“Good enough, wuvver.” -swig-
“Dang, yer a pretty lady. All of you is really fine. I am suitably impressed with your bounteous charms that threaten to overflow your shiny, red and black vertical striped dress with festive, feathery, highlights and flouncy, friendly fringe. I sure do like the sparkly and flouncy fashions you dance hall gals come up with. Funny thing though, you ain’t gotta Texas accent, Ma’am.”
“That’s roight, sailuh-boy, Oye’m still’a London East End gel, even if fortune has tossed me upon these unforgiving Colonial shores.”
“Gee whiz, you’re a right friendly gal, ain’t ya? You sure do like to snuggle in tight, in this here bar booth, Ma’am.”
“That’s roight, it’s onna counta me loikin’ you, little sailuh boy.”
“I, I, I guess maybe I have been a little lonely lately.”
“None o’ that now, me rag-muffin. Wot’s your name, wittle fella.”
“Ichabod.”
“Ha, ha! Ichabod! Oye nevuh knew no Ichabod a’fore. A few itchy bodies maybe, but not a true life Ichabod.”
“Yes, Ma’am, that’s me. What’s your name?”
“Me? Woi, me name’s Mirabella Froust, it is, but seein’s ’ow Oye likes ewe so much Icksi, Oye’m gonna let you use me pet name.”
“Waz zat, Ma’am?”
“Mimi!”
“Mimi’s a real nice name, Ma’am. It’s kinda friendly and flouncy, like you, Ma’am.”
“Ha, ha! That’s Mimi! Come on, Icksi, don’t be stingy, pours me another dwink!”
Chapter Eleven:
Torn Asunder
P.O.V. Miss Persephone Plumtartt
“You must admit, Persephone, that our prey has not been difficult to track.”
“I readily concede that point, Kit.” I answer my charming companion. “From the particularly destructive disaster at the train yards we found upon our arrival, to this unbroken trail of broken city and upturned properties leading to the seaside, our quarry has been kind enough to not be sneaky.”
“That is where our good fortune has run out, my lady. We have had many first hand witness accounts of the dangerous mobbe of peoples that this fellow Sku Le’Bizarre affects to maintain about his person.”
“We have even heard descriptions of energetic combat by two slightly built gentlemen that no doubt respectively represent our own Mr. Temperance and Officer O’Hagan.”
“I agree, Persephone. I have constantly kept a weather eye open for the feisty duo but have yet to set sight upon them, curse the luck.”
“We shall make inquiries as to any news of our lost friends, Kit.”
“Capital plan, Persephone. Where to begin? Ah, yes, let us start with this young woman with the bag of sticks under her arm. I say, she is a looker. The corseted saloon girl party dress she wears is filled out in a most pleasing fashion.”
“I do not believe I have ever seen a ‘Gibson Girl’ hairdo built to such extraordinary proportions before. And that cannot be a natural shade of red in her hair, I am positive of that.”
“Do you care for the ruffly petticoats that show from the waist high slit that runs up her left thigh? I confess Persephone, there is an alluring attractiveness to this skirt style that I cannot deny.”
“Eh, hem, yes, quite, I say, if you say so, Kit.”
“I say, Persephone. As to that bag of sticks tucked under her arm, does it appear to be wearing a familiar, black derby hat?”
“Why yes, Kit. Furthermore, I believe I recognize that hat! My word! Yes! I should say so!”
“Wot you looking at lady? If ya got ’em, flaunt ’em, ’at’s wot Oye says.”
“I beg your pardon, Madame, it was not your ‘décolletage’ I was admiring. As it is, I was in search of that little chap in your possession.”
“Wot?! Dis one’s mine, dearie. Oye landed ’im fair an’ square. Ain’t dis ’ere tall dark an’ droolly gentleman here your date? Oh, Oye gets it. ’e’s the fella wot you works for in this profession. Not me, honey. Oye’m an independent, sees?”
“I say, my word, rather, not, I should say. We do not, my good woman, share your profession. I say, my word.”
“Look there, Persephone, Temperance looks as if he may be regaining a small measure of consciousness.”
“Uhhh, hunhhhh...???”
“Ah, Mr. Temperance? Are you back there behind those red, vacant, glassy eyes that blink with limited comprehension?”
“Uhhhh, Miss … Plumtartt...???”
