Thursday, June 23, 2011

SERGEANT LIKES-TO-FIGHT



Jun 23rd 2011, 14:45 by E O Hatterpol | 1228 AU FROM SUN


"HERE - have another swig of this," said Colonel Condor, passing me a leather skin full of sweet-tasting liquor.  "And make sure you waggle your throat while you knock it back.  That'll get you good & ready for my story."


I took a look around at the Condor's Crew, hoping they'd give me some answers.  The Roosterman had cocked his head back like a... well, like a rooster.  And now he was shaking it side to side with his arms up in the air.  I think he was trying to help by miming the correct waggling procedure for me, but I thought he looked kind of ridiculous!  I could just hear him talking to himself in his mind:


"Sir, this is how you waggle, sir!"


Sergeant Likes-to-Fight was staring at a nondescript point on the wall ahead of him with such silent intensity I could only assume he was holding onto consciousness for dear life; nearly half his moonshine barrel was gone.  Another man with a Fu Manchu moustache that'd take your life away was looking at me half-stern & half-expectant; the Condor had introduced him earlier as "the Z-Man."


So I did the only thing I could do: try anything & everything to make sure I fitted in with the new crowd.  They definitely seemed tougher than me.


Once I got done waggling, the Condor bravo'd me & passed the leather skin to another crew member.  Then he started talking.


"Captain Makemake used to be my first mate."


"What?!" I said.  "Makemake was in the army?!"


"No," he replied, laughing through his moustache.  "I used to be a pirate."


"You used to be a pirate?!" I said.  I couldn't believe it!


"Long time ago, probably before you were born, I was deployed on a top-secret operation to deep space.  Something terrible happened out there.  Lost my starship; lost my crew."


The Roosterman, the Z-Man & Colonel Condor raised their glasses towards a plaque filled with names.  The plaque's header read "The Final Tar-Bend."  It looked like they were toasting their fallen comrades, but I couldn't be sure.  Sergeant Likes-to-Fight kicked back 452 shots of moonshine in a single gulp, then roared so loud & long that slobber pooled at his feet.  I think that meant he was also toasting his fallen comrades.


"Only way I could get back to base was to disguise myself as a ruthless pirate.  Started wearing an eyepatch to keep one eye always accustomed to the dark in case we had to dash above decks and plunder some poor, passing starship.


"Got married to outer space," he said, and at this point he held up the ring finger on his left hand.  It was made of a precious, shiny metal that looked like it was half-platinum and half-something-crazy-from-deep-in-an-asteroid.  It moved like any other finger would.


"Pirate initiation demands one cut off his ring finger & replace it with metal," he continued.  "Just like the golden earrings of old.  When pirates died back on the seas of Earth, that golden earring paid for them to get buried.  Same with this finger: if you die, it's your ticket back to the nearest Starbase for burial."


"Is that how Makemake was able to zing down that zipline bare-handed?" I asked.


"Probably.  That & the fact he sometimes has the strength of a madman.  It hurt like hell to get my finger cut off, but I've found my new one to be useful in all different kinds of scenarios.


"Long story short, we used to be comrades.  After a while, I became corrupted.  Forgot I was a soldier.  Became the worst pirate to ever sail the seas of outer space."


"Really?  Were you really that awful?"


"Let's just put it this way," he said, stroking his feathery moustache.  "I used to have a beard."


An involuntary shudder ran through Condor's Crew.  Even Likes-to-Fight seemed uneasy.


"But that's all in the past!" the Colonel said cheerily.  "Let's forget all about it & start relaxing! I've got horseshoes, ladder toss - you're gonna love ladder toss - and I'm putting some of my world-famous - nay, galaxy-famous! - ribs on the grill.  Let's have some fun!"


The rest of my night at the Dryheave Lounge is a bit of a I-have-no-clue-what-happened.  I remember waggling a few more times, then I'm not sure after that.  I remember challenging Sergeant Likes-to-Fight to a moonshine drinking contest.  I remember he went first & drank the entire barrel in one go.  Then I remember him bringing a fresh barrel for me to top him with.


I don't remember ANYTHING after that.


This morning, I ralphed it all up, then I ralphed up my stomach juices, then I didn't have anything to ralph up but I kept ralphing anyways.  Guess that's why they call it "Dryheave Lounge"!


First thing I did this morning was take a huge chunk of Ravi the Bookman's booty to get myself into the Turkish baths, the saunas and Spatnik, the Serenity Star Spa.  Then I went back to that massage kiosk outside Asteroid's Belts & got the long treatment.  Then I got a haircut & a shave from Mr Chuzzlewit's Old-Fashioned Barber Shop With Those Chairs That Recline.


If I'm going to look my best for my date with Nixie tomorrow, I better start recovering now!  Note to self: do not challenge bears to drinking contests the night before your hot date.

1 comment:

  1. Always remember to stay "hydrated" when you step into the Dry Heave Lounge.....CC

    ReplyDelete