Tales of the Parodyverse >> View Post
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Post By
killer shrike
In Reply To
Visionary

Subj: Good stuff. As I recall, there were a couple of excellent illustrations to go with this story....
Posted: Sat Jun 14, 2008 at 07:02:50 am EDT
Reply Subj: And a repost of the story that introduced the stars of this new tale...
Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2008 at 10:30:48 pm EDT


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> “Special delivery!” the 5-foot tall lizard declared, kicking open the door to the grungy little office with aplomb. The interior smelled like ozone and cheap tangus root… Of course, smoking was illegal on the space station, but this dank little closet was far enough off the main promenade that no civil environmental enforcement officer was likely to happen across it if they could possibly avoid it. “Cut me a check, ‘cause I’ve brought the goods!” he said triumphantly, slamming his prize catch down on the messy workstation that took up half the room.
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> The fat man behind the desk in question looked up from his keypad with a tired, pained expression, raising two out of three eyebrows. “It’s a pickle jar, Squibb.”
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> “Pickled Berberus Eggs, to be exact” the bounty hunter replied, absently scratching himself with his left supplementary claw. “It was a long flight, and I needed a snack.” He licked his scaly lips in remembrance. “Now Sul, if you’ll be kind enough to make my payment in small denominations…”
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> “It’s a pickle jar, Squibb” Sul re-emphasized.
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> “No” replied the self-proclaimed ‘world’s foremost bounty hunter’ (exactly which world remained unspecified). He decided to speak slowly for the splotchy intergalactic bail-bondsman’s benefit. “It’s Gringus Volt, on the run for the last 8.5 cycles. 2500 station credits, I believe.”
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> “Should we ask why he’s in a pickle jar?” someone asked from directly behind him in a voice that sounded like a choir of ominous children.
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> “Ga-aahhh!” Squibb grimaced with a shudder, the scales on the back of his neck standing on end. He turned to regard the whip-cord thin woman smirking at him from the corner behind the door. “Cin” he greeted the feline mercenary warily. “Didn’t see you there.”
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> “I noticed” she replied in her multiple voices, turning her slitted eyes towards the jar of purple brine on the desk. “So why does Mr. Volt come packaged in a convenient trial size?”
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> “He didn’t come quietly” Squibb noted with a shrug. “And I think the trial’s probably pretty moot now.”
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> Sul finished rummaging through his files with a grunt. Pulling out a keypad, he thumbed through the listings to find Gringus Volt. “Dammit… What the hell happened? He was wanted for tax evasion!”
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> “Huh” Squibb observed thoughtfully. “Woulda done better with missile evasion.” He noted the glare from the bondsman. “What? It sez right at the top of the wanted poster… Dead or Alive!”
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> “’Dead’ is just one option…” Cin suggested.
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> “The first one” Squibb countered with a sniff. “If they had wanted an emphasis on alive, they could have rearranged things.” He picked up the jar and regarded the contents indignantly. “Besides, he was a bad man. Stole from widowed orphans and swindled kindly grandmothers out of their puppies and the like.” He gave a disapproving glare at the floating bits for good measure.
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> “Confessed this on his death bed, did he?” Cin suggested blandly.
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> “I got a vibe” the lizard assured her. “Plus he attacked me first. It was clearly self defense.”
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> “With anti-matter homing missiles.”
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> “All I had handy” he growled. “But he did hit me with that Crocduc mallet first.”
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> “Dammit, Squibb!” Sul roared, “You can’t go around incinerating everyone who hits you with sporting goods equipment!”
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> “I could if I had enough ordinance…” the bounty hunter replied with consideration. “Which just happens to bring us back to the matter of the bill…”
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> Sul snatched the jar away from him with his huge blunt fingers and, after one last glare, turned to examine the contents. “Just which bits of Mr. Volt did you bring back?”
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> “Er… vital bits, I’m sure… You know that pulpy residue that comes down three, maybe four minutes after detonation? Quite a bit of that. And I found some of his tail.”
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> “A man can live without a tail” Cin noted.
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> “But could you really call it living?”
