Seven Twisted Tornados
(A parody of the adventures of Tintin)
Cincin woke up suddenly startled by the sound of an angry outburst.
He peered outside his window. "What in heaven's name is going on?" he wondered out loud. Windy started barking and was digging angrily at the ground, his paws desperately trying to reach something.
"FASCIST PARASITES! COWARDLY QUEERS!" thundered Captain Flake. "YOU WON'T GET AWAY WITH THIS! I'M CALLING THE PEST AUTHORITIES TO HUNT YOU ALL DOWN!"
"What on earth is going on?" intervened Cincin, still dressed in his dressing gown and snuggies (ugg boots for men). Then he looked over to what could be causing Captain Flake's latest outrage. "Oh…." he said.
"Oh indeed!" surged Flake. "My plants! My BEAUTIFUL plants! Eaten alive by those BARBARIC sea monkeys!" Flake always had a way with words, and would often use "sea monkeys" to describe any barbaric species, including humans.
Windy was angry too and was barking his head off. He loved a good fight.
Cincin was disappointed by the scene of torn leaves and abruptly stolen roots, holes clearly visible where teeth and thieving hands had been. Any creature could have been having a feast on those wonderful veggies which Flake had been so carefully harvesting: crows, possums, ants, mice, cats, or rats (he shuddered at this last thought). His mind groped to find a solution….rat poison perhaps?
Just as Cincin was thinking of some helpful suggestions, he received an email on his smartphone altering him to his latest mission: underwater seadiving off the coast of Sardinia to recover long lost treasure. As Cincin read the email he frowned at the severity of what he read – surely "underwater" and "seadiving" didn't need to go together as it was already implied that one would mean the other. And apostrophes had been placed in all the wrong places, creating incorrect syntaxes. He sighed. But what really bothered him as he finished reading it was the fact that he had never been diving before and didn't have a license.
"You done?" interrupted Flake, who still wanted to whine about his eaten plants.
"Oh I'm sorry" said Cincin. "How very rude of me. But I have just received an important message. Look!"
Flake read the email, oblivious to all the spelling errors. As Flake read it, Cincin sighed, "I don't think I can do it. I don't even have a diver's license."
"Well that didn't stop you from going to the moon" pointed out Flake. "Just do one of those online courses. You could have it in a day."
They spent the morning researching online diving courses, and finally found one on Groupon that had a 2 for 1 deal. It was due to expire in less than a week.
"That means I can do it with you!" exclaimed Flake. "So we can go together."
"Um, I don't think that's a good idea" hesitated Cincin, knowing Flake's tendency to erupt under pressure from substance abuse.
"Tough titties, I'm doing it" said Flake, and that was it. The next day they showed up to the training academy located somewhere in the CBD. A large gentleman with unnaturally perfect teeth greeted them.
"Hi, I'm Glen" said Glen. He was blonde and tanned and looked like he did a lot of adventure holidays outdoors.
Glen promised that the course would be "very interactive" and "very easy" and all they had to do to pass was answer 10 multiple choice questions.
Throughout the day they were kept busy by learning different safety procedures and how to put on a diving suit, how to operate an oxygen tank and how to search for buried treasure.
"And what happens if we come across a shark?" enquired Cincin, who was always thinking about practical problems.
Glen smiled. "We don't cover that here. You learn that in Cert IV."
The exam was handed out at 3pm, everyone passed and by 4pm Cincin and Flake were fully qualified deep sea divers.
"Wohoo, we're off to Sardinia!" chortled Flake. "Let's celebrate!" He spent all night drinking sangria and ended up with a painful hangover the next morning.
Cincin spent so much time taking care of Flake on the flight that he didn't notice that Glen was also on the same flight with them, just two seats back.
Once they stepped off the plane and passed through customs Flake and Cincin were ready for an afternoon siesta to sleep off their jet lag. They arrived at their hotel and didn't notice that Glen had booked the room adjacent to theirs.
Hours later they woke up famished and went hunting for dinner. They decided to go to the nearest seafood restaurant by the seaside which had been recommended in their Lonely Planet Guide. It was called "little seahorse on the ocean" and they served magnificent platters of seafood covered with crab, lobster, Atlantic salmon, prawns, calamari, and gleaming fresh oysters. Flake and Cincin's eyes watered at the beauty of it.
Unfortunately, they were on a tight budget so had ordered something much more simple: Cincin with his modest bowl of mushy gnocchi covered in gluggy clam broth ("mmmm, I can taste the clams, almost fresh!" said Cincin with good cheer) and Flake ordered some beer battered scallops with a side of beer battered fries ("real seaman's food, want some?" he offered Cincin but Cincin declined).
After dinner they got cracking on their plan to recover the buried treasure. They had to report to the embassy in the morning and then they would be escorted to the scene by boat to complete their diving mission. They hadn't been told yet what the buried treasure would be; they would find out when they got to the embassy.
"It must be top secret stuff if they haven't told you yet" speculated Flake. "What do you think it could be?"
