(7:50 am Nov 07, 2005)
Pirate. Teach. Bonnet, Morgan. Bonny. Watling. Catt. Jack.
Blackbeard's Tower. Morgans Bluff. Cat Island. Watling's Island.
The Stede Bonnet. A mail boat that made the Nassau to Abaco run in times past.
Nassau, and the rest of the Bahamas, has many ties to historical pirates.
Ezza had been dreaming and searching for pirate gold since his earliest memories. At first just in his back yard and in his imagination, but when he got a little older and was allowed to roam the island with his cohorts, he started in on Blackbeard's tower. Then, some of the other forts. Fort Winton, Fort Montague, Fort Charlotte, Fort Fincastle. The forts of Potter's Cay and the small cays close by.
Later, he started searching in caves he found in the bush. Again, he started close to home with smaller caves in the neighbourhoods near his home. Then others around the island including the big ones out around Clifton and Hunts Cave.
Later still, he got into scuba diving and did some explorations in the island's blue holes, and on the reefs.
(8:08 am Nov 07, 2005)
He had never to this date found anything except in his dreams. Oh, he had found a lot of treasure in his dreams. But here in the real world? Nothing doing. I mean, finding treasure is not that easy at all.
He was sweating now. The hole he was digging in his back yard was about five feet deep now. There was a large pile of soil and rocks growing next to the hole. On the other side of the hole lay the lifeless body of his doberman, The Knight. He loved The Knight dearly. He was crying as he dug. Anyone watching would be hard pressed to tell though as the sweat was running down his brow and mingling with his tears.
His shovel dug into what seemed like rotten wood. He noticed some green colouring to the soil. He bent down in the hole and began digging with his fingers. Something glinted. He dug some more. He found two gold coins and what appeared to be a cylinder of wax. His heart raced. His heart sang. His heart was broken.
He imagined that he had found two gold dubloons. He ran inside and got three large zip lock bags and put each item in a bag and sealed them. He ran them back inside and hid them in his attic before returning to his back yard to finish burying his friend.
(8:24 am Nov 07, 2005)
(5:29 pm Nov 07, 2005)
Ezza got home from work and went straight to his attic and took down the three plastic bags. He took them into his room and locked the door. He drew the curtains and engaged the force fields and his cloaking devices.
He carefully took out the coins and rubbed them a bit with a soft cloth. There was a hissing and the coin started smoking. In a swirling cloud, a genie appeared. (Just kidding.) It was a dubloon.
Next he started in on the cylinder. He used a knife and scraped off a little from one end. I was indeed wax as he had thought. He continued scraping the wax carefully.
On removing the wax, he was left with what seemed to be an animal skin of some kind all rolled up. He carefully unrolled it. On one side was some writing he could not quite make out. On the other was what appeared to be a map of some sort.
He knew in his heart that this was what he had been searching for since his childhood. Well, at least the key to what he had been searching for.
Marble.
You got marble tiles, marble counter tops, marble columns, marble cutting boards, marble statues. All well and good. Unless the statues don't have arms.
We will not concern ourselves with this sort of marble. Sorry I brought it up.
You got pippys, snakeys, tars, cat eyes, steelys, glasseys, cloudies. You got biggies, jumbos, double jumbos, triple jumbos.
You already know about top season and kite season. These are your weapons for marble season. Sometimes you need some wire for marble season as well.
(6:19 pm Nov 07, 2005)
When Bruddah Bing and Bruddah Boom walked in to see Big Sal, he was shooting marbles in the dirt with his son Frankie. He motioned to them to stand over by the garden wall while he finished his game.
They sauntered over the lush grass and stood in the shade of the high wall and watched the rest of the game.
Frankie was shooting and from the looks of things, he was way ahead. Big Sal generally took it easy on his young son. Letting him win in most things, sometimes by a big margin, sometimes making it interesting. Very rarely, he would win. A boy had to learn how to lose as well as how to win.
Frankie hit a few more marbles out of the ring. That kid was getting better all the time. Big Sal better watch out or he would be losing for real on a regular basis. Finally, he missed and Big Sal got down on his knees to shoot. Clack, clack, clack. He cleared the ring in short order.
Frankie's face fell.
"Go on inside now Frankie and finish your homework. I gotta talk with your uncles here for a while. I'll come in and get you when I finish talking and we can shoot some more if it is not dark."
Frankie ran across the lawn and into the cabana. Big Sal walked over. Bruddah Bing and Bruddah Boom stood a little straighter.
"What's this I hear that you two are so upset about? Some soldier captured by a human and when you try to free him, he turns on you tow and frees the human? Say it ain't so boys."
"Oh, it's so Sal. Uncle Albert wants you to give him a call and get him in on the meet."
"He knows about this?"
"Yea, we were talking to him on his cell on out way back down. He thinks it could be serious. Something about the old tales. Wants us to meet down in the cellars."
"OK, I'll call him. If he wants to meet in the cellars, it really must be serious.
Girls. Women. Island Gals. Now ya talkin. Bimini gal, Briland gal. Abaco gal. Exuma gal. San Sal gal. Long Island gal. Andros gal. Cat Island gal. Acklins gal. Eleuthera gal. Inagua gal. West End gal. Nassau gal. (Bain Town gal, Fox Hill gal, Valley gal, Adelaide gal, Gambier gal.) Sweet island women all.
But no longer. Melody, she was the one for Bruno. The only one for him. He was way behind on his word count now. So far today he had not written anything on his novel. There were any number of pages of gushy poems and love songs strewn about his table, but now words had gone onto his disk.
If he wasn't so happy, the doubts he had had several times today about his ability to finish his nano novel this year would have been on the verge of bringing him down.
What a pair they made. A Melody and a Beat. Sweet music. That's what they made together. That's what they were together. Bruno was eight miles high.
He had stayed out with Melody until the dawn and her insistence on leaving to get ready for work. Bruno had asked her if she could take a day off and she had smiled sweetly but said nothing doing.
And so he had gone home and crashed for a few hours of sweet dreams and woken up and made a slam bam and tried to work on his book. Nothing doing. An urge struck him and he took out paper and a calligraphy pen and some ink and had started in on his poems and songs.
Most he would probably not let her see. At least not for a while. He gathered them up now and placed them in a wooden box shaped like a small pirates chest and bound with bronze straps.
Then he fired up leo and abiword and tried to get into his book again.
(7:00 pm Nov 07, 2005)
He wanted to write but he wanted to rock. Perhaps some mood music might help. These days though, he was trying to spend his time with live music or free music pretty much exclusively. Live music was out of the question. He decided to tune in to bysa radio and see what they were streaming tonight.
---
Bing, Boom, and Sal were down in the cellar, waiting and tasting some wines when Uncle Albert showed up. He said he was so sorry for being late but that a traffic light had been on the fritz again and that traffic was backed up for miles as a result.
Uncle Albert was one of the oldest soldiers on the island. He was also one of the most knowledgeable and one of the sharpest. Both in terms of his wit and intellect and sometimes just as importantly, in terms of his biters.
He was the only soldier Big Sal would even consider giving way to on occasion.
Horse. Now Abaco has wild horses. There is a book for children called Jingo: Wild horse of Abaco by Jocelny Arundel. At least that is what Amazon has just informed me. I know we had it read to us as children in school. Nassau has horses. Freeport has Horses. Briland has horses.
There used to be a horse racing track in Nassau, but, no more. There used to be stables on Paradise Island, but, no more.
The google search temporal hole is threatening.
Now, why bring up horses in the middle of the scene with the four soldiers? Guess for yourself.
Sal took the lead. "Now boys, I know you are generally tow of the most reliable soldiers, but I find this crazy yarn of your somewhat had to believe, if you know what I mean."
"Sure, Sal, we know what you mean, we would not have believed it if someone was to have told such a cockamamie story to us. I mean, I know my first reactions would have been to wonder what it was they were drinking and in what vast quantities." said Bruddah Bing.
"Precisely, so you see the horns of this dilemma I find myself caught on."
"Yeah we know how hard it is to believe, but I know what I know, and I know that we are giving you the straight scoop Big Sal. Honest."
"Well, I probably wouldn't believe you even though I trust you guys with my life, but Uncle Albert gives me pause. Uncle Albert, why are you so interested in this cockamamie story that you would come here through major of traffic which I know you despise. I mean, it is impossible, right?"
Albert smiled and cleared his throat. "I am not so sure. There are old stories that we soldiers don't tell so much any more, this being the modern world and all. The old ways are falling out of favour. But I think I remember some strange stories from my earliest childhood. When I heard what these good boys had to say, I got goose-bumps."
"Wait, you think they are telling the truth?"
"They may be. That's why I asked to meat down hear in the cellar. Sal, I think you need to turn the key and pull the lever."
"Uncle, you should not even talk that in front of these two, you can't be serious!"
"No, I am deadly serious Sal. If what they say is true, and what I remember is true, we need them in the know, because we are going to need their full cooperation and their full commitment to what will certainly turn out to be the most dangerous time in any of our lives."
Big Sal looked like he wanted to argue further, but Uncle Albert gave him a look that froze his bones, well, his external bones as it were.
(7:41 pm Nov 07, 2005)
Sunday, October 11, 2009
08. Tings Nov 08
(6:50 am Nov 08, 2005)
Corgi.
The self editing temporal black hole just sucked up eight minutes, make that nine minutes of Bruno's life. He hated when that happened. It felt like someone cut out the bridge and a chorus just when things were beginning to groove.
Please pay attention. These temporal black hole which we mention and in no way related to the strange tricks which time has a habit of playing in the vicinity of Bruno. No, they are a different bag of tricks all together and they are wont to plague even the most mundane among us. I am sure that if you begin to pay attention and keep a sharp eye peeled, you will begin to see that they occur in your life as well.
OK, back to Corgi. Your first thought may take you into canine realms. Good thought, but mistaken in this instance. Bruno was feeling a little nostalgic this morning and was thinking back to his childhood days and his model cars. Bruno's father's mother was from Scotland and Bruno and a Scottish cousin had sent each other toys via parcel post. Bruno might send hot wheels and gi joes, and often would receive one of his favourite childhood toys. Corgi cars.
They almost made him feel guilty. I mean hot wheels were great fun to play with, especially with the dual, side by side, looping track. They just could not compare to the Corgi cars though.
Life brings so many joys. It brings so many disappointments too. Bruno felt a small one as, prompted by his nostalgia, he went to http://www.corgi.com and got the dog site you were thinking of and not the car site he was hoping for. He felt and even larger disappointment after googling for corgi cars and finding their site. Well, actually, finding the site was a small joy snuggled between a small disappointment and a larger disappointment.
He found their site, but he could not find the cars he remembered from childhood. Unless he was missing something on the site, their car selection seemed much reduced from his younger days.
(7:26 am Nov 08, 2005)
Well, for get that, it is wasting too much time.
Bruno got back to trying to write. His thoughts wondered. Melody, Melody, their second night together had been better than the first. He would not have believed it possible yesterday morning, but last night hadmade a believer out of him.
Write, write, write. Stop daydreaming. He could not afford to be a daydreaming believer. And he could not afford to be a dayreadming writer either. Or, more precisely, a daydreaming non-writer. Well, not if he wanted to win NaNoWriMo this year. Quantity, Written, verbal quantity. He would just have to forgo his aspirations to any semblance of quality and just start churning out the words. Throw grammar to the winds and sacrifice plot on the altar of volume.
---
The four soldiers were slumped, bleary eyed, over a large, wine stained oak table in the cellar. Seated on wine casks. Some wine stains still drying. Some hundreds of years old. Stale bread and johnny cake stood in a basket in the centre, crumbs strewn here and there to the would be delight of marauding ants. I say would be because there were no ants actually here. Security in these underground cellars was tight. Tight like if you had severely overheated a goatskin and crushed the drum it was attached to. Tight like dat. Nothing got in or out without being cleared and approved.
Bruddah Bing and Bruddah Boom had been in the outer part of the cellars before for some of Big Sal's wine and cheese parties. But they never even suspected what was really down here behind the secret wall.
Sun.
Sun, sand and sea. The proverbial foundations of Bahamian tourism. The modern day foundation of the Bahamian economy.
Bing doubted that the walls of these cellars had ever seen a single ray of sunshine. And these cellars had not been built to further the tourist industry.
No, the islands had had other foundations to its economy in times gone by. Drug running had stood beside tourism and banking for a while in the not too distant past. Rum running had served for a while. Gun running before that. Wrecking had done its part at various times. But before all of these was piracy.
These cellars had been built to further the piratical pillar that once underpinned the economy of the archipelago.
Built by an unnamed pirate. Unnamed, but not nameless I assure you. Built to securely house his ill gotten gains. Built with the labour of captured seamen who never lived to spread the knowledge of their existence.
Filled with loot from countless captured ships. Gold, silver, jewels and priceless works of art. Now, those TV shows who price things for people who have been rummaging through their grandmothers things in their attics, would probably pick a price for these works of art, but I still maintain that they were priceless. Were... and still are.
Da Bruddas Bing an Boom were still unable to refrain from casting sideways glances at some of the wealth visible from where they sat.
(7:57 am Nov 08, 2005)
On the table was something that Uncle Albert maintained was more valuable than all the pirate treasure down here in the cellars. He had let on that there were miles and miles of tunnels down here on multiple levels. Apparently all filled with treasures as yet untold by the soldiers in all the years since they had discovered the secret entrance.
It was a large book. Filled with the histories of the soldiers, stretching back into the dim, largely forgotten past.
---
Bruno was finally getting into the swing of things and was feeling better about his output. Numerically, that is. The quality was still troubling, but he pushed his worries aside.
(8:03 am Nov 08, 2005)
His fingers flew. His thoughts raced. Words came streaming into existence in a glorious synaptical dance. A dance to a back beat. Rock and Roll baby! May as well sacrifice the syntax while we are at it.
Tea. That delightful beverage. Hot. with sugar and cream or lemon. Cold. With sugar and lemon, lime if you so desire.
Tea. Green and Black. Breakfast tea, there's the ticket.
Bruno was briefly called away from his writing in order to put the kettle on the boil.
Back before the notebook, the words still flowing smoothly into abiword's waiting arms.
(8:19 am Nov 08, 2005)
(6:33 pm Nov 08, 2005)
Here is the story of Big Bill Gruff as told to the judge when he was brought up on charges of murder in the death of one Mr. Lee.
His story:
"This Mr. Lee is a hard case from long time. He is always givin erryone grief, ya Honour.
Any time anyone try to pass over his turf, he would tear into dem somethin fierce. I mean, he would eat dem fa lunch, ya honour.
Now, he done try to mess wit me an ma two bruddah before time when we was trying to pass on da public road which is our right. Now, ma two bruddah was afraid of his sorry self, ya Honour, but dey slick him. Now, when he try mess wit me, I head butt him in da creek an da current carry him out ta sea. Erryone in da neighbourhood tink das da las we ga see a him.
Las night, I home in my bed when I get da word dat he come back and disguise hisself an get ma lil bruddah hook up in a game a dice. Now Judge, ma lil bruddah, he gat da gamblin sickness. He gat it bad. But da word is dat las night, his luck run hot and he clean out dis Mr. Lee fella. So Lee gone home an get he gun an come back an kill ma lil bruddah dead.
Now Judge, when I hear dis, it yuck up my vexation. I buss out ma bead and trow on some clothes and I gone after he hip.
I find him down by Potter's Cay tryin ta hop on one mail boat to skip outta town. He still gat he forty-four and when did he glimpse me, he try shoot me dead too. But I duck out da way an I rush him. I head butt he hip hard and he fall overboard.
Now, he splashin aroun talkin bout he can't swim an help save him an da like, cryin an wailin.
I figure I ga let him splash fa a while to trow some fear inta him before I ga pull him out and butt him again before I give him ta da police. I een kill him ya Honour. Nex ting I know, he get yuck under, he come up once screamin an he get yuck down again an blood is erry here. He get yuck down one more time an een come up. Das da las we see a him an we figure he gone fa good dis time. Den da police find he body all cut up, floatin by da docks on Potter's Cay in da morning.
Das what happen ya Honour Poor Lil Bill Gruff. I ga miss dat boy."
Just then the Judge struck his gavel, "Case Dismissed."
Then the most amazing thing happened. The judge started to shake and he made an unprecedented statement, "Did you say Lil Bill Gruff, he was your brother? I am not supposed to say things like this from the bench, but I am only sorry that I was not there to hear Lee scream myself. Son I'm sorry for your loss, I knew your grandfather well. Your mother and father are gone now too. Do you have anyone left?"
"It's just me and Mid Bill Gruff left now your Honour. All da res a da family is done pass on. Tank you Judge fa ya kind words and fa dismissin ma case."
And that is the real story of the three Billy Goats Gruff.
Nuttin.
Nuttin. Sometin. Whatevah.
Some get nuttin. Some come from nuttin. Some good fa nuttin. Some een know nuttin. Some do nuttin all day. Some say dey up ta nuttin. (Generaly dey up ta no good. At least that's what the old folks say.)
(7:00 pm Nov 08, 2005)
Bruno had managed to get out a nice amount of words during the day and had just finished showering. He splashed on some No Debate and dressed in preparation for going out with Melody again tonight.
---
It had been a long day down in the cellars. A lot of arguing, some shouting, some angry words. Looks of amazement, attempts at denial.
"Boys, it's all right here in the old soldier tales. Time before times there was a caveman and a soldier who befriended one another. The became more than friends. Bing and Boom, you know how you two are. How you often don't have to talk but just are hooked into each other's thoughts? It was kind of like that, only deeper and stronger."
"I still don't believe that something like that can happen," sputtered Boom. No soldier could be as close with a human as I am with Bing.
"The legends say they were, and the prophecies say that a day will come when the caveman will somehow come back to the present and meet up with the descendants of his soldier Miami Vice. They tell of the rise of the alliance to the detriment of regular humans and of us regular soldiers alike. I am afraid we are the ones alive to face this threat. It is to our time that the caveman has returned!" Uncle Albert slumped in his seat and fell asleep with his face in a puddle of drying wine.
Big Sal had remained quite during most of the last two hours while the two younger soldiers had expressed most of his thoughts and disagreements and argued most of his points with Uncle Albert. Now he let out a long slow breath and looked slowly at the ceiling and focused his attention for a moment on a small speck of silver paint before rolling his head on his neck to release some tension.
"Boys, you don't want to believe it, and I don't want to believe it, but I am afraid we all know he is right."
Bing started to object but Sal silenced him with a wave of his big biter. "Boys, as head of the soldiers, I knew some of these prophesies, but a lot of the details of what we heard today was new to me too. We have a lot to get used to and a lot of planning to do. We are not going to take this sitting down. We are going to fight and fight hard. We are not gonna quit. We can change history. We can change the future that was written in the past."
(7:47 pm Nov 08, 2005)
Corgi.
The self editing temporal black hole just sucked up eight minutes, make that nine minutes of Bruno's life. He hated when that happened. It felt like someone cut out the bridge and a chorus just when things were beginning to groove.
Please pay attention. These temporal black hole which we mention and in no way related to the strange tricks which time has a habit of playing in the vicinity of Bruno. No, they are a different bag of tricks all together and they are wont to plague even the most mundane among us. I am sure that if you begin to pay attention and keep a sharp eye peeled, you will begin to see that they occur in your life as well.
OK, back to Corgi. Your first thought may take you into canine realms. Good thought, but mistaken in this instance. Bruno was feeling a little nostalgic this morning and was thinking back to his childhood days and his model cars. Bruno's father's mother was from Scotland and Bruno and a Scottish cousin had sent each other toys via parcel post. Bruno might send hot wheels and gi joes, and often would receive one of his favourite childhood toys. Corgi cars.
They almost made him feel guilty. I mean hot wheels were great fun to play with, especially with the dual, side by side, looping track. They just could not compare to the Corgi cars though.
Life brings so many joys. It brings so many disappointments too. Bruno felt a small one as, prompted by his nostalgia, he went to http://www.corgi.com and got the dog site you were thinking of and not the car site he was hoping for. He felt and even larger disappointment after googling for corgi cars and finding their site. Well, actually, finding the site was a small joy snuggled between a small disappointment and a larger disappointment.
He found their site, but he could not find the cars he remembered from childhood. Unless he was missing something on the site, their car selection seemed much reduced from his younger days.
(7:26 am Nov 08, 2005)
Well, for get that, it is wasting too much time.
Bruno got back to trying to write. His thoughts wondered. Melody, Melody, their second night together had been better than the first. He would not have believed it possible yesterday morning, but last night hadmade a believer out of him.
Write, write, write. Stop daydreaming. He could not afford to be a daydreaming believer. And he could not afford to be a dayreadming writer either. Or, more precisely, a daydreaming non-writer. Well, not if he wanted to win NaNoWriMo this year. Quantity, Written, verbal quantity. He would just have to forgo his aspirations to any semblance of quality and just start churning out the words. Throw grammar to the winds and sacrifice plot on the altar of volume.
