|
Chief wandered about the lakeside, looking aimless, but having deeper intentions than anyone really realized. He caught a glimpse of cyanotic blue and snapped his head around to see Quarty settling into the sand. The Captain of Police shifted on his back until he was completely comfortable, save for the sand in his shorts. He rested his hands behind his neck and shut his eyes, letting the harsh sun’s ultraviolet rays soak into his fragile skin. Damn, that felt good. Waves from a gentle breeze shyly reached for his feet, but pulled back just before they touched him. Happy day, happy happy day…
The bright red backs of his eyelids suddenly went dark, and he peeled one eye open. There was a black pony hovering over him, with absolutely no facial features whatsoever. Quarty frowned, having never seen such a pony in Quacker County before. He was wondering if Doc Lacey’s genetic experimentations were escaping again when his eyes got readjusted to the dim shadow. “Oh, hey dude,” he said, squinting up at Chief. “You look a little pale.”
“Well,” Chief said, “I’m white.”
Quarty nodded thoughtfully. “That could explain it.”
“Have you seen Nimue?” Chief asked without hesitation.
Quarty gave him a second look. “Let me think about it. No.”
The expression Chief assumed made Quarty wonder if maybe he was in a vulnerable position. Chief was, after all, a fireman.
“You want a serious answer?” Quarty asked kindly. Chief nodded. “Ok. Let me think about it. No.”
The disgruntled look on Chief’s face intensified, and he looked ready to kick Quarty square between the eyes. He managed to contain himself through discipline or luck or some divine miracle. Quarty watched his face run a resume of foul tempered emotions before finally clicking off, shutting down into nothing, as if he was turning off a TV. “Fine. Thanks anyway.”
Quarty grinned his welcome to the undeserved thanks and yelped as Chief swiftly moved away. The bright sun nearly blinded him, but, eh, he deserved it, he reasoned, and had to wait a good five or six minutes before he could see again. He sat up and scanned the beach, but caught no sight of a blazing white semi-depressed fireman. He frowned. Dammit, it had started out as such a HAPPY day!! He did see a fine variety of lovely young women in the skimpiest bikinis of the summer, though, and he forgot all about Chief’s troubles.
“Have I told you that you are beautiful?” asked Merlin of his lady-love. He sat close to Nimue, and they were touching, nearly sharing the same breath.
“Yes,” the pale blue princess answered in pure cockney British, tossing pastel pink hair out of her eyes. “Several times, actually, within the last minute or so.” She didn’t look incredibly enthusiastic.
“I just cant say it enough!” Merlin swooned, his eyes exploring every inch of her pretty face.
“Oh I see,” Nimue began thoughtfully. “So if I was ugly, you would just dump me out in the street like old sewage?”
Merlin frowned and shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “They don’t do that over here in America.”
Nimue’s eyes took a huge roll in their sockets. “Oh,” she said, “dear.”
“You have no idea what it was like,” Merlin was continuing, obviously on his own initiative, “knowing that you were out there somewhere just beyond my reach… inches from my grasp!! Hundreds of years I waited to see your shining face, in whatever form it be, human, or pony, or anything besides. I can know no greater joy!”
Nimue wasn’t listening.
“When Queen Mab had you trapped, I thought perhaps I’d die, knowing that I was so close, having caught a glimpse of your sparkling hair, and your sea-foam eyes…” he ran hooves across her wild hair.
Nimue twiddled her thumbs.
“All the magic in all the world means nothing compared to the joy I feel by merely having you here beside me, whether you listen to me or not.”
She was perceptive enough to catch that, and she grinned at her troubadour sheepishly. He smiled a little, and slowly rubbed his palms together. He held them closed and looked at her mischievously, his eyes glowing merrily. Despite her best efforts, her interest was perked. “What is it?” She felt the need to whisper, as if it was a secret that shouldn’t otherwise be shared. Slowly, glancing first at his hands and then into her eyes, he spread his palms apart. A white dove fluttered up, beating its wings against the air until it was high enough to catch the wind. Nimue jumped back, startled, and let a delighted little laugh escape her lips.
“There,” Merlin said sagely, stroking her cheek. She was more receptive to his touch this time. “That is what I like to see. A smile to make the beautiful indescribably so.”
She watched him fondly, remembering why she loved him so much. If only…
… no… it wasn’t fair to think that way….
Steamer had a very large bowl of ice cream in front of him. Slugger, a professional baseball player and renowned prosecuting attorney, sat across from Steamer, sucking coffee straight out of the pot through a very long straw. His hands were wrapped lovingly around the pot, and Steamer’s were lovingly wrapped around the ice cream bowl. Salty sat on the other side of Willy’s Bar, as far away from the two idiots as he could possibly manage, with his hands wrapped lovingly around his bottle. He shot a withering look in their direction and belched as loud as he could possibly manage. A wineglass shattered, and a baby started crying. Willy looked annoyed.
