Our Story - as much of it that can be told that is...

Story One - Chapter Three

The Rescue Mission

It was a wonderfully sunny Saturday, and the young Rhinosasauris was still half asleep when he arrived downstairs.

Everyone else was spread around the living room, knee deep in bagels, coffee, raspberry jam and several newspapers. The Dragons were over by the window, practicing signing their names by holding a pen in their coiled tails. They were going to apply for American Express cards they said.

Hearing the hubbub the Rhinosasauris slowly stuck his head around the corner and peered into the living room. ArchiBold McOinqle nudged Zita’s leg. She looked up and asked their latest guest if he wanted anything special for breakfast, “A small cup of black coffee would be quite nice, and the bagels look quite scrumptious.” he said.

“Well if you go into the kitchen and pick out a coffee cup for yourself you will find the coffee maker is on the counter the cream is in the fridge, make yourself at home.” said Craig.

He returned with a large mug with a big handle - Rhinosasauris don’t have small dainty hands as you might have guessed. When he was settled and the tray of bagels had been passed round several times, introductions were made all round.

When Dugal was introduced Colonel, The Honourable, Dugal Blackthorn-Badger, late of the 79th Regiment of Foot, the small Rhinosasauris said, “Oh you must be THE Blackthorn-Badger - who single-handedly cleaned out the old bazaar in upper Aden! You might remember my older brother. He was stationed there at that time.”

“Why of course I remember him, big laddie. Quite a nice fellow, a fine sense of humour, could throw a grenade sixty feet while doing his daily practice on The Pipes. Haven’t heard from him in a while. Have you?”

The young Rhinosasauris took a long sip of his coffee and said quite softly, but with certain resolution, “I am very sorry to have to be the one to tell you this - my brother has been held captive for near two years now, by the most despicable sort of Burbary Pyrates. I have tracked down their address, in Algeciras, but I have been unable to find anyone audacious enough to help me intervene in that cauldron of intrigue. Now I am thousands of miles away; in a place of strangers, and I really don’t know what to do. I must admit to being very, very troubled about his future you see.”

The Colonel stomped over and tapped the Rhinosasauris’s knee with his walking stick and said softly, “Hardly strangers laddie. Hardly Strangers. I’ve known your big brother near on 50 years and Craiglellachie-liath (The Colonel always called everyone by their Gaelic names, if they were fortunate enough to have one), has already given me permission to mount a rescue mission”

A RESCUE MISSION! shouted everyone at the same time. The dragons dropped their pens, Zita dropped her bagel, the Queen’s Own and the TBears came tumbling down the stairs. A RESCUE MISSION? A RESCUE MISSION! they all shouted and began to look for the Abercrombie and Fitch catalogues.

Oh dear God! thought Craig.

Much fervent discussion and two tubs of Hagan Däs “Swiss Vanilla Burnt-Almond” later they settled on a strategy; the Colonel would call on all his bygone colleagues to get some facts about exactly where his old friend, the Rhinosasauris might be held and what were the chances of changing the situation.

Zita kept muttering about flying columns, Michael Collins, her great uncle Joe, and the Black and Tans, but it was to no avail.


Chapter Four

The Book Store Assault

Two weeks later Dugal carefully strolled into the living room. He looked behind the chairs and under the end tables. He reached up and plucked a small paper note which had been tucked under the brim of his tam and said in his softest voice, “Andreis NicoNikolovitch has given me the code, and we have sent a counterfeit telegram to that address the wee lad gave us. They will soon be transferring him to that grimy bookstore with the trashy novels.”

(If the truth were to be told, for the previous few weeks Colonel Dugal had been very difficult to live with and Craig did not even want to guess who Andreis NicoNikolovitch was, or where he came from; much less why he gave Dugal any codes, much less secret ones.)

A few days later while on the highway, coming home from the Research Centre in Montreal, the phone rang. It was the Rhinosasauris.

“My brother has arrived! And he is locked-up in that dreadful bookstore! The staff is getting very suspicious, as they have no record of his being ordered and the seven dollars of duty and the GST on him has yet to be paid!

Now the Colonel and the Queen’s Own Pigs are planning to conduct a cutting-out raid this very evening, after evensong.; while I don’t really want to express my apprehension; some of them really have not had much experience in this sort of work before - though to their great credit, they have studiously watched all your John Wayne movies, and read each of the Hornblower books - twice - to just see how it should be carried out, but I am just a wee bit concerned, the Colonel has been retired for some years now, you know.”

He knew only too well, “Pass on these orders please. Take all The Queen’s Own and establish a forward picket in the upstairs porch. Stock up on the ice cream and cold Tonic Water, better add some Scotch for the Colonel I guess. Boil some water and make bandages—and don’t rip up any of the sheets or it will take more than his friends in the GRU to save Dugal from Zita. Wait for further orders” and he hung up.

