Faerie Spyware

 

Recognizing the upper hand, Tinkletoes stands up. He exits the living room and crosses the hall way with reignited confidence. The self-proclaimed mercenary knocks on High Command’s door.

“Go Away.”

Knock-knock-knock.

“I know the sound of your knock. Go Away!”

Knock-knock-knock.

Writer Lady has already began talking before she opens the door. “Banned means you can’t come in, if you don’t believe me I will be happy to show you a dictionary.”

“There are no Nathans.” Tinkletoes says. “That is your argument?”

Writer Lady eyes Tinkletoes suspiciously. “Yes.”

“Would you mind stepping into the living room please.”

Writer Lady heads for the living room making it a point of closing the door to High Command behind her, just in case some Halo playing, baked good eating Neanderthal tries to pull a fast one.

“If you would turn your attention to Exhibit A and tell the jury what you see.” Tinkletoes says.

“A full living room, an empty cupcake container...”

“Anything else?” The self-proclaimed mercenary asks trying to hold back a grin.

“A whole lot of shirts and things that say ‘NATHAN’ on them.” Writer Lady responds slowly.

“A room full of NATHANS.” Tinkletoes says. “What have you got to say about that?”

“Three kids, a baby dragon, a full grown dragon, a faerie, a much loved Auntie, a demon, three cats, and an insomniac.” Her mouth begins to turn up in a smile. “If this group is a threat to your masculinity something might be wrong. You might want to get things checked.” Writer Lady looks around the room. “I’ll be in High Command if anyone needs me.” Writer Lady returns to her writing room shutting the door behind her.

Tinkletoes walks over to the empty cupcake container, picking it up, he turns it over hoping to find a few random leftover crumbs. Finding nothing, he sets the container back on the coffee table. The self-proclaimed mercenary sits down and frowns. He releases a long breath and doesn’t say anything, not a word.

Dobby approaches,  the name ‘NATHAN’ in a vibrantly glowing orange covers the ginger tabby’s snow white chest. “You wanna get back to the game?” He asks.

“Nah. I can’t...focus...Halo...while he’s in there.” Tinkletoes says looking in the direction of High Command’s door.

Dobby shakes his head. He reaches out, placing a paw on Tinkletoes’ forearm. “If Mom says she’s only writing a character with that name then she’s only writing a character with that name.”

“If only I could be as sure of that as you are. If only I could see what she was writing...”

Sensing an opportunity for mischief, TP flies over to the pair.

The door to High Command opens and Carp exits. The assassin-in-training enters the living room and approaches Diomedes. The dragon bends down and Carp whispers something in his ear. The dragon says, “Oh my, she is serious.” Diomedes takes his leave and enters High Command.

Carp joins Tinkletoes and the others. “It feels so good to be out of there.” He shakes his head. “She’s usually so calm. Now...it’s such a relief not being the one her discontent is focused on.” Carp looks at Tinkletoes. “You had to keep talking about it didn’t you? Nathan, Nathan, Nathan. You just couldn't shut up."

Tinkletoes looks at High Command’s door. “How does she do it? How can a female have so much anger?”

Carp puts a hand to his face, he lays the opposite arm across his body to cradle the elbow of the raised one. “I don’t know, why would that be...maybe, it’s your fault.” The assassin-in-training looks at the self-proclaimed mercenary pointedly.

“It’s okay. TP fix.” The faerie announces.

Carp begins to walk away.

“You’re leaving?” Dobby asks.

“Yes. I have a headache.” Carp says to TP as he gestures to everyone's ‘NATHAN.' “I’ve seen how you fix things. Not a fan.”

TP blows a raspberry as Carp turns and walks away.

Tinkletoes reaches out to TP. “Never mind him. How do I get in there?”

“You don’t.” TP giggles. “Magic does.” The faerie gestures to Dobby to open the door to High Command a little.