---
The four soldiers were slumped, bleary eyed, over a large, wine stained oak table in the cellar. Seated on wine casks. Some wine stains still drying. Some hundreds of years old. Stale bread and johnny cake stood in a basket in the centre, crumbs strewn here and there to the would be delight of marauding ants. I say would be because there were no ants actually here. Security in these underground cellars was tight. Tight like if you had severely overheated a goatskin and crushed the drum it was attached to. Tight like dat. Nothing got in or out without being cleared and approved.
Bruddah Bing and Bruddah Boom had been in the outer part of the cellars before for some of Big Sal's wine and cheese parties. But they never even suspected what was really down here behind the secret wall.
Sun.
Sun, sand and sea. The proverbial foundations of Bahamian tourism. The modern day foundation of the Bahamian economy.
Bing doubted that the walls of these cellars had ever seen a single ray of sunshine. And these cellars had not been built to further the tourist industry.
No, the islands had had other foundations to its economy in times gone by. Drug running had stood beside tourism and banking for a while in the not too distant past. Rum running had served for a while. Gun running before that. Wrecking had done its part at various times. But before all of these was piracy.
These cellars had been built to further the piratical pillar that once underpinned the economy of the archipelago.
Built by an unnamed pirate. Unnamed, but not nameless I assure you. Built to securely house his ill gotten gains. Built with the labour of captured seamen who never lived to spread the knowledge of their existence.
Filled with loot from countless captured ships. Gold, silver, jewels and priceless works of art. Now, those TV shows who price things for people who have been rummaging through their grandmothers things in their attics, would probably pick a price for these works of art, but I still maintain that they were priceless. Were... and still are.
Da Bruddas Bing an Boom were still unable to refrain from casting sideways glances at some of the wealth visible from where they sat.
(7:57 am Nov 08, 2005)
On the table was something that Uncle Albert maintained was more valuable than all the pirate treasure down here in the cellars. He had let on that there were miles and miles of tunnels down here on multiple levels. Apparently all filled with treasures as yet untold by the soldiers in all the years since they had discovered the secret entrance.
It was a large book. Filled with the histories of the soldiers, stretching back into the dim, largely forgotten past.
---
Bruno was finally getting into the swing of things and was feeling better about his output. Numerically, that is. The quality was still troubling, but he pushed his worries aside.
(8:03 am Nov 08, 2005)
His fingers flew. His thoughts raced. Words came streaming into existence in a glorious synaptical dance. A dance to a back beat. Rock and Roll baby! May as well sacrifice the syntax while we are at it.
Tea. That delightful beverage. Hot. with sugar and cream or lemon. Cold. With sugar and lemon, lime if you so desire.
Tea. Green and Black. Breakfast tea, there's the ticket.
Bruno was briefly called away from his writing in order to put the kettle on the boil.
Back before the notebook, the words still flowing smoothly into abiword's waiting arms.
(8:19 am Nov 08, 2005)
(6:33 pm Nov 08, 2005)
Here is the story of Big Bill Gruff as told to the judge when he was brought up on charges of murder in the death of one Mr. Lee.
His story:
"This Mr. Lee is a hard case from long time. He is always givin erryone grief, ya Honour.
Any time anyone try to pass over his turf, he would tear into dem somethin fierce. I mean, he would eat dem fa lunch, ya honour.
Now, he done try to mess wit me an ma two bruddah before time when we was trying to pass on da public road which is our right. Now, ma two bruddah was afraid of his sorry self, ya Honour, but dey slick him. Now, when he try mess wit me, I head butt him in da creek an da current carry him out ta sea. Erryone in da neighbourhood tink das da las we ga see a him.
Las night, I home in my bed when I get da word dat he come back and disguise hisself an get ma lil bruddah hook up in a game a dice. Now Judge, ma lil bruddah, he gat da gamblin sickness. He gat it bad. But da word is dat las night, his luck run hot and he clean out dis Mr. Lee fella. So Lee gone home an get he gun an come back an kill ma lil bruddah dead.
Now Judge, when I hear dis, it yuck up my vexation. I buss out ma bead and trow on some clothes and I gone after he hip.
I find him down by Potter's Cay tryin ta hop on one mail boat to skip outta town. He still gat he forty-four and when did he glimpse me, he try shoot me dead too. But I duck out da way an I rush him. I head butt he hip hard and he fall overboard.
Now, he splashin aroun talkin bout he can't swim an help save him an da like, cryin an wailin.
I figure I ga let him splash fa a while to trow some fear inta him before I ga pull him out and butt him again before I give him ta da police. I een kill him ya Honour. Nex ting I know, he get yuck under, he come up once screamin an he get yuck down again an blood is erry here. He get yuck down one more time an een come up. Das da las we see a him an we figure he gone fa good dis time. Den da police find he body all cut up, floatin by da docks on Potter's Cay in da morning.
Das what happen ya Honour Poor Lil Bill Gruff. I ga miss dat boy."
Just then the Judge struck his gavel, "Case Dismissed."
Then the most amazing thing happened. The judge started to shake and he made an unprecedented statement, "Did you say Lil Bill Gruff, he was your brother? I am not supposed to say things like this from the bench, but I am only sorry that I was not there to hear Lee scream myself. Son I'm sorry for your loss, I knew your grandfather well. Your mother and father are gone now too. Do you have anyone left?"
"It's just me and Mid Bill Gruff left now your Honour. All da res a da family is done pass on. Tank you Judge fa ya kind words and fa dismissin ma case."
And that is the real story of the three Billy Goats Gruff.
Nuttin.
Nuttin. Sometin. Whatevah.
Some get nuttin. Some come from nuttin. Some good fa nuttin. Some een know nuttin. Some do nuttin all day. Some say dey up ta nuttin. (Generaly dey up ta no good. At least that's what the old folks say.)
(7:00 pm Nov 08, 2005)
Bruno had managed to get out a nice amount of words during the day and had just finished showering. He splashed on some No Debate and dressed in preparation for going out with Melody again tonight.
---
It had been a long day down in the cellars. A lot of arguing, some shouting, some angry words. Looks of amazement, attempts at denial.
"Boys, it's all right here in the old soldier tales. Time before times there was a caveman and a soldier who befriended one another. The became more than friends. Bing and Boom, you know how you two are. How you often don't have to talk but just are hooked into each other's thoughts? It was kind of like that, only deeper and stronger."
"I still don't believe that something like that can happen," sputtered Boom. No soldier could be as close with a human as I am with Bing.
"The legends say they were, and the prophecies say that a day will come when the caveman will somehow come back to the present and meet up with the descendants of his soldier Miami Vice. They tell of the rise of the alliance to the detriment of regular humans and of us regular soldiers alike. I am afraid we are the ones alive to face this threat. It is to our time that the caveman has returned!" Uncle Albert slumped in his seat and fell asleep with his face in a puddle of drying wine.
Big Sal had remained quite during most of the last two hours while the two younger soldiers had expressed most of his thoughts and disagreements and argued most of his points with Uncle Albert. Now he let out a long slow breath and looked slowly at the ceiling and focused his attention for a moment on a small speck of silver paint before rolling his head on his neck to release some tension.
"Boys, you don't want to believe it, and I don't want to believe it, but I am afraid we all know he is right."
Bing started to object but Sal silenced him with a wave of his big biter. "Boys, as head of the soldiers, I knew some of these prophesies, but a lot of the details of what we heard today was new to me too. We have a lot to get used to and a lot of planning to do. We are not going to take this sitting down. We are going to fight and fight hard. We are not gonna quit. We can change history. We can change the future that was written in the past."
(7:47 pm Nov 08, 2005)
09. Tings Nov 09
(9:16 am Nov 09, 2005)
The Low Voltage Blues
I got the low voltage blues
I got the low voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the low voltage blues
My U.P.S. is beepin
My Fridge is gettin warm
My A.C., it won't kick in
Man there ain't even no storm
I got the low voltage blues
I got the low voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the low voltage blues
I'm tryin to write my novel
In thirty short, short days
And now just like the last year
Gots to pray they change their ways
I got the low voltage blues
I got the low voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the low voltage blues
If I don't reach my fifty
I'll know just who to blame
Them boys and their low voltage
Who keep messin with my brain
I got the low voltage blues
I got the low voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the low voltage blues
It was happening again, just like last year with Conch. For several mornings, he had been getting a call from a client who was having the type of computer and U.P.S. problems that led him to predict low voltage on the part of the power company. Labour negotiations were ongoing and so this was not too surprising. Actually, these sorts of things happened all the time, but for the semi-paranoid, it seemed that the frequency of power fun increased during labour negotiations or disputes. It made him suspect deep plots. Was the man involved in all oft his? No, it just couldn't be.
This morning it had happened to him and messed up his writing schedule. If this kept up, expensive corrections were in order. Definately low voltage. The low voltage blues. That might actually have legs.
Flipper. One who does flips? A famous marine mammal with ties to the islands?
Flipper. Fins. Mask. Goggles. Sling. Spear. Spring Steel.
There you go.
Of course, we could be talking about Eagle Bald Face and his flying flippers. We could be, but we are not. We are interested in the kind you put on your feet. You put them on your feet and bam, you ability to swim fast increased dramatically. Of course, it helped to have some ability to swim in the first place. You are not advised to think that flippers will actually give you the ability to swim fast, or even to swim at all, if you have no such ability in the first place.
Danger!
(9:35 am Nov 09, 2005)
Bruno struggled home, tired but elated. Another fantastic night with Melody. They had danced till dawn on the sand, the waves making an eternal rhythm as they greeted the shore. The wind in the casuarinas adding ethereal highs while they made beautiful music together once more.
Earlier in the night, he had taken her over to a friends house for a barbecue and to listen while a local band practiced for an upcoming party they were to play at.
Live music. There was something special about live music. He must get back to his efforts to promote live music in the islands when he got up tomorrow. At least for a few hours. The nano word count had increased nicely yesterday and he wanted to build on that as well. Get on a roll as it were instead of running on the rocks. He smiled at the bad pun. Pun can done.
(9:44 am Nov 09, 2005)
(4:07 am Nov 09, 2005)
Mango.
Mango, buy de mango.
Bull. Kent. Haden. There are others. Mangoes are great right off the tree. Some people peel off the skin and discard it. It is my farourite part of the mango though. Another fantastic way to eat a mango is chilled. At the beach. The sun shining down on you. In the calm, clear, warm water to your waist. Hanging out laughing with your friends. A big straw hat on your head for shade. Dip the chilled mango in the sea and take a bite. The salty water adds a wonderful flavour to the chilled mango.
Apples and watermelon are also great when eaten this way.
And never neglect the Mango Lassie. There is a dream beverage. You can get your hands on some good ones in Nassau if you know where to look.
Ezza had not slept for two nights. Well, perhaps he had caught small snatches of fitful, restless sleep here and there, but he was simply too excited to sleep.
On studying the map further, he had at first been crestfallen. There was some writing that when, he had finally figured out what it was all about, made him think that the map must surely be a cruel joke. It did not seem possible that the extensive system of tunnels it described could have been built. Or its construction gone unnoticed during the years it must have taken to build. Nor that, if it indeed existed, it could have gone undiscovered all these years.
(4:27 am Nov 09, 2005)
However, he had not spent his whole life interested in an search for pirate gold only to be foiled by disappointment.
The map seemed to indicate two entrances to the system of tunnels. One in the east, and one out near Clifton. How could there possibly be one system of underground tunnels running for most of the length of the island? It could not be. He was determine not to let doubts control him. He decided he would search for the eastern entrance as he had roamed this part of the island extensively since childhood.
He was sitting now, inside of Blackbeard's Tower, his back against the wall. Sweating profusely, eating some curried dried mango and a handful of pigeon plums. The map showed the location of one of the entrances to be nearby.
There was another reason he had not slept for two nights. An old friend, Cang, had called and said that he need a place to stay and that there was trouble and he needed to talk. Ezza had stalled and put him off, but he and his friend were due at Ezza's house tonight. How would Ezza keep his secret with others living in his house? He certainly didn't want to postpone his search for the treasure.
Ezza studied the map again for the umteenth time. The sun was getting pretty low in the west and coming through the door at an angle. He held the map up close to his face and tilted it to get more light on it. He squinted. A grin spread over his face. He quickly gathered everything up and hurried out the door and headed south into the bush.
Roach. You got the little ones and you got the big daddies. The big daddies that fly. You walk into a room at night and turn on a light and all of a sudden one if flying straight for your head from some high corner. You duck and swat. Then there is the dance where you mash the roach. Then there is your heart which breaks when you get roach. Especially if your best friends roach you. Then there is a roach that gets passed around. We won't go there.
The roaches that Ezza was dealing with right up in now were the big flying kind. They were all over the walls of the passage. Cobwebs were everywhere. Dust was thick on the ground. Ezza's heart was singing again. He was breathing too fast. Hyperventilating was not needed at this point. He needed to be calm and keep his wits about him.
---
Bruno was sending a stream of words into abiword once again, trying to get to quota soon so that he could get ready for another night out with Melody.
(5:09 am Nov 09, 2005)
(5:43 am Nov 09, 2005)
He was stuck at a word block for two long now. He would need to try some verbal ju jitsu or perhaps aikido.
How can you get ahead when the google research temporal black hole sucks up your gains?
Write. Write. Write boy. Get the words flowing again. Break the chains that bind your mind. Let your spirit soar above the mundane to a higher plane. Find the words inside and let them out. Set them free. Release the hounds of of of of war. And so we come full circle even if it is a very small circle.
Bruno was thinking about taking Melody to The Buzz tonight. Have a few. Listen to some live music. A little jam. Perhaps the two of them could even get in on a set or two. That would be nice. Maybe later, go somewhere and have a quiet late night dinner. Or perhaps grab something and have a grill on the beach.
Bruno gave up. It was just too frustrating, he kept trying all of his old tricks for getting into the groove of writing, but his mind kept coming around to Melody. Oh, every once in awhile he hit a nice stretch where he was happy with his output, but mostly, his words came in fits and starts. Spurts that wouldn't last. Again he toyed with doubts of not finishing. Each time though, he recoiled at the thought. He would have to find a way to enjoy the good thing he had going with Melody and still get his chapters written each day. And then there was the live music promotion that he kept putting off. It was just not like him.
Sail. You heise up da John B sail, see how da main sail set. When the wind is blowing, when the sails are set, when you are heeled over and rushing along. The feeling of power is delicious. Pure delight. Never mind the drawers falling out down below. Never mind the cupboards crashing open and spilling their contents because you forgot to secure things properly in your haste when the squall appeared and the wind picked up suddenly after days of light winds and slow sailing.
Sail. Sailfish. Sale. Gigantic 90% off sale! Store wide. Hurry while supplies last.
BRAAAAANK!
Dude, we are talking sail not sale, come on, you know better!
Yes, but can I do better. Every trick in the book? I'll take it. There is even a thread in the Reaching 50,000 forum with the subject "ok everyone, give me all your dirty tricks" so you know it must be a legit ploy. Come on, we need the word count here.
(6:18 am Nov 09, 2005)
The soldiers had finally come up with a plan that they agreed upon. None of them were particularly happy with it, but it was the best they could come up with. There would be dangers. Their chances of success did not seem great, but they were all determined and they were all stubborn fighters who did not know how to pronounce the word defeat.
No really. They couldn't pronounce defeat. They could say quit clear enough, but could never manage to get out defeat. OK, so if you want to nitpick, perhaps they knew how to pronounce defeat but just couldn't actually pronounce it. Kind of like that Gordon, Gerden story huh? OK, OK. You win smarty pants.
They had thought of sending out an island wide look out notice to all the soldiers but they thought that would result in too great a chance of alerting their opposition that they had twigged to them and were on their trail. They thought it best to retain any element of surprise that remained to them.
Bruddah Bing and Bruddah Boom were therefore tasked with visiting all the areas of the island to see if they could turn up any traces of those two. Those dangerous two. Those unnatural two.
(6:33 am Nov 09, 2005)
Bruno was going stir crazy, The Buzz was not due to open until eight. He had time to kill. Well, he shouldn't kill it at all. He should capture it and use it to his own ends, but all he felt like doing was killing it.
Frustration.
(6:35 am Nov 09, 2005)
(8:23 am Nov 09, 2005)
Up in Spanish Wells, at the club in the clearing, there was an odd thing occurring.
Someone was telling an old joke. The one about the guys in prison who would...
No, that would ruin the punch line for you. Here is the joke:
This guy gets sent to prison. His first night, after the cells are all locked, things quiet down. After a short while, a prisoner shouts out, "twenty!"
The prisoners and some of the guards burst out laughing. The new guy is confused. Shortly, another voice shouts "two eighty seven!"
Again laughter ensues. This continues for a while with the new man getting more and more confused. Finally, during a silent period, he gets the attention of the man in the cell next to him. "Hey buddy, what's going on? Why does everyone laugh when someone shouts out a number? What's so funny?"
"Well," comes the reply, "there's this one joke book in the prison library that we all like. We've been in here so long, that we all have it memorized. We don't bother with the whole joke anymore, we just say the number, everyone knows the joke, we laugh. Simple. The jokes are the best."
The new guy thought this was a bit strange but the next day, he checked the joke book out. The jokes were fantastic. He spewed his tea on the first one. Soon he was doubled over, tears running down his face. His sides were aching.
At the end of an hour, he decided to choose the one he liked best from the ones he had read already so that he would have a number to shout out tonight.
That night, after all the cells are locked, things quiet down again. After a while, "fifteen!"
The place was raucous. He remembered fifteen and also burst out laughing.
Jokes continued to be shouted out from time to time and everyone would laugh.
Finally, it seemed like a good time and he shouted out "thirty three!"
Silence! Well not quite, he could be heard laughing for a while, but no one else was. Soon, someone else shouted, "forty five!"
Everyone burst out laughing again.
During the silence when the laughter died down, he again got the attention of the man in the cell next to his. "Hey buddy, what happened? That was one of the most funny jokes I have ever heard and no one laughed."
"Well, friend, some can tell em, and some caint."
OK, so someone at the club told that joke. They all laughed. Then they told some jokes on the conians and they laughed at those. Then someone, still thinking about the number joke, came up with this idea.
Seeing as they didn't all share the same joke book, they couldn't call out numbers, but what if instead of telling the whole joke, they were to just tell the punch line or the main point. They could tell a lot more jokes and laugh a lot more.
Everyone agreed that this was a capital idea.
His father wasn't sittin in the cherry tree.
That's a long way to tip a rare-y.
A synapse.
That's not my ear, mine had a pencil behind it.
Um so mad, um done chewed through three of ma legs and I aint down yet.
He broke in through the bottom.
Hare today, goon tomorrow.
People who live in grass houses shouldn't stow thrones.
(9:08 am Nov 09, 2005)
The Low Voltage Blues
I got the low voltage blues
I got the low voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the low voltage blues
My U.P.S. is beepin
My Fridge is gettin warm
My A.C., it won't kick in
Man there ain't even no storm
I got the low voltage blues
I got the low voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the low voltage blues
I'm tryin to write my novel
In thirty short, short days
And now just like the last year
Gots to pray they change their ways
I got the low voltage blues
I got the low voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the low voltage blues
If I don't reach my fifty
I'll know just who to blame
Them boys and their low voltage
Who keep messin with my brain
I got the low voltage blues
I got the low voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the low voltage blues
It was happening again, just like last year with Conch. For several mornings, he had been getting a call from a client who was having the type of computer and U.P.S. problems that led him to predict low voltage on the part of the power company. Labour negotiations were ongoing and so this was not too surprising. Actually, these sorts of things happened all the time, but for the semi-paranoid, it seemed that the frequency of power fun increased during labour negotiations or disputes. It made him suspect deep plots. Was the man involved in all oft his? No, it just couldn't be.
This morning it had happened to him and messed up his writing schedule. If this kept up, expensive corrections were in order. Definately low voltage. The low voltage blues. That might actually have legs.
Flipper. One who does flips? A famous marine mammal with ties to the islands?
Flipper. Fins. Mask. Goggles. Sling. Spear. Spring Steel.
There you go.
Of course, we could be talking about Eagle Bald Face and his flying flippers. We could be, but we are not. We are interested in the kind you put on your feet. You put them on your feet and bam, you ability to swim fast increased dramatically. Of course, it helped to have some ability to swim in the first place. You are not advised to think that flippers will actually give you the ability to swim fast, or even to swim at all, if you have no such ability in the first place.
Danger!
(9:35 am Nov 09, 2005)
Bruno struggled home, tired but elated. Another fantastic night with Melody. They had danced till dawn on the sand, the waves making an eternal rhythm as they greeted the shore. The wind in the casuarinas adding ethereal highs while they made beautiful music together once more.
