the Dirty Dozen - Chapter 64

   Merry jerked her head to bring Panic in, and slapped the door shut and locked it as always. After scanning the faces staying respectfully back with her hard slit eyes.

   "Ooh. Is that… Skykid's gourmet campfire cooking?"

   "Either that, or, that FBI agent out there? Suddenly decided to poison you. I'm betting on Skykid, though, the smart money and all."

   Panic took the big platter to the bar, and carefully rested it.

   "The hell is all this?"

   "Robbie said, that Skykid said, that…"

   "Wonderful. Hearsay food descriptions. Inadmissible in court."

   "Yeah. Anyways, the hearsay is… the main dish? Is wild boar medallions."

   "The hell is medallions?"

   "Well. Remember I explained what deer back-straps are?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Well. This is wild boy pig. The back-straps? They don't call them that on a pig, I wanna say its loin, but… same piece of meat. Anyways, the big pig back-straps… are cut into coins, or… called medallions."

   "Hmm. Smells good…"

   "Well, thats Skykid for you. He marinated the medallions for 24 hours. Then? He cooks them. They cook fast, being so small and thin. One guy's helping him line them up, and the other guy's putting them in the roaster to keep them warm."

   "Wild boy pig. The bikers would approve of that menu choice…"

   "Then? This, is obviously salad. He uses anything but lettuce. Spinach, and believe it or not? Dandelion leaves, of all things, and sweet clover. Other greens. Mushrooms. Sliced broccoli. Sliced Brussels sprouts. Sliced and shredded cheese. I think this is a lemon pepper vinaigrette? With soy and other things. Sliced pork instead of a chicken salad. I actually hate salad, and I love his."

   "Christ. What's under the medallions?"

   "Potatoes. Carrots. Broccoli. Spinach. Brussels sprouts. He seasons the shit out of stuff, and makes sauces."

   "Please… tell me again, I do not have to learn to cook like this, to feed you in the cabin."

   "We went over this, honey. Boil water, can opener, hot grease, and breakfast food. If you can put salt on tater tots? I'll give you a special cooking award."

   "You and your damned tater tots."

   "I'm Irish. We do amazing shit with potatoes. I'm just not allowed to set foot on Ireland? On account of I don't eat cabbage. Apparently, that violates Irish immigration and naturalization law."

   "How do you love Brussels sprouts, and you hate cabbage?"

   "People keep asking me that. All I know is? I eat the shit out of young Brussels sprouts. Cabbage? Makes me wanna throw up. Rob says I can't even be an adopted German, if I don't eat sauerkraut, I can't live in Ireland. So? I'm stuck here with you, eating tater tots. Extra salt on the tater tots."

   "I don't see any tater tots. How will you survive…"

   "See the potatoes? That's what tater tots grow up to be. You plant the tater tots you don't eat? They grow up to be big potatoes."

   Merry dead panned him.

   "Can't we just eat?"

   "We can just eat."

   Panic was chuckling. He was seated at the customer's side of the bar. Merry, was standing on the bartender side.

   "What?"

   "You don't have to stand on the milk crate, when you're back there…"

   "That's because I'm not a little skank."

   Merry was shoveling food into her face.

   "Holy shit. Did Skykid go to… food college or something?"

   "No. It's his hobby."

   "Can Little Robbie cook like this?"

   "He's good with meat, and…basic dishes. He makes his own ketchup? He says it's a southern thing."

   "So. Uncle Mike and me? You… almost got us in trouble."

   "What did I do now?"

   "Well. I was running a background check on you. And Robbie. And Skykid…"

   Panic chuckled.

   "Uh oh."

   "Yeah. Uh oh."

   "Everything okay?"

   "Yeah. We got off with a warning. Uncle Mikey? Got his ass chewed out by phone."

   "Well? I guess you ought not to do that again then, honey. I thought I about told you stuff. To make it fair, that we both had a little coming out party to each other. The idea was, you wouldn't get suspicious and go digging."

   "Well? I went digging."

   "Hmm. Find anything interesting?"

   "You wanted me to look. You baited me…"

   "Did I? How did I do that?"

   "I had to remember your grandfather's last name."

   Panic chuckled.

   "What's so funny?"

