Doing it right...

[Sgt. Howard]

(I think we can fix how that looks, btw; insert my stuff after "salvage what had been lost.")

Can do-

[Sgt. Howard]

News of the event at the Westboro Baptist Church spread like wildfire- some called it a fraud, others stated that this was a sympathy ploy... but many Pastors and Reverends that spoke with the remaining few and were convinced that they were, in fact, blind... even though Doctors found nothing wrong with their eyes. Some went to a variety of specialists, but one young man confessed his sins at a Catholic Church and regained his sight! Another young fellow, not quite thirteen, did the same at a Church of the Nazarene and had the same results! One by one, former members chose to forsake their former lives and regained their sight... and their true faith.

There were some hold-outs... but there might be hope yet- no names need be mentioned...

[FreeFlier]

We approve.

--FreeFlier

[Sgt. Howard]

It was such a contrast from Minneapolis to the Atlantic Ocean archipelago now known as 'Club U-296'- perfect weather, warm beaches with coarse sand lining the lagoon, all the refinements of civilization that really mattered (and none that didn't)... the south end of the island had been declared 'Clothing Optional' by mutual consent... an option that Justin and Shelly often would take as they enjoyed their Honeymoon.
MIB had actually put together a minimal staff on the island- as it became a popular resort to their numbers, a place where they could 'decompress' without worry about broaching the barrier between the mundane world and the paranormal. As such, the two newlyweds were not there alone, but had all the privacy they needed-
Frolicking in the surf on the South Shore, Justin would alternate between splashing Shelly and copping a feel... and both activities were reciprocated by her. Lunch sat in a basket above the tide-line, inside a heavily built, seagull-resistant cooler. A six-pack of Corona sat in a make-shift tide pool, keeping cool.
To this scenery, a young lady in U-296 Livery approached bearing a cellphone-
"Mr. Epimethus? I have a phone call from the mainland- will you accept?"
"Be right there," he stated as he stumbled out of the surf.
Grabbing the phone, he announced, "Officer Epimethus... Oh, hi there Suzi... yea, well, sucks to be you- heh... I see... I see... hmph... yeah, well, I don't suppose they can be put off on that, eh?... naw, the weather down here is crappy, the surf is... well, it's surf, OK?...yea, and we are having a miserable time and never want to leave... right... yea, and tell Rob that the next time we pop a building, HE kicks the door and I get first shots... right... 'bye..."
"What's going on?" Shelly asked as she ambled out of the water.
"I have some photo-op with the Mayor once we get back... stupid thing, really, but I can't avoid it. She's coming up for election, you know... wants to show her support of us cops... even though she wanted to cut our budget just last year,"
"Never seen a politician yet that couldn't lie out of both sides of their mouth at once... I don't suppose you could just shove a pie in her face with the cameras running, could you?"
"There's a thought... here, Kelly- thank you... no, I'll just have to 'tough it out', I guess..."
"You've handled worse," and from there she kissed him- and decided to find a scant level of privacy with her husband...

[FreeFlier]

. . .
"Never seen a politician yet that could lie out of both sides of his mouth at once... I don't suppose you could just shove a pie in his face with the cameras running, could you?"
. . .

Shouldn't that be that couldn't lie?

--FreeFlier

[lake_wrangler]

There- done- and if a librarian had not called a rambunctious little child in a library a 'Hooligan' at some point while trying to raise him there, I'll eat this laptop.

I hope you find good seasoning, to go with that laptop... After all, from the wording of your sentence, I merely need to point out that it is most likely that no librarian has ever tried to raise a kid in a library (regardless of whether they would have called him a hooligan or not), for you to need to face the consequences of your boast...
(Of course, trying to prove that no librarian ever tried to raise a kid in a library is a different matter entirely... And I'm not about to promise to eat my computer on the veracity or falsity of my own statement... )

Having said that, I hope my intervention and my objection, so to speak, concerning that small matter (in light of the scope of the overall story), did not make me appear to be, or feel like, a nuisance, or any such thing. I do enjoy your story thoroughly. You and the other authors have obviously spent many an hour considering the most minute details of it.