Willy’s Bar was located on the second floor of an open faced building overlooking the North Waterway. From under the rose-pink patio umbrellas, Steamer and Slugger had a delightful view of the little town. A slight breeze brought the scent of raw fish their way, but they hardly noticed. When you lived in a town full of fat little land-dwelling killer whales, you had a tendency to get used to those kinds of things. “I still don’t get why you are defending Sabrina this time,” Steamer said sadly, and took a large lick of ice cream.
“Dammit use a spoon,” Slugger snapped.
“I mean, don’t you think Salty deserves better? Don’t you think he should be able to choose what would be best for his children?”
Slugger shrugged. “Assuming he gets custody,” he smirked shrewdly, and sipped his coffee.
Steamer made an awful little face. “Well duh he’ll get custody.”
Slugger’s smug expression changed a little, because Steamer had a point. Duh… “Well,” Slugger said challengingly. “I could win her all his money!”
“But Salty doesn’t have any money,” Steamer reminded him.
Slugger’s face fell a little. Right. “Sabrina’s got all the money,” he thought out loud. “She’s the princess.” Steamer nodded in agreement, and sucked the cherry square off the top of his ice cream mountain. Slugger’s face scrunched up. “Dammit Steamer stop being disgusting! I would beat my children for acting like that!”
Steamer stared at him for a full half minute.
Slugger decided to redirect the conversation. “So you don’t think I will win, hmm?” he asked rhetorically.
“Analogy,” Steamer proposed around a mouthful of vanilla.
“Okay,” Slugger agreed warily.
“You: snowball. Courtroom: hell.”
Slugger’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah yeah smartass I get it.”
Salty let another ear-splitting belch rip, and Willy’s disco ball dropped to the floor and imploded.
Steamer frowned. “That was weird.”
“I just hope this trial is over quick,” Slugger admitted, sighing and resting his chin on his hooves. “I don’t think the Bar can take much more of it.”
Wiggy made a great defense attorney. He liked to boast that he never lost a trial in his life, but, unlike a majority of his other boasts, this one was actually true. His track record was one to be proud of, and his system was simple enough. He only sided with the party that would win. He wouldn’t defend someone who was wrong, and all those cases he sent Bridget’s way. Consequently, Bridget had NEVER won a case. Oh well.
This one was a doozy, all right, but not a loser. Salty was divorcing his wife of say three or four years in order to marry a lovely little pony named after a Buick. Skylark was a princess too, though, so Wiggy couldn’t knock his taste in women. It was amazing how the most beautiful of them always fell at the heels of the drunk smelly bastards. Life was so unfair. He sat at his desk and pondered a little, overlooking the beach. The Quacker County Police department was one floor directly above Willy’s Bar, and had an even better view. It was great for catching traffic violations, or seeing inside open windows in the middle of the night. Wiggy scratched out a few notes on his notepad, drew a picture of his wife, and drew a great big heart over her. It was sad how many divorces he’d won. Always in favor of the man, and always leaving the woman without anything to show for her years of putting up with the man. It was unjust, maybe, but he was a lawyer, and paid to abuse the system. Oooh, he thought, finding a donut in his desk drawer and eating it promptly. Donuts always made things right with the world. He sighed contentedly and scribbled a picture of Sabrina, giving her devil horns and great big buck teeth. He ordered a subpoena or two and drew Slugger as a wombat. Wiggy had some mean artistic talent.
He took a fat puff on his pipe and coughed a little. A little sleeping whale shifted at his feet and started to snore. Wiggy glanced under the table briefly, then kicked Gammy square in the
“-------yeeeOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!” the little whale shrieked, and sped from the Police Station as fast as Wiggy had seen any living creature move. Yes the case would be a tough one, but nothing that Dick Wam Attorney at Law couldn’t win. He wondered who the judge would be. Probably that idiot 4-speed, who liked to play judge by virtue of the fact that he was President and needed to feel useful in some fashion. He scratched out another subpoena and decided to compose a love poem.
Wiggy frowned and thought that he should better stick with drawing.
Queen Mab, the local villain and raspy-voiced motivational speaker, stalked about her perch on the roof of the presidential mansion, stewing in her impatience. She had waiting a long time to show Merlin up, to make him grovel at her feet and lick her toes and clean her toilet, but damn it all!! She had held the one thing Merlin valued most in her delightfully evil clutches, and she had let it slip away from her! Fair, beautiful Nimue had been her prisoner for years, and it had been a prize she had savored hanging over the wizard’s head. She kept his one true love hidden away from him, where he could never find her, and never set her free…
The time had been ripe to break him, to show him finally the he would never possess her kind of power, and so Mab brought Nimue to this tiny, back-ass Florida town. The stage was set for a glorious battle. Not only would she taunt him with his one true love, she would destroy all his friends as well. What fun that would have been!!! Torturing the innocent always made for a pleasant day.
She lost the battle though, she lost the fair Nimue…. And not even to Merlin!! Not even to that wizard brat that she had trained herself. He had crumbled just like she knew he would, drowning in his misery and tears at the thought of having her and losing her again. No. Merlin was a coward and a fool, and she would have won the battle if not for one pony!
The image of that one pony seethed in her brain like a worm. She had never known someone, human or not, with his tenacity, with his ability to inspire, and his extraordinary talent to annoy the hell out of her… that is what won him the battle and freed him Nimue. She had to get rid of them. There were only so many “Furby” impressions an evil Queen could take!
