Panache and the Curious Affair of the Gin and Tonic

[McClef]

Booths Gin?

Much Better is Gordons or even better still, Plymouth Navy Gin!

[ccga3359]

For my tale of woe it all started with Southern & Seven but I digress. I'll allow the vanquished to tell his sordid yet blemished falsehoods. I'll allow this bovine scatology to continue as I know that the rabble will know the truth when they don't read it in the following book. The rabble knows that I, Grant Q. Regina, are the true hero of this otherwise trite tome. Slander away Messrs. Panache & Dove my solicitors, Will E. Skrewem Esq. and Hugh Betcha LLB are indeed taking notes.

[Standard]

It's amazing how many good stories begin.... and after we had a few beers he said "hey guys watch this."

I wonder what tale is to be laid before us, but I'm sure that it will be very intersting.

int:

[Panache]

Panache and the Curious Affair of the Gin and Tonic


A Victorian Serial told in Chapters

Chapter 1



This is how it all began.


I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a twist of lime…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a twist of lime…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a twist of lime…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes and filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, keeping it simple..

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a squeeze of lemon…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a twist of lime…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a twist of lime…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a twist of lime and garnished it with a spear of cucumber…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with an orange slice…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a twist of lime…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a slice of mango and an artfully arranged tiny pickled squid…

My mind reeled as an infinite number of gin and tonics were made in an infinite number of ways at the same moment in the same place. The dark oak paneled library / libraries of the Great Golden Hall / Halls of X Marks the Scot began to spin and darkness began to envelope my / our vision / visions.


Then everything went black.









Opening my eyes I found my fellow moderators Todd and Nelson holding me up and looking concerned. “Are you alright?” Todd asked. I blinked a few times and looked down at the silver and mahogany cocktail trolley our butler Spasm had wheeled in for our libations promptly as the hour struck 4. A single drink sat there innocently with single small lime wedge floating among the ice cubes.

“I’m fine thank you. I‘m not sure what came over me there“ I said standing on my own and straightening the pleats of my kilt.

Nelson said “all of the sudden your eyes glazed over and you began to pitch forward”

Todd looked at me reproachfully , “How many of those have you had? If Nelson and I hadn‘t grabbed you , you would have collapsed over the trolley. Lucky thing we got to you first“

“Especially since there was 20 year old Macallan in the decanter” noted Nelson , as usual having his priorities straight.

“I haven’t had anything to drink yet.” I reached down for my cocktail and remedied that particular problem immediately.

“Do you think it has anything to do with those big crates from MHICE?” asked Nelson.

“I shouldn’t think so. Mike approved the delivery and I had David’s trained attack badger smell the boxes and they seemed alright to him.”

“Mr. Tibbles is actually useful for something other than clawing the furniture and us? I’m surprised” remarked Todd with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes he can smell explosives and other illegal substances”

“Does David worry about receiving such things often?” asked Nelson

“Err… In truth I think he uses him to check out the effectiveness of the wrappings of packages he mails out”

There was an awkward pause among the three of us as we contemplated the Moderator David‘s possibly sinister epistolary pursuits. .

Nelson stroked his neatly trimmed goatee, “any idea what is in those boxes?”

I shook my head. This morning we had been contacted by the local train station that a delivery awaited the League of the Moderators. Heralds Arlen, Dave, and Dee had been dispatched with a large black lorry to retrieve it. They returned grumbling and sweating some time later with three large crates and one small package. All were addressed to the League, care of none other than myself! The return address was Dorset, England and the sender was one Madam Pleater, Head Director of the Mata Hari Institute of Culinary Excellence? Mike, the most grizzled of Moderators (though in truth he might prefer the terms “seasoned, experienced, or wise“ to grizzled, but being that this narrative is mine and not his I shall stand by my descriptor and dearly hope that he doesn’t read it. But I digress) gave his gruff approval that the crates be taken into the Great Golden Hall without further explanation. Having been previously the recipient of several explosive devices contained in rubber chickens delivered by the post, I took the liberty of borrowing Mr. Tibbles and setting him to examine the crates. Once it had been determined they were safe I opened the one small package, being instructions to do so first were neatly printed on it.

Inside was an ornate, thick, and heavy silver waist plate with a enameled blue and white saltire along with a short handwritten note which read:

Captain Panache,

Please accept and wear this buckle as a token of our esteem and trust. You will have received three crates with this package. Please see that they are taken to your zeppelin. The mechanisms can be installed by your chief technical officer as soon as we have finished our final calculations and calibrated our instruments.

I will directly communicate with you in further detail shortly.

Sincerely

Madame Pleater

P.S. WEAR THE BUCKLE!

Reading the note I had the strangest thought of stuffing lighted rags into and then hurling bottle after bottle of good gin from the gondola of my wonderful zeppelin to destroy an elaborate rose garden in a drugged stupor. It seemed almost like a memory but I could never imagine doing such a strange and wasteful thing.
It was very disquieting that she referred to me as “Captain” and seemed to know of my zeppelin, the Saltire. The existence of the blue and white dirigible was a secret known to few beyond the members of the League of the Moderators and her crew.

I had the crates taken to the hidden hangar of my zeppelin and decided to wear the handsome waist plate.

Feeling somewhat revived from the gin and tonic I again thanked Todd and Nelson and excused myself from the library. Thinking that a measure of fresh air might do me a world of good I started down huge stairway towards the grand foyer for a bit of a stroll through the grounds. From the Concert Hall I heard Nelson's private Symphony Orchestra practicing "Songe d'une nuit du Sabbat" from Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique. It seemed most appropriate considering my strange experience in the Library. I paused a moment to enjoy the music. Nelson's musicians served double duty as his orchestra (and one of the finest on the Eastern Coast) as well as my stalwart crew of the zeppelin XMTSAS Saltire. Continuing onward and stepping onto the first landing I came upon Herald Dove. He, like myself was dressed in a kilt of the proud blue based tartan of our noble forum. His silver horn of office adorned with a dove lay on his breast. Being that he was supposedly well versed in such things I asked him about “Mata Hari Institute of Culinary Excellence”. He thought for a moment and said “Well Jamie, it is said that when Her Majesty’s government has an impossible problem they turn to MI6 and when MI6 has an impossible problem they turn to the MHICE.”

I thought on this for a moment and then asked if he knew anything about “Madam Pleater”. Dave began to speak but I never heard his response.

Because he abruptly vanished in a flash of blue light!

To be continued …

[davedove]

I thought on this for a moment and then asked if he knew anything about “Madame Pleater”. Dave began to speak but I never heard his response.

Because he abruptly vanished in a flash of blue light!

Yikes!!!

[Dirk Skene]

I don't want to alarm you, but there are actually three in progress at this time. Panache, Pleater and I all have stories.

Odd, that three stories should happen simultaneously.

ARggggggg! I can't keep up

[Splash_4]

It appears to the untrained eye, that these three stories are intertwined somehow...

[Phil]

Was it only the one gin and tonic? I must say there is nothing nicer at the end of a long hot day.

[Wompet]

This is how it all began.


I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a twist of lime…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a twist of lime…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a twist of lime…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes and filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, keeping it simple..

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a squeeze of lemon…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a twist of lime…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a twist of lime…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a twist of lime and garnished it with a spear of cucumber…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with an orange slice…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a twist of lime…

I poured a splash of gin over the ice cubes, filled the rest of the glass with tonic water, and finished the drink with a slice of mango and an artfully arranged tiny pickled squid…

My mind reeled as an infinite number of gin and tonics were made in an infinite number of ways at the same moment in the same place. The dark oak paneled library / libraries of the Great Golden Hall / Halls of X Marks the Scot began to spin and darkness began to envelope my / our vision / visions.


Then everything went black.

Hmmm ... shades of Moorcock, if I recall correctly.

[Panache]

Panache and the Curious Affair of the Gin and Tonic


A Victorian Serial told in Chapters

Chapter 2

There was not trace remaining of the herald and I stood there on the empty landing speechless and horrified. A chill went up and down my spine as somewhere above me someone began to clap.

Spinning about I watched the Moderator David pick up his snifter of amber spirits from the railing and smoothly descend down the stairs toward me. As usual he was immaculately dressed in his formal kilted outfit and one of his beautiful hand crafted sporrans. The Englishman bore a wide grin on his clean shaven face. “Well done Jamie! Well done indeed!” he exclaimed in his silky cultured accent and clapped me on the back with his free hand.

