2-18-01
TRIO CHALLENGE: Misplaced accent, cigar, Wheel of Fortune tarot card
or
QUOTE CHALLENGE: From Lisa: "But that was in another country, and besides the wench is dead" - Marlowe
Authors:
Anthony, Dea, JoLayne, Maril
OUR GUEST TONIGHT
By Anthony
[email protected]
Challenge Response to Ch#5 c'mon, with a word like that, sheesh.
~~~~~
Tessa Alvarado, dressed as the Queen Of Swords, rode her black horse across the desert landscape in pursuit of the villains.
When she was alongside the commandeered wagon full of Montoya's gold, she decided to do a little commandeering of her own. "Pull over."
"Zi, zenuritah," the driver told her, a huge Havana cigar in the corner of his mouth...making part of Tessa's mind wonder why does it say 1946 on it?
"Who are you?" she asked, once the wagon had come to a complete stop. "And why are you here?"
"I have alwayz livd 'n Kalivorna," the driver told her.
"Tell me the truth," she insisted, one hand on her sword.
"Fine, you got me," the driver said clearly. "And I've got you -" when she looked suitably alarmed...
"...On national television, and syndication in 63 countries.
"Queeny, welcome to -"
"WHEEL," the audience shouted, "OF. FORTUNE!"
The Queen's mouth just hung open.
"If you'll be so kind as to turn the letters when their boxes light up," the host asked, "then we can get started."
The contestants turned out to be doctor Helm and Colonel Montoya from Santa Helena, and some scrawny man named B.Gates.
Several rows of boxes appeared behind Tessa abruptly; three short rows, to be precise. The words hinting at what it was appeared below her feet. Seeing what they said - 'the Queen of Sword's true identity' - Tessa reached for her whip.
The host appeared suitably cowed by that. "Okay, let's jump ahead to our next one." Even more rows appeared behind Tessa-as-Queen, and the hinting text changed to read 'Something said by Marlowe.' "Dr. Helm, you can spin the wheel first."
Helm stared at the wheel.
"Oh for God's sake," the host exclaimed, and was nearly shot by Grisham and Montoya for blasphemy. The host, once he recovered from a almost-not-so-minor heart attack, spun the wheel, showing the contestants how it was done.
The wheel slowed, and stopped on $25. "Now you guess a consonant," the host advised.
"B," Helm said. Two squares lit up. "'But that was in another country, and besides the wench is dead.'"
Robert Helm looked satisfied with himself....a mood shattered by - "I'm sorry, Doctor Helm, but you only won fifty dollars."
Helm's eyes nearly bugged out. "'Only'?? I could buy a ship for that kind of money - and equip it too!"
The host looked heavenwards, praying for help.
END
SCENES FROM A MIRROR
Challenge Story #5
By Dea
[email protected]
Challenge: misplaced accent, cigar, Wheel of Fortune tarot card
~~~~~
Dr. Robert Helm rubbed a hand over his face. Feeling the night's worth of growth, he gathered up his straight razor, shaving cream, basin and towel. Slinging the towel over his shoulder he carried his supplies outside and looked skyward.
Definitely better light out here, he thought as he made his way to the side of his small abode where a cracked mirror hung, haphazardly attached to the outside wall.
Slathering some of the white cream over his face and occasionally nodding in the direction of the townsfolk who stopped to observe his daily routine, his mind went over the events of the past couple of days. The business with El Serpiente had taken its toll on them all. Some of the outlying villages were still rebuilding in the wake of his vengeful destruction and he himself was dealing with the results of his actions.
One clear fact did not escape him: He had sworn to himself to protect El Serpiente and hold to his oath to save lives and not take them. Then what had he done? He'd killed him--not because of his past crimes or any sense of justice or punishment, but because the Queen of Swords' life was in danger. What did that mean?
He knew good and well what it meant. He'd do just about anything regardless of his own principles to ensure her safety. Sighing he positioned the freshly-stropped razor against his chin and started pulling it in short strokes over his skin.
Admit it, Robert, he told himself as he dipped the blade into the basin of warm water. You're falling in love with the Queen of Swords.
It wasn't really an unexpected revelation. Lately he found himself dreaming up possible ways to let her know how he felt. Sometimes he even caught himself wondering what exactly he could do to 'sweep her off her feet' as they say.
Peering into the mirror at his reflection he mused, Perhaps I'd look more distinguished it I took up smoking. Bringing an imaginary cigar to his lips he took a few experimental puffs. He could almost see the smoke rings forming. Bringing the razor back to his face he decided against that option. Dreadful things, cigars. I'm sure she'd think it a reprehensible habit..
Maybe if he had a romantic accent instead of his bland English one. French. The ladies always seem to like the French accent. Affecting his best Parisian dialect, he propositioned his image in the mirror. "Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir?"
Right. That would probably earn a slap in the face, Robert.
He was beginning to think it was a lost cause. With a shake of his head he brought the towel to his face to wipe off the excess shaving cream when he heard a tinkle of feminine laughter behind him. He whirled around in time to catch a glimpse of a black blur disappearing around the side of the building. He followed after it quickly but when he reached the street all he saw was the sea of townspeople milling around the pueblo.
