Part Four: Three Months Ago (3)

3.

"Aha! There it is!"

"Seamus, what are we doing?"

"When I suggested that we make a visit, I meant literally that we needed to make a visit." I pause momentarily, after an hour of walking distractedly and make a subtle, yet crucial adjustment to a particular decorative flowerpot innocently lying beside a condominium, then pluck one of the daffodils growing there and pitch it into the street. "Where we're going, we can't just waltz in with a fine 'howdy-do' and expect to be welcomed with open arms."

"So this visit will require prep work, then?"

"Prep work, yes." Content that the ill-fated daffodil has fallen at the appropriate spot, I resume our leisurely stroll. "They is one of the more closely-guarded secrets of the government, kept right here in Paradise City, believe it or not."

“They who?”

“Precisely. They who. They also what, why, where and when as well.”

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but all this improper grammar is driving me looney!" Stu complained, "We Brits are renowned for our rampant misabusing of the English language."

"Trust me Stu, there's no improper grammar here." He's such a Nazi.

"Who are They, then?"

"Is They, Stu. Is They."

"Who IS They, then! (bloody hell!)"

"They is the ultimate source of information, but besides that it's not something that can adequately be explained." I pause to pick up an innocent decorator rock lying next to another little flower garden several houses down from the first and heft it in my hand as we continue on.

"So what is They, some sort of super-powered computer?"

"Sort of, but not really. Trust me, you'll just have to wait to meet They in person."

"So They is a person."

"Sort of."

Stu flings his arm up in exasperation. "I swear Seamus, you're being as cryptic as humanely possible!"

"Stu, remember how I tried to describe Murphy to you? How there's really no proper adjectives in the human language to do the job?"

"Yeah."

"Well, this is another one of those circumstances."

He thinks for a moment. "Sounds like you're starting your own collection of indescribable personages."

"I am."

"Well can you at least try?" He asks as we approach a rather familiar Beamer parked curbside.

"Patience, young padawan. Patience! Now, are you ready for a change of pace?"

"What do you mean?" He asks, then goes bug-eyed as I drive the rock into the driver's side windshield of the Beamer, leaving a large stellate crater in the glass. The car alarm sounds, and I make a break for it, laughing mirthily. Meanwhile Stu stands frozen, staring at the damage.

"Come on Stu, time to go!"

He recovers from his shock, then speeds after me, quickly catching up. We round the corner just after hearing the owner exiting his house and swearing in dismay. A few blocks down we slow, catching our breaths. Silence dominates for a few minutes as we wander at a walking pace again.

"So now we're the bad guys? When did that happen?"

"Oh, that? Don't fret about it Stu, that was a really great chain I started back there. We're going to need that one. That makes it so we can get out afterwards."

"Get out of where?" he asks carefully. "What are you getting me into this time?"

"Well, closely guarded government secrets aren't exactly kept on the shelf at Wal Mart, now are they?" I retort, "That is, except for the mind-controlling chemicals they infuse into the rotisserie chickens. Which is why they make them taste unbelievably good, and then everybody ends up eating them repeatedly and then end up voting for the idiot. All a conspiracy!"

"Enough of your mind-controlling chickens, Seamus! Where are you taking me?"

"Fort Burkgold."

Silence.

"You're kidding me!" A plea.

"Nope. It's where we're going."

"Well gimme another rock, we're going to need a few more randomly broken windshields to get into that steel trap!"

"Actually, no, but I'm still working on that. Two or three more chains ought to do the trick. Here's one now!" I stoop over real low to the ground to inspect a slow-moving millipede crossing the sidewalk. "Hello little buddy! You ready to go on the biggest adventure of your life?" I scoop it up gently while Stu watches in fascinated silence, then walk over to a barred bedroom window, cracked open an inch, and quietly place it on the sill inside.

"That's downright evil, Seamus."

"I know!" I giggle, "I wish we could stand around and watch this one happen, but we got to go."

"Let's." Stu tries to sound disgruntled, but I can see the sparkle in his eye that betrays his inner prankster.

Part Four: Three Months Ago (2)

2.

Nor was that the last encounter with Rufus. We would encounter him again and again when in that general vicinity. Stu always insisted on speaking to him, much to my chagrin. Apparently once soiled, Rufus’ opinion doesn’t recover. The most response I could ever get out of him was a gruff harrumph a time or two, whereas Stu, apparently his new number one fan – excuse me – Number One Fan, catered to his every whimsical statement and as such received limitless encouragement and praise from his new Jedi Master, Rufus.

“What do you have against the old man anyways?” Stu asked me on one occasion, right before receiving a fist into his face from one of three smalltime thugs who we caught robbing an entire busload of retirees on vacation. The scum. I mean the thugs, not the retirees :)

“What do you mean, ‘What do I have against him?’” I reply, backing away from a second, while the third kept the vacationers at bay with a large fillet knife. “The man is an absolute loony! He sits in a back alley corner all day and pretends he’s a space ranger ‘defending the galaxy!’ You actually encourage him!”

“I know-OOOGH!!” Stu admitted, blocking a powerful left jab with his stomach. He folded over onto the ground, perfectly poised to receive a kick to the head. “There’s – HOOF! – something – DOOF! – about him – OOF! – I just can’t figure – OOF! – out.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” I ask, nimbly sidestepping a forceful advance from my quarry, who stumbled into a freshly formed pothole right behind where I was standing. The satisfying crack as his right posterior talofibular ligament snapped apart was music to my ears.

