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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.
***
