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{"We hear only what we understand."
- Goethe.}
{Sam Clemens, ghost here. Roland, Marlene Dietrich, and I have escaped the mysterious DayStar,
only to be threatened by the Gestapo's Major Strasser ...
and a revenant, to boot. Roland's journal takes it from here.} :
Besides a startled Lauren Bacall, Humphrey Bogart gestured with a .45 automatic. "The war's over, Fritz."
Strasser flicked dead eyes to the ghost. "To some the war is never over. Besides, I, too, have a gun."
Humphrey smiled thinly. "Mine's bigger than yours."
"Mine, too," grunted Mark Twain, his own .45 automatic drawn and aimed at Strasser.
"While mine is longer," smiled Marlene, the saber that had been in my left hand now in her right.
Never taking her eyes off Strasser, she husked to me, "The saber is of my essence. It comes to me when I will it to do so."
The major's eyes narrowed as he looked from Mark to Marlene. "Ghosts do not move this fast. Something is wrong."
"Yeah, Fritz," mocked Lauren. "You are. Every dogma has its day. Nazisim had its hour, and it's long over."
Major Strasser looked at her with contempt. "The Reich will never die."
Marlene spoke low. "But you will, Strasser, if you do not drop that luger."
He glared at her. "You stole my pre-Castro Havanas."
I felt my mouth drop. "Cigars? Cigars! You're upset about stupid cigars?"
He pouted. "They were pre-Castro. Very special."
"Special?," Mark snapped. "You're a revenant, Strasser. You've beef jerky for a tongue. You could smoke rope for all the taste you'd notice."
Strasser's eyes were glittering beads of arrogance. "They were special."
Marlene snorted, "The way you bragged of them was obscene. It was as if you were begging me to steal them. So I did ... for a peace-offering to Papa."
He sneered, "And did it work?"
She dropped her eyes. "Quite the opposite."
Strasser's face tightened like a ballon about to pop. "And here in Meilori's, even ghosts can die."
"For cigars?," I exploded.
"For honor!," he shouted.
And things went very crazy, very fast.
***
- Goethe.}
{Sam Clemens, ghost here. Roland, Marlene Dietrich, and I have escaped the mysterious DayStar,
only to be threatened by the Gestapo's Major Strasser ...
and a revenant, to boot. Roland's journal takes it from here.} :
Besides a startled Lauren Bacall, Humphrey Bogart gestured with a .45 automatic. "The war's over, Fritz."
Strasser flicked dead eyes to the ghost. "To some the war is never over. Besides, I, too, have a gun."
Humphrey smiled thinly. "Mine's bigger than yours."
"Mine, too," grunted Mark Twain, his own .45 automatic drawn and aimed at Strasser.
"While mine is longer," smiled Marlene, the saber that had been in my left hand now in her right.
Never taking her eyes off Strasser, she husked to me, "The saber is of my essence. It comes to me when I will it to do so."
The major's eyes narrowed as he looked from Mark to Marlene. "Ghosts do not move this fast. Something is wrong."
"Yeah, Fritz," mocked Lauren. "You are. Every dogma has its day. Nazisim had its hour, and it's long over."
Major Strasser looked at her with contempt. "The Reich will never die."
Marlene spoke low. "But you will, Strasser, if you do not drop that luger."
He glared at her. "You stole my pre-Castro Havanas."
I felt my mouth drop. "Cigars? Cigars! You're upset about stupid cigars?"
He pouted. "They were pre-Castro. Very special."
"Special?," Mark snapped. "You're a revenant, Strasser. You've beef jerky for a tongue. You could smoke rope for all the taste you'd notice."
Strasser's eyes were glittering beads of arrogance. "They were special."
Marlene snorted, "The way you bragged of them was obscene. It was as if you were begging me to steal them. So I did ... for a peace-offering to Papa."
He sneered, "And did it work?"
She dropped her eyes. "Quite the opposite."
Strasser's face tightened like a ballon about to pop. "And here in Meilori's, even ghosts can die."
"For cigars?," I exploded.
