Tzimmes Cracked Corn (And I Don’t Care)
A Spontoon Island story
© 2022 Walter Reimer
(Characters courtesy of M. Mitch Marmel, J.T. Urie and E.O. Costello. Thanks!)

Thumbnail art by  turnbolt


26.



Allan:

The morning was a fine one, so I was out walking after an early breakfast. After watching the sun come up, I bought a paper and took a seat on a bench to read it.

By a complete coincidence, the bench was situated on a side street that gave me a clear view of the street on which the New Haven Embassy was situated. The street was oriented north-south, with the Embassy roughly in the middle on the northbound lane (the Spontoonies follow the British philosophy of driving on the left).

The paper was pretty good, and after reading it I decided to do the crossword puzzle. And, of course, I coincidentally had the stub of a pencil in my pocket for just that purpose.

I was beginning the puzzle when the first truck, owned by a chimney sweep, rolled up to the gate of the New Haven Embassy at about 0810 (all times are approximate, taken by my Bullova watch). The two guards stepped out onto the sidewalk, and there was a loud discussion between the driver and the guards as the driver’s assistant started getting brushes, a ladder, and a roll of tarpaulin out of the vehicle.

While the driver and the guards argued, another chimney sweep showed up at 0830, likely a competitor based on the first crews’ reaction. An argument ensued, but the trucks began to get hemmed in with the arrival of carts bearing everything from coal to fresh vegetables to fish, starting at 0835 and up to 0915. At that time more carts and wagons began to show up from various bakers and confectioners from Casino Island.

A succession of lawyers, doctors and several priests also arrived, which I imagine caused a great deal of consternation among the Embassy staff. New Haven is, after all, officially atheist. By listening carefully as word of mouth passed from fur to fur, I gathered that these people had arrived at the news that someone in the Embassy was dying.

Probably apoplexy.

Six burly furs carrying a baby grand piano arrived at about ten o’clock.

Having so many people and vehicles on one small stretch of road attracts a crowd, and one duly showed up, effectively blocking the entire street. Some of the onlookers began haggling for the sale of the wares brought by the various fishmongers, tailors and other tradespeople, and soon a brisk open-air market arose in the street.

One or two furs decided to stand on my bench to see what was going on, and I obligingly moved over for them.

At roughly 1130 the gates of the Soviet embassy opened, and a rather large limousine presented itself, but wasn’t able to get into the street despite loud honks from its horn and shouts from the guards and staff. The shouts were in Russian, which I imagine the Spontoonies couldn’t understand, although if they did, I wager they would have been highly offended. The limousine retreated and the gates swung shut at about 1145.

Twelve o’clock marked the arrival of the Spontoonie Interior Minister, along with several uniformed members of the Constabulary. By then, I had purchased some very tasty fried fish from a vendor who had set up shop on the northern edge of the impromptu market, and while the crowd was slowly broken up and moved away I ate my lunch. I saw the Interior Minister greet the Soviet Ambassador at his Embassy’s gate, and a brief conversation ensued with the aid of an interpreter.

By the time the street was successfully cleared at about 1345, I had finished my lunch and my crossword puzzle, and walked away in an easterly direction. I would take a roundabout route to the taxi rank, meet Vee there, and head back to our hotel.

All in all, top marks to Agent Fawnsworthy.


***


Vee:

I have got to admit, I am impressed.

And this is from the Minkerton’s agent who, with Agent Ritterherz’s assistance, precipitated a major riot in some town in Colorado by spilling one keg of beer. All necessary, I will confess, and the mission was successful.

I’ll tell you about it sometime. Maybe.

One of the six furs who brought the piano started playing it, adding some jazz and ragtime notes to the carnival atmosphere. Things were going quite well, with rampant capitalism being perpetrated right in the faces of the Red Fist types holed up in the Embassy. I could imagine the more hard-core ideological types getting the vapors watching the outrageous display of commerce, with money blatantly exchanging paws.

I couldn’t stop laughing as several huntresses, as the Spontoonies call working girls, showed up to join in. Very attractive, displaying the benefits of a healthy diet and lots of exercise. Some of the remaining tourists appeared, a few taking photographs (I was careful to avoid getting in shot) and a few started chatting up the huntresses. The noise was great, echoing around between the target and the walled enclosures of the Soviet and the Tsarist legations.

When the police showed up and began dispersing the crowd, I joined part of it and got away without attracting any notice. I took a different taxi back to Casino Island, and I caught up with Allan in the lobby at Shepherd’s.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Interested in lunch?”

“Smells like you’ve already had some,” I replied. “But yes. Let’s go eat.” We linked arms and walked into l’Etoile.


***


Athena:

I’d heard that something might be up over at the Embassy. What was interesting is that I didn’t hear it from Willow. I heard it from P’ina, and the fox was very cagey about it. He let me know that it might be better if I didn’t go out until later in the afternoon.

Well, it sounded like good advice, and I was downstairs when I started hearing horns honking and people shouting. Not on the street in front of the house, but behind us.

Jacob was at the hospital, doing his daily rounds, so the noise wouldn’t bother him in his surgery.

I went upstairs to our bedroom and looked out the window that faced the New Haven Embassy. Really couldn’t see much, but I could hear plenty. Lots of people, some horns.

Sounded like one heck of a party.

Things finally died off around lunchtime.


***


Willow:

“Thank you very much, Sarge.”

Brush gave me a grin. “T’ink nothin’ of it. My cousins made out really well, so they tells me.”

I grinned. “Great.”

For plausible deniability, Reggie, Tommy and I were spending most of the morning on the beach, with Sophia tending to our fawn if he needed a change from her position under a huge umbrella. Tommy seemed to be about as happy as a seven-month old can be.

Reggie appeared to be enjoying himself, too. He’d broken out his banjolele and was strumming his way through Livin’ in the Sunlight, Lovin’ in the Moonlight among other tunes.

My buck had come upstairs before dinner last night with some rather interesting news. While balked in his business deal with the Spontoonies, he’d spent an hour down in the bar talking with a government official from Tillamook, the country to the east and northeast of Spontoon. There was cause for optimism, and his change in mood was evidence of that.

We had been discussing packing up, going back to the hotel, and having lunch when Sergeant Brush strolled by. Heh, yeah, ‘strolled by,’ and we had a chance to chat.

I had been prepared to pay quite a few of the fox’s cousins, but from what he told me most of them had done well and a few had turned a tidy profit from the prank. The outdoor market had been my idea, as the original idea was well over a hundred years old and only suited for a major city like London. Old as the idea was, though, meant that no one could possibly be expecting it.

“Great,” I said. “I’m glad that I could stimulate the economy, in my own small way.”

“Yez did good. Glad I’m on yer side. That yer fawn?” he asked, craning to see as Sophia came up the beach with Tommy in her arms.

“Handsome little guy,” Brush said, lifting his hat briefly as Sophia went by. The mare gave him a short, simple nod as she moved past him. When she’d passed he said to me, “A few o’ my cousins didn’t wanna get paid.”

“Oh?”

“Heh, yeah. Said since it was a prank on dem idjits from New Haven, they’d do it fer free.”

I had to laugh at that.

Another fox walked by, remarkable in that his muzzle seemed slightly misshapen, and hailed Brush in Spontoonie as he moved past.

Brush waved, and Reggie asked, “Who’s that?”

“Him? That's me cousin Stu. He's got a nose dat's busted, permanent-like.”

“How does he smell?”

“Don't ya start wit' me.”

I went to follow Sophia, so neither of them could see my grin. I managed to keep from laughing until I was out of earshot.





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