Now, however, there were worms squirming in her head, gnawing at her inner core. She had a secret, and those were things held in high regard in the hand of a sorceress. Secrets have power over men that no one yet has been able to explain, and such a power Mab valued more than the fire that swarmed at her fingertips. Mental torture she enjoyed. This would be a hell of a party.
From her perch she could see Merlin and Nimue sitting close, whispering sweet nothings or swapping recipes or telling dirty stories, Mab didn’t care which. They seemed happy though, and she hated that. She wasn’t particularly keen on having anyone in that town be happy, but Merlin’s happiness was more than she could stomach. She might’ve liked to puke over the edge of the Mansion, but everyone was out of range and there is no point to puking unless it gets on somebody, so Mab withheld the urge. Whatever. She would let him have his fun. She would let Merlin bask in the warmth of love and happiness for a while longer, since it would most certainly only be a short while.
“I am going to have some tea,” Nimue drawled, tossing her head. Her hair shimmered in the hot Florida sun. It was amazing hot it was, since it was the middle of winter. Merlin was going to melt into a little green puddle, and Nimue wanted tea!
“Iced tea?” Merlin asked.
Nimue shrugged. “Oh come on, Merle, I’m British. That’s like asking me to line dance to Achey Breaky Heart in front of the Irish Republican Army.”
Merlin looked confused, and then said: “But I’m British too.”
Nimue scoffed. “Maybe once upon a time! You were born this time in America. You don’t even pretend to speak with a British accent. You don’t even like tea.”
He only smiled at her. “But I am British in spirit.”
Nimue cooed a laugh, making chills run across his spine, and left him there alone on the beach. She made her way to Willy’s Bar, which obviously was the only local hangout and the one place that didn’t laugh hysterically at her when she tried to order tea and crumpets. She still hadn’t quite figured it out yet, but she got the idea that they knew a pony named Crumpet, and the idea of Nimue eating Crumpet amused them tremendously. She assumed her place beneath a rose pink umbrella and immediately was serviced by the little whale who owned the joint. “Morning, Willy,” Nimue greeted him.
“Eh,” he grunted, pouring her tea and setting a little plate of fat crumpets in front of her. She munched her crumpets and sipped her tea, looking out over the blinding white beach. Quarty was down there playing ball with his boys. How sweet, the princess thought, to see a father and his sons share such a healthy relationship. Quarty aimed the football precisely at Troy’s head, and the cuter version of him went tumbling through the sand.
“Bull’s eye!!” Quarty crowed. “There’s still some spice in these old arms!”
“Yeah that’s what mom tells me,” Troy muttered, tossing the ball gently to Lucky. Lucky was blue, like most boys in Quarty’s family, and had his hair cut suspiciously like Troy’s, short and sticking straight up out of his head. Lucky looked up to Troy for some reason, a thing that Quarty for the life of him just couldn’t understand. Lucky was cute, and all the little girl’s thought so, including his sisters, which had both Quarty and Royal Blue a little worried. Most were his half sisters, so that would only make it halfway freaking disgusting. Lucky was scared of girls though, especially his sisters. That had Quarty worried too. Maybe he was spending a little too much time with Troy…
Lucky passed the ball off to Mac with a fair spiral. Mac actually caught the thing, and sighed before tossing it his father. Quarty paused dramatically, letting them wonder who was next. He gave them each a scrutinizing eye, searching for weakness, fear, or inattention. Troy blinked. Then he was coughing up sand. “God dammit!!” he shrieked, and Quarty, Mac and Lucky howled with laughter.
A voice interrupted Nimue’s visual enjoyment. “Oh haaaaay it’s Nimue,” Chief grinned, pretending to be surprised to see her there. She saw straight through that and grinned back at him. He made himself comfortable in the wicker chair closest to hers and ordered a 2 liter bottle of Mountain Dew.
“Oh dear,” Nimue gasped as he spun off the lid and drank it straight from the bottle. “Will you drink the whole thing?”
Chief barred his teeth in a strange little grin. “To each his own poison,” he muttered, and took another hearty swig.
“I’ve heard it causes cancer,” Nimue said smugly.
“So does that fake sugar you put in your tea,” Chief shot back.
“Yes but I don’t consume it in quantities that are toxic to lab rats.”
Chief grinned. “Yes but Mountain Dew is made of love and fizzy juice.”
“What?”
“Love and—”
“Oh stop it,” Nimue scolded. “I heard you the first time. But now I understand why you drink so much of it.”
Chief nodded his head, and sucked a long sip. “I gotta get some lovin’ from somewhere.”
Nimue smiled sweetly and idly swirled a spoon in her tea. “Because you know it’s not coming from me.”
Chief turned great big puppy dog eyes in her direction, his hands folded over his chest. “Come on, baby, you’re killin me.”`
The princess sighed and looked off. “Oh, if only.”
The little café was filling. It was about lunchtime, and all the little ponies and whales were rapidly deminishing the number of available seats. Chief’s brother and the President of Quacker County chose a seat next to the two and ordered up a fat boiled lobster. When Willy brought it to him, it didn’t look like he really knew what to do with it.
