Just to give you an idea of the swampy mess Little Ben proposes setting the Sunny Valley Farm & Pet Cemetery next to – here’s a video from a section of Iron Creek a mile to two away from his proposed site (during a daytime scouting trip – video quality isn’t great, but you get the idea).
Laney, Beatrice, Wood and I may or may not have dampened our toes somewhere close to here, hard to tell with it being dark and all, during our flight!
Little Ben: “We’ll make an example of them. I am tired of kids drinking in Nevermore. You go left. Ryan goes right. I’ll take the path. Keep your walkies on, Hank will radio when the police arrive.”
We hardly dared to breathe until the crunching of gravel faded off into the distance. Peeling ourselves off the back of the shed, I peered with one eye around the corner to make sure they were really gone. Convinced we were alone I sunk down into a crouch and closed my eyes – trying in vain to calm my breathing.
Wood (whispering): “Since when did he start doing night patrols?”
Laney (her great coat rustling next to me): “Probably sacked the security guards to save money.”
Beatrice (chuckling): “Maybe the aliens called him.”
Laney (a quiet tink of metal on metal came from next to me): “Ha-ha! What do we do now Phoebe?”
Still gathering my wits after an unanticipated sprint across farmland, woodland, and Nevermore I thanked whatever god was listening that Little Ben never got a good look at us. We owe a lot to the university’s theater department for creating the misconception he was currently laboring under.
Me (my eyes still closed, my nose detecting cloves and cinnamon): “Come on guys, enough with the spiced rum, it does not increase your stealth stats.”
Not bothering to open my eyes I decided to assume the Tricornies looked my way guiltily and put the flask away (rather than finishing it off then putting it away – which sounded more like them). Though I suppose at this point it couldn’t hurt, they were already two flasks in when we made our escape.
Laney (first to notice the bobbing spheres of lights swarming on the top of the hill): “Guy’s alien spaceships!”
Me (turning to look at her): “Did you finish an entire flask on your own?”
Laney (pointing): “No. Look, aliens! Heading this way!”
We all stopped for a moment and turned the direction indicated by her index finger – indeed about a half dozen orbs of light were rapidly approaching. Mesmerized by their undulating movement we stilled, my brain trying to process what my eyes told me, the baying is what finally broke the spell.
Me (dropping the post hole digger): “Run!”
Me (grabbing the digger out of her hand and tossing it down): “We’ve been seen, RUN!”
Finally catching up with my conclusion the other three followed me in flight (to this day Beatrice remains thrilled she got to test her Grade A Beef Diversion – turns out farm dogs are indeed distracted when prime cuts are tossed their way).
No, things didn’t go sideways when Wood decided this evening was the perfect opportunity for pirate shenanigans – it was forked up from inception. We’d counted on the late hour and darkness to cover our slightly criminal endeavor which. Turns out it didn’t cut the mustard – someone spotted us about forty-five minutes into the execution of The Brace Affair. I don’t think the MacGregor’s hold with Little Ben’s lax ideas of security.
Thru sheer luck – for the MacGregor’s, not us – they’d cut us off from Beatrice’s car, so I lead us to familiar ground. Which is why the Tricornies were currently sharing a quiet flask behind a utility shed in Nevermore while I tried to figure a way out.
Pulling out my phone I texted my cousin.
Me: “Ok guys, lets head to the Crossroads.”
(My tricorn at sunset…)
Me: “You cannot be serious.”
Wood: “You lost the bet – thus you must wear a costume of my choosing.”
Beatrice and Laney both were staring at the pirate costume Wood held up for inspection. As costumes go, it was pretty nice – gold trimmed tricorne hat, leather bandolier, black velvet long coat – the whole shebang. I even owned a pair of black boots which wouldn’t look too bad with the entire ensemble.
However, I don’t think this was the wisest sartorial choice for planting casket analogs (i.e., rubber ducks) to demonstrate to my common sense challenged former manager the folly of using the particular patch of ground he’d chosen for a pet cemetery.
Me (grasping at straws): “It is well past Halloween.”
Wood: “No time like the present to settle up on an old debt.”
Three guesses what Wood wanted to trick-or-treat as when we were ten years old.
And the first two don’t count.
Apparently, I did not appreciate the level of loathing Wood still carried over his Labyrinth inspired Ludo costume he was required to wear the Halloween he lost the bet (I wore a facsimile of Sarah’s dress from the soap bubble scene).
Wood (a sly smile sliding over his lips): “Or are you a welsher?”
Crap. He was serious. Pulling out the whole Guys and Dolls, Sky Masterson thing. He’d spread it all over town (i.e., my family) that I welshed on the bet if I didn’t wear the pirate costume. Then I would really NEVER hear the end of it.
Me (with an air of resignation): “Hand it over.”
Laney: “Wood, honey, that’s a little mean making her dress up.”
Wood (brightening up): “Don’t worry I got a costume for each of us!”
Laney: “Umm, what?”
Turns out the local university’s theater department, to raise money, rents old costumes out to alumni and they just happened to have four pirate costumes.
Wood: “We can’t let Morticia have all the fun!”
Not sure why Laney and Beatrice were shocked. Wood wants everyone to be as happy as he is, and having Fun is a great way to achieve this goal. And tonight he’d decided that a pirate theme would kill two birds with one stone. I smiled at Laney and Beatrice with a touch of mischief in my eye, misery does love company.
Outfits in hand we trooped back up to the Lavender Lady to don our costumes, and with the judicious use of safety pins, the clothes fit us reasonably well. Then Tricornies (wordplay on the tricorn hat and corny – though I suppose if I need to explain the funny, it’s not that funny…) decided they wanted a more authentic piratey look, so they raided Beatrice’s collection of curiosities for beads and baubles to complete their outfits.
