He remember almost nothing about what happened to him after he got into the airport. Actually, he probably remembers quite a bit, but what with all that mescaline in his system, how much resemblance it bears to objective reality is open to question. The D'Aubainne International Airport is a very surrealistic place even for those without altered brain chemistries, and most people shudder when they think about what it would be like in an altered state.
"Almost nothing" may not be quite accurate; he does remember something. He remembers very clearly having a sexual encounter with someone not of his preferred sexual gender. Not only was this person not particularly attractive (flabby, balding, considerably older than Nigel, sweated copiously) but also wore a harness all during the encounter. This harness held a live dachshund, which peered over the partner's shoulder continuously during the encounter. This is NOT a pleasant memory.
Nigel sits up in his bed and stares at the room around him. The mescaline is still in full effect, causing the room to take on a colorful, almost funhouse quality. He turns to look at the lamp on the nightstand which seems to be doing a rendition of "Riverdance" or something similar. It is quite good actually...
After a brief conversation with the clock radio, Nigel decides to risk standing up. It is quite an adventure, the command from his brain to his legs takes several detours before arriving at its destination. His legs steadfastly refuse to give in to the brain's demands, and enter into negotiations with the brain. The brain reminds the legs that without its aid, they aren't much more than a glorified rump roast. The legs tell the brain to go to hell, that now it would have to apologize and ask nicely.
After what seems to Nigel to be several hours (it is actually about two minutes), the legs concede and he stands up. He walks over to the sink and splashes some water on his face, avoiding looking in the mirror at all costs. The water helps him get a handle on his drug haze and he begins looking for some sort of hotel services brochure. Tripping always makes him hungry...
Into "Riverdance" comes the not-so-soothing strains of "The Tragically Hip" doing "Butts Wigglin'"
The sweet sound of patent approval
comin' down in a not quite fog
The sweet sound of patent approval
comin' down in powdery sparks
The sweet sound of patent approval
comin' down with holiday concern
The sweet sound of patent approval
comin' down in a world of hurtIn my opinion the drug is ready1
Try as he might, Nigel can't seem to figure out where the music
is coming from. This isn't particularly unusual, but it IS annoying,
as he was just getting into "Riverdance" and really wishes whoever it is
would shut up until the damned lamp is finished.
It is also rather annoying that the hotel, likely in order to save money, replaces the water in the taps with Jell-O at night. Jell-O is much harder to splash on your face, and leaves things all sticky. It isn't even GOOD Jell-O, like strawberry. Its that awful glow-in-the-dark lime Jell-O that always gets served in institutions like hospitals, drug rehabilitation centers, and wards for the criminally insane. Nigel HATES that Jell-O, though he isn't quite sure why.
On his way into the main sitting room (this hotel room is bigger than he is used to, and actually has more than two rooms in it) Nigel stumbles over something big and heavy in the darkness. His legs, who have been waiting for just such a moment, make a quick deal with his inner ear, which announces that it will not get involved in the current negotiations between legs and brain, and promptly goes on holiday. As he watches the floor tilt upwards to meet him, Nigel distinctly hears his legs screaming "Eat it up, brain baby!" in a gleeful tone of voice. Then there is a loud "thud", and his nose begins screaming "OUCH! GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKER LEGS! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOUR ASS!" while Nigel's slightly crossed eyes begin examining the pattern in the carpet.
Nigel looks straight ahead and thinks to himself "That's odd, I don't remember the wall being covered in fur."
He has a momentary flash of vertigo when he looks down and sees he is stuck about four feet up on the wall before he realizes he is lying face down on the carpet.
This presents him with a whole new set of problems.
He glances around the room, trying to find something that he can decide is solid and real. He sees the twin to the lamp in the bedroom, this one seems to be something of a salesman and is trying to impress upon Nigel the virtues of dehydrated food or some such thing. He manages to get to a chair where he sits and tries to collect what passes as his thoughts. They are elusive bastards, but he manages to catch a few here and there, although they aren't necessarily the kind of thoughts that one would WANT to remember.
