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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
BIKINI BRIGADE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Seven
Night was falling as the two little peanuts entered the marsh. None
of the gingermen had deigned to go with them. They wished to complain
about it to Licorice Lad but, considering the matter, they decided to go get
royal robes made for themselves, first. Royal robes, plus beautiful candy
staffs. Perhaps then, decked out in fine attire, they�d be able to order the
gingermen to do their bidding. If not, then, after ingratiating themselves
again with Licorice Lad, they�d bring up the matter with him. Then they�d
put any gingermen who didn�t do as they were told in the dungeon.
�We�ll be very important soon,� Percy said to Paul.
�Yes,� Paul agreed. �Then all the gingermen will do as we tell them,
and off with their heads if they don�t!�
�And no more having to work downstairs in the kitchen for us!�
Percy added.
�Yes,� Paul agreed. �All those years, serving the Sultan. Baking
pies, and making peanut brittle, and emptying the garbage. I�m glad
Licorice Lad�s in charge. Now we�ll be important!�
�Yes! We�ll be important peanuts!�
�Very, very important peanuts. Retainers to the Sultan himself--
Licorice Lad!�
�Right!� Percy agreed.
They found an old raft near the roadway. It was made of bamboo that
had been cut down and lashed together with vines. They got on it and,
taking a pole conveniently left lying on its deck, they pushed their way out
into the muck of Molasses Moor.
The moon rose, but they could not see it, in amidst the overhanging
branches. Percy lit a latern. Then he got a compass out of his pocket. He
studied it.
�That way,� Percy whispered to Paul. The peanut nodded and poled in
the direction Percy had indicated, shoving their pole down into the swamp
and pushing, where he could find it, against its bottom.
They poled through brackish syrup. They passed fudgesicles growing
in crabgrass. They gazed at a grey heron sitting atop a fudgesicle and he
gazed back at them. He had beady eyes. His bill looked large enough to
swallow them whole, if he should choose to have them for his supper
instead of the cookie goldfish that swam in the depths of the swamp. A
sooty tern passed quickly overhead, going somewhere in the dark.
A ripe mango dropped with a plop somewhere. It fell into the
molasses which now surrounded their raft and extended for miles around
them. The two peanuts shivered. There was no land here. If their raft
overturned, they�d sink into the muck and never see their happy peanut
fields again. They�d die a color Licorice Lad liked, though; both of them
coated a deep, rich, chocolaty brown, almost his favorite color, black.
�Did you hear something?� Percy peanut asked his friend quietly.
�No. Did you?� Paul replied.
�I thought I did. But hopefully I didn�t,� Percy said. Then he thought
he heard it again. It was a slow, slushing sound, as of something trying to
rise out of a watery grave. They passed under the moss of a cypress tree.
�OOOGOOOLOOOOP!� sounded loudly to their right. The two peanuts
screamed and grabbed at each other. Paul dropped their pole and it sank
quickly into the muck.
Slowly a figure rose up from the depths of the swamp. He was quite
large. He dripped with molasses. He had large eyes that rolled almost
aimlessly in his head. His tongue drooped from his mouth. There was a
crooked smile on his face. He lifted his arms and seemed to grow and
grow, until he towered over their small raft. If the raft hadn�t bumped up
against a cypress when he appeared, it might well have overturned. His
rising, quick and reckless, caused dangerous waves to go rolling across
the swamp.
�Molasses Moe!� the two small peanuts cried.
�Who are Yooooou?� the large, brownish monster asked. He bent
down and peered at the peanuts. He seemed to be nearsighted and he had to
put his head quite close to them to see them.
�We are peanuts!� Paul said. �On business of the Sultan!�
�Are you nice peanuts?� Moe asked.
�Very, very nice peanuts!� Percy said.
The large molasses-covered monster took a bite out of a fudgesicle
he was holding. Then he asked, �How very nice are you?�
�We are so nice--� Percy began.
Moe chewed loudly. His mouth made goopy noises as he chewed. �Do
yooou know the golden rule?� Moe asked.
�Do unto other peanuts as you would have them do unto you!� Paul
said quickly.
