Testing The Patience of a Self-Proclaimed Mercenary

“I’m just pointing out that the attic disappearing was funny until you realized that something of yours was up there too. How you take that information is up to you.”

“Like I said, she has a mean streak.” Tinkletoes says.

Writer Lady watches as Tinkletoes studies the room. Particularly where the wall meets the ceiling. The self-proclaimed mercenary sets his mug down on the counter. He retrieves a chair, placing it as close to the wall as possible, he stands on it. Tinkletoes begins pushing at the air where the ceiling used to be.

“What are you doing?” Writer Lady asks.

“What if this is one of House’s tricks? What if the ceiling and the attic are still here?”

“Like an optical illusion?” She asks.

He nods.

Writer Lady shakes her head. “Not possible.”

“Why?”

“Because if the ceiling was still there you would have knocked yourself unconscious. Your head is where the attic used to be.”

“Really? I didn’t realize that your ceiling was so low.”

“Where do you think the mud that was stuck to it last spring came from?"

Tinkletoes waits for more information.

“Your head. You came in last spring covered in mud after one of your and Carp’s camp outs.”

“It wasn’t a camp out.” He corrects.

“Okay, play date.”

“Carp is in training. He wants to be the greatest assassin in the world, he can’t do that without knowing how to disappear and go into hiding.”

Writer Lady looks at the six foot four inch self-proclaimed mercenary in his desert brown and forest green mixed camo garb. Tinkletoes has paired it with a black t-shirt encouraging sci-fi geeks of all philosophies to ‘Co-exist’ and asks, “You were going to teach him how to blend in?”

“Invisible. I’m like a chameleon, woman. I can walk into any bait and tackle shop in the state and no one blinks an eye.”

“That’s because they’re busy trying to close their mouths.”

Tinkletoes looks at Writer Lady. She turns away and checks on the kittens. He continues to study the room, contemplating where his hilts might be.

TP pops into the kitchen. “They’re not gone. You just can’t see them.” The faerie says.

Tinkletoes looks at TP. “Really? I had no idea.” The self-proclaimed mercenary responds. He clenches his jaw as he steps down off of the chair and commences looking in cabinets.

“What are you looking for?” Writer Lady asks.

“My hilts, a portal to my hilts, a hand to come through the wall and present me with what I want.”

“That would be the Lady of the Lake. She only looks after Excalibur so unless you need an enchanted sword...” Writer Lady counters.

“The Lady of the Lake can only visit if there’s water. Silly Human.”TP giggles.

Tinkletoes looks in both sinks then opens the dishwasher, seeing nothing but dirty dishes, he closes it to find Writer Lady glaring at him. “It was worth a try. Is there anything in the washer?”

She does not answer and continues glaring.

“I’m thinking that’s a ‘no’.”

TP flies in front of Tinkletoes and says, “They are not gone. House will give them to you, all you have to do is ask.”

Tinkletoes looks at the ceiling. “I want my hilts. Now!”

A piece of paper is fed down between the edge of the kitchen’s decorative molding and the wall. It falls to the floor. Tinkletoes picks it up. “No way Jose.” The self-proclaimed mercenary uses several choice words.

“You haven’t asked yet.” Writer Lady points out.

“Yes I did.” Tinkletoes counters.

“You didn’t ask. You ordered. Ask this time.”

Tinkletoes takes in a breath and prepares to begin shouting.

Writer Lady holds up a hand finger extended in a ‘wait’ gesture. “Ask nicely.”

“House, I’m ready for my stuff.”

Writer Lady rolls her eyes.

“TP will help.” The faerie proclaims. He flutters close to Tinkletoes and waves his hand along Tinkletoes’ jawline.

“My dear House, would you please be so kind as to return my hilts to me? I would really appreciate it.” The words flow out of Tinkletoes’ mouth to his and Writer Lady’s surprise.

“No.” House’s voice echoes throughout the room. “That request was not authentic.”

“Give me my hilts.”

“No!”

The color rises up Tinkletoes’ neck to his face turning both a vibrant red. “If you won’t bring them to me, I’ll find them myself.” He begins opening drawers, doing his own search. He tries to anyway. The moment that he pulls open a drawer it closes again.

“Don’t try my patience Tinkleboob, you can’t begin to keep up with me.” House proclaims. All of the cabinets and drawers begin opening and closing simultaneously.

Writer Lady moves out of the way. Tinkletoes runs back and forth across the kitchen looking for a glimpse of his precious hilts. Carp and Ray enter the kitchen a few minutes later.

“Morning all.” Carp says.

“Dudes.” Ray calls.

“Good morning. You’re just in time for the show.” Writer Lady says.

“A little help here.” Tinkletoes says between dashes.

“Sure.” Carp says, as the assassin-in-training begins to help. “What are we doing?”

“That’s easy.” Ray says, “Tinkletoes is trying to get a look in House’s drawers. You really need to find better hobbies, man.” Ray starts looking in the drawers located closest to the pantry. “I wonder if there are any cheese puffs around here.”