   "Well… I mean, I tell you my grandfather's last name… and it's not my last name… some special agent you are."

   "Yeah. I finally got all your high school and grade school records."

   "Ouch."

   "Yeah. Ouch."

   Panic smiled and shrugged.

   "You said, you wanted to do a… head shrinking on me. After the night in the mirror in the little girl's room? I figured you were the 'path for the job…"

   "I took a stab at it."

   "Are you going to treat me for depression and anxiety? Two very popular choices in your field."

   "Yeah? No. What idiot would want to treat you for depression and anxiety, anyways."

   "Every doctor and therapist I ever got within ten feet of my whole life."

   "Well. Depression? I don't consider it 'depression', if you have a reason to be depressed. For instance… a loved one dies? That's grief to me, not clinical depression. There's a reason for it. Clinical depression? Is being depressed without a good reason. Besides? You're not depressed… now."

   "No. I'm not."

   "Because, you adapted. You like who you are. So? The depression symptoms went away."

   "They did."

   "The anxiety? Whatever nervous condition they thought they saw? Same thing. I don't call it 'anxiety' if people are being threatened daily. I call that, a normal reaction."

   "And you said I'm definitely not a 'path…"

   "No. You're not a 'path."

   "That's a load off. I was sweating that one."

   "Smart ass."

   "Robbie? Says that's preferable to being a dumb ass, I'll have you know."

   "Does sound like something he would say."

   "So. Is there a magic pill you can give me? To make me normal?"

   "No. I don't have a magic pill to make me not a 'path. You? Same deal. The only treatment, if you wanna call it that? Self awareness, and acceptance, and… adapting and coping. Learning to love who you are. Do you?"

   "Merry? I spent the first twenty years of my life, wishing I was normal, whatever the fuck that even is. The second almost twenty years? I spent thanking my lucky star's I'm not fucking normal. Again, whatever that even is."

   "What is normal? Is arguable too."

   "So, I get a clean bill of mental health?"

   "You do. I find you… remarkably… well adjusted. All things considered."

   "Did… my girl find anything else about me? Anything… I might have forgotten to mention? Online, I mean."

   "Like?"

   "Oh. I thought all your key-logging and IP trapping and logging software? Would have let you go anywhere I went on your laptop. I expected you to see… the real me. After I came back to the real world. What I want to be, not what I am."

   Merry dropped her food off of her fork.

   "How did you… what the---"

   "Honey, calm down. Relax."

   "But, how did you know?"

   "I didn't, not really. But… you told me."

   "I don't think I talk in my sleep. You do that."

   Panic smiled.

   "Promise you won't get mad?"

   "Go ahead…"

   Panic imitated a girly voice.

   "Oh, no honey. Don't use your laptop. Here, just use mine. It's newer and faster, you'll love it… here's my password. Go ahead, it's fine. I trust you… hee hee."

   "You bastard. Why do we go through these dances, then."

   "I don't know. You seem to enjoy the dance. I just go along with it."

   "Why can't you just brag, like a normal guy brags?"

   "My own father never bragged. So? I don't brag. I wanna be half the man he was. Plus? Robbie… says if a man brags, gets too big an ego? He'll go 'Waterloo'… Rob says, and I will quote him here… 'the difference between a good man, and a great man? Is a good bit of great humility'. "

   "I have a few observations, if you want them."

   "Shrink my head. That's your hobby."

   "Your adopted parents are dead. Your father? You seem to have imitated your role model."

   "I feel I had a good one."

   "Well. When your father died? I feel like, you went looking for another role model. You tried different ones on, part time… until you found Robbie."

   "Yes. Robbie? Is my hero. We went over this, dear."

   "But…"

   "Oh. A but. I like your butt, by the way."

   "Thank you dear. I like, that you like my butt. But… my observation?"

   "Yes."

   "Your father? Was half German. Half French."

   "Yes."

   "Well… Robbie is all German."

   "Is he? I never noticed. I'll have to tell him… he might not be aware."

   "Hmm. Funny man tonight."

   "I try."

   "You do. Anyways, your father was also half French. And? I notice you like spending time with Skykid. Who calls himself Frenchie. And Froggy."

