Tagged: tune in next time

“We Head Back To The Pier”

  • k-avatarmost likely had a perfect tan
  • Lazy Canadians
  • try another flavor
  • “You’re worth it.”
  • with segmented metal fins

Tune In Next Time Part 11                              Click Here for Earlier Installments

“We head back to the pier,” I said, my mind suddenly connecting the dots. Tessa scowled at me, nodding bitterly.

“Okay, mister smarty-pants, what’s the next step in my plan?” She still had her arms crossed, carrying her plentiful bosom like a coed’s textbooks. Even in this awful light, even just minutes after being drugged into unconsciousness, she was radiant, most likely had a perfect tan, probably sans tan lines. My train of thought toppled comically off its tracks.

She laughed at me, but the ice in her gaze was melting. “This is just like that song by Lazy Canadians.”

“You mean ‘Try Another Flavor’?” I asked. It was about boobs.

“No, silly! I mean ‘Pirate Booty,’ the one about treasure buried in the sand.”

My mental derailment reversed itself. That was it! Everything started with the map, and with whatever lay buried amid that dead forest of pilings. But we couldn’t forget that John had the briefcase, and that he’d get it open eventually. Tessa’s smile grew warmer yet, reminding me of when things were better.

“Sorry for all the kerfuffle,” I muttered, not sure I wanted her to hear it.

“You’re worth it.” She put a hand on my shoulder. “Before we go running off to the pier, we have to think about what we’ll need when we get there. Some way of excavating the sand, underwater, without being seen. I don’t even know what that would look like.”

I did. It was my own invention, a submersible digging machine with segmented metal fins. John didn’t know about it, no one did. Was I ready to show it to Tessa? It seemed I would have no choice.

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I Led Tessa Outside

  1. by jenCharacter – Harajuku girl
  2. Setting – behind the wheel of a large automobile
  3. Object – keys
  4. Situation – hiccups

Tune In Next Time Part 12                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

I led Tessa outside and balanced her on the handlebars of my stolen bicycle as I pedaled through the dark city to the self-storage facility where my excavation machine was stored, along with the rest of my inventions. Things were improving between us, but I didn’t fully trust Tessa. I couldn’t imagine letting her get a look at the contents of my storage unit, so I left her in the office, talking to the night manager, a Japanese woman with bright pink hair, cat ears and a parasol.

The submersible digging machine was far too bulky to carry on the bike, so when I hurried back to the office I asked Michiko if I could borrow her car. She charged me $200 and tossed me the keys. Tessa hadn’t run off during my brief absence, which both pleased and frightened me. The two of us climbed into Michiko’s Hello Kitty-bedazzled Lincoln Continental, me behind the wheel, Tessa riding shotgun but twisted around to stare at the mechanical wonder in the back seat.

As I navigated back to the pier, Tessa gave a loud hiccup, and then another. She turned around to face front and hiccuped again. I knew those hiccups well. Tessa always had an attack when she was horny.

“Now’s not a good time, babe,” I said.

“I — hic — know,” she said. “And that only makes it — hic — worse.”

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Tessa’s Hiccups Persisted

  • k-avatarthe man with the severed leg
  • just another Tuesday
  • couldn’t actually read the sweatshirt
  • (just “Uncle Terry” being Uncle Terry)
  • partially tattooed on his elbow

Tune In Next Time Part 13                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Tessa’s hiccups persisted as we cruised the darkened back streets of the city. I knew Michiko had enemies, and her unsubtle car might draw unwelcome attention on the boulevards. I was grateful for the narrow lanes I had to guide the huge car through, because the tight quarters demanded my attention, kept me from becoming too distracted by what those hiccups meant.

“Oh, crap,” I muttered.

“The parade,” Tessa said.

Where our tiny side-street debouched onto the main thoroughfare, sawhorses and hay bales blocked our path. I approached the barrier slowly, thinking we might be able to shift things aside and sneak through before the parade began.

And in any other town that might have been reasonable. But the weekly Macabre Misfits parade was in full swing, as it would be for 24 hours. To the double-M, this was just another Tuesday.

There wasn’t room to open the car door, so I rolled down the window and climbed out. Jugglers were passing, throwing mannequin limbs back and forth. I hoped. The man with the severed leg in his hand glanced at me, and although I couldn’t actually read the sweatshirt he wore I did notice a subversive slogan partially tattooed on his elbow.

