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Author Topic: Countdown from thirty-eight  (Read 16359 times)
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boo rad

Bending Unit
« on: 05-16-2010 09:26 »
« Last Edit on: 06-17-2010 20:16 »

 Some of you will remember a version of Countdown from Thirty-eight being posted several weeks ago.  I was terribly stupid when I wrote upfront that I had borrowed complete portions of another author’s work albeit 1% of the story.  Maybe influenced by T.S. Eliot's quote 'Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal’.  In my naiveté, this was a compliment.  While it was not plagiarism—there was no attempt to pass off the work as my own—it was nonetheless a previously published passages which was enough to flag it on another site although that did not happen here.  The author has accepted my apologies for my disrespect to her story and having read my story has no qualms with my re-posting it.   Since I regard all of my writing as practical training in obtaining a class 2A wordsmith license, I request as much comment and critical response as you are willing to give; I promise I shall try not to cry or pout.  
      Countdown from Thirty-eight; a Futurama story; the non-adult version.
      Dedicated to the real Leela out there,  with love—as always
 Women and cats will do as they please and men and dogs hould relax and get used to the idea.      Robert Heinlein              The journal of Turanga Leela            
24 December, 3010, Friday.  More snow today.  Woke up early and after feeding Nibbler I walked down to Como’s for cappuccino & croissant (I know, I know—I’m already too fat but I was down and I needed it) and took a walk in the falling snow.  Lovely.  Made fat snow angels on library lawn & this little girl wanted me to see hers-she was so darling-I wish she were mine.  Might be the only way I shall have a daughter—kidnap her.  At least I wouldn’t end up with a freak like her new mom would be.  I am rapidly digressing here: bad, bad, bad—think self-affirmations and -back to snow:  I caught snowflakes on my tongue and washed them down with the delightful coffee.  Store windows are so pretty but am glad my xmas shopping is done.  Lunch:  walked too far and got chilled coming home.  Way to go, klutz!  Stopped at that little hole in the wall around corner-windows all steamed and hanging ferns decorate in xmas lites looked festive.  Bean soup and two corn muffins with hot peppers with a dark draft.  As good as double soup Tuesday—maybe better!  I’ll bet I’m the only person in this hemisphere who sometimes would like to be back at the Oraphanarium where sometimes I was taken care of.  The waiter left me his phone number on my receipt.  Said my eye was beautiful and wanted to paint me.  Hah, I bet it’s my eye he wants to paint.  Cute but just a kid and if he wants me, he’s gotta be a jerk.  Gave his number to a bunch of giggling school girls.  Just finished cup of tea & lemon in good china (rose chintz) while wrapping presents and listening to Brahms (listening to his second adagio movement of Concerto No. 1 in D Minor for Piano is one of the few times I can relax and not be on the edge of panic).  Bah: I can’t tie bows worth crap, that’s why I wear these boots: snaps.  I should put snaps on my presents.   Got Bender a case of Mom’s primo-nonsynthetic-organic-robo oil; that would look good in snaps.  He better say thank you.  God, that stuff’s expensive.  I got Amy an ounce of essence of Athena and a real silk scarf.  Little brat has everything already—including someone who loves her but she’ll find something to bitch about.  I would kill for any of those-especially the latter.  I bought the Professor an antique slide rule.  Hope he knows how to use it; I can’t figure it out & couldn’t find a file on its use anywhere.  Picked up a case of jerked fruitcake for Hermes and a new clipboard.  I still don’t have anything for Fry.  He’ll probably get me a scarf and a sunglass or something cheap like that so I shouldn’t get him something too expensive that would embarrass him.  I’ll go out again in an hour.  
      Update:  Uh oh, spent  way too much time looking for my gift to Fry.  I finally settled on wool—I don’t believe it either—navy blu sweater and a light gray blazer of the same disgustingly expensive stuff.  I hope he likes it and maybe he’ll take his red overshirt off to wash once in a while.  Only have a few minutes to wash my hair and dress for party, like that’s gonna make a difference.  
      Update:  Party was wonderful.  Everyone was so happy—even Bender, he even hugged me.  .  Everyone liked my presents.  The Professor knew how to use the slide rule.  Turns out it’s just a range of numbers scaled to their logarithms you can add or subtract—very clever.  Fry loved his presents—wouldn’t take them off despite his having to be warm.  He looks really handsome wearing them.  But it turned out I was the embarrassed one.  Fry bought me the most fabulous dress of the loveliest blue I ever saw.  It looks like it was made for me especially.  Everyone oohed and ahhed over me in it.  And he also gave me a single string of real pearls—the lightest tint of blue—and perfectly matched!  I don’t have anywhere to wear them but they look great in my closet and on my dresser.  Wow!!  Everyone wonders what I had given Fry besides the sweater for him to do that!!  There goes my reputation (?), as if!!!!  Bender was ever so sweet. He said it was the nicest thing that had ever happened to him that didn’t involve hookerbots.  He hugged me and I don’t think it was him that stole my wallet with my last $10 in it.  Amy too.  She told me she had always wanted to try that scent but thought it was too expensive.  Her hand-made shoes from Italia-estata she got for me were so very lovely.  Too bad they don’t fit but they happen to be her size so at least I have a nice birthday gift for her.  Hermes had just requisitioned the same clipboard and asked me to fill out in centuplicate form 27-A-14(4)-3008 so he could return it.  That should take about three to four hours.  He insisted I try some of the fruitcake.  I was not able to taste the next three of Elzars famous spiced oysters from my plate.  Food was too wonderful for words.  Everything was catered by Elzar—Wow (except for fruitcake).  The Professor brought a case of domperignon champagne.  More wow.  I saved the last bottle for something special in my future life.  I was bad—very bad:  I had too much of the champagne and I was so embarrassed when I found Fry in my bed this morning and worse, yes I invited him--arrrrgh.  It’s really hard to think of something clever yet discouraging to say when we’re standing across from each other naked.  Not only that I hit him and kicked him—hard.  I still think he had it coming--somehow.  Damn, I’m writing about today in yesterday’s spot.  Last word is he is wonderfully romantic but he is still Fry—Rats!  Oh, well—ten, eleven, twelve months from now I won’t even remember it.  Tune in tomorrow for more on this sicko soap opera: See: dec.25  
Countdown from Thirty-eight (non-adult version) by Timothy ……tick, tick, tick, tick:
Thirty-eight weeks (The clock starts!) less seven hours, fifteen minutes & change:  Joy to Fry, Leela & the world!
 It was Christmas and Fry looked like crap.  He was sleep-deprived, hung-over, disoriented and had been crying.  He was standing in front of the old espresso machine in the kitchen of the PE™ building multitasking:  trying to will the three extra-jumbo aspirin to work faster and trying to remember how this damn machine worked.  It was one and one-half too many things to do at the same time in his state.  "Oh rats, I can’t remember.  This thing is more complicated than my engineering station is on the old blue lady in the hanger.  C’mon, c’mon!  I just can’t think.  Hell, how many times has Leela shown me how to do this?"  That was the wrong thing to ask himself.  As soon as the name and image of Leela fleeted past his groggy brain, the tears welled up again in his eyes; he let out a long anguished moan which morphed into an impressive scream and he ran his fist through the cabinet before sinking to his knees.  "It’s not friggin’ fair…it’s not...It’s s’posed to be wonderful at this point, right now-here on out, forever:  everything I ever wanted…and it’s not."    
Through his tears and sobs, thoughts of last night came and went in his mind.  Leela oohing and then kissing him after she held up her dress and then pearls…she taking his hand and pulling—no more like dragging—him to her cabin…Leela reaching behind her and her bra dropping to the floor…he pouring her the final flute of the Christmas champagne and kissing her bare shoulder as she tipped the glass…she reaching for him…he pulling her toward him…holding her in the night, listening to her softly snore and cough now and again, touching her incredibly soft skin, smelling her wonderful scent, waking in the night and feeling her there—next to him with her arm around him; listening to her whisper out his name from the depths of dreams.  He had died, he had gone to heaven and he was sleeping with a goddess.
The Day!  The obscene sun ended the night and usurped the heavens.  It extinguished the lovely enchanting stars one by one.  It carelessly spilled light into the bedroom and illuminated a mass of purple hair sprawled over Fry’s shoulder.   Fry opened his eyes and smiled at the cascading purple and her lovely faced with her eye closed with sleep; he felt Leela stir.  He lifted his head, shifted and kissed Leela’s cheek and started to say good morning but before the first word made it out, her fist caught him on the side of the head.  "My god that hurt-I don’t think I’ve ever been hit harder-My head just exploded", he thought as she threw him out of her bed.  
His ears were ringing so loud, her screaming was garbled but it was getting painfully through:   "What the hell are you doing in my bedroom—my bed?!  How dare you sneak in here, strip and rape me while I was passed out?  Did you drug me!?  I never sleep like that"Her foot lashed out and caught him in the ribs as he knelt with his arms over his head.  One more kick turned it into a fetal position as he lay there sobbing, gasping.  What kind of sicko pervert are you, Fry?  God damn you, this is a hell of a Christmas present to wake up to.
His face was inches from his underwear, her blue bra rested on top of it.  It was all he could see through his tears.
Get the hell out of here.  If I ever see you within three hundred yards of me, I guarantee you’ll never rape anyone else ever again, let alone do it with some prostitute or willing bimbo.  You understand that, pervert?
Don’t you ever speak to me again, you creep.  Get the hell out of here.
Leela, please wait one minute.  Please.  Look at your bra on top of my underpants.
So what, sicko?  That excite you?  Think you want to have another go with me?   Come here, then.
Don’t you remember, Leela?  I got undressed before you did; you brought me in here last night; you dragged me in here; you unbuttoned my shirt; you undid my belt; pulled my pants off and stripped my underwear off: you undressed me Leela, remember?    You pushed me onto the bed.  You unsnapped your bra here, Leela; this is where it fell.  You were so beautiful; I wanted you so very much; I was more than willing but if I hadn’t been…I don’t know what scenario that could have occurred in but if that had happened, I think you would have raped me.  Don’t you remember, Leela?  
She just stood there.  Naked: so terribly beautiful as her features softened: approachable as she went out of her fighting stance.  Her mouth opened.  Hey eye closed and her hands made their own way to cover her open mouth.  Oh my god.
Leela sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the sheets tightly around her.  She didn’t say a word; she didn’t move a millimeter; she just sat there for a long time.
Fry slowly sat up—it hurt to move, a lot and he winced as he gathered his clothes.  He got dressed and knelt in front of the still sitting Cyclops.  Leela, Listen.  I can understand what you must have thought and why you reacted that way.  But I know how you feel about me—you showed me last night.  You made me so very…
Fry!……Fry, I am truly sorry I hit you, truly.  Actually, I don’t think you’ll ever be able to understand why I lashed out but right now.  She finally looked at him.  But I have to tell you something.  I know what you are saying, what you are going to say.  But the thing is, nothing has changed.  I got drunk last night.  That was my fault and I acted like I do not feel.  And that's the first thing.  But the thing is, I do not love you.  I do not want to give myself to a man whom I do not love.  I don’t want to be with you.  I know that hurts but it’s the truth.  I’m sorry, but I think you should go.  
Fry, last night didn’t happen.  I was drunk and whatever you think happened, didn’t.  Please go.  Now  
Fry said nothing as the tears ran down his face. He walked out of the room and Leela just sat there.  She tried to remember.  Part of her felt that Fry was lying.  He had to have been; she had not come onto him.  The door closed quietly but she didn’t notice; it was all coming back to her.  There was laughter and the food was so wonderful.  Everyone was beyond happy; beyond loving: singing, talking, toasts, and joy.   Everyone loved her presents, especially Fry, of course.  But my god, his gift to her was out of this world.  She could not believe how special it was: the dress was beautiful and was a beautiful deep blue and with a single strand of perfectly matched blue pearls—he must have gotten them on Carillion and would have cost him more than a year’s salary.  Of course she kissed him.  And the next thing she knew, they were the only ones left.  The candles burned down and the only real light came from the Christmas tree and Fry and Leela were dancing to some old jazz ballad, Fry had just finished what she had guessed to be his eighth glass of champagne—one flute less than her.  She knew she had drunk way too much but all she felt was good…and excited—it had to be the damn champagne.   She was talking to Fry, her hand was on top of his new sweater—her gift to him—on his shoulder and they were laughing.  And the next thing she knew was that her hand was under his sweater, her fingers were probing down into his underwear and she was kissing him…kissing him hard.  She suddenly grabbed his hand and dragged him onto the ship’s gangway and onto the ship and into her cabin stopping to kiss and grope on the stairs, flight deck, and at her cabin door in the hall.
Leela gathered her clothes off of the floor and stepped into the shower.  Oh lord, he’s right.  I did drag him in here last night and we did make love.  Love?  No way.  That was just plain sex.  But he was, er, rather, it…was amazing last night.  He is such a nice guy but…he is still Fry.  It doesn’t matter if he is sweet; it doesn’t matter how he can make me feel; it doesn’t matter whether he loves me.  He is still Fry.  God damn it.  Leela was leaning against the shower wall.  Oh, lord.  What am I going to do about Fry?  She lifted her head so that the water hit her forehead in such a way that the hot water rushed over her ears creating a roar.  She was within herself; there was no one else in the world and the hot water continued to run over her.  She was alone; she was safe.
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #1 on: 05-31-2010 17:46 »
« Last Edit on: 05-31-2010 17:56 »

Leela sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the sheets tightly around her.  She didn’t say a word; she didn’t move a millimeter; she just sat there for a long time.
Fry slowly sat up—it hurt to move, a lot and he winced as he gathered his clothes.  He got dressed and knelt in front of the still sitting Cyclops.  Leela, Listen.  I can understand what you must have thought and why you reacted that way.  But I know how you feel about me—you showed me last night.  You made me so very…
Fry!……Fry, I am truly sorry I hit you, truly.  That’s the second thing I am very disappointed in and angry with myself right now.  Actually, I don’t think you’ll ever be able to understand why I lashed out right now.  She finally looked at him.  But I have to tell you something.  I know what you are saying, what you are going to say.  But the thing is, nothing has changed.  I got drunk last night.  That was my fault and I acted like I do not feel--that's the first.  But the thing is, I do not love you.  I do not want to give myself to a man whom I do not love.  I don’t want to be with you.  I know that hurts but it’s the truth.  I’m sorry, but I think you should go.  
Fry, last night didn’t happen.  I was drunk and whatever you think happened, didn’t.  Please go.  Now  
Fry said nothing as the tears ran down his face. He walked out of the room and Leela just sat there.  She tried to remember.  Part of her felt that Fry was lying.  He had to have been; she had not come onto him.  The door closed quietly but she didn’t notice; it was all coming back to her.  There was laughter and the food was so wonderful.  Everyone was beyond happy; beyond loving: singing, talking, toasts, and joy.   Everyone loved her presents, especially Fry, of course.  But my god, his gift to her was out of this world.  She could not believe how special it was: the dress was beautiful and was a beautiful deep blue and with a single strand of perfectly matched blue pearls—he must have gotten them on Carillion and would have cost him more than a year’s salary.  Of course she kissed him.  And the next thing she knew, they were the only ones left.  The candles burned down and the only real light came from the Christmas tree and Fry and Leela were dancing to some old jazz ballad, Fry had just finished what she had guessed to be his eighth glass of champagne—one flute less than her.  She knew she had drunk way too much but all she felt was good…and excited—it had to be the damn champagne.   She was talking to Fry, her hand was on top of his new sweater—her gift to him—on his shoulder and they were laughing.  And the next thing she knew was that her hand was under his sweater, her fingers were probing down into his underwear and she was kissing him…kissing him hard.  She suddenly stood and grabbed his hand and dragged him onto the ship’s gangway and onto the ship and into her cabin stopping to kiss and grope on the stairs, flight deck, and at her cabin door in the hall.
Leela gathered her clothes off of the floor and stepped into the shower.  Oh lord, he’s right.  I did drag him in here last night and we did make love.  Love?  No way.  That was just plain sex.  But he was, er, rather, it…was amazing last night.  He is such a nice guy but…he is still Fry.  It doesn’t matter if he is sweet; it doesn’t matter how he can make me feel; it doesn’t matter whether he loves me.  He is still Fry.  God damn it.  Leela was leaning against the shower wall.  Oh, lord.  What am I going to do about Fry?  She lifted her head so that the water hit her forehead in such a way that the hot water rushed over her ears creating a roar.  She was within herself; there was no one else in the world and the hot water continued to run over her.  She was alone; she was safe.
**37.16.07;….tick, tick, tick, tick**
Thirty seven weeks, six days, sixteen point seven hours
Hair of the dog, er, rather, Seymour
As soon as Fry, holding his one shoe, opened Leela’s cabin door, he saw her boots and his missing Chuck Taylor still in the hall.  He kicked the boots into her cabin and gently closed the cabin door closed making a little click.  The same little click as Leela had made when she pulled the door shut while her other hand on the back of the Fry’s neck continued to pull him even closer as she continued to kiss him.  They were still kissing as they—collectively— pulled her pants off inch by inch and then panties.  Fry, standing in the hallway, sighed.  As many times as I fantasized about making love to her, not once did I ever get close to last night.  I just wish As soon as Fry, holding his one shoe, opened Leela’s cabin door, he saw her boots and his missing Chuck Leela remembered it as a tiny bit nice.  Even a deaf mute can tell she’s upset and is trying to make it go away.  
Fry kicked his shoe down the gangplank and all the way into the kitchen.  His head screamed inside that it wanted aspirin and it wanted coffee—both strong and lots of it--NOW.  He opened the large brown glass jar on the counter labeled: [ASA]  acetylsalicylate usp/  850mg/ C9H8O4/ dose: one (1) pill, orally every six hours and grabbed three and chewed them up.  Fry was old-school: if it hurt bad then the medicine should taste bad.  He then proceeded to stare at the espresso maker before making the fatal thought about Leela.  
It was probably his addiction to caffeine that brought him out of his new fetal position rather than his running out of tears.  While on the floor, he put his shoe on and then slowly rose.  He looked at the splintered hole and then his raw bruised hand.  He gave up on trying to make sense out the espresso machine and punched in a half dozen numbers and made sure it had water.  He continued to stand and wait with his eyes closed as the pressure slowly built up.  His first inclination was to think about last night before he realized that probably was not a good idea.  And at some point he opened his eyes and noted that the espressos were done with their lovely cremas and were just sitting there.  He hadn’t heard a thing; he didn’t remember a single thought.  He steamed cream for Leela and put healthy shots of Rémy Martin Vsop NV cognac in both of them; if that doesn’t make me feel better, nothing will.  He was cleaning and polishing the espresso machine when Leela walked into the galley.
Leela, listen,…
Fry, let’s not talk about it.  It didn’t happen.  It was one of your dreams.
A Wonderful dream!!  Fry made a face but handed her the cup.  Here, have a hair of Seymour.
Yeah, well pigs are still not….What?  And she took a sip.  After a moment she said, the phrase is a hair of the dog.  A hair of Seymour doesn’t make any sense.
Seymour was a dog….my dog.  Leela, don’t you have any dreams you keep wishing for.
None that include you.  I know Seymour was a dog but…
Maybe this is another thing we shouldn’t talk about.  It never happened.
Sigh…Fry… never mind.
Suddenly Leela smiled.  Thank you, Fry.  This cappuccino is lovely; especially with the brandy.  And you’re right, Seymour was a dog—your dog--and since you know that I know that, it makes perfect sense.  Fry, what on earth did you to your hand?  It was then she noticed the hole in the cabinet.  So, did that do any good?
Not much. Fry smiled.  Speaking of aesthetics, you think we might describe something as really beautiful when
We’re not talking about it Period.  
Ok, I’m not in your dreams but you do have them.  Even though they’re unlikely, you’re still wishing for them
Bender and Amy walked in and Fry waved.  Hey Bender, hi ya Amy.  It’s Christmas Day, a holiday.  You know what that means?  Double-time.  Merry Christmas everyone.
Leela snorted.  Another one of your dreams, Fry.  Ain’t gonna happen!   And she flapped her arms.
Yeah, god bless us, everyone.  Hey meat bag. You didn’t come home last night.  Where were you, huh?
Amy lit right up, Leela!  Did you and Fry get tog…
Leela frowned and shook her head.
That did not stop the robot.  Hah, so Big Boots, I guess you’re no longer a virgin, huh?  Hah, hah, hah.
Sipping her cup, her foot lashed out at Bender’s knee.
He teetered but did not fall.  God damn it, what was that for?
Leela walked out of the room still sipping her cappuccino.   Fry sighed and said, We’re not talking about it and I guess that includes you as well.  He put his coffee on the table and put his arm round Bender and spoke very quietly,  She drank too much, er…we drank too much, and one thing led to another and next thing I know I’m in bed with her.  It’s not something she wanted to do, it just happened.  Now she’s mad at herself and I guess at me for being there.  It was wonderful, it was much better than I could ever imagine…and it never happened.
Yeah, yeah…that sounds like Big Boots alright.  But what was it like?  You waited a long, long time for it. C’mon, give.  We need details.  Was it worth the wait?  Are you in loooooove?  Did you swoon?
Well at the time it was heaven but when I woke up it switched to hell.  Look at the side of my face.
Uh oh, you’re gonna really feel that it in a little bit.  You should put some of my Mom’s Robobalm© on it.  Hey, look at that hand.  Whadja do, hit her back?   Right cross?
Fry, Bender!  I hear you two whispering in there.  Shut the mouth holes, both of you.
Hey, Big Boots, lay off.  We’re just talking about the Christmas Eve Knicks game last night.
Yeah, right!
Fry and Bender looked at each other and then Bender started laughing and after a moment Fry joined in.  Laughing could so damned therapeutic but it made it hard to feel sorry for yourself.
**37.06.16;….tick, tick, tick, tick**  Thirty seven weeks, six days, sixteen hours:  One month—maybe two
Once everyone arrived at Planet Express™, they all took their spots at the conference table. Leela kept her eyes focused on something a million light-years away.  Fry tried not to look but he kept being drawn back.  He finally picked up a pen from the table and scribbled on one of the note pads:  Leela, you’re my best friend.  Please don’t let my actions last night destroy that.  Can we still be friends?  Please?  He carefully folded the note into a paper air plane and launched it.  
It hit her in the forehead and she looked around a bit before she realized what had happened. Fry couldn’t tell how many times she had read it but finally she closed her eye and nodded.
Fry scribbled off another note.  Thank you and I’ll try not to pout, okay?  And I won’t throw in any comparative or superlative adjectives to describe the non-happening or even a thank you.  Just friends?  Ok?
This time the message was snagged out of the air.  She looked at it a minute and then carefully mouthed, Okay.
Fry nodded and smiled.  He was actually happy…for a minute.  And then remembered, it, it had been so special for him.  Why couldn’t feel just a tiny bit of that?  Why couldn’t she care just a tiny bit for me?  Well, face it: I don’t have a great body and no one will ever call me a pretty boy or handsome or rugged and I’m not that smart—at least I don’t act smart.  She really liked it when I gave her my present last night.  I need to be nicer to her.  Not necessarily buy her gifts, but do little things for her.  Make it easier.  If she didn’t have to yell at me to do the work that she needs done, that would help.  I can do a lot of stuff like that.  Like the coffee this morning, she actually smiled at me.  Maybe I could just convince Leela that I’m not just a goof ball—looking for a laugh or the easy way out.  Be considerate; be nice:  I’m going to spend the next month—the next two months—everyday with her and I’ll do something nice, before it’s asked, for her.  And if it’s work, I’ll do an especially thorough job.  I’ll look for things that need work, attention or that she would like—like the coffee this morning or the dress from last night.  It hit him.  That’s why she slept with me: the dress and the pearls.  She was just paying me back.  Giving me something she knew I wanted but didn’t mean that much to her……oh!
Bad news everyone.  Terrible!  You get double-time for coming in on Christmas day—well, for a half-day only so it’s not all that bad.  Fry’s face lit up and he high-fived Amy.  He tried to catch Leela’s eye.  (He kept flapping his arms.)  Leela’s eye however remained down and it looked like she might start crying any minute.  I thought you all might approve, you see, I do care about you all…like a family, sniff, sniff.  Enough of that, damn it.  Leela and I shall be going to the Benz-Volksrocket Engineering complex on Parsic today.  (Leela finally looked up, surprised and alive for the first time all morning.)  I’ve been reading a year’s worth of suggestion submissions and ignoring the ones written in binary, damn it, he glared briefly at Bender and then scanned the rest of our faces looking for a guilty grin, and it’s pretty obvious the PE™ ship needs an overhaul and an updated warp converter.  You’re wishes are granted.  And it’s a good tax write-off against the last two record quarterly profits.  We’ll be gone a month or two, maybe more.  By the way, does anyone in here speak binary besides Bender and I?  C’mon, admit it; it’s not like it won’t be used against you.
Fry’s face fell.  He opened his mouth but Amy spoke first.  Professor, what about me?  I’m your engineering intern.  I would be of some use and I could learn something practical on Parsic.
Well, I was thinking of asking Fry if he wanted the remaining spot but you’re right.  You would be more useful.  By the way, do you speak binary?
Uh, no.  
Well, no mat…
Fry interrupted, I wouldn’t take up that much room.  I could…
No, damn it, it’s already decided.  Besides, I’m loading the ship with four deliveries for the Parsic System which incidentally will more than pay for the refit; there is absolutely no room.  You’re not sleeping with me, indeed not.  I can tell what you’re after.  Maybe you can talk Leela or Amy in sharing their bunks but not mine.  How about you, do you…?
Amy’s face brightened and she said, Well…  
Leela cut Amy off.  She always would wonder what Amy had been going to say but she had a really good idea and did not want Fry sleeping with Amy although she did not ask herself why.  You’re not sharing our bunks either.  Besides, I took the cooling unit out last week and it needs at the very least an adjustment.  We’ve been lucky we haven’t needed it.  You can work on that while we’re gone; consider that a direct order from your captain.
One or two giggled with the thought of Fry actually working on the cooling system.  Someone came up with,   Maybe Bender could help you, Fry.  There was open laughing.
Not me baby.  I’ve got a twisty-trysty on Balboa with a couple of hookerbots, a blackjack game, and a case of Johnny Walker……Black©.
One month, maybe two!!  It’s like someone heard.  Fry sat on the couch in the empty building for a long time holding his head in his hands which by now was throbbing worse than ever.  Hmmm, according to Gordianus the Finder, hangovers can be cured by thinking.  Those damn Greeks knew a thing or two.   Maybe I should start thinking about the Zicron™ 3m unit.  And hay!  If one dream can come true; why can’t another or all of them?

Urban Legend
« Reply #2 on: 06-01-2010 00:45 »

Waaaaaaay too many instances of the word "love" for me to even bother to read it.

If you want people to care, stop being cliche. We've had e-fucking-nough of pissy ass relationship stories.
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #3 on: 06-01-2010 00:57 »

When I proof-read it,  I did note the use of the word 'love' in the story.  My first thought was I am going to get a note from ffreak pointing that out.  If you ask of any of my wives--ex or otherwise--as well as old girl friends, I believe a catholic comment would be: hopeless romantic.  You might take a take a couple of days off, drink a couple of cheap domestic beers and then try it again; there is some decent stuff in there--somewhere.  Thank you for commenting.

Urban Legend
« Reply #4 on: 06-01-2010 01:19 »

Speech marks - then I'll try again. I can't split the spoken text from the rest of it without punctuation, so I can't really say anything more about it.

Urban Legend
« Reply #5 on: 06-01-2010 01:23 »

Decent other stuff?

Every single paragraph were attempts at at some kind of pathetic soppy emotion.
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #6 on: 06-01-2010 01:32 »

You're right, Megan, that does make it difficult.  The story was origninally written with conversation in italics which was lost on downloading.

Urban Legend
« Reply #7 on: 06-01-2010 01:34 »

And apparently so was any kind of redeeming quality of it.

