The Great Hamster Adventure-A Pub Crawl

[Wilmer]

Editor's Note: These stories that appear from time to time in The Pub are just a bit of silliness that has been a tradition at The Druid’s Head and at The Foggy Duck for many years. In this story you'll see names of people you may recognize. Just because you don't see your name here doesn't mean that you can't participate. Please write yourself in if you'd like, and in that way we may get to know you. The only "rule," if there is one, is that we try to pick up the story from where the previous poster left it, and to include at least some of those elements in whatever comes next. Storytelling is a bardic pursuit, and although it’s hard to imagine Taliesin telling stories quite like these, it is entirely possible that by your participation, you could be immortalized in The Attic.

Wilmer pulled the mini Harley out of Merlyn’s garage as quietly as a hamster could. It was after midnight and Merlyn and family had just settled down. He could hear Merlyn snore through the open window and wondered how Mrs. Merlyn ever slept. Then he realized that the reason the snores were so loud was because there were two dragons sleeping on the roof. He sighed, and placed a note with all of the extra seed he had by the back door for Merlyn to find in the morning. One of the dragons, Snarg, stirred, snorted and went back to sleep. Wilmer breathed a sigh of relief. That would be all he would need is to have that dragon wake up and stop him. One sticky Band-Aid and Wilmer would be stopped dead in his tracks.

He pulled the Harley quietly out of the yard and when he felt he was far enough away from the house not to be heard, he zipped up his black leather coat, tied his bandana around his head, hoped on the bike, ready to begin his adventure. He wasn’t sure where he was going yet. He just know that someone had taken his sweet gal Myrtle and he thought he knew who by the paw prints left in the moist earth: Rancid. That nasty, flea-bitten canine had come and stolen his poor Myrtle right out from under his nose. The only clues were the paw prints and a small piece of Portabello Mushroom. Wilmer knew that he needed his friends to help find his main squeeze. So he was off toward Texas for advise from Billy Joe Bob, a well-known heartthrob. Perhaps Billy Joe Bob’s grandmother, Esther Fodd, could read the tea-leaves and tell him just why Mr. Rancid ran off with his woman. And since he was there, he thought he would check in on Dryadia2, a vixen with that belly-dancing of hers. Maybe she could help convince Rancid to repent of his evil ways with that winning smile. He started the engine and all that could be heard as he sped down the street was the squeal of his little tires and a squeaky little voice singing Born to be Wild.

Snarg watched the scene in amusement and chuckled to himself. He had been sent by Kat Lady to make sure Wilmer was alright. He should his great dragon’s head. He could sense an adventure beginning. He smelled the danger, the excitement, the bean burritos he had for dinner. In a poof, he took to the air, becoming as the clouds to go find Kat Lady and give her the news.

Merlyn stumbled out the door at 7:00 am and tripped over the pile of seed that was at his feet. “Wilmer!” he bellowed, waking the remaining dragon on the roof. He looked down and picked up the piece of paper under the seed. But age was getting to him and he could hardly make out the tiny scratches on the paper. He ran to the garage and flinging open the door, went to his work bench and found his magnifying glass. He read the words before him once, twice, three times (a very druidic number by the way) and could not believe his eyes. What would become of the little guy in the cold, cruel world? What would he tell Kat Lady when she discovered her precious pet was missing, and who was going to feed all of those baby hamsters? “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” was the anguished cry that was heard as far as …

Crow was just sitting down to breakfast, gently rubbing the most recent bump Mrs. Crow had given him with her turbo rolling pin when he heard an anguished cry. It was a sound so wrenching that it made his feathers stand on end. He looked at the Front Page of the Pagan Press and he felt the blood drain from his face as he read, Rotweiler goes insane and kidnaps unsuspecting rodents. He sighed and realized then and there that this was NOT going to be a good day…

[Merlyn]

Merlyn shuffeled about and noticed the chopper that Wilmer was working on was gone and the cage door had been opened by a lock pick "Damn I should watch what I let those hamsters learn from American Chopper and move the cage into the back room". All the commotion had aroused Cinder, the basement Dragon, who came thumping up the steps, with a cup of molten java. "Brummmph!" cinder said "What's all this noise going on so early, I smell smells...RRRRrrancid! That diabolical dog has been HERE! AGAIN!"

