The Case of the Neighborhood Nuisance

“Well that was an odd book,” I thought. “I’m glad to be done with it. Too many weird characters, rhyming quests and not enough romance or violence for me.”

It only took me 2 years, 3 months and four days to finish it. What, with being a stay-at-home (ha!) mom to three kids. My kids.

I sighed and glanced at the clock. 3:13 a.m. What else could I get done, I thought, now that I had some time to myself? I brushed the hair away from my face and felt something sticky. “Hmmm. Wonder what that is?” I tasted it. It was YoBaby! Vanilla crème yogurt. “That’s pretty good,” I thought. “I wonder if there’s any left?” I reached again for my hair, but then thought better of it and negotiated my way to the fridge. One more container left. “Me or the baby? Me or the baby?” I asked myself before giving in and ripping off the lid. It was gone in 2 bites. “Hmmffph. Who the hell ever thought to make such small containers?” I asked the empty room. “Oh, yeah. It’s for the baby.”

“Well, I better get baking,” I thought, “so little miss perfect and her mini-me don’t get their panties in a wad thinking I’m not bringing anything to the Halloween Hoedown this weekend. Chocolate chip pumpkin muffins aren’t fancy, but they’re going to be devoured. Much more quickly than whatever fancy-schmacy delicate delight she brings.”

(Propietaria de Casa Amarilla)
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An hour later, not a creature was stirring, especially my spouse. I smiled to myself. The timer on my oven just beeped and I opened the door and inhaled deeply. The smell of the muffins nearly caused me to swoon with delight. A moment later with a mouthful of the sweet treat and a steaming latte warming my hands I sat contemplating the day ahead.

Apparently, I had dozed off without realizing it. A low wail disturbed my dreams. The volume increased exponentially and I jumped to consciousness realizing that the baby was awake. I stood abruptly spilling the now cold latte in my lap. No matter. The spreading stain coordinated with the yogurt still in my hair as well as the recently acquired muffin crumbs.

I dragged myself upstairs, trying to avoid the toys the twins had left strewn about with care. I knew that one little squeak and they would be up competing in a volume competition with their baby sister. I made it up twelve stairs, past every noisemaking toy we own when I suddenly stepped on a piece of Lego. Even though I bit back every expletive that came to mind and emitted only a quiet hiss and a guttural "CRAP!", the boys sensed my misery and simultaneously bolted from the room they shared knocking each other over in the process. I simply shoved them in the direction of the stairs and went to rescue their 9 month old sister. My dear sweet husband snored on, oblivious to the chaos. "How the heck did I get here?" I wondered.

My name is Daisy Campbell and I know exactly what led me to this place in life. Hank. Hank and I met in college, fell in love and married soon after graduation. He pursued a career with the fire department and I taught elementary school. Seven years later we decided that we needed to stir things up so we indulged in our favorite extracurricular activity, sans safety gear, and got pregnant. Okay, I got pregnant. With twins! Boy twins! Cool Hand Luke and Dirty Harry... cute, huh? A few years later, wanting again to spice things up again, we wound up with a little girl! We christened her Janie Sue but we call her Sparkle. Hank and I believe in the value of having a stay-at-home parent which is how I got this job. I had previous experience with kids and Hank didn't think he was up to the task. As I reflect on my life while I watch my beautiful, darling children sleep, a glass of wine in each hand, I think, "Of course I am up to this job. I am WonderMom! I have been blessed with the most amazing children on earth." It's when they are all awake that I have second thoughts.

Up half the night I felt a little bleary eyed but what was new? I made it downstairs, corralled the twins, put Sparkle in her high chair and started the breakfast proceedings. Soon Sparkle had gummed half a blueberry waffle and the boys had mowed through several bowls of Froot Loops. As I gazed, half-awake, lovingly at my children, I felt something wet and cold drip into my lap. At the same time my right cheek was on the receiving end of a very gummy waffle chunk. Not two seconds later I heard Hank yell, "Honey! Where's the toilet paper?" I, of course, had forgotten that the boys had used all the remaining toilet paper the day before to turn each other into mummies. Then, the cat began to yowl and then puke in a dramatic and protracted manner. "Oh, boy," I cringed. "It's only 6am. What next?"

[Mommy Hawk]

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I was at my wits' end, torn between courses of action. Disarm Sparkle, who was turning the kitchen into a sticky disaster, grab the cat to see if it was in the throes of death... and if it wasn't, call the vet... or take the new roll of Cutrite wax paper upstairs to Hank as a substitute for the Charmin the kids had used up. As I hesitated there was a flash of blue light, a crackling sound and the smell of ozone. For an instant, I thought it was some kind of electric short and my heart plummeted into my Nikes. Another domestic disaster! The lights stayed on, however, and the refrigerator continued to hum. No cries of alarm from the bathroom upstairs. Just as I regained my equilibrium I was startled to see a strange figure standing in the corner of the kitchen. Alarmed, I cried out, "Who are you? What are you doing in my kitchen? Hank! Hank!" I confess that I was a little bit alarmed.

Before I could grab the phone and dial 911 the odd figure spoke. "Hang on a minute, Daisy. No need to panic. I'm your fairy godmother."

"Yeah, and I'm the Dalai Lama, you freak! Out! Out!"

In fact, she looked a little bit like the Dalai Lama in drag, if you can picture him in a blond stretch wig, an ankle-length tutu covered with sparkly stuff and a tiara. She was holding a wand with a star on one end. I wondered if it could be used as a weapon. I grabbed a spatula, raised it in a threatening manner and shouted, "Scram!"

She rolled her eyes and said, "Why do I always get this kind of reaction? You'd think no-one had ever heard of fairy godmothers. Boy, is this a thankless job. Hey! I really am your fairy GM."

"Prove it!" I challenged, gauging the distance between me and the telephone and playing for time.

The person in the corner sighed, pointed her wand at the poor cat who was staggering in circles after having just evacuated her entire gastro-intestinal tract, and said, "Epizootics!" There was a puff of smoke and in the cat's place stood a penguin. "That do it, Hon?" I could only gape mutely. "Okay, then," she went on, "I'll tell you why I'm here." The penguin pooped on the floor. I mustered up a feeble, inquiring look. She continued, "I need your help. I need your unique problem-solving abilities, your stamina, your bravery in the face of fire."

"Me?' I asked. "Why me? I don't have any of those qualities. Where would I get those qualities? I'm only a full-time mom with three children and a husband who need a firm hand."

"I think you just answered your own question. You are intrepid, and I need intrepidness. Intrepidity? Intrep-whatever. I need you to go on a special mission. Specifically, a mission that will take you through time, back to the early 1940's, back to Nazi-occupied Romania, to rescue a key nuclear scientist from the Nazi swine and smuggle him across Eastern Europe to the Allies. You'll be given a code name: Danger Woman."

"What about my family?"

"Suspended animation will do the trick until you get back."

"I dunno." I hesitated. "I have a pedicure on Wednesday."

[Dear Old Dad]

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"Hon? Hon!!"

It sounded like Hank was very far away. I looked up and my eyes cleared a little. He was standing in the corner with not a wand, but a pee stick in his hand.

"What's wrong with you? he asked. "You got your meds mixed up again, didn't you? You're supposed to take one happy pill and two blood pressure pills in the morning. It scared me when you started shouting for me. And, what's Harry doing in his Halloween costume from last year? He doesn't want to be a penguin again, does he? I thought we were dressing the kids as Moe, Larry and Curly. We agreed on it. By the way, it looks like he got his diaper off again. Whew! You gotta get that cleaned up!"

I slumped into a kitchen chair. "I really do need to be more careful with my meds," I thought. "The happy pills are great, but they can go a little far when I get the dose wrong. Geez."

I glanced over at Hank and my heart did a little flip-flop. Not because he was so handsome, standing there trying not to gag at the poop on the floor, but becuase of what he held in his hand. I had forgotten all about taking the test last night. Afraid of the results, I had set it aside and kept my mind busy with finishing my book. That never-ending quest. That's what caused me to forget about the test. (Dammit, there's that rhyming thing again.)

"What?" Hank said. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I'm not staring at you. I'm staring at that," I responded.

He looked down at the pee stick in his hand. "Oh, yeah," he said. "You're pregnant again and you don't even bother telling me? I have to find the test lying around? Or were you trying to surprise me like you did the first time? 'Cause this is definitely a surprise!"

"Oh, my God! It's positive?!?" I shouted, not exactly, um, thrilled. "Well, it's got a pink line here," Hank said.

Grabbing it from his hand, I looked for myself. "Geez, Hank! You'd think that an award-winning fireman with a PhD would at least be able to correctly read a pregnancy test. TWO pink lines is a positive. This is definitely negative. See? Just one line. That's the control line. And, I wouldn't even be taking the test if you handn't got so frisky with me after the Fireman's Ball last month."

"Whew," I thought as my heart slowed. "Not that I don't love my darling little babies (when they're sleeping), but another right now wouldn't exactly have me doing the happy dance. But, then again... Do you want another baby?" I asked Hank?

With a somewhat frightened look in his eyes, Hank simply started backing out of the kitchen.

[Fertile Myrtle]
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Days later, after my chocolate chip muffins trumped little miss perfect's fancy-schmancy delicate delights at the Halloween Hoedown, after I stocked the closet with a buttload of toilet paper (we're talking Costco size buttloads), after I finally broke down and bought one of those weekly pill organizers to help me keep my meds straight, after I double and triple checked to make sure that our family was not unexpectedly expanding, I found myself alone enjoying a strong cup of coffee and the delicious sounds of silence, no kids, no husband, no cat, just me and the dawn. "Life is good," I thought.

Or so I thought.

I decided to stretch the moment. "Should I go and enjoy a hot shower in my newly remodeled bathroom or retrieve and actually read the newspaper?" I wondered. After using several precious moments deliberating, the newspaper won.

I grabbed one of Hank's old jackets which were hanging on a coatrack by the door and put it on over my pajamas. I was glad I did as there was a definite bite in the air this November morning. I flipped on the porchlight and stepped outside glancing around for the newspaper. The carrier was inconsistent at best and seemed to enjoy sending subscribers on endless hunts for the paper. After a moment or two of searching the porch and walkway without luck I wandered over toward the car. As I rounded the front end of the van, a silver Honda Odyssey, my foot made contact with something soft. "Finally!"

I reached down to pick up the paper and expected to feel the frosty plastic bag encasing it. Much to my surprise my fingers closed around something more akin to fur. I jumped back in disgust. Fred, our feline hunter, must have left his latest kill on the driveway. Not wanting the kids to see his prize, I went back inside and retrieved the flashlight. "I might as well dispose of the kill before the children wake up," I decided.

Armed with the flashlight (darn these dark November mornings) I approached the car and aimed the beam toward the dead animal. Only it wasn't a dead animal. It was a dead leg, a dead furry human leg... attached to a dead man! Not knowing what else to do, I screamed.

[Caroline]

__________________

No sooner had I let out a shriek than there was a flash of blue light, accompanied by a crackling sound and the smell of ozone. I jumped back reflexively and stared. There in the glow of my flashlight was the Dalai Lama again, replete with her tiara, sparkly tutu and wand with a star on the end. This time I noticed that she was wearing Converse All-stars with skulls and crossbones all over them. I felt my forehead to see if I was feverish.

"Beat it!" I said. "You're just a figment of my imagination."

"Well, maybe so, dear," responded the fairy godmother person, "but I only show up when I'm called."

This was irritating. "Funny," I said, "I don't remember calling you. And even if I were demented enough to want to call a fairy godmother I have no idea of how to go about it. So clearly you are mistaken or are up to something. Scram!"

"Tsk, tsk," said the fairy godmother. "You can't call me on a cellphone! No, I respond to stress. And Daisy, honey, you are a prime candidate for my help." There was an unmistakable low squeak and the fairy godmother blushed. "Oops! Too much fiber!"

"Help?" I gritted between clenched teeth. I could feel the muscles in the back of my neck bunching up. "Who needs help? I have everything under control. Stress? Me? I'm a poster girl for cool! Go away!"

"You ignored me last time. Whassa matter? My offer of a secret mission not good enough for you? Maybe you didn't like the name 'Danger Woman.' No biggie, I guess, but had you taken me up on the offer it would certainly have been a change of pace. But I have other irons in the fire. Things that need a person of your caliber to tackle them and wrestle them to a conclusion. These kinds of adventures will redirect your stress big time. No time to ponder whether the plumber will show up before the basement floods or if the exterminator will be able to zap the possum-size rat in the attic before it chews the electric cable or gets into the Froot Loops. What do you say? I can come up with a better nom de guerre!"

"Hit the road!" I responded. "By the way, I don't know if you noticed but I have a dead body in my yard. Pardon me while I go call 911."

"Ooh! An adventure! Don't call 911! You can solve this crime yourself!" the fairy godmother exclaimed, hopping up and down and clapping her hands together. "I've got your back! It'll take your mind off your domestic tribulations, your familial angst! You go, girl!"

"I hate that phrase," I answered. "Vamoose." The fairy godmother receded into the gloom. I wondered if and when she would reappear. If stress conjured her up, then I needed to stay calm, cool and collected at all times. I took a deep breath, counted to ten and looked around. She seemed to be gone. Good. I looked toward the car and the leg that protruded from under it. "I wonder who it could be?" I whispered to myself. "Hmmm..."

[Confused]

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"Good morning!!!" I heard, as the scent of some (probably very expensive) perfume engulfed me.

"Oh, no," I groaned to myself. First a figment of my imagination and now someone I desperately wish was just a figment of my imagination.

"Well if isn't Miss Creme Brulee," I said. "Trying to get some fresh air before the sunrise sends you back to your coffin?"

"Oh, Daisy!" She laughed brightly, completely oblivious to my well-aimed venom. "I was just stepping out to get the paper when I heard a strange screech. I was thinking one of Mr. Jenson's cats is in heat again, but then I saw you standing out here with a flashlight. Was that actually a scream I heard?"

"Yes, it was a scream you heard," I answered through clenched teeth. "What would you do if you discovered a dead guy lying on top of your morning paper?"

"Daisy! Such jokes at such an early hour! Certainly you can't be serious," she said as her eyes followed the beam of the flashlight.

"Oh! You are serious! Oh! Oh... my... God!" she stammered, her gaze locking onto an ankle tattoo I had missed during my first glance. "I know him," she whispered.

"That's... that's..."

[Frumpy]
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"Alexi! Alexi Groshenko! He moved into the house next door about six months ago. I'd recognize that tattoo anywhere!"

"Does he have a family?" I asked.

"No, he was alone. He didn't talk much about himself. I don't know if he has relatives elsewhere or not. And he didn't socialize much... I never saw anyone coming or going at his house. I don't think he was local. He had an eastern European accent, so he might have been foreign."

"Were you friends?" I was curious to learn what else she might know.

'Not really. He and I... that is, we occasionally... er, sometimes he'd come over, we'd have a few drinks and then... I mean to say, uh, we didn't converse much."

I wondered what, beyond the obvious, she wasn't telling me. "How do you suppose he died?" I asked, as much to myself as to Ms Brulee. I looked at the body more closely. I had a feeling that the odd tattoo Creme pointed out was a clue to the dead man's origins. The victim was dressed as if he were going on safari. He was wearing sturdy hiking boots, khaki shorts with large patch pockets on the sides and a hunter's vest with lots of pockets and loops for ammunition. Suddenly, that song from the old Marx Brothers movie jumped into my head: 'Hooray for Captain Spalding, the African explorer...' I was so puzzled by the fact that he had one hairy leg that I almost didn't notice the obvious. He also had a large, olive drab, military style knife protruding from his chest. "Oops! Scratch that last question," I said, then added, "Wow! Who'd a thought he had so much blood in him!" As the approach of dawn began to provide more light I could see that a large pool had formed in the driveway. "What do you suppose he was doing here, at my house, in the middle of the night?"

[Arf]

________________

"Daisy? Hon? You out here? Hello?" I turned around to see Hank and the two ambulatory kids approaching from the house. I stepped forward to block their view, but I was too late. Hank stopped in his tracks, did a double-take, and paused. His face reflected the shock he felt upon seeing the body in the driveway. "Holy ca-rap!" he exclaimed. "What happened? Who's that?"

"Well, according to Creme, his name is Alexi Groshenko and he lives... er, lived... in the house on the other side of her. I found him when I came out to get the paper. We have no idea of what happened, except that he was stabbed in the chest. I was just going to come in and call the police."

"Oh, man!" Hank responded. "Don't call the cops! They'll be here all morning and I have to get to work. I need to be in the office early. I have to do a big presentation to one of our most important customers. Black Ops Anonymous. You remember... they're the military contractor, think tank, skunk works and weapons developer I told you about. I have to be there. No ifs, ands or buts!"

I looked at Hank. "OK, smart guy, what else can I do? We can't just ignore the body. We have a murder on our hands, for Pete's sake!"

"I have an idea," Hank said. "Let's haul him down to cranky old Ms Crotnik's yard. We never have liked her anyway, not since the way she yelled at our kids."

My first reaction was that Hank was nuts, but then the thought began to have some appeal. That old bat! "What about all that blood?" I asked. "Surely the police will see it when they check the neighborhood." I glanced over and to my unhappy surprise the kids, unfazed by the dead body in the driveway, were splashing in the pool of blood and giggling.

"We can toss them in the tub and while you scrub them down I'll hose off the driveway. But let's hurry! I have to be out of here in twenty minutes.

"OK," I responded, against my better judgement. "It's getting light and we don't want to be spotted. I'll grab the hairy leg. Creme, you take the other one. And, Hank, you grab his shoulders. We need to be quick." On the count of three, we lifted Creme Brulee's erstwhile neighbor. "Holy moley!" My voice cracked. "This guy weighs a ton! I'm going to ache for a week!"

"Hey!" Hank gritted. "I have the heavy end!"

Grunting and panting we wrestled the body across the streets and deposited it a couple of doors down on the front steps of Crotnik's house, then ran back home like kids who'd just played a Halloween prank. Hank grabbed the garden hose and I tucked a kid under each arm and headed inside to toss them in the tub. Just as I did so, Creme announced that she was feeling a bit peckish, what with the exertion, and was going home to have a cup of tea and a shot or two of peach schnapps. When I passed through the kitchen I was relieved to see that my youngest was still safely bolted down in her high chair. The tray in front of her was as clean as a whistle but she'd textured the room with baby food. It looked like a crime scene of a different sort. Mentally, I dared the police to come into my kitchen.

[Beta Dog]

__________________

I got the bathtub started and plopped the boys in with a stern warning not to splash. Then, I ran back to Sparkle and the mess in the kitchen. Good. The cat was already taking care of it. "No wonder he barfs so much," I thought. "We really should think about getting a dog. The cleaning would probably go a little quicker."

