The Needlehole Mysteries

Exams can be really stressful. It's not unusual to get sick when you finally have the time to relax a bit. Survival tactics perhaps.

He just needs some buckie and he will be fine.

Norc wrote:oh... yeah.. maybe i should start this time

I am on it.

Yey!

erm.. title? (Edit: Amarie snuck in and added the title)

Sgt Ringo put his toothbrush in his mouth as he tortured out the last bit of toothpaste. He had argued with this particular toothpaste for a month now. Now that pony cart expenses weren’t covered by the police office and his paycheck still remained rather low, he had to cut down on several things in his life to make the wheels turn. Alongside the toothpaste, he’d cut down on hair gel (which meant his hair wasn’t as groomed as it used to be and with all those curls it was an utter mess. The DI had pestered him a couple of time to “look proper at work”), he’d only been at the gym twice a week and lost four pounds (agent Nora had even put up a motherly tone and asked if he was feeling alright). It was either this or facing superintendent Elthir, and frankly, Ringo didn’t really like him. To be honest, he was rather scary. And he had put Eldo in jail once… His paycheck was of Fjordianlandian standards, which was okay, but everything in Forumshire was so bloody expensive. But trying to convince Elthir that he was underpaid wasn’t something he was eager to do. He might be sent home. So he simply was saving money for his own ride. And God help him.

Where will this one go? I love reading these.

I'm not feeling quite as sick anymore so now that Christmas is past I should be back to writing in the very near future.

*giggles*
Oh poor Ringo, what are we going to do with you this time?

Ringo had been checking the employment section in the News of the Pure and the notification board by the town hall.

Bouncer at the Much and Duck didn’t really appeal to him much. It was sure to be in conflict with his current job and his own moral standards. Besides, he needed his beauty sleep. But of course, the barmaids…

Assistant eel handler (“Flexible hours, must have a firm, but gentle grip and a healthy back.”) at mrs Figg’s did seem to have his name on it, though Eldo might feel he was invading his turf, so to speak.

Then there was towel boy at Ally’s esoteric bubble baths and poetry. He didn’t know what that might actually mean, but her business was doing very well.

Pony express rider for the Forumshire mail service, Newspaper collector for Ambassador Amarië... she had worn out three men this last month alone but Ringo was fairly certain he was strong enough to handle it. Then he shuddered slightly and read on.

Carrot controller at Dave’s farm, Evil Hench Man at We-ve-got-nothing-to-do-with-Odo Inc…

He ran his hand through his unruly hair and frowned. He had to choose something soon, he really wanted his own set of wheels with a some decent horse power in the front. And he really wanted some hair gel.

where to go from this, some of the jobs seems rather fun to play with

He could try them out and see how long he lasts.

'Carrot controller at Dave’s farm, Evil Hench Man at We-ve-got-nothing-to-do-with-Odo Inc'

this makes me miss Turembar.

Ringo first tried out as pony express rider for the Forumshire mail service, which really meant that he was Amarië’s personal mailman as forumshire inhabitans seldom got any mail and the newspaper only came out on special occasions (and then probably late). Though what little post the average citizen of Needlehole got, Amarië certainly made up for it. The mail-pony had been changed with a (terribly) large shire horse in order to pull the amount of newspapers, magazines, scrolls and letters and god knows what from the post office at the railway station, up the hill and to the ambassadors respectable (and very impressive) estate. Not to mention Ringo had to carry it all inside for her. He had to get up in an inhuman hour every day and the workout really made up for the cut down to the gym.

For some reason he didn’t want all of Needlehole to know about his extra job, especially Eldo and Nora, so he had asked Amarië to not mention it to anybody. The man at the post office must have been a relative of Petty because he was just gone. His brain melted away on post glue and a liver about the size and shape of a walnut. Amarië had promised to keep the job between the two of them, although Ringo was a bit skeptical at first. He knew how easy women could blab out stuff or eagerly tell secrets, but then he remembered how tricky and carefully she had been with her information when he and Nora had interrogated her, so he had taken her word for it.

Though the job turned out to be the death of him. Since he only ate oats-porridge he was so low on energy and losing a lot of weight, he hardly could function at the police office or at his so-called part time job. The part time job turned out the be a more or less all-time-consuming job as Amarië got him to do all sort of errands. He once had to go down to the shop and hoard tampons. When he’d met Orwell at the store he’d asked who they were for. In the bewilderment he’d said Nora, and utterly regretted it. “Those are rather large..” Orwell had said thoughtfully “and I saw her buying lots of them just a week ago…” “Heavy one” Ringo had said knowingly and hurried off. He hoped Nora never found out or she would probably kick him so hard he would feel his balls tickling his adam apple.