"Come on Cinder" we need to visit WolfWalker, only he can track rancid and wilmer, where ever they went" A louder noise still errupted from the old house on the hill, as a thunder, Merlyn fired up his Harley tied his staff and mead horn to the back and rode off as Cinder flew closely over head.

Old Ester Fodd looked out her window.."Damn that dragon! he burned my hybiscus plants again!!"

...............................................................

[Donata]

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” was the anguished cry that was heard as far as … "

Verne Nemeton, where Donata's wail of dismay alerted her German Shepherd companion, Tara, to the situation. Who should she look for first? (GS are wll known for prowess in scenting and finding, and Tara is a very intelligent and talented GS!). Tara and Donata discussed it.......

Myrtle could be in danger! Is Tara aggressive enough to confront Rancid???
RANCID????

Bravely Tara pulled herself together and started the chase.....

She began in VA, where the dragons were friendly - maybe she thought, because of the little blue and green dragon she's friendly back home in the woods of Verne Nemeton.....

The dragons pointed her in the direction to go.....

[Kitten]

GreenEyes woke up suddenly from where she lay on GreenDruid's bed. She searched for and found her telepathic link to her human friend and said "Mummy, something is happening. There are lots of mice for me to catch and curtains for me to climb. Please take me to the pub down the street."
GreenDruid woke up and said "Ok, Kitten, let's go".
Kitten grinned to herself. She loved her human dearly, GD was always letting her roam free and do as she pleased.
She and her human friend walked the three blocks to the pub and went in.
Kitten stayed in GD's pocket so nobody would see her straight away. She loved to surprise people.
GD sat down at a table and ordered a chocolate milk. The milk came and Kitten sneaked out and drank a little then went back in the pocket.
People began to trickle into the pub for breakfast...

[Crow]

Crow threw down his morning newspaper and tried to clear his head with a sip of coffee. But there was that headline, still staring up at him from the kitchen table.

He thought again of canceling his subscription to The Pagan Press and taking the crosstown rival Druid Daily instead, but he knew his boss at The Press, Charles Payne, would find out about such a show of disloyalty and he'd suffer for it.

Sighing, he picked up the paper again, knowing that he'd have to leave for the office in less than an hour, and he'd better know the details by the time he got there. He started to read:

Rottweiler goes insane and kidnaps unsuspecting rodents

BY SELENE
PAGAN PRESS SUMMER INTERN

Pet owners throughout the Foggy Downs District were in shock yesterday at the loss of their hamsters.

Police said that 25 of the odoriferous but loveable rodents were reported missing within a two hour period, and that the elite Missing Rodent Task Force (MRTF) had been called to investigate.

Foggy Downs District Police Sergeant EarthWard said investigators are perplexed. "Twenty-five hamsters gone in a two-hour period seems suspicious. One owner heard a squeak, ran into the kitchen, and her hamster, Esmerelda, was gone, though her cage wheel was still spinning, it happened that fast."

EarthWard said investigators had a suspect in mind, but until more evidence could be found, he was reluctant to say more. "We attempted to round up the usual suspects, and, well, one of the usual suspects was missing. So until we find this hardened and ugly criminal, I'll have no further comment."

But sources that wished to remain anonymous told this reporter that the footprints of a large dog -- unmistakably those of a Rottweiler -- had been found in the vicinity of several empty hamster cages throughout the district.

In other news, in a possibly related incident, an elderly American woman currently staying at Lorraine's Wayward Druid Bed & Breakfast, reported to police that she had witnessed a hamster riding a miniature Harley Davidson motorcycle in the early morning hours, and that the rodent took a corner too fast, lost control, and nearly struck her before sliding into a hibiscus plant that she had been examining.

"I'm an old woman and I've seen lots of strange things in my time," said Esther Fodd, "but this was a first, seeing a hamster on a Harley." When asked how she knew the tiny machine was indeed a Harley Davidson, Mrs. Fodd said, "My grandson, Billy Joe Bob from Texas, once had a Harley, and I'd recognize that engine rumble anywhere."

