Kate wasn’t happy she had to go to so much trouble to round us up, but still she took Karl off for a practice called “co-habitation” and I hadn’t seen him since last night. They left me tied up in the barn with the Crazy Persons, who were tending to their wounds from the battle. When I woke up in the morning, they were already pounding Grandslam breakfasts. Karl and Kate walked into the room and he came over to see me in the corner.
“Hi Pat.”
“Hi Karl.”
We exchanged some small talk, me still tied to a chair, him not seeming to care.
“So, things are getting a little weird with Kate.”
“Really, Karl? You think so?”
He shuffled his feet. “Yeah, I had to clean up her habitat last night. Then I had to take out the garbage this morning. Then I had to walk Abito.”
Kate started looking around.
“Karl? Karl? Where are you Karl?”
Karl raised his hand.
“I’m over here, Kate. Just talking to Pat.”
“You never want to hang out with me, Karl.”
“I’m sorry, Kate. I’ll be right over.”
He looked at me. “See you later, Pat.”
I spent most of the day tied to the chair, watching people eat Denny’s. In the afternoon, Kate came over, with Karl trailing behind.
“Well, well, well. I just got a call from our benefactor. He’d like a few words with you.”
I asked who that might be, in the nicest way possible, although I may have used a couple of obscenities.
Kate turned to Karl.
“Karl, your friend shouldn’t talk to me like that. Apologize.”
“I’m sorry, Kate,” Karl said sheepishly.
Kate turned back to me and confirmed my joke before about Denny’s underwriting the movement was, in fact, entirely correct. The CEO of the company would touch down in his helicopter in minutes.
This took me off guard. The head of Denny’s was no stranger to the news and I saw his picture everywhere. He had turned the company into a Fortune 500 powerhouse and sent stock prices soaring. Worth billions, he was on the short list of richest people in the country. That he was involved with these nutjobs, well, I would have to see it to believe it.
As Kate promised, I could soon hear the roar of a helicopter. After several minutes the engines died down and into the barn strode one of the most powerful men in America: R. Chadwick Krementz.
“Is this the son of Flair?” he asked Kate, pointing at me. He cut straight through the chit chat. Kate told him I was and he strode over to me.
“Your old man has given me a lot of trouble, boy. Every time my people try to bribe him, he puts us in something called the Figure Four. It hurts.”
I chuckled. Good old dad. Krementz stared at me.
“Laugh now, boy. I’ll have the last laugh. With you, I will get my legislation through the Senate and soon all marriage will be illegal.”
“What?”
Krementz bent down to look me in the eyes.
“My profits will go through the roof. All my research shows married people don’t eat at Denny’s."
“So if no one’s married…” I reasoned.
“Exactly.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Are you on drugs?”
“I’ve never touched a drug in my life, boy. What do I look like? Some Hopi Indian?”
At that moment I heard a loud scream and into the room ran Jason, who I thought had died a grisly death, but was very much alive, yelling loudly and sloshing gasoline on everything in sight. A couple LARPers had survived and started to engage the remaining DLF crazies. Jason made a beeline to me and hit Krementz over the head with the gas can, then with his teeth he gnawed my bonds loose.
“It looks like I’m going to win after all,” Jason said. Up close I could see the end of a wooden sword was broken off in his stomach. “This module wasn’t that hard.”
“Jesus, are you OK?”
“Never mind about me, get the man-bride out of here, I still have one more spell I need to cast,” he told me.
I didn’t argue and was able to grab Karl. He turned around like he wanted to stay with Kate, but when he saw her stomping on the head of a LARPer, he thought better of it. As we ran out of the barn, we heard Jason yell one more time.
“Wall of Flame, Level 10!” and he dropped a match.
The barn exploded in flames and Karl and I stood outside for a while watching it burn to the ground. Finally, there was nothing left but a smoldering pile of wood.
Karl kept his eyes on the fire when he finally spoke.
“Want to go get some Denny’s?” he asked.
Everything was as it should be.
THE END
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
March 12, 2008
We ran hard.
