Not-Exactly-Chopped-Liver Fiction™
a could-be-worse division of None-Too-Shabby Enterpises, Ink
PRESENTS :
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 24
Adventures of Huckleberry 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 24
Adventures of Huckleberry Gin
Prologue
YOU don't know about Huck without you have read a book by the
name of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; but that ain't no matter. That book was made by Mr. Mark Twain, and he told the truth, mainly.
It ain't no matter cuz that's a different Huck; this here is about Huckleberry Gin. This book is made by me, and I tell the truth, absolutely.
I. The Arrival
At 19:00 hours, ship's time, Ginger made her way to the launching bay. The men around the shaft stood aside to let her pass, and she climbed down into the capsule. Waiting inside the narrow cockpit Gin felt this seemed more like the start of Stanislaw Lem's "Solaris" (at least the English translation of the French translation of it) than a job interview.
But the site visit to Nevada was all-expenses-paid and the guys at the jobs fair said she could crash in Las Vegas afterward. She didn't realize they meant literally. Anyways, she'd soon gotten an email telling her to stand on a patch of dirt beside a particular light pole next to Delta Kappa Epsilon house close by the Law School wrapped completely in aluminum foil (her, not the law school) at a specific time. She did all that and for her trouble got her atoms disassociated then re-associated on this mothership thingy -- The good part was she was three pounds lighter (and the missing mass wasn't from her important bits). Now the space dudes were in geosynchronous orbit over Las Vegas' McCarran International Airport and ready to jettison her capsule. She thought a JetBlue flight from New York would've been easier. . .plus she'd have a bag of yummy peanuts and not be out five dollars for foil. . .but like they say in the movies, her's was not the reason why.
Ginny's descent consisted of long stretches of stark terror interrupted by brief moments of stark terror -- actually, not much different from ValuJet -- but she landed safely AND with TWO extra pounds scared off so all-in-all, it was worth it. Now she just had to clamber out of the capsule, strip off the spacesuit, smooth her Prada outfit a smidge and find "Janet" Terminal for the flight to Area 51, a Federal government facility no one knows about. The rest of Gin's adventure is a classified "ultra" secret and cannot be related here; although the Trilateral Commission, the Council on Foreign Relations and the Bavarian Illuminati all were briefed (the Gnomes of Zurich were there, as was Jim Cramer). Suffice to say that Ginger was met at the Area 51 runway tarmac by a Martian ("His Exalted Potentate of the Canals and Master of the Vortex", Pekoe-Auk_42 -- the equivalent Earthly rank is Army corporal) and that her interview included participation in an alien autopsy.
Gin decided not to accept the job offer when she heard spiders in Nevada grow bigger than a large man's hand.
II. Civilizing Huck.
So that was nearly a week ago. Now Gin was busy in the dark with a companion (whose name starts with "J" -- hint, hint ... nudge, nudge) putting final touches on a raft they'd cobbled together using sawn planks and such culled from flotsam along the river bank. After slapping a bumper sticker reading "Yield to the Princess" on the back Gin pulled the unraveling straw hat down firm on her head, tugged her droopy drawers up six inches, tightened the rope about her waist a couple yanks, spat in her palm and declared their work "done and lookin' dam swell." Slipping off her favorite camouflage-pattern flip-flops so her bare feet squiggled deep in the black mud, she and her confederate heaved the raft into the torpid water and jumped on for an adventurous drift down Manhattan's East River.
Life on the river was slow and easy. Their raft, which was twelve foot wide and about fifteen or sixteen foot long, floated above the murky water about six or seven inches, making a solid, level floor. To that she and her sidekick had added a small foyer, kitchenette, breakfast nook, conservatory and sleeping loft -- It was as nice as her Upper East Side apartment and the plumbing worked better. Behind they towed a beauty of a canoe, an Old Town worth ten dollars Ginny figured, that she'd catched drifting down the river earlier. This canoe, about thirteen or fourteen foot long, rode high like a duck and was piled full of their provisions, mainly Osetra caviar and Sam Adams.
That first night Ginny drifted to sleep serenaded by the wail of ambulances and prowl cars. The next morning she was awakened, fresh as a daisy, by her companion holding a breakfast tray -- Yes, for this adventure Gin had conscripted her father's Gentleman's Gentleman, Jeeves, whom her dad sometimes loaned her as butler. Setting the tray before her and tidying the loft a bit, Jeeves reported the current situation: The weather was clement, the river had fallen a trifle and he reckoned they'd drifted south along the river bank about three blocks.
The rest of the day Ginny spent in idyllic languor, watching the world inch by and working on her all-over tan. Supine in the somnolent sun, Gin heard the old River calling her name. . .catfish were jumping, a paddle wheel was thumping and black water kept rolling on past just the same. And if it rained she didn't care -- didn't make any difference to her. Indeed, she'd just take that street car that was going up town. . .she'd like to hear some funky dixieland and dance a honky tonk and she'd be buying everybody drinks all around. As the sun set and moon rose, the old black water kept on rolling. And the moon kept on shining on her, making everything all right. Ginny had no worries as she wasn't in a hurry at all.
