The city from my view.

A pulse on a vibrant Megalopolis.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

The Adventures of Campy Girlymann Continue

Campy studied the map, trying to place the turns, rooms and hallways in his mind but it was difficult, he had never been inside before. Taking a peek of the servants hallway, there wasn't much to signal which way other than what the map gave. He turned right and looked for the stairs not to far away. Small, and dimly lit, Girlymann took them to the landing above. This opened to a hallway rich in color, drapes and art work.  He had to make up his mind soon. The turn for the short cut was just up ahead.

When he got to the turn, and looked for a faux side table that would open the wood panel to reveal a passage, he hesitated. It seemed he could hear voices, as if a party was going on somewhere inside. It didn't seem to come nearby but echo throughout as he walked. He pulled at the table's side and watched it open silently until he could slip in sideways. Now the noise was louder, still muffled that he couldn't hear exact words but enough to know there was talk and laughter going on somewhere in the building.

He decided to continue. After he closed the passage with a cord that hung on the back, he carefully crept forward to a landing and then another turn, this took him to a door he had to walk through to continue his way to the where the dungeon was located. The door was another faux fixture, when he opened it  there was a heavy velvet curtain on the other side.  Now the laughter and talk were much more discernible. Not in the room behind the curtain but quite close. He would have to be very careful to continue because he needed to go to the next passage that lead directly to the dungeon but first would have to cross a short distance to where a full length mirror was located.

He held his breath, and as he closed the door behind him, he parted the curtain and stepped out.

To be continued....

Monday, September 26, 2011

The Adventures of Campy Girlymann Continue

Once Campy saw the gates for the Estate du Cluade, he pulled out a wireless device that Ricky gave him with the black box. He pressed the button and waited for the green light to confirm the box received the message. Then he turned off the street and onto the road that led to the estate. He was sure that the cameras picked up who entered, whether or not the two men looked until whoever it was came to the Estate's parking entrance or not was another matter. But once Campy was at the gate it flew open without him stopping. He rode in noticing that no one was in the courtyard, not even one of the two men at the security cameras. And because they were out of sight from the laundry room, Campy rode there and noticed a small light on in a little  barred window near the door.

He rode up to the door and dismounted, knocked three times and the door opened. A small girl was there with a smile. 'Monsieur, quickly, bring your bicycle in."

Campy complied and she pointed to a mound of laundry nearby, "Hide your bike there, behind the bundles. It will be waiting for you when you leave."

Girlymann did as she asked and then said, "Thank you Rose."

She blushed and then curtsied. "Your welcome Monsieur."  She then pulled out a sheet of paper that looked like a blueprint of the Estate. There was an X where they were and drawn lines to a location under the Estate. "You will find what you are looking for with this map." She said and pointed along the line from the laundry room to a point marked, Dungeon.

Campy studied the blueprint turned into a map and he could see why he needed it, there were so many passages and it seemed to him that he was being directed to a hidden  passage that went directly to the dungeon from a location near the library. It was also marked, 'USE WITH CAUTION!' another line went further on and around to a series of staircases and hallways, a longer way but without the caution warning.

Campy had to make a decision. 


To be continued....

Sunday, September 25, 2011

The Adventures Of Campy Girlymann

The sun shining, Girlymann washed the dye from his hair. He had been letting it grow back, not as long as it once was but long enough to give a full body of golden curls. He put on his Campagnolo jersey, his lucky Lycra bib shorts, showing off his ass to its best and popping those thunder thighs to the max. Campy looked in the mirror and smiled.

"I'm back, I'm bad and I'm mad." He said with a snarl.

In his kit he put everything he thought he might need for his greatest adventure, the return of the famous De Rosa, the release of an innocent captive and hopefully the redemption of a country village. Any one would be a tall order to take but Campy knew the stakes and was willing to risk it all.

His red Pogliaghi, beautiful and gleaming, stood near the garden gate. It seemed to be waiting for him. An old war horse ready for battle. Pierre had new tires for it that Girlymann requested. A bit heavier than most race tires but dependable and that's what Campy needed most.

