Chapter 7: Peggy Sigma Zedd

[The previous chapters of this long piece of dreck may be found here.]

The rabbit jumped up, went to the door, then hesitated. He carefully slid towards the side lights so he could peak at the new arrival.

“Hah! You were right, Senator,” he said, “It is an American doe.” With that, he opened the door, and standing in the threshold was an woman, taller than the rabbit, but not by much, with shoulder-length black hair and big bag slung across her chest. She blinked at the rabbit, her mouth slightly agape. She did not look alarmed.

Other than the bag, she was wearing a pair of plain fronted olive pants, wide-strapped leather sandals, and a white blouse. She held a large phone out in front of her.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said, “I seem to have lost my way, and I can’t get any reception here.”

“What kind of calling plan do you have?” Asked the rabbit.

“Would that matter? I have AT&T”, the woman said.

“That won’t work here.”

“What would?”

“No plan that you have ever heard of.”

“How do you know that? How could you know what I have heard of?”

“Would you like to come in?” Asked Randy.

“Yes, I would, thank you. Where are we, and who are they?” she said, pointing to the three other animals sitting in the living room.

“That’s the gun club,” said Randy.

“Oh,” she said, “I’m not a fan of guns”

“Well, neither is anybody in the gun club,” said Randy.

As they moved towards the circle both Shash and the Senator stood up, so Sterling followed suit.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” said the Pig. I am Senator Chazer, member of the House of Lords and magistrate to the fire district of Mushemuguntic, that you are now in.” He bowed a bit. The woman didn’t reciprocate and made no move to extend her hand. There was a small silence. She asked, “Why does it smell like pot in here?”

The senator ignored her question. “This,” he said, “is the good bear, brother Shash, and our new friend, your comrade, Sterling the skunk.” She again made no move to shake hands.

“Why did you call him ‘my comrade’?” She asked.

The pig seemed to ignore her question. “You’ve already met our host, Randy rabbit, when you came in.” He gestured towards Randy and the woman looked at the rabbit, who smiled. “And you might be…?”

“Peggy,” she said, “Peggy Sigma Zedd… with the sigma as the Greek symbol. Not spelled out like S — I — G –M-A.”

“Of course,” said the pig. “And how did you find yourself here?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m curious.”

“Are all pigs curious?” she asked.

“Some are.” Said the pig.

“Fine. I suppose I should be wary, this being a very strange place and all, but I see no reason not to tell you.” She said. She then moved to a seat and sat down.

“I lost my way in the woods and saw a light. I followed the light through the trees and found it was the lamp outside that door.” She pointed towards the front. “Why did you have your light on, Mr. Rabbit, were you expecting more guests?”

Randy was about to answer, but just as he began, the senator continued.

“And how did you come to be lost in the woods? That’s a very strange place to find an American.”

“Is it?” Peggy asked, “Why is it strange, and why do you keep calling me an American? How do you know I am not a Canadian? What makes you so sure I’m American?”

“Forgive me,” said the pig. “We refer to all of your kind as ‘Americans.’”

“Who is ‘we’ and what are ‘my kind’? ” She asked.

“Peggy,” said the pig with a bemused smile, “Why were you in the woods?”

“I was at the Cremaster retrospective at the Guggenheim.” She said.

“What is that?” The pig asked.

“You ask a lot of questions.” Peggy said.

“What is the Cremaster retrospective at the Guggenheim?” the pig asked again.

“It’s an art show.” Peggy said.

“You were at an art show and you ended up here?”

“I was at the show and there was a Mustang that was supposed to be Gary Gilmore’s Mustang. I got in it and saw the woods outside of the other window. I thought the woods were a video installation so I got out and started walking. I kept walking. I couldn’t figure out how he did it, so I kept going, and, eventually, I ended up here. So are you part of the piece?”

“Piece of what?” asked the pig.

“The art piece,” said Peggy.

“No, certainly not. This is no art piece. Duck save us if we were in an art piece! If you want to talk about art, you would have to talk to Shash.” He pointed at the bear.

“Are you an artist?” asked Peggy.

“Well, not really,” said the Bear. “I’ve never had any formal training.”

“So you’re an outsider artist.”

The bear did not answer. The pig began speaking again, “Now, you must have followed someone into the car, did you not? Was it a man or a woman who went before you?”

“There were two guys who went in before me.”

“Were they well dressed?” Asked the pig.

“Yes,” said Peggy.

“Were they good looking?”

“Why would that matter?”

The pig furrowed his face in a disapproving aspect. His snout could convey emotion by itself, but combined with his downturned mouth, the stare of his eyes, and the movement of his ears, he was able to summon a most judgmental mien.

“Were they good looking?” he repeated.

“Yes,” said Peggy, “They were both quite beautiful.”

“Faeries,” Sterling said aloud.

“Did you just call them ‘Faeries’?” Peggy asked, “Where am I, Trumplandia?”

“I’m not being homophobic,” Sterling said. “They really must have been faeries. I followed some here too.”

“You’re the other American, right?” Peggy asked. “Why do you look like a skunk?”

“I got stoned,” Sterling said.

Peggy looked confused. “Are you still stoned?” She asked.

