Panache and the Curious Affair of the Gin and Tonic

[Spc. Scott]

And we're off!

[Southern Breeze]

[Arlen]

Oh, that darn badger!!!


I am eagerly awaiting more of this fantastic tale. And my beloved wife has just begun the back catalog of your stories so that she can enjoy this one!
A happy house indeed!

[Wompet]

Glen the terrier turned away from the window again. "I wish Jamie would hurry up."
Wompet looked up from the pleat he was sewing. "You just said that."*
"I know, but I think I just saw Dave Dove go floating by with a bevy of foot models ..."**

[davedove]

The Herald Dove concentrated on finding a way to reintegrate his thread of existence into his own fabric of reality. As he focused his will, a spot of light appeared ahead of him. He "swam" through the mismatched socks and discovered a hole to "somewhere else."

He poked his head through the hole and observed his surroundings. All around him was desert sand and coming towards him was a camel that carried a short man wearing the robes of a desert dweller. The man sported an outlandishly long red mustache and was swinging a large scimitar. The man kept swearing something about a "consarned rabbit."

The Herald Dove pulled his head back from the hole and determined another direction to travel.

Obviously he had made a wrong turn at Albuquerque.

[Wompet]

Wompet looked up from the kilt he was working on, his head cocked to the side like a German shepherd with peanut butter on the roof of its mouth.
"Hrrmm ... that's odd."

"This whole situation is odd," sighed McMurdo, turning from the window.
His ears flattened back in terror as he saw the pile of tartan lying still on Wompet's lap. "What are you doing?! Keep pleating or we'll disappear!" he barked.

"Oh, that won't be a problem now," stated a second Wompet from a armchair that had just appeared across the fireplace from the first. "The appearance of multiple Panaches - Panachi? - in our reality has allowed me to do something similar."

A third Wompet turned from a laptop on the dining room table. "As multiple versions of me gather here, our magicks reinforce the protection around us."

A completely dog-like Wompet trotted in from the kitchen and sat by the table. "Not to worry, though. I've talked to Mr. Brown, and he was working towards a solution."
An identical dog trotted in from the kitchen and sat by the first. "No, he is working on a solution."
"Actually, he said he had worked out a solution," stated a third dog, as he sat next to the first two.
They looked at each, and then somehow managed to shrug their shoulders. "Temporal semantics," they agreed.

Two more Wompets dressed in great kilts strode in from the foyer, surrounded by a pack of Wompets running on all fours. The lead bipedal Wompet spoke. "We have coursed the Void, and brought as many of Our Number to the Den as We could find."

"And as Wompet pointed out," said the first Wompet, indicating the third Wompet with a wave of his had, "the more of us that are gathered here, the more protection we have. So I can take a break from sewing."

McMurdo had developed a slight twitch along one side of his jowls. "Jamie, hurry up."









*Sorry, Jamie. I had this written about a month ago, but decided to wait until after the holidays to post it.

[Pleater]

There was a soft chime and an oval of blue and golden light appeared, through which stepped an elderly man in a linen tunic and small kilt with a long plaid, carrying a dirk and small machine pistol on plaited leather crossbelts, and in his hands a large sack. At his heels trotted a large badger, which circled around and then sat down beside the portal on guard.

There followed by a boyish figure in white shirt and jeans, carrying a Tantalus of fine cut glass decanters, who made way for a smiling Madam Pleater who carried a large silver platter balanced on her head and one hand.

'Is there any news?' McMurdo cried his ears swiveling forwards and upwards alertly.

Not yet - that is - I haven't heard anything yet - but I thought you might be in need of some refreshments, something to fortify the body and spirit. This' She gestured vaguely towards the curtained window,
'Is rather wearing. So I thought I'd raid the pantry at the House, and see what I could come up with.'

The older man opened the top of the sack, and as one dog all the four footed Wompets gathered around, then sat up on their haunches and begged, with a general sniffing and sighing. He looked at Madam Pleater, who nodded, very carefully, and he began to lift out large steel bowls, each with a click up lid. As each one was opened and placed on the floor one of the eager Wompets attempted to nosedive into it, and there was much pushing and shoving to be next in line. The Tantalus and the platter were placed on the table, and the bipedal Wompets approached to peruse them.

