Biomechanical Withdrawal
Continuation of Misadventures of Thomas Lockbottom: Magician and Swashbuckler Extraordinaire
"Pleathe, Mithter Lockbottom, you mutht underthtand that our athothiation needth a man of your thkillth to conquer thith foul beatht. You'd be doing a thervithe for all thothiety."
It was a good thing that my face was already beet-red from the burn, otherwise I might have to explain why I would suddenly turn that color as Mr. Silent kept talking. I tried my best to pinch off my amusement, in fear that if I laughed he might stop, possibly allowing my boredom to return. "And what *choke*... skills would these be?"
"We've been told that you've handled these kinds of things befo-" The Talker started in.
"Nu-uh," I interrupted, "I asked him." pointing at Mr. Silent.
Mr. Silent grimaced, "You told uth at the bar that you've handled thethe kindth of thingth before."
"Lies, all off it, I'm sure.... Repeat after me: She sells seashells by the seashore."
"Fuck you." The Talker growled, "If you aren't going to help us then-"
"Hey hey hey big guy. You were obviously born to play the strong-silent type, so try not to disrupt the natural order of things." I spoke sternly. "Besides, who said I'm not going to help?"
"I'm not a thourthe of entertainment, Mithter Lockbottom. We take our jobth very theriouthly."
The next sound I heard was a quiet yet audible pop, then the thunderous explosion of laughter rolling from my lips. Theriouthly, it doesn't get better than that. "OK, you guyth can go now."
"But you jutht thaid you'd help uth!" Mr. Silent whined.
"Not quiet... but since you are not willing to make this a mutually beneficial relationship, I must insist you leave." I replied trying to catch my breath.
The Talker started heading toward the door, his face visibly smeared with disappointment. Mr. Silent held up his hand to stop him, straightened his posture, and spoke, "She thellth theashellth by the theashore."
Interestingly, that paled in comparison to 'theriousthly', but it was amusing enough. "Ah, that's more like it. Please, re-accept my hospitality."
The Talker turned back to his chair and sat, "You're a bastard."
"Remember strong and silent. Speaking of which, I need to know what I should call you since the names I picked out for you can't work anymore."
"My name is Hol-"
"Strong and silent!" I glared, pointing at soon-to-not-be Mr. Silent.
"My name ith Idle, hith ith Holden."
Damn, that was boring. "OK, Mr. Idle, what exactly do you need from me?"
"We'd like you to help dethtroy thith cult of Meuheuhah."
"Uh-huh." It then occurred to me that these two might be completely bat-shit crazy. "Why?"
Idle stood there staring at me blankly as if I had asked why the sky was blue. "Becauthe! They're evil! You mutht know that!"
"Right.... so what makes them any more evil than that bright, smiling, son-of-a-bitch floating in the sky outside my house?"
Both Holden and Idle looked at me curiously. I responded by pointing at my sunburn.
Holden stood again and looked at Idle. "We are obviously wasting our time. We're sorry for disturbing you, Mr. Lockbottom. We'll let ourselves out." He started toward the door once again. This time Idle joined him. "Obviously, this isn't the man we need for this mission."
I simply sat in the now vacant chair Holden had just gotten out of. "That's not gonna work either."
"What?!" Holden stopped in his tracks and turned to glare at me. "You have more to say, you crazy asshole?!" Apparently I struck a nerve somewhere during the conversation.
"I said, 'That's not gonna work either', referring to your attempt to coerce me into helping you by refusing me." I lit a cigarette.
"That's right... it's all about you. How foolish of me." Holden raised his voice. "I'm leaving now." He reached for the knob to the front door.
I smiled
The knob refused to turn.
"It is all about me. Didn't you know that?" I stood, reaching above my head for my cutlass. "Haven't you ever heard of narrative theory?"
Holden continued to work at the knob while Idle simply stood there watching me intently.
"You see, I'm the hero... and in every hero's life he gets roped into this ridiculous quest that only results in frustration, boredom, and in the end, there's little pay-off."
"You're insane." Holden growled, visibly straining against the door.
"Yea yea, I know. But what you might not realize is that I've already had my story; I've already fulfilled my quest." I sat back down, cutlass in hand. "And you know what? I don't need another one. They fucking suck. Are you listening to me?"
Idle nodded slightly. Holden stopped trying to open the door and released his grip on the knob, which was now completely crushed. Turning back to me, he snarled, "Then what's the point? Why bother continuing on if you're just going to avoid any 'plot'?"
I shrugged. "For the whiskey.." I took another drag of my cigarette.
Holden chuckled sardonically, "Then we've truly wasted your time coming here."
"Well, it was good for a laugh." I chuckled in return. Idle hung his head. "You can go now."
The door silently popped open.
Holden swung the door wide and stormed out, grumbling. Idle motioned toward the door, then stopped and raised his head to look at me. He removed the pamphlet and a book from his pocket. "Pleathe reconthider, Mithter Lockbottom. It could be a grand adventure."
"These things rarely are, sir. Besides, I prefer adventures of my own choosing." I stood, swinging my cutlass across the back of my neck. "You should go. You are no longer welcome."