Earlier in the night, he had taken her over to a friends house for a barbecue and to listen while a local band practiced for an upcoming party they were to play at.
Live music. There was something special about live music. He must get back to his efforts to promote live music in the islands when he got up tomorrow. At least for a few hours. The nano word count had increased nicely yesterday and he wanted to build on that as well. Get on a roll as it were instead of running on the rocks. He smiled at the bad pun. Pun can done.
(9:44 am Nov 09, 2005)
(4:07 am Nov 09, 2005)
Mango.
Mango, buy de mango.
Bull. Kent. Haden. There are others. Mangoes are great right off the tree. Some people peel off the skin and discard it. It is my farourite part of the mango though. Another fantastic way to eat a mango is chilled. At the beach. The sun shining down on you. In the calm, clear, warm water to your waist. Hanging out laughing with your friends. A big straw hat on your head for shade. Dip the chilled mango in the sea and take a bite. The salty water adds a wonderful flavour to the chilled mango.
Apples and watermelon are also great when eaten this way.
And never neglect the Mango Lassie. There is a dream beverage. You can get your hands on some good ones in Nassau if you know where to look.
Ezza had not slept for two nights. Well, perhaps he had caught small snatches of fitful, restless sleep here and there, but he was simply too excited to sleep.
On studying the map further, he had at first been crestfallen. There was some writing that when, he had finally figured out what it was all about, made him think that the map must surely be a cruel joke. It did not seem possible that the extensive system of tunnels it described could have been built. Or its construction gone unnoticed during the years it must have taken to build. Nor that, if it indeed existed, it could have gone undiscovered all these years.
(4:27 am Nov 09, 2005)
However, he had not spent his whole life interested in an search for pirate gold only to be foiled by disappointment.
The map seemed to indicate two entrances to the system of tunnels. One in the east, and one out near Clifton. How could there possibly be one system of underground tunnels running for most of the length of the island? It could not be. He was determine not to let doubts control him. He decided he would search for the eastern entrance as he had roamed this part of the island extensively since childhood.
He was sitting now, inside of Blackbeard's Tower, his back against the wall. Sweating profusely, eating some curried dried mango and a handful of pigeon plums. The map showed the location of one of the entrances to be nearby.
There was another reason he had not slept for two nights. An old friend, Cang, had called and said that he need a place to stay and that there was trouble and he needed to talk. Ezza had stalled and put him off, but he and his friend were due at Ezza's house tonight. How would Ezza keep his secret with others living in his house? He certainly didn't want to postpone his search for the treasure.
Ezza studied the map again for the umteenth time. The sun was getting pretty low in the west and coming through the door at an angle. He held the map up close to his face and tilted it to get more light on it. He squinted. A grin spread over his face. He quickly gathered everything up and hurried out the door and headed south into the bush.
Roach. You got the little ones and you got the big daddies. The big daddies that fly. You walk into a room at night and turn on a light and all of a sudden one if flying straight for your head from some high corner. You duck and swat. Then there is the dance where you mash the roach. Then there is your heart which breaks when you get roach. Especially if your best friends roach you. Then there is a roach that gets passed around. We won't go there.
The roaches that Ezza was dealing with right up in now were the big flying kind. They were all over the walls of the passage. Cobwebs were everywhere. Dust was thick on the ground. Ezza's heart was singing again. He was breathing too fast. Hyperventilating was not needed at this point. He needed to be calm and keep his wits about him.
---
Bruno was sending a stream of words into abiword once again, trying to get to quota soon so that he could get ready for another night out with Melody.
(5:09 am Nov 09, 2005)
(5:43 am Nov 09, 2005)
He was stuck at a word block for two long now. He would need to try some verbal ju jitsu or perhaps aikido.
How can you get ahead when the google research temporal black hole sucks up your gains?
Write. Write. Write boy. Get the words flowing again. Break the chains that bind your mind. Let your spirit soar above the mundane to a higher plane. Find the words inside and let them out. Set them free. Release the hounds of of of of war. And so we come full circle even if it is a very small circle.
Bruno was thinking about taking Melody to The Buzz tonight. Have a few. Listen to some live music. A little jam. Perhaps the two of them could even get in on a set or two. That would be nice. Maybe later, go somewhere and have a quiet late night dinner. Or perhaps grab something and have a grill on the beach.
Bruno gave up. It was just too frustrating, he kept trying all of his old tricks for getting into the groove of writing, but his mind kept coming around to Melody. Oh, every once in awhile he hit a nice stretch where he was happy with his output, but mostly, his words came in fits and starts. Spurts that wouldn't last. Again he toyed with doubts of not finishing. Each time though, he recoiled at the thought. He would have to find a way to enjoy the good thing he had going with Melody and still get his chapters written each day. And then there was the live music promotion that he kept putting off. It was just not like him.
Sail. You heise up da John B sail, see how da main sail set. When the wind is blowing, when the sails are set, when you are heeled over and rushing along. The feeling of power is delicious. Pure delight. Never mind the drawers falling out down below. Never mind the cupboards crashing open and spilling their contents because you forgot to secure things properly in your haste when the squall appeared and the wind picked up suddenly after days of light winds and slow sailing.
Sail. Sailfish. Sale. Gigantic 90% off sale! Store wide. Hurry while supplies last.
BRAAAAANK!
Dude, we are talking sail not sale, come on, you know better!
Yes, but can I do better. Every trick in the book? I'll take it. There is even a thread in the Reaching 50,000 forum with the subject "ok everyone, give me all your dirty tricks" so you know it must be a legit ploy. Come on, we need the word count here.
(6:18 am Nov 09, 2005)
The soldiers had finally come up with a plan that they agreed upon. None of them were particularly happy with it, but it was the best they could come up with. There would be dangers. Their chances of success did not seem great, but they were all determined and they were all stubborn fighters who did not know how to pronounce the word defeat.
No really. They couldn't pronounce defeat. They could say quit clear enough, but could never manage to get out defeat. OK, so if you want to nitpick, perhaps they knew how to pronounce defeat but just couldn't actually pronounce it. Kind of like that Gordon, Gerden story huh? OK, OK. You win smarty pants.
They had thought of sending out an island wide look out notice to all the soldiers but they thought that would result in too great a chance of alerting their opposition that they had twigged to them and were on their trail. They thought it best to retain any element of surprise that remained to them.
Bruddah Bing and Bruddah Boom were therefore tasked with visiting all the areas of the island to see if they could turn up any traces of those two. Those dangerous two. Those unnatural two.
(6:33 am Nov 09, 2005)
Bruno was going stir crazy, The Buzz was not due to open until eight. He had time to kill. Well, he shouldn't kill it at all. He should capture it and use it to his own ends, but all he felt like doing was killing it.
Frustration.
(6:35 am Nov 09, 2005)
(8:23 am Nov 09, 2005)
Up in Spanish Wells, at the club in the clearing, there was an odd thing occurring.
Someone was telling an old joke. The one about the guys in prison who would...
No, that would ruin the punch line for you. Here is the joke:
This guy gets sent to prison. His first night, after the cells are all locked, things quiet down. After a short while, a prisoner shouts out, "twenty!"
The prisoners and some of the guards burst out laughing. The new guy is confused. Shortly, another voice shouts "two eighty seven!"
Again laughter ensues. This continues for a while with the new man getting more and more confused. Finally, during a silent period, he gets the attention of the man in the cell next to him. "Hey buddy, what's going on? Why does everyone laugh when someone shouts out a number? What's so funny?"
"Well," comes the reply, "there's this one joke book in the prison library that we all like. We've been in here so long, that we all have it memorized. We don't bother with the whole joke anymore, we just say the number, everyone knows the joke, we laugh. Simple. The jokes are the best."
The new guy thought this was a bit strange but the next day, he checked the joke book out. The jokes were fantastic. He spewed his tea on the first one. Soon he was doubled over, tears running down his face. His sides were aching.
At the end of an hour, he decided to choose the one he liked best from the ones he had read already so that he would have a number to shout out tonight.
That night, after all the cells are locked, things quiet down again. After a while, "fifteen!"
The place was raucous. He remembered fifteen and also burst out laughing.
Jokes continued to be shouted out from time to time and everyone would laugh.
Finally, it seemed like a good time and he shouted out "thirty three!"
Silence! Well not quite, he could be heard laughing for a while, but no one else was. Soon, someone else shouted, "forty five!"
Everyone burst out laughing again.
During the silence when the laughter died down, he again got the attention of the man in the cell next to his. "Hey buddy, what happened? That was one of the most funny jokes I have ever heard and no one laughed."
"Well, friend, some can tell em, and some caint."
OK, so someone at the club told that joke. They all laughed. Then they told some jokes on the conians and they laughed at those. Then someone, still thinking about the number joke, came up with this idea.
Seeing as they didn't all share the same joke book, they couldn't call out numbers, but what if instead of telling the whole joke, they were to just tell the punch line or the main point. They could tell a lot more jokes and laugh a lot more.
Everyone agreed that this was a capital idea.
His father wasn't sittin in the cherry tree.
That's a long way to tip a rare-y.
A synapse.
That's not my ear, mine had a pencil behind it.
Um so mad, um done chewed through three of ma legs and I aint down yet.
He broke in through the bottom.
Hare today, goon tomorrow.
People who live in grass houses shouldn't stow thrones.
(9:08 am Nov 09, 2005)
10. Tings Nov 10
(7:11 am Nov 10, 2005)
The No Voltage Blues
I got the no voltage blues
I got the no voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the no voltage blues
My U.P.S. is beepin
It wakes me from my dream
And man she was a sweet ting
Ate least thats how it seemed
I got the no voltage blues
I got the no voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the no voltage blues
My A.C.'s sittin quiet
My room is gettin warm
I lie right here and sigh it
Aint no sign of a storm
I got the no voltage blues
I got the no voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the no voltage blues
I'm tryin to write my novel
In thirty short, short days
And now just like the last year
Gots to pray they change their ways
I got the no voltage blues
I got the no voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the no voltage blues
(7:23 am Nov 10, 2005)
Orange you glad I didn't say banana? (Cue laughter)
The Buzz had been great. Bruno had run into a couple of other back beats he had known from way back. The reunion was fun though he could tell Melody felt a little left out. He toned things down with his old friends and things with Melody picked up. They danced, they got to do a number or two with the band, they danced some more. They ordered drinks with embarrassing names and laughed.
When Bruno suggested getting something to eat on leaving the club, Melody said she had a test coming up and needed to turn in early and so, for the first time since he met her, they did not welcome the sun together.
Bruno had dropped her home and then he had come home and crashed. In truth, he needed the extra sleep too. If you could call the little sleep he gave himself, extra.
He was up now and trying to get into his day.
(7:38 am Nov 10, 2005)
Tourist. Tourism. Visitor. Guest. Service. Sun, sand, and sea. Boats. Fishing. Scuba. Tour. History. Nature. Eco. Treasure. Respect.
Bruno had an eleven o'clock meeting with someone from the Ministry of Tourism to discuss the ways in which live music and tourism could complement each other. He sat for a while and sipped his tea while going over some old notes and making some new ones. The new ones included the linkages between Free Music and Tourism. He got a little excited.
(7:59 am Nov 10, 2005)
There was a knock on the door and before he could say come in, Jelli was walking into the room, letting the screen door slam behind him.
"Jelli, now is not a good time my friend. I have to get some writing done before my appointment down at the ministry."
"Beat! You da man! The electrickery goes out for a little while last night and already this morning you have a meeting with the Minister of Works. You go Beat!"
"With the ministry of tourism. Jelli."
"Oh, I get it. Kidneys man, kidneys. Get the Minister of Tourism to bring pressure on the Minister of Works on account of how the outages negatively affect our tourism product. That's using the old noggin!"
"Ah, no Jelli, first off, I am meeting about the music and tourism linkages and second, I am not meeting with the Minister, but with someone I was hooked up with by a friend. My friend said he thinks this contact will have an interest in what I have to say. We shall see. I also have a group meeting I have to set up to see if we can get some grass roots action on this as well. I want to attack this from the top and the bottom at once. If I can find a way to move on the middle at the same time, I will try that too. Now Jelli, not to be rude, but out! Scram, I have to work."
The screen door slams again and Bruno sits down to write.
Shark.
Loan shark.
Pool shark.
Shark shark.
Harbour Master. Heath was the Harbour Master for the Nassau harbour. The position had been held by his relatives for many generations now. They took the job seriously. Heath did too.
(8:14 am Nov 10, 2005)
He made his rounds of the harbour, made sure nothing got too far out of hand. Made the rounds down by the Prince George Wharf, even went so far as to go down by Arawak Cay and the fish fry. He cruised the Paradise Island shore from the light house in the west to The Narrows in the east. This included several marinas. He also covered the marinas and clubs on the Nassau side and the commercial docks and the Potters Cay causeway and mail boat docks.
He took breaks by patrolling the bridges. he would choose a bridge and swim back and forth under it, controlling access between the western and eastern parts of the harbour. Occasionally, he would exact a toll for passage.
He was a little disturbed today. There was a rumour going around about him. Sip sip as it were. No one would say it to his face, but he had overheard whispers when he had come up unannounced. Whispers to the effect that he had had something to do with the demise of one Mr. Lee.
This was not good. He was upset already in that something like that had happened in his harbour without his approval or his knowledge. Not that he would not have gladly given his approval in this case, or even gladly have deon the deed which he was now rumoured to have done. No, strange as it seems, Lil Bill Gruff had been a good friend of his and he would have happily dispatched Mr. Lee.
As far as heath was concerned, that Mr. Lee was one bad man and good riddance. But that someone had done it in his harbour and without his say so, and that he still could not determine who that someone was? No, that was disturbing. It spoke of a breakdown in the proper order of things. Now, that set above the surface might have relaxed views as to the importance of the proper order of things, but down here in his realm, Heath like things nice and neat. Ship shape as it were. Which was quite funny in a way since this was where ships came when they weren't. Ship shape as it were.
(8:33 am Nov 10, 2005)
(8:09 pm Nov 10, 2005)
Pigeon Plum. A small fruit that grows on trees. The trees can get to be a good size. Big enough to build a tree fort in. Now, as nice as tree forts in pigeon plum trees can be, pigeon plums themselves are better. Pure purple goodness. Eat a goodly amount and be the proud owner of a purple tongue. Pigeons like them too. And mockingbirds.
This brings us to Red. He liked to spend his time between the lamp pole and the pigeon plum tree in Bruno's back yard. He may have eaten a few too many pigeon plums today. His stomach was giving him a bit of trouble. He was sat on top of the lamp pole now, trying to sing, but not quite getting the notes right.
Bruno sat inside at the table and smiled as he listened to Red's efforts. That bird was a joy. Lots of fun to watch. He was brave as well and would take on birds much larger than himself. He would not hesitate to attack dogs or cats either if the situation warranted it.
(8:25 pm Nov 10, 2005)
The meeting at the Ministry had gone quite well in his estimation. He had made a few points that he though went over well and he had come away with some new ideas as well. Some new wrinkles that he intended to see if he could work into his plans.
After the meeting, he had met Ezza downtown for lunch at a local Greek restaurant. He had ordered a gyro which had been excellent. Ezza had been pleasant, but had seemed distracted and had not been able to sit and talk like Bruno had hoped. He said he had things to do and left just after they had finished eating.
Bruno wandered around town a bit after lunch and browsed around one of the bookstores.
---
Ezza had hated cutting his time with Bruno short, but he needed to get back to help Cang and XXIII in the tunnels. He hadn't intended to tell them, but it had somehow slipped out and they had proved to be invaluable help in the work. XXIII in particular, proved to be a right little powerhouse of a worker. He seemed to be able to go on and on. I mean, even if he did not get something to work the first time, he just kept on trying.
Ezza had wanted to see if they could explore all the way to the other entrance before fully exploring all of the side passages and chambers along the way.
Cang and XXIII thought the other order was a better idea. In the end, they settled for one day of exploring close to the entrance before going with Ezza's plan.
This had proved more difficult that the plans had indicated. Every so often, they encountered what looked like walls but proved to be doors blocking their way. When they encountered one, they would have to stop and look around and try and solve the puzzle of how to open it. This often resulted in an hour or two's delay.
Whaler.
Whaler. You know, that boat you can cut in half and it doesn't sink. That boat that will spank you with glee. That boat that will take you to Exuma or to Spanish Wells. You know, like Cay Dreams. That rugged, durable, well loved whaler. They say the houses up that way resemble the ones in the islands. Something like that. Perhaps, somewhere near that.
Jelli was out in Cay Dreams tonight. Anchoured off Dicks Point. Lying on the boat cushions, looking up at the sky contentedly. A small line running over his index finger and snaking over the side. Sometimes he just liked to fish. To be out on the water and fish. To feel the little nibbles as the fish worried his bait, usually conch.
He hadn't caught anything yet tonight, but that didn't bother him any. This wasn't the best place for fishing anyway. But it was easy to reach and enough out of the way of nighttime boat traffic that he would not have to worry too much if he dozed now and again.
(9:10 pm Nov 10, 2005)
(9:27 pm Nov 10, 2005)
Bruno needed to shave and shower. He was supposed to meet Melody down at The Buzz again at ten before a late dinner over on P.I. at eleven. After that, they would see.
Bruno put on the Rainwater Blues and went in to the bathroom and turned on the hot water in the sink.
---
Melody was already at The Buzz. She had finished up earlier than expected and had tried calling Bruno to let him know, but had gotten a quick busy tome. She did not feel like trying for who knows how long and so had headed out for the club to have a drink before Bruno's arrival.
---
Bruddah Boom was at The Buzz as well. High up the wall out on the porch that overlooked the boat yard and the harbour. He and Bing had split up to cover more ground. So far, no trace of Cang and XXIII. Perhaps he would overhear something tonight.
---
Jelli felt a hard tug on his line and yanked it to try and set the hook. Action. He pulled hard and whatever was on the other end pulled back. Hard. He hoped it wasn't too big or it would pop his light line.
---
Heath was at the breakwater by Fort Montague when he heard the commotion and decide to go a little out of his normal route to investigate.
---
Ezza and Cang were sitting in Ezza's living room discussing the day's find and tomorrow's plans. XXIII was asleep already. Apparently, he did not keep going all day and all of the night. Just during the day and some of the night.
(9:41 pm Nov 10, 2005)
(10:36 pm Nov 10, 2005)
Bruno and Melody headed over to P.I. and got a pizza and a salad. Then they went to a club out west for a little dancing.
(10:38 pm Nov 10, 2005)
The No Voltage Blues
I got the no voltage blues
I got the no voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the no voltage blues
My U.P.S. is beepin
It wakes me from my dream
And man she was a sweet ting
Ate least thats how it seemed
I got the no voltage blues
I got the no voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the no voltage blues
My A.C.'s sittin quiet
My room is gettin warm
I lie right here and sigh it
Aint no sign of a storm
I got the no voltage blues
I got the no voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the no voltage blues
I'm tryin to write my novel
In thirty short, short days
And now just like the last year
Gots to pray they change their ways
I got the no voltage blues
I got the no voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the no voltage blues
(7:23 am Nov 10, 2005)
Orange you glad I didn't say banana? (Cue laughter)
The Buzz had been great. Bruno had run into a couple of other back beats he had known from way back. The reunion was fun though he could tell Melody felt a little left out. He toned things down with his old friends and things with Melody picked up. They danced, they got to do a number or two with the band, they danced some more. They ordered drinks with embarrassing names and laughed.
When Bruno suggested getting something to eat on leaving the club, Melody said she had a test coming up and needed to turn in early and so, for the first time since he met her, they did not welcome the sun together.
Bruno had dropped her home and then he had come home and crashed. In truth, he needed the extra sleep too. If you could call the little sleep he gave himself, extra.
He was up now and trying to get into his day.
(7:38 am Nov 10, 2005)
Tourist. Tourism. Visitor. Guest. Service. Sun, sand, and sea. Boats. Fishing. Scuba. Tour. History. Nature. Eco. Treasure. Respect.
Bruno had an eleven o'clock meeting with someone from the Ministry of Tourism to discuss the ways in which live music and tourism could complement each other. He sat for a while and sipped his tea while going over some old notes and making some new ones. The new ones included the linkages between Free Music and Tourism. He got a little excited.
(7:59 am Nov 10, 2005)
There was a knock on the door and before he could say come in, Jelli was walking into the room, letting the screen door slam behind him.
"Jelli, now is not a good time my friend. I have to get some writing done before my appointment down at the ministry."
"Beat! You da man! The electrickery goes out for a little while last night and already this morning you have a meeting with the Minister of Works. You go Beat!"
"With the ministry of tourism. Jelli."
"Oh, I get it. Kidneys man, kidneys. Get the Minister of Tourism to bring pressure on the Minister of Works on account of how the outages negatively affect our tourism product. That's using the old noggin!"
