UNDER CONSTRUCTION

The Judge

It occurs to Selena that perhaps it is time to call in a referee to judge the flash fiction about to be offered. Someone clean, someone unbiased, someone... someone who hasn't been damn well drinking at the Taverna all night.

The dim light is right for conjuring. So is the smoky atmosphere. Too bad there are no virgins in evidence, but she'll just have to hope he isn't picky about that part. A few candles... quick change in the ladies' room into the belly-dancing outfit conveniently hung on a peg there... Selena draws a deep breath and begins chanting in Latin.

"Non calor sed umor est qui nobis incommodat.

"Lex clavatoris designati rescindenda est.

"Estne volumen in toga, an solum tibi libet me videre?"

She bows her head low. "Nicholas Urf�, come forth!"

The glasses over the bar tinkle as the room trembles.

"Hey is that brimstone I sm-- Nah, just clove cigarettes." says Vinnie.

A cavernous voice is heard to intone, "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Urfe Portland wgah'nagl fhtagn!"

"Hmm. Does this mean he will arrive with a big poof?" asked DrSpin.

"Nope," replied Denny. "Just that 3 others must come first."

"It's good manners to let the others come first," observed Lisala.

Suddenly, there was an enormous

Then the record makes an awful scratching noise and DJ Dexter Ward's Necronomicon And On squawks to a halt. "I believe," says the dark man dressed simply in black jeans and a grey turtleneck sweater, "though the Latin was quite lovely, that the words you were looking for are DIES MIES JESCHET BOENE DOESEF DOUVEMA ENITEMAUS!"

Desdmona slipped in from one of the back rooms she'd been occupying. She pulled at the edges of her torn bodice. Why had she given up her fan to Urfe when he'd asked? He'd said something about needing it as a prop for his next theatrical monologue. She'd succumb to any of his wishes or requests, just to hear one of his eloquent speeches. Unfortunately, this one she'd have to listen to without the comfort of hiding behind her fan. Out in the open, as it were.

Urfé's Soliloquy

MUCH better.

Seems in the days of the Emperor Charles V--and is anyone in here old enough to remember those days? Aside from Uther? Okay, can we shut up with the age jokes?--back in the day a brave gentleman lived in Milan whose surname is lost and forgotten; for he was so renowned for his courtesy, his valour, and his skill at arms, yadda yadda, anyway, they all called him Count Claudio. One day, the Count's out riding, and he sees these four soldiers who have chosen a rude and rustic sheep's pen as a fighting-ground, for they had a difference to arrange amongst themselves.

I think the moral is clear.

I call hits fair or foul and I adjudge the winner when the duel is done, full stop. And I reserve the right to do so in my own inimitable style. You may dispute me if you like, but I refer you to the moral of the tale of Count Claudio--rest assured, when I'm done, I'll have much good service of you.

I'm on the case, can't be fooled Any objection is overruled Don't try to tempt me--you've no hope I don't like women, I don't take dope I'm the Arbiter and I know best I'm impartial don't push me I'm unimpressed I'm the Arbiter my word is law From square one I'll be watching you...

Could I get some more bourbon here?

DrSpin stared at Nicky. "I liked him better when he was an anarchist."

"Ohhhhhhh, hushpuppies!" Souvie exclaims. She turns to her table companion with a sigh. "I guess it's all over..."

"...but the writing," Gary finishes. "Care for another drink while we wait?"

A careless shrug. "Why not. With Nick as judge, referee, whatever, it's not like we'll be going anywhere before next Saturday." Souvie blows a kiss in Nick's direction to take out the sting from her words - meant in fun, ya know.

So, the minx and the vixen were at it again. "Frailty, thy name is woman" indeed! These two dames certainly laugh in the face of Shakespeare, don't they?

"Souvie, what's it about this time?" Desdmona whispered.

"Something about age and height." Souvie responded.

Gary glanced over at Desdmona, eyeing the torn bodice momentarily, but was brought back to the scene at hand with Urfe's shout, "This silly snipping stops..."

"It seems Alexis has called Selena old, and Selena has called Alexis short." Gary summed up.

"And terms are already being settled? Without bloodshed?" Desdmona sighed, "Couldn't we at least have a smidgeon of pinching, hair pulling, eye scratching and the like?"

"Takes a little of the excitement from it, doesn't it?" Souvie said.

"Well, only a little. I suppose we wouldn't want anything to harm the writing hands of either woman."

The three agreed.

Desdmona felt the warmth of gathering bodies shuffling around her, all trying to get a better view of the proceedings. Oh yes, she thought, it promised to be another good bout, if for no other reason than to give the masses a chance to drink and frolic. She absently tugged again at her bodice. Not that anyone needed a reason to frolic, it seemed to come easily to this group, but still.

"I wonder though," Desdmona queried, "wouldn't it be interesting if the flash stories were written to extol the virtues of height and age?"

celia wavers into existence behind the group, and stepping forward a little, taps on Des' shoulder. When Des looks around, celia says, "hi, Des! maybe it would be fun to see Selena write about the greatness of being short and Alexis write about the greatness of being older?" celia then steps back and wavers out of existence again.

"You mean, Selena should write something that proves with age comes sexual prowess?" Souvie said.

"And Alexis should write something that proves being short can be an asset in some sexual instances?" Gary added. Then he blushed, realizing what that thought, expressed by him, might imply. Why did I say that? he wondered, glancing around. It's as though someone put the words in my mouth. Probably the same person who keeps sending all those 'increase it 1-3 inches' e-mails. He looked around for Wiseguy or Xanthos or one of the other Mind Control authors, before he noticed the impish grin on DEsdmona's face...

"Just a thought, mind you. But don't we need some evidence that each were wrong in pointing out these nuances of the other?"

"Mmm, maybe so, maybe so."

The three were silenced once again as Urfe concluded his speech.

So he wouldn't be swayed by virginity or rum this time. Well, thought Desdmona, it couldn't hurt to imagine a time when he could be swayed by such things. Maybe then she'd have an answer to a long, unanswered question--was speaking the only thing in which Urfe could last for hours?

Father Nat (thinking, "Redhead? Really?) looks up Souvie's dress, takes his drink, strolls over to her table, looks down her dress, sits down next to her, helps himself to a pretzel, and puts his hand on her thigh. He nods politely to Gary.

"Never mind Urfe," he says to Souvie. "I've been mooting away with DrSpin and there's a proposal that, given the very slightest modicum of co-operative spirit, may have the first Flash mortar coming over the horizon onto your radar screens very shortly. All we're doing now," he said, checking his watch irritably, "is waiting for Certain People to wake the fuck up and read their damned e-mail, already."