The Peaceful Affair: Chapter 30
“Noro,” sounded the husky voice over the phone, “McGregor and Agent are being thoroughly led astray as we speak.”
“They fell for Alice?” asked Myx.
“Fell for Alice, fell from grace, fell behind, fell flat, and fell short,” Lipps confirmed.
“I just love the fall,” said Myx affectionately, and added purposefully, “Good. We’re all set to follow at leisure. I’ll be down in a jiffy.”
The small giant and the tall dwarf had been debating for a while on the matter of the right way.
“I say it’s in the direction of the hand with the watch,” the tall dwarf defended her pet theory fervently.
“I say it’s in the direction of the other hand with the watch,” replied the small giant with fervor matching her friend’s, defending her own little pet. Seeking to crack the standstill, she stopped a passing witch, and asked, “Excuse me, lady hag, if two watchers watch two watches, which watcher watches more watchfully?”
The witch rubbed her prominent protruding chin and broomed the question aside. She then pointed to the small giant’s watch, and spoke in a harmonious witchy voice. “Watch it!” Before the two operatives had a chance to convey their gratitude, the hag was gone, leaving behind her but a puff of smoke.
“These witches have no respect for the law,” grumbled the tall dwarf. “I’m sure she knew this is a non-smoking city.”
“At least we know the right way,” said the small giant smilingly, raising her watch-laden hand and pointing it to the right.
The pair took the right path and marched untiringly for close to thirteen seconds, all the way to the adjacent building. Without stopping for so much as a pause, they entered through the regal double door, passing under a majestic sign reading Heidi’s Hiding Palace.
They were standing inside a wide corridor in the throes of a cleansing gala, its sole celebrant hard at work on the floor.
“Welcome! Welcome!” cried the princess in delight as soon as the pair had finished their entrance. “You’ll forgive me for not standing up to greet you, but I must get this floor scrubbed. It’s so dirty.”
“Hello, Princess,” said the small giant amiably. “Nice to meet you again.”
“I think you missed a spot over there,” the tall dwarf pointed out a spot over there.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” the princess expressed a mass of bountiful gratitude.
“My pleasure,” replied the tall dwarf, as she and her friend tiptoed across the corridor, taking great care not to add any unnecessary spots. The passageway ended in an imposing arch that bore beautiful handcrafted engravings, such as Romulus — The Best Pizza in Town, Ed’s Tire Shop, and Shark Ransoms — We Aim To Squeeze. The paired couple strode under the arch — and into the ballroom.
The place was awash in colors and gaiety, with scores of beautifully robed couples swirling and twirling in the dancing light. Dazzled and bedazzled the two just stood there in quiet awe.
“Don’t just stand there in quiet awe,” a strong voice approached them. “Join the party!”
The awed couple curtsied. “Hello, Prince,” said the tall dwarf.
“Oh, hello me no hellos,” said the jolly magnate, waving his hands dismissively. “Dance! Dance! By the way, have you seen the princess?”
“We just met her out in the corridor,” remarked the tall dwarf somewhat admonishingly.
“Ah,” sighed the prince, “I just can’t get Rella to forget the old days.” He paused for a moment, and then continued gaily, “Oh, well, at least the palace is spick-and-span!”
“That it is,” agreed the small giant.
“Good, good,” said the goodly prince. “Now — ”
“Dance, dance,” completed the tall dwarf.
“It’s not nice to barge into a prince’s words,” whispered the small giant in her friend’s ear.
The good prince, who had good ears, remarked jollily, “Poppycock. You may barge all you like. In fact, I’ll be only too glad to lend you the royal barge.”
“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” replied the tall dwarf somewhat ashamedly. “But as for dancing … Well, maybe another day. You see, time does not permit us to stay for long just now.”
A portly gentleman carrying a drink in one hand and a cuckoo clock in the other ambled by. “Why, of course I permit you to stay,” he said indignantly. “Since when am I in the habit of disallowing dancing?” As if to shore up this last statement, the little birdie came out of her little mansion, and sang in a little voice, “Cuckoo. Cuckoo. Cuckoo.” The timely fellow sauntered away, drinking and whirling, obviously having a good time.
“Who’s that?” asked the small giant.
“Pacific Time,” answered the prince mirthfully. “A dear, dear guest. Anyway, now you can stay!”
“No, they cannot,” sounded a resolute voice, emanating from the mouth of a tall stern man wearing a black suit, and a tie embroidered with a Union Jack pattern.
“Uh-oh,” whispered the prince, “we’re in trouble. That’s Greenwich Mean Time.”
“I do not permit them to stay here and dance,” the grim Englishman stated unequivocally. “They must depart at once. No time to frolic.”
“Can’t you lend them some time?” asked the prince wishfully.
“What’s this I hear?” retorted the man snappily. “You want this busy twosome to dance on borrowed time?”
Meekly, the prince replied, “I guess not.”
“You guess right,” praised the dour man.
The prince mumbled under his breath, “Party pooper, killjoy, spoilsport, wet blanket.”
“What’s that?” asked Mean Time harshly.
“Nothing, nothing,” replied the prince quickly. “I was just saying what a nice chap you are, pooping parties, wetting blankets, and such.”