"Ah, no Jelli, first off, I am meeting about the music and tourism linkages and second, I am not meeting with the Minister, but with someone I was hooked up with by a friend. My friend said he thinks this contact will have an interest in what I have to say. We shall see. I also have a group meeting I have to set up to see if we can get some grass roots action on this as well. I want to attack this from the top and the bottom at once. If I can find a way to move on the middle at the same time, I will try that too. Now Jelli, not to be rude, but out! Scram, I have to work."
The screen door slams again and Bruno sits down to write.
Shark.
Loan shark.
Pool shark.
Shark shark.
Harbour Master. Heath was the Harbour Master for the Nassau harbour. The position had been held by his relatives for many generations now. They took the job seriously. Heath did too.
(8:14 am Nov 10, 2005)
He made his rounds of the harbour, made sure nothing got too far out of hand. Made the rounds down by the Prince George Wharf, even went so far as to go down by Arawak Cay and the fish fry. He cruised the Paradise Island shore from the light house in the west to The Narrows in the east. This included several marinas. He also covered the marinas and clubs on the Nassau side and the commercial docks and the Potters Cay causeway and mail boat docks.
He took breaks by patrolling the bridges. he would choose a bridge and swim back and forth under it, controlling access between the western and eastern parts of the harbour. Occasionally, he would exact a toll for passage.
He was a little disturbed today. There was a rumour going around about him. Sip sip as it were. No one would say it to his face, but he had overheard whispers when he had come up unannounced. Whispers to the effect that he had had something to do with the demise of one Mr. Lee.
This was not good. He was upset already in that something like that had happened in his harbour without his approval or his knowledge. Not that he would not have gladly given his approval in this case, or even gladly have deon the deed which he was now rumoured to have done. No, strange as it seems, Lil Bill Gruff had been a good friend of his and he would have happily dispatched Mr. Lee.
As far as heath was concerned, that Mr. Lee was one bad man and good riddance. But that someone had done it in his harbour and without his say so, and that he still could not determine who that someone was? No, that was disturbing. It spoke of a breakdown in the proper order of things. Now, that set above the surface might have relaxed views as to the importance of the proper order of things, but down here in his realm, Heath like things nice and neat. Ship shape as it were. Which was quite funny in a way since this was where ships came when they weren't. Ship shape as it were.
(8:33 am Nov 10, 2005)
(8:09 pm Nov 10, 2005)
Pigeon Plum. A small fruit that grows on trees. The trees can get to be a good size. Big enough to build a tree fort in. Now, as nice as tree forts in pigeon plum trees can be, pigeon plums themselves are better. Pure purple goodness. Eat a goodly amount and be the proud owner of a purple tongue. Pigeons like them too. And mockingbirds.
This brings us to Red. He liked to spend his time between the lamp pole and the pigeon plum tree in Bruno's back yard. He may have eaten a few too many pigeon plums today. His stomach was giving him a bit of trouble. He was sat on top of the lamp pole now, trying to sing, but not quite getting the notes right.
Bruno sat inside at the table and smiled as he listened to Red's efforts. That bird was a joy. Lots of fun to watch. He was brave as well and would take on birds much larger than himself. He would not hesitate to attack dogs or cats either if the situation warranted it.
(8:25 pm Nov 10, 2005)
The meeting at the Ministry had gone quite well in his estimation. He had made a few points that he though went over well and he had come away with some new ideas as well. Some new wrinkles that he intended to see if he could work into his plans.
After the meeting, he had met Ezza downtown for lunch at a local Greek restaurant. He had ordered a gyro which had been excellent. Ezza had been pleasant, but had seemed distracted and had not been able to sit and talk like Bruno had hoped. He said he had things to do and left just after they had finished eating.
Bruno wandered around town a bit after lunch and browsed around one of the bookstores.
---
Ezza had hated cutting his time with Bruno short, but he needed to get back to help Cang and XXIII in the tunnels. He hadn't intended to tell them, but it had somehow slipped out and they had proved to be invaluable help in the work. XXIII in particular, proved to be a right little powerhouse of a worker. He seemed to be able to go on and on. I mean, even if he did not get something to work the first time, he just kept on trying.
Ezza had wanted to see if they could explore all the way to the other entrance before fully exploring all of the side passages and chambers along the way.
Cang and XXIII thought the other order was a better idea. In the end, they settled for one day of exploring close to the entrance before going with Ezza's plan.
This had proved more difficult that the plans had indicated. Every so often, they encountered what looked like walls but proved to be doors blocking their way. When they encountered one, they would have to stop and look around and try and solve the puzzle of how to open it. This often resulted in an hour or two's delay.
Whaler.
Whaler. You know, that boat you can cut in half and it doesn't sink. That boat that will spank you with glee. That boat that will take you to Exuma or to Spanish Wells. You know, like Cay Dreams. That rugged, durable, well loved whaler. They say the houses up that way resemble the ones in the islands. Something like that. Perhaps, somewhere near that.
Jelli was out in Cay Dreams tonight. Anchoured off Dicks Point. Lying on the boat cushions, looking up at the sky contentedly. A small line running over his index finger and snaking over the side. Sometimes he just liked to fish. To be out on the water and fish. To feel the little nibbles as the fish worried his bait, usually conch.
He hadn't caught anything yet tonight, but that didn't bother him any. This wasn't the best place for fishing anyway. But it was easy to reach and enough out of the way of nighttime boat traffic that he would not have to worry too much if he dozed now and again.
(9:10 pm Nov 10, 2005)
(9:27 pm Nov 10, 2005)
Bruno needed to shave and shower. He was supposed to meet Melody down at The Buzz again at ten before a late dinner over on P.I. at eleven. After that, they would see.
Bruno put on the Rainwater Blues and went in to the bathroom and turned on the hot water in the sink.
---
Melody was already at The Buzz. She had finished up earlier than expected and had tried calling Bruno to let him know, but had gotten a quick busy tome. She did not feel like trying for who knows how long and so had headed out for the club to have a drink before Bruno's arrival.
---
Bruddah Boom was at The Buzz as well. High up the wall out on the porch that overlooked the boat yard and the harbour. He and Bing had split up to cover more ground. So far, no trace of Cang and XXIII. Perhaps he would overhear something tonight.
---
Jelli felt a hard tug on his line and yanked it to try and set the hook. Action. He pulled hard and whatever was on the other end pulled back. Hard. He hoped it wasn't too big or it would pop his light line.
---
Heath was at the breakwater by Fort Montague when he heard the commotion and decide to go a little out of his normal route to investigate.
---
Ezza and Cang were sitting in Ezza's living room discussing the day's find and tomorrow's plans. XXIII was asleep already. Apparently, he did not keep going all day and all of the night. Just during the day and some of the night.
(9:41 pm Nov 10, 2005)
(10:36 pm Nov 10, 2005)
Bruno and Melody headed over to P.I. and got a pizza and a salad. Then they went to a club out west for a little dancing.
(10:38 pm Nov 10, 2005)
11. Tings Nov 11
(7:31 am Nov 11, 2005)
Wreck.
Wreck. Wrecking. A one time "industry" in the Bahamas. If you come to the islands, ask around for some wrecking stories, or, if you have internet access, try googling for yourself.
It is one thing to salvage the contents of a ship that runs aground, to help save the people from the ship. It is another entirely to set a light in the wrong place in order to lead the ship onto the reef.
That is all I shall say here. Remember, ask around. It is amazing the wealth of knowledge that resides in the older generation. (Knowledge that is fast being lost, I might add.) Even in the smaller communities, perhaps even especially in the smaller communities.
The incessant ringing of the phone woke Bruno from a vivid dream, a dream of musical energy. It was Jelli's brother asking if Bruno knew what had happened to him. It seems Cay Dreams had been found anchoured off Dick's Point this morning but there was no sing of Jelli. There was a large slippery dick in the bottom of the boat with a hook in its mouth. A tangle of fishing line and some conch cut up on a piece of plywood. There was an old hickory butcher knife with dried conch still on the blade embedded into the plywood. All but the position of the knife seemed normal. But no Jelli.
Bruno got up right away and headed over to Jelli's house where his brother was calling from.
(7:56 am Nov 11, 2005)
Melody woke up and had a light breakfast. She took a quick shower and got dressed and then walked two blocks to the studio to begin work for the day. Now, you may find this hard to believe, but music was not melody's full time gig. It was something that she did on the side. Oh, it was something that she was full time alright, but she only did it on the side.
In actuality, Melody was an artist full time. She spent her days painting and sketching. Mostly island scenes, but she also ventured into the more abstract and, although she kept it separate from her main line of work by using a "pen name" for that part of her work, she also dabbled in scifi stuff.
She made a nice little income from that. Lately, a few of her works had been used as covers for some top selling scifi books. Her reputation in that genre was on the upswing. So was the income from that area.
Today, though, it would be seascapes. The time she spent painting the sea was some of her best. Perhaps it was because to her eye, there was always something musical about the sea. Something that called out to every fiber of her being. She often came up with some of her best tunes while painting the sea. Sometimes here in the studio, but often on location.
On location, sitting in light shade, the sun bright, the water so clear and blue that it almost hurt. The gentle breeze offering a little coolness to dry the glow on her face. Where had she heard the line, "Horses sweat, man perspire, but women glow?" Well, the breeze helped with the glowing.
(8:19 am Nov 11, 2005)
(5:54 pm Nov 11, 2005)
Fort.
We have already brushed by a few forts if I recall correctly, or in the parlance of the net, IIRC.
You have basically three forts in Nassau, four if you count the one that is no longer and more still depending on how loose a definition of forts you have. And that is if you are counting military type forts. If you want to count tree forts, good luck with that.
Let's see...
Fort Montague.
Fort Fincastle.
Fort Charlotte.
Fort Nassau. The one that is missing if you care to count it.
Fort Winton. Now we are into that loose definition. Most likely battery would be a better word. A cool place none the less.
Blackbeard's Tower. A stone tower on a ridge. How loose can we get?
Was there ever an old fort to go with Old Fort Bay? I can't seem to call up any memories at this point.
And then there are the childhood tree forts which we have agreed not to get into counting. They were a lot of fun though. Sometimes you will see them referred to as tree houses.
(6:11 pm Nov 11, 2005)
Ezza had known about some underground tunnels on the island, but he would not have dreamed that what he was finding could have been possible. He felt like he kept repeating himself with his amazement, both with himself and in his remarks to Cang. And if the tunnels were unbelievable, Ezza didn't know what to call the treasure. The sheer volume of treasure that they passed as the walked the passages was beyond belief. They were going to have to think long and hard as to what was they best way to deal with a treasure trove of this magnitude.
For now though, he and Cang spent their evening planning the next day's plans. Ezza was now happy at the compromise that Cang had talked him into. It was much better to walk the length of the tunnels and take in the immenseness of it all than to hang around near the entrance doing a detailed search. They would have time for that later if they kept their wits about them.
---
Jelli had still not turned up and Bruno, along with his family and friends were getting worried. No body had turned up. The police, the defense force and BASRA had all searched without result. A couple of his friends with small planes had gone up and others who scuba dived had gone down. No results there either. Other than his boat, safely anchoured, there was no trace of him.
Bruno was supposed to be going out with Melody again tonight, but his heart was not in it. He called her and asked her if she would come by Jelli's house where the family were gathered to go over what had been done and to make further plans. She agreed and he said he would drive by to pick her up.
---
Heath was back making his rounds of the harbour. He had still not figured out what had happened to Mr. Lee and he was still perturbed as a result. Right now, he was cruising under some of the large cruise ships checking out their hulls.
Dubloon.
Dubloon. Escudo. Gold. Spanish gold. The Spanish Main. Silver. Jewels. Treasure. (and for those of you from the sixties, a night spot popular with a certain crowd.) Pirates. Plunder. Hurricanes. Shipwrecks. Salvage. The Jolly Roger. Nassau.
Ezza suspected that much of the treasure they would find in the tunnels would be from the Spanish Main. Perhaps there would even be some from the orient. Cang agreed. XXIII was only mildly interested in the treasure, he was more interested in the history, at least that was what he claimed. Ezza was not so sure of that. How could you completely trust a soldier crab?
(6:44 pm Nov 11, 2005)
Bruno arrived back at Jelli's with Melody and they went inside. Jelli's brother Rocky was there as well his parents. His sister Cinnamon had gone out to get some chicken from the shack for everyone.
Bruno made introductions all around.
(6:50 pm Nov 11, 2005)
(7:22 pm Nov 11, 2005)
A horn tootled outside and Bruno looked out of the window. Cinnamon was pulling her Prelude into the driveway. Bruno and Melody went out to help her bring in the food.
Everyone sat around the house, eating and talking over the possibilities. Some were crying softly from time to time though trying to put on a brave face and not let anyone see them at it. No one wanted wailing to break out at this time.
Shortly after the food was over, Jelli's parents announced that they were going home to try and get some rest and encouraged everyone else to try and do likewise and that they would be back early in the morning to start again.
Bruno walked them out to their Fit and again expressed his encouragement. "Good to meet you Mrs. Rolle, see you in the morning sir.
---
Bing and Boom were in another club, further east than last night. There weren't may patrons here yet as da youts dem dese days tended to go home for a nap after work before waking up, getting something to eat and then dressing to go out for the night quite late.
It just did not make sense that they could not find a trace of Cang and XXIII. Unless they were actively trying to hide, that is. Had they made a grave mistake in trying to free XXIII that night in Spanish Wells. Could those two possibly know they were being actively hunted?
---
"Sal, I'm getting worried, Bing and Boom have not turned up any leads so far and time is marching on. We may not have much time. And I don't like the chances we have been taking without their knowledge either. Those are dangerous games we are playing there. We cannot keep them up for long before we are sure to get caught."
"I know Uncle, but what choices do we have? We can't sit around and just wait? Like you say, time may be running out on us. We have to do something."
---
Gold.
Gold. Au. 79. 196.9665. 1337.33. 3129.15. 1.79. 1.34. 2.4. 118.
2, 8, 18,32,18,1
Gold. Now most people immediately think of dancers when they hear the word although, due to the nature of this book so far, you may have thought of something else when you just read the word recently.
---
I've searched the whole train and I canna find him. (Cue laughter.)
---
There is a faint, greenish glow and the air is damp and salty. There is the sound of waves. The captives sit with their backs to the limestone walls, trying to find some comfort and get some rest. Each is handcuffed with hands behind the back and then the cuffs chained to an old, iron ring attached to the walls. They each have hoods over their heads so they cannot see one another, but they have been allowed to talk. They are taken one by one each day to another room to be fed and then to get some exercise before being hooded again and let back to be chained once more.
(7:51 pm Nov 11, 2005)
(8:15 pm Nov 11, 2005)
Bruno left to drop Melody home and then go home himself. Rocky said he would stay here in case Jelli turned up.
The two of them held hands during the drive home. Bruno scanned the dial on his FM and it locked on to a new station that claimed to be in testing mode. He liked some of their stuff but he was restless tonight and set the radio scanning again. Every once in a while, he told himself he would have to rig a clicker for his gadget.
He dropped Melody in front of her house and she leaned over and gave him a small kiss and squeezed his hand before getting out and going inside.
Bruno drove home in silence and tried to get his mind in gear for the writing he needed to try and do when he got home. He hoped there would be no power issues this weekend. He tried to do a little plotting and planning on the drive home as well.
(8:21 pm Nov 11, 2005)
(8:32 pm Nov 11, 2005)
Bruno got home and smiled as he heard Red singing. These street lights caused havoc with the birds sleeping patterns. As he approached the porch, he saw something scurry beneath it out of the corner of his eye.
He went inside and booted up Lobo. Tux soon grinned at him briefly. He went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of ice tea and a bag of roasted peanuts he had bought from a corner vendor earlier in the day.
He logged in and went through his routine in preparation for writing. Log into this IM accounts with gaim. Fire up xchat. Open firefox. Open an xterm. Change to the novel's data directory. Start up leo with the leo file for his novel. Start up abiword and load in today's chapter. Check his email and get rid of the mass quantities of spam and deal with the few remaining messages. Try and get something worthwhile written in abiword. Try to get some speed going. Try not to get sidetracked. Try not to get into the googling or editing temporal black holes.
Try and hit his daily goal of two thousand words. Tonight though, he was in a bind, cause he was way behind and he would have to try and write faster and make some headway on his task of catching up to where he should be. He must not stay up too late though as he wanted to crank out at least two days quota tomorrow and the next day.
He loaded up a quiet playlist in xmms and fell into a zone, his fingers making music as the tapped the keys.
(8:46 pm Nov 11, 2005)
Wreck.
Wreck. Wrecking. A one time "industry" in the Bahamas. If you come to the islands, ask around for some wrecking stories, or, if you have internet access, try googling for yourself.
It is one thing to salvage the contents of a ship that runs aground, to help save the people from the ship. It is another entirely to set a light in the wrong place in order to lead the ship onto the reef.
That is all I shall say here. Remember, ask around. It is amazing the wealth of knowledge that resides in the older generation. (Knowledge that is fast being lost, I might add.) Even in the smaller communities, perhaps even especially in the smaller communities.
The incessant ringing of the phone woke Bruno from a vivid dream, a dream of musical energy. It was Jelli's brother asking if Bruno knew what had happened to him. It seems Cay Dreams had been found anchoured off Dick's Point this morning but there was no sing of Jelli. There was a large slippery dick in the bottom of the boat with a hook in its mouth. A tangle of fishing line and some conch cut up on a piece of plywood. There was an old hickory butcher knife with dried conch still on the blade embedded into the plywood. All but the position of the knife seemed normal. But no Jelli.
Bruno got up right away and headed over to Jelli's house where his brother was calling from.
(7:56 am Nov 11, 2005)
Melody woke up and had a light breakfast. She took a quick shower and got dressed and then walked two blocks to the studio to begin work for the day. Now, you may find this hard to believe, but music was not melody's full time gig. It was something that she did on the side. Oh, it was something that she was full time alright, but she only did it on the side.
In actuality, Melody was an artist full time. She spent her days painting and sketching. Mostly island scenes, but she also ventured into the more abstract and, although she kept it separate from her main line of work by using a "pen name" for that part of her work, she also dabbled in scifi stuff.
She made a nice little income from that. Lately, a few of her works had been used as covers for some top selling scifi books. Her reputation in that genre was on the upswing. So was the income from that area.
Today, though, it would be seascapes. The time she spent painting the sea was some of her best. Perhaps it was because to her eye, there was always something musical about the sea. Something that called out to every fiber of her being. She often came up with some of her best tunes while painting the sea. Sometimes here in the studio, but often on location.
On location, sitting in light shade, the sun bright, the water so clear and blue that it almost hurt. The gentle breeze offering a little coolness to dry the glow on her face. Where had she heard the line, "Horses sweat, man perspire, but women glow?" Well, the breeze helped with the glowing.
(8:19 am Nov 11, 2005)
(5:54 pm Nov 11, 2005)
Fort.
We have already brushed by a few forts if I recall correctly, or in the parlance of the net, IIRC.
You have basically three forts in Nassau, four if you count the one that is no longer and more still depending on how loose a definition of forts you have. And that is if you are counting military type forts. If you want to count tree forts, good luck with that.
Let's see...
Fort Montague.
Fort Fincastle.
Fort Charlotte.
Fort Nassau. The one that is missing if you care to count it.
Fort Winton. Now we are into that loose definition. Most likely battery would be a better word. A cool place none the less.
Blackbeard's Tower. A stone tower on a ridge. How loose can we get?
Was there ever an old fort to go with Old Fort Bay? I can't seem to call up any memories at this point.
And then there are the childhood tree forts which we have agreed not to get into counting. They were a lot of fun though. Sometimes you will see them referred to as tree houses.
(6:11 pm Nov 11, 2005)
Ezza had known about some underground tunnels on the island, but he would not have dreamed that what he was finding could have been possible. He felt like he kept repeating himself with his amazement, both with himself and in his remarks to Cang. And if the tunnels were unbelievable, Ezza didn't know what to call the treasure. The sheer volume of treasure that they passed as the walked the passages was beyond belief. They were going to have to think long and hard as to what was they best way to deal with a treasure trove of this magnitude.
For now though, he and Cang spent their evening planning the next day's plans. Ezza was now happy at the compromise that Cang had talked him into. It was much better to walk the length of the tunnels and take in the immenseness of it all than to hang around near the entrance doing a detailed search. They would have time for that later if they kept their wits about them.
---
Jelli had still not turned up and Bruno, along with his family and friends were getting worried. No body had turned up. The police, the defense force and BASRA had all searched without result. A couple of his friends with small planes had gone up and others who scuba dived had gone down. No results there either. Other than his boat, safely anchoured, there was no trace of him.
Bruno was supposed to be going out with Melody again tonight, but his heart was not in it. He called her and asked her if she would come by Jelli's house where the family were gathered to go over what had been done and to make further plans. She agreed and he said he would drive by to pick her up.