Karl slowed us down because he kept tripping over his wedding train, but I pulled him along. We could hear the robot dog behind us, but there was a large group of people in a field ahead of us. If we could get lost in the crowd, we’d be safe. At least, that’s what we told ourselves.
After the ritual near-execution, they locked us in one of their sheds and threw some more Denny’s at us. The door was unlocked, but they posted Crazy Person 3 outside as a guard. I told Karl to get some sleep because we were going to get out of there. He looked scared and wanted to stay in case Kate wanted to deprogram him again, this time without a condom. I ignored him and when it was still dark I shook him awake. I cracked the door open a bit and saw the guard.
“Hey, do you hear something?” I said to him.
He turned around. “Shut that door and be quiet.”
“No, I’m serious, I hear something. It sounds like someone’s watching a Julie Roberts movie…one that involves a wedding.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I think it’s coming from over there,” I waved my hand in a general direction. “I’d hurry. It might be Runaway Bride and we all know how that ends.”
The guard took off and we started in the opposite direction. At that point I realized being still dressed as bride and groom might slow us down. At least they didn’t put heels on Karl.
So after hours of fleeing we heard Abito behind us. There weren’t any signs of civilization around the farm, so it was fortunate to find a group of people standing in the middle of a field. As we got closer, we saw they were dressed strangely, in capes and cardboard armor, holding large wooden swords and axes. We tried to blend in, but it didn’t work.
“Uh, I don’t think there’s a wedding anytime during the Battle of Gledora,” a dude wearing a helmet told us. He had a long pony tail and was pretty ripped. He looked around and everyone else laughed. He was clearly the leader.
“Who’s going to get married? Prince Gyxag? Baronness Haunt? C’mon!” he laughed.
Everyone laughed again with him.
“Listen, we’re sorry to crash your costume party, but…” I got that far before he became upset. His face turned red and, curiously, he began rubbing his chest.
“Costume party? Costume party? We’re LARPing. What are you, an idiot?”
One of his friends touched his shoulder. “You’re out of character, Jason.”
The one called Jason turned around and punched his friend in the face, silencing anymore protests.
Karl was confused. “What’s LARPing?”
The leader became even angrier and the rubbing became even faster and more furious. “Live action role playing, jerkface.”
Karl nodded his head, “Oh, more acronyms.”
“Listen, we’re LARPing, too, but it’s kind of intense,” I said, an idea taking shape in my head. “I don’t know if you guys could handle it.”
A silence settled over the group. Apparently I had thrown down the LARPing gauntlet.
“We can handle anything. What’s the module?” Jason asked, and then huffed when we looked confused. “The story?”
“Uh, it’s an oldie where we come from. See, it involves the ancient land of…”
I nudged Karl.
“Chlamydia?” he offered.
“Yeah, that’s it,” I agreed. “Specifically the Great Battle of Syphilis between the Brave and Virtuous Virgin Warriors and the evil armies of the Redheaded She-Devil Vampire Whore Queen.”
Jason scoffed. “That doesn’t seem too tough.”
“Yeah, but you have a sub-module,” I said authoritatively. I was getting into it. “You have to protect the man and man-bride from any foes, particularly the robot dog.”
Jason conferred with his compatriots. They accepted, and not a moment too soon. Jason looked over to the edge of the woods and said he saw Abito.
“You can see that far?” I asked him, squinting.
“I have really good eyesight,” Jason said.
The LARPers swarmed around me and Karl and I lost sight of the dog. I didn’t even see when Abito hit the first defenders but I heard the screams. I won’t go into too much detail, but the battle between the LARPers and the DLF lasted for several hours and, suffice to say, I have never seen so much death in my life.
Yet, ultimately, we were recaptured.
Rats.
Karl slowed us down because he kept tripping over his wedding train, but I pulled him along. We could hear the robot dog behind us, but there was a large group of people in a field ahead of us. If we could get lost in the crowd, we’d be safe. At least, that’s what we told ourselves.
