Chapter Thirty Six
Joxer didn't know where to go or what to do, so he found himself slowly shuffling his feet down a dusty road outside of Corinth. His head hung so low, he could only watch as his feet one by one hit the road. There was very little to feel other than a rip-roaring sadness that raged through his body.
He had changed . . . like Xena. He had heard she had started fighting for the greater good, whatever that meant, but she . . . was helping people now. What could he do? He was now a pacifist. And, yes, it felt so right it hurt. There was no other path for him at least for the time being.
That however didn't make him leap for joy. It just made him hang his head lower. Yes, it was great that Ares was so bothered by his new path. And it was nice to imagine that he'd never have to rob a family of its father or mother ever again.
What was really bothering him was that Greece, no matter where Hercules and Xena roamed, wasn't the safest place in the world. It seemed like every day a new warlord or bandit started roaming. It meant that sooner or later they would try to kill him . . . and he would probably give in like he always did. Joxer kicked a stray stone as hard as he could, sending it into orbit.
And now he was hungry! Depression had no respect! Why couldn't his body shut down? With frustration, he turned on the road that led towards the interior of Corinth. Slowly but surely the road started being filled with tiny pebbles, all stuck as tightly together as possible in order to not get dislodged as the many wagons or horses clattered inside.
There was a nice enough tavern on immediate entrance. Location, location, location . . . so Joxer chose the Dancing Child Horse tavern as his next meal place. He had money, of course. Somewhere out there, there was a cave where all his dinars and gold was stockpiled. He had enough to retire for the next ten lifetimes.
Inside, the tavern was very clean . . . this did not bode well. The filthy places always had better food and fewer bandits. But . . . he was here now and he certainly didn't want to go around the town trying to find a filthy tavern.
Sidling up to the bar, he said, "Give me the special."
"Hog's head on toast, coming up!"
"Make that a hamburger," Joxer said quickly.
"No one ever wants the special," the bartender muttered and went to work.
Suddenly, almost as if on cue, the swinging doors squeaked open and close and open and close and open—geez, just make that door swing once, Joxer thought irritated. But what came with the annoying door were six of the biggest plug-uglies he ever had the displeasure of seeing.
He would normally mop the floor with these guys on general principle. Now, however, it would just make Ares say "I told you so," and prevent Joxer from staying on his path. Joxer sunk into himself, hoping his food would arrive quickly.
"Give us all your money!" the biggest yelled.
"Sure thing, sure thing," the bartender said and went towards the cash register. "No trouble guys, right? I certainly don't mind helping out if you need money."
Joxer smiled. This was going better than he thought. There would be no need for violence. All this guy was going to lose was what was in the cash box at noon. Not a bad loss . . . and Joxer wouldn't have to start fighting.
"Oh, and we would like some girls!"
Joxer closed his eyes. Darn it they were sexist pigs, too. This wasn't going as well as he had hoped. There was no recourse . . . he'd have to fight. So much for his ways . . . so much for what his mother wanted.
"Oh! We do only have, um, one girl today." The bartender grinned, a grin not at all what Joxer would think would be appropriate on the face of a guy who was terrified. What did he know?
"Oh, Lasla, sweetie, can you come out here?"
And a woman came out . . . or maybe it was two women. She certainly was big enough. She was obviously well fed. Joxer didn't know, though, what the bartender's plan was. These stupid bandits wouldn't care if she was fat or thin.
"It seems these guys want you, dear," the bartender said.
"They do! Even after the last ones? I am so thrilled!" she exclaimed. "Hugs?"
"Um . . ." the leader said, but he looked a bit nervous. "Last ones?"
"I'm Lasla the humongous! I usually crush the amorous, but I reward the ones who can handle me. Can you, sweetie?" she winked at the leader, who looked even more nervous.
"Um, what happened to the last ones?"
"Crushed into happy goo, I assure you," she said and then did a little shimmy. "Come, sweeties, join me. You'll feel great before you lose your oxygen. What do you say?"
"You know . . . we have lost our appetite . . . we were just leaving." And they hightailed it out of there.
"Nicely done, Lasla," the bartender said.
"Next time call me quicker," she scolded. "You seem to have almost lost a morning's wages."
"Wait, wait, wait!" Joxer yelled. "That was an act?"
Lasla looked at him and laughed. "You don't think I really could crush a man just because of my girth, do you?"
"Well . . . it does sound ridiculous," Joxer admitted.
"But they don't know that! I help out around here. These thugs seem to spend a lot of time on the road, and they always come in here demanding girls like they are their personal property or something. And Xena and Hercules aren't always around. I learned a long time ago, the first step in battle is winning it in the mind. Scare them . . . or gross them out. Sometimes they even laugh. What they don't do is call me on it. I have never suffered the unwanted advances of an overly amorous patron . . ."
"So . . . you act?" he asked. "You don't need to fight at all?"
"Well, sometimes there are the masochistic boys," she admitted. "But I do know Sumo, but hey . . . it only happens once in a blue moon."
"Thanks, Lasla, thank you so much!" Joxer said and pumped her arm in his gratitude. He never thought about an act, maybe not one like Lasla's—that would get him killed.
"Well, I don't know what I did, but you're welcome," she answered in confusion
She went back to what she was doing, and Joxer ate his meal with a lot more hope than ever before. All he had to do was perfect an act that would get people laughing more than angry, and that would make it so he would rarely be targeted for death.
A newcomer came into the bar. "Give me some wine, please," he begged and the bartender quickly handed some over.
"You okay?" Joxer asked.
"I am now. I just escaped from being killed by Xena Warrior Princess."
"You're a bandit?" Joxer asked in surprise.
"No . . . I am just a simple villager. Xena's army is back in action. I heard she's been poisoning wells and destroying villages."
"No . . ." Joxer said. It couldn't be. Xena had struck such a blow for goodness by leaving Ares' service. She couldn't be back in action . . . she just couldn't be.
Well . . . Joxer guessed it was time to check out if his act would work, and on who better than an evil Xena? If he could stop her from killing him, then he knew his pacifist role would work.
Something niggled though . . . Xena wouldn't poison wells . . . She never intentionally murdered women and children. This didn't make sense. An imposter? Maybe . . . so it was time for Joxer to instead of fighting do some reconnaissance. If an imposter was there, he'd get a bead on their numbers and report to Xena. If she was back in action, maybe he could convince her to give the whole greater good thing another chance.
"Joxer the tidy . . ." he said slowly, and then tried something else out. "Joxer the Mighty will stop her!" he said grandly.
"Who is Joxer the Mighty?"
"I am! Don't I look like a warrior?"
"Um . . ." The newcomer checked out his hat and smirked. "Sure . . . You might want to stay away from Xena, idiot."
Yes! That was Joxer, he was an idiot. And Joxer the Mighty was ready for action!
"So . . . well, you know the rest," Joxer told Xena who was sitting back against a boulder, letting the meal settle. "I met up with you and realized it wasn't you and then met up with Callisto to see if I could gather intelligence."
"So, that's why you were in Callisto's camp again when I fought her!"
"Yep, I didn't want her killing Gabrielle. You were sure taking your time getting there."
"I pushed Argo as fast as possible!" Xena defended.
"Not as fast as my feet," he said smugly.
'Okay, Joxer . . . I'm glad to know everything. I'll wait for the story about Lockinus . . . and Callisto. We have some important fish to fry tomorrow."
"Yes . . . the Dahak cult."
Both were silent, staring at the scattering of stars. There was a strange look to them, a bad omen. Somehow . . . this thing with Dahak wouldn't end well.