After determining they might be gone up to three days, Tott threw a few necessities into a ratty old gym bag and joined Nichelle on the front porch.
"Are you going to keep this trailer, Tottchell? Personally, I think it should be condemned."
"Probably," he agreed, "I might sell it and move into an apartment."
As they climbed into the enormous car, which belonged to Tott's ailing father, Nichelle spotted Elmer and Jim huddled in the back, crouching on the floor behind the front seats.
"What are you two doing?" she demanded.
"Damn," said Elmer, "we wanted to surprise you once you got on the road."
"Not a very good hiding place."
"Haven't you ever read 'The Reivers'?" Jim asked.
"Not in a while," she said, tartly, "So you've had a change of heart, I see."
"As long as you and Tott don't mind," said Elmer, "After all, I promised myself I'd help you if you needed it."
"I don't care," Tott said, "We've got room for about ten in this thing."
"Want me to drive, Tott?" Nichelle offered, "I can drive. I don't mind driving."
"Nah, I can do it."
Nichelle instructed Tott to take I-74 west to Illinois, but he mistakenly got on 74 east and headed toward Cincinnati before it dawned on Jim and Nichelle that they were going the wrong direction. They induced Tott to exit at London Road and Nichelle further advised him to go back around the city loop in order to pick up westbound 74, something she thought a lifelong Indianapolis resident ought to know anyway. All he while, Elmer dozed; this happened a lot when he rode in the back seat of an automobile.
There were occasional instances in which entire buildings suddenly transformed into a substance quite similar to the tangible hubris, though there were significant chemical differences. This phenomenon was not well understood. Structures could not really possess the kind of conceit theorized to cause tangible hubris in humans; some speculated gaudy or overstated buildings--ones in which the architect displayed hubris--were most likely to experience SIRP* while others believed the transformation was based more on the attitudes of the occupants.
Just such an instance had occurred on the way around the city loop. Out near the old airport, an unused office building had turned into a rubbery boulder and rolled onto the roadway, backing up traffic. Because the material was fairly light, it didn't take road crews long to remove the former buildings. Nichelle and Tott handled the delay with equanimity while Jim Misanthrope sat in the back and cringed; he had the patience of a starving dog watching a manual can opener rotate around the lid.
Tott yawned. Nichelle again expressed her willingness--desire, really--to drive and Tott acquiesced. In fact, he motioned for Jim to come up front while he slumped in the back with Elmer. Outside of Brownsburg, Nichelle peeked in rearview to make sure Tott and Elmer were asleep. It was getting dark and the sunset splashed tangerine smears across the western half of the sky. Traffic was light and Nichelle stuck her foot in the tank and pushed the old deuce and a quarter up to eighty-five miles an hour. She flipped on the radio just in time to hear Roger Miller declare himself "a man of means by no means."
"Punch it, Nichelle," beamed Jim, "That's us, kings of the road."
And Queen, she thought, but why quibble?
*Spontaneous Inorganic Rubberization Process
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Three: Tottchell Zizzzard's Magic Fish
Tottchell Zizzzard was the only person Nichelle knew who had never coughed up so much as an ice cube's worth of tangible hubris. In addition, his last name contained an unprecedented four "Zs", including a linguistically unique three in a row. Nichelle suspected him of harboring a secret crush on her, but Tott lacked both confidence and verbal agility. Tott lived paradoxically, often coming across as a simpleton, yet capable of great insights, loyal and willing to do anything for a friend, but utterly flaky and unreliable. He also did not drive well, so Nichelle hoped she could talk him into letting her drive the forty year old gasoline-vanquishing Buick Electra 225 he used to get to work. When he was working.
Nichelle trudged from Jim and Elmer's medium rise apartment to the trailer park where Tott lived, stepping over blobs of hubris and winding around derelict cars. The brisk walk took her about ten minutes; on the way, she ran into a crack dealer she thought she recognized but the two did not exchange pleasantries.
After his mother died and his father moved into a nursing home, Tott took possession of the filthiest, most unsanitary domicile in the history of humankind. Nichelle had observed neither improvement nor regression since Tott's sole occupancy of the place, which she still approached with revulsion. A few years earlier, one of trailer's many residents--a drifter, a hanger-on, one of Tott's sisters' boyfriends--experienced a problem with the microwave oven and pulled it away from the wall to investigate. Nichelle and Elmer looked on in horror as they caught sight of the microwave's back panel, which was covered entirely in milling cockroaches.
As she walked up the wobbly steps of the wooden porch and approached the front door, Nichelle noticed a very small black catfish in the grass below. It wriggled and flopped, as fish out of water tend to do. Then it stood erect, to the extent an animal with a weak backbone can. Nichelle blinked. It could not be. But it was. Now the catfish was on the move, covering ground at a surprisingly rapid clip. She watched as it reached the edge of the trailer and turned out of sight. She then knocked on the door.