After the ritual near-execution, they locked us in one of their sheds and threw some more Denny’s at us. The door was unlocked, but they posted Crazy Person 3 outside as a guard. I told Karl to get some sleep because we were going to get out of there. He looked scared and wanted to stay in case Kate wanted to deprogram him again, this time without a condom. I ignored him and when it was still dark I shook him awake. I cracked the door open a bit and saw the guard.
“Hey, do you hear something?” I said to him.
He turned around. “Shut that door and be quiet.”
“No, I’m serious, I hear something. It sounds like someone’s watching a Julie Roberts movie…one that involves a wedding.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I think it’s coming from over there,” I waved my hand in a general direction. “I’d hurry. It might be Runaway Bride and we all know how that ends.”
The guard took off and we started in the opposite direction. At that point I realized being still dressed as bride and groom might slow us down. At least they didn’t put heels on Karl.
So after hours of fleeing we heard Abito behind us. There weren’t any signs of civilization around the farm, so it was fortunate to find a group of people standing in the middle of a field. As we got closer, we saw they were dressed strangely, in capes and cardboard armor, holding large wooden swords and axes. We tried to blend in, but it didn’t work.
“Uh, I don’t think there’s a wedding anytime during the Battle of Gledora,” a dude wearing a helmet told us. He had a long pony tail and was pretty ripped. He looked around and everyone else laughed. He was clearly the leader.
“Who’s going to get married? Prince Gyxag? Baronness Haunt? C’mon!” he laughed.
Everyone laughed again with him.
“Listen, we’re sorry to crash your costume party, but…” I got that far before he became upset. His face turned red and, curiously, he began rubbing his chest.
“Costume party? Costume party? We’re LARPing. What are you, an idiot?”
One of his friends touched his shoulder. “You’re out of character, Jason.”
The one called Jason turned around and punched his friend in the face, silencing anymore protests.
Karl was confused. “What’s LARPing?”
The leader became even angrier and the rubbing became even faster and more furious. “Live action role playing, jerkface.”
Karl nodded his head, “Oh, more acronyms.”
“Listen, we’re LARPing, too, but it’s kind of intense,” I said, an idea taking shape in my head. “I don’t know if you guys could handle it.”
A silence settled over the group. Apparently I had thrown down the LARPing gauntlet.
“We can handle anything. What’s the module?” Jason asked, and then huffed when we looked confused. “The story?”
“Uh, it’s an oldie where we come from. See, it involves the ancient land of…”
I nudged Karl.
“Chlamydia?” he offered.
“Yeah, that’s it,” I agreed. “Specifically the Great Battle of Syphilis between the Brave and Virtuous Virgin Warriors and the evil armies of the Redheaded She-Devil Vampire Whore Queen.”
Jason scoffed. “That doesn’t seem too tough.”
“Yeah, but you have a sub-module,” I said authoritatively. I was getting into it. “You have to protect the man and man-bride from any foes, particularly the robot dog.”
Jason conferred with his compatriots. They accepted, and not a moment too soon. Jason looked over to the edge of the woods and said he saw Abito.
“You can see that far?” I asked him, squinting.
“I have really good eyesight,” Jason said.
The LARPers swarmed around me and Karl and I lost sight of the dog. I didn’t even see when Abito hit the first defenders but I heard the screams. I won’t go into too much detail, but the battle between the LARPers and the DLF lasted for several hours and, suffice to say, I have never seen so much death in my life.
Yet, ultimately, we were recaptured.
Rats.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
March 11, 2008
I had been at the DLF compound for about 20 minutes before I was thinking I should have taken my chances with the knife welding maniac.
Karl was off being “deprogrammed” of married life and they left me to wander around their farm and interact with other members, sort of like a really boring choose your own adventure novel. And when I decided I had enough and tried to hide in a barn, they came and found me to talk about their silly beliefs. The nebulous and vague cause attracted all types of agendas; people who professed to truly not believe in the practice of marriage, people who couldn’t get married and were bitter other people were happy and, of course, September 12 conspiracists.
I hoped I wouldn’t have to stay too much longer. If I had any idea where I was, I might have started walking, but I felt bad about leaving Karl here at the farm. Come to think of it, farm might be a misnomer, because in the course of running and hiding throughout the day, I didn’t see anything growing. They derived all their sustenance from Denny’s to-go orders.
