Name's Renard Breen. Haven't heard of me, eh? Well, I'm not too surprised. I don't run a country, I'm not planning to take over the world, I'm not famous for anything, and I've never actually killed anyone. Well, I almost did once, but, well, it really was the girl's fault, not mine.
You see, I work for Mr. Windon as a sort of assistant. Well, not sort of, actually, I am his assistant. His right hand man, in fact -- except that I'm not a man. I'm actually a piskie, though I've got the old man tricked into thinking I'm a brownie with some extra powers. There's a big difference, you know. Brownies, well, they're fools, really. Work, work, work for the master, and never a bit of fun for the one doing the work. Piskies, though, we look a lot like them, but we like trickery to liven up the workday a mite.
Well, getting back to the old man, Mr. Windon that is, he's got a daughter what went astray a few years back. Married a fella the old man didn't approve of -- some self-made bloke what didn't come from old money. Not a drop of blue blood in him. The old man cut her off, figuring she'd give in and leave the fella, but she married him and seemed perfectly happy to leave things as they were. The old man didn't take to that well; he tried paying off the guy several times, tried to trick him into a tight squeeze with a blonde, you get the idea. Nothing worked -- the bloke was tied tight to the girl, and liked it that way.
So one day, the old man finds out about my powers. I tell him I'm a brownie to cover things up, and not knowing a bit about faerie lore, the old man swallows it whole. Figures since I work for him already, maybe I ought to do an extra job. I pretend I can't, and finally the old man pays me a good generous sum to get the girl away from her husband. Next Mr. Windon pays off a courthouse clerk and a judge, and they forge divorce papers. Now we get to my part.
I'm supposed to wipe clean the girl's memory from the past few years, sos they can tell her she's got amnesia and then convince her she divorced her husband, and that he was a lout, and abusive, and all sorts of other malarky. Now I got paid to do the job, but I'm a piskie first and greedy second. So, I decide to do the job in my own way. I wipe her memory even more than I'm supposed to -- almost all of it, in fact! Course, I had no way of knowing she would hop into a car just before my memory charm took effect . . .
Yup, you guessed it, the girl started driving, then forgot how. Down a steep road she goes, over the side, flips into a ravine. Lucky to be alive. There's an awful lot of deer where she was driving, so they figure she must have swerved to keep from hitting one. I tell the old man I never got the chance to do the charm until she was already in the hospital, and he buys it. Thinks she really has got amnesia, on top of having her memory wiped a bit. He gets her safely tucked away in that big mansion of his, puts some nurses in charge of her, and the plan gets off to a flying start. Easy as pie, right?
Well sir, that's where things got whinnyzonked. The husband isn't keen on losing the girl and figures somethings up. He breaks in to the mansion looking for the girl, but she's convinced he's a cad and won't go with him. She gets him thrown out, but he comes back later. I happened to be there right then, doing work for the old man, and it seemed like it might be funny to let the fella take his wife -- especially since she doesn't know him from Adam. And that's the whole mess, all spelled out. The fella's got the girl stashed away, she thinks he kidnapped her, the old man is fit to be tied, and I'm having a grand old time. I love trouble; that is, other people's trouble.
Well, time to be off again. I'm going to go mess with the traffic lights for awhile -- it's one of my favorite evening sports. Toodle-oo and abyssinia!
P.S. If anyone needs a bit of trouble caused for a good low price, give me a call on the ole ameche.
Hmmm...sounds like you're quite the creative type. But really, you should trying killing a couple of people, I promise you there's nothing else like it.
ReplyDeleteYou people are deeply twisted. And I'm a pirate and a mercenary saying that.
ReplyDeleteMurder's not really my gig, you know? Once a person's dead, you can't have fun with them anymore. It's sorta like burning a deck of cards and then trying to play poker.
ReplyDeleteFinnias, we would prefer that you not try to lead Renard into improper behavior. Renard, you really ought to consider writing about these actions rather than actually doing them. Actually, all of you on here should.
ReplyDeleteSee, you say that, but it wouldn't be nearly as much fun that way.
ReplyDelete