Tales of Portabella

Tales Of Portabella
Episode One: “SHERIF DAY”
(click on a link to be taken to the character’s page on the Wiki!)

	“I knew the minute you got promoted that you were something special, but five years?” The gray-haired Goomba shook his head in disbelief. “Color me impressed.”
	“I’m just as surprised as you, Goomber.” said Linda, giving her lieutenant a warm smile, before turning to face the rest of the room. “And really, guys, you didn’t have to go through all this trouble just for me.”
	The break room, almost as humble as Linda T. herself, had been draped in tissue paper ribbons and homemade decorations, including a banner that read “HAPPY 5 YEARS OF BEING SHERIFF, LINDA T!”. The letters of the last few words were all squished together, implying that whoever designed it clearly hadn’t planned ahead. The tables were covered in cups of hot coffee as well as trays of Koopa Buns and Nutty Cakes. Officers sat, enjoying the refreshments and offering their congratulations to Linda.
	“Don’t sweat it, Miss T!” said Burke, a Bob-Omb desk worker holding a half-eaten Fireball Bar. “A party’s always worth the trouble, as long as everyone’s having fun!”
	“...Thanks, everybody. I really don’t know what I’d do without you guys.” The Toad blushed, taking a sip of coffee. She looked around at all the officers and workers that were either chatting away with each other or looking at her in awe and respect. She really had a sort of family among everyone here at the Portabella Outpost Police Station, and it was when everyone was together and not making a fuss about something that Linda enjoyed her job the most. She turned to Goomber to say something, only to see his face scrunched up in concentration.
	“Something wrong, Goomber?” Linda tilted her head to the side, curious.
	The Goomba was sniffing something, his frayed mustache quivering. “Do you smell that?”
	Linda took a sniff, trying to pick up what Goomber had. “...Yeah, I think so. Almost smells like...smoke?”
	Before she could investigate further, the door to the rec room swung open. In bounced Lint, a rookie Fuzzy officer, panting like crazy. The tip of his hat was singed, smoke rising from it. His eyes were wide, even more bugged than usual.
	“Miss T! Miss T!” he chipped, his tongue hanging out like a tired Gulpit. “You gotta *huff* you gotta come out and see this!”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“What in the blazes?”
The east wall of the police station, usually bare, had been turned into a pyrotechnic display. Roman candles were taped to the wooden wall and then lit, their payload firing with a shower of sparks. Nothing was actually on fire, thank goodness, but the tips of the candles were leaving burn marks on the planks of the wall. Linda stared at it in disbelief for a moment, before her eyes fell at an all-too familiar figure standing in front of the fracas.
“Yippee!” A Bandit, his facemask lit up with a look of wonder (as well as the flares from the candles), was sitting on the ground, waving his arms and legs with excitement. The traffic cone sitting atop his head shook along with him, threatening to fall off if he got too carried away. He turned to face the bewildered Toad, smiling. “Look what I done made for you, Miss Linda!”
Linda’s face turned from shock to stern disapproval. “Denim Joe, you get away from that wall this instant!” She marched over to him, her footsteps kicking up inordinate amounts of dust. “Will somebody get the gall-darned firehose over here?”
“On it!” Lint hopped over to the pipe that connected to a hose on the far side of the wall, and began to turn the spigot.
“What? What did I...” The gears in Denim Joe’s head turned and grinded to interpret Linda’s mood before coming to a conclusion. “Oh...I did something bad again, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you did, Joe.” Linda put her face in her palm, trying to calm herself down. And her day was going so well... “You really have to be careful with these things. You could have set something on fire, or really hurt someone.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Linda! Honest!” Joe wailed, nearly on the verge of tears. “I never meaned to hurt anybody, I swears it!”
“I know you don’t mean to, buddy. You never do. And I appreciate that.” Linda grew a little less tense as she gave a variation of her usual monologue. “You just have to learn to think a little before doing these sorts of things, okay? Try to think about the consequences...”
Halfway through her sentence, Linda turned to see the state of the wall. Lint had hosed down virtually all of the candles, which had exchanged their flurry of sparks for thin trails of smoke. Burn marks were left on the wall, but only then did Linda notice the shape they were in. “HAPY SHERIF DAY” was now messily scrawled in blackened wood, with the outline of a mushroom plastered below it.
“Oh, Joe,” Linda sighed, a wave of sympathy flowing over her. “That...that was really sweet of you.”
“Thanks, Miss Linda, but...I guess I done ruined your day now, didn’t I?” Denim Joe wore a humongous frown in his face, one that would have been comical if Linda didn’t know he was being completely serious.
“No, it’s fine. I’m really happy that you thought to give me a present.” Linda smiled, genuinely thankful for the Bandit’s gesture. “Tell you what. I have an idea on how you can make it up to me.”
“Huh?” Denim Joe sniffed up a tear and looked at Linda, who now wore a friendly smirk. “How?”
“Last I heard, your buddy Brick was gonna be in a rodeo show tonight. I was planning on going myself, but perhaps you’d like to treat me?” She gave a coy simper.
“Uh...” Denim Joe nearly froze, his mind rushing to keep up. “Sure thing, Miss Linda! I promise to be on my best be-hay-vor!” His famous smile returned to his facemask. “ You won’t regret it!”



