However, before anyone can do much more than take in the barest hint of the ambiance, Sam is stopped dead in his tracks. He has seen the face on a hundred posters since coming to Al Amarja, and has heard her on the news broadcast on AATV. There can be no doubt about it in his mind -
Monique D'Aubainne, Historic Liberator and President-for-Life of the island is approaching the group as they stand gawking just inside the door.
She strides across the floor to stop in front of Sam and the rest, poised and confident as only supremely powerful fascist dictators in charge of their very own police state can be. Up close Sam notes that the smell of stale cigarette smoke to some extent overpowers the scent of her expensive perfume, but when she speaks here can be no denying that supremely confident voice with its distinctive French lilt.
"Good afternoon," the President of Al Amarja says, "Would you like a table or a booth?"
Sam pipes in: "Hey, ain't I seen you on TV before? Anyway, no matter... Would it be possible to sit on the patio so we can keep our dog with us?"
"Certainly sir," Madam President replies. "If you will follow me, please." She turns and walks toward the patio, carrying herself with the supreme confidence of one who holds absolute power over life and death for thousands. Sam notes that she is a bit heavier in person than she appears on television.
Woofard follows along as inconspicuously as he can, staying in the middle of the group. He generally looks around, much like the others. Suddenly, he focuses his attention on Madame President. His tale stops wagging and he turns his head sidewise in the universal expression of a dog trying to figure something out.
The group is escorted out onto the patio and shown to a pleasant table. Monique D'Aubainne places three menus down.
"Your waitress will be with you in a moment," she says. "May I get you something to drink?"
Sam pipes in again. "I'll just have Coke... eh... or is it Pespi now? Dang restaurants are always changin'... Either way... give it to me jumped. A bowl of water for the dog. He's got a boo boo so maybe you should make is deep. Marda? Nige ol'buddy?"
Nigel arches one eyebrow in Sam's direction before turning to regard Ms. D'Aubainne. "May I see your wine list?" he asks.
"Um, could you tell me which of these drinks is sweetest?" Marda asks. Her recent diet of bread and water have refined her usual predilections to an aching need.
Her Exaltedness stares down at Marda with a demeanor cool enough to act as an air conditioner. "I would recommend the Shiavit - it is delicious, thirst quenching, and will almost certainly be to your liking. We have in stock cola dolore, frutto desiderio, and arancia dipendenzaso - I fear that demand has exceeded out supply of the other flavors at the moment."
"OK," Marda replies. "I'll have one of those Chia-Pets."
Turning to Sam, Madame President adds: "I regret that we serve neither of the beverages you mentioned, having recently contracted through our distributor to vend exclusively Shiavit products. I believe, however, that you will find their cola dolore to compare quite favorably with either of those products you desired."
"Dang!!! I knew it. Always changing. Money, Money, Money. Capitalist..." Visibly trying to regain his composure, he continues: "Okay, lady, give me your fancy cola with a little jump to it. Before they change it again."
"Very well," says Monique. "I will return with your drinks and the wine list shortly." She turns and walks away with stately grace and elegance, leaving behind the smell of fried food and stale cigarettes.
After no more than two minutes, a waitress appears bearing the requested drinks and the wine list (Monique seems to have become involved in seating other customers). The waitress is a rather attractive looking young woman dressed in a typical waitress uniform. Her dusky skin and dark hair suggest Indian ancestry, a fact reinforced by the red dot on her forehead.
"Good afternoon," she says, placing the drinks unerringly in front of the correct customers. "My name is Boona, and I will be your waitress this afternoon. Today's specials are polenta con la lugnega - which is a polenta dish mixed with vegetables, pancetta, and homemade luganega sausage - or pumpkin tortellini in a cream sauce. Our soups are fresh tomato and basil, or chilled cucumber and mint." She expertly hands out menus.
"I'll be back in a few minutes to take your order," she says genially.
Woofard, who has been giving the waitresses strange looks since they got seated out on the patio, looks longingly at the beer that man at the next table is drinking. He sighs as he puts his nose to the water in the bowl. He stops cold, just before lapping up a mouthful. With a whine he steps on the edge of the bowl, spilling the water. He whines as he looks at the spilled water and licks his black doggie lips. He looks at the man's beer again, and back at the people at his table.
