The Importance of a Good Breakfast

10. Where they probably leave this crazy town

After the mob had disappeared down the lane, Mel had quickly crept into the stable, unsure of what she was going to find. A donkey stood at the entrance, feet planted far apart, teeth bared. Mel had never thought of a donkey as a particularly frightening animal. On the other hand, until yesterday, she had never thought of a turtle talking without the aid of radioactive goo. Fortunately, a familiar voice diffused a potentially dangerous situation. “Itsokayfrankenmuleshesa goodguyergirlerwoman.”
“Ruds!” Mel felt relief flood over her. A part of her had been certain that she would never see the amphibian again. Another part of her was annoyed that James’ had been right. A quick survey found the unconscious body of a young man who had tried to make off with the turtle. A pair of hoof prints on his back made it clear what had happened. Probably. Mel still had to ask “Ruds, did you talk this man unconscious?”
Frankenmule snickered as a hurt look settled on Ruds’ face. “ThathurtsMelimplying thatInevershutupI willhaveyouknow thatIammorethanjusta talkingmachinethat Ihaverealfeelings andnowyouvehurtthem.” With that, Ruds pulled his head inside of his shell.
Mel sighed. “Ruds, I’m sorry. It was something that James said earlier. I didn’t mean anything by it.” She looked inside of the shell, but Ruds turned his head away, refusing to meet her eye. “Does it help if I say that we probably would be dead now if it weren’t for you?”
Slowly Ruds poked his head back out of his shell. “Really?” he asked quietly.
Mel nodded. “We probably would have gone back to Gordon and he would have taken the time machine and killed us. Now we’re going to use this thing to get the better of him. Now help me figure out how to run this thing and we can find James…” Her voice trailed off when she remembered James’ plight, being chased by that mob. Hopefully his usual luck didn’t fail him now.