No, he had to find a way to quit this job, only the thought of rejecting Amarië wasn’t very tempting. He understood wholeheartedly why the mailman was so frequently changed.

*dies* Poor Ringo!

Mrs Figg wrote:this makes me miss Turembar.

You can play with us? The more the merrier crazier!

thanks Amarie but I like reading you two Ffyordlandians and seeing what you get up to.

who's turn is it now? Amarië?

Yup, haven't had time. I'm trying to get the ball rolling.

“You absolute clodpoll Nora! Of course I need to update Adobe Reader!”
Nora sighed. The older you got, she reflected, the more intelligent the insults became; and although she failed to spot the reference Odo assured her it was an insult of the highest quality.
“OK, let’s open up Forumbook Odo.” snapped Nora. “And by the way, helping you orgainze your friends list is NOT an emergency.”
“Oh, look Odo! You have a message here from Orc and Goblin Mercenary Services...is it true you cancelled their Christmas party?” said Nora.
Odo remained silent.
“There’s a lawsuit here for your International Eagle Airlines...” Nora continued before Odo shouted at her.
“Okay, let us get back to our original purpose- sorting out my friends list.”
Nora looked up at Odo before navigating to his friends list.
“8000 friends here Odo- surely you don’t know them all!” exclaimed Nora.
“Walk a mile in my shoes Nora, I am a titan of industry, entrepreneur, a media mogul- of course I do!” replied Odo.
“Well Odo, if you were to walk a mile in my shoes, you'd probably be pretty uncomfortable since I wear decapitated human heads for shoes.”
“Moving on...” said Odo and the pair of them got back to work.
After an hour of hard work they had managed to create a list of 500 people who Odo had not heard from for a reasonably long length of time.

“Are you sure it is safe to remove them as friends Nora?” asked Odo as Nora was leaving his house.
“Well do you ever talk to them?” replied Nora.
“No. They’re all dead.” answered Odo.
“Well I guess it’s safe to unfriend them then.” and Nora closed the door behind her.

unless odo wants to be haunted.

Ringo had now reached his 14th day on the job, the weather was wet and the roads muddy and his hair a mess. No, this was no fun. No fun at all. The pay did not match the workload, but the glittering piece of mithril Amarië had slipped into his pocket the eight day ‘for service well rendered’ did make up for a bit.

He had hoped the stop at the embassy would be a quick one. He really wanted to go home and sleep if only for a few minutes. Unfortunately the ambassador had some urgent outgoing mail she had not quite finished preparing, and she asked him to join her in her study while she finished.

- Do have a seat while you wait. It will only take a minute.

Ringo collapsed into the chair as casually and manly as he could manage. It was a cushioned chair with ornate wood carvings on the back and armrests shaped as dragons’ heads.

It was too early for the embassy staff to have arrived. The only sound he could hear was the even scratchy sound of pen writing on paper and the crackling fire in the fireplace. His eyes trail over the paintings and the back of books in the bookshelves. The flickering light gave life to the golden letters and decorations and he quietly wondered how Amarië could possibly have time to read all these books as well as managing all the incoming mail.

Too late does he realize he had forgotten to be aware of his surroundings and failed to make a note of the possible escape routes. Rookie mistake, curses! The ambassador had moved over and he was cornered. She leans down, one finger moves under his chin and gently lifting his face to face her. Then she grabs hold of his jaw, making his lips pursed and fish like.

- What is this? A Fjordian Sargent caught of his guard?

Ringo is suddenly 100% focused and a multitude of possible scenarios and self-defence strategies rush through his head, as well as a few dance moves he had practised.
The ambassador tilts her head slightly and studies him.

- My dear Herring, she says in Fjordian.
- You do not look well at all. Are you eating properly?

- Ish shush sheh whu! Insisted Ringo through fishy lips.

Amarië was used to the gibberish of Petty’s so called “dialect”, so she had no trouble deciphering this at all.

- 'Just the flu' indeed. How would it look if you collapsed on my doorstep? No, that just won't do. That won’t do at all. I have just the thing you need.

Smiling secretly, she ducks into a cupboard. Ringo hears the sound of bottles being moved, and she emerges with a slightly devious smile, holding a familiar looking green bottle in one hand and a spoon in the other.

- Tran! she said. Open wide!

Ringo squirms. Cod liver oil imported from Fjordlandia. Oh joy…

A scandal amongst Fjordlandians! Do tell more.

Oh there'll be more, we have a lot of jobs for poor Ringo to try out.
How are YOU getting along, Eldo? Hm?

I'm trying to balance various story ideas I have gnawing away at me with the other stuff I have to do, but there's still Needlehole stuff that I'm working on.