After poring over the menu and find little she would like or even understand, she turns to Woofard and asks, "What's the matter, Ciine? Don't you like your water?"
Woofard looks at Marda as she speaks. He then sniffs the spilled water and makes that horrible hacking sound dogs make when they gack up. He then looks at the beer the man at the next table is having, and then back at Marda expectantly, and wags his tail.
After a few minutes, Boona returns. "Have you made a decision?" she asks.
Sam starts to chuckle nervously. "Hehe... hehehehe... hahahahaha... ahemmm. Teheee... I'll have the BELLY BOMBER, I mean the belly bomber... shhhh. BOMB, get it? Shhhh... Oh, and the dog wants beer, not water... HAHAHAHAHAHA. Ok? Got that, your worship? This place is crazy... WE'RE ALL CRAZY..." Helooks at Marda, Nigel, then the dog. "Hahahaha. Wooohooo."
Woofard watches Sam come apart like a house of cards in a hurricane, with a confused look. He looks at the waitress, watching her reaction. Wags his tail sheepishly and then lays down near the table's edge... somewhere the spilled water isn't. And waits to see what happens next.
After a few minutes of awkward silence, nervous laughter and some viscious stares, Sam says: "Ok... Ok... I'm better now." He sips his coke and looks rather sheepish.
Marda points at random at whatever looks remotely edible and says, "I'll have one of these."
Nigel waits for the others before ordering. "I'll have the tomato and basil soup, thank you. May I ask you something? Forgive my ignorance, but isn't it unusual for someone of your stature and obvious importance to be serving tables? In my own country, important people seldom work more than they have to, it's refreshing to see."
Boona glances as Nigel, "We of the Brahmin class have to earn a living too, you know," she says. She scribbles on a notepad. "That's a Balboa Belly Bomber, tomato and basil soup, a tuna sandwich, and a beer for the dog. What brand of beer do you want?"
Woofard looks up at this question. He looks at the one he has been eyeing at the next table, then back at the server, and wags his tail a couple of times.
"FRIES?" Sam thinks for a minute "Yes... fry, that makes sense." He looks over at the dog and over at the next table. "The dog will have whatever beer that lady is drinking at the next table." Quietly snickering to himself as if at some private joke... "So what is your speciality?" he asks, looking at the waitress. "No, I don't mean food either. It seems no one here on this Island is without some sort of special kaka mamey power or psychological problem." He glances around and finally at Nigel.
Boona stiffens slightly at Sam's comment. "I have no idea what you mean," she replies coldly, turning from the table. "I'll bring you a deep Tsing Tao for the dog. Do you want it in a bowl or in a glass?"
"Wuff," says Woofard, wagging his tail and giving his best open mouthed-tongue-lolling-dog-grin.
Sam says "DOES THE DOG HAVE HANDS? No, the Dog doesnt have hands. It doesn't take a psychic to figure that out. Just pour it into his bowl, if it isn't too much to ask."
Boona opens her mouth to reply, but remembers the concept of 'tipping' just in time and shuts it again, departing instead in the direction of the kitchen.
Finally Sam settles down a bit and pretends like nothing happened. He adopts his most auster pose and says, in a slightly nasal tone: "Pray tell Nigel. What's this secret you've been keeping from us? Do tell, ol'chap." While talking, he glances down at the dog and give it an odd look. He shakes his head and turns back to Nigel.
Woofard notices Sam looking at him, and returns the look with a friendly, open mouthed, tongue lolling gaze, and then turns to watch Nigel as he replies.
Nigel looks at Sam and does his best to put a moronic expression on his face. "Well ole pal o' mine, I'm in a shitload of trouble. These real mean fellas tried to do all sorts of bad stuff to me and it made me feel real crummy." Nigel decides that is enough of his 'Sam the buffoon' impersonation. "Now if we can get down to serious business, I'm still trying to figure out how much I can tell without alerting our former captors. Perhaps you can tell me how you met Marda while I ruminate on it..."
Sam seems discouraged that Nigel didn't continue since what he was sayin was very interesting. He is about to protest when the Prep school scholar mentions Marda.
"Marda? I met her when I got here. She attached herself
to me," Sam makes a motion kind of like a lamprey
attaching itself to a walleyed pike, "and, except for the time she
was with you, we've been together. Don't
ask me to explain that CPC thing because it is all a blur until I saw
you doing that thing in the bathroom." He grins.