He remembers someone fat and sweaty doing something to him not at all pleasant. He shudders when he remembers his little incident and wonders if the rest of his trip will go the same way. He also feels a great hatred for daschunds but he doesn't know why... He has come to Al Amarja to see if the things he has heard about it were true. If they are, he hopes to find another key to helping him unlock the secret to fully using the "art". He looks down at the carpet, upon which several miniture television sets are showing reruns of the Bob Newhart show...
The trip continues...
1) The front of his face is wet, and some of the liquid seems to be leaking into his mouth. It tastes vaguely like saltwater taffy, but not so sweet.
2) The reason that he notices the liquid getting into his mouth is that it seems to be getting increasingly difficult to breathe through his nose.
3) Nigel appears to have tripped over a fully grown man, who is lying naked on the sitting room floor. He is lying more or less spread-eagled, and his body is covered with all sorts of interesting carvings, tattoos, piercings, insects, and kitch. Someone seems to have laid out a complex pattern in some sort of powder around the man, but someone walked through it and obliterated much of the design. The man does not appear to be fat or sweaty, nor do there appear to be any daschunds about. His face, particularly around the nose, is covered with some sort of red goo that reminds Nigel somehow of saltwater taffy, but red.
4) Somewhere far away, just on the edge of Nigel's hearing, someone sounds to be beating some sort of stringed instrument to death with a large hammer.
Nigel tries to wipe the goo away with a corner of his bedspread (Is this part of the trip? he wonders) and waits until the world stops doing jumping jacks before examining the man laying on the ground. After giving he corpse the onceover, Nigel (still tripping, but starting to come down due to the very unamusing set of circumstances) tries to determine the direction the dying string instrument noises are coming from.
As Nigel tries to get the goo off his face (he keeps wiping it away, but more keeps appearing, as if by magic), but before he can do much more, the stringed instrument resolves itself into a ringing telephone next to his head.
The world is still doing jumping jacks, however.
Also, for the first time, Nigel realises that there is something next to the naked man - some sort of smaller circle in which some smaller creature (perhaps a rodent of some kind???) seems to be lying. The rodent has been completely eviscerated, and bits of its guts are lying all over the floor.
It does not appear to be a dachsund.
ring, ring.
Ring, Ring.
Ring! Ring!
RING! RING!
RING! RING!
RING! RING!
Nigel finally figures out the source of the ringing. He looks at the ringing device on the nightstand and vaguely remembers that it is some sort of communication device. A TELEPHONE!! That's what it is!! He tries unsuccessfully to wipe more of the goo off his face and dares to pick up the receiver.
"Yes?" he speaks into the receiver waiting to hear a reply...
The voice on the other end says, "Mr. Dart? There is a Miss Ordilescu down here at the front desk. I understand that you are her guardian. Should I send her up?"
They Might Be Giants starts playing "Your Own Worst Enemy" from the other room. Nigel doesn't remember buying a ticket for the concert.
The dead rodent starts screaming "MAMA! MAMA! MAMA!"
Nigel stares at the phone as if he expects it to change into a toad or something (not entirely impossible he thinks) before speaking into the receiver again...
"Dart?......... um........ who?............ I'm not....... who is this again? I'm afraid you have the wrong man...... my name's ......... um.................. what? who is this?.............. this it Timmons here..... who are you?"
IT'S YOUR OWN WORST ENEMY,There is a long pause. Nigel can hear the ocean, and checks to make sure that the phone hasn't turned into a seashell or something.
RINGING THE BELL AT THE DOOR.
"This is the front desk. Is Mr. Dart there please?"
"MAMA! MAMA! MAMA!" cries the rodent
AND YOUR OWN WORST ENEMY PEEKS INSIDEThe naked man on the floor moans slightly.
AND SEES YOU SOFTLY WEEPING
More goo is accumulating on Nigel's face, and it now seems completely impossible for him to breathe through his nose.
