sixwordstories | (no subject)

Well, that's odd. Is he all right? It's rude, but she finds herself sidling closer and watching for a very long moment to make sure he's breathing and blinking and not having some sort of seizure.

Then she turns and looks around as if trying to see whatever he's looking at. At last: "Your eyesight must be better than mine."

((Never have I ever seen a Waiting for God muse. You win the internets.))

He turned his head, eyes focusing again and a smile passing across his face.

"Oh, you can see Everest, too? How marvelous. I was just up the summit with old Tenzing and Sir Edmund, you know."

Meet Tom Ballard. A loon.

((Aww, thanks - but you may want to watch this entry in that regard. Just saying. And Pollifax muse is pure win, I believe))

Um. Excuse me? Are you okay?

A loon, perhaps, but Mrs. Pollifax is usually game to play along with this sort of thing. Smiling, she answers, "Is that where you were? Are you sure you're dressed warmly enough for those altitudes?"

Her accent is decidedly American. Possibly she's a visitor.

((I will do so! And thank you! She's been a favorite character of mine since I was in grade school))

[Looks over with a deep sigh of and a roll of eyes that might make Kings tremble and Generals gather up their skirts.]

Dear Lord, where are you now? Is All Quiet on the Western Front?

[He turned his head after a moment]

Ah, hello old thing. Was tunneling out of Colditz. Dickie Attenborough says hello.

After a few moments, he turns his head in her direction.

"Ah, hello there. I'm fine. Are you? I was just having a little trip. Off to Egypt with Carter. You know how it is."

"Me? I'm alright I suppose. It looked like you were all alone and... I wasn't sure. Egypt? Like a memory? Should I call anyone for you?"

Janie was concerned, and hoped she would be able to help if the man was unwell.

"Oh, quite, thank you for asking. Tenzing lent me a coat and a hat. Had to give them back, of course, when we reached base camp."

He looked at her with some surprise. "Ah! A Yank in our midst! Here to buy a few buildings, are you? Tycooning?" All of it said, naturally, with a friendly smile. "Well, welcome to the Stalag, but don't worry, we'll be tunneling out any day now."

((And look below :P ))

"Oh, heavens no, just now. You just missed him, he'd undoubtedly have given you an autograph."

He stood up with a sigh.

"So, what are you doing here? Visiting a Gran, I presume? No other reason to come within a hundred miles of our little prison camp here."

By which he means the Bayview Retirement Village.

"I like autographs. I've got this book that my Aunt gave me when I was a kid. Its got hers in it, and mines... and this band that I saw in school. So not much of a book..."

She walked over to see if he needed help.

"Do you need any help? I'm here to see if they want any volunteers to play the piano or lead activities... do they do that here? It doesn't look like a prison."

"You haven't tried the food."

He offered a hand. "Tom Ballard, resident loon. Come along then, we'll see if we can't rustle up a few old bats. You've already got a pianist."

Escaping on the prisoner camp or loony bin? Oh never mind, with you it could be both.

So what is on the agenda for today? Shall we roll that idiot Bains in coconut and bake him like a great macaroon.

Well, I was going to head down, see about getting us into another art class. Then, perhaps, a bender with Basil. You're more than welcome to join in, of course. We'll come back with the most annoying noisemakers we can find, use them outside his door after midnight.

No more nudes studies, thank you very much. The last time we could barely drag Basil away, the old Lothario was probably the best stationary model they'd seen in years.

Ahh noise makers, and shall we then find a paper bag to put canine excrement in a set it aflame like the conflagration of 1666? [The sarcasm was a hot as her tea]

[And probably liberally fed by gin, too.]

If you'd like. You've really worked your spite into a honed edge, today, haven't you? Is that your real leg, or did they replace it so you'd have an extra supply of it? Like a camel?

[A whiff of the old Beefeater poured to his cup as well]

You'll know it's me real leg when I spend the day kicking your backside up the garden lane and you find the lack of splinters.

[He laughed]

Diana, you may be slightly less polite than Attila the Hun, but you gain back quite a few points for consistency.

Attila and his Huns could only dream of the lands I have conquered, my empire ranges from the gently rolling hills of the croquet yard to the palatial expanses of the dining room, and all the sun touches between. [said with a grand sweep of her arm and a pointed stab with her cane.]