   "Hmm. I never thought about that one…"

   "Really? Skykid was in the Air Force, just like you. You said you spent time with him, because you were both Air Force. Being… specialists for the recon group."

   "Yes."

   "Then? Little Robbie. Those two? Are inseparable. Polar opposites, too. A real odd couple. Your dead father, was half German, half French. You? Picked two best friends. One German, and one French. Both proud of who they are."

   "Hmm. You get… gold stars for that one. I never looked at it like that."

   "Thank you. Was that a compliment?"

   "Yes. You're good at something I'm not good at."

   "Anyways, if you were to sort of glue little Robbie, and Skykid together? You would come up with…"

   Panic whispered.

   "My dad."

   "Yes. You consciously imitate Robbie, I suppose. My psych evaluation says, you're attracted to military guys."

   "Sexually?"

   "Nope. Science girl says she has reams of data, on how straight you are. Attracted? You want to blend in. Military? You guys all wear the same uniforms. Eat the same food. Live in the same housing. And… the big one…"

   "Another big reveal?"

   "I think so. Whether you know it or not? All cops and military guys… have that famous military bearing. The famous blank face they all put on for show. You? Were attracted to that. I think so, anyways."

   Panic's turn to drop his food off his fork.

   "Wow. You really are good at this."

   Merry shrugged.

   "Thank you. I try."

   "Well? What do I really want? Or… what do I really need, then…"

   "Honestly? I think… you started out life as a spastic geek. Now that you have nothing left to prove, to anyone else, or even to yourself? You want desperately to get back to being a spastic geek. That's… just you, and… you want to get back to your roots. I think, that's the real… you. Underneath it all."

   "So… why do I like you so much. Why do I Love you."

   "Oh, that. Because you're a closet homosexual, and I'm so tall and strong, it allows you to explore you're latent homosexuality, without admitting to your perverted inner impulses you subconsciously deny."

   Merry started chuckling, and laughing.

   "I couldn't help myself. I had to try to get you…"

   "Well. I'm not the only comedian in the bar tonight. Maybe? I should go hang out with Robbie and Skykid, then…"

   "Oh, come on. Admit it, that was funny."

   Panic chuckled.

   "For, like, half a second? You got me…"

   "Seriously? Why do you like me, or… love me?"

   "If I'm not a flaming turd burglar…"

   "A couple of reasons. I kept telling you, that I liked you, because you were killing yourself, to help people you never met. You, are attracted to good, strong, rigid values. Under normal circumstances? I can take care of myself. You're not intimidated by a tall, strong woman. You actually like it. When I closed doughnut girl's eye? And scared all the women in town off? You probably never had a girl, be physically protective of you before. Plus? I'm simply a complete slut, and honestly now, what guy doesn't like that in a girl, right?"

   "And? The tater tots. You bought me the big bag of tater tots. If that isn't love? I don't know what is…"

   "If you're done being a comedian… do… you agree with most of my psych evaluation?"

   "No. I don't agree with most of it."

   "Really? What do you want to argue about. These things are arguable."

   "I said I didn't agree with most of it. In fact? I agree with all of it."

   "Oh. Are you being serious."

   "Yes. Thank you."

   "Well… you're welcome."

   "Can… science boy make a request, while dinner is still going on?"

   "Sure."

   "Will you… share the strawberries you picked out of the salad?"

   Merry smiled. Like a little girl.

   "Sure. I was saving them for dessert for us."

   "No. I meant… share them with me. Like you share your wine with me?"

   "Oh. Sure… can that be dessert?"

   Panic nodded, that would be fine.

   "Hmm. Oh yeah… almost forgot. Uncle Mike? Called you a spook…"

   "And? Did you smack the taste right out of his mouth?"

   "I corrected him. I told him I didn't like that word."

   "Good. Strange, though… Uncle Mikey never struck me as the judgmental, racist type. Plus? I have such fair skin, and I'm all Irish… how could he possibly confuse me with a black guy. You know?"

   "Panic? I think you know what I meant."

   "Yeah… I did. Merry? These words. Have… very specific meanings, and connotations. Mercenary… spook… I'm not any of those things. I never was, and I refuse to ever be one."

   "Really? A mercenary, is simply someone who fights for money."

