WHOLESOME TALES

The Adventures of Captain Orwell Jack McOdo


continued


Queen Amarie didn't so much have a palace as a Fashion House, but not the kind of Fashion House anyone with the merest smidgeon of taste would visit. And Captain Jack knew immediately why he had been brought here.

"It's Alpha Centauri Prime all over again," he whispered to Ginger as the two Tomboys (Norc and Ally, that is) led him into a veritable sea of colour.

There was nothing wrong with the colours, of course, but just in their choice and alignment. I'm talking about the costumes on the racks along the walls. And there were thousands. Frocks! Frocks! Frocks! There were thousands! Oh I already said that! And they were ghastly!

"Miaow miaow miaow miaow Miaow?"

"I don't know where she is, Puss, and I wish you wouldn't swear... No, there she is. Hey Queen Amarie... yes, I can see you in that sea of torquise silk tumbled together rather recklessly within that pile of salmon red chantilly lace and pea-green tafeta....{{{I wonder what is with Amarie and tafeta? }}} ... And why is your eye-liner all smudgy? Have you been weeping?... Oh I see - it's your boxy besequinned grey mohair cardigan with orange bands and pale blue pokadot hotpants. Would bring tears to almost anyone's eyes - well, anyone with a skerrick of good taste... Why? Why? Why?"

A bespectacled blue eyed brown haired lady timidly poked her head out of a ruffle of turquoise silk. You could say she had a rather pleasant face - if your expectations weren't too high - and a rather well proportioned face too, one that just now bore an expression that said neither said Yes or No, which was just so typical of a woman's face.

"You must help me Captain Jack!" she cried.

"I can see that... Why grey mohair and orange bands, Amarie? Why?"

"My henchgirls thought I looked good in grey with orange bands..." Amarie mumbled, hiding her face in her hands.

"Miaow miaow miaow miaow miaow?"

"Yes, Norc and Ally! Do you think I'd come up withat combination myself, Miss Smarty-cat!" Amarie snapped , as she could talk fluent Pussy.

"What's worse - you have blue eyes! - I mean to say!" Captain Jack expostulated.

Norc and Ally looked suddenly sheepish and started kicking nearby bolts of grey chiffon in embarrassment, and Amarie began to cry...


to be continued....

The Adventures of Captain Orwell Jack McOdo

continued...


"Miaow miaow miaow!"

"Yes, she is a pathetic lady, Ginger, at least as far as Fashion Sense goes - but I, Captain Jack, am here now. I'll set things straight here."

And in a trice - or perhaps slightly longer - Captain Jack set things straight and it's said even today he is Queen Amarie's Fashion Confidante, and she barely ever makes a misstep.

Of course, Norc and Ally were exiled to Tomboy Planet Six, which is what they deserved. Some say that one day they will learn to dress with better taste, and be feminine, and lure a boyfriend or two, but personally I can't see it.


THE END

Captain Jack

He is rather a hero --- especially when it comes to knowledge of fabrics and fads, and frocks - and the ladies that wear them - providing they're attractive ladies like you, Amarie, which goes without saying.

THERE AND BACK AGAIN
(Or “Finding Odo”)

Chapter One:
A Rather Unexpected Get Together in Orwell’s Hole.

Once upon a time, not all that long ago – only last week in fact, though you, dear reader, may need henceforth to prepare yourself to encounter a host of outrageous anachronisms and time-warped scenarios in this tale - there was an Ozhobbit called Orwell Jackaboots McOdo.

One evening, when things were greener generally -as oft has been said in tales of the Wholesome Tales Thread - Orwell was sitting in his armchair in his sitting room in the light of a candlestick weeping into his hands.

“Oh woe!” said he. “Odo has been gone a long time now, along with the other members of his family – save Anne Dashing-Banks who is still around somewhere - and though everyone thinks he was murdered by Sir Rupert Dashing I know he wasn’t, but he’s not back from his secret mission to Mirkwood yet and I can only assume the worst!”

Now, dear reader, you may think this an odd thing; that is, for someone to have such a peculiar conversation with himself in the quietude of his hole, but it is not an uncommon occurrence in Forumshire, especially on the Wholesome Tales thread (apparently).

As it happened, Julia, a beautiful fairy, was just then peeping through Orwell’s window - she having often come down from a nearby Fairy Ring to cast an admiring eye on that (I must be totally frank and honest here!) gorgeous hunk of a hobbit Orwell, and seeing him in such emotional straights, her heart was moved (yet again as usual), and she tapped delicately upon his window-glass.

