Dobby Descends

“Your nose is dirty.”  Dylan says climbing up on the demon's lap.   The small boy takes Writer Lady's abandoned towel and reaches up to clean Damon's face off.  This quickly turns into a game of “I Got Your Nose” between the boy and the demon.

“For something that's supposed to be so dangerous he has an incredible amount of patience.”   Tinkletoes says.

“Adults of one species can recognize the young of other species and show them similar compassion to what they would show an offspring of their own species.  You see it in nature all of the time.”  Writer Lady says.

“He's supposed to be a dangerous creature.”  Tinkletoes says, gesturing with a quick nod of the head.  “This looks like a greeting card commercial.”

“It is sweet isn't it?”  Writer Lady says.

“I was totally ready for major conflict.”  Ray says from his spot.

“This is a bit of a let down.”  Carp agrees.

“No one is dead and my home is not engulfed in flames.”  Writer Lady says looking around the room.  “I am completely okay with this.   All of it.   Except...” She stops mid sentence as her gaze falls across the overturned table and broken glass.

“Except?”  Tinkletoes asks.

“TP.   Where's TP?”

  A search begins, ending when Dobby emerges from behind an end table with TP.   The faerie is dazed, completely quiet (a big deal for TP) his tiny body dangling as Dobby carries him through the living room with the faerie's collar between his teeth.  Dobby waits as Tinkletoes rights a small table so TP can be safely lowered to it for inspection.

“Is he dead?”  Carp asks.

“Nah.”  Tinkletoes answers.

“We need to check.”  Writer Lady says.

“Okay. How?”  Tinkletoes asks.  “Where are we going to find a mirror that small?”

“Good point.   Assuming TP is just unconscious how do we wake him up?”  Writer Lady asks.   “Where are we going to get a bucket of water that tiny?”

  Dobby being the brill...being quick thinking, okay, being the obnoxious cat that he is jumps on to the table next to TP.  Sitting down he takes the end of his tail and thumps lightly on the faerie's stomach causing TP's body to convulse in response and quickly follows with a second harder thump.  TP's body responds more dramatically.  The faerie nearly sitting up and then falling back, his head hitting the table with a resounding thud; within seconds the faerie is conscious and coughing.

“Beating TP awake.  Good job Dobby.”  Tinkletoes says reaching out and scratching the cat's ear.

Writer Lady looks at Tinkletoes without speaking.

“You have to admit...it worked.”  He says.

“TP was already unconscious.  That wasn't the best thing to do.”

“TP's old.  He's got a hard head, he can take it.”  Tinkletoes says.

Writer Lady sighs and shakes her head.

“TP made a mistake.”  The faerie says sitting up.   “TP never should have conjured a demon.”

“No he shouldn't have.”  Writer Lady says.

“The demon needs to go home.”  TP says.

“You said he can't go home.”  She points out.

There is a bright green puff of smoke.  Pixie One and Pixie Too materialize (See “Name That Neurosis”) talking at the same time.

“Yes he can.   He can take that demon home!”   Pixie One declares.

“TP was a bad boy.”  Pixie Too shares, nodding and looking at Writer Lady.  “He broke another rule of the faeries.”

Pixie One looks at TP.  “How could you do this to us?  Why would you be so bad?”

Pixie Too glares at TP.   “That's because he's bad news.  A REBEL!”  She squeaks.  “We never should have taken up with him.”

“He's so cute and sweet.”  Pixie One says looking at TP lovingly.

TP looks back at Pixie One adoringly.

“He's not going to be cute anymore when he loses his head.”  Pixie Too says.

Pixie One starts crying.

Writer Lady, Tinkletoes, and Carp all look at each other wondering what is going on.

“Excuse me, ladies?”   Writer Lady says getting the pixies attention.  “What are you talking about?”

“That!”  Pixie Too says pointing to Damon.   “He has to go back.”

“Yes, he does.”   Writer Lady agrees.   “How can we do that?”

