|
|
Postcards From Iowa... Actual words included in this one Sunday, 05-Mar-2000 21:45:20
Fleabot sat on the dresser as Visionary shoveled clothes into a dufflebag. “So you really quit the Legion?” he asked. “Yep” Visionary answered as he packed 15 pairs of white socks, plus one pair of black ones--just in case. “They’ve got plenty of members, so they don’t really need me...” He paused, just in case Fleabot might want to argue that point. Apparently, he didn’t. “... and, what with Cheryl gone, I thought I should take the opportunity to... I don’t know, find myself, or something.” “Uh-huh” Fleabot answered. “I can see where some of you might be missing.” The tiny robot jumped to the nightstand as Visionary started pulling shirts out of the dresser drawer. “You might consider folding those.” he noted critically. “And what did Lisa have to say about this?” “I... didn’t really have the chance to tell her.” Visionary answered. In truth, he had dodged the new Lair Leader entirely. Ever since Jarvis died, her ‘hungers’ had become a bit frightening... “I left a letter with DarkHwk.” “And Yo?” the robot prompted. “Well...” Visionary began evasively. Would he need a tie? He was bringing black socks, after all... “I didn’t actually *tell* Yo I was leaving...” “Uh-huh” Fleabot replied again. “And what did you *actually* do?” “I... uh... stuck a post-it note where he’d be likely to find it.” Fleabot thought about it. “You didn’t cover that stupid bunny’s eyes this time, did you?” “It’s not like I *meant* to stick it to that damn rabbit!” Visionary protested. “It jumped on the desk while I was writing it...” Visionary zipped up the bag. “I’m pretty sure that I got enough of the message down before it bounced away, though...” Fleabot leapt onto Visionary’s shoulder as he gathered up his dufflebag and headed downstairs. “So, how do you plan to make your great odyssey?” he asked. “Uh...” Fleabot sighed. “What are you driving....?” “Oh!” Visionary said, “A rent-a-car. I got a really good deal on a convertible.” “Well, that’s either due to your superior haggling skills...” Fleabot said, “or it’s because it’s February and winter in this hemisphere.” “You know” Visionary observed dryly as he turned down the condo’s heat, “it’s so nice of you to come out here to see me off.” “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I’m coming too.” Visionary dropped his luggage. “What? Since When?” He looked closely at the miniature flea-shaped robot, some suspicions forming. “Whose idea was this?” “Why, my own, of course.” He answered sincerely. “Certainly not Lisa and Cheryl’s. I’m sure that they both have complete confidence in your abilities to look after yourself.” Visionary scowled and hefted his bag again. “Won’t you be missed around the Lair?” “Not really. If necessary, I can be in two places at once. I’ve been practicing my trans-dimensional-tele-chronal-portation.” Taking a key from his pocket, Visionary opened the front door and left. “That’s a neat trick. How...” he stopped. “Never-mind, I probably didn’t pack enough aspirin. But isn’t being in two places at once a paradox?” “I suppose” Fleabot answered nonchalantly. “Why?” Visionary looked at the scarred patch of grass where The Man Who’s Everywhere met The Man Who Wasn’t There. He really should try using Miracle Grow on it sometime... “Oh... no reason.” He locked the front door and headed out down the walk. “Anyway...” the robot continued. “I could use a vacation myself. That purple bunny has been getting a lot of roles, recently... Frankly, I think it’s going to his head. It will be nice to...” he stopped when he saw the car. “I, ah... didn’t realize that Ford had even made any Pinto convertibles...” “I think it was a concept car.” Visionary reassured him. “It *does* have a top, right? It’s just down, isn’t it?” Visionary pondered that. “You’d certainly think so” he answered. “Otherwise, it really wouldn’t ‘convert’, would it?” He threw his bag in the narrow back-seat and climbed in the driver’s side. “I’m sure we’ll find a control for it before it starts to rain...” “Sound planning” Fleabot noted. He hopped onto the dashboard, next to what looked like a bobbing-head Elvis doll. “Please tell me that came with the car...” Visionary nodded. “You don’t even want to know what was in the trunk...” “So... where to?” Fleabot asked. “Wherever the road takes us!” the ex-Legionnaire answered enthusiastically. Fleabot nodded. “This is a Cul-De-Sac.” “Oh” Visionary answered. “Then, uh... how ‘bout east?” Fleabot gave a microscopic shrug. “Works for me.” Corn. The stuff was unending, spreading out in all directions from the highway like, well... like a whole helluva lotta corn. It had been like this for hours. Visionary was thankful when he caught the small flash out of the corner of his eye that signified that Fleabot had made his return Trans-dimensional-temporal-teleportation-jump back from the Lair. “Okay, where are we?” Fleabot asked. “Uh... in a cornfield... THE cornfield, actually.” Visionary answered. “I certainly can’t imagine why they’d need more than one.” He risked taking his eyes off the perfectly straight, deserted road to cast the miniature robot a curious look. “So.... what’s happening back there?” Fleabot took his customary place on the dashboard. “Well, let’s see... Jarvis is alive again...” “That didn’t take too long...” Visionary noted. “Who won the pool?” “Banjooo was closest in number of hours” Fleabot answered absently. “Lisa’s