Alt Dreams [One-Shots] (27—'Sleeper') (20150623)
Posted: Tue Jun 23, 2015 11:54 pm
Some time ago, a guy named Luke got me writing KS fiction outside these forums. That's all I'll say about that.
Let me introduce you to an unnamed protagonist and a cyan-haired femme fatale who might seem oddly familiar.
The Big Sleeper
I knew the dame was trouble when I had to ask her out. So I guess I have to tell you the rest of the story and here it is. I warn you, it’s like Las Vegas—it starts with a holy office and ends with a high-stakes game.
*****
After she stepped out, I slammed the door on her sweet ass and moved back behind my desk. It’s a sanctuary, and the hard stuff is just a short grab away. I had to think. There had to be a way to solve my problem.
Bang. Bang. She was knocking up a storm. Part of me wished I could knock her back up.
As another hole appeared in my pasteboard-thin walls, I yelled, “Yeah, you want back in, just say so!” Used my brains and moved off to one side, just as another bullet went through the space my mouth used to be around.
“You no-good piece of Styrofoam!” she was yelling back. “You extended-polymer cretin! Polymethylmethacrylate! Polycarbonate!”
I’m substituting chains of stuff for what she actually said. It’s hard to describe the chemistry between us otherwise. Her name is Suzu Suzuki, she’s a sleeper, and obviously, she’s a repeat polymer of the exotic type.
Gingerly, I approached the doorframe. She could see me coming a mile away, and since my room is only twenty feet deep, I knew I was in trouble. Except that she had no more bullets left in that six-chamber old piece she was brandishing in the smoky air.
“Gunsmoke,” I murmured, “does not become you.”
“Consider it a bonanza, rifleman,” she replied.
Suzu is petite, she has obvious functional groups but they don’t give much steric hindrance. Right now, she was volatile, and I was cautious. Her hair, as usual, was blue; given the tone of her voice, that wasn’t all that was blue.
“Will you have dinner with me?”
“Dinner? I want your guts for garters!”
“Aw, come on, lady, that’s a load of tripe and you know it.”
“Is that any kind of language to use on a lady?”
I briefly considered what she’d used on me (and my office). I decided that I wouldn’t press the point, just in case she decided to eliminate me.
“I’ll pick up the tab?”
“That’s better. Depends on where, though.”
“The Ponderosa?” Which is a steakhouse, with good meat, even though it reminds me of another kind of house with a different kind of flesh. It’s also on the 45th floor, so if you like shooting things up, you’re already mostly up.
She weighed that thought up in her mind, the steel vise of her eyes grinding it to bits and making up a solution.
“That’ll do,” she said acidly. But it had a cooler feel to it, so I guess her reaction was winding down.
“I’ll drive.”
“About that…” she said, looking a bit guilty. Her blue eyebrows twitched a bit. I hated that twitch, so I twitched back. I looked past her to the parking lot. My old Mustang was looking a bit knackered. In fact, it looked plain tired. With holes in the tires. Flat out.
“Aw, dammit, lady.”
We took her ride instead. Some foreign horse, very streamlined, lots of power underneath the hood. I drove: safer that way—she once fell asleep driving and totalled more cars than a traffic accountant at peak hour.
*****
“So, what was today all about?” I asked delicately after the server had disconnected from our table.
“Money, sex, power.”
The unholy trinity. I should have guessed. But I didn’t quite see how it applied.
“Uh, could you elaborate?”
“You’re not getting any of it.”
“Aw, lady, that’s plain mean.”
“Well, that’s the way it is.”
We sat in uncomfortable but companionable silence for a while. It was a pretty long while, since our food arrived while we were whiling away the time. It was so long and silent that I was thinking about writing a novel about hunting a white while.
“You see,” she said without preamble, “it’s all about my father’s fortune.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s a lot of money.”
“Do go on.”
“Someone’s trying to take it all. Or more than one.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I need to know, and I need to know it now!”
“Know what?”
Her steak was well-done, almost burnt. Mine was rare but not raw. I could feel a drop of the red stuff fall off the edge of my lip as she speared a little cube of hers like an Eskimo hunter making whisky on the rocks.
“Are you?”
“Am I what, lady?”
“One of those who might be trying to make off with the loot!”
To tell the truth, making off had not been on my agenda for the evening. Making up, first. Then maybe…
“Quick, answer!”
I had the feeling that she’d taken her time in the ladies’ room as an opportunity to reload. I didn’t want her to get us both banned from this place, and I’d rather a hot loin than a cold shoulder, when it comes to beef.
“Fine, fine…”
“Well?”
I looked out the window. This high up, you could see the sun set even after it had set. It looked like yellow Jello on deep blue Greek pottery.
“Uh, Suzu, do you promise not to fire that thing at me again?”
“No promises, polycyanoacrylate!”
There she was again, with the additional vocabulary. I worried about her. I worried about me. I decided to take steps. At worst, I’d only compound whatever existing offences I’d committed.
“Okay. Will you marry me?” I asked, offering her an heterocyclic ring.
“I thought you’d never ask!” she said, falling asleep in my arms.
