Prince Glorb-O’s Saucer in High Orbit
Corporal Springer studied the 3-D images in front of her. “Commander Pinky, I think we might have a problem.”
Commander Pinky walked to Springer’s monitoring station in the Order of the Golden Labrador Command Center. “What’s up, Corporal?”
“Wyatt and some of the family are in Paris at Grand Ennui again.”
“They’re probably going dancing. So, what’s the problem?” growled Commander Pinky.
“This is the problem, ma’am,” growled Springer. She pointed a claw at an individual by the bar. “Roland has just entered the club.”
“Roland? Why does that name sound familiar, Corporal?” growled Commander Pinky.
Corporal Springer touched the screen, and a file opened with a picture. “Roland. He’s the one that Claire dated five years ago. One night he drank too much. When he wanted to have sex, Claire told him no. He slapped her around, punched and kicked her, and gave her a black eye, along with some nasty body bruises. Claire wasn’t able to appear in public for several weeks because of it. I’m afraid of what Wyatt might do if he sees him.”
Commander Pinky snarled loudly at Roland’s picture. “Corporal, considering what Roland did to Belle Claire,” growled Commander Pinky. “I’m going to allow Wyatt a lot of latitude in dealing with him.”
“Uh oh, Wyatt’s spotted him and he’s moving towards Roland at the bar,” reported Corporal Springer.
“Put everyone on alert for deployment, just in case,” ordered Commander Pinky.
A few Minutes Earlier
A very muscular Heavy-Weight Free-Fighting Champion Sonny Bongo stood at the bar with his manager, Pierre, studying Wyatt on the dance floor. Sonny contemptuously flexed his biceps and turned to his manager. “He don’t look so tough!” he muttered. “I could easily take him.”
“No, you couldn’t!” said Pierre decisively. “Get that out of your mind now!”
“Yes, I could!” shot back Sonny. He pointed towards the dance floor. “Look at the sissy. He’s dancing with another guy.”
“First off,” stated Pierre, “that sissy he is dancing with is a former American Army Airborne Ranger with combat experience. Second, I checked with Francois, who was here for the fight. Le surfer destroyed Teddy Bear’s brother, who had a knife, in less than three seconds. Francois said he had never seen anything like it. It was like Le Surfer went into a dream and then in a blur it was done.”
Sonny cracked his knuckles. “He had tiger soldiers backing him up is what I heard.”
Pierre hit him lightly on the ear. “Idiot!” reproached Pierre. “Francois said the tiger soldiers didn’t appear until after it was all over. And even then, it was to protect his attackers from him. He was about to kill the brother.”
Pierre shook his head. “Believe me, Sonny,” warned Pierre, “there’s something weird about this guy. You don’t want to go near him. I think if his women and the soldiers hadn’t stopped him, he would have killed them all.”
“Yeah, but I still bet I could take him.” Sonny smirked.
“Ok, ok,” relented Pierre as he set his drink on the bar. “Today you are Sonny Bongo, the World Free-Fighting Champion. But consider what the headlines will read tomorrow if he puts you down like a dog in the club tonight. No one will take you seriously anymore. The world will laugh at you, and I won’t be able to get you another real opponent to fight!”
The music ended and Sonny watched Jeremy and Wyatt walk back to a table where the rest of their party ate, sipped their drinks and laughed…except for an unhappy Claire.
“Look,” said Sonny excitedly, pushing his manager, “Claire L'otarie is pointing Le Surfer in our direction. She must recognize me!
“Now he’s walking towards us,” said Sonny almost unable to contain himself. “This is it! Get ready Pierre for a massacre!”
Intent and determined, Wyatt strode to the man with dark slicked-back hair who wore a pencil-thin mustache standing next to Sonny at the bar and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Are you Roland L'écume?” he asked in French.
The man turned around. “Oui. Who wants to know?” he asked.
Wyatt leaned towards Roland and carefully examined him up, down, and sideways.
“What are you looking for?” inquired Roland indignantly.