I wiped Sparkle down as best I could and went back to check on the boys. I had already left them longer than is prudent. Actually, they couldn't be trusted for five seconds, but I do have a daughter, a cat, a husband and now a dead body I had to worry about, too.

"Boys!" I shouted when I walked into the bathroom. No response, just continued splashing and hilarity. "Helllloooooo!" Nothing. "Okay. I'm turning on the cold water now," I said in desperation.

"Nooooo!" they yelled in unison, suddenly able to hear and completely attentive.

"What happened?" I asked again.

"Luke was pretending to be Batman," said Harry, "and I was pretending to be Darth Vader with my light saber and Peter Pan with my dagger. He kept driving his batmobile at me, trying to run me over and-"

"Enough!" I said. "Forget I asked." Heaven help me if those CSI guys decide to come in here with their luminol and black lights. It'll look like... like... well, like there's blood all over the place. What was I going to do? Surely the cat couldn't help me out with this mess.

Shit.

[Batmom]

__________________

And show up they did. It was only an hour or so later that the doorbell rang. I peeked out through the beveled glass in the front door and saw a man in a blue uniform. Obviously not the UPS delivery person... UPS wears brown. I opened the door a crack and said, "Yes?"

"Officer Togglebolt. Police. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind stepping outside for a few minutes."

I put on my most nonchalant expression and hoped it didn't just make me look goofy. "What's up, officer?" I asked, staring at his badge to let him know that I had his number and wasn't going to cut him any slack.

"Step outside, please."

"Look, I have three children who may be running amok even as we speak." I stepped out and pulled the door toward me so it just remained ajar. Then I paused and cocked an ear toward the door. "Do you hear anything, officer? No? Thank goodness! Now, what is it?"

"We're canvassing the neighborhood to find out if any of the residents may have seen or heard anything out of the ordinary last night or early this morning. Your neighbor, Dorcas Crotnik, called 911 this morning at 0700 hours to report finding a deceased person on her front steps. It appears that the victim wasn't killed at that location but was deposited there by a person or persons unknown. Did you see anyone, neighbor or stranger, out and about early this morning? Did you see an automobile you didn't recognize, or hear any unusual sounds?"

"Not a thing," I answered, maintaining eye contact (I've read that the first sign of a lie is averted eyes) and smiling what I hoped was a relaxed, winning smile... and not a grotesque grimace. "Do you know who the corpus delicti is?"

"I assume you mean the victim. The Latin term corpus delicti means the body of the crime; not the individual." Officer Togglebolt looked at me as if to say, "Civilians!" Then he went on, "We can't release the name until we've located next of kin. We'll need to take a look around your yard, just as we will your neighbors', to see if there is any evidence that someone may have come through to the street from the alley behind you. It's unlikely that anyone could have done that carrying a body, but stranger things have happened."

"Help yourself."

With that, the police officer left, apparently headed toward Creme Brulee's house. I crossed my fingers and said a prayer that Creme would play dumb. Unless she blabbed, how were the cops to know that Alexi... whatzizname... Groshenko had gone feets up at my house? There was no visible sign of blood in the driveway, and probably none in the bathroom where I'd laundered the kids. I'd already tossed all our bloodstained clothes in the washing machine. Besides, if I declined to let them in the police couldn't enter the house without a warrant, and to get a warrant they had to have probable cause. I was still uneasy, though. I wondered what the penalty was for tampering with a crime scene.

An hour or so later, with the kids ensconced in the family room raptly watching the Backyardigans, I was in the breakfast room with a cup of tea, fretting. First, I was dying of curiosity to know who Groshenko was and what he was up to when he bought it, and second, it occurred to me that if I were able to identify the killer the appreciative authorities would probably stop poking around the neighborhood. "Sounds good," I said to myself, "but how in the heck do I go about this?"

[Dog Star]

___________________

I took another sip of tea and wished for something a little stronger but with the kids in the other room I couldn't afford to. Who knows what havoc would be wreaked with me passed out on the sofa. I stood up and went in search of something to accompany my tea, maybe a healthy slice of whole grain toast. Without thinking I opened the cookie jar instead of the the bread box. What the heck? Cookies go with tea even better than toast!

Sixteen Oreos later I had a serious sugar buzz going and was ready to tackle the problem at hand...the dead man. Now where to start? I didn't have any serious detecting experience (unless you call locating lost toys and keys experience) but I had read a fair number of murder mysteries in my time. Surely I had gleaned something helpful from them. Let's see...if I were the detective/private eye/meddling woman (neighbor, wife, chef) I would probably start by snooping around and asking questions. I decided to start with Creme. She denied knowing much about Alexi but something told me that she was holding back.

I figured that since the cops had gone in the direction of Creme's house I would give it a little more time before I started investigating on my own. I tidied up the kitchen and checked on the kids. Fortunately, today was a preschool day so I got the boys fed, dressed and in the van. I scooped up Sparkle and the diaper bag and shoved her in the van as well. We motored over to the preschool which was located just a few miles from our house. I was so eager to start investigating that I barely came to a full stop when I shoved the boys out the door with a wave. Belatedly, I rolled down the window and hollered a quick, "Mommy loves you!" as I raced away. Knowing I had just a couple of hours Sparkle and I headed back home. As I turned down our street I looked to see whether the cops were still around. I didn't see any patrol cars so I parked quickly, grabbed Sparkle and started in the direction of Creme's house.

I always felt a little self conscious when in Creme's presence. She looked like she was dressed by the famed Stacy and Clinton and she made homemaking an art form a la Martha Stewart. I, on the other hand, wore oversized tops and elastic waist pants courtesy of Target and could barely keep up with my children's extensive experience redecorating with various food stuffs.

Oh, well. I shifted Sparkle further up on my hip, plastered on a smile and knocked on Creme's door. A few seconds later the door opened and Creme stood there, eyes darting about nervously. Without warning she grabbed my arm and yanked me and Sparkle inside. She shut the door, locked it and then led us silently into her perfect kitchen. The only thing that seemed out of place was the giant bottle of peach schnapps she had sitting next to her delicate flowered china teacup.

After we sat down Creme whispered, "Are they still here in the neighborhood?"

"I didn't see the police when I came back from the preschool so I guess they are gone for now," I said.

Creme breathed a sigh of relief. "Schnapps?" she inquired.

For someone who claimed to have barely known the dead man Creme was certainly acting strange. I busied Sparkle with some non-valuable looking knickknacks from the living room shelves, prayed I could afford to replace them and that they weren't lead based, and returned to Creme.

I decided that the best detective/p.i/meddlers simply got straight to the point so I struck a casual pose, looked at Creme and said, "I find a dead guy in my driveway, a guy you knew, sort of, as he was your next door neighboor with whom you boinked from time to time. What did you tell the cops about our pre-dawn operation and what are you not telling me about Alexi?"

[Caroline]

______________________________

"I didn't tell the police anything. And, look, Daisy, I really don't to be involved with whatever it was that Alexi was into. I really didn't know him very well. One night, when he'd had quite a bit to drink, I asked him where he was from and what he did for a living. He gave me a kind of crooked smile and didn't say anything for awhile. But later, after we had... er, uh, you know... made love..."

"Love?" I interjected.

"OK, maybe love isn't the right word," she responded. "But what would you call it?"

"Boink."

"Boink?"

"Yeah. Go on. Sorry to have interrupted."

Well, after we had made boink, he did say, as if to get it off his chest, something about having been with the Bulgarian state intelligence apparatus before the end of the cold war made the agency superfluous. Later, apparently he and some others like him decided to capitalize on their professional skills and went into business for themselves. I didn't ask him what that business was. I didn't want to know."

"That's interesting, kind of," I said. "But that's it? You get a hint of something that sounds like it could be sneaky, secret, slimy, skulduggerous (is that a word?) and you didn't grill him? Jeez, Creme!"

She looked crestfallen. Thank goodness I happened to glance to my left barely in time to see Sparkle tugging on a lace table cloth covering a delicate mahogany table on which sat a collection of what appeared to be small, antique Chinese figurines. I snatched her up just as the first of the objets d' arte reached the edge of the table. Esthetic value aside, all I could think of was how it would probably take all my future earnings, and Hanks, to pay for the damage. My heart pounded. As I caught my breath I caught a movement in the shadows of the next room. It was my fairy lama. "I don't need this!" I thought.

"Stress!" the fairy godmother whispered, making a tsk, tsk sound.

Ignoring the FGM, I turned back to Creme. "Sorry," I said. "It's just that if we knew more about the victim... Alexi... we might have a better chance of figuring out why he was killed. And if we knew why, we might have a chance to noodle out who killed him. And, by the way, it makes me nervous..."

"Nervous!" said the fairy godmother from the next room.

"... to think of him being killed right here in front of my house. Practically in front of your house," I added for effect.

Creme grew pale. "Oh, my," she said. "To think that the killer could still be in the neighborhood! It's frightening. But why would he or she stick around? Didn't they get what they wanted when they stabbed poor Alexi? His death, I mean." She frowned and her eyes clouded. I could see the wheels turning. "Or maybe they are after something more! Oh, damn!"

"What is it, Creme?"

"A few weeks ago Alexi brought a briefcase to my house and asked if I would store it for him. He said that it was just personal papers but that he didn't want to leave it in his own house as he travelled often and was afraid that his house might be burglarized. I agreed, and put it in the basement."

I started to respond, but caught sight of my watch. "Ohmygod!" I exclaimed. "I almost forgot to pick the boys up from preschool! I gotta run!" As I dragged Sparkle out of the door I called out, "Creme! Just sit tight! I'll be back later!" Glancing back, I didn't see any sign of the FGM.

[Old Dog Trey]

____________________

As usual, preschool pick-up was chaos. Cars were stacked up, waiting to get to the pick-up point and mothers were milling around waiting to get a word in edgewise with their little darlings' teachers. Kids were running, jumping, yelling and chasing each other in the explosion of energy that comes with release from the classroom. I managed to reel in those I thought were mine, buckled them into their car seats and headed home. I pulled into the driveway just as Hank arrived. "What are you doing home early?" I asked. He usually didn't turn up until suppertime.

"I managed to sneak out after my presentation," Hank responded. "I have to go back later, after I grab a bite. I'll probably have to babysit our clients this evening... take them out to dinner or something."

"I liked it better when you were a fireman," I commented. "It was a hazardous job, and the twenty-four hour shifts were the pits, but at least it was a regular schedule. And you had several consecutive days off every week. Now, however, you're always rushing off or coming home late. There may not be many falling, flaming timbers in your office, but otherwise - for me, at least - your corporate job is a pain in the ol' bew-tocks. I could use some help with crowd control around here. And this murder thing needs attention that, without your back-up, I'll have to spend on our three rodents." I gave Hank my best exasperated stare and stamped my foot.

Hank looked chagrined and replied, "I'm sorry hon. Look, these clients will be leaving tomorrow and I have some time off coming. Why don't I take a couple of weeks off? I'll be here to help out, and maybe we can even get a babysitter and go out, you know, like on a date. A nice dinner, a little vino, then maybe we could..." he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Sounds good," I answered, "but that doesn't fix the problem of your schedule. But maybe we can figure something out later. Wine, an expensive dinner at Chez Poulet... you sure know how to charm a girl. And afterward?" I wiggled my eyebrows back at him.

"That reminds me," interjected Mr. Wet Blanket. Perhaps you ought to think about changing your brand of birth control pills. I read in the Wall Street Journal that the one you use, Ova-Nix, has been found to sometime cause hallucinations if the user is stressed about something."

"You can't call me on a cellphone. I respond to stress." Those words rang in my ears.

[M. Dogg, poet laureate]
_______________________

But not for long. No. My fairy godmother was going to have to work a little harder if she wanted my attention. Before I could even begin to dismiss her words I heard wailing. Oh, brother. Where did Hank go? He had time to suggest some between the sheets action but convienently disappeared when chaos reigned. I ambled down the hall toward the kitchen to find Sparkle and the cat covered in five pounds of flour and a sprinkling of chocolate chips. In response to my withering glare the boys made noises about making cookies. I simply reached into the cabinet for a glass and a bottle of wine. Stress? What stress? Boo to you, my so-called Fairy God Mother, I thought.

Later that night, with Hank fed and gone and the kids tucked in bed, I started thinking more about Alexi and the few tidbits that Creme revealed. What had she said? Bulgarian state intelligence apparatus? Capitalizing on his professional skills and going into business for himself? What kind of business? These questions made my amatuer detective/meddler antennae tingle. I suspected something sinister was afoot and I needed to learn more about the dead man. As I sat there thinking in the unnatural silence of my home I remembered that Creme mentioned Alexi's briefcase. The briefcase! It must hold a clue or two!

I ran to the kitchen and slugged back two fingers of Hank's Wild Turkey to diffuse any stress that might arise in the near future, checked the kids, locked the door and ran across the street to Creme's house.

I pushed the doorbell several times but no one answered. This surprised me as Creme's house was lit up like a Christmas tree. Where the hell is she? I wondered. I raised my hand to pound on the door when suddenly the door swung open. My heart began to pound rather intensely. As I wondered what to do next I heard an eerie sound, the sound of someone saying "Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo..." I turned around slowly scared by what I might find.

"I told you that stress summoned me. This counts don't you think?" My fairy godmother winked at me. Oh, brother. I rolled my eyes. And then I remembered. Creme! Where was she and what was going on?

[Caroline]

__________________

I crossed the threshold and tiptoed to the living room. I peered in and immediately saw Creme sitting in a straight-back chair in the middle of the room. The first thing I noticed was that she was nude and that her arms and legs were firmly duct-taped to the chair. Almost immediately, a man in black clothing came into my field of vision. He was holding what looked like a butane fireplace lighter. His expression was grimly anticipatory. "Alright, Babykins," he said in a gutteral, heavily accented voice. "I think you will tell us everything we want to know in just a minute. In fact, I think you'll be singing a whole aria. We may have to shoot you to shut you up when we finish our little interrogation." He seemed to relish the prospect.

It must have been the Wild Turkey, but I was slow to pick up on the "we." Then it dawned on me that there must be more than one intruder in the house. Before I could act, I heard a voice behind me. "Do not move, or I will blast your pretty head off of your shoulders. Now, step into the living room." I didn't dare turn to see who was speaking, but he, too, sounded foreign.

As I entered the room, Creme rolled her eyes at me and croaked, "Daisy! Help!" Of course, I was in no position to do so. I didn't know how to respond. I think I muttered something clearly inadequate for the situation. The man who caught me turned me over to his accomplice and went into the kitchen for another chair; clearly he was going to truss me up as he had done Creme. The first man, in turn, pulled a pistol from his pocket and pointed it at me. His back was to the living room door.

Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice. "Daisy, hon, are you in here? Where are you? I saw you leave the house just as I came home. C'mon back to the house! I have my hands full! Sparkle has the heaves and...." Both my captor and I spun around. I wanted to tell Hank to run get help but I wasn't fast enough. He had blundered into the room and was only a couple of feet away, with Sparkle in his arms. The man in black reacted by raising his weapon.

Before the would-be torturer and assassin could react, however, Sparkle made an all-too-familiar sound. In a nanosecond I realized what was coming. With a gurgling roar, Sparkle threw up. And not just threw up. I mean she THREW UP! I'd never witnessed projectile vomiting before but I sure knew it when I saw it. Wow! The sour blast hit our captor in the face, covering his weapon and his chest in the process. Boy was it foul! The man acted reflexively, gagging and staggering back to get out of range. As he did so, his accomplice stepped into the room holding a chair from the breakfast nook. The two collided and both went down.

I didn't know I could move so fast. I grabbed a large objet d'arte from one of Creme's end tables and swung it with all my strength at the man with the gun. He had just begun to get off the floor when the heavy vase struck him in the head. He went down like a bag of rocks. Simultaneously, Hank had stepped forward and kicked the stranger's partner just above the ear. Neither showed any sign of consciousness. I turned to Hank and said, "Thanks, Sweetie. That wasn't exactly a typical rescue but it was a rescue nonetheless. I'm glad you showed up when you did! Holy cow!" Hank smiled a shaky smile. I continued, "Put Sparkle down a minute and help me wrap duct tape around these two guys. I don't know how long they'll be out." Hank started binding the unconscious strangers and I ducked into the kitchen for a knife. Then I went to to Creme and began to free her. As I peeled the tape off I glanced at Sparkle. She was an unhealthy greenish color. "You know, Hank," I said, "you'd better get Sparkle home quick. Projectile vomiting is often accompanied by explosive diarrhea." Then I asked, as much to myself as Hank, " What do you suppose made her sick?"

"She got into some left over cat food, I think, Hank answered. "Tender Morsels. Fancy Feast, maybe. Look, Hon, are you going to be OK?"

"As soon as Creme's had a chance to throw on a robe we'll call the police. These two are good for breaking and entering, aggravated assault, and false imprisonment at least. I don't think we'll see them again. We'll be OK."

At that moment ominous sounds of liquid under pressure began to emanate from Sparkle. "Oh, no!" Hank exclaimed and turned and sprinted for our house. As I watched his back draw away, I could hear him saying, "Lordy, Lordy, Lordy!"

Moments later, as Creme picked up the telephone to dial 911, I asked her, "What do you suppose those two bozos wanted?"

"The briefcase," she responded.

[Morton the Miracle Dog]

______________________

While Creme wandered into another room, relaying her story in grand detail to the 911 operator, I heard a sound behind me and a chill ran down my spine. Was there a third intruder? Crap! I scooped up a heavy candlestick and spun around ready to protect myself and Creme. I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized that I was not face-to-face with some foreign- tongued thug but my not so dearly beloved fairy godmother. It's a good thing that she stepped back when she did or I would have brained her but good.

I looked at my FG crossly and said, "Where the hell were you? When you first appeared you said to me, 'I've got your back!' So much for that!"

FG gazed back at me coolly and responded, "Who do you think made the tainted cat food available to Sparkle? That child gets into everything! I know it wasn't a conventional approach to fending off bad guys, but it got the job done, didn't it?"

At a loss for words I just stood there staring at my FG. If this was her version of "getting my back" I couldn't wait to see how she helped the next time, God forbid there was a next time.

[Caroline]

_______________________

"Who are you talking to?" Creme asked me. Shit. How long had she been standing there?

"I think this whole mess is making us all delusional," Creme added, before I could think of anything to say. "Here," she said, dragging me into the kitchen "let's have some chocolate while we wait for the cops."

Creme pulled out a 5 pound bag of dark chocolate M&Ms, a pan of double fudge brownies, a few chocolate bars and a wedge of cake. "Sorry there's not much cake left. I've been a little stressed," she said. As we sank into a couple of kitchen chairs and started popping M&Ms she glanced around the room and said, "you know, I think I need a change. What color do you think I should paint my kitchen? Despite all those tricycle motors you have running around your place, it always looks so nice. As you can see, I don't exactly have a knack for decorating."

