| "Batchelor(ette)
Party(ing)"
by M. Mitchell Marmel & E.O. Costello © 2010 by M. Mitchell Marmel and E.O. Costello Willow Fawnsworthy, Reggie Buckhorn, Franklin Stagg, Orrin Brush, and Leslie duCleds, © Eric Costello Rosie Baumgartner, Inocenta duCleds (nee de Ciervos) Marryin’ Sam and Lulubelle Mae Brunswick © M. Mitchell Marmel Ranua Milikonu, Lisa Fallingwater, and Brenda and Covina Johnson © Walter D. Reimer Katie MacArran and Heloise the Huntress © J. T. Urie Chapter Nine
I was sipping at the last bottle of Nootnops Red when the phone started ringing in the outer office. Sergeant Brush (who had sat out the game after losing a few hours earlier) got up to answer it. After a few minutes he came back, with an odd look on his face. “What’s going on, Orrin?” Chief Sapper asked. The fox shook his head. “We gots to close down th’ party, Chief. Buncha constables bringin’ in ‘bout forty-five furs fer drunk an’ disorderly.” Reggie and I looked at each other. Oh, hell. “Let me guess, Sergeant,” I said. “The motor yacht ‘Happy Trails?’” “An’ six sailors off Moonie.” Brush sighed. “I gotta wake up Jack an’ send ‘im off somewheres else,” he said. “We need th’ space.” “Under the circumstances,” Reggie said, “I rather think the party’s over.” I had no choice but to agree, and helped bundle the Baron and Marryin’ Sam out of the room. Two constables agreed (after sufficient monetary suasion) to escort them to their respective homes. ***
The scene in the courtroom was one only slightly reminiscent of the previous Christmas, where there was one drunk (viz., one Mr. Leslie duCleds), one trespasser (viz., Yours Truly, one Mr. Reginald Buckhorn), and several extremely pleased young ladies (led by one Miss Debra Lamm, and amply supported by her compatriots). Magistrate Spaniel had been very displeased and even distraught at the testimony on that memorable day. This day, however, threatened to top last Christmas’ record. In the dock – in fact, overflowing it – were many of the same young ladies (recidivism is rife here), several of the Naval Syndicate chappies, and several other individuals who had faced the majesty of the Law in the past, up to and including my bride-to-be, viz., La Fawnsworthy. “Hear ye! Hear ye!” the bailiff shouted, eliciting a few moans of pain from the dock as Magistrate Spaniel entered and took his seat. “Hmmph,” the canine said as he adjusted his glasses and glared at the docket. “Call the first case, Bailiff,” he growled. Clearly, storm clouds were threatening on the horizon. “The case of the Althing versus Lisa Fallingwater!” the bailiff fairly shouted, and a tall vixen staggered to her feet and stood swaying as the magistrate read the affidavits. ***
“Ambassadress Fallingwater?” The judge looked surprised. I was way past caring at this point. I raised a paw and waved it feebly at him. “Please, not so loud.” The same paw was used to rub the back of my aching head. “Of course, Ma’am,” Spaniel said. “Since you appear to be the most respectable person among this lot, I shall ask you a few questions.” He reread a portion of the docket. “It says here that you were attending a ‘bachelorette party’ aboard the motor vessel ‘Happy Trails.’ Is that so?” He took my grunt as a “Yes.” “According to the police one young lady – “ he gaped at the name and gasped in shock, “With a MELON?! AGAIN!?” Rosie, my busty cheetah friend who had had the idea for this shindig, spoke up. “She’s graduated to pumpkins, Your Honor – “ “I don’t want to hear about it.” Spaniel paused to collect himself and said, “Ambassadress Fallingwater, is it not true that you threw a constable overboard while yelling ‘Everybody into the pool?’” “Well, that guy started it.” I waved a paw at the guy. “He started having people heaved into the water to sober them up, so I tossed him in too.” I shrugged. “Seemed like the only thing to do at the time.” “Hmmph. Since you freely admit assaulting the person of Sergeant Malakana, I find you guilty. However, because of your diplomatic position, I shall only fine you five hundred pounds. I’ve received a note from the Foreign Ministry that your government is waiving immunity.” He banged the gavel with what appeared to be unnecessary vehemence. “While you’re at it, Judge, can you get someone to find my clarinet? One of the girls took it and – “ ***
