After Dinner

The dirty dishes loom large over the quiet and kitchen. Gertrude and Parish prepare to get to work, grateful for one another's company as they ponder the questions on their mind. Perhaps others will join them soon...

Rag-and-Bones enters the kitchen, chuckling softly. He'd snuck right into the bed & breakfast in his cunning disguise, easy as pie! Nobody knew that he was Yazeba's arch-nemesis, destined to destroy the world!

His disguise? He was wearing a...skeleton costume over his actual skeletal body. The costume's filling was cotton, enclosed in a plastic shell, and thicker than it should've been; it made him look...not muscular, since he had no muscles, but like he'd been chugging milk non-stop to develop incredibly large bones.

And it was hot wearing this disguise. No, he didn't sweat, but his marrow felt "wacky" if he exerted himself too much.

He stops when he notices Parish and Gertrude. His beady (fake) eyes scrutinize them coldly, along with the towering stack of dirty dishes.

"Don't you all have slaves...I mean servants...to handle this mess? And how many dishes are there?!"

He disdainfully pokes a stack of gooey plates with a doubly-bony finger. The stack wobbles to the left...then the right...then a plate slides off and falls to the floor, breaking into a dozen pieces.

The skeleton glares at the shards as if they had somehow harmed him.

"Ah, no great loss. I'm sure they were cheap anyway. And destruction is necessary; you can't create without first destroying something. Even a painter ruins a blank canvas when he begins a masterpiece. And...uh...anyway...."

"My name's Cal Cium. Call me Cal."

Parish looks over at "Cal" and then back to Gertrude. "Well it was.' He murmurs then turns back to the skeleton. "We all help out here, Mr Cium. Many hands make light work after all." Parish looks the skeleton up and down. "Did you not find dinner to your liking? Looks like you could use some meat on those bones."

Cal tries to hide his disgust at Parish's suggestion to help clean. Such mundane, dirty tasks were for peasants, not people of his stature!

Then Amelie and Gertrude rush around to clean up his mess, and he smiles. So helpful, selfless, and apparently naive! They'd make excellent minions!

(He currently only has one minion, a rat named Ratto. The rat is burrowed into his skeleton suit around his right hip, hopefully sleeping, or at least lazing. If Ratto hopped out of his hiding spot and made a ruckus while Yazeba was around, the witch would know his true identity in an instant!)

"Oh, you all are so...useful. Alas, I would aid you, but my...uh...arm bones are a bit creaky."

He raises his right arm and makes a (he hopes) surreptitious creaking noise with his teeth, but this shouldn't fool anyone.

"And you know, I've had this problem for some time, but I've heard that Yazeba's spellbook has all sorts of fantastic spells. Perhaps one of you can direct me to it? Or better yet, retrieve it for me? No need to bother Yazeba; I'm sure she has enough on her plate running this bed and breakfast. And I'm certain her spellbook has something to heal me!"

Cal glares at this robot (?) and shakes his head so hard he actually does creak, totally for real this time.

"WD-41? Now, I'm not familiar with this, but I am familiar with WD-40. And that's not supposed to be used on living creatures! It's to help with rust, to loosen up metal things, to lubricate, and so on. I may be a skeleton (a bigger skeleton, don't judge me), but I'm still alive!"

"Plus, you say it's not available in stores, which is very suspicious. If it's so great, why can't the public purchase it? I bet it's harmful, perhaps even fatal! I have a mind to contact the EPA, the FBI, OSHA, DARPA, maybe even NIAMS!"

In his agitation, he flails his arms around...and again knocks over dishes. This time, it's not just one, but an entire stack. At least ten plates smash onto the kitchen floor, scattering shards everywhere.Again he looks at the pieces as if they were at fault, but then realizes he should tone down his outrage. Breaking a single plate was one thing; breaking ten was quite another. He didn't want to completely alienate these folks; after all, he still needs minions.

"I am..."

Five seconds pass. Then ten. Then fifteen. This was harder than anticipated.

"...sorry for the mess."

He doesn't offer to clean up, though, maintaining some of his elitism.

It's clear Cal has thoroughly irritated the group. But is he going to back down? He is not.

"Hypocrisy! I thought this was supposed to be an accepting group, yet you cruelly ostracize me over a few broken plates! And that's after trying to poison me with this black market WD-41 substance!"

"I'll show you all! Nobody insults Ra...Cal Cium!"

He grabs the bottle of dishwashing liquid (Dawn Ultra? Or does Yazeba keep some weak off-brand stuff?) and rushes out of the kitchen!

"Let's see you all clean those dishes now! You'll never get that grease off without soap!"

Too late, he considers the possibility that there's another bottle in the cupboard, or wherever. Or that resourceful folks could find a way to still clean. Or that the sink was possibly sudsy enough, and no more dishwashing liquid was needed.

Details! He was still a daring, dangerous thief who'd cunningly derailed the group's efforts. He clomps down the hallway, holding the bottle tightly under his arm like it's as valuable as a diamond.