Marda just shrugs at Sam's explanation. "He seemed really nice." This is all it took, apparently. Taking a couple of looks around the room, Marda presents the question of the day to her cohorts. "So how're we gonna get Teddy back?"
Nigel pauses for a moment "Marda dear, what exactly were you building in the room? And what did the bad men ask you about? Can you remember anything specific about what sort of tests they did? Did they mention any sort of special things you can do that they might be interested in?"
He turns to Sam and continues. "Do you think you can find where
we were held again? I was deliberately prevented from seeing where
it was, I don't even have any idea which way the complex is. I have
to make a run into one of the more seedy sections of town, after a quick
trip to the library. I wouldappreciate it Mr. Dart if you could 'watch
my back' as it were. I think I represent the best chance for dear
little Marda here to get her precious teddy back...."
"Hi," he says, stopping next to the group. His accent is american, Californian to be precise. "I just thought I'd drop by to help point you guys in the right direction. See, you're all kind of hung up at the moment, wondering what to do and all. You're getting caught up in a dangerous cycle - you are uncertain what to do so you don't post, and when you don't post the storyline doesn't move so there is nothing for you to respond to, which leads to even less posting. This is what we call 'bad'. The fact that one of you doesn't talk," Here he reaches down and gives Woofard an affectionate pat on the head, "doesn't help matters any, and of course Mr. Timmons rather secretive nature and, if I may say so, rather extended posting rate doesn't make matters much easier either. Still, I think you are all really good, and hate to see you bogged down like this."
He folds his arms across his chest, but almost immediately unfolds them again and starts gesturing as he talks. "There are a couple of problems that need to be resolved here - primarily the two really crusty characters, Nigel and Sam, need to establish enough of a rapport to deal with one another. Marda and Woofard are both pretty easy going, but you two need to open up a bit, if only to get the storyline moving. Now I know you both have these antisocial, unpleasant, grouchy, secretive tendencies as part of your character makeup, and I understand that you don't want to break character, but look at where its getting you - you're sitting in a restaurant going nowhere, and if I hadn't come along you would probably still be sitting here two months from now. Consider this, you two - even though you are both egotistical, barely sub-megalomaniacal fruitcakes, maybe, just maybe mind you, the two of you might be able to benefit from one another! You certainly each have talents that the other lacks. Keven's... I mean Nigel's (I always get these things confused) suggestion that Sam act as a bodyguard has considerable merit."
One of the waitresses passes by with several plates of food. The guy nimbly snags one and takes a bite from one of the sandwiches. He frowns.
"Excuse me a moment," he says to the people at the table. Turning to the waitress he says, "Take these back to the kitchen and tell Abhor to stop being so skimpy with the sandwich filling. This is a family restaurant in Sunken, not some cheap diner in Great Men." The waitress obediently heads back to the kitchen with the meal. Then man turns back to the table and shakes his head.
"You have to watch them every minute," he comments. "Anyway, my recommendation is that you finish your meal and head out, in whatever direction you choose, but that you decide on a direction! That's why I sent you here - to establish character, form some relationships with one another, and decide on a course of action. I'm not going to try to plot device you into any sort of scenario here - you get to decide where you are going now! Tossing some ideas back and forth may not be the most stimulating of events, but you all have a rare opportunity to dictate, to some extent, what direction your storyline will take. Make use of it."
He looks down at Woofard. "The beer is drugged," he says, "but it isn't my fault - Sam asked for it. Its just a mild barbiturate anyway, though at your body weight it will probably knock you for a pretty sizable loop."
He turns to Nigel. "That thing in your stomach isn't what you think it is." he says genially, but with an evil smile.
He turns to Sam. "Cheri misses you," he says.
He turns to Marda. Reaching behind him he conjures forth... Teddy! Handing it to the Rumanian waif, he comments, "Here you go. I originally thought it would be an interesting plotline to separate you from the bear for awhile, but I now realize that its too early, so I'm giving it back. Sorry for the inconvenience."
Marda leaps up with a flourish, cries out "Teddy!" and grabs the poor bear from the viselike grip of Deus Ex Machina, evincing a 2.5 on the Richter Scale when she hits the floor. She stays there not quite believing her good luck and embracing the stuffed animal with a force greater than that necessary to drive escape velocity above that of the speed of light.
