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The Greyland Chronicles
THE GREAT VOTING WAR OF ‘99 CHAPTER ONE Sonja
Artillery shells slammed into the ground not far from Marnie's position, on a ridge
overlooking the pass into Avinada. She was tired, covered in dirt, her hands caked in
mud. She stared at her cracked fingers as she took a small bite out of the last
cucumber sandwich in her ration kit. The war couldn't last for longer than a few more
days, she was sure! It would go down in history as the Great Voting War of '99.
And she pondered how these fierce battles might be taught to future generations in her
beloved Greyland.
The taste of the cucumber sandwich, old and mouldy, reminded her of better days. Of
tea parties and adventures, of friends and birthdays. She reached into the front of her
fatigues, and pulled out a gold locket. Her thumb traced the intricate carvings as she
fought her tears, and the urge to open the lid.
Another shell exploded, closer than the last, and when she lifted her head after the
shower of loose earth and rock had settled, she saw Mary crouched in front of her.
"The new recruits from Tokalah Province have arrived!" Mary yelled. "General Erica
says we HAVE to hold this pass, or all will be lost!"
Angela felt ridiculous dressed in green and brown camouflage fatigues.
"Aren't I too OLD for this?" She muttered, as a light sabre was thrust into her
hand. She stared at it in surprise.
"What are we supposed to do with THESE!" Sasha whispered in Angela's ear,
and fell backwards onto Shannela with a yelp, as the light sabre burst into brightness
in her inexperienced hands.
"Hey, you trying to KILL me before I have a chance against those Avinadians?"
Yelled Shannela, and removing herself a safe distance from Sasha and Angela,
turned her full attention to discovering the intricate workings of her new weapon.
"Listen up!" The authoritative voice of Colonel Tina sounded across the band of new
recruits. Everyone jumped to attention.
"The mission is dangerous! The mission is nigh impossible! But remember, you are
Mgfans! The best of the BEST!
Make me PROUD!"
She turned on her heals, thrust her crop under her arm, and marched off to the officer's
mess, where, it was rumoured, there were NO cucumber sandwiches or Earl
Grey(eyes) tea, and where the upper echelons of Greyland military society supped on,
(could it be?) REAL food! The new recruits drooled and wondered what that would be
like. Wynona's mouth watered at the thought. Quickly she opened her ration kit. The
staple cucumber sandwiches and pot of Earl Grey tea stared back at her. A rage built
up inside her, slowly from her toes that were cruelly cramped into combat boots two
sizes too small, all the way up to her eyes, which blazed suddenly with a boldness she,
under any other circumstances, would not have believed she had.
She threw the ration kit on the ground in a defiant gesture. Silence descended
immediately on the battalion of recruits, as they stared in amazement at Wynona.
'Wynona the Silent', she was called back in Hero Province. 'Gentle Wynona', as she
was known amongst the few travellers who passed by her small unassuming home near
Loch Lurker. She stared at the contents of the ration kit, spilled out on the ground,
and her rage vanished, leaving her as shocked as everyone else at her rebellion.
She looked up into the determined grey eyes of Colonel Tina.
"Do you have a....... PROBLEM.... soldier?"
*********
CHAPTER TWO
Sonja, Lord High Keeper of the Celebrity Votes, paced nervously in the courtyard.
Occasionally she looked up at the clear blue Greyland sky, and her eyes rested on the
empty flagpole. The Royal Standard of Greyeyes was not flying, indicating that the
Hi-Greylander was not in residence here at Mooseheart Manor. The Heli-pad had
been deserted since their intrepid Leader had flown off last month, on a royal tour of
the 'Outside'.
Sonja sighed. How ever was she to explain all this to the Hi-Greylander on his return?
The country was in turmoil. The attack from Avinada had come swiftly and without
warning, and had worn the little country's resources to breaking point. News from the
front was confusing, and mostly bad. Sonja thought of her luxury apartment on the
Delchaney Mountains overlooking the border regions, and wondered if it still stood!
Her thoughts had progressed to a scheme to get the Hi-Greylander's loyal PA,
Vickie, to all the 'explaining' to him on his return, when she was suddenly interrupted
by a loud throat-clearing behind her.
