Chapter 4

March 25, 2001 – Sunday

Dear Diary,

Can't write today – busy. Hmph! "Day of rest", indeed!

Your faithful – but very busy – servant,

Wendy.

March 26, 2001 – Monday

Dear Diary,

Well, this is where it begins. Not where, exactly – more like when it begins. Our trip to Florida (although, the trip itself is over and we are all currently slugging down coffee to try to regain some emotional and mental equilibrium from what was a very trying flight, indeed) to try to catch up with a book-napping madman.

Yomiko will probably never forgive him.

Nancy won't, either, but for a different reason. Apparently, Yomiko was too worried about the books last night for their usual…'pillow fight', and I can imagine that this has made her none too happy.

I suppose I should probably explain why, if we're only on our way to Florida today, yesterday was so busy.

Well, it began by being wakened up far too early by someone shaking my shoulder. At first, having gotten used to it, I thought it was Mr. Drake, warning me that I'd better stop cuddling up or I'd be sleeping out in the snow. Sigh. I do wish we had been moved to the double room that we actually booked on the first night in Yellowknife instead of the third.

Oh, come now; you can't exactly control what you cuddle when you're sleeping, and if you're groggy enough, Drake looks something like a giant teddy bear.

I consider that little remark to be revenge for telling me I think like his seven-year old daughter.

Of course, since he will never find out about it, as he would not likely go anywhere near my diary even if I would let him, I suppose the revenge is rendered fairly ineffective.

Still, I was in the middle of a story. Or rather, at the beginning of a story, which I killed by rambling about Drake and his distinctly teddy-bear appearance.

Now for the story.

I woke up yesterday morning, being shaken gently by someone who was not Drake. It was, instead, Mr. Joker, who looked a little confused and not terribly happy when I called him Drake and told him I would stop cuddling if he'd shut up and let me go back to sleep.

I have no idea how on earth my boss got my house-key, and at the moment, I don't even want to consider it. I'd rather cherish my imagined scenario in which he took mine from my key ring and had another copy made for the purposes of someday doing something very daring and fun and involving a hasty removal of clothing, than deal with the probable reality of his having made a lucky guess that I would have a spare key under the Welcome mat like everyone else on the planet.

Either way, the experience of having Mr. Joker in my bedroom woke me up very, very quickly, and I leapt out of bed and started apologizing for over-sleeping, unfortunately before I remembered that I had been far too warm Saturday night due to my piling every blanket in the flat on top of me, and thus slipped out of my pajamas as an easy alternative to actually removing some of the blankets.

Mr. Joker stared at me curiously, noting that he hoped I wasn't planning on coming to the Library this way.

I think I handled the situation very well, after diving back into my nest of blankets to preserve some modesty. I laughed nervously that no, coming to work naked had never been on my To-Do List. Aside from that one time in college, but you know how it is: alcohol and rowdy friends.

Mr. Joker replied somewhat sheepishly that yes, he knew how it was, and looked a bit red.

I absolutely MUST try to pick this story out of him later.

Oh, dear…the ink seems to be running again, and rather badly this time. I had best get back to the story.

I dressed hastily, all the more hastily as, strangely enough, Mr. Joker made no move to leave while I did so, and we were off.

When we reached the Library (and I found myself once again spending my Sunday there, thank-you-very-much), Drake, Yomiko, and Nancy were ready and waiting, although grudgingly so. They seemed to be in much the same mind about it as me: not the worst thing to happen, but sleep would be better.

Then we proceeded to have a meeting best described as the very exact literal opposite of lively.


I suppose that would be dead.

Well, perhaps it wasn't quite dead, but it came very close.

Drake nodding off periodically didn't help.

Still, after a time (once Drake was kicked awake by Nancy and Yomiko was pried away from her book, again by Nancy) the four of us managed to yawn out an account of what exactly what happened in Yellowknife (aside from the four of us developing nasty colds in a rather impressive show of delayed reaction).

Mr. Joker did not look pleased.

When Drake demanded exactly what was wrong with our report, Mr. Joker replied that nothing at all was wrong with its method of presentation, but that several things were wrong with the content, or if we preferred, with the way we had actually carried out the mission.

Drake pointed out, through gritted teeth that clearly bespoke his great longing to request that Mr. Joker stop being a smartass, that this was what he had meant.

Mr. Joker replied quite calmly that not only did we fail to collect the overdue fine, but that I had clearly come away with no idea as to the appropriate conduct of a field agent, or the opportunity to utilize my unique ability.

I felt the need to point out here that none of us had been particularly useful, as the mission had been one of the stupidest in known history.

Mr. Joker shut me up very effectively. I suppose he learned from Mr. Gentleman how to sit at someone.