[lake_wrangler]

. . .
"Never seen a politician yet that could lie out of both sides of his mouth at once... I don't suppose you could just shove a pie in his face with the cameras running, could you?"
. . .

Shouldn't that be that couldn't lie?

--FreeFlier

Unless the emphasis is on the fact that they can't do both at once. I.e., he has to lie from one side of the mouth first, then lie from the other side of the mouth? I don't know, I'm just asking... I would also feel like FreeFlier, in fact, but am curious as to the possibility of the other interpretation.

[lake_wrangler]

Lunch sat in a basket above the tide-line, inside a heavily built, seagull-resistant cooler.

A handy feature, if there ever was one, on a cooler...
Where can we find one?

[Just Old Al]

Guys...what part of REVISION 1 is an issue here...?

We know..I noticed it as well and noted it for future discussion of revisions...

EDIT: Re: Seagull-proof cooler: Older Coleman metal ones with a positive latch are very good. Not bear-proof, but even block raccoons.

Plastic with an added catch are almost as good as long as it's a positive latch.

[jwhouk]

EEEP!

Uh, Sarge? Google "Minneapolis Mayor" and redo your comment? (PRO-noun trouble...)

https://www.google.com/search?hl=en&ie= ... gws_rd=ssl

[ShneekeyTheLost]

EEEP!

Uh, Sarge? Google "Minneapolis Mayor" and redo your comment? (PRO-noun trouble...)

https://www.google.com/search?hl=en&ie= ... gws_rd=ssl

This is why I prefer to write in either an Alternate Reality or just plain in my own 'verse. If I want a caricature Greedy Corrupt Politician slotted in somewhere, I can darn well slot him in and not have to worry about trivial little things like facts.

Why yes, I do rather enjoy doing a little side-step from time to time, why do you ask?

[Just Old Al]

EEEP!

Uh, Sarge? Google "Minneapolis Mayor" and redo your comment? (PRO-noun trouble...)

https://www.google.com/search?hl=en&ie= ... gws_rd=ssl

This is why I prefer to write in either an Alternate Reality or just plain in my own 'verse. If I want a caricature Greedy Corrupt Politician slotted in somewhere, I can darn well slot him in and not have to worry about trivial little things like facts.

Why yes, I do rather enjoy doing a little side-step from time to time, why do you ask?

Every word is true...give or take a lie here and there. I like that in a person.

[Just Old Al]

Camps cleared, though the warm loving offer of hearth and home remained open, Emerauld and Safyr crept into the manor house for a few final tasks before Emerauld returned to her training. Dressed in their leathers, they were ready for the long journey home. This would always be a home for them, though – a spot where they were accepted as what they were and not despised. They would be back that was assured – but for now they needed to be other places.

They found Glytch in the office, and stood at the door as Emerauld had before. Most of the computer equipment was packed into his backpack and the remains ready to go in. The cardboard and painter’s tape was up off the floor and neatly stacked for recycling.

Seeing them, Glytch stuffed away the rest of the equipment quickly, and closed up the backpack. He then turned to them and said, “Come in. I think this should be better – I’ll turn off the overhead lights.”

They stepped in. Emerauld said, “Yes, friend Glytch, the lack of lights and the packing away of the plastics makes things acceptable for a short stay.”

Safyr said, “Our stay will be short indeed. We have come to say farewell – 'tis time we return to our tasks...and 'home'...though this place is far truer to that word...now.
Eme’ needs to return to training, though I think now it will have meaning for her. I have tasks I must be about now that the Centurion, Phix and her family are safe.”

Glytch teared up. He knew that this would happen, but he’d grown very attached to the people here at Club Alexander and the sisters in particular.

“I’ll miss you both. You have taught me so much, and given me so much – both in material things and in life lessons. I’ll never forget you – either of you.”

Eme stepped forward, a leather pack in her hands. “I have gifts for you, Glytchie.” She handed him a crystal wand – one similar to that which she used to store the energy of the leylines. “This is a signal – should you have need of me or Safyr simply break or crush this – have no fear, you cannot do it accidentally.

When it is broken, it will summon us – no matter where we are, we will know and come as swift…as swift as we can. Do not use this unless in dire need – this is for an emergency. Should you wish us for less urgent things, speak with the Angel Kitty in the Library – she has ways to contact us.”