Urban Legend
« Reply #8 on: 06-01-2010 02:01 »

Megan? Who is this Megan? O_O

I'm not her, that's for sure -but I can see why you'd think that... and yeah, try to fix it a little and I'll read it and offer more critique.
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #9 on: 06-01-2010 05:27 »

Sorry, I have no idea where Megan came from.  Flashback moment in a fried brain.  I'll see what it looks like to modify the story in the edit mode.  Thank you.
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #10 on: 06-01-2010 05:29 »

F-Freak, thanks for the honest opinion.  If I get a lot of that, I'll think about changing my sappy ways but I'll probably end up dying a hopeless romantic.
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #11 on: 06-01-2010 18:48 »

      “Leela, do you want me to take the controls, you look beat.  Long, hard night?”
      “Really?  I wouldn’t have thought so; that’s not how I found it, er…rather, so, he didn’t exactly rock your boat, huh?”
      “No, he was wonderful; that part was fantastic; I never felt so excited, so lovely…so satisfied…sigh.”
      “Oh!  Well, what went wrong?”
      “He’s still Fry.  He was still there in the morning.  He’s more in love with me than ever and is ready to jump off buildings and fly.  It was only a matter of hours, maybe minutes, before he proposed--again.”
      “Is it so horrible he loves you?”
      “It’s not that.  That part is flattering.  That part is sweet.  Fry is just…. Well, he’s kinda….   He’s just Fry.”
      “You mean he’s immature.  He wants more than you want to give.  He’s nice but he doesn’t turn you on.  He tries too hard when he does try and when he doesn’t, you’d wish he’d try.”
      “Amy, if I could articulate that well, I’d say you were stealing my words: yes, exactly.  And then I hurt him and then I want to cuddle him and it starts all over again like some big uncomfortable surprise.”
      Amy looked at her a minute and then shrewdly asked, “And despite all that, you love him, don’t you?” 
      Leela looked surprised but answered without pondering the question.  “I assume you want the truth.  Here it is: Yes…no…maybe…never…always…sometimes.  I loved him the first day I met him.  He was difficult and uncooperative and put his feelings of himself first.  He was ungodly sensitive, trusting and friendly.  He was vulnerable and had been hurt.  He wasn’t intelligent but he was smart and street smart, he wasn’t mean and he was incredibly open.  You could tell he would be a friend no matter what.  And I had to track him down all over old New-New York to put in a god damned career chip he didn’t want and which I didn’t want to put in.  And being with him a while, I put my hand on top of his and just before Bender threw his hand in there and wiped out the feeling, I knew I loved him and that we were meant for each other.  And although that feeling sometimes disappears, like when Bender put his hand on top of mine, it always comes back.  But usually it’s Fry, not Bender or someone else that chases it away.  He can be so god-damned childish but can he be serious?  He would be great at making a baby but can he take care of it?  He would be a great husband—fun to be with and who loves me and who would be faithful and was always there but what I really want is a father for my children—not another child.”
      “You know he would do a complete turnaround.  You could get him to do anything—like a trained seal.”
      “You mean throwing him Slurms™ instead of mackerel.  No, thanks: I don’t want a seal, except maybe Special Forces.  He’d think he wanted to change and he might try for a while.  But it wouldn’t be permanent.  The truth is he’s lazy.  At PE™ for instance, Fry does as little as work as possible.  If it’s more than that, then it’s because it’s a result of a threat and probably with the addition of being yelled at and under direct supervision.  When did he ever volunteer for extra work; when did he ever look for something that needed to be done?”
      “He volunteered to come on this trip.”
      “Amy Wong!  You know damn well he did that so he could moon around me and/or try like hell to get back in my bed.  He wasn’t planning on doing any work.”
      “But would you give him a chance if he did change?  I think he would; I know he would.”
      “You mean like if he actually works on the cooling unit while we’re gone like I asked him to?  That’s going to sit there untouched until we’re back.  Okay, it’s a big complicated job, but he could at least try.  If he really tried, I’d say a chance was in order.  Hell, if he manages to get it fixed and running the way it is supposed to, I’ll take him to bed with me.  If he really fixes it and looks for some other work to do; I’ll let him move in with me until he screws up again.  But, you cannot tell him or get the information to him as to what is riding on his behavior.  And excuses—real, imagined, or outright lies don’t matter anymore.”
      “I wouldn’t do that to win a bet.  But what are the stakes between us?  What do I have to put up if I’m wrong?” 
      “Hmmm.  You know, I think I saw a bottle of the Professor’s fabulous chistmas-champagne in your bag when you left.  You make me dinner and we’ll have the champagne to celebrate my win and afterwards, you can give me a back massage and wash my hair.  What do you want?”
      “Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.  That’s funny.  Tell me if I’m wrong but after I put that bottle in my bag, there were two bottles left.  From your story, I think you and Fry finished one; you should still have one bottle.  Your suggestion is a good one.  You can fix me dinner, we’ll share your bottle, and the back rub and shampoo sound lovely.  It’s a bet.”
**34.00.00;….tick, tick, tick ,tick**  Thirty-four weeks:  The over-haul:  Progress on Parsic
      Amy and Leela had met with Benz-VR™ engineers every day.  They would then put in four to ten hours working with the technicians on the PE™ ship overhaul that had started on day one and continued almost seven straight weeks.  In that time, the new Benz™ sixth generation engines were designed and built and tested and retested and were being installed tomorrow.  Completion of all work and the shakedown cruise were scheduled in ten days.  It would be almost two months to the day from their departure that they would re-enter earth’s atmosphere.  The Professor’s contribution to the project was to sleep and to sign checks and signoff progress reports which Leela or Amy would hand him after waking him up on the beach.   The conversation, regardless of it being Leela or Amy, would never vary except for the time and the meal being lunch or dinner:
      “Wha?  Where am I?  What time is it?  Is it time for lunch yet?”
      “We’re still on Parsik, Professor.  You’ve been napping at Pandora Beach.  It’s ten fifty hours and I’ve instructed them to bring you a light lunch and a margarita at twelve hundred hours.”
      “Who authorized this work?”
      “You did, Professor.  Two days ago.  You initialed on the first page in the heading.”
      “These engineers think up this stuff to jack the price up and then they jump out at you and ask you out of the blue if you want this done in a way that suggests well, of course you do.  Well it’s extravagant and the fee is outrageous.  Highway robbery.  Highway robbery, I say.  I refuse to pay it.”
      “It was part of your RFP and RFQ and it’s under budget, as well sir.  And this is totally tax deductible.”
“Wha?  I see.  Where do I sign again?  Oh, and make it a double margarita.”
“I shall, Professor.  And that’s deductible as well.”
**32.00.00;….tick, tick, tick, tick**  Thirty-two weeks:  Four test strips--all positive: Panic on Parsic
      Amy and Leela had finished well after midnight and they were grateful once again to have a company limo and driver available at times like this to take them back to their hotel. They instructed their chauffeur to stop at the best pizzeria in the city so they could take back dinner to their room. 
An hour later Leela suddenly felt sick and just barely made it to the bathroom in time.  Amy could hear her throwing up over the sound of her movie.  She walked over to the door, gently rapped on it and walked slowly in.  “Too much pizza?”  She put ice in a glass and filled it with water then ran warm water onto a wash cloth and then knelt beside Leela.   She wiped her forehead and then handed her the glass of water.  “Can I get you anything else?”
      “This is really nice of you.  No thank you, Amy.  Oh, wait.  Do you think there’s a pharmacy open this time of night?” 
      “I have aspirin if that’s what you want but surely there is, probably have to be several all-nighters.  They’d deliver whatever you wanted to the hotel.”
      “I wish it was aspirin.  Could you call and ask them to drop off a couple of pregnancy test-kits?”
      “In case I don’t like the first result.    Better order three.“
      “I’ll order four and start praying you only need one.  Oh, sweetheart!  You must be scared to death.  Still on her knees, she hugged Leela hard.  Everything is going to be okay.  No matter what happens:  positive, negative or who knows, it’s gonna be all right.”

Urban Legend
« Reply #12 on: 06-02-2010 02:05 »

What the hell am I reading? Where are the jokes?
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #13 on: 06-03-2010 00:31 »

Ok, joke intermission along with the popcorn.  It turns out the PE ship having taken an unstable worm hole lands in 18Cce France during the reign of terror.  Four intrepid crewmen: Leela, Fry, El Freako & timmothy walk through the paris rues looking for cheap champagne which can be used--amonth other thans--as a replacement for dark matter.  El Freako offends a  petit bourgeoisie wine merchant by offering too little for a nice little 1748 vintage and reports our heros to the revolutionary guard.  Based on his testimony alone, the four are sentenced to the guillotine tomorrow morning at sunrise.  Come manana, a tumbrel makes it way up from the Bastille through last night’s puddles to the little guillotine surrounded by the usual Le Tricoteuse.  Inside the little cart three stand with their hands tied behind backs standing in little pools of urine.  The fourth, Leela, is merely pissed that her contract has three more weeks to run and her voice turned down a lucrative little engagement because of it only a week ago.  Leela is the first taken to the instrument of death and hooded.  The blade comes swishing down and stops 2mm from her lovely purple hair on the nape of her neck.  Le Tricoteuse stop knitting to a woman and exclaim, it’s a sign of God; let her go.  Leela yells wahoo and heads over to a little café with outside seating for a café au lait and to enjoy the rest of the live entertainment.  Fry is escorted next to Dr. Guillotine’s little machine.  He is hooded; the blade comes down lickity split and stops 1.5mm from Fry’s red hair  on his nape.  Le Tricoteuse stop knitting to a woman and exclaim, it’s a sign of God; let him go and Fry joins Leela in the peanut gallery sipping an absinthe.  El Freako is number three; the blade comes down so fast it is a blur and again it stops 1mm away from the black hair of El Freako’s neck.  The Le Tricoteuse are getting a little restless, they want to see some action but again they say, God’s will and El Freako joins his friends at the café with a nice glass of merlot.  Our last crew member, timmothy is dragged over to le guillotine and he looks at and feels the wood.  ‘You know, you guys shouldn’t leave this out in the rain; it’s swollen.  But if you spray a little 10w40 here and here, it should work pretty good.    2minutes to the re-start of the feature; buy your popcorn now and get to your seat.
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #14 on: 06-03-2010 00:34 »

 **37.06.17**;….tick,tick,tick,tick--a little earlier--  Thirty seven weeks, six days, sixteen hours:  How hard could it be?
      Fry continued to inspect the little and big units of the old Zicron™ system.  “2884.04.23?  Oh, crap.  Is that a date?  This thing is an antique—over a hundred years old.  No wonder it doesn’t work right.  Maybe it’s just a serial number.  Oh wait, here’s another: 2884.11.11.  Damn, they’re all 2884s followed by a two digit number smaller than twelve and then 31:  they gotta be manufacturing dates.  Still, there should be schematics available from somewhere, somebody.”

      ‘You’d think, damn it.’ Fry grumbled to himself after three hours of searching on the professor’s computer.  ‘Maybe it’s on the ship’s mainframe….which is… on its way to Parsik.  I could…no I couldn’t.  The ship’s computer is locked out when it’s in flight.’

      ‘Well, how difficult can it be?  Let’s just open the big one and take a look-see….Oh my god!!  And look at all the %!!#%% feedbacks.  This is not good.  And it had to be all nano-circuitry!  I wonder what generation?  This is going to take a Slurm™ or two….or three.’

      Three weeks later, Fry was still at the table in the professor’s lab, only now it was now in the clean-room with four tables in front of him, two on each side and two behind him.  He sat on a low stool with the all-important casters on it surrounded by all the Zircons™ meticulously taken apart and spread out over seven tables.  The eighth table held a portable vacuum unit with stacks of empty pizza boxes, Macadonalds™ bags of napkins and wrappers and empty cases of Slurm™ lager, dark ale, and ip in it.  There were three oscilloscopes which he had to teach himself to use, hooked up in parallel, two small digital microscope, four heat sensors, two heat generators, twenty-four volt/amp meters that were all hooked up to the same computer the size of a main frame and its two huge 1/2/3-d monitors with dozens of user manuals, a CRC 1078, a keyboard and monitor to the lab mainframe and notepads, calculators, pens, solderer, two cold solderers, three micro-solderers, a score of alligator clips and a mess of forceps.  Fortunately he calibrated everything so he was able to work at a comfortable 20ₒc.  He had slept either on the stool hunched over the tables or spread out on blankets under the largest one.  The unit had actually functioned twice albeit for only a couple of minutes before it blew the delicate circuit breakers he had jerry-rigged just to be on the safe side.  If it could work twice for two minutes, it could be calibrated to work period; it was just a matter of adjustment.  Or was it?  He passed out again with that thought and his head slid down to the table work surface.  He would wake up six hours later with an alligator clip embedded in the left cheek.  It would leave a cool imprint for several hours.

      ‘Or was it?’ was the breakthrough he had been searching for.  Maybe he had actually fixed it twice back to its original condition on the earlier occasions.  Maybe it was incorrectly manufactured and that under the normal circuits, it would partially work, shutdown, re-set itself and then start all over again.  All he needed was to double check the settings on which it had partially run.  He bet they were going to be identical outputs even though the calibrations were different.

**31.00.00*……tick,tick,tick,tick**  Thirty-one weeks:  Dreams

      The first time was the evening Leela and Amy proposed his getting back in bed with Leela and then moving in with her; Fry had a vivid wet dream of making love with Leela.  His head jerked up from the table and he looked all around wondering where in the hell he was.  He walked into the wind-driven rain on this cold night back to his apartment to talk Bender into walking over to Leela’s apartment with him and picking her lock.  Bender was enthusiastic until he realized Fry wasn’t planning to steal anything or even case her place; he wouldn’t even let the robot into the apartment.  It was damn sad.  Bender again asked him for the third time to take off with him for a month of debauchery on Balboa in the morning. The robot sadly shook his molybdenum-tungsten steel alloy head at the response.  “Just stay here and mope, who gives a rip?  Oh, and Fry, bite my shiny metal ass!” 
      Fry watched the elevator door closing and shutting off the sight of Bender humming to himself as he selected down on the menu; the words ‘…shiny metal ass’ replayed a second time.  He thought for a moment before closing the door, ‘Maybe I should take off with him.  It would have to be less pathetic and more fun than standing here in the dark and the %#^$$ cooling unit tomorrow.’  It was more than the dark, he felt funny being alone in her apartment—not that he didn’t feel funny when she was with him there.  This was more like a church at night and he looked reverentially around.  He kept thinking that she was going to burst through that door any second from now and see him standing there—caught red-handed.  His heart leapt to his throat when he heard voices approaching the door but the footsteps and the conversation went past him and down the hall.  Trying to remember the approximate number of steps and direction from the door, he tiptoed carefully to her bedroom door.  Still in the dark, he stripped and got in between the sheets that still smelled of her and tried to remember every word she had ever said to him that was even remotely nice and fell asleep surrounded by her scent. 
      He slept there that night but upon waking he remembered no further dreams although he lay in the middle of another wet spot in the sheet.  He felt guilty; he felt like a creep—a groggy creep.  He carefully made the bed and fluffed and kissed her pillow.  He opened her clothes drawers and immediately caught the scent of violet from a sachet.  His mom had had lavender in their back yard and could remember crawling stealthily through it imagining it was sagebrush and he was creeping up on Blue Duck, his multi-purpose bad guy when he was eight years old.  He reached in and held up a lacy lavender bra to his cheek and nose and kissed each cup before putting it back. 
      He thought about leaving a note then shuddered.  Before Fry could leave, the phone rang; he jumped.  He just stood there with his heart racing listening to the uncommonly loud ring wondering if he should answer.  Maybe it was an emergency…but as he reached for the phone a gross closeup of lips and very white teeth cum sharpened canines came on the screen—grainy: the guy had a cheap mabell™ phoneset.  The mouth retreated to reveal a closeup of bloodshot-dialated eyes with the new greased down hair style in a black leather jacket cum-white-t-shirt.  Fry knew there would be a plastabox of Grassland Joints© rolled up in this guy’s shirt sleeve and skin-tight jeans he could not see. Almost a twin to a greaser who beat him up weekly and took his lunch money four out the five school days.  His slurred voice made an unbelievable and stupid pitch:  Hey, Leelita, it’s Jimmy.  It’s your lucky weekend: I’m in town and I want to see you.  Can I pick you up tonight?  Give me a call: 2 47 212 428 6416.  Don’t break my heart.  You were really hot the last time I saw you; I think we should pick up from there.   

      Leelita!!!!:  My god!; Lucky weekend!:  Man!; Don’t break my heart!:  Give me a break!  Fry stuck his finger on the erase circle and the blinking red light stopped.  Oh man, now this!!!  I am a creep!  He walked out and closed the door making sure it was locked and promised himself he would never, ever do this again.  The words ‘really hot’ followed him down the stairs and onto the street depressing the crap out of him.


      The second and last dream was when Leela saw the test-strip: two distinct lines, one pink and the dark control: definitely positive.  He woke up elated and with an erection but did not know why.  All he knew was that he was definitely in love with Leela.  He walked out of the clean-room and took off his bunny-suit and quickly left the building.  Standing outside, the first time in almost two months in daytime: the sun blinded his eyes, the breeze felt strange but wonderful against his skin and he strolled down to IHOPe™ staring at every tree, flower and weed.  While standing in the gift shop waiting for a table, he picked a paperback off the revolving rack and paid for it. 
      Fry was seated by a perky kid named Suzy in a sunny booth; there were genuine plastic daisies on the table next to the salt, pepper, syrups and jellies.  He thought about all the times he had sat in a similar booth—only the syrup flavors, the extra ‘e’ and the prices were different—on early mornings with the munchies over a thousand years ago and smiled.  He ordered four eggs w/ white toast--easy over, a dozen Belgium-Netherlands waffles with strawberries and sour cream, hash browns with extra onions plus Tabasco™, a dozen sausage links and hot mustard (he laughed and snorted his coffee through his nose when he thought of Bender—sausage links!!!--and hoped he was having fun on Balboa—how could it be otherwise?— and the bottomless urn of coffee he had already started on.

      “Hungry Huh?”

      “Yeah, but mainly just tired of seven weeks of pizza and macadonalds™ for breakfast!”

       Suzy raised her eye brows.  “Wow, that beats me by a month!  That’s gotta be a record.  Your coffee is going to be on the house.  You’re really cute, you know that?  You want to come over to my place tonight, after I get off?”

      “Umm, Thanks but I’m in the middle of a project.  This is kind of a break before I start up again.”

      “I think you deserve another break after you do all that work.  You could stay the night if you want?  And if you’re still hungry, I’ll feed you.  And I already know what you like for breakfast.”

      “Suzy, that’s really sweet of you.  And pretty as you are, it’s really hard to say no.”

      “You’ve got a steady girl friend, don’t you?”


      “She’s really lucky.  To have someone as good looking as you and be nice and faithful too.  If she ever decides she wants somebody else, I usually work this shift and I would love to see you, ok?”


      “Forget about the coffee.  Your whole breakfast is on the house, compliments of IHOPe™”. 

      “Thank you, Suzie.”

      “I’ll be back with you waffles with extra whip cream.  Don’t forget, think about it.”

      ‘You’re a dumb shit, Fry.  Faithful—right!  Faithful and waiting…and waiting.  Leela’s never going to love you.  Even if you fix this stupid cooling thing which I doubt you’ve got the brains to figure out, it’s not going to make any difference.  Big deal, she gave you a mercy job, the very same thing she gave Zap.  He wants one more; you want one more; what’s the big’ difference?  To her, you’re both losers.’

      ‘That’s not true.  There are times when I can tell she cares.  She just seems to block it out most of the time.  But there are times when it creeps through.  She does love me; she just doesn’t show it or maybe she doesn’t even know.  But she does…she does!‘

      ‘Uh huh, you say so but, personally, I think you oughta give Ms. Suzy a try.‘

      ‘Aww, she’s just a kid.‘

      ‘Kids don’t have tits that big, Fry.  And I don’t think she was thinking about a sleepover with your teddy bears when she asked you to stay the night.  And besides, she’s pretty and she likes you—shows she’s got good taste.’ 

      “I thought you might like to start off with your waffles first.  Oops.  Sorry, I just gave you a startle; day dreamin’, huh?  You thinking about me?”  Suzy smiled when Fry blushed.  “Your eggs and sausage are going to take a little longer.  You like sugar in your coffee?”

      “Uh, yeah.”

      “That’s good, ‘cause I stuck my finger in your coffee and stirred it.  Think about it.  Hey!  Your girl and you: are you guys having a baby?”

      “Uh, no.”

      “Oh, I saw your book: names for babies and all and I thought.”

      “No, I just thought it would be fun to read.”

      “Wow, you must love babies, huh?  Most guys I know are scared to death of them like they’re some kind of disease.  And you want your own.  Huh?  You know, we wouldn’t have to use any protection tonight.  You know?”

     “Oh Suzy.  You’re making it really hard on me.  Really hard.  But listen.  I love her.  I do.  And I know she loves me too.  I know it.  At least, I think so.  So, that’s why.  Even though I would really like to see you; that’s why.”

      “Awww, you are so sweet.  I was right about you.  I knew it.  Anyway, I’ll leave you alone and get the rest of your meal.  But just think about what I said for whenever.  Ok?  She is a lucky girl; I wish she was me but she’s not.”

      ‘That sorta bear!!’  He smiled, picked up his book, took a big gulp of coffee to nearly scald his mouth and then a gulp of ice water for the opposite effect and started reading names for babies.  Aaron—whoa, too many A’s

!**29.00.00……tick, tick,tick,tick**  Twenty-nine weeks:  Shakedown

      “We’re going to be taking the ship on its first shakedown tomorrow morning, Leela.  Would you like me to make an appointment for you with an obstetrician in Haarkanaan?”

      “ I checked and there’s one here who is supposed to be the best on Parsic.”

      “I don’t know, Amy.  We already checked and…”

      “Not for you.  For the baby.  Both of you’re going to have to have regular check outs.  You can wait a few more days but you’re going to have to do this right.  It’s too important not to.”

      “Oh god, I don’t want to go by myself.  I want a have a daddy for my baby.”

      “Oh, sweetheart.  I’ll go with you and hold your hand if you want.  You can tell the doctor the father is on earth which he surely is.”

      “Damn it, Fry.  I don’t want you to be the father.”

      “Leela, that’s your choice and no one else’s.  And you don’t have to decide now.  You never have to tell Fry if you don’t want to.”

      “I think he’s going to notice in a couple of weeks.”

      “Well, guh: he’s going to see you’re pregnant but you’ve been gone almost two months.  He never has to know who the father is and I’ll bet he’ll never even consider himself.  Most guys know how it works of course but they don’t seem to think that their ejaculating into a woman has any chance of ever making a baby”

      “But I want a daddy.”

      “You have plenty of time—seven months to find one and more after that for that matter.  Everything is going to be fine.”

      “Okay, please make me an appointment for tomorrow afternoon after lunch and yes, please come with me.”

      “Consider it done and please let me pay for your checkups--my gift to both of you but you’re still going to have to let me give you a shower.”

      “Thank you so much, Amy.  You’ve been a wonderful friend and I want you to be the godmother to our baby, if you would be willing.”


**28.06.00……tick, tick, tick, tick**  Twenty-eight weeks, six days:  Tomorrow---it’s only a day away

      Fry checked the readings once again: perfect.  He smiled broadly.  The unit was running in sync and at 99.874% efficiency and only drawing 75amp at 24v.  ‘Hell, that’s better than the specs of units that run in the millions.  And this only cost, let me see, 208hr @ 124.78/hr, that’s…uh…something under 26,000$ which would also cover the box of microfuses and gold nanowire.  Ok, we got ourselves a bargain.  Although it’s gonna have to be tested in space though I’d bet Leela on it’—unaware that he already had.

      Fry took a call from a Wolfgang on Parsik.  “Your company ship should be docking tomorrow afternoon.  Have Leela send me the performance readouts upon landing, will you?”

      “Tomorrow afternoon?  Really?  Tomorrow, tomorrow, it’s only a day away.  God, I hate that song.  What the hell was that from?”

Urban Legend
« Reply #15 on: 06-03-2010 01:43 »

Ok, joke intermission along with the popcorn.  It turns out the PE ship having taken an unstable worm hole lands in 18Cce France during the reign of terror.  Four intrepid crewmen: Leela, Fry, El Freako & timmothy walk through the paris rues looking for cheap champagne which can be used--amonth other thans--as a replacement for dark matter.  El Freako offends a  petit bourgeoisie wine merchant by offering too little for a nice little 1748 vintage and reports our heros to the revolutionary guard.  Based on his testimony alone, the four are sentenced to the guillotine tomorrow morning at sunrise.  Come manana, a tumbrel makes it way up from the Bastille through last night’s puddles to the little guillotine surrounded by the usual Le Tricoteuse.  Inside the little cart three stand with their hands tied behind backs standing in little pools of urine.  The fourth, Leela, is merely pissed that her contract has three more weeks to run and her voice turned down a lucrative little engagement because of it only a week ago.  Leela is the first taken to the instrument of death and hooded.  The blade comes swishing down and stops 2mm from her lovely purple hair on the nape of her neck.  Le Tricoteuse stop knitting to a woman and exclaim, it’s a sign of God; let her go.  Leela yells wahoo and heads over to a little café with outside seating for a café au lait and to enjoy the rest of the live entertainment.  Fry is escorted next to Dr. Guillotine’s little machine.  He is hooded; the blade comes down lickity split and stops 1.5mm from Fry’s red hair  on his nape.  Le Tricoteuse stop knitting to a woman and exclaim, it’s a sign of God; let him go and Fry joins Leela in the peanut gallery sipping an absinthe.  El Freako is number three; the blade comes down so fast it is a blur and again it stops 1mm away from the black hair of El Freako’s neck.  The Le Tricoteuse are getting a little restless, they want to see some action but again they say, God’s will and El Freako joins his friends at the café with a nice glass of merlot.  Our last crew member, timmothy is dragged over to le guillotine and he looks at and feels the wood.  ‘You know, you guys shouldn’t leave this out in the rain; it’s swollen.  But if you spray a little 10w40 here and here, it should work pretty good.    2minutes to the re-start of the feature; buy your popcorn now and get to your seat.

boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #16 on: 06-03-2010 02:41 »

Striking color and a very effective graphic; wow.  Which of course does not surprise me.  Point made which more than likely just adds to your considerable total he says as he takes a nine count a moment before the bell.

Urban Legend
« Reply #17 on: 06-03-2010 02:42 »


New Tester
Urban Legend
« Reply #18 on: 06-03-2010 03:27 »

Striking color and a very effective graphic; wow.  Which of course does not surprise me.  Point made which more than likely just adds to your considerable total he says as he takes a nine count a moment before the bell.

what freako said, or ronald, whatever.

Urban Legend
« Reply #19 on: 06-03-2010 11:35 »

El Freako offends a  petit bourgeoisie wine merchant by offering too little for a nice little 1748 vintage and reports our heros to the revolutionary guard.

Just an FYI, 'El Freako' is the dynamic art duo of me and Futurama_Freak1. We can prove it, there are pics. smile

Urban Legend
« Reply #20 on: 06-03-2010 11:48 »

Which reminds me, we gotta make a new one sometime.
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #21 on: 06-03-2010 19:02 »
« Last Edit on: 06-07-2010 02:31 »

   **28.05.21……tick,tick,tick,tick**  Twenty-eight weeks, five days:  Unfinished jobs—old and new

         Fry rushed out of the clean-room and stripped his bunny-suit off and threw it the wash with all his other clothes, added detergent and pushed the on-button.  He started vacuuming naked.  He did the few dishes—four wine glasses and a juice glass: the total of two months, two day’s worth of dishes.  He threw the clothes in the dryer and dusted and then cleaned the bathroom, washed the windows, repaired the fist-hole in the cabinet and vacuumed, mopped and buffed the floors.  He took a long shower and washed his hair and then cleaned the shower.  He took out all the trash and returned the empties to the Slurm™ Brewery and Bottling Co.  He cleaned the filters on the clean-room and picked up anything he had disturbed in the lab and left the Zicron™ to recycle the lab air and give it another short trial.  Fry slipped on The Navy Sweater and a new shirt and khakis and new tennies.  He sat down at the Professor’s computer and printed off on the big lab printer a banner: ‘Welcome home Amy, Leela, and Professor.  We missed you!!!’
         He picked flowers in the garden and filled a dozen one-liter lab flasks.  He sat down at the couch and waited.

         It seemed like another month-or-two but it was only an hour.  The PE™ ship was finally docking.  Fry rushed to the hanger and made sure the banner was still hanging and straight and ran his fingers through his hair and straightened his red shirt.  He held three flowers which he formally handed one to each with a right cheek-left cheek-right cheek kiss as they stepped off the stairs. 

         Leela, the last one off, was touched by the flower and the banner.  “Fry, that’s really sweet.  I missed you and your little kindnesses.”

         “Really?  I mean, yes, I missed you too…a lot.”

         She took his hand and literally dragged him up the stairs—not to her cabin as he was disappointed to learn but to the ship in general.  She showed off each change starting with the engine room. “Just look at these beauties.  We lowered our return trip by six point two hours with fifteen percent less fuel and it wasn’t even trying.  The PE™ ship is now one of the fastest ships in this quadrant of the universe.  It will easily outrun any DOOP ship and just wait till that cretin Zap tries to board us the next time.  And, get this, it’s got a cloaking device—zero energy so it is completely undetectable unless you run into it.  The controls are all new.  There’s a new galley.  The bunks are a little wider and longer and way more comfortable and ta, ta, ta, taa: built in heaters and full body massage.  The portholes are larger and are insulated and strengthened by a factor of six and they’ll take a direct laser-hit.  There’s real teak flooring and it has a lifetime polish on it and there are real wool oriental rugs in the cabins and in front of the couch.  The head is brand new and has that wonderful new smell so unlike the old smell; she wrinkled her nose & shuddered and I get a bidet—you can use it too if you want.  The couch is new and is longer and has real leather and there are bigger display units.  And the chairs—the seats are heaven with heating and cooling units built in as well as the massagers.  Oh, right:  Cooling unit—I ordered a Siliix III™ cooling unit and it works much better than that old crappy one.  I didn’t want you to feel badly that you didn’t finish the old Zircon™.”

         Fry’s face fell.  He had to turn before she saw the tears flowing down his face.  “That was pretty clever and considerate of you, Leela.  I guess you know how unreliable I am.  Imagine that I would even try to fix the god-damned Zircon™.  I never want to see that pile of %$@# again…or this friggin’ ship…or you!!!!”  And he stormed out and down the stairs three at a time.

         Leela was dumbfounded; she stared after him.  “Darn it’ it’s not my fault you didn’t do your job.  If you want to feel guilty and grumpy; that’s your problem.   Grow up you spoiled child!  I’ve got my own baby now to worry about; you can take a long flying one!”

         Leela and Amy greeted each other in the lounge a half hour later:  ”You owe me dinner and champagne, massage & shampoo, girl.”  And:  “How do you figure?”

           They continued to talk at the same time until Amy put her hand over Leela’s mouth.  “You’re wrong Leela.  Come into the lab with me and take a look.”

         The Professor was sitting at the table going over Fry’s notes on his old backlit notepad:  “…most impressive; most impressive, indeed.”

        The control and test lights were all flickering in the half light of the lab and casting strange shadows with their irregular flashes out of their housings.  Leela looked a long time at the stripped down equipment.  She couldn’t count all the new splices and soldered joints with the new feeds and new capacitors and multisensors—never mind the cold- and micro-soldered connections.  She looked at the attached simple and complex volt meters and oscilloscopes running perfect sine waves and the thermometers.  She looked and looked and looked.  She reached out and ran her finger along a new heat exchanger coil.  She could not believe it.  ‘Oh my god, what have I done!?!’

         “Geeze, Leela!  It’s only one bottle of champagne.  It’s a little expensive maybe but not priceless.  I thought you would be pleased.” 

         “I am pleased, really pleased, that he tried and was able to finish it.  Really pleased and I also ruined it.  I chased him away away…again.  He tried to turn away but you should have seen his face!!”

         The Professor had run out and returned with the Siliix™ manuals piled in his arms.  He started perusing them rapidly.  “I hate to say it and I mean really hate but Fry deserves a raise and probably a promotion.  According to his figures, which look right, he fixed and upgraded this heap of junk to out-perform a 2.248million dollar Siliix™ unit that had a trillion dollar development budget or anything else on the market for something close to 26,000$  which I would have paid him for drinking beer and watching television.  Remarkable.  Oh, and Stuffy, the janitor, should get one too.  This place hasn’t looked this good since I was a young buck.  My god, you can actually see out of the windows.  I didn’t remember that wall even had windows.”

         “Professor,” Amy chimed in:  “Snuffy asked permission to go home to his mother’s and wanted you to call him there when you returned.  Fry must have cleaned.”

         “Remarkable, indeed.  In deed!  Fry: we hardly knew ye.” 

         “You can get him back!  In a heartbeat. Amy whispered to Leela.  Remarkable, indeed.  You’ve got yourself a daddy for the baby for only a dinner, a bottle of champagne, a backrub and a hair job and a Zircon 3M™”  They hugged and then laughed completely mystifying the Professor.

        Leela asked Amy, “Where do you think I should start?”

         “Try his apartment first then the taverns and then the bars.  Just smile at him, hold your hand out to him and tell him you’re sorry.  He’ll melt; he’ll beg you to forgive him.”


         “Guh, not after he’s seen Paree.”


         Bender sat on the couch in the chilly room smoking a cigar.  No one had been in the clean and tidy apartment for close to a month and the air was cold and...what?  Geez, is that Pinesol and Lysol?  Smells like crap. He disgustedly looked at the polished floor and the clean windows and flicked an ash on the floor. 

         Leela knocked gently on the door.

         “Just leave it in the hall…the money’s in an envelope in front of the door; it’s all you’re getting.”

         Leela knocked again.

         “What?  You expecting some kind of tip or something?  Bender stuck his head out the door.  “What!?  Oh, it’s you, Ms. Bossy Big Boobs.”

