A Texan Comes To Visit

[lake_wrangler]

It used to be that one could take solace in the fact that castles do not move... until part of one castle's consciousness was found in Paris, that is...

Which should have surprised no one. Agatha is, after all, The Heterodyne, so naturally the castle would have to attend to her closely.

Still, give credit where credit is due. It was a little surprising, given that it did not follow her there, but rather went there ahead of her, one piece at a time, without knowing she was headed there, or knowing who she was, or that she even existed, for that matter. It was no small kindness of Agatha to liberate the castle from its confines in Paris.

[Just Old Al]

It could even have implanted a portion of its mechanism and sentience in her brain, to stay close to her... the "Castle's in the Heir" principle.

(Places a complete Lego clank-building kit into the Pun Jar)

SARGE! BOOTS AND SADDLES! LOCK AND LOAD!

Get the ketamine rounds - I don't CARE how many it takes....

[Sgt. Howard]

It could even have implanted a portion of its mechanism and sentience in her brain, to stay close to her... the "Castle's in the Heir" principle.

(Places a complete Lego clank-building kit into the Pun Jar)

SARGE! BOOTS AND SADDLES! LOCK AND LOAD!

Get the ketamine rounds - I don't CARE how many it takes....

"... ought t' be a LAW, dammit!... right... M-78 assault doper- check... three belts of ketamine darts, 250 rounds each- check... big hammer- check... toilet plunger- check... rubber chicken- check... four 'whoopee cushions'- check... cheap harmonica- check... I'M ON IT!!!"

[Just Old Al]

If I've tol you once I've told you a dozen times - A CASE OF RUBBER CHICKENS.

Toss those out and he'll have an audience, so he'll stand still long enough to trank his arse.

If he looks to move, toss in the harmonica and that'll keep him occupied for at least 15 minutes.

[Dave]

Jeez, what a tough audience!

[lake_wrangler]

Jeez, what a tough audience!

Perhaps, but seeing as this is a public forum, they have just lost the element of surprise...

So as long as you can quickly build up an immunity to the items mentioned, you should be fine.

Of course, this post being equally public, they will know you are on to them. So they may decide to artificially change the elements needed to take you down, forcing you to adapt to those, when they never planned to use them in the first place. And then they can watch you make a fool of yourself as you needlessly build up an immunity to something you never should have needed to build an immunity to in the first place.

Kind of like that episode of M.A.S.H., where the known practical joker (I have only watched a few episodes, so I don't even know who that it, though I have my suspicions) promised to take his revenge on two others (for whatever reason), then spent the whole episode apparently doing nothing towards that goal, but watching the two intended victims be so paranoid about it, that they made their own lives miserable in the process.

Of course, this being a public post, they'll know that you know that they know...

Of course, this being a public post, you'll know that they know that you know that they know that you know...

Of course, this being a public post, they'll know that you know that they know that you know that they know that you know that they know...

Well, you get the picture...

[Dave]

Well, you get the picture...

Yes, I'm afraid so.

Now, where the hell did I put my iocaine powder?

[Just Old Al]

Well, you get the picture...

Yes, I'm afraid so.

Now, where the hell did I put my iocaine powder?

Iocaine powder doesn't work as an immunizing agent against ketamine....

SARGE! OVER HERE!

[lake_wrangler]

Well, you get the picture...

Yes, I'm afraid so.

Now, where the hell did I put my iocaine powder?

Iocaine powder doesn't work as an immunizing agent against ketamine....

SARGE! OVER HERE!

Never mind him, Dave. One should never underestimate the value and benefits of building an immunity to iocaine powder.

After all, one never knows when one will end up facing a Sicilian, with death on the line...

[Hansontoons]

The easiest and most certain way to distract a Texan is to bring another Texan into the mix. They will quickly forget everything else as they buddy up and wax poetically about their magnificent state. Just keep some Lone Star beer and nachos handy and they'll be happy. Just don't bring up Alaska.

[jwhouk]

I wonder if the Fae speak Lojban?

Cavin: "We speak a lot of languages. Comes easy for us."

[Just Old Al]

Dinky is in here for Ialin - the scene of the Tree-Whacking...Thanks, DInk!

Chapter 7 – Breakfast And Confrontation

The next morning, breakfast was a bit strained.

