Larcener on 26/12/2004 at 01:39
Cherry Mishmash and a Happy News Reel to you and yours ma fett!
Enjoy...stay safe.......but most all all...Enjoy!
fett on 28/12/2004 at 17:51
Here's a little something to tide everyone over till I'm back on schedule:
Chapter 9
The Tumultuous Cacophony
The Docks…the poor part of town…wasn’t I here just a moment ago? I feel like my life is passing me by as I run around from one part of the City to the other.
He made his way back to the piers, being careful to avoid any water.
Yet another restriction on my independence. I just don’t understand it. Not a year ago, I raided Davidson’s ship by swimming around behind it and climbing up. Maybe the water is heavier now? But then, how did the Watch manage to fish me out?
He had bigger questions to answer right now. Like where all his scouting orbs had gotten off to. And what that odd looking square in his apartment was all about.
Now to find the Lost Dylan Recordings. He’d have to find another way around the guards. There were still two of them blocking the entrance.
“Sure are a lot of them.”
“What?” this guy sounded drunk, injured or both.
“Karaoke singers.”
“They came from that club. …the ‘Tumultuous Cacophony.’ Poor bastards…
Definitely drunk…
“Call me crazy, but aren’t they a bit more riled up than usual?”
“They are a bit testy…ya know. Probably ‘cause they’re wet. Messes up their hair.”
“They’re not wet.”
“Well the club where they’ve been singing is in a ship. Stands to reason they’re wet.”
“There’s no water inside the boat you idiot. Wet or dry, they still can’t sing. ”
Garrett looked around but didn’t see any sign of Karaoke singers. Or zombies. What were these guys talking about?
“Like you’re the expert,” the drunk one said. “Don’t worry, if one of them comes out here and starts singing, I’ll be happy to slit your throat.”
“Very kind of you. Hey, since we’re the City Watch, shouldn’t we be doing something about them overrunning the club?”
“Nah. I say we just leave it be. I’m sure it’ll work itself out eventually.”
They broke away from the entrance and headed in opposite directions. Garrett made a running dash for the club. No bouncers this time. No one inside but very drunk people singing stale Doobie Brothers songs. One stumbled past Garrett. He got a good look.
This had obviously been a normal person at some point, but now all that remained was an empty shell of a human being. Eyes glazed over, wearing leather pants and a white shirt unbuttoned to his navel. Gold chains. Half empty Corona in one hand, cigarette in the other. The guy was humming what sounded like a Ricky Martin song as he ambled by. The void behind his eyes was terrifying.
What’s happening here? No wonder it’s called the Tumultuous Cacophony…
He stepped into the shadows of hallway and his ears were immediately assaulted by shrill voices singing badly written R& B songs. Panic gripped him.
The Tumultuous Cacophony had once been a proud ship that made port in the Docks, but eventually it had become un-seaworthy and sold to a new owner who kept it docked and had started a successful Karaoke bar inside. So successful in fact, that the City Watch had established a quarantine because many of the patrons wandered into other sections of the city butchering perfectly good Beatles songs. They had to be stopped.
He descended into the depths of the ship, crossing another room with a stage at the front. A banner over the platform read: “Make The Band Auditions.”
Holy water…I must find my holy water. It always used to work on the undead. The principle should apply…
He tossed a vial of the blue liquid into a group of effeminate looking boys in muscle t-shirts.
“MY MAKEUP!!!” screamed one, as several others shielded their hair from the splatter. The group dispersed toward the dressing rooms reserved for contestants.
The Lost Recording would be meaningless to this group anyway…gotta be around here somewhere…
He dodged a young woman warbling a horrid Christina Aguilera song and headed downstairs, coughing his way through the green fog rolling from the smoke machines on the stage.
At the end of the hall he found a door with a nameplate reading “Moria- Manager.” He broke in and wasn’t at all shocked to find a journal lying open on his desk with all of Moria’s personal and financial information inside.
[indent] Thursday– had to eat at work again. Bar food sucks, but I eat free. You’d think we could find a better cook as well as we’ve been doing lately. I’m taking the weekend off. Haven’t seen my wife Edwiener for a few days since I’ve been working around the clock. Can’t believe how this Karaoke craze has taken over.
Friday – the weekend! Par-tay. Except I’m going around with this Ashlee Simpson song in my head and I can’t get it out. Wonder if it’s contagious? I keep singing it and singing it over and over again. I’ve got to get out of here.
