The Millenium Birthday Affair
So far, the year 2000 had been quiet. That is, until March 3rd rolled around. Lynda and Brenda may be another year older, but they still haven't lost their penchant for chaos and mayhem.
The day started in the normal routine. Brenda went through the never-ending schoolmorning ritual of physically dragging Antoinette out the door and into the Jeep, calling to make sure that the tutor she'd hired for the boys was coming that day instead of carrying out his threat to skip the country as well as making sure Illya got out of the front door on time and in one piece.
Lynda's morning was no less hectic. She checked her closet to make sure whatever she was planning to wear was in there, untouched. Then, upon finding part of her ensemble missing, yanked a missing jacket and hat off Amy before she could sneak out the kitchen door. She finally collapsed at the bar in the kitchen with her cappucino around 8:00 and quietly savored the peace and quiet.
It didn't last long. Mona, her longtime housekeeper/nanny, had started the vacuum cleaner and the faint humming interrupted Lynda's train of thought. So, she went upstairs and got dressed and , after putting her makeup and jewelry on, she moseyed on over to Brenda's.
Brenda was upstairs, her morning solitude not lasting any longer than her twin's and was in the shower. Lynda ignored the housekeeper and took off her shoes to sneak up the steps. A quick check in both directions once she stepped into the second floor hall and she slipped into the master suite, quiet as a mouse. Hearing the water running from the bathroom, she slipped out of her clothes and , naked as the day she was born, eased into the bathroom and opened the shower door. "Honey, I'm home!" she announced. "What's for breakfast?"
Brenda broke out laughing hysterically until tears rolled down her face. "Jesus Christ, Lynda!" she squealed in mock horror. "This isn't my week for girls." She cut the water off and took the bathrobe her sister handed over and wrapped herself in it. "Didn't get any last night, did we?" she slyly asked.
"Of course I did." Lynda grinned. "Just thought I'd say Happy Birthday."
"As only you can, I'm sure," she giggled, towel-drying her hair. "You didn't take your Lithium this morning," she remarked.
"Nope. Got too many ideas rolling around right now." Lynda perched herself on the commode seat and helped herself to a cigarette.
"Such as?" Brenda asked, not being able to stand the suspense.
Lynda got up without a word and went into the bedroom. Looking through her purse, she found a note and took it into the bathroom. She handed it to Brenda and sat back down on her throne.
Brenda read it. "Hmmm," she started. "I found one just like it this morning." She flicked her ashes into a crystal ashtray on one side of the double vanity. "I guess there's only one way to find out what's there."
A little while later, the girls found themselves at a private airplane hangar at Kennedy Airport, staring in shock at a gleaming white Concorde SST with dark teal trim. Both their mouths were open and their eyes were glazed over. "Uh, uh," Brenda started after a couple of minutes.
"Hello?" Lynda asked weakly. "Pinch me. I'm dreaming."
Brenda turned slowly and looked at her sister. "What's the possibility of both of us having the same dream at the exact same time?"
"Shall we?" Lynda grinned, holding out her arm.
"Hell, why not?" Brenda grinned in return, taking hold of Lynda's arm. "My will's in order."
"Oh good," Lynda sighed. "And who gets the husband?"
"Illya's on his own. I've willed the kids to Saddam Hussein."
"I'm doing the world a favor and leaving mine to Kowalski," Lynda laughed uproariously as they walked up the steps and into the plane.
"He'll be cursing your name," Brenda remarked.
"Hell, he curses my name now and has for years, remember? What's the damn difference?" She shrugged.
The girls spent several minutes looking around the fully equipped, yet luxurious plane. It had all the ammenities: a giant-screen tv, dvd player, stereo system, computer system, hot tub, a fully stocked bar. The seating was teal leather with mahogany wood trimwork all around.
The girls were breathless at the sight, to say the least. The barely had enough energy to make it into the cockpit and sit down in the pilots' chairs. "Our very own plane," Brenda whispered, looking over all the various controls. "Let's take her out and spread her wings a bit."
"Sounds good to me," Lynda nodded, fastening her seatbelt and putting on a pair of headphones. "Play me some Donna Summer, would you?"
