Questionable Content: A tale of Indie reflections, romance, and robots!

-Inspired by the work of Jeph Jacques; .net

-Adapted by: Coalesce Lacuna

Marten Reed idly tapped his fingers along the edge of the Xerox machine waiting for the latest insurance charts to print off. “Office Bitch huh? See if the taste of THAT coffee ever washes out of his mouth!” he muttered under his breath. “What was that Marten? Don’t mumble now” Scott inquired poking his head around doorframe from his office sipping idly at his coffee. “Uh, nothing boss; I was just thinking that the company ought to change its slogan to: InsurTech… covering its assets from North to South” Marten replied blanching. “Hmmm” Scott mused, “Not the catchiest… but, it’s a damn sight better than ‘InsurTech… We are better!’ I always thought that came off a bit snotty. I’ll bring the suggestion up in the next District Call, but you know how the bigwigs are… they’ll likely shrug the suggestion off to save the cost of updating the letterhead.” Scott ducked back into his office. “No doubt playing an NES ROM and drafting villainous plots on how to pawn off his own work on me” Marten grumbled to himself. Marten snatched up the stack of charts as the last page shot out from the printer, sighed, then slumped over to his ‘sweatbox’. An hour later, fingertips raw from paper-cuts and pulling staples he stacked the Transaction Processing System reports neatly and printed off a cover sheet. “God help us all if I forget the damn coversheet” Marten sneered as he shuffled over to slip the assembled reports in Scott’s inbox, “Probably takes all the credit himself… God I hate this job!”

Cursing in his head Marten fumbled a moment with the keys before unlocking his apartment door. Holding the door open with one foot he slipped the shoulder strap of his rucksack over his head and swung it up to the bar top counter. “Hey Pintsize, I’m Home” he announced resignedly. Waddling furiously on his round green nubs Pintsize toddled across the counter to greet Marten. “You look sad. How was your day?” Pintsize asked. Marten hung his head. “It sucked, I hate my job. After 8 hours of sending faxes, licking envelopes, and dealing with idiotic people on the phone, a guy can get pretty unhappy about his lot in life… I wish I knew what would cheer me up” he replied. Pintsize rolled his nubby arms up in his best impression of excitement “Hook me up to the monitor. I’ll download you some nice, cheerful porn!” Marten shuddered and snapped his bag shut “Ugh, that’s like masturbating in front of the family dog.” Pintsize shrugged, slightly crestfallen and settled his body back to the countertop.

“Times like these call for some serious retribution boozin’” Marten thought to himself. Checking his pockets for keys, wallet, and cell-phone he turned and announced to Pintsize with a hint of returned spirit “I’m going out to the bar. I should be back in a couple hours.” Pintsize popped back up, rolling his legs together to wobble a trifle unsteadily under him “What should I do while you’re gone?” Marten paused and squinted his eyes suspiciously “Well what do you usually do when I’m not home?” “Sometimes I calculate prime numbers, but usually I just run the SETI screensaver until I get sleepy and go into standby mode. It gets lonely by myself” Pintsize trailed off forlornly. Marten scratched his head “Don’t you have other computer friends you can talk to? You do have a wireless internet connection, you know.” Pintsize paused rolling his robotic body, like two blue eggs stacked unsteadily atop each other, back down to the countertop.

Sensing that no further response would be forthcoming Marten quipped “And look on the bright side – you don’t have to worry about drinking too much and puking for the rest of the night.” Pintsize rolled his eyes to the floor “Three-hour conversations about the latest Intel chipsets are enough to make me spew my RAM all over the place.”

Marten patted the little AnthroPC on the head consolingly. “I think what’s eating you is the same as what’s been eating me. You haven’t found anyone special since that last little fiasco with the penguin-bot have you…” Pintsize rolled his arm-nubs back and squeaked in protest “HEY! There was no way I could have known she was Linux okay! So just leave that one alone!” Marten took a cautionary step back making placating gestures. “All right, all right then. No need to get so worked up. It’s not like things have been going so well for me since Vicky.” Pintsize sunk forward apologetically “You’re right, sorry… But at least SHE didn’t turn out to be a different species!” Marten chuckled and with one last pat to Pintsize’s head turned and strolled out the door, locking up behind him. Pintsize’s gyro-motor slowly wound down as he rocked back listlessly… “Meh… I know what! I think I’ll log onto and edit the suicide helpline links to redirect to Dr. Kevorkian’s do-it-yourself site!” he cheerfully thought to himself as he pepped up and waddled back into the kitchen.