“Good. Good. Carry on.” With that, the bleak gentleman took his leave.
“Believe me,” said the prince once Mean Time had vanished, “had he not taken his leave, I would have offered him my own.” The duo shook their heads in belief. “Alas,” continued the prince in a voice full of regret, “it seems you must now take your own leaves.” Each operative removed a small oak tree from her pocket and picked a leaf.
“Don’t feel bad,” soothed the small giant. “We’ll come back another time — perhaps mountain, or central — to bop, hop, dance, prance, boogie, and woogie.”
“Goody!” shouted the prince and jumped up, letting the gravity of the situation bring him back down.
Once royalty had landed, the tall dwarf said, “Before we depart, we’d like to recover our possession, if possible.”
“Quite possible,” announced the prince joyously, and echoed, “Quite possible. Please, follow me.”
The three left the boisterous ballroom through a large double door leading to the Royal Forest. They mounted three waiting steeds and rode in silence for several minutes, until arriving at a small clearing with neither wood nor brush. At its center stood a bed of roses with a lovely maiden asleep upon it.
“What fine engravings,” remarked the small giant, pointing to the exquisite etchings inscribed on the bedside.
“Aren’t they now?” agreed the prince, his voice full of pride and joy. “I’m particularly fond of this one,” he added, indicating a gold-lettered inscription reading Joe’s Mattresses — You’ll Sleep Like A Princess Or Your Money Back.
The tall dwarf approached the bed, but the prince swiftly grabbed her hand, saying, “Let me do this. She tends to get a bit cantankerous when roused from her nap. You have to doctor the awakening just so.” With a happy face, the bashful doc prepared to kiss the sleepy damsel on the nose, when a sneezy outburst from his own olfactory protuberance caused the maiden to wake up in a rather grumpy mood, and regard the dopey expression facing her.
“What do you want?” she asked grouchily.
Not fazed by her demeanor, the prince said pleasantly, “I’m pleased to see you’re in such a good mood, Stow Wight. Remember my friends here?” He pointed to the small giant and the tall dwarf standing behind him, who were busily counting wolves.
“I do,” replied the maiden gruffly. “They probably want their file back.”
“You’re so smart, Stow,” complimented the prince.
“Oversleeping is a highly effective intelligence booster. I dreamed that on TV,” she explained, and — reaching underneath her pillow — added cheerily, “Hey, the tooth fairy came on her tooth ferry and left me two shillings.”
“You lost a tooth?” asked the prince worriedly.
“No,” replied the maiden, “I lost two.” Seeing the puzzled look facing her, she proceeded to explain. “Have you ever considered what the tooth fairy does with all the teeth she collects?”
The prince nodded negatively, as did the small giant and the tall dwarf who had stopped tallying wolves.
“She sells them,” the roused sleeper answered her very own question. “And let me tell you, it’s quite a profitable little side business she has going there. Anyway, before going to sleep I placed an order for two wisdom teeth, to replace the two I’d lost when eating that bad apple.” She examined the inner workings of her mouth and continued, “Yup. The order has been filled to the teeth, and I received some change on top.” She clanged the two coins against each other.
“Well,” yawned the maiden, “it’s been nice chatting with you gentleman and ladies, but I’d like to resume my snooze. Wake me up in one hundred years or two.” She began moving her head in the direction of the pillow, only to stop in midair, and exclaim, “Oh, I nearly forgot. Here’s what you came for.” Stow Wight pulled a cached dossier from her pillowcase, handed it to the small giant, and adopted the horizontal position considered by most conducive to sleep. She closed her eyes, and was snoring peacefully within three seconds flat.
The ride back to the ballroom was uneventful, unless one considers an à la carte rebellion led by the royal cook to hold any importance.
“That was an excellent meal,” extolled the small giant as they entered the ballroom, satiated but full.
Evidently pleased, the prince said, “Thank you. My mother was against employing such a rebellious chef, but I stamped my foot, and that gave me a leg up on her.”
The three were standing beside the arch leading to the corridor whence they’d entered. “Thanks for everything,” said the small giant, as she and her colleague turned to leave.
“You’re most welcome,” smiled the charming prince. “And remember — you owe me a dance!”
As they passed by the scrubbing princess, they heard the prince’s voice behind them. “Rella, Rella, Rella. How many times must I say you need not occupy yourself with the floor’s cleaning.”
“Can I do the dishes, then?” came the eager reply.
The last utterance heard by the two operatives before they exited the building was the prince’s royal sigh.
“They’re coming out,” said Myx in a voice foretelling imminent action.
“Sure took their time,” commented Lipps, and stopped counting the wolves in the forest.
The two readied themselves for the trailing adventure to follow, by abandoning the headstand position in favor of a leg-stand.
The small giant and the tall dwarf stood at the exit of Heidi’s Hiding Palace and debated on what was left to do.
“I say we walk in the direction of the hand with the watch,” declared the tall dwarf positively.
Being in no mood for another directional debate, the small giant stopped a passing puff of smoke, and asked for her opinion. Before the puff could gust in reply, an itinerant smoke detector marched up to her and announced, “You’re under arrest.”
