Shots Were Fired

Tinkletoes, TP and Dobby sneak in the back door and hide in the utility closet.

There is knocking at the door.

Writer Lady opens it to find the police. “Yes.”

“Hello Ma'am. My name is Officer Silverfish and this is Officer Smelt. We have had some complaints this evening about shots being fired from this address.”

“Really?” Writer Lady asks. “That's odd.”

“Do you live here?” Officer Smelt asks.

“Yes I do.”

“Is there anyone else living here at this residence?” Officer Silverfish asks.

“No it's just me. Me and my cat.”

“Husband? Children?” Officer Smelt asks.

“No just me and my cat.”

“Do you have some identification?” Officer Smelt asks.

“Yes. I'll go get my wallet. Wait right here.” Writer Lady says leaving the room. She returns with her wallet and shows them her driver's license. Officer Silverfish checks it.

“Is your firearm licensed? Do you have your gun card with you?” Officer Smelt asks.

“I don't have any firearms.”

“All due respect ma'am shots were fired tonight from this address.”

“I am telling you with certainty. It was not me.”

“Is that so?” Officer Smelt asks challenging Writer Lady's statement. He takes out his notepad.

“For the last several months, let me rephrase that. The entire time you have been living in this house your neighbors have noticed unusual goings on.”

“Do you have examples?” Writer Lady asks.

“Well the shots being fired.”

“And?”

“Strange people have been seen “slinking” around in the shadows.”

“Do you have a description?”

“Male, approx 6' 2” eyes of blue? Usually dressed in camo, carries ammo bag, sometimes leaves with pastry boxes. Comes over and leaves at all hours of the day and night. Sometimes even on Sunday.” Officer Smelt announces with condescension.

Officer Silverfish leans towards his fellow officer and says, “That's Tinkletoes.”

“Tink? Nobody told me he was home.” Officer Smelt exclaims.

“I thought you knew. He's been back for over a year now.”

“I can't believe he made it back and hasn't called me yet. Have the gaming nights started up again yet? Do you know?”

“Oh yeah. His first week back. You know Tink. He couldn't wait to get that started again. We all tried to get together online when he was at base camp but the Internet connections were always overloaded. According to Tinkletoes the officers were hogging it.”

“No...” Officer Smelt exclaims.

“You'll never guess with what? Farmville.” Officer Silverfish says sharing his intel.

“Wow. You think smart people like that would at least be playing Grand Theft Auto or World of Warcraft.” Officer Smelts says.

“Maybe learn something.” Officer Silverfish offers.

“I'm guessing you two didn't enlist?” Writer Lady asked.

“No. I couldn't pass the physical.” Officer Silverfish answers. “I'm a little long in the tooth.”

“At least you passed the written.” Officer Smelts says.

“I'm sure you just missed by the skin of your teeth. You catch on really quick.” Officer Silverfish says reassuring the younger officer.

“No actually.” Officer Smelts says blushing a little.

“Pssst. Psssst!” Writer Lady turns to see Tinkletoes, TP and Dobby in the doorway of the darkened add on room. Tinkletoes is holding up a glow-in-the-dark sign.

GET THEM OUT OF HERE

“If you two will excuse me for a minute. I hear Dobby crying. He gets scared when strange people are here.”

The officers continue talking oblivious to Writer Lady's presence.

Writer Lady tiptoes into the add on room, “It's okay kitty. Don't be scared.” She continues into the darkness until she is out of the officers' sight.

“What do you mean get rid of them? They're your friends.” Writer Lady says getting into Tinkletoes' space.

“No. That's Smelts. Nobody likes Smelts.”

“What about the other one?” Writer Lady asks.

“Silverfish?”

Writer Lady waits for an answer.

“He's okay but he knows I don't like Smelts.” 
Writer Lady is still waiting. 
 “It's a guy thing, okay?”

Unimpressed with Tinkletoes' explanation Writer Lady evaluates her situation. “Fine!” Turning on her heel she returns to the living room.

“You know I bet they're a couple.” Officer Silverfish whispers to Officer Smelts just as Writer Lady returns.

“It sounds like you all have a lot of catching up to do. I won't keep you.”

“Of course. Anything for Tinks' girl.” Officer Smelts gushes, turning to leave.

“Sorry to bother you ma'am. I'll make sure the neighbors know they have nothing to worry about. Tinkletoes does things a little bit different we all understand.” Office Silverfish says following Smelts out the front door. “Don't worry we'll be discreet.”

Writer Lady's neighbors had gathered along the outer perimeter of her yard waiting to see the result of their careful record keeping.

“It's Okay Folks! It's just Tinkletoes! This is his girl!” Officer Smelts announces after retrieving a bullhorn from the trunk of his police cruiser.

The crowd nods, uttering words of understanding, relief and sympathy depending on how they felt about him. Within minutes everyone was gone. Writer Lady plops down on to her couch with a tired sigh and closes both eyes.

“Are they gone?” Tinkletoes asks standing over her.

“You're the soldier, you tell me.” She responds without opening her eyes.

Taking a quick look through the windows, “Yes. You cleared them out quick. That was a great idea too. Telling them I'm your boyfriend.”

Jumping up off the couch, “You! Are NOT my boyfriend!” Writer Lady says poking him in the chest with her finger.

Tinkletoes pales a little, surprised at the tone of her outburst. “Everyone seems to think so. I'm here all the time.”

“You come over and play video games with the cat. Take my baked goods under false pretenses. You don't talk to me unless you have to. Boyfriends don't do that.” Writer Lady says stepping back.

“You're right. I never should have done those things.” Tinkletoes says quietly. 

Writer Lady looks at him with her mouth gaping.

TP flies over to Tinkletoes and starts whispering with urgency. Tinkletoes nods a lot. “I'm sorry you have been labeled my um...girlfriend. If it's alright with you I won't say anything for a couple of days. On the next gaming night I'll tell everyone about the misunderstanding.”

Writer Lady nods her agreement.

Dobby sits in the middle of the living room and clears his throat loudly.

Action Hero Blues

Dobby Cat morphs, transforms and changes in front of Writer Lady's and Tinkletoes' eyes. TP's magic is something amazing. Dobby goes from a typical ginger tabby to a powerfully built Action Hero. He struts past the back of the Big Writing Chair to the center of High Command and strikes a masculine pose for Writer Lady. He appears robust and virile to all who gaze upon him.

“Well that was easy.” Tinkletoes says, patting Dobby on the back. “You have great genes kitty. Good job.”

Dobby lets out a breath and...ping! The snap on his leather pants flies off and goes right through the window. The pants are relieved of their burden and Dobby's belly spills out over the top of the leather. Our hero pulls up his pants and retreats to the bathroom. He might be blushing but he is orange so it's hard to tell.

Writer Lady tries to stifle her laughter. “I told you he was in no shape for this.”

“It's fine. We just have to modify the costume. Dobby is stockier than anticipated.” Tinkletoes says defending his choice.