“I’m checking to see if you are wearing a parachute.” replied Wyatt.
“A parachute? Why?” asked a confused Roland. “Why would I wear a parachute?”
“Because,” growled Wyatt, “I hear you like to hit women!”
Gripping Roland’s arms tightly, Wyatt’s wings suddenly became visible. “Enjoy the ride, asshole!”
>Blue Light<
“Oh, this is good,” growled Commander Pinky. “I wasn’t expecting this. Everyone gather around. You’ll enjoy this.”
Corporal Springer touched the controls, and the view went from the smaller image to a much larger 3-D hologram in the middle of the room so that all the soldiers were able to watch.
“This is great!” growled Sergeant Stripe. “All we need is some of Heidi’s caramel corn.”
“Corporal,” instructed Stripe, “afterwards send a copy of this to my personal log.”
“Notice Wyatt’s technique and learn ladies,” growled Pinky as she pointed. “He’s not hurting him. He’s letting the situation speak for itself.”
“Oh, my Goddess,” gasped Private Paws, “did Roland just…”
“Yup, he crapped his pants! Notice the tell-tale brown trail, ladies,” confirmed Commander Pinky.
“Oh, Murket Snakes,” growled a disappointed Sergeant Stripe. “It’s over.”
Commander Pinky turned to address her soldiers. “Ladies, this is a wonderful illustration of how the power of suggestion in the right situation is a more powerful and enduring message than any actual physical violence that you might inflict. Violence can be endured, but with a mere suggestion, the mind will make its own much worse demons. I believe this experience will haunt Roland for the rest of his life.”
“Commander,” inquired Corporal Springer, “can I upload this onto YouTube?”
“I’d love for you to…but no,” growled Pinky. “But make absolutely certain Belle Claire gets a copy immediately.”
Forty Long Seconds for Roland Later…
>Blue Light<
Wyatt stood in front of Sonny Bongo again with his hands tightly gripped to the lapels of Roland’s sport coat.
“And if you ever hit another woman—or return to this club,” snarled Wyatt in his face as he shook him, “or come anywhere near any member of my family, I will let you go the next time.”
He threw Roland to the floor. Roland shrieked and ran away. While Wyatt watched Roland streak out the front door, he retracted his wings and made them invisible again. He took a deep breath, turned, and stared directly at a shocked Sonny Bongo, who now absolutely didn’t like that Wyatt was looking at him.
Wyatt’s frown turned into a smile. “Hey! Aren’t you Sonny Bongo?”
Sonny nervously nodded.
“Hey, I’m your biggest fan,” exclaimed Wyatt.
He gripped Sonny’s limp hand. “I saw your fight on YouTube against Ferdinand the Destroyer in Manilla last month. That was a fantastic fight. You have some great moves. Can I buy you a drink?” asked Wyatt, motioning to the bartender.
Sonny stared at Wyatt, and Pierre quickly interrupted. “Sonny would be glad to have you buy him a drink. Wouldn’t you, Sonny?”
He lightly tapped Sonny on the back of the head. Sonny silently nodded.
Wyatt smiled at Pierre. “Sonny doesn’t seem to be much of a talker.”
He patted Sonny on the shoulder. “But you’re one hell of a fighter!”
Commander Pinky watched and listened to Wyatt and Sonny’s projection in admiration. “Classic Wyatt,” she whispered to herself.
When Wyatt returned to the table, everyone had crowded around Claire’s phone while Heidi comforted Claire sobbing.
“What’s going on?” asked Wyatt.
Julie gazed up at Wyatt. “It’s a video Commander Pinky sent Claire regarding your little adventure a minute ago with Roland,” said Julie. “How high up did you take him? How far was he going to free-fall if you had let go?”
“Five thousand meters, I wanted him to have a lot of time to think about his sins.” Wyatt grinned. “It was a little cold but you know on a clear night like this the lights above Paris are really beautiful from up there. Too bad Roland didn’t appreciate the unique opportunity I gave him.”