Cincin pondered. "Well, it couldn't be gold or precious metal, anyone could go diving for that. Or any kind of historical artifact for that matter – there are much more qualified divers than us to do that kind of retrieval….." He drifted off while watching some samba dancers shake their booty around. He saw them coming over in his direction.
"Let's get going, we need an early night" he said, and started to leave the table.
"All in good time" said Flake, and held him back. It was too late for escape now. Suddenly they were surrounded by 3 garish looking women shaking and throwing feathers on them.
Cincin remained calm and smiled and applauded politely. "Very good, very good" he said. "Now we really must go!"
"Will you stop it with your priming and yer propering!" argued Flake. "I'm gonna stay and let these ladies show me a good time!"
"Fine!" snapped the usually unflappable Cincin. "Do whatever you like! Just don't whinge when you wake up all cranky in the morning because you stayed up too late with your partying and drinking!" And he stormed off.
"You'll have to excuse my friend" explained Flake. "He doesn't like to get too close to women."
On the way home Cincin cursed under his breath for letting his temper get the better of him. Of course he had allowed Flake to come on this mission so why did it matter if he wanted to have a good time? The truth was Cincin never felt comfortable when things got a little racy and he wasn't prepared to let himself go on this mission. Not this mission – not ever.
He reached his hotel with the resolve to let the matter drop in the morning. He set his alarm and he went to sleep.
In the morning just as he had predicted Flake woke up with a blistering headache. He had spent the night drinking hard and he couldn't remember how he managed to stumble back to the hotel. He had rung Cincin in the middle of the night to let him in, and when he got to bed he snored his head off. He was still snoring when the alarm went off. He cursed and resisted the urgency to make himself presentable for the embassy.
"Taxi is here" said Cincin cheerfully. "I'm going whether you're ready or not."
Flake was still lulling around in his sheets, a pillow jammed over his head. "Well have a good day" said Cincin with finality. And he left.
Cincin approached the embassy with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Today he would discover why they had brought him here, and what he could do that was so important. He walked up the long concrete stairs of the embassy, and was asked to wait in the lobby for quite some time. First he checked his smartphone for messages, then he thought about ringing the hotel to see how Flake was getting on. He hesitated at this thought, just as an official came down the long corridor.
"Ah Mr Cincin! Sorry to have kept you waiting!"
Cincin was brought to the office of the head official, who painfully made him fill in lots of paperwork. It was a very routine, if boring, administrative process. Cincin was keen to cut to the chase.
"So when will I find out about this mission?" inquired Cincin, hoping he didn't sound too impatient.
"In a day or two" said the head official. "Today we just take copies of your ID and have everything verified."
Cincin was disappointed. "Oh….so we're not going out to sea then? Not today?"
"Not today."
Cincin was feeling a pang of loss and frustration as he left the embassy that he didn't even notice that Glen was sitting in the lobby.
Before Cincin got back to the hotel he stopped off somewhere to have an early lunch. He drank some lemonade. He was deep in his thoughts and didn't realize that the waitress was one of the samba dancers from the night before.
"A terrible day?" she asked.
Cincin looked up sharply. "Why should it be terrible?...Oh, you mean, am I having a terrible day?" He shook his head. "No, not terrible…." He looked away.
"I hope your friend is OK."
He looked back at her wondering why she would say that. Then finally he realised she was one of the samba dancers. He smiled at his own awkwardness. "Oh excuse me, I didn't recognise you. Yes, my friend is OK, he woke up this morning with a bad headache. I left him by himself this morning to recover. I hope he didn't cause you any trouble." He paused, then he added "sorry if I was rude last night."
She smiled good naturedly. "My name is Juanita."
"And I'm Cincin."
They didn't speak much after that, Cincin was very careful to not divulge anything about his top secret mission. Though how much Flake had revealed he couldn't be sure. He paid for his lemonade and went back to the hotel.
When he opened the door the scene of the room startled him. Both their suitcases were lying empty on the floor, with contents thrown about everywhere, and Flake was no where to be seen. Normally scenes like this were not uncommon as Flake was known to go rummaging at any time for a quick hit of something, but something told Cincin that this time was different. Someone must have broken in and carried him away. Someone else must have known about this mission. Someone must have –
"CINCIN!" beseeched a voice behind him. He jumped and around. He saw it was Glen.
"You're Glen! The diving instructor! What are you doing here?"
"Oh I'm just with a friend here on holiday in Sardinia, hey I didn't realise you guys were staying in the same hotel, I could have got you a special deal. Hey is something wrong?"
"It appears our room has been ransacked and my friend has been kidnapped."
"Really?!" said Glen sounding genuinely intrigued. "Why would anyone do a thing like that? Is he rich?"
"Hardly…." muttered Cincin.
"Is there anything I can do to help? Do you want me to call somebody?"
Cincin hesitated. Time was of the essence but he didn't want to give too much of his story away. "No I better sort this out alone….it's very personal…." He raced down to the lobby.
