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2 December 2007
| "Valentines Dazed"
by E.O. Costello, M. Mitchell Marmel, & Walter D. Reimer All
characters © their respective creators
Chapter 23Reginald had only been told to provide the presence of his one and only inamorata in the bar at Shepherd's, four o'clock on the dot. Everything else was a closed book to one and the same Reginald, for some reason. It was thus quite a shock when I walked into the place whose tables I had frequented. Both above and below. The whole place had been transformed. Each of the tables had a starched linen tablecloth with a bowl of flowers. In fact, there were flowers everywhere, including the one long table where normally a free lunch resides of an afternoon. I peered at this table. In the place of the salted acorns, clam fritters, fried squid and the cold collation, there were a large number of gaily wrapped packages, blue packages done up in pink bows, and pink packages done up in blue bows. Upon entering, Willow had received a round of applause, and she had been immediately surrounded by all manner of very nicely dressed femmefurs, who hugged her, smooched her cheeks, and congratulated her. Toby Trotter, who had (naturally) discovered that there was an open bar, weaved up to me, and put a hoof around my shoulders. "Reggie, old bean, I didn't think you had it in you. Of course, Willow's the one that has it in her now, eh what?" This was followed by a burst of equine laughter, and a thump on the back that nearly reversed my spine with my ribs. Senor de Ciervos and Baron von Kojote were there, with their respective mates. The ladies greeted me warmly. Baron von Kojote gave me a broad wink, and commended my diligence. Senor de Ciervos, for his part, glowered at me under his eyebrows, and merely launched a "pouf!" in my general direction. This was all very puzzling, at first. I decided a bit of the feedbag was in order, and I headed over to another table, where there was something under a large square silver cover. I lifted same, and the following met my gaze: What appeared to be a large carrot cake. Jolly good. Said carrot cake having what looked like nearly a half-inch of frosting. Jolly good! Said frosting having piped on it the image, in milk chocolate with spots of vanilla, the image of a whitetail deer fawn, all surrounded by the words "Congratulations Willow and Reggie" on it. It took some work, let me tell you, to replace the cover, what with shaking paw and all. Luckily, I had replaced the cover when I felt the heavy thump of a paw on my shoulder. Looking off to the side, I found that the paw was definitely ram-like. I quickly covered my ears, which unfortunately tied up my paws, leaving the form of Father Augustus Merino, S.J., to turn me around, and glare balefully at me from a distance of about six inches. "Mr. Buckhorn, you have some explaining to do." "Whuh?" "Let me elucidate: what have you done to Miss Fawnsworthy?" "Whuh?" "For the love of all that is holy, Mr. Buckhorn, will you say something intelligible?" "Dashed sorry, old man, but I can't make out a word you're saying. I have my paws over my ears." *****
"*REGINALD!!!!!!!!*" This was met by a loud, startled yelp from across the room, caused by the self being towed by Father Merino, using a handy ear. This apparently seemed like a good idea to La Fawnsworthy, and she took hold of the ear. Passing the torch, as it were. "Okeh, bright boy. You've got exactly thirty words or less to explain yourself." I gulped and gave it the old Penn try. "Itwasn'tmeWillowitwasn'tmeyou havetobelievemeIdidn'tsetupthisparty Iwasonlyaskedtobringyouherehonest Ididn'tyouhavetobelieve methisthingisasmucha ballyshocktomeasitistoyou Idon'tknowhowthisallgotstarted." The cavalry, in the person of Dr. Meffit, rode to my rescue. In a manner of speaking. "But Mr. Buckhorn, you specifically asked me about whether it was unusual for does to eat poi and why they would be so concerned about counting off the days. I'm very sorry if I am mistaken, Mr. Buckhorn, but you must understand, one draws the inevitable conclusion from such questions. Especially when they are asked about, quote, a friend, unquote." Willow blinked. "But how did we get from Point A, the top of Reggie's head, to Point B, this shindig?" Meffit tugged at the collar of his shirt, a bit embarrassed. "Well, you know, Miss Fawnsworthy, furs *will* talk..." La Fawnsworthy gave my ear a slight twist. "For