Chapter 3
It works perfectly.
E-mails flood in. Some are legitimate, some are jokes and some are offers for penile enhancement and herbal viagra. Dr. Justice saves those for later review.
Meeting at the Angel City Main Library, Dr. Justice and Lady Truth sift through the best of the offers and put them into three categories. 1. Immediate need. 2. Long-term projects and 3. Is this is a joke.
Most of the immediate ones can be taken care of in a matter of hours. Like getting little Billy to quit farting on his brother's head, or getting Minnie the Mooch to get off of his brother's couch and get a job. It's quick money and involves little more than some talking and the occasional threat of violence. Though, that little Billy was a tough asshole.
Flush with cash, (well, flush with a little cash) the doctor and Lady T are starting to feel good about their new business venture.
Vicki's e-mail falls under Immediate Need.
Vicki Vixen's child Valerie is missing and no one will help her. You see, as far as the authorities are concerned, Valerie Vixen doesn't exist.
The police tell her in a no nonsense way, that they have no record of her child and that her medical records say she is childless and they refer her to a psychologist for help. But Vicki says it's not true. She has a child. A sweet blond-haired 8 year old named Valerie with eyes of blue and a button nose too. She likes puppies, rainbows and all of the other things little girls are supposed to like. And she has a mommy who misses her very much.
Vicki needs help and she needs it now.
Lady Truth looks over at Dr. Justice and says, "This is our job. Whatever the cost. This is our job."
"No one elses," Dr. Justice agrees.
After a quick call to get an address, Lady Truth leaves the public library they are using as their headquarters to meet with Vicki Vixen.
Into the dark places of the bad side of Angel City, Lady Truth travels on her Honda scooter, festooned with black and purple flames. She leaves behind the malls and clean yards of the Angelic suburbs for the dank hole that sits at the city’s heart. The buildings change from dwellings to ominous abodes of vileness.
At its center Angel City has fallen into Hades. The once stylish outer facades show the wear and tear of decades of misuse. The corners crumbling and the windows of the brown buildings are permanently darkened with grit and grease. Welcome to the inner circle and all who live here have abandoned all hope.
Lady Truth keeps her laser cannon arm warmed up because she knows this is the neighborhood where bad things happen. Dark dreams are real here.
This is the neighborhood where she comes from and hopes she never returns. Ten years is a long time, but its fresh for her. She remembers waking up in these oily, garbage strewn streets and finding herself alone and unable to remember who she is.
Lady Truth can see the sun starting to set through the towers of stone that man has built. Soon it will be night, soon the darkness will swallow up these poor streets and the real horrors can start.
But that was then, she thinks. I’m not the scared little woman who woke up here with nothing. Now I’m Lady Truth and I have a life and powers and a job. And that job is to help Vicki Vixen.
The grimy five-story Greenhouse Arms Hotel and Apartments has seen better days. It's once-bright cement porch is almost black with grit and the brown stone that makes up its facing is streaked from decades of dirty rain. Lady Truth rolls right past her rendezvous point and only realizes it when she sees the hotel’s neon sign flashing in her side mirror.
Lady Truth lets out a sigh and mutters an obscenity as she hits the brakes hard and fishtales the scooter around towards the Greenhouse.
She drives up the porch steps and into the lobby before stopping with a "Woah, Nelly," She jumps off and cuts the motor, taking the key with her.
A shabby, unkempt fat man behind a cage yells at her. "You can't park that here," the building manager thunders in his weedy voice.
"Apparently, you're wrong, because I just did," Lady Truth responds, as she wonders where guys like him find pre-stained wife beater T-shirts. "And it better be exactly where I left it when I come back."
Chapter 4
Lady Truth takes the aging elevator to the fourth floor. It shakes as though an old man with trembling hands is pulling the car upward and smells like the public urinal it probably is. When she reaches the fourth floor, the doors open with the grinding sound that means they haven’t been oiled in years.
She walks down a dingy, poorly lit hallway. The walls are covered in some kind of flower print wallpaper that probably used to be colorful and cheery but now is just brown with dirt and grease. Lady Truth isn’t sure if the floor actually has a carpet or if the dust has just matted into a uniform covering.
The light from the fixtures is intentionally low, so no one notices just how bad the place really looks.
Room 432. She gives one knock and waits.
A solid, lyrical voice responds from the other side. “What do you want?”
“I’m Lady Truth, you asked for help.”
The door opens cautiously. Lady Truth can see the chain is still bolted and that the eye peering out from behind the door’s crack is wary.
“You look kind of strange,” a voice says.
“Honey, I’m a superhero, I’m supposed to look strange,” Lady T says with a slight laugh and a big smile.
Lady T can hear a sigh of relief as the woman behind the door lets go of some of her tension. The door opens wide and Vicki Vixen stands before her.
Vicki’s beautiful blond hair is slightly disheveled and her face has the look of tension etched into every soft edge. But even though she is not at her best, most women would be satisfied to look like her at her worst.
Her eyes can light fires with their intensity, and her light, yet curvy body takes all the right turns from toe to the top of her head.
“Come on in then,” she says to Lady T.
Vicki sways out of the way to make room for Lady Truth. As she passes, Lady T can smell the sent of Gardenias on her. Vicki offers her a seat on her worn couch that obviously started out white, but now looks more like a dirt rainbow with all the stains.
Lady T is startled by the room. She can see trails. Normally, her cat-eye glasses and their special lenses mask all of the trails of normal humans. If they didn’t she would be blind. She could see the slight emanations that people’s souls leave behind as they travel beside the body. They would fade after a few days, but in a city people were everywhere and so were their soul trails. It was annoying when you were in a crowded room, but useful when tracking someone. Her specialized glasses filtered most of that out, except for Rob Slash's soul. For some reason, she could see his and his clones.
Well, Slash has been here. She could see trails. Old trails. Trails overlapping. Trails of someone short. Like a little girl. Like maybe, Valerie.
She sits down, a slightly quizzical look on her face, and Vicki starts talking. Lady Truth is jolted out of her trance.
“He’s got her. I know it. He’s fucking crazy and he took her,” Vicki says with an almost hysterical edge to her voice. “That bastard tracked us somehow and he took her.”
“Who is he?” Lady Truth interrupts before Vicki can really get going.
“My ex-boyfriend, Valerie’s baby daddy,” she replies. “Robert Shan. He used to be the maintenance man and cum-mopper at the place I last worked.”
Her story unfolded like most love stories. The guy treated her nice at first. Listened to her and told her what she wanted to hear. Then came the lovin. From that sprang Valerie.
“Everything was awesome,” Vicki says. “He was the best daddy ever. I thought we might even make it permanent. Then it’s like a switch went off.”
Five years after Valerie’s birth, Robert started talking strange. He also started doing strange things. He started disappearing for days, weeks, even a month here or there without any explanation.
“He just said he was doing the great boss’s work,” Vicki says. “But I know Moneybags didn’t send him on no outings. He was pissed when Robert started disappearing. If he wasn’t my man, Moneybags would have fired him.”
Then the unthinkable happened. Robert started beating her. Telling her that she needed to have more kids and when she didn’t get pregnant right away the fists started landing home.
“That’s when I cut him off and threw him out,” she says. “But the fucker would keep showing up and then he raped me. That was it. I took Valerie and ran. We’ve been running for two years.”
She thought she had successfully disappeared, or that he stopped looking. Then she met a former co-worker on the street last week.
“Misty looked a little different, but it was Misty. You don’t forget tits like that,” she says.
“Huh?” Lady T says with a little surprise.
“She’s a working girl. I am too. Awesome tits means awesome cash in our business,” Vicki says. “Anyway, she looked different, somehow. Kind of like she was wearing a mask. I just thought she had some plastic surgery and everything was still a little tight. You know.”
“She starts talking about the old times and asking about Valerie. I don’t think nothing of it, so I tell her about our life here. But I didn’t say where I live or nothing.”
“Two days later, Valerie’s gone.”
Lady Truth sees the agony in Vicki’s eyes. She knows she has to help her.
“Do you have any pictures of Valerie or of this Misty?” Lady Truth asks.
“Not here. When you’re on the run, you don’t keep stuff about your past hanging around. But I can get it.”
“Good, we’ll need all you have. I’m going to go get my partner and we’ll be back within the hour to get things going. I promise we’ll help you,” Lady Truth says and puts her hand on Vicki’s arm.
“Thank you,” Vicki says with relief in her eyes.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Saving the World for $12.50 an hour. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Patient Review
Name: Frank Justice
Date: 7.21.10
Summary: Mr. Justice continues to display acute delusional symptoms, but is not considered a threat to himself or others at this time. He still believes that someone named Rob Slash is out to “bring the world into chaos.” This Slash is supposed to be some kind of doctor who uses a blend of magic and science to place copies of his soul into other people. (note: this delusion has been consistent since he was brought in after blowing up his own headquarters. He maintains that this was actually an attack by the clones.)
