The History of Gin
or
A Fox's Tail
Is Life Existential? You Decide.
by ' Colorado ' Gumi
...I n s p i r e d By T r u e E v e n t s...
Chapter 7
Thanks for the Memories
Partis Duos
(see Part I) ...Fortunately for Gin sea captains invariably are proud of their vessels and the captain of this ship lunged at any opportunity to show it off and brag. In no time at all he was escorting his distinguished passenger, a balding Roman Senator named Donalcus Trumpio, through the ship. As the pair strutted below deck between the rows of oars the Senator fancied he recognized someone seated beside a particularly stupid-looking Greek... ...Gin Ben-Her, buck-naked but for a rag stylishly draped low at the hips, had just started to break a sweat sweeping an oar in time to the catchy two-note tune played loudly on the big drum by a hugely barrel-chested guy when a guard approached, removed her chains and escorted her to a cabin in the First-Class section of the ship (where she'd thought she belonged all along). Skillfully guided through the doorway by a rude kick to the bum, Gin blinked at the occupant as he motioned her to draw closer.
A few questions confirmed Trumpio's suspicion that Gin, indeed, was related to his old college roommate at Athens University, ol' Ken Ben-Her, Gin's father -- Several years ago Ken journeyed with a large caravan to Parthia where he disappeared and was figured dead (originating the popular catch phrase "They Killed Kenny!"). With much batting of brown eyes and shaking of luxuriant tresses Gin explained her current predicament; which Trumpio waved off as the merest trifle. Swearing a massive oath that in her place he would have heaved Mullincles at Phallus, the Senator gave every indication that Gin's life soon would resume its prior positive track. While telling Gin about the time her father had gotten a particularly nerdy underclassman named Archimedes drunk and sold him into slavery a commotion broke out all about the ship. Rushing to the top deck Trumpio and Gin saw the ship was swarming with Sicilian pirates. Six of the thugs immediately fell upon the Senator with every intention of killing him and, incidentally, ending the prospect of Gin's restoration. She also saw the pirates were looting the ship's cargo, large crates of Victoria's Specialis merchandise, her favorite knickers. ...Now bullying her father's old school chum is one thing, but coming between Gin Ben-Her and haute couture is suicide.
Although she preferred the traditional weapon of her ancestors -- the House of Her long ago elevated the cleaving of skulls with jaw bones of asses to an art form -- she grabbed what was at hand, the ubiquitous Roman short sword. In a whirl of action that anticipated the Bruce Lee Gung-Fu movies by two millennia, Gin quickly sliced, diced and pureed her way through the toughs hectoring Trumpio and then laced into the others as they fled back to their vessel after dropping the loot helter-skelter. Resolved to avenge such vulgar treatment of accoutrement, Gin rallied the ship's crew to a blood-drinking frenzy and, like locusts, they flowed en masse onto the pirate ship where. . .in the extreme biblical sense. . .they smote every single living thing aboard. White with shock, Trumpio stared agog at the curvaceous dynamo responsible for bathing the decks of two large ships in more blood and bodies than the apocalyptic final level of the blockbuster video game, "Doom 3." Her anger abated, Gin Ben-Her again batted pretty eyes and waved demurely.
Needless to say Senator Trumpio was much impressed by Kenny Her's little girl and for the remainder of the voyage Gin was treated like a princess. Once in Rome Trumpio revealed his desire to adopt Gin as his child and heir. Such adoptions were common among Romans, though this instance was complicated by several laws and traditions limiting adoptions to sons. However, Gin had no problem with assuming the identity of a man. She always liked short skirts, fancying the feel of fresh air passing between her warm thighs with particular relish, and would prefer the short male tunic to her long womanly fashions. So in no time at all the deed was done; Gin Ben-Her bobbed her hair, added the surname Trumpio and assumed a male identity in public (she used the name Jim).
The Senator also offered to do something nice for Mullincles but all he could suggest for the hapless Greek was to take him on in his kitchen. Foreseeing death slathered thick all over this idea, Gin replied it would be best if Mullincles was just released from his oar and allowed to melt into the Roman Rabble. Shortly thereafter Gin and her new daddy stood on the front steps of his palace and watched, with relief, as the departing Mullincles blended into the milling mob and moved with it down the Appian Way. One could almost see misfortune, misery, misadventure and mayhem trailing in his wake, like a line of baby ducks.
