Spontoon Island
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24 October 2007
| "Valentines Dazed"
by E.O. Costello, M. Mitchell Marmel, & Walter D. Reimer All characters © their respective creators Things having been sorted out with the Department of Red Tape Tripping-Upping, because of (in spite of?) Reggie's intervention, the trip to Honolulu was once again a "go." And since it was a "go," that meant I needed to make the plans for same. Willow, for all practical purposes, was useless for this. She'd been moping around for days and obviously had her mind elsewhere, namely, on Reggie. It's a good thing she had a mind on Reggie, otherwise there wouldn't be one there. I sometimes wonder why the hell I pay that doe the money I do. Oh, well. It's just for another few months, and then she's off my paws and on Reggie's. For efficiency, you can't beat Reggie's man, Lodge. At least I knew that if I told Lodge something, it would get done. I know giving orders to someone else's furservant is a bit much, but I justified it by inviting Reggie (and Willow, of course). Speaking of "and Willow," the doe in question tagged along. She had heard my account of the tête-à-tête with the STSB, and looked deeply concerned. She evidently wanted to check up on the health of her fiancé. Lodge was deeply reluctant to let us both into Reggie's suite. "I regret to say, Sir, that Mr. Buckhorn is not at home." I guffawed, knowing Reggie. "Translation, Lodge: Reggie has a brutal hangover, and is making even less sense than usual." This earned me a pair of reproachful looks from Lodge and Willow, the latter adding a sharp elbow in my ribs. Willow turned to Lodge. "Lodge, I am coming in." "I really think that's most inadvis..." "Lodge, I am coming in." "But Miss Fawnsworthy, I..." "Lodge, the doe who will be your boss in approximately 90 days is coming in." Lodge yielded to that point of argument, sighed, and motioned us both in. Willow, with unerring sense, trotted off in the direction of the facilities. I talked plans with Lodge. *****
"Reggie? Can you hear me? It's me, Willow." "Gurglefpgh." "Darling, can you hear me?" “Glarghrph." "Reggie, flick your flag twice if you can hear me." I gave it the old Buckhorn try, but I think it was more like three or four flicks of the flag. Next thing I knew, a pair of lovely paws were stroking my back. It seemed to help a little. "Darling, I know you're feeling bad, right now. Honestly, I didn't mean this to happen..." "Unnnnnnnnnnnnnnnh." "Darling, I'm sorry." "Unhnnnnhnnnnnhhhh." "Reggie, look at me." "Uhhhh. I c-can't." "Why? Are you ashamed?" "N--nuuuh." "Are you angry with me?" "N--nuuuh." "Well, why can't you look at me?" "Unnnh. R-rack...stuck." Willow later told me that it took the three of them to free me from where I'd jammed the old Buckhorn rack in the W.C. Well, really, Lodge and Willow. Les was next to useless, since he was laughing so hard. He got a hoof to the shin, a heartfelt gift from La Fawnsworthy. next |