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  • #3315
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      Some character development, obviously not quite canon material…

      The Arousing Scarf
      – a short story

      by Ewkmon

      Sadie Merrie had always hated derelict Birmingham with its zesty, zealous zoos. It was a place where she felt snappy.

      She was a mysterious, freakish, algae smoothie drinker with ginger arms and supple hair. Her friends saw her as a successful, sad saint. Once, she had even helped a clear batty old crone recover from a flying accident. That’s the sort of woman he was.

      Sadie walked over to the window and reflected on her dusty surroundings. The storm teased like rampaging rabbits.

      Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Sadie’s sister Moanie. Sadie’s sister was an awkward succubus with funny arms and impressive hair.

      Sadie gulped. She was not prepared for Sadie’s sister.

      As Sadie stepped outside and Sadie’s sister came closer, she could see the mysterious glint in her eye.

      “I am here because I want revenge,” Sadie’s sister bellowed, in a glamourous tone. She slammed her fist against Sadie’s chest, with the force of 3750 grumpy cats. “I frigging love you, Sadie Merrie.”

      Sadie looked back, even more mad and still fingering the arousing scarf. “Sadie’s sister, I love you,” she replied.

      They looked at each other with cheery feelings, like two talented, thankful twin piggies drinking at a very generous funeral, which had jazz music playing in the background and two slim uncles flying to the beat.

      Suddenly, Sadie’s sister lunged forward and tried to punch Sadie in the face. Quickly, Sadie grabbed the arousing scarf and brought it down on Sadie’s sister’s skull.

      Sadie’s sister’s funny arms trembled and her impressive hair wobbled. She looked vindicative, her body raw like a breakable, blue-eyed broom.

      Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Sadie’s sister Moanie was dead.

      Sadie Merrie went back inside and made herself a nice drink of algae smoothie.

      THE END

      #3314

      Fanella gazed into the dying flames of the campfire, while her toasted cheese cooled. “2121, here I come!” she said in a confident sounding voice, but she shivered in apprehension. 2121, 2121, she repeated, watching the flames, 21 21 12, 21 12 12 1212….21 12…1212…. her eyes were getting heavy and she started to drift off. Is that a tractor coming up the beach? she wondered, Or a motorbike? The very ground was starting to rumble and vibrate.
      Suddenly she was wide awake, and the the flames were towering over her head. The heat was blistering and her head was filled with roaring sounds, and hissing snapping cracks. As she was standing there trying to make sense of her surroundings, someone slammed into her from behind, making her legs buckle ~ there were people running in all directions, carrying babies or buckets of water, portraits or small wooden chests or squalking chickens. It was mayhem in the narrow alleys between the burning houses, showers of sparks and choking blasts, ear splitting shrieks and blood curdling howls assaulted all her senses, as she spun around looking for a way out of this appalling scene.
      “Surely this isn’t the island in 2121!” she exclaimed in anguish. “But if it isn’t then where am I? And when?”
      “This is Southwark, wench, and I can’t believe we’re having another Great Fire already” replied a man in an arousing blue codpeice who was running along beside her. “If you want to get out of here alive, follow me!”
      Fanella was not in the habit of running after strange men, but she couldn’t take her eyes off that gorgeous blue codpiece.

      #3313

      When Jack had sent Lisa a message to ask if Fanella had joined her and Mirabelle in Portugal, she was worried.
      “Mirabelle, Fanella has disappeared, do you know anything about it?” asked Lisa. “Did she say anything to you that might give us a clue? Was she planning on going anywhere, did she have any friends outside the village? I know she homesick for 18th century Paris, but she couldn’t possibly have gone back ~ or could she?”
      “Bit of a dark horse, our Fanella,” replied Mirabelle. “Always down by that river on her own, reading that strange old book.”
      “Not Circle of Eights and Other Stories!”
      “Yes, that’s the one. She was practicing projecting to the places in the book.”
      WHAT?? Mirabelle, there’s no time to lose, we must go back to the village at once. If Fanella has been doing that, she could be anywhere, anywhere at all ~ and the trail will be a hard one to follow!”
      “But what about our holiday? And not only that, what about the strange tile that was stolen that we’re supposed to be looking for?”
      “The damn tile can wait.” snapped Lisa. “But I haven’t forgotten your arousing arms,” she added, her voice softening. “But we must find Fanella first.”

