Panache and the Curious Affair of the Gin and Tonic

[Panache]

Panache and the Curious Affair of the Gin and Tonic


A Victorian Serial told in Chapters

Chapter 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



The Moderator Bradley raced down the stairs onto the landing.

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

“Err no I…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bradley regarded me with a rather queer and puzzled expression .

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

I was alone on the landing and all was silent.



Silent?



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



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

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


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



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



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

We ran to the window and drew the curtains.

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

Our mountain floated in a starless void.

To be continued...

[Standard]

Hmmm.... curiouser and curiouser. I like it. Interesting play between the three tales. Now, I think I need another Glenmorangie to await the next episode.

[Wompet]

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

We seem to have gone from Michael Moorcock to Douglas Adams.

“Oh good, I was rather concerned. Well that and the fact that reality seemed to have winked out of existence beyond our little mountain”

We ran to the window and drew the curtains.

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

Our mountain floated in a starless void.

To be continued...

Okay, back to Moorcock.

[McClef]

Looks like I need to get working on starless void maps!

[davedove]

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

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

“Hmmmm… that sounds suspiciously like disintegration to me . My dear fellow just drop the pretense. You vaporized Dave Dove into his component atoms

WHAT!! You disintegrated me? Now you have gone too far.

For my next movie I think we will need a casting change, someone new to play the role of Panache. I know, Pauly Shore doesn't seem to be doing much these days.

[davedove]

We ran to the window and drew the curtains.

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

Our mountain floated in a starless void.

There, you see, that's why Hollywood doesn't pick up your stories. Think of the special effects budget.

[McClef]

There, you see, that's why Hollywood doesn't pick up your stories. Think of the special effects budget.

I think it might be more to do with the gin and tonic budget!

[Panache]

Panache and the Curious Affair of the Gin and Tonic:

A Victorian Serial told in Chapters

Chapter 3

One must understand that human mind has limitations and is only capable of understanding, accepting, and dealing with just so much out of the ordinary. Whilst disturbing abnormalities such a rubber chicken worn as a sporran, a bright pink kilt, or a sporran pulled down over one’s head can be quite upsetting to the viewer, these images can at least be placed within some sort of a context (generally being that the wearer of each has serious personality problems and should seek out qualified medical attention as soon as humanly possible). But what we beheld out the Library windows was simply too much for us, and we were completely overwhelmed by our inability to accept that apparently the universe at large had nipped off for a bit. Only Mr. Tibbles was unaffected as he continued his work on the leg of the table.

Luckily the British have a clever system for dealing with both the unpleasant and the unacceptable and I decided to implement it.

Closing the heavy velvet curtains I asked our small band “tea anyone?”

Spasm served tea on the best china and we all tried our best to “keep calm and carry on” as an old government poster used to declare in the grim days of the Blitz in England. Given the circumstances we thought Spasm should join us, but he wouldn’t hear of it. (Curiously our aged and doddering retainer seemed a lot less strange in the present situation. It may simply have been that with the lack of reality beyond our doorstep that Spasm’s peculiarities seemed normal in comparison. Which was somewhat disturbing in itself. I took comfort in the fact that after pouring tea for Trefor, Colin, Arlen, and I , Spasm also served a good measure into the top drawer of Todd’s desk. Perhaps in honor of our recently departed Librarian? Or perhaps he thought it was good for the finish. One really could never tell with our butler. But I digress) . We sipped our Darjeerling and nibbled on scones with lemon curd and red current jelly. We all tried very hard to neither speak or think about what lay (or rather didn't lay) beyond the window, hoping that perhaps after a bracing cup of tea things might sort themselves out. Arlen’s youth betrayed him and he had trouble maintaining the polite small talk.

“Interesting day” noted Colin

“Indeed, more tea?” I replied

“Yes please”

“The scones are quite nice aren’t they” piped up Trefor brightly

“Try them with some of the lemon curd” I said as I filled Colin’s cup.

