A Self-Proclaimed Mercenary And His Cookies

*I created a teeny tiny play this time.

FADE IN.

INT. --Bonus Room

Tinkletoes sits in the bonus room. It is decorated for Christmas. Snow is falling outside.

Dramatic reading of Carp Fisher’s “Tinkletoes’ Christmas Mission.”

Narration by: Someone Really Cool.

Narration begins:

Tinkletoes looked at the list.

He saw the snow falling outside.

Tucking the list into his waist band...

...the self-proclaimed mercenary stood, rising to his full height.

A man on a mission.

He was present.

At the ready...

It was a mission like nothing that had come before.

This soldier was not in pursuit of the enemy, baked goods, lighted sabers...or other sci-fi toys.

(Tinkletoes looks at Narrator) : They’re not toys, they’re collectibles. Would you call a Bergara B-14 a toy?

(TP pops in dressed as Raggedy Ann): Rifles are party favors in Faerie. (giggling)

(Tinkletoes to TP): That doesn’t count.

TP: Does too!

Tinkletoes: Does not!

TP: Does Too!

Tinkletoes: Look, who’s wearin’ the boots here?

The faerie holds up one black booted foot.

Tinkletoes: You may be wearing some kind of boots but I’m the one wearin’ the combat boots and I say it doesn’t!

Narrator (To Tinkletoes): You do realize that you’re arguing with a faerie dressed up as a rag doll, don’t you?

Tinkletoes growls.

Narrator: I’d like to continue if that’s okay. I’m sorry if I upset you. It’s just well...I got excited. The cookies will be coming out of the oven soon.

Tinkletoes: Who’s baking?

Narrator: Aunt Purdy just whipped up some…

Tinkletoes: Without me?

Narrator: She was going to wait but Writer Lady pointed out that with it being December 21^st you might be gone for a while.

Tinkletoes: They’re making cookies? Without me?

Narrator (weakly): She mentioned making more.

Tinkletoes: When I get back?

Narrator: Yeah...um...sure.

Tinkletoes (raises brow): What kind?

Narrator: What?

Tinkletoes: What kind?

Narrator: Your favorite?

Tinkletoes: What’s my favorite?

Narrator: Choc…

Tinkletoes shakes head.

Narrator: Peanut b…

Tinkletoes shakes head.

Narrator: doodles?

Tinkletoes: Chocolate chip. I’m a chip man. But they wouldn’t be making my favorite cookies because it’s Christmas. They’d make those white cookies that get frosted and decorated with sprinkly things.

Narrator (nods): She’s making sugar cookies.

Tinkletoes (paces): They won’t be making more later. They never make more sugar cookies later. There is only one batch of sugar cookies at Christmas and it’s mine!

Narrator: But you’re Tinkletoes. The world famous self-proclaimed mercenary. A man on a mission and a soldier on a Christmas mission cannot give up. He cannot fail! In the name of Christmas the mission must prevail!

Tinkletoes (to Narrator): You’re right!

The self-proclaimed mercenary turns towards the kitchen.

Tinkletoes: It appears that my mission has changed.

FADE OUT.

Paths Down A Long Dark Road

 (Personal Essay)

 I see my old self in you. The sadness. The constant worry about the future. The unending need to prove to yourself that you can take care of yourself. That you are going to be okay. Let me tell you this now. I am using all caps for emphasis. Not because I’m yelling.

YOU ARE GOING TO BE OKAY.

You will. It doesn’t feel like it but you will. I have learned a lot over the last decade. Let me share with you what I’ve learned so your journey is easier.

You are surrounded by people who love you. That voice inside your head telling you how alone you are is lying. If you can’t see it then every day I want you to find one person that you know loves you and has your back. Each day look for a new person to add to the list. Write the list down and put it in a drawer or a box. Something that is hidden but close at hand. On the bad days take it out and read the list. Out loud. Remember these are the people who are there for you. They are also the ones who would miss you if you were gone.

There are stages of grief but you don’t go through them in any set order. It’s not like checking things off of a list. You don’t wake up one morning feel acceptance and bam! you’re done. You are going to move through the stages. In and out. Over and over for a long time. You may feel several in one day. You will have emotional days. Days full of difficult things that drain your energy and make you wish for simpler times.

There will be days that almost feel normal except when you remember that he or she is gone.

Some days will be sweet, happy, and spread out before you like buttercream over cake. Then you will feel guilty that you had that day because you aren’t supposed to have good times without him. The truth is that you are. You are supposed to have the good times, the funny times, and the crazy times. He loved you. He wouldn’t want you to die with his passing.

I spent a long time convinced that crying was showing weakness. Crying is not weakness in grief it is a testament to how much you loved. Something so beautiful cannot possibly be weak.

I can hear Dad now. “Have appropriate sadness because I was fuckin’ great. Keep going.”

I hear you Dad. I’m listening.

Keep going. Keep resting. You will start healing. Slowly it will get better.

Try not to make the same mistakes that I made. I realized this morning that I grieved for my late husband like he grieved for his wife from a previous marriage. He never let go of his grief. She was always in the forefront long after we were together.