“The second gift is more…fun, but will be welcome I think.” She handed him a second pack, and he reached inside to find the interior icy cold. Touching a smooth glass object, he withdrew a bottle of Vanilla Coke – icy cold and ready to drink.

“This is like the endless quiver – but it serves other needs.” she said impishly.

"It's a roight shame they don't bring this here glass style to the States. These come from down-under, home of boomerangs, koalas, and the digeridoo...g'day mate!

Ugh! That is the last time I let the Old Sarge show me 'bad foreign flicks' when tired! That was dreadful! I am sure they really do not speak so bad, but he said it would be amusing...to you. Feel free to prank him...epic level, and place the blame at me."

“One other thing – do not neglect your archery. You need to be outdoors and practice – do not let your skills lie fallow or you will lose them. I know this will be difficult to do where you live, but find a way – you will not regret it. In this way what I have done can still keep you safe and be with you.”

Glytch put down the crystal and the pack, and with that Emerauld gathered him into her arms. Both began to cry quietly, sad at this parting. One eternity stretched to two, then to another…and she let him go, turned and left the office.

On her way out the door she ran into Buck. She had been hoping to avoid all others – elves do not do 'goodbyes' well, for long lived as they are, it has an air of finality to it – and this felt so as well due to the likely subject matter.

“We must go.” she said to him, a simple, sad benediction for an already closed subject. He nodded, but still had to try.

“The area down where you were camped is yours to stay on as long as there is an Alexander in residence here. We can do no less, for what you did here...and what you have done for Momma and Al. Remember this, please, and come back when you can.”

“My camp has been told to be well, to stand guard as always – the little hut will stay as it is...as Castela asked for it, and 'tis safer than the treehouse she truly wanted...well, not if I built it, but safer for you and your mates peace in mind.
We will return soon – we will be here for your Yule celebration – but I have lessons to learn still, training to complete, my sister...has tasks yet unfinished.

We could live here forever, happily, but it would not be right...no, it would not feel right with so much left unfinished. We must go for a time, but will return.”

They hugged, the slight elf nearly disappearing against the broad chest of the centaur. Then she was gone.

Back in the office Safyr waited till Emerauld was gone, then turned to Glytch as he wiped his eyes and nose with a tissue.

“You have no idea what your presence has done for my sister. She was still…damaged when she came here – barely able to function because of the loss, pain, and rage the berserker left warring within her.
Meeting you, training you, being with her as you were and accepting her freely, you gave her what she needed – a friend, a reason to continue, to exist and connection to other beings...nay, friends, that also accepted her thus.

Just by being yourself, and doing what you do always, you gave her back her life.
For this, and many reasons, may the Gods forever grant you favor. Know truly that I do. My blade is ever at your service. Be well, and accept this, friend Glytch...with my eternal thanks.”

She reached into her pack and withdrew a knife in a scabbard, with a chain for wearing over the shoulder. Passing it to Glytch she said “This is like the knife that Greg the S’argt carries. In and of itself it is a fine weapon – but when you are carrying it its magic also helps conceal you from enemies. Use it well, I know you will – and when you wear it know what a difference you have made...in Emerauld’s life...and my own.”

Closing quickly, she gave Glytch a brief fierce hug, stepped back, and disappeared.

[DinkyInky]

EEEP!

Uh, Sarge? Google "Minneapolis Mayor" and redo your comment? (PRO-noun trouble...)

https://www.google.com/search?hl=en&ie= ... gws_rd=ssl

This is why I prefer to write in either an Alternate Reality or just plain in my own 'verse. If I want a caricature Greedy Corrupt Politician slotted in somewhere, I can darn well slot him in and not have to worry about trivial little things like facts.

Why yes, I do rather enjoy doing a little side-step from time to time, why do you ask?

Every word is true...give or take a lie here and there. I like that in a person.

...and I can assure ya'll it's true...because it was tol' to me by a TEXAN.

*hides from Shneekey*

(I know the board is full of Texans, but the Tex Avery gag is an old joke between me and the punny Bard with the filky mind...or is that backwards?)