In the three years since his arrival there has been little improvement in his base delusion, though he has become less violent. Since his release from parole he has voluntarily remained at the institute for treatment. As a voluntary patient he can come and go as he pleases, but continues with therapy. Though progress is slow, the staff does believe that they see a clinical benefit to his continued therapy.
Dr. Gerald Conway
The Kane Mental Institute is a functional place. It’s bright white concrete walls and off-white linoleum floor speak of 1950s institutions everywhere. Bright fluorescent lights fight with the light streaming in from the large windows, as if it could never be bright enough to chase away the shadows afflicting the souls who live there.
In the solarium a small group session meets, and in the group sits Dr. Justice with a slightly sleepy look on his face. Mrs. Cable is drooling in the corner. Her medications had obviously just kicked in because five minutes ago she was crying softly and telling everyone to shut up.
“Well Frank,” the too-perky, fresh out of college therapist chirps at Dr. Justice. “Why don’t you tell us about what you do when you go out into the big world everyday.”
Dr. Justice looks at her with a directness that makes therapy leader Linda Wood flinch.
“I work, what do you do,” he replies with a deadpan voice.
“Well, Frank …”
“Well, Linda, it’s Dr. Justice,” Frank interrupts.
Linda drops the false smile that is the hallmark of every new-age therapist and snaps, “We don’t butt in when we are in the circle. Everyone has their say and then you may reply. Rudeness is not a Kane Institute value.”
At that, Dr. Justice adjusts his goggles, gets up and leaves, quietly closing the solarium door behind him. He loves doing that to her. It disrupts her sense of control, and if there’s one thing a therapist likes, it is control.
In the institute’s uncomfortable lobby, Lady Truth waits for the good doctor. The lobby is a huge room lined with uncomfortable benches, made even more uncomfortable by the green vinyl upholstery put over them. Lady Truth waves her laser cannon arm at the wall on the far side of the lobby. On the wall a dot of light moves in unison with her arm movements as two cat-like creatures jump and pounce at it.
Dr. Justice jumps back as he enters the lobby to avoid getting flattened by the large lanky creatures. Lady T looks over with a dazzling happy smile and points her arm at his head. The two cats leap with a lithe motion and the doctor finds himself on the ground looking up at two pairs of big dark cat eyes.
“Hello,” says Meaux. Mousie just stares at his head, waiting for the light dot to move.
“Hi, Meaux, Mousie,” the doctor says by way of greeting.
Lady Truth walks over, closing her right fist, making laser dot disappear.
“Well, I’m ready to make us some profit,” Lady Truth chirps in a happy voice. “Oh, and Mousie and Meaux are going to help.”
Mousie and Meaux push off of Dr. J's chest and bound over to Lady Truth. The two orange tiger-striped creatures, wearing little more than tight shorts with a hole for their tails, nuzzle LT's black and purple hair affectionately. The pair are part of a failed super soldier program by the government. Well, that's what they tell people.
They say that the goal is to create a super soldier by combining human and cat DNA. The goal is to create a strong, agile soldier with super hearing and excellent night vision. Mousie and Meax have all of that and more.
Unfortunately, it's the more that's the problem. They have the 10 second attention span of a cat. As well as the inability to take orders and a deep abiding love of shiny objects. They also really like Lady Truth and Doctor Justice. Mousie and Meaux seem to think she's their mom and Dr. Justice is a toy.
"So where have you been for the past three days?" Dr. Justice groans as he gets to his feet.
"I've been working out our money problems," she grins back, showing perfect white teeth. "We're going to be rolling in money as soon as these babies go up."
Lady Truth hands Dr. Justice a sheet of paper printed with a big "Need Help?" on it.
It was a job flyer with little tabs on it with an e-mail address. After much research and thought, Lady Truth came to the conclusion that people just didn't know the duo was out there and that $12.50 an hour was the perfect entry-point pricing for superhero work.
"$12.50 an hour? Doesn't that seem a little cheap?" Dr. Justice says after reading through the flier.
"Nope, not at all, considering most of us just give it away," she says. "I mean we're fighting against a system that expects help for free. Who pays the police, the fire fighters, the army, the superheroes? No one. It's effectively a free service. We have to convince people that we need to be paid. Plus that's just the rate for the first three hours. It's a sliding scale."
Dr. Justice looks at her with a quizzical half-smile.
"Uh, you realize people pay for all of those services through their taxes," Dr. Justice says dubiously. "And some superheroes are independently wealthy. The rest are on the government payroll in some form. I used to be. Man I miss having my Justice Jet and the Justice Center."
Lady Truth waves her hand in a dismissive manner. "Yeah, but that's them. We're independent contractors. We will work for anyone on the side of right. Anyone who's downtrodden and pushed aside, we will avenge. If you are wronged we shall make it right. The regular people need heroes, too, and we're priced just right. Just e-mail us your problem and BANG, we fix it -- for a price."
With that she opens up her backpack shaped like a beetle to reveal a huge stack of fliers and several roles of duct tape. She breaks down the stack into four piles and four rolls of tape, handing one of each to Mousie and Meaux and keeping two stacks.
"We'll split up and take the four side of the city and meet up in Central Plaza for lunch," she says. "You in?"
"This is never going to work," the doctor says. "Give me a stack to put up."
Patient Review
Name: Frank Justice
Date: 7.21.10
Summary: Mr. Justice continues to display acute delusional symptoms, but is not considered a threat to himself or others at this time. He still believes that someone named Rob Slash is out to “bring the world into chaos.” This Slash is supposed to be some kind of doctor who uses a blend of magic and science to place copies of his soul into other people. (note: this delusion has been consistent since he was brought in after blowing up his own headquarters. He maintains that this was actually an attack by the clones.)
In the three years since his arrival there has been little improvement in his base delusion, though he has become less violent. Since his release from parole he has voluntarily remained at the institute for treatment. As a voluntary patient he can come and go as he pleases, but continues with therapy. Though progress is slow, the staff does believe that they see a clinical benefit to his continued therapy.
Dr. Gerald Conway
The Kane Mental Institute is a functional place. It’s bright white concrete walls and off-white linoleum floor speak of 1950s institutions everywhere. Bright fluorescent lights fight with the light streaming in from the large windows, as if it could never be bright enough to chase away the shadows afflicting the souls who live there.
In the solarium a small group session meets, and in the group sits Dr. Justice with a slightly sleepy look on his face. Mrs. Cable is drooling in the corner. Her medications had obviously just kicked in because five minutes ago she was crying softly and telling everyone to shut up.
“Well Frank,” the too-perky, fresh out of college therapist chirps at Dr. Justice. “Why don’t you tell us about what you do when you go out into the big world everyday.”
Dr. Justice looks at her with a directness that makes therapy leader Linda Wood flinch.
“I work, what do you do,” he replies with a deadpan voice.
“Well, Frank …”
“Well, Linda, it’s Dr. Justice,” Frank interrupts.
Linda drops the false smile that is the hallmark of every new-age therapist and snaps, “We don’t butt in when we are in the circle. Everyone has their say and then you may reply. Rudeness is not a Kane Institute value.”
At that, Dr. Justice adjusts his goggles, gets up and leaves, quietly closing the solarium door behind him. He loves doing that to her. It disrupts her sense of control, and if there’s one thing a therapist likes, it is control.
In the institute’s uncomfortable lobby, Lady Truth waits for the good doctor. The lobby is a huge room lined with uncomfortable benches, made even more uncomfortable by the green vinyl upholstery put over them. Lady Truth waves her laser cannon arm at the wall on the far side of the lobby. On the wall a dot of light moves in unison with her arm movements as two cat-like creatures jump and pounce at it.
Dr. Justice jumps back as he enters the lobby to avoid getting flattened by the large lanky creatures. Lady T looks over with a dazzling happy smile and points her arm at his head. The two cats leap with a lithe motion and the doctor finds himself on the ground looking up at two pairs of big dark cat eyes.
“Hello,” says Meaux. Mousie just stares at his head, waiting for the light dot to move.
“Hi, Meaux, Mousie,” the doctor says by way of greeting.
Lady Truth walks over, closing her right fist, making laser dot disappear.
“Well, I’m ready to make us some profit,” Lady Truth chirps in a happy voice. “Oh, and Mousie and Meaux are going to help.”
Mousie and Meaux push off of Dr. J's chest and bound over to Lady Truth. The two orange tiger-striped creatures, wearing little more than tight shorts with a hole for their tails, nuzzle LT's black and purple hair affectionately. The pair are part of a failed super soldier program by the government. Well, that's what they tell people.
They say that the goal is to create a super soldier by combining human and cat DNA. The goal is to create a strong, agile soldier with super hearing and excellent night vision. Mousie and Meax have all of that and more.
Unfortunately, it's the more that's the problem. They have the 10 second attention span of a cat. As well as the inability to take orders and a deep abiding love of shiny objects. They also really like Lady Truth and Doctor Justice. Mousie and Meaux seem to think she's their mom and Dr. Justice is a toy.