“He's out of shape.” Writer Lady counters.

“He's husky.”

“He's fat.” Writer Lady says finishing the argument.

“This is just a set back. We'll fix it.” Tinkletoes says looking at TP.
The faerie snaps his fingers and a tiny tool box appears in his hand. With the second snap the faerie is wearing a t-shirt that says:

TP. Professional Faerie At Work. I've Got Your Back Side.

TP makes his way in to the bathroom.

Writer Lady returns to her scribbling as she and Tinkletoes wait to see the solution TP comes up with. Tinkletoes keeps himself busy by examining the hole in the window. He raises the blind. He sticks his finger through the hole.

“It's a perfect hole. It goes through both the window and the screen. Do you have any idea how much pressure it takes to do that without shattering the entire window?” He asks.

“Probably something similar to a bullet being fired by a gun.” Writer Lady says without looking up from her pad of paper. “But I'm just a girl. What do I know.”

TP enters High Command flying in reverse. He is waving his hands as if aiding a large truck as it reverses.

Dobby enters the room slowly with his head down still embarrassed.

Tinkletoes smiles with encouragement. TP flies up to Tinkletoes' ear to give him an update. Tinkletoes nods a lot.

Writer Lady takes a minute to sneak a peek at their repair work. The snap had been reattached with a piece of wire. They had compensated for the cat's girth using a rubber band. The old 'I'm not ready for maternity clothes yet. These jeans still fit' repair. Interesting. Writer Lady scratches Dobby's ear affectionately and returns to her seat.

“Okay Dobby. I have a camera. So what we're gonna do now is take some action footage. It will get you exposure a lot more quickly than just a head shot.” Tinkletoes says. “I think we'll start in the bedroom. TP is going to be a thug. He will threaten you with a gun. Quick as lightning, I want you to jump up, run across the bed and chase him out of the room jumping off the bed and following him out of the room close behind. I'm going to lay on the floor. When you jump off the bed, jump over me and the camera. It'll be a great shot.”

Writer Lady decides to stay in High Command. Listening can be just as fun as watching. She hears Tinkletoes say, “Okay. On action...one, two and ac-tion!” There is rustling then a loud Ping!, a scream from Tinkletoes. “Okay.” Tinkletoes whispers. “cut...”

Writer Lady goes into the bedroom to see what happened. Tinkletoes is laying on the floor. There is a distinct round mark on his forehead. A bright red one.

“Rubber band snapped huh?” Writer Lady asks.

Tinkletoes stays where he is. Waiting for the humiliation to be over.

Writer Lady looks around for the rubber band's remains. She spots them on the fly of the mercenary's camos. “You...um...weren't planning on having kids some day were you?” she asks.

“Ice. Please?” Tinkletoes asks.

“Stay here.” Writer Lady says, gentling her tone. By the time she returns with two ice packs, Tinkletoes is sitting up with his back against the wall. She hands him one and steps over his legs to put the other ice pack against his forehead.

“Thanks.” He grumbles.

“I was kind of mean earlier, with the jokes. I owe you one.”

TP comes into the bedroom and whispers to Tinkletoes. Tinkletoes nods. “Okay.”
 The faerie leaves the room.

“TP fixed the problem. He put Dobby in larger pants. Dobby doesn't have enough...butt. TP said he fixed that though.” Tinkletoes announces. “Okay come on in guys.”

Dobby comes back into the bedroom. He looks um...well rounded. Our furry action hero has two perfectly round buttocks pushing against the leather pants.

“Oh my goodness...” Writer Lady says covering her mouth. She averts her eyes. “I'm just going to go do some scribbling,” She says pointing to High Command.

Tinkletoes looks at the footage taken earlier. “Okay guys what I did earlier looks good. I think we'll try something with the whip now. Let's go out into the front yard. It's dark out. No one will see.” Our hero and his agents go out to the front yard to take more footage. “Okay Dobby. I need you to pull the whip from your belt. Release the tail, let it snap and bring it down to the ground. This is really cool looking. The snapping sound is a terrific effect. Same direction as before. One...two...AC-TION.”

Dobby reaches down, lifting the rolled up whip from his belt, releases the coiled leather raising his paw high. The tail of the whip flourishes back dramatically, snapping the back of the ginger tabby's pants. The POP is a sound like none other heard in Writer Lady's neighborhood---EVER.

Lights start to turn on all over the neighborhood.

“Down Now.” Tinkletoes says. The three slink around to the back yard.

Dobby Cat Apostos--Action Hero?

    Dedicated to Xavier (Booger) White (9) who asked if Dobby could ever be an Action Hero.

 Writer Lady sits at her computer merrily typing away. Dobby enters the room slowly. He is uneasy but this is important. It's time they talked.

“Mom?”

“Oh Dobby. There you are. Look. See I'm writing already! No wasting time on FB.  No skulking around on Twitter.” Writer Lady turns to look down at the ginger tabby and smiles proudly.

“That's great Mom.”

“Do you remember last week?”

“Yeah.”

“You spent three nights hanging out on the couch?”

“I do remember. It was so cold and you snuggled. On Purpose!”

“You laid around watching TV, practicing other writing, reading.” Dobby says. “When you could have been online making me famous.”

“Dobby kitty, I told you these things take time. You have to earn that kind of admiration. You have to practice and work for it. You have to work very hard.” Writer Lady answers.

“But I have the Gem of the Con's endorsement.”

“Endorsements aren't enough.”

“I disagree.” Dobby says.

“It isn't the destination. It's the journey that's important.” Writer Lady says quoting somebody.

“I know. I also know how you love your affirmations. I love people. I need my people and they need me. What you do just isn't cutting it Mom.”

“Do you think you can do better?” Writer Lady asks.

“Yeah I do.”

Writer Lady stops typing and looks down at Dobby stunned.

“I got some help. Fresh eyes. They are convinced I can be a really big deal before the end of the month.”

“You got new people?” Writer Lady asks.

“Yeah Mom I did.” Dobby says looking down in embarrassment.

Writer Lady pauses a moment. “Okay, that's great. It gives me more time to write. I love that.”

“Actually Mom that's what I wanted to talk to you about.” Dobby says. “We need your workspace to make me famous.”

Writer Lady takes in the new information. “So let me see if I'm understanding what you have to say. You not only got new people but now you want to kick me out of my space?”

“Thanks Dobby's Mom. We knew you'd understand.” Tinkletoes says entering High Command. TP follows flying in behind Tinkletoes' left shoulder.

“Seriously? These two are better equipped at making you a Very Important Feline?”

“Yeah.”

Tinkletoes feeling very proud of himself, “See it's like this. TP knows how to spread the word all over about Dobby. I know how to make him look even better than he already does. You know classy.”

Writer Lady looks at Tinkletoes in his cammo everything, ammunitions belts complete with bullets and knives hanging off of them, “You can make Dobby look 'classy'?” She asks.

