Mythical Creatures

   Vampires! 
   Okay, what was your first thought when you read that word?  Twilight?  Dracula?  Van Helsing?  Blood sucking bats?  Until recently I would have said Twilight, even though I have neither read nor seen any part of the series.  Then I read Dracula, so now I think of him when I hear “vampires”.  It was a good book at the beginning.  Pretty slow, but fairly interesting.  But the whole ending battle that Van Helsing waged against Dracula was lame.  Dracula wasn’t even in it.  I was like, “dude! I wanted a cool fight where the super vampire whoops up on everyone then gets shot in the head with a silver bullet and BURNED!”  No such luck.  So that greatly diminished my appreciation for the book.  Now I want to watch Van Helsing and see some real vampire slaying.  Besides, I like Hugh Jackman. 
   Moving on to a more favored mystical creature, let’s talk about dragons.  Who doesn’t love a good dragon?  Dragons are awesome.  They fly along and rain down death and destruction from above.  Of course, sometimes they’re nice, wisecracking beasties, but not usually.  Most of the time they’re either wise and aloof, or evil and greedy.  But dragons have been made pretty much every way possible.  Except stupid.  I have never heard of a dumb dragon.  They’re always smart.  Whether they’re good or bad, they’ve always got brains.  When they’re bad, though, they generally get mad or something, giving the good guys the opportunity to kill them.  When they’re good, the bad guys always seem to have some sort of weapon that is deadly to dragons.  But when the dragons are bad, the good guys don’t get those handy dandy items.  Odd how that works out, huh?  I haven’t read a whole lot of dragon lore, so I may be a bit off, but oh well.  This is all balderdash anyhow.  A bevy of it.
   So let’s discuss unicorns!  Those shiny white beasties that look just like horses, but they get a horn and mystical powers for no apparent reason.  Who came up with them anyway?  I can imagine his or her thought process now. “Hhhmmm, I need some cool, mystical creature.  I like horses.  So what say I put a horn on a beautiful horse, give it magical powers, and call it a unicorn!  Genius!”  Uh, no.  My apologies if you who are reading like unicorns.  I’m not really trying to degrade them, they just seem unimaginative and lame when I think about it.  Yet they are one of the best known legends.  Maybe because people can envision them so easily.  There’s no real description needed.  Just say the word unicorn and people think “horse with horn”.  Saves a lot of bother when making up those mystical creatures for your fantasy story. 
   Now I want to forget unicorns.  Therefore, I shall move on to Bigfoot.  Most people will tell you Bigfoot is a myth.  Some people, though, will tell you he’s real.  As is the case with pretty much any mythical creature out there.  However, with Bigfoot, the minority might just be right.  I mean, did you see that footprint?  I did.  It was huge.  Massively large.  Like six feet long.  You know what I think he does?  I think he practices standing stock still so when he needs to, he can disguise himself as a tree.  He’s so tall he just has to stay in the forests and when hikers or whatnot go by, he simply stands still and they walk on by.  So, when you’re walking in a forest, watch out for those big trees.  Especially two big trees standing close together and kinda leaning toward each other.  But if you do see something, don’t let on.  Who knows what Bigfoot might do if anyone saw him.

Revelations

   (When we last left Fred, he had flown into great black yonder with Jonathan and docked in a really cool space station)