"So where have you been for the past three days?" Dr. Justice groans as he gets to his feet.
"I've been working out our money problems," she grins back, showing perfect white teeth. "We're going to be rolling in money as soon as these babies go up."
Lady Truth hands Dr. Justice a sheet of paper printed with a big "Need Help?" on it.
It was a job flyer with little tabs on it with an e-mail address. After much research and thought, Lady Truth came to the conclusion that people just didn't know the duo was out there and that $12.50 an hour was the perfect entry-point pricing for superhero work.
"$12.50 an hour? Doesn't that seem a little cheap?" Dr. Justice says after reading through the flier.
"Nope, not at all, considering most of us just give it away," she says. "I mean we're fighting against a system that expects help for free. Who pays the police, the fire fighters, the army, the superheroes? No one. It's effectively a free service. We have to convince people that we need to be paid. Plus that's just the rate for the first three hours. It's a sliding scale."
Dr. Justice looks at her with a quizzical half-smile.
"Uh, you realize people pay for all of those services through their taxes," Dr. Justice says dubiously. "And some superheroes are independently wealthy. The rest are on the government payroll in some form. I used to be. Man I miss having my Justice Jet and the Justice Center."
Lady Truth waves her hand in a dismissive manner. "Yeah, but that's them. We're independent contractors. We will work for anyone on the side of right. Anyone who's downtrodden and pushed aside, we will avenge. If you are wronged we shall make it right. The regular people need heroes, too, and we're priced just right. Just e-mail us your problem and BANG, we fix it -- for a price."
With that she opens up her backpack shaped like a beetle to reveal a huge stack of fliers and several roles of duct tape. She breaks down the stack into four piles and four rolls of tape, handing one of each to Mousie and Meaux and keeping two stacks.
"We'll split up and take the four side of the city and meet up in Central Plaza for lunch," she says. "You in?"
"This is never going to work," the doctor says. "Give me a stack to put up."
Monday, October 24, 2011
Saving the world for $12.50 an hour
Editorial nore: OK, here's the deal. I wrote this and Liz helped as a sounding board,co-conspirator and made suggestions, so I gave her a co-writer credit. This is a novella I'm publishing one chapter at a time for the next 16 weeks. It's all done, so there will be no delays. Enjoy.
Saving the world for $12.50 an hour
By Kevin Lindsey and Elizabeth Nguyen
Prologue
The beast is at the door, and we’ve left it unlocked.
The world slouches towards its end and everyone sits on their couches and watches it happen. Daily the good die. The politician who cares about his constituents is made to look like a thief. The cop who won’t take a bribe winds up dead. Or maybe it’s just the honest worker who wants to do a good job getting fired by that new prick of a boss. No one asks why this keeps happening. No one sees that the righteous are replaced with the wicked.
And, just who are these pricks that are taking over our world? Aliens sent to take over the world? Hardly. Demons ushering in the Apocalypse? Seems a little religious, doesn’t it? Maybe, there’s just more assholes out there. Possibly.
All of those answers are wrong. There is only one prick taking over the world: Rob Slash. That damn ninja clone wizard is seeding himself throughout the world and soon we won’t be able to stop him. Even now his soul clones are taking up residence in the righteous. Every one of them was once a good person. Their souls are gone, but their bodies are still there in key positions. Their original souls have been burnt away and replaced by Slash.
We need to ask ourselves one question: Will truth and justice prevail?
-- From the asylum wall of the doctor.
Chapter 1
Frank comes to with the smell of old beer and stale peanuts full in his nose. Nothing new. He turns his head and glances up and finds himself looking up a woman’s skirt. There’s a word printed on her underwear. “Thursday” he mumbles. “Isn’t it Monday?”
The woman with the long purple and black ponytails looks down at him with a skeptical look. It’s Lady Truth. “Yeah, it’s Monday. How hard did Deus hit you?”
“Never mind,” Frank mumbles.
It all floods back to Frank. He’s called Dr. Justice, now. It used to be Capt. Justice, but that was a long time ago. A fatter, better time. Now, he calls himself the doctor. And he’s lying on the floor of the Legion of Heroes.
It’s one of those skanky superhero bars. You know. Some retired superhero or wannabe spends his retirement money opening up a little dive so he can stay close to the action. No one goes in there except superheroes or one of their dirty toadies looking to suck up to the big damn heroes. That’s the Legion of Heroes. Yeah, the name’s corny. Superheroes like it that way.
It was that dick Deus who put Dr. Justice on the floor. What, you’ve never heard Deus called a dick before? Well, despite being big, muscular, always right (he thinks he is), invulnerable (mostly) and able to fly, he’s a dick. At least, that’s what Dr. Justice thought.
“You going get up, or are you just going to stare at my snatch all day?” Lady Truth says with a sigh. “And, hey you big jerk, why’d you hit him? You’re only 10,000 times stronger,” she says to the glowing muscle man in the corner being held back by the Minotaur, a squat heavily muscled superhero with a bull’s head.
Justice dry heaves once, adjusts his cheap goggles and staggers up. “What the hell, Deus.”
“Get that worthless has-been out of here before I paste the walls with him,” Deus says glowing brighter. “He doesn’t belong here. He never did.”
Dr. Justice lunges forward his cellular iron fist at the end of his right robotic arm flying towards Deus’ head. The connection barely makes a sound, but Deus’ head snaps back and a small cut is opened on his right cheek.
Before Deus’ head can snap back, Lightning, Krank and Speed have zipped between the two, creating a wall of jittery flesh between the two heroes. The three spandex-wearing kinetically enhanced heroes wave blurry fingers at the doctor.
“Now, not Kosher, now, bad form old bean,” the three say simultaneously.
Behind the blurry, skinny figures Deus bellows, “Get him out. Get him out. And his skank of a partner, too.”
Lady Truth whips her right arm around levels it at Deus’ head and fires off a blast from her laser arm cannon. But he is ready and pumped, dodging the laser with ease.The light beam blasts a perfect, circular hole in the bar.
Everything turns into a blur for the doctor and Lady T as the kinetic heroes grab them and carry them out the back door. When the whirlwind of movement subsides the two are flat on their backs. Above them they can see the starry sky and surrounding them is the smell of rotting chicken wings wafting out of the garbage cans and the acid smell of old puke. Yup, it’s the alley.
Lightning pulses from side-to-side next to them holding a piece of paper. Dr. Justice grabs it after a couple of tries. It’s a bill for the bar Lady Truth just blew up. $5,200.78.
“You’re not welcome back until you pay that off,” Lightning says. “Such a shame. You used to be such a good hero. Ever since you went crazy it’s been one problem after another.”
Then he shimmers away in a wave of speed, leaving behind a faint breeze.
Sitting up, Dr. Justice looks at the bill in his and sighs, “Ah, shit. How am I going to pay for this? I’ve got $200 in the checking account, and I live in a mental institution. Hell, I’m stealing the orderlies’ scrubs for my action suit.”
Lady Truth bounces to her feet and looks down at the doctor. It’s nice to be short, young and in shape, the doctor thinks.
“Don’t worry, we’ll find a way to pay for it,” she says with a grim smile.
She always smiles. Good or bad, she smiles, thinks Dr. Justice.
Dr. Justice drags his aging bulk off the ground, crumpling the bill and stuffing it in his pocket as he struggles up. His long, curly dark blond hair whips back as he steadies himself.
“Yeah, sure. Look at us,” he says, looking mostly at his middle-aged gut. “I’ve got $200 and by the looks of that outfit you shop at Goodwill. Seriously, what do you do for money? I’m not even sure where you live. You look like you’re Asian, but I’m not even sure about that. Shouldn’t I know more about my partner?”
She just smiles at him, tossing her purple and black hair back, dark eyes laughing.
“Don’t worry Doc. I think I have an idea.”
Eh, why did I have to pick a perky partner, the doctor thinks.
Saving the world for $12.50 an hour
By Kevin Lindsey and Elizabeth Nguyen
Prologue
The beast is at the door, and we’ve left it unlocked.
The world slouches towards its end and everyone sits on their couches and watches it happen. Daily the good die. The politician who cares about his constituents is made to look like a thief. The cop who won’t take a bribe winds up dead. Or maybe it’s just the honest worker who wants to do a good job getting fired by that new prick of a boss. No one asks why this keeps happening. No one sees that the righteous are replaced with the wicked.
And, just who are these pricks that are taking over our world? Aliens sent to take over the world? Hardly. Demons ushering in the Apocalypse? Seems a little religious, doesn’t it? Maybe, there’s just more assholes out there. Possibly.
All of those answers are wrong. There is only one prick taking over the world: Rob Slash. That damn ninja clone wizard is seeding himself throughout the world and soon we won’t be able to stop him. Even now his soul clones are taking up residence in the righteous. Every one of them was once a good person. Their souls are gone, but their bodies are still there in key positions. Their original souls have been burnt away and replaced by Slash.
