Hopefully you will not mind my little entry into your forum.
Please feel free to comment. If nothing else at least I had some fun, and got some practice in.
I call this series of stories-
Trakkin Falos
Episode one
An Inconvenient Tooth
The Bounty Hunter stopped his restless steed in front of a quaint handmade sign which identified the peaceful little hamlet in the distance as ‘Divenrell’, he warily looked past the sign at the artfully designed buildings and snorted, “Odd name.” He followed the well worn road which paralleled a lazy babbling river and made his way toward the village, his dark eyes analyzed the interesting architecture. The buildings seemed to blend into their natural surroundings as if they did not wish to disturb or offend nature by their presence. He shook his darkly tanned head and thought, “My quarry leads me to the strangest places…”
The criminal known as Falos had always been a cagy fellow and difficult to track, but ever since his stealing of the King’s enchanted dragon tooth he had become doubly so. The Sheriff had refused to tell him what its powers were, though more than likely the truth was that the Sheriff himself did not even know. Whatever it did, it seemed to make Falos even better at blending in with crowds and disappearing, and changing his appearance. A handy thing for a thief to have, it is no wonder he had gone through so much trouble to steal it. Fortunately there seemed to be a side effect to the use of the artifact, it seemed to be affecting his mind. And more importantly causing his appearance to sometimes unintentionally change, it was this curious side effect which had produced the few clues he had acquired to track the felon.
The sound of his horse’s hooves echoing and reverberating on the bridges planks snapped him out of his reverie; he looked down the cobblestoned road which connected the bridge to the town. It dissected the sleepy little borough and it appeared to be the widest of the visible roads, a large number of businesses faced onto it. He spied what appeared to be an inn, which would be a good place to start his investigation. Besides he could do with a bath and a descent meal. As he drew closer he could make out the writing on the shops placards, it appeared to be a form of elvish; this was not too surprising considering the architecture and the quality of the woodworking. Though a majority of the businesses had yet to open their doors he could already hear music, boisterous conversation and even a little slurred singing coming from a building that the sign identified as the ‘Ignoble Unicorn’.
As the stable boy walked his tired mount around the corner to be cleaned and fed, the equally tired bounty hunter hefted his saddlebags onto his shoulder and entered the establishment. He was pleased to see many varied species within the lively tavern area, which meant he could gather information from many different regions at once; he had feared there might only be locals frequenting the business. He took a seat on a well worn stool at the bar and laid his burden beside him on another stool. After stretching and popping the kinks out of his sore back he took off a hat as weathered and sun beaten as his own features, and ran calloused fingers through his sweat matted hair. A portly man wearing a grease stained denim apron over a ‘The Pimpin Ewoks Endor Concert Tour’ T shirt leaned on the counter top, “What will it be stranger?” “How about a ‘Red Matter’ and some hot breakfast?” The plump bartender rubbed his stubble covered chin, “Breakfast is not a problem, but I am not sure we have all the ingredients for a ‘Red Matter’, not much of a call for them around here…” He called the order back to his wife working the grill and pulled out a rolodex full of mixed drink recipes, he muttered the ingredients as he read them off, “Red Bull, everclear, sloe gin, blood oranges, red rum-“ A small boy gasped when he overheard the last ingredient spoken and began shaking and repeating, “Redrum, redrum, redrum.” A woman that looked like a cross between a valium addicted suburban housewife and Olive Oyl clutched him to her chest (what there was of one) and tried to calm the child, “It’s all right, he’s gone… Your safe now baby.”
The barkeep shook his head and stepped closer, “Sorry boss, I don’t have all the ingredients… How about a Red Bull?” The bounty Hunter nodded, “That will be fine,” he gestured for the barkeep to come closer and leaned close and asked quietly, “what is the story with them?” The barkeep tilted his puffy head in their direction, “They had a harrowing experience at the old hotel up on the mountain, I can’t remember the name…” The wife walked over and sat a steaming platter of food in front of him, “The Outlook Hotel, it used to be a grand old place until a corporation bought and ran it into the ground.” The husband sat a frosty Red Bull on the counter and fished around for some silverware and a napkin down below, “And then they went and axed half of the staff!”
The kids head snapped around and he began looking around him in utter panic, “Axe!” His eyes were filled with terror, “Axe? Where? Here’s Johnny!” The woman tossed some coins on the table and began shepherding the boy toward the front door, “I think we better leave, sorry…” The last thing they heard as the two left was the boys trembling, “Little pigs, little pigs, let me in!” There was awkward moment of silence after the door closed, eventually the barkeep broke it with. “Shame about that kid,” he sighed, “he was such a nice boy.” The wife shook her head, “Indeed, I had just started to take a shining to him.” The pudgy fellow handed him a set of eating utensils, “Anyways enjoy!” The couple smiled and left him to eat his meal in peace, such as it was.”
