Free Republic

To those leftists: SCR*W "em! May they rot in hell.

Just saw a report on FOX about this. God bless 'em all!

Unfortunately, with each passing year, it's taking longer for babies to become potty-trained. Since the 1950s, the average age for toilet training has increased from 18 months to nearly four years. That means more diapers and bigger messes.

Hmmmm . . ..

Who is the only person to play for all 3 pro sports teams in 'da 'Burgh?

I have no idea. Help us out, oh enlightened one :)

You're So Sweet"? Who sang that? I do not remember it.

I don't remember either. :) Thought it might rattle some memory sells out there.

Thanks for the info! Appreciate it.

Anyone remember this one?

You're so sweet,
Horseflies keep hangin' round your face,
Kentucky moonshine, could never take your place.
Your two front teeth are missin',
But that's all right for kissin'
. . . . . . .....

No photos!?!

Just a fluke you say?
I've Haddock with these pic-less posts. I cod go on and blow my squid but it would sound pompano on my part.

Reidy admits he exaggerated how often he visited doctors

A Salesman who lied on his call reports? Horrors!

Good evening!

So nice of you all to join me.
Allow me to introduce myself: I am Sir Robert Morley; Actor, Painter and Connoisseur.
Please enter my humble abode. And you, young man, if you would be so kind to close the door behind you.Yes, it does take a bit of effort, as these old castle doors are rather ponderous. Very good. Now if you will please follow me to the sitting room . . ..
Here we are. Please convenient yourselves by a seat near the fire, and indulge yourselves in a tot of this excellent brandy. . ..

Excellent. Now if I may, I shall convey to you the reason for your presence: I have received an invitation to address this soiree by one of the authors of this novel, none other than the Gentleman you refer to as Old Sarge.
And if I may take a moment to inform you, to the delight of the Ladies I am sure, Old Sarge is a very debonair gentleman, exceedingly handsome, and he cut a dashing figure during our meeting with his pipe and smoking jacket.

He wished for me to inform you that despite the fact that he is in the midst of several important tasks, he has continued to work on, and will soon publish, another exciting chapter of this, . . .how you Americans say, Cracker Jack of a story.

So allay your fears, Ladies and Gentlemen, for soon you will once again be enthralled in this most ambrosial mystery, featuring of course, the Fair and newly enlightened Percilla, and the intrepid yet troubled Eason.

And what of Thurgood? Has he, as they say, dropped out of the picture? Or will he reappear at some further date?
Only time will tell.

(1)Well boys, I know you’ve had your fun describing me as a Bullfrog with Glasses. I myself have had a laugh or two thinking of that moniker. However, now is the time for the Bullfrog to inform you to start earning your pay: so turn around and get your ass*s up that F*&^$ng Hill!

(2) Let me see if I understand this:
The French tried and failed.
Now we’re trying and succeeding.
And now the French are upset.
Ask me if I give a Fu&^%$ng Brass Farthing what they think!

(1)Teddy Roosevelt’s last instructions to the rough Riders in San Juan

(2) TR’s response to a reporter's question regarding the Panama Canal

Too many on the left don't think there is anything wrong with men and little boys having sex.

Unfortunatly,(for our Country) I agree with your assessment.

"A damp, chill wind lapped across the transclucent mauve drapes that teased more than a winking glimpse of the morbid gunmetal Moon, whose dull light peeked through black scudding clouds wrapping the fallow fields in a glistening sheen..."

I love it! you have the purple prose perfected, my friend. Keep it up!

"As his dreary eyes dappled upon the desolate deserted dunes, Danial doubted if destiny decreed his doubting desires be denied."

Carefull Jack, as you can see this stuff is addictive. :-)

Yet another chapter of "The Young and The Whatever."
Enjoy.

Before Eason could join her on board he felt a hand on his shoulder.“Laddy,” Father Patrick whispered, “be aware there are forces that are bent on stopping you. Be careful, my son.”

He turned to the Father to inquire further, but was directed in a swift motion to get on board. “He may have more for you. Good luck, and may God be with you both.”

As Eason climbed the short ladder he heard these words emanating from the dory.

Devlesa avilan

________________________________________________

The captain Escorted Percilla below decks, offered tea, which they gracefully accepted.

“You bunk down here,” he said, pointing to adjacent beds on either side of the hull. “First mate’ll be running us. She’s a calm one tonight, thank God. Take us around three hours to reach France.

The captain explained that they will be met by a man, a good man he emphasized, that will escort them on the next leg of their journey.

After finishing their tea, he motioned them into the bunk beds. “Learn to rest when you can,” he said.

The Captain waited until they had settled in, then continued.

“I have information you should know, he said, with a seriousness in voice, “ . . . you have a right - to know.”

He looked toward Eason. “You familiar with the Hun living in your own back yard?

Eason nodded. After the war, a number of German POW’s which were interned in Great Britain elected to stay. They by and large became hard workers, upstanding citizens, and most agreed that they brought a refreshing diversity with their old world customs, food and manners.

However, the Captain continued, since Hitler came to power and gave an edict that all Germans should return the Fatherland to assist in the great cause, there has been Nazi sympathizers infiltrating the island for recruiting and spying purposes, amongst other nefarious things.

He explained the brief history lesson by stating that one who was present in the document discovery, a taller Gentleman with light hair, had ventured into a predominantly German public house on the edge of town that evening he and Percilla left on a train to London.

Thurgood.

This man, with a voice bolstered with drink and a heart singed with rejection proceeded to tell anyone who would listen He talked about a dear John letter, a parchment they discovered that in his words, ‘this half breed gypsy’ took its contents with serious intent.
Most patrons considered it to be a very tall tale.

Most in the pub, the Captain said, but not all. One, most likely in an attempt to curry favor with the Nazi’s and knowing the party’s obsession with such matters, took the information and passed it along to Berlin.

“We feel this is the cause of the immediate resistance to the completion your journey.”

The Captain enumerated that outside of a stern warning to hold his tongue, delivered outside of town by a trio of rather large followers, no harm would come to this man; for it was determined that he spoke in innocence and knew not of the magnitude of his betrayal. However he will be watched.

“Try to get some sleep,” the Captain finished. “I’ll wake you just before we arrive.”

**

Percilla waited until the Captain went topside, then asked, “Eason, what is a dear John letter?”

“A good bye letter. A letter of rejection,” he answered.

“Oh.- Dear. My letter to Thurgood-I wrote nothing of the kind.”

“Knowing my cousin as I do,” Eason said, “I suspect that in his state of inebriation he received the addressed envelope, and without reading its contents, assumed the worse.”