But not everyone was convinced. Lily, also a guest at The Wayward Druid, said, "A hamster on a miniature Harley? Frankly, I'm very skeptical."

Mrs. Fodd, meanwhile, seemed none the worse for wear after her close encounter and seemed more concerned about the hibiscus. "Really it was an act of mercy for the hibiscus. Lorraine runs a lovely B&B, but she really doesn't know anything about growing a hibiscus. That poor thing was close to being dead anyway."

Until more can be known about the missing hamsters, police sergeant EarthWard advised all pet owners to take extra precautions with their rodents.

Crow sighed again. He knew that he'd be assigned to follow up this story, and he had a good idea of where to start. You didn't work 30 years in the newspaper business and not learn a few things. The usual suspects, he thought. It could be only one: Rancid!

He finished his coffee and flew out the door.

[Wolfwalker]

Far off on the eastern point of an island in the Atlantic, Wolfwallker was snapped upright, heart racing, by the scream that resounded off the cliffs behind his house. Whipping on robes as he ran through the house gathering things, he whistled two or three times before the large greenish head of Chessie his water dragon snuffled inthrough the kitchen window, irate at being woken at this early hour... it wasn't even noon yet!
Wolfwalker was already fastening the long black travelling cloak and snoopy flying helmet & goggles as he waved the fresh copy of the Pagan Press (Canadian Ed.) in front of her bleary eyes.. "That damn Rancid!" Wolfwalker roared, "This time he's gone hamster-napping all over the place and poor little Wilmer has broken out of Merlyn's bike shop and is after him on that mini-Harley he's been building! We know he's travelling by mushroom, but that mangy flea-bag has gone too far this time!" He raged as Chessie boiled the kettle so Wolfie could brew the tea and put the two insulated travel mugs in the cupholders Merlyn had thoughtfully designed into Chessie's saddle for him, knowing what the old grey-muzzled wolf was like without caffine. Grabbing a couple of bagels with peach melba cream cheese to eat en route he vaulted out the window into the saddle, fastened the safety harness he'd installed after a nasty half-mile fall in the porevious pub crawl and ordered Chessie to the skies over the foggy Atlantic waters. Raising her head after a few good sneezes and a gulp of seawatr, chessie suddenly banked and turned towards the Outer Hebrides, wings beating like a food processoron high as her sensitive nose caught the scent of the fugitive canine hamster-napper! Wolfwalker emptied one huge mug of tea washing down his second bagel and thought to himself that this might be the last straw in view of Rancid's sullied past. Life would not be pleasant for the dirty old Rottie in the 'dead zone' as they referred to it, an area free of all magic powers, properties and connections hidden deep in the frozen wastes of the tundra between the borders of Canada and Siberia, on an unchartable island, similar to Azkaban, the island prison for the magic world in those charming Harry Potter fiction books.
Chessie climbed higher to get the morning sun and mumbled something over her shoulder in dragonish about Rancid being on the move once more, but only a short jump this time, to the island of Iona, only a degree or two course change.
Meanwhile, back at the lineup for the ferry in Eastern Maine, Merlyn realized a dragon would have provided better thransport that morning than a magicked Harley. He'd already changed direction after seeiing the late morning issue of the Pagan Press referring to Wilmer almost Running down Mrs Fodd and that hibiscus. That hamster was goig to get more riding lessons and a severe talking to when Merlyn caught up with him.

[Underground River]

GreenDruid sat at the table in the pub with her new kitten, GreenEyes. She had found the little kitten in a cardboard box in the park a week ago. Somebody had just left the poor thing to die alone in a park and GD's kind heart had been unable to resist taking in the little kitten.
She had taken the kitten to a vet who had pronounced her healthy and had sold her a bag of premium kitten food at a decent price. The kitten was only two months old but already she had climbed all the curtains in GD's house.
GreenDruid ordered breakfast for herself, a huge plate of bacon, hash browns and toast and butter. She also had a huge mug of hot chocolate since Kitten drank all the chocolate milk.
"I hope some people come in," said Kitten telepathically. "I wanna shock some druids by jumping around the pub and being a pest."
At that moment, a cloud floated into the room for some breakfast.
"It's MoonCloud," whispered GD. "Now you can start misbehaving or you can wait until more people come and really cause a stir."
GreenEyes blinked her beautiful eyes at GD and decided to wait until more people came.