Wyatt smiled and reached his hand out to Claire. “Ma belle Claire, would you care to dance?”
Claire looked upward at Wyatt through her tears and allowed Wyatt to pull her to her feet and onto the dance floor. The DJ played a slow song and Wyatt embraced Claire gently to him while he kissed her on the forehead.
“Merry Christmas, ma belle Madeline,” said Wolf.
Madeline buried herself in Wolf’s shoulder and whispered. “You will always be my hero, Herr General.”
>Blue Light<
Somewhere on a beach in the South Pacific, Wyatt continued to dance with Claire as the sun set magnificently in front of them.
Claire kicked off her shoes and sighed as her feet strolled through the fluffy warm sand. “How did Roland end up in my club?” asked a curious Claire.
“I had Michael implant a subtle suggestion,” replied Wyatt as he caressed the muscles in her back. “Like he did with Teddy’s brother.”
Claire took a deep breath. “But how did he get in? My people have orders to never let him in.”
Wyatt nibbled her neck. “Please don’t be angry with him,” he requested. “But I gave Francois one hundred Euros to let him pass through.”
“Did Francois know what you were going to do to Roland?” asked Claire.
Wyatt rolled his tongue over Claire’s earlobe and sucked while she moaned. “Well…he knew I wasn’t going to play nice with him,” said Wyatt.
“I think that I will be giving Francois a raise for Christmas,” said Claire, snuggling against Wyatt.
The table watched as Wyatt and Claire disappeared.
“Well,” said Gretchen, sitting next to Julie, “what do we do now? The trollop known as Claire will keep Wyatt busy for the rest of the night.”
Julie, in a mischievous mood, stood and asked… “Has anyone here ever driven very fast down the avenue des Champs-Élysées at two in the morning in a red Cadillac Convertible with huge tail fins before?”
Madame Manx unexpectedly raised her hand, prompting a puzzled look from Jake. Surprised, but maybe not that surprised, Julie tossed the keys to Madam Manx and everyone at the table merrily followed her out of the club past a grinning Francois.
Paris Early Morning News Update
Camille, the news anchor, began, “In local news, early this morning four Paris police vehicles were involved in a high-speed chase down the avenue des Champs-Élysées and onto the back streets of Paris. The car being pursued, reportedly a red Cadillac convertible with large spacecraft-like tail fins was first spotted at two a.m. doing doughnuts at the Arc De Triomphe traffic circle while its crazed passengers were described as holding their arms in the air as if they were riding a roller coaster. Police were called in and the Cadillac raced wildly away on the Champs-Élysées. Luckily at that time in the morning the streets were nearly empty, and no one was hurt. The car, pursued for fifteen minutes, disappeared on a side street. Police are baffled as there are no 1959 red Cadillac car registrations of that make and model in any EU databases.”
Dandre shook his head and went on with the next news story. “The French Civil Aviation Authority this morning is equally baffled by a report from a private jet regarding illegal skydiving that occurred last night in Paris airspace. The plane, a business charter, was on a slow decent to Charles De Gaulle International1 when the pilots say they witnessed two men hovering at around 5000 meters.2 The pilots said that the two men were dressed like they were going to a dance club and neither seemed to be wearing a parachute. One of the men, according to the pilot, had wings and smiled and waved as the aircraft flew past. No bodies in central Paris have been found.”
“Wow!” Dandre laughed, looking at Camille as he finished. “Since they were wearing dance clothes, maybe we should check to see what was going on at Grand Ennui last night. Weird things always seem to happen there. Maybe Julie Ardennes and Le Surfer Yogi Bear were in town.”
“Let’s go get us a pic-a-nic basket, Boo-Boo,” imitated a highly amused-with-himself, Dandre.
Camille stared at her co-anchor. “Actually,” commented Camille to the morning audience, “that was our next story.”
“In other local news famed singer Julie Ardennes was spotted last night at Paris nightclub Grand Ennui in the company of…”