"Scott's Land" Seymour Recipe Part III Cont.

They arrived on the outskirts of Scott’s Land shortly thereafter. It was a small village with a huge structure located directly in the center of the town. It had a familiar appearance to Sister Seymour, but he couldn’t remember where he had seen something similar before. It had to have been at the convent. McTavish took the lead as he was familiar with the streets and Seymour followed taking in all the sights. This was the first village he had ever been in and he could barely contain his excitement. His traveling companion led Seymour to a small establishment that had a sign hanging over the door that read The Rub-a-Pud-Pub. McTavish explained that it was a bar and grille and was owned by a friend of his by the name of McMick. Apparently he was the only Irishman in Scott’s Land.


The Pub was a cozy place with people sitting around eating and drinking as a large fireplace warmed the room. As they entered the patrons stopped what they were doing and stared at Sister Seymour with looks of surprise then astonishment. McTavish acknowledged McMick who was tending the bar and asked the nun “What will you have?” Sister Seymour advised that he had sworn a vow of poverty and consequently had to sponge off others. McTavis offered to pay since Seymour had pulled off the ferry ride. He ordered two shots of whiskey and two beer chasers and took a table. Seymour watched as McTavish knocked back the whiskey and guzzled the beer then finished with wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Sister Seymour did likewise and finished by wiping his mouth on his veil. Seymour felt warm and fuzzy as the alcohol began to take effect. His attention became diverted by a horrendous sound coming from the corner of the pub. As best he could tell there was a man with a bag with pipes sticking out of it and he appeared to be trying to inflate it with air while simultaneously pressing his arm against it. He might succeed if he would move his arm thought Seymour. He also noticed two brutish fellows sitting at the bar and clearly staring at him as they whispered to each other. McTavish said” The McNulty boys.

Troublemakers and bullies





You would do best to stay clear of them.” Seymour nodded that he understood. “So, Sister, where is your convent located?” “Somewhere in that direction I think” “That would be East” McTavish pointed out. “Where are you ordinally from, Sister? “I don’t really know” he confided. “Well where are your parents from then” “No, I don’t know that either” Seymour said a little testily. “I hope I am not troubling you, Sister, it certainly wasn’t my intent.” McTavish said apologetically. “Not to worry, McTavish, we just don’t like questions we don’t know the answers to” Sister Seymour explained. McTavish laughed a little and asked “We? Do you have a mouse in your pocket, Sister?” Seymour looked McTavish in the eye and said “I don’t have a mouse in my pocket but I do have Mr. Potato Head in my panties.” McTavish erupted in boisterous laughter and began pounding on the table unable to control himself. When he was finally able to contain himself, McTavish roared “I hear you, Sister, and I know how it is. I call mine Johnson!” Seymour didn’t quite understand the parallel but decided to drop the subject. McTavish felt a bit embarrassed that he may have caused Sister Seymour some pain for asking about his parents and was glad the subject was allowed to die on the vine. He liked the nun and decided to take the conversation in a new direction. He opened with “Where do you go from here, Sister? Sister Seymour thought about it and said she was just going to have a look around town and then mosey. “Well, I am concerned about you, Sister, being alone and all.” “I will be fine, McTavish, I have His Undeniable Majestic Presence to watch over me.” McTavis became a bit maudlin and again said he was worried that the world was too much for this nun alone and in the wilderness. “I will be fine, Sir” was his reply. The Sister smiled fondly and asked, “McTavish, is there one of those men’s rooms here?” “Aye, Sister just over there. Take the door with the little stick figure in pants.” Seymour looked and could see two doors and the other had a little stick figure clearly wearing a dress. “Do you use the other one?” McTavish looked confused. “What’s your point, Sister?” “The other appears to be for men in short dresses so I thought it was for you and the other fellows in skirts.” “It’s a kilt and not a skirt and no I am not telling you what I wear under it!” “Go do your business and I will order another round.” Sister Seymour smiled and left for the little stick man with the pants. The McNulty boys followed shortly thereafter.


