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 30
2nd Annual Hallowe'en Special
Heavy Metal 2007
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 30
2nd Annual Hallowe'en Special
Heavy Metal 2007
Everyone may not know -- but will after reading this chapter -- that Ginny's absolute fav. music genre is "Heavy Metal." Yes, she has an ear for other music. . .Country/Western (especially tunes about the country or the West). . .Blue Grass (after surmounting an inner conflict about grass actually being green). . .Classical (particularly from the time of Plato) -- but none of those comes anywheres near being as pleasing to her ear as Heavy Metal music emitted by the greats; Grand Steppenwolf Railroad, Led Butterfly, Black Zeppelin, Deep Funk Sabbath, Iron Purple. To this list Ginny also had added, perhaps eclectically, The Carpenters and Starland Vocal Band (of Heavy Metal anthem, 'Afternoon Delight', fame). Oh, she might have one or two tiny criticisms of SOME Heavy Metal... the overemphasis of guitar and drums, the highly amplified distortion and the fast guitar solos. The extreme volume, the bizarre theatrics and the dripping testosterone (though personally, I exude puddles of testosterone and highly recommend it). The scruffy musicians, the scary lyrics and use of any bass guitar. But aside from these minor quibbles, nothing could please her more than spending an afternoon (especially in Contracts class) listening to Heavy Metal. And as for going to a Heavy Metal concert; that was pure heaven -- Or at least will be when she goes to one. So with all this in mind, it was appropriate that about this time Ginny found shoe-horned into her life an adventure during which Heavy Metal music could have blared in the background throughout, like in that one movie and it's sequel that are kind of famous in a "cult-y" way.
Ginny has received many missives from her old granny -- the 30,021 year-old Cro-Magnon one -- usually by Interstellar Email on her iPhone (yes, Apple is THAT good). But Gin never before had received a letter asking her to wait with bag packed at a particular time and place for pick-up by a starship dressed in a peculiar outfit (that is, Gin dressed peculiarly, not the starship). Not one to disobey her forebears, even an ancient one prone to spells of adolescence, Ginny set out immediately to get the stipulated attire and supplies. The supplies were a cinch, just stuff she already had at home, but she was certain the outfit would be hard to find. In the event, Ginny was extremely surprised ...and very concerned... at how easy it was to find a chain mail thong and metal-plated brassiere in The Village -- there's something about the place that just isn't quite part of our shared Space-Time Continuum.
Anywho, at the appointed time and place she was standing there dressed in chain mail and armour plate -- what little there was of either -- with her treasured 'She-Ra' backpack (the one left over from 3rd grade) stuffed full of stuff. But there was a problem. No stranger to wearing armour. . .when not running around buck naked, she often wore breastplates and such about the apartment. . .Gin found the mail thong particularly yummy against her sensitive flesh -- No, the outfit wasn't the problem. The problem was the place was very public and her granny was very late (is that two problems?). So she had to stand around in one spot in essentially nothing clutching a backpack for three hours. Believe me, she looked especially nubile. . .if not completely randy. And it was worse than one of those "naked" nightmares some people get because it wasn't night and it wasn't a dream. Eventually Gin's Grandma Tina did arrive -- turns out, like many visitors from space she got the timezones mixed up -- and a huge flashy saucer hummed in, picked Ginny up and zipped off to space. Strangely, the starship's coming and going caused less of a stir than Ginny had standing there essentially 'au natural' for several hours.
Hugging her granny hello in the cargo bay of a starship, Gin had a feeling this was going to be weirder than that time she started World War I. What happened then was Ginny found herself standing on a corner in some European city or other (things were kind of confused, I think Absinthe was involved) when an old timey car packed with VIP's swerved to the curb and a guy leaned out to jabber at her in some language -- In fact he was asking the way to the hospital; there had been a big ruckus and they wanted to visit the injured but got turned around. Ginny, having no clue, merely smiled and shrugged. Unfortunately...in the local idiom that means "Take the next right." On making that turn the car just happened to drive by a dude loitering outside some delicatessen who was part of the problem earlier. At that point the Archduke was history; as is the rest of the story. Actually, I'll pretty sure she didn't mean to do it; I mean The Great War and everything...
