Jumper Cable (4 page)

Question, which is how the bl**p do I stop my worser half from being so obnoxious?”

“I didn’t catch that word,” Wenda said. “An old what?”

“Fart,” Maeve said zestfully. “She actually bleeped most of it out. She even bleeped out bleep.

“As I said, I do not employ gutter terminology.”

“You are one weird harpy!”

“Thank you. Now I believe it is your turn, maenad. Why did you exclaim between paragraphs?”

“Because I agreed with you, harpy. Babies are abominations. A stork is pursuing me, because of an embarrassing incident in a love spring, and if it catches me I’ll be stuck with one of those howling blobs myself. So I’m going to ask the Good Magician to hide me from that nemesis.”

Haughty nodded. “You would surely make just as bad a mother as I would.”

“If not worse,” Maeve agreed. It was evident that the two were starting to get along, having a basis for understanding.

“And yew’re going to see the Good Magician too,” Wenda said.

“But why are yew perching instead of traveling?”

“Because the confounded path enchantment is out just ahead,”

Haughty said. “I am heavy-bodied for my size, and can’t soar at great heights, so must fly from perch to perch near the ground. That’s dangerous, so I follow the path for safety— and now can’t. I am explendiferously p**ved.”

“Peeved,” Maeve murmured. She seemed to have a knack for censored vocabulary.

“The path is out?” Jumper asked.

“You’re not much for attention, are you, spider?” the harpy remarked sagely. “Yes, it seems that a sphinx lost its balance and fell, rolling across a section of the path and squishing the magic flat. So now nothing remains but a fuzzy indentation and a frenzy of hungry monsters lurking for trusting travelers. Until it is repaired, no one can safely repair across it.”

“But we need to cross it,” Wenda protested.

“Then you must wait, as I am doing, woodwife.” The harpy eyed her. “By the way, I don’t recall hearing your story.”

“It’s a hollow one. I am fleeing civilization so as knot to bee made into a Mother Board, dodging village louts along the way. I want to bee a whole woman, knot half reared.”

“So your problem relates to males too.”

“Yes. Especially machine and human males. I am hoping the Good Magician will have an Answer for me.”

The harpy turned to Jumper. “And you are perhaps the strangest of this motley assemblage. What is your story?”

“I was caught by a narrative hook and dumped into this narrative. I am hoping the Good Magician can return me to my natural realm.”

“So we are all going to the same place. Perhaps we could travel together.”

“Why should we let yew join us?” Wenda asked cannily.

“I know a detour where the monsters aren’t lurking. It’s not really safe, but it’s feasible.”

“That helps,” Maeve said.

“Let’s take a look at that break,” Wenda said. “Maybee we can forge across quickly.”

They went on along the path to the break. It was merely a flattened section, looking innocent enough.

“I’ll show you,” Haughty said. She folded her wings and hopped onto the edge of the flattened area.

A monster zoomed across from a hiding place to the side, jaws snapping hungrily. Haughty leaped straight up, spreading her wings and flying clear. But a winged monster swooped down, jetting fire. Haughty barely made it back to the safe zone.

She had made her point. “We’ll take the detour,” Wenda agreed.

“That passes the Bra & Girll,” Haughty said. “I hate that place, because it’s where Hottie goes slumming. But it’s well traveled, so the monsters won’t notice a few more people. We can loop past it and take the unenchanted path that intersects the enchanted one farther along. It should be routine.”

“It can’t bee, or yew woodn’t bee seeking our protection,” Wenda said cannily. “What’s the catch?”

“Sometimes there are storms. Then folk have to stay at the Bra. It’s really an inn.”

“That name,” Maeve said. “Shouldn’t that be Bar & Grill?”

“It should,” Haughty agreed. “But the proprietor has a problem with his Rs. They don’t stay in place well. They tend to switch places with adjacent letters.”

“Even on the sign?”

“Even there. Now it’s established. It does serve good food, though. But I hope we can pass right by it. Because it would be better to be somewhere else when Hottie appears.”

They let her lead them on the detour. All went well, at first. Then there was a rumble in the sky. “Bl**p!” Haughty swore. “Fracto has noticed us.”

“Bleep,” Maeve translated helpfully.

“Who?” Jumper asked.

“Cumulo Fracto Nimbus, the worst of clouds. He exists to rain on parades, wet on dry laundry, blow important papers away, and make a complete nuisance of himself.”

