tell any females.  This is guy stuff.”

Not getting any response Tinkletoes looks in Ray's direction.  Ray is staring at him with a blank expression.

  “Ray?”   He asks.   Tinkletoes walks over to Ray and snaps his fingers in Ray's face.  Nothing.

  “If anyone asks, it's a training exercise.”  He announces.

  “Dude.  What time is it?”  Ray asks.

  “Ten hundred hours.  You'd better get going.”  He says.

   "Cool."  Ray says nodding and continues his work.

  When Tinkletoes checks on Writer Lady the door to High Command is closed.  He knocks. 

 

  “Yes?”  She calls.

  “May I come in?”

  “Yeah.”  She says, suspending typing long enough to answer.

  He enters, walking into her line of sight and she looks up. “Hi.  How's it going?”  Tinkletoes asks.

  “Pretty good I think.  When I sat down I didn't feel like I had anything to say but...”  She says gesturing to her full screen.

  “Wow.”   He says.  Tinkletoes begins reading over her shoulder his lips moving silently as he reads.

                                                  The Teller

The only way to discover what happened to your wife is to call your brother by his true name.

At precisely nine pm. there was a knock on the door.  She knew that it was precisely nine pm. because at nine pm. she always sat down with her last cup of tea for the evening.  An herbal blend that calmed her nerves and quieted her sensitivities so she could rest.

Not tonight.  On this rainy September evening her visitor, the one that had been lingering on the outskirts of her consciousness for many months made his unexpected entrance, exactly as she had foreseen it.  Cracking the door a bit, Cecily had a gift but not a precise one, and as Grandma had always said those who came looking for the wisdom of a teller were not always without malice in their hearts.

“Are you the teller?”  A voice asked from the other side of the door.

“I am.”   Cecily responded.

“I'm sorry to call so late but I need your help.  It is quite urgent.”

Cecily closed her eyes as he spoke, she listened for inflections in his voice, seeing the colors of his words and sensed his strain.  The fear in his heart.  She was in no danger.

“I was expecting you.”  She said and opened the door the rest of the way.

The fortune teller's words did not fully sink in until after Armand had come through the door.

“You were expecting me?”  He asked as he looked around the room.  “How could you be expecting me?”

Cecily's lips curved up into a brief smile.  “You arrive seeking the help of a teller and asks how she knows things?”

“That is silly isn't it?”  Armand asked.

Cecily smiled briefly.

Armand looked around and took in his surroundings, the modest furniture, the fireplace, the hand sewn throw pillows, the weather beaten looking cat with unusual eyes.

“You are surprised?”  Cecily asked.

“Yes. A bit.”  Armand admitted.  “There are no candles, no exotic looking scarves, no incense.”
 

“No Armand there are not.  No crystal ball either.   I was trained that those are all embellishments, dressings, put out to fulfill an expectation that many have of tellers.  If a client's mind is full of expectation they cannot truly hear what they are being told.”

“Really?”

“It is the philosophy I was raised with.  If it is that way for all tellers that I cannot say but with my bloodline it is.”

“The home doesn't look like the surroundings of such a young woman either.”  Armand said.   “How old are you, twenty-two?”   He asked.

“I am twenty-eight.  This is a family home.  I did not decorate it.”  She answered calmly looking closely at Armand.

She was a pretty woman of average height with coppery hair and amber eyes that competed for his attention.  Armand found himself having trouble finding his words.

  “That's interesting."  Tinkletoes says.  "A little bit redundant at the beginning but still good.” 

  “It's the first page of a first draft.”   Writer Lady points out.

  “How many drafts will you write?”

  “Thousands.”   She exaggerates a bit. 

 

  “Oh...in that case.   It's real good.”

  “Thank you.” 

 

  “I wanted to let you know that everything is moving along normal perimeters.  Everything is fine out there.”

  “The kittens are fine?”  She asks.

  “The new recruits have been contained, reassigned, and are participating in training exercises.”

  Writer Lady looks at Tinkletoes and raises an eyebrow.

  “The kittens are fine.”  He says.

  “Okay.   I should stay in here?”  She asks.

  “Stay in here.”

  “Okay.”  She says and continues typing.

  Tinkletoes backs out of the room and quietly closes the door.

  “So did Mom buy it?”  Dobby asks.

  “She bought it.”  He answers.