Instead of eating in the kitchen as was usual when alone, Daisy had had the dining room set for breakfast. Al as was his usual, had been up before dawn and enjoyed the sunrise with his first mug of coffee, but had held off on breakfast knowing there were guests in the house.

Shortly before eight Smokey wandered down to breakfast, soon followed by his uncle. Both were freshly cleaned up and ready for their day, and both in comfortable plaids and jeans. Briggs of course wore his boots, and the clicking of his heels on the flagstone of the main entry was a pleasing counterpoint to the quiet house.

Al was sitting at the table when the pair arrived and greeted them cordially.

"Briggs - how did you sleep? Well, I hope."

"Slept lahk a babe in arms, Al. It's so peaceful here that ah thought ah was home on mah spread. Only noise was the wind in the trees - and that was soothin'."

Smokey, on the other hand, looked somewhat the worse for wear. The dark smudges under his eyes revealed the lack of rest he'd gotten. Al felt sorry for him, and regretted his kindness in offering Briggs hospitality at the cost of his engineers' peace of mind.

"Please - help yourself to coffee or tea as suits you." Al said, pointing to the sideboard which had been arrayed with thermal pots, cups and condiments.

Coffee and tea in hand, they were soon joined by Daisy, and moments later Rosalita came out.

"Señors, Señora - what would you like for breakfast? We have just about anything you might want, though waffles will take a while if I make them from scratch."

Al pointed to Briggs and asked "What's your pleasure, sir? There is little this fine lady can't produce, and it's all ambrosial."

"Well, ma'am, if it's not too much trouble any chance ah could get some griddlecakes an' bacon?"

"Certainly, Señor - what kind of bacon would you like? We have American bacon and the English bacon that Señor Al likes."

"Waaaal now, that does sound temptin'. Kin ah get a little of each - sounds good!"

"Certainly. Señor Smokey - griddlecakes as well?"

"Yes, ma'am - please. American bacon for me please."

"No problem. Señora Daisy?"

"If you're making griddlecakes I'll have some as well, no meat please."

"Señor Al - the usual?"

"Please, dear. English bacon for me, please."

WIth that, Rosalita whirled off, and soon the delicious smells of cooking bacon were wafting through the air.

While they waited for their breakfast, Briggs and Daisy talked - he had questions about the estate, being a landsman, and Daisy was happy to answer.

As they chatted, Al studied their guest, with the full analytical powers of the Sergeant Major and his interrogation skills in play. There was suspicion there, powerfully present in his body langage - he certainly had questions over and above the ones he was asking his hostess. There was also reluctance to ask, and some subtle pain in how he regarded his nephew. Their unresolved business was going to be interesting, and Al expected that was going to get resolved here shortly.

How they were going to resolve the other suspicions, Al had no idea at present. He was tempted to bring in MIB and be done with it, but his natural reluctance to meddle with anyone's life made him stay his hand.

Coffees replenished, Rosalita bustled out with a tray. Briggs received his griddlecakes, as did Smokey and Daisy. Before Al she laid a platter contaiing an English fryup, down to the baked beans she kept for him.

Smokey and Briggs goggled at the sheer weight of food presented - eggs, sausage, bacon, toast and beans made for impressive plate.

"Damn, Al - yew gonna eat alla that?" Briggs asked, obviously overawed at the sight.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day - one must stoke the boilers properly!" Al said, as he forked open a runny egg and dipped his toast in it.

"Every meal's the most important to you..." Daisy muttered under her breath.

"What was that, dear?" Al asked, knowing quite well what she'd said but still playing the game.

"Oh, NOTHING, dear...enjoy your breakfast!" She smiled sweetly, and both of them laughed at the play.

After breakfast and coffee, Briggs nudged Smokey. "Feel like a walk afore we head off ta Al's shop, nephew?"

Smokey knew what this was going to be - the talk he'd been dreading.

WIth that said, the men drained their coffee and with a nod to their hosts went out through the kitchen to the back paddock and to the trails. Walking, they happened upon the memory garden, all abloom with the roses of the borders and the canopy.

"Damn. This is beautiful. How long yew say that Al and his missus been married?"

"Leetle over two years. Whay?"

"How the hail they get this kinda growth in two years? They got one heluva gardener."