Everyone, including McTavish, saw the bullies follow the nun into the men’s room. McMick also saw it and glanced at McTavish with obvious concern. That the nun was odd was never in doubt, but he had proven himself to be a kind and caring person. Now he was in desperate straights. McTavish, who had finally decided to confront the McNultys, broke a beer bottle across the back of a chair and girded his loins for the fight that would surely ensue. McMick had his baseball bat that he kept behind the bar and moved to join McTavish for the coming fray. The other patrons, fearing retribution from the McNulty boys grabbed their drinks and lined the Pub’s walls staying out of harms way. What happened next seemed to occur in slow motion. They were concerned about the poor nun that just entered the men’s room and were afraid of what the McNulty boys might do to him. They had no way of knowing what was about to happen.






The McNulty boys were about to meet a servant of His Undeniable Majestic Presence and pupil of Sister Kwai Chang Po.


The door to the men’s room seemed to groan a bit before it shattered and splintered. Only the hinges with some shards of boards remained attached. The Pub patrons were not sure if the younger McNulty was thrown though the door or he destroyed it in a desperate attempt to escape some maniac evil. Either way when the boy came flying out the door he was screaming “My eye. My eye” and his face looked like he had been flogged by razor wire. McTavish and McMick fought back the desire to vomit. They totally lost it when the older McNulty boy ran screaming for “Mommy” and fell over the sobbing body of his brother. In an agonizing attempt to find protection the older McNulty crawled to McMick and grabbed is leg shrieking for help. McTavish and McMick looked at the pathetic bully and were equally horrified when they saw the top of McNulty’s head. Entire clumps of hair were ripped out along with major segments of scalp. Blood was every where. McMick shook the bleeding bully off his leg and the McNultys fled into the street. Their agony ringing pleasantly in the ears of all who have suffered through their reign of terror. McTavish and McMick cautiously entered the men’s room to check on Sister Seymour. They found him looking at himself in a full length mirror and he was frowning. “Are you alright, Sister Seymour?” McTavish asked. Seymour nodded and appeared to be deep in thought as he intently studied himself. “This is the first time I have ever seen myself as others see me” he spoke. “Guess I know now why everyone has looked at me with surprise and astonishment since I arrived.” he said as he played with his veil. McMick and McTavish were looking at the floor so Sister Seymour couldn’t see the looks on there faces. They were embarrassed for him.“It’s hard to see oneself like this”, Seymour bemoaned. McNick and McTavish were shaking their heads and feeling very badly for the nun. Seymour noted with some consternation “I’ve never had a zit on my nose before. Good thing I have a veil.” They exited the bathroom together to cheers of “SISTER” “SISTER” SISTER”! The patrons of the pub were giving Sister Seymour a standing “O” for the thrashing he administered on the McNulty boys. “Drinks are on the house”! Shouted McMick.. Everyone crowded around Sister Seymour and slapped him on the back and thanked him profusely. The scene was so joyous that he asked McTavish “Do you think I should bring Mr. Potato Head out to join the celebration. McTavish looked startled and finally said with exuberance “I will if you will!.” But before either Mr. Potato Head or Johnson could make an appearance the pub’s buxom waitress sidled up to Seymour and whispered in his ear “I just love a man in uniform. I get off at eight.” She wandered off handing out the free drinks. Seymour watched her go and was confused. He turned to McTavish who witnessed the incident but before he could say anything McTavish advised. “That’s McEezee, the town slut. Stay away from her or you will get the clap.” “Is that like a high- five”? Sister Seymour inquired. “We are forbidden by the rules of the Order to participate in high-fives”. McTavish studied Seymour for a moment then confirmed that the clap was another form of high-five so he should avoid it. Seymour thanked him for the clarification and the warning.