“Why yes, it is I, Persephone Plumtartt, along with the sober and dashing Kit Eppington. We are familiar with your features, Mr. Temperance, but we would be ever so grateful for an introduction to your charming friend whose red dyed feather dress trimmings are little camouflage for you to hide in.”
“Uhhh, you mean Mimi?”
“OH! It’s Mimi, is it? I say, it is ever so charming to make your acquaintance, … Mimi!”
“You holds on roight there Little Miss Snot-Nose! Oye’m Mimi to me friends, Oye am, but you’se can calls me ‘Miss Froust’.”
“Why, of course, ‘Miss Froust’! My word, certainly, I say!”
“Come on, Icksi, we ain’t gotta stand ’ere an’ takes no guff from dis ’ere pwivileged princess. Oye gots plans for you, lovie.”
“Hunh?”
“My word!”
“Oye knows wotz me wittle Icksi likes, don’t Oye, love, eh? You’se likes it when Oye tickles you loikes dis!”
“Tee,hee,hee,hee,hee,hee,hee!”
“My word!”
“An’ when Oye tickle wickle you’se loike dis!”
“Tee,hee,hee,hee,hee,hee,hee!”
“Mr. Temperance!”
“An’ when Oye gives you a nice big smacker loikes dis.”
-Sah-Moooooooo-Chah!-
“Oh! Gracious! My word! Well! Well! Well! Well, come here Kit!”
Saaaah-
MOOOOO-
OOOOOOOOO-
OOOOOOOOO-
OOOOOOOOO-
OOOOOOOOO-
chah!!!
Chapter Twelve:
The Luck of the Irishman
P.O.V. Constable Joshua O’Hagan
I ken see bye thaeyre gloomy pusses that no one raeturns with good tidings.
“Aye, me fair lassie, Persephone, what news does ye bring me?”
“Oh, Officer O’Hagan, I say, Kit and I searched most assiduously for a ship to bear us to this mysterious island of San Monique, but none gave any indication of having heard of this locality.”
“Persephone is quite correct in this. I foresee some difficulty in gaining passage to this unknown hideaway.”
“Thank ye, Eppington. What aboot you, Ickety?”
“Nary a drop of information could I squeeze from these seaside barnacles. Not only does nobody know where this island is, but they immediately clam up and become more unfriendly than cocklebur underwear at the merest mention of that ill-omened locale.”
“Aye, tis’ the same with me. Even all this distance froom L.A., I can’t shake the aura o’ ‘copper’ from me paersonage. That’s a big strike out for aulle pairties involved, eh? That is, oonless ye’ ’ave soomethin’ to add, lassie.”
“Eh, wot? Who? Me? Oye’m sure Oye could not possibly ’ave succeeded where all you fine an’ upstanding peoples ’ave exercised your impwessive skills, intewect, an’ wesourcefulness. Nope, nuttin’ for me to even bodduh wiff twyin’, weally, ’cept, … ol’ blind Tom came ‘round te’ tells me how’s there’s been some fancied up dude inna silver threaded vest escorting some snot nosed hoighty toighty piss-mop around asking ’bout ‘The Oisland o’ San Monique’. The snoot bags were wantin’ to books passage te’ the cursed place, see, but everyone ’round ’ere knows not to mention this horrid location. Then, it wasn’t long aftuh dat when deh pwecocious wittle scamp, Wukey Pwiscus, comes ’round to tells me ’ow dere’s been a tough little Irishman stomping aboot, tryin’s his ‘Oh, Oye’m naughtte a copper, wea-wy, you ken troost me’ woutine, but the fella woz so st
upefyingly stench ridden with the odour of policocity, that even the most gullible of tiny children would run in terruh from the brutish authority. Oye also had several weports o’ a sweet young Alabama boy politely making inquiries. Then Oye had several contacts from dis area’s supernatural and occult quarters come to tells me that there is bad juju in the air. Oye should lay low while these nosy busybodies, these magnets of doom and ’ellish twoubles were dealt wiff by VooDoo assassination squads to be dispatched at sundown. Uvvuh than that, Oye fails to see how Oye could be of any helps.”
“Gee willikers, it sounds like you did pretty good there, Miss Mimi Ma’am, uncoverin’ all kinds of useful information!”
“Aye! Well doone lass!”
“My word, I must admit so, especially that troublesome news, but useful report on some sort of VooDoo assassination squad, eh, hem?”
