Festival of Lights

Nobody—make that nobody, not even her own children—was allowed to burst in on Elly McMahon in her kitchen when she was on the job. Only the look of sheer terror on Freddy Turner’s face stopped her from head-butting him into the deep fryer. “You get three seconds,” she said.

“You gotta help me, Miz Elly.” His voice matched his face, drawn and panicky. “I can’t take it any more.”

Elly handed off control of the Bighorn kitchen to Toby Horn and hustled Freddy out the back and into winter’s chill. “Talk.”

Freddy opened his mouth. A belch came out, riding a rainbow. Sounds and festive colors hung in the air for a handful of seconds, then dissipated.

Elly’s brows climbed into the tight curls of her hair. “What the heck?”

“It’s not my fault,” Freddy said quickly. “I was drunk. Fun’s fun, but it can stop any time now.”

She slowly shook her head. “I think this one’s off my menu.”

“But you’re in tight with Marissa. She wouldn’t help me, she just laughed. If you’d put in a good word …”

“Maybe if you’d tell me how this happened.” Elly swiped her hand at a trace of pink still wafting on the breeze. “And what it’s supposed to be.”

“Well, Moon-Moon and I—”

“Ah,” she said. Moon-Moon. There was ninety percent of the explanation right there.

“We wanted to, uh, color our pee so we could write ‘Merry Christmas’ in the snow. Eating red and green foods didn’t work out.”

“Oh yes, I remember now.”

“Uh-huh. So we went to Marissa’s boss, you know, that Lex guy? The one with the mini-brewery? He’s got this rep. Rumors say he brews more than beer in the back of that store, y’know?”

Elly shivered, not from the cold, as everything came rushing back. “And you drank whatever it was he gave you, didn’t you?”

Freddy urped up a little bit of purple with orange on its outskirts. “There has to be an antidote, but he won’t talk to us, and Marissa just laughs, like I said.”

“I’m sure it’ll wear off on its own. Almost all of Lex’s potions do eventually.”

“He said we’d be doing this for ‘eight crazy nights.’ I don’t think I can last that long. I’m not even Jewish.”

“Does it hurt?” Elly asked. “Is there any physical discomfort?”

“Just a lot of gas after I eat, and a funny taste on my tongue. It’s more the embarrassment.” This time when the burp bubbled up, Freddy clapped his hand over his mouth. Tinsel-thin tendrils of green slipped between his fingers. “It’s not the belches so much. Those I can deal with. It’s what comes out the other end.”

“What—oh. Oh my dear lord. He wouldn’t have—”

Yes, he would have. Of course he would have. He was Lex.

“I’ll talk to Marissa,” she promised. “How’s Moon-Moon? Is he all right? Physically, I mean.”

“Oh yeah, he’s fine.” Freddy made a face. “He’s enjoying this. Take a look out in the square. It is kind’a pretty, but I’m afraid somebody’s gonna get hurt. Like me. Naturally, he had to tell everybody I’m infected too.”

Elly had raised two vegetarian sons. She didn’t need a diagram. “You get over to Java Joe’s. I’m calling Marissa right now.” Had she dared, she’d throw in a head-butt for Lex. Not that it would do any good. Freddy thanked her and hotfooted around the diner, while Elly went back inside.

But first, she went out into the dining room and the Bighorn’s tall front windows, to confirm with her own eyes what Freddy had just imparted.

She spotted the crowd first, mostly children. They loosely surrounded a tongue-lolling, tail-wagging wolf. The kids kept clear of his hind end. The older ones had lighters.

The wolf barked and raised his tail. A kid darted in with lighter lit. The rainbow arcing out of Moon-Moon’s butt erupted into streamers and sparkles. More than a few people held their noses, but that didn’t stop them from cheering.

“Only you, Brian,” Elly said on a sigh. “Only you would think this is a good thing.” At least they’d gotten fireworks for Christmas, and nobody’d gotten burned yet. Elly heaved another sigh and headed for the phone.

Mellow Yellow

Elly McMahon left the Bighorn Diner around 4:30—late, but this time of year she stayed open a little later in the afternoon to accommodate holiday shoppers. Her lambs were inside, cleaning up so she could head home and catch some rest. She considered dropping in on her loving husband, but a glance through the Grease ‘n’ Grill’s windows showed Vern was doing a healthy business too, and his customers were pure carnivore. Better if she didn’t walk into that feeding frenzy. She’d see Vern tonight.

She’d rounded the corner by City Hall when she heard snickering, followed by an “Awwww!” and some half-hearted swearing. “Wait. Lemme try again.”