I couldn't believe we were sitting here, eating chocolate and discussing Creme's lack of decorating skills while waiting for the cops. However, she did have a point. Her walls were horrible. It looked like Sparkle had been at them - with the front end or back, I wasn't sure.

Before I could comment, we heard a pounding at the front door.

[Susan]
__________________________________

The pounding took me aback. It was too soon for the cops to have arrived. After what Creme and I had just been through it didn't seem likely that it would be another thug (unless he'd been held up going through the drive-through at the Taco Cabana and had just now managed to get here) and what self-respecting crook would pound on the door? He'd just break in... wouldn't he? I tip-toed to the door and peeked out of one of the tall windows that flanked the door.

It was Hank. I opened the door and exclaimed, "Hank! What are you doing here? You should be at home with the kids! What about Sparkle? Is she still blowin' chow through both ends? She could become dehydrated! Maybe we need to take her to the clinic! She could lose too much potassium or something dangerous like that! Maybe we need to give her something with electrolytes in it! Maybe we need some kind of prescription stopper-upper! Maybe we need a lot more diapers! Maybe..."

Hank looked as if he'd just put in a 24 hour shift in a salt mine. He looked exhausted, dispirited and bedraggled. He looked like he had the mother of all hangovers. "Daisy!" he said. "You've got to come home! I need help! I thought I'd clean Sparkle up so I put her in the tub. But she wasn't through yet so she let go again. I've never seen such turbulence in a bathtub! I think her little innards have calmed down now, though, but before I could change the bathwater I heard a scream from the other bathroom. It was Harry. He's gotten his arm caught in the toilet. He said he was trying to retrieve his blankie which he'd tried to flush but then then realized it would be gone forever. He panicked and tried to grab the corner just as it was disappearing down the toilet. He got a tight grip on the corner, but the toilet now has a tight grip on him. I had to leave Harry to run back and check on Sparkle but as I passed the kitchen I heard a kind of a hissing sound and saw Harry's twin sibling spraying a liter bottle of Big Red at the cat. The cat disappeared into the living room. I don't know where it is, but we can probably find it by following the sticky red paw prints it left on the carpet and furniture. Somebody's going to have to bathe it and confine it to the laundry room to dry off." He winced. "I still have scars from the last cat bath! But there's no time for that right now, anyway. And there's an alarming smell coming from somewhere upstairs but I haven't had a moment to locate it."

My heart sank. What a disaster! As if being threatened by a couple of foreign, low life, leg breakers wasn't enough, now this! "OK, Hank," I answered. You run on home and I'll be there in a minute. I just want to do one thing before I leave."

"I'll wait for you," he answered. "I locked myself out of the house when I came over here. I'll need to hoist you through a window."

I wasn't capable of a coherent response. I only snorted. But, after a few deep breaths I was able to say, "Let me grab something." I ran back into the house, told Creme that I was leaving and to sit tight for the police, and asked her where Groshenko's briefcase was. After a few moments of desperate searching I found it where Creme had put it... in the basement in a space behind the furnace. I grabbed it and rushed out the front door. By God, I was going to find out what was so important about the damn thing once and for all, just as soon as everything at home had settled down and I had a chance to pour three fingers of Wild Turkey and go through it.

[Papacito]

____________________

As it turned out, I didn't have to wait for things to settle to discover the contents of the briefcase. After Hank shoved me through the kitchen window (thank goodness we haven't fixed the latch yet) I tumbled in, ran to the front door, threw it open and grabbed Hank and the briefcase and pulled them in.

In my panic over the kids and enthusiasm over the briefcase, I pulled a little too hard, backed up to regain my balance and completely lost it when I stepped on Harry's SuperDuper Grand Mega Loader Scraper Backhoe truck. The truck went flying, I went flying, the briefcase went flying and somehow, Hank managed to land with a thunk on top of me.

"How about a quick boink?" he asked.

"Looking to have another Sparkle?" I asked. "Or did you forget that's where she came from?"

Hank suddenly looked a little green and rolled off of me. I jumped up and ran over the the briefcase, which had fallen open when it crashed to the ground.

"Holy crap!" I said.

[Birthday Girl]
______________________

As a result of it's sudden contact with the kitchen floor, the contents of the briefcase were strewn about. I didn't know which was more startling to see...the folder entitled "Plans for World Domination" or the scores of lollipops. Before I could even begin to clean up the mess, I heard the pitter patter of little feet, two sets to be exact. I looked up to find my two young sons ogling the candy the way a teenage boy would a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model. In fact, they were drooling. There was nothing they liked better than lollipops.

Hank was nowhere to be seen and I wanted to get a quick look at the folder from the briefcase. What to do with the boys? The lollipops! I told Harry and Luke to take a couple of lollipops and go watch some t.v. After a few moments I checked to make sure that they were settled in front of Cars, a movie they had seen maybe 300 times already, and I returned to the kitchen.

I had just grabbed a Diet Dr. Pepper from the fridge and settled myself at the table when I heard that familiar wail. "MOOOOOOMMMMM!" I ignored it, hoping the problem would simply go away. Ha! Then I heard it again. I returned to the family room to find Harry in tears. "What happened?" I asked, trying to muster as much sympathy as I could given that I was dying to return to the kitchen and actually open and examine the folder.

Harry was pointing to his mouth. After a little motherly detecting I concluded that Harry, impatient to get to the next lollipop, had tried to chew on the lollipop instead of licking it. As a result he wound up with some very sore teeth. Upon closer inspection of the candy I realized that he had managed to crack the hard, sugary treat and reveal a glittery substance within. Curious, as most lollipops are solid or have a tootsie roll type center, I looked more closely. Hmmm!? "How odd," I said to myself.

After a lot of protesting I managed to extract the pops from the boys and substitute the treats with popcorn and m&ms and leave them to their movie. I took the candy back to the kitchen and started opening drawers looking for a hammer. I couldn't find a hammer but did manage to locate a meat tenderizer. I put a cutting board on the counter and laid the lollipop on top and gave it a good whack!

The candy cracked apart to reveal a large diamond! Knowing this was not some freak occurence but wanting to be sure anyway, I rounded up more of the candy and had at them with the tenderizer. Sure enough, each lollipop contained a large diamond. I stepped back, puzzled and more than a little alarmed. Groshenko, owner of the briefcase, was dead. Now I had it and it's contents. Obviously someone felt the contents were worth killing for.

"Hank!" I yelled, maybe a little hysterically. "Hank! Where are you? We need to talk!"

[Caroline]

___________________________

As I waited for Hank to come into the kitchen I went to the cabinet above the dishwasher and took out a bottle of Ronrico 151. I added a healthy slug to my diet Dr. Pepper. It occurred to me, too, that I could use a little sugar for energy... to get the old brain cells working in high gear... so I added some maple syrup. (Granular sugar would have caused the carbonated drink to fizz over.) I took a big slug. My taste buds went numb and my ears tingled. I felt as if my whole face puckered. My eyes teared up and the left one twitched a couple of times. It was possibly... no, not possibly but actually... the most startlingly wretched drink I'd ever concocted.

Just then, my other half, my knight in shining armor, the love of my life and co-parent in training, Hank, entered. "Er, yeah?" he asked in his customary suave, romantic and incisive manner, scratching his derriere. "You called, ma cheri?"

"Have a sip of my drink. It's really delicious!" My mouth felt as if I'd been to the dentist and the novocaine hadn't worn off yet. Hank must have noticed that my lips didn't move; he declined. "What are the kids doing?" I asked, hoping that we had time to talk about the contents of the briefcase.

"Sparkle is napping and the boys are in thrall to the 42 inch electronic brain washer, losing neurons even as we speak."

"Good. Look what I found in the briefcase. A fortune in diamonds, hidden inside lollipops (don't ask why they were inside lollipops... I haven't a clue) and what looks like a plan to do something really bad on an international scale. I'm glad the document's title is in English, 'cause the rest of it, including the schematics and notations to the engineering drawings, are in the cyrillic alphabet. What do you think? What do we do now?"

Hank stood, stunned, as he tried to get his mind around what I'd just told him. After he'd digested the situation for a few moments he responded. "OK, we eat the candy, sell the diamonds, tear up the document, and move to Hawaii."

"No, seriously."

"Well, I could call my buddy with whom I used to drink beer before I met you and fell hopelessly, madly, in love." Hank wiggled his eyebrows at me. "His name is Jack Armstrong, and he's with the FBI. I could put it to him as a hypothetical, you know, just for the sake of supposing, what would you do if you found a briefcase that used to belong to a murdered foreign guy and it was full of diamonds and had a document labeled, 'Plans for World Domination.'"

"He'd probably think you'd gone looney and that it was a crank call, or that you'd gotten stuck in some video game. Either way, he'd probably get off the line as quickly as he could hit the disconnect button."

"Maybe, but have you got a better idea?" Hank asked. "No? Then I think I'll give ol' Jack a call and see what happens."

[Rin Tin Tin]

___________________

Hank promptly sat down and dialed up his old buddy Jack while I went back to the briefcase and began to read the plans for world domination. Hmmmm… I thought to myself. This is just like a recipe.

I could hear Hank's end of the conversation. “Jack, it’s your old buddy, Hank. I know… it’s been too long since our last beer. You know how it is… you fall in love, have three kids and suddenly there’s no time for beer.”

I couldn’t hear Jack’s response but it was something that made my snuggle-bunny laugh.

Hank continued, “My bride has taken it upon herself to write a mystery novel, where she finds the time I don’t know, and she wanted to make it as realistic as possible. So I told her I would give you a call and get your input.” Again Hank laughed. That Jack must be a funny guy.

“Okay,” Hank said. “The story involves a housewife, three kids, a neighbor, a mysterious dead Russian and a briefcase full of lollipop covered diamonds and a document labeled “Plans for World Domination.” Where she comes up with this stuff I don’t know but if you have any suggestions as to who the villain should be my bride has promised she will let me out one night for that beer.”

This time there was no laughing from Hank. In fact, it seemed too quiet in the house. I stared at Hank as he listened intently on the phone. Was it possible Jack knew of the dead Russian? Hank thanked Jack and gently hung up the phone. He turned to me and said…

[Madly in Love]

______________________________

"Ummmm. Hon? We're in some deep doo-doo. Got any babysitters up your sleeve? Jack's on his way over. Turns out our dead guy isn't exactly who we thought. He's CIA."

"A babysitter? No, I don't have a babysitter! Who in their right mind would be willing to watch our three little terrors? Did you say CIA?"

[Snowgirl]
__________________________________

"Yeah, you know, the Crefflebagger Institution for Agoraphobics. Groshenko must have had an unnatural fear of open spaces. I guess he must've sought support and therapy by joining the Institute. Poor guy. Who'd a thought?

"Hank? Hank! Hello! Do you really think Groshenko was an agoraphobic, or does it seem more likely that your pal Armstrong had something else in mind, like the CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE AGENCY?"

"Oh, that CIA. Not usually what one thinks of when one hears those initials. It's the Crefflebagger that jumps to mind, after all. But I guess you could be right. Say our dead guy was an American undercover agent masquerading as a Bulgarian ex-spy working freelance as an international mercenary up-to-no-good-nik. Now what?"

"Now we wait for Jack. We'll see what he has to say. And now that I think of it, maybe I do have a possible babysitter, after all. She's my aerobics teacher. A large woman. Very fit. Used to be in the Navy Seals. Our workout class calls her Helga the Hammer. Does a little baby sitting on the side. I'll give her a call. I have the feeling we're going to want to give Mr. Armstrong our full attention when he arrives."

Fortunately, Helga was available on short notice and thirty minutes later the doorbell rang. It was The Hammer. As she entered the house, I was struck again by her physique. I could see her muscles bunch and relax with every movement. Her biceps threatened to rip the thin material of her sleeves and the legs of her sweatpants were taught across the thighs and calves. Her jaw muscles looked as if she could crush rocks in her teeth. She fixed me with a steely, level gaze and stuck out hand that, when I shook it, felt as if it were made of iron. "Hello, Daisy. Good to see you. Where are the little darlings?" Just then there was a scream from upstairs, followed by a crash. Before I could react, there was a hair-raising yowl and the cat burst down the stairs as if she'd been fired from a cannon.

I smiled at Helga. "I'll introduce you," I answered.

[DOD]

_______________________

It didn't take long for me to get Helga and the kids acquainted. My three babes looked a little shellshocked after meeting their "babysitter," in fact I don't think I'd ever seen them all so quiet at once. Even the cat was on it's best behavior. Given all that had happened over the course of the past few days (or has it been weeks?) at least I felt confident that my children were in good, safe hands. I waved good-bye and walked slowly down the stairs apprehensively. What could possibly happen next?

I arrived at the bottom of the stairs to find Hank and a man I had never seen before, who I quickly concluded must be Hank's FBI friend Jack Armstrong, talking in low tones. Hank saw me and motioned me over. "Daisy, hon, this is my friend, Jack. Jack, this is my wife, Daisy." With introductions out of the way we settled on the sofa and began to talk. I was a little anxious about telling our story to the FBI. Even though we weren't responsible for Alexi's demise, we did choose to move his body rather than immediately contacting the police. What possessed us to take such steps I don't recall but I do know that it was not standard behavior for upright citizens.

Trying to calm myself I stood up, fetched the bottle of Wild Turkey and poured myself a couple (okay maybe several) fingers, slammed the drink, wiped my mouth and told Jack everything. Jack, for his part, simply listened without comment or emotion.

"So, Jack, what can you tell us?" Hank asked speaking for the first time in a long while.

[Caroline]

___________________

Jack looked thoughtful, as if weighing his response. As we waited for him to say something it occurred to me that I was a little woozy. My ears buzzed as if I had just left a rock concert. I pondered the wisdom of having followed my diet Dr. Pepper laced with 151 proof rum and maple syrup with enough bourbon to fell an ox. Thank goodness I had declined Creme's offer of schnapps. I wanted to belch and began to giggle under my breath when I recalled how, when we were little, my brothers and I used to see who could recite the most letters of the alphabet with one belch: BrrA, rrB, rrtC, bruD, brrrD, urp!

Thinking of Creme made me wonder what happened at her house when the police showed up. Why hadn't they come here? After all, I was involved; it was Hank and I (and Sparkle) who had overcome the bad guys. Surely, they would want to question us. Why hadn't they? I needed to call Creme.

I snapped out of my reverie when Armstrong began to speak.

"Let me tell you a little bit about what I do," he began by way of a preamble. "As you know from watching television, the FBI is an organization of noble, clear-thinking, analytical, indefatigable, altruistic, patriotic, empathetic, uncannily intuitive stalwarts, with Star Wars technology readily available to meet our most fanciful needs twenty four hours a day. Or, alternatively, we're a bunch of scheming, underhanded, treacherous, self-serving, territorial, uncooperative, hostile, bureaucratic rats who like to step on local law enforcement. Well, TV is guilty of a bit of hyperbole and more than a little fabrication. After all, no-one wants to watch paint dry, right? Programs have to be exciting, with lots of action and characters you can root for or loathe. A little moral ambiguity never hurts, either, and stories that tug at the heartstrings are always a hit. Futuristic crime labs and improbable analytical feats like solving complex crimes with a few math formulas are big, too." Armstrong smiled an avuncular smile and shook his head at the thought. Then he continued, "We're really just a bunch of guys and gals who're slogging our way through the swamp. Me? Well, I'm in anti-terrorism unit. Our particular slog is to eradicate the threat of terrorism not only in this country but, in cooperation with the CIA (those out of control bastards), anywhere in the world. Terrorists know no borders, after all. As for the rest of it - truth or TV - I'll let you decide for yourselves what the FBI's like as you work with us to get to the bottom of this whole nasty Groshenko - or should I say Freddie Farnsworth, poor guy - affair."

"What do you mean, 'as you work with us...'" Hank interjected. "We just told you everything we know. End of story. Time to get back to what - for us, at least - is a normal existence. Hit the erase button and remove everything between finding the body and now. The monkey has been passed. He's now on your back where he belongs. None of this eez our yob. Thanks for stopping by, with the emphasis on the bye! Sayonara! Don't let the door hit you in the butt on your way out. Adieu. Adios. Auf wiedersehn.

Before Armstrong could speak again, I jumped in. "Whoa! Hang on! Hol-dit! Hank, I think we should listen to what Jack has to say. Go ahead, Jack."

[DOD, Ace of Spies]

______________________

"Well said, Hank!" Armstrong exclaimed. "Your rant had just the right amount of fervor and the level of volume you used was right on the mark. I must say, too, that the timbre of your voice and your body language were excellent. Kudos are in order, man. I'm afraid, though - however praiseworthy your heartfelt soliloquy may have been - we can not butt out. But before we continue with the case at hand," Armstrong went on, "forget Groshenko/Farnsworth for a moment and let me bounce something entirely different off of you. You're both intelligent, college-educated people." Hank and I waited expectantly. He continued, "Tell me, when did the word pants lose its s? I frequently hear sales people tell shoppers that 'this is a nice pant.' My father didn't wear the pant in the family! He wore pants! How does it sound to say that Mary chose to wear a pant instead of a skirt? Did Daniel Boone wear a buckskin pant? Would one say of an important person, 'he may be the Director but he puts his pant on one leg at a time just like everybody else?'" He began to look agitated. "And," he asked in a rush, "where does the Sunglass Hut get off dropping the es from the end of sunglasses? I wouldn't want to buy a sunglass! By God, I want a pair of sunglasses! Frames with two lenses! I don't want a tinted monocle!" Armstrong relaxed a bit. "I know that English is an evolving language. That it must be flexible to keep up with technological, political and societal changes. That neologisms are an essential part of a robust idiom. But I must say that some words just seem to be a stupidfication (oops! did I just make that up?) of our mother tongue. It makes me weep. What do you two think?" He looked at us expectantly.

"I think," responded Hank, "that it's a concern that occupies a lot of your brain cells THAT COULD BE BETTER SPENT ON FIGURING OUT WHAT TO DO ABOUT ALL THIS GROSHENKO STUFF!"

Armstrong looked a bit crestfallen. "You, too, Daisy?"

I nodded, but then, to make him feel better, said encouragingly, "But I'll bet 'stupidfication' will be in the OED in no time."

"Crum!" he exclaimed, obviously fighting his disappointment. Then, returning to business he said, "OK, here's what we know about the shadowy group that committed the murder of a CIA agent and the role we want you - no, insist - that you play in bringing the organization down."

We waited with bated breath for him to continue.

[Weird Dog]

_____________________________

"First, though, I really need a drink of water. This is going to take a while and my throat does tend to get a little dry."

