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Henrig Homer

A Deleted Scene By Kamilla Reid

Henrig Homer from the fantasy adventure books, The Bone Grit Historeum

"This is a scene I deleted where I was going to have the Valador’s Rover,

Henrig Homer actually show up to meet them before being dragged off by

his…erm better half."  ~ Kamilla


A rugged looking young man in stout twilled attire worn to a dull yellow

entered briskly. He sported a short bristly moustache and thick, dirty

blond eyebrows. He threw his hand at Lian.

“Howdya do? Henrig Homer’s the name and roving’s my game!” He passed out the The Finders Book of Propriety.

“As you know, these dandies come from of the Finding Jury.”

“Oh, you’re our Rover!” Dwyn was perfectly dazzled.

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” came a woman’s nasty tone from behind the man. The Bond looked for her, but were promptly blocked by the man who crossed the threshold and shut the door.

“Well, now. The Miist of Kalliope, eh? A dandy treasure, that one!” He spoke with a disarming mix of authority and spazz.

Dwyn nodded in roused agreement and held up another strange article from the truss pack. It was a green and white striped pellet.

“Do you know what this is for?”

Henrig Homer grabbed and scrutinized the object. “It’s a Need Seed,” he said at last.

“A Need Seed?” Lian perked up, “May I?”

Homer passed the Need Seed to Lian who eagerly inspected it. “I’ve heard of them, but to actually see one… quite rare aren’t they?”

“Indeed,” Homer slid himself stiffly from the door to a nearby chair, “Rarely used.”

“Why’s that?”

“As fantastic their potential in growing whatever it is one needs, there has never been a successful ripening.”

Lian ignored Dwyn’s sudden desire to look at the seed again and carefully put it back in the truss pack.

“Ah, I see you have a universal key, too. Good, good. Always comes in handy.” Homer was now holding up a chunk of soft putty.

As fascinating as all these things were, Lian was anxious for organization. “So, we’re trying to agree on a plan of action.”

“We are supposed to go dancing!” the same female voice cried.

Homer shifted uncomfortably in his chair to a tense position and laughed.

“Get out of my way!” the woman’s voice yelled.

Suddenly Homer was flipped over despite his resistance and the Valadors were face to face with someone else altogether, presumably the woman whose voice they had heard. Henrig Homer was half man, half woman! Half very unhappy woman with a long, red evening gown and a sophisticated coif of sable locks.

From beneath her, Homer’s stifled voice could be heard. “Now, now, my little pickle, we can always go dancing next week. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity…”

“Opportunity, shmopportunity. I want to go dancing! You promised!”

Another bodily flop and Homer was once again before them offering an awkward shrug. He attempted to be discreet with the woman now, speaking through clenched teeth while maintaining a stiff smile.

“I told you we’ll go dancing when we get back. We can do all the dancing you want. We can dance for two years straight if you like!”

This time his body turned sideways exposing both sides at once. The woman put her hand on their hip and humphed. Henrig Homer chose to ignore her. He mouthed to the kids, Just never mind her. She’ll be fine, then said out loud, “Now then Bond, do you have any questions?”

Lian was the first to speak. Still very aware of the earlier debate amongst his Bondmates, he chose his words well. “We’re trying to decide whether to just plow blindly and recklessly ahead, giving no attention whatsoever to proper planning or to do the research necessary, in order to locate and follow clues that would undoubtedly lead us to the Miist of Kalliope.”

Homer’s response was passionate and formidable. “Why, you plow blindly ahead, of course! This is a race! A race to the finish! There’s no time for humming and hawing. You heard what Lord Blick said; this is your chance to shine as one of Lanlynne’s finest!”

Dwyn was absolutely elated. Root and Lian were absolutely not. It was the woman who piped up.

“Don’t be a dope, Henrig! You can’t just run somewhere and not know where you’re going! This is so like you, to just go bashing into ideas and then halfway through, realize you’re completely lost. Just like our relationship. Well, I can’t take it, anymore! I’m going to mother!”

She took a step toward the door, yanking Homer with her.

“Now, dearest…” he patronized.

“Don’t dearest me. I’m not falling for that again!”

While she yanked him from the room, they saw him mouth, It’s fine. Fine. We’ll see you tomorrow.

And they, he and/or she was gone.


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