"Oh yes, it's a hell burn of a place", Eddie slurred,
"But they won't go there. Too damned weird. They say tourists are attacked
by meat bats as soon as they get into the city proper, but that's a load
of snot in my opinion. I've known quite a few people that that have gone
to the Edge, some come back with twinkles in their eyes, and others look
as if they aged forty years. They say the place changes you, and damned
if it doesn't, for good or ill." He then vomited, and proceeded to yell
and scream as if attacked by unknown horrors. But Saloru knew that he was
just wrestling with the DT's, and promptly hung up the phone. Poor bastard.
Perhaps he would die in his sleep. She checked the time, and looked around
at the passengers. That noose around the neck fashion statement was damned
odd, but other cultures have tastes that one would consider bizarre. Such
is the way of the world she supposed. She sat up and checked what little
possessions she had in the duffle bag. Extra clothes, toothbrush with toothpaste
(Bubble gum flavored), Milton Bradley's Battleship (The travel version.
Tiny little thing.), roughly $2000.00 in American money (Which she put
into her wallet), and the latest copy of The Weekly World News, which she
somehow got hooked on in Naples. The letters shrieked out in letters as
big as that odd state called Texas that she heard about.
GROSSED OUT SURGEON VOMITS INSIDE PATIENT!!(Charleston, SC) Nanny Horkheimer is suing Dr Joseph O' Brian for gross negligence, as he suddenly lost his lunch into the open incision of Nancy Horkheimer during a appendectomy. Dr O' Brian allegedly saw some sort of bizarre creature moving about in the young girl's intestines, and could not control his nausea.
"Damnest thing I ever saw," the doctor said, "It had one eye and it was covered with mauve fur. I never saw anything like that in the medical texts. It took me completely by surprise and the damned thing was so horrific that I couldn't control my bodily functions. I'm surprised I didn't have an involuntary bowel movement for God's sake." When told of the doctor's comments, Nancy broke into strange sobs, livid with impotent rage.
"What kind of ridicul..." Saloru's reading
was interrupted by a tall blonde stewardess with ample breasts and too
many teeth. Looming over Saloru, she asked in a very monotonous tone;
"Would you like a ham sandwich?"
Saloru considered it. "No thanks."
The stewardess looked at her with an odd expression
of shock. "Why?! What's wrong with it? Is it that pork thing? Are you on
of those Muslim types that can't eat ham?"
Saloru sighed, and put down her paper, turning
her head slowly to this very odd woman. "No, not at all. Actually
I'm Jewish, but I'm not into religion. Nothing er... personal, it's just
that I don't like that particular meat. I do enjoy bacon, if that eases
your mind somewhat."
The airline employee seemed to calm down a bit
after that. "Well, I'm from North Carolina, and my daddy is a hog farmer,
he raises hogs. You can make quite a bit of money raising hogs you know.
There isn't anything wrong with that, you know. Hogs aren't this dirty
animal that these Muslim types think. You would wallow in the mud
too if you didn't have any sweat glands." She stopped and smiled at Saloru,
then took her little cart and proceeded down to next row of seats.
Gah... Saloru shook her head slightly, as if to get rid of the thoughts running like rats inside her head. Americans are a rather strange bunch. Nice people, but a lot like children in a weird way. She guessed that it was their blessing and curse. She looked outside her window into the thick clouds. Flying was always a warped experience for her. She was never afraid of it, but it seemed so surreal for her. Sort of like those muffled sounds that have been going on in the seats behind her. The curiosity welled up inside her like water pressing a dam, she had to know what was happening. With an impish grin, she turned around in her seat and had a peek.
There was a blanket, spread out along the floor. Two people were under said blanket doing something intimate. She saw a female leg sticking out of the blanket, the foot resting upon one of the windows. Whoever it was had fine taste in heels. It sounded like somebody was being muffled, but it wasn't a struggling type of sound.
"MmmMmGgnnFfff..."
There was another sound, from a male no doubt."
"Shhhhhhh"
Then the leg would shudder and quake.
"MMmmMMmMMMmFFfFffffFfffffggg!!!!"