Around dinner time, Karl finally turned up. He was very excited.
“I had sex with the redhead!”
“What?”
Karl told me as part of the deprogramming he mentioned he might return to his marriage and she insisted on doing it to nullify the sacrament or whatever.
“Uh, I guess way to go, bro.” We had an awkward high five.
“Yeah, and she’s a lesbian!” Karl seemed really happy about this fact.
“No!”
“Seriously, she’s in love with some girl, but there was something about time travel.”
I figured he’d misheard, but when we were sitting around a picnic table eating Denny’s a little later, I asked her and sure enough, there was time travel involved.
We were sitting with Kate and let’s call them Crazy Persons 1 through 3 when her eyes got a distant far away look.
“Just after I graduated law school, our Shaman Schriss Babler showed me a portal that let me journey into the past,” Kate said wistfully. “There in the Middle Ages I eyed a fair maiden who I fell in love with, a fair maiden named Kaila. Alas, our love was not meant to be, for fear the whole space time continuum would crumble like soda bread.”
“Long distance relationships are tough, anyway,” I offered.
She snapped out of her reverie and glared at me. “Shut up and eat your Denny’s.”
“Funny you should mention that, I once went to a Denny’s,” Karl said. We all turned to look at him and after several moments of watching Buffalo Chicken Sandwich sauce drip down his chin, we realized that was the end of the story.
Kate looked at me again. “Tell your retarded friend I’m going to punch him in the stomach.”
We ate in silence for several more minutes when I decided to ask another question.
“What’s the deal with the Denny’s? Are they underwriting you guys?”
Crazy Person 1 or 2, I can’t be sure, threw his meal up in the air and screamed “He knows too much!”
Several hands grabbed me and held me on the picnic table. Kate looked down at me.
“You just had to be too smart for your own good, didn’t you? Now we’ll have to kill you.”
Karl started crying.
“And kill him too, he’s probably going to go back to his wife anyway,” she said.
I tried to get a word in, “Listen, I think we’re being a little hasty here and I think you’ve misread the state of my friend’s marriage.”
They didn’t listen and dragged us both to a field. They didn’t want to just kill us the easy way, so they dressed us up as bride and groom and were going to light us on fire like a wedding cake candle. Karl, obviously, was the bride. A crying bride, at that.
“Pat! I don’t want to die! Tell them who your dad is!”
I elbowed him hard in the side. Kate jumped close to Karl's face.
“Who’s his father?”
Karl sniffled. “Senator Flair, Senator Ric Flair.”
This made Kate very happy. She decided I could stay as a political prisoner. Karl, however, was still set to die.
“Now listen, I’ll only be your political prisoner if Karl lives.”
Kate thought about this and agreed. Who said you can’t negotiate with terrorists?
“But you two have to promise not to run away.”
I looked at her and held my hand up.
“I promise we won’t run.”
Karl was off being “deprogrammed” of married life and they left me to wander around their farm and interact with other members, sort of like a really boring choose your own adventure novel. And when I decided I had enough and tried to hide in a barn, they came and found me to talk about their silly beliefs. The nebulous and vague cause attracted all types of agendas; people who professed to truly not believe in the practice of marriage, people who couldn’t get married and were bitter other people were happy and, of course, September 12 conspiracists.
I hoped I wouldn’t have to stay too much longer. If I had any idea where I was, I might have started walking, but I felt bad about leaving Karl here at the farm. Come to think of it, farm might be a misnomer, because in the course of running and hiding throughout the day, I didn’t see anything growing. They derived all their sustenance from Denny’s to-go orders.
Around dinner time, Karl finally turned up. He was very excited.
“I had sex with the redhead!”
“What?”
Karl told me as part of the deprogramming he mentioned he might return to his marriage and she insisted on doing it to nullify the sacrament or whatever.
“Uh, I guess way to go, bro.” We had an awkward high five.
“Yeah, and she’s a lesbian!” Karl seemed really happy about this fact.
“No!”