"Ahem, Sonja, I'm afraid there has been another disturbing report from the front."
"Oh what now!" Said Sonja, barely controlling her irritation, as she looked at poor
Lisa, bearer of yet more bad tidings.
"Well it seems there has been some mutiny attempt!"
"WHAT?!" Mutiny was unheard of in the little country! Why, everyone was there
because they WANTED to be there. People followed the rules, because ...... well
they just simply DID!
Lisa took the letter out of her pocket, and cleared her throat again.
"It comes from Colonel Tina, and she says that the new troops refuse to march on our
traditional rations, and insist upon some decent food. Says here, although she is duty
bound to deal with this rebellion harshly, she does feel empathy for the troops, and has
requested an official investigation into the matter of troop rations." Lisa handed the
communication to Sonja and stepped back, wondering how the old vote campaigner
would take to this latest development.
Sonja stared at the report. She knew it could only have been a matter of time before
the new generation started questioning tradition, challenging the old ways, forging new
paths. But did they have to do it now?! In the middle of the greatest crises the country
had known? What was WRONG with cucumber sandwiches and Earl Grey tea
anyway! It had been good enough for all Greylanders up till now!
She was pacing again, thoughts tumbling around in her brain. "Well", she said
aloud, talking to herself but so that Lisa could hear plainly. "If they have a problem
with cucumber sandwiches and Earl Grey tea, we shall by all means change their diet!
To the kitchens! I shall make........... Frybread!
She stormed off triumphant, with Lisa, horrified, hot at her heels.
*********
CHAPTER THREE
General Erica was not one for negativity. She was a veteran of enough campaigns to
know that this battle could still go either way, and somehow she managed to convey her
enthusiasm to those under her command. Slowly a plot had been hatching in her mind,
and it was time to put it into action.
Her Formula one Ferrari was parked just outside her tent, and she looked longingly
at it as she passed it by and climbed into the Jeep, a vehicle better suited to the rough
terrain and battle-torn landscape.
"Where to, General?" Asked Snow enthusiastically from the driver's seat. She had
been recently and rudely drafted out of Lurkdom, but had decided to make the best of
it, with no complaints. Erica had appreciated this about her, and had immediately
made her her aide-de-camp.
"A special mission, Corporal." She replied. "Head out to the pass!"
Sam had forgotten how many times they had gained ground only to lose it again.
From the ridge where she was positioned, all looked quiet through her high-powered
binoculars. She did a thorough and slow sweep of the terrain in front of her. There
was no room for any more mistakes. She shuddered at the thought of the incident two
days ago, when she and Marnie had actually shot two of their own! Latest reports
from the hospital in Mooseheart indicated that they were both doing well and would
make a complete recovery. "What were they doing across enemy lines anyway!" Sam
muttered to herself for the umpteenth time.
Mary leopard-crawled up behind her. "Psst, Sam, important message from base
camp. You and Marnie to report to Colonel Tina asap." And she slithered off, lithe
as a snake, before Sam had a chance to acknowledge.
"How does she DO that!" Sam thought to herself as she watched Mary become one
with the terrain.
"Hey, wait up!" Sam yelled as she saw Marnie, straight as a rod, and stepping it out
at a fair pace, heading towards the strategic planning tent.
She ran up next to Marnie, and tried to keep pace with her. It never ceased to amaze
everyone how Marnie, small as she is, managed to walk so fast, and have such
boundless energy. It was rumoured that she never slept, and her physical strength was
legend amongst the troops.
The newer recruits scattered whenever they saw Marnie. And now a small band of
them, standing outside the officer's tent nearly fell over each other to get out of the way
as Marnie and Sam approached.
Sam stopped in her tracks to confront a strange looking Private, who's helmet sat in a
most precarious position on top of an obviously freshly done hair-do. Her eyes were
hidden by a pair of Raybans.
"What's your name, soldier!" Sam yelled.
"Sir, Angela, sir! From Tokalah Province, sir!" She yelled back as she tripped and
toppled, trying to come to attention. Sam circled her, scanning every inch of the
woman's uniform.
"Where did you get those shoes...," and she smirked as she finished her sentence,
"....Angela of Tokalah Province?"