A bit of color caught his eye as he glanced down. There on the ground was a tarot card. He wasn't surprised when he found it to be the Queen of Swords. He bent to pick up the now-infamous calling card. Turning it over in his hand he was surprised to see another card attached to the back--the Wheel of Fortune.
With a wry grin, he looked off in the direction his visitor must have gone and mused, Perhaps my luck is changing.
THE END
Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir? is the French version of "Let's get it on!" <g> Or rather, "Do you want to sleep with me tonight?" :)
CHALLENGE #5 TRIO
By JoLayne
[email protected]
Cigar, misplaced accent, Wheel of Fortune tarot card
~~~~~
Marcus Grisham walked into Montoya's office with his usual swagger which made Montoya keep an extra eye on him. Something made him feel good today. We can't have that, Montoya thought. He had to rely on Grisham, but he hated it so after his minion almost let him die of the fever.
"Capitan," Montoya smiled at his guest then cast his eyes on his underling. "You have interrupted my meeting with Senor Costas here."
Grisham bowed and made his apologies to the lightest skinned Spaniard Montoya had ever seen, but the purpose of the meeting was too good to pass up. Grisham told Montoya, "I was told you wanted to see me." Then he added, "Sir."
"Yes, Grisham. But I didn't mean right away. Since when are you so fast?"
"Since you have someone in your office who people have told me, knows who the Queen of Swords is."
Costas nodded, puffed on the cigar that Montoya had lit for him just after they had sat down. "I was going to take this meeting alone, but since you're here..." Montoya waved his hand toward Grisham for him to stand guard and just listen. Both military men looked to the visitor for his proof, a reason why Montoya should believe him, and how much it would cost to obtain the information.
Costas just puffed on the cigar, rolling it in his fingers and blowing smoke rings. "Senor," Montoya said, fidgeting in his chair. "Any time you care to speak would be excellent. I know you have a problem with the English as you so mangled the language when you arrived. Would you prefer to speak in our native tongue, Spanish?"
Montoya thought the man was no better than a peasant, who might just be dressed in an ill-fitting suit to 'impress' him. The callouses on his hands were a dead giveaway that the man wasn't affluent. But, the prospect of finding out the true identity of the bane of his existence was enough for him to get into his office. Smoke one of his fine cigars. Montoya's patience was drawing to a close. He ordered Costas, "Hablar, ahora."
"Mas por favor," Costas said, nudging his empty scotch glass toward Montoya.
Montoya slowly shook his head, no. He wouldn't have anything more until he showed his proof that he knew who the Queen was. Finally, Costas drew a deck of cards out of his pocket. The Colonel wondered if he was supposed to draw with the quiet man. Costas laid the deck on the desk, face up. The top card was Wheel of Fortune. It was a tarot deck.
"What is that to prove?"
"A pasado uno."
Montoya leaned over his desk to pick up the deck and sift through the cards to find the one that he assumed would be missing. Sure enough, there wasn't the tarot card, Queen of Swords, among them. "What does that prove?"
Costas explained in Spanish that he had been a guest in a home and found the deck in the trash basin. "Isn't it amazing that the one card that is left as a souvenir for you, Colonel, is not in the deck."
"In who's casa were you a guest?"
"That is what will cost you reales."
Montoya smiled, enjoying the courage the fake Spaniard had to actually try to put one over on him. "Adiós, senor Costas." To the surprise of Grisham--and to Costas--Montoya stood and drew a pistol from under his desk and shot Costas square in the chest.
Grisham jumped back against the wall. "What in God's name are you doing?!"
Montoya blew the smoke that came out of the barrel of the gun and set it on his desk. "Get some men in here and take him away. Now."
"Why did you do that?"
"He pronounced the word, re'cuerdo, not as the word should be accented. I have no time for such nonsense. If he took the pains to lie about his heritage, why wouldn't he make up a story for extortion. Take him away!"
END
THE 'SHIPPER
By Maril
[email protected]
I wasn't able to add anything to the Round Robins, but this popped into my head so here it is.
~~~~~
Tessa held her breath as the last of the wine casks was hauled up by rope pulleys over the side of the ship. From her vantage point on the shore, she could see the activity on board as the large barrels were stowed in the hold. All this morning and yesterday, the barges carrying her wines had been towed across the choppy waters between her jetty and the cargo ship anchored a league offshore.
She turned with a satisfied smile as Señor Velasquez touched her arm. He was a dapper-looking older man, shorter than Tessa with a sprightly manner. His face was sharply defined with high cheekbones and he sported a finely trimmed goatee and moustache of white hair. "Well, Maria Theresa, if these wines sell as well as I expect, you will have a shipment of gold coming to you in a few months. I tasted the young wines and they promise well. They will live up to your father's reputation, I have no doubt."
Tessa tried to control her features, to behave with proper decorum, but her grin burst through and she exclaimed, "Do you really think so, Señor Velasquez? As good as Papa's?"