“Seriously, she’s in love with some girl, but there was something about time travel.”
I figured he’d misheard, but when we were sitting around a picnic table eating Denny’s a little later, I asked her and sure enough, there was time travel involved.
We were sitting with Kate and let’s call them Crazy Persons 1 through 3 when her eyes got a distant far away look.
“Just after I graduated law school, our Shaman Schriss Babler showed me a portal that let me journey into the past,” Kate said wistfully. “There in the Middle Ages I eyed a fair maiden who I fell in love with, a fair maiden named Kaila. Alas, our love was not meant to be, for fear the whole space time continuum would crumble like soda bread.”
“Long distance relationships are tough, anyway,” I offered.
She snapped out of her reverie and glared at me. “Shut up and eat your Denny’s.”
“Funny you should mention that, I once went to a Denny’s,” Karl said. We all turned to look at him and after several moments of watching Buffalo Chicken Sandwich sauce drip down his chin, we realized that was the end of the story.
Kate looked at me again. “Tell your retarded friend I’m going to punch him in the stomach.”
We ate in silence for several more minutes when I decided to ask another question.
“What’s the deal with the Denny’s? Are they underwriting you guys?”
Crazy Person 1 or 2, I can’t be sure, threw his meal up in the air and screamed “He knows too much!”
Several hands grabbed me and held me on the picnic table. Kate looked down at me.
“You just had to be too smart for your own good, didn’t you? Now we’ll have to kill you.”
Karl started crying.
“And kill him too, he’s probably going to go back to his wife anyway,” she said.
I tried to get a word in, “Listen, I think we’re being a little hasty here and I think you’ve misread the state of my friend’s marriage.”
They didn’t listen and dragged us both to a field. They didn’t want to just kill us the easy way, so they dressed us up as bride and groom and were going to light us on fire like a wedding cake candle. Karl, obviously, was the bride. A crying bride, at that.
“Pat! I don’t want to die! Tell them who your dad is!”
I elbowed him hard in the side. Kate jumped close to Karl's face.
“Who’s his father?”
Karl sniffled. “Senator Flair, Senator Ric Flair.”
This made Kate very happy. She decided I could stay as a political prisoner. Karl, however, was still set to die.
“Now listen, I’ll only be your political prisoner if Karl lives.”
Kate thought about this and agreed. Who said you can’t negotiate with terrorists?
“But you two have to promise not to run away.”
I looked at her and held my hand up.
“I promise we won’t run.”
Monday, March 10, 2008
March 10, 2008
At Karl’s suggestion, I had locked the guest room door and got a pretty decent night’s sleep, only marred by the sounds of violent lovemaking coming from upstairs. It seemed like Karl was on the receiving end of all the masochism and I faded off to sleep listening to the sounds of my friend’s screams.
We had big plans for the day. It was Karl's birthday and he was going to take me sightseeing around the city. Unfortunately, that took about 20 minutes and then we got stuck in traffic for 6 hours. Karl didn’t seem to mind because Coby was at home celebrating the Sabbath, which apparently falls on Mondays now.
We got back in time for dinner and navigated our way to the dining room. The trick was finding a path through all the urns that littered the floor, placed in awkward positions like blocking the bathroom door or at the bottom of the stairs or in front of the dishwasher. I had asked about them the first day and found they held the remains of her ancestors.
“Aren’t Jewish people buried?” I said.
“I’m a reformed Jew, you dick.” She flashed a knife.
I had charted a course through the urns the day before, but they were moved around during the Sabbath so it took us several minutes to find a way to the table, with Karl offering suggested routes.
We ate Karl's birthday dinner (matzoh ball soup) in silence for several minutes before I had to ask a question. Karl had cautioned against too much of that, but I didn’t see anyway around it.
“Is he part of your religion, too?” I said pointing to the tall bald man that had been hitting a small gong in the corner throughout the meal. “Is he from TNG?”
He was. Coby explained it was a compromise she offered Karl that was compatible with her beliefs.
“Too bad it’s from a Lwaxana Troi episode. Those are the worst,” I said with a chuckle.