"You won't believe what I just saw," she breathed.
"Catfish?"
"How'd you know?"
"It got out of the tank this morning. I figured the merciful thing to do was just let it go. Mom and Dad never fed it anyway."
Tott neglected to mention he had never fed it either. But to be fair, he had not bought the fish in the first place.
He motioned for Nichelle to enter and she did so, gingerly as always. On the counter separating the kitchen from the living room sat a small fish tank half full of water thick and black enough to be discarded motor oil. She shuddered at first, then felt a surge of pleasure for the escaped fish.
"Tott, I need to get to Goofy Ridge, Illinois. Can you take me?"
"Sure," he replied, his mouth full of cereal which he shoveled hastily from a grimy bowl, "You want to go tomorrow?"
"No, today. Right now, if possible."
She expected to have to cajole and persuade, perhaps even flirt, but Tott's resistance proved feeble.
"I'm kinda tired," he said. "I went to a movie last night."
"It's three o'clock in the afternoon," Nichelle said.
"Yeah," said Tott, who failed to understand why Nichelle mentioned the time.
"Well, I can drive if you're tired. I just don't want to go all by myself."
Tott nodded, understanding.
"Give me a minute," he said, "and I'll get ready."
Nichelle trudged from Jim and Elmer's medium rise apartment to the trailer park where Tott lived, stepping over blobs of hubris and winding around derelict cars. The brisk walk took her about ten minutes; on the way, she ran into a crack dealer she thought she recognized but the two did not exchange pleasantries.
After his mother died and his father moved into a nursing home, Tott took possession of the filthiest, most unsanitary domicile in the history of humankind. Nichelle had observed neither improvement nor regression since Tott's sole occupancy of the place, which she still approached with revulsion. A few years earlier, one of trailer's many residents--a drifter, a hanger-on, one of Tott's sisters' boyfriends--experienced a problem with the microwave oven and pulled it away from the wall to investigate. Nichelle and Elmer looked on in horror as they caught sight of the microwave's back panel, which was covered entirely in milling cockroaches.
As she walked up the wobbly steps of the wooden porch and approached the front door, Nichelle noticed a very small black catfish in the grass below. It wriggled and flopped, as fish out of water tend to do. Then it stood erect, to the extent an animal with a weak backbone can. Nichelle blinked. It could not be. But it was. Now the catfish was on the move, covering ground at a surprisingly rapid clip. She watched as it reached the edge of the trailer and turned out of sight. She then knocked on the door.
"You won't believe what I just saw," she breathed.
"Catfish?"
"How'd you know?"
"It got out of the tank this morning. I figured the merciful thing to do was just let it go. Mom and Dad never fed it anyway."
Tott neglected to mention he had never fed it either. But to be fair, he had not bought the fish in the first place.
He motioned for Nichelle to enter and she did so, gingerly as always. On the counter separating the kitchen from the living room sat a small fish tank half full of water thick and black enough to be discarded motor oil. She shuddered at first, then felt a surge of pleasure for the escaped fish.
"Tott, I need to get to Goofy Ridge, Illinois. Can you take me?"
"Sure," he replied, his mouth full of cereal which he shoveled hastily from a grimy bowl, "You want to go tomorrow?"
"No, today. Right now, if possible."
She expected to have to cajole and persuade, perhaps even flirt, but Tott's resistance proved feeble.
"I'm kinda tired," he said. "I went to a movie last night."
"It's three o'clock in the afternoon," Nichelle said.
"Yeah," said Tott, who failed to understand why Nichelle mentioned the time.
"Well, I can drive if you're tired. I just don't want to go all by myself."
Tott nodded, understanding.
"Give me a minute," he said, "and I'll get ready."
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Two: Destination Goofy Ridge
Nichelle decided the first step toward normality would be to get rid of as much of the tangible hubris as possible. Inside the human body and immediately after exiting, hubris resembled a kind of mist or fog, only with an eerie light brown tint. As it cooled and hardened, it became a pliable greyish brown substance, rather like rubber. The stuff wasn't noxious unless ingested or burned, but no one had yet devised a suitable method for disposing of it. The Monolithic Chemical Company of Goofy Ridge, Illinois had allegedly printed a manual with relevant suggestions, but it had never been made accessible to the general public.
No one knew for sure why the tangible hubris asphyxiated only the journalists; everyone was afraid to find out because investigating the cause seemed like a journalistic thing to do and no one wanted to die. Clearly, media figures were not the only egomaniacs on the planet, but they were the only ones to have perished en mass. Other professions and social groups--politicians, Freemasons, game show hosts, country club members, opera singers--fell victim merely on a spotty individual basis.
