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30 October 2009
| "The I Do's of
March"
by M. Mitchell Marmel & E.O. Costello © 2007-9 by M. Mitchell Marmel and E.O. Costello Willow Fawnsworthy, Reggie Buckhorn, Franklin Stagg, Orrin Brush, Leslie duCleds, Kara Karoksdottir, Charles Foster Crane, Inocenta du Cleds (nee de Ciervos), Carlos de Ciervos, Senora de Ciervos © Eric Costello Rosie Baumgartner, © M. Mitchell Marmel Marryin’ Sam and Lulubelle Mae Brunswick © E.O Costello and M. Mitchell Marmel Brenda and Covina Johnson © Walter D. Reimer Part Ten
Rosie: Things calmed down after lunch. Both my paws and Vicky’s were a bit pruny from doing dishes. Who knew that Meeting Island had so many government types? Nonetheless, I was happy as a clam. Luchow’s was open again, and already doing good business. The sound of coins in the cash register was sweet music. “Rosie?” “Yes, Vicky?” “You gotta come out and see this.” I stepped out into the biergarten (there were a few diners out there, enjoying the mild weather) to see Brush coming in, two younger foxes in tow. I mean, ‘in tow.’ He was dragging them by their ears. “C’mon, yez troublemakers, here we are,” Brush said as he dragged the two smaller foxes into the restaurant before letting go of them. “Rosie, here’s them handyfurs I told yez about.” “Uh-huh,” I said, looking them over. The family resemblance was obvious. “Cousins of yours?” “Nah. Dese are my younger brudders, B’onss – “ he smacked the slightly larger of the two across the back of the head, eliciting a yowl “ – and K’nutt. I figures yez can use ‘em.” “Is this some kind of joke?” “Nah, I ain’t jokin’ wit’ yez, Rosie. My Ma’s had it up ta here wit’ dese lamebrains – “ “Aw, c’mon Karok,” B’onss suddenly put in. “I'm tellin' yez, iffen dere was a shortage a' thunderpots, we'da been sittin' pretty." Brush smirked. "Well, dere ain't no shortage, so yer squattin' ugly. Well, Rosie, I’ll leave ‘em here wit’ yez.” “Not so fast there, Sergeant.” I had just remembered something. “I haven’t said yes yet. Now, I heard a little about the, um, commode business from the Inspector. These are the two?” “Yeah.” “Okeh. So,” I asked B’onss, “what are you good for? What can you do?” The little fox puffed himself up. “I’m good wit’ tools, an’ I can fix machines. Real good too, only a few extra parts left over.” I immediately resolved to let only a professional look after the gas stove. I didn’t want Luchow’s becoming the first restaurant on Mars. “Okeh. Anything else?” “Yeah! I gots a knowledge o’ mathematics that’s real gruesome! I can help yez with yer daily receipts.” “For right now, I need a dishwasher and a strong set of paws. I’m thinking of starting you at four shillings an hour.” B’onss looked like I’d just shot his dog. “Four! I’m wort’ three, at least!” I gave Brush a sidelong look, while Vicky tittered. “You think so? Three and ninepence.” “Ya tryin’ ta pull one over on me? I said three, an’ I meant it!” The sergeant was trying hard not to laugh. It was increasingly obvious to me that Kara had all the brains among the Brush children. “Three and six, and that’s final.” “Done!” B’onss said triumphantly. “Ya want th’ check now or later?” Now it was my turn not to laugh. “Later will be fine.” I turned to K’nutt, who was busily searching his left ear for something. I’m glad he wasn’t a fennec, or he’d be trying to climb in like it was a sleeping bag. “How much do you usually get paid, K’nutt?” “Uhh . . . t-t-ten.” I almost poked a finger in my own ear. “Ten? Shillings? Not pounds, surely.” “C-c-cocoanuts.” “Cocoanuts?! Why?” There was a short pause as Dimwit Number Two pulled his finger out of his ear. “I l-l-likes cocoanuts.” I stared at him. “You know,” I murmured almost to myself, “if you had a forehead, I bet it’d be a high one.” “Uhh, I d-don’t know about th-that. I’m f-fraid o’ heights.” I sighed and guided them to Nick for supervision. When they were safely out of earshot, I grabbed Durian Face by the sleeve. “You DO realize that I’m going to get you for this,” I hissed in his ear. “This is a RESTAURANT, not a juvenile reformatory.” Durian Face chuckled. “Cheer up, Rosie. They ain’t really dangerous. Pop gave ‘em a choice – get a job or help out their Ma.” “I imagine helping out their mother was the worse of the two alternatives.” He nodded. “I gotta be headin’ back.” “One moment. I wanna ask yez a favor.” “Hanh?” “Leslie duCleds wanted to tell you that he’d be honored to have you be one of the ushers in his wedding.” “Me?” He started to laugh. “That’s rich. Me in a fancy tux an’ all? No way.” “Father Merino didn’t seem to think so,” I said, playing the ace I’d been dealt. “He also asked for you.” The look on Brush’s face was priceless. I patted him on the head, directed him to the tailor’s shop on Casino Island and snickered a bit as he took a slightly dazed leave. I walked back into the kitchen to see B’onss washing the dishes, and Nick sharpening one of his knives. “Where’s K’nutt, Nick?” “I sent him upstairs. Those crates, they need to be shifted, nu?” “Good thinking.” What the two youngest Brush children lacked in brains, I hoped they made up for in brawn. I headed back out and checked on my diners. Their verdict: The food was excellent, and the floor show was pretty good, too. next |