[Blocked]
______________________________

Armstrong looked a little bit vexed at the interruption, but he said, "OK. Sorry to have rambled on so... I tend to dry people out a bit. My shrink says that a session with me is like a trek across the Atacama. Please, go ahead. I'll wait.

As I entered the kitchen, preoccupied with speculation about what the FBI might require of us, there was a blood-chilling scream from upstairs. Now, I've pretty much become immune to childish screams, but this was different! It was an adult scream! What the hell? It was Helga! I raced up the stairs!

As soon as I entered Harry and Luke's room I saw The Hammer, backed up against the far corner, eyes wide, trembling like a leaf. "Get it away from me!" she stammered. She gestured at the floor at her feet. I looked down. Sure enough, there was Ambrose. Apparently, one of the boys had taken him out of the terrarium and he'd gotten away, only to reappear at Helga's feet. I'll admit that tarantulas aren't everyone's cup of tea, but Ambrose was awesome. He was a dark red color with black bands around his legs. He was large for a Salvadoran tarantula and the stiff hair that covered his body made him look even bigger. He was a sweetheart, but his prominent fangs did give him a truculent look. The kids were crazy about him.

"Helga!" I exclaimed. "Are you all right? My goodness, it's only a spider!" I glared at the boys, who were just visible, hiding under the bunk beds. They couldn't contain themselves and had begun to giggle. I scooped Ambrose up, dropped him back into the terrarium, and secured the top. "Golly," I went on. "I'm sorry about the scare but it was only the kids' pet crawly. I wouldn't think someone like you, who takes 'buff' to a whole new dimension, would be afraid of a little spider! But not to worry. He's back in his house."

Helga was still trembling. "I'm arachnophobic!" she said. "I can't stand spiders! I can't stay here! I have to go!" She stumbled toward the door.

"But, Helga!" I began.

"But Helga, nothing!" she interrupted. "I'm out of here. Now! Sorry. I have to go. Goodbye Daisy." And with that she was gone, leaving me with the boys and a sleeping Sparkle to compete for my attention just when Hank and I needed to focus on whatever life-altering plan Jack Armstrong had up his sleeve. Ca-rap!

I dragged my little darlings out from under the bunk beds and sat them down in front of the TV. I flipped through the channels. Gray's Anatomy? No. The characters were all a bunch of whining fornicators. Desperate Housewives? No. The characters were all a bunch of scheming, backstabbing fornicators. Sex and the City? No. The characters were all a bunch of fashion-happy fornicators. I sighed. I decided that the number of brain cells the boys might lose from watching Cars for the fortieth or fiftieth time was a minimal penalty for them to pay compared to the risk of any psychological damage that might be inflicted by watching so much teleboinking, so Cars it was. "Stay put!" I commanded, and went back downstairs.

I guess Armstrong and Hank had gotten tired of waiting for me because as I entered the living room I heard Hank exclaim, "You want to use us bait to lure the bad guys out of the shadows?We're supposed to be, like, a Trojan Horse? You want them to turn up HERE to retrieve the briefcase so you can nab them? Do you think I just fell off of the turnip truck? I have a family! Kids! Daisy! We can't take the risk! That's just nuts! It's too much to ask!"

Hank and Armstrong looked up when I came in, unaware that I had heard Hank's outburst. "Daze!" Hank exclaimed. "I'm glad you're back! You won't believe what Jack here just proposed!"

[The Crazed Canine]

_____________________

"Actually, I heard. You have GOT to be kidding me. Have I fallen into an episode of Numbers or something?" I asked Armstrong.

He gave a self-conscious chuckle and said, "No. This is real life. I wasn't kidding. I know it's a little extreme. We don't usually use civilians as bait. But we're really short-handed right now. Most of our agents are tied up in Chicago busting the Illinois governor."

[Resident of the Corrupt State]
______________________

"As a matter of fact," he went on, "there are several things going on here.  First, the genie is already out of the bottle when it comes to the people we're trying to catch.  If they don't already know that you have the briefcase they'll figure it out soon enough.  After all, Freddie, alias Groshenko, had it.  They killed him to get it back but he'd already passed it to Creme Brulee.  When they discovered that he'd been seeing her they turned up at her house to get it.  You walked in just in time to foil that effort, but now they know who you are.  QED.  I don't know when they'll turn up, but turn up they will."

"Who's going to turn up?" I asked.  "The cops arrested those two rats who were at Creme's, didn't they?  And by the way, why didn't the police come over here to interview us?"

"We think your visitors will be the man who's been pulling the strings and his most trusted assassin .  His two worker ants are in the slammer.  He doesn't have time to import more muscle so he'll have to do the job himself.  Once we have him it'll be over... at least as far as you're concerned.  Then you can resume your life of domestic chaos.  Oh, yes... and the reason the police didn't follow up with you and Hank is because we asked them to leave it to us as that incident was part of an ongoing federal investigation."

"What is this all about, anyway?"

"Now that we've arrested the governor I can tell you that he was part of the conspiracy.  He was on the bad guys' payroll.  He wasn't in it for any ideological reasons... it was strictly the money.  He was willing to do anything for the dough: selling political favors, taking kickbacks from state contracts, accepting bribes.  And in this case, it was going to be a briefcase full of candy coated diamonds in return for protection for an unscrupulous gang that planned to import illegal aliens, drugs, and antique French Twinkies.

"What about the plan for world domination?"

"World domination was just a bonus.  A fall-back in case the other thing didn't work out."

Hank and I shook our heads in amazement.  "Who'd a thought!" we exclaimed in unison. 

"OK, I guess we have no choice but to wait.  But who's going to protect us?  You?" I asked Armstrong.

"Well," he smiled, you already have one of our best people on the job.  She's undercover as an aerobics instructor and baby sitter.  You hired her!  Her name is Helga."

"You mean Helga?  As in no longer here Helga?  As in afraid of spiders Helga?  As in cut and run Helga?"  I didn't feel so good.

[Lassie's smarter brother Lars]

____________________________    

Apparently Jack didn't feel too good either.  He paled a bit when he heard about Helga.  I sensed there was a problem.

"So what?" I said.  "Why don't you just put in a call and get someone else to protect us?  That's what they do on t.v.  Wait a minute!  Why don't you just protect us?"

Jack swallowed and said sheepishly, "I can't protect you.  They won't even let me carry a gun. There is some wacky section in the FBI code that says that if you fail the situp test while you are in the academy you are unfit for field work which requires gun-toting.  See, I am here really as more of a messenger of the Bureau.  As for getting someone else there is no one else.  The Bureau put all remaining local agents on the situation with the governor.  You'd think there would be a lot of us, but the economy coupled with the low wages and placements in areas with high costs of living has taken a toll on the agents and many of us have left in search of other careers."

Hank and I looked at each other not knowing what to say.  This nut wanted us to put our lives and those of our children on the line without protection.  Hank opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out.  Instead, his eyes grew wide and fear etched itself on his handsome features.  Jack and I simultaneously turned to see what got Hank's attention.  To my horror I saw two heavily armed men standing just inside the front door.  

The two men looked liked a pair of bad guys straight from a weekly crime show on television. The one on the left was tall and distinguished looking.  He had thick, wavy hair, dark with a touch of gray at the temples.  He wore a camel colored cashmere coat over an Armani suit.  It was obvious that he was a man who liked the finer things in life.  He was smooth shaven andhis skin looked accustomed to regular exfoliation treatments.  His right hand, the one holding the gleaming gun, showed nicely manicured nails.  The guy on the right was clearly the guy that did the dirty work.  I could tell this not from his lack of style or attention to personal hygiene but rather from the array of weapons he had either in hand or strapped to his body.  This guy was serious. 

I was taking all this in when cashmere guy said, "Where is the briefcase?"  

If I learned nothing else from watching t.v. I at least knew that if you gave up the object of desire the bad guys would kill the good guys no matter what they said.  I decided that the best option was to stall as long as possible especially since I wasn't getting any help from Hank or Jack.

"Briefcase?  What briefcase?"  I responded innocently.  "Oh, and by the way, we have a no shoes in the house rule.  Would you and your, uh, friend, please remove your shoes?"

Cashmere and his assasinating cohort complied.  "Daisy," Cashmere said calmly.  "May I call you Daisy?"

I nodded and plastered on what I hoped was my most winning smile.

Cashmere man continued, "Daisy, my dear, don't waste my time.  I know you have the briefcase. You saw what happened to  Freddie.  Now if you don't want that to happen to your precious little rugrats upstairs I suggest that you hand over the brief case now."

Hearing the man refer to my children filled me with fear.  I would do anything to protect my children.  Not knowing what to do next I indicated that the sock-footed seekers of diamonds and domination follow me.  "Okay, you win.  You can have the briefcase."  

I walked toward the playroom with the two bad guys behind me.  As I did I looked back at Hank, who seemed to have gone unnoticed by our visitors.  I had no idea what happened to Jack, the guy who helped suck us further into this mess.  I gave Hank a look hoping he would interpret it correctly.

"Okay, gentlemen, the briefcase is in here."  I swung open the door and ushered them inside. Immediately I heard a loud wail and a simultaneous expression of disgust.  I flipped on the light to see that Cashmere had stepped on a pile of little Legos, the bane of my existence, much to his misery.  He was hopping around and whimpering.  At the same time the assasinator was mucking around trying to wipe of his socked feet.  Apparently the cat had gotten into something again and barfed its little brains out in a big, glorious pile on the playroom floor.  In the mayhem both men had dropped their assorted weapons.  As I was accustomed to removing objects that could cause death and dismemberment (okay, more like choking, cutting or stabbing hazards, but hazards all the same), I grabbed the weapons off the floor and out of reach of our visitors.

Just as the men seemed to recover I took a deep breath and yelled, "Kids, Santa Claus is here." Fortunately, my children are young, have no sense of date and LOVE Christmas.  That's all it took.  Suddenly, I heard wild pounding as the boys ran from their room, down the stairs toward the playroom.  They came around the corner, through the door and literally bowled over the two unsuspecting men.  "Boys," I explained, "Santa and his elf are in disguise since it's not quite Christmas, but I know they have something for you in their pockets.  Probably lollipops." Furiously, the boys began frisking Cashmere and his cohort looking for the candy (I silently prayed they hadn't stashed more weapons in their coat pockets).  The men swatted at the children but that just seemed to motivate them further. 

 A moment later Hank walked in holding Sparkle, a puzzled look on his face.  "Hon," he said.  "I think Sparkle has gotten into the cat food again.  I hear odd bubbling sounds coming from her tummy."  

As I was standing behind the men I said, "Hank, hand her to me."  Just as he was extending his hands toward me so that I could take her, Sparkle made a strange sound.  Hank tipped her down slightly and Sparkle, with perfect timing, projectile vomited all over our guests just as Ambrose, the tarantula, began crawling up Assasinator's leg.  I don't know if the howling was due more to the vomiting or the spider but it was quite the racket.

Ten seconds later the playroom was filled with FBI agents, SWAT dudes and assorted law enforcement personnel, all of whom had guns drawn and focused on Cashmere and Assasinator. (I learned later that Jack had slipped away just after our guests had arrived and used his cell phone to round up the troops.)  The law enforcement folkds didn't have much to do, however, since the two men practically begged to be taken into the safety of custody and promised to make full confessions if they could just get away from my house and family.  

[Snowbound in Oregon]

____________________________

It was late afternoon.  The excitement had abated and I was enjoying a rare moment of peace and quiet.  The boys were parked in front of the TV, playing trains while waiting for a cable channel to show Shrek (they especially like the scene where the princess sings a duet with a pretty bird and she sings so badly that the bird explodes like a crystal goblet) and Sparkle was in her crib.  The cat was confined to the laundry room and Ambrose was in his terrarium.  Hank was at the grocery, picking up a few things for supper.  I decided to just sit down, have a Negra Modelo, put my feet up, and enjoy the silence.

I took a pull on the chilled brown bottle and savored the rich taste of the amber beer.  As I did, I heard the sound of static and caught a slight flash of blue light out of the corner of my eye.  "Guess who?" said the fairy godmother/godlama/goddammit.  "I'm glad you made it through that little rough patch.  And you did it without my help!  I'm proud of you, Babe!"

"You want a beer?" I asked.

"Don't mind if I do," she answered.  I popped another cap and we sat down together.  

I had gotten used to seeing the fairy godmother, and she did seem to have good intentions even though she picked the darndest times to turn up.  But it made me nervous that I had seen her at all.  Was I drinking too much?  (Naw, I pour a lot of drinks but with all of the mayhem and rioting that goes on around here very few of them actually make it past my teeth.)  Was I going a bit nutso?  I was worried, so I asked.  "You're a figment of my imagination, right?  How come I keep seeing you?  Am I OK?"

The FG knocked back a big slug of cerveza and answered, "You're OK.  I usually show up in response to stress, and with all that goes on around here I thought you might need a hand.  But clearly you don't, so when I finish this brewski I'll be off.  Nice to know you, by the way."

"No hard feelings, but I hope nothing happens to bring you back."

"No, everything's back to normal.  The TV people will be here tomorrow.  They want to tape a show called Survivor-Elmhurst.  And you know those bushes around the house that you tore out?  It turns out that they were a rare, endangered species of North American Bare-limbed Juniper.  They're supposed to look dead.  Anyway, the Sierra Club is planning to picket your house.  Oh, and by the way, Harry's blankie made it all the way into the sewer line, so somebody (Hank, perhaps?) is going to have to did up the front yard to get to the pipe and extract it.  Otherwise, none of your fixtures will drain.  Lessee... anything else?  Well, Hank ran into Chef Curtis (The Take Home Chef) from the Food Channel at the store.  He'll be here in half an hour to fix a gourmet supper, but wouldn't you know?  The kitchen power went out again.  It's black as  a mine in there.  So, really, it's just business as usual around here.  No need for me."

"Is that all?" I asked, thinking about fortifying my beer with a little Ronrico or Wild Turkey.

"Yeah, except for the animal control folks who want to talk to you about the proliferation of squirrels that live in your pumpkin patch.  The neighbors all have squirrels in their attics now."

"You know what?" I said to the fairy godperson.  "That's all a piece of cake.  Nothing I can't handle."  I felt good.  I started to hum a happy tune.  "Thanks for the tip.  See you around.  Not.  Have a good trip to someone else's life."

And with that the fairy godmother disappeared.  I wiggled my toes and had just put my feet back on the floor to go get another beer when I heard a call from upstairs.  "Mom!  Mom?  Mom!"  Ah, everything indeed was as it should be.

                                                                  FINIS

[DOD]

____________________

   

The Green Knight

Geoffrey looked across the meadow at the castle. The weather was clear and warm and the only sounds he could hear were occasional bird calls. The still scene belied the usual noisy activity within the castle walls. The hollow clop of horses' hooves on the stone courtyard floor, the ring of weapons and the shouts of the knights as they demanded their mounts, the clang of the blacksmith's hammer, the neighing, braying, roiling din that was part of daily life at the castle. He had taken advantage, as he sometime did, of a slight lull in activity and a moment of inattention by his master, to get away for a brief respite and enjoy what little solitude he could. In a short while he would be back in the stables, feeding, grooming and cleaning up after the horses. It seemed to him that he had never done anything else. He had no recollection of his past. His conscious memory began with his servitude at the castle.

Geoffrey had learned that it did no good to ask questions of his master. The only response he had received was silence or a cuff to the ear. He was a stable boy, he was told, and as such had no business asking questions. His job was the animals and, if addressed by a nobleman, to look at the ground, tug at his forelock and comply with whatever was demanded as quickly as possible. Nevertheless, he was alert to what went on around him and he listened intently to the conversations of others. He was aware that the country was in political turmoil, and that it seemed to always have been so.

Richard, Coeur de Leon, had recently become king. He and his brothers had had a contentious relationship with their father. Ever since they were old enough to hatch a plot they had schemed against their father, Henry II, sometimes in concert, sometimes alone. In the end, they turned on each other. Things settled down somewhat when Henry, the heir, died, and three years later his brother Geoffrey passed away leaving only Richard and John. Richard was older than John, so he was the logical successor. And, unlike his brother, he was greatly admired for his military prowess. Although he spoke little English and was an ignorant man, at least in comparison with his father who was fluent in half a dozen languages, and was accomplished in the law, he was an able soldier and a popular leader in the wars to reclaim the Holy Land from the Muslims.

Richard's father, Henry II, was the son of Matilda, whose father in turn was Henry I, son of William the Conqueror. She was prevented from taking the throne by Stephen, who usurped power. Thus began a long civil war between Matilda and Stephen. Although Matilda finally gave up the fight and retired to France, a few years later her son Henry invaded England and won the right to succeed Stephen. Two years later he became Henry II. Thus there had been armed conflict going on somewhere in the kingdom for generations.

The sun had only moved a few degrees across the sky when Geoffrey returned. As he passed through the portcullis he noticed that while he was absent a sign had been nailed to a timber where it could be read by all who left the castle. It was written in English and French. As his master approached, Geoffrey read it out loud. It was a warning to avoid the forest unless one went with an armed escort. Bands of thieves had made the passage dangerous. Upon hearing him read the notice, his master exclaimed, "Where did you learn to read? Common folk can't read! Only the high-born learn to do so!" He shook his head and when he received no answer scolded the younger man for his absence. With a kick for emphasis, he demanded, "Get back to the stable! The stalls need mucking out!"

[Lord Dogg, Earl of the Western Marches]

______________________________

As Geoffrey headed back to the stables as commanded, behind him he heard a curse, a splash and then more cursing. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw that his master had fallen into a puddle and was now sitting in it like a pig covered in muck although not smiling as a pig might. Geoffrey couldn't help but allow himself a private smile as he scurried back to the stable.

As he picked up the pitchfork to clean out the stables, Geoffrey found himself wondering how it was that he could read if reading was something taught only to those who were high-born. Who taught him to read? He shook his head. It was so strange that he couldn't recall any details of his early life before enslavement to this unkind master. Based on the way his master reacted, clearly he should keep this ability to himself. Who knows, it might come in handy. No sooner than this thought crossed Geoffrey's mind did the trumpets herald the arrival of the king. Apparently Richard, the absent king, had returned home to England. Everyone in the stable ran outside and bowed before the king. Geoffrey listened closely as Richard spoke in French to one of his officials.
[Princess Wannabe]
________________________

"Help me down from this horse," King Richard said to his right-hand man, Sir Mordred. "I feel as if I've ridden all the way from the Holy Land." Sir Mordred extended his hand to the king, who swung his leg over the back of his saddle in preparation for dismounting. Somehow, the king lost his balance and - despite the best efforts of Sir Mordred - toppled off his mount. His full weight, augmented by his heavy tunic of chain mail, landed on Sir Mordred who fell to the ground. Fortunately, the king somehow managed to remain upright and ended his misadventure standing on the castle courtyard astride his would-be helper.