“Well,” Stu replies dodging the next several assaults with ample room to spare, speaking up so I can hear over the cries of agony from my dispatched foe, “You yourself have said that folk like us are to be found in the most unexpected of places.” Ducking below a powerful uppercut into a semi handstand, he plants the sole of his baby blue Nike Air Maxes directly into his assailant’s face then somehow converts the resulting force to propel himself back upright into a smooth double-roundhouse kick to the cranium. Four full midair rotations later the thug lands with a squish on the asphalt and remains motionless.

Lowering the fillet knife, the third thug, suspecting that the situation had drastically turned other than in his favor, trembles visibly as Stu, wiping gore from his mouth, tattered and bruised, seeping all over, alongside I, untouched, looking amazing, with hands in pockets for all the world appearing to be at a photoshoot, approach. Then gathering his nerve, turns tail so suddenly he rams face-first into the opened bus door, flattening himself out on the ground as well.

We regard him lying there clutching his nose a moment before Stu asks, “You do that, Seamus?”

“Maybe.” I reply, “I dunno. Let’s go.”

We ignore any pleas of gratitude and escape the scene quickly as that the police are arriving, late as usual.

Two blocks down Stu continues our conversation as he rubs his face with a wetted handkerchief to wash off his spilt blood, “All’s I’m saying is that until proven otherwise, I am going to treat Rufus like he’s telling the truth.” At this I roll my eyes and he adamantly continues, “Not necessarily about his alleged Power to Do Anything – I know you don’t give two beans what he talks about, but the man is actually a treasure trove of knowledge and experience. If you’d ever listen to him you’d come to realize that most of the things he says couldn’t possibly originate from a mad delirium.”

“Buddha, Stu? Seriously?”

“I said, ‘most of the things he says.’”

“Right.”

“Just saying, give the poor old man a break. Stop being so judgmental.”

“I’m not… judgmental. Just opinionated, that’s all.”

“That means the same thing, Seamus."

“Whatever. Oop, speaking of Satan…” I gesture down and across the street where sure enough, we spy Rufus pulling a rattling shopping cart filled with old cardboard and heading our way. He looks agitated, as per usual.

"Well howdy-do?" Stu greets him with a decent southern accent.

"Gentlemen," Rufus begins, "the universe beckons, so I must be brief."

I snicker. Honest, I didn't mean to, it just happened.

With a slightly less than patient sidelong glance at me, Stu anxiously asks as to the nature of his urgency.

"Despite your obvious lack of intellect and respect for one so great as I," he replies, actually speaking to me for once, "I come at a deeply distressing time, and at no small inconvenience to myself to deliver a Message."

Impressed, I ask, "A Message? From whom?"

"From me." Rufus replies.

"Oh."

"It's coming."

"That's your 'Message'?" I ask incredulously.

"Indeed." He replies, simply.

"What's coming?" I ask, impatiently.

"Now, what might you think?" He counters, impatiently.

"I don't know!" I return, heatedly, "Besides the circus, obviously! You tell me cryptically that 'it's coming' so you tell me what 'it' is!" I trail off, swearing under my breath.

"So be it!" Rufus shouts, standing rigid, "You persist in your insolence, and I will tolerate it no further!" Then holding his hand aloft, as if supporting the worlds largest burrito he proclaims, "Femnebulous cosmolicious obsidianus! You are now Known to me, Prince of Deception! Thief of Fortune! They told me of you. They have been watching you. They spoke your secrets. Secrets you have preserved even from yourself in your infinite trickery. I know what you Are, I say! They told me! Spare me this ignoramusnistical facade when I know so much the better! Receive a fair warning when it is given in good grace, intent, and sophistication when it has been given with due diligence, promptness, and accuracy when it has been given... in..." he trails off, staring with sudden horror off into the distance. Then, abandoning his shopping cart and cardboard collection full-out runs in the opposite direction, quickly disappearing around a building corner.

Stu and I look around, frantically searching for anything that could have raised his alarm so suddenly.

Absolutely nothing was happening.

We look at each other, trying to make head or tailbone out of this stunning visit with Rufus, communicating silently. Stu lowers his eyes, then abashedly admits, "Ok, Seamus, you win today. Absolutely none of that made any sense to me."

Strangely, I have no come-back. I seriously would never pass on the opportunity to rub this one is, except something he said this time unnerved me.

Stu, recognizing my trepidation asks, "Seamus? No come-back? Are you serious? Aren't you going to at least rub it in a bit? Something got your nerves?

I stand there silent.

"Seamus, what was he talking about, how they knew your secrets and all?" he asks, after pondering for a moment. "Is that the problem? What are these secrets he's talking about?"

"Now to that I have no answer." I answer.

"Then who are 'they'?"

"Not 'they,' Stu, 'They'."

"Oh." Stu realizes the significance. "Who are They?"

I ignore his question, only due to distraction, and ask myself aloud, "Now why would They be interested in me?"

"Seamus, what's going on? Who are They?"

"Who is They, Stu. Who is They. Come on, let's make a visit." I about-face and hurry off to the south with Stu trotting along behind.