Punk rock dating: chapters 64-67

Punk rock dating: Chapter 64: Getting down to business...

Business:

January 1st, 2008 12:05 p.m.:

The Balcony of Dorothy's Highrise:

"What do you mean I have my Father's soul?"

"You see, Dorothy, Similar to what I have done, converting my consciousness into data, Orion downloaded just enough of his mind and memories to carry on his mission onto a small computer chip. Do you remember when he was adjusting your corsage?" asked the good Professor Patina, now a pussy pink MP3 player.

Dorothy stared out into the twinkling trash heap of the city, the celebratory shouts of the New Year party-goers echoing off the canyon walls

"Yes...I do remember. That's why...I mean... That was the reason my Mother killed my Father, because she was told by Escorpion that my Father was going to download you into my brain..."

"Which I'd like to point out now is obviously incorrect," interrupted Patina.

"... But my Mother must have seen him put the chip in my corsage and thought that..."

Dorothy started to choke up.

"I take it you still have the corsage?"

Dorothy bolted past the revelers in her house and ran into her main bedroom. She flicked on the lights (obviously surprising the drunk couple getting it on her bed), and threw open the doors of her closet.

Underneath a pile of fine living magazines and a bowling ball was a small shoebox.

"Under the bowling ball? For goodness sakes, Dorothy!" scolded Patina.

"Will you shut up? How was I supposed to know?!?!?!" She took the box from the closet.

Inside the old box were her various treasures from throughout the years, a lock of her Mother's hair, some old photos of her and her Mother, rocks she'd collected on the beach as a child, her marble collection...

"You've thrown the soul of the great Orion into a box of rocks and marbles?!?! We'll be lucky the poor dear isn't retarded after all this!"

"Patina! I told you to shut up!"

The drunken couple looked on in astonishment as Dorothy conversed with herself.

"Will you two get OUT OF HERE?!?!" screamed Dorothy, throwing a handful of marbles at them.

She then returned to the task at hand, digging out from beneath a pile of memories, the battered old silk corsage...

"Yes! This is it!" Patina exclaimed excitedly.

And between its withered petals was indeed, a small microchip.

"My Father...he's on this?"

"Yes!"

"You mean, he's a freak like you, Patina?"

"Yes! I mean no, he's not a freak but he is like me in that he is no longer flesh and blood... He is now information...an intellect that can be downloaded into a computer..."

The dark started to lift from Dorothy's shoulders...and the real trouble was about to begin.




Join us tomorrow when the trouble begins...



Punk rock dating chapter 65: The Flutey Flute:

Clandestine Meeting:

New York City. January 15th 2008:

Dorothy was anxious.

"I take it we're shielded?"

"Yes. I have my own set of psychic assassins protecting us from any SCORPIO intrusion," Aigipan reassured, "It also seems you have protection of your own..."

Dorothy rolled her eyes, "Oh, probably Dr. Coorgan. He follows me around, protecting me...I never see him though...He’s usually hiding, I guess…"

"Well, in these times we need all the help we can get..."

"The chip," Patina reminded the two, "How is Orion's chip?"

"Well," well-ed Aigipan, tousling his hair, "You were right to bring him to us, CAPRICORN is a haven of hidden technologies, we have our top experts using the most advanced 22nd century data retrieval methods... We're close, I think. I'd say in about two more weeks we may have some success. But even if we do access the files, it's hard to say what kind of shape they're in..."

"But it can be done?" asked Patina.

"It will be done," Aigipan smiled weakly.

"We can't thank you enough, Mr. Aigipan..." Professor Patina gushed.

"It's always a pleasure to work with the House of LIBRA..."

"Yes, the house of CAPRICORN has been instrumental in the development of Project 54, " Patina agreed.

Aigipan shot Dorothy a grave stare. "Just do me a favor..."

"What?"

"Don't get mixed up in SCORPIO! Leave now! While there's still something good in you! You have an incredible support system that will protect you from Escorpion..."

Dorothy stood mute in the piss of sleet...Flag frozen to the pole...A grey sheet...The streetlight dimmed...shadows devoured themselves...She slowly raised her grey eyes.

"I don't think there's anything that can protect me from Escorpion now.”




Join us Tomorrow when we find out where clip-on ties come from! I'm serious.....



Punk rock dating chapter 66 : What Do I Say to Her?

The yoctosecond of relative well being:

Early 2008:

Clement Allsworth's Perpetually Filthy House:

Clement Allsworth attempted to straighten his tie, but such a thing was impossible, for his tie was born crooked.

1976, the year of the dragon:

Behold! A beautiful Chinese Summer. That alluring time of year when the lotus is at its fullest bloom.

In an especially sweltering textile plant in the district of Guangdong (renowned for their fine clip-on ties) a sheet of polyester is crimped in one of the industrial sewing machines.