Marten swung the large oak double door open and rounded his way into the bar. The air of the room wrapped around him, full of murmurings in idle corners and the taste of stale beer. Rocking his head softly to the ‘sweet ministrations’ of the Right and Honorable Reverend Cash, he stepped over to the bar and slumped onto a faux-suede stool next to his long-time friend and fellow failure, Steve. “Hey Marten! Rough day?” Steve inquired. Marten smiled, “Yeah, Scott was being a total tool. I can’t believe he actually has the nerve to refer to me as the ‘Office Bitch’ in front of the District Manager!” Steve scratched at his chin and tilted his head quizzically “You didn’t actually…” “Damn right I did!” Marten interrupted. “$99 well spent if you ask me. I didn’t get a chance to sprinkle them on his chair like I had planned, but I think I’ve done one better!” Marten grinned maniacally. “Uh… do I even want to know?” Steve asked. Chuckling and gleefully rubbing his hands together Marten replied “In his morning coffee, I…” Marten was interrupted by a sudden spray of Guinness as Steve half-choked, half-gagged. “Throat-crabs? Oh God dude, that ain’t right… that just ain’t right” Steve protested. “Calm down, it won’t do anything to him… I just get the satisfaction of knowing he swallowed a packet of crab-larvae” Marten replied. Steve shook his head with disgust, “Whatever Marten, I just hope you know if I ever wake up one morning with the itchies for no good reason… I will kill you… I will fuckin’ kill you … GOD! I can’t believe you bought those things let alone dumped them in some dudes coffee!”

Marten flagged the bartender and ordered a Guinness for himself. Settling in, elbows propped on the bar top the two toasted to Scott’s incrustaceanated bowels and drank. Steve thought for a moment, leaned back and in a more serious tone asked “Dude, if you hate your job so much why don’t you just quit?” Marten stared gloomily into his glass “I dunno… any other place willing to hire me would probably suck just as much. I don’t know what I want to do for a living. I don’t want to go back to school, and even if I did want to I don’t know what I would study.” Marten’s words trailed off as his head turned to track an achingly beautiful girl, her soft features framed by rich mahogany hair and large liquid chestnut eyes set behind square-cut girlishly slim plastic black framed glasses. With purposeful confident strides she paced over to the far side of the bar and leaned across the bar top signaling the bartender. Marten’s eyes were unmoving, unfailing, and unflinchingly set upon her ample bosom as she teetered atop the bar, appearing to be in danger of toppling over at any moment.

With a wry look and an even drier tone Steve quipped to the back of Marten’s head “If only indie girls would pay you to stare at them but never work up the courage to actually say hello. You’d be a millionaire.” Without shifting his gaze an inch Marten retorted “I could make business cards! ‘Marten Reed, Professional Indie Ogler.’” Steve jabbed Marten in the back with his elbow and settled back into his drink. Wistfully Marten rotated his chair back into place, glanced once more at the lovely sight leaning over the bar, and then turned away and set to seeking the bottom of his glass. Intending to kill this first round quickly and sink into a considerable lush, Marten tipped the glass back drinking in long swallows. As he drained the glass and slid it across the counter to signal for another a playful and sultry voice interrupted. “So, why DO you indie boys never work up the guts to talk to girls?” Marten blinked and stared, he hadn’t registered quite yet the fact that the object of his ogle had pulled up right next to him at the bar, or that she had been listening in on their conversation… but he had the sinking feeling that when he did realize what was happening, he might well panic. His mouth dropped open; he wracked his brain trying for something, anything witty to say! “…guh?” he grunted. She smirked, and crossed her arms before exclaiming in that smooth melodious voice “It sounds like you’re only capable of stuttering unintelligibly right now, so I’ll explain myself. My name’s Faye, and I’m new in town. I don’t have any friends here yet, so I was wondering if maybe you’d want to hang out sometime. Just friends though, no romance. Does that make any sense? I just wanted to get all the awkward crap out of the way if we’re gonna be friends.”

