by John Blandly
“Two—two fifty.”
“Okay,” Icy said, and wrote a check out for two dollars and fifty cents. He ripped the check out of his checkbook and handed it over. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry what?” the cop said.
Belenks had the keys in the palm of his hand, just staring at them blankly, popping the door locks up and down.
“You're wrecked,” Icy said, grabbing the keys. “I'm driving. Come on ladies.“ He grabbed Gigi's hand. “You're riding shotgun—like, a navigator.”
“Okay,” she said, as he opened the passenger side door for her. She glanced at Jill, who nodded in approval at the incredible advancement in medical science—a guy opening a car door for a girl.
Chapter 7
A Hotbed of Hot Beds
A treatment for a new film featuring poet Dirtyboy McF---.
The best supporting actor, Tag, Dirtyboy's wingman, is a barista who has to be a tower of strength—a pillar of knowledge—the biblical kind, when dealing with pierced, tattooed co-workers and his horrific manager.
Girls' nipples stiffen when he walks by.
He takes drugs to get deja vu—it's a thing he's studying.
Quote by Dirtyboy:
“There's a lot of criminality in this world. God knows, I've done my share.”
Dirtyboy hangs out in Tag's cafe to check out girls.
poem by Dirtyboy
Jill
I think I will never see
a rose as beautiful as thee.
In the film of my life
you were a glorious actress
dancing across the stage.
In the theater of my unconscious,
in my dreams, Jill, behave.
Chapter 8
As they drove through the shattered streets of New York they came upon a smashed car, with several smoking hot asteroid fragments on to of it. A girl was struggling with the passenger car door.
“We'd better stop,” Icy said.
They pulled over and Icy, Belenks, Jill and Gigi helped open the door. Three girls were inside. The junkyard sprinkles were coming down hard nearby, telephone lines and chain link fences, mostly.
“Better get in our car,” Icy said.
“I'll drive,” Belenks said.
“There's no room,” Jill said.
“We'll do laps,” Belenks replied. “Now that I think of it,” he added, pointing to Jill. “You can drive.”
Soon, before they knew it, the four girls from the smashed up car had jumped in Belenks' and Icy's laps, even one in Gigi's, as she warily eyed the girl in Icy's lap. They sped away, narrowly eluding a large satellite that had fallen from the sky.
Chapter 9
Gigi noticed the tattered paperback on the small round table that she and Jill sat around. “What are you reading? 'Lolita?' Oh, my god. “ She flipped through the pages quickly.
“Yeah,” Jill said. “It's really out there. My writing group buddy, Icy Rivers, gave it to me. He said it was recommended to him by Felicity Jones.”
“The actress?”
“No, the literary agent.”
“You like it?”
“It's fantastic. Funny. Amazing.“
“My god, it's autographed.”
Gigi was now looking at the inside cover, which had a handwritten note in pen that said, 'To Jill, with love, Vladimir Nobokov.'”
“Yeah, well, it's Dirtyboy's book, actually.”
“Dirtyboy? You still seeing him?”
Jill's eyelashes fluttered. She seemed unsettled. “Sure,” she said. “I like him. As a matter of fact, I asked him about the autograph. He said Felicity put it there, though he admitted that he did it himself sometimes.”
“He did what?”
“Dirty said he autographed books sometimes, in the name of the author. Occasionally in second hand bookstores.”
“I saw you holding hands.”
“Yeah, I know. Well, we all have our things. You still hung up on that guy?”
“Maybe.”
“Still going to Vickie's therapy workouts?”
“Yeah. I wish I could stop that.”
“We should go somewhere. A vacation.”
“Now you're talking.”
Chapter 10
Two months later, 356 feet below the surface of the Black Sea, on the mid deck of the USS Enterprize nuclear sub, Commander Swish paced back and forth, rolling two golf balls in the palm of his hand, like some crazed Humphrey Bogart Captain Queeg.
“Oh, my God. I can't stand it here!” he blurted out.
