ROGER MM&Ms THE BOSS
Time flies by like time flying by. Or other things that fly by in due course, noticed as such; or your car parked outside your house that isn't there in the morning. You get a nice helpful woman speaking to you and saying how awful it is, that theft never happens to anyone she has heard of, apart from everyone, they will definately look into it by studying Flakelook carefully for everyone they have a name to, that ends with her sending you a brochure on victim recovery techniques for the unprepared. Complete assistance for the working class heroes who really do need that steady job bowling politician's heads at land mines.
Roger was flicking stones into a pond as the dawn was coming up on a planet not unlike Earth, except in most chemical ways. He got a message on his Feiry from Delilah.
Well, it had to happen sometime. He flicked another pebble and watched it bounce off the head of a stoned frog. It spun sideways and sank straight away.
That's exactly what I am talking about,
He shouted accusingly at the nonchalont tree on his left.
Roger sighed. He flipped home to find Delilah, who had her own Fiery in hand, relishing a cup of warm water against the abject drizzle of what passed its days as weather in uptown Basingstoke, downtown from the uptown, and near the downtown bits, specially on Thursdays when there is a Q in the month for petrol and autographed by Minger the Mercilesser. She was looking through old videos of her family doing a bit of tree leaping and banana eating.
She barely looked up to glance at Roger's appearance.
puffed Roger, slapping his paws on his thighs and looking intently at the hole in the roof.
He sat down on the sofa and stuck a hotel bar of soap in his left ear. Usually a good move; this time, nothing. He looked at the slivver of mirror on the wall next to his ample growing collection of mouse tails.
He looked at Delilah's feet, and then compared them to his hind paws, and noticed as he did so that Delilah's tail was watching him with the attention of a Doberman just before it rips your face off.
He scratched the number in the top newspaper of the sofa. Then he noticed that 2 was all over the pages of all the papers the sofa was made of that he could see.
He got a message from the BOSS in Moronicocoa written in MM-MM.
He translated it through Vietnamese into Cantonese via Japanese using his specially tainted chopticks. Reading it in Thai, it meant nothing to him. He tried Algebra, Sibelius, Sumerian, Whalesong, Dolphin, Catatonic and finally, Coptic written backwards as by Leonardo in a mirror, in case the Velspays were watching in a dialect of Chilterns.
Finally bored with getting to that place where he did not want to go, he hit the translate button, and the phrase,
COME 2 SEE ME NOW ARSE FACE
appeared with friendly relish and a happy meme.
Which is what he thought it said in the first place, but decided to remain stoutly in denial.
Roger said after a think,
What happened to that evolved elephant we met in Killcody last summer?
She said flatly, still dourly watching her videos...
The big male...what happened to him?
Loads shelves in Sainsbury's in Gloucester. Or did a few weeks back. And runs the better half of the galaxy from a 200 year old matchbook he got at Daisy's Tea Shop in Abingdon, 1822,
Why all the 2's?
Roger was exasperated. He got up and wandered around their magnificent small cardboard box, in some show of confusion.
2' s on the roof. 2' s on the floor. 2' s on the sofa. 2' s in messages. Everywhere there are 2's.
Yeah. Its too strange,
I'm going to see the BOSS. Find out what he wants. Bye.
Roger said, flipping out as he ended.
The BOSS was sat at his office desk made from large bits of an aircraft carrier with some of the fireworks still there. In his office, the size of Liechtenstein, visitors would flip from one end to his desk at the other to save the three hour walk. Roger arrived at his desk mid afternoon, having been kept waiting supported by a friendly ox who held him quietly on the end on one of his less sharp horns by his gagging bag straps while it stood still and snorted gently, slightly akin to a tank idling its engine to keep it warm in winter.
Pleasantries to one side, a conversation ensued that put Roger in a bit of a pickle; or anyway, the ox did, to make a point that the BOSS would very much like the tin that he sent him to get before, but that Roger had decided to go out alone and get; and then hidden it somewhere on Alphasuvius Prrr7^[email protected]
Please. After he emptied his revolver at Roger's hind paws.
The one interesting fact about the MM-MM language is that its possible to move from using 417 symbols to say NO; or simply flex the left cheek jowl and inhale through the teeth, plus a mixed myopia of condescending possibilities in between. A language preferred by beings who mostly have their witnesses dangling over pits of boiling oil or their finger just over the button of a Fiery to flip them into a super nova- or worse.
