The Diamond Dog Chronicles
Mariclaire: Touched By The Hand Of Baz
Chapter 4 Part 3
~ By Magenta ~
::: FLASH! :::
Another bright light engulfed Mariclaire, and this time, when it disappeared, she found herself in the rafters of a very cluttered art studio. However, as she looked around she noticed a bed, kitchen and lounge type area; this was obviously someone’s home.
‘How do I get down from here?’ Mariclaire thought, becoming dizzy from the height.
“Eeek!” she yelped, realizing her situation, “I’m so small...Agh, and I have wings!”
‘If I just jump off of here, I’m sure my instinct will kick in,’ she thought, ‘...I guess now’s as good a time as any.’
“Okay,” she said stepping forward, “bombs awaaaay!” she cried free falling, with her eyes closed, praying that she would be okay.
:::THWACK!:::
Mariclaire’s instinct did not kick in; instead she collided into the side of a burly man standing in the centre of the room.
“Oooww!” she said, coming to her feet on the man’s shoulder, looking to where she had just hit him fairly hard in the side of the head.
‘Well, it could have been worse,’ she thought, ‘I could have landed on the hard wooden floor.’
Just as she was getting her bearings back, standing on the shoulder she noticed a swaying motion, and instead of leaping to safety she clung to the man’s vest for dear life. This turned out to be one of her poorer ideas, as the man went crashing head first through the floorboards of the studio and into the garret below.
“Oh come on! Give me a break!” she yelled still clinging to the dangling man.
Of course that didn’t do any good as no one could see nor hear her. Evidentially they could only hear her if thoughts were specifically directed to a subconscious.
Just at that moment a small dwarf dressed as a nun came barrelling through the garret doors.
‘Where the hell did you send me Baz!!’ she thought, bemused by her surroundings.
The small man was speaking to an Englishman, and one who fitted Christian’s profile!
‘That must be him!’ she thought excitedly, glad to get her ‘break’, ‘oh, and what a fine thing he is...too bad he’s ‘destined’ for another,’ she thought with a sigh.
‘...now what do I do?’ Mariclaire thought.
She jumped off the unconscious man, her wings fluttering a little, not yet fully operative, but enough to land her safely on the nearby bed. Listening to the conversation, it seemed that the dwarf, Toulouse, was working on a play, and the best part- it was for...The Moulin Rouge.
‘Christian must be friends with these people’ she thought, ‘then at least he’ll have to go to the club sooner or later.’
***
Christian was dragged upstairs, while Mariclaire took the shorter route and used her newly acquired skill to fly, through the hole in the roof. The man they had identified as Rico, The Unconscious Argentinean, was removed and temporarily placed on Toulouse’s bed.
Mariclaire sat and watched their rehearsals, plotting her next move. Coincidentally it seemed fate had brought her this far...thus she was a little concerned about how to create fate.
‘I need some way to keep him involved with this play,’ she thought, and then became momentarily distracted, as there seemed to be artistic differences over which lyrics were to be used.
Breaking through the rabble, Christian’s voice rung throughout the studio with inspired words. The bohos were in awe...all but one, Audrey the writer.
Mariclaire saw her moment of opportunity, and darted over to the person who she deemed to have the most control over the unkempt mob.
“Toulouse, Christian should write this show with Audrey. He’s obviously a very talented writer...the other’s will love your idea,” she voiced sitting on his shoulder like a nymph, legs crossed.
Mariclaire, waited, unsure if her persuasion had worked, but was jolted when Toulouse exclaimed, “Incandiferous! Audrey, you two should write the show together.”
“Yes!” she exclaimed, fists clenched.
But Audrey was not amused, he stormed out refusing to be upstaged...Mariclaire had not anticipated this.
The air was filled with buzzing ideas. Mariclaire could hear their thoughts screaming out with excitement, but there was one in particular that interested her. It seemed Toulouse was hatching a plan involving her other charge Satine, Mariclaire just needed to kick start it into action.
‘Toulouse, Audrey may be gone but Christian could write the show himself. Tell them your idea; let Christian audition for Satine tonight. This could be your chance to create the best bohemian show!’ she voiced to his subconscious, stroking his ego with encouragement.
“Cwistian, you could write the show!” Toulouse began, “We can dwess you in Rico’s good suit pwetend you’re a famous English writer. When Satine hears your modern poetry, she will insist to Zidler that you write ‘Spectacular, Spectacular!’ ” he exclaimed.
Things seemed to snowball, as all the bohos agreed that Christian could write the show himself.
However, this idea seemed to frighten Christian. Momentarily Mariclaire thought back to ‘The Order of the Baz’... ‘He may need encouragement, and frequent confidence boosts’ she recalled. Mariclaire knew he believed in the bohemian ideals, they just had to make him see it.
Mariclaire fluttered frantically from Toulouse, The Doctor, Satie and back, hoping they would voice whatever she suggested and inturn, Christian would realize his potential.
Finally she came to Christian and voiced, “Above all things you believe in love. It’s like oxygen...uuh; it’s a many splendid thing. Love lifts us up to where we belong. All you need is love Christian!”
Her efforts succeeded. Worn out, she slumped over Christian’s shoulder and lay there for a moment, relieved that he would write the play. Now she just had to get him to the Moulin Rouge...and tonight!
***
It seemed the bohos were fond of absinthe, and they chose to introduce Christian to its affects that evening.
Mariclaire began panicking, as she was known to do, ‘What if they get so trashed that they forget about the Moulin Rouge and Satine,’ she worried.
It seemed they needed a little help, and if she recalled correctly, she was able to make herself visible when it was ‘completely necessary’, and if succeeding in her task and getting back home ASAP wasn’t completely necessary, she didn’t know what was. Hatching a deviant plan, she watched as they continued to drink obscene amounts.
‘It’s not like they would even know I was real, I’d just be a hallucination to them,’ she thought.
The bohos and Christian were so intoxicated, that elephants could have paraded through the studio and they wouldn’t have even noticed.
“That’s it, I’m doing it,” she said out loud, more so to encourage herself than anything else.
“Now how does this work,” she said, looking about herself, “is there a switch or something?”
When nothing happened she thought back to her science classes, maybe that would help her. Nope. Maybe something she learned in church would give her a hint, ...no again...it was times like this she wished she had paid more attention.
‘When all else fails, turn to TV,’ she thought.
At first nothing happened, however, she seemed to recall an episode of Charmed from some time ago. When Prue wanted to astral project and make herself seen somewhere else, all she had to do was concentrate and imagine her human form somewhere else.
Mariclaire sighed, “And that is why I love TV” she voiced.
The bohos were raucous with laughter. Mariclaire stood on the windowsill, blocking out their noise, focusing on becoming visible. Suddenly she sprung into the air in front of Christian’s face. He was taken aback at her appearance, and smiling he gazed at her form.
“I’m the Green Fairy!” Mariclaire sprouted, identifying herself to her charge.
She quickly entranced them men with her swaying motions, and played with them briefly, enjoying the interaction herself, but attempting to gain their attention and compliance.
Once she had them sufficiently under her spell, she led them all to the Moulin Rouge, where her job was only just about to begin.
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