Chapter 17 - And... Action!

As soon as Christuliet (or whatever her real name is) had logged off, we went into full brainstorm mode. I was tasked with involving the landlord guy, while Star an Portia would extend our original wellness area idea with something along the Phantom of the opera and Romeo and Juliet themes. I think we need the obligatory balcony at the very least. Star proposed preparing themed skins for the avatars of our prospective victims... ehhrmm couple to be reunited. Waistcoats and figure-hugging white dresses galore, I expect. Let's hope they will not put me in something ghastly. (Rather a Ghilly suit than a frilly suit for me, please)

Looking at the alarm clock next to my bed, which showed it was only just 1:45 after midnight, I decided that it was probably still safe to go and ask Robyn for the contact details of the landlord guy. I am very much interested to hear if Jean-Ettore is his real name.

Knocking on Robyn's door softly (so as not to wake up our parents) she told me to hold on for a moment, while she put away Scarf, the snake. Two minutes and a range of interesting noises later, Robyn opened the door to let me in. Compared to last time the only noticable difference wat that most of the glass and wood shavings were swept into a pile in the corner. Scarf was fixed to one leg of my sister's desk by means of some sort of Gordian knot.

'It'll take her a few minutes to figure it out.' Robyn commented. 'So I would hurry, if you have a long question.'

'I need the details of the landlord of that pub we had our gig, because we are in the process of getting him on a date with his wife in a virtual Taj Mahal dungeon cum welness balcony sort of thing . Do you have them for me?' I asked promptly, while keeping an eye on the slowly untangling snake.

'In short. No, I don't have them. I just walked into the guy when I was on a secret mission and did all the arrangements verbally, on the spot.'

'What secret mission?'

'If I tell you, it isn't a secret anymore. Duh...'
'OK, only if you let me join in the virtual fun. But don't write it in that diary of yours! It is secret! Do we have a deal?'

'OK, deal Sis. Do you wish to spit on it or do you prefer to maintain a certain level of hygiene?'

'I'll pass the spitting for now. Come here and I'll whisper it in your ear.'

-CENSORED WHISPER-

'You wouldn't!'

'Hush! Don't wake our parents. Did I ever lie to you? Metaphorically speaking...'

'That's outrageous. But cool, of course. Let's get back to the original subject, shall we?' As I said this I felt something slippery brush my left shoulder, then my right. 'Ehhrm, Robyn... I guess I ran out of speaking time, didn't I?

'It seems like that. Good night! I've got her by the tail end, so run at your own discretion. Don't forget to send me the link to your Taj Mahal dungeon.'

Lacking the right information for now, I decided that going to bed and solve problems tomorrow might be a good idea.

Next day during lunch break, I saw that Portia was engrossed in an ancient book on baroque balcony constructions. Star wore an impressively baroque figure hugging (moulding, crushing) white dress from her Mother's private collection to get into the spirit of he thing. (Even Marine Biologists can have a romantic side, if you consider shoring up your spinal chord and squeezing softer parts to alternative locations with bits of whalebone to be romantic). She admitted that the average classroom door width did not comply with baroque standards. Apparently, she needed a lot of help from Portia to force the hoops through without losing any of the outer bits. I told them that getting the landlord to join in time might prove to be difficult and that Robyn was going to join in as well. My plan to get to the guy was to skip Geography and just see if he would open the door when I come knocking.

That was then. Now I was sitting in front of a closed door.

After half an hour I cycled back home to fetch the hornhelmpipe.

Back at the pb and taking a little time to get my breath back, I took a mighty lungful of air and blasted the building with the 'killer chord' (so called by my sister after it got her solar system all tangled up, with the sun orbiting a chrunched up bunch of planets at such a speed that it became a yellow blur.

This did seem to have some effect.

A pair of delapidated shutters creaked open overhead and the head of the landlord peeked out.

'Good aftermorning Sir. Are you really called Jean-Ettore?'

'Grunt.'

'We have made arrangements to reunite you with your dearest Christuliet. Tonight.'

'Who's that?'

'Your quantum state wife. Don't know her real name. She provided the Christuliet persona, which appears to be a chance collision between Christine and Juliet. Two doses of stage drama rolled up into one.'

'That sounds just like my Maggie, yeah... My real first name is John. Eddy is my middle name. Used to do cleaning work before I got this Prime Establishment here. It got five stars, if you laid down on your back in the right spot and on a clear night. Didn't know the romantics got her that bad.'

'OK. So can you join us in the virtual world tonight? We did some wholesale redecorating and landscaping, so that she can't hide behind unfinished building business.'

'Good. I'll be there. Thanks.' Said the guy while he appeared to start closing the shutters again, chips of paint raining down and hinges screaming in protest.

'Do you have any preferences for what your avatar should look like?'I yelled up to the half closed shutters. 'I might still be able to persuade the girls to take your wishes into account.' The shutters stopped.

'Nah... I trust you guys. Given my life's choices so far, it will probably be better than anything I'd come up with myself...'

'Great. See you at quarter to seven in front of the Taj Mahal, so that we can lead you to the dungeon. Bye...'

'What Dungeon?... Wait, what? Hey! What Dungeon?!'