Fill-In-The-Blank Game!

The hours passed by and the stitching was almost complete. Mr H entered the mess hall walking up to the noble Captain and interrupted his hand of Uno against the dubious duo.

'Capitan, I am pleased to announce that the pasta monster has fled'.

Doctor Sphinx sneered to himself. The pretty-faced cowboy couldn't even remember the monsters name.

'How delightful! Mr H, could you possibly fill in for me for the rest of the game?' Asked Sam91 rather prettily herself, giggling inwardly at lumbering the Doctor with that lump which sorely tested his patience.

Sam 91 went to break the news to @joyshirley while trying to think of other uses for the almost finished yarmulke.

'I declare that you cheated' said the barely-tolerable-except-for-his-chivalry cowboy standing up.

'I declare thou a foppish fool' imitated the usually-more-mature-Doctor immaturely.

'I declare you both out of line' said the captain with an air of superiority and calm. 'Sit down at once or face disciplinary scrubbing.

The Sphinx sat down at once but the newcomer hadn't learned yet. 'I challenge you to a dual' The cowboy continued.

'Sam91, please escort Mr H to the poopdeck!' The captain ordered.

The Sphinx smiled smugly...

as he called out 'I've got this one, Sam91!' and proceeded to show the cowboy the way.

'So this here is the poop-deck,' explained Doctor Sphinx to the cowboy. 'This is where the... uh... less reputable members of the crew come to take a load-off... so to speak,' explained the Doctor.

The cowboy's eyes were shining with enthusiasm. 'What a great idea! We had a similar problem back home,' he explained to the bewildered Doctor. 'Cowboys spitting everywhere. Until we developed the spittoon. Then, everyone could spit into a common location, without endangering another's clothes, or meal, or new hair-style...'

'Uh, whatever,' answered the doctor disgustedly. 'Whatever happened in the Wild West stays in the Wild West, I guess. Anyhoo, the Captain says you've got to swab this deck, until it's so shiny, he can see his face in it.'

'Look! I think I see the Captain's face already!' exclaimed the cowboy excitedly.

'Uh, no, Mr H. That,' the Doctor paused, to emphasise the word "that", 'is exactly what the Captain wants you to clean up.'

The Doctor handed the bizarre cowboy a mop, kicked him a scrubbing brush that was lying within reach of his foot, and nodded to a bucket nearby, before turning around to return to his Uno game.

'Doctor Sphinx?' called the cowboy.

Doctor Sphinx inwardly rolled his eyes, and turned once more to the cowboy. 'Yes, Mr H?' he asked wearily.

'Sam91?' asked the cowboy.

'Yes?' replied the Doctor again.

'Is she normal?'

'Well, of course she's not normal. Do you think the great and mighty Doctor Sphinx would befriend a "normal" ex-taxidermist-cum-surgeon?' the Doctor answered.

'Oh, I meant, her description of you was so terrible, and I thought I must bust that horrible character on the nose, but now that I've finally met you, you've been ever so nice to me,' the cowboy gushed.

The Doctor gave the cowboy a puzzled frown.

'I mean, the other night, you let me taste your limited edition Caribbean Rum - although I didn't know it was Caribbean Rum at the time - which only the Pharaohs knew the secret recipe to, then you helped to convert that horrible spaghetti thing to Judy Isom so she could later save me from drowning, and today, you're teaching me your life's work. I just was wondering... Did Sam91 lie about you?'

The Doctor was having difficulty expressing in words what he thought about the cowboy's question, so he just turned back around, and proceeded to his Uno game, all the while, the pulleys and gears in his ancient brain system clunking and whirring, to analyse what profit he could make from this new development.

Sam91 wondered why the Sphinx was now going by her name but shrugged, glad to not needing to make a trip to the dreaded poopdeck.

The good and noble Sphinx was shocked to read Sam91's thought, as he came back to the game of Uno.

'Was not the intolerable-and-infuriating Mr H not currying favour with the crew members by rushing about doing their chores for them?' he thought to himself.

'Am I also not deserving of the preference and favour of other crew members, not-the-least of which is my esteemed, brave, although somewhat scheming conscience?' he noted sadly.

He sat down to the game of Uno, where he doubled his cheating efforts as a means of retribution, quickly winning the game.

Sam91 looked at the good doc and realised that he looked a little morose.

'Hey doctor, would you like me to at least try to smooth the area around your nose?'