(Lol this pub crawl is fun. You guys are just too funny. lol)
GD

[GreenOak51]

Lugh’s spines bristled and meshed as he curled himself up, his beady eyes trying to peer through the curtain of spikes that had lowered over his head. He was new here, after being introduced to The Pub by his larger Atlantic cousins. He’d thought them joking when they had told him hedgehogs would be welcome here but they had been welcomed warmly, although from a distance. Even Druids were not immune to spikes in the fingers, it seems. He hadn’t been set upon by shouts or threats, no brooms had sought to push him out into the night -- though there were a few screams, he remembered sheepishly, when people stepped on him. He smiled his possum smile and turned his head, anxious to know what was happening.

He spied the glint of green coming from a pocket at the bar, heard the lapping of milk – sniff, sniff – chocolate milk, he salivated. Would she be willing to share? He doubted not.

The air temperature changed and he huffed loudly, curling up once more as a mist settled in the room.

“Have you heard?” MoonCloud exclaimed? “Have you heard? Where is everyone? Why aren’t we out scrounging the globe for poor Myrtle? He’s on a motorcycle! Where did he learn to build a Harley?” The cloud waxed and waned in agitation as she spoke.

“Easy, MoonCloud, easy. You’ll give us all hypothermia if you keep flapping around like that.” Creirwy gulped as she plopped herself onto the bar.

[Dair Ciúin]

Meanwhile, across the great ocean in the mysterious outlying realm known as New Zealand, Dair Ciúin had just finished working on his latest digital art project, and wandered into the kitchen for a well earned break. Sitting at the table with a freshly-brewed cuppa tea (in fact, this was his third cup in the past ten minutes), he opened the Pagan Press New Zealand Edition and began browsing through the headlines.

Feathered reporter receives top honours for Eisteddfod poll

"Crow..." Dair Ciúin muttered to himself, slowly shaking his head. He was surprised that informing the press of the poll's true inventor had somehow managed to slip Crow's mind. Top honours, indeed! Frankly, he had heard enough about that whole sorry tale, and decided to skip this article without further ado.

Rotweiler goes insane and kidnaps unsuspecting rodents

"Hmmm.... I wonder what started this," Dair Ciúin pondered out loud. Glancing at the previous article, he suddenly drew an obvious conclusion. "Actually, I think I know exactly what started it." he surmised, vaguely remembering a recent conversation with Rancid concerning the lack of respect whilst working for Crow.

Wasting no time, Dair Ciúin jumped out of his chair, fastened his cloak, and ran outside without shutting the windows or even locking the front door. This is New Zealand, after all. Scurrying to the shoreline as fast as his legs could carry him, he dived into the nearby row-boat, and began hastily rowing across the ocean to lend aid in the adventure.

[Kat Lady]

Kat picked up her cup of warm chocolate milk and sat at the table to eat breakfast and read the morning paper. She sighed in contentment as she sat in her jammies, nibbling on her breakfast kibble. It sure is nice to sit and read the paper still in jammies, she thought. No itchy 007 kat Collar. Just nice, cozy, jammies. With Kat-Storm back in school and Snarg off to check on Wilmer, she was enjoying the silence. She opened up the newest edition of "The Pagan Press" and stopped in mid bite as she read:

Rottweiler goes insane and kidnaps unsuspecting rodents

Naturally, that caught her attention. She had just finished skimming the story when Snarg showed up humming "Born to Be Wild" with waffles in hand. She looked at him and said, "Well?" He smiled his best cutsy smile and grabbing her hand and replied, "There's no place like home." And he and Kat, minus the 007 Kat Collar, disappeared.

