We were in the hospital cafeteria, in a little brightly upholstered booth in one corner, hunched over plates of mediocre burgers and fries in generic paperware. It tasted pretty good though, just by virtue of being greasy food in a starved stomach.
We had been gently evicted when the Quinns finally made it to the hospital from the airport. Jerry and I didn’t want to intrude on a family’s personal bonding time. Sam and Ron simply didn’t want to deal with Travis’ parents. I could understand that motive too.
...
Jerry, sitting next to me, catty corner from Sam, suddenly and without warning, shot his straw wrapper at my girlfriend. “Hey!” she shouted with a little laughing shriek, and she picked up her own straw and shot her own wrapper at the offender. Jerry held up his straw and used it to block the incoming missile.
“That’s it!” I said authoritatively, “This will not be stood for. Out, foul creature, and leave this damsel in peace!” I commanded haughtily as I whipped the straw out of my coke, sending a shower of brown liquid cascading gently on the heads of those at the table like a magical sparkling fountain, and pointed my ferocious weapon at the villain who was challenging my fair maiden’s honor. “En garde!” I shouted, causing some of the other nearby patrons of the cafeteria to turn their heads to look at us. I made a point of ignoring them. The knightly challenge at hand was much more important.
“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be, is it?” Jerry counterd, brandishing his own makeshift weapon and cocking his head in challenge, “You wanna take this outside?” he suggested confrontationally.
“That would likely be much better,” I replied, in a terrible British accent. We both removed our jackets and exited the booth, taking positions nearby, now with more elbow room, but also in much better view of all the other patrons.
“Avert your eyes, my fair ladies,” I addressed the two princesses still seated, “Your eyes are far too fair to witness this duel.” They giggled.
I assumed a gallant stance, poised for my attack. Jerry did the same, though with a more lumbering demeanor. I made the first attack, which he parried with a quickness that his relaxed attitude did not betray. Then he came in for a jab, which I dodged nimbly, sending me much closer to a small table with an elderly couple eating fried chicken and watching us with interest. We battled on thus, back and forth for several minutes, exchanging taunts and insults with each other.
“Thou shouldst not insult a lady in such a manner as that. ‘Tis highly improper and not at all chivalrous of thee!” I shouted to my opponent as we began.
“Oh yeah?” Jerry answered, “Well your mom seems to like it!”
“Argh!” I grunted in frustration and exertion as yet another lunge of my sword found no purchase. “I admit it, you are better than I am.”
“Then why are you smiling?” Jerry asked, smiling a little.
“Because I know something you do not know,” I answered with a smirk as I blocked another attempt at my chest, “I am not left handed.”
Jerry’s brow furled in concentration as his efforts redoubled and he fought on. Then, after another minute, he spoke again, “I have something to tell you,” he smiled slyly to me.
“Tell me,” I urged, still battering him with my blows.
He paused, “I am not left handed either.”
I roared as he switched hands as well, and attached him with all my force, but we were still evenly matched. I had to resort to terrible taunts in an attempt to gain the upper hand, “Your mother was a hamster and your father smelled of elderberries!” I shouted to him.
Jerry broke down and let out a hearty chuckle. “Touché,” he answered, lowering his weapon and raising his hands out in a congratulatory gesture.
I dropped my arms and looked at him in confusion. “No I didn’t,” I corrected him.
And my enemy took that opportunity to strike the deadly blow.
“Alas!” I groaned loudly, clutching at my chest as I fell to the floor, “What vile trickery is this that robs me of my life breath without the justice of a fair fight?” I exclaimed in an outraged voice, “Oh gods! Avenge me of this dishonorable death!” Now addressing Jerry, I continued, “And thou, unjust villain. Thou shalt I haunt all the days of thy life. From beyond the grave, even unto the ends of the earth, shalt I inflict torture upon thy life and upon thy house. Thou shalt find no rest upon this earth for the injustice thou hast done here to me and to mine fair maiden yonder.” And with that, I gurgled and collapsed into a heap on the stone cold floor, dead.
The older couple stood up first, I heard their chairs push back, and their hands begin to clap enthusiastically. And within a few seconds, the entire cafeteria, which had long ago stopped what they were doing to watch our duel, had burst into a rousing standing ovation. Jerry kicked me lightly with his toe and I opened my eyes to see him beckoning me to stand up. I complied, concentrating on the still serious expression on my face. We turned to face our adoring public, clasped hands, raised them above our heads, and took a profound bow. The cheering redoubled, and again when Sam, my damsel in distress, stood up and thanked me for my valor on my lips.
And then we couldn’t stop laughing for half an hour later. The poor Quinns, up on the fifth floor. They missed the entire thing.
The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy is a very unevenly edited book and contains many passages that simply seemed to its editors like a good idea at the time.One of these supposedly relates the experiences of one Veet Voojagig, a quiet young student at the University of Maximegalon, who pursued a brilliant academic career studying ancient philology, transformational ethics and the wave harmonic theory of historical perception, and then, after a night of drinking Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters with Zaphod Beeblebrox, became increasingly obsessed with the problem of what had happened to all the biros he'd bought over the past few years.There followed a long period of painstaking research during which he visited all the major centres of biro loss throughout the galaxy and eventually came up with a quaint little theory which quite caught the public imagination at the time. Somewhere in the cosmos, he said, along with all the planets inhabited by humanoids, reptiloids, fishoids, walking treeoids and superintelligent shades of the colour blue, there was also a planet entirely given over to biro life forms. And it was to this planet that unattended biros would make their way, slipping away quietly through wormholes in space to a world where they knew they could enjoy a uniquely biroid lifestyle, responding to highly biro-oriented stimuli, and generally leading the biro equivalent of the good life.And as theories go this was all very fine and pleasant until Veet Voojagig suddenly claimed to have found this planet, and to have worked there for a while driving a limousine for a family of cheap green retractables, whereupon he was taken away, locked up, wrote a book, and was finally sent into tax exile, which is the usual fate reserved for those who are determined to make a fool of themselves in public.When one day an expedition was sent to the spatial coordinates that Voojagig had claimed for this planet they discovered only a small asteroid inhabited by a solitary old man who claimed repeatedly that nothing was true, though he was later discovered to be lying.There did, however, remain the question of both the mysterious 60,000 Altairan dollars paid yearly into his Brantisvogan bank account, and of course Zaphod Beeblebrox's highly profitable second-hand biro business.-Douglas AdamsSorry, it's just that I seem to be having a remarkable amount of difficulty keeping a normal-coloured pen about when I need one. Thought I'd share a peek into my resulting mental process.-Rebekah
Whatcha think? I like it.