The doctor, although still a trifle unhappy at the recent insubordinate thought of his conscience, did dearly want to look more aesthetically pleasing, and less like the hindquarters of a bulldog.

He nodded humbly. 'Yes, please, Sam91.'

Sam91 stood squeezed his right shoulder reassurungly and disappear to collect her surgical things and her yarmulke-of-extremely-painful-but-spritually-beneficial-surgery.

She wasn't long in returning.

She held aloft the chloroform and asked the doctor his preference. He opted to stay awake for the procedure in order to give advice to his apprentice.

He handed her the Carribean rum to extra sterilise her scalpel-of-truth and reclined hopeful.

'Yikes!' exclaimed Doctor Sphinx in surprise, as he noted the yarmulke his surgeon was wearing. 'Are you sure you require the yarmulke-of-extremely-painful-but-spiritually-beneficial-surgery? Isn't the best surgery the kind that you don't even realise you've had?'

Well, which yarmulke would you prefer? 'The-yarmulke-of-dexterity-for-the-sinastra? Please correct me if I have named it incorrectly?'

The doctor shuddered all of a sudden. 'I'm not sure, Sam91. Is the yarmulke of dexterity-for-the-sinistra really suitable for use when performing delicate nose surgery?'

Sam91 looked at the doctor, somewhat more suspiciously. Here was more of that softness she'd noted, since he'd spent time with the philistines in Narnia. Perhaps, she thought to herself, she could take this opportunity to review some of his memories, to determine what disease he'd happened to catch from those uncivilised folk...

But decided to concentrate on the mission at hand. She decided to dispense with the former yarmulke and wear the one giving her immense dexterity instead. She placed atop the Sphinx's head a hitherto unexperienced yarmulke-of-healing-and-confidence-in-the-skills-of-the-supposedly-brainless-sex.

She started to peel away the bumps of scar tissue and removed the splinters of the failed prosthetic. She was amazed at the powers of the new yarmulke. The skin she peeled away, remarkably got replaced by skin as pure as a baby's.

The surgery seemed to pass quite quickly due to the newfound confidence preventing the Sphinx from interjecting with speech. He remained completely still, even without any pain-relief. The only obstruction were the tears which the pain caused needing wiped away more frequently that the blood. Sam91 was mightily impressed at the sphinx's capacity for pain and how he could keep from screwing up his facial muscles.

The surgery was complete. The Sphinx looked as good as new. Sam91 critically evaulated her work-womanship and found that the yarmulke had infact generated new bone and cartilage. The Sphinx had finally gotten a real nose, albeit a rather small one. It wasn't too tiny to look strange, it just wasn't big enough to look manly and strong.

Alas, he was much less ruggedly handsome. But at least he could probably smell.

The Sphinx reading Samantha's mind paled as he thought of the poop-deck.

Speaking of smelling, who should enter the makeshift operating theatre at that very moment but the handsome-although-pretty-boy-faced cowboy. Doctor Sphinx, now with a fully-functional-albeit-somewhat-effeminate-looking nose, could immediately determine the chap had been working hard on the poop-deck.

'Sam91!' exclaimed the cowboy enthusiastically. 'Doctor Sphinx! I've cleaned the poop-deck so well, and now I can see the Captain's face in it.'

Sam91 looked at Doctor Sphinx, and Doctor Sphinx looked back at the surgeon. Something was wrong, if the cowboy could literally see DavidFirth's face in the poopdeck.

'Are you sure it's not just another... errr... randomly shaped deposit that somehow just looks like the Captain?' asked Doctor Sphinx sternly.

'No, no! I've been scrubbing really hard, and now I can really see the Captain's face!' explained the cowboy. 'Although...' he added hesitantly. 'He doesn't look very happy.'

The doctor examined Sam91's work-womanship in a hand-mirror as they hurriedly ascended the stairs to the poop-deck to determine what new disaster the newcomer had created. 'Well, aside from my nose being too small, I do say you did an excellent job, Sam91' said Doctor Sphinx. 'I can't see a single stitch or scar.'

'I thought you'd be pleased', smiled Sam91. 'And you know what they say about noses and manliness.'

'Oh, uhhh, no, I don't,' muttered Doctor Sphinx worriedly. 'What do they say about noses and manliness?'

'Well', explained the surgeon, 'it's not the size of the nose that matters, but the cuteness thereof, that determines how much of a man one's not. And your nose is very cute, now,' she complimented.