Well.... And that was that. Saloru turned back into her proper seating position, and started back on the mundane tale of the vomiting doctor. Perhaps she would get a shot of something.
Indeed, she thought. This WILL be a hell burn of a place.
...the blanket shifts as a muscular black woman crawls out from under it. She is dressed in a tan uniform with a patch at the shoulder that says "Al Amarja Customs and Immigration". The uniform does not fit well, and seems loose in some places, tight in others.
Before she puts the blanket back in place Saloru catches a glimpse of a teenage male (perhaps 16), perhaps eastern european. His outfit consists of some sort of leather bondage apparatus around his head (complete with some sort of clamp system which is currently holding his mouth open), a pair of nipple clamps that could easily function as jumper cables, and a large ball ring, studded with spikes that force him to keep his legs spread apart, despite the fact that his ankles are held together with manacles. She realizes belatedly that what she had taken for a female leg was, in fact, his.
The woman casually flicks the blanket over the young man and stares at Saloru coolly.
"Passport," she says, holding out one hand.
The woman takes the passport and begins flipping through it.
"Um, nice boy you have. Did you buy him or is he just too naughty
for his own good?" Despite herself, Sal began to giggle.
The woman's head whips up and she glares daggers. "I don't know
what you're talking about." the C&I agent replies. "Now shut
the hell up until I ask you a question, unless you want to walk home."
She absently gives a kick to the blanket, around where Sal thinks a leg might be. Given the size of the spikes on the ball ring, Sal is not surprised that there is a muffled half gag, half shriek.
"Shhhhhh," says the woman absently.
She looks back up at Sal.
"Purpose of visit?" she asks.
Sal was taken aback by the severity of the woman's voice, surely it was bad coffee that made her snap like a turtle. Perhaps she was royalty on the bad end of the stick; Sal had seen many odd punishments with the decadent gentry of the Middle East. Yahweh forbid that they should be given jobs. Airline jobs at that. It would explain the piss poor fitting of the suit, not to mention her overall mood. Then again perhaps it was simply some sort of odd role-play between herself and her playmate. Best not to ask such questions when you are over the ocean.
Sal rubbed the strap on the goggles around her neck, she assumed a relaxed posture, and when she spoke it was clear and clipped, much like a five year old going to town on your notebook with a pair of shears. "Well, I've heard quite a lot about this place, and it sounded very interesting to say the least. I figured it would be a good vacation spot, lots of action and excitement, you see. Perhaps If I like the place and it likes me I'll become a citizen of the island." Sal gently grabbed a whiskey sour from the tray of the hog advocate as she squeaked by, smiling all the while.
"Do you usually drink at immigration interviews?" the woman says, eyeing the whiskey sour. "You have a drinking problem? Feeling a little nervous huh? Hiding something maybe? You ever been in counseling? Therapy? Any history of mental illness, addiction issues, abandonment? Psychotic breaks? Time loss?"
Sal held the glass up to her face, giving it a good sniff and eyeballing her interviewer with a curious look. She then put the whiskey sour in the convienent cup holder provided by the airline. With that she beamed a nice smile. "If it displeases you that I drink, then I won't drink." She said casually, then continued. "As for nervousness, that is not the case. In fact I haven't been this relaxed in quite some time. Now as you can see I'm in fine health, I keep myself in good shape. My genetics aren't quite as admirable as yours, but I am a professional, and I do know that excess in any form leads to a body's downward spiral. As for anything to hide, I can safely say no to that question."
She paused, then continued. "No counseling nor therapy. No history of mental illness or addiction issues, unless you consider keeping oneself in shape an obsession, then you might have something there. I sadly admit that I don't know who my mother or father are, but I would like to think that I've handled that issue rather well. No psychosis. And no time loss. I haven't been picked up by the Greys, or the Plaids, or any such color of odd teeny men. The only ones that have tried are the usual types and so far the lot of them leave much to be desired. They tend to get nervous when they see me, too many muscles." Sal flexed a bicep for emphasis.
"Next broadside of questions, please. Oh, and did you frighten that
poor man a few seconds ago? He leaped up like a dog on fire and headed
straight to the bathroom."
To Be Continued...