It was a well-known fact that those from Tokalah Province were hopeless romantics,
backwards even. They floated around in a mental haze of mythical mystery. They were
certainly no earthly use in a real woman's army! But those shoes were pretty cute; she
had to admit to herself.
Angela sneaked a peak down at her feet. She had paid over 10 Gooches for her
beautiful green and brown high-heeled strappy shoes. And her toenails had been freshly
painted that very morning. She hoped to goodness the officer with the bad attitude was
not going to force her to give them up. She was just about to spill the name of the shoe
store, when the officer was grabbed from behind.
"C'mon, Sam! The Colonel’s waiting!" And the two officers disappeared into the
tent.
*********
Dispatch from the Front Marnie
Day 28
Well, today seemed to be a case of one foot forward two feet back. The advance has
ground to a halt ....and not just because of the efforts of the Avinadians, our own
moral has suffered some devastating blows, lately.
I feel in danger of being "fragged" ...this morning, when handed her new light sabre,
Angela was suddenly seized by the force, swung round in an arc ....and sheared a good
six inches off my hair!!! Either Angela isn't used to high tech gadgetry,...has become
yet another victim of the dreaded "Cucumber Psychosis" ....or I'm still the main
suspect as the "spy" we all fear is in our midst and this was her subtle warning.
"Well I am Minister of Hair and Lips ...so I was just pre-empting a split ends
problem I could see brewing!" was her unconvincing explanation!
Mary has been scaring us all with dire threats of a singing recital...normally we're all
keen to join in a rousing rendition of the traditional folk song "Black is the colour of
my true love's hair" ...but if a certain party could hear Mary his hair'd go white
overnight!
Around midday, General Erica came tearing up in her APC(armoured personnel
carrier) for a situation report and we were happy to give it to her, succintly...using that
old, military term ....S.N.A.F.U (don't ask!) She didn't seem best pleased but that may
have been because her Aide-de-Camp, Rachel, had succumbed to her, now famous,
motion sickness (brought on, no doubt, by Erica's road skills ...well she does drive
like a Formula 1 racer!) and had lost her cucumber sandwiches all over the
inside of the cab....and Erica. Fortunately, Lisa and Shannela hadn't changed the
combat fatigues too much (apart from a few opalescent beads and strips of strategically
placed leather) and so Rachel's unfortunate accident blended in with the overall
camouflage!
On the subject of uniform changes, Shannela has tried to convince us that 5" spiked
heels on combat boots are all the rage, "....Plus, they're even better for climbing
mountains than using stuffy old crampons* or pitons!" she told us exuberantly.
On a more sombre note, we're getting pretty low on munitions ...light sabres are all
very well for hand to hand ....but we want "stand off capability" ....we need something
to lob at them ...or, gulp, it's all over!...So send something ...anything or we'll never be
able to make that last desperate sortie and take the voting booth!!
Well, I'm putting this dispatch in Havoc's backpack as usual, I know it may take
some time to get there...no not because of his limp and he isn't as fast as he used to
be...but because he's a male and he has to stop every 5 yards to sniff and mark his
territory.
Keep the homefires burning!
Cpl. Marnie
*(or is that croutons, Nessie? Nessie has a problem with those two words and
assures me that she puts crampons in her soup!)
*******
CHAPTER FOUR
The lake rippled softly and sent it's private message to Theresa. She looked up from
gathering the mushrooms she and Nessie would eat together later, and knew that
something was amiss. Loch Lurker, deep and mysterious, spoke to her in ways the
others, from their busy provinces and cluttered lives, could never understand. She
listened now, intently; for the lake always spoke true.
Moments later Theresa burst into Nessie's living room. Nessie, paint spattered
all over her sea green gown, was high up on a ladder putting the finishing touches to
her own ode to the Sistine Chapel, on her living room ceiling. She heard Theresa
panting and out of breath at the base of the ladder, and was vaguely irritated.
"Don't tell me. The LAKE spoke to you again!" She said, and had to repeat herself
several times as, although Theresa had been resident at Loch Lurker for little over a
month now, and could apparently understand 'lake' fluently, she still struggled with
Nessie's Scottish 'brogue'.