   Fred gaped as he looked around.  It was huge and white.  Chandeliers hung from the looming ceiling and large fountains shot their water high into the air.  The whole place was dotted with full grown trees that looked to real to be fake and Fred nearly toppled backward in surprise when he looked down to see the floor carpeted with grass. 
   He was even more surprised when Jonathan stepped forward and disappeared with a shimmer.  Fred stepped after him and gaped anew, this time with disappointment.  The chandeliers, fountains, trees, and grass, were all gone, replaced by a small, dirty grey room. 
   Jonathan gestured behind them. “Optical illusion.”
   Fred finally shut his mouth. “What for?”
   Jonathan shrugged. “Aliens.”
   Then he walked out the door.  Fred stared after him for a moment, not moving, then he remembered he didn’t know where he was, so he ran to catch up.  Outside the small room were small corridors of the same dingy grey, and a lot of them.  Luckily for Fred, Jonathan had not gone far.  When he was next to Jonathan, Fred let his questions loose.
   “What are we doing here?  Are there really aliens?  Is the PEANUTs HQ in space?  Are you Russian?  Is Mars inhabited?  Did ET come from there?  Can I go home?  Where’s the bathroom?”
   Jonathan pointed to a side door which Fred quickly entered.  A short time later he came back out.
   “Okay,” he smiled. “I’m good.”
   Jonathan nodded and continued walking.  Fred matched his pace.
   “Well,” he asked. “Aren’t you going to answer any of my questions?”
   Jonathan shook his has. “I wasn’t planning to, no.”
   “What?  Why not?”
   “Because, at the moment, I have more important things on my mind.”
   “What’s your point?”
   Jonathan stopped walking and faced Fred. “I don’t have the time.”
   Then, before Fred could answer, he continued walking.  Fred ran to catch up again.
   “But you’re just walking,” he protested. “Can’t you walk and talk?”
   “No!”
   “But you’re not doing anything!”
   Jonathan increased his pace. “Oh really?  You will no doubt be surprised to learn that I am currently running two wars, both covert, trying to prevent nuclear war, wipe out terrorism, and negotiate world peace.  All at the same time.  Do you call that not doing anything?”
   Fred stared at him. “Inconceivable!  And yes, I do know what that word means.”
   Jonathan glared at him but didn’t say anything.
   “The only question I have left is why am I here?”
   Jonathan halted for a moment, then went back to walking. “I had a moment of weakness in the airport when I saw you.  Others saw that weakness and tried to exploit it.  Hence, I brought you here.”
  “What!?”  Fred stopped dead. “You think I’m a weakness?”
   Jonathan stopped too. “Yes, frankly.”
   Fred glared at him for a full minute.
   “I want to go home!” he finally shouted.
   “You’ll have no protection down there.  They can easily find you and kill you.”
   “I don’t care.  I’m not staying up here with you, you dirty traitor you.”
   Jonathan sighed. “All right.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.  Go back to the hotel room and you’ll be returned to earth.”
   Fred turned and walked away.
   “Thanks,” he called over his shoulder. “For nothing.”
   Back in the room he lay on one of the beds and stewed as he felt the room detach from the space station and headed to earth.  How could Jonathan do this?  Fred had thought they were pals.  Now?  Fred snorted.  Guess you really do never know who your friends are. 
   A thud and slight hissing sound told Fred he was back on earth.  He got up with a new determination.  He had started out after the PEANUTs without Jonathan and he could still do it.
   The PEANUT terrorists would again rue the day they stole his peanuts!

