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Monster Media 1994 #2
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Monster Media No. 2 (Monster Media)(1994).ISO
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RUBY36-7
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1994-08-14
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153 lines
Copyright 1994(c)
STRAIGHT TO L
By Buzz Lange
"Yes, may I help you?" perked the lovely lady at the desk.
"..Uh..Ok.." I answered, stupid after passing through the
revolving door.
"Whom do you wish to see?" she crossed, keeping me ever on
track.
"..See?.." I began, reaching deep into my erased memory for
some grip on just why it was that I was in there. "..Who?"
"Yes, sir, whom did you wish to see?" She deftly slid the
tasty roster of fools that were incarcerated in the office building
over in front of me. She smiled.
"..Ah.." I shifted my gaze from her porcelain facade and
looked down at the miniature billboard that was sliding in my
direction. The letters on the board stood out and danced before
me, all the colors and shapes were screaming for my attention. My
eyes blinked. They were fatigued and drifting, refocusing again
and again on yet another glaring name or neon floor number. I felt
like I had just had a real tough day at the office counting too
many paper clips and pushing around too many Eagle pencils.
"Sir?" came a little sparkle from Miss Pearly Whites.
"..Oh, ah..Hmm--" I broke away from the chart long enough to
see the little dimple forming in her cheek, just below her
delicious blue eyes--
"Let me check in here. Hang on--" I refocused on my brief case
which seemed to be vaguely familiar. I hefted it high and brought
it down with a thump on the counter. I shot Dimples a smile just
for grins.
Somewhere in there would be the answer. The security guard
adjusted something on his belt. I hadn't noticed him before.
"Whuck! Whuck!" the briefcase untoggled just as I reached for
the latches. I was convinced that it wanted to tell me its secrets.
I lifted the lid and peered inside.
"Let's see here.." I stalled, "Just a minute, aah--" Damn!
This case was full of samples or something--It wasn't mine! "Geez,
I must have brought in the wrong..case.." What was going on here?
"Problem?" Her Cuteness leaned forward. So did the guard. I
grinned and swallowed something a little too dry to enjoy.
"Oh--no, No, No," I wheezed between my teeth, all the while
wondering just what I had brought in with me. Bunch of little
books, all the same size and color, small and dark. I also noticed
that I was wearing wing-tipped shoes, the kind with the soles so
thick that you could screw roller-skates on. Didn't know I even
*had* shoes like that. I wondered if I could run in them. I also
wondered why I thought I needed to run in them.
I lifted the little books and shot a glance under the tightly
packed layer. More books. I checked the pockets. Order forms and
some bright sheets that said: "SAVE.." no, they said: "ARE YOU
SAVED?"
This stuff was terrible. I moved to keep the contents secret.
I was dumfounded. What the Hell was all this doing in here?
"Excuse me, Sir," began the guard. I heard the snap on his
holster come loose. "Please step away from the case." He moved
closer.
"Do what?" I responded, wondering what had suddenly gotten him
upset. Dimples just smiled and stayed where she was. I noticed that
there were no windows in the reception area. I thought there were.
I thought about grabbing the briefcase and running back out the
revolving door.
"Hold your hands out to the side--RIGHT NOW!" demanded the
guard. I was looking down the nasty end of an automatic. I wondered
if I would be rifled like the barrel after the shot. "RIGHT NOW!!"
He cocked the hammer.
"OK! OK! Geez!" I bristled and threw my hands out to the side.
The fliers somehow managed to toss themselves into the air. I
watched the guard watch them flutter from side to side and settle
on the furniture and floor. His eyes widened.
"Call backup!" he barked at the stiffening receptionist, "DO
IT!!" She jumpped back with a sudden tick, smile still stretched
across her even teeth.
"Drop Crew to Penthouse--" she leaned into the intercom, never
taking her eyes off mine-- "we got a Hot One!"
Two heavies showed up immediately, a fat black bouncer and a
skinny Latino with a pencil thin moustache. The latino spoke first.