      ~~

      Lisa was not surprised to find on her return to the village that everything had descended into chaos. She knew that her responsibility belief about her herd tribe had something to do with it, and although she detested the word control, she was well aware of her propensity for monitoring and guiding the creatures and characters in her domain. The lifestyle in the village had relaxed her guidelines about fair play to some extent, but by golly some people were lazy slackers at times. But the one thing that got her goat was being kept in the dark. How could she keep a benevolent control if she wasn’t aware of what was going on? When she found out that Fanella had been making a granite box, and that she was the last to know, she was furious.

      #3312

      “Madam, I have found something…” Mr R was pointing at a large floating piece of moss in the middle of the bog where they had landed a few days ago.
      “At last,… some excitement, whoo…” said Irina with a deadpan expression that left no doubt as to her current level of excitement.

      There weren’t many clues as to where and when they’d arrived, but she already hated it.
      The bog for one, wasn’t her idea of a great retirement place. Of course, there were probably other places to explore on the island, it wasn’t as if she’d stay here permanently, but for now, if the bog was a nexus point of teleporting, she’d rather stay around, in case others would come from there. That was one of the first thing you learnt during the Training, to secure your entry points. You’d never know what to expect, teleporting whales were probably the least dangerous of the things that could get stranded here. And judging by the amount of strange objects littering the area, she and her robot weren’t the first thing to have been discarded here.

      She’d tasked Mr R, in his immense resourcefulness, to build her a proper watchtower, or just for now, a downsized version of what she’d felt would be a decent one.
      A proof of the robot’s talent was that with barely nothing, he’d managed in the past days to bulldoze a clearing in a less wet portion of the land. There, the light’s plays were purely gorgeous, creating the smallest ripples and endless reflections on the green tinges of the water —something Irina could observe with wonder for hours. Mr R had also managed to cook her a rather lovely braised water rat, with fresh peppermint and lotus roots caramelized in wild bees’ honey.
      He’d already built the foundations of a anthill-sized promontory, with a clean deck where she could rest on a surprinsingly comfortable deckchair made of driftwood and pieces of whatnots gathered around the place. That was were she was enjoying the last minutes of sun for the day, just about when he’d asked her to check on his discovery. It probably was important enough for the robot to disrupt her digestive meditation.

      “Well, well… What have we got here…”
      “It looks like a person, Madam… Female, around 28, judging by her bone structure. Her vitals are subtly low, but it seems she is alive…” the robot said after a careful scanning.
      “Alive? With that color ?” Irina was quite perplexed and slightly amused too.
      She wouldn’t mind some company and probably some intel on the island. Besides, there was a side of her that liked to nurse back to life those poor little wounded creatures. The girl would be her first greenish one…

      “Take her to our place, Mr R” she ordered the robot. “We will soon need double ration of your delicious water rat stew, Mr R”.

      #3309
      Jib
      Participant

        The boy was giving her a tour of the grounds in a monotonous voice.

        “The hotel is actually divided in several pavilions, each representing a culture of the world and designated by a special name. The 888 pavilion was built according to the principles of Feng Shui in order to bring health and prosperity to the clients.”

        And certainly money to the hotel, thought Linda Pol.

        “The water spring represents the flow of energy. It is made in such a way that customers can hear a peaceful gurgle of water when they enter the building. It helps regulate the emotions and bring stability in life.”

        Linda Pol couldn’t help but notice that it was also skillfully made so that the water was always returning towards the building. A sudden roar startled her. She was so engrossed in her Asian prejudices that she hadn’t seen the lions.

        The boy, who had certainly planned that, recited his reassuring script to rich customers.
        “These lions, one male and one female, are held in an invisible electro-magnetic cell, they can’t escape or harm you in any way. They are from the Asian species.”

        “You mean they are real ?” At first she had thought they were carefully made robots, holograms wouldn’t have done the trick in direct sunlight. But real lions ?
        “Don’t tell me”, she continued, “they are here to shoo away the ill-intentioned.” For a moment, she had the impression that the eyes of the boy had shifted to an Asian breed.

        “Madame knows her Feng Shui”, said the boy with a fake smile.

        Could he be a robot ? What the fuck, all her vanity wasted to a robot ? Where has gone that gorgeous boy who brought her the message ?
        You’re paranoid, ma fille, said her mother’s voice.

        #3308
        Jib
        Participant

          “Madame, a message from your mother. She’s waiting for you in her room.”

          Linda Pol, ensconced in a lumpy chair at the hotel bar, got confused at the mention of her mother. She had forgotten for a moment that it was the code for her meeting with Amber Graystone. The boy was wearing the hotel livery, the fur was a perfect fit on that young body. He must have been eighteen, at least, it was illegal in most states to employ underage personnel. He was presenting her a folded paper on a silver plate. That was so cliché, the Management should keep up to date with the latest unusual methods.

