At The Sign of The Screaming Monkey's Head
Episode 1 - A Stranger In Town.
A chill November wind blew out of the North, driving leaves, bits of garbage, and a greyish, unkempt man before it. The tall buildings focused the wind at street level, and it howled past shuttered windows and doors. Shivering before the wind’s onslaught, a tattered mackinaw gathered tightly about him, he sought shelter.
Rounding a corner, he saw a wooden sign adorned with the head of a screaming monkey. It was not the actual head. Rather it was a carefully wrought carving. The bizarre likeness hung over a window so encrusted with the dust of ages that only an orange luster emanated. After trying without success to peer within, the unkempt man focused on the grotesque image above. He searched for some clue as to the nature of the establishment. The screaming monkey’s head only stared back, causing a shiver to run up his back that had nothing to do with the weather.
If there had once been a name or some wording on the sign, it had long ago worn off. He turned to the rough hewn black door, started to knock, then simply pushed it open.
Stepping inside he paused to let his eyes adjust to the dim light. He was in a tavern.
Kindly Bob stood behind the bar, wiping out a glass. “Welcome!”, he cried, “Come in, come in.” The unkempt man took a seat at the bar and let his shivering subside.
“Strange weather, for May”, said Kindly Bob. “Is it May?”, came a voice from a shadowy alcove. “Dunno,” he replied, “but my comment is valid enough, regardless.” “S’pose so…”, the reply drifted away, losing substance as its author lost interest. Kindly Bob turned to the unkempt man. “What’ll it be, stranger?” “Mmm… mulled wine?”, the stranger asked. A snort came from somewhere down the bar. “Sure, though it will take a bit. Can’t hurry that drink. Got to mull it over, so to speak.”
The stranger looked at Kindly Bob, searching his face for some sign of humor, or a sense that he was being made fun of. Kindly Bob’s face was impenetrable. He simply looked back, his oddly blue eyes emotionless.
“So, while we’re waiting, what’s your name? You needn’t give your real name. Fact is we can’t refer to you as ‘the unkempt man’ all night. So, what’s your distinction?” “Gandalf the Grey”, said the unkempt man.
Kindly Bob regarded him long and slow. “He was a being of subtle majesty and abundant skill. Why don’t we try again?” “Call me Fred.” “OK Fred. Here’s your mulled wine.”
Fred sat holding his drink, letting the steam rise to his face and permeate his senses. “Speak to me of Scram Jets, and thing that go Mach 8.” The eerie dark voice came from his left, and Fred started violently, sloshing his drink on his hands and coat. He thought he had been sitting alone at the bar. He turned to look at the owner of the darkling voice.
Sitting beside him was a large bald ebony man, wearing a black turtle neck and a yarmulke. His eyes were feral, and he seemed to quiver with alertness. “I, I, uh, mmm, what?”, stammered Fred. “He said Scram Jets”, Kindly Bob was wiping off Fred’s hands and coat. “What?”, asked Fred. “Sscram Jetssss”, hissed the ebony man.
Fred leaped up and looked around. He experienced a moment of vertigo. When he re-focused, Kindly Bob was gone, and the ebony man was sitting very attentively. “What’s a scram jet?”, asked Fred. The ebony man’s face contorted with annoyance. “The peculiar arrogance of the willfully ignorant!”, he fairly spat, and then he stood. “Prepare yourself. If not you, then who?”, he asked. Surely he simply walked away, but Fred did not see him go. Rather, Fred became aware that the large man was no longer in the tavern. For the second time that day a non-weather related chill ran up his spine.
Kindly Bob pressed another mug of wine into Fred’s hands. “Drink this, and then I’ve got a room in back. You can bunk there tonight. There is much, much, and no time. Ah, that’s our lot though.” He gave Fred a wink, as thought they were party to some conspiracy. “Is there something I need to know?” Fred asked. Kindly Bob gave a laugh. “Always! What not to know… now there is the valuable question.”
On impulse Fred drained his mug and said, “Bunk?” Kindly Bob motioned that he should follow and led him behind the bar and through a door to a hall. Two doors down on the left was a curtained space. Inside was a small bunk, and a low table. Kindly Bob lit the candle that Fred had not noticed and turned to leave.
“Where am I?” Fred asked softly. “Why, you’re at the Sign of The Screaming Monkey’s Head. Pleasant Dreams.”
Hey Al! Thanks!