Perhaps more than Ginny, her crew ...ever an unflappable edifice of rectitude... slipped deep into the comfy lassitude of a drifting raft. Quickly relaxing into relative effusive confession, Jeeves -- who had left a good job in the city working for the man every night and day -- admitted to having never lost one minute of sleeping worrying about the way things might have been. Moreover in his time he'd both cleaned a lot of plates in Memphis and pumped a lot of propane down in New Orleans, but he'd never seen the good side of the city until he hitched a ride on a river boat queen. Free to opine, he related the conviction that if one came down to the river, he bet you would find some people who live. . .But you don't have to worry cause you have no money, people on the river are happy to give. Ginny, delighted to see the faithful family retainer embrace their gestalt, swore that she couldn't agree more. Why a couple times Jeeves even helped her keep the Proud Mary burning. . .BUT still to his own self true, he never, ever presumed to bogart.
In such lazy haze many days passed on the big easy East River until the raft had drifted down Manhattan Island several dozen blocks and Ginny spied their destination docked in the distance. It was a house boat. . .or rather a unique residential community within a cruise ship named "The World."
It seems that Ginny's father had seen a program on the Travel Channel about a company named ResidenSea that conceived, constructed and managed this ship comprised of just 160 or so luxury apartments that people bought to live in as they sailed all over the world. The idea appealed to his simple seafaring ways so he plopped down seven million dollars, plus about a half million in annual fees, for Residence 1000, which just happened to be for sale (no pun intended). The 3,200 sf, Style "E" apartment he bought -- which was on Deck Ten at the ship's left, back corner -- had 3 bedrooms, 3-1/2 baths and was fitted out in the very popular and tres chic Italian TMT decor designed by Di Pilla. It even had TWO balconies, one on the port side and one that wrapped around the back corner from port to aft. When she heard all this Gin thought the raft adventure would be a really awesome way to get in the nautical mood ...for a while she'd considered going with a bloodthirsty pirate motif but canned the idea on learning the ship was well prepared to repel boarders.
III. Yours Truly, Huck Gin.
When the intrepid (and exceedingly under-dressed) pair guided the raft to the gargantuan ship's gangway, Ginny and her valet were helped aboard their new home by several scrambling seamen. Gin found the heady mix of fresh sea air and maritime man musk a tantalizing combination. Soon she was reclined in a fancy deck chair on her aft balcony chugging beer and -- as New York City sank in the sea -- munching buttered toast points heaped with rare caviar by Jeeves using a mother-of-pearl spoon. Off the stern a ways bobbed their raft in tow, bravely riding The World's wake as the titan ship made for Funchal, Madeira ...their first port-of-call.
YOU don't know about Huck without you have read a book by the
name of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; but that ain't no matter. That book was made by Mr. Mark Twain, and he told the truth, mainly.
It ain't no matter cuz that's a different Huck; this here is about Huckleberry Gin. This book is made by me, and I tell the truth, absolutely.
I. The Arrival
At 19:00 hours, ship's time, Ginger made her way to the launching bay. The men around the shaft stood aside to let her pass, and she climbed down into the capsule. Waiting inside the narrow cockpit Gin felt this seemed more like the start of Stanislaw Lem's "Solaris" (at least the English translation of the French translation of it) than a job interview.
But the site visit to Nevada was all-expenses-paid and the guys at the jobs fair said she could crash in Las Vegas afterward. She didn't realize they meant literally. Anyways, she'd soon gotten an email telling her to stand on a patch of dirt beside a particular light pole next to Delta Kappa Epsilon house close by the Law School wrapped completely in aluminum foil (her, not the law school) at a specific time. She did all that and for her trouble got her atoms disassociated then re-associated on this mothership thingy -- The good part was she was three pounds lighter (and the missing mass wasn't from her important bits). Now the space dudes were in geosynchronous orbit over Las Vegas' McCarran International Airport and ready to jettison her capsule. She thought a JetBlue flight from New York would've been easier. . .plus she'd have a bag of yummy peanuts and not be out five dollars for foil. . .but like they say in the movies, her's was not the reason why.
Ginny's descent consisted of long stretches of stark terror interrupted by brief moments of stark terror -- actually, not much different from ValuJet -- but she landed safely AND with TWO extra pounds scared off so all-in-all, it was worth it. Now she just had to clamber out of the capsule, strip off the spacesuit, smooth her Prada outfit a smidge and find "Janet" Terminal for the flight to Area 51, a Federal government facility no one knows about. The rest of Gin's adventure is a classified "ultra" secret and cannot be related here; although the Trilateral Commission, the Council on Foreign Relations and the Bavarian Illuminati all were briefed (the Gnomes of Zurich were there, as was Jim Cramer). Suffice to say that Ginger was met at the Area 51 runway tarmac by a Martian ("His Exalted Potentate of the Canals and Master of the Vortex", Pekoe-Auk_42 -- the equivalent Earthly rank is Army corporal) and that her interview included participation in an alien autopsy.
Gin decided not to accept the job offer when she heard spiders in Nevada grow bigger than a large man's hand.