At that moment, the lord of the castle - Lord Thomas - strode out of the castle in response to news of the king's arrival. As he did so, he saw King Richard atop Sir Mordred and blurted out, "My liege! What brings you to my humble castle on a knight like this?"

Geoffrey thought he saw something pass behind the king's eyes as Richard's right hand suddenly reached for the hilt of his sword. Then the moment passed and he smiled.

"Lord Thomas! I see that your sense of humor continues unabated. I must impose upon your hospitality until tomorrow, when I continue my journey to London. I've returned to England because of the mischief my brother John has been up to. It seems that he fancys himself monarch and would take my crown in my absence. My fight against the Saracens is costly enough, as is the administration of my French possessions. It is an inordinate aggravation to have to cross that turbulent Channel to deal with a gang of miscreants on this restless island, thereby wasting resources that could be better spent elsewhere."

[Hondo the Minstrel Dog]

_______________________

As the king started to move toward the door of the great hall, he glanced toward his left. His gaze swept across the various and sundry onlookers. As he did so, most of the peasants, serfs and craftsmen who worked at the castle jerked their hats from their heads and looked down. Geoffrey, however, was slow to do so and as Richard's eyes moved across the crowd they stopped reflexively when they noted the upturned face. The king focused his gaze, then appeared startled. There was a flash of what could have been recognition but there was no further reaction on the part of the king. It happened so quickly no one noticed, save Geoffrey. With scarcely a pause, Richard turned away, waived his retinue forward, and strode toward the door.

Inside the great hall Lord Thomas' staff was feverishly at work preparing for a feast. No-one had been expecting a royal visitor but it wasn't the first time the servants had been called upon to accomplish an impromptu miracle. As tables were being prepared, fresh rushes were being strewn across the floor, a fire was being lighted in the immense fireplace and Lord Thomas' new tapestry was being hung, itinerant minstrels tuned their psalteries and began to practice a song that one of them had written for just such an occasion.

"A king's life

Isn't an easy one,

With plots to thwart

And wars to be won!

The Turks are a bitch,

And Brother John is no fun!

A king's life

Isn't an easy one.

Hey nonny nonny tra la la.

Oh, there's no denying

The job has its perks,

But there's no telling

Where the next problem lurks.

'Specially when

You're surrounded by jerks!

(And did we say

What we think of the Turks?)

Hey nonny nonny tra la la.

A king's life

Is no bed of roses!

There's much more danger

Than one supposes!

Keep your enemies close

(Better count noses!)

And woe is you

If your bodyguard dozes!

Hey nonny nonny tra la la.

La Belle France

Is where I rather would be.

And not on this island

Across the sea!

Aggravation's the game,

As you clearly can see.

Oh, a king's life

Is clearly no breeze!

Hey nonny nonny tra la la."

[Hondo the Minstrel Dog, Junior]

_________________________
As the king wandered into the great hall, the aroma of the great feast wafting through the air, he couldn't help but bop his head along to the beat of the music played by the minstrels. Had he known what a cellphone was and had one, certainly this would be his ringtone. Though being king was clearly no breeze it certainly had its perks, the minstrels were right on that note. He ate the best food, had wenches at his disposal and the country bowed in his presence. Of course, he also had to watch his back and truly trusted no one. Being king was a little lonely. But kings didn't dwell on such things. Although he longed for the approval of his father which he never got and his anger smoldered over his father putting his mother, Eleanor, in jail because she supported her sons' revolt against Henry II, he channeled his energies into his military strategies and worked out his issues on the battlefield against his unfortunate enemies.

As Richard took a seat at the head of the table, his mind wandered to the young man he saw outside the stable. Darned if he didn't look familiar. Had Richard spent more time looking in a mirror he might have thought he was looking a young version of himself. His musings about this young man were quickly dismissed when the large turkey leg was set before him. After dinner, he and Sir Mordred would talk strategy for managing John.
[Princess Wannabe]
___________________

While Richard munched on a leg of turkey and endured the antics of the court jester, his thoughts wandered back to the stable hand he had seen outside. He was sure that he had seen that young man somewhere before but where he did not know.

Unbeknownst to Richard, Geoffrey, the stable boy, was Richard's illegitimate son. Eighteen years ago, when Richard was but a young man, he had fallen for a beautiful, but common, maiden, Catherine. Though she was his true love, Richard knew that his father, King Henry II, would never tolerate a union between his son, the prince, and a lowly maiden. So, when it came to making a choice between true love and his place in history, Richard chose the latter. He left his love never knowing she was carrying his child.

Richard's brother, John, knew of his sibling's secret love, Catherine, and was himself smitten by her. When Richard left, John took advantage of Catherine's sorrow and soon took on the role of lover. Months later it was evident that Catherine was with child, his child, or so John thought. Though John wouldn't claim the child as his own, he made sure that the child, a boy named Geoffrey, would be raised with nobility.

As the years went on and Geoffrey grew older, John had a sneaking suspicion that Geoffrey was not his own child, but that of his brother Richard. He saw the resemblance in Geoffrey's eyes, his chin, his smile. Though John was angry that he had been led to believe that Geoffrey was his child, he had no outlet for that anger. The boy didn't know the identity of his real parents and Catherine had died during childbirth. But John wasn't just angry at the deception, he feared that if Richard learned he had a son John would have no chance at one day becoming king.

At that moment John decided to have Geoffrey killed. He had arranged for one of the local miscreants to do the deed. Little did he know that said miscreant, a unprincipled but weak-stomached lad, managed only to knock Geoffrey unconscious in his effort to take the boy's life with a large stone (rather than the knife he had been given). When Geoffrey came to, he had no idea who or where he was. He wandered aimlessly until he arrived at the castle's stable and encountered the stable master. The stable master, a rough-edged, cold-hearted man, took Geoffrey in, not out of pity but rather need. The upkeep of the stables was a great deal of work and one of his stable boys had just been kicked in the head by a horse and was of no use to him any longer.

(Princess Enilorac)

_________________

Richard was aware that he was feasting on a rare delicacy. The American bird that came to be known as turkey was introduced to Europe by the Spanish conquistadors some three hundred years after Richard's death. It was a favorite food of the Aztecs, among other Mexican tribes, and was hunted by the Indians of North America as well. However, long before Columbus found the Americas and the Spanish followed in search of gold, the Scandinavians had discovered the New World. Although their attempts at a permanent colony failed, the Danes had made a number of excursions to the northeastern shores of North America. One of these intrepid explorers, Thorwald Ironhat, also known to some as Badbreath, was successful in capturing the elusive avian and returning to his homeland with a small number of them for breeding purposes. All died, save one male and one female which King Olaf gave to King Richard as a diplomatic gift when they met at a papal conference in Rome. They remained in the possession of the English court until Richard returned to England from his captivity in Germany following his last Crusade. Here at the castle of Lord Thomas, thanks to the shortsightedness of the staff, the turkeys were served to the king for dinner. Thus, Europe would have to wait many more generations before the Spanish brought the succulent bird to the continent.

The activities in the castle were far from Geoffrey's mind. Not long after it had become dark he had gone to the empty stall he occupied at the forbearance of the stable master, covered himself with his ragged cloak, and gone to sleep. Much later, he awoke. There were no longer any sounds from the great hall. The only thing he could hear was the occasional snort of a horse or the rustle of the hay under their hooves as they shifted their weight. What had wakened him? He remained still and listened. Then he heard it. The sound of a footfall. Who could be about in the stable in the middle of the night? A dark figure appeared in the door to the stall. "Who's there? What do you want?" Geoffrey asked. Suddenly the figure entered the stall and sprang to Geoffrey's side, at the same time clamping a rough hand over his mouth.

"Be quiet," the stranger growled into Geoffrey's ear. "You must be silent so that no one will hear us." Geoffrey tried to pull away. "Enough!" the man said. "Be quiet! I've come from the king. He has commanded that I bring you to him."

Geoffrey's mind raced. He tried to ask what was happening, why the king wanted to see him. Had he done something to offend the monarch? No, if he had he would be disciplined by the stable master or one of the king's retinue, not the king himself. Still, the king's command worried him. Why was he singled out? Was his life in jeopardy? But the stranger refused to communicate. He either didn't know or didn't care and in any event he insisted on silence.

The journey from the stable took a considerable amount of time as Geoffrey's escort demanded stealth. Finally, however, they stood before the door to the king's chamber. A faint light escaped under the door. The messenger knocked and in response to a low voice opened the portal and propelled Geoffrey into the chamber, banging the door closed behind him.

[Sir Hound]

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Geoffrey stood inside the door, his knees knocking slightly but confident in his innocence. He bowed humbly before the king.

"Your majesty," he said. "To what I do I owe the honor of being summoned to your presence?"

Richard couldn't take his eyes off the young man. He seemed so familiar. As Richard paced the room, he happened to glance in a mirror and was startled. It was like looking at Geoffrey. But there was something else. What was it? And did no one else see this similarity? How could this be?

"Geoffrey, where do you come from?" Richard inquired.

Geoffrey spoke honestly and earnestly. "Sir, I know nothing of where I come. It seems this place is all that I can remember. It is odd because I can read and I can understand both French and English. But I have no recollection of ever being taught these things."

Richard pondered these details as he looked at Geoffrey again. That familiarity. It wasn't just his own features but also Catherine he saw in Geoffrey's eyes! He started doing the math, a little awkwardly since he was an ignorant man, and concluded that this must be the son that Catherine bore and John claimed as his own. Since family get togethers weren't exactly occasions for merriment, it had been years since Richard had seen the boy. Clearly this wasn't John's son but his! If Geoffrey was his son, his life would be in danger since John was set on becoming king upon Richard's demise. But how did he get away from John and why wasn't John looking for him?

When Richard stopped pacing and musing he turned to Geoffrey but saw that he had fallen asleep. Oh well, he thought. Better get some shut-eye and deal with this tomorrow. He left Geoffrey sleeping on the floor as he crawled into his feather bed and blew out the light.

[Princess Wannabe]

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Suddenly, the king sprang to his feet. How had Geoffrey fallen asleep? After all, he was dragged from the stable for a meeting with the king in the middle of the night. He must have been confused and frightened, not to mention curious... states of mind that were hardly conducive to falling asleep. Was there something wrong with the young man? Did he have some kind of condition that caused him to fall unconscious at critical moments? How could he do that, in front of his king to whom he owed not only his rapt attention but total subservience and even his life? Besides, their discussion couldn't wait until daylight. He had brought the stable boy to his chambers in the deepest part of the night in order that their meeting be unobserved. "Wait until morning, my royal ass!" Richard roared as he gave the sleeping form a kick. "On your feet, or I'll have your guts for garters!"

Geoffrey leapt up, intimidated by the king's rage and chagrined at having fallen asleep. He mumbled his apology and secretly wished that he were somewhere else. Anywhere else. He stood, frozen in place as the king paced back and forth. After a few moments (that seemed to Geoffrey to be hours) the king stopped pacing and, his anger seemingly abated, turned toward the younger man. As Geoffrey stood silent, hat in hand, Richard explained what he thought to be the stable boy's origins. He didn't know about John's attempt on his life, but he had observed the scar on Geoffrey's scalp and knew that a blow to the head could sometimes cause memory loss. The king correctly guessed that to be the cause of his amnesia.

"It is not just for you to remain in a state of servitude," Richard told Geoffrey. "Therefore I will see to it that you are given your due. The allowance, estate and servants that John had given you will be returned. You will be known as Geoffrey Fitzroy (son of the king), however as you know, as the product of my morganatic liason with your mother, Catherine, you have no claim on the throne. However, even though you cannot be considered a Plantagenet I feel that it is incumbent upon me to see that you are not only treated with respect but also accepted as a member of the nobility."

"Er, uh," Geoffrey stammered. He had a hard time digesting all that the king had said. "Thank you, sir. I don't know how to respond. To discover that I'm more than I have been for the past few years is overwhelming."

"For your sake," the king went on, "I think it best that none of this be made public until I get my hands on... er, I mean until I've met with my brother... and I straighten him out. Once I've done so you will be free of any possible danger and can live openly."

"Shall I return to the stable, then?" asked Geoffrey.

"No," Richard responded. "Until then I have a task for you. Although your memory is impaired I'm sure that the skills you learned when you became a knight will return soon enough, once you've had an opportunity to exercise them. I want you to go on a quest."

"A quest?"

"At my behest. A quest."

"Wow! A quest is the best!"

"Then be my guest."

"You don't jest?"

"Look! Don't be a pest! Just go on the damn quest!"

"Is this a test?"

"Yes. Now, let me tell you the rest." With that, the king paused, strode to the door, and made sure it was securely bolted. He lowered his voice and said, "I want you to find, and bring to me, the Holy Moley."

[Le Chien d'or]

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Geoffrey whispered reverently, "The Holy Moly.... what's the Holy Moly?"

Richard led Geoffrey over to the fireplace, sat down and said, "Let me tell you the legend of the Holy Moly."

Geoffrey sat at the foot of the king while the fire danced in the background. He closed his eyes and listened to the king tell the story. Little did Geoffrey know that Richard was telling a story about himself.

“Once there was a prince, heir to be king, who fell in love with a beautiful peasant girl. He was a fierce but a handsome and noble man. She was a delicate beauty. Her hair was rich caramel, her eyes brilliant green and her teeth so pearly white they could light up the dark night. The couple met by chance and fell in love at first sight. The prince knew he could never marry his true love publicly for his father, the king, would force him to renounce the throne. As a symbol, though, to his true love, the prince married her in private. But soon after their wedding, he was forced to leave his beautiful bride with his evil brother, who knew their secret, so the prince could go fight his father’s wars. The prince was unaware that his beautiful bride was with his child.

The evil brother took advantage of the prince's bride in his home and when she gave birth, assumed the child was his. He didn’t realize, until many years later, that the child was really that of his brother’s, the prince who was to be king. When he did discover the truth, he ordered the child to be killed so that the child would not be a threat to his place in line for the throne.

The prince’s beloved died in childbirth and the prince was heartbroken. Fortunately, he had many wars to fight to distract him. Years later the prince, now king, learned from the priest that performed his marriage that his beloved was not a peasant but a princess. She had run away from her harsh father, King Claudius of the small country of Peaz and was hiding in England as a peasant. She didn't tell the prince for she feared his life would be in danger. Her father had threatened to kill anyone that was possible love interest to his daughter. This knowledge saddened the king knowing had they only had a child he would have a rightful heir to the throne.

Unbelievably, the king comes to know that he does have a son! But an illegitimate son, or worse, a son born outside of a royal union, was not eligible for the throne. So, the king has to locate the proof that will reveal that his son is the rightful heir. Two items are required. The Holy is the certificate of marriage blessed by the priest (on this certificate the priest had identified the woman as the princess, not the peasant, should it ever be relevant). The Moly is the magical union of two halves of a pendant shared by the prince and his bride. The union of these two pieces would prove the lineage to the throne because the joining of the pieces could only be performed by one divinely appointed to the throne. There could be no pretenders. One half is a heart-shaped locket, the other a key. The king wears the key around his neck to this day but the heart-shaped locket hasn’t been seen since the death of the princess. The priest has also been missing in action. Without the Holy Moly, the child could not become king.

Geoffrey was enthralled with the legend and had so many questions. Who was the prince who had become king? Who was his true love? And what had become of the child? And how was he going to find this elusive priest and the Holy Moly? But Geoffrey brought himself up sharply and confidently and said to the king:

“It was this very night
I had a fright
But now know I’m a knight
So against monsters I’ll fight
Using my newfound might
I’ll set things right
And focus my sight
To resolve this plight!”

And before Richard could stop him, off Geoffrey went, typical male, not asking directions. Clearly that blow to the head not only robbed him of his memory but also of some of his sensibilities. In his enthusiasm, he headed straight for the forest, forgetting all about the sign that warned him of danger.

[Princess Wannabeme]

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After traveling only a hundred yards or so from the castle Geoffrey stopped suddenly and slapped his forehead. He looked around to confirm that he was alone. "Well, duh," he said to himself. "No horse!" He pivoted on his heels and trudged back to the castle. Clearly, before he could go on a quest he would have to have a horse. And he'd better get a change of clothes, too, he thought to himself. If anyone were to see what appeared to be a serf on a horse they would assume he had stolen it and that might bring the quest to an quick, ignominious, and possibly painful, end. Arms would be good. A shield, a lance, a sword, a dagger and some chain mail. He probably ought to ask someone about a squire, too. Someone to go with him to do the heavy lifting, or whatever it was that squires do.

While he was waiting for his acoutrements to be assembled, Geoffrey thought about the king's story about the Holy Moley. Intrigued as he was by the romantic tale, and the mystery of who the child was who could thwart Prince John's designs on the throne, he felt a slight bit of disappointment. He had thought for a moment that the king was going to send him to seek the other Holy Moley. The large, golden statuette of a mole, crowned with a glittering halo of precious stones that had been stolen from a sacred site in the Holy Land by the Knights Templar and brought to England after the First Crusade. It was said that whoever owned the Holy Moley would be invincible in battle, both foreign and civil. However, the object had been missing for a generation and locating it and possessing it were very much on the minds of the nobility. Prince John, especially, rubbed his hands together and salivated at the thought of having the Holy Moley.

A few hours later, Geoffrey started out again, properly dressed and armed for his quest. He rode a powerful horse and was accompanied by a young man named Thud. Thud wasn't too bright but he could play the psaltery and sing, and he was eager to be part of the adventure. As they approached the forest, it occurred to Geoffrey that perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone. He could find the first Holy Moley for the king and find the second for himself. Thud strummed his instrument and sang, "Moley One and Moley Two, We are coming after you!"

[Moley Three]

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...After all it is our due!

Those who stand in our way
May not live to see the day
We make evil Prince John pay

For all the grief he has brought
Upon the King (or so he thought).
Now onward with our crazy plot!

[Sesquipedaliaphobe]

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Geoffrey and his companion, Thud, rode into the forest. The road was clearly marked, but as they progressed the forest grew more dense. The canopy of huge trees blocked the sunlight so it appeared that they had entered a twilight realm, and the thick underbrush limited their vision even more. At the time of Richard I, England and Wales were heavily forested. It wasn't until some two hundred and fifty years later that significant deforestation would occur to fill the building needs of the country. The English fleet, especially, would need vast amounts of wood to construct what would become the greatest navy in the world. However, the forest that Geoffrey faced was a vast, thick, dark world that supported deer, wolves, boar and bands of dangerous outlaws.

Along with his horse, arms and his assistant, Geoffrey had been provided with a rudimentary map before he left the castle. It showed little more than the road he was following along with certain landmarks by which to judge the distance he had travelled, but it did also show an inn where travelers could obtain a meal, ale, and relative security from the night that, absent lanterns carried by travelers, was as black as pitch. The forest itself was terra incognita. Fortunately for the new knight errant and his man Thud, they came upon the inn just as the darkness had begun to set in, making further progress impossible.