“Good thing he didn’t order a pineapple,” Nimue whispered to Chief, shielding her mouth behind her teacup.
“Why?” Chief whispered back. “That would have been fun.” Nimue’s eyes narrowed into slits as he turned to avoid such a stare. “You gotta break it open first, 4speed,” Chief told him.
4speed frowned at the boiled little lobster pensively, and picked up a fork.
“No, use your hands,” Chief said, irked.
“Why not just bite it and see what happens?” Nimue asked.
Chief bit his lip. “Yeah, maybe you should make sure it’s not still alive before you eat it.”
4speed looked at his brother, stark horror in his eyes. “It’s still alive?!” He leaned back in his seat, his eyes wide a saucers.
“Hurry,” Chief said calmly. “Make a cross with your silverware to ward off the evil demon lobster!”
4speed let out a delightful little squeal and crossed his knife and fork at the poor little lobster, pressing back as far as he could into the pink wicker chair. Ponies were shooting odd glances at their table. Chief and Nimue watched him, fascinated.
“Ok 4speed I think he’s dead.”
The president relaxed a little in his chair, still eyeing the lobster warily. “Can I eat him now?”
“Oh,” Chief scratched his head. “Oh, yeah. He’s good and dead. You killed him good and dead. I wonder if Willy knew him.”
4speed stared at him, not sure how not react to that.
Chief leaned forward and poked the lobster with a spoon. “Yeah. Or Howie. You know how those guys have their old ocean friends. I wonder if this was one of them. Maybe his name was Bob. Bob the lobster, who came to Florida for a vacation with his little lobster wife and two little lobster children.” 4speed was looking moderately distressed. “Two little children, Maryann and Bob Junior, at the little lobster hotel right now, asking Mommy Lobster where Daddy Lobster is.”
4speed looked at his lobster. Then he ripped off the tail and took a great big bite of the white fleshy meat. Chief grimaced. “Daddy Lobster is pretty good,” 4speed informed his brother.
Nimue was laughing, and trying to hide it behind a fat little crumpet. She diverted her attention to the beach, where Quarty was still torturing his sons. Without the football, though. She wondered where that went. “You know,” Chief was saying, approaching from a new angle, “lobsters are little crustaceans.”
4speed looked as his brother, still enjoying his daddy lobster.
“They scavenge around the floor of the ocean, eating the dead carcasses and feces of other fish. Just like little cockroaches.”
Both Nimue and 4speed stared at him like he had sprouted wings and was clucking around like a chicken. He licked his palm and smugly smoothed his hair back. “Please, Chief,” Nimue said. “I really don’t want to vomit, I just had a meal.”
Chief shot forward in his chair, looking insanely interested in that. “Oh really?” he said, with a flat dead grin stretched across his face. “What was it? Fillet of Merlin? Merlin ala Nimue?”
Her eyes grew huge and instantly narrowed. “No! Ooooooh, I’m going to slap you!” she cried.
“I’m going to enjoy it,” Chief promised.
“OH!” She folded her arms across her chest and wouldn’t look at him.
“I love the weird little noises you make,” Chief grinned.
“Shut up,” she demanded, and snarled at 4speed, who was giggling like a demented little schoolgirl. “You shut up too!” 4speed started laughing harder. “Oooooooooh,” she growled again, and directed her glare across the beach. She suddenly looked interested, and Chief craned his head to see what she was seeing.
“PIP!!” Chief screamed over her shoulder. Steamer’s twin brother was walking along the beach, and his head snapped up and around at the sound of Chief’s squeal. Pip was French. He was French all the way down to the striped shirt and furry little beret, that sat there perched on his head like a skinned kitten.
“My name is NOT PIP!!!” Pip screamed back, with a thick French accent. “My name is Jean-Luc Pierre Louis le Trois!!!”
Chief glanced at Nimue and snickered. “He said ‘le trois’,” he giggled, and Nimue joined the little giggle.
“I was born in France!!” Pip continued indignantly.
“Oh,” Nimue called down to him, looking confused. “I thought you were French Canadian.”
Pip shut his eyes tight and squealed: “I AM NOT FRENCH CANADIAN!!!! I WAS BORN IN FRANCE!!! IN PAREEEEEEEEEEE!!! ON THE EIFFEL TOWER!!!!”
“The Eiffel tower, really?” Chief asked, looking amazed. “Wouldn’t you have been skewered?”
“You are challenging my honor!!” Pip shouted up at them. “So therefor I challenge you to a duel!!!”
Pip’s accent was pretty thick. Chief grinned. “We’re going to ‘do Elle?’ Oh, who’s Elle? I hope she’s purty!”
Pip glared at him. “I spit on you! P’tooowie!!” The spitball shot like a bullet through the air. Chief let a little squeal.
“Ow!” he cried, rubbing at his arm furiously. “Oh my god this stuff’s like acid.”
Nimue grabbed her napkin and helped Chief wipe the caustic French spit off his arms. “Hey Pip!” she called. “I could have sworn you mother told me she had you in Canada. Right over there in Ontario!”
