Brutal Word Wrangler: Recalled

 

Suggested Audio Candy

 

Jerry Goldsmith “Soundtrack Suite”

 

I’ve been besides myself for weeks now over my upcoming trip to the red planet. Never in my lifetime did I have the vaguest inkling that it would become colonized and, as for the prospect of vacationing there myself, it seemed plain preposterous. Nevertheless that is exactly where I’m heading. It will be bittersweet as I have been informed that Alan’s chopper, while robust, would lack the sufficient fuel to get us there so I must bid him adieu at least until my return. I shall send him a postcard on arrival, maybe a shot of that famous three-tittied temptress that I keep hearing about. He’ll love that; it will sit proudly alongside his hula monkey on the dashboard no doubt. For now Alan my old pal it is goodbye and thanks for the memories.

Speaking of which, I’m less than thrilled about my method of transportation. Memory implants are apparently all the rage nowadays as they cut down time spent in transit. Rekall have hooked this shit up for me and their brochure admittedly makes it look rather idyllic. The first thing I shall be doing on arrival will be laying out my beach towel and grabbing some solar refreshment. I shall, of course, pack my flops as I have heard the sand there gets a little toasty but it seems a scant price to pay for a fortnight of interstellar relaxation. As long as I pack enough currency for a JohnnyCab to take me to my quarters then I shall be as happy as a pike at a pool party.

As for the dreams, well I must confess, they have been a little left-field for my liking. It is reportedly part and parcel of the implantation process and a few lurid phantasms never bothered me before so why waste the habit of a lifetime? I’m also not over enamored with having to lug around this briefcase; I am not yet sure as to what good a bunch of gadgetry and a video recording will come to but the money will sure come in handy. The Last Resort is the hot spot according to locals and I’ve been told to look out for my tour guide Benny. He’s been in the same job for the past five years and I guess the cash is a bonus when you’ve got five mouths to provide for. However it is Kuato who offers the most fascinating proposition.

Kuato is the font of all knowledge and can be found knocking back jello shots with his brother at an underground base beneath the premises. It sure would be a shame not to meet him face to face after all I have heard about him. I’m going to be busy, that much is sure, but I figure it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and I can’t deny myself this inimitable pleasure. I’m even letting Bonus Brain tag along; sure we’ve had our differences but I’m convinced he’s changed and, so long as he keeps himself to himself, I see no reason to piss on his Catherine wheel. I shall remain vigilant at all times as his intentions have been known to be questionable at best but he seems genuinely excited about making the trip and this could represent the R&R we have both necessitated for some time now. Anyhoots, the time has come to make my way back to hotel and prepare to get my ass to Mars.

Customs were an absolute nightmare. The guy at front desk seemed to have some memory issues himself and kept asking the same question over and over. “How long do you prepare to stay on Mars?” he rattled on. “Two weeks.” It was as though I was speaking in verse. I suspect he had suffered from over exposure to radiation as I hear that’s an issue here. As if he wasn’t enough of a thorn in my side, the security there is totally fucked. Three times they made me walk through the X-ray machine and the damn thing kept beeping incessantly. I took off my sneakers, belt, jewelry and surrendered my coinage but it still wasn’t enough. It appears the metal plate in my dome was the thing causing the disruption. That’s Bonus Brain’s fault, I told him a thousand times over, no swing ball but he never listens.

Actually I am beginning to lament asking Bonus Brain along as he swears blind that he thought we were taking Virgin Atlantic and he seems perturbed by our method of transportation. I knew it, he just had to throw a spanner in the works. Nothing I do is ever good enough for him. I think the time is nigh for me to cut him loose as he has used up his last credit and is skating on precariously thin ice. He did say he would split the cost of the JohnnyCab so I’ll keep him around until I’m settled but after that he can fend for himself. Nothing is going to spoil my getaway, least of all a jumped-up little lame-brain like he. I’ve tried my damnedest to remain civil and nothing I ever do satisfies him.

My hotel room is better than expected, I think it may well be the honeymoon suite. I’m not complaining after so much grief getting through immigration and I figure I deserve a break so it seems fitting. Maybe it was the fact that Bonus Brain and I spent the whole time in front reception griping like a married couple but, whatever their reasoning, it’ll do just fine. I watched that video recording while I unpacked and it harped on about some tracking device which had been planted in my nostril prior to transit. I’m sick to the back teeth of conspiracy theories, does nobody understand that I’m only here to work on my tan, maybe knock back a couple of Margaritas for the road. I don’t care about whatever drama is hot topic here as I’m merely a guest, not some intergalactic agent for crissakes.

I think I may make my way down to Venusville and unwind some after such an incident-laden opener to my time on Mars. That device in my case need not go to waste, I shall use it to prise out Bonus Brain and leave him back at the hotel so as to enjoy the hospitality without him rambling on about alien artifacts and turbinium reactors. Not entirely convinced as to the method of extraction, he may be slight but I’m fairly convinced that removing him nasally isn’t the best way to go. Fortunately Rekall also packed a sopping towel which may come in handy as I’ve got a stinker of a migraine. Truth be known I am still unconvinced about jamming a pair of forceps up my hooter but I do as the training video instructs and pluck Bonus Brain from his roost. He doesn’t take it at all well so I just tell him to relax as he’ll live longer that way and skedaddle before he his gears begin grinding.

I’m running out of credits fast so Johnnycab can find some other schmuck to extort. Instead I call upon the services of Benny. Despite having just sat down with his family to eat, Benny couldn’t be more accommodating. He dallies not in swinging by and, before you can say Mars Attacks we’re at the hive of activity. Now,I’m no Ryan Gosling but, up against the likes of some of the mutants who frequent this joint, I’d say the chance of copping at least a feel are way better than average. What a bunch of Merricks, this place may be happening but it sure attracts the mutants. They blame it on poor air circulation but I’m calling their bluff. Maybe if it were just a handful of varicose veins and the odd flaky scalp then they’d have a case but it must be autumn down by the ugly tree is all I am prepared to say on the matter. I will say this, I ain’t eating the bar nuts.