We need to ask ourselves one question: Will truth and justice prevail?
-- From the asylum wall of the doctor.
Chapter 1
Frank comes to with the smell of old beer and stale peanuts full in his nose. Nothing new. He turns his head and glances up and finds himself looking up a woman’s skirt. There’s a word printed on her underwear. “Thursday” he mumbles. “Isn’t it Monday?”
The woman with the long purple and black ponytails looks down at him with a skeptical look. It’s Lady Truth. “Yeah, it’s Monday. How hard did Deus hit you?”
“Never mind,” Frank mumbles.
It all floods back to Frank. He’s called Dr. Justice, now. It used to be Capt. Justice, but that was a long time ago. A fatter, better time. Now, he calls himself the doctor. And he’s lying on the floor of the Legion of Heroes.
It’s one of those skanky superhero bars. You know. Some retired superhero or wannabe spends his retirement money opening up a little dive so he can stay close to the action. No one goes in there except superheroes or one of their dirty toadies looking to suck up to the big damn heroes. That’s the Legion of Heroes. Yeah, the name’s corny. Superheroes like it that way.
It was that dick Deus who put Dr. Justice on the floor. What, you’ve never heard Deus called a dick before? Well, despite being big, muscular, always right (he thinks he is), invulnerable (mostly) and able to fly, he’s a dick. At least, that’s what Dr. Justice thought.
“You going get up, or are you just going to stare at my snatch all day?” Lady Truth says with a sigh. “And, hey you big jerk, why’d you hit him? You’re only 10,000 times stronger,” she says to the glowing muscle man in the corner being held back by the Minotaur, a squat heavily muscled superhero with a bull’s head.
Justice dry heaves once, adjusts his cheap goggles and staggers up. “What the hell, Deus.”
“Get that worthless has-been out of here before I paste the walls with him,” Deus says glowing brighter. “He doesn’t belong here. He never did.”
Dr. Justice lunges forward his cellular iron fist at the end of his right robotic arm flying towards Deus’ head. The connection barely makes a sound, but Deus’ head snaps back and a small cut is opened on his right cheek.
Before Deus’ head can snap back, Lightning, Krank and Speed have zipped between the two, creating a wall of jittery flesh between the two heroes. The three spandex-wearing kinetically enhanced heroes wave blurry fingers at the doctor.
“Now, not Kosher, now, bad form old bean,” the three say simultaneously.
Behind the blurry, skinny figures Deus bellows, “Get him out. Get him out. And his skank of a partner, too.”
Lady Truth whips her right arm around levels it at Deus’ head and fires off a blast from her laser arm cannon. But he is ready and pumped, dodging the laser with ease.The light beam blasts a perfect, circular hole in the bar.
Everything turns into a blur for the doctor and Lady T as the kinetic heroes grab them and carry them out the back door. When the whirlwind of movement subsides the two are flat on their backs. Above them they can see the starry sky and surrounding them is the smell of rotting chicken wings wafting out of the garbage cans and the acid smell of old puke. Yup, it’s the alley.
Lightning pulses from side-to-side next to them holding a piece of paper. Dr. Justice grabs it after a couple of tries. It’s a bill for the bar Lady Truth just blew up. $5,200.78.
“You’re not welcome back until you pay that off,” Lightning says. “Such a shame. You used to be such a good hero. Ever since you went crazy it’s been one problem after another.”
Then he shimmers away in a wave of speed, leaving behind a faint breeze.
Sitting up, Dr. Justice looks at the bill in his and sighs, “Ah, shit. How am I going to pay for this? I’ve got $200 in the checking account, and I live in a mental institution. Hell, I’m stealing the orderlies’ scrubs for my action suit.”
Lady Truth bounces to her feet and looks down at the doctor. It’s nice to be short, young and in shape, the doctor thinks.
“Don’t worry, we’ll find a way to pay for it,” she says with a grim smile.
She always smiles. Good or bad, she smiles, thinks Dr. Justice.
Dr. Justice drags his aging bulk off the ground, crumpling the bill and stuffing it in his pocket as he struggles up. His long, curly dark blond hair whips back as he steadies himself.
“Yeah, sure. Look at us,” he says, looking mostly at his middle-aged gut. “I’ve got $200 and by the looks of that outfit you shop at Goodwill. Seriously, what do you do for money? I’m not even sure where you live. You look like you’re Asian, but I’m not even sure about that. Shouldn’t I know more about my partner?”
She just smiles at him, tossing her purple and black hair back, dark eyes laughing.
“Don’t worry Doc. I think I have an idea.”
Eh, why did I have to pick a perky partner, the doctor thinks.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
hmmm
I think I am too attached to people and things. I think I should strive more and more for nothingness and a mind clear of people. Friends and loves are distraction getting in the way of understanding the true nature of the world. I'm not saying they aren't necessary, because at some point they are. What I am saying is that you have to be ready to leave everything behind and holding on to people is one of the things that keeps us stuck in a state of need and dependency.
So, I think I need to care less about individuals and things. I need to think in wider terms. I need to think in terms of a universal self, where everything is of one piece. Bits and pieces like myself don't matter, the health of the whole should be my concern. I need to spend some time at Walden's pond.
So, I think I need to care less about individuals and things. I need to think in wider terms. I need to think in terms of a universal self, where everything is of one piece. Bits and pieces like myself don't matter, the health of the whole should be my concern. I need to spend some time at Walden's pond.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Nena's Bad Day
Nena’s Bad Day
Nena lay curled next to her human, happily snoring the night away. She loved her bed and the human made a wonderful heater. The only annoying thing was that it would move around during the night. But she was used to it.
The human would turn over in the night leaving her exposed to the wild elements in her room. Without thinking, she would get up and gracefully leap over the fat man and land into the curve he made between his head and knees. Back to sleep.
Every morning she would wake just as the first sign of light would turn the sky outside the window a shade of gray. It wasn’t enough light to really see color, but enough to see the room around her. Well, enough for a human. She saw equally well at night and in day. Poor pathetic heaters. Humans were such a poor species. They couldn’t jump worth anything. They barely had fur and their ridiculous two-legged walking was beyond ridiculous.
Still, they did open food cans and provide good heating surfaces for her to rest on, so she let them stay at her house.
With a lithe, sinuous jump Nena sailed over her human and landed on the floor with an almost inaudible thump. She walked to the door that led to the laundry room and grabbed the bottom corner. With a quick flip, she sent the door swinging open and glided through it. She passed through the laundry room and into the kitchen, her paws making slight plopping sounds as the pads pounded off the linoleum.
Nena had a purpose and she would not be denied. Every morning for as long as she could remember she would wake up at the first sign of dawn and make her way through the kitchen and into the dining room. Ignore anything and everything going on around her until she reached the ledge that surrounded the east-facing windows.
Now, of course, Nena didn’t know what east was. Heck, she didn’t know what a laundry room was, but she did know what she wanted.
She gathered herself, feeling the muscles in her haunches tighten with anticipation. Nena released those coiled muscles and leaped to the ledge and stuck her nose through the slats in the vertical blinds. She settled in.
Beyond the window she could feel the slight chill of an early spring morning. It braced her and focused her. Her attention was fixed down to the end of the street that T-boned in front of her house.
The sky slowly grew brighter, the gray giving way to a soft red-yellow. Then, as she did every day, she thrilled to see the large ball of fire peek out from the horizon. It was all over in just a few minutes, but it was unchanging and its beauty grabbed at something primal inside her. Dawn, the sun, the beginning of another day, spoke to this small gray calico cat with the orange and white spotted face with a fierce passion.
It filled her with life and set the pattern for her day. Nena felt her life was perfect when she saw the sun make its daily appearance. She greeted the day and her life with enthusiasm.
Back to the lazy human’s bedroom, she jumped back into bed and walked over to the still snoozing man. She carefully crept up to his ear and stuck her nose in. Nena didn’t quite touch him, know that would startle him awake. Instead she gave a quick meow and pulled back, sitting down expectantly.
It had the desired effect. The human woke with a slightly puzzled look on his face. Well, alright, he always had a slightly puzzled look, but this one was a little more puzzly than normal.
He sat up, the top cover falling away to showcase his Dodgers T-shirt and boxers. Truly, the PJs of champions. Nena had a good sense of the ironic.
Nena just sat back and waited patiently for the human to gain his senses and let her out.
He struggled to get moving for a couple minutes, sitting at the edge of the bed pushing his long head fur out of his eyes. Nena was always fascinated with the massive shag of fur on top of its head and relative lack of hair elsewhere. Who made these strange creatures, she thought.
Of course all that came out of her sharp-toothed muzzle was a querulous “Rrrrowwwwrrr?” But the point was still valid.
With a mighty heave, the gooey man heaved himself upright and started stumbling towards the back door in the laundry room.