“Don't worry my dear sweet Writer Lady I will not let the barbarian ruin all that we have worked for.” TP reassures.

“Barbarian? Who you calling a barbarian? Barbarians are uncivilized and dirty. They don't even wear cammo. I'm not a barbarian.” Tinkletoes argues.

“You aren't exactly invited to tea with the Queen either now are you?” TP asks.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Tinkletoes says leaning in close to the faerie. His face is red.

“You don't know?” TP asks.

“Ladies, please.” Writer Lady says as Dobby rolls his eyes. “Let's all be friends here.” Writer Lady closes all of her tabs and gets up out of the Big Writing Chair, quickly grabbing her pad and pen. Taking a seat on the blanket chest she settles in for the fun ahead. “Okay. I'm out of the way. Take my seat and make my Dobby Cat a star.” She sits back and starts scribbling.

Tinkletoes sits down in the 'Not so big to him' Writing Chair, making adjustments and getting settled in. TP lands on top of the desk and finds a seat on the electric stapler. The faerie notices he can't see the computer screen and finds a new seat on the edge of Writer Lady's abandoned mug.

   Tinkletoes begins the meeting of the minds.  “Okay Dobby. The way to get lots of attention really fast is to be an action hero. That's the way we need to market you. You will be the action hero of house cats.” 

Writer Lady hears this and her head pops up. Noticing the panicked look on her face TP puts a finger to his lips and shakes his head. The faerie knows Dobby as an action hero just isn't going to happen.

“An action hero. The females love a good action hero. I like it.” Dobby says.

“I knew you would kitty.” Tinkletoes replies. “Since I'm in good shape and Carp is getting in really good shape too, if we market you as an action hero we'll hang out with you. You will have your own posse right from the beginning.”

“Posse?” TP asks.

“What?” Tinkletoes asks.

“It's an “entourage” now,” TP says.

“But posse is so much more dangerous sounding.” Tinkletoes argues.

“Which is probably why they changed it.” Writer Lady says from her spot across the room.

Three heads turn and glare at Writer Lady, she looks down at the pad and concentrates on her scribbling. “Just say-in'” she mutters under her breath.

“First you need a costume. I was thinking of something like this."  A picture appears on the monitor of a muscle bound hero in black leather pants and heavy black boots. No shirt. "In sub-zero weather you'll wear a black leather duster. A shiny one.”

“I like that idea.” Dobby says. “Is there a hat? I like hats.”

“I was thinking you could wear hats when you are disguising yourself. So you won't be so easy to spot.”

“No one is going to notice a bright orange cat stuffed into black leather pants.” Writer Lady says harassing them. Dirtier looks get sent her way.

“The weapon?” Dobby asks.

“Since I'm good with guns and explosives and Carp's specialty is everything bow and arrow. I think you should have a whip.” Tinkletoes suggests.

“A whip? That's all?” Dobby asks.

“We could add some knife throwing. A lot of action heroes can throw a big knife fairly well too.” Tinkletoes offers.

Dobby reaches up to stroke his chin giving this some thought. “Okay I like it.”

“TP would you mind?” Tinkletoes asks.

“If you would please stand over here.” TP says gesturing to the open area to the right side of the Writing Chair in close range with TP's perch on the mug. The faerie raises both hands and moves his fingers up and down like a musician practicing his scales. The air around Dobby's feet swirls and as it slowly moves up his body the costume appears.

Cruisin'

*Inspired by an idea from Xavier "Booger" White (9).

 The door to the darkened bonus room opens and Writer Lady enters turning on the light. “Dobby kitty! Mommy's home!” As her eyes adjust she sees Dobby sitting on the entry's step, tail thumping.

“You're late!”

“Oh...” Writer Lady says raising her hand to her chest. “Dobby, you scared me.” She looks down at her phone. “I'm not that late. It's not even 5:30.”

“Saturday night!” Dobby says sarcastically.

“You are being redundant. Cats + sarcasm = repetitive. One or the other not both. Since you're already a cat guess what that means.”

“Where were you this time?” Dobby demands.

“The farm.”

“What took you so long? You left the farm twenty minutes ago. It only takes 14.5 minutes to get here. What were you doing for those other 5.5 minutes?” Dobby asks.

“First of all how did you know that? TP hid in my coat pocket again didn't he? Second, 5.5 minutes? You want me to account for 5.5 minutes?” Writer Lady asks insulted by this invasion of her privacy.

Dobby silently glares.

“I was driving around the... (she mutters)”

“I'm sorry, not even my super feline hearing could make that out.”

“I was cruising around the square.” Writer Lady says.

Dobby just stares.

“This is a small town. The square was there. I was there. It is Saturday night. You cruise around the square...you know to see and be seen.” Writer Lady says.

“So...um what's happening up on the square this January Saturday evening when it's 15 degrees out. Whom did you see? Who saw you?”

“Pardon?” Writer Lady asks.

“Who saw you cruise around all cool and confident in your salt encrusted ride?”

“It is January and awfully cold out. So the people I cut off because I was cruising.” Writer Lady answers.

“And...?”

“Oh yeah. The squirrels. The family of squirrels that live in the trees next to the courthouse saw me. They waved and gave me a thumbs up.”

“A thumbs up from the squirrels. That just makes it all worthwhile now doesn't it?” Dobby says rolling his eyes.

“Stop and think about what you're say-ing.” Writer Lady sings out. “Jealousy is never pretty,” she mutters under her breath and walks into the main house turning on lights, closing blinds, etc...

“I don' t think you understand what's important. ME!” Dobby says sitting on the blue chair in the living room. “You just run around day and night in your happy little world cruising around making friends with birds and squirrels. What do you think this is a Disney movie?”

Writer Lady quietly crosses to the cabinet where she keeps the TV remotes and pulls out her secret weapon. A laser pointer.

“I am a Very Important Feline, endorsed by the Gem of the Con herself.” Dobby continues his offensive.

Writer Lady points the laser to the wall in Dobby's field of vision. Flashing it off an on a couple of times. Dobby sees it and stops to pay attention. The light turns off.

“You need to get your act together and start giving my fame your full attention.” Dobby says.

The laser comes back on, sweeping across the floor and on to the wall. Dobby stops talking and devotes his full attention to the red light. Tensing, he wiggles his butt ready to pounce.

Writer Lady turns off the light.

“You really have become a bit distracted lately Mom. You need to Focus. Fo-cus.”

Writer Lady turns the light back on, whisking the laser back into his sights. This time Dobby's instincts take over, he follows the light across the floor, up the wall, down the length of the room, up another wall.

“I'm sorry kitty I missed that last part. What did you say?”

Dobby out of breath, is a panting heap in the middle of the living room floor. “Fo-cus!” the ginger tabby exclaims just as he falls into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Name That Neurosis

Dobby sits on the living room floor watching Writer Lady who sits on the couch.

The room is silent.