"But Nessie, there is terrible danger." She panted. "We MUST drop everything and
start making Frybread! The outcome of the Great War will depend on it!" And she
scurried off towards the kitchen, leaving Nessie to impatiently clean up the paints and
mutter about 'strange Americans', and eventually join her in the kitchen.
Sam's mouth watered as she watched Colonel Tina bite into a tofu burger. She was
not a vegetarian like the Colonel, but anything would break the monotony of cucumber
sandwiches.
Marnie stood stoically to attention (Note to Marnie: Surely you made a mistake
in your earlier dispatch. You are not a Corporal. You are no less than a Captain,
M'dear!) and watched the Colonel enjoy her veggie meal.
General Erica paced up and down in front of a huge field map pinned to a board, while
her aide de camp, Snow, who had replaced Rachel after the unfortunate
regurgitated cucumber sandwich incident, was never more than two paces
behind. The General stopped suddenly and glared at Marnie and Sam.
"We have an important behind-enemy-lines mission for you. Double oh three and a
half, and double oh five and three quarters.......
YOU HAVE BEEN REACTIVATED!"
Chris was sunning herself on the rim of an old missile crater. She had her army
issue trouser pants rolled up as high as they could go, her socks pushed down as low
as they could go, and her shirt buttons dangerously open.
"Now THIS is how to run a war." She was just saying to herself, when a shadow
butt in over her sun. "Hey, MOVE!" She yelled and opened one eye a fraction to see
who would have the audacity to disturb her tan.
She couldn't make out a face as she squinted up at the solid black apparition framed by
the sun's rays, but suddenly she caught the unmistakable flash of light reflecting off
gold epaulets. Her stomach felt like it was full of rocks.
"Sir, sorry, sir!" She cried as she jumped up, attempted to do up shirt buttons with
one hand, find her hat with the other, and clawed at her rolled up trouser legs with her
army booted feet.
"Lieutenant, you've been...... promoted." Said General Erica, with little conviction as
she stared at the excuse for a soldier. She turned to her aide, leaned in and whispered:
"Is this the best we can do?!"
"Afraid so, Sir." Replied Snow, and shuffled through papers on her clipboard, as if
to verify her statement.
The General faced the young lieutenant, and sighed, "You're CAPTAIN Chris
now, in charge of this battalion. Hop to!"
Chris was shocked, but managed to salute, turned, and ran towards the camp,
wondering how on earth she was to follow in the footsteps of the likes of Sam and the
legendary Marnie! Come to think of it, where WERE Sam and the legendary
Marnie?!
The General watched her go, shook her head and muttered, "Ons het nie 'n donder se
kans nie!"
(It must be noted that the General originally hails from a strange country far to the
South, and in times of extreme stress tends to fall back into her native tongue. Be
grateful you cannot understand her!!)
*********
MarnieIt was the year 2049 and finally the classified Greyland Ministry of Defence documents werebeing unsealed. Sam III could hardly contain herself as the dusty volume was placed before
her. At last, she'd find out the role her Grandmother had played in the Great Voting Booth
Debacle of 1999. Everyone knew the outcome …but her family lore led her to believe there was
more to the story than the official version.
Her hands trembled as she pealed back the heavy leather binding and beheld a couple of ancient
maps, a strange magazine cover and several sheaves of loose paper. She lifted the first one and
read…..
"Dispatch from the Front"
Day 30
The problem with secret missions in Greyland is that they’re so darn secret even the
operatives don’t know what their mission is! As Sam, Havoc and I headed out on
our LRRP (Long Range Recon Patrol) all we were told were the co-ordinates we had
to get to before opening our briefing packages ….(otherwise known as lunch!) Some
boffin had the bright idea that if the orders were spelled out in "Alphaghettis" then
we’d be more likely to eat them after having read them …. destruction by mastication
being the standing orders.
We finally reached the map co-ordinates specified, and as Sam, Havoc and I gamely
licked tomato sauce from our fingers and chins we pieced together our objective….
Now, when I’d ended my last
dispatch I’d said…. "keep the homefires
burning" but it must’ve been misread as
keep the FRYBREAD burning! Sonja,
although a wonderful Lord, High
Chancellor was not particularly noted
for the edibility of the aforementioned
"delicacy" whenever she prepared
"Havoc, Marnie and Sam"it and, in fact, had been quite helpful to me by supplying the last batch she’d made
….to lay in the forecourt of my "Mountain Eyrie" …as flagstones!
