Thursday, February 25, 2010

Consider This Your Warning

Two years ago I tired of the three adventurers form Hartsdale (you'll be happy to learn that the contingency to change the town's name failed to garner enough support so the town keeps it's name), and I figured I'd likely never write about them again. To this day, that holds true (granted, I did repost their exploits, but have not written anything beyond the one-shot which will likely not repost anytime soon. There's no point in doing so at the moment).

However, revisiting their exploits (in addition to sheer inspiration upon waking up not long ago) you have nothing to fret over. In other words:


Second upon a time three intrepid explorers were properly dressed for what they were about to do. Each wore a beige jumpsuit, a little baggy looking, but still figure flattering; finished off by black leather belts and heavy lug soled calf high boots.

Robert, Priscilla, and Rockefeller – Rocky (cuz it’s easier to type and he happens to like HIS nickname) stand looking like unarmed Ghostbusters on the polished, smooth concrete floor of the otherwise empty building, save for the bus with the dog pictures on it which once belonged to a popular cross country bus line. The three clomped their way to the awaiting vehicle. Rocky stopped at the open door.

“Ladies first, Pris,” he smiled trying to offend her. Of course, she really was prissy, so she just smiled and boarded. Rocky stole an admiring glance at her derriere and swung on board once Robert had.

“Okay, Bobby boy, where to?” Rocky asked once Robert had made himself comfortable in the driver’s seat. Robert couldn’t talk that well, so he made a bizarre series of hand gestures which neither of his teammates could ever dream of deciphering, and he tore off out of the hangar like the Magical Mystery Bus. Robbie (as we’ll now refer to him) made a sudden gesture with his arms like he was protecting his face from pending impact and even vocalized a whine or moan of some sort which caught the other two’s attention. The bus swerved a little bit without Robbie holding the wheel.

“Robbie, this isn’t ‘Speed’ and there’s not a bomb on board so you can relax, buddy,” Rocky called forward from his seat across the aisle from Prissy. She sat with her feet together and her hands in her lap. Rock raised an eyebrow at his thought of pranking her, but relegated that to the back of his mind.

The sunset was tropical, like those photos of Californian ones, which go from purple to orange top to bottom, and they were driving into it. Priscilla eased a demure set of headphones over her ears and after the lull of a cushy ride, soothing music and the monotony of nightfall, had fallen asleep. Noticing Prissy’s eyes were closed, he quietly made his way to the floor at her feet and stealthily undid the bows of her boot laces, intertwining the round cotton/polyester strings into an utter mess capped off with all kinds of knots that would keep a genius busy for hours trying to correct.

Their ride came to an abrupt stop halfway across the Pennsylvania Turnpike, causing Rocky’s dense skull to smack against a seat mount. He picked himself up just as Robbie was immediately returning from a pit stop (it was THAT instantaneous).

“All set already?” Rocky asked. Robbie nodded yes and was closing the door again, but Rocky had moved alongside and stopped him. Priscilla’s eyes opened at the cooler night air wafting in through the open door and the suggestion of vision dictated her desire to also visit a restroom.

“Give us time to go too, Robbie,” Rocky instructed and dismounted before knowing Priscilla was awake. He would have enjoyed watching her struggle to walk with her boots tied together. Instead he witnessed first hand how strong she could be when she punched him as they passed in the parking lot; she going in laces flailing and loose so very unladylike, and he on his way back to the bus feeling really good until her punch.

Once Pris had clomped back onto the bus and seated herself, Robbie hit the gas and they were off like a spit ball out of a straw, leaving dual trails of rubber in their wake. Their highway coach’s tail end swung to the left out from behind it but under Robbie’s skillful racing appendages, came back into line obediently.

“Hey, this isn’t ‘Spice World’ so cool it,” Rock-head instructed to his teammate at the helm of the highway vessel.

As the next morning awoke, the three jumpsuited adventurers dismounted their rubber clad liner into the chilly pastel Spring air amidst yawns and stretches. Rocky leaned to his left to glare at Priscilla’s figure as she bent at the waist to finally retie her heavy boots. She caught him though in her peripherals.

“You’re a jerk,” she informed facing him.
“What?” Rocky defended playing innocent. Robbie made an M with his arms like he was dancing to the Village People. It was a bizarre sight as he was in direct line with the golden arches of a famous fast food location. It was after all where he wanted to eat breakfast. While it looked empty and normal from the outside, once they walked inside however it was more like a disco club. A driving disco beat loop lulled the hundreds of patrons into a trance like state of keeping the beat with a part of their body (some their feet, some hands or fingers, some their heads, some their tails).

Their tails realized Pris as she slowly walked along the full to capacity bar rail. All kinds of lights and lasers in all the colors of the spectrum danced about the establishment and reflected off of mirror balls which spun at different rpms and really disoriented her and Rocky. Robbie whipped around the far corner of the bar making a ‘yummy’ gesture with his hand on his stomach and headed back for the bus. The other two followed knowing they walked into a bizarre adventure they weren’t ready for and exited the Disco Arches only to find the real adventure had begun outside...

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