It was a relatively calm afternoon by New Babbage standards and Mr. Angkarn decided he should take a break from the repairs to his ship. He had gotten the engines working enough for a very shaky flight to a secluded meadow just outside the city wall. “That should be a safe enough place to keep you, Old Girl,” he said, pulling the door closed and locking it. He then walked back towards the inner part of the city, along the canals.
As he made his way through the streets, he came upon a lighthouse. Something about it seemed familiar, though he was sure he had never been here. As he passed, he heard the sounds of two men fighting. He rushed up the stairs, flung open the door, and hurried inside to see one man smash a vase over another man’s head, knocking him unconscious.
“Mr. Angkarn, I am glad you came by,” said the man holding a few shards of vase. Orpheus had never met this man, but he knew, as if by remembering another set of memories, that it was Mr. Emerson Lighthouse who was standing over the unconscious man. “I need help. Petharic is out. Let’s toss him in the Canal!”
Orpheus didn’t know why he did it, but he helped Emerson take the limp form out of the lighthouse, down the steps, and after many tries, into the cold waters of the canal. “You…. really…. don’t like….. this guy,” huffed Mr. Angkarn as they heaved the body into the water.
“Have you seen the graveyard behind my house?” asked Mr. Lighthouse.
“No, I don’t think so,” replied Mr. Angkarn.
“Seven bodies, all of them Petharic. Now, eight, with any luck.”
The two men looked out into the water, watching the ripples that gave evidence of Wiggyfish approaching the body.
“Anyhow, I thank you for your assistance with this most unpleasant business.”
“Mr. Lighthouse,” inquired Mr. Angkarn, “how is it that one man can keep returning to vex you? He isn’t an associate of Mr. Mornington’s is he? I know that where that man goes, people returning from beyond the grave can’t be far behind.”
“I do not think he is friends with Mr. Mornington, nor do I know how he continues to vex me,” said Emerson.
“Must be some sort of recursive time loop associated with the man’s bloodline. Curious,” replied Orpheus.
The two men continued to talk about many things; their business in town, the new exhibit at the museum, and of course wiggyfish.
“You wanna go into the water to get the body? You’re crazier than a drunken wildebeest in a monkey stampede!” exclaimed Orpheus in response to Emerson mentioning this would be an easy grave to dig.
“No, I’ll fish out his boots and gun with some fishing line. Bury the boots, keep the gun. I would never go into the canal water, even without wiggyfish,” said the other man. He then looked at his watch and announced he had other commitments. The two men said goodbye and each went on their way, as if nothing had happened. Emerson went off to his business and Orpheus made his way to the museum to clear his head and see the new exhibit he kept hearing about.
I’ve found that . . ahem, remains, are quite good fertilizer for some of the pickier plants in my garden.
Hemp, of course, grows well with a minimum of such, but it’s recreational properties are decidedly enhanced by such good, high-grade fertilizer.
They are also useful in growing the finest cooking herbs in the area.
/grabs a pen and takes notes.