Nessie, too, trying to help the war effort, managed …in spite of Theresa’s expert
advice, to bake a batch of, what can be only described as,….. "Curling Stones".
Apparently this had given the high mucky mucks …or operations staff, an idea,
though …send out a couple of fools …I mean …patriots, have them locate the
Strategic Command Node …target it with a laser designator and call in a fry-Bread’
strike!!! That should cause major confusion …scatter their command structure …and
maybe, just maybe, tip the balance in our favour!
So that’s what we were doing out here deep in Avinadian territory. We located the
target quickly …we just had to follow the sound of revelry (…well they had been
enjoying numerous victorious sorties and were celebrating that fact )….and the savoury
aroma of pizza and tamales (Frankie’s favourite food …and thus, the national dish!)
wafting over the countryside. It’s amazing how quickly a three-legged Labrador can
move when he smells food!.
Eventually, we notified HQ (after trying, vainly, to communicate with a nearby stream
to pass the message on to Theresa via Loch Lurker we gave up and used a
cell-phone!) Sam and I fixed our laser sites on the outpost …and waited for the
arrival of the strategic bombers …….."
It was signed merely, "M", and Sam III rightly concluded that that could only be Marnie
….the same Marnie they’d tried to commission during the "troubles’ …to which she’d tersely
stated, "Bah, I work for a living …I’ll just stay in the ranks!!!"
At least, now Sam III knew that her Grandmother had been , not only been part of the
denouement but had played an actual, pivotal role in the last few hours…and everyone knows how
that had all turned out!!!!
M
********
CHAPTER FIVE
The CNN reporter had never seen such chaos as his helicopter flew low over Andy
Airforce Base in Greyland. He instructed his cameraman to zoom in on mountains
of........ was that Frybread?..... being unloaded from flatbed trucks. Then he tapped the
cameraman on the shoulder, indicating with his finger that the camera should pan back
for his next dialogue:
"And so the carnage continues. Two countries, locked in a fight to the death. It is
only a matter of time now, before a decisive move must be made by either side. Who
will it be? It has been said, "To the Victor, the spoils." It remains to be seen what
those 'spoils' may be, and to whom they will go. This is Pratt Daily for CNN,
signing off."
The helicopter flew off over the Sea of Wishful Thinking.
"C'mon! Load 'er up." Rachel stood on a box and yelled through a megaphone at
Lauren's, Sonja's, and Mary's children, as they dragged load after load of Frybread
along the tarmac, and stuffed them into the belly of Greyland's finest bomber, the
'Illeana'.
At the controls sat the legendary flying ace, Lauren. As she poured over her
navigational maps she hoped to goodness that Sam and Marnie had made it to their
planned destination, and had set the laser designator correctly. Those two had been
known to make mistakes, particularly when it came to pressing buttons. So much
depended on the success of this mission.
Impatiently she climbed out of her seat and slid out of the hatchway to see how the
loading was progressing. Would this bold and inceptive plan hatched by the General
actually work? She picked up one of the frybreads as the children struggled by with the
last load. It was heavy. Indeed she needed both hands to hold one. This could just be
crazy enough to work, she thought as she heaved the round Frybread into the hold
with the rest of the load.
"That's the lot, Flight Commander." Rachel said, and held out her clipboard. After
Lauren had signed the issue sheet, Rachel stood to attention and saluted. "Happy
hunting, Sir!" she said, turned, and marched smartly back to the hangar.
"They're using my Frybread for WHA-A-A-A-T?!"
The Lord High Keeper of the Celebrity Vote's voice screeched from Mooseheart
Manor's kitchens right up to the top floor where Shannela and Angela, who had been
summarily sent home from the front after their 'Uniforms R Us' store (where their
logo announced 'Spruce up your uniform with our beads and feathers!') was raided and
shut down, had resumed Shannela's post as Assistant Keeper of the Wardrobe, and
were bickering over what outfit to lay out for the Hi-Greylander on his imminent return.
