Tuesday, June 14, 2011

The CWA Of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #106: Flying Home



 Capt. Brown landed the Jaguar and put it in park.
 “Shouldn't I lock it or something?” He said.
 “It doesn't have a roof, locking it would be ridiculous. Besides, didn't you see the plaque?” Dr. Smith asked.
 “What plaque?”
 “This Automobile Property Of Dr. Zachary Smith.” Dr. Smith quoted. “Who would steal a car belonging to me?”
 Capt. Brown considered this. It was common knowledge that Dr. Smith was a good friend of Capt. Brown, and that Capt. Brown {Being the mayor} could have anyone he deemed worthy of it beheaded without a trial.
  “I guess. But what if the thief can't read?”
  “Ah. Good point. Pop the hood.”
Dr. Smith walked around the front of the car to the engine.
His hand went from the engine to his pocket.
“There. C'mon, I want to check on Jeeves.”

-=fig. 660: reading the placard=-
Dr. Smith leaned in closer to the door.
“Huh. That can't be right.” He said, reading the placard.
He went into the Jazz Club.
 Jeeves greeted him with a smile, “Hello Sir, It is good to see you have returned, We start quite soon and I didn't think I could find a lead trumpeter in time.”
 “Jeeves, Did you put that sign in the door?”
  “Yes Sir.”
  “ ‘Closed by edict of the King’? But Jeeves, We dont have a King.”
  “Exactly why my ruse is so clever, Sir–”
  “ ‘Rooze’ Jeeves, It's pronounced ‘Rooze’.”
  “No, Sir It's pronounced ‘ruce’ To rhyme with Loose, or Goose, or…”
  “Deuce?” Suggested Capt. Brown. {Dr. Smith gave him a quick glare.}
  “Exactly, Ruse. Policemen and people who aren't in on the gag simply pass it off as a typo while the more adventurous sort just walk in. It works surprisingly well.”
  “Amazing.”
  “Thank you Sir,  I had hoped that you would find it amusing.”
 Dr. Smith saw a hole in this plan, “But won't word get around?”
  “Yes, Sir.”
  “So won't the police find out…Eventually?”
 “Probably Sir. And when they do, we'll have another raid and patronage will go up another 20%.  The people like a bit of danger, Sir. Now If you could change into your Jazz clothes we start in ten minutes.”
Six-and-a-half minutes Later Dr. Smith was onstage.
Capt. Brown was already seated, he hadn't made as many concesions to his everyday outfit as Dr. Smith had.
He was still wearing his hat, and trenchcoat, and hip holsters, and shoulder holsters, and tan pants.
 His Jazz Clothes, in fact, consisted entirely of a gray jacket and a blue tie.
Dr. Smith straightened the black tie of his tuxedo.
The lights Dimmed.
A Spotlight clicked on,

-=fig. 661: in the spotlight=-
Honeylips Davis sang.
And gosh did she sing. 
The room became silent.
Then the musicians remembered their parts, and started playing.
When the song was over even the beatniks were clapping, and some of them had tears in their eyes.
It wasn't even a sad song.
-=-
At the end of their set Jeeves took the stage.
  “Good Evening Ladies and Gentlemen.” He said “there will be a brief intermission while we feed the orchestra, drinks are available at the bar, please spend all your money.”
This got a laugh.
It wasn't a joke.
-=-
Dr. Smith balanced his soup and coffee on the tiny plate as he made his way to the ‘Performers Lounge’ which consisted of a couch and a couple of chairs. 
But he stopped. 
Capt. Brown had just told a joke, and the band was laughing. 
They all looked so happy. 
  “I'll go sit somewhere else, I guess.” He said to no one, sadly.
Without looking he sat down in the nearest open seat. 
“No, Please, sit there. It's not taken or anything.” Said a sarcastic voice.

-=fig. 662: meeting with mr. radio=-
Dr. Smith looked up. “Mr. Radio?” He said. 
  “Dr. Smith! A pleasure to see you again. What's been happening?”
Dr. Smith told him.
-=-
  “And you say stuff like this happens every week?” Mr. Radio said in awe.
  “Yes. Like some sort of bad B-movie.”
  “Or a dime-store novel.” Mr. Radio was thinking. “Is it always the french?” He asked.
  “No.” Dr. Smith answered. “Sometimes it's the Russians. But most of the time it's Von BadGuy.”
  “Von BadGuy?”
  “Yeah, but don't let him hear you call him that, His real name is Von TipRău. Romanian, You know.”
  “And what does Von TipRău do?”
  “Stereotypical villain-y things. Usually it's strapping me to some ridiculously complex machine which I inevitably escape from.”
  “Every week?”
  “Every week.”
  “What have you done to this man to make him hate you so?”
  “I have no idea. I'm usually too preoccupied trying to escape to ask pressing questions.”
  “But every week you escape?”
  “And destroy his lair in the process. You'd think he'd learn his lesson after awhile.”
  “How long has this been going on?”
Dr. Smith shrugged. “Two years or so. But I've been having adventures and stuff almost my whole life.”
  “But this is amazing!” Mr. Radio said “You're a real-life action-hero!”
  “I wouldn't go that far,” Dr. Smith said, “There's very little action. I usually just talk my way out of it or am rescued.”
 “By who?”
 “Capt. Brown, usually.”
 “The really strong tall guy in the cape with the deep voice who spends most of his time on roofs?”
 “It's a trenchcoat, but yeah.”
  “And you're his…what, sidekick?”
  “Actually, I think he's mine.”
  “What makes you think that?” Mr. Radio pulled a dollar out of his pocket, it had a fairly accurate picture of a clean-shaven Capt. Brown in a silly hat and the official uniform “Look at him, that's leading man material, Whereas you…” Mr. Radio let his voice trail off.
Dr. Smith got the message.
  “I ‘think that’, Mr. Radio, Because I'm the one who's always being captured, I'm one they monologue to, I'm the one they lower slowly into the pit of acid or whatever. Jame–Capt. Brown may be the Hero but I'm the protagonist.
  “Good.” Mr. Radio said with a nod. “We'll start filming tomorrow.”
  “…What?”
  “The story of your life, Dr. Smith. It's a TaVee show. We've realised that we'll have a lot of time to fill, And you can only have so many cowboy and detective shows. So we'd like to make a TaVee show based off your life.”
  “But …What would you call it?”
  “We were thinking ‘The Continuing Weekly Adventures Of Doctor Zachary Smith.”
  “That's a stupid name.”
  “Well what would you call it?”
Dr. Smith thought for a moment.
  “Smith & Brown.”
Mr. Radio considered it. It had a certain… catchiness, and it was easy to spell.
 “Alright.” He said, finally.

-=fig. 663: capt. brown interloping=-
  “Hey Zachary!” Capt. Brown said, as he stopped walking by. “We missed you at the…” He pointed to the corner “…Thingy. Place with the chairs. Who's this?”
  “Why James, It's Mr. Radio!”
Capt. Brown shook Mr. Radio's hand “Good to see you again.”
  “James, We're gonna be on TaVee!”
  “We are?”





Tuesday, June 07, 2011

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.




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