He's A Funny Guy

Writer Lady looks in the hallway. “Oh.”

After a moment of silence she turns back to her white board. “I need more space for Faerie.” Erasing the remaining area allotted for the Nana problem, she delegates a tiny corner of the area for Nana and returns to her brainstorming. “This needs color coding.”

Nana Dupree looks at the man standing in front of her. Tall and on the muscular side, the man from the Bible study fiasco has returned to the scene of the crime. His dark blue jeans and freshly laundered button shirt having been replaced with a khaki t shirt and an odd mix of cammos. It reminds her of an overzealous toddler who decides he wants to be in every branch of the military at the same time for career day at preschool. She supposes it could be worse at least his boots were matching.

“May I help you?” she asks.

“I kinda wanted to have a word with ya and the kid at the front desk said I could find you in here. I was here you know...earlier.”

“I may be getting up in years but I’m not that old. I remember you.”

“I wanted to come and apologize. I did the thing.” He says.

“The thing?”

“I did the thing, you know with the papers. I kinda brought the handouts with me and placed them over the ones that were given out earlier.” He mutters. “...For fun.”

Tony Johnson looks up and sees Nana talking to Tinkletoes. She steps forward stopping next to the octogenarian. “What?” She asks.

Tinkletoes looks at Nana. “I thought it might make things more interesting for the residents, wake them up a bit. Sometimes I think of those things. I’m kind of a fun guy...at times.” The self-proclaimed mercenary coughs.

Nana looks at Tinkletoes, as he stands in front of her wearing the strange mix of green and brown fatigues, turns to Tony Johnson and then back to Tinkletoes. “You? With that precise military haircut, the sharp angles, and impeccably polished combat boots? No, you do things by the rule book.” Nana shakes her head. “I don’t believe you!”

Tinkletoes lowers his head for a beat or two then he raises it. “You’re right ma’am. I do like to follow the rules and I like the precise guidelines that are found in the military, unfortunately the military has never established proper guidelines for combat with zombies or space aliens not to mention ninja- zombies.” He shifts slightly. “I do follow the rules, diligently, but I’ve had to write some of my own. They can be a little different.”

Nana looks at Tony Johnson, “Hmm.”

Tinkletoes waits until he has both ladies' attention and says, “I know it’s difficult to believe but let me assure you I am a real funny guy.”

TP pops in behind Nana and Tony. The faerie proceeds to make funny faces at the self-proclaimed mercenary indicating he should smile. Tinkletoes attempts one that is stiff and slightly crooked.

“Is that supposed to help?” Tony asks. “Now you just look like a serial killer.”

Tinkletoes stops smiling.

“That’s better.”

“I am not buying whatever it is you’re selling young man but no one else has stepped forward. If you’re determined to take responsibility for the this morning’s antics…”

“I am.”

“Okay.” Nana says. “What are you going to do to make amends Mr. I’m A Funny Guy.”

An “Uh-Oh” is heard as TP disappears.

When Tinkletoes returns, Writer Lady has assembled everyone she can find into High Command. She is in full presentation mode.

“If Faerie waits until Christmas before she makes her presence known we can celebrate in groups of three. One group does rounds from 8 am to 8 pm the other from 8 pm to 8 am the following day.”

Carp raises a hand. “What about Christmas Eve?”

“You’re right. We’ll have to monitor things for two days in a row. Now for New Year’s…”

The self-proclaimed mercenary raises a hand stopping at shoulder height. “Why are you only focusing on holidays? Look at what happened today. It was just an average Sunday.”

“TP says Faerie creatures are curious and nothing is more interesting to them than our holidays. People and things we consider to be of great value are also extremely interesting. Isn’t that what a good leader does anticipate the enemy so to speak?” Writer Lady asks looking at Tinkletoes.

The self-proclaimed mercenary stands at the back of the room and studies Writer Lady’s work. “You’re trying to protect everyone who doesn’t know Faerie exists from Faerie right?”

“Yes.”

“Faerie is a magical place. There’s no telling the range or strength of her powers once they travel beyond her dimension, am I right?” He asks.

“That is correct.”