“Cool it, boss,” Ensign Mark said. “You'll scare the coeds.”
“God damn those bitches. They got us into this mess.”
“No they didn't, boss. It was us—us. Remember—your psychic—he had it right. We have to take responsibility—take possession of our mistakes. So we don't repeat them. “
“That's crap. We were right. Right.”
“Right? Shooting down an asteroid?”
“We didn't shoot down no damn asteroid. We just grazed the bastard—put some spin on it—like we were told to do—by the NSA—or Snowden—who the hell can remember? So, it, like, missed us--”
”Yeah, but the fallout--”
“Screw the fallout—tough crap—a little radioactive fallout—a little time lapse photography—or warp time—who knows? It's BS—now everybody's shooting at those asteroids—North Koreans—stone agers—what the f?”
“Stone agers? Those guys can't compete with us—those Cro-Magnum P.I.s. Yeah, I get it, but now the EPA—the FHA—the HUD--”
“Who, the actor?”
“No, sorry—maybe I got that wrong—the environmental agency—what the hell?”
“I know—those jerks—I mean—we're forced to hide out here—right under the noses of the Russkies—liable to get our asses blown out of the water—to kingdom come—just because of some f-ing fallout—while every Tom, Dick and Harry and especially Harriet—is out there walking around with 25 STDs--”
“Boss, boss, please—the kids will hear you.”
“The hell with them.”
Suddenly a huge beeping alarm sounded and a tinny voice called out through the speakers. ”Surface! Surface! Surface!”
“What the hell?” Swish exclaimed.
“Boss—boss—boss,” a flaming hot, red lipsticked female ensign, with plunging neckline—tight black—wide tight black belt—tight around her tight, tight uniform, said.
“Damn it,” Ensign Mark said. “I can hardly think with you looking like that!”
“Boss,” she continued. “There's a guy who fell down—like--turned his ankle on a Callaway--”
“Holy crap!” Swish said. “Not again.”
Chapter 11
One hundred miles away, Jill and Gigi were on a speeding passenger train hurtling towards Crimea, where they had purchased a cheap four-day vacation, online, just before the Summer Olympics.
“They're like, springing for dinners.”
“Who?”
“I told you—this guy Ensign Mark and a guy named Benedict--the Pope—the ex-Pope, Benedict.”
“I sure hope he's dict.”
“What?”
“Just kidding. But, cut the crap—the Pope--you expect me to believe that?”
Chapter 12
But in less than an hour and 53 minutes they were lounging on lounge chairs in bikinis on a Black Sea beach sipping tall drinks as a guy named Benedict said, “So, girls, where you from?”
“Wait. Hold on,” Gigi said. “I'm getting a call—it's Glorista. What? You're getting married?”
Glorista, in a shopping mall, near the perfume counter in Boscov's, was kind of–well—teary eyed. She had to call someone. ”Yeah,” Glorista said. “He popped the question.”
“Oh, my God, Glory,“ Gigi said.
“Hold on,” Jill said, trying to grab the phone. “Let me speak to her.” Gigi held it away from her.
Pope Benedict said, “So, you girls come here often?”
Jill ignored his question, but fluttered her eyelashes and snapped her straps anyway. After all, he was kind of cute, in a sugar daddy way, even if he was ancient.
“Glory,” Gigi said, into the phone, “You bit the dust? Tying the knot?”
“Yeah,” Glorista said. “I thought I'd roll the dice.”
“Who? That Finn guy? He was cute.”
“Yeah.”
“What's he?” Gigi said. “Like, a starter husband? A fixer-upper?”
“No. I hope not. A keeper, I hope.”
“What's going on?” Jill said.
Gigi held her hand over the receiver. “She's done for,” she said, then spoke into the phone, “So, are we invited?”
“Sure. Sure,” Glorista said.
“What happened? You're not—you know—great with child, are you?”
“No. No. Not yet. But, you know, I saw this girl—an old college roommate—she had a kid—held his hand—it was killing me. I want one. I mean, how do you do that? That's what I was thinking.”
