Chapter One Of Finding Fenchurch - In Which There Is Much Speaking Of Spanish

Chapter One
Very Comfortable Capes And Phantoms Yes

You might ask, what is the origin of the theatre company “Very Comfortable Capes and Phantoms Yes?” You might very well ask. And you might ask Xam, who was the legal management for V.C.C.A.P.Y., better known as Vccappy, or you might ask Arktic, who handled the light board, but the only answer you’d ever get from any of them was, “What? I’m still asleep. Can you buy me a soda? No? Oh, shoo. Go ask Elymas or Geist. Better yet, ask both. Just go away.”

And then you might go to find Elymas or Geist. Or both. Who would both just sort of point at each other and say, “Their idea.”

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy has this to say on the subject of Very Comfortable Capes and Phantoms Yes Theatre.

Very Comfortable Capes And Phantoms Yes Theatre was established when the two founders, Elymas Ayeehkoor and Geist Gastheer were thirteen years old. At press time (um, update time? What are we supposed to call it when it’s over the SubEtha net? Oh, the hell with it) they are both fifteen years of age. Ms. Ayeekhoor was born on the planet Huckhockunjarv 20, to well known SubEthaTriD stars Hanri Ayeekhoor and Mira Ayeekhoor. Mr. Gastheer was born on Yelckub 33, to two mysterious and cryptic people known only as, (must be accompanied by eye roll in the native dialect of Mr. Gastheer) the Folks Upstairs.’

As to who the Very Comfortable Capes and Phantoms Yes Theatre is the brainchild of, neither Mr. Gastheer nor Ms. Ayeehkoor will say. All that is known is the following: In Ms. Ayeekhoor’s language, Very Comfortable Capes and Phantoms Yes translates to this.

“Creeply Blooburriy Muphpheens Metaphoreaslife.”

The Very Comfortable Capes and Phantoms Yes theatre covers such diverse jobs as Shakespearean theatre, classic American plays, stage magic, fist fighting, fencing, graphic design, surgery, drawing, filmmaking, crème brulee creation, debating, physics, baking, costume design, stage makeup, Broadway choreography and performance, singing, piano playing, composing, playwriting, Oscar Wilde quotes, fantasy noveling, midwifery, ear diseases of bats, and the usual action hero jumping out of planes sort of thing. Whether or not they are equipped to do these things is considered irrelevant. At least, they think so.

There is more – far, far more – but we only have so much web space at this point.

---

Elymas Ayeehkoor was sitting comfortably in a jail cell on the planet Abburidah Beta. reading a book.

Elymas Ayeekhoor was attempting very hard not to have a nervous breakdown by reading her borrowed copy of Oscar Wilde’s “The Importance of Being Earnest.”

Elymas Ayeekhoor was trying not to scream.

Elymas Ayeekhoor was about five foot seven and fifteen years of age. She had short and (at the moment) brown hair that waved in a way most unlike her personality – perky, cheerful, and feminine. She was, at the moment, wearing a white polo shirt with “Garniar 3 Penitentiary” embroidered on it in neat red letters, a gray pleated skirt, and a black blazer. She was glaring vehemently at the skirt and looked as if she were trying to kill it with her eyes. (Which, for the record, were a completely normal shade of blue.)

“Hey you!” It was a policeman. A Vogon, as she saw. Looking as ravishing as a Vogon could be expected to. “Resistance is useless! Get the hell out of that cell!”

“Ooh, a rhyme,” the young actress, flashing teeth that had obviously been filed to a point of disconcerting sharpness simply to physce people out.

The Vogon had a moment of extreme confusion. He wasn’t sure what a rhyme was, and besides, he thought only people named Lestat could have fangs. He was pretty sure that was a law. “Umm…yeah…”

“Fool, fool, back to the beginning is the rule…listen to me, Fezzik, if you value your pretty head, tell me what’s going on,” she spat, losing her temper and letting the tale of Algernon and Cecily tumble from her lap onto the ground.

“Umm…you’ve got a visitor, Ms. …uh...Ms. …”

“Please, do me a favor and don’t even make an effort to pronounce it.”

---

Geist Gastheer was sitting on a hard metal chair in the visitor’s area and toying with his Rubik’s sphere.

Geist Gastheer was worrying about Elymas, and sending his partner Arktic a message on his SubEthaPhone regarding their escape plot.

Geist Gastheer was trying not to scream.

Geist Gastheer was quite tall and sixteen years of age. He had curly, honey colored hair cropped close to his head, upon which his face resided. This may seem redundant, but when taken into consideration the fact that this is, after all, a Hitchhiker’s Guide fan fic, not too farfetched. Upon said face there was most often an expresson of irony and mild amusement. He was, at the moment, or rather, as per usual, wearing a blue and white striped polo shirt and a pair of black pants. At least, this was what was outwardly visible. We shall come to the inwardly visible bit in a moment.

“Here’s the lady.” The Vogon shoved Elymas undiscriminately into the seat across from Geist.

“Lady? ‘Ey, watch your language, Fezzik!” The girl sprawled in the chair and glared at the alien. “I am not, and never have been, a lady.”

Her friend merely cocked a skeptical eyebrow. “Fezzik?”