as big as a Volkswagen... NOT the cute kind, mind you, were talking the bus here... which is surprising, because she seems to be getting quite a work-out from the new guys...” “DarkHwk and Messenger?” “Newer” the robot replied. “In fact, the Lair is getting pretty crowded... I hear HV’s setting up his own team again...” “Really?” Visionary asked. “You know, I’ve got the Gilgamesh costume in the trunk...” He paused as Fleabot gave him a withering stare. “What? It could come in handy...” “Hmmm... what else... Sex jokes are at an all time high... I think everyone’s trying to use up the last of their Monica Lewinsky material before it goes too stale...” He paused and gave a curious look towards the 8-track embedded in the Pinto’s dashboard. “What the hell is that we’re listening to, anyway?” “I found it in the trunk” Visionary replied. “I never even realized that William Shatner had ever cut an album... So, what kind of adventures are they having?” Fleabot paced thoughtfully. “Well... that Bill Gates thing was before Jarvis died, right? And the mob thing? And the trip to Yo-Planet? And the Fudd thing?” “Yeah” “Then they’re pretty much just having sex and receiving counseling, which, if you ask me, is long overdue.” “The, ah, sex or counseling?” “You know my stance on any of you risking procreation.” His little robot eyes glazed over. “The horror... the horror...” Visionary nodded. “So... when do you think *we’ll* find adventure?” “I’m sure it’s waiting for us right around the next bend.” Fleabot answered cheerfully. Visionary stared off into the horizon. “This road doesn’t seem to bend any time soon.” “Yeah” Fleabot replied. “I noticed that myself.” “Okay, I spy something that begins with the letter ‘C’…” Fleabot sighed. “It wouldn’t be ‘corn’, by any chance” he muttered. “Would it?” “Ummmmm…” Visionary replied. “Maybe we need a new game.” Fleabot looked out across the great corn sea. “This just isn’t possible” he argued. “We’ve been driving for, what? Days? Weeks? How can there be nothing but corn? Iowa can’t possibly last forever.” He looked at Visionary suspiciously. “And how is it that we’ve never had to stop for food or gas?” The Ex-Legionnaire shrugged. “There’s a picnic basket and gas can in the trunk” he explained. “We’re in a Pinto!” Fleabot yelled, exasperated. “If the top wasn’t missing, the damn thing would be a hatchback! There shouldn’t even be a trunk!!!” Visionary turned his head to make what he considered a rather clever retort, when, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a man step out of the cornfield and into the middle of the road. “Gaaaahhhhh!!!!” he screamed, (Visionary, not the man), as he slammed on the breaks. The car screeched to a stop, but not before the bumper made solid contact, flinging the man a good twenty feet down the asphalt. Fleabot and Visionary froze. “Oh crap”, they said in unison. Visionary fumbled with the door locks while Fleabot took a mighty robotic flea leap and flung himself to the battered pedestrian. “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod…” Visionary was rambling as he finally managed to open the door and join Fleabot. He was somewhat relived that the guy wasn’t lying in a pool of his own blood, like on those ‘Death on the Highway’ films that they had made him watch in Drivers Ed. In fact, he looked pretty damn good, at least for someone who was just run over. His pin-striped uniform wasn’t even all that dirty. Visionary prodded him with a nearby stick. “Aw crud” he moaned. “He’s dead.” Fleabot was just staring at the man in shock. “He’s Shoeless Joe Jackson.” “He was a friend of yours?” Visionary asked, stricken. “Er… sorry I bounced him off the hood of my car...” “You don’t understand” the robot replied. “This is Shoeless Joe Jackson. He *should* be dead…” “Ummm…” Visionary said nervously. “I would categorize this as more of an accident… I’m not sure I want to plead justifiable homicide…” “No!” Fleabot snapped impatiently. “Not ‘deserves to be dead’!!! This guy has *been* dead… for quite a while…” Visionary looked to the man lying flat on his back in the middle of the road. “I don’t know if we could get that theory past the coroner…” “Aaaargh!” the micro-robot swore. “I’m telling you that this guy was a famous ballplayer who died years ago!!!” Visionary peered at him closely. “I’m not even sure he’s dead now…” he noted, poking the man with his stick some more. “Maybe we should try to revive him.” Fleabot looked around. “Do you have a cell phone? We should call an ambulance…” “No… but I think I saw a defibrillator in the trunk…” he replied. Fleabot sighed. “In the trunk… right.” “Check behind the jack” Visionary called out helpfully. Much to Fleabot’s surprise, there was indeed a defibrillator behind the jack. After making a mental note to dig more deeply into where, exactly, Visionary had acquired this vehicle, he returned with the emergency medical gear in tow. Visionary rubbed the paddles together, as anyone who had watched ER knew how to do. “Clear!” he yelled, pressing the paddles down on Shoeless Joe’s chest. “Gzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzttt!” Joe exclaimed, bouncing like a freshly caught sea-bass in a cooler. “Ummm… maybe you should check his pulse…” Fleabot suggested as Joes’s eyelids fluttered. “No time for that!” Visionary yelled, charging up the paddles again. “Clear!” “Gzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzurt!!!!” He said again, flopping