In the gloom, Geoffrey could barely read the sign above the door. It read, "The Mirthless Serf." He and his entered and spoke to a heavyset man with an angry visage and a milky eye.

"Innkeeper! My man and I need lodging for the night. We will also require a meal and a pint of ale apiece." The innkeeper gave the travelers a baleful look, but he nodded and motioned for them to take a seat at the long table that dominated the center of the room. As their host went about his business, Geoffrey looked around the inn. Seated at the end of the table to his right was a man with a large tankard of ale in front of him. He was clearly a denizen of the forest, dressed in a leather jerkin with dark green leggings and a dark cloak. Clearly, he was no farmer or serf, as he wore a dagger and sword. Across his back he carried a quiver from which a number of crossbow bolts protruded. On the bench beside him lay that weapon itself. Dressed as he was, the stranger made Geoffrey uneasy. He was no soldier nor was he a knight. Why was a lowly commoner armed? He intended to ignore the man, but the stranger fixed them with a level gaze and addressed the two wayfarers.

"Who are you, and to where do you travel? It is not good to journey through the woods without an armed escort. One never knows what ill might befall the unwary pilgrim. I have heard that some unfortunates have entered the forest never to reach their destinations." The armed man continued, "This inn is the last opportunity to reconsider your plans. If you go forward you may join the ranks of those who have disappeared."

[Grandog]

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The errant knight eyed the armed man curiously and said, " Why, I am Geoffrey and this is my man, Thud. We are taking a rest before continuing our quest. Is it a threat you suggest or are you just a pest?"

The stranger's countenance brightened as he said, "A quest? A quest! This is the best! I was depressed but now I request to be your guest. I will protect you on your quest in the for-est."

Geoffrey exclaimed, "I am impressed! Afraid was I that you would molest, I was distressed but I've reassessed, yes be our guest. First we will ingest and rest and then continue on the quest expressed."

The stranger decided that as he would be increasing this questing party by one, this would be a good time to formally introduce himself. "My name is William but my friends call me Willy. I am pleased to make your acquaintances."

Out of words to rhyme with quest, and being men inherently incapable of superficial conversation, they all raised their pints to the quest, they drank, they dined, they rest(ed). When morning dawned, the intrepid trio set off on their expedition.

As they traveled, it occurred to Willy that he had yet to learn the nature of their journey. Just as Willy opened his mouth to speak, the three heard a loud sound off to the west. It sounded as if a giant beast was moving through the forest running over pine needles, snapping twigs and scaring the local fauna. They stopped their horses and tried to get a better bearing on the location of the beast. Suddenly, a giant wild boar broke through the underbrush and ran straight toward them, a hungry look in his eye. Before Thud could register his imminent peril, Geoffrey and Willy had simultaneously drawn their weapons, a sword and a crossbow respectively. When the boar was just inches away from the horses, Willy's arrow struck the boar between the eyes just as Geoffrey sliced off it's head. Thud was still trying to process what had just happened when Geoffrey and Willy looked at each other with surprise and admiration. They turned to each other and gave each other a high five.

Geoffrey said, "We're both speak the King's English well, we are skilled in the art of the fighting and we are extremely good looking. We must be brothers from another mother!"

At that Willy laughed and then said, "So, what is it we are expiscating for?" Geoffrey quickly filled him in on the pursuit of the Holy Moley, or rather the Holy Moleys - the priest, the pendant and the pest.

They resumed their journey but didn't get far when they heard a gruesome sound. They looked at each other quizzically and as they came upon the source of the sound their jaws dropped in amazement. To what to their wondering eyes should appear but several bands of dangerous outlaws practicing while waiting for their auditions for Medieval English Idol, a primitive precursor to American Idol, oddly popular in the 21st century. The cacophony was unbearable. Covering their ears and suppressing horrified giggles, the trio couldn't help but be drawn to the spectacle like moths to a flame. Over the discordant sounds of the Chalumeau and Dulcimer could be heard the wailings of one of the bands of idol wannabes...

We are so bad,
yeah, yeah, yeah
Don't get us mad
yeah, yeah, yeah
Or you'll be sad
yeah, yeah, yeah
'Cause we'll kill you!
Yeah

[Lady Bug and Malady]
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"Boy!" Geoffrey said to no-one in particular. "What started out as a noble quest at the behest of the monarch has already deteriorated into low comedy. What makes those fools think they can sing? And where does that bunch of low born chattel get off leaving their lord and fief-holder's land when they should be scrabbling in the soil to plant their meager crops? What's this country coming to?"

"Tsk, tsk," said William and Thud in unison.

With that, the trio sat down under an enormous oak to rest a moment. "By the way," William remarked to Geoffrey, "a moment ago you commented that we both speak the king's English well. Perhaps we speak English, but doesn't the king speak French? Since the Conquest our rulers have thought of themselves as Frenchmen-in-charge rather than English. N'est pas?"

"Cut me some slack, will ya," answered Geoffrey. "I've got amnesia."

"Yeah," chimed in Thud, who had been listening carefully to the exchange. "Lighten up. Besides, I don't know if I'd admit to expiscating. I had a cousin who did that once and he was excommunicated."

In a effort to lighten up the conversation and in an attempt to overcome his congenital, male inability to make small talk, Geoffrey changed the subject. "We didn't have a chance to talk about you, Willy. Tell us" (he waived his arm to include Thud) "where you're from, what you do to earn a living, why you are so heavily armed and why you were so quick to join our quest."

William paused to consider his reply. Then he responded, "I am from the village of Squatney upon Trickle. I was a crop harvester. I cut crops with a sickle on the banks of the Trickle. But I got in a pickle for being fickle and had to leave. I lived off mushrooms and wild turnips in the forest until I was kidnapped by a band of outlaws. They taught me the skills of the forest dweller and how to use these weapons that I carry. The band that I was with preyed upon hapless travelers who were foolish enough to venture into the deep woods. They were quite ruthless, although they did have a charismatic leader who gave part of his booty to the poor. Of course, he wasn't motivated by altruism but rather was interested in buying the cooperation of local residents and officials. I think the people look upon him as sort of a godfather in green. I managed to escape several years ago. As to why I was willing to join you and Thud, well......"

[Danger Dog]

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having spent the past several years offering forest travelers protection from the green godfather and his merry men (in an attempt to make up for grievances suffered by these travelers) I have decided to take a break. I need a vacation. I want adventure and excitement! And what could be better than a quest?"

Anxious to continue this quest, Geoffrey accepted Willy's explanation and said, "Well, then, onward!" As they urged their horses forward, deeper into the forest, doubt niggled at the back of Geoffrey's brain. Why would Willy be allowed to escape from the green godfather and not suffer great consequences? Granted, Willy had been kidnapped and forced into service, but once a mobster always a mobster. Something was amiss. Geoffrey decided that while it was risky to have Willy as part of their group, it was probably riskier not to. He remembered something he heard long ago, "Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer." That was just what Geoffrey intended to do.

A few hours later, the trio encountered what appeared to be a little gnome-like creature complete with a long gray beard and twinkling eyes. The three stopped their horses, not quite sure what to make of this situation. As Willy reached for his crossbow, preparing to clear the way of this minor disturbance, the gnome spoke:

"Your weapons are no threat to me
Protected by magic I will be
I know the Holy Molies which you seek
You could find them within the week
However,
In order to continue on your quest
You must pass my little test."

The three men looked at one another anxiously. A test? No one said anything about a test on the quest! But before any of them could speak, the gnome continued in an ominous voice:

"Before you answer, consider the cost
Get it wrong and all is lost
For one of you will surely perish
But get it right the answer you'll cherish...

How many knights does it take to change a lightbulb?"

Willy, perplexed, started counting on his fingers. Thud stood there in support, eyes closed, hoping he would go unnoticed. Geoffrey, though, quickly piped up. "None! There is no such thing as a lightbulb!"

The gnome, stunned that his riddle had been solved, began to pout and stamp his feet.

"So, where do we go from here, little man?" Geoffrey asked?

"Over the river and through the..." said the gnome just as he spontaneously combusted.
[LB and PW]
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"Well, that little encounter was a non-starter, wasn't it?" commented Geoffrey. "I mean, we fiddled with a riddle in the middle of our journey only to have that fidgety midget become the victim of some auto-immolating pyrotechnic. What did we get out of it? Aggravation. Whatever he was going to tell us is lost, so let's get the show on the road. Boogety, boogety."

The intrepid trio trudged through the woods, camping at night near small streams that provided them and their horses with fresh water, huddled around meager fires that they deliberately kept small to avoid attracting the attention of anyone or anything who might lurk in the darkness. The forest seemed endless. Geoffrey and Thud had begun to doubt that they would ever see the sun again in spite of William's assurances that he was quite at home in the dark woods and would lead them out of the labyrinth. It had been three days since the small group had left the path at the site of their encounter with the gnome but it seemed an eternity. Just when Geoffrey was about to suggest that they go no further and retrace their steps, they saw light ahead. They pressed forward and soon they were out of the trees and in a large meadow. Across the meadow, on top of a low hill, they saw a castle. From the top of the keep flew a banner with a coat of arms none in the group recognized.

"Where are we?" asked Thud, obviously impressed. "Who do you suppose lives there? Clearly it must be a rich and powerful lord, to have such a large and fine castle." Even William shook his head. Although he was a creature of the forest he had never been to this area before. "This is terra incognita to me," he said.

[Monsieur Dog]

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No sooner had William spoken than there was a small percussive sound and a puff of smoke directly in front of the travelers. Thud's horse, startled, shied and the young squire found himself flat on the ground. "I wondered how you came by the name Thud," Geoffrey commented. "Now I know." Turning back to focus on the source of the sound, they discovered that it was caused by the appearance of the gnome they had met on the road in the forest some days before.

"What happened?" Geoffrey exclaimed. "Where did you come from? When we saw you last you imploded! You should be mort, or as the English say, dead."

The gnome looked embarrassed and responded, "Well, I use that means of exit for dramatic effect but sometimes I get my timing wrong. I poofed a little too soon and stepped on my lines. I came back to finish my sentence about 'over the river and through the woods' but I see that you don't need my help. This was the place I was trying to send you, however cryptically."

Geoffrey, William and Thud looked at each other with raised eyebrows. "Poofed?" they asked simultaneously. As they did so, there was another small explosion and a cloud of dust and the gnome disappeared again.

As the trio approached the castle they could detect no sign of life. At most castles settlements grew up in front of the walls, with people coming and going on their way to open air markets and to the stalls where merchants sold their wares. There was also constant traffic into and out of the castle gates. But here there was no sign of life. Except for the banner on the keep there was no indication that the place was inhabited. They became aware of an eerie silence that seemed to envelop the castle and its surroundings. Pausing to consider the situation, the three wayfarers almost decided to retrace their steps and take a route around the area. But before they could reach a consensus Thud spoke.

"Look!" he cried. "Who is it that approaches us? I'll swear that there was no-one there before! The direction from which he approaches tells me that he must have come from the castle, although I saw no-one leave it!" As the figure grew nearer they could see that it was a knight upon a large powerful horse. He was heavily armed and carried a lance under one arm. The long cloak he wore over his chain mail was green, as was the blanket under his saddle. Even the armorial device on his shield was done in green. Geoffrey, William and Thud shrank back. Although William had shown that he knew well how to use the weapons that he carried and Geoffrey had discovered that he himself was an accomplished swordsman, they intuitively knew that even together they would be no match for the mysterious knight who now confronted them.

The stranger surveyed the travelers with a stony gaze and then spoke. To Geoffrey, his voice sounded as he imagined it might if it were an echo from deep inside some ancient tomb. There was the sound of a thump as Thud fell off of his horse again. And even William looked shaken.

[Fiasco (Fiona and Tabasco)]

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Suddenly, something registered deep within Geoffrey's amnestic brain. "Addressing the giant green knight he said, "Say that again!" The knight looked down at him and said rather loudly, "HO! HO! HO!" Geoffrey laughed and said, "Jolly? Is that you?" The green giant stared down at Geoffrey and then his big face split into a wide grin. "Geoff? Is that you? I haven't seen you since the knight academy!" As Thud and William watched in amazement, Jolly, the green giant knight, and Geoffrey, began some kind of complicated ritual greeting that involved hand slapping, fist bumping, butt wiggling, head butting and woohooing. When they had finished, Jolly inquired, "So what brings you to these parts?"

Geoffrey responded quite simply, "A quest!" To which Jolly said, "A quest? That's the best! I've been feeling repressed and thus depressed. My life needs zest! May I join your quest?"

Thud and William stood by looking a little unsure. To ease their anxiety, Geoffrey said to Jolly, "Let me check with the rest." The three travelers huddled and whispered and occasionally popped a head up to peek at Jolly. After a few moments a decision was made. The trio officially declared Jolly a quester and they became a quartet. Introductions were made all around.

Jolly let out a triumphant "Woohoo!" and then, abruptly, said, "Where are my manners? Would you three like to come into the castle and partake of some refreshment? And then you can tell me of what we seek."

(Lady Writer's Block)

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Soon, the quartet found themselves inside the castle walls. A disquieting silence pervaded the courtyard. There were no servants to take their horses or to show them into the great hall. No sounds could be heard from the stables or the smithy. Geoffrey couldn't even hear a bird chirp, try as he might. The interior of the castle was dim and musty but soon the travelers' eyes became accustomed to the gloom. As they wandered about the room, something caught Geoffrey's attention. Curious, he approached a niche in the stone wall next to the huge fireplace and peered at the object that had attracted his eye. Suddenly, he realized what he was looking at. It was a golden statuette of a garden pest. Yes, he thought. It's a mole. And a golden mole with a halo at that! It was the Holy Moley! He wanted to shout out his discovery to the others.

"Where did you get this?" he asked the green knight.

"I, er, well, I dunno." answered Jolly.

"What do you mean, 'I dunno'?" responded Geoffrey. His green friend looked uncomfortable. But before Jolly could answer, the group heard a deep boom echo throughout the castle. The door to the great room had been slammed shut!

Thud ran to the door and tried to open it, but to no avail. "It's locked!" he cried. "We're trapped!"

Geoffrey and William turned to the large man in green and demanded, in unison, "What's going on? What are you up to? What..." Suddenly, Geoffrey had a flash of insight and held up his hand for silence. Jolly was looking decidedly uncomfortable and had been drawing circles on the floor with his foot while he avoided eye contact. "Wait a minute!" Geoffrey exclaimed. "This isn't your castle at all, is it? IS IT?" Jolly remained silent. "What have you gotten us into?"

Still looking at the floor, the green knight responded, "I don't know whose castle this is. It has always appeared to be empty. I thought that if you believed I live here you'd be impressed."

"How do we get out?" asked Thud, looking decidedly ill at ease. But before anyone could answer with a plan to escape the castle, they heard a voice... a voice that froze them in their tracks.

"This is my castle," it said, "and you have trespassed. What business have you here? I do not welcome uninvited visitors. Speak, and I will decide what to do with you when I have learned who you are and why you are here."

Geoffrey swallowed a couple of times and began to speak. He decided to tell his whole story, beginning with finding himself, a victim of amnesia, in the stable at the castle of Lord Thomas, and ending with finding the Holy Moley only moments earlier. He also introduced his traveling companions, although he could not offer much in the way of biographical information. "And who are you?" he asked the mysterious lord of the castle. He stepped back, not knowing how his captor would react to his temerity. To his surprise, the voice answered in a level tone.

"I am Osric. I was a companion of the powerful and just King Arthur. I was at his side as he tried to return his people to the kind of social stability the Romans had created and administered in Britain for so long a time. When the Romans forces were withdrawn to the continent to address attacks upon the empire from the armies of barbarism, the pax Romanum and law order disappeared with them; I was his right hand as he sought to rebuild our society. I was with him, too, when he defeated the English tribes at Baden, and we were together when he died in battle at Camlan in the year of our Lord 515. The site upon which you now stand was an Arthurian stronghold and has been a fortification of one sort or another for as long as anyone can remember. I caused the castle itself to be built here a century ago. The spirits of many brave and dedicated warriors inhabit this place."

Geoffrey and his companions were stunned. "How is this possible?" blurted Geoffrey. "Arthur died over seven hundred years ago! No-one could possibly... that is, it's impossible that... surely you can't possibly expect us to believe... I mean this is beyond all..." He fell silent as the spectral figure of an ancient knight stepped out of the gloom and into the one feeble ray of light that showed through a narrow window in the wall high above the small group.

[Sir Loin of Pork]

__________________

The ghostly Osric stepped out of the gloom, strode past the quartet and picked up the haloed pest. Pretty cool trick for a spirit. Once again, Osric began to speak.

“I have been waiting for you for I knew you would come. You have found part of what you seek in this statue. I must tell you of the statue's power because you will need it if you are to take to take your rightful place as king.”

The quartet stared at each other. Geoffrey as king? He was just a humble knight with a faulty memory.

Geoffrey blurted out, “Surely you jest! This must be a test. Give it a rest and hand over the pest for we must continue our quest.”

Just then there was a loud thump overhead followed by faint singing, beautiful singing. Geoffrey had never heard such a lovely sound. He felt the pull of his heart toward the voice but his attention was called back into the room by Osric.

“As you know,” Osric continued as if the thump never occurred, “King Arthur was proclaimed the true king because he was able to pull Excalibur from the stone. Similarly, the person that rubs the head of this mole and then glows, a sign of the absorption of all the powers of the kings that have gone before, is the true heir to the throne of England. Be prepared. If you are the true heir, the glow will not come on as a little tingle but with the power of lightning.”

“Cool!” Geoffrey proclaimed as he held his hand out for the mole.

[Duchess of Nuttin' Honey]

________________________________________________

Geoffrey withdrew his hand quickly. "Er, what happens if I rub the mole's head and I'm not the heir to the throne?"

"I don't want to give away any secrets, " the spectral knight responded, "but suffice it to say that it isn't good. I certainly wouldn't want to discourage you by being too explicit. Go ahead, give it a try!"

"How 'bout I give it some thought?" Geoffrey asked. "I need to relax, maybe have a tankard or two, put my feet up and sort this out."

"Oh, go ahead," William said, soto voce, from behind Geoffrey. It was the first time he had spoken since the four adventurers had become trapped. "After all, King Richard told you that you're his legitimate son. What harm could it do?"

"I'll tell you what," Geoffrey answered, "You rub the statuette. We know that you're about as far from the throne as a ground squirrel. That way, when you do it, we can find out what the down side is."

William stared and shot back, "Hey! My mamma didn't raise no stupid children! Do I look like I just fell off of the turnip cart?" Meanwhile, Jolly and Thud had both retired to the rear of the room, clearly hoping to avoid whatever might happen.