If you only knew, Smokey thought to himself. You had dinner with her last night, and never suspected a thing.

"Whut the?..." Briggs exclaimed as he saw the intricate benches, raised from the stumps of trees. Shaking his head, he chose a large bench, sat, and waved to the other side. Resignedly, Smokey sat beside him, mentally girding his loins for the fight.

"Naow nephew, ah gotta few things ta say - and I am not gonna appreciate it if yew interrupt me. Y'all 'll get ta say yer piece when ah'm done, and welcome to."

Smokey nodded and held his peace. This was not going to be a pleasant discussion no matter what, and getting hot under the collar right off was not going to do anyone any good.

"Say yer piece. I won't interrupt."

Briggs began.

"Naow, yew and ah didn't see eye to eye when yew left Austin last. Lots o' things got said that maybe shouldn't have, on both sides. Yer ant and ah spent a lotta time thinkin' about it then and since - and she's why ah'm up here.

When yew left, we pushed yew hard ta stay. We were wrong. Flat out and ain't gonna mince words - we were wrong."

Wait - what? What the hell did he say? Smokey's mind was awhirl. All the carefully thought out arguments, resolutons and steeling he'd done for the expeced argument fell away.

Briggs continued, his accent fading as what he had to say became harder.

"Yer ant and I were really angry when yew left - I gotta figure yew know that. Stratton Drilling could'a used you as an executive. We never understood why yew came back here to AHI, and back up North fer any reason.

After a long time, and us not hearing from yew, we kinda thought about it.

We realized that yew had a life up here - yew and yer wife. Friends, connections, a home 'n all. Why would ya wanta give that up? Movin' back down with us you'd 'a had a job and kin, but you'd 'a left all this behind.

Whut I'm tryin' ta say here is that we're sorry - and we want yew to come visit when yew can. No push, no shove, no hassle- just come home when yew want to. No more."

With that, Briggs fell silent. He and Smokey stared at each other, one thinking furiously, and the other afraid of the response he was about to receive.

With that, Smokey stood, the expression on his face neutral. Briggs looked up at him, fearful that his response was rejection.

"Stand up, Uncle."

Wary and fearful, Briggs stood - only to be enveloped in a fierce hug by his nephew. Joyfully, he returned the hug, the tension draining from both of their bodies as the apology was gladly accepted and the void closed after so many, many years.

After a timeless interval, they separated, each looking at the other anew.

"Thank yew, Uncle...it's been too damn long."

"Yes, indeed, boy. It's been too damn long."

WIth that, they began to walk again, talking of inconsequentials for a moment or two as they left the garden and found a trail leading away from the house. As the moment calmed, Briggs turned to his nephew and said "Ah'm still happy ah came up - got to ask yew a question."

"What in hayll is goin' on here, boy? In the time ah been here ah have seen more strange thangs then in ten years at home.

First off the bat - Al. There is sumthin' 'bout that man that just makes me wonder. Ah've seen many a man hide a secret but he's the worst at it ah've ever seen! Damnit, why would he'a invited me here if he didn't want me?"

Not far away, Ialin had heard enough. Well, her friends were all chattering away about the bullying way Smokeys kin was talking...and all at once.

Gliding through the forest with ground-eating strides, she paced and pondered, irritated, then got an impish grin. Any that knew the Dryad, knew also it rarely bodes well for whomever she had interest in.

As she walked through the forest headed toward the pair, her form changed to the one of the previous day, but with a soft wine-burgundy shirt, brown trousers, long brown coat, and ever present boots. Her hair was pulled back in twin pigtails, with Safety Goggles on her head and a clipboard in hand.

It's Playtime! she thought.

Briggs continued, his agitation growing by the second.

"His wife's just lahk him - every time a mouse farted she jumped. Nervous as hell, both of 'em! Damn good lookin' woman but there is just somethin' about 'er...

An' there's that damn creepy butler o'theirs. Masterin' and mistressin' and milordin' - who calls anybody 'Milord' nowadays? It's just creepy, it is!

An' then there's that scientist - she's gorgeous but there's somethin’...out 'a this world about 'er. She just don't seem real - too perfect, too cool. There's somethin' goin' on there too!"

Briggs turned to Smokey and they stopped on the path. His manner becme earnest, as if he were about to say something he knew the other would not accept.

