Brag
09-30-09, 10:14 AM
Birdnard swooped over Balz’s boat and asked, “See the big red rock with the tower on top?”
Skilfully, Balz moved to the side and avoided getting a direct hit by Birdnard’s bombing. “I see it, you filthy bird.”
“That’s the entrance to the harbor.”
Half hour later, Balz tied up to a stone dock that must have been two thousand years old or more. A group of Arab elders not as old as the dock came out to greet the lone navigator and his albatross.
“Salaam aleikum,” Balz said.
“Aleikum salaam,” the elders chorused back.
With only a pair of ragged shorts, Balz felt naked in front of the robed Arabs. He put on his silk smoking jacket on and stood straight like a heroic sailor. “I come in peace to trade in this wondrous bird, get some shade, coffee, a baghlah markab, a kebab, a magic carpet and learn the seven pillars of wisdom.”
“Ummmmmmmmm,” the elders chorused, “That’s a long shopping list. We go see Haji Baba Jimbuna.”
Having sailed here in a small boat, Balz thought he was a link to the past. Sur was not big, but it was old. For thousands of years it was the take off point for cargo ships going to India, Madagascar, Komoros, Mafia, Zanzibar, Mombasa, Lamu, the Somali and Red Sea ports. This was better than drinking beer in an Australian bar.
They came to a small market where Balz bought a dish-dash robe to cover his sun burnt body and a kinja dagger for his belt, a kafieh cloth for his head, He crowned it with his chicken tea cozy. He thought the dish dash made him look dashing.
A block away from the main mosque, Haji Baba Jimbuna sat in front of his emporium playing Bau against a corpulent elder. Both had their beards dyed with henna indicating they had made their pilgrimage to Mecca.
“Good morning, honorable Hajis,” Balz sat down and watched Baba Jimbuna quickly move the stones from one compartment to the next of the Bao board. The oldest game known to man, Bao was the predecessor to Backgammon.
“Ha ha ha,” Baba Jimbuna laughed, finishing the game. He turned to Balz. “Honorable infidel, what can we do for you?
“I want to buy a magic carpet.”
“A wise thing to buy. I have some nice Shiraz models guaranteed to have been made by slave child labor. Sporty Astrahans made by female slave labor. Isfahan, Chinese, Afghan, Shemiran, we have them all.”
A slave boy brought out a hookah pipe and glasses with tea.
Balz sipped the strong, sweet brew. How fast do magic carpets fly?”
“We don’t worry about such things, enjoy your tea.” Jimbuna passed the hookah pipe to Balz. “And you also want a ship?”
“Yes, a good ship, so I can deliver unexpected surprises to the British who keep expanding their empire.”
“How unexpected are your surprises?”
“My surprises come very unexpectedly. The Brits expect only the expected, the unexpected comes as a surprise to them because the don’t expect it and this surprises them. They consider unexpected surprises as unbritish.
“May Allah hear your words.” Jimbuna seemed to think for a moment. “You must go to Artur’s Camel Lot.”
“I’m not going to England.”
“Artur is around the corner.” Jimbuna pointed up the hill.
“Strange name for an Arab.”
“His full name is Artur Upyursitian, he is our local Armenian, imported by the Sultan.” Haji Jimbuna lowered his voice. “He sells information, the Camel Lot is a cover for his more interesting activities, nothing moves around the Gulfs without his knowing.”
After showing his gold, the following day, Balz was installed in a house with a walled in garden, Pomegranate and orange trees provided fruit and shade. After putting up a sign that the house was a hoochie woochie dance studio, Balz went to see the mysterious Armenian.
On the street, he wondered how come passerbys did not stop to admire him.
He stopped at the post office and wrote a on a post card:
Hi Hitler,
I hope you are out of Jail now and the postcard business is doing well. If your lungs are still bothering you, come to Oman. I could use a corporal to instill some discipline on my pirate crew.
El Balz of Arabia.
A shaved head Turkish eunuch opened the narrow door inside a twisting alley.
“I came to see your master in Italian,” Balz said.
The eunuch slammed the door on Balz’s foot.
“Ay, yay, yay,” Balz screamed in pain.
“That was Spanish,” the eunoch said.
After three deep breaths Balz thought he could still dance the hoochie woochie. “That was my old foot in the door trick. I insist on seeing your master.”
The eunuch shrugged and led the way into what Balz guessed was an Arab house. “Master, this man with a chicken on his head wants to show you a foot in the door trick.”
A man with a thin, trimmed moustache, white linen suit, Eton school tie and curly black hair sticking out of a Panama hat and a parrot on his shoulder stood in the middle of a large salon.
“A trickster with a chicken on his head, ha, ha, ha,” the parrot said.
“I have a big bird, much bigger than you, who will bury you in sheisse. You have a very unexpected surprise coming, You dirty bird.”
“Ha,” The man in the Panama hat said. “The unexpected surprise, is yours, this parrot can’t speak. I’ve pulled his tongue out some time ago. I am a ventriloquist. I can take care of any bird you send me.”
“Excellent,” Balz smiled, trying to look malevolent.
“He, he, he. More unexpected surprises await you. You have come to my house of doom.”
