(back to Elf and Safety chapter index)
Polarity Reversed OR Turning the Tables
In The Bingo Hall
Rifleman calliaphone is carried in from reception by Mountjoy. She is unconscious, and is fzzzling and twitching at intervals. Mountjoy dumps her on her cart and departs, grumbling.
Rifleman calliaphone has a note tucked into her collar, in Talkydoor's handwriting. It says “callia has been electrocuted. Please reverse polarity. (sorrysorrysorry)”
Generalissimo Santa Bernard wonders if this means she must be taken to the South Pole? He whistles Treacle, and whispers in her ear. Treacle looks at SB as though he's gone out, and hurls Calli over her shoulder and leaves..
Generalissimo Santa Bernard watches as his sleigh carries Calli off to the South Pole, where Polarity must, perforce, be reversed. Hopefully she'll be back before the shit goes down in IC, however.
* * * some time later * * *
Rifleman calliaphone re-enters the Bingo Halls - on her feet! And carrying a live penguin. Hurrah for the General! Hurrah for reindeers and the south pole! She appears to be completely recovered.
Rifleman calliaphone empties several bars of kendal mint-cake out of her pockets, and stacks them on the mantelpiece for her clan-mates to enjoy. She grabs one for herself and takes a bite. And then she sees her cart.
Rifleman calliaphone chokes a bit on the minty confection, and approaches the poor, clamped wheel, making little eeps of horror. “My cart!” she whispers, “Somebody's clamped my cart.” She scowls darkly.
Rifleman calliaphone crouches down by the clamped wheel, and examines it, as a vet might examine an animal caught in a trap. She makes little soothing noises between her teeth, and reaches for her bucket-of-tools.
Rifleman calliaphone hasa go at the clamp with a hack-saw. No joy. Then she tries bolt-croppers, but they just fall to bits. She scowls, and re-thinks. Then reaches for her power-drill.
Rifleman calliaphone checks her drill-bit. It's the thin, diamond-tipped one, good. Grinning evilly, she zeroes in on the lock. The noise is horrendous, and the penguin shudders, and tries to hide.
Rifleman calliaphone lets her enthusiasm get the better of her. There is a CRACK as the drill-bit breaks, the majority of it remaining stuck in the lock. Try as she might, Callia can't get that drill-bit out.
Rifleman calliaphone swears roundly and resorts to kicking the clamp. When she's finished hopping about and clutching her toes, she scowls and stalks out. Round 1 to the Clamp. The penguin waddles after her.
Generalissimo Santa Bernard notes the appearance of the clamp, and an idea pops into his mind. . . He also notes the appearance of the penguin. That leaves him a little baffled, but not so much you'd notice.
Generalissimo Santa Bernard wanders into his office, leaving the door wide open. You can see him, rifling through the filing cabinet in the far corner, you know, the one obscured by the scraggy aspidistra, the one titled “permits, licences and registration forms”. From behind you can't see the pensive look playing over his ruddy cheeks.
In The Prancing Spiderkitty
Rifleman calliaphone is slouched at a table, nursing an half-empty drink, and smoking a cigarette. Indoors! Shocking behaviour.
Generalissimo Santa Bernard heads over to the bar, and, in his usual ritual in here, counts out the coins for two halves of mild. These he transports over to Callia's table, “Not interruptin' am I?”
Rifleman calliaphone is muttering to herself. Something about “. . .some acid might do it. Conc sulphuric. Or an angle-grinder. Where could i get one of those. . .”
Rifleman calliaphone looks up and sees the boss man. She jumps up, salutin'. “Mister General Santa Sir! Am I meant to be on duty somewhere?”
Generalissimo Santa Bernard knows why she's glum, “It's that bloody annoying clamp, isn't it?” he wonders whether he should broach the rest of his theory. . .
Generalissimo Santa Bernard proffers one of the glasses of mild to Calli, he then decides to go for broke, “It's that bugger Chief Elf Sink, he's gone bloody nuts. He gets a bit of power and it goes to his head!”
Generalissimo Santa Bernard continues his rant, “It's health and safety gone mad! Political correctness in GERM? I ask you! We're not known for being ruled and governed by process and procedure!”
Rifleman calliaphone subsides, and accepts the drink gratefully. She eyes the penguin under Bernard's arm - he looks familiar. She sighs. “You know him better than I do.”
Rifleman calliaphone is referring of course to Sink. not the penguin. That would just be silly.
Generalissimo Santa Bernard looks at the penguin himself, “Um, I think you left Darren outside. You mean Sink? Oh yes, normally the man is a gem. But this Chief Elf shtick? It's sent him over the edge. He's got me on a diet!”
Generalissimo Santa Bernard leans in quite close, and lowers his voice, “However, I think Sink has made a gaffe in clamping your cart in clan halls. See, he's not got a licence to clamp within the Bingo Hall grounds.”