Marten dug deep and through sheer willpower kept his gaze focused firmly at eye level. He stammered, “Well, Steve and I were just gonna head back to my place and play video games. You’re welcome to come along if you want.” Faye’s eyes brightened, her lips sliding into an easy smile “Okay, sounds like fun. Any other awkward stuff to get out of the way first?” Still being somewhat dumbstruck by the concept of such a stunning young woman accompanying him home, Marten wistfully returned her smile and blurted out without thought, “Are we allowed to lust after you in secret?” Her easy smile melted away like water draining away from a glass pane, a somewhat ominous glower remained. “If I sense any lusting, I will stab you and then poop in the wound.” she growled without a hint of humor. Both of the boys’ eyes widened with shock, “Your drawers are safe as Fort Knox.” Steve responded weakly.

The three of them settled their bills, chugging down the last of their drinks. They slipped out of the bar and into the cool night air, winding through the sporadic foot-traffic and dodging the errant bicycle. Marten felt pleasantly relaxed with the drinks in him, he always enjoyed the walk home. Glancing about at the faint glow the city always seemed to achieve in the early summer, “Lamplight off of the brick” he supposed. The silence stretched, not an awkward silence, just the calm collected silence of people enjoying where they are, and where they are going. At last they mounted the stone steps leading to the entrance of the apartment building. “Gotta pee gotta pee gotta pee” Steve chanted as he snatched the keys from Marten’s hand and raced up the stairs. “Well, I guess that makes me second in line for deflation” Faye murmured as she punched Marten in the arm before leaping up the stairs. Marten sighed, surreptitiously rubbed his arm and trotted up to the third floor.

Marten caught up to Faye on the stairs and followed her into his apartment, the door left open behind Steve’s desperate dash for relief. “So, uh, this is my place. You have ten seconds to guess my favorite color.” Marten joked as he nudged the door closed behind him. “Here’s a hint: It is the favorite color of depressed people!” Steve’s muffled voice chimed in from the bathroom over the sound of water splashing in the sink. Faye turned slowly, taking in the dark blue paint covering every visible surface, including the bathroom and kitchen. “Haha, gee could it be… blue?” she joked in reply. Her steady smiling gaze fell upon Pintsize watching interestedly from the bar-top counter.

“Ooh, you have an AntrhoPC! He’s so cute! What’s your name, little guy?” she cooed setting her fists on her hips and leaning over the little blue bot intimately. “I’m Pintsize. Nice to meet you” replied the bot rocking back on its leg-nubs to look up into her face. Whether by design or whether the small rotund bot had truly leaned as far back as he could, his gaze ended squarely upon Faye’s bosom. “I don’t blame him” Marten thought to himself. “So can you do all that crazy holographic stuff the AnthroPCs in the commercials can do?” Faye asked tilting her head a touch to the left studying his chassis. “Well, I’m a pretty basic model, so I don’t have much of that fancy stuff. This is pretty much the coolest thing I can do.” Pintsize replied. Bending his little green arm-nub he tapped the long slim green rectangle centered squarely on his chest, as his nub contacted the rectangle a curt “Beep!” sounded out. Bright green light poured out from the edges of the rectangle, with a faint whirring and clicking of unseen internal mechanics the rectangle slid out to reveal a CD-Tray. Pintsize timidly turned his eyes up to Faye to measure her reaction. After a faint gasp, Faye shrieked out, “OH MY GOD CUTEST THING EVAR!!!” Tilting his head quizzically, Marten wondered aloud “Funny, when I do that girls usually call the police.” Pintsize now beaming with pleasure turned to reply, “You don’t have my raw electromagnetism.” Marten rolled his eyes and snorted as he turned into the kitchen.

