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[LOBO]
Episode IVXIv.1b
A New Dope
On day six, I woke with a screaming headache.
Wincing, I pull open the curtains. The sun immediately sears itself into my brain.
I scream.
LadyTerri, phone pressed to her ear, rushes in. "What the hell happened?"
Holding the back of my head, I whine. "I don't know. I'm thinking maybe we should lay off my Jedi training for a while."
"You mean the training where you have to try to dodge me as I try to hit you with a frying pan?" She switches the phone to the other ear.
"The helmet helps. But with the blast shield down, I can't even see." Rubbing my throbbing temples, I look at her. "Who's on the phone?"
"I'm on the phone with the doctor for the results of your physical."
"My what?"
She dismisses me with her hand. "Yes Doctor I. M. Nyarlathotep? He's fine for the fitness training?"
What the hell?
"Yes sir. I'm glad you all got a good laugh too," she continues. Pressing a button, she sets the phone on the table. Looking at me with some resignation she says, "Well, you're all set."
"Please elaborate," I says.
"For the fitness training program. You got approved."
Desperately, I searched my deeply-receded memory. The last thing I remember is going to church yesterday. I decided that my Chi needed some cleansing before I engage in the Holy War that is to come, and for a mere $1000 donation, the Catholic Church rushed me to the top of the list: I was issued a cross and four gallons of holy water almost immediately.
Peeking out the window a little more carefully, I survey the landscape. I see playing children and unkicked puppies. There are no panzer tanks in the driveway.
We must still be winning
"What happened after church?" I ask cautiously.
"Before or after you drank four gallons worth of Holy Daiquiris?"
"After," I reply, slowly putting things together.
"I'm not really sure. You swore a slurry oath to exact revenge upon someone and avenge something ... I don't know. Then you got frustrated because the police, fire department and newspapers kept hanging up on you."
... Traitors.
"And then you took off and signed up for a Premium membership at Cardinal Fitness."
"I thought he was offering mass!" I protest.
"Your trainer is supposed to give you an orientation in fifteen minutes."
"My trainer? Oh Jesus Christ. Please tell me you're joking. Honey, I've worked a long time to get this fantastic physique. I'm not gonna go ruin all that by going to a gym."
"You gave him a $500 retainer."
I scream again.
***
My "trainer", it turns out, is none other than Jimmy Orlando.
"Hey, don't you work for me?" I says sitting at his immaculate desk.
"Your payroll checks never cleared," he replies coolly.
"Well you never worked!"
He slides a paper under my nose. "LOBO, look. Just sign the goddamn waiver so we can get this over with."
"Fine," I sneer. Determined to not show any pain, I struggle against the weight of the pen and nonchalantly draw an 'X'. "How long is the tour?" I says, huffing slightly.
"About 45 minutes."
"You people are fucking monsters," I says. "We'll have to break this into two or three sessions. You do have cots, right?"
"No, Jar Jar" he grins.
"Well, can I have my steroids now please?"
[LOBO]
A New Dope
Wincing, I pull open the curtains. The sun immediately sears itself into my brain.
I scream.
LadyTerri, phone pressed to her ear, rushes in. "What the hell happened?"
Holding the back of my head, I whine. "I don't know. I'm thinking maybe we should lay off my Jedi training for a while."
"You mean the training where you have to try to dodge me as I try to hit you with a frying pan?" She switches the phone to the other ear.
"The helmet helps. But with the blast shield down, I can't even see." Rubbing my throbbing temples, I look at her. "Who's on the phone?"
"I'm on the phone with the doctor for the results of your physical."
"My what?"
She dismisses me with her hand. "Yes Doctor I. M. Nyarlathotep? He's fine for the fitness training?"
What the hell?
"Yes sir. I'm glad you all got a good laugh too," she continues. Pressing a button, she sets the phone on the table. Looking at me with some resignation she says, "Well, you're all set."
"Please elaborate," I says.
"For the fitness training program. You got approved."
Desperately, I searched my deeply-receded memory. The last thing I remember is going to church yesterday. I decided that my Chi needed some cleansing before I engage in the Holy War that is to come, and for a mere $1000 donation, the Catholic Church rushed me to the top of the list: I was issued a cross and four gallons of holy water almost immediately.
Peeking out the window a little more carefully, I survey the landscape. I see playing children and unkicked puppies. There are no panzer tanks in the driveway.
We must still be winning
"What happened after church?" I ask cautiously.
"Before or after you drank four gallons worth of Holy Daiquiris?"
"After," I reply, slowly putting things together.
"I'm not really sure. You swore a slurry oath to exact revenge upon someone and avenge something ... I don't know. Then you got frustrated because the police, fire department and newspapers kept hanging up on you."
... Traitors.
"And then you took off and signed up for a Premium membership at Cardinal Fitness."
"I thought he was offering mass!" I protest.
"Your trainer is supposed to give you an orientation in fifteen minutes."
"My trainer? Oh Jesus Christ. Please tell me you're joking. Honey, I've worked a long time to get this fantastic physique. I'm not gonna go ruin all that by going to a gym."
"You gave him a $500 retainer."
I scream again.
My "trainer", it turns out, is none other than Jimmy Orlando.
"Hey, don't you work for me?" I says sitting at his immaculate desk.
"Your payroll checks never cleared," he replies coolly.
"Well you never worked!"
He slides a paper under my nose. "LOBO, look. Just sign the goddamn waiver so we can get this over with."
"Fine," I sneer. Determined to not show any pain, I struggle against the weight of the pen and nonchalantly draw an 'X'. "How long is the tour?" I says, huffing slightly.
"About 45 minutes."
"You people are fucking monsters," I says. "We'll have to break this into two or three sessions. You do have cots, right?"
"No, Jar Jar" he grins.
"Well, can I have my steroids now please?"
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