It was around midnight that I wrote this, which would be self-evident as you will see.
Disclaimer: I don't own Artemis Fowl. I really think that they should come up with an automatic disclaimer generator. It would make it so much less depressing…
Of Plots and Shots
To the eyes of a stranger passing by Fowl Manor, the enormous estate radiated the subtle composure one would expect from such landmarks. However after half a minute, for it would take at least that long to traverse the entire length of the mansion, the subtle composure would transform into a silent threat. The poor evening jogger would then shiver slightly and dash off from the looming gates within which not even a blade of grass dared to sway out of place.
Inside the Manor, however, things were slightly different…
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"Let's rehearse this again, Foaly," spoke the female elf nervously into her helmet.
"We've been over this seven times, from Frond's sake," replied the centaur, exasperated, "Give it a rest already! He comes in, I turn the lights back on via my computer, we yell Happy Birthday, the end."
"I just wanted it to be perfect, you know," retorted Holly a she tucked an escaping streamer back into place.
"Would you listen to yourself, Holly," teased Foaly, "If I didn't know better, I would say that you sounded like a love struck adolescent."
Holly froze. She could vividly remember what happened when she travelled back in time with Artemis. Her lips tingled and she glared at the centaur on the LCD screen mounted to the wall; he was prancing in a circle while whining in a high-pitched imitation of Holly.
"Oh, Artemis," he sighed dramatically, placing the back of his hand against his forehead, "I just wanted it to be perfect," he crooned and mock-fainted.
The shiny nose of a Neutrino 3000 was immediately aimed at an obscure corner of the room. Of course, one could not see anything there, aside from the white plaster, but Holly knew that there were a dozen cameras set up in this particular room and the one in this insignificant little corner was the latest of Foaly's prized inventions.
"What was that you were saying, Foaly?" Holly asked sweetly, a dangerous smile on her face.
"Nothing," Foaly responded instantly, halting in the middle of his brilliant improvisation of a popular fairy love song, "Nothing about you being infatuated with a Mud Boy, nope, wouldn't dream of it."
Holly undid the safety latch and fired.
Unsurprisingly, all hell became loose.
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Artemis Fowl the Second chewed delicately on a piece of well-done steak. It was his birthday dinner and his parents insisted for the Irish mastermind to "eat what other boys your age would." And thus, Artemis was dragged into a rowdy family restaurant where the only options on the menu were: "rare", "medium rare", and "well". Worst of all, Artemis was forced to wear casual clothing.
He was just beginning to find the satisfaction in stabbing an inanimate object viciously when his mother interrupted.
"How do you like your steak, son?" Angeline prodded gently, sensing the murderous intent emanating from Artemis toward the unfortunate slab of meat.
"Well-done," replied the boy without looking up.
Angeline shared a worried glance with her husband. It was never good when their son switched to automated responses. For one, he was most likely plotting something; Angeline could almost see the calculations racing around in Artemis' head as he internally debated the quickest method to secure the bankruptcy of this restaurant. Another point about Artemis' auto-pilot mode was that his responses were never terribly accurate. Angeline had wished to inquire about whether he was enjoying his steak, but the outer-shell-Artemis catalogued her question as an inquiry regarding the rarity of his steak.
For the future of the restaurant, Angeline willed away the worry in her eyes and tried again:
"Are you enjoying your meal, Arty?" she asked.
Artemis glanced up, this time a smile upon his pale face.
"Why yes, mother," he replied, almost cackling in mirth, "It suits my tastes perfectly."
Angeline gulped and sought assistance from her husband, who was happily devouring his piece of red meat.
"Is something the matter, Angeline my dear/" asked Artemis Fowl Senior.
Angeline stared at him incredulously. Her husband, obviously, did not feel the dark aura surrounding his son. Wait a moment, Angeline mentally backtracked to a minute earlier. Didn't they share a worried glance just then? If her husband was unaware of his son's foul mood, then what had he been worried about? Angeline was thoroughly confused when Butler's low voice interjected:
"There're more holes in that meat than in Swiss cheese," he quietly reprimanded, "Why don't you try eating it instead."
A wave of pure relief swept across Angeline Fowl. Someone understood her! Whatever they were currently paying the saintly bodyguard, Angeline thought, it was far from enough.
Butler mentally cringed as he noticed his employer's eyes staring at him in awe and reverence.
Was it something I said?
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It was very late in the evening when the five Fowls and two Butlers returned to the Manor. Domovoi Butler instantly felt a tingle of uneasiness as he stepped within the compound. After a quick inspection of his surroundings, Butler felt confident that his sixth sense was merely giving off the remnants of Angeline Fowl's Creepy-Relief Stare (Butler felt it absolutely essential to give names to all his enemies, tangible or not). Artemis looked at Butler curiously for a moment; then, deciding nothing of it, he returned to his state of barely suppressed anticipation. One family restaurant at a time…
Through the chaos of Holly's attempted shots at Foaly's precious cameras in the room, no one had noticed the Fowls' arrival back at the Manor or Artemis' hurried footsteps up the stairs. Therefore, what occurred next was utterly inevitable.
