"So, do we have enough champagne on ice?"

Phred closes the door to the walk-in refrigerator, and turns to face me. "Should be. Just as much as we had last year, and I'm not sure we'll have as many customers as last time. I told you ya should have advertised more. That Prancing Pony outfit took out a full page ad in the Gazette about their party."

"What, that new joint over in Dalrymple?"

"Not just Dalrymple. They're a chain. They opened places in Blackwell, Bresilico, and over in Greenwood, too."

"How did I not know this? Oh, right, I was busy trying to make ends meets running this place in the midst of disaster after disaster. Not that I'm bitter or anything." I stop a sec to catch my breath, and to let my temper subside a bit. "So what are they like?"

"The usual chain stuff. Very short waiters dressed as hobbits. Beer, mead, basket of carrot sticks on every table... It's a fad. Oh, they have a website."

I go back into the little office and sit down at the computer to check out prancingpony.com. There's a menu. My god could it be any cheesier. "Wings of Power - Try our nine wings for mortal men doomed to cry... with joy because they're so good." "Orlando's Bloomin' Onion?" I make some little gagging noises, and head back out of the office.

"Okay, Phred, you've got the bridge. I'm gonna head home for a bit, get changed, and then go catch TTT again, and some of the First Night stuff. I'll probably swing by again just before midnight. See ya then."

Phred waves, and I start to head off for the festivities, when a thought strikes me. "Phred, do me a favor, will ya? Give the good folks down at the health department a call, and ask them if they realize that The Prancing Pony's waiters are serving their customers while barefoot. Seems as I recall that's a health violation..."

Wings of Power - Try our nine wings for mortal men doomed to cry...

bwah.

"Boss...I got a funny feelin' in my head..."

"I told you not to mix cough syrup and vodka!"

"No, no...a lady's voice. Sayin'...she's not mad at you? She's here on business?"

Hm. Could be for real. Or, vengeful wench that she is, she could be callously using Penny B. as a Trojan Horse.

Or it could be even more devious.

Or not.

Or...

Aw, to the Seventeen Hells of Ripping, Shredding and General Unpleasantness (including Using THAT Tone) with it.

"Let them in."

There's a simple way to find a great place to move into when you're in a new town. Find the local master vampire and take his or her place. It's almost a given that there's a hotel, church, monastery, school, or whatever that was swallowed whole in an earthquake and is now a vampire lair.

With the sky suitable blackened, a few of the undead should be creeping around somewhere. Sure enough, I spot a soulless individual entering a leather store. I follow and corner the undead fellow near the discount rack. I shake my head, a vampire that takes price into account is a disgrace to all the undead.

I do a couple of showy tricks with flames and the spineless fool is all too glad to give me the location of the master. I leave a nice pile of ash as I go off to claim my new home.

I stare at Aimee in amazement. That was frelling cool! How did you do it? She answers with a modest smile.

We walk beneath the rising portculis as the suit of armor tips an imaginary hat. The massive teak doors open in unison and we are greeted by a being who can only be Hector.

I shake his hand, which seems to puzzle him, and offer him a small package of smoked turkey. He gives a rather mucousy grin, and ushers us into a larger room. I note that he keeps stealing glances at Aimee. I can't blame him. She's developed a golden aura - very flattering.

I caress Hector's cheek. Hey, Hec. Glad to know you can still hear me. Where's Miracleman? I brought a lady to see him.

Hector takes off into a hallway of sorts.

I explain. Hector is my half-brother. We are able to speak to each other through the bloodline. Although now that I've used it again, my mother will be calling. I'll have to activate the voicemail.

Before I have time to ponder Aimee's family tree, Miracleman appears and curtly welcomes us into his study. I note that the fire is blazing purple and giving off an odor of sandlewood -- a man who appreciates style.

Miracleman obviously wants to talk to Aimee first, but she steps aside and wanders to the fire. Having completely forgotten my rehearsed pitch, I thrust a package of smoked turkey into Miracleman's hand. Do I imagine it, or does he relax just the tiniest bit?

"So what's so urgent I have to withdraw my ring of fire to deal with it?" he asks.

Um. I'm an inventor, part-time, just starting out really. (Cripes, I did not plan it this way). Anyway, I have these things you might be interested in.

"Things?" He looks very, very bored.

Yes. Look! I pull two small, powdery spheres from my satchel and fling them to the ground. They immediately begin to fizzle and grow. I realize that they look just like nine-foot-high gingerbread men, only with grimmer facial expressions. The newly-made monsters stand at attention.

"What do you call them," Miracleman asks.

Instagolem! They're for people who want to play with minions but can't be bothered with the care and maintenance. They're supremely strong, completely obedient, and they biodegrade within 24 hours. I got the idea from an episode of The Tick.

Miracleman seems definitely intrigued, and Aimee is pleased as well. "They're really quite cute. Clovis would love them."

I feel myself blushing.

They're really easy to make once you have the formula down - its a secret, of course. I thought they'd make good stocking stuffers, or party favours.

Achmed the Clever knows better than to interrupt me when I'm working, so it must be important.

"Acmed, I've got Legolas proving to Aragorn just how bendy he is, what's so important?"

He frowns. "Sitt, I thought you were working on that novel. The one that pays you? That allows you to pay me?"

"Don't worry, kid, in this town, people will pay for Legolas/Aragorn. What gives?"

"It's the wrong time of year for biblical plagues, but the sky's just gone dark."

I look at the light well, where there should be at least a few rays of winter sunlight. Nearly full dark. "Weather omens said clear all day, right?"

"Yes, sitt."

"Crap. Anything on the dimensional breach radar?"

"Murmurs from the hell regions."

"Double crap with crap sauce. I was going to go party tonight. Guess I'll be taking the sword with me to the bar. Oh, Achmed, better leave the windows unlocked, never know when certain sun-averse male acquaintences might need a place to hide."

Achmed smirked. He's cute when he smirks. "Male acquaintences? Is that what they call them this year?"

"Orgasm friend, boink buddy, lover, the guy who leaves wet towels on the hardwood floor. Now leave me alone, I want to get this finished sometime this year. But let me know if any more ill omens are spotted."

"Yes, sitt."

I make my way into the strip mall swallowed in some odd earthquake and home in on the master's lair located in an place marked "Sears". The master vampire naturally has her minions surround me and starts with the "do you know who you're dealing with...blah, blah, blah" stuff. One circle of fire later and I have one slightly singed master vampire working for me now. Or more specifically, working for the demon lord I summon to run my lair.

With the demon lord getting my lair properly set up with nasty traps, unpleasent creatures, demonic wards, and matching furniture in an evil forrest theme; I'm free to start working on vengence.

"Interesting...very interesting...do they need water?"

Evidently not. And, she assures me, they follow your orders very precisely.

"Yes," I say "that's sometimes the problem. Getting them to stop, I mean," I say to her puzzled glance. "You know, you tell a golem 'dig a hole' and the next thing you know you're getting a call from an outraged Australian because your golem just came up through his den floor.

"Nonetheless, I think I can help you. I mean...I don't sell things, but I know a person who does." I jot down JilliVoiceofReason's number and the address to the Goblin Market. "Tell her I sent you and said she should take a look. And would you mind if I took a couple of these? For study and whatnot?"