Cap Gun

Patio

Vagabond Blues

Went to get get my Learners Permit today {Won it first try, Badaboom!} and Dad and I went to vagabond blues afterwards.

The CWA of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #105: Doctor At Large

-=fig.655: it's a gif=-

The Jaguar sped along the rocky terrain, badly absorbing every shock.
  “Wheeee!” Capt. Brown yelled, he liked going fast.
  “AAAAAHHH!” Yelled Dr. Smith, he wasn't too fond of getting tossed about like this. In fact {He thought} If only there were some kind of…strap…holding him into the car… “OW!” he shouted. “JAMES!” He had to speak loudly to make himself heard over the wind “WE'RE TOO LOW! THE EQUALIZERS CAN'T HANDLE IT, TAKE US UP ABOUT TEN FEET.”
James sighed, although of course it went unheard because of the wind. The Higher up you went, the slower it felt like you were going. But he knew being this low and going this fast over terrain like this was much too dangerous an activity to persist in, so he toggled a switch in the vicinity of his left knee and pulled back on the newly unlocked steering wheel.
  They soared into the air.
  The equalizers finally met their minimum operating distance, and the ride smoothed out.
  As they rose a cloud of dust came into view.
 “What's that?” Asked Capt. Brown.
 “Dunno, But I don't like it. Take us down over there.” Dr. Smith gestured at the top of a nearby hill.
Capt. Brown Set them down gently and they got out.

-=fig. 656: the dust makers=-

  “Who are they?” Whispered Dr. Smith, kneeling next to Capt. Brown.
  “Judging by the flag they're the french army, but look at them!  All fancy and organised in their uniforms, this is not the french army of old.”
A soldier happened to look up. “Vous là-bas!” He yelled, pointing.
  “Uh oh.” Capt. Brown said, standing up and smiling. “They've spotted us–Bonjour, Bonjour! Comment ça va mon peuples amis! Stand up Zachary. Smile.”
  “James, you know I don't smil–Ow! Fine.”
A frenchman wearing a peaked cap who seemed to be in charge got out of the tank-type thing he was driving and started shouting at the top of the hill.
  “Descends de là à la fois.” He commanded.
Capt. Brown gave him a ten dollar smile, “Bien sûr, bien sûr. À la fois. C'mon Zachary, We're going down there.”
  “Down–No.”
  “Yes.”
  “No!”

-=fig. 657: being friendly in an effort not to get shot=-

“Bonjour, monsieur l'homme.” Capt. Brown said with a grin, saluting. He smiled as if this were the funniest thing in the world. 

 Corporal Chaton did find it very funny. 

  “C'est Corporels Chaton pour vous, des espions.” He said. 

  “Spies!” Capt. Brown said, forgetting himself. 

  “Ah! Legopolians. So you are Spies.”

  “Are not!” Dr. Smith said, defending his friend.

  “Then what are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere? Hmm?”

 Dr. Smith was a genius in many things, but thinking up stories under pressure was not one of them.  

  “We're just passing though.” He decided on eventually, after all, it was true. 

  “Tourists eh? And so where is your car then, Touristiques?

 Dr. Smith saw a problem with this line of questioning, but pressed on.

  “At the top of the hill.” He sagged slightly. He knew how impossible it sounded.

 Corporal Chaton took a long look at the ‘Hill’, Its sides were almost vertical and it was covered in scrub brush. “le petit espion” Corporal Chaton said “Does not wish to re-think his answer?”

Capt. Brown figured this would be the time to intervene. 

 “Corporal, If you send someone to the top of the hill, I promise you will find a genuine mostly fuelled 1935 Jaguar MK IV and in its trunk our passports and bags. This has been a pleasure, Gentlemen, But I assure you we need to get going. Zachary.”

  “Hold It. You are not going anywhere, spies.”

 “We aren't spies! Didn't we just prove that?”

  “You proved nothing and are now my prisoners. Agents, de les arrêter.” 

-=fig. 658: parading the spies on the desert road=-

Capt. Brown shuffled along, the chains hurt his wrists. “So, Corporal, Where're we going?”
  “Détenu taire.” growled the soldier that was jamming a gun in his back.
  “non,” Said Corporal Chaton “il n'y a aucun mal à le connaître, il ne vivra pas long temps de toute façon. Heh Heh Heh ¹. We are going to the Russian Border, Brown Prisoner, Where you will, tragically, die. Saving me a novella of paperwork. Your Car, Of course, will be declared Spoils Of War and will go to the on-duty officer. Me.”