[Author's Note - Before I get a mountain of mail (and I do receive loads of mail. . .mostly addressed to 'Occupant') about the injustice of involving Ginger with the origin of World War I -- the greatest Human Cataclysm since that time one-quarter of the world's population, Cain, obliterated another quarter, Abel -- let's agree that we all know Ginny never could have started World War I. . .and even if she could, I reiterate my near conviction that she wouldn't mean to. For me to imply, or even somewhat emphatically state, that SHE started it really is just a very clever writer's embellishment because ...well... I'm very clever.]
...Irregardless, Ginny was tickled to see her old granny and get a big "Grandma" hug; even if the senescent grandma giving it appeared 3 or 4 years her junior. Her Grandma Tina was dressed even more lasciviously than Gin; wearing a nearly transparent loincloth cinched low at the hip with a silky golden cord and a short chain mail chemise that just barely failed to completely cover her ample, firm bosom -- she'd got them done recently by a genius who knew his tits. Thick chestnut hair flowed in wavey cascades down her back, with stray wisps attractively animated by the starship's ventilation. Hands and feet were bare though finger and toe nails were painted "I'm Not Really a Waitress" red. If she was aiming for the "robust-buxom-voluptuous Amazon" look, it worked. A nearby pile of equipment implied an entire "well-armed robust-buxom-voluptuous Amazon" ensemble. And, indeed, that inference was correct.
Turns out there was an "incident" involving the Super-Intelligent Space Aliens of the Sirius star system, where Ginny's grandma hangs her thong. One of their bigwigs, a High Mucky-Muck of something, had the misfortune of being grabbed by a gang of stellar badguys while on a joy ride in his new BMW SE Roadster near Barnard's Star (yes, BMW is THAT good). To recover their dude the Siriusians (whose motto, oddly, is... "We Are Serious") figured they could send a battle-hardened cohort of tough-as-nails Space Marines at great expense and with 99.6 percent fatalities, or send Ginny's little old granny. . .They decided to try Tina.
And she happily agreed as Ogg's back hair was resprouting with a vengeance and she ached for a vacation from the old apeman. Until recently Tina, who is a Community College Certified Cosmetology Professional, always had removed Ogg's heavy thatch of body hair in a long ordeal of hotwax agony. . .that is, until he realized how much she enjoyed his screams. Now he insisted on having the job done on Earth by someone less vicious and even that he put off as long as possible; usually requiring her escort at gunpoint. Plus Tina figured she hadn't "done enough" with Ginny and an afternoon with her in body-armour devoted to mayhem would be good "quality" time.
Hence the letter and starship pickup. On hearing all this Ginny was dubious but willing. As "operative insertion" was imminent -- that's the part where Ginny and her granny get comfy in a cramped capsule, eject from the starship in high orbit over the bad dudes' planet and plummet in a screaming arc of sparks that's really cool -- Gin's grandma armed herself, then helped get Ginny ready. Atop her loincloth and chemise Tina wore an indestructible nano-carbon breastplate. Fastened over her shoulder were a sword, battleaxe and round shield and a large hand blaster rode low at her hip. She wore a Corinthian helmet in the heroic way, pushed back high on her forehead, and hefted a long blaster rod that looked like a spear. Heavy combat boots encased her feet and cute red-tipped toes. Not wanting a single hair mussed on her favorite granddaughter, Tina enclosed Ginny in two full suits of titanium-infused armoured ceramic skin and a stout pair of pink Crocs. The Mullins ancestral Claymore nestled happily in a scabbard slung across Gin's back and at her hip in a tiny holster was a "Cricket" hand blaster. In a much larger holster strapped securely across her chest was Gin's Smith&Wesson Model 686 .357 Magnum revolver. Tina looked like Athena. . .Ginny looked like The Terminator.