“And I could have sworn that drinking British tea makes your ovaries shrivel into tiny little raisin-like things that you pass in your feces!!”
Chief and Nimue looked at each other. “How dare you?” Chief shouted grandly. “I must defend Lady Nimue’s honor!! Get up here so I can kick your ass!”
“You couldn’t kick my ass if it was physically attached to your feet!” Pip crowed.
“Yeah because then it would be too easy and I would feel sorry for you! Actually I feel sorry for you already. Never mind!!”
Pip actually looked like he was going to make his way up to the Bar. Chief stood up in his chair, squeezed his eyes shut tight and shouted: “My gay little French Canadian friend wants me to stick my foot up his ASS!!!” He completed the exhibition with a shrill, horrified scream. Tears were streaming out of Nimue’s eyes, and 4speed looked a little bluer than usual. That lobster just wasn’t going down right. Pip stopped dead in his tracks and looked like he wanted to dissolve into the sand.
“Oh Chief do sit down,” Nimue begged, still not completely in control of her composure herself. She tugged at his tail, giggling but trying to stifle it. “Oh, please….” It made her face go beet red. Chief liked that and sat to get a better view.
“Oh you are cute when you look like you’re about to catch fire,” he said into her large pink eyes, which were spilling over with very pleasant tears.
She gave him a merciless look. “I thought you were supposed to be defending my honor.”
“Oh, yeah.” He turned back to stare down at Pip, who was just standing there in the stand, trying to think of something clever and awful to say.
“Well at least the French don’t say that breast milk is unhealthy for our babies!”
Chief looked confused. Then said: “Well at least the British don’t detonate nuclear bombs in the ocean.”
“I did not do that by myself!” Pip said indignantly. Everyone within earshot turned to stare at him.
“Huh?” Chief shook his head clear and said: “That explains that fifth leg you got back there.”
“I do not have a fifth leg!”
“Sure you do. I’ve seen it, you try to hide it under your tail.”
“I DO NOT HAVE A FIFTH LEG!!” Pip shrieked.
Chief turned to Nimue. “That explains all these damn killer whales! It’s not evolution, it’s radiation!!!”
Nimue cocked her head at him. “That’s not funny, Chief.”
Chief cradled his chin in a hand and turned away, looking thoughtful. “I know. That means there could be an infinite amount of the little beasts out there!”
“Well I think they are rather cute,” Nimue said in the little fat land dwelling killer whales’ defense. As if on cue, Willy’s brother Norman pounced onto their table. A few more whales followed his lead.
“Look, now see what you’ve done?” Chief accused mildly. Gammy looked at 4speed’s lobster strangely, with just a hint of recognition, enough to get a full-fledged blush out of the president of the County. Then he promptly plucked it off 4speed’s plate and ate it.
“AAAAAAAAAA!!!” 4speed squealed.
Nimue offered a crumpet to the tiniest whale in all of Quacker County, Little Whale. No one said Shamoo was creative…. Little Whale ate the thing in one crunch and almost took Nimue’s fingers with it. Chief was amazed how she still managed to think it was unbearably cute. Norman was burying his muzzle in a fat apple pie, and Chief glanced up at him as he noisily sucked down a slice of cinnamoned apple.
“Norman,” he began. “Why do you have your tail in the potato salad?”
Everybody looked.
Norman blinked. Then replied: “I’m saving it for later.”
There was dead silence in Willy’s Bar.
“I wondered why it always tasted like fish,” Chief said finally. Relieved, everyone went back to their own business.
Salty got bored with destructive belching and meandered over their way, shooting obligatory squinty-eyed glares in Slugger’s and Steamer’s general direction. “Morning,” he greeted them, and picked up a can of yogurt off their table.
“Afternoon,” Chief replied. “How is the divorce coming along?”
“Beautifully. Divorces are always beautiful. There’s something wrong with this yogurt.”
“It’s mayonnaise,” Chief said.
“I have Wiggy doing my case,” Salty continued, still eating. “He should win.”
“Yes I hear he always wins.”
Salty snorted. He looked like he was about to topple over backwards. “Yeah that’s what he likes to tell everybody.”
Nimue decided to change the subject, considering the potential vulgarity of the one just unleashed. “So when are you and Skylark getting married?”
Before the drunken sailor could answer, his head drooped forward, and he began to snore. Nimue looked mortified.
“Oh dear!”
“It’s ok,” 4speed assured her. “He’s just sleeping.”
“He won’t fall over?” Nimue marveled. 4speed shrugged.
“Occasionally.”
Pip was still on the beach, trying his hardest to win. “At least I do not try to steal another man’s woman!!”
Chief’s face froze. Everyone in Willy’s Bar, including Willy himself who was generally apathetic to things in the Bar, stared at the pony. The silence was oppressive. Even Salty, who was fast asleep, had stopped snoring. Finally, he smiled thinly and shook it off. “At least I don’t hang out with dead French chicks,” he smirked.
“AAAAAAAAAAAA!!” Pip squealed.