Craig lay down the phone. “I should have listened to Zita and contracted all of this foolishness out to her relatives.” he thought to himself. He told the Blue Car to keep a close lookout for the Provincial Police, and wondered why General Motors thought if the speedometer only went up to 140km. you would stop there, after all there was lots of room left on the tachometer - but not for long.

He reached the terrorist’s bookstore ten minutes before closing. His great uncle Austin’s pistol felt suddenly inconsequential in his jacket’s pocket, but it would never have bothered “The Duke” so he mentally re-played the all the important bits from “She Wore A Yellow Ribbon”. Buoyed-up he entered the store. He carried the cardboard box of Esso receipts he kept in the car - at 14 miles to the gallon there were many of them.

Approaching the front counter, with his back to the staff he fired twice into big front windows - as they shattered and crashed to the floor he threw the box of receipts on the counter.

“Oh my God! The despicable capitalist swine are trying to sell all my complimentary tickets to The Kamsack National Ukrainian Folk Dancing Festival and Plenary Rally - for a profit! Help me!”

Their training held true. The staff immediately began to eat the pieces of paper. Craig raced for the Harlequin Romance section. There tethered to a box of publishers clearances was a large, rather bedraggled and bewildered Rhinosasauris. In spite of his condition, he was furiously trying to saw through his shackles with the rough edge of his belt buckle. His pith helmet, was planted precisely four square on his head. (You see Rhinosasauri are all very well brought up, and never have been known to give up hope, or neglect their personal appearance.)

Craig shouted “Colonel Blackthorn-Badger has sent me! Stand back please!” The gun fired twice more; the chains crumbled.

“Jump!” he cried and the Rhinosasauris sort of staggered over the ledge and rather inelegantly fell to the floor. The two raced for the far doors. As they turned down the corner to freedom, three ex-librarian types tried to stop them, but he yelled “Bankers are Xeroxing the dictionary in the back room.”

The hulks screamed “Copyright!”, grabbed fire axes and raced to the rear.

The Blue Car was waiting, exhaust rumbling, transmission in low, door open, and Stan Rogers in the tape deck. Craig helped the stumbling Rhinosasauris through the open roof and scrambled in after him.

The scene behind them was apocalyptic - axe brandishing turncoat bibliophiles marching down the street, advancing on the Royal Bank Headquarters - being met by hoards of grim faced accountants - fresh from evicting Saskatchewan farmers by mail. It was truly fearful. He was glad they had escaped, though rather ashamed at the cost; but it was in a good cause - and all his relatives out west would most certainly approve.

By the time they reached home, all was quite calm - aside from the roar of the fire engines and the noise the RCMP’s Musical Ride made as they rushed to quell the riot downtown.

They pulled into the back yard, to be greeted by the entire Animeaux population, carrying “Welcome To The Royal Ottawa Winter Fair” and “God Save Good King George” banners. (It was all they could find on such short notice.) There was a babble of conversation, in English, Gaelic, and Rhini.

Profuse thanks were delivered and not a few tears shed. Dugal and his old comrade stood apart and fondly shook hands. Two glasses of the Colonel’s “Special Reserve Stock” appeared, and a toast to “True Friends and Far Places” was drunk. (The glasses were not thrown into the fireplace. Dugal being a Scot, and the glasses were his great-uncle Angus’s after all.)

(The two Rhinosasaurises phoned home – collect - to tell their parents that the rescue had come off without a hitch, and to request that their Stately Security Service should be informed and should take the appropriate measures against the cowardly fiends who had initiated the shabby scheme - and by the way if they wouldn’t mind just giving a quick call to inform the Second Cultural Attaché at the Israeli embassy of their safe return.)

The Dragons and the Queen’s Own, and the entire company of TeddyBears were all introduced, and hands shaken all around. There was a fair amount of stammering and “Might you like a fresh dish of ice cream? or, Would you like to borrow my nearly best tartan dressing gown?” going on.

Obviously there had never been a real knock-em-down, shoot-em-up rescue conducted by the household before, and there was no real precedent for either Craig or the Animeaux to fall back on. So they decided to celebrate the glorious occasion by the issuing of Honours. Craig called for order (many times), and presided over the handing out of Courageous Campaign Commendations and the dishing out of more ice cream. Everyone got medals, even more got ice cream.

When Zita arrived home she was introduced to the new Rhinosasauris, while the TeddyBears and the Queen’s Own tried in vain to clean up the living room.

Later while sitting around the living room they all decided to order out to Mrs. Mitzi’s for Chinese food, except for the Queen’s Own who wanted to go to McDonalds for triple McHagis Burgers. Zita stopped the argument in its tracks. She closed the kitchen door behind her, removed the thermos of tea from under her arm, “No one is leaving the house until I know what is going on - or I run out of tea....” (If this had been a soap opera - a commercial would have now have begun.)