         “I really missed you too, Bender.  But thanks, I’m fine.  Have you seen Fry?”   

         “Saw The Skin-tube about a month ago.  The selfish bastard wouldn’t let me in your apartment.  Wanted it all for himself.  Wouldn’t come with me, his best friend.  Hey, is that what a best friend does?”

         “My apartment?  What?”

         “Uh, he needed to fix a leak, take a leak or something involving take or leak; I was going to help. 

        “You know where he is?”

         “With Fry, who can tell?  I mean Look at this place.  It’s not fit to live in.”

         “Umm, looks cleaner, neat, no dirty dishes or beer cans or rank smells.”

         “Exactly.  Who can relax in a heap like this?”

         “Ok, when I find him, I’ll tell him you want him to trash the place.”

          “Nah, I’ll have it back in order in no time.  Just tell him to cut that crap out; two’s gotta live here.  If he wants to go flower vases and clean windows, he can move in with you.”

         Leela ran down the stairs.  “What was he doing at my apartment?  Probably should try O’Zorgnax’s first.

**28.05.21……tick,tick,tick,tick**  Twenty-eight weeks, five days:  Running

         Fry stood outside in the rain in front of IHOPe and would occasionally turn around and look in the window.  His red hair was plastered to his scalp.  He was entirely wet but his shoulders, front, and feet were completely soaked and the wind, which was picking up, was damn cold.  He occasionally caught sight of Suzy carrying a tray of plates and coffees but it did nothing to him; he felt dead inside.  He turned into the wind and slowly dragged his feet through the litter-choked puddles

   He saw a big guy dressed entirely in brown except for the white shirt: short-shorts, sleeveless t-shirt & vest, ballcap, and boots.  He was followed closely by six women who kept reaching out and pinching his butt.  He would occasionally look over his shoulder and wink at one.  ‘United Planet Service™, hmmm’ thought Fry.  He followed behind the women restraining his impulse to reach out to the blonde with a similar pinch and came to a large UPS™ station.  He read a sign by the door  ‘WANTED: county-certified starship pilot-delivery specialists—current career chip required and will be verified and substance abuse-tested.  Starting annual salary 452,400credits with three weeks on; three weeks off.  Medical, disability, death and burial policies provided.  1mo annual vacation; liberal pension plan provided.  Must be able to lift ten clean of reps of 450kg.’

‘Crap, no wondering they’re following him.  He’s starting to look good to me too.’     Fry turned down East 23rd to get the wind out of his face.

Hey, Miss Leela; long time no see.  He looked at his watch.  Coffee?  Beer?  Beer with a coffee chaser?

Hi, Jimmy.  No thanks.  I’m looking for Fry.  You see him today?

Left about twenty minutes ago.  Drank four Slurms with a couple of Scotch bumps.  Didn’t do much good; there were tears in his eyes the whole time but he said he didn’t want to talk.  I lectured him anyway.  Maybe you can talk some sense into him or else slap him.

**28.05.18……tick,tick,tick,tick**  Twenty-eight weeks, five days. Eighteen hours:  Suicide Booth: no refund; no exit

It was raining hard and hard to see at any distance.  Looming up ahead was the same suicide booth he and Bender had tried out all those years ago.  Fry smiled for the first time in three hours and twenty two minutes.

Hi, maybe you can help me.  I’ve been in here before; you remember me?

One-eye, purple hair, terrific body, loud laugh, doesn’t take crap, plays Buddy Holly on the box, likes good scotch neat, plays decent boogy woogy and blues on the piano over there:  never saw you before.  Hi, I’m Sam.  Yes and I would love to get to know you better.

Hey, Sam.  A couple of weeks ago I was in here with a red-headed guy named Fry.  You remember maybe?  You see him today?

Goofy guy; not so funny today—more maudlin.  Sure, left about ten minutes ago.  Looked like a drowned rat.  Drank down two very well laced Irish-coffees.  At least he left warm.

Thinking back, Bender’s actions were a mystery at best and down right stupid on the other end.  Now, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea.  The booth was next to a sheltering ubiquitous urban tree, Ailanthus altissima.  A familiar smiling face looked down from the billboard across the street.  ‘Zap Brannigan says sign up for a 25 year tour in your hometown unit of DOOP—See the universe.  Your DOOP needs YOU.’ and his battle-hardened finger pointed directly at Fry.
Fry pushed open the door.  ‘Hey, at least I can die out of the wind and rain; I wish this thing had a heater unit in it as well.  I also wish to god that braggart, Old Lard Butt, wasn’t looking down on me doing this.’

“Deposit .50gold for heating unit.  .12gold when combined with our daily special or .30gold with suicide options.  Unable to comply with request regarding Captain Brannigan.”


Deposit .75gold for cooling unit.”

Fry pulled up the menu to check what other services were available.  He noted the heavily advertised newly offered feature, ‘Death by snu-snu’ by Dave’s Hometown Hookerbots and More™ inc: 2.65gold.  There were two pages of options for this on the menu including under the influence of Slurm© and Dave’s Hometown Pizza© total 4.70gold which looked pretty good.  He fingered his five dollar gold piece.

One last chance:  Fry ticked off his fingers reason for:  ‘One: Leela gave me a chance and despite my best shots—literally—she beat the crap out of me.  Two: I’m in a dead-end job with a bootleg career chip where I get to see Leela every day and knowing she doesn’t think jack of me which is both humiliating and frustrating.  Three: My brother and parents have been dead for a thousand years and I’m alone except for one robot who can barely tolerate me despite being friends.  Four: ditto except with dog, Seymour.  Five:  Nothing is fun any more.  Six: It hurts to breathe; it hurts to live.  Seven: I’m tired of living on hope and I’ve given up.  Crap, there’s gotta be an eight.  I just can’t think of it.  Hmmm.  Well that’s enough anyway.’

   ‘Ok, reasons against:  ‘one:  well…hmmm…,well, there’s…,and don’t forget…  Crap.  Nothin.  I guess that doesn’t surprise me.’ 
Fry slipped the five dollar gold piece in the slot.  The booth responded, “Am I speaking to Philip J Fry?”

   ‘That can’t be good.’  “Uh, no, I don’t think so.”

   “I have visual recognition of a Mr. Philip J Fry.  Were you in this booth on 28Mar1999 at 2015hours with a Bender Rodriguez, bending unit?

“No, I was out of town…in the hospital…operation.  “

“Said bending unit tried to obtain services at that time by obstructing coin slot.  There are 242 outstanding warrents for said bending unit and one warrant existant for you, Mr. Fry, for possible removal and/or misuse of career chips.  Please pay the due .50gold or I shall call the Committee for Public Safety.  You have twenty seconds to comply…19, 18…”

Fry pushed on the door.  It was locked.

“17, 16, 15…”

   “Fry said, “you already have five dollar credit from me.  Take the .50 out of that.”

   “Thank you, Sir.  You have 4.50gold credit.  Please make a selection.

   “Ok, I’d like one death by snu snu with under the influence of Slurms.”

   ‘Very excellent selection, Mr. Fry.  Please deposit .20gold.”

   What?  I already gave you five bucks.  Snu snu-slurms should only be 4.70.”

   “That is correct Mr. Fry.  But I believe you may have forgotten the outstanding .50gold.  Please deposit .20gold or make another selection; no refunds.”

   “Awww, man!”

   Sorry, Mr. Fry.  I failed to adequately understand your last request.  Would you please repeat your request.”

   “How much for that with just Slurm™ IP and no pizza?”

   “Excellent choice; that would be 3.50gold but there is also an ala carte-fee of 1.50gold for ordering a non-menu item.  Please deposit 5.00gold.”

boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #22 on: 06-05-2010 19:06 »
« Last Edit on: 06-07-2010 02:45 »

      “Please repeat your last request, sir.”
   Fry sank to his knees with his arms over his head.  It took almost four minutes to look up or otherwise respond to the constant pounding that was assaulting the booth.

   Outside Leela kept pounding on the booth with her swollen fists and yelling his name over and over.
   Fry pushed the door open

   “God damn it, Fry.  What the hell are you doing?”

   Fry crawled out and was kneeling by her feet on his hands and knees.  “Please Leela, don’t kick me.”

   “If I had been thinking about it; that surely would have done it.  What the hell you talking about?  Fry, I’m not angry with you, I just don’t understand what you think you’re doing.  What are you doing or better yet, why are you doing it?”

   “Killing myself?”

   “Yeah, it kind of looked like that…suicide booth and all.  Why?”

   “Why not?  I came up with a list a minute ago of eight items but I couldn’t remember number eight.”

   “Seven?  Name one”

   “Awww, I can’t remember them now but they’re still there.  Most of them have been hanging over me my entire life.  I should never have come here—ten some years ago.  I should have killed myself December 31, 1999; that way I would have involved less people in my screwed up life.

   “What would I have done if you had not come, Fry.  Would you really have purposefully done that to me?”

    “Oh, Leela, I don’t mean anything to you, not really.  Comic relief doesn’t count and what else has there ever been.  You told me so yourself.”

   “Fry, I feel sick.  I’ve told you that so many times; you always ignored me.  I guess I must have assumed you always would.  I know it hurts.  I know how it feels to want to commit suicide; I’ve felt that way my entire life and I know it’s horrible.  I remember the first time I really believed it; I was sitting behind me watching me go through the steps with no feeling at all, just watching a holograph.  After a while, It scared the crap out of me; I knew I was going to do it—that it would be easy.  So I know how you feel and I’m sick inside for contributing to what I guess is an important part of your seven reasons.  I don’t know how you’ll ever be able to forgive me.  It might be a little different if I didn’t understand what it could mean but I know really well.  I’ve known a long time you are special to me and it was just too inconvenient for me to admit it, for me to act on it.

         They stood there and looked at each other for a long time.

         “Fry, please forgive me for doing that; please, please forgive me for doubting you.”

          “It’s okay, Leela.  I had doubts too.  And you of all people, why wouldn’t you?”

         “Er…I’ve looked at all your notes and your work.  It’s wonderful and very impressive.  The Professor is also very impressed and I don’t know anyone who’s ever done that except, and I would never, ever say it to him:  Wernstrom.  There is a genetic link all right.  When did you start and when did you finish?”

         “The day you left.  I was so sad and missed you so much, I just had to do something.  I finished last night.  I just had time to clean today.”                                                                                                                                                                                                   

         “You may have cost Stuffy his job if you want it along with your current and future ones.”
         “Future ones?”

         ”The Professor wants to make you a part-time laboratory technician and the janitor if you want it.  Apparently you don’t have any choice over the technician and job delivery positions.  And I want you for a time-and-a-half husband and full-time daddy for our baby.  We’re pregnant.  Fry, will you marry me?  And if yes, will you come to my parents with me tonight.  And I warn you, the husband part will be the most difficult.  The would-be wife sometimes jumps to conclusions; she can be really nasty and can hurt the people she loves.”

“Oh, god.  The easy one is the first: no”

“You don’t want to be a janitor?”

“Right, I don’t want to be a janitor.  I don’t want to have to ever clean the PE™ building again.  I thought my apartment was bad but the owl crap really got to me.  It was two feet thick in places and I had to use a cold chisel on the windows; maybe that was owl crap too.”
“Ok…the other two?”
“Are you happy with being pregnant or maybe I should say are ok with being pregnant?”
“I am now.  I can see all kinds of possibilities.  Yes, Fry, I am excited and happy.
“Then I’m happy for you.  I’m glad you’re not worried it’ll change your life at least for the worse.  When you said, ‘we’re pregnant’, I assume you mean Christmas eve was special after all
“Oh, Fry, It was always special.  I just had to realize it.”
“Since it’s my baby, of course I’ll be a daddy.  I already know how not to do it; at least one way not to do it.  I’m sure there are good parenting simulators now; I’ll check with one of our branch librarians to find a good one but I remember there was a parenting book in the eighties by some guy with the same name as the Leonard Nemoy character who plays the Vulcan in the old tv series I can’t legally refer to: Spock.  Dad hated that guy so I figure it probably is worth reading.  Maybe the rare book section has some format of that book.
“You have it bracketed.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“The second question.  Like when you’re in the turret and you’ve shot on either side of your target.  You know where your next shot is headed: it’s bracketed.  I kind of thought that would be the first one you’d answer.  Did I ruin it for you when I proposed?”
“No…it’s an honor to be asked by you.”
“But…There’s a ‘but’ there isn’t there?”
 “Leela, just now in the booth?  When I found out I didn’t have enough money to kill myself the way I want to—the way that sounded like it was possible, er, rather, doable?  I realized I was going to have to open that door and still be alive.  It was then I didn’t think I could go back in even if I had the money on me: I was going to have to live.  And I considered what you said about never loving or wanting me and I wondered if I could live without you.  And while I was on the floor—at the very bottom, if you will—I knew I was going to have to if I couldn’t kill myself.  And just now when you asked me if I would marry you, I was so afraid that if I said yes and then before or even after the marriage you change your mind--you realize you were right all along—and I’m suddenly without you again.  I’d be back here on the floor again but with no way out:  I couldn’t kill myself but I couldn’t live without you.  Is there some place even worse than the ninth circle?”
“Fry, I don’t plan on changing my mind.  No wait, that’s not right.  I’m not changing my mind.  Fry, I’ll always want to be married to you.”
“But don’t you see, I would always be waiting for when you did.  The longer we were married, the worse it would be.” 
“Oh lord.  So is that a ‘no?’  Fry, you wouldn’t be trying to pay me back, would you”  I probably deserve it but I don’t really  think you’d do that, but then I don’t know.”
“No Leela.  You never did that to me; you were always answering me with what you felt; it may have hurt but it was never meant to—just honesty.  Could I have a day or two to think about it?”
“Not if you already know the answer.  ”
“Leela, I just told you what I was afraid of, not what I knew.”
“Yes, of course, that’s fair.  Think about it a day, two or three.  Are three days sufficient?
“Yes and I was serious about it being an honor.  I am truly touched.  And I am still serious about parenting with you.  I intend to do the very best I can with our baby.”
“I know you will Fry.  Am I going to see you tomorrow at PE™?”
“Tell Hermes and the Professor I need a day off.  I’ll be back the next day if there is a delivery or staff meeting or work.  And please tell the Professor ‘no’ regarding the janitor job but that I am excited about working with him whenever he wants.  Okay?”
“K and thank you for being honest with me Fry.”
I feel rotten and sad that I hurt you, Leela.”
“Oh, sweetheart.  So many times it was the other way around.  Yes, I know exactly how you feel.  It is fair as well as my karma to have this happen.  Please, if you will, once is quite enough to be an effective learning experience for me”.
**28.05.18……tick,tick,tick,tick**  Twenty-eight weeks, five days. Seventeen hours. thirty minutes:  Three days to decide the rest of your life
Fry was still on his hands and knees and he slowly stood as he watched Leela turn and walk back down East 23rd.  When he couldn’t make out her pony tail swinging back and forth as she walked, he slowly headed in the same direction.
‘When had it stopped raining?’  ‘Did Leela bring the sun with her or was that after he told her no?’  He wished he could remember as if it would make one of them more significant than the other.  Maybe it could help the internal war within Fry.
He was surprised how many blocks he had walked.  He was back in front of IHOPe™.  He paused a moment to glance in the window and then turned suddenly and started westward again and ran straight into…”Oh…excuse…”
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #23 on: 06-07-2010 02:48 »
« Last Edit on: 06-07-2010 03:18 »

“Hey, it’s you!”
“I’m really sorry, I didn’t hurt you did I?”
“No.  Are you disappointed?”
“You mean am I disappointed in not hurting you?”
“I’m just kidding.  You don’t look like you’re into s&m.”
“Uh, that’s good.”
“Hey, what’s your name?  What do you want me to call you”
“That would be Fry to both of them.
“Fry.  As in Philip J. Fry.”
   “Fry.  I like that.  I like you.  You walk me home?”
   “I just happen to be available and am at your service.  Where do you live, Suzy?”
   “East 23rd and Madison—twelve blocks west of here.  14th floor apartment—rent controlled and nice.  Come on walk me home and I’ll show you.  You look like you could use a good cup of coffee.”
   “No more coffee.  Please.  I’ve already had a gazillion cups—laced & straight; only way I could keep warm in this god-awful weather.”
   “Fry, I find myself becoming very attracted to you.  Do you want me cut it out; end it before it gets out of hand; before I get lost in you.”  Her hand came up to his face, the other rested itself on his shoulder…for less than a second:  “Ohmagosh: you’re soaked.  Come on: brisk walk, quickly now.  We gotta get you out of those wet clothes.  It’s getting cold.  Good thing the wind is at our backs.  Why on earth were you out walking in it?  If you were drinking coffee, why didn’t you come into IHOPe™ for some?  I’d have made it especially sweet for you, don’t you remember?.”
“Not necessarily…’  he took her hand.  “Thinking.  Running away.  Running away, thinking“Thinking about me?”
“I guess, in part.”
“The good part or the bad part?”
“There was no good or bad; it just was.”
“And whom or what were you running away from and did you succeed?”
“Turned out it was me; alas, no.”
“You’re safe now.  I got you and I won’t let you get you: stay back, vile dimmerwique!.”  She put one of her arms around Fry, she held him off with other.  Fry, your face has been stuck in an ice maker:  you’re freezing and we’ve been practically running for almost two blocks.  Wait a sec.  Tweeeeeaaeeeeet  Taxi!  Ahh, we ride in style.”
‘Wow.  That was cool; I’m really jealous.  Can you show me how to whistle like that?
“Uh huh.  First lesson in the cab in forty-four seconds.  Hi, E23rd and Madison please.  We gotta get this young man out of the cold.  Would you please turn your heat on high for a few blocks, okay?”
“Now, is this not better and look at this: clean seats—amazing.  Ok student, put your mouth like this.  No more like this…purse your lips.”  Her hand came up to his mouth, first stroking his cheek then molding his lips, just so.  “Good.  Now open your lips a little.  That’s good.  Now bring your tongue and stick it out maybe half an inch.  Uh huh.  Now think whistle—sweet, clear and long.  Sometimes it helps if you close your eyes when you envision that.”  Suzy put her mouth over Fry’s pursed lips and pushed her tongue past his.  She pulled him close so that his soaked shirt was getting her wet and she put her arms around him and held him tight for ten more blocks while their tongues played and fought with each other.
“Keep the change.”  
“Suzy, thanks for the whistle lesson.  When can I have my second one?”
“Soon as we get you out of these clothes.  Mine too, now”
“Fry was disappointed when three other people joined them in the elevator and he settled for holding her hand listening to an inane and strange variation of a Beatles tune.”
“You live here by yourself or do you have an absent roommate.”
“Jill is visiting her parents in Michigan this week.  Be back on Sunday night.  We went to high school, college and our first graduate school together—might as well been married to her.”
“I don’t know what I expected but this isn’t it.”
“Cold water flat walk-up cum-bare hanging light globe?”
“Something like that.”
“That was a couple of years ago.  This almost congenital sister: friend, sorority sister and roommate—Jill—has money: trust fund kid.  And like I said, it’s rent-controlled.”
“Still couldn’t afford it.”
“Neither could I.  Stand still.  Button, button, who’s got the button?.  Lift your arms.  Now left leg, and now right.  How much water do you think are in these socks?  Half cup?
“Quarter cup?”
“Maybe eighth”
“Your turn: you undress me.  Uh-uh.  No kissing until I light the fire and get us fine snifters of cognac.  Ok if I warm yours or would you like your out of the box.”
“Very traditional.  Sounds wonderful and splash a little on your shoulder and breasts.”
“We don’t waste Jill’s special bottle of Hennessy.  But you’ll find my body intoxicating enough as it is.  Is this not fine?  Tee-hee, that was of Jane Austen and I always wanted to say it; I’m kinda a Janeite.  Now is your opportunity to scream and flee.  As soon as you finish that brandy, we’re going to make love so girt your loins and make ready while I girt your loins as well.”
“Suzy, just exactly how does one go about girting one’s loins?”
“You haven’t finished the cognac yet but you start by doing this.”
 The last thing Fry remembered was when Suzy pulled out from under his arm and pulled the blanket up and tucked him in.  The darkness, intimacy, and sleepiness made him feel like a little boy again in his old bedroom he shared with his brother but in that vein, he was wishing his mommy had kissed him before leaving.  Maybe Suzy intercepted that thought:  She leaned down and kissed his cheek and lips and buttlerlied his eyelid; she turned out the light and closed the bedroom door.  He smiled deeply, sighed and fell back to sleep.
Susan James Anderson     (your basic over-achiever: b2978:  Songwriter, composer, poet, telenovelista, pulp-fiction writer, novelist, and essayist—unpublished in all.  Second daughter of Philip & Helen Anderson of Midland, Michigan—senior chemists with Dowphizer Chemical Company.  m. 3002: Dwight Blayne Anderson, sgt Marine Corps, mia. HS:Midland, MI:Midland Senior High School: valedictorian, national honor society,  Latin guild 3yr, president.   Sp: varsity volleyball 2yr, captain; varsity track 3yr—220 high hurdles and 100 dash, conf ch; varsity basketball 3yr--point guard and lead scorer all-conf 3yr; varsity wrestling 2yr, 112 world-ch. Mus:choir—lead soprano; orchestra—piano, Belcamp medal 2yr; jazz band--piano, 3yr.  COL: Michigan State University, East Lansing:  Bachelor of Sci (summa cum laude),1994--Kappa Alpha Theta (beta pi) president; Phi Beta Kappa (delta kappa) treasurer & sec’y; theater 4yr—junior and senior class play lead; jazz band—pianist & flautist; orchestra-first violin and pianist 3yr; choir—soprano and accompanist;  Bach Soc 3yr president; Student body president 2yrs. Sp: Varsity Volleyball 4yr captain 2yr; Varsity Basketball point guard 3yr and capt 2yr, All-Big Ten 2yr; Varsity Track-100yd dash RH, CRH 4yr, All-Big Ten 3yr and All-world 2yr; Varsity golf,1yr capt Conf Nicholson medal. Michigan State Univ, East Lansing, MI: Master  of Sci, 1996.  Ann Arbor, MI:The University of Michigan--Master of Fine Arts in music composition 2998; Master Fine Arts in piano, guitar, flute & violin instrumentation 2999. SDS president.  Noncol: Philpean masseuse graduate 2998, Cordon-Bleu,Paris, EdF, 3001. Mil: Naval corpsman 3000-03.  Marine Sgt (fld-prom 3002); ocs Parris Isl, SC—Lt 3003-5: Parthos War dec: nvl cr, slvr st(2), purple heart (3); non-actv-mar rsv. Msc: occasional NPR commentator; black-belt Nigian Bantu, Greater NNY Taekwondo Assoc 4th dan Saburn, Sat & Sun NNYT crossword contrib. , New New Yorker contrib ed & cartoonist, full-time romantic; Macarthur Fel; Fulbright Fel; Tri-Borough Chess Open Chmp 3007-09; Manhattan Tennis Assoc Open singles Chmp 3008; senior IHOPe waitperson & hostess)      pulled the belt off Fry’s jeans and emptied his pockets: four old copper pennies—she recognized them from a museum exhibition not far from her apartment—‘who carries XXCce pennies in their pockets?’  She briefly wondered what they were worth.  Additionally the left front pocket also yielded an apartment key as well as four keys marked do not duplicate, property of PE™ on a PE™ key ring;  there was a finely crafted anti-charge/magnetic molybdenum key that obviously belonged to a starship that was much more advanced than a personal carrier.  ‘PE™ keys and a starship key?  Hmmm, Planet Express employee: starship pilot or engineer and delivery specialist.  Must be younger than he looks, their crewmen are expendable and shouldn’t last long unless very good and/or lucky’  Two gold-foiled condoms creased and bent—‘hmmm, those look about as effective as what we just used.’; and the last item was one old red knife—multibladed--with a worn cross on the plastic handle.  Cross but not crescent: ‘not a blood donor gift like I thought.  My god, that’s old stainless steel.  No wonder it’s dull.  I’ve barely heard of the stuff.  Maybe it’s before Red Cross and Red Crescent combined: god, that would make it improbably old.’    
Suzy pulled a wad of wet papers out of his right front pocket.  She laid them out and tried to smooth out the wrinkles.  It took only a moment to understand they were notes on an engineering project and various unmailed letters to…to…
That was none of her business.  She reached for the back pockets when she quickly dropped the jeans and pulled the glo-lamp closer and grabbed a pile of papers.  ‘This one is to a Leela; this is to the same person, Leela, hmmm, again, and again.  Ok this is the does-she-or-doesn’t-she lover.  I wonder what it costs these days to put a contract on someone?  Ok, do we read these or do we…of course we do!”  
‘Bitch!  Selfish, uncaring, ‘can we talk about me, now’, bitch.”  He loves her so much and she gets her jollies by blowing him off: “Let’s see how I can screw with his mind and feelings tonight.”  I want to slap her.  Of course, I should kiss her ass.  She’s pushed him right into my arms and I’m only going to feel mildly guilty that I’m grabbing him when he’s extremely vulnerable.  Oh, Susan James, that was four simply lovely orgasms and I feel wonderful right down to my little toe which is about the only thing he did not suck on or lick.  Hmmmmmmm.  God!!  Hmm, as soon as these clothes are dry, I’m going to climb back in bed with him and go for number five and six and why not seven.’
   Fry did not want to open his eyes let alone get out of bed.  He was tempted to just roll over and see if could wait this out for a little longer.  He was lying almost diagonally on the bed with his feet out of the covers on the other side which he had to move when his bladder offered an objection of pure logic which Fry was  forced to confront: extreme discomfort.  He pulled the rest of the sheets and blankets off of him  and swung his legs carefully over and down and rose slowly moving off to what he hoped was a bathroom.  Standing in the dark and hearing rather than seeing or feeling the steady flow of urine, he glanced at his luminous dial: 2:18.  He ran hot water and kept his hands under it as long as he could stand it when it suddenly occurred to him that Suzy had not been in bed with him.  He walked into the living room where she sat naked on the floor hunched over music paper next to her piano capturing her distorted reflection in its graceful curves.  The only light in the room was an old piano light perched on the stool above her lovely left shoulder.  “Hi.  Can’t sleep?”
   Suzy looked up startled.  She jumped up and hugged Fry, kissing him.  “I had to get up.  I kept putting pieces of music together in my head and if I didn’t get up and write them down now, I was afraid I was going to lose them.  Maybe in the morning it will all be discordant but right now, in my head, it sounds like I want it to sound.  I started working on this two years ago and I don’t know how many times I put it aside only to come back to it.  It’s got a damn knack of eluding me. It’s a theme suggested by this and she hummed a short line.
   “That sounds nice--lovely.”
   “Let me play some of it and then if you want, I could play a little of what I was messing with.”  She moved the light and sat on the bench.  As she sat her hands on the keys Fry looked for the name of the piece but there was no music in front of her.
   Fry was not very musical.  His musical tastes generally ran in the 1990s.  His greatest influence came from Michelle: he generally hated what she liked which meant he hated Madonna and all rap and especially Whiney Houston.  He probably liked Pearl Jam the best and wished he still had his cassettes of Last kiss, Hold my hand and Better man.  Hootie & the blowfish probably came in a distant second.  He liked some older alternate rock groups like the Cranberries and he still loved the old rockers like Buddy Holly and Chuck Berry and somewhere in his genes were the Beatles.  He was surprised he liked his dad’s favorites: The Four tops and a lot of other Motown and Billie Holiday backed by Lester Young.  He liked listening to jazz and blues but he never could identify the artists or the songs.  He fondly remembered some of his mother’s classical artists and although he enjoyed listening to them he would be embarrassed if anyone he knew saw him or heard him doing it.  He was pretty ignorant of the music of his own lifetime never mind the next thousand years so he was surprised that the music sounded familiar.  It was almost he could anticipate what was coming next.  “I like that.  I like that a lot.  I have no idea what it is but I think I’ve heard it before.”
   “I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.  It was very popular a few years ago—a crossover hit.  There was a lot of play time and it was hard to avoid.  It was from the overture of the opera, Leela; orphan of the stars.”
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #24 on: 06-07-2010 22:04 »
« Last Edit on: 06-07-2010 22:08 »

     Fry’s mouth opened and slowly closed along with his eyes, “I wrote that.”
     “Pardon, I couldn’t make that out.  ‘I something…’  Fry, what did you just say?”
     “I…I…It was som…”  His hands came up and covered his face and he cried.  He fell into her arms and he cried like a baby that was hurt and alone.”
     Sometime after five minutes of holding the sobbing Fry, it hit her what he had just said:  ‘I wrote that.’  ‘Is that even remotely possible when he didn’t even recognize it?  And the tears and the despair?’  The puzzle, like so many of its kind which seem so unfathomable and yet obviously simple when completed, started filling in.  ‘Leela of the letters, the bitch, is the woman he loves or thinks he loves and is the woman he wrote the opera—the declaration of his love--for.  And then he just disappeared or so everyone thought.  So Leela either didn’t requite his feelings or she did and later changed her mind and rejected him yet again.  And he is still crushed and still pursuing this phantom bitch.  Oh, this poor, poor man!’  And she held him all the harder.  They both fell asleep on the floor by the piano, Fry still being held by Suzy, his face buried against her breasts
**28.05.03……tick,tick,tick,tick**  Twenty-eight weeks, five days, three hours:  
     One down, two more days to decide the rest of your life

