Guy Things

“I'm a little deeper man. I'm a guy.” -- Duncan “Sweets” Donut.

“It's okay Mr. Donut, you don't have to tell everyone. They know.” -- Carp

“What should we do first?” Mr. Donut asks.

“You are our guest Mr. Donut. What would you like to do first?” Carp asks.

“Don't call me Mr. Donut. We're friends. No...wait.” Mr. Donut lowers his voice, “We're all guys. Call me “Sweets” or “Duncan.”

“Okay...Sweets. What would you like to do on your first day as one of the guys?” Carp asks.

“Yeah. A man gives up a lot when he gets married. You said Mrs. Donut wouldn't let you hunt. Let me show you how to fire a gun. We'll have you tearing things up like Rambo in no time.” Tinkletoes says reaching for Mr. Donut's arm.

“Actually there is one thing I'd like to do. I have not done it on my own terms in 47 years. It would feel so good to do it again.”

“I thought you said you couldn't do that stuff anymore.” Tinkletoes says.

“It's not that. Mrs. Donut and I had a grand time while she was alive. This is something else. It's a little embarrassing.” Duncan Donut grabs Carp by the arm and whispers in his ear.

Carp laughs for a second. “No Sweets we're all guys here. You can do that.”

“When should I?”

“Whenever you want to.” Carp says.

“Should I warn you first?” Mr. Donut asks.

“No just let her rip.” Carp says.

Mr. Donut concentrates for a moment and lets out a gentle toot! He blushes waiting to be reprimanded. “Okay. I'm done.” He says. “How liberating.” He announces with a smile.

“You're telling us you haven't farted in 47 years?” Tinkletoes asks.

“I have but never in this house. Never in the presence of a lady. I was encouraged as a boy that controlling where and how often I um...'broke wind' was my duty as a gentleman.”

“Even the little farts like that one?” Tinkletoes asks.

Mr. Donut nods.

“I wouldn't let no woman tell me when I could fart.” Tinkletoes says.

“You have nothing to worry about. Women don't get that close.” Carp points out.

“Writer Lady doesn't have a problem with me.” Tinkletoes says.

“You don't act the same around her. You shower and shave. You won't eat beans if you know you're going to see Dobby the next day.” Carp says.

“It sounds like he likes her.” Mr. Donut says teasing.

“He does.” Carp says.

“Does she like him?” Mr. Donut asks.

“If you listen to what she says, she tolerates him.” Carp says.

“I knew it.” Tinkletoes says. “I'm growing on her. Just like a tumor.” He smiles.

“Then he opens his mouth.” Carp says.

“What?” Tinkletoes asks. “I don't know why we're wasting time talking about women anyway. Daylight's a burnin'. It's time to blow something up.” He says walking out the front door, the dress' skirt fluttering along the top of his calves.

Tinkletoes' artillery bag hits the grass in Writer Lady's back yard with a thud. “Now this is what I'm talkin' about. This is how a man is meant to spend the Fourth of July.” He says. Tinkletoes is back in his camouflage and combat boots, the dress he was wearing minutes before just a memory. Unzipping the bag, Tinkletoes spreads a blanket on to the grass then he starts pulling guns, knives and ammo out and setting them down on the blanket. Mr. Donut picks up a grenade, throwing it into the air. Tinkletoes reaches out and catches it. “This is a grenade. It's not a toy. Don't throw it around like that.”

“I thought that's what we were here for.” Mr. Donut says.

“We are. But you're not ready for the grenades yet.”

Mr. Donut picks something else up.

“Nah...ah...ah. That's a flame thrower. You're not ready for that either.” Tinkletoes says taking the weapon from him. “We'll start with something simple.” Tinkletoes takes a knife out of his bag and unsheathes it. “This is a combat knife.” Tinkletoes says, handing it to Mr. Donut. “I want you to throw it at that tree.” He instructs pointing to an oak on the far side of the yard. “We can check out your aim.”

Holding his arm up, Mr. Donut tosses the knife. It ricochets off of Writer Lady's shed and hits a squirrel across the back of the head. The squirrel falls from it's perch on side of the tree, landing on the ground.

“How's it going?” Carp asks as he enters the back yard.

“There's good news and bad news.” Mr. Donut says. “My aim isn't very good.”

“No it isn't. His aim is so bad he bagged a squirrel. First try.”

Coming to, the squirrel raises its head and looking around runs up the tree it had fallen off of moments before.

“You didn't want to eat that did ya?” Tinkletoes asks. “That is my first rule of being a guy. If you kill something you gotta eat it.”

I'm Missin' Your Support Hose

“How long is this gonna take?” Tinkletoes asks after the first thirty minutes.

“I don't know.” Carp says. “I think he said something about having a guitar stand in every room of the house.”

Mr. Donut shuffles past them without a word on his way to the bathroom. Going inside he shuts the door behind him.

“Here's our chance. Let's split.” Tinkletoes says.

“Eureka!” Mr. Donut calls.

“See.” Tinkletoes says, “Now we're gonna have to listen to stories about his bowels and shit.”

“Is it necessary to repeat yourself?” Carp says.

“Huh?”

Mr. Donut opens the bathroom door. “Eureka! I found my guitar. This was the last place I was playing it.”

“You mean you play guitar while you're...” Tinkletoes asks.

“I'm 94. Some things take a while.” Mr. Donut says shuffling into the bedroom. He is carrying a shiny ebony guitar with a customized black leather strap that says 'Sweets' on it. Reaching into the hollow of the guitar he pulls out a small stack of papers. “This is it. A culmination of 70 years work. This has been brewing since I was fourteen years old and I got my first secondhand guitar. I remember the first time I heard “Too Late To Worry Too Blue To Cry”. I knew country music was a part of me. I was meant for it like it was meant for me.” He slowly hands his treasures to Carp, who carefully accepts them. As Carp and Tinkletoes read over the paperwork Mr. Donut keeps talking about his work. “I have never had the lyrics come together like this before. I have six songs so far. How long are records these days?” He asks. “I've never heard anything like my songs on the radio either. I think I might have something here.”

Carp and Tinkletoes read the list. Their faces go from shock, to surprise, to stifled laughter and back again.

“Are you having trouble reading it? I have trouble writing things down clearly sometimes.” Mr. Donut asks.

“No we, we can read it.” Carp says.

“You have to read it out loud sometimes in order to get the full affect.” Mr. Donut says.

“That's a good idea.” Tinkletoes says. “Why don't you read it out loud Carp?”

“I don't think...”

“Read it. Out Loud.” Tinkletoes repeats.

“Okay.” Carp says, paling a little. “Let's see what we have here. “1. Sweet Rainbow Sprinkles. 2. She Couldn't Be Crueller. 3. Donut Man. 4. I Miss The Rustle Of Your Depends 5. I Wear Your Cold Cream To Bed.” and “6. I'm Missin' Your Support Hose.”

“Support Hose is the one I'm the proudest of. Let me play that for you first.” Mr. Donut says bowing his head and adjusting the strings on his guitar.

Tinkletoes' face turns red with stifled laughter.

Carp glares at Tinkletoes.

“It's his best song Carp. Let Sweets play it for you.” Tinkletoes says leaning in to Carp. Tinkletoes turns his head away to stifle his laughter. Unable to contain himself he gets to the bathroom just as the intro starts.

“I'm missin' your support hose...and it's givin' me the blues.” Mr. Donuts sings. He plays the guitar skillfully, closing his eyes when he sings, letting the notes pour out. “Since you told me you was leavin', I've been feelin' so confused. You left me oh so lonely. I don't even have any ice cubes.”