Tessa had emerged as well, and the man seemed surprised to see her.

“Hi, — hic — Terry. Sorry we’re late,” she said, dropping me a wink. “Think your troupe can sorta — hic — vamp for a while so we can get our — hic — float out of this alleyway?”

The man bowed to us, then rallied the rest of the jugglers to hold a space in the parade while we got the barricade out of the way.

“He — hic — does this every week,” Tessa explained. “My third cousin or something, but he’s older so — hic — I always thought he was my uncle. The — hic — limb-juggling is his passion (just “Uncle Terry” being Uncle Terry). Shall we?”

The parade was even heading in the right direction. But it was so slow.

Tessa’s hiccups persisted.

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Those Erotic Hiccups

  • by jen(yeah, I sleep naked at home — so what?)
  • — the matter is laid before me
  • probably some electric phenomenon
  • wearing a multi-layered chiffon skirt
  • walk a poodle along the East River

Tune In Next Time Part 14                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Those erotic hiccups, probably some electric phenomenon in her brain caused by the time Tessa got a shock while we were doing it in a tank of electric eels, were a huge distraction. I tried to block the thoughts of our aquarium escapade, only to have them replaced by memories of the time the electric blanket shorted out during one of our sweatier encounters. That time Tessa had been wearing a multi-layered chiffon skirt, I had been naked (yeah, I sleep naked at home — so what?) and we both got quite a jolt.

“Hic!”

“Hold the wheel steady, Tessa, I need to close my eyes for a minute.”

“O-hic!-kay”

I had to meditate on the plan. I turned on cruise control to maintain our 5 mph speed. As soon as Tessa had the steering wheel I dropped my hands to my knees in the Gyan Mudra pose and boom — the matter is laid before me in perfect clarity. I can see around all the corners, anticipate every potential pitfall, predict John’s most likely actions.

I held my thoughts in order and slowly opened my eyes.

“The first thing we need to do,” I said to Tessa, “is make John walk a poodle along the East River, if you know what I mean.”

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Tessa Let Go of the Steering Wheel

  • k-avatargirlfriend and your sister
  • Well, do you want to follow their path?
  • We had a TV exactly like this
  • began to pick the dust and rocks off them
  • you should always have something baking

Tune In Next Time Part 15                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Tessa let go of the steering wheel and said, “How are we going to do that? That’s a long con.”

Her exasperation seemed to have cured her hiccups, but even so I smiled. “John himself taught me this: you should always have something baking. I’ve had him ‘walking the poodle’ for over a year now.” I steadied the wheel to keep our huge, sparkling car on course in the parade. “Should be a piece of cake to get him over to the river, as it were.” I winked.

“Wait a second — I’m the poodle? This is as bad as the time you introduced me as both your girlfriend and your sister to the same relatives at your cousin’s wedding!”

“They weren’t my relatives, they were on the groom’s side. And you embarrassed me too, when you began to pick the dust and rocks off them.”

“I only did that to be polite.”

I took a deep breath. “Anyway, my poodle, this is the only way.” During our argument the parade had inched along until we were almost upon the Y-intersection at Circle Square. We’d be able to edge our way out on the right fork, onto Elliptical Avenue and out of the Macabre procession. “Well, do you want to follow their path?” I asked Tessa, gesturing ahead. With a shake of her head, she took the wheel again and diverted us to the right.

But we had to stop, not because of the crowd lining the route but because another float had pulled off before us and blocked the road. It was a boxy thing the size of a house, bearing a convex window that took up the entire side facing us, through which we saw people dressed as ninjas bouncing on a trampoline inside.

“We had a TV exactly like this,” Tessa remarked.

Suddenly the giant television screen flipped open and the ninjas bounded out. Michiko’s sworn enemies, Ninja-Vision, had found us!

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These Ninjas Were Even More Deadly

  • by jenboarded the 7 train
  • spoon in hand
  • locked away in a gunmetal gray filing cabinet
  • the hole where their feelings used to be
  • It was infinitely pitiful

Tune In Next Time Part 16                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

These ninjas were even more deadly than your garden-variety ninjas. Their overlords, Ninja-Vision, had a wicked and ruthless indoctrination technique which left them with hyper-sensitive senses and an impenetrable blackness in the hole where their feelings used to be. All of their secrets were locked away in a gunmetal gray filing cabinet in Michiko’s office. She’d shown me the training manual once when I asked how she stayed so fit.