"Leslie, ah swear there's other craziness. We were sittin' yesterday, havin' a beer - this was before yew got here - and Al looked out the window, and he made some kinda remark about 'Miss Atsali' to that butler o'his - that's his granddaughter and whut kinda name is that? They looked out the window and I did too - an' I swear on a stack o' Bibles I saw a woman FLYIN'! She was wearin' a jumpsuit and boots ta match, but she had a ponytail...and wings.

Ah damn near jumped outa my skin, but then I made some kinda remark about 'damn big buzzards' and both o' them relaxed. There was somethin' goin' on there!"

Head lowered, furiously scribbling notes in shorthand, she barreled straight into the back of Briggs, knocking him arse over teakettle.

"Oh pardon! I'm just a bundle of clumsy today! I'm so sorry! I had no clue anyone was here. I'll go collect data elsewhere so you can finish up."

Picking himself up off the ground, Briggs turned to Ialin, pointing and red-faced. "See! I start talkin' 'bout whut ah saw and one of 'em shows up! NOW what d'yew think of that!

We need ta go, boy, and go now! Ah'll send yew later ta get Bessie, but we gotta go NOW!"

As Briggs turned to go, his boot caught in a crooked treeroot. Time seemed to slow as he rushed forward into the tree, knocking himself silly with the impact. As the echoes of the THUD faded, he slid slowly down the trunk, to come to rest in a soft pile of leaf debris at the base.

Winking at Smokey, she said aloud, "Oh Lord. Let's get him back to the house. I'm so sorry, Smokey."

"Whut the hayll did'ya do thayt for?" Smokey looked at his uncle's prone form on the forest floor.

Ialin giggled. “Well, he’s not yelling at you anymore, is he?”

“Ah guess not. Let’s git him in the house afore he wakes up.”

[Just Old Al]

AN: The beginning of this is courtesy of Glytch...thanks!

Chapter 8 – Crisis and Confrontation

*Beedledeedlebeedledeedlebeedledeedle*

Dr. North looked at his phone (and once again felt the slight pang of odd homesickness for his pager) and heaved a heavy sigh.

"What is it, doc?"

"Just got a call from Maple Plain. I swear, that group of people get into more mischief than the Marauders and the Weasley Twins combined."

"Oh, dear... Not Glytch again, I hope? Last report I read on him, he was actually doing ok... Poor kid doesn't need to go through hell again."

"Nooo... Not him. Some damned mundane with keen eyes."

"Oh... Oh my. If this keeps up MIB is gonna have to make the whole place a Mundane Exclusion Zone."

"God, I hope not." North sighed again. "Get the keys to the truck and call Pratt and McBride, it's gonna be a house call."

When Ialin and Smokey brought the unconscious Briggs into the house, Al smothered a muttered curse – and then swung into action.

He took out his phone, said “Sterling”, and waited.

In her studio at home, Sterling's phone began to purr with Tina Turner's seductive voice. Startled, she dropped the charcoal stick she was using, dusted her hands and pressed Accept on the screen with a Morgan cavalry mount on it.

“Warhorse – what’s up?”

“Scry me and get here – got an injured and unconscious mundane who needs a heal – and needs to be kept down for the moment.“

“How bad’s the injury?”

“He thumped a tree hard enough to put himself out. I doubt he’s badly injured, but there’s a lot here that needs him to stay out for the moment.”

“Understood. On the way.”

By this time, Smokey and Ialin had gotten Briggs to his room, boots off and stretched him out on the bed. The welt on his the top of his head was beginning to bruise, and he presently showed little inclination to awaken.

Acting like one used to triaging battle injuries, Al dug out his tactical flashlight and set it to low power, then lifted Briggs’ eyelids and checked his pupillary reaction. Satisfied there was no severe concussion, he lowered his eyelids.

Sterling walked in, her bag over her shoulder. “Damn, Warhorse – what’s going on? Not like you to push the panic button on a mundane…oh, hello, Smokey…oh…he’s related to you isn’t he?” Sizing up the situation with the instincts of a warrior, she quickly came to the crux of the problem.