Elly frowned. That was Moon-Moon’s voice. She’d better check this out. When Moon-Moon did, or even tried, anything, disaster usually followed.

She spotted Moon-Moon hunched before a towering snow bank. He wasn’t alone. A lanky male in a leather coat and a visored cap stood beside him, in the same hunched position. The smell of urine was everywhere.

Not hard to guess what they were up to. What surprised her was that the other male’s steaming stream had a veggie aroma. Wolves were addicted to pissing contests, but not with herbivores. This bore looking into.

Elly stepped off the sidewalk and called out, “You know City Hall has public restrooms, right?”

Both males jerked around and hastily stuffed their hoses back behind their flies. Moon-Moon flushed bright scarlet. “Afternoon, Miz Elly,” he stammered out.

She nodded to him and turned to his companion. “Freddy Turner? Is that you?”

“Miz Elly.” Freddy touched the visor of his John Deere cap. “You didn’t see anything, did you?”

“Not a thing,” she said truthfully, with a silent thank-you added to the forest spirits. She peered a bit more closely at the lines branded into the snowbank and had to fight a laugh. “Signing autographs, are you?”

“It’s supposed to say ‘Merry Christmas,’” Freddy said, “except—”

“Except it’s not coming out right,” Moon-Moon said. “Well, it’s coming out good enough, we’ve been drinking all afternoon—”

“Yes, I gathered that.”

“But it’s not the right color. Y’see, we wanted it to be festive, dress up the town a bit, so I ate red meat this morning, and Freddy here had a ton of greens, so that—”

“If I did the Merry and Moons did the Christmas, then—”

“But it keeps coming out yellow,” Moon-Moon finished. “I can’t figure out what we did wrong.”

Elly shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way, boys. Pee only has one color. Anything other than yellow and you should be seeing a vet. It’s like feeding Hershey bars to a cow. You won’t get chocolate milk.”

“You don’t?” Freddy looked shocked. “So if you freeze the udder you don’t get ice cream either?”

“No. Take my word for it. Don’t you dare go around experimenting.”

“Hell, no,” Moon-Moon said fervently. “I’m not making that mistake again. Simon Batista damn near broke my nose when I suggested we try it.”

“That’s because Simon’s a bull, honey.”

“Oh. So when I said I wanted to milk him, that’s why he—” Moon-Moon’s eyes got wider. “Ooooohhhh.”

“Well, hell.” Freddy kicked at a clump of frozen snow. “Wait. Wait. I know what happened. It was the egg nog. We were drinking egg nog. That’s why it came out yellow.”

“I dunno, man. Last time I got hung over I took Pepto-Bismol, and nothing came out pink. In fact, it was kind’a—”

“And that’s my cue,” Elly muttered, edging back to the sidewalk. “I suggest you boys go home and sleep it off. And when you’re sober, go to the library and check out a couple of health books.”

Too late. Moon-Moon had had a revelation. “I got it! My buddy Mooney’s wife’s a witch who works for this cat who brews potions. I’ll bet he could make us something to get the colors right.”

“Yeah, I know the guy,” Freddy said. “If he was any good, you’d think he would’a brewed himself a potion for hair growth by now.”

“Maybe he shaves it.” Moon-Moon adjusted his pants. “Never hurts to ask.”

Yes. Yes, it does. Elly determinedly turned on her heel and trotted briskly in the other direction, mumbling, “Don’t get involved. Don’t get involved,” under her breath for at least a block.

Cravings...

Nick looked over this week’s layout on the computer screen and liked what he saw.  The articles were all well placed and wrapped around the graphics.  There was no unnecessary white space and the headers and leads were appropriately sized. This week’s edition of the gazette was going off without a hitch, which meant, something else was about to implode.

Yeah, that went against the whole power of positive thinking mantra, but so far in his life, this was the norm.  Good in one area meant difficulty in the other.

“Hey there, bossman.” Penny stuck her head into his office and addressed him with her usual irreverent respect. “Your pops on line two.”

“Thanks Penny.”

“Penelope, boss-ass, Penelope,” she said while closing the door.

Nick grabbed the handset and braced himself for the coming problem.  As the pack leader, everything came back to him to work out…even issues from the previous leader.  “Hey Pop, what’s going on?”

“Boy, get your mangy ass over to the Bighorn Diner and take control of your woman!”

“Excuse me? What did you say, old man?”

“You heard me fine.  Right now, that lovely young lady carrying my grandpup…who should be my daughter-in-law, by the way…is making trouble for my wife at the diner.  Go fix it now or I’ll nip your backside like I used to when you were young.”

“You could try old…”

“Nicolas, please…go take care of Ziva.”