Having explained that the tin in question was moved while flipping about, and was now actually nowhere to speak of, Roger was given the approved two hours to come up with the goods, or be chased down by a bundle of Fiery imbued oxen who had just suffered cuts to their salaries, with the specific instructions to have his composite electrons microwoven across the universe at the Radishers Annual Prink and Spue Festive Sentient Decant Awards, due to happen the next day; in whose honour this year, Leonard Nimoy's clone was to be the host.
Having been released, and showering in a tropical storm somewhere South of Havana to remove the sticky lemon and cheese pickle, Roger flipped out to see his favorite person in all the known dimensions, Dr Velcron, at his plush luxury toilet condo on Nowhere.
Hello. How are you these days?
Roger asked Dr Velcron as the ox put him on the lab floor and exited stage left at speed. The Doc turned round to see who it was, and ran out of the room as well, shouting,
No. No more of your wierdy physical movey thingy non-cloning dirty filth...noooooo,
and disappeared down a corridor.
Roger was left alone in the lab. He looked around in the quiet. It appeared that the Doc was into an experiment on some being with lufas for limbs and sponges for a head and body, on the lab table with many connections to the apparatus. Roger put the gearbox into PARK, turned off the machinery and pulled off the wires from the afflicted.
Roger asked the thing.
It replied in a dialect of mangling cheesepuffs.
But I suppose I will be soon. When I get my brain back.
Ah. Brain. Don't concern yourself too much about that. Mine never did me much good,
I know you,
The creature said, looking directly at Roger, who felt it might have been better to come in a disguise of a large flamingo that was covering up being a zealous spider looking for a mate to eat its cake and have too.
Roger said as he smiled the smile of a used car salesman that couldn't remember every customer he had stiffed, explaining
I've been on Galactic Dimension Vision a bit here and there, it's true...
No, not that. You're... Roger the evolved cat from Planet Earth. In the Sheetty constellation. I'm very happy to meet you. You're famous down our way. Ho yes, famous.
It said as it sat on the edge of the table, and put out one of its two starfish to shake Roger's paw.
After Roger had his paw shaken vigorously in a happy meeting, Roger asked
And you are...?
Oh. Yes. I'm BuxinTwestFinealkimbutt. The 2nd. The 3rd of me got slimed by a quadriplegic muffoiler on Radiclon 2. In the 2-clone invasion. Last midmuth. Very pleased to meet you Roger. By the way, do you happen to have any asparagus about your persona non grata at all?
Not today....sorry. Were you getting mind drained by Dr Velcron?
Yes, it just started as you came. Fortunate. In fact, I owe you a favour. Is there something I could do for you?
Just a minute,
He smacked the floor under the table with his tail, and a small door popped open. Roger reached in and got a bag of tinnies out, and put them in his gagging bag. Just then, he heard a noise that sounded like a heavily shielded Dr Velcron and oxen by the side coming his way to do damage. He programmed the Fiery, and flipped them both out to a hotel on a cliff somewhere he didn't know, which turned out to be 2 star, and no bar.
This is no good,
Roger said, and flipped out a second time. They arrived at a superb hotel with a lot of warm water and sloping luxurious sides, on the best beach on Mammononia 2. Roger nodded to his new friend as they seated themselves in the plush scented bushes by the bar, and the telepathic waiters instantly delivered two large whisky's, two G&T's, two Cognac's and two bowls of cheese and chutney diced mouse noses.
This is very nice. Who pays for all this then?
The creature asked, taking in the ambiance.
It comes off my Pukepal account. Telepathically linked to my underwear,
Roger replied, and went on,
So, tell me then, Buxombutt, what's your story, eh?
Well. Let me see...
he replied, taking some serious swigs as he tried to remember...
Oh yes. I recall now, I was somewhere going to somewhere, and then I was Nowhere, paying taxes. Ah. I remember a python...and a chess game...or something. No. there were two things. A small angry heliotrope and a miffed lizard named Biggles. Oh no. It was a big miffed heliotrope and a small lizard named Angus. Yes that was it. What was I talking about now?
About getting your brain back, I think,
Roger replied, slurping his G&T.