“Yeeeah, Miss Sterling – hes muh uncle. He’s onta us here, an’ got hisself a close encounter with a tree – thanks to Miss Ialin here.” Smokey scowled at the pixie, who tried to look penitent and failed miserably.

“Ialin? Nice look as a browncoat – thought that was you.” With that, she stopped, and closed her eyes. Tapping the local leylines was the work of a moment, and charging with sufficient power to help the old man was the work of seconds after that. She laid her hands on both sides of his head and stayed for long seconds, analyzing the damage and figuring the curative actions needed. She then stood, and addressed Al.

“So, Warhorse – what’s the play? The heal is trivial from the feel of it – he’s got a bump and will have a headache, no more. What do you want after that?”

“I need you to keep him under – I’ve seen Flashburn do this, and I know you can. Rig it so that if I and only I call him directly he’ll come out, but other than that he’ll stay down.”

“Done. Now all of you shut up – I’m out of practice on this.”

That said, she approached the sleeping man again, and her hands began to glow golden, growing brighter as she concentrated. Slowly, reverently, she laid her hands on both sides of the prone man’s head, her concentration and focus evident in the deliberation of her moves.

Seconds passed, and the sharp-eyed could see the bruising and contusions of the encounter with the tree diminished, reducing and pinking to the tone of healthy skin. Further seconds passed, and the golden glow slowly faded from her hands and the contact with Briggs’ skin.

Sterling’s shoulders sagged and she backed off from the prone man. “He’ll be fine, and he’s in a normal sleep now with the suggestion you asked for. Say his name three times and he’ll come up – but for the moment, he’s out and will stay there. Tough old bird.”

“Thank you, meduck. Now everyone clear out. We’re going to let him rest a bit, then he and I are going to have a quiet conversation.” With that, they all left the room, all four heading for the main rooms of the house.

"Sterling, do you need protein? I know you and your needs, and don't need you crashing again."

"No. I'm in good enough shape to portal myself home, and I'll dig in there. Let me know if you need me again, but if you don't mind I'm going to go do just that."

Al bowed, and said "Again, dear lady I find myself in your debt. Many thanks, and please do go and reload. Either that, or I'm going to have to send Buck to pull you out of the hospital again."

"Ohhhh, no, luv. NOT again. I have too much to do. Take care." With that, hand signs and the mutters of ritual she opened a portal with green and blue showers of light, stepped through, and it collapsed behind her.

"Briggs....Briggs... Briggs, mate...wake up."

Briggs' consciusness emerged from a deep, dreamless well. He was staring at a plastered ceiling, and the light in the room was dim - the shades were drawn.
As he woke, he started, and began to sit up. Gentle hands pressed him back onto the bed, and restrained him till his synapses caught up with his panicked motions.

"Easy, mate - you took a good thump to the nut. Just rest easy for a minute, and then sit up when you want to. I'll open a shade a bit - let's get some light on the subject."

With that, Briggs saw Al stand, then walk to a window and open a shade. The room brightened, and Al returned, sitting in a chair Briggs could now see.

"Easy, mate. One thing at a time. Tell me, what day is it?"

"Friday."

"What is your full name?"

"Briggs Andrew Stratton."

"So, it is Briggs Andy Stratton? Name like that I'd have slapped me mum - AND Da. Do you know where you are? No need to be specific - state and city or general locale will suit."

"Ah'm at yer house - Alexander House."

"Very good. Sit up, now."

At that prompt, Briggs swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. He could now see that he and Al were alone, and that there was no one else in his room.

"Do you remember what happened to you?"

"Yessir. Young Leslie and I were talkin' in the woods, and that damn scientist come along and she done run mah ass over. We had a few words, and I tripped and hit...something. Not sure what." Suddenly, Briggs went quiet. He rembered now - altogether too well.

The walk in the garden, and the reconciliation. The fierce hug. Walking, then his questions and the spilling of the truth. The flying woman, and then the scientist coming along and interrupting.

Then blackness, and waking up here.

"How do you feel?"

With that question, Briggs took inventory. Everything was still attached, and other than a bit of a twinge in his neck from how he was laying he felt fine. Mystified, he queried Al.

"Ah'm fine. Ah feel OK - no problems." With that, he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, a confused man.