"Anyway," the guy says, now speaking to everyone, "it's been fun talking to you - I don't get to do this all that often. Have fun, and go for broke! That's what the island is all about."
With that he turns and walks quickly out the door of the restaurant, whistling the tune to "Freeze Frame" as he goes.
Boona shows up with the food as everyone sits stunned. "Who had the Balboa Belly Bomber?" she asks.
Nigel watches the 'California Dude' walk away with what can only be described as bewilderment. How incisive the lad was, how illuminating...
"Sam my good man, since Marda has her little Teddy back, what say we bury the hatchet as it were and get on with things? I need to do a little snooping for the Peace Force, not my choice I assure you. I need to find out who gave me a dose of some sort of poison or other that has some very interesting effects. To do this I'll need to go into some of the seedier areas of town and I could use someone to help me out. In return, if there is anything I can do to help you out, I would be happy to. What say we do what we can to find a connection to some of the less desirable elements here in town. Any ideas?"
Woofard shakes his head to clear it, following the The California Man's dreamlike visit. As Nigel makes his proposal of action, the tawny dog sniffs his bowl of beer. And true to the stranger's warnings, there is a funky smell behind the brew, similar to that which saturated the previous bowl of water. Woofard shoots Sam a dirty look.
While the stranger talked, Sam's mouth opened a number of times as if he was about to say something. It closed again slowly and then abruptly opened again. Finally, Mr. Dart chose to sit mute while the haranguing continued. When the 'California Guy' leaves the table, Sam looks over at Nigel and says "Hey Nige, you know how much I enjoy getting little tidbits of info out of you. I think doing this little job for the Peace Force would be cool. Besides maybe we can all get some questions answered in the process. I suggest we go back to the Hotel and ask Cheri if she knows anyone or at worst if she knows where our other friends are." Sam ignores Woofard and grins. "BOMB" Pause... "is for me." Evil grin.
Nigel gives Sam a slight grin. "That would be a fine idea, if Ms. Cheri isn't too upset with me over that nasty room business. And as for aiding the Peace Force, they can bloody rot in hell for all I care, actually I'd love to see mean things happen to every one of the buggers, but they have me over a barrel so to speak, so what's a fellow to do? Shall we adjourn back to the hotel to gather what information we can?"
In the middle of her reunion celebration, Marda remembers Nigel's question. "Oh, Mr. Nigel. The Sipisi guys weren't interested in me other than to give me shots to help me get better, but that Fuzzy Mr. Mitsy said that they wanted to know about that thingy I made and maybe make me a Neutralizer, whatever that means. You think you can find out what all that means?"
Woofard growls quietly under his breath, sniffs the beer bowl again, and sneezes into it. He looks around, and stares at the beer at the next table once more. He suddenly perks up, and jumps to his feet (paws?), wincing from his recent injuries. His curly tail is thrashing wildly in excitement. He seems to be very excited, but is actually positioning himself so his tail can knock the beer bottle over. SUCCESS! Woofard easily manages to spill the beer bottle on the floor, and begins eagerly lapping it up.
"Hey!" says the patron at the nearby table (a middle-aged secretarial type) in the general direction of Sam, Nigel, and Marda, "Your dog knocked over my beer!" Hearing the crash, and the cry of outrage, waitresses begin converging from all over the restaurant. Intent on his lapping, Woofard takes a moment to notice that this beer smells funny too. Not in the same way that the other beer did, but definitely funny.
At this point, he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. His previous injury, and physical exertion, has dehydrated him to the point that once he starts drinking, he can't really stop until finished. He finally looks up, surprised at the sudden attention. Wagging his tail he moves back to his table to lie down underneath it. He puts his head down... He rolls over on his left side... he rolls over on to his right side and stretches out... He shakes his head and rolls back into the classic sphinx pose... He sits... and wanders over to where Marda is clutching her bear... He sniffs the bear... He gives Marda a schlurp... He sits down... stands up... sniffs at the food on Marda's plate, but seems uninterested... He circles the table... Sits down... fidgets a bit... stands back up... He looks towards the group at the table and gives a little impatient woof... He looks out towards the traffic passing by on the street... He looks back at the table and then wanders to the edge of the patio... he sits and watches the traffic a moment... he gets up and comes back to the table... he sits down... he lies down... fidgets some more... sits back up and says woof again... he stands -- shifting his weight from foot to foot impatiently watching the folks at the table.