Amelie replies, "We do not have to. The B&B is amply stocked." The robo-maid steps over to the supply cabinet and produces a new bottle of premium brand dish soap.

Parish shrugs his shoulders. "If I'm right, I know exactly who that strange skeleton man is and he very much has no idea what is going on at any time." Parish sighs. He really does throw all of us into sharp relief though, doesn't he? All of us here helping because its the right thing to do or because it needs to be done, or even just to help out others. That's what really keeps a place like this running. That;s what's being a found family is all about." Parish smiles at them all. "How many dishes are left?"

Cackling, Cal skids to a stop and looks behind him, eager to see his foes in hot pursuit. But the hallway is empty and silent.

Damn! He was hoping to prove his superiority by outsmarting them during a chase, but they weren't cooperating! They'd probably already found a new bottle of dishwashing liquid, and were laughing at his pointless theft!

"Insignificant buffoons! You think you've got one up on me, but you're sorely mistaken!"

He tosses the bottle aside, and it thunks against the baseboard before rolling to a stop. Thankfully, the plastic doesn't rupture, so nobody has to clean up yet another of his messes.

He then reaches into his costume, grabbing for Ratto. He pokes around in the wrong spot for a few seconds before remembering where his rat minion is located. Finally he pulls her out and holds her in his bone-hand. The rat had been sleeping, per his instructions, and now blinks at him and yawns, wondering why his plans had suddenly changed.

"OK, Ratto, my faithful minion, new mission for you: reconnaissance!"

"Rats!"

This is the only word Ratto utters, but Rag-and-Bones believes he can divine different meanings based on her intonation and body language. In most cases, he's deluding himself.

"Don't give me any backtalk! We must be flexible in the face of adversity!"

"R A T S!"

"Enough! As I said, I need you for reconnaissance. Walk down to the kitchen and eavesdrop on those imbeciles who are cleaning dishes like ignorant peons. It's down the hall, second door on the left. Someone is sure to mention something about Yazeba and her spellbook!"

"ℝ𝕒𝕥𝕤!"

"And do not allow yourself to be seen! We must maintain this Cal Cium disguise!"

"Ⓡⓐⓣⓢ!"

"Oh fooey!"

Though Ratto apparently has reservations, she does as commanded, and skitters down the hallway. But either she didn't understand all of Cal's instructions, or chose to deliberately ignore them, because she abandons all stealthiness. Instead, she walks right into the kitchen and stares up at the cleaning crew.

​"🇷​​🇦​​🇹​​🇸​!"

It comes across as welcoming.

"I must say that over the years, I have found many ways to pitch in here. Night guard, life guard. Lots of guarding really until I tried my hand at cooking. Just keep doings until you find something that feels right. That becomes your job. How many dishes are left?" Parish asks.

"A maid’s work is never done. So why ask if I should get a real job? Because my job is not ‘real’ in the sense it is not humanly possible.

"Therefore, one might interpret a real job as one that is real in the human sense. Ideal work conditions for a human would include a work-life balance. I could fit Rodent Fondness into my life and tea parties with Hey Kid IV.

"So should I get a real job?" Amelie thinks a moment. "I should not. I am programmed to toil endlessly. Therefore, I choose to do what I should not. In moderation." They pet the rat once more and get back to work.

Since Rag-and-Bones/Cal is absent from this scene, Ratto will answer this question...in her head. A real job? Here? In the sanctuary of her master's nemesis? Inconceivable!

Ratto already has a job, anyway: #1 Minion. She (mostly) likes her position, and she doesn't question Rag's determination to bring about the apocalypse. There was anti-rat sentiment everywhere; before she met Rag-and-Bones, Ratto had nearly been exterminated several times by pest control technicians. Maybe things would be better for rodents after the slate was wiped clean, and the world was rebuilt anew.

That being said, Rag could be an insufferable megalomaniac, and his planning sometimes left a lot to be desired.

(This being thought by the rat who just waltzed right into the kitchen, possibly blowing Cal's cover...but I digress.)

She also wished he could be more generous and loving...so when Amelie calls her "beautiful" and "family," something stirs within her tiny rat-brain.

"Rats!"

The closest translation of this would be "Thank you!"

Feeling happy and full of camaraderie, the rat swiftly crawls onto the kitchen counter...then dives into the soapy sink! She bursts to the surface after a beat, a fork in her hand. Floating on her back, she cleans the fork as best she can with teeth, hands/feet, and tail, then tosses it into the adjacent sink to be rinsed and dried.

No, she's not betraying Rag-and-Bones by helping everyone clean! She can still eavesdrop, maybe trick someone into spilling the beans with a persuasive "Rats!" In fact, by helping clean, she's lulling them into a false sense of security. They'll have no idea an enemy spy is in their midst!

(At least, that's what she tells herself....)