  “Oh.” Capt. Brown said, then in a whisper to Dr. Smith “If I can get us out of this, can we go home?”

  “Sure.” Dr. Smith whispered back.  This whole ‘Fugitive’ thing wasn't working out like he had hoped. 

click

Capt. Brown's lockpick caused his chains to slide off, and in less than a second he was armed, he aimed the right gun at Corporal Chaton and fired the left one into the air. “Attention!” He shouted in his best basso voce “Vous allez nous laisser aller ou le caporal sera là lui!” 

 “Le faire!” Said the Corporal. 

The Soldier who was guarding them came and undid Dr. Smith's chains, And the driver of their jag reluctantly got out.  

  “Home, James.” Dr. Smith said. 

  At Capt. Brown's touch the engine roared into life.

 “You have made this easy on me,” Said Corporal Chaton with a grin. “I do not have to go all the way to the russian border, now. Ils fuient, leur tirer dessus!” 

“That's our cue.” Capt. Brown said, shifting into Flight Gear as the bullets started flying. 

-=fig. 659: flying home=-

¹In case you can't read french, ‘Heh Heh Heh.’ translates pretty roughly to “Hah Hah Hah.” In english.

Tin Portrait

{Me}

The CWA of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #104: Road Trip

Dr. Smith woke up.
 His back and neck hurt, as if he had been sleeping on the ground all night.
  He opened his eyes,
    He was in a tent.
Ah, That explains it, then. He thought.
He could smell something cooking, bacon.
 He realised he hadn't eaten in eight or nine hours.
Dr. Smith walked out of the tent into the sunshine.  Capt. Brown was cooking a pan on the campfire, “Good Morning!” He said, brightly.
 Dr. Smith grumbled.
Wayne King and His orchestra played “ Josephine” Somewhere nearby, Capt. Brown had found a record player and some records in Dr. Smith's suitcase, thoughtfully providing dining music.

-=fig. 650: good morning, middle of nowhere=-

“Here.” Capt. Brown said, handing Dr. Smith a cup. Dr. Smith drank deeply, then spat it all out, gagging. “What is this stuff!” he managed.
  “Coffee,” Capt. brown said, with a hurt expression.  He didn't like seeing his cooking spat out all over the ground. “I percolated it myself. Just now.”
 Dr. Smith examined the remains of the foul drink.  Percolated coffee.  Well, they were on the run, he hadn't expected espresso every morning.
  Actually, he had.
  “So, Where are we?” He asked.
   “France…Somewhere. West of Legopolis, near a dried-up riverbed. That's all I know.” Capt. Brown sipped his coffee, he had never had any trouble drinking percolated coffee.  The trick, he knew, was to drink it fast. He surmised that Dr. Smith's problem was he expected coffee to taste good. Where Capt. Brown drank solely for the caffeine content.
“Why'd we stop here?” Asked Dr. Smith as he procured a slice of bacon and what could have once been scrambled eggs.
 “Oh, uh. No reason.”
  “James.”

  “Fine! The car ran out of gas. We're stuck.”
Dr. Smith laughed, “Gas? We have plenty of that. Did you look in the trunk?”
    “…the trunk?”
    “Yes, James, the trunk. As you know, it's like my briefcase in that it links back to a room in my house. Except this room is filled with gas, and tyres, and spare engine parts.” As he talked Dr. Smith opened the trunk, set the false bottom aside, and climbed down the ladder.
 He disappeared into the darkness. The ratchet style click of a pull-chain light-switch, and the darkness wasn't so dark at all.
 “One tankful of gas?” Asked his voice, from far-off.
 “Right.” Answered Capt. Brown. He couldn't believe he had forgotten about the trunk.
 Dr. Smith appeared climbing up the ladder, dragging one tankful of gas. “Gas is…really heavy.” he wheezed.
  Capt. Brown, who was bigger and stronger than Dr. Smith, gave him a hand.
“Haut les mains, les intrus!”