	*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

	“You’re going to regret this.” Bandaniel’s raspy voice penetrated his bandana and filled the air of Linda’s office. “You’re being completely irrational. Going on a date with a criminal.”
	“For the last time, Denim Joe is not a criminal!” Linda scowled, sitting in her chair with her feet up on her desk. She glared at the dusty Boo, his spectre floating in the middle of the room. “And it isn’t a date! I just wanted to cheer him up and thank him for his gift, is all.”
	“He’s too cheery for our own good. He’s dangerous. He belongs in a cell. Why isn’t he in one?” Bandaniel turned to face Linda without flourish. “You’ve apprehended him exactly 256 times. You should realize by now that he’s a threat to Portabella Outpost’s security and needs to be locked away.”
	“And you should realize by now that it’s not gonna happen.” Linda took her feet off the desk so she could look Bandaniel square in the glowy eye. “He always apologizes and pays his fines in full, and he never seriously hurts anyone. If you want to talk about how terrible he is, go pay Logan a visit. I’d be darned if he wouldn’t share your sentiments.”
	“Sheriff Blooperton would have tied Joe up and tossed him in the mine shaft. And he was only on the job for three years.”
	Linda was about to reply when she stopped herself and narrowed her eyes. “Huh. Do you even know what day it is? I mean, I wasn’t expecting you to say anything about it.”
	“I’m aware that you think it’s your five-year anniversary as sheriff,” reprimanded the Boo, straightening his hat. “but you’ve only been sheriff for 1,273 of those days. On the other 553, your decisions and actions have been so reprehensible that I haven’t counted them as days that were spent on the job. Including this one.”
	Linda scoffed, in disbelief at his flippancy. “I don’t have time for your lip. I gotta get ready.” She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a plastic remote with a dial on it.
	“Don’t you dare-” Bandaniel lunged toward her, his eyes glowing angrily, before she turned the dial all the way around. The fan on the table opposite her desk began to turn with full force, and the gust of air whipped at the Boo until he had dissipated from the room completely.
	“You haven’t heard the end of this.” he mumbled, as his voice trailed off.
	Linda slumped back into her chair in frustration. “Don’t I know it.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