Transportation

   I like trains. 
Well, okay, so I don’t really.  But there’s this hilarious youtube video (the link to which I can provide in the comments if anyone is interested) and that’s it’s all about.  I laughed.  Hard.  And now I like trains.  Besides, I’ve heard trains are the most romantic way to travel.  At least, I’m pretty sure it was trains.  Planes are fastest, cars are most dangerous, so trains must be most romantic.  It’s simply logical.  I am part Vulcan if anyone didn’t know.  I think I’m distantly related to Spock on my mother’s brother’s side, twice removed.
But this isn’t about Star Trek, it’s about transportation.  I want to fly in a plane, preferable on the way up to skydive, or go for a ride on one of those cruise ship dealybobbers.  They probably don’t allow this, but it would be wicked awesome to take a dive off the bow* of one of those things.  While it was standing still, of course.  Jumping off the bow while it was still moving would just be stupid.  Unless you had terrorists or something chasing after you.  However, in that case, I would advise jumping off the side instead of the bow.  Safer that way.
   Speaking of safety, cars are dangerous!  Or, rather, all the wacko drivers out there are dangerous!  Yes, I’ll admit it, my greatest fear is driving.  Don’t you realize how crazy dangerous it is?  At any moment a drunk driver might come out of nowhere and slam right into you.  These days it doesn’t even have to be drunk driving.  Texting is as likely a cause.  It’d be all like “lol, c u ltr” BAM!  Out of all the church billboards I’ve seen, my favorite, by far, is, “Honk if you love Jesus.  Text while driving if you want to meet Him”.  And there you have it, folks, in a nutshell.  Texting and driving is a killer combination.  They should ban cell phones from cars entirely.  Of course, that probably wouldn’t make much difference.
   Okay, now that my rant against cell phones is done (and I hope nobody hates me for it.  If you do, let me say that I’m sure you are the sole exception of people who can’t text and drive) let us move on to airplanes.  You know, the things with wings and tails and stuff trying to impersonate birds.  Except they’re metal.   And they use jet engines.  So when you really think about it, not like birds at all.  And when you think about it even more, you begin to wonder how the heck they get off the ground in the first place.  I mean, these things are bazillions of tons, and yet they just float off the runways and up into the air.  Inconceivable!  However, despite defying the laws of gravity, they are quite safe if there are no malfunctions and if lightning doesn’t strike them or something like that.  At least up there the chance of crashing into another plane is practically nil.  And you can feel safe in the knowledge that the pilots aren’t texting while they’re driving.  At least…I hope not…
   So now that I’ve covered, to an extent, trains, boats, automobiles, and planes, there’s just one more.  Horses!  The oldest method of transportation known to man.  Besides walking that is.  But why walk when you can ride a horse?  Ride like the wind, Bullseye!  And, in a way, cars will never be able to compete with horses.  Sure, they’re faster, more efficient, all that junk, but they have no personalities.  Your car is just a hunk of metal.  Your horse is your friend, or can be if you let it.  A car can never be that.  Until they fit all the cars out with Siri personalities that is.  But even then, it won’t be the same as an intelligent horse.  And this is coming from a person who has only been on a horse two or three times in his life.
   Now the only thing left for man in earthbound transportation is good, old fashioned transporters to completely obliterate the whole inconvenience of travel altogether.  That, and hovercraft.

   *Front end of the ship for any non-nautical** personages.
   **Sea stuff for any non-vocabularized*** personages.
   ***Big words

The Great Black Yonder

   (When we last left Fred, he met a clumsy guy named Anthony, then his hotel room exploded with him and Jonathan inside)