However, he wasn't nearly so effective at silencing Nancy, who took my complaint and ran with it, as it were, pointing out that the fact we had pointlessly wasted two days on a training mission that failed utterly to train the trainee (me, I assume) at all, was not our fault, since I had clearly not been told at all what to expect.

Mr. Joker replied that this was exactly why he had sent me out with the three of them: he wanted people who would be willing and able to help a 'newbie' acquire the necessary skills.

As he poured another cup of tea, I took the moment to glance around the group.

Nancy was shaking her head in despair, forehead propped against one hand.

Drake was emanating a fairly clear aura of, "I have SO many better things to be doing than this".

Yomiko was utterly unaware of the world around her, since a book had come into her line of vision.

It was easy to tell which of these three would be the most lenient and helpful to a newbie.

Yes, I was very, very glad that Yomiko had been along. I shudder to think of the sad state I'd be in now, if I'd been left to the kindly natures of Nancy and far worse, of Drake.

At any rate, Mr. Joker proved his latent tendencies towards a nature as a right bastard, and suggested that, since I blatantly had no idea what I was doing, more training would be in order.

Groan.

And that, since the three of them would be the ones to work with me, perhaps they would like to hang about and ensure that I was trained in the manner they would find easiest to work with.

Hah.

At least I wasn't suffering alone.

I won't go into a careful and detailed account of Sunday's training, mostly because the detailed accounts of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday of last week should suffice, but partly because I don't think any of us want to relive it.

I'll say only that Drake learned how one woman's latent dumb luck, coupled with a supernaturally strong propensity for accidents, can be of use to her, while being extremely dangerous to everyone unlucky enough to be around her.


I do hope his nose has stopped bleeding from being hit with the bowling ball that the scientists just had to bounce off my head one more time 'for old time's sake, you know, dear'.

For that matter, I hope Dr. Phillips' nose has stopped bleeding from that nasty punch Drake delivered before Yomiko and Nancy could restrain him.

Honestly, I don't understand any more than they seemed to exactly why we needed to revert back to the 'ball-dropping'.

I wish I could say that things got better once we began going through simulated missions together, but…well, I don't like to lie to my diary.

Honestly, I had no idea that lightning could strike with that kind of accuracy. Indoors. Poor, poor, poor Dr. Jameson. As soon as he woke up, he demanded to be removed from this project straightaway.

I wish I could do that.

Not that I haven't tried, but Mr. Joker just laughed and said he could tell that I was enjoying myself, despite my complaints.

Humph. Men. Remarkably skilled at seeing only what they want to see, the whole lot of them.

But the world would be a sad, sad place without Mr. Joker nevertheless. Just the thought is making me misty.

Alright, then! Back to the story, which is essentially over. The training lasted until about nine o' clock in the evening, and when it ended, Nancy, Yomiko, and Drake trudged wearily back to their hotel, while I prepared to trudge wearily for home.

Apparently, Mr. Joker has a better memory than I do, however, because he reminded me that he had asked me to keep the evening open so that we could discuss some aspects of the past few days over a drink or two.


I think I recall something about that, although I doubt I would have argued the point either way.

Still, I'm absolutely certain I don't remember anything about the 'discussing' being done at his place.

Either way, it hit a bit of a snag when I recalled, unfortunately not until after a fairly sizeable drink, that my alcohol tolerance is utterly pitiful.

Long story short, coupled with the fact that I am a sleepy drunk rather than a rowdy drunk or a…er…'playful' drunk, I managed to wake up at my boss' home, quite contentedly cuddled up to him, for the second time in a month.

Sigh.

Now, this makes me sad. Even the involvement of alcohol couldn't turn the incident into something steamy and indecent rather than poor, sleepy little Wendy not being able to stay awake long enough to put on her shoes and walk to the car.

What exactly do I have to do to get a steamy, sordid, and indecent encounter?

Perhaps someday, when we get back, I'll just jump him on his way out of his office, and remove his pants by force.

Or perhaps not.

And so that was Sunday.

Monday got off to a ripping start by, as I've said, waking up on my boss' couch, cuddled peacefully up to him until the point of waking up, and after that, suffering the effects of a mild hangover – really, just a headache and a sensation that food would be fatal right then.

Mr. Joker moved away drowsily and checked the time, and then woke up very suddenly and completely in a shout of dismay that gave me the strangest urge to laugh hysterically.

Oh, come now; who wouldn't laugh a little at their boss shouting, "Oh, bum!", I ask you?

I stopped laughing when Mr. Joker explained grimly that he had planned to have me back at the Library an hour and a half ago, to negate the problem of having to explain why, once again, we were arriving together, and one of our cars had been left in the lot.

Oh, bum.

