115 hungry

Canada choked back the full-meal-in-a-pill with a minimum of water to wash it down. The Bald Man had put the entire crew on extreme rations for the duration of the journey. The entire crew consisted of three people and one of them was a robot. Baldy possibly failed to think this far ahead -- food storage would have been a nice contingency plan -- but more likely he was just a masochistic sadist. He dry swallowed his dinner, gave a deep demonstrative exhale as if this were the most satisfying act in the history of mankind and followed it up with the movement of the corners of his mouth in an upward direction, resembling something like a grin, but it would have felt wrong to describe it as such.

"What are you?" said Canada. This was a fair question. The escape pod and its escapees had been floating were ever it was that they were for a lengthy period now and Canada still knew little to nothing about her captor. This was as good a moment as any for get to know yous.

"I'm a monster and I eat little girls." It was all starting to make sense, he had brought food after all.

098

The Bald Man strapped himself into a small escape pod with Canada and Octabug in tow. The walls were coming down around them, the metallic structure was folding like so many nylon sheets that Canada used to help her mother with, as the pod blasted out to temporary safety. She expected that it had been built of sturdier stuff, the way it collapsed had her almost thinking that she could have broken free from her shackles any moment if she'd only exerted a glimmer of effort. Encouraged by the thought she attempted to circumvent her current restraint, but found that her belt was securely fastened.

The Bald Man looked at her and grinned "They found me, but they still couldn't stop me. I can't be stopped. That's something you'll learn very quickly."

Canada recalled that her captor had in fact been stopped mid-soliloquy when whatever it was attacked, but she didn't call him on it, she was more interested in what it was he was saying when the unknown enemy interpolated.

"What happened back there?"

"Always inquisitive aren't you?"

"You almost got me killed. I think I have a right to know."

A loud clang reverberated through the ship as if some one were using its hull as a gong. Greens and browns flashed across the monitor display. Octabug sprung to the dashboard and began working away furiously. The pod zigzagged multiple times in what Canada guessed were evasive maneuvers, and felt would soon result in motion sickness.

The bald man Grimaced."That my dear, was the Other." He didn't even bother to look at her when he spoke.

"OK, that doesn't help very much. Are they what we're saving the world from?" she said in a half-mocking tone.

"You are wise beyond your years, young lady. It is indeed."

"And you're leading the charge?"

"Right again."

Canada looked away from The Bald Man, mirroring his communication style. "We've got no hope then."

86.

Her Great Aunt was kidnapped a long time ago. Now she was too. Were these felonies somehow related? She couldn't be sure. The Bald Man was waffling on still, better pay attention.

"You have been brought here for a purpose. A very important purpose indeed. Do you understand?"

Canada scanned the room as subtly as possible, the octabug had retired to a neutral corner, the door, which was indiscernible from the walls was shut, no immediate points of escape were apparent.

"You're allowed to talk little one, we're all friends here. Nod or say yes." He was back to good cop, that game usually involved a foil, but he seemed content to play both roles.

"Um, no. What are you talking about. You're not making any sense."

His eyebrows revealed a slight exception to this last comment, but he managed to stay in character.

"Of course, of course. I don't want to overwhelm you Miz Canada."

"Canada will do." She was pushing it.

"I think I may have jumped the gun, perhaps it's better that I do the talking and then I'll field your questions and/or snarky comments at the end. O.K?" He kicked over the mini table, spilling the uneaten burger over the floor. "This is important, important enough that I've brought here at great risk to myself. You see, the world is in trouble, big trouble and only you and I and your miserable friends can save it."

"I can play the piano, what the hell are you talking about?"

He bent down and half-heartedly slapped her, "That's your last warning. We haven't got much time. The genes are -"

Whirooooooooo!!!!

"Oh for *&%$ sake. Now what?" Some kind of alarm was sounding.

80.

Somewhere in the ether, Simon thinks ... FF where are you? I need some help here, I've just walked into Monty Python's quest for the holy grail. I'm concerned. Wait, that's selfish of me isn't it. How are you doing? Oh man, what about Daly and C , I think they where supposed to come over yesterday evening. They would not believe this. I don't believe this. OK, this vomit stinks. How can I win them over. A dragon, a real life dragon. Dragon's have stars. All right I've got to look around here, there's got to be something about dragons and Galahad. Ah, here we go...

73.

All parents should have a favourite. I only had one child so I wouldn't have to choose. This is the kind of jacked up thinking Canada had to endure on a daily basis. She harvested that gem from her mum's (mom's?) journal, with out her knowlege of course. The rest of its contents she'd rather not think about, yes it got a whole lot worse. C wasn't entirely sure what her mum had to do with her current prediciment, maybe she was getting soft.

"Like I said my dear, I'm here to help you. Maybe it's better you didn't eat that burger, what I'm about to share is probably best received on an empty stomach."

66.

The octabug continued to pull implements from what may have been a Doctor-Who-Telephone-Boothe dimensioned storage unit tucked away under its shiny exterior. Before Canada knew it she was armed with a knife and fork, complimented with a paisley patterned bib.


The bald man pulled up a chair. "Don't be shy, dig in, Octa here will show you what a real burger tastes like." He gestured toward the table. The bug obliged and popped out 2 burgers with twin bottles of prestige spring water.


"Generous. But I'm not hungry, crazy guy." Canada needed to work on her conflict resolution skills.


Things by most measures of normality had gotten drastically out of hand. This guy had at least 20 different personalities to choose from. C would have liked to hone in on the weakest one and crush it, but the rapid random toggling of personas kept her on her toes so much so that she couldn't find her feet. All the fancy foot work in the world couldn't help her now, she wasn't even sure that this was the same world that she'd woken upto this morning. A different strategy was in order. She just couldn't think of what it should be.

59. Earthcore Edition

"Look b#&^." said the Baldman,"If you know what's good for you. You'll say hello to my best friend here."

At the door stood an impossibly shiny, sickly tentacled, shiny hentai like creature. It was actually all of those things (except for the hentai part Canada hoped). She sat bolt upright and stood statue still. This guy was a piece of s&** on her shoe that she needed to dispose of immediately before his stink became overwhelming. And now he had a friend even more disgusting than he was. F&*^%$# prick.

The octobug approached with uncannily smooth vomit inducing movements, no doubt perfected through years of evolutionary development (If the creature was in fact a living being). It drew a crafty looking knife from its -- some undefined body part -- did I mention it was impossibly shiny.

"Mother Fu@#$%" said Canada, "That's one shiny f*&%$&# bug." She was sick of the Baldman's mood swings, sick of his cryptic musings, sick of this sickly creepy crawly monstrosity that was on its way to greet her.

It began to talk...

click, click, click.

"Mother Fu@#$%" Said Canada.

* * *

somewhere Scott Sigler's eyes are rolling. Please read/listen to Earthcore

51.

When Canada turned 7 she was diagnosed as a musical prodigy. When she turned 12 she was committed to the School Of Gifted Youngsters For The Under Privileged Bourgeoisie Who Are Good At Arts That Have No Measurable Value (that's how she remembered the name, anyway). There she discovered her love for herself and the prospect that if she were ever to take Philip K. Dick's Voight-Kampff test she would have surely failed, perhaps the only test that could have bested her.

Bolstered by her innate abilities, she continued to distance herself from her peers by her good looks and in a revolt against orthodoxy by her talent. Air Canada was destined for arrival at Carnegie, ETA: any time now. Unfortunately, her parents concerned with her lack of social decorum, insisted she enlist with the rank and file at a normal high school. They even made her get and hold a job before she could move on to the bright lights of Seventh Avenue. If their goal was to deny her ambitions of displaying her prodigious talent at a venue which she deemed worthy of her skill, they had surely succeeded. She was now at the mercy of a somewhat disheveled, highly erratic, possibly madman.

48.

"What's so damned funny?"

A shock wave of tyrannical glee passed through the Bald Man's body.

"Oh, it's nothing really." He stifled a giggle, and edged a little closer to composure. " I'm just admiring your pathetic predicament, I was the engineer, and I must say: I do good work."

"%*&# you."

"Is that what you really, want?"

If Canada were a ray gun the concentrated force of her present death stare would have vaporized the Bald Man instantly. As it was, she wasn't, she'd have talk her way out. Not her strong suit, not when she was this pissed. Who was this guy?

"I want out. Now if this is about your burger, sure I got my mate to spit in it, after your performance you earned it. But I think this is taking revenge just a little too far. You got issues mister. I didn't want to have to go all Oprah on you, but you've got to sort your #&%$ out you piece of #^$."

"Enough! Contrary to what you may think you insipid tart, I've brought you here to help you."
It was uncanny how quickly baldy cycled through moods, this statement was absorbed into Canada's conscious almost entirely through the spittle that he barked out as he charged her and squatted so that they were face to face.

"Right. Whatever. You always knock out and lock down people you're trying to help?" She said sullenly.

He stood resolutely, "Always."

The seeming earnestness of his answer momentarily caught Canada off guard. All she could manage in reply was a meager "Oh..."

41.

A potpourri of emotions burst open in Canada's chest. She was angry at the Bald Man, who'd disrupted her fast food chi and later rendered her unconscious with very little provocation. The escalation from light cussing to physical violence was unwarranted. He stood in front of her now, with that stupid grin, while she was anchored to the ground by a ball and chain.

She was tired, she was scared, she was confused, not to mention intrigued, it wasn't every day that she managed to get herself kidnapped. This was the most excitement she'd seen outside the confines of your typical bombastic mass media escapism. But this was real life. What a stupid thought (she thought); she should be terrified out of her brains.

33.

The bald man walked down a corridor muttering to himself, a bad habit he'd developed over the years."I am a singularity in the space time continuum of life. I am the Robinson Crusoe of post-modernity. I am the missing link in the horror that is the Human Genome. I am your brain on imaginary magic mushrooms. I am..." He pushed a button unlocking a heavy set steel door "...very happy to see you Mizz Canada."

Canada looked up, she wasn't impressed.

23.

Canada sat up and gingerly touched the lump that protruded out the side of her head. She groaned and lay back down again.

What had begun as a simple trip -- a diversion on a day where the available time seemed disproportionate to the worthwhile activities planned to fill it -- had somehow descended into an unprecedented nightmare delivering new and unwanted levels of mind%*&#ery. Crawling up into a ball and hoping it would all go away seemed like the most sensible option. But as she became more cognizant of her surroundings she couldn't help but wonder: Where was Daly? Where was Absalom? Where was the smoldering rubble of Simon's decimated house? Canada sat up again, she couldn't help herself. Where the hell was she?

14.

"You *#&%!@ you're the %$^&*# from work today."

"Indeed my dear. I'm your worst nightmare, an abusive customer who doesn't actually want to buy anything."

"Terrifying. What are you doing here? Where's Simon?"

"You know as well as I do you impetuous self-absorbed wench. He went that way."

Canada gave a big huff, lent slightly forward with arms open at an acute angle and flared wrists, pausing for dramatic effect. Then she stormed away, stopped mid step suddenly realizing that she hadn't actually done anything useful yet. Simon was still flying(!?) off into the dark night, Absalom was in need of hair and skin grafts, while Daly seemed to be struggling to find his freshly spilt marbles.

She turned to her agitator again, "Now you list--," he smashed her over the head with his flashy walking stick.

13.

The bald stranger emerged from the scattered rubble of Simon's former home. His shades were dislodged from their standard position and sat asymmetrically on his head. He smiled like he may have just killed your gran ma.

"Hey you!" screamed C "What just hap--. It's you!"

10.

Simon's residual rocket trail flitted in and out of existence. This universe is typified by transience, from the smallest particle to the biggest dickhead. It's all the same stuff. Mercury has an abnormal orbit and people now start flying out of nowhere like electron particles, there's got to be a rational explanation, what we need is a paradigm shift.

"Come on Daly lets go, we gotta find Simon."

8.

The puppy whom Canada had named Absolom, began to yelp in what sounded like a bad fossetto.

"What did you do to Absolom? He's barking like a girl."

"I don't know maybe the stimulation of walking's too much or maybe he just doesn't like the stupid name you gave him."

BOOM!

An explosion knocked Canada into the trunk of a nearby tree. She'd often thought that flora growing out of side walks was unnatural. Today life seemed to be affirming all her pet peeves.

Absolom was singed in a way that improved his complexion, while Daly was left exclaiming, "Holy Moly."

