zesty_pinto (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
zesty_pinto) wrote2002-12-15 02:36 pm
zesty_pinto) wrote2002-12-15 02:36 pm
"Another Random Turn of Events"
Why not do a guy and his beer can?
I can think of many ways one could take that..
Unfortunately, most of them are sexual. [Lonesome Sock]
There’s something special about the history of alcohol. Created from as early in civilization as the Babylonians, even most primitive tribal civilizations have invented their own form of the “fire water” as the Amerindians preferred to call it. In the modern world, we view it in many forms and flavors, for different times and different occasions, for different genders and different races.
The story I am about to tell you involves a general type of malt liquor, the ale, which is now referred to as “beer.” You can very likely find it in any liquor shop, any supermarket, and even the local deli. There’s a sort of mundane reality that comes with the normal beer can. This is about a beer can, a mundane thing, and the man who loved it.
Oh, you may find that this is some attempted metaphor of beer cans and the opposite sex, or that this is supposed to be some sort of story about a man’s addiction. If you find it then you may be right, though you are just more likely to have a sort of perverted mind that thinks too much into stories. This is not a true story, a metaphor, or some sort of strange story with a plot that is supposed to promote nihilism, capitalism, awareness, or the foundation of a new Republic. Okay? None of that! NONE!
Got that? Good. Anyway…
Matthew Daley was no ordinary man. He worked at a record store doing work he hated to earn his slave labor pay, lived with his parents in their basement where they constantly pestered him about doing something with his life, and dated a girl that liked him since he listened and did not much else. Did you get that? Good, then you know that I was lying. He was actually a very, very, normal person with a very very normal life.
This was a normal day for him where he lived his normal work at the normal record store. The usual scanning of CDs, the scanning of customers as they passed by into and out of the shop, and the usual yawn at 10:20 from the usual sleeping late at the usual time of 3:10AM. By 12:10 he gave the usual notice to his usual boss that he was going to lunch. He ate his usual burger with fries… and then he noticed there was ketchup for his fries.
It was not usual of him to have fries… with ketchup. It took him awhile to realize that the usual fry in his fingers, sopping with the heavy grease of industrialized consumption on it had been coated in heavy red tomato flavor. When he did though, it seemed usual enough.
That was until he realized the ninjas came.
The shattering glass from overhead broke from the skyline window as a horde of figures garbed in black fell from the sky with their silent skill. Before he knew it, they had cornered him in the food court around the bewildered audience among him, they threw something to the ground and smoke soon began to fill his vision and a sharp pain took him down before he could feel the senses escape him before he hit the floor.
“On your feet.”
By the time he came to at the unusual time of… well I couldn’t tell you since I didn’t have a watch at the time, but I could tell you that it was a time that could not be told underneath the fifty story basement of the evil genius mastermind Dr. Savotagianagrotelokenapolianstein the XXXII, for while deep in his heavily fortified defenses underneath the ground and powered by geothermal energy and the heavy capitalistic sales of tourist goods, there was no need for the concept of time, for he ruled it all.
His eyes slowly opened, with his legs moving with him, tired and still dressed in his usual form except with unusual sweat marks and bloodstains over the shirt and his name tag that brightly displayed that he was a worker for a record store to serve for your pleasure. It felt like he had been walking for so long that… well actually, his legs were spiffy. Still, walking through the dimly lit halls of concrete and lamps while guards stood by walls armed with automatic weapons just felt leery to anyone.
By the time he was forced to stop with the sharp sensation of a bayonet on his back, he stopped himself, and realized that he was sent to what best looked like a questioning room, dark and heavy with the look of heavy use, and dark stains that faintly echoed to his eyes against the dark with what could only be conceived of as blood. When he sat down into the wooden stool he was told to sit into, his eyes started to catch into the vision of a large musclebound humanoid. He may have been thought of as a person, if his face wasn’t covered with scars and an eye patch that bound his right eye.
“So…” he said with a grunting dark voice that almost bound his legs with a wetting sensation “-we finally have you within our grasp.”
He would have nodded, he could have tried to say something that would have sounded really cool if displayed to an audience of thirty people armed with popcorn and soda in a darkened room for their viewing pleasure, but he just did what you or I would have done if you were stuck in a small room with a very large, very scarred, and very very scary man.
He wet his pants.
