War: NA/Knighties/Vaqs: Can I See Your Llicense? (1/1) By Bonnie Rutledge Nick, the Caddy and Sandra used with permission Time: In between Nick/Schanke and Nick/LC switches Thanks to the Knighties for your help! "I'm going for a drive," Nick announced. When three Knighties looked ready to grab their bags, he added firmly, "Alone." "Are you sure that's a good idea?" Sandra asked anxiously as she followed him to the lift. "The last switches happened while you were driving. Do you want to tempt fate?" "I've been a Natbody. I've been a Schankebody. At this point, I'm prepared for anything." A swift image of a Screed-LaCroix from the Raven Party Friday night flashed through his thoughts. "Well, almost anything." He shuddered. "I have to get out for a while, to think about what's happened over the past week. Everything will be fine. I think." "Nick -" she began to urge caution again. "Really, Sandra, you cling to this notion that I'm in danger like lichen to a -" Nick caught his breath. "To what?" Sandra prompted. Nick shook his head. "Never mind. It's bad enough I've become other people. I don't want to become a cliche on top of it." With a brief, familiar grin that could distract the most stouthearted of the Knighties, he separated the distance between them with the lift door and disappeared from sight. Nick pulled the Caddy out into the night, driving aimlessly, hoping to clear his head. Out of habit, his hand reached to turn on the radio. At the last moment, his fingers paused over the dial and a stern look came over his features. There would be no listening to CERK tonight. No polka, either. He adjusted the radio until classical music soared out from the speakers, something peaceful to soothe his troubled memory. He didn't notice how much time passed. He was only aware that the longer he drove, the longer he had the Caddy under the control of *his* hands, he relaxed just a little bit more from the confusion and stress of the past seven days. The traffic followed a pattern. It had a flow. Cars remained within the lines. If he drove long enough, maybe everything wouldn't seem so fractured. Maybe he could forget that a war was happening. Maybe he could block out that two Hawaiian shirts now hung in his closet. Maybe he could put the fact that he'd worn lipstick out of his mind. Green lights turned red. Predictable. Normal. Welcome. Until a 1980 DeVille ran through the intersection at top speed against the signal, swerved between a nun, a Passat and a bicycle, then kept right on going. In the process, a wave of dust rose up from the street, settling a fine layer of grime over his own, previously clean, Caddie's paint job. After the run-in with the light post, this was the straw that broke the camel's back. Nick reached across his dashboard again, this time flicking on his car's siren. There was another bit of order he enjoyed on the streets of Toronto. Enforcing the law. ***************************************************************** ** Wednesday dawned for Bonnie in much a similar fashion as Tuesday had, with the Inca booting her little llama behind out into the paddock to commune with the rest of nature. As opposed to the previous morning, however, Bonnie had grown more resigned and appreciative of her lifestyle change. Even her Quest for Doom had lost its significance. "Hello, Nature," she chirped happily. "Like your style," she added as she skipped through the yard to join the other llamas. The reasons for Bonnie's joy at being a llama were plentiful. After all, llamas never had dry cleaning, they never balanced checkbooks, and they never had to pay taxes (except when buying alcoholic units). Discounting the whole 'communal dung pile' negativity, being a llama was a pretty good gig, far better than being the High Priestess of the Shrine to Nunkies. No filing involved. Ever. The only thing that would make life as a llama sweeter would be living as a *free* llama. Free to do as she pleased, without Bossy Bessie Incas bothering after her all the time. Bonnie had experienced an Epiphany. Well, maybe not an Epiphany, but at least a Cheesy Rationalization of sorts. Vachon was the 'Because I can' guy. Valdez was his 'No, you can't' composite. What should Llama Bons do to escape Incan house rules, then? Easy. Split. Leave the house. Make a run for it! Bonnie nudged one of her mammal brethren with her rump and whispered, "Word