-=fig. 651: les intrus=-

“I feel like we've done this bit before.” Said Dr. Smith.
 “Qu'entendez-vous, les intrus?” Shouted Capt. Brown. France was a huge country whose borders nearly engulf the tiny country/city of Legopolis, and you wouldn't last long as mayor if you didn't know some french. 
“Je veux dire simplement que. C'est ma terre, ce sont mes hommes, et ce sont…leurs armes.” Said the man in front, with the green suit and stupid red feather in his hat. 
“AaaAaah…*gulp*”  Said. Capt. brown. 
 “What? WHAT?” Asked Dr. Smith, He didn't speak french. 
  “Private property.” Capt. Brown said, “Trespassers will be shot.”
   “Are you…Armed, James?”
   “It's eight-o’clock in the morning, Zachary Of course I'm armed.”
   “Lay down cover fire, but don't kill any of them.” 
   “But…Why not?”
    “Because we're in the wrong here, James, and also I have a better idea but I need their heads down.”
Capt. Brown ducked behind the Jag, The french started shooting, and Dr. Smith dove into the tent, all in the same moment.
  Capt. Brown drew his guns, two automatic machine pistols, from the recesses of his jacket.  Capt. Brown took an ambidextrous approach to weaponry.
  The french rushed forward, but their distinct lack of co-ordination meant that mainly what they did was trip on each other.
 Dr. smith emerged from the tent.

-=fig. 652: dr. smith's better idea=-

He fired.
 Blue light arced from the thing he has holding, and encased the frenchmen in a semi-transparent blue bubble.

-=fig. 653: taget neutralised=- 

“What did you do to them?” Capt. Brown asked, standing at ease. 
 “I encased them in a…Let's call it a time bubble. They're going to relieve the last five, six seconds of their life for the next hour or so.”
  “So what benign purpose did you design this one for?” Asked Capt. Brown.
   “Organ transplants. But it's not really ready yet, too temperamental. For example, I have no idea how long that time bubble will last, I set it for an hour, but it could be a day, could be six minutes. I think it's a power distribution issue.  Oh, yes, what that means to us is we need to really hurry, pack up and leave.  I'll put the gas in while you collapse the tent.” Dr. Smith never could figure out tents.

-=-

-=fig. 654: flying off=-

“I say we go back to the city. and let me sort this out.” Capt. Brown said, he wasn't to comfortable with all this nature.
 “Not yet. Come on, James, we're fugitives in the wilds of france! How much more exciting can you get!”
 Capt. Brown held the private belief that his life had become much too exciting as of late. Usually because of Dr. Smith.
 He hardly had any time for mayoring, anymore. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done any paperwork…filing…reviewed zoning permits…Maybe Dr. Smith wasn't so bad after all.

The CWA of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #103: Secret Passageway

Capt. Brown Slid down the tunnel.  It twisted, turned, the different coloured sections flying by, until finally letting out in a dark room.
 Capt. Brown slid a across the slick floor before being stopped by a shelving unit, which rattled.
 “I was going to put a pillow or something there, but there wasn't time.” Dr. Smith said as he offered Capt. Brown his arm.
 Once they were both standing up, Capt. Brown examined the room they were standing in. “Where are we?” He asked.
   “This is the inventory room.” Dr. Smith said, gesturing wildly.
   “But…I've been to the inventory room,” Capt. Brown said. “It isn't anything like this.”
     Dr. Smith smiled. “You've been to the inventory room that's filled with things I have cleared, and made sure were not dangerous. This is the main inventory room, the one that's filled with dangerous things. ”
  Capt. Brown took a surreptitious look past the end of their aisle, tall shelves lined both sides of the endless passageway.
 “You make a lot of dangerous stuff, then.”
   “Oh yeah.” Dr. smith replied as he swept the contents of the nearest shelf into his briefcase.