Orwell nearly jumped out of his skin – not literally – and rushed to see who was tapping. When he pulled back the curtain, his eyes fell upon her red-haired fairy loveliness, and his heart seemed to swell, and his eyes shone brightly, and love gurgled in his loins, and he gasped, “Who are you - yes you whom in the light of the Evenstar seem clearly to be set among the fairest of the Maidens (loosely speaking) of Forumshire?”

“I am Julia the Mild, a fair fairy.”

Orwell blinked and straight away he mused, “I think I’ve heard of you... Julia...??? “The Mild’ you say?”

Julia said: “Open the friggin’ door, you idiot!”

“Yes, Miss!” Orwell acquiesced immediately, jumping to do her bidding, as it is never wise to contradict a fairy – especially if they have red hair – in Forumshire - or so it’s said.

“Would you like some tea?” Orwell asked politely as he stood - a little nervously- in the doorway shortly after. He was instantly enamoured of her, she being so beautiful and all, but he too felt some trepidation, as there was something in her eyes that told him “Careful what you say, matey! Or I might just rip off part of your anatomy with my teeth.”

“Tea would be nice," Julia smiled demurely. "And some seedcake – something I can really sink my teeth into.”

”Yes, Miss,” Orwell squeaked and scuttled off swiftly to his pantry.

Not long after, with Julia the Mild reclining in Orwell’s armchair, and him sitting on a couch at a safe distance, Julia said, “Now you must tell me what you were weeping so pathetically into your hands about, my dear spurterpants?”

“I was not weeping,” Orwell protested masculinely.

“Cut the crap! What’s the problem?”

Seeing the cast of her eye, and the hardness of her knee poking out beneath the hem of her mid-length skirt of silvery spider-silk, Orwell swallowed and decided to come clean. “It's my employer, Odo Banks, and his family Wisey, Mirabella and Biffo. Some say as they were murdered but they weren’t. For they had gone off secretly to Mirkwood...”

“Yeah, yeah and yeah,” Julia yawned, “I got the drift from your pathetic monologue earlier... What I mean is – why would you be crying over him? Wisey and Mirabella and Biffo I can understand – but Odo? Give me a break.”

“Yes – but without a job I won’t be able to afford to rent my hole anymore.”

“I'l let that pass, I think... Hey! Do you only rent this comfortable free of sand and mud and worm-ends hole?”

“Yes – it’s owned by one of the Odo Banks and Family companies.”

“Which one?”

“I’m not sure which one --- one of them – it varies depending on what Tax Law loophole is available at any gven time...”

“I’ve heard from the buttercups that a certain Scots arsehole - Petty McTyrant by name - has inherited all Odo’s worldly goods...”

“You know him?”

“Of course I do, you dick! I’ve never really liked that Scotshobbit - though it’s not commonly known! - the beady eyed bastard.”

“I would never have called him 'beady eyed'.”

“I said ‘beady eyed!’ Alright!”

“Yes, Miss!”

“What a horrid idea that he would ever fall on good times, that lifelong impoverished bastard!”

“Well, that’s not exactly true... At least, the 'fall on good times' bit.”

“What do you mean?"

“Well, under Unwritten Forumshire Law, Petty can’t inherit anything until Odo and his family are all confirmed dead, or they’ve been missing for a Forumshire calendar year.”

“How long have they been missing?”

“In real time, about two weeks, but in Forumshiran time.. um... awhile... but less than a year, I’m tipping.”

“Is there time to go on a quest to Mirkwood and rescue them from Dol Guldur before Petty comes into the inheritance?”

“What! Sorry to interrupt - but are saying the Bankses might have all been captured by Sauron after his Elemental Shade fled there after that business of the One Ring of Power?”

“Well, it does seem to me to be the most likely possibility, you gorgeous hunky somewhat dim-witted hobbit,” opined Julia.

“Yes,” Orwell mused, scratching his fine chiselled chin thoughtfully (this was in the days before his jowells started growing and his face became more fleshy, mind). “It does seem the best possibility, now you mention it.”

“So, we must be off ere break of day to rescue them.”

“It sounds dangerous? Are you quite sure you need my help?"

“Yes – and don’t try to get out of it. Do you want to have somewhere to live?”

