Turks & Caicos: Part One

The following takes place following: Shamefur Dispray

Master Devlin and Travers arrive at the Master’s secluded beachside cottage in the Turks & Caicos. The salty breeze drifts in from the ocean as the sun begins to set. The Master rummages through a cupboard and produces a dusty bottle of aged rum and two Cuban cigars. He offers them to Travers, and the two settle on the porch, drinks in hand, watching the waves roll in.

Travers: Yes, Master Devlin, this is a damn fine little holiday home you have here. Damn fine indeed. Much like those bathing beauties over yonder.

Master Devlin: Yes indeed, thank you, Travers. Now, I must remind you—not every girl here is just up for it. I don’t want you getting arrested again. There are... specific spots I can take you to. You might be able to get an oil change there.

Travers: Well, I suppose I should at least try to be faithful to my wife—Wow! Look at those cans...

Devlin turns to see Travers holding two tin cans connected by string.

Travers: So this is one of those old-timey telephones, huh?

Master Devlin: Umm, yes, I suppose it is. Where did you get that?

Travers: It was just sitting here... Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah. Thank you for the offer, but for now, I'm just here to relax with my new best friend. Hopefully, no more assassins will show up.

Master Devlin: Well, the Editor knows we’re here. Unfortunately, he doesn’t like us sitting around doing nothing. Be prepared—he might send the Goblin Slayer for you. Apart from the Editor, no one else knows we’re here. But he may inform some... unsavoury characters.

Travers: Ed does like to meddle in mysterious ways. Though I thought I heard him say he was also taking a holiday, and that the co-editor guy was in charge of the holiday adventures plot... I’m not sure what any of that means, of course.

Without warning, Travers removes his moustache and glares madly at the Master.

Waldo declares that the Master is a "slam pig!”

He then calmly returns to his seat and reattaches the moustache.

Travers looks momentarily disoriented, then shrugs it off and takes a puff of his cigar.

Master Devlin: I’m sorry, Travers, did you say something?

Travers: No. I don’t think so.

Master Devlin: I could’ve sworn you did?

Travers: You look troubled, Master Devlin. Are you not enjoying the relaxation? I imagine you’re not used to the peace and quiet.

Master Devlin: No... no, I feel off. You’re right. I think I need to relax.

Travers suddenly eyes his cigar suspiciously.

Travers: Master Devlin...

Master Devlin: Yes?

Travers: I’m going to ask you this one time... Have any of these cigars been in your bottom?

Master Devlin: ...No. Absolutely not.

Travers: ...Why was there a pause??

Master Devlin: I’m appalled you’d even ask.

Travers: Hmm. I see. I thought perhaps you’d been poisoned.

Master Devlin: Excuse me a moment.

The Master walks down to the beach and exchanges words with a local man. He returns with a pouch containing a sticky green herb. He grinds it up, packs it into a bong, and takes a heavy hit.

Travers: 🤨

The Master offers the bong to Travers.

Travers: Uh... no. No thank you, Master Devlin. Travers doesn’t partake in that kind of thing.

Master Devlin: You sure? You are on holiday.

Travers: Quite sure. Travers’ body is a temple—and it’s never on holiday.

Master Devlin: Oh. I see... Widdle Frunkut is quite the junkie, you know.

Travers: Only coke, to my knowledge. He’s never been a pothead.

Master Devlin: Oh.

The Master grins, dazed and content.

Travers: Excuse me, Master Devlin. I need to go outside. Get some fresh air.

Master Devlin: Whu... whu... who... what? We’re on the porch. We are outside...

Travers: Yeah yeah, sure, whatever.

Uncomfortable with the haze of smoke, Travers wanders down to the beach and sits in the sand.

Back on the porch, the Editor materialises beside the Master, keeping a distance.

Ed: Travers is disappointed in the Master. He didn’t expect this kind of behaviour.

Master Devlin: Travers is a disgusting sex fiend, and yet he’s disappointed the Master has partaken in some R&R.

Ed: Yes. Correct. It’s a nasty habit—looked down upon in Waldonian culture.

Master Devlin: Yes, well. We are in the Turks and Caicos. The holiday arc, miniseries, etc. Besides, it’s probably safer than the cigars and rum Travers was partaking in.

Ed: So they were up your bum!

Master Devlin: ...

Ed: You’re a disgrace. Also—you can take the goblin out of Waldonia, but you can’t take Waldonia out of the goblin.

Master Devlin: Uh huh... 🤨 ... Right.

The Master calls down to the beach.

Master Devlin: Hey Travers! Dinner?

Travers: Sure!

****

The Master and Travers stroll into a nearby restaurant. They are greeted by the head waiter, Luciano.