"Good. I did have a healer in to check you out. You won’t even have a bruise, though you did have a rather sharp impact on that oak on the path. I do sincerely apologize for that - you turned from talking to Ms. Dryad, and tripped on a root. I will have that part of the path re-graded - can't have people tripping and getting hurt."

"Where's Leslie? He and ah were talkin', then that scientist come up, and that's when the fun started." Al, watching Briggs with the Sergeant-Major's senses, saw him tense up hard, and knew that his mind had retuned to the questions that had driven him to the stridency he'd displayed in the garden.

"He's likely sitting down and having lunch - you've been resting for an hour or a bit more. As your host, I took 'first watch' on you to make sure you were all right. Again, I do apologize sincerely for what happened."

None of this was mitigating Briggs’ distress, as Al could see. If he tenses up much more I'm afraid of what he'll do...best move this along.

Settling back, Al looked Smokey in the eye. "While you were sleeping, Leslie and I had a long talk. You have questions about what you've seen here - and I hardly blame you. You and I need to have a chat - and perhaps I can dispel your fears."

Briggs turned mulish. "Nope not gonna talk to yew till ah see Leslie. Lord only knows whut you've done to the boy."

Al pursed his lips - this was not going quite as smoothly as he'd liked. "Leslie is at present having lunch in my kitchen with my wife and business partner, and his wife. Likely Rosalita has sat down with them - en famille that often happens as she's as much a member of the family as she is anything else.

He is fine. To be honest you are not. You are frightened, concerned and have seen things that make no sense to you.

Speaking as an ex-member of 1 Para, had I meant you or your nephew any harm - you would never have woken up. Accept the fact that I mean you no harm, and let's move on."

Surly, Briggs countered, "There's too much crazy goin' on here fer me to relax, Mister Richer. Ah 'spect you know all about it, too - and that ah'm either gonna get stonewalled or worse over it."

"Briggs, no one here means you any harm or frustration whatsoever. If you had come to me and talked to me, we could have had this conversation much more simply, and you likely could have avoided a close encounter with my oak tree."
Al rose, and turned for the door. "Let's go up to my office and talk. I'll send down for coffee and brandy and we can chat. After that, if you decide to leave you are more than free to go - I have no ill intentions against you or yours."

During the time that Al had been monitoring Briggs and their short conversation pandemonium had broken out belowstairs at New Alexander.

With a Diesel roar a black panel van had arrived in the turning circle and its three occupants debarked. Already familiar with the house Lily and Suzie escorted Dr. North into the great room, carrying his bag of medical equipment.

Fiding no one there, they proceeded across the hall to the kitchen, where they found everyone sharing sandwiches and soup.

Daisy got up and hugged Lily, "Damn it's good see you. Al is upstairs with him now - not sure where this is going."

"So, what the hell happened? You guys know how to deal with a mundane - this isn’t the first one you've had on the property, after all counting workmen, construction gangs and such. What went wrong?"

"Ah'll tell yuh. Uncle saw Miss Atasli in the air, and then Miss Ialin joined us fer dinner. That man's got nerve endins' out ten feet from his body - if there's somethin' covered up he'll dig it up."

“Damnit. Well, nothing to be done about it – it’s Dr. North’s turn. We’ll have to get him to forget it…Smokey, what’s wrong?”

“Damnit, Agent Pratt, ya caint do that. Briggs and I just settled out a long problem we had – we’re speakin’ again after too damn many years.”

“Smokey, can’t do anything else - he’s dangerous right now. It’s not just the folks here – if he blows the Masquerade it’s going to be a long, nasty job cleaning this up.”

Smokey’s look turned almost pleading. “Caint y’let Al try? He had an idea on a way ta fix it. Let ‘im try.”

At that time the wall phone rang, shrilling into the momentary silence. Rosalita stood from her lunch and walked over, noting it was Al’s office phone.

“Que? SI, Señor Al. Coffee and the brandy decanter and glasses? Your office? Si. Five minutes.”

As Rosalita turned away, Lily swung into action.

“Perfect. I need to get a look at this guy – sorry, Smokey, but this is the way it’s got to be. If things are going off the rails I’m going to need to use a neuralizer on him and back off the memories.”

“Agent Pratt – ya caint. I just got ‘im back – don’t take ‘im from me again.”

“Sorry, Smokey – it’s the way it’s got to be. I won’t if I don’t have to, but I need to see what’s going on up there. Rosalita.”