The ginger tabby nods and runs over to the door. Crouching so his nose is level with the bottom of the door he sniffs. The feline scratches lightly. The door has not quite latched all the way as is common in older homes. Dobby raises his head and gently pushes on it. The door opens, just a small crack, not enough to make a sound but enough for...”Ouch.” Dobby cries out as a whisker is removed from the cat’s cheek without warning. The whisker is guided into High Command by a tiny ball of light, it flutters close to the wall lowering itself slowly and comes to rest on the back of Writer Lady’s monitor.

“Dobby kitty is that you?” Writer Lady calls. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I’m fine, my tail got stuck for a minute. I’m okay now.”

Writer Lady looks at the door. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Be careful sweetie.”

“I will.” Dobby says. He creeps away from the door and returns to the living room. He looks at TP. “That hurt.”

“The magic needs a home to keep it safe.”

“A necessary sacrifice for the good of the mission.” Tinkletoes says. He looks at Dobby. “Thanks man.”

“What did my sacrifice get us?”

“A looksy.” TP responds, looking at Dobby. “Let’s go to your room.”

The threesome enter Dobby’s room. Game controllers are sitting out where they had been left earlier. The large screen television is still on but instead of the game that is usually on pause waiting for them to resume play or reset a simple white page is showing with margins at the top along with various word processing icons. Words are being typed as they enter the room. As the group locates drinks, snacks, and makes themselves comfortable they watch Writer Lady work, in real time.

“We’re spying?” Dobby asks.

“That is the mission.” Tinkletoes says not taking his eyes off the screen.

Dobby crosses the room and tries to unplug the television. The feline can’t, no thumbs. He turns around, wrapping his tail around the cord,Dobby slowly inches the end of the plug from the wall. Satisfied he has protected his mother’s privacy he struts back to the couch only to find Tinkletoes still reading.

“You’re still reading?”

“Yep. The program is magic, magic doesn’t need the assistance of something as inferior as electricity.” Tinkletoes seems fairly relaxed as he reads.

Dobby watches as the letters N-a-t-h begin to appear.

The self-proclaimed mercenary stops chewing, his body begins to tense.

Banned From High Command

 

“Are you attempting to tell me what to do not only in my own home but in High Command, my writing room, my private space?”

“Umm...ye-ah?”

“What makes you think you can do that?” Writer Lady asks.

Tinkletoes shifts his weight and looks at the floor.

“What makes you think you can do that?” She asks more emphatically.

Nothing happens.

She lowers her head to catch his eye. “My eyes are up here.” She says pointing to her face. “What was your logic?”

Tinkletoes makes a face.

“Lo-gic.”

“Umm…”

Carp leans in and whispers to the self-proclaimed mercenary, “What were you thinking when you told her what to do.”

“Being the alpha male within this dwelling it is my prerogative to dictate what is done in said dwelling.”

“Let’s see...you’re not my father, not my husband, and you don’t pay the bills. You don’t even live here. And even if you were one of those things you still would have no say as to how I spend my time.” Writer Lady glares, calling up the ever threatening, stink eye. “I don’t care what kind of a male you think you are you have no influence in this dwelling. Especially in this room. You don’t even live here.”

“You already said that.” Tinkletoes points out.

“Alpha male? What do you think if you stand outside and take a whiz on the siding, the house and all who reside within are yours to command?”

“I’m the biggest guy here.”

“So?”

“It could be a...thing.”

Writer Lady turns her attention to a specialist. “Carp!”

The former romance novelist and assassin-in-training startles momentarily.

“In all of your years of writing, reading, living among romantic stories and studying historic mating rituals have you ever encountered a place or time where men marked their territory by relieving themselves on the outside of a dwelling?”

“I have not.” Carp answers.

“That’s because it isn’t a thing!” Writer Lady announces.

“Does that include third world countries?” Tinkletoes asks.

“It isn’t a thing!”

Tinkletoes looks at Writer Lady, “Could you just stop it, you know with the...writing...Nathan business?”

“There is NO NATHAN!”

Tinkletoes points to the name Nathan on the monitor display and raises an eyebrow.