“Show them we’re unarmed!” Tessa cried as the leader bounded onto the hood of the car, spoon in hand.

“Show them we’re not Michiko!” I yelled back.

In no time the lead ninja used his spoon like a can opener to remove the pink and white roof from our Hello Kitty mobile. Just as he was about to end our lives with that same commonplace utensil, he noticed that neither of us was the Harajuku girl from the self-storage place, the rebellious daughter of their leader. He checked his attack just in time, the spoon landing harmlessly between Tessa and myself.

“Flee,” he whispered in my mind’s ear.

I scrambled out of the car, dragging Tessa with me. We barely had time to rescue the underwater digging apparatus from the backseat before the rest of the ninja swarm set about destroying the Lincoln as a message to Michiko.

As we fled down Elliptical Avenue, I took one last look over my shoulder at the remains of the car. It was infinitely pitiful to behold, and the ninjas were already gone, along with their giant mobile TV headquarters.

“This way!” Tessa pulled me down the stairs to the subway where we boarded the 7 train.

“But Tessa,” I said. “This train doesn’t go to the pier.”

“I –hic– know,” she purred.

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Now I Remembered

  • k-avatarPossibly NSFW
  • sitting in the bathtub sucking her thumb
  • plopping into the sewer below
  • versus when I don’t
  • running with scissors wasn’t smart

Tune In Next Time Part 17                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Now I remembered. The 7 train ran under Tessa’s old neighborhood. I couldn’t help picturing her sitting in the bathtub sucking her thumb, batting her lashes and beckoning for me to join her. But she had moved to a nicer place out in the suburbs years ago. Her lashes were batting again as we rode the subway. We were alone in this train car. What was she up to now?

“Tessa,” I started, but I didn’t say more. Something was amiss. I felt we weren’t alone after all. The train’s motion caused a discarded newspaper to rustle. I looked more closely at the heaps of garbage arrayed throughout the compartment. My natural suspicious nature is keener when I have people actively trying to kill me versus when I don’t, and right now I was suspecting everyone. Especially Tessa.

Just as I feared, the detritus in the subway car concealed yet more ninjas. These were not from Ninja-Vision. They were one of the mercenary dojos. Possibly NSFW. The Ninja Society of Furtive Warfare wouldn’t ask why Tessa wanted to hire them. But I did.

“Why?”

“How did you know it was — hic — me?”

“You can drop the act. You really were scared back there, with ninjas you hadn’t hired about to pounce on us. Yet your hiccups didn’t go away — because they were fake all along!”

“Ninjas! Attack!” she screamed. If running with scissors wasn’t smart, then running with a submersible digging machine on a moving train was something there’s no word for. But it’s what I did. I turned on the machine and brandished it at the ninjas whenever their camouflage faltered.

The train braked hard and I lost my balance, falling onto the digging machine. It sliced through the floor and plunged straight through the tracks of the subway tunnel, boring downward with me still hanging on, eventually plopping into the sewer below.

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My Time in the Sewer

  • by jenyou are a murderess or something
  • “Rouse yourself, my dear girl.”
  • I’m afraid that our hunt’s over
  • cudgeling his brain for some pretext
  • captured by a group of angry citizens

Tune In Next Time Part 18                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

My time in the sewer does not bear speaking of. Suffice it to say that I made my way through the filthy pipe all the way to its outlet into the sea. I then spent a few minutes scrubbing myself clean with saltwater. Or as clean as one can get that close to raw sewage.

As luck would have it, my flume ride of effluent deposited me only a mile down the beach from the pier I’d been trying to reach anyway. I swam along parallel to the shore, dragging the submersible digging machine along. I arrived at the pier as the sun peeked over the horizon. I’d have to work fast if I wanted to claim my prize without being captured by a group of angry citizens.

The roar of an outboard motor cut through the crashing of the waves and there they were, John and Tessa, in a new zodiac, closing in on the pier. The engine cut out and I heard John say, “Rouse yourself, my dear girl.”

Tessa stretched and yawned as she sat up. With their attention on the pilings and the waves, neither had noticed me yet. I had one chance.

I took a huge breath and dove down to the bottom, the weight of the digging machine making my descent dangerously fast. I embedded its nose into the sandy bottom in the spot where I thought the treasure was most likely to be buried, and turned it on.

