The Portrait of Zool

The hostess was getting a very bad feeling. Jitterbugs? In the Boaz Room?? It can't be. Nothing like that has happened since... well, EVER!As the waiter who gave her the news returned to the restaurant she peeked inside, and her heart sank. The whole restaruant was dancing. Even the waiter who had just returned was walking jerkily to the beat. Even worse, the Jitterbug boogie was going right past the itch twitch and into disco fever. These were obviously the worst kind of jitterbugs. It was simply mortifying! Something had to be done!"Who you gonna call?" she thought idly as she picked up the phone. "Yes, Hello," she said when the other end was answered. "I have a problem which I think you can help me with. M-hm. M-hm. Well, are you discrete? I'd really like to take care of this as quietly as possible. Good. The Mighty Pen. See you soon." She hung up.Somewhere out in the world an alarm bell rang. Men jumped out of their beds, slid down the pole and jumped into their gleaming retro tochnologically topheavy emergency vehicle. The motor roared, brilliant lights sprang to life, and a piercing klaxon pierced the night as the ancient Cadillac Hurst bolted out the open doors and onto the street. Lights flashing and siren blaring the whole way, it drove to the Keep of The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword!.They entered like stormtroopers, four men in boots, heavy coveralls, armloads of equipment, and menacing backpacks that gave off a low thrum."We're here, let's be clear, it's time to kick butt!" shouted the leader as he topped the stairs.The hostess ran up, appalled. "Shey're in shere!" she said, half trying to shush the unruly exterminators and half trying to direct them to the job. Things were just never like this when she was growing up with the other elves.The man gave her a funny look, but maintained what he thought was a professional demeaner. "I'm Peter. What's the problem miss?"The poor hostess was a bit overcome. "Jitterbugs. The whole restaurant. Disco fever!" she finally managed to stammer out."Sounds bad. Egon, do we do bugs?""Egon asked the hostess, "What's the pay?"The hostess produced a bag of gold.All four men simultaneously pulled out a wicked looking rifle of some sort, connected at the back with a thick cable to the vibrating backpacks. the hostess' eyes became as big as dinner plates. "Whoa whoa whoa whoa!" she exclaimed, now genuinely frightened. "Are you sure you can do this?"Peter looked at the hostess and said evenly, "Ma'am, we're exterminators. We each have years of experience, an unlicensed nuclear accelerator strapped to his back, a full tank of gas, it's night, and we're wearing sunglasses. We got this.""Aren't you mixing up your movies?" she asked, confused."It's all right ma'am, they're great lines. Heat 'em up!"The backpacks low thrumming ramped up to a fever pitch as they strode past the hostess and into the restaurant, guns blazing.The restaurant exploded in a shower of lightning bolts and flames. Patrons danced to cover. Harmony seemed safe in her corner for the moment. James decided it was time to rhythmically examine the floor boards. Zool dove under his chair as Brighid and Yasmina dove under the table. Rydia dove deeper into her bush as the top was burned off. The Swami rolled deeper into his corner. Three giant squirrels dove in three different directions. All shadows were momentarily banished in the electric glare.But the jitterbugs faught back viciously. First Egon began jerking involuntarily, then Peter too, then the rest were all dancing frenetically to the music, which somehow continued to play. It was over, the jitterbugs had won - at least for now.People began dancing out of their hiding places, stamping out fires as they did so. Zool peeked out from under his chair. The Swami picked up his turban and plopped it back onto his head, a blue arm popping out of a trap door and putting out the burning feather and smoking singe marks with a fire extinguisher. The place was full of dancing patrons and a thick haze of smoke. What a party!

Wish they had a vid with better sound quality, though it's not that bad... Steve Winwood - Slowdown Sundown

Am currently reading 'Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz' - because I've never read it, and I love Oz books!

Turned my 200 watt stereo up to eleven!

Busy night for me - but LOVE your Boaz Room post!

After a dozen POOMs the barrage finally ended, leaving the Swami panting and trembling heavily. He was bruised, exhausted, and quite dizzy to boot. "Is it over?" he said aloud to no one in particular. "IT'S SO FLUFFY!!" The screech startled him so much he dropped the turban, which bounced out of the flower pot and fell at Rydia's feet. "My goodness!" said the Swami, his ears ringing and his eyes as big as saucers.

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Zool with a large grin. "Your card brought back to mind a glorious time, back before I was confined to this crayon corral, though your invitation reminds me once again of the limitations.... Say, what's that on your arm?" Zool's head loomed large as he leaned forward to examine James' arm, overt concern in his eyes. "It is! It is!" he exclaimed, straightening back up with a jerk. "No wonder you're so desperate to dance - you've been bitten by a jitterbug!" James looked where Zool had indicated and saw a pink and blue mosquito looking creature resting on his arm. "Anyone bitten by a jitterbug has an uncontrolable urge to dance! Kill it! Kill it! It mustn't be allowed to bite anyone else! I hope to GOD there aren't any more!"