[Underground River]

Explorer was out somewhere exploring. He had just finished lunch and decided to go back home to chat with his friends. He really couldn't stay away from the chat very long. He sighed, resigned to the fact that he would have to chat all night and then go to work the next day. He packed up his stuff and hiked back to his home.
He went to his computer and logged into the chat. Instead of the familiar screen with X3 and GreenDruid, he saw "please wait". "Very odd," he thought. "It never did that before."
Suddenly, he saw a screen that said "portobello mushroom chat, and some more words..." Everything blurred and he sensed himself transported to another place...
"Explorer!" he heard a voice shout. "You've finally come to the pub!"
Explorer didn't know the person, but he had a weird feeling it was GreenDruid.
"GreenDruid?" he asked, sure and unsure at the same time.
"Explorer," she said. "Since you wrote a song about us all it's about time you came to visit."

At that moment, another person walked, or rather fell through the door.
"That was a little rough," a woman's voice said. "One minute I was sitting at home trying to chat with that darn cat on my keyboard, then the next I saw something about mushrooms, then I was here..."
"Saille?" asked GreenDruid. "Are you Saille?"
"Yes," said the lady. She sat down at the table with Explorer, MoonCloud and GD.
Suddenly something black exploded out of GreenDruid's pocket and raced across the table. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" screamed everybody except GreenDruid.
"Meow," said the Kitten from on the curtains.
"Saille," laughed GD. "I think when you mensioned the cat on the keyboard it was too much for my GreenEyes here and she just couldn't resist a little mischief."
Another lady fell through the door at that instant, barely managing to hold on to a box.
"Who's that?" asked GD.
"It's me," said a lady. "Does anybody want the worst cake ever?"
"Mey!" cried GreenDruid. "Bring........"
She never finished her sentence. Maddened by the smell of rich chocolate and creme fraiche the Kitten had leaped into Mey's startled arms and had grabbed the box.
"GreenEyes!" screamed GD. "Leave her and her cake alone!"
Everybody jumped up and ran to drag the insane Kitten off the cake.
A newspaper suddenly came flying through the window as an overzealous papergirl threw it too hard. It landed smack on the head of the Kitten effectively ending her struggle for the cake. Mey was able to set the slightly scratched but otherwise unharmed box on a table.
"Weird," said Saille, picking up the paper. "How'd the Dutch edition of this get all the way here from the Netherlands?"
She translated out loud for everybody to hear:
"Rampaging dog kidnaps and kills rodents"
"Wilmer!" screamed GD in alarm. "And that filthy beast Rancid......."
"What I want to know," said Explorer. "Is how a papergirl here managed to get a Dutch paper?"
"Never mind that!" cried Saille, Mey, Mooncloud and GD. "We've got to save Wilmer!"

GD

[Rancid]

Dair Ciúin rowed confidently across the Pacific, certain of Crow’s involvement. Rancid had said in no uncertain terms that he felt the crusty old reporter had been treating him poorly, and so it was logical that the poor beast would misbehave, and how better to show your dissatisfaction than to go on a hamster-kidnapping spree?

Lost in thought, Dair Ciúin missed a stroke, cursed, and rested at his oars, his boat bobbing on the gentle waves. Wait a minute, he thought, there’s no question that Crow’s to blame for this, but there’s nothing logical about a dog stealing hamsters as a result of mistreatment. If Rancid wanted revenge against Crow, he chose an unusual way to show it. Crow didn’t even own a hamster. Although Dair Ciúin could picture the bird worrying the entrails of a dead hamster, the thought of him loving and caring for one of the cute little rodents was utterly ridiculous.

Now uncertain of himself, Dair Ciúin sat in his rowboat pondering possible motives as the sun beat down.

***

Meanwhile, Rancid used his snout to open the lid on the wicker basket he was dragging. He peered inside and saw the 25 hamsters that he had taken that morning. They all appeared to be in good health. Satisfied, he closed the lid, grasped the handle firmly in his teeth and began dragging it again. They would be coming for him, he knew, but let them come; every dog has his day, he thought, and even if they could track him, they couldn’t catch him. He was an old dog, but even an old dog raised by ogres in a seedy pub knew a few new tricks.

Pricking up his ears, he heard it: a motorcycle engine. No matter, he still had time. Rancid used his best wet-dog shake to dislodge the drawstring pouch from around his neck. He opened the pouch and gently removed the single Portobello mushroom that he’d stolen from Gladys’ stash behind the bar.

