So we made it past Little Big City, with a quick stop off for the night before continuing down the two lane blacktop towards Las Salvas. The single stripe of black that stretched through the desert and the desolate beauty and strange blinks of towns was astounding and ultimately amazing. It was also cool that I downloaded all the Fallout music before a trip so it added to the post-apocalypse feel. Really it was pretty cool. Before anyone asks, beyond the fact that a friend of mine teaches at the local university there and, regrettably, was unable to see us as we passed through, I really don’t have much to say about the place. There are nice parts, I’m sure. There are bad parts, I’m doubly sure. And then there is the Grand Special Hotel. It can go to hell. For a non smoking hotel that tries it’s best to be the great shining beacon for gamblers and luxury seekers, there sure was a lot of cheap pot floating through the halls and seeping under the doors. And it was one of the nicer hotels in the area that we could figure.
Oh, well. Like I said, less said the better.
Las Salvas on the other hand is a thing of unbridled illusory glory. Lights shine in the night that can be seen far into the desert, well past the unnamed army base that may or may not have been the site or a first contact situation sometime in the fifties, and far beyond the scariest clown motel in America. Honestly, at night it looks like a glowing oasis with stripes of brilliant light towers that stretch beyond the stars.
[Edit: I have been asked by several people, particularly HonestWords231, about whether the light pillar that shines off the top of the Karnak hotel is in actuality, a beacon. So let me say this for the record, I have no idea if any of the following true: it’s a teleport beam to ancient and threatening galactic empires, a Dragonesti sign to “stay away from this planet,” the light of an entrapped angel who is trying to signal the divine, a bex plot, a tether for Captain Mongo’s living ship, a slip tunnel to Lord Quantum’s Avalon, or a great and glorious plot by the illuminati to control mankind. I really have no clue. Though I do have to ask one question: Where do you people get this stuff?]
Anyway, the lights and glamour of the city is something of a guilty pleasure, at least the tourist stuff. There is more to life in the Carnal City, or so one friend I met said. He used to work at Mythical Donuts on Pandora Street, a frequent spot for police officers and strippers both coming off shift and in need of a pick me up. According to him, he would never set foot in this town again, believing it to be his death to do so. I can tell you, yes there is more poverty here than a town built on glamour can sustain. I think it helps economy, if you believe some people here from. I don’t tend to talk to those people.
We stopped at the Excelsior hotel, a nice place whose glory days lay sometime in the 80’s or 90’s but it showed no signs of slowing. Most of the décor, attempting to give the feel of a far future, science fiction inspired but as neutral copyright as humanly possible while still giving references to zap guns and tricorders, felt like a strange and wondrous space station, if somewhat dated. The huge view screens, that showed what was once excellent CGI for the day now felt almost comical to anyone but the fanatical faithful, hovered overhead as grey and industrially clean walls surrounded us. The carpets however were surprisingly soft on the feet if somewhat hypnotic. Ads for various attractions based off licenced properties hung between the gleaming gambling machines and coffee dispensers made to look like old school replicators. One could ride a Federation Shuttle, fly a starship against the Dragonesti Invasion, have a lightsaber duel with friends or even enter the tournament advertized for sometime in November, or a dozen of other simulations, attractions, or distractions pulled right out of Fandom. I for one was a fan of the Zocalo, a Babylon 5 inspired bar. They also have a Cantina, Quark’s, and Emperor Ming’s Palace. I’m still surprised the never tried to hold a comic/sci-fi convention here. It would certainly be more successful hotel for a few weekends a year.
The crowd of devoted gamblers and pleasure seekers that lined up in front of us for registration was evidence of that. Books of attractions in hand, some stood practicing dice throws, gossiping to loved ones about the various attractions of the hotel and neighboring casinos. A few people asked for tickets to Highlight and Murphy, one of the “limited engagement only” shows featuring comedy and magic that play several times a day in the lower mezzanine. Considering it wasn’t even advertised in our brochure, it must be something for ‘those in the know.’ But all of them, down to the kids, looked like experienced Excelsior goers. I wish the hotel luck. It was nice, cheap, and I still won $60 on a Dungeons and Dragons themed slot machine. Paid for the room and dinner. Well, almost. Food is expensive here.
We got our rooms and relaxed. The view outside, even from the 18th floor gave us a nice view of the street and several other hotels, not many as we were near the end of the Strip but some. I even managed to convince Kay to come out walking for a while.
Las Salvas, beyond the glitz and glamour that would make several layers of Faery blink and ask them to turn it down, is still a great place to get a drink or a bite to eat and people watch. The vast masses, all looking to get away, either from what they left or the situation that keeps them here, can give hours of entertainment. Watching people flock to attractions and cheap drinks in expensive glasses, It’s just a hoot. Or it is until you find yourself swaying to the piper’s song and have to change your routine to keep the enchantment at bay for a while. Frozen yogurt helps with that, I found out.
At the same time, you never know what to find. Kay was looking for someplace cheap to eat on her phone while I played slots for a bit. Something to pass the time, and you never know if you are going to get lucky. Besides, in the end, it’s probably cheaper than the food and drinks. So my luck was up and down, not in the red but not breaking the bank by a long shot. But my luck in other directions changed.
I have to ask, how do people in the real world deal with fanfare and bugles? I spent too long in Ashland, where you have to ask questions like, “was that gunfire” to notice a 14 piece horn section enter and blow something designed to introduce Kings, Emperors, and Caesars. Not this time though.
Kay tapped my shoulder and pointed at the horn-blowers. Shirtless men, each and every one of them, all impressively sculpted and chiseled. They all wore gold pants that looked sprayed on and black bow ties. “Well, there something you don’t see every day.” She said smiling. Ah, let her look. I don’t mind. I also noticed the small black and gold flags each of the horns carries, tied like banners, though I didn’t get a good look at the heraldry. I was starting to wonder if this was some advertisement for an after hours show, something for the ladies or those who are inclined to such things. I kept wondering when the two college boys, also shirtless and ripped, walked in [sorry, pranced in] throwing rose petals in the air.
“I hope you are enjoying.” I said to Kay. I’m not sure she heard me. She just kept staring….and blushing. That is until the large man in the same sprayed on pants but with a sleeveless black velvet robe inlaid with intricate gold filigree strode into the middle of the scene. By his turban, I thought he was some sort of magician. Maybe this was the Highlight and Murphy show people were talking about, I thought.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Excelsior hotel!” He intoned like a vaudevillian host. “It is my privilege, nay, the honor, (Yes he actually said that) to present to you that amazing woman who will ensnare your glance and steal your soul. Consider yourselves fortunate to stand in the presence of Lady Luck herself and receive her blessing. So bow, great masses all, bow before her, the majesty of desire, the empress of avarice, The great and powerful golden goddess herself, please applaud for the one and only….”
He stood to one side as six beefcakes carried in a gold litter, enshrouded with gold and black curtains. The musclemen carried it like reverent priests hauling the Arc of the Covenant around. As it fully entered the lobby, they set it down, and bowed before it. The curtains shuttered and shook as the whole box vibrated. Horns blared, and men who needed singing lessons attempted to salute the occupant. I watched as did most of the room. Some still held dice and others put coins in slots, but they all paid attention to the show as the litter exploded. She emerged from the roof of the litter like regal Jiffy-pop from a burlesque show.
“Quantum Queen!”
And so it was. The Quantum Queen.
She floated over the shreds of litter roof, slowly levitating with her arms outspread in ways usually reserved for celebrities emerging from eggs or talented dancers bursting from oversized novelty cakes. She practically radiated a 50’s pinup sexual vibe in addition to the quantum field she actually radiated. It was like Betty Page and Lucille Ball had a child with an undisclosed meta and gave her a regular late night music and comedy show.
“Hello Everyone!” she shouted, sorry, crooned. “It’s me, your one and only Queen.” I half expected her to burst into song. Instead, at a sweep of her hand, several dozen slot machines all hit a jackpot. The alarms and celebratory ringers clanged out in a claxon of jovial alarm. Hoots and hollers soon followed as the devoted and soon to be converted praised her generosity. With another sweep, dice rolled seven, even the ones in the pit bosses pockets. “I’ve come to fill your hearts with wonder, with magic, with love, but mostly me.”
I will never know how some people can playfully blush on cue like that.
She flew down to a guy in line who was wearing a cheap “I saw the Queen” baseball cap who stood at the roulette wheel, dumbstruck. She kissed the cap appreciatively, leaving a burned imprint of her lips. She squeezed the guys cheek and sighed. “Aw, aren’t you sweet. Thanks for coming.” She then pushed him back, launching herself into the air and him on his ass. She circled the chandeliers as her beefcakes sung or played instruments. I have no idea the song, but I pretty sure the melody was butchered from “Hello Dolly.”
“I wanted to welcome everyone to the Excelsior Hotel,” She floated on shimmer waves of yellow energy as she drifted, swimming in the air like a nerdy vision of Esther Williams. “A great place to lose millions having the time of your life.” She blew kisses and let everyone get a good look at her.
“Is this normal?” Kay asked watching the spectacle in all it’s cheesy glory. Any cheesier and we could dip stale bread in it and make a meal.
“I doubt it.” I replied as she flew past a glass case with some memorabilia from a 1950’s space opera. I think it was called “Queen of Earth.” Besides the bad zap guns and bubble headed space suits that had no abdomen protection whatsoever, she paused by the red dress, heavily beaded, and made to look like a femme fatale dress, high collared, armless, and lit up way past mid thigh. She cooed at it before zipping down to the collection of ruby rings Max Von Sydow wore in that old 80’s movie. After admiring the sparklies and other props while her horde serenaded her, the rest of the room slowly returning to their respective obsessions or duties, she addressed us again.
“I love you all so much, I thought, what a great day to greet you all while I robbed the place?” Throwing her arm out, she blasted a craps table in half. Chips flew everywhere, wood and metal splintered and Kay and I dove for cover. The dice ended up rolling right to me. A six, by the way. (of course i kept them) From what i could hear we were not the only people scrabbling as she blasted a cheap knockoff holoviewer from the wall. Gunshots erupted in the background. I’m guessing they were from the beefcakes as her gang of minions. How they concealed the weapons, I won’t even hazard a guess.
“Gentlemen.” She said in that playful voice, full of promise of later delights if certain people were good boys, yet commanding. “I believe you know what a girl likes? Go get it.”
They immediately spread out, breaking prop cases and stealing anything that looked valuable either as gems, metal, or collectors value. One came over towards us, breaking open a case with a replica of Leia’s dress from A New Hope. We took that as our cue to get the hell out of there. Quickly, without thinking, we made our way towards the elevators, I guess we figured we would barricade ourselves inside and await help. This was Las Salvas after all. No one screws with a casino, not even popular metahuman criminals that add to the tourist draw.
We hit the button and it did nothing. The elevators showed no power and no amount of prayer would get the doors open.
“In here!” Kay shouted as she looked around the corner. She kept the armored door of a Jackie Rockets restaurant. We shuffled in, under the door, another couple taking Kay’s advice and following us in before we let the door slam.
“Oh thank the gods.” The woman said. “Thanks for holding the door.”
Kay shook her hand, as if on automatic. “Don’t mention it, just keep quiet.” They both nodded. I checked outside through the inch thick protective glass of a display case protecting the restaurant’s mascot. The scene outside of smashing glass, rushing people, and a levitating pinup model made me wonder if this sort of thing could get any more Salvas. Sure, if they started piping in Dean Martin. I recoiled as a pile of multi colored chips flew against the window. Funny enough, just beyond the chaos, the Queen was trying on the various stolen outfits over her skin tight uniform. She seemed to favor a red scarf.
“What’s going on?” Kay asked, quietly.
“Chaos, robbery, and apparently a fashion show.” I said as I kept watch. “Most of the civilians have bugged out from the looks of things.”
“You mean like us?” The woman said again before turning to your counterpart. “Robert, what do you think? Can you do anything?”
He looked at her like she asked him for an ice cream to help her relax, right now. “What do you expect?” He said. “They don’t let you keep your piece on the floor. It’s in the luggage.”
She looked dejected, even pouted a bit. “Oh right. Sorry.”
“Even if I did, what could I do against her?” He continued, more to himself than anything else.
“Distract her while we all flee for safety?” She smiled sarcastically.
“Glad you think of everything.” He muttered. “Besides we are safe enough here.”
“I think he’s right.” I said. “It doesn’t look like they are going after the people, just the stuff.”
“This the Queen and all.” He said.
She shrugged. “I guess so. She doesn’t have a rep for killing. It’s not like we have to deal with someone like…”
“Hey!” I heard a gruff, roaring voice call out, cutting off her words. “What do you think you’re doing, Queenie?”
“Cadaver Dog…” She finished. “Crap.”
I looked up again, seeing the ashen face, sharp teeth, and glowing red eyes. His familiar hood hid nothing but added to his horror. I pulled my head back before he looked this way, but i caught a glimpse of the horde that followed him. “This is my score! Back off!”
“Yeah,” Kay suggested. “I think we should find better cover.” Each of us nodding, we hunched down and desperate made our way towards the kitchen. Regretfully, the freezer was locked and the back door failed to exist, leaving us stuck in the prep room among the smell freshly grilled meats and heat lamps. The Orange Caesar machine still worked though. Also, as Robert discovered, the staff had installed armor plating behind the counter, I guess just for this exact eventuality. This made me wonder how common was this in this city, in this casino. Satisfied that none of us was about to lose a limb, we each sat down on the less than clean floor, catching our breath.
“Hell of a vacation, eh, Emily?” Robert laughed. “Seen all the celebrities you want?”
She shrugged, smiling. “There is still Cirque du Soleil. I hear the Mystere show is good.”
“Zumanity is better.” I gasped, slowly easing my breath. “If we had a chance to stay longer, I would have taken the wife to it.”
“I’m guessing you are ‘the wife?’” Emily address Kay who smiled. “Same here.”
We all sat back and breathed not knowing what else to do. Emily and Robert cuddled together. Kay held my hand. I guess I had to break the moment more than anything else as the odd quiet descended. “Did you see that collection, though?” I asked, like a casual event.
“She has been trying to get me here for years.” Robert said. “Something about old movies and the decor. She tried to get us into a similar theme hotel when we went to Star Wars Celebration a few years ago.”
“It’s also Las Salvas.” She said from his chest. “There’s always an excuse for Las Salvas.
“And to think,” Robert continued. “We could be where right now?”
“I am not going to the Iowa Comic Con.” She pressed. “You know how much I hate that state. Besides, the Rell-Con is so much better, and air conditioned. And there is still Space City…”
“You too huh?” I said.
“What?” They asked. “Are you going to SSCC too?”
“Actually,” Kay said as she snagged a basket of tater tots from the heat lamp. “We are moving back to Space City.”
“Well, hon.” Emily smiled, “you couldn’t have picked two better people to be trapped in a Jimmy Rockets’ kitchen during a double raid with dangerous metahumans outside. We live in Space City.”
We talked for what seemed like hours, with the occasional thunder or explosion interrupting the flow. Turns out we had much in common; the girls had a passion for knitting and fabrics, the guys obsessed with comics, everyone of us gamers and sci-fi nuts. In the end, we traded information and ate just about everything already cooked. We even arranged to get drinks when we all got back into town. It’s nice knowing there are friends waiting for you wherever you are going.
Eventually the alarms went off and the screeching noise from the doors drew our attention. We huddled with our respective spouse and awaited whatever was tearing through the steel.
“Anyone alive in here?” A voice, not gravely or boisterous, but definitely masculine. Robert and I looked at each other and nodded. We both peeked our heads over the top of the counter in unison. One of the local Blackwatch, a tall blond man with eyes that glowed with soft blue light, held the door open and looked around.
He caught sight of us fast.
“You guys ok?”
“Yeah.” We said in unison, again. “What happened?”
“It’s clear now.” He said, waving us over to a small gathering of other survivors behind him. We all rose to our feet and followed the directions of the officer. (For those who don’t know, Blackwatch is the metahuman division of some local police departments. It sidesteps some of the traditional issues with metahumans wanting to protect and serve.) “We had a nice scuffle of several metahuman groups all over town.” He said as he waved us past the door and into the hallway. The group of several dozen made room for us.
“I guess Quantum Queen and Cadaver Dog?” I said.
“You don’t know the half of it.” He said. “Looks like half a dozen casinos were hit. Don’t quote me on this but this might be one of the largest heists in Las Salvas history.”
We all whistled, impressed.
“You guys didn’t happen to see if a guy in a kind of gold armor or suit with roman numerals on his head was involved?”
Everyone shook their head. Everyone but me that is. I just stared blankly.
“I wouldn’t worry about it, just a person of interest.” He clarified.
“Probably another one of those goons working for Lord Quantum or Chevron.”
“Lord Quantum was behind this?” I asked immediately.
“I didn’t say that sir.” He corrected. “This is a matter for the police and local metahuman groups.”
I nodded again.
“Thanks for your service.” Robert said to the officer who shook it in a peculiar way. “SSPD myself.”
“Huh,” the Blackgaurd laughed. “What are the odds huh? Did you see anything to report, Officer?”
Robert shook his head. “Mostly was keeping the wife safe but I’m available or any questions you might have.”
“Oh, don’t worry, we will probably process and question all of you here. Any bit of evidence we can get the better.”
We all nodded our heads.
“Anywho…” the officer continued, “We got to get you to your rooms. If everything turns out alright you should be good to go by tomorrow. We just ask that you stay there.”
We all nodded, said our goodbyes for now, and headed towards the elevator. The once glorious hotel would need some redecorating and, besides the broken safety glass, we saw several slot machines and gambling tables smashed. Mostly what hit me was the missing memorabilia. So much of it lost. It couldn’t be that valuable to collectors, could it? If so, then my autographed Stan Lee book and my collection of rare action figures were getting better protection when we set ourselves up again.
We all got to the first lift, trading numbers as we waited for the doors to open. Several other people also gathered around us, waiting to be taken to their room. Most stood in silence, each wondering what the other had witnessed but no one wanting to say anything. You know, typical elevator tension. The doors opened and we filed in. One or pairs got off as the doors opened at respective floors and again we said nothing.
Just before our floor, Robert and Emily got out and waved bye to us. We waved back, just before the doors closed, a woman behind us, a woman I barely noticed asked us to hold the elevator doors for her. I did so and she squeezed past us. She was a little woman with unkempt hair, huge glasses that seemed out of date by decades, and a mousey disposition. She also seemed skinny almost to the point of nerdish frailty. Normally I wouldn’t notice her at all, except as she went past us, i noticed the scarf she was wearing, a familiar red scarf that was favored by someone not that long ago… someone floating overhead while her goon smashed display cases.
“Huh, I thought to myself….” What are the odds?"
Keep Dreaming
Daniel
You know what I find weird?
Ok, let me stop right there.
That statement is so open ended, I could have asked “You know what I like in green?” It could be houses, vegetables, or skin tight body armor for all you know. Seriously, there is so much I find weird, I may have to employ a spectrum. It starts in casual weirdness like how you can test certain batteries with your tongue, how most orange beverages taste so much like each other yet they are all identifiable and none of them tastes like an orange, or how ghosts still know who they are when they lack the neurons to store that data. The continuity continues to the commonly weird, such as ADAM units, limited artificial intelligence that can still still be trained to be classist, or how certain quantum powers work without affecting the wielder like the fire generators who never seemed to get burned. They are just the day to day weirdness and you kind of get used to it. Then you get to Uncommon weirdness like streetlights that deactivate when you pass by them on a regular basis, strange books that fall off shelves when you pass, and dogs that call you by your first name. Occasionally, you have strange weather shifts and chills for no good reason. Before the end of the list there is the Bizarre, coincidences that don’t match up, like humanoid aliens, people who know angelic script and have since early childhood, or meeting a lover from twenty years ago while showing your wife the comic shop you used to love as a kid when none of you live in that city anymore. I would also put things like most metas here but when you live in so many of the major bergs, it gets more and more common.
Nope, except for the Insider. Chest doors that open up to reveal a void dimention filled with hungry tentalcles and facial tattoos that make him look not unlike a badger. He’s just too much.
Lastly, there is the Something Has To Be Going On. Worlds open up, gods are visible, temporal hiccups that result in history becoming fluid, anything having to do with Watchface or his sister, or the universe shows it’s plan in the form of a translucent humanoid etched with the star pattern of a galaxy while it learns the place for humanity in the greater story of itself.
(Edit: I have been told by a source, who goes by the name “ImAnonymousAndAim2KeepItThatWay” I kid you not, says that last one actually happened. He suggests looking deeper into the lineup of the Flight of Champions. According to his sources, the supposed “Green Man,” “Earth’s Elemental,” or “Pagan Priest Pinnacle,” or whatever I mentioned before literally dropped an entity like that, an “infant galaxy that was hidden away on this planet to learn how to arrange life when she comes of age” on their doorstep. This happened two days before the last Dragonesti attempted invasion. She is, it would seem, bonding with several members for guidance and goes by the name Galactica. For the record any two of those things that I just wrote about would be classified Uncommon Weirdness and above. Take that strange changing pictures, Insider, and histories that make no sense.)
(Edit-Edit:I wrote that last edit, read it out loud, read it to my wife to make sure it all came together, then had to ask myself, “How the hell am I still sane?” Once I have a definitive answer, I will let you know, Dear Readers. Now on with the story,)
This isn’t anything cosmic, but you know what I find weird, the opportunities that happen when you least expect it. In this case, there is a small mountain town that Kay and I have visited several times. It’s supposedly the entrance to the Great Society of Mu where the race of reptilian Lemurians gather to decide the fate of humanity, if you by into that sort of thing. I don’t judge. It’s supposed to be one of the retreats of several great mystics who don’t like to make the papers, other than Mr. Mystic and Athame. The town below the cloud covered peak deals in crystals, pagan statues, all organic living, and at least 113 “Original” crystal skulls which speak words of magic to various psychics. They also just opened a hemp shop to cater to the one more section of their fanbase. Mostly we visit for the mountain air, the general mystic vibe of the place, and the second greatest diner we have ever eaten at, the Barbarian Bear Diner. Otherwise it’s kind of boring.
Standing outside the diner’s entrance, a chainsaw sculpture meant to depict and honor the two major industries of the town, logging and bear spotting, greets visitors with a ferocious roar and a double headed battle ax in hand. I’m told by the autobiography that wrapps every menu that the owner was also a Robert E Howard fan. Thus the Barbarian Bear Diner. By the time we got there, someone had crocheted a grey and white horned helmet and strapped it to the head of the statue.
However, the weekend we moved, a long awaited film opened up. Knowing we would never be able to get an opening weekend ticket in Bridgeton or any of the local environs for miles around, I found the local theater in this mountain town. Lo and behold, there it played. On our first stop past the mountains of Oregon, we stayed the night there and made it to the theater with seconds to spare.
Laughing and over analyzing the epic, a favorite hobby of my wife and I, we got a seat at Barbarian Bear and order several cups of coffee. The food was amazing and fattening as ever. The Blood My Enemies omelet is more than either of us should handle alone, but it's so good. Bloated and still chatting, we barely noticed the oncoming roar until it was shaking the windows. Normally, we thought it was some biker coming in for a short stack until we turned our heads to glare at the noise erupting through our peace.
The famous black lacquered bike pulled up driven by the Ba-Ba-bounty hunter himself: the man who has tracked The Menagerie, taken on Archer, and literally dragged Duke Diesel to jail by the collar for the right price.
Enrique the Sheep.
For those not in the know, and it’s quite possible you may never had heard the the Wooly Warrior, Enrique was once a man, by all records, named Enrique Hernandez. After that, records are spotty. According to some, there is a bounty hunting licence in several states with that name on it. According to others, there is “indisputable proof” that he was a former military man, with people claiming that they fought next to him in every major incursion from Vietnam, to Syria, to Terraq, as everything from a Navy SEAL, an Army Ranger, Special Forces, to Parasquad and EAGLE. Oh, and there are several sources that say he used to be known as Annette. Be careful what you read on the internet. No one knows for certain other than the leather clad walking yarn ball-waiting-to-happen himself.
Why is that you ask? Shouldn’t records be easily found? What about facial recognition?
That last one I can answer. It seems that Enrique suffered through the Unicorn Blight and survived. However the energies which gave powers and abilities to others left him fluffy. I can only image what it's like to walk up to a mirror and seeing a strange face staring back at you that isn’t even human but, well, sheepish. He also grew an impressive set of horns that curled around his pointed ears. I guess that’s why he never wears a helmet when he drives his motorcycle that looks like Harley Davidson might design after a bender and testosterone injections. Though he does wear an impressive set of goggles made to offset his unusual eyes and snout.
We watched, I more stunned than my wife as decaf coffee dribbled down my chin, Enrique dismounting his hell-beast of a bike and set the kick stand. He got off, hung his goggles around his neck then braced himself. I guess he ran through a rainstorm as he shook himself, like a dog coming out of a bath. It was oddly hypnotic. Water splashed on the windows as he dried himself, clattering like a rainstorm for a second or two. He stood again, readjusted his wrist bracers, and squeezed the last of the water from his arm. He took a breath, calming himself, as all his visible wool went from managed to poof chaos in seconds.
“God F’ing Dammit!” he screamed loud enough that the cooks in the kitchen turned down their tejano music to look at him. Note, that wasn’t a censor. He actually said it. Grumbling he took out a wool comb from his saddle bag and went to work straightening what he could.
“That’s a ten TPI wool comb, special made.” Kay said across the table. Trust my wife, the knitter and spinner, to focus intently on his wool processing gear rather than oddity that swore under his breath right in front of us. “Those are Modroninan Makers. Like, only six exist in that gage. I know women who would give their first born, and their eye teeth just to see them this close up.” She pointed at the open saddle bag. “And those are Bee Knit pins! Platinum plated from the looks of them….”
At this point I hit my limit. I’m sorry, Love, but I only caught this much as the litany of near mythical knitting objects and wool care devices continued. On the same note I’m sorry I didn’t write down the list of new swear words and hyphenated curses, he chewed past clenched teeth that didn’t look capable of speech.
After a minute or two, he put his hair care back in the saddlebag and pulled a stogie from his breast pocket. Leaving it unlit, he strode towards the front door in steel toed boots. He reached the handle before he went to fluffy again. Again, I wish I could post what he said. Suffice to say they could probably hear him over in Mu.
He pulled the door open and strode in. I noticed the only person not paying attention to him was one guy at the counter in a green hoodie, who sat staring into his coffee cup. I wondered if he was the reason that Enrique was here. This then led me to wonder if getting under the table would be a safe place to be for K and I should a gunfight break out. Weirder things have happened. But no, the Sheep strode over to the counter himself, nodded to the hooded stranger and took a seat. Waving his cloven fingers, he ordered the Tri-tip salad, and “a gallon of coffee.” He then slapped a fifty on the bar and told the waitress that it was hers if the coffee mug was never empty and the dish could be prepared in ten minutes. She nodded, her mouth still agape but smiling. At least she was professional. She set an entire pot down in front of him and started a fresh one while calling out his order. I wish I could tell you what is like to watch him throw back his beverage, but I’m still trying to figure the physics of it.
In seconds, his salad was prepared and he threw himself into it. It was about then that K kicked me in the shins. I turned back to her as she tried to make very deliberate conversation that had nothing to do with mutant in the room. She mouthed the words, “Don’t stare.” I nodded back and kept up my end of the conversation after the satisfied grunts and crunchings from the counter no more than ten feet away. No, seriously, I could have reached out and touched it, if I thought he would let me keep the finger. Instead, keeping to caution, I returned to my empty coffee mug and sipped at it. I kept the talk civil and light hearted as the Mutton Chop Mercenary finished his meal and walked out.
“Do you know who that was?” I asked as the massive bike rolled away, roaring into the night.
“Eric the Sheep?” Kay said.
“Enrique the Sheep.” Our waitress corrected as she poured another round of black bliss. She didn’t even look bothered. “He comes in every couple of weeks. The new help always looked shocked. Good tipper.”
“I bet!” I said, wondering how they would split the bill between the crew.
We paid our own tab, thanked them again for “Dinner and a show,” (to which Kay slapped my shoulder) and made our way to the motel we were staying at. As we pulled into the parking lot, lo and behold, his bike was standing in a full car spot.
“How’s that for you?” I asked, starting to giggle at the coincidence.
“It’s not that large of a town.” She assured me. “It’s not like he’s going to the resort.” This town was small enough to have only two motels and three resorts catering to the high end who like to ski or hike.
We slept more or less well. It’s nothing really of note but we packed our bags, deposited our key, and had breakfast at the Barbarian Bear again. I’m sorry but it’s one of the reasons we stopped each time. Their breakfasts are amazing. So sue me.
Afterwards we gassed up at the fillup station, one of four in town. Our next stop wouldn’t be for miles so it seemed like the thing to do. I filled up the car and went inside to pay as Kay stayed in the car. As I gave the man behind the counter a twenty, who should roll up next to pump #7.
Yep. Him.
I was starting to wonder if he was following us, when I noticed the tied up man-lizard duck taped to his back rest. It oozed something from various orifices as it sat there, breathing raggedly, its long forked tongue dangling from its cracked, reptilian lips.
Well, I thought to myself, that answers a few things. Nothing I could prove, but still… I took out my phone and caught several pictures. I’m fairly certain Kay did the same from her vantage point. I got shots of the Sheep, the lizard, and several of my shoes and two of my forehead and glasses. It’s a new phone, ok?
I tossed the cashier a $20 bill. It bounced off his right pant leg as he stared at the scene before us as well. I guess he was new there. Enrique entered and clomped up to the counter. He ordered a fill up, several pounds of beef jerky, and a Power Blast Blue Slush. I did my best to look at the roll of lottery tickets, badly acting like I was somehow unsure of my luck with scratch-offs. I even hummed something to myself that I can’t recall exactly but I think was a version of Black Hole Sun, my nonchalant stance turning more and more chalant unintentionally.
I took a large breath to sigh as if still undecided. He took it the wrong way.
He whipped out a .45 and aimed it at my head without even looking at me. “Say two words, Fanboy!” He shouted.
Before he could get to ‘I double dog dare you,’ I blurted out, half shrieking, “Two words, Fanboy!”
He turned his head to stare at me, one eyebrow lifting, his pistol still ready to headshot me. Then he burst out of giggles. I waited for his gun arm to fall before I started to laugh.
“Man!” He said slapping my shoulder. It hurt. “That’s the best laugh I’ve had all week. Thanks, man.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.” I said, “I was just kind of star struck.”
“No,” He said “Star Struck is a Paramerican and has a much better rack than I do.”
He wasn’t wrong, but I said nothing.
“What’s your name?” He asked as he holstered his gun.
I introduced myself and told him I was a writer and a blogger.
“Wait,” he said, smiling. “That hero blog? The one that has the thing for Dr. Quantum? That used to talk about the Questers in Bridgeton and that crap with Candy Man?”
“Yeah!” I said, suddenly swelling with pride. “You know of it?”
“You bet I do!” He laughed.
Then he headbutted me in the chest. I’m not certain how I ended up in the chip display covered in artificial barbecue flavoring and cool ranch wedges. All I knew is that my lungs protested their treatment and would go on strike if I thought I could be so arrogant again. In the meantime, they were negotiating with my breath to see if they could come to some form of agreement and get back to work. My breath substituted air with salty snack particles.
Someone had my arm, pulling me to my feet as the roar of the bike driving off reverberated in my chest. “Hey, you ok?” The man asked. He was wearing a green hoodie with the familiar O of University of Oregon.
I felt around and nothing moved thankfully. Just heavily bruised. “I think so.” I said. “I’m gonna be sore in the morning, though.”
He put his hand on my chest, steadying me. “Oh, you are going to be fine. I doubt you will feel this by lunch.” He patted my shoulders reassuringly before dusting the combined dust of a thousand salty snack foods from my clothes. “People I know have had chest issues like this and been fine.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I smiled and thanked him. Funny though, his hoodie kept being just in the wrong place, like his eyes avoid whatever contact they could. I still thanked him for his kindness.