“Now, have you nothing to say? You have stopped the good doctor from ruling the world with our I.C.B.M’s, the space laser satellites, the retrovirus that could have killed billions, the undersea base that could start earthquakes along the tectonic plates of the Earth, the giant fighting robots with rocket fists, the-“
we will continue this part of the story when it gets to a more convenient time. Whoever he thought this guy was, this guy obviously foiled a lot of plots, most of them within 90 minutes of time, usually with non-stop action and cool gadgets. But, since this story is nothing about all that cool stuff, we’ll continue when he is done. While doing this, please feel free to stretch a bit. If you are reading this at the comfort of your home, then please get a nice tea or coffee and some cake. Maybe see the late news and take a nap. Or-
Oh wait, never mind.
“-and even that blasted plot when we were planning to clone teletubbies using the genetic information from Area 51’s alien genetic tissue. What do you have to say?”
“Uhh…” Yeah, his pants were pretty much wet and you’d feel braver if you were bored to death from listening to a list of things that were done that you’ve never heard of or cared about.
“’Uhh…?’”
“…I think… you have the wrong man.”
The large man pulled his head back to laugh. A very deep, dark, treacherous laugh. “You must have a better plan to get out of this than to bluff me with such a pathetic line…? No gadgets, no radio for help?” He laughed again, but quickly it pulled away back into that dark sneer in a switch “So be it. No traps for you today. Instead, you will stay in this room…” he paused for a bit to curl the edge of his lip to smile “-forever.” He clapped his hands and he found arms wrapping around him, and leather bands bounding him, pulling him into the wooden stool he once sat in, now his own sort of prison. Soon he watched the guards eventually go in a rushed march into the doorway, now a lighted gateway in contrast to the now-dark room, almost a complete hole of shadows save the single lighted gap that pierced into the room… and the man.
“Enjoy the darkness… for the rest of your life!” The door slid closed, and his eyes only saw the shadow.
During this time, he started to collect his thoughts. Here was a normal guy who worked a normal life in a normal job that was for normal reasons. Suddenly, he was now someone suspected to be a secret agent of some sort and trapped in one of those deathly situations that would kill normal men. The question though was… why? He never dressed flagrantly, went to fancy restaurants or traveled to exotic places to meet beautiful women in suits that cost a few hundred and sports cars that cost a few hundred thousand. He never really did do anything that seemed different. What did he do that changed everything?
This was when he remembered the time when he was in the food court, and remembered the ketchup. He never ate fries with ketchup, he felt it tampered with the flavor. He even liked it, and that sort of thought scared him. He was changing, and things were changing terribly fast. It couldn’t have started with simply the ketchup, though… He thought harder.
Before he went to lunch, he actually thought about his boss and asked her how her day was. Before that, he inspected the merchandise outside before he sorted the stocks, something that he never did until he was done with at least cleaning the floor. He took the path to work that was quicker to get there rather than the scenic route that overlooked the early sunbathers and jogging chicks that he liked to ogle as he made his way to work, because he had a breakfast at the diner instead of eating Cocoa Puffs. He took a shower instead of jumping out of bed to get into his slackers for Monday, which he usually wore on Sunday, because he slept in in his slackers, because he drank so much as he usually did (that at least seemed normal) because he drank an extra beer in his fridge as always and placed it in the trash but instead-
He soon heard the door open and his eyes started to push back, the brightness abrading against his eyes, telling him that he had been in thought for a long time. What his eyes could see came in a lithe figure that melted down towards him, edging with a sort of watery flow that was like something inhuman, but inhuman in the same way that a fox seemed inhuman when one watched its graceful form pause and move, quietly, silently, in one true motion.
She came and immediately he felt the warm arms hold him and embrace his sore body, with a passion he never expected people to have except in romance movies that most people would call chick flicks “My love…” she hissed into his ears “How long I had hoped to catch you again. It feels like forever since… that night,” there was a purring that emanated through her throat, and he could feel her rumble into his chest, erotic and sensual with all the confidence and knowledge of someone who knew how to seduce men. A sudden heat took him between his legs, but then she stopped and looked at him “Have you planned your escape yet, darling?” His arms felt lighter and he tested himself; he was free from his leather bonds.
“I already have. Twenty million in stolen print from their stuffed animal accounts. We can buy our own island and live the rest of our lives in seclusion. Mmmm, I can tell you are quite happy about it… or is it just me?” He could see the glint of her smile as his eyes slowly began to adjust, white and perfect, with a gleam like pearl.” She took his hand and pulled him up “A pity they didn’t tear at your clothes, I would have much liked it.” She guided him “I drugged the guards. Now, come on.”