“Considering we have so many unknown variables doesn’t it make more sense to wait and see what she does next?” Tinkletoes indicates the multitude of incidents and possible countermeasures Writer Lady has listed. “There is no way we can collect all this stuff and store it on this property without raising eyebrows."

“He’s right.” Carp agrees. “The minute you say you are expecting magic from another world to invade the neighborhood…”

“You’re toast.” Ray finishes.

“The best thing we can do is relax, try not to panic, and wait.” Tinkletoes says.

“Did you see the diagrams? I have really good diagrams.”

The self-proclaimed mercenary steps forward and repeats, “Relax, try not to panic, and wait.”

Writer Lady looks at the white board. She nods. “Okay, since we seem to be at a good place with the Faerie issue let’s talk about how to resolve the fiasco at the assisted living facility.”

“All taken care of.” Tinkletoes says. He looks at the rest of the group. “Dismissed.”

“Not dismissed. What happened?”

Tinkletoes waits for the room to empty out and turns to Writer Lady. “I went back and explained to Mrs. Dupree that it was a joke that wasn’t as funny as I’d hoped it would be.”

“You got her to believe that a racy story mixed in with Bible quotes was you pulling a prank?”

“I’m a funny guy.”

“You are not a funny guy. You’re a guy who does things that can be so stupid they end up being funny. But you are not funny.”

“Okay fine.” Tinkletoes says, “She didn’t buy it. When I agreed to spend the next month of Sundays helping keep young uns corralled so adult children can visit with their parents, she came around.”

Writer Lady raised her brow, “They are going to leave you alone with children?"

"I'm taking Dobby Cat with me and I do okay with these guys.” He countered pointing in the direction of Peter, Paige, and Dylan who were currently playing in the living room. “’Sides they were desperate.”

“Desperate I could see.” Writer Lady responds as she erases the problems of the day from her white board. Why did you go...and say you did it.”

“We needed to get that resolved without revealing the whole Faerie thing and you seemed to have bigger problems.” He looks out of the room in the general direction of the kitchen. “Is there coffee?”

“I’ll make some.” She says as she heads in the direction of the kitchen. Writer Lady turns around. “Tinkletoes? Thanks, thanks for being there when I needed help.”

The self-proclaimed mercenary shrugs off her gratitude. “Are there any cupcakes?”

“No, I appear to have a little free time. I kind of feel like baking some.”

Writer Lady exits High Command as she turns off the light with a self-proclaimed mercenary not far behind her.

She's Not Done Talking

 

You’re touching me.” Tinkletoes says. “On purpose.”

“I am.”

“Just makin’ sure you know. What do ya want?”

“To discuss your behavior.” Writer Lady responds.

“Yeah what about it?”

“You weren’t very nice to House.”

“She wasn’t nice to me first.”

“You’re an adult.” Writer Lady says.

“She’s not?”

Writer Lady contemplates her answer. “If she was human she would be. But she isn’t.”

“So anything that is not human doesn’t have to be nice?” Tinkletoes asks.

“No.”

“So what are you saying?”

“You shouldn’t have been mean to her when she was going through something so difficult.”

Tinkletoes looks at Writer Lady with an irritated expression.

“Men don’t understand how devastating aging can be for a woman.” Writer Lady says.

“Mural Man did okay. He’s a man, sort of. And he was supportive.” The self-proclaimed mercenary counters.

“Yes he was.” Writer Lady agrees. “Why weren’t you?”

Tinkletoes holds up his left hand and counts off the reasons as he responds. “I ain’t her boyfriend. She’s mean. She had it coming.”

“Had it coming?”

“Yeah. For bein’ so mean.”

Writer Lady shakes her head. “There are children here. Did you ever stop to think you were being a bad example to them?”

“The kids aren’t here right now. Aunt Purdy took them out.”

“The other kids.”

“Other kids?” Tinkletoes asks.

“Spots and Smudge.” Realizing she is reaching a bit, Writer Lady turns her attention away from Tinkletoes’ face and looks at the floor, the wall, the shower curtain, anything else.

“They aren’t kids.”

“If they were human they would be kids. Impressionable ones.”

