Arrgggg—my head is killing me. What happened? Oh. Yeah, I was sitting across from the hefty (yet lovely) Svetlana. I may have been staring at her Bresticles. I mean Breast… Anyway, Wheelchair Guy was babbling on about something.
“Blah, blah, blah. …looks like we are Evil Eye Candy. Blah, blah.”
Suddenly, the buxom chest I was staring at heaved excitedly and Svet said something about voting for a team leader. Well that brought me to attention. That Svet…she really knows how to get a guy going. Unfortunately, Mr. Hot Wheels jumps in saying, “I don’t think that’s…blah, blah.” He is obviously threatened by me. I am superior in looks and leadership skills. Everyone knows it.
We avoided more blahs from Hot Wheels, when Jon’s announcement came about our new team name-—Poke*my*bootie---Now that brings back memories…(clears throat) Masculine memories of course...Well I digress... After I voiced my opinion about our new name, my mind wandered from the conversation again… ”blah, blah, blah.”_______
Suddenly there was complete silence. I looked up to find Hot Wheels staring at me. I had to think quickly so he wouldn’t know I had been daydreaming, so I said the first thing that came to my mind.
“I’m doing the memorabilia.” As soon as it was out of my mouth, I could have slapped myself. I couldn’t have said anything more random if I announced that I was wearing panties…which, by the way, I’m not! Luckily, the old fart bought it. He nodded his head, and everyone began to talk again. A few minutes later everyone was speeding out to do their tasks.
I yelled after them, “Wait for me! I need directions to Fire Island 9!”
As I ran toward the door, some smart @#$ slammed the door on me. It wouldn’t have been so bad, if my head weren’t slightly larger than the rest of my body. The door swinging in like that WHACKED my head and knocked me flat on my back. Well of all the nerve. I hope I wasn’t unconscious for long. It seems like I remember Hot Wheels saying something about speed, so I rushed on to find a flipping hover bike.
As I exited our camp, it was already becoming dark. Fortunately, there was more than one moon above and it provided some light… (At least I think there were multiple moons; my vision might be off due to injury.) My first problem was finding decent directions. I wandered into a nearby tavern and approached the bartender.
“Hello. I need directions to Fire Island 9. Do you think you can help me out?”
“Fire Island 9 is hard to find. You need pilot to help you?”
“No. I don’t need a pilot. I need directions.”
To this statement, he just huffed. “Go to back of bar. Someone come see you.”
I made my way to the back and was disappointed to find that no one was there. God I’m running late, and I need to finish this task today. I turned to leave, and I was distracted by a gift from God. I swore to myself that if I weren’t having a psychotic episode brought on by my earlier injury, that I would change my life and renounce my own ambition... Ahhhh... The perfect woman was walking toward me.
“Hello. My name is Saka. I heard you need help getting to Fire Island 9.”
“Hmmm. Oh. Yes. Breast Fire 9. I mean Fire Island 9. I need directions there. I need Jon memorabilia.”
“Jon you say. The Intergalactic Gladiator? We had a moment once...Would you look at my face please? You know I get this crap a lot from human men. Look, I might be willing to let you take a closer look if you will help me out with a fantasy I have. I'll even give you some of my special Clackmilk to relax you. If you make me happy, I will not only give you directions, I will make sure someone is at the door waiting for you with a piece of memorabilia.”
“I haven’t told you what I want yet.”
Ten minutes later. I had to express some concern.
“Are you sure about this? I feel like an idiot; and what is in this milk? I feel a little dizzy."
Six hours later…I regained consciousness. I was holding a lock of blond hair in my hand, with a note attached. “Saka, told me to give you this lock of Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator’s hair. She didn’t tell me you would be drunk off Clakmilk. You owe me $1000 bars of Gold Pressed Latium for crashing your hover bike through the window. If you weren’t Saka’s special friend, I would have given you some of his poop. I dipped it out of the toilet myself.” With a huff, he turned and stalked away.
I guess I should count myself lucky. I pulled the hover bike out of the window; and as luck would have it, the engine started up. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get any real speed out of it. It took me another five hours to get back to the team. It was almost 3 am. NY time. I’m not surprised that I was the last to arrive. I wish I could give you more details about getting from point A to point B, but between my concussion after the team meeting and the clakmilk, I don’t remember a thing. I did go back to the bar to find Saka, but no one could tell me where she was. I was beginning to think I had imagined her, but then, I looked up and saw this billboard. I knew Saka had to be a model.
So…Do we have immunity or what? How about some aspirin? Maybe a towel for this strange blue stuff under my armpit? Guys?......Guys?