"Yo--Thumper--" he stood directly in front of me, invading my
space. I leaned back and looked sideways-- "Hey--Chu!--" I had been
flanked by Gordo. He was standing on one of the fliers. None of
this made any sense-- "Turn around! MOVE!"
"Who--Me?" I countered, still standing my ground. I shot a
glance at the guard with the gun, but he wasn't there anymore. I
was beginning to get a bit nervous about the briefcase, so I
slammed the lid down and tried to lock the latches. They didn't
latch.
A hiss and a stabbing pain were all I heard and felt. Both of
my arms were immobilized by the lightning grip of the guy with the
moustache.
His hands were too warm to be real. He was a damn machine.
"Hey! Woah! This has all gotta be a--" I was launched head
first into a hole in the wall just behind me. I heard the briefcase
scuff across the counter and go quiet. I figured it was next.
"KA-WHUMP!" I ate a few centimeters of the padding on the back
wall of the elevator that wasn't there a moment ago. Before I
caught my buckling knees from climbing up to my earlobes, I had
managed to twist around to shoot Slim a dirty look. It didn't last
long.
"No--Wait!" I protested, but it was too late. My brief case
completed a sub-orbital arc straight to the top of my head.
"KA-WHAM!"
I watched the case topple off, and scatter the little bibles
across the floor. I smiled stupidly at Miss Priss still standing
behind her desk.
She whacked at a lonesome straggler teetering on the edge of
the counter and sent it fluttering toward me. It landed in a little
curl of elevator dust.
"Geet z'em all!" Skinny with the mean lunch hooks hissed and
punched the lower-most button on the elevator panel. Gordo kicked
the last little book aboard as the door began to close. It shut
with a "squitch", and the floor dropped out from underneath us.
"Whaa--" I crawled in the lowered gravity and dancing bibles
and religious paraphernalia. My head was still bobbing around up
there with Miss Bubbles, and I wasn't sure where my stomach was.
Thinking I could somehow find it hovering nearby, I herded as much
of the stuff as I could back into the briefcase. Then a sudden
acceleration floated me and briefcase to hold everything in. We
were going down fast.
"Hep ya ho dat, Thumpuh!" The fat one put his foot on top of
the briefcase, pinning my arms neatly inside. He pressed himself
against the rail for a better advantage. I was just beginning to
wake up a bit.
Pain does that.
"Got a nother Thumper jes thees mornink," El Cid said to
Chubby. "Where' dey all be cum' fum, hmmm?" Flabbo wheezed. He
shifted just enough to let a few little bibles escape. I was still
caught. "Queek zey come Up--queek zey go Down." Slick held the
rail as the elevator trembled in its maddening plummet. I leaned
his way, trying to wrestle free of the briefcase. His other hand
drew back to his chin, balled up into a fist, and waited for an
opportunity to paste me back to rat class.
"..Down?.." I manage to assemble the concept that I was going
somewhere, but exactly where hadn't quite registered yet.
"Si, Thumper--Chu are going Down!" Grease said over the tops
of his knuckles. I could hear him grin behind his fist. I wondered
how long his arm was. I wondered how long this ride was.
"Down.." I tried to get up, but Lardo added a few more kilos
to his end of the equation. I noticed that the air was getting
considerably warmer and stuffier. I thought I'd inquire about my
itinerary, thinking surely this all could be explained somehow. I
watched the floors spin away in a blur. A single red button
remained illuminated at the absolute bottom of the panel. I felt
really uneasy about all of this.
"Ah, Where we goin'?--Eeeow!" The briefcase bit into my arms.
"Chu goin' straight to L, Thumper," Switchblade said as
Blubber leaned into his work.
"L--?" I could see the golden "L" branded into the bright red
button on the selector panel. What did that mean?
"You gon' da L," repeated Dumbo with sweat running from his
forehead.
"Damn!" I said, as if I hadn't a clue.
END