It was a fine day, the serious riders had left that morning and at about this time, mid afternoon, most will have been back, resting sore muscles. Campy was just starting. He said goodbye to Pierre and opened the garden gate to mount his bike and ride away.

With the wind once again in his face, Campy had a grin from ear to ear, only now he felt himself. No more servile worker, or  Aussie tourist, just  Campy Girlymann: bubble butt, bad, buff and beautiful.

Once on the outskirts of town he picked up speed to relax his legs and get his mojo. He passed cars, flew by cyclists and flirted with the boys. He was heading to the Estate du Claude the long way.

To be continued....

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

The Adventures Of Campy Girlymann

On the way back to town the two men laughed and mimicked the guards. How they gave Michel hell for hiring such an idiot and hoped that he wasn't getting paid for what he did. They made Michel check the work to see if it was done right while hurling insults at Campy as he played along making himself look like a fool, dropping tools and bowing forgiveness.

"Quite an act you gave those two turd machines back there." Michel said as they entered the town's gate.

"I thought of joining a circus once, but this is way more fun." Campy remarked and smiled before he said, " How about joining Pierre and me in the backyard. He said he has a special wine to share with us."

Michel said as he pointed to himself, "A Frenchman turning down such an offer?"

"It's been great to know you, Michel, you're not only a great cyclist but a great man for helping me."

"My friend, I wait for you to set the trap, I want to be there."

"And you will."

The two pulled into Michel's little bike shop and after putting the tools of the trade away and secured they left for, Le Noir Chat. Once there, they talked with friends and gradually wound up in the little garden in back with Pierre and a dusty bottle of red wine.

"I stole this myself from under the Contesta's nose." He said as he pulled the cork on the bottle, "Getting one up on that bitch was one of the most pleasurable thrills I've had." Then Pierre poured the rich red wine into three glasses before he sat the bottle down on a little table where they had gathered.

The air was full of Jasmine, it competed with the nose of the wine and made the men feel tipsy without a sip yet of the grape. Michel rose though before they could taste the wine and said, " A toast."

Campy and Pierre rose from their patio chairs and raised their glasses with Michel.

"To success and revenge." Michel said and then they all clinked glasses and took a swallow.

"A very good wine," Michel said, "How did you obtain it from the clutches of the Contesta?"

"Ah, well, The wine merchant, Andre, my very good friend, called on me that he had obtained  ten crates of a very good wine from Burgundy. He wanted to let me know, before putting them out for sale." Pierre swirled the wine in his glass a bit before going on. "I went the next day to his shop and Andre gave me a taste. I couldn't believe the price for the quality and Andre added that with some age, the wine would be even better. I wanted one crate for myself, to enjoy."

Pierre stopped a moment as if he needed time to reflect on the events that occurred on that day.  "The Contesta came in, with her entourage of course, and saw us enjoying and talking of the new wine. 'What have you there Andre?' she said."

"' A new wine Contesta. Would you like a taste?' Andre said to her."  Pierre stopped the story to pour a bit more of the wine into each of the three glasses. "'Pierre seems to like it. How much do you have?' Ten crates' Andre said, and the bitch said she would take all ten. Andre told her that one was already taken by Pierre here, but she could have the other nine. But the Contesta told him if he wanted her business he would sell her all ten."

Pour Andre." Pierre said and shook his head. "She was, of course, his biggest customer and it would cost him dearly to cross her, especially since she drinks like a pig." A round of laughter ensued along with memories of famous stories told by her staff of the Contesta's  drunken binges.

"Well, my friend looked at me and I shrugged my shoulders, what could he do, so I asked Andre for a case of of Charles Shaw, that famous American wine and then talked with the Contesta. Of course you don't talk with the Contesta, she holds court but I asked her if she was happy with the duck that I recommended when one her cooking staff had asked about a good poultry farm. Of course she had no idea what I was talking about and on the way out, I offered to help place her order in her Rolls Royce. As Andre and lifted her cases, I quickly slipped the case of two buck Chuck in with the her order and took the last case left of the burgundy home with me. Even Andre did not know about it and guess what happened?"