“There is one. It is a flat one dimensional grouping of letters, it’s not like he’s a living breathing human being or anything.”

“She does have a point.” Carp agrees.

“True but you know what,” House’s voice echoes throughout the room, “there are currently over 300,000 males named Nathan residing within the U.S. alone. Some are actors, several others are athletes.”

“That’s a whole lotta pecs…” Carp says.

“Yes that is.” House agrees.

“Not helping.” Tinkletoes calls out.

Writer Lady sighs releasing some of her frustration. She looks at Tinkletoes. “How long have you known me?”

“A long time.”

“More than five years?” She asks.

“Ten probably.”

“How many Nathans have you seen in this house?”

“None?”

“At the door?”

“None.”

“There are no Nathans here.” Writer Lady says.

Tinkletoes points to the screen.

Writer Lady ignores the gesture.“If you don’t mind I would very much like to get back to my story.” She says gently.

He nods. “I get it. When you’re concentrating on a mission you don’t mess with details like code names. That crap will get you killed. I’m sure you’ll change his name when you get to it. Being a girl and all it takes time for you to see the error of your ways.” Tinkletoes shakes his head. “You are really screwing up this time.”

“That’s it. I’ve had enough of this.” Writer Lady raises her hand and points to the door. “Good-bye.”

“What?”

“From this moment on you have been banned from High Command.”

“I have security clear…”

“Get Out!”

Carp puts a hand to Tinkletoes’ shoulder. “Let’s give her some time to calm down. You know how women are.” As Tinkletoes heads for the door Carp turns to face Writer Lady, he mouths “You tried.”

The pair enter the living room to a group of stunned faces. Some of them sticky ones. No one utters a word for several moments.

“Dude...what was going on in there? The windows were rattling.” Ray asks.

“Writer Lady was writing a story about some guy and I told her she shouldn’t be doing those things, you know, thinking, about guys.”

“Writer Lady is working on a new story and our friend here is feeling a little insecure.” Carp pulls out his expression of reassurance. “It’s all a misunderstanding.”

“There are No Nathans!” Writer Lady’s voice is heard from High Command. “No men coming over, visiting, being nice to me. Nothing has changed!”

“Nathan...rawr even the name is hot.” House says. “Can I call you Nathan, Mur?”

“You can call me anything you want darling as long as I can hold you.” Mural Man responds.

“Any-whoo as soon as some people stop stirring the pot,” Carp explains, “everything will go back to normal. For the time being…”

“For the time being I have been banned from High Command.”

“Damn right you have!”

“Whoa. She sounds mad.” Ray says.

“Yep.” Tinkletoes says looking in the direction of the writing room.

Writer Lady spies him peeking and shuts the door.

The self-proclaimed mercenary lowers his head and closes his eyes for a moment.

“If she says there’s no Nathan there must not be any Nathan.” Ray says.

When Tinkletoes looks up again, the self-proclaimed mercenary sees Ray munching away on one his Creme de Menthe cupcakes. The insomniac/junk food junkie’s favorite surf tee had been replaced by a simple baby blue t-shirt with the word NATHAN printed on it in bold white print.

The self-proclaimed mercenary does a double take. Ray is still sitting on the couch sporting the word Nathan. Tinkletoes looks around the room. Dylan is wearing the same shirt along with Peter and Paige. Every face he sees is wearing some variation of the Nathan t on their bodies. “What the…” Tinkletoes hears a familiar sound and looks in the direction of the hall. TP the faerie is fluttering in the hallway just outside the door to High Command. He hears Writer Lady call out, “He lost his mind. There is no Nathan!”

The closer TP gets,the faerie’s NATHAN t shirt comes into the self-proclaimed mercenary’s sight.

“You too?” He asks shaking his head.

“TP help. Writer Lady says there is no Nathan. Now there are Nathans everywhere.”

Tinkletoes looks around the room again, silently counting Nathans. The self-proclaimed mercenary raises an eyebrow as one corner of his mouth begins to turn up in a smile.