We found a strange looking vinyl LP when we cleaned out the mop closet earlier today. We took a listen on the old record player upstairs that the DJ’s use, but couldn’t understand a word. Maybe it’s in a foreign language. Nobody wanted it, so I took it home. Maybe it’s valuable and I could get something for it on e-bay. Hope Edwiener doesn’t find it. She’ll ask a lot of questions and she wouldn’t like the answers. Like that I’m less of a high-powered record exec and more of a Karaoke bar manager. That I only found that record because I had to clean the bathrooms by myself again. Anyway, I figure if I take it home, it’ll prolong the search for anyone who comes here looking for it.[/indent]
Hmmm…the record mentioned in the journal must be the Lost Recording that the Keepers are looking for…guess I’m gonna have to go to Moria’s house. There’s no way he would have been able to stash it here, Garrett thought, looking around, there’s not enough room to fart, much less hide valuable recordings.
Off to Moria’s then.
He emerged from the ship to a fairly empty pier. He could see Moria’s place on the little island in the distance. It was mysteriously beautiful sitting up there on the cliff. Shame that he’d spent so much energy building such a beautiful mansion instead of trying to solve the problem of the deadly waters that surrounded it…
Where in the world am I going to get a boat? He squinted at the water again. No way in hell I’m gonna risk trying to swim over to Moria’s place
He pondered this for a moment until a glowing blue nose caught his eye. Could it be? Sure enough, there at the end of the pier, a little rowboat had mysteriously appeared with a Keeper sybmol floating over it. Coincidence? Fate? Last minute plot fix? Who would ever know...
He jumped in the boat with great care not to touch the toxic waters, and took off across the bay. He hoped that Moria wouldn’t be home. He couldn’t bear anymore singing.
Bad Breath Dude on 28/12/2004 at 18:04
Nine chapters and still going strong! Way to go fett! have a cookie.
Larcener on 29/12/2004 at 03:07
Ha! Edweiner!!!....HAHHAHAH!
.
.
.
You slay me.
Raven on 30/12/2004 at 19:30
Chapter nine review...
great start
got lost a bit in the middle (only cause I don't really follow music)
brilliant last to paragraphs
ewplissken on 5/1/2005 at 23:54
can't wait for your version of the cradle.
fett on 7/1/2005 at 01:03
Chapter 10
Moria’s Mansion – 9:45pm
The lead from the Tumultuous Cacophony has brought me here, to the manager’s seaside mansion. Well, former manager. Seems Moria and his staff didn’t survive the Rolling Stones Karaoke Marathon last night. But luckily for me, Moria’s journal mentioned an indiscernible vinyl LP that might be the Lost Dylan Recordings the Keepers have been looking for. The journal said Moria took it home – I doubt he knew what he had – just figured he could sell it on e-Bay. My stolen rowboat got me here in one piece, but I’ll be snookered if I can figure out how I learned to row and forgot how to swim all in the course of a few months. Now I just have to get inside and steal the LP. There’s no way of knowing how what the security of Moria’s place is like, but it would make absolute sense for the manager of a Karaoke Bar to employ at least 20 or 30 guards for his residence. The household might be in an uproar over his death, though I kind of doubt it. The guy was a jerk. With luck, no one will catch me sneaking around. The Widow Moria might know where her husband kept his treasures. Unless she’s a raving lunatic, which would make this much more difficult. Maybe I’ll start by paying her a little visit.
Garrett’s boat slid silently up to the pier as he stepped out, extra careful not to touch the water. A nearby elevator shaft led to a long corridor that emptied into a small boathouse. Two identical men sat at a small table playing cards. Twins?
“It’s your turn!” this one was already hostile for some reason.
“I know I know….let me just…think.” Said the other, of whom it was obvious that thinking was clearly an unfamiliar exercise.
“I’m waiting!”
“Don’t rush me! I’m about to go!”
“It’s not that hard,” said the hostile one, “I played a blue 5. You either have to play a blue card or a card of another color with a 5 on it.”
The slow guy threw down a blue ‘draw two’ and a blue 8 card on top of it, then yelled, “UNO!!!”
“Ah burricks! You won!”
“What’s a burrick?”
“You know – those big…green…lizard like….ah, nevermind!”
Garrett made to gas bomb both of them while they were sitting at a table when the sound of a single piano key all around shocked him further back into the shadow.
Why is there a piano in a boathouse?