“I do hope the poor dear reads it,” Percilla said, “I would hate to have him think as such.”

Eason added, “Not to worry. Thurgood does relish his bouts of self pity.”

“And those men who confronted him. I hope he came to no harm.”

Somewhat puzzled by her words, Eason answered, “according to the Captain, all he received was a warning. And well deserved,” he added, “ in my opinion.”

Percilla turned and faced the hull of the boat. Eason, feeling the damp chill of the channel, pulled the rough wool blanket tight to his shoulders.

Such a confusing contrast, he thought, as he closed his eyes. She has gone from a warm estate, silk sheets, with maids and servants to provide all manners of comfort, to the bunk of a dank trawler in the middle of the channel. Not to mention the other inconveniences of the last few days. And being shot at!

Yet she took it all in stride, like a trooper.

He more than just admired her new found continence, he drew strength from it.

However this sudden concern for Thurgood, his vain, narcissistic cousin, who continues to live in luxury and takes full advantage of his station, baffled him.

He once again thought of his commitment, both to this journey and after, to himself.

Those thoughts helped to calm him, by reflecting from his mind the the harrowing itinerary of these past few days. Soon the weariness of the day took over and he succumbed to sleep.

****

It seemed like mere seconds before Eason felt a shake on his shoulder and the smell of strong tea.

He sat up in a grog, as the Captain put placed the cup in a gimbaled holder affixed next to bunk. “Your Lady’s in the head,” he told a sleep ridden Eason, “I suggest you hit it too, then drink this down. We’ll be at our stop in a few.”

The - head?”Eason said, as he tried to blink the sleep off.

“The crapper,” The Captain answered, then pointed.”Out that door, forward past the wheelhouse to starboard.”

The Captain Saw Eason’s befuddlement. “Just follow your nose, Mate” he grinned, “But hurry.”

* *

Eason and Percilla stood on deck as the Captain and first mate winched overboard a small dingy. Eason saw what looked like a small fire burning from shore, which he judged to be less than a kilometer from their position.

As the Captain lowered their bags to the rowboat, Eason thought about the souls that had assisted them on this quest: most were common men, working men, men, who he, just a few short days past would have eschewed their presence with disdain.

My, he pondered, how things have changed. And Percilla, how different her conduct has been! Yet that late exchange regarding Thurgood still troubled him. Not, as he told himself stiffly, due to her possible lingering feelings for him, but more to the fact that it just did not fit with her ‘new’ demeanor. Or did it?

Perhaps, he wished, that he should live long enough to finally understand women. Then a bit more, he prayed, so he could finally understand himself.

* *

The rhythmic slosh of oars to water eventually beached the dingy in a small inlet. From their position he could see a man, setting cross legged next to the fire, dressed in dark attire, his head capped in a beret set at a jaunty angle.

The Captain pulled the small rowboat to further anchor on shore, then waved to the man. He responded in kind.

Helping them out of the boat, the Captain bade them adieu, with these words: “remember, my friends, there are many praying for you and for your safe completion of this journey. May God Speed.” And with that, the Captain was off.

As they approached the man sitting by the fire, Eason saw that he produced a coin, held it up with his thumb and forefinger, back side out.

Immediately after they responded in kind, he rose, removed his beret with a sweeping flourish motion. “Monsieur,” he said lightly, “Madame, I am Marcelle. I am to be your guide. Please if you will follow me but a short distance, you will find your chariot is waiting.”

A short climb to the top of the slope revealed a large touring car. Marcelle ushered Percilla into the back seat, which would, as he stated, be of more comfort, and Eason climbed into the front.
“Sweet Percilla,” Marcelle stated, as he keyed the engine to life, “ The wicker basket of which you share a seat contains both food and drink. Please partake, both of you. You look as though you are famished.”

They were, and as Marcelle directed the auto car south toward Paris, Percilla distributed portions of bread and cheese to herself and Eason, and poured a heady red wine into goblets to the three.

As they ate and drank the early sun rose from over the eastern hills, illuminating the pastures, farmlands and hedgerows, revealing a smattering of movement as beasts grazed and farmers began their morning tasks.

Marcelle, with one hand on the wheel the other on his wine vessel, guided the vehicle through the country lanes with a speed and deftness of one who had veteran experience in traversed this route.

Eason noted that he was a slim man, of average height, with thick black hair that fringed the edges of his beret in tangled curls. He had dark yet gentle eyes, well spaced, topped by dense eyebrows and a rather prominent nose which crooked slightly to one side and an amicable smile which he did not hesitate to use. Though what outweighed all of his features was the panache he demonstrated with every move and gesture, from a turn of the wheel to a sip of his wine. Eason could not help but like the man.

As they progressed the countryside the air warmed quickly, evaporating the nights dew into a translucent haze which lazily hugged the ground and gave forth a surrealistic tinge to the unfolding scenery.

A sense of tranquility came over the lot fueled by food and wine sated cravings, and supplemented by the burgeoning warmth of the day.

After a time within this state, Marcelle, after glancing at his rear reflector, commented to Eason, “I see that Madame has fallen asleep.”

Eason turned and saw Percilla, her head resting against the wicker basket, and with a mild grin noticed that she was snoring softly.

“Madame such a beautiful Lady, ” Marcelle commented. “I envy you, to have such a resplendent woman.”

“We are simply friends,” Eason interjected swiftly, “Old friends. Since childhood.”

“But there must be more than that, Monsieur Eason. A sacred and unique bond I see, or else why would she choose you to accompany her?”

“She did not,” Eason answered, “others did.”

“Ah, the prophecy,” Marcelle elated. “Once again, the words bear fruition.”

“Tell me about this prophecy,” Eason asked with eagerness.

Marcelle raised his forefinger. “A time and a place, which is not at this moment, my friend. However it is now time I should tell you this: a meeting is being arranged, as we speak, for you two to attend early next morning. Those in attendance will appease your every question and concern, of that I promise you.”

“But for now,” Marcelle continued,” let us enjoy the ride. It has turned into a marvelous day, has it not? and if you would please extract the bottle of brandy hidden in the glove box, we shall drink to this superb day!”

Eason did, and after passing the bottle to Marcelle, inquired, “So tell me, my good man, how does a Frenchman come to get involved in this?”

Marcelle laughed. “you have subjected yourself to a common mistake, my friend. Marcelle, you see is Romany, not French.”

He then flared out the fingers of his right hand. “I, Marcelle, Gypsy by birth, an actor by trade and a knave by choice,” he said with theatrical flair, “and have been very blessed to be a part of this, let me assure you. Exceedingly blessed.”

