In my role as a kind of curator for the mountie, forced to spend life like this perhaps because the world knows that to have any hope of capturing a phenomenum as complicated as this, we must start before he leaves this world for more mystical lands... but in this role, the question I most often hear is: What became of Fenwick?

I wouldn't even bring this matter up if it weren't for the impact it has on our current concern - all things related to the Model in Black or as some would have it, The Tragedy of the Model in Black. Although being something of a purest in this regard I personally wouldn't assign the term tragedy to her sad tale, because she fails to meet all of the criteria for a truly tragic figure of any form. But Fenwick's fate does figure a bit into her story.

Fenwick alone we don't understand yet. We all know what became of Nell. Breaks the heart it's true but you could see it coming years in advance. We all know what became of Horse. His fate not tied closely enough to Nell's for her taste *sigh* Ain't that how Life works?

One by one the original Ka Tet was reduced to just one. Oh sure Ride has his membership in Team Banzai but that group was always less tightly knit than his original gang, his original compadres. The ones that shaped and framed him. Cut his form out of the fabric. And whose fates were the annealing process of the mountie's resolve.

Fenwick's demise is a long tale. This is to be expected of one with such a storied career. He was easily the most prominent, powerful figure destroyed by the Model in Black. His destruction in a sense made her. She went from small time to king of the heap in her corner of the universe thanks to the 'character' she displayed in her machinations to bring him down so finally.

Ironically enough, Ride figured into the destruction of his beloved friend, captain, and mentor. For Ride failed to notice the ties, the controls, worked into him by the wily model. He did not notice, did not detect, the dark character that tinged his own acts when endeavoring to please her. And so he had to share some responsibility with her, in the destruction of such a good man. Any who did not understand this may now see why the Model is doomed, so long as the mountie comes out alive. For he is consumed with setting matters right which to him means avenging the obliteration of his captain.

This smacks of obsession. But as I think you've seen, it truly is not this at all. Oh Ride had made some attempts to bring her in. He had played havoc with her plans. He never forgot she was out there and always gave her priority in his plans. But in her twisted, some would say sprained, mind Ride was coming to destroy her as she did his captain. It was afer all exactly what she would do if the situation were reversed. This failure to see how things really were, to correctly assign the right weight to an observation, would make her end so much harder.

Some would ask: 'Do we really need to know all the gory details? The full horrible retelling?'

Well, that is a matter of opinion, is subjective. I would hate to leave you, the thoughtful reader, feeling short changed. Many would criticize me for leaving a key pillar out of the construct.

So with that in mind...

Fenwick started out as a child...

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Ironically enough,




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State of mind... State of mind... what we seek is the mountie's state of mind at the time of the death of his mentor, a man who was so important in the mountie's life, whose death could not help but effect the remainder of his life...

We must go back in time... We must remember what it was like then... then... then...


1st gravedigger: Is he to be buried in Christian burial when he willfully sought his own salvation?

2nd gravedigger: I tell you he is. Therefore make his grave straight. The coroner has sat on him, and finds it Christian burial.

1st gravedigger: How can that be, unless he drowned himself in his own defense?

2nd gravedigger: Why it is found so.

1st gravedigger: It must be se offendendo, it cannot be else. For here lies the point: if I drown myself wittingly it argues an act, and an act has 3 branches- it is to act, to do, to perform. Ergo, he drowned himself wittingly.

2nd gravedigger: Nay but hear you, Goodman Delver.

1st: Give me leave. Hear lies the water-good. Here stands the man-good. If the man goes to the water and drowns himself, it is, will he nill he, he goes, mind that. But if the water comes to him, and drowns him, then he drowns not himself. Ergo he that is not guilty of his own death shortens not his own life.

2nd: But is this Law?

1st: Sure it is. In every state but Texas.

2nd: Truth be told if he were not a powerful man he would not be given a Christian burial.

1st: Ain't that the truth. And what a pity it is. That great folk should have countenance in this world to hang or drown themselves more than the average joe. Go grab me a beer.

