Chapter Seven ~ I was on your porch last night

It was a wonderful day at the zen pagoda!

Some kind soul had bestowed upon AWC a miniature oven, by means of owl post, while leaving no return address or card of any sort. It was quite portable, so AWC could pick it up and move it outdoors if she wanted, or on the roof, or under the roof, or beneath the floorboards. "But whatever could it be for?"

There was a blustery dash of wind just beyond the arched doorway, and the wind chime she had hung outside began to ring a nice melody. Someone had come to see her.

She jumped up off her meditational mat and hurried over to the doorway, to find Mary-Anne the Maneater standing on the not-welcome mat. She had a big smile on her face. She must have just eaten.

"Why are you at the inner sanctum of my mind?" AWC asked. "Did I send you an invitation and forget about it? I hate it when that happens."

"Nope, I was just wondering if you got your easy-revolt oven in the mail today." The maneater pulled out two cookbooks from behind her back. "I thought we could try it out..." she whispered. "But we can't be too obvious about it or big brother will find out."

"Big brother?" AWC was confused. "Why..."

"He can see you even in your mind," Maneater explained in a harsh whisper, "so you need to be extra careful that no one sees us do this."

AWC was horrified. "But big brother never bothered the heavenly forest before!"

"SSHHH!" Mary-Anne Maneater said. "Well he is now. He wants to burn down the forests. He wants to turn all the forests back into caves and mines, like they used to be in olden times. He wants to fill the caves with rats, and he wants the rats to chase out and/or devour anyone who dares to protest."

AWC freaked out. She wrung her hands together and then tore out her hair. "Big brother can't come! He will destroy all we hold dear! Without the forests, where will our ideas live? Where will our ideas go?"

"To work in the mines," the maneater said solemnly. "And our ideas will work for Them and Big Brother, and they will no longer be ideas, but commodities."

"Like in that manifesto!" AWC gasped. "Oh, Mary-Anne Maneater, I don't want us to all have to go work for Them..."

"I know. That's what the easy-revollt oven is designed for. My idea is, we can use it to free the pirate queen."

"Mary-Anne you can't free the pirate queen," AWC said, shaking her head sadly, "she's allergic to those cave rats."

"Let's say, however, we remove the cave rats from the mines?" Maneater suggested.

"Can we do that?" AWC asked.

"I don't know, with my easy-revolt oven it shouldn't be too difficult I imagine. We'll follow the recipe for happy children cake. When the cave rats smell it, it will make them dreadfully ill, and they will all have to leave."

AWC was excited. "Yeah! And when the mines are empty of cave rats, we can turn them into forests, where ideas can grow and develop and live in peace and harmony!"

Mary-Anne nodded, "exactly."

"So when are we going in and who are we taking?"

"Narcissa, Forget-me-not, you, the dragon lady, Paolo the foreigner, myself, and other minor supporters will be there for other support. This includes the president, he too is anxious to help in any way he can."

The maneater and the AWC stood and stared at each other for a few minutes. "How do we start?" AWC asked.

"Well, let's preheat the oven," Mary-Anne replied.

"And then?"

"We infiltrate the mines."

"Down with big brother?" AWC posed the question. Smoke began to sift out through the doorway of the zen pagoda.

"Uh oh..." Mary-Anne said, "Something's burning. You know what that means."

"No, what?" AWC jumped back from the door, as the smoke grew thicker.

"He knows..." Mary-Anne looked horrified. "Big Brother knows..."

"That's impossible," AWC said. "It's impossible." But she turned around, and there was the zen pagoda, engulfed in red flames.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Wake up."

"No."

"Wake up."

"I don't want to"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


AWC woke up on the floor of her zen pagoda. She looked left, looked right. No signs of fire. No easy-revolt oven. No Mary-Anne chiming at the door.

Just a cake sitting on the coffee table with pink icing.