Nimue looked at Chief curiously, wondering what he was really thinking. “Oh are you really trying to steal me away?” she grinned, doing her best to make light of it.
He looked at her sidelong. “Oh I don’t have to try very hard,” he grinned back at her.
She huffed. “Oh yeah?”
Chief gave a confirming little shrug.
“I don’t think you could win me over so easily!”
Chief reached back and plucked a flower out of Celeb’s hair, who was sitting at the table behind him. He offered it grandly to the British princess.
She took it with a shrewd little smile. “It’s lovely,” she deadpanned. “The flower off a man’s head.”
“Not just any man, my sweet transvestite big brother.”
“Oh that makes it so much more special.”
“Special things for a special lady.” Chief and 4speed were giggling again. Nimue rolled her eyes.
“Oh stuff a sock in it,” she muttered, tucking the flower back behind Celeb’s ear.
“I would if I could find it,” Chief snickered.
She made the cute little growling noise that Chief loved so much and stared straight ahead of her, refusing to look at Chief on one side or his idiot brother on the other.
“Nimue…” Chief cooed, trying to distract her attention.
“Shut up.”
He picked up her tea cup and swirled it wickedly. “Pass me the sugar.”
“No.”
“Oh come on baby gimme some sugar!”
She turned on him suddenly. “How about I give you three lumps?” she offered with a delightful evil glint in her eyes, and proceeded to ruthlessly punch him three times in the head.
He giggled stupidly and set her teacup down. “Ok that was worth it,” he grinned.
“AAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!” Pip continued to squeal, at the top of his little French lungs.
“Dammit Pip don’t make me come down there!” Chief screamed.
“Retract the evil you said of my Marie!” Pip demanded.
“What evil?” Nimue asked curiously down to the French nemesis. “Wasn’t Marie Antoinette killed during the Revolution? Because they all hated her?”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!”
Slugger and Steamer glanced over to where Chief and Nimue were screaming at Pip. They seemed to be having an overall delightful time at the little Frenchman’s expense. “You don’t mind that they are taking rim shots at your brother?” Slugger asked curiously.
“No,” Steamer said, and picked up his bowl. The rest of his ice cream had melted. So he decided to drink it. Slugger fought back a pretty unprofessional gag and said: “Are you sure? I could sue them if you want.”
“Why?”
Slugger stared at him. “Defacement, obviously!” As if every pink ice cream slurping pony should know that. Steamer just stared at the lawyer for a minute, his yellow eyes peering over the rim of the bowl.
“Dude,” Steamer said. “I don’t care.”
Slugger looked flustered. “But— but he’s your brother!”
“He’s French,” Steamer shrugged.
“What difference does that make? No one should discriminate against him based on his culture!”
Steamer stared at him, looking new to that philosophy. He daintily wiped his mouth and said: “Spend an hour with him and you’ll understand.”
“Fine I will!” Slugger shouted indignantly as Steamer rose to depart.
“Fine you do that,” Steamer replied without turning his back. He approached Chief’s and Nimue’s table and leaned against it to get a better view. “PIP!!” Steamer shouted. Everyone at the table watched him, curious. “I’ve got someone who’d like an HOUR of your time!!”
Pip looked quizzical. Everyone shot horrified looks in Steamer’s direction, and then every horrified look turned directly towards Slugger. The lawyer went a million shades of red or so. It was beautiful.
“OOOOOOOOOOH!!!” Pip squealed, delighted, clapping his hands and dancing about in true gay little Frenchman fashion. “We can engage in a thorough and well-detailed discussion concerning the glory of the Mother-Land!!"
Everyone looked at Slugger again, who was slinking down in his big yellow wicker chair and trying hard to be invisible.
“Go on, Slugger,” Chief encouraged. “Make us proud.”
“Oh burn in hell,” Slugger muttered, sliding out of the chair to meet the miserable fate his big mouth made for him. It was gonna be a long hour….
“I might,” Chief sighed as he turned forward in his chair. Nimue was about to respond to that when Salty’s head snapped up.
“We’re not sure yet,” he said. He found his bottle in his hand and took a swig. “I think she wants to wait for August to roll around.” Chief and Nimue stared at him with no clue what he was talking about. “I would rather get married in Georgia,” he continued, and the confused expressions vanished. “That way I can reduce the guest list to about ten without having any obvious attempts on my life.”
“Oh a wedding in Blue Ridge would be beautiful!” Nimue sighed romantically. “With the songs of the birds and the sweet mountain air!”
“And them Mountain Boys make damn good moonshine,” Salty added, which killed the romantic mood. Nimue glared at him.
“Ok I’m done,” Chief announced suddenly, and grabbed Nimue’s hand. “Let’s go!” She squealed as he dragged her off the face of the building and sent them both plummeting towards the Waterway. A seapony squealed and dashed out of the way as the two plunged into the water.
Chief resurfaced, laughing hysterically, and Nimue shot up looking not quite so pleased. The seapony looked peeved and uncoiled her tail, shooting it out like a piston. It made contact with Chief’s head with a delightful piak.
“Sorry, Lady,” Chief apologized sheepishly, rubbing his head.
