In Which Cheering Up BM Continues to be the Driving Force of this Story

KSA sat next to his sister, in front of the fireplace. She was dozing off, after a meal of wada pav, fish-and-chips and french toast with chocolate spread. "Dyspepsia, engorged, gargantuan, visceral...", she muttered. KSA sighed. He hated to wake her up (mainly because of her propensity to come up with theories he couldn't understand head or tail of) but some things Had to Be Done. And this was one of them.

"??!", he said, pronouncing her name with just the right degree of incredulous astonishment (she wouldn't respond otherwise). "Huh?", she woke up with a start, looking around. She noticed her idiot brother gawping at her and rubbing the last vestiges of apple-and-rhubarb-strudel-just-like-her-mum-used-to-make-it pipe dreams from her eyes, she looked at him questioningly. "What is it, now? Let me guess. You couldn't help make that Rowling woman's attempt at writing any better again? That job is just too hard for you. I should probably take it on.Has she already printed out copies?" "Wha-?", stammered KSA. "I only wanted to ask you if I could umm...err...y'know..ahem", he bleated.

"Cough it up, you dolt. What dya need to do?", really, she couldn't believe KSA! Waking her up from her nap (tearing her away from contemplations of Belgian waffles. With Honey. And Cream) just to blither away at her. "Well..would it be against the contract if I went back to the last d-i-d?", he mumbled, almost under his breath. "What?! Why would you want to go back? You mean the chick in the Aston? Oh and that really nice looking, Sean Connery look-alike old gent?", she allowed herself a smile. So rare to meet helpful folk during her missions. "Why would you want to go back?", she was curious now. Could it be? Had her brother finally.....she couldn't believe it. He turned a slow, tomato-red under her intent gaze. She started chuckling. "Which one of them?", she asked him in between chortles. "The one in the Bentley. With the nice man you liked.", he mumbled even more under his breath. "Nice, nice", she approved in her best elder-sister voice. She rubbed her hands together, "Let's get to work then. We need to find out where they are, don't we?".

Whirrrr.Too many cooks are better than one in the bush. Forewarned is forespawned. Tis better to have loafed and lost than never to have loafed at all. So think wisely and as well as possible. Depending on how deep it is. The well, that is. Half a loaf, as they say, is enough for dinner. Whirrrr.

KSA looked up with startled attention. "Tch", said ??! irritably. The damn 55-er Oracle spewing out gobbledy-gook again. She didn't know why she even listened to it anymore. "Do shut up", she snapped in its direction and continued looking into the crystal ball. But KSA couldn't help thinking about it. Half a loaf was, after all, enough for dinner. As long as one wasn't ??!.

Brief Update on What Constitutes a Pain, Flaffily Speaking (Or Missives From the Trenches)

Grad school is a pain.



Orientation is a pain.



Life is dangerously set on the brink of being a pain.



"So much to do, so little time" is a saying coined by someone who was definitely a pain. I can just sense it (I have a theory that most sayings can give a very nice peephole into the character of the coiner but more on that one later).



I'm sorry I haven't blogged more :( since that is one of the few things that right now wouldn't be classified a pain.



BM, pliss to accept the spaces in lieu of words and I promise a brilliant new post as soon as the weekend swings around.

In Which some Loose Ends are Tied Up and some Explanations are Made

Remember the guy who asked me if this story was ever going to end? He recently took it upon himself to suggest that the last episode (as in the previous one-last not final-last, which would have been an entirely unamusing pun that I would never stoop so low as to use, thank you very much *sniff*) might be a good place to stop (he seems to think that I'm kowtowing to at least some of the laws of motion with much more fidelity than is required). So I thought about it and umm it seems reasonable enough. What do you guys think?

Secondly, June and July (so far) have been straggly months for poor Flaff. I've been using him very badly. Many apologies. But now I'm back (whoo hoo) and I shall take up the reins seriously and go back to my daily posting schedule (and no, that schedule isn't impelled by boredom and lack of anything better to do, Mr. Officious-person-in-the-front-row). I have some excellent posts all set up for this month (at least I have one of my renowned theory-posts, outlining a blog theory which the Prof was kind enough to proclaim a Quirky Theory, haha (the rest of you won't get the joke until you read that post, so sorry) half laid out umm kinda....sorta). Though first things first, I shall tackle the dreaded 8-tag of C.S. The rest of you can quake and tremble cos you never know where the finger of doom (ie my finger, very doomy it is) will come to rest among the lot of you. Muahahahahahaha.

