Around The Mixing Bowl

“Do you know what you might want to do?  When...” Tinkletoes asks, everyone is working together in the kitchen to put together Diomedes' magical meal.

“You're asking me out?  Now?”  Writer Lady asks standing over a large bowl as she mixes noodle dough.

Tinkletoes looks around the room.   Everyone: Ray, Carp, Peter, Dylan, TP, Diomedes, even Furnatche is helping.   Mural Man and House would be but they are made out of paper after all.   They aren't much help with this part.  These things happen.

“We are here doing this.  It's gonna take a while.”

“What is it people normally do?”  Writer Lady asks.  “Dinner?”

“When?”  Tinkletoes presses.

“I don't know.  What would be a good day for you?”

“Tomorrow?”   Tinkletoes asks.

“Demons, dragons, Dobby dying and returning, diarrhea and making enough homemade noodles to feed a full grown dragon.  No, I'm not moving tomorrow. At all.”

Both continue working.  Tinkletoes adding flour to the dough.  Writer Lady mixing it up.

“We could try to go out next weekend.”   Writer Lady suggests.

“Next weekend?”   He repeats.

“Yes.  The current situation should be resolved.  Everyone will have had some rest.  Diomedes might still be visiting.  He seems to be enjoying getting to know everyone.”

“I can't next weekend.  I'm busy.”  Tinkletoes says.

“You're always here.   You practically live here, how can you be busy?”

“I am.”  Tinkletoes counters.

Writer Lady looks at the self proclaimed mercenary waiting for more information.

“My buddy, Anlace, the one with the lightsaber shop?  He needs a favor.  I'll be meeting him at a con and helping out.”

“Oh.”   Writer Lady says.

“The castle's portcullis defending fair maiden's heart begins its achingly slow yet short descent back into its locked position.”   Carp narrates.

TP's giggling can be heard from the opposite side of the kitchen.  The faerie disappears reappearing next to Tinkletoes wearing a distinctly cut Cuban style suit and holding a Conga drum.  “You've got some 'splainin' to do!”  The faerie calls out, beating on the drum.

“No he doesn't.”  Writer Lady says looking at TP, she lowers her eyes, and returns to her work.

TP spins around quickly losing the suit and the drum.  When he stops spinning he is wearing the robes of a Jedi elder.   The faerie is sporting the elongated ears and distinctive green skin of Yoda.  “Yes he does.   He does.”

“He's a grown man.  He doesn't have to explain himself.”  Writer Lady says not looking up from her dough.

“Yes. I do.”   Tinkletoes says.   “Anlace has liked my lightsaber designs for a while now.  He's been after me to design a line of custom lightsabers.   I finally said I would.”

Silence fills the room as everyone waits for something deep and emotional to come out of Tinkletoes' mouth.   Something juicy.

“What made you decide to do it now?”  Writer Lady asks.

“I was going to sell my lightsabers to Anlace to pay for the replacement of your shed and lawnmower.   Anlace wouldn't take them.  He said he would rather work with me on this project.  I could keep my collection and we could both make some money.

“This weekend is the first con where your designs will be for sale?”  Writer Lady asks.

“Yep.   All of them.  He made posters and stuff.  I kinda have to be there.” Tinkletoes admits.

“So, in other words, the only reason we can't go out is that you have a prior business commitment.”

“Yeah.”

“Then I understand.  We can go out another time.”   Writer Lady says.

Tinkletoes stops working and studies Writer Lady closely.  “You're not mad?”  He asks.

“No.”

“You understand?”

“Yep.”

Tinkletoes stands in one spot not moving.   Dobby walks over to him to see if he's all right.

“What just happened?”   Tinkletoes asks looking at Dobby.

“She understands.  Mom can be very understanding about these things.”  Dobby says.

The self proclaimed mercenary is speechless.

“It's okay. I'll explain it to you some other time.”  Dobby says.  “There is an art to understanding Mom.”

“He has to put together the slide show first.”  TP giggles.   “With a slide rule and a mime.”   The faerie snaps his fingers.   “Here's your textbook.”   He says giggling.  A book as thick as “War and Peace” is floating through the air next to TP.

“I'm kind of busy here.”  Tinkletoes says.   “What's it say?”   He asks.

“Never instigate war with Writer Lady and you will always be at peace.”

Writer Lady watches the exchange.   “I'm really not that complicated.”  She says.

“You're not easy either.”  Tinkletoes counters.

“A woman's not supposed to be easy.”

“You're not.”  He says.

“You already said that.”   She points out.

“So Mom, how's that dough coming?”   Dobby asks changing the subject.

“I think we're ready for the next step.”

“Infusion Time!”  Dylan calls out.

Diomedes stops cutting a batch of noodles and puts down his knife.  Both he and TP stand on either side of Writer Lady at the mixing bowl.  The room lightens and darkens as Bugsy with the help of Diomedes and TP generate the magic that becomes part of the noodle dough.  The combined spells make the dough pulse and glimmer filling the room with a glittering light.

“It looks like this batch is ready for roll out.”  Tinkletoes announces.

Diomedes picks up the bowl emptying the dough on to a board that Ray and Carp are holding.  The board carrying the freshly enhanced dough is placed on the counter next to the dough Diomedes is working on waiting to be patted out and cut into noodles.

Writer Lady and Tinkletoes start working on another batch of noodle dough.  After several minutes she says, “If you really wanted to have dinner.   I could come out.”

“Where?”

“I don't know.  Wherever it is you're going next weekend.  I could meet you at the con.”

He looks at Writer Lady in disbelief.

“It's a long way to go.” Tinkletoes says.

“I have been known to get out of the house every now and then.”

“It's kind of a big place.”

“I'm a big girl.  I think I can handle it, unless you don't want me there.”

Sensing a trap, Tinkletoes pales slightly and answers carefully, “It's not that.  I wouldn't want you to be bored.  I don't know what I'm gonna be doing.   You could be spending a lot of time alone.”

“After all this,”  Writer Lady says gesturing to the group of people, animals, and magical creatures all stuffed into her kitchen.  “Time alone in a new place might be nice.   If I get bored, then coming home to what's familiar will be even better.”

“It sounds like you've got things all worked out.”  Tinkletoes says.

“Not really.  The details shouldn't be too difficult to handle.  If a person is committed to getting something done.”  She counters.

Tinkletoes looks back at Writer Lady, “I wouldn't have said all the things I did if I wasn't ready to take my place on the front lines.”

“Are you sure?   From where I'm standing you're not very forthcoming with your details which makes you appear a little bit unprepared.”  Writer Lady says.

“I'm ready for this.”   Tinkletoes says, pouring flour into the mixing bowl.

For a brief moment, Writer Lady's lips turn up slightly.  She looks away and goes back to her work.

Taking the opportunity to turn to Dobby, the self proclaimed mercenary, zombie slayer, and our greatest protection against an alien invasion (to hear him tell it) quietly mouths the word, “HELP” as emphatically as he can.