Lombardus: The Trident Clown

Chapter 15 ☬

Spitfire lady

Don't spit your 'fire' on us
I have a head cold

WE HAD NO MONEY!

When the unfriendly counter-lady told us that our money was ninety-nine Mintgots, (including the fee for being rambunctious teenagers), the ice pack on Rupert's head melted.

"What? Sorry? I think my ears are hallucinating again. They act up whenever they hear alien words like 'rambunctious.'" Rupert was the first to protest but we all had the same hallucinations in our ears.

"You heard me right, snaggletooth." The counter-lady answered, cleaning the bloody mess of Rupert's wound with a damp rag. "Ninety-nine Mintgots. Gold."

"But it was just an ice pack." Rupert said, sounding grown-up and childish at the same time. "You didn't even disinfect the wound. Ma'am."

"Impertinence!" The lady screeched, flaring her upside-down, funnel-shaped nose. "Are you trying to — ?" Her eyes narrowed into slits no wider than the breadth of Mia's puppet strings.

"N-No — " We all tried to explain but her high-pitched, banshee-like voice cut us short.

"You mean I'm a quack!? Just gimme a moment to call my sheriff boyfriend, okay? When you get behind the bars, you'll explain what you mean." 

Her manicured nails dug into the button of her phone as she dialed a number. It beeped, giving a double-tone busy signal. Furious, by another failure (yet again), the quack lady spiralled into a spree of profanities causing us to run away or risk getting chronic ear hallucinations.

☬☬☬

"I've never seen someone so hysterical," Lucy said when we were out of ear defect range.

"Hmmph," Rupert rolled his eyes as if to say, Someone so hysterical as you.

"Achoo!" I sneezed. "Sorry guys, I think I'm developing a head cold thanks to that frizzy-haired woman earlier."

"I reckon we should be going home then," Lucy said, ignoring Rupert's eye-roll.

"And tell them what?" Luke asked sharply, "Oh I know. And tell dad to forgive us because we just ditched school. How stupider does that sound?"

"But you can see we're the most wanted school kids in town at the moment," Lucy said. "We've got Bigelow on our tail. Corcoran died because of us. Those punks might be out there, searching for us. Where do you suggest we go then?"

"My grandparent's place," Rupert opted, reading the shocked looks on our faces before adding, "They're demented so you don't have to worry about anything. They'd never find out we played hooky."

"But — " Lucy tried to argue without a point.

" — Rupert," I interjected. "Are your grandparents the farmers that grow all sorts of plants in their big garden-farm?"

Rupert flushed deep red. As it seemed, he wasn't comfortable with the description; ergo, found it offending.

I noticed the discomfort and said, "Darn, I'm such a bigmouth."

"Glad you know." Rupert agreed.

"Sorry, I never meant that. On the contrary, I was just wondering if they might have a cure for my head cold in the farm. I think I'm coming down with the flu." I sneezed again as if to prove my point.

The discomfort seemed to ease a bit with Rupert. "Let's get going then. We'll just stay in the farm and enjoy the breeze till closing time."

Suddenly, the face of the Clown appeared in my mind's eye again. This time, he wasn't sneering. He was angry. He looked exactly like a predator that recently lost a good meal to an apex.

I knew why. I left the outlaw's battle unscathed.

The entire planet suddenly seemed to tilt. Then with a violent spin, the hard paved floor loomed into my peripheral vision and collided against my temple.

☬☬☬

I FOUND MYSELF BEING SHOULDERED on the back of the Clown like a silly sack of sugar snap pea. 

We were walking on water. The throbbing, swelling pain in my head disabled me from thinking straight. I felt weak and beaten. 

Walking on water? I rewinded my thoughts.

I opened my eyes to see right. I was right, alright. We were walking on water. And not just any body of water. It was in the middle of the sea.

Up ahead, a whirlpool swirled and roiled, roaring like a pride of alarmed lionesses. Tall waves crescented, ebbing back and forth as the tides increased. The vortex of the whirlpool widened more, enough to swallow a full-grown blue whale with as much a sound as a tiny plop.

But instead of being pulled by the powerful current, the Clown plodded toward it — with me lying facedown on his shoulder — with ease. 

My nose was buried deep in the Clown's costume. He smelled of salve, mildew and strongly of algae, as though he had been a rock sitting underwater for ages, thus furiously mossed by the sea.

When at the edge of the hole, I was quite expecting us to be sucked in. Again, we weren't. 

Raising his trident, the Clown plunged with me into the bottomless hole. My vision went overdrive. We spun like we were on a crazy carousel ride.

The difference? The sound of water rushing into my ears instead of that of air. 

I'm drowning. I'm dying.

Don't Forget to VOTE, Reeders☬

Q: Have you ever felt like drowning? Tell me about it