II. Civilizing Huck.
So that was nearly a week ago. Now Gin was busy in the dark with a companion (whose name starts with "J" -- hint, hint ... nudge, nudge) putting final touches on a raft they'd cobbled together using sawn planks and such culled from flotsam along the river bank. After slapping a bumper sticker reading "Yield to the Princess" on the back Gin pulled the unraveling straw hat down firm on her head, tugged her droopy drawers up six inches, tightened the rope about her waist a couple yanks, spat in her palm and declared their work "done and lookin' dam swell." Slipping off her favorite camouflage-pattern flip-flops so her bare feet squiggled deep in the black mud, she and her confederate heaved the raft into the torpid water and jumped on for an adventurous drift down Manhattan's East River.
Life on the river was slow and easy. Their raft, which was twelve foot wide and about fifteen or sixteen foot long, floated above the murky water about six or seven inches, making a solid, level floor. To that she and her sidekick had added a small foyer, kitchenette, breakfast nook, conservatory and sleeping loft -- It was as nice as her Upper East Side apartment and the plumbing worked better. Behind they towed a beauty of a canoe, an Old Town worth ten dollars Ginny figured, that she'd catched drifting down the river earlier. This canoe, about thirteen or fourteen foot long, rode high like a duck and was piled full of their provisions, mainly Osetra caviar and Sam Adams.
That first night Ginny drifted to sleep serenaded by the wail of ambulances and prowl cars. The next morning she was awakened, fresh as a daisy, by her companion holding a breakfast tray -- Yes, for this adventure Gin had conscripted her father's Gentleman's Gentleman, Jeeves, whom her dad sometimes loaned her as butler. Setting the tray before her and tidying the loft a bit, Jeeves reported the current situation: The weather was clement, the river had fallen a trifle and he reckoned they'd drifted south along the river bank about three blocks.
The rest of the day Ginny spent in idyllic languor, watching the world inch by and working on her all-over tan. Supine in the somnolent sun, Gin heard the old River calling her name. . .catfish were jumping, a paddle wheel was thumping and black water kept rolling on past just the same. And if it rained she didn't care -- didn't make any difference to her. Indeed, she'd just take that street car that was going up town. . .she'd like to hear some funky dixieland and dance a honky tonk and she'd be buying everybody drinks all around. As the sun set and moon rose, the old black water kept on rolling. And the moon kept on shining on her, making everything all right. Ginny had no worries as she wasn't in a hurry at all.
Perhaps more than Ginny, her crew ...ever an unflappable edifice of rectitude... slipped deep into the comfy lassitude of a drifting raft. Quickly relaxing into relative effusive confession, Jeeves -- who had left a good job in the city working for the man every night and day -- admitted to having never lost one minute of sleeping worrying about the way things might have been. Moreover in his time he'd both cleaned a lot of plates in Memphis and pumped a lot of propane down in New Orleans, but he'd never seen the good side of the city until he hitched a ride on a river boat queen. Free to opine, he related the conviction that if one came down to the river, he bet you would find some people who live. . .But you don't have to worry cause you have no money, people on the river are happy to give. Ginny, delighted to see the faithful family retainer embrace their gestalt, swore that she couldn't agree more. Why a couple times Jeeves even helped her keep the Proud Mary burning. . .BUT still to his own self true, he never, ever presumed to bogart.
In such lazy haze many days passed on the big easy East River until the raft had drifted down Manhattan Island several dozen blocks and Ginny spied their destination docked in the distance. It was a house boat. . .or rather a unique residential community within a cruise ship named "The World."
It seems that Ginny's father had seen a program on the Travel Channel about a company named ResidenSea that conceived, constructed and managed this ship comprised of just 160 or so luxury apartments that people bought to live in as they sailed all over the world. The idea appealed to his simple seafaring ways so he plopped down seven million dollars, plus about a half million in annual fees, for Residence 1000, which just happened to be for sale (no pun intended). The 3,200 sf, Style "E" apartment he bought -- which was on Deck Ten at the ship's left, back corner -- had 3 bedrooms, 3-1/2 baths and was fitted out in the very popular and tres chic Italian TMT decor designed by Di Pilla. It even had TWO balconies, one on the port side and one that wrapped around the back corner from port to aft. When she heard all this Gin thought the raft adventure would be a really awesome way to get in the nautical mood ...for a while she'd considered going with a bloodthirsty pirate motif but canned the idea on learning the ship was well prepared to repel boarders.
III. Yours Truly, Huck Gin.
When the intrepid (and exceedingly under-dressed) pair guided the raft to the gargantuan ship's gangway, Ginny and her valet were helped aboard their new home by several scrambling seamen. Gin found the heady mix of fresh sea air and maritime man musk a tantalizing combination. Soon she was reclined in a fancy deck chair on her aft balcony chugging beer and -- as New York City sank in the sea -- munching buttered toast points heaped with rare caviar by Jeeves using a mother-of-pearl spoon. Off the stern a ways bobbed their raft in tow, bravely riding The World's wake as the titan ship made for Funchal, Madeira ...their first port-of-call.
To Be Continued