"If I can find the stereo system in here, I will," Brenda mumbled, pushing buttons and playing with the knobs. The engines came on and she looked around under the seat. She noticed something and pulled out a book: Learn to Fly the Concorde for Dummies. "Hey!" she barked, mifed at the sight. "Dummies? I'll show them." She opened the book and started scanning and flipping switches.
Within seconds, the sleek Concorde made its way down the runway at a fast pace, sending other planes running for cover. The nose lifted upward and a flock of birds screeched in terror, sharply diving to avoid getting run over.
The view was wonderful. Everything started getting smaller and smaller until they disappeared into thin air. Lynda fumbled around after finding a radio and grudgingly settled for a soft rock station. The nose had since lifted back up and all was well. Soft, cotton-like clouds greeted them in a warm embrace, the sun was peeking through to say hello. It was almost too good to be real.
Almost. Brenda sat, humming to herself, looking through the book and suddenly looked up. The clouds that were white and billowy just a couple of minutes ago had turned an angry gray, almost demonical. "I didn't know rain was coming in."
"Either that or Grandaddy's rolling over in his grave," Lynda commented. she turned on the headset and asked "Should we radio in for a weather report?"
Brenda shrugged. "I guess."
"What do you mean you guess?" Lynda shrieked. "You're supposed to know."
"I don't know," she defended. "I haven't gotten that far in the book yet."
"You mean you don't know how to land this goddamned bird?"
"Don't yell, Lynda. It doesn't help. Besides, maybe they'll just go on by us."
"Look Brenda, you're supposed to know how to fly a plane."
Brenda turned to look at her. "I could fly Grandaddy's old 747 like the back of my hand, but this is a bit different. How was I supposed to know we were getting a new plane for our birthday?" She sighed. "You're supposed to be a genius. You land this thing." She leaned over to smack at Lynda, accidentally bumping the automatic pilot off and nudging the control yoke, sending the plane down. "Now look what you've made me do," she screeched, yanking the yoke back toward her and finally leveling off the plane. She reset the automatic pilot without first checking the altitude and kicked back. "I think I've got it." She closed her eyes for a moment.
Lynda looked out the window to see the clouds gone and a control tower in the distance. "Brenda!" she screeched, looking at the altitude indicator to see they weren't as high up as they thought. "We've got a problem."
Brenda jerked her eyes open and instantly froze. "Oh Hell," she gulped. "Find the parachutes! I don't think I can turn right now."
Lynda was already up and opened up a small closet door to a couple of parachutes. She yanked them out and put one of them on. "Here."
Brenda scrambled out of her seat and hurriedly fastened herself into the other one. She looked one last time to see the figure of the control tower getting larger and all the controls were going haywire. Alarms went off and the volume was almost deafening. She followed Lynda out of the cockpit in a semi-dreamlike state and they made a hasty exit ouf the side door.
And not a moment too soon. No sooner had their parachutes opened, the Concorde plowed into the top of the control tower, creating a huge fireball that could be seen for miles.
The parachutes floated through the air like giant mushrooms for a few minutes before coming down in a nest of trees on a mountainside. Lynda looked around and then made the fatal mistake of looking down. "What the hell is it about trees?"
Brenda was just as shocked. "Not again," she moaned, rolling her eyes skyward. She looked over at her sister, who was in a nearby tree. "Peep, peep!" she hollered.
"This ain't funny and you know it," Lynda hollered back. "Now just how are we going to get down from here, Oh Holy Genius?"
"This was all your idea, Lynda Josephine, so don't lay this at my doorstep," Brenda complained. "We've just totaled a thrity million dollar plane and you want to gripe and bitch."
"I'm not bitching," Lynda replied. "I'm just asking how in Hell are we going to get down from here and get home."
"Why didn't you think of that before you brought me along on this joyride from Hell?"
"Brenda, really, you're making too much out of this," she moaned, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a cellular phone.
"You think that phone's gonna dial out from here?"
"It might." Lynda started punching in numbers and put the phone to her ear to wait. Three rings and the answering maching came on. "You've reached the New York Headquarters for the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement," a recorded voice rambled. "If you know your party's extension, please enter it now. If not, wait on the line for the next available person."
Lynda punched more numbers and waited. Then a chirpy, female answered "Mr. Solo's office."
"Hi Betty," Lynda purred. "It's your secret admirer again. I've been waiting here, naked, for you all day long."