The pantry door opens and a bag of cheese puffs flies out at Ray. He catches it. Ray quickly opens the bag and commences snacking.

Tinkletoes notices Ray’s lack of movement out of the corner of his eye. He stops searching and asks,“What are you doing?”

“Eating cheese puffs.” Ray answers.

“Where did you get them?”

“House.”

“Did you ask for those?”

Ray answers slowly, between bites. “I said, ‘I wonder if there are any cheese puffs in here.’ She sent a bag flying, I caught it.”

Tinkletoes looks at Writer Lady. “He didn’t ask.” The self-proclaimed mercenary looks up and yells at the ceiling. “You gave him cheese puffs and he didn’t have to ask for them.”

“Yeah...and...so. What are you going to do about it, Tinkleboob?”

“What are you going to do about it?” Writer Lady asks.

A grin crosses Tinkletoes’ lips and a light comes to his eyes. “With an enemy like House a soldier always needs a secret weapon. I’m going to use mine.” The self-proclaimed mercenary reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of drawing charcoal.

When Changing Houses

“Changes to floor plan will commence in five, four, three, two, one...”

“Again?” Writer Lady stands in the middle of her bathroom wearing her bathrobe and waits for the walls to stop moving. The walls change from a white to a cool mint green color. She looks at the walls and mutters, “I feel like I traveled through time and been dumped in an ice cream parlor. All the room needs now is pink and white stripes.”

In a matter of seconds, accents are changed and Writer Lady finds herself surrounded by pictures and accessories covered in stripes of crisp white and bubble gum pink.

“And the nightmare is complete. Thanks House.”

“You’re welcome.” House responds.

She lets out a sigh and exits the bathroom only to find herself at the end of a long hallway. A hallway that looks like someone poured melted rainbow sherbet all over its walls or a unicorn sneezed all over them. At least there wasn’t any glitter. Not yet anyway. Rainbows and unicorns are usually followed by some sort of glitter.

The hallway narrows and lengthens with every step that she takes. Eventually Writer Lady reaches the final stretch. Spots Wash and Smudge Mal sit at the hallway’s end. The pair of kittens study her closely with a look of focus and determination. Writer Lady recognizes that look. It’s a look of...hunger. She closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them both cats are at her feet. Each kitten is sitting on his hind legs, looking up at her adoringly, empty bowl in paw.

“Food Provider, we love you. Feed us.” They cry.

“In a minute.” She answers. Writer Lady walks past them and turns right only to find another bathroom, This time, it’s flowery and pink. “Hell no. That is not staying.” To the left is her bedroom. “Finally,” escapes her lips as she enters the room, a pair of hungry kittens in tow. “Give me a second guys. I’ve just showered. Let me get dressed, then I’ll feed you.”

“We’re hungry.” Smudge says.

“We’re starving.” Spots cries.

“We need food now.” Both insist in unison.

“I’ll be right with you kitties.” She responds, removing clothes from the closet and undergarments from a drawer. “This will just take a minute.” Writer Lady is beginning to open her robe when a voice behind her says.

“You’re making them wait?” Tinkletoes asks.

Writer Lady closes her robe and turns to face the self-proclaimed mercenary. Tinkletoes is standing just outside the doorway with his favorite mug in hand.

“Yes. I’m asking them to wait while I get dressed. If you don’t mind.” She gestures for Tinkletoes to turn away and runs into the bedroom closet. “After I get dressed I will take these two into the kitchen and feed them.” She calls as she gets into her clothing.

“Good.” Tinkletoes calls back. “I’ve already been here for an hour and there still isn’t any coffee.”

Writer Lady steps out of the closet in her clothes and looks at Tinkletoes. She looks him over, studying him. “Have you broken both of your hands since you were here last?” She asks.

“No.”

“Then why didn’t you make the coffee?”

“It’s your house. It’s impolite to go mucking around in someone else’s kitchen.”

“Impolite?” Writer Lady questions, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Tinkletoes looks back at Writer Lady. His facial expression changes from one of confidence to one of confusion. He turns to the kittens. “Impolite. That was the right word, wasn’t it?”

Writer Lady clears her throat.

He looks at her again.

“The real reason that there isn’t any coffee made?” She asks.

“I’m the only one here so far. I’m not doing girl stuff.”

Writer Lady gives Tinkletoes a look of disdain. “If you want coffee, what are you doing here in the bedroom?”

“TP said that the kitchen was down this hallway.”

“No, it isn’t. The kitchen was next to the bonus room when I came to bed.”

“It’s not there now.”

“Changes to floor plan will commence in five, four, three, two, one...”

“Kitties!” The kittens run to Writer Lady and she scoops the pair up to safety. They watch as Tinkletoes disappears and the walls begin moving. The bed and dresser are replaced with the refrigerator and the stove. The door to the closet disappears and is replaced with what Writer Lady hopes is her pantry. The walls change from a dark espresso wood paneling to a much lighter pine.

