Monday, November 10, 2008

This is d-feat?

"This sucks!" complains Henchy. "I'm sick of nothing happening. I'm sick of waiting. You're supposed to be the big genius. Time to start coming up with the solutions."
Henchy's yellow gloved finger pointing straight at me accusing me.
"Yeah you are right." I tell him. Lets get out of my hidden lair where its safe and we wont get killed by deadly synthoids. Lets storm the Australian capital, retake the country, expose the conspiritors to the public, deactivate the telepathic signal thats got the entire population in thrall." I pause for sarcastic effect. "We already tried that two months ago. We released all the meta-humans out of Olympus. It did sweet f%$^ all. The escapees were either re-captured, went to ground, or left the country. I got the rest of us back here where they can't find us. Then what happened? They found and destroyed the sattelite array I use to teleport. So we're stuck here."

"Oh yeah I forgot." appologised Henchy. "You got anymore beer?"
I told Henchy where the beer was and he left to get it. He didn't come back.

Galdys came by. You remember her, she's the old lady who met us in that elevator in Brisbane. She clears the pile of beer cans that Henchy left behind, her arm stretches out in front of my line of sight. She's got a tattoo. Its a barcode.
"Where did you get a tattoo like that." I asked.
"Oh that. Rebellious teenager." she tells me and continues on her way.

I sat there trying to work out what went wrong but all I colud think about was Galdys' barcode tattoo.
It must have been the beer slowing down my thinking because it suddenly dawned on me. It couldn't have been there always cause the ink was dark not faded as a 40 year old tattoo looks like on a 60 year olds skin. It really must have been the beer cause barcodes weren't common 40 years ago. I get up and find Galdys in the kitchen washing dishes.
"Lucy you've some 'splaining to do." I utter in my worst Cuban accent.
"Umm are you talking to me?" replies Galdys.
"Your not 60 years old are you?" I accuse. "You'd know that line, you'd know Lucille Ball."
Galdys' face doesn't register to the name. So I continue.
"Elizabeth Taylor, Judy Garland, The Wizard of Oz, The Sound of Music, Julie Andrews. Elvis, Hank Williams, The Beatles, Rolling Stones, Cliff Richard. Stop me when you know the name of the artist." I tell her. "Diana Ross, Marvin Gaye, David Bowie, Elton John, Bruce Springsteen, George Micheal, Micheal Jackson, Australian Crawl, Dexi's Midnight Runners, Phill Collins, U2, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Madona, Brittany Spears." I stop. Gladys is still just smiling.
"That was a lot of names. You know them all?" she asks innocently. She puts her hands back in the sink to continue washing the dishes. I go to grab her hands to get her attention again and the water is scalding hot.
"Aaaaaaargh." I scream. I cradle my burned hand. Galdys quickly turns the cold water on she takes my hand puts it under the cooling water. He concern is only for my hand.
"Stay there I'll get Fortuna. She'll fix it for you." smiles Galdys. "You just keep your hand in the cold water."

This old lady's not an old lady. Of that I'm quite sure.


Wolverine said...

ya ain't goin' from roboot women ta old lady clones are ya?

Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator said...

You're right!

That was an awful Cuban accent.

captain koma said...

no I'm not. I'm sticking with Chroma as my prefered bundle of lust.

Henchman432 said...

It's a man,...Man.