long to wait.
The undercurrent of conversation we had noted earlier ceased abruptly as Tananda made her entrance. A pregnant pause followed, and then there was a murmured comment prompting a sharp bark of laughter.
I closed my eyes.
What happened next was so preordained as to be choreographed. I recognized little sister’s voice raised in query, answered by another laugh. Then came the unmistakable sound of furniture breaking. No, that’s not quite right. Actually, the noise indicated the furniture was being smashed, as in swung quickly and forcefully until an immovable object was encountered ... like a head, for example.
The outcries were louder now, ranging from indignation to anger, punctuated by breaking glass and other such cacophonies. Years of hanging around with Tananda had trained my ear, so I amused myself by trying to catalogue the damage by its sound.
That was a table going over ...
... Another chair...
... A mirror (wonder how she missed the glasses?) ...
... That was definitely a bone breaking ...
... Someone’s head hitting the bar, the side, I think ...
... There go the glasses ...
A body hurtled through the plate-glass window next to me and bounced once on the sidewalk before coming to a halt in a limp heap ... a fairly good-sized one, too.
Unless I was mistaken, little sister was resorting to magic in this brawl or else she wouldn’t have gotten that extra bounce on a horizontal throw. Either that or she was really annoyed! I debated whether or not to chide her for breaking our unwritten rules regarding no magic in barroom brawls, but decided to let it slide. On the off chance that she was simply overly perturbed, such comment would only invite retaliation, and Tananda can be quite a handful even when she isn’t steaming.
By this time, the din inside had ceased and an ominous stillness prevailed. I figured it was jolly well time I checked things out, so I edged my way along the wall and peeked through the door.
With the exception of one lonely chair, which seemed to have escaped unscathed, the place was a wreck with everything in splinters or tatters. Bodies, limp or moaning, were strewn casually about the wreckage, giving the overall effect of a battlefield after a hard fight... which, of course, it was.
The only surprising element in the scene was Tananda. Instead of proudly surveying the carnage, as was her normal habit, she was leaning against the bar chatting quietly with the bartender. This puzzle was rapidly solved, as the individual in question glanced up and saw my rather distinctive features in the doorway.
“Hey, Chumley! Come join us in a drink to my long-overdue remodeling.”
Tananda glanced my way sharply, then nodded her approval.
“Come on in, big brother. You’ll never guess who owns this dive.”
“I think I just figured it out, actually,” I said, helping myself to a drink from a broken bottle that was perched on the bar. “Hello, Weasel. Bit of a ways from your normal prowl grounds, aren’t you?”
“Not anymore,” he shrugged. “This is home sweet home these days. Can’t think of anyplace else I’ve been that would let me operate as a respectable businessman.”
Tananda gagged slightly on her drink.
“A respectable businessman? C’mon, Weasel. This is Tananda and Chumley you’re talking to. How long have we known you? I don’t believe you’ve had an honest thought that whole time.”
Weasel shook his head sadly.
“Look around you, sweetheart. This is my place ... or at least it used to be. Been running it fair and square for some time now. It may not be as exciting as my old lifestyle, but it’s easily as profitable since I never lose any time in the slammer.”
Little sister was opening her mouth to make another snide remark when I elbowed her in the ribs. While I’m not above a bit of larceny myself from time to time, I figured that if Weasel genuinely wanted to go straight the least we could do is not give him a hard time about
The undercurrent of conversation we had noted earlier ceased abruptly as Tananda made her entrance. A pregnant pause followed, and then there was a murmured comment prompting a sharp bark of laughter.
I closed my eyes.
What happened next was so preordained as to be choreographed. I recognized little sister’s voice raised in query, answered by another laugh. Then came the unmistakable sound of furniture breaking. No, that’s not quite right. Actually, the noise indicated the furniture was being smashed, as in swung quickly and forcefully until an immovable object was encountered ... like a head, for example.
The outcries were louder now, ranging from indignation to anger, punctuated by breaking glass and other such cacophonies. Years of hanging around with Tananda had trained my ear, so I amused myself by trying to catalogue the damage by its sound.
That was a table going over ...
... Another chair...
... A mirror (wonder how she missed the glasses?) ...
... That was definitely a bone breaking ...
... Someone’s head hitting the bar, the side, I think ...
... There go the glasses ...
A body hurtled through the plate-glass window next to me and bounced once on the sidewalk before coming to a halt in a limp heap ... a fairly good-sized one, too.
Unless I was mistaken, little sister was resorting to magic in this brawl or else she wouldn’t have gotten that extra bounce on a horizontal throw. Either that or she was really annoyed! I debated whether or not to chide her for breaking our unwritten rules regarding no magic in barroom brawls, but decided to let it slide. On the off chance that she was simply overly perturbed, such comment would only invite retaliation, and Tananda can be quite a handful even when she isn’t steaming.
By this time, the din inside had ceased and an ominous stillness prevailed. I figured it was jolly well time I checked things out, so I edged my way along the wall and peeked through the door.
With the exception of one lonely chair, which seemed to have escaped unscathed, the place was a wreck with everything in splinters or tatters. Bodies, limp or moaning, were strewn casually about the wreckage, giving the overall effect of a battlefield after a hard fight... which, of course, it was.
The only surprising element in the scene was Tananda. Instead of proudly surveying the carnage, as was her normal habit, she was leaning against the bar chatting quietly with the bartender. This puzzle was rapidly solved, as the individual in question glanced up and saw my rather distinctive features in the doorway.
“Hey, Chumley! Come join us in a drink to my long-overdue remodeling.”
Tananda glanced my way sharply, then nodded her approval.
“Come on in, big brother. You’ll never guess who owns this dive.”
“I think I just figured it out, actually,” I said, helping myself to a drink from a broken bottle that was perched on the bar. “Hello, Weasel. Bit of a ways from your normal prowl grounds, aren’t you?”
“Not anymore,” he shrugged. “This is home sweet home these days. Can’t think of anyplace else I’ve been that would let me operate as a respectable businessman.”
Tananda gagged slightly on her drink.
“A respectable businessman? C’mon, Weasel. This is Tananda and Chumley you’re talking to. How long have we known you? I don’t believe you’ve had an honest thought that whole time.”
Weasel shook his head sadly.
“Look around you, sweetheart. This is my place ... or at least it used to be. Been running it fair and square for some time now. It may not be as exciting as my old lifestyle, but it’s easily as profitable since I never lose any time in the slammer.”
Little sister was opening her mouth to make another snide remark when I elbowed her in the ribs. While I’m not above a bit of larceny myself from time to time, I figured that if Weasel genuinely wanted to go straight the least we could do is not give him a hard time about
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