Thirdly, this month shall see an unprecedented level of nepotism on this blog. Don't say I didn't warn you guys.

Fourthly (and also finally), I read two books reviewed by two blogger reviewer dudes whose judgments I normally find trustworthy. The first was Above Average which was passed off in the review as a book holding mainly rainy-afternoon value. While I ended up agreeing with a large part of Falstaff'take on it, I thought I saw something in it that set it apart from afternoon timepass status. The writing (while sometimes definitely amateurish) had that instinctive gift of storytelling implicit in it (haven't you found so often that some authors jerk along in fits and starts and while their finished products are perfectly passable - sometimes brilliant- there's something about it that doesn't sit right? Like one Christie, Agatha as illustrious example). And I think the book has more depth than it is widely given credit for and lumping it in the Five Point Someone category is quite unfair. I was never in IIT, never in Delhi, never a guy, but I totally identified with the entire book. Read it, you guys, if you haven't already. The second book, No Onions nor Garlic came recommended highly and left me totally cold. An unaffectionately rendered too clever to be called book trying vainly to imitate Wodehouse of all people and not managing to pull it off at all in my ever-so-vain-and-totally-conceited-and-infallible opinion. Give it a miss, I'd say :).

So to sum up the minutes of this post, I'm starting school next week ( :((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((( ). All sympathetic contributions will be accepted in the Comments section. Thank you vairy vairy much.

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!)

In Which RCW is Treated in a Way that Might Please Scout

It was a matter of minutes before RCW and BM were sailing back down the freeway (especially because someone - and by someone we mean the sort of dastardly old man who would compare Bridget Jones to Elizabeth Bennet- daftheadedly left the keys in the ignition). Except this time in a beautifully sweet-running grey Aston Martin. RCW was just beginning to wonder where they were headed when she saw a sign. "Portugal 60 miles that-a-way" it said. She started humming along to the radio, feeling pretty chirpy. She didn't know the words to it but she hummed anyway. BM hated people who hummed along with the radio but short of pushing RCW out of the car she could think of no way to shut her up. She was just about to suggest that any humming could be taken elsewhere (in the sort of nasty tone that comes naturally to some people and is really extremely hard to learn if you don't have the knack of it from the cradle onwards - haven't you ever noticed how some babies bawl in the nastiest of tones? Sorta like a scary Exorcist type crying) when someone cleared their throat from the region of the back seat.

"Excuse me, ladies", said an unmistakably urbane voice that RCW had often heard quoting Iranian poetry with her dad in their living room (hers and her dad's living room, not hers and Baron F's or Baron F's and her dad's which would have been a tad weird). BM almost shrieked but she was proud to think that she'd managed to choke it back in the last minute. Her arms still trembled a little bit but she bravely said, "Umm are you an axe murderer, mister? Because you need to know that I'm wanted by the cops so they could be chasing us right now!" Baron F, a little taken aback said, "No. But this happens to be my neighbour's car. Are you perhaps one of RCW's friends?", he nodded in a glacially friendly way at RCW to show peaceably good intentions (since the thought of upsetting the crazy woman driving the car while they were cruising at what seemed like 120 mph on the freeway seemed like a bad one). "No no she isn't my friend and this is the Prof's car???? OMG I had no idea I am insuchamessandnowireallydontknowwhati'll-", RCW slumped forward.

This time I have to regrettably inform my readers that BM *did* scream. It was a quickly choked off scream though (if that makes it any better). "I simply detest people who mess up their punctuations and use all those acronyms", drawled Baron F as he pocketed what looked like a Beretta. BM gulped.

