Clash of the Scottish Egos
It was inevitable. Gerremy McButler was totally convinced of that. His life, right from the beginning, had been an example of the old adage one step forward and two steps back so this didn't come as any great surprise. Why should this nightmare trip through time be any different. If he had thought meeting up with one crazed English dragoon had been wicked, meeting up again with one hard headed, titian haired Scottish laird, was absolutely mind altering.
After leaving Claire McFraser's cottage, he had decided to give the mirror one more try. Claire had been occupied with patients and he hadn't been able to recount his disastrous meeting with one F. Neil McRandall and get her take on it. It was obvious the crazy Captain was enamored of her husband, but he wasn't sure that she was aware of it and didn't know how to recount it without bringing him into it. Did McFraser reciprocate some of the Captain's affections? From the little he had mentioned him, he thought not, but one never knew how these things played out and he would have to wait and ask McFraser himself, in any case, since Claire had been too busy to see him.
He had returned to the Red Bull Inn and run smack into the person he was seeking, namely, Jamie McFraser. As he was going up the stairs to the room, he spotted McFraser having a tankard of ale with the proprietor. Tired and angry, he had approached McFraser from behind and put his hand on his shoulder.
GMcB: Just the pairson I was lookin' for! Tell me how ye brought me here to be pairt o' yer Machiavellian plan. I want tae go home. Right now!
Without so much as twitching a muscle, McFraser had practically broken his hand by squeezing it so hard, it forced him to sit down.
JMcF: Ye should know better than to sneak up on a body like that! Ye're lucky I didna break yer arm.
Slamming a glass down in front of McButler, he poured him some ale from his own tankard.
JMcF: Ye look horrible. I think ye need this more than I do! Drink!
Rubbing his hand and still angry, McButler scowls at McFraser before thirstily taking a few gulps. He did not dare drink water again and resigned himself to a few lapses until this mess was cleared up.
JMcF: Now what the hell is wrong wi ye that ye need tae shout it tae the world?
GMcF: (lowering his voice) Why the de'il did ye no' warn me about yer friend the fucking sadist McRandall?
JMcF: Ran into him already, did ye?
GMcF: Ye knew he would come after me?
JMcF: If ye'll clear that muddled heid o' yers, ye'll mind I did warn ye about the Captain.
GMcF: (still angry) Well, when ye said he wis after yer arse, I didn't figure ye were speakin' in the literal sense!
JMcF: (looking McButler over carefully) Ye're a big fella an' ye dinna appear tae have suffered any lastin' damage!
GMcF: Only tae ma psyche! The man is madder than a hatter!
JMcF: And what exactly is a "hatter."
GMcF: It's someone who is mentally unstable, which said Captain appears tae be. He almost killed me!
JMcF: Yet here ye are. Besides, the Captain isna daft. He's nasty an' he's sick. I've run across arse bandits before, but na'er one that got his kicks from hurtin' people.
GMcF: Seems like ye're more o' a babe in the woods than me. Where I come from, people like him can advertise their preferences an' hook up wi' like minded types.
JMcF: Ye're jokin'?
GMcB: Not a bit. An' to add tae it, I think the Captain might be there now. He wis gone when I woke up, but his trousers an' the rest o' his clothes were still there. I think he managed tae find a way tae take a trip through the bluidy mirror.
JMcF: Well that's good news tae me. One less thing I've got tae worry about. I am goin' tae kill him some day, but for now, I'm relieved not tae have him on ma tail all the time.
GMcB: When ye say "on yer tail" are ye talkin' in the literal sense?
JMcF: (frostily) Mr. McButler, dae ye enjoy breathin'?
GMcB: O' course, I dae. What kinda question is that?
JMcF: Then ye will never imply what ye just did again.
GMcB: I'm not implyin' anythin'. I wis merely askin' a simple question. It's no sin, ye know? Some o' ma best friends are gay.
JMcF: Gay?
GMcB: That's what they call men who like men in ma time. They openly live together and have good lives most of the time, except for the bigots.
JMcF: Interestin'. I've got tae remember an' ask Claire about it.... Say, speakin' o' Claire... How'd ye two get along?
JMcF: (smiling to himself) That she is. (narrowing his eyes) Just what dae ye mean by "a house on fire?"
GMcB: (unawares of the change in tone) Just like ye said, we got along, cep fer her puttin' a pillow o'er my head one night, though I dinna think she was really tryin' tae smother me in bed.
JMcF: In bed? An' just what were ye doin' in bed wi' my wife?
GMcB: (becoming aware of the menace in the voice) Sleepin'?
JMcF: She let ye sleep in the bed?
GMcB: Well, yeah, after she made me bathe tae get rid o' the lice, she practically cooked me alive wi' the boiling water she poured o'er ma heid! I thought she wis tryin' tae cook ma balls! That wife o' yers is dangerous, come tae think o' it. She could give the mad captain a run fer his money!
JMcF: (incredulous) Ye got hot water? She actually heated up water fer ye?
GMcB: Ye expected me tae freeze ma balls off? Are ye crazy?
JMcF: What else did she do for ye? Think verra carefully afore ye answer McButler.
GMcB: If ye're asking did I sleep wi' her, the answer is no. Well, technically I did sleep "with" her, but we didna do more than sleep.....which was kinda strange tae me. I never slept in a bed wi' a woman and not.... Well, ye know....?
JMcF:: I see. Sae ye say ye ha' carnal knowledge o' every woman ye sleep wi'?
GMcB: Well, not every wumman! But aye, normally I dae! But ah got tae say yer Claire knows how tae defend herself. She took a knee tae ma stones when ah tried tae kiss her after she ripped off ma shirt.
JMcF: (coldly) Mr. McButler. I think ye ought tae stop talkin' before ye find yerself wi' ma dirk embedded between your 2nd and third intercostal space. Ye ken?
GMcB: Wha....? Listen, wasn't me doing the rippin' . She said she wis leukin' fer my smallpox vaccination. (shrugging) But pairsonally, ah think she just wanted to see ma abs.
JMcF: (suddenly understanding) I see. She was looking for the round little mark on yer arm an' you misunderstood her intentions. Aye, I see it now.
GMcB: Well that's guid tae hear, kis I don't relish bein' gutted like a fish fer somethin' that wis clearly not ma fault. An' besides that, ah DID save yer guid name by winnin' the pissin' contest ....wi' a little help from Claire, o' course, but....
Seeing the mine field in the direction this conversation was headed, McButler stops.
GMcB: ...it's a long story. I'll let Claire tell ye aboot it, aye? Could ye PLEASE see yer way tae helpin' me figure out how tae get back tae ma own time an' tell me the trick tae the fuckin' mirror?
Jamie Lee McFraser looks dumbfounded.
JMcF: Ye think I ken how it's done? I havena a clue.
Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction that exists only in the twilight zone of the writer's mind. Any and all resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.
Songs out of tune, the words always a little wrong...Canzoni Stonate
No comments:
Post a Comment