It was not cold at all. Three figures found themselves around a white Formica table. A strange man walked up to them, seemingly unaware of what had just happened. He asked them what they wanted, when he received no replies, he said he would be back in a few minutes. No one was the first to speak. Of the three, one was floating, deep in meditation, one was looking around intently with one finger in his ear and one was sniffing the new environs. All were puzzled, all were silent. Then, the floating one spoke,
“There is a disturbance in the Force.”
“No”, dissented the one with the finger in the ear, “It’s a computational error within the Matrix”.
The third dissented with confused grunts mostly then began muttering, “The ring…the Master’s ring….herm….herrrm…”
There was another silence, as palpable as any lack of sound can be, and then the source of the disruption that called them to this place seemed to throb again and all three of them froze, sensing it. The floating one ceased floating, the one with the finger/ear kinship broke the two apart and the sniffing one desisted sniffing. They all heard dark, bubbling laughter and this is what seemed to focus them all upon each other.
“GuiDiRico?” they all said.
Then again, slower, and singularly
“Guido?”
“Dirk?”
“Rico?”
They stared. Then they started. Then there were many hugs, quite a few slaps and an equal amount of tickles, despite the lack of Prince (they had all, on their separate paths, discovered and come to understand that even though Prince might not be playing or heard at a certain moment or at a certain location, he had at one point been played/heard at some time and at some location and therefore existed throughout all time and space from the Beginning of Everything to the End of Everything, meaning that there really was no such thing as a “lack of Prince”, so more correctly…) despite the lack of Prince not being played/heard at that particular moment and at that particular location, and once the hugs and slaps and tickles had ended, they began again with a feverish intensity only known to those with fevers well above 103 degrees (Celsius) and an intensity well above 3. Finally, the feverish intensity took some metaphorical Tylenol and they all stopped hugging and slapping and tickling…and began talking…to each other…
“Like the suit, Guido” intoned Rico.
“Thanks”, responded Guido, “I like the ceremonial robes.”
“Ah,” blushed Rico, “these old things?”
“Yes” said Guido.
“Oh” unblushed Rico. “Thank you.”
“And Dirk…” said Guido, turning to Dirk “…like the…armor…?”
“Hey, thanks! It’s Hobbit skin.” chirped Dirk.
“Killed them yourself?” asked Rico.
“No other way.” answered Dirk, smug and proud and covered in Hobbit skin.
“With the…uh...” Guido gestured at the huge axe that was resting next to Dirk.
“No other way.” Dirk repeated with smugness and pride and I’m-wearing-Hobbit-skin-itude.
“Speaking of axes,” segued Guido, “what is that thing, Rico?”
“Well, I’m glad you asked that Guido,” infomercialed Rico, “This here is a Light Saber.”
“Sweet,” screamed Dirk, “Where’d you steal it from?”
“Oh, I didn’t steal it…it’s mine.”
“Huh?” inquired Guido.
“Yup, it was given to me by my very own-
There was a loud burst of static and then the strange man (who turned out to be a strange waiter named RJ or something) appeared.
“Ready yet, fellas?”
Guido looked at the menu and then at RJ.
“None of this is real.”
“Uh…” said the waiter, “So you don’t want anything?”
“Not exactly…there isn’t anything.”
“Ok…how about you, Robe Man?”
“Excitement…adventure…a Jedi seeks not these things.” responded Rico calmly and then sat, silently smiling at RJ. RJ pretended not to see Rico and then turned to Dirk with his eyes running up and down the huge axe at Dirk’s side.
“Stop your eyes from doing that!” cried Dirk, “And bring me the skins of all your bean crocks”
“Yes sir!" wept RJ as he scampered into the kitchen.
They turned their attention back upon each other.
“So…where the hell have you been, Dirk? And where did you get that huge axe…is it a replica-“
They all stopped for a moment at the mention of the words “axe” and “replica” in the same sentence, lost in a memory that was bulbous, meloneous and good, all at the same time.
“No, this one’s real. I got it from the leader of the Southern Orc tribe. After that whole clone thing, I was pretty shaken up. I went traveling, looking for a green, glowing door and, sure enough, I found it. I only had two choices- go through and continue the adventure or don’t and don’t. I found myself in Middle Earth. I hung out at this bar and one night this little midget was talking smack about making fun of fat people. ‘They’re people too!’ and all that crap and then he started going into detail about how he and his fat wife have intercourse! I was sick and it was either throw up my grog that I had paid good money for or shut that bugger up…so I did.”
“Which one?” Guido asked.