Nena lightly landed beside him and jogged to the door with a bouncy grace, looking back to make sure that the large lump wasn’t going to tumble over on her. With a flick of his wonderful opposable thumbs, the human undid the deadbolt and opened the door. Nena thought she should look into getting herself some thumbs, it would be nice to open her own food cans.
She bounded out into the early morning coolness with glee.
The backyard was a wild pleasure jungle for Nena. The overgrown grass was perfect for lurking and hunting. She could look for tasty schmousies or lovely lizards or just chase butterflies with abandon. In the planters that surrounded the backyard low bushes hid hidey holes where she could stash her prey, because she wasn’t allowed to take them into the house.
It was rude of the human to deny her the chance to bring her prizes in, but she allowed him this prissy side.
All in all, Nena’s life was perfect. She had food and water whenever she wanted it, a warm bed and a human heater to keep her company. She had a backyard to hunt in and lay around on a sunny day. She didn’t need anything.
She wasn’t even lonely when the heater would disappear for most of the day. She almost always had the sun for company. A constant companion that followed her through the day, giving her light to see her prey, warmth to take a nap in and something to always watch over her.
She was satisfied.
As she lay in the grass, hoping for something to make the mistake of coming into her backyard, the human came out, got into his wheeled thing and left.
It was a little odd because it was still very early in the day for the human to be lumbering around outside. But she didn’t really give it much thought. Heaters often did things like that. They would come and go without warning, come back late or even pretend to ignore you when they sat at the box with screen and keyboard.
Nena didn’t much care what they did as long as they were quiet.
Besides, it was morning nap time. She stretched out and dreamed of delicious schmice. If only humans understood how yummy they were. They were finer than the finest filet mignon. The only thing tastier is tuna. If they knew about it, her schmousie treats wouldn’t be safe.
The sound of the car coming up the driveway and into the garage in the backyard woke Nena up.
She held her head up just in time to see the human walk into the house with a box. Hmmm, Nena liked boxes. You could play in them. She got up and walked towards the back door. The human closed it before she could get there.
How rude. She let out a loud “grrrowwwrmeow” to get his attention, so he would let her in.
He ignored her, or didn’t hear her. No, she thought, he was ignoring her. He usually opened the door as soon as she asked.
With a pout, she sat down on the steps by the back door and waited for the human to let her in.
When that didn’t happen right away she resorted to scratching at the door and meowing in a loud voice. This was her house gosh darnit and she wanted in.
Something definitely wasn’t right. She could hear the human moving around in her house. He just wasn’t letting her in.
After about half an hour later, the human opened the door and Nena immediately knew what was wrong. She could smell it. Something was in her house. Something that shouldn’t be there.
The human was talking at her, but she didn’t need to be told what was in there. There was another cat in her house. Intolerable.
“Now, Nena, before you come in you should know that I got us a new kitty. His name is Morris. I thought it wasn’t fair for you to be alone all the time so I got you a friend,” the doughy heater said to her. “He’s just a kitty right now, but he’ll grow up to be your best friend.”
Nena stood at the edge of the open door and the stink of the new cat washed over her. Pure evil. That’s what it was. A familiar, but wrong, stench was mixing with her lovely scent. It was fouling her home.
Her tail fattened up and the hair on her back stood on end as she walked into the house. She was ready for the intruder’s attack.
Then she saw it peeking around the corner of the dining room table. No doubt it was hoping to take her by surprise and rip her throat out and claim her comfy bed as her own.
It was smaller than Nena. Really just about 5 months old. It’s small body was covered with orange and white tiger stripes. From behind one of the dining room kitchen legs, its big, bulbous head peeked. Horrendous green eyes bore into Nena, looking for her weak points.
Nena slunk her way into the kitchen, her eyes locking with the other cat. Then it moved from behind the table leg, and Nena jumped straight up giving out
a “ROOOOOOOWWERRRRR!”
She skittered back to the back door, which had closed behind her. Nena stayed there as Morris the Destroyer fully revealed himself. Besides his bulbous head and glowing, deadly eyes, his massive paws looked like they could rip her face off with just a single swipe.
Nena was in danger.
The human walked over to the new cat and reached down to give it scratchies.
Morris “mrrrowwwred” with false humility and pretended to accept the scratchies.
“Nena, why don’t you come over here and say “Hi” to your new friend? He wants to play with you,” the human said in its dull voice.
How could it not see? This was all a ruse, Nena thought. It was just lulling the human into a sense of calm before taking him out. Did this foolish heater know nothing of the hunt?
Nena felt trapped by the back door and a low rumbling growwwwl escaped her throat.
Then the human picked up Morris of Doom and walked over to the washing machine.
Oh, NO!!??!!, Nena thought. He wouldn’t.
He did.
The man placed the interloper on top of the washing machine, where Nena’s food and water dishes were. And Morris the Deadly began to crunch away. From the munchy crunchy sounds, Nena knew that it was doing it just to bait her into trying an attack.
She wasn’t going to fall for it. Nena left and made her way to the comfy bed. She would make her stand there.
Once safely ensconced amongst the pillows and rumpled bed sheets, Nena waited the doombringer.
Crunch, crunch, crunch, it continued as though it were actually hungry. Nena knew better, it was just trying to eat up her food so she would starve. Ha, fat chance, Nena thought. I know where the crunchies are. The only food Nena couldn’t get to was the gushy kind. Human had to open that with his opposable thumbs.
Damn, those opposable thumbs. If I had them right now, I’d choke that stupid heater human, Nena wished with a ferocious thought.
This was starting to take some time. When was it going to attack?
She peeked around the corner and saw the human was giving it more scratchies. DAMN, she thought.
Oh, well, no reason to wait, it was afternoon nap time. So she closed her eyes and went to sleep.
It could have been days, or 20 minutes later, when she awoke from her refreshing nap. She was warm and felt the snuggle of a heat source. It was nice, it wasn’t as overwhelming as the human. It was small and furry and up against her.
That’s when Nena’s memory kicked in. To her horror, snuggled up against her, snoring away, was Morris the Debauched. She didn’t know what to do. Should she kill it? It was vulnerable. Who knows when she was going to get another chance.
Suddenly it yawned and the rows of sharp, deadly, teeth glistened in the afternoon sun.
Nena fled to the back door and meowed to be let out. If only she could get outside, she would have the advantage. Luckily, the human was quick and let her out into the jungle of the backyard, where she could plan her attack.
Into the tall weeds and grass she disappeared. This was her hunting ground, her kill zone. No stray cat of death would defeat her here.
A couple minutes later, the door opened again and Morris appeared, ready to bring his doom.
As Nena watched him from the tall grass, she considered the many ways she could take him down. Nip his ears off first, then blind him and hamstring him, that would be the slow way.
No, No, Nena thought. It should be quick and decisive. Go for the throat, like her instincts told her. That was the best way. All she needed was for Morris the Dufus to walk into the grass.
Morris edged around on the concrete patio, looking nervous and sniffing around. No doubt, he knows death stalks him, Nena thought.
Morris walked up to the edge of the grass, but refused to walk in.
It has some rudimentary sense, Nena realized. Well, she would just have to goad him into joining her in the grass.
She slinked and slunk silently through the grass, making sure to keep the long strands from moving too much. Closer and closer she moved. Almost there. Almost there. Within range. Pounce.
Morris the Dunce was caught completely by surprise. But then, so was Nena. She expected a fight, but she realized as she reached the zenith of her graceful, deadly, pounce that the stupid cat was just cowering. So she landed in front of the balled-up Morris and sat down.
He peeked out from his balled up position and she lightly popped him on the head with her deadly Paw of DOOM. And the fight was on. Morris the Devil pounced back. That trickster, he was playing scared, the whole time.
His massive paws wrapped around her neck and she knew she was dead. How stupid of me, Nena thought.
But, all he did was wrestle with her for a minute and lightly bite her. It didn’t even hurt. Then he bounded away to prepare another attack.
Seriously? That’s the best he’s got, thought Nena. She walked back into the grass jungle, confused.
Once she was carefully concealed again, she carefully thought about her opponent. He was small. Too small. He must be a youngling. Maybe, he wasn’t a challenger to her. No, she thought. That’s what he wants you to think. He’s the devil. I’m sure, she thought.
Yes, that’s right. Cats know about the Devil. Haven’t you ever seen them just staring off into space and reacting for no reason? It’s because they can see the devils and angels that walk amongst us. They know all about it. They are supposed to warn us of the evil that lurks out there. Problem is, they’re cats. They don’t exactly follow orders very well.
Anyway, it was mid-late afternoon nap time, so Nena fell asleep.
MMMMMMMMrrrrrowwwr, Nena said and stretched her whole body out as she woke up from her nap. Nothing better than a mid-late afternoon nap, she thought. Unless it’s an early-late afternoon nap. Oh, alright, all naps were good.