Tell me about yourself. You mentioned doing me a favour, if you recall that much,
Roger stated, looking Buxombutt in the eye.
Oh yes. No problem. I will. I do recall, I mean. It's like this,
it said, quaffing a cognac and munching some nibbles,
I come from Hellvettica 2, The Enunciation. Its more of an event than a place. In the upper Dim's. This is just my physical presence here, dressed as I am. Usually, I dont bother to dress and wear space suits.
You mean, you wear a suit IN space? Like a Fielder old-style?
Not quite. I WEAR space. It suits me. Or so, my followers tell me. I think, although I will probably remember for sure, its all a haze right now; that I was someone important. With large...things.
It said, indicating fullness affront with its starfish.
And a huge....thingy,
It added, indicating its behind area.
Anyway, I got into some... difficulties somewhere, due to...something...that was really improbable, all told. And then I ended up flipped out to Nowhere, and that Dr Velcron had his ideas up and running, as you found me.
Roger said, not really caring too much, and ordering some more drinks which arrived as he did so.
Wait a bit. You said you WEAR space? As it suits you? That's a new one twice times,
added Roger, getting a grip.
Oh yes. You see, as I said, I'm not really FROM anywhere, or a being in the literal sense. More of a sentient EVENT that gets focused on from time to time. In any dimension you care to look into. Dr Velcron wet himself when he found out it was me, so to speak...
What d'you mean? He was scared? Angry?
Oh no. He was ecstatic. I remember everything that ever was, you see. I am spacetime. In a fixed point. A bit like...like... the only real clock that ever was. No. The only video of everything that there ever will be. Or something. Like that. Maybe. If you see what... if you see what I mean...
I'm sure you'll remember soon enough. In fact, wait here a bit, and I'll be back...
Roger stated, then flipped out and was back before Buxombutt was epsiloned.
Roger said, giving Buxombutt a small fingernail sized cube of puss smelling goop, adding,
I got this from Dr Velcron's lab just now. Its your... file I think.
Oh. This is fantastic. Thanks so much,
it said, sliding the small cube into where a left ear would otherwise humanly be.
Oh bloody hell. I mean Ah yes, really. Thats a Frobisher in the Whoopsies...oh.
It said, reeling in the addition to the life event.
I think its like having a 1956 Chrysler Stationeer shoved up the jacksie.
It said some more, wavering in a way that Roger could not quite tell if it was the drinks or the injection of raw data.
Relax a bit. Relax, slow down. Listen to my voice...just my voice,
said Roger easing into his best hypnotist act.
Naw. Don't bother. Entertaining as you are, It has no effect on me. But; tell me if I can get YOU something good, as a mark of respect.
How about some endless existence? Or running a galaxy or two for fun on Mondays when you are in the shittiest of moods? Or anything your heart desires....?
It asked to Roger.
Ah. Now. Let me explain something to YOU,
Roger said, feeling a little dizzy for no reason he could comprehend as he downed another hefty double, and went on,
Two things. Yes, two things I need to know and how now. Now. How.
OK, what are they then,
It asked, slurping another large G&T like there was never going to be anymore ever.
WHAT ARE THEY?
Roger asked, and fell off his chair with some grace and style.
WHAT ARE THESE TWO THINGS?
Roger said from the floor, which he felt was the safest and most comfortable floor he had ever laid on with his front paws in the air.
ITS DRIVING ME BANANAS! TWO OF THIS AND TWO OF THAT. ITS BEEN LIKE THIS FOR...FOR TWO WEEKS.
He ended exasperated as a waiter delivered two bowls of fresh fruit, two daiquiri's and a double belled inflating cushion.
I can see that would cause you anxiety in any respects, for anyone with this issue. Delilah included,
It said thoughtfully, ruminating on Roger's circumstance.
I think its so improbable that its an utter certainty. Like your universe. When things get so far off course, and because the universe is totally bent- in fact, disc shaped on the whole- they end up where you want them to be; or at least, that's where beings usually stop in case they find out they are made of wax from the ear of a stegosaurus roach...
You stop blathering right there,
Roger riposted as he got up, still holding a drink,
You stop there because I know you know what. Don't you? Are you going to tell me or not?