“I didn’t have anything to do with …” I stammered before David cut me off.

“Now now Jamie, your first disintegration is nothing to be ashamed off! You should be proud! Think of this moment as the first step into a wider and more fulfilling existence. ”

“Honestly David I didn’t disintegrate Herald Dove! He just vanished in a flash of light.”

“Hmmmm… that sounds suspiciously like disintegration to me . My dear fellow just drop the pretense. You vaporized Dave Dove into his component atoms and there is only one question left!“

“And what would that be? I asked in disbelief.

“Who is next?” he said with a sinister grin and then promptly vanished in a flash of blue light!



The Moderator Bradley raced down the stairs onto the landing.

“JAMIE! YOU DISTINTIGRATED DAVID! “ He shouted in amazement!

“Err no I…”

“WELL DONE!” he exclaimed giving me a big bear hug in his tattooed arms.

“NO! I didn’t. I didn’t do anything! “ I disparately tried to explain .

“Oh you know he would have done it to you. Bravo for getting him first.”

“Honestly he just disappeared in a flash of blue light, just like Herald Dove.“

“You disintegrated Dave Dove as well? I know his agent wouldn’t return your calls but that does seem a bit harsh.”

“I DIDN’T DISINTERGRATE ANYBODY! THEY BOTH JUST VANISHED IN A FLASH OF BLUE LIGHT!” I yelled

Bradley regarded me with a rather queer and puzzled expression .

“People just don’t vanish in a flash of blue light Jamie”, he said vanishing in a flash of blue light.

I was alone on the landing and all was silent.



Silent?



I ran downstairs and crossed the Grand Foyer quickly towards the Concert Hall. Pushing open the massive double doors I spied, from the top of the ramp that led down to the stage past rows and rows of plush seats, the stage filled only with empty chairs and scattered instruments. Nelson’s lone hurdy-gurdy player stood near where I had made my abrupt entrance. He looked at me with a long sorrowful face and said “they left me behind again didn‘t they?” Before I could respond he vanished in another flash of light.



I ran back upstairs to the Library but found only Nelson’s and Todd’s unfinished glasses of whisky. Down the hallway I discovered Mike’s office was empty though his dreaded, ancient, and well used bloodstained mace sat in a charred spot on the floor, presumably where it had been dropped. Turning quickly back into the hallway I crashed into Colin! Based on his mass and speed (and physics being what they are) I was thrown flat on my back to the floor. The burly Canadian Moderator grabbed me and pulled me to my feet “What is happening!” he demanded. “I don’t know!” I replied.

There came a small beeping sound from my waist and the new belt buckle vibrated. A synthesized voice neither male of female stated emotionlessly, " Needle and Pin coordinates calibrated. Activating Thread. Stand by.” A soft greenish glow enveloped the room and faded. “Thread activated, Needle stabilized” concluded the voice and fell silent.


Touching the buckle I could a very slight vibration and the metal was cooler to the touch than it should have been. Colin asked “What does this mean?”
“I don’t know”, I repeated “but let‘s see if there is anyone else left“.



We searched the hall as quickly as we could and eventually we found ourselves back into the Library with the youngest of our Heralds, Arlen, our demented old butler Spasm, and Mr. Tibbles the badger. They were the only ones left in the Great Golden Hall we could find. Arlen was sitting in a brown leather winged back chair looking dazed. Our aged butler Spasm was offering him what he must have thought was a bracing drink ( though the bottle appeared to be of Branston Pickle). Mr. Tibbles, David’s trained attack badger was busy gnawing on a the leg of one of the large oak tables.



From the hallway came the sound of footsteps and we were delighted to see Trefor. Our Welsh Cartographer stepped into the room and poured himself a large whisky from the decanter and remarked “Hello all, is it just me or has everyone disappeared in a burst of bluish light?” He was assured we had all experienced the same thing. He nodded “Oh good, I was rather concerned. Well that and the fact that reality seemed to have winked out of existence beyond our little mountain”

We ran to the window and drew the curtains.

Looking down from our vantage point in the Library of the Great Golden Hall at the winding road that led to the base of our mountain, we saw Trefor was right. Where the road terminated so did reality.

Our mountain floated in a starless void.

To be continued...