Marda is brought from her Teddy-induced reverie by Woofard's schlurp and suddenly realizes what the dog is trying to say. "Tata, I think I gotta take Ciine here for a walk. Could you get me some dessert for when I get back? Thanks." She then turns to Woofard and says, "C'mon, Woofard. And heads for the door.
Sam gobbles down his Balboa Belly Buster. But, inspite of its name, it leaves him with enough room in his stomach to be thinking about dessert. OINK OINK! After spending the better part of the afternoon trying to get the waitress's attention (can you blame her?), he finally manages to flag her down and orders coffee and hot apple pie with ice cream (Mr. Dart is not familiar with the common useage of the french 'a la mode' so he doesnt say it).
"Do you want the coffee deep or jumped?" asks Boona.
Sam, looking a bit irritated at the overly professional waitress, says "You can screw with my booze but don't screw with my coffee. Just hot and black will be fine. Oh, and a hot fudge cake for the little girl."
"Yes sir," says Boona, and heads back off towards the kitchen.
"HEY!" repeats the woman at the next table. "Your damned dog spilled my beer, you stupid jerks!"
Once the waitress has her instructions and is moving off to points unknown, Mr. Dart turns to the girl next door and says "Hey lady, accidents happen. Besides that's not my dog."
While he is waiting for his high fat content coup de grace, Sam looks over at Nigel. "Hey Nige, so where's this place you're taking us to? It wouldnt happen to be Dmitri's Fix-it shop would it?"
Nigel gives the woman his best disarming smile. "My dear lady, I apologize for the animal's behaviour. Thesmall girl has become quite attatched to him and I'm afraid he's in need of some training. Please allow me to buy you a replacement for the spilled beverage?"
"Humph," replies the secretarial type. "Well, that would be fine. You should keep your dog on a leash, though."
As Nigel pacifies the snob at the next table, Sam impatiently waits for the next serving. Now that Marda is gone, I can eat her dessert. Hehe, he thinks to himself with an evil grin. Looking up at 'Stuffed shirt' Timmons, The Mad Bomber says " C'mon Nigel, hurry up the story will ya. Where do we go next?"
Nigel turns back to Sam. "Well I'm hoping you might be able to help me out there. I've got to get in touchwith some of the more seedier elements in this fair land. Do you have any ideas? I was thinking perhaps a trip to the library, or we could grab a cab and have him take us to the roughest part of town. What do you think?"
Sam looks at Nigel a little sideways and says, "Unless you've got a big can of whoop-ass hidden somewhere, I wouldnt want to go to any of those barrios. However, I know this girl at the Terminal... She might be able to help me... er, us make contact. What'cha think, Nige?"
Boona returns, placing the requested desserts, and the check, on the table. "Will there be anything else?" she asks.
Sam says "No" and waves the annoying woman away. With a look over his shoulder and a shrug he digs into Marda's dessert with earnest while taking occasional sips from his (hopefully) scalding hot coffee.
Nigel looks up at the waitress. "No my dear, I think that will
be all." Turning back to Sam: "Shall we go and see if we can gather
any information at all? And I assure you, we will be going into the most
seedy sections of town, if you don't think you can handle it..."
Marda runs behind Woofard breathlessly, cheeks flushed bright red and laughing all the way (HAHAHA). It has been a long time since she's been able to run about, and it feels just so good!
"OK Ciine, how about if we go over there?" She points to an inviting patch of greenery nearby.
With a bark that sounds almost like a laugh, Woofard takes off like a rocket in a low- to-the-ground gallop that makes the speeding dog look like torpedoes fired from the submarine USS K-9. He runs around the green area like a loony dog. He zooms about the grass until Marda gets there. He charges at her, veering off at the last second, and scampers a circle around her facing her the whole time. His tongue is lolling out of his doggie grin, and his thick curly tail is thrashing back and forth like a berserk windshield wiper.
Marda is really beginning to enjoy this. She picks up a stick and throws it in some randomly interesting direction. "Fetch, Ciine!" she cries.