-=fig. 647: the other inventory room=-

“So…” Capt. Brown asked, trying to contain his excitement “Do you have something in here that could…I don't know…annihilate whole armies instantly but leave the operator safe?”
 “Sure.” Dr. smith said, he wasn't really paying attention, He was trying to decide weather or not he'd need a shrink-ray. “I have dozens of things like that, I was trying to cure the common cold and I came across this particularly nasty–No. Wait. You can't have anything that's in here. There's a reason you've never been in here before.”
   “But why Zachary?”
      “Because it wouldn't be fair, James.”
        “Life isn't fair. We're the smallest country in the world and we're right on the borders of the two biggest ones. With the stuff in here we could rule the world.”
           “But we won't James. I mean, look at how well that turned out for Von BadGuy. No.  Besides, I have an antidote or a counteragent for everything in here, so the minute Russia, or France, or that wildcard, ‘Canada’, the minute they develop a parallel death ray, mind-control beam or superbug influenza we'll be ready. Now, help me out here, do you think we'll need a shrink ray while we're on the lamb?”
 Capt. Brown sighed and rubbed his face. “Zachary.” He said “It's a building permit. I don't think the police will chase you across the country because you didn't obtain and file form 74a.”
“You never know. Besides, the last time I was a fugitive from the law I didn't have time to get all my stuff. I want to be ready this time.”
 “You were a fugitive for an afternoon. An Afternoon. Besides, I've been a fugitive before, let me tell you, It's not fun. There's altogether to much sleeping in cold bus terminals, and fields, and… running…from the…police.” Capt. Brown had slowly realised that he was describing, word-for-word, the last ‘vacation’ he had taken with Dr. Smith. “On second thought, you might be a really good fugitive. But remember,” Capt. Brown had decided to start playing along. “They will have frozen your accounts, being the criminal that you of course are, they won't want you to be able to get to your money.”
Dr. Smith smiled and jabbed a finger in the air, “AHA! Which is why I always keep all of my money, in cash, in my house. I'll have Jeeves move some down to the Briefcase Room.¹ ”

-=-

-=fig. 648: rose bushes=-

“So where are we?” Capt. Brown asked.

 “The back lot of the smith compound. No one every comes back here because of the–”

   “ARGHCK.” 

    “–Rose bushes.  Nasty little buggers aren't they? But it's the perfect spot for a secret escape hatch.”

Capt. Brown disentangled himself from the thorny menace “Zachary,” He said “I've been thinking. I can't run away with you in the middle of the night. I have friends, family, responsibilities, a job that pays actual money. I can't just drop all that to–”
 “I'll let you drive the Jag.”

-=fig. 649: midnight flight from the law=-

“So, where to?” Capt. Brown asked over the wind.
 “I'll let you decide, buddy-my-pal, while I work the buttons and knobs”

Once outside the city limits, Dr. Smith activated a silver button, the wheels of the Jag folded away and they rose into the air. This was severely necessary because the city was built on a plateau, and just outside the city limits the ground drops away, making wheel-based travel frightfully difficult.
Capt. Brown flew them away into the night, he had no idea where they were going, but he was sure it was going to be exciting when they got there.

¹ Dr. Smith's briefcase is actually a portal to a particular room in his house, that's how he can store so much stuff in it.

Tax Token

{I only have the one coin, this is photoshop trickery so's you can see both sides}
Mom handed me a little box this morning, “See what you can find out about these.” she said.  The box had all sorts of old coins in it, but this super-corroded one had a hole in it. A hole? That's weird.
Okay, I thought, I have photoshop, I'll run a CSI-Style ENHANCE! on it.
If I were a Tech on CSI I would say I ran a Differential-Bitmap-Algorithm, but what I really did was make a super-contrasty inverted black-and-white.
The corrosion didn't magically disappear and I have no idea what colour shoes the perp was wearing, but I did find out a bit more than I could have with just the naked eye.

NOTES:
penny?
utah
jx1/ux1
no1
12 stars per side
utah state
Hole in the Center

I spent about fifteen minutes with google, trying to find a utah commemorative penny but it was only after I had given up that a real clue appeared.
I took the thing outside to show to mom and she said “Hey! This is a bus token!”
 It wasn't, but a quick google for utah state token returned this ebay page: [LINK] which had a selection of much cleaner ones. Turns out, It's tax token. the gibberish I had thought was ‘JX1’ was ‘TAX’ upside-down, and ‘NO 1’ Was the last part of ‘COMMISSION’ There are really good pictures of a cleaned up one at that ebay link.
What's a tax token?  Tax is fraction of your purchase, so you if you buy a 10¢ thing, and tax is 3%, you have a problem because there's no way to collect three-tenths of a cent. Rounding up or down pretty much screws everybody, so they created these tax tokens which would stand in for that three tenths of a cent. Nowadays tax is way higher than 3% so nobody needs to really worry about percentages of pennies. [BETTER EXPLANATION]

The CWA of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #102: The Onyx Club

“Hello, My name is Doct–Doc Fedora, Of Fedora And the The Fedorettes. I saw your sign outside, you're looking for a floor show?”
 “Yep. Especially a New Band, we're looking for a new sound.”
  “Then Sir, Have I got a new sound for you!”
    “What is it?”
      “The Pop sensation that's swinging the nation, Jazz, Sir, Jazz!”

