Chapter XII – Dinner for Four
"Ok," Jack said as they walked to the table, "Two chapters ago Adam Dirtpassion tried to kill us. Why the hell are we about to sit down and have dinner with him?"
"Because they are in the same idiotic boat we are," Jim shrugged, "You think they have anything more to do with this story being as stupid as it is than we do?"
"Can we at least stick them with the check?" Jack wondered, "Because I think this is in very poor taste."
"I wouldn’t mind sticking Reizvolle with something else," Jim grinned, "And how would you know about taste anyway?"
"I’m a gay jewish black dude?" Jack reminded him, "Ever see Queer Eye for the Straight Guy? I put your hetero ass to shame when it comes to taste."
"I wouldn’t know," Jim shrugged, "I’ve never tasted you."
"And you never will," Jack assured him, "Even I have standards…"
"Boys, boys, boys," Reizvolle cooed as she sashayed over to the table, "Who do I get to sit next to?"
"I guess Jim will give a seat to you," Jack said, "So to what do we owe the honor of your visit?"
"General boredom," Adam said, "I think the author wanted to do something to have us get to meet each other before we eventually had to fight to the death."
"I’m sure we’ll get to know each other plenty," Jim agreed, "We still have some twenty nine thousand words to go through before they relieve us of this pain."
"I take it you followed us," Jack said, looking at them, "Seeing that you are here in Paris some twenty minutes after we arrived."
"We have better travel agents," Reizvolle told them sultrily, "And I have the, let’s say assets, to get better seats from a male clerk…"
"Translation," Jim frowned, "You don’t work for the government."
"Exactly," Adam agreed, "That’s it in a nutshell."
"So why are you trying to find this?" Jack asked them, "You showed up and tried to kill Jim, did kill Alexandra and now you’re trying to kill me too."
"My motivations will become clear later on," Adam assured them, "As will Reizvolle’s."
"Translation," Jim said, "The author doesn’t have a clue and neither do you, so you’re feeding us that line to keep things going."
"Exactly," Adam agreed, "Now where is the food?"
Another snooty French waiter brought some food out to them. He didn’t understand any English, nor did he care to try to figure out what the Americans wanted. He slopped down a pile of prissy looking French food and made it look as unappetizing as possible.
"Lovely," Reizvolle smarmed, "I see you already made an impression."
"Don’t eat the soufflé," Jim suggested, "Trust me on that."
"So what do we talk about?" Jack wondered, "I mean we’re all sitting here at a table covered with disgusting food and on opposite sides of the game here. There is no reason for this scene to exist."
"We will get what we’re looking for," Adam told them, "Count on it."
"You know what we need," Jim said, "Another musical bit."
"That’s what got Alexandra shot," Reizvolle said erotically, "Remember?"
"Well," Jack said, "At this point I’m all for it. We’ve wasted this much time with this idiotic section, we might as well go all the way for a full blown musical number."
"I don’t want anything to do with it," Adam said, "Unless it’s to protest our complete and utter lack of a plot."
"Maestro!" Jim said, "Could we have the music to a song from the Wizard of Oz please? I’m sure you’ll figure out the right one…"
Jim Stalin snapped his fingers and the band, who did not understand a word he was saying, started to play the music to the old classic one that fit him best, If I Only Had A Brain. The room applauded the music and felt it very appropriate to the ridiculous scene that they had all found themselves a part of.
"I could while away the hours," Jim sang, doing his worst lounge singer imitation, "Conferring with the bloggers… Confusing is as was my refrain…"
"He’s delusional," Reizvolle said dreamily, "I love it…"
"And the stupidity may be exacting," Jim sang, "This type of tripe I am dispatching… If I only had a plot…"
"And so the truth comes in," Jack grinned, "Go for it, Jim."
"I’d create a brand new riddle," Jim continued, "For every individual, but instead I cause this pain…"
"No kidding," Adam agreed.
"It is thoughts you would be thinking," Jim sang, "Instead of soufflés in which we were piddling… If you only had a plot."
"We’ll get one someday," Adam said, "In a cemetery with the way this story is going."
"Shush," Jack barked, "Enough!"
"I could tell you why the Gremlin is running some more," Jim continued, "I could think of twists you’d never seen before…"
Jim did a little dance before he went into his grand finale
"And then I’d sit and play some more. I would not be just an American with a head all full of swearing, the censors jobs all in vain" Jim sang his heart out, "I would not dance or sing or drink sherry, life would be more than ancillary, if we only had a plot…"
"This is easily the dumbest thing I’ve ever been a party to," Jack said, "I can’t believe we’ve sunk this low."
"You obviously weren’t there on the island," Adam grumbled, "So what do we do from here? I can’t shoot either of you. They didn’t bother to give me a gun."
"I guess we eat some dinner," Reizvolle said lustily, "We still have quite a bit to do before we actually have to run around Paris chasing each other."
"I’d suggest avoiding the soufflé," Jack suggested, remembering the earlier threat, "Stick with the quiche."
"Ugh," Jim said, "Can I get a hamburger?"
They actually managed to eat the food, though they all followed Jack’s advice and skipped the rather yellowish soufflé. By the end of the meal they had all had some wine and plenty of food. They looked around and tried to figure out a graceful way to end this meal without them killing each other.
"So what do we do now?" Jack wondered, "I mean we still have some twenty seven thousand words or so to go. Why are we sitting together singing, drinking and eating well?"
"Because we needed the obligatory get to know you scene," Jim said, "And she is damn hot."
"Thank you," Reizvolle cooed, "I appreciate that."
"I still don’t know why we’re looking for this object," Adam said, "Can we decide that before you leave?"
"Sure," Jim agreed, "I don’t see any reason why not."
"We’ve wanted the black fossil for years," Reizvolle said lasciviously, "It has powers that a mind a small as yours will never understand."
"Such as?" Jim wondered, trying to get more information, "I mean, what use could it have that is relevant today."
"Just ask your President Clinton," Adam said, "He spent millions trying to find it."
"That doesn’t tell me what it does," Jim said, "I mean the only thing it ever did was cause an orgy…"
"It does more than that," Reizvolle told them, the words rolling sexily off her tongue, "It creates the urge for them, just bringing it through that town created that orgy…"
"Oh my," Jim said, "D.C. is bad enough… Can you imagine if they brought that thing in…"
"It would be chaos," Adam grinned, "Beautiful, sweet chaos. All caused by a single black fossil."
"We can’t let you succeed," Jack said, "You know that, right?"
"You mean you’d care?" Adam asked, "Honestly?"
"We’re government employees," Jim told him, "We’re paid to care. Or not. I never figured out what they paid us for. But in this case I think we’ll be better off stopping you."
"Why is that?" Adam wondered, "I never did get that part."
"Because if I stopped trying to stop you," Jim said, his mouth forming a wide grin, "This book would end here and we still have a good twenty-seven thousand words and change to go. So we’re going to be chasing each other around for a bi
t."
"I have other plans," Reizvolle said sleekly, "But I will think of you…"
Reizvolle Dirne stood up and bowed, showing enough cleavage to make both of the straight men drool. Adam, deciding that it would probably better to follow the hot blonde than stick with the hero and the gay Jewish black dude, followed her bottom with his eyes and the rest of her body with his feet.
"So what do we do next, buddy?" Jack asked him, "I’m tired."
"Let’s go get some sleep," Jim shrugged, "Let them do the obligatory da Vinci code rip off before we go to that museum place."
"The Louvre?" Jack asked him.
"Whatever," Jim shrugged, "Want some soufflé?"