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> “Fine” Sul growled, shifting his bulk back behind his desk and placing the jar on a overburdened bookshelf. “I’ll advance you 50 credits now, pending cellular recombination and identification of the remains. If it’s Volt, and enough of him, I’ll forward the balance to your account… Minus the lab fees, of course. Those’ll run you close to a grand.”
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> “What?!” Squibb hissed as Cin chuckled. “That’s bold-faced robbery, you three-eyed son of a pus-monkey!”
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> Sul shrugged his bulk with little sympathy. “I’m certainly not paying to have your truckstop leftovers analyzed. And leave my mother’s skin condition out of it.”
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> “Well, at least use a reasonable biogenic lab! Like Bowd’ler Nuerionics downside on Frammistat 7. I have a coupon for them, I think…”
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> “I thought the health department closed them down…” Cin noted clinically. “And when you’re talking about someplace too dirty for the backplanet Toads, that’s saying something.”
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> “Yes, well… they’re kind of a floating Neurionics lab right now… But I know which alleyway they like to set up in, and they do good work. I had my last 4 brains cloned there.”
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> “One more and he gets a free sandwich” the towering cat suggested.
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> “No dice” Sul declared, going back to his backlit keypad.
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> “And to think I left an extra egg in there for you.” Squibb sighed. “Aw… come on. Is this about the pus-monkey thing? I didn’t mean anything by it… I’m sure it makes her skin lustrous, and lots of people find primate heritages something to be tolerant of…” He held forth all four palms in supplication. “At least up the advance to 500… I need to overhaul the Trader’s Lament while she’s in port. Or… um, impounded, actually.”
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> “Dear gods… Surely that thing doesn’t still fly?” Cin asked in shock.
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> “She’s a classic” Squibb preened. “A Mullard P-310. Only one ever built.”
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> “As I recall, that’s because the engineer was electrocuted by faulty wiring during the first test flight.”
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> “You can still see the scorch marks if you tilt your head at the light just so” he agreed proudly. “She’s the fastest ship in the galaxy.”
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> “For a burst of one one-millionth of a light year, after which her entire power drive seizes up and melts into the bulkhead” the felinesque mercenary countered. “On regular drive she gets overrun by garbage scows.”
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> “Hey, she’s still the fastest. It’s in Prawk’s book of interplanetary records. I paid for the entry myself.”
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> “Fine… 200!” Sul groaned, rubbing the side of his face. “200 now, if you promise to leave my office right this very minute and not come back until… I don’t know… What month is it?”
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> Just then the warrant alert sounded with a shrill klaxon. Immediately, a pneumatic tube extended from the wall to deploy an acrylic container onto the desk with a solid “thwoop” sound. Sul blinked his three eyes in succession, then reached a meaty paw for the canister. Popping the end off of it, he unrolled the digital display screen inside, scanned over it, and let out a low whistle. “Well, speak of the Toads…”
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> “What is it? Is it a big job? Because I’m between assignments right now, and I’d be willing to help you out…” Squibb offered graciously. “For a reasonable advance, of course.”
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> “This one’s a free-for-all… It must have gone out to half the galaxy” Sul noted. “Damn, but this guy pissed off those frogs… or somebody with deep pockets.”
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> “Deep pockets you say?” Cin noted in a multi-toned purr. “You know, I do believe I could be between assignments myself…”
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> “Hey, get your own job!” Squibb hissed, puffing up his scales.
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> “This one’s going out to all my people” Sul interceded before sporting goods or anti-matter could be brought to bear. “Meet our new number one priority, kids…” The mercenaries checked their own keypads as the wanted poster downloaded to their screens. The picture was overlaid with the words “Apprehend with extreme prejudice.”
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> “Earth, eh?” Cin said, reading over the details. “That’ll be interesting…”
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> “You don’t have to work together, but don’t get in each other’s way…” Sul eyed Squibb carefully. “And I want more than a pickle jar on this one, no matter what it says.”
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> “Oh, naturally. Not a problem. Don’t you worry...” the bounty hunter assured him. “I’ll pick up some buckets from janitorial on my way out.” He paused at the door, then turned back and licked his lips thoughtfully. “Um… you gonna eat that last egg?”
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> And for more Squibb, be sure to read the "Untold Tales of the Tenth Caphan" saga, available at: http://www.chillwater.org.uk/HH/index1d.htm
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