(sings) when i was young and my heart was an open book...

Ride: Has this fellow no feeling for his business? He sings in gravemaking.

Banzai: Custom has made it in him a property of easiness.

Ride: Yeah that's right. The man who has never filled a grave has the daintier sense.

(the gravedigger uses a shin bone as a guitar for a while and then gets back to work. Throwing up a skull)

Ride: That skull had a tongue in it and could sing once. Look how he hurls it to the ground as if it were Cain's very jawbone, you know, the very first murderer. This might be the pate of a politician which this rough fellow now overreaches. Maybe even from his own party.

Banzai: It might.

Ride: There's another. Why may that not be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his quillities, his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? Why does he suffer this mad knave now to knock him about the sconce with a dirty shovel and will not tell him of his action of battery? Why... this fellow might have been in his time a great buyer of land, with his statutes, his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries. Is this the fine of his fines, and the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine pate full of fine dirt? Will his vouchers vouch him no more of his purchases and double ones too than the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? The very conveyances of his lands will scarcely lie in this box and must the inheritor himself have no more, ha?

Banzai: Not a bit more.

Ride: Well I am not going to stick around here and see any more of this.

Banzai: Yeah lets go to the wake. How are you doing anyway?

Ride: Oh I woke up with this sore throat and headache, I think it is the sickness that's gonna kill me someday and .... Oh wait. I see. You mean about the death...

Banzai: mmmhmmmm

Ride: They say there are 7 stages of dealing with death...

Banzai: Yes I've heard that too.

Ride: They are wrong...

Banzai: Really?

Ride: Yeah, I am in number 8: unquenchable thirst for vengeance.

Banzai: (looking at him carefully) Are you in balance?

Ride: Perfect balance. With a new 10th arm, metaphorically of course, holding an unsheathed sword.

Banzai: Then you will not object to going to the drill yard and dueling with me.

Ride: You will find me a more challenging opponent than you have ever imagined possible for me.

Banzai: Let's see....






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Banzai: Let's see....



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"Woof, woof. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOF"

Ophelia sat before her cam. Sadly, she was... barking mad.

(singing) "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh you can touch my cherries, but don't you touch my pluuuuuuuuuums"

What, you may ask, drove her to this wretched state? Unrequited love? Cruelty from one dear to her? Death? Evil?

(singing) Feeeeeeeeegaro. Feegaro. Feegaro. Feegaro. Feeeeeeeeeeeeegarooooooooooo.

Could it have been a dream unrealized? The pressure of over-demanding parents?

(speaking) You must never retreat in battle. It will only encourage your enemies. Give me 80 men and I will ride through the Sioux nation!

Are there any signs of what it is to be seen? Is there any hope of pulling her out of this state?

(speaking) Today is fast Wednesday. If you are the first to take me private, I will go on hunger strike for you.

(singing) It's a party! (throwing on a cape) I can fly! varoooooooom!

Was there any method to her madness? Any sign of redemption? Was there balm in Gilead?

(orating) This country was founded on a belief in ghosts. Every signer had to spend a night in the Widow Jones house before he was inducted.

(loudly) Veritas... omnia... winket...

(singing) What kind of man does a lot for meee.... Superman with a lobotomy...

(very seriously) We must close our borders immediately. We are being invaded... If one life... If one job... There must be no risk in life!

(poetically) Ask not what you can do for your company... We don't wanna hear it!

Yes the pull of many complex forces had pulled her Reason down. Let's hope her friends keep her away from the brook. For her madness is clearly of a very destructive flavor.

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"Woof, woof.



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First: Thrice the brinded cat hath mewed.

Second: Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined.

Third: Harpier cries. 'Tis time, 'tis time.

First: Round about the caldrons go:
In the poisoned entrails throw.
Toad, that under cold stone
Days and nights has thirty-one
Swelt'red venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i' th' charmed pot.

All: Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire burn and caldron bubble.

Second: Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the caldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork and blindworm's sting,
Lizard's leg and howlet's wing,
For a charm of pow'rful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

All: Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire burn and caldron bubble.