In Which an Aston Martin Lost is an Aston Martin Gained

JAP and TR have been completely ignored for a bit one feels. So let us turn the spotlight of our immense fascination onto them. We left TR cowering in his seat with JAP pretending that TR was not being embarrassing, when in fact he was (y'know how those situations are, the there's-a-pink-elephant-sitting-next-to-me sort). Very. Before TR could get another word out, the car door on his side was wrenched open and a visibly flushed and breathless Ph piled in. "How could you both leave me and go? Huh?", she asked in between pants (the ones involving air and lungs, not the trouser sort). "Didn't I tell you? 'Let's leave, let's leave' I said. But oh no, we have to find pants" (the trouser sort), continued TR, still muttering defiantly under his breath. Baron JAP blustered gamely and with regrettable futility, "But beti, you know that this sort of thing is not suitable for a young, beautiful girl like you. No? Come, we don't have time to waste. So you go home and wait and we'll be back before you know it. Umm maybe you could have some hot tea waiting for us or something....." TR sank lower into his seat. Sometimes, he didn't know how Baron JAP had survived into his dotage.

Ph drew a breath, her eyes shot sparks of anger and resentment, and her bosom heaved (in an appropriately delicate (but totally non-feminine, which is not to say it was masculine-i *have* met men with heaving bosoms but that is beside the point-it was just extremely gender-neutral and very PC, by which I don't mean Phil Collins) way of course). Before she could launch into a speech on feminist rights, or even worse burn her choli, TR thought it wise to stem the flow. "Now, now, Ph darling, you know that we would love to have you with us. And I understand that RCW, your friend from childhood, your sister almost-" "Like Damon and Pythias", offered JAP in mumbled support of TR's brave attempt. "Yes, like D and P. Or even like that guy who came back as a ghost to visit his friend. Remember?" "Which one? Wasn't that D and P?" "No, of course not, my dear JAP. You have got it all mixed up. These two were Japanese. If I remember right." "Really? Japs? Hahahaha", laughed the Baron with a dash of the old Sean Connery charm of manner (really one does wonder how he made it into his dotage).

"If you've both quite finished", pronounced Ph in glacial accents, "maybe we could go and search for my friend who might be dying in a ditch for all we know?" TR had the grace to blush. The impatient tongue-clicking of Ph made both TR and JAP a tad bit nervous. "Maybe, we should just take her along", capitulated JAP (isn't it sweet how men always pretend that they have a choice?). "Fine, do whatever you want. It's your chase. I'm only in this for the ride", said TR cleverly pushing all responsibility onto JAP's shoulders (not for nothing had he slaved as a Professor for so many years). "Hey, it was your idea", protested JAP as he slid the Aston into gear and continued down the driveway.

TR's obstinate silence refusal to engage in conversation caused JAP to lapse into an ominously petulant silence. Ph, triumphantly maintained a stream of chatter (mostly reminiscing about her childhood spent frolicking with RCW around the countryside, which didn't help stem JAP's injured and now a tad bit appalled silence). They had been coursing along the highway for almost half an hour when Ph, spotting a restroom and refreshments exit yelled (over the radio, which she insisted on playing loudly - Westlife was gamely chirruping Uptown Girl at the moment to TR's acute pain and discomfort, the latter of which was exacerbated by his irresistibly flapping dressing robe attracting more than its fair share of comic attention from Ph - girls these days encapsulated TR's opinion of the situation)for JAP to stop the car. Which he almost did in the middle of the highway before TR managed in the last minute to remind him politely that they were in fact on a road populated by very many very fast-moving cars. "A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do", said Ph gaily, oblivious to the near death experience she had just survived (I have a theory that NDEs kill people by their very near-deathiness which is why there is so little verifiable evidence for or against them), "and right now this girl's gotta-" "Yes, yes, we get the picture", said TR hastily interrupting what promised to be awkward revelations. JAP pulled up at the service stop and the three of them trooped into the McD's that was flashing its message of peace, love and cholesterol bravely into the afternoon sunlight.

As the threesome disappeared through the revolving doors, a couple of girls whom we've gotten to know pretty well revolved out. RCW was by now as excited about the new car they were going to umm borrow as BM. In fact more so, cos BM seemed quite blase about the whole thing. They had been walking in the parking lot for 2 minutes (give or take - length of a minute depending on other stuff and so forth), when they both stopped short and sighed in chorus. Their eyes had almost simultaneously come to rest on a lovely little grey Aston Martin shimmering alluringly. This was it.