“And of you my friend,” he continued. “What of you? A traveller no doubt, or perhaps a soldier of fortune, or an adventurer; one who, like I, who craves the mystery and excitement that life offers?”

“I daresay,” Eason answered, in a deep sincerity, “none of what you speak. Is with shame that I inform you that but a few days ago you would consider me nothing more than a dandy. A spoiled, pampered, sheltered child existing in a mans body.”

Marcelle rapped Eason’s leg with his open hand. “Ah, but you now have the perception to understand, to access your position in a truth you did not possess before. Of that I see. And I will predict that you will handle it well, and you will mature with wisdom and realize things about your person that you would never have dreamt of before.”

“I wish I could exude your confidence,” Eason replied.

“Time, my friend, time. Now. If I may remind us both of our present situation: we will arrive at the hotel in a few hours. After a wash, which if I may say, you both need dearly for you smell like spoiled fish.”

He flashed a smile. “Then a good meal, and off to bed for the both of you. The morning will come early. And with it,” he added, “responses to your every question.”

* * * *

The hotel was located in a quiet area off the Left Banke, reserved primarily for small shops and bistros. An older establishment, it showed its age, looking frayed around the edges.
However the rooms were quite spacious, housing a small circular table with chairs, a writing desk and two small beds situated near the window. In addition the room had been recently renovated to include a separate water closet with hot running water, and much to the relief of Percilla and Eason, a large claw foot bathing tub.

Percilla cited ladies first, and retired to bathe.

“You should be safe here,” Marcelle said to Eason,” though I suggest you should stay here with Madame for the night, and that the two of you do not leave the room. No sense in taking chances.”

Eason agreed. “I will be across the hall, “Marcelle continued, “if you need anything. Now, Monsieur, I suggest that you two retire early, for I will fetch you before sunrise for your meeting.

“We will,” Eason said, “And thank you for all your assistance.”

The two men shook hands. “The pleasure in mine, Monsieur Eason.”

Marcelle headed to the door. “I will be leaving to insure that the proper arrangements are made for this meeting, and will return with your dinner. I shall not be too long.”

“Thank you again,” Eason replied.

Marcelle turned, gave a large grin and with a theatrical flair, doffed his cap and bowed.

* * *

Marcelle returned with not only the usual wine, cheese and bread, but with veal in a lemon butter garlic sauce, potato and leek soup and spinach salad.

Bidding them adieu he left the two to enjoy their meal.

They ate with hurried civility, with only a modicum of conversation to interrupt the sounds of silverware on plates.

. . . . . .

“This is delicious,” Percilla stated.

“Yes, yes it is. Quite exquisite.”

. . . . . .

“Marcelle is such a dear.”

“Quite. The Captain said he was a good man, which did not do him justice.”

. . . . . .

“Did he tell you any more about our meeting?”

“Only that we should feel free to ask any questions.”

. . . . . .

“It will be nice to have these mysteries cleared up.”

“Could not agree more.”

. . . . . .

Finally they were finished. Eason distributed the last of the wine, and rose from the table.

“I feel so much better,” Percilla smiled.

“I second that,” Eason said.

“Eason, did you notice if there was a telephone in the lobby?”

“Why no, I did not. Why pray tell, did you ask?”

“I would like to send a cable to Thurgood. Let him know we are safe, and inquire as to his state.”

“Marcelle said we are not to leave the room,” Eason clipped, in an acerbic tone, “And I agree. No sense taking any chances.”

“Then I should pen him a letter, letting him know I am concerned-”

“Concerned?” Eason took a step back. “Concerned? Oh yes, we should all be concerned about poor dear Thurgood! Let him know immediately that his welfare is foremost on our minds!”

“Why yes, poor Thurgood,” Eason continued, with dripping sarcasm. “The dear man has it so rough. Why next to what we’ve been through the poor dear must be positively miserable in his primitive state!”

“Eason, you misunderstood me.”

“Why if I am not mistaken, this is his personals Valet’s day off! Horror of horrors, he might even be forced to wipe his own lazy ass!”

. “Eason!” Percilla screamed. “Calm down, for heaven’s sake!”

“And Let us not forget that your Dear Thurgood placed both you and I in danger by his antics.”

“Unwittingly,” she defended.

“But it is a fact.”

“Oh, Eason,” she groaned,” you do not understand.”

He placed the palms of his hands on the table with force. “Understand this, madame. I will reiterate to you now of my commitment to see this through. This, I promise I will do to the utmost of my ability.
What your feelings are to Thurgood or anyone else for that matter is none of my business or concern. However what is my concern is that this constant pining over Thurgood may interfere with our primary mission.”

“Eason, you are impossible!”

He stood erect. “Then this conversation is terminated. I shall now go and clean up. I suggest you retire immediately. We have an early and long day ahead.”

Percilla buried her face in her hands. “Whatever you wish,” she said in a whisper.

************

It was not until he had immersed himself in the warmth of the bath that his anger started to subside.
How could she do this?
How could she? What with all the trials and hardships they have gone through and no telling what lies ahead, all that blasted woman can think of is her dear, bloody, Thurgood! That dear, spoiled cousin of his that almost got them shot!

Well, he sighed, no matter. He let it be known, as he felt he had to, what their priorities were. That exchange should settle her down, or so he hoped.

As the soothing water took effect and his anger sated, a twinge of discord came over him. Perhaps he had been a bit too rough on her, too blunt in his manner of speech. The myriad of thoughts, emotions and responsibilities she must bear up to, and with all that has happened, must by very trying indeed.

As opposed to himself, whose only purpose was to insure her safety.

After a minute of contemplative thought he came to a conclusion, and with it a promise to himself that he would attempt to be more supportive.

* * * *

She had drawn the curtains closed, which gave the room a feeble light, and was on her side fast asleep. He sat down on the adjoining mattress and allowed himself a moment to look at her prone form, musing on how she now everything in stride.

He could not help but admire that new found charisma, nor could he help but admire her physically as well. Her form, proportions, and that slight exotic quality which shown in the slant of her eyes amongst other features, no doubt due to the Romany blood within her.

A sudden stirring erupted, and as he fought it off a mental one rose up.

If Thurgood had just exited a bath, she would not be asleep.

Cursing himself for these juvenile thoughts and feelings, he quickly got under the covers.

For what it's worth, you can buy wormwood at most any health store. In small amounts it strengthens the digestive system. (At least that's what the lable says :)

More than likely law enforcement hunting a bad guy.

Pssst... read reply #1.