The crimp in this fabric is overlooked by a lazy supervisor and a dishonorable tie is made from this imperfect material.This damaged tie is later sent to the United States where it sits on a shelf at a JC Penney’s for 30 years before the brown and orange paisley swirl catches the discerning eye of Clement Allsworth.

"Swinging!" Clement beamed in the mirror.

The academy, still buzzing from 2003's "Pop Fortunes", had enlisted Clement to present the award for "Best Typeface in a Vampire Love Story" award at this year's "Literary Choice Awards" ceremony. Clement's existence up to this point had been long and miserable. He walked around in perpetual disillusionment. He had money, respect from the literary community, and women lined up to get to know this reclusive phantom but none of it was ever even close to being enough.

But on this night Clement Allsworth felt contented for what the cosmic clock officially timed as exactly 1.5 yoctoseconds.

Which is a long time when you're measuring relative happiness.

Little did Clement or the Cosmic Clock know that this would be the night that Clement first met the seemingly innocuous young girl that would haunt this old ghost for the remainder of his life...

"I was better off just staying at home," Mr. Allsworth cried later in 2025, tying his own noose.

Clement was much more skilled at tying nooses than neckties.

Because what purpose does a necktie serve, really?

As the limo pulled up to the Hilden Hotel (site of that year's Literary Choice Awards), Clement stepped out of the car, took one final pull from his Yoo-Hoo and walked onto the red carpet...

"Hello, Mr. Sparks?" asked an especially vacant paparazzi.

"Who?" squinted Clement, blinded by the flashbulbs.

"Aren't you Nicholas Sparks?"

"Uhhh...no, Ma'am...my name's Clement Allsworth...I think..."

"Oh," the dazed girl put down her microphone.

The cameraman encouraged her to keep rolling...

"So," She continued, "Why are you here tonight? Are you a writer?"

"Yes, Ma'am, I wrote a couple or fifty books...but I'm here as a presenter tonight..."

"Ooooo. Are you excited to meet Nicholas Sparks backstage?"

"I...I dunno... I'm embarrassed to say I don't read a whole lot really... 'Cept for T.V Guide, they have some pretty useful articles in there sometimes... I guess..."

"Oookay, Mr...."

"Allsworth"

The girl smiled vacantly back into the camera. "Well, Mr. Allsworth, good luck tonight and..."

"I...I'm not up for any awards..."

"You know what I mean...”

Security forced Clement indoors...

...forced him right past a certain Ms. (five seconds of silence).

With each complimentary vodka martini, Marty's shirt became more and more untucked...

"Did you ever think you'd be at the Literary Choice Awards? Hobnobbing with the big shots?" he asked Marie Lansing.

"No, it's quite the honor. "

Marie was lying. Since that first paycheck nothing had been a surprise to Marie.

When she was working out the mathematical equation of her life, she accurately figured that she should have made sufficient waves in the literary community to have such honors bestowed upon her by this point.

She did realize she must have missed a decimal point or had forgotten to carry a two, since she was merely a presenter and not a nominee.

"You've come a long way," said a familiar voice.

Marie instantly turned around, "Dorothy!"

Dorothy hid behind black sunglasses and a withered heart, "I'm sorry if my presence here has upset you...it's just that..."

"Uhhh...Dorothy, Ms. Lansing... " Marty interrupted, sensing tension, "I'm going to make my way backstage...I heard Nicholas Sparks is here and I just wanted to finally get the chance to tell him how much 'The Notebook' meant to me..."

"Yes, go ahead! Give Mr. Sparks my regards..."

"Will do," Marty stumbled off.

"Is Marty gay..." pondered Marie.

"No... just a Nicholas Sparks fan," answered Dorothy, swishing the Chardonnay around in her half empty glass.

"Why did you leave me in the middle of the night, dammit?" Marie snapped through gritted teeth finally getting down to business.

"If it's about the bottle of wine I stole I can replace it! I'll have Marty write you a check and..."

"It's not about the wine, and I am into the whole one night stand thing but say 'goodbye' at least..."

"I'm sorry," Dorothy said coldly.

"You're not sorry..."

"But I'm trying to be...Which is a lot more than I used to be able to do..."

Marie stared at Dorothy a minute, arms folded, silent.

"So you wanna do it again after the ceremony?"

"God, yes," Dorothy orgasmed.

"Mrs. Lansing?" cautiously asked the gofer, shaking behind his clipboard.

"It's MIZZ Lansing!"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Lansing but...it's time for you to go on now..."

"See you after the show?" Marie confirmed.

Dorothy nodded.

"Good... don't leave without me..." Marie said, slightly stumbling over her heels in the rush to get onstage.

The crowd roared.

The lion slept.

"I'm not so sure you should be getting into relationships with these starlets at this point, Dorothy...I'd like to get you away from this kind of thing..." her iPod warned her. "I don't think it's good for your well-being..."

Dorothy had grown weary of the Professor's constant haranguing.

