Friday, October 06, 2006

Chapter 4 - The Guy

It might have been the following afternoon when at last they woke up, but it wasn’t. About ten minutes after dropping into an exhausted sleep, they were roughly shaken awake by some burly storks with menacing dark glasses.

“Who are you?” demanded Dexter.

No-one spoke and they were stork-handled to a large clearing in the woods. First they saw Stork Seven-Three-Seven, lying in the middle of the clearing as dead as before. Then they saw The Guy. They had no difficulty recognizing him. The Guy always wore a cape, dark glasses and black leather gloves. Everyone was afraid of him. In fact, the Daily Landscape newspaper once launched a survey to find out how many people were not afraid of him. They’re still waiting.

The Guy was a professional all-rounder who sold his talents to the highest bidder. Usually his skills were required for unlawful business and whenever the business on hand was lawful, The Guy made sure to take it into the unlawful realm at the earliest possible occasion. It was just plain bad luck for Dexter and Sinister that this was the earliest possible occasion.

The Guy was thoughtfully gazing down at them as they were lying in crumpled heaps on the ground. In his hand he held a horse whip which he menacingly tapped against his leg. He appeared to be pondering something, probably the most drawn out way of bringing about their demise, thought Dexter. He tried his best to return The Guy’s gaze with an icy stare but barely managed to keep his bladder in control. Sinister was nonchalantly chewing on a blade of grass. As long as they weren’t in the air, he was sure nothing bad could happen, his attitude seemed to say.

The Guy spoke. Quite reasonably, thought Dexter.

“You were flying on Stork-Seven-Three-Seven?”

“No,” replied Dexter immediately and truthfully.

“NOT!” thundered The Guy. “You were seen leaving the runway with Stork-Seven-Three-Seven and you were found with the body of Stork-Seven-Three-Seven, and yet, and yet, you deny flying on Stork-Seven-Three-Seven?”

“Yes,” replied Dexter. “We were flying with Stork-Seven-Three-Seven but under him, not on him.”

“In the baggage compartment?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Stowaways!”

“No! No! Sub-Economy Class!”

“There is no such class. You lie!”

“No, really, we did. We have tickets…er…had tickets…the air-hostess took them.”

“I don’t see an air-hostess. You lie!”

“She left! She left with the rage.”

“You are lying. You hi-jacked Stork-Seven-Three-Seven and diverted his path to the woods far from his flight plan. He bravely put up resistance and you killed him, not realising that you would fall if he were dead! Oh yes, we know all about you Dexter and Sinister. You just about don’t have the intelligence to realise that a dead stork can’t fly.”

“No. You’re wrong!” muttered Dexter but strangely enough he felt as if that must have been exactly how it happened. Maybe they did hijack the flight. Maybe they killed the stork. Yes, they wouldn’t realise that a dead stork can’t fly. Dexter giggled. Yes, that’s exactly how it had happened. Suddenly he felt much relieved at having arrived at the truth.

The Guy had Dexter under his control. One of his infamous qualities was the ability to make a subject believe whatever was told to him.

Only Sinister wasn’t taken in. The Guy had made a mistake. Thinking that Sinister was too stupid to be of any consequence he had focused all his convincing powers onto Dexter. Sinister calmly continued chewing on his blade of grass.

“You will be taken to a place of keeping where you will remain until such time as the court would hear your evidence,” droned The Guy. He had done yet another fine job, he felt. These fools could never finish their journey in time. Everything had worked out just fine. They would never even see the inside of a court room.

“Oh thank you,” breathed Dexter and promptly passed out.

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