Geoffrey addressed their ghostly host. "I have an idea. Why don't I just take that Holy Moley back to King Richard, unrubbed."

Before the ancient knight could thunder his refusal to let the object leave his possession, everyone heard another thump overhead. Curiosity overcoming his apprehension, Geoffrey blurted out, "What's that sound? Who's upstairs?"

Osric looked somewhat put out but tolerated the digression, if only for a moment. "What you hear is the lady Fleur. She came to the castle seeking a place to hide from the unwanted attentions of Sir Robert of Rottingham. I have allowed her to stay. She had thought herself to be alone as I haven't revealed my presence to her, but now that you four have barged in here..."

Just then, a radiant young woman entered the room from the dark stairway that descended into the gloom. Geoffrey was stunned. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Tall and graceful, with raven hair and large blue eyes, she stepped forward to examine the small group. Stopping a safe distance away she surveyed the travelers, then addressed them in a well-modulated voice.

[Hondo the Canine Troubadour]

__________________________
"Holy Moley!" she said.

[Anonymous Pulitzer Laureate]

__________________________

"Who are you? What have I stumbled into? Are you minions of that loathsome Robert of Rottingham? If you are, I will never go with you! Never! Never!"

Osric gave the others a reproving, 'now-look-what-you-have-done' look while Geoffrey stood, struck dumb by Fleur's beauty. Here, indeed, was a damsel in distress, and he found himself unable to utter a coherent word. Finally, Thud piped up and said, "Not to worry, Milady, we don' know no steenkin' Rottingham and we're really pretty nice once you get to know us."

The spell having been broken, Geoffrey regained his voice. He bowed deeply and introduced himself and his companions and explained how they had come to the mysterious castle. He started to introduce Osric as well, but when he turned to do so the ancient knight was no longer there. It occurred to him that mentioning the eerie keeper of the castle might make him sound a bit deranged, so he decided to keep mum. If Fleur already knew about him, well then he didn't need to bring it up. If one of the other members of his group said something, so be it. At least he, Geoffrey, wouldn't come across as some wacko. At that point, however, it dawned upon him that, along with Osric, the Holy Moley had disappeared.

"Well, ca-rap!" Geoffrey exclaimed.

"I beg your pardon?" said Fleur.

Geoffrey blushed and apologized. He explained about his quest and that just when the statuette had been found right there in the castle it had somehow disappeared. "Everybody look around! It has to be here somewhere!"

Half an hour later, after having searched every nook and cranny, every niche and corner of the room the searchers remained sans Moley. Discouraged, Geoffrey threw up his hands in exasperation. Fleur, seeing his discouraged expression and empathizing with his sense of frustration, said, "I have a suggestion!"

"What?" everyone asked in unison.

"Why don't we just continue the quest for the other Holy Moley and stop back by here on the return journey. That will provide us with a much-needed intermission, and maybe by then we will have some new insight on where the object may lie hidden. Meanwhile, we will have accomplished the second half of our search."

"What do you mean, 'we'?" Geoffrey asked.

"Oh, I'm coming with you!" exclaimed Fleur. "You can protect me from the evil Robert of you-know-where... safety in numbers and all that... and, besides, I'm bored to death holed up here. And I can be a big help. Somehow. I'll bet."

[Hound of the Baskervilles]

______________________

As the quintet rode away from the mysterious castle in search of the second Holy Moley, Jolly turned to Geoffrey and said, "You know, that Osric was hard to understand. He used a lot of old words."

"Well," responded Geoffrey, "that's because he was speaking Anglo Saxon. Remember, he's over seven hundred years old, so the language he used didn't have all the French influence our modern, thirteenth century language does. You probably noticed that he used 'gear-dagum' for the 'old days,' and referred to Arthur as a god-cyning', or 'good king.' Their old enemies were 'sceapena', and he used the word 'weoromynlum' a lot. It meant 'honor'. "

As they spoke, Fleur rode up alongside them on her white mare and addressed Geoffrey. "Where're we going and when'll we get there and why do you suppose ladies always have to ride mares and the men always get to ride the firey stallions I guess the mares are supposed to be more gentle but I will say that this one (Rowena) gets a little cranky from time to time and I 'spose they're white because white is a symbol of purity but I think a firey stallion would be more fun and by the way riding sidesaddle is a pain in the neck it really is 'cause when one faces to the side, she has to turn her head to see to the front and that's ok for a little while but it really gets old over the long haul so maybe we could make an exception in my case and find me a man's saddle somewhere, whaddaya think and did I mention that I could use a bite to eat?"

Geoffrey looked at Jolly out of the corner of his eye and said, soto voce, "I think this is going to be a loooong quest."

[Ranger, the mighty gelding]

_______________________

No sooner had Geoffrey spoken when the motley crew came upon a rickety little structure in the forest. A faded sign indicated that they had come to the "Holey Moley." Geoffrey's heart began to beat a little faster. "This is a sign," Geoffrey murmured. "The Holey Moley. Could it be that our quest is coming to an end?"

"Well, aren't you the big reader?" croaked a little troll-like creature standing nearby. "If it is the "Holey Moley" you seek, you have found it!" Triumphantly, the diminutive being held out what appeared to be a little cake with a hole in the middle (a delicacy known centuries later as the doughnut). Before Geoffrey could speak, Fleur jumped off her horse in a most unlady-like fashion and made a beeline for the petite cake. She inhaled deeply, smiled and then grabbed the cake and devoured it in three bites.

Having resolved her low blood sugar, Fleur suddenly began to speak, not rambling thoughts but instead coherent ideas punctuated with full stops. "That was the most delectable sweet I have encountered in some time!" The troll smiled, blushing furiously. Never had he seen such a beautiful being. Knowing that she had the little man's attention, Fleur batted her eyelashes and said sweetly, "We are on a quest. Have you seen a shadowy figure toting a gold statuette of a mole?"

The troll was more than happy to help. In fact, he was tired of running the "Holey Moley." Business was slow as not many travelers made it this far into the forest. "I would love to join your quest. I need a rest. I am depressed. And I know the way best. It's west. And besides, I have plenty of holey moleys left that we can take to sustain us! Oh, and by the way, my name is Ralph."

Again, Geoffrey didn't have time to speak. As he was pondering his response, Ralph had already passed around the holey moleys and the crew was munching heartily and happily. Geoffrey rolled his eyes. He was feeling less like he was on a quest and more like he was the leader of a parade, a very conspicuous parade. But Geoffrey, not one to hurt another's feelings, welcomed Ralph and provided introductions and a brief description of the quest for the priest, the pendant and the pest.

The crew, refreshed, headed west per the troll's guidance. As they continued to move through the forest, Ralph, who was riding with Thud since troll's don't own horses, leaned over toward Geoffrey. "Yo, Geoff," he said casually, "just so you know, we need to be careful of the dragon that protects the western edge of the forest. He's a real beast!"

Just as Ralph finished his thought, the six travelers heard a loud roar and felt the floor of the forest quake...

[Queen Queen Caroline, who washed her hair with turpentine...]

______________________________________________

Quickly the travelers drew their swords. Fleur exclaimed, "Hey! Hang on! I don't have a sword! How come I never get to..." Before she could finish, Thud handed her a sword. She took it and immediately the point struck the ground. "Crikey!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know these things were so heavy!"

The group huddled together, weapons ready. They could hear the trees crack and pop as something huge drew closer. Suddenly, it appeared. The scaly beast roared and turned its reptilian head from side to side to locate its victims. It was close enough that Geoffrey could feel the heat of its breath and smell the stench of the remains of past prey that still lingered in its serrated teeth. Its tongue flicked in and out as it swung its head toward the intrepid wanderers. Ralph, the troll, had inched away toward the trees hoping to avoid detection, but the monster sensed the movement. As quick as a cat it lunged out with one of its huge, clawed, falcon-like forefeet and crushed the hapless donut maker. Fleur was aghast. In an instant, it occurred to her that a living being had been snuffed out and the recipe for those addictive, fried circles of dough was lost forever. "Dang!" she said.

[Sir Rossis of Liver]

____________________

Just then, the now quintet heard a loud burp and then the rustle of leaves as the dragon slithered back to its lair. “I hope your arteries rot!” shouted William.

“You tell him!” said Geoffrey weakly. He had never seen anyone killed before and hoped their quest would not take them across the path of the dragon again.

Fleur on the other hand was quite focused on the loss of the donut recipe. “Sugar, surely there was sugar. Flour? That, too. What else was in those cholesterol-clogging delights? Cinnamon? Maybe a turkey egg?” She continued to mumble to herself as the quintet wandered back toward the east, away from the dragon.

William shook his head. Where did this woman come from? Most women would have fainted at the sight of the dragon crushing a man, or troll as the case may be, but not this one. William himself longed for a drink, to be back at the tavern slugging a pint. This quest was turning out to be a little more than he bargained for.

All were lost in their thoughts when suddenly they heard shouting. It was Thud! They all rushed forward to find Thud pointing at a sign. It said “Castle of Secrets – This Way” with a big arrow underneath. While Thud couldn’t read, he was sagacious enough to know the sign meant something important.

[Princess Wannabe]

_______________________________

Hoping to find someone who could direct them through the dark, seemingly endless forest and perhaps provide information that would provide some focus to their travels, the five followed the sign. As they did so, Geoffrey wondered what kind of castle they might find. He had never heard of a castle in a forest. Traditionally, castles were built on open terrain, where an enemy's approach could be observed and battles fought. Usually, they took advantage of natural features that made them easier to defend: a hill, a rocky promontory, a river. Castle builders generally built walls intended to encircle small villages, as well, as settlers were a source of goods and services and paid rents to the lord of the castle in return for protection. And, other than wood for floors and roofs, the forest didn't seem to be a likely source for castle building materials. Geoffrey was puzzled. Would the sign lead them out of the woods? What secrets did the sign refer to? Why would the castle advertise its presence?

Soon, the five friends entered a clearing and encountered a dilapidated picket fence made of sticks and limbs that had been collected from the floor of the forest. In the fence there was a gate next to which was a crudely lettered sign that announced, "Admission 2 pence," and "You must be this tall to enter." They craned their necks to see what lay beyond the gate and could just make out what appeared to be a rough caricature of a castle: a low, ramshackle structure made of wattle, with faux turrets and crenelated walls. There was a narrow, stagnant moat with a drawbridge that didn't look as if it could support the weight of a horse, much less be raised to block the entrance. The finishing touch was an insubstantial portcullis that had obviously been thrown together for effect. Uneven letters above the entrance said, "Castle of Secrets." None of the adventurers had ever seen anything like it.

"What do you think?" asked Geoffrey to no-one in particular. Jolly took off his helmet and scratched his head. There was no response until Fleur said, "Tacky, tacky, tacky."

"What do we do now?" asked William.

"Well," Geoffrey responded, "put 2d in the bucket and let's see what happens." William dropped a coin in the receptacle. It made a metallic thunk that betrayed the fact that there were no other coins inside. "Now, while we wait," Geoffrey continued, "let me say that I wasn't totally pleased at this group's performance vis a vis the dragon. What I want to see is a quintet of Myrmidons, not a band of bumblers. This is turning into an exercise in nugacity. Now, let's be assertive, proactive, forceful and smart. What do you say, gang? Whatever comes up, we're more than a match for it. Right? Let's hear it! Hoo-rah!

No sooner had he finished his pep talk when a strange figure appeared from the odd building's front portal. It was an old man with a white beard, dressed in a tall, conical hat and long robes. He wore a name tag that said, "Hello, I'm Merlin." "Aah!" he exclaimed. "I heard the sound of money! Welcome to the Castle of Secrets! Prepare to be amazed!"

[DOD (Duke of Drek)]

___________________

The fearless five looked at each other and Thud snickered. "Nice outfit," he muttered under his breath. Little did they know what was in store for them. Merlin waved his berobed arm toward the entrance to the "castle" and intoned, "Follow me."

They all entered the portal and found themselves in a well lit room. "Please sit while I get some refreshments," said their host.

Fluer looked around the room and noticed there was an armoire. Curious, she walked over and opened the door. Inside, she found clothes. "Oooh, look at these fine frocks!" She looked down at her rather ragged outfit. Though she was quite beautiful, tall and graceful, she dressed like a maidservant in frumpy, unfitted clothes. It was a tribute to her beauty that the clothes did not detract from it. Needless to say, the ragtag group she had joined wasn't looking much better.

Just then Merlin returned to the room and passed around the plate of crackers and tankards full of ale. Fluer took a bite of the cracker. "Yummy, but they could use some sugar, maybe cinnamon?" She couldn't get the fried dough delights off her mind.

"So, what secrets does this castle hold?" Geoffrey asked, eager to get on with their quest and to get Fleur's mind off the donuts.

"Secrets that are life-changing!" Merlin crowed. "Please sit, listen and you will learn. Just give me a moment."

All hurriedly sat and watched intently as Merlin ambled from the room. Fleur took the opportunity to look again at the armoire. "I think there are jewels in there, too. I so wish I had some style sense and knew how to accessorize..."

Just then Merlin walked back into the room with two others. Smiling, he introduced his companions. "I am pleased to introduce Sir Clinton and Lady Stacey. They are going to share their secrets of what not to wear which will lead to confidence and greater self-esteem."

Before they knew what hit them, Sir Clinton and Lady Stacey were explaining the benefits of straight-leg, flat front knickers to the men and the flattering affects of empire waists and A-line skirts to Fleur. A pop of color in your accessories was the secret to any great outfit.

Powdered, puffed, styled and accessorized, the quintet trouped from the castle and back into the forest. With new confidence they resumed their quest.

[Countess of Couture]
_____________________________________

After they had gone a short distance, Geoffrey held up his hand and called for a halt. When the group had gathered around its leader, he asked, "Will someone please tell me what happened back there? We entered that place as intrepid adventurers and left as over-dressed fops!" He glanced at Fleur and added, "well, maybe not you." He continued, "Not only that, we paid 2d to get in so we could end up paying a ton more for these hoity-toity garments we're wearing." He looked at Jolly and snickered. "It makes me angry, until I look at you, and then I have to laugh. Of course, your garb could be an advantage. Any self-respecting enemy would fall off of his horse at the sight. Knickers? Who ever heard of a knight in knickers!"

William spoke up, "I think we were taken in by some kind of couture con artists. Lady Fleur looks pretty good, I have to admit, but she's hardly dressed for our arduous task. What she needs is a pair of pants to ride in, not another floor-length gown. And besides, it's a wonder she doesn't strangle with all that stuff around her neck. Accessories, indeed!"

Jolly interjected, "Well, don't pick on me! All of you look like girly-boys."

"Who're you calling a girly-boy?" shouted Thud.

"Hang on! Han Gone!" shouted Geoffrey. "This is getting us nowhere. Everybody stop complaining. We learn from our mistakes. Cowboy up and lets decide what we're going to do about this."

"Cowboy up?" asked Fleur. "What does that mean? What's a cowboy, some kind of mythical cross between a bovine and a boy? It sounds grotesque!"

"'Cowboy up' means 'take it like a man and stop complaining.' A cowboy is a... er... never mind. Just suck it up and make the best of the situation."

No sooner had Geoffrey stopped speaking than a rough-looking group of five men stepped onto the path in front of the quintet of adventurers. They were dressed in forest green, all the better to go unnoticed in the forest. They had on hardy shirts of homespun wool, durable pants, leather vests and soft-soled shoes. On their heads they wore peaked caps with feathers in the bands. They carried weapons, the most notable of which was a long bow, slung over the shoulder. The leader of the group addressed Geoffrey. "Stand and deliver!" he said. "Surrender your purses, your weapons and your horses, or the next traveler will find your bones bleaching along the road."

"Man!" exclaimed Geoffrey. "If isn't one thing it's another. After what we just experienced, this happens!" His entire band, irritated and frustrated at having been finagled by the fast-talking fashionistas at Merlin's Castle of Secrets, charged the would-be robbers as one, screaming and swinging their swords. Startled the robbers fell back, but before they could recover and draw their bows, Geoffrey, Jolly, Fleur, William and Thud were upon them.

A short while later, the five were back on the path through the forest. Behind them, they left five holdup men dressed in knickers and otherwise incongruously fashionable clothes, tightly tied to trees. The leader of the armed robbers wore a long dress with several yards of accessorizing bling around his neck.

"I feel a lot better now," said Geoffrey, to no-one in particular. There was general agreement in the ranks.

Fleur agreed, saying, "It sure feels better to be wearing pants, no matter what kind of scandal it may cause. I wish that those low born thieves had been mounted... I might have been able to get rid of this sidesaddle!"

"Cowboy up!" said Geoffrey. "We'll take care of that later."

[Sir Drivel]

___________________

As Geoffrey led his motley crew seemingly deeper into the never-ending forest, he let his mind wander over the events that had gotten them to this point. It was a lot to process for a young knight. Geoffrey had gone from a stablehand with amnesia to being a knight on a quest at King Richard's behest, a quest for the Holey Moley trio (the locket, the priest and the golden mole).

Geoffrey was jolted from his reverie with the sound of sobbing. He slowed his faithful steed and circled back toward the group. To his surprise he found Thud, great big tears falling from his eyes, working up to a loud wail. Afraid of attracting unwanted attention Geoffrey slapped his squire's face and said sternly, "Get it together, man. Whatever is the problem?"

Taken aback by the sound slap, Thud hiccuped and stared mutely at Geoffrey. Then he said timidly, tears threatening to spill from his eyes once more, "I miss my mom. I miss my home. What are we doing in this godforsaken forest?"

Geoffrey could see that Thud's companions shared his feelings. All looked as if they had lost the zest for the quest. The young knight reminded his fellow travelers of the purpose of the quest. Seeing a glazed look in their eyes he decided that it was time for a pep talk. He had everyone dismount and then gather together in a huddle, arms draped around one another. He then recounted all the obstacles that one or all had faced thus far: a boar; a band of singing outlaws; a enigmatic gnome; Osric, the ghostly knight; the death of Ralph, the troll; a dragon; the loss of the fried cakes; a makeover and lastly, a gang of bow-wielding thieves. Geoffrey told them that if they could get this far surely they could dig deep and persevere.

After a moment of silence the ragtag group looked at one another and then Thud placed his hand in the middle of the huddle. Jolly put his on top and Willy and Fleur followed suit. Geoffrey smiled and placed his hand on as well. In unison they said, "Any time, any place, we, the questers, are on the case!" After some laughter and some hearty backslaps, everyone remounted their horses ready to finish the quest.

The five traveled no more than a hundred yards when the trees thinned and light began to shine. A beautiful meadow filled with wildflowers spread in front of them, not a tree in sight. "At last, no more damn forest," said Thud under his breath.