Marten stepped over to the fridge and cracked it open just enough to scan the ‘state of beverages’. “Holy crap, there’s a hot girl in my apartment. Been a while since THAT’s happened. Of course she’s not interested in me, but hey what can you do…” he mused aloud while attempting to decide between another beer or a glass of fruit juice. “You can get me a glass of water is what you can do.” Faye’s voice chimed behind Marten. With a grunt of surprise, Marten straightened stiff, and whirled to face her. “Gah! I uh duh buh YES WATER RIGHT” he stammered as his face began to flush. She turned away with a grin. He spun to the cabinet next to the fridge, grabbed a glass and filled it from the fridge dispenser. “Oh man I am such an idiot. She totally heard me talking to myself just now. Way to go, Marten you’ve made a total ass of yourself” he mused softly. Unconsciously his lips twisted briefly, and as if in afterthought added, “Speaking of asses, Faye’s got one hell of a nice-“. “I’m still right here, you know” Faye’s wry protest cut him off mid-sentence. He froze in horror, he had been certain she had turned away to go sit on the couch. “Gah! Dammit!” he cursed squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment as he turned, mortified, to offer the glass to Faye. One corner of her pouty lips curled up in a half-smile, she calmly reached out to take the glass with a smirked “Thank you.” She turned and sauntered over to the bar-top counter where she posted up to watch Steve and Pintsize battling it out on Soul Caliber.

Still flushed from embarrassment Marten decided against the beer and slouched over to lean on the back of the couch to watch as Steve decapitated Pintsize’s player on the screen for the umpteenth time. “I will destroy you at this game!” Steve crowed victoriously, Pintsize only response was to shift grumpily on the couch-cushion. The stereo wound to the end of the current disc and clacked over to the next CD. Marten found himself tapping the toe of his shoe against the frame of the couch in time with the music, “I bought a window display and married her at once…”, he melted into Schmersal’s mellow tones. Faye approached the couch nodding in time, “I like this song. Who is this?” “Enon. The guy from Braniac’s new band” Marten replied turning his head to watch Faye. She narrowed her eyes and smirked “Ah, out comes the indie cred.” “No, no, I’m just a music nerd, not some elitist hipster jerk” Marten smiled.

Steve’s thumbs swept furiously across the buttons of the controller. Steve’s character on the screen whipped around behind Pintsize’s character, thrust its jagged blade through the others chest, let go of the hilt and reached up to snap its neck with a crisp ‘POP!’. “Hah! Round one is mine!” Steve proclaimed. Marten turned back from the screen to glance over at Faye, “Hey, have you ever heard of Broken Social Scene?” Faye’s face lit up, “Yeah! Their record is totally the best of the year. They are TOTALLY rad.” Steve tilted the controller in his hands as he snapped out a particularly difficult combo, “Once again I am victorious!” Marten nodded at Faye, impressed “Wow, an indie girl who knows her shit. I thought you all just faked it to look good at shows.” Faye widened her eyes innocently, “I don’t NEED to fake it to look good” she smirked. Marten chuckled. “Face it, you’re no match for a human opponent” Steve taunted as his character stood atop Pintsize’s character beating it repeatedly in the face with the hilt of its sword. “That’s because I don’t have thumbs!” Pintsize whined pitifully, slapping awkwardly at the controller with his arm-nubs trying to break free. With a wet squelching sound the head of Pintsize’s character caved in. “Nyah!” Pintsize dropped his controller in disgust, “I’m not playing anymore unless you convince cheapskate over there to upgrade me.” Faye chuckled and patted Pintsize on the top of his head, “Well, with that… I’m off” she yawned tiredly.