"For honor!," he shouted.
And things went very crazy, very fast.
***
Another awesome writing expounding on the personal failings of historical figures. Roland, I'm totally enjoying your snarkish style, and the way you can relate all the worst creatures in history together. Just amazing how they all come together with such vivid complementary-evil personalities.
ReplyDeleteBut my friend; I need some true action. Not words bandied about and evil banished with the trick of a well phrased moral.
True action. Please put all these big guns to use.
I've enjoyed all the Word Paint entries - my wasn't yours awesome, to say the least, b/c I love being inside Melorie's - but after several hours on the blogs, yeah, I need some killer action.
I'm taking my own advice, of course. I'm entering jcmartin's FIGHT,FIGHT,FIGHT blogfest. Now, I'm hoping you join also, you have some excellent action scenes, and I know you can show us all how a good fight is written.
Just saying . .
Thanks for your encouraging remarks on my entry today (yesterday?). Leaving YOU hanging was the highlight of the blogfest.
See, I'm learning from the master.
.........dhole
I love the Marlene 'husked.' You'd have to know Marlene to appreciate this fully. Love your unique style..:)
ReplyDeleteDonna : Action is to come tomorrow. Things get wild. I have entered J.C. Martin's FIGHT BLOGFEST. My entry was inspired by a photo of the Hindenburg sailing in front of the statue Christ the Redeemer in Rio, the Nazi symbol right in front of the stone face.
ReplyDeleteDenise : Yes, Marlene had, and her ghost still has, a distinctive voice. Thanks for dropping by.
"A cigar? A cigar!" Haha. Roland, your imagination must be quite a place to live. Thank you for sharing. I love getting to dwell there with you. Even if only for a while.
ReplyDeleteI'm buttoning up the laptop and loading the car for Florida. Wish me clear sailing and Godspeed. I'll have a virgin margarita for you since Meilori's won't bother assuage your parched lips. :)
~that rebel, Olivia
Were the cigars poisoned? Did Marlene see what happened to Papa and, he, seeing a great opportunity, went to your apartment and "died" hoping to implicate you in his "murder?" As a ghost, he may have been able to taste the poison....and thought that Marlene had done it....but who would have? Hmmmm....
ReplyDeleteMy director cheats-she reads the end of the book first. I try to figure it out....I'm puzzled....you're good!
Can a ghost get lung cancer in Meilori's? What about all the 2nd hand smoke? Is there a doctor in the House?
ReplyDeleteInquiring mind want to know. Good stuff!
Something about your writing always makes me feel like I'm in a dream. That's a good thing, by the way. Your stories are transportive (if that's a word, my spell check certainly doesn't think so).
ReplyDeleteI love the 'glittering beads of arrogance' and that the sabre was of Marlene's essence.
Excellent, as always.
Olivia : Have a good trip. I'm having server problems so my posts might be problematic.
ReplyDeleteWords Crafter : Reading the end first fizzles the fun. Nothing is as it seems at Meilori's.
Walter : Anything supernatural can die at Meilori's. Usually not by lung cancer ... too slow. Death at Meilori's is a sudden affair. I'm glad you're enjoying the ride.
Erin : Thanks for the compliment. Hang around things are going to get wild in the next few chapters. That is if my servers will let me.
LOL- I love Marlenes gun...
ReplyDeleteLOVE your story!!!! That bit of how-big-is-your-gun banter is inspired!
ReplyDelete; P
And I totally agree with Erin. When I read your stories, the world kind of vanishes around me.
I have an award for you on my blog, too....
And good choice of song to accompany the piece!
ReplyDeleteSummer : Yes, Marlene's "gun" never runs out of ammunition -- just like her wit.
ReplyDeleteTessa : I'm glad the world dims when you read my stories. That means a lot. And thanks to you, too, Erin.
Diane : Thanks for liking the song choice. I try to make them appropriate and not just in one genre to eventually hit something you will like.
Soooo, being stupid follows fome folks into death. ;-D Cigars?!?! Must be a guy thing. *snort*
ReplyDelete