"I think it's an extinction episode, like any other," opined Jim Misanthrope, Elmer Treedweller's roommate. "For whatever reason, that portion of the population simply could not adapt. It may not be solely a matter of how full of themselves they were, just how they reacted to the change from abstract to actual."
Elmer shook his head dismissively and answered the ringing phone.
"Come to the door," Nichelle said, "It's really me."
Elmer and Jim rarely answered the door for fear of Vinny Sausage Pizza Heads. These were people who could temporarily mimic any human voice they heard, a side effect of coughing up a non-fatal quantity of tangible hubris. Actually, a great many people exhibited this talent, but only Vinny Sausage Pizza Heads used the ability deceive people into opening their front doors in order to commit some type of criminal mischief; hence the name, a kind of renegade pizza delivery person. Elmer and Jim had only been Vinny Sausage Pizza Headed once, but the experience had rendered them overly cautious.
Elmer opened the door tentatively to find the real Nichelle standing before him.
"I need you guys to take me to Goofy Ridge, Illinois," she said.
Elmer frowned. Jim cackled from the other room.
"Us?" cried Jim. "Why both of us?"
"Goofy Ridge," sneered Elmer, "did you just make that up? How far is it?"
"I don't care how far it is," came Jim's voice, "I'm not going."
"Fine," said Nichelle, "You want to be obstreperous, I'll ask Tott to take me."
An instant of silence ensued. Again, Jim laughed derisively. He had now come into the room to mock Nichelle.
"Good luck with that," he said, "You want to take a road trip with that guy?"
"Better than with you two lazy halfwits. Why can't you go? Things to do, people to see? Neither of you has done a thing since the hubris went solid! Elmer spends his time bemoaning the loss of 'The Kumquat Show', and you--"
She aimed a stubby finger toward Jim Misanthrope.
"You might as well be a pothead, sitting around playing video games and spouting off what a genius you are. Geniuses actually accomplish things, pinhead, in case you hadn't noticed. No one's remembered as the genius of idleness, the genius of lethargy."
The two men gawked at her, simultaneously affronted, stung, and awestruck. Elmer, tall and reedy, raised his gangly arms in surrender. Jim looked both angry and apologetic; he had become portly since leaving his last job and slumped down on a chair at the kitchen table. Nichelle backed out of the apartment and gently shut the door.
No one knew for sure why the tangible hubris asphyxiated only the journalists; everyone was afraid to find out because investigating the cause seemed like a journalistic thing to do and no one wanted to die. Clearly, media figures were not the only egomaniacs on the planet, but they were the only ones to have perished en mass. Other professions and social groups--politicians, Freemasons, game show hosts, country club members, opera singers--fell victim merely on a spotty individual basis.
"I think it's an extinction episode, like any other," opined Jim Misanthrope, Elmer Treedweller's roommate. "For whatever reason, that portion of the population simply could not adapt. It may not be solely a matter of how full of themselves they were, just how they reacted to the change from abstract to actual."
Elmer shook his head dismissively and answered the ringing phone.
"Come to the door," Nichelle said, "It's really me."
Elmer and Jim rarely answered the door for fear of Vinny Sausage Pizza Heads. These were people who could temporarily mimic any human voice they heard, a side effect of coughing up a non-fatal quantity of tangible hubris. Actually, a great many people exhibited this talent, but only Vinny Sausage Pizza Heads used the ability deceive people into opening their front doors in order to commit some type of criminal mischief; hence the name, a kind of renegade pizza delivery person. Elmer and Jim had only been Vinny Sausage Pizza Headed once, but the experience had rendered them overly cautious.
Elmer opened the door tentatively to find the real Nichelle standing before him.
"I need you guys to take me to Goofy Ridge, Illinois," she said.
Elmer frowned. Jim cackled from the other room.
"Us?" cried Jim. "Why both of us?"
"Goofy Ridge," sneered Elmer, "did you just make that up? How far is it?"
"I don't care how far it is," came Jim's voice, "I'm not going."
"Fine," said Nichelle, "You want to be obstreperous, I'll ask Tott to take me."
An instant of silence ensued. Again, Jim laughed derisively. He had now come into the room to mock Nichelle.
"Good luck with that," he said, "You want to take a road trip with that guy?"
"Better than with you two lazy halfwits. Why can't you go? Things to do, people to see? Neither of you has done a thing since the hubris went solid! Elmer spends his time bemoaning the loss of 'The Kumquat Show', and you--"
She aimed a stubby finger toward Jim Misanthrope.
"You might as well be a pothead, sitting around playing video games and spouting off what a genius you are. Geniuses actually accomplish things, pinhead, in case you hadn't noticed. No one's remembered as the genius of idleness, the genius of lethargy."