The sounds of pots and pans hitting walls, and glassware smashing to the floor
reached them from the lower levels, and put an immediate stop to their arguing. They
ran out on to the landing, and looking down watched people scurrying back and forth
with brooms and buckets and mops.
Sonja, Lord High Keeper of the Celebrity Vote came storming into view, screaming,
face red with rage, covered from head to toe in flour, and with poor Lisa struggling to
keep up, and ruing the day she had been drafted out of the 'Wardrobe' department for
this silly 'war', after her.
"Get me Colonel Tina, NOW!"
*******
CHAPTER SIX
Sasha trudged, exhausted, behind the soldier in front of her. She concentrated on
putting one foot in front of the other, and wondered how much longer she could go on
like this.
Earlier that day she had seen the little country's one and only bomber, the "Illeana",
flying overhead towards Avinada, and the rumours slid quickly through the ranks.
Some said it was a peace envoy gone to negotiate with the Avinadians, others said
the legendary flying ace Lauren was going to bomb the YKW out of them! No one
knew for sure.
The stories grew from the sublime to the ridiculous, as brave Greyland soldiers fell
foul of the greatly feared Cukeitis - a particularly dreaded disease caused by eating too
many cucumber sandwiches. The victims suffered from hallucinations, told amazingly
tall tales, and had delusions of grandeur, imagining they could fly in a strange tartan
spacecraft. There had been a terrible outbreak just that morning, and Sasha was glad
she had taken Wynona's advice and had chosen to live off grasshoppers, rather than
the sandwiches in her ration kit.
As the line of soldiers reached camp, a strange and wonderful aroma wafted
towards her and made her stomach cramp, and her mouth water. She hoped it was
not the beginnings of Cukeitis, and tried hard to remember when last she HAD eaten
a cucumber sandwich. The smell got stronger, and now she could hear the
unmistakable sound of something sizzling in a pan. Her foggy, tired brain tried hard
to delve deep into her memory - yes, that was it! The sounds and smells of fresh fish
frying!
In the kitchen of the Lurker's lair, Theresa and Nessie, up to their elbows in
flour and Frybread batter, turned on the radio for the latest news. They had just had
an argument about it. The radio, that is. Theresa said she could not bear to listen any
more, the news was never good.
"Oh don't be such a baby!" Nessie scolded her, forgetting she had lapsed into Gaelic,
and turned up the volume.
Theresa said, "What?"
Reception was bad deep in the lurker's lair, but Nessie felt that a tall aerial, such as
could improve the signal they received, would simply cost too much money. When they
discussed this, usually of an evening while Theresa wanted to watch CBS on TV
and could not pick up the station, the Lake Listener was known to mutter under her
breath in Lakota, "Yeah well, you'd consider a mere two BOOTLIPS too much
money!" To which Nessie would reply, "Well you seem to have no problems 'tuning
in' to the LOCH!"
Nessie fiddled with the tuning knob, messing soggy Frybread dough all over the
small radio. It crackled and sang high-pitched squeals, till suddenly Nessie found a
station. She could not get a clear reception, and the announcer sounded like she was in
tears.
"It's OVER! The long battle of ... (crackle) ...month ..(squeal) .. an end! .. (squeal) ..
Frybread bombings..(crackle) ..great celebrations...(crackle) ...overwhelmed! Awaiting
the arrival of the Hi-Greylander at Moose...(squeal) ...
Theresa could stand it no more. She reached over and switched the radio off with a
gesture of finality, pulled her apron off over her head, and said;
"Go pack - we're off to Mooseheart Manor!"
"But good grief!" Said Nessie. "We don't even know who's WON!"
*******
Then came the official announcement........
From "Annie"
Hi everybody (this message goes to the greyeyes list and Frankie's fan club president),
The vote is over, and since I won't get it online for maybe a day or two, I'll let you
guys know right away.
1536 Michael Greyeyes
1520 Frankie Avinan
RegardsAnnie
http://www.nativecelebs.com/
Announcement list:NativeCelebsNews-subscribe@listbot.com
Discussion list: NativeCelebs-subscribe@ONElist.com
Angela, Lady of the Beasts
Here in the Territories the drums are beating and the bonfires have been lit tocelebrate the glorious victory of Our King! A large contingent of the populace is
planning to make the long trek to Moose Manor for the official celebration!! Our
Outpost has sold out of furs, feathers, and leather as all are readying for this joyous
occasion!!