Moe frowned. �Hmmmm,� he said. He kept chewing. Then he
swallowed, somehow, and took another bite out of his fudgesicle. �That�s
not the golden rule I know,� he said.
�What is it, then?� Percy asked.
�It�s--� Moe said. He paused and swallowed. �It�s doooo unto
others,� he said. He took a new bite of his fudgesicle and then proceeded
to speak while chewing it. �It�s doooo unto others, as you would have
them do unto you. That means me too! And I�m not a peanut.�
�Do-- uh,� Paul began. �Do unto others as you would have them do
unto you,� Paul gasped. It was horrifying, having to look at the monster�s
big, goopy mouth, so near, and so able to swallow them both if he chose to.
Especially with those large, rolling eyes above it, eyes that might not see
what he was eating, and might not care, so long as it was chewable.
�That�s pretty goop!� Molasses Moe said. He ended his sentence by
taking another bite out of his fudgesicle, even though he hadn�t quite
finished chewing and swallowing the previous one.
�Thanks,� Paul breathed.
�Here, let me be nice too, and get your pole,� Moe offered. �You
dropped it.� He oozed down toward the swamp�s surface, until little more
than his eyes were above it. He seemed to move under the raft. Then,
suddenly, he thrust up their pole with one of his goopy arms, almost
overturning their raft a second time. �Here it is. I found it! I�m a nice
monster,� Moe declared. He handed them a very drippy pole, all covered
with syrup.
�Uh, thanks,� Paul said, for without the pole, they�d have been stuck
in the swamp, with no way to move their raft through it. All the same, it
was quite sticky, and he disliked having to handle such a drippy, sticky
pole.
�Bye, bye,� Moe said. �Have a nice trip through my swamp. I like
being able to be nice, to nice people.�
�Yes,� Paul agreed. Percy nodded with the same hasty agreement as
Paul, both of them hoping to be rid of the monster.
�Bye, bye again,� Moe said, a little lonely perhaps, not wanting to
leave them.
�Sultan�s business,� Percy said, hoping to move the monster out of
their way.
�Wait,� Moe said. He rose up again, but more slowly this time. �We
have a new Sultan now, don�t we?� The peanuts looked at each other.
Hesistantly, they nodded. �Is he a nice Sultan?� Moe asked.
�He�s uh--� Percy said.
�I hear he�s not such a nice Sultan,� Moe said. �Does he know the
golden rule?�
�Hopefully he�s a nice Sultan,� Paul offered.
�Hmmmm,� Moe said. �I wish I could go to the Citadel and ask him. I
only want nice people to be able to pass through my swamp.�
�How about--� Paul thought fast. �How about this?� he said. �He
taught us a Niceness Song, and told us to sing it to you, to prove he�s very
nice.�
Molasses Moe brightened. He even forgot to take another bite out of
his fudgesicle. �A niceness song?� he asked. �I like songs. Especially
nice ones!�
�Yep,� Paul said, nudging Percy, and giving his companion a nervous
wink. �The Niceness song:
�I am so Nice,
Some people are like ice.
But not me,
If you please,
I choose to, uh, beee
Nice!�
�Yippeee!� Molasses Moe cried. He clapped his big, goopy hands
together and molasses went flying all over, spattering the trees, and both
peanuts and their raft. Their pole, already sticky, got even stickier.
�That�s a wonderful song!� Moe said. �Could you please teach it to me?�
�Um, okay,� Paul said.
�Can you remember it?� Percy asked, knowing his friend had just
made it up, a moment before.
�I certainly hope so,� Paul said.
We stood in the courtyard of Fruitcake Fort. It lay high up in the
gumdrop mountains. Sugar, mixed with snow, was falling rather heavily
as we stepped down from the carriage. I rubbed my wrists. They were
free again. I flexed my arms. They were sore from having been pulled
back behind me all morning. I brushed flakes of sugar and snow off my
breasts. I looked over at Katie. She wrapped her arms around herself.
�It�s snowing,� Katie said. Sugar and snow fell on her hair, making
her look as if she had dandruff.
