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.”
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