	“BRIIIIIIICK!”
	Denim Joe swung open the door to the two-room shack, which he shared with his blue Cleft buddy. “Where are ya, hardhead? I gots something I wants to tell ya!”
	After a few seconds, Brick slowly walked through the doorframe leading to the far room. His eyes fell on Joe, and a small smile crept its way onto his rocky face. “Hello. What...what’s up?” he said, his words coming at a speed that would make people think he was wearing a Slow Go badge.
	“Well, I already told you I was comin’ to your rodeo tonight, but I gots an update on the sitchoo-ashun: now I’m going with a somebody!” Joe beamed, happy that he was sharing this good news with his best friend.
	Brick smiled, his face portraying his emotions better than his words could. “Oh. Girl?” He tilted his head on one foot to imply that he was asking a question.
	Denim Joe grinned, then stuck his lower jaw out and began an exaggerated impression of Brick’s face and speech. “Yes. Me bring girl. We go rodeo together!” Joe laughed at his own routine, while Brick tried to hold back a snicker.
	“Who?” Brick asked, for clarification. “Cousin? Sister? L-lady friend?”
	“Oh, I ain’t tellin ya now, silly! It’s a surprise!” Joe gave Brick a small flick on the head, which didn’t really accomplish much due to his rock-hard skin, but Brick got the sentiment and gave a short, low laugh. “You’ll find out when we’re in the first row tonight, cheering for the best gol-durned Bully rider in the world!”
“Okay. See...see you then.” Brick walked over to his corner of the first room to begin his careful, slow preparations for the rodeo.
Joe rushed into the far room, muttering to himself as he ran. “I gotta look my best tonight...make sure my hat is all shiny...maybe I’ll even take a shower...”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
	“You know, I heard the darndest thing the other day.” Greg Frostbite reclined on the edge of the bar as he poured a glass of Sarsaparilla Soda for a sleepy-eyed Goomba sitting at a stool. “You know that Yoshi girl that runs the corral across town? Word on the street is, she isn’t from around here.” He topped off the soda and passed it to the Goomba, who was listening to Greg’s story with slight interest. “Some people are saying she came here from the city, others are saying she’s from Fahr Fahr Outpost! I thought only Bob-Ombs lived there, but you never know, right?” The Goomba nodded ever so slightly as he sipped at his soda. “I dunno, maybe I’ll ask her if she ever drops by. I do hope I don’t offend her, though...”
	Suddenly a large CLUNK! was heard from the other side of the bar counter, followed by a nasal, whiny voice. “Frosty! I’m all outta Snazaroo Soda. How do you plan on fixing that, buddy?” A pale green Lakitu with a too-tall ten-gallon began to slowly push the glass across the wooden counter, threatening to knock it off if it wasn’t swiftly refilled. “I’m thiiiiiiiirstyyyy:..I’m thiiiiiiiiiiirstyyyyyyy”
	“Speaking of offending people...” Greg grimaced as he walked over to the all-too-familiar customer. “Wait just a second, Ladybug Logan. You’ll be chugging down that dreck again in just a minute.”
	“Wait just a second, Ladybug Logan!” Logan chided in a high voice, badly mimicking the Flurry bartender. “Though I told y’all never to call me by that name. And how dare you call Snazaroo Soda ‘dreck’!” He held up his empty glass with one hand, swirling around the tiny drops that still resided at the bottom. “How can you call a soda that is so perfect, so bubbly, so sweet, so perfect, so deep, so rich, and so perfect something so horrible as ‘dreck’!?!?! If anything, you should be talking down that sarsaparilla sludge you can’t seem to stop making. Tastes like the bad end of a sewer pipe leadin’ out of Toad Town.”
	Greg fumed, smoke almost coming out of his ears. “Well, if you want a refill, that’ll be 5 coins for your bill.”
	Logan turned to Greg and gave a smile that wouldn’t look out of place on a Klap Trap. “Hey, guy. You know me. My parents, they are absolutely LOADED. I’ll slip the bill over to them and they’ll have it paid before you can blink an eye.” He grinned, almost trying to make his teeth catch the light and gleam.
	Greg’s face began to shake ever so slightly as he mustered up all of his self-control. “Of course. I’ll get right on it.” He swiped the cup from Logan’s clammy fingers and set it under the tap. He knew that blowing up in front of Logan’s face wouldn’t have any positive effect whatsoever. The insufferable Lakitu was one of those fellas that are just so downright unpleasant that they make other people behave better just so they can be the bigger man. No right-minded person would ever act like a jerk to Logan, out of fear for stooping to his level. Unfortunately, this meant that he would keep on acting like a jerk. But someday, Greg thought to himself, someday he would find a loophole. He would put Logan in his place while still retaining the moral high ground. He would kick him out of his bar, and eliminate the dreaded Snazaroo Soda from his menu. And he would...
	“HEY! Hey, Snowman! Watch the nectar!” Greg was shaken out of his revenge fantasy by Logan’s voice, and noticed that the glass had begun to overflow, spilling soda all over the floor. “I swear to Jaydes, it’s like they need to put you in a padded room.”
	Greg twirled around, allowing himself to frown disdainfully in Logan’s face, before slamming the full glass in front of Logan and watching in disgust as he began to noisily slurp it down.
	“Ahh...that’s the good stuff, you know what I mean? I swear, I would use this stuff as mouthwash if other people would appreciate its succulent aroma.” Suddenly, he slammed down his cup, as an exaggerated look of realization came onto his face. “That reminds me! I gotta spruce later today;  I’m gonna stop by the police station today and pay little Linda a visit. I’ll surprise her so much, she’ll think it was a special occasion, or something.”
	“Well, good luck with that.” Greg muttered, secretly ecstatic that he was about to drop a gossip-bomb on his sworn enemy. “I hear she’s getting ready for a rodeo date with Denim Joe.”
	Almost instantaneously, Logan sprayed a mouthful of soda all over Greg’s face. “WHAT!?!?!?! Whaddya mean, a date? She’s wasting her time with that no-good, happy-go-lucky hillbilly? That rotten, two-bit son-of-a-Whacka?” His face contorted in anger and hatred. “Why, I oughta...I oughta...I oughta knock his block off!”
	“You oughta knock his block off?” Greg mused, feigning interest.
	“I oughta knock his block off!” Logan exclaimed, putting both his hands on the counter and raising himself off of his stool.
	“You oughta knock his block off?” the Goomba said, half-asleep.
	“I OUGHTA KNOCK HIS FLIPPIN’ BLOCK RIGHT OFF HIS STUPID HEAD!!!!” Logan leapt out of his stool and dashed out the door to the bar before hopping on his dusty riding cloud and speeding away.
	The Goomba smiled, not entirely sure of what had just happened, turned to Greg and gave a drowsy smile. “Kid’s funny, isn’t he?”
	Greg gritted his teeth.”Yeah,” he spat, aggressively wringing out his bar rag over a sink, squeezing every last drop out of it. “He’s hilarious.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*