In Which Wiseling Does her Bit Introducing KSA (if only I had one, sigh)

RCW hummed along with the strange music that BM seemed to prefer. The monotony of the landscape had slowly lulled her into an almost dreamlike state. She was rudely jerked out of her reverie when BM suddenly, and rather forcefully, slammed on the breaks. The silver Mercedes right behind them managed to screech to a halt, but the other cars were not so lucky. RCW turned to BM, demanding to know what the hell possessed her to do that, only to see BM staring straight ahead with her mouth hanging open. RCW followed her gaze to see what the fuss was all about, and unconsciously mirrored BM's incredulous expression.
In the middle of the road stood a magnificent white stallion, the kind you only see in the movies. Distracted by the majestic creature, RCW was jolted once again, when on looking up, she found arresting blue eyes staring into her own. Mounted on the horse was none other than, (surprise, surprise) a knight in shining armour. The wind seemed to be whipping around the pair, all in all making the scene rather cliche and surreal at the same time.
The knight slowly trotted up to RCW and charmingly extended his hand. "Good Evening, M'lady. I, your knight in shining armour, am here to rescue you from the evil clutches of...." At this, he suddenly glanced and BM and looked confused. He retracted his hand to (aristocratically, ofcourse) scratch his head, looking more and more confused.
KSA suddenly got a bright look in his eyes, (y'know.. the light bulb look,) only to slump down and exclaim, "Oh no. Not again!" At this the stallion let out a snort, turned around and began to trot away, all the while muttering about stupid humans who refused to ask for directions.
On this note, BM turned to look questioningly at RCW, and finding nothing to say that could quite fit the situation, shrugged and hit the gas. They drove off, completely oblivious to the destruction that they left in their wake.

In Which Suspense is Preserved At All Costs

BM and RCW raced down the highway. RCW, after a coupla hours finally screwed up the courage to ask BM, "Umm do you always drive this fast?" BM looked at her (which made RCW even nervouser, cos shouldn't BM be watching the road considering the speedo showed 120?), grinned and said, "Nope. Not always. Only when I'm driving a stolen car that I mean to ditch ASAP. Or a float on one of those Pride Parades" she added as an afterthought. "Ah-ha-ha", laughed RCW nervously. Surely, BM was kidding. She looked at BM again. Just to make sure. The slightly manic gleam in BM's eyes didn't make her feel any better. "You're kidding, arent you?" "No, course not. But don't worry. We'll ditch this one as soon's we can find an alternative. This one's a little flashy, no? What dya want to ride in next? An Aston Martin?" RCW gulped. "Umm. Can't we just like rent a car or something?" "Hahahaha. Now tell me *you're* kidding.", chortled BM, with what RCW could only think of as inappropriate hilarity. "I have *never* rented a car in my life. Haha. Rent a car, it seems." RCW was seriously worried now. Maybe this hadn't been the greatest idea. "Don't worry, kiddo. We'll be fine. If the cops follow, you just lie low. In your seat, I mean.", BM smiled at her kindly (again looking away from the road!!). "Only in case of stray bullets. But they hardly ever shoot. Just relax, OK? And don't frown, kiddo. You don't want horrid lines on your face now, do you?". RCW seriously considered opening the passenger door and jumping out. But then, considering the pros, BM seemed perfectly nice. And had a strangely reassuring air about her. Maybe it would be a good idea to stick it out for a bit?

In Which We Follow JAP and TR For A Bit

Last we knew, JAP was banging impatiently on TR's door, remember? Well, to resume the narrative from there, the door opened creakily (around ten minutes after JAP started knocking - which of course was when we were occupied discussing RCW and her exploits - these details are for the saint btw- the celluloid side) to reveal the Prof, in a ratty dressing gown-type thing (atleast there was reason to believe that the thing started its life off as a robe though one would scarce think it to look at it now) with tousled hair and a pipe stuck in his mouth (this was for ??!). "Erm", he enquired politely. "Get dressed. There has been a Crisis", yelled JAP (who had what we must confess a habit of stampeding into other people's houses yelling at them and also of pronouncing his capitals). "Erm", replied TR even more politely, allowing the distraught Baron to walk into his hallway. "RCW has run away", continued JAP sticking to the decibel level calculated to make hair raise. "Could we tone it down a notch, old chap?", asked TR in his cultured tones, "Had a rough night and I'd appreciate some sensitivity in the yelling department".

