Chapter 55:
What fun...
Constantine:
I wake up slowly, only to see that Daniel has moved to the front seat, and is now sharing something in a bottle with Rodger. They are speaking animatedly about something, but my ears are still ringing from the shock of nearly dying.
Think of the case. Think of the Gigantoboa.
I remind myself why I am doing this, and why I am going to spend even more time with the mentally unstable, senile, puffed-up...
I pinch myself on my arm.
Don’t think about the Prime Minister in such a way. What if you let it slip?
“Tine, you are awake,” Daniel says. His cheeks are rosy, and his eyes unfocused.
“Are you drunk?” I ask. Please, Great Snake of the Sky, let him not be drunk.
“The Magaza tonic is great. Less alcoholic than the wine,” he tells me, takes the bottle of one of the most alcoholic berries out there in the Cosmos, and hands it to me. “Cheers!”
I look out of the window, and see that the pillar speed bumps are still up.
“Why are we still here?” I ask.
“The car got wrecked,” Rodger says with a giggle. I blink at that. Is he drunk too? “Anyway, the engine is punctured. Good thing I parked on the pillar, or we would have splashed.”
I blink furiously, trying to keep my brain to mouth filter on. Yet, he doesn’t seem to even have one.
“I do love me a good Brain Scrambler. Did you see that cool thing I did with that surprise pillar? We nearly died. Great, huh?” He has the gall to ask. I can’t take it anymore. I try to open the door, then I find it locked. “We are out of the domed area, boy. You don’t have an oxygen mask.”
My palm meets my forehead. The slight sting helps ground me a little, Rodger’s giggle grits on my nerves, though.
“Are you even still entirely in there?” I yell, when he keeps on giggling like a loon. When he reaches out to take the Magaza bottle, I place it next to me on the back seat. “You could have gotten us all killed! Just how much more oxygen do we have in the air tanks?”
“Enough, don’t worry, worry wart,” Rodger says, and Daniel is the one who begins to giggle.
“Rod, this was the best ride I have ever had. You were like the pilot of a fighter jet,” Daniel says, and he reaches out for the bottle with the booze. I swap his hand away, determined to keep them at least able to talk. “Panty pooper!”
“I beg your pardon?” Both Rodger and I ask at the same time.
“I was talking to Tine, Rod. He won’t give me the blueberry juice,” Daniel whines. My palm meets my forehead again.
“I am really reconsidering dating you, Daniel,” I mumble, more to myself, than to him.
“Ah, little snake, don’t be like that. You are my... my... I think I will be...” Rodger hands Daniel a bag, and Daniel manages to get his head inside, before he begins to empty his stomach. I groan. Great, now I will have to smell his barf until someone comes and rescues us.
“Like I said,” Daniel continues as if nothing happened, but I can see the brown slime around his mouth. I scrunch up my nose at him. He tries to wipe at his mouth, but only succeeds in smudging the barf all over his face. “Tine!”
His whine is so pathetic, that I just have to take out my handkerchief, and move over. As embarrassing as this is, I can wipe his face clean. He has the nerve to try and kiss me, but I pinch his cheek. Hard.
“Ouch, meanie,” Daniel whines. Rodger bursts out laughing.
“So, which one of you was the one to bottle happiness?” I am sort of impressed at the geezer. He only had to repeat the word happiness three times.
“Tine, which is strange. His idea of fun is staying at home, and listening to music,” Daniel pokes out his tongue, and tries to lick my fingers. I shove the handkerchief into his mouth. He spits it out, making a face. “That was mean, Tine.”
“Behave,” I growl at him.
“That is the problem with the entire happiness bottling industry. You get potions that are bottled by introverts, that don’t know what fun is,” Rodger says, slurring his words. “Boy, the bottle!”
“You both had enough,” I yell at them. They begin to wiggle in their seats, trying to get at the bottle. After a while, both decide to give up.
“Panty pooper,” Daniel repeats himself.
“It is party pooper, you drunkard,” I say, ready to clobber him over the head.
“You are a panty pooper, but you are good in bed,” Daniel says, and then turns to Rodger. “There is this thing he does, where he has me ride him. He hits my sweet spot each time. It is spectacular.”
“Oh, is that so? Don’t you have a go at him, from time to time?” Rodger asks.
My cheeks turn the color of ripe tomatoes. I can’t believe that Daniel would go and discuss what we do in the bedroom with a stranger.
“I can?” He turns to me. “You have a butt hole?”
I take in a deep breath, and let out a yell.
“What do you mean: You have a butt hole? Just how did you think that I pooped? Did you think my feces came out from the same hole, as my dicks? For fuck’s sake, Daniel, read a book!” I immediately regret that because Daniel whimpers. “I am sorry.”
“No, you are right. I am a panty pooper,” he whimpers again, and I gulp. I don’t want to remind him that he is not a native of the Cosmos. Well, he sort of is, but not legally. Well, now he is a legal citizen, but still, he wasn’t born one, and...
I gather all my courage, and place my hands at the back of his neck.
“You are not a panty pooper. You are imaginative, and ever so curious, and I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone but you,” I say, and then kiss him. I try not to gag at the sour taste of his mouth, but it is hard. At least, he seems to have forgiven my outburst because his tongue is as enthusiastic as ever.
