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  heywulf


38.


Wednesday October 5, 1938

Willow:

I gave Rosie a long hug and kissed her on her cheek. Reggie stood nearby, talking with Sergeant Brush while Da nuzzled Tommy, and all around us people bustled about. At the far end of the quay at Spontoon Eastern Island sat the Shoshone Skypaths flying boat that was going to be taking Da and Rosie to Tillamook for their honeymoon. “Take care of him – Mom,” I said to Rosie as we parted, and I stuck my tongue out at her as she harrumphed.

Rosie soon had her paws full as Da very gingerly passed Tommy off to her, and while she nuzzled and fussed over my son, I hugged Da. He embraced me and stroked my ears as I said, “Take care, Da.”

He kissed me on the cheek. “I will. Reggie?” He let go of me and shook paws with my buck. “Will you two be able to come back next year?”

Reggie and I looked at each other. “I think we can manage it,” Reggie said.

“You’d better,” Rosie said as she gave Tommy back to me.

“I should think so,” and I grinned. “I want to meet my stepsister.”

Rosie leaned in. “Remember, spotted fawns.”

I grinned.

Da turned to Brush and shook his paw. “Sergeant.”

“Sir. I’ll hold down th’ fort for you.”

“Good.” He glanced at me before saying to Brush, “And I look forward to a full report about everything that’s been going on over the past month.” He shifted his cane in his one paw, linked arms with Rosie, and they set off down the quay toward the waiting flying boat.

I looked at Brush, and the fox shrugged. “That’s Ol’ Black Magic fer yez.”

We all moved back to join the rest of the furs who were there to see the plane off as it started its engines and a towboat came up to move it into the lagoon. Reggie slipped an arm around my shoulders while we lingered to see the plane take off.

“Well, they’re off then,” Reggie said.

“Thank God,” I said fervently. “When are we going?”

“I’ll let Zephyr’s crew know to get the plane ready,” Reggie said, “if Lodge hasn’t already told them,” and we both chuckled. “I’ll need to settle a few things before we go, so – Friday?”

“Sounds good.”


***


Reggie:

The next day, I headed over to the Grand. The crew of the company’s flying boat had assured me that everything was ship-shape and in Bristol fashion to get everyone safely from Spontoon to Hawaii, and from there to Long Beach. I wasn’t too clear on what ‘Bristol fashion’ was, but I trusted that the pilots knew what they were doing.

As soon as I entered the casino at the hotel, I noticed a certain defeated air among the assorted punters gathered around the Tote. Still, their loss is my gain, so I bustled up to the counter and said in a jocular tone, “What ho, what ho, what ho! I, the one and the thankfully only Reggie Buckhorn, am scheduled to leave these sun-kissed islands, and in anticipation of the said departure I have come to settle my bet.”

Perhaps a little over-enthusiastic, but I felt a bit triumphant.

Contributing to that feeling was the odds I saw posted. Ten to one, against.

The fellow behind the counter gave me a look. “Mr. Buckhorn, the Riot Squad was called out – “

“Tut-tut! I was the one who summoned them, my good man, and the constable who took my statement remarked upon the novelty of me being sober,” I said, and the fellow’s glum look grew glummer.
Is ‘glummer’ a word? I’ll have to check the O.E.D.

Several whispered conversations ensued, and it was with drooping ears and tail that the punter opened a strongbox and counted out one thousand good-looking English pounds. That amount was duly forked over to Yours Truly. “There you go, Mr. Buckhorn.”

“Wait a moment.”

“Huh?”

“I also put in a bet for a friend of mine, the bartender at the Shepherd’s.”

“Oh yeah.” Another set of whispers, another opening of the aforementioned strongbox, and the tidy sum of one hundred pounds was also given to me.

“A pleasure doing business with you chaps,” I said cheerfully as I left the casino, leaving behind deflated hopes and gloomy expressions.

Back at Shepherd’s, I requested an audience with Mr. Lupino, and was kept waiting for a few minutes before that worthy could finish what he was doing.

When the wolf came up to me, he looked somewhat wary. “Hello, Mr. Buckhorn,” he said as he opened his office and let me in.

“Hello, Mr. Lupino. I and my family will be leaving tomorrow, and I wanted to settle accounts with you before I left.”

That made him blink, and I almost thought it was because he expected me to slip out of town without paying. Well, that would simply be Not Done. A Buckhorn always pays his debts.

So he called for his accountant, and the two watched as I counted out seven hundred fifty pounds, in cash, and said, “This should settle the amount for breakage.” I smiled as the accountant counted the money and wrote out a receipt for me.

