Re: A message arrives in Mohicanland.....

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Posted by Mohicanland Chroni-girls on November 14, 2000 at 15:31:30:

In Reply to: Re: A message arrives in Mohicanland..... posted by Red-Haired Lass on November 13, 2000 at 21:20:36:

: : As fires raged in one part of Mohicanland, it was quite another story in the little corner occupied by the Huggy Merchant. Torrential rain and rising rivers had left her somewhat damp. As she stood hanging out her dripping wet ‘thoughts’ on her already full washing line (next to the freshly washed blue checked jammies), she saw the Huron Delivery Boy rush up clutching a rather crumpled piece of paper in his hands. Stopping dead in his tracks, his chin dropped to the floor and an unintelligible stream of mumbling emitted from his mouth. The Huggy Merchant, who normally had the sweetest of temperaments, was in no mood for small talk. “What are you looking at, sir?” she snapped. “Why, I am looking at you, miss” he finally muttered. It was at this point that Huggy realised that in her rather damp condition, her nice little white frilly blouse (a present from Miss Katie of the Quilte Shoppe) was quite transparent. The Huron Delivery Boy pulled himself together sufficiently well to hand over the rather crumpled piece of paper, stated that it was a message from Ilse and skulked off in the direction of Bumppos. “Who the f*ck is Ilse?” thought Huggy, and then realised that it was the alter ego of a certain Dutch Trader. The message was to the point, in DT’s inimitable style.

: :
: : Fellow Traders:

: : At the recent meeting of the Mohicanland Traders Guild, we voted to elect a new Chief Trader and as you know, before the French Trader could issue one note of ‘Hail to the Chief’ on his bagpipes, there were demands for second and even third counting of hands. Ok, so it was not the best thing to give the responsibility for counting to E.Lane who as we all know, has trouble counting, she just doesn’t know when to stop.....six, seven, eight, nine? It didn’t help that the Huron Delivery Boy had left a couple of spare hands lying around which the Canadian Trader thought could be used to her advantage. Still, the point is, we need to meet at Bumppos tonight to.......finish this.

: : Dutch Trader

: : PS Huggy Merchant, we have not seen eye to eye (or even black eye to black eye) recently, *snort*, but I say wah-ta-heck, lets call a truce. What do you say? Lets get together over some Chaw-co-lat and genever and patch things up.

: :
: : The Huggy Merchant frowned, she had come to distrust the Dutch Trader, particularly after the last two black eyes, but never one to hold a grudge, decided to give DT a second chance. She made a mental note to wander over to Bumppos later and returned to clearing out her flooded house.

: : Meanwhile.....over at Bumppos......

: So and would this be the reason me Huron Delivery Boy shows up tonight for Red's weekly foot rub soakin' wet and babblin' somethin' about the Dutch and traders an' blouses? An' nary a look at Red's newest Wench blouse, sent to her by special delivery from Aunt Aggie for a late Samhain (Halloween) present? Why, it's a peach linen wench blouse with cream lace an' black velvet lacings, but who's to notice it now, may I ask? The Huron Delivery Boy's come down with a nasty cold, me feet are achin' from standin' last night servin' up squeezins' to a flock o'lost trappers who insisted on havin' a billiards tournament (and where may I ask, was Doc M to pass out under the tables? Always provides a fun distraction...) Well, if ye be makin' yer way to Bumppo's, I'll be there servin' up the squeezins and o'course, Wench on the Rocks per request o'the Gnome, but I'd be askin' ye to bring with ye some herbs and linaement to heal the poor Delivery Boy. And by the way, due to the stress Red and Mrs. O' Reilly ha' been under recently, we're offerin' a special "Nurture That Inner Magua" class tomorra night as well. Just in time for the holidays!
: Yers, with achin' arches,
: Red
: PS ...well, maybe things aren't so rough after all. After puttin' the Huron Delivery Boy to bed with a poultice on his chest, I got a knock on me door. Seems as that nice Nathaniel has come an' offered his foot rubbin' services...


Meanwhile at Dutch Trader's Casa....

"WAKE UP!", Ilse yelled at the Dutch Trader, who was taking a peaceful nap, "you're supposed to head over to Bumppo's tonight." "Oh, shut up," Dutch said, "you've had your 15 minutes already. Now beat it."

Dutch decided to pay E.Lane a visit first, to see how the counting was coming along. She opened the door and saw E.Lane sitting in the middle of the room, surrounded by a blizzard of white papers. Canadian had turned on three enormous fans to keep the papers airborne. In a far corner the French Trader unsuccessfully laboured to keep the papers out of his bagpipes.

"Close the door, eh?", Canadian said, "we wouldn't want to lose votes."
"Ah wah-tah-heck," Dutch replied, "Let's turn this stuff into confetti and throw a big party at Bumppo's, yes? Maybe Huggy has some GEN-YOO-WINE Swiss chaw-co-lats to share this time."

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