Derry, Northern Ireland

Derry, Northern Ireland
A book I'm working on is set in this town.

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

And a bit more...

Written out, so just posting a bit more of A65...


The Punk Couple, who turned out to be named Julie and Manny Marshe-Croton (the brat's name was Dumpling something-or-other), were very apologetic and embarrassed ... especially once they learned Adam had brought no extra clothing beyond a pair of y-fronts and socks, and those he only brought at his mother's insistence.

"I'm not staying," he had told her, "so why would I need an overnight bag?"

"Just a change and some toiletries," was her reply. "Just in case. You never know what might happen. Flight might be canceled or delayed. Earthquake. You decide you love LA and want to live there the rest of your life, on a whim."

"I don't do whims."

"Adam," she sighed, "there's always a first time." And she had stuffed the briefs and socks into his rucksack.

Fortunately, the Marshe-Crotons had done carry-on so lent him jeans and a shirt and, since he was two sizes narrower than Manny, a set of suspenders to hold the jeans up. He was careful to note their home address so he could return them, once they'd returned from their death tour.

The moment the flight was at cruising altitude, the attendants allowed him to use the Business Class lavatory to clean up. He shoved all the dirty clothes into the same bag as his jacket and made certain it was tied good and tight.

When he got back to his seat, Julie had moved next to him and Dumpling was in Manny's lap, still smiling at Adam with his wicked eyes. Adam had a nice chat with Julie about the history of henna tattoos, or Mehndi, which extended over lunch, and somehow managed to convince him letting her paint a design on his left hand would be fun. Which it was, actually. She had some in her makeup case in her purse, and used a tiny brush to work up a lovely mandala, murmuring as she worked, "Lovely skin. Tight. Unblemished. On the pale side but that enhances the design."

"It's lovely," Adam said, then asked, "Does it have a meaning?"

"Enlightenment," was all she said. Then she got some lemon juice from the attendants and packets of sugar, mixed them together, applied them over the design once the clay had dried and cracked, and wrapped his hand with a bit of cellophane. "Not normally part of the ritual but does enhance it. Take it off at the end of the flight."

"Brilliant. And so quickly done."

"Do it for a living," said Julie. "Fairs. Streets. Run down to boardwalks wherever we feel like. Here's me card." She handed him a neat business card with her Facebook address on it. "I post our schedule on there."

"You do well with this?"

"Well enough. Swing by some time; I'll do one on the other hand. Balance. No charge."

Adam grinned and said, "Thanks."

Then she lay back to get a nap and he settled in to watch the movie.

(This bit is the description of the book's story, as posted earlier, so we jump to later in the flight)

The girl playing Mar-Lee as an adolescent was just right, as was the boy playing Creggan, the last surviving member of his family. They sparred as they learned combat techniques, played games, argued, just like children, and just like in the first book. Adam was hopeful.

Then they cut to Mar-Lee as a grown woman, played by Casey Blanchard, with a spectacular entrance -- walking out of fire in a protective suit, throwing back the hood to reveal a face that would have made Helen of Troy weep with envy. Sharp black eyes atop elegant cheekbones framed by hair cropped short but still female, and with a gaze that told one and all she would be a force no one could control. She then tore off the suit and went into battle mode, killing mercenaries sent by the invaders.

The fights were beautiful in their choreography and grace, Mar-Lee the epitome of an Amazon Warrior Queen as she slaughtered everything and everyone around her, with help not arriving -- in the form of Greggan -- until after she was done.

She looked around at him and asked, "What took you so long?"

To which he replied, "Traffic was a bitch."

Adam stopped the DVD. None of that was in the book.

He would have left the movie, there, except for one small problem -- Dumpling Marshe-Croton. He crawled over his sleeping mother to watch the video and then fell asleep on Adam's lap. Not a wonderful thing, but it reminded Adam of his Jack Russell terrier, Albacore, who loved to do the same thing when Adam was reading. Since Adam had a nice thick copy of Sigrid Undset's Kristen Lavransdatter to read, he figured it would be much the same ... only Dumpling woke up when he stopped the film and looked at Adam with those black, dangerous eyes. So Adam started the movie up, again.

Dumpling watched about five minutes of it then fell asleep, again. Adam waited a few minutes, forcing himself to watch Mar-lee and Creggan reluctantly agree to join forces ... then he turned it off.

And Dumpling woke up, again. Adam wound up running the film all the way through, twice, before learning that Dumpling was in trainer pants and still wet his bed. A lot. And since Adam was his bed ... well, this time they let him use the Premier lavatory, with its lovely scented soaps and heated towels. Then made him sit on a garbage bag the second half of the flight ... with Dumpling still sleeping in his lap.

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