Pixie Too reaches out to get Pixie One's attention.  Pixie One is kneeling down next to TP and looking at him adoringly well out of Pixie Too's reach.  Pixie Too swipes at the air, losing her balance, and nearly falling off the table.  Turning around with her hands on her hips, she glares at the couple and taps her foot.   Then coughs.  Pixie One looks up.

“The book.”   Pixie Too says.

“The book?”  Pixie One asks.

“You were supposed to bring it."

"I could only bring one thing so I brought TP his present.”

Pixie Too looks away from Pixie One and rolls her eyes in exasperation.

“I remember what it says.”  Pixie One offers.

“Share.”  Pixie Too says gesturing to the crowd.

“When a demon has been locked out of the Underworld he can return if the conjurers return with him and negotiate new terms for his residence.”

“How do they do that?  How long does something like that take?  How will they get there?”

“I don't care what you do lady.  Google It!  I've got bigger problems.”  Pixie Too nods towards the scene playing out between TP and Pixie One.  The faerie is holding the pixie close and listening to her tearful pleas.

“Fix this TP.  I don't want you to lose your head.  I love you so much.   Don't leave me.”

Turning around Pixie Too collects Pixie One.  “Time to go.  I can't believe I let you talk me into wasting time with this one.  He's a bad boy you said.   It'll be fun you said.”

“We weren't bored?”  Pixie Too squeaks through sniffles.

“Next year we're going to Sturgis.  Where it's quiet!”

“Sturgis...again?”  Pixie Too whines.

There is another puff of smoke and the pixies go out the same way they came in.

Dobby and TP sit quietly on the table whispering, the ginger tabby nods frequently.

“There's a trick to traveling to the Underworld, because I'm not from there, I have to die.”

“No.”  Writer Lady protests.

“It's for transportation purposes.   I'd come back.”   Dobby says.

“Transportation purposes?”

“TP says this kind of travel is hard on earthly beings, something is always destroyed either the body or the spirit.   He says that if I'm already dead nothing will be sacrificed.”

“You'll be sacrificed, you'll be dead.”

“It's going to be okay Mom.   TP's done this before.”

“How many times has TP done this?”

“Lots of times.”  Dobby says looking around the room.

“Were they successful?”

“Yeah.”

“I really don't like this Dobby.”

“I know Mom.   I know.” The ginger tabby says rubbing his head against Writer Lady's ankle.   “This is the only way to fix our mistake.   It's a new adventure.  I want to go Mom.”

“You always just do what you want.  Why are you asking permission now?”

“Because in order for this to work you have to see my dead body and you have to cry.”  Dobby says.

“Can't someone else do it?”  Writer Lady asks looking at Dobby.

“Because you're my Mom your tears will have the greatest power.  You want us to get there safely don't you?”   Dobby asks.

“Of course I do kitty.”  She answers lowering her head.

“This isn't right.” Tinkletoes says to TP.

The group has gathered in the bonus room, Writer Lady sitting in a chair is scared and unsteady.

“The negative energy coming from Writer Lady will propel Dobby and Damon into the Underworld.  They need gas for their journey.   Her cries will make great go-go juice.”  TP says.   “I'll signal when we get there.”

Tinkletoes nods.

Dobby takes a moment to say his good-byes reminding Dylan to be good and patting Furnatche on the head.  He stops to talk to Ray. “Make sure Mom doesn't miss me too much.”

“Dude...I totally got this.”  Ray responds.

He stops in front of Tinkletoes last.  “Take care of Mom for me.”

Tinkletoes nods and says, “Keep your eyes open.   Stay alert.  Focus on the mission.  Take no prisoners and come back soon, I'm not done kicking your... (Tinkletoes looks at the boys) I'm not done beating you at Halo.”

“Sorry man but you were done a long time ago.”

“You're pretty good for something without thumbs.  Come back, I want a re-match.”

“It's time.”   TP says.

“I really don't want to do this.” Writer Lady says looking up to Tinkletoes.

