macblaze.ca

11:18

“If you are going to serve me a drink couldn’t you at least make it a gin and tonic? Or a half decent whiskey.”

“Who the hell drinks a mojito!”

” Ah, old…friend. Don’t blow a bunny gasket. I thought you’ appreciate something soothing and relaxing after your long stressful wait. How was It know what you’d like to drink?” The beaver blinked his long black lashes at the outraged rabbit and continued. “Still, I suppose we could rustle up something you find more appropriate.”

Edward sputtered a little and began to retort. But barely an incoherent syllable had escaped his pink lips when he finally realized the bloody beaver was baiting him again. That stupid, impossible, oh-so annoying rodent seemed to have a knack for obfuscation through exasperation. He settled his weight back on his haunches and pointedly relaxed.

“My dear beaver,” he started again, “I am delight to see you well and in fine mettle. Shall I assume you think you have taken care of the more violent aspects of our situation and once again feel safe in your nubbly little black heart.”

The beaver quirked a slightly irritated smile and leaned toward the bunny with the new-fund attitude. But before he could snap off a retort the rabbit continued. “You are not you know. Safe I mean. You have done nothing to effectively secure the situation and more unforgivably you have gathered these people here as both unasked-for witnesses and fellow goats in your, once again, labyrinthine and tortuous plot.”

“Really, you should know better by now.” Edward seemed to swell, stood and moved across the living room with all eyes following him.

“If you have learned anything from our past… ‘encounters’ you should have at least learned that complications are to be avoided and that simplicity has its own rewards.” As Edward finished speaking he leaped suddenly to the side, moving towards the beaver while trying to ensure that no one could get between them. He was both surprised an not a little indignant when his leap ended suddenly, face first in a large fuchsia pillow with gold tassels.

Recovering, he turned his face towards the young woman wielding the offensive accessory and grimaced. “I see you’ve bought in to whatever sad tale this perfidious panderer has has been peddling. assure you young lady that your involvement is neither necessary nor requested and I would appreciate if you would move your obnoxious attempt at style from my path.”

Rowan stared back.

Edward sighed and swivelled his head back to the even-more-smug beaver who hadn’t moved at all during the preceding events. But, having lost his momentum, this time when he opened his mouth to speak, the beaver cut him off.”

“Silly rabbit; tricks are for kids…”

11:15

Edward couldn’t quite remember a time when he had been more astonished. There had been that affair with the Polynesians cannibals in the Egyptian ruins — well they hadn’t technically been cannibals, but they had tried to eat him — but he had already begun to suspect their presence before the unfortunate cookpot episode. ANd of course there was the time he had walked in on the peculiar mating rituals of the so-call Llama gods; that had been perhaps a bit less astonishing and a bit more disturbing, but nonetheless.

Still the sight of the beaver wrapped up in what looked suspiciously like a silk smoking jacket, sipping what could only be a martini and smirking pompously at him from a makeshift throne of cushions and blankets, could only be accurately described as astonishing.

Edward sat uncomfortably at the base of his “lordship’s” altar and looked around the room for the fifth time. It, in as much as Edward’s research had revealed, seemed that all the players of this little farce had gathered. He shook his ears vigorously with an audibly thwop and, for just a moment, imagined he saw that ridiculous beaver take a long suck from an equally ridiculous pipe. But as he quickly glanced back, the beaver’s hands held only what was most definitely a martini.

Seeing that he had Edwards attention, the beaver’s smirk broke into an open grin and he delicately drew the impaled olive out of his drink and plucked the briny fruit off the toothpick with his gleaming incisors and then downed the rest of the drink.

“Welcome old… friend.”