Lady Shannela and Lady Lisa have created glorious clothes as befits a great
victory. Their busy fingers flew through the night in order to have the most beautiful
creations ready in time.
We need to remove the grime and dirt from our camouflage clothed bodies- bathe, and
anoint ourselves with precious oils and lotions- anticipating a victory we hoarded some
in a secret cache because previously we had used up all the sandalwood and patchouli
on His Majesty's last visit to our humble province. He was most appreciative of
our ministering to him.
I shall deck myself out in my finest white elkskin, with turquoise beadings, place
thunder marks on my face and white hail marks on my arms, a lone feather in my
hair and begin the long journey to Moose Manor. To your unspoken question--on my
feet the shoes of victory!! The green and brown metallic strappy high heeled shoes(these
are sandals you understand) Perhaps I might be unrecognized and shown the servants'
entrance with my bloodied feet but I am like the willow tree-I bend but do not break.
In the loyal service of his Majesty, The Lady of the Beasts can endure all-even the
long trek to Moose Manor in strappy sandals!!
Angela
*********
CHAPTER SEVEN Sonja
The crowd of thousands strong jammed into the 'Walks in the Night' Stadium,
awaiting the arrival of the Hi-Greylander and entourage, in his helicopter.
The atmosphere was electric. The older members in the crowd couldn't remember when
last there had been such a celebration. Could it be compared to the exciting concert at
Sun City in South Africa, or even Mariel's wedding on Rarotonga? Some
definitely felt the same thrill that was experienced at Tina's birthday party, which
looking back now seemed like a lifetime ago.
Many were still not sure how such a decisive victory had been won over the
Avinadians, and there was great speculation amongst the crowd. Some were
convinced that it was thanks to the Lord High Keeper of the Celebrity Votes, who
had selflessly baked the tons of Frybread with which Lauren had bombarded the
enemy's strategic bases. Others felt there had been more mysterious forces at work.
But all were unanimous in the thrill of this victory.
Over in the VIP box, Ambassador Gin sat, contented and smiling. She had
returned briefly from her posting as Ambassador to Schweigeronia, to enjoy these
celebrations with her people. She found herself chuckling as she remembered the last
time the whole country had gathered together for a celebration. It had ended in a cake
fight! She hoped to goodness that Sonja's Frybread was far from the hands of this
crowd.
With her was Tina, hero of the people. For generations it would be told in Greyland
how Colonel Tina had taken such pity on the poor starved soldiers of the Great War,
that she had sent Mitch (the only male for miles, except for Havoc, and well, does he
count?) to go fishing. Mitch was such an experienced fisherman that the fish literally
jumped out of the rivers and lakes into his cooler box. He brought them all back to the
front, where he proceeded to cook them up using an old family recipe handed down to
him by his old Canadian Great Grandmother. The soldiers were fed, and Tina became a
hero.
As soon as the war was over she resigned her commission, and announced she would
run for Mayor of Mooseheart. She knew she had the people behind her.
A roar rose up from the crowd as all eyes saw, flying in swiftly across the Sea of
Wishful Thinking, the Hi-Greylander's helicopter, swaying as it was apt to do when
their great leader sang to himself at the controls.
The helicopter landed, the band struck up, and the crowd immediately launched into the
National Anthem, 'Black is the Colour of my True Love's Hair'.
Proud Greylanders yelled the anthem out at the tops of their lungs as the helicopter’s
passenger door opened and out stepped........... Frankie Avinan?
The crowd stopped singing, the band stopped playing. All except the tuba player who
hadn't noticed there was anything amiss and tried to play on for at least a bar and half.
But when she found she was playing a solo, her confidence faltered, and she ended
with a most unbecoming B flat that was ear-gratingly loud in the silent stadium.
As if nothing were unusual, the Hi-Greylander himself hopped happily out of the
helicopter, gripped the Hi-Avinadian by the shoulders, and the two walked up to the
podium, where the microphone had been rigged up ready to transmit the 'Homecoming
Address' to the whole nation.
Every Greylander melted and sighed as the voice of their intrepid leader floated to them
from the 46 speakers placed strategically around the stadium.