Roger squared up across the table full of empty glasses just as an alarm buzzer sounded and his Fiery leapt up and slapped his whiskers left and right and left again, shouting TIME TIME your TIME TIME is NOW NOW, whereupon the other bar guests paid their bills by snapping their fingers, toes or other stuff that would snap, and started to make their ways to the exits in sullen groups. Buxombutt took a last gulp of G&T,put the glass on the table and rather dramatically said,
Yes I will.
And then paused as he wrung his sponge mouth parts out before going on with,
I only exist as an event, right? And every event is always happening everywhere, no matter what the gravity of it is. So, its always now for me. So, I can see things you cant, across all space time. In this universe. And a few more you dont even want to dream about, too. Now; your issue is two, and that's all, yes?
How do you- is that how you know about Delilah? You see her as well? Through me as a connection?
Roger was zonking along at good speed today...
it said, nodding as a full tray of cognac arrived with fruit cutlery designed for starfish to hold.
So pi is not pizza in bits; its a lasagna then?
It's all curved.
And two is about what then exactly, huh?
Yes. It is about what then exactly. Here.
It gave Roger a twisted arm lock that removed his fur above his left paw in the shape of a group of tidily seared numbers,
That'll start to hurt when the tranquilizer wears off....sometime now, I think.
replied Roger, his arm starting to sting as if it had been injected with Lillabijot bee juice.
It chinked glasses as Roger's arm went forwards with the reaction to the pain, and said,
Cheers then. Remember what I say. Its all right here now. Not then. Now. And you will get to meet both of you very soon, I think, too.
Are you talking about this circular universe then? I mean now? Is that it?
Roger said through clenched teeth as he forced down a large scotch to reduce the arm pain.
it said cryptically.
Don't concern yourself about the BOSS. He has much bigger problems these days than you. Or was that tomorrow? Hmmm...anyway, can you hit the send button now please on your Fiery? There look, by you claw. Yes, that's it. There.
It said, pointing to Roger's Fiery.
Roger got out.
Don't worry. You programmed it for me tomorrow before we met today. Its just that I needed to have this me-me time with you so you understand, Gillian. I mean Roger, sorry. Sorry. You look the spit of someone I know well. Sorrrry.
Well, I have to get on. Places to go, beings to...to be around with the 1st of me. Its been nice. See you soon yesterday. Midmush.
It ended leaning forwards across the table with a whisper to Roger,
I suggest you get the eff out of here now and take Dee with you,
it smiled and waved a starfish digit down to press Roger's claw onto the GO button of the Fiery. Then it was flipped out.
The alarm sounded again on the Fiery as it slapped his whiskers with such rabid abandon that Roger was knocked back to the comfort of the floor once more, just as an earthquake happened.
That's unusual...he thought to himself. He saw the sky suddenly darken down and move a bit to the left...so he got up, pressed the emergency button on the Fiery and just caught a glimpse around to see the empty crushed bar was surrounded by about 2,222 tons of oxen; presumably there for a special party. Landing on the green planet at the cabin of Capitano frog wrangler extraordinaire, he messaged Dee to meet him, like Now, as in now now now. He exchanged a few words with the retired Monkmink, and flipped out.
It was at Gillian's cabin he met Dee, and had a bad coffee and good whisky thrust into his paws as Dee had a tinned asparagus shoved in her agog gob, by the fire that lit up for them.
The A.I. said.
And friend. Your pajamas are pre-warmed and freshly pressed on the bed next to the equipment, Gillian. Anything else I can get you?
Put the force fields on max. Now.
said the A.I.
You are now safely encased between existence and life, beyond the beyond, and near the pub. Drink anyone? Some revolting music perhaps? Holographic nude sticky jam dancing?
The A.I. went on expectantly, being as it had never seen more than a solo living thing there, to cater for the party spirit.
No. Thanks. We're just fine all the same. And cut the music too,
Roger told the A.I. The music stopped.
How's your orange juice then?
Dee said after taking a test sip followed by a gulp, and
No. Yes. No. Probably. I think I am in the box, Dee...
Replied Roger, taking a large drink, saluting Dee and passing out as if he was walking down stairs backwards, in front of the fire.
More next time in Have Tench Sure Gone Asked to Abstain;
Roger meets a windup toy of the BOSS that lapdances while juggling tapioca,
Delilah learns how to cook using only concentration and a single flip flop,
And who the eff is Gillian anyway and what is her name-stitched underwear doing in Roger's gagging bag?
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