Nena’s senses instantly shot to Red Alert as the grass moved shushed and moved. Damn, she thought, it’s making its move.
A butterfly flew past her nose, it’s yellow and orange wings flapping for all it was worth. Right behind it, galumphing like a fool, came Morris.
Nena took one look at his awkward running and noisy, wasted movement and she could tell he would never catch that butterfly. Such a shame, she thought. Pulling off butterfly wings was always such fun and this was a real beauty.
What was she going to do with this useless little kitty? It would never defeat her and fighting an unfair battle would just be against the cat battle code.
She would just have to train it, she supposed. Of course, she wouldn’t train it too well. She wanted to win. Nena would train it just enough that it would be able to give her a true fight. Then she could defeat it without repercussions from the League of Cat Jousting.
Yes, there were rules to this sort of thing. The rules were fairly simple.
1. Give Fair Warning. (growl, spit, fluff out your fur)
2. Only fight if the other cat can fight back.
Yup, those are the rules. And this was a rule No.2 exception.
Just as she came to this conclusion the back door opened and the heater human called them in. It was gushy food time.
Nena ignored Morris as they ran past the human and into the kitchen, where the meaty treat was dispensed. There were two little white plates side-by-side on the floor. On each was a delightful dollop of juicy meat.
Nena picked the left and Morris the right and they both began gobbling away. Nom nom nom.
After dinner, Nena went into the bedroom and jumped from the floor to the window ledge. She settled in and cleaned her paws and face, getting rid of any lingering traces of dinner. She was in the window for a reason. She wanted to say goodbye to the sun. As she greeted it in the morning, she said goodbye each evening.
The blue began to fade from the sky and red returned as she watched the fireball descend.
She heard a thud as Morris jumped up to join her. I’ll train you little one, then the true battle begins, she thought. Then, she dismissed him and turned back just in time to see the last of the sun settle in for the night.
When she turned her head back she found herself looking down at the tiny kitten who had snuggled up to her chest. She bent down and began to clean its face. A strange rumble built in her chest as her tongue slipped over his dirty fur and a purr burst forth from her.
She didn’t know why, but somehow she felt more complete as she looked down at this little orange and white furball. Could she have been lonely, she thought? Well, it didn’t matter, she wasn’t going to be anymore.
Training starts tomorrow, little one, she thought. She continued to purr as Morris fell asleep against her.
Nena lay curled next to her human, happily snoring the night away. She loved her bed and the human made a wonderful heater. The only annoying thing was that it would move around during the night. But she was used to it.
The human would turn over in the night leaving her exposed to the wild elements in her room. Without thinking, she would get up and gracefully leap over the fat man and land into the curve he made between his head and knees. Back to sleep.
Every morning she would wake just as the first sign of light would turn the sky outside the window a shade of gray. It wasn’t enough light to really see color, but enough to see the room around her. Well, enough for a human. She saw equally well at night and in day. Poor pathetic heaters. Humans were such a poor species. They couldn’t jump worth anything. They barely had fur and their ridiculous two-legged walking was beyond ridiculous.
Still, they did open food cans and provide good heating surfaces for her to rest on, so she let them stay at her house.
With a lithe, sinuous jump Nena sailed over her human and landed on the floor with an almost inaudible thump. She walked to the door that led to the laundry room and grabbed the bottom corner. With a quick flip, she sent the door swinging open and glided through it. She passed through the laundry room and into the kitchen, her paws making slight plopping sounds as the pads pounded off the linoleum.
Nena had a purpose and she would not be denied. Every morning for as long as she could remember she would wake up at the first sign of dawn and make her way through the kitchen and into the dining room. Ignore anything and everything going on around her until she reached the ledge that surrounded the east-facing windows.
Now, of course, Nena didn’t know what east was. Heck, she didn’t know what a laundry room was, but she did know what she wanted.
She gathered herself, feeling the muscles in her haunches tighten with anticipation. Nena released those coiled muscles and leaped to the ledge and stuck her nose through the slats in the vertical blinds. She settled in.
Beyond the window she could feel the slight chill of an early spring morning. It braced her and focused her. Her attention was fixed down to the end of the street that T-boned in front of her house.
The sky slowly grew brighter, the gray giving way to a soft red-yellow. Then, as she did every day, she thrilled to see the large ball of fire peek out from the horizon. It was all over in just a few minutes, but it was unchanging and its beauty grabbed at something primal inside her. Dawn, the sun, the beginning of another day, spoke to this small gray calico cat with the orange and white spotted face with a fierce passion.
It filled her with life and set the pattern for her day. Nena felt her life was perfect when she saw the sun make its daily appearance. She greeted the day and her life with enthusiasm.
Back to the lazy human’s bedroom, she jumped back into bed and walked over to the still snoozing man. She carefully crept up to his ear and stuck her nose in. Nena didn’t quite touch him, know that would startle him awake. Instead she gave a quick meow and pulled back, sitting down expectantly.
It had the desired effect. The human woke with a slightly puzzled look on his face. Well, alright, he always had a slightly puzzled look, but this one was a little more puzzly than normal.
He sat up, the top cover falling away to showcase his Dodgers T-shirt and boxers. Truly, the PJs of champions. Nena had a good sense of the ironic.
Nena just sat back and waited patiently for the human to gain his senses and let her out.
He struggled to get moving for a couple minutes, sitting at the edge of the bed pushing his long head fur out of his eyes. Nena was always fascinated with the massive shag of fur on top of its head and relative lack of hair elsewhere. Who made these strange creatures, she thought.
Of course all that came out of her sharp-toothed muzzle was a querulous “Rrrrowwwwrrr?” But the point was still valid.
With a mighty heave, the gooey man heaved himself upright and started stumbling towards the back door in the laundry room.
Nena lightly landed beside him and jogged to the door with a bouncy grace, looking back to make sure that the large lump wasn’t going to tumble over on her. With a flick of his wonderful opposable thumbs, the human undid the deadbolt and opened the door. Nena thought she should look into getting herself some thumbs, it would be nice to open her own food cans.
She bounded out into the early morning coolness with glee.
The backyard was a wild pleasure jungle for Nena. The overgrown grass was perfect for lurking and hunting. She could look for tasty schmousies or lovely lizards or just chase butterflies with abandon. In the planters that surrounded the backyard low bushes hid hidey holes where she could stash her prey, because she wasn’t allowed to take them into the house.
It was rude of the human to deny her the chance to bring her prizes in, but she allowed him this prissy side.
All in all, Nena’s life was perfect. She had food and water whenever she wanted it, a warm bed and a human heater to keep her company. She had a backyard to hunt in and lay around on a sunny day. She didn’t need anything.
She wasn’t even lonely when the heater would disappear for most of the day. She almost always had the sun for company. A constant companion that followed her through the day, giving her light to see her prey, warmth to take a nap in and something to always watch over her.
She was satisfied.
As she lay in the grass, hoping for something to make the mistake of coming into her backyard, the human came out, got into his wheeled thing and left.
It was a little odd because it was still very early in the day for the human to be lumbering around outside. But she didn’t really give it much thought. Heaters often did things like that. They would come and go without warning, come back late or even pretend to ignore you when they sat at the box with screen and keyboard.
Nena didn’t much care what they did as long as they were quiet.
Besides, it was morning nap time. She stretched out and dreamed of delicious schmice. If only humans understood how yummy they were. They were finer than the finest filet mignon. The only thing tastier is tuna. If they knew about it, her schmousie treats wouldn’t be safe.
The sound of the car coming up the driveway and into the garage in the backyard woke Nena up.
She held her head up just in time to see the human walk into the house with a box. Hmmm, Nena liked boxes. You could play in them. She got up and walked towards the back door. The human closed it before she could get there.
How rude. She let out a loud “grrrowwwrmeow” to get his attention, so he would let her in.
He ignored her, or didn’t hear her. No, she thought, he was ignoring her. He usually opened the door as soon as she asked.
With a pout, she sat down on the steps by the back door and waited for the human to let her in.
When that didn’t happen right away she resorted to scratching at the door and meowing in a loud voice. This was her house gosh darnit and she wanted in.
Something definitely wasn’t right. She could hear the human moving around in her house. He just wasn’t letting her in.
After about half an hour later, the human opened the door and Nena immediately knew what was wrong. She could smell it. Something was in her house. Something that shouldn’t be there.
The human was talking at her, but she didn’t need to be told what was in there. There was another cat in her house. Intolerable.
“Now, Nena, before you come in you should know that I got us a new kitty. His name is Morris. I thought it wasn’t fair for you to be alone all the time so I got you a friend,” the doughy heater said to her. “He’s just a kitty right now, but he’ll grow up to be your best friend.”
Nena stood at the edge of the open door and the stink of the new cat washed over her. Pure evil. That’s what it was. A familiar, but wrong, stench was mixing with her lovely scent. It was fouling her home.
Her tail fattened up and the hair on her back stood on end as she walked into the house. She was ready for the intruder’s attack.