Parish chuckles despite himself at Ratto's antics. "That's the spirit, Ratto. Many hands make light work and all that." Parish looks down into the soapy dish water and spies the iron cauldron that Yazeba's insists he uses for soup. Steeling himself he seizes the cauldron, flexes his froggy muscles and heaves it up to give it a good scrubbing. Unfortunately, it almost immediately slips out of his soapy hands and slams back into the sink. Water splashes everywhere and there is a disturbing sound of breaking glass and stoneware.

Parish peers sheepishly at the carnage he has wrought. "Oh dear. How many dishes do you think are left?" He asks starting to the asses the damage.

Parish grabs a pair of tongs and starts fishing out shards of glass and cracked plates. "I suppose this could be seen as a sign." He muses to himself. "Trying to do more does not always lead things being better. I should just keep at it. After all no has asked me to do more."

"Though something new to do might be nice." He murmurs out loud.

Ratto doesn't realize she has a designated lifeguard...but she can sense Amelie's "aura of helpfulness," or whatever term you want to use. Actually, the minion would be (mildly) offended if she knew Amelie was hovering over her, because every self-respecting rat is an excellent swimmer!

She continues cleaning cutlery, since other items are too large for her to handle, while occasionally letting out a satisfied "Rats!"

Meanwhile, Rag-and-Bones lurks, and he shall answer this (to him) absurd question.

Keep this place afloat? Seriously?! He wants nothing more than to reduce this B&B to ashes. If he could get that cold-hearted witch Yazeba to shed even a single tear, it'd be worth it.

But not before he retrieved her spellbook, of course. Destroying this place before accomplishing that would foil his long-term plans. He didn't know any other spellcasters who'd learned and transcribed the Apocalypse Incantation.

Anyway, he's now angry (and yes, a bit worried) that Ratto hasn't returned from her recon. Had she been taken prisoner by those fiends? Or even killed? Rats were misunderstood creatures, always on the chopping block!

He creeps down the hallway, and slowly peers into the kitchen. Super stealthy. Nobody would ever notice him. (Delusion alert.)

At first, he can't see Ratto, because his minion is still frolicking in the suds. But then the rat climbs up onto the counter to dump more cutlery into the sink.

Was she...helping clean?!

Betrayal! Cruelty! Foulness! The laughing, trickster fates were again out to ruin him!

He rushes down the hall, now creaking like a tree bent by a hurricane. Maybe he could use that WD-41, but his mind is on other things.How could he get his revenge on all of them at once? He couldn't fight them solo, even without his bulky costume. Maybe collapse the ceiling on them...?

No, he had an even better idea: poison the water supply! That would stop their dish-cleaning (and their lives) for good!

Now he just needs to find some lethal poison, and figure out the plumbing. Is it standard stuff, with pipes, a water heater, and a buried line connected to some water distribution source?

No, it couldn't be that easy. This place was magical, built and controlled by Yazeba. It probably had a convoluted system that pumped water from the aether or somewhere....

It didn't matter! He'd figure it all out, and get his revenge!

As our erstwhile dishwashers take stock of the kitchen, they realize that the towering mountains of dirty plates that had once seemed insurmountable have now dwindled to mere foothills. Their toil is almost at an end...

Parish plucks out the last pan, dries it off and stares at it for a long moment. In the gleam of the metal, he remembers how the sun would shine off freshly polished armor and almost hear the impatient snort of horses ready to away to adventure and where the road may take them. Parish sighs and puts away the pan on the drying rack. "How many dishes left? That was the last, yes?

Yes, Parish. That was the last dish! You look at the empty sinks and feel a sense of satisfaction. But there is still one Big Question nagging at you...

"Where am I supposed to fit in?"

Rag-and-Bones is off somewhere, scheming, pouting, and skulking. It doesn't appear that he'll enact his dastardly water-poisoning plan, as the cleaning crew is now wrapping up.

Ratto will answer this question, with a confused "Rats!"

She likes Amelie's concern and gentleness...but still feels loyalty to Rag-and-Bones. The ol' skeleton was tough, sure, but sometimes you needed toughness. It was a cruel world, after all. But to be tough and callous all the time? Hmm.

Could she still be Rag's minion, while also helping these people? It didn't seem possible; it appeared Rag had already determined that they were enemies. Like Yazeba, the "heartless witch" he was always bellowing about.

So Ratto doesn't have a clear-cut answer to this question. She'll just keep meandering along, and hope everything works out. Not the most assertive plan, but she is a minion, and not used to coming up with complicated, paradigm-shifting plans.

"I thought I had found my place to fit in." Parish muses. "I traded armor for rubber gloves, my sword for a cooking pot, and cared for my people with meals instead of grand quests." Parish sighs. "But I am still a knight and I yearn for bigger things." Parish scratched at a gray spot on his hand and frowned when he realized in wasn't a stain but simply how his hands look now.

And so, each person in the kitchen felt a little more confident in their place in this world!

Of course, we mustn't forget about Rag-and-Bones! His first foray had been foiled, but I get the feeling we haven't seen the last of him around the B&B!