Gigi looked away. “I know, damn it. I know.”
“Exactly,” Glorista said.
“Some appetizers?” Ensign Mark said, as he offered them a tray of crackers, cheese and pepperoni. “A little snack?”
“Sure,” Jill said. “I'll try one.”
“Hold on,” Gigi said. “I'm getting another call. Hello? Oh, Icy. How's it going? You guys get the car fixed? Yeah. The cab was okay. Oh, well, our cell service has been wrecked—something about asteroids—so, like, we couldn't get back to you. New Year's Eve? No. Nothing. I can go. When is it? We're on a research mission—a diplomatic thingy—you know—in Russia or something--”
Suddenly, without warning, Gigi's service dropped the call. She hit the button to sign off.
“What,” Jill said. “Is it that guy who didn't call?”
“What guy?”
“You know. The guy you were upset about.”
“No, no, no. It was Icy who called.”
“Oooh, Icy. Yeah. He was nice.”
“I know.”
Book III
Robin d’Hood
1
Twas a longish time ago, that Robin d’Hood felt it was the right time to propose to Shebonne, the younger sister of Mary, a Sherwood forest princess. He couldn't think of any objection to it. She was tall, about 5' 6," with agreeable reddish hair on occasion, spoke with a southern accent, was employed as a secretary to a high (prescription drugs) government official, and she had health care coverage. He thought this very fine, due to his many injuries suffered in the outfield, and while chasing golf balls through the woods.
"I hereby present you, my sweet, with this lovely engagement ring and ask if you'll marry me," Robin said, while holding out in the palm of his hand, a nice gold ring with a microscopic diamond.
"Whoa," she exclaimed. "Nice!"
"Yes, so, what dost thou sayeth?"
"Hmm," she replied. "I'm thinking."
"Yes."
"Well, I'm thinking you have no job."
"Yes, I agree. I am self-employed."
"With many expenses, especially at the golf course, and in winter, at ski areas."
"You can come."
"You know I broke my ankle in the Alps."
"Sure, but you're all better now."
"But you haven't got a job."
"I know. There are many accidents, but little liability insurance. The settlements are so low, I can barely pay my law clerk."
"And now, she's going to Italy."
"Just a vacation--I have a Russian girl-"
"Who?"
"She's from Tajikistan, I think. With a husband and three children. She's returning from Italy herself."
"Why do I need to know this?"
"You don't. I'm just rambling on."
"Where will we live?"
"In my apartment-on the sixth floor-in the parking lot of Colonie Center Mall-you've been there. You made me lobster Newburg-remember?"
"You sleep in a bunk bed."
"I plan to add a second deck. You can have the top."
"I don't know. I have to think about it. Let me hold on to this while I decide," she said, admiring the ring as she slid it on her finger.
2
So, Robin had a tremendous problem. Getting a top bunk.
He drove through the Chunnel to Switzerland (you could do it in those days, before the Brexit) to talk to his investment advisor, William Tell, who made clocks in Geneva, Switzerland, with his brothers, No Tell and Kant Tell. Robin used to go out with their sister, Ho, before he discovered her past, to his utter dismay.
"Listen," William said, as he pulled back on his bow, ready to fire into a nearby apple tree. "I'm kind of messed up that you broke up with Ho."
"I told you it was mutual."
"Not the way she Tells it."
"Sure, I'm sorry about that. We might be able to go out again. I got my Renault Simca on the road."
"The AWD?"
"Yup, a 2095."
"Okay, maybe. What can I do for you?"
"Well, I need to raise funds. The plan is--a bowl game."
"Rob, please. There are already three bowl games."
"I know. But, my research says it could go to five, even six."
"You'll never find enough teams with winning records."
"We know that. It doesn't matter. We can get teams who are, like, 5-6, and if they win, could go to 500."
"Hmm, maybe."
"Yeah. And if they play a team, like, 6-6, it would really be something. The winner could be over 500."