   "No. A professional boxer? Also fights for money. A mercenary? Specifically does not care about the motivation. No motivation, beyond the money."

   "And a spook? A spook is… a fucking spook."

   "No. The word spook? Carries the connotation that a spook is a state sponsored assassin. Maybe even a patriotic assassin? But, an assassin. I never was, and I never would be. I was in combat. That's different."

   "Whats the difference?"

   "In combat? The other guy technically has a desire to kill you back. It's fair. He's an enemy combatant. It's really not possible to 'assassinate' in combat. To assassinate? Is to kill a non-enemy combatant. A civilian. A villager."

   Merry smiled.

   "I told Mike? Not to call you that. I told him, I thought you were a good man."

   "Well, there. You see? You pointed out my motivation. That? Makes all the difference. Thank you."

   "You're welcome. By the way? Uncle Mike called you a spook, in a joking manner. I still corrected him, though."

   "I have a poster. In my house. I like it… it's a quote? By a famous Greek philosopher. Thousands of years ago, and it's still as relevant as ever."

   "What is it?"

   "Any society, that separates its warriors from its scholars? Will have its fighting done by fools, and its thinking done by cowards."

   Merry thought about it.

   "Huh. Pretty much what we have today…"

   "Ain't that the truth…"

   "So. Mister Panic. While we're on the subject of… motivation."

   "Yes, dear?"

   "Will… after dinner, and I share strawberries, of course. After dessert… what… would motivate you? That… we get a sponge bath. And… exchange some bodily fluids, in the sleeping bag. Hmm? Uncle Mike says the scene is almost done. Tomorrow, tomorrow night, we're kinda penciling it in. This? Could potentially be, your last night as… my hostage…"

   "They do keep sending me in? To negotiate with you. I suppose, we should… negotiate."

   Panic, as usual, experienced his suspended time feeling while they shared strawberries while kissing for a good period of time. The mutual sponge bath was continued in the same slow and unhurried fashion.

   After the sponge bath, the negotiations began. Negotiations continued in quantity of time what for them was a "medium". Definitely not a quickie in any fashion, yet not really slow by any definition either.

   When they ended as unhurried as they had started and continued through, they were loosely in each other's arms. Not a death clinch, but not barely touching either. Loosely entwined, they enjoyed each others slowing breathing and half grins.

   They traded off being the one talking into the other's neck, and now was Panic's turn to breathe into hers.

   "Hun, I still have trouble believing this is as easy as you make it sound."

   "I don't do what you did, when you were… operating. Fireworks, is the normal operation for you. Combat. What I do, is combat… but without fireworks. Under normal circumstances."

   "This operation? Ran across some fireworks, hun."

   "Yes. But… once the fireworks part is done. Which it is, by the way. Uncle Mike gets to determine whether to charge or not."

   "I'm not accusing, I'm just curious of something…"

   "Hmm…?"

   "Not that it's any of my business? But… are we worried, that we have to keep this operation quiet?"

   "Well. Given a preference? It's always best to fly quiet, below radar. Attention is no operation's friend."

   "Oh. No doubt. I hear that. I have no ideas? About your… rules of engagement, or, whatever you guys call it in your line of work."

   "Me and Uncle Mike decided privately? That if people came to eliminate a witness, how was it any more or less legal for self defense to occur. At the base of the whole thing? We agreed that if Merry was a real waitress… and she was the witness they were attempting to eliminate, she was guaranteed to enjoy, let's call it… pure self defense. We bumped our heads together, and can't see any legal inroads to poke holes in that. Say for example, the name Merry were replaced with any other name? It shouldn't legally matter."

   "I admit, I'm no lawyer, but… I like the reasoning."

   "Okay, so… what's the difference if Merry testifies, or, again any other name for the witness. Are you asking because you're imagining this would be like Watergate, if the operation suddenly surfaced above radar?"

   "Maybe that's what I mean."

   "No. I mean, you can never 100 percent predict any given operation will never go tits up, and you have journalists beating a stampede. But no, this isn't Watergate or anything. But… what is going on isn't that unorthodox. The classic example they give undercover pool work at the academy? An agent in the field, that can worm their way into a bank robbery crew. If a decision is made to leave the agent under… why not charge all the other bank robbers, publicly. Who's to say that one of them doesn't escape custody. Goes on the run, so to speak. Perhaps they met other bank robbers in the process of pretending to be one of the bank robbery crew members. Why not form another robbery crew. Using the street credentials of being wanted…"

   "Sounds like more of an intelligence operation than what I think of, when I think of undercover work."