The two men gawked at her, simultaneously affronted, stung, and awestruck. Elmer, tall and reedy, raised his gangly arms in surrender. Jim looked both angry and apologetic; he had become portly since leaving his last job and slumped down on a chair at the kitchen table. Nichelle backed out of the apartment and gently shut the door.
Friday, December 26, 2008
One: Watch Your Entropys and Queues
One morning, hubris ceased to be an abstract and became tangible. As a result, all the print and television journalists choked to death, leaving the bloggers to report the news. But the bloggers were really, really stupid and couldn't spell so nobody learned anything new from them.
Folk tales made a big comeback. There was the one about the guy who was tired from having gone to a movie the night before and the one about the dwarf construction worker who had pencils tied to his hard hat. No one believed the stories; in fact, people didn't believe much of anything, including things they could hear with their own eyes and see with their own noses. *
Conservatives decided conservatism was idiotic and became satanists. Liberals decided liberalism was moronic and became doughnuts. Moderates decided to stay moderate, but added random violent crime to their value system and began pillaging cities. Well, city. They seemed fixated on Tulsa and looted it over and over and over. No one knew why and they wouldn't have believed the reason even if they had known.
The great religions of the world did not abandon faith altogether, but every organized church or synagogue or mosque or temple simultaneously and coincidentally began referring to its holy deity as "Dude." This rendered matters very confusing for prospective converts, most of whom did not believe Dude's new moniker was the result of happenstance.
One day a young woman named Nichelle Trudery vowed to restore order to the world. No one believed she could do this, including her best friend, Elmer Treedweller.
"You can't do it," Elmer told her.
"You're such a naysayer. I can restore order. I know it's a tall order, but I can order the..." her voice trailed off.
Nichelle had brilliant green eyes, which some recalcitrant people called "brown", and a big nose, so no one doubted her vision, but she tended to speak in a very repetitive manner and this proved a real drawback because her voice lacked any sort of incantatory quality to indicate the repetition was deliberate.
"I can do it," she insisted to Elmer, a short thin man whose life appeared to have given him literal, rather than figurative, lemons, which accounted for his facial expression. "I might even bring back the Demonocrats and the Repulsivecans, just for a little extra normality."
Elmer nodded, admiring the fact that Nichelle seemed to know "normalcy" was just a word Warren G. Harding made up. He would help her if she asked. He had to. But he still didn't think she could do it and was not sure he wanted order to return anyway.
Dude help us all if she succeeds, he thought.
Next Installment: Episode Eye Eye (Or Nose Nose, to some)
*The general mood of incredulity became so rampant that many people decided the conventional wisdom about which organs controlled which senses must be wrong.
Folk tales made a big comeback. There was the one about the guy who was tired from having gone to a movie the night before and the one about the dwarf construction worker who had pencils tied to his hard hat. No one believed the stories; in fact, people didn't believe much of anything, including things they could hear with their own eyes and see with their own noses. *
Conservatives decided conservatism was idiotic and became satanists. Liberals decided liberalism was moronic and became doughnuts. Moderates decided to stay moderate, but added random violent crime to their value system and began pillaging cities. Well, city. They seemed fixated on Tulsa and looted it over and over and over. No one knew why and they wouldn't have believed the reason even if they had known.
The great religions of the world did not abandon faith altogether, but every organized church or synagogue or mosque or temple simultaneously and coincidentally began referring to its holy deity as "Dude." This rendered matters very confusing for prospective converts, most of whom did not believe Dude's new moniker was the result of happenstance.
One day a young woman named Nichelle Trudery vowed to restore order to the world. No one believed she could do this, including her best friend, Elmer Treedweller.
"You can't do it," Elmer told her.
"You're such a naysayer. I can restore order. I know it's a tall order, but I can order the..." her voice trailed off.
Nichelle had brilliant green eyes, which some recalcitrant people called "brown", and a big nose, so no one doubted her vision, but she tended to speak in a very repetitive manner and this proved a real drawback because her voice lacked any sort of incantatory quality to indicate the repetition was deliberate.
"I can do it," she insisted to Elmer, a short thin man whose life appeared to have given him literal, rather than figurative, lemons, which accounted for his facial expression. "I might even bring back the Demonocrats and the Repulsivecans, just for a little extra normality."
Elmer nodded, admiring the fact that Nichelle seemed to know "normalcy" was just a word Warren G. Harding made up. He would help her if she asked. He had to. But he still didn't think she could do it and was not sure he wanted order to return anyway.
Dude help us all if she succeeds, he thought.
Next Installment: Episode Eye Eye (Or Nose Nose, to some)
*The general mood of incredulity became so rampant that many people decided the conventional wisdom about which organs controlled which senses must be wrong.
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