Shite, Vernon McMahon rarely called him by his full first name.  His mom had called him Nicolas always, but dad only did it when he was concerned about something. “Yes, Sir.  I’ll head over now.”

“Good.” Click.

Nick hung up the phone and left via the door in his office.

###

Ziva pointed to her favorite yellow fruit from her seat at the front counter and hoped to hell she wasn’t drooling in public. “I’m thinking more pineapple, yep, pineapple.”

“Um, okay, Miss Ziva, but then you won’t be able to taste the mango.”

“Oh shite, you’re right.  Definitely add more mango as well.  Yep, just like that.  Hey is there a reason the strawberry flapjacks are taking so long?” Ziva asked, nibbling on the delicacy from the jar in front of her.

“Um, well, I…I,” the waitress stuttered while looking a little green around the gills. That was literal as the lovely lady helping her was a fish in her alternate form.

“That’s okay, Luna, I’ll talk to Ziva if you finish making her mango/pineapple smoothie.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

“Hey Elly, guess what…I’m finally keeping stuff down!  And man am I hungry.”

“That’s wonderful, dear.  I’m so glad.”

“So did I come at the wrong time for some strawberry flapjacks?”  Ziva raised her open jar and smiled at Elly McMahon.  “I even brought my own topping.”

“Yes, dear, about that…”

“Holy Lupa, Miss Elly, what died up on in here?”

Ziva turned to see Arglen, a lone wolf trucker who’d been sniffing after her aunt for years, bellow as he walked in the door.

“Arglen, that is not necessary…”

“Smells like dog farts.” The loud mouth barked. “It’s gonna make it hard to eat your delicious flappers.”

Ziva stood, her jar in hand and made her way over to the irritating brute.  “That was rude, Arglen.  There is no bad smell in here, apologize to Miss Elly. Now!” She shook her hand at him, splashing some of the contents of her lunch down his shirt.

“Fuc…dging hell, Ziva, it’s that stuff that smells and you got it all over me…what is wrong with you?  Nose out of whack?”

“My nose is fine, Arglen, this is delicious and it will compliment my strawberry flapjacks nicely.”

Ziva looked around as the diners in the seats around her all grimaced and gaged.  Elly shook her head with a half-smile and grabbed a to-go box from the server window.  Luna had her smoothie ready, also in a to-go glass and Nick came through the door, quickly covering his nose and mouth with his hand.

“Ziva-love.” He sauntered closer and took the jar from her, covering it with his hands and moved to the counter where she’d left the top. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting something to eat.”  She smiled at her alpha wolf, thrilled to finally be telling him the good news. “I’m keeping my food down now and I’m starved!”

“That’s wonderful….but, what are you ordering?”

“Strawberry flapjack, hash browns, a bowl of oatmeal with raisins and apples…yum, and a mango/pineapple smoothie.  Why?”

“What’s this for then?”

Ziva smiled as Nick waved her jar around.  “I’m going to sprinkle it on the flapjacks. I can’t wait!”
The room at large groaned and pushed their plates away, throwing her for a loop.  What was wrong with everyone?

“But it’s, it’s…”

“Sauerkraut. Wonderfully delicious sauerkraut.”

“Ziva, my love, you take the, um, sauerkraut and head outside.  Don’t open it until you’re outside.  I’ll get the rest of your food.”

“But…”

“We’ll have a picnic.”

“Awesome!”  Ziva turned toward the door, but still heard Nick and Elly’s whispered comments.

“Sauerkraut? Is she okay, Elly?”

“It’s just a craving, Nick.  It’s an odd one, sure, but it will pass in time.”

“But will my sense of smell ever be the same?”