"I could always forget Odo and come and live with you, couldn’t I? I must say, I’m quite keen to see your Fairy Ring.”

“And one day you will, but time enough for that, Poppet. We’ll need help, of course.”

Then Julia pulled out a flute from somewhere amid her person and she sent out eleven trills. And ipso facto there came an immediate knocking at Orwell’s door, as if eleven people had suddenly turned up there.

“There you go,” Julia said quite pleased with herself. “Eleven Questers have arrived.”

“Do you have magic powers?” Orwell asked in impressed surprise.

“Not at all – but you have to admit this typical authorial stunt will save time. You must know by now how lazy old Anon Author is when it comes to setting up story lines...”

Orwell hurried to open the door of his commodious hole, and who should push their rude way in but half the Forumshiran neighbourhood!

I’ll list them to save time.

Aleek (a Whelsh hobgoblin),

Neek (a Fjordianlandian hobgoblin),

Davidee the Shapeshifter (he could turn into a – rather large - carrot),

Halfy the Hairy (what kind of creature he was no one really knew; tho there were those who suspected he was a Whelshhaggis),

Eldo Bossyboots (some also knew him as Eldo the Son of Pompous),

Amarie (a secretive and sly fairy who always wore diaphonous see-through clothing - usually pink or another soft pastel - which never concealed any of her secrets whatsoever),

Azriel (a fairy who was formerly a truck driver in Southern England – back before the sex change, I mean),

Lance (who was another English fairy, but who had yet to undergo surgery),

Recoveryanonymous (who we shall call Rodney – as – let’s be honest – Recoveryanonymous is too long to keep typing out in full over and over),

Tin (who in this tale isn’t Luthien Tinuviel but a common old fairy – not saying Tin is common, mind!),

And Ringo (a Fjordianlandian Trollop and excellent drummer).

There, I hope I’ve included enough folk worthy of incessant teasing and verbal abuse.

“Come in, come in,” Julia called from the kitchen. "I’m cooking up some Tuscan-style tasties. “

Orwell frowned. He hoped they didn’t eat everything in his larders.

By the time he got there, his twelve guests were pigging away like... um... pigs I guess.

“Hey!” Orwell cried hopefully. “There’re thirteen of us. I better not go with you on this dangerous adventure then. I mean. If I go, I’m bound to be Mister Unlucky Number, won’t I?”

“No, that’d be Halfy I’m sure,” said Davidee. “Is that right, Halfy?”

“Darn right!” answered Halfy as he thrust sardines into a hole that appeared amid his hair.

“And I’m not going if Halfy’s not,” averred Rodney for reasons known only to himself (and perhaps so I can get his character started).

“No one gets left behind,” said Neeek, who was a fan of Lilo and Stitch, and who here isn’t?

“That’s right,” Julia said. “Who can we ask to make our Fourteenth member?”

“What about Elthir?” suggested Lance (as we need to get him started as well, of course).

“Too serious for this kind of thing I would have thought – I might be wrong though,” said Eldo.

Halfy whispered to Davidee, “He’s jealous you know. Both Lore Masters, you see... Nothing worse than academic rivalries.”

‘I see, “ said Davidee. “Fancy two Lore Masters on the same quest anyhow.. How very boring!”

“Boring enough with one,” Halfy tittered.

"I didn’t say that,” Orwell said to Eldo on overhearing their conversation. “Just in case you heard that, I mean. It was Halfy and Davidee talking about how boring you are. I’d never say you were a boring old Lore Master. Never ever, no way, Eldo!”

Eldo glowered but said nothing (for a change)(which was nice).

“What about Petty McTyrant?” Neeek asked. “That way they’d be someone more ugly and stupid and boring than Aleeek and myself on the quest.”

“I’m not ugly and stupid and boring,” Aleeek protested.

“You're quite ugly by hobgoblin standards though,” Orwell helped.

Aleeek glowered and went to sulk in a corner with Eldo.

“I’ll never go on a quest with that arsehole,” Julia cried.

“I assume you mean, Petty." Azriel said (getting started too).

"Well, considering the chances are we’ll all be killed on the way, what does it matter?” asked Lance wisely.

“Including Petty?” Julia mused aloud.