Carp runs his hand down his face and covers his mouth.

“I'm missin' your support hose and it's givin' me the blues.”

“Okay now. Big finish.” Mr. Donut says. He brings the song to it's conclusion loudly and with great flourish waiting for applause.

Carp applauds and smiles painfully.

“So what do you think? Wait...before you say anything I want you to know I come from a tougher generation. Be honest. I can take it.” Mr. Donut says.

“Your sound is completely unique. I have never heard anything like it.”

Tinkletoes comes out of the bathroom. “You hope to never hear anything like it. Ever again.” He whispers as he passes Carp.

“What did you think?” Mr. Donut asks Tinkletoes.

“Well...um...” Tinkletoes says looking at the ceiling.

“Yes?”

“What's up with the ice cubes?” Tinkletoes asks.

Mr. Donut laughs for a moment, “Is he serious?” he says looking at Carp.

Carp laughs in agreement.

“The ice cubes are a metaphor for Mrs. Donut's passionate loving care. It was one of the things that made her the best wife of our generation. Ice cubes. Her ice cubes were never stale. For 64 years, I had scotch on the rocks every night when I got home from work. For 45 years, if we were dining at home, the ice in that drink was always fresh. Trust me a man can tell when he gets stale ice. She loved me that much. To make the extra effort every day to make sure I had fresh ice. That is the mark of a quality wife.”

“Really? I thought you knew a good woman because she would actually...”

Carp stands up and smacks Tinkletoes on the back of the head before he can finish his sentence.

“Have some respect.” Carp whispers.

“We're all guys.” Tinkletoes points out.

“She was some woman. She loved me with everything she had.” Mr Donut says, as his eyes tear up. “I miss her.”

“It's okay. Let it out. Let it out.” Carp says, enclosing Mr. Donut in a manly embrace.

“Put it back. Put that back now.” Tinkletoes says. He squats down and looks Mr. Donut in the eye. “It's been two years. You've probably been crying this whole time. Did it bring her back?”

Mr. Donut shakes his head.

“Of course not. Because you're a guy. Well, also because she's dead. I mean she can't come back. Guys don't do it this way. You got to take all your pain and bury it. Bury it deep. As far as you can. Then you do man things. When you're doing the man things you let the crap you buried come out and explode. It explodes right out of you like a batch of grenades. If you do it right, you've killed something.” Tinkletoes says.

“You mean like a rabbit or a deer?” Mr. Donut asks.

“Or a ninja zombie. If you're really lucky a space alien.”

“Mrs. Donut didn't approve of me hunting.” He says drying his tears.

“Mrs. Donut isn't here now is she?” Tinkletoes says grinning.

A light slowly begins to dawn at the end of both Mr. Donut and Tinkletoes' tunnels.

“No. She isn't.”

“She's dead. You can do whatever you want. You can do man things again.” Tinkletoes says.

“I can do man things again?”

“Because you're a guy.” Tinkletoes says.

“Because I'm a guy.” Mr. Donut repeats.

“No. Say it with grit this time. 'I'm a guy.'” Tinkletoes says.

“I'm a guy.”

“A little deeper man. 'I'm a guy.'”

“I'm a little deeper man. I'm a guy.” Mr. Donut says.

“It'll have to do.” Tinkletoes says. “Let Carp and me show you what you've been missing. I have guns, knives and live ammo. Let's go have some fun.”

“Um...Tink...” Carp says.

“Yeah. Just as soon as I get out of this dress.”

What Happens In The Bedroom...

“Um...um...” Tinkletoes says.

Mr. Donut rises from the bed to embrace the spirit of his late wife. For every step he takes, small shuffling ones, Tinkletoes takes a large step back.

“My advances always did render you speechless didn't they my dear?”

Tinkletoes pales. He furiously searches his mind for way out of this but he never planned a strategy for this type of scenario.

“I can hear your breathing as it quickens. Your spirit responds to me even if you cannot.” Duncan Donut reaches for Tinkletoes' hand. Tinkletoes quickly pulls it out of range and begins to fan himself.

“Please Sweets, just let me catch my breath for a moment darlin'.”

“Keep talking my little Rainbow Sprinkles. Your southern belle is the hottest thing north of Memphis.”

Tinkletoes fans faster. Think. I gotta think. Maybe if I let him keep talking I'll get an idea.

“I should have known when you appeared to me on the Fourth of July you were only after one thing.” Mr. Donut continues.

“I...I” Tinkletoes stammers.

“The Fourth of July. The day of our union. The day our two souls became one. For 45 years, no matter what happened or how we felt about each other we celebrated our love. You had such...enthusiasm.”

“Oh my goodness...” Tinkletoes squeaks. “You're 94 years old. You can't.”

“Not for years but my sweet little Rainbow Sprinkles. Your return, it makes me feel young again.”

“I can't. I'm a ghost. Remember? So just back off old man.” Tinkletoes warns.

“Telling me to back off and then using my favorite pet name? You have always teased me terribly my dear. What shall I do with you?” Mr. Donut asks shuffling up to Tinkletoes and backing him into a corner. He reaches out and touches Tinkletoes on the upper arm gently. “I am able to touch you. We have been gifted one more romantic moment together.” Squeezing Tinkletoes' arm a little tighter he notices something. “You have changed Rainbow. You seem...harder? Have you been working out?”

“A little.” Tinkletoes' voice is deeper than it was moments before. He coughs and squeaks out, “A little. Just some water aerobics. There isn't much to do up there.”

“Water aerobics gives you biceps?”

“Weights? Weights. They added weights and stuff.” Tinkletoes answers.

Mr. Donut runs his hand down Tinkletoes' arm to take his beloved late wife's hand in his own and interlace their fingers. “Tell me my dear. Does water aerobics increase one's body hair as well?”

“Menopause?” Tinkletoes says.

“That still happens when one does not have a physical body?”

“Oh yeah.” Tinkletoes answers. “One week a month, you know because the big guy can make those things happen, all the younger women up there...It's just hell. A complete hell.”

“Darling. I too have been through hell.” Mr. Donut advances, eyes closed, lips puckered.

“I'm a dude.” Tinkletoes says in his own deep voice.

Mr. Donut stops moving, opening his eyes. He sees a muscular man in a flowered dress with closely cropped hair and a five o'clock shadow. Mr. Donut lets out a horrified scream.

“Shh...” Tinkletoes says.

“Help me. Help me.” Mr. Donut calls feebly.

Tinkletoes reaches out and covers Mr. Donut's mouth with his hand. “I'm not a bad person. I'm not here to hurt you. This is all a misunderstanding,” he says.

Mr. Donut's eyes grow larger. A tap-tap-tap on the window startles both men. Straining a little Tinkletoes reaches out and opens the window for Carp.

“I was just coming to tell you that TP says you shouldn't let Mr. Donut touch you. If you do the spell dies.” Carp starts out quickly, he speech slows when he realizes he is too late. “You're a man again.”

“Really?” Tinkletoes asks.

“What can I do to help?” Carp asks.

“Calm him down.” Tinkletoes says.

Within minutes Mr. Donut is sitting on the bed with a glass of water in his hand. Carp is next to him listening intently. Tinkletoes is standing on the far side of the room trying not to feel so guilty.

“I don't understand it. He looked so much like my Clara at first.” Mr. Donut looks at Carp. “Are you sure I'm not going crazy?” He asks.