heaven's sake, Reggie. Just what *are* you playing at? Whatever gave you such a zany set of ideas to land in that vast, uncharted wilderness of your skull?" "(*gulp*) I decline to answer that, on the grounds that the response will tend to incriminate me." "You are going to answer that question, on the grounds that a lack of response will tend to infuriate *me*." A slight twist of my ear convinced me that it would be Best To Tell All. "Errrrr. I thought Inocenta might be pregnant." You could have heard a pin drop in the room. Leslie duCleds: "Don't be an ass, Reggie. How could that be true?" Carlos de Ciervos: "What? Foooof! Rubbish! You say that to Carlos' face, again!" Heinrich von Kojote: "Ho-ho-ho! You have placed the hoof in it, my young friend." Inocenta de Ciervos: "Pouf! Is true, of course. Inocenta carry with the great pride the child of her beloved Leslie-puppy." ... My word. *****
Me? ME?!? A father?!? I'll be God-damned. Wow! That's...oh-oh. What's her father going to... *****
After Inocenta delivered that little bit of front page news, Willow forgot about my ear, and looked moonstruck at Inocenta. Les was looking deeply lovestruck at Inocenta. Carlos de Ciervos was looking thunderstruck. *****
What? Who? How can this? What? My little Inocenta. This ... this ... this ... pouf! DOGGIE! What he do to my sweet, my virginal Inocenta? What he...?!? *****
I looked over at my father-in-law-to-be, and was calculating whether I was going to break some sort of record for brevity in the son-in-law stakes. He was turning redder, and redder, and then a bright purple, with his mustache quivering. He was also making frantic choking sounds, and clenching his paws over and over. He began to quiver like a bowl of Jello. I didn't think General Foods made Jello in the flavor of Angry Castilian Buck. Things began to reach a crescendo, when all of a sudden he dropped to his knees, gripped his ears, and began to bawl wholeheartedly. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh! My little Inocenta! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Why I learn like this? Por que? Poooorrrrrrrr que? Madre de Dios, why do I go mad from the does all the time? POR QUEEEEEEEEE?" *****
Ah! Poor Papi. He look so overcome by the news he become Granpapi soon. Inocenta know exactly the doing, she does. "Do not derange with yourself, Papi. This is the most wonderful, the best thing to happen to Inocenta, ever! She have the child of her beloved Leslie-puppy. Imagine, please, Papi, this wonderful child. You will be the Granpapi of the best, the most brightest, the most charming Reddy Blue El Presidente ever!" *****
I'll be God-damned. I'll be God-damned. Hey, how did they pipe the pink fog in here? Someone's earned a tip. *****
Inocenta pitty-pat her Papi on his head, and give the big kiss on his nosie. "Please, Papi, do not be the derange. Inocenta already know that her precious Leslie-puppy wants Inocenta forever and ever as the mate. He will do the thing that is correct and loving for her Inocenta." *****
Yup. Yup. Yup. Hunh? *****
At this point, Inocenta broke off from her father, and embraced her Leslie-puppy. It's questionable whether the latter could tell what was going on, as he had a glazed look in his eyes, and a rather goofy smile on his phiz. Normally, it takes me at least five G&Ts to get that way. Or did, once upon a time. Baron von Kojote rocked a bit on his heels, and gave a wistful sigh. "Ach, mein liebe Sofia, it is very much the wonderful to see such two happy young furs in love, and with the kinder arriving already! I am envying you greatly, Herr duCleds." The Baronin turned to her mate, and eyed him closely. "Why are you envious, Heinrich?" The Baron looked sad, and made a silent rocking motion with arms, and shrugged. The Baronin smiled at the Baron, and kept smiling at him. The Baron stared back, puzzled. The Baronin smiled back, enigmatically. The Baron made a rocking motion with his arms, enquiringly. The Baronin smiled back, enigmatically. The Baron looked at his mate, slack-jawed, as his monocle popped out from his eye, and swung free on its cord. After opening and closing his jaw a few times, he finally found voice, in the form of a thunderous, joyous howl. It was one giant stride over to the table on which the drinks assortment was laid out. Over it went with a crash, followed by a thunderous bellow to the staff demanding the house's supply of its best vintage champagne. The staff decided that it was in their best long-term interests to cooperate with all speed, and the requisite chilled bottles were brought out. *****