It turned out just as badly as we had expected, and after the first ten minutes of twenty-one people asking the same question and laughing as hysterically as if they were being either witty or original, Mr. Joker looked ready to kill someone, and I felt the same.

Although, I must say, Mr. Joker's utterly baffled expression when Yomiko asked us, blushing slightly and with a vaguely impish smile, if we had had a nice pillow-fight last night, was hilarious.

I was very tempted to reply, just loudly enough for Drake, who was pointedly ignoring the whole conversation, to hear, that yes, it had been incredibly nice, and that Mr. Joker looked very good indeed wearing feathers and nothing else.

The fact that Mr. Joker was standing directly to my right stopped me, although just barely.

At any rate, after a short delay involving Acne forgetting where he had left his keys to the helicopter (I am personally still fuzzy as to whether the helicopter starts with a key, or if Acne, whose real name I still do not know, is just a bit of a twit), we were off to Florida.

I honestly have to wonder why we never just take an airplane anywhere.

At least then, we might get some peanuts out of it, instead of the privilege of hearing Acne's Elvis impersonation.

I've never liked Elvis, ever since that incident in the fourth grade with the sequins, and Acne certainly didn't help me to gain an appreciation for "The King".

Hmm…I wonder if something like that is responsible for Drake's extreme diary phobia. If so, I feel nearly bad for playing to it so mercilessly.

Nearly.


After all, I'm still a little annoyed with him for pointedly whistling "Heartbreak Hotel" at me for the last four hours of the flight, and then half an hour in a diner, until I dumped my coffee on his head.

Incidentally, I'm also annoyed at him for dumping a very gooey piece of chocolate cake on my head in retaliation. I wasn't aggravatingly singing at him, so I honestly consider this an unprovoked – oh, alright, a barely-provoked – attack.

I'm also not particularly thrilled with Acne (who, for some reason joined us for coffee once we reached Florida instead of going away) for taking a photo and informing us with a grin that it was for Mr. Joker. After all, some men like that sort of thing, don't-you-know?

However, Nancy and Yomiko seemed to get a good deal of amusement out of it; Nancy whispered something to Yomiko, indicating the chocolate icing dripping down my nose, and Yomiko turned bright pink and giggled softly.

Oh, dear; I have the feeling that their 'pillow-fighting' will be done with especial fervour, especially considering the purchase Nancy made before we left: a small jar of chocolate body paint.

I do wonder if this day would cease to become more traumatizing with each second, if I went to sleep.

Am going to try it.

Good night.

Well! That was an exercise in failure!

I shall attempt to explain, calmly and coolly, what exactly happened.

Hold on; this may take a moment of preparation. I'm still shaking with embarrassment and seeing red with anger at the ghastly stupidity of seemingly everything that happens to me.

Bloody universe.

You see, due to the need for much greater mobility than that of a rental car while exploring the Bermuda Triangle, our good, Elvis-singing friend, Acne (whose real name, by the way, is Benny) is to be a much larger part of this mission than 'drop us of and bugger off for a few days, there's a good lad'.

A pity, really.

His being a larger part of this mission means that he will be spending all his time with us.

Including at night.


And since it is apparently inappropriate to have a man rooming with two women, Acne (I just can't seem to call him anything else) has been placed with Drake and me.

You needn't think I don't see the faltering logic in this; it's just easier to ignore it.

At any rate, I didn't learn of this development until I woke up to find myself grabbing poor Drake in an awkward place.

Now, if I had been smart, I would have simply removed my hand and slept in the bathtub or something. I would have been away from both Drake and Acne, and I would have automatically gained first dibs on the shower in the morning!

However, it is a somewhat startling experience to wake up from a dream of one's boss (never mind what we were doing!) to find oneself in the process of removing an entirely different man's clothing.

Thank goodness I woke up when I did.

Still, I wish I had been able to control the urge to scream bloody murder and wake up both men.

Poor Drake. He's probably still a little deaf in his left ear.

When I asked as calmly as I think is reasonable in such a situation why on earth he was here, he snorted and said that he had tried to share a bed with Acne, who had done much the same thing to him, and that if he had to have any sleeping person try to undress him in a dream-state, he'd rather it be a girl at least, thank-you-very-much.

I have decided to let him live, as this is a rather good point, and he has kindly refrained from suggesting that Acne and I share a bed to see what happens.

And so, dear diary, I will now endeavour to go to sleep as peacefully and comfortably as doing so in the bathtub will permit me.

Oww…

Your faithful servant,

Wendy.

End Notes: Heh-heh-heh…ugh. I don't think this chapter really went anywhere. Of course, considering the rest of the story, this mightn't be anything out of the ordinary. At any rate, I hope it was fun despite its utter "nonsequitiness." :o)