Friday, July 07, 2006

Story Line: Interlude

As L'il Timmy Rompkins and Professor Klimmingstock rode off in the rickshaw, Hansel Daggerfjord lay on the ground, a bleeding mass of fleshy pulp and red hair. It was indeed a sad state, particularly for Daggerfjord who was more than a little vain. His Jaggerish lips were now so swollen that has face had the monstrous appearance of Carly Simon in a vacuum chamber. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and his roman nose was cocked at a dangerous angle. If not broken, then certainly begging for it, if only from medical necessity.

With a strange, coordinated high-step manuever, the Singaporean police collected themselves into ranks and did a sudden about-face, turning to attention just as a bearded Canuck in a scarlet blazer stepped into their field of view.

"Ree captulled him, la" said one of the Sinaporeans, ringing out his oriental patois with its characteristic verbal punctuation.

"Corporal Ying, I am afraid that this unfortunate Scotsman is not the man we are looking for," replied the Huskyhumper. From where he lay, Daggerfjord could easily assess this newcomer. His gold tasselled epaulettes, crested black riding flippers, serge bulbous pants, and swimming goggles made it quite clear that this was one of the Royal Canadian Mounted Marines, that rare breed, dispatched from the Yukon to serve as frogmen during the second world war. As mythical as Delta Force, and as feared as the Department of Health & Human Services.

"But Cororrerr Snrarck" Corporal Yang protested, "You say allest the mahrn rith rips rike ritter prumpkins,la?"

"No Corporal Ying, I said arrest Little Timmy Rompkins, not arrest the man with lips like little pumpkins. I'm afraid that Rompkins has eluded your grasp."

"Eruded are glasp, Corerrerr?"

"Yes. Eluded your grasp. By now he is probably secreted away with that damned Professor, and the two of them are preparing to unleash hell. I say? Where has that unfortunate Scotsman gotten to?"

For Daggerfjord, recognizing at length Colonel Snack of the RCMM, chose this time to exit the scene, by rolling slowly toward the thick foliage until ensconced in a massive fern, a maneuver made much easier after he detached his artificial left arm. He knew that the blood trail he left would make it quite clear where he went, so he sidled through the underbrush and into a small stream. Making a small raft out of two elephant magnolia leaves, strands of his hair, and an aluminum canoe, which had fortunately been left next to the stream, he pushed off and floated until he was approximately fifty yards away from the clearing. Then, bellycrawling over the thick jungle loam, he raised himself up on a muddy hillock, to better observe Colonel Snack and see if he could piece this mystery together.

No comments: