Post a response to this discussion thread
Wulfgar tapped the “Caber Dispense” button twice, and two five-metre logs were pushed out. He upped the magstick on his boots to 10, grabbed one caber, set it in his cupped hands with an incoherent shout, flipped it towards Homeboy. Homeboy, meanwhile, had pulled a small drill from a holster at his waist, bent down, and tapped a shallow indentation in the hull, then pulled out a golf tee and screwed it in place. As the caber rotated majestically towards him, he straightened up, placed bright green golf ball on the tee, and pulled a titanium #3 “Salma Hayek” driver from the golf bag on his back. He addressed the ball deliberately, waggling his backside back and forth, even as Wulfgar launched the second caber at him.
DUCKLADY: Ooo! In’t ‘e gorn t’git smashed?
ZORRO: Naw, I doubt so. Th’ two of ‘em talk a mean game, but nuffin’ even comes of i’.
DUCKLADY: Naow, I’m no pilot, but won’t these golf balls and cabers floatin’ round in low-moon orbit be a hazard- like?
ZORRO: Internal navigation systems ‘n teeny-tiny jato rockets on both them things. They returns t’ their owners in fifteen minutes, loike lambs comin’ ‘ome, draggin’ their tails behind ‘em.
DUCKLADY: (dropping a stitch) Wot’s the point of it all then? Oi wouldn’t make no fuss like that if I weren’t goin’ t’ draw blood!
ZORRO: They’re both members of th’ stinkin’ privileged bourgeoiusie enactin’ capitalist and/or imperialist fantasies, imposing their fascist philosophies on th’ real world. Can’t let REAL LIFE intrude, roight?
DUCKLADY: Ahhh! Oi unnerstand now. “Boss games”.
ZORRO: You ‘ave it, m’lady.
DUCKLADY: Funny wot some people will do t’keep themselves amused. (Holds up the nearly-completed duck sweater, complete with the design of Adolph Hitler being bitch- slapped by Donald Duck) D’you think The Donald will like th’ colour scheme?
Outside, Wulfgar panted and glared at Homeboy. He switched to Insult Frequency and found his adversary already there.
HOMEBOY: -- lazy socialist pig, gluttin’ yourself up with suckling pig and moon pies! You hypocrite! You hysteric – (A solid *TINK* came over the radio as HB drove the freeze- dried little sucker directly at Wulfgar.)
WULFGAR: -Y’green-sodomizing, greedy, water-sucking, blinded-by-maggots pus-drinkin’, Republican Sassenach, ye-- *TONK!* ( The solidly-driven golf ball riccochets off of Wulfgar’s plexiglassed noggin. Meanwhile, Homeboy puts himself in fencing posture and elegantly dodges the massive, but slowly-rotating cabers.)
HOMEBOY: (Triumphantly) On the first shot! (He pulls an electronic tablet from his belt and gleefully makes a mark.) At about, oh 180 yards . . that would make it a par three . . . an eagle! (He salutes Wulfgar sardonically.)
WULFGAR: (Roars) IT’S CLAYMORE TIME!!!! (He reaches over his head and pulls out a two-foot hilt from his scabbard, a two-foot hilt without a blade. Wulfgar touches a button on the hilt and TNNNNN! a seven-foot purple field extends.)
Suddenly a 3-D message flickers onto the inner helmets of the two antagonists:
ANNOUNCER: Did you ever want to be a Jedi Knight? Ever think you were channelling Rob Roy? (Graphic of gorey sword battles from history) Do your heroes include all Seven Samurai, except for the horse-faced guy? EEYYYAAHH! (Closeup of helmeted Norseman lopping off George W Bush’s head)
HOMEBOY: What the FUCK?!
ANNOUNCER: You can be all these things if you have the authentic doubled-edged nuclear powered righteously- programmed Hammer of Doom/Orcrist/Glamdring/Foe-Hammer in your hand. Only 68 easy payments of $84.85!! $84.85!! $84.85!!! Offer void where prohibited, except where mandatory, which includes New Jersey, Detroit, and the outer suburbs of Tampa Bay, Florida. Terminations, Inc. is not responsible for the use of this implement, and does not necessarily share the political views and social philosophy of the end-users.
WULFGAR: I got it free, Homeboy, plus $2,000 a month as long as I play the commercial every time I draw. It’s got a range of a thousand yards. I put Dubya in there myself, though.
HOMEBOY: (Scandalized) I thought you were a LIBERAL and vowed poverty. . . .
WULFGAR: (Brandishing the glowing armament as he strides down the hull of the ship) Prepare to ---
Silently and impossibly a black monolith appears between the two. It has a 2:2.1 Cinemascope ratio and is a dead, featureless black. No light appears on its surface, yet the reflections of moving images can be seen, distorted, mirrorlike visors of Wulfgar and Homeboy. Both of them stand transfixed. In the control room, Zorro taps buttons.
ZORRO; Boss? Boss? (He tries several more frequencies. Wulfgar’s and Homeboy’s voice suddenly come over the speaker.)
WULFGAR: (His voice catching in his throat) It’s beautiful, so beautiful! Look! A Scottish Prime Minister! A Scottish President! The Official Hat is now a Tam O’Shanter! It’s wonderful . . wonderful . . .
HOMEBOY: This is what I have wanted to see my whole life! Look at those immaculate greenswards! What! Barbarians! Damaging the grass! (He bursts into tears.) Kill them! Kill them I say! Yes, oh yes, that’s good – his own weapons . . . and so cleanly . . all the blood and brain matter went into the tall rough . . . ummm
ZORRO: Duckie? What’s going on here? Is there something they see in that monolith? Duckie? (He turns around. Duck Lady is watching her monitor. The knitting sits untended on her lap, the last row with four dropped stitches. )
DUCKLADY : (murmuring) All my children. All my duckies. Washington under water. My goodness (she chuckles) there’s The Donald himself, sitting on Dubya’s head as he sits waist-deep in water. Doesn’t he look confused. Oh my! (Laughs.)
Zorro turns back to the control and manipulates the outer cameras until he has a full-on view of the monolith. He sees nothing but blackness. Ultraviolet. Nothing. Infra- red. Nothing. He begins scaling up and down the electromagnetic spectrum, trying to find a view of the black block which shows something more than featurelessness. And suddenly a swirl of colour appears in its centre. Zorro views and leans close into the monitor.
And the monolith disappears.
Wulfgar begins to cry. Homeboy stops weeping. Duck Lady has fallen asleep against the monitor. The radio crackles.
“This is Commander JYD of the Crankyland International Space Station! We have just observed a black monolith . . . (the signal breaks up momentarily) . . . my crew is in a shambles. I am looking for more . . . . (the signal fades out again) . . . observations are that . . . . . . . . MAYDAY!! MAYDAY!!!
End of Chapter Five
Post a response to this discussion thread