---
Heath was back making his rounds of the harbour. He had still not figured out what had happened to Mr. Lee and he was still perturbed as a result. Right now, he was cruising under some of the large cruise ships checking out their hulls.
Dubloon.
Dubloon. Escudo. Gold. Spanish gold. The Spanish Main. Silver. Jewels. Treasure. (and for those of you from the sixties, a night spot popular with a certain crowd.) Pirates. Plunder. Hurricanes. Shipwrecks. Salvage. The Jolly Roger. Nassau.
Ezza suspected that much of the treasure they would find in the tunnels would be from the Spanish Main. Perhaps there would even be some from the orient. Cang agreed. XXIII was only mildly interested in the treasure, he was more interested in the history, at least that was what he claimed. Ezza was not so sure of that. How could you completely trust a soldier crab?
(6:44 pm Nov 11, 2005)
Bruno arrived back at Jelli's with Melody and they went inside. Jelli's brother Rocky was there as well his parents. His sister Cinnamon had gone out to get some chicken from the shack for everyone.
Bruno made introductions all around.
(6:50 pm Nov 11, 2005)
(7:22 pm Nov 11, 2005)
A horn tootled outside and Bruno looked out of the window. Cinnamon was pulling her Prelude into the driveway. Bruno and Melody went out to help her bring in the food.
Everyone sat around the house, eating and talking over the possibilities. Some were crying softly from time to time though trying to put on a brave face and not let anyone see them at it. No one wanted wailing to break out at this time.
Shortly after the food was over, Jelli's parents announced that they were going home to try and get some rest and encouraged everyone else to try and do likewise and that they would be back early in the morning to start again.
Bruno walked them out to their Fit and again expressed his encouragement. "Good to meet you Mrs. Rolle, see you in the morning sir.
---
Bing and Boom were in another club, further east than last night. There weren't may patrons here yet as da youts dem dese days tended to go home for a nap after work before waking up, getting something to eat and then dressing to go out for the night quite late.
It just did not make sense that they could not find a trace of Cang and XXIII. Unless they were actively trying to hide, that is. Had they made a grave mistake in trying to free XXIII that night in Spanish Wells. Could those two possibly know they were being actively hunted?
---
"Sal, I'm getting worried, Bing and Boom have not turned up any leads so far and time is marching on. We may not have much time. And I don't like the chances we have been taking without their knowledge either. Those are dangerous games we are playing there. We cannot keep them up for long before we are sure to get caught."
"I know Uncle, but what choices do we have? We can't sit around and just wait? Like you say, time may be running out on us. We have to do something."
---
Gold.
Gold. Au. 79. 196.9665. 1337.33. 3129.15. 1.79. 1.34. 2.4. 118.
2, 8, 18,32,18,1
Gold. Now most people immediately think of dancers when they hear the word although, due to the nature of this book so far, you may have thought of something else when you just read the word recently.
---
I've searched the whole train and I canna find him. (Cue laughter.)
---
There is a faint, greenish glow and the air is damp and salty. There is the sound of waves. The captives sit with their backs to the limestone walls, trying to find some comfort and get some rest. Each is handcuffed with hands behind the back and then the cuffs chained to an old, iron ring attached to the walls. They each have hoods over their heads so they cannot see one another, but they have been allowed to talk. They are taken one by one each day to another room to be fed and then to get some exercise before being hooded again and let back to be chained once more.
(7:51 pm Nov 11, 2005)
(8:15 pm Nov 11, 2005)
Bruno left to drop Melody home and then go home himself. Rocky said he would stay here in case Jelli turned up.
The two of them held hands during the drive home. Bruno scanned the dial on his FM and it locked on to a new station that claimed to be in testing mode. He liked some of their stuff but he was restless tonight and set the radio scanning again. Every once in a while, he told himself he would have to rig a clicker for his gadget.
He dropped Melody in front of her house and she leaned over and gave him a small kiss and squeezed his hand before getting out and going inside.
Bruno drove home in silence and tried to get his mind in gear for the writing he needed to try and do when he got home. He hoped there would be no power issues this weekend. He tried to do a little plotting and planning on the drive home as well.
(8:21 pm Nov 11, 2005)
(8:32 pm Nov 11, 2005)
Bruno got home and smiled as he heard Red singing. These street lights caused havoc with the birds sleeping patterns. As he approached the porch, he saw something scurry beneath it out of the corner of his eye.
He went inside and booted up Lobo. Tux soon grinned at him briefly. He went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of ice tea and a bag of roasted peanuts he had bought from a corner vendor earlier in the day.
He logged in and went through his routine in preparation for writing. Log into this IM accounts with gaim. Fire up xchat. Open firefox. Open an xterm. Change to the novel's data directory. Start up leo with the leo file for his novel. Start up abiword and load in today's chapter. Check his email and get rid of the mass quantities of spam and deal with the few remaining messages. Try and get something worthwhile written in abiword. Try to get some speed going. Try not to get sidetracked. Try not to get into the googling or editing temporal black holes.
Try and hit his daily goal of two thousand words. Tonight though, he was in a bind, cause he was way behind and he would have to try and write faster and make some headway on his task of catching up to where he should be. He must not stay up too late though as he wanted to crank out at least two days quota tomorrow and the next day.
He loaded up a quiet playlist in xmms and fell into a zone, his fingers making music as the tapped the keys.
(8:46 pm Nov 11, 2005)
12. Tings Nov 12
(8:02 am Nov 12, 2005)
Curb.
Bruno pulled over to the curb, stopped his car and got out. Nope, just fooling, we are not talking that kind of curb. After all, if we were, the curb salad we are about to mention would be unmentionable. Poof.
Aha! I knew you would get upset. Just cause I'm winning! (Cue laughter.)
Curb. And we wouldn't want to curb your appetite for that salad we are about to mention either. Not that kind of curn either then.
Curb. Mollusk. Overlapping plates. Chiton. Now we are getting there. Now, I am not sure that I should be telling our national secrets here in this book, but here goes.
Curb salad is a lesser known cousin to conch salad. Not because curbs are cousins to conchs. Mind you, they are both mollusks so some would consider them cousins of a sort. No, because the salads themselves are cousins.
How much lesser known, why do I label it a secret? Well, a google for "conch salad" reveals:
Results 1 - 10 of about 22,500 for "conch salad". (0.14 seconds)
Just a short while ago. While a google for "curb salad" reveals:
Results 1 - 3 of 3 for "curb salad". (0.02 seconds)
Just now. And honestly, none look like they have anything to do with our subject matter. And a search for "chiton salad", to use the name more common outside of these islands, reveals:
Your search - "chiton salad" - did not match any documents.
Zilch. So, while we play up conch salad world wide, we keep curb salad to ourselves. I will leave it to you to figure out why.
(8:22 am Nov 12, 2005)
So, Bruno wasn't really pulling into a curb just now and he wasn't eating curb salad either. No, he was in front of Lobo working on his nano words. He had been since 5:30 in the morning trying to do some catching up before heading over to Jelli's at nine. Jelli's disappearance was deeply troubling yet Bruno felt strangely hopeful given the circumstances. There were other friends better equipped to do the searching and they were doing so without tires. Not without Tyres mind you. Some of the search vehicles obviously had tyres. Some not so obviously had tyres too. Poor man's bumpers you know.
Although he wanted to join in the search, he felt he could be most helpful in helping the family cope. So he planned on spending the day at Jelli's. Perhaps he would take Lobo and get in a little writing if the opportunity presented itself.
Concentrate. Write while you can. It is tough to write when other thoughts are intruding. At times, pushing these thoughts aside in an attempt to free up the words can result in feelings of guilt. I mean, how can you ignore something so important just to be able to produce a jumble of words. This and so much more can lead to the dreaded BLOCK!
He liked this quote from "The Lines":
"I have heard it called a block but at times
It seems more like restraining chains
Arresting the motion of the arm and the working of the brain"
Yes, that often summed things up for Bruno these days. And it wasn't even a case of "the faster I go the behinder I get." He couldn't even seem to get the speed up other than in short spurts.
Clear the mind. Concentrate. Get into the characters. Get into the situations. Feel the rhythm of the story.
(8:45 am Nov 12, 2005)
(9:14 am Nov 12, 2005)
Potcake.
Potcake. That hard caked stuff that forms at the bottom of the pot when you burn it a bit. Especially your peas n rice. Traditionally thrown to the mongrels in the yard.
Hence potcake. A breed of Bahamian dog. An un-breed of Bahamian dog? The type of dog commonly seen in the islands before all of these fancy schmancy breeds started to invade the land. Still widely seen although, as the fancy pants breeds spread their influence, things were not so clear as they once were. No, these days you could see pitcakes, potbulls, potweillers, rotcakes, potoodles, poodcakes, and more besides, it was getting out of hand. Mind you, potcakes themselves had been out of hand for a long time.
You know that story just above about how potcakes came by their name? There is an alternate story which I will leave to the gentle reader to uncover on their own.
Now, although Rumelga Prue was herself a potcake, she considered herself a better sort of potcake than the ones who hung out around Retirement Park. Well, that's not quite how she felt, as she considered all creatures equal. Well, that's not quite it either, these thoughts get difficult to express properly. If you are not careful, you can end up insulting and inflaming those you had not intended to.
Still, it was these feelings referred to here that had lead her to undertake the drastic measures in the past to save Ringo Bob when he had abandoned all hope in his search for Snappy Jack and had taken to hanging out with the potcakes around Retirement Park. When he had almost reached the point of No Deposit/No Return.
She had risked her Blue Nylon Thread fortune in her efforts to save him. In the process helping John Q. Turbot invent a new type of user voice activated, password protected, voice message record and play back, post-it notes.
(9:37 am Nov 12, 2005)
Now, if you have never read the story of Ringo Bob, Superdog, and you may never get to for various and sundry reasons, you may not be wondering about that something very odd in the sand that Rumelga and Ringo came upon as they were combing the beaches of Rose Island.
Even if you have read Ringo Bob, Superdog, you may not be wondering about that something. I mean, what are the chances that you would be wondering about it at the very same time I am writing about it. Probably astro-nimical.
Now, you may end up wondering about it as you read this, but I am talking about you wondering about it as I write it. See the difference?
Oooooh. For next year's nano, I can set up some sort of read only chatroom where people can watch the novel being written in real time. Of course, it would have to save a copy to a file at the same time. I don't see a quick way to make an IRC channel read only. I will have to look into options.
(9:51 am Nov 12, 2005)
All of that just to give you a little better feel for potcakes. You remember Froggy don't you?
Bondo.
Well, what can I say? In the islands, these products are commonly associated with automotive repair.
Bondo Box. Well, when used in this fashion in the islands, perhaps more with automotive disrepair.
A bondo box is a vehicle which you often see driving on the streets of the nation. A vehicle with reddish spots spread over various areas of its anatomy as it were. Unfinished repairs as it were. This is a bondo box. Not a cola nut though, just a bondo box. It may also have plastic, clear or not, duct taped over a window in place of the more common glass. It may exhibit visible emissions from various locations about itself. A Bondo Box. Get yours today. (Cue fast talking in a low voice covering matters of legal import.)
(10:01 am Nov 12, 2005)
After getting back from his harrowing adventures up in Spanish Wells, Cang had parked his moke in a garage on a friend's out of the way estate and had bought himself a bondo box from the local classifieds. He immediately named it "No Satisfaction" after Henry Morgan's wrecked ship. He had been driving it since his return, only when absolutely necessary and always wearing a disguise. If XXIII had to go with him he always stayed out of sight on the floor under an old rag.
(10:28 am Nov 12, 2005)
"No satisfaction" was parked along the side of the road in a quiet neighbourhood about a half mile from the eastern entrance to the tunnels. It had been there since before sunrise. Cang, XXIII, and Ezza were long gone. Underground. Miles away. They were trying to solve the puzzle of the latest door when they heard voices on the other side.
---
Bruddah Bing passed by "No Satisfaction" without so much as a second look. There was simply nothing remarkable about another bondo box parked by the side of the road.
He was headed up east to Yamacraw for a short swim and to begin working his search back west.
---
"So Sal, any news of that caveman and his traitorous soldier friend?"
"None yet, Uncle Albert, but they can't hide forever. They may have gone to ground somewhere or they may have left the island completely. We have checked with our contacts at the airlines and the cruise lines and they did not turn up. Of course, if they left on a smaller boat, there is no easy way to track that down."
---
Cang motioned to XXIII and Ezza to be quite. They stood dead still and listened. There were voices on the other side of the door discussing them. Discussing their hunting them.
(10:39 am Nov 12, 2005)
CB.
CB. ABCBEFG. No, that's not right. CB. CB Radio. Citizen's Band Radio. But not Bahamian Citizens. None the less, these were hot at one time in the islands. People had handles. Handles had morphed and made a comeback, but CBs had not. VHF radios never went out of style in the out islands. The Cruiser's Net was especially popular in Abaco. But the CB had generally fallen by the wayside.
Handles had waxed and waned a few times. After CBs, they were popular on BBSs for a while before they got really popular with the coming of the internet to the islands. Those jammin boys with their C-Band satellite link to Colorado had sure ushered in changes to these parts. Sorry for the possible confusion there, but C-Band satellite is not Citizens Band Satellite. Just one of those acronym anomalies that we have to seal with in life. Ping times were horrific and bandwidth maxed out at 28.8 if you were dead lucky but it sure beat the waffle system and the long distance charges if you wanted to access an off island BBS.
Nick names and handles have much in common but are not the same.
You look down and see toilet paper hanging on the line to dry. (Cue laughter.)
(11:08 am Nov 12, 2005)
It is a good thing that CBs faded and never made a comeback. At least the soldiers saw it that way. They used CBs for covert communications. Sure, everything was in the clear and there wasn't a whole lot of traffic to hide your messages in, but these were problems that could be practically worked around for their purposes.
They had developed a code for passing their messages. Just a simple one, but they tended not to pass too many messages and they were not generally of too sensitive a nature. As to the lack of traffic, one brilliant soldier had come up with the bright idea of feeding the text from some of the channels where locals tended to hang out into a text to speech program before broadcasting it over various bands. He had hooked the relay to key the mic to cut out between posts and they had rigged different voices to play with the posts from the different handles. It sounded cheesy, but it served.
They had had to change the code since XXIII had hooked up with Cang. How could they know, that despite this precaution, their efforts would prove without fruit.
You see, XXIII could not understand what was coming in over the radios as it came in, and he could not understand what Sal and Uncle Albert said when they keyed up the mic to respond or to give directions, but, when the mic was not keyed and Sal and Uncle Albert were discussing what they had just learned or how to respond, that he and the others understood perfectly.
XXIII kicked himself for not thinking of getting a CB earlier. Not really, just mentally or to use a hot term, virtually. He realized that it would have done them no good, but he kicked himself for not thinking of it anyway.
He would have to be sharper from now on. Plus, it may just help if he could listen a bit longer. The new code was beginning to make sense the more he heard. He could tell it was a variation of the old one which all soldiers were taught in soldier school.
(11:24 am Nov 12, 2005)
(6:00 pm Nov 12, 2005)
Potent.
Potent. If you hang out in the islands long enough, you are liable to hear someone say that someone is impotent. Now, they are not likely talking about something requiring a dose of love vine tea or some strongback. No, they mean the person is a big shot.
I mention this as a way to introduce the issue of the potency and efficacy of bush medicine.
Now that I have introduced it, I will leave you to get acquainted while I go ahead and mingle. I'll see you around.
(6:16 pm Nov 12, 2005)
Bulla sat at home. Another Saturday night and once again he didn't have anybody. Saturday night, he needed some excitement. One of his main problems was that he considered Saturday night to be a night for fighting. His mother was constantly telling him it would bring him no good when he was young. He sure missed his mother. His friends were more interested in being lovers on the weekends, but come Saturday, Bulla felt a fighting mood begin to grow in him. Had done for as long as he could remember. Lately though, it did not seem to be enough for him.
Bulla didn't look like trouble. Perhaps that was one of his many advantages when it came to fighting. He was easy to underestimate. You would think by now, on a small island like this, word would have spread and people would not mess with him any more. For some reason, when he messed with their minds, they still would step up and pick on him. Bulla smiled at the thought. Perhaps it was that the Bahamas needed someone to write about him the way that American fella had written about Jim and Slim and Leroy and that guy who was married to Doris.
Perhaps one day. Any of you Bahamian songwriters up for it?
Yes, the usual round of fighting in the clubs and on the streets was getting stale. Had been for a year or more. He still went out looking for trouble every few Saturdays but he wanted more.
"You looking for trouble?"
"Yeah man, have you seen him?" (Cue laughter.)
About six months ago, he had hitched up with an underground group that went out and hunted attack trained rotties and other major dogs armed only with bronze wrist cuffs and three eighteen inch leather thongs. They dressed only in loin cloths while hunting. The object was to bring back the dogs alive and well but trussed up.
You verified your success and then released the dogs. Not many people are aware of the non-connection between this underground hunting club and that famous song. Wink, wink. Index finger to the nose, & etc.
The newness of it and the challenge had made it fun for a while until he had gotten good at it, then it began to get a little boring for him.
Tonight, he and a few of the other hard cases who liked the edge were going to try their had at something a little more extreme.
The plan was to go out in a boat with chum and hunt sharks. Not go fishing for sharks mind you. Hunt them. Fins, mask, dive knife. Speedo. That's about it. Since tonight was the first time, two people were going to provide muscle with bang sticks until they made sure it was possible to do what they were out to try. Three would hunt tonight. I mean, the five of them were ... but they weren't .... if you know what I mean.
Solid.
Solid. Not liquid, not gas. Solid. Man dat gal, she solid.
(6:43 pm Nov 12, 2005)
Bulla's boat was solid. It was named "Dat gal solid" and she was. Well built and overpowered. Many of the boats in the islands were overpowered. The locals just seemed to like their boats that way.
They were loading up at a marina on the southern shore of the island. The plan was to head out south and try their little experiment in about thirty feet of water or less near some heads and small reefs.
---
Mizmocha was solid too. She had an attitude to match. She did not put up with any foolishness whatsoever. I mean none. And don't try to slide anything by her either. Nuh uh. Don't even try dat!
Her close friends called he Mocha and she liked that. Other people she knew called her Mizmocha or Miz, and she liked that too.
Mocha liked fast cars and slow men, at least, easy going men. She was not into hard cases. That song about wanting a thug did not apply to her.
Mocha was supposed to be meeting Melody at a club tonight. Melody had wanted to introduce her to her new flame, Bruno, but he might not be able to make it as his friend had gone missing from his boat. When she had just called on the phone, Melody had said that he would try to make it, even if only for a short while, but that they were to go ahead and he would join them if he could.
From all melody had told her, this Bruno sounded like he had the kind of personality Mocha wanted in a man.
(7:10 pm Nov 12, 2005)
Baldy was on the prowl tonight. Out hunting. With baldy though, hunting was not a play play thing. With baldy, hunting was deadly serious. A matter of life and death. Hopefully the death of his prey and life giving nourishment for him.
Even though he was made for it, the night was a dangerous thing. Crossing roads was taking your life in your hands. And getting discovered was worse. It was a funny thing. He evoked extreme fear in many, but it was just the fear he evoked that he himself feared. Because when his kind was discovered, it was the fear that they evoked in others that lead to the violent, over the top response that those others responded with.
First there was the stabbing light. You could freeze and hope not to be seen, our you could run for the shadows and hope not to be discovered. It was a tossup and neither plan was safe.
Then, if you were discovered, they brought out the big guns. Brooms, sticks, rocks. They also brought out chemical weapons and fire throwers. They were serious bringers of death.
Baldy understood this on one level as he was a bringer of death to his prey as well. What he didn't quite understand was that he was not their prey. They weren't looking to eat him. That he could at least understand. he had glimpsed something on the television one night a while back.
(7:21 pm Nov 12, 2005)
(7:30 pm Nov 12, 2005)
Woah, a little time warp action there. Baldy came to. Yes that show fas frightening. It was couched as a documentary, but Baldy thought sure it mus have been a horror movie. It was about this place in Asia there the people ate his kind. Went out hunting them and deep fried them before eating them as a crunchy snack food.
Though he could understand the motivation of the hunt, if that show was true, he thought he preferred to live here where they may kill you out of fear if they came upon you, at least they did not go out and actively hunt you.
Champion.
Champion. Champ. Hero. Star. Master. Top dog. Vanquisher. Winner. Advocate. Exponent. Promoter.
No one knew who the Champion Pegger of the island was. You see. It was a tradition at the underground pegging club that all come masked. A modern day masked ball and joust combined as it were.
When you first applied to be a contestant in the lignum wars, you were assigned a tournament name, colours, and a coat of arms. You competed thusly and could develop a reputation and even a following under your nom de guerre as it were. Some even had groupies and roadies. It was quite a scene.