Then she saw it peeking around the corner of the dining room table. No doubt it was hoping to take her by surprise and rip her throat out and claim her comfy bed as her own.
It was smaller than Nena. Really just about 5 months old. It’s small body was covered with orange and white tiger stripes. From behind one of the dining room kitchen legs, its big, bulbous head peeked. Horrendous green eyes bore into Nena, looking for her weak points.
Nena slunk her way into the kitchen, her eyes locking with the other cat. Then it moved from behind the table leg, and Nena jumped straight up giving out
a “ROOOOOOOWWERRRRR!”
She skittered back to the back door, which had closed behind her. Nena stayed there as Morris the Destroyer fully revealed himself. Besides his bulbous head and glowing, deadly eyes, his massive paws looked like they could rip her face off with just a single swipe.
Nena was in danger.
The human walked over to the new cat and reached down to give it scratchies.
Morris “mrrrowwwred” with false humility and pretended to accept the scratchies.
“Nena, why don’t you come over here and say “Hi” to your new friend? He wants to play with you,” the human said in its dull voice.
How could it not see? This was all a ruse, Nena thought. It was just lulling the human into a sense of calm before taking him out. Did this foolish heater know nothing of the hunt?
Nena felt trapped by the back door and a low rumbling growwwwl escaped her throat.
Then the human picked up Morris of Doom and walked over to the washing machine.
Oh, NO!!??!!, Nena thought. He wouldn’t.
He did.
The man placed the interloper on top of the washing machine, where Nena’s food and water dishes were. And Morris the Deadly began to crunch away. From the munchy crunchy sounds, Nena knew that it was doing it just to bait her into trying an attack.
She wasn’t going to fall for it. Nena left and made her way to the comfy bed. She would make her stand there.
Once safely ensconced amongst the pillows and rumpled bed sheets, Nena waited the doombringer.
Crunch, crunch, crunch, it continued as though it were actually hungry. Nena knew better, it was just trying to eat up her food so she would starve. Ha, fat chance, Nena thought. I know where the crunchies are. The only food Nena couldn’t get to was the gushy kind. Human had to open that with his opposable thumbs.
Damn, those opposable thumbs. If I had them right now, I’d choke that stupid heater human, Nena wished with a ferocious thought.
This was starting to take some time. When was it going to attack?
She peeked around the corner and saw the human was giving it more scratchies. DAMN, she thought.
Oh, well, no reason to wait, it was afternoon nap time. So she closed her eyes and went to sleep.
It could have been days, or 20 minutes later, when she awoke from her refreshing nap. She was warm and felt the snuggle of a heat source. It was nice, it wasn’t as overwhelming as the human. It was small and furry and up against her.
That’s when Nena’s memory kicked in. To her horror, snuggled up against her, snoring away, was Morris the Debauched. She didn’t know what to do. Should she kill it? It was vulnerable. Who knows when she was going to get another chance.
Suddenly it yawned and the rows of sharp, deadly, teeth glistened in the afternoon sun.
Nena fled to the back door and meowed to be let out. If only she could get outside, she would have the advantage. Luckily, the human was quick and let her out into the jungle of the backyard, where she could plan her attack.
Into the tall weeds and grass she disappeared. This was her hunting ground, her kill zone. No stray cat of death would defeat her here.
A couple minutes later, the door opened again and Morris appeared, ready to bring his doom.
As Nena watched him from the tall grass, she considered the many ways she could take him down. Nip his ears off first, then blind him and hamstring him, that would be the slow way.
No, No, Nena thought. It should be quick and decisive. Go for the throat, like her instincts told her. That was the best way. All she needed was for Morris the Dufus to walk into the grass.
Morris edged around on the concrete patio, looking nervous and sniffing around. No doubt, he knows death stalks him, Nena thought.
Morris walked up to the edge of the grass, but refused to walk in.
It has some rudimentary sense, Nena realized. Well, she would just have to goad him into joining her in the grass.
She slinked and slunk silently through the grass, making sure to keep the long strands from moving too much. Closer and closer she moved. Almost there. Almost there. Within range. Pounce.
Morris the Dunce was caught completely by surprise. But then, so was Nena. She expected a fight, but she realized as she reached the zenith of her graceful, deadly, pounce that the stupid cat was just cowering. So she landed in front of the balled-up Morris and sat down.
He peeked out from his balled up position and she lightly popped him on the head with her deadly Paw of DOOM. And the fight was on. Morris the Devil pounced back. That trickster, he was playing scared, the whole time.
His massive paws wrapped around her neck and she knew she was dead. How stupid of me, Nena thought.
But, all he did was wrestle with her for a minute and lightly bite her. It didn’t even hurt. Then he bounded away to prepare another attack.
Seriously? That’s the best he’s got, thought Nena. She walked back into the grass jungle, confused.
Once she was carefully concealed again, she carefully thought about her opponent. He was small. Too small. He must be a youngling. Maybe, he wasn’t a challenger to her. No, she thought. That’s what he wants you to think. He’s the devil. I’m sure, she thought.
Yes, that’s right. Cats know about the Devil. Haven’t you ever seen them just staring off into space and reacting for no reason? It’s because they can see the devils and angels that walk amongst us. They know all about it. They are supposed to warn us of the evil that lurks out there. Problem is, they’re cats. They don’t exactly follow orders very well.
Anyway, it was mid-late afternoon nap time, so Nena fell asleep.
MMMMMMMMrrrrrowwwr, Nena said and stretched her whole body out as she woke up from her nap. Nothing better than a mid-late afternoon nap, she thought. Unless it’s an early-late afternoon nap. Oh, alright, all naps were good.
Nena’s senses instantly shot to Red Alert as the grass moved shushed and moved. Damn, she thought, it’s making its move.
A butterfly flew past her nose, it’s yellow and orange wings flapping for all it was worth. Right behind it, galumphing like a fool, came Morris.
Nena took one look at his awkward running and noisy, wasted movement and she could tell he would never catch that butterfly. Such a shame, she thought. Pulling off butterfly wings was always such fun and this was a real beauty.
What was she going to do with this useless little kitty? It would never defeat her and fighting an unfair battle would just be against the cat battle code.
She would just have to train it, she supposed. Of course, she wouldn’t train it too well. She wanted to win. Nena would train it just enough that it would be able to give her a true fight. Then she could defeat it without repercussions from the League of Cat Jousting.
Yes, there were rules to this sort of thing. The rules were fairly simple.
1. Give Fair Warning. (growl, spit, fluff out your fur)
2. Only fight if the other cat can fight back.
Yup, those are the rules. And this was a rule No.2 exception.
Just as she came to this conclusion the back door opened and the heater human called them in. It was gushy food time.
Nena ignored Morris as they ran past the human and into the kitchen, where the meaty treat was dispensed. There were two little white plates side-by-side on the floor. On each was a delightful dollop of juicy meat.
Nena picked the left and Morris the right and they both began gobbling away. Nom nom nom.
After dinner, Nena went into the bedroom and jumped from the floor to the window ledge. She settled in and cleaned her paws and face, getting rid of any lingering traces of dinner. She was in the window for a reason. She wanted to say goodbye to the sun. As she greeted it in the morning, she said goodbye each evening.
The blue began to fade from the sky and red returned as she watched the fireball descend.
She heard a thud as Morris jumped up to join her. I’ll train you little one, then the true battle begins, she thought. Then, she dismissed him and turned back just in time to see the last of the sun settle in for the night.
When she turned her head back she found herself looking down at the tiny kitten who had snuggled up to her chest. She bent down and began to clean its face. A strange rumble built in her chest as her tongue slipped over his dirty fur and a purr burst forth from her.
She didn’t know why, but somehow she felt more complete as she looked down at this little orange and white furball. Could she have been lonely, she thought? Well, it didn’t matter, she wasn’t going to be anymore.
Training starts tomorrow, little one, she thought. She continued to purr as Morris fell asleep against her.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
NERDS AHOY! Thor is out.
This is what two 40-something nerds do when a new comic book movie is coming out. This is an e-mail echange between me and TQ. He started it with an e-mail entitled "the pigs...THE PIGS" I took on the persona of Thor and he took on the persona of The Thing. Oh, yeah, Le Chose is what the French call The Thing.
TQ: April 19 at 3:27pm ReportJust had to get that out.
Kevin Lindsey April 20 at 11:22am
Who art thou? Is it thee Loki, thou churlish knave?
Know thee then this, I am Thor, son of Odin and I shall face thee in battle upon the Earth where I will crush thee with my war hammer Mjonir.
Your head shall adorn my father's hall in Asgaard and I shall carry the memory of my victory unto my final battle in Ragnarok.
TQ April 20 at 11:24am Report
For Asgard and Honor Eternal! Onward ye Warriors Three!
Kevin Lindsey April 20 at 11:26am
Onward fellow warrior.