The day was getting away from Seymour and he still wanted to have a look around Scott’s Land and especially the large structure at the center of town. He still couldn’t remember where he had seen something similar to it. He made his goodbyes to McTavish and McMick and excused himself from the jubilation. As he approached the door he saw McEezee wink at him and lick her lips. No high-fives for you young lady, was his thought. McTavish caught up to him as he was exiting the pub and asked “Sister, I hope we meet again. I’ve grown quite fond of you. What is your last name”? Seymour turned and told the old man “ray-SEE-pays”. McTavish asked how was that spelled. Seymour replied “R-e-c-i-p-e-s.” “Oh, Recipes......like in a cookbook” McTavish noted. A smile danced across the nun’s face as he recalled his father’s sage words of wisdom. “Your last name is ray-SEE-pays despite what anyone may tell you”. Seymour hadn’t forgotten his father’s kindness and taking the time to ensure that his son did not go through life making a complete ass of himself. Seymour repeated the name one last time for McTavish then bid him a fond farewell.


The structure at the center of town was enormous. It had about a dozen steps leading up to four huge wooden double doors. The windows were made of colorful glass and appeared to be telling a story of some kind. Atop the building was a huge dart with a large bell. Where had he seen this before? He walked up the stairs and discovered they were made of marble. Seymour felt each of the gigantic doors and they appeared to have been made with mahogany. All the doors were locked. Then it came to Seymour. Now he remembered. In yoga class Sister Twister use to do a grueling exercise with her hands that very few of the nuns could duplicate. It began by entwining the fingers and had a mantra that accompanied the yoga posture. He could hear it as clearly as the nose on his face. “Here is the church .Here is the steeple. Open the doors and see all the people”. Was this a church? Sister Seymour walked down the marble steps scanning the empty streets looking for the answer. There was an odd conveyance at the bottom of the steps and a bit to the side. A man labored around it. As Seymour got closer he could see writing on the conveyance. It said:

McHAMMER’S ROACH COACH: GOURMET DINING AT AFFORDABLE PRICES.

No shoes, no shirt, no service.

No Fooling




Sister Seymour decided that he was probably a native of Scott’s Land and would surely have the answer to his question. He bounded down the stairs and approached the fellow who appeared to be stirring something in a large pot. Seymour called out to the man who had his back to him “Excuse me, Sir” Without turning around the fellow yelled “McHammer is the name and fine dining is the my game”. “ Mr. McHammer, I have a question that perhaps you could help me with.” “Certainly” he was saying as he was turning around to face Seymour. “Glad




to be of.............” His voice trailed off when he saw Sister Seymour. McHammer looked surprised at first and then the astonishment set in. “I know, I know” said Sister Seymour. “The zit”. McHammer finally found his tongue and asked “Are you a nun”? “Yes” Seymour responded “and I have a question.” McHammer nodded. The nun turned a bit and pointed at the large structure that dominated the town square and inquired “Is that a church”? “You are a nun and have never seen a church”? was the reply. Sister Seymour held McHammer’s gaze and waited for answer to his question. “ It is Saint Hurley’s Cathedral”. “Very impressive” Seymour chimed in. “Who is Saint Hurley” was the next question. “Patron Saint of the Morbidly Obese......that’s why it is so big and has so many large doors.” Seymour was fascinated and asked where Saint Hurley was. “Lost” was McHammer’s response.” “ Lost”? Seymour said. “Yes he won some money and went on a vacation and we have never seen him since...........that was three years ago” McHammer explained. “That’s terrible........didn’t anyone go in search of him”? “The town council had a meeting to consider a search party but it was voted down”. “Why”? “Well, McHammer continued,....... we all noticed that there was a lot more food available in the grocery store after he went missing. We all kind of liked it that way.” Sister Seymour was frowning at what he just heard as it seemed so unfair to the poor Saint. “Actually it was good for my business” McHammer confided. “I was able to reopen my All You Can Eat Sunday Brunch Buffet”.