          She took the paper delicately. Thick, three hundred grams at least. Grainy yet satin-smooth. She thought the Management had money issues. She opened it and saw a single number inside. 88857.

          “There must be a mistake, mon ami. Certainly your hotel is big, but it doesn’t have so many stories.”
          The boy smirked.
          “Please follow me, I’ll show you the way. Oh, and keep the card with you.”

          Linda Pol had become cautious with age, but she had to admit the thrill of adventure and mystery was exciting. Especially presented on a silver plate by such a gorgeous minion. Something she hadn’t felt often lately.

          She smiled, stretched her left arm and fluttered her fingers. Those chairs were so deep that you could’t get up without looking like getting out of the armpit of a gorilla. The boy helped her out, a surprised look on his face when she appeared to spring on her feet like a young damsel. Those morning fitness sessions were paying off after all.

          “Show me everything”, she said with her best doe eyes.
          Come on, Pol. He could be your son, she thought. The youngest, added her mother’s disincarnate voice.

          #3307

          Sanso was tied securely on a Louis XVI chair, inside an ornate room kept mostly in the dark by heavy embroidered curtains that smelt of celery.
          He was craving for a tomato juice to go with the smell, and could hardly focus on an empty stomach.

          He could have easily escaped from his predicament, but he was curious about his captors, and the reason why they had him abducted after he went back to his little love nest in the R&R B&B where he’d hoped to meet again the mysterious Lady Cucumber. That was his name for her.
          He was hopeless with names, and although he was sure he had heard hers before, he preferred to remember people by associations. With Irina, that was Cucumbers. There! he thought, another proof of the brilliance of this method, as I remembered her name… Iris? Eyrin?, well, Lady Cucumber.
          He’d made love to many a lady in his life, a lady in Salmon, even a Lady Mermaid, a Lady Gingerale, a Lady Panty, a ladyboy even. He could go on for hours thinking about them, but the lady Cucumber had spun a spell around his head it seemed.

          After his last mission on a rescue with Miss Bob and her Sponges Squarepanties team, he’d run back for the 2222 B&B.
          No sooner had he arrived that heaven and hell broke loose and things went to rules and “do that or else”‘s, all things he abhorred with a passion. The links, and keys for his chains, that he could suffer, so he focused on it for awhile.

          He was woken up by a splash of ice cold water on his pants and a raucous voice in his face. Better that than the reverse, he chuckled to himself.

          “Something funny now? Tell us, where did she go?”

          He knew better than to feign ignorance, so he preferred to feign knowledge, which he’d found usually worked miracles.

          “Of course. She stole something from you…”
          “Damn right, she steal it, and we want back it.”

          The accent was difficult to place, he’d known so many inter-dimensional dialects that sometimes it was hard for him to remember.
          He would have said some northern Chinese dialect accent, with a bit of kiwi.

          He needed to know a bit more before disappearing. His curiosity was aroused by the implication that what she stole was certainly valuable. What could it be, a revolutionary hairsplitter, a butt-fluffer, a fringe freckler, ah! his head was teaming with great possibilities it was making him dizzy.

          “Don’t be silly Mister Sanso, she steal it robot very precious and advance technology.”
          and before he could reply:
          “Yes we read your mind, I confirm… You have silly thinks Mr Sanso.”

          He was starting to think now was a good time to get lost, and started to confuse their mindreader with energy patterns otherwise called gibberish thoughts.

          The chains and ropes gave way easily.
          His next move was to phase out of the room, but instead he managed to fall on his butt, in the middle of mocking looking Chinese in tuxedos and purple bow ties.

          “Ah, I see, you have some antiportation technology…” Sanso was a fair player. The temptation was big to run for another exit, if only for the exhilaration of a chase in the corridors of that strange place, but his stomach was thinking otherwise.

          “I see you are vely fond of kewcomber, we are no animawls, we will give you delishius kewcomber.”

          Minutes after, he was thrown with a certain form of Chinese ceremony in a small cubic windowless room. On a table next to the door, was his meal apparently.

          He recoiled in horror when he opened the lid covering his plate. The strong odour of garlic pricked his nose.
          “No way! Fucking jokers!”
          That was even worse than to eat boiled cucumber chunks in spicy sauce.
          Swimming in soy sauce were slices of chewy sea cucumbers that looked more like fat juicy leeches from a filthy bog.