  Squatting down to face her Tinkletoes says.  “I know.  I would take the bullet for you if I could.   I can't.  We're all here for you.  You're not alone.  A soldier never is.  Not really.”

“Okay.”   TP says.

Leaning against Tinkletoes for a moment Writer Lady closes her eyes.  Opening them she looks around the room.  Peter, Dylan, Furnatche, Carp, Ray, Diomedes, and TP are all nearby.  The cauldron to the Underworld is standing in the center of the room.  Damon stands next to it, waiting to leave.   Dobby's body is laying on the floor, limp and empty of life.  The ginger tabby looks like he was laying on his side preparing for a brief nap when something went terribly wrong.  His eyes open and distant.   Mouth open waiting to speak.  No effort was needed to cry out in shock and anguish.  Knowing Dobby will be returning doesn't help.  She has to reach out for him, petting him, begging him to return to her.  Soon after, Damon reaches out gently picking up Dobby's body and disappearing down the cauldron.

Tinkletoes collects Writer Lady helping her stand up and holding her close.  “It's okay.  He's gone.  He can come back now.”

Writer Lady hides her head and holds on to the self-proclaimed mercenary for all it's worth.  The sobbing continues as TP disappears down the cauldron.  Several minutes pass and Writer Lady is still crying.

“How long are we doing this part?”  Dylan asks looking up at Peter.  Peter shrugs.

A high pitched squeal is heard as a bright rainbow erupts from the cauldron.

“There's the signal.”  Tinkletoes says.  “Dobby made it to the Underworld. They're safe.”  He says to Writer Lady.  She continues crying.  Tinkletoes looks at Writer Lady and holds her closer.  The corners of his mouth turn up slightly and he closes his eyes.  Several minutes later, she is still crying.

“Is everything all right?”  Carp asks Tinkletoes who shrugs.

“Maybe she didn't hear me.”   He says.   Tinkletoes stretches his arms out so he can look at Writer Lady.   “Did you hear me?  TP signaled.  Dobby and Damon made it to the Underworld safely.  Everything is all right.”

Writer Lady cries some more.

“It's okay...it's okay.”  Tinkletoes says, hugging her some more.

Ray crosses the room to where Tinkletoes and Writer Lady are standing.  “I think it's Ray Time.”  He says.

Tinkletoes shoots Ray a dirty look.

“Dobby said I should make sure she doesn't miss him too much.”  Ray points to Writer Lady, “That totally looks like missing to me.”  He says disappearing.  He returns, holding Dobby's food dish and one of the cat's toys in his mouth. Opening his mouth the toy falls out and lands in the bowl.  “Duuuude....I'm the cat.  Feed me.”

Tinkletoes looks at Ray and growls, crooking a finger, Tinkletoes gestures Ray to his other side and away from Writer Lady.   “What do you think you're doing?”

“Dude...my job.   Keeping her busy.  She needs a cat.  I'm the cat.”
“No you're not.  Besides, I've got this.” Tinkletoes whispers rubbing Writer Lady's back.   “I'm good at it too.  So go away.”

“She's still crying.”  Ray points out.

“She's upset.   It's a mother's love.  It takes a while.”

“But, I'm the cat.”  Ray protests.

“I'm being the hero here.  This is my moment.  Whatever it takes.  So you can't be the cat.”

“Dude, it's my job.   Dobby said.”

Tinkletoes shakes his head, “Not happening.”

“I'm the cat.”  Ray repeats.

“I'm the guy right now.  I'm the hero.  If I have to be a cat, I'll be a cat.   I'm in charge.   There is no bigger pussy...” Tinkletoes looks over and sees the boys in the room.  “There is no bigger pussycat here than me.  Go Away.”

“I'm the cat.”

“Ray!”  Tinkletoes says.

Detecting Tinkletoes' rising tension Writer Lady looks up to find Ray standing across from her holding Dobby's food dish, the cat toy perched precariously along one edge.

“Hi Ray.”  She says.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing with Dobby's dish?”  She asks sniffling.

“Um...”  Ray looks at Tinkletoes who is glaring, swallowing nervously he says, “I'm the cat.  Feed me?”