     A little after six, the sunlight came through the windows and onto Suzy’s face.  Her eyes opened and she saw the rain-washed clear sky, the trees below in the park, and the sleeping Fry, still held tightly against her breast.  Her heart melts for the umpteenth time and she squeezes him.  He barely stirs.  “Oh, baby, my arm has gone to sleep and please don’t wake up but I am going to disentangle it. You stay there in your dreams which I hope are about me and I’ll go make some coffee."
     Suzy who had spent almost a year in Le etat d’France at Le Cordon Bleu quietly baked a breakfast pastry that she would guarantee to chase the night demons of despair away from Fry—at least for now.  She French pressed a small carafe of strong newly roasted and ground coffee and poured herself one.  She sat on the couch and watched the sleeping man on her floor.
     The esters of the kitchen chemistry assaulted Fry’s nose at 7.05.  His eyes opened in anticipation of the smell of fresh baked pastry and coffee and was further assaulted by kisses from Suzy.
    “Good morning sleepy head.  I just poured my third cup of coffee.  Can I bring you some or would you like to sit at the table or outside on the patio?”
     Fry looked at the sunny morning.  “Please, can we have our breakfast together outside?”
     “Anything you desire of me, sir, you shall have.”
     "Anything will wait for a few minutes.  Your coffee and whatever that wonderful bakery smell I must have now.”
     Her patio looked down on Madison Square Park: much nicer and larger than its namesake in Fry’s day and now hidden in the ruins of old New York.  They sat at a small round blue metal table in matching seats forty some feet higher than the tall trees in the park.  They watched children run and play and the continuous air traffic; the sun felt lovely on their skin.  Their toes were stroking each other’s inner thighs.  Fry wiped his crumbs from the plate with his finger and moved it to the mouth and finished the last of his coffee.  
     “Before we talk, Fry, I want to make love with you on the living room floor where we lay last night but first things first: another cup of coffee and one more pastry; please hand me your cup and plate.”
     After the third light rap on Fry’s door followed by silence, Leela brought her fist to bear.  She then put a healthy kick into the door; the wall shook and dust settled from the ceiling lights.  The door was thrown open admitting to view a sleepy and p.o.ed Bender.  “Ya know, lame brain, you have a real knack of getting on my bad side.”
     “Bender, do you have another side?”
     Bender opened his midsection, reached in and pushed a blue button:  At the tone, the time is…“Too friggin’ early!!, Big Boots!  Now why don’t you point your tits the other way from here and make like a shooting star—illuminating the dog-damned darkness and letting the rest us get back to sleep!”
    “If you’re holding out for some beauty rest, you’re barking up the wrong tree, can-man.”
     “Spare us your wit, boobs-for-brains, you’re a quart low.”
     “Hey, I really am sorry, I woke you.  I’m always sorry when I have to talk to you, but I wanted to see Fry.”
     “You really didn’t think you’d wake him after that sexual attack on my door?  Even if I had sucked all his blood out him last night, your gentle rap would have awakened him.  The Skin-tube did not come home last night; I assumed you had had a hand-job in his disappearance.”  
     “Not at all.  You sure he’s not in bed?”
     “Blondie, you are welcome to look under his bed if you want but when you lean over, I am going to push something up that fat butt of yours.”
     “God damn it Bender, that did it……you really think it’s fat?  Look, I said I was Sorry.      
     "Would you please look again or at least let me do it.
     “Ok, fine.  Go check.  Better look in my bed too.  I was humpin’ something last night and I hope it wasn’t my Raggedy Ann doll”
     “Bender!  He’s not in either bedroom or the bathroom or your closet.”
     "Gee, where have I heard that before?”
      “Don’t you care he’s on the street somewhere…in tears, maybe…depressed…cold…wet…lost?
     "If I was the person who had jacked him around, then I would care.  A little late for feeling this way, aren’t we?  And Bender slammed the door in her face and he threw the extra dead-bolts and headed back to bed.
     Leela sank to the hallway floor and burst into tears.
   Fry watched Suzy reach for the coffee carafe.  Odd, there was a small red dot just above her nose.  Huh, I had no idea she was Hindi.  I swear I didn’t see that tilak yesterday; maybe it’s a holiday today.  Fry glanced at a sparrow that landed on the railing and then took flight again.  Suzy was moving her head but the tilak was gone.  But there was a red dot on her breast.  Is that a bug; maybe a scale insect—do they fly?  He leaned his head forward and started to reach out.
   Suzy was watching Fry; she suddenly looked at the balcony next door and the upper floors.  “Fry!  Are you going to unbutton my blouse out here or is this just a caress?”
   His hand stopped just shy of her breast and blouse button; the red dot had vanished.
   “You had a red dot on you.  I was just trying to see if it was a scale insect.”
“Scale?  In the Coccoidea?”
     “Uh, no.  It was on your blouse, first on your forehead and then your breast.”
     “That’s an insect family, er, super-family that scale insects are in.  What did it look like; how big was it?”
     “It was a red dot, maybe a quarter inch.”
“That’s too big for a scale although you’re right, some do look like red dots.  They’re about half that size at most.  And the females are immobile and males, since they are seldom needed are rare but I think you would have noticed a pair of wings on the males.  Sorry, if I got jumpy.  I just didn’t know how many people were watching but you know, thinking about it, what difference would it have made anyway.  She reached, took Fry’s hand and put it on her breast.  That is hardly obscene, is it?”
     “Not in the least.  Just your basic PDA: No worse than this.”  He got up, put his arms around her and kissed her.
     “Exactly and inside you’re welcome to unbutton any button you want whenever the mood strikes you, now, coffee?”
     “You know, maybe that was just a reflection.  It made me think of light somehow.  When I first saw I thought of a Hindu tiluk; I just got confused from there.  Sorry.”
     “I think I liked my idea of your intentions better.”
     “I don’t know.  As much as I think about your breasts and how beautiful they are and how much I want to hold them and kiss them, it’s probably good I think about something else some of the time, even scales.
     "Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.  Fry, I love the way you make me laugh.  You are very, very good for me."  She refilled Fry’s coffee cup and put another pastry on his plate.  "Do you want more orange juice or sausages?"
     "No, thank you.  Just your wonderful pastry."
     "Oh, I am glad you liked it.  We can experiment with that simple recipe, if you’d like, tomorrow.  Don’t tell me now; let me assume you’ll be here tomorrow morning so I can smile all day today.  You know, that park used to be the site of the first MSG.  Not the cube, the first garden.  I don’t know what Garden you knew but it would have been far from here."
     "My Garden?  You figured out who I am—which Fry?"
    She looked at him, put her coffee cup to her lips and sucked loudly.  Suzy stood.  “Be back in a sec.”
    Fry watched her go into the apartment, grab a box from her desk, and return to him.
    "You know, I like the fact that you didn’t rise just now when I stood or that you don’t open doors for me and you’re able to cut into a monologue I’m having with you.  Yet you treat me with respect and are kind and gentle and unassuming.  Everything I thought you’d be.  This is yours.  I cleaned them up a little from your soaked jeans while you were in never-never land.  Yes, that Fry.  You’re the composer of my favorite piece of music.”
     Fry opened the finely crafted cedar box.  His upteen letters to Leela he had written but never sent to her were neatly tied with a pale blue ribbon.  A dried rose and several sprigs of lavender lay on top.  He smiled at the same time a tear welled in his eye.
     “She must be so very special for you to write music that beautiful.  I would die for that act of love and privilege.  But it didn’t do any good, did it?”
     “She was the second person I saw in this city that day I woke up—probably starving for food, drink and personal contact.  She chased me all over both cities—new and old.  She was my first friend.  It always seemed like we were destined for each other, like we fit together—two broken people forming one whole normal entity.  But every time I got close, I would either screw up or she would push me away.  So I guess we aren’t destined.  To complete this little dance: she asked me to marry her yesterday and I got scared.  I was terrified I was going to get hurt a lot worse than bad.  That’s when I started to walk…in the rain.  That’s when I ran into you—literally.  The answer is yes.  Yes, she is special.  How much of that was because I couldn’t have her, I don’t know.  Maybe it was because she had been hurt much more that I had which I always thought was the limit.  Her parents abandoned her as a baby—an act of love as it turns out but kids would never consider that possibility.  She was a freak with one eye and purple hair.  She grew up thinking she from an alien race—the only one of her kind on earth which was part of the act of love I just referred to.  She grew up in the minimum security Cookieville Orpanarium, a place without much love or attention to any of its warped little wards.  She worked hard her whole life trying to prove herself to somebody—maybe herself.  She’s accomplished a lot and yet she feels no pride in it.  She is a good friend and although she can be hard on the people she likes—much harder than others—she is much harder on herself.  I’ve lost count the number of times she has saved my life. Sometimes she is so sweet; the sun rises in the sky and the birds burst in song.  Sometimes she touches me like I am special to her.  She kisses me like I was her brother.  She is very beautiful—in her unique way: not like you where you will average on a scale of one to ten from ten normal men around 9.8.  She would have a rating of five with half ten and half 0.  I’ve loved her since that first day but usually I manage to push her away usually within hours.  I realize two months ago she gave me a quest although I didn’t recognize it as such at the time.  I successfully slew her dragon and she accused me of not doing so.  It broke me and I fled.  She must have realized otherwise and she tracked me down. She found me in a suicide booth.  She asked me to marry her and I suddenly grew afraid of her deserting me again and I didn’t what to say.  I have three days—two now to think about it.  I’m pleased you loved my music but you should know I never wrote it; it wrote itself."
     "She was your Euterpe."
     "I wanted her to be more than a muse; I should have been satisfied she was that to me."
     "I believe you are mine.  My muse.  I would not have heard that music in my head without you.  And yes, I also want you to be more than that.  But I am delighted Eurtope took such a pleasurable form for me.  If all that arises from my ecstasy is music; I am blessed.  But may I fight for you, Fry.  Is it fair that I use pastry, wine and weed, my body and my music to prejudice you against my rival."
     "You could win, if that’s what you want, by demanding I choose now; I would without question reach for you…only you."
     "No, like you, I would be afraid that you would change your mind.  I want it to be forever.  Use your entire two days and choose the better woman for you; choose me.  Not to influence you, by any means, but come inside with me and lie on the floor.  I want to show you how much I love you."
     ""Shouldn’t I give Leela the same opportunity in the interest of fairness."
     "In the interest of fairness, indeed:  She’s had ten years to demonstrate her love to you.  If she hasn’t done an adequate yet job of that as of yet, I don’t believe that’s either of our concern.  Use your imagination based on what you already know about her.  If you want to give her more, that’s your decision but don’t ask me whether I like it or not."
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #25 on: 06-08-2010 20:31 »
« Last Edit on: 06-11-2010 06:01 »

     “Hey, it’s my old college-sweetheart, Leela.  Gosh, Leela, I haven’t seen you since what?  Yesterday.  Of course you didn’t buy anything but I can tell you plan on rectifying that oversight moments from now.  How the hell you been?  You find Fry yesterday in that downpour?”
     She reached the bar, slid on a barstool, looked at Jimmy a moment and then broke down.
     “Hey, hey. Not during happy hour.  What the hell did I say?  You okay?
     Leela sniffed back her tears and blew her nose.  “I’m sorry to put a damper on the festivities of all your patrons—they both looked around and exploded into laughter.  I was worried about Fry.  Maybe for good reason as it turned out but I did find him.  We separated and he didn’t come home last night.”
     “Hey if I lived with that mangy robot, Bender, I wouldn’t come home either or were talking about your place; there I would return happily back to two, three, four times a night.  But I wouldn’t worry about it.  He probably hooked up with a good lookin’ girl.”
     “She put her head down and started sobbing again.”
     “Leela, this is not like you.”
     “I’ve never been in love before.”
     “Fry???  No crap???  Wow, I don’t see you guys for two weeks and all the planets are lining up.  Better go home and read Revelations.  So what’s it like lovin’ the red-haired doofus?”
     “Horrible.  I have never been so miserable my entire life before.”
     “Yep, that’s how it was with my sweetheart too.  Of course it still is but she doesn’t have red hair.  So has Mr. Fry requited your true love?  As if I need to ask that.”
     “Actually, that’s a good question.  When I asked him to marry me.  He said he didn’t know.”
     “We talkin’ about the same Fry, right?  That’s not even remotely possible.”
     “Oh, he didn’t say ‘no’—I don’t think—he wanted to think about it for three days.”
     “Still, that’s a stretch.  Any possibility that’s a joke?”
     “I’m going to kill him if it is.”
     “Look, I just tapped a keg of the IP you like.  Howbout one on the house?”
     “That’s sweet of you Jimmy but I want to look for Fry so I can quit worrying about him.”
     ‘Hey, it’ll all work out.  You kids plan on having your rehearsal dinner in here and the beer’s on me as long as you invite me to the wedding and I get to kiss the bride more than once.”
     “Deal but that last part is between you and Fry.  For my part, I look forward to making out with you.”
     “Crap.  Every ER in the city, and all the bars and taverns that Fry would know about and even some of the gay ones he wouldn’t.  Guess I should go check PE™ and his apartment one more time and then go home.  I gotta get some sleep with a flight tomorrow morning.  Aw crap!!
     Leela drug herself through the doors into the conference room at 07.59hours.  Everyone, including Fry, was there sitting, looking at her.  Fry??-at this time of the morning?
Hermes complained, “Great Queen of Kingston: Leela, you look like warmed over dog crap.  I can’t have you flying an expensive starship on an important delivery in your shape.”
     “Good, you can fly the sonofabitch; I’m going back to bed.”
     She stopped by Fry and whispered in his ear.  “God, I missed you yesterday and am so glad to see you here, safe and sound.  Are you okay.?”
     “Peachy keen, Leela!  Why?”  
     “Oh take a flying leap.”
     “Ok, let’s get started.  The professor is taking a nap so…”
     “Wha…?  I don’t sleep on the job you Jamaican rail-driver.  Go back to pentupalate forms.  Good news, everyone: we have a special delivery of cotton candy for the lunar park.  If you deliver it in the contracted-ten minutes, there is a bonus for everyone and we all get to go back to our naps.  Let get moving, troops: it’s to hell and back”
     “Oh lord, he’s been watching old Audie Murphy feature films again.  One solid week of drivel I see coming our way.  Fry, speaking of Audie Murphy.  I want you to ride shotgun.  Now get your jeeps loaded and out of here by highnoon.”
     “Aye, aye, Captain!”
     “Hey, Lila, great landing.  And that’s got to be the fastest successful delivery ever.  We got anything scheduled for tomorrow?”
     “Not yet, why don’t you call me around seven.  Or you know, you could just come over and we could mess around and then you wouldn’t have to call.”
     “No thanks, Leela.  I’ll call you.  Have a great rest of the day.”
     “Yeah, you too.”
     “Hi.  I missed you.  You miss me too?”
     “Silly, you know I did.  How much did you miss me?”
     “’Bout this much.”
     “Wow, what a coincidence.  The same length as your erection.  I am so happy to see you and not just for that, either.  I was wondering what I could fix you for dinner?
     “You think?  Ok, you talked me into it: afterwards.  Do you have any requests?”
     “Something from another state?  Maybe Κράτος της Greece or Provincia dell'Italia.”
     “Not l'état de la France?”
     “Français would be ok but I would prefer Greek.”
     “Okey dokey, Ελληνικά it is.  How about Antipasto: baby spinach, peppercini, pitted kalamatas, thinly sliced cucumbers, very thin onion rings, marinated mushrooms, yellow sweet peppers, and marinated artichoke hearts, salami, and anchovies w/ olive oil, lemon & pepper and feta of course.  Seconda:  trimmed and marinaded leg of lamb en brochette with mushrooms and onions, spanakopita, bread flamed with kasseri and lemon and a nice crusty bread, olive oil, and balsamic, a nice young retsina, baklava, baked apples and cinnamon and cloves and custard with caramelized sugar and oozo and of course an oozo on the rocks.
     “Oh my god, you and that.  That’s way too many desserts.
     “Good, I can have your baked apple, then.
     “Can I do anything to help?
     “Can you play the piano, Fry?
     “Uh, no.  I never learned.  I don’t play much of any normal instruments.
     “You wrote that music without an instrument?  Entirely in your head?
     “Uh, no, I used a holophoner.”
     “Ohm’gosh!  Seriously!  If I borrow one, will you play for me.”
     “I’m a little out of practice.”
     “It’s like a bicycle, Fry.”
     “It’s like falling off a bicycle, Suzy.  But, I’ll try, if you don’t make fun of me.”
     “Fry!  You’re not serious are you?  I would never do that.  If we couldn’t laugh together, we wouldn’t laugh at all.  Anything you try at for me will be special to me and I’ll just love you all the more for it.  I’ve never heard anyone play the holophoner at Michigan State in the music program or at the Kennedy-Kit© Center or Carnegie-BurgerKing™Hall for that matter.  I tried to get tickets to hear you play but they were always sold out, even the SRO.  Just a scale or two would thrill me.”
     “That would be about my limit, now.”
     “There were rumors you made a deal with the Devil to be able to play that well.  I never believed that or the “Paganini myth.  Maybe the Robert Johnson story at the crossroads in Georgia or was it Mississippi?
     “How ‘bout Mr. Applegate’s contract with Joe Hardy?
     “I believe that, but Joe wasn’t a musician, just an old outfielder.”
     “Joe Hardy was a young left fielder.  Joe Boyd was the old man”.
     “You’re right.”
     “And you’re right it was not a musician but it was a musical.”
     “That was when all American musical theatre was fun.  I always wished Leslie Caron with her lovely legs could have played Lola.”
     “You would have made a lovely Lola.”
     “You think?  You think I can get you to do anything I want”
     “Just about.”
     “Damn it.  That little difference makes all the difference, doesn’t it?”
     “I’m still thinking, Suzy.  I know I love you.”
     “But do you love Leela, too?  And do you love her more?”
     “What do you think I’m thinking about.”
     “Close enough.  If I can’t play the piano, is there anything else I can do.”
     “Please sit there, watch me prepare your dinner especially made with love for you and have some of this retsina and bread and olive oil.  Do you want to see me in my toque, jacket and ducks with scarf.”
     “My pleasure, literally, Lola.  I prefer your present naked state but if you’re afraid of splatters, then please.”
     “I wish.  And I want to please you.  Chefs live for burns and cuts and the complements on the shapeliness of their tits.”
     “Maybe I do too, I mean the wish part.”
     “May I comment that your nipples are highly suckable.”
      “I can provide for you better than that.”
     “You certainly can and I shall make full use of it.”
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #26 on: 06-09-2010 18:48 »
« Last Edit on: 06-10-2010 20:51 »

    At 14.04hours Leela was wide awake, worrying about Fry saying no; about herself when she heard the word ‘no’; about whether she could raise a child; no matter how beautiful, cute, or intelligent by herself—even if that was by herself for approximately half the time; whether Fry would be able to fulfill his promise to be a daddy to the best of his abilities and exactly what these abilities are in the first place.  It hit her that kind of lack of trust is what caused a lot of her present worries at this point.  ‘What if you had accepted Fry at his word the very first time and had let him grow into the commitment of marriage; let him choose to be a responsible adult.’
     ‘You’re right but what’s your point.  It’s moot now, isn’t it?’
     ‘Not if you’re not trusting him.’
     ‘I am trusting him.  I’ve asked him to marry me.  I’ve asked him to become a responsible husband with a child on the way and a woman who will love him.  If that is not trust; I don’t know what is.’
     ‘It’s up to him.  I know he loves me.  At least he used to love me.  No, he still loves me.  And there is nothing I really can do to influence his decision.’  ‘So why are you upset?  It’s out of your hands; you’ve done all you can do.  Goodcan go to sleep.  Less than fours hours from now I have to get up and fly to god knows where.  Yeah but the automated pilot can give you at least an hour nap.  And maybe Fry’s tired too.  Maybe he’d lie with me in my bunk and after a little or a lot of fooling around, we can take a nap together.  With his arms around me.  With him breathing into my ear.  Okay, then.  Alright:  We got a plan.  Go back to sleep, now.’
She dreamt of the automated pilot refusing to cooperate and Fry getting frustrated and walking out of thw ship into space; she was at a porthole watching him drift off getting smaller and smaller and finally just disappearing into a star that went nova.  She woke up groggy, exhausted and depressed.
     “Leela, I’m sending Dr. Zoidberg…” “Hurray, I am of use.”  “…in the place of Fry as your delivery boy.  Fry came in at 06.45hours and saw the staff doctor who pronounced him too ill to make the delivery today.  Dr. Zoidberg will examine him again tomorrow but I don’t suspect him of making that speedy of a recovery but then I’m not a qualified physician.”
     “Neither is anyone else in this room”, grumbled Leela   “Zoidberg, exactly what did Fry promise you for exchange for that medical diagnosis?  The last time Fry got up that early was when Mexico was playing Australia in the World Cup and he had a bet riding on it he couldn’t afford to lose.  Of course he should have told Australia this, it might have made a difference.”
     “Young lady, what you are suggesting is ill conceived.  Fry offered me a lot of things this morning but I turned him down saying his friendship was enough for me to make an honest professional decision on his state of health.”  
     “Uh huh, right.  That and a case of canned tuna.  I just happened to notice the empty cans in the trash bin where you take naps on the way in this morning.”
     “Obviously and understandably a coincidence.  I am surprised you are not more worried about the health of your colleague, Philip Fry. I have a get well card in my office if you would care to sign it and maybe include a couple of dollars in for a get well wish.”
     “Has Bender been teaching you various ploys to milk money out of me?  Go stick that stethoscope wrapped around your get well card up your cloaca.  By god, you better be ready to work if you set one claw on that ship.  From lift off to delivery to home again; I’ll have something for you every minute of the trip, you can bet your cephalothorax on it.”
     “Lovely meal, Suzy”  Can I do the dishes and clean up the kitchen?
     “No, the maid will get it the morning.”
     “Seriously, you have a maid come?  How many times a week?”
     “She’s a live-in, silly.  She’s me.”
     “That’s not fair, you worked hard on that meal.  And all I did was watch you.”
     “Which was the whole point.  Didn’t you know that?  I am trying to influence your decision.  Once you’re married to me, you will cook all the meals and you will become the live-in maid.  I’m thinking of short shorts with a little apron over it and an open shirt and you shall attend me in my bedroom where you will sleep at my feet.
     “How short?”
      “Right to here so I can get a good handful whenever I’m in the mood like right now.”
     “I’m in the mood for love/ Simply because you’re near me/ Funny but when you're near me,/ I'm in the mood for love./ Heaven is in your eyes,/ Bright as the stars we're under,/ Oh, is it any wonder?/ I'm in the mood for love./ Why stop to think of whether/ This little dream might fade,/ We´ve put our hearts together/ - Now we are one, I'm not afraid./ If there's a cloud above,/ If it should rain, we'll let it./ But for tonight forget it,/ I'm in the mood for love.”
     “Fry, you have a lovely tenor.  Would you sing in my choral group with me on Wednesday practice?  I’ll make it worth your while.”
**28.04.04……tick,tick,tick,tick**  Twenty-eight weeks, four days, four hours:  Two down, one more days to decide the rest of your life
     “Come in.”
     “Fry, come on in.  Sit down.  Talk to your friend, Dr. Zoidberg.”
     “Dr. Zoidberg, why do lobsters turn red when they’re in a cooking pot.”
     “Ah, good question and one close to my heart.  No not that heart, another one.  Lobsters turn red naturally out of embarrassment.  Lobsters are highly intelligent, you know, and when one is tricked by a trickster promising a comfortable warm bath maybe with water jets and young female lobsters to do your bidding, et cetera, and when they realize this has been a ruse to get them into a compromising situation where embarrassing pictures would be taken of them…well naturally, they are embarrassed.  Would you not be?  We all would.  I have been offered this inducement many times in my long life and I just say, ‘phi on you’ or sometimes ‘chi on you and your family’ and when I have no patience at all, I say, ‘psi on you, on yours, and your puppy dog too.’  It tells them that I know what they are up to and they should try their tricks on a less intelligent, less worldly lobster than I.  So you see, it’s just embarrassment.”
     “Wow, that’s really amazing.  You know yesterday when I suggested I might have that bug that’s been buggin’ so many people lately?  Well, today, I think I got it worse and maybe you could make another expert examination and tell me the truth; I can take it, Doc.”
     “Hmmm.  You know young Fry, I was happy to make that examination you refer to and I very much enjoyed your case of tuna you provided me out of the goodness of your, alas, single heart.  But despite being clever and not letting on we had certain arrangements, Miss Leela became suspicious.  I did not respond to her threats, indeed I did not.  However she did offer one case of tuna and a jar of pickled herring to refuse to examine you this morning.  I assured her, she could deduct that gift from her taxes as a medical expenditure.”
     “Ha!  I thought Leela might pull something like that.  I just happened to bring with me one case of tuna, one jar of baby clams in baby clam juice and a can of smoked oysters which I have heard is a great delicacy among lobsters who dine at Delmonico’s and Sardi’s.  What say you Doctor?  Of course this is not a bribe, this is an offering to the medical gods since I fear of far worse tidings than the benevolent one you offered yesterday.”
     “You realize that I going to face the wrath of that Cyclops when I renege on our deal.  I doubt she will yield to superior logic or even compassion.  If I was to face said wrath, with a small gift of say 4.gold, that would be of great comfort and inducement.”
     “Four huh.  How about two?”
     “We should split the difference but not the tuna.  Make it an even three and it should provide me an additional exoskeleton to face her ire with.”
     “Three, done:  one, two, and three.  And your diagnosis?”
     “Any fool of a doctor can see that you are sick.  Take the day off on company sick leave.  Take two aspirin and call me in the morning.”
     “What do I call you?”
     “A friend, of course.”
     “Not trying to turn your pretty little head or anything, but do you know that you are the best lover I ever had.  Not that I had that many, but still:  best is best.”
     “If you couldn’t inspire your former lovers to greater heights, then they were either insensitive fools or fools with no fire in their souls nor love in their eyes.”
     “Hmmmm, you are sweet.  May I ask if you have formulated any thoughts or would that be intruding into the process of picking the princess?”  
     “You were born a princess, your majesty; I could only make you what you already are.  And I can share my thoughts if they are accessible to anyone but me.  I know I love you.  I think I love Leela as well.  I cannot imagine leaving you.  I just bribed the company doctor to offer his opinion I was too sick to work.  I want to walk you to work.  Come in later to have you serve me coffee and pie and then to walk you home.  If you’ll let me, I’ll fix you dinner tonight as well as clean up.  But by not going to work, I purposefully avoid being with Leela, the woman I supposedly love as much as I do you.  How is that possible?  At the moment I am trying to figure how I feel if I could see neither of you, ever again.  Could I do without one but not the other.  Would one break my heart, would the other destroy my reason for living.  When I realized I could not kill myself two days ago I was afraid of what I would I do when Leela rejected me again.  I had no answer and I was deathly afraid of the possibility.  There are times I wonder if either of you would let have both if neither felt threatened by such an arrangement.”  
     “You mean Leela and I share you.  On Mon thru Wednesday you would live with Leela and Thursday through Sunday, you would be mine?  If you were thinking of a ménage trios where we would all live together like a baby commune, I don’t know.  I would not want to sleep next to a woman if she was on the other side of you or not but maybe with separate bedrooms if Leela and I could get along or be friends, then that might be fun and an adventure.  It would, I guess be like a fundamentalist Muslim or Hindi family with multiple wives but the wives would have to like each other and be comfortable sharing you.  It would be easier for me anyway with the former.”
     “I note you gave yourself four days.”  
     “Well, I guess if Leela was uncomfortable with that we each could have three days and you could have one to recuperate from trying to satisfy two active and demanding women.  How would you feel about that?”
     “I guess without thinking it is a man’s fantasy.  But I noticed the first night we were together, there were two times I faked coming because I couldn’t.  Does that disappoint you?”
     “Silly, you didn’t think I could tell.  What doesn’t come back out of me that you put in says something.  But you know I was fantastically surprised at your vigor and capacity.  What was important to me was that you had an erection every single time I wanted you and more important when you came, you just didn’t roll over and say see you tomorrow.  You stayed available for me, for me to feel as wonderful as you.  I really like turning you on, my prince, but I like more when you reciprocate.  Maybe some women do not need to be cuddled and stroked after making love but I do and the fact that did without being asked or even threatened speaks volumes of you to me.  I already told you that you were fantastic and better than all my other lovers but I never said just how wonderful you are.  I can’t believe Leela has willfully deprived herself of you.  She is a silly bitch.  But silly or not, I don’t think somehow she would be willing to share you fifty-fifty or any combination except all for her and none for me.  However, I would be willing to sit down and discuss it, the three of us and try to work it out.  But ultimately that’s your decision.  What she wants; what I want is immaterial.  You are going to get what you want and I hope it’s part of me or all of me.  I love you, Fry.  I don’t want to lose you so yes; I would be willing to share.”
     “You know I don’t believe you a minute when you say you are not trying to influence me.”
     “Fry, I don’t love fools and only a fool would believe that with the stakes this high.  You are that important to me.  Please, don’t forget it.”
    “Does loving more than one person seem wrong to you?  Do you think I should be rationally be able to quantify this in some calculus and come up with one answer.”
     “Oh, very much so.  I’m already married and I love my husband as much as I love you.”
     “You already married?  Uh, I don’t under…I…”
MORE tomorrow on scale insects and other useful bugs I studied in entomology too many years ago to remember.
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #27 on: 06-10-2010 20:35 »
« Last Edit on: 06-11-2010 06:04 »