Whuh? Oh. Right. Pup for Heinrich. Yeah. Good for him. I. Hum. Oh, yeah. I really ought to be doing something. Clear away this pink fog...ah, that's better... *****
Les, in the fine old manner, turned to Inocenta, and slowly went down on one knee before her. He closed his eyes, thought for a minute, and then was on the verge of saying something, when he was brought up short, and began to pat his pockets, absently. *****
It was at the point when I was on bended knee, that I remembered that one of the essential elements of a marriage proposal was missing. That is to say, the ring. I was starting to regret the spontaneous nature of my gesture when I heard Reggie clearing his throat a few feet away, and trying to get my attention. I fixed him a good, hard look. "Make those words good ones, Reggie. If they're stupid, they WILL be your last." If Reggie was going to suggest cigar bands or such, there was going to be venison on the buffet menu. Reggie was pointing at his right paw, and giving me a stage whisper. "Your ring, Les." I stage whispered back. "I don't HAVE a ring, you brainless twit." Reggie wasn't deterred, and pointed toward his right paw. "I mean, that is, your Penn ring." Of all the... "You want me to propose using my college ring?! Are you out of what passes for your..." "Leslie-puppy?" Inocenta seemed to want to voice an opinion. I turned back to her, or, rather, up to her, since she had the height advantage, me being on my knee and all. "Inocenta think it the idea wonderful to use the Reddy Blue ringie for you Inocenta." I was astonished. Reggie Buckhorn had come up with an intelligent suggestion. The mind reeled. I could only stare, slack-jawed, at my very-shortly-to-be fiancée, who was merely grinning warmly at me. "Inocenta know the Reddy Blue ringie is personal for her Leslie-puppy. What is it that could be the more appropriate for making the love-sign to Inocenta?" I looked down at my paw. She had me there, all right. "Um. Inocenta? I mean, I'm happy to do it, but it's traditional for engagement rings to have diamonds in it, and..." Inocenta giggled. "Pouf! What is it about the love of Inocenta and Leslie-puppy that is for being the traditional? Is there anything in you love for Inocenta that is the tradition?" She had me there, for the second time in fifteen seconds. I slowly worked the ring off my ring finger. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, took another deep breath, opened them again, and looked up at Inocenta. "Si. I make the marriage with you, Leslie-puppy." I blinked. Talk about your lack of tradition. Inocenta got down on both her knees, took both of my paws in hers, and kissed each one of them. She then took the ring, and carefully slid it over her thumb, the only finger it would fit on. She admired the effect for a minute, and then turned back to me. "You make the marriage with your Inocenta, yes?" I think I managed to stammer out a yes before Inocenta leaned in and gave me a good scorcher of a kiss. Odd. Willow told me later everyone in the room cheered and clapped. I didn't hear that. The only thing I could hear was the sound of Inocenta's heart beating. *****
A few of the braver (but still embarrassed) femmefurs approached Willow quietly, and asked if it was all right to split the presents they had bought for Willow and myself between Inocenta and Sofia. Willow cheerfully gave permission. She looked a little more wistful and sad, as she saw the cake, sans cover, being sent to the kitchen for some slight adjustments. It wasn't hard to figure out what was crossing her mind, even for me. *****
The paterfamilias of the de Ciervos clan was glumly sipping at a flute of champagne, sprawled in a chair in the far corner of the room. The whole day had been pretty hard on him, and he was already well into his sixth flute. Fortunately, it appeared as though he was coming to grips with current events. Les went over and held a long whispered conversation with the old buck, and eventually they shook paws. So, it would appear we had Peace In Our Time. Appearances could deceive, mind you, since at that moment, we had a party crasher. Namely, one large stork, yclept Bernie Phlute. He trotted into the party, and craned his neck about, looking for someone. That someone turned out to be Carlos de Ciervos, and he trotted up