“You're the cat?”  Writer Lady asks as she starts wiping the tears from her face.

  Ray nods.

“O...kay.”   She says looking at Tinkletoes who shrugs.  “Then I guess you need something to eat don't you?”  Thanking Tinkletoes, Writer Lady removes herself from his embrace and goes in search of human appropriate cat food.

 Tinkletoes glares at Ray after Writer Lady has left the room.

“She asked me what I was doing.”  Ray explains sheepishly.

“I'm watching you Ray.  I'm watching you.”  Tinkletoes says.  “Go get your food kitty.” 

    *Dobby Cat Apostos may be gone from this world but his character remains.  Look for him in future posts, doing the way cool things he always wanted to do and being the Very Important Feline my real life Dobby dreamed of becoming. 

   

   
       This post was written in loving memory of a dear friend, companion, and writing partner.  He sat by my side from the initial stirrings of what would become Saturday Night Silliness through the conception and writing of my first novel last November.  He truly heard it all and some of it has been bad.  So bad. 
  I am a writer but this is one of those times when I have few words.  This is the best I can do.  Thank you for enriching my life, waking me up, sending me to bed, and most of all writing with me.  You were a good kitty and have earned this rest.  Sleep well Dobby.  Sleep well.
  

    

That's One Way To Get It Out

Diomedes stands in the doorway waiting expectantly for a response.

“What can he do?”  Writer Lady asks.

“Be the one who gets poked with those horns for one thing.”  Tinkletoes says.

“He does have thick skin and scales.  The dragon has a better chance at survival than the rest of us.”  Carp agrees.

“We could tell him, show him what the problem is, and see if he has any ideas.”  Writer Lady says.

“Mi'lady?” Diomedes calls, waiting for permission to enter the room.

“Come in Diomedes, please.”  She answers.

Diomedes enters the room, passing the couch, and entering the demon's line of sight.

“AAAAAAAA!”  Damon bellows upon seeing Diomedes rising from the couch to his full height.   Stopping Diomedes looks at the demon and studies him closely. “Hello.”   He says.

“AAAHR!”   The demon rumbles more loudly.

Diomedes' skin begins pulsing, changing from the dragon's current green color to a dark gray.

“Did that thing just change colors?”   Tinkletoes whispers to Writer Lady.

“Yes Diomedes did just change color.”   Writer Lady says correcting him.

“Why?”

“Being a mythical creature Diomedes is not limited to the parameters of form and color that we are.”

Tinkletoes keeps looking at Writer Lady waiting for more information.

“I wrote him that way.”   She says looking at Tinkletoes and rolling her eyes. “Diomedes is not your typical dragon.  His colors and powers change along with his environment, living conditions, and immediate needs.  Being born in an enchanted forest the bright green color is his default color.  The dark gray means he is faced with a potentially volatile situation.   Everything works really fast in dark gray.  Diomedes has heightened sensitivities, sharper and faster thinking skills, and wicked fast reaction times.  Every color he can turn has its own powers.”

“That's quite a weapon you built there.”  Tinkletoes says.   “What else can he do?”

“I really don't think this is the time...”

“You can't remember can you?”

“I have notes.  Somewhere.”

“It's all that coffee you drink.  You drink way too much coffee.”

“Bite me.”   Writer Lady says.

“One of these days you're going to say that to the wrong person.  There are zombies.”  Tinkletoes says.

Writer Lady rolls her eyes.  “There are no zombies.”

“Art imitates life.   There wouldn't be so many zombie shows and movies out there if it wasn't really happening.  Think about it.”   Tinkletoes says, tapping  the side of his head with his finger.

They watch as the dragon and demon stand facing each other.  Damon ready to...well, whatever it is a demon does in this situation and Diomedes ready to respond.

“What happens if he turns red?”

“There are several shades of red that he can turn but a bright, true red is the worst—destruction by fire.”  She answers without looking away from the situation at hand.

“Only the enemy, right?”  Tinkletoes asks.

