Teaser 028: Birth of Lord Pacifico


As we walked side by side out the hall, into the Great Room hall, I counted the steps to the big bathroom. It was eighteen paces. I stopped and Serena immediately stopped with me. “What's wrong?”

“Eighteen. This bathroom's closer.”

“I'd rather you use the other bathroom and not this one.”

“Is this the bathroom you use for the special Hollywood parties you throw in the big shower?”

Serena stared blankly at me for a moment. “Yes.”

“And I'm not special enough to use the shower, am I?”

Serena looked me up and down. “No. You're not special enough.”

“You take wicked pleasure in crushing a man's ego, don't you?”

I could see her suppressing a smile. “I live for it,” she responded calmly, trying to look mean, which she can do easily with her acting training.

I narrowed my eyes for battle. “You leave me no choice, little girl. I'll have to pull out the big guns now as my last resort.”

Serena crossed her arms and stared unrelenting and unimpressed. “What would that be, little boy?”

I turned to face the Great Room and walked briskly. “Let's party!” The others in the Great Room were mingling and turned toward me as I approached. I created Lord Pacifico in this moment. “My good friends! You see, I have returned from the great hunting expedition. I have missed you all so terribly, and I couldn't bring myself to shoot the rhino, so let's celebrate my return. The natives simply do not know how to party out in the bush. So pedestrian! And I believe I have a beer in here with my name on it.”

Will glanced at the table next to my chair. “Over there, Pacifico.”

I reached the beer, proclaiming, “Perfect!” I grabbed the bottle and guzzled some brew and turned to see Serena following slowly, still with her arms crossed. “I bear bad news my friends. I will not be able to party with you in the big shower. It has been deemed off limits to me by our hostess.” I nodded to Serena who was frowning. “However, never let it be said Lord Pacifico, Pacifico will do, is not resourceful. We shall have music, drink, all manner of drugs and smoke, needles by special request, and we shall dance the night away, my friends, so let's get to it.”

Ken smiled while shaking his head. “Needles by special request?”

“Serena, my dear, this man requires needles!”

While the laughter subsided, even Serena smiled as she came closer, finally putting her arms at her sides. “The show never ends with you, does it, Lord Pacifico?”

I shook my head. “Ah, Serena, how quickly you forget while I'm away on expedition. You know I go up and down, up and down. You've known all these years I'm manic-depressive, as measured in hours, but I have always kept it under control through my medicine of choice.” I downed the last of the beer. “And it appears I shall have to refill my prescription.”

Drake wouldn't let me leave for the kitchen. “So, Pacifico, you are manic-depressive, what they call bi-polar now?”

“Ah, Sir Drake, leave it to the medical muckety-mucks to fuck up a perfectly descriptive phrase which explains it all and change it to something which has no relevance whatsoever. Bi-polar disorder? Really? Are there poles in my brain I don't know about? Perhaps we should move the party in here,” and I pretended to lift my skull, “and we shall all dance around said poles. Come! There's room for all. Or, hasn't this day been manic enough? The signs have been ever present, wouldn't you agree, Sir Drake?”

Will looked at me thoughtfully. “When can we expect to witness the down part, the depression?”

“Sir William has submitted a very probing inquiry, yet, the down part, as you call it, the depression, is rare indeed. Though you should hope you never witness it.”

“Great!” Serena exclaimed loudly. “You also need a psychiatrist or psychologist or both along with everything else.”

“My friends, my friends, my friends...through my years of self-imposed exile, in real world purgatory, I have had countless occasions to collaborate with the multitude, and, yes, some of those poor souls had chance to witness the dark episodes. Those moments were, for them, anything but pleasant, and I can assure you they were not pleasant for me. Through those years I have consulted with physicians and been offered various concoctions. 'Take this, brother. May it serve you well. But come back soon, for you shall build up a tolerance, and then you'll take this, and later this, and you shall always be taking some concoction, and we have no idea what shall happen to the mania side. Perhaps it will move to Madagascar.' And, so, my fine fellow, ye noted physician, I can eat of this concoction and, perhaps, become a shell of a man, all to protect myself from a small number of episodes, two or three or four, in any year, and lose the manic one in the process. What a wonderful life that would be! And such fun too! So, my friends, I chose nothing. I have dealt with it in the past. I shall deal with it in the future, but my immediate future calls for music, my dear Serena. So, I beg of you, let us have music, and not that country and western rubbish. It's so bloody awful!” There were smiles all around but I wanted confirmation. I caught Ken's gaze. “Sir Ken, have I satisfied your concerns or curiosity and have I rescued myself from the abyss yet again?”

Ken smiled briefly. “You do have a way with you, Lord Pacifico, but I know people who suffer from depression and it's not fun. I hope I never see it from you.”

“And in all likelihood you never shall.”


- Just Desserts, Segment ThreeA Taste of Mexican Hospitality” by Gregory R. Schussele, © 2021

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