   "I'm sure that has nothing to do with the fact that Uncle Mike was recruited away from military intelligence. Once I'm offered self defense? I will refuse to make any statement until I get a lawyer. The lawyer? Will instruct me to say the following… there was an attempt on my life? And I stopped it. I claim self defense. If you want to charge me? I want to speak to my attorney again. And… since it's Uncle Mike handling the situation? Pffft."

   "I guess I'm impressed, that your Uncle Mikey? Is taking the output of one operation, and using it to enhance another one."

   "The longer he can play 'Merry' without changing her identity? The better. I've never been run by anyone else, so, I don't know really, but… the other guys that do his job? Nicknamed him 'the magician'."

   "Mike the magician?"

   "Magic Michael, is another joke at work."

   "And Uncle Mike?"

   "I mainly call him Uncle Mike. It's my own pet name for my boss. Once we get over this awkward part? The old operation folds into the new one. Like two pieces of paper to make one paper airplane."

   "Okay. I guess it makes sense."

   "Mm. Can we negotiate a little more?"

   "I might be all negotiated out…"

   "Hmm. Well… why don't we just do 'the slow' thing then. That doesn't even have to have… fireworks…"

   After a time, Panic was beginning to make noises as Merry described that state. When Merry's head had disappeared under the covers yet once again in the pursuit of performing 'slow' over her partner's body… Panic had asked if this was what undercover work really meant. He lifted back the covers thrown loose over Merry's dancing head.

   "That… that's not slow… you're cheating…"

   Merry gave him one of her expressive masks, and let it slowly "melt" while she looked him in the eyes. Once again, a unique thing he liked about Merry. He now knew the intense bedroom eye contact Merry always put through her, was her own face. The very thing that was supposed to be a fault in his girl's overall package deal, was something "unique" and personal about her. He liked it.

   Why would ordinary men be afraid of an intense look on the face of their lover? Panic liked most about her, the very thing that had been her "problem". She maintained eye contact with him. Putting on a series of her faces, and letting each "melt" back into her determined bedroom eyes.

   Panic gave her his omnipresent slight wry grin, and let it melt back into his normal stare. His mirror show, could only have the one main face melt into the real face to play the game back at her. He didn't have her impressive array of masks.

   Panic was a guy. His character he needed to develop? Was simply himself. No thought to acting and doing characters like Merry learned in her drama club hobby. The personality Panic slowly developed over all the years trying, was the bits and pieces of all the men he admired the most around him.

   He was like the small animal that roams around, bits and pieces of their victims glued to their back they carried around with them. Becoming self aware that he had an empty face and an empty body, Panic had assembled just the one character. He assembled himself.

   Sarcastic but polite about it. Prone to do silly word games or prance around like a kid, making a point. The odd personality of a zany, silly amateur comedian. Mixed in with quiet and polite. The range of faces limited. The basic slight wry grin was his centerpiece. He had a couple of response faces, nothing impressive and expressive like Merry's polished work. A generic surprise face, a generic smile and chuckle. A generic "don't go there" face.

   One character. The one he chose for himself. He did it for so long, not changed much, that it became him before he knew it. Under pressure? You got the same sarcastic fun guy. At ease on break? You got the same quiet, polite smart-ass. He was acutely aware his character was not perfect, in that it didn't invite praise from everyone.

   No, his personality he assembled was more for his benefit. The fact it passed only half muster in the general population? Meant that it worked, if imperfectly. Panic refused to just go below radar and avoid extra social interaction. He deliberately stood out a little. Invited some criticism and banter.

   When Merry was done with him, their breathing slowed again as they laid loosely entwined. Tired but not sleeping yet, Panic hinted to her she sounded like she had missed one thing, in her computer search before the laptop scolded her.

   "Hmm. Most guys just brag their abilities, so, you can catalog them if you look into them one by one, and judge them to be truthful and not making shit up."

   "The need to brag, to be considered more 'normal'. It's a negative personality trait. I refuse to incorporate it into my personal thing."

