The Lost World
Of the Cultores Formicae
The Lost World of the Cultores Formicae
1) The Letter and the Crew
Dr. Alexander Franklin Jr.… 1
I was preparing for my trip to uncover the lost city of Atlantis as many other great archeologists had set out to do before me. One month earlier, I had sent out letters (yes the old fashioned, professional, not to mention friendly and civil) to the best of the best ... of the best… of the… well you get it. Ah, wait, maybe I should introduce myself: I am Dr. Alexander Franklin Jr. I am an archeologist/comedian. By my parents I am known by Alex, my friends its Frank, my fans, Frank my colleagues it's also Frank. To be absolutely frank, to everybody except my parents, may they rest in peace, I am Frank. I had long dark hair back then, the kind that was always trying to hide my distinctive facial features; my Folgers's© brown eyes, my, as some people see it, perfect nose and many, many other good things I've heard about my face.
Now where was I? Oh right, the best of the best…of the best…of the…we went over this already so let's skip to the part after. So there I was in a small, dark, chamber, the air was as dry as, no dryer than, the stale bread that was digesting in my stomach, with the rope ladder missing, which was good in the sense that my sensitive skin, which already had a rash on my hands, would not get worse, bad in the sense that there was no way I…could…we're not there yet. Let's see here… Right! My letters went to the Russian Dr. Professor Dimitry Ivan Melicov the Great the 3rd ,he was the third "Dimitry Blah Blah-dity-blah(not being disrespectful to my good friend, it's just that if I kept typing his title over and over again my fingers might literally fall O-F-F off) the Great" hence the title "The Great The 3rd". Then there was The Lovely British, Rebecca Ginger the Lovely, never mind that, she was, excuse me, is a computer girl woman (she's sitting right next to me so I got to be careful what words my hands want to type). Next on my list was Gary Brown the Pale or the Obnoxious, depending on my mood, he was (And thank God that the word I mean is "was" and not "is") our cocky navigator. I added Percy Brown (who actually was) the Cook; his title is self explanatory, with no relation to Gary Brown (thank goodness), and also the second youngest that was in my hand picked crew. And, last but not least, my good friend Basil Spicer, who was not…how did they put it, oh right, who was mentally unstable (in simple text he was a crazy). Then there was the exception to my archeological crew, his niece Luna Spicer. Luna was emotionally unstable, not mentally, *cough cough a little bit cough*but emotionally unstable, and slightly autistic as well. Luna was raised properly and didn't even know how to tell even the smallest of lies, the bad thing about that is she felt the need to share what she was thinking, even if it had nothing to do with the conversation at hand, but it's like I typed slightly autistic as well. Some other non important characters to the plot that die along the way (that is a joke nobody dies though it would make a much more interesting story, not writing any direct names*rhymes with Larry Frown*) that are not important to type and can be a bit tedious as well. Par example (that's French for 'for example'); there must have been four or five Jons.
My letter read, uh what did it read, oh I've got a copy right here, the letter reads:
Dear, I put their names here
I hope that you are sitting down, because I've got news for you. You have been researched by me personally, and I have decided to select you to accompany me and the greatest and one of the most often looked for, as well as the most mind boggling mysteries, well I can't give too much information. I'll need your expertise in, whatever the receiver of the letter's expertise is, in order to get whatever the outcome of the area of expertise may be. I do hope that you'll be able to join me on my quest, R.S.V.P at, I would put my personal information in this part but I am absolutely, positively not going to put that in because anyone could find me and stalk me hunt me down…huh…right the letter, no later than March 29th, because we will be leaving on April 1st. If you accept, there is absolutely no turning back, no matter what I say. (I can be very forgetful at times, so if I say otherwise please remind me and show me this letter.) I regret to inform you that if you are not of the age of 19 you are not allowed to join me on my historic quest. If you apply to the position to which I have asked you to kindly fulfill, that will be the only exception to the rule of no going back on your word. I will ask that you bring you résumé, and your permanent record along with signed alibis, this means former bosses their contact information, judges, police, and medical doctors.
Sincerely, your possible next employer,
Dr. Alexander Franklin Jr.