     “Would you feel more relieved if I said:  Technically:  My husband has been missing for six years.  On the seventh, he will be declared legally dead and I shall be a widow.  My friends were very disappointed in me that I did not request either a divorce or an annulment but somehow I felt that a reflection on him and he did nothing wrong except get lost.”
     “He was a sergeant in the Parthos War. He went out on patrol with his company and no one came back.  There was no body, no dog-tags, no rumor.  The Parthians were not taking prisoners; he is not a prisoner of war in some backwater that will come dragging home years later.  Did he and others desert?  Where would they go in that godforsaken barren world?  But yes, that’s possible he and others fled and are hiding even though no one is looking for them anymore.  More than likely Parthian wolves and vultures and the millions of beetles, think  the dermestidae and  oh, the silphidae—can’t you just see Nicrophorus tomentosus at work as well as the diptera larvae and I can't forget the essential bacteria needed to break down my dead husband--I seldom ever saw: we consummated our marriage one friggin' time and I didn't even get an orgasm out of it and my man finished by himself masturbating under the sheet: pretty special, huh?  We weren't even drunk--back down into dust and organic chemicals from whence he came.  I mourned seven months—black veil and everything.  I still felt cheated.  But on the first day of the eighth month, enough is enough: I went on living.  I haven’t wanted to marry anyone until now and when you finally ask me, I shall obtain an emergence military divorce.  The two grunts that visited me--nice boys and I didn't make it very easy for them--told me he was missing in action and there was hope.  I asked "What are the percentages?"  They didn't know.  I said,"don't you think you should if you're going to use that useless platitude?"  I broke down there and didn't stop crying for a week.  I think it’s rotten that I never received any benefits from the veteran’s administration or even an I’m sorry or something from the government but then I really didn’t need those but some women would surely have.  It PO’s me greatly especially since I’m a decorated veteran and a combatant in the Parthian War myself: two silver stars, a naval cross and a purple heart with two oak clusters.  Do you know how hard it is to get battlefield advancement to Sergeant in the Marine Corps?  I paid my dues damn it and no one cared.”
     Fry’s heels clicked and he saluted her.  “Sergeant, respectfully ask permission to tell you how sorry I am and grateful for your service and sacrifice.  It’s soldiers like you that make me proud to be an earthican and I hope I shall be able to offer you comfort and ease in your sorrow and pain now and in the future.  Permission to kiss the Sergeant, Maam?”
     “Oh, Fry.  That’s terribly silly and sweet of you but I want you to know how profoundly good it was to hear you say it to me.  I don’t care if you were serious or not; it just felt good.  I love you.”
     “We’ve got one more block before IHOPe™.  Fry, I don’t care if you want to makeout on the bench outside the restaurant or stand in the door way and grab my tits but it might make it just a little easier on me if you’d kiss me and do whatever else you want with me here.  The other waitresses will be on me all day if they see one hint of a boyfriend letalone a lover.  Is that ok?”
     Fry kissed her hard for more than a minute, released her but still held onto her.  “Darling, I would be willing to do anything you wanted and this is a most reasonable request.  Of course.  I’ll kiss you once more here and I’ll pick you up here at 4:30 this afternoon at this same corner.”  
     Suzy was smiling and looking into Fry’s eyes.  But she noticed a red dot slide across his face and stop in the middle of his forehead.  She pushed him hard and yelled, “Stay down and take cover”.  She rolled and came up kneeling next to a fire hydrant looking up where her back had just been.  “Stay down, damn it.  That red dot you saw yesterday.  That’s from a sniper scope.”  She continued to scan windows and fire escapes and tops of buildings: there was nothing.  “God damn it.  What the fudge is goin on? …**!!  Fry!  Does that purple haired girl-friend of yours have a rifle with a scope?”  She looked once more and stood and turned.
     Fry was kneeling on the sidewalk next to a trash can.  He slowly stood.  “No.  None that I ever saw but I don’t think she would even think of doing that.”
     “Would you bet your life on that?  Would you bet my life?  I told you the stakes are high.  Maybe they are high enough for her to want to make sure.”
     “I…I…I don’t think so.  You wouldn’t, would you?”  
     “No, but I have known a lot of people who would.  And somebody out there is at least thinking about it.  There is no way those two quarter inch red dots are not connected.  I just can’t tell where they lead to or from.  Just now, that dot was on you, not me.  I can see why see she would want to shoot me, but why you?  Unless she knows or thinks she knows you are going to choose me and not her and then, maybe it’s both of us.  Maybe it’s just an exercise to see if she can get the opportunity.  That makes more sense--a lot more sense—she had plenty of time and opportunity to do if she was going to do it.”
     “I would not have thought that was possible but then her asking me to marry her…I would have told you that was impossible.”
     “Fry, sweetheart, I want to ask you something.  If you say no, that’s ok; I probably could do it just as easily and maybe just as effectively.  Would you please talk to Leela today.  Ask her how she’s doing, what’s she thinking or worried about; see what she says.  And ask her about what you were asking me—the two of us sharing you.  See what she does.  Maybe that’ll ease her mind; maybe that’s a win-win solution.  Would you do that for me?”
     “I can do that.  It’s something I should do anyway.  Don’t worry, Love.  It’ll be ok; I can feel it; I can feel happiness, contentment and love just waiting for me for around the corner; at long last, love has arrived!”
     Fry sat down at Suzy’s computer.  He punched in his passwords and got the PE mainframe.  There were no deliveries scheduled for today or tomorrow.  He punched in the registry of firearms for earthicans.  Leela was listed for her blaster she carried on deliveries and old obsolete blaster that would surely be hard to get parts and power cells for but neither could be fitted for a scope.  He pulled up pictures and descriptions of sniper rifles and scopes.  Experts could make kills with one shot at close to one mile.  One mile, how many people are there within a mile radius of me in NNY?  He had told Suzy he would talk to Leela today.  ‘Damn it, I know it’s not her; I know it.  I can’t have that conversation with her if I don’t believe it.’  Then he thought of what she had asked him.  ‘Would you bet my life on it?’  He used the computer to call Leela at her apartment.
     “Hi.  It’s me.  If you you’re not selling something and you want to talk to me, wait about ten seconds when this message ends and you’ll hear two tones.  Tell me whom you are.  How I can get a hold of you?  Why I would want to do that?  I’ll get back to you and then again, maybe I won’t.  But ask yourself, Do I feel lucky?  Well, do you, punk?  Do you feel lucky?  Have a nice day.  Byeeee”        
     C…D#    Hi, Leela, it’s me, Fry.  I just wanted to talk…”
     “Fry!  I’ve been worried sick about you.  Are you ok?
     “I’m fine, Leela.  I…”
     “But you’re not really sick are you.  You just wanted some time to think.”
     “No, I’m not sick.  I’m sorry you’ve been…”
     “Oh, thank god for that.  I have been worried and I just plain missed you.  But you’re sure you are ok.”
     “Listen, if we could meet, say for coffee, you could see for yourself and we could talk, if you wanted to, that is.”
     “Fry, I’d love to have coffee with you and I would like to talk with you.  Where?”
     “Um, I don’t know.  Would you like to go some place nice or …”
     “Fry, it doesn’t matter.  The lunchroom at the Orphanarium would be lovely with you there.  I just want to see you.  Just a pick a place that easy for you to get to.  I’ll be there.”
     “Ok, how about O’Zorgnax’s?”
     “Great,  let me just change and brush out my pony tail.  I’ll be there in less than a half an hour, ok?”
     “Half an hour.  I’ll order us some beers and brats and extra pickles, ok?”
     “That would be lovely.  See you soon.  Bye.  It is really good, Fry, to hear your voice.  Bye.”
     “This is a woman who wants to kill me?  Nah.  Maybe I should get a corner table and watch who comes in the door.  I know what you’re thinking.  Was it five shots or six.  Well, ask yourself, Leela, Do I feel lucky?  Well, do you, Leela?  Do you feel lucky?  Ha ha ha ha ha ha ah.    Ha, that felt good.  Ok, O’Zorgnax’s.”
     “Hey, Jimmy!”
  “Fry, me red-headed doofus friend!  How the hell are you?  So I hope you are done with think,  thank thunk and you chose Leela, right?  Tell me I’m right  I’m not a young man, Fry.  I only got five, six minutes to live.  Make my day and tell it’s Leela?”  
     “Hey, Jimmy, you know I love Leela.  Hell, I’ve always loved her.”
     “Exactly!  And that is exactly what I told that poor, crying purple-haired lovely lass:  He loves you, Leela.  He always has.  He’s always going to.  And you know, the poor girl stopped crying and realized there was hope: there was Fry.  Am I right?”
     “You’re always right, Jimmy.  There’s always hope.  And I hope, you’ll bring us a couple of india pales and brats with extra sauerkraut and two of  the biggest garlic pickles you got in that big glass jar under your bar.”
     “Us?  You and…?”
     “Leela.  The love of my life.  Who else?  She’s going to be meeting me here in a minute or two—just about the time you slap those brats on the table  in the corner and I’m going to feed your juke box.  I hope you got those damn Wayne Newtons’ and  Ms. Whiney’s crap off of there and put some Buddy Hollys on.”
     “Buddy who?  Ah ha ha ha ah ah ah…you should have just seen your face…ha ha ha.  Actually no, but I did find some Chuck Berrys and six, count ‘em, six Lady Days and yes she is backed up by the late great Lester Young so start feeding that poor machine.  You want pints or halfs?
     “Jimmy, you know Leela always drinks IPs in pints; give me whatever you want.  I’m easy.”
     “Fry!  Leela promised I could kiss her as much as I want if you marry her.  You’re not going to screw this up for me now are you?”
     “Jimmy, when I marry Leela, I’ll let you kiss me as much as you want.  How’s that?”
     “That and a barf sandwich would suit me just fine.  Just fine.  Here, take your pickles and sauerkraut over yourself.  I’ll put your brats on.  When Irish eyes are smiling…and no, Fry.  I’m not giving up the day job.”
     “Hi, Fry.”
     “Hey, Leela!  You look nice.  New dress?”
     “And pearls.  You like them?”
     “You look beautiful in them.  But then you’d look beautiful without them too.  You know that.”
     “I don’t know that.  But, thank you.”
     “You’re welcome.”
     “And you were right, you know.”
     “I was?  About what?”
     “About Christmas eve being wonderfully special.  I don’t think I ever had a better time.  And I know I was never as satisfied as I was with you that night.”
     “Oh Leela, I would have given anything to hear that two some months ago.”
     “Ten weeks, four…no, three days ago?  I am so sorry, Philip.  I would do anything if I could change the clock back.  I treated you unfairly and badly and I should have been jumping up and down telling you how special you are and…and…well, I am sorry.  Please forgive me.
     “I forgive you Leela.  Hell, I forgave you a long time ago.  I never could stay angry with you very long, ever.”
     “Thank you.  So please tell me, how have you been?  What have you been doing?  What have you been thinking about?”
     “Kids!  I have to say it warms my heart to see you two here talking and there’s not a tear in sight.  Here’re your brats.  I kissed them both before I steamed them in beer.  So enjoy.”
     “You know anyone nicer than Jimmy, Leela?”
     “Well then, you forgot yourself you’re a lot nicer than me, Leela and on so many different levels.  And speaking of nice, Leela, I met someone I like.”
     “Uh huh, who is she?”
     “She.  Aren’t you going to tell me you met someone really special.  Someone more special than me.  Isn’t that what you were going to say?  Or am I wrong?”
     “She is special, Leela.  So are you.  I love both of you.”
     “Oh lord”
     “Wait.  Can we talk?”
     “Talk?  About how beautiful I am?  How lovely I am in my pearls?  How I’m pregnant with your baby and you are so lucky to find someone special.  Is that what you want to talk about?”
     “I thought maybe you had matured a little, Fry.”  “Maybe”  “But MAYBE I was wrong.  Am I wrong, Mr. Fry?  What?  I thought you wanted to talk to me, the woman you love, the woman who’s going to have your baby.  What do you want, Fry?”
     “I actually thought I loved both of you.  I thought I could talk to you about whether I could have you and Suzy, like we could be a family, maybe not in the same house, but maybe…”
     “Suzy?  Suzy?  The bitch has a name.  The mystery woman has a name.  She’s special! She’s loved She’s willing to share her man!  She crawls on her belly like a reptile!  She has two eyes!  She has…  What friggin’ color hair does she have, Fry?  I’ll bet you dollars to donuts, it’s not purple, is it?  She does have two eyes, right?  I mean she’s not a freak, is she?  So what normal color of hair does this bitch have?  We all want to know?  Jimmy!  You wanta know what color hair Suzy, the normal looking bitch has, don’t you?”  Fry, god-damn it, tell me!  What color is her hair?”
     “Ha.  I knew it!  Old Suzie, who is loved, who is special, who is friggin’ normal, is F-friggin’ bald, baby!  She has no hair.  No hair under her arms.  None on top either.  Don’t even bother looking between her legs because Suzy is one bald bitch.  Well that was fun.  What do you want to talk about now, Fry?  How much you like to screw the bitch?  But wait, I’ll bet you one thousand semollians, that you like to screw me and Jimmy and bitch equally.  Right?  Am I right, Fry?  Talk to me.
     Jimmy, I’m really sorry.  Here’s fifty.  I wish it was more.  I wished we had trashed your place physically.  I’ll stop in later.  Bye.  Fry did not look over his shoulder but slowly went out the door and closed it gently.  Billie was singing on the juke box that she was a hard woman to love and that she missed her man.
     Good Bye, Fry.  I do love you.  And I am so very, very sorry.  I am happy you found someone normal.  Leela picked up her beer but it fell out of her hand; it poured all down the front of her and pooled before disappearing in her lap; she didn’t seem to notice.  She put her head in hands on the table and cried.
     Jimmy stood behind the bar.  He had tears in his eyes and his mouth was still open.  He stood there wiping the the burr oak bar-top and shaking his head.  He had wiped the fifty dollars off onto the floor as well as seven Slurm dark ale and India pale coasters.    

Near Death Star Inhabitant
Urban Legend
« Reply #28 on: 06-11-2010 04:29 »

lol what a hilarious waste of time
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #29 on: 06-11-2010 17:11 »

reading--even trash like this--is not a waste of time.  The only waste of time is not doing anything.  Sleeping without dreaming is a waste of time.  More of this trash follows forthwithly as soon as I can remember if it is control-c or control-x?
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #30 on: 06-11-2010 17:12 »
« Last Edit on: 06-12-2010 17:16 »

     The diner sitting in section C took out a gold box inlaid with service ribbons, he flipped it against his coffee cup and the top popped open exposing three rows of carefully rolled cigarillos.  If you knew what you were smelling, it would be obvious these were cubanos tobaccos from the one country left in the world that was still not allowed to forget its Marxist past—Castro had died a thousand years ago but it never registered on some people’s radar and continued to be damned by the rest of the ‘civilized and hubrous’ U.S. of the Earth and the home of the Braves.  The man could be arrested for having these tiny cigars in his possession but would be the least of his crimes and besides, he was a highly insulated and protected non-entity.  Jilly, a seventeen year old kid who looked the same age as Suzy brought him his pancakes and carefully arranged the plates, just so, just like she had taught her.  The guy watched her bemusedly.  
     “Sir, I couldn’t help notice your cute little cigarillos.  Uh, we have a no-smoking policy in IHOPe™ and I hope you understand.”
     “That’s ok, I don’t”
     “She smiled, nodded and suddenly looked at him.  “Pardon?”
     “You don’t have to worry about my cognitive abilities.  I understood you completely.  “I refuse, however, to understand your god-damned policy that would prevent a normal peace-loving man from taking a well-earned smoke.  Well-earned in the pursuit of keeping the USofE free and independent.  I had friends of mine die inches from me doing the same god-damned thing so you could tell their children they don’t have the rights that their daddies died for.”  “How about you, do you understand?  He smiled the first time all week—a dazzling perfect display of professional skill of the United States of Earth’s finest dentists and orthodontists who had signed up for eight years of their lives to serve the service at Bethesda Medical Complex.”  
     Jilly started backing up.
     “Now you’re being silly.  There is absolutely no reason why you have to be afraid of me.  Like I said, I am a peace-loving man and unless you or your boss, or the unfortunate pol-lice actually try to enforce that silly rule; you’ll find me as gentle as an old tired pussy-cat.  Entiende?  Hey, you interested in going to a movie after you get off?  Go out and have a good time or maybe just walk, talk or kissyfacy?  Huh?  Whatdyasay?  You are a pretty little girl; I’m a pretty old man.
     “I’ve got a steady boyfriend, sir.  He picks me up ten-thirty and then I usually go home and do my English 111 homework—American Thought and Language, Sixteenth to the Thirtieth Century.
     There was a strange forced laugh or maybe he just never learned how to do it.  “Ha,Ha,Ha.  Ok, ok  you win.  You’ll go to bed a virgin tonight but you can’t hold out forever.  You know what I mean?  And he winked and started eating his pancakes.  He watched her out of the corner of his eye inch along the edge of the restaurant and sit down in a booth where two uniformed police officers were drinking coffees and talking with the obvious manager—bow tie and all.  He watched them crane their necks and give him a onceover and then shrugged.  He smiled and kept at his pancakes punctuated by gulps of strong black coffee.
     “Jilly was disappointed.  God damn it, it was a law.  Well, there was more power in this restaurant that was more awesome and accessible than those useless slugs.  She walked over to Suzie, who was pouring coffee to a booth of happy talking women.  She whispered in her ear.  
     Suzy smiled and talked to the women for a minute and then put her urn down on the table and slowly turned toward Section C.  The man’s seat was empty.  The pancakes remained half un-eaten.  She laughed and tossled Jilly’s hair and whispered something in her ear.  Jilly blushed about as red as her uniform and fled to pick up an order of waffles.  Jilly never really liked English 111: American Thought and Launguage, 17th to the 30th Century but she should have; it may have saved her life and one terrible night.
     Suzy saw Fry walk in slowly, eyes downcast.  He looked like he had cried recently.  She hurried over nearly knocking an older Puerto Rican waitress over.  She quickly stopped and held onto the woman’s hand and arm for a minute.  Each woman declaring what a klutz she was becoming and the Puerto Rican, Maria said “and wait til you have menopause and a continually horny husband—is there any other kind?   And was off again, nearly running into Jilly.  She grabbed a menu and put it in front of their hands as she grabbed Fry’s and led him to a booth also expertly grabbing an urn of coffee and two cinnamon rolls as they walked by.  
     ‘I got fifteen coming and I dare my manager to say something.”  She sat down next to him and put her napkin over her hand already in his crotch.  “Now then, Sweetheart, why on earth do you look so sad and down?  Did Leela lay into you?“
     “Major, major understatement.  She did not, fortunately, hit, kick, elbow, or head-butt me.  For that, I am relieved and grateful. I’ve never seen her this mad…ever…and that includes the time she thought I had tricked her into marrying me.”
     Suzy’s eyebrows raised almost a full inch but she did not say anything although she almost laughed out that they were even.  “Mad enough to want to kill somebody really handsome.”
     “Nah, I think she wanted to kill me.”
     She snorted.
     “But I really don’t think that was her.  She was totally happy and was coming onto me like she had an open field and the net was only twenty some meters away.  She was completely blindsided that there was someone else.  Maybe like I didn’t deserve anyone else.  I mean who, for god sakes, would want me?”
     “I hope that’s Leela’s voice your mouthing sarcastically cause otherwise I’m going to have to start dope-slapping you.”
     “Anyway, it’s not her.  Maybe it will be as soon as she goes out and buys a rifle with a scope and puts up a picture of me as a target—hell, she already has that but that wasn’t her.  Someone else is playing games and doesn’t like you, me, us.”
     Her manager, Jake:  Mr. Higgins to the uninitiated and caring workers did stop by.  “Taking a break, Suzy?”
     She started to say something but he barged ahead.  Sincerely, Fry thought.
     “You’ve worked really hard the entire day and went without your normal break.  Why don’t you sit here with your friend for ten minutes and then just leave.  I’ll punch you out and give an hour of over-time.”  He smiled and started to leave but he turned back quickly.  His face was grave and he looked carefully around.  He whispered.  “I wouldn’t spend much more time than that if I were you unless this gentleman is your brother or your parole officer and you’ve got notarized papers to prove it.  Your co-workers will be on your ass—excuse me—the rest of the year and maybe your entire life otherwise.  He walked self-importantly to his office whistling and had his thirtieth cup of coffee of the day and thought about Suzy until his next cup.
     “I can kick ass as well as your purple-haired girlfriend.  Let somebody make a crack;  She picked up her fork and looked around, glaring, and fed Fry a piece of real apple pie—the last place in NNY where you could actually get that for a reasonable price that didn’t involve radioactive and highly illegal apples.  And speaking of ass, I think you deserve a piece of mine after what I put you through today, verdad mi novio?
     Si.  !Yo te quiero muchisimo: ahora mismo!  Caramba, se me olvido mi cuarderno.
     ?Que?  You forgot your briefcase?
     Only thing I can remember from middle school Spanish class.  You’d be surprised how useful that has been.
     Suzy laughed until tears ran down her face.  The rest of the waitresses smiled and nodded to one another.
     The gentleman in an old Brooker Bros. trench coat and battered Yankees ballcap who sat across the street ‘reading’ the NNY Times did not smile.  He said something that the wind fortunately whipped up the street and was lost forever.
     Hermes left a message on Leela’s machine; this was the third one.  He tapped his pencil against his omnipresent clipboard—the same one Leela had filled out five hours worth of forms so he could return the twin of this one which she had given him for Christmas.  ‘Should I walk over to her apartment?’  He wished Fry was sitting out there.  He would do that on his own time and thank him for it.  ‘Not worth it,’ having done a quick cost-benefit analysis in his head.  ‘Go over tomorrow if she doesn’t call back or else hire a new pilot.  Good, no excellent, but she sure can be a real pain in the butt.’  He thought about his recent hemorrhoidectomy with a grimace and shifted on his doughnut.
     The same model of bureaucratic necessity:  Hermes’ clipboard, was held by Colonel Titus Singh, Whitehouse liaison to the NSC.  Two folders were under the Colonel’s clip and one was spread open on his desk.  He was sitting, Buddahlike puffing his pipe—a highly illegal activity anywhere in federal buildings in the District.  He frowned, read another paragraph and shook his head.  He crossed out the word active at the top and made two entries into his computer.  A short man with deceptive build—fireplug—walked into his office and nodded.  Sing handed him the folder and told the major it was time.  Thomas ‘Andy’ Anderson nodded and took the file and left the office.  Walking down the hall he illegally scanned the contents and actually read a few reports but he did keep a watchful eye and ear open for any traffic that would come close to him.  He locked his door, slipped his steel toed shoes off his tired feet and leaned back in his swivel putting his size fourteen EEE feet on his desk.  The file was opened at the very beginning.
     2986. Stevie Silvitch, age 8: was sent to the office for the twelfth time this year.  He beat up three fifth grader boys twice his size breaking seven combined bones.  He was suspended for a week with his homework sent home via the school secretary who walked by his home on the way to her house daily.
     2987. Stephen Patrick Silvitch, age 9:  was arrested at Birmingham Mall for shoplifting, assault on five mall security officers, resisting arrest, and breaking the arms of two uniformed patrolmen.  He was finally maced and tasered sufficiently to have handcuffs placed on him pursuant to be thrown in the back of a NNY police cruiser.  He was sentenced to 1yr educational-labor at Maryhill by the NNY Juv dvs court.
     2992. Steve Silver Silvitch, age 14: was arrested for murder killing 42 members of the Chakos, a rival gang.  He was sentenced  by NYCC at Ossining to life having been a juvenile when the crime was committed.  He was listed as extremely dangerous psychopath and was ordered never to be released beyond maximum security and was recommended he stay in close custody in any super maximum security in USE his natural life.
     2994. 247827-J100:CLOSE, age 16:  was interviewed at Leavenworth by Major Anderson and was entered into the beta program of SHINING KNIGHT where he would receive rigorous athletic training, behavioral response and aversion training and compulsory Educational training level4 with the understanding he would be returned to extended isolation at Leavenworth the rest of his natural life if he received one infraction or two demerits.  He received his first demerit within the first ten minutes of arrival at Knottingwood for spitting in front of a sign that prohibited the practice.  82,478gold in bets were placed that day he would not last the week at odds of 10:1.  Physical Trainer J.P. Symthe covered all bets and after seven days deposited 800,000gold into his bank account.  He deposited 82,478gold into SP Silvitch new bank account at 5.2%pa compounded quarterly and gave him a carton of Cuban cigarillos worth thousands more.
     2995.  SP Silvitch, age 17: moved into J.P. Smythe’s quarters at Kranchennit, state of Scotland, north sea coast and was summarily trained in being a bat boy which consisted primarily of the art of sleeping in the same bed.
     2996.  SP Silvitch, age 18: promoted to special pl: cpl dvs A special forces and as J.P. Smythe’s asst trainer.  He beat 48 recruits to an inch of their lives that year but everyone graduated with high honors.  The first occurrence of that high rate.  Previous dropout rates ranged from 48-74% over the five previous years. (The ‘pep talk’ was continued in practice after the departure of Silvitch but it was never as effective as when administered by same.)
     2996.  S.P. Silvitch, age 18: graduated with full hs accreditation and received 47 credits toward his bachelors should he enroll in any state school in the next two years.  He was automatically enlisted in the special forces as corporal first class but was ordered to report to Parris Island to enter the Marine Corp as a recruit.  J.P. Smythe was found in his barricks having fallen from his bunk with a broken neck.  The CO, Col Cho signed off on the report of accidental death with contribution by drunkenness.  S.P. Smythe had been tea totaler for 54 years and his modified bunk was only six inches off the carpeted floor.  These proved to be the foci of innumerable conversations and speculations for two solid years.
     2998. S.P. Silver Silvitch, age 20: promoted to Lance Cpl, USE Marines.
     3000  Silver Silvitch, age 20: promoted to staff sgt, USE Marines.
     3001. Silver Silvitch, age 20: awarded three silver stars.  Spectrum-IV Conflict.
     3001. Silver Silvitch, age 20: Capt. Special Forces, Sgt USE Marines [inactive status]    sent to Bratsk Station for sniper training and assassination techniques (non-explosive).  Receives high honors in garrote and pressure point eliminations.  1st class marksman.
     3001. Silver Silvitch, age 20:  awarded his first kill, Nepal and notable that it occurred at 20,000ft and no oxygen supplement equipment [see joint operation fieldmaster]
     3001. Silver Silvitch, age 20:  receives limited and general immunities and appt to NSC & CIA special problems desks.
     3002-3008 Silver Silvitch, age 27:  annual reviews: satisfactory perform; competent: continued appt
     3009.  Silver Silvitch, age 28: annual review temporary satisfactory perform; questionable competence:  recommend convene special review board re: S Silvitch mental health state.  Temporary continued appt
     3009.  Silver Silvitch: , age 28:   special review board convened. Mental health state.  INCOMPLETE AND CANCELLED:  Silvitch AWOL.           Review Board chair, Major Sally Whipmaster, Md, PhD, staff psychiatrist & clinician murdered and raped.  
     3009.  Silver Silvitch, age 28:   wanted for questioning in seventeen deaths including Magor Whipmaster. Determined Extremely Dangerous.  No apprehension attempts without full CIA
backup.  Review scheduled for 3010: revocation of immunity.  Highly important Capture status.  No distribution to local law enforcement, fbi, customs, and atf fieldoffices.  CIA/ NSC personnel ONLY.  Lt general David  Smith sig so
     “Oh crap we got a rogue that’s gotta go.  And it’s on my god-damned watch.  Oh, hell!! He’s one of mine.  I recruited this ash hole.  I was the one who said this is our boy and only death shall part.  I think I feel the flu coming on; the 8760 hr NSA-1 flu.”
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #31 on: 06-12-2010 20:33 »