The house is silent except for the sound of the running furnace and the humidifier. Two separate things not one. Just so you know.

"Mom, it's after nine you could go to bed now." Dobby says. He has seen this look before on Writer Lady. It's not a good one.

It's Wednesday night, not much on TV. It's been a long day. No fun on the horizon...

"Dobby it's funny. It really is. This moment right now is one of my worst fears. Did you know that kitty? The next fifty years of this."

Silence abounds.

"Oh no...it's starting." Dobby mutters.

TP and I came up with a plan for this. What was the code word? I can't remember...

"Dobby, you know what I wonder?" Dobby's eyes grow bigger as she talks, more quickly and less steadily with each passing moment. "I wonder if in fifty years when I finally do drop dead where will I be sitting? Will it be in this spot?"I bet it's going to be in this exact spot. There will be a really well worn butt indention right here in fifty years."

Think Dobby think.

I can't think of anything. Maybe if I do something cute I can distract her.

Dobby stiffens his body and concentrates on an obscure spot on the floor. The ginger tabby starts chirping excitedly and bobbing his head.

“What are you looking at kitty? Can Mama help you?” Writer Lady says.

Help. That's the word! “Help!” Dobby says, calling to TP.

The living room goes dark. There is thunderous rumble and a blast of fireworks. An announcer bellows, It's time to play Name that Neurosis. With your host, TP the Faerie and his lovely assistant Dobby! (quickly announcer rattles –We decided Dobby is okay even if he is only a cat.)

Startled, Writer Lady is sitting up as far back against the couch as she can go.

Here is our first contestant, she's cute, she's complicated and slightly annoying. Really, so cute we love her anyway. Please welcome, Writer Lady!

Pixies and faeries can be heard cheering in the background.

“I've seen her before. This is going to be fun.” a pixie says in a high pitched voice.

“She is such a puzzle not even Milton or Bradley will talk to her,” another pixie giggles.

On with the show!

Taking center stage in a pale blue prom tuxedo complete with ruffled shirt, TP begins. “For those of you at home who are not familiar with this game. It is simply this.”

“Dobby...” TP says with a sweeping gesture of his arm. The spotlight moves to Dobby.

Dobby smiles. “What?” he asks through clenched teeth.

“The object of the game. Please tell audience for us.” TP continues.

“You tell them. You're the host.” Dobby answers.

“I appeared when you asked for help, came up with the name and I'm wearing this stupid tux. It's your turn to do something.” TP says.

“Something's wrong.” Pixie one says looking in TP and Dobby's direction.

“Let's go see.” Says pixie too. (Too is spelled correctly in this case. These are pixies they don't follow rules).

“Tell them the rules my assistant!” TP announces again.

“I don't know any rules or the object of the game. I've got nothing. Bupkis.” Dobby argues.

“He's got nothing.” Pixie one announces to the crowd.

“Butt kiss.” Pixie too adds.

Pixie one looks at pixie too and shakes her head. “No, no, no...” There is whispering.

“Bupkis! That was Bupkis folks!” Pixie too corrects her blunder.

There are sharp intakes of breath throughout the audience.

In Faerie a bupkis is way worse than a butt kiss which is really quite nice for them. Just so you know.

The audience becomes angry and starts throwing whatever they have with them. Mostly faerie dust which doesn't hurt much. It's symbolic.

“You have broken one of the big five rules, TP.” Pixie one says, snapping her fingers a scroll materializes in front of her. Unrolling it she reads, “Rule number 5. Games must be thought up and ready for play upon introduction of said game. You must be punished.”

TP pales at the news.

The audience is silenced. Shocked that such a punishment will be executed in front of them.

“TP – Faerie of Faerie A.K.A. Totally Pixilated you have been found guilty of breaking Rule 5 of the Fae's Big Five. Prepare to meet your punishment.” Merlin's voice rumbles throughout the living room.

Pixie One and Pixie Too face TP and say in unison, “You were a very bad boy and the pixies aren't going to play with you—Any More!”

TP hangs his head sadly.

The living room empties of faeries and pixies. The faerie dust disappears and the lights come back up.

Seeing it is safe to walk around without stepping on any magical creatures Writer Lady gets up and walks over to TP. “I'm so sorry TP. I don't know what that was all about. You didn't deserve such a harsh punishment. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Thank you Writer Lady. But no there isn't.” TP answers.

“He was helping me take care of you Mom.” Dobby says. “We were distracting you so you stopped freaking out.”

“I was a bit on edge there wasn't I? Well you can be sure I won't be doing that again. That fear was right in front of me and it didn't win.”

“That fear is gone?” Dobby asks.

“That fear is gone.” Writer Ladys says with a smile and heads off to bed.

“One down only 5160 to go.” TP giggles.

“There are no more pixie dates for you. Why are you laughing?”

“You have 5160 more fears to go.” TP giggles some more. “By the way, Any More ends next week. Good night Dobby.”

Going Incognito

 “No. That's not it.” Writer Lady is sitting at the computer, muttering and sounding frustrated. “Gunnery Blue?” She says. Looking over her shoulder at the stormtrooper standing next to the doorway in High Command. “Crap! That's not it either.”

Hearing her frustrated, grumblings from his cozy spot in the living room Dobby enters wondering what the fuss is about this time. “Mom? What's wrong?” Dobby asks.

Writer Lady stops her Internet surfing and glances back over her shoulder at the stormtrooper. He has been guarding High Command since Christmas and he still doesn't have a name. It's really starting to bug me.”

“It's not real Mom. It doesn't need a name.” Dobby says.

“If it takes up space in my world and I can name it then it needs a name.” Writer Lady says.

“No it doesn't.” Dobby quietly argues.

“Yes it does.”

Dobby shakes his head. “No it really doesn't.”

“Yes it does. You have a name.” Writer Lady points out.

“I'm your baby. The baby always gets a name.”

“The plants have names.” Writer Lady says.

“They are living creatures. Not as interesting as I am. But still nameable.”

“The stuffed animal on the bed has a name.” She says.

“It's my stuffed animal, I'm the baby. So I wanted Floppy Dog to have a name. I always get what I want.” Dobby counters.

“The car has a name too.”

“That's because you're weird Mom.”

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious, kitty. Do you love me?”

“Of course I love you. You are the Mom. Scooper of the box, bringer of the kibble, changer of my water.”

“If you love me then I get what I want. What I want is a name for the stormtrooper.”

Dobby looks at the stormtrooper again. “How about if we move his post? In here” Dobby says. Walking across High Command and pushing the closet door open with his head. “If you don't see him you won't feel the need to name him.”

“Nope. Too late. He's been here over two weeks he needs a name. Besides you called him a “he.” You didn't say “it.”Deep down you think he needs a name too. So think. Help me name him.”

“What have you tried?” Dobby asks, licking his butt as he listens.

“Buzz Lightsaber?” After the stormtrooper I encountered at the Land of the Rising Bird.