Just when the tiny motorcycle hove into sight from around a bend in the road, the Rottweiler took the mushroom in his mouth and grabbed hold of the basket with his teeth. As he swallowed the mushroom and vanished, the last thing Rancid saw was the surprised look on Wilmer’s face.

[Underground River]

Barmybam sat in her chair, listening to music. The song was boring and she reached for the CD player's controls to skip to another song.
When she pressed next track, she heard an odd noise and felt something weird under her hands.
"Mushrooms!" she thought in the single instant before she was teleported.
She was sitting at a table with a bunch of chattering people.
"Hi Barmybam!" everybody shouted. "We're so glad you came!"
GD

[Wolfwalker]

Poor confused Wilmer sat on his mini-Hartley in the middle of the road staring at the spot where that dratted mutt had been a split-second before with his Myrtle before disapparating. As he was pondering what to do next, Up from behind arrived Billie Joe Bob and Esther Fodd on a enormous pigeon. "Y'all better come with us lil feller,"boomed The big cowboys voice as he plunked Wilmer, Harley and all in the picnic basket hios mother was clutching tightly, as he tossed the pigeon a piece of portebello mushroom... "to Rancid's hide-out" he spoke as they whierled off into the mid-day sunshine. Wilmer held his stomach and tried not to lose his hamster nummies from the night before...

[Snarg]

Dair Ciúin continued to ponder his plight in the middle of the Pacific when he hear a great rush of wings above him. He looked up just in time to see great blue claws grab his boat. He closed his eyes and ducked, thinking the giant air creature was trying to eat him when all of a sudden he smelled Maple Syrup. He cracked open his eyes and saw a Mickey Mouse Band-Aid on one of the giant toes grasping the boat. Both eyes wide open in surprise he yelled "Snarg!" in glee. He heard a purr and realized that Kat Lady was waving to him from atop the wonderous beast. He frowned, puzzled.

"Kat! You are in your jammies!" he exclaimed.

"So I am!" she replied, pointing at her Opus jammies.

"But Kat," he continued, "where is the famous 007 collar?"

Kat touched the fur of her neck. She had not had time to put on her collar. "Noooooooooooooooooo!" was the cry that could be heard......

[Dair Ciúin]

Kat Lady suddenly got a brilliant idea, reached into her pocket and retrieved a remote control for her missing 007 collar. Holding the device in her padded paws, she pressed the button and waited patiently.

Meanwhile, back at the Kat House, a mechanical pair of wings automatically extended from a secret compartment inside the 007 collar, and it immediately took flight - out the window and towards the ocean. This was a very hi-tech gadget, after all, and Kat Lady was confident that she would soon be reunited with it once again.

[Azrienoch]

SHEEEEERRRUUMMMM.
Whoosh.
Hiss.
The Katwing placed itself gently on the ground in the middle of a cornfield, nearby the Pacific Ocean where Kat-Lady stood. This was, of course, after a short dance which formed a crop circle that the Katwing's onboard computer, the X3, hoped to enter into next month's issue of Sky-2-Corn Magazine. X3 knew that accepted images were paid for poorly, but mIRC Subsystems, Inc. had an amazing new upgrade that he knew would impress the ladies, and he needed to replenish his savings for it. This was because before he was X3, he was X2, and that upgrade didn't come with spam protection. As his text messages cost him per letter, the number of solicitations he received were tallying his bill to thousands of dollars within the first four hours, and exceeded the American National Debt by the end of that day.
All in all, he simply needed the money.
Kat-Lady approached the Katwing.
"Name?" X3 asked over his CB megaphone.
"Kat."
"Password?"
"Dander."
Muffled beeps and boops came from inside the Katwing.
"Voice recognition complete. Password accepted. Please stand by for retinal scan."
Beep.
Boop.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
Silence.
X3 coughed.
Kat's eyes bulged. "Is something the matter?"
"Well, no, not quite the matter, it... well, let me try again."
Crunch. Crunch. Squeal.
"Okay, yeah, it's busted."
"X3? Is the 007 Collar all right?" Kat asked, running up to the ship.
"The Collar? Oh, oh yes. Here it is."
Something that sounded like stacked beer cans falling over made Kat cringe.
"Since I can't perform the retinal scan, I can't let you come in and get it, but I'll send it out to you."
Kat-Lady backed away as a slot opened up in the side of the ship and a conveyor fell out of it and locked into position. A smaller slot at the end of the conveyor opened up and released a smaller conveyor, which in turn opened up and released and even smaller conveyor, which in turn released a conveyor of its own with a conveyor of its own. Things proceeded this way until the line of conveyors ended at Kat's feet. The 007 Collar slipped down the conveyor.