          He ate reluctantly, arguing with his stomach about the benefits of the collagen in said sea cucumbers, and at the same time realized the Chinese mobsters were probably from the Chinese Robot Incorporated Mission Eternal, a renowned corporation that had managed to free countless people from menial jobs thanks to prodigious advances in robotics.
          The Lady Cucumber was suddenly more than a mysterious beauty, she was also a mysterious wanted beauty, and he couldn’t wait to… But he had to guard his thoughts for now.

          He looked at the bamboo chopsticks with a sly smile. He had not said his last word, and the person who could boast of having Sanso detained was not born yet.

          #3303

          Moanie found out early during her transition that she had the opportunity to come back into life —well, in a way.

          When that regrettable accident had happened that had cost her her life, she had vowed to enact a terrible revenge on her twin sister.

          Her corpse had been lying for years in the bogs of the island, and had changed her into a pretty fashionable mummy, with a fondness for arousing scarves. Her green olivine complexion was fantastic now, and she couldn’t wait to veer her way back to life.

          #3301

          Without Mirabelle and Lisa around, trying to encourage her all the time but succeeding merely in making her feel harassed, Fanella had relaxed enough to achieve a remarkable degree of success with her teleport and projection practice. Projecting had been easy enough actually, but a full teleport was another matter. But she was encouraged by her successes with the projections, and the few seconds of full body teleporting here and there that she had managed.
          Her attempts to return to her original physical focus timeframe had been futile; there were mental and emotional blocks and too much associated baggage getting in her way, and her lack of a specific intention with other timeframes had led not unsurprisingly to random times and places which had been unsettling ~ at times alarming ~ resulting in her finding herself back where she started in no time at all.
          Fanella decided to pick a date and a location and be firm about it and unwavering.
          She chose a date and a location based on an old battered book she had found on the shelf in Lisa’s house. It was called Circle of Eights and Other Stories. Many a happy hour had she spent reading the book down by the river, a gloriously feast of imaginative tales, with no dull steadfast tiresome normal plot or structure. It had appealed to her greatly, and sparked many fantastic ideas and wonderings. She felt particularly attracted to the tale about the island in 2121, and decided to make that her specific teleport destination.

          #3299
          Jib
          Participant

            It hadn’t been easy to obtain Sadie a pay raise. The management always seemed to look for new ways to cut the costs wanted to give her an extra for the good job. Although this time, LP could put the golden balls and the rebirth of the network in the balance. They could have had enough to give the whole team a decent salary. Indeed, it wasn’t really fair that the young queens were not paid at all. Unless of course you counted props, wigs and fake eyelashes. Eventually, Linda got Sadie the extra and the raise she had asked for, and new contracts for the three young queens. She shall not forget the tears of joy in their eyes when she announced them they were part of the big Queer Network family. It had made her feel good and generous even if it was not her money she was giving.

            Linda Pol wrapped her luscious lips around an authentic straw and sucked up voraciously the glowing rainbow cocktail. Mmmmm, this new Peas’cocktail is divine, she thought. After the buzz created by their last network and that mysterious quest of Saint Germain for Peasland, peas-thingies were everywhere. She put the glass back on the edge of the Jacuzzi and looked at the little magenta umbrella for a moment. She didn’t know what was the most pleasing, the bubbles gently massaging her back in the water, or the gorgeous scenery of the Merry Otter resort in Maui. Linda Pol hadn’t had good vacation in a long long time, and if she had been in vacation this place could totally be one of her first choices destinations.

            Unfortunately, she wasn’t there for vacations or relaxation. She wasn’t there for exercise either. She had been asked to attend a conference and meet with one of those new Random Science scientists specialized in the ambergris tiles. As if it was a joke from the Universe, her name was Amber Graystone. But Linda Pol had long learned that there were no such thing as unusualness, you just hadn’t seen enough of the world.

            A boy came to refill her cocktail. Girl, you spend too much time looking at young bums, she thought, ageing beliefs were everywhere. She was feeling drowsy with the bubbles and the alcohol, almost dreaming of whales and ambergris.

            “… Graystone is taking her job too seriously”, said a man’s voice.

            Linda Pol opened her eye, just enough so that her fake eyelashes could still hide she was awake. When she was young, her curiosity had put her in trouble more times than the number of her pair of shoes. She had developed strategies and an incredible butt recognition skill. It had helped her win many contests in her youth and avoid boring conversations later on.

            The two men wore bath suits. Linda could clearly see that one of the butts was slack and lifeless. Almost avoiding the contact with the fabric. An American butt fed with hamburgers and soda. The rest of the silhouette seemed to naturally spread out from its central component.

