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.