The Philosophical Strangler(55)

“This is the one we’d really like to see you guys in,” said Angela, softly. “You’d even get mentioned yourself, Ignace, right there in the text, instead of just being a footnote.”

I curled my lip. “Yeah, sure I would. For about a month.” I marched up to the table and flipped open the new book. Then, pointed to the binding.

“You wanna know why it’s loose-leaf?” I demanded. “That’s because the thing is obsolete the day it comes out of the printers. Half of everybody in it is already dead. Or crippled or maimed or locked in a lunatic asylum or being exorcised on account of they’re possessed by demons.”

I gave the book my very finest sneer. “Jane’s The World’s Heroes, Champions, Knights-Errant, Paladins, Gallants, Chevaliers, Lion-Hearts, Valiants, Exemplars, Beau Ideals, Paragons, Non-Plus-Ultras, Shining Lights, And Other Loose Screws And Goofballs. Ha! Fat chance!”

Angela shook her head fiercely. “It’s different! Greyboar could do it!”

“So could you,” murmured Jenny. Her finger stroked the open pages. “You’d be real good at it, Ignace. Really you would, if you put your mind to it.”

“That’s right!” chimed in Angela. “And you guys could survive too!”

“Survive what? Monsters and mayhem and murtherous demons? Maybe.” I planted my hands on the table and gave them my superb man-of-the-world stare. “Did you look at the companion volume? The one that takes a wheelbarrow to haul around?”

Silence. But they were still glaring at me. Unreasonable women!

Again, my magnificent sneer. “Oh, sure. Jane’s The World’s Toast. Last edition I saw was up to four thousand pages. And guess what’s listed as the cause of death, more often than not?”

Still glaring. As bad as Gwendolyn!

“Starvation, that’s what! Or falling under the talons of a chicken due to weakness from beriberi and dysentery!” I really put the sneer into overdrive. “I can see it already. Me and Greyboar staggering through the Flankn, with signs around our necks. ‘Will derring-do for food.’ ”

Still glaring!

“You could do it,” insisted Jenny. Her voice was soft, but firm for all that. “You could!” chipped in Angela. More tempestuous, as usual.

The silent standoff that followed lasted for maybe a minute or so. Then I turned and stalked out of the kitchen. Once in the little living room, I plunked myself down in a chair and glared at the wall, my arms crossed over my chest.

After a while, Jenny and Angela drifted into the room. I ignored them for a bit, until Angela plopped herself in my lap and gave me a big kiss. That was hard to ignore. So were Jenny’s hands, rubbing my shoulders.

“S’okay,” murmured Angela. “We love you anyway. And you’re a hero to us, even if you’re a perp to the rest of the world.”

“It’s not fair,” I muttered. “Pay’s good. Work’s steady.”

Jenny kissed the top of my head. “And what else do you ever get in this world?”

“Not fair,” I repeated. “I never asked for any damned philosophy.”

By now they were pretty much impossible to ignore, and I discovered I wasn’t trying anymore. Rather the opposite, actually. Sometime later, Jenny went back to the kitchen to do something or other. After a bit, Angela followed. Before she left, she kissed me and whispered: “You guys could do it. Jenny and I know you could.”

Not fair!





It was a very nice feast. Even if I wasn’t in a good mood. Over the brandy afterward—I bought it, without anybody even pestering me—the Cat rose and made a toast.

“Here’s to adventure!”

I kept my mouth shut, shut, shut, shut. Greyboar, of course, slurped down the toast and so did Jenny and Angela.

Then the Cat continued: “I think you should definitely take up the Abbess’ invitation.”

I groaned. Silently, I think. I’m not sure, because the minute the Cat made that announcement Jenny and Angela were chattering like magpies wanting to know what it was about. As soon as they found out, they immediately joined in with the Cat pushing the silly idea on Greyboar. I squawked and protested, but it was no use. Greyboar caved in right away. I swear, the man was an absolute patsy in the hands of women!

Then, naturally—I saw this coming a mile away—Jenny and Angela wanted to go along. The Cat said she couldn’t herself, on account of looking for Schrödinger, but she thought it was a great idea. Then, naturally, Greyboar caved in again.

Then, naturally, Jenny and Angela wanted to travel to the Abbey on horseback. Fastest way to get there, they said. But at least here Greyboar put his foot down.