Chapter 55:
What fun...
Constantine:
I wake up slowly, only to see that Daniel has moved to the front seat, and is now sharing something in a bottle with Rodger. They are speaking animatedly about something, but my ears are still ringing from the shock of nearly dying.
Think of the case. Think of the Gigantoboa.
I remind myself why I am doing this, and why I am going to spend even more time with the mentally unstable, senile, puffed-up...
I pinch myself on my arm.
Don’t think about the Prime Minister in such a way. What if you let it slip?
“Tine, you are awake,” Daniel says. His cheeks are rosy, and his eyes unfocused.
“Are you drunk?” I ask. Please, Great Snake of the Sky, let him not be drunk.
“The Magaza tonic is great. Less alcoholic than the wine,” he tells me, takes the bottle of one of the most alcoholic berries out there in the Cosmos, and hands it to me. “Cheers!”
I look out of the window, and see that the pillar speed bumps are still up.
“Why are we still here?” I ask.
“The car got wrecked,” Rodger says with a giggle. I blink at that. Is he drunk too? “Anyway, the engine is punctured. Good thing I parked on the pillar, or we would have splashed.”
I blink furiously, trying to keep my brain to mouth filter on. Yet, he doesn’t seem to even have one.
“I do love me a good Brain Scrambler. Did you see that cool thing I did with that surprise pillar? We nearly died. Great, huh?” He has the gall to ask. I can’t take it anymore. I try to open the door, then I find it locked. “We are out of the domed area, boy. You don’t have an oxygen mask.”
My palm meets my forehead. The slight sting helps ground me a little, Rodger’s giggle grits on my nerves, though.
“Are you even still entirely in there?” I yell, when he keeps on giggling like a loon. When he reaches out to take the Magaza bottle, I place it next to me on the back seat. “You could have gotten us all killed! Just how much more oxygen do we have in the air tanks?”
“Enough, don’t worry, worry wart,” Rodger says, and Daniel is the one who begins to giggle.
“Rod, this was the best ride I have ever had. You were like the pilot of a fighter jet,” Daniel says, and he reaches out for the bottle with the booze. I swap his hand away, determined to keep them at least able to talk. “Panty pooper!”
“I beg your pardon?” Both Rodger and I ask at the same time.
“I was talking to Tine, Rod. He won’t give me the blueberry juice,” Daniel whines. My palm meets my forehead again.
“I am really reconsidering dating you, Daniel,” I mumble, more to myself, than to him.
“Ah, little snake, don’t be like that. You are my... my... I think I will be...” Rodger hands Daniel a bag, and Daniel manages to get his head inside, before he begins to empty his stomach. I groan. Great, now I will have to smell his barf until someone comes and rescues us.
“Like I said,” Daniel continues as if nothing happened, but I can see the brown slime around his mouth. I scrunch up my nose at him. He tries to wipe at his mouth, but only succeeds in smudging the barf all over his face. “Tine!”
His whine is so pathetic, that I just have to take out my handkerchief, and move over. As embarrassing as this is, I can wipe his face clean. He has the nerve to try and kiss me, but I pinch his cheek. Hard.
“Ouch, meanie,” Daniel whines. Rodger bursts out laughing.
“So, which one of you was the one to bottle happiness?” I am sort of impressed at the geezer. He only had to repeat the word happiness three times.
“Tine, which is strange. His idea of fun is staying at home, and listening to music,” Daniel pokes out his tongue, and tries to lick my fingers. I shove the handkerchief into his mouth. He spits it out, making a face. “That was mean, Tine.”
“Behave,” I growl at him.
“That is the problem with the entire happiness bottling industry. You get potions that are bottled by introverts, that don’t know what fun is,” Rodger says, slurring his words. “Boy, the bottle!”
“You both had enough,” I yell at them. They begin to wiggle in their seats, trying to get at the bottle. After a while, both decide to give up.
“Panty pooper,” Daniel repeats himself.
“It is party pooper, you drunkard,” I say, ready to clobber him over the head.
“You are a panty pooper, but you are good in bed,” Daniel says, and then turns to Rodger. “There is this thing he does, where he has me ride him. He hits my sweet spot each time. It is spectacular.”
“Oh, is that so? Don’t you have a go at him, from time to time?” Rodger asks.
My cheeks turn the color of ripe tomatoes. I can’t believe that Daniel would go and discuss what we do in the bedroom with a stranger.
“I can?” He turns to me. “You have a butt hole?”
I take in a deep breath, and let out a yell.
“What do you mean: You have a butt hole? Just how did you think that I pooped? Did you think my feces came out from the same hole, as my dicks? For fuck’s sake, Daniel, read a book!” I immediately regret that because Daniel whimpers. “I am sorry.”
“No, you are right. I am a panty pooper,” he whimpers again, and I gulp. I don’t want to remind him that he is not a native of the Cosmos. Well, he sort of is, but not legally. Well, now he is a legal citizen, but still, he wasn’t born one, and...
I gather all my courage, and place my hands at the back of his neck.
“You are not a panty pooper. You are imaginative, and ever so curious, and I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone but you,” I say, and then kiss him. I try not to gag at the sour taste of his mouth, but it is hard. At least, he seems to have forgiven my outburst because his tongue is as enthusiastic as ever.
