"Life comes hard and fast," I suggested in an attempt to make him appreciate the importance of our work--Abbie's and mine.
"And sometimes it takes us by surprise," he said.
"You took the words right out of my mouth."
"Sir?" he said and I remembered that English isn't his native tongue and he's not fully equipped with all the gags and wheezes in the language.
"I was just about to say that," I said.
"My concern," he said, "is that fighting the negative forces seems ill advised. It's well known that struggling against magic, we become more entangled."
"Ah," I said, "having found a talking point. "We do not struggle. We do not fight."
"We?" he said.
"Abbie and I," I said.
Abbie sat up to receive the recognition.
"Yes," he said in a soupy sort of voice, "the cat."
Abbie squeaked and directed one cold eye in his direction. This cat is a weapon when annoyed and channels the ancient Irish hero, Chuhulain, when in fighting mode. When one eye becomes larger than the other and steam escapes from the seams, the wise observer gets into the lead-lined jacket.
"We don't oppose the Witch of Woodcroft," I explained. "She's full of good works. She pulls the elements of decay from our environment and uses it as compost to feed a garden of wholesome and healthy delights. It's all on her website. You can read all about it at your leisure."
"I don't consider it delightful to be pulled away from very important business with the court," he said.
"Yes, I fully understand," I said. "The dross of her distillation, if it is dross, accumulates to critical mass. Then a loud report is heard and something that would rather not, pops in or pops out of one world and into another. Like you. It's all very disturbing."
"You'd go so far as that would you--disturbing? Well, what can you possibly do about it?"
"That's where our plan comes into play," I said and Abbie Hoffman, who seemed to have calmed somewhat, stopped washing a paw and gave Feldspar another warning look to make it clear that he would harbor no backtalk about cats.
"We will intercept the dross as it accumulates and replace the negative charge with a positive one--an effect greatly to be preferred because it will be healthful and enjoyable."
"How do you intercept the accumulation of dross?" he said.
"Ah, there you have me. It's something that Abbie Hoffman does but it's a trade secret and known only to him. But intercept it he does and then we use the raw material of it, he and I, to build a humorous story and then have a laugh. You can't be hurt by something that makes you smile."
"That sounds like Fierce Living," he said. "It's the solution you write about for managing runaway emotions. You're writing a book aren't' you? Is it finished?"
"Almost," I said. "Thank you for asking and yes, I am talking about Fierce Living. It works on everything. It's unbounded; it's wild and free; it's as wide as the sky and as deep as the sea. Why don't you join us, Feldspar? It will be like old times. We will make a team of three and nothing can stop us."
"Well," he said and then looking at Abbie he added, "I don't know."
Abbie sat bolt upright at this, leveled a gaze at the troll and began washing the right paw with the intention, no doubt, of being prepared to deliver another single-whip or possibly a repulse-the-monkey or a white-crane-spreads-her-wings. I'm sure you would know better than I.
Then suddenly Abbie Hoffman jumped down from the desk and approached Feldspar. I wondered if he were advancing to attack but then realized he was sniffing the chair. It was at this very moment that I noticed a distinctive odor.
"What is that smell?" I said.
"When the curtain between the worlds was rent," began Feldspar, "I was meeting with a gaggle of goblins and I fear that one of them fell through with me and I inadvertently sat on him."
"A goblin is beneath you?" I said leaning forward to get a better look.
"I'm afraid it's true," he said.
"Shouldn't you let him up?"
"On no account will I be responsible for releasing a goblin into your world. Remember the Middle Ages, sir."
"Right," I said. "So when you pop back home, he will pop back with you, is that it?"
"We can only hope, sir."
"I'm never going to get the smell out of that chair."
"I suggest burning it," he said.