After a sampling the O’Brien potatoes he smiled and began cutting up his sausages, feeling eyes upon him and looked to his left. A dwarf in a booster seat was eying him with an amused look upon his bearded face, “Red Matter, eh? I tried that concoction once… I think it formed a Black Hole in my liver!” To which he burst out laughing at his little joke. The Hunter joined in with the laughter and took the opportunity to begin asking questions about the Hotel and the local gossip. After a few hours of drinks and rowdy jokes the Dwarf wandered off leaving the Bounty Hunter with a wealth of information a few leads and a lighter purse. Pushing his empty platter away he felt full and sleepy; it was time for a bath and a nap. Unfortunately a stage was being set up at the far end of the hall, which was not a good sign. It must be karaoke night; Elves and their damned singing. And based upon the extremely large birds setting up the sound equipment it looked like it was going to be ‘Roc music’.
He cast his eyes about for the couple which ran the place, time to get a room. They stood not far away but the man was clutching about the stomach area and appeared in pain, his wife wore a look of concern. “The problem again dear?” He grimaced, “Aye, it is as if there is a tiny wizard in my bowels shouting ‘you shall not pass!’” The Hunter waved for them to come closer and reached into one of his saddlebags, “I think I have just the thing for you.” He handed the plugged up man a small bottle, the owner squinted at the small lettering on it, “El Paso?” The Hunter nodded, “A little something I picked up while I was down south.” The couple looked at him askance. He smiled lopsidedly, “Perhaps I could have worded that better… Anyways that should work well for you.” The man looked back at the bottle with both interest and a gleam of hope. The Hunter tilted his head and innocently asked, “How about you give that a try and if it works you, you defray the cost of my room and bath?” The owner nodded enthusiastically, “Done!” They shook on the arrangement.
Later that night he restlessly lay in his bed looking up at the ceiling with anguish on his freshly cleaned face. As retro music cheerfully skipped up the stairs, and bled around the room’s doorway to assault his ears and sensibilities. He groaned and rolled over pulling a pillow tightly around his head and still the singing and electronic wackata wackata leaked through-
Who’s the sultry Canadian
That’s a sex machine to all the aliens?
(SHAT!)
You’re damn right
Who is the man
That would risk his life for a Vulcan?
(SHAT!)
Can you dig it?
Who’s the Cap’n who won’t cop out
When there’s danger all about?
(SHAT!)
Right on
You see this cat Shat is a bad mother-
(Shut your mouth!)
But I’m talk’in about The Shat
(Then we can dig it)
He threw his pillow at the door in frustration, “Freaking Elves!” He gave up and stormed over to the door and cast a silence spell on it, when no more drunken singing could be heard he threw his exhausted and freshly exfoliated body onto the bed and fell fast asleep. He just hoped nobody broke into his room, with the silence spell on the door he would never hear them picking the lock. Fortunately it also meant none would be bothered by his loud snoring.
As he made his way through the Pines of Poria he spotted some of the alien looking pods the Dwarf had warned him about, and steered clear of them. He remembered what the fellow had said, “A dark wizards tower had been destroyed by Ents in retaliation for the destruction of a nearby forest. As revenge the wizard had conjured up pods and planted throughout all the surrounding forests as deadly traps.” The Dwarf took a long draw on his tankard, the Hunter inquired, “What do they do?” The Dwarf snorted and ran the back of his hand across his shaggy beard, “If an Ent goes near one it launches a foul and nasty creature onto it, I have never seen a live one. And hope to never see one, I don’t know if they are attracted to non tree folk but I’d rather not find out personally… If you know what I mean.”
He gestured for another ale to be poured for his friend, and turned back to the Dwarf, “What are they?” The Dwarfs face twisted with disgust, “Treehuggers!” He spat and continued, “They wrap around an Ent’s face and lay eggs deep inside the victims innards.” The Hunter’s face mirrored the disgust on the Dwarves’; they sat in silence for a moment and sipped their ale.
As he neared the end of forest he stopped his mount and stared in wonder at a large pile of furniture, it was water damaged from its exposure to the elements and covered with leaves, animal refuse and dirt. But there was no mistaking what it was, he shook his head in amazement. The second half of the Dwarves’ story must have been true after all…
He looked over the foam covering his golden ale, “What comes out of the eggs?” The Dwarf’s eyes narrowed, “A Dark Wizard’s mind must be a twisted thing indeed to come up with something so insidious.” He held up his left hand and spread his thumb and forefinger to about six inches, “Tiny little chainsaw wielding lumberjacks, who start cutting their way out slowly killing the Ent.” “Ouch,” muttered the Hunter. The Dwarf shook his head and held up another hand, “But that is only half of the eggs, there is still more.” He spread the thumb and forefinger of his right hand to the same dimension, “Teeny little Amish Craftsmen also hatch.” The Hunter scowled, “What do they do?” The Dwarf’s laughter blew suds from his tankard, “Why they make the Ent’s carcass into furniture of course!”