In my formal and underappreciated form of contact it came to an agreement (through forms of contact that I don't really appreciate) that the 29th would be the date.
Dr. Professor Melicov sent an e-mail that looked something like this; Понедельник 29 звуков хороших к мне Март (it took me a long while to figure out what it said, though he was a legal American citizen, I couldn't quite understand why he typed it in Russian)
Ms. Rebecca Ginger sent a text (this was another thing that I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out, she was a very civil woman why she even had the notion that texting me was even tolerable) that read: Monday the 29 sounds good to me March (this is exactly what the Russian Dr. Professor Dimitry Ivan Melicov the Great the 3rd had sent me, verbatim)
Gary Brown*typed with utter disgust* phone message: "Yeah, Monday, March 29th sounds good to me"
Percy (I did like his mode of communication) Lemon cake with citrus icing (he still to this day won't tell me what the icing he used was): Monday sounds good to me March 29th. It got a little smudged up on its way to my apartment but the message was clear (not to mention tasty) to me.
Basil had his and his niece sent to me taking form of a bright salmon ish colour singing telegram:
"Listen to me 'cuz here I am
I am your singing telegram
Basil and his niece want you to know
That they will both be at you show
I've sung you this song and not for free
36 dollars you have to pay me"
It was a catchy way to get my attention and a few other people in the fresh fruit and vegetable section, at my local Wal-Mart© (which doesn't actually belong to you, Basil figured that out the hard way, involving a dead ant colony, a small flag, a pile of pet waste, and a fish). I was quickly turning the color of a neighboring persimmon as I paid the obnoxiously pink-orange blob holding out his hand impatiently.
"Oh, and by the way he said something about March 29, too." said the ludicrous tutu wearing man.
"You're a singing telegram", I said dumbly.
"So, what's it to you?"
"You sing songs."
"What about being a singing telegram is so interesting?"
"Aren't songs supposed to rhyme?"
"Haven't you ever heard of free verse?" He snapped back.
It's not very polite to answer a question with a question, but sometimes… well I can't think of a reasonable time to do that. As I watched the oddity walk away he then get tackled for serial shoplifting (it does exist even a man with a highly evolved brian, such as mself(you like my little joke there?) doesn't believe it till he hears, or in this case, sees it) , which is a sight you have to savor because it's not every day you get to see a loud man (not as in volume but as in visual) get tackled, I decided to use that in my next stand up act.
A few restless weeks passed and the singing telegram became number 1 on YouTube, a "Stupid News" topic, and it was on "Chanel News 10". But March 24th came along and Rebecca Ginger was the first to arrive.
She knocked on my apartment door, after I realized who it was I started to wish two things: one I should have remembered to comb my hair and put deodorant on
Two: I should have thought of a bigger place then my two room apartment if I was going to have 6 other people in it.
"Er…" she said looking at my hair; she was making a face that, I suppose, she was trying not to make a face that said rude comments about my hair.
"Yes?" I asked flatting my hair and failing at doing so.
"Hullo is," she looked at a note card; she tried to hide doing so, not very well I might add, at that time I thought that she was the kind of girl who doesn't want anyone to know that she didn't know even a miniscule fact. It is hard to find something that she doesn't know. "Does a Dr. Alexander Franklin live here?"
Ding, ding, ding! Light bulbs went on over my head, like the ones that are all over Las Vegas, she couldn't see them because of my hair, but they were there. Just then I realized the two things that you already know.
"Uh… yes he's here"
"May I speak with him?"
"Uh… yes…you can speak with him. ME!" I shouted making her jump out of her skin. "You can sleep-SPEAK!" I've always wondered why it was talk to girls, especially the cute ones. "Speak, you can speak with me." I corrected, mentally beating myself up for an embarrassing slip of the tongue.
"Begging your pardon, but you seem to be busy at the moment. I'll just go."
"Oh. I mean no he's me, me's him" I stuttered and slammed the door to unlock the many chain locks quickly and swung the door open and expected for her to be half way down the hallway .
"NODON'TGO" I merged all my words together and shouted at the top of my lungs right into her face. "Oh" I winced.