The man pulled out a Luger pistol and aimed it at Balz.
http://img87.imageshack.us/img87/9053/dancewithpiratevi9.gif
Skilfully, Balz moved to the side and avoided getting a direct hit by Birdnard’s bombing. “I see it, you filthy bird.”
“That’s the entrance to the harbor.”
Half hour later, Balz tied up to a stone dock that must have been two thousand years old or more. A group of Arab elders not as old as the dock came out to greet the lone navigator and his albatross.
“Salaam aleikum,” Balz said.
“Aleikum salaam,” the elders chorused back.
With only a pair of ragged shorts, Balz felt naked in front of the robed Arabs. He put on his silk smoking jacket on and stood straight like a heroic sailor. “I come in peace to trade in this wondrous bird, get some shade, coffee, a baghlah markab, a kebab, a magic carpet and learn the seven pillars of wisdom.”
“Ummmmmmmmm,” the elders chorused, “That’s a long shopping list. We go see Haji Baba Jimbuna.”
Having sailed here in a small boat, Balz thought he was a link to the past. Sur was not big, but it was old. For thousands of years it was the take off point for cargo ships going to India, Madagascar, Komoros, Mafia, Zanzibar, Mombasa, Lamu, the Somali and Red Sea ports. This was better than drinking beer in an Australian bar.
They came to a small market where Balz bought a dish-dash robe to cover his sun burnt body and a kinja dagger for his belt, a kafieh cloth for his head, He crowned it with his chicken tea cozy. He thought the dish dash made him look dashing.
A block away from the main mosque, Haji Baba Jimbuna sat in front of his emporium playing Bau against a corpulent elder. Both had their beards dyed with henna indicating they had made their pilgrimage to Mecca.
“Good morning, honorable Hajis,” Balz sat down and watched Baba Jimbuna quickly move the stones from one compartment to the next of the Bao board. The oldest game known to man, Bao was the predecessor to Backgammon.
“Ha ha ha,” Baba Jimbuna laughed, finishing the game. He turned to Balz. “Honorable infidel, what can we do for you?
“I want to buy a magic carpet.”
“A wise thing to buy. I have some nice Shiraz models guaranteed to have been made by slave child labor. Sporty Astrahans made by female slave labor. Isfahan, Chinese, Afghan, Shemiran, we have them all.”
A slave boy brought out a hookah pipe and glasses with tea.
Balz sipped the strong, sweet brew. How fast do magic carpets fly?”
“We don’t worry about such things, enjoy your tea.” Jimbuna passed the hookah pipe to Balz. “And you also want a ship?”
“Yes, a good ship, so I can deliver unexpected surprises to the British who keep expanding their empire.”
“How unexpected are your surprises?”
“My surprises come very unexpectedly. The Brits expect only the expected, the unexpected comes as a surprise to them because the don’t expect it and this surprises them. They consider unexpected surprises as unbritish.
“May Allah hear your words.” Jimbuna seemed to think for a moment. “You must go to Artur’s Camel Lot.”
“I’m not going to England.”
“Artur is around the corner.” Jimbuna pointed up the hill.
“Strange name for an Arab.”
“His full name is Artur Upyursitian, he is our local Armenian, imported by the Sultan.” Haji Jimbuna lowered his voice. “He sells information, the Camel Lot is a cover for his more interesting activities, nothing moves around the Gulfs without his knowing.”
After showing his gold, the following day, Balz was installed in a house with a walled in garden, Pomegranate and orange trees provided fruit and shade. After putting up a sign that the house was a hoochie woochie dance studio, Balz went to see the mysterious Armenian.
On the street, he wondered how come passerbys did not stop to admire him.
He stopped at the post office and wrote a on a post card:
Hi Hitler,
I hope you are out of Jail now and the postcard business is doing well. If your lungs are still bothering you, come to Oman. I could use a corporal to instill some discipline on my pirate crew.
El Balz of Arabia.
A shaved head Turkish eunuch opened the narrow door inside a twisting alley.
“I came to see your master in Italian,” Balz said.
The eunuch slammed the door on Balz’s foot.
“Ay, yay, yay,” Balz screamed in pain.
“That was Spanish,” the eunoch said.
After three deep breaths Balz thought he could still dance the hoochie woochie. “That was my old foot in the door trick. I insist on seeing your master.”
The eunuch shrugged and led the way into what Balz guessed was an Arab house. “Master, this man with a chicken on his head wants to show you a foot in the door trick.”
A man with a thin, trimmed moustache, white linen suit, Eton school tie and curly black hair sticking out of a Panama hat and a parrot on his shoulder stood in the middle of a large salon.
“A trickster with a chicken on his head, ha, ha, ha,” the parrot said.
“I have a big bird, much bigger than you, who will bury you in sheisse. You have a very unexpected surprise coming, You dirty bird.”
“Ha,” The man in the Panama hat said. “The unexpected surprise, is yours, this parrot can’t speak. I’ve pulled his tongue out some time ago. I am a ventriloquist. I can take care of any bird you send me.”
“Excellent,” Balz smiled, trying to look malevolent.
“He, he, he. More unexpected surprises await you. You have come to my house of doom.”
The man pulled out a Luger pistol and aimed it at Balz.
http://img87.imageshack.us/img87/9053/dancewithpiratevi9.gif