A half hour later, a much calmer JAP was settled on the sofa with a glass of port in his hand, as TR bustled around getting dressed. Or at least trying to. "Oh fuck this. We don't have time for pants. The chase is on. Let's just go before RCW beti gets further away from us". "But Professor, are you sure you want to come in just your dressing robe?", asked JAP a little hesitantly. It seemed to him that it wasn't quite the thing. "Enough with this childish need for sartorial elegance, JAP. Let's be on our way. Your car or mine?" JAP thought about the grey Aston Martin gleaming in TR's garage and the forest green Jeep in his. It didn't even deserve a passing thought. "Yours", he said gleefully.

As they pulled out of the driveway, JAP behind the wheel there was a sudden scream. "Unkel ji, don't go without me", screeched a familiar voice. "OMG", said TR, trying vainly to scrunch further into the seat and disappear. Since he hadn't yet mastered the art of becoming invisible, this didn't have a visible effect.

(To Be Continued)

In Which a New Player is Introduced (with a Bang)

RCW woke up with the sun shining in her face (which is one of the top 10 nicest ways to wake up, *I* think). She swallowed the bit of toast that she'd stolen from the kitchen and finished it up with a bar of melted chocolate from her pocket (y'know the ones that are so melted that you have to lick them off the wrapping?). She realized with a pang (at her own stupidity) that she hadn't thought to bring any water with her. She'd have to remember that for next time. Feeling quite happy overall (mainly cos of the chocolate. There's nothing like chocolate for making everything feel better - even suffocating in an air-conditionless airport with really sleazy men giving you the once over till you feel like punching their eyes out and then being assailed by what you believe is a wasp that has somehow gotten under your ankle-length skirt and proceeding to yelp and flap around (you, not the wasp) thereby attracting even more unwanted attention and almost missing your flight out of this hellhole- yeah, that's another story), she folded up her dupatta, stowed it in her bag and set off on her merry way.

By mid afternoon I'm happy to tell you that RCW was at the freeway. She had been hearing the noise of cars and trucks speeding by for almost half an hour before she caught a glimpse of the tarmac. But she was unprepared for what she saw in spite of that. The speed at which the vehicles were traveling was actually more than scary. However being a brave girl with a *lot* of gumption, she decided that the nicest thing would be to be inside one of those vehicles moving away from the blogosphere rather than standing at the side of the road, looking. She decided to hitch a ride. This is, in all cases, a very delicate venture and successes are far and few between (or few and far between). But RCW was lucky (beginner's luck it's called no?) and within 5 minutes of standing looking hopefully at passing cars did the trick. A fire-engine red BMW stopped with a screech within feet of her and the passenger side window lowered.

'Need a ride?', asked the lady who was driving, hitching her dark glasses up over her forehead. 'Umm...yes, please', said RCW hesitantly. 'Good, hop in', said Fashionable Lady with the Sunglasses and the Extremely Pretty Scarf. RCW got in to the car, feeling like she was entering a spaceship to an alien world. 'Name's Brown Magic', said the Lady, 'and boy, am I glad to get some company'. She flashed a dazzling smile at RCW. RCW gaped back at her. She could have sworn she'd seen a distinct twinkle in Brown Magic's eyes (y'know like the one in Tony Curtis' baby-blues in The Great Race? Remember?). Something told her this was going to be *quite* the ride.

In Which the Unlikely Rescuer is Revealed (no it isn't me)

Baron JAP knew exactly what he was going to do. He knew the perfect person to help him out here. If a retired detective (with a reputation similar to that of one Holmes, Sherlock, Esq) who had years of pontification, deduction and logical over-analyzing under his belt couldn't figure out where to start hunting for RCW, JAP didn't know who could.

He strode down the driveway (Gracefully, always Gracefully) and walked across the dusty road to the Professor's house. TR and he went back a long way to the Days of their Callow Youth. They would have a pow wow. And things would get Sorted Out. He banged on the door unceremoniously and waited.

Now to return to our heroine whom we left to the tender care of the bushes and her annoying brain. Or at least I meant to return but I'm gonna be a bad author (no donut for me) and put it off till tomorrow. I'm tired and out of inspiration today (and also annoyed with men, in general, and I don't want to write the rest of this and allow it to become tinged with bitterness (which it undoubtedly will). We shall leave that for another day).