   Well, perhaps exploded is the wrong word.  There was an explosion, but it came from beneath their room and rocketed them up like rocks from a volcano.  The shock knocked Fred onto his back and he was glued there by the Gs as they shot up, up, up.  Their ascent slowed, and eventually stopped.  But instead of plummeting back down like Fred had expected, they hung in the air.  Everything had gone dark too, which was odd because it was barely past midday.
   Fred got to his feet and switched on a light.  Jonathan was lying in one of the beds, and as the light came on, he smiled.
   Fred glared at him. “What just happened?”
   Jonathan gestured to the window. “Take a look.”
   Fred walked over to the window and drew the curtains aside.  His jaw dropped.  Outside, everything was black.  Not black like dark, or nighttime or anything, but black.
   “Bottom right-hand corner,” Jonathan said.
   Fred turned his gaze downward and craned his head.  He could just make out a green and blue orb.
   “Holy cow!” he yelled. “Is that earth?”
   Jonathan laughed. “Yes, that is earth, and yes, we are in space.”
   “But…but…but…but how!?  We’re in a hotel room.”
   Jonathan shrugged. “What can I say?  Today’s technology is capable of anything.”
   “But it’s a hotel room in space.”
   “Your point is?”
   Fred didn’t have an answer, so he didn’t try. “Holy cow!”
   “Come away from the window, Fred.  And close the curtains.  We’re about to rotate to be facing the sun, and if the curtains aren’t closed, we’ll be blinded.”
   Fred hurriedly stepped back and closed the curtains.  Then he jumped onto the other bed, the action making him think of a question. 
  “Does this place have artificial gravity or something?”
   Jonathan nodded. “Yes.”
   “Cool.”  Fred bounced around a bit, then stopped. “Where are we going?”
   “We’re going to dock in a space station in about ten minutes.”
   “Sweet.” Fred frowned. “Wait, why?”
   “Why what?”
   “Why are we here in space?  I thought you were gonna help me stop the PEANUTs!”
   “And I will.  In due time.”
   “But why not now?  And speaking of the word why, which is rapidly becoming my least favorite word, you never did tell me how you know so much about everything.”
   “That’s because I can’t.”
   “Why not?”
   “It’s classified.”
   Fred groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re a part of M007.”
   Jonathan laughed. “Oh no, nothing of the sort.”
   “Then who are you?”
   Jonathan sighed. “I can’t tell you.”
   Fred glared at him. “Don’t make me ask ‘why’ again.”
   Jonathan shrugged. “I’m sorry, Fred.  I can’t tell you now.  Maybe, possibly, sometime later.”
   “When’s later?”
   “Not now.”
   Fred grumbled, but didn’t say anything until a few minutes later when the ship began docking procedures, at which time his questions poured forth again.
   “Does this ship have auto-pilot or something?”
   “Yes,” Jonathan replied.
   “Is the space station disguised as a hotel too?”
   “Yes.”
   Fred snorted. “Why?  Are you afraid aliens will come along and blow it out of the sky?”
   “Yes.”
   Fred was surprised. “Really?”
   “Yes.”
   Fred narrowed his eyes. “You’re just saying that to get me to shut up, aren’t you?”
   “Yes.”
   "Fine, be that way."
   Fred crossed his arms and sulked.  There came a dull thud and Jonathan got to his feet.
   “We’ve docked,” he said.
   Fred didn’t reply.
   “All right.  You don’t have to talk to me, but you do have to follow me.”
   Jonathan opened the door and went out and Fred followed.  Once outside, he gasped.  Mainly because a  passing janitor splashed him with some water, but partly because the space station looked cool.

    To be continued…

Books, Stories, and Other Such Literary Works

   Hey!  Did you know I’m writing a book?  Yeah, it’s all about this kid who goes to another world where he has to defeat the bad guy and basically save the world before he can go back home.  Sounds incredibly cliché, right?  But it’s totally not.  I have all this really original stuff, like abominable snowmen, aliens that look like humans, but actually aren’t, and talking animals.  Oh, and it’s all magical and stuff too, just in case you were getting the wrong idea about this being some kind of Narnia rip-off.  It’s not.  This is entirely made up of my own ideas and not influenced in any way by the fantasy I read and watch.
   Anyway, on the subject of books, I’ve been reading a series by Orson Scott Card called Ender’s Game.  Well, that’s what the first book is called.  I’m not actually sure what the whole series called, but it’s pretty darn good.  It’s sci-fi, and the sci in sci-fi is a definite presence in the series.  The thing is jam packed with scientific mumbo jumbo.  But Card has such good writing skills he can drift a bit into that and still keep a captivating storyline running. 
   Speaking of good stories, or any story for that matter, you always have to remember that when you first pick that book up, you don’t know whether it will be happy, sad, terribly frightening, or enjoyable to the extreme.  The character you grow to love could fall off a cliff and die in the end.  Or they could end up learning an important lesson and being all the better for it.  Or they could simply learn nothing at all and continue with their life same as before the story started.  But worst of all, the story could leave you hanging over who knows what.  The story may build up a big climatic battle, then stop, right before the forces clash.  There might not even be a climatic anything, it could just stop somewhere in the story, leaving you to wonder about what happens.
   Now that you know the dangers of this kind of story, let me weave a little one for you.  It was in a land, far far away, a long time ago.  In the times of dragons and magic, there was a boy; his name was Bob, a very unusual name back then.  He was a simple farm boy, but he was chosen to be the companion of the King’s son.  They were both fond of riding and as they were riding through the woods one day they found themselves in a place neither of them had been before.