Arlen sobbed and we all hissed “hush” at him.

“Nice weather…err…at least earlier” said Trefor

“Almost balmy” noted Colin

“Until everything went black!” wailed Arlen. The young Scot buried his face in his arms and rubbed his short cropped hair in his hands.

“Come on Arlen, remember stiff upper lip and all” offered Trefor.

“I left my stiff upper lip in the British Isles, which seem to have gone missing along with everything else!”

“More tea?” I asked helpfully.

“Tea is not going to fix this!” said Arlen firmly.

“Tea fixes all of life’s problems ” I said firmly.

“I thought that was whisky?” asked Colin.

“Yes, but whisky tends to be the cause of them all as well” noted Trefor.

Arlen listened to all this cheerful reassurance and started openly weeping.

“Perhaps things are better now?” ventured Colin .

“You never know” added Trefor.

Arlen stood and walked around the dark leather couch and chairs where we were sitting to the curtains directly behind us . We heard the light “whoosh” of the velvet draperies being opened and the clink of their rings sliding along the metal rod.

Arlen let loose a blood curdling scream and quickly drew the curtains again.

“Apparently not” I muttered.

“More tea Jamie?” asked Colin

“Please”

We sipped our tea quietly. The only sounds in the Library being those of Mr. Tibble’s industrious gnawing and Arlen’s wailing.

In normal circumstances Mike took care of the new staff members, giving them a friendly cuff on the ear for encouragement or a beating to bring them to their senses as needed. But Mike wasn’t here (or anywhere for that matter) so I would have to do my best. Setting down my tea cup and brushing away a crumb of scone from my beard I walked to Arlen and put a friendly arm around his shoulders. “There there lad! Don’t worry. All we need to do is wait for a bit of exposition.”

“A bit of what?” Arlen looked at me, his eyes red and teary.

“A bit of exposition! I have a strong suspicion that someone at the Mata Hari Institute of Culinary Excellence knows something about what is going on. There was a reason they sent those crates and this” I said tapping the heavy belt buckle at my waist. “ All we need to wait for them to contact us. Then we will understand what happened, who is responsible, and what is it that we must do to put things right”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite sure“

“Captain Panache is absolutely correct” said the shimmering image of a lady materializing in the middle of the room with an English accent.

Colin and Trefor jumped from their seats, Spasm dropped the tray of chocolates he was carrying, and even Mr. Tibbles paused and looked up from his pile of wood shavings under the table at the vision. The image was of a of a handsome, short, busty lady with unruly hair of deep brown, worn collar length with a light fringe. She was lightly tanned and gave an impression of youth and health despite a few gray hairs that indicated a more mature age. Behind large translucent framed glasses a pair of brown eyes with gray rings around the iris regarded the remaining members of the League of the Moderators. The lady wore a tartan kilt, a white buttoned long sleeved shirt, flat sensible looking shoes, and a black bowler hat. She exuded confidence.

Only a slight glowing and flickering of the image made it clear that this was some sort of cinematic-like projection instead of a real person before us. The image regarded us all and spoke:

“How do you do. I am Madam Pleater, Head director of the MHICE. As to what happened and how to put things right, well that shall take some explanation as Captain Panache mentioned. But as to who is responsible for the complete unraveling of the universe and negation of the entire Space/Time Continuum that’s easy... “

“It was Grant.“


To be continued.

[Splash_4]

[B]

“It was Grant.“

Oh My! That seems to explain it all.

[BobsYourUncle]

“How do you do. I am Madam Pleater, Head director of the MHICE. As to what happened and how to put things right, well that shall take some explanation as Captain Panache mentioned. But as to who is responsible for the complete unraveling of the universe and negation of the entire Space/Time Continuum that’s easy... “

“It was Grant.“


To be continued.[/QUOTE]

Oh, do go on. [Chin resting on hands, shifting to the edge of his seat]