The badguys looked like ET; of movie fame. Gin always was suspicious of that smarmy "phone home" alien dude and his sunshine hype. She felt great that she'd been right all along and glad they were giving him something really big to phone home. Which raises the point that the aforementioned terrifying free-fall from orbit. . .which Ginger reckoned was patentable as a weigh-loss regimen. . .had plopped the two women not just in the middle of the badguys compound nor just in the middle of the badguys' headquarters, but rather smack in the middle of the badguys. For a time the two were surrounded at close quarters by a pressing hoard of bad dudes. Fighting back-to-back, Gin with Claymore and Cricket and her granny with a sword in one hand and battleaxe in the other, the pair slashed, hacked and blasted from the centroid of a clambering melee of ET's -- who were mowed down in growing heaps like hapless Confederates in Pickett's Charge. The whole time Gin's granny gave loud voice to a running narrative, in extreme detail, of exactly what was totally endearing and what was completely disgusting about Gin's hirsute Grandpa Ogg. For instance, there was the time he was going to cook supper shortly after their marriage. . .it was so sweet. . .until Tina sat down to a "romantic" dinner of boiled Cave Bear testicles. And the time he snuck off to be Casanova. . .Tina nearly served him his own testicles that time -- then afterwards he apologized with the prettiest flower imaginable. . .which also turned out to be the smelliest thing on Earth. But she swore she always loved the goofy son-of-a-bitch; lucky for him. Ginny was wondering how much more she should be privy to when the cascade of bad guys petered out and the pair bounded down passages and corridors to rescue the hostage dude. Ginny's Grandma Tina raced in the vanguard, blasting the bejeebers out of everything bad that moved. Gin followed and dealt with anything creeping up from behind. . .not surprisingly there wasn't a whole lot of that kind of thing happening -- anything left alive in Tina's wake was not anxious to renew the aquaintence.
As they neared the nexus it was obvious the bad dudes, unaware the attack already had penetrated so deep, had marshaled forces and were rushing to defend the perimeter. With the fog of war totally on her side, Ginny's granny grew stealthy. She dispatched the remaining badguys using Zhongguo wushu with a few shuriken thrown in besides -- it was Tina who thought up Martial Arts, and later, coined the word "ninja".
Outside the final portal the last guard got the 'surprise of his life' when she held a heart. . .his own infact; ripped from his chest and still beating. . .before his eyes.
With that Ginny wondered how much more gruesome this would get, but actually it was pretty much over. The door before them opened at a signal from one of the multitude of gizmos her granny had been using all along and they both peeped into a cavernous hangar. Inside was the captive guy all tied up with rope (stellar bad dudes always use plain old rope), sundry piles of bric-a-brac and a space vehicle parked to the side.
They entered. The door shut behind them. Gin's granny hustled over to the erstwhile Mucky-Muck to examine his bonds -- the bonehead trussing him up apparently figured twenty granny knots were equal to one good one. Ginny waited, with some relief, a bit to the side between the closed portal and space craft. It was not a good place to stand. Out of nowhere there was the whine of a revving star drive and a slight flash. Then a beam of pure plasma erupted from points on the craft and enveloped Ginger in a fireball that carbonized everything in a fifty-foot radius. . .but had absolutely no effect on her other than making her sneeze and drop the Cricket down a grating. The beam did blow the door to smithereens, though. Gin weathered the direct hit thanks to her granny, who after many far-flung perambulations of improving travel, had a few things in her brassiere even the serious fellas of Sirius didn't know about. One of those things was a field generator no amount of destruction could get through. Having instantly sensed real peril, she had thrown such a field around Ginny with plenty of time, several seconds, to spare. Unfortunately after such a blow the field must regenerate and this dude didn't seem finished nor willing to wait. The craft -- actually a small starship -- already was traveling, mere inches above the deck, for the open portal and Ginny was in the way. Though she could have dodged to safety, Ginger figured if this bucko wanted to escape, he'd have to go through her -- He figured the same thing. She stood there with sparkling brown eyes fixed on the advancing craft. As it built speed and closed distance with her, Gin saw the ship's blaster points spark, the prelude to firing again. This was getting serious. Smiling sweetly, Ginger set her feet shoulder width apart, straighted her back and calmly unholstered the Smith&Wesson revolver. With a two-hand grip and fully extended arms, she held the weapon motionless, drew a bead and smoothly squeezed the trigger, firing one shot into the on-coming starship. Nothing happened but a tiny belch of smoke. Then the craft's insides blew out through it's skin in a whooshing sneeze of flame (yes, Smith&Wesson is THAT good). The charred hulk skidded to a stop before her, dusting the toes of her pink shoes with a thin coat of phosphorescent grit. Seeing all this, Ginny's granny broke into a happy grin as her dear old heart swelled with pride.