     “I know she was really special to you, Fry, for more than ten years.  And even without that, she was your one true friend.  I know she sometimes caused you pain but it seemed she went out of her way to  spare you as well.  I keep forgetting you were married to her, no matter how short.  I was married much longer on paper, but I never saw him except briefly.  We may have had equal time with our spouses.  And yet that time was special and important and part of me and us.  I can’t discount it because it was short and neither should you.  You have the right and responsibility to grieve in any way you find productive.  If you want help, I shall try with any resource I can marshal.  I expect your mind to wonder often to this purple-haired woman when we make love or talk or am walking like this or you calling out her name when you mean me; it is normal; I expect it and so should you.  Regardless of any feeling, conflict or argument that this generates, I want you to remember: I love you and I am here for you.  Ok?”
     “K.  I’m sorry, Suzy”
     “Why, for god’s, sake.  This is just part of being close.  As long as I love you, these kind of problems, developments and everyday life is part of it and I wouldn’t think of giving this up any more than I would sleeping with you.  Capisce?”   Suzy grabbed him, hugged him very hard and they kissed while foot traffic streamed past them.
     One block west of that hug, Suzie pulled Fry suddenly into a store front.  “Someone’s back there.  A professional or else just naturally good at this sort of thing, maybe the right instincts.  He keeps varying his pace, his appearance and at some point soon he’s gonna walk by us unless this is the day he kills us.  Listen very carefully: I want you to put your arm and elbow out like this.  She took off her XXIXCce Silvertex jacket (they went bankrupt a few years ago to the dismay of millions of backpackers, bicyclists, climbers and people who wanted to be associated with those groups)  with it’s big reflective yellow stripe on the back.  Hold this jacket and especially the hood like this—it’ll look like I’m walking next to you from a ways back. Vary your speed just a little but keep way to the right and every once in a while pull in a place like this.  I’m gonna try to slip back and take a looksee.”
     “Suzy, please be careful.  I…you know.”
     “Her heart jumped to her mouth and she fought back a tear.  “I know, Sweetheart.  I’ll be grabbing your ass in a few minutes.”
     And she stooped and kind of slipped back.  Fry could never adequately describe how she did it.  He turned, looked once more backwards and then stepped into the traffic and walked along as instructed…invoking every god or goddess he had ever heard of for her safe return.
     Suzy picked up a NNY Times stuffed in a trash receptacle as well as an old towel.  She looked a little skeptically at the towel then shrugged and folded into a triangle and tied it over her hair.  She kept her knees bent a little and she tried to keep herself from actually reading the Times. 
     It was impossible that there were this many people behind Fry and still no sign of my jerk.  Uh-oh, I hope I did not offend him with that thought because there he is: ordinary, non-threatening kind of guy up to nothing special.  ‘You sure it’s this guy?’
     ‘Yep’:  There was an unbelievably dirty and tattered sweatshirt lying on the pavement that conceivably had a million footstep trod on it.  Within seconds, the el jerko—as she now thought of him—had completely transformed himself.  If she hadn’t seen him do it, she would never believe it was the same person and having seen him do it, she still wasn’t completely sure.  El jerko picked up the pace and practically ran for two blocks but always keeping his eye on that yellow stripe.  The run/jog made it difficult for her to shadow him but he seemed to not sense his rear as a threat in fact there were no threats to him, just the slim possibility of losing the couple ahead of him.  Walking brisk now, but within the norm, he picked up more ground and then she noticed swift practiced movements.  Pulling a barrel from out of his pant leg, assembling the stock from his back, the magazine from his pocket and the scope from the front of his trousers.  He stripped off the old sweatshirt and tossed it over his shoulder and into her face.  He slowed as he chambered one and then two shells.  He slowed even more maybe so his breath would not move his rifle.  She cursed as he moved faster than she imagined possible.  She was positive he was close enough that she could interrupt any shot aimed at what might be Fry but prayed it was for empty hood.  But in a fluid smooth motion he stooped, knelt, presumably aimed and registered the laser mark and shot and shot again.  She got a good kick into his head just before he pulled the trigger on the second shot and she hoped she had not just saved her hood from being de-waterproofed.  She kicked again to make sure he was going to stay down but he wasn’t there.  From a sport consideration, his taking her kick which would have disabled any of the black belts that were her students didn’t stop him, maybe not even fazing him.  That and combined with the movements that followed she considered 0.a thing of beauty and pride.  She also cursed and swore.  He rolled and came up in a fighting stance.  ‘Uh-oh,’ she thought, ‘I am really go to take one or two or three in just a second or two.’  He faked so naturally she would have bet her life and perhaps under different circumstances she had but he rolled yet he didn’t roll and swept her.  He was up before she went down and his fist followed by the side of the adjoining hand aimed for her carotid.  They never landed and she never saw him leave.  ‘God damn it.  That’s friggin’ impossible.  There is no fudgin’ way he could have disappeared like that.  I have to be looking right at him.’  For fifty yards down the sidewalk, there was a desert.  Everyone had wisely scattered or suddenly developed a strong interest in being somewhere—anywhere—else.  Most were never aware that two shots had been fired.  She was not positive that there ever had been a first shot.  But the sidewalk was empty for a minute or two and how in the hell could you hide in the middle of nowhere?  Fry came up running hard dragging behind her jacket that would be difficult to describe as having a working hood anymore or even much of a hood for that matter. 
     They were so surprised the other was still living.  Each had imagined the death of their lover which they had been completely powerless to prevent.  They rushed to each other’s arms and stood shaking in the middle of a busy sidewalk in NNY holding each other and crying while thousands rushed by them completely unaware of any drama.
     Fry’s hand shook while holding a full glass of neat single malt.  “Do you think we should go to the police?”
     ‘Why?” she asked.  “What could we tell them that would be of any use?  I’m not sure they would believe us.  Think: crackpots and then look at us. 
     “What about your hood?” 
     “Do you know any firearm that could make that hole without setting off alarms a mile away.  He did not buy that rifle or ammunition at KLM Mart™ in the burbs.  It was never in any of my training.  That’s the first thing they wouldn’t believe.”
     “But you fought him.”
     “Did I?  See any bruises on me, how about broken bones?  Who saw it?  I say I hit him, I hit him hard but where’s the blood, where did he vanish to?  Oh, they’d love that word: vanish.  I’m thinking Bellevue, what do you think?”
     “But maybe they already got a complaint from someone else: maybe more than one.  And maybe they will get others.  Maybe we could help those poor crazy schmuks.”
     “Hmmm, you’re right.  The worst thing they’ll do to us is make fun of and ignore us and we’re almost doing that anyway.  Ok, but finish your scotch first and then we’ll wait a while, maybe tomorrow.  I don’t think scotch on our breath is going to do us any good.  Fry, you play tennis or racquetball or handball?  Basketball!  Let’s go shoot some hoops.  We can play whore, horse’s ass and some one-on-one.  That’ll burn the alcohol and get rid of the god-damned stress and fear.  We can’t be afraid.  I’ll be afraid for you but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let my guard down by pissing my panties.  Ok!  Knicks v green-eyed Celtics: classic.  Let me go change and grab a b-ball.  It’s time I introduced you to my church and gym.”
     Fry had never been on a basketball team, any team for that matter but that’s where he would have learned the interaction with his teammates.  When you were the team, a good pass, a good screen didn’t count for much. In a real game, she would have wiped the floor with him.  But he had played street ball and in those games anyway who ever passed: they were really one-on-one no matter what the team sizes were.  And it was obvious he had played with guys bigger and better than he was and could hold his own against them and sometimes beat them at their own game as well as fake them right out of their jocks.  He could never have been taught that jumpshot, which was pure natural.  He couldn’t dunk it but he never missed a layup and even if he had been poor in those, he out rebounded her about ten to one.  He gave up a couple of inches to her plus a stronger jump but he just knew where the ball was going to be and he was great on follow up and just tipped them in: so simple, so easy, so important.  He didn’t laugh at her WHORE to WH.  He seemed embarrassed and like he wished he could have prevented it.  HORSES ASS to HORS, DIPSHOOT to DIP and BASTARD to BASTAR were almost silent affairs.  But he did relish the SWEETHEART to SWEE.  Her ‘T’ was just a lovely left handed flip and twist he put up over the shoulder while passing under the basket and in the air near the baseline.  Her response was very close: the ball rimming the hoop but refusing to fall in.  Fry kept urging it in, coaxing it.  She thought he was going to tip it in and he groaned like it hurt when it spun off.  Close but no cigar.  But then Fry laughed and laughed and grabbed her and pulled her down.  They wrestled in the six foot circle at the top of the key where she pinned him quickly and easily.  It was hard to imagine that someone had just tried to kill them only hours ago.  They walked home in the half-light of the warm night air holding hands and taking turns dribbling the ball.  They just relished being together; they were excited by just being alive.
     They were so happy; they were so in love; they were out of breath and their muscles had duly noted the activity and were already getting ready to grumble tomorrow.  They had so much fun they had failed to notice the psychopathic cold-blooded killer sitting alone in the balcony, watching them play one on one and smiling.  Even he did not know whom he was rooting for: her, him, himself.   You could not fault this killer for ever being unobservant or methodical.  He duly noted each security camera as he carefully made his way in and estimated its field of range.  He tried to sit in an ‘uncovered’ seat--there weren’t any.  He carefully counted the limited distant exits as well as the number of people, janitors, maintenance and security who came and went constantly during the basketball workout.  More than three quarters were in constant visual contact with someone.  ‘What’s one more day?   They were having fun.   And he admired them for that ability.  So many of his victims he could never have said that about—wide-eyed, terrified, pleading to the very last breath.
     “Major Anderson, call on line two.  You can take it on mine; it’s secure or you can walk back to your office.”
     “Andy here, whas up?”
     “Oh spare me the latest or in your case, the hackneyed idiom.”
     “Burkhart?  Doesn’t sound like you but that’s you alright.”
     “God damn it, how in the hell you make major?  You know damn well you’re not supposed to give me a name.  What’s the sense of the voice-altering if you’re supplying name-tags?”
     “Hey, this line is secure.”
     “Hey yourself!  You prepare for the unexpected.  I’m alive today only because I don’t believe in fairy tales.”
     “Burk…..Agent X, do you believe in anything?  OK, the blue eagle has landed.  Please give me correct response or leave me alone.”
     “Queen to king’s bishop 3: checkmate!!”
     “There wasn’t any exclamation point or checkmate in that checkoff.”
     “You’ve never played chess with me.  All my moves have ‘!!’ and it’s going to be checkmate sooner or later.  You just wish you could be in the field and use a checkoff.  I sure as hell don’t want to be there, especially if I was dumb enough to initiate it.”
     “Hey, I’ve got field experience; how do you think I got this position?  Ok, ok, you got me convinced I’m talking to a real, honest to god spy v spy.  Whatcha got or whatcha want?”
     “Please don’t feed me lines like that; you make it too easy.  Your boy Silver was spotted in NNY on East 23rd.  He’s getting old or maybe has just gone off the deep end but he let his quarry spot him and she almost took him down.”
     “No crap?  He was the best.  You’re right, he’s slipping.  Only the one confirmation?  And he was not my boy!!”
     “Guess I heard wrong.  I wouldn’t have called you if it was just one; it’s not something I relish anyway.  Two.  Please don’t embarrass me and ask whom.”
     “Wouldn’t have thought of it but you have some pretty flaky sources.”
     “Yeah, I understand they’re gonna be made major.  You want me to take him down?”
     “Negative, No, Nyet, Nein fraulein.  Don’t you dare.  Didn’t you bother to read his file?”
     “You read it to me.  Major, may I disrespectfully point out that we’ve lost him four times waiting for the god damned cavalry to show up.  Do I try to intervene, prevent, or make difficulty in his kill?”
     “Who is it?”
      “Looks like an ordinary guy and girl—happy together and still in love.  Haven’t had the crap hit the fan yet and no one yet is playing around on the other.  I don’t know; I don’t have a name yet.  You want it when I find it?”
     “Yeah, we better take a look at it.  Maybe it’s a private grudge; maybe just a random couple but I need to check it if it is somehow our work.  It would make all our lives so much easier if Silver, or whatever he calls himself these days, gets back on the track and with the program.  Maybe he’s back.”
     “Nope, he’s gone off the deep end.  Good man; we’re gonna miss him.”
     “You’re going to miss him.  I think he’s a cold-hearted killer who happens to be jerk; he was born in the deep end.”
     “Yep.  That’s why I’m gonna miss him.  Let me know.  And until you hear from me, you let him make his kill.  You understand that?”
     “Understood, major.”
     “K.  You’re so god-damned smart: Harvard, Yale, Michigan State, Whitman College and lord knows where else, I ain’t gonna ask you what you understand but hear me, you better.”
     “Sir!  Pleasure talking to you, Sir!  Good bye, Sir!”
     “Ashhole!!”  He slammed the phone down into the headset.  Carol, one office over, smiled. 
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #32 on: 06-13-2010 18:13 »
« Last Edit on: 06-13-2010 21:19 »

     They were still dribbling the basketball up the street.  The doorman, an elegant white haired black man in a soft gray uniform of vest and slacks with with long sleeved white shirt and a black bow tie opened and held open the door.  He looked at the bouncing basketball and slowly backed up a little with arms wide spread and reaching to strip the ball from Suzie.  She deftly kept it just out of his reach waiting for him to commit himself.  Their eyes were inches apart and every now and then his arm would strike out like a cobra but the female mongoose adroitly adjusted her dribble or stance or pivoted.  Fry was laughing, obviously encouraging Mr. Samuel Springlock and taunting his shapely opposition.  She was so very low to the floor, the bounce of the ball was only an inch or two; she slowly moved forward and she dipped brought her face directly in front of Mr. Springlock’s face, kissed him still dribbling and then flicked around him.  Samuel followed her with his shining eyes laughing.  Fry was yelling “foul!” Before the elevator closed, she said, gingerly holding up a phantom jockstrap with her fingers, “I’ll wash this jock for you, sir before I give it back to you tomorrow.”  She heard through the door, as the Otis™ started ascending, “I’m tellin’ my wife ‘bout this but she ain’t gonna no way believe it.”  They gave each other a hard time and Fry finally reminded her about her HORSES ASS and she said she wanted a rematch tomorrow in tennis and there was going to be a god-damned wrestling match on the bed tonight.  She smiled and handed Fry her key and he opened the door.  They stood there a second and then looked at each other.
     He grabbed her and literally threw her back through the door and almost landed on top of her.  He hit the elevator button and was relieved when it opened immediately.  Fry threw Suzy inside the cab.  He pulled off the fire extinguisher off the wall while talking loudly and quickly to her.  “Go-back-to-the-lobby-and-have-the-doorman-call-the-police-I’m-staying-here”.  He pushed the lobby button and stepped out as the closing door brushed him.  
     The apartment door had remained open and he crept to the side of its jam and slowly looked in trying to listen.  It opened onto an anteroom that opened at either end, one to the kitchen and one to the living room.  He looked at the fire extinguisher hanging from his left hand and then the framed art of Jill and Suzy that was on the wall.  For the first and only time, Fry wished they had a broadsword or better yet, a gunrack hanging there instead of Sue's water color of Jill.  The frames would not offer anything useful; the extinguisher was better if he had room and time to swing it.  He moved inches at a time toward the kitchen and slowly looked around the corner.  He moved carefully to the counter and picked up Suzy’s meat cleaver and her foot long freshly stropped chef’s knife.  There was a large empty stockpot on the stove.  He filled it with the fire extinguisher, some smaller sauce pans, lids, silverware and a few glasses and pushed it ahead on his hands and knees and he crawled under a large serving window to the dining and living rooms.  He stood up and swung the pot through the serving space.  It wwnt crashing into the fireplace on the other side of the room while he rolled out into the living room and scrambled to his hands and knees staring wildly about.  Glass broke, the extinguisher discharged, pans lids went flying and the pot rolled around on its edge to it settled on its bottom.  Fry slowly stood up still brandishing the cleaver and knife as the echoes settled.  He was standing there, his back to the wall wondering if he should make his way back to the bedrooms when a voice yelled out: “Freeze!!!”
     Two uniform officers, one kneeling and aiming a blaster with a three inch barrel at him; its bore reminded him of the hole in the hood.  A second officer covered him from the doorway with a conventional short barreled and handled assault shotgun.  Fry held the knives out in front of him by this finger tips and dropped them; the knife hit on its point and went into the wood floor.  It stood there quivering back and forth.  Shotgun threw him against the wall, kicked his feet out into a spread eagle and leaned against him hard.  He handcuffed him with one hand and continued to frisk him down with the other.  
     Suzy was finally able to push past the third cop, took one look and yelled, “God damn it, that’s my boyfriend, he friggin’ lives here.  Let him alone.”  A new tirade was forthcoming as she realized Fry was handcuffed.  The guy on the floor kneeling in the foam was still in the act of putting the chef’s knife in a plastic bag.
     "And get your dirty hands off my chef's knife!!!!"

     Still handcuffed, Fry said he had not been able yet to check the bedrooms and bathrooms down the hall and he tried to point with his nose.  Shotgun and Blaster walked carefully to the first bedroom door.  The third cop unlocked Fry’s wrist and looked down at the mess in the fireplace and on the floor.
     “Supposed to be a diversionary thing while I went the other way.  No one was here.  Hey, it might have worked!”
     The cop picked up the stock pot and looked at it.  “Kinda looks like a dumb thing to do to me.  You may have been really, really lucky.”
     The others joined them.  One took out a pad, the other a recording device.  “Ok, one at a time; you’re both going to get a chance.”  He pointed to Suzy,  “Tell me again why you thought there was an intruder here.”
     “Strong cigar smell.  Smelled like it was still lit or at least very recently lit.  We don’t smoke.”
     Shotgun said “This would probably be that.” And he pointed to the dining room table.  A cigarillo had been placed in the middle of the table and it had burned down its entire length leaving a white ash stick.  A black line lay under the ash burnt into Jill’s 20000gold teak Mikaya hand-crafted exotic wood table.  On either end of the ash line two approximately one inch fingers pointed at each other with long bright red nail polish.
     “That god-damned sicko.  This is just gross and so un-necessary.  Why couldn’t he just write out a note if he wanted to leave a message.  Sicko!“
     “I don’t suppose either of you recognize those fingers or the nail polish?  And either of you have any idea who or why someone is doing this.”
     Both Fry and Suzy shook their heads.
     “Those deadbolts set when you left?” the cop who was bagging the fingers asked Suzy.
     “I don’t lock them for my stuff but I do it for Jill.  She has some expensive irreplaceable things here that she loves.  Yes, I locked both deadbolts as well as the door.”
     Two of the cops looked at each other.  “You want to check now and see if that stuff is still here…please?”
     One of them went with Suzie and Fry explained the sidewalk assault this afternoon and showed them her hood.  They spent five minutes looking at and fingering the entry point of something.  One of them asked finally, “So you see this guy that was behind you?”
     “Uh, no sir.  Suzie saw him.  Fought with him.  But by the time I got back he was gone.  He apparently ran from her once before at her restaurant, she turned to look at him and he was gone.”
     “Anybody else see him.”  
     “Not on the sidewalk but there was another waitress at Suzy’s restaurant who saw him.”
     “Her name is…?”
     “You’ll have to ask Suzy.”  Suzy and the other cop walked back in and she gave them Jilly’s name.
     “Well, your intruder’s gone.  Probably won’t come back but if I were you, I’d sleep over at my brother-in-law’s even though I can’t stand him and in the morning call a security specialist in the morning and upgrade your windows and doors.  You got a hand weapon?
     “I’m a reserve marine lieutenant even though inactive.”  She casually returned the salute of Shotgun who responded as soon as she said ‘lieutenant’ and ‘marine’.  “As you were, Officer.  I have my service automatic and an AR3007 and my dad’s old hunting rifles.  Hmmm, I have two blackbelts, one of which is a fourth dan but I could never rely on those; this guy is way more advanced.  He’s a professional and a teacher’s teacher’s teacher but that assault rifle may get us some respect.”
     “Would with me.  Your boyfriend’s cleaver also spoke to me.  Well you take care.  You’ll get a call and/or visit from a Detective Lt. San or Kzechlo.  They’re going to go over this with you in more detail.  If you think of anything you want to add please call this number.  The detectives’ names are on the second line.  We’ll take a look around the neighborhood but there isn’t much to work with.  You two kids have a more peaceful night and let us get some sleep the rest of the night: no more theatrics Mr. Fry.”    
     “What do you want to do, Fry?  Stay here or get a hotel room.  I don’t think his brother-in-law’s sounded that nice.”  
          “Just be with you.  But we have two other options: we could also spend the night in my apartment but my roommate is a little strange if you’re not used to him.
     “Strange?  Stranger than you?”
     “I look and act pretty good compared to Bender.  He’s a bending unit, a robot.”
     “No kidding?  That would be wild; I can’t imagine your next one’s going to beat that.  Should I vote now?”
     “Yeah, I guess it might be a real experience.  The other thing is we crash at PE.  Leela told me my cabin has a new bigger bunk on the ship.  We might run into Leela but I guess she’s calmed down a little by now.  I hope.
     “Oh-my-god!!!!  You are something else!!  I’ve never even been near a starship and you have your own cabin?  Actually I would love to talk to Leela and there are probably others there that you work with, huh?”
     “Yeah, if you wanted to meet a bending unit, this is a good place to meet Bender.  There or maybe a strip joint.  You serious about meeting Leela?
     “We might get along, if we could sit down and talk.  We both have something in common: you.  Might be worth a shot and I’ve been on my butt on the mat a lot of times; I know how to take a kick.  I was going to suggest we sleep here and then I thought your apartment but now I want to travel to the stars with you in your bunk—I’ll bet we’d have to be really close together, huh?  Let’s do it, if that’s ok?  You got toothpaste in your cabin and can I borrow your brush?  Let’s leave the lights on, I want to grab some firepower—do you want your cleaver?  Oh, next time, Fry, please use another knife other than my chef’s.  Please?”
     “Ok, take off your shirt.  Mmmmmmmmm!  I love having my hands on your chest; tweaking your nipple and giving it a little suck.  Brrrrrrrrrr!  Ok, back to business:  I meant your red shirt.  This is a shoulder holster; it goes like this.  And this is a self charging ZZ-44—I didn’t mention this to Shotgun, the marine grunt a few minutes ago because it’s illegal.  It’s always on and there is no safety.  You don’t have to carefully aim because it’s a power field and it’s going to very much disable anything that get’s in its way: about one foot on either side of what you would think as the barrel and it goes out from there at around a 45degree angle radiating outward to about ten feet away from you.  You won’t kill anyone but whoever is front of it may wish you had for about one half hour.  Please be careful because I’ve seen guys who should have known better shoot themselves; they reported it was not fun.  This is my service automatic and it has a lot of me in it so you two should get along fine.  This is the safety; if you can see white and it will glow white in the dark, it’s ready to blow someone away.  If you have time, stand like this, uh huh, and you cradle it like this, look at my thumb.  Ok, you try it in the stance.  Ok, that’s good.  Looking like you know what you’re doing is going to take the fight out of a lot of people; I have no idea about this sicko.  Ok, don’t forget to keep breathing but if you’re out of breath, try to wait a second to help stabilize your hands and just pull back in one smooth motion; don’t jerk.  Push on your right arm and pull back on your left but don’t get carried away and go into isometrics.  It will have some kick and it’s less than you think it’s going to be and your arms are going to absorb 99%.  It’s an automatic and it will empty that magazine in about two seconds but you want to shoot count one thousand one and shoot again if you want.  Pull easily, don’t jerk; let go, repeat.  Here are four more magazines.  They’re safe, just stick them in your pocket and the explosive shells will not activate until you push it in.  You just push this little red lever and it has a small red light at night and the cartridge ejects and if you get the cartridge touching the slot, it’ll draw it in.  There is no forward or backward, up or down, any way will work, there are ten explosive shells in each magazine and remember there is also one in the chamber—eleven, right?  Ok, stand with it, take it off safety, aim at the door, eject your cartridge and put a new one in.  Fry!  That’s perfect.  That earns you one kiss.  Ok put it on safety.  Do it again without putting a cartridge in.  Don’t forget to take out your chambered-shell; you do it like this.  And this time pull off four, no seven shots.  Excellent; another kiss.  This is not a long range weapon but it’s very effective close up.  Don’t even bother to try shooting at something over two hundred feet.  You should be able to hit something vital—think the guy’s torso at about a hundred feet.  If you hit a leg, it’s going to take it off and that’s going to disable most people.  Do not pull this or the other one out if you don’t intend to use it.  And don’t even think about shooting a bad guy’s weapon out of his hand.  That’s going to earn you a dope slap.  Here’s the holster, just thread it to your belt and your shirt will cover both nicely.  Don’t ever let me catch you sticking either one of these in your pocket or in your waist band.  And don’t wait for this guy to threaten you or me before you blow him away, okay.  I don’t think even his mommy is going to cry over him—just a hunch.   Ok, you take your chambered shell out again.  Good.  Don’t put it back.  Ok, stand one more time and do it for the last time.  You’re a quick learner and easy to teach; maybe the kissing was a good incentive.  One more kiss.  And this is almost as good as my chef’s and can shave with it if you want.  It’s my old kbar.  Spealking of me being in things: this knife is half me.  You can stick it down your pants for that sweet pirate look I love so much but you might want it in its sheath on unless you want a bikini shave.  Don’t cut yourself.  Ok.  Let’s leave the lights on and lock the door…again.”  
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #33 on: 06-13-2010 18:58 »
« Last Edit on: 06-13-2010 21:26 »

Read 735 times.  Many of those are first timers, seeing this story and trying it; thank you.  If you don't like it; that's ok.  If I wrote especially for you, you might like it but still the same percentage as before would not.
If you are a return reader, either curious or can't believe someone better hasn't taken over by now, please write some comment.  If you really like it and have time, you might mention why or what you found funny, interesting, exciting, or effective.  
I am more interested if you don't like it:  Does not fit in the canon of the Futurama Universe; too little like Groening; no enough like Groening; too sacharine!; too improbable; out of character but could you tell me why, so; too much technibabble; technibabble makes no sense whatsoever; doesn't make sense, too hackneyed, trite, silly, obtuse; not clear as to whom is speaking; too predictable; rip off from writer X; rip off from Groening--duh!; more emotion is needed; less emotion, please et cetera, et cetera, et cetera and so forth.
This is much more fun than writing a technical book about institutional libraries but sometimes there are way too many possibilities and then there are the times I find myself writing myself into a hole: it's not a pretty sight.  Thanks so much for those who have responded...even the ones who hate it.
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #34 on: 06-14-2010 15:51 »
« Last Edit on: 06-14-2010 16:50 »

     “Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.”  
     “To the last syllable of recorded time.  Hi.”
     “I got you some names.  They made a police report.  Woman is Susan ‘Suzy’ James Anderson, she lives in that apartment building across from Madison Square Park on E23rd 1404,  has a roommate Jill Szervovich who is currently out of town.  Her boyfriend has been staying at her apartment last couple of days, Phillip ‘Fry’ J. Fry, works at Planet Express as well as The Farnsworth Laboratory and Research   Your boy made a visit to their apartment and left a couple of slightly used fingers from his latest sexual conquest—his mom must be so proud of him.  You know that Suzy got a kick into your boy’s head.  Well there’s more.  He took her down and had a clear kill but pulled a punch at last second.  Maybe he had a twinge of conscience which never bothered him before or else he felt threatened—maybe someone coming or so he thinks cause it didn’t sound like that from her story.  The shot he took would have blown her out of the water if she had been in her rain jacket.  I don’t know maybe your boy doesn’t either.  You want me to talk to either Suzy or Fry or bring one of them in?
     “He’s not my boy.  He’s another idiot’s boy.  Thanks, no.  Very nice.  Let me confirm that.  That’s The Farnsworth Laboratory Research, right?  Ok.  Only thing from perfect is I have to talk to Major Fudgeup now.  There’ll be something in your Christmas stocking tomorrow.  Please repeat…Thanks and good night.”
     “Hi.  It’s your nameless goldenboy.  Hey, you catch on fast!  Good job.  You want the names or should I cypher them in?  K.  Woman is Susan ‘Suzy’ James Anderson.  Her boyfriend is Philip ‘Fry’ J. Fry.  Yeah that’s the couple he tried to kill today.  Yeah she was the one who kicked him.  Maybe you can use this.  He also works for The Farnsworth Laboratory Research.  Don’t or didn’t we have some contracts with that place?  The other thing is he had easy opportunity to kill her in that so called fight and he pulled his punch and took off.  You figure that one out.  Anything more I should ask about?  K.  Pleasure doing business with you.  Can’t wait till next time.”
     The major gave the phone the finger before putting the headpiece in its cradle.
     “I’ve never been here before.  Cool building and you got a great landing on the East River: terrific.  I like you tower, that is so cool.  Where is the ship housed”
     “We have to go inside to get to the hanger.  And that’s the showers and lockers; that especially clean one with all the fingerprints on it is mine.  And this is the lounge.  Conference room where I take most of my really productive naps is up those steps.  If you want, I can show you my chair with a reproduction of my butt permanently engrained in its imitation leather.  Normal otherwise.  
     “People watch tv?  I would have thought there would be more important things to do.”
     “Uh, mostly pbs specials and news reports and the news reports.
     “Oh, you mean Finecline & Brimstone.  Yeah they’re good aren’t they.  I was fearful you might mean Morbo and Linda for a minute.”
     “Uh no.  they’re too elementary.  Oh and Masterpiece theatre.  I love the bbc adaptations; especially the Jane Austens.
     “You do??!!!  So do I.  They are the best.”
     “They’re showing ALL of their Pride & Prejudices this week.  I still love Jennifer Beals the best although there have been better Darcys than that ancient dude who made a living out of the role.   You would have made a lovely heroine.  Would you model an empire waist for me some time.”
     “That would truly be a waste of time.”
     “Grrrr: shameless and awful pun.  And this is Professor Farnsworth’s lab.”
     “Can we go in?”
     “Sure.  Just don’t touch anything smoking or emitting a shrill alarm.”
     “What’s this in the clean room?  Looks like someone—the Professor?—has been re-working a cooling unit.  Pretty intricate.”
     “Uh, that’s mine.  Remember when I said Leela gave me a quest?  This is it.”
     “Fry!!  Wow, this is great.  This is really, really special.  Let’s see.  This would bypass the first condenser but you have a new feedback coming back into it from the final stage, so that would…save something like 15% right there and over here your coils work together instead of against each other…that’s gotta be much faster and add a good 5% and here.  I don’t see what you are doing here but I see it takes the sensor feedback from 2 and checks it against 3.  Is that a saving?  Were you trained in this…or did you just figure it out by playing with it?...Looks like both.”
     “I’m taking the still-in-effect Fifth on that.  Uh, only 2% but it lessens the overall time of response by one minute ten seconds and doesn’t cost anything.
     “Except space.”
     “Yeah, space…but there is a 24% savings in space overall and it can fit into three housings instead of four which would save some more depending on the configuration.”
     “Well, this is very impressive.  You deserve a big kiss with some tongue for this and I’m going to give it to you.  Do you know we don’t have our clean-suits on?”
     “Not required any more.  All the connections are completed and there are no open systems.”
     “I love it when you talk dirty to me.  Put your arms around me.  Remember your second lesson.  Think long and sweet and close your eyes.  Hmm.  Hmmmmmmm, that was nice.  Show me the bridge and then your cabin.  Or maybe the cabin and then the bridge.  Did you ever have to run up these stairs for a fast getaway, one where you almost didn’t make it.”
     “I didn’t know there was any other kind.”
     “Ok, not very impressive but this is the bridge.  This is the pilot’s—the captain’s chair—Leela’s station.  And most of it is dead reckoning, she won’t use the readouts I feed her until she gets her power up and decreased resistance and when it feels right, she starts putting in the coordinates and watching the power use, speed, elevation and mostly for visual recognition of problems—sightings of asteroids for instance—the uncharted unexpected, planets—the charted expected and traffic--the uncharted expected.  And this is mine.  This is the Engineering station and this is my seat.  Please sit in it.  Hmmm, I can tell the seat likes your butt more than mine, well, who wouldn’t and no, he doesn’t count?  Can I show you my cabin now?  Please.”
     “Mmm, this is nice.  I love it the way you fit in next to me; you were made for me.  Your bunk is as comfortable as my bed albeit less wide.”
     “Check this out.”
     “Ooh!  That takes some of the work out of it.  Love making with greater efficiency—who knew?  I think we should try it out in the interest of science.”
     “You try it for science.  I’m sticking with love.  We can compare notes when one of us tires out first.”
     “That would be you.”
     “Ha.  We shall see and he surprised her by singing—again in a decent tenor:  There was no way to satisfy her.  So he built himself a friggin’ wheel, with balls of iron and a prick of steel.  Around and round went the balls of iron, up and down went the prick of steel.  Round and round when the friggin’ wheel, with balls of iron and a prick of steel.  Round and round went the balls of iron and up and down went the prick of steel.  Until at last the maiden cried, Enough, enough, I'm satisfied.  But now we come to the bitter bit, There was no way of stopping it.”
     “Ah, poor thing.  Think everywhere.”
     “Ahh, poor thing.  Ok, tomorrow.  Last man standing.
     “I love you, Suzy.”
     “And I you.  Can I turn out your globes?”
     “Yes.  And come here.”
     “I’m already here, I can’t get any closer.  I am at 0mm.”
     “Think negative numbers.”
     “Ah!!  I love making love with a mathematician.”  
    Hermes knocked for the fifth and last time.  He wished he had never left Jamaica.  Maybe his next vacation…he wouldn’t come back.  He was pushing the ‘down’ on the elevator when Leela stuck her head out the door and looked at him.  He’d never imagined her looking worse even in a vicious jerked gefeltefish-induced nightmare.
     “Great nymphs of the Mediterranean; you look like pure Jamaican crap and that is the only thing from that Edenic island that doesn’t bring the sunshine out and sand between your red-painted toes.  What have you been doing to yourself Leela?     Why haven’t you been into work?  Wait!!  Before you answer; please tell me you’ve been sick—really sick.  I can see that, but tell me.  If you tell me you haven’t felt like coming in or it was too painful or some crap like that, I’m going to have to terminate you.  The paperwork alone will set me back weeks but Leela, we’d miss you and you’re a damned good starship pilot—the best despite what I say about you.”
     “You want me to lie to you?”
     “Hell, yes: tell me you’ve been sick!”
     “Hermes, I haven’t been feeling well lately.”
     “Well, I couldn’t come in.”
     “Did you see anyone, Leela?”
     “Uh, I saw Fry, yesterday.”
     “Did you see anyone about your feeling bad?”
     “Uh, I didn’t tell Fry about feeling bad.  I wish I had, instead I…”
     “That must have been after you saw a professional—you don’t have to tell me his name—about your not feeling well, about your inability to come into work when you want to…right?  You didn’t see Zoidberg because it hurt too much to travel far to see a…”
     “Oh!!  I saw a doctor.  Uh, he said I should stay home, take two aspirins, get some rest and call him in the morning.”
     “Whew~  I’m sorry to hear that Leela.  I’ll fill out the necessary forms in triplicate—only three because it’s such a simple thing--and you can sign them when you come in today…right?
     “Hermes, I don’t think I can face Fry.  Maybe you should terminate me.”
     “And waste this lovely intimate tete-a-tete and hour long conversation formulating an acceptable sick leave excuse we’ve been talking about much longer than the one hour?  You go about your business.  If Fry shows up, I’ll send him home for uh, no delivery today, and you can handle that end when you get there.  Ok?  Please for the love of the great Jamaican rum god of Montego Bay, please say yes.”
     “Ok, that would work.  As long as I don’t have to look at Fry in the eye or have him look at me or talk to me, I can do that.  Let me take a shower, wash my hair, do my nails and get dressed and I’ll be right there.”
     “Just get dressed and be right there; in fact that nightie looks good on you: just come in that.  Maybe you should wash your face or better just put a bag over your head; looks like you’ve crying all night.    I’m going to go start the paperwork.  I expect to see you on the bridge ready to go in fifteen minutes.  I’ll walk up and hand you the manifest personally; no staff meeting; no punching in—I know, but I’m thinking about it.  And I’ll keep Fry out of the building.”
     “Carol, get ahold of Capt. Tso and have him bring his crew, fully equipped for one week with maximum field packs to the launch pad.  Call Singlee and have a transport rocket ready in thirty for NNY to stay onsite and bring us home plus one maybe in seven but hopefully less, a lot less.  Have my wife pack my field bag and tell her don’t forget my trench coat like she did last time.  I looked like a god-damned dork standing out there in Bill’s Yankee’s jacket on that bridge; at least it wasn’t the Mets.  Tell her to lay off the sauce and be sure to pick up the kids this afternoon and that she’s going to have to figure out something to eat tonight.  Oh!  And speaking of that, remind her I don’t want any sleepovers like last time.  And I don’t want her eating out every night for a week: three times that’s the max.  Tell her to come up and pick this envelope up from you.  If she’s careful and frugal, there’s plenty.  Be sure she stays away from my Porsche.  This would be a good time for the witch of her mother to come visit—the only time.  Oh feelings!, hmmmm: tell her, uh… I love her and will er, no: shall: shall miss her….and that…I hope she misses me too…a little.”
     Carol rolled her eyes and spoke to her telephone headset, “Yeah, right!  That’s why your hands are always grabbing my tits and trying to get into my butt……Does it feel good to slap her around, you prick…someone who won’t beat the crap out of you?”  She punched in from memory—hard--to Capt. Tso’s number at Emergency Response and Support, and practically yelled at him—a nice guy.  He knew why.
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #35 on: 06-15-2010 18:11 »