“No. It doesn't work. He has a big gun not a red lightsaber. The other guy was all white. This one has blue trim.” Dobby says.

“I came to the

exact same conclusion.”

“What else?”

“Gunnery Blue?”

“Well he does have a gun and he does have blue on him. I'm sorry Mom that one kind of sucks.” Dobby comments.

“Ditto” Writer Lady agrees.

“Anything else?”

“Grandma suggested Number One.”

“Like Star Trek?” Dobby asks.

Writer Lady nods.

“No. It's okay to like both Star Wars and Star Trek but it's not right to mix them together. Besides, I'm your Number One Mom.”

“Against crossovers huh?”

Dobby nods.

“Okay. Well, you are my Number One kitty so calling him that wouldn't be right at all.”

Dobby stops licking and sits up. “How about Number Two?”

“Number Two?” Writer Lady asks.

“Number Two can mean second in line or give me a second I'm going to poop.” TP appears giggling.

“Dobby...” Writer Lady says scolding the ginger tabby.

“I'm sorry...it's just you're making such a big deal over nothing.”

“I don't think it's nothing. He doesn't think it's nothing either. He needs a name.” Writer Lady stresses.

“She acts like the stormtrooper has feelings or something.” Dobby says looking up at TP and rolling his eyes.

“Ah the anthropomorphism...she does have a knack for that doesn't she?” TP asks.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.” TP answers.

Tinkletoes walks through the living room and hall. He stands in the doorway of High Command. “Hey Dobby have you seen the cards I brought over the other day?”

“No, no...NO!” Writer Lady bangs at the keyboard, putting her head to the desk in defeat.

“What's her problem?” Tinkletoes asks.

“Mom's trying to name the stormtrooper.” Dobby says.

“Doesn't she like his name?” Tinkletoes asks.

“He has one?”

“Yeah, he told me the other day when I introduced myself. Incognito. The name's stupid if you ask me. He's wearing a suit of armor. What do you expect out of a clone anyway? They don't know how to think for themselves. Does anyone even know what a suit of cognito looks like?”

Whatever Happened To Monitor Man?

Writer Lady sits down in front of the computer.

"Mom?" Dobby asks.

"Yeah?" Writer Lady answers and then sips on her coffee.

"So, what ever happened to Monitor Man?"

"Good question,” she answers.

"Let's check the papers." Writer Lady says.

Writer Lady starts looking for articles about Monitor Man. "So according to these papers you brought me, Monitor Man either has left Hollywood to be the leader of an obscure Third World country in

the South Pacific, was abducted by Aliens, or fell in love with an Alien and ran off to an obscure Third World Country in the South Pacific. This one says he went to South Argentina which is located in France? Dobby, what kind of newspapers are these anyway?" Writer Lady looks at the front. "Kitty these are tabloids."

"So." Dobby says.

"These are not a reliable source for news."

"Just call him and ask him what he's doing." Dobby says looking at Writer Lady expectantly.

"He didn't give TP a phone number. He didn't ask for one either. Face it Dobby, that visit was due to a tear in the space time continuum. So kitty. I love you. If you want to see Monitor Man you are going to have to turn on the TV like everyone else."
“O-kay..." Dobby leaves High Command muttering (I always knew there was something wrong with that guy--no catnip, no phone calls)(more muttering) He'd have a lot to answer for if he had accepted any of Mom's pie. Entering the living room, he sees the remote on the couch. Dobby jumps up on the couch and starts changing channels using the tip of his tail. “Where are you? Stop hiding from me. There you are.” Dobby stops and watches Monitor Man. Closely. “You're mine now.” Dobby jumps down from the couch, crosses to the TV, backing up to the television stand he lifts his tail and...
“DOBBY! What do you think you're doing kitty?” Writer Lady exclaims.
“Nothing.” Dobby answers lowering his head.
“You promised me when I adopted that you were a gentleman that would never raise his tail.” Writer Lady says.
“Mom, you promised not to get my nuts whacked off either. We both know how that turned out.” Dobby reminds her.
“You got me on that one. What were you doing? You never behave like this.”
“I'm mad.” Dobby says.
“At who?” Writer Lady asks.
Dobby turns his head, looking up at the TV.
“Oh...”
Dobby turns his head looking back at Writer Lady. “Aren't you?”
Writer Lady sighs, thinks for a moment and says, “No I'm not.”
“But he...”
“He what?”
Dobby's expression goes blank.
“Exactly. He didn't do anything. TP brought him here under false pretenses. He didn't call the cops, didn't yell he was kidnapped. He was polite, gracious and took the time to have a nice visit. Then he went home. Monitor Man did nothing wrong.”
“He never called.” Dobby says.
“People don't call after they visit sometimes. It's not required.” Writer Lady points out. “It was a surprise. A gift. It's time to let it go.”
“Aren't you sad or something?” Dobby asks.
“It's me Dobby. I can cry over pretty much anything on a bad day. It is part of who I am sometimes. I only have good feelings about Monitor Man's visit and so should you.”
“Let it go huh?” Dobby asks.
“Let it go.”
“You know you never could have hit the TV spraying from down there anyway.”
“I was going to spray while I jumped up to the level of the TV. I had it all planned. Right between the eyes.”
“All you would have done was destroyed the TV.” Writer Lady points out.
“You need a new one. One I'll like watching more. Besides Grandpa hates that you still have this.”
“It's fun watching Grandpa try to break it so I have to get a new one. Nothing is ever going to break this TV.” Writer Lady says grinning.
Dobby looks up at the TV. Monitor Man reappears on the screen. “You didn't send me any catnip. You weenie.” Dobby says, jumping up he raises his tail and...the television sizzles, crackles and goes dark.
“DOBBY!”
“It's okay Mom. Let it go. Just let it Go.”

Stuff In Your Eye

Writer Lady calls to Dobby from her Big Writing Chair. "So what is it we're doing tonight?"

"You're writing Mom haven't you caught on to this yet?" Dobby asks in return.

"I know that. But what about?" Writer Lady asks.

Dobby sighs and rolls his eyes from his comfy spot on the couch, “I guess I have to do everything don't I?” he asks.

Dobby enters High Command, "Just pick something. Anything." He looks up at Writer Lady from his spot on the floor.
"Oh, just a minute kitty. You got stuff in your eye." Writer Lady says in an annoyingly high pitched voice. She reaches down to remove the offending goo.

"When I said 'Just pick something' I didn't mean that." Dobby says.

Writer Lady cleans her finger off with a tissue and disposes of it. "I know kitty but, there was stuff in your eye. You know I can't let icky stuff sit there like that."

“How do you explain the crap growing in the fridge then?” Dobby asks.

“That's different.” Writer Lady says, continuing her writing.

“That's stuff you eat. This is just gooey stuff in my eye.” Dobby says.