"Okay" she laughed cringing at the strength of my voice "I think I'm deaf now"
"I am really, really sorry" I apologized "I, uh, I expected you to be down the hall thinking I was insane"
"How did you get your voice to have such volume?" she asked my, then looked around, as if to make sure that nobody heard her ask a question.
"I used to be in high school choir."
"And who are you?" She asked. I then took a large step backward and introduced myself.
"I," I took a large theatrical bow making my hair fall down over my face. "Am Dr. Alexander Franklin Junior, an archeologist/ comedian. By my parents I am known by Alex, my friends it's Frank, my fans, Frank, my colleges it's Frank, etcetera, etcetera. To be absolutely frank, to everybody except my parents, may they rest in peace, I am Frank."
"Right, Doctor" Rebecca Ginger said "I haven't been planning quite the introduction speech like you, but I'll try my best, okay, well, here goes." She said "I am Miss Rebecca Ginger, to my parents I am Rebecca to my friends and colleges I am 'Becca or Becky. To my rivals it is, and if you call me this, Dr. Frank, I will be forced against my will to end your life, mind you, it's Ginger"
"Thank you Miss 'Becca" I said "you didn't need to have an introduction speech that long."
"Neither did you, Doctor." She retorted.
"I just do things that I find necessary, humorous, or a combination of the two."
"I found that neither necessary, humorous, nor a combination." She deflated one of my "joke balloons", which aren't important to the plot line, so I'll explain later.
"Well," I clapped my hands "Well I just woke up" which was a lie, it was already 12:06 I'd been up since about 7:03. "So I'm going to go shower. Uh…you can help yourself to the fridge, my computer, the television; uh…the other bathroom is down the hall to your left."
"Thank you Doctor"
"Please, call me Frank." And I went to go shower for the second time that day.
It was about 1:05 when I got out of the shower. Rebecca walked up to me, she happened to be rather short, perhaps the size of a smaller eighth grader. As well as short hair up in a head band, she looked like a girl from a privet school in London. Rebecca, starting from the toes (which, I hate feet by the by) and working up, she was wearing black close toed heels on top of white tights, which were under a black knee length ruffled skirt. Tucked into the skirt was a white blouse that was almost hidden by a black jacket that was buttoned to the half way mark, she had a black tie, which she could tie admirably compared to me, which isn't hard to do, I lived off of clip on ties and zip ons. She was just in strict uniform, I could never live like that, and of course those are the kind of people that dressing wild is having a navy blue tie or a smiley faced band aid.
"Frank, I couldn't get to anything. Your computer had a log on password, which I probably could have guessed, scratch that, I can guess it; it is very easy to guess a password once you look around their residence. The television had a parental lock on all of the channels; the other bathroom had a lock, the bookshelf had a locked door. I couldn't even help myself to the refrigerator that had a padlock on it. You must be either very secretive, or very paranoid."
"You never know what important things you can hide in a fridge" I said
"Like what. Spoiled milk, which was a shock to me. " said a voice, that, later I figured out who that voice belonged to. "Wow. That was a strong taste if you know what I mean, I mean have you ever drank rotten milk?"
"Who is this?" I asked Rebecca "Who are you?" I then asked the man "How did you get in to my refrigerator?"
"I am Gary Brown." Gary Brown said with my last pickle hanging out of his mouth like the large brown cigar hanging out of the other side of his mouth, in my house. He was the kind of person that looked like the cool guy every high school guy wanted to be, and every girl wanted to date. That was until they had met the smoking, pickle stealing bully that he was, excuse me, and still is.
"No smoking!" Ms Ginger warned, pointing her finger at our unexpected guest, covering her mouth with her hand, or at least the best one can do whilst holding a brief case (which was black). "I happen to be horridly asthmatic"
"Well in that case" Gary Brown blew an admirable, but was it was still rude nonetheless; smoke ring into her face, and it was at that moment that I realized that this was going to be the least pleasant guest that I ever had. After a few silent moments, the kind that you can hear a pin drop from across the room, the smoke got into her lungs. She then dropped her briefcase and doubled over coughing, gripping the counter with one hand, and the other pointed at the case that she had just dropped.
"What?" I asked franticly, I wasn't the best person to ask to do something in an emergency, such as this one "What is it?"