Next they untied the dude (all 436 knots), called for extraction and headed home. Both Ginny and her grandma were tickled to share such an adventure and have some "special" time together -- although Ginny had heard all she needed about testicles for a while. They got back in time to go to the big Halloween party that night. As they already had the outfits, they went as Amazons. But first they had a bite out to eat and shopped some. . .Ginny bought an awesome new halter Tankini swimsuit on sale at Victoria's Secret. Her elderly granny asked to borrow it as they left the store (yes, Victoria's Secret is THAT good).
Ginny has received many missives from her old granny -- the 30,021 year-old Cro-Magnon one -- usually by Interstellar Email on her iPhone (yes, Apple is THAT good). But Gin never before had received a letter asking her to wait with bag packed at a particular time and place for pick-up by a starship dressed in a peculiar outfit (that is, Gin dressed peculiarly, not the starship). Not one to disobey her forebears, even an ancient one prone to spells of adolescence, Ginny set out immediately to get the stipulated attire and supplies. The supplies were a cinch, just stuff she already had at home, but she was certain the outfit would be hard to find. In the event, Ginny was extremely surprised ...and very concerned... at how easy it was to find a chain mail thong and metal-plated brassiere in The Village -- there's something about the place that just isn't quite part of our shared Space-Time Continuum.
Anywho, at the appointed time and place she was standing there dressed in chain mail and armour plate -- what little there was of either -- with her treasured 'She-Ra' backpack (the one left over from 3rd grade) stuffed full of stuff. But there was a problem. No stranger to wearing armour. . .when not running around buck naked, she often wore breastplates and such about the apartment. . .Gin found the mail thong particularly yummy against her sensitive flesh -- No, the outfit wasn't the problem. The problem was the place was very public and her granny was very late (is that two problems?). So she had to stand around in one spot in essentially nothing clutching a backpack for three hours. Believe me, she looked especially nubile. . .if not completely randy. And it was worse than one of those "naked" nightmares some people get because it wasn't night and it wasn't a dream. Eventually Gin's Grandma Tina did arrive -- turns out, like many visitors from space she got the timezones mixed up -- and a huge flashy saucer hummed in, picked Ginny up and zipped off to space. Strangely, the starship's coming and going caused less of a stir than Ginny had standing there essentially 'au natural' for several hours.
Hugging her granny hello in the cargo bay of a starship, Gin had a feeling this was going to be weirder than that time she started World War I. What happened then was Ginny found herself standing on a corner in some European city or other (things were kind of confused, I think Absinthe was involved) when an old timey car packed with VIP's swerved to the curb and a guy leaned out to jabber at her in some language -- In fact he was asking the way to the hospital; there had been a big ruckus and they wanted to visit the injured but got turned around. Ginny, having no clue, merely smiled and shrugged. Unfortunately...in the local idiom that means "Take the next right." On making that turn the car just happened to drive by a dude loitering outside some delicatessen who was part of the problem earlier. At that point the Archduke was history; as is the rest of the story. Actually, I'll pretty sure she didn't mean to do it; I mean The Great War and everything...
[Author's Note - Before I get a mountain of mail (and I do receive loads of mail. . .mostly addressed to 'Occupant') about the injustice of involving Ginger with the origin of World War I -- the greatest Human Cataclysm since that time one-quarter of the world's population, Cain, obliterated another quarter, Abel -- let's agree that we all know Ginny never could have started World War I. . .and even if she could, I reiterate my near conviction that she wouldn't mean to. For me to imply, or even somewhat emphatically state, that SHE started it really is just a very clever writer's embellishment because ...well... I'm very clever.]