“See but, that is where you are wrong kitty. I'm not eating it.” Writer Lady says. She puts her hand over one side of her mouth as if sharing some big secret. “That's how the food gets that way.”

“Why don't you eat it?”

“Because I cook it and it isn't very good sometimes. So I shove it in the fridge. That's where inedible leftovers go to die. Besides, I'm hoping one day Tinkletoes will see it and decide not to visit anymore. Or better yet eat some of it.”

“You do know that by shoving the um...(Dobby coughs for emphasis) crappy leftovers in the fridge to die. They are co-habitating with your edible food?” Dobby asks.

“Your point?”

“The good flavors and the bad flavors are rubbing up against each other.”

“No they aren't. I tell the good food when I put it in there to stay away from the crappy stuff. Crappy friends equals crappy flavors.”

“You think the food understands?” Dobby asks.

“Of course it does.”

“Does it talk back?”

“Sometimes,” Writer Lady answers paling a bit.

“What does the food say?” Dobby asks.

“Don't eat me?” Writer Lady answers. “That's not creepy is it?”

“Yeah it is Mom. Just a little bit.”

“Oh...”

“I've been thinking. Maybe you need to get out just a little bit more often. Talk to other humans.” Dobby suggests.

“I see people all the time. I talk to people all the time.”

“Where? Who?

“At work. Grandma calls.” Writer Lady says.

“That's good. Let's mix it up just a little bit.”

“When?” Writer Lady asks. “For how long?”

“As soon as possible. Until the food in the refrigerator stops talking to you.” Dobby says.

“Really?”

“Yes Mom really.”

“But I go to the store every week there are new things to talk to all the time.”

“Mom...canned goods and oranges don't count.”

“Damn.”

***No oranges or other foods were talked to death during the writing of this blog.  No humans talk to foodstuffs of any sort in Writer Lady's home.  This is purely fictional there is no cause for alarm.  By the way, eat more produce because if you don't plants are sacrificing their offspring in vain.  Wait a sec...that was the apples.  The oranges say eat more cheese puffs because nothing dies to make that. This is just confusing.  (Sighs)  I'm done putting up messages for you!  Go back to the fridge!  It's past your bedtime.

Man Down

Tinkletoes is down. From his position, on his back in the middle of the living room floor, the odor stifling. Tinkletoes tries breathing through his mouth but that just makes it worse.

Dobby takes this opportunity to make himself scarce.
“Breathe Dragon pee stink through your nose...down you go. Breathe Dragon pee stink through your mouth you're gonna pass out.” TP giggles.

“Dylan, get that pee outside, Quick!” Peter instructs. “Don't spill. Furnatche stay with me.” Furnatche whimpers looking up at Peter, the dragon takes a seat by his side. Both look down at Tinkletoes. “Things seem to be a little better.” Peter says after sniffing at the air, lightly.  

 Dylan comes back in the house. “Did you spill?” Peter asks.

The four year old shakes his head.

“Go wash your hands.” Peter instructs. “Now what do we do about this?”

“Give him mouth to mouth.” TP giggles.

Peter glares at the faerie, then hears a loud slurping noise coming from the his right side. He looks at Furnatche in time to see the baby dragon's big wet tongue return to it's mouth. Peter looks down at Tinkletoes whose head is dripping with dragon slobber.

“Mom?” Tinkletoes calls out.

Furnatche smiles. His tail swishes joyfully.

Peter looks up at TP. Both work hard to contain their laughter.

“Furnatche licked you. You passed out. He thought he was helping.”

Tinkletoes reaches out wiping his face. Opening his eyes, he looks at the slobber covering his hand. “The dragon pisses and I pass out. The dragon licks me and I wake up.”

Looking at Furnatche, “You got me from both ends didn't you?” Tinkletoes asks.

The baby dragon nods with enthusiasm, tongue dangling.

“What happened?" Tinkletoes asks Peter, "Two tours of duty in desert terrain, things rotting everywhere and I have never smelled anything like that before."

“Furnatche's a dragon silly.” TP says.

“Furnatche's waste is special. If it doesn't touch anything organic it has no smell and disappears in seconds. If it makes contact with something organic then it smells.”

“A LOT! More than anybody else's. Even Daddy.” Dylan says returning from the bathroom.

“That took a while.” Peter said looking at his little brother. “You weren't playing in the water were you?”

“I'm four. It's what I do.” Dylan answers.

Turning his attention back to the mercenary, “Because Furnatche is from a different world his waste decays at an alarming rate once it gets the smell.  The more organic surfaces it touches the stronger the smell becomes. The smell becomes so strong it seems like it takes forever to fade. That's what Paige says anyway.” Peter explains.

Tinkletoes looks at Peter. “You know you'll do a lot better in life if you didn't listen to everything girls tell you. They're driven by their emotions. There are some situations emotions don't belong in.”

“Says the man whose feelings are hurt.” TP finishes.

Tinkletoes glares at TP.  “Just remember kid. Women are the enemy.” Tinkletoes says looking Peter in the eyes. He stands, carefully. “I don't let myself care about such things."

Tinkletoes looks at TP, “My idea didn't work, Peter's and Dylan's ideas didn't work either. What's next?” he asks.

“TP gets a turn.” Dylan smiles.

“Okay. TP fix this.” Tinkletoes says as he folds his arms across his chest.

“I will fix this and I will fix things for you too. I will need your bag silly man. As well as your helpers.”

Tinkletoes gives Peter a quick nod. Peter picks up the artillery bag. The two boys and the baby dragon make their way to the far side of the living room. There is a huddle. Lots of whispering and pointing. They get to work. Peter and Dylan use small pieces of aluminum foil and wrap them around the tips of the branches. The pieces were small and the work goes quickly. In the less than an hour the tree is covered in foil.

When they are nearly finished Dylan wakes Tinkletoes from the nap he's stealing on the couch. “What?!”

“Mr. T.  Wake up. It's done.” Dylan says smiling in the mercenary's face.

Looking over the small boy's head Tinkletoes studies their work.  “I can see that. Writer Lady is going to love that. It looks like a bright, shiny boat.”

“Or a tin hat.” Peter points out.

An evil laugh escaped Tinkletoes' throat. “That it does kid. That it does. I guess we won, didn't we?”

“TP's not finished yet.”

TP floats over to the shiny tree, using some dance moves that are probably way cool in the land of faerie, he coats the foil with a generous layer of faerie dust. The faerie snaps his fingers when the pyrotechnical boom goes off behind him and the dust lights up. The living room is filled with rich, luminous color. Everyone is transported from Writer Lady's living room to an outside ball room inside the two remaining walls of an old castle in TP's home world. “I used to play here when I was little.”

“Where is this?” Peter asked.

“My backyard.” TP says.

“Woooow!” Dylan exclaims breathlessly. Furnatche lets out a yip of excitement bouncing through the tall buttercups that litter the field around the ballroom.

“I want to play tag! You're it Peter! You got to find me.” Dylan calls running away.

