Friday
Thursday
Viscosity
Predator Press
[Mr Insanity]
“You know,” I says, pushing my plate away. “I was a little disappointed with the fettuccini.”
“Really,” says Sapphire. “Am I supposed to think you are classy because you are pointing out flaws at something you invited me to?” she giggles. “I suppose you cook?”
“I’ll cut you a deal,” I says. “I’ll handle the macaroni and cheese. No matter what you decide to make, I’m doing the mac and cheese.”
“Oh thank God,” Sapphire laughs.
“Until we get married,” I add. “When we get married, you’ll be pretty fucked as far as pasta is concerned.”
"So then we'll eat, what, leaves and berries?"
"If you're lucky," I says frowning. "Look, I know your 'affiliation' with LOBO--"
"Well, it's funny that you mention that," she says. "Because LOBO needs to post Bail."
[Mr Insanity]
“You know,” I says, pushing my plate away. “I was a little disappointed with the fettuccini.”
“Really,” says Sapphire. “Am I supposed to think you are classy because you are pointing out flaws at something you invited me to?” she giggles. “I suppose you cook?”
“I’ll cut you a deal,” I says. “I’ll handle the macaroni and cheese. No matter what you decide to make, I’m doing the mac and cheese.”
“Oh thank God,” Sapphire laughs.
“Until we get married,” I add. “When we get married, you’ll be pretty fucked as far as pasta is concerned.”
"So then we'll eat, what, leaves and berries?"
"If you're lucky," I says frowning. "Look, I know your 'affiliation' with LOBO--"
"Well, it's funny that you mention that," she says. "Because LOBO needs to post Bail."
Tuesday
Perfectly Legal
Predator Press
[LOBO]
"I'm serious," I says. "I've got his contract right here!"
1) Don't be a Dick = 50%
Gilmore's Score: -50%
2) Never Say 'LOBO is Too Busy' for Free Meals = 21%
Gilmore's Score: 21%, + 6% bonus for timeliness
3) No Fat Chicks = 20%
Gilmore's Score: 20%
4) Never Kill Ethan = 9%
Gilmore's Score: -9%, + 6% bonus for timeliness
Net Total = Fuck Gilmore.
"It's all perfectly legal," I insist.
[LOBO]
"I'm serious," I says. "I've got his contract right here!"
1) Don't be a Dick = 50%
Gilmore's Score: -50%
2) Never Say 'LOBO is Too Busy' for Free Meals = 21%
Gilmore's Score: 21%, + 6% bonus for timeliness
3) No Fat Chicks = 20%
Gilmore's Score: 20%
4) Never Kill Ethan = 9%
Gilmore's Score: -9%, + 6% bonus for timeliness
Net Total = Fuck Gilmore.
Saturday
Scar Tissue
Predator Press
[Mr Insanity]
“Look,” says Gilmore, stuffing the bloody tissue against his nose. “I did the right thing. If, in fact, Babs has anything to do with this, somebody should have been ‘engaged’ in what is going on.”
“How do we know your loyalty isn’t with her?” says Sapphire.
Maybe it was the adrenaline of the fight -I don't know- but the next thing out of my mouth was, “What the fuck do you know about loyalty?”
Sapphire's eyes flashed dangerously. “Excuse me?” she blinked.
“What was that disappearing act over Winter Break all about? I thought we were getting pretty tight. Then boom. You didn’t even send me a Christmas Card.”
“You took a hooker to Christmas Mass from what I heard.”
“Don't blame me if there's no 'Saving' her."
[Mr Insanity]
“Look,” says Gilmore, stuffing the bloody tissue against his nose. “I did the right thing. If, in fact, Babs has anything to do with this, somebody should have been ‘engaged’ in what is going on.”
“How do we know your loyalty isn’t with her?” says Sapphire.
Maybe it was the adrenaline of the fight -I don't know- but the next thing out of my mouth was, “What the fuck do you know about loyalty?”
Sapphire's eyes flashed dangerously. “Excuse me?” she blinked.
“What was that disappearing act over Winter Break all about? I thought we were getting pretty tight. Then boom. You didn’t even send me a Christmas Card.”
“You took a hooker to Christmas Mass from what I heard.”
“Don't blame me if there's no 'Saving' her."
Friday
Black Flag
Predator Press
[LOBO]
Ethan disappearing isn’t really always that unusual; he’ll just up and go on a vacation or a business trip often without even packing.
But this is the first time he’s gone ten days without contacting anyone.
Making things worse is the glaring absence of Cobe; while that lazy fuck is off vacationing or whatever in the arctic, everything was beginning to fall apart without Ethan at the helm.
The sense of deterioration in the office was obvious and virtually palpable. Supplies were being ordered incorrectly –if in fact ordered at all. Bills were going unpaid. Deadlines were being missed. Things were so bad, when Babs asked me if I run the warehouse for a few days, I jumped at the chance.
The truth is I’m somewhat of a shipping and receiving prodigy. With a crew of 46 hard-scrabble industrial types, on a typical day we would receive about 26 semi trailers with materials and generally ship out about the same amount.
Now, under my radiant guidance, loads are brought into the north side of the building, processed, disseminated, recombined, and shipped out on trucks waiting on the south side just as usual. But now those trucks drive immediately back around to the north side, and the process is repeated.
But within only a few days, I have them doing triple the production. Hell, now I’m considering not letting the trucks stop here in the first place … just have the long line of semis circling the building clockwise. If they approve my on-site diesel refueling station, we’re talking nothing but round-the-clock efficiency.
***
Immediately after shuffling up the papers in Jimmy Orlando’s vacant office, I got the call instructing me –and all Predator Press executives—to meet at the banquet hall. My suspicions that it was a surprise party for me celebrating being named the Forbes Man of the Year were dispelled almost immediately upon arrival; already very late, I hurriedly snuck in and joined the table where Phoebe, Mr Insanity and Sapphire were already sitting even as Gilmore was addressing the podium.
“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for attending with such short notice. You’ll note that Jimmy Orlando will not be joining us today; his house mysteriously burned down yesterday, and