Continuing… (It's Part 6 in the saga, I fucked up. Sorry.)
So, after a few re-fueling and impromptu cigar-purchasing stops in South and Central America, we wheel up to the deserted jetway at LAX.
“Thought we were going to Elmendorf?” I asked.
“This isn’t it?” the pilot replied, feigning worry.
“No.”, I replied, “Looks like California. Fruits and nuts. All around. What’s going on? One minute we’re off to Texas, then Cali, then Texas again, now we end up here at the California airport of the iconic tower.”
“Yeah, it’s confusing enough haulin’ civilians around. But when we get a call from Virginia, we tend to comply without any questions,” the pilot explains.
“Aw, shit!”, I sort of exclaim, “Rack and Ruin called?”
“Yeah”, the pilot replies, “Figures you’d know these guys. They said they were closer to LAX rather than Texas and had us divert here. In fact, you look over there, see that dark blue Chevy? That’s them; and evidently, your ride.”
I tipped the airman from earlier a couple of cigars as he helped me with my gear off the plane and into the trunk of Rack and Ruin’s plain-Jane blue late modeled Chevy. Had to move the Sidewinder Missiles off to one side, though.
“Most honorable Agents Lack and Luin!” I quipped in my faux-racist greeting. “What the hell, guys? I’ve got to get to Japan and get some newly rigidified digits.”
“Let’s see your hand”, Agent Rack asks. “Nasty.”
“Yeah”, I sigh “And with the medicos in South America and their penchant for plaster, I don’t so much have a left hand as more of an ankylosaur tail.”
“Or Thagomizer”, Agent Ruin tittered. “Anyone gives you grief, and one upside the head should set them right. Or dead.”
“You’re a riot, Ruin.” I replied, “But not entirely incorrect.”
We all agreed that I really didn’t need any extra accouterments to make myself look more dangerous. I mean with my severe haircut, stern beard clip, and perpetual ‘Go fuck yourself’ scowl.
“Yeah”, I replied, stroking the aforementioned beard, “I just can’t get that. I’m such a people person.”
After Agents Rack and Ruin finished drying their eyes from laughing what I thought was en extremis, we finally got down to business.
“So, what’s the skinny, guys”, I asked. “New marching orders?”
“No. Not as such”, Agent Ruin said, still sniggering over my ‘people person’ comment.
I see we’re moving. Agent Rack is just driving casually, like Chewbacca when they were waiting to see if the Empire went for that expensive Bothan code.
“Then, what?” I asked, getting a slight bit piqued.
“Well”, Agent Ruin noted, “When you went to South America, you took some of your artillery collection with, correct?”
“You know I did. You even made some snide comments about my personal choice of sidearms and their ‘excessive’ calibers, if memory serves”, I reiterated.
“And if you are proceeding normally, as you always do, they’re all nestled in the trunk of this very car. All cleaned, quiet, unloaded, and smelling sweetly of Hoppe’s Number 9 and WD 40, correct?” Rack inquired.
“Yes?” I cautiously venture.
“Well, ya’ big dummy, do you think they’re going to let you saunter into Tokyo armed like the Third Fleet?” Agent Ruin chuckled.
“Um…well…I do have a Diplomatic Passport.” I ventured.
“That’s not going to work this time.”, Agent Ruin said, shaking his head. “They’re tighter than Dick’s Hatband about sidearms. Want to bring in your Rigby SXS .500 Nitro Express double rifle? Not a problem. Sidearms, especially in your alien hunting calibers, nope.”
Well, that’s just….*dandy!”, I reply, semi-put out. “Now what the hell am I going to do?”
“Ever think that’s why Ruin and I are here, now?”, Rack asks.
“And here I thought it was just so you could bask in the warm glow of my fucking wonderful personality. Or that you actually cared about me as a real goddamn human”, I joshed.
“Ummm…yeah”, Rack replies, “There’s no way we can answer that without going on some Deadpool list. “
I agreed.
“OK, here’s the deal: you get your sidearms, ammunition, speed loaders, brass knuckles, Asp, laser range finders, Sap, Zeiss scopes, Kukri, Wisconsin Cheese Whittler, Buck folding skinner, Marine K-Bar, those two ultra-illegal Cheburkov Cobra titanium switchblades...”
“Three. Olga the KGB lady sent me one for Geologist’s Day.”
“Ahem. Those three ultra-illegal Cheburkov switchblades, that Wyoming Speedholer, your MASER Time-Distance Computer, garrote, pocket rail gun and whatever else lethal you carry and deposit it in the iron box in the trunk. We’ll ensure that it’s delivered to Esme post-haste. And by post-haste I mean one of our guys will deliver it personally.”
“Well…I suppose”, I conceded, “But best send someone who’s been to the house recently. I don’t know how much bigger Khan has grown since I left on this little fantasy trip. Wouldn’t want a star on the wall in Langley for someone eaten by a mastiff. Want to see a picture….Oh, bother. That’s right. My phone’s at the bottom of fucking Lake Maracaibo.”
“Good point”, Ruin interjects, “Guess we’ll do a little road trip and deliver it ourselves. Best call Esme and let her know what’s going on.”
“I have no objections to your proposals. Please give Esme this when you see her. I had some luck in the Calaveras Casino and if I don’t send her some mad money. Ouch. She’ll never forgive me for not taking her along to Japan.” I asked.
“But I thought Esme hated Japan? Too crowded and too ‘fussy’, I believe was her estimation.” Ruin asked.
“Yes, but once she saw the Ginza, all bets were off. Shopping the likes of which even Allah himself hasn’t seen.” I replied, slowly shaking my head.
“I see”, Ruin said, “Well, since you’re off to Sapporo, perhaps you can do a recon for Esme on the shopping there.”
“Not bad. Not bad at all.”, I smiled, “Now I know why I let you guys hang around with me.”
So, as advertised, I am now standing on the tarmac at LAX, basically feeling naked.
“Can’t I keep just one switchblade?” I moaned to Agent Rack.
“Go ahead, if you’re really keen on donating it to Japanese customs”, he replied.
“Fuckbuckets.” I groused.
“There, there now. That’s the usual Dr. Rocknocker of which we’re all so fond.” Agent Ruin chuckled.
“Remember, you do have that wallet-sized credit card gizmo from the Company. So you’re not entirely ‘naked’. Think of it as an emergency breechcloth.” He smiled.
“I’d like a larger model if you don’t mind. It’s chilly out here.” I joshed.
After Agents Rack and Ruin stripped me metaphorically naked as they de-weaponized me, they handed me a Business Class ticket to Tokyo, and a pass to the Japan Airlines Hospitality Suite and Lounge.
“So sorry you guys can’t hang around and have a few farewell snorts”, I chided, “But you’ve got a bit of a drive, so best be off before the weather turns to shit.”
“Who says we’re driving?” Agent Rack asked as he hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the ready and waiting C-130 cargo plane currently taxiing slowly in our direction.
“Well, in that case”, I smiled even more broadly, “Let’s invite the flight crew to join us. That’ll make the flight home all that much more interesting.”
After near tear-jerking farewell sentimentalities, i.e., “Piss on you”, “Get stuffed” and “Take a fuckin’ hike”; Agents Rack and Ruin, my weapons and the Agency’s plain-Jane Blue Chevy were all nestled snugger than buggers in ruggers in the belly of the thundering C-130.
Now truly on my own, I trudge the hundred thousand or so centisteps to my departure terminal, make a quick recon that my flight’s still slated to go in a generally westward direction, and hightail it to the nearest courtesy desk to ask for a motorized cart to take me and my remaining luggage to the JAL Hospitality Suite.
Hey. I’m old, infirm, and currently among the walking wounded.
Anyone that disagrees risks an Ankylosaur tail club swat or Thagomizer to the skull.
Finally ensconced in the JAL Hospitality Suite, Polo Lounge of course; I was drinking Tokyo Teas (3 oz. vodka, 2 oz. gin, 2 oz. rum, 1 oz. triple sec, 1 oz. Midori, good splash of lime juice, a slight splash of 7-Up (diet, of course), over ice with a lime wheel) with Pabst Blue Ribbon Extra 1844 chasers and Hangar One’s “Fog Point” vodka on the side, hiding from the brutish realities of this foul year of two thousand and twenty-something, Common Era…
I’ve already called Esme and we’ve had a good, long chat. She still managed to give me her shopping list for whenever I find myself bored on the Ginza.
She’ll be shocked when she learns that I’m not going to be in Tokyo long, but have 1st class tickets on the Bullet Train to Sapporo. Still, I’ll probably find myself in Pole Town or the Stellar Place there, trading piles of US greenbacks for locally produced Japanese curios and clothing.
I can hardly wait.
I order another round of drinks, as the wonderful attendants in the Hospitality Suite were bored out of their skulls because of the COVID-induced drop-in customers flying anywhere that requires a hospitality room stay, and I was virtually the only one around. They tried their level best to outdo each other when it comes to Japanese efficiency and friendliness.
After a couple of hours, they ask if I would like something from the grill, as the day chef had “the COVID” and the night chef just arrived. A quick perusal of the menu and I chose a 28-ounce dry-aged Porterhouse and another round of drinks.
I usually don’t like to eat too much before I fly, but JAL tells me the flight is going to be virtually empty, something like <121 pax, all told, so restroom availability shouldn’t be too much of a concern.
Plus, who am I to say no to a free, blue 28-ounce dry-aged Porterhouse?
There was a bit of difficulty conveying to the chef through the intermediaries of the hospitality just how I wanted my steak.
“Blue,” I said.
“Brue?” was the reply.
“Rare. Very, very rare.” I continued.
Look of total bewilderment.
I drag out my Personal Language Pro, speak “Steak, very, very rate” into the infernal gizmo, and hand the contraption to the attendant.
“珍しい、非常に珍しいステーキ?”[ Mezurashī, hijō ni mezurashī sutēki?]
“Raw! Nama!” I say, louder than need be.
They toddle off to find the chef.
“How is it sir, that you would like your steak cooked?” he asks.
“Very rare. Just a minute or two per side. Inside still cold.” I instructed.
All I got for the trouble was a puzzled smile.
“Give me the language gizmo…” I type in a few words…
“お尻を洗い、角をノックオフして、ここから出してください”
[O shiri o arai,-kaku o nokkuofu shite, koko kara dashite kudasai.]
“Wash its ass, knock its horns off, and walk it out here.”
“OH!” as the lightbulb pops. “Rare. Got it! Excellent!” the chef laughs and zips back to the kitchen.
Like I always say, I’m nothing if not the international ambassador of amity and goodwill.
“Crack tubes!”
Dinner was fantastic. I do wish I could have somehow mailed the Porterhouse bone back home for Khan. After that hambone incident, he might even taste it.
Finally on the plane, in an almost empty Business Class, the flight captain informs us that we’re headed to Haneda Airport Tokyo and anyone not headed in that direction better ‘haul ass off’ the flight or forever hold their peace.
Late-night international flights tend to be a bit more wooly than your average Chicago to Omaha gig.
Especially when the flight’s damn near empty and we have the next 12 hours or so to be best friends.
We taxi, turn and head into the wind. I’m doctoring up a couple of dossiers and keeping my personal cabin attendant, Luna since there were two of us in Business and two business flight attendants, busy with her trying to play ‘Stump the Geologist’.
“I’ll bet you never had this before.” She beamed and handed me a tumbler of very dangerous-looking brown liquor.
I cautiously sniff, take a modest gulp, swirl and glug the rest down.
“Ohishi Single Sherry Cask”, I say with a muffled belch. “Light. Fruity. An Englishman’s drink.”
“Oh. You knew. Let me try again.” She smiles beatifically.
“I have no objections to your proposal.” I smile as nicely as this crotchety old Komodo Dragon could.
She returns with another flagon of spirits; it smells of obsidian, leather, and earth.
I just had some of this back in LAX. I take a snort, smile, and shotgun the rest.
“Hibiki Japanese Harmony…lovely stuff.” I smile. “A little light for my jaded palate, but I’d never turn it down if it were free.”
“Oh, you win again. Wait. One more.” She smiles and skitters off to the galley.
She returns with another soupçon of some more dangerous brown liquor.
“Here, try this. It will make you very popular at social gatherings”. She smiles.
Sniff. “Splendid.” Snort. Swirl. Smile. Shotgun.
“Kanosuke New Born, if I’m not mistaken.” I smile back. “Very nice. I really do like this one.”
“You too good at this. One more!” she stands and stomps off defiantly. She returns in a trice and hands me the glass.
“Hmm…brown. Light notes of earth, leather, dating your daughter, and Kentucky…
“Beam Suntory, right?”
“You know them all!” she says, feigning irritation.
“And I thank you. Those were all excellent. Now, anything in the dangerous clear liquor category? I asked.
Luna smiled as I palmed off a 20k yen tip.
“Oh, no sir. Wait until we land.” She demurred, referring to the gratuity; which is know is not de rigueur in the Orient, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“Just in case we never make it to Tokyo”, I laughed, unknowingly presciently.
We both chuckled about that last line as she tried out various sakes and shōchūs and an actual Japanese ‘White Liquor’ (ホワイトリカー), which were all excellent as was the company.
I tell her that I need to get some work done and could she bring me a tall Rocknocker. After explain the origins and construction of the eponymous drink, she brings me one that must tip the scales at 1 or so liters.
She settles down to an empty seat and I get after the work that I need to finish before we land. I’m about ½ way through my drink when it felt as if the plane hit a brick wall. She quivered and quaked and clutched at herself while I made some comments about the pilot’s mental health.
We dropped like a paralyzed falcon, then just as suddenly, felt like it was an express elevator to Angel’s 11. The plane bucked and shimmied, wickedly. Then we slam-danced right and fell a few more stories. It was like we were in a Mixmaster and the owner was trying out every speed.
The emergency lights in the 777-300ER popped on, and the fasten seat belt sign barked loudly so even sleeping travelers could enjoy the show.
Rinse. Spin. Shudder. Repeat.
Finally, the ride smooths out and we hear the captain on the blower.
“This is your captain speaking…ah, we seem to have hit some uncharted turbulence back there.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious”, I muttered.
“Everything’s A-OK. “ he reports.
“That’s good”, I note.
“But…”
“There’s always the but…” I groan.
“…we have a couple of warning lights for which we can’t quite account. So to just be safe and certain, we’re going to divert to Hawaii, get a clean bill of health and resume this flight once we make sure everything here is hunky-dory.”
There were scattered groans and applause. Add them together and divide by two and the average response on the flight was “Meh. Whatever.”
Except for the other guy in Business, with whom I hadn’t shared two words. He began to absolutely lose his shit.
“Oh, man! We’re so screwed! Mechanical malfunction? What does that mean?” he positively fizzed with fear.
The flight attendants tried to calm him down, to no avail. They basically gave up and said they’d report his misgivings to the Captain.
I motioned over to my personal flight attendant, Luna, and asked if I could be of service.
“Oh, Doctor Rock”, she smiled at me, “If you could speak with him. You are so calm, and he is…”
“Losing his bloody mind”, I chuckled as I finished her sentence for her. “Of course, I’ll take a stab at it.”
So, I grab my drink and ease over to my Business Class partner and introduce myself.
“Hey, pal. How’s it going? I’m Dr. Rock, gentleman, scholar, and connoisseur of cigars and things alcoholic. You doing OK?”
He looks at me with an ashen face and his eyes the size of bloodshot dinner plates.
“Yeah. I’m Todd Schotts. I’m flying to Japan for business.” He mumbles
“No surprise there,” I reply calmly and take a slug of my drink.
“But now we’re all going to die. The plane is busted and we’ll crash…” he started off again.
“So, Todd is it? Good. You drink?” I asked.