Luciano: Master Devlin! How wonderful to see you again. Your usual table?

Master Devlin: Hello, Luciano. Yes, please—and I also have a guest this evening. Meet Harris Travers—lawyer and scoundrel.

Travers: And Waldonian national treasure! Hey there, pal. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Y’know, I represented some dago goomba named Luciano once... He’s currently serving a life sentence.

The Master and Luciano—who is clearly Black—exchange puzzled looks.

Luciano: Uh... so, how about the lobster this evening?

Master Devlin: Splendid. Travers?

Travers removes his moustache again.

wF: Noooooooo, Master Devlin. No lobster. That’s practically cannibalism. Goblin don’t dine on thine brethren.

The moustache goes back on.

Travers: Uh...Whuh? Um.. I’ll have a Coke and the uh, chicken and...c

Luciano: Chicken and collard greens?

Travers: Chicken and what??

Luciano: Collard greens.

Travers: I uhh... ha... I uh, I don’t... I don’t know what that is... But I never—I mean never—eat anything green!

Without removing his moustache, Travers shifts into Waldo mode.

wF: ESPECIALLY NEGRO FOOD!

Samuel: That’s right! No black greens. Not never.

Travers: Huh...Excuse me... I seem to be experiencing brain fog... Can I just have some fried chicken please? Nothing else. I only eat huhwite meat...

Master Devlin: Apologies, Luciano. He suffers from old-timey racism. He has no filter. Also... there are multiple personalities. Totally understand if you wish to spit in his food.

Luciano: No, Master Devlin. That will not be necessary. How about a bottle of the Aloxe-Corton ‘65?

Master Devlin: Delightful.

Luciano walks away.

Master Devlin: Travers, do you really have to be this repulsive?

Travers: What did I do?

Master Devlin: You were rude about the—(whispers)—black food.

Travers: I was?? Oh. I’m sorry. I don’t remember. I must admit I’m feeling a little out of sorts... I think it’s the second-hand fumes from your R&R.

Master Devlin: Preposterous... But never mind... Ah!

A young waitress arrives with Travers’ Coke and the Master’s bottle of wine, pouring a glass.

Travers grabs the wine and gulps it.

Travers: What the hell is that...?

Master Devlin: My red wine.

Travers: Excuse me, miss.

Waitress: Yes?

Travers: This wine is corked.

Waitress: Oh really?

Travers: Yeah. Plus it appears to have been sitting around since 1765... Are you trying to poison my associate?

Waitress: Sorry, sir. I’ll get another bottle.

Master Devlin: It’s fine. The bottle’s just corked.

Travers: What? That’s not a screwdriver! There’s no orange juice in there.

Waitress: ...

Travers: Want some Coke?

Master Devlin: Travers, what’s wrong with you? What are you babbling about?

Travers: You shouldn’t have to put up with this terrible service.

Samuel: Black service!

Waitress: I... uh...

Samuel: Which is to say, no service at all. Only crimes!

Travers: Huh? Where was I? Oh yeah—stay outta my booze, lady.

Waitress: ...

Master Devlin: I’m terribly sorry, miss. He isn’t well... I’ll take another bottle, please.

Travers: Now miss. It’s quite warm here...

Waitress: I’m afraid I can’t do much about that, sir. As you can see, we’re already outside.

Travers: Oh I’m not worried about me. It’s you... Don’t you think you’d be more comfortable without your top? Let those things breathe.

Waitress: No, I’m fine thank you. I’m not warm at all. It’s quite cool today, I find.

Travers: Oh I see. Excuse me—I’m from Waldonia. It’s much colder there. Also, we don’t get a lot of sun... But that’s fair. I understand, and I respect that. So how about this—I give you this here $50 and you lose the top?

Waitress: No thank you. I’ll go get your wine, sir.

Master Devlin: I am astounded, Travers. Do you have no shame at all?

Soon, Luciano returns with the wine.

Travers: Luciano... your waitress isn’t the most accommodating.

Luciano: Is that because she refused when you tried to pay her to remove her top?

Travers: Yes, exactly. A Nubian goddess like that shouldn’t cover up. Frankly, I shouldn’t even have to pay! It should be part of the service.

Luciano: Sir, if you don’t calm down, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. This isn’t Hooters.

Travers: I am calm, Lucy. Or at least I was... The service here... First you screw up my screwdriver. Then you try to poison the Master. Then the lady won’t take off her top... Just absurd. And where’s my chicken?

Master Devlin: Travers, you are ruining our lovely evening.

Travers: I don’t mean to, Master Devlin... but what’s a goblin to do?

The Master sighs and steps away to have a quiet word with Luciano.

Season 4 continues in Turks & Caicos: Part Two