When this was done, I extended a paw, and Lupino took it. “A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Lupino.”

“Dan.”

“Reggie. Since we’ll be leaving tomorrow, I’ll say goodbye now, and let you know that we’ll be back next year.” I smiled. “And hopefully there won’t be any damage.”

Lupino laughed. “Let’s think happy thoughts about that, Reggie.”

Despite still being under repair, the Long Bar was open for business. The huge mirror over the bar was a total loss, but as I leaned against the bar (which creaked alarmingly but supported my weight) a pair of small horns poked up. “Señor?”

“Hello, Fausti! I’m pleased to see that a night in jail hasn’t caused you any trouble.”

There was a soft chuckle. “Oh, Señor, do not trouble yourself for Fausti. Fausti has seen the inside of many a jail.”

“Er, yes, I suppose so. Still, this ought to add a bit more luster to your day,” and with that I gave him his winnings.

The pudu appeared (as far as I could tell) to be extremely pleased by this. “Ah, Señor, you gladden the heart of Fausti. The dinero will be very useful.”

“Oh?”

“Si. Fausti broke his bung-starter during the fight. A new one must be purchased.”

I laughed before ordering a cold lager. I figured that one beer wouldn’t cause me any trouble. “To your health, Fausti.”

“Gracias, Señor. It was a wonderful fight, against those revisionist cabrones.” I fancied I could see him stick out his chest. “Éramos los buenos. Ellos eran los malos. E hicieron un golpe más gratificante cuando golpearon el suelo.”

I couldn’t understand a word he said, but I heartily agreed with the sentiment.


***


Brush:

It was a coupla days after th’ Inspector an’ his wife left, in fact th’ same day th’ Buckhorns left, an’ I get called upstairs ta talk wit’ Chief Sapper.

Seems that, fer once, th’ Foreign Ministry had decided ta get off their tails, an’ they were deportin’ th’ Red Fist guys who were takin’ up space in th’ jail and stinkin’ up th’ place. An’ oh lucky me, I got told off ta lead th’ escort that would take ‘em from th’ jail to th’ Ol’ China Dock on Casino. They was gonna get put on a slow boat back ta New Haven.

Now, I ain’t got no trouble wit’ that, see? But I had a question.

“What about the rest of the guys in the Embassy, Sir?”

Good question, amiright?

Chief Sapper sez, “They’ll remain where they are. The Althing’s already warned them that if they do anything else, their Embassy will be closed and they’ll all get deported.”

Well, that was okeh.

A coupla days later, we bring th’ boys outta th’ jail, all pawcuffed together, wit’ constables all around ‘em an’ me an’ onea th’ Foreign Ministry guys – onea my cousins – right next ta me. Word had got around, so we started drawin’ a crowd o’ Spontoonies.

They kept their distance, although there was a lotta pointin’ an’ jeerin.’

Th’ Red Fist boys kept their yaps shut while they got loaded onta a coupla water taxis, an’ they stayed shut up till we got ta th’ Old China Dock. There was th’ Foreign Minister hisself there, lookin’ angry, an’ a steamer cap’n at th’ base of his gangplank, lookin’ happy.

Guess it was costin’ th’ Althing a pretty penny ta get these yeggs off Spontoon.

Anudder crowd was gatherin’ at th’ dock while we moved th’ pris’ners off th’ water taxis and up th’ gangway, where we took th’ pawcuffs off them an’ let th’ ship’s crew take ‘em below. I figger th’ cap’n’ll put ‘em ta work once they’re outta sight o’ land.

As soon as we’re all off th’ ship, th’ cap’n gets aboard. Th’ gangplank comes up, an’ a red pennant goes up. That means that it’s carrying dangerous stuff, which I s’pose is true. It gets cast off, an’ as th’ ship starts movin’ away a big group o’ femmes show up.

Onea them’s sportin’ a big sign, sayin’ that they’re the Double Lotus Girl"s Glee Club.

Heh.

Th’ steamer sounds its horn, an’ the gals start in singin’ Herring Boat.

Heh.

Th’ Foreign Ministry guy who was wit’ me comes up ta his boss. “They’re off to Vostok, Sir, as you requested.”

Th’ Foreign Minister’s eyes almost pop outta his head. “What?! Are you crazy? I said Seathl!”

Th’ flunky sez, “That"s not what you have written here,” an’ he forks over a paper.

Th’ Minister reads it over, an’ reads it over again. Then he puts his glasses on, an’ reads it a third time. “You’re right. Damn my poor paw-writing. Well, it"ll sort itself out.” He gives a shrug. “What"s the worst that can happen?”

Heh.






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