Major problems
I am the very model of a modern Major-General,
I've information vegetable, animal and mineral,
I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical,
From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical….
"Jack," a voice called from the distance. Jack peered out into the packed audience of the auditorium, but stayed firmly in character.
I'm very well acquainted too with matters mathematical…
"Jack!" the voice called again, much closer this time. He glanced stage right, past the water roaring down an onstage waterfall, and there was Miss Phryne Fisher. She stood smiling, bedecked in her costumed, floral hat that Jack remembered from her few seconds rehearsing RuddyGore.
Jack sighed inwardly, but continued.
I understand equations, both simple and quadratical…
"Jack, I need the key!" Phryne called, "in your breast pocket!"
Rolling his eyes, Jack turned to her. "Miss Fisher, I am in the middle of a performance," he said curtly. "What will the critics say?" He waved toward the gilded auditorium. The shining spotlights slowly dimmed, and he realized the many rows of red, velvet seats now stood empty.
"What the devil is going on?" he asked, looking back at Phryne whose hat had somehow disappeared. She winked at Jack and pointed to the floor. Jack's head followed her direction, and he noticed the roaring waterfall was now pouring onto the stage. "Well, that's a mess for the propman," he muttered.
Jack heard a steady clanging of brass on metal. The sound reverberated in his ears with a hollow echo. He turned to tell Phryne to cut out the racket, and discovered she was drenched from head to foot, her right arm dangling in the air.
Something about this isn't right, his brain slowly notified him. Shaking his head slightly, Jack looked back again at Phryne, who was not standing on a well-lighted stage, but apparently handcuffed to a steel bar perched above her.
"Phryne, are you all right?" he attempted to ask, but his words slurred into something more along the lines of Phareallllllyite?
Her head snapped back to him. "Jack!" she called with what he swore sounded like a wave of relief. He blinked several times, wishing the water would stop sounding so much like ringing in his head. Jack looked down to see he was sitting on a battered crate that would soon be underwater. Through Phryne was handcuffed to a bar above him, the water in the hold of the ship would soon reach her as well.
The ship, he thought. We came onboard the ship to find McPherson. By the non-stop ringing in his ears and the pain now registering in his head, Jack surmised that they found him – or he found them. Which means I was hit on the head – yet again, thought Jack. The ship creaked under the strain of rising water, and Jack locked eyes with Phryne. His stomach jolted as he caught the stark fear in her eyes.
Blinking back the urge to sit down and close his eyes, Jack pushed himself off the crate. He waded to Phryne and fished the keys out of his breast pocket. As Jack reached up to unlock her, a wave of dizziness engulfed him and he fell against her.
I'm very good at integral and differential calculus,
I know the scientific names of beings animalculous…
The next thing Jack knew, they were making their way from the water, his arm draped over Phryne. "Are you quite all right, Miss Fisher?" Jack asked as carefully as he could, though his brain was screaming at him to sleep.
"Of course, Jack," she said, practically pulling him toward the Hispano-Suisa. Opening the car door, she eased him into the passenger seat. She brushed a hand gently over his head, and Jack did his best to not cringe at the pain. "We've got to get you to hospital," she said firmly, and closed the door.
"If you say so, my love, but do try to obey the speed limit," he murmured, feeling his eyelids grow heavy again.
"JACK!" Phryne yelled as she climbed into the driver's seat and reached for him. "You must not fall asleep, do you understand? You've been hit on the head – again."
Feeling her shake him lightly, Jack slowly opened his eyes and smiled. "Hello, beautiful Phryne," he said dreamily.
"You have the worst timing, Jack Robinson," Phryne sighed, and quickly slammed the car into action. "Jack!" she called to him as her rising speed whipped off her driving hat. "Jack, I need you to talk to me. Stay awake!"
Jack hummed to himself. About binomial theorem and I'm teeming with a lot 'o news... "I feel we are traveling at an alarming speed, Miss Fisher," he said quietly, and felt his eyelids grow heavy again.
"That's right, Jack!" Phryne called. "So I need you to distract me!" The car nearly rose on two wheels as she whirled around a corner. Phryne yanked the wheel to avoid a slow-moving fruit cart meandering in the road. Jack's eyes snapped open as his shoulder fell against the car door.
"Distract you, Miss Fisher?" he asked.
Phryne never took her eyes off the road. "I need you to sing, Jack!" she called, silently thanking her lucky stars Mac's hospital was only blocks away. She looked over at him. "Come on, Jack. 'I know our mythic history, King Arthur's and Sir Something-ac'."
"Sir Caradoc, Phryne," he said. A moment later, his voice tumbled out in a low song, "I know our mythic history, King Arthur's and Sir Caradoc's, I answer hard acrostics, I've a pretty taste for paradox."
Phryne smiled and joined in. "I quote in elegiacs all the crimes of Heliogablus, In conic I can floor peculiarities parablous," they sang loudly. And together they raced along the road at break-neck speed – Gilbert and Sullivan in their wake – to safety.
Poor Jack, his noggin really does take a beating on the show.
All right, too much danger this time? Would love your reaction. Have a rather silly one in my head for a possible other chapter. Let me know if you think it should veer silly or more dangerous.