Steve climbed to his feet and stretched, “Yah, it’s about that time. Marten, we still on for tomorrow?” Marten nodded in reply. Steve stepped over to the TV and shut it off, and Marten walked the two of them to the door, “’Night, kids.” “I had fun tonight. We should do this again sometime” Faye said as she waved goodbye. “You’re welcome to hang out anytime” Steve replied with a friendly smile. Marten peered out into the hall to wave goodbye one last time before pulling the door to and locking it. “Faye is nice. Is she going to be your girlfriend now?” Pintsize chirped as he scrambled back up to the counter. Marten grinned wryly, “Heh. No, she said she wasn’t interested.” Pintsize tilted his head “I’m sorry. You look disappointed.” Marten turned his eyes down to his feet and mumbled dejectedly “Yeah, I guess I am. Which is fucked up, because I should be happy to at least have made a new friend.” Pintsize bobbed up on his nubby legs, “Faye said I was cute. Maybe she’ll be MY girlfriend!” “What the hell would you do with a human girlfriend?” Marten chortled. Pintsize paused… “I would…uh…that is she could um, play with my ethernet port?” Marten’s face scrunched up in disgust, “Okay, that is sad and a little disturbing. I’m going to bed.” Shaking his head, Marten walked to his room to make his preparations for sleep

Marten yawned and blearily rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He threw the sheet off of him and swung his legs over the bedside. He paused for a moment to engage in yet another fierce yawn before standing and making his way to the bathroom. At the hiss of the shower, Pintsize powered on in a series of clicks and whirring noises. He waddled out from between the coffee-maker and the toaster and settled down to run his morning diagnostics. The sound of the shower cut off, moments later Marten stepped out to snatch his jeans and t-shirt off the floor. Giving the clothes a cautionary sniff before shrugging and pulling them on, Marten stepped over to the counter to pat Pintsize on the head. “I’ll be back later, I’m off album-hunting with Steve” he announced. Pintsize perked up hopefully “Can I come with? I can scan the discs and tell you which ones have bonus features!” Marten shook his head, “We’re headed over to Velvet Vinyl after picking up some coffee, you got me kicked out and nearly banned last time remember?” “What, they put the fire out before it got past the Techno section… hell, they should THANK me!” Pintsize protested. Marten glanced at him sideways and gathered up his keys. “I’ll be back later Pintsize” he said before locking the door behind him. “Awww… One teensy little fire and everybody gets all worked up” Pintsized moaned before rolling into the kitchen.

Marten hopped out of the passenger door of Steve’s ’82 ‘POS’ coughing fitfully. “Dude, I think that exhaust leak is dumping into the car” he said worriedly. Steve nodded nonchalant, “I know, that’s why I keep my window down.” Marten shook his head, popped the door shut, and trotted over to the café. ‘Coffee of Doom’ the sign proclaimed. The top half of a zombified monkey-head extended above the lettering on the sign as though peering down at those who entered. Marten swept through the door and hurried up to the counter before anyone could get in front of him. A pert blonde gave him a cozy smile and stepped behind the register. “Two extra-large mochas, please” Marten requested, taking the opportunity to surreptitiously admire her while she rang up the transaction. “Need the caffeine, huh? That’ll be $7.50.” she chimed beaming at him. Her lips curled into a soft smile, secretly admiring him as he was digging for change in his pocket. “This guy’s pretty cute. Rockin’ the starving emo boy look. I bet he gets all the girls” she thought to herself admiring his bright blue eyes and disheveled black hair. He pulled out a collection of loose coin and counted out the change, leaving a healthy gratuity besides, in the tip-jar. “Jesus, she’s cute. Rockin’ the fashionable without being a hipster look. I bet dudes totally hit on her all the time at work” he thought to himself. She plied him with yet another dazzling smile, “Is there anything else you need?” she asked while thinking to herself “You need to ask me out.” “I need to ask you out” he thought to himself as he murmured “Uh..nah, that’s it …” “Okay, have a nice day then…” she replied dejectedly while thinking to herself “Dammit!” “Dammit!” he thought to himself as he smiled one last time, then turned and started back for the car.

“Any luck today?” Steve asked hopefully grabbing his mocha from the carrier as Marten settled back into the passenger seat. “No luck. I keep hoping for some hint that she might be interested but… nothing” Marten replied despondently. “Never gonna change, my friend. Not until you grow a pair and learn how to swing those bad boys” Steve chattered as he pulled back out onto Main. Marten’s only reply was to roll his eyes, he leaned against the window and settled in to watch the pedestrians as they zoomed off to the music store.