Ziva didn’t listen to the rest of the exchange and focused on taking another bite of her cabbage-y treat.  Craving, huh.  Not likely. They just didn’t know what was good. 

~~~

Ha! Much as I like sauerkraut, I really can't imagine it with flapjacks, oatmeal and a smoothie.  I was lucky when I was pregnant with my Darling Diva...I craved steak, peanut butter and OJ.  Not at the same time though.

How about ya'll?  Any strange cravings you care to share?  :)

Have a great weekend!
Serena

Head Over Heel

It was never spoken of or planned among the Ewing siblings, but simply understood: on days when they knew the Bighorn Diner would be busy, they’d stop by if they could and help out. Today Bo and Mary showed up after closing, to find Hannibal already clearing off tables. “So how did it go?” Bo asked.

Their mother, Elly McMahon, came out of the kitchen and flopped down into a booth, tired but smiling. “The Bighorn Valentine’s Day Breakfast Special was a huge success. I had more cooing couples and served up more plates of strawberry flapjacks than I normally do in a month. And more blueberry, sadly.”

Deaf-mute Mary signed, Blueberry?

“For the single folks,” Hannibal explained. “Not everybody’s like us. Some folks can’t get a date.”

Mary went to the register to close out. Bo started wiping down. “Yeah, it’s a tough day for some,” Bo said. “One of the bars out by the exit is having a contest. Tell a bad Valentine’s Day story and get a free sympathy beer.”

“You’re set, right?” Han asked his mother.

“Depends.” Elly wiped her forehead with a napkin. “Vern’s serving beef heart at the Grease ‘n’ Grill. No way I’m going near the place, and I told him not to come home until he’s had a shower. Ooof, what a morning. Maybe I should try out for that beer.”

Vernon’s not so bad, Mary signed. As long as he brushes his teeth.

“Not with that story. I had a sucky Valentine’s once. It involved your father.”

That got their attention. Hannibal set his dirty dishes aside, Bo dropped his cloth, and Mary came out from behind the counter. They crowded into the booth. Hannibal’s bulk successfully penned Elly in. “Spill,” Bo said. “What about Dad? I thought you two had a perfect marriage.”

“Marriage, yes. Dating, though … that got a little rocky.” Elly leaned her elbows on the tabletop and peered off into the past. “He was quite the ram back then. He came down from Canada to play American football. You’ve got his size,” she said to Han, “but he was built more like you,” she added to Bo. “With a quick temper and a hard head,” she finished wryly to Mary. “But then, we’ve all got that. Comes with the horns.

 “Anyway, Jacques and I hit it off from the get-go. For months we were inseparable. But he was handsome and knew it, and there were always plenty of girls around who were more than willing to fawn all over the football hero. I knew he was slipping off to graze in other pastures. I gritted my teeth and put up with it because I was in love.

“Then Valentine’s Day rolled around. We had a date. I expected a romantic dinner and maybe a commitment. What I got was a phone call telling me he had practice and he’d see me when he was done.”

“Football practice?” Hannibal frowned. “In Montana? In February?”

“Exactly.” Elly nodded. “To say I was pissed would be an understatement. I’d been looking forward to this. I’d bought a new dress and everything. Well, I had some hawk friends, and they did an aerial recon and helped me track him down. He was having my romantic Valentine’s dinner at my favorite restaurant with some other girl. An elk, of all things. One of those long-faced cows with the big, bony knees. Well, that did it. I shifted right there in the restaurant. Ripped my dress and everything. I slammed him right in the gut and knocked Mr. Hotshot Football Hero flat on his ass.”

Bo whistled. “Whoa,” said Han.

“Yeah. Whoa. While he was lying there with spinach alfredo all over his best shirt, I shifted back and told him what a piece of shit he was and how I never wanted to see him again. Then I marched out of there. To thunderous applause, I might add.”

Did you get the elk too? Mary signed.

“Didn’t have to. She hightailed it when the table fell over. That cow wasn’t as stupid as she looked.”

“I’m assuming you and Dad got past that,” Hannibal said.

“Yeah. Funny thing. Seems getting publically butted by a PO’d bighorn ewe cleared your daddy’s head. The next morning he showed up at my house and begged my forgiveness. He was still wearing the shirt. It still had spinach on it. I slammed the door in his face. I did a lot of door-slamming over the next three weeks, but your daddy wouldn’t give up. Hard-headed, you know. My hawk buddies told me he wasn’t chasing any other girls. In fact, he was turning them down. So I decided to give him another chance. Now there was a courtship for the ages. Your dad could be quite the charmer when he wanted to be.

“Needless to say, our second Valentine’s Day went a helluva lot better than the first. That was the day I married him.” She patted Hannibal’s arm. “We almost made it three in a row, but you popped out a week early.”

Hannibal shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t regret a single second of the life I had with your father. Especially once I found out he loved cooking as much as I do. This diner was his dream just as much as mine. And every Valentine’s Day he woke me with breakfast in bed. Strawberry flapjacks. His specialty.” She dabbed a napkin at her eyes. “Damn dry air. Forget the beer. I could go for a cup of coffee.”

Instantly Mary scrabbled out of the booth and headed for the pot. Hannibal hugged his mother. “Sit back and relax. We’ve got this.”

“Are you sure? You haven’t seen the kitchen yet.”

“Mary’ll get that,” Bo said. Mary turned around just in time to catch the movement of his lips. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Careful there, sonny,” Elly said. “That girl butts like her mom. Now, which one of you fine young men wants to load the dishwasher?”

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