“SI, Lily?”

“I need a uniform – fast. Got anything close to fitting me?”

Rosalita studied her, and came to a decision. “Si. Mine will fit. You are bigger…” she made motions to her chest “than I am, but leave a button or two loose and it will do. Come with me.”

Shirt and jacket off, holster off, and the maid’s uniform went on nicely over Pratt’s black trousers. Coming back into the kitchen Daisy chuckled. “Damn, Skeeter – you look like a maid in a porn flick. Button that up a little, or you’re gonna make Al’s whole day.”

“Would if I could – but it’s not going to let me. OK, let me have the tray. Dr. North, a neuralizer please.”

"Agent Pratt - are you sure you want to take this path? With the proper approach we could achieve the results required - removing knowledge of the paranormal without damaging anything else."

"Dr. North, I respect your expertise but I think we're beyond that. Depending on what's going on up there we may have to go with a time-based approach and just excise the entire encounter - it's not good, but it's what we have."

Without further protest Dr. North handed her the instrument, and she slipped into a pocket of her trousers under the skirt.

During that time Edward had entered the kitchen, and been briefed on the happenings. Eyes widening on seeing Agent Pratt in a maid's uniform, he stopped Lily, warning her that "I have been calling Al 'Master' and 'Milord' while Mr. Stratton has been here. You may want to stay with it to remain in-character."

"Master? Call that pudgy little ball of lard master? I'd rather French kiss a banshee. I do see your point, though, thanks for the warning."

Taking up the tray, she headed for the stairs to the floor where Al’s office was. As she walked, she paid close attention to the environment - and what she heard was not welcome.

The volume level was high before she got to the door – Briggs was yelling at Al – and it sounded serious. Checking that she still had the neuralizer in her pocket, Lily knocked on the door, and opened it to a called “Come In!” from Al.

“Whut in the HAIL do y’all think yer playin at here? Creepy scientists, flyin’ people – whut all the hail else ya got goin on here? Whut next, fairies ‘n pixies, ‘r maybe a troll or a chupacabra?”

“Master Al, I brought the coffee.” Al turned from the gesticulating man, expecting to see Rosalita and not registering the voice, and his eyes widened at the appearance of the MIB agent, and more as her decolletage registered on his already-stressed consciousness.

“Thank you, Lily. Please put it on the sideboard.” Lily walked over to the sideboard and set down the tray, arranging the cups and condiment containers, and setting out a glass for the brandy. While she was doing this, Briggs finished a lap of the office, and turned away from her.

Reaching into her pocket, she palmed the neuralizer, then held it so it was visible to Al.

“Master, is there anything else you require?”

Al’s eyes opened wide on seeing the neuralizer. “No, we’re good here, Lily, you may go now.”

“Sir, are you sure?” She waved the neuralizer in a short arc, and Al’s eyes followed it – he saw it well and properly.

“Thank you, Lily, we’re good. Thank you.”

“Sir, are you-“ Lily began again, nearly pleading to him.

“Lily, please return belowstairs, we are well in hand here, and there’s no problem. Thank. You.” There was no mistaking the Command Voice in the last statement – he was not going to brook any argument.

With that, Lily left the office, closing the door after herself. She returned to the kitchen, and the waiting people.

“Al’s got himself a handful up there. Briggs is pacing back and forth and ranting up a storm, and the old fool is just sitting and listening. I couldn’t get a shot at Briggs – Al ordered me out of the room. I hope to hell he knows what he’s doing.”

Smokey smiled. “Damn, that’s good. If he’s rantin’ he ain’t swingin’. Briggs is a hothead – but when he cools down he’s usually willing to listen.”

Up in the office, Briggs was still in fine form – pacing back and forth, yelling and generally declaiming the situation he found himself in and the ‘weird goings on’ of Al’s household. Al listened peacefully, his face a mask of calm. Underneath, however, he was concerned.

Damn, if Lily is here that means Suzie is as well – and that means MIB. Wonder who called them? I need to deal with this – and now would not be too soon.

From the paneled gunroom in Al's mind the Sergeant-Major examined the body language and behavior of his guest closely. The pacing, the movement, the loud shouting – some made sense, but the amount here was…wrong. It was almost like a feint – a distraction.

