Veranda Incognita, Home of the Waverlys

[Malaclypse 666]

Reggie was still fifty meters from the Veranda when the aroma first accosted his nose. Now that this years crop of Kallisti Gold had been harvested, cured, and packaged; there was room on the breeze for other scents and smells. A picture developed in his mind as he approached the building. Cinnamon, baked apple, and a still warm, yeasty smell of the oven.

Reggie thought of Malaclypse, and the pie-throwing days of the Erisian Liberation Front, back when he had first received the Calling to balance the Chao. He thought of their own Laughing Goddess Bakeries, which actually did bake pies occasionally. And, he thought of younger days.

Tomorrow was indeed a milestone for Reggie. In his various lines of work, longevity had never been a part of the benefits package, while apparently luck had been. Reggie had firmly believed for most of his life that luck was on his side. It wasnt until just a few years ago, when Reggie had learned of Discordianism and one of its underlying precepts, Synchronicity, that he had acknowledged its power over his life; and conversely, the inherent power he seemed to possess to somehow attract, observe, and harness coincidence to his own benefit.

Meeting Mal. Entertaining his wild scheme to grow a psychoactive weed here on Gran Canaria, for religious uses. Becoming the financial muscle of an ancient Terran Goddess and Religion. Attempting and succeeding in moving an entire planet across space; not for its intended purpose as a home for Erisians, but to stop an agenda which threatened his friends and his home. Coincidences all, but vitally important coincidences.

And, just when needed, just when the balance of the Chao threatened to spin into Chaos, the incredible synchronicity of meeting Fiona H. DeLuna. The Ambassador was a well-connected scion of Order in what passed for the Kusari government. She had found in Reggie a sympathetic ear for her dreams of a peaceful Sirius, as well as an ally when her past came back with a vengeance in the form of Dr. Artifice, her grandfather in a sense.

Reggies musing ceased as he mounted the four broad oaken steps to the Veranda. The delicious aroma was almost overpowering. If that was not his very own mothers recipe for apple pie, then she was owed some serious royalties.

The pie was huge, over half a meter. It sat in a tin that seemed somewhat irregular, as if somehow a large pie tin had been stretched to accommodate this monster. Now, which of their recent guests would be capable of that. Reggie smiled hugely when the answer became apparent. Next to the pie sat a folded note, and on the note was a small paw print almost perfectly rendered in dark cinnamon dust.

Reggies eyes grew large as he read the first part of the note. It seemed that Madam deLuna had been given a surprise gift by Fnordie, with Ricks assistance and transport.

And Reggies supposed he could somehow forgive Fnordie for reading his mind. No one knew tomorrows significance. Reggie was a very private individual when it came to such things. And he had been a bit withdrawn after the rescue from Dr. As clutches. Perhaps waiting to see if that bloody Appendix Gimmel would fall from Mals shelf again; or awaiting a coincidence of some kind to give him direction

Well, here he had it. He remembered that new caf? in town, and the interesting folk who had begun to inhabit the place. Tomorrow, this very pie, along with a kilo of the plantations darkest, most aromatic coffee beans, would accompany him for a morning at the Canaria Caf?.

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