The Importance of a Good Breakfast

9. Good thing mobs have lousy aim

The lives of tumbleweeds are not oft examined. To the casual observer, it would seem that all there is to their lives is tumbling around in the wind, but there is much more to it than that. For instance, young tumbleweeds often have the problem of extreme dizziness as they adjust to the life of tumbling that they have chosen. Also, timing is important. Tumbleweeds have to be able to catch a stray breeze and come across the scene in the tense moment before an important event, when there is silence. Or, at times when a loud, raucous response is expected, they have to team up with a cricket for the combination of cricket in silence followed by a lone tumbleweed swirling across the scene. And then there’s the travel from town to town, which is just torture to a young tumbleweed family. Plus, vacations are pretty boring. When it’s time for a vacation, tumbleweeds deliberately ignore all enticing breezes and stay firmly in one spot, because they are taking a break from tumbling. A few fly (and you should see the profiling that goes on in airport security when you’re a tumbleweed!), but tumbleweed rates aren’t that great, and it’s so hard to get air miles in the desert.
A lone, small tumbleweed worked its way erratically down the dirt road through the middle of town, catching the eye of a young woman standing on the porch in front of the local bakery. Briefly she wondered if something bad was about to happen, but discarded the notion as absurd. Fortunately for her she was correct, because this was a young tumbleweed, merely practicing technique. About ten minutes later, she would miss the tumbleweed signalling trouble. Looking around, she stepped down to the street, straining her eyes in the direction of the stable, hoping to see James come walking down the street. When the finger came down lightly on her shoulder she whirled around with near-blinding speed, swinging for the fences, as they say.
James picked himself up off of the ground, rubbing his face where Mel’s fist had connected solidly. Ever since he had become a time traveller, he had spent more time getting beat upon than he cared to think about.
On the outskirts of town, a tumbleweed sensed her cue.
“Oh my gosh!” Mel was horrified at what she had done. Well, at least a little horrified. Most of her thought it was pretty funny. She reached down and helped James to his feet. Once he was standing and it looked like he was okay, she started to really chew him out. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting here all morning, ready to tell you what has been going on around here before we got here. I can’t believe you would dilly-dally today of all days. Do you realise how important this is? And that I’ve lost Ruds again? This entire town seems to be a loony bin waiting for white coats, with strange things showing up in creepy places. And where did that blasted turtle go? Why don’t you answer me? Plus the baker’s wife really doesn’t like me and she served me some bad bacon and I don’t feel so good.” The only reason she stopped talking at this point was because she ran out of breath.
James leapt into the conversation while he had a chance. “Relax Mel, everything’s going to be fine. I left the stable and headed out of town to get some info, and couldn’t get away until now. Someone mentioned that there have been some weird things in this town, and I’m inclined to agree. I’m mean, we’re here, aren’t we? Anyway, I came back as fast as I could without raising suspicion. This is too important for to get caught because we are hasty.
It would seem that Ruds, whom you say you’ve lost again, was right about the time machine. A wagon mysteriously appeared a few days ago, and that is probably the form that it would take if it was camouflaged, which is what Ruds said that it was.
“As for losing the turtle, I wouldn’t worry about it. My guess is that he simply headed to the wagon to try and protect it. Now, sit down for a moment and take a big breath. You look a little ill.” He helped Mel sit on the step and then stood by, trying to decide what the best course of action would be.
“Protect…?” The question was spoken under her breath as she pondered all that James had said. Finally she could not stand it any longer. “How in the world is a turtle supposed to protect a time machine?”
A shrug. “He could talk them to death.”
Mel smiled at the image, and the truth in that statement. In anything was going to talk someone to death, it was Ruds. Shakily she rose to her feet. “I suppose we should go save the little gabber.” As she walked, her steps became more sure. The pain that had been in her gut was fading quickly. The pain in her neck walked a few steps behind her.