“A simple cloud?” Jumper asked incredulously. “I am not impressed.”

“That’s his nature.” Haughty looked around. “D**n! I don’t see anywhere else to take shelter.”

“Darn,” Maeve said, once again filling in the blanks. The cloud swelled ominously, evidently having overheard their dialogue. Jags of lightning radiated from it, and more thunder sounded. Gusts of wind rattled the leaves of nearby trees, getting the range. The first fat drops of rain spattered on the nearby leaves. They clustered under a spreading acorn tree, but the storm intensified. Colored hailstones bounced off the leaves and piled up on the ground.

“I haven’t seen those in a long time,” Wenda said. “Fracto is really working at it.”

“To the Bra,” Haughty said regretfully. She led the way, flapping

ahead of them, pursued by hailstones. “Maybe Fracto will lose interest before nightfall.”

The others held small branches over their heads to shield them against the hailstones and hurried after Haughty. The storm hurried after all of them. A few stones caught them, but Fracto couldn’t orient fast enough to catch them with the worst while they were moving. Maeve turned back for a moment to stick out her tongue at the storm. “Nyaa, fogface!”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Haughty said. “Now he’ll never let us be.”

Indeed, the fury of the storm redoubled. The hailstones welled to the size of pears, bashing trees and ground alike. However, they soon came to the Bra & Girll, the sign exactly as described. The house seemed nice enough, and inside there was a bar for food and beverages.

“Hello, Haughty,” the proprietor called. “Who aer yoru firends?” He was a huge man, shaped somewhat like a spent volcano.

“Hello, Crater. We are going to the Good Magician’s Castle,”

Haughty replied. “These are Wenda, Maeve, and Jumper.” She was being careful not to identify their species.

“That would be Carter,” Maeve murmured. “It must be only one R

per word that strays.”

Crater stared at Jumper, whose species could not readily be masked.

“You look mighty big fro a spidre. Are you safe to be aorund?”

“Safe enough,” Jumper replied. “I eat bugs, not people.”

Crater returned his attention to Haughty. “They’er welcome, porvided they can pay.”

“Oh, s**t,” Haughty said. “I forgot: Crater charges for room & board.”

“Spit,” Maeve murmured.

“Orom & broad,” Crater agreed jovially.

“But we dew knot have anything to trade,” Wenda said. “Maybe we can move on.”

Maeve looked out the window. “Rain is blasting down outside. We’re stuck.”

It was true. The window was awash with water, and thunder shook the inn. They would have to stay the night.

“Maybee we can bargain,” Wenda said. “Crater, is there anything we can offer yew in exchange for yewr hospitality?”

The innkeeper looked at her, then at Maeve, who bridled. “Besides that!” Maeve snapped.

“Besides what?” Jumper asked, mystified.

“Never mind,” Haughty said. “You wouldn’t understand.”

She had him there. He had no idea what they were talking about.

“Maybe if you explained?”

“He was looking at their bras,” Haughty explained. That hardly helped. After all, this was the Bra & Girll. Why shouldn’t he look at such things?

Meanwhile Crater was considering. “Well, I do have a couple house wrokers who would like to visit the Good Magician, if they could just tarvel three safely.”

“Workers travel there,” Maeve murmured. She had become a general translator.

“Male or female?” Haughty asked alertly.

“Female. They’er nice girls. They make the beds, clean the oroms, peel potatoes, sevre the food, and so on, eanring theri keep while they wait. I think yoru big spidre might be able to portect them form molestation. Undrestand, they can portect themselves, in theri fashions, but that seems unladylike, so they hesitate.”

“Wrod ovelroad,” Maeve muttered, frustrated.

Haughty looked at Jumper. “This seems promising. Can we add two more to the party?”

“Let’s meet them,” Wenda said warily. “Before we decide what wood bee best.”

Crater put two fingers to his mouth and made a piercing whistle. In a moment two young women came down the stairs.

“Ladies, we may have a company to take you to the Good Magician’s Castle,” Crater said. Then, to Jumper: “This is Phanta, who can become a ghost.”

“In fact I have no choice,” Phanta said. “It happens in darkness.”

This was interesting. “Why do you want to see the Good Magician?”

Jumper asked.

“To stop Gheorge Ghost from chasing me. He wants to lock me up in darkness to possess me forever.”

“The lout!” Wenda exclaimed.