Fortunately the ladies are a little easier on the peepers and there is one in particular who keeps giving me the eye. I milk it ’til the udders dry up as competition is a no-show this night and it appears to be having the desired effect as she is wiggling her touche to my coordinates as we speak. Don’t blow this Wrangler; this isn’t Ma Bates on the platter, this chick has a pulse so don’t go flapping those lips without prior engagement of grey matter. If I play my cards right I shall be making scrunched-up cum-faces before the first round of drinks. I have to wrangle well however as, mutants inevitably always have ridiculously overblown schlongs, so Earth winky isn’t ever likely to serenade her.

“Why hello my dear. I must say it is frightfully delightful to make your acquaintance. Can I interest you in a strawberry daiquiri and this lily I plucked from Earth especially for you?” My shit is on fire, she doesn’t stand a hope in hell of resisting my charms. “Listen putz. I ain’t got all night. If you want to floss my Fallopians with that iddy biddy langoustine you call a dick then put your money where your mouth is.” With that, she flops out three, yes you heard me right, three titties and I’ll tell you exactly where my mouth is. It’s being kicked around the floor by some dude with club foot, that’s where. In all my days I never thought I’d see a set of mammalia quite so majestic. Even if you subtract one for feeding it still leaves two for the kneading.

Bonus Brain is shit out of cookies right now. Had he not proved such a liability there would be one for him too. Sharing is caring and I just so happen to be a caring kind of guy. It’s his loss and to the gain of Bonus Balls. I shall be releasing them like it’s rollover week and she will realize there’s a reason why Earth Girls are Easy. “They… erm… that’s a rather resplendent rack you have there.” I’m still laying on the schmooze and this is looking like an increasingly sweeter treat given the fact that I won’t be required to send her sexy undies every birthday as Victoria’s Secret in Chernobyl is the only place I believe that stocks three-booby braziers. “You got change of a hundred?” It’s on.

Actually, it’s off. Nothing to do with my money being no good; just shitty timing is all. “Kuato will see you now.” Screw you Benny, can’t ‘cha see I’m busy. “I’m not paid by the hour you know. I got five kids to feed.” Yeah and I have three nipples to suck. What’s your fucking point? I suppose I should pop my head in while I’m here; damn you level head, I like wonky bonce better. I just pray she sticks around as we have unfinished business to attend to upon my return. There’s got to be enough backed up in these here pods to pour Kelis one mutha of a milkshake, triple thick. Later Wrangler; prioritize.

I’m finally meeting the famous Kuato and what an anti-climax it’s turned out to be. The last time I saw a freak of nature that pug-ugly he had his own wicker basket. However I will never be culpable of judging another purely on appearance so I listen intently as he feeds me his mystic spiel. “You must defeat Vilhos Cohaagen and free Mars from his cruel dictatorship. That is your task this day. That charlatan owns the monopoly on breathable air and we’re all becoming more deformed by the day due to radiation and diminishing oxygen supplies.” I shrug at the little fella. “Really? Hadn’t noticed.” I forget he’s psychic and he sees through my ruse. “If that is the case you wouldn’t mind biting my toenails for me. They are devil to reach these days.” Checkmate.

“Okay, okay. What do you want me to do?” He knows he has won the wit-battle and so do I so I may as well cut to the chase. “There are people on their way. They are close. Richter and his men are upstairs right now ordering drinks and they’re aware of your presence here. It’s imperative you leave through these sub-tunnels and locate the reactor before it is too late. If he gets his hands on the artifact then we are all in grave peril. You are our only hope Brutal Word Wrangler.” Looks like horizontal maypole dancing isn’t on the menu after all; once again I’ve struck out at a critical moment and Bonus Balls will remain in their shrink-wrap. Sorry guys, tell you what, our next adventure will be somewhere wall to wall with chicks. Leave it with me.

I begin on my new primary mission and have every intention of saving the planet, really I do. But it is just a palava and not at all what the brochure suggested. I should be out there constructing sand castles at this very moment but instead I have the fate of civilization on my shoulders. Fuck this for a punnet of peaches, I’ve talked myself out of it. I’ll pick up Bonus Brain, maybe grab ten minutes under a parasol and then get me ass as far away from Mars as is humanly conceivable. That’s it; I have a plan. My own plan of my own construction, not some laundry list left by some cock-blocking Quiche. Dagnabbit I forgot to pack the Factor 50. Looks like my bikini line will have to wait.

Bonus Brain is in high spirits which can only be a good thing. “Que onda mi amigo. Come and check this out, they have their own Red Tube here and it’s quite an eye opener let me tell you.” I appreciate his attempt at reaching out but his timing is all off-kilter. “We’re leaving. NOW!” He is less than amused, I can tell. “Chupa verga un burro!” Uh-huh, he’s pissed. “Tell you what. If you’re telling me there’s trouble then my tiny mind can only boggle. I’ll let this one slide but you owe me. Take the pill on the dresser labeled ‘a symbol of his desire to return to reality’. Next thing you’ll know, we’re back home. It’s as easy as that, memory erased. But you owe me big time. Got it?” I agree to those terms and neck the pill without procrastination. First place I’m getting my ass to when I get back is Rekall for a refund.

 

 

Click here to read When Dusk Met Dawn

 

 

Truly, Really, Clearly, Sincerely,

 

Keeper of the Crimson Quill

Copyright: Crimson Quill: Savage Vault Enterprises 2014