View Full Version : Fajita Sunrise - Chapter Ten

Rolling Thunder
12-15-2008, 05:19 PM
More crap, different day:

Chapter 10

“…the blizzard was raging by the time the six of us arrived at the castle. Luckily, the Turks were stuck on the other side of the Carpathians until spring. Baldred, like the rest of our division, died on the trail and ...<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

“Where are we?” Ed asked.

“Don’t ask me,” Inky replied. “This isn’t my usual hunting . . . .ahhhh. . . stomping ground.

“Weren’t we chasing that Wild Turkey?” Sister Susie cheerfully asked from the back seat.

“Our favorite Lame Duck’s favorite drink?” Ed asked, morphing back into Ferret shape.

“Isn’t that Wild Goose?” Sister OFG asked.

“I’ve been in the Cabaret every day for years … and there is no liquor called ‘Wild Goose’,” Inky said.

“We were chasing that wild goose,” Sister OFG said, pointing to the roof of a not so distant shack.

“‘43’drinks Wild Turkey,” Cindy said. “. . . we’d left his body to delay the monstrous wolves that made those dire mountains their home, and . . .”

“You know ,Sister OFG,” Sister Susie said, “In this waning, smog shrouded twilight, and from this distance that looks more like a Heron than a goose.”

". . .the beasts made short work of our comrade and were on our very heels when. . .”

The car hit something and stopped. “This bites,” Shadow Ferret said.

“No, I bite, this sucks,” Inky said.

“Actually, you bite and suck,” Cray volunteered

“Oh you just had to amp it up, battery-brain. . .”Inky growled.

“Never mind that, look behind us,” Cindy said.

As one, they turned as several figures, made indistinct in the gloomy miasma, moved to block their escape.

“Get out of our way!” Sister OFG and Sister Susie said in unison. They pulled out their weapons then burst into song:

“Sisters, Sisters... You’ve never seen such trigger happy sisters When a certain drop off happened close to home Robeiae was in my killing zone.

Don’t even ask why We left from Kapchagai Without knowing where to go…. We rode a horse Into Perchorsk Wow! Look at that mountain blow. . .up

Swearing, Sharing, Every ammo belt that we are wearing. Many thugs have tried to blow us up, But no one has. Dog help the Mister, who decides to take aim at my sister And Dog bless the sister.. Who pops a cap into his . . .”

“Hey! If you’re finished with the floor show. . .”Shadow Ferret said taking aim with his Glock. “Ok, you folks out there, just back off. We’re armed to the teeth and this isn’t your fight.”

“I beg to differ,” a cultured voice said.

“I recognize that voice,” Cindy said.

“Oh noes!” Sister Susie exclaimed. “It can’t be! Not him. Not him! We are defenseless against him!”

“OMG!” Cindy exclaimed. “It’s. . .”

“Orlando Bloom?” Dawno said. She sparkled with the crazy, lighthearted sparkles that sparkly people sparkle when they’ve stepped over the edge on Phentermine.

She stepped out of the F150 Suburban Eldorado Tahoe Lincoln Humvee into the spotlight mounted between the car’s headlights. On either side of her stood Orlando Blooms holding huge, and potentially lethal sparkling eggplants. The group looked at her dumbfounded.

“Yes. I’ve been in the SSNEMR for years working on my clones and now my Bloomin’ Army is ready!”

“I’d prefer a Bloomin’ Onion™,” Ben said. “It was right before the Great War and the Outback was in the midst of the worst drought in decades. My men and I were a thousand kilometers inland from Perth and. . .”

Dawno gestured and the air was full of sparklies as dozens of Orlando Bloom clones, each with its own lethal eggplant, stepped out of the giant Dawno-mobile and quickly surrounded them.

“What’s the matter with you?” Inky yelled. Her eyes flashed red, her teeth fanged and her nails clawed. “We can take them!”

“Inky...Inky . . . you are sooo predictable. Bloom Eleven, take care of her, please.”

Inky crouched, ready to spring as an Orlando clad in only a kilt stepped out of the group.

“Sporran!” he said. Inky grinned a beatific, yet scary grin as the word unleashed a flood of memories in her brain, stopping her cold.

“I saw a witch doctor do that once,” Ben said. “it was eighteen hundred and three in the Belgian Congo. . .”

“Oh no you don’t not to our Inky!” Cray exclaimed. “Charge!!!!” He bolted at Dawno, his current arcing wildly. She stepped aside, allowing two of the Orlando clones to throw a hollow rubber eggplant over him.