“A rest? How lovely!” replied the puff of smoke and blew into bed.
The detector turned to the small giant. “Now that we’ve cleared the air, allow me to point you in the left direction,” he said, motioning the desired course with his right ear.
The pair took the left path and strode indefatigably for close to fourteen seconds, all the way to the adjacent park-shaped building. Inside, at the center of the park, alongside a small ocean-shaped pond, sat several birds playing checkers.
“Careful,” whispered Myx, who had taken cover behind a rose considered tall for her age, “we don’t want them to spot us. That’s the essence of trailing, you know.”
“I thought the essence of trailing was pursuit,” confided Lipps from her veiled position in the harem.
Myx shook his head. “No. Pursuit — especially when hot — is the candescence of trailing. Invisibility is the essence.”
“I see,” replied the shrouded Lipps.
“I don’t,” said Myx, as he looked around him. “Where are you?”
Visibly, Lipps had grasped the essence of trailing.
“Hello,” the small giant greeted the ducks in a gentle voice, once she and her colleague had marched up to them. The featherheads paid them no attention and continued their game of checkers.
“Let me handle this,” requested the tall dwarf, granted her own request, and proceeded to implement the grant. “Checkers is for chicken,” she said calmly.
The effect was mind-boggling. It was as if someone had accosted a flock of ducks playing checkers and said, “Checkers is for chicken.” There rose a deafening racket of ruffled feathers, as the ducks all joined in a roar of indignation. “Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack!”
“My, what a limited vocabulary,” remarked the small giant.
“How perceptive of you!” cried the tall dwarf. “These are the drakes.” She pointed to the opposite side of the pond. “The ducks are over there.” The two left the quacks and walked over to the females of the species.
“Good evening,” said the small giant affably, once they’d crossed to the other side of the pond. A serious-looking duck with a luxurious blond mane welcomed the two by reciting from John Milton’s Paradise Lost, proving that the rumors concerning ladies of flaxen hair were not to be extended to ducks:
and sweet the coming on
Of grateful evening mild, then silent night
With this her solemn bird and this fair moon,
And these the gems of heav’n, her starry train …
“Hi,” said the tall dwarf curtly in an attempt to eschew a lengthy poetic reply.
“Good wishes,” came the response from the lyrical duck. “I hope the drakes did not bother you excessively.”
“Men will be men,” replied the small giant philosophically.
“They’re all the same,” added the tall dwarf, shrugging her shoulders.
“A remarkable observation,” congratulated the laudatory duck. “Few people are aware of this perceptive piece of intelligence, despite its being right before their bills, in our very own Declaration of Independence: All men are created equal”. She flapped her wings, and added, “Thank goodness for womenfolk.”
“Thank goodness, indeed,” agreed the tall dwarf. “Let me explain the reason for this visit.”
The duck assumed a brooding position and prompted, “Don’t hurry. We have all the time in the word.”
Out of nowhere in particular Greenwich Mean Time appeared, and exercised his stern voice. “That, my dear, is quite incorrect. You do not have all the time in the word. In fact, you do not even have all the time in the letter.” And he vanished back into nowhere in particular.
The small giant quickly handed the dossier to the duck, and pronounced rapidly, “Please guard this in secret safekeeping.” The duck clutched the tendered item, and the twosome made a hasty retreat out of the building, past the clamorous drakes who were quietly marking time.
“Hello Nancy,” said Myx brightly, he and Lipps having come out of hiding once the trailed pair had recovered their tracks.
“Noro,” cried the duck jubilantly. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“The surprise is mutual. Have you met Apoka?” asked Myx by way of introduction.
“Don’t believe I have. I’m Nancy. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” The duck extended her right wing, and shook Lipps’s hand.
“May I meander straight to the point?” inquired Myx politely.
“Of course,” authorized Nancy.
“A direct course it is, then. May I see the dossier you were just handed?”
“You most certainly may,” said Nancy, and winged the document to Myx forthwith. The detective commenced an intense study of the article.
“Hon, did they not ask you to keep it a secret?” posed Lipps questioningly.
Nancy fluttered her wings, and said, “They did indeed. You’re a very smart lady. I’m not surprised at all Myx keeps you on the payroll.”
“But then — ” began Lipps.
“Forgive me for interrupting so rudely,” beseeched Nancy, “but do you know what John Dryden had to say about secrets?”
“No, sweetie pie. What?”
Waxing lyrical, Nancy recited:
For secrets are edged tools,
And must be kept from children and from fools.
“Of course,” continued the citing duck, “Dryden forgot to mention that secrets should be kept from us too. I mean,” she winked playfully, “since when can a girl keep a secret?”
“So true,” interjected Myx, and handed the dossier back to its baring custodian. “I’m all done here. Thank you very much, Nancy. This is a very interesting document.”
By way of clarification, Lipps supplied Nancy with an optional simultaneous translation of Myx’s last statement. “Hon, when Noro says ‘interesting’ it often means the matter may become fascinating.”
Myx just smiled magnanimously as he and Lipps bade the feathered lady farewell and marched into the sunset.