            The other one moved like a mustang, the shiny red lycra was only here to help you see more clearly the outline of the flesh, not hide it. The curve of the bottom of the spine indicated a Russian ancestry. She felt a rush of adrenaline. She loved how Russians rolled their Rs. They could do many things with a rolling tongue.

            “You want me to take carrre of herrr ?” asked a voice carrying ice.

            “No, just remind her to whom she owes her subsidies. And her results.”

            #3298

            “Good time for a segment of refreshment” was Sanso’s words of goodbye, as he left them retching sea water out of their system, and taking welcome gulps of air in the fresh cave of la Sormiou, just a few knots off Marseille’s harbour.

            Linda Paul was impatiently chain-smoking outside while waiting for them near the dildo-truck, excited for a follow-up confidence sequence about the last show.
            In truth, she would have loved to lead them herself in their adventures, but despite her saying the contrary, had chickened out at the last minute. A few months ago, the show’s had moved away from the initial pitch which was supposed to have only her as the main cast and star. It then shifted into the broadcast pilot with the other junior queens competition.
            Her personal guru, Ganeshki had told her it had to do with beliefs of ageing, and she would have plucked his eyelashes out of his head. That was no thing to say to a lady.
            But then, he was a bit right.
            She crushed the butt under her high-heels. Nasty habit.
            Not the butts, she tittered at the thought, but the chain-smoking. A fucking lot of beliefs with it too, she didn’t need Ganeshki to realise it.

            At last, they all emerged, not looking particularly good, even if she noticed the effort to puff out their wet wigs.

            “Oh, honey, is that kelp in your wig?” she disdainfully picked up a bit of algae from Terry’s hair. “Well, you all look…” she searched for words and broadened her smile “smashing!”.

            “Sadie, honey, you did such a marvellous job”. She leaned closer lowering her voice to confide “That wasn’t a piece of cake, I will give you that”

            “Well, Linda, now you mention it, I’d like a raise. And less working hours.”

            #3296

            “Mission’s a success, your island awaits”

            This time, the Management’s message seemed strangely clear, and Irina didn’t care to decipher it, in case it meant something else completely. The idea of the island was all she needed at the time.

            “A simple Congratulations! wouldn’t have hurt them”, she was a bit disappointed, after all the efforts, but for now, an illegally staffed island was as good as that.

            “Mr R, pack our things, we are retiring!”
            “Very well Madam. Meaning no disrespect Madam, but is retirement an appropriate word Madam?”
            She quizzically raised her eyebrow, to which, right on cue, the robot continued
            “Madam is much too young to retire.”
            She sighed, affecting a pose. “Well, I know. But this 2222 isn’t really all the fuss they’re making about it”
            “I would agree with Madam, Madam always has the most astute perception.”
            “Well, thank you Mr R.” she giggled happily.

            She sniffed suspiciously at the air around “Did you have ambergris for dinner Mr R?”

            #3295

            “Wait, wait!”
            When Jonbert in his crab suit arrived on the spot, most of the life had deserted the place to go for a half-brain peaceful sleep, except a few remaining inebriated whales making some more ambergris gyrating around the fading crystal. At times, the hologram could still be faintly perceived.

            “It’s so unfair, I’ve invested so much in this quest to see it fail now and have other reap the reward! I have a question, answer me!”

            The St Germain hologram seemed roused by the word question, if not by the emotional request.

            “A question… Mmm, sounds tempting, I didn’t really get a good question in ages, not to be rude with the previous ones, but well…” he shrugged.
            “Alright, alright, a few questions but be quick with it, I’m nearly done packing my data to transcend to Peasland.”

            Despite the draw to ask more about Peasland, Jonbert was steadfast in his resolve and asked the question that had been on mind rehearsed many a time, hopeful for a mind-blowing answer.

            “Life everlasting is at hand; all I need is to refine enough gold to go through time…”
            “Oh, or simply a bit of gugleshopping would do”
            “What?”
            “Nevermind, must be a data interference”
            “How do I manage that? Can you teach me transmutation?”
            “Well, sure I can, it probably would help, actually I just did it again right here about half an hour ago.”
            “Where is the gold? Where is it?”
            “It’s in the heart, that’s where true transmutation works. Maybe you should listen to some music, I hear a hit song is on its way.”

            Jonbert had the vague feeling he was being mocked, if not by Saint Germain, by fate or worse, his own attempts at a futile quest.