"Hey wait maybe I can help you…." insisted Glen, keeping up with him.
Cincin relayed his story to the concierge and demanded immediate assistance. "Get me the police!" he implored. They obliged his request and told him to wait in the lobby. He paced back and forth.
"Hey man, just chill, remember what I told you about breathing deeply….." said Glen, but Cincin had no time for breathing deeply. It was time for action!
The police arrived shortly at the hotel and ushered Cincin to a private room. With them was the chief inspector who would be leading the recovery of the ocean treasure.
"I'm sorry we did not have the opportunity to meet yesterday" said the inspector. "But now with these turn of events it is time to take action quickly."
"Yes" agreed Cincin in earnest.
The Chief Inspector explained how the ocean treasure recovery was of upmost importance for the future of the world. Anyone who knew about it or knew its location or could retrieve it would be a target for immediate assassination.
"Well what is it?" said Cincin.
The inspector shifted uncomfortably. "We would like your help in retrieving it, yes, but with little danger to your life as possible. The less you know, the better it is."
"It's melamelaranium isn't it?"
The inspector's blink gave himself away. "Um….I can't say."
"Your face says plenty," said Cincin evenly. "I may not know a lot about chemical warfare but I am not a worldwide winning investigative journalist for nothing. I know melamelaranium is ten times more powerful and harmful than plutonium or uranium – the chemicals that are used to make an atomic bomb. And whoever has possession of melamelaranium has the potential to make the most lethal bomb the world has ever seen." He sighed at the secrecy of it all. "Look, I know how extremely dangerous this recovery mission is, but I certainly won't want to put my life – or anyone else's – in jeopardy."
"But you will help us". It wasn't a question but a command.
"Of course" replied Cincin, not liking the tone of the inspector's voice. "When will you start searching for my friend, Captain Flake?"
"Leave the matter of finding your friend with us" assured the inspector. "You start work in the recovery mission now."
After this tense interview Cincin aided the officers in looking over the hotel room. Then the officers went to the lobby to interview the hotel staff. It was their assumption that Flake was still somewhere in Sardinia, being held for ransom. But in fact, Flake had been abducted and smuggled onto a boatload of illegal immigrants who were headed for a hostile country. "When they find him on the other side, their people will deal with him there" said the head of the syndicate who had lured Cincin and Flake into this trap.
"And what if they don't?"
"There is a secret agent in that country who will" assured the leader. "Now, tell me more about what you know about this mission."
"The police arrived at the hotel today" said Glen. "Cincin doesn't seem to know anything about this mission although I get the feeling he does."
"We do not operate on feelings" said the leader tersely. "Tell me what you know!"
"I don't know" said Glen after a pause. It was best not to overexplain at this point or make promises. Or to try to tell the leader he was working on building "rapport" with Cincin so that he would trust him.
"Go on the mission with him" instructed the leader. "I don't care whether he tells you anything, just find a way to go wherever he goes. And report back to me."
"Yes, your Greatness."
With the disappearance of Flake, Cincin tried to stay calm without letting his mind go to pieces of all the awful possibilities. But it was very difficult. On the eve of his first diving mission he sat in the restaurant of the hotel and could barely touch his gluggy clam chowder.
Glen drifted past and gave a friendly, but not overbearing, hello.
Cincin's face lit up when he saw Glen. After all the chaos it was good to see someone he recognized.
"Hello Glen!" His eyes wandered to the empty seat in front of him.
"How's it going?" asked Glen. "Any news?"
"No, four days and no news. It's just like he vanished."
Glen took a seat at the table. "So what are you going to do?"
"I'm, er, I'm going diving tomorrow" said Cincin. "No, not for fun, it's….it's important."
"Well, you're not a worldwide winning journalist for nothing" said Glen. "It must be pretty dodgy if they took your friend."
Cincin nodded glumly.
"Have you got anyone to go with you?"
That part had been bothering Cincin. After Flake's disappearance he didn't want to go underwater diving by himself, even though Glen had been a pretty good instructor and make them practice all the safety measures.
"No, no I haven't" admitted Cincin. "What if….what if something goes wrong?"
"Just relax, you'll be fine" said Glen. "The waters around here are pretty calm."
"Ah, I need to go a bit further than that."
"How much further?"
"About 50km out to sea."
Glen frowned. "Going in pairs would be better" he said. "Are you sure you haven't got anyone to go with you?"
Cincin shook his head.
"I mean I would offer but…"
"Oh please don't" said Cincin. "It's your holiday…"
"Yeah, but if it helps to find Flake sooner….I would hate to think of you being alone out there and something happens and bam! It's all over."
"But if you did come along I wouldn't be able to tell you anything" said Cincin, suddenly feeling very grateful for Glen's presence.
"Well you gotta do what you gotta do. Whatever you guys do in your profession it's your business. I'll just be hanging out with you in the ocean, watching your back for sharks."
"Alright" said Cincin. "We leave at dawn tomorrow."