-=-

-=fig 642: The Onyx Alley=- 

The Next thing Dr. Smith knew he was lying in an alley, the back of his head hurt {As if he had been thrown out of the door, opposite. Which he had.} and a voice was yelling, “AND DON’T COME BACK OR I'LL HAVE THE LAW ON YOU!”

-=-

“There's a definite stigma against Jazz in this city, James.”
  “There is at that, Zachary.” They were sitting outside a café along the river, nursing restorative drinks.
   Dr. Smith's white Jazz Jacket was covered in garbage, that had been his fourth forceful encounter with an alleyway today.
  Capt. Brown didn't look much better, it was only because of his huge size that he had escaped the many alleys of Legopolis.
   “You know,” He said, “This all go much smoother if you let me tell them I'm the mayor.”
    “And what? We get let in wherever we want because they're all afraid of you? Like always? No. We do this right. Unfortunately the Onyx club was the last club in town without a floor show.”
 “So what do we do?”
   Dr. Smith took a long slurp of his drink, “We use the music room.” He said.
     “But you don't want people trudging through your house…Do you?”
      “They wouldn't have to. Find me a door and some white paint. And I'll meet you there in an hour.”

-=fig. 643: the all-night jazz club=-

“You have a future in lettering, Zachary.” Capt. Brown said.
  “Thanks, Give me five…ten minutes to hook this up to The House's Door Network. As a matter of interest, where does this door go now? It says ‘Authorised Personel Only’.”
  “There's a very small room and a very deep, very sharp pit on the other side of that door.”  Capt. Brown said, smugly. “ I had a bunch of these installed a couple of years ago, to mess with people who are far too nosy for their own good.”

-=-

After the posters had been amended to point people to the address, the Beatniks flooded in. They were generally all young-ish, and wearing black turtlenecks and berets.
  “It's almost time for this evening's first performance, Sir.”
    “Thanks Jeev–Reggie Bones. What do these people eat?”
     “Mainly coffee, Sir. But the café is closed during performances, due to the fact that the barista is also the Piano player. Namely, Me. Sir.”
Dr. Smith, being the band leader, stood up to the mic to introduce the performance.
 He made a snap decision, as long as these people are here, why not merchandise to them? “Good Evening, Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm Doc Fedora, and tonight's performance is brought to you by S&B¹, and their new product, TV! It's radio, but with pictures. And now…Fedora, And the Fedorettes!”
There was no applause, but instead a very similar noise, caused by dozens of pairs of fingers, snapping in time.
 It was unsettling, to say the least, there had been no words exchanged betwixt the beatniks, was this normal? Was it positive, or more akin to booing? Reggie Bones, being a robot, had no nerves to unsettle, so he led everyone in with a piano solo, A solo had not been in the notes this afternoon when Dr. Smith had composed the song, but no one else was playing, so a solo it became.

-=fig. 644: onyx rag=-

After a second he was joined By Jimmy-Brown-Eyes on drums, then Johnny Davis, Satchmo Black, Dr. Smith and finally Bobby Davis on guitar. There was no guitar part in this song, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. Honeylips sang the first verse so well the room grew quiet, every ear was hers.

It wasn't a sad song, But she gave it feeling anyway.

That was when the doors burst open, and policemen started yelling. “THIS BUSINESS IS OPERATING ILLEGALLY! 

YOU ARE ALL UNDER ARREST, BUT ESPECIALLY DOCTOR ZACHARY SMITH!

DOCTOR SMITH, STEP FORWARD!”

The policemen had come in the far doors, so Dr. Smith had about five seconds.

He dove off the stage, Toward the lounge area. 

 “JAMES!” He yelled, 

“IlLEGALLY, ZACHARY?”