"Ohh-kay," Betty laughed. "Do I really want to know where you are, Lynda? Hold on a sec, I'll get him for you."
"I'm sick and tired of secs," she moaned. "How about just some foreplay?"
"How about remembering your Lithium?" she groaned. Back at the office, Betty pushed the hold button and pressed another one.
"What is it?" Napoleon asked through the intercom.
"If you're waiting for a good piece, pick up on Line Three."
"Did she say where she was?"
"Nope. But she said she'd been waiting for me all day long - naked."
"Sorry about that, Betty. I'll make sure Lynda gets back on the LIthium." He pushed a button and asked through the speakerphone. "Where are you, Sweetheart?"
"Does it matter right now?" she asked, sounding a bit tired. "By the way, me and Brenda really loved our birthday present. That is, until it went up in smoke and flames."
"Your birthday present?" he asked, sitting bolt upright in his chair.
"The Concorde, honey. Brenda really liked the Flying the Concorde for Dummies book."
"Uh, well, you're welcome," he answered, not wanting to know the details. "I take it she's there with you."
"Yeah, but she's being a real bitch right now."
"Okay. What are the two of you up to at the moment?"
"Well, we're just hanging out," she started. "In a tree. On a mountainside. From parachutes."
"Oh, you've been skydiving. How did you like it?"
"Smartass," she grunted. "How about sending a damn ladder?"
"I'm on my was as soon as I can track you." He clicked on the mouse and a window opened on the Windows 98 screen. He typed in a number sequence and a message box reading "Tracking begun" came up. He clicked "ok" and waited. A few seconds later, a map appeared of Pennsylvania. A red arrow pointed to a mountain region and he zoomed in full. "Okay, I found you," he replied. "I'll be there asap."
A loud crack of thunder was heard and the sky turned dark. Lynda smelled rain coming. "Make it quick. We're about to become drowned rats out here."
"Don't forget to scrub behind your ears," he laughed. "The same goes for Brenda." He disconnected the call and dialed an extension. A moment later, Illya's voice came through. "Kuryakin."
"Illya," Napoleon started, still laughing as he sent the results to Illya's computer. "You're not going to believe this."
"Try me," he replied dryly. He saw the tracker program come up on his screen, with the map. "Who's lost in the mountains of Pennsylvania?"
"How many guesses do you want?"
He sighed. "They've found the Concorde."
"Uh-huh, Would you like to guess how many pieces it's in now?"
"I hear the auditors screaming now." He got up and grabbed his coat. "I'll be there in a minute."
Approximately four hours later, in the middle of a severe thunderstorm, a soaking wet pair of ladies were pulled out of the trees in the Appalachian mountains of Pennsylvania and pulled into a helicopter by a pulley. And they were still griping and sniping at each other even after they got into the chopper, much to the disamy of the young man piloting the craft. "Would you two please shut up?" she asked.
"Hell, no!" they both yelled back in unison. "It's all your fault, Dawson."
"How was this my fault? That plane was bought for use by UNCLE and you two totaled it. How do you figure it's my fault?"
"The notes from this morning," Brenda quipped.
"Brenda, I left those notes for Illya and Napoleon so they'd know that plane was where it was supposed to be. Besides, who in their right mind would spend thrity million on an airplane just so you two could go out and crash it into a control tower?"
"I could have your file closed for this," Lynda threatened.
"Sure you could, Lynda. And if I wanted to, I could just fly over the Atlantic and push the two of you out to sea and your husbands wouldn't be any the wiser." He thought on that for a moment. "Come to think of it, they'd probably thank me."
"I think I'd rather listen to Kowalski bitch," Lynda yawned.
"He declined the invitation," Dawson winked. "He said, and I quote, 'I would rather have my dick cut off than go and rescue those overgrown brats from Hell.'"
"You fogot, I have UPS on speed-dial," Lynda slyly replied. "Ask Kowalksi what happened to him on my honeymoon?"
"And while you're at it," Brenda butted in, "stop by the Federal Prision in Arizona and ask a former UNCLE agent named Travers about his birthday present from ten years ago."
Dawson shook his head. "Okay, I'll shut up now before I find myself with a new boyfriend." He radioed in to let Headquarters know he had both ladies. He released the mike button and asked "Would the two of you like to stop by Bellevue on the way home and recharge your batteries?"