Miss Fallingwater then proceeded to explain in some truly graphic detail exactly what the young lady in question had done with it, while many of the young ladies in the dock tittered and many of the men (Yours Truly included) flushed red in embarrassment. Spaniel’s ears went straight down and stayed there. With a visible effort he said, “The boat will be searched. Sergeant Malakana, where is the ‘Happy Trails’ now?” “Run aground, Your Honor, on a sandbar off of South Island.” Several people giggled, only to gasp in pain again when the gavel struck the Bench. “Miss Fallingwater, pay the clerk on the way out. Next case, Bailiff.” ***
“Allo?” came a cheerful hail from the dock. I leaned forward in my seat. Heads turned and several furs groaned as a pregnant doe waved a paw and stood up. “Who are you?” Spaniel growled. “I am Senora Inocenta du Cleds,” my beloved replied, “and you are the not-nice judge for being so mean to La Ambassadress. Here is she, playing well the mouth-music with her horn while other make the merry.” She glared at the Court, who returned the look. “You MEAN!” “Mrs. du Cleds,” Spaniel grated, “have you been drinking?” “Si,” came the flat reply. “Inocenta drinkie but not too much because of the fine son in her belly from her Leslie-puppy. Yoo-hoo, Leslie-puppy!” and she waved cheerily at me. I waved back. What else could I do? “Inocenta content to drink the muy poquito and watch the party. Inocenta have some fun, too, when the girl with the pumpkin – “ “I don’t wish to hear anything about that!” Spaniel snapped. “Well then, if you’re not charged with being drunk, you’re probably in for being disorderly . . . aha!” he said, exultantly flourishing an affidavit. He scanned it quickly and said, “It says here you started shouting ‘Hark!’ and throwing shoes at the constables when they boarded.” “Si. Inocenta member of a fine old family, we fight for the King and Country long time. De Ciervoses fought British at Trafalgar.” I hadn’t known that. I’ll bet Reggie didn’t, either. This brought a further intensification of the already looming thunderhead crossing the brows of the Court. “So you were repelling boarders, is that it?” he asked in a threatening tone. At Inocenta’s cheerful nod Spaniel said, “Since Spain’s grievances are a matter for Geneva and not this Court, I find you guilty of disorderly conduct, and fined 100 pounds. Take her away, Constable.” Inocenta was led away as gracefully and politely as the constable could, under the circumstances, which included the necessity of bearing a drumbeat of paws on noggin. I absented myself from the gallery in order to pay her fine and calm her down. Again. ***
When the last screamed epithet in Spanish was eclipsed by the door closing, the bailiff cried, “The Althing versus Willow Fawnsworthy, Rosalie Baumgartner, et al!” and my beloved and Rosie fought to their feet, supporting each other as they stepped forward. “So, Miss Baumgartner,” Spaniel said in a severe tone, “here you are again, although not as the defense counsel. What have you to say?” The cheetah smiled through her hangover and said, “We were just giving Willow here a proper sendoff – “ “That would be Miss Fawnsworthy,” Spaniel interjected, flipping through the affidavits. “Ah, yes, now I recall the name. I expected to see your fiancé in the dock with you, since I placed him into your custody. I’m sure he had something to do with this. Bailiff, where is Reginald Buckhorn?” “Here, Your Honor!” I stood up and waved cheerfully from the gallery. My attempt at cheer was completely wasted on the Court. “Where were you last night, Mr. Buckhorn?” “At a positively spiffing little get-together at the Meeting Island jail, Your Honor, celebrating the impending nuptials between yours truly and Miss Fawnsworthy.” “Aha! At the jail, eh? How is it, then, that you are not there in the dock?” I gave the beak my best smile angelic. “Because I have not been charged with anything, Your Honor. I was playing cards and conversing, I say, with that most reputable of bucks, Inspector Stagg. Not to mention the other members of the Big Six of the Spontoon Islands Constabulary.” Spaniel frowned at that, and looked around until he spied Stagg seated to my left. “Inspector, is this true?” The Redoubtable Rozzer stood and replied, “It is, Your Honor. I can state, under oath, that Mr. Buckhorn committed no crime last night, other than bluffing Sergeant Brush out of a pot with a pair of fours.” The Court was unimpressed at my feat, and his countenance showed it clearly. “And Miss Fawnsworthy has a spotless record – or did, up until tonight.” He clasped his paws together and bowed his head, either praying for strength or marshalling his thoughts, no one could be certain, as he was moving his lips rather frantically. “Willow