“Yes. No….” He thought for a bit, aware now that the only other member of his kind in this strange place probably thought he was an idiot. “Maybe not.” He couldn’t hide his confusion. He wasn’t sure how stoned he was. “That’s a very good question.” He said.

“How did you know that I followed someone here?,” Peggy asked the pig. “Was I led? How can I get back to the Guggenheim?”

“These questions you ask are difficult ones,” The pig responded, now standing up and straightening. “What song did the sirens sing to Odysseus, and what form did Achilles take when he hid among the women? These are questions the answers to which we shall never know, but they are not beyond the bounds of all conjecture.”

The room went quiet. Peggy looked at the pig. “I don’t understand,” she said.

“Neither do we.” Said the pig. “And if we are confused, then you Americans will be flummoxed. Obviously we have to find some answers. While this is not a cataclysmic event in Mushamaguntic, the arrival of two Americans is noteworthy. We must find out what this is about. Randy, you and Shash should take the boy to see Badger. I will take the Zedd girl to Mr. Mildew.”

“Take me?” Peggy asked, “What if I refuse to go?”

“Refuse? That would be both stupid and rude.” Said the pig, “We have been gracious to you. You have accepted Randy’s hospitality.”

“She ate nothing,” said Shash.

The pig looked annoyed.

“Yea, what happened to the pizza?” Sterling asked.

“When you send pigs on a food run, there is only a 20% chance the food will make it back. My guess is that they are beneath an oak tree eating my salad.” Said Randy.

“You know that is slander, Esquire.” Said the pig. He turned to Sterling. “The percentage is more like 65, maybe even seventy if they are highborn pigs.”

The rabbit shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t eat pizza,” said Peggy.

All four animals, which includes Sterling as he could now be counted as a skunk, looked at her, amazed.

“Why not?” Asked the pig.

“I don’t eat cheese,” she said.

There was a moment of quiet.

The pig, now softening his countenance, looked down at Peggy on the couch.

“We only want to help, besides,” and as he said this his expression changed. The great pig seemed suddenly bigger, stronger, and more menacing. His eyes closed slightly, becoming slits, and his smile went sour. “You wouldn’t want us to have to throw our weight around, would you?”

Shash and Randy started to laugh, and the Senator’s wicked smile softened as quickly as it had come. He began to laugh too.

“Randy, make sure you take good care of the skunk. I suspect there might be something dry and slimy about this, but that is only a suspicion. You and Shash should leave tonight. You have an almost full moon and the weather is dry.”

“Won’t Badger be preoccupied with planning for the reenactment?” Randy asked, “It’s only two days away.”

“I don’t know why your side plans so much,” said the pig. “The outcome is already decided. All Shash has to do is get ready to run.”

“Why?” Asked Randy, “I thought the ground game was the Second Battle of Bull Run. That’s the one that the Union won, didn’t it?”

“No,” said the pig, laughing. “No, they did not.”

“Shit,” said Shash.

“Peggy,” the pig said, looking down at the woman on the chair, “would you like to come with me? It is, of course, your choice. We think the best course of action would be for you to accompany myself and my companions, who are, undoubtedly, indulging in a purloined repast somewhere along the big old road. If you choose to accompany me, I will take you to see our local expert on lost Americans, a gentleman by the name of ‘Mr. Mildew’. If you prefer, however, you are welcome to stay here with these three.” He pointed at Shash, Randy, and Sterling with his hoof.

For the first time since she arrived, Peggy looked unsure of herself. She stared at her shoes, thought for a while, and then looked at Randy with a face not free of vulnerability. “What do you think I should do?” She asked.

The rabbit looked her in the eye and said very nicely, “I think you should go with the pigs, Alice.”

“Alice,” said Peggy. “Who is Alice.”

“Oh, sorry,” he said, “How embarrassing. I meant ‘Dorothy.’”

“My name is Peggy,” said Peggy.

“Oh, yes, of course,” said the Rabbit, beginning to twitch, “I meant Peggy. You should go with the pig, Peggy.” He pushed his glasses back up on his nose and let out a nerdy laugh. “How stupid of me, but let me get you a phone you can use while you’re here.”

With that, the Rabbit ran out of the room and into a deeper part of the hole. He returned quickly holding a large white phone.

“This can make calls and has lots of apps on it. It should work fine. It has my contact on it,” he said, and then he winked. “I’m sure you can figure out how to call or text me.”

The pig seemed annoyed at the delay, and started moving to the door.

“We will see you in two days if not before,” said the pig. “Get the boy to Badger and let me know what you find out.”

“Will do, chief,” said Randy.

With that, the pig escorted Peggy Sigma Zedd out of the house.

Sterling turned to see Shash using his phone.

As soon as the door closed, Randy looked at Shash and said, “Did you text her?”

“Yes,” said Shash, “I hope she reads it.”

Randy ran to the door and looked out. “She’s walking with her phone in front of her face behind Chazer. He’s leading her and talking.”

“That’s a good sign,” said Shash.

“What did you text her?” asked Sterling.

Randy turned back from his place by the door. “He texted her, ‘Don’t make promises to pigs,’” Randy said.

Next Chapter: The Dwarf