Faye approached the door with her typical confident stride, ‘Coffee of Doom’ the sign proclaimed. At the door she paused to adjust the set of her necklace in the reflection of the glass before pulling the door open and sweeping inside. She popped around the counter smiling warmly in greeting to the pretty blonde behind the register. “Hi Sara, sorry I’m late. Has it been busy?” “Nah, just the usual Saturday crowd…” Sara sighed as she fiddled with the pen on top of the register. Faye smirked and observed her co-worker out of the corner of her eye, “Uh oh, sounds like that BOY you’ve been lusting for was in again.” Sara threw her hands up in desperation, “Yeah, he was. And I didn’t have the guts to ask him out, either.” “Why don’t you just talk to him?” Faye asked, pouring herself a ‘cup’o’liquid-delish’. “I dunno, he seems so shy. Like if I struck up a conversation he’d just panic and run out of the building or something” Sara replied, frowning down at the counter-top. Faye gave her a consoling pat on the shoulder, “Heh, that sounds like this guy I met last night. Nice kid, but totally awkward around girls.” Sara paused, and then made a swift grabbing motion with her arms, “What do you think would happen if I just grabbed him and raped him behind the counter next time he comes in?” Faye chuckled, “I think you would fulfill a fantasy shared by every shy, submissive boy on the planet. Rape away!” Sara joined in her laughter and the two of them set about their business, cleaning nozzles, stocking cups, and serving the ‘cuss-tumors’.

Marten hit ‘eject’ on the dashboard stereo and tucked his new John Steward Mill album into its CD-case. “See ya’ Steve!” he said over his shoulder as he pushed the passenger door shut and popped up the stairs to his apartment building. Humming a snatch of song to himself he whisked the door to his apartment open and headed straight-away to the CD-rack to make room for his newest prize. Once finished shuffling the cases about, he looked about the apartment in silence pondering what to do next. He busied himself for a moment wiping down the countertop with a dishtowel, scrubbing the scuff marks from the bar-top where Pintsize preferred to perch. Once done he reviewed his work, and sighed. “Well, there’s nothing for it” he mumbled, tossed the dishtowel towards the sink not bothering to watch where it came to rest. He adjusted the blinds and plopped down on the couch next to Pintsize.

“Whatcha watchin?” Marten asked. “Reruns of Small Wonder” Pintsize chirped in reply. Marten stared at the screen puzzled, “What? … Waaaait a minute, you mean that horrible 80’s show? No, this is not going down” Marten grumped as he grabbed the remote. He flipped through the channels considering the benefits of one show over another, until finally he settled in for some nice, brain-melting, Robot Chicken. The two slouched back into the couch cushions, their eyes reflecting the flickers and flashes as dancing pineapples beat the juice out of each other, as William Shatner cured his speech impediment by removing the stick from his ass, and as Teeny Little Super Guy pissed in a bottle of Mike’s Hard Lemonade. “What am I doing with my life?” Marten mused aloud. Pintsize glanced over briefly before turning back to the chaos on the screen, “Well, right now you’re watching Cartoon Network and moping, just like you do every Saturday afternoon.” Marten’s mouth twisted as he replied, “No, I mean what’s the point? Why do I go to a job I hate five days a week only to spend every weekend dreading the coming Monday?” “Hehe, yeah, that does sound like a pretty empty, pointless existence” Pintsize chuckled back in response. Marten turned to stare at the little rotund robot; Pintsize glanced over noting Marten’s stare and just shrugged. “You’re not helping you know” Marten sulked. “Wait, I’m supposed to be HELPING?” Pintsized replied as though the thought had never before occurred to him. Marten simply grimaced and sank back into the couch.

‘Knock Knock Knock’ Marten glanced over at the door and pulled himself to his feet. He slumped his way down the hall, perking up as he opened the door. “Oh, hi Faye...” Faye hardly let Marten finish his sentence as she chimed in with a tone that brooked no argument “I am bored and ravenous. Come have dinner with me”. Marten’s eyebrows rose quizzically for a moment before he turned, snatched his keys off the counter, flipped the light-switch, and stepped out into the hall. Pintsize, finally breaking his attention from images of Ken and GI Joe wrestling in a vat of spam, whirled his head about lazily focusing his LED eyes on the door as though drunk with randomness. “Where you goin’ Marten?” he chirped, pausing for a moment. “Marten?...” Pintsize giggled ominously before flipping the channel back to Small Wonder, hopping down off of the couch, and skittering into the kitchen.