Sister Seymour was scanning the contents of the Roach Coach and asked “ Is all this food then”? “Yes, mostly” McHammer acknowledged. “I have sandwiches, burgers, hot dogs, fries, chips, sodas, iced tea, lemonade, beer, would you like to see the wine list”? “And what is it you are making in the pot”? inquired Seymour as he was reaching for the pot. “YOU CAN”T TOUCH THIS”!! McHammer screamed. “It is very hot an you will burn yourself”. Sister Seymour quickly pulled his hand away and thanked McHammer for his warning. McHammer continued that the pot held the special of the day, McHammer’s Pasta Ala Carbonara. “It smells delightful” Sister Seymour purred. He then inquired as to the ingredients to which McHammer said it was a secret recipe and he was leery to share it. “Who am I going to tell?” asked the nun. “Would you like to sample it , Sister?” “Oh, thank you but I have taken a vow of poverty and therefore can’t pay you” was his reply. “That’s OK, Sister. On Tuesdays I give free samples to male nuns.” What a wonderful tradition Seymour thought. McHammer placed some of the Carbonarra on a paper plate and gave the nun a spork.. Seymour devoured the meal in seconds exclaiming enthusiastically as to how delicious it was. McHammer beamed. “See why I can’t divulge my secret recipe, Sister.” “Oh, please, please, please, pretty please, I’ll be your best friend” Seymour whined. “Oh, I guess it is OK, after all you are a nun and if you can’t trust a nun, well then, who can you trust.” McHammer proceeded to tell Seymour the recipe and all the guarded nuances of Pasta Ala Carbonarra. Sister Seymour listened intently and occasionally nodding his head or asking a question. When McHammer finished the nun thanked him profusely and swore an oath never to divulge his secret recipe. Sister Seymour took his leave and wandered off into the town.






Sister Seymour wandered away from McHammer and across the plaza he spotted a stationary store. He looked quickly over his shoulder to see if McHammer was still watching and waving good-bye. He was not as a crowd was gathering around the Roach Coach. Seymour quickly walked to the stationary store. As he was about to enter he remembered the zit and how awkward it seemed to make everyone feel so he took his veil and covered his nose and mouth so that only his eyes were visible. He entered the store and noticed there was two employees working, both female. They took one look at Seymour and threw their hands up and backed against the wall. Seymour laughed when he saw them put their hands in the air and explained “ I am forbidden to High-five much less to High-Ten”! “The money is in the drawer” one of the sale’s girls indicated with a nod. The other employee was chastising herself for being unable to reach of the silent alarm button. Seymour stated that he had taken a vow of poverty and wasn’t looking for money but rather a pencil and some scratch paper. The two sale’s girls shot looks of confusion at each other and one said “Over there at Lottery counter you will find both. Help yourself, just don’t do any thing you will regret later.” Seymour wondered to himself “How do they know I am going to rip off McHammer’s secret recipe?” He shook it off and took a couple of tiny, barely sharpened pencils and some scratch paper. “Thank you” he said as he exited the store. “Have we just been help up?” said one employee to the other. “I don’t think so” was the reply. “Everyone steals lottery pencils and scratch paper and they don’t ask”.


Seymour found a comfortable bench in an adjacent park and sat down ready to write. He struggled with his conscience for a moment since he was betraying McHammer’s confidence and knew he couldn’t share his secret recipe with the world. As he agonized over his predicament it suddenly came to him. He reasoned that if you change something about the recipe then it would be come a recipe different from McHammer’s. Therefore he would not be stabbing McHammer in the back. So Sister Seymour wrote:

GEORGE’S SPAGHETTI ALA CARBONARA

Ingredients:

6 strips of bacon {cut into 1 inch pieces}

8 thin slices of pancetta (shredded)

1 medium sized yellow onion (sliced thinly}

2/3 cup of sherry

1 stick of butter





1 pound of thin spaghetti

2 eggs

2 tablespoons of red pepper flakes

Copious amount of freshly grated Parmesan cheese


Preparation:


Fry the bacon in a large pot until it render’s its fat and the bacon is slightly crispy. Add the pancetta to the bacon and fat and fry on medium heat until crisp. Remove the bacon and pancetta to a plate. Do not drain on a paper towel! Add the onions to the fat and cook until soft and translucent. Return the bacon and pancetta along with accumulated drippings to the pot with the onions. Pour the sherry into the pot. Cook until the sherry is boiling slightly. Reduce heat to medium low and add butter. Allow it to melt slowly. Prepare spaghetti according to package instructions. When cooked drain the pasta thoroughly. Add pasta to the butter mixture and toss to combine all ingredients. Turn up the heat to medium high and break two eggs over the pasta. Toss the pasta to ensure the eggs are cooked. Add the red pepper flakes and toss the pasta. Serve immediately with a generous helping of Parmesan cheese. Serves four.