TQ April 20 at 11:28am Report
Churlish knave, Clobberin' time is at hand!
Kevin Lindsey April 20 at 2:02pm
Wait, now thou art Le Chose?
TQ April 20 at 2:10pm Report
Le Chose is a warrior grand in any tongue. Have at thee!
Kevin Lindsey April 21 at 10:54am
I gird my loins and place my herald upon my shield. Today, by almighty Odin, you shall taste defeat
TQ April 21 at 10:59am Report
Fie upon thee, brazen one. Midgard's and Asgard's bravest shall not submit so easily to thy hollow grumblings. Tis clobberin' time and flame on anew!
Kevin Lindsey April 21 at 11:39am
When you first feel my mighty footsteps upon the field of battle thy rocky skin shall tinkle and clank as you tremble. That flame shall be but a candle to be blown out by the passing breeze of my war hammer. Know thee this, there will be blood upon the battle field this day. So says Thor, son of Odin. Thane of Misgard. A lord of Valhalla.
TQ April 21 at 12:22pm Report
Insolent clod! Dost thou persist in thy meanderings. Raise thy arms, hence, for you shall feel the wrath of the mighty Le Chose!
Kevin Lindsey April 22 at 7:05pm
If you strike me down I will become stronger than you can imagine.
TQ April 25 at 7:58am Report
You should not have come back. When I left you I was but the learner. Now I am the master.
TQ: April 19 at 3:27pm ReportJust had to get that out.
Kevin Lindsey April 20 at 11:22am
Who art thou? Is it thee Loki, thou churlish knave?
Know thee then this, I am Thor, son of Odin and I shall face thee in battle upon the Earth where I will crush thee with my war hammer Mjonir.
Your head shall adorn my father's hall in Asgaard and I shall carry the memory of my victory unto my final battle in Ragnarok.
TQ April 20 at 11:24am Report
For Asgard and Honor Eternal! Onward ye Warriors Three!
Kevin Lindsey April 20 at 11:26am
Onward fellow warrior.
TQ April 20 at 11:28am Report
Churlish knave, Clobberin' time is at hand!
Kevin Lindsey April 20 at 2:02pm
Wait, now thou art Le Chose?
TQ April 20 at 2:10pm Report
Le Chose is a warrior grand in any tongue. Have at thee!
Kevin Lindsey April 21 at 10:54am
I gird my loins and place my herald upon my shield. Today, by almighty Odin, you shall taste defeat
TQ April 21 at 10:59am Report
Fie upon thee, brazen one. Midgard's and Asgard's bravest shall not submit so easily to thy hollow grumblings. Tis clobberin' time and flame on anew!
Kevin Lindsey April 21 at 11:39am
When you first feel my mighty footsteps upon the field of battle thy rocky skin shall tinkle and clank as you tremble. That flame shall be but a candle to be blown out by the passing breeze of my war hammer. Know thee this, there will be blood upon the battle field this day. So says Thor, son of Odin. Thane of Misgard. A lord of Valhalla.
TQ April 21 at 12:22pm Report
Insolent clod! Dost thou persist in thy meanderings. Raise thy arms, hence, for you shall feel the wrath of the mighty Le Chose!
Kevin Lindsey April 22 at 7:05pm
If you strike me down I will become stronger than you can imagine.
TQ April 25 at 7:58am Report
You should not have come back. When I left you I was but the learner. Now I am the master.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Dreams
Lately, I've been having similar dreams over and over. It's not the same dream, but the theme is always pretty similar. I recognize that most of my dreams are just me dealing with things that I see in my life, whether I consciously notice them or not.
There's always the not making deadline dream, or the dream of being back in high school even though I know I've long graduated. Simple enough to figure out they are failure dreams. Usually, I get those dreams because of stress at work or because we've had another round of layoffs and the paper is getting worse and worse. So, failure dreams seem appropriate.
These recent dreams are more subtle, but more disturbing. They seem to indicate that either I feel alienated or that I am alienated from people. They even suggest that I'm allowing or encouraging that alienation. And I might be.
I won't say that I'm not. The one thing the scientologists have right and the reason they can really draw in the suckers is that their founding principle is that we sabotage ourselves. What can I do about it? According to the dreams, not much.
Anyway, here's a couple of the dreams I've had in the last couple weeks:
Liz and I are jogging back to a hotel after doing something on vacation. I'm falling a little behind because the trail is a little dangerous and I'm not in great shape. At some point, she gets tired of waiting for me to catch up and says something rude and that she'll see me later. Then she runs off. I tell her to stop and she does, says "why should I?" then turns around and runs away.
I get back to the hotel a few minutes after her and she's already changed into dinner clothes and says, "Hurry up, we'll be late for our reservations." I say I need to take a shower and she says she's not waiting and leaves.
I decide that she doesn't need me there, so I change, pack, pay the hotel bill and leave. The end.
Hmmm. Guess I'm a quitter. On to the next one.
I'm at a big party with lots of friends at a restaurant. We have to pay before we can eat, so we're figuring out the check and one asks how much tip we should leave. I say 15 percent is fine. Another friend says 19, so we don't look cheap. I argue a little that 15 is perfectly acceptable,but everyone now wants 19 so we don't look cheap. I say fine.
As I'm looking through my pockets for my money, everyone slips away into the crowd. I find my cash look up and everyone I came with is gone. I look around the restaurant's main dining room and can't find my group.
So I go outside and look around the back patio. Nope, still don't see them. Everyone has broken into groups of friends. I look around a little more and I notice these groups all have their backs to me. I walk around the front and find that I can only look through the windows of the restaurant now. I see the door, but I don't see any reason to go in if there's no one in there who wants me to be around. So I stand on the front patio and look into the dark past the parking lot and the restaurant's sign. And then i walk away.
Kind of lame. The dreams bother me because in each of them I have the feeling like I've already accepted this. These are memories, not changeable future actions.
Are they just memories? Is it already too late? Maybe. Is there anything I can do?
Well, on one hand, not much. If someone doesn't want to be part of my life anymore I can't really make them stay around. Goodbye and good luck.
However, if I'm pushing people away, that's my fault and I can do something about that. I need to be more aware of how I'm treating people, and I need to make sure I do try to include my friends in my life better. In other words, be more open and make sure that I'm open to them.
There's always the not making deadline dream, or the dream of being back in high school even though I know I've long graduated. Simple enough to figure out they are failure dreams. Usually, I get those dreams because of stress at work or because we've had another round of layoffs and the paper is getting worse and worse. So, failure dreams seem appropriate.
These recent dreams are more subtle, but more disturbing. They seem to indicate that either I feel alienated or that I am alienated from people. They even suggest that I'm allowing or encouraging that alienation. And I might be.
I won't say that I'm not. The one thing the scientologists have right and the reason they can really draw in the suckers is that their founding principle is that we sabotage ourselves. What can I do about it? According to the dreams, not much.
Anyway, here's a couple of the dreams I've had in the last couple weeks:
Liz and I are jogging back to a hotel after doing something on vacation. I'm falling a little behind because the trail is a little dangerous and I'm not in great shape. At some point, she gets tired of waiting for me to catch up and says something rude and that she'll see me later. Then she runs off. I tell her to stop and she does, says "why should I?" then turns around and runs away.
I get back to the hotel a few minutes after her and she's already changed into dinner clothes and says, "Hurry up, we'll be late for our reservations." I say I need to take a shower and she says she's not waiting and leaves.
I decide that she doesn't need me there, so I change, pack, pay the hotel bill and leave. The end.
Hmmm. Guess I'm a quitter. On to the next one.
I'm at a big party with lots of friends at a restaurant. We have to pay before we can eat, so we're figuring out the check and one asks how much tip we should leave. I say 15 percent is fine. Another friend says 19, so we don't look cheap. I argue a little that 15 is perfectly acceptable,but everyone now wants 19 so we don't look cheap. I say fine.
As I'm looking through my pockets for my money, everyone slips away into the crowd. I find my cash look up and everyone I came with is gone. I look around the restaurant's main dining room and can't find my group.
So I go outside and look around the back patio. Nope, still don't see them. Everyone has broken into groups of friends. I look around a little more and I notice these groups all have their backs to me. I walk around the front and find that I can only look through the windows of the restaurant now. I see the door, but I don't see any reason to go in if there's no one in there who wants me to be around. So I stand on the front patio and look into the dark past the parking lot and the restaurant's sign. And then i walk away.
Kind of lame. The dreams bother me because in each of them I have the feeling like I've already accepted this. These are memories, not changeable future actions.
Are they just memories? Is it already too late? Maybe. Is there anything I can do?
Well, on one hand, not much. If someone doesn't want to be part of my life anymore I can't really make them stay around. Goodbye and good luck.
However, if I'm pushing people away, that's my fault and I can do something about that. I need to be more aware of how I'm treating people, and I need to make sure I do try to include my friends in my life better. In other words, be more open and make sure that I'm open to them.
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