Marten was enjoying the tickling chill of the early autumn air as it rolled slowly by in lazy billows. Though his skin prickled in goose bumps whenever a particularly strong gust stirred the random scraps of paper and the lonely plastic bag skittering down the dimly lit brick façade lining the street, he was glad he had left his coat behind. It was pleasant, refreshing, to pass under the evening lights at a slow stroll, savoring the transition from summer. Marten glanced over at Faye as she skipped off the curb to crunch flat a patch of leaves collected in the gutter as they passed. His head tilted to the side as he tried to settle his thoughts and collect his wits. He felt comfortable here, passing from one pool of light to another, next to Faye. He drew his breath once again intending to say something, anything would do. But as before, when she glanced up and smiled, he grinned softly in return and silently dropped his eyes back to the pavement.

‘ringringring’, “Woops, cell phone.” Faye announced as she drew the phone from her back pocket. Not bothering to check the screen for the incoming number, she whisked her hair aside and pressed the phone to her ear. Faye answered the phone with a direct “Hello?” and after a pause continued on, “Oh, hey mom. Nothing much, just going out’ to dinner with a friend. Yes, a boy. No, it’s not a date. NO, I didn’t bring the tazer. Mom, he’s not a serial rapist, he’s a nice guy. Okay I have to go. Bye mom.” As the conversation progressed, Marten’s brows drew up in consternation. As Faye tucked the phone into back pocket Marten quipped, “Wow, is your mom always that concerned with your personal safety?” Faye’s lip quirked up in a wry smile, “You’re lucky she’s not here in person. You’d have been maced for walking so close to me.”

As they rounded the corner into the Arts District the light-poles changed to faux gas-lamps modeled in a late 19th-century style. The pools of light clustered closer together, illuminating the changing style of advertising as well. ‘Buy Some Crap!’ proclaimed a bright yellow starburst in the corner of a shop window. A poster below announced in hand-scrawled lettering, ‘Merchandise is most certainly on sale here!’ Faye continued to bounce in and out of the gutter, trampling any cans or leaves, kicking stray rocks to skip across the road. As they split to pass around one of the lamp-posts Faye fixed her eyes on Marten with an impish grin. “Hey, wanna see my patented method for getting someone’s attention?” she asked. Marten grinned briefly and shrugged, “Okay, sure.” Faye flourished one hand, as though preparing for a magician’s trick, and then tightening her eyes as with great effort, she reached forward and viciously clamped her thumb and forefinger over Martens nipple through his shirt. “OW!” he exclaimed stiffening up onto his toes in shock. With a slight twist she released him; he sank back to his heels clutching his chest as if mortally wounded. “Jesus Christ, whatever happened to a gentle tap on the shoulder?” he complained loudly. “It is impossible to ignore a girl that has your nipple in her vicelike grip.” she chirped in reply with an amused grin. Marten growled still clutching his chest and stomped off ahead down the street. “Hey wait up!” Faye called out and scrambled to catch up.

Marten eyed her sideways as she caught up, vowing to himself to leave no nipple unguarded around this particular heathen. Faye grinned and spread her hands in mock apology. Marten glowered and rolled his eyes. Faye giggled in response, and Marten surprised himself by joining in her laughter and grinning back at her. After a moment’s silence, Faye asked “So, where are we going to eat?” Marten beamed, having relished the chance to reveal this particular twist. “Have you ever been to the Irony Café? It’s really good. They advertise as a ‘vegan’ restaurant but serve steak and hamburgers.” Marten proudly replied making air-quotes with his fingers when referring to the Café as a ‘vegan’ restaurant. “That is both amazing and brilliant. Faye congratulated, truly impressed with the sadistic irony presented by Marten’s selection for the evening. “You should see the horrified looks on hippies’ faces when they read the menu!” Marten gloated. Faye grinned and smacked a balled up fist into her palm, “Hit ‘em where it hurts- in their pretentious misguided, personal politics!” she chortled obviously agreeing.

