The bottles of Athock, as discussed previously, only ever loaded at night to prevent derision, were set high upon a Monster Truck. These beverages were distilled from the Glass Half Empty of the essence of Joy in the bowels of Sheba’s distillery, near the docks of Az. Well away from the public dormitory and gaze, for safety included and privacy ignited.
The bottles, each suspended in its cushioned boudoir, were stacked and strapped upon the flat bed. Each the value of a perfect soul, two half souls, etc, a chest of pirate gold, a king’s ransom, a queens release (similar to a ransom), the GDP of a small West African republic, half a soul plus your watch and wallet or all the gold in Forty Knox.
It is a common misconception that Monster Trucks were invented and designed for people to gawp at and say Ahhh, as they bounce high over large everyday objects, without so much as a by your leave. But no, originally, deep in the depths of an century ago, they were developed to carry unstable C4 explosives and Bottles of Athok over uncharted rocky territory, dry river beds with big round stones or deep, dusty moonscapes. These uses eventually became redundant, when the larger and more successful courier services began to offer their Explosive or Embarrassing Material Delivery Service.
Sheba, including a nod to tradition, still used the Monster Truck distribution network to deliver Athok to the various alchemic institution, university campuses, hairdressing salons and industrial paint stripper specialists in the surrounding and just beyond.
Due to the astounding value contained, She Sphinx often accompanied, but it was not her favourite duty, as she was of a vicarious frame of mind, being covetous of time spent in tail care, an activity close to her heart and pride.
There had been occasions when it came time for the Monster Truck convoy to leave, the Sphinx could not be found and the Blue Woman Knight or other martial expert must replace.
This time though the Sphinx finished her tail conditioning treatment just in time and set forth along the side of the Monster Truck.
At a junction in the road, where the Monster must roll over some abandoned vehicles, there stood in the path a Great Bear wearing a red and white bandana around its snout, just below its eyes, to conceal its ident. The Bear made the Monster Truck look like a toy car, it’s sides like unto a cliff of fur flowing, her shoulders, the slopes of a mountain, with wildflowers and small creatures adorned. Her limbs, like high carved wardrobes, full of heavy robes, fringes of claws parceled in groups, like knives the size of plough shares, furrowing the dust at the crossroads. But the Bear’s ears were no bigger than a pair of pin cushions.
The Sphinx laughed, Even your distant relatives would recognise you, what is the point? Take low your disguise and let us forego the pleasantries and half-truths, she said, sitting with her tail resting upon her paws to avoid the dust, You are here to make robberies of our valuables I expect.
How did you know? said the Great Bear, You’ll have to speak up as my ears are relatively small.
I can see things, said she Sphinx, I am not wise beyond my tears, but then my tears are an ocean, let us get to it, is this a bargain situation or an arm wrestle? Will there be claws involved?
I am tasked with diverting a truck of explosive, sans paiment, spoke the Bear, as I have none. We must enter explosively where we are not wanted, for the revival of our porridge stocks, which have been stolen and placed in Forty Knox, in the space between the stacked gold bars. Once we had sufficient porridge until an person known Longy Locks came in our house and stole the porridge away, after tasting. It is very good porridge.
Could she not go to the shops and buy some of her own? Asked She Sphinx.
I cannot speak one hundred percent to her motivation, said the Bear, only report her actions and the consequences. My partner and small young bear are going hungry. I have heard that Locks may be the envoy and practitioner of a consortium that wishes to control the trade of porridge, and, in the form of a cartel, hike the prices artificially.
Huh, said Sphinx and signalled the monster truck driver to switch to silent mode.
So, if you were to come by a truck load of explosives, would you then breach the fortified walls and gates of Forty Knox to undo this unjust injustice, would that be near or there abouts?
It would be right on the money, said the Bear.
As I am now become a participant in the affairs of humans. A far cry, I might add, from my former character as a purveyor of chaos and trickery. I shall aid you in this worthy endeavour. Unfortunately this particular Monster Truck only contains palanquins of Glass Half Empty, which can neither break down walls, nor subdue the guards. Luckily, I am in a position to facilitate your entry with my paws of chaos, if that is your wish.
That is music, said the Bear, a veritable symphony. If you can bring about said break in, I shall tell you the secret recipe, handed down from bear to bear, this hundred generations.
I thought all porridge was the same, said she Sphinx, a sort of grainy rubbery stuff, sometimes adrift in a sea of milk and occasionally disguised by fruit compote with honey or sugar cane derivatives. Excellent fair for fly away children or shivering shepherds, but by no means the gourmet option.
You have it rump about snout, said the Bear, Porridge is the peak, the pinnacle, the Everest of edible delights. The texture, nutty grain flavour and warming glow are unsurpassed in the culinary world. Only the coffee éclair can claim to rival the morning bowl of porridge.
I shall have to take your word, said the Sphinx, I myself are made of stone for many thousand and do not partake. I am fuelled essentially by solar winds and stray neutrons, the flavours of which are subtle to say the least.
The Monster Truck was sent upon its journey alone, carrying multiple verbal threats.
The Sphinx and Bear set forth upon their quest to liberate the Porridge and destroy once and forever the power of cartels and question some questionable pillars of capitalism.
Your tail is passing fair, said the Bear as they began.
I was beginning to think that you hadn’t noticed, replied she Sphinx.
The Guardians of the Cave 