Idle placed the reading material on the stand next to the door and sullenly followed Holden.
"Pleathe, Mithter Lockbottom, you mutht underthtand that our athothiation needth a man of your thkillth to conquer thith foul beatht. You'd be doing a thervithe for all thothiety."
It was a good thing that my face was already beet-red from the burn, otherwise I might have to explain why I would suddenly turn that color as Mr. Silent kept talking. I tried my best to pinch off my amusement, in fear that if I laughed he might stop, possibly allowing my boredom to return. "And what *choke*... skills would these be?"
"We've been told that you've handled these kinds of things befo-" The Talker started in.
"Nu-uh," I interrupted, "I asked him." pointing at Mr. Silent.
Mr. Silent grimaced, "You told uth at the bar that you've handled thethe kindth of thingth before."
"Lies, all off it, I'm sure.... Repeat after me: She sells seashells by the seashore."
"Fuck you." The Talker growled, "If you aren't going to help us then-"
"Hey hey hey big guy. You were obviously born to play the strong-silent type, so try not to disrupt the natural order of things." I spoke sternly. "Besides, who said I'm not going to help?"
"I'm not a thourthe of entertainment, Mithter Lockbottom. We take our jobth very theriouthly."
The next sound I heard was a quiet yet audible pop, then the thunderous explosion of laughter rolling from my lips. Theriouthly, it doesn't get better than that. "OK, you guyth can go now."
"But you jutht thaid you'd help uth!" Mr. Silent whined.
"Not quiet... but since you are not willing to make this a mutually beneficial relationship, I must insist you leave." I replied trying to catch my breath.
The Talker started heading toward the door, his face visibly smeared with disappointment. Mr. Silent held up his hand to stop him, straightened his posture, and spoke, "She thellth theashellth by the theashore."
Interestingly, that paled in comparison to 'theriousthly', but it was amusing enough. "Ah, that's more like it. Please, re-accept my hospitality."
The Talker turned back to his chair and sat, "You're a bastard."
"Remember strong and silent. Speaking of which, I need to know what I should call you since the names I picked out for you can't work anymore."
"My name is Hol-"
"Strong and silent!" I glared, pointing at soon-to-not-be Mr. Silent.
"My name ith Idle, hith ith Holden."
Damn, that was boring. "OK, Mr. Idle, what exactly do you need from me?"
"We'd like you to help dethtroy thith cult of Meuheuhah."
"Uh-huh." It then occurred to me that these two might be completely bat-shit crazy. "Why?"
Idle stood there staring at me blankly as if I had asked why the sky was blue. "Becauthe! They're evil! You mutht know that!"
"Right.... so what makes them any more evil than that bright, smiling, son-of-a-bitch floating in the sky outside my house?"
Both Holden and Idle looked at me curiously. I responded by pointing at my sunburn.
Holden stood again and looked at Idle. "We are obviously wasting our time. We're sorry for disturbing you, Mr. Lockbottom. We'll let ourselves out." He started toward the door once again. This time Idle joined him. "Obviously, this isn't the man we need for this mission."
I simply sat in the now vacant chair Holden had just gotten out of. "That's not gonna work either."
"What?!" Holden stopped in his tracks and turned to glare at me. "You have more to say, you crazy asshole?!" Apparently I struck a nerve somewhere during the conversation.
"I said, 'That's not gonna work either', referring to your attempt to coerce me into helping you by refusing me." I lit a cigarette.
"That's right... it's all about you. How foolish of me." Holden raised his voice. "I'm leaving now." He reached for the knob to the front door.
I smiled
The knob refused to turn.
"It is all about me. Didn't you know that?" I stood, reaching above my head for my cutlass. "Haven't you ever heard of narrative theory?"
Holden continued to work at the knob while Idle simply stood there watching me intently.
"You see, I'm the hero... and in every hero's life he gets roped into this ridiculous quest that only results in frustration, boredom, and in the end, there's little pay-off."
"You're insane." Holden growled, visibly straining against the door.
"Yea yea, I know. But what you might not realize is that I've already had my story; I've already fulfilled my quest." I sat back down, cutlass in hand. "And you know what? I don't need another one. They fucking suck. Are you listening to me?"
Idle nodded slightly. Holden stopped trying to open the door and released his grip on the knob, which was now completely crushed. Turning back to me, he snarled, "Then what's the point? Why bother continuing on if you're just going to avoid any 'plot'?"
I shrugged. "For the whiskey.." I took another drag of my cigarette.
Holden chuckled sardonically, "Then we've truly wasted your time coming here."
"Well, it was good for a laugh." I chuckled in return. Idle hung his head. "You can go now."
The door silently popped open.
Holden swung the door wide and stormed out, grumbling. Idle motioned toward the door, then stopped and raised his head to look at me. He removed the pamphlet and a book from his pocket. "Pleathe reconthider, Mithter Lockbottom. It could be a grand adventure."
"These things rarely are, sir. Besides, I prefer adventures of my own choosing." I stood, swinging my cutlass across the back of my neck. "You should go. You are no longer welcome."
Idle placed the reading material on the stand next to the door and sullenly followed Holden.