"My friends, and loyal Greylanders." He began. "First let me say how proud I am
of your achievements at the voting booth this month." But at this point his smile faded
from his face, and in its place came what Greylanders talk of fearfully as the
'Tarantula look'.
"However, I find I can't leave you alone for a minute and you manage to completely
destroy two countries! You have turned the beautiful Province of Delchaney into a
muddy, shell-scarred moonscape, not to mention the damage done to the Avinadian
capital by a certain Frybread blitz!"
The Hi-Avinadian, serious faced, nodded in agreement. The crowd started to feel a
little uncomfortable, and shuffled their feet. The Hi-Greylander continued:
"I tell you now that there will be a truce between our two countries. No matter how
'exciting' any future 'battles' may be at the polls, there will be no more destruction. We
embrace the Avinadians as friends and allies."
Some in the crowd started to mutter at this, but still, the Hi-Greylander had spoken,
and no one had ever disobeyed the Hi-Greylander! He went on:
"You may well ask, 'But what about the damage already done?' So you SHOULD
ask, and though you do not deserve this 'quick fix', let me inform you that all has been
restored to the way it was before the battle."
Everyone turned and looked at each other puzzled. Had the Hi-Greylander lost his mind?
How was it possible?
Suddenly Gin looked up into the sky, pointed, and cried, "Look!"
All eyes followed to where she was indicating. At first they could only see a speck
in the sky.
"Is it a bird?" Asked Rachel.
"No, I think it's an aeroplane." Answered Chris.
Nessie jumped up out of her chair and yelled, "IT'S SUPER MARNIE!"
Indeed it was their own legendary Marnie, resplendent in her black and red Super
Marnie suit, underwear on the outside, hamburger patties in place, and a little gold
locket around her neck. Flying alongside her was her faithful pooch, Havoc, complete
with MGM (Michael Greyeyes' Mascot) cape. They both flew a victory lap around
the stadium to loud whoops and cries. Eventually Marnie yelled in a 'super' voice.
"LET THE FESTIVITIES BEGIN!"
All during the great celebrations that night, Greylanders could not get enough of telling
each other how Marnie had used her super speed and strength to race around both
Avinada and Greyland, restoring torn earth and broken buildings to their former glory.
She had planted a whole forest north of the border regions, and tidied up Avinada so
neatly that Frankie himself was most pleased.
Everyone wondered where she got her powers from, and many more wanted to know
what she had done with the tons of Frybread that had been dropped over Avinada?
But she was not telling.
Next day the newspaper ran the following report, submitted by a mysterious reporter,
whom some claim is none other than that Hero of the Hungry - Tina:
"A grand celebration was held all weekend at Mooseheart Manor, and enjoyed by
all the battle-weary troops. We were honoured by the presence and performances
of illustrious Cree singers such as the great folk singer Buffy Ste. Marie,
folk-rockers Chester Knight and the Wind, folk-country singer Tom Jackson, and
Art Napoleon (whose music defies description). The Manor was rockin' til the
wee hours of the morning!!! The celebrations was capped by a special dance
performance Sunday evening in the Grand Hall of the Manor by the Hi-Greylander
himself -- who was noticeably absent during the battle (where was he, and where
is he heading off to following the weekend celebrations? Probably avoiding
having to deal with the Keepers of the Royal Wardrobe who want to dress him up
in outlandish avant-garde couturier designs of leather and feather -- he would
prefer his old jeans and flannel shirt and running shoes, thank you very much!).
The troops were so sick of cuke sandwiches and Frybread that they threatened
mutiny. Col. Tina offered to cook the feast this weekend and people adored her
innovative, flavourful creations, although they got kind of tired of tofu for
breakfast, tofu for lunch and tofu for dinner and threatened to strangle her if
they didn't get some real beef and venison. Her from-scratch pumpkin desserts -
pies, cookies, cakes, puddings, breads, muffins and Belgian waffles - were the
coup de resistance. The Hi-Greylander asked for second helpings of everything!"
Sonja
Thus endeth the story of the Great Voting Booth War of '99!
Hope everybody enjoyed it!Sonja
Marnie
Angela
Annie
and you!