[Warrl]

. . .
"Never seen a politician yet that could lie out of both sides of his mouth at once... I don't suppose you could just shove a pie in his face with the cameras running, could you?"
. . .

Shouldn't that be that couldn't lie?

--FreeFlier

Hey, I was gonna say that...

[Sgt. Howard]

I HATE OSTEOPOROSIS!!!

[GlytchMeister]

I HATE OSTEOPOROSIS!!!

Uh oh. Everything alright, Sarge?

[Just Old Al]

I HATE OSTEOPOROSIS!!!

Uh oh. Everything alright, Sarge?

Oh, dear. Sounds like Sarge had another full day of elderly ladies with broken bones.

And THIS is why I make She WHo Must Be Obeyed do lots of dairy....

[Sgt. Howard]

I HATE OSTEOPOROSIS!!!

Uh oh. Everything alright, Sarge?

Oh, dear. Sounds like Sarge had another full day of elderly ladies with broken bones.

And THIS is why I make She WHo Must Be Obeyed do lots of dairy....

It's like trying to nail together JELLO!!! I've built things out of PAPER MACHE that had more structural integrity when STILL WET!!!

[Just Old Al]

The chartered jet landed at Burlington Airport, and taxied to the general aviation side of the field.

The Alexanders deplaned and were met by a cab, which took them to the car-rental agency office outside the airport. There, they picked up a Range Rover and headed off to Hyde Park, Vermont – home of the Hazelton clan.

The trip was quiet – classical music on the radio was the only sound in the luxury car. Buck drove, with his mother at his side, and Rowdy and Cinnamon in the back. All of them still showed signs of wear from the battle, but the worst was Rowdy.

Skin pale, eyes dull, he looked far older than his mid-twenties. To anyone not knowing the history, he would have looked like a cancer patient or one suffering from a wasting disease. The only disease he suffered from, however, was a disease of the spirit.

Ever since the battle a few days before, he had been obsessed with one thought and one thought alone – that Patty Hazelton had died directly because of his actions.

On the car sped, down I-89 to Route 100, then down the twisting, turning two-lane highway till it reached Hyde Park – and they turned onto Main Street. Crossing the river on a covered bridge, they emerged after a few hundred yards into the center of town.

Main Street in Hyde Park was like many small Vermont towns – a neatly kept stretch of blacktop lined with the essentials of small town life. The local church was there with its neat greensward, a general store in a tidy white building, and across the street from the store the object of their journey – the funeral home.

“It’s just before ten – we’re right on time. Park in the lot and let’s go in – we have time to pay our respects before the service starts.” Daisy led the way, her children with her, as they walked up the wooden steps of the tidy clapboard-covered building that was the funeral home. A discreet sign marked “Patricia Hazelton Memorial Service” pointed straight ahead and they followed it.

The receiving room was not large, but it was crowded. The people there nearly all bore the unmistakable stamp of centauroid features obvious to another centaur – they were mostly relatives of the young lady. Comforted by the presence of so many of their own kind they each knelt in front of the closed casket, uttered a brief prayer, and stood to offer their condolences to the family of the young girl.

Daisy approached the first in line – an older couple, the man spectrally thin, the woman a bit gone in the stoutness of middle age – but both marked with the common stamp of crushing grief. Both bore it stoically like true Vermonters – the hard life of the rocky northern regions breeds a certain acceptance in those who live there.

“I’m Rosalynd Alexander, and these are my children. We were with Patricia when she was killed. We are so terribly sorry for your loss.”

Somewhat shocked, the old couple started. Whispers began further down the line as the identity of the visitors was remarked upon.

“Please, be welcome. We had no idea that Dusky was in Minneapolis – she told us she was going to Gettysburg for a while to study some historical records. We were terribly shocked to hear what had happened.

After the service we are having a private lunch – please join us. If it would not be too painful we would like to know what happened – the police in Minneapolis told us little.”

Rowdy blanched. Even after a few days all he could see was the blood and feel the sharp rap as the bullet hit his vest. However, numbly, he nodded as his mother and siblings did.

The service was a simple Protestant one. Casket in the nave of the church, the minister read the burial service from the Book Of Common Prayer.

“I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.”

