It had been two weeks since the
council had given James approval to write his heroes. Since then, he had slept only occasionally and showered even
less. Cheshire watched James’
stubble turn into a small fluffy beard, and viewed the plethora of cartons
containing Chinese takeout, which had been consumed along with enough coffee
that he was fairly sure James would never sleep again, grow from a pile into a
mountain. Cheshire had peered over the man’s shoulder for days, eyeing the
speedily written pages, watching for any essential details he may have been
left out.
From
what Cheshire had been able to read, he had noted that James’s writing style
differed greatly from the last author that had been selected. James didn’t seem to care about the
personalities of the heroes, instead he wrote his heroes for their
abilities. Cheshire had asked once
about the lack of personality that James was penning, but James had merely
shrugged him off and muttered something about priorities, coffee and another
serving of orange chicken.
Cheshire did not
comment on it further, after all it wasn’t his job to make sure that the heroes
would have pleasant dispositions.
No, he was there to ensure James didn’t write something about an alien
invasion or about the destruction of the White House at the hands of mad
penguins. He watched as the man
continued to furiously scribble.
“Bored now,” he
thought as he curled up and did what cats do when they tire of humans, he fell
asleep.
James
was energetically writing, his hands veritably flying across the page leaving a
long trail of ink. Suddenly he
stopped, stared at the page with an expression of joy, like he had just gotten
the most amazing birthday gift on the planet, and jumped out of his seat.
Had he had
anything to drink in the last hour he probably would have given a little shout
of glee, but the first time he tried any type of announcement it came out as a
dry wheeze. Instead he stood,
holding the pages above his head, and jumping. He finally cleared his throat enough to blow out, “It’s
finished!”
Cheshire twitched
and opened his eyes languidly, “You finished? Good for bloody you, it’s three in the morning. Now if you will wait about five more
hours you can repeat your little dance for the council.”
James squeaked,
“It’s finished!” and then fell face first on the floor and began snoring.
Cheshire looked at
James the newly written manuscript outstretched in his arms above his head as
he lay snoring on the floor, “Absolutely disgusting.”
James
awoke several hours later, a trail of drool coming from his mouth leading to
the floor.
“Get up, come on
now.”
A cup of coffee
sat in front of James and the manuscript sat neatly in a stack on the end of
the writing desk.
“Drink the coffee,
take a shower, shave for the love of heaven, you are beginning to look like the
March Hare.”
James rolled over,
“I-I finished.”
“So
you squeaked last night.”
“Don’t
we need to bring my manuscript before the council?”
“If
the council smells you as you presently are, many of them will keel over into
death’s icy grip. Go, shower, make yourself presentable. Most of the council doesn’t get up
before ten in the morning anyways.”
James took a sip
of the coffee and winced. Cheshire chuckled, “That’s right my little princess,
some straight black coffee is going to be a little bracing after all the sugar
and creams with a hint of coffee you consumed while you wrote. Now come on, get
up.”
“How
did you manage to brew coffee, I mean…”
Cheshire’s
condescending voice growled out, “Even those who lack your, oh so lauded,
opposable thumbs can push buttons. Now get moving, you don’t want to make me
miss my afternoon nap, it would be very unpleasant for you.”
Wesley
sat down carefully in his chair, careful to not bump his new hip on the podium. After his joints had ceased their
cracking he addressed the disheveled man who was literally vibrating in front
of him.
“You finished the
manuscript?”
“Yep!” Wesley and the rest of the council
jumped at the emphatic nature of the statement. Wesley shook his head a little, “So will you please tell the
council under what circumstances we can look for our heroes?”
“Absolutely!”
James suddenly realized that his exuberance may not have been as contagious as
he had originally thought, his tone and volume decreased as he plowed rapidly,
and definitely more anxiously, on, “R-right, the one with the necessary
knowledge will be coming in as an English professor at Sunny Springs College, I
thought it would be an appropriate place for the one with the knowledge we
need. He or she will be the first
one to apply for the job opening.
The other will be moving; looking for an apartment not far from the
college, he or she will be trying to find a job at the local hardware store
first, but will eventually get a job at SSC as the assistant librarian.”
“The
local hardware store?”
“Yeah…
well I looked it up in the classifieds and it was the first place that had an
opening…”
“Alright,
we will send Cheshire to watch for them and make sure that their jobs are open
for their arrival.”
“Alrighty
then, w-we’re all set!”
“Mr.
James, are you quite alright?”
“I
am fantastic!”
The Cheshire Cat
jumped up on the podium, “No, he’s not.
I left him alone for five minutes and he managed to down five cups of
Turkish coffee. He will eventually
be fine when he is no longer the human rendition of a percolator. Luckily, he wrote them coming and
staying in the same hotel for a few days, so it shouldn’t be too terribly hard
to get them together to explain things.
They should be here within two days according to his timeline.”
Cheshire looked
over at James who was now literally wiggling where he stood, “He really was
quite competent before he went on his caffeine binge.”
Everyone looked
over at James who was now frantically straightening his sweater-vest oblivious
to the world around him. The
Cheshire Cat sighed and said, “If you will alert the others, I will go baby sit
him, but by the Queen of Hearts’ crochet mallet he is not allowed any more
caffeine, ever.”