“Bombs over Tokyo!!” they heard Salty roar from some ominous position above. They lunged for cover as Salty cannon-balled into the water a mere three feet behind them. All the little whales loved the idea and were diving into the Waterway like raindrops.
“Oh sweetie you are way too impulsive,” Nimue told Chief, who was treading water beside her. He grinned real big at her.
“I know. Let’s get married.”
She laughed at him.
“No, I’m serious.”
She laughed until she was hysterical. She pushed at his chest and flung tears away.
Chief was suddenly plunged underwater as a high velocity football zinged off his head. Everyone in the water turned to find the perpetrator.
“And we wonder why the water tastes bad here!” Quarty shouted from the beach. “Dammit get out of the water and come play with me!!”
Salty grabbed the football, which was floating on its own initiative toward the lake. “You want your pigskin back, Q-ball?” he shouted. Quarty raised his hands to receive it, but Salty just laughed and flung the ball high, straight into the air. The whales went nuts. The water churned with activity as all of the little whales scattered for position. Quarty lowered his hands.
“Oh you wicked-cruel bastard!” he shouted.
The ball plunged into the mess of whales with the same speed it had left Salty’s hand with, scattering a few of them into the air. The ones left squealed and dived below the surface. Everyone waited breathlessly, wondering who would emerge the winner.
“Howie!” Howie shouted from offshore. He paddled his way into the water and floated there happily, waiting patiently. As soon as Gammy victoriously emerged with the football, Howie snatched it away and zipped through the water like a speedboat.
“AAAAAAAAAA!” Gammy shrieked.
Quarty rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish, consenting grin. “I guess I’ll need another football.”
“Or we need to teach you some new reindeer games,” Chief said as he trooped out onto the sand. Nimue was ringing her tail out.
“Oh hey look,” Quarty said, looking spiteful. “There’s Nimue!”
Oh Quarty you’re asking for it,” Chief warned pleasantly. “Don’t make me uncork a bottle of whoop-ass.”
“Oh, my beautiful creature, you’re wet!” Merlin cried as he approached them on the beach. Chief smiled thinly at the sound of his voice and turned away to do something else. Merlin took Nimue’s hands in his and kissed each.
“I had to cool off after all that hot tea,” Nimue smiled.
And all that stimulating conversation,” Chief shot back across his shoulder.
Nimue made a face at him. “That too.”
“Wonderful,” Merlin said, looking like he actually thought it was wonderful. Quarty glanced from Merlin to Chief and wondered if Chief was going to bust a brain vein. “But, my sweet, I bring news.”
“Of what?”
“I must take my leave of you my lady, but for a day or so,” Merlin replied, his cheery expression fading. Chief’s ears perked at that spicy bit of news. “Young King Al and I must venture out beyond the Lake, as a part of his training. He and the sword Excaliber must be prepared to face the evils I see coming.”
Nimue squeezed his hands and leaned forward for a kiss. “Don’t stay from me too long,” she whispered at his lips.
“Oy, kissing. Come on, let’s get this over with, a’right?” Al was waiting impatiently, with a gold sword tucked neatly under his arm. Al was from Brooklyn. He had a painfully Brooklyn-esque accent to accompany his New York hair cut and street-smart personality. So imagine everyone’s surprise to learn that HE was the future king of Quacker County!! That’s a whole other story, and we won’t go into that.
“She’s a nice girl and all,” they could hear Al say as the two walked away. “But she could use a little help on her hairstyle.”
Nimue’s eyes went big as saucers and she grabbed her wet hair back, then gave a merciless sucker-punch to the back of Chief’s laughing head. They all waved farewell as the Future King and his Merlin boarded the ferry that would take them beyond Quacker County, beyond Neo-Dream Valley, into the vast human world.
“They’re going to watch dirty movies,” Quarty waved his farewells. “What do you wanna bet?”
“A whole day without Merlin’s protection?” Salty pondered cynically, and took a swig from his bottle. “How are we ever going to survive?”
“Hey now,” Nimue scolded.
Updated 09-01-99
Mab moved camp. She collected her things, including Mordred and his idiot mother Morgan le Fey, and found a new perch high above the little town of Quacker County. Interestingly enough, it was directly above the Quacker County Police Station, in the same open-faced building that housed Willy’s Bar and Doc Lacey’s Clinic. The fact that policemen lurked so close to her new home bothered her very little, considering that the whole lot of them was 2 daisies short of a flower garden. The station was run by Quarty, who never stepped foot in the joint unless they had donuts. Wiggy spent a lot of time there, but then Wiggy had a lot of pride in his job. He was Quacker County’s top detective and the best attorney in town, oddly enough. Wiggy didn’t concern Mab either. He was sitting at his desk, whistling and drawing pictures of his little wife. The queen snarled a little, hating to see any of these little ponies happy, and her eyes drifted.
Merlin and his brat king were leaving. Setting sail on a little raft made of twigs and seen off by a parade of excited little killer whales. A wicked smile bled onto the evil queen’s face. It was time for the fun to begin.
Quarty and Salty ended up back in the water. Quarty was trying to wrestle his football from Howie, who had a steel grip on the thing, and Salty was cheering Howie on.
