Tuesday, September 4

how to (fail) to go to jail

there were three issues that needed the immediate attention of my (let's just come out and say it... impressive-formidable-terrifying-in-the-odysseus-sense-of-the-word-bordering-on-godlike-but-not-too-omnipotent-lets-just-say-its-like-a-very-powerful-computer-that's-a-little-obsolete) intellect.

1) i had to procure a large amount of liquids, preferably of a pleasant, yet toxic and volatile nature, to help rehydrate spajjy once i found him. then i had to conceal said liquids.

2) i had to get myself chucked into the brig.

3) i had to get us out.

apparently the trick to solving problems is to break the problem into smaller and smaller problems.

the first problem i had was that i didn't want to deal with this, so i went to zog's shop (since i'd spent so much fucking time at zargle's i needed a break) and bought myself the shittest, largest barrel of starshine i could find.

i dragged the damn thing to hangar 23 and hid behind the recycling stations. i figured since no one ever uses them i'd be safe. somehow i managed to balance the barrel on top of a stack of old-and-semi-leaking freezer cores, which would (in theory) cool down the starshine.  then i poked holes in the top and bottom of the container.

all i had to do now was lie down, open my mouth, close my eyes and wait for the ideas to flow.

i did just that. the booze was strong and cold and tasted fantastic when the cold of it hit my parched tongue. i didn't realize how thirsty i was. so i just kept drinking and drinking that cold, strong, beautiful run-off from the stars.

after a little while, the flow started to slow down, then it was just a trickle. this was unacceptable. i put a little empty canister underneath the outflow (waste not, lest ye not be wasted yourself) and started stabbing the top of the barrel to let more air in. it was a simple operation. really just a procedure. it was just to let a little air in. the barrel hardly noticed it. then everything would be back to normal.

well, it would appear that i gave too good a stabbing, because the starshine went nova, shooting out like diarrhea after a meal of improperly-de-furred-then-poached spacemonkey. the canister was overflowing, so i went down there and started drinking that shit as fast as it was coming out. my belly went turgid, my whole fucking body went turgid. i was imbued, not soaked, but permeated with starshine. i'd become half-idiot-half-liquor, a vessel, a vehicle for transporting the stuff. it somehow skipped my stomach and my liver and went straight to my cells... osmosis... suspension... a colloidal ethanol... booze held in stasis by spaceman.

well... i figured out the first problem: i had enough liquor in me to re-hydrate and terraform a dead moon. and luckily alcohol has its own special release valve: at one point, all this stuff is going to need to come out and it'll be either through my mouth or out my cock. not sure which one of those spajjy is going to prefer. i know what i'm hoping for, but i shan't tell you. it'd be uncouth.

and all i ever wanted to be was couth.

very very couth.

in many many places, being very very drunk makes it easy to get arrested. and in my past experience, this place is absolutely no exception: they'll chuck you in the brig for no fucking reason other than shitting on the pillow of the captain while he is sleeping in his own bed. that's it. nothing at all! peanuts. fascists... that's who run this joint. fucking fascists.

so imagine my surprise when, while drunkenly careening around the fancy levels, i smash up some artwork in one of their fancy restaurants, right in front of their fancy little faces and the fancy laser-truncheons of the fancy security guards with their fancy uniforms, while shout-mumbling something fancy about representation being the lowest form of aesthetics, then fully expecting a fancy beating when i see them goose-stepping in their fancy boots in a fancy way right up to fancy old me. i close my fancy little eyes and...

a whole lot of fancy ass nothing.

they just marched right on by. like they didn't see me. like they didn't see the starscape i destroyed: the animopainting of haley's comet and a bunch of fucking apes cooing over the great fireball-god in the sky, lying tattered and sparking like a broken tesla coil on the wall.


i smashed up one of their tables good. the couple just got up and left. ignoring me.

i gave another patron a ear soup-enema (bouillabaisse if memory serves) and made sure every last crostini and dried-out fish flake and drop of rouille went in that fucking ear canal of his.

he just politely blew his nose and excused himself.

something very odd was happening. it was odd that i couldn't find spajjy at zargle's. it was odd i couldn't find him in the bilge. it was odd that no one seemed to care that i was actively scooting my bare-ass along the asteroyster bar.

it was even odder still that i chose to eat one.

i tried everything.
prostituting myself: polite no-thank-yous
openly taking the laser-truncheons from the guards: they just wandered off.
beating one of the guards with his own truncheon: his buddies just dragged him away.
setting small fires on the band that was playing in the corner: they just played faster

i even tried opening the emergency airlock in the restaurant (should there be a serious fire, there's always an airlock to blow.) true, you lose most of your patrons and staff, but hey... eating out has always been dangerous. i heard some guy rubbed his ass on the raw bar. gross.

after having sent dozens of diners and wait-staff to their explosively-decompressed ends, i was certain this would cause me to be arrested. if not executed.

nope. the remaining staff cleaned up the mess and the remaining casual diners went back to their casual dining.

fist me. what's happening? is some malignant force protecting me from being arrested? protecting me from seeing spajjy? what kind of monster would keep me from justice? what entity in this whole universe would see to it that i wouldn't get what i deserved?

the universe would. that's who. motherfucker.

the god damn universe was against me. but in this case, its "against me" was actually a "for me" only that what i needed was to be arrested so that's what made this whole thing confusing.

the universe was trying to save my neck.

i don't trust it. not for one second. you can't. universes are inherently unstable, dangerous places that never have your best interest at heart. it only looks out for itself. so that means something that i am doing right now, should i succeed, would interfere with whatever the universe wants.

save spajjy? indulge revilo? what could the universe possibly care about those things.

the only thing remotely related to the ol' universe is us trying to destroy the simp. but that'll save the universe, so unless the universe is looking to kill itself, that don't make no sense neither. no ma'am.

another problem has arisen:

i really have to piss. but if i do, spajjy can't get rehydrated. we're running out of time.

if i can't get put into jail in the old-fashioned way, i'll have to improvise.

time to break in.

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