“Okay, it’s a country theme.” Writer Lady mutters. “I might be able to get used to this.”

The windows get bigger and a small greenhouse window is added.

Writer Lady quickly calls out, “House, remember our agreement.”

The greenhouse window disappears to be replaced with a picture of a rooster. The larger windows shrink back to their original size.

Smudge looks up at Writer Lady. “I thought that you said that you wanted one of those.”

“I do but House and I have an agreement that no changes are to be made to her exterior.”

“Why?” Spots asks.

“How do I explain to the neighbors how things like second stories or windows are added without a single workman coming to the house?”

“That would be hard.” Smudge agrees.

The walls have stopped moving and things are no longer appearing or disappearing. Writer Lady finds the cats’ food dishes and quickly fills them.

“Looking good.” Tinkletoes says as he enters. “The new table is really big too, there’s room for everyone. I just passed it.” He continues looking around. “There it is.” He says with a gesture towards the counter closest to the stove. “There’s coffee.” The self-proclaimed mercenary announces as he crosses the room and pours himself a cup.

Writer Lady peruses the new kitchen more closely, “If the kitchen is in here then where’s the bonus room?”

“Maybe House used some of the space for a bigger kitchen.” Tinkletoes offers.

Writer Lady looks up. “The ceiling is higher.”

“Great, isn’t it?” Tinkletoes says. “It’s not so dark now.”

“If the ceiling higher then where is the attic?”

Tinkletoes looks at the new ceiling, “It looks like House got rid of it.”

“I have things stored up there.”

“Not anymore.”

Tinkletoes sips his coffee while Writer Lady fixes her own mug.

“I left prototypes for a new hilt design in the bonus room.”

Writer Lady looks at Tinkletoes with a blank expression.

He puts down his mug and mimics striking down a Sith lord.

“Oh...your toys.”

“Collectibles.”

“Between Ray, Dylan, Furnatche and the kittens being here...I decided to put them somewhere safe. They’re in the attic.”She grins mischievously.

Tinkletoes looks at the ceiling where Writer Lady’s attic used to be. “But the hilts are important. I need those.”

“No attic, no toys. It looks like they’re gone now.” Writer Lady points out. There’s more grinning.

 "Did I ever tell you that you've got a mean streak?" 

What Makes A Good Hero

I do not like to blog about writing because it seems like everyone who writes writes about writing. I prefer to travel off of the path that everyone else is taking. While I’m writing, anyway. Tonight, I feel compelled to share. When I feel compelled to share then y’all get a page full. At least. Because for me, talking writing = lots of words.

By the way, if I ever become too long winded, ask me about my cats, switch to cooking, move into shopping for food and skip over to going to the mall. I hate shopping. It shuts me up at least eighty percent of the time.

  Let me get back on topic. Yesterday, I was mowing my lawn. Yes, I’m still mowing. I don’t control the weather. Anyway, I was mowing and thinking about regardless of how much I enjoy doing it, after a full spring and summer of yard work I am ready for a break. Then that all too common phrase popped into my head, “I need a hero.” I need a hero, someone to save me from my yard work.

  Wishing for a hero to save you from your yard work is kind of like praying to God to save you from not finding toilet paper after you’ve sat down on the toilet in your own home and the house is empty. It seems like a waste of air. Heroes and deities are there for the hard stuff. In my mind at least. Yard work and missing toilet paper are not difficult problems.

The phrase, “I need a hero” led me back to heroes. What a hero is and how they should be defined. There are so many different types of heroes in writing. The hero, the reluctant hero, the anti-hero, the superhero among other variations. I thought more about it. A hero. If I got my hero, how would I describe him. I thought about it for several laps around the yard. I came up with this.

        The guy who shows up. 

  That’s it. It’s that simple. Silly huh? 

  Think about the heroes that you read, watch on television or in movies and talk about. They all have three things in common. They see that something is going wrong, they show up, and do everything that they can to help.

   I was thinking about heroes again tonight. Not because of yard work this time. I was just skipping through my thoughts and stopped there. It happens sometimes. Okay, a lot of the time. Most of the time.
  The people who show up make the best kinds of heroes. The characters who have difficulties, challenges, angry bosses, empty bank accounts, rebels trying to stay out of trouble but who stick their heads out there anyway (like Han Solo). Why do you think that Superman loved Lois Lane yet had a terrible time talking to her? Why did he have a horrible reaction to kryptonite? Without those things he would have been too perfect. To be accepted by readers he needed a weakness or two, some vulnerability. He needed to have humanity. All heroes do, but the people who see trouble, drop what they’re doing and show the hell up, they are the true heroes.

If you want to write a good hero, write characters that show up and help in every way that they can. They don’t have to be rich, gorgeous, have six pack abs, laser eyes, or capes. They just have to show up.