cheerfully to the proud (?) papa, who merely gave him a vinegary look. "Pouf! What you want?" Phlute put a few feathers in his lapel and puffed out his chest. "I've come to make mah report!" Papa looked confused and irritated. "Report?! Report?! What is it, this report you are making to me? Why you make report?" "Welllll, you hired Minkerton's to investigate whether there was any funny business going on between Leslie duCleds and your daughter Inocenta, right?" This report was being made orally, in tones that could be heard across the room, especially since it had gone quiet. Mercifully, Inocenta merely giggled, and Les gave a wry look. Senora de Ciervos eyed her mate carefully, and it was clear there were going to be words later. Senor de Ciervos acknowledged the truth of this through gritted teeth. "Si. I make the hiring of youself. I am bitterly regretting this foolishness..." "Wellllllll, now I wouldn't fret none about that, Mr. de Ciervos. You left everything to ol' Bernie Phlute, and ol' Bernie Phlute came up with the goods." "You what? What is it, these goods of which you are speaking to me, Carlos de Ciervos?" "The goods. The info. The ol' G-2 on Leslie duCleds and your daughter." Daddy Deerest flattened his ears, and glared at my fellow operative. "Oh-ho. And how is it you are finding things, yes?" More chest-puffing from Bernie. "Wellllll, lemme tellya. Everything is A-Okeh, hunkydory and no problemo between Leslie duCleds and your daughter. Nope, no siree, he hasn't touched your daughter. You won't be having any surprises coming from that quarter, betcher bottom dollar." At this point, Bernie's expression changed slightly, to confusion. This was largely because Carlos de Ciervos was making strangled, spluttering sounds in his chair, and his mustache was quivering up and down. "Well, fer gosh sakes, Mr. de Ciervos, it's not like he's made her pregnant or anything..." They train those Minkerton chappies in quick reflexes. This was a Good Thing, since Carlos de Ciervos bolted out of his chair with an inarticulate roar of rage, and made a grab for Bernie's throat. Bernie took to his heels, with Papa about one-half step behind him. The last we saw of that pair, they were zipping across the lawn of the Grand. Long stork legs plus fear were evenly matched against cervine bounding and rage. I turned to my personal Minkerton's agent. "Are you going to report this?" La Fawnsworthy nodded solemnly. "In due course. Say, tomorrow morning, when I have more information..." *****
Let's see... Five flutes of champagne? Check. Many rounds of congratulations from all and sundry? Check. My father-in-law otherwise occupied in trying to brain (?) a Minkerton's op? Check. My fiancée, paw in paw with me, and nuzzling my ear? Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh. Life is *good*. *****
Reggie was leaning against the wall, nursing a glass of orange juice. I noticed he had switched back almost immediately, once Inocenta and Les had proposed to each other. He was certainly in far better shape that Baron Heinrich von Kojote, who had long since fallen asleep under a large table, cradling a champagne bottle in his paws and giggling softly to himself. "Eventful party, wasn't it Reggie?" Reggie acknowledged the question, by taking my paw and gently squeezing it. I slipped my free paw around his waist and squeezed him back. There was only one thing to say, at this point. “I love you, Reggie.” He smiled warmly down at me. “I love you too,” and he leaned down and whispered in my ear, “both of you, y’know.” His expression grew a bit troubled, and he mumbled at his hooves, "Not exactly a pleasant surprise, and on a Valentine’s Day, either. I suppose – well, I suppose that deciding to wait until we’re, um, married ..." *****
Somewhat to my surprise, I was cut off by a paw yanking on my tie, and leading me off to a quiet hallway. Willow didn't let go of my tie, but pulled me down to her level, so that we were muzzle-to-muzzle. "I'll tell you exactly what I suppose, Reginald Buckhorn. It was a surprise, yes, but it ended well for everyone concerned.” I discounted Bernie Phlute. “And I won’t deny that I haven’t thought about it. If it had happened, I'd be tickled pink by it. Even if we had a fawn on the way before the wedding, I’d still be very, very happy." I blinked at Willow, confused. This was due in part to the fact that the tie, being pulled, was cutting off the blood to my head. Willow cocked her head