Not swearing when you have perfect reason to is a bad sign. Simon's house had just exploded in front of them, their being outside and not in was some consolation. But the unexpected explosion was only the beginning of the (up until then) happy trio's bewilderment. Simon burst through the roof and appeared to be flying. Was he running on rocket power? Flames were blazing from who knows where, but he seemed perfectly happy as a human comet, the destruction of his property notwithstanding.

Daly's suspension of disbelief snapped. After that he didn't know what to do.

4.

ribit, ribit

"I don't understand, he's not eating again. I'm going to have to start a damn pet shop just to get rid of these things."

"They're so cute though. I swear if the SPCA ever found out about this racket, you'd probably end up as Michael Vick's celly. Hey,I had this guy come into work today. You coulda fed him to your little beasty. Koopa probably feels guilty about eating the puppies, but you put another monster in there with him and he'd let loose, my guy woulda been perfect."

"That's dumb and you sound more depraved than I am."

ribit, ribit

"You're not depraved Daly, you're just misunderstood. Animal sacrifice is perfectly normal."

"Funny. Well C, shall we take one of these mutts for a walk while I think about what to do with them. I'm gonna drop by Simon's long the way. You shoulda heard him earlier. I mean I know he's crazy, but it's like he's constantly trying to out do himself."

ribit

"What are we gonna do there?"

"Go to the moon."

2.

Canada had been at work all day. It was the kind of work that most of us can appreciate. Flipping paddies, scrubbing floors and making smiley faces at people like you're an email emoticon. Her experience had taught her that people we're infinitely dumber when they took on the mantle of customers and that by some inexplicable gift of providence she was somehow spared from adopting this stupidity herself when she was on the other side of the counter. This made it all the more difficult to empathise when someone ummed and ahhed and changed their order for the nth time, but in spite of her superiority she played it cool, made it out like she understood indecision and sometimes even wished deep down that she really could...

"Can I take your order, please."

"How bout you make it and I'll take it."

Was that a joke, lame.
"Ha, of course sir. If you'd be so kind as to let me know what you'd like, we'll have it here in a flash and you can be on your merry way."

"You'd like that now wouldn't you."

"Excuse me?"

"you types are all the same with your shiny badges and matching uniforms, think you can talk down to the rest of us civilized folk. And if I wanted you to flash anything it certainly wouldn't be my meal."

....This wasn't one of those times. Canada paused for a moment took a deep breathe and felt a whole lot more justified about her stance on customers.

"I'm sorry sir, you're right, can I take your order please Mr. ****wit."

1.

"I'm powered by the magic of sugar." Simon: Sugardelic Superstar

"What are you saying?" Daly: Inventive, Didactic, Inquisitor.

"Some people might call it an addiction, I prefer to call it an insulin spike."

"Aha, so what is it do?" Eyes beginning to show signs of concern.

"Glad you asked. It raises my blood sugar levels thereby releasing insulin into my system. The thing I don''t understand is that if the insulin's already there (in my body somewhere) then why does my body hold it back? Well ya know maybe I am addicted, don't tell anyone OK.

"Why not you just did, anything else?"

"Not that I know of, just the usual. Flying to the moon later today. It's one of my secret powers. Our secret now."

"Umm, what are you on?"

"Sugar!"

This last statement seemed to put a damper on the conversation.

When they came to themselves. Daly looked hesitant about something, visibly. Cerebraly he may have been indifferent, but I don't read minds.
If you could have seen them both they would have reminded you of The Gorillaz, not that ape-like contemporaneous ancestor of humans but the cartoon crappy band The Gorillaz. It's very distinctive.

They both smelled more or less the same. With their noses. However, Simon had been experimenting with other orifices without success. Food usually entered through the mouth & exited through the rectum, while undergoing several chemical reactions. Most of them unpleasant, but then there was insulin.

When Daly was a younger chap he had a pet dog, which was depressingly unoriginal, He decided then that it was his life's mission to feed pet puppies to his specially imported Komodo Dragon, the novelty was quite exciting. Canada hasn't been the same since. With the recent diet issues of Koopa (the Komodo Dragon), Daly's been in search of a new life's quest. Simon wonders if sugar is the answer.