Fawnsworthy,” he finally intoned, “in light of the charges against you – that of public drunkenness – this Court finds you guilty and imposes a fine of two hundred pounds. Since your influence apparently has reformed your fiancé, I shall allow him this one chance to return the favor, and remand you into his custody – “ he broke off and glared at the gallery as I started clapping. “Shut up, Mr. Buckhorn.” “Righto, Your Honor.” “I said shut up.” “Oh, quite.” “SHUT UP SHUTTING UP! And as for you, Miss Baumgartner, you and your – colleagues – are fined 1500 pounds for lewd conduct, ninety days in jail, and a further 500 for maintaining a hazard to navigation.” He raised the gavel to close the case when a voice cut through the silence. "Now, Ah say, now ya’ll just wait a minute there, Suh. There ain't no call for sendin' these fine young flowers o' womenhood off to th' pokey." The storm broke at that point. "Who the hell are you?" Spaniel fairly shrieked. "Ah, Suh?" The armadillo puffed himself up. "Why, Ah'm Marryin' Sam Brunswick, and Ah'm the, Ah say Ah'm the Ambassa-door of the Yew-nited States to your fair country." "I see," Spaniel growled. "No, I don't see. Why are you poking your scaly nose into these proceedings?" This didn’t sit well with Marryin’ Sam, who was still wrapped up in the folds of his Old Overcoat. “Now, hold on, son. Ain't no cause t'be DE-scendin' into personalities. Less'n y'all want some frank opinions on mah part.” He grinned. “Shucks, though, Yore Honor, t’ain’t nothin' Ah ain't seen back home in Arkansas." "My GOD, it isn't?" "Gets sorta dull after football season's over, y'know." Even the bailiffs had to snicker about that. "Don't pay me no neverminds, son. Ah'm broad-minded." "And broad-bottomed," came a comment from the gallery. Marryin’ Sam took the jab in stride. "Now, now, I did say y'all don't de-scend into personalities, heah? I ain’t got nothin’ t’hide - " A voice interjected itself from the gallery. “Neither does Miss Fallingwater!” Which prompted another voice: “Don't get any ideas from her, Sam!” And, of course, a third person had to make their opinion known: “Yeah, we just had breakfast!” Spaniel slammed his gavel down hard enough to send the head of the hammer spinning off. An alert bailiff fielded the errant pitch, eliciting scattered applause from the gallery. “One more outburst from you, sir,” Spaniel grated, “and this Court will find you in contempt.” “Of what, Suh?” “Contempt of this Court, you!” Magistrate Spaniel seemed to grow more agitated. Marryin’ Sam stuck out his chest and hooked his thumbs into his braces. "Ah'm a fine judge of court proceedin's. Judge. Court proceedins. That's a joke, son. Now, y'all ain't showin' proper RE-spect for these here fine young ladies..." Spaniel rose from his seat slowly and pointed a shaking paw at the armadillo. Several furs took the opportunity to get out of the line of fire, lest they too be struck. "Bailiff ..." the old dog quavered, "arrest that man and take him away..." “Which one, Your Honor?” “HIM! HIM!” ”Well, Your Honor's paw is shaking. I mean, you're pointing at ME, too!” Another pronounced titter erupted from the dock, and Spaniel stopped moving. His jaws worked silently for a moment. His eyes then rolled back in his head and he collapsed behind the Bench. "Shucks," Sam said, "high-strung feller ain't he? Little bit o' corn squeezins won't do him no harm.” I had to admit I was impressed. Not even on my best day had I managed to get the judge to faint dead away. ***
There was a delay as the understudy, Magistrate de Pathe, was brought in to replace Magistrate Spaniel, who had to be carried out from behind the Bench and taken home. He was unconscious. I wished I was, too. This wasn’t going to be pleasant. There was the end of the previous case to determine first, so the Magistrate reviewed the case documents. “I think we can forego the jail time,” he said, and after the cheers died down added, “since there was no property damage and no one was injured. The fines will stand, however. Next case, Bailiff?” “The Althing versus Ensign Ranua Milikonu, et al!” was announced, and I stood up and stepped forward. My cap was missing and my jumpsuit – well, some of the stains on it were interesting ones. The only consolation was that the rest of my first command were in the same situation, although some of them had been reduced to their underwear. The door opened, and I found myself praying. Captain Maxwell, with several shore patrol furs right behind him. Yes, it was not going to be pleasant. Captain