“Yeah?”, he stammered back.
I asked Luna to make us a fresh batch of my eponymous cocktails.
“OK, Todd, listen up”, I began after the drinks were served, “I have flown literally millions of miles over the last 4 decades. On Aeroflot when it was still the USSR. On TACA (Take A Chance Airways), on Chalk’s in the Caribbean, on Bob’s Verrifast Plane Company in Rhodesia, on regional carriers that don’t even exist anymore. All over the world. Had some bad experiences flying, and me ol’ mugger, this ain’t one of them. This is nothing more than the glitch for this mission.”
I chuckled lightly and complimented Luna on a fantastic drink.
“Yeah…yeah…yeah…but we have to land and check out some lights…” Todd squealed.
“Well now, Todd. It would be rather difficult to do any external assessment while in flight, don’t you agree?” I asked.
“But we’re diverting. We have to land and that adds more risk. We’re going to crash and die!” he was coming more and more unglued.
“I will bet you every cent you have on your person and home bank accounts that that will not happen”, I chuckled.
That took him by surprise. At least it shut him up for a while.
“Look, Todd. This is Boeing’s latest model. They have the most incredible safety record. And if a little clear air turbulence were to be knocking planes out of the sky, don’t you think we’d hear about it as the press went berserk?” I asked.
“But they don’t know what the lights mean! What if one of the engines’s out? How far can we fly on one engine?” Todd stuttered.
Having my fill of a supposedly grown man with inane childlike fears, I calmly replied,
“All the way to the crash site.”
He went white.
“...hope we hit something hard. I don’t want to limp away from this.”
He went limp.
Then I went to my seat and motioned for Luna to prepare a reload.
Of course, 45 minutes later, we land without incident at Daniel K. Inouye International Airport, Honolulu Hawaii.
We were told to just wait around until they figure out what the problem if any, was.
They had officials waiting at the end of the jetway to check our COVID status and passports before they let us loose in the terminal.
I asked Luna if she knew this airport. She noted that she did.
“Is there a JAL hospitality room here at this airport? I asked.
“Yes, Doctor. It’s the Sakura Lounge. It is located on the third level above The Local, Terminal 2.” She replied.
“Please notify whoever needs to know that that’s where I’ll be for the duration”, I smiled and handed her my business card. “See you soon, I hope.”
“Oh, Dr. Rock”, she replied, “I am sure it is nothing much. We’ll be back in the air within mere hours.”
“Well then”, I smiled, “Guess I’d better get ready to hoof it to the lounge.”
“Oh, Doctor Rock”, she smiled, “No rush. I will call for you a courtesy cart. You are injured, you are Business, you are priority.”
“I love that Asian efficiency.” I smiled back and toddled down the jetway.
At the terminus of the jetway, I show my COVID-clear papers, dates and times of my Anti-Virus vaccine administrations, the letter from Virginia clearing me of all detention, and my red Russian diplomatic passport.
While in the cart, whizzing our way to the JAL lounge, the driver said “Man! You must be some kind of VIP. You were through that welcoming committee in less than two minutes!”
“Me? Nah!”, I chuckled, “Just an old phart of a geologist that they didn’t want to mess with. Not on such a bright, sunny day as this.”
“I see you’re not wearing a mask.” The driver quipped.
“Very observant. There are reasons for that.” I replied.
He careens around a corner and if this were a normal pre-Covid day, I’m certain we’d have killed hundreds. However, the airport, as I’ve come to grow accustomed to, was virtually deserted.
“Yeah? Like what?” he asks.
“Well, Scooter, 1. I have an active and hardworking immune system that I let off the chain every once in a while for exercise. Got to let it know what it’s up against, right? 2. I’ve had all my shots and some that were experimental. They seem to have worked. And 3. I find it difficult to drink and smoke cigars while wearing a mask. However, if you’d prefer, I will mask up. No problem, though it still is optional.”
“Nah, man”, he said, “I was just wondering if you were one of those religious idiots or conspiracy nuts.”
Nope”, I smiled back, “Just another geologist out in the world plying his trade for cash. Y’know, whorin’ around for money.”
He laughs aloud as we skid to a stop right in front of Lounge.
I slip the guy a $20 and ask if he’d listen for the JAL flight I was just on. If we’re going on ahead today, I’d need him to scoot by and putt-putt me back to the plane.
He laughs and pockets the $20 as quick as a mink ruts.
“No worries. I’ll just hang around this area. I hear anything about the flight, I’ll come and let you know.” He grins.
“Good man”, I say, as I hand him my card. “I’m Dr. Rocknocker. Call me Rock”.
“And I’m Kapula Mano, call me Kap” he replies.
“Good man”, I say again, “Hope to see you in a while.”
He grins, floors his electric cart, and peels out at speeds approaching 4.5 MPH.
I wander into the lounge, show my credentials, and am escorted to a post up on Mahogany Ridge.
The bar is very quiet. Besides the bartender, I can’t see anyone else in the darkened and Smooth Jazz-infused drinking emporium.
I order a local drink, a Mai Tai, just for the experience and something a bit different.
It’s served in a goldfish bowl on a stem, bedecked with a slice of lime, a sprig of mint, a stick of sugar cane, a polychromatic orchid, and the obligate paper umbrella.
“Ah. Mai Tai. I will enjoy it.” I said to no one in particular.
One was enough, and I decided to go back to the old standard. Once I explained to the bartender what that was, he made them heroic and enthusiastically.
I’m reading up on a random dossier, making notes in a new file, and puffing away on a Fuentes Onyx double Maduro Churchill cigar.
I hear a slight cough coming from my right, and this here lovely lady, she sat to my immediate starboard and looked at me semi-quizzically.
Not in the mood for shenanigans of any stripe, I give her the obligate Baja Canada nod and tilt of the drink. I return to my dossiers and continue to read and take notes.
“Excuse me!” I hear.
Fearing the worst, either the woman is Karen-oid anti-smoking or a religious fruit-and-nutburger, I slowly turn to face her and reply, somewhat glacially, I have to admit.
“What?”
“That cigar…”
“Here we go…” I mutter, eyes rolling northward.
“Smells exquisite. Could you tell me the brand? My husband would enjoy some like that.” She notes.
Instantly my demeanor switches 180^0.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s an Arturo Fuentes Onyx. Churchill size, or 60 ring x 7” length, double Maduro. Here, take one for your husband. I have an ample supply.” I smile.
“Oh, no. I couldn’t. Could I?” she asks.
“Please. I insist.” I smile the best I could given the circumstances.
“Thank you. You’re too kind…umm…Mr….?”
“Doctor. Doctor Rocknocker. World traveler, oilman, and international ambassador of amity, good drinks, and fine cigars. Call me Rock” I said.
“Oh! A Doctor?” she brightens.
“Yes, of Petroleum Geology and Engineering. Not medicine.” I chuckle.
She chuckles back.
“And I am Hella Aaberg”, as she offers her hand for a quick shake.
“Interesting name, Hella. Scandinavian or Old German heritage?” I ask.
“On my father’s side. He’s Finnish.” She replies.
“But I’ll wager your mother is not Scandinavian, correct?” I ask.
“She was from Truk, an island…”
“In the South Pacific, Micronesia. Was she from Weno city?” I asked.
“Why yes. How could you possibly know that?” she asked.
“Oh, I’ve been there. Great diving amongst the WWII wrecks. I think it’s actually called ‘Chuuk Lagoon’ or something like that now.” I said.
“That’s right! Amazing. Where else have you been?” she asked.
“Anywhere there’s oil, strife, booze, cigars, heavy explosives and typically long distances from whatever most normal people call civilization,” I replied with a chuckle.
Suddenly, I hear a voice booming out behind me.
“Why don’t you save that rapier-like wit for those musky-fuckers back home, Rocko?”
My expression changes. My eyes pop fully wide open.
“Hella?” I asked.
“Yes?”
“May I ask you a favor?”
“You can ask…”
“Thank you. Now, looking over my shoulder, is there a hulking goon of a person, thin up top, paunchy halfway down with the most ridiculously tiny sized shoes you’ve ever seen for a so-called grown man?” I ask.
“Yes. Yes, there is.” She replies.
“I thought so. Many thanks.”
I spin and launch off my barstool and grab Toivo by the hand. He hadn’t seen my left-hand Thagomizer yet.
“Toivo! You old sumbitch. What the flying fennec fox fuck are you, of all people, doing in Hawaii?” I laughed.
“Just keeping an eye on you, Rock!” he laughed equally as loud.
“No, fucking-A, seriously. What the actual fuck? What are you doing in this actual nice place?” I asked.
“Just headed to Tokyo to conduct a bit of service company business. I walked into the lounge and smelled a foul cigar. I figured it can’t be the venerable Dr. Rocknocker. He’s back at some school up north terrorizing geology and engineering grads and undergrads.” Toivo laughed.
“But there I was. Surprise!”, I laughed and pumped his hand.
“What the fuck, Rock. Now what did you do?” he asks, referring to my Ankylosaur tail club left hand.
“Ah, fuck. Long story. Oh, pardon me. Toivo, this is Hella. We were just talking about the South Seas Islands.” I said.
“Planning on running off together?” Toivo laughs, to the amusement of neither party.
“Oh, and this idiot is Toivo, a man with a congenital foot-in-mouth disorder. He’s mostly harmless.” I noted to Hella.
Greetings were shared all around. Hella made some small excuses and said she needed to depart. I gave her another cigar for her husband, shook her hand, and wished her well.
“Here’s my business card. If your husband has any questions, have him drop me a line.” I noted.
Hella smiled beautifully. She said she would. Then she thanked me shook our hands, and like that, there she was, gone.
“Well Toivo, you old bastard. Don't just stand there in the doorway like some lonesome goddamn mouse shit sheepherder, get your ass over here and have a drink.” I motioned over to my perch on Mahogany Ridge.
“Don’t mind if I do”, he says as he deftly winds his way to a seat to my left, snagging a cigar out of my pocket on the way over.
“You might want these”, I say in an exasperated tone, and hand him my gold Dunhill Hobnail lighter and V-cutter gizmo.
He cuts and fires up his heater.
“What you drinkin’, Rock”, he asks.
“Anything with alcohol, as usual. You know that Toiv.” I reply.
“No. I mean right now.” He clarifies.
“Well, I had a Mai Tai. Very nice if you like fruity, flowery drinks. It’s the locals’ favorite.” I reply.
“Sounds good. I’ll have several. And you?” Toivo asks.
“My usual. The bartender is already apprised of the situation.” I reply.
Toivo smiles the smile of one knowing his sobriety is going to be taken out for a swim. Hell, taken out and tossed into the deep end.
Toivo and I sit there, swapping lies, smoking cigars and sipping at our toddies.
Hell, Toivo was slurping them like a sump-pump during an extra-wet summer.
We chattered about family, work, whether or not Tokyo was going to host the Olympics or if the COVID-boogie man scared everyone off.
Toivo, always one afflicted with TB (“Tiny Bladder”) got up to go to the loo for the third time that hour. He left his pocket organizer on the bar and I swear on a stack of Origins of Species, I didn’t touch it.
I reached over to his vacated seat to retrieve my cigar lighter when I looked down and saw in his organizer a tab that reads “Rack & Ruin”.
“Oh. No. Fucking. Way.” I recoiled as I’d just reached out and petted a 6-foot hungover scorpion.
“One of my best friends? Secretly allied with the Agency? No. Not possible.” I drained my drink and called for another.
“No. No. No. It can’t be. No. No fucking way…” as doubt began to dissolve when I thought back to all those times I had just ‘run into’ Toivo.
“But he’s oil patch as well. That could be chalked up to coincidence.” I ruminated quizzically in my brain.
I quickly reflected back on J.M. Darhower: “Yes, you see, there’s no such thing as coincidence. There are no accidents in life. Everything that happens is the result of a calculated move that leads us to where we are.”
She may be the author of the execrable New Adult Sempre series, which Esme likes and I loathe, but she might just be right on this occasion.
Toivo return, lighter in the bladder and good sense. He never even noticed he’d left his organizer out in broad bar light for all to see.
“So, Toivo, when’s your flight?” I ask.
“Oh, man. Was I lucky. The JAL flight to Tokyo from Los Angeles had mechanical trouble and had to divert here. I got a ticket on the plane for that flight, when it continues.
“You mean ‘if it continues’,” I replied.
“Yeah. Yeah. That’s what I meant. Hey! Was that your flight?” he asks innocently. He’s really innocent of fieldcraft.
I decide to have some fun at my old friend’s expense.
“Yep. Hit some CAT (Clear Air Turbulence) and the JAL pilots reported some lighting problem. No apparent ruin to any of the systems. They relay racked their brains to figure it out, but they couldn’t that’s why I here.” I said, waiting for the words to swim upstream in Toivo’s coconut and make some sort of connection.
“Yeah. Double lucky. No problem with the plane and I get to go to Japan early.” Toivo crookedly grins.
“So, no trouble with the plane? Then why haven’t I heard that the flight’s going to resume?” I asked as I pushed a fresh, seriously strong drink to Toivo.
“Oh, must have heard it in the john.” Toivo countered and tried to cover his tracks by taking a huge gulp of his drink and damn near dying coughing.
I pound on Toivo’s back.
“Heimlich time?” I ask.
Toivo signals ‘no’.
“Jesus Christ, Rock. What was that?” he asks.
“Just my usual”, I innocently replied.
“Holy fuck. No wonder you have the reputation of…” Toivo realizes too late that he’s said too much.
“Yeah. They can rack you out. Really ruin a person if they’re not careful.” I reply icily.
“Why, Rock. Whatever do you mean?” Toivo slurred as he realized he’s been caught out.
“The jig is up, you turncoat. You know Agents Rack and Ruin from the agency. Right? You keeping tabs on me for them? You Quisling! You Benedict Arnold!” I almost was on the verge of losing my cool.
“It was nothing. They approached me years ago as I kept being mentioned in your reports. They asked me for some information. One thing leads to another…” Toivo was ready for an Ankylosaur tail club swat to the bean.
“Oh, put your fucking hands down, you asshole.” I smiled and chuckled.
“You’re not mad?” Toivo slurred badly. I had the bartender make him another special drink.
“No, Toivo. Not mad. Just disappointed.” I said, smiling like a Komodo Dragon just finishing up a fortnight-old wildebeest.
Toivo sat there and puzzled and puzzled until his puzzler was sore.
“You’re not going to kill me or anything rude like that?” Toivo asked, half-assedly trying to inject humor into the proceedings.
“Nah. The paperwork’s too ridiculous for me to do another liberation. But, Jesus Fucking Christwagons, Toivo; you could have mentioned it to me. Fuck, I thought we were friends to the end?” I said, dejectedly.
I was really getting through to Toivo. I could tell he was loaded; feeling like shit and massively deplorable.
Great fieldcraft, indeed.
I told him things “are what they are” and that I won’t blow his cover nor his honorarium.
He began to feel better. I often wonder if he was serious about the sanctioning thing.
Then I delivered the strategic missile strike.
“Just remember, Toivo. I wrote your dossier for the Company…”
He swivels to look at me.
“And one for the KGB. Olga says ‘howdy’.” I grin evilly.
Toivo short-circuited at that. Russia is his company’s bread and butter. Now he has the KGB as well as his best buddy looking over his shoulder at every move.
I bought him a few more drinks and continued to needle him about his ’leading a double life’. He was well and truly fuckered when the electric tap-tap driver from before came looking for me to whisk me back to the plane.
Seems it was simply some knocked-out wires on the plane, or slammed bulbs that were generating a false positive, indicating something other than the system that alerts one to something haywire went haywire.