            “But seriously, endings are not so bad you know” the hologram went on “sometimes some experiences are like being trapped in a crystal. I was trapped in a crystal, in a previous life, a long time ago you know… But I digress… You see, new life sparks new creativity. I suggest you make peace with your life and go on with the rest of it, otherwise you’ll find out you have missed it completely. No amount of fountain of youth is going to make you feel better, not in this state. But the reverse is true, the more you will enjoy and inhabit your present, the longer you will live, without even ageing.”

            It surely wasn’t an answer he was expecting. Nobody would have dared give him such answer.

            “Take it as you are not dead yet, this capacity to be surprised is a great feeling… Now I must bid you farewell my friend. You had indeed some great questions…”

            “Wait!” the unexpected words had stirred him somehow and Jonbert had a sudden idea “Tell me a bit more about this Peasland place,… are they in need of a person in a place of authority? Can I come along?”

            “I don’t see why not. Let me recalibrate that crystal, and we’ll be there in a minute.”

            And with a flash of light, the hologram and the crab-man disappeared to the relief of Belen who was monitoring the scene with interest mixed with concern.

            “That was unexpected. And bloody hell, I’m dead. Those humans know nothing.
            Well, look at the Now, it’s high time I go back to Peter, he and the kids must be worried green sick…”

            #3293

            The whales’ dance on the dark bluish background lit by the tiniest reflection on floating seahorses and other sea creatures, made the scenery look like an eerie night skyline, full of moving stars.
            The added feeling of weightlessness was empowering, and soon, the three queens passed side glances, barely interested by the words of wisdom of the hologram, and catching each other’s mind, almost asked their question at the same time.

            Terry was the quickest this time, “Please, please, can you do a rendition of the Name Game with your disco ball lights, we’re all dying to do a dance! Please?”

            Interestingly, the Hologram didn’t show any hesitation as it started to sing, and the three queens were all glowing as they adjusted their wigs, fins and other appendages.

            The Name Game
            Terry!
            Terry, Terry bo Berry Bonana fanna fo Ferry
            Fee fy mo Merry, Terry!
            Sadie! Sadie, Sadie bo Badie Bonana fanna fo Fadie
            Fee fy mo Madie, Sadie!
            Come on everybody!
            I say now let’s play a game
            I betcha I can make a rhyme
            Out of anybody’s name …

            The lights were on, and the dresses glittered, Terry in the spur of the moment added kelp extensions to her wig to match the sardine tones of her suit, while Sadie’s only concession to fashion was a little glowing golden jellyfish that seemed to match her bob cut, and made for a funny pulsating hat.

            Adamus was on, and unstoppable

            The first letter of the name,
            I treat it like it wasn’t there
            But a B or an F, or an M will appear
            And then I say Bo add a B
            Then I say the name and Bonana fanna and a fo
            And then I say the name again
            With an F very plain and a fee fy and a mo
            And then I say the name again
            With an M this time
            And there isn’t any name that I can’t rhyme.

            A chorus of dolphins tried to join, having Consuela burst hysterically into peals of unstoppable laughter.

            Consuela!
            Consuela, Consuela bo Bonsuela Bonana fanna fo Fonsuela
            Fee fy mo Monsuela, Consuela!
            But if the first two letters are ever the same,
            I drop them both and say the name
            Like Bob, Bob drop the Bs Bo ob
            For Fred, Fred drop the Fs Fo red
            For Mary, Mary drop the Ms Mo ary
            That’s the only rule that is contrary.

            Maurana was shaking her head in seducing moves, pretending not to die of envy of the others, and expecting her turn.
            And the music went on…

            Okay? Now say Bo: Bo
            Now Belen without a B: Elen
            Then Bonana fanna fo: bonana fanna fo
            Then you say the name again with an F very plain: Felen
            Then a fee fy and a mo: fee fy mo !
            Then you say the name again with an M this time: Melen
            And there isn’t any name that you can’t rhyme
            Maurana! Maurana, Maurana bo Baurana Bonana fanna fo Faurana
            Fee fy mo Aurana, Maurana!

            And they continued with all sorts of names for quite a while, even some of the whales’ and dolphins’ who were obviously enjoying the interlude.

            :fleuron:

            “Did you get all that on video?” Maurana asked Sadie.
            “Of course I did, the ezapper got it all. Linda Paul and the network won’t believe their eyes, it’s some heavy material! Even better than gold bars!” Sadie could barely believe what had just happened.

            The whales seemed to have been so thrilled that after a moment of silence, a smaller one broke off the cycle, went to the huge crystal and took a heart shaped shard of it to offer them.

            “I guess that’s their way of burning a DVD, what do you think?” Consuela was blissfully hopeless with technology, but could also have some moments of brilliance.