“You’re really pushing the ‘if they were human’ thing.”

“Okay I might be reaching with that one.”

“Ya think?”

“We all do our best to get along with House and TP when he gets mischievous. You don’t. Why is that?” Writer Lady turns away from Tinkletoes and studies the wall House and Mural Man had disappeared into minutes ago. She looks at Tinkletoes, “You get along with TP most of the time, Daemon, Diomedes, Furnatche, even Mural Man but not House.”

“She’s mean, she hides my stuff, and goes out of her way to be mean or make my life difficult. TP is just as obnoxious to everyone here as he is to me. It’s different. If you want her to be treated the same she has to call you, Carp, Ray, Diomedes and the kids stupid and hide their stuff too. Then I’ll be nicer.”

Writer Lady releases a sigh of frustration. House is never going to change her ways.

“You seem awfully preoccupied with my behavior.” He looks into Writer Lady’s eyes. “Maybe the question shouldn’t be why can’t I be nicer to House maybe it should be why do you care so much how I behave?” He asks leaning in close.

“You think I care how you behave?” A guilty expression crosses Writer Lady’s face. “You’ve caught me.” She crooks a finger and gestures to the self-proclaimed mercenary to come in even closer. He complies. “I have to confess it has become important to me how you behave. You do spend a lot of time here.”

Tinkletoes grins.

“Do you know why it’s important? It’s important because you keep screwing things up!” Writer Lady turns and leaves the room.

“I keep screwing things up?” He repeats, catching up with her in High Command just as the words “This entire messed up day has been your fault,” crosses her lips.

Tinkletoes begins to argue until he notices Writer Lady’s current work in progress is still sitting open on her desktop. Open and waiting to be finished or in his case waiting to be read. The self-proclaimed mercenary reads as Writer Lady stands on the other side of the room, saying angry things and pointing a lot. No one is paying much attention at this point. Tinkletoes coughs clearing his throat. “I didn’t screw up. You did.”

Writer Lady looks at Tinkletoes. “How can this be my fault? I haven’t left the house today.”

The self-proclaimed mercenary points to the story displayed on Writer Lady’s monitor. “This is what the residents were reading, remember? You are writing the story, you got the roof replaced. If today’s events are anyone’s fault they’re yours.”

“I already took ownership of the roof problem and House is doing okay again.” Writer Lady sighs. “I guess it would be best to drop it.”

Tinkletoes grins.

“For now at least.”

“TP said Faerie replaced the words on the pages the residents were reading from. That she’s bored. I acknowledge that we do have some problems.” Writer Lady picks up her eraser and begins cleaning off her white board. “Okay. We have two problems. One: How to track what Faerie is doing in her boredom and how to manage damage control. Two: How to apologize to Nana and her friend without sounding like complete lunatics. Although I still don’t see how the incident at the assisted living facility is my fault.” Writer Lady says. As she begins diagramming all of the variables they would need to consider when it comes to Faerie and what she might do keep things manageable. One side of the board fills up quickly and starts leaking on to the other side.

“If you hadn’t been writing that story about that Lord Nathan guy standing on the cliffs in the rain brooding, the female ghost and their...visits. This never would have happened. You need to learn that Nathans are nothing but trouble.”

Writer Lady turns around and looks at Tinkletoes with nothing but pure anger. ‘You’re back to that again?!” She turns around and begins writing on the white board furiously. “Do you know why there is a story about brooding Lord Nathan and his hot ghostly lover? You! You kept insisting there was a Nathan somewhere in my life. You insisted on acting like an ass when I told you you were completely wrong. I got tired of the crap. You wanted a Nathan so I created a Nathan. A hot brooding, rich sexy one! As far I can tell the only problem with Nathan is you don’t know how to let it go. Do you see anyone named Nathan in this room? No there isn’t one. There are no Nathans here!”

Writer Lady turns around. “It’s that simple!” She says to no one in particular.

Tinkletoes is gone.

Every Dog Has His Day. Even War Dogs, Unless...

Dedicated to everyone who's found true love.