Now, when we said that this was an underground scene, we failed to elaborate. It was underground, but not deeply underground. True, it was deeper underground than the local numbers games.
(7:48 pm Nov 12, 2005)
(8:05 pm Nov 12, 2005)
The current pegging champion was known as Vikta D. and he had been the champion for six months now.
Another thing about underground pegging which we have so far failed to mention is that the tops themselves are also given names and birth dates. The day when they are first introduced into competition is their official birth date and they are also given a name on the same occasion. Once they enter competition, they can never go home again. Until they die, after each competition, they are sealed by their champion into their homes and then their homes are sealed by the pegging barons into the pegging palace. A trusted guard is then set over the palace twenty four hours a day.
Vikta D's top was called Chocolate. He had chosen it somewhat whimsically so that when he split another top, he could cry, "Death by chocolate!" Chocolate had been his top since two months before he had won the championship. It was a remarkable run for a top.
Snatch.
Snatch. Snatch and grab. Clean and jerk. Down and dirty.
Man, when I see dey had da wrong price on dem furnitures, I snatch dem right up.
Man, dat linux ting, when I see dat, I snatch it before it get away.
Bullet Head say one alien snatch him last week and make him drive da UFO in one alien rumble.
Dat boy een good in da head.
Man I roach him, an when he see us out together, he try snatch her back.
I believe one shark mussee snatch dat boy Jelli out he boat.
Snatch.
I will tell you this much at least. Jelli was not snatched out of Cay Dreams by any shark of any sort.
---
Baldy was out on the prowl. Moving in dark spaces. He was hoping to cathc himself a frog tonight.
---
Bruno was sitting in front of Lobo writing. The problem was, the research temporal black hole was dogging him again. Time was marching on and he had too much to do. He had managed to get in a good amount of writing today sitting on the front porch at Jelli's house. Some in the family were getting a bit frantic and that was understandable. Mr. Rolle and he had had a long talk and Mr. Rolle was in agreement with Bruno that, as bad as things looked, they were for some reason confident that things would turn out OK in the end. He thought it best if those more clear headed ones could establish some sort of order and regularity to their admittedly unsettling schedule and situation.
That had seemed to help others to settle down somewhat.
Bruno wanted to get another five hundred words in before cleaning up and going back to Jelli's for about an hour and then on to meet with melody and her friend.
---
(8:43 pm Nov 12, 2005)
A loud cheer went up from the expectant crowd. Lignum Slayah walked out onto the tarmac with his Stone Spinah and raised his hands in salute to the gathered crowd. The cheer got even louder. He carefully wound the string around Stone Spinah and raised his arm over his head. With a mighty downward motion, he unleashed the Spinah at the line on the ground. A hole appeared about a tenth of an inch from the edge of the white line. He looped his string around Spinah's peg and popped him into the air. The crowd went wild. Catching him on his palm he walked over to his seat and sat down with the Spinah still spinning strongly for a good while.
The challenge was issued. The gauntlet was thrown down as it were.
Unbelievably, the noise level went up even more when Vikta D. walked out with Chocolate.
(8:50 pm Nov 12, 2005)
He wound his cord lovingly around Chocolate's beautiful, firm curving body, before raising her high in the sky and then unleashing her destruction upon the earth.
Vikta D. of all the peggers on the island, thought of his top as a female. In fact, Chocolate was the only top that he had ever had that was a female. But what a female.
There was a new hole, exactly in the centre of the white line. Vikta D. smiled and reached down and picked up Chocolate.
The battle was joined. Slayah's second placed Spinah on the ground, lined up along the white line.
Vikta D. stood and again lovingly wound his cord around Chocolate. Lifted her high. Once again, he unleashed her destruction, only this time upon the still, waiting body of Stone Spinah.
She came down fast, and she came down hard.
"Death by Chocolate!"
Just like that, it was over. Vikta D. and Chocolate were still champions. Chocolate was still untouched in battle.
The room was silent, almost stunned.
Vikta D. smiled and waved graciously before talking quietly with Lignum Slayah and going back to the holding area.
Pegging was unusual in that they put the big battles at the front of the card. There was still a lot more pegging to be done tonight.
(9:06 pm Nov 12, 2005)
Curb.
Bruno pulled over to the curb, stopped his car and got out. Nope, just fooling, we are not talking that kind of curb. After all, if we were, the curb salad we are about to mention would be unmentionable. Poof.
Aha! I knew you would get upset. Just cause I'm winning! (Cue laughter.)
Curb. And we wouldn't want to curb your appetite for that salad we are about to mention either. Not that kind of curn either then.
Curb. Mollusk. Overlapping plates. Chiton. Now we are getting there. Now, I am not sure that I should be telling our national secrets here in this book, but here goes.
Curb salad is a lesser known cousin to conch salad. Not because curbs are cousins to conchs. Mind you, they are both mollusks so some would consider them cousins of a sort. No, because the salads themselves are cousins.
How much lesser known, why do I label it a secret? Well, a google for "conch salad" reveals:
Results 1 - 10 of about 22,500 for "conch salad". (0.14 seconds)
Just a short while ago. While a google for "curb salad" reveals:
Results 1 - 3 of 3 for "curb salad". (0.02 seconds)
Just now. And honestly, none look like they have anything to do with our subject matter. And a search for "chiton salad", to use the name more common outside of these islands, reveals:
Your search - "chiton salad" - did not match any documents.
Zilch. So, while we play up conch salad world wide, we keep curb salad to ourselves. I will leave it to you to figure out why.
(8:22 am Nov 12, 2005)
So, Bruno wasn't really pulling into a curb just now and he wasn't eating curb salad either. No, he was in front of Lobo working on his nano words. He had been since 5:30 in the morning trying to do some catching up before heading over to Jelli's at nine. Jelli's disappearance was deeply troubling yet Bruno felt strangely hopeful given the circumstances. There were other friends better equipped to do the searching and they were doing so without tires. Not without Tyres mind you. Some of the search vehicles obviously had tyres. Some not so obviously had tyres too. Poor man's bumpers you know.
Although he wanted to join in the search, he felt he could be most helpful in helping the family cope. So he planned on spending the day at Jelli's. Perhaps he would take Lobo and get in a little writing if the opportunity presented itself.
Concentrate. Write while you can. It is tough to write when other thoughts are intruding. At times, pushing these thoughts aside in an attempt to free up the words can result in feelings of guilt. I mean, how can you ignore something so important just to be able to produce a jumble of words. This and so much more can lead to the dreaded BLOCK!
He liked this quote from "The Lines":
"I have heard it called a block but at times
It seems more like restraining chains
Arresting the motion of the arm and the working of the brain"
Yes, that often summed things up for Bruno these days. And it wasn't even a case of "the faster I go the behinder I get." He couldn't even seem to get the speed up other than in short spurts.
Clear the mind. Concentrate. Get into the characters. Get into the situations. Feel the rhythm of the story.
(8:45 am Nov 12, 2005)
(9:14 am Nov 12, 2005)
Potcake.
Potcake. That hard caked stuff that forms at the bottom of the pot when you burn it a bit. Especially your peas n rice. Traditionally thrown to the mongrels in the yard.
Hence potcake. A breed of Bahamian dog. An un-breed of Bahamian dog? The type of dog commonly seen in the islands before all of these fancy schmancy breeds started to invade the land. Still widely seen although, as the fancy pants breeds spread their influence, things were not so clear as they once were. No, these days you could see pitcakes, potbulls, potweillers, rotcakes, potoodles, poodcakes, and more besides, it was getting out of hand. Mind you, potcakes themselves had been out of hand for a long time.
You know that story just above about how potcakes came by their name? There is an alternate story which I will leave to the gentle reader to uncover on their own.
Now, although Rumelga Prue was herself a potcake, she considered herself a better sort of potcake than the ones who hung out around Retirement Park. Well, that's not quite how she felt, as she considered all creatures equal. Well, that's not quite it either, these thoughts get difficult to express properly. If you are not careful, you can end up insulting and inflaming those you had not intended to.
Still, it was these feelings referred to here that had lead her to undertake the drastic measures in the past to save Ringo Bob when he had abandoned all hope in his search for Snappy Jack and had taken to hanging out with the potcakes around Retirement Park. When he had almost reached the point of No Deposit/No Return.
She had risked her Blue Nylon Thread fortune in her efforts to save him. In the process helping John Q. Turbot invent a new type of user voice activated, password protected, voice message record and play back, post-it notes.
(9:37 am Nov 12, 2005)
Now, if you have never read the story of Ringo Bob, Superdog, and you may never get to for various and sundry reasons, you may not be wondering about that something very odd in the sand that Rumelga and Ringo came upon as they were combing the beaches of Rose Island.
Even if you have read Ringo Bob, Superdog, you may not be wondering about that something. I mean, what are the chances that you would be wondering about it at the very same time I am writing about it. Probably astro-nimical.
Now, you may end up wondering about it as you read this, but I am talking about you wondering about it as I write it. See the difference?
(9:51 am Nov 12, 2005)
All of that just to give you a little better feel for potcakes. You remember Froggy don't you?
Bondo.
Well, what can I say? In the islands, these products are commonly associated with automotive repair.
Bondo Box. Well, when used in this fashion in the islands, perhaps more with automotive disrepair.
A bondo box is a vehicle which you often see driving on the streets of the nation. A vehicle with reddish spots spread over various areas of its anatomy as it were. Unfinished repairs as it were. This is a bondo box. Not a cola nut though, just a bondo box. It may also have plastic, clear or not, duct taped over a window in place of the more common glass. It may exhibit visible emissions from various locations about itself. A Bondo Box. Get yours today. (Cue fast talking in a low voice covering matters of legal import.)
(10:01 am Nov 12, 2005)
After getting back from his harrowing adventures up in Spanish Wells, Cang had parked his moke in a garage on a friend's out of the way estate and had bought himself a bondo box from the local classifieds. He immediately named it "No Satisfaction" after Henry Morgan's wrecked ship. He had been driving it since his return, only when absolutely necessary and always wearing a disguise. If XXIII had to go with him he always stayed out of sight on the floor under an old rag.
(10:28 am Nov 12, 2005)
"No satisfaction" was parked along the side of the road in a quiet neighbourhood about a half mile from the eastern entrance to the tunnels. It had been there since before sunrise. Cang, XXIII, and Ezza were long gone. Underground. Miles away. They were trying to solve the puzzle of the latest door when they heard voices on the other side.
---
Bruddah Bing passed by "No Satisfaction" without so much as a second look. There was simply nothing remarkable about another bondo box parked by the side of the road.
He was headed up east to Yamacraw for a short swim and to begin working his search back west.
---
"So Sal, any news of that caveman and his traitorous soldier friend?"
"None yet, Uncle Albert, but they can't hide forever. They may have gone to ground somewhere or they may have left the island completely. We have checked with our contacts at the airlines and the cruise lines and they did not turn up. Of course, if they left on a smaller boat, there is no easy way to track that down."
---
Cang motioned to XXIII and Ezza to be quite. They stood dead still and listened. There were voices on the other side of the door discussing them. Discussing their hunting them.
(10:39 am Nov 12, 2005)
CB.
CB. ABCBEFG. No, that's not right. CB. CB Radio. Citizen's Band Radio. But not Bahamian Citizens. None the less, these were hot at one time in the islands. People had handles. Handles had morphed and made a comeback, but CBs had not. VHF radios never went out of style in the out islands. The Cruiser's Net was especially popular in Abaco. But the CB had generally fallen by the wayside.
Handles had waxed and waned a few times. After CBs, they were popular on BBSs for a while before they got really popular with the coming of the internet to the islands. Those jammin boys with their C-Band satellite link to Colorado had sure ushered in changes to these parts. Sorry for the possible confusion there, but C-Band satellite is not Citizens Band Satellite. Just one of those acronym anomalies that we have to seal with in life. Ping times were horrific and bandwidth maxed out at 28.8 if you were dead lucky but it sure beat the waffle system and the long distance charges if you wanted to access an off island BBS.
Nick names and handles have much in common but are not the same.
You look down and see toilet paper hanging on the line to dry. (Cue laughter.)
(11:08 am Nov 12, 2005)
It is a good thing that CBs faded and never made a comeback. At least the soldiers saw it that way. They used CBs for covert communications. Sure, everything was in the clear and there wasn't a whole lot of traffic to hide your messages in, but these were problems that could be practically worked around for their purposes.
They had developed a code for passing their messages. Just a simple one, but they tended not to pass too many messages and they were not generally of too sensitive a nature. As to the lack of traffic, one brilliant soldier had come up with the bright idea of feeding the text from some of the channels where locals tended to hang out into a text to speech program before broadcasting it over various bands. He had hooked the relay to key the mic to cut out between posts and they had rigged different voices to play with the posts from the different handles. It sounded cheesy, but it served.
They had had to change the code since XXIII had hooked up with Cang. How could they know, that despite this precaution, their efforts would prove without fruit.
You see, XXIII could not understand what was coming in over the radios as it came in, and he could not understand what Sal and Uncle Albert said when they keyed up the mic to respond or to give directions, but, when the mic was not keyed and Sal and Uncle Albert were discussing what they had just learned or how to respond, that he and the others understood perfectly.
XXIII kicked himself for not thinking of getting a CB earlier. Not really, just mentally or to use a hot term, virtually. He realized that it would have done them no good, but he kicked himself for not thinking of it anyway.
He would have to be sharper from now on. Plus, it may just help if he could listen a bit longer. The new code was beginning to make sense the more he heard. He could tell it was a variation of the old one which all soldiers were taught in soldier school.
(11:24 am Nov 12, 2005)
(6:00 pm Nov 12, 2005)
Potent.
Potent. If you hang out in the islands long enough, you are liable to hear someone say that someone is impotent. Now, they are not likely talking about something requiring a dose of love vine tea or some strongback. No, they mean the person is a big shot.
I mention this as a way to introduce the issue of the potency and efficacy of bush medicine.
Now that I have introduced it, I will leave you to get acquainted while I go ahead and mingle. I'll see you around.
(6:16 pm Nov 12, 2005)
Bulla sat at home. Another Saturday night and once again he didn't have anybody. Saturday night, he needed some excitement. One of his main problems was that he considered Saturday night to be a night for fighting. His mother was constantly telling him it would bring him no good when he was young. He sure missed his mother. His friends were more interested in being lovers on the weekends, but come Saturday, Bulla felt a fighting mood begin to grow in him. Had done for as long as he could remember. Lately though, it did not seem to be enough for him.
Bulla didn't look like trouble. Perhaps that was one of his many advantages when it came to fighting. He was easy to underestimate. You would think by now, on a small island like this, word would have spread and people would not mess with him any more. For some reason, when he messed with their minds, they still would step up and pick on him. Bulla smiled at the thought. Perhaps it was that the Bahamas needed someone to write about him the way that American fella had written about Jim and Slim and Leroy and that guy who was married to Doris.
Perhaps one day. Any of you Bahamian songwriters up for it?
Yes, the usual round of fighting in the clubs and on the streets was getting stale. Had been for a year or more. He still went out looking for trouble every few Saturdays but he wanted more.
"You looking for trouble?"
"Yeah man, have you seen him?" (Cue laughter.)
About six months ago, he had hitched up with an underground group that went out and hunted attack trained rotties and other major dogs armed only with bronze wrist cuffs and three eighteen inch leather thongs. They dressed only in loin cloths while hunting. The object was to bring back the dogs alive and well but trussed up.
You verified your success and then released the dogs. Not many people are aware of the non-connection between this underground hunting club and that famous song. Wink, wink. Index finger to the nose, & etc.
The newness of it and the challenge had made it fun for a while until he had gotten good at it, then it began to get a little boring for him.
Tonight, he and a few of the other hard cases who liked the edge were going to try their had at something a little more extreme.
The plan was to go out in a boat with chum and hunt sharks. Not go fishing for sharks mind you. Hunt them. Fins, mask, dive knife. Speedo. That's about it. Since tonight was the first time, two people were going to provide muscle with bang sticks until they made sure it was possible to do what they were out to try. Three would hunt tonight. I mean, the five of them were ... but they weren't .... if you know what I mean.
Solid.
Solid. Not liquid, not gas. Solid. Man dat gal, she solid.
(6:43 pm Nov 12, 2005)
Bulla's boat was solid. It was named "Dat gal solid" and she was. Well built and overpowered. Many of the boats in the islands were overpowered. The locals just seemed to like their boats that way.
They were loading up at a marina on the southern shore of the island. The plan was to head out south and try their little experiment in about thirty feet of water or less near some heads and small reefs.
---
Mizmocha was solid too. She had an attitude to match. She did not put up with any foolishness whatsoever. I mean none. And don't try to slide anything by her either. Nuh uh. Don't even try dat!
Her close friends called he Mocha and she liked that. Other people she knew called her Mizmocha or Miz, and she liked that too.
Mocha liked fast cars and slow men, at least, easy going men. She was not into hard cases. That song about wanting a thug did not apply to her.
Mocha was supposed to be meeting Melody at a club tonight. Melody had wanted to introduce her to her new flame, Bruno, but he might not be able to make it as his friend had gone missing from his boat. When she had just called on the phone, Melody had said that he would try to make it, even if only for a short while, but that they were to go ahead and he would join them if he could.
From all melody had told her, this Bruno sounded like he had the kind of personality Mocha wanted in a man.
(7:10 pm Nov 12, 2005)
Baldy was on the prowl tonight. Out hunting. With baldy though, hunting was not a play play thing. With baldy, hunting was deadly serious. A matter of life and death. Hopefully the death of his prey and life giving nourishment for him.
Even though he was made for it, the night was a dangerous thing. Crossing roads was taking your life in your hands. And getting discovered was worse. It was a funny thing. He evoked extreme fear in many, but it was just the fear he evoked that he himself feared. Because when his kind was discovered, it was the fear that they evoked in others that lead to the violent, over the top response that those others responded with.
First there was the stabbing light. You could freeze and hope not to be seen, our you could run for the shadows and hope not to be discovered. It was a tossup and neither plan was safe.
Then, if you were discovered, they brought out the big guns. Brooms, sticks, rocks. They also brought out chemical weapons and fire throwers. They were serious bringers of death.
Baldy understood this on one level as he was a bringer of death to his prey as well. What he didn't quite understand was that he was not their prey. They weren't looking to eat him. That he could at least understand. he had glimpsed something on the television one night a while back.
(7:21 pm Nov 12, 2005)
(7:30 pm Nov 12, 2005)
Woah, a little time warp action there. Baldy came to. Yes that show fas frightening. It was couched as a documentary, but Baldy thought sure it mus have been a horror movie. It was about this place in Asia there the people ate his kind. Went out hunting them and deep fried them before eating them as a crunchy snack food.
Though he could understand the motivation of the hunt, if that show was true, he thought he preferred to live here where they may kill you out of fear if they came upon you, at least they did not go out and actively hunt you.
Champion.
Champion. Champ. Hero. Star. Master. Top dog. Vanquisher. Winner. Advocate. Exponent. Promoter.
No one knew who the Champion Pegger of the island was. You see. It was a tradition at the underground pegging club that all come masked. A modern day masked ball and joust combined as it were.
When you first applied to be a contestant in the lignum wars, you were assigned a tournament name, colours, and a coat of arms. You competed thusly and could develop a reputation and even a following under your nom de guerre as it were. Some even had groupies and roadies. It was quite a scene.
Now, when we said that this was an underground scene, we failed to elaborate. It was underground, but not deeply underground. True, it was deeper underground than the local numbers games.
(7:48 pm Nov 12, 2005)
(8:05 pm Nov 12, 2005)
The current pegging champion was known as Vikta D. and he had been the champion for six months now.
Another thing about underground pegging which we have so far failed to mention is that the tops themselves are also given names and birth dates. The day when they are first introduced into competition is their official birth date and they are also given a name on the same occasion. Once they enter competition, they can never go home again. Until they die, after each competition, they are sealed by their champion into their homes and then their homes are sealed by the pegging barons into the pegging palace. A trusted guard is then set over the palace twenty four hours a day.
Vikta D's top was called Chocolate. He had chosen it somewhat whimsically so that when he split another top, he could cry, "Death by chocolate!" Chocolate had been his top since two months before he had won the championship. It was a remarkable run for a top.
Snatch.
Snatch. Snatch and grab. Clean and jerk. Down and dirty.
Man, when I see dey had da wrong price on dem furnitures, I snatch dem right up.
Man, dat linux ting, when I see dat, I snatch it before it get away.
Bullet Head say one alien snatch him last week and make him drive da UFO in one alien rumble.
Dat boy een good in da head.
Man I roach him, an when he see us out together, he try snatch her back.
I believe one shark mussee snatch dat boy Jelli out he boat.
Snatch.
I will tell you this much at least. Jelli was not snatched out of Cay Dreams by any shark of any sort.
