Tales Between the Lines

V.8 Happy ever after

The noise of a breaking nail tears Ashley out of her stupor. Ignoring her slimy skirt and her still stupefied sister, she hurries over to Ed and reaches for his maltreated hand.
Edward, misreading her purely altruistic intentions, steps back and glowers at her.

"This is my card to break, as a matter of class struggle. Keep your manicured fingers off."

"But, Officer, it's you who need a manicure, and fast. Have you seen the severe damage done to your nails? This calls for professional attention, immediately. May I give you my card!"

With two perfectly styled, peach coloured fingernails adorned with tiny moons and stars, she hands Ed a frilly, pink business card, distributing a whiff of rose and strawberry scent. The reluctant officer fingers the card, aware this one wouldn't withstand his wrath but not sure how to handle the rapidly escalating situation.

In a lucky quirk of fate, the jeweller from across the street chooses this moment to interrupt the scene.

"Officer, what are you up to, here? Can't you see we're in the middle of an emergency?"

Edward's glance follows the jeweller's outstretched finger, registering its distinctly manicured state. Then, all thoughts of broken fingernails, manicure, and offending aliens dissolve as Edward's basic cop training kicks in.

The jeweller's shop is surrounded by a host of shrieking teenagers, housewives and retirees, all of them jostling for a place in the front row, taking window shopping at face value.

Ed isn't a man to let a Destiny-sent diversion slip by unused. He presses the two cards into Ron's reluctant hands and follows the jeweller to a hopefully mundane case of pillage.

Ashley flutters her eyelashes at the tax official. Marth Daul doesn't flutter.

No, Marth Daul does not flutter. He flutters for no one.

While the crowd pillaging the jeweler's shop succumbs, one by one, to intimate contact with Ed's standard issue police truncheon,* Marth Daul approaches Ron in slow, measured steps.

He stops well within the tax official's personal space and holds out a hand. "The card."
Tax authorities are, in general, unyielding. Yet faced with a triple-eyed alien glower, they tend to become more collaborative. Ron offers the titanium card for Marth to take.

The alien shakes his head. "No, the other one."

Ron needs a moment to realize that Marth is talking about Ashley's card, the pink one. His hand trembles as he holds it out for Marth to grasp.

Marth takes it with both hands and lifts it to his eyes,** sniffing and ogling it. Then he looks at Ashley. "Are you Ashley Asper?"

Ashley pales and takes a step back. "Yes..."

"Are you the owner of Nail Spa Inc.?"

"Er... yes."

"Do you take new appointments?"

A smile sneaks into Ashley's face and takes a seat there. "Sure."

"What about right now?"

"Absolutely! We're right down the street. If you care to follow me?" She extends an arm past the heap of unconscious bodies next to the jeweler's shop.

Marth takes said arm in his, and the two amble down the alley while the sun conveniently decides to use that moment for setting in the distance, outlining the pair as a black double-silhouette of soulmates in bliss.

Amber, in the meantime, has approached Ed, who is polishing his truncheon with a handkerchief.
"You're a strong man, officer." She brushes a strand of hair from her face.

Ed stands straight and pulls in his belly. "You think so, lady?"

She nods. "Most definitely."

Ed scans the streets for Millie. She is nowhere in sight.

"Would you care for a drink?" he asks.

"Oh... officer. Aren't you on duty?"

Ed places his truncheon*** in its holster. "Not anymore."

"Great." She offers him his arm.

Ed takes it, and the two of them**** walk off, following Marth and Ashley into the sunset.

This leaves Ron on the scene, as well as a still dysfunctional Beauty.

Ron raises an eyebrow at Beauty. Beauty reboots.

The sun sets, and a gentle fog draws up the alley. Ron closes the front buttons of his raincoat and puts on his hat.*****

Beauty stirs and makes a small hum.******

Out of nowhere, an ancient propeller plane passes over the city.*******

Ron smiles at Beauty. Beauty hums.

The two walk down the alley.

"Beauty," Ron says, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

They are swallowed by the mist.

————
* Well, almost standard issue. Ed has made some minor modifications, such as adding a core of lead and a couple of spikes to add convictive strength to the tool's clout.

** Yes, he's short-sighted.

*** Ed calls his truncheon Trent, by the way.

**** And Trent.

***** Yes, he has a hat with him. We haven't mentioned it yet to spare Ron's personal feelings as, nowadays, men in hats look slightly silly. Yet now, in the fog and the gentle lights from the street lamps, Ron looks quite dashing under it.

****** Much of Beauty's core memory has been erased by recent events, so hums—and a gentle, self-effacing nature—is all it has left.

******* No, we don't know who's in it and what it does there.

~ ~ ~

And so, another story reaches closure. We are aware the well-disposed reader might wonder about some loose ends. Well, we're in a generous mood today and thus offer some tiny glimpses into the lives beyond sunset of our loveable protagonists.

Amber and Edward (and Trent) hit it off immediately. The result is a big, happy family. Amber gets to name all her sons Harry in compensation for her unfulfilled first love. Apparently, it's the only name she manages to stammer after the strains of giving birth.
For pragmatic reasons and to simplify distinguishing all the Harrys, Edward soon numbers them in the police emergency code.

The first born is called 757 ("siren") for obvious reasons. The second one, a redhead, becomes 205 ("fire engine"). The third-born is named 64 ("riot" - after the tantrum he throws every time his diapers are wet), the fourth 316 ("flooding" - after a certain nightly incident). Number five and six are twins and become known as 233 ("bank robbery") and 890 ("retreat to office") for reasons Ed keeps secret.

The seventh child is a girl and Ed insists to call her Millie, despite his faithful wife whispering "Harry" with a dreamy smile when the nurse asks for the baby's name.

Ashley and Marth soon enjoy the luxury of intergalactic success as Nail Spa Inc. becomes the new fashionable brand on Capella. This results in a lot of Capellian traffic to Earth, and subsequently, into a lot of parking offences outside Ashley's studio.
Luckily for Edward, he gets transferred to another district and leaves it to Millie to confront the alien wrong-parkers.

As for Ron and Beauty, this is another long story to tell. Suffice to mention they find their personal heaven, too. Imagine a tax collector with a powerful, adaptive, and literally indestructible spaceship... Well, Beauty eventually digs up enough of her personality in different corners of her storage to become a veritable partner to her Rick—sorry, Ron—and they travel the Galaxy happily ever after.

So, who is left? Ah, yes, the bird and its descendants. Most of them just live their life in birdly bliss, chirping, searching for food, mating, laying eggs, hatching, and chirping some more. But one little bird, 27 birdy generations down the line, leaves his eggshell ready to follow the fateful call of something greater, something huge.