 

 Writer Lady opens her mouth to protest. The self-proclaimed mercenary raises a hand and places it over her mouth blocking anything that tries to come out. She steps back quickly, opening and closing her mouth, sticking her tongue out in an effort to exorcise any cooties that might currently be living on or near her mouth.

Tinkletoes doesn’t notice, he’s fixed his attention on the enemy. The self-proclaimed mercenary has already continued his counteroffensive when he exits the shower area. “So...what are you going to do now that everyone knows the truth?” he asks as he paces the remaining open area of Writer Lady’s postage stamp sized bathroom. “You can’t exactly cover something like this up. It’s not like there’s, you know, hair color.”

House’s face is pale in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, her eyes dark and lifeless without their usual bright glimmer. “I’m paper. I would probably disintegrate.”

“That would be a real b*…”

Something slaps Tinkletoes across the back of the head.

“That would suck.” He says altering his language. “You, no longer existing?”

“Technically, she’s a house.” Writer Lady points out, stepping forward. “Her mural is made up of magic. TP’s magic. We’ll ask TP to change her hair color back.”

TP pops into the bathroom, flying close to Writer Lady the faerie shakes his head. “No, no, no…” He sings. The faerie spins around, the colorful clothing he usually wears is replaced with the ceremonial uniform of the Kingdoms of Faerie complete with emerald green frocked coat and cocked hat. TP snaps his fingers and a scroll appears. Unrolling the scroll the faerie begins reading. “All magical renderings of any real object must maintain some resemblance to their true form. It may be in the form of shape, size, or physical make-up. If the magical rendering does not wish to keep the same shape, size, or physical make-up he or she may simply choose to maintain the same basic color scheme of their true exterior. If the magical rendering chooses not to comply, this contract becomes null and void and will result in immediate termination of the magic he or she is enjoying the use of.”

“If she changes her hair color...” Writer Lady begins.

“She’ll die.” Tinkletoes points out.

Writer Lady looks at TP. The faerie puts the scroll in his left breast pocket. Retrieving a bugle from his right breast pocket, he puts the mouthpiece to his lips and begins to play “Taps.”

As the first few notes emerge Tinkletoes places his hand over the end of the bugle. “Stop. That song is for military personnel only.”

The overflowing room has grown quiet. Ray, Carp, Dobby Cat, Spots and Smudge are all looking at House’s mural holding a hand over their hearts.

“She’s not dead.” Writer Lady says. “Do you mind?”

“It would be nice.” Tinkletoes says.

“Excuse me?”

“You know.” He leans in and whispers. “If she wasn’t here, bugging us.”

Writer Lady leans in from her side. “House is here. She will always be here. She’s my house.”

“I know. Just not in here. On the walls. Talkin’ and bein’ obnoxious.” Tinkletoes lowers his head and mutters. “Hidin’ my stuff.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I know that House can be…” Writer Lady looks at House’s mural to verify she is otherwise occupied, “...difficult. I don’t understand why you two can’t find a way to coexist. You were a soldier. Isn’t being a member of the military about being part of a unit? Of working together?”

“Yeah but she won’t do what I tell her. She’s kinda mean, mostly to me.”

“She’s mean to you? That’s what this boils down to?”

Tinkletoes looks at Writer Lady. “She has made herself the enemy. The enemy cannot win. There is only one alpha leader on this base. I will not relinquish command.”

Writer Lady rolls her eyes. She looks at House then at Tinkletoes, realizing everyone there is standing in the bathroom of a house that she works to pay for...“Did it ever occur to you that this house has an owner? It’s me! Me! I am the one paying the mortgage. Not you, not House. ME! If anyone here is the alpha commander of this base I am!” She looks at Tinkletoes squarely. “You big dork!” Writer Lady yells before leaving the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Everyone looks at Tinkletoes.

“Don’t look at me. I don’t know what her problem is.”

Not knowing how to process her frustrations between the aggressive visitors from earlier in the day and the current drama, Writer Lady does the only thing she can think of, she cleans something. Okay, the refrigerator. It doesn’t take long, Ray has nearly eaten it clean already. Taking a soapy dish cloth in hand, she wipes down the inside and mutters. A lot. “My goodness. What is that dipshit thinking? Where the hell did he even get those ideas? What the…”

“I’m fairly sure you don’t want to finish that sentence.” A familiar voice says.