"What?" the other two asked.

"A week later she asked for more of the American two buck Chuck and why was Andre hiding it from her."

The three men spent the night swapping tales until they finished the excellent bottle of burgundy.  Before they left, Michel reminded Campy, "Remember, Rose will be in the laundry room, there will be a small light on, knock three times and trust no one."

"I will." Campy said before they made their goodbyes and retired for the evening.

To be continued....

Sunday, September 18, 2011

The Adventures of Campy Girlymann

Michel and Campy rode the tricycles laden with tools toward the Estate du Claude. There were other stops they needed to make but first the Du Claude. Once past the gate the old man again greeted them and took them to the work shop on the side of the garage. There was another bike there, no sign though of the De Rosa and, as expected, the two men playing cards.

"I'm going to put the belt on the washer. I'll let you work on the bike. It needs new tires and a new chain. Can you do that?" Michel asked Campy.

"Sure boss."

"Okay, I'm counting on you, this is your first time without my supervision."

"I can do it boss."

With that Michel left with the old man and some tools along with the belt needed to repair the washer leaving Campy to himself and the two men. Campy left to retrieve the things he needed, some in sacks and others hauled by hand.

He placed the bike to be repaired near the table with the two men at cards. They looked at him a bit annoyed but went back to their game.  Campy then began to assemble the bike stand but when he slipped the base of the bike stand to the frame, tilting it to put the base on, the frame hit against the bike to be repaired and fell into the table knocking everything on the floor.

"You idiot. Get away!" exclaimed one of the men.

"Sorry your lordship. Sorry," Campy said bending down to retrieve the cards and bottles scattered about. But as he did, his foot caught the bent bike stand sending it down on himself and one of the men.

"What a fool.  You imbecile!" The man screamed shoving Campy off him.

Girlymann got up quickly and moved the stand back, grabbing a box inside a sack nearby as he did so. While the one man helped his friend up and they both began to right the table and cards, Campy pulled the cables on an identical black box hooked to the screens and exchanged it with the one from the sack. It took only a few seconds. Before the men had their affairs back Campy was trying again to put the stand together.

One man grabbed his arm, "Look you idiot, go over to the wood bin and work there. If you can that is." He pulled on Campy's arm until they were at the wood bin before the man went back to his cards.



While Campy worked, the two men made rude comments as to Campy's ancestry, his mother and even his dog if had had one. 

Campy played along with dropping a tool or trying to figure which side to take the tires off. 'Let them laugh,' he thought, 'I'll laugh too.'

To be continued.....

Thursday, September 15, 2011

The Adventures of Campy Girlymann

Monsieur Campy, Ricky is the right man. It would be easy for him." Pierre said, trying to assure Campy.

"I hate to admit it but you're right." Campy said and then dialed the phone.

"Bernard? Campy here," Campy listened to Bernard rattle on for five minutes before he could ask a question.

"I need some help with a video and electronics, Pierre said Ricky was the best. Can I talk to him?"

There was  another five minutes of Bernard agreeing before Ricky answered the phone. "Yes, what can I do for our old friend."  Ricky said.

"I need a video made that can be turned on with a wireless device."

"That's it?"

"Well, there's more, can you come to the Black Cat?"

"Le Noir Chat?"

"Sorry, yes, Le Noir Chat. I need it by Monday morning."

"I'm not sure what it is you need but I will come now, Yes?"

"Great thanks! See you in an hour?"

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes.  Ciao."

Campy was pleased, Ricky was a perfectionist but that's what he needed.  But could a perfectionist do the job on time? Campy hoped for the better while the minutes clicked by. 

Not long after, Ricky came in and went to the bar where Campy was before he sat next to him. "Can we talk?"

Campy looked around, not many people and it would draw attention, he thought, if the two left for the back room.

"I think, if we give a chuckle now and then."

"This is a joke you want to play, is that it?" Ricky asked.