I gazed up at the walls of the fort. They rose high around us. I saw
perhaps three dozen gingermen. A flag was flying. It had a picture of a
berry-filled fruitcake on it.
�Arrest them,� Freddie said, behind me. He was stepping down out
of our carriage. He spoke to some of the gingermen standing around us in
the courtyard. I assumed he meant myself, and Katie, and I turned around
to see why we must be tied again, after having just been released.
A cry went up. It was a cry from one of the gingermen who had
guarded us on our journey. A moment later there was a full-blown scuffle,
and then a fight. The gingermen fought each other. Those in the courtyard,
surrounding our carriage, against our guards.
�What�s happening?� Katie asked. Her eyes were wide. So were
mine. Were our guards, who�d tied us up so many times, trying to keep us
from being arrested? What could it all mean?
Freddie jumped clear of the fight. He watched dispassionately as
the gingermen in the courtyard wrestled our four guards to the ground.
Suddenly, our carriage lurched forward. It bolted for the gates of the fort.
�Stop the carriage!� Freddie yelled to the gingermen in the
courtyard. Our driver, heretofore a most compliant and obedient man,
whipped the Clydesdales hard, putting them into a gallop as they neared
the fort�s gates. They were just closing, but the horses, stung hard by the
whip, managed to wrench the carriage through them. Glistening sugar
plums got knocked off the sides of the carriage as it scraped between the
closing gates.
�Stop the--� Freddie yelled. His eyes were wild. �Dammit! The
driver! Get the driver-- kill him if you must!� Gingermen bolted through
the gates of the fort and ran after the carriage. But the carriage was fast
and the gingermen were not fast runners. Though I could not see very far
beyond the gates, it seemed to me that they would not catch it.
I turned back to where the carriage had been and found our four
guards being bound up, their hands tied behind them with licorice.
�What�s happening?� Katie asked again.
�You will not be going to the Citadel,� Freddie said. He turned to
myself and Katie.
�Where-- where will we be going?� Katie asked.
�You are welcome to stay here,� Freddie said. �Stay and help us
fight for the freedom of Candyland.� I looked at the gingermen who
surrounded us.
�They do not work for the Sultan?� I asked.
�No,� Freddie said. �Certainly not for Licorice Lad. And perhaps not
for the old Sultan either. They are all members of the Gingerman
Autonomy movement. Freedom for the Gingermen, and all that. I�ve been
trying to work out, in code of course, so the guards could not read it, how
to free Candyland. That�s what all this paperwork was about, that I was
doing on our trip,� he said. He gestured to the papers under his arm. �We
are heavily outnumbered, but perhaps there is a way. Certainly this fort is
a strong position, and even if we cannot take the Citadel, we will be a long
time in having to surrender.� He paused. �At least, I hope so,� he added.
He waved at the sky. �The snow helps. Snow, and the heights of the
mountains.�
�This is a new development,� I said, stating the obvious. I knew not
what else to say.
�We�d better get inside. There�s a storm coming,� Freddie said.
�Lots of children must be dreaming of candy tonight. We shall go inside,
and discuss things further.�
�Wow. I wish I was built like that,� Al said. They gazed at a column
of figures trudging along the road. The figures were advancing toward
them. The figures had chocolaty brown trousers and bare, sugary chests.
�They look-- they look like gingerbread men,� Wilma said.
�Of course! We�re in some damn amusement park. What do you
expect?� Matilda asked.
�It�s a rather big amusement park,� Glenda said. They�d been
walking for hours along the coast and seen only meadows of wild grasses.
�Well, a back lot of some movie studio, then,� Matilda said. �But
we�ll get some answers now, from these blokes. And better answers than
that gibberish that guy in the bear costume managed to give us, or my
name�s not Matilda Brunswald!�
The gingerbread men marched up to the four people as they stood in
the road. As they came close, they did not slow their pace, or seem to
even notice the people. But they obviously expected the people to get out
of their way, because the lead gingerman did not move aside as he closed
with them.
