In Which Wiseling's Legacy is Revisited

Now, before everyone jumps on my back (and leaves snarky comments like 'About time'. 'Lazy git', etc) let me just remind you guys that I'm not 1. as jobless as I am in the US when I'm pretending to work 2. left to myself for more than an hour at a stretch and 3. equipped with access to the internet (cos I've been having the funnest time roaming around forests and such like - read that and burn..muahahahaha). And also let me prove my devotion to this enthralling story (which someone despairingly asked me if I'd ever end, and to him I say (snootily) "Yes, I will! All in Good Time!!") by telling you guys that while I was driving on some of the worst roads I've come across in India (mainly cos they were completely washed away by the monsoons) I totally planned this episode out in my head. So there. Let your tears of remorse at your unjust complaints fall freely and wash the sin from your souls (I was recently at an Islamic prayer meeting and have been muchly inspired).

So, getting on with the Life and Times of an Unfortunately Unconscious RCW, we switch back to JAP, TR and Ph. Unsuspecting of the adventures that had befallen his precious Aston, the Professor walked out with JAP and Ph, guzzling a coke (which might or might not have had a drop of Something Stronger in it - and yes I'm talking about Folic Acid). JAP prided himself on his unerring sense of direction and memory. He had never lost a car in a car park in his life. Naturally, he was a little puzzled when he walked to the spot where he'd parked the Martin only to find a grey Bentley in it's stead. He scratched his head in baffled silence, walked around the car, even looked under it. But nothing. He looked at TR and Ph who were standing around idly, observing him. "Forgot where you parked it, didja?", sighed Ph. Not for the first time was she wishing she was anywhere but here with these two idiotic old men. She glared at TR who was now making bubbling noises with his straw. "No!", JAP drew himself to his full height and puffed out his not inconsiderable chest, "I *never* lose a car. It's been stolen." Ph shook her head and turned away to start looking for the car, when out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a little grey car zipping towards the exit. She whipped around, yelling, only to see the Aston pull out of the driveway onto the feeder, a girl driving it and someone who looked uncannily like RCW in the passenger seat. "Guysssssss. They've got the car. She's in it." Before she could finish the sentence JAP and TR were gazing open mouthed at the exit through which the Aston has just disappeared. "Call the police", screamed TR. "Catch them", said JAP running helplessly towards the exit. "Get in the car", yelled Ph. Not for nothing was she a high school student. She knew all there was to know about jacking open locked cars (not that she'd had to do it, someone had left the key in the car door. Rich idiots!). TR was beginning to register a protest and take the high ground re: integrity and morals (hard as BM might find to believe that) when JAP barreled into him, pushing him into the car and slamming the door locked behind him. He then ran to the other side, almost shoved Ph into the middle, got behind the wheel and in a puff of dust, the car roared out of the parking lot. The Bentley was turbo-charged (you *cannot* grumble about this, Senor JAP).

Ph and TR found themselves clutching onto the seats for dear life. "Slow down, slow down", yelled Ph against the wind trying to claw JAP's right eye out while holding onto her own hair which seemed fit to tear out of her scalp and fly away. JAP pulled out a Smith and Wesson, "Shut up, you guys. Not a peep out of any of you. RCW is in that car and we Will Save Her", he yelled pronouncing his capitals viciously. Ph moved closer to TR. JAP was obviously off his rockers. She had often told RCW that. "You're bloody off your rockers", she said, deciding to share the information with JAP himself. These things were better out in the open and treated on time while there was still hope. "You need psychiatric help" , she continued. And found herself lifted out of the seat and onto a saddle. Of a white horse. In front of someone who could be none other than the KSA. Trumpets blared in the background, she looked up into cold, blue eyes. She sighed deeply, closed her eyes and started kicking and screaming. Really, this highway banditry was getting quite uncontrollable. T White horses and armor! What next? TR looked on in bafflement. Maybe he shouldn't have drunk so much coke. Or maybe he shouldn't have put so much of the Stronger Stuff in it (still talking Folic Acid - which is sinetifically proved to have hallucinogenic side effects).

The KSA irritably hissed at Ph to stop being an idiot. Sometimes it annoyed him, how these wretched damsels in distress could never accept help graciously. Always kicking and biting. If it weren't for them he wouldn't even need the armor (which was dreadfully hot and had no scratching room). He urged his horse on faster. The trumpeting was giving him a headache. But it was in the terms of his contract and he could do nothing about it. Bugger it. He ran through his instructions in his head. He had to find a grey Aston Martin. Ah, there it was. Drop this d-i-d into it. Ok done that. He heard a yelp and a slight thud. He seemed to have dropped her onto someone else. Oh well. Not everything in life was perfect. He stopped in front of the car, his horse gracefully lifted up her fore-hooves (Good Ol' Dobby, you could always count on her). The trumpets reached a crescendo, and he galloped off. He patted Dobby on her back. A job well done.

Two minutes later, his sister smacked him on his head. "Why can't you get the simplest things right, you dolt? It was an *exchange*. Get it?? Means you give each party something the other party had!! Do I have to do everything myself?" She picked up the reins of Thunder, her velvet-black stallion and thundered back down to the freeway. She reached the Aston, identified the girl in the red blouse (at least this was better than last time when she had had to find a nose-ringed girl wearing a black tee in a high school), lifted her out of the car, bowed graciously at the driver (a girl who seemed to have lost her scream somewhere in her throat), smiled a twinkle and said "My apologies. My idiot brother screwed up". She galloped towards the Bentley that was following at a tearing pace. The driver (a total Sean Connery look alike, she thought appreciatively) was dangling a SnW in one hand and frantically pushing what appeared to be buttons on the dashboard. Before her eyes, the Bentley's carriage rose from it's wheels by a good two meters. How nice, the slightly oldish S.C type was trying to help her. She smiled gratefully at him, and neatly placed RCW on top of the man in the passenger seat. The girl seemed a bit limp. But that wasn't any of her concern. The contract was fulfilled, that was 1 grand in her pocket. One month's rent. Horizon Clouds were becoming bloody expensive real estate. She sighed as she galloped off into the horizon.

Both BM and JAP found their screams at the exact same instant. One can only sympathize (in some futility) with the Professor and Baron F. But that, gentlemen, is how the cookie crumbles.

(I hope to see at least a couple of happy campers now!)