CALLING ALL CARS
“Ruling the world is a cakewalk behind the wheel of your brand new Illuminati”
Treeder’s artificial heart was synchronizing perfectly. There was nothing like a crisis to make him right as rain.
“Come on Jack we've got to get out of here… and grip a six of the bull on your way.”
“Got it baby. How far to the portal?”
“It’s in the City Park parking lot… not far. Hurry”
“What’s the rush doll face?”
Jack and Ericka make like ferrets down the stairs of Ericka’s apartment and across the street into City Park.
“Don’t stare, but the three guys on the bench feeding those ducks are shadowing us.” Ericka said in a winded voice. Jack glanced back at the three men on the bench. He sensed that he had seen them before. They look so familiar he thought.
“You’re kidding me Ericka. What the hell are Einstein, Kurt Vonnegut and Mark Twain shadowing us for, and more importantly why am I running with this six pack of malt liquor?”
The three old men all put down their newspapers simultaneously and stand up from the park bench.
“Please Jack! We can play twenty questions when we get to the bar.”
“Exactly, when did @11 become BYOB?”
“What about twenty questions didn’t you understand? I see the portal Jack, hurry!”
Jack could hear footsteps coming up behind him and fast. “For old dead guys, they sure can make with the hoof hoof” Ericka quickly unlocks the door to a 1967 white VW bug.
“Nice car, Ericka.”
“I don’t think Vonnegut’s dead.” Ericka replies.
“Really? I’m almost sure he is.”
“No really, he’s alive. I’m fairly certain that he’s still with us. Get in, quick!” She swings open the door and Treeder jumps in.
“Go, Go, Go!”
The three old men begin pounding on the windows, hood, and doors. Ericka shoves her keys in the ignition, gives a twist and time flickers like a broken strobe light.
Meanwhile @11 the absence of time begins to flicker and pulse like a broken strobe light.
A white 1967 VW bug fades into the parking lot @11.
“We made it” Ericka says regaining her feminine composure and charm.
“Listen doll face, now we play twenty questions.”
“Huh, did you say something Jack?” Ericka’s attention was focused on the brand new stylish black Illuminati parked two slots down the lot.
“Wow, I have never seen one up close. It’s gorgeous.” Drool was collecting at the corners Ms. Marzels engorged red lips.
“I can smell that new world odor from here. It’s lovely. Can you smell it, Jack?”
“Enough with the car already I’ve got questions. I want answers and I want them now.
What’s with two famous dead guys and one famous nearly dead guy chasing us through City Park?
What’s with the malt liquor and BYOB @11?
What’s with you conspiring with Turin?
What’s up with SkyFox?
Damn your right I can smell it. That new world odor is nice!”
Treeder and Marzel walk into the bar @11.
The effect of blasting (A transtemporal hangover which feels similar to the moment just following a hard sneeze) was finally catching up with Treeder. He puts his face down onto the cold metal bar.
“You OK Jack”
“Yeah, just a bit tingly, I’ll be alright” he says not lifting his head off the bar
Turin walks over from the Jukebox and lays a crinkled ball of cocktail napkin in front of Ericka and quickly walks out of the bar.
“Thanx” she says too late for Turin to hear as the saloon doors swing shut behind him.
“Well Jack, this is it. This is the moment that we have been waiting for.” As she unfolds the napkin and reads its ink soaked wisdom,
the bartender asks “can I get you folks anything before the entertainment starts?”
Just as Treeder begins to speak, Ericka shoves the cocktail napkin into his open mouth.
“Yes, two please” she says in her most cutesy pie voice.
Quickly turning towards Treeder with an abrupt change in tone she says, “Swallow it, Jack! All of it. Now!”
Jack leaned up from the bar with his mouth full of napkin, nearly choking with half his face red and flat from being pressed to bar. “uhh um awat vlid jus ney”
“Swallow, then talk baby”
The Bartender sidles back with the drinks and Jack begins gulping it down, trying to get the napkin soggy enough to swallow.
Slightly coughing, “Jesus! Please never, never, do that again.”
“Allergic to napkins, Jack? You could just consider it a sort of mini crisis?”
Doing just that, Jack felt a bit better.
“Now what were you trying to say, Jack?”