They had to yell, because of the racket. Reggie Bones/Jeeves was still playing his part of the song, {and it was an impressive part} but on top of that the beatniks were panicking. The majority of them had other, minor, marks on their records, and being found in an illegal club was the last thing they needed.
Jimmy-Brown-Eyes had slid down to where Dr. Smith was hiding.
 “Illegally, Zachary!” He whispered.
  “I tried, James, I did! The Better Business Bureau doesn't give out licenses to Jazz clubs, okay? No reason at all. They just don't. You see that painting?”
 Capt. Brown was still kind of upset that he had participated in illegal activities, but he knew that was an argument for later. “Yeah.” He said. “Gabriella Giovedì, Tenor. So?”
  “It's a secret passageway out of here.” Dr. Smith whispered, “I knew the heat'd be onto us at some point, just didn't think It'd be this soon.”
   “Zachary…Have you been watching Film Noir?”
     “Maybe.”
      “Why Don't I just tell them I'm the mayor? This could all be cleared up in…a minute. Two, tops.”
       “James” Dr. Smith whined “I Built a Secret Passageway.” 

-=-

-=fig. 645: the fat lady=-

“Gimme a push, James.”
 Capt. Brown gave Dr. Smith a push, Dr. Smith  slid down the secret passageway, “James, come on.” Dr. Smith's voice said.
 “I'm right behind you, Zachary.  Can you hear me?” No answer. He was probably behind some multi-dimensional barrier, {Capt. Brown thought} that's the sort of thing Dr. Smith would do.
 Capt. Brown stood up, and adopted his most commanding scowl.

-=fig. 646: authority=- 

  “You there! ST–”
   “DON'T YOU ‘YOU THERE’ ME SARGEANT DONALD SCHMIDT. MY NAME IS CAPT. JAMES BROWN. MY TITLE IS MAYOR² OF THIS CITY.”
 “Sir!” Saluted the hapless Sgt. Donald Schmidt “We Suspect this establishment is operating illegally and we have a warrant to–”
“A WARRANT!” Boomed Capt. Brown, “ILLEGALLY! I AM THE MAYOR! WOULD I PARTICIPATE IF IT WERE ILLEGAL?”
  “Well, I–”
      “ARE YOU CALLING ME A CRIMINAL SGT. DONALD SHMIDT? ARE YOU?”
          “Well, no–”
              “THEN GET OUT OF MY FRIEND'S PLACE OF BUSINESS AND PRAY TO YOUR GODS THAT I DON'T REPORT YOU TO YOUR SUPERIORS ³!”
The handful of policemen who hadn't run off when they recognized Capt. Brown now left, in a hurry, as any sane person would.  Capt. Brown had quite a voice, it could rattle windows and shatter vases.
 He now turned to the mass of patrons, “I woud suggest that you all go home. Jeeves.” He gave a little nod. Jeeves nodded back. This frightened the patrons. It seemed to be a signal of some sort. “Oh, and folks…” they all stopped, he wasn't yelling now, but they weren't going to risk it. “…Be sure to settle your debts before you leave, we don't run tabs.”
 He then took a running jump into the secret passageway, and disappeared.
They made nearly three hundred dollars that night.

¹S&B: Smith and Brown, the name Dr. Smith's inventions are sold under.
²A title with a meaning closer to ‘Tyrant’ than anything, but everybody likes him.
³ Capt. Brown is the Sergeant's ultimate superior. Tyrant, see.

The CWA of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #101: Skylark

“How many attempt on my life have there been today, Jeeves?”

  “None, Sir.”

   “Then It's a good day in my book.”

    “It's only Eight-Of-The-Clock in the morning, Sir, I wouldn't celebrate just yet.” 