Woofard stops cold. He stares at her. His tail stops wagging. He stares at her a good while. Then he looks over his shoulder to look where the stick landed on the cool grass. He looks at her again. He heaves a sigh, and saunters over to the stick. He picks it up in his mouth and holds it out for her to take again... but he pulls back just before she touches it. He offers it again, repeating the same trick. Again and again until they wind up chasing each other across the park.
EMANCIPATION PARK is a small city park in Sunken dedicated to all those brave Al Amarjans who sacrificed their lives in order to aid in the liberation of the island from the Italian Fascists during the Second World War, and who have since given their lives in nameless battlefields around the world fighting for democracy, justice, and freedom. The park is small, only a single city block, but has a few trees around the perimeter, a gazebo in the middle, and lots of grass for people to picnic on. In one corner there is a granite obelisk with the names of Al Amarjas heroic martyrs inscribed upon it. No dates or information about these individuals is given, and the astute observer will note that there is still plenty of room on the obelisk for more names.
Emancipation Park is a popular spot for people to come during good weather and picnic, or just eat their lunch. There are concerts by local musicians on weekends (and sometimes on weekdays) and an open air market every Saturday. In keeping with most of Sunken Barrio, its a pretty straight laced place, and is kept that way by two members of the Al Amarjan Peace Force who patrol it almost continuously.
Marda and Woofard frolic happily in the sun, playing those games that only children and dogs seem able to accomplish with perfect success. The day is beautiful (particularly when compared to where they have been recently), and there is much fun to be had.
After a few minutes, the pair is approached by a young girl, about Marda's age but with skin dark as ebony. She is dressed in a long, flowing robe. She watches the pair with large eyes for a few moments, then walks hesitantly up to Marda.
"Samahani. Mimi chezea wewe?"1 she asks hesitantly. She points to Woofard, then to Marda, then to herself.
Marda looked at the woman and tried to understand what she was saying. First, she didn't come up with any clue other than it had something to do with the three of them. Then she kind of figured it out, guessing what she would do under the circumstances.
First she pointed to herself and said, "Me cheama Marda," then to Woofard, "Mi Ciine cheama Woofard." Then she thought maybe she should try a more popular option. "Do you speak English?"
Woofard looks from one little girl to the other in confusion, until Marda tries English. His tail then starts wagging again, as he eagerly starts fidgeting about once more.
"Habari," says the young girl, then pointing to herself, "Ninabahati. Siwezi kusema Kiinglis. Ninaweza kusema Kiswahili! Ninasafiri."
Woofard's tail wagging slows a bit, as he stares at the new girl. He then looks towards Marda. He looks to the new girl and says "Woof." He's still acting kind of twitchy, though.
"Don't worry, Woofard (and let's give Woofard a big hand for ensuring that half the conversation in this message thread will be in English. I'm sure all of you were looking forward to exchanges in Romanian and Swahili), she's OK." Marda of course based her snap judgment on the basic six year old worldview of "us" being kids and "them" being grownups.
"Oh," she continued, bringing forward the newly returned bear. "This is Teddy. Let's play, Nina!" She made a gesture with two fingers jumping around and moving on her hand to indicate random scampering and cavorting.
Woofard says "Woof!" at the new girl, his curly tail wagging like John Williams keeping the beat for Motorhead. He runs a few yards away from the girls, spins, and lowers his front half as he barks at the girls... daring them to chase him.
Marda immediately takes the bait and starts running after Woofard. "C'mon Nina," she calls out enthusiastically, "let's catch him."
'Nina' is a bit slow to join in, but between the peer pressure exerted by Marda and the natural affinity most children have for dogs anyway, she is soon racing around the park and having a grand old time. Seeing that 'Nina' is a bit slower to respond to the challenge, Woofard maneuvers around so that the dark skinned girl is between him and Marda. He uses her for cover until she joins in the chase, or Marda crashes into her.
After many minutes of general scambling about, and lots of lawn zooming, Woofard very suddenly starts to lose a lot of steam. As his near manic energy fades, the limp on his hind leg starts to get more pronounced. He slows to the point where Marda has to almost drag him back to the cafe, Woofard's good-bye to the dark skinned girl consists of a tired schlurp, and an exhausted wag of the curly tail.
Marda and Woofard return just in time to see Sam attacking Marda's dessert with vim and vigor, prompting an indignant "HEY!" from the moppet. She quickly moves to recover whatever empty calories she can.
To Be Continued...