Lombardus: The Trident Clown

Chapter 10 ☬

A bad company

Crashed into worse company
Now, who's the Baddie?

DROPPING MY MAD ACT and switching to the original me mode, I looked daunted at the sight of the man dressed in red pinafore with a yellow shirt underneath, "Blimey O'Riley!" I said. "Is that you, Dolan??"

"Yes, boy. Me!" Dolan jabbed his index into his sternum. "You gudgeoned me!" He was sure to put a great deal of Irish emphasis on the me.

I would have laughed out loud if I weren't in a lack-laughter situation. Who uses the word 'gudgeon' these days? Dolan was really behind the times.

In case you've forgotten, Dolan was the ticket attendant we evaded at the gate. We had told him we got lost from our excursion group; a sure-fire lie which made him direct his attention from us into his appointment book. We also tricked him into looking somewhere else; which he also did — on his own will. When he turned back to face the lost kids, it was as if we had found our way home.

Hermes at it again!

"It was him," I blurted, pointing at Rupert as if about to add, It wasn't us but him. He was the mastermind behind the lies. I must admit my inner mind sounded even more flippant than me.

"No." Rupert disagreed, glaring at me, We are together in this.

"I've called the truant officer already. Whether it is you or him, your parents will decide who pays the fine. And a trip to the woodshed wouldn't hurt delinquents, would it?" That said, Dolan lunged forward with both hands outstretched.

"Let them be," A female voice from our backs commanded, stopping Dolan mid-step. He froze, sized up his commander, and then lowered his head.

I noticed the Irishman somehow wished he were smaller. Why was he petrified of her?

The girl stood, hands akimbo, legs splayed, lips pursed, face, a patchwork of gruesome frown lines and a bushy ponytail that a fjord horse might get envious of.

"Lucy!" Luke squealed like a dying pig (the balloon); an ocean of tears streaking down his cheeks; arms outstretched; running to hug his dear sister.

☬☬☬

NOT ALL REUNIONS ARE REUNITING.

Luke's body pushed against that of Lucy, hugging her tightly. She had no option but to mellow. Her forehead remained a four-lane racecourse of deep frowns.

With Luke's head buried into her shoulder, he must've thought the embrace was warm, receptive and affectionate; that all was fixed between them until Lucy nudged him away and WHACK! on his head.

The goddess of vengeance, Nemesis, is sofa king proud of her.

The hit seemed to act like a remote's button — resetting his brain. It must have made him figure that the hug was only a Pavlovian response to his instant tears; that the embrace was only meant to comfort him. Temporarily.

"Ouch, that hurts." Luke complained, rubbing the back of his head. It must feel like a furnace was burning full blast inside there.

Lucy's voice was steely and ice-cold when she spoke. If only voices could freeze, (ignore that it froze Dolan a while ago,) Luke might have turned into an ice cube. Oops, with auburn hair on it.

"Don't. Ever. Leave. Me. Again!" Lucy snarled slowly.

I thought it didn't sound like a snarl since snarls were supposed to be sharp, threatening and scary. Hers night not be sharp, but it was threatening and scary. Two out of three is a pass.