He looked around but saw nothing. The piano continued to play loudly – one note at a time. The twins didn’t seem to notice anything. One was collecting his wins as the other headed up the staircase.
Outside of the boathouse, Garrett could see the ocean in the distance and began to wonder if the City was actually part of the real world, in a real time period, or simply a fictional place that never really existed except in someone’s head.
He almost had it figured out when the piano hit another series of staccato notes, jarring him from his musings.
Work now, philosophy later.
Three security guards worked the front of the house. Garrett would have thought this was a bit of overkill for a lowly Karaoke Bar manager had he not been startled by the realization that they all looked like the twins in the boathouse.
Quintuplets? All working for the same guy? Unlikely…
This would require some more investigation.
He picked his way over to the side of the entrance and was about to sidle his way over toward the door when he discovered he was absolutely stuck to the wall. He began to panic, but then remembered…
The gloves! I almost forgot after the whole swimming fiasco…let’s give these babies a try…
He reached one hand over the other and was on the roof in no time. His spirit soared. He was giddy with anticipation! Now he could go anywhere in Moria’s mansion and the surrounding buildings using the rooftops! It would be just like old times!
He looked for somewhere else to climb. Nothing. Somewhere to jump to? Nope.
Then why did I bother…? Ah….. He spotted an odd looking spot of brick in the façade of the mansion and pried it open.
A secret entrance! I guess I’m not the only one with super sticky climbing gloves. Unless, they knew I was coming and put this here especially for me….nah…that’s just being paranoid…
The mansion had the typical creature comforts – canopy beds, ugly paintings, fake bookshelves – and of course the ever present piano demon that seemed to be following him around.
He made quick work of looting everything he could find in the upstairs bedrooms, but still no sign of the Lost Recordings.
He could hear guards in the hallways – probably afraid the house guests were going to make off with Moria’s stuff since he was dead. When he got a good look at one of the guards….
It’s the same guy!!??? What’s going on here… His skin began to crawl as he considered the possibilities. Human imposters from the pit of the Maw? Cleverly disguised servants of Karras? Clones? Lazy artists and a rushed release date? He had to get to the bottom of this…
He almost walked in on a hushed conversation in the largest upstairs guest room. A young man and a thin, almost alien sounding voice;
“Please tell your Master Sifo-Dyas that we have every confidence his order will be met on time and in full.
He is well, I hope.
“I'm sorry? Master - ?” the young man prompted.
“Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas. He's still a leading member of the Jedi Council, is he not?
“Master Sifo-Dyas was killed almost ten years ago.”
“Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. But I'm sure he would have been proud of the army we've built for him.”
“The army?” the young man sounded almost as alarmed as Garrett felt.
“Yes, a clone army. What are you, blind? Didn’t you notice that every single person in this house looks exactly the same? Except for us?”
“Well, I did think it odd…” the young man fumbled.
“I’m you must be anxious to inspect the units for yourself.”
“Er….that's why I'm here.”
Garrett scratched his head, I keep hearing about these Jedi…maybe that’s what the Dark Age is all about?”
No time to puzzle it out now, he had to find that Lost Recording. He headed downstairs through the increasingly familiar Viagra fog.
After picking through several nondescript guest rooms, he found the passageway to the upper tower – most likely where the widow was busy grieving her dead husband.
Sure enough, there she was - dressed in black, looking out at the ocean and...talking to herself?
Great…this should be productive…
As he topped the stairs she broke out in song, “’twas brillig and the slithy toves / did gyre and gimble in the wabe / all mimsy were the borogroves / and the mome raths outgrabe…!”
“Say lady,” said Garrett, “Where’s your old man’s stash?”
“BRING ME SOME WINE!!!!” she yelled.
“SHHH……keep it down will ya?” Garrett glanced over his shoulder, “and no way I’m bringing you wine. The last time I drank wine with a stranger it ended with someone getting their eye put out….”
“THEN DINNER!!! WE’LL HAVE DINNER ROBERT!!!”
Garrett hurried down the tower and started scouring the upstairs bedroom in hopes that the clone freaks wouldn’t hear the commotion and come to check things out.
He found one of Karras’ ancient victrola’s in the Master Bedroom. No volume control but he decided to take a chance. If the widow's carrying on hadn’t alerted security, nothing would. He dropped the needle.
”POUR SOME SUGAR ON ME!!!! IN THE NAME OF LOVE!!! POUR SOME SUGAR ON MEEEE!!! C’MON FIRE ME UP!!!!”