Continued in "GIVING THE PSYCHIC FINGER"
Treeder’s artificial heart was synchronizing perfectly. There was nothing like a crisis to make him right as rain.
“Come on Jack we've got to get out of here… and grip a six of the bull on your way.”
“Got it baby. How far to the portal?”
“It’s in the City Park parking lot… not far. Hurry”
“What’s the rush doll face?”
Jack and Ericka make like ferrets down the stairs of Ericka’s apartment and across the street into City Park.
“Don’t stare, but the three guys on the bench feeding those ducks are shadowing us.” Ericka said in a winded voice. Jack glanced back at the three men on the bench. He sensed that he had seen them before. They look so familiar he thought.
“You’re kidding me Ericka. What the hell are Einstein, Kurt Vonnegut and Mark Twain shadowing us for, and more importantly why am I running with this six pack of malt liquor?”
The three old men all put down their newspapers simultaneously and stand up from the park bench.
“Please Jack! We can play twenty questions when we get to the bar.”
“Exactly, when did @11 become BYOB?”
“What about twenty questions didn’t you understand? I see the portal Jack, hurry!”
Jack could hear footsteps coming up behind him and fast. “For old dead guys, they sure can make with the hoof hoof” Ericka quickly unlocks the door to a 1967 white VW bug.
“Nice car, Ericka.”
“I don’t think Vonnegut’s dead.” Ericka replies.
“Really? I’m almost sure he is.”
“No really, he’s alive. I’m fairly certain that he’s still with us. Get in, quick!” She swings open the door and Treeder jumps in.
“Go, Go, Go!”
The three old men begin pounding on the windows, hood, and doors. Ericka shoves her keys in the ignition, gives a twist and time flickers like a broken strobe light.
Meanwhile @11 the absence of time begins to flicker and pulse like a broken strobe light.
A white 1967 VW bug fades into the parking lot @11.
“We made it” Ericka says regaining her feminine composure and charm.
“Listen doll face, now we play twenty questions.”
“Huh, did you say something Jack?” Ericka’s attention was focused on the brand new stylish black Illuminati parked two slots down the lot.
“Wow, I have never seen one up close. It’s gorgeous.” Drool was collecting at the corners Ms. Marzels engorged red lips.
“I can smell that new world odor from here. It’s lovely. Can you smell it, Jack?”
“Enough with the car already I’ve got questions. I want answers and I want them now.
What’s with two famous dead guys and one famous nearly dead guy chasing us through City Park?
What’s with the malt liquor and BYOB @11?
What’s with you conspiring with Turin?
What’s up with SkyFox?
Damn your right I can smell it. That new world odor is nice!”
Treeder and Marzel walk into the bar @11.
The effect of blasting (A transtemporal hangover which feels similar to the moment just following a hard sneeze) was finally catching up with Treeder. He puts his face down onto the cold metal bar.
“You OK Jack”
“Yeah, just a bit tingly, I’ll be alright” he says not lifting his head off the bar
Turin walks over from the Jukebox and lays a crinkled ball of cocktail napkin in front of Ericka and quickly walks out of the bar.
“Thanx” she says too late for Turin to hear as the saloon doors swing shut behind him.
“Well Jack, this is it. This is the moment that we have been waiting for.” As she unfolds the napkin and reads its ink soaked wisdom,
the bartender asks “can I get you folks anything before the entertainment starts?”
Just as Treeder begins to speak, Ericka shoves the cocktail napkin into his open mouth.
“Yes, two please” she says in her most cutesy pie voice.
Quickly turning towards Treeder with an abrupt change in tone she says, “Swallow it, Jack! All of it. Now!”
Jack leaned up from the bar with his mouth full of napkin, nearly choking with half his face red and flat from being pressed to bar. “uhh um awat vlid jus ney”
“Swallow, then talk baby”
The Bartender sidles back with the drinks and Jack begins gulping it down, trying to get the napkin soggy enough to swallow.
Slightly coughing, “Jesus! Please never, never, do that again.”
“Allergic to napkins, Jack? You could just consider it a sort of mini crisis?”
Doing just that, Jack felt a bit better.
“Now what were you trying to say, Jack?”
Continued in "GIVING THE PSYCHIC FINGER"
posted by Nicholas Holt at 5:08 PM
1 Comments:
You ought to send your blog to Vonnegut.
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