“Princess Bride. Damn, that was a good movie. Too bad the planet was demolished. So anyway…” The young woman began to speak in rapid Spanish, a skill she had acquired over the years. Her school back on Huckhockunjarv 20 had had a special class on Intergalactic Languages, and by a vast cosmic coincidence, so had Geist’s. Vast cosmic coincidences seemed to follow Elymas and Geist around in a way second only to the way they follow Mary Sues. Of course, Elymas and Geist’s usually had to do with the same thing happening to them both. At the same time. It was vaguely frightening. But being Elymas and Geist, they weren’t scared of much. Elymas had quite grown to like Spanish, while Geist had taken French, and detested it with all his heart and soul. Geist being Geist, he had somehow gotten a babel fish to teach him Spanish. As they are the best language teachers, he was able to quite hold his own in a conversation with Elymas, unless they had a rare disagreement, in which case he would switch to French and leave her in the dust.

“¿Así pues, cómo estamos saliendo de aquí?” Elymas demanded, looking desperately at him.

So, how are we getting out of here?

He gave a noncommital shrug and replied slowly, “Lo más rápidamente posible. Arktic dijo que usted tenía un plan.”

As fast as possible. Arktic said you had a plan.

Elymas grinned, showing all her pointed teeth. “¿Dígale más adelante, muy bien? Apenas siga mi plomo. ¿Usted tiene una espada con usted?”

Tell you later, okay? Just follow my lead. Do you have a sword with you?

“Oh, del curso. La cosa triste del The es la que es verdad.” Geist sighed deeply and gestured at his right shin, which looked oddly stiff. His partner in crime gritted her teeth.

Oh, of course. The sad thing is that that’s actually true.

“¿Para no ser grosero, pero podría usted ahora darmelo, terriblemente él?” The actress hissed through clenched teeth.

Not to be rude, but could you give it to me now, damn it?

“¿Esto puede estar un pedacito tarde a mencionar, pero usted piensa el Vogon habla español?”

This may be a bit late to mention, but do you think the Vogon speaks Spanish?

“Él mejor bien sangriento no. Es decir no pienso que él incluso habla Vogon.”

He’d bloody well better not. In other words, I don't think he even speaks Vogon.

“A five six seven eight!” Elymas suddenly hollered. Geist kicked out one long leg, and a long fencing sword issued from his pantleg. Unfortunately, it went out of control. Fortunately, it hit the Vogon between the eyes before he could do more than register dimly, “This is a slight problem with my getting those killer tickets to Cats.”

“That may not have been the most practical place to hide a sword,” Geist confessed, slipping back into English.

“Don’t knock it,” Elymas laughed, grinning at him. “It worked. Do we get to accidentally dispatch any other pieces of roadkill?”

“They’re called Vogons.”

“It’s essentially the same thing.”

“Whatever. I’m calling Arktic.”

“How will he get in?”

“Oh, darnit. Point. I hope he won’t mind taking out the roof.”

---

Arktic was already on his way. He had great faith in both Geist and Elymas – not faith that they would make things easier, or even go according to plan, or faith that they wouldn’t mess it up by speaking Spanish in front of bilingual roadkill, or even faith that they knew what they were doing. In fact, he had great faith that they had no idea what they were doing. However, they always had a perfect idea of what the other one was doing. That was why they worked together so well.

As for why Arktic worked so well with them? Well, it was mostly because he didn’t mind taking out the roof.

He had met Elymas when the two of them were only three years old. Elymas had directly gone up to him and yanked the picture book he’d been reading out of his hands. This had quickly degenerared into an all out scuffle, and if you knew Elymas, you could tell that this meant that their friendship would endure for many years.

The fifteen year old pilot and light board man narrowed his small brown eyes and licked his thin lips. This was going to be an interesting landing.

---

Smash. Everyone inside the jail visiting room was quickly shown exactly how much Arktic minded taking out the roof. Rubble clattered down and Elymas brushed it off her hair, muttering angrily. Geist remained almost disturbingly calm. That was the thing about Geist. “That’ll be Arktic,” he remarked languidly, checking his watch. “Come on, let’s go.”

A long rope dangled from the belly of the ship that had mysteriously replaced the roof it had just taken out. “Ladies first,” Geist smirked. Elymas gave him a look that would have made most people gibber and beg for mercy.

They both stared intently at the rope, both willing to other to go first. This went on for about five to ten minutes.

“Hey! You two! Get the bloody hell up here or I will kill you both.”

Geist sighed. “He’s using random italics. Maybe you should give up the Geist.” His friend raised both eyebrows. “Okay, so that was a bad joke, but at least I’m trying…”

“¿Le conduzco loco, no?” She replied.

I drive you crazy, don’t I?

Switching quickly to French for no reason other than to bug his friend, Geist said rapidly, “Particulièrement quand tu parlez espagnol.”

Particularly when you speak Spanish.

“Ninguna feria. Usted odia francés.”

Not fair. You hate French.

“J'ai mes moments.”

I have my moments.

“Lo que.”

Whatever.

Elymas tried hard to glare at him, but they both burst out laughing. She lunged at the rope and began to climb up, hand over hand. Geist grabbed the rope just below her and up they went.

Quote of the Day

"What are you doing in a bar?"

"What are you doing in jail?"

"I asked you first!"

- The Legend of Zorro

I remain, gentlemen, your faithful and obedient servant,

J.G.