            “We should go now” Sadie said looking up from the ezapper “it looks like some unidentified giant blue crab is coming at us, and we better let the whales handle it.”

            “Are we going through that awful sewer again?” Maurana was starting to get green at the idea.

            “I don’t think so, I had Sanso pick us up at the underwater cave thanks to Consuela surprise reconnaissance mission. He just arrived and he just texted me his location. It’s not far from here. He seems to have managed to herd a few octopi to carry us across. Always surprisingly resourceful this one, I might start to like him…”
            Snapping from her emotions, she continued
            “Time to say your adieus to 2222 ladies. Tonight, everyone’s a winner. We’re going to be famous.”

            #3292

            Hovering over the whales’ ballet, the St Germain Hologram very gracefully answered the question about his arms, in a flattering way that made Sadie slightly blush, even adding some mind-boggling clues about his Atlantean past lives.
            Interestingly, that answer was very profound and mind expanding, so much so that she was a bit dizzied.

            “May I ask another question?” she asked sheepishly.

            “You just did, mon petit. Now, please ask your last question so that I can transcend to this mysterious dimension called Peasland that I can’t wait to explore.”

            #3291

            Jonbert’s arms nearly fell, when his pet robot blurted out the news.
            WHAT?!”
            It could only mean one thing, someone was purposely sabotaging his efforts to gain life everlasting. How else could the keys have been activated in the presence of the crystal. He had specifically designed it to be activated by his own DNA.
            Good thing at least it had sent a signal to the central computer of the submarine, otherwise he would have been in the dark before the questions were exhausted.

            “Bloody buggers will ruin all my chances with their silly questions” There was no time to think, only for action. He buttoned his kilt, buckled his heavy studded leather belt, and flushed the toilet where he was sitting and shouted “Bring my exosuit! No! Not the one with the tentacles! No, not the clam-like one, dammit! Are you deaf or what, the one with the pincers!”

            #3287

            When the Whales had learnt from Belen that the Conch ritual would not be enacted, it set the tone of the Ceremony.
            Less ceremonious, and opening the Gates for a new Era of new learning based on trust and self-discoveries.

            The Dances started, and enthralling gyrations flowed, enhancing the visions induced by the pulverized red algae floating around the seabed. Octopi were drumming in cadence, the Whales solemnly turning, undisturbed by the dolphins high on the algae who were tittering stupidly.

            In the middle of the cycle, the gorgeous crystal was pulsating and glowing.

            #3283

            When Huhu arrived at his destination, Irina was sunbathing to the last rays of a big red gorgeous sunset that painted the waves in iridescent shades of purple.
            At the same time, the sun’s course had already started a new day on the shores of New Zealand, where her sister was living, and she surely would be thrilled. Long had she waited for the 2222-2-22 marker.
            Here, in Hawaii, they would still be in 2222-2-21, for a few more hours.
            Irina started to shiver. 22°C her watch read. As if she needed to be any more quirky about this date…

            “Good boy!” she said to the parrot, taking the key it was carrying. Huhu tittered in contentment, cracking some of the pistachios she fed him distractedly.

            She’d just received additional information from the Management. Elusive as usual, and leaving a great deal to interpretation, including the interdiction.

            They’d promised to get her her dream island as a retirement plan. Some said it was the original land of the mermaids (who used to have as much feathers as Rio Carnival’s samba dancers), right off Italy’s Amalfi’s coast. Among its perks, it boasted to incorporate 8 staff, and a private grotto — that, if anything else than her fine waist line, would surely entice Sanso into other steamy booty calls.
            She’d seen the pictures of the properties, her first thought though was that she needed to shoot the interior decorator. In short, it was almost her moral duty to get it, and change the decor. On the whole, she was convinced the island would do her good.

            So, when she looked back at the previous instructions to see how good she’d done on her mission’s objectives, she shrugged a little. She’d understood instinctively right when it was delivered that it was a clever cipher, especially given the late date shift. So she had reinterpreted the actual commands, and leisurely waited for the travellers to appear, and get comfy. By now, she was certain they trusted her telepathic commands well enough, so that solved the trust conundrum.
            Basically, she was a major proponent of her own interpretation of old Ho’oponopono rituals. Instead of the usual mantra “I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you.” hers was a bit more straightforward and was around the lines of “Green sickness to you. Peace be with you, and bugger off.
            Said a few times with proper intonation and inner work, and it was know to her to alter dramatically any block or resistance into a great flow of pure unfettered energy. So she had adamant faith that all she needed to do to complete her mission was to focus on herself and solve the resistance within by letting go.

            The last message was short.