"Why, may I ask, are you shooting at my lampshade?"
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There was an unsettling silence as Holly's trigger finger stilled. The elf's eyes were wide and her expression conveyed no less than absolute horror. Frankly, she looked like a child who got caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
"Nice to see you too, Foaly," greeted Artemis cheerily as he sat down on his bed, a pleasant smile had replaced his initial shock and he looked at both fairies in turn expectantly.
Foaly, however, was less than pleased with this turn of events. The centaur was now faced with a dilemma. He would have to lie through his teeth with some plausible explanation of why Artemis' bedroom was graced with ten silver holes. He could not let Artemis know that he was being surveillance in the privacy of his own room; that revelation would heavily compromise the trust that the Mud Bod had given to the Folk.
Holly, it seemed, caught on to Foaly's train of thought and blurted out the first thing she could think of:
"Happy birthday, Artemis!" she shouted into the silence with a huge smile plastered across her face. (In actuality, it was more like the grimace one would acquire after hearing the burp of a troll, but it was the thought of smiling that counted.)
"Thank you, Holly," Artemis replied courteously, "Now, why were you shooting again?"
Upon seeing Holly's desperate expression, Artemis felt a tad bit bad for her, so he kindly supplied:
"Was it a birthday present, by any chance?"
"Yes, of course!" Holly instantly grasped onto her lifeline, "We thought that your room needed to be modernized a bit, you know, to suit your technology."
"And these 10 holes would do the trick, I suppose?" Artemis inquired, amused by Holly's antics.
"Um, yes…" Holly thought hard, and then brightened, "It's the original 11 wonders of the world!"
She then fired a shot at random into the side of a coffee mug with the periodic table printed on its side.
"There, I was just finishing up," Holly said quickly, laughing nervously, "You have 11 holes, I mean wonders, now."
"And the lampshade?" Artemis wanted to hear what she could come up with.
"Oh, the lampshade!" Holly exclaimed, "It's the centerpiece; the temple of Artemis. See the…marvellous shade of dusty beige material that it is made of? Exactly like the stones of the ancient temple. And the pentagonal shaping, simply magnificent!"
"Holly," Artemis interrupted, "The lamp is green."
"Certainly!" gushed Holly, on the verge of snapping due to nervousness, "Did I not tell you that the room needed to be modernized?"
Artemis raised an elegant brow and nodded, encouraging the flustered elf to continue. He noted in his peripheral vision that Foaly was repeatedly banging his head on his keyboard.
"Well, if the temple of Artemis were still standing today…" Holly paused dramatically, then charged on, "It would be completely covered in mold, and guess what?" another pause, "Mold is green!"
A dull thud in the direction of the LCD screen. Oh, how the mighty Foaly had fallen!
Holly's grin stretched from ear to ear as she delivered her ingenious explanation. Artemis, however, was becoming increasingly concerned about the mental welfare of his small friend.
"Holly, I believe you," the boy told her gently.
The blatant falsity of his words was lost on the hysterical LEP officer as tears gathered in her mismatched eyes.
"Really?" Holly asked hopefully.
"Of course not!" yelled Foaly, having regained consciousness after falling out of his chair earlier.
Holly glared at the centaur and huffed.
"Artemis wouldn't lie to me again," she told him, and turned to boy in question, "You wouldn't, right, Arty?"
Artemis' worry increased exponentially as Holly turned her large, watery eyes to him and pouted. The boy genius racked his brain for a solution, and after 5 seconds, he calmly left the room and promptly returned with a small cup in his hands.
"Here," he said to Holly, kneeling down beside her, "Drink this and everything will be better."
Holly took the cup from him without a word and drank its contents in a single gulp. She was feeling incredibly exhausted.
"Thanks, Arty," she slurred, "I really needed th---."
And she fell into Artemis' arms.
"Holly! Holly!" cried Foaly on screen, "What did you do to Holly?" he demanded.
"Nothing much," Artemis replied, picking up the small figure and placing her on his bed. "Just an OOC-curing concoction that I made some time ago in case I ever became too emotional."
"What is it made up of?" Foaly was curious.
"Just some tranquilizers thrown together; tastes awful, to be honest."
Artemis picked up the Neutrino handgun that Holly had dropped and fired a precise shot into one leg of his bed frame.
"That's the last one, isn't it?" He asked Foaly conversationally, "Of your 12 cameras, I meant."
And for the second time that day, Foaly fainted dead away.
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That little devil, he knew all along! Poor Holly… having to put up with such a character…
R E V I E W S are love