Carp shakes his head. “A friend of ours is working on some special costume make-up. It can really alter a person's features.”

“This so embarrassing.” Mr. Donut says hanging his head.

“It's okay. I'm sure you miss Clara terribly. Do you want to talk about her?” Carp asks.

“Talk about her? This man's been crying for two years. The last thing he needs to do is talk about her.” Tinkletoes says. “He needs to go outside more and do...I don't know. Old people stuff.”

“He's right. There is not much more to say.” Mr. Donut gestures to the frames on the bedroom walls. “It's all right here. This was our life together.”

Standing up, Carp studies the pictures.

“That's her favorite song on the turntable.” Mr. Donut says.

Walking over to the old stereo system, Carp looks at the record. “ 'Sugar, Sugar' by The Archies. An oldie.”

“But a goodie.” Mr. Donut says smiling. “It was our wedding song too. Clara loved music. She followed the Billboard charts like they were a bible.”

“Was there anything she didn't like?” Carp asks.

“Country Western music. She hated it. I loved it. I could only listen at the donut shop. I never let her work with me so I could listen. That was my world. I used to write songs when I was a young man. I started again a few months ago.”

“Really? You must have a lot of experience writing music.” Carp says.

“About 70 years now. I'm wasn't as good with the lyrics not until recently. Do you want to hear some?” Mr. Donut asks.

“No.” Tinkletoes says.

“Yes!” Carp says smiling.

“Just let me get my guitar.” Rising with assistance Mr. Donut shuffles to the living room for his guitar.

“I don't want to listen to this.” Tinkletoes says.

“Do you want to go to jail?” Carp asks.

“No.”

Muttering can be heard from a distance, “I always put my guitar in the same place. Did I move the place?” Shuffling continues. “This is just going to take a minute. I'll find it eventually.” Mr. Donut calls. “I always do. Sooner or later...”

Tinkletoes A.K.A. Mrs. Donut

Tinkletoes stops just outside the bathroom door studying his reflection in the hallway mirror. Looking back from the reflection is a grown man with thick closely cut hair, a five o'clock shadow, and massive arms. Hair from his legs is sticking out along the hem of the dress.

“I told you I was too manly for this. He'll never buy it.”

TP, Dobby, and Carp all gather around Tinkletoes.

“You might be right. And I thought you just really didn't want to put on the dress. I have to say this is disturbing.” Carp says looking at Tinkletoes with horror. “It's the angles, just too many angles. Women are supposed to be soft.”

“I know. There's just nothing soft about me.” Tinkletoes says. “Take off your shirt,” he says looking at Carp.

Carp takes off his shirt.

“You aren't very soft either and your pecs aren't big enough. They would never pass for boobs.” Tinkletoes points out. “This was the only plan I had too. Do you have a sister?” he asks looking at Carp. Carp shakes his head. “Maybe if the dress had sleeves?”

Dobby whispers something in TP's ear. The faerie nods. Turning around Dobby runs into Writer Lady's bedroom and returns with a large piece of fabric in his teeth.

“A shawl for the lady.” TP says giggling.

Bending down Tinkletoes gently accepts the shawl from the ginger tabby. “Thanks buddy.” He drapes it across his shoulders wrapping the ends around each arm. “Okay. How do I look?”

“Pretty girl.” TP giggles.

Dobby makes a face.

“I can't believe it.” Carp says. “It just gets scarier.”

“Paint your nails.” TP giggles. “TP go find lipstick.” The faerie does somersaults in the air as he laughs.

“Dammit TP! This is serious. We are at war faerie.” Tinkletoes says.

TP shakes his head and laughs. “No, not so serious.” The faerie keeps laughing. “Tinkletoes makes an ugly girl.”

“You...” Tinkletoes says reaching out to grab the faerie. TP somersaults out of Tinkletoes' reach and quiets his laughter.

“No. No. It's okay. TP has magic for you.”

Putting out his arms and wiggling his fingers TP says:

To make a lady from this buffoon

Is to bring forth a butterfly from it's cocoon

Soften the angles

“This doesn't sound like the usual spells.” Tinkletoes says to Carp.

“The fae are going through changes.” Dobby says. “Some of the spells are written by committee now.”

“This is my part.” TP giggles

Give him a pretty scent

Take away his burps

From this moment man is woman

May he be careful how much he flirts

Before TP, Dobby's, and Carp's eyes the ex-soldier and self-proclaimed mercenary's appearance changes. The five o'clock shadow, the hair on his arms and legs disappear. The lines of his face and visible muscles soften. Pecs become boobs and his hair grows out too.

“How do I look?” Tinkletoes asks with a higher and softer voice.

TP, Carp, and Dobby all look at each other.

“You smell better.” Carp says.

“Really?” Tinkletoes asks.

Leaning in Carp takes another whiff. “Sweet. Like cinnamon and sugar.”

After several minutes of monitoring the activity on the street, Carp and Tinkletoes take advantage of a few quiet moments and cross to Mr. Donut's house.

“I can't believe TP has all that magic and he couldn't give me shoes. This street is hot.” Tinkletoes says.

“Those barefoot and pregnant jokes you used to tell in high school aren't so funny anymore now are they.” Carp says.

“You don't think I can get pregnant while I'm like this do you?” Tinkletoes asks.

“I don't know. TP did a really good job on those boobs.” Carp says staring down. “He might have done other things too.”

“My eyes are up here Carp.” Tinkletoes says as they finish crossing the street. The pair stop in Mr. Donut's driveway. “You knock on the sliding door in the kitchen when he answers, I'll sneak in the bedroom through the window.” Tinkletoes says turning away.

Carp nods and says, “Promise me one thing.” Tinkletoes turns back to Carp. “Don't let Mr. Donut get to second base on the first date. That's just slutty.”

Tinkletoes glares at Carp. The two...um...men begin to part ways. Remembering something Tinkletoes whistles and they meet back in the driveway. “What was Mrs. Donut's name?” he asks.

“Clara.” Carp says. “But he always called her Rainbow.”

Scratching his head for a minute Tinkletoes turns and finds his way into Mr. Donut's bedroom.

“I don't know what it is with these people. A grown man comes to the door selling Girl Scout cookies on a holiday. He had no cookies. We should have moved five years ago when I suggested it.” Mr. Donut says as he returns to the safety of his bedroom. The walls are covered with frames. A couple takes a lot of pictures during a 45 year marriage. He had them all hanging where he could see them. Mr. Donut lays back down on his bed. “Clara I miss you so much,” he says. Tears fall again.

I can't believe this guy is still crying. Let's get this over with. “If you miss me so much then sit up and talk to me.”

“Clara?”

“Yes Duncan.” Tinkletoes says.

“Is it you?”

“Yes Sweets it's me.”

Mr. Donut sits up and opens his eyes. He gazes at the silhouette in the darkened room reaching for his glasses on the nightstand.

“What are you doing?” Tinkletoes asks gruffly.

“I'm getting my glasses my dear. I can't believe you're here.”

“It's me darling.” Tinkletoes reaches out and smacks Mr. Donut on the hand. “You don't need those glasses. Reach out with your heart, can't you feel that it's me?”

Mr. Donut closes his eyes. “I can smell cinnamon and sugar. It is you. My Rainbow. My little Rainbow Sprinkles.”

Rainbow Sprinkles? Tinkletoes mouths making a face.

“I have missed you so. Every day, every hour, every minute, every second of life has been so empty without you. Will you come home? Will you stay?” Duncan Donut asks.