“Both, actually. Then some greenish looking guy ambled up to me and started grunting and, since I was drunk I had no idea what he was saying, but next thing I know I’m in the Army…the Orc Army. One thing lead to another and eventually I was given this huge axe. How about you, Rico? You were saying something about your Light Saber.”
“Not really much to say. After the clone thing I wanted to find out more about clones so I went to NASA and asked them. They put me in this machine and, boom, I’m in this temple and there’s this shriveled puppet floating in front of me. He’s looking all expectant and so I ask him about clones. He started gurgling and then taught me the Way of the Jedi. After a while I became a Jedi Master and I was given this here Light Saber. Pretty sweet, huh? Reid would be jealous as all get out.”
“Hell yes!” sang Guido.
There were 85 high fives before the conversation continued.
“How about you, Guido? Tell us about the suit…and those bitchin’ shades.” implored Dirk.
“When my clone died in my arms…I was pretty fucked up by that. I started buying drugs from Derek and then, one night he and I went to this rave and this chick walks up to me and starts whispering in my ear, something about reality and bugs and Laurence Fishburn…and then, BAM! Her head explodes.”
“What?” whated Rico.
“Yup, pow. So I’m standing there, covered in this chick’s head and these bad ass Sam Jackson looking motherfos stride up and I say, that was phat. Do you guys know about the Fatty patrol? Because we do stuff like that but with harpoons and fat people and- then, the first guy cuts me off and they offer me a job as an Agent. I was pensive to say the least, but then they gave me my gun.”
Guido reaches into his suit jacket and produces a hand cannon about a foot long.
“Holy fuck!” explicated Dirk.
“The holiest,” replies Guido, grinning, “and after I saw that, not to mention this awesome suit and killer ear piece, I was sold.”
“Sounds like fun.” says Rico.
“But how did you get here?” asks Dirk. “How did any of us get here? I was about to slaughter these Madison trolls when I was just…here.”
“Yeah, I was dueling with Darth Bev when…yeah, I was just here.”
“Same with me…I was chasing down Heneo, the Hairy One when zap, here…wait” said Guido, “Where is here?”
An instant or two after Guido asked this, RJ appeared out of the kitchen. Guido, forgetting that RJ hadn’t been there an instant or two ago to hear the question pulled his hand cannon out of his jacket, pointed it at RJ and shrieked his question again. RJ filled his pants with someone else’s fecal matter and collapsed.
“Man, that is so inevitable,” said Guido, holstering his weapon of mass destruction.
“Wait, look! said Dirk, pointing.
The unconscious and shit stained waiter was wearing a paper hat that read “Steak ‘N’ Shake”.
“No way!” roflpuked Rico, “Steak ‘N’ Shake? Why the Hoth are we here?”
Before anyone could answer or ask why he would refer to Hoth so randomly, the dark, bubbling laughter came again.
“I feel it again…the disturbance in the Force…” said Rico.
“Yeah, and I’m picking up an error in the Matrix again.” added Guido.
“I’m sensing the Ring, man.” multiplied Dirk.
They went outside and all turned in the direction of a nearby housing development.
“Whatever it is, it’s definitely coming from there…” started Guido.
“but…wait…that’s…” he turned to Dirk, he was nodding.
“That’s Heathrow Woods…that’s where I used to live. But more importantly…” he looked at the others, “That’s’ where we found the Gates of Hell. I have a bad feeling…”
“Well, they are the Gates of Hell, Dirk, I mean it’s hard to get a good feeling about them, now isn’t it?”
“Damn it, Rico, I was being clichéd, do you mind?”
“Oh sorry,” sorrowed Rico, “It’s just that I get so lonely…”
There was a pause.
“What?” asked Guido, curiously.
“What?” said Rico, “It was a clichéd, funny thing to say.”
“Half right…” mumbled Dirk.
“What was that, Orc Boy?” growled Rico.
“Uh, nothing,“ hurried Dirk, “Hey, let’s make this a ‘to be continued’ point, what do you say? I mean, we’ve been reintroduced and this is a pretty good cliffhanger. Plus, it gives time for the writer to come up with what happens next.”
“Hey, I have a pretty looses idea about what’s going to happen next,” typed the Writer, “I only ever have a loose idea in these cases, but I am pretty hungry and the Simpsons are on pretty soon. I think I’ll stop down at the Deli and get a hero. So, yeah, good idea, Dirk.”
“Aw, my pleasure.” awed Dirk.
“Good.” typed the Writer.
TOBECONTINUED
P.S. Biggest downside to Live Journal...the inability to preview journal entries, fucker.
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