She tried to say something, but all she could do was cough, this was the most sensitive asthmatic I have met, and I have met a lot of asthmatic people because at that moment she lost grip on the counter, clutching her sides she collapsed on the floor
"Oops" Gary Brown shrugged and ashed his cigar on my floor. At that point I'd lost my cool, which is an accomplishment you don't want to achieve.
"All right out! Get out you-" I felt my blood boil, and I called him a name that, had I'd said it to anyone else, except Gary Brown, I would have regretted later on.
"Inhaler" Rebecca finally manager to gasp "briefcase"
"Briefcase" I repeated "okay" in my panicked state, I finally managed to get the case open and throw the inhaler, and, surprisingly, Rebecca caught it.
"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"
"Your letter clearly stated-" I didn't want to hear it.
"I don't want to hear it! Just get out of my house, I am a very important rich man and have no time for jerks like you." I growled at him, well not literally but I spoke to him in a low and throaty voice, one that even I did not know I had.
"If you are a*cough cough* rich*cough* man" Rebecca had taken a puff or two of her inhaler and stopped hacking up a lung, enough to laugh "why do y-y*cough cough laugh* you have an apartment inst-t-t*cough* instead of a large mansion". This had calmed me down; you know not talking to the root of my problems and the effect of my root of problems for that time joking. That actually threw me off a bit; I didn't think that, just by looking, Rebecca was a joker.
"Well" I started, casting a last withering glance at Gary Brown, wishing looks could hurt, not kill, I'm a pacifist, so just hurt."Ms. Ginger there are three kinds of rich" I held up my thumb, my index and middle fingers "the smart ones" I raised at my thumb on my right hand "and the dumb ones" now my index finger, I examined my fingers and reiterated.
"There are two, two kinds of rich; the smart ones and the dumb ones. I happen to be the smart kind"
"I beg to differ" Gary Brown said.
"Well it's a good thing nobody asked you then is it. Plus, I really don't care about your opinion, so shut up. Now," I turned back to Becca "where was I?"
"You are the*cough* the smart kind*cough cough* kind of rich"
"Right, the smart rich, like myself" Gary Brown scoffed at this but I ignored him "are the ones who conserve their money while, the dumb ones just make it known that they are rich and buy everything their hands touch while shouting ridiculous things like 'I'm rich so this isn't out of my budget' or '1,000 dollars, that's a low price for a handsomely rich fellow, like myself'" I paused to recover the breath that I used to say that one explanation.
"While smart rich folks say things to the homeless like 'Here take this 100 dollar bill I won't need it as much as you'"
"Oh" was all that Rebecca said. There was then a loud knock at the very top of the door.
"Who is it?" I yelled at the door
"It is Russian archeologist Dr. Professor Dimitry Ivan Melicov the Great the 3rd. Does Dr Alexander Franklin live at this house?" answered the door in a thick Russian accent.
"I hadn't the slightest idea that my door had a name, did you?" I waited for Ms. Ginger to come up with an answer, but her joking personality had left without a "Thank you, Brooklyn!" (Which was good, because that would have shown that she didn't know basic geology, because, I had found residence in Williamsburg, Virginia) or an "I'll be here till the first."
"What a strange *cough* accent." Rebecca said followed by "What a large man, no offence."
"Is okay, I do happen to be large for man." said the Dr. Professor. He turned to Gary Brown and asked
"Are you fellow archeologist, Dr. Alexander Franklin?" he had asked Gary Brown.
"Thank God, no," I said before Gary Brown could answer "that would be me, just call me Frank" I offered my hand to him. Let me describe how tall he was, alright I told you that Rebecca was about the size of a short eighth grader. Now, imagine a tall basket ball player, you got that image, good now increase that by a good fifteen percent, with a Chris Cringle beard, only it was as black as night. He wasn't a skinny tall, but he was the kind of tall that was heavier, not fat or over weight, but just heavier set. With black combat, steel toed boots, the kind you would see on a soldier, which, tucked in to that were a pair of black jeans. To top it off, he had a red dress shirt with long sleeves, despite the late winter Virginia weather of seventy degrees.
"Then who is this?" the Russian said pointing his thumb at Gary Brown.