Toivo was pretty much down for the count. I got him sober enough to hand them his ticket and ensure that he was really supposed to be on this flight. Thing was; h e was in Economy, and I was, as always, in Business.
I spoke to Luna, and the plane was going to be even less crowded than previously because some folks could or wouldn’t wait, or didn’t want to go on with the rest of the trip on a ‘damaged’ aircraft, or were just stupid and superstitious.
“Luna, could I pay for the difference between Business and Economy for my less than 100% conscious friend here? He’s had a rough day.” I asked.
“Dr. Rock. Just put him into Business. No one will be the wiser. Luna says so.” As she gave us a grand smile.
“Luna, I owe you. Thanks so much.” I said.
“Now get on board. Your friend looks like he needs all the downtime he can get.”
“Yes, ma’am!” I said and saluted here be best I could which dragging a schnozzled Toivo down the jetway.
I dumped Toivo in a window seat well away from my seat. I know Toivo. He snores like a semi-load of live hogs rocketing downhill locking up the brakes at 88 MPH.
Surprise! There was no one else in Business. Luna looked at me, at Toivo, and gave me a thumbs up.
Whatever I can write to further her career at JAL, she’ll have it before I deplane.
We finally get everyone settled, and with Captain Kangaroo at the helm, we bounced gracelessly off the tarmac, into the warm, tropical Hawaiian air, finally headed for the Land of the Rising Sun.
Toivo was snoring like a chainsaw hitting rusty nails as I worked on the various letters, communiques, and dossiers which needed updating before we reached touchdown. I gave Luna a thick letter with instructions not to open it until we were on the ground and Toivo and I were well off and away into the terminal.
We left Hawaii at 1300 hours, so we should arrive at Tokyo Nareda around 4:00 pm, the previous day. I was so bereft of time and time zones, I couldn’t figure out what time it really was, as judged by my biometric rhythms, so I asked Luna for a stiff drink as I was kicking off my boots and going to attempt to get some kip.
She brought me another liter or so eponymous drink. I was sawing logs by the time I slurped the last swig of that nifty drink.
Suddenly, or later, I have no idea really, some loudmouth drunk asshole from way-the-fuck-back in economy-land toward the ass end of the plane staggered into Business demanding free drinks.
Luna was nothing but civil, and asked him to both shut up and return to his seat. His air cabin hostess, or whatever the fuck they’re calling them these days, will attend to his needs.
“Naw they won’t! They want me to pay for more drinks! I’m broke but I demand more booze! You fucking owe me.” railed the asshole. “I sat at the bar in Hawaii for four hours. Them fuckers charged me an arm and a leg!”
“No, they don’t owe you shit”, I said in a voice that unmistakably loud and clear.
“Fuck you, old man! You stay the fuck out of this!” he bellowed. “Shut up or I’ll do ya’!”
“’Old man’? ‘Do me’? Excuse me. Luna, may I have a word alone with this individual?” I asked sweetly.
Luna shook her head in the affirmative, and I stood up to confront this flagrant asshole.
“Now look, Scooter. You have gone way, way over the fucking line. You are loud. You are abusive. You are obnoxious. And you stink. Plus you insulted a person who is just barely containing his righteous wrath right now. So, I’m giving you one and one only chance to shut up, sit back down before your body spontaneously develops all sort of bruises, contusions, broken bones, and unconsciousness.” I said calmly, evenly, and threateningly.
“What da’ fuck you think you’re going to do…old man?” he screeched, trying to inflate himself into full mammalian threat posture, all 5’ 9” of it.
He didn’t notice Toivo walking up quietly behind him, as Toivo was returning from the head, quiet as a moose.
“Well, Scooter, I am an Air Marshall. Duly appointed, fully trained, and properly pissed off. Right now, I can arrest you, physically detain you, turn this flight around and take you to the Hawaiian police, at your cost for the inconvenience of the entire flight. Or I could arrest you, physically detain you, and turn you over to the Japanese authorities when we land. It’s really your choice. Choose wisely.”
To be continued…⇝

RR link
Previous chapter (RETRO COSMOS)
​ #2 - THE TWISTED HEIST ​
A star had just gone out in the distance, sending its entire system, planets and moons, into oblivion. So, what was a simple life compared to a sun? Did the human existence that earthlings highly cherished in the past deserve so much fuss?
I would say no, of course, because I’m a cat. Our condition to us felines will never have to pale in front of a shiny astronomical object. Mine specifically, don’t you think?
Oswald Avery was merely a Homo sapiens. A retired buccaneer, fermenting his adulterated wine on the carcass of a drifting supercargo; all under the remodeled features of a former Galactic Trade Company’s pilot. Alas, regardless of the genetic disguise, the FID rarely lied. It hadn’t fooled us and the masks had fallen off. Just like him.
I’m such a poet.
Anyway… Avery had had a long life of crimes and adventures. He was full of energy in his youth. And as in the universe, nothing is lost, nothing is created, everything is transformed, this energy was reincarnated in a nice amount in our bank account once the old picaroon flatlined.
“We finally got it! And it was a traditional Martian contract. Payable remotely, on condition that the FID is validated. How about that?”
“God… Lee … you’re talking to yourself and it’s only 8 a.m.,” Ali grunted behind me.
My couch potato of an associate had her head still stuck in the cereal box she was nibbling before falling asleep binge-watching Captain Caveman on ABC.
“To begin with, it’s 8 p.m., Martian Time. And we do have a positive balance in our bank account for the first time in months! Do you know what that means, partner?”
“Shopping, bitches!” she shouted as she hurled herself into the void, gliding to the bathroom in the weightlessness.
With the cardboard box on the top of her head, this sugar bishop was swimming after the remnant cereals that floated on her path like Ms. Pac-Man.
“Hell! Have I just opened Pandora’s box?”
The liner Danaë and its forty-eight post-nuclear Baltimore-XVIII heavy reactors made its annual cruise from Lunapolis to the suburbs of Ceres, in the belt. Its figurehead with the effigy of the Greek princess was a two hundred meters long, green ceramic statue. The size of the ship exceeded some inhabited asteroids’ diameter so it possessed its own substantial gravitational field.
“It’s quite a symbol of the decline of humanity,” I said to Ali, pointing with my chin at this unique work of art.
“Why?” my partner asked without caring whatsoever. “Spill the beans, Plato.”
The Kitty had obtained permission to dock and began its approach. I concluded then:
“Humanity no longer erects great and beautiful things without turning them into a shopping mall.”
The gold and ivory Danaë was one of the most luxurious epicenters of human decadence in the system; comprising hotels, casinos, megastores and amusement parks spread over a dozen centrifugal rings. There was something for everyone’s wallet, ready to be emptied, whether one was welcomed at the port or had joined during the crossing.
And to my great regret, the cape of the Danaë was just passing by us that week.
“I believe we should keep our savings for the maintenance of the Swallow. The dashboard lights up like a Christmas tree. Some parts need to be changed…”
“You’re such a bore with your adult talks,” my partner said as she left the fitting room of a luxury chain overlooking the main deck. “What do you think of that? Sexy as fuck, right?”
Her camisole didn’t hide a single inch square of flesh and I subtly pointed it out to her:
“It’s a bit of a back-alley Sally.”
I took a blow on the nose which, this time, was amply justified.
“There’s nothing chicer than Borderline. You don’t know anything about fashion. It’s crazy!”
She was furious. It was entertaining. But she was right. The human female fads were way over my head and I wasn’t a good adviser. Mostly because I didn’t care. At all.
Fortunately, the upscale shopping mall where we were staying had provided us with a free assistant who was even more servile than a decerebrate canine. As usual, the robot carrier that accompanied us did the job by flattering her with its unbearable honeyed tone:
“I find you charming, Madame. Here we have the latest fashionable lingerie on Mars. It’s an ephemeral collection that appears to have been specially made to mold your discreet curves, which seem to have been sculpted by the seraphim.”
Ali gave me a satisfied look that I pretended to ignore. Then she backtracked into the fitting room to put her black suit and pink jacket back on.
I took the opportunity to climb on the shoulders of this silly robot, servant of our servants and last link in this hierarchy whose origins go back to Ancient Egypt.
“One more move like this and I’ll turn you into a gum dispenser.”
The automaton apologized before my partner’s head emerged from behind the silk curtains which were far too fragrant for my taste.
“I just checked; it’s too expensive anyway. I ain’t buying it,” she announced. “Can you order a taxicab to take us to the hotels’ ring? You’d be a sweetheart.”
Happy to leave this irascible human with her robotic slave, I proceeded to the nearest service terminal. By the time I requested a vehicle, a flying cigarette dispenser could light me a Lucky.
“It’s forbidden to smoke in our store, Monsieur.”
The customer attaché, in his blue silk suit with elephant legs, had appeared out of nowhere. Yet, with such a shiny tie, this punk should have dazzled me from the Kuiper belt.
“Please be kind and get me a Pepper Coke instead of ruining my eyesight…” I grumbled in response.
I was in an awful mood. I definitely hated shopping. And people. Yet the pedestrian avenues of the Danaë had a very exceptional population density. Perms were making a strong comeback, as were neon tattoos and overly open flowered shirts. Under the false UVA/B sun, it was a true dance of flesh, steel and plastic bodies with assumed nudity. Implants and surgery erased the hazards of the genetic lottery for better or worse. It was so superficial. So futile. So human.
“Hello, handsome!” Ali cried out, a large smile across her face. “Lee? You didn’t tell me you knew Christophe Lambert! You know I'm a huge Highlander fan!”
My partner had just joined me, arms loaded with bags massive enough to live in it, start a family and park my chromic Pontiac Firebird. All were filled with C$400 t-shirts and sneakers that she didn’t need and would only put on once.
“No smell. Hologram,” I conclude by throwing my cigarette butt through the smiling ghost.
“Shame!” Ali sighed.
She then looked at her terminal, and continued:
“Do you think I have time to grab a watch module? There are sales in the Japanese aisle! I saw some GD-8 that would go well with my new Game Pocket! This boat is fucking rad!”
Ali could not stop humming Who wants to live forever. I had to rub my temples to avoid a migraine before the arrival of our taxicab five minutes later.
These were miniature limousines with double fake leather benches, facing each other at the back. There was a minibar with expensive multicolored drinks and sugar-soaked snacks, the sapiens’ primary source of calories and high Gs space travel drug. For the sensitive, the smart-fridge provided diet sodas with aspartame, but no one took it. Finally, there were free Gauloise cigarettes next to the ashtray on the armrest. And even Tylenol!
“What a time to be alive!”
Right after leaving the fashion district, a soft voice of a young woman, who appeared to us through the armored porthole separating her from her customers, finally emerged from the cockpit:
“Good evening! I’m Miss Meera. At your service. Hotel de Saint-Malo, correct?”
I nodded. She smiled at us. She was beautiful with her incredibly dark night metal skin that contrasted strongly with her silvery-white hair. She also had charming ivory eyes with absolutely no reflection. They were a mesmerizing void of light.
In fact, it was so rare to deal with a real person, and not an AI, that we engaged rapidly in a lovely and honest discussion with Meera. We were mostly talking about life on the Danaë. As she stated, the rules on board were very strict, even military. All was done to make sure that the customer had the most pleasant time at the expense of everything else. Finally, according to her, her condition wasn’t the most to be pitied in the cosmos. And she was fully satisfied with this precarious semi-nomadic existence.
“And what about you? Are you here on vacation or in transit for work?” she eventually asked. “What do you do for a living?”
Should we have told her that we were executing infamous people so Ali would collect expensive t-shirts and I could fulfill my nicotine addiction?
“Don’t get me wrong but I saw that you had a gun. Are you in the police… or are you pirates?”
It wasn’t the first time someone asked us this question. Although weapons were allowed on most ships and stations, it wasn’t wise to display them unless you were looking for trouble. Unfortunately, hiding such a large caliber under such a tight vest was a Herculean task.
“You can get much farther with a kind word and a gun than you can with a kind word alone”, simply quoted Ali, her forehead against the window covered with scented stickers.
Meera laughed before continuing:
“Very well, Al Capone. I understand that you’re not the type to let yourself be taken advantage of.”
The taxicab entered the central expressway after the water park then suddenly swerved violently to the left.
“What is going on?” I gasped.
After crushing the safety railing, we fell from one rotating bridge to the other in a frantic cavalcade. Judging by Meera’s swear words, this ride wasn’t part of the show.
Avoiding the stalls of an art market and a group of children coming out of an arcade, the driver finally managed to recover in extremis. It was about time, because within seconds we were passing through the transparent protective wall of the hotels’ deck.
“A thousand apologies! Another one of those mor… clients from the Middle System who doesn’t know how to use a rental car,” she shouted through the window. “Are you guys hurt?”
“No, thanks to you,” I replied, my tail spiked over my head, taped to Ali’s neck now decorated with bloody scratches.
Although my human forehead now had a bump on it the size of a golf ball, it was true that Meera had just saved our lives. This young girl had unsuspected driving talents despite taxicabs’ lack of handling. She didn’t belong here, playing the steward in a yellow circus uniform. This woman should have been a fighter pilot; or a NASCAR driver on Canyon Creek.
“In any case, here you’re almost in front of your hotel,” she replied. “You don’t have to pay anything, and I apologize again for the scare.”
From the outside, the taxicab now looked like a can of nutrigel after going through a crusher. Yet, it still worked. May God Darwin bless Venusian steel.
After thanking her, we wished Meera a good day. But the cockpit window suddenly went down on the passenger side. The smile of the driver had faded. She had tears at the corner of her white eyes.
“Wait!” she asked. “This weapon… do you really know how to use it?”
So, life on the Danaë wasn’t so sweet. As Meera explained to us in a secluded alleyway, a trio of criminals had come to threaten her a few days earlier, after finding she was a bodacious driver. They were preparing a heist in one of the flying city’s fifty casinos. The young woman was now ready to pay the price to settle the case.
“What is your opinion about this whole situation?” I asked Ali, once in our room, a small yet cozy suite whose glass walls overlooked the vacuum of space.
My human had applied a brownish ointment on her hump, which disappeared soon after, leaving only a slight pinkish hematoma.
“Meera said she would provide us with more details tomorrow. However, if she ponies up the cash, I don’t see why we would refuse. We ain’t mercs but these three guys must have a bounty on their heads. Let’s do our job, right?
“Indeed…”
All we had to do was wait for more instructions. Fortunately, it had been months since we had been able to take days off except on miserable gas stations full of drug addicts, implants scavengers and prostitutes.
After another morning of shopping, Ali went to the thalassotherapy center of the neighboring hotel. Her main occupation? Overeating sushi made by 3D nutrigel printing while getting massages.
Alas, I didn’t have the time to bask under the false sun of the lakeside resort and get my belly stroked. As a good captain, I had to go to the maintenance to fix the numerous damages of the Kitty. As always, the bill would be higher than expected.
Everything was orchestrated so that we would never hold a positive balance in this corrupted system. We had to chain contract after contract.
But Meera’s gig didn’t sound right. There was something I didn’t like and I couldn’t catch it yet. All my cat sensors were in the red. Unfortunately, the bounty hunter’s ones only saw the green of the bills.
Don’t judge me.
The young taxicab driver had finally contacted Ali again by holoconference in the early afternoon, shortly before I joined her at the exit of the tanning booths. Or as I called them: human toasters.
“Have you finished roasting like a Thanksgiving turkey?” I asked her as she plunged into the icy water of the adjacent basin, under the lustful gaze of a group of cadets from the Marine Academy.
“Meera will pick us up with a new taxicab in the hotel parking lot,” she whispered once back to me. “Alongside her, we will meet two of the criminals at the burglary location, shortly before midnight.”
“Go on.”
“We take care of these guys and we catch up with the last one: the band leader, in the storage cavities of the hangar reserved for the ship’s logistics. Below the last rotating ring.”
In Eve’s costume, Ali came out of the basin, not without deliberately drenching me. The water had a nasty chemical taste from being filtered day after day.
“Do you have any intelligence on these jokers?” I insisted while lighting a cigarette.
“The Broadway Gang. Three brothers. C$45,000 for the trio. We will also be able to recover at least C$10,000 of Techno-federal tax on their ship depending on its condition. Easy cash with the dollar credits that Meera promises us…”
Now sitting on the ledge, my partner splashed her feet to demonstrate her eagerness to head back swimming.
“Excellent! This will pay for the maintenance and allow us to save some money on our way to the belt.”
“Can I go now?” she asked, sliding back into the water.
“You may,” I had concluded before seeing her leave for her absurd wanderings that would fill her afternoon.
I myself was very busy making eyes at the wealthy guests of the hotel restaurant to glean a few pieces of Peking duck or juicy crabs. They were real farm animals from Mars. Not nutrigel. It was worth abandoning a little dignity aside.
With a full belly, I finally joined Ali in the middle of the evening. Arriving in the corridor of our suite, I crossed the group of cadets noticed near the swimming pool. They seemed tired but blissfully smiling as they just discovered the nirvana. And I knew why…
“Ali? Are you ready?” I said as I walked through the half-open bedroom door.
Her dressing gown had been thrown on the floor. Her gun and badge were resting on the bedside table against a giant bottle of Koala Springs soda and a pyramid of little Yoyo Mints.
To be honest, I expected a bigger mess.
“Gimme five minutes,” she replied while in the shower.
An hour later, we met Meera in the staff parking lot behind the recycling stations. Without further discussion, we joined the expressway in the taxicab. Between two noisy info-ads, the radio played Sweet Transvestite then the rest of the mythical Rocky Horror soundtrack.
“I wonder what Tim Curry’s up to these days,” asked Ali while browsing the intraweb on her implant.
“Being legendary as usual,” I answered.
Afterwards, the casino was in sight. But once on the forecourt illuminated by the gold and silver bulbs, we heard gunshots and screams. My partner and I quickly realized that this was a violent robbery rather than a modest heist.
“What the fuck, Meera?” Ali asked, turning to the porthole that separated us from the cockpit.
There was a hint of irritation in her voice.
Meera remained mute, her hands on the wheel and her gaze forward. In the rear-view mirror the young woman looked panicked.
The right door of the vehicle suddenly opened and two men sat down in front of us. They were wearing theater masks: the first was Melpomene, the sad grimace of tragedy; the second, Thalia, the twisted smile of comedy. Each brigand carried a huge metal block under his arm; drawers that were sure to be full of cash. On the other hand, they held their still smoking ZeG-4 machine guns even more firmly.
When they saw us, they both gasped, in unison:
“What the fuck, Meera?”
One… two. One… two.
Four holes in their faded tuxedo. Four bullets as big as a cat’s eye that silenced them forever, before slowly repainting the bench in red.
“What the fuck was that? You killed them!” Meera shouted this time, as she started the electric engine. “You had tasers at your disposal, you psychos!”
She had finally turned around. Her voice was quivering. She was no longer panicked, but angry.
The tasers must have slipped between the seats because I hadn’t seen them. My partner raised her eyebrows and it made me realize that their use had never been in mind.
“We’re bounty hunters, not 9 to 5 social workers!” continued Ali. “Now, you gotta motor, otherwise the cops will shoot our ass on the spot before we could even meet the third dude!”
Meera put her foot on the pedal and one could almost hear the noise of the thrusters melting the white asphalt.
“I can perceive the sirens, Ali,” I concluded before Meera entered the ring's external road reserved for logistic transport.
We then had the shortest car chase we had taken part in. The Danaë security forces may not have had the best elements in the system, but Meera’s talents didn’t give them a chance. We had crossed half a dozen rotative bridges to the rhythm of Take on Me, zigzagging between expressways and maintenance tunnels to arrive before the song ended at the deserted logistics hangar.
It was similar to a huge supermarket with honeycombed shelves. Each of these garages, dimly illuminated by red LEDs, housed a delivery or transport vessel. There was the most impressive fleet I had ever seen.
In one of the first level’s cells stood, between a set of clamps, a Swift-0 scout, from Peugeot Corp, with wings spread. The Swifts were small and very high-end single-seaters. They could be modified to integrate weapons systems, but their primary characteristics were velocity and evasion.
Leaning on the flank of the mono-turbine, the last of the three criminals, a tall blond man with a “Chevy Chase” prominent chin was looking down on the approaching taxicab.
“Were they planning to escape on that ship? The three of them?” I remarked when the vehicle stopped a few meters from the small vessel.
But Meera ignored me.
“Hand me the money, I’m going out. That was the agreement.”
The porthole opened at its base, allowing us to pass the steel cash drawers. Once the taxicab’s ignition was turned off, only their holographic numbers glowed in the dark.
“It’s all over if his cronies don’t stick their noses out of the car,” Ali replied, finally giving the second drawer away. “He’s going to figure out that it went south. He will kill you!”
Outside, the man was getting impatient. Blinded by the taxicab’s headlights, he came closer before exclaiming:
“Zéphyr, are you there? Where are my brothers? Security is closing all the departure modules. We will be stuck here, for fuck’s sake!”
He now had a gun in his hand. A machine gun identical to those of his companions currently bathed in their blood, nailed to the seats.
“Zéphyr? Wait… I know that name!” I meowed to myself.
The doors and portholes of the taxicab were locked. Ali and I were now stuck in the back with the two flatlined and most wanted criminals on the ship.
“Sorry guys, but I’ll handle the rest.”
Miss Meera, alias Zéphyr, smiled at us through the armored glass just before leaving the cockpit by the driver’s door.
“What a fucking piece of shit… Lee? Do you have a plan? I think the windows are bulletproof. I don’t feel like testing. Especially if it’s bouncing around with us inside, we will be turned into ground beef!”
“Did you forget who I am, my dear?”
I was already crawling under the seat, between a pair of Méduse shoes and half nibbled fried rat wings. It was time to demonstrate all my infiltration skills learned from Ninja Gaiden. Unfortunately, both the crab and the duck slowed me down and my belly remained for a few seconds stuck under the driver’s seat with my head on the brake pedal. How outrageous!
From the porthole, I saw Ali watching what was happening in front of us, near the ship. Our eyes met for a brief moment and I could read on her lips: “diet kibble”.
“Better off dead!” I shouted.
My paw reached the bottom of the dashboard, activating the mechanical opening of doors and windows. And, accidentally, the loudest horn in this dimension.
“My bad!”
My sapiens immediately jumped outside, pointing her gun to Zéphyr. Surprised by the thunderous din, her target pivoted towards us, uncovered, turning her back to the human with the magnificent chin and his ZeG-4 who yelled:
“What in the whole universe is that? Wait! I know her! Did you bring us bounty hunters? You were clearly planning to double-cross us!”
The man shouted and his gun produced a rain of bullets. It first hit the windshield of the taxicab, passing through the conductor compartment where I was. The rounds bent the windscreen, but it held. This wasn’t, however, the case for the hood, protecting the engine and the reservoir full of coolant, which ended up covering the seat and my face.
Fortunately, the sticky alcohol allowed me to escape from this trap and jump out of the vehicle through the window I had previously opened. But, once again, a fire ring enveloped the ZeG-4’s cannon.
“This is how I die…” I meowed, eyes closed.
I was violently tackled and hit the ground. Zéphyr had saved me at the last moment, just before bullets obliterated the front of the taxicab.
Other projectiles ricocheted off the metal money drawers on the floor and got lost in the ceiling, activating the fire sprinklers. This incident triggered a silent light alarm throughout the hangar while the mobster prepared a new salvo.
“Don’t hurt my pilot, you narbo!” roared my partner.
Ali, this time taken as a target, retaliated. She fired a single shot towards the rascal with a formidable precision. No one knew how to handle such a heavy gun as she did. She was my human. She was the best in her field: murder.
And I taught her everything. Almost.
The leader of the robbers tried to reload the magazine of his weapon, unaware that his heart had been punctured a few seconds before. Adrenaline was doing its job. But the blood loss caused by the explosion of the aorta at its base, near the ventricles, gradually stopped him in his gesture. His pressure dropped and the bloodstream no longer reached the brain sufficiently. He was already in a coma when his shoulders touched the ground. He was luckier than the average Joe and died a few seconds later.
“Is everything all right?”
My voice was trembling, still in shock from this disaster. I was wet and frozen.
Zéphyr got up with difficulty. Next to us, one of the metal drawers was opened, revealing a bunch of green bills and a much stranger booty: an eight-inch gold diskette with suspicious Chinese symbols.
Well… I couldn’t read them but Chinese symbols on stuff are always suspect, aren’t they?
But there were more important matters. Because my partner, on the other hand, stayed on the ground. Blood was dripping from her black suit and mixed with the clear firefighting fluid that was falling like an endless rain.
I tried to talk to her again but my voice was lost in a groan.
“Why are you whining, you big baby? It’s just blood.”
With her nose in a puddle, my sapiens smiled at me. Her left hand was compressing her abdomen. The bullet had passed through the external oblique muscle, far from the stomach.
It wasn’t that bad after all but she had scared me. And that deserved a scratch on the wrist that made her scream:
“What the fuck?”
“And the medical expenses? Have you thought about medical expenses? We don’t have insurance!”
“God, Uncle Scrooge! I hate you!”
“We won’t be able to fix the Kitty with your heroic outbursts!” I fulminated to mask my joy of seeing her in one piece.
“I will kill you, Muppet! I almost died! I don’t give a fuck about your rusty trash can which flies like a brick!”
It was true that we hadn’t had a fight for a long time.
“Guys…” intervened Zéphyr.
“What?”
Ali and I had spoken together.
“These three ruffians had planned to steal the diskette drive from me once I got back. I needed a hand, so… thank you… I guess.”
“You’re welcome,” my human answered dryly while sitting.
Although Zéphyr saved me, I didn’t share the same kindness:
“Wait, we’re not letting him go! Do you know who he is?”
Zéphyr. Prince of thieves. And yes, he wasn’t much of a princess either. Just an androgynous cyborg. A breakout king wanted throughout the entire system for his affiliation with the Data Brokers’ Guild. With an incredible bounty of C$800,000, she or he… whatever… was the knight of the brokers’ chessboard.
“I think we’ve had enough for today,” Ali said. “Unless you hope to go after him with these big fat guts of yours.”
“By the 79 moons of Jupiter, you shall pay for this, woman!” I meowed, angry.
My ears were backwards and my hairs were spiky. But soaking wet, it just made Ali and Zéphyr laugh.
Disgrace!
“He’s so cute when he’s furious,” he joked.
Now on his knees, the night-skinned androgynous was blotting Ali’s wound with a torn piece of fabric from his driver’s uniform.
“But more seriously, I need to go. With the bounty, you’ll be able to repair your vessel. As for the hospital fees, I will contact a good friend who will take care of you for free. She’s the ship’s chief medical officer.”
“Thank you,” I simply replied as he helped my partner get back on her feet.
“It’s the least I can do. I wasn’t interested in money. More important information is contained in this,” he said as he was picking up the floppy disk.
This golden diskette must have been worth a lot of cash for Zéphyr to play a taxicab driver to ensure coverage. I had perceived that something was fishy!
Then, halfway to his Swift-0, Zéphyr stopped. I witnessed his hesitation.
“There was nothing personal, you know. We’re all just trying to make our way. The best we can…”
And he ultimately left before adding:
“Maybe we’ll see each other again! You seem like fun.”
Before fleeing away, Zéphyr abandoned one of the boxes near the criminal’s corpse. Thus, he validated the theory of a robbery that had gone wrong. When the security arrived a few minutes later, we were the heroes of the day. And with a little bribe, nobody cared about Zéphyr’s missing ship.
This whole story surely left us a bitter taste. A feeling of defeat and humiliation that the swimming pool under the synthetic sun couldn’t make disappear even a week after.
“He undoubtedly played us as we were rookies, with his little face of a young innocent girl in distress,” I said to Ali right after the end of the daily Brett Maverick.
This old show was dispensed on a couple of giant screens suspended by drones.
Until now, Ali had remained silent on her deckchair; with a brick of sour juice stuck between her breasts and a pair of straws between her teeth. Only inaudible grunts emanated from her mouth since the departure of the sexually unclassifiable mugger.
“I wonder what information this fucking cyber-Tootsie could have been looking for in that casino,” my human mumbled as she squeaked her rainbow flip-flops.
“Admit that it’s not really that question that puts you in such a state…” I answered, now well installed on my motorized buoy that I had gotten as a gift in a diet kibbles package.
“You bet! I will have a nasty tan mark on my stomach with these bandages!” she exploded, spitting out her plastic straws with infinite curls.
My float slipped towards the ledge as a robot came to bring us our next glucose overdose.
Ali finally added:
“I swear that if we run into him again, I’ll smack his fucking angel face.”
Back to business!

Here are some excerpts from an interesting interview with magician Steve Brooks. Steve has a lot of valuable insights about magic to share, based on his own experience and involvement in this performing art. He's even in the process of writing a couple of books about magic theory, which is in itself a testimony to his ability to be a creative thinker.
When did you first get interested in magic, and what got you started?
I’ve been studying and performing magic since I was about nine years old or so. I saw a magician on television doing something and asked my mother, "How did he do that?" She said, "He’s a magician. I don’t know." That kind of piqued my interest.
When I was maybe nine or ten, my grandmother took me to see Harry Blackstone Jr., to see a show somewhere in Los Angeles. And Harry did all the stuff he was doing, like the big Buzz Saw Illusion and the Floating Light Bulb, and birds, and more. All this was more than a little nine or ten year old could take at the time, and I just had to know how this stuff works. I wasn’t content thinking, "Well, he’s a magician and it’s secret and you can’t know."
So when the show was over I broke away from my grandmother’s hand in the crowd and decided I would go back stage so I could see how this stuff worked - because if he could do it, maybe so could I. So I crawled under the curtain and got backstage and I was touching and checking out the Buzz Saw Illusion. And I hear this really deep voice, "Can I help you young man?" And I turned around, and it was Harry Blackstone Jr. - who stood like a mountain to a little boy! I was totally scared, because I knew I wasn’t supposed to be back there.
And he kind of knelt down on one knee and he pulled a little red ball (in hindsight I’m sure it was a billiard ball). He just threw it up in the air and it vanished, and he said, "When you can do that, come back and see me and I’ll show you how to do the good stuff." Then he took me by my hand and helped me find my grandmother.
How did you continue to learn magic after first meeting Harry Blackstone Jr?
After I first saw Harry Blackstone in person, a couple of years later or so, I saw a magician on television, Marshall Brodien who was selling his TV magic cards and TV miracle cards and TV mystery cards. And I saved up my pennies and I went to my local Thrifty drug store and I purchased those.
When you got those decks, inside with the instructions would be a little folded catalog, and you could buy more magic tricks by mail. Back then, I didn’t know there was such a thing as a magic shop. So I started ordering tricks, e.g. Fun Incorporated items under the Royal Magic brand. You know, classics like the Ball and Vase, Drawer Box, Crazy Cube, Pentro Penny, etc. As the years went by, I would continue to save up my money and buy even more magic tricks, books, etc.
I also had a neighbor who was in the Boy Scouts and I would borrow his Boys Life magazines and look in the back and they’d have all these ads for magic shops. So I’d send off my quarters or dimes off and get all their catalogs, and look through all the amazing things I might get. So I grew up doing magic.
Did you ever meet Harry Blackstone Jr again?
Around 40 years later, probably in the early 2000s or the late 1990s. Harry Blackstone was doing a show here in Northern California, and I saw him do his show at Chico State University. After the show he and Gay Blackstone came out, selling little magic sets for kids. I was prepared this time, because I had brought a billiard ball and I told Harry the story. I threw the ball up in the air and vanished it, and he started crying. It was a very emotional moment. He had tears coming down his eyes and he says, "I’ll be right back." And he disappears.
He comes back and he brought me a bunch of stuff, including this huge photograph which I still have. I said, "Because you were kind to a little boy who was someplace he shouldn’t have been, that turned out to be pretty much what I’ve done all my life." So it kind of came full circle, I guess.
What should be the goal of a performing magician?
What we’re really here for as magicians is to create that wonder, so that people can say: "For five minutes I can forget about my pain. Maybe I’m losing my house, or my daughter’s pregnant, or I’m going through a divorce, or my father just passed away. But for five lousy minutes, I don’t have to think about that stuff." For a short time I don’t have to think about all the drama and all the craziness. Right now with the coronavirus and everybody panicking and dying, people need laughter, entertainment, and magicians. They need something positive in their lives.
And this is why if you go back and look at the late 1920s and 30s and 40s when you had the Depression and Prohibition and a war going on, Vaudeville was so popular. This is why we needed the Marx brothers and Abbott and Costello and Laurel and Hardy, and we needed the Slapstick and we made fun of things. Back when folks understood what humor was – you know, a joke? A story with a humorous climax. Back before everyone became afraid they might offend someone.
Magicians take you away from pain and make up something wonderful. This is something that we need to keep in mind. Why are you doing magic? Are you trying to impress yourself or are you doing it for your audience? And are they just spectators or are they participants in the moment?
I remember a conversation with Eugene Burger, and I asked him, "Eugene, when you go to perform, whether it’s for one person, two people, a room full or a whole auditorium, whether it’s magicians or it’s lay people, what is your number one goal?" And he looked at me without blinking an eye and said, "To fool them." And I said, "Really?" And he looked at me and said, "Why, what is it you do?" And I said, "To entertain them." If I fool them, that’s great. That’s icing on the cake. But honestly, I’ll take a pie in the face if it makes somebody laugh, if it makes them giggle, if it makes them just have fun.
How should this impact how we approach our audience when performing magic?
I’m actually writing a couple books on magic theory. We need to look at whatever we do - and especially magic - and concentrate on making them have fun.
If your audience likes you, they’re going to stop being confrontational. Every magician I know, at some point during their career or in doing magic, has had this experience: The audience has folded arms and is rolling their eyes backward, saying, "Okay, Mr. Magic Man, fool me, do your trick." You have to turn that moment around because you can’t sit there and fight your audience. And as long as they are there to fight you and confront you, there’s a problem.
We all build this little wall around us, and we don’t allow people into our personal space. In order to connect with your audience, you can’t bust through their wall. Instead you have to let them open the door for you. And once they open the door and allow you into that personal space, now you have an opportunity. Now you can tell a stupid joke and they’re still going to laugh because they like you. And if they like you, they’re having fun and they’re enjoying the moment rather than trying to deconstruct the moment.
This is all about how we approach them. I don’t think you have to be the greatest magician in the world to have your audience walk away thinking "That person was awesome!" If they had a good time and they enjoyed themselves, they’ll remember you.
How important is sleight of hand compared with entertaining?
I know guys that are some of the best "mechanics", you might call them, with cards and such in the world. But some of those guys couldn’t entertain themselves out of a wet paper sack. They can do all these great moves, but when they get in front of an audience, they freeze, or they’re boring. You’d rather watch grass grow than to watch them perform.
For example, if you’re in front of some people and you throw a ball up in the air and it vanishes, they don’t know how you did it. And whether you did it by fantastic misdirection and sleight of hand or whether you use some gizmo is irrelevant to them because all the audience saw was the ball vanish. And that’s what’s important, that moment: the ball vanished.
You have a couple of different schools of thought on this. Some magicians say, "If it’s not done with sleight of hand, then you’re not really a magician." Others say, "If you can use a gaff card and make the trick work, that’s what I’m going to do." It’s like comparing Vernon and Larry Jennings, and how they would sit together at the Magic Castle and somebody would come up with a problem to solve. There are different ways of achieving something, and which one you choose doesn’t matter. So find the things that work for you. Not everybody has great dexterity. That’s okay.
Is it essential to be a good performer in order to be involved in magic?
Not everybody in magic needs to be a performer. There can be people that just collect props, or they collect posters, or books or whatever they collect. Or they are historians.
Just because you don’t go out and perform for audiences doesn’t mean anything. You still can be in magic. You can still hang out with your magic buddies. You can still enjoy everything that is magic. You don’t have to necessarily be a professional magician.
How important is hard work in order to be successful in magic?
There are seminars about how to get rid of a bad habit, or how to create a good habit. Let’s say I want to create a habit like getting more work done in my office. I’m going to condition myself to go to work one hour earlier every day so that I can get more work done. If you do that, after about a month or so, you’ll just keep going in an hour earlier.
Or if you want to spend time writing a book, but your life is a mess. You start off by saying, "I’m going to start at least once a week, on Tuesdays. Every Tuesday I’m going to devote two hours to writing my book." At first it will be tough. You may not even make it every Tuesday. But if you keep doing it, after a couple of months, you will do it and you might even spend more than two hours. In fact, it’ll get to the point where you don’t feel right unless you do sit down and write something on your book.
You can apply that to magic. I want to learn a new trick but it’s really hard, and it’s got a lot of difficult moves. So you start practicing and you put yourself in a habit of practicing.
What can we learn about hard work from performers who have been successful in magic?
People that make it in business, or people who make it in magic - whether it’s Penn and Teller, David Copperfield, Siegfried and Roy, David Blaine, Criss Angel, Mac King, any of them - they didn’t get there because they didn’t work at it.
Somebody could say, "Well, they got lucky." Did they now? Maybe the harder the work you do, the luckier you might get, and you place yourself into situations to have the opportunity to be lucky and meet somebody. But you don’t do it by sitting playing video games on Xbox or reading BS on Facebook You do it by actually going out, and because you give something else up.
So you say: "So I want to be the next Criss Angel." So what are you willing to give up? What does Criss give up? I’ll tell you what he gives up. For years he gave up hanging out with all his buddies. He gave up chasing girls everywhere, and going to the parties. He gave up tons of stuff. Why? Because he was too busy trying to be successful.
You need to ask yourself: "How am I going to learn this? How am I going to get into this position? How am I going to meet the right people that will open doors for me to get over here?" I’m not going to do it sitting at home. So you take chances. You invest money that you might lose. You invest time that you may not get back and you try things and you fail at them and then you say to yourself, well that was a mistake, so I’m going to do it different next time, but I’m not going to give up.
Does this change once you achieve a successful career in magic?
You can say "Somebody in Vegas that makes $20 million a year has got it made." Really? So are you willing to do what they do? That $20 million contract is also wrapped in golden chains. Because it means I can’t go anywhere. I’ve got to do two shows at night, whether I feel like it or not.
And I have got to go and hang upside down off the stage whether I feel like it or not, and get in that tank of water and do this trick again and again in front of my audience and smile and be happy whether I feel happy or not. Maybe I just got in a fight with my mom or my brother or whatever, but I still have to be there. It’s seven o’clock, and I’ve got to do my show. I’ve got all this money, but I don’t have any time to really enjoy it. Because most of my time is at my showroom or at the casino I work at.
And who are really my friends? The people that just want to hang out with me because I’m famous? Do I have real friends, somebody that I can talk to and they’ll just tell me the truth because they don’t want anything from me?
Why is magic so much harder in real life than when a famous magician does it on TV?
I’ve seen this on the Magic Café. Some person will attempt to do a trick, and say: "I saw David Blaine do this great trick, but I tried to do it, and this homeless guy threw a beer bottle at me."
When somebody like David Blaine or Criss Angel or anybody else is going to do magic on the street, they have a bunch of advantages you don’t have. They’ve got a crew of camera people and grip holders and light people and sound people with them and they walk up and they get to know the guy. They find a guy that is receptive to this. So now we’re going to run the cameras and I’m going to do four or five tricks. And finally we’ll do the trick that we want to show on TV. But by the time we edit the episodes, we don’t have time to show you us getting to know him. We just walk up, do the trick and it’s done. That’s the way it works.
In real life you can’t always do that. It’s tough. You watch videos of how to learn magic and then it looks great on a video. Someone like Michael Ammar or somebody else who knows what he’s doing, and everything just works great. But when you do it, that lady grabbed the deck out of my hand, or that kid ran off with my scotch and soda coins. Yep, that’s the real world.
How important is it to get experience when performing magic?
That’s the thing that’s missing from these videos. It’s not that the videos aren’t good. It’s not that the books are not good. They are good. But they don’t teach you the experience.
Say somebody wants to be a doctor. So they go to medical school for eight or nine or 10 years or whatever, and they come out and they know all the technical stuff. They know all about chemistry and how the body works and what these tools do. But when they start working with real people things don’t always happen the way the book says it might happen. So experience, experience.
I worked restaurants for years, and behind bars alongside bartenders. Some of the toughest magic to do is working beyond a bar because why? Because you’ve got alcohol involved. Alcohol plus humans often equals disaster. People will do things when they’re drunk that they wouldn’t do otherwise. And they’re not paying attention all the time.
So books can get into how to do the moves, and tell you how you might want to dress. But they can’t give you experience. You’re going to have to go up there and fail. You need to fail. You need to get busted a few times. And any magician who says "I’ve never been busted" I say: "bs. Yes, you have. Quit lying. Yes you have."
So learn from that and always be a step ahead of your audience. Always have an out in the back of your mind and say "What happens if this fails on me?" You must be able to adapt. Or do you just say "Oh sorry, it didn’t work." That’s really not a good out. You need to be able to take a bad situation and make it into a good situation.
What has experience taught you about dealing with hecklers?
It teaches you how to deal with a rowdy spectator. For many years it was said that there’s no bad audiences, only bad magicians. I call bs on that. There could absolutely be a bad audience. You could like do a show thousands of times and it’s awesome. But then get an audience and it’s just a train wreck. You can have unruly spectators and people who basically aren’t there to have a good time.
You’ve got to understand another thing about magic: some people don’t like it. It’s a psychological thing. If they’re sitting in a seat watching a magic show, somewhere in the back of their mind, they feel that if they get amazed and fooled by this, they must be an idiot, and everyone’s going to laugh at them. It’s almost as if they think the rest of the theater is too smart for this and they would be the only ones getting fooled by it. So they have to be the heckler, the rowdy guy, or the person who knows everything.
When I was younger and did kids’ shows, I learned a couple of little tricks for dealing with kids. Kids can really be a problem. I would set up all my stuff and stand by the doorway and watch the kids for the first two or three rows. Sure enough, there’d always be some kid who is slugging other kids in the arm and pulling people’s hair. That kid’s going to be my problem, so I’m going to deal with that right now.
So you walk up and say: "What’s your name? Come here." And you take him out in the hall and say "Listen, I’m going to be doing this show and I got a couple of tricks which I’m going to need your help. Can you keep a secret?" And you get the kid involved somehow. You make him feel special. You make him feel wanted because a bully at school is a bully at school because he’s being bullied at home where he feels like he has no power. So give him some power in your show and guess what? He’s not slugging kids in the arm, shouting things at the magician, or grabbing things, because he’s part of the show now. So it’s a pre-emptive strike.
What insights about magic have you gained from your passion for science fiction?
I like things like Star Trek and Star Wars and BattleStar Galactica, Stargate SG-1. You could make a movie and put billions of dollars into it and have the greatest special effects. But if it doesn’t have good characters that you care about, it’s not a good story. A series like the Lord of the Rings by Tolkien is good because it has good characters. Similarly Star Trek has always been good - not because of the cool space ships or the battles – but because of the relationship of the characters, and their ethics and ideas of morality. That’s what creates good stories.
That also applies to magic. Magic is more than just making something appear or disappear and standing up there saying, "See how wonderful I am. Aren’t you impressed?" Good magic is about how you can touch your audience on an emotional level.
That’s why I love close-up magic. Most people have never experienced magic in person. They see it on television and they might be impressed with it, but they’re thinking in the back of their heads, "Those people were in on it", or "It was a camera trick." But when you borrow somebody’s finger ring that their mother gave them as a gift and you do something wonderful with it, there’s this emotional connection because, "Hey, that’s my ring," or "That ring belonged to my grandmother. That’s not a camera trick, that was real. I saw it."
Conclusion
I hope you enjoyed hearing from Steve Brooks and reading his insights and observations as much as I did. He certainly has some real wisdom to share. There's a wealth of knowledge we can gain from interacting with fellow hobbyists, whether they be playing card collectors or magicians. So thank you Steve for doing this interview and for sharing your perspectives on magic!
Author's note: I first published this article at PlayingCardDecks here.

With 42 crisp hundreds lining my pocket and child-like wonder pulsating, Vegas was summoning me from the bowels of hell. But first, I had to take a little detour by Morongo Casino for no particular reason other than recently reading up about Jackson's Seminole Wars and Cherokee policy; felt like the right thing to do.
I smoke a few bowls from my apple piece and do some Tai Chi in the parking structure to immerse into the zone. Within the zone, I am as objective as a poker player as I can comprehend; once the zone crumbles to ego, I am a PLO donk from the pit of eternal suffering and going all in on long shot stock options. It's a perplexing duality to rationalize and live with, though I wouldn't have it any other way. I lost a wee bit under 10k two weeks before with said degeneracy; regardless, there I was harnessing my Chi in the parking structure to redeem myself - maybe I should have been volunteering at a soup kitchen or raising malnourished kittens instead of this self centered quest, but the journey had already commenced..
The only game with an open seat is a 5/10 and I sit down with $666 for my own amusement. The villain of this hand had accidentally revealed his cards to my peaking eyes a few hands before where he floated 2x and bombed a paired board with nothing against a nit. Having known this, I flatted his 3b to 105 with my QQ's because his range is too wide to rip it and checked to him when the board came T95 rainbow, surprisingly he checks back. Turn is a 4 (bringing in clubs) and I lead for 60 to hopefully induce - he flats. River is an offsuit Ace and I check it, he insta rips all in for 550 effective. I ruminate on quantum theory and my mother's abuse, then make the crying call only due to the fact that I saw his donkalicous play before. Sure enough, he flops over 57h and the trip is off to a BANG. After playing tight for another hour and as the table slowly began to break, I walk out with nearly a grand more to my name.
I sat in my Volvo wagon with an American spirit fading to my finger tips and Bach's E Major Partita emitting from mere mm's of my phone's speakers, I realized I had completed the most objective objective of this trip.. The only reason I set off was because my cello "broke" the day before and the degen tingles were too convincing without a bow in hand, now I had more than enough in profit to get my baby tuned up. But who the fuck has the time to act upon their conscience, I'm tryin to GAMBOL! "Vegas, here I come darlin."
I stopped in Barstow to force myself to vomit and then gently placed a tab of LSD under my tongue in ode to Dr. Gonzo. I tried deciphering some meaning in the vast array of stars as I wandered the barren Mojave and after coming up short, I was back to flooring it on the 15. My optics were melting a tad and the road did permeate with my breath, but not an ounce of fear radiated within. I sang my favorite songs from "O Brother Where Art Thou" and didn't think about my ex at all with "You Are My Sunshine," baby steps. With the dusk hue fading as rays of light mustered over the horizon, our beloved capitalist wasteland was within eye shot. Before I could render the inclination of a responsible thought, I was in the Bellagio parking lot smoking weed with some drunk broad beggin for a few bucks to throw on slots - "Ganja is the only charity I provide hon."
After a few orbits at 5/10 with a far too many regs that I recognized and getting a walk with Aces, I stand up right there n then and get the hell out of that nit fest. My soul was aching for 4 cards and there's no forsaking such a ravenous urge, Aria was my destiny.
Due to the fact that live 1/2/5 PLO is actually abbreviated for BINGO, most of my play was incredibly standard and not worth typing out. There was only one hand for which wasn't a cognitive snap decision against a 10/20 pro for whom I had top set and let 3 potential straight combos get there from foolish slow play; after a minute of deciphering the hand and his perception of my image, I called his $400 river bet and got the good news. Aside from that single hand, any domesticated chimp could have been in my seat and it wouldn't have made a difference; the hands played themselves out. After 72 hours of continuous grinding and gettin lucky at 5/5/10, I reached the sacred $4,200 in profit and doubled my trip's first stop loss amount (which I had no intention of adhering to).
With 84 mildly crumpled hundreds in my pocket and that same child-like wonder pulsating; here I am wandering the strip looking for the stories in all these confused faces. But conceptualizing the seemingly infinite dimensionality within even the simplest of folk is futile when I am just as confused; I hope the find what they are looking for or find that the looking is the fun part, who the fuck knows. I appears as though the next leg of my journey is to visit my childhood home in southern Utah and commit Felony arson in spite of my mother - or I might just keep degening away. Only time will tell.
​
Safe travels comrades.

I am a kid -
walking along the side of a strip mall,
by myself, in the early 1970s
in the middle of summer -
I can feel the rays of sun hitting me
and my sweat glistens in the light from that shining star;
My clothes are too big for me
and they flap around my body - as I walk -
I look at the ads in the windows as I bounce by
they are giant things
huge impressive massive mindblowing superloud things
with images of all skin-colors beautiful women with child-birthing hips and enormous tits who
wear lacey underwear that you can just almost see through next to a
cheap picture of a grinning yellow cartoon duck with money falling down around it who
tells me to COME TO THE LUCKY DUCK CASINO! EVERYBODY’S A WINNER! next to
an ad stating IT CAN HAPPEN HERE with dark shadows on the text and a woman who was posed
as if she was crying and a drawing of something that was supposed to represent heroin next to
a poster with those red colors and with those golden arches and with those y’know next to
a Subway
I take my hands out of my pockets (they
had been there the whole time)
to open the door to the drug store, and
I go to the fridge,
and I grab a Coke,
and I go to the counter,
and I buy the Coke,
and the cashier gives me the change
and hands me the Coke
and I put the coins in my pocket,
and I start walking home, drinking
the Coke.
Meanwhile:
my dad sits in his brown recliner with the broken handle and the fuzz coming out of the side
a can in his hand
mouth agape --
my parents, knowing I wasn’t home,
took this opportunity to spend some alone time together and yell at each other(cue music:
“Surrender” by Cheap Trick sourced from a dirty vinyl record)
When I do get there my Coke is empty and my dad is
asleep on the recliner and my mom is in the bedroom
with the door shut. All is calm.
I go upstairs and shut my door too.
​
Now, I’m a cockroach -
underneath a countertop in the corner of a hair salon, Sitting idly,
between a bottle of L’Oreal Sulfate Free Scalp Care and Detox Shampoo
and a can of Gillette Foamy Men's Sensitive Shave Foam 11oz
People walk around me,
unawares as to my existence -
cut hair of all colors (like brown and blonde and blue and byzantine and burgundy)
falls near me,
loose change and scissors too (they go tinkshh when they hit the tile
which scares me so I flutter my wings but I stay in Place for the most part)
Eventually,
being curious of the world at large,
I decide to venture out,
to leave my corner
and walk about:
I am stepped on
immediately,
accidentally,
killed
instantly -
my corpse remained there for three hours
sitting still
before being noticed by a customer - a middle aged woman with a pixie cut -
who called the health department - an investigation
coincidentally lead to an exposing
of a money laundering scheme
by the salons owner
who was put into jail.
his wife left him and took their two kids
and now the empty hair salon has sat
empty, untouched
in the strip mall for three decades, save
for the occasional illegal entrance
of some teenagers looking for a hangout spot
(who leave when they see the cockroaches)
​
Now I’m a streetlamp -
my yellow light shines in a circle
below, on a heterosexual couple kissing
outside of a beauty parlor(they are beautiful too,yes)
I am grey and my sides are rusting,
stickers of local bands and political happenings
run up and down my sides creating a display
of colors and torn papers.
The square windows around my bulb are dirty.
Her hands are on his hips, he is bending down
to reach her mouth. He runs his hand through
her hair feeling and inspecting every strand
with his nerve endings as they make Contact-
Their shadows are thin and long, the sun had just set
and the sky is more blue than black
the stars are white twinkle dots
(I wonder what it’s like to have arms?)
Later that night they drive home,
and fall asleep soundly while holding each other
in a bed that has red sheets and a big blanket
with gold trimming around the bed frame
and the ceiling fan with pretty designs in the wood was on.
Nine years three days one month and six hours later
she is giving birth to their first child
in the middle of the night;
at the same time -
I am struck by a car
being driven by a drunk driver
who wasn’t killed, or badly injured
but his black car with
red and orange flames
was totalled, he had his license taken away
while I remained
laying on the ground -
nobody came
to pick me up.
​
Now I’m a T-Rex!
RAWR, I like to stomp around and use my big scary sharp shiny teeth to eat other dinosaurs like edmontosauruses and anatosauruses and triceratopses and I’ve been told it’s even possible that I could eat smaller dinosaurs in a single bite!
I like the way they feel when they crunch in my mouth and how the blood runs out through my teeth and drips down my chin and the way they feel when they slide down my throat all chewed up into my belly and the way they feel when they start being digested.
My scales are scaly
and rough colorful things
I look up to the sky
and see friends fly with wings
Don’t you wish you were a dinosaur, too?
I have a lot of fun here, but After many years
of being an apex predator
I lay down
and die of natural causes
my body is scavenged by scavengers
before sinking into the ground -
millions of years later
my remains are removed as oil
by Americans in the Middle East
I am treated and refined
put into barrels
shipped across the Atlantic
(whatever that is) and placed
into the tanks of a Circle K gas station
Soon I am funneled into a minivan
for $1.19 a gallon
by a soccer mom taking her kids
to their Church’s vacation bible school
her daughter bought a Hershey’s bar there,
her son bought a Coke
and as she eats her snack and he drinks his drink
the mom drives - and I am used
combusted fantastically
in the Engine
I change forms yet again
into car energy, into carbon dioxide [CO2]
and I rise up, into the atmosphere
breaking it apart,
slowly, over time,
as an unintentional but consequential revenge
for the unpermissed use of my body.
​
Now, I am some object
that exists in the future -
whose purpose
could not
be understood
by someone
from our current time,
for the things
it is used for
in the situations
it is used in
have no relevance
or relation
to the things
we Experience
in our lives
now-
and, therefore,
could not
be
described…
​
Now,
I am me,
I am Eric Watts.
I sit - in my little room -
playing - my little games -
with - my little self -
with ! my stuffed animal friends - all around me ---
the sun shines through the window,
and gives the room a nice...warm…...feeling……...
and Every day I get up -
and I yell. and I beat; at the door,,,
begging!!to be let out.

I held up my boarding pass and walked through the gate. My wife, Harper, was right ahead of me, and we both were so loaded with bags and suitcases that we could barely fit between the doorways. Our 10th anniversary was in a couple of days. We both had come into agreement that there was no better way to celebrate than to go on an all-expense-paid cruise to Hawaii.
As we made it up to the deck, we marveled at all the entertainment. There was a band playing to greet us. Pools, water slides, mini-golf, a drive-in sized screen that was displaying boarding information, bars, and restaurants, and that was just what we could see while walking in! This was definitely the right choice for our anniversary vacation. I couldn’t wait to get these bags unloaded and start to enjoy ourselves.
We went into the doors that led to the cabins. There was another beautiful bar down below us. There was a sports bar to the left showing the games on different screens and a small library to our right. Before we made it to the cabins, there was a coffee bar that served specialty coffees and desserts. If religion has it right, I hope that heaven is something like this. You couldn’t walk through a door anywhere without finding something exciting.
Once we made it to our cabin, we dropped all our bags and looked at each other with stars in our eyes. I pulled my wife close for a kiss and then kept my arms around her. I asked eagerly about how we should begin.
“Well, what should we do first? The casino? The arcade?”
She smirked before replying.
“Such a man, don’t forget about the fine dining at 6, followed by the show at the Theatre.”
I drew back and acted faux offended.
“Are you insinuating that I have no culture? I made our reservations before we even boarded, don’t worry. Dinner isn’t for a long time though, how about we go get some of those tacos and a coffee to get ourselves going.”
“Now you’re speaking my language.” She replied with a grin.
“Let’s unpack later. I am starving, and I think that coffee bar right there makes caramel macchiatos.”
Her eyes lit up yet again as I grabbed her hand, and we rushed towards the door. The coffee bar did have macchiatos, which I got with an extra shot of espresso. She ordered a frozen drink that was more sweetness than coffee, and we made our way back onto the deck where the tacos awaited.
The weather was beautiful. It was Fall time, and the sun was just warm enough to be inviting, accompanied by the blissful breeze that blew along the top of the deck. As we drew near to Tito’s Taco Shop, we heard the captain coming through the loudspeakers announcing takeoff. He reminded us about the mandatory safety meeting in a couple of hours and then wished us to have a great time aboard the ship.
It was still strange to be in large groups of people without wearing a mask. The pandemic was finally eradicated once the vaccines were distributed. The cruise and tourism industries were hit hard, as were many others. It seemed that people were at last willing to come back out again, and there was no shortage of cruise-goers ready for a trip to the islands.
I had my phone out and was looking up things to do in Honolulu for the days that we were in port. Scuba diving was a must. I had heard that sometimes you could see sharks or even hold an octopus on your hand if you got lucky enough. I wanted to do some hiking near the volcanoes if we had time. All the spam was going to be strange, but as much as they cook with it, I bet they were able to make it taste like a delicacy.
They were in the process of building a new aquarium. It looked like it was going to be a huge one. Sadly, it did not look like it would be done in time for us to check it out. The black sands beach looked incredible, though. Instead of sand, it said that the whole beach was covered in smooth black lava rocks. We would definitely have to make a stop there.
“Ethan! Do you want salsa on your tacos? Chicken or steak?”
I put my phone away and looked at the meats before responding and did so to the guy who was making them as he finished up my wife’s two glorious looking tacos.
“I’ll take one of both with some of that green salsa. Thank you!”
All the free tacos that you could eat, why couldn’t life always be like that?
“Let’s sit over there by the side, so we can watch the takeoff,” Harper said, before taking a big sip of her frozen coffee.
We took a seat and took in the last sight of land that we would see for about 4 days. Once we arrived, we would tour the different islands, stopping at each port and having a day to explore. There were some people on land waving towards the ship. We joined many others who were near the side waving back. I couldn’t help but feel bad for all of those poor people stuck on the land.
“Bon Voyage to us, I guess.”
I held up my coffee for a cheers, and Harper returned the gesture. Her face was glowing. I couldn’t remember seeing her so happy since the day of our wedding.
“This is really going to be a nice break from reality.” She said as she picked up her taco to take her first bite.
“Yeah, it will. Nothing like this in the world.”
We took our time, enjoying each bite as our view of the coastline became a thing of the past. When we were finished, we looked into each other’s eyes. I reached across the table to hold her hand. She sounded a bit anxious as she spoke.
“It is a lot to take in, isn’t it? There is so much to do that I’m afraid of missing out on something. Where should we go first?”
I squeezed her hand and spoke in a reassuring tone.
“We have plenty of time to take it all in. Let’s just make sure to relax and do whatever makes us happy. It will all work itself out.”
Once we had our fill of gazing into the ocean, we decided that we would head back to the room and get unpacked, while we waited for the safety orientation. The time flew by, and before we knew it, they were calling our section over the loudspeaker.
We arrived with all the other passengers and waited for a moment until the crew member made it so we could begin. They gave us the spiel about the life jackets. They explained how the evacuation process works in case of a problem and let us hear a sample of the siren that would be played if there was an emergency.
I was zoning out and staring out of the window. We were near the bottom of the ship, and you could see the water moving beside us. It put me in a bit of a trance, and I kind of lost myself in it for a moment. I was snapped out of it when I saw something I couldn’t quite comprehend.
It happened pretty fast, and most of the people were looking at the crew member as he spoke. I could have been mistaking, but It looked like a giant tentacle had moved by the window and curled out of sight.
I looked around to see if anyone else had seen what I thought I just saw. There was a teenaged boy who looked excited and shocked. He was tugging at his father’s sleeve and explaining something to him. He seemed to brush him off and looked frustrated at the interruption. Everyone else was paying attention to the speech and had apparently not seen a thing.
Harper noticed how shaken I was and asked me quietly if everything was alright. I shook it off and said I would tell her about it later. We sat through the rest of the orientation. Nothing else went by the window, other than the waves being made by the ship.
As we arrived back on the deck, we were grabbing a drink from the tiki-themed bar. Harper chose one of those blue drinks with the little umbrella on top. After what I had seen, I opted for a straight glass of their best scotch. I had explained my story to her, and she was busy trying to figure out what it could have been that I saw.
“So, you’re sure it was all the way up by the window? Even at that lower level, that must be pretty high up from the water. Maybe it was something that crawled up the side, and it just seemed like it was larger because of forced-perspective?”
I took a big sip of my scotch and shook my head in confusion.
“Yeah, I mean, maybe. I really don’t know.”
She looked as if a light bulb went off in her head, and she shot back a smart remark.
“You’ve been reading a bunch of that H. P. Lovecraft stuff again, haven’t you? I’m sure it wasn’t Cthulhu if that’s what you are thinking.”
I laughed and felt my tension release.
“No, it’s not that. I just thought it was weird, that’s all. Enough about that, let’s figure out what we’re going to do until the formal dinner and play tonight.”
She responded with a grin.
“I seem to remember someone mentioning the arcade and the casino.”
I must have looked like a kid on Christmas morning because she burst out laughing. We finished our drinks and made our way past the large screen that was now cycling through reminders of all the different events that you could attend. Night club, comedy club, it seemed like there was no end to the number of things you could do on this ship.
We walked through the casino that was already bustling with cruise-goers. It looked like a good time. They even had versions of those toy cranes that were set up to pick up huge wads of cash. That might be the next stop, but I had my eyes set on the zombie shooter game with two green guns. The arcade was right past the casino and was full of all kinds of games to keep us entertained.
Not as many people were eager to jump straight for the arcade apparently. Harper and I had the whole place to ourselves. I went to the coin machine to get out some tokens. There was a door that read “Staff Only” right by the machine. I heard a loud slamming noise that caught my attention, even over the music that was playing in the arcade. I leaned in a little and heard a heated conversation on the other side.
“This is so fucked up. I can’t believe that they got loose. They need to tell all of the people!”
“Can you imagine the chaos that would cause? I get where you are coming from, trust me. It’s better this way, though.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right… People would be going crazy.”
The door opened, and I jumped as I was still leaning in to eavesdrop. This must have been apparent to the two kids who walked out because they looked a bit frightened and then hurried right past me. I grabbed the tokens out of the machine and walked over to the machine where my wife was waiting.
“You look like you just saw a ghost or something. Don’t tell me some fish people are walking around on board now.”
I couldn’t even fake a laugh or smile. I explained what I had just heard as I put the coins into the machine and started up the game. She did not seem concerned about the new development.
“They could have been talking about a mechanical issue or something. Try not to worry too much. We deserve to have the time of our lives on this trip. I don’t want you to start to obsess on this and lose sight of why we are here.”
I shrugged at this and answered in a resigned tone.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Worrying isn’t going to fix anything anyway. Could you please start taking out some of these zombies, though? I’m carrying the whole game over here. You have a power-up to use, hit the red button.”
She smacked me with the gun for talking trash, but the mood felt much lighter after that. Before long, we grew tired of the arcade and decided to play a few games at the casino. I have never been the best card player, and she was no better than me. This being the case, we opted for the giant money claw machine.
I swear that both of us grabbed a stack a handful of times each. The claw would never hold its grip, though. Feeling more than a little bit scammed, we decided to blow a bit of time at the slots until we had to go get ready for dinner. As soon as we sat down, the person who went on the money claw right behind us exclaimed loudly as the machine lit up and started to make a loud ringing noise. I looked over to Harper and gestured towards him.
“That seems about right, huh? We pump fifty dollars into that thing, and he walks away with a jackpot after one.”
“Such is life.” She responded as she pumped some tokens into the slot machine.
I couldn’t help but hear two guys on some machines behind us, as they were beginning to get a bit rowdy with each other.
“You tryin’ to say I don’t know what I saw man?”
His friend responded quickly.
“No, no, no, man. I’m not trying to say you’re seeing things or whatever else. I’m just saying that it’s crazy. There is no way it can be right!”
After this, the first man shot up out of his seat, knocking over his stool as he did. This caused quite the scene, and many people were starting to gaze in the direction now.
“Yeah, that’s alright. You think whatever the hell you want. I’m gonna go find someone to talk to about it right now!”
He stormed off, leaving his friend looking a bit shell-shocked and embarrassed. Harper looked toward me, and as if reading her mind, I pushed my seat back away from the machine.
“Yeah, let’s get out of here. We need to get ready for dinner.”
She raised her eyebrows in surprise at what we had just witnessed and responded.
“Sounds good to me. I haven’t won anything anyway. Let’s go.”
I looked back towards the guy’s friend, who he left standing there. After considering it for a moment, I leaned in towards my wife.
“You go ahead, I’ll catch up with you in just a second.”
She looked a bit frustrated but did not fight it.
“Hurry up, I want to make sure we get a good seat. It’s going to take us a while to get ready.”
She kissed me on the cheek and took off towards the deck, which led over towards the cabins. I walked up towards the man who was about to walk off before I caught his attention.
“Excuse me, sir? I overheard you and your friend. What was it that he thinks he saw?”
He looked at me warily. It was clear that he really didn’t want to discuss the matter.
“Look, he’s usually not like that, you know? I don’t know what’s gotten into him, honestly.”
I shook my head. He obviously didn’t understand why I was asking.
“No, I saw something strange as well. I’m not trying to say your friend is going crazy at all. I was just wondering what it is that he was saying he saw.”
This seemed to unnerve him more than help calm his nerves. He looked around to make sure nobody was listening in.
“Man, he was saying that he saw a giant fucking octopus, bro. Like, 30 feet long or so is how he was describing it. It’s ridiculous, there is no way they would allow something like that on one of these ships.”
My heart dropped all the way to my feet. I covered my mouth, and I think he could tell by my reaction that what he said had rocked me to the core. I stammered and managed a weak reply as horror rushed through my body.
“I..I… On the boat??”
He nodded and looked at me with the same type of concern he had been showing to his friend. My face must have been as white as a sheet at this point.
“Thanks.”
I took off out of the door, in a huge rush to catch up with Harper. I was looking around in a panic, my heart racing and ready to beat right out of my chest. I was about to just take off to the room when I heard Harper’s voice.
“Ethan! Over here, I grabbed some hot tea.”
I saw her over by the edge of the deck, waving me over. I ran up to her and could hardly focus.
“I thought you needed something to help you relax, and it looks like I was right. What are you freaking out about right now?”
I tried to collect my thoughts and was going to respond when she pointed behind me and cut me off.
“Hey, isn’t that the guy that was just going nuts in the casino?”
I turned around, and the man was being dragged towards a door that was marked “Employees Only”. Two larger deckhands were pulling him that way, each with a tight grip on one of his arms. He was fighting hard to try and break their hold and calling out for help. As they made it through the door with the man, I grabbed Harper by the shoulders and looked into her eyes.
“We have to go. Let’s get to the room, I don’t want to explain out here.”
She nodded, and we made our way towards the cabins. Once we were in our own cabin, she put down the hot teas on our dresser and walked right up to me with an exasperated look on her face.
“Babe, what in the heck is going on right now? This isn’t about the freaking tentacle that you saw out the window, is it?”
I looked shiftily around the room and towards our view of the ocean.
“Yes… I mean, no… Well, not really, anyway.”
“You have got to calm down. Just take a deep breath and explain.”
I did as she suggested and took a long deep breath to collect my thoughts. I told her about what the guy’s friend had said back at the casino. She made the connection between this and the man being dragged off the deck against his will. I also explained what I heard from the crew members when we were at the arcade. I could tell she was beginning to take what I was saying seriously.
I looked off into a corner as I made a connection. It seemed like a bit of a stretch to me, but it was the only thing I could think of. I know that she wouldn’t judge me at this point if it sounded a bit outlandish. After thinking it over for a moment, I decided to tell her what I was thinking.
“When I was looking for things to do in Honolulu earlier, there was an advertisement for a new aquarium that was coming soon. One of the main attractions was that they were going to have a bunch of Giant Pacific Octopi.
I didn’t think about it until now, but what if that is what is on this ship? Let me google it really quick, I had never heard of that type of octopus, so I didn’t think much of it.”
I got the search pulled up and nodded in a cold understanding before continuing.
“This is exactly what that guy was describing. I don’t know why they would use a cruise ship to deliver something like that. It’s the only thing that makes any sense right now, though.”
Harper was looking at the google search thoughtfully and responded.
“I mean, I guess that these were two of the hardest-hit economies during the pandemic, tourism, and cruise ships. It makes some kind of twisted sense that they would come together to try and help each other out. Octopi are known to be very mischievous, even when they aren’t the size of a freaking semi-trailer.”
She made a good point. Nothing had really made sense for a few years now with how crazy the world had been. This made as much sense as anything else when it was put into perspective. I just shook my head in amazement and looked towards her.
“Well, what do we do from here?”
“I know this is crazy, but I’m sure they will have a handle on those things. They would not have arranged to have them on board and not prepared for the possibility that they could escape.
I say we get ready and go to dinner as we had planned. We don’t want to spend our whole 10th-anniversary cruise holed-up in the cabin. Even if all this crazy guesswork is correct, and that is what the guy from the casino saw, I’m sure that they have everything under control.”
I pressed my fingers against my eyes and tried to wrap my mind around everything. I may have been scared out of my mind, but she was right. Our best bet was to hope that it was all under control and at least try to enjoy our time on the ship. This was not going to happen again anytime soon, if ever.
“Yeah. Let’s do that, I agree. Let’s just get dressed and try to have a good time. I’m sure if it was too bad, everyone would be on lockdown or something.”
She brightened up a bit with my saying this. We both went into our luggage and began to start the process of getting changed into our formal dining attire. Before long, I was tying the knot in my tie, and she was putting the final touches on her hair. I walked up behind her in the mirror and held her by the shoulders.
“You look incredible. Let’s go and have the time of our lives.”
She gave me a big smile, and I pulled her in for a kiss. I backed up and held out my arm towards her. As she grabbed onto it, we made our way for the door.
The formal dining room was the most luxurious area on the ship by far. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling. There were large wine racks along many of the walls, and the entire dining room was walled in by the most beautiful windows that I had ever seen. There was an ornate window on the ceiling as well. It was just beginning to get dark, and I was sure that soon we would be able to see the stars all across the sky.
The waiter walked up and asked what we would like to drink. He was dressed in a black vest with a bow tie and a white shirt. I told him that we would take a bottle of wine that he recommended. I also asked him to give me a recommendation for my meal. Once Harper heard his suggestion of parmesan encrusted lamb with asparagus, she decided that she would follow suit.
He brought out some bread with olive oil as a complimentary appetizer to go with our wine. As he poured our first glasses and set the bottle down, I grabbed my glass of wine and held it up toward my beautiful wife. She looked every bit as lovely as the day of our wedding, and I was flooded with a flurry of emotions as I said my toast.
“Here is to 10 amazing years. Every one of them has been an adventure, and I look forward to every year that I’ll be lucky enough to spend with you as we continue that adventure.”
She smiled and blushed ever so slightly as she reached her glass to clink off of mine. We both took a sip, and she responded in a relieved manner.
“That’s the spirit, it is starting to actually feel like a relaxing vacation.”
“Hey, that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? It’s so nice to have a break from work, housework, and all the monotony of the day-to-day. We make a pretty good team through all of that drudgery, though. Don’t you think?”
Suddenly, I saw the smile get wiped from her face. The look that crept onto her face was one of sheer terror. Her glass of wine had been in her hand. When her face went from delight to horror, she tossed it on the ground with a crash. A scream came from deep within her, which was blood-curdling and intimated that absolute ruin was imminent.
I turned toward the spot that she was staring at. I understood all at once the doom that awaited all of us in the dining room. A giant octopus came crashing through the windows near the entrance where we all had arrived, knocking over the many racks of wine as it came and turning the floor as red as blood. Seemingly at the same time, another came from the side closest to the ocean and blocked the only other way out of the dining room into the kitchen.
I grabbed Harper’s arm, and we ran toward the corner as far from the beasts as we could manage. It was pandemonium as the whole dining room erupted into turmoil. I flipped a circle table up against the corner so that Harper and I could try to hide behind it for protection.
I saw one man who ran as fast as he could towards a small opening next to the octopus, who was blocking the main entrance. The creature reached a giant tentacle out for him and pulled him into his beak. There were shrieking howls of pain, unlike anything I have ever heard as blood sprayed out from underneath.
A couple of people were able to dart around as the octopus was distracted. Another unfortunate lady was grabbed by one of the spare tentacles, though. He squeezed her around the throat, and we had to watch as her face turned purple. Eventually, the life was squeezed right from her body.
I held Harper tight as she was sobbing like mad and unable to stop her body from shaking. We saw an opening. The one by the front entrance went toward a group of people on the opposite side of the room. As soon as it did, we bolted for the door. As we drew near, another octopus came crashing through the window on the ceiling, crushing a few unfortunate souls as it joined in the massacre. We kept running until we were well onto the deck.
The chaos did not stop in the dining room. People were running like mad all over the deck. I didn’t know where we would be safe, but I thought that maybe we could lock ourselves in our cabin until we could be rescued from this madness. It was a nice thought, but as we went for the doors, another one of those damn things came down to block our way.
We ran for the area in front of the drive-in style screen where Re-Animator was playing. A man was gibbering to himself in a wild manner and hiding behind a chair. As we drew near, I noticed a tear in the screen as another one came through and snatched the man up as he yelled out for help.
Our options for safety were becoming extremely limited. We ran for the bar where we jumped over the top and hid with a large group of people, peaking over to watch it all unfold. That was when we saw what I knew would be the end of us all. There was an army of them descending upon us. I held Harper tight as we waited on the inevitable.
I watched as a family of three were huddling together in the middle of the deck. They were almost surrounded, but the father pushed the mother and child toward an opening so that they could make it to safety with the rest of us. He let out a guttural cry as they ripped him to shreds. His little girl cried in a high-pitched squeal reaching for him until the mother grabbed her and ran towards us.
The mother was getting close when one of the monstrous creatures came hurtling behind her. As she noticed, she reached out with her daughter. I leaned out over the bar and grabbed onto her as the octopus reached the mother and held her tightly. I was pulling my hardest as the mother was holding on tight, and I hoped that they both might be saved.
I was punching and pulling at the tentacles and doing my best to cause him to let the mother go. She released her daughter, and the others brought her down behind the bar. I wouldn’t let go of her mother’s arms as she cried out in distress.
That was when I heard it. It was the deepest and most powerful sound that I have ever heard. It shook the ship violently. The bottles of liquor and glasses were falling all around us. It was hard to describe the immense strength and power that the sound exhibited all around us. When the sound came, though, something strange began to happen.
The octopus that held the child’s mother released her, and we pulled her behind the bar with us quickly. She fell to her daughter and clutched her tightly as they wept in each other’s arms. All of the creatures began to release the people that they were attacking. They were moving in unison towards the edges of the ship. They crawled over the side, and one by one, they made their way into the ocean.
Once all the monsters had left the ship, the people made their way slowly to the side to see what was happening. For some reason, they were all leaving. As quickly as they had descended upon us, they left us. It appeared to be almost in a synchronized manner. They all were swimming in the same direction, and we watched in disbelief. Nobody aboard this ship would ever be the same if they made it out alive, but many of us were saved by what could only be described as a call. A call that came from something massive, much larger than the creatures that had plagued us. It was a call that came from deep within the ocean and was more monstrous than anything that we could have ever imagined.

Rachel Schneider
ENG 477
Date 1/11/2021
Marsha Blackburn
A Writing Portfolio
I want to write my own fiction stories one day; I have had a book or two swimming around in my head so I will put the computer to good use and get that typed out one of these days. In this instance I chose my 5 stories and even though one is a marketing inquiry I had fun writing it, so here are my things and some background some of them.
Resume: It is a basic one because my photo ones were not particularly good, and this is an honest resume besides the ones I made for class and I did fudge on those.
Cover letter: I made up the cover letter though there is a penguin Books but it is always fun to use your imagination!
Hike with Drew: I got the concept from a Writer’s Digest and entered it into a contes I never got a response but good practice.
Short Story Vegas: Was one I did for another class but in here I changed it and the story was much better the second time.
Marketing Flyer: This was fun to do those are stock photos of the dogs and squeaky toys, but I like Pit Bulls and dog toys are fun as well.
Scott part 1-This is a story I am working on with another writer, warning its very sexy and some naughty words are in there as well.
Writing Samples: I made these three samples up one day because as I have looked for writing work, I have seen people want a sample of your work, so I came up with these.
Rachel
Schneider
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3867 Houghton Ave Riverside CA 92501 📷
951-743-8911 📷
[email protected] 📷
Rachel Schneider 📷
Rachel7Tori-Twitter 📷
📷
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Objective
To get a career going in the fiction/short story writing industry my imagination can run with any scenario and to write is to live.
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Education
Bachelor of Arts in English | Grand Canyon University
2017 – 2021
Took 15 different writing courses, creative writing and even two fun marketing classes all to polish up my craft. Carried a 3.0 GPA and did the courses all online as well.
No Degree Obtained | Riverside Community College
June 1994 – December 1996
Took these college courses but did not finish got 32 Units of Child Development Courses though which is what I was going for
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Experience
Cafeteria Worker 1
2008 Currently Employed.
Cook, Prep, serve food in a middle school setting, also clean, count inventory and do next day prep, cash handling and POS register experience.
Bell Ringer | Salvation Army
November 2007 – December 2007
Rang bell and collected donations for the salvation Army in front of various stores during the holiday season.
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Skills
Food handlers Card
CPR First Aid certified
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Grammar Proficiency
Spelling Proficiency
Can work from home
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Activities
Have good use of social media and can help update or bring in new followers with my creative writing side. Have a Reddit account as well with 30 stories up on that site. Can speak a little Spanish and Hebrew as well.
951-743-8911
[email protected]
3867 Houghton Ave Riverside CA 92501
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Rachel Schneider

Writer

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Penguin Books

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Dear JENNIFER MCGREGOR,

1/21/2021
Jennifer McGregor
Fiction Publisher
4587 Tropicana Rd.
Las Vegas NV 89102
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I have included my resume for the short story writer for young adult novels. It has been a few years, but I currently work in a middle school, so I do see all the angst and sass that goes with being a young teen. I do hope my writing samples can help me move to the top of the list. I look forward to working with Penguin Books and letting kids know being a teen is hard at first, but it does not last forever.
Sincerely,
Rachel Schneider
Rachel Schneider
3867 Houghton Ave
Riverside CA 92501
It had been a long cold winter Drew and I could not get out for a morning hike till today. Being 75 degrees, we did not have to wear many layers. He is an extremely sweet inquisitive boy who always asks a lot of questions. Why does moss grow on the north side of trees” he asks? Its times like this when it would be nice to have my husband here, but he is overseas where the work is. “well, it’s not just the north side it’s on the shadier side because that is where the moisture is.”
On we went looking at snails on the ground watching the deer pass by along a ridge. Being quiet as to not startle them. “Mom he whispered it’s a bunny den they are coming out for food, he leaves a few carrot and lettuce scraps from last night’s dinner. I walked down the path and spotted some glorious Blue Jays and a Downey Woodpecker. “Listen Drew the woodpecker is getting the bugs out of the trees.” My sweet Drew was staring at the Bunnies, they are cute and fluffy after all. We followed our path down further after the bunnies went back to the den.
The skies were getting cloudy, so I hoped the rain was not going to come back. Though the weather report said there was a chance. My little explorer with his school uniform on was undeterred, I wish I could wear shorts on a 75 day and not be cold, it is always nice to be young. Walking along our path we spot some squirrels running in circles around the tree. “Why do the chase each other like that” Drew asks. “Maybe it’s a game for them like ring around the Rosie.”
On we trek to our favorite stream where the deer family are taking their drinks. I tell Drew we cannot skip stones right now we do not want to scare them. We look through the grass for more of his favorite bugs, saw some worms just below the dirt by a tree. Looking up we see a big spider web being made between two branches. The crows were making their calls in the distance. We are finally able to skip our stones in the stream. He gets some great skips going, and we collect some new rocks for our little garden back home.
Walking past the stream we climb up the embankment and up along the ridge where we see a Fox off in the distance. He or she walks the opposite direction we are going so it is a relief we can continue to the clearing. Where there are more bugs, rocks, and Bunnies. We pass the Deer family as they run up the hill to were, they mostly frolic or maybe they live up there. We stop for a snack of Apples, Almonds, and some cheese sticks. When we were finished Drew put a couple of slices in his pocket to feed the Bunnies, I am sure.
“Mommy we’re getting to the clearing now we can see the Bunnies and the last time Daddy, and I were here I got some neat rocks too.” Drew told ne enthusiastically, I did love his passion for nature, though again my husband is much better at the nature stuff. I am a pastry Chef ask me about desserts and I am your woman, about why moss grows on trees and hello Google. Since Dad is unavailable, I step in and let him explore and see the world outside of the house and off the screen.
It is just another half mile and it is on to the clearing. He starts to pull me hand a little harder I know he is excited. We pass under the tree I glance up and see the Fox again. Then we stop and see “Daddy home……
Name: Rachel Schneider
Course: ENG 361
Date: 4/14/2020
Instructor: Debbie Graves
One Week In Las Vegas
The countdown started Friday at 2pm I got the week off from this thing I call a job (just over broke). The car was packed, it was time to hit the road. The traffic was average and climbing the Cajon Pass was not that bad. I stopped in Baker to have my favorite meal at Bob’s Big Boy, the chili spaghetti, no onions. After making my way back on the highway the traffic picked up going out of Baker, through to Primm and Stateline. I had to stop for gas at Whiskey Pete’s, so I also went in and got some snack goodies. My favorite trail mix and some cheese potato chips because vending machines are too expensive. The road was beckoning so off I went, traveling through Jean is always nice, not much to see. A prison, a few remaining casinos, some outbuildings, and a truck stop. There slogan was always fun 40 smiles closer than Vegas. You can get bored so be sure to pack some music you can have your own car concert. “I’ll face it with a grin I’m never giving in, on with the show” (Show Must Go on by Queen)
Finally, the Vegas skyline is in sight, the lights are not on yet, but they will be needing to navigate around the strip. I do say a few words the terrible drivers. This vacation was so needed my job is crazy, my kids are older now and do not need mom around anymore. Off they went to grandma’s house and I booked the week at the Delano, it is attached to the Mandalay bay so perfect access to all the fun of the strip, and just enough luxury to not look cheap. Getting the valet to take the car I check into my genuinely nice room I have a great view of the Luxor light (that comes off the top of the hotel) and the Excalibur. Now off to indulge in that genuinely nice bathtub and get some overdue reading done. My bathroom with a view has the Luxor light and that is the brightest light on the Vegas strip it comes right out of the top of the Pyramid shaped hotel. A brightness of 42.3 billion candela, you could read a paper from 10 miles straight up if you wanted to.
Once I was well soaked and finished with my chapters it was time to find something to eat besides my snack foods. After cruising the room service options, I settled on some Mexican food of chorizo and eggs with nice corn tortillas. That hit the spot so with the extra energy it was time to get out for a stroll of the property. The indoor pool is nice but small and I want to soak up the sunshine and get some exercise so I shall hit the outdoor pool tomorrow. Back in the lobby I grab those ads for things to do in the city so I can plan out the rest of my trip. There are thousands of things to do in Vegas. Do not be disappointed if you do not get everything done, that is what the next trip is for. I have a beautiful week and I want to have a good time and not have to wait for anybody, I can do what I want. I got those and cruised up through the lobby and toward the casino on my way there I saw a sign for a food and wine festival. With that guy Zac from the travel channel. Thinking hmm I did not know he was interested in food or wine. I went down and found my favorite penny slot game Lucky cat. After 15 minutes I came out putting 20 in and winning 500, so I called it a night and went to the bar to catch a hockey game and grab a fun fruity drink (I like tequila sunrise, (Tequila, grenadine, and cranberry juice). As I am rooting for the Golden Knights (local Vegas hockey team) I looked over to my left and there was Zac from the travel channel, and he likes hockey too this is awesome, and I am trying not to be a fan girl.
The game was in intermission and the Knights were winning so it was time for a new fruity drink so this time I turned around to get back to the bar and bumped right into Zac, boy was my face red. After some apologies and an offer to buy my next fruity drink (a Strawberry Daiquiri) it was a yes and I spilled that I was a fan. He told me he does have an interest in food and wine not just chasing ghosts with his crew. We had some great conversation and when the game came back on, we both sat in the booth cheering the golden knights to their victory. Now I am buzzed and standing up was going to be fun, but Zac was a true gentleman and helped me to my feet. He offered to buy me dinner. The Taco Hut was a good place the tortillas were fresh, and the company was so cool. The conversation turned to food, wine, travel, and some stuff about me. The midnight hour rolled around, and Zac had an early morning, so we said goodnight, but he was staying one floor above me, so we agreed to go to the diner in the lobby for breakfast or brunch. At 10am I was enjoying my company and this great stick to your ribs breakfast (scrambled eggs, sausage, hash browns and some great watermelon) The food offerings in Vegas are so varied you can get everything from a hot dog and beer for 1.99 at the Orleans, to a 5-star meal at Caesar’s Palace the buffets are great too. Although sometimes you want a nice sit-down dinner.
The conversation was effortless the attraction was deep. We made plans to see each other again after the food contest he was judging was over. Saying goodbye was a bit hard but the hand holding was sweet and made me feel like a schoolgirl again. After saying goodbye and I did watch him walk into the convention hall I went back to my room to plan out the rest of my day. I chose a tour of the Mob Museum, they say that Vegas was built with Mob money, but it was a Mormon founded town that later Hollywood discovered. Then many people in Hollywood who were well connected (such as East Coast mobsters) financed Bugsy Segal to build the Flamingo Hotel. As I was putting my shoes on, I got a knock on the room door and as I opened it, I got some flowers (pink roses) and an all-access pass to the food and wine festival courtesy of Zac. Let us just say the Mob Museum can wait for later I got to go to a food and wine festival and spend the rest of the week with Zac. “hi Zac thanks for the flowers it was sweet of you to remember.” He said, “It’s always right to remember a ladies flower preference because that’s the right thing to do.” Smiling the rest of the day I meet other travel channel celebrities and got to taste some great foods and many different wines. The food and wine offerings at the hotels and restaurants are varied, the Las Vegas area have become very international, so the varieties are endless.
The week went by in a blur of food, wine, conversation, and some sweet dates. I never thought I would get over the break-up that happened the week before. Getting a private Vegas tour was something completely special. I did get to see the Mob Museum, Mandalay Bay Fine Art Museum, seven magic mountains, Pinball Hall of fame and a private dinner at the food and wine festival. My days in Vegas were down to one. We had reservations at Rivera right here at the Delano the view is amazing, the food is impressive with Italian and French offers. “I have had a wonderful time this week Zac thank you for mending my broken heart.” He looked at me for a minute and said, “it’s been a pleasure to get to know you and I would not mind visiting your hometown, you always have a reason to come back to Las Vegas. The next food and wine festival is around Christmas, this one will include chocolate.” Hitting the 15 early the next morning I have visions of Christmas, a pass to the food and wine festival, also a brand-new relationship to take back home with me.
The End
When writing a short story, you want to keep it from rambling and have enough details to keep it fresh. When your reader gets into the story you want them to feel like they are there with you, going to the food and wine festival, on that hike through the seven-mountains or touring the mob museum. The details are the thing to see and make sure to watch out for punctuation and common language. An average short story is within 6,00 words or 24 pages. If you wanted too you could go short-short story and that is between 500 and 2,00 words. That comes out to be 6 pages (Minot, Steven Ch. 7 pg. 41), talk about short stories. The story is all your length and style matter as much as how you want it to come into focus.
Minot, Steven and Theil Daniel Three genres the writing of literary pose, poems and plays Ninth edition Pearson Publications 2012
Bouncing Dog Toy Emporium
August 18,2019📷📷
24755 Holly Grove Way
Brookings OR, 97415
Dear Dogs, Rule the World
I am Rachel Schneider from the Bouncing Dog Toy Emporium we make extra bouncy dog toys for our furry friends. We investigated different marketing companies and choose you to do our direct to customer marketing. The way the website is set up the customers can get the product’s directly from you is easier than a multi-level marketing plan. The distribution of Bouncy Dog Toy will be a one level channel, we will provide the toys you market, and we sell them. I would like to get some videos of our company dogs Mac and Stella playing with the toys so you can post on the website. A link for the company can also be included so the consumers know where the toys came from, what they are made of and any other facts about Bouncing Dog Toy Emporium.
Sincerely, Rachel V Schneider
Mac and Stella company dogs and testers 📷
📷 📷📷 📷A sample of our products, our bounciest toys.
Scott’s Story Part 1
I am Scott Thorn, and I am going back to WDU for the first time in 15 years, I went here for a year but after I came out as gay there really were no gay dudes. I am all men but yeah lesbians were all around some BI guys but no real gay dudes. I went back to the mainland and attended Preston University I majored in administration and minored in Literature. I did at one point in my life have a girlfriend and wanted to marry her, but I could not quash the gay lifestyle. That part of my life is over and now the old school offered me a counseling job, have not done this in a while. I get to help students toward there after college career.
I sit here on this boat and keeping an eye on my 75 Triumph I have some nerves, but it is mostly about seeing this place again, so as the boat pulls up, I get my bike going and make a stop at my new on campus apartment. Its west facing because I like sunsets more than sunrise, so I did not know it needed so much work. I have some handy skills but a little at a time. The kitchen is decent and so is the bathroom. The floors will need some polish and the deck needs to be stained, this is a duplex, so I hope the neighbors are quiet. It is furnished and done nicely so I cannot complain too much, but back on the bike to see the Dean.
I get my bike set with the kill switch and walk up the way to the Admin building, I am pretty much the only one dressed. I am wearing my good black jeans and my dress shirt, in my favorite color Maroon. I do remember this place was obsessed with sex so I will stick out wearing clothes, as I enter the building at least more admin people are dressed. Miss Grant the secretary shows me to my new office, its spacious much bigger that my last one at Preston where I shared a cubicle with another person. I have files from past students and current ones, so I started filing them when Dean Kane walks in, booty shorts and a tank top. “Welcome back to WDU Scott, we look forward to seeing you succeed you come very recommended.” I could hardly concentrate because this Dean was hung but I persevered and said, “Thank you sir I look forward to helping young students find there after WDU careers.”
After he left, I had to get my rise to settle then I continued filing and looking through some files. Clarissa Love that was a name that got around even all the way to Preston. I think she does the Jax in the bedroom or something like that. I started looking around and thought I need some life in this office so I asked Miss Grant about decorating and she said I could do what I wanted but no painting, so I went to town and checked out a flea market. I found some pictures of the beaches of Canada, some old homes in the area and a few movie posters from Rocky horror Picture Show (it is my favorite). The flea market said they will deliver to the school tomorrow so I told them I will be there at 9am.
Now with my day done I get to the store to buy some groceries and realize this place uses sextons and I was down to my last few, so now I will need to exchange but thankfully a bank is nearby so I can get some of my mainland money exchanged. I pull up to my new pad off load my few groceries and notice some other tenant left beer in the fridge, talk about luck. I got the beer went to the deck and watched the sunset over the sky. It was going to be new here, but I needed a fresh start after getting dumped and losing the job because my ex was in upper management, never will I do that again. I will find someone who does not work in the school system. After I ate a roast beef and cheddar sandwich for dinner, watched some cooking shows it was time for bed. As I was brushing my teeth, I heard the neighbors having sex. Oh, goody they are not quiet. hope they do not have super energy either. Tomorrow is my first full day and I have decorating to do, fantastic they stopped, that is the thing with us older people we do not fuck like bunnies anymore. As far as I know the neighbors are lesbians so who knows.
Sample 1- If I try my hardest, I could muster up enough courage to ask the prettiest girl in school to prom. I had a suit; bolo tie and I will shine my old boots up. The thing is my courage is not as strong as my best friend Nick, now there is one brave dude who just asked the girl I wanted to go to prom with and of course she said yes. I gather myself close my locker and put on my best smile for them both. Nick and I high five and I hug her, trying to be genuine but it is hard. I head to my Social studies class and sit down next to Megan she looks at me with some concern I tell her what happened, she then asks me to Prom…...
Sample 2-Wishing I did not have to be here I sit at the back of the funeral and think about my old high school principal. I grew up in a small town and everyone knew everyone, we only had one school and you went there for kindergarten through senior year. After my graduation I packed up my old car and headed out to what I thought was the real world. Living in a bigger city only helped spur my loneliness so who says you cannot come home again, well Mom for starters because I abandoned my family, I am not welcome at home ever again (so tired of her drama), so I am staying at Principal Mason’s house yes, the same principal that I am at a funeral for I held her hand as she lay there succumbing to cancer……
Sample 3-If you really want to get over a breakup getting back on the horse will help things along. I thought that too seven lousy dates ago so here I am on date number 8 and I am not seeing any birds singing or rainbows in the sky. He steps away to take a call he is a particularly important lawyer after all (I need to fix my picker) after he comes back, he says it go time the jury has come back so off he goes. I finish my drink and head back to my brownstone close by, I pass the new chocolate shop that just opened, and I get inside and see chocolate heaven. Looking around I do not see him at first but there he is my old college lab partner Sam I just saw a rainbow…….