Doctor Sphinx froze in horror midflight. He would be the laughing-stock of the entire Egyptian 3rd dynasty if it now came out that he wasn't manly at all, due to the cuteness of his new nose.

He determined to ask the intolerable Mr H to break it up a little after he had bathed. A broken nose was definitely preferable to both a cute nose and a missing one.

His problem solved, his mind returned to the captain. 'Faster' he called to Sam91 and dragged her by her sleeve to make her speed up.

However, Sam91 read the thought, and was insulted.

'Doctor Sphinx!' she exclaimed indignantly. 'Are you not satisfied with the new nose I gave you? It's extremely cute, and as even you acknowledge, does not have a single stitch mark or scar. If you have Mr H do any more damage to it, I positively will not help you.'

The good doctor looked guiltily to the ground. 'Well, Sam91, I do like the nose, I really do. And it really smells. Well, actually, it's Mr H that really smells, but the nose knows it.'

'So then why were you thinking about breaking it?' asked the surgeon sharply.

'It's just that a pretty nose isn't always a good thing when one is being manly,' the doctor tried to explain.

'Manly!' laughed Sam91. 'That's so last century...'

She saw the Sphinx's concealed hurt reaction and decided to help him out.

'Here' and punched him once but with all her might. Her hand cracked but so did the beautiful nose that she'd sculpted.

Blood dripped from the nose and she cried with pain herself. Looking at her crumpled hand....

She realised she was becoming somewhat more manly herself.

'There!' explained the good doctor, gently petting her crumpled hand affirmingly. 'Doesn't it feel good to be manly?'

'Not so much, no,' Sam91 answered, honestly.

'Well, I guess you're right about that', explained the Doctor. 'But doesn't it look good to be manly?'

'Not really, no,' answered Sam91 honestly again, looking first at her own crumpled hand, then at the Doctor's broken nose, now dripping with blood.

'Well, okay, I'll give you that also,' agreed the Doctor. 'But doesn't being so manly command the respect of those who see us?'

Sam91 looked at Mr H, who had such a frown on his face, that she would have believed he would have called the nearest asylum on the duo, had the ship been anywhere near a port. 'Sadly Doctor Sphinx', Sam91 replied, 'manliness such as this doesn't even command respect.'

The Doctor nodded, realising that his friend spoke the truth. 'Look Sam91', he explained coyly, 'I've had this medallion minted for me, but I need some sort of authorisation for it, before it becomes official.'

He handed her a golden medallion, and she noticed it was engraved with the body of a beautiful woman. 'A little too beautiful', she thought crossly, noticing the unnecessary attention to detail for certain features. But before she could scold the Sphinx, she turned the coin over, and the shock of the verbiage there made her forget her anger.

'An Honourary Woman Medallion?' she asked incredulously.

She took the medallion and placed it with her own and threw them both over the perimeter of the ship to the doctors distaste.

'God created you as a man and myself as a lady. Why should we try to become what we are not but thank the Lord for His wisdom?'

The Sphinx began with '1 timothy 2:12...'

But stopped very quickly when he noticed @LaSorcia approaching rapidly, safety scissors still in her hand.

Sam91 was a little concerned with her friends obsession with carrying said implements. She wondered if she might prefer a micro-guilotine, or even a scalpel. Safety scissors were not the most effective cutting tool on the market.

She would have to check to see if DSI had a Christmas sale on, or if it had updated its shipping policy yet. A scalpel would be a great Christmas present afterall.

The good doctor smiled at Sam91's thought processes and shrugged at her naivety. He was still concerned about the probability of a misfortune having happened to the Captain and was starting to question if they would ever make it to the poop-deck.

'LaSorcia, what are you doing with those scissors?' Sam 91 asked but laSorcia mumbled to herself and rushed away below deck.

Sam91 felt Mr H still watching her and decided to play on it a little.

'Doctor S, do you think you would like to become a feature of my museum on your death? I am thinking of the possibility reopening it and a stuffed Sphinx would be an ideal attraction.'

The Good Doctor beamed, confirming Mr H's suspicion that they were infact both crazy...

The three recommenced their journey to the poopdeck to the good doctor's relief.

'Sphinxy, why would you even want to become an honourary woman?' Said Sam91.

He stopped, stomach feeling like a ton of bricks were falling down a very long chasm. He slowly turned around to face her and said
'Well you seem to have a nice, cushy situation going on. Less responsibility, people willing to defend your honour. Just look at Mr H here and what he did to my nose, just on your say so.'