What could he possibly be trying to distract me from? Distract us from, he corrected. Briggs was well aware that whatever was amiss, the household was involved.

Suddenly, the situation crystallized. The bluster, the noise, the attempt at flight, the concern...it all made sense.

Al knew how to fix it, and it wasn't going to require a neuralizer or anything else.

Standing, he turned to his pacing guest and said "I am having a cup of coffee. You can either continue to rant or join me. Just to slake your concern, I will pour two cups of coffee and two glasses of brandy, and you are more than welcome to select either of them."

"Y'all don't drink."

"In this case I will make an exception." Al poured two cups of coffee, and decanted a scant ounce of brandy into two glasses.
Briggs, bluster derailed for the moment, walked over and selected a cup, then adulterated it with the condiments presented. Placing the cup in a saucer, he picked up the cup and one of the small brandy snifters and turned away back to his place at the desk.

"So, how long have you known about the paranormal?"

WIth a crash and the tinkling of shatteirng glass the brandy snifter hit the floor, closely followed by the coffee cup and its contents. The brandy splattered, soaking the nearby rug, and the coffee pooled around the broken remains of the mug.

[lake_wrangler]

Loving every minute of this story. Disappointed that reading it in the near future will be more difficult, as I am heading out on a bicycle trip for the week...

So tell me, Al, do you have some form of autocorrect function, that keeps changing AUNT to ANT? Every time mention is made of Smokey's uncle's wife, an insect of the formicidae family is mentioned instead...


Speaking of Smokey, unless he has teleportation capabilities, I'm pretty sure it's Briggs, not Smokey, who, "bluster derailed for the moment, walked over and selected a cup, then adulterated it with the condiments presented"...

[Just Old Al]

Loving every minute of this story. Disappointed that reading it in the near future will be more difficult, as I am heading out on a bicycle trip for the week...

So tell me, Al, do you have some form of autocorrect function, that keeps changing AUNT to ANT? Every time mention is made of Smokey's uncle's wife, an insect of the formicidae family is mentioned instead...


Speaking of Smokey, unless he has teleportation capabilities, I'm pretty sure it's Briggs, not Smokey, who, "bluster derailed for the moment, walked over and selected a cup, then adulterated it with the condiments presented"...

1. COlloquialism. Depending on one's origins, aunt can be pronounced as ant - hence my use of the term.

2. Character name screwup. Thanks for the heads-up.

[lake_wrangler]

1. COlloquialism. Depending on one's origins, aunt can be pronounced as ant - hence my use of the term.

I would argue that regardless of the pronunciation (I too, would pronounce it as "ant"), it still should be spelled "aunt". However, you have been typing out their Texan accent from the beginning, so I can see how spelling it this way would stress out the fact that they definitely are NOT from Boston...

("oo, BOS-ton..." - Hayley Mills, The Parent Trap, 1961)

[FreeFlier]

. . . .Kind of like that episode of M.A.S.H., where the known practical joker (I have only watched a few episodes, so I don't even know who that it, though I have my suspicions) promised to take his revenge on two others (for whatever reason), then spent the whole episode apparently doing nothing towards that goal, but watching the two intended victims be so paranoid about it, that they made their own lives miserable in the process. . . .

I never saw that episode, but I can assure you that doing that is a great deal of fun . . .

One agrees!

...

That grin is always disturbing.

--FreeFlier

[GlytchMeister]

Wolf-who-watches has been hanging out with Prroul and his Sensei too much lately...
(have we revealed his name here? I forgot...)

[Dave]

"So, how long have you known about the paranormal?"

"Well, it started with that little herd of Holsteins we bought from a rancher out in Farside who was retiring. Strange things started happening, and we eventually caught them at it and learned that they were actually a family of bovimorphs..."

2006-11-27_142614_cow_tools.jpg (28.05 KiB) Viewed 18526 times

[lake_wrangler]

"So, how long have you known about the paranormal?"

"Well, it started with that little herd of Holsteins we bought from a rancher out in Farside who was retiring. Strange things started happening, and we eventually caught them at it and learned that they were actually a family of bovimorphs..."

Are you trying to cover for someone? Like perhaps, an overweight, graying, overall-wearing farmer with a wormhole in his barn?