"Geez. You might have something there."
Now, seeing as how William was a clockmaker along with his brothers No and Kant, and even their sister would give you the time, they were very wealthy and popular, and caused many startups, and venture capital projects.
"Step into me office," William said.
William had the largest office in Geneva. He worked on the biggest time machines, like in watchtowers and college campuses, because his eyesight was very poor, despite his inch thick eyeglasses. No matter how much he trained with his bow and arrow, he could barely hit an apple tree.
His brothers, No and Kant, had good eyesight, and worked on Rolex wristwatches for many wealthy drugstore chains.
After a few seconds, William announced, "I just texted them. We're in. How much do you need?"
3
Suddenly, it got all complicated. His Renault broke down, and he was forced to lease a Citroen (the kind that you could never tell were coming or going). Plus, he was told he had to meet investors in Paris, because they liked it there, and were bored with London.
"Who are they?" Robin asked William.
"It's Marian and Gigi. I don't even know if they have any money, but they are very attractive."
"They are?"
"They are."
"Okay, when?"
"Now you're talking."
4
So, Robin made a date with Marian and Gigi, after he was forced to take Ho out to the movies (she loved animated features, but usually fell asleep within five minutes.)
"What advertisers are involved?" Robin asked Gigi, after they sat down at a sidewalk café on the Rue de la DejaVu, in the Italian Quarter, near the levees.
"Pro-Jectors," Gigi said.
"Yeah, they have pretty cool products,” Marian added. “Ankle bracelets, mandated at most college campuses for underage drinkers and sex offenders. Plus, girls can monitor their boyfriends."
"I see," Robin said, pretending to understand. He didn’t care much though, because he was fascinated by Marian, her straight black hair, red, red lips, and her voluptuous body.
"What is the gig," Gigi said.
"It's a bowl game, maybe in Mexico City, Tokyo, Paris or London. Highest bid."
"Yes, I see how this could work," Gigi said, crossing her mesmerizing legs, almost distracting Robin from Marian's cleavage.
"But who gives a damn about football anymore. Isn't it playe
d outside?" Marian said.
"Yeah, well, sometimes inside, in domes."
"Like a video game?" she said.
"No, it's real. But we're going to have old time Stone Age rules. Runbacks, concussions-it'll be amazing."
"What? Runbacks?" Gigi said.
"Yeah, the kickoffs will be from the 25, and there with be an extra point from the three, so guys can go out and get beers. The old rule was slowing up the concession stands."
"Nice," Marian said, snapping a bra strap absentmindedly.
5
“Okay,” Gigi said. “You need to meet the guys in Luxembourg.”
So, Marian, Gigi and Robin got on a train to Luxembourg, and alighting from their cabbe at the door of an exotic small Irish restaurant, which served Italian food, even pizza, they met Harmon Harmon.
Waitresses, in outfits that looked like pink lace underwear, served them. The clientele liked to observe the waitresses bend over in their low-cut dresses--the guys anyway.
“Meet Harmon Harmon,” Gigi said.
Robin shook hands with the guy, who soon lost all interest in Robin, he was so turned on by Gigi, as was quite rational.
Three red wines later, after a nice antipasto and veal scaloppini, Robin wondered where he was.
“Where am I?” he said.
“Luxembourg,” Harmon said.
“Good,” Robin said. “It’s such a small restaurant, I thought I was in Liechtenstein.”
Robin was sitting on a leather bench, with his leg rubbing up against Marian’s thigh. It was an excellent experience.
“Oh, no,” Marian said. “This place is huge compared to Liechtenstein.”
“I’m a little groggy. I’m sure I can’t get home.”
”Why don’t you stay with us,” Marian said. “Gigi’s got an apartment here.”
Sue enough, just a kilometer or a mile away, Gigi said goodbye to Harmon at the door.
He tried to kiss her, but she turned away, and his lips just brushed her cheek.
Marian whispered to Robin, “She’s saving herself for Icy.”