Didja see the bracket in a bracket? How cool am i?

Also, also, how about the Unlikely Rescuer, huh? Did any of you guess? Didja? Didja?

In Which Baron JAP Shows his True Colors

We shall now leave RCW sleeping peacefully (like a babe in the woods - which reminds me of the time I proposed to a friend whom I was hiking with that we gracefully give up trying to find the way outta the woods we were in and just sleep under a tree like babes in the wood; she did not seem to think it was a good idea; wasted opportunity one feels) and retrace our steps to Baron JAP's mansion. The soon-to-realise-he's-bereft father woke early that morning. Maybe it was intuition. I've heard tell that parents have the most amazing intuition when it comes to their children (like how my mum knows the weirdest things about me that I've never breathed a word to her about). So maybe it was that. Anyway, he woke up early, stretched and went quietly about his morning ablutions. Now, along the way I might have given the wholly erroneous impression that Baron JAP was a slothful lush. This is actually far from true. *Far* from true.

Baron JAP, in reality was a man of discipline. A man who kept himself very fit, went for a daily jog (in spite of his advancing years he was extremely sprightly, think Sean Connery in Entrapment - I hope some people, let us not name names, are happy with this aside), brushed twice a day and twice at night and did his morning yoga faithfully. Yeah, he indulged in the distilled spirits a little more than was preferred but this was only to drown his private sorrow. You see, Baron JAP was a man who had been very much in love with his wife. Said wife died tragically (of one of those diseases that seemed to wipe out half the population in those days of once upon a time - polio or measles or some such) and no man could have mourned his wife as Baron JAP did. Every hair in his not inconsiderable moustache had drooped like one man. A strong man nursing a private grief is allowed to be a bit of a lush. No?

So, anyway. Baron JAP went about his morning rituals as he always did (this is the bit about him running around like a headless chicken that I had mentioned in the previous episode, just so you know). It was mid-morning by the time he'd showered and was sitting down to breakfast. It displeased him mightily that his daughter (the Apple of his Extremely Healthy Eye) was not at the table, ready to pour out his daily glass of morning milk. This was unlike the dear child and he was most disappointed. Forbearing to shout, yell or make a scene (Man of Discipline, see?) he quickly finished his breakfast before going in search of her. He knocked on her bedroom door before entering and immediately saw the open window. Tsk, so careless the child was becoming. He went over to close the window and as he turned around, he noticed an envelope on the pillow.

Dearest JAP papa it said in what would have been termed trembling accents if it had had a voice. Feeling a cold hand clutch his heart (which I've always wanted to have happen to me), he picked up the envelope and tore it open. On a scrappy sheet of notepaper he saw the tragic little farewell note (I've often wondered why females of the species always feel impelled to write notes letting people know where they're going, why, what for, etc. It's a dreadfully self-destructive need for self-explanation, one feels).

Dearest papa, it said, Please do not hate me for leaving you. But I feel the need to be free and so I'm going away to the city (which will have bright lights). Take care of yourself and listen to Doctor Uncle Ji. I will always remain your loving daughter,. And she ended it by signing RCW with a flourish. Baron JAP was gobsmacked to say the least. That any daughter of his could write a farewell note like this (with not even a quote from Longfellow or anyone) was beside the point. That his Eye's Beloved Apple had run away from home almost broke his heart. He sat on the bed clutching the note in one hand. And suddenly, from inside him there came a big upwelling of anger. No, call it rage. He was furious. How dare she. How dare she!!!! Moustache bristling, he stood up from the bed. He was a Man on a Mission. He would Set Her Straight. Run away, would she. Hah!

I know, I know, I said the Unlikely Rescuer would be introduced in this episode. But I find myself past the rough space limit I've set myself. To make you guys feel better, here's a question. Guess who the Unlikely Rescuer is and whoever guesses right shall be awarded a Great Honor. The Great Honor of having his/her guess incorporated in the next episode. Never let it be said that I'm not an interactive blogger. As interactive as they come, us Revealeds. Guess, guess. Hint: Look around the Blogosphere.