...Although it would be a score of centuries before the scummy puddle of Mullincles' gene pool was flushed sufficiently for the House of Her, this was not the last the Hers saw of the Mullincleses...
Now a Roman citizen, Gin frequently returned to her hometown for long visits. On her first return she was relieved that the reported infections of her mother and sister with leprosy were, in fact, just severe cases of scabies they contracted from Mullincles. And a year or so later she was delighted when returning to be greeted by her lost father, who had emerged suddenly from the desert fit as a fiddle. Turns out that during a rave celebrating the caravan's arrival at the Parthian capitol, he had returned to his rooms for a nap. Feeling peckish upon awakening, he searched his belongings for a snack and had been either foolish or drunk enough to consume some stuffed grape leaves that Mullincles had made and packed for him. Relieved of his memory and sanity by the resulting illness, Ken Ben-Her wandered Asia in a delirious ramble that made Ulysses' Odyssey look like a stroll across the Boston Common. Years later he awoke from dementia to find himself completely bare-assed and humping his way in alphabetical order through the Emperor of China's huge harem - he was up to the "X's"...again. Thanking the Emperor for his hospitality, Ken immediately beelined back home.
So now she had two adoring fathers who, though fast friends, competed fiercely to make Gin Ben-Her's life as happy as possible.
Epilogue
Ginger Mullins returned to sensibility with a start, as if a balloon had popped. Although the flashback of her ancestor's memories had spanned mere moments, two or three minutes at most, her frozen posture was attracting attention, especially from the fat girl behind the counter. Unfortunately Ginny's original casual glance at this person had matured into an unintended blank stare and to Gin's horror, the morbidly obese woman now was responding with flirtatious winks of an eye and lips pursed into coy blown kisses. On rising to leave, Ginger also was mortified to see the coffee she'd held so long in mid-sip had dribbled in her lap, looking vaguely like she'd peed her ADolce & Gabbana pants. Wondering why these things always happened to her, she exited the Starbuck's by the closest door.
As for Mullincles, he headed north (something hard to do from Rome on the Appian Way). After inadvertently unleashing a series of events in Gaul amongst the Franks and Germans eventually culminating in World War II, he headed farther north still. In the end he settled in (or was chased to) Hibernia, that Emerald Isle one over from Britannia, where he took a wife and badly piddled the pool with progeny.
A few questions confirmed Trumpio's suspicion that Gin, indeed, was related to his old college roommate at Athens University, ol' Ken Ben-Her, Gin's father -- Several years ago Ken journeyed with a large caravan to Parthia where he disappeared and was figured dead (originating the popular catch phrase "They Killed Kenny!"). With much batting of brown eyes and shaking of luxuriant tresses Gin explained her current predicament; which Trumpio waved off as the merest trifle. Swearing a massive oath that in her place he would have heaved Mullincles at Phallus, the Senator gave every indication that Gin's life soon would resume its prior positive track. While telling Gin about the time her father had gotten a particularly nerdy underclassman named Archimedes drunk and sold him into slavery a commotion broke out all about the ship. Rushing to the top deck Trumpio and Gin saw the ship was swarming with Sicilian pirates. Six of the thugs immediately fell upon the Senator with every intention of killing him and, incidentally, ending the prospect of Gin's restoration. She also saw the pirates were looting the ship's cargo, large crates of Victoria's Specialis merchandise, her favorite knickers. ...Now bullying her father's old school chum is one thing, but coming between Gin Ben-Her and haute couture is suicide.
