The Saga Of A Man Called Tink

The Saga of a Man Called Tink

Tink...Tink

A name you will never forget

The name of a legend

The soldier from Tibet.

So begins “The Saga of a Man Called Tink.”

Carp dictates his story to a feather quill that puts words to parchment with efficiency and speed much to Peter's amazement and Dylan's delight.

“Tibet?”  Peter asks.

“I know...Tinkletoes isn't from Tibet and he looks nothing like a Tibetan but it rhymes.”

Peter looks at Carp doubtfully.

“I'm the writer and this is all about creating the perfect vision.”  Carp announces.  “I am taking creative license.  Writers can do that.”

Peter is not convinced.

“A vision of who?”   Dylan asks.

“Tinkletoes.”  Peter answers.

Shaking his head, the little boy looks up at Carp and says, “Try again.”

Carp clears his throat loudly.  The quill lifts from the parchment and waits.  Carp tries again.

Enter our hero.  A man who has fought brave battles.

“Against Writer Lady.”--TP giggles.

Battles of Wits.

“He's never won.”  More giggling.

A soldier wielding a formidable weapon.

Peter and Dylan move through the room dueling with cardboard cores from emptied rolls of gift wrap.

Roughing it in hostile territories.  Braving the elements.   Eating only what he can find.

Dylan runs out of the room returning with a rectangular plastic container from the kitchen.   The lid has the words “Property Of Tinkletoes” written across the top in bold black marker.  Dylan opens it and pulls out an elaborately decorated cupcake piped with buttercream.  It is a large white rose with a tiny pink rosebud in the center.  Dylan opens wide and Peter takes it out of his hand just in time.

“No Dylan those are his favorite.”  Peter says, replacing the fancy cupcake and giving Dylan one of the plainer looking ones.   Dylan makes a face.   “This one is better.  It has sprinkles on it.”  Peter says.  Dylan's expression does not change. “If you eat the other one Tinkletoes will be mad and you won't get to play Halo anymore.”  Peter points out.

“I love sprinkles.”  Dylan says accepting the cupcake and taking a big bite.

Tinkletoes, Diomedes, Mural Man, and House all hear Dobby coming long before he reaches the entry to the living room.

“Stop right there.”  Tinkletoes orders before the ginger tabby can step inside the room.  “What are you doing?”

“I've got your back?”  Dobby asks.

“So what's with the get up?”

“It was supposed to be armor but all I got was this stupid garbage bag.”

“What about the helmet?”

“Mom asked TP to help her make a Hazmat suit.  He's a little preoccupied.” Dobby explains.

“You need boots to wade through this.  Get some boots on and you can come in.” Tinkletoes instructs.

“I left my combat boots in Mom's room.”

“House, would you mind?”

Several seconds pass.  The pantry door creaks open and a feline sized pair of combat boots are unceremoniously spit out.   They fly across the kitchen floor, thumping against the base of a cabinet and ricochet back landing at Dobby's feet.

“Thanks.”  Dobby says stepping into boots that automatically lace up and tie on their own because...cat.  No thumbs.   Dobby sloshes through the muck, stopping next to Tinkletoes and Diomedes.

“This isn't going to work if everyone keeps heckling my story.”  Carp announces.

“Then tell a better one.”  Dylan responds.

Carp puts a hand to his forehead and closes his eyes for several moments.  He mutters ,“What to do.  What to do.  Since I am not entertaining you with my adventuresome prose I will dictate what I know.”

“No way man.”   Ray says.

Ignoring Ray, Carp begins.

Enter Tink .  

The Heroiest of all Heroes.

The man of the hour.

The soldier that men most admire and women most swoon over.

He enters the room boldly.

Each step heavy with purpose.

A man on a mission.

A woman to save.

The light in the room dims then returns suddenly, reflecting off his muscular chest.  It glistens with sweat.

His hair loosened from its binding while fighting blows in the windy entry. Flowing freely now and whipping against the open doorway.

TP giggles.

“Tinkletoes is not going to like this.”  Ray says, shaking his head.

Dylan also shakes his head in disapproval.  Peter, standing behind his younger brother, gently stops his head from moving.  Dylan looks up.   “But Peter, Tinkletoes doesn't have long hair.  This is wrong.”

“Creative license, my boy, creative license.”  Carp argues.

“Dylan, maybe we should go outside for a little while.”  Peter suggests.

“This is wrong, Peter.”  Dylan says as the boys leave the house.  “That story is terrible.  He made money with that stuff?  People pay for that?  Grown-ups don't make any sense.” 

“What are we doing?”  Dobby asks.

“Talking.”  Tinkletoes answers.  “When something goes wrong in battle you have to go back and look at the events leading up to the situation.”

“Keeping in mind what we know.”   Mural Man says.   “Diomedes has diarrhea.  Diahrrea is one of the digestive system's ways of saying there is something inside that doesn't belong and needs to come out.”

Tinkletoes nods.

“Sometimes this is a virus, parasite, bad food, or other stomach irritant.”

Both Tinkletoes and Dobby look at Mural Man taken aback by his knowledge.

“I come from Monitor Man.   He played a doctor once.  Not a G.P. a um...another kind of doctor.  But all doctors start out with a more general medical education and then move on to specialize.”

Taking one last look into the bonus room Tink sees her standing in the doorway. The woman of his heart.  The large innocent eyes, beautiful fine features, scared for him, the young couple, and for the fate of the house.   Her bosom heaves quickly as her breathing becomes more labored, she feels such fear for all of them.  There is so much love in her heart.

“I'll wait for you.”   She calls.

“You'd better.  I'm sexiest guy Ever.”   Tink answers with a grin showing bright, perfect teeth and turns to meet his enemy.

A fierce dragon with long talons and razor sharp teeth growls, snorting smoke, and threatening a pair of innocents.  “The only good human is a dead human,” the dragon growls. 

 

“Wouldn't this story be better if you paid attention to what was happening in the other room?  Diomedes isn't attacking anyone.”  Writer Lady points out.   “He's the one who's sick.   If anyone is the victim that poor dragon is.”

“TP never should have fed the dragon those cheese balls.”  Ray says.