“I can't stay Sweets. I'm dead.”

“Oh. I was hoping you were just really mad at me.”

“I'm a ghost.”

“Okay. I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“What took you so long?”

“What do you mean what took me so long?” Tinkletoes asks.

“It's been two years. Two years and not one visit. Haven't you stopped by? Heard me crying? Seen my tears?”

Of all the people that could help me, Carp finds the one with separation anxiety.

“I came back.” Tinkletoes says.

“You did come back.” Mr. Donut says.

“It's the Fourth of July?” Tinkletoes adds.

“It is the Fourth of July.” Mr. Donut agrees. Mr. Donut's features soften a bit. A wry grin crosses his lips. “Rainbow Sprinkles. You naughty little minx. You missed your Daddy didn't you?”

Facepalm

“No way. There is no way I will put on a dress.” Carp says pacing Writer Lady's living room floor.

“But you're more in touch with your feminine side. The old man is so distraught he might actually buy it.”

“I'm not helping. If you want to get permission like this you're going to have to put on the dress yourself.” Carp argues.

“If I put on the dress it's just not gonna look right. Women just don't have biceps like these.” Tinkletoes says, flexing a well sculpted arm.

TP's giggling can be heard in the background. “I will help you. I know a trick.” He says. The giggling continues.

“Now you're helping?” Carp asks glaring at TP. “Writer Lady asked you to supervise. You can't help.”

“Technically, Mom said TP was supposed to make sure Tinkletoes actually got permission from the neighbors and the signatures. She didn't leave specific guidelines.” Dobby says.

“Yeah! What he said.” Tinkletoes says with a big grin.

“She said that TP has permission to “use magic to stop you if you try to pull a fast one.” Carp reminds them.

“Mom didn't say anything about using magic to help.” Dobby points out.

“No she didn't!” Tinkletoes says pointing to Dobby. “That's if I try to pull a fast one. Dressing up, breaking in, finding the right place to wait, convincing Mr. Donut to do what I ask because I'm the ghost of his dead wife. I have to say, this crap is taking forever. I'm definitely not pulling a fast one.”

Carp raises his hand to his forehead, slowly runs his hand down his face, and begins to mutter. “I speak English, everyone hears English, yet no one is listening. Absolutely no one is listening.” Raising his head and looking back up at Tinkletoes he says, “What if someone sees you breaking in? What if they call the police?”

“It's the Fourth of July. Smelts is on duty. He won't arrest me. I'm a lot bigger than he is and besides I'm a lot smarter than he is.”

TP giggles.

“I don't know what's scarier about that. The fact that you can outsmart Smelts or the fact the this town finds it in their best interest to give Smelts a gun. I think it's time to move.”

TP is still giggling.

“You know something Carp? You were a lot more supportive of this idea yesterday.” Tinkletoes points out.

“You weren't talking about breaking and entering yesterday.” Carp answers.

“You have a lot to learn if you're going to be any kind of assassin.”

“Nope. I've got it all figured out. Don't do anything illegal and you won't get caught.”

“Assassins kill people. Killing is illegal.” Tinkletoes points out.

“I've found a way around that. I've decided since I always miss anyway, I'm going to use it to my advantage.” Carp answers proudly. “I'm going to attach a note to my arrow—when the target reads my note it will say: This has been a botched attempt on your life. Clean up your act. Don't make me come back here.”

“So instead of just neutralizing the target and collecting your money, you're going to stalk someone, attack them, and leave a traceable death threat?” Tinkletoes asks.

“It's possible this plan needs a little bit more work.”

Tinkletoes raises his hand to his head and runs it down the length of his face.

“I'll pretend I didn't hear that. Now put on the dress.” Tinkletoes says pointing to a full length flowered dress on a hanger that is floating in the air next to TP.

“I told you before. If you want to deceive that poor old man do it yourself.”

“I've had enough of your arguing Carp. Be a man and put on the stinkin' dress!”

TP looks at the dress he made materialize a few minutes before. Leaning in he sniffs. TP looks down at Dobby. The ginger tabby makes his way to the dress. Standing on his back legs, Dobby climbs up the skirt of the dress as far as he can without losing his balance. Sitting back down and looking up at TP, Dobby shakes his head confirming the dress smells fine.

“You have issues Carp. Some serious issues.” Tinkletoes yells, walking to the bathroom, taking the dress with him as he passes by it.

Tinkletoes' Troubles

“You keep thinking about this.” Carp says, leading Tinkletoes back to the front steps. “Sit down. You don't want to tire yourself. You have a big enough challenge ahead.”

“You spent way too much time in Writer Lady's head during the war. We haven't yanked all of her snarkiness out of you yet.” Tinkletoes says sitting down on the top step. “I do think better when I'm sitting down though.”

Another entrance door opens and shuts. Within minutes Writer Lady is backing out of the driveway, she rolls down the window, “Bye. Have fun today!” She calls smiling.

Carp waves and smiles as she drives away.

“I don't care what TP or anyone else says. That woman has a mean streak.” Tinkletoes says.

“I think it's you. I think you bring the obnoxious out.” Carp says.

“Me?” Tinkletoes asks. “I'm a teddy bear. Completely lovable.”

“How many teddy bears have their own flame throwers exactly?” Carp asks.

“You talk entirely too much these days.” Tinkletoes says glaring at Carp.

“Any ideas yet, Einstein?”

“I'm working on it.” Tinkletoes says resting his chin on his hand, focusing on the step between his feet, concentrating.

A shuffling noise is heard on the gravel driveway two houses down.

“There's Mr. Morely with his garbage. Right on time. He never remembers the holidays.” Carp says. He looks down at Tinkletoes who is lost in thought. “He's on your list too. I think I'll go help him take his trash back to the house so it doesn't catch fire today.”

“How about if we ignore the list and offer TP something to lie and tell Writer Lady we got all of the signatures? Can't we just do that?” Tinkletoes says. No response. “Carp?” Tinkletoes calls after looking up and discovering he is alone. Scanning the perimeter, Tinkletoes finds Carp deep in conversation with one of the neighbors. Carp looks at Tinkletoes. Smiling he looks back at the old man, shakes his hand and returns to Writer Lady's front steps.

“Who were you talking to?” Tinkletoes asks.

“That was Mr. Morely. He's on your list. I helped him put his trash can away, he forgot that today was the Fourth of July. I told him about the shooting range and your problem; having to get permission from so many of the neighbors. He says that Mr. Donut is who you should talk to. If you can get Mr. Donut to say 'yes' almost everyone else on this list will agree too. Mr. Morely looked at the list and all of your potential opponents are on vacation this weekend. Not even home. Which lowers the number to twelve households.”

“Where does Mr. Donut live?”

“Right across the street.” Carp says. “We need to be really nice to him, Mr. Morely said his wife died a couple of years ago and he's still sensitive about it.”

“Okay.” Tinkletoes says.

“No yelling. No bullying.”

“Got it.”

“Don't get in his face either. He's 94.

“I understand.”

“Don't forget...” Carp begins.

Tinkletoes glares at Carp. “I won't. What's his name?”

“Mr. Donut. Duncan Donut.”

Tinkletoes and Carp make their way across Writer Lady's front yard and on to the street.

“I'm not sure I can call him that without laughing. Does he have a nickname?”

“Sweets?”

Tinkletoes stops walking. He looks at Mr. Donut's house.

“We don't have to do this today. Appointments will be opening back up at the gun club next weekend.”