He lunged for the off switch just in time to avoid the guitar solo. After hiding behind the door for several minutes he decided it was safe and ventured over to the viktrola again. He looked down at the label.
Definitely not the message for the widow…
After scrounging around a bit through the albums he found it.
M.C. Hammer…Megadeth…Melissa Ethridge…no wonder this guy got into the Karaoke business…Merle Haggard…Meshugga…Message for Widow – got it!
He dropped the needle and prayed to the Builder for a low quality output.
[indent]My dear Edwiener, this is your Robert speaking. I’m pretty drunk, but I’ll try to speak clearly. First, you must send anyone away so they won’t hear this recording which I’ve left completely out in the open so any idiot could come in here and listen to it. Thirdly, I have left some things for you, safe in a secret room. My lucky coin that I have saved over the years. It’s absolutely useless and you have no viable employment skills because you’ve been waited on hand and foot all your life, and you’re a complete wacko, so good luck. If something happens to me – like another DUI – go to my mini-bar downstairs where I’ve installed a switch. It temporarily opens a secret door in the north gallery. I said TEMPORARILY so you’d better haul ass over there instead of waiting on some servant like you usually do. Make good use of what you find there. And always remember to change the litter box. It smells like crap in here.[/indent]
It does smell like crap in here noticed Garrett, fingering an arrow and looking at the cat, but I can’t risk any more noise…
The secret room had to be where Moria was keeping the Lost Recordings.
He found the mini-bar off the main staircase downstairs. But where was the switch?
No way it can be that huge red button under the bar. It’d be too conspicuous.
He pushed it and slid through the shadows back out to the stairs and into the Atrium. An ill-tempered woman was giving one of the girls a tongue lashing for taking the Widow some wine…
Sounds like ol’ Robert wasn’t the only one with a drinking problem…
He tried to make out the details of the conversation, but was distracted by the sheer creepiness of the look-alike guards marching around the atrium. Lighting flashed overhead threatening to give away his hiding spots as he darted from corner to corner.
He made it to the north gallery in time to see a bookcase sliding shut on the east wall.
Perfect timing…as usual. Back to the bar. Why didn’t this idiot install the button in the same room as the door? Like no one would suspect something funny when he went running at top speed from the bar to the gallery and then disappeared for hours…
After several trips back and forth, and piling no less than 14 bodies of servants, guards, house guests and one hideously ugly cat into the corners of the dining room, he finally beat the door and took the elevator into the depths of the caves below the mansion.
Moria’s secret room was nothing to laugh at. Shag carpet, LCD TV, leather couches, mood lighting, killer DVD collection. It was hard for Garrett to stay focused.
Get the Recording now, come back for the rest after I save the world…
There it sat in all its mildewed glory. The Lost Recordings of Bob Dylan. Garrett was curious to see what Moria expected his widow to ‘make good use of’ down here, so he picked the lock to the safe behind the desk.
$500.
$500???!!! What’s she supposed to do with $500 bucks? Deadbeat…
Garrett pocketed the cash. He figured if worse came to worse she could sell the house. It would have been worth millions but for the tricky business of it being out in the middle of the water.
Hey, she made her own bed… he reminded his conscious. Geez…why do I care? Been hanging around Basso too much again…
He threw another switch leading out of the room and back into the cave tunnel under the boathouse.
I could have just saved myself hours if I’d known that was there. Oh well…all in a night’s work. Now to find the Translation Key.
Silver Serpent on 7/1/2005 at 01:52
Excellent stuff, Fett. And I do want to read the Cradle as well. Though I suspect ypu'll be going to the Sunken Citadel next... Happy writing.
dr. cello on 7/1/2005 at 03:03
Quote Posted by fett
Chapter 10
“’Twas briliing, and the slithy tobes…did jire and gimble in the wabe…all mimsy…were the borough groves…and the momeraths, out grabe…!”
It's actually ''twas brillig and the slithy toves / did gyre and gimble in the wabe / all mimsy were the borogroves / and the mome raths outgrabe.' Both gyre and gimble are pronounced with a hard g, as in 'gumption,' not as in 'gelatinous beast'. Not that I've got it memorised, or anything...
Other than that (which didn't bother me much), another good section. Huzzah.
Silver Serpent on 7/1/2005 at 03:37
Isn't that from the poem Jabberwocky?
