The Weapon - Lex - part 8
By Diana the Valkyrie
I really am very sorry
Update: 23/10/2003 to valkyrie05


"I really am very sorry," I said, for the fourteenth time, or words to that
effect. "It's nothing, don't worry about it," she replied for the fourteenth
time, or words to that effect, "it won't stain, really it won't." "I can't
believe I did that." "Again," she reminded me. "No, I missed you the other
time," I replied. "Only just," she pointed out. "I really am very sorry," I
said, for the fifteenth time.

"You were fine until you looked down," she said, "maybe that's the answer?

Monkey no see, monkey no ralph? "What are you planning?" "Do you trust me,
Herbie?"

"Uh. What do you mean?" "Exactly that. Simple question, and one you've already
answered.

Do you trust me? "Uh. Yes. Of course I do." "OK," she said, "lights out."

The world went black. It was like someone just switched out all the lights, it
was an inky, velvety black. "Hey, I'm blind!" "No you aren't, Herbie, I just
stopped you seeing." "How?" "You want a physics lesson?" "Uh, no thanks."
"Come on then, let's fly."

I could feel the acceleration as she rose into the sky, I could feel the wind
on my face. I felt the moisture as we flew through a cloud, or that's what I
guessed. "Yes," she said, "Cumulo-nimbus." She held me close as we soared like
an eagle, or at least that's what I guessed we were doing. Then we landed, and
I could see again. We were back home. Frank came over and sniffed at my
trousers. "Basket, Frank" I said, and he ignored me. Wendy tossed him a
biscuit, and he went back to his basket to gnaw on it.

"OK," she said, "we're all set. That's the answer, I'll just blind you while
we're flying. You collect whatever documents you need and pack a bag, I'll
come and collect you nice and early tomorrow." She was gone before I could
argue.

I opened a tin for Frank, and rushed out to get some shopping. Travel sickness
pills were high on the list, then sunblock, and sunburn cream in case the
sunblock didn't work, and a first aid kit in case something dreadful happened,
and some tins of sardines in case it was difficult to get food, and some
dollars, and a new toothbrush, and ... well, you get the idea. Everything you
need when you're going to a foreign country.

I spent the evening packing, I managed to get it all in two large suitcases,
plus a smaller travel bag. I didn't worry about the weight limit, since I
wasn't travelling on an airplane. Then I called up a kennel, to get Frank
sorted out - he hates kennels, but I can't leave him in the house, and taking
him with is out of the question. He lay in his basket staring at me
reproachfully. He's seen me packing before, he knew there was something up. I
was done round about 2am, and I flumped into bed exhausted. Exhausted, but
excited, I was flying to California tomorrow! And, as I drifted off to sleep,
I remembered what she'd said to me. "I'm your friend, Herbert."

. . .

I was woken the next morning by a military brass band playing a Sousa march
very loudly. It was coming from downstairs. When I went down to investigate,
the sound was coming from my kitchen. And on further checking, it was, of
course, Wendy. When she saw me, she stopped, and grinned. "Stars and Strips
Forever," she said, "get some forks on the table, breakfast is nearly ready."
"How do you do a brass band," I asked. "Hey. It's just sound, you know, not
exactly difficult. Even your mobile can do that."

After breakfast, I showed her my luggage. At least one eyebrow went up. "You
forgot the kitchen sink," she said. "No, I have a small portable folding one.
And on the way, we have to drop Frank off at the kennels." When he heard the
words "Frank" and "kennels", he crawled out from his basket, belly on the
floor, tail down, ears flattened and he whined, while looking very
lugubriously at Wendy. She knelt down and scratched behind his ears. "You
know, I don't think he likes that idea." "It isn't up to him. I've got no-one
I can leave him with, and he can't stay here alone." "Why not?"

I stared at her, I guess she's never had a dog. I counted off on my fingers,

"One, he can't open tins of dog food, two, he needs a bit of exercise, three,
the house will be full of doggie-do, four, he'll be bored and start chewing
the furniture, five, the RSPCA will be called, I'll be jailed and quite right
too. OK?" "I'll feed him," she said, "and deal with all the other stuff."

"No," I said, "you don't understand. The problem isn't now, or when we get
back, it's the week or so that we'll be in California." "Yes, I know that.
I'll feed him." "Wendy, we'll be ten thousand miles away." "I'll pop back."

"Pop?" "Yes, you know, just for half an hour or so, enough to feed him, take
him for a walk, let him do his doggie-do in the right place. It won't take
long." "It won't take long to look after Frank, but we'll be ten thousand
miles away." "Yes, I'll pop back."

Suddenly I realised what she was saying. "Pop? How long will it take you to go
from San Andreas to here?" "Oh, not long. Half a second in an emergency, but
this won't be an emergency, so I'll probably take up to a minute." "Uh." "The
problem is, Herb, you've let him get too dependent on you. A dog should be
able to look after himself." "Uh. No, that's cats." "No, cats have just
resisted the temptation to let themselves get dependent on you. Dogs should
... oh, never mind, come on, we have a journey to make."