“You’re grounded, Cray, nothing personal, you understand. As for the rest of you, resistance is futile. . .”

“She doesn’t look a thing like Jeri Ryan,” Ed grumbled as a clone took his gun.

The rest of the group was quickly disarmed and loaded into the Dawno-mobile which made a turn more twisted than this plot and raced away from the heron and the shack.

Quiet settled over the deserted warehouses like gallons of crude oil on unsuspecting sea gulls. The only sounds were the distant horns of boats as they sailed along the coast, the pounding of the surf on the wooden pilings, the banging of a tire iron inside the trunk of a car, and the sound of two women talking.

“Gee Serenity, it is certainly nice getting out of that Mod room.”

“It is at that, Chaos Titan. But why are we walking in such an unsavory neighborhood?”

“Would you rather walk in P&CE?”

“Dear lord, no. Wait, that sound, do you hear it?”

“Yes, Serenity I do”, Chaos Titan replied. “It sounds just like the sound I imagine Rolling Thunder would make if he were, let’s say, trapped in the trunk of that New Jaguar XF that’s idling abandoned over there,” Serenity said, her voice cheerful.

“You know, Serenity, that is exactly the sound I imagine Rolling Thunder would make if he were trapped in the trunk of the New Jaguar XF that is just sitting over there with all the doors hanging open and the flashers blinking,” Chaos Titan replied, her voice bubbling with glee. “Oh, look at the time, we better be getting back.”

“Then, let us be off!”

As the two women skipped away with their happy thoughts, a lump of encroaching darkness separated itself from the shadows and plopped into the light with the sort of liquid plop a seagull, freed from a sticky patch of unrefined crude oil, would make. It rolled, stopped, stood and shook itself, making its form less distinct as it did so.

“Don’t go back to the Cabaret, Del. They’ll just get you involved in one of their oddball capers, Del. Stay home, make love and drink Guinness with me Del,” it muttered, hopping onto the trunk of the car.

“Why don’t I ever listen?” Del said, ignoring the muffled screams and almost deafening sounds of crowbar on metal beneath him. He preened his feathers, removed enough petroleum to run a Sherman tank, and waited as the car banged and rocked under him. “Must be an earthquake,” Del mused.

“Ah, there you are,” Clockwork said as he glided in on his skateboard. He adjusted his braids, eye-patch and miniskirt, then tilted the skateboard with his sneaker.

“And here’s the car,” Del said. “But it looks like we’re too late. BenPanced got here before us. Jaycinth is going to be pissed.”

“What…what was that? I can’t hear you over this racket,”

“Yeah, terrible earthquake, Clockwork. I’m afraid I’m going to fall off the trunk of this car.”

“What did you say? This racket sounds like RT trying to beat his way out of the trunk of a car with a tire iron!” Clockwork yelled, pounding on the trunk of the car with his skateboard.

“I said it is an EARTHQUAKE. . .”


Far away in a parallel universe, Epimetheus walked over to his brother, Atlas. “Why did the chicken cross the road?” he asked, giggling.

Atlas, annoyed, as always, by his brother’s jokes, shrugged.


Inspired by events he could scarcely imagine, the ground beneath Clockwork began to ripple and roll. Startled, Del took to the air just as a lamp post, tired of its lot in life, worked free of a concrete footer and smashed onto the trunk of the car where Del had been molting. The trunk of the New Jaguar XF, tired of abuse, popped open. Rolling Thunder, tired of lying in the trunk, hopped out. Clockwork and Del, aware that something momentous had just happened, looked at RT and said in unison: “Whoa, dude, you stink!”

“I love you, too, you mindless sycophants,” Rolling Thunder said. “By the way, where’s Jaycinth?”

“I dunno,” Del said.

“Safe with Haggis, I guess,” said Clockwork.

“Poop,” RT said.

Del obliged.


“I’d like another bottle of the peppermint schnapps and a bottle of your best scotch for my friend.”

“Friend?” the bartender asked.

“Trust, me sweet cheeks,” I replied. Haggis and me, we have a routine. I tell him we need Rolling Thunder, and he spouts obscenities and leaves. I go to plan my next move, and he tries to talk me out of it. I don’t see why he gets all worked up. It isn’t as if he can die again.

The door opened and closed. I heard the nails on the floor and smelled the faint scent of bacon. I knew what was coming.

“Jay!” Haggis barked. He jumped to the bar stool, morphing to human as he did so. Haggis hates drinking scotch from a bowl.

“What do you think you’re doing?