AND THE SONG THEY PLAYSomeone or something is knocking on the front door.
IS THAT GUY WITH THE MESSED-UP FACE
PRECIOUS AND FEW ARE THE MOMENTSNigel looks towards the door. This is all starting to seem like a bad dream, and is definitely ruining his trip. He tries in vain to clear the goo from his nose, decides "What the hell," and wobbles over and opens the door.
THAT YOU AND YOUR OWN WORST ENEMY SHARE
FULL BOTTLE IN FRONT OF MENigel staggers over and opens the door, sloshing through the liquid carpet to do so.
TIME TO ROLL UP MY SLEEVES
AND GET TO WORK
A rather nondescript young man stands there. He's dressed in dark leather pants and jacket, and is wearing dark motorcycle boots. Without a word he hands Nigel a package, turns, and begins walking off down the hallway.
"MAMA! MAMA! MAMA! I WANT MY MAMA!" screams the rodent.
"Hello? Hello?" comes the voice from the telephone.
Nigel notices that some of the goop from his face seems to be getting on the package. Also, his nose picks this moment to scream "You jackass! I'm BROKEN!!! DO SOMETHING FOR CHRISSAKES! This fucking HURTS!"
"MAAAAAAMAAAAAAA!" wails the rodent.
*CLICK* goes the telephone.
SINGING PRECIOUS AND FEW ARE THE MOMENTSNigel wonders what the fuck his nose is talking about when it gives him a giant throb of pain and he finally gets it!! He yells at the bawling rodent to "SHUT YOUR FUCKING HOLE!!" and then sits down on the bed and looks at the phone. He wonders why it's off the hook. Was he going to call somebody? He wanders to the bathroom and grabs a washcloth to hold to his nose. "Damn, if I only had one more hit...." He sits back down on the bed and examines the package. He then throws caution to the wind and unwraps the package.
THAT YOU AND YOUR OWN WORST ENEMY SHARE
AND AFTER MANY GLASSES OF WORK
I GET PAIN IN THE BRAIN
"BAGATI-AS PULA-N GIT DE POPONAR!" the rodent screams in return,
in what sounds like some sort of slavic language, "FUTUTI PIZDA MATI!"
Opening the package is difficult because the string that wraps it keeps tangling itself around Nigel's fingers, but eventually he gets it open. Inside are 1) some sort of identification lapel card (the kind that clip on) with some guy's picture on it, 2) a cellular telephone, 3) a pager, 4) a small handgun.
Nigel notices that his nose is hurting more, and that the room is melting less.
Horror of horrors, the mescaline is WEARING OFF (ohdeargodno!)
Nigel studies the ID card to see if he can figure out what the fuck it means. He stuffs the cellphone in his jacket pocket, what the hell, you never know when you're going to need to make a call!! His nose is fully awake now and is throbbing in time to the music, which Nigel thinks is rather rude... He hears the rodent making some unintelligible remarks and decides to go over and see if he can't shut the little fucker up!! He walks over and peers down at the thing.
The dead rodent falls silent as Nigel approaches, and watches with frightened eyes. As he gets closer, Nigel can clearly see that the thing has been eviscerated. Guts are lying everywhere. YEECH! The creature is about the size of a small raccoon.
"I just want my mama," it says sorrowfully.
Nigel's examination is cut short as someone starts rattling a key in the lock of the front door.
Nigel looks towards the door and back at the rodent. He gets up , and decides it might not be the best idea if someone walked in on this scene. "Who is it?" he asks as he leans on the door and tries to peek through the peephole...
A voice answers from beyond the door: "Kurt Cobain. I was just assigned this room. Are you just moving out?" The person on the other side tries to open the door, but Nigel's weight prevents the door from opening.
"Mama?" says the rodent.
Nigel stops for a moment. Kurt Cobain? Why does that name sound familiar? "I'm still in here, they must have gotten your room mixed up. Why don't you go down to the front desk and see what the deal is?" Nigel looks at the body of the man, hoping against hope that he is showing some signs of life. At the same time, he tries to ignore the talking rodent...
The guy on the floor groans softly and twitches a bit. At the same time the rodent says, with no little satisfaction, "Mama's coming," and transforms into a mangled teddy bear. Said bear appears to have been cut open and had most of the stuffing ripped out and scattered around.
Gentle pressure on the door also tells Nigel that somebody is trying to push it open from the other side.
Nigel is glad to hear the man breathing and finally relents and opens
the door. "Good, you're here. I came to and found this man
lying unconcious on the floor. Mabye you can help me get him onto
the bed, and have the hotel doctor check him out? Good. Well,
don't just stand there, give me a hand." With that, Nigel grabs the
arm of the visitor and ushers him over to the man on the floor, trying
very hard not to notice the talking teddy bear/rodent.
Inside the hotel room, the visitor is treated to an absolutely apalling scene. On the floor of the sitting room lies a completely naked man. William Levine vaguely recognizes him from the waiting room. Wasn't he the one that dreadful brat glommed onto? His body has been painted in strange symbols, and he seems to be lying in the middle of some sort of mystic symbol laid out in chalk or some other white substance on the carpet. Many of these symbols have been obliterated, however, apparantly by someone walking over them repeatedly. Next to the man is a smaller circle in better shape, and inside of it lies an eviscerated teddy bear. Someone cut it open and scattered te stuffing widely about. There is blood on the floor and blood spattered in various locations around the room - not in horrifying quantities, but enough to let William know that the guy with the crooked nose has been wandering around the room bleeding on things.
The door shuts behind Levine.
"Wait a moment. We'd better leave him where he is. If he's hurt badly, we might make things worse by jerking him around up on top of the bed. At least he's lying flat," Levine says, stepping around the horrible scene with more nonchalance than he feels. He picks up the telephone and dials '0', assuming that this will get the hotel operator.
"Suit yourself. I would like to know just what the hell is going on here, I mean one minute I'm on a plane and.... um...... huh? Did you say something?" The man looks at his new companion with a distracted, far-away look on his face. "Huh? oh yes, I mean, someone broke my nose and all, and.... Just who the hell are you anyway?"
"Brandon Cohn." Levine says. "The hotel gave me this room."
As William picks up the telephone, there is a brisk knock on the door. "Hotel security, open the door please," says a female voice from outside.
"Maybe you better get the door," Levine says.
"Yes, I suppose you're right... I'm afraid I don't pose a very good image, shirt covered in blood and all do I, well, can't help it now..." Nigel gets up and walks over to the door to let the security guard in.
As attention turns from the knock of hotel security, William and Nigel notice that the butt-naked, symbol-clad body that once lay dormant upon the enshrined carpet has risen. Standing under his own power the body stands, baring all the God hath given, staring in the general direction of the door.
Before anyone can react, the entire group, both inside and outside the hotel door, is suddenly stunned into immobility by a high-pitched, high-decibel shriek of the sort normally reserved for science-fiction sonic stunners and small children.
"TEDDDDDDDDDDYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!"
There is a blur of motion from around the level of the adult's kneecaps, and a small form ricochets off the security guard, banks off the door, and rockets past Nigel and into the room, still screaming at the top of her lungs!
Nigel just manages to get out of the way before the screaming blur knocks him off his feet. He looks out at the woman in the black uniform and takes a deep breath before saying (quite loudly) "WILL SOMEBODY TELL ME WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON? I come from being interrogated by your airport lackeys, to waking up blood stained and swolen in a hotel room that this gentleman claims is his!!" Nigel gestures towards the man currently calling the front desk.
Nigel is a mess. His shirt is soaked with what appears to be his
own blood, his nose is swollen and seems to be perched on his face at an
odd angle, his hair looks as if he has recently received an electric jolt,
and his mood perfectly fits the way he looks.
To Be Continued...