I was taken off guard when Coby heaved herself across the table and stabbed a butter knife between my thumb and first finger.
“Lwaxana Troi episodes are the best,” she hissed, looking into my eyes.
Karl and his wife retired to the bedroom for more brutal intercourse and I fumbled around with the Tivo trying to find Cops. I gave up after punching some buttons and decided it was probably bed time. Sometime later I heard a scratching on the door. It was my friend.
“Hi Pat.”
“Hi Karl.”
He came in and told me he had to sleep in the kitchen tonight. He had a blanket so it wasn’t that bad, he explained. We sat on the bed and talked about baseball. I heard a noise and asked him if he could always hear the trucks shifting gears on the highway, but he said it was just Coby moving around. He said she never slept and watched Barbra Streisand movies for several hours at night.
Sure enough, I could hear the TV turn on. Then a scream.
“What happened to Yentl? Who recorded Cops?”
Uh oh. Karl grabbed me by the shirt, “What have you done?” he said, fear in his eyes. “We’re doomed now! Doomed!”
The door to the bedroom started shaking. Then the blade of a knife came through the wood. Karl and I retreated to the top of the bed, shrieking, as the door would not hold too much longer.
Moments later it broke and Karl’s wife stood there.
“You’ve done it now, Karl,” she growled.
“It was him, take him!” he said, pushing me.
As she approached, the window in the bedroom shattered and through it bounded a robot dog, followed by a short redhead.
“You’re domestic bliss is over, breeder!” the redhead yelled and stuck Coby with a caddleprod. The redhead turned to us.
“You’ve been targeted by the DLF, do not resist,” she told us.
“The DLF?” we asked in unison.
“The Domestic Liberation Front,” she replied, annoyed we had to ask.
I heard about these nutjobs on the news. They firebombed a bridal store in Akron last week.
“Oh thank God,” Karl said with tears. “I’m so happy. Where should I go?”
This clearly bothered the redhead. I suppose she was hoping he would put up a fight. Still, she told him to go wait in the van. They were about to leave when I reached for her arm.
“You can’t leave me here! Please! Just give me a ride somewhere,” I said with one eye on the shape of Karl’s wife on the floor.
She grudgingly consented and I met Karl in the van, where the robot dog was biting his toes. I asked what her name was.
“My DLF call sign is Liberator 45,” she said proudly. She seemed irritated once again when we didn’t recognize it.
“Oh whatever, just call me Kate. And the dog’s Abito.”
We had big plans for the day. It was Karl's birthday and he was going to take me sightseeing around the city. Unfortunately, that took about 20 minutes and then we got stuck in traffic for 6 hours. Karl didn’t seem to mind because Coby was at home celebrating the Sabbath, which apparently falls on Mondays now.
We got back in time for dinner and navigated our way to the dining room. The trick was finding a path through all the urns that littered the floor, placed in awkward positions like blocking the bathroom door or at the bottom of the stairs or in front of the dishwasher. I had asked about them the first day and found they held the remains of her ancestors.
“Aren’t Jewish people buried?” I said.
“I’m a reformed Jew, you dick.” She flashed a knife.
I had charted a course through the urns the day before, but they were moved around during the Sabbath so it took us several minutes to find a way to the table, with Karl offering suggested routes.
We ate Karl's birthday dinner (matzoh ball soup) in silence for several minutes before I had to ask a question. Karl had cautioned against too much of that, but I didn’t see anyway around it.
“Is he part of your religion, too?” I said pointing to the tall bald man that had been hitting a small gong in the corner throughout the meal. “Is he from TNG?”
He was. Coby explained it was a compromise she offered Karl that was compatible with her beliefs.
“Too bad it’s from a Lwaxana Troi episode. Those are the worst,” I said with a chuckle.
I was taken off guard when Coby heaved herself across the table and stabbed a butter knife between my thumb and first finger.
“Lwaxana Troi episodes are the best,” she hissed, looking into my eyes.
Karl and his wife retired to the bedroom for more brutal intercourse and I fumbled around with the Tivo trying to find Cops. I gave up after punching some buttons and decided it was probably bed time. Sometime later I heard a scratching on the door. It was my friend.