Haggis is as cute as a button, but, alas, he’s no fairy.

“I’ve been looking all over for you and . . .what are you drinking?” Haggis picked up the bottle, read the label and answered himself. “Peppermint Schnapps! These are 750ml bottles!”

“It’s faster than tequila, and sweeter, too. Just like candy.”

“Faster? Jay. . .”

I chose that moment for one of my refreshing ‘fairy naps’. You see, we fairies have a high metabolism, so we eat a lot of sugar and take a lot of naps. I’d been going for hours and my blood sugar had reached a new low. It was either the booze or a case of soda. The choice was easy. I hate corn syrup.


“Jay? Jaycinth?. Jay. Come on. Nappy time is over.”

I woke up in the back of a year old Tahoe, with Haggis yapping and a solid Train of Thought in front of me.

“Hey, ToT, what’s up?”

“Anything I want.” Haggis grinned.

“Not you, whisker face.”

“What are you doing here? What am I doing here? Where am I?”

“I ran into AB at the Convention Center, and we decided the Sauerkraut packers are too serious so we rented this beast and were on our way to pick up. . .”

“Wait,” Haggis said, “Auntie Bug is with you? But she’s supposed to be. . .”

“I finished.”

Auntie Bug climbed into the vehicle with a tray of generic fast food coffee. I appropriated thirty packs of sugar and dumped them into my cup before adding cream and a few shots from my hip flask. “So what did you find out, AB?”

“Well, I ran into Roger Carlson. You know how he is when he hears about sauerkraut. Last I saw he was muttering about having taken a wrong turn in Albuquerque. . .”

“No. Not that, about ‘Panced?”

“Yeah, well, that’s the thing. They must have seen Roger, too. There was a jalapeņo truck unloading cases of the stuff.”

“Huh?” ToT asked. I gave her my hip flask. She drained it. One day I’m going to take lessons.

“Jalapeņos? I don’t understand. Roger uses those for breath mints,” Haggis said.

“They were also making a delivery of ‘Icy Hot’.” AB lit a cig, then, remembering it was gum, tossed it out of the window.

“Oh. Crap. That’s Mel’s secret ingredient.”

“Jaycinth, with all that sauerkraut, there’s bound to be brats.”

“That’s what he’s planning, that’s what he’s going to do. All those sauerkraut packers are sauerkraut eaters. Ben’s going to serve them up some of Mel’s food to go along with it.”

“If we don’t stop it, there will be no tomorrow, Jay,” Haggis said.

“HEAD FOR THE HILLS!!!!” ToT screeched.

Seconds later Haggis and I found ourselves on the curb watching AB and ToT careening off into the sunset.

“See, I told you we didn’t need RT.” Haggis said.

Will Atlas shrug again?

Will Haggis shrug?

Will you shrug?

I'm shrugging right now.

And I like it.

Tune in next week when we hear Laura say: "WTF?"

Ol' Fashioned Girl
12-15-2008, 05:32 PM
I got dialogue! I even got to sing! Yay! And it was my favorite tune from 'White Christmas!

All of you non-writers of this saga get to live another week.

12-15-2008, 05:38 PM

12-15-2008, 05:52 PM
*grumbles and kicks the author* Just when I thought the rest of the bad cats were going to get to do our thing...damn OB clones. :tongue

12-15-2008, 06:43 PM
sheeze, i was apprehended so easily.

12-15-2008, 06:44 PM
You are easy cray. Accept and move on :D

12-15-2008, 06:48 PM
Best. Exchange. Evah.

Far away in a parallel universe, Epimetheus walked over to his brother, Atlas. “Why did the chicken cross the road?” he asked, giggling.

Atlas, annoyed, as always, by his brother’s jokes, shrugged.

*Prometheus had no response did he? Or did the eagle eating his liver keeping him from talking? Inquiring minds want to know.*

Roger J Carlson
12-15-2008, 08:36 PM
Okay, how'd they find out I like sauerkraut so much? I say there's a mole.

12-16-2008, 05:04 AM
I don't like Peppermint Schnapps.

12-16-2008, 05:08 AM
I'm still waiting on the promised fajitas.

Beach Bunny
12-16-2008, 05:23 AM

Ol' Fashioned Girl
12-16-2008, 05:33 AM

12-16-2008, 04:20 PM
I'm still waiting on the promised fajitas.

When you're finished, we could use some service over here. I've been wanting a glass of tea and a cheese sandwich for days, and I think...OFG is sober!

The service here is terrible...terrible....