"That is Gary Brown" I said hoping to not have sounded as rude as I was thinking it sounded. The Dr. Professor said nothing. I, being as social as I am, didn't like the silence that followed that, so I broke the silence.
"So, uh Doctor. What should we call you? 'The Russian Dr. Professor Dimitry Ivan Melicov the Great the 3rd is quite a title to say anything about and/or to you. It's a mouthful, your name."
"You can call me Dimitry, or what pupils call me, Professor Melicov, eh, either one is fine. Da?"
"Right then," I said glad to have disrupted the fast of speaking "in my letter I wrote that I needed a résumé and your permanent record. Do you have them?" Before anyone could answer I, once again, had to answer the door.
"Hello, my name is Percy Brown." I had no idea this guy was young. "Dr. Alexander Franklin hired me to be his cook. Here is my permanent record and my résumé could you give these to him? Please?" I turned to the others and pointed at him
"I like him" I said, I then turned back to Percy and said "I'll make sure I give these to
As he came in side Dimitry asked him, "How old are you?"
"I am 18, sir." Percy answered. Percy did look his age, which was unfortunate for him, even if he had lied about his age, I would have known. He was black, and well brought up. He had a pair of slacks, a plain white shirt, under a jacket with a black tie. was in between bald and short, short hair, so it was not long enough to be called hair, but not short enough to be called a chrome dome.
"Hmm, that may not work out" I said sympathetically "the letter read that you must be 19 and older, I'm sorry I don't want your parents to wonder where you are."
"Well" Percy sighed looking down at his shiny formal shoes, "I doubt that my parents would care, you see I'm an orphan. Plus, I know what your letter said by heart, I read it over and over again, by the time you set of to go wherever it is that you're going I will be 19 my birthday is the 29th the day you set out."
"I'm so sorry" I apologized
"It's alright, after you've lived in an orphanage for 17 years it just becomes daily life, you'd get used to it"
"Did I hear someone say they were an orphan" said a familiar voice. Don't try to look back it isn't a voice that has been typed yet. Nope, it was a voice belonging to no other than
"The Great Basil Spicer" I said giving him a manly bear hug, "haven't seen you in a while."
"Well," he said "I am a great actor and playwright so that's probably where I was" He was an old friend of mine that I had met up in my collage years in Maine. When I type "old" I don't mean that we've known each other for twenty years, I'd only known him for five at this time, and this means that he was a male in his late forties to mid fifties. He had very thick white hair with a suit similar to Percy's.
"You mean that's what you were doing" said yet another familiar voice that isn't a reference to anything I've typed.
"Luna Spicer" we hugged a little less manly than Basil and I did, but she was a young woman so it didn't have to be masculine. Luna was also short, about as tall as Ms. Ginger, but she wasn't done growing yet. I didn't, and don't, know the actual colour of her hair, the time before, she, for some ungodly reason, to dye it bright lime green, that time it was indigo. She also wore the weirdest shirts, this particular one looked stitched up out if all different materials she liked to wear the shorter skirts, which I didn't like; of course I don't think that high scholars should wear anything that short. This time, however, she wasn't wearing shorts, but a pair of tight pants, the ones that only go to the top of the strangest clothing. This day's pick, is one that is etched into my mind, it had materials from other shirts, skirts, dresses, pants, I wouldn't be surprised if there were some tight fitting, old underwear sewn in, too. It was a one piece suit, it wasn't tight fitting, but it wasn't exactly loose either. She was into acting as much as her uncle, so she wore a lot of the no prescription contacts lenses that were different iris colors, so, I didn't know her what colour her eyes actually were, this particular day they matched her hair or at least one of them did, the other was a vivid sky blue. Luna, who saw that I was noticing her off set contact lenses
"I couldn't find that other lens that went with this shirt." She said pointing at the indigo eye
"If you were trying to match the shirt" I said "I think what you have is fine"
"So what were you saying?" the Russian asked, with the slightest hint of annoyance hiding in his thick beard
"About…what?" seeing my close friends made me lose my train of thought.
"You said something about our résumés and our permanent records."Rebecca said. At the mention of those two things I looked around the room, to make sure that I could look at all of résumés and the permanent records, at the same time. I realized that I haven't been insulted in a while, which is a good thing unless there is a person in your messy apartment and the only thing that comes out of his mouth were insults, you'd start to get suspicious.