“That is absurd,” the Hunter contended, “you are blowing smoke up my ass!” The Dwarf smacked the counter and protested, “I swear it is true, it has gone on for over a hundred years in these parts.” He pointed at the darkly dressed man with a stubby finger, “And you must confess that it is cunningly efficient in a morose sort of way.” He looked at the stocky little fellow with doubt, “Really, and how it that?” The fireplug shaped man wiped foam from his beard, “Think about it, he was able to exact revenge, humiliate them, desecrate their bodies…and; furnish his new tower all at the same time.” The Hunter sighed and rolled his eyes while reaching for some peanuts from the bowl they shared. “Of course,” the Dwarf continued, “that was a long time ago. Now the stuff just sits and rots in the forests…” The Hunter looked puzzled, “Nobody makes use of it?” The powerful little man shook his head vigorously, “Not even as firewood, anything created by dark magic is bound to be cursed.” He popped a salty peanut in his mouth, “A shame.” The Dwarf looked sad, “Aye, I could use a nice armoire.”
The Outlook Hotel, it was impressive in size, colorful, pleasing to the eye and ornate. It clearly had been added onto over the decades, while the basic theme had been kept the same the additions did not quite match up to one another because styles change over time. Still, it was a breathtaking site even to the most jaded traveler. Now then where was that new annex the Dwarf had mentioned? He spurred his mount in the direction of the loading docks to the rear of the Hotel; surely the owners would not want couriers to be seen by the guests of the Hotel. The Dwarf had said that in order to keep the Hotel afloat the Drug Company which had purchased it added a delivery service to the property in order to bring in extra revenue. It made sense, the Hotel was in between three major cities, and it made a perfect distribution hub. Perhaps they were going to be delivering something of great value, something that would attract a thief that could change his appearance?
Beyond the Hotels loading dock and employee parking area lay a new building with warehouses and rows of loading bays, that must be it. As he drew closer the trees no longer shrouded the large sign out front which read, The Outlook Express. As he hitched his horse to a nearby tree, he watched the employees in green jumpsuits loading Vista’s famous virility drug ‘MicroStiff’ into graphite colored delivery trucks. It was far more popular than their previous incontinence drug ‘ExPee’. Hmmm, so it also doubled as a distribution hub for their own products as well as that of other clients, clever. He entered the managers office and spoke to the receptionist, “Where can I find,” he picked the name plate up off of the managers desk and read it aloud, “Forrest?” The be speckled and gum chewing wench never stopped talking on her phone, she just stabbed a pen in the direction of the nearby warehouse. The Bounty Hunter strode by her and loosened the Velcro safety strap on his shoulder holster, he was here; Falos was here. He could feel him, which was what made him such a good bounty hunter, his instincts and his senses.
He found the manager a short time latter checking schedules and inventory sheets, “Hey buddy seen anybody that looks like this fellow?” He held up a picture of Falos, it was a long shot but maybe it takes a lot of concentration to maintain a form. The manager seemed tongue tied and nervous, which could be a good sign. He pressed further, “The guy can change his appearance, so he could have taken the identity of one of your staff. Anyone acting out of character?” This really flustered the man, but it was as if he could not talk. The Hunter grabbed the mans arm in frustration, “What’s the deal fella?” When the manager struggled his sleeve rode up and exposed a bracelet on his wrist, the bounty hunter recognized it as a ‘charmed bracelet’. He smiled, that explained the man’s behavior. The spell not only makes the wearer obey the person who placed it on him, but it prevents the wearer from being able to willingly betray the giver.
The Hunter’s eyes scanned the busy floor of the warehouse; they all looked so similar in their jumpsuits, safety glasses and hard hats. While they continued working despite his little interruption no one seemed to be avoiding eye contact with him, how to ferret him out? Maybe he could trigger a change in Falos’ appearance by distracting him or causing him to lose his concentration. He pulled the manager along with him pretending to talk with him as if they were having a regular conversation, talking louder than necessary so the employees could hear them over the ambient noise of the workplace. They weaved through the foot traffic and forklifts, most of the cargo haulers merely seemed annoyed by their presence in the workers arena, no fear or seething malevolence. Then he spied a worker that seemed to be constantly keeping his back to the man hunter no matter where the pair moved to within the warehouse. He also had his shirt collar up, obviously an old habit left over from before he could change his appearance through magic. The bounty hunter shoved the manager away from him and continued his fake conversation as he steadily moved closer to the worker with his back to him. “So tell me, do you deliver any goods that might be considered; precious?” The worker with his back to him flinched at the word and began scratching nervously. “Ah yes, it must be nice to be entrusted with so many precious items.” The man shook slightly and raised a hand, it was a sickly grey and misshapen. He slapped the back of it as if to scold it, it began to change back to normal.