            22 the code * whale that * BO

            It could only mean one thing. 22 was a clever cipher meaning conundrum as in a catch 22, but also an obvious reference to the temperature. So it could only mean one thing: tamper with the code on the 22nd, and send it on the way to the whales, with a bug on it.

            “Mr R, please, fetch!”

            The discrete, yet always present robot caught the key with grace, and on her careful instructions, proceeded to alter the code of the key.

            Irina was enjoying herself immensely, and found it a pity nobody could witness her true genius. “The ones who’ll read that key later, well… they are in for such a wild goose chase!”
            The second part of St Germain’s encoded hologram was now ripe with wonderful and bewildering information about blubbits and the magic kingdom of Peasland with obscure and arcane references of magic numbers like 57, that would have anybody sane turn mad as a hatter in no time. Hopefully the whales would be immune to the nonsense, but probably not humans.

            Now was the final part of the plan.

            “Mr R?”
            “Madam?”
            “I hope you are ready for this delicate reinsertion mission. Do you still have that octopus suit of yours ready?”
            “Of course, Madam. Right away Madam.”

            #3281

            “Isn’t that the greatest thing about those underwater goggles”
            After the shark threat had vanished, Sadie had contemplated for quite some time her new-found underwater abilities, and how to shift the weight of her body gracefully underwater. And then, she realized she could roll her eyes in the most peculiar way, with the membrane of the transparent skin massaging her eyeballs in the most relaxing manner. She’d never felt so good about rolling her eyes, and that was saying something.

            “BrllllSssadiieeee” came the urging sound in bubbles and gurgles, with a hint of despair dragging her out of the lovely eyeball massage session. The underwater acoustics needed some fine-tuning, so she had her wits to thank for understanding quickly the situation.
            Despite what might have looked like her sending messages on her ezapper, at the same time she was having in-her-body experiences, she was merely testing experimental echo-localization to pinpoint the spot where the pod of whales would be most likely found. The feedback buzzing had prompted her minutes ago that it had found 6 potential spots, and one only which was the most probable and located less than an hour’s diving distance. One thing she knew was that you had to be careful with automatic location instructions, so she’d run a second independent check and was waiting for the results when the alarmed look of Maurana turned and rolled in front of her face, almost giving her a fright.

            “Gbbbllood gracious, Maurana, what’s the matter?”
            “Gbblbl wooohoooglllbb bbbllrsfffftt plk plk plk skwooobbll!”

            “Oh, for fucks sake,” she telepathied “will you stop nattering in French, be more articulate.”
            “The others are drowned and I no longer see them, it’s awful, what should we do?!” the thought came back with force and a bit of campiness.

            “Well, that would depend what it is you want” straight answers were not Sadie’s forte.
            “I want to have our party with costumes and dances, I want to be the black pearl of the Ocean, I want to have more glitter and less molluscs, more chic and less kelp…” she started to sob profusely, half-choking and breathing from her tears. “I want my friends, and to be back hooooome”
            “Bloody hell, Reggie, now is not the time to lose your shit, pull yourself together dammit.”

            The reaction was immediate, the telepathic swearing was so out-of-the-ordinary that Maurana looked twice at Sadie, with her bob cut surrounding her face like a heavenly halo. Suddenly self-conscious, Maurana started to reapply some waterproof mascara to cover the stains.

            “I found them,” said Sadie with infectious calm “the ezapper’s first scan took them for a pod of whales or octopi for some reason. Let’s go get them, then we go visit the whales. But first, you have to try this, it will soothe you…”, as she started to show some more rolling motion of her beautiful blue eyes.

            #3280

            The whitewashed blue trimmed village by the sea had an air of tranquility despite the abundance of colourful beach dresses and accessories draped outside the shops, and the red and blue parasols shading the cafe tables and chairs. Locals and holidaymakers strolled about, unhurried and relaxed, and the blue sea twinkled enticingly beyond, as if the street disappeared into the ocean. Mirabelle imagined shoppers carrying bags of vacation purchases wandering right into the water, perhaps to continue their strolling on the seabed, idly perusing it’s treasures and trinkets; wandering back out again on to another street somewhere, dripping at first and leaving little puddles in their wake.
            I wonder how deep you could go? she wondered, If you could walk on the ocean floor for as long as you liked?
            Lisa, however, was more interested in the shops and had disappeared into one of them, lured by the gaily coloured scarves. She chose two and held one in each hand, wondering which one would be more reassuring, more comforting. A scarf is something to hold on to in a storm, she thought ~ and then wondered where the thought had come from.

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