[Duchess of Disco]

_____________________________

The sky was blue with high white clouds. They could see birds soaring through the cool air. The flowers spread a blanket of color before them. The contrast with the foreboding gloom of the dark forest was startling. It was as if they had entered a magical kingdom. The travelers could almost imagine that they heard music. Soon, as they followed the faint path through the meadow, Fleur commented, "I thought that I imagined that I heard music but you know what? I do hear music."

"Me, too," the others pitched in.

As they pressed on, they became aware of someone approaching. Soon they could see that it was a man, dressed in bright garments made of rags and patches. As he strolled along, he strummed an instrument and sang in a beautiful tenor voice, "A wandering minstrel, I, ..." He stopped singing and halted in his tracks when he saw the five adventurers. When they drew close, he gave a deep bow, sweeping his hat from his head with an elegant gesture.

"You sing beautifully," said Fleur. "Who are you?"

"I yam Don Diego de Zamboni, a small town in Espana. I yam a trovador. I seeng songs for de peeples in return for a few coins. I do requests. Jou gotta cancion jou wanna hear?"

"We are on a quest," Geoffrey interjected. "Perhaps you can give us some information to help us find the object of our search."

Don Diego looked indignant. "Do I look like informacion central? What makes jou theenk I will geeve you informacion? I yam a seenger."

Geoffrey may have spent the last few years in a stable, but he could see where this was going. "Far be it from us to expect you to take time out of your busy schedule to talk to strangers when you could be singing for someone who shows his appreciation with money," he said while thinking to himself that there probably not a paying customer within miles of where they were. "Of course, we would not expect you to give us information without recompense."

Don Diego smiled, mollified. "What ees eet dat jou want to know?"

Geoffrey explained the purpose of their quest to the Spanish troubadour and asked, "Do you know where we might find someone who could lead us to the priest who conducted the marriage ceremony between Richard and Catherine? We seek him not only for King Richard but also for his own sake as, should the king's brother John should learn of his existence, his life could be in grave danger."

"And jou would protect him?" asked the minstrel.

"Yes!"

"Then jou have come to de right place. Jou have foun' the priest jou seek. Yo soy him. Es me! I yam de man." Don Diego noticed the look of skepticism on the faces of his audience. "Ees true. I used to be a priest, but I quit for the lure of de open road. Now I am a seenger of songs and a free spirited wanderer."

"And where is the document recording the birth of the child?" Geoffrey demanded, doubtfully.

"I'll show jou!" Don Diego exclaimed. "Eet is in a small iglesia, er, church, not too far from here. Eet is in the records. De veras!"

"Then let's go," said Geoffrey. Jolly pulled the singer up behind him on his great horse and they set out once more, hoping that they would be successful and soon able to return to Osric's castle to complete their quest.

[El Cuentero]

__________________

"I'm beginning to feel the agony of hunger pain..." mused Geoffery. Directing his distress towards their new guide, he haughtily requests "Good sir, perchance is there a place on the way to the church where we may dine? I'm afraid that my disposition is becoming a bit foul due to a certain lack of food."

"Why, of course, senor!" Don Diego replied with good cheer. "We can stop at the royeel 'all of King Burger! Hee is the best cook een these parts. Not only es his food prepared quickly, you can place your orders by numbur." The minstrel breaks out into a tune that sings the praises of the Burger King, illustrating in great detail the quality of the ingredients he employs.

Geoffery and company are only slightly perplexed at this point. "Should I even bother asking why this local monarch is in the habit of creating cuisine and serving it to the unwashed masses?" ponders the stable boy turned potential throne-seeker.

"Another burger?" grumbles William. "I hope this one's better than the one I got in Scotland. That clown of a chef churned out a meal that would make a goat grimace!"

"That sucks somethin' awful." remarks Thud. "But if you think thats horrible, then stay away from the red-headed lass in the burrough of Indigeston. Every time I go there I come away with the winds...such terrible winds!"

Jolly, an ardent vegetarian, begins to speak of the wonders of bean burgers, but abstains. The last time he was in such a conversation he was mocked and subsequently banished from the group.

"I've never suffered so greatly as thee. But let me tell you," Lady Fluer proclaims. "I once knew a jester who made burgers when he was not entertaining. The wonderous scent of greasy food often would rise up from his make-shift kitchen to his king's open bedroom window. Thinking the aroma mere peasant food the royal regularly denied his stomach's insistent demands. Eventually, however, he was unable to control his primal desire and the king ordered a servant to retreive a burger for him."

"The jester, whose name was Jack, was so humbled that the king should want to feast upon anything that lay upon his grill. So to show his gratitude, he brought his burger to the king personally. Jack stood before his lord while his specialty was consumed. It seemed all was well as the king finished his meal in a quick manner, leaning back in his throne bearing a broad smile across his face and a hand atop his full belly. But while the king dabbed his beard with his napkin, his smile slowly gave way to an expression of utter distress. A great, menacing sound slowly erupted from his bowels that could be heard throughout the castle. What followed shortly afterwards could only be explained as...the utmost embarassment."

"Jack was escorted immediately to the dungeon where he was sentenced to be locked in a small box as punishment. A hole on top of his cell allowed him to stretch his body which was his only exercise. But every time he took advantage of this ability to move, he was forced to stick his head out thereby risking abuse at the hands of his keepers in a form of torture known as...Whack-a-Mole."

[Baron Brain]
_____________________________________________________________

After their brief tangent, Don Diego said “To eet or not to eet ees the question.”

“Eet!” was the unanimous reply from the troupe. So they all headed off to Burger King for a little sustenance before continuing their journey.

Arriving at the fast food tavern, each one picked a number, fascinated with the concept. Being gentlemen, they let Fleur go first. She placed her order and as she was carrying it on a tray to a table she tripped, but managed to hold onto her tray. When she sat, she realized that some of her drink spilled onto her now favorite, and only, pair of pants. As the men returned to the table they heard her say “Out, damned spot!”

After a delightful meal, after which no one suffered any ill effects, they headed for the door, planning to mount up and resume their quest. As they walked out they noticed their horses were gone and so was the priest! Geoffrey, in frustration, shouted, “A horse, a horse, my future kingdom for a horse!”

[Lady Macbeth]

____________________________________

He turned to his followers and said, "A little neglect may breed great mischief... for want of a burger the horses were lost; and for the want of the horses the riders were lost; and for the want of the riders the quest was lost!  Oh, woe is us, to have come so far only to be laid low by the thievery of that Iberian Iago, that Spanish swindler, that Latin lowlife!  Diego the Deceiver! The Troubadour of Trickery!  The Minstrel of Malice!  The Sinful Singer of ..."

"OK," interrupted Fleur.  "We get it.  What do we do now?  Do we have enough bucks between us to buy new mounts, or do we go back to the forest and emulate that robbing hoodlum that William used to work for and steal some steeds?"

"Hey!  I like that!" Jolly said.  "We're bad!  We're bad!  We're baaaaad!" 

Geoffrey rolled his eyes heavenward as if to say, "spare me!" then looked at Jolly and remarked pointedly, "'The saying is true, 'The empty vessel makes the greatest sound.'  Please do not prove it.  Just zip it.  Zi PIT!"  Addressing the small band, he went on, "'There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things.'  Cowboy up.  We'll get through this."

No sooner had he finished speaking than he heard a voice behind him.  "Jou made a mistake. My Ingles een't so good, but even I know that jou should say 'There are' and not 'there is.' Occasions is plural!"

"I know that," rejoined Geoffrey.  "I was quoting someone else who said it that way.  So just butt out.  Now..."  He did a double-take.  "Wait!  Diego?  Diego!  Where've you been and what have you done with our means of transportation, you thieving Castilian con man?  I oughtta..."

"I was in de men's room," Diego replied.  Jou would be surprise at how hard it is to find a men's room in our thirteenth century environment.  Ees no mean trick, I tell jou!  As for de caballos, I don' know nothing 'bout no steenking caballos!"

"Hey!  Here's my vote," Fleur said, louder than she needed to, exasperation nibbling at the edges of her words, "Let's hike over to the church, which isn't far, get the document we need, then get our nalgas" (she looked at Diego and said sarcastically in a lower voice, 'comprendes nalgas, amigo?') "into the forest.  Instead of robbing the rich I think we should rob the dirty thieves who rob the rich in the first place.  Get that robbing hoodlum in the old cross hairs. And William is just the person to find him!  Then we can get back to Osric's castle."

A cheer went up from the small group.  "OK, let's go!" they said in unison.

[The Prince of Persiflage]

_______________________

   
Despite the fact that they now had to travel on foot, the group, armed with a plan, took their nalgas and followed the seenger/priest over hill and dale to the little iglesia.  If Diego was indeed telling the truth and it did indeed hold the documentation Geoffrey sought, the group could check the priest off their quest list and continue their search for the remaining items, the pendant and the pest.  "Soon," Geoffrey thought to himself, "we can give this godforsaken quest a rest!"

After what seemed to be hours later the tired travelers stopped in front of an unassuming little structure.  The only indication that the place might have any connection to God was a small cross carved into the wooden door.  Don Diego waved his arms excitedly and exclaimed, "Ees mi iglesia.  We here!"

Don Diego opened the door and the group tumbled in after him.  All seemed to be wondering whether this quest was really going to result in something other than thieves, dragons, gnomes, castles and whatnot.  Diego walked over toward the small, simple altar, knelt before the crucifix that hung above it, mouthed a silent prayer and crossed himself. He then turned toward the altar.  He ran his hands over the back side of it tapping lightly. When he found the spot he was looking for Diego tapped three times.  A tiny door swung open. Diego slipped his hand into the opening.   Geoffrey, Thud, William, Jolly and Fleur took a collective breath.  Suddenly, Diego smiled.  "Heere is vat you vant!" he said triumphantly.

Geoffrey walked over to Diego and took the paper from his hand.  Since Geoffrey had been educated in reading, he looked over the document and nodded to the group.  "It shows that Catherine was indeed a princess and that Richard and Catherine were indeed married!" "Hallelujah!" the group shouted simultaneously.

Everyone was so busy hugging and high fiving the priest and each other that they did not immediately notice the woman standing in the doorway.  Her shadow caught Geoffrey's eye and he turned to see what attracted his attention.  When he saw her, he went still.  There was something very familiar about her.  He knew her!  "Mom?" Geoffrey whispered.  Tears began to stream down his face and hers.  As he continued to look at her he noticed the heart shaped locket hanging on a chain around her neck.  The woman nodded, walked to Geoffrey and folded him into her embrace.  It was then that Geoffrey realized that this woman was Catherine, the beloved wife of Richard and his mother.  That meant that he, Geoffrey, was the son and rightful heir to the throne England!  "Unbelievable!" he thought.

Once reunited, Catherine told her story.  She explained that she had been afraid that John would discover that Geoffrey was really Richard's son, afraid for Geoffrey and herself.  With the help of those delivering her child, Catherine faked her own death and sought the help of the priest who had married her and Richard.  Though she desperately missed her son, she knew he would be safer without her.  Since her "death" Catherine lived here serving God and taking care of the poor people who attended the iglesia.

As much as Geoffrey didn't want to leave Catherine, he knew he had to finish the quest.  He had the proof from the priest and the pendant from Catherine.  Now to find the pest and head back to King Richard!  Geoffrey promised to return once the quest was at rest.

As he tried to round up the troupe he was met with a lot of grumbling.  "This is a touching situation and all," said William, "but we are hungry!"  At that Catherine smiled widely and disappeared.  She soon returned with a tray covered with a cloth.  She pulled off the cloth to reveal little fried cakes.  "I call them donuts," she said.  Fleur collapsed at Catherine's feet in utter joy.  "I never thought I would see those delectable little treats again!" she shouted.  When asked about the recipe, Catherine explained that she had gotten it from a little magical forest gnome named Harvey.  To Fleur's delight Catherine sent them on their way loaded with donuts and the recipe.

Refreshed, the five travelers bade Don Diego and Catherine farewell and paraded back in the direction of the forest, stolen horses and Osric's castle.  

[Caroline]

_________________________

As they trudged along, Fleur turned to Geoffrey and commented, "I feel really good about finding the wedding record and the locket, but I have to say that I'm relieved to have left that Diego person behind.  OK, he did lead us to Holy Moley number one, but there was something not quite right about him."

"Really? Like what," Geoffrey responded.

"Like did you notice his accent?  When he extracted the marriage record he said, "Heere is vat you vant."  He went from sounding like a Puerto Rican baseball player (or would have if I knew what Puerto Rico and a baseball player are) to sounding like Vlad the Impaler (if only Vlad had been born by now.)  There was also a little je ne sais quois about him that didn't ring true.  And that business about the horses bothers me.  There is something really fishy about that.  Who ever heard of a men's room?"

Soon the little band of adventurers reached the dark and forbidding forest.  Something made Geoffrey uneasy.  He turned to his squire, Thud, and asked for his sword.  Thud drew the sword out of one of the large saddlebags that he had removed from his horse at Le Roi de Burgairs and now carried over his shoulder, and offered it to his master.  Before Geoffrey could grasp it, however, it fell to the ground.  "Hang on!"  Geoffrey exclaimed. "What's up with you, my ambisinister amigo?  My fumble-fisted friend?  My slipshod sidekick?  My ham-handed..."

Fleur interrupted, batting her eyelashes and lowering her voice, "You're babbling again, Big G."

Geoffrey looked at Fleur.  There was something in her tone that he hadn't heard before. Something about the way she looked at him.  He felt himself blush.  He had been aware of how beautiful she was but somehow the difficult quest had demanded so much of his attention that he had given it little thought.  Now, however, he realized what a striking figure she had, apparent even in men's clothing.  No wonder that Diego character had hung around her so closely (he felt a twinge of anger at the recollection.)  He gulped.  "What a babe!" he thought to himself.  Did he dare dream that at some point his interest might be reciprocated?

He shook himself.  "Sorry, Thud," he muttered as he leaned down to pick up the sword.  Now armed, he motioned the group into the woods.  What intuition made him ill at ease?  They had traversed the forest before.  Somehow, something was different this time.  Something wasn't quite right.  For some reason he sensed menace, danger.  Soon, gloom enveloped them.

[WBS]

_______________________    

Geoffrey couldn't believe it.  The quest he started with such zest he now wanted to put to rest. He didn't want to deal with gloom and danger.  He simply wanted to go home and explore the possibility of a relationship, or at the very least mad, passionate sex, with Fleur, the babe with the bodacious bod.  

However, Geoffrey didn't like to leave things unfinished.  So he led his motley crew once again into the woods.  He knew that his little group shared his frustration given all of the grumbling and growling he heard behind him.  They hadn't gone far when Thud, ever the trusty servant, said observantly, "These woods sure are gloomy.  The air seems a little thicker than before." William and Jolly nodded their agreement as they both began to cough.

Fleur looked around and realized that the gloom was a result of a fire that was blazing just ahead of them.  At first she thought that the dragon had resurfaced and toasted a lost traveler. Upon closer examination she noticed a couple of odd elfin-like shoes.  She then understood what had happened.  Fleur turned to the group and said, "It looks a like several of the wood gnomes were together when they self-immolated.  That's what caused all the gloominess.  Once we get a little farther this smoke should dissipate."

At this point no one knew how or why Fleur would know anything about gnomes, their rituals, including self-immolation, or the characteristics of smoke for that matter, but no one cared. All shared Geoffrey's waning enthusiasm for the quest.  And why not, all that was left was some stupid mole statue that may or may not have the power to make a man king.  So they trudged forward through the smoke looking for the final object that would put an end to their journey.  

Suddenly the smoke dissipated as Fleur predicted and the questers found themselves once again in the clearing where Osric's castle stood.  Geoffrey shook his head and looked again. "Could we really be near the end of this quest?" he wondered aloud.  Shouts of potentially premature enthusiasm arose from those behind him and he felt those feelings of joy overcome him as well. Geoffrey took a deep breath, smiled and said in a confident voice, "To the Holey Moley!"

Without so much as a plan the small group stormed the castle, swords at the ready (though useless against a ghost it seemed like the thing to do).  The five of them tumbled through the front door landing on one another.  Once they had managed to separate themselves from one another, William said, "I think we need to spread out, each go a different direction in search of the mole.  Whoever finds it yell but don't touch it.  We wait for Geoffrey!  And then we see what happens!"  The team huddled, stacked hands and threw them up and cheered wildly.  As he went off Geoffrey realized he was too tired at this point to be concerned about a ghost named Osric or fondling a golden rodent statuette.  If need be he would do it and take his chances. With luck nothing would happen they could end this nonsense and go home.  

Geoffrey wandered into the great hall, lured by the fire.  He stood before the blaze and rubbed his hands together warding off the chill in the castle.  Suddenly a glint of light caught his eye. He looked up and saw the golden garden pest occupying the niche in the wall next to the fireplace.  Geoffrey couldn't believe his eyes!  He let out a whoop and his companions came running into the hall.  

Desperate to put this quest to rest Geoffrey didn't think, he simply walked straight over to the golden mole and picked it up.  He placed his right hand on the head of the statue and began to rub.  Soon Geoffrey began to glow as if lit up from within.  Then, as previously indicated, he felt a tingling sensation, then more of a burning.  "Is it possible?  Am I the true heir to the throne of England?" Geoffrey thought.  Suddenly he was jolted from his thoughts when Fleur shouted, "Geoffrey, you're on fire!"  Apparently a flame from the fireplace licked Geoffrey's cloak as he reached for the mole.  Fortunately Thud had taken the fire safety class, one of the requirements for  being a squire.  He ran toward Geoffrey, tackled him and rolled him across the floor, the early version of "Stop, Drop and Roll."  When the fire was out, Thud helped Geoffrey to his feet.  

"I guess this means I must be the rightful heir to the throne of England," Geoffrey said with a smile.  He picked up the statue and packed in his bag along with the document proving the union between Richard and Catherine and the locket.  Then he said the words everyone longed to hear, "Let's go home!"  Shouts and whoops of joy could be heard throughout the castle and beyond.

Epilogue:

The questers returned to King Richard and presented him with the three Holey Moleys.  King Richard congratulated the group and knighted Thud, William and Jolly.  As he was a progressive king and supported equality for women, he knighted Fleur as well.  He gave Geoffrey, his now legitimate son, the official title of Prince of England, heir to the throne.  

Geoffrey told Richard that he had no interest in being the king.  Instead, Geoffrey asked Fleur to marry him.  With the money they received as a wedding gift from King Richard the two started their own donut company with the recipe given to them by Catherine.  This company was the precursor to the modern day Dunkin' Donuts.

Will, Thud and Jolly formed their own tour company.  They took travelers on tours which included the gloomy woods, Osric's castle, the Castle of Secrets and Don Diego's iglesia and the highlight, Best in the West Donuts run by Geoffrey and Fleur.  

The quest is now at rest.

[Caroline]