Tinkletoes looks at Writer Lady's house then looks at Carp. “I am a mercenary. A veteran of several tours of duty in the Middle East. The man who made winning the Ninja Zombie War possible. I am not going to let a 127 pound smart ass of a woman beat me. Not today. Not any day. No matter what.” He says continuing across the street to Mr. Donut's front door. Tinkletoes rings the doorbell just as Carp reaches the front door.

Nothing happens. Fifteen minutes later Carp's polite knocking has been replaced by Tinkletoes' banging on the door. Thumps rattling windows. Window boxes of flowers shaking with the vibrations.

“I'm going to look in a window. Maybe he's not home.” Carp says tiptoeing away.

Nodding Tinkletoes continues his assault on the door.

“You can stop knocking.” Carp says returning from the far side of the house. “I found Mr. Donut in the bedroom. He's sitting on the bed looking at old movies of wife and crying. There's no way he's going to talk to us today. Poor man.”

“He'll talk to me today. You're making things sound worse than they are. Let me see what's going on.” Tinkletoes says following Carp around to the back of the house. Both men keep their heads low and look into the bedroom window.

An old man lies on his bed in a fetal position watching home movies on his VCR. He is weeping uncontrollably.

Tinkletoes and Carp sink down turning and sitting with their backs against the wall.

“You weren't exaggerating. That man is in a bad way right now.” Tinkletoes admits. “He'll never answer the door much less talk to us.”

“What do you want to do?” Carp asks.

Turning around, Tinkletoes peeks into the bedroom window. “That's okay.” Tinkletoes whispers returning to his seat against the wall, “I have an idea of who he will talk to.”

Anything She Wants

“Anything you want.” Tinkletoes says.

“I can't believe he said that.” Dobby says running his paw down his face.

“Silly human.” TP's giggle can be heard throughout the room.

“Foolish, foolish man.” Carp adds.

“Anything?” Writer Lady asks again.

“Anything.” Tinkletoes verifies, looking into Writer Lady's eyes.

“Okay.” Writer Lady's eyes change a little. The wheels are turning in her mind, brain cells are working at full capacity. “What I want is...for you to go to each of my neighbors individually and get their permission to set up your little shooting range for the day.”

“Done.” Tinkletoes says.

“In writing.” Writer Lady leaves the room returning from High Command with a clipboard, legal pad and pen. She scribbles a couple of sentences on the page as well as names and addresses of the neighbors he needs permission from. “Here you go.” Writer Lady says handing Tinkletoes his supplies.

“There are a dozen houses on this list.” Tinkletoes says.

“Really?” Writer Lady asks. Taking the clipboard she scribbles again handing it back to Tinkletoes. “I added a couple more because most of your weapons are military grade and probably have greater range.”

“Twenty?”

“All twenty neighbors.” Writer Lady confirms.

“There won't be any time to shoot.”

Writer Lady's lips curve up into a sly smile.

“What if a neighbor is out of town?” Tinkletoes asks.

“They can be scratched off the list. I'm putting TP in charge of making sure my instructions are followed. He can use magic to stop you if you try to pull a fast one.” Writer Lady looks at the clock on the wall. “Will you look at the time? Eight-thirty already, it's getting late. If you get started now you might still get a couple of hours play time squeezed in tonight. You'd better hurry.” Writer Lady opens the front door for Tinkletoes and Carp. “Don't worry about the hour most of my neighbors are early risers.”

“You mean they're old.” Tinkletoes mutters. “A bunch of old farts. Why did you pick this neighborhood anyway?”

“It's quiet, which is great for writing and there is always someone looking out for the house.” Writer Lady answers pushing the two men out the door. “Have fun.” She calls cheerfully closing the door behind her.

“What just happened?” Tinkletoes asks.

TP appears in front of Tinkletoes and Carp wearing a tailored British suit and wool cap. The faerie is holding a pipe that looks like it might have belonged to Sherlock Holmes. “You have been outwitted my good man.” TP says speaking like a well cultured Englishman. “Outwitted com-plete-ly.” TP lets out a giggle and disappears in a tiny puff of smoke.

Carp glares at Tinkletoes. “You gave her carte blanche. What did you think was going to happen? Did you think that looking into her eyes and telling her she could have anything she wants would melt her into a puddle of goo, making her incapable of asking for anything?”

Thinking for a minute Tinkletoes says, “Well, yeah. It works on Mom all the time.”

“It didn't work this time did it?” Carp asks.

“I was so sure it would too. Writer Lady is a lot like my mom. Same short temper, same glare, same snarky comments.” Tinkletoes says. With a quick snap of his fingers he continues, “I'll bet it's because she doesn't have kids. That maternal instinct hasn't kicked in yet.”

“Isn't it possible that approach works with your Mom only because she gave birth to you?” Carp asks.

“No. Women love me. I can't get them to leave me alone.”

“Then why is it you never corrected the miscommunication of last winter? Why haven't you told anyone Writer Lady is not your girlfriend? Why do you always end up over here during your spare time...playing with her cat? Isn't this cramping your style? Isn't it time you got your own cat?”

Tinkletoes glares at Carp. “You know something? Ever since all that Ninja Zombie War business you've gotten real talkative. It's annoying.” Tinkletoes says walking down the stairs.

Carp follows. Before Carp can begin his trek across the front lawn Tinkletoes puts out an arm to stop him.

“There has to be a better way to do this.” Tinkletoes says.

“TP is watching. We have to do this her way.”

“The neighbors are never going to say yes.”

“Which is why she made this agreement.” Carp points out.

“Look at this list. They are all old people.”

“What's wrong with old people? Do you have a problem with them?”

“They don't have an open mind. You have to write things really big or yell just to talk to them. They always say 'no'. Even if you just want another cookie.”

“Your grandparents were tough on you?” Carp asks.

“You have no idea.” Tinkletoes admits lowering his arm.

Shaking his head Carp takes a step forward, before another step is made Tinkletoes' arm is blocking his path again.

“They're old people! This is perfect.” Tinkletoes says. “I know exactly how to get around this. We are going to wait until Writer Lady leaves the house. Then we are going start at the top of her list, go to each and every house, you knock on the door. When they answer you talk to them and try to get their signatures. While you're doing that I'll sneak into the house, take their glasses, binoculars and hearing aids. They won't be able to see or hear a thing. We can shoot all we want. There won't be single complaint.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You can't do that. They're old people.”

“If they can't see anything it won't bother them.” Tinkletoes argues.

“If they can't see anything they may fall. If they can't see anything and one of us misses they won't duck either.” Carp counters.

“Oh. I didn't think of that. Clearly the plan needs work.” Tinkletoes admits.

“Clearly.”

“What if we just took their hearing aids?”

“Not all of them are going to be hard of hearing.” Carp points out.

“Really?”

Carp shakes his head.

“Damn.”

The Men Return

“I don't know where to start.” Dobby says.

“Begin at the beginning.” Writer Lady answers.

“You were there.” Dobby says.

“Let's revisit the beginning and then you can tell me what happened after I left the house. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“It started early this morning.” Writer Lady says.

Dobby nods.

“With the knock at the door.”

“Yes. It was Tinkletoes and Carp.” Writer Lady continues.

Dobby nods.

“Dobby kitty do we have to do it like this? If I have to pry every little detail out of your furry butt this is going to take forever.”

“Patience Mom.”

“I'm patient.”

Dobby just stares at Writer Lady.

“I am!”

Dobby keeps staring.

