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The Waiting Room

~ Chapter Twenty-Eight


FIRE!


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Sparrow continued to look at the website address that Sam had given him, casually leaning an elbow onto the counter, as he pondered his next move.

Jessi_Mexicali_Dishes.com

Aye, Jessi, I remember ye, me spicy girl. He fondly recalled the many times he made his way down to the ship’s galley to find her in the heat of the kitchen, making those wonderful hot and spiced dishes…looking so saucy herself…letting him taste from her spoon the fantastic dish she had made for the day…the flavors…the spices…her…it always made him feel like he was on…

“FIRE!” screamed Sam.

“Uh?” Sparrow jerked back to reality. In an instant he saw Sam carrying a pot of water from the sink, running towards him. The pirate looked down to see that his billowing shirt sleeve had touched the flame of the gas stove and was now burning the material.

“Bloody ‘ell” he shouted, waving his arm in his attempt to extinguish the flame.

From the corner of his eye he saw Sam take position to toss the water at him.

“No! Wait ye whelp! Do not throw…”

But it was too late. Sam heaved the water from the pot, drenching the Captain from head to foot.

“...the water.” Sparrow finished, as he stood there dripping. He gave Sam an evil eye.

The sound of applause came from the doorway. Both Sam and Sparrow turned to see Ed Wood standing, clapping, smiling like a banshee.

“Fantastic! Great! Couldn’t have directed a better scene!” He shouted.

“What a great bunch of guys you are today. You all know how to make a director feel special. Out there we have scenes from King Kong…in here…the classic clip of Dorothy throwing the water on the Wicked Witch of the West…swell…just swell I tell you…but you know Captain…next time don’t forget your line…you know the one?”

Wood put his hands up near his face and started to wiggle downward towards the floor.

“I’m melting, I’m melting…that just seals the scene.”

Sam glanced at the pirate and saw that his anger had transferred to Wood. He best try to diffuse the situation quickly.

“Can I help you Mr. Wood?” he asked, handing the wet pirate a hand towel. Jack pushed Sam’s hand aside and strode towards the door, his boots squishing on the kitchen floor. “I’ll be back to talk to ye!” he promised Sam as he let himself out.

Wood had stepped aside to give the wet and angry Captain leeway. As the kitchen door swung close he turned back to Sam.

“To answer you question my fine young man, it is not I who requires help, but the men out there. They’re getting a bit grumpy. Erh, more like an angry mob, waiting for lunch. Agent Sands claims to have requested a second helping but I guess that message got lost on the way.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Sam said as he ladled portions of the pork dish into bowls. Sam had given thought to Sparrow. He knew he would be asking him how he had gotten to Mort’s computer and most likely would be asking to help him too. He was a thought ahead of the pirate, he prided himself.

With his back to Wood, blocking the director’s view, he withdrew a small package, opened it and dumped the contents into one of the bowls, the blue one with the yellow stripe. He whisked the powder quickly until all tell tale signs had disappeared. He then placed in on the push cart among the other colorful bowls and gave Wood a small, quiet smile.

“Lunch is served Mr. Wood. Could you get the door?”



 

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