Thanks, I did, but that dumb*ss Kofi statement was just too good to pass up. Dead people in prison. Typical leftist thinking.

If you blow yourself up and kill innocent civilians, my plan calls for 10-to-20 years in a medium-security prison," said Mr. Annan.

Uh, if you blow yourself up, you're DEAD, right? what is this idiot proposing, prison for body parts? Sheese.....

Almost forgot the heading again.... sheese...
This'll be a few chunks from me, then Old Sarge will take the helm. so tune in Tomorrow for another installment of "The Order of The Dragon, Supersized. (With Fries)"

"You, My Lady, were born Percilla St. Cyr, of an English noble family. Your true bloodline, however, brings you in direct line of descent from Mircea Szilagy, who was Baron of Sibiu, and a Knight-Commander of the Order of the Dragon - and one of the last ones to hold the rank who possesed temporal authority as well as supernatural. The time and opportunity have arrived, Madam, to make claim to the Barony - and to the knighthood, and possibly help to restore some of the power and influence of the Order, so that the imminent confrontation with the Enemy will be successful!"

____________________________________________________

Then all three, as if by command, paused to sip their drinks.

Eason, with a serious eye, turned to Percilla then to the Assistant Attache’.

“In all due respect,” he said, in an acute manner, “so far all you have done is elaborate on this Order of the Dragon as you call it.”

Eason created a slight interim of silence to ponder his upcoming words. “However I, for one, am still in the dark on all that has transpired , and I daresay more now then when we started.”

“For one thing,” he continued, “If Percilla is, as both you and the document we unearthed stated, to make claim to the Barony, one would expect a full entourage of not only bodyguards but others of equal or greater nobility as we make our way to our destination. Which,” he added, “has yet to be divulged.”

“Please,” Horvath answered, “ I beg you two to be patient. All of your questions will be answered in due time, of that I promise. It is only due to the untimely manner of your discovery of the document that we behave in such a manner.”

Eason stated, “That still does not excuse - “

“At this moment, Father Patrick in on the telephone attempting to garner additional information,” Horvath interrupted, “And as soon as he is finished you must go with him to the docks. There is a boat waiting to transport you to the continent. On your way he will - ah, there he is.”

The man who foiled the would be assassin entered the room swiftly, gave a quick nod to Horvath then set his eyes toward Percilla and Eason. “Time is of the essence,” he told the pair. “We must go now. Quickly!”

Eason’s eyes widened. In the light and without the wide brimmed hat he wore throughout the car trip, he revealed a shock of crimson hair, ruddy freckled complexion and bright blue eyes.

“Your bags are in the truck,” the Father said, “So shake a leg, both of you.”

Eason caught the priest’s accent, which he failed to do so before due to the tumultuous nature of their initial meeting .

An Irish Priest in a Hungarian Embassy assisting in this Romany journey.

___________________________________________________

Father Patrick hustled the pair to the rear of the Embassy and into the back of a rather ramshackle delivery truck. He extracted a small torch from his pocket, which gave a modicum of light to the dreary, well used enclosure which smelled heavy of petrol, raw boxwood and citrus.

The engine started and they were off, bouncing along the cobbled streets towards the docks.

“You’re Irish,” Eason commented, in an attempt to harvest a conversation.

“Very observant,” the priest replied, grinning at the obvious. “And I’m sure you see all this as a ruddy Chinese fire drill, but we’re doin’ the best we can with what little time we had.”

“We understand,” Percilla interjected, and gave Eason that now famuliar look.

“Now,” Father Patrick said, “questions, which I am sure you have. I shall tell you what I know, however it will be slight.”

“Let us start with the cabbie,” Eason said with vigor, “He showed the coin in the proper manner, yet directed us to that ship.”

“Yes he did,” the Father replied. “But I assure you that he is as dedicated to the cause as any, and followed instructions to the letter.”

“But if we hadn’t of gone to that cafe, we would of . . ..” He let the words trail off.

“But you did,” Patrick said, “And without specific instruction to do so. Which showed us that you were indeed true.” “You were guided, since you are true. But not by anyone on this earth.”

Father Patrick shot a glance upward. “The ship’s captain may have more information. We are gathering it as quick as we can.”

He reached into his pocket, then extended his hand. “You take this, he said. “It is a medal of Saint Christopher.”

Eason accepted the gift, nodded, then added, “So long as it isn’t one of Saint Jude.”

Father Patrick locked eyes with Eason for a moment, the burst out in a raucous laugh.

“You know your Saints well, Laddy!”

Percilla gave Eason a querulous look.

“Saint Jude,” Eason whispered, “is the patron Saint of lost causes.”

_______________________________________________

They made their way in the dark down an embankment to a waiting dory. After assisting them into the boat, Father Patrick pulled the cord to the small motor, which coughed to life, and guided the craft out into the inky waters to the outer harbor.

After many minutes of running, It looked as if they were heading into an abyss until Father Patrick shined his pocket torch into the blackness. It was met with a similar illumination around a hundred meters ahead, slightly to port.

The Father guided the dory to a waiting trawler, it’s engine running, awaiting its passengers.

The calloused hand of the Captain extended to first assist Percilla aboard, then the pair’s luggage. “They be true,” Father Patrick said.

Before Eason could join her on board he felt a hand on his shoulder.“Laddy,” Father Patrick whispered, “be aware there are forces that are bent on stopping you. Be careful, my son.”

He turned to the Father to inquire further, but was directed in a swift motion to get on board. “He may have more for you. Good luck, and may God be with you both.”

As Eason climbed the short ladder he heard these words emanating from the dory.

Devlesa avilan

The Irish Seven Course Dinner:
A six pack & a Potato
utahguy = 100%Irish!

Teddy's a good one. We have a friend who interned at WRIF in Detroit - said Ted was just a regular guy.

Hey, StarCMC. Thanks, as always, for your messages; but to be honest, I'm lost on this one.

Appreciate you helping out this senile old Irishman on expanded verbage and/or meaning.
(Brain cells now working . . .. working . . .. Ted Nugent?)
More than a little slow on the updraft..... :) Take care
utahguy

He also made the film "The innocent party" about VD. In it, this city girl gave this ol' country boy VD, which he then passed along to his "dream-girl-next-door". Still remember it from my Jr. High days.

Actual remembered Dialog:
Country Boy to his friend: "I've got a pimple. You know . . .. down there."
Friend: "Aw, don't worry. I had one down there once, but it went away."

Always wondered what happened to his friend, if you know VD.

Ah, the good old days

US Marines tell UAW Socialists where to go and where to shove it in Parking feud

I LOVE it! Go Marines!