Rifleman calliaphone winces. “A diet? That doesn't sound good at all.” she whistles to Dan and points to Darren. Dan rolls his eyes and brings over a pail of fish. Darren brightens.
Rifleman calliaphone raises her eyebrows. “No license? Huhhh.”
Generalissimo Santa Bernard approves of Darren's fish, and continues on, “See, there's a number of old bye-laws that govern the use of the Bingo Hall, we don't know all of 'em, and to be frank, not sure we ever will. . . But..”
Rifleman calliaphone leans forward, “. . .but?”
Generalissimo Santa Bernard pauses for effect, “The Bingo Hall is a little odd. . . and it sort of threw up the necessary info, just in time for us to bring his reign of terror to an end. Just in time to help out,”
Generalissimo Santa Bernard prods his finger in the direction of the door, and IC, “Help out here and make sure the bloody old mess is safe and secure for all the lovely people who live here.”
Rifleman calliaphone nods uncertainly. “so, uhh, what've you got in mind exactly, sir?”
Generalissimo Santa Bernard gulps, “We need to bring Sink low. Investigate his misdemeanour, and commence disciplinary proceedings against him. Once we've done that, he'll give up his role for sure and we can get back to how
Generalissimo Santa Bernard and all of the GERMans like it. A little bit more relaxed and fun! No more of this blessed granola, and no clamping people who just leave a nice little cart lying around!”
Rifleman calliaphone also gulps.“D-d-disciplinary proceedings? Against Sink? Are you sure, sir? I mean, he's a clan-leader, isn't he, like you? What if he don't take it kindly?”
Rifleman calliaphone is assailed by horrific visions of Darren being arrested and tortured until he testifies. . .nonono, she pushes the image away. Darren gives her a sidelong look, and swallows some more fish.
Generalissimo Santa Bernard shakes his head, “Look Calli, if I were to be a naughty clan leader, well, hey, I'd expect to be taken to task about it! As it stands we're just aiming to demote him from being Chief Elf, he's not”
Generalissimo Santa Bernard continues, “Going to be booted out of the clan or anything, we just need to ensure his Elven performance is up to snuff!” he smiles, he hopes reassuringly.
Rifleman calliaphone nods slowly. “Well, okay then . . .” she's no expert on Elven Performance, but she figures Santa would be. “We'll have to be careful not to undermine clan morale though, with the war on.”
Rifleman calliaphone finishes her drink and gathers up Darren. She salutes Santa Bernard again. “I have to run, now. Duty calls, etc etc. But i'll do whatever i can to help.” Anything to get her cart unclamped.
Rifleman calliaphone leaves the pub, the penguin tucked firmly under her arm. He seems pretty happy there, and amuses himself by pulling rude faces at the paper canary perched on Callia's ear.
Generalissimo Santa Bernard heads off himself, muttering and murmuring about how he's going to solve a problem like Chief Elf Sink.
Back in the Bingo Hall
Generalissimo Santa Bernard puts a sealed envelope in Chief Elf Sink's pigeon-hole. This almost thrums with dark potential. . .
* * * some time later * * *
Rifleman calliaphone sneaks into the Bingo Hall, followed by a penguin and a canary, who are carrying on a noisy, incomprehensible argument.
Rifleman calliaphone is carrying an awkwardly-shaped bundle wrapped in her old coat. The bundle occasionally emits an unhappy buzz and sprinkles the floor with toast-crumbs. Callia hushes it, and creeps past, to her room
Rifleman calliaphone emerges from her room, whistling, hands in pockets. She looks quite the picture of innocent nonchalance!
* * * some time later * * *
Generalissimo Santa Bernard parks his library trolley, just outside of Sink's office, as he empties it of Haynes manuals.
Generalissimo Santa Bernard leaves that self-same trolley right there taunting Sink. TAUNTING HIM!
Logistic Elf 1st Class SinkOrSwim steps out of his office, tripping over the trolley and tumbling down the stairs to the main hall. He rubs his head, straightens his outfit and storms out for another clamp.
Logistic Elf 1st Class SinkOrSwim storm back in, clampless and fuming. He scans the hall for Santa, after all Elf Sink has done to help him this festive period. . . Ooh, he's fairly seething. . .
Logistic Elf 1st Class SinkOrSwim sees the still clamped cart, and it cheers him a little. He allows himself a brief, tight smile then strides off, leaving a message for Santa on the board. “See me. Sink”
Logistic Elf 1st Class SinkOrSwim pops back in briefly to leave another notice on the Kendal mintcake. “Restriction Notice: To be taken only in quantities 20g or under. Contains excessive sugar. Sink”
Rifleman calliaphone staggers drunkenly into the Bingo Hall, and climbs onto her cart - apparently forgetting she has a room. Still bickering quietly, the penguin and the canary get into the cart as well.
Rifleman calliaphone falls straight to sleep, snoring gently. Pretty soon, the penguin follows suit. He's knocked out from the long trip north. The canary chrrps to himself for a bit, before he too dozes off.
(back to Elf and Safety chapter index)