As the service went on, the casket was moved to the altar and the psalms continued with Psalm 90.
“Lord, thou hast been our refuge : from one generation to another.
Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever the earth and the world were made : thou art God from everlasting, and world without end.
Thou turnest man to destruction: again thou sayest, Come again, ye children of men. For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday : seeing that is past as a watch in the night.
As soon as thou scatterest them, they are even as a sleep : and fade away suddenly like the grass. In the morning it is green, and groweth up: but in the evening it is cut down, dried up, and withered.”
In all of this, Rowdy sagged lower and lower in his seat – the guilt was overwhelming. As the prayers continued he quietly began to cry, the tears dripping from his eyes even as he sat as still as the mountains outside the windows.
The service continued.
“O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, unmoveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labour is not in vain in the Lord.”


With this, the casket was taken to the hearse, and the procession of cars followed it the mile or two to the burial ground.

Here the casket was removed from the hearse, and the pallbearers brought it to the snowy gravesite. The congregation followed, walking on laid out strips of Astroturf – shockingly green against the winter appearance of the burial ground.

The place itself was beautiful – on a small hillock at the southern edge of town. The trees were kept cleared back to one side, which provided a view of the White Mountains. It was a beautiful place to spend Eternity – the abandoned shell does not care, but the ones left behind do and take comfort in it.

Here, the service was completed.

“Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed: we therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ; who shall change our vile body, that it may be like unto his glorious body, according to the mighty working, whereby he is able to subdue all things to himself.”


At this, the grief in Rowdy’s heart finally burst through, and he began to cry great whooping sobs onto his mother’s shoulder. Buck and Cindy surrounded the pair one to each side, and the family stood, immobile as statues as the others filed away back to their lives. Eventually, even the strongest emotional storm must fade, and Rowdy eventually calmed.

Back in the car, Rowdy turned to his mother, fear plain on his face.

“I can’t go to that lunch, Momma. How can I face these people and tell them that she died in my arms – because of a turn of the music?”

Daisy turned to him, looked directly into his eyes and said, “Rowdy, my son, you can’t stay away.

First off, they deserve to know what happened. Secondly, talking about this to people who will care to hear it will be good for you as well. My love, you need to heal – and talking to these people will help you do so.”

The lunch was at the home of the Hazeltons – all of the family were there. All were suffering the pangs of grief, but this didn’t stop them from making their guests welcome.

They were introduced to the immediate family – Mother, Father, Patricia’s twin sister Pauline (a shudder ran down Rowdy’s spine on meeting her) and her 17-year old brother Randall.

After eating, Patricia’s mother and father pulled the Alexanders aside and guided them to an office where there was more than enough seating for the small group.

“Please – I hate to ask you to go through this again, but we don’t really know what happened. We have the…autopsy report and this tells us how she died, but it doesn’t tell us her last moments.”

This was the moment Rowdy had dreaded.

“I was passing by the entrance, and Patty was trying to…gate crash the party. She said she knew me personally, and that caught my ear. I got her past security, and she and I sat together during the service and after at dinner. The usual events happened that happen at weddings, and we had fun getting to know each other a little.

Then the dancing started. She and I danced together a lot, then I requested an old Beatles song. We were dancing to that when…it happened. The first idea I had that something had happened was when she bumped me. She fell…”

Rowdy began to cry again, sitting there in front of Patty’s parents and his own family. Great sobs escaped him one after another, until the storm passed again.

When he looked up, Patty’s parents were crying as well. “It seems like she really never knew what happened – is that right?”

Rowdy answered honestly with the facts as he knew them. “Yes, that’s right. We were dancing, then the shots began. She fell, and I was pulled away to cover. She never moved from where she fell.”

The old couple took the news stoically. A long look passed between them, one of the complex conversations that a long-married couple can have with just glances. After a few moments, Father again spoke.

“This is what Ma and I needed to know. She was happy, dancing and with a handsome young man right up to the second it happened – and then she was beyond the veil. Little suffering, and no pain.”

“Bless you for telling us – at least now we know what happened. Thank you for caring for her, and for coming to see us and tell us this.”

Soon after, the Alexanders excused themselves and returned to the Range Rover for the long trip to Burlington, and then home.