   "It's called an ego. You? Don't display any ego. Except… when it's about your geek side. That? Tell's me it's the genuine you in there. Coming out. Go on… brag a little. I missed one of your many accomplishments, didn't I? Hmm. It's bugging you…"

   Merry rolled over and up to gently pin him down by sitting up astride his hips, her weight leaning forward on her hands, palms pushing down on his shoulders.

   "Yeah. Fucking finally. A little bit of ego. The real you, you're still in there. Now… don't you dare put your face on. You leave it off. Yeah, that's better. Now… let me see your ego. This is good. What did I miss? Brag a little. We're alone…"

   "The computer programming. You want me to brag? That's what you missed."

   "I saw. You're a computer programmer. I saw you on a couple programming sites. What did I miss? I saw you uploaded running programs, to show they worked."

   "Well, one wasn't just me using a programming language. One of them? I wrote my own programming language. I use it."

   "Okay. I saw the one site, was… a new programming language. But, the owner? I saw his picture. It's not you…"

   "The guy with the sunglasses, slightly Mexican looking? That's just some random face picture I found on the internet. I'm on my own site, under another name. That's the one you saw, me logging in as a regular programmer member. Colonel Panic. I can't plug and pimp my own programming language. So, Colonel Panic? Me? Can join and write a few programs using it."

   "I don't understand the idea of making your own computer language."

   "If you're not a programmer, you wouldn't. Didn't you have to take a few computer science classes, to get college degrees? Didn't you have to run a little program? Even if it was say 'hello' and add two numbers together."

   "Yeah…"

   "Well. The… ultimate computer programmers? They can write operating systems, computer languages, shit like that. Anyways, there's this one language. Everyone loved it. Version 6 of this computer language? Was the stuff legends are made of."

   "What happened to it?"

   "After version 7 and beyond? It… got weird. No one likes it anymore. They changed it. Everyone misses it. When the computer world went from 32 bit to 64 bit? It got changed more and more. It's a different language now. I decided to take a crack at writing the version 6. From scratch."

   "It works?"

   "Yeah. I got the project up and off the ground. It's not perfect by any stretch. It only has all the basic functions I personally used and needed. Other people can now make other commands and functions. I get control so it stays version 6, so to speak."

   Merry pointed her finger at his face and chest…

   "This. This is the real you. That's why you have an ego for this stuff. The other stuff? You don't show an ego for it. That means it's stuff you learned and picked up. So… you want to stay in your cabin. Things like this? You stay up late for a couple days, working on them. How am I doing…"

   Panic nodded yes.

   "Hmm. I can live with that…"

   Merry slid down to kiss him. She stopped to mention…

   "I mean that both ways… I can live with that…"

   Then went back to kissing him.

   When she was done, she went back to sitting upright on him.

   "I meant what I said. If that's the real you? I want to see more of him. I want to get to know him. No matter how eccentric he is. All right? If you let me be myself, and you like it. The least I can do, is do the same thing back for you."

   "Sure. When all this craziness is over. When things settle down. If you think that's what you want."

   "What. You stay up late, on the internet, on your computers. Why would I mind that. Am I allowed to make you coffee and tater tots?"

   Panic smiled.

   "That would be nice."

   "Well… after some of the things I've had to put up with? A guy that's staying up late. At home, on his computers… I don't think I'll complain about that."

   "Plus? I go out. All hours. Just raising hell…"

   "I don't remember that part before."

   "Oh yeah. I always find a truck stop, or, a diner. Open all night. Meet other coffee hounds. I go out after dark on nights off. For coffee with the coffee crowd."

   "Where's the hell raising part?"

   "Oh. All that coffee. Dinner. Sometimes? A giant banana split sundae… all that caffeine, all that sugar. I'm sure I'll be a handful…"

   "You forget. I already know how to handle you. I have enough staying up late? Not sleeping? Going out all hours for coffee? Yeah. I know we have an audience now. I hate having people right outside the door when I'm trying to have a moment. I know I'm going to be away from you for a while, with the trials. But remember… when all this crazy shit dies down? It's not going to be too long, before we get our privacy back. For good."

   "Ooh baby."