...Irregardless, Ginny was tickled to see her old granny and get a big "Grandma" hug; even if the senescent grandma giving it appeared 3 or 4 years her junior. Her Grandma Tina was dressed even more lasciviously than Gin; wearing a nearly transparent loincloth cinched low at the hip with a silky golden cord and a short chain mail chemise that just barely failed to completely cover her ample, firm bosom -- she'd got them done recently by a genius who knew his tits. Thick chestnut hair flowed in wavey cascades down her back, with stray wisps attractively animated by the starship's ventilation. Hands and feet were bare though finger and toe nails were painted "I'm Not Really a Waitress" red. If she was aiming for the "robust-buxom-voluptuous Amazon" look, it worked. A nearby pile of equipment implied an entire "well-armed robust-buxom-voluptuous Amazon" ensemble. And, indeed, that inference was correct.
Turns out there was an "incident" involving the Super-Intelligent Space Aliens of the Sirius star system, where Ginny's grandma hangs her thong. One of their bigwigs, a High Mucky-Muck of something, had the misfortune of being grabbed by a gang of stellar badguys while on a joy ride in his new BMW SE Roadster near Barnard's Star (yes, BMW is THAT good). To recover their dude the Siriusians (whose motto, oddly, is... "We Are Serious") figured they could send a battle-hardened cohort of tough-as-nails Space Marines at great expense and with 99.6 percent fatalities, or send Ginny's little old granny. . .They decided to try Tina.
And she happily agreed as Ogg's back hair was resprouting with a vengeance and she ached for a vacation from the old apeman. Until recently Tina, who is a Community College Certified Cosmetology Professional, always had removed Ogg's heavy thatch of body hair in a long ordeal of hotwax agony. . .that is, until he realized how much she enjoyed his screams. Now he insisted on having the job done on Earth by someone less vicious and even that he put off as long as possible; usually requiring her escort at gunpoint. Plus Tina figured she hadn't "done enough" with Ginny and an afternoon with her in body-armour devoted to mayhem would be good "quality" time.
Hence the letter and starship pickup. On hearing all this Ginny was dubious but willing. As "operative insertion" was imminent -- that's the part where Ginny and her granny get comfy in a cramped capsule, eject from the starship in high orbit over the bad dudes' planet and plummet in a screaming arc of sparks that's really cool -- Gin's grandma armed herself, then helped get Ginny ready. Atop her loincloth and chemise Tina wore an indestructible nano-carbon breastplate. Fastened over her shoulder were a sword, battleaxe and round shield and a large hand blaster rode low at her hip. She wore a Corinthian helmet in the heroic way, pushed back high on her forehead, and hefted a long blaster rod that looked like a spear. Heavy combat boots encased her feet and cute red-tipped toes. Not wanting a single hair mussed on her favorite granddaughter, Tina enclosed Ginny in two full suits of titanium-infused armoured ceramic skin and a stout pair of pink Crocs. The Mullins ancestral Claymore nestled happily in a scabbard slung across Gin's back and at her hip in a tiny holster was a "Cricket" hand blaster. In a much larger holster strapped securely across her chest was Gin's Smith&Wesson Model 686 .357 Magnum revolver. Tina looked like Athena. . .Ginny looked like The Terminator.
The badguys looked like ET; of movie fame. Gin always was suspicious of that smarmy "phone home" alien dude and his sunshine hype. She felt great that she'd been right all along and glad they were giving him something really big to phone home. Which raises the point that the aforementioned terrifying free-fall from orbit. . .which Ginger reckoned was patentable as a weigh-loss regimen. . .had plopped the two women not just in the middle of the badguys compound nor just in the middle of the badguys' headquarters, but rather smack in the middle of the badguys. For a time the two were surrounded at close quarters by a pressing hoard of bad dudes. Fighting back-to-back, Gin with Claymore and Cricket and her granny with a sword in one hand and battleaxe in the other, the pair slashed, hacked and blasted from the centroid of a clambering melee of ET's -- who were mowed down in growing heaps like hapless Confederates in Pickett's Charge. The whole time Gin's granny gave loud voice to a running narrative, in extreme detail, of exactly what was totally endearing and what was completely disgusting about Gin's hirsute Grandpa Ogg. For instance, there was the time he was going to cook supper shortly after their marriage. . .it was so sweet. . .until Tina sat down to a "romantic" dinner of boiled Cave Bear testicles. And the time he snuck off to be Casanova. . .Tina nearly served him his own testicles that time -- then afterwards he apologized with the prettiest flower imaginable. . .which also turned out to be the smelliest thing on Earth. But she swore she always loved the goofy son-of-a-bitch; lucky for him. Ginny was wondering how much more she should be privy to when the cascade of bad guys petered out and the pair bounded down passages and corridors to rescue the hostage dude. Ginny's Grandma Tina raced in the vanguard, blasting the bejeebers out of everything bad that moved. Gin followed and dealt with anything creeping up from behind. . .not surprisingly there wasn't a whole lot of that kind of thing happening -- anything left alive in Tina's wake was not anxious to renew the aquaintence.