---
Baldy was out on the prowl. Moving in dark spaces. He was hoping to cathc himself a frog tonight.
---
Bruno was sitting in front of Lobo writing. The problem was, the research temporal black hole was dogging him again. Time was marching on and he had too much to do. He had managed to get in a good amount of writing today sitting on the front porch at Jelli's house. Some in the family were getting a bit frantic and that was understandable. Mr. Rolle and he had had a long talk and Mr. Rolle was in agreement with Bruno that, as bad as things looked, they were for some reason confident that things would turn out OK in the end. He thought it best if those more clear headed ones could establish some sort of order and regularity to their admittedly unsettling schedule and situation.
That had seemed to help others to settle down somewhat.
Bruno wanted to get another five hundred words in before cleaning up and going back to Jelli's for about an hour and then on to meet with melody and her friend.
---
(8:43 pm Nov 12, 2005)
A loud cheer went up from the expectant crowd. Lignum Slayah walked out onto the tarmac with his Stone Spinah and raised his hands in salute to the gathered crowd. The cheer got even louder. He carefully wound the string around Stone Spinah and raised his arm over his head. With a mighty downward motion, he unleashed the Spinah at the line on the ground. A hole appeared about a tenth of an inch from the edge of the white line. He looped his string around Spinah's peg and popped him into the air. The crowd went wild. Catching him on his palm he walked over to his seat and sat down with the Spinah still spinning strongly for a good while.
The challenge was issued. The gauntlet was thrown down as it were.
Unbelievably, the noise level went up even more when Vikta D. walked out with Chocolate.
(8:50 pm Nov 12, 2005)
He wound his cord lovingly around Chocolate's beautiful, firm curving body, before raising her high in the sky and then unleashing her destruction upon the earth.
Vikta D. of all the peggers on the island, thought of his top as a female. In fact, Chocolate was the only top that he had ever had that was a female. But what a female.
There was a new hole, exactly in the centre of the white line. Vikta D. smiled and reached down and picked up Chocolate.
The battle was joined. Slayah's second placed Spinah on the ground, lined up along the white line.
Vikta D. stood and again lovingly wound his cord around Chocolate. Lifted her high. Once again, he unleashed her destruction, only this time upon the still, waiting body of Stone Spinah.
She came down fast, and she came down hard.
"Death by Chocolate!"
Just like that, it was over. Vikta D. and Chocolate were still champions. Chocolate was still untouched in battle.
The room was silent, almost stunned.
Vikta D. smiled and waved graciously before talking quietly with Lignum Slayah and going back to the holding area.
Pegging was unusual in that they put the big battles at the front of the card. There was still a lot more pegging to be done tonight.
(9:06 pm Nov 12, 2005)
13. Tings Nov 13
(8:09 am Nov 13, 2005)
I got the low voltage blues
I got the low voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the low voltage blues
Those low voltage blues had struck twice already this morning, shutting down the nano efforts for certain periods of time.
It might pay to make this a free form day. Free to be unrelated to anything that has come before or will come since in this book if that is how things work out. And related in non-related ways if that is how they turn out. Ooops, my free form license just showed up via avian ethernet. I am good to go.
Gully.
Gully. A beautiful word. Now it may bring to mind a deep ditch formed by running water. We have them too, although the water only sporadically runs around here and so what we consider deep when it comes to gullies may not match up with the rest of the world's.
Gully. A short, fond name for a seagull.
Gully, you sit above the water, still on the wind, your eye seeking opportunity, you spot it and cry, you swoop and it dies, down your gullet it flies. Gully.
Gully. You have a mischievous bent. You'll take all the shiny things that they all present. You'll fly them out over harbour and drop.
(8:19 am Nov 13, 2005)
No voltage blues strikes.
Gone.
Well, my answering machine informs me that the power failed at 8:19 am so see time just above where I inserted it.
(10:18 am Nov 13, 2005)
Ouch, the no voltage blues struck hard after some flirting by the low voltage blues. It did result in a nice visit to a friend's house though.
I got the no voltage blues
I got the no voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the no voltage blues
Well, behind for the day and it is going to be tough to catch up. I know how Bruno feels. Trying to get two days in today is going to be tough now. There is a family dinner at 6:30 with out of town friends as well so that is a further complication to the electrickery issues.
Gully, you'll laugh as their shiny new things go plop.
Do you lament what the dumps and landfills of our modern existence have done to the numbers of gulls on our shores? There are not as many at the shore as I remember as a child. Mind you, there are still places on the shore where they congregate in goodly numbers. Places where you can go with your bread and your children and have an enjoyable time, sitting in the bright sun, the wind in your face, the water sparkling before you and the gulls. The gulls whirling overhead. The gulls swooping. The gulls snatching food out of the air. The gulls snatching food from the surface of the sea. The gulls becoming a target to be caught and raided if the chunk of food they take is larger than can be swallowed immediately. The gulls crying. The gulls being raucous. The gulls at the shore.
Bruno was sitting now on the eastern foreshore feeding the gulls and trying to puzzle out what could have happened to Bruno.
Funky.
Funky town. Funky Nassau. Funky music. White boys. The dreaded fifteen percent. The mythical fifteen percent. (OK, let's not bring politricks into this, it is enough to deal with the electrickery issues, we don't need the issues of politricks added to the mix. Mind you, it is convention season. No, that's not like top and marble and those other seasons. At least he had heard no mention of conclave lately.)
Get down, get funky, get loose. Do I need to tighten up this bass though?
Funky monkey. Swinging.
Bruno threw the last of that stale foreign bread to the waiting gulls and stood up. He walked the foreshore a few times to get his blood flowing and then got back into his car. He felt like driving around the world but settled for driving over to Jelli's house.
It felt strange pulling up to a house with so many cars parked out front and knowing that the person you want to see is not home. It felt strange to walk into an empty house full of people. Yet walking in, the house definitely felt empty to him.
Cinnamon offered him some johnny cake with syrup and some tea which he gladly accepted. She smiled wanly at him as he took the plate and mug from her hands. He smiled back and told her not to fret, told her that he was sure Jelli would be OK.
(10:43 am Nov 13, 2005)
Bruno spent some time visiting with the gathered family and friends and then went out back where Mr. Rolle was picking pigeon plums. Bruno joined him and they picked and ate and talked together. The discussed offering a reward for information concerning Jelli's whereabouts. Mr. Rolle said the family should be able to put together a somewhat attractive amount. Bruno thought he could call in a few favours and do the same. The plums on this tree were especially sweet despite their tartness.
---
Cang, XXIII, and Ezza had not gone home last night. They had sat quietly in the darkness and listened. They had heard a lot. They were very worried. XXIII was very determined.
A soldier had a right to walk his own road. So, he was a soldier by reason of birth., he had not signed up for anyone else's program. Not joined anyone's army. He didn't have anything against other soldiers. He had always preferred the company of his own kind. Not that he was one to shun those not of his kind. He got along with them quite fine. He was just a bit more comfortable with his own.
Things were different with Cang though. Ever since the day he had locked on to him he had known this. He had locked on in anger and with a vengeance. Cang had not shown the expected reaction though. Although XXIII could tell he was in serious pain, his face lit up with pure joy. He was happy to see XXIII, and even stranger, he was happy to have XXIII clamped like vice grips to his toe.
Something had stirred deeply in XXIII's inner being. Some connection had been made at that moment. It made him angry that other soldiers should think this was a problem. He was angry that any of them should think it any part of their business at all.
It was puzzling why they would think he was somehow a part of the soldier's old tales though. They were probably just a bunch of cooks. The problem was, they sounded like powerful and well funded kooks.
Slick.
(11:07 am Nov 13, 2005)
(11:17 am Nov 13, 2005)
Slick. He tink he slick.
Slick. Jump slick. He try jump slick around me, he ga find out.
Slick. Slick 50. It was hot around here once, but you didn't hear as much about it lately.
Slick. Slick back. That boy is always trying to slick back his hair, but that cow lick always wins.
Slick. Hey slick, what's going on?
Slick. Man, I was at the boat ramp yesterday with my friend, and that ramp was so slick, I fall down an buss ma hip.
---
Bruno was beginning to get a sense that there were some people around the place now that thought they were slick. He was beginning to get the feeling that these same self styled slick set were the ones connected with Jelli's continued absence. He was beginning to pick up faint vibrations, vibrations that felt like they were the result of Jelli's resonating.
---
XXIII smiled. well, they may be well funded, but he doubted that he would be lacking funds any time soon either. Sometimes in life, things just seemed to work out right. He was sure he and Cang were up for a fight. Bring it on soldiers... You aint seen nuttin yet.
---
Bruno went back inside and sat down in front of Lobo and tried to get in some writing and get out some words. He thought about getting in a word war, but decided against it for today. How about a word party, or a word cooperative? Yes, how about everyone working together to see how many words they could write together? Positive thoughts, good vibrations, resonance. Jelli. The connection felt stronger.
He decided he would try and come up with a word lubricant for next year. Something that you could rub on. Perhaps your neck, or perhaps your forehead. A scented oil perhaps. One that would help the words to flow. That's it, a nano word lubricant, just what the world needed.
He headed over to the nano site for a quick peek. Ouch. Two hundred and seventy seven million, eight hundred and thirty four thousand, six hundred and forty words and counting. It was amazing what a hugh number of words could be produced in so short a time. He had to try a bit more to keep up his end of the bargain.
Next year though, with his word lubricant, he would not only produce his share of words, he would help countless others with sticky word problems to produce their daily quotas.
If he still lived. And the beat goes on.
(11:41 am Nov 13, 2005)
Flow.
Flow. Water flows uphill. Well, not normally, normally, water flows downhill. But in these roadside attractions in America where water can flow uphill and where other amazing things happen. Usually though, water seeks its own level.
Flow. Get in the flow. Jump in the flow.
Water flows.
Words flow.
Well, unless they are blocked up or sticky.
Bruno just knew that his word lubricant idea would be a big hit. Perhaps he should take his idea to those slick 50 boys. Nah, he was more likely to develop a successful word lubricant in conjunction with a massage therapist.
Electrickery flows too. At least when B.E.C. s not messin with you.
Will that be A.C. or D.C. sir?
(11:51 am Nov 13, 2005)
(12:02 pm Nov 13, 2005)
Descartes replies, "I think not." And then he vanishes! (Cue laughter.)
---
Melody and Mizmocha were having brunch at a native place out near Gambier. They had both had a great time and Mocha had enjoyed meeting Bruno. He seemed like a good match for Melody and she told her so. She had run into, well no, that's not right, she had spied someone across the room who had later seen her and tried to bust a move. Melody had winked at her and whispered something to Bruno and so Mocha had accepted the drink and taken the dance. It had turned into an interesting evening.
They had slept late and were both still a little groggy when they showed up for brunch. Mocha didn't really like that word, but she guessed that that's where they were really here for. Well, perhaps she would skip the breakfast part and go straight to lunch. That suited her mood more anyway.
---
Cang knew that he and XXIII would have to stay out of sight until they managed to work these issues out. They could not take a chance on being seen by the searching soldiers. It was much too dangerous. He motioned to XXIII and Ezza and they crept back down the tunnel quietly. In darkness.
When they were safely away from the door, he turned on his flashlight and they picked up the pace. After about a mile and a few corners, he selected a side passage and motioned the others to follow.
"OK, did you all get that? This is big trouble. Ezza, we are gonna have to stay underground for a while. We are gonna need you to bring us what we need and we are gonna need you to be our topside agent. Can you handle it?"
"I think I can. Man, I don't know which is more exciting, the treasure or this."
"Ezza, stay serious for me. This is not a game we have going on here. They are after us. They have already made two attempts and now, they have been hunting us for days."
"OK, OK, I am serious, but it is still exciting, you can't tell me it isn't. I can get some supplies down here, but you are going to have to rough it for a while. There is no way I can move in large amounts without the danger of being seen."
(12:21 pm Nov 13, 2005)
(2:05 pm Nov 13, 2005)
And so, on to the extra words.
Surging.
Surging. The surging tide. Hope surging within her heart. Surging waves.
No, no, no. You sewers should know better than that. Stop trying to confuse the innocent. You know it is spelled differently. I mean, who ever heard of a surging machine? Yeah, yeah, you're right.
Electrickery can surge and when it does, there tend to be lots of surging machines around the place. All over the place in fact.
Bruno felt the connection to Jelli grow stronger. He pushed it to the back of his mind and continued on with the writing of his nano novel. If he didn't watch out, it may end up being a nano novel indeed. A novel so nano it could not even take the name novelette.
I will show you an excerpt:
The prisoners were hungry. There had been no food served to them last night or this morning. No one had come to take them out for exercise so far today either.
The first prisoner started to get restless and loud. He was large. He was hairy. He was strong. There was something Grendelesque about him. He was chained up much more securely than the other prisoners.
The others remained silent for the time being, content to let number one suffer any punishment that was handed out for doing what they each wanted to do.
They were in a cavern below the ground, at least that is what it appeared to each of them as they had been led in un-hooded when first brought to this place. There was water covering half of the floor area. It smelled salty.
(2:20 pm Nov 13, 2005)
(2:52 pm Nov 13, 2005)
Bruno came back from a daydream and continued:
Each new prisoner had seen all of the previous prisoners chained to the wall as they were brought in for the first time. All except the first prisoner. The captors were always careful to ensure that number one was out for his daily exercise when bringing in new captives.
The last prisoner had seen the most. Three other captives chained to the wall. Two female and one male. That made a total of three males and two females assuming number one was really a male, which he claimed and sounded to be.
So, number five bided his time and listened. He focused and worked mental puzzles to keep his mind sharp.
(3:00 pm Nov 13, 2005)
Bruno had not planned or plotted for this thread in his novel. It had just kind of inserted itself a few days back and he had decided to run with it. So far though, it seemed disconnected with the rest of his plot.
(3:03 pm Nov 13, 2005)
(3:08 pm Nov 13, 2005)
First a daydream, then a phone call. It looked like a nano nano was a definite possibility.
So, it seemed disconnected from the rest of the book. He hoped that he would be able to tie it in at some point in the future, otherwise it would sit like some unrelated monolithic massif in the filed of his prose.
His thoughts surged and he felt his connection to Jelli surge as well.
Daring.
Daring. Go ahead I dare you. A somewhat childish that had caused no end of trouble over the span of time.
Daring. Dashing and daring.
Daring. A daring daylight raid.
Daring. Prisoner number five was making daring plans for escape. Plans that would come to naught. All despite the fact that he had never even been to the land of Naught. All despite the fact that he believed the land of Naught to be a fictional place.
Daring. His eyes daring her to object, he stole a kiss. It was the first moment of bliss they shared together. It was not to be the last.
NaNoWriMo love.
It was a cliche but two hearts beat as one. As yet, neither actually suspected the profundity of this. Now, the two hearts that beat as one were not the two hearts belonging to the thief and the victim in the matter of the stolen kiss mentioned just above. No they were the hearts in Bruno and in Melody. They had been beating as one since they had first met up that first night on the dance floor and he had dipped her. Something about that dipping motion had synced their hearts and they had continued in sync since.
Although they each recognized strong feelings for the other, and although they had both felt their hearts beating together on a few occasions, neither knew that this had been a continuous fact since their meeting.
(3:25 pm Nov 13, 2005)
(3:45 pm Nov 13, 2005)
I am sure you see the problem for yourself, gentle reader.
Sorry to make you work so hard on keeping your disbelief suspended, but you know what they say:
No pain, no gain.
Oh. Well right. I never really bought into that concept one hundred per cent either.
The effects of the low and no voltage blues had not worn off yet.
---
Bulla was in pain. That shark last night had schooled the lot of them. Then he had died. Bulla smiled. Now that was living on the edge. Looking at the jaws of a monster coming at you out of the gloom with only a dive knife in hand for a weapon. Perhaps the fact that he did not look like trouble did not work on the shark last night. Perhaps a dive knife was not weapon enough to make the game at least winnable if you were good enough. Not lucky enough mind you. Good enough. To make these games worth playing, at least in Bulla's mind, the best of the best should win regularly. I mean, it was no good if the best of the best dies regularly. If Bulla wanted that kind of an edge, he would have suggested sky diving without parachutes. I mean, sure it was rumoured that people occasionally survived falls from aeroplanes but those odds were too long. That was not the sort of edge he was looking for.
Well, last night he had found an edge alright. But perhaps that edge was a little too sharp.
Bulla was in pain. He was sporting bruises all over. He was abraded over much of his surface area. He was a poster boy for the seamstress club.
Next time perhaps a wet suit instead of a speedo. And perhaps a billy as well as a knife.
At least for him there would be a next time. For one of the other guys out on last nights adventure, there was likely to be no next time. The doctors assured them that he would live, but it was not likely he would ever again be in any shape to hunt dogs much less sharks.
Wealth.
Wealth. You want it? You got it. It may not really be that easy, and if you are not careful with your definition, you may not end up anting what you wanted and what you got. Life can be tricky that way.
Wealth. Money. Riches. Abundance. Assets. Assets minus liabilities. Material goods. Property.
Wealth. Health. Wisdom.
Early to bed and early to rise.
Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.
Early to bed and early to rise.
You'll never have red in the whites of your eyes.
Wealth. Some of the stuff you learn in childhood can lead to it.
Wealth. Do you have any in your wallet? Show me then!
Wealth. Wealth untold. Gold, silver, jewels. Pirates Treasure. Treasure trove.
Cang and XXIII were certainly finding wealth untold. Wealth untold. in more ways that one. I mean, it seemed fairly obvious that no one had been told about this treasure or what was it still doing here? Unguarded at that. And Cang doubted that this amount of wealth had been told in that other fashion either. That fashion that we are most familiar with when we think of getting served after standing for too long in a bank line.
They would have to tell some of it though if they were to carry the fight as XXIII wanted to do. Cang was beginning to be won over to his point of view the more they discussed things.
The problem was going to be finding wealth that they could take out and convert to other forms without arousing interest or suspicion. Wealth could be dangerous to your health. As they talked, they were able to imagine more and more ways in which this could be so. It was sobering.
They were gaining a lot of sobering knowledge lately. Cang wondered if he would ever be able to go back to his largely carefree life anytime in the foreseeable future.
If the future was foreseeable in any way that is.
(4:22 pm Nov 13, 2005)
Extensive.
And now for a little change of pace.
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(4:35 pm Nov 13, 2005)
(5:04 pm Nov 13, 2005)
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So, let us arrange an in home test for you today. You will be the envy of your whole social set.
Get your custom, high quality, fict today. Be a leader. Wealth.
Ezza had not had much time to mourn The Knight. Too much had been going on since he found the map and Cang and XXIII had showed up. He was mourning him now though. Sitting home alone, alone in the dark. The curtains drawn. Missing The Knight.
He had taken some basic supplies back to the tunnels and was now home for the night. Home for the night missing The Knight. Tomorrow would be soon enough to begin getting the rest of the needed supplies for the underground sojourn of his friends. Tomorrow he would make a quiet call to some people he knew in Spanish Wells to consult on some rumours. Or more precisely, on the relations to the old stories of the soldiers that they had heard being discussed and to some rumours that he and Cang had heard around. Cang in his travels through space and time. He in his treasure research.
(5:13 pm Nov 13, 2005)
Bruno and Melody had been invited out to a family gathering by Mizmocha and Bruno was looking forward to it. The writing had finally gone a little better this afternoon and he was feeling better and better about the chances of Jelli being found. He was beginning to feel vibrations in the air tonight.
He was no where near actually catching up yet, but at least he had not fallen further behind today. No, for once he had actually managed to do a day's quota and more today. If the family gathering did no go too late, which it shouldn't, he might be able to come home and get some more good hours of writing in before turning in for the night.
For now though, he had to save his work and get ready to go pick up Melody.
(5:18 pm Nov 13, 2005)
(9:38 pm Nov 13, 2005)
Bruno was back home early and ready to write. Perhaps another two to five hundred words before turning in for an early night. Tomorrow would most likely start early.
---
Cang and XXIII had explored for a few hours and then found a place to sleep. Luckily, Ezza had found some small nylon net hammocks that they were able to string up in a dry cavern to sleep in. I must just say they it was green nylon and that the net was woven from something more like string than thread. Cang had no distressing flashbacks.
He and XXIII were each in a hammock now, just a small red led light over against a wall. They were talking over their plans as they drifted off to sleep.
---
Prisoner number one seethed.
Prisoner number five listened carefully for any sounds that might give him hints to help in his plan of escape.
---
Red had heard a new tune today and was planning on practicing it into the wee hours of the morning.
---
Leggs was out hunting under the porch.
---
Baldy was also on the prowl. He was hungry.
---
Melody and Mocha were listening to some oddball music on irate radio and playing a game of tonk.
---
Bulla was still in major pain.
---
Heath was in town. Well, just offshore downtown. Once again cruising below the cruise ships making sure everything was in order for the night.