[Crow]

After checking in at the newspaper office and finding that he indeed had been assigned to do a follow-up story on the hamster kidnappings, Crow flew back to the Foggy Downs district looking for answers. He thought a good place to start would be Lorraine’s Wayward Druid Bed & Breakfast, where he hoped to find Esther Fodd.

Flying down the street, Crow saw in the distance two women standing there, deep in conversation. Although he couldn’t yet make out their identities, one of them suddenly fell down, and then just as quickly climbed back to her feet. “Beith,” Crow muttered aloud to himself. “It’s got to be.”

Finally arriving at his destination and landing on the neat picket fence that surrounded the establishment, Crow saw that it was indeed the Irish redhead, clad in fashionable stiletto-heeled Tevas, and she was talking animatedly to Lorraine, who had a bit of a glazed look.

Deciding not to interrupt, Crow listened:

“And so you see, in the old times the Druids on Tara Hill would use the progenitor of the modern-day hibiscus plant in many of their rituals. Druids would weave the hibiscus vines into spiral-shaped designs, and then they called upon the Gods, and they would also use the flowers to make shoes! And then of course they would use the leaves … oh, hello Crow, I didn’t see you sitting there until just now, but it’s just as well because you might as well hear this too …”

Crow raised a wing to stop Lorraine, who was about to take advantage of the interruption to flee back inside the house, and said, “I’m sure I’d love to hear about it, but actually I’m working and thought I’d stop by to hear first-hand what you all know about the hamsters …”

“Hamsters!” cried Beith. “Did you know that the modern-day hamster actually originated in Ireland, and that there are charcoal drawings of the creatures inside many megalithic sites and that the ancient Druids …”

Lily, who had just walked out the front door on her way to do some sightseeing, overheard this conversation and interrupted, “Hamsters originated in Ireland? I’m really skeptical about that.” She threw her bag over her shoulder and walked off down the street.

“No, wait, it’s true,” cried Beith to no avail, as Lily showed no signs of stopping. “Well anyway, you two,” said Beith, turning her attention back to Lorraine and Crow, “the hamsters of Ireland …”

“Well actually I was more interested in the hamsters that disappeared from around The District yesterday, and about the report of a hamster crashing his miniature Harley Davidson somewhere around here,” said Crow, looking interestedly at the broken hibiscus. “Tell me, Lorraine, do you still have a guest staying here by the name of Esther Fodd? Lorraine? Lorraine ...?”

Crow looked up from examining the hibiscus to find that the proprietress of The Wayward Druid had made good her escape. He and Beith stood alone on the sidewalk.

“Did you know that the venerable Harley Davidson motorcycle actually has its roots in Celtic times?” asked Beith.

“Beith, perhaps we could finish this conversation at The Foggy Duck,” interrupted Crow. “I have to talk to Gladys about Rancid.”

“Yes!” said Beith, “I could use a cold Guinness! Talking always makes my mouth dry! Why did you know …”

The old bird and the young redhead strolled off down the street toward the pub, with Crow wondering what would happen next …

[Underground River]

WildChild finished making the beautiful computer table and sat back in satisfaction. GreenDruid would enjoy the table for many many years.
He got up from his work bench and picked up the bowl of cold mushroom soup he had forgotten to eat.
He dipped a spoon in the bowl and tasted the first cold mouthful.
Suddenly, the room wasn't there and he fell into a room with tables and chairs and people.
"WildChild!" everybody yelled in greeting. "So glad you could come and have breakfast."
He was pushed into a chair and coffee was ordered for him. "Make sure you give him a whole pot of coffee, Gladys," said GreenDruid. "He will die if he doesn't have the whole coffee pot in two minutes."