at me, and gave a crafty and cunning smile. "You don't believe me, Reggie?" "Errr. Uhhhm. Ahhhhh." What those comments lacked in eloquence, they more than made up for in feeling. They were heart-felt expressions of confusion. "All right, Reggie. Believe this." All I can say is, it's a bloody good thing teeth aren't flammable, because Willow did her best to try to scorch them. Another thing I learned is that in a pinch, whitetail does can summon an extra pair of paws from somewhere. And use them jolly vigorously, too. I'm not complaining, mind you. Just observing. After about five minutes, Willow finally finished her exposition. It left me no wiser, but certainly far better informed. It was a slack-jawed and confused buck that watched Willow turn, pause, flick her flag at me a few times (slowly), and trot off gaily. Even if I live to be ninety, I don't think I'm ever going to understand what makes Willow Fawnsworthy tick. *****
If Willow's
hooves hit the floor at any point between leaving Reggie, and hitting
the lobby of Shepherd's, it would have surprised her. The whole
day had been one long exercise in satisfying stimulation. After
all, one can't watch a pair of furs, deeply in love, propose to each
other without one's blood fizzing like a bottle of champagne."As for Reggie," she mused to herself... "Well. It's lucky for him that we've made that promise to each other (I included Grace) to hold things off until the wedding night. (How many days is that? Gah. Waaaay toooo many. I'm always having to wait, wait, wait.) Yes, he's one lucky buck. I'll teach him not to be so shy, and to use those paws of his yet. Silly buck. As for what my paws have learned...well, I've already dealt with that in confession. No harm, no foul, hmmmm?" “Excuse me, Miss? Miss Fawnsworthy, ee-ven.” Nothing like a bucket of cold water to kill the mood. Willow glanced at the lion who held down the front desk. For the life of her, she would never understand why his fur was dyed shocking pink. “What?” He held out the telephone for her, and a frigid weight suddenly sat on her heart. She walked over to him and took the phone. He lingered, as if waiting to catch part of the conversation. Willow gave him a glare that sent him off, stage left. It took everything she had to keep the tremor out of my voice. “Yes?” It was Rosie, sounding happy. “Hiya, kiddo. We just got back and I had to call ya.” We? Willow's heart soared. A silent WHEE! escaped her lips. “He’s just fine, and I wanted you to know – “ Willow didn’t hear the rest of it. She had already heard what her souls – both of them - yearned to hear. Luckily the writing room was vacant, so no one would ask about her crying. *****
When Willow emerged from the writing room some time later, the lobby was quiet, except for one or two couples in some of the darker corners, who were whispering to one another. At least, she thought it was whispering. The dim light made it difficult to say, precisely. The only real light in the lobby was coming from the souvenir shop near the front door, where some grunting and grumbling could be heard. The proprietor was muttering to himself as he stuffed some small sculptures into a large box. Willow looked closer, and saw the sculptures depicted a well-carved pair of native foxes, male and female. There was little left to the imagination as to which one was which. There was also little question as to what they were up to. Birds do it, bees do it, even educated fleas do it. Clearly, the artist had put a lot of...love into this work. The owner saw Willow's interest. "Gah. The uplander on Main Island who sold me these things tells me they're fertility idols. Fertility idols, my foot. I just think it's some native with an all-too-vivid imagination." Willow cocked an eyebrow. "What, you don't believe in idols?" "Bah. I've got a box of forty-nine of them, here. How the hell I'm going to flog these, I'll never know. What crazy Euro is going to buy the story that these have some sort of magic?" Willow went out into the night twenty pounds, ten shillings lighter and two idols heavier. The idols had apparently already worked their magic for the future Mr. and Mrs. duCleds and the Baron and Baronin von Kojote. Who knows what they might be able to do for her? And Reggie? And Rosie? And....Da? "Who believes in magic, he said?" she murmured to herself. Willow Grace Diana Victoria Fawnsworthy Stagg chuckled softly. "I can name a few..." end of this episode |