Sand and seashells and little bits of pulverized fish flew up in a gory tornado behind the machine, chumming the water and cutting visibility to zero. My lungs ached for air like a man cudgeling his brain for some pretext to explain away his Ashley Madison account.

The light on my underwater digging machine turned from green to red, the signal that it had found something. I shoved it aside and stuck my hands down into the hole it had made. They closed around a metal box. I yanked it free from the seabed and kicked for the surface.

When my head broke through to the air, I took a very noisy breath. Tessa, mere yards away, spotted me immediately and said to John, “I’m afraid that our hunt’s over.” Looking back at me she said, “Is this close enough to the East River for you, you bastard? You should know by now that I’m nobody’s poodle.”

“No Tessa, you’re no poodle. You are a murderess, or something even worse.”

I stared her down as I treaded water, holding the metal box just below the surface of the rolling waves. And then I spotted the dorsal fins. Sharks, attracted, no doubt, by the fresh fish smoothie my digging machine had blended up.

Damn.

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While Tessa Laughed

  • k-avatar— those Unicorn things you know, without horns —
  • at the sight of the nude young man
  • Because it’s the latter.
  • coquelicot malice in his face
  • very nervous about his voice being taped

Tune In Next Time Part 19                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

While Tessa laughed like a warped violin played by a demented jackrabbit and John checked the regulator on his diving suit, I started paddling toward shore, careful to keep the box out of sight beneath the surface of the water. The sharks might get me, but John and Tessa damn well weren’t getting the treasure. If the chum-vortex that attracted the sharks in the first place kept them distracted, I would be ashore and long gone before my former partner and my former paramour found the empty hole on the seabed. When the sandy bottom came up to meet my exhausted strokes, I knew my troubles were all behind me.

“Cut!” a shrill voice bellowed. I looked up from where I had crawled onto the beach and discovered a film crew in front of me. I stifled a laugh at the sight of the nude young man jogging in place. The director stormed down on me, coquelicot malice in his face and a piece of driftwood in his hand. I stood, tucking the metal box under my arm and scowling to match the director’s vicious mood.

“What are you doing here!” he screamed. “Can’t you see we’re filming! Beach closed!”

“I’m here to inspect the set,” I improvised. “Your permits better all be in proper order, too!”

The director dropped his driftwood club. “Oh, of course. It’ll only take a moment. Help yourself to some hot coffee.” And he scurried off.

I glanced back out over the water to see Tessa alone in the zodiac, eyeing the circling fins uneasily. I tried not to laugh, in case the film crew started doubting my story. Never wonder if it’s a good or bad idea to laugh out loud among your enemies. Because it’s the latter.

At the craft services table, I got a hot beverage. The nude young man jogged up to me and said, “In my scene, in the finished movie, I’ll be riding animals — those Unicorn things you know, without horns — but it’s all digital. So I have to move like I’m riding.” His eyes fell on the corroded metal box I still carried. “You’re not recording this are you?” And he ran away.

The caterer shrugged. After I stared openmouthed for a few seconds, she said, “Tyler’s going to do fine in this business. He’s very nervous about his voice being taped, but he’s okay going full-frontal.”

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A Second Woman in Chef’s Whites

  • by jen“Look, Esmerelda!” she whispered.
  • my angry heart
  • the fire is slowly dying
  • vital, sunburnt, carefree
  • where social graces are never needed

Tune In Next Time Part 20                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

A second woman in chef’s whites approached the craft services table. The first woman elbowed her and pointed at the vital, sunburnt, carefree Tyler as he cavorted around the beach naked. “Look, Esmerelda!” she whispered. A movie set seems to be a place where social graces are never needed.

While the two of them ogled the actor, I cast my eyes back out to the zodiac bobbing in the waves near the pier. Tessa had double crossed me so many times in the past 24 hours I wasn’t sure I could ever trust her again. The woman was maddening, and for years I carried an inferno of passion for her in my angry heart.

“She’s cast her lot with John now,” I said to myself, “and in my heart the fire is slowly dying.”

I shook the metal box, hoping to divine its contents, but the sloshing rattle gave me nothing to go on. I stared at the lock, remembering that Tessa alone knew the combination.

Out on the sea, the ominous fins were circling ever closer to the zodiac and its lone passenger.

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