Chapter 3
Treading lightly
The ship left Greata behind; and soon it was up and flying at 50 times lightspeed. The crew played music in the dancehall (to a large adoring crowd of drunks). They played a style of music known as bad; and they played it all night.
“Jen, why don’t we just get wasted?” asked Jack as he flipped a grape up to his mouth effortlessly.
“Because, Jack, I don’t speak ah da right when I is ah wasted,” Jen said jokingly as she slobbered on Jack’s shoulder.
“I won’t hold you to a higher standard than myself,” Jack replied with a smirk. “So 8 bottles of wine each, none less!” said Jack as he threw his hand in the air.
“Jack, you crazy,” Jen spoke with a purring (not all there) voice. “Hey, is that Fred dancing?”
They looked up and saw Fred was spinning-something he thought made him look cool-and flailing his arms like a top. He hit an old passenger right in the mouth with is left hand; and then apologized to him.
“No, I wouldn’t call it that,” Jack said his mind still on Jen’s sweet body. “Assault, he’ll only be in Prisoncon for life, maybe more,” Jack muttered as he hummed quietly between each sentence.
Jen saw Jim eating a lobster roll-looked like it was almost eating him-and gabbing up two blonde women in spandex suits. She wondered if Jim was a player at heart, or a keeper.
“Yeah, I love being probed with sticks, it’s my forte,” Jim continued. “What, I can’t hear you, because you’re too drunk. Are you flexible?” Jim inquired.
“Yes, I bend and stretchy all night,” Sandi Soup confessed in a sultry voice. She grabbed Jim around the neck; and pushed his head towards her crotch.
“Whoa, you’re getting a little rough with the old Jim,” Jim was reluctant to go down on her in front of everyone. “Maybe we take it a bit slower, I got needs. Ya know, when you needs lovin’, don’t go head grabbin’,” Jim said sarcastically as he ate the last of his lobster roll.
Sandi punched him in the balls; and said angrily,” Screw you LOSER, I’m not waiting all night!”
Jim grabbed his balls-his ego hurting more than the physical pain-and he took a few quick breaths, as Scott came over laughing his ass off.
“Jim, that’s quite a come on line you got there,” Scott had all he could do to look Jim in the eye at this point. “Hey beautiful blonde, punch me in the balls and I’ll drive that pussy wagon. Got any tips?” Scott asked and he gave up on trying to stop laughing. Jim rose to his feet grimacing; and trying to catch his breath. He eyed Sandi, and wanted to give her a good slap, but he would never hit a woman.
“What, what did you say?”
“Come on you heard me, Jim.”
“No, what was it about anyway?” Jim asked coyly as he toyed with Scott (using his best insincere grin). Scott shook his head; and then ran away screaming for five steps, and then stopped.
“I can’t remember, but that was way funny!” Scott snickered.
“Good one, tell me a joke from a mile away,” Jim wisecracked. “That really got me you jerk off. Man, I need better instincts, that bitch,” Jim said angrily as he looked around. “Ah, god my balls hurt,” Jim muttered and he tried to hide his embarrassment. Jen saw the whole thing-and she knew Jim needed her.
Jen strutted over to Jim; like she was the conductor in a large parade. Jim saw this and he nodded begrudgingly (half hoping she’d turn around and go back).
“Jim, I need to make you very happy.”
Jim shrugged-still holding his hurting baby makers-and asked,” How ‘bout you don’t hit me in the BALLS? Like that crazy bitch,” Jim said angrily.
Jen fought back laughter; and turned so Jim could look at the side of her face.
“I’m not laughing AT YOU, it’s that crazy bitch that has me pissed,” Jen said hollowly, pinching her leg to keep from laughing. “This is me pissed, for future reference. Jim, why don’t we go beat up the band? Like, they suck so bad I want to smash their instruments, first. Then maybe, we can shove them in the garbage shoot? It could work,” Jen said as she put her hands on Jim’s chest; and then she gazed up at him with warm eyes.
Jack watched them talking for a minute-wishing he had someone just then to talk to.
“Jen, come back to me,” Jack launched his words like a wad of spit. He finished off his glass of wine and his finger crept up to his mouth.
“Jen, I’ll tell ya what, we’ll kill the band and take their leisure suits?” Jim said as he adjusted his shirt (putting up the collar to look cool). “Look, this is the type of big thinking Einstein used. We all know it,” Jim said sarcastically as he rubbed Jen’s back-all the while trying to calm his temper.
“Yeah, I’m all for it!”
“Fred, we thought you had died, why are you letting us down?” Jim asked his hand touching the top of Jen’s butt.
“Jen, I’m half dead, and I’m trying here,” Fred said with his eyes searching for a place to sit down. “Hey, what if we go grab a case of wine and go exploring the ship? It could lead to certain death? See I am trying.”
