Merlin & The Mad #3

Part 3

MERLIN & THE MAD #3

By

Michael A. Wolf

 

            “Between grief and nothing, I will take…a chili dog.”

            “What the hell does that mean?” Merlin asked as they drove back to the city.

            “I’m hungry.” And The Mad pointed out the window.  “Drive to Abigail’s.”  He was met by quite a serious look on the wizard’s part.  A look that appeared to do nothing to deter him from his search for junk food.  They left Greenstone Avenue and merged onto the parkway.

            To say they rode in silence for a good section of the trip would be an outright lie.  The Hatter made chatter that did batter and natter.  Merlin tried everything he could to withstand the wordy assault; nodding, smiling, agreeing and even attempting to contribute.  But in the end, all he could do was turn up the radio and try to drown The Mad out.

            “There’s Abigail’s.”  Merlin finally said.  “Stop talking.”

 

                                                                        *

 

            It was quiet in their favorite eatery.  They walked past the friendly face of Lenore at the counter and took seats in a booth under a painting of St. George slaying his dragon.  Merlin tossed his hat between them on the bench and signaled for The Mad to do the same.  The Hatter removed his topper, reluctantly and scowled at his friend before picking up a menu.  He scanned the fare and made various faces as he read.

            “Didn’t you say you wanted a chili dog?” Merlin asked.

            “Yes, oh yes.” The Mad said without looking up.

            “Then why are you going over the menu?”  He tapped the paper with a butter knife, but The Hatter kept reading.  He now knew that his friend was doing more than simply focusing on Abigail’s food.  It was a feeling (vibe?) The Mad gave off very seldom, and it concerned the wizard.  Surely his friend was a madman; a lunatic with fringes that avoided the dangerous, but stood firmly in the bizarre.  This however was a different behavior.  The Mad seemed as though whatever fervent thoughts were swirling ‘round his crazed cranium were causing him distress; and he was doing his unlevel best to ignore or avoid them.

            “Talk to me, Hatter.” Merlin said with sincere care.  “Why are you acting this way?”

            “Hunger gnaws at me guts.” He answered as a pirate.  He did turn to look at the wizard.  “And it pains me so.” He said, sadly, buccaneer-style and somewhat subdued.  Then, “What’re you gonna have, me hearty?”

            “Seriously?” Merlin asked with as much incredulity as was necessary.  Lenore approached them

            “Merlin and The Mad.” She said with another smile.  “How are you today?” And she set down two glasses of ice water.

            “I’m good.”  Merlin said.  “He’s feeling a bit salty.” He crooked a thumb towards The Hatter.

            “Hello, Lenore.” The Mad said, his voice an octave lower and much more suave than just a moment before.  He looked her in the eye and acted as though the menu had never been there.  She smiled at him, differently than she had at the wizard.

            “Hatter, may I get you some tea?  And, let me guess…a chili dog?” 

            “Why do I even look at the menu?” He asked, and gazed directly at her.

            “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Merlin said.  “And I’d like a veggie burger and coffee.”

            “I’m sorry.” Lenore said.  “What was that?”  She snapped from her reverie a touch and faced him.  Merlin repeated his order and Lenore walked off to get their lunches started.  The wizard glared at The Hatter, who smiled back at him, smugly.  There was a moment of knowing silence between them.  Merlin felt the compassion he’d had for his friend begin to battle anger at The Hatter’s ability to manipulate social situations.  An absolute asset at times in the work Merlin and The Mad did; but sometimes it confounded the wizard in real-world application.

            “So, where did you go?”  Merlin asked.  “During our entire ride here, with all the talking you did, you never told me where you walked off to.”

            “Ah, the rider.” The Hatter said.  He sipped from his glass of water.  “Is that a story I should tell you now?”

            “When better?”  Merlin asked.  “I mean, here we are, in the restaurant, it’s quiet and there’s ample time for exposition.”

            “You sound insane.” The Mad said.  Lenore returned with their drinks.  “Thank you.” The Hatter told her.  She winked and walked away.  “So, you were insaning…?” The Mad refocused on Merlin.

            “I want to know about the rider.  Who was he?”

            “Awful man.” The Hatter answered.  “Very good at being a young woman, though.”  He picked up his tea and began to stir it anti-clockwise.  “Complimented my clothes…or insulted them.  It’s hard to tell which sometimes.  You know, raven, writing desk and all that.”  He stopped stirring.

            “Her significance?” Merlin asked, after waiting patiently for The Mad.

            “She sits a fine horse.”  He said.  “And she’s Herkus Circus’ niece at peace.  No, not peaceful…troubled, and trouble.”  He looked around the restaurant and appeared unsettled.  “Where’s that chili dog?”

            “Mad,” Merlin placed a hand on his friend’s arm.  “Did you ask her about the haunting?”

            “Not involved with that business.” The Hatter said, looking away.  “But she has, what did you say…significance?  Yes, yes, knight of Chess, she is important.”

            Merlin began to worry.  He’d never seen his friend in quite a state.  He was about to offer comfort and words of ease when Lenore returned with their orders.  She put plates in front of them and asked if there was anything else they needed.

            “Barbecue sauce.” Merlin answered a bit absently.  He kept his eye on The Hatter who turned slowly toward Lenore and somehow dredged up a smile. 

Then The Mad cocked his head a little and said to the young waitress: “Clarity.”

 

                                                                        *