joegoda | BagsNPockets... Introductions

"You know what I want?" Pockets asked.

"What's that, Pockets?" Grizelda replied.

"I want icecream. I want chocolate ripple fudge marshmallow icecream, two scoops, waffle cone. That's what I want."

"That's good, Pockets."

It wasn't exactly wandering the desert. They weren't exactly lost. There was a general idea of 'that way', and the smell of woodsmoke in the air. As Pocket would say, "Where there's smoke, there's folk, and where there's folk, there's things to be done, cash to be made and... and... other stuff"

It was a good thing it was a small desert.

"You know what I want?" Pockets asked.

"What's that, Pockets?" Grizelda replied.

Pockets was sitting astride one of the mares pulling the wagon. He was dressed in simple pants which he stitched together and a leather vest. His chest hair peeked out shyly, grey wisps hinting at his true age, which no one, not even he, himself, knew. He wore high topped boots on his feet because he believed there would be scorpions every where if he didn't

"I want a big old anvil so I can test a theory. Or is a hypothisis? Anyways, I want to find a blacksmith in that town we're about to come across, and I want to use his big old anvil to see if my crystal will generate light." He twirled one of his crystals between his fingers, watching the light flicker in and out of it's facets.

"That's good, Pockets." Grizelda looked over at Bags, and winked one of her olive shaped hazel eyes. Bags just shrugged. It was the custom for Pockets to ride up front, leaving the two lovers to sit side by side driving the team in the direction that Grizelda picked out from who knows where. She was a healty gal, big boned, but definitely on the attractive side of big boned. Her brown hair, always worn long, was tied away from her oval and always smiling face with a multicolored bandana.

"Bags," Grizelda started. "I was thinking, when we get to the city, let's try to get Pockets hooked up with someone. Surely there is some woman there that will interest him."

Bags was quiet for a long time, looking forward to where Pockets rode. His long face didn't show a lot of emotion, and his shock of red hair was as unruly as ever, flowing up where it should lay down, laying down where it might fluff up. Bags was not a big talker, he generally left that for Pockets to do. What he did do was think, and run interferance for whatever trouble Pockets would get into. His ever present, never full bag rode at his side, it's plain brown offsetting the colorful plaid shirt he was wearing. He reached into the bag, rummaged around a bit, and brought out a long peice of jerky, which he broke in half and offered the longer to Grizelda.

"Pockets? You want some jerky?" he called out.

"Nope, it'll ruin my appetite for the icecream. But thanks anyway. I'm up here discussing if light moves in waves or in particles with Bel." Bel was the mare he was riding.

"You realize that I have no idea what you just said, don't you?"

"That's ok, Bags. Bel doesn't either." and he went back to his discussion.

Bags turned to Grizelda and said "We can try, but I have a feeling that unless she's pretty darn smart, at least nearly as smart as Pockets, or unless she's as dumb as Bel, it's not going to go very far. Pockets is in a class all by himself."

"That's the truth." Grizelda replied. "You know, as long as I've known you two, I would have to say that Pockets is one of the biggest puzzles and you are one of the least. Doesn't mean that there are times I don't understand you either, but Pockets... sometimes he's just weird."

Bags nodded and said "Yep. But then, dear, we're all kinda weird, you know. Me, I've been all over, studied all sorts of military arts, and I'd have to say there isn't anyone I couldn't beat in a fair fight. Faster reflexes, sharper mind, all that stuff. And yet, I'm a pacifist, and I'd rather run than fight. I've got knowledge from eight centuries back, could build a siege engine with my eyes closed. Military Pacifist, a basic oxymoron. Weird? Depends on who you are.

"You, on the other hand. Flirtatious, darn sexy, mother, sister to all you see, could have anyone, yet you picked me. A bit psychic, or so Pockets says. Able to find a city blindfolded in the dark of night, able to find me no matter where I am. Strikes me as being a bit weird.

"Now Pockets, mad genius, who would rather spend time figuring out the best way to separate sunlight from night than snuggling up to the prettiest woman in the pub. Constant source of trouble because he has no filter between brain and mouth. Inventor, philosopher, fixer of things that are broken. Weird indeed. I can't tell if we'd would be lost without him, or if he would be lost without us. He says it's something called 'Indivisible Soul agreements'. I don't know if he's right bout that, but I will say that had he been anyone else, I'd have dropped him in the dust long ago."

"What I figure is that we're all stuck with each other, and pretty much, we're gonna be this way till it all falls down around our ears. But it will be our ears, and we either stand together, or we fall apart. Of course, I could be wrong."

"Hey Griz!" came a yell from up front. "Bel wants to know how much further to this city of yours!"

Grizelda closed her eyes, licked one finger and tested the wind. Then she opened her eyes, unfocused them, and stared at the palm of her right hand, as if reading a map. She sniffed the wind and then said, "See that palm tree up ahead? I figure it's just bout a mile or so from there, straight line."

"Ok doke!" cried Pockets. "Hear that Bel? Just bout a mile or so and then it's chocolate and marshmallows for ME!"

Grizelda just looked at Bags and whispered, "Sometimes it's like taking care of a grown up 8 year old."

Bags just smiled back and said "Yep. Ain't it cool?"