God bless you all.

Testimony of Chairman Alan Greenspan Before the Special Committee on Aging

Uh, Elitists, I hate to break this to you . . .. but we're ALL aging. Yup. Every day.

The seizure occurred after a lawyer for Democratic Sen. Vincent J. Fumo

Wow. A Liberal? Who woulda thunk it? /sarcasm

Keep yappin', jOhN Queery. Everyone's already sick of you, and all you're doing is making it easier for us. BTW, how's your widdle hitler, AKA wifee?

Keep yappin', jOhN Queery. Everyone's already sick of you, and all you're doing is making it easier for us. BTW, how's your widdle hitler, AKA wifee?

Will Smith claims he was forbidden from kissing Cameron Diaz on screen because of American racism.

This is the same clown I heard in an interview b*tch that a million dollars doesn't buy what it used to.

Too bad. I used to like the guy (acting) but he's just another lib bollywood elitist.

After telling Marine reservists who drive foreign vehicles or display pro-President Bush bumper stickers they no longer could use a parking lot at the United Auto Workers headquarters, union officials have changed their minds.

And exposing this liberal Anti-americanism on FR and other websites had nothing to do with it?

Which reminds me; when you see an entry on your credit card for Gretchen&Kim Plumbing Services, no need to investigate. Just pay it and send me the bill.

So my plumbing is out of whack? Well, at my age, I guess that's true :-)

Almost forgot the lead-in:

I now pass the baton to Old Sarge. So, Ladies and Gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts, return your tray tables to their full upright position and get ready to experience Profetic Prose, Perfectly Penned by non other than Old Sarge himself.

Yes, I meant metaphor, but today the little grey cells aren't responding to synaptic impulses. Mondays. What can you do?

Not much more, my friend:)

BTW: You missed that followup appointment. I was disappointed, but billed your insurance anyhow. :)

Good! Have to keep up those high life styles that you dentists have.

For a moment there, I thought you were using a similie (?) to welfare mommas, criminals, junkies, old-hippies, and Gen-X losers and Democratic Politicians (specif: Hillary).

Hey, theDentist. Doubt if you remember, but when I was a new-new-newby, you responded to my first post. So a raucus Hi!, and how's it going?
BTW, I *think* you mean metaphor :)

Preeeee - cise - lee!

Great minds think alike :)

France's tallest building is 'cancer trap'

Correction: France is a 'cancer trap'

What's fat and white and still doesn't know it's all over?

(takeoff on the moldy oldie, "what's black & white & "read" all over)
HAHAHA! Love it!

Wow. I doubt this will get much coverage in the MSM.

Agreed. Stopping Sick & depraved Looneys from adopting kids? Makes too much sense for the MSM

About time . . ..

'round and round she goes, and where it stops, nobody knows...

That it?

”It matters to me not what is in your blood, but what is in your soul.”

He reach the area where he saw the man sitting in the middle of the lane. Suddenly, on impulse, he stopped the vehicle.

Then he did something he had never done in his life.

He looked toward the sky and prayed.

*________________________________*

“Such a difference from this morning,” Eason thought, as he and Percilla were chauffeured to the train station. The clouds swooped down from the north with feverish speed, dark, menacing, accompanied by increasing winds and a rather dramatic drop in barometric pressure.

Percilla sat by his side, with a calm demeanor, projecting a silent confidence. The soon to be inclement weather reminded him of that evening so few days ago, before the storm which had washed out the bridge, cancelled their plans for whisk and had changed there lives. Forever.

So many questions, so many loose ends, the quantity of such which surely would, had he concentrated on it, leave him in a state of dizzying panic.

Yet just by being in Percilla’s presence, observing the way she conducted herself through all this, gave him a somewhat queer yet comforting sense of well being and composure. If was if he was feeding off her, relying on her new found inner strength for solace and continence.

The rain had just to arrived on it’s downward journey to earth as they boarded the train and made their way to the sleeper car.

After securing his traveling case, Eason joined Percilla in the adjacent berth.

“Settled in?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said.
”Well,” he stated, “shall we visit the club car to pass the time”
“I would rather just stay here,” she answered, “But please, feel free to go if you would like.”
“Well then, would you like me to ring the Steward and have him bring some refreshments?”
“I am fine,” she indicated to him with a soft smile, ” though nice of you to ask.”

He sat beside her on the upholstered bench. In he seconds of silence that followed, what would have, in the past, been an awkward situation was replaced by a foreign yet welcomed feeling of congenial relaxation.

Eason was about to comment as such when there was a rapid knock, followed by the opening of the door.

“I say,” exclaimed a voice from outside, “do you mind if I come it?”

He was of average height, thin, dressed neatly in a gray three piece suit. He had a boyish face, light hair combed straight back and a pencil thin mustache over his upper lip.

“Frightfully decent of you to let me join you,” he said, as he sat down facing the pair. “Pettibone’s my name. Alfred Pettibone.”

I do get a tad nervous,” he continued, before they could respond. “Riding on trains and such. An inner ear problem, I suspect. A dreadful nuisance it is, but what can one do?”

“I say,”, he stated, nonstop, “did you notice how scant the passengers are? Why the club car is hardly half full. Not at all like during the war, when one had to fight tooth and nail for a passage.
And outside of us three, there is only an older couple on this car, two berths down. Frightfully nice they are, frightfully nice, however all they wishe to discuss are teapots!
Yes, that is correct, teapots! They are collectors, you see, and travelling to London they are to scour the antique shops to add to their collection.
Not that I have anything against teapots mind you, but it can get a bit tedious if that is all that is discussed, don’t you agree?”

Eason managed to get in a quick, “Well,” before Pettibone extended his thoughts.

“Now Mother, she rather likes to travel on trains. She says getting there is half of the enjoyment. I fearfully wish I had her constitution for such things, but alas, I do not.”

Before Eason or Percilla could respond, Pettibone interjected, “I do however, have a way of taking a bit of the edge off.” He reached in his coat pocket and produced a silver coloured flask.

“Excellent whiskey it is,” he said, thrusting the container to Eason. “My word as a gentleman. “Grateful if you would join me in a drop old Boy. Frightfully grateful.”

Eason saw that Pettibone had a coin pressed against the flask. It bore the etchings MDXXXLXXXIII and Devlesa araklam tume

Pettibone waited, arm outstretched.

He got no response from Eason, so he settled his glance on Percilla, who immediately pulled up her blouse sleeve to reveal her coin. He glanced back at Eason, who followed suit and produced out of his pocket his coin.