He smiled at her youthful exuberance. "Yes, at least. Maybe better."
He patted her hand paternally. "And now I must go to the ship. Thank you for your hospitality, my dear child. And bid your charming duenna farewell for me. It's too bad her duties kept her from being here today."
Tessa nearly laughed aloud. Señor Velasquez' amorous attentions to Marta for the entire two weeks of his visit, had kept Marta wary of him and generally vexed. She would rather drown than come down to see him off in case he made his preposterous proposal to her again. Marriage!
Marta had told Tessa that his first offer was to be his mistress in Madrid where he would set her up in a household of her own. Marta had reminded Señor Velasquez of his previous mistress whom she had met in Madrid.
He had said, "But that was in another country, and besides the wench is dead."
Señor Velasquez was a very old-fashioned man in his dealings with women. With Tessa, he was rigorously proper as accorded with her station. But Marta, because of her supposedly lower status, he treated with less respect. Tessa had to turn away to hide her smile. No one treated Marta like that and got away with it. Marta had made her feelings very clear to him, and Tessa had seen him leaving that particular interview with a very red face.
He held out his hand now to Tessa, and said, "Tell Marta if ever she reconsiders my very generous offer, she has only to come to Madrid. Hasta luego, Maria Theresa."
"Fair winds, Señor Velasquez. Vaya con dios." Impulsively, Tessa kissed his cheek. He flushed deeply, and then stepped quickly to the waiting boat and climbed in. Several minutes later, as the boat neared the ship, Marta joined her.
"So he is gone. Thank God! I was afraid I was going to have to call on the Queen of Swords to defend me against him." Marta laughed, playfully nudging Tessa. "Especially since you were no help at all," she grumbled.
"You seemed to be able to handle him all right. I was trying to be courteous to him as he is an old friend of Papa's and our wine agent." They watched as the ship's anchor was hauled up and the sails began to unfurl. "I almost wish I was going on that ship back to Spain, Marta."
"Well, you'd have to go by yourself. I'd rather keep an ocean and a continent between me and Señor Velasquez. Though, you would certainly have a lot more fun in Spain than here."
Tessa sighed softly, then shook herself. "But then who would run the winery during the day, and defend the weak by night." The two women laughed as they walked back down the jetty toward their wagon.
- Maril
Who comes up with theses toughies? <g>
FORTUNE'S FAVOURITES
by Maril
Misplaced accent, cigar, Wheel of Fortune tarot card
~~~~~
The peon's eyes widened and he ran into the villa to find his mistress. He encountered Marta instead. "Tell the doña that Colonel Montoya is here!" he said excitedly. Like all the peasants, he was terrified of the military governor whose displeasure could result in a flogging or death.
Marta grimaced as a knot of apprehension tightened her stomach. What now? she wondered as she went outside to find Montoya already standing on the verandah. She looked at him warily, a fact he did not miss. She saw the pleasure in his eyes at her seeming fear of him. "My mistress is not here right now, Colonel. Perhaps I can help you." Marta made no move to allow him to pass, barring his entry to the villa.
"This is just a social visit, Marta. Tell the señorita there will be a fiesta on Saturday in honour of my birthday. No gifts are necessary." He was about to leave when he suddenly turned and said, "You are a teller of fortunes, Marta. I would like you to tell mine. As a birthday gift. Perhaps the Wheel of Fortune card will turn up for me, and I will, at last, kill the Queen of Swords."
"I do not tell fortunes, Colonel. It is forbidden by the Church, as you know." She watched as he casually pulled out a cigar and lit it, savouring the sharp bite of the tobacco as he inhaled deeply, blowing the smoke insolently in her direction.
"I obviously misplaced the accent on my request, Marta. You will tell my fortune. Right now!"
Marta's mind was in turmoil. Was this a trap to find out where the Queen's Tarot cards were coming from? With a slight smile, she said, "Well, if you insist. Give me your hand. I will read your palm for you." She tried to keep her face composed at the angry light that leapt into Montoya's eyes. She had thwarted him and he knew it. "Hmm," she mused over his palm, "you have a very jagged lifeline. Numerous paths are open to you, but the one you follow is full of opposition and danger." She looked into his pale eyes and smiled. "However, it is a long lifeline, with many opportunities for change and improvement." Letting his hand drop, she moved back, waiting for him to leave.
A look of wry amusement lit his face, while a dangerous glint sparkled in his grey eyes. "You are a very clever woman, Marta. Perhaps your cleverness will get you in trouble someday." He swiftly picked up her hand and turned it palm upwards. "Now, let me tell your fortune. You are treading a dangerous path and your lifeline may become quite short." He dropped her hand and turned away curtly, striding toward his horse. Snatching the reins from the frightened peon, he mounted.
The warning in his eyes chilled her as Marta watched him wheel his horse and urge it into a canter toward the pueblo. He is getting too close, she thought in alarm. Perhaps I will consult the cards and see what La Fortuna has in store for us.
END
Whew! That was a stretch!
-Maril