The Hunter continued his slow advance, “Items like… say, rings!” The man tensed, his fists clenched. “I had many rings once, but only one true ring. It was precious to me.” He could hear a raspy ‘my precioussssssss’ coming from the man, it was working. “One ring to rule them all.” The man whirled in his direction, his face grey and distorted with huge black eyes, “Return my precious to me!” He faltered and tried to regain his composure, rubbing his face with his hands. When he finally removed his hands a handsome face was there once more, it looked at him with grudging respect. He smiled, “Nice work you pesky errand boy, you usually just start beating people up and shoot things.”
The bounty hunter ignored the remark, “Falos, come quietly. It makes things easier.” The thief sneered, “Dingo you know that will never happen, this dance is far from over.” He threw down a smoke pellet and disappeared behind the swirling cloud, Dingo snarled and drew one of his weapons, “Damn it!” He chased after the criminal as the rest of the workers scattered and fled the building; he caught a glimpse of Falos darting into an adjoining warehouse. When he entered it was dark, he tried the switches on the wall but all they did was make noise. Figures, he must have throw the breakers. And only he knows where they are, bastard! The only light was coming through the skylights, and they only illuminated the aisles between the two story high metal shelves filled with pallets of crates. A voice from up high and in the darkness taunted him, “Where is the film crew Dingo?” Dingo only growled low aimed his pistol in general direction of the voice. “Ooooh, I must have struck a nerve,” the voice had moved to another area, “let me guess, the network cancelled your show after the little incident down south?” Dingo snarled, “Frak you Falos!” And started firing pellets up into the rafters, clouds of red pepper began to swirl in the air above. That should flush him out, as he began to feed a fresh clip into pistol a dart struck the back of his hand. Damn it! He quickly pulled it out, but the toxin was already making his right hand numb.
Falos addressed him from atop a stack of crates 50 yards away, “Why the sudden interest Dingo? You could have caught a dozen far easier law breakers in the time you have spent pursuing me, and be on vacation by now.” He could no longer hold the pistol and let it hit the floor, he looked at Falos. “Just give me the tooth damn it! That is all they really want, give me the tooth and I’ll stop chasing you!”
Falos’ features began to change and his hairline began to recede, “The tooth?!” His face was now a very familiar one, “You want the tooth?!” His clothes had changed into a green military dress uniform, “YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TOOTH!!!” Dingo snarled and drew another pistol with his left hand, “God I hate that frakkin movie!” Jacketed 9mm slugs flew in Falos’ direction, he turned and sprinted. As the corrugated steel wall behind the criminal became as perforated as a Florida State ballot Dingo kept screaming, “Frak you and that Dianetic spewing pretty boy! Dianetics, jeez… And Frak Battlefield Earth too!” Falos stayed just ahead of the hail of bullets and dove through a window.
Dingo howled in anger and ran toward the nearest door facing the direction of Falos’ escape, he did not even bother to see if it was unlocked. He smashed through it an into the sunlight courtyard which served as the employee lunch area, he saw the smashed umbrella first. Then he saw employees looking at the retreating back of Falos’ uniform as it disappeared through an archway leading to the parking lot. Dingo howled at the people to get out of his way and ran across the table tops in pursuit of his prey, food drinks and startled people flew into the air as he ran after Nicholson’s quickly fleeing uniform.
He skidded to halt in a sea of poorly maintained rice burners and glorified golf carts, behind a desert sand mica minivan Dingo could hear, “There is no place like Rome!” Dingo sprinted toward the familiar voice, again he heard. “There is no place like Rome.” He was almost there, “There.” He could now read the ‘If this van is a rock’in call the police because it aint me inside’ bumper sticker, “is.” He was to the trailer hitch with a tacky ballsack hanging from it, “no place.” He was rounding the taped over broken taillight, “like.” He could see him and reached for the felon wearing ruby Nikes, Rome.” He shimmered out of existence and Dingo’s hand passed through him.
He leaned against a faded dog poo brown Honda to try and rest and catch his breath, the alarm went off startling Dingo. He shot it three times and the alarm warbled and died, he rested against it again and sighed, “Well I guess I am going to Rome…”
The Next Episode is-
The Duh Vincent Code
Or
Angels and Scheming’s
Oh my! I feel so…um…hrm…honored?
Thanx Omra. I’ve copied this to my blackenberrry and I’ll read on the way home. Comments to follow.
Omra, you have a true gift for parody. Well done. You could work for Abrahams and the Zucker bros. Love all the references, especially The Shining, Red Matter, El Paso (down south bwhahahaha!), and A Few Good Men (You can’t handle the tooth!). I absolutely lost it at the Aliens Treehuggers reference. Here’s a little gift.
Thank you for the gift.
And glad you enjoyed the story!