Third: Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
Witch's mummy, maw and gulf
Of the ravined salt-sea shark,
Root of hemlock digged i' th' dark.,
Liver of blaspheming Jew,
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Slivered in the moon's eclipse,
Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips,
Finger of birth-strangled babe
Ditch-delivered by a drab,
Make the gruel thick and slab
Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,
For th' ingredience of our caldron.

All: Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire burn and caldron bubble.

Second: Cool it with a baboon's blood,
Then the charm is firm and good.

Second: By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes
Open locks,
Whoever knocks!

Model in Black: Hail secret, black, and midnight hags. What do you do?

All: A deed without name.

Model in Black: I conjure you, by that which you profess,
Howe'er you come to know it, answer me
Though you untie the winds and let them fight
Against the churches though the yesty waves
Confound and swallow navigation up;
Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down;
Though castles topple on their warders heads
Though palaces and pyramids do slope
Their heads to their foundations
Though the treasure
Of nature's germens tumble all together,
Even till destruction sicken, answer me
To what I ask you.

First: Speak
Second: Demand.
Third: We'll answer.

Model in Black: Is the mountie going to kill me?

All: You shall not die from the hand of any man.

Model in Black: Will I rule some world?

All: Your descendents shall prosper and reach the highest offices.

Model in Black: Will I kill the mountie?

All: He will suffer the fate you desire for him before you part forever.

Model in Black: Most excellent prophecy my sisters. Bid your Master good day for me.

...

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First:

Second:

Third:




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Most excellent prophecy my sisters. Bid your Master good day for me.
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God's wife entered and intervened...

"I can see there is one humongous tragedy building up here..." she said with irritation coursing through her every word.

"I am so fucking sick of tragedies."

"You there. Goth or whatever the hell you are" the Model in Black became aware of being in the cross hairs.

"Ye.. Yeeesss. Mistress?" she stammered.

"Keep up the good sex. Lose the attitude. Chill out. Stop killing people." ordered the deity.

"Mountie. You're fired. Hang up your spurs. If this whack job floats your boat, then marry her and go off into the sunset together. Forget Fenwick and everything else. I'll fix things up here, ya hear." (under her breath) "Crimany. I leave the shop in charge of the old man and it's all drama and gloom."

"And the rest of you... Can you just manage to have a good time without being so damned awful? You are all so damned cute as babies I don't know what happened."

"Now I am going for my cig and by the old man if anyone bothers me, there won't be anything left to stitch back together"

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"I am so fucking sick



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Scene: a simple apartment in a beautiful city... Afternoon... Sunlight streaming into it. A woman. Dressed in white. She works in the kitchen. Unpacking. Cooking. She has just moved in.

Whoooa! It is the Model in Black! Without her body guard. Outside of her lair. Looking ... relaxed. Looking ... joyful.

For the first time in years she has slept well. Looks more beautiful than ever. Scars from battle the only signs of a violent life.

She no longer fidgets. No longer starts at loud noises. No chemicals, self applied, bump through her veins. She whistles. She hums. She enjoys the labor of making her place orderly. Clean. Ready.

The promise of divine protection and forgiveness has transformed her. She needed it. She latched onto it. She bet the farm upon it.

Cynical victims of her excesses would have been even more enraged perhaps to see her blissfully unaffected by her crimes. Some awareness of guilt, some sign of suffering, would maybe soften them a little. But then again, there was no such person here, and we do not know how she would react to encountering a victim of her past.

Hope. Dreams. She now had them. The kind of dreams that most people have now. Not ruling worlds. Only ruling a household. Her fierce energy and passion had found new channels. Channels that seemed to promise a safe, productive passage through life.

All she needed to complete the picture was him... That was the unknown in the equation... What, if anything had changed in him? Was he ready to rapidly change his view of the situation? To accept her as she was now? To trust her after all she had done? Did he even still have any feeling for her?

Hmmmmm at this point I suppose this could still be a tragedy...