After I had accepted losing him, grieving had become such a big part of my life that I kept grieving. For other things. Failed attempts at change, mistakes, perceived losses. A decade came and went and I was still grieving. Don’t do that. It does not make for a happy life.

As things change, as you learn to live in this new life you are building let yourself become uncomfortable again as you move away from the hurting. Don’t let living in grief become the forefront of your life. Don’t let it stay forever. Live with it not for it.

Don’t be afraid to change. To build something new. Be happy. Find joy again. Laugh all you want.

The events that took him from you are just a blip of the time that you had together. Remember all of it. It was beautiful.

Changing everything right away does not make the grieving process go faster. Just more complicated.

Loss of a loved one is a difficult journey. You can get through this. You will get through this.

Love yourself, trust your own instincts about change, if something feels like it has to be done right now you may be rushing things, take a step back and proceed a bit more slowly. You’ve got this. You really do.

Nightcap In The Library

The screen on Scotch’s cell phone lit up just as Pen was replacing the last book on the shelf.

How are things going? Are our friends still watching?

Pen read the message. “How long have I been in here?” She muttered. Pen picked up the fake novel and the phone and returned to Scotch’s bedroom. The spy-in-training quickly shoved the book into her purse before she made another appearance at the bedroom window.

The black SUV was still parked on the street outside. She noticed that the doors were closed and the windows had been rolled all the way up against the chill of early morning. The vehicle shook here and there which was consistent with three men of their “friends” size attempting to make themselves comfortable within a limited space. It looked like they would be staying for the night. Or what was left of it.

Pen moved out of view and sent a quick response of “yes” to Scotch. She returned to the hidden room and looked at it to make sure she had not left any tell tale signs that she had been in it. There was a button with a sign next to the room’s entry that read, “Headmaster’s Coming.” Pen retrieved a clean, dry cloth from the bathroom and pressed the button, keeping her fingers covered with the cloth to avoid leaving fingerprints. The door closed, as the room tucked itself away the wall lowered itself to the floor, the bed sliding back into place in front of it.

Pen checked the time on the phone. One corner of her mouth turned up in a smile. She wondered where she wanted to be when Scotch returned. Her told her to wait for him in the bedroom. Pen sat down on the edge of the bed. “There’s no way he’s going to believe that I’ve spent the entire time he was gone on such an uncomfortable bed.” She grabbed the robe that matched her nightgown out of the closet, heading back into the library she prepared to wait.

The bookcase door slid open in front of him, although it was completely dark Scotch knew that he was not alone in the room. The spy stepped forward slowly looking, listening, even smelling for anything unusual or different in the apartment. There was no movement or sound, but there was the faint scent of...he knew that smell. Scotch entered the room pushing the door back into place. He did not utter a single word. The only move he made was to the drink cabinet. Scotch poured himself a nightcap, enjoying that first sip. “Were you scared or did you just miss me?” He asked.

“Neither.” Pen answered.

“I told you to wait for me in the bedroom.”

He heard Pen slide along the leather of his couch. The lamp next to her clicked on. A dim light revealed his partner sitting on it wearing… Scotch blinked for a moment to refocus. Pen filled out the sheer nightgown superbly.

“I am not a child. I’m perfectly capable of choosing a safe place to wait.”

Scotch looked at Pen without replying.

“I couldn’t get comfortable. That bed is a torture device. How do you sleep?”

“A good spy can sleep anywhere.”

“I’m a chemist. Where do chemists sleep?”

Scotch raised a brow. He grinned for a moment and said, “Chemists sleep in the bedroom across the hall. It has a more comfortable mattress on it. As a spy you should have known that.” He took another sip of the amber liquid. “I’m sure that as a scientist you are used to following specific and dedicated instructions. There are probably good reasons for that. Spies can’t always follow instructions.”

Pen looked at Scotch. “Then why are you always quoting rules to me? And subheadings? Setting an example of following the instructions?”

“There are always exceptions to rules. There are always going to be unanticipated situations. There are going to be times that you are on a mission and the background information is out of date or one key bit of information is missing. You only discover it when you get out into the field. The only way you are going to be able to work through those problems if you are always looking around, taking in your surroundings, verifying the information you were given at the briefing, gathering new information. You are always on duty. You are always a spy.”

“Even with you?” Pen asked.

“When I leave you on your own yes.”

“That does not make any sense.” Pen pointed out.

“If you had done any searching on your own while I was gone you would have found the other bedroom and you wouldn’t still be awake in the wee hours of the morning. You are a terrible spy.”

“Where is this coming from?”

“You have to quit fumbling around. You have to focus Pen.”

Scotch was not planning on telling Pen anything. It would be much safer to keep her in the dark. McKinney's words haunted him. “Pen is a beginner, you are not. Everything is new to her; you know how everything is supposed to work. If you’re smart, you’ll use your differences to your advantage.”

It had been a long day and an even longer night, Pen had participated in all the fun that she could stand for one day. “If I’m such a terrible spy then maybe I should quit.”

“You can’t.” He said. "It's too dangerous."

*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.