He accepted and followed her through the metal doorway, past what he could see as several men in bulletproof vests and automatic weapons lay on the floor. She knelt down to toss him the weapon, hard into him, which he took with a surprised expression. She smiled her sensual smile again to him as though she was hinting that it was something she wanted to try later at some other time, and he couldn’t help but blush at the thought of it. Who wouldn’t if you had to live with some undersexed life with a girl that only spent her time with you to talk about how she brushed her hair fifty times over and then suddenly have a woman that looked like she should have been a Victoria’s Secret’s model fall all over you? Seriously, I mean, wow!
They continued through the halls, through the military facilities, the research center, the armed security complex… and then they stopped at the loading bay where there were several large tubes that would take one from the complex to the very covered up area where the huge base was located under. She edged him closer, and they went to take a very fast trip to the top floor from the first floor at record speed for only ten feet of distance.
“Hurry, this way!” He tugged at him to follow him out of the store. It was lunchtime and he wondered how all this time that a fifty floor secret complex underneath the earth was actually connected to the gift shop that was on the first floor of the mall that his store was in.
“One moment,” he said, and she nodded as he ran up, past the people walking by and the food court that now was adorned with a yellow plastic caution line from where he was taken. When he made it to the record store, he saw me there, dressed with my expensive suit and secret gadgets hidden into my clothes. Pinned on my suit was his name tag, and as he was looking at me, I soon noticed a would-be delinquent shoplifter. Instincts alone told me that tact was not an issue and I drew my sleek 9mm Walther on the boy, forcing him to freeze in his tracks and hundreds of CDs fell out of his jacket. From the reaction I gave his boss who seemed eternally grateful from it, I imagine that he thought his work was done. He hurried back down to meet her at the parking lot, where she waited for him in a sleek red convertible and they drove to his house, where he rushed up, listened to his mom ask him what the hell he had been doing for the past week, listened to his dad credit him for finding something to do with his life, and then reached up to snatch the leftover beer can that had been left on the couch and was about to toss it into the trash… but then instead put it in his pocket and went off with the woman to live many sexy and entertaining adventures.
Meanwhile, in the next five days, I soon became branch director of the Collen’s Music. Soon in another two months, I became head of Director’s for the U.S. of Collen’s Music. All my talents as a secret agent were never as useful as my secret knowledge of actually being a talented and powerful director in the music sales industry. Currently Collen’s Music now makes five hundred million as we speak and I have never felt so happy selling to the consumer rather than saving the world from unspeakable perils by the skin of my teeth and all of it thanks to the ex-bartender that served me a beer instead of that martini. And ever since, I have lived happily ever after.
I can think of many ways one could take that..
Unfortunately, most of them are sexual. [Lonesome Sock]
There’s something special about the history of alcohol. Created from as early in civilization as the Babylonians, even most primitive tribal civilizations have invented their own form of the “fire water” as the Amerindians preferred to call it. In the modern world, we view it in many forms and flavors, for different times and different occasions, for different genders and different races.
The story I am about to tell you involves a general type of malt liquor, the ale, which is now referred to as “beer.” You can very likely find it in any liquor shop, any supermarket, and even the local deli. There’s a sort of mundane reality that comes with the normal beer can. This is about a beer can, a mundane thing, and the man who loved it.
Oh, you may find that this is some attempted metaphor of beer cans and the opposite sex, or that this is supposed to be some sort of story about a man’s addiction. If you find it then you may be right, though you are just more likely to have a sort of perverted mind that thinks too much into stories. This is not a true story, a metaphor, or some sort of strange story with a plot that is supposed to promote nihilism, capitalism, awareness, or the foundation of a new Republic. Okay? None of that! NONE!
Got that? Good. Anyway…
Matthew Daley was no ordinary man. He worked at a record store doing work he hated to earn his slave labor pay, lived with his parents in their basement where they constantly pestered him about doing something with his life, and dated a girl that liked him since he listened and did not much else. Did you get that? Good, then you know that I was lying. He was actually a very, very, normal person with a very very normal life.
This was a normal day for him where he lived his normal work at the normal record store. The usual scanning of CDs, the scanning of customers as they passed by into and out of the shop, and the usual yawn at 10:20 from the usual sleeping late at the usual time of 3:10AM. By 12:10 he gave the usual notice to his usual boss that he was going to lunch. He ate his usual burger with fries… and then he noticed there was ketchup for his fries.
It was not usual of him to have fries… with ketchup. It took him awhile to realize that the usual fry in his fingers, sopping with the heavy grease of industrialized consumption on it had been coated in heavy red tomato flavor. When he did though, it seemed usual enough.
That was until he realized the ninjas came.