"Yes, a little prank, I need something that I can easily attach to observation cameras to show that a sports car is at the gate."

"Are the cameras attached to a device now?"

"Yes, they are, it can see the road leading to the house and the three sides of the vehicle at the gate. I thought it would be clever to have someone... Maybe someone like Jean Claude behind one of his sports car, so that they thought it was him at the gate."

"A clever mischief to play on the mayor  hey?" Said Ricky in a loud voice.

"Exactly. Can you do it?"

"I'll have such a thing for you on Sunday. Bernard and I will give it to Pierre on our way to the river bike ride."

"Looking forward to Sunday, thanks Ricky for helping me with this little joke."

The two men smiled and then Ricky slapped Campy's back and ordered a bottle of wine from Pierre.

To be continued....

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

The Adventures of Campy Girlymann

Campy took his time with the De Rosa, Michel had already fixed the other bike and had left to look at the wash machine as Campy finished wiping the De Rosa's tires. The men playing cards chided him for being so slow and that only someone like Michel would hire such an oaf. But Campy ignored the louts and instead watched how delivery vans entered the estate. There were three small screens near where the men sat and when a horned honked or the gate's buzzer sounded, the men would look at the screens and either stand to press a button on a panel nearby, or inquire their name and business through the intercom. No matter what, Campy observed, at least one of the men were near the screens and the panel.

It didn't take long to finish the carbon bike. There were no intricate welds or chrome joints to carefully clean, no decals or fine detail to gently wipe. He had finished just as Michel returned with the old man.

"The pump needs a new belt is all. If you want, on my next time here, I will bring one. "

"Most grateful, Michel. The Contesta is always accusing them of stealing, she would blame them and take the repair bill from their meager wages."

"How are they doing the wash now?"

The old man shrugged, "How else? By hand of course.  They go to the river and wash there, it is back breaking for them." 

"I will be out Monday, tell them it will be repaired by noon on Monday."

"They will be so thankful. I think there is enough towels and linen in this place to sustain the Contesta for the weekend." The old man said with a wink.

Michel placed his hand on Campy's shoulder, "Place the tools back, we'll return Monday."

Campy touched his cap and began to break down the bike stand. He took another look at the wiring of the screens and the panel on his trips back and forth from the shed and the tricycles. The men paid him no heed at all.

To be continued....

Sunday, September 11, 2011

The Adventures of Campy Girlyman...

It was all Campy could do to keep from grabbing his bike and taking off. Damn be these French and their queer ways. Damn to the village and its idiots for not standing on their own and confront the De Claudes.  All he wanted was to ride the famous De Rosa that stood now in front of him as he held a cleaning rag clutched in his hand. He wasn't even allowed to repair his De Rosa, only to wipe the filth from its weary frame.

With a loving hand, he began to gently ease the dirt off the bright gleam of the finish. It seemed to Campy that the De Rosa knew he was there, that the bike held still for him as his hand brushed away cakes of grime. He wanted to comfort this famous steed in its hour of great need.  To pay homage to the once renowned flash of blue that whisked by towns and country.

Campy gently moved the bike to lay against him as he reached over to clean the tubing's other side. He felt the metal rest on him to take its burden of labor into safe harbor. And as Campy softly brushed the dirt and then, with a gentle hand, wipe the grime away with warm water and soap, a tear fell to the floor. The only tear Campy vowed to shed until Jean de Claude was vanquished and his reign of terror finished.

"I will have my day." Campy snorted.

"What was that you said? You're tired? Well, what kind of bike mechanic would you make if you couldn't handle a little dirt?" Michel quipped and with it a wink and bit of stiff upper lip to say not to give us away.

Campy  coughed to rid his throat and clear his mind. Now is not the time for sentiment, he thought. It was a time to think and form a new plan, now that he was inside the estate of the De Claudes. Campy took a look around, at the men playing cards, the comings and goings at the estate's entrance and looked for a sign of weakness in this fortress of evil. He would find it, if just a mouse hole, he would find it.

To be continued....