Edited 2012-08-03 05:01 (UTC)

[He grinned, nodding in acknowledgment]

And perhaps your Royal Sovereign self would submit to heading to said dining room to partake of some imperial nosh?

Only if Harvey is the poison checker!

[She rummages about on thetable for a moment, looking for something.]

Now where did I put that arsenic? I hear it adds a lovely almond flavor, and you know how Harvey is about nuts.

[He shook a finger at her]

No outright poisoning. Come now, you generally tend to draw the line at actual attempted homicide. Besides, I thought you were all for mental torment. Drive him batty through sheer bloody-minded awfulness and all that.

She laughs. "Do I look like a tycoon? My goodness. No, I was hoping to visit an old friend. I hope he hasn't gone and tunneled away already. I think I have an extra spoon in my bag, if that would be helpful."

Her purse is quite large and flowery and could no doubt hold several spoons, if not a garden trowel.

((I am all a-squee! I hope you don't mind a threadstalker.))

Oh Tom, you old duffer. Of course I wouldn't actually poison him, I'm a bitterness all my own. If I couldn't drive him to the loony bin by myself I'd take it as a insult to my personal pride.

You should form a league, you know. Cranky Sociopathic Bats, Bayview Division. Heavyweight class.

[There. That one ought to get her ire up.]

He laughs in return.

"Ah, I think you'll fit right in here. Avoid the idiot in charge, and if you can't, kick him somewhere vulnerable. Basil will make a pass at you, don't take it personally - he's the old goat around here. Other than that, welcome. And I can, perhaps, escort you to your friend?"

((Not at all. So nice to have an audience. :) ))

You had best watch your tongue, I'm welterweight at best! And should I decide to show off my pugilistic skills you might well be the first old bag I practice on.

[All sour faced and frowning.]

[He stood up then, gesturing at her to follow]

Now that I've helped get steam up in the old boilers - want to help me find an art class? I could use a Number One on this voyage.

[She fetched her walking stick and pulled herself to her feet.

And it was in that moment that the sickly sweet voice of Jane called out to them in greeting.

Diana rolled her eyes and gestured with her cane.]

We'd better make a break for it. I may be your second but I swear I hear number two just now.

Right, retreating on the double!

[quickly moving away from the bungalow was always a good idea. Jane was predictably methodical. Not *quite* as bad as Jeffrey in that regard, but she could be counted on to take her time coming outside to find them.]

One of these days, I'm going to fit that woman with a bell. Or make her swallow a clock.

Ha! That would be the way! Hear her like old Captain Hook. I suppose that would make Harvey Peter Pan...well at least he has the legs for tights.

[Diana moved with all the speed that could be mustered with her hip playing up as it was.]

[He quietly, without drawing attention to it, offered an arm. No sense in not taking help where it could be found. At least, he hoped she took that line of logic]

Also making him quite easy to see. Good for us, bad or the chances of late-night cabbies not noticing him at night.

[Her face puckered as thought she'd just bitten a lemon. But this was Tom, he would not offer her an arm out of implied weakness of body or character. He was, as trite as it seemed, an old gentleman. Too good, she sometimes thought, for the likes of herself. Perhaps that was why she was so hell bent on corrupting him.

She made a show of the effort involved in taking the arm, as if she just did it to appease him.]

You can be my escort, but if I find pound notes folded and slid into my waist band I'll drop you like your daughter in law drops the cooking sherry.

[He just laughed. She was a cantankerous old battle axe, but he wouldn't change her for the world. As for the corruption part, it was hardly necessary. He was just as willing to participate in their marginally-legal adventures as she was to initiate them.]

Sorry, Diana, that's how I make my money, not give it away. I 'shake my groove thing' and ladies practically throw bills at me. It is how El Cordobes makes his way in the world, when the bulls are on vacation.

[They were a fine pair, a fine pair of horrible old curmudgeons. She wouldn't trade it for anything either.]

Oh I can see it now, do you preform under the stage name of Adonis? Or is it Methuselah?

[He laughed]

More like the Creaker. Every gyration produces new and interesting noises.