     Suzy’s eyes opened and looked at the snuggled in Fry still softly snoring with his arms and legs around her.  He looked so cute—so peaceful and content, she was afraid she might wake him but she carefully slipped out and put on his sneakers.  ‘Very handy: same size feet.’  She inspected his cabin and carefully looked at his pictures taped above his small desk.  Leela dominated the tableau.  ‘She is pretty,’ she thought.  ‘She would be really some very tough composition if she was a little nicer to Fry; she needs to chill about ten degrees Celsius.’  She examined his rock collection from the planets he had visited and looked carefully at a couple.  ‘He has four there that are very valuable.  I wonder if he picked them up for that or because they were pretty.’  She thought a moment.  ‘I hope because they were just nice rocks.’  His clothes drawers were pretty uninteresting, although some of his space suits and over-suits hanging in the closet were fascinating and she wondered how some of their parts worked.  ‘Could he feel me up if I was in another one of these, how about his hand between my legs?’  She almost got back in the bunk to wake up Fry with a way he was especially fond of but decided to go exploring instead.  She slipped on his red shirt and buttoned the minimum number of buttons required for modesty and went into the hall.  The one cabin was a mirror image to Fry’s except barer and she wondered who belonged here.  The third obviously was Leela’s.  She carefully inspected her shampoos and conditioners, her deodorant and body washes and creams and colognes—some that smelled heavenly and dabbed on a drop behind her ears and pulse points on the arms.  No perfumes.
She thought briefly of Goldilocks as she opened Leela’s drawers.  Not much or not very expensive makeup.  Some birthcontrol products, tampex, hemorrhoid depositories—oops, I know that’s uncomfortable, ointments and liquids for trichomoniasis,  thrush, chlamydia and other vaginal itches—one of which she jotted down that she might try later.  ‘This is the same baby powder I use.’  ‘And Vics, thank god for that wonderful menthol smell when I' m stuffed up and feverish and chilling.  Good lord, a douche kit.  I didn’t know anyone used those anymore.  Silly, she shouldn’t either, not knowing the traumatic experience that necessitated such a purchase and its regular use for almost two horrible weeks.  An eye glass and a sunglass—how cool is that?  I wonder if she ever tried a monocle?  Wouldn’t that look rakish!  Alas, she could never successfully wear an eye patch.  I wonder how her depth perception is; how about night vision with that larger pupil?  Wow, look at the assortment of rubbers—colors, textures, flavors.  Hmmm, strawberry!  I don’t know, I think I prefer natural for flavor, texture, color.  Wow, look at size of that reservoir; for RC priests who suddenly decide to give up a lifetime of celibacy in one night of delight no doubt.  Ok, an IUD and orals...hmm, she double dips; maybe triple: very careful or do various partners prefer different means?  Why in the hell don’t they ever take the prevention; what would be so wrong in that?’  Her pictures:  ‘obviously parents with the cyclopean eyes and is than a tentacle I see?’  There were a couple of Fry both by himself and two with her.  ‘Hmmm, not a big deal…until now.’  Some naked guy with a tenor saxophone.  ‘I wonder if he was any good.  And the sax, could he play that?’  A plaque from  the Cookieville Orphanarium and a letter from, oh my god, I know him, Kim Jung, my sahyun until he disappeared.  Yep, she’s good, very good.  Fry told me that but I wasn’t sure if he was qualified to judge her skills in taekwondo. Looks like she would have absolutely no trouble beating the crap out of me.  Hmm, not much imagination in clothes except very nice underwear.  Ooh I love these bras and I’m going to have to be careful not to slip this camisole on and walk out the door.  Her jackets are ugly—man look at this lime green off the rack affair, that sets a new standard for ugly--and Wait a minute!  Look at this.  She held up a blue dress on a hanger.  Oh my: that is lovely.  She must look stunning in that…I see she doesn’t like hats or hoods.  This is a really nice scarf—man, spider silk: tres chic!  Hmm, three radios, all set to npr outlets and one bbc: another thing we have in common.  I wonder if she’s a member or if she steals her programs?  Five different sugar-free coffee syrups: chocolate, vanilla, irish cream—yum, kahlua, almond.  That’s fun and a little backpacking French press!  Two cute demitasse cups.  A sparbucks-cum naked mermaid—hmm, two eyes but I see the resemblance of the two one of us—cup full of chocolate coffee beans.  Surely she’d share one, two, three, ahh I’m sure of it: four.  Ah, a small porcelain figurine of Peter Rabbit.  Oh, my.  These are beautiful.  She picked up a single strand of matched pearls.  What a unique slight blue tint.  Oh, that has to go with her blue dress.  She does have some nice things.  Not as many as mine but how many do you need.  Very nice.  Not the most personal of spaces but this is her cabin not her home.  I wonder if there’s much of a difference.   I wonder what she would think of my bedroom; my vaginal itches?  Whadyawannabet that she doesn’t think her crap stinks?’  ‘Well mine sure does.  That’s exactly why she would find a box of wooden matches in the john.’  ‘I wish I had her bidet.  Hmm, I should mention  it to Jill and how de'rigueur they are.  Still have to use matches.’
      Suzy spent a long time in the engine room and was not impressed with the galley.  I’ll bet the food that comes out of here is barely eatable.  I wonder if they need a professionally trained cook.  She was still impressed with Leela’s bidet and fully utilized it: that is thoughtful for an often all-male crew.  And she was dismayed with what she found in stores.  ‘Strike barely on that inedible.’  She yawned and headed back to Fry’s cabin where he was dreaming about the absent Suzy and was slowly moving his hips up and down.
     Leela arrived early, took a look around for an unusually early Fry or anyone else for that matter and then poured herself a cup of coffee.  She felt half-decent and was looking forward to being back on the bridge on her own ship.  She did a NNY Times Thursday crossword while she drank her coffee and was pleased to see that maybe she was getting better and she did the word jumble in twenty seconds having guessed the clue from the start.  She bombed out early in Sudoku and shrugged and said to herself, ‘It was better than Ted Williams ever batted: 400—big deal.  I wonder if he could have hit my beaner?’ 
     Leela took Hermes at his word: she would not have attend the staff meeting and he would bring up the manifest and instructions.  She would handle the delivery and get the signature of receipt.  ‘Hell, that looks good and now that I think about it, maybe this should be a permanent arrangement and I wouldn’t ever have to deal with Fry.’ 
     Ten minutes later as she was starting the checkoff, Hermes came up the gangplank carrying importantly—the only way he knew how—his precious still new model of the Elite Bureaucrat Clipboard.  He handed her the ship’s cargo manifest and the receipt.  “800m-tons of bales of mealy worms for the Wong Ranch.  Best not go down in the hold.  Some of those bales may burst and then there would be mealy worms everywhere you wouldn’t want them.  I asked Amy if she wanted to go on this trip but she shivered when I said mealy worms and I gather her mom and her aren’t speaking due to a missing grandchild.  You be alright by yourself?  “I got to send Bender in for a recall at Moms Robotics.  Might be serious but we’ve always known he’s had at least one screw loose.  Leela, get a good night’s rest and take tomorrow off.  Go to the ape fights; go bowling; go beat someone up; get laid.  Try to have a little fun and forget about the dork.  If you want me, I’m available: long term or one nighter.  But if you tell LaBarbara that, your termination papers are still on my desk.  Have a good easy flight.” and the Jamaican exited whistling carrying his now empty clipboard.
     She went through the weak lunar atmosphere and looked down at the merry-makers, vacationers, and lovers strolling through the Lunar Park.  She buzzed Captain Ahab’s whale ride and could imagine the inane music going on an on and on.  The lunar ride brought her stomach up several feet to her mouth and tears formed in her eye.  ‘Was it really that long ago?  Why didn’t we ever get together?’  She banked the ship and opened the throttle; it should be a nice leg to Mars and maybe Hermes was right, maybe she would go and get laid.  There were some pretty decent looking male prostitutes over at the sexateria: maybe Ratso!!  Maybe for the whole night.  Maybe the whole week if he offers a discount.  And there would never be any messy divorce papers.  That thought bothered her too.  Her last divorce had been surprisingly easy and it was only later than she worried she might have made a big mistake.
     Fry walked out in his underwear and did a doubletake at Leela.  “Hi, you’re here early.”
     Leela who had been chewing a double wad of double-trouble swallowed it and jumped two inches in her command chair.  “Fry!  What the fudge?  You dork.  It’s almost 8.45hours, what do mean early?
     “I guess I overslept again.  Sorry, I’ve been trying to get here early.  Well, one time won’t hurt and I’ll set three alarms tomorrow.”
     “You’re not supposed to be here.”
    “Why, not?”
     “Why aren’t you dressed?  Where in the hell is your red shirt?  I’ve only seen you once—and she swallowed a couple of times as she fought back the memory—without it.  She glanced at him and for the first time she noticed he had a pretty decent build.  Better than what she was going to find tonight at the sexateria.  He had nicely shaped abs and there was no beer belly and his legs looked better than hers although she thought if I shaved them once in a while that would not be so.  She smiled and then remembered his question.  I was taking this trip solo.  It’s an experiment of Hermes.  Thinks maybe he can save some money.
    “Without me.  Well that sucks.  We should have formed that union.  It’s not fair.  Where am I going to get another job in this economy?  No way in hell I qualify for UPS™; I checked.
    “Leela felt guilty.  This was probably her fault.  “Fry, you’re smart, able and qualified at a lot of things.  You probably could qualify for a new or supplementary career chip now.  I would be happy to recommend that to Terry if you’d like.”
     “Maybe.  Let me think about it.”
     “Fry, I’m really, really sorry about yesterday.  You did not deserve any of the things I said about you.  And I’m sorry I said what I did about your girlfriend.  She is probably really nice and good for you as well as good to you.  Better than me.  Anyway I’m…
     Fry noticed Leela’s eye widened and her mouth remained fixed on the ‘m’ of I’m…  He figured Suzie was standing behind him and he was hoping that she would not put her hands on him.
     Her left hand being contrary as the rest of her, caressed his cheek and then slid down to his neck where it pulled at him toward her as she bobbed her head and kissed him…about forty-five seconds too long by his thinking.  Leela’s eye had narrowed considerably but she was still silent.  That was good.
     It did not last.  “Well looky here.  We’ve got the girl friend almost in the flesh.  Suzy was just wearing Fry’s unbuttoned overshirt.
     “Hi, Leela.  Is it ok if I call you Leela or should it be Captain Turanga?
     “I’d prefer you didn’t call me anything or talk to me.”
     “Leela, I’m sorry I hurt you by falling in love with Fry.  I didn’t do it to hurt you.  Is there any way we can be friends?  When we get back, could I take you out for coffee or a drink, maybe lunch or I could pick you up after work and we could go out for dinner—girls’ night out—and we could talk?
     “What on earth do you think we’d talk about, girlfriend?  I don’t have anything in common with you.”
     “Fry.  Fry: we both love Fry.  Oh and we both know Kim Wong.”
     “Taekwondo and black belt, I assume, if you know Kim.  What level?”
     “I’m only fourth dan.  But I do have my own class.”
     “I’ll bet you can teach them a lot.  How to steal a fiancée, for instance.”
     “Bullcrap.  Fry was never your fiancée.  How many years he did ask you to just go out with him?  Ten?  How many times did you go in those ten years, purple hair?  Speaking of which, take a look.  She pulled Fry’s shirt open and ran her hand through her legs.  Well?”
     “I’ve seen better.”
     “I bet you have sweetheart, but I’m not asking for a tongue job, just take a look only.  The hair: the god-damned hair.  There’s hair between my legs.  I’m not bald.”
     “You’re right.  I’m wrong.  There’s even a mess of hair on your lip and all over your chin.  You going for a van dyke or just bull dike?”
     “Yep, you’re into lesbians alright—not that there Is anything wrong with that but maybe that’s why you hung Fry out to dry for ten years.
     “He loved me.  I loved him.  We were going to be married.  You stole him, bitch.
     “You never answered me before, Leeeeee-la.  Of those ten years of his asking you out, exactly how many times did you go out with him.  I assume you kissed him on the cheek sometime in there but how many times on the lips?  And you said you loved him, how many times did you tell him that?  In ten years, probably lots—lots of dates; lots of kisses; lots of I love yous.  How many you think, Leela?  Say one hundred and ten: 10 times a year: once a month with one month long vacations?  Maybe between 20 and 50: 2-5 times yearly?  How about less than ten?  Would that make it easier than saying none?  Leela?  Leela, am I wrong?  Say something—anything.”
     Leela’s eye had almost narrowed to a slit.  Fry was watching it and he knew what was coming.  He stepped in between them.  “God damn it, ladies.  Please stop this.  It’s not doing any good.”
    Leela barely whispered.  “Fry, get the hell out of here.  Now!”
    Suzy had been reading Leela’s face and body language also but she welcomed some kind of a confrontation.  It was going to take that to clear the air and she hoped she wouldn’t get hurt too badly or worse.  She knew what would do it.  “Fry, sweetheart, please do me a big favor.  Go back to your cabin and take your pants off and get into your bunk.  I’ll be there in a minute or two as soon as I take care of some business.  Please, lover, go now.” 
     Fry had no intention of leaving but he did carefully back up four, five, six steps.
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #36 on: 06-17-2010 02:14 »

On the sixth step, Leela exploded.  If it had been a cartoon, you would have seen smoke coming out of her ears, nose and mouth; there would have been an explosion in her head with a bubble that said ‘kaboom’.  She threw her fist at Suzy’s sternum.  Her left came up but it was her right foot that she threw and connected partially on the jaw and a lot on the side of the neck.  Her left lashed out at the nose but was blocked and Suzy’s fist slammed into Leela’s solar plexus.  When she involuntarily doubled over she knew the left foot would follow to her chin but actually it was her neck right above the carotid.  As she started to fall, Suzy’s other foot nailed her in the ribs.  Leela fell harder than she wanted but still went into a roll, came up on her hands and knees and then swept Suzy off her feet.  She grabbed her as she came down and put her in a headlock.  Leela was an excellent wrestler and it was that self-knowledge that got her into trouble.  At the same age she of a high school senior, she was never the caliber of world champion at 112lb—girls and boys.  She was never as good period as any all-Big Ten woman wrestler let alone the woman’s world champion at 122lb.  Big mistake: had she stayed with the martial arts, she would have easily come out on top, maybe with a bruise or two but definitely with a win and it would have looked easy.  On the mat, it wasn’t even close.  Suzy was no Amy, who attacked from the start and was not after a pin.  As soon as Leela had her in a headlock, Suzy was no longer there.  She put a knee into Leela’s back and one arm went to her neck shile the other pulled Leela arm up her back dangerously high: the pain was intense.  Suzy slipped out of that without releasing her and went to a half and then full nelson.  The strain on Leela’s neck as it arched was almost unbearable.  She was pulled up hobbling to keep up with her arm again at her back and suddenly her feet weren’t there any longer and she went face first into the mat with one knee on the back and the other on the neck.  Suzy’s hand and arm lifted the forehead and again the pain went through Leela. 
     Fry was the only spectator to this Amazonian battle.  Tears were in his eyes.  He did not know what to do.
     Suzy talked gently into Leela’s ear while keeping her head locked at an improbably angle and slightly increased the angle and the pain.  “This has to hurt, Leela…a lot.  Don’t you think it would be a good idea if we sat down with a cup of coffee and just talked about this instead?  Please.  I don’t want to hurt Fry’s best friend.  Ok, on three: one, two, and three.”  She let go and went on to her knees barely inches in front of the now kneeling Leela trying to see inside her head.  There were no smiles and Leela panted painfully.
    Leela felt she had never answered that question.  It had been foolish to assume she had and more foolish to let her go.  Her left fist broke Suzy’s nose; it collapsed and disappeared flush against her forehead.  Her right broke her jaw.  For someone who did not really care for soup or milkshakes, this was going to be hard to take.  As she went down Leela was up.  She swiveled and kicked, kicked very hard—you could hear it hit all over the ship.
     Fry never heard the whisper but he hoped it was something very similar to what had been said.  He was so relieved when Leela sat up.  He could not believe it when he saw Suzy’s nose disappear.  He would have bet it had been a bad image going through his head.  He jumped up, he rushed for Suzy who was trying to cover her head with the blood freely flowing from her nostrils and Leela’s same foot connected very hard with Fry’s head.  His head jerked up almost a foot up into the air and he settled finally on his back and his head look like it could turn like one of the owls he so hated.  His neck had been broken.  There was an inch gap between C2 and C3.  He was a rag doll neck on up.
     Both women—bleeding and bruised—stared and knelt beside him.  Their hands stroked him.   Their voices pleaded that he was ok.  He wasn’t.
     Leela’s chest and head hit the mat simultaneously and she wailed.  She pounded the mat.  She pounded herself.  She screamed.  She was incoherent except for the name ‘Fry’ which repeated over and over. 
     Suzy who had her hand resting on Fry’s cheek kept trying to call Leela through her broken jaw but to no avail.  She finally got up, grabbed Leela’s pony tail and slapped her as hard as she could.  She knelt down by her.  It was more a slow whisper but it was understandable.   “God damn it, Leela.  It was an accident.”  Blood continued to run down her face from her broken nose.  “You are not to blame—at least any more than me.  It’s not anybody’s fault.  But we have to help him now.  You have to get a hold of yourself and help me.  Ok?  Do you understand?”
     Leela snapped out of it.  The tears, the sniffling nose, the glassy eyes staring into void stopped.  She nodded.  “Do you know what to do?“
     “I have some experience and training but not enough.  The first thing we have to do is stabilize him.  Do you have a wide board, something like an ironing board we can wrap him in.”
     “There’s an ironing board in the galley, I’ll rip it off the wall.”
     “Great, where are the first aid supplies?”
     “Closest ones are in the same place.  I’ll get them or you can get them but I need to check us out, get back on course and put us on autopilot.  Do you know how to fly something like this?”
     “No way in hell.”
     “No kidding.  I think that’s the only thing you can’t do.  You earned and deserve your black belts.  I’ve never been hit harder.  You are something else, no wonder Fry is infatuated with you.  Hell, I’m starting to feel that way and it wasn’t your hairy pussy.”
     Suzy laughed.  The pain in her jaw stopped that silliness fast.  It still felt kind of good to have started and despite the pain she smiled and reached out to Leela.
     Leela took her hand and held it hard.  She started crying.  “I am so sorry.  I’ve caused nothing but pain and trouble.  I could tell Fry was in love with you and that I had lost him.  I lost him because I never trusted him.  Hell, I never trusted myself.  I lost him.  There is no way you could have stole him.  You were right, I never had him.  I never wanted him until very recently, until it was too late.”  They hugged and held onto one another.  Leela’s eye suddenly went wide.  “The ship!  And she scrambled to her station mid-bridge.  They were lucky that nothing had gotten in their way.  Despite being free to roam, they continued pretty close to the correct course. 
     Suzy put her hand on Leela’s shoulder as she set it in autopilot.  “Thank you, Leela.  That took a lot of courage to admit that.  I would hate to be hit by you when you’re really angry.”
     Leela belly laughed for a good five minutes.  Suzy went to get the ironing board and the first aid supplies.
     They wrapped him to the board in bandages keeping his head at it’s weird angle and made a brace for the neck to further keep it that way.  They placed him in bed with his feet six inches higher than his head.  Suzy injected him with morphine.  She found a bottle of brandy in the galley and she poured two stiff drinks.  ‘Oh the hell with it’, she downed her Tylenol 3 with a gulp of the brandy. 
     “Not as good as my roommate’s cognac, but pretty tasty.  I think we both deserve it.
     “Leela said, “Amen and I suggest a second of the first.”
     “Excellent idea, girl.  You know, I like you.  When Fry is no longer in crisis, can we be friends?  I would like that a lot.”
     “Me too.  That’s two excellent ideas in less than one minute.  We’re on a roll.  What do we need to do with Fry now?”
     “He’ll keep but we need to get him real medical attention.  Is there a hospital nearer than Mars?”
     “Mars does a great medical complex what with the medical school there but maybe we can find a medical ship nearby.  Let’s take a look……There’s a ship large enough to show up on the radar about a half an hour from here.  We’ll try it.”
     “Unknown space cruiser in the Danube sector, this is PE ship Delta Charlie one, seven, one, six Alpha.  We have a crew member down with a medical emergency.  Can you provide assistance?”
     “This Lt Commander Kroker of the Nimbus, Alpha class of DOOP starship cruiser.  We have medical facilities and trained personnel aboard.  We can provide assistance.  We’re about an estimated twenty two minutes apart.  We’ll see you about half way there.  Further estimate of time will be provided upon analysis of speed of craft.  Good luck and out.”
     “I know him Leela said to Suzy who was trying to take everything in.  He’s the fiancée of my friend, Amy.  Unfortunately his Captain, Zap Crapper, comes with him.  But we need him.  Prepare yourself, Suzy, you will soon be introduced to a real piece of work, Zap Brannagan.”
     “His reputation precedes him but apparently that is inaccurate.”
     “It’s accurate but you have to read all the asterisks and between the lines to understand that this guy is a real jerk you will soon learn to avoid and hate.”
     “I would still think you are more than a match for him Captain.”
     “It’s like whack-a-mole:  you hit him and an identical one pops up one foot over.  There is no end to Zap or his stupidity and hubris.”
     “Is this Leela?  I just realized you said PE ship.  We’re ten minutes apart.  Who is hurt?”
     “Hi, Kif.  It’s Fry.  He has a broken neck.  He’s stabilized at the moment but he’s gonna need some attention.”
     “Attention that we can easily provide.  Don’t worry Leela, he’ll be ok.  Can I assume Amy is not on board?”
     “Sorry, Kif.  We’re on our way to make a delivery to Wongs.  She and her mom are not speaking again.”
     “It’ll almost be as good to see you again.  I’ll try to forestall passing this information on to the idiot as long as possible.  In the meantime, prepare yourself for the worst.  He usually sinks to the occasion.  Out”
     “I didn’t realize there would be so many of your friends in space.  I was going to say it’s a small world but I guess that would not be applicable to the universe.  Are Kif and Zap from earth?  Or is the reason Zap is so horrible is because he is a strange alien?”
     “Ha.  Ironically Kif is the alien from Amphibios-9.  Yet is more human, if that is a compliment, than Zap though supposedly from earth really is alien and strange.  Kif’s sins are he is shy, he is overwhelmed by his captain, and is too nice to suffer constantly.  He has no exit unless Zap is killed, retires, or is promoted which is inconceivable but he does have USE President Nixon’s full backing.  Perhaps this president will resign again.  I’m going to get busy in a minute or two.  Why don’t you go sit with Fry and tell him you love him.  With that morphine, lord knows what he’ll hear or understand but he might appreciate your presence on some level.  Tell him hi for me and that I’m really sorry--again.”
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #37 on: 06-17-2010 17:41 »

     “Can Fry get decent care on Kroker’s ship?”
     “Oh, he would be so pleased to hear you say it that way.  Yes.  They’ve given Fry and me attention more than I care to remember but it was always as good, if not better, than earthside.  The doc in charge, Veejay Singh is a real kick although a little strange.”
     “Stranger than your company doctor, the one Fry went to get a sick leave?  Uh, Voidberg?”
     “Ha!  That more appropriate that his real name, Zoidberg.  Uh, stranger but much, much better and considerably less human.”
     “Hmmm, how could you be less human than a … uh, lobster?”
     “Close enough.  Actually a decapodian-10 but I’ll bet he’d boil up just fine and be great served with a little drawn butter and chives but we both better get huge bibs; we’d get pretty messy.  Well no heartbeat for one:  Dr. Singh is a  robot, one of Mom’s Medical Robotery’s finest.  Except he has the best bedside manner, I’ve ever seen.  Most of his patients, men and women--including me--usually fall in love with him after a couple of consultations.  And his fuzzy logic didn’t come from Mom’s.  As you’d expect, his diagnoses are quick and extremely accurate if you can answer his questions and sometimes that is no mean trick.  But the intuitive jumps he makes is beyond logic; it’s like he enters your body and goes sub-cellular and more.  I wish I knew who programmed him; I’ll bet Mom does too.  Singh will provide excellent care for Fry and do anything that can be done.  We should have him take a look at your nose too—sorry.”
     “I thought maybe you’d like it a little to have it heal somewhat misshapen, you know someone Fry would compare a little second best to you: the old I-wonder-if-I-made-a-mistake thing.”
     “Ha ha ha ha ha ha.  Ok, maybe a tiny bit.  But I don’t want either the pity factor to flare up or, and this would be worse, what the fudge did that amazon do to my Sweetheart?  On the other hand, you know it could give you a really rakish and mysterious look.”
     “Yeah, like that cryogenic Sly in Rocky CCLIV.  Maybe I should have a cauliflower ear or two.”
     “Yep, that’s going to be the rage this year.  There’s hope for me yet.  Hey, we’re getting a visual.  You’re going to get to see what the Amphibian-9, Kif looks like.  Hopefully it’ll be Kif and not some lower animal…”
     “Hi, Leela.  One minute to contact, our doors are open now and I’m chilling some refreshments—fresh pressed apple cider--and Dr. Singh is waiting in the cargo bay with his team.  He would like you to send over Fry’ vitals and give him a quick visual of our patient.  I’m going to try to create a diversionary tactic with our illustrious Captain to keep him busy for a while.  Did you talk to Amy?”
     “Fry’s friend, Suzy who you saw sitting next to me, is running down to the sickbay to comply with your request.  I’m sorry but we’ve been a little busy and I haven’t had time to get a hold of your true love.  She’s going to be crushed she missed you.”
     “No doubt she will have to go out shopping and console herself with another pair of shoes.”  I have a visual of the Fry now.  I’ll sign off and walk down to the cargo bay as soon as I talk to his buttwholer.  Out.”
     “Captain, I talked to our chief engineer, Scotty and he told me he fine-tuned the hologram room even more.  I checked it out and Barbie looks really good and is tres hot to trot, sir.” 
     “Barbie?  You trespassed in the lovenaseum and talked with the voluptuous Barbie?  How dare you, Lt. Commander Kroker?
     “No sir, you are thinking of Linda.  I didn’t have the conversation you envision with your blow up bimbo, Linda”.  I tried out the holographic Barbie in the hologram room.  She wants to see you, sir.”
     “Hah.  Wants a real man: not you, Kif.  Have you started that strengthening regimen I mapped out for you, you 98-pound weakling, you?”
     “I’ll get to it as soon as my duties permit, sir.”
     “See that you do L-C Kroker, see that you do for your love life’s sake.  How that sexy little Martian can stand to be near you is beyond me.  Obviously Martians have weird love relations customs.  I’d be leery if I were you, Kif old boy.  Who knows what the consummation of your marriage rites will entail?  Perhaps I should give it a dry run just so you would be on the safe side.   Hmm, that would be typically noble of me.  Write that down in my day planner, would you l-c?  Ok, I’ll make Barbie’s day and go visit her.  In the hologram room, you say: How typically sexy of that slut, Barbie.  She is lusting after that sweet, sweet, candy.  Cancel the rest of my activities for the day.  Ta ta; a hunting we shall go.”
       “Captain Tso, this is home sweet home maybe for a week.  I went to school in this building, third grade through sixth.  Was not my the favorite time of my life.  Have your crew store everything they don’t need to sleep with in the gym.  Make sure your rockets are pointed toward an outward wall and preferably at a double door.”
     “All our rocketry is not live.  When we need some, it’ll only take a minute or two; they’re safe.”
     “Captain, I don’t recall asking you if they were live or not.  And you did not acknowledge my order to you.  Do you need it repeated?”
    “No sir.  All rockets will be placed as you want.”
     “Now don’t get huffy inside that head of yours.  The thing is, the reason I’m alive today and talking to you is that I don’t believe in fairy tales.  You prepare for the unexpected, understand?”   
      “You know, Burkhart told me something really similar once.  Must have got that from you, I guess.”
     “Uh, I’m surprised Burkhart ever listened to anything I ever told him.  I’m glad he took at least one lesson to heart.  If I teach a man one thing that will keep him on this earth one day longer than otherwise, I’ll die a happy man.”
     “Yes sir, your wisdom is an inspiration to us all.”  He smiled.
     “Listen Captain.  If I hear ever so much as snippet—however much that is—of any of this conversation getting to Burkhart, you’ll find yourself on the next early morning lauch to protect our interests in the ice moons of Dune-4.  I know your Harvard-trained wisdom is two or three levels higher than mine, so do you understand this low-German?  That’s either a yes, sir or no, sir.”
“Yes, sir.  Burkhart will never hear it from me.”
“Hmmm, ok.  Field orders.  Start foot patrols in pairs with constant communication.  Ten pairs up East23 ten minutes apart from here to one block past IHOPe on same.  1st, 5th and 10th into IHOPe for coffee or whatever and will be relieved by next. Obviously, these pairs will be in mufti and only concealed sidearms.  Two pairs at Madison Square park and every hour carefully check the apartment 1404.  Madison square couples in constant contact with themselves as well as this school.  Minimum of eight in reserve in full battle dress with some of your rocketry ready live.  No naps, no daydreaming, no reading.  If one of these ten has to take a leak, make sure he obtains one replacement while he is gone.  Make sure everyone knows that no contact is to be made unless there is at least a minimum of four other pairs present—that is ten—and that command post has been notified to hit the panic button.  Rules of engagement are as follows:  shoot to kill without provocation.  Try not to make a mess but full collateral damage including death is acceptable.  I don’t want anyone even thinking the words mercy and harmless.  You will be at this command post until the confirmed sighting is made and you can come in with your ten and the rest to follow when fully equipped.  Make sure two are sent at that time to the rocket port and shut down all taxis, busses, trains, blimps, tubes and personal traffic.  Anybody in any of those after that order is given is a a dead man.  Inform police, local fbi, local atf, sherriff, and boyscouts of action but to stay the fudge away; if they show up and they’re in the way, they’re toast.  I shall be here monitoring communication.  Anyone loses him, there is a full service review board and yes hanging is a perfectly acceptable sentence for incompetence.  Any questions, Captain.  No?  Ok, bring him back to me, dead or alive.  Oh, and Captain, make sure Burkhart or any of his fine upstanding sources are not notified.  He is to be ordered out of the area if he somehow shows up.  If he returns or refuses, shoot him.  Well, just don’t stand there with that question or stupid comment hanging on your lip, get your ass in gear.”
     “Hernandez?  If anything comes up, I’m over at Planet Express.  You’re in charge and don’t be afraid to kick the Captain’s butt; tell him it’s from me on my orders.  Call me if you have any questions.  Do not ask the previously mentioned useless Captain.  Understand?”
     ”Xed-Out!  God damn it, Kif.  Where the hell are you?”
     “Uh oh.  Quickly, around that corner.  First cabin on right is mine.  I’ll try to be there in a minute.”
     ‘’Ah ha.  My useless exec., I…Wait!  You there, in the purple pony tail.  Stop.  That is a direct order.  Stop and come back here.  Ah ha ah ah ah…Oh, lord, I thank you for the bountiful breasts that runneth over as I prepare to suck.  The lovely and lone Leela on my ship and in need of accompaniment .  I somehow missed you when you arrived.  I can assume that red hair mat is not on board and failed to escort you.  I assure you my dear, that would never happen with muy, your swabe capitan, you luscious peach, so ripe, so firm, mmm, so ready for picking.  Come with to my humble lovenaseum and we’ll discuss the finer points of orgasm and ejaculation.  And speaking of the latter, where would you like it THIS time, hmmm.  I can offer several erotic and exciting suggestions.”
     “Kif, you are still here?  See that my steward prepares us a fine bottle of domestic boxed sham-pagnee.  Say a young vintage: this month or earlier.”
     “Steward, sir?”
     “You, Kif.  Get cracking.”
     “Zap.  Captain.  This is not the time to be celebrating.  I should be with Fry in your sickbay.  I’m afraid he has broken his neck and is in serious condition.  Your medical specialist, Dr. Singh is with him now as we speak.  I should be with him.”
     “Fry?  That erstwhile companion of yours?  Broken neck?  Of course we should be celebrating…I mean, celebrating his life, my dear friendship with him.  We have lots to celebrate.  Come with me to the causebar; the figs are ripe and the tomato is heard on the winds of the evening.
     “Zap!  I insist.  I must be by Fry’s side.  It may be my last opportunity.”
     “Yes, let us hope so.  I…Hello, who are you my dear and welcome to my virile and sexy starship.  As you can see, I am its virile and sexy captain.  Your name is…?”
     “I’ve heard of you Captain.  My name is Suzy and I am a friend of Fry.”
     “How that little red-headed kid manages to surround himself with such beauties, I shall never understand.  May I give you tour of MY ship?”
     “You may escort Leela and myself down to sickbay.  We would like to be with our good friend, Fry.”
     “Of course, I had just offered Ms. Leela here the same courtesy.  Please take my arm.  Leela, follow us if you will.  On the left—the gilded door with the honor guard in bearskin capos, that is where the lonely captain goes to escape the massive weight of command.  I would dearly love someone to talk to in order to ease this massive burden from my shoulders.  Someone who could help me relax.  Someone who could remind me that I am a man who needs a woman to live.  Wait.  Oh mother of  god, what a miracle.  You might be that woman, Suzy.  You might be the very woman who would save me from the depths of despair.  Oh save me my princess.”
     “Captain, I suggest while you in sickbay, you ask your good doctor for a strong sedative and the possibility of electroshock therapy.  I understand they have unchained the lunatics at Bedlam and provided drugs to set them free or at least put them in a continual stupor.  Very much as effective as your basic lobotomy which has been banned by the USESCPA in your case. “
     “Leela.  Come up here and take my other or second arm and please tell me something of this Sexy woman and then please bring up her things to my quarters.  You can sleep on the floor of the infirmary with your precious broken necked Fry.”
     “Captain.  I believe you are familiar with my dear Uncle Jefferson.  Admiral Jefferson.  Fleet Admiral Jefferson.  He, I believe, is your commanding officerl.  You do know him, don’t you?
     “Er, yes.  I have had the honor to meet him on several occasions.”
     “Yes, your performance evaluations no doubt.  Of which one is almost due, isn’t it?  I believe I remember my Uncle muttering something like that and then swearing at something obscene.  He was awfully angry about something; I would awfully hate to be the poor person he was going to let loose on.  You don’t suppose it about you trying to go into light speed while in dry-dock.
     “It was a legitimate bold move of which I am famous for.  It completely confused my enemies.”
    “Odd my uncle said which were not nearer than seven parsec but then also said which were legion.  Do you understand that?  Hmmm, if you can provide me a good stenographer or court reporter, I would like to draw up some notes for my Uncle.  Please continue, whatever you were telling us.  I’m sure my uncle will be interested in that as well.  Oh, well met Kif.  The Captain Zap has just informed us he will be busy in the engine room shoveling dark matter; pretty heavy and back-breaking work isn’t it Captain Brannigan?  I’m sure my uncle would be impressed if you actually shoveled seven metric tons of the disgusting smelly stuff.  Would you do us the kindness to escorting Leela and myself to Fry in sickbay before you start on those seven metric tons.”
     “It’s been a pleasure meeting you Captain.  I hope to see you soon at your courtmartial.  Thank you so much for your hospitality”.  “Come Leela.”  She whispered into Leela’s ear, “Your mouth is open my dear.”
[Tune in tomorrow for our Soap on location in deep-space on the DOOP cruiser, The Nimbus!]
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #38 on: 06-18-2010 07:17 »