'So you would be willing to give up your male priviledge just for that? Do you not know the pressures of being female? The best of us ladies... if we are Christian at least, are not even to teach the worst of you men. We could be spiritually fervant, educated, but not to teach the most laziest among you; even to save him from sin. According to what men seem to think anyway. You could handle that?

If you were married and had watched the children all day, cleaned the house, listened to whining children, not had a chance to even speak to an adult all week because they have chickenpox but you still cooked your husband a lovely dinner. Then when you had finished the dishes thinking you had finally finished your days work, he asks you for another coffee and to go iron a certain shirt. The just when you think you can get a chat with him and the first chance to rest all day, he announces he is going to his friend's house to watch the boxing. You would like that? Please bear in mind that he, and the rest of your church expect you to be a good Christian woman and submit. You should take it on the chin and remain gentle, loving, kind and cheerful. If you really must complain you should go and pray instead. Ask to be made more patient and giving, rather than a nagging wife. Remember the proverbs against a nagging wife. You would really trade your male priviledge for that?

The next day you finally get a chance to go to housegroup because he doesn't fancy going and they ask you if he is babysitting the kids for you as if he is doing you a favour. Don't forget to smile and agree meekly that he is such a good man for doing that. When you do it most weeks with no one commenting on how good you are babysitting his children. You would really be able to tolerate that?

I seem to remember your very sexist speech when you gave me the honourary male medallion. In fact, to be male was the only way you would accept me as an heir! I seem to remember that you called us brainless too'

The Sphinx remembered why he had avoided the company of women over the millennia. Modern women were worse, they seemed to feel entitled. Mr H looked at him expectantly for an answer, waiting to see if the Sphinx was going to put Sam91 back in her place and cuff her to the kitchen sink, or if the the Dr would suffer anhilation.

'Well, Samantha, you are looking at the new and improved, Dr Sphinx the campaigner for women's suffrage!' The good doc could not believe what he just said. Surely not. Was Sam91 bewitching him, is this why women weren't to teach?

'Really Sphinxy?' Sam91 smiled, doing mini jumps of jubilation on the spot.

'Why, er yes! Of course! Do you take me to be a double-minded man? Cast about like the waves at sea? I said it, I mean it. Now let's find the Captain. He is no longer going to be resting and having you women cleaning up after him, while he lies back with his boots on the table.'

Mr H did not know what to think...

As the three were about to resume the never ending journey to the poopdeck Captain @DavidFirth waltzed down the corridor. Yes, he positively waltzed. Why? This narrator knows not, but we never did find out why Mr H had seen the Captain's face in the poopdeck floor, nor why @LaSorcia has taken to running around lately with safety scissors aloft. Maybe, somethings are better left unsaid.

'@Sam91! Just the person I was looking for. Please accompany me to my desk. I need to talk to you about your recent stocktake and those rather miserly projections. Surely it is not time to begin rationing?'

Sam91 followed the captain. Mr H, had the opportunity to try to understand one riddle of the Sphinx.

'Doctor Sphinx! What was the meaning of becoming a campaigner for women's equality?'

'Mr H, my good chef, I have absolutely no idea what came over me. I wonder if this is how Adam ended up eating that apple! She must have deployed some kind of witchcraft. Although, Samantha is too good to have done it deliberately.' He replied, while worrying internally about whether Sam91 was not infact a wolf in sheeps clothing, however he knew better than to go further and liken her to Jezebel. Whatever she had done, he would forgive her and pray for her. It must have been unintentional.

'Hmmm' Mr H thought. 'Paul was quite correct when he said "I do not permit a woman to teach". I shall never doubt that verse again. So how are you going to backtrack on your word?'

The good Dr S paled. 'Mr H, remember the story you told me about what they do to bull's in your homeland when they get a little too manly? You didn't tell Sam91 did you?'

'I did, we were talking of beef ribs and then my days being a rancher. You don't think she would surgically alter you do you?' Said the appalled Mr H.

The doctor paled further. 'One never knows where they stand with Sam91. She once injured me with her guilotine and reattached my toes. She operated on my brain without permission. Threatened to remove eyes, circumcise my heart. I do not underestimate her one bit. Will you assist me in a mission?..'

'To liberate her tools and hide them until the storm settles?' Mr H guessed, nodding in agreement if this was to be the mission.

Someone sniggered....