   Merry had been sitting up on him, astride his hips, like she always did. She leaned her weight down on her palms on his shoulders.

   "Science girl says, guys working long hours is a constant complaint from women. So is going out all the time. You? Want to work as little as possible. So you can be home on the internet and your computers. Apparently, you also build stuff sometimes. You described a home lab, when you described your house. So… you'll go out shopping for tools and stuff. And work at home on your… thing… for a couple days? Hmm."

   "You'll put up with that?"

   "Sure. The two most common complaints from women about their men? Aren't an issue with you. Are you trying to spoil me?"

   "Robbie lesson. When something happens that makes you look perfect? Just smile and go with it. Act like you meant it. So… yeah, I planned on spoiling you, all part of my master plan to spoil you."

   "Those dead cops, the ones they hauled out of here in body bags. You wanna know what the psych evaluation was on them?"

   "Sure…"

   "Almost all of them? Cheating on their wives and kids. Out at the bars every night and every weekend they can. Next thing you know? There's suddenly a thing, where it starts. Usually in some cop bar. Their first deal. It's too easy not to take it. Money for basically nothing. That's how it starts for most of them. A small handful? Recruited because they're needed, but, that's the phenotype except for a few stragglers."

   "What would the chief say? Lying, cheating, bastards, out drinking all the time with all the other lying, cheating bastards. How could this possibly turn out bad…"

   Merry chuckled.

   "I know, right?"

   "So… you think tomorrow or tomorrow night?"

   "Yeah. Uncle Mike gets his big moment. You ready to get some sleep? Runs in my mind, I'm still in charge of that, mister."

   "What happens if I want to stay up on the internet all night?"

   Merry smirked at him. With her hip and leg slung over him, and her left arm snaked under his neck in her characteristic loose hug… her smirk increased as she ever so slyly slid her left hand up around his neck to ever so slowly clamp over his mouth and slowly increased the gentle pressure until it was a firm hold. Whispering hoarsely in his neck and ear, the warm and moist feeling he enjoyed.

   "Right this second? Probably… not too much, but… don't think for one second, that we're not going to be alone in our little cabin soon enough when this is over. Do we understand each other… hmm?"

   She used her clamped hand to raise and lower his face for him, to make him nod yes, playfully. Warm, moist, terse bedroom talk into his neck and ear.

   "Oh, yeah… I bet you do, don't you? Uh huh… so, get yer noggin jogging. What was supposed to… happen… that didn't happen yet, huh? Oh… that's right… did you think I forgot about our big night? Hmm?"

   He shook his head no under her clamp.

   "Ooh. I think, I need to start keeping score… you're not allowed to tell me no, and you just said no. That was a bad idea, right there. That's one. Then? Right after giving me shit about going to sleep? When you know I'm in charge of that? Ooh… that's another, that's two…right there… wanna know what I think… would be the smart thing for you to think about?"

   She shook his head yes for him.

   "You… are going to be alone… with a sociopathic serial rapist… and… you wanna know a secret? I'll tell you… I was already planning on one or two all new things, to do to you… and you wanna know another secret? I have… more waiting… you might not wanna get too many of those new things? At once… wanna know why?"

   She shook his head yes again.

   "Once I have those colored oil lamps lit? I can decide… do I want romantic rape night? To be gentle… or rough. Do I wanna date rape? Or… something more… well, you know. Remember your taste test, doughnut boy. I can have my clothes off, make it more fun for you… you know, mostly blushing. Or? If you insist… I can keep my clothes on… and the blushing can have squealing, too… and romantic rape night? Can turn into romantic rape weekend… do I make myself clear… hmm?"

   She shook his head yes for him once again.

   "Oh. Good. Now then… do you wanna go into that… with two strikes against you, already, up front? Or… do you wanna make up for that right now."

   She shook his head yes a final time.

   "Oh… that's a good idea. Now… I'll tell you what. Remember I did… slow? Then I… cheated? With my head under the covers? Yeah… If you wanna erase those two strikes? You get going on slow… then? Cheat. You understand? Good… so get moving on me… property…"

   Negotiations unexpectedly continued for an extra 40 minutes than had previously been planned, followed by a half hour or so of cheating. Apparently, the only kind of cheating Merry approved of.