Sister Seymour sat on the bench pretty pleased with himself and his first day out of the convent. He had made a new friend in McTavish. He had helped a business man make a crucial marketing decision. Kicked the excrement out of the McNulty brothers. Visited St. Hurley’s Cathedral and met McHammer, a real live chef. The sales girls at the stationary store were also very nice and extremely helpful. Lastly, Sister Seymour had created his first recipe. He had reason to be pleased. Sister Seymour though to himself “His Undeniable Majestic Presence was in His zone and all was right with the world.

Or was it?


Sister Moonbeam sat in the convent’s secure room as instructed waiting for a classified message from “X”. The secure room was used solely for secret communications that were protected by order of the Order. It was a small windowless room made of steel and had only one iron door with a peep hole and a small sliding trap door at the bottom. The door had an intricate locking system that was designed to keep prying eyes out. Earlier in th day Sister Moonbeam had received a secret note that read:






Sister Moonbeam, Secure Room tonight, 10PM. Don’t be tardy and tell no one.

“X”





Moonbeam had received the note in the usual covert manner. It was attached to the community bulletin board next to the kitchen duty roster. Clever since every nun ignored kitchen duty if possible.

Sister Moonbeam had been waiting for about twenty minutes in deep anticipation. Every time she heard foot steps pass the door her heart almost jumped from her chest. Waiting for the small door to slide open was agonizing. Then it finally slid open and a scroll was pushed through with such force that Sister Moonbeam had to stop it with her foot. It was a simple parchment scroll secured with a small black ribbon. Moonbeam eyed the scroll and smiled. The significance of the black ribbon was not lost on her. She knew exactly what it meant. The convent had run out of red ribbons. It wasn’t the color of the ribbon that concerned her. It was the contents of the scroll she hoped would not let her down. She reached down and picked the scroll up and removed the black ribbon. Sister Moonbeam unfurled the scroll and read:


EYES ONLY

Sister Moonbeam,

Your mission, should you choose to except it, is to locate and apprehend the fugitive known as Sister Seymour. Upon apprehending Sister Seymour you are to return him to the convent for justice. Should you be unable to return him to the convent then you are hereby authorized to terminate Sister Seymour with extreme pettiness.


As always if you or any member of your team is killed or captured the administration will disavow any knowledge of your activities.

Good luck and good hunting. “X”

This scroll will destruct in five seconds.


Sister Moonbeam quickly reached for the safety goggles and adjusted them over her eyes. She held the scroll out at arms length in her left hand . She began to count. “Five Mississippi-Four Mississippi-Three Mississippi-Two Mississippi-One Mississippi” When she hit zero her right hand flew up to the scroll with blinding speed and began working in perfect coordination with her left hand as she tore the scroll to bits. Sister Moonbeam tossed the remnants of the destroyed scroll in the burn bag. “Much to do” she muttered. “I will most definitely need a team of highly skilled and motivated nuns for this operation”. Moonbeam started to mentally go down the roster of available personnel. She would definitely take Sister Alfie. Alfie wasn’t too bright but she was loyal and had an axe to grind. Sister Jones was out of the question with broken ribs . Sister Moonbeam would also choose Sister Ho for her unique skills in areas none of the other nuns could possibly compete. However, they would ultimately need muscle. Taking down Sister Seymour would not be a walk in the park. The choice to fill this position was a no- brainer. Sister Moonbeam would select the gender challenged but extremely versatile Sister Mister.

Satisfied with her choices for the team Sister Moonbeam decided to wait until morning to tell them.. She was going to allow them a good night’s sleep as they would need it. Training would be grueling. She prayed to His Undeniable Majestic Presence for strength and that none of the team would drop out during training. Time would tell. Sister Moonbeam blew out the candle that illuminated the room and sat quietly for a few moments reflecting on recent events. She started to sing in a low almost imperceptible voice:

“Bad boy, bad boy........whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do, when we come for you........bad boy, bad boy”.



TO BE CONTINUED