Although she preferred the traditional weapon of her ancestors -- the House of Her long ago elevated the cleaving of skulls with jaw bones of asses to an art form -- she grabbed what was at hand, the ubiquitous Roman short sword. In a whirl of action that anticipated the Bruce Lee Gung-Fu movies by two millennia, Gin quickly sliced, diced and pureed her way through the toughs hectoring Trumpio and then laced into the others as they fled back to their vessel after dropping the loot helter-skelter. Resolved to avenge such vulgar treatment of accoutrement, Gin rallied the ship's crew to a blood-drinking frenzy and, like locusts, they flowed en masse onto the pirate ship where. . .in the extreme biblical sense. . .they smote every single living thing aboard. White with shock, Trumpio stared agog at the curvaceous dynamo responsible for bathing the decks of two large ships in more blood and bodies than the apocalyptic final level of the blockbuster video game, "Doom 3." Her anger abated, Gin Ben-Her again batted pretty eyes and waved demurely.
Needless to say Senator Trumpio was much impressed by Kenny Her's little girl and for the remainder of the voyage Gin was treated like a princess. Once in Rome Trumpio revealed his desire to adopt Gin as his child and heir. Such adoptions were common among Romans, though this instance was complicated by several laws and traditions limiting adoptions to sons. However, Gin had no problem with assuming the identity of a man. She always liked short skirts, fancying the feel of fresh air passing between her warm thighs with particular relish, and would prefer the short male tunic to her long womanly fashions. So in no time at all the deed was done; Gin Ben-Her bobbed her hair, added the surname Trumpio and assumed a male identity in public (she used the name Jim).
The Senator also offered to do something nice for Mullincles but all he could suggest for the hapless Greek was to take him on in his kitchen. Foreseeing death slathered thick all over this idea, Gin replied it would be best if Mullincles was just released from his oar and allowed to melt into the Roman Rabble. Shortly thereafter Gin and her new daddy stood on the front steps of his palace and watched, with relief, as the departing Mullincles blended into the milling mob and moved with it down the Appian Way. One could almost see misfortune, misery, misadventure and mayhem trailing in his wake, like a line of baby ducks.
...Although it would be a score of centuries before the scummy puddle of Mullincles' gene pool was flushed sufficiently for the House of Her, this was not the last the Hers saw of the Mullincleses...
Now a Roman citizen, Gin frequently returned to her hometown for long visits. On her first return she was relieved that the reported infections of her mother and sister with leprosy were, in fact, just severe cases of scabies they contracted from Mullincles. And a year or so later she was delighted when returning to be greeted by her lost father, who had emerged suddenly from the desert fit as a fiddle. Turns out that during a rave celebrating the caravan's arrival at the Parthian capitol, he had returned to his rooms for a nap. Feeling peckish upon awakening, he searched his belongings for a snack and had been either foolish or drunk enough to consume some stuffed grape leaves that Mullincles had made and packed for him. Relieved of his memory and sanity by the resulting illness, Ken Ben-Her wandered Asia in a delirious ramble that made Ulysses' Odyssey look like a stroll across the Boston Common. Years later he awoke from dementia to find himself completely bare-assed and humping his way in alphabetical order through the Emperor of China's huge harem - he was up to the "X's"...again. Thanking the Emperor for his hospitality, Ken immediately beelined back home.
So now she had two adoring fathers who, though fast friends, competed fiercely to make Gin Ben-Her's life as happy as possible.
Epilogue
Ginger Mullins returned to sensibility with a start, as if a balloon had popped. Although the flashback of her ancestor's memories had spanned mere moments, two or three minutes at most, her frozen posture was attracting attention, especially from the fat girl behind the counter. Unfortunately Ginny's original casual glance at this person had matured into an unintended blank stare and to Gin's horror, the morbidly obese woman now was responding with flirtatious winks of an eye and lips pursed into coy blown kisses. On rising to leave, Ginger also was mortified to see the coffee she'd held so long in mid-sip had dribbled in her lap, looking vaguely like she'd peed her ADolce & Gabbana pants. Wondering why these things always happened to her, she exited the Starbuck's by the closest door.
As for Mullincles, he headed north (something hard to do from Rome on the Appian Way). After inadvertently unleashing a series of events in Gaul amongst the Franks and Germans eventually culminating in World War II, he headed farther north still. In the end he settled in (or was chased to) Hibernia, that Emerald Isle one over from Britannia, where he took a wife and badly piddled the pool with progeny.
To Be Continued
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