“He had a grip like that on my bottle,” Salty remembered, watching Quarty roll through the water with the fat little whale.
Quarty let go before Howie drowned him and resurfaced for air. “How’d you finally get it back?” he asked, as Howie swam circles around him.
“A lot of butter.”
“Oh yeah?”
“And a big frying pan.”
Howie squealed. “NO!! No fry Howie!!”
“Dammit just shut up and give me back my football!” Quarty roared. Howie bobbed along the waves, staring at Quarty as if he was spontaneously changing color. Suddenly he wound back and let the football rip. It bounced dead center off Quarty’s head and landed back into the water. The rest of the whales lunged for it.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” Quarty squealed.
The seapony, well known in those parts as the Lady of the Lake, popped up by the football before the whales could reach it. They all stopped dead cold in the water, swaying on the waves, mesmerized by her intense violet eyes. She uncoiled her tail and sent the football shooting out towards land.
Chief happened to look that way, 2 seconds before it knocked his brains out. Instead, he stepped back and made a clean catch. “Thanks, Lady!” he waved. The Lady of the Lake snarled and gave him a nasty look before disappearing back beneath the waves.
4speed made his way down from Willy’s Bar to where Chief and Nimue were standing. There was something short and bluish-green tagging at his heels. “Uh, 4speed,” Chief began. “You got a tail-booger, man.”
4speed looked startled for a minute, but then realized what he meant. “Oh, that’s not a booger!” he giggled. He stepped out of the way and pushed the booger forward. Nimue’s eyes went big.
“It’s a little punk ass kid!” Chief said. The new little pony looked up at Chief with polite terror in his eyes, and grinned feebly.
“Hello.”
“He just got here a minute ago,” 4speed explained. “While you guys were doing water ballet. His name’s Ribbs.”
“Ribbs?” Chief repeated. “Like the tasty bar-B-qued meat product?”
“Yeah,” 4speed agreed. Quarty and Salty came on shore to meet the new little boy.
“He’s ugly,” Salty noted. “And he smells funny.”
“No, no, Salty,” Quarty scolded, taking his chin and directing it squarely at Ribbs. “Stop looking in the mirror.”
Salty snapped his head away and growled. “You callin’ me ugly?”
“Come on, Salt, you couldn’t tell a monkey’s ass from your mirror reflection—”
“GRAAAAAAA!” Salty roared, and pounced on his big brother. The two went rolling off through the sand.
Chief looked back at Ribbs. “Well, who do you belong to?” He looked closer, and made a little grimace that he forced into a smile. His butt-stamp was a dragon. “Lemme guess. Merlin’s your old man.”
The little boy nodded enthusiastically. Chief offered a sidelong look in Nimue’s direction.
“And who’s your mommy?” he forced through the tight smile.
Ribbs shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Chief looked squarely at Nimue, who shrugged. “Oh come on,” he told her. “You have to know.”
“Know what?” she smiled innocently, offering him big, pretty pink eyes.
Chief looked at Ribbs. “She ain’t your mom?” He cocked a thumb at Nimue. Ribbs looked.
“You’re pretty,” he smiled at her shyly, blushing a little. Nimue returned a flattered smile.
“Why, thank you.”
Chief frowned, and looked back at Ribbs. “Are you from England?”
“Does he sound like he’s from England?” Nimue snapped.
“Does Merlin sound like he’s from England?” Chief retorted.
Nimue’s hands shot to her hips. “Merlin’s not from England!” she huffed.
“Well he was originally from England, right?” Chief shot a scrutinizing eye at Ribbs. “Are you originally from England?”
“Originally?” Chief might as well have been speaking a foreign language. “Well…” Ribbs looked nervous. “I’m from New England.”
“HAH!” Chief crowed. “Close enough!”
“What the devil are you trying to prove?” Nimue was looking peeved. That look took over anything Chief had in mind to prove. He threw a sly wicked look in her direction.
“You know,” he cooed, “you’re cute when your irate…”
Nimue’s eyes went for the sky. “Oh, dear.”
“All that wild pink hair, that smooth, sea-green skin, and your eyes…” he hung off. “Your beautiful… uh…”
Nimue closed her eyes. “Yes?” she cooed.
“…Green—”
“Wrong!” her eyes popped open, flashing fire at him.
“Pink!” he corrected himself sheepishly. “Beautiful pink eyes!!”
“How are you supposed to dream about me if you don’t know what color my eyes are?” Nimue teased.
“Well I usually don’t dream about that part of your anatomy—ow! Damn!” he squealed, pleased with himself.
Ribbs looked up at the two curiously. “Are you two in love?”
“No,” Nimue replied.
“Yes,” Chief said at the same time. The two looked at each other. Ribbs looked confused.
“Do you need anything else from me right now?” Ribbs said politely, edging away for an escape. Chief’s face lit up like a bomb.
“Oooooooh,” he grinned, and Nimue grinned with him. “You shouldn’t have asked that question! Can you dance like a little Dutch boy?”
“Can you sing like a little Filipino girl?” Nimue chimed in.
Chief glanced at her. “Huh?”
|