“Is it done?” Writer Lady asks walking into the incredible sight that used to be the living room. She is followed closely by Aunt Purdy and Paige.

"Yes. It is. Brilliant isn't it?"  Tinkletoes asks.  "We didn't move a single ornament either."  

 TP glares at Tinkletoes. Peter too. Dylan and Furnatche hear the words and stop playing to look up at the group standing in the remains of the ballroom. 

 "The shimmering is beautiful.  Which I know has to be TP's work.  Thank you TP.  But the tree looks so different.  It reminds me of something.  Something that's just annoying.  I can't think of what exactly.  This is going to drive me crazy until I think of it.  But when I do..."

 "A simple 'Thank You' will do."  Tinkletoes says.

 Writer Lady responds, "Thank you."  

"Say, 'Thank you for doing it without moving the ornaments.'" Tinkletoes presses on.

"Thank you, for doing it without removing the ornaments." Writer Lady says speaking more softly and quietly with every syllable.

"You're welcome.  You can go do girly things in the kitchen now if you like.  Everyone is hungry."  

Writer Lady's face reddens, "'Excuse me?!"  

"I'm sure they are starving!  Let me show you that new recipe I was talking about."  Aunt Purdy says guiding Writer Lady into the kitchen.  

"He sent me to my own kitchen.  No man sends me into my kitchen!  If it weren't for Dobby."  She looks at Aunt Purdy, "Someday...his ass is out of here."  Writer Lady mutters, glaring back at Tinkletoes who is proudly reclining on the couch.  

"But not today." He finishes.

The Men Are On A Mission

Dylan's face grows red. Peter moves in between Tinkletoes and Dylan.

“What my brother was trying to say is let's each of us come up with a solution. Put them in a hat pull them out and decide what will work the best.” Peter says.

“No. No. That takes too long. Let's say what we think. Try it or decide not to. If it doesn't work go on to the next one.” Tinkletoes counters. “Besides. I brought my bag. I'm sure we can fix this in no time.”

“With a flamethrower?” Peter asks.

“Not the flamethrower, that would just burn the whole tree down. I don't have just the flamethrower in here. We'll find something else.” Tinkletoes reaches into the bag and pulls out a grenade. Holding it up he says, “How about this?”

No one answers.

“Okay no grenades.” Tinkletoes says, rifling through his bag.

“Sir?   Do you have anything that's um...not combustible?” Peter asks.

“Flare guns don't count, do they?”

Peter shakes his head.

“I didn't think so.” Tinkletoes says pulling MREs out of the bag. “TP can you make a crumbled MRE glow in the dark?” The faerie shakes his head. “Matches don't help either. Okay that's it. I've got nothing.”

“What if we just turned the lights up? Made it brighter?” Peter asks. “Of course. Turn up the lights.” TP says going through a series of elaborate steps including slowly turning around.

“You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn yourself around.” Dylan starts to sing and dance.  “That's what it's all about!” Dylan  finishes the song.

“What's with the dance?” Tinkletoes asks TP. It never takes you so long to do anything.

“The Hokey Pokey is my favorite—silly.” TP giggles.

With that, the lights turn themselves up, a lot.

“Wow.” Dylan says.

“That didn't help much at all.” Tinkletoes says.

“The dark spots are so...”

“obvious.” Dylan finishes.

“Wait a minute, you're four. How do you know how to use that word?” Tinkletoes asks.

“Paige!” Dylan answers with an eye roll.

“Dylan's right, our sister is smarter than most kids.” Peter answers.

Tinkletoes makes his way over to TP. “These kids just don't listen. I said no girls.”

TP mutters.

“So, TP.   Turn down the lights.” TP makes a sweeping motion with his butt. The lights go back to normal.

“What's next?” Tinkletoes asks. There is an eerie silence in the living room. After a moment, Tinkletoes feels something tugging at the leg of his pants. The mercenary looks down to see Dylan and Furnatche in front of him.

“Did you know my dragon pees?” Dylan asks.

“We all do kid.”

“My dragon has special pee.  It glows.  He has to go right now too.” Dylan says.

“Is it bright?” Tinkletoes asks.

“You can read by it.” Peter answers.

Tinkletoes studies the older boy for a minute. “I'm not going to ask how you know that. Let's give it a shot. Don't let this dragon pee until I tell you. Understand?” Tinkletoes says looking down at Dylan. The tow headed boy and the baby dragon both nod. “Peter you come with me.” Tinkletoes and Peter head into the kitchen to find an appropriate receptacle. Tinkletoes is opening cabinets and peering inside. “She uses that, that too. She'd notice this one missing.” Peter walks over to a cabinet at the opposite end of the room and pulls a stainless steel bowl off of the bottom shelf. “Use this one. Writer Lady only touches these to move them out of her way when she is looking for something else.”

“She won't notice something missing?” Tinkletoes asks.

“How many bowls are there?” Peter asks.

“Three.”

“There used to be eight. She won't notice.”

Tinkletoes and Peter make it back into the living room as Furnatche is whimpering in discomfort.

“Here you go kid. Furnatche can fill this up.” Tinkletoes says handing the bowl to Dylan.

“Make sure he only pees in the bowl, Dylan. If he pees anywhere else it could be like last time.” Peter instructs his younger brother.

“What happened last time?” Tinkletoes asks.

“Silly human. Asks silly questions.” TP giggles.

Everyone watches as Furnatche lines himself up to the metal bowl. Whizzing commences.

“What a way to spend a Saturday night, watching a baby dragon pee.” Tinkletoes says, waiting for everyone to agree. As the bowl fills up and the magical energy accumulates the room begins to glow. “It's glowing.” Tinkletoes says, studying the urine. “Is it sparkling too?”

“Yup. 'Glow and sparkles. Sparkles and glow. Dragons have been peeing and that's how we know'. We had training rhymes about dragons when I was little.” TP says.

Furnatche finishes his business and everyone studies their loaded weapon.

“I think if we set this under the tree the glow will bounce off of the lit bulbs and the glass ornaments. Let's see if it works.” Tinkletoes says.

Peter picks up the bowl gently setting it under the Christmas tree. The glow from the urine illuminates everything. The tree looks amazing.

“Gentlemen. Mission Accomplished.” Tinkletoes says looking around the room at the rest of the technical team. TP is gracious. Peter smiling. Dylan and Furnatche excited to have helped. Dobby is bored and scratching at something. “This was a mission for men, as men we were successful!”

Dobby is still scratching. He is shedding fur. One tiny strand, floats across the room landing in the bowl of dragon urine. Tinkletoes takes a deep breath in to make his final proclamation and leave the house a conquering hero when the previously invisible scent of dragon urine hits him full force.

It's Just Not Right

                                                  

“Oh dear me. Whatever is wrong with this tree?” Writer Lady exclaims looking at the Christmas Tree.