�OW!� Matilda cried. �You stepped on my foot!�
�Move aside! Government business!� the gingerman said in a deep,
bellowing voice. He looked at Matilda with the vacant stare of one who
holds power, regarding one who does not.
�Government business?� Glenda asked, frowning. She stepped back a
little, to the edge of the road, lest the gingermen should choose to walk
right over Matilda. For her part, Matilda, though jumping up and down now,
on account of having her foot stomped on, did not yield to the gingermen.
�We are on business of Licorice Lad, the new Sultan. He is the
government, and we are on his business,� the gingerman said.
�Well you still stepped on my foot, and that�s rude. Especially for a
Man!� Matilda growled. She whacked the gingerman with her hand. He
seemed not to notice. On the other hand, she seemed to derive a certain
amount of pain from the gesture. �OWWW!� Matilda cried again, this time
rubbing her hand.
�Move, human! Government business!� the gingerman roared.
�I am not moving. I *am* the government!� Matilda replied,
stamping her foot. It was the foot the gingerman had stepped on and she
said �OW!� as it hit the ground.
The gingerman shoved Matilda aside with a wave of his big, sugary
arm. She went sprawling across the roadway and landed near the grass.
Glenda stepped back further, into the meadow, as did Wilma and Al.
The gingermen marched on.
�Good day to you!� Al called to them as they passed. They followed
the road up over a hill and into the meadows beyond.
�Those are the rudest--� Matilda said, sitting up in the roadway.
�We must have them arrested!� She lifted a finger into the air. She
pointed it at Al. �Al, go arrest them!� she told him.
�Me?!� Al said. His bald head gleamed in the late afternoon sun and
he hunched his shoulders. �Why do I have to go arrest them?�
�Because you�re a Man, that�s why,� Matilda said.
�Yes, but I�m a sissy too,� Al said. Glenda looked at him.
�I wouldn�t disagree with that,� Glenda said.
�Let�s just keep walking,� Wilma said.
�We�ve walked and walked and slept overnight in this damn grass and
now we�re walking again,� Matilda said. �I�ve never walked so much in my
life! Usually I just have to walk across someone�s front yard to arrest
them, or I have to walk from the parking lot of the courthouse to the
courthouse. All this walking is killing my feet.�
�Well, it�s not doing a thing for mine,� Al said. Matilda glared at
him in response.
�Maybe we�ll meet somebody nice,� Wilma said. She began walking
in the direction they�d been heading.
�I hope so!� Matilda said. �I do indeed hope so.� She followed Wilma.
�And the person had better be very, very nice, or I�ll have them arrested!�
Tommy Troll held on for dear life to the back of the eclair. It passed
beyond Peanut Province and out over the coastline. It dipped low and
glided across the waves rolling in to the beach. Suddenly, it did a barrel-
roll, through the top of a breaking wave.
�Eeeeyah!� Tommy cried. He was torn from the back of the eclair by
the force of the water. At once the eclair leapt up. It spurted a spume of
cream out of its peehole, which lifted it skyward and splattered all over
Tommy.
The troll was washed ashore by the wave. He found himself lying
faceup on the beach. He lay panting. His clothes were wet. His face was
covered with cream. As he drew in a breath a big wave came crashing in
and landed right on top of him.
�Ackck!� Tommy gasped. When he had managed to cough up all the
soda pop that had washed down his throat he sat up in the sand. Then,
quickly, he moved higher up the beach, lest he be drenched again, or
washed out to sea.