Writer Lady looks at the wall next to the refrigerator and finds herself looking into a pair of deep blue eyes. They belong to a handsome face with a disarmingly friendly smile. “Mural Man. How are you doing today?”

“Happy as ever. Although not as energetic as usual.”

“Under the weather?” Writer Lady asks without thought as to the fact she is addressing a mural.

“No, just woke up feeling a little flat.” He said smiling.

Laughter bubbles forth from Writer Lady’s diaphragm. “That’s such an old joke.” She says laughing.

“But a good one.” He counters. “Old jokes are old because everyone has heard them which means they are loved.”

“That is one of the best ways to explain an old joke that I have ever heard.”

“I like it. Have you seen House? She disappeared for her a.m. check and never returned. I can’t seem to find her.”

Not knowing what to say, Writer Lady takes a deep breath and tells the truth. “She’s still in the bathroom. Morning check over has not gone well.”

“Is it another wrinkled corner?” Mural Man asks. “It’s probably the same one she found a few weeks ago. I’ll go help her smooth things out.”

Writer Lady looks at Mural Man. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. It’s my fault.”

“Oh?”

“While you were away on vacation I had her roof repaired.”

“Thicker hair. She should be ecstatic.”

“It wasn’t that kind of repair. The old shingles were removed and replaced with new ones of a different color.”

“New hair color. That was probably a bit of a shock. What color did you go with?”

“Gray.”

“Oh. That would not have gone over well. A woman like House does not like to be reminded of her age.”

Writer Lady’s mouth falls open. “You know?”

“Of course.” He grins. “A house’s walls, they talk. The ones that have been standing a while have the most interesting things to say. We never run out of things to talk about. How could I not know? I think I’ll go have a talk with TP, after that I’ll go see my girl. If you’ll excuse me.”

“You’re not angry with me?” Writer Lady asks.

“There’s no reason to be. As long as I can be with my girl I’m the happiest mural who ever lived.” Mural Man alters his direction.

“Mural Man?”

Mural Man returns his attention to Writer Lady.

“Thank you. I’d really like to be there when you tell House she’s beautiful and you still love her.”

“I’ll send a signal your way.” He promises before heading into the darkness of the bonus room and a meeting with TP.

Not much time passes before Writer Lady’s refrigerator light flashes on and off. Backing out of the appliance and closing the door, she tosses her dish rag into the kitchen sink before returning to the bathroom. As she enters she hears Tinkletoes saying, “The old gray mare ain’t what she used to be. That dripping sink proves it. I wonder if Mural Man is going to want to keep sharing his life with someone who’s lookin’ so, old.”

“Mur…” House says wistfully.

“There you are.” Mural Man says as he appears on the bathroom wall. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Writer Lady smiles as she looks at the friendly face she had seen earlier. Something about the mural is different. His hair has changed. Mural Man’s hair is now the same color as House’s.

“Writer Lady mentioned what happened. I didn’t want you to feel alone so I had a talk with TP. He altered his magic and made some changes. I hope it’s okay.”

“Oh Mur. It’s perfect.” House coos.

Tinkletoes rolls his eyes and gags a little.

Mural Man continues. “TP and I had a talk and we came up with something we think is going to make you feel even better. TP.”

The faerie waves his arm in front of him in a half circle motion, House’s hair changes color from gray to a brighter shimmering silver.

“Does that?” Writer Lady asks.

“TP took a tiny bit of the glimmer which lives in House’s eyes and used it to brighten the color of her hair. The base color still matches the gray of the roof honoring the magical contract that they originally forged. I asked a few questions about the contract and made a couple of suggestions. TP found this alteration agreeable.”

“It’s wonderful!” House exclaims.

Looking at each other adoringly, the murals slowly disappear out of sight.

“I love a happy ending!” Carp says.

Water spurts out of the bathroom faucet soaking Tinkletoes who mutters, “Happy ending for who?” and reaches for the door.

Writer Lady places a hand to the self-proclaimed mercenary’s chest stopping him in his tracks. “We’re not done here.”