A cacophony of voices reached their ears at the same moment. Thinking quickly, James pulled Mel around the side of a building and they worked their way to the back of the building and crouched at the corner which afforded them a view of the stable. A mob had gathered in front of the stable and was milling about in some confusion. Shouts of “Let’s get them”, “They’re going to pay”, and “When’s lunch” pierced the air. James was excited. An actual mob, and he was seeing it.
“I’ve always wanted to be part of a mob,” he whispered excitedly to Mel.
“Are you crazy?” she hissed. “Mobs are dangerous. Look! That guy has a pitchfork and a torch! And now…he has set the pitchfork…on fire.” With a screech the man threw the pitchfork away from him and the flames were quickly smothered by others in the group. Mel sighed. This place was so weird.
With a gleam in his eye, James rose to his full height. “I’m going to join them.” He could not contain the excitement in his voice. Reckless abandon called him, compelling him to join the huddled mass. “This will be fun.”
As goofy as he was, James was also a very stubborn man, and Mel knew that there was no talking him into changing his mind. “Just be careful,” she whispered, resolving to stay where she was. “This just doesn’t feel right to me. Something is wrong, but I don’t know what.”
As he stepped out of the shade of the building, James spoke over his shoulder. “Quit worrying. It’s going to be fine.”
Three things happened. First, the leader of the mob turned around, causing James’ blood to run cold. It was Earl (Jack), and he did not look happy. Second, the entire mob grew silent and stared hard at James, causing his blood to run cold…er. Thirdly, a tumbleweed rolled through town, right on cue, and completely ignored.
James swallowed, shivering due to his cold blood. “Um…hi?”
“GET HIM!!” The mob surged forward (in the back of his mind, James was interested. He had never seen a crowd surge before), screaming with bloody rage, their eyes wide with fury.
James considered his options. While he considered, his feet chickened out, and he found himself running down the back lane, purposefully ignoring the girly screaming that was coming from his mouth. Good idea feet, he thought as he ran. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed that he was losing them. With a sigh, he slowed down just a little bit, but enough that the mob redoubled its efforts to catch him, sensing blood. Hopefully they would concentrate on him and ignore the fact that Mel was currently elsewhere. It wasn’t much fun, he decided, being the fox during hunting season. Well, at least there was no situation so dire that it couldn’t be improved by a few well placed taunts and jibes. Turning on his heels, he ran backwards, yelling at those chasing him. “You call that a mob? I’ve seen better mobs in cemeteries. My grandmother’s could chase down miscreants faster than this, and both of them don’t have their own hips anymore.” The mob grew wilder with each taunt, their ability to reason fading to nil.
Jack (Earl), however, seemed to be keeping his head, at least more than the others. James could tell that something was bothering the farmhand, and he could guess what that thing was. Perhaps a few specific taunts would get his mind off of the missing girl and focussed on him fully. “Hey Earl (Jack),” he yelled, turning to sprint further ahead. “I hear that the last mob you led got lost. Your mother telegrammed me last night and said you were adopted. And ugly.” That last comment did the trick. An evil glint entered Jack’s (Earl’s) eye. With a scream of rage, he threw his pitchfork at James as hard as he could. James’ dove out of the way and came up running as a more pitchforks started falling around him. This probably wasn’t good.
He dashed up a hill, and slowed as he ran down the other side, as did the mob behind him. They all watched as a cow in a tutu worked her way through some complicated tai chi moves. Sensing the presence of the people, the cow suddenly froze, staring as everyone ran by. “Moo?” was the only sound that it made before dashing away.
Wisely, everyone decided it was best to ignore this.
“I sure hope Mel is faring better than I am,” muttered James as he ran. Every day that he missed his Cheerios ended up badly for him. As he dodged another pitchfork, this one on fire, he sighed. Just another day in the life of a time travelling saver of the universe.

Will Ruds be all right? How many pitchforks can one mob carry? Why do I never seem to answer any questions? How is Mel faring? Join us and find out in the next instalment of:
The Importance of a Good Breakfast.
Same Schlakenheisermandervorsonovichenburger time, same Schlakenheisermandervorsonovichenburger place!