The shattering glass from overhead broke from the skyline window as a horde of figures garbed in black fell from the sky with their silent skill. Before he knew it, they had cornered him in the food court around the bewildered audience among him, they threw something to the ground and smoke soon began to fill his vision and a sharp pain took him down before he could feel the senses escape him before he hit the floor.
“On your feet.”
By the time he came to at the unusual time of… well I couldn’t tell you since I didn’t have a watch at the time, but I could tell you that it was a time that could not be told underneath the fifty story basement of the evil genius mastermind Dr. Savotagianagrotelokenapolianstein the XXXII, for while deep in his heavily fortified defenses underneath the ground and powered by geothermal energy and the heavy capitalistic sales of tourist goods, there was no need for the concept of time, for he ruled it all.
His eyes slowly opened, with his legs moving with him, tired and still dressed in his usual form except with unusual sweat marks and bloodstains over the shirt and his name tag that brightly displayed that he was a worker for a record store to serve for your pleasure. It felt like he had been walking for so long that… well actually, his legs were spiffy. Still, walking through the dimly lit halls of concrete and lamps while guards stood by walls armed with automatic weapons just felt leery to anyone.
By the time he was forced to stop with the sharp sensation of a bayonet on his back, he stopped himself, and realized that he was sent to what best looked like a questioning room, dark and heavy with the look of heavy use, and dark stains that faintly echoed to his eyes against the dark with what could only be conceived of as blood. When he sat down into the wooden stool he was told to sit into, his eyes started to catch into the vision of a large musclebound humanoid. He may have been thought of as a person, if his face wasn’t covered with scars and an eye patch that bound his right eye.
“So…” he said with a grunting dark voice that almost bound his legs with a wetting sensation “-we finally have you within our grasp.”
He would have nodded, he could have tried to say something that would have sounded really cool if displayed to an audience of thirty people armed with popcorn and soda in a darkened room for their viewing pleasure, but he just did what you or I would have done if you were stuck in a small room with a very large, very scarred, and very very scary man.
He wet his pants.
“Now, have you nothing to say? You have stopped the good doctor from ruling the world with our I.C.B.M’s, the space laser satellites, the retrovirus that could have killed billions, the undersea base that could start earthquakes along the tectonic plates of the Earth, the giant fighting robots with rocket fists, the-“
we will continue this part of the story when it gets to a more convenient time. Whoever he thought this guy was, this guy obviously foiled a lot of plots, most of them within 90 minutes of time, usually with non-stop action and cool gadgets. But, since this story is nothing about all that cool stuff, we’ll continue when he is done. While doing this, please feel free to stretch a bit. If you are reading this at the comfort of your home, then please get a nice tea or coffee and some cake. Maybe see the late news and take a nap. Or-
Oh wait, never mind.
“-and even that blasted plot when we were planning to clone teletubbies using the genetic information from Area 51’s alien genetic tissue. What do you have to say?”
“Uhh…” Yeah, his pants were pretty much wet and you’d feel braver if you were bored to death from listening to a list of things that were done that you’ve never heard of or cared about.
“’Uhh…?’”
“…I think… you have the wrong man.”
The large man pulled his head back to laugh. A very deep, dark, treacherous laugh. “You must have a better plan to get out of this than to bluff me with such a pathetic line…? No gadgets, no radio for help?” He laughed again, but quickly it pulled away back into that dark sneer in a switch “So be it. No traps for you today. Instead, you will stay in this room…” he paused for a bit to curl the edge of his lip to smile “-forever.” He clapped his hands and he found arms wrapping around him, and leather bands bounding him, pulling him into the wooden stool he once sat in, now his own sort of prison. Soon he watched the guards eventually go in a rushed march into the doorway, now a lighted gateway in contrast to the now-dark room, almost a complete hole of shadows save the single lighted gap that pierced into the room… and the man.
“Enjoy the darkness… for the rest of your life!” The door slid closed, and his eyes only saw the shadow.
During this time, he started to collect his thoughts. Here was a normal guy who worked a normal life in a normal job that was for normal reasons. Suddenly, he was now someone suspected to be a secret agent of some sort and trapped in one of those deathly situations that would kill normal men. The question though was… why? He never dressed flagrantly, went to fancy restaurants or traveled to exotic places to meet beautiful women in suits that cost a few hundred and sports cars that cost a few hundred thousand. He never really did do anything that seemed different. What did he do that changed everything?
This was when he remembered the time when he was in the food court, and remembered the ketchup. He never ate fries with ketchup, he felt it tampered with the flavor. He even liked it, and that sort of thought scared him. He was changing, and things were changing terribly fast. It couldn’t have started with simply the ketchup, though… He thought harder.