   The End

   Yes, the end.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.  If you don’t believe it, look back up there and you’ll see I did indeed warn you.  Now don’t be mad.  I was just showing an example.  I could have had Bob fall off a cliff, or find a troll in the woods and then I could have stopped the story right as the troll was about to squash Bob.  Of course, I also could have had Bob go through the forest and do and learn nothing at all.  Or I could have had him save the King’s son’s life, and live happily ever after on all the money the King gave to him for it.  But happy endings are so old, and boring, and cliché.  Who needs them?  The point it, I could have had several endings that would have been a lot worse than the one I actually used.  Could have, could have, could have.  At least with that one, you could give it a happy ending in your mind if you so wished.  Or if you’re a person who likes darker stories you could’ve had everyone die.  That’s always an option.
   So I guess the moral of this post is, don’t judge a book by its cover.  That, and Ender’s Game is awesome!

Anthony

   (When we last left Fred he had been offered a job by John Smith, head of M007 and then dropped off in front of the hotel he had been kidnapped from)

   Fred walked into the hotel, taking care to let the doors slide open, and saw that there was a new desk attendant.  This one looked just as nice, and Fred hoped he wouldn’t get killed like the other one had.
   Fred went up to the desk. “Is there a Jonathan Toque here?” he asked.
   The attendant looked at a computer screen and nodded. “Yes, sir.” He took another look at Fred. “Are you Fred?”
   Fred nodded.
   The attendant smiled and gave him a keycard. “Jonathan said you would be coming and to give you your key.  Room 117, second floor.”
   Fred took the key. “Thanks.”
   He was feeling energetic, so he decided to take the stairs.  He bound up them three at a time, but the top was his downfall.  Literally.  His last leap was a little too long and he lost his balance, tumbling back down to the bottom.
   “By Jove!  Are you all right?”
   The owner of the voice pulled Fred to his feet and brushed him off a bit.  Fred reeled around for a second, then got his bearings enough to see who had helped him.  It was a young man, barely in his twenties, with light brown hair and green eyes.  He was wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops. 
   Fred swayed slightly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
   “Oh, an American,” the young man smiled and held out his hand. “I’m Anthony.”
   Fred shook his hand. “Fred.”
   “Well come on, Fred,” Anthony took him by the arm and began to help him up the stairs. “Let’s make sure you don’t have any more mishaps on the way, shall we?”
   Fred gave a hollow laugh. “Mishaps are the least of my worries.”
   “Oh?  Why’s that?”
   Fred ticked the reasons off his fingers as they climbed. “In the past twenty-four hours I’ve been ambushed, shot at, kidnapped, and thrown to alligators.  Falling down stairs is the low note of my day so far.”
   “By Jove!  What have you gotten yourself into?”
   “Hey, they started it by stealing my peanuts.”
   Anthony looked at him with a mixture of surprise and horror. “Not the PEANUT terrorists?”
   Fred nodded. “Them, and The Terrorists, apparently.”
   Anthony looked puzzled. “What’s the difference?”
   “Capitalization and italicization.”
   Anthony nodded. “Ah.”
   By now they had reached room 117.  Fred pointed to it.
   “Here’s my stop,” he said.
   Anthony grinned. “Really?  I’m surprised we made it.”
   Fred adopted a hurt look. “Hey.  I’m not that clumsy.”
   Anthony laughed. “I’m sure you aren’t.  But I am.” 
   As if to make his point, he stumbled.  As he fell, he grabbed Fred’s arm, dragging him down too.  Anthony hopped back to his feet with practiced ease and helped Fred up.
   “Sorry about that,” he said.
   “No problem.  Nice to know I’m not the only one.”
   “Yes.” Anthony nodded.  “Well, nice meeting you, and I do hope you get everything sorted out.”
   Then he waved and went back to the stairway, tripping over his own feet as he did.  Fred chuckled as he tried to slip his keycard into the door.  He missed several times before he got it in, which succeeded in taking the smile off his face.
   When he finally did get in, he found Jonathan sitting in one of the chairs.
   “Ah,” the man said. “I thought I heard you out there.”
   Fred stared at him. “That’s it?  I was just kidnapped and that’s all you have to say?”
   Jonathan watched him calmly. “Yes, Fred.  That’s all I have to say.”
   Fred glared at him.
   “If you’re going to be dealing with terrorists, you’ll have to get used to this.”
   “They could have killed me!” Fred protested.
   “So why are you alive?”
   “An alligator saved me.”
   “Ah.  So The Terrorists got you, eh?  No doubt you were saved by M007?  They had Alexander    undercover in the alligator tank, right?”
   Fred stared at him. “How do you know all that?”
   Jonathan smiled. “Brace yourself.”
   Fred was about to ask why, when the room exploded.