Maxwell walked up to the bench, and him and de Pathe had a whispered conference. Ian then glared at me. It was like a slap to the face. “It would appear from this testimony, Ensign,” the rooster said, “that you did your duty by boarding an adrift and possibly hazardous craft. However, you allowed yourself to be led astray by the party then in progress, and set a bad example for your crew. “Your commander has interceded on your behalf and that of your crew, so this Court will remand you all to his custody.” The shore patrol furs started rounding up the guys. I hung back, and de Pathe asked, “Do you have anything to say?” “Yes, sir. Can’t you just shoot me and get it over with?” At the Court’s expression, I just sighed and walked out, followed by the Captain. ***
“Reggie, dear?” “Yes, Willow?” We had repaired to my digs at Shepherd’s to get freshened up for lunch at the l’Etoile. I could tell that, even through her hangover, my inamorata was in the grip of some definite emotions. “I – we – have a request.” I nodded encouragement and Willow went on, “We’ve all been in court far too many times, and most of the time it’s related to someone drinking.” “True for telling,” I conceded. “I know I imposed a one-drink maximum on you, Reggie darling. I want you to impose a similar restriction on me.” I must have looked surprised at this, and Willow soldiered on before I could say anything. “I mean it, Reggie. We have only two more days until the wedding, and I want nothing to happen between now and then. We need to be each other’s safeguard.” I found nothing to say to that, except to give my bride-to-be a kiss and ask her, “Hmmm. What kind of grapefruit juice goes with acorn omelettes, white or pink?” ***
“Leslie-puppy?” “Si, mi amor?” “You have not the anger at you Inocenta?” I must have gaped at her. “Why should I be angry at you?” My darling doe looked a bit contrite, although that may have been the poisons still swimming in her bloodstream. “For having too much of the drinkie, and the throwing of the shoes at the policefurs.” I took my wife in my arms and showed her exactly how I felt about her conduct. ***
“Flowers!” Miri exclaimed. I gave her the bouquet and did my best to smile as she sniffed the blooms. It had been Inspector Stagg’s idea, as a way of apologizing to Miri for what happened last night. Of course, I had also been restricted to base and fined, but I figured I could tell her later when I figured out the best way to bring the subject up. Of course, she would have to ask. “It’s awfully sweet of you, Ranua, but why?” That took a bit of explaining. While I hemmed and hawed she set the flowers aside and leaned close, sniffing at me. When I finally finished she was glaring at me. Miri looked down at me as I sat down, my head in my paws. “So,” she said, “you look into a problem, and you end up covered in scents.” She suddenly smiled. “I know what needs to be done,” and she suddenly grabbed me by the paw. “Come on.” “Where are we going?” “To make sure there’s one scent on you that you’ll never forget,” she said as she dragged me upstairs to her room. You’ll have to figure out for yourselves what happened next. ***
“AMBASSA-UNDRESS CAUGHT AT PARTY!” screamed the headline in the Mirror. The picture of me enjoying a good wrassle was professional quality. No mistaking it. I’m going to have to ask around (discreetly) to find my underwear. Needless to say, the Embassy Syndic wasn’t happy, and I knew that the Foreign Syndic herself in Seathl would be even less happy (even without seeing the pictures). I submitted to an hour-long tail-chewing by the Syndic (nice going, Bobby; you’ll be in for it on our next date) before one of the code clerks came in with a telegram for me. “It’s from Seathl, Lisa,” he said. I lifted the icepack off my forehead and squinted at it: AMBASSA UNDRESS BETTER KEEP HER TAILFUR CLEAN FROM NOW ON STOP LOOKING FORWARD TO HEARING ABOUT PARTY STOP SOUNDS LIKE IT WAS FUN STOP JOHNSON FOREIGN SYNDIC ENDS That was fast. The telegram had been sent in the clear, too. As Rosie’s fond of saying, “Oy.” ***
“Well, Lodge, it’s been an eventful few days, hasn’t it?” “Indeed, Sir.” “Still,” I waxed philosophical, “things turned out well for everyone concerned.” “Almost everyone, Sir.” “Oh yes. Magistrate Spaniel and Andre. Well, things turned out well for everyone who matters.” “Quite so, Sir.” “And now one more day, and then a splendid wedding. What could possibly go wrong?” I would rather Mr. Buckhorn didn’t tempt Fate like that.
(end of this story section - to be continued) |