Writer Lady thinks for a minute. Thinks for another minute. Bites her lip. Looks around the room. “Do you remember that time when... no...I guess I wasn't that patient then. What about? Okay maybe not that time either. I know I have been patient at least once.”

“I love you Mom but we don't have that kind of time.”

“Tinkletoes and Carp were at the door. They were knocking which was weird.”

 

Knock. Knock. THUMP!

“Who is it Mom?” Dobby asks following Writer Lady to the front door.

“It's Tinkletoes and Carp.” Writer Lady looks toward the bonus room. The door is closed between it and the rest of the house. “What should I do?” She asks.

“Answer it.”

“What about Carp? What if he sees...you know.”

“Relax Mom he won't. Tinkletoes has been working with him. He will never notice Mural Man.”

“Even though...he's just got the loin cloth?”

“It will be fine Mom.”

“But the mural isn't wearing many clothes.”

“It will be fine.”

“He's basically naked.” Writer Lady continues.

“He's not completely naked. It will be fine.”

The banging continues.

“Say something Mom.”

“Com-ing!” She calls out.

“Just relax and open the door.”

Writer Lady looks at Dobby nervously.

“Re-lax and open the door.”

Taking a deep breath Writer Lady says, “Maybe I should pee first.”

Dobby stares.

“This is stressful.”

“Mom...open the door.”

Writer Lady opens the door for Carp and Tinkletoes. Entering, the mercenary and the assassin in training look surprisingly clean.

“Dobby. My cat.” Tinkletoes says.

“What's up?” Dobby asks.

“How was survivalist camp?” Writer Lady asks.

Tinkletoes looks at Carp who is standing at attention, staring straight ahead. “You know. Survivally.” He answers.

“I wish I could have gone.” Dobby says.

“Dobby I told you before you're a housecat. Besides whenever someone opens a door to outside you run into the closet.”

“He's working on that. It's a little post traumatic stress.” Tinkletoes says.

“From what?”

“From before.” Dobby says.

“Before?” Writer Lady asks.

“Don't blame yourself. Those first 8 weeks were really stressful.” Tinkletoes says.

“What!”

“Sorry Writer Lady. But there is no time to talk about that now.”

Writer Lady glares at Tinkletoes.

“I'm...Carp and I are here so early...We want to ask a favor.”

“No. No. NO.”

Tinkletoes nods.

“You cannot do that here. There is no way you are doing that in my yard.”

“It's only for today and tonight. You're always busy.” Tinkletoes says.

“It's Saturday night. It's blog night. I'm at home every Saturday night and you know it.”

“That's not my fault is it.” Tinkletoes says.

Writer Lady glares.

“You wouldn't be spending your Saturday nights at home if you had listened to me, Wench.” Carp says between his teeth. “All you had to do was kiss him.”

Writer Lady fumes.

“Regardless of anything else that may or may not be happening in my life right now, I will not let you set up a shooting range in my backyard. It's loud. It's dangerous. You'll damage my sheds and it's illegal.”

“The cops are fine with it. I checked with Smelts last night. It's the Fourth of July. No one will notice. I am a professional. Carp is almost as good as I am. Your sheds are just old.”

“No.”

“No. That's it?” Tinkletoes says.

“That's it.” Writer Lady answers.

“That's your final word?”

“That is my final word.”

“I don't want to have to do this but you leave me no choice. Ninja Zombie War. You owe me.” Tinkletoes says.

“'Cuse Me? You're pulling the war card? Now?”

Tinkletoes leans against the wall crossing his ankles and then his arms with a smug grin. “Now.” He says.

“You...”

“Mom?”

Writer Lady looks down at Dobby.

“Mom why don't you let him have this one?”

She shakes her head.

“Let him have this one on the condition he can't use the Ninja Zombie War ever again.”

Writer Lady stops shaking her head and keeps listening.

"If I say "yes".   What else do I get?” She asks.

Mural Man Is In The House

“Mom? Mom? Moom!” Dobby runs through the house calling to Writer Lady. The ginger tabby looks in the bedroom, High Command making his way into the living room. “Yeow!” Dobby calls.

“In here kitty.” Writer Lady says.

“You're in the kitchen. Do you know you're in the kitchen?” Dobby asks.

“Yes kitty.”

“On purpose?” Dobby asks.

“Yes. What's wrong with me being in the kitchen?”

“Nothing. You just haven't been hanging around in here much lately.” Dobby says.

“That's probably because every time I turned around I was making those fancy cupcakes. Not for fun or because I was hungry but to pay off your debt. It kind of takes the fun out of it. Speaking of the hours I used to spend as a kitchen slave...guess what I'm doing.” Writer Lady says.

“Making um...dinner?”

“Nope.”

“Cookies? Everyone loves your cookies.”

“Wrong again kitty.”

“I don't know Mom.”

“I'm baking cupcakes. Fancy cupcakes. It seems that since I was the one who went to the Shiny Arch to the West I owe Tinkletoes more baked goods because he saved”, Writer Lady raises both hands to make the quotation gesture, “all our asses.” Lowering her hands she continues, “A debt must be paid. It doesn't matter that I didn't start the war or that I did not even send for him or that he's been gnawing at the bit for something like to happen for-e-ver.” Looking at her recipe she says, “It looks like we are starting with salted caramel cupcakes.”

“That's different.” Dobby says.

“Tinkletoes would hate for me to get bored.”

“Where is Tinkletoes?” Dobby asks.

“He took Carp to survival camp. They're hunting, fishing, not showering. You know guy stuff.”

“I'm sorry you're baking and it's not fun Mom.” Dobby says.

“It's not too bad. It gets me out of the bedroom.” Writer Lady says going back to her mixing.

“The mural is still not gone huh Mom?”

“No. House has a crush on Monitor Man now. She and TP created a spell that covers the mural most of the time. House is only supposed to be looking at it, 'WHEN I'M NOT AT HOME!' ” Writer Lady yells from the kitchen towards the bedroom. “ 'SOMEONE PULLS IT UP, GIGGLES, THEN HIDES IT AGAIN. CONSTANTLY!' ”

A strange hissing noise comes out through the baseboards of the kitchen. “Hmmmph!” “True Love” by Pink spreads throughout the house. Giggling can be heard from the bedroom. Writer Lady sighs and rolls her eyes.

“What's the music for?” Dobby asks.

“House and TP are making Monitor Man's picture dance.”

“How long have they been doing that?”

“It's been going on all day. I have to say seeing a grown man in a loin cloth shake his butt like that is just disturbing.”

“You said they weren't supposed to do it while you were here.” Dobby says.

“I was on my way to the bathroom. TP fixed it so the mural can travel to any wall in the bedroom.”

“How bad is it?”

Looking down at Dobby she says, “There was twerking...and lam-ba-da.” The music grows louder. More giggling.

“Give it a rest. PLEASE!” Writer Lady calls to the bedroom.

There is silence. For exactly one minute. The music returns even louder with more giggling.

“I just wish it would stop. What happens when House learns the truth about Monitor Man? Look at how Carp reacted. What are we going to do when she learns she can't keep him? What are we going to do when Carp sees him?”

“Find a new place to live?” Dobby asks.

“I'm serious kitty.”

“Mom...you do know you are talking about an inanimate object? She's a house. She knows the picture isn't real, she's just having fun. Even if Monitor Man did see her and like her back what could happen? He could live in House, he could talk to her sweetly possibly caress her door jambs. But that would be it. He's a man, she's a building. This isn't Monitor Man, it's a mural so technically she could keep him. This isn't about her. This is about you. I think you liked Monitor Man more than you admitted to anyone.”

“Let me explain something to you kitty. In life there are people who are unavailable. They live in different parts of the world, live different kinds of lives, they move in completely different circles. You will never know them personally. Entertainers, directors, athletes (for some people), great writers (for others) and actors. People you find interesting and know you will never meet; you kind of put them in a box away from everyone else and try not to think about them too much. They don't exist in your world. They aren't real.”

“Neither are faeries Mom.” Dobby points out.

“TP is different.”

“Monitor Man was in that box.” Dobby says.

“TP pulled him out.”

“Yes he did. When he was gone for so long I just started directing him back to his box.”

“Then the Ninja Zombie War came and...he became real.”

“He became real again. Carp was right there too. Squealing and carrying on. I got sucked in. I not only thought incredible adventures were possible but that anything was possible even Monitor Man. Although I'm a practical woman and I knew how the Monitor Man story would play out a part of me was disappointed. Now I have to put him back in the box again. And look at Carp he's having even more trouble putting things away. I don't want House to have that problem.”

“House is a house. This is a mural. There won't be a problem.” Dobby says. “Just because you were disappointed doesn't mean it will happen to House. Let's let House have her fun Mom.”

Writer Lady stops mixing, picks up the cupcake pan and starts preparing it.

“I don't know kitty.”

“Everything will work out Mom. I promise.”

Writer Lady looks down at Dobby. He is looking up at her with seriousness and confidence. Like any cat.

“On two conditions, she and the mural have to move out of my bedroom and into the bonus room. It's a long narrow room that's perfect for dancing. The mural is not Monitor Man we will not call him that. From this day on, he is to be called Mural Man. And she has to stop playing that song.”

“Thanks Mom."
"Thank you kitty.”

“Oh and Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Don't put people in boxes anymore, it's just weird.”

Writer Lady nods.

Interview With An Imposter

                                                

Writer Lady sits in the Big Writing Chair utterly and thoroughly blocked. She keeps perusing the Internet looking for something that will lead her to something else that will get those creative juices flowing. Waiting for inspiration to strike. Dobby stays away not sure if when inspiration strikes it is anything like lightning. Writer Lady sits, reads, looks at the ceiling, the walls, the floor, thinks about vacuuming-- decides not to, eats an orange and is still blocked.

“Mom!” Dobby calls sitting in the doorway which is a safe distance from Writer Lady, just in case.

“Yes kitty?”

“Are you still blocked?” Dobby asks.

Writer Lady sighs deeply and nods.

“You know if you had eaten those funky brown sticky things you would probably be okay by now.” Dobby reminds her.

“Those are prunes and that is a different kind of blockage entirely.”

“A different kind of blockage?” Dobby asks.

“Entirely.”

“It's your mind that's going isn't it?” Dobby asks.

Writer Lady turns to Dobby and frowns. “No, in this case blocked means I am creatively blocked.”

“Oh...” Dobby goes to his catnip box, rolls it over with his nose and dumps it. The box is empty.

“What are you doing?” Writer Lady asks.

“I was going to share.”

“Dobby, catnip doesn't do for me what it does for you.”

“Have you ever had any?” Dobby asks.

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

“I don't. That doesn't matter the box is empty. I just have to relax a little bit and then I'll think of something.”

Dobby leaves High Command and returns with the container of prunes.

“Dobby what are you doing?”

“Why don't we smash some of these on your head?”

Writer Lady glares.

“If you've never done it you don't know that it won't work Mom.” Dobby says.

Writer Lady continues sitting at her computer with prunes smashed into her hair.

“Is it helping?”

“No. My head is wet, sticky and I feel ridiculous.”

“You smell better?” Dobby offers. “Just keep brainstorming. You've got this.”

“I hope so kitty. I hope so.”

Stopping in the doorway of High Command, Dobby turns back to Writer Lady, “You know what you need Mom?”

“No what?”

“To interview somebody. You know just for this week. Since you're blocked.” Dobby says.

“Interviews take time. Research. Background information. Questions have to be formulated. Questions the person being interviewed hasn't been asked hundreds of times before. Most importantly you have to find a willing victim...um...participant.”

“What if your subject had never been interviewed before?”

“I don't know kitty.”

“You see him every day. So you have background information.” Dobby offers.

Writer Lady tenses a little, not sure where this is going.

“What if you interviewed Incognito?”

“Incognito?”

Dobby walks over to the three foot action figure and stands up, putting his front leg around Incognito's shoulder.

“I don't think that will work kitty.” Writer Lady puts her hand to her mouth and whispers. “He's an action figure. He doesn't really talk.”

“He doesn't talk but you just shielded your mouth from him and whispered so he couldn't hear you?”

“Yes?”

“That doesn't make sense Mom. Even for you.”

“Besides if he doesn't talk how did Tinkletoes know his name?”

“Tinkletoes made up the name. He just said Incognito told him his name so I would accept it and stop freaking out about him not having one.”

“Just a month ago he was on stage with me playing a trumpet.” Dobby points out.

“TP. Faerie magic. Duh.”

“Mom. Just try it.” Dobby says dropping to all four paws and making his way into High Command's closet; leaving Writer Lady alone to study Incognito.

Inside the darkened closet, Tinkletoes and TP are already hiding. They have a view of Writer Lady and High Command from a small monitor screen. TP is wearing a headset. The faerie is covering the mouthpiece with his hand.

“I'm telling you guys, Mom is too smart. She is not going to fall for this.” Dobby says.

“She is tense and sleepy already, she is totally going to fall for this.” Tinkletoes counters. TP nods in agreement. “You're not trying to back out of our bet now are you? You do have the support of the Faerie council Dobby. They even took away TP's powers for this prank. The only way to win this bet is if your mom falls for it.”

The three watch as Writer Lady sits and studies Incognito.

“She not only has to interview Incognito. She has to believe it enough to put it in the blog and post it to the Internet. The odds are stacked against TP and me. We haven't backed out.” Tinkletoes says.

Writer Lady turns around in her chair to face Incognito.

“Okay, she's going to make a move. Here we go guys.”
 

“Hi. Incognito.” Writer Lady says. “Could I...would you be willing...may I interview you?” she asks.

“Yes.” The clone warrior says.

“Would you like to sit down?” Writer Lady asks.

“No.” Incognito says.

“Okay. Well I'm just going to pick you up and move you over to where I can see you better.” Writer Lady says picking up Incognito and placing him near the desk. “There. That's better.”

“I know your name is Incognito and you came to live in High Command on Christmas Day but where are you from...originally?”

“I am from France.” Incognito answers in an even robotic voice.

Writer Lady shifts her eyes from the monitor back to her subject. That phrase is familiar. “I'm not sure that's right.”

“I am an alien. I am from France.” Incognito repeats.

Writer Lady checks her research. “Clone troopers were created on a planet called 'Kamino.'”

“I am from France.”

Meanwhile, in the closet. “What are you doing? Why are you talking like that?” Tinkletoes asks TP.

“TP has been studying humans much. This is more natural for her. She understands.”

“She will understand very soon that this is a load of crap. Stop it!” Tinkletoes says.

Thinking for a moment, Writer Lady asks, “Where is this France? Where is your homeland?”

“Canada. My France is in Canada.” Incognito answers.

“Where is France? What part of Canada?”

“The part that speaks French.” Incognito responds robotically.

“What is the name of the city you are from?”

“Troy!” Incognito exclaims.