"Where's Gary?"
"Sorry" Gary Brown said as he came from the hall. "As soon as that crazy came into the room I found the liberty to excuse myself into the Lego© room of yours"
I pointed my finger at him and thought of a snappy come back but all I could think of was
"Nobody's allowed in there!"
"Frank, the résumés and permanent records!" Rebecca caught my attention once again.
"Right, let me see them" As they were thrown on to the table I counted "1…2, 3…4…5. Last time I checked there were 6 of you-"
"You have to check?" Gary Brown cut me off, but, I ignored him
"Let's see here
'Rebecca Gur-("please skip my middle name") Ginger'"
"Just skim it mentally please" Rebecca Gertrude Ginger blushed "there are some jobs in there that I would rather be kept a secret." She started fiddling with the hem of her skirt and slightly twisting her body while biting her bottom and looking at me… WHOA sorry I just read what I wrote biting her bottom lip, her lip, whoa. Any who, there was no way that I could resist that.
"Okay" and I mumbled a few unimportant things like the colleges and schools she went to.
"That looks good to me, good and legit." I handed the résumé back in exchange for the record
"The same goes for my record Frank" she warned "I didn't do anything against British law willingly."
"Right" I said taking the record from her "I just need to make sure that there's not a pattern you know, like serial shoplifting" I cast a sideways glance at Basil
"Had I'd known that my mode of communication was a criminal"
"You'd still sent him to me, that man found me in my local Wal-Mart©"
"Which, this goes as a warning to everyone, is not actually mine or yours for that matter, and if you try to take it by brute force; make sure that you've more than one person and a dead ant colony. They will put you in Riverside for sure!"
"What?" asked my Russian colleague.
"Well, my Russian colleague, it consisted more of a dead ant colony, there was a flag, a pile of pet waste and a fish." I explained
"What was fish for?"
"Trust me my large acquaintance that I've never have met before and haven't the slightest idea what your name is" he said all of this, quickly, in one breath "I haven't the slightest idea, but mark my words, Cossack, mark my words, you, nor even I, would want to know" At the sound of the word "Cossack" the Doctor Professor looked as if he was going to pick Basil up and throw him through the walls and many walls behind that, like that one old movie "The Incredibles"
"You're kidding right?" 'Becca piped up
"About the not wanting to know about the fish or the list of things not to use in order to dominate an over rated superstore?" I wanted to know.
"The first one", she clarified "I believe the list."
"No" I said "he hardly ever jokes."
"So" she turned to Basil "you don't have any clue as to what the fish was for."
"Not a clue" he repeated.
"Did you even know that you packed it?"
"No, I distinctly remember going to the pond earlier that day to fish for just the right fish to gain control of Wal-Mart©."
"So, You've haven't the slightest idea what the fish was for?"
"Not in the foggiest, you're not one for conversations, are you Brit"
"It's, er, Rebecca" she forced a thin smile or maybe a grimace. "Or even 'Becca perhaps even Becky, but it's certainly not 'Brit'."
"Yzveeneete, but the same must apply to me as well I would prefer it if you not call me a Cossack, but use my name, the Russian Dr. Professor Dimitry Ivan Melicov the Great the 3rd, or Dimitry. Spaseebo balshoye, thank you very much." He translated.
"Well I apologize" Basil apologized "I just say whatever comes to me if I don't know your name."
"You mean you stereotype," Rebecca retorted "a habit that is one of the rudest, most horrible ones ever."
"Well, actually I respectfully disagree, I think that the rudest, most horrible habit ever is-"
"Okay," I changed the subject "then let's see here…Basil, you got another recommendation for staying the week a Riverside? That's the third time this week."
"The third time this week" Rebecca repeated, with a sound in her voice that matched that look in everyone else's eyes: uncertainty.
"Eh? Frank?" Dimitry caught my attention "may I call little side meeting, without Gospodin Basil."
I didn't know what "Gospodin" meant, but, I got the idea.
"What in world" Dimitry started "Are you doing inviting insane person to journey."