“Hi Pat.”
“Hi Karl.”
He came in and told me he had to sleep in the kitchen tonight. He had a blanket so it wasn’t that bad, he explained. We sat on the bed and talked about baseball. I heard a noise and asked him if he could always hear the trucks shifting gears on the highway, but he said it was just Coby moving around. He said she never slept and watched Barbra Streisand movies for several hours at night.
Sure enough, I could hear the TV turn on. Then a scream.
“What happened to Yentl? Who recorded Cops?”
Uh oh. Karl grabbed me by the shirt, “What have you done?” he said, fear in his eyes. “We’re doomed now! Doomed!”
The door to the bedroom started shaking. Then the blade of a knife came through the wood. Karl and I retreated to the top of the bed, shrieking, as the door would not hold too much longer.
Moments later it broke and Karl’s wife stood there.
“You’ve done it now, Karl,” she growled.
“It was him, take him!” he said, pushing me.
As she approached, the window in the bedroom shattered and through it bounded a robot dog, followed by a short redhead.
“You’re domestic bliss is over, breeder!” the redhead yelled and stuck Coby with a caddleprod. The redhead turned to us.
“You’ve been targeted by the DLF, do not resist,” she told us.
“The DLF?” we asked in unison.
“The Domestic Liberation Front,” she replied, annoyed we had to ask.
I heard about these nutjobs on the news. They firebombed a bridal store in Akron last week.
“Oh thank God,” Karl said with tears. “I’m so happy. Where should I go?”
This clearly bothered the redhead. I suppose she was hoping he would put up a fight. Still, she told him to go wait in the van. They were about to leave when I reached for her arm.
“You can’t leave me here! Please! Just give me a ride somewhere,” I said with one eye on the shape of Karl’s wife on the floor.
She grudgingly consented and I met Karl in the van, where the robot dog was biting his toes. I asked what her name was.
“My DLF call sign is Liberator 45,” she said proudly. She seemed irritated once again when we didn’t recognize it.
“Oh whatever, just call me Kate. And the dog’s Abito.”
Sunday, March 9, 2008
March 9, 2008
“Hi, Pat! Over here!”
Karl was standing on the other side of the security check point, waving his hands and jumping up and down. At his feet, I could see he had a sign with my name on it, kind of like the ones limo drivers hold up, except this one was scrawled in crayon. And there were several misspellings.
It probably was a little bit of overkill, seeing as there were only a handful of people snaking their way to the baggage claim, and you usually only do that if you don’t know what whoever you’re meeting looks like, but it was sweet. I hadn’t seen my old college chum in years and this was the first time making my way out to Texas to visit him and his wife.
Karl ran up and hugged me, pulling me close. He held me for several moments, whispering “I’m so glad you’re here,” over and over, his mustache tickling my ear. After I was able to disengaged him from my person, we grabbed my bag and make our way to the car. As we drove to his house we caught up on our Gonzaga days.
“How’s Sophia?” Karl asked, mindful of a car passing him on the left. He still was a good driver.
“She’s good,” I said.
Sophia Bush. My girlfriend.
“Is your ex still bothering you, uh, Miley?”
Miley Cyrus. My ex-girlfriend.
“I got a restraining order. She was being kind of childish,” I said absentmindedly, distracted by the cityscape of Houston. “How’s married life?”
Karl looked like he really wanted to say something, but he stopped. He took a deep breath and collected himself.
“Everything is wonderful. I am very happy. Every day is a gift from Yahweh.”
He fished a notepad and pen from the backseat. He wrote a message as he continued to work through the traffic and slid the pad over to me.
‘She has the car bugged’
Ah, wonderful. This seemed normal. With the conversation gone, we drove a few more minutes and stopped at a modest sized home in a shady suburb. It was a pretty house, Karl had done well for himself. There were kids playing in the street and neighbors waving from porches.
“They seem nice,” I commented about an elderly couple who were enthusiastically swinging their frail arms in a greeting.