“Fred, ya know with all the stupidity that comes out of your mouth hole, that was pretty smart,” Jim confessed as he bumped his fist with Fred’s. “Alright let’s go, but we need to grab Jack and Scott first. My feeling is the more the merrier, right, just in case,” Jim said as he ran his hand through Jen’s hair (it felt like silk and he loved it). He could still feel pain in his balls though; and he wanted revenge.
“Jack, Scott, let’s have some funny,” Jen said brightly.
Scott and Jack looked over at Jen-doing an awkward dance-and smiled. Jack wished he could be with Jen, but he wasn’t going to wait for her forever. He liked her spunk and goofy side the most.
They all walked towards the doors behind the band. Jim got close to the guitar player and pretended to dry heave. Jim pushed him hard into the drums (harder than just playing around). The whole room looked up and Jim said apologetically,” Sorry man, must’ve have been that rickety c note that tripped me.”
“Jim, oh my god stop,” Jen begged as she pulled Jim towards the doors.
They found themselves in a video arcade-with the drunkest people on board half heartedly caring about the games themselves-and saw people playing the games. There were 5 rows of the games; and several living rooms set up for relaxation. There were suits you could put on and enter the holographic games that could trick your senses. At the far end, men in black leather long jackets were sitting around smoking long red cigarettes (the smoke smelled like dried beaver meat).
“Do you like the ambience of this room, Jen?” Jack asked. “It makes me think of home.” Jack walked leisurely through someone’s game, and quickly out the other side.
“Yeah, this room takes me back to the first day I ever played video games,” Fred reminisced while grabbing a video game controller. “And reminds me how I PISSED my life away. No seriously, these games look pretty dope,” Fred said as he looked around for a place that had an exit into the other parts of the ship (he was anxious to see the other female passengers).
“Yeah, been there done that,” Jim responded a moment later than normal. “God, the amount of time I spent playing video games I could have, done stuff. I could have been really rich, ya know?” Jim asked hollowly (he was independently wealthy from a tech company he sold).
“Yes, rich is good, Jim, but especially if you’re poor, uh, Jim,” Jen said as she pulled out Jim’s back pocket.
“It’s true though, if you don’t have money, you’ll only really live half a life,” Jim continued after eyeing a Jet Ski game he wanted to play (it used real water and skis that latched onto your shoes). “You can eat, and do some stuff, but you can never truly feel alive. I mean, I feel most alive when I’m acting and traveling,” Jim said as he thought of the highlights of the trip so far. “To travel it takes money, and to act it takes lessons. My old man had very little money, and I always wished he could have been rich. Like super rich,” Jim said as he walked through the room arm and arm with Jen and Fred (Jim thought back to his oatmeal for breakfast everyday youth and felt a chill go down his spine). And he could still feel the ache as new as Sunday clothes.
Jen nodded softly, and thought about her own poor life. It made her wish for luck and good fortune just one time if she could get it.
A man in black and blue clown makeup started doing forward rolls around them.
“Jim, we all know that feeling,” Jen confessed her mind going back to all those peanut butter and jelly sandwiches all the way through school (a sandwich she’d vowed never to eat again). “It’s like the cold of snow on your face, you never forget that sting,” Jen said as she pushed the clown hard in the back with both hands.
“You could try and steal your fortune,” Jack suggested as he nudged a small red haired boy playing the game Thunder Life (the boy just looked too happy for Jack’s sake). “Then again jail is worst than poverty. I don’t know why we aren’t all rich?” Jack asked as he walked along watching Jim take in his ideas. Jack was studying Jim; he knew he was smarter than he let on.
They got close to the men in the black leather jackets; and a short blonde haired man shot up out of his seat, and approached them. He was named simply Rand, and he hated tourists. His hands and face were green, because of his heritage. He had a handsome face, and large shoulders like a bodybuilder.
“No, no, no, turn the hell back!” growled Rand as he waved his hand like a clergy man. “Back, now! This ain’t no area for you,” Rand barked as he stretched out his back and went to push Jim hard into the wall-Jim saw this coming and was ready-and Jim slapped Rand’s hands away before he could (old playground move).
“Says who?” Jim said indignantly as he glared at Rand.
“Says me, idiot, turn around or get your ASS kicked!”
“Alright, Jen, let go of my arm and we’ll leave,” Jim said coyly-knowing he had to use the element of surprise-as he looked down and started to turn. Jen let go of him, and he clocked Rand hard behind the ear. The punch sent him to the floor in a mass of gangly legs and arms. His friends popped up out of their seats and glared at the group.
“Jim, I’m not a fighter per se,” Fred said anxiously as he tried to figure out how to throw a punch.
“Then learn!” Jim yelled his mind filled with adrenaline-he called it kickass juice. “These pricks are getting what’s coming to them. AREN’T YA, HUH! Mess with me and I’ll snap your necks!” Jim growled as he angrily eyed the 3 of them. Jack and Scott picked two of the men-named Pickle and Tento-to attack. Jack had fight training for 5 years; and he was looking forward to kicking some ass.