Thankfully “we” all agreed to leave the cutlasses and pistols at home figuring they’d get in the way of our digging. Though flasks of spiced rum were deemed a necessary accessory.
Because who ever heard of a pirate without rum?
Since I lost the bet, Wood was thrilled to remind me, he designated me the Chief Escape Artist or in nonpiratey terms – the designated driver. Which worked for me as I suspected they’d already taken a tipple whilst we were wiggling into our costumes.
They confirmed this suspicion when we exited the Lavender Lady, at eleven thirty at night, and started belting out a cobbled together sea shanty:
“Two feet at sea and none on shore,
A Pirate’s life for me!
Our ships’ named the HMS Pompadour!
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!
When we explore we always cause an uproar,
A Pirate’s life for me!
Now we are bound for Nevermore!
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!”
I wonder what Ms. Hettie thought of the procession down her back walk.
Aunt Pearl’s sense of humor…This is what was waiting for Wood and I at the next Sunday dinner. We of course had to take it out for a spin!
Unknown Number: “Tonight’s the night!”
He must be calling from an exam room phone again.
Wood (excitement oozing across the line): “Meet you in The Map Room in a half hour.”
Wood: “The Brace Affair is a go!”
He. Hung. Up. On. Me.
Well, this bodes…something.
On the plus side executing The Brace Affair might help to relieve the pins and needles I’ve been sitting on while waiting for the Lone Ranger to face his fears. He had four days left on the unspoken timetable.
On the downside, I’d answered Wood’s call on speakerphone and Mrs. Lebondowsky heard the entire exchange. She will delight in disseminating this piece of news amongst the rest of my regulars at the Center.
Mrs. Lebondowsky (trying for casual): “Hot date dear?”
Me (rolling with it): “Something like that.”
Mrs. Lebondowsky (smiling): “Well don’t give the barn away. Leave him wanting more – you’ll get a second date that way.”
Fortunately, she was my last fare today, and I only had three blocks left before I could drop her off. So I goosed the gas and hoped her advise stopped with that particular tidbit.
Seems Lady Luck rode with me tonight because Mrs. Lebondowsky went on to regale me about the last real date her Dear Frank took her on in 1965 (it sounded way nicer than any I’d enjoyed recently).
Only fifteen minutes late for Wood’s deadline (and ten bucks richer – Mrs. Lebondowsky tips well), I pulled the Princess up to the back gate of the Lavender Lady’s grounds. This maneuver meant a much shorter walk to the Map Room which significantly reduced my chances of inadvertently running into Ms. Hettie.
Pushing the gate open, I navigated the six steps and three stairs to the door and entered the redesignated shed. The lovely scent of curry greeted me before my friends got the chance or in fact noticed my arrival.
Me (surprised): “Laney? What are you doing here?”
Laney (turning my way, a wry smile on her face): “Hey. Wood convinced me this would be great Fun.”
The way she eyed the line of manual post-hole-diggers leaning against the bookshelves made clear her skepticism of her husband’s claim. Wood, entirely oblivious to his wife’s doubts, was currently helping Beatrice divvy up a mountain of rubber ducks into four separate piles. Not wanting to break their focus I decided to help the proceedings along by dishing up the boxes of take-out (which would keep Wood from hoarding the panang and Laney from skimping on her vegetables). When the two duck sorters finished their complicated and esoteric rubber ducky allotment algorithm, they swept each stack into separate sacks. Which allowed me to swoop in and place dinner on the table before they could fill it up with something else.
Wood (surprised when food appeared before him): “Morticia! When did you get here?”
Me (shaking my head and laughing a little): “When the ducks were still in mound position.”
Wood, who’d elected himself Capitan of The Brace Affair, started going over the refined strategy – between mouthfuls.
Wood (finishing his first bite): “Each of us will have a bag of about thirty-ish rubber ducks. We’ll use the post-hole-diggers to dig up a cylinder of dirt, then we’ll plant a duck and then dump the dirt back on top.”
Me (taking advantage of Wood’s now full mouth): “Where did the rubber ducks come from? I’ll pay you back for them. (Looking between Wood and Laney)”
Beatrice (waving at Wood to keep chewing, snagged my attention): “Don’t worry about it. I’m donating the ducks I’ve collected from geocaching to the cause. I needed more space in here anyways.”
Glancing up at the shelves above her head I noticed several large empty vases.
Me (a food coma starting to creep up on me): “Why tonight?”
Laney (faster on the draw than Wood): “The first storm of the season is predicted to hit this weekend. If you want those ducks to rise to the occasion, this is your best shot.”
Wood (now able to chime in): “And the moon is full tonight so we won’t need to use our flashlights as much.”
Beatrice: “I even bought a couple of steaks in case we need to distract some dogs.”
Beatrice: “Works in books. So someone must have tried it out at some point, otherwise, why would it keep appearing in print?”
Laney (laughing): “One minor detail, this is a silly plan, but you promised me a ridiculous amount of Fun…”
A wicked smile lit up Wood’s face. Without a word, he stood up and walked a few paces to where my extra boxes were stacked and pulled several garment bags off the top. Shoving his dinner plate aside he laid them down in front of him.
Wood (unzipping the zipper with a flourish): “Like this.”
While taking Mrs. Lewis’s cat, Mitzy, to the Vet I found this on their bulletin board…
Little Ben’s plans for the Sunny Valley Farm expansion for Nevermore. His plans always sound good, that’s where he gets you! They always sound reasonable until you get down to the nuts and bolts, that’s where they fall apart.
Like placing the pet cemetery on ground which floods regularly.
Hopefully the Brace Affair will change his mind.