on the grass, Pacha." She bonked the llama to her other side with her hip. "Isabella...Some of us packies are bustin' out of here...tonight!" Isabella yawned in her face. Pacha spit at her. "Oooh. Tough crowd." Bonnie moved along. By dusk, Bonnie had found that none of the other llamas were willing to leave, despite promises of rebellion and high-speed chases. Their loss. Bonnie would have all the fun, once she figured out how to get the Inca's car keys into the ignition with her teeth. Once she reasoned out that tricky bit, of course, there were the equally mystical puzzles of changing gears with her nose and gnawing off the parking brake. Once the Inca's car was ready to burn rubber, Llama Bons made an additional discovery: her front hooves turned efficient operation of a steering wheel into a dubious adventure. Bonnie stomped down the accelerator, perhaps, too eagerly. Great speed was achieved. Very few traffic laws were obeyed. Madness ensued. Bonnie felt very bad when she flustered the flock of chickens with her driving skills. She also had some remorse when she busted through the very, very large pane of glass that two glaziers just happened to be carrying across two lanes of a major road (At night, you say? I know! What are the odds?!). Most, most regrettable, however, was sideswiping the Inca's DeVille into that large outcropping of newly mown hay on Spadina. (Where is the karma, I ask you, where is the karma?!). That was unfortunate, you see, because the DeVille came to a stand-still, and the next thing Bonnie saw was Nick glowering on the other side of her car. (Not v. g. Not v. g. at all!) ***************************************************************** *** "License and registration," Nick clipped. "Err...ahh...hummm...uh-oh...damn!" the wayward driver replied, shuffling in the glove compartment. Nick frowned. If he didn't know better, he'd say this twenty-car-pileup-waiting-to-happen behind the wheel was a llama. Impossible. He closed his eyes, shook his head, then looked again. No, there was a llama behind the wheel, now meekly presenting him with two cards, one of them laminated, both clapped between hooves. Nick counted to five and took a deep breath. He looked at the license. It belonged to the Inca. He looked again at the driver. Very definitely a llama. He'd called in his pursuit during the chase, and now two squad cars roared onto the scene. "Take this one in," Nick informed the first uniform to arrive. He handed the officer the copy of license and registration. "And call this one and tell him we have his llama in lockup." The officer looked at him quizzically, but Nick simply shrugged and walked back to his own vehicle, the sounds of the cursing perp echoing behind him. Nick revised as he watched the squad car haul off the talking, delinquent llama. So he jumped back into the Caddie and returned to his faction. ***************************************************************** *** Meanwhile, in Metro lockup... July 12th Cigarettes: 0 (have forsaken in Epiphany), Alcoholic units: 0 (am treating body as temple in Epiphany), cud units: 6 (am Llama, to be expected), moving violations: 21 (apparently), bathroom stops: 3 (facilities in jail cell = too tempting) 12:05am Have been in prison many hours now. Am disenfranchised. Wonder why Inca has not bailed me out? Perhaps he is having transportation issues. After all, stole his car. 1:30am Is v.v. bad of Inca to leave me rotting in jail. Suspect am being taught a lesson. Will not work. 2:30am Am hardened criminal now. 3:45am Have acquired tattoo (v. tough) and prison nickname of 'Wools' Valdez. 4:20am Thankgawd! Thankgawd! Inca is here! Could not have borne life of crime one more minute! All is forgiven! Will be good llama from now on! Promise! 4:32am Thinking. Not very fair, llamas being disenfranchised, is it? If had political and economic power, stolen vehicles would be designed much more llama-user friendly, therefore would not be caught. Humble reunions with Inca would be sidestepped. Reserved parking would be available. Will work on anti-speciesist manifesto later. First, must identify means of revenue and bargaining power to fund future ideological activities. 5:10am Have found idea! Involves Vachon & ruler & Mercenaries. V. v clever. Must get cute llama sleep now in order to prepare for plan. **************************************************** TBC....