like a quarter on top of an unbalanced washing machine. “Huh?” Joe finally said, opening his eyes. “Clear what? Am I… is… Is this Heaven?” Visionary and Fleabot looked at each other, then at the obscene abundance of corn surrounding them. “Better shock him again” Fleabot decided. “He ain’t quite right, yet.” “Clear!” “Gah No! I… Gzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzrt!!!!” Shoeless Joe argued, shaking like… well, like a man getting shocked, I suppose. “QUIT IT!!!!” He managed to yell. “I think he’s alive again.” Fleabot noted. Visionary looked at the panting, irate ballplayer, then down at his paddles. “I suppose so” he sighed. “Do you remember what happened?” he asked Joe. Joe removed his cap and scratched his head. “The ball… it got hit into the cornfield again… was my turn to go fetch it…” Fleabot shook his head. “What kind of idiot would build a ball field in the middle of a corn crop?” Joe chewed his lip thoughtfully. “Now that I think about it, that doesn’t really make much sense…” “Nothing… ah… after that?” Visionary asked carefully. Shoeless Joe shook his head. “Nope… just waking up with you fella’s huddled over me.” “Good! I mean… uh…” Fleabot cut him off. “Can we give you a lift into the next town?” Joe climbed to his feet with a hand from Visionary and brushed the dust off his uniform. “No… thanks. I really ought to find that ball, and I don’t accept rides with… uh…” He looked at the two ex-Legionnaires. “Ummm… No. Thanks.” They waved as the undead ballplayer was once again swallowed by the maize and then repacked the defibrillator. Climbing back into the car, they sat there for a moment, staring at the unendingly straight road before them. They then looked back the way they had come, at an identical view. With a sigh, Visionary put the car in drive. “I don’t care what you say…” he added as they pulled away from the side of the road. “That was even creepier than that town with no grown-ups….” “What do you think?” Visionary asked critically. “I think they’re cows” Fleabot sighed. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you… it’s a refreshing, albeit temporary, change from corn.” Visionary didn’t seem to be paying attention. Instead he walked slowly around a rather large brown one. The cow just continued to stare at him with big glassy eyes while it absently chewed on its cud. “Does it look any better from that end?” Fleabot asked wearily. “I don’t know…” the Legionnaire said, cocking his head to the side as he contemplated the cow’s heiny. “I was hoping for something a bit more… appetizing.” The cow didn’t seem to notice the less than flattering implications of this comment. Frankly, the cow didn’t seem to notice much of anything. “Didn’t he eat a Moose once? Antlers and all?” the robot reminded him. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Oh, watch your…” he began as Visionary’s foot sank into a large cow pie. “Um… nevermind.” Visionary grimaced. “You’d think they could litter train them or something” he muttered. “I’m guessing you’re a city boy.” Fleabot noted. The Legionnaire went back to studying the bovine intently. “Do you suppose they could ship it alive?” “What could it possibly matter?” the robot asked. “I’m sure the other Legionnaires could wiggle the carcass if he didn’t take an interest in a dead one.” “Hmmmm….” Visionary said, returning to the cute (it’s all relative, people) end of the ungulate. In all fairness, the cow really didn’t seem all that impressed with Visionary either. “What about that lovely birthday air freshener you bought for him at the last truckstop?” Fleabot asked. “Well… that was just if we couldn’t find anything better” he answered defensively. He took out the tree shaped, pine-scented ornament and, after a moment’s thought, hung it around the cow’s neck. “Festive.” Fleabot observed. “Good enough?” “I really should have gotten him a card as well…” “There’s a can of orange spray-paint in the trunk.” The tiny robot informed him. “Make do.” Visionary gathered up the can, shook it vigorously, and wrote ‘Happy Birthday’ in big, orange letters along the cow’s side. “Poor penmanship” Fleabot noted critically. “It’s my first attempt at Bovine Graffiti.” “It shows” Visionary wrote the Dragon’s address on the cow’s opposite side, then pulled some stamps out of his pocket. Once again he looked at the large smelly thing critically. “How many, do you think?” “Better use the whole book.” “Right.” He pulled out the attached stamps and licked the sheet, making a face. He then slapped them to the cow’s forehead. The cow didn’t seem to mind. Fleabot nodded. “How’re you gonna fit it in the mail box?” A look of concern crossed Visionary’s face. “Well…” he finally decided, “She doesn’t seem to move much…” They left the cow happily (or so they assumed. At the very least, she seemed content… what more could one really ask out of life?) chewing her cud alongside the large blue postal box by the side of the road. Visionary looked to his traveling companion. “Back to the corn?” “Actually” the robot admitted, an evil grin on his tiny face, “I think I’d rather wait for the mail to be picked up. National Public Radio loses it’s entertainment value after a while.” HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FIN FANG FOOM!!! BON APPÉTIT! |
| It's Visionary's last night here, and all he has are these lousy reposts... (Visionary) (05-Mar-2000 21:13:16) |
|
Copyright © Looksmart, Ltd. 1997-1999.
All rights reserved.