“Oye was just kiddin’ about dat part, you stuffed skurht, but then again, you nevvuh know.”
“Aye, Mimi me lass, what course do you advise us to take?”
“Oye knows uvvah powerful VooDoo mystic shaman. She moight be persuaded to help us, but Oye cahn’t guarantee it.”
“What’s her name, Miss Mimi Ma’am?”
“Oye don’t thinks Oye’m quite weady to weveal dat information yet, Icksi. To get any further help from moiee, Oye demands to be cut in on the spoils an’ wecieve an equal split o’ the loot, roight?”
“Oh, bad show, that my dear Mirabella. It seems there is no actual ‘loot’ per se in this little caper we are embroiled within. The naked truth of the matter, my charming red-headed beauty, is that this mission we are embarked on is one in which we intend to free our friends from death and the World from a walking death Damnation.”
“Oye see. Oh, well, Meestuh Eppin’ton, Oye’ll tags along anyways to see aftuh me wittle Icksi pooh. Cootchie, cootchie coo!”
“Tee,hee,hee,hee,hee,hee,hee!”
“Miss Froust!”
“Ho, ho, Oye likes to push your buttoneers, ewe silver spooned dowered duchess!”
“Ladies, please, let’s try and show how ladylike you booth aere, and naughtte tears each oothaer’s eyes out. Naughtte oontil after wae’ve fraed me Keefer and the Right Reverend Dolomite.”
“Ho, ho, don’ be worryin’s aboot me, O’Hagan, it’s ‘Hothead Tootsie’ ovuh ’ere dat’s deh twoubles.”
“Oh! I say! I like that! That’s just rich! I could just laugh! Ha! Ha! Me! The source of trouble! My word! The very thought! I think not! If there is a source of trouble anywhere in the vicinity then I should think then that it resides in you, Miss Froust! Yes! I say! It’s as clear as the nose on your painted face!”
“Easy there Persephone. Kit, laddie, doon’t be shy in gently restraining our excited aristocrat should things escalate to a more physical confroontation.”
“Why of course, Constable.”
“Icksi, if ye’ woould dae the same for our gentle Mirabella?”
“Yessir.”
“Ah, aye, that’s grand. Now then, kind and sweet, Mimi me loove, will ye’ share the name of this WitchDoctor?”
“We be needin’s tae seeks the advice of the hoighly venawated VooDoo pwiestess, Madame Paramarfeigh.”
~***~
“From me place onnae this squared off bow of ye’re match box skeef, I cans’t be seeing any further than these tall marshy reeds we slowly move through. Strange, I don’t remember any geography like this about Galveston.”
“Dang, Officer O’Hagan, this here fog’s so thick, I can’t even see the front of this little ol’ boat from my place in the back where I propel us along, not unlike some romantic City of Venice Gondolier.”
“I do beg your pardon, Mirabella, but I do not understand the requirement of seeking this swampy location after dark?”
“This locale may not be ’ere in the day, Kitty Kit.”
“And ye say the directions are to paerfaerm soome sort o’ heathern ceremonies, preparing a boonch o’ occultist traenkets, and then we are to be affixing these charms to the froont of our flat bottomed mudde skiff. We then have Ickety pole our frail, wooden craft onnae constant heading due Noorth, though we are effectively blind as bats, yes?”
“’at’s roight copper boy.”
“My word, I say, just when shall we expect to make our arrival, Miss Froust?”
“Roight where it always is, Your Majesty.”
“Where is this place Miss Mimi Ma’am?”
“Midnioght, Icksi.”
“An inordinate amount of owls and other predator birdies infest the Spanish Moss laden trees we move between. I see something up ahead. A dirty little blob of light. One weak gleam of lantern light seeps into and is absorbed in the slowly drifting mists. Aye, here we are, me loovelies, for as we push through this last stahnd o’ grasses we come upon a tiny shack, built on stilts. This swamp cabin is clearly inhabited with a madly occultic VooDoo practitioner tenant as the many charms, painted symbols, and disturbing dangling deadbits of whatnots bear stark witness.”
“We’ll tie our little boat to the stilts and climb onto the porch. Now let’s just walk up to the front door and see if we got the right place. Hello?” -knock, knock- “Anybody home?”
“Kahme een.”
“Howdy, Ma’am. An unimaginably elderly woman such as yourself might wanna try and drink some hot, chamomile tea with lemon and honey to help alleviate that painfully harsh rasping attempt at speech. That dry, wheezin’, gaspin’ reply to my knock on the frame was actually kinda creepy.”