He heard a small splash towards the bow of the ship he was currently under and turned to investigate. As he came to the area where he though the splash had occurred, there was another splash just above him. A champagne glass drifted down from the surface. Cruisers out on the deck partying and getting a bit out of hand. Throwing cruise ship profits overboard was not his bailiwick and so he moved on.
---
Big Gruff and Mid Gruff were down in Long Island on the family farm. Out in the fields, under the stars, eating sweet grass and catching the cooling breeze. A glorious night.
They expected to stay here for a few years at least before even thinking of taking another trip to the capital.
---
Melody and Mocha switched from Tonk to Pluck, well after getting Mocha's sister to come and join the table.
---
Potcake was down in the water of the rainwater tank, making noise and carrying on. Such is life in the tropics.
---
Frizzell was putting on some knight moves for Felina out on the dance floor. He had learned some dance steps from these guys at a jousting tournament a few days back.
---
Vikta D. had once again shouted "Death by Chocolate!" and was watching the new peggars conduct their battles.
(10:09 pm Nov 13, 2005)
I got the low voltage blues
I got the low voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the low voltage blues
Those low voltage blues had struck twice already this morning, shutting down the nano efforts for certain periods of time.
It might pay to make this a free form day. Free to be unrelated to anything that has come before or will come since in this book if that is how things work out. And related in non-related ways if that is how they turn out. Ooops, my free form license just showed up via avian ethernet. I am good to go.
Gully.
Gully. A beautiful word. Now it may bring to mind a deep ditch formed by running water. We have them too, although the water only sporadically runs around here and so what we consider deep when it comes to gullies may not match up with the rest of the world's.
Gully. A short, fond name for a seagull.
Gully, you sit above the water, still on the wind, your eye seeking opportunity, you spot it and cry, you swoop and it dies, down your gullet it flies. Gully.
Gully. You have a mischievous bent. You'll take all the shiny things that they all present. You'll fly them out over harbour and drop.
(8:19 am Nov 13, 2005)
No voltage blues strikes.
Gone.
Well, my answering machine informs me that the power failed at 8:19 am so see time just above where I inserted it.
(10:18 am Nov 13, 2005)
Ouch, the no voltage blues struck hard after some flirting by the low voltage blues. It did result in a nice visit to a friend's house though.
I got the no voltage blues
I got the no voltage blues
Yeah, B.E.C. is messin with me
I got the no voltage blues
Well, behind for the day and it is going to be tough to catch up. I know how Bruno feels. Trying to get two days in today is going to be tough now. There is a family dinner at 6:30 with out of town friends as well so that is a further complication to the electrickery issues.
Gully, you'll laugh as their shiny new things go plop.
Do you lament what the dumps and landfills of our modern existence have done to the numbers of gulls on our shores? There are not as many at the shore as I remember as a child. Mind you, there are still places on the shore where they congregate in goodly numbers. Places where you can go with your bread and your children and have an enjoyable time, sitting in the bright sun, the wind in your face, the water sparkling before you and the gulls. The gulls whirling overhead. The gulls swooping. The gulls snatching food out of the air. The gulls snatching food from the surface of the sea. The gulls becoming a target to be caught and raided if the chunk of food they take is larger than can be swallowed immediately. The gulls crying. The gulls being raucous. The gulls at the shore.
Bruno was sitting now on the eastern foreshore feeding the gulls and trying to puzzle out what could have happened to Bruno.
Funky.
Funky town. Funky Nassau. Funky music. White boys. The dreaded fifteen percent. The mythical fifteen percent. (OK, let's not bring politricks into this, it is enough to deal with the electrickery issues, we don't need the issues of politricks added to the mix. Mind you, it is convention season. No, that's not like top and marble and those other seasons. At least he had heard no mention of conclave lately.)
Get down, get funky, get loose. Do I need to tighten up this bass though?
Funky monkey. Swinging.
Bruno threw the last of that stale foreign bread to the waiting gulls and stood up. He walked the foreshore a few times to get his blood flowing and then got back into his car. He felt like driving around the world but settled for driving over to Jelli's house.
It felt strange pulling up to a house with so many cars parked out front and knowing that the person you want to see is not home. It felt strange to walk into an empty house full of people. Yet walking in, the house definitely felt empty to him.
Cinnamon offered him some johnny cake with syrup and some tea which he gladly accepted. She smiled wanly at him as he took the plate and mug from her hands. He smiled back and told her not to fret, told her that he was sure Jelli would be OK.
(10:43 am Nov 13, 2005)
Bruno spent some time visiting with the gathered family and friends and then went out back where Mr. Rolle was picking pigeon plums. Bruno joined him and they picked and ate and talked together. The discussed offering a reward for information concerning Jelli's whereabouts. Mr. Rolle said the family should be able to put together a somewhat attractive amount. Bruno thought he could call in a few favours and do the same. The plums on this tree were especially sweet despite their tartness.
---
Cang, XXIII, and Ezza had not gone home last night. They had sat quietly in the darkness and listened. They had heard a lot. They were very worried. XXIII was very determined.
A soldier had a right to walk his own road. So, he was a soldier by reason of birth., he had not signed up for anyone else's program. Not joined anyone's army. He didn't have anything against other soldiers. He had always preferred the company of his own kind. Not that he was one to shun those not of his kind. He got along with them quite fine. He was just a bit more comfortable with his own.
Things were different with Cang though. Ever since the day he had locked on to him he had known this. He had locked on in anger and with a vengeance. Cang had not shown the expected reaction though. Although XXIII could tell he was in serious pain, his face lit up with pure joy. He was happy to see XXIII, and even stranger, he was happy to have XXIII clamped like vice grips to his toe.
Something had stirred deeply in XXIII's inner being. Some connection had been made at that moment. It made him angry that other soldiers should think this was a problem. He was angry that any of them should think it any part of their business at all.
It was puzzling why they would think he was somehow a part of the soldier's old tales though. They were probably just a bunch of cooks. The problem was, they sounded like powerful and well funded kooks.
Slick.
(11:07 am Nov 13, 2005)
(11:17 am Nov 13, 2005)
Slick. He tink he slick.
Slick. Jump slick. He try jump slick around me, he ga find out.
Slick. Slick 50. It was hot around here once, but you didn't hear as much about it lately.
Slick. Slick back. That boy is always trying to slick back his hair, but that cow lick always wins.
Slick. Hey slick, what's going on?
Slick. Man, I was at the boat ramp yesterday with my friend, and that ramp was so slick, I fall down an buss ma hip.
---
Bruno was beginning to get a sense that there were some people around the place now that thought they were slick. He was beginning to get the feeling that these same self styled slick set were the ones connected with Jelli's continued absence. He was beginning to pick up faint vibrations, vibrations that felt like they were the result of Jelli's resonating.
---
XXIII smiled. well, they may be well funded, but he doubted that he would be lacking funds any time soon either. Sometimes in life, things just seemed to work out right. He was sure he and Cang were up for a fight. Bring it on soldiers... You aint seen nuttin yet.
---
Bruno went back inside and sat down in front of Lobo and tried to get in some writing and get out some words. He thought about getting in a word war, but decided against it for today. How about a word party, or a word cooperative? Yes, how about everyone working together to see how many words they could write together? Positive thoughts, good vibrations, resonance. Jelli. The connection felt stronger.
He decided he would try and come up with a word lubricant for next year. Something that you could rub on. Perhaps your neck, or perhaps your forehead. A scented oil perhaps. One that would help the words to flow. That's it, a nano word lubricant, just what the world needed.
He headed over to the nano site for a quick peek. Ouch. Two hundred and seventy seven million, eight hundred and thirty four thousand, six hundred and forty words and counting. It was amazing what a hugh number of words could be produced in so short a time. He had to try a bit more to keep up his end of the bargain.
Next year though, with his word lubricant, he would not only produce his share of words, he would help countless others with sticky word problems to produce their daily quotas.
If he still lived. And the beat goes on.
(11:41 am Nov 13, 2005)
Flow.
Flow. Water flows uphill. Well, not normally, normally, water flows downhill. But in these roadside attractions in America where water can flow uphill and where other amazing things happen. Usually though, water seeks its own level.
Flow. Get in the flow. Jump in the flow.
Water flows.
Words flow.
Well, unless they are blocked up or sticky.
Bruno just knew that his word lubricant idea would be a big hit. Perhaps he should take his idea to those slick 50 boys. Nah, he was more likely to develop a successful word lubricant in conjunction with a massage therapist.
Electrickery flows too. At least when B.E.C. s not messin with you.
Will that be A.C. or D.C. sir?
(11:51 am Nov 13, 2005)
(12:02 pm Nov 13, 2005)
Descartes replies, "I think not." And then he vanishes! (Cue laughter.)
---
Melody and Mizmocha were having brunch at a native place out near Gambier. They had both had a great time and Mocha had enjoyed meeting Bruno. He seemed like a good match for Melody and she told her so. She had run into, well no, that's not right, she had spied someone across the room who had later seen her and tried to bust a move. Melody had winked at her and whispered something to Bruno and so Mocha had accepted the drink and taken the dance. It had turned into an interesting evening.
They had slept late and were both still a little groggy when they showed up for brunch. Mocha didn't really like that word, but she guessed that that's where they were really here for. Well, perhaps she would skip the breakfast part and go straight to lunch. That suited her mood more anyway.
---
Cang knew that he and XXIII would have to stay out of sight until they managed to work these issues out. They could not take a chance on being seen by the searching soldiers. It was much too dangerous. He motioned to XXIII and Ezza and they crept back down the tunnel quietly. In darkness.
When they were safely away from the door, he turned on his flashlight and they picked up the pace. After about a mile and a few corners, he selected a side passage and motioned the others to follow.
"OK, did you all get that? This is big trouble. Ezza, we are gonna have to stay underground for a while. We are gonna need you to bring us what we need and we are gonna need you to be our topside agent. Can you handle it?"
"I think I can. Man, I don't know which is more exciting, the treasure or this."
"Ezza, stay serious for me. This is not a game we have going on here. They are after us. They have already made two attempts and now, they have been hunting us for days."
"OK, OK, I am serious, but it is still exciting, you can't tell me it isn't. I can get some supplies down here, but you are going to have to rough it for a while. There is no way I can move in large amounts without the danger of being seen."
(12:21 pm Nov 13, 2005)
(2:05 pm Nov 13, 2005)
And so, on to the extra words.
Surging.
Surging. The surging tide. Hope surging within her heart. Surging waves.
No, no, no. You sewers should know better than that. Stop trying to confuse the innocent. You know it is spelled differently. I mean, who ever heard of a surging machine? Yeah, yeah, you're right.
Electrickery can surge and when it does, there tend to be lots of surging machines around the place. All over the place in fact.
Bruno felt the connection to Jelli grow stronger. He pushed it to the back of his mind and continued on with the writing of his nano novel. If he didn't watch out, it may end up being a nano novel indeed. A novel so nano it could not even take the name novelette.
I will show you an excerpt:
The prisoners were hungry. There had been no food served to them last night or this morning. No one had come to take them out for exercise so far today either.
The first prisoner started to get restless and loud. He was large. He was hairy. He was strong. There was something Grendelesque about him. He was chained up much more securely than the other prisoners.
The others remained silent for the time being, content to let number one suffer any punishment that was handed out for doing what they each wanted to do.
They were in a cavern below the ground, at least that is what it appeared to each of them as they had been led in un-hooded when first brought to this place. There was water covering half of the floor area. It smelled salty.
(2:20 pm Nov 13, 2005)
(2:52 pm Nov 13, 2005)
Bruno came back from a daydream and continued:
Each new prisoner had seen all of the previous prisoners chained to the wall as they were brought in for the first time. All except the first prisoner. The captors were always careful to ensure that number one was out for his daily exercise when bringing in new captives.
The last prisoner had seen the most. Three other captives chained to the wall. Two female and one male. That made a total of three males and two females assuming number one was really a male, which he claimed and sounded to be.
So, number five bided his time and listened. He focused and worked mental puzzles to keep his mind sharp.
(3:00 pm Nov 13, 2005)
Bruno had not planned or plotted for this thread in his novel. It had just kind of inserted itself a few days back and he had decided to run with it. So far though, it seemed disconnected with the rest of his plot.
(3:03 pm Nov 13, 2005)
(3:08 pm Nov 13, 2005)
First a daydream, then a phone call. It looked like a nano nano was a definite possibility.
So, it seemed disconnected from the rest of the book. He hoped that he would be able to tie it in at some point in the future, otherwise it would sit like some unrelated monolithic massif in the filed of his prose.
His thoughts surged and he felt his connection to Jelli surge as well.
Daring.
Daring. Go ahead I dare you. A somewhat childish that had caused no end of trouble over the span of time.
Daring. Dashing and daring.
Daring. A daring daylight raid.
Daring. Prisoner number five was making daring plans for escape. Plans that would come to naught. All despite the fact that he had never even been to the land of Naught. All despite the fact that he believed the land of Naught to be a fictional place.
Daring. His eyes daring her to object, he stole a kiss. It was the first moment of bliss they shared together. It was not to be the last.
NaNoWriMo love.
It was a cliche but two hearts beat as one. As yet, neither actually suspected the profundity of this. Now, the two hearts that beat as one were not the two hearts belonging to the thief and the victim in the matter of the stolen kiss mentioned just above. No they were the hearts in Bruno and in Melody. They had been beating as one since they had first met up that first night on the dance floor and he had dipped her. Something about that dipping motion had synced their hearts and they had continued in sync since.
Although they each recognized strong feelings for the other, and although they had both felt their hearts beating together on a few occasions, neither knew that this had been a continuous fact since their meeting.
(3:25 pm Nov 13, 2005)
(3:45 pm Nov 13, 2005)
I am sure you see the problem for yourself, gentle reader.
Sorry to make you work so hard on keeping your disbelief suspended, but you know what they say:
No pain, no gain.
Oh. Well right. I never really bought into that concept one hundred per cent either.
The effects of the low and no voltage blues had not worn off yet.
---
Bulla was in pain. That shark last night had schooled the lot of them. Then he had died. Bulla smiled. Now that was living on the edge. Looking at the jaws of a monster coming at you out of the gloom with only a dive knife in hand for a weapon. Perhaps the fact that he did not look like trouble did not work on the shark last night. Perhaps a dive knife was not weapon enough to make the game at least winnable if you were good enough. Not lucky enough mind you. Good enough. To make these games worth playing, at least in Bulla's mind, the best of the best should win regularly. I mean, it was no good if the best of the best dies regularly. If Bulla wanted that kind of an edge, he would have suggested sky diving without parachutes. I mean, sure it was rumoured that people occasionally survived falls from aeroplanes but those odds were too long. That was not the sort of edge he was looking for.
Well, last night he had found an edge alright. But perhaps that edge was a little too sharp.
Bulla was in pain. He was sporting bruises all over. He was abraded over much of his surface area. He was a poster boy for the seamstress club.
Next time perhaps a wet suit instead of a speedo. And perhaps a billy as well as a knife.
At least for him there would be a next time. For one of the other guys out on last nights adventure, there was likely to be no next time. The doctors assured them that he would live, but it was not likely he would ever again be in any shape to hunt dogs much less sharks.
Wealth.
Wealth. You want it? You got it. It may not really be that easy, and if you are not careful with your definition, you may not end up anting what you wanted and what you got. Life can be tricky that way.
Wealth. Money. Riches. Abundance. Assets. Assets minus liabilities. Material goods. Property.
Wealth. Health. Wisdom.
Early to bed and early to rise.
Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.
Early to bed and early to rise.
You'll never have red in the whites of your eyes.
Wealth. Some of the stuff you learn in childhood can lead to it.
Wealth. Do you have any in your wallet? Show me then!
Wealth. Wealth untold. Gold, silver, jewels. Pirates Treasure. Treasure trove.
Cang and XXIII were certainly finding wealth untold. Wealth untold. in more ways that one. I mean, it seemed fairly obvious that no one had been told about this treasure or what was it still doing here? Unguarded at that. And Cang doubted that this amount of wealth had been told in that other fashion either. That fashion that we are most familiar with when we think of getting served after standing for too long in a bank line.
They would have to tell some of it though if they were to carry the fight as XXIII wanted to do. Cang was beginning to be won over to his point of view the more they discussed things.
The problem was going to be finding wealth that they could take out and convert to other forms without arousing interest or suspicion. Wealth could be dangerous to your health. As they talked, they were able to imagine more and more ways in which this could be so. It was sobering.
They were gaining a lot of sobering knowledge lately. Cang wondered if he would ever be able to go back to his largely carefree life anytime in the foreseeable future.
If the future was foreseeable in any way that is.
(4:22 pm Nov 13, 2005)
Extensive.
And now for a little change of pace.
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We also have an extensive network of fict hunters should you need a runaway fict tracked and captured. An extensive worldwide network. We expect to have a branch off world in a few short years. Our extensive core of highly skilled designers are working on the plans as we speak.
Take one of our high quality ficts out for a field test. Talk to one of our extensive network of fict experts today and arrange a free, thirty day trial. No obligation. Nothing to buy. We are so confident you will be thrilled buy what you experience, that we will deliver one direct to your door if you call within the next thirty days.
(4:35 pm Nov 13, 2005)
(5:04 pm Nov 13, 2005)
Now, let's see, where was I? Oh, yes, extensive and our extensive experience in the field of ficts.
So, let us arrange an in home test for you today. You will be the envy of your whole social set.
Get your custom, high quality, fict today. Be a leader. Wealth.
Ezza had not had much time to mourn The Knight. Too much had been going on since he found the map and Cang and XXIII had showed up. He was mourning him now though. Sitting home alone, alone in the dark. The curtains drawn. Missing The Knight.
He had taken some basic supplies back to the tunnels and was now home for the night. Home for the night missing The Knight. Tomorrow would be soon enough to begin getting the rest of the needed supplies for the underground sojourn of his friends. Tomorrow he would make a quiet call to some people he knew in Spanish Wells to consult on some rumours. Or more precisely, on the relations to the old stories of the soldiers that they had heard being discussed and to some rumours that he and Cang had heard around. Cang in his travels through space and time. He in his treasure research.
(5:13 pm Nov 13, 2005)
Bruno and Melody had been invited out to a family gathering by Mizmocha and Bruno was looking forward to it. The writing had finally gone a little better this afternoon and he was feeling better and better about the chances of Jelli being found. He was beginning to feel vibrations in the air tonight.
He was no where near actually catching up yet, but at least he had not fallen further behind today. No, for once he had actually managed to do a day's quota and more today. If the family gathering did no go too late, which it shouldn't, he might be able to come home and get some more good hours of writing in before turning in for the night.
For now though, he had to save his work and get ready to go pick up Melody.
(5:18 pm Nov 13, 2005)
(9:38 pm Nov 13, 2005)
Bruno was back home early and ready to write. Perhaps another two to five hundred words before turning in for an early night. Tomorrow would most likely start early.
---
Cang and XXIII had explored for a few hours and then found a place to sleep. Luckily, Ezza had found some small nylon net hammocks that they were able to string up in a dry cavern to sleep in. I must just say they it was green nylon and that the net was woven from something more like string than thread. Cang had no distressing flashbacks.
He and XXIII were each in a hammock now, just a small red led light over against a wall. They were talking over their plans as they drifted off to sleep.
---
Prisoner number one seethed.
Prisoner number five listened carefully for any sounds that might give him hints to help in his plan of escape.
---
Red had heard a new tune today and was planning on practicing it into the wee hours of the morning.
---
Leggs was out hunting under the porch.
---
Baldy was also on the prowl. He was hungry.
---
Melody and Mocha were listening to some oddball music on irate radio and playing a game of tonk.
---
Bulla was still in major pain.
---
Heath was in town. Well, just offshore downtown. Once again cruising below the cruise ships making sure everything was in order for the night.
He heard a small splash towards the bow of the ship he was currently under and turned to investigate. As he came to the area where he though the splash had occurred, there was another splash just above him. A champagne glass drifted down from the surface. Cruisers out on the deck partying and getting a bit out of hand. Throwing cruise ship profits overboard was not his bailiwick and so he moved on.
---
Big Gruff and Mid Gruff were down in Long Island on the family farm. Out in the fields, under the stars, eating sweet grass and catching the cooling breeze. A glorious night.
They expected to stay here for a few years at least before even thinking of taking another trip to the capital.
---
Melody and Mocha switched from Tonk to Pluck, well after getting Mocha's sister to come and join the table.
---
Potcake was down in the water of the rainwater tank, making noise and carrying on. Such is life in the tropics.
---
Frizzell was putting on some knight moves for Felina out on the dance floor. He had learned some dance steps from these guys at a jousting tournament a few days back.
---
Vikta D. had once again shouted "Death by Chocolate!" and was watching the new peggars conduct their battles.
(10:09 pm Nov 13, 2005)
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