"Jesus, you sound like my Father..."

"Your Father was a great man, Dorothy, don't ever forget that," Professor Patina reminded.

"How could I possibly know that? I hardly ever saw him!"

The painful memories made her gulp down the last of her wine.

"I know you don't want to hear this, but as an adult you've got to understand that your Father's mission was of the utmost importance..."

"You sound like a broken record, Patina..."

"No, aside from the small skip in track 31, 'Graduation Day' my audio files are quite intact...Hopefully we can say the same for Orion. Luckily, we have Mr. Aigipan hard at work on restoring them. If only you had taken better care of them..."

"How was I supposed to know he hid a chip in my corsage?" Dorothy defended. "We're lucky I even kept it! Most people throw those things away!"

"He knew it would be special..." Patina clarified, "Because it was from the last night you and Orion had spent together. Quite ingenious! But that was your Father...I could go on for hours and hours..."

"Enough already!"

The Professor was taken aback by Dorothy's rudeness. "Although I wish your Father had been ingenious enough to teach you common courtesy!"

"Listen, Patina! You want me to switch you off again?!?!" Dorothy threatened.

"No, No! Anything but that!"

"Alright then! Just give me one night of peace. You can start guilt-tripping me again tomorrow...Besides, Marie isn't like those other party girls or those fun boys I normally associate with...She's different. She's really got her life together. I think I admire that..."

The nervous gofer returned again, speaking with a mouthful of antacids, "Excuse me, Ms (five seconds of silence)...you have a call!"

"Who is it?" Dorothy snapped.

"He wouldn't say his name... he just said to tell you it was the Commissioner..."

Dorothy ran to the phone.

"Hello?" she spoke into the receiver.

"Yes, Dorothy, I'm afraid I have some bad news..."

"Just tell me!"

"Aigipan is dead."

"What do you mean he's dead?!"

"I just received word," the Commissioner's voice sounded so old and frail over the phone, the harsh old man that used to exist was no longer there, buried beneath years of quiet life and strong Southern manner. "Aigipan was killed in his apartment. I sent Dr. Coorgan over to do some psychic reconnaissance..."

"What did they find?"

"Judging by the residual psychic vibrations found in the room, whoever the killer was had 'Be-Bop-A-Lula’ stuck in his head..."

"Planet-Bill!" Dorothy clenched her teeth.

"Yes, that and the American Spirit cigarettes we found in the ashtray led us to the same conclusion... As if all this news wasn't bad enough..."

"No,no,no," Dorothy pleaded to God or somebody.

"Orion's chip is gone..."

The tears welled up in her eyes as she recalled Aigipan's warnings, as she saw him step into the mouth of night for the last time...

"It's gone?"

"Yes Dorothy, and it's a pretty safe bet SCORPIO has it... And get this... Shortly after Aigipan was killed someone used his pass card to get into CAPRICORN labs and steal the blueprints for the Psychic Projector..."

"This is not good, Dorothy..." the Professor panicked.

"Patina, I told you not to listen in on my calls!"

"I don't know if you get it or not, Dorothy! The Psychic Projector was the one thing SCORPIO still needed in order to pull off their 'Sacred Grove' genocide!"

"I get it, I get it, we're screwed," sighed Dorothy.

"We are unless we do something!" Professor Patina reassured.

"We have good Intel saying we're screwed either way," you could hear the Commissioner light up his stogie over the phone.



Join us tomorrow-ish for more of "Partyin'" Marty Hardy and the Solid Gold Dancers....



Punk rock dating chapter 67: The History of Things We'll Never Get...

"For Dorothy, Drawings of Dying Clocks:

I cannot remember when the things that I have were the things that I wanted,

I take a look at the pictures on the wall and I cannot remember when these faces were strangers,

The years of dodged calls and dodgy excuses,

I couldn't stand the thought that anyone knows me,

eyes like a puzzle and a mind that's still searching,

can I have the comfort of not knowing the answer?

I let the clocks die so I could make the time up.

I want to know what it's like to forget ticking moments,

was there a time I didn't know what time was?

Today I want to forget where my face is,

Misplace all the names of the those that I know, and get the pleasure of meeting all these wonderful people that I call my friends all over again...

Would you still love me or am I miles away?

I imagine the strings holding each of us together, fraying from years of too many directions,

I say goodbye to someone everyday, It never crossing my mind I'll never see them again...

Planes of existence colliding on a day to day basis the faceless hellos and the baseless accusations, the things that I mean and the things that I hide and the humming intelligent engines all buzzing outside and the flashes of electric impulses that sometimes come together add up to a picture that each day becomes bigger, I tried to unwind all the tangled-up lines but I can't find my way from my mind to your mind...

- Julie Hales, 2010."

Sometimes in the quiet I call my mind Henry.

Hello, Henry!



Join us tomorrow as I sober up and attempt to get back to the story or something.....