And that is how I won a high-steaks game and we lived happily ever after.
The end.
=====
alt index
Let me introduce you to an unnamed protagonist and a cyan-haired femme fatale who might seem oddly familiar.
The Big Sleeper
I knew the dame was trouble when I had to ask her out. So I guess I have to tell you the rest of the story and here it is. I warn you, it’s like Las Vegas—it starts with a holy office and ends with a high-stakes game.
*****
After she stepped out, I slammed the door on her sweet ass and moved back behind my desk. It’s a sanctuary, and the hard stuff is just a short grab away. I had to think. There had to be a way to solve my problem.
Bang. Bang. She was knocking up a storm. Part of me wished I could knock her back up.
As another hole appeared in my pasteboard-thin walls, I yelled, “Yeah, you want back in, just say so!” Used my brains and moved off to one side, just as another bullet went through the space my mouth used to be around.
“You no-good piece of Styrofoam!” she was yelling back. “You extended-polymer cretin! Polymethylmethacrylate! Polycarbonate!”
I’m substituting chains of stuff for what she actually said. It’s hard to describe the chemistry between us otherwise. Her name is Suzu Suzuki, she’s a sleeper, and obviously, she’s a repeat polymer of the exotic type.
Gingerly, I approached the doorframe. She could see me coming a mile away, and since my room is only twenty feet deep, I knew I was in trouble. Except that she had no more bullets left in that six-chamber old piece she was brandishing in the smoky air.
“Gunsmoke,” I murmured, “does not become you.”
“Consider it a bonanza, rifleman,” she replied.
Suzu is petite, she has obvious functional groups but they don’t give much steric hindrance. Right now, she was volatile, and I was cautious. Her hair, as usual, was blue; given the tone of her voice, that wasn’t all that was blue.
“Will you have dinner with me?”
“Dinner? I want your guts for garters!”
“Aw, come on, lady, that’s a load of tripe and you know it.”
“Is that any kind of language to use on a lady?”
I briefly considered what she’d used on me (and my office). I decided that I wouldn’t press the point, just in case she decided to eliminate me.
“I’ll pick up the tab?”
“That’s better. Depends on where, though.”
“The Ponderosa?” Which is a steakhouse, with good meat, even though it reminds me of another kind of house with a different kind of flesh. It’s also on the 45th floor, so if you like shooting things up, you’re already mostly up.
She weighed that thought up in her mind, the steel vise of her eyes grinding it to bits and making up a solution.
“That’ll do,” she said acidly. But it had a cooler feel to it, so I guess her reaction was winding down.
“I’ll drive.”
“About that…” she said, looking a bit guilty. Her blue eyebrows twitched a bit. I hated that twitch, so I twitched back. I looked past her to the parking lot. My old Mustang was looking a bit knackered. In fact, it looked plain tired. With holes in the tires. Flat out.
“Aw, dammit, lady.”
We took her ride instead. Some foreign horse, very streamlined, lots of power underneath the hood. I drove: safer that way—she once fell asleep driving and totalled more cars than a traffic accountant at peak hour.
*****
“So, what was today all about?” I asked delicately after the server had disconnected from our table.
“Money, sex, power.”
The unholy trinity. I should have guessed. But I didn’t quite see how it applied.
“Uh, could you elaborate?”
“You’re not getting any of it.”
“Aw, lady, that’s plain mean.”
“Well, that’s the way it is.”
We sat in uncomfortable but companionable silence for a while. It was a pretty long while, since our food arrived while we were whiling away the time. It was so long and silent that I was thinking about writing a novel about hunting a white while.
“You see,” she said without preamble, “it’s all about my father’s fortune.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s a lot of money.”
“Do go on.”
“Someone’s trying to take it all. Or more than one.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I need to know, and I need to know it now!”
“Know what?”
Her steak was well-done, almost burnt. Mine was rare but not raw. I could feel a drop of the red stuff fall off the edge of my lip as she speared a little cube of hers like an Eskimo hunter making whisky on the rocks.
“Are you?”
“Am I what, lady?”
“One of those who might be trying to make off with the loot!”
To tell the truth, making off had not been on my agenda for the evening. Making up, first. Then maybe…
“Quick, answer!”
I had the feeling that she’d taken her time in the ladies’ room as an opportunity to reload. I didn’t want her to get us both banned from this place, and I’d rather a hot loin than a cold shoulder, when it comes to beef.
“Fine, fine…”
“Well?”
I looked out the window. This high up, you could see the sun set even after it had set. It looked like yellow Jello on deep blue Greek pottery.
“Uh, Suzu, do you promise not to fire that thing at me again?”
“No promises, polycyanoacrylate!”
There she was again, with the additional vocabulary. I worried about her. I worried about me. I decided to take steps. At worst, I’d only compound whatever existing offences I’d committed.
“Okay. Will you marry me?” I asked, offering her an heterocyclic ring.
“I thought you’d never ask!” she said, falling asleep in my arms.
And that is how I won a high-steaks game and we lived happily ever after.
The end.
=====
alt index