As you may recall, Seven Eleven and Kapono had been flying for some time on their magical flying Force carpet of love. Nothing much was happening, or if it was, it undoubtedly was being censored in the interests of the kindergartener mentioned in earlier chapters. In any case, the time had come for our story to continue, so let us assume that the Mountain of the Most Unpleasant Things Imaginable was drawing near.
When Kapono’s Force energy was at long last utterly spent, the magical flying carpet fell limp. Seven Eleven and the boy fell too, like blazing meteors, to earth. Luckily (or not so luckily, if you are bored of these particular characters), they landed in a conveniently located Molasses Swamp, and so escaped yet another deadly and almost certain death. Unfortunately (or fortunately, if you are a sadistic ill-wisher), they were stuck in the sticky thickness until a red card might be drawn.
By “a red card” I am of course referring to that most infamous of red cards, that devious trickster and master jewel thief, Jack of Diamonds. It just so happens that the notorious bandit was in the area, casing a potential heist that sadly proved to be a waste of time: what appeared on the map to be a diamond turned out to be merely a faerie queen’s glittery sugar crystal wand which, although crunchy and delicious, held a street value of next-to-nothing. Following this run-on sentence and disappointing discovery, Jack caught his breath and glared menacingly at Queen Frostine floating serenely in her sea of frothy sweetness. She looked back at him and giggled, apparently oblivious to the menace in his glare.
“Have ye anything of value?” he queried.
“Have I what?” the queen asked with a blank smile.
“Anything of value,” the bandit repeated.
“And he sings of valor,” the queen said, possibly in response. Jack glanced around, nonplussed. Shrugging his shoulders, he stretched his legs and as he could see no point in continuing this dialogue, and neither could he conceive of anything of value that the queen might be keeping in her sea of foaming soda, he left the Ice Cream Sea and continued on down the road toward secret certain sticky doom.
* * * * *
Kapono flicked his cigarette into the reeds. Waiting for a red card was like waiting for a Microsoft Update to download. Seven Eleven lay not far from him, watching him with a sort of soft, fuzzy gaze, and occasionally making small talk which Kapono heard, but made no response to. Arms behind his head, face toward the sky, he squinted at the warm midnight sun and exhaled loudly. “Any day now,” he muttered.
It was at this very moment, as Kapono shut his eyes and stretched with a yawn, that the Jack of Diamonds appeared over the hill and came sashaying down to the edge of the swamp. He hailed the couple cheerily, inquiring as to whether they might have any jewels or valuables on their persons, and as to whether they required any assistance in extricating their unfortunate selves from their even more unfortunate predicament. He received hearty affirmation on both counts (Seven Eleven being a quick thinker, and having identified him as a greedy jewel thief with her Acme CriminalIdentificator) and in no time, he was hauling the grateful gasping girl and boy out of the sticky sickly-sweet stuff with a handy dandy grappling-hook-and-rope he just happened to have about him.
“And where might you be going this fine day?” queried Jack.
“To the Mountain of the Most Unpleasant Things Imagina- ow!” Kapono was interrupted as Seven Eleven’s foot made contact with his shin beneath the table. Don’t trouble yourself with details.
“The Motmuti, eh?” Jack grinned slyly at Seven Eleven and cocked his head to the side. “Whatever would you be wanting to travel there for?” Kapono cocked his head to the side also, for his mind had been burning with the same question ever since the dirt-girl had dropped the cow’s Magic 8 Ball into the waves. Either that, or his neck was cramped from the carpet ride.
Seven Eleven paused a moment to evaluate the situation. Of course, it was a very brief moment, as she employed the ancient secret agent time-reduction technique believed by the public to occur only in movies (a technique obviously useful in shootout sequences, but also whenever quick thinking is called for). The Jack of Diamonds could prove a useful ally, but his willingness and subsequent loyalty was doubtful at best. How could she gain his allegiance? The midnight sun was creating rivulets of sweat that ran down her neck and under her collar. A plan formulated in her racing brain, and she spoke.
“It’s a long story—pass the sauerkraut.” Jack obligingly passed the sauerkraut, and Seven Eleven began an elaborate tale of cunning and deceit (for security reasons) which explained why they must find the Motmuti. Her masterful web ensnared the ear of her unsuspecting listener, excited his greed and his thirst for adventure, and tempted his taste for torte. When at last she ended her fabulously fabricated fib, Jack stood up from the table with a tear in his eye, a swell in his chest, and a wineglass raised in his hand.
“Such a tale! I see now that all of my wanderings and wayfarings have led me here, to this fateful day and to this unexplained luncheon table. You and your sullen friend are clearly the harbingers of my destiny, and it is become my duty and calling to aid you in your quest.” With that, Jack sat down grandly and leaned in toward Seven Eleven and Kapono with an air of earnestness. “I am the only man alive who can help you to achieve your goal. I ask no reward or thanks, but I must demand your unhesitating trust if we are to live through this adventure. What say you?”
They glanced at each other with amusement, wonderment, and peppermint. Kapono tasted his peppermint thoughtfully, and shrugged. Turning to Jack, he said, “Very well, sir. You lead, and we shall follow. You have our trust.”
“Capital! Then let us bid our host adieu, and embark upon our journey!” Jack waved a fond farewell to the table, and set off down the road. Seven Eleven and Kapono scurried behind.
As the table faded into the distance, its parting words came drifting on the night wind, “Graaaaawk! Pieces of ape, pieces of ape!”
Next Chapter:
The Plot Turns a Nice Golden Brown
Elevenses: The Daring Exploits of Agents 1111 and 711 
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