Mixed Bag Page 8

  Now, he was becoming restless again. Since the untimely death of Stella, he found that no distraction could stop his thoughts from always turning to her. Still, life must go on, and he was eager to explore new vistas. He decided to go for a walk down to the harbor to see if any interesting ships had arrived.

  Pulling on his heavy cape, to ward the London fog that descended, he ambled to the wharf and scanned the ships. His jaw dropped and he stared wide-eyed for a moment. One of the ships had sides clad in metal–not just strips used to strengthen and protect the seams, but entirely metal-bound. He walked rapidly to the side of this phenomenon and noted a man, apparently the captain, standing on the deck directing sailors in their tasks.

  “Ahoy, Captain of the ship.”

  The ornately-dressed captain turned his way. His long coat was not entirely nautical in appearance. It reminded Jonathan of a Rajah’s attire, except heavily-braided on the shoulders and down the sleeves. “Est-ce que je peux vous aider?” the Captain asked.

  Jonathan delved his memory for the French he had learned at school. “Parlez-vous Anglais?”

  The Captain nodded. “I do, monsieur. May I help you?”

  “May I introduce myself?” Jonathan placed his hand on his chest. “I am Jonathan Swift.”

  The Captain smiled broadly. “I have heard of you, Monsieur Swift. I enjoyed your book, “Gulliver’s Travels.” A most imaginative travel guide. Quite amusing.”

  “Thank you, Captain.” Jonathan studied the Captains dark face thinking he must have Hindoo blood in him. He waited for the Captain to introduce himself.

  “My name is Captain de Nemours, Monsieur Swift. My ship is named, as you can see on the side, the Nautilus.”

  “I am curious about your ship, Captain. It appears to be entirely covered in metal. How does it float?”

  “Ah, advanced engineering. Not only does it float, but it can also dive under the surface of the sea. They call it a submarine. A Dutchman built the first of its kind for James I. Not a very practical model, requiring oars, but we have made a few improvements in the last hundred years.”

  “This ship is fantastic, Captain de Nemours. It amazes me that I have not heard of this means of marine transport before.”

  “This is the only one of its kind, Monsieur Swift. I am proud to be the first to command.”

  “Is it, then, a French invention?” Swift looked for a flagstaff, but couldn’t see one. “I do not see your colours.”

  “My crew and I have not allied the Nautilus to any country. I designed and built this ship myself.” He scanned the decks of the submarine with a slight smile on his lips. “We are free adventurers, traveling wherever we will, whenever we will.”

  The two men chatted for a while longer. Finally, Swift could no longer contain himself. “I must sail in this ship, Captain de Nemours. Is there any possibility you could take me as a passenger? I don’t care where we go or for how long. I’ll pay whatever passage you ask.”

  “My most sincere apologies, Monsieur Swift. I cannot do that. We have, shall we say, things to do that preclude taking passengers.”

  Swift was downcast and wondered whether to press the point. He decided to wait, perhaps get to know this Captain better, then he might relent and take him along. They said their goodbyes, and Swift returned to his home thinking furiously.

  He immediately set pen to paper, describing the ship and its Captain in as much detail as he could remember. He intended to write about this ship and wanted to have accurate notes to go by. He hoped he would have the experience of actually sailing with the Captain.

  Once he had written all that he could on the brief meeting, he took another piece of paper, a fine foolscap, and wrote a note to Captain de Nemours, inviting him to dinner. He called his footman, Ben, and sent him off to the wharf to deliver the invitation.

  Ben soon returned with the note still in his hand. “I couldn’t find the ship, Master Swift. I asked around, but nobody seemed to know what I was talking about.”

  Swift sighed. He thought the good Captain regretted all that he had told him and had set sail to preclude just this type of pressure. He picked up his notes on the ship, and heaving another sigh, he sadly put them in the bottom drawer of his desk. “Maybe someday the Nautilus will return.” He could only hope.

  He pulled a few blank sheets of paper before him and picked up his quill. He had been working on this essay for a while and really should complete it. “What shall I title this?” he asked himself, then wrote “A Modest Proposal” at the top of the page.

  * * *

  More than one hundred forty years later, Jules Verne browsed through an antique shop in Paris. Spotting a desk of English design, he thought it would go nicely in his library. He bought the desk and gave directions for its delivery to his home.