“O.k., better late than never,” Fred said as he put his fists up (his long fingers unable to decide if they should punch or poke).
“You gonna die for that,” Rand said coldly his eyes never leaving Jim. “Out there, in space, it’s mighty cold. So cold, I hope you got a decent jacket,” Rand said coldly, as he pulled out a small gun with knockout bullets inside. When the bullets hit your body, toxins are absorbed into the skin. This makes you go limp and lose control of all your muscles. Jim pulled out a small pistol and smiled-like he was handing out Rolexes at Christmas.
“I got several, Pal, but I won’t be needin’ ‘em,” Jim responded dully his body barely moving. “Jack, Jen, pick one and GO!” said Jim as he aimed and fired into the belly of Rand. The bullet glanced off his large ribs, and spun him to the ground. Jack and Jen, along with Scott and Fred, ran at Pickle and Tento. Fred ducked a punch; and Scott rocked Pickle with a punch to the chest. Jen kicked Tento hard in the knee. Tento returned the favor bitch slapping her face with the back of his hand. Scott hit Tento in the head with a beer bottle, knocking him unconscious.
Jim laughed and pounced on Rand. He started punching him repeatedly in the back, and along the side. Rand stood up with Jim clinging to his back.
“I ain’t dead yet,” declared Rand. “Pickle, Tento, pick it up!” Rand said as he grabbed hold of Jim’s wrist, and started spinning around. He was strong enough to spin Jim off his back; and to throw him into the wall. Jim righted his body just before the wall; and ran sideways up and then down it. Rand asked in disbelief,” Who the hell are you?”
“The last face you’re ever gonna see,” Jim continued his hands bloody now, “let’s go, I love a parade.” And he clapped his hands hard together; and glared at Rand as he approached. Rand looked around and saw his gun lying up against a table (it was glowing red and had mist seeping out the gun barrel). Jim ran at him, and Rand went for the gun.
Jen punched Pickle in the mouth with the palm of her hand (a self defense trick her father had taught her in 5th grade). Then she kneed him hard in the gut; and she and Scott tossed him hard against the wall (head first). A crowd was forming now of shocked passengers; they were all keenly watching the Malay.
“I’m kicking ass!” Fred said triumphantly as he punched Pickle in the back, but Pickle kicked backwards and hit Fred in the stomach. Fred doubled over and gasped for life giving air.
“I got this one, Fred, stay safe,” Jack said confidently as he sized up Pickle. Pickle broke for Jack; and Jack laid flat on the carpet, and pulled Pickle’s feet out from under him. It made him land face first on the floor (breaking his nose more sideways than a sidecar).
“Good work, Jack, but we need to help Jim,” Scott said his eyes not crying but he was close; his eyes glistened in the lime green light. Jim and Rand were punching each other in the face over and over again; this while Rand continued reaching for his gun.
“Come on Jim! Fight this prick!” Jim’s voice was completely his wrestling coach Mr. Smith from High School; as he tried to land a clean shot to the head of Rand, but Rand was moving awkwardly to avoid the blows.
“Just a bit and you can feel some space,” Rand said as he had his pointer finger-slowly pulling the final answer towards him-on the trigger and his eyes were wider than dairy cows.
He grabbed the gun and went to shoot Jim; but Jen dove on his arm and pulled hard on the gun with both hands.
“Jim, hit him in the…NECK!” Jen watched Jim hammering Rand like he was a prizefighter (she knew he was a badass where he came from).
Jim heard her cries, and locked his eyes on Rand’s neck; and instantly punched him as hard as he possibly could. The blow concaved Rand’s throat; and he started gasping for air and heaving forward like a snowdrift towards the street.
“Fun, man this is fun,” Jen said as she looked around at the large crowd of onlookers. Fred landed a good hard kick to Pickle’s chin; and knocked him clean out.
“Fred’s the man, just ask Fred,” Fred said this as he did-his awkward homemade version of-some breakdancing moves. “Woo, I am smokin’ and I ain’t got no candy fools, YES!” said Fred, now strutting around with his hands chugging like a steam engine.
Jim looked up and saw Rand choking, his face turning red. Jim stood up and walked a few steps back. Then he ran full speed-acting like he was going to kick Rand-and Rand looked up in terror and Jim jumped clean over him.
Jim considered the situation and then said,” What do I care, you’re already dead. Man, could you speed up the dying, you’re really dampening the mood? Fred, maybe we need to dispose of these filthy beavers? Like, these fine carcasses, Fred, these ones,” Jim said, making sure it was loud enough for everyone to hear. He smiled and mopped the back of his sweaty head with his shirt. Jim felt like his violent days were behind him. If only.