“They live in fear,” he said as we walked up the front steps. He put his key in the lock and turned to me before opening the door.
“Are you afraid of knives?”
“I guess as much as the next guy.”
“I’m really afraid of knives.”
With a sigh, he pushed the door open and we walked inside. A whizzing noise and a loud thunk made me look to my right. Buried into the door frame was a quivering, seven inch knife.
“Holy Christ!” I jumped back.
“How dare you speak that name in this house,” thundered a female voice, and the person I assumed was the knife thrower.
“Pat, I want you to meet my wife, Coby,” my friend said. I think the knife was meant for him, but he seemed OK with it. His wife waddled over to shake my hand, her inflated belly leading the way. I shared pleasantries and asked how she was.
“Oh, I got Karl’s seed in my uterus, so everything’s hunky dory,” a statement I couldn't place as sarcastic or sincere.
She pulled the knife out of the door and stuck it in a belt with several others.
“Make yourself at home, but remember, if you cross me, I’ll cut you.”
The situation was turning out to be less than optimal.
Karl was standing on the other side of the security check point, waving his hands and jumping up and down. At his feet, I could see he had a sign with my name on it, kind of like the ones limo drivers hold up, except this one was scrawled in crayon. And there were several misspellings.
It probably was a little bit of overkill, seeing as there were only a handful of people snaking their way to the baggage claim, and you usually only do that if you don’t know what whoever you’re meeting looks like, but it was sweet. I hadn’t seen my old college chum in years and this was the first time making my way out to Texas to visit him and his wife.
Karl ran up and hugged me, pulling me close. He held me for several moments, whispering “I’m so glad you’re here,” over and over, his mustache tickling my ear. After I was able to disengaged him from my person, we grabbed my bag and make our way to the car. As we drove to his house we caught up on our Gonzaga days.
“How’s Sophia?” Karl asked, mindful of a car passing him on the left. He still was a good driver.
“She’s good,” I said.
Sophia Bush. My girlfriend.
“Is your ex still bothering you, uh, Miley?”
Miley Cyrus. My ex-girlfriend.
“I got a restraining order. She was being kind of childish,” I said absentmindedly, distracted by the cityscape of Houston. “How’s married life?”
Karl looked like he really wanted to say something, but he stopped. He took a deep breath and collected himself.
“Everything is wonderful. I am very happy. Every day is a gift from Yahweh.”
He fished a notepad and pen from the backseat. He wrote a message as he continued to work through the traffic and slid the pad over to me.
‘She has the car bugged’
Ah, wonderful. This seemed normal. With the conversation gone, we drove a few more minutes and stopped at a modest sized home in a shady suburb. It was a pretty house, Karl had done well for himself. There were kids playing in the street and neighbors waving from porches.
“They seem nice,” I commented about an elderly couple who were enthusiastically swinging their frail arms in a greeting.
“They live in fear,” he said as we walked up the front steps. He put his key in the lock and turned to me before opening the door.
“Are you afraid of knives?”
“I guess as much as the next guy.”
“I’m really afraid of knives.”
With a sigh, he pushed the door open and we walked inside. A whizzing noise and a loud thunk made me look to my right. Buried into the door frame was a quivering, seven inch knife.
“Holy Christ!” I jumped back.
“How dare you speak that name in this house,” thundered a female voice, and the person I assumed was the knife thrower.
“Pat, I want you to meet my wife, Coby,” my friend said. I think the knife was meant for him, but he seemed OK with it. His wife waddled over to shake my hand, her inflated belly leading the way. I shared pleasantries and asked how she was.
“Oh, I got Karl’s seed in my uterus, so everything’s hunky dory,” a statement I couldn't place as sarcastic or sincere.
She pulled the knife out of the door and stuck it in a belt with several others.
“Make yourself at home, but remember, if you cross me, I’ll cut you.”
The situation was turning out to be less than optimal.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Reset
Alternate history or alternative history is a subgenre of speculative fiction (or some would say science fiction) and historical fiction that is set in a world in which history has diverged from history as it is generally known. Alternate history literature asks the question, "What if history had developed differently?"
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