"And I don't want to sound whiny or disrespectful" Percy started "but you told me that you letter read one must be nineteen to come, his daughter"
"Niece" I automatically corrected "sorry, continue"
"Well whatever relation she has to Basil, she looks younger than me"
"Entertainment is a very important thing in a trip, true they be mentally and emotionally unstable, but I couldn't not invite Basil, and he goes nowhere without his niece, he would literally kill me if I just brought him along" I said, that was true, he had gone to prison for attempted murder, but I wasn't about to say that.
"I think you're exaggerating," Professor Melicov thought, the others agreed, "just little bit" he held his index finger and his thumb about a millimeter apart, and smiled.
"Dr. Frank exaggerates a lot," said Luna, making us jump. She didn't have a loud voice, her wardrobe made up for that, but we weren't expecting her to come up behind us.
"Excuse us, stupid little girl" Gary Brown started
"You" growled a voice, which I'd always known to be very kind "don't talk to my niece like that. If you ever, ever, do that again" Basil warned "the only voices that will talk to you are the ones deep within the furnace of Hell, and the ones paying you respect."
"They need to lock you up" Gary Brown had said the wrong thing. Considering how old Basil was, he moved with surprising speed and agility. In a flash, he was on top of Gary Brown and throwing punches at his face.
"I'll make sure you never get up after this, you villain!" As much as I wanted to see this, I had to do something. A few things hit my head before I came to this conclusion; the first was that if Basil did kill him, if I didn't go to jail for accessory to murder, I couldn't live with myself, the second was that Luna's beautiful face had sprung a leak at the corner of her eye, the third was Ms Ginger's inhaler, and her yelling at me to do something. With the help of Dimitry, it surprised me that Dimitry couldn't peel off the enraged Spicer by himself; we pulled Basil off of Gary Brown. Even though I didn't like Gary Brown, I really felt sorryfor him, his eyes quickly bruised, his mouth had a waterfall of blood, he spit out his molar, and he had started a collection of impressive cuts, he had a large bruise on his cheek, he looked like he had just gotten hit by a train. How he survived that, I will never know.
"Keep that man on a leash!" Gary Brown said, spitting blood on to my floor.
"Well," I said "you did ask for it."
"Doctor," Rebecca exclaimed "that was unwarranted!"
"I apologize, Gary" I said, I knew that Rebecca was right "It is about" I examined my watch, then, instinctively, my clock above my stove "about quarter till two, 2:45, I need to get ready for the long night ahead of us, I need to pick up my apartment a little bit"
"A little bit," Gary Brown repeated "I think you need to pick up more than just 'a little bit'"
"Just a little bit, because it would take me a long to completely clean up. Anyway," I continued "I'll need some space to clean up, so could you guys vacate till, what say, about four, in that time you can prepare for the journey there is a Dick's sporting store, J.C. Penny's and so on."
"Net nyeobhodimosti, no need, I already got items for over sea journey." Professor Melicov said "I will stay here and help you"
"Well," I thought about it, moving my jaw from side to side "Yeah, I guess, I'll need a little conversation, yeah, and that's okay, you can stay, the rest of you go get your things you think you might need for the trip."
"How," Gary Brown started "you haven't even told us where we're going to yet."
"Well, Mr. Brown, I chose you as a sailor, get what you'll need for a long trip."
"Okay, why, again, do we need to 'vacate'?" he did those air quotation marks.
"Because, I need to make room for six other people to sleep"
"You mean five." Gary Brown corrected.
"No" I said slowly.
"Yes" he insisted "I will not be staying here, so the rest of you can finish your little powwow while I get a motel room to stay at for the next week or so." And with that, Gary Brown walked out of the door without bothering to shut it behind him.
This concludes my first chapter of our book. Before I pass the laptop to my good friend, the Russian Dr. Professor Dimitry Ivan Melicov the Great the 3rd, I must say this; in order to get a good understanding of our feelings, each chapter, at the most, will be written by the members of our crew. Sadly I must type that Basil Spicer died shortly after we returned to Maine, to drop off him and his niece, Gary Brown will also not be available because he had been convicted as a murderer, killing a sweet, sweet girl Dashia. Now I must let Dimitry type his chronicle.