We took first watch while Zombie collapsed, drunken and abused by shrubberies. The camp of the Mullet men had quieted, but we were wary, still.
It was late. Even the belligerently drunk red necks had tired of harassing their significant others for sex and collapsed in tents and trucks across the campground.
‘Auli’i was digging in her bag, feverishly.
“Looking for cigarettes?”
“No. I have those.” She holds them up as proof and hands me one before diving back into the bag. “Looking for my lighter. Here lighter… Where are you…”
I couldn’t see her face. It was black, silhouetted by moonlight dripping through the trees to the East. I wondered if she could see mine.
Mild laughter drifted over from a campground not too far away. They had tiki torches, and I could see the dappled orange glow of a fire.
“We can get fire over there,” I suggested. She continued digging. “Want me to go get a light?”
“Well…”
“Come on. We can get a light over there.”
Now, the camp of the Mullet men could never be described in the mere mortal words of man, its awesome majesty too majestic, urging even the Angels of the Lord to avert their eyes in reverence. Perched ‘round the central fire, a flock of tents, the finest nylons and polyesters from far away kingdoms such as OshLands and as captured from their Acadenemies. And they had tiki torches, cast like pillars to hold back the dome of the sky. And they had logs.
By its grandeur, I knew this camp could only belong to Taz, King of the Mullet Men. I was drawn to his magnificence as a smoker is drawn to a flame.
I led, quietly, being careful not to wake his sentries, cleverly disguised as drunken, East county, fat hogs of men, asleep in dome tents.
“Who goes there,” bellowed Taz.
I stepped forward. “Good evening. Just wanted to steal your fire.” Three mullet peoples squatted on logs around a fiercesome Taz, lounging in a lawnchair.
“Do you know where you are? What camp this is?”
“Uh… Of course I do.”
“Who’s camp are you in?”
“This is the greatest camp there is. Only a fool would not know what camp this was.”
“You. Are in. CHAOS.” He paused to let his words rumble and echo. Absent any appreciable echo he continued. “I am Taz.” Pause. “Our camp is bound by these lines you see here.” At this he turned his attention to a rapier stuck in the ground before the fire, trying to wrest it free. “Dammit. Uh. There.” Gesturing wildly towards the lines encircling the camp. “This is our domain. We are all powerful inside these ropes!”
“Well… you’d think chaos wouldn’t be bound by anything.”
“No one dares enter the camp of CHAOS!” Pause. “They’d quickly find themselves surrounded. Our weapons’d be out. They’d be in a bad place.” Gesture, gesture. Occasionally his mullet subjects would lean away from the gesturing.
“This is my sword. Don’t let it worry you. It’s only out for cooking. Otherwise you’d never see it out. Well, cooking, and of course to fight.
“You don’t want to see me with my sword out,” he gestured wildly.
“And there was last week, we were going to a hand-fasting. There you saw this Horde of Chaos marching along, all of our weapons out.
“They thought we were going to kill someone.”
At about this point ‘Auli’i came into view, also having made it past the cleverly disguised Sentries of Chaos. “What woman goes there! Come forward.”
(Taz’s amazing strengths in gender perception have been discussed previously. c.f. Ch.1 Mayhem of the Mangy Mullets).
You could see her pondering on whether to use her deep voice. “Hey.” She kind of stood there.
“Come forward.” Two steps closer. “Come forward.” A couple more. “More. Come here. Let me look at you.” A step forward. “Come closer.”
At last, the wily Taz had lured her within his reach. I watched with trepidation. He’d surely notice she had no mullet. The game was up. The kill was his. She would be cut in two with his next gesture. They would dine on freak stew. I had led us to an agonizing mullet doom.
“Hmph.” He looked her up and down. “You are acceptable.” Eyeing me with a drunken squint and one good eye. “I’ll have to steal her from you.”
One of the mullets spoke. “You can’t do that, Taz.” From the soft, round face I could detect the feminine, or a mullet man on muscle relaxers.
“Eh… Well, that’s alright. I’ve got one back in my tent.”
I lit my cigarette on a tiki torch. “We’ve got to get going.” ‘Auli’i lit her cigarette. “We’ll probably see you tomorrow at the Faire.”
We scuttled into the welcoming darkness…