   To be continued….

Car Ride

   I’m walking down the street.  A black, shiny car pulls up beside me.  Bad sign.  I pull my gun out.  Fire at will.  Bullet proof windows.  Darn.  The door opens.  The interior is ominously dark.  The voice that speaks is ominously deep.
   “I’ll overlook the cost of new windows if you get in here right now.”
   “No,” I answer.
   The front window rolls down.  A long, threatening muzzle protrudes.  I quickly change my mind.  I climb in.  The door shut behind me.  It’s black as pitch.  There’s a flare of light as the man beside me lights a cigar.  Then the match is gone.  The only light comes from the burning ember on the end of the cigar. 
   “What do you want with me?” I ask.
   The ember flares.  The stench of the cigar fills the air.  I’ve smelled worse.  Wait, no I haven’t.
   “I got a job for you,” says the man with the ominously deep voice.
   I stifle a cough. “Send whoever it is a box of those cigars and you won’t need me.”
   The ember flares again. The car fills with more fumes.
   “You’re not in the position to make jokes.”
   This time I do cough. “Keep smoking those things and neither will you.”
   There’s a click.  Cold metal presses against my head.
   “You got a death wish?”
   I grab the gun and pull the trigger.  An empty click.
   “Yeah.”
    The gun is removed from my head.  “You think you’re tough?”
   “Tougher than your cigars.”
   The man growls. “Forget the cigars.”
   “How can I if you keep choking me with the smoke?”
   The ember shoots downward and is ground out.  We are again in pitch blackness.
   “Happy?”
   “Yeah.”
   A match flares.  A few puffs.  The match goes out.  The ember is back.
   “Then let’s get to business.”
   I shoot the ember.
   “Okay.”
   There is a pause.  Then another match, a few more puffs, and the ember is back.  Again.
   I shoot it again.  A futile click.  Empty.  I reload.  I shoot again.  The ember doesn’t move.  I never miss.  I shoot again. The ember remains. 
   The man chuckles. “This one’s bullet proof.”
   “They make them that way?”
   “You order it, they make it.”
   I shrug, pull out my switchblade, and chop the ember off.  It lands on the man’s lap.  Sizzle.  Yelp.  Then it’s gone.  But the cold metal is back to my head.
   “This time it isn’t empty.”
   I bring my blade up till it hits flesh and stop. “Neither is this.”
   There is a pause.  A laugh.  The metal is removed.  I lower my knife.  A flare.  The ember returns.  I slash it.  My knife breaks.
   “Knife proof too?”
   The man chuckles.
   I grab the cigar.  Snuff it out.  Throw it back at him.  Flare.  Ember.  I fire into the darkness below the ember. 
   “Ow.”
   The door opens.  I’m ejected.  Something is thrown after me.  It hits my head.  The door slams.  The car roars away.  I look for what hit me.  It’s a cigar.  It’s lit.  I take a puff.  Choke.  Throw it away.  Continue my walk.