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a tragedy...




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a tragedy...




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Ride meanwhile knew that he had to prepare for a decisive day...

So he warmed up by trying out his new thing with his sexy next-door neighbor...

He lured her to his pantry... Yes his pantry...

And then... he stripped her so quickly...

She panted with passion as she heard him remove a lid of a large can...

She groaned as he spread it over her...

"One" intoned the mountie with great ceremony.

Ohhhhhhhh it was so good. His warm hands. The way he lavished it on.

Her eyes closed even under the blindfold. Lids luxuriating against the velvet touch...

"Two" he hissed passionately, another can.

Ohhhhhhhh and what he did with his mouth. His cock tip. As the contents worked over her now tingling skin.

"Three" from working lips - heaven. She was completely coated. She was so relaxed and yet so fucking hornie.

"Four" from between gritted teeth. Now her skin was so slick. That the additional was just for weight, texture. Soooo nice.

"Five" coming out in syllables She came now. For the first time...

"Six" barely audible but so intense. How much more would there be?

"Whaaaaaaa. Oh my god. what do you call this Dudley" she gasped out.

"It is my dear" answered the passionate mountie "Simply the count of mountie crisco"

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The showdown had finally come...

The mountie appeared... She was waiting for him...

There was no drawing... There was no ambush...

Mountie a Model...

Crimson to ?...

Mountie: "So are you black, white, or gray now?" (as he cautiously circled around her checking for traps, assessing her, making his last minute adjustments to his plan)

Model: (with a sunny smile) "I am white now Dudley."

Mountie: (peering deeply into soul with flashing green soul searchers) "So you'd have me believe. You have a long history behind a different banner."

Model: (more of a smile and outstretched arms) "I am reborn honey. I now seek the path of goodness, of virtue."

Mountie: "So one god has spoken. And you are transformed. We are supposed to believe this is permenent?"

Model: "You will believe what you believe. The question is: what will you do."

Mountie: "Life is precious. This principle is larger than all others. You know that if I believe that you are no longer a threat, that you may in fact serve Good, that I would protect your life against any who tried to take it."

Model: "I have explained what happened. You see how I live now. What more can I do?"

Mountie: "I expect you to join the fight on our side. To betray your former friends. To confront and defeat them with me."

Model: "We were told to retire by a god. To simply live normally."

Mountie: "The gods have shown, history has shown, that only man should govern man. No heart is purer, such as it is, than the heart of man. No creature, no matter how powerful, has as good a sense of justice, however imperfect, of morality. Man exists to defy gods. Not to serve them. He has the power of thought to judge them. And how clearly he can see just how flawed they truly are."

"You serve Good by bringing all your skills to bear in defeating Evil. Nobody can do more damage to Evil than you can by your oh so close association with it over the years. Prove your new resolve under fire woman."


Model: (with laughter and smile) "Do I have a choice? Or are you going to carry me out of here under your arm?"

Mountie: "I will not force you. But you must know that your old 'friends' will come after you now. They will be just as suspicious as I am of you. The difference is that they will not give you any chance to show them what you really are now. They will simply try to kill you. They may chew up your nice neighborhood here in the process. You might consider that too."

Model: (with a deep, savoring look coupled with a light, swaggering smile) "You always were a careful man. I like how you are thinking about my well-being. Still have some feelings in that chest for me?"

Mountie: (?) "You always claimed we had such a connection. Can't you read my feelings?"

Model: (with confidence) "I think I can. And I am so very glad to be alive."










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yet so fucking hornie.

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I would protect your life against any who tried to take it."





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Gramps: Well there you have it. (closes book with a thump and places it into its place on the bookshelf)

little girl: Yeah. Great ending.

Gramps: I know. It explains so many things. Don't know how we'd get on in life without it.

little girl: Oh I know, I know. And I'll tell ya...

Gramps: What?

little girl: I'll still never marry a mountie!

Gramps: Oh you!

(they hug. he tucks her in. lights off. we fade away........... bye now)

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What?




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