Faye and Marten rounded the metal handrail and hopped up the steps, both relishing the thought of a good meal and some evening entertainment. They pulled open the rustic double-door, complete with brass fittings and a thick slab of semi-warped glass in the middle, and shuffled up to the hostess station. The Purple haired waitress turned back for just a moment from a booth half-way down the narrow row where she was taking an order, long enough to nod amicably and give a half-wave indicating that she would be there momentarily to seat them.

Over the cracked leather seat-back of the booth they could see the gnarled cords of blonde dreadlocks piled atop the patron’s head. “I can’t believe you people serve lobster here!” the patron’s voice carried angrily down the rows. “Boiling them alive in their shells…it’s cruel and disgusting!” The waitress’ face tightened momentarily, and then with shoulders sinking resignedly, as though thinking she shouldn’t have expected anything else, she turned on her heel and stalked down the row of booths, turning at the end to disappear through a set of large grey double-doors. “Obviously back into the kitchen”, Marten thought to himself noting the din of clashing pans and the rattle of silverware, as found in veritably every busy restaurant kitchen. “That’s right, walk away you filthy animal torturer! Go free those innocent animals that you are exploiting!” shouted the militant VegaNazi after the retreating waitress, pumping his fist in the air.

The patron twisted back around on his booth seat, again facing away from the entrance. A moment or so later the waitress emerged from the kitchen, carrying a silver platter and an ornately worked plate cover. She stalked grimly up the rows, barely pausing to nod distractedly as she passed Marten and Faye waiting patiently by the door. The waitress’ heels tapped out an insistent march as she determinedly strode up to the blonde-headed ‘defender of the trees’ and whipped back the plate cover just as she tipped the plate down towards the patron’s head. “Here, I freed this one. He’s all yours.” she snarled as the glistening lobster, still dripping from being pulled out of the tank, slid off the plate and plopped soggily into the patron’s ‘rat’s nest’ of hair. Though all Faye or Marten could see over the top of the booth-seat was a mess of now sodden hair twitching with the violent motions of the obviously disturbed lobster, there was a sense of the patron stiffening in horror. “AAA GETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFF!!!” squealed the young man as he dashed down the rows towards the exit slapping erratically at his hair. Faye and Marten ducked back against the wall as the patron crashed through the doors screeching unintelligibly at this point, both quite stunned to see the poor lobster yet in tow as it had quite viciously latched onto a dreadlock, and as though with a death grip maintained its perch on the back of the VegaNazi’s head.

16.

Marten and Faye turned back towards the waitress and collapsed against each other, giggling furiously. The waitress calmly replaced the plate cover and settled the platter back against the booth table, then turned smiling as she strode up to the hostess station. “Bravo!” Faye cheered. The waitress’ grin widened as she made two curt mock bows to either side, gesturing her arm as though to an adoring crowd. “Table for two?” she inquired as she straightened. “Yep yep.” Marten confirmed. The waitress seated them several rows back from where the VegaNazi had been defeated, snugly tucked against a polished table and plush chairs, both in better shape than the booths closer to the front. They perused the menu, amiably pointing out favorite dishes to one another. When the waitress returned they placed their orders and sank back into their seats. Faye was leaned back, coolly surveying the foot traffic passing along the pavement, Marten nervously chewed his lip and frittered with his fingers. Soon enough, the waitress returned once again, this time to drop off the Big Kahuna Burger and the Royale with Cheese as ordered. Faye hunkered down on the burger like a jungle-cat crowding its kill. She peeled back the bun and after applying generous slathers of ketchup and mustard she scattered a half-handful of thick fries atop the pineapple glazed turkey-burger patty before tamping the bun back down atop the mound.

Marten

Work in Progress...

*Important note: A vast portion of the work above is drawn directly from the pages of Jeph Jacques’ beloved WebComic – Questionable Content – In truth, the internal dialogue and the transitions between scenes are the only portions I can claim any creative contributions to. Thank you Jeph, your work has brought me to tears with laughter on many an occasion..net