Pogo Stick! I never owned a scooter. BMX or Cruiser?

Zool gave the biggest grin she had yet seen him give. "Well, that was foolish," he said, half to himself.The turban alighted back on the table with a wobbling spin after absorbing the force of the trajectory of the rubber chicken, and then the rubber chicken itself in that lightning quick grab. Finally coming to a rest, it lay innocently on the table with all the pomp and distinction of an ordinary turban.But clearly it wasn't an ordinary turban. Everyone at the table stared unblinking at it, holding their breath...The Swami chose that moment to return. Sitting down he deftly popped the turban onto his bald head. "Phew!" he said cheerily, "Thank you Lady Brighid for that wonderful dance! I haven't had..." Before he could finish his sentence the turban leaped into the air, did a triple summersault and plopped back down at a rakish angle. Straightening it with both hands, he grabbed it tight, saying mildly, "My goodness, I seem to have caught a case of hat hop..." He didn't finish that sentence either as he leaped up into the air, bounced off the rafters, then began careening around the room wall to floor to ceiling to wall, both hands clinging tightly to the hyper headgear. It was indeed fortunate for the swami's delicate noggin that the turban was so well padded.Bedlam erupted.As everyone else jumped out of their seats to seek cover the Swami alighted into a corner, finally coming to rest. Zool peeked out from under his chair to see the Swami sitting a little wobbly, but otherwise seemingly unharmed, still clutching the turban."What in the world is going on in that turban?" wondered Zool.As if in answer the jewel on the front of the turban swung aside, revealing another trap door. Out of the dark opening with a sharp *POOM* sound audible even over the bedlam a projectile of some sort shot out! And then another and then another! *POOM POOM POOM POOM POOM*!! went the turban, and wherever a projectile shot it bounced and bounced again, going in every direction!The bedlam, with the new disturbance, also changed direction. The air was now full of hurtling projectiles. People started shouting and cursing as the projectiles scored. Fortunately, they just bounced off of people too.One of the projectiles bounced of Zool's portrait and dropped to the floor, it's trajectory dissipated. He examined it. It was an egg - a rubber egg.

Mega congratulations! You earned it!

Good! How are you? Still at The Reincarnation?

I'm meeting my brother for my nephew's birthday this afternoon, so all morning I have been working on my hobbies, trying to get some of that list checked off! My wife is napping. Scarf or turtleneck?

I'm not a very strong swimmer but when I go to the river in the summer I love to snorkel! I've found all kinds of things - entire fishing rods, lures, anchors, lighters, sunglasses - even a gun! So - Sink, like all crabs! Station wagon or mini-van?

Snypiuer sighting! I loves me my sweets! Chips or pretzels?

I always love happy endings. Well done!

Awesome! Dinner time for me - see ya later...

Deep Forest - Marta's Song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o0yQHzLpQ3U

Lanz and Speer - Desert Rain

Douglas Spotted Eagle - House Made of Dawn Light

Kava Kon - Palace of the Tiger Woman

I heard you like waves too... Kinobe - Slip into Something More Comfortable

Very nice. Shan Qi - Avalon

The professor awoke slowly. He arose from a rosy glow into the sensations of a night slept on a wooden floor - that is, somewhat stiff. He stretched, yawned, and opened his eyes - and was startled to find that he was being watched. The man was resting comfortably in a chair against one wall, but didn't look too comfortable, due to the entire left side of his body being horribly shrunken and scarred. He watched the Professor with his good eye. In his lap, uncharacteristically accepting strokes from a stranger, was Mara. The Professor sat up in alarm, opened his mouth, then closed it. If the stranger was malevolent, he had already had ample opportunity to act. "Good," said the stranger, "You are awake. My name is Grimmael. I am a caretaker of sorts here. I welcome you to the Keep of the Pen is Mightier than the Sword!" The Professor gave Mara a stern expression, causing her to roll her eyes but then jump up and saunter over to him. Before he could decide what to reply to Grimmael, he threw him something, which the Professor caught. It was a key. "We have made arrangements for you to stay in the west wing," said Grimmael. "Here is a key. Let us know when you are settled and if you require anything further." Grimmael grunted as he took to his feet. Before he left, the disabled figure turned and said, "We are currently having a feast in the Boaz Room. You are invited. Dress is formal. you may arrive whenever you are ready." And with that he limped towards the door and exited the room. The Professor sat mute for a moment, not sure what to think of the strange man who had just been there. What a strange place, he thought, feeling guilty for a moment about the damage from his entrance, but then he looked up and saw that the ceiling had been repaired while he slept, leaving no trace of his unorthodox entry. He looked at the key again. It had the number '47' stamped upon it. I guess we make for there, he thought, struggling to his feet. http://patrickdurham.net/themightypen/index.php?/topic/17240-the-boaz-room/

Christopher Franke - A Radiant Band of Light

2002 - Overheard in a Dream