-=-

-=fig. 637: newspaper advertisement=-

-=-

-=fig. 638: the turn out=-

“I was expecting a bigger turnout.” Dr. Smith said.
  “Your reputation preceded you.” Capt. Brown said, ignoring the glare he received.
 “Since this is the bare minimum number of people for what I had in mind–” Dr. Smith said “–You're all hired. I must warn you, however, we will be playing Jazz.”
 “That beatnik music?” Asked Mary ‘Honeylips’ Davis, Mezzo-Soprano, nervously. Beatniks…were an unknown quantity, and therefore something assumed by the general public to be inappropriate for young ears.
  “I be in.” Growled Brigadier ‘Satchmo’ Black, Trumpet.
  “It'll be fun dear,” assured Robert ‘Bobby’ Davis, Guitar/Banjo.
  “I'm in.” Declared John ‘Johnny’ Davis, Upright bass, Cello. From what he'd heard Jazz sounded a lot more interesting than Classical Operas.
  “I've been in since Russia.” Said Capt. James ‘Jimmy Brown Eyes’ Brown, Basso Voce, Drums. He had picked his nickname all by himself.
  “Good.” Said Doctor Zachary ‘Dr. Smith’ Smith, Trumpet, Band leader.  “You won't get paid until we actually find someplace to perform, but before then we'll need to practice.”

-=-

-=fig. 639: dr. smith's music room=-

Dr. Smith's music room was a large, high-ceilinged room made of wood, there was a square stage with a piano and a fireplace. In front of the stage was a table with some food. Next to the stage was a sitting area, with comfortable chairs. And a couch.
“Woah.” Was all Johnny Davis could say. Dr. Smith's rooms were ever so slightly overwhelming.
 “Is all of your house like this?” Asked Mary.
  “Pretty much.” Answered Dr. Smith. “Okay James–”
  “Jimmy Brown-Eyes.”
    “I'm not calling you that.”
    “Please? PLEASE PLEASE please?” Pleaded Capt. ‘Jimmy Brown-Eyes’ Brown.
 Dr. Smith looked up into Capt. Brown's pitiful face.
  He sighed.
  “Fine.” He said. “I want Jimmy Brown-Eyes in the back there, on the drums, Jeeves–” Jeeves cut him off. “Sir? A word?”
  Dr. Smith stared. But Jeeves was a robot, he couldn't possibly want a–“I'd like my Jazz Name to be Reggie Bones ¹. Sir.”
   “Fine!” Dr. Smith said, throwing up his hands. “Reggie Bones! To the Piano! Johnny Davis, your Bass! Bobby Davis, over there! Ms. Honeylips, here are the lyrics, And Satchmo Black, to me!”

-=fig. 640: rehearsal=-

The Guitar is a weird instrument, not commonly used in Jazz, more-so the banjo. Dr. Smith made a mental note to see what else Robert ‘Bobby’ Davis could play.
 Something was wrong.
 “Stop, Stop stop.” Dr. Smith said. “Jeeves, you're playing like a robot.”
   “Sir–” Jeeves lowered his voice, “–I am a robot.”
  “Well…Play more like Reggie Bones, less like Jeeves. How would a man with an awesome name like Reggie Bones tickle the ivories?”
  That seemed to do it.
Jimmy Brown-Eyes started things off with a hi-hat beat,  Johnny Davis came in with a heavy baseline,  then Dr. Smith and Satchmo Black pealed in with a swinging note. Reggie Bones picked up the beat with a boogieing melody, which Bobby Davis countered on the guitar. Then Mary ‘Honeylips’ Davis realized where there were in the song and started singing.
Together they played a beautiful set.
 Afterwards Jimmy Brown-Eyes Pulled Dr. Smith aside.
  “Zachary, you need a cool Jazz name.”
   “James–Jimmy, I mean, I don't even use my first name. I don't think I could handle a nickname.”
   “No no no, what I mean is…You know how only four people turned up today? Why do you think that is?”
  “…there aren't that many out-of-work chamber musicians?”
  “No. It's because the public knows the name ‘Doctor Smith’, and they don't like it.”
  “Why?”
   “Because they think you're a rich jerk.  And if you put ‘Doctor Smith and whatever the name of the band is’ up on a marquee, no one will come.”
    “Okay. Umm…Doc Fedora.”
    “Good–”
      “And the Fedorettes.”
Capt. Brown's mouth opened and closed a few times.
     “Zachary…The -ette suffix is reserved for girls. We are not girls.”
      “Too bad!” Said Dr. Smith enjoying himself and grinning widely. “I'm the band leader, and I say the name of the band is Fedora and the Fedorettes. And I'm Doc Fedora.”

-=fig. 641: plastered all over town=-

¹After Reginald Jeeves, the full name of the P.G. Wodehouse character, and Bones, because Piano keys are made of Ivory {Technically not a bone, but Reggie Dentin doesn't sound half as cool.}