Pettibone, in a deft movement of his fingers flipped his coin to expose the Dragon. The pair, in unison, did the same.

After a long moment of silence, Pettibone spoke. This time in a low voice with a serious intent.

“There will be a man, a cabbie, that will meet you at the London station. He will utter the phrase, “Isn’t is a gorgeous day for a cruise.” Go with him.

Pettibone pocketed his coin and handed the flask to Eason. Eason uncapped the container, now grateful for the drink offer.

“This has been a bit of a rush for us,” Pettibone said, in a slightly more relaxed tone. “only had but a few hour notice. But we were expecting as such, so we will manage.”

“I do hope you will forgive me,” uttered Percilla, “But are you - what I mean to say is that you do not exactly look like -”
“Romany?” Pettibone smiled. “A bit. But completely dedicated, like my constituents, to the cause. A rather long story it is, on how I can to possess the bloodline. And a rather interesting one, but I am afraid my time with you is short. I must leave you at the next stop, which we are due to arrive in but a few minutes.”

Pettibone stood. Eason took a quick swallow from the flask, spun the top tight and attempted to hand it back. “You take it, old fellow,” Pettibone said, “I have a feeling you may need it.”

Then in a quick motion Pettibone opened the door. He gave a quick glance too see if the coast was clear. Satisfied that it was, he turned back.

“Two things I must stress to you two. One, use your coins only in response. Always wait for your contact to first produce his.”

A slight pause, then, “If your contacts are true, they will show their coin back-side out first. Please let me repeat. They will first show you their coin back-side out. If they are true.”

“May fortune be with you, my friends,” and before he departed, Pettibone added,
“Devlesa avilan”

Pettibone closed the door of the sleeper berth.

Eason, on impulse and emotion, followed him out. “Mister Pettibone?”

“Pettibone turned.” Yes sir?”
“I - please forgive me for asking this, for it may very well be stepping out of my station,”
Pettibone stepped closer. Eason continued. “I do wish to inquire of something.”

Eason took a deep breath. “I get the feeling that there is more to this than Percilla simply, - how shall I put this, - than an unlocking of true blood and a restoration of an order.”

Pettibone met his gaze and gave an almost imperceptible nod. “You are a fine fellow,” he said of Eason, and slapped the side Eason’s arm gently with an open hand. “Stay by her side. Protect her. She needs you.”

Pettibone then swiftly turned and left his presence.

This brief conversation, rather than satisfy his craving for information, only left Eason more wanting.

Such cloak and dagger! However at least, as he quickly recollected, that subtle nod had given him an a modicum of affirmation to one of his questions. Yes, there was more, much more going on that met the eye.

He turned back to the berth. Percilla, who though all this had remained remarkably calm. And it was with this, as he had repeated to himself many times during these recent hours, he would find strength to curb his wanton curiosity and up welling fear.

He recalled an old proverb: All things come to those who wait.

Well, he thought, that would be his motto. At least for the time being.

“Excuse me,” Eason said as he sat beside her in the sleeper berth.

“Eason,” she asked, in that newly found continence, “What do you think the reason for producing the coin first ‘back side out’?”
“That I can tell you,” Eason replied, grateful to contribute.
“Without specific instructions, one would have a natural tendency to show someone a coin face side first.”
“I see,” she replied, accompanied with a slight nod. “Thank you.”

As an added precaution against treachery , he thought, but he would keep that rather disturbing revelation to himself.

“Eason,” Percilla chimed, “What do you say we adjourn to the dining car.”
“Now that you mention it,” he said, his mood shifting quickly, “I am feeling a bit peckish.”

She moved close to him and took his hand in hers, not in a voluptuary way, but in a manner reminiscent of two comrades sharing a common goal.

The narrowness of the corridor prevented them from continuing this union, and after she released his hand he felt, through her - yes, that was it - that he discovered yet another unique feeling.

A feeling that he was needed.

* * * *

After a rather non descript meal of curry and mash, they retired to the sleeper berth.

Eason had procured a rather excellent bottle of claret from the Steward, and they finished off the day penciling crosswords.

Those last few hours before retiring were somewhat surrealistic in that despite their predicament the mood was light and gay, with word placement interluded by delightfully breezy conversation mixed with gentle back and forth bantering.

During a time when Percilla, who took the responsibility of filling in the letter squares, pondered a ten letter word for “brilliantly beautiful,” starting with R and ending with T, Eason mused that if nothing else this journey had made him realize an important item: that despite the transpiration of events in the past few days, the one thing that protruded foremost in his mind was not only the immense change in Percilla, but the atmosphere surrounding them being together. Though he steadfastly agreed to his new found personal agenda of which he would implement once this was seen through, he now would seek and maintain contact with her. For as he - and confident that she had amassed the same feelings - had realized by these neo-moments together, that a special bond had developed.

A bond of relaxing comfort while in each others presence.

A bond of true friendship.

* * * *

The London air was thick with fog and drizzle.

An aromatic presense, as thick as the present haze, and unique to the city, greeted Percilla and Eason as they stepped out from the train onto the station. Both ventured to each other the common belief that if one did not dwell on the origins of such emanating odors, you would get used to it within a time.

It took but a minute before contact was made.

“Excuse me, Sir,” said the cabby, suddenly appearing out of the mist, “But Isn’t is a gorgeous day for a cruise.” It was anything but, which confirmed the signal.

The tradesman motioned the pair to his hanson. After securing their luggage in the trunk, and opening doors for passenger entrance, he, without a word, affixed himself behind the drivers wheel.

The cabbie popped open the glove box and retrieved an envelope. He then directed it toward the back seat.

The coin, back-side out, was visible on the side of the envelope.

As per the newly discovered protocol, Percilla and Eason produced theirs.

The cabbie handed Eason the envelope, pocketed the coin, started the motor and drove off towards the docks.

Contained within the envelope were two boarding passes.

After a rather rapid drive through the crowded streets, they reached their destination.

“You have a bit of time,” the cabbie said as he unloaded their bags from the trunk of the vehicle. “There’s a tea shop just down the street where you can get a bite. It’s a bit worn ‘round the edges, she is, but the tea is hot, the ale’s strong, and they serve a good pork pie.”

Eason reached for his coin purse to pay the man. The cabbie waved it off.

“Devlesa avilan,” he said, then climbed into his cab and drove off.

Eason now thought it a good time to clear up a bit of the mystery.
“Percilla,” he said, after a quick glance to insure he was out of earshot from outsiders, “do you happen to know the meaning of these phrases?