As they neared the nexus it was obvious the bad dudes, unaware the attack already had penetrated so deep, had marshaled forces and were rushing to defend the perimeter. With the fog of war totally on her side, Ginny's granny grew stealthy. She dispatched the remaining badguys using Zhongguo wushu with a few shuriken thrown in besides -- it was Tina who thought up Martial Arts, and later, coined the word "ninja".
Outside the final portal the last guard got the 'surprise of his life' when she held a heart. . .his own infact; ripped from his chest and still beating. . .before his eyes.
With that Ginny wondered how much more gruesome this would get, but actually it was pretty much over. The door before them opened at a signal from one of the multitude of gizmos her granny had been using all along and they both peeped into a cavernous hangar. Inside was the captive guy all tied up with rope (stellar bad dudes always use plain old rope), sundry piles of bric-a-brac and a space vehicle parked to the side.
They entered. The door shut behind them. Gin's granny hustled over to the erstwhile Mucky-Muck to examine his bonds -- the bonehead trussing him up apparently figured twenty granny knots were equal to one good one. Ginny waited, with some relief, a bit to the side between the closed portal and space craft. It was not a good place to stand. Out of nowhere there was the whine of a revving star drive and a slight flash. Then a beam of pure plasma erupted from points on the craft and enveloped Ginger in a fireball that carbonized everything in a fifty-foot radius. . .but had absolutely no effect on her other than making her sneeze and drop the Cricket down a grating. The beam did blow the door to smithereens, though. Gin weathered the direct hit thanks to her granny, who after many far-flung perambulations of improving travel, had a few things in her brassiere even the serious fellas of Sirius didn't know about. One of those things was a field generator no amount of destruction could get through. Having instantly sensed real peril, she had thrown such a field around Ginny with plenty of time, several seconds, to spare. Unfortunately after such a blow the field must regenerate and this dude didn't seem finished nor willing to wait. The craft -- actually a small starship -- already was traveling, mere inches above the deck, for the open portal and Ginny was in the way. Though she could have dodged to safety, Ginger figured if this bucko wanted to escape, he'd have to go through her -- He figured the same thing. She stood there with sparkling brown eyes fixed on the advancing craft. As it built speed and closed distance with her, Gin saw the ship's blaster points spark, the prelude to firing again. This was getting serious. Smiling sweetly, Ginger set her feet shoulder width apart, straighted her back and calmly unholstered the Smith&Wesson revolver. With a two-hand grip and fully extended arms, she held the weapon motionless, drew a bead and smoothly squeezed the trigger, firing one shot into the on-coming starship. Nothing happened but a tiny belch of smoke. Then the craft's insides blew out through it's skin in a whooshing sneeze of flame (yes, Smith&Wesson is THAT good). The charred hulk skidded to a stop before her, dusting the toes of her pink shoes with a thin coat of phosphorescent grit. Seeing all this, Ginny's granny broke into a happy grin as her dear old heart swelled with pride.
Next they untied the dude (all 436 knots), called for extraction and headed home. Both Ginny and her grandma were tickled to share such an adventure and have some "special" time together -- although Ginny had heard all she needed about testicles for a while. They got back in time to go to the big Halloween party that night. As they already had the outfits, they went as Amazons. But first they had a bite out to eat and shopped some. . .Ginny bought an awesome new halter Tankini swimsuit on sale at Victoria's Secret. Her elderly granny asked to borrow it as they left the store (yes, Victoria's Secret is THAT good).
To Be Continued