“Don’t thank me.” He laughed and pointed to the counter. “I think someone paid for your gas.” On the counter a small yellow card lay. The cashier said he had left it for me as he paid for my gas. I picked up and read:
“You have been headbutted by Enrique the Sheep! You’re Welcome.”
Scrawled in a quick hand on the back. “Thanks, Fanboy, now screw off!”
“Well, that was weird.” the clerk muttered returning my twenty.
“Yeah, it was…” I said as I made my way back to the car, not liking the idea of the seat belt hitting my sternum.
“Weirder things have happened.” The Hoodie said again as be bought several packs of beef jerky and a carbonated mineral water to the counter. “Best just to let it go.”
We all nodded and I went back to the car. I as I turned around, to tell Kay of the strange encounter and why i was nervous about my chest, I pointed back to the people inside. Then I caught it. The hoodie pulled his green hood back for a second, welcoming the feeling of sunlight on his face while he popped open his water. I have no idea how to put it other than to say, as i did to Kay, “Is it me, or does that guy’s tattoos kind of make him look like a badger.”
She agreed.
We drove on.
So that was the first leg of the trip! Next our stop would take us to Little Big City and eventually to the bright lights of Las Salvas.
But that’s another entry.
Keep dreaming
Daniel E
There are few things weathermen are not prepared for which happen often enough that there are special flags and reports to throw out on the news. They are ready for the occasional tsunami, tidal wave, or hurricane, either natural or man-made. They have special fonted logos for those times when metas battles cause torrential rain to fall in the name of drama. That last one happened six months ago in an epic battle between street level hero, Ghost Owl, and the more cosmically minded Duke of Dreams. Considering that the water table afterwards was still in near drought conditions, drama might be the only thing that happened that night. Though the Quantum Queen was supposedly spotted at the nightclub, Blue Christmas, so anything is possible.
These things all have protocol, precautions, and safety measures that can be prepared, set in motion, and help the general public without too much delay or other strain on their daily lives. So why is it when 3 inches of snow falls in the pacific northwest, the entire town shuts down and begs for mercy, usually after the first half an inch. This is a town that gets more rain than some nations in Africa, more mudslides than an eccentric pub with stock in Kahlua, and more grey depressing days than…well, anywhere as far as I know. And yet, a simple collision of cold front and wet weather system from the north causes panic in just about every resident. Granted, it could be worse. Snowflake was in town. I’m told her little ‘trysts’ and ‘temper tantrums’ have been known to create liquid hydrogen from thin air. If she had fallen in love with any one of the weather metas out there and the two of them lost control of their talents in the heat of passion on a high enough place, say near Mount Cowl, it could blanket the state in a minor ice age.
Um…. Did I just give a supervillain an idea? OK I take it back. Never happened. Nope.
So that being said, I still consider myself lucky as hell. The initial move went well but everything that could be held up and delayed was. We wondered if our pods would be dropped off in time They were if just barely.
We wondered if the movers would show up. They did and did amazing work. Thanks guys! When you have a chance and you are in need, ask for Killdozer. He was half the reason they were able to make the appointment at the time. Don’t take the occasional steam whistle personally or let the massive, multi-fingered steam shovels he call hands intimidate you. He does his job and does it well. Oh and the spiked rotary treads on his feet, no those are fine. No mud on the carpet or a single scuff mark on the tile. Brian knew his work too.
We doubted they would pick up the pods before we had to vacate the apartment, (And yes, by the skin of their teeth, and when we weren’t looking, they did. I joked that they might be using teleporters on the sly when Kay pointed at the truck passing by. I also pointed at the goblin like figure who was throwing elf shot at an albino caped hero that might be Ivory. I didn’t get a good enough look because I was staring at the clawed feet scratch up our MoveCube. Thankfully we didn’t get charged for the “movement damage.”
All checked out, and spending the night at a hotel to make sure we could survive the journey south after the light blizzard, we headed out in fog covered land and white ground. The radio and TV warned drivers not to go out, that ice could appear at any moment, and that once again, only the first mile of each road closest to the border of the state would be getting anything resembling de-icing. But did we? Of course we did, tire chains in hand, supplies in the car to survive an oasis, and candles for warmth. What did we get?
Nothing!
No ice, no issues other than the fact that our old car doesn’t handle inclines as well as she should. Slow and steady, we made our way towards the Golden Coast and from there towards Space City. And we are off. We did some sightseeing, saw a good movie in a mountain town theater, gambled in Sin City, and had a few encounters, like the one with Enrique the Sheep which almost broke three ribs. I’ll tell more about that in future posts.
That’s all for now. Soon more. I swear. Sorry for being gone for so long.
Keep Dreaming
Daniel