“You've been playing with the picture books again Mom, haven't you?” Dobby asks as he enters the living room. Writer Lady is standing across the room from her work scrutinizing.

“Well sweet kitty, Dylan needed to hear a story. There was nothing else for it.” She answers.

Dobby looks over at the young boy and the baby dragon sitting on the couch. There is a large stack of picture books piled up where Writer Lady had been sitting.

“They did help with the decorations. Where's your Christmas spirit?” Writer Lady looks at the ginger tabby smiling.

“For it and spirit? The effects are wearing off, at least. Where did I put that?” Dobby asks, pretending to look around. He pulls an empty box out of his pocket and opens it. “Sorry Mom, all gone, the box is completely empty. No Christmas Spirit.”

“Let me see that.” Writer Lady says, reaching to take the box from Dobby. Looking at the lid, it reads, Christmas Spirit The Hap Hap Happiest Catnip Ever. If this catnip can't make you happy, there's no hope. “Dobby. I'm disappointed in you. You act like life is all about you. Getting things.”

Dobby's eyes swell and fill with tears. “I can't believe it. After all of this time. You're finally getting it. I'm so proud of you Mom.”

“It's not all about you. Right now it's about this Christmas tree. Something about it doesn't look right. I can't tell you what the problem is. Tell me kitty, what do you see?”

“I don't see anything. Maybe if you turned on the lights.” Dobby suggests.

“The lights are on.” Writer Lady says.

Everyone exchanges glances, then looks back at the tree.

“Okay.” Writer Lady says. “We know what the problem is. That's good. It needs more lights. Let's get the ornaments off of it.”

Furnatche and Dylan get up off of the couch to help remove ornaments.

“Wait.” Dobby says.

“For what?” Writer Lady asks.

“Isn't there an easier way to do this?” Dobby asks.

“Let me see...” Writer Lady says putting her hand to her temple and concentrating. “No, there isn't.”

“You didn't even try to find a new way to do this.” Dobby says.

“That's because I know. I have learned this lesson already. There is no shortcut when adding more lights to the Christmas tree.”

“Did you ever have me before? Or Tinkletoes, Furnatche or TP?” Dobby asks.

“No.”

“Then you can't be sure there isn't a short cut.”

“Yes I can.” Writer Lady argues.

“No you can't.” Dobby counters. Walking to the far corner of the living room. Dobby picks up the Big Red Flashlight and shines it out the window. He turns it on. A bright message lights up the sky. It says: USTINK.

“What are you doing?” Writer Lady asks.

“Calling for the rest of my technical team. We are like those science guys. We are going to prove that you can light up a Christmas tree without taking off the ornaments.”

“You are going to disprove a fact with a team of guys who respond to a light up sign in the night sky?”

“They rock. You know like Batman.” Dobby points out.

“According to that sign they just stink.” Writer Lady says.

“No they don't.”

“Yes, they do.” Writer Lady argues.

“No Mom they don't.”

“That's what the sign says. I'm standing right here reading the sign.”

“That's not what is it says. It says: U Silly Tink.”

“This is signal is for Tinkletoes?” Writer Lady asks.“So what's with the signal? Why not do something simple like make his lightsabers glow at random intervals, send a message on his TV screen or put faerie dust in all of his underwear and make it set his butt on fire when you want Tinkletoes' attention. Something that would get his attention. You know something that works.”

“Mom you underestimate Tinkletoes.” Dobby says shaking his head.

“Really? He spends long evenings looking up into the darkness and pondering deep thoughts?”

“No but he spends many nights monitoring the night sky for UFOs. To keep us safe from all the Aliens.”

“Okay. One question. Does he buy the aluminum foil for his hats retail or does he get whole sale prices?”

“It's me. I always get my foil whole sale.” Tinkletoes answers walking in the living room.

At that moment, a flaming arrow flies past the picture window landing in the snow at the far edge of the yard and extinguishes itself. @#$%. A muffled cursing is heard from Writer Lady's driveway.

“Just a sec.” Tinkletoes says opening the front door and yelling “It's okay Carp. I'm here already.”

Turning around and coming back in the house with TP fluttering at his shoulder Tinkletoes closes the door behind him sheltering the living room from the cold. “That was Carp. I asked him to signal I was on my way. I got here first.”

“He isn't part of your “technical team?” Writer Lady asks.

“No. He is still fine tuning his core skills. No time for anything else right now.”

“Ooh. A specialist. In what?” Writer Lady asks, imitating a young girl ready to dish on some gossip.

“Undetectable Assassination Implementation.” Tinkletoes answers.

“That guy's a sniper?” Writer Lady asks.

“No. A bow and arrow are his preferred weapon. He is a Silent Killer. He will be anyway.” Tinkletoes answers looking at Writer Lady markedly. “What's the problem? I'm supposed to be on duty.”

“Look at the tree my friend and you will understand.” TP says.

“Yes. Of course. It needs more lights.”

“Mom says we can't light this tree up more without taking off the ornaments first.” Dobby says.

“That's because you can't. Everyone knows that you can't.” Writer Lady argues.

“Has she been like this long?” TP asks.

“All day.” Dobby answers.

Squatting down, Tinkletoes whispers in Dobby's ear. “It's a girl thing. Get her out of here and we'll fix it.”

Dobby nods at Tinkletoes who stands up and quietly stares down the tree.

“You look tired Mom.   I have an idea.  Why don't you send Peter in? You, Paige and Aunt Purdy sit at the computer and look at girly stuff. Let us men handle this.” Dobby says.

Writer Lady's face reddens slightly. She stifles a laugh, almost rolls her eyes into the back of her head biting her tongue. “Okay, kitty” she says heading into High Command. Giggling can be heard from the room and whispering lots of whispering.

“What's all that giggling about?” Peter asks entering the living room.

“Giggling it's a girl thing. It means nothing.” Tinkletoes says. “Come on over here kid. Let me teach you something.” All of the males in the house are standing in front of the Christmas tree in a half circle. Dobby, TP, Dylan, Furnatche, Tinkletoes and Peter.

“So what's all this about?” Peter asks.

“This tree needs more lights.” Dobby announces.

“Great so let's take off the ornaments...” Peter says, reaching out for an ornament that is hanging nearby.

“No. There's another way to do this.” Dobby says.

“We will add more lights.” TP adds.

“Without moving a single ornament.” Tinkletoes finishes. “Like a man would.”

Furnatche whimpers slightly looking up at Dylan. Dylan looks down and shakes his head to reassure the baby dragon that this mission should not be dangerous.

“How are you going to add the lights?” Dylan asks.

“I don't know...”

“Hell if I know.”

“We're screwed,” came out all at the same time.

“Sometimes when we have a problem that seems overwhelming Aunt Purdy” Peter offers.

“No don' go there.”

“I don't want to hear it.”

“Females are the enemy,” comes out this time.

“But Aunt Purdy!” Dylan exclaims.

“No Girls!” Tinkletoes stresses irately.