“Why yes,” she answered, “yes I do. In fact,” she took his hand in a manner reminiscent of the way she did in the sleeper car. “I have been waiting for you to ask.”

“The phrase on the coin, ’Devlesa araklam tume,’ means, ‘It is with God that we found you’”

“What these men have said,” she continued, “Devlesa avilan . . .”

She moved closer.

And as her exotic eyes, full of meaning, met his, she whispered, . . .

“It is God who brought you.”

"Woohoo - BTTT!!
And btw - I love your tagline!
Thanks for my bedtime story! *grin*"

Appreciate the props. Tagline courtesy of Uncle Ted, One hellofa Rocker and a great American.
I'll post my last "chunk" come Sunday PM or Monday, then It's Old Sarge's turn to shine. We'll keep you posted.

Glad you're enjoying this. Tell your friends! :)

Chunk two of three here. Should have chunk three in a few, then Old Sarge will take over to delight and amuse you.

Again,please feel free to add your prose to this story.

And so it was that when the cousins arrived at their adjacent estates, a small group of dark featured men, perched on a bluff, observed their movements with intent eyes.

After the pair had departed into their homes, one of the men mounted a horse and with a fast gallop took off toward the north.

* * * *

Eason awoke slowly, stretching like a cat caught in a sunbeam. The time between closing his eyes the and the tangled ring of the wind up alarm came quickly, attesting to the depth of his slumber.

Yesterday’s respite from the mystery at hand was sorely needed: he spent much of that time sequestered in his room, his mind in a tumultuous cycle of thoughts, past and present. The serendipitous nature of their progress in this quest, Percilla’s admission of her mixed heritage and his own revelations of who he truly was and what he, at last, wanted in life.

In addition were a myriad of thoughts relating to the continent.

The great war, which consumed so many millions and the following influenza epidemic which, tragically, killed even more.
The postwar misery of Germany, hit hardest by the global depression and endured unbelievable inflation and political turmoil and the subsequent rise of Fascism and militarism.

The somewhat baffling postwar reaction of the French and their misguided, in his opinion, dependence on the defensive fortifications they called the Maginot line.
And in the east, the massacre of the Romanov family and collapse of the monarchy and the rise of communism, pogroms and purges.

But primarily in his mind was the muddled turmoil and the the rather mystical qualities of the recently unearthed document. This Order of the Dragon, restoring Elizabet’a Szilagy’s rightful place, the blood awakening , land beyond the forest - it was all so confusing, so delusive, so incredible.

However! This was another day, and since night’s slumber had cleared his mind and greatly enhanced his mood, he looked forward to a day that held promise of sunshine, warmth and adventure.

After a hearty breakfast he set out to gather his cousin for the trip to Percilla’s estate.

Though this was not to be, at least not as he had exactly envisioned, for on arriving the butler informed him that Thurgood had left the evening before last and had not returned until a few hours ago, with specific instructions not to be disturbed.

“No doubt doing his best to reduce the quantity of spirits in the county,” Eason thought dryly. But no matter. Keeping his promise, he would venture to Percilla’s alone.

He decided to take the trip on horseback rather than use the motorcar: the more leisurely pace would give him time to enjoy the ride, take in the the sights of the country and take in the fresh air.

And he mounted up and directed his steed toward her estate, one of the men on the rise who was on watch snapped open a spyglass. Confirming the description of the rider, he barked an order, to which another walked a few steps down the slope, away from the road and raising his hands, signaled to another on a distant hill.

* * * *

After a time Eason arrived at, then crossed, the newly repaired bridge which led to his destination. Meandering along the path which cut through the dense forest, his mind adrift, it was the horse that first spotted, then reacted with a sudden halt to a white haired man sitting in the middle of the lane.

“I say there,” Eason shouted. “Do you require assistance?”

The man looked at Eason with his dark eyes but remained silent.

Eason dismounted and approached. “May I assist you, sir?”

“Please,” the man said,in a remarkably strong voice, as he rose.

Then, with his voice lowered, he continued, “With a silent answer.”

The man’s stare took Eason aback. It seemed as if this elderly leather faced man was visioning straight into his soul.

“The Order of the Dragon,” he whispered with intent. “Elizabet'a Szilagy. The blood awakening.”

Eason froze.

It was as if this man had sudden command of his body, mind and soul. He could do nothing but stand at mute attention.

Finally, after a few seconds but what seemed like an eternity, the elderly man nodded slightly and turned away, breaking the spell.

Eason, with relief, took a deep breath.

“Tell me,” the man said, with a more pedestrian tone in his voice, “the one who revealed to you the coded words that enabled you to find the document. Is he alive?”

It took a moment to register. Percilla’s Uncle Edgar.

“Ah,” Eason replied with hesitance, “No. I am afraid he succumbed shortly after.”

It was the man’s turn to register relief. “As it is written,” he said, in a voice slightly higher than a whisper.

He then extracted something from his pocket and held it out to be received. Eason obliged, and the man dropped a coin in his open palm.

It was slightly larger than a half crown and tarnished with age.

It had MDXXXLXXXIII inscribed in raised letters which conformed to the curvature of the coin, and below, in smaller type, Devlesa araklam tume

Eason held it at arm’s length as if it were alive. The man reached out and turned the coin over to reveal a rather intricate etching of . . . a Dragon.

Exactly the same as the one on the box.

“Keep it with you always,” the man said. “It will confirm those you can trust.”

The man reached out and with a calloused hand closed Eason’s fingers around the coin.

“Go with her. Protect her. She needs you.”

And with that, the man strode quickly into the the forest.

Eason pocketed this strange coin and with mechanical motions and his mind whirling like a dervish, mounted his horse and galloped to his destination.

* * * *

The butler instructed that Percilla was in the waiting room. Eason entered and found her setting next to the fireplace, document in hand.

“Percilla!” he exclaimed as he approached her, “The strangest thing has just occurred.”

She looked up from the parchment.

“This man - well, it was so frightfully strange. I don’t know quite how to explain it to you - “

He thrust his hand in his coat pocket and produced the coin.. “He gave me this.”

“Yes,” she said softly, “I know.”

“You know?” But how?”

She looked at him in a way that he had hitherto never seen before. His mind, already grappling with the mornings events, screamed for a momentary respite.

“I need,” he stated with a tremble, “A sherry. A very large one I think.”

He went to the spirit carriage and filled a large bandy snifter to the brim. Downing more than half of it’s contents in a single gulp, he refilled the glass and cradled it in his hand.

Percilla went to his side. As he went to speak, she placed her forefinger against his lips, like a mother gently silencing a child.