[Wow; a twofer.  Second installement of the day forthcomingish:]

     “Welcome back to my hidey-hole Leela.  The bold crew of the PE:  Capt Leela and First Mate Fry, always in harm’s way; always one or the other as Mr. Dumpty with me, lowly king’s horse—rear end part.  I am glad to see you are walking without a walker, Ms. Turanga although, don’t get me wrong, I love examining and treating you.”
     “Hi, Doc.  How’s he doing.
     “You just missed the reference to the walker.  You’re slipping, my dear.  A clean and bold tracer over the Captain’s head and she fails to note.  Tsk tsk.  I gave him a strong sedative; he’ll be out twelve hours or more.  We can wheel him out to your sickbay when you are ready to depart from the cruiser”
     “He’s walking.  Oh Doc, bless you.  I love you.”
    “Hugs and kisses are always welcome.  The USEMA has yet again failed to come to consensus, but rest assured, this doctor shall always seek them out.”
     “Doctor Singh, it is my pleasure to provide both to you.  You are truly a miracle.  His back: it was not broken like we assumed.”
     “Your diagnosis was correct.  He took massive trauma at cervical vertebrae C1 & C2.  The dipcrap author assumed for some reason it C2 & C3: he’s wrong.  There was a very nasty break between the former.  You did well to immediately immobilize him.  And just as important, administering the morphine.  His spinal cord was torn badly as it was; I would not want any more injury to the site and still expect the same outcome.”
     “Wait a second doc.  You said his spinal cord was torn, as is torn apart or ‘just’ a minor tear along the side or something?”
     “Alas the former but now put back together and is knitting as we speak.: knit one’ pearl one.”
     “Uh, I thought nerve tissue did not regenerate.”
     “Right you are.  One of your curses of you being a lowly mammal.  Upon your next time around, ask if becoming a robot is possible.  Things are so much easier.  And please spare me crap about not being able to feel or to love.  Hate:no; love:yes.  It’s the best of both worlds.”
     “‘So, how?  I mean how is the nerve cord growing back together?”
     “Trade secret and a patient with an uncommon will to live, to feel, to walk and love.  I assume that is for you.”
     “I wish, Dr. Singh. I wish with all my heart.  Your reason for Fry’s healing is behind you.”
     “Kif?  I had no idea.  Well no matter.  This occurs in robots quite normally as well but it does make it sticky for Amy does it not?”  “Kif, you sly Lieutenant Commander, congratulations!”
    “The woman standing next to the open-mouth Kif, sir:  Suzy:  Suzy James Anderson, one classy  woman and the one person I shall be able to accept beating me out for the hand of Fry.”
     “My hand, my dear is always open to you.  You would make a great assistant and mate standing by my side, slapping the forceps into my palm before I knew I needed them.  I assure you Zap will present no problem to my wife, be it either a neutering or lobotomy or both.  I could easily perform both on his monthly ear de-waxing.  I assure you never need to consummate the marriage with my rusty—literal and figurative—part if that is your wish although medically, I can guarantee I would satisfy you very well.  What would be most certainly required is that you meld your wonderful mind—so full of love, vicious humor and infectious intelligence with mine—such as it is.  I would also have the right anytime that was convenient for you, to gaze upon your physical body particularly that eye and that purple cascade.  If this proposal—such as it is or ever shall be— interests you, please come see me after mess.  Prime rib tonight and grog; oh a military ship for me!  Yo ho the wind blows free!!.”
     “Of all the proposals I shall ever receive, this one is the one I shall treasure.  I’m sorry, Doctor, I want a man who will bleed for me and 10w40 just does not have the same cachet.  I hope you understand.”
     Of course.  Of course.  I do understand.  These marriages are always difficult at best and you are wise for following your heart.  I am gratified you have taken the loss of Fry so well.  No doubt from the very instance of his love for Susan.”
     “Cough, cough, ackk, errr  hack.”
     “Good heavens, Susan.  You should have a doctor look at that cough.  Hmmm, and maybe your nose as well.  Why don’t slip off your clothes, would you like one of those useless airy gowns?  And sit up here on my exam table, please.  Alright, open wide and say ahhhhhhhh.”
     “Doc, if I opened wide it would be more of a scream.  I may have a slight small and tiny fracture in my jaw.”
     “You do?  You do.  Good heavens.  And your bruises and cuts.  Have you fighting pirate lords, Susan?”
     “Pirate queen actually but we’re friends now.”
    “Hmmm, well see that you stay that way.  A little more force or angle, this might have been far different: possibly death.”
     “No great loss, Doctor, ask Leela.  May I also I kiss you—very carefully—for your miracle with Fry.”
    “Ah, that sort of Bear.  It would, I assure, be my pleasure.  You are my kind of patient.  Ok, I think you’ll find this to be a rather unobtrusive brace that you may not even notice.  It will facilitate healing and pain quite effectively.  No chewing, no yawning for one week and then go easy the second.  Please partake of liquids only for one week—soups, smoothies, milkshakes but absolutely no chewing and no fellatio regardless of what inducement Fry might offer.  Your brace will be absorbed.  Now let’s take a look at that former proboscis.  Hmmm.  Ok, I’m sorry, but this is going to hurt.  I would give you a local but the needle going into the subcutaneous cartilage would hurt like hell, worse than what I’m going to do.”
    “What are you going to do.”
    “See these.  I assure they are not ordinary heavy duty pliars.  Think of them as a finely crafted surgical tool designed for this very procedure.  Pulling your cartilage back out from your forehead in hopefully a shapely manner.  On four, ok?  One, two…”
     “Arrrrrgaaaaahh  owwwwwwwe yowwwe, whimper.”
     “There, that wasn’t too bad, was it?”
     “Doctor, are you sure that is not restricted by the New Geneva Convention.”
     “Ah, excellent question.  But remember, the USE is not a signatory.  Water boarding is next and most refreshing.  I would strongly urge you to avoid any further feet in the facial area,” Doctor Singh glanced over at Leela.  “for at least one week.  And let me put something on these cuts and bruises.”
     “Leela, up.  Up, here.  You’ve got something under that t-shirt and bra that’s going to require attention.  Let’s do it so you can get a decent night’s sleep tonight.  Hmm, just as I thought.  I can see Suzy, you are quite good in something however not as good as Leela.  I don’t want to know about it.  Leela, I am going to speak plainly here.  Don’t you dare try to tune me out:  You are putting your baby at great risk.  I have not done, nor do I see the need to do so, a gynological exam but it does not take that to enable ten board certifications to recognize a fetus in your womb.  You do want to carry it to term, I assume?  Then stop this silliness, right now.  If you have not done so, shake hands and give each other a hug.  Have you talked about the possibility of sharing  the young Fry.  Sometimes part of something is better than the whole thing; consider please a bottle of 28yr old scotch, single malt.  Please let me put it this way.  I recommend strongly, no, I insist, that there be no rematch, ever.  Do I make myself clear, ladies?  Excellent.  Now who wants a shot of Everclear, hmmm?  Ok, ok, mammalia!  Scotch, single malt, 28yrs, ok?  But only one shot, the stuff is more expensive than my best synthetic opiates.  Here’s to Fry and all his ladies; bottoms up and such pretty derrière they are.”
     Suzy’s mouth was wide open despite the brace which should have prevented it and the fracture which was hurting like hell; she never noticed either.  Besides Fry, she was also in love with Dr. Singh.  She wished like hell he had proposed to her!!  God damn all the luck: a cyclopean eye and purple hair!
    Kif related the story of Suzy’s conversation with Captain Brannagan to a most appreciative Dr. Singh.  “Susan James Anderson, are you really a niece to Fleet Admiral Jefferson?”
     “Well, I could be but not that I am aware of.  I have heard that he has not always seen eye to eye with the Captain and he’s threatened to demote him on more than one occasion.  It was not a hard roll to play.  My Ophelia at Moo U was much harder, shakier and much less definitive.”
     Leela was dumbfounded.  “You, you deserve another boot in the jaw.  I swore he was your uncle!“
     Doctor Singh laughed and orated.  “O Captain my Captain! our fearful trip is done/ The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won/ The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all are glad/ And the crew celebrates with grog: the captain has been had!!  Three cheers for Susan:  Hip hip harroo, Hip hop Harumm, Hop hop roohum!!  You are officially a member of the Nimbus Medical, Clam,  Poteen and Everclear Society; dues are payable to me and welcome aboard.”
     The radio room erupted with laughter and the specialist with large earphones missed two incoming messages for the Doctor.
     The captain kept busy in the engine room shoveling dark-matter until the floor was slippery with sweat.  He cursed Admiral Ferguson and just vaguely heard the laughter coming from the radio room.   ‘Probably laughing at my executive officer.’
     “Young lady, may I see either the office manager or the CEO or CFO?  My name is Major Thomas Anderson.” 
     “Major?  With what service, DOOP?”
     “Andy cursed inside, ‘Why in hell did I say Major, why not just plain Tom?’
     ‘Hmmm, just a guess, but I’d say you were trying to impress this cute Chinese…Korean?...girl.’
     ‘God, you know, you sound just like that prick, Burkhart.  Get the hell out here!’
     “Major, are you alright?”
     “Huh?  Oh, yes, of course.  Sorry, I was just day dreaming, about you I guess.  You know, I was a major  year ago, I’m retired now.  I guess I said Major to maybe impress you.  You look so pretty and, I hope I don’t offend you, but exotic too.  I thought if you were impressed—as if that would happen—you might go for dinner or a drink later with me.  Would you consider showing your city to a nice gentleman?
     “Gee, Tom.  I’m engaged and…  You know, Kif isn’t here; he’s never here.  I would like to go out tonight.  Would you like me to make reservations for two at Elzar’s, Tom?  Say, seven thirty?  My name is Amy, by the way.  Amy Wong, of the Mars Wongs.  May I call you Tom?”
     “My friends call me Andy and I hope you will be a friend…a girl friend.  Instead of you being impressed, I am.  THE Wong Heiress: beautiful and rich!  My god!!  And even more amazing, you are willing to go out with me for a simple repast.  Praise the lord and the lottery people.”
     “It won’t be a simple repast.  Elzar does not do simple.  If he served nothing; it would be presented beautifully and the spice weasel would make it a delectable treat.  I hope you brought your wallet with you because, alas, he is not cheap.”
     “If I have to wash dishes for the maestro for a month or two, it would well be worth it for the privilege of taking the beautiful Amy out to dinner.  My pleasure, I assure you whatever the cost.”
     “Amy—may I call you Amy?—your Kif must be one lucky man when he is around.  Where is he now? and why is he not at your side? like I would most certainly be if I had that opportunity.
     “Are you flattering me on purpose, Andy?  Because it is certainly working.  Kiff is a lieutenant commander with DOOP.  He currently is Zap Brannagan’s exec and if you look over your right shoulder at about forty degrees, he’s there, one hundred twenty two thousand kilometers from me.”
“Zap Brannagan huh?  Zap’s XO?  I’ve only heard rumors of Captain Brannagan but they all reach consensus on his having a certain elan.  XO, or not, he should be at your side.  He is a foolish man.  Now, I am very sorry to say it, but I would like to see one of the afore mentioned people if they are available to see me.  Could you please help me with that, Amy?”
     “Of course, Andy.  The Professor is taking a nap at this time of the day—well pretty much any time but I’ll ask Hermes Conrad if he can see you.  One minute please.  Oh, you never mentioned what service you were with.
       ‘Hmmm, if I’m going out with her and maybe sleeping  with her—I’ll bet this little minx can really put out—I may as well tell her the truth.  Why lie when a simple truth will suffice?’
     “Sorry, I was day dreaming again about your beauty and dancing with you under the stars tonight.  You dance beautifully, you know.  I was a major with the NSA.  I do consulting for them now.”
     “Wow, a spymaster.  Please say Anderson…Tom Anderson!! Da da daa-aa!
     “I could never say it as sexily or lovely as you do Amy but please keep thinking along those lines for tonight.  Please.  Tonight we shall have champagne while playing roulette at Monte Carlo and you will be the mysterious beautiful, exotic, and mysterious Anderson-girl.  My lord, I’m shivering.”
     “Hmm, me too, Bond….Tom Bond!! Da da daa-aa!
boo rad

Bending Unit
« Reply #39 on: 06-18-2010 14:02 »
« Last Edit on: 06-19-2010 16:38 »

[up before the sun just so I could give you one more mediocre installment--that and my wifekicking me out of bed so she could roll over and go back to sleep and the dog swearing it was time everyone was to be fed--now: back to the Nimbus, forthwithlyish:]

       “You want Fry’s address and his personnel file?  May I see your identification again?  Why did Amy say you were retired from the NSC?  This says you are very much employed there.”
     “I was on the NSC.  This is just NSA now.  Ah, just trying to lay a little low, Hermes.”
     “And this concerns…?”
     “Classified.  But I may tell you it is most important.”
     “Is Fry in trouble or in danger?”
     “Here, would you please sign this receipt as well as this pledge you will not remove any item from       the file?”
     “Of course.  You would have made a good NSA man, Hermes.”  Andy rolled his eyes inside his head and snorted.
     Hermes Conrad beamed widely.  He asked, “Are you in charge of this operation or is that classified as well, Mon?”
     “No.  Yes, I am in charge.  Why do you ask?”
     “Well if you are in charge then it won’t hurt to say but you are the third man—all from the NSC, er NSA—to ask me—this glorious Jamaican--for that file.  They demanded I pledge to keep that secret but if you’re in charge, you already know about it, right Mon?  Early this morning a young man named Treyhart Silver Windsor asked first.  Two hours later a much older man—grey hair—named Burkhart also asked.  Popular file, huh; must be good as a cold Red Stripe?”
     A string of obsceneties tore through Major Anderson and he quickly perused the file and wrote down one address and a phone number.  “Uhmmm, something has come up.  Would you please tell the lovely Amy Wong I am going to have to take a rain check.  Tell her SMERSCH is afoot and I’ll call her later if you would be so kind to give me her phone number?  And not to be overly dramatic, but also would you mind if I quickly and quietly slipped out your window here?  Thank you for your assistance; it was most interesting.”
    “ I thought about asking you if we could skip Mars and take Fry home immediately.  Over-reacting, huh?”
     “Very much so:  I thought of the same thing.  I asked Dr. Singh and he said Fry’s going to sleep through the whole thing any way so he may as well get a ride out of it.  I would like to say how very, very much I appreciated you being here, taking charge—both with me and that cretin--and helping.  And your conversation and company have made the flight seem much shorter.”
    “Thank you.  That is sweet of you to say so and very typical of you, I might add.”  Susan then laughed.  “But, please let me remind you.  If I hadn’t been here, none of this would have happened and you would have had an easy flight and delivery and would be home by now.  Leela, could I ask you something?  No, wait.  Let me think about that.  Another time, please.”
     Part of that is right I guess but the flight would not have been easy.  I was so friggin’ miserable.  Hermes’ god-damned special revenue-generating delivery would never have been made.  I believe I would have flown most assuredly into a star or a black hole if I could find one.  It might be an interesting way to die if it wasn’t immediate.  It must be an awesome experience.  But living is better and I have you to thank for that.  I was very serious when I said you were the only person I could have relinquished Fry to. I’m happy for both of you.  I love Fry.  I think it won’t be long before I say the same thing about you.  That’s Mars ahead.  We’ll be there in just under one hour.  Did you ever see that ancient feature film, Giant, with that cute James Dean?  Maybe I would not have given him up so easily.  The Wong ranch is a spitting image of Giant’s ranch house.  No cattle though but they do have a herd of a reasonable facsimile thereof.  Mr. Wong is pretty nice.  Mrs. Wong—Inez—is a piece of work.  Have more god-damned money than they know what to do with.  You’ll like them, if you’re not depriving Inez of her grandchild, she can be charming and interesting.  Prepare to be badgered in staying the night, week, month, year.  We have to get Fry back.  I guess.  Come to think of it, I don’t know why.  Doc gave me a couple of replacement bottles of morphine, some of the newest synthetics as well as pain pills for Fry.  Maybe we should stay for a while.  We can talk like you wanted.”  They both laughed.  
     Suzy wondered and wondered and wondered if she really would have gone through that resolve with the baby inside her—Fry’s baby.  Her baby, hopefully soon.  How could Fry not have told her?  Was he afraid of how she would react?  Or despite of what he says and what he does, does he love Leela and intend to marry her—the mother of his child?  She knew she was not going to get any sleep tonight and maybe not the next night either until so exhausted, she would just drop and have horrible dreams.  ‘Fudge!!!!’  ‘Hell, this is a horrible dream.  This is a friggin’ nightmare.  Maybe I’m going to wake any second from now.  God damn it, I hope so.’
     “Fry!  Now this is more like it.  He’s back, baby!  All right!!  Fry!  Let’s go out and get bombed: celebrate.  Fry?  Fry?  You can run but you can’t hide.”  Bender looked around again and smiled.  Their apartment was a mess.  Drawers pulled open and dumped upside down.  Those god-damned flower pots dumped on the floor.  The entire food items pulled out of the cabinets, refrigerator, freezer.  Cereal boxes emptied.  “Wait one mo-fu minute now.  Nooooooo!!!!!!!!!!  Not the beer!”  The beer had been emptied.  “There’s a limit you know.  There’s a god-damned limit to messiness!!!”
     Major Anderson turned on his light in the principal’s office and pulled off his oversized shoes from his       tired feet.  His feet were always tired.  “God damn it.  I had that little Asian bitch eating out my hand.  She was as good as in bed with me.  That damned psycho.  I hope you’re happy, Spider Silvitch or whatever your jerkbutt nom d’guerre is these days; I hope you’re damned happy!”
     20lb fishing line—a noose—quietly slipped over the major’s head so effortlessly and naturally that he never noticed it until it lightly touched his neck.  Andy’s hand involuntarily brushed a spider or something off his neck but the noose would only later be removed by the coroner’s assistant wielding in his other hand a miniature chain saw.  
     Before the noose tightened, Silvitch said so very lightly that the Major thought he imagined it, “Right on both counts, Andy:  Happy and damned.  Bye bye you son of a bitch.  See you in hell.”  Andy could no longer breathe, his hands clawed uselessly for the hidden noose already cut well beneath his skin, he struggled less and less and less; he died; his face purple and swollen, blood seeping from the garrote.  Spider Silvitch spat in his pretty purple face, kicked his ugly haircut and ear studded with a ridiculous one carat diamond and wished he had had more time playing with Andy before he actually died. He had cheated him once again.  He left as quietly as he had entered and by the same way.  No one would miss Major Tom Anderson, least of all, his wife.
     One hour later and before Andy was discovered by the Captain, two fingers lay across his neck looking in vain for a pulse; he was somewhat relieved he did not find one.  He fingered the gavotte and came very close to guessing its strength—good for a huge steelhead.  Burkhart frowned and carefully looked around him, especially the desk and a pad of note paper and an open highly classified NSA file.  A few pages had been ripped, shredded and wrinkled into balls and thrown on the floor.  He shook his head.  Andy was always too damned careless with files.  He quickly left the same way Silvitch had sixty minutes ago.
      Burkhart walked very carefully and quietly from the littered and graffitied hallway into the equally equipped bedroom of the ancient crackhouse.  There was a bedbug-infested mattress on the floor with a thin blanket half-off.  There were a half dozen sterno cans—one of which bringing about alcohol poisoning to the previous occupant--scattered on the floor and a half-eaten woman’s corpse on the floor.  Two index fingers had been cut off from red-fingered hands.  Her face was gone but Burkhart assumed she was very attractive some twelve to sixteen hours ago.  Simple and stylish jewelry.  Nice accessories to her pretty, simple and shredded dress: a lovely scarf and a leather belt.  The horn rims were plane glass as he glanced at them: the studious look; probably carried a book she read or couldn’t.  She had a lovely body despite her breasts having been removed and she would not have waited too long for eager customers.  Alas, her last customer was the most hungry and eager.  One page from the NSA file lay on the mattress with entries concerning the long dead Smythe.  Burkhart threw up in a corner only adding to the room’s exotic cachet.  He lit a match and started a fire in the rubbish choked living room and kicked open the door to the front walk.  The fire had spread to the upper story by the time he reached the end of the block.  He got into his 300SL gull wing and drove carefully to a slighter nicer neighborhood.  He waved to his neighbor carrying a huge lunch bucket on his way to the hospital.  “You gonna feed the ER nurses tonight Jim or damn, is that just a week’s worth of food?”
     “Hey, if you did some god-damned work, you know what it would be like to get hungry.  Why don’t you mow your grass; getting’ a little long.”
     “First thing in the morning as soon as you get off night shift.”  They both laughed.
     He kissed Carol and put his arms around her.  “Andy is dead,” he whispered.
     “Handy ashhole Andy?  Your hero?  Did you kill him?”
     “Thought about it.  Thought about it as the last thing I would do before I left.  No, Slick Slimy Silver Spider Silvitch, the Slob.  Anyone but him and I’d celebrate.  Now if I do kill Slick, I’m afraid he might think it was revenge for Andy.  How can there so many jerks in this world.  Shouldn’t it even out:  50:50 or such?”
     “Harvard Business School ‘80:20 rule’.  80% of your profits, 80% of your convictions, 80% of your ash holes.  You can thank a long ago alumna.”
     “You sure it wasn’t an alumnus?”
     “When was the last time any man had an original thought?”
     “I did, I’m thinking of getting out of Dodge why our hearts are still pumping.  While I’m still sane—such as it is.”
     “Negative, my love.  I’ve been thinking that since Parthos.”
     “That’s not fair, you know I can’t remember before that.”
     “Before that, there wasn’t an us.  You’d naturally win by default.  Typical male-win; competing against nary a woman.”
     “You’re right.  The only good idea I ever had was loving you.”
     “Sorry, I beat you on that too—while you were still unconscious.”
     “Damn.  You win.  You get first prize--to sleep with me tonight: lucky girl!
     “It’s the only thing I ever wanted.  Thank you, Sweetheart.  Be nicer by a palm tree in the sand.”
     ‘Beachboys’ thought Burkhart, very typical Carol invocation.’  “Only one more: and then it’s over: over forever.  We’ll move to that little cay we bought last year in the Bahamas.  I ain’t ever coming back here again or the District--especially the District.  I’m going to sleep with you all day long with the surf coming in and we’re going to make love all night long with the coconuts dropping.  Way too long in coming.  I love you, Carol.  Thanks for putting up with it.  Couldn’t have done it without you, especially Parthos and that bad week after you found me.  I don’t know anyone else who would have even considered it.  Maybe someday I’ll remember what life was like before you saved me from hell.”
Suzy eye’s opened wide on their own accord.  Three thirty four in the morning.  She yawned and stretched and then jumped out of bed hastily making her bed.  Thanks to her mother, she had never missed that in over twenty years.  Mrs. Wong had left the hall light on in case she or Leela had needed to visit the john in the night.  ‘I wonder if she was afraid we’d sue?’ she ungraciously but accurately thought.
     She walked through the living room.  The fireplace was still aroar while the air conditioner provided a slight background hum.  ‘One way to spend the billions.’  She looked at its flames disappearing up the chimney.  ‘When I was little,’ she chuckled, ‘I was so afraid Santa would be seriously hurt.  Who would have given me my GI Barbie cum cambat-bra and kbar if Santa had third degree burns all over his butt and soles?’  She walked into the kitchen, opened the huge double doored walk-in reefer and grabbed a carton of bugallo milk and poured herself three quarters of a glass and filled it up with some of Innez’s wonderful cognac in it.  She could hardly wait to tell Jill about the wonderful 2802—I didn’t know brandies had vintages--bottle of Le Boef—liquid fiery amber that got smoother every millimeter of the say down. She walked into the game room where Leo had placed the rented hospital bed and IV drips and monitors and sleeping nurse.  Fry lay face up, his eyes wide open but not seeing anything.  He would have been delighted normally to stay in this room for a week. It must have near a thousand video arcade games from the 1960’s to the year 2999 when Inez yelled at him that enough was enough.  There were also old pin ball machines and pool, billiards, and snooker tables as well as a four lane bowling alley with the laser guided balls via a joy stick and air hoses and an active computer-generated defense.  Fry found it actually to be harder than the old-time-throw-the-ball-in-the-lane-and-pray-it-doesn’t-go-into-a-gutter.  Suzy had no idea he would have happily died in this room.  Only Leela knew that and had looked at old video arcade games on auction for several years hoping to find one she could afford to give Fry.  She stared as hard as she could into the depths of Fry’s open-unseeing eyes.  She whispered ‘Do you love me Sweetheart?  Are you going to marry me?  Are you going to let me be the mother of Leela’s baby?’  She brushed back tears.  
     Leela, next to the over-weight nurse, was in an uncomfortable straight back chair with her head in his lap, her beautiful purple hair let down and spread over Fry’s chest, down his side and past his groin.  Her left arm went over him and she was holding his hand with her right.  She wondered, ‘Hell this is the friggin’ mother.  Why the fudge shouldn’t she be the wife?  No wonder she was angry at Fry, at Me.  Hell, I would have killed her!  She thought of her camera on her phone and wished she could have a picture of this to treasure always; she would, it would be in her head and heart. Leela softly snored, sputtered and softly called to Fry.  She coughed and then Suzy swore she heard her name invoked.  She pulled up another chair, pulled the mass of a nurse out the way and sat down in it with her feet up propped up by Fry’s left side and she watched her two sleeping friends and tried to think of extra special healing and loving thoughts.  She thought about the tiny tiny baby sleeping in Leela’s without a care in the world.  ‘Poor thing was going to have to come out sometime.  Poor thing.’
     Suzy had not meant to sleep.  She assumed she would be unable to sleep.  Her last thoughts were before drifting off were, ‘I love you, Fry.’  ‘I love you, sweet little Baby, maybe your mommy will let me love you as much--well almost as much--as she does, maybe we should all live together, would you like two mommies, sweet little Babu?.’
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