“There is no Troy in Canada.” Writer Lady says. Something is off about this interview.

“I am from Troy! I look just like Brad Pitt.” Incognito says. “In Troy. Brad Pitt in Troy.”

“That sounds like an old pick up line.”

“Want to kiss me?” Incognito asks.

“No I don't. There is something off about you Incognito. Besides, Brad Pitt's not my type.”

“He isn't. You don't have a type. But in Troy Brad Pitt was yummy. You said so.”

“No I didn't.” Writer Lady argues.

“Yes you did.”

“No I didn't.”

“On Sunday, March 2^nd at 2 p.m. you said, “Watching Troy? Brad Pitt isn't my type but in that movie...he sure looks yummy.”

“Troy? What is really going on here?” Writer Lady asks.

“Nothing.”

“Really.”

“Then where are you from?”

“I am from France. Incognito, the happy clone, I come from France.”

“Incognito, the happy clone?” Writer Lady repeats studying her surroundings. Looking at the ceiling fan above her head she sees it, a small camera nestled near the blades. Next she sees a fine black wire running from the ceiling fan, along the ceiling and into the closet.

“I am from France. Want to see my underpants?”

Writer Lady rises from her chair and heads for the closet.

As she crosses the room she hears a desperate plea coming from the clone warrior, “Want to see my underpants? They are blue! One of your favorite colors.”

Writer Lady opens the door of the closet to find Tinkletoes and TP huddled together watching a small screen. Both pale at the expression on her face.

“I won! Thanks for playing guys. It looks like you two are going to be kind of busy, we can settle up later.” Dobby jumps down from his perch on a shelf and leaves the room basking in the glow of not being the one who is in trouble this time.

It's All In The Title

Writer Lady is sitting in High Command waiting for lightning to strike. Inspiration to light a fire under her butt. A joke. Any joke. Nothing is happening. Getting up she makes her way into the living room.

“Dobby? Kitty?” She calls softly looking around the room.

Curled up in the blue chair, Dobby opens one eye. Barely. Writer Lady squats down on the floor next to the chair and peers at him through the spindles. “I'm sleepy.” Dobby says stretching his front legs out.

“Me too.”

“I love you Mom.” Dobby says using his front paws to touch the end of Writer Lady's nose. “It's blog time. Go write.”

“I don't know what to say. I need help.” Writer Lady gets up and heads over to the couch. “I'm going to shut my eyes for a minute kitty. A little nap is going to make all the difference.” She lays down.

“Tinkletoes. TP.” Dobby calls. “Tinkletoes! TP!” Dobby walks around the living room in circles, his call is frenzied and loud.

The mercenary and the faerie both reach the ginger tabby at the same time.

“What's wrong?”

“It's Mom. She won't wake up.” Dobby says.

“Again?” Tinkletoes asks. “It's not the chocolate thing again is it?”

Dobby shakes his head. “It's worse. This is blog night. She hasn't written a thing.”

“When is it supposed to be up?” Tinkletoes asks.

“Two hours ago.”

The cell phone lights up and vibrates on the end table by the couch.

“Do you want me to get that?” Tinkletoes asks.

“Those are her followers. Demanding to know what's going on.” Dobby says.

“How many followers does she have?”

“Four.” Dobby says.

“Four? You're scared of four people?” Tinkletoes asks.

“They are fiercely loyal.” Dobby says.

“Follower says kitty needs to go to the pound. Where litter is cheap, dusty and will stink just as much as Dobby's poop.” TP giggles reading the latest text.

Dobby's eyes grow wide. “I don't know what to do.”

“We'll just have to give the people what they want.” Tinkletoes says.

“Tinkletoes wants to write.” TP giggles.

“No TP. We need your magic. What will fix this?” Tinkletoes says.

TP flutters over to Tinkletoes' ear and starts whispering.

“Really? She can do that without being awake?” Tinkletoes asks.

TP nods.

“Don't worry Dobby. We've got this.” Tinkletoes crosses the living room and carries Writer Lady into High Command, sitting her gently in the Big Writing Chair. He places her hands on the keyboard.

“Now what?”

“TP will enchant the keyboard to pick her thoughts up while she is sleeping and string the random components into a post. All we have to do is wait. When we get enough for the post. I will put it up on the Internet.”

Several minutes later Tinkletoes goes to the computer and looks at the word count on the word processing program. “690 words. That should be about right.” After picking up Writer Lady and putting her back on the couch, Tinkletoes settles in to put up the new post for the blog. “It's cut and pasted. Now all I need is a title. Got it. See Dobby it's all done. The day is officially saved.” Tinkletoes announces. “That was hard work. Tell your Mom to make me some muffins in the morning. I'll be by. Early.”

Writer Lady wakes from her nap happy and refreshed. She checks her phone right away confident that she had only lost an hour. “2 A.M. It's two in the morning. Oh no!” She screams running to the computer. Checking it quickly she breathes a sigh of relief. “It's okay. I must have woken up and written the blog earlier. You know you're tired when you get up in the middle of the night, write and post a blog and then forget about it.” Clicking on the link Writer Lady smiles and takes a peek at what she came up with. Her smile shrinks the longer she reads, “Oh no. No, oh no. This is not good. This is not good at all.” She turns away from the chair and breathes deeply. In and out. In and out. With each passing moment the breathing becomes more frantic. “Dobby kitty! Come here please!”

“Mom?” Dobby asks. Writer Lady is pale and breathing erratically.

“Who wrote this?” She asks.

“You did.”

She breathes faster shaking her head.

“It's kind of a long story.” Dobby says.

Writer Lady continues to hyperventilate.

“I'll tell you everything but promise me one thing.”

Writer Lady nods.

“Put your head between your knees Mom, head between your knees.”

She bends over putting her head between her knees and listens.

“Remember at 8 o'clock tonight when you laid down for quick nap?” Dobby proceeds to fill Writer Lady in on what she has missed.

“So, they hooked my sleeping body up to a computer like I was another computer and recorded any random thoughts that might make a blog.” Writer Lady says. She is out of the Hyperventilating stage and has entered the Anger stage.

“Did you read it?” She asks.

“I can't read Mom.” Dobby says.

“Did anyone read it?” She asks.

“Tinkletoes glanced at it. He came up with the title.”

“And this is where it gets interesting. The title. Do you know what the title is?”

Dobby shakes his head.

“Lonely Widow Ladies Get Sexy And Wild. What the...is that supposed to mean? What if a child reads this?”

Writer Lady looks down at Dobby. “What if a child has already read this?”

“Mom.”

“The post itself is so simple and disjointed it makes a grade school reader look like Shakespeare.”

“Mom?”

“I can't believe this is happening. This is really happening. I try to be a good person and live a good life. It's gone. Just gone.”

“Mom!  Let's check the stats. Look at the comments and see if anyone was offended.” Dobby says.

A light slowly dawns. “Of course. I may be worrying for nothing.” Writer Lady goes to the blogs stats to check things out. “I have 3000 hits tonight. You know what this means kitty.”

“Yes.”

“There are some really sick people out there.”

“Don't be so quick to judge Mom you have lots of comments. Read one.”

Clicking the comments button she reads, “Hey there. I didn't know you could...write. This was so great, it started out really exciting. Especially with the title. Then it got slower and slower. The story made no sense even for me. I starting falling asleep. Dude. I told everyone in my insomniac support group about this. We are all ready to snooze. I have a whole new respect for you. You are one Cool Cat Mom.

Catchin' Those Zzzzs.

I love you man.

Ray