“Perhaps,” she said, motioning him to the settee, “If I conveyed to you what happened earlier it would clarify things.”

With the feeling of her soft touch still lingering on his lips, Eason sat as instructed as Percilla began to relate this morning’s events.

She was in the midst of her morning stroll in the garden when she heard a haunting yet familiar melody emanating from behind the bushes.

The euphony struck a distant and pleasant chord within her memory, and as it increased in volume, far from frightening her, it served not only to both relax but fire her anticipation as to its origin.

Then an elderly lady appeared, hunched from age, humming the tune.

“Dear Child,” she addressed Percilla, “Do you recognize it?”

Why yes,” she answered calmly, “Yes I do. My Mother used to hum it to me when I was - a child.”

The Lady gave a soft smile, then looked deep into Percilla’s eyes. “and do you remember, my Dear, these words?
“The Order of the Dragon
Elizabet'a Szilagy
The blood awakening?”

“Why - yes, “Percilla said, suddenly mesmerized, “I - I do. I remember now. I heard them as a- a child. My Mother . . . And on this document - we discovered . . .”

“Then she gave me this.” Percilla said, and pushed back her sleeve.

She exposed a leather lace around her wrist, which was affixed with a small ring to a circular band of silver. The silver band held a coin.

An exact duplicate of the one Eason now possessed.

Percilla then continued. “She told me other things. Things I recall from long ago.”

She paused for a moment, deep in thought, then continued in a slow voice.
“When I was little, my Mother used to sit with me at night and tell me stories to put me to sleep. Fairy tales, King Arthur and the knights of the round table, and many more such wonderful works.
I used to dream that she would continue to talk to me long after I had fallen asleep. Different things, mysterious things, secret things that only we shared. And Eason,” Percilla effected another pause. “I now know that she in fact did.”

Eason sat in silence, not wanting to break the mood. For despite all than had transpired, his only thought at that particular moment was this new and unique aura about her. And with it, that she looked lovelier and more desirable than he had ever seen.

“Though I cannot,” she continued,”tell you exactly what she told me, nor can I at this time tell you why, I can say for certain my Mother knew this would happen.”

“She - did?” he managed to get out.

“Yes. These is - was this bond between us that I did not understand. Now, somehow, I do.”

She reached out and grasped Eason’s hand. “And I accept - and I am comfortable with - the fact that I have Romany blood within me.”

“In other words, Gypsy,” he stated.

“Yes,” she answered. “And you, Dear Eason. How do you feel about me being a Gypsy?”

“I does not matter,” he said clearing his throat, “what I, or anyone else thinks. But in truth, It matters to me not what is in your blood, but what is in your soul.”

She squeezed his hand and smiled in such a way that he had, like her aura, never seen before.

He stood up and went to the carriage for a refill.

”It matters to me not what is in your blood, but what is in your soul.”

As he filled his glass, he thought, “That is not how I speak. Those are not my words.”

And he reflected, with embarrassment, that her admittance of being half Gypsy would have indeed upset him, though not nearly as it would Thurgood.
Except for the additional inheritance that is. For money was, is, and will always be foremost in his cousin’s mind.

But it would have had an unsettling effect. Would have, in past terms, before that day - yes it was that day, that day at the Fayson’s bog, before he had conversed with that - that peat cutter?

Yes, that was it. But why? Why the change? Not that he regretted it, for he felt that in some unknown way it had opened a much sought after door to maturity and even - possibly - wisdom. But why? How?

A now too familiar confusion settled in. In an attempt to shake it off, he turned to Percilla and said,“So. What do we do next?”

She looked at him in that new way that he was rapidly becoming accustomed to. “There is a train leaving late afternoon. We can ticket a sleeper car and arrive in London by mid morning.”

“However, Dear Eason, I wish you to think about this. I do not want in any way to attempt to convince or cajole you into coming. It is up to you.”

“I made a commitment,” he said, verbalizing for the first time this decision, “that I would see this through. And I shall.”

“Are you sure,” she asked, “that you do not want to think about it?”

“I have,” he replied, “And at this time may I assure you that I am not in this for monetary gain. It is for many reasons. Personal reasons.”

I know,” she said, and gave a slight nod.

“Oh,” he had almost forgotten, “What about Thurgood? He is in on this.”

“I spoke to him,” she answered. “Yesterday.”

“Yesterday? But we were to have used that day apart to-”

“I know. He came over. I shall tell you later when we have more time.”

“Right,” he said, not quite knowing why. “We have things to do before the train departs.” He thought for a moment. “We should pack lightly. Only essentials.”

She nodded, then said, “And a sturdy pair of walking shoes should be included.” She came beside him, reached out and grasped his hand. “I know they told me you would,” she said, “But thank you, Eason. Thank you.”

Her hand lingered for a long moment on his. Then with a smile he bade her farewell. For now.

* * * *

Eason set the horse to a quick gallop as his mind inventoried what needed to be done: packing, instructions to the household help and a short, non revealing, note to his father

. Upon arriving he did the latter first, writing to his Father, who was in India, about him taking a spur of the moment vacation. Then after a few quick orders and advance wages to the servants, he went upstairs to pack.

This took longer that he had thought. So many things, so little room. He finally decided on somewhat drab yet utilitarian outdoor attire.

After finally fastening the bulging bag and securing money belts around his waist and ankle, he stepped back for a final check.

In pausing, the weight of the journey and all of its ramifications came to him.

He went to his dresser, opened the bottom drawer and extracted a revolver.

* * * *

He accelerated the motorcar, spraying gravel and dirt, onto the cobbled road.

Once he reached speed, the drone of the engine and the wind blowing through the open top brought him to a more relaxed state.

He tried not to think about was he had gotten himself into: all that had happened in a few short days, things he would never have imagined in his wildest dreams.

And though he resisted, his mind went to Percilla. How she had changed!

“I know they told me you would,”

“Yes,” she said softly, “I know.”

She knew? How? and They? THEY?

And what will happen after they reach London?

keep your wits about you boy, he said aloud.

In a few minutes he turned and drove the motorcar over the bridge toward the estate.
”It matters to me not what is in your blood, but what is in your soul.”

He reach the area where he saw the man sitting in the middle of the lane. Suddenly, on impulse, he stopped the vehicle.

Then he did something he had never done in his life.

He looked toward the sky and prayed.

I remember as a kid visiting Canada when their Dollar was worth more than our Dollar. My, how things have changed.

8. San Jose, CA -- A-

San Jose an A-???? Salt Lake City a D-?????? Ajenda Driven Junk science in action. Gimmie a break.