Arrianhrodd picked up the paper and read the headline about the hamster kidnappings. She thought it was very odd and she was rather curious about the whole matter. She decided to take a walk to the pub for breakfast and see what was going on. She walked the 6 blocks to the pub and entered just as WildChild received his second pot of java.
"Arri!" cried GD upon hearing the familiar voice. "How are you?"
"Just thought I'd stop in and check out this hamster thing," she said. "Gladys, I'd like a cuppa tea please..."


GD

[Lorraine]

Lorraine, having made her escape, thought she'd better catch up with her work. Her American guest, Esther Fodd, had checked out that morning, and she still hadn't had the chance to clean out the room, between the endless news reporters and Beith's monologue. Still, at least she'd got Trevor McDoughnut's autograph to put on display in the breakfast room, so it hadn't been time entirely wasted. She went upstairs to Esther's room. The old lady had made her own bed up with hospital corners, which was courteous but somewhat pointless, since she needed to change the sheets anyway. Despite the fastidious bedmaking, her guest had left a few items behind. Several shiny black corvid feathers were scattered on the carpet. Something tugged at her consciousness, but she ignored it for now, looking around the room further. A battered cowboy hat was perched on a hook. Lorraine couldn't recall Esther wearing any headgear. She picked up a dog collar from the floor, which was viciously spiked. "Hmmm, said Lorraine. "Whatever floats your boat, love". But where had all these feathers come from? Hadn't Esther read the sign on the door? It clearly stated "No pets, including totem animals" along with the other 329 house rules. Something just didn't add up.

Lorraine decided she needed a second opinion, and being an Ovate, there was only one option. It was time to have a word with the guardian of her garden, Sicker Moore. Or as he preferred to call himself these days, having outgrown his punk phase, Sidhe Mor. He'd got a chip on his shoulder, or rather his branch, about the fact that none of the house guest thought he was an Ogham tree. Yet despite Lorraine's fabulous gardening skills, everything else in the garden looked sickly compared to the sycamore with an attitude problem. She just couldn't understand it.
She explained the whole story. "Frankly, I'm sceptical about this whole hamster story."
The tree ruffled his leaves before answering. "You know, you sound just like someone else who walked past here today."
"There was something odd about Esther Fodd. She was the only witness, and when she told me about the hamster story she avoided my eyes the whole time. I've got a feeling she was hiding something. What's more, I found a few odd objects in her room today."
"Another odd house guest, but aren't they all?"
Lorraine looked around, in case other guests were lurking in the shrubbery. "You know, you shouldn't slag off our paying customers."
"Hmmph! You can talk. Weren't you complaining about Esther the other day?"
"Only because she criticized the biscuits I'd supplied for afternoon tea, saying 'Dang it, they're too hard' then asked for gravy with them. Gravy! How strange is that?
"Strange indeed. Talking of tea, you can always have a sideline in hibiscus tea. Might as well do something with all those dried-out remains."
Lorraine scowled. "It'll live. Just a bit of my special compost mix and it'll be well away."
"Of course... you are a most gifted gardener," said the tree in an emollient yet faintly sarcastic voice.
"It's beside the point, anyhow. I'm wondering if there's an alter ego involved here. I'm thinking of the collar, and the feathers, I found in Esther's room."
"Black feathers remind me of Fitheach."
"No, it wasn't her. Fitheach didn't have that pronounced Southern drawl. Besides, raven feathers are bigger than..." Then she realized. "Crow! A crow turned up today, while Beith was talking to me. I just knew he reminded me of someone!"
Sicker, or rather Sidhe, extended a branch to point at a feather on the ground. "Evidence?"
Lorraine pulled another from her pocket. "Damn right it's evidence. Look at that, it's a perfect match. Either Esther and Crow are one and the same, or Crow's been sneaking round in Esther's room."
"Well I didn't see him go in there. Either way, what are you going to do about it?"
"Didn't they say they were off to the pub? Well, so am I."