�Damn eclair,� Tommy muttered. He kicked at a seashell. It went
skittering across the sand. He hated having wet clothes. It was his job to
get other people�s clothes wet, by knocking them off his bridge when they
didn�t have a toll to pay him. �Well, at least I�m home,� Tommy said. He
gazed up at the cliffs overhead. �More or less, that is, once I�ve climbed
up these damned cliffs and done some walking. Home sweet home!� the
troll said. He rubbed his hands together. Then he looked at the sky. The
sun would be setting soon. �No matter,� he said. �I�ll walk all night if I
have to, if the moon�s out, so I don�t have to spend another night away
from home.� He felt his pockets. They were empty. He had no pretty gold
coins, which trolls love having, but which the gingermen had taken from
him after catching him turning Gumdrop Guy�s mountains into salt. �And
no more lost tolls, either,� Tommy said. �After tonight, I�ll be home, and I
dare anyone to cross my bridge without paying me a toll.� He trudged up
the beach. �Except for the gingermen, of course,� he grumbled. �They
always manage to cross without paying me, the big oafs!�
As a storm swirled outside, we huddled round the warmth of a fire
inside a room in the Fruitcake Fort. Freddie told us stories about
Candyland. We ate lots of fruitcake. Katie and I were happy. We were no
longer being tied and untied by the guards. Now they were the ones who
wore licorice bonds. They were imprisoned in a roofed stockade. I hoped
they were uncomfortable, in their bonds. I felt a little sorry for our cook,
but it couldn�t be helped, I guessed. We had a new cook now. A gingerman
who was part of the Gingerman Autonomy movement, and worked for
Freddie. He made us whatever we liked. We sipped hot chocolate. We
munched for dessert on preserved apples and snow-chilled bon bons.
�Now there�s a story,� Freddie said.
�What?� Katie asked eagerly. She tossed a bon bon in the air and
tried to catch it in her mouth. Instead, it landed between her breasts, in
her bra. �Oops,� she said. She blushed. Awkwardly she fished it out.
Then she carefully put it in her mouth and chewed it.
�Bon Bon Bibi,� Freddie said. �She�s a big, fat woman, who�s never
been able to find a husband.� He grinned and looked at Katie. �And it
doesn�t help her that she eats bon bons all day.�
�Mmm. That sounds like fun!� Katie, her mouth filled with one, said
happily.
�Yes, well, she�s had a little too much fun, I�m afraid,� Freddie said.
�North of here, down off the northern slopes of these mountains, there�s a
huge forest. Nothing but bon bon trees for miles around.�
�I didn�t know bon bons grew on trees,� I said.
�They do in Candyland,� Freddie said. �Anyway, she wanders the
forest, stuffing her mouth with bon bons all day and all night. Gumdrop
Guy told her he�d marry her if she quit eating bon bons and ate gumdrops
instead. Of course, she�s as bossy as he is, so there was no agreement
between those two. She tried to get him to eat nothing but bon bons. He
tried to get her to eat nothing but gumdrops. So they broke up, of course,
barely able to stand one another. I thought maybe she�d go for Molasses
Moe, but I guess he�s just too messy, even for her.�
Katie reached for another bon bon. I looked at her.
�Thinking of joining her?� I asked her.
�Nope. But I like them,� Katie said. She tossed another one in the
air but it landed on the floor by her hips. We were sitting on the floor, on
a soft carpet, in front of a fire, in our bikinis. Freddie sat in a large chair,
relishing being home again in his Fruitcake Fort.
�And who will you marry?� I asked, looking up at Freddie. He cast
his eyes down at me.
�I�m gay,� Freddie said.
�Gay?!� Katie asked. �What�s that?�
Freddie grinned. �It means I like Licorice Lad,� Freddie said.
�You do?� Katie asked. �I thought you were going to war against
him!�
�I am,� Freddie said. �He rejected my advances. So now I shall take
him by force!�
I felt my heart sink. Surely they could be together, if they both liked
each other. But I didn�t care for the idea of Freddie using force to bring
Licorice Lad to his bed, any more than I liked having myself be his
prisoner.
�That�s why I went and got you girls,� Freddie said, looking down at
us. �So he couldn�t have you. Hopefully he�ll think of me at night, instead
of you two. In any event, you�re free to do as you please. Would you like to
help me catch him and bring him to justice?� There was a gleam in
Freddie�s eye. I wasn�t sure I liked it.
�I don�t know,� I said. And, truly, I didn�t know what to think. I had
hoped we�d finally been freed, and found a safe place, but things seemed to
be just as topsy-turvy now as when we first found out we were in
Candyland.
�I just want to eat bon bons,� Katie replied. She tossed another one
in the air. It hit her chin. She was getting better, at least, even if she
wasn�t quite able to catch them yet.
30
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