  Later, he sat at his new purchase to examine its features. In a lower drawer in the back, almost hidden from view, he found a set of papers describing a fantastic ship and a captain named de Nemours.

  “Hmm, this gives me an idea,” he muttered and began to write.

  A Grab Bag of Drabbles

  Humor

  A drabble is a short story complete in 100 words.

  Previously published hither and yon.

  FLUFFY

  “Fluffy! Where are you, my silly darling?” Marie looked under the bushes and behind the garage. Nothing. Had Fluffy wandered off, or worse, hit by a car?

  Marie sighed and turned out the lights. Surely, tomorrow he’d be at the door begging for breakfast. She dropped into an uneasy sleep.

  At 2:17 a.m., she heard the scratching and the pitiful cries. Waking instantly, Marie raced to the kitchen. She swung open the door. “Fluffy!” she cried with relief. Fluffy leapt into her arms, wrapped his tentacles around her head, and sucked her eyes as she moaned in ecstasy.

  BACON!

  Sorry I thought you were giving me that. Ick now I smell it’s a nasty veggie. But hey! I’m not picky. What’s on the floor? Ooo, I love butter margarine grease whatever. I look cute sitting up. Hey cat quit laughing! Just cause you can jump on the counter that’s no reason…Ahh ear scritch my favorite. Oh boy a ball! I love the ball! Belly rub belly rub. Yes yes right there. Ahhhh. Sniff! What’s that? Mmm bitch in heat. My favorite! Yea! We’re going in the car! My favorite! Oh shit the vet! No no aiiieee!

  CRYONICS

  Frank studied the brochures carefully and made his decision to be cryogenically frozen when he died. He hoped that a future world might have an interest in thawing him and curing whatever disease got him in the end.

  He had a massive heart attack and dropped dead. Unfortunately, he hadn’t bothered to mention cryonics in his will and was subsequently drained, embalmed, and buried.

  Months later his daughter found the cryonics contract, all pre-paid. Being a dutiful daughter, she had the dessicated corpse dug up and frozen. However, she doubted whether medical science would ever be up to the challenge.

  THE DARK SIDE

  Garry grinned when the lander sped around to reveal the dark side of the moon. At last, a landing on the far side and he was the lucky astronaut.

  The lander set down with a slight bump. Garry prepared for the first walk on the far side. He pondered his words. What could beat Armstrong’s mankind speech?

  “Houston, I’m down. Start the public feed.” His foot drifted downward to touch the ground. And continued downward. Garry fell forward and sank into a bottomless pit filled with fine moon dust. All the public heard was ‘shit’ before the feed cut off.

  MISSION

  Mxoidth scanned the pockmarked moon orbiting forty-seven girns from the blue planet. His mission: establish a staging site for attacking the watery nirvana, perfectly distant from the yellow star. He frilled in anticipation of earning the Phlebith of High Rank. That would curl Hrgthr’s fringe. Mxoidth gritted his grinders, plunging his jetster toward the lunatoid’s gray surface.

  What was this? Mxoidth veered sharply away. A jetster like his own squatted i
n the mare he planned to claim for Hroidyytar. Seeing no movement, he cautiously descended.

  Hovering above the vehicle, he snarled when Hrgthr waved at him from the hatch. Zhit!

  About the Author

  Marva Dasef is a writer living in the Pacific Northwest with her husband. Retired from thirty-five years in the software industry, she has now turned her energies to writing fiction and finds it a much more satisfying occupation. Marva has published more than forty stories in a number of on-line and print magazines, with several included in Best of anthologies. She has many already published books, with several already in audiobook format. For more information on Marva’s books, see her blog and website:

  https://mgddasef.blogspot.com

  https://tinyurl.com/DasefAuthor

  Published Books in Print and Ebook

  Tales of a Texas Boy (also an audio book)

  Missing, Assumed Dead (also an audio book)

  Spellslinger (also an audio book)

  Bad Spelling (also an audio book)

  Midnight Oil (also an audio book)

  Scotch Broom (also an audio book)

  Eagle Quest

  First Duty

  Ultimate Duty

  Mixed Bag

  Mixed Bag II: Supersized

  Tales of Abu Nuwas - Setara’s Genie

  Quest for the Simurgh - Faizah’s Destiny