Death by Ploot Ploot (5 page)

“The leader walked up to
the men taking in their measure . . ."

Deana got up to
demonstrate by clasping her hands behind her back and strutting back and forth
in front of the three brothers.

Lorgin frowned at her.
Traed's brow furrowed. Rejar slowly crossed his eyes every time she went past.

"Finally, the
leader reached her decision!” Deana snapped her fingers. “She approached the
first man." Deana stopped in front of Traed and raised her voice to a
level befitting a ruler of warrior women. Something like Zsa Zsa Gabor in Queen
of Outer Space.

"You . . ."
She poked Traed's chest.
He did not move, just gazed slowly down at the finger and stared.

Realizing what she was
doing, Deana mentally
eeked
and quickly pulled back her hand. "You,
darlink
Aviaran, have violated ze laws of our land by coming here. You
must be punished!" She had to admit; she did a crappy Zsa Zsa
impersonation. But they wouldn’t know that.

Traed cocked his head to
the side. "Do I?" he drawled.

He didn’t seem
convinced.

Deana swallowed. Yes,
she was just telling a joke, and yes, he was probably teasing her in his own
way, but geesh! The man was
intimidating
.

She took a step back and
bravely forged on. "Yes, darlink. However, because ve are a merciful
people, you may decide your punishment. You may
choose either ze death or ze Ploot Ploot."

"Ploot Ploot?"
Yaniff
parroted, confounded.

"Ploot Ploot."
Traed deadpanned.

"Very vell, Ploot
Ploot eet iz!" Deana chirped, as if Traed had actually made a choice.

She went on in her
regular voice. "All of a sudden, twenty-five of their best female warriors
came screaming out of the bushes."

"There
are bushes?" Rejar asked innocently.

She
gave her brother-in-law a patent look. There
was NO innocence when it came to that
guy. "There are always bushes. These twenty-five women attack this poor
Charl, throwing him to the ground. They proceed to have their way with him . .
.“ She pierced them all with a glinty-eyed look just in case they weren’t
getting the whole scope of the horrifying scenario. “
Every
way with
him."

Rejar leaned into his
brother, whispering, "This is a punishment? Is she serious?"

Lorgin threw his brother
a sideways glance. “I am not sure,” he murmured back. When it came to his wife,
he had learned it was best to keep alert at all times.

"His companions
watch this strange happening, at first thinking it might not be so bad . . .
until they see these woman are relentless! They attack him non-stop, forcing
him to participate in every imaginable transgression until he is all but dead
from–"

In a rare event, Krue
threw back his head and laughed heartily. His sons all joined in with him.

Even Yaniff's eyes were
twinkling suspiciously; although the wizard managed to contain himself, his
shoulders were shaking. Bojo listed to the side on his master's shoulder, his
bald head twisting upside down.

Deana clenched her
fists. "No! Wait! That is not the punch line!"

Lorgin chuckled.
"Surely, it must be as this is no punishment for a man, Adeeann."

"Any
Aviaran warrior could manage
but twenty-five women," Traed added seriously.

"Only
twenty-five?"
Rejar
scoffed. "A Familiar would nap in between."

At that Yaniff, Krue, and
Lorgin absolutely guffawed. Deana noticed that even though she was supposed to
be sleeping, Suleila's lips curved as well.

"You do tell an
amusing tale, Adeeann." Traed nodded his head to her in appreciation.

"
Grrrr.
BUT
that is not the punch line!" Taking a deep breath she tried again.

"After they were
done with him, they tossed him
to the side,
barely alive.
Ooooooo.
" The scary sound
did nothing for
atmospheric effect with these lugs. They all gave her concerned looks.
Undaunted, she forged on.

“Now, remember his
comrades had witnessed
this. So, the leader
approaches the next Charl . . ."

She trotted over to
Rejar and looked into his beautiful face.

"Yes, o'
leader?" He hands covered his heart theatrically. "I take it I am to
be similarly punished." He bent forward and spoke sotto voce, "Please
be sure to adjust the number of attackers suitably. I have my pride."

Traed lifted a brow.
"You think to better my twenty-five assailants?"

Rejar clicked his tongue
dismissively and followed it with a slow sexy smile.

Deana lowered her voice
to issue the decree. "Eez it death or Ploot Ploot?"

Two dimples curved his
cheeks. His white teeth flashed in a sensual grin, "Oh, I
insist
on
Ploot Ploot."

More laughter.

"Very well!"
Still in character, Deana lowered her voice and called out, "Ploot
Ploot!"

"Here they come,
brother," Lorgin quipped.

"It is a good thing
for you Lilac is not here, Rejar," Yaniff snickered.

Suleila spoke with her
eyes still closed. "Husband, it is fortunate you are not on this
expedition as well . . . for I would surely have to kill all of these women and
I am much too listless to do so in this heat."

More laughter.

"
Argh!
Stay
with the story, people!" Deana gritted her teeth, and blew her hair off of
her forehead in exasperation. “Fifty women come rushing forth. This time it is
much worse–"

"Or better,"
Rejar waggled his eyebrows. Lorgin laughed.

Unperturbed, she
continued on. "When they are done with him, the poor fellow is barely
alive."

"Clearly
not
a
Familiar," Rejar confirmed.

"She already said
they were Charl," Suleila said to her son, earning her a playful pinch
from her husband, Krue.

"Is not your son a
Charl as well?" he challenged her. She shrugged noncommittally. Just to
get his dander up.

“Do you think Charl
lacking in any way, my Suleila?" Krue drawled to his wife.