“He should be torn apart and eaten,” Maeve agreed.

“I have to keep a candle constantly burning at night, so I won’t get caught. Because once I’m a ghost, I can’t make a light.”

“You poor thing,” Wenda said.

It seemed Phanta was satisfactory. “You may come with us,” Jumper said.

“And this is Olive Hue,” Crater said, introducing a greenish complexioned young woman. “She can make imaginary firends with eral talents.”

“Olive Hue— I love you,” Maeve murmured. She seemed to have a talent for translation of any type.

“Now that’s different,” Haughty said. “But why do you need to see the Good Magician?”

“Because my imaginary friends are temporary. They fade out when my attention flags. I want a friend I can keep.”

“Can’t you imagine the same one again?”

“Yes, but it will fade out again. The Good Magician should know how to make them permanent, if I want them.”

That made sense to Jumper. He used several of his eyes to exchange glances with the others, then said, “You may come with us.”

“Vrey good,” Crater said. “Welcome to my humble establishment fro the night.”

Haughty winced.

“What bothers you?” Jumper inquired.

“Night is when Hottie takes over. I can’t prevent it.”

“Ah, Hottie Haprie,” Crater exclaimed. “We love hre hree.”

Which was, of course, the problem. Then a bright bulb flashed over Jumper’s head. “Maybe Olive can help.”

“With what?” Olive asked.

“At night Haughty becomes Hottie, who it seems fascinates men. But if she signals the stork, Haughty may share the mischief. Could any of your imaginary friends help, Olive?”

Olive nodded. “Maybe the Censor, temporarily.”

“Temporarily?”

“Someone always finds a way around his spells after a day or so. But one might suffice for one night.”

“Please summon him.”

“All it takes is imagination.” Olive concentrated, and a sour-looking man appeared. “Hello, Censor,” Olive said.

“Xxxx xx xxx,” he replied gruffly.

“Same to you,” Maeve murmured, translating.

“Censor doesn’t like anything,” Olive explained. “And all his words are automatically censored out. But I can understand him, because he’s my friend.” Then she addressed the man. “Censor, this harpy has a problem. When night comes she will become most indelicate. Can you keep her decent for the night?”

“Xxxx’x xxxx,” he agreed.

“That’s easy,” Maeve said.

“Thank you. Keep an eye on her, because night is approaching.”

“X xxxx.”

“I will,” Maeve said.

Crater served a fine eve ning meal complete with rhed whine and candy corn. There was even a fat July bug for Jumper. The man was an excellent host. Phanta donned a small tight uniform and waited on their table while Olive went to the kitchen to wash pots. The two obviously were earning their keep.

Maeve had to remove her wax teeth to eat. She did so, and tore zestfully into her gory undercooked steak. Several other travelers came from their rooms to join in. One was Gene Blue, a blue man with the talent of making blue jeans. Another was Jamie, a short chubby man whose talent was to make things heavier. Fortunately he didn’t have to; he did it only when something needed it, like a table that needed not to be blown away. Jumper noted that the

eyes of both men tended to follow the motions of the waitress, especially when her little skirt flounced as she moved. Maybe they were concerned that she not mislay their portions.

“You know, Phanta, you’d look good in jeans,” Gene remarked. “I could make you a really tight-fitting pair.”

“They’d only make me blue,” she replied, flouncing away from him. Again, Jumper feared he was missing something. These humans had nuances that were beyond the understanding of spiders. And as they feasted, night fell.

“Well, now.”

Haughty Harpy was gone. In her place was Hottie Harpie. She was prettier, with glossy long hair, perky tail feathers, a prominent bare bosom, and a challenging gaze.

“You’re looking blue, handsome,” Hottie said to Gene Blue as she hopped over to his section of the counter. “I’ll bet I can cheer you up.”

She inhaled, lifting her bosom almost under his nose. Harpies had essentially one anatomical feature of interest to human males, but that was impressive. There was a lot of good meat there. Not that Jumper would ever eat it, however succulent it might be. It wouldn’t be polite. Gene’s eyes widened, seeming about to crystallize. Apparently he was noticing her body.

Then something odd happened. Her bosom fogged. It was still there, just concealed in puffs of cloudlike froth. Hardly any meat showed. Gene lost interest.

“What the bleep is this?” Hottie demanded, her naughty word making the air around it glow despite the way it had been bleeped out. Jumper caught on. “You have been censored.”