* * * * *

“C’mon feet, don’t fail me now.” James ran, holding his arm where one of the pitchforks had winged him, cutting a long scratch that was bleeding pretty freely now. At least the pain in his arm helped him forget the pain in his leg where a burning pitchfork had singed his leg hair. That was probably going to leave a mark. So far he had done almost two complete circles of the town, being careful to keep them away from the stable where Mel was hopefully preparing the time machine for departure, or readying a mob halting device, or making some lunch. All of this running was making him hungry. And very tired. Another pitchfork grazed his side, just tearing clothing and missing his actual skin, fortunately. “Geez, enough with the pitchforks already!” An axe thudded dully into the ground beside him. Over his shoulder, James yelped out a hurried “Thanks!” as he commanded his feet to carry him faster.
They neared the bakery and James finally had run as much as he could run. He suddenly whirled on his heel and faced the crowd. “Stop!” he yelled, holding up his hands and looking as stern as he could manage. Amazingly, the entire mob screeched to a halt, falling all over each other in an effort to stop. Dozens of eyes stared up at him with curiosity, waiting for him to continue. The fact that this had worked stunned James for a moment, but he recovered quickly.
“I know you must all have a very good reason for chasing me, and believe me, I would love to know what the reason is. However, I think it would be best for everyone if we all paused a moment for sober reflection.” He walked up the steps to stand at the top of the porch in front of the bakery. “My dear people, there is too much hate in this world. We must learn to love each other as surely as the Lord himself loved us. It is not right to take a stranger and make him feel maligned and detested. Does not the Word preach that you should, when asked to go a mile, go two miles instead. Love thy neighbour as thyself. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. And Abraham begat Isaac, Isaac begat Jacob, Jacob begat Judah and so one and so forth. Um…” At this point, James was at a loss for words. Everyone in the mob was looking downcast, though, so he felt fairly confident that he was going to be all right.
“It also says ‘an eye for an eye’, and frankly, you hurt me back there.” The voice came from the back of the mob.
“Ah crap,” said James as he ducked the flaming pitchfork sent his way. He scrambled to his feet and took off running yet again. Well, at least he had managed to get a rest for a moment. He turned a corner and ran down the side of the building, momentarily out of sight of the mob. Just then a hand reached out and pulled him into a side door. James fell to his feet, panicking, certain that he was about to die. The door closed quietly behind him, plunging him into darkness. A moment later the sound of the mob running by could be heard, but that soon faded into the distance.
Suddenly a match was struck and put to a lamp. In the glow from the small flame, James could make out his captor. “Giselle?”
The woman put a finger to her lips and listened at the door. Finally she turned and faced where he was now standing. “You must be careful,” she whispered. “They may be back at any moment.”
James nodded, still confused. “What’s going on, exactly,” he asked hesitantly.
“I could not sit by and watch them tear you limb from limb, James. I don’t know why but I feel that it is very important that you survive. All that is weird in this town can be put right by you, I just know it.” She walked past him to a door at the other end of the room. Quietly she pulled it open and looked inside. Motioning for James to follow her, she entered the next room.
Light spilled from the large front windows, revealing different goods on shelves. It appeared that the clerk for the general store was part of the mob, leaving the store completely deserted. As they reached the front door, James could see that the street was completely empty, and that it was only a short walk to the stable at the end of the street. He turned to Giselle who was standing at the door. “I don’t know how to thank you, but mmft.” His words were muffled as Giselle leaned in and gave James a kiss.
“Now hurry,” she said after they had parted. Opening the door, she pushed him out into the street.
Somehow, the street didn’t seem to be quite stable right at first. James tripped over his feet, looking back at the young woman standing in the doorway. “ ‘Hurry,’ she says after something like that. Crazy woman.” Finally regaining his balance, he made his way to the stable. Just as he made it there, the mob spied him from down the street. With a frustrated howl, they all ran towards him. Slowly he turned to face them.
“This ends here,” he said.
Once again, the mob came to a halt, a mere ten feet away from their prey. Jack (Earl) stepped forward. “You’re right,” he said gruffly. “Somehow you are the cause of all of this town’s problems, and we mean to burn you at the stake for the crime of being a witch.” A few shouts of encouragement came from the back of the mob.
“I’m a guy,” replied James. “Guys can’t be witches.”
This made Earl (Jack) pause. “Um…” Someone leaned in and whispered into his ear, giving James a hard look as he did so. “Ah yes, as my esteemed colleague has pointed out, a male witch is called a warlock. Ergo, you are a warlock.” The man leaned in again. “Or a wizard.” Earl (Jack) looked at him smugly. The other man leaned in and whispered yet again. “Or a magician.” A pause. “Or a conjurer.”
As the man leaned in yet again, James waved him off. “I think I’ve got the point. You think I’m evil, got it. Let’s move on.”
“Right.” The mob took a tentative step forward, preparing to nab James, a little disconcerted by the satisfied smile on the young man’s face.
“I’m not a magician, warlock, wizard, or conjurer,” he said as the low pitched humming sound that he had been hearing from inside of the stable rose in volume. “I’m a time traveller.” With that he turned a leapt straight up, catching the side of the wheel-less wagon that burst through the door of the stable, flying above the head of the mob. With a flash of light, it disappeared, leaving the people standing in shock.
Jimmy ran to the front of the mob and stared at them, wild with fury. “See, I told you something was wrong, but you wouldn’t believe me. I bet that monster comes to eat all of us soon.”
“Shut up Jimmy.”
A few minutes later, as the townspeople fought the fire that a few different errant flaming pitchforks had sparked, they all agreed that it was probably best to never speak of this again.
That night, a dozen cows simply disappeared. The townspeople didn’t speak of that ever again either.

Now that they’ve left, where are they going? Or, perhaps it’s just when are they going? Some of you may wonder why they are going? All of these questions will probably be neatly sidestepped in the next instalment of:
The Importance of a Good Breakfast.
Same Schlakenheisermandervorsonovichenburger time, same Schlakenheisermandervorsonovichenburger place!