“Cspeaeakhe.”
“Yes, quite so, thank you so much, dear and venerated woman. I assume that we are speaking with a powerful VooDoo priestess, eh hem? Yes, I see by your nod of affirmation that we are indeed with all likelihood in the presence of the fabled ‘Lady Paramarfeigh’, yes? Oh, good. It seems, my good woman, that a dangerously powerful colleague of yours has some mad scheme in play. We suspect that it could have planetwide catastrophic consequences, you see. Something along the lines of a ‘Zombie Cataclysmolypse’. That sort of thing, don’t you know. The fellow intends to bring about this dreadful state of affairs from his secret base of operations on the hidden Island of San Monique. Our query for you, my dear, entails divining whether there might be a preferred route to find this elusive Caribbean hotspot, eh hem?”
Aye, the frail little hunchback bag of bones under the taut leather hide pulls herself to her feet. Her hand gestures and head-nodding body language suggests that our little group huddle together in one tight mass in the middle of her shack. The little swamp witch shuffles about our circle, occasionally tossing an occult powder dusting in our direction.
The VooDoo priestess chants in a low and horrible voice.
“Eyes of worm,”
“Tail of frog.”
“Guide these,”
“Dingbats”
“From my bog.”
A sudden goost o’ wind shakes the weee little shack.
“Zombie World”
“Of deadly fright.”
“Sacrificing,”
“Reverend Dolomite.”
A crack o’ lightning and overwhelming thunder nearly blows the loose planked shack out of the shallow water. A massive storm has swiftly developed from nowhere, out o’ doors.
Our little hostess moves now with greater vigor, aye. Her step is more lively and a mad gleam has entered her eyes. The insanity drenched cackle shae follows with does little to makes me feel any better.
“Eeh!hehehehehehehehe!”
“You risk your lives,”
“You gamble your souls.”
“Fortune is fickle,”
“How Lady Luck rolls.”
“Your request is approved,”
“You shall travel far.”
“Careful what you wish for,”
“A date with Sku Le’Bizarre.”
“Fate has brought you together,”
“No time to take a leak.”
“Passage has been granted,”
“
On a ship for San Monique!”
Chapter Thirteen:
Death at Sea
P.O.V. Multiple
“Eeh!hehehehehehehehe!”
“AyeiiiiIIIII say! Yes! Rather! My word! Hear, hear! I should say that this sudden lightning storm and hurricane force gale are our cue to depart, eh? Yes, well, thank you ever so much for your assistance, Lady Paramarfeigh. Though the weather has suddenly turned from still and dank, to torrential terror, somehow your unsettling cackle implies that we are safer to brave the storm than to remain in your quaint abode, eh, hem? Yes, I say!”
“Eeh!hehehehehehehehe!”
“Here you are, Persephone my dear, please allow me to assist you as you step into our amusing little raft.”
“’ey! Icksi! Gits ovuh ’ere an’ lends me a hand, would you dearie? Oh, yes, that’s it me pet; you are so attentive, me boy.”
“Yes Ma’am, Miss Mimi Ma’am.”
“Mr. Temperance! I think, sir, that you should be better served in your efforts if you would propel our craft away from this VooDoo amusement park, and back from whence we came, instead of indulging your unseemly flirtations, thank you very much!”
“Yes, Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt, but to tell you the truth, this here storm has gotta lot more control over this little boat than I do. In fact, maybe I should just quit wasting my efforts at attempting to propel and steer this skiff, because I am having absolutely no influence upon her steering, at all. Instead, maybe I should join in with y’all as you desperately bail water from our craft that is in real danger of submerging.”
“Aye, ye daft twit! Bail this barge lads and lassies, for I doon’t know what direction I woould swim in should we lose the boat.”
“The waters are getting rough! This is just a frail, little ol’ boat, y’all. It ain’t gonna hold up to this batterin’ abuse.”
“Oh! ’elp! Oye’m fallins overboard Oye am! Somebody save me!”
“I gotcha, Miss Mimi Ma’am!”
“Oh, yes, Icksi, you do! The manly way you hold me rain drenched body wiff me thin dress plastered to me heaving breast, pressed hard against your own body ’elps to reassure me an’ makes me feel safe, roight?”
The Measure of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 6) Page 7