A slow smile spread
across her face. "I admit
one Charl
can please
one
woman very, very well.”

Deana cleared her throat
loudly to regain the floor. "Seeing what has happened to his other two
comrades, the third Charl knows what is coming . . . !"

She sauntered over to
stand in front of her husband. "He thinks to himself, this is a horrible
fate to behold–"

This time even Bojo fell
over in gasps of ribald screeching.

"Punishment too
nightmarish to even contemplate," Traed intoned drolly.

"But . . .!"
Deana lifted her finger. "He realizes that where there is life there is
hope!"

Rejar also raised his
finger as if he were a teacher imparting great wisdom. "Especially if
there is life in certain places!"

Krue chucked his
youngest son up the backside of his head.

"On the other hand,
this Charl had witnessed too much. He also did not want to suffer like his
comrades . . . "

Yaniff stroked his chin.
"When you are as old I
am such suffering
can be yearned for. Perhaps even
begged
for. Why did I not send
myself on such a journey?"

Traed snorted.
"Because, you always seem to send me in your stead."

Yaniff shrugged,
unrepentant. "And did I not tell you, you would thank me one day?"

Rejar ducked, expecting
Traed to pull out his light sabre and lob off the old wizard's head. But the
dark-haired man merely stared blankly at the old man. Not amused. Or amused.
His secret.

Deana was not about to
be dissuaded. She was finally nearing the end.

Lorgin stood as she
approached him. Looming tall above her, he stared down at her through his dark
lashes. His incredible amethyst eyes flashed intermittently. On standby, no
doubt.

"Death
or Ploot Ploot?" she asked.

"Death,"
his low voice declared
firmly.

Deana blinked at him.

His eyes sparked at her.
"I would rather die than commit 'Ploot Ploot' with anyone else but you,
Adeeann."

Awwww.
The whole St. Valentine’s Day concept?
He completely nailed it
with those words. Leave it to the big galoot to get perfectly, wonderfully
mushy and almost ruin her punch line at the same time!

Oh, who was she fooling;
he had her at “death”.

However a joke was at
stake here and she took her jokes seriously. She squared her shoulders. Lowered
her voice.

"The leader nodded
and raised her hands high in the air. She loudly proclaimed: Death . . .”

Pause, wait for it.

“By Ploot Ploot!"

Everyone
roared.

Deana was pretty sure
the joke would find its way around Aviara in various and sundry forms until it
was all but unrecognizable.

Her work was done.

What was more, the
‘barbeque’ wasn’t half-bad either.

The next day, when Deana
returned home from a trip to the local version of a brewery where she had
arranged for a delivery of mir for Yaniff, she was not surprised to find the
family in various states of 'flop' around her yard. It was still very warm out
and it was much cooler in the Tree.

What she was surprised
about was the stack of items piled in the center of the main level.

"What is
this?" she called out to anyone who would answer.

"They are presents
for you, Adeeann," Lorgin responded without glancing up from the laughing
face of his daughter who was bouncing merrily on his knee.

"Presents
for me? What do you mean?"

"For
St. Stooges Day, Adeeann," Suleila beamed
at her. "We have all brought you
gifts to show you how much we care for you as you asked."

Oh, God.
Deana covered her face
with her hands.
They didn't.
She peeked through her fingers verifying
the mountain of gifts.
They did.

How had they
misinterpreted her like this? Why did Aviarans get everything bass ackwards?
She groaned.

"We want you to
feel at home, daughter," Krue added.

Eep.
Now she really felt like
a tool. "I didn't want you to– that is, I–"

Lorgin stopped bouncing
Melody to look at her. "What is it?"

"Well, you don't
quite have the gist of it . . . although I thank you for these great presents.
You
see, you don't give one person gifts .
. . this is about
conveying your
intimate
thoughts with a gesture
or a token of–""

Lorgin's brow instantly lowered
and his lips flattened. "I pray this is not like a ‘
pan-el
’
discussion, Adeeann."

Her husband had been
introduced to the art of panel discussions at the science fiction convention
they had attended. Years ago. And he was
still
irritated over the pompous
moderator! Every now and then he still threatened to go back and
skewer
the
obnoxious professor.

"No, no, nothing
like that. You all don't give a gift to me, you give gifts to your special
loved one."

As this germ of information
sank in, Suleila immediately brightened. "You mean our mates gives us
gifts?" She gave Deana a meaningful glance which Deana had no trouble
interpreting. It said, girl, do not blow this for womankind.

"I, er, th-that's
right. The men give us gifts."

Suleila straightened out
her clothing and went to stand beside her favorite (for the moment)
daughter-in-law. Smiling sweetly and innocently at Krue, her engaging demeanor
implied:
What can I do? It is their custom.

Bolstered by the
support, Deana started to elaborate a bit. "That's right. The man must
give a gift to his mate on this day to show her how much he loves her."

Rejar seem concerned and
for the right reasons. Bless him. "Only once a year? That does not seem
right. Familiar men gift their mates throughout the year . . . "

"You
have so raised him right," she whispered to Suleila, who snorted
discreetly back at her.

Deana cleared her
throat. "Ahem, this is not meant to interfere with that. This is, ah,
extra, if you will. A special day. For romance." The women of Aviara
deserved a day of appreciation. They would thank her one day.

“Hmmm." Rejar
thought it over quickly. "I like this St. Stooges Day idea. When Lilac
returns, I shall engage it upon her."

Deana coughed into her
hand, trying not to think of how the wild Familiar would carry
that
out.
She almost felt sorry for the poor unsuspecting Lilac and wished there was some
way she could warn the hapless woman beforehand.