“And even if Petty doesn't get violently disembowelled by an ogre and eaten in a noxious casserole," Aleek piped up, "it would surely be kind of ironic would it not, if it turned out Petty helped save Odo and therein derail his plans to inherit Odo’s wealth – ironic, what? There is an enticing esoteric quality in the prospect!”

“Not really esoteric – but you do have a point, Aleeek,” said Amarie, as it was about time she said something.

Everyone looked at her and admired her pretty pink frock. Orwell especially approved of it.

“Alright! If we must!” Julia put her flute to her lips again and she let out one trill – from her flute, that is, though Rodney (who was standing behind her just then) looked confused and slightly embarrassed for a moment. You see, Rodney had never been in a Wholesome Tale before and he was not used to this kind of ambiguity yet.

Instantly, a loud knock came on the door. On Orwell opening it, an ugly drunken shrunken charicature of a Scotshobbit fell into the entrance hall and flat on his face on the floor.

“Wot the fook um eye been summonzed from mee wee barrel afore, me laddie?”

“You’re coming on a quest,” Orwell told him sadly.

“Aye! That’d be fookin’ right!”



To be continued...

ANGMAR! Call yourself a lawyer? What this year thing subclause malarky? What do you mean you dont call yourself a lawyer you call yourself the Collector of Souls, the Wraith of Malice, the Purveyor of Doom?- that is a description of a f**king lawyer!

I've been editng for Anon, Petty. If I edit under my account, no one can see evidence of my editing! It's great! Ahh! The Powers of a Moderator!

(First draft was crap - but it's a wee bit better now, I hope. )

{{{{I'm certainly not saying this Orwell, so dont think I am- but I would say that may be my favourite and Anon's best Wholesome Tale opening so far, well it would be, if I was saying that, which I'm not!}}}}

{{{I know what you're saying... I'll pass it on to ol' Anon -- he'll be pleased, I'm sure! Just between you and I, of course. And - of course! - Odo must NEVER EVER know! }}}

BEST EVER STOREEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“I’ll never go on a quest with that arsehole,” Julia cried.

nope I wuldnt, but its artistic licence innit?

Lance (who was another English fairy, but who had yet to undergo surgery),

I thought Elthir was the mysterious horse, the Grey or nearly white? you need a horse on a Quest.
and you need a wizard. Is GB coming too? or is Eldo his apprentice?

I imagine fourteen is the key number here - but I'm sure as Anon remembers everyone he's (theoretically) forgotten, he'll add them in some way or other, and probably to their cost as that is how things tend to go in Forumshiran tales, or so it's said, Mrs Figg.

yipee cant wait for the Quest to go on. will the fairy julia fall into an enchanted river and suddenly become, er, enamoured of the grumpy dwarf Petty McTyrant? I am a bit clumsy round rivulets, I always seem to get my shoes wet.

Oh my god!! I fooking loved it! VERY funny! CARRY ON !!

I'll let Anon Author (from the Bugle) know, Azriel. I'm well aware he responds well to praise. Not that he's vain or big headed. He's a lot like me in that way.

Rodney? You're right, Orwell, I'm excited to see Rodney's character development

Now, I should make it clear Recoveryanonymous (or "Rodney" if you don't mind, I know I don't ), ol' Anon Author is an Archet Bugle staff writer who tends to disravel, deconconstruct, decode, discombobulate, devise and distort a persons character. He also tends to rewrite, revise and renovate a persons history, philosophies and anything to do with his/her factual-existence if it amuses him to do so --- And - Oh yes! - everything he writes is purely fictional, based on no persn living or dead, even if sometimes it may blatantly appear he is talking plainly about people living or dead - this even when he uses (amd/or abuses) the names of actual Forumshirans, which he clearly only ever does so [i]coincidentally and never ever malignantly (sometimes); this for legal reasons, not just fictional.

hey Orwell, just get on with it will you.

Yeah less waffle more story Anon!

Every Anon Author - in my experience Mrs Figg and Petty - has his own set of disclaimers -- especially our Anon Author... it's in his book under self-preservation. As his editor, I feel obliged to remind people of that.

{{{"Get on with it!" How rude! If I didn't know better, I'd say ol' Anon has depicted the real 'Julia' quite well - and not some purely fictional creation - tho only 'coincidentally', of course.... I won't even comment on Petty.. - well, not me anyhow.. who is to say what Anon will have to say about him... }}}

probably.

should I bother to read the latest entry?

well if you want to find out what happens to Neek and her friends you should.

I do !