M007

   (When we last left Fred, he had escaped and was gaping at John Smith, the head of M007)

   But Fred only gaped for a little.  He skillfully turned his astonished gape into a scornful laugh.
   “John Smith?” he asked. “Is that the best alias you could come up with?  And M007?” he laughed again.
   John smiled wanly. “My real name is actually John Smith.  Nobody believes me when I first tell them.  I cannot imagine what my parents were thinking.”
   Fred stopped mid-laugh. “Wait, so your name really is John Smith?”
   John sighed. “Yes.  I did just say that, didn’t I?”
   “Yeah, but, I mean, M007?  What’s that supposed to be?”
   “I suppose you could call it a British intelligence agency.”
   “Suppose?” Fred raised an eyebrow. “It isn’t?”
   “Oh no, it is,” John assured him. “It’s simply one that no one knows exists.  Not even the government.”
   “Then who established it?”
   “I’m afraid I’m not authorized to disclose that.”
   “I thought you were head of this super secret agency.  How can you not have authority?”
   “I simply don’t.”
   “Fine.  I’ll ask Alexander then.”
   John laughed. “Alexander may be able to do a lot of things, but he can’t talk.”
   Fred poked a finger at him. “That’s what you think.”
   “That’s what I know.”
   Fred adopted a superior look and didn’t reply.
   John sighed again. “Fred, if you even want to hope to secure this job, you’re going to have to cooperate, just a little bit.”
   “Okay,” Fred held up a finger. “On one condition.”
   “Which is?”
   “I get to keep Alexander.  You are authorized to negotiate, right?”
   John nodded once. “Yes I am.  And I might be able to find a way to let you have Alexander.”
   Fred grinned and leaned back. “Great!  What do you need me to do?”
   “We need you to keep an eye on Jonathan Toque for us.”
   Fred sat up straight at that. “What?  No way!  That’s what they wanted me to do.”
   “They?”
   “The guys who kidnapped me back there.”
   “Ah,” John nodded. “The Terrorists.”
   Fred rolled his eyes. “Duh.  Of course they were terrorists.”
   “No no,” John shook his head. “Not just terrorists. The Terrorists.  Italicatized and capitalized.”
   “The Terrorists?  Who are they?”
   “The ones who just kidnapped you.”
   “Well I got that part.  I meant, who are they besides that?”
   “Ah.  They are the ones you never hear about.  The ones who are always in the shadow of the PEANUT terrorists.  Apparently they aren’t happy about that anymore, if they ever were.”
   Fred to a moment to assimilate the information before proceeding. “Okay, so, why are you all so interested in Jonathan?”
   “Because he’s an interesting man,” John said, enigmatically.
   “Don’t be enigmatic,” Fred retorted. “Give it to me straight.”
   “I’m afraid I can’t.”
   “Oh yeah?  Why not?”
   “It’s classified.”
   “Oh darn it all.  Am I gonna have to learn everything from Alexander?  Maybe I should just ride in the trunk with him.”
   John grinned. “That could be arranged.”
   Fred glared at him. “I was joking.”
   “I wasn’t.”
   Fred glared harder and didn’t say anything.
   The car pulled to a stop.  Fred looked out the window and saw that they were in front of the hotel he had been kidnapped from.
   “Jonathan took a room here even though the attendant was killed,” John said. “He’s got courage.  Now of course we can’t force you to help us, Fred, but it would be better for everyone if you did.”
   “Do I get Alexander?”
   “Not until after you’ve helped us.”
   Fred frowned and got out of the car.  As he was about to shut the door, John stuck a car out.
   “Take this,” he said. “In case you want to call me.”
   Then he shut the door and the car sped away.
   Fred looked down at the card.  It read “007-DONT-ASK”.

   To be continued…