Before he went to lunch, he actually thought about his boss and asked her how her day was. Before that, he inspected the merchandise outside before he sorted the stocks, something that he never did until he was done with at least cleaning the floor. He took the path to work that was quicker to get there rather than the scenic route that overlooked the early sunbathers and jogging chicks that he liked to ogle as he made his way to work, because he had a breakfast at the diner instead of eating Cocoa Puffs. He took a shower instead of jumping out of bed to get into his slackers for Monday, which he usually wore on Sunday, because he slept in in his slackers, because he drank so much as he usually did (that at least seemed normal) because he drank an extra beer in his fridge as always and placed it in the trash but instead-
He soon heard the door open and his eyes started to push back, the brightness abrading against his eyes, telling him that he had been in thought for a long time. What his eyes could see came in a lithe figure that melted down towards him, edging with a sort of watery flow that was like something inhuman, but inhuman in the same way that a fox seemed inhuman when one watched its graceful form pause and move, quietly, silently, in one true motion.
She came and immediately he felt the warm arms hold him and embrace his sore body, with a passion he never expected people to have except in romance movies that most people would call chick flicks “My love…” she hissed into his ears “How long I had hoped to catch you again. It feels like forever since… that night,” there was a purring that emanated through her throat, and he could feel her rumble into his chest, erotic and sensual with all the confidence and knowledge of someone who knew how to seduce men. A sudden heat took him between his legs, but then she stopped and looked at him “Have you planned your escape yet, darling?” His arms felt lighter and he tested himself; he was free from his leather bonds.
“I already have. Twenty million in stolen print from their stuffed animal accounts. We can buy our own island and live the rest of our lives in seclusion. Mmmm, I can tell you are quite happy about it… or is it just me?” He could see the glint of her smile as his eyes slowly began to adjust, white and perfect, with a gleam like pearl.” She took his hand and pulled him up “A pity they didn’t tear at your clothes, I would have much liked it.” She guided him “I drugged the guards. Now, come on.”
He accepted and followed her through the metal doorway, past what he could see as several men in bulletproof vests and automatic weapons lay on the floor. She knelt down to toss him the weapon, hard into him, which he took with a surprised expression. She smiled her sensual smile again to him as though she was hinting that it was something she wanted to try later at some other time, and he couldn’t help but blush at the thought of it. Who wouldn’t if you had to live with some undersexed life with a girl that only spent her time with you to talk about how she brushed her hair fifty times over and then suddenly have a woman that looked like she should have been a Victoria’s Secret’s model fall all over you? Seriously, I mean, wow!
They continued through the halls, through the military facilities, the research center, the armed security complex… and then they stopped at the loading bay where there were several large tubes that would take one from the complex to the very covered up area where the huge base was located under. She edged him closer, and they went to take a very fast trip to the top floor from the first floor at record speed for only ten feet of distance.
“Hurry, this way!” He tugged at him to follow him out of the store. It was lunchtime and he wondered how all this time that a fifty floor secret complex underneath the earth was actually connected to the gift shop that was on the first floor of the mall that his store was in.
“One moment,” he said, and she nodded as he ran up, past the people walking by and the food court that now was adorned with a yellow plastic caution line from where he was taken. When he made it to the record store, he saw me there, dressed with my expensive suit and secret gadgets hidden into my clothes. Pinned on my suit was his name tag, and as he was looking at me, I soon noticed a would-be delinquent shoplifter. Instincts alone told me that tact was not an issue and I drew my sleek 9mm Walther on the boy, forcing him to freeze in his tracks and hundreds of CDs fell out of his jacket. From the reaction I gave his boss who seemed eternally grateful from it, I imagine that he thought his work was done. He hurried back down to meet her at the parking lot, where she waited for him in a sleek red convertible and they drove to his house, where he rushed up, listened to his mom ask him what the hell he had been doing for the past week, listened to his dad credit him for finding something to do with his life, and then reached up to snatch the leftover beer can that had been left on the couch and was about to toss it into the trash… but then instead put it in his pocket and went off with the woman to live many sexy and entertaining adventures.
Meanwhile, in the next five days, I soon became branch director of the Collen’s Music. Soon in another two months, I became head of Director’s for the U.S. of Collen’s Music. All my talents as a secret agent were never as useful as my secret knowledge of actually being a talented and powerful director in the music sales industry. Currently Collen’s Music now makes five hundred million as we speak and I have never felt so happy selling to the consumer rather than saving the world from unspeakable perils by the skin of my teeth and all of it thanks to the ex-bartender that served me a beer instead of that martini. And ever since, I have lived happily ever after.