'These are herbal cordials.' said Madam Pleater as she unlocked the Tantalus. 'You may drink any of them with safety now - but when the real world returns, do not touch them. I brought our ordinary broken orange Pekoe tea, which is always good in a crisis and a few bits of food to tide you over.'

The platter was laden with meats, a large loaf of bread, bowls of salad, cold potatoes and other vegetables, a tin of biscuits and a fruitcake and several jars and packets.

'Yes - I should think so.'

'Good - Jamie, Edward -'

'Jamie?' said a Wompet.

'Yes - this Panache was not strong enough to join the expedition - so Mr Brown brought him back to MHICE. Matron is going to make strengthening beef tea for him and see if we can get him to a doctor when things are back to normal.'

'Oh - good luck.'

The slender figure gave a nod, and smiled shyly.

'We'd better be going - there's good fellows.'
Her way was blocked by a pack of happy Wompets wagging their tails enthusiastically.

The older man indignantly drew his dirk and the sagacious hounds abruptly parted to form a corridor, though they were not sufficiently intimidated to stop wagging.

Madam Pleater vanished through the portal, followed by the Panache and lastly the older man, who whistled to the badger which bounced after him and then the light gradually faded.

'Here, have a glass of this - I think it is elderflower.' The bipedal Wompets were sharing out the drinks and munching on chunks and slices of whatever took their fancy.

The original Wompet put aside the sewing and he and McMurdo joined the others at the table, there was a general finding of chairs and bringing in items from the kitchen, and there was a silence broken only by 'Pass the pickles' 'Pour us another, please' or 'Cut a piece of that would you?' until they all sat back and gave contented sighs.

After a while there were only slight snores and the occasional shuffling of the quadrupedal Wompets as they sought a larger piece of hearthrug or a more comfortable bit of another Wompet.

One Wompet stirs in his armchair and an almost completed kilt slides to the floor with a soft flumph.

'Jamie - you're missing the party - all the sloe gin is gone,' he murmurs as he rotates a little in the seat.

A sloe smile appears, and then gradually slides away as he sinks down into the cushions and into the arms of Mobius.

[Panache]

Friends,

I appreciate the gentle nudgings that have been offered to get me writing again.

I hope to get things rolling along soon (Our upcoming Burns Night has been the focis of my creative energy as of late)

When I do I shall replace this post with something a little more Victorian.

Until then, my compliments and good will

ith:

Jamie

[davedove]

The Herald Dove continued his journey through the sock filled void. Strangle, he found other items besides mismatched socks in this strange realm: small amounts of change, sets of keys, and several pairs of eyeglasses. Apparently, all lost items arrived in this place.

Ahead, he spotted something very strange. For all appearances, it seemed to be a never-ending tube, stretching out past the limits of his vision. He approached the tube and examined it closely.

Swirls of color coursed along the tube. As he placed his hand on it, he could feel energy flowing. The surface of the tube was not solid, yet he could not penetrate its interior.

"Amazing," he thought to himself, "it seems to be an Einstein-Rosenberg bridge!"

As he watched, something seemed to be sliding down the tube, or rather someone, a number of someones, in fact. The first person that passed before him was a heavyset, professorial type, with long dark hair and beard. The second was a dark skinned man, dressed in fancy twentieth century clothing. The final two were younger than the others, perhaps in their twenties. One was a young man, the other a waifish girl.

He watched as the strange party slid past him out of sight. "If only I could join them," he mused.

He tried following the tunnel, but soon after the party of "Sliders" disappeared from view, the tunnel also disappeared.

The Herald Dove picked a direction and continued his journey.

[Arlen]

He tried following the tunnel, but soon after the party of "Sliders" disappeared from view, the tunnel also disappeared.
The Herald Dove picked a direction and continued his journey.

*Smirks*


And here I was thinking the tubes you were describing were 'The Internet.'