“Um...not necessarily.”  She answers, her voice lowering by the time she has reached the end.

“He won't just destroy everything will he?”  He asks.

Writer Lady looks at Tinkletoes.  “This from Mr. Destroy first and ask questions later?”  She asks.  “I'm thinking that it's up to Diomedes because when I created the character I never really specified.”

“You never specified?   That's an important detail isn't it?" Tinkletoes shakes his head.   "When a commander chooses a team for a mission they know everything about those soldiers their background, their training, how well they take orders, how well they improvise in a combat situation.  The soldiers know what their mission is, exactly what they're supposed to do, and what they're not supposed to do.”

“I don't write that way.   I create a rough sketch of who my character is, put them in the situation I have created, and follow them around writing down what they do.   I find out more about them as I write down what they do.   If I want to know other things I figure out the answer when the question arises.”

Tinkletoes runs a hand down his face.

“So the rough sketch that is Diomedes?”  Carp asks.

“He's just a big ol' mood ring.”  Writer Lady says grinning.   “Right now a storm is brewing.”

“Cool!”   Ray says.  “I think we need popcorn.”  He says crossing the room to the kitchen.

“Ray!”   Tinkletoes yells.

“I know, I know, sit down.”  Ray says returning to his original spot.

“It seems you have a problem sir.”  Diomedes says looking at Damon.

“AAAAAR!”

“Might we remove that for you?”  The dragon asks.

Damon bellows again, raising a hand to his face, smacking himself on the outside of his bulging nostril.

“Yes.”  Diomedes confirms.  “We would like to relieve you of that.”

“AAAR! AAAARR!”  Damon bellows hitting himself with so much force that sunblock squirts out of the demon's nostril coating his nose and splattering across Diomedes' torso.

“What a mess.”  Writer Lady says.  Disappearing from the room she returns with towels for both the demon and the dragon.

“Thank you Mi'lady.”  Diomedes says taking the towel from her and wiping himself off.

Writer Lady steps over to Damon with another towel.   The demon screeches at her and takes a step back.

“Leave him.”  Tinkletoes says.

Writer Lady looks at him questioningly.

“He wants to be left alone.  Don't push it.”  He says.

Letting out a sigh, Writer Lady takes a step back.  Damon growls a couple of times taking in sharp breath, then another.

“I know that sound.”  She says.

Writer Lady, Tinkletoes, Carp, Dobby, Ray, Dylan and Peter all take turns looking at each other.  Damon takes in another sharp breath.

“DUCK!”

Everyone hits the floor putting as much space between themselves and the demon as possible ending up dog piled on the far side of the room.

“Aaa-CHOO!”

The bottle dislodges itself from the demon's nostril making a resounding thud when it hits the front door.  The demon himself traveling in the opposite direction makes a much softer noise when he lands.  After several seconds Diomedes' voice calls out, “Mi'lady.  It is safe to rise.”

Writer Lady looks up to see Diomedes standing in front of the wall, holding Damon up by his shoulders.  There is little mess other than the sunblock covering the Damon's face.  The table holding TP in his glass has been overturned as well.

“That's one way to get it out.”  Tinkletoes says.

Slim Pickings

“How did that happen?”  Writer Lady asks.

“The more important question is who's going to pull it out.”  Carp says.

Everyone in the room gives pause, studying Damon's needle sharp horns, not to mention his sheer mass.  If the demon starts thrashing around when they are trying to help him...

“How did he get that up in there?”  Writer Lady asks looking closely at the demon's bulging nostril.

A sharp ping can be heard coming from TP's glass cell.  “Demons are really stretchy.”  TP says.

“This isn't going to be fun.”  Writer Lady says.

“No it isn't.”   Tinkletoes agrees, looking Damon in the eye he points to the couch and gestures for the demon to sit down, as the demon sits down the couch creaks in protest.

Writer Lady studies Damon more closely.  “Do you think his breathing is labored?”    She asks.

“No.”  Tinkletoes says.

She continues watching the demon.  “It doesn't look like his breathing is labored.  Should we check his pulse?”  She asks.

“If he has trouble breathing we'll know.  His face will turn red.”  Tinkletoes says, but before the word 'red' escapes his lips completely,  “He's already red.  We'll catch it if he turns blue.”

“Blue is a more critical sign.”  Carp agrees.  "We need to sit down and brainstorm so we can come up with the best solution possible.”

Looking at the couch straining under the demon's mass everyone sits down on the floor.

“Who has a suggestion?”   Carp asks.

“Have him blow his nose.”  Peter says.

“Hit him on the back of the head with something so the bottle falls out?”  Writer Lady asks.  Tinkletoes looks at her.  “A pillow or something.”   She explains.

“Pick it out.  Like a booger.”  Dylan says hiding his face as giggles escape.

“Pissing contest?”  Ray asks.   “Wait...wrong body part.  Sorry.  If he ever gets a bottle stuck, you know...”

“We'll know what to do.”  Carp says finishing Ray's thought.

“Thanks Ray.”  Tinkletoes says shaking his head.

“I like to help.”  Ray says grinning, standing up, he heads to the kitchen.

“Ray, where are you going?”  Tinkletoes asks.

“Kitchen.  It's been a rough couple of hours.  I need...”

“To sit down.”

“But...”

“Sit down Ray.”  Tinkletoes says.

Ray returns to his seat muttering a little.

“Any other suggestions?”  Carp asks.

Writer Lady, Carp, and Ray all look at Tinkletoes.

“What?”  Tinkletoes asks.  “When he gets tired of having the bottle up there he'll pull it out.”

“Why did you bring Damon in here then?”

“I got tired of babysitting.”  Tinkletoes says.

“How could you be tired when you didn't do anything?”  Writer Lady asks.

Both Tinkletoes and Writer Lady start yelling at the same time.

“Have you ever kept a demon busy?”

“There is a bottle up his nose.  An entire bottle!   How is that watching him?”

“One minute he was looking at it, sniffing it, and the next...it was up there.”  Tinkletoes says gesturing to his face.

“Men never can do this crap right.”  Writer Lady says.

“Which is why women are supposed to take care of the babies!”

A hush falls, quieting the room.  It's deadly quiet.  Freakishly quiet.   It's creepy.

“Duuuude.  You just said the wrong thing.”  Ray says.

Writer Lady's face grows red, her eyes become deep dark wells of...they are like a void or something.  It's not a good sign.

“It's a good thing he's just a demon then isn't it?”  Writer Lady asks having quieted her voice.  She is composing her temper, for the moment.

A scraping sound fills the room, followed by a thump.  Scrape...thump. Scrape...thump.  Everyone looks around seeking the noise's source.   Dylan finds it first.  “He's doing it!”  The boy exclaims pointing to the demon.   The group watches as Damon lifts a hand to his nostril and scrapes at the bottle's lid with his thumb and forefinger.  After several minutes he successfully unscrews the lid from the bottle but after that nothing more.

“I knew that when I got back stateside things would be slow, but sitting around watching a demon pick his nose...”  Tinkletoes says.

“Duuuude.  The movie theater closed, we have to do something.”

Writer Lady runs her hand down her face stopping to cover the smile crossing her lips.  The darkness has dissipated, replaced with amusement at the situation and affection for those sharing the moment with her.   “Ray does have a point.” She agrees.  She looks back and studies the demon as he...works.   “TP said demons are really stretchy, if we could figure out how to communicate with him...”

“If he pulled on the outer edge of his nostril...”

“Someone could reach in and pull the bottle out.”  Writer Lady finishes.

“Someone with small hands.”  Carp offers looking at Dylan.

“His head will have to held still.  He has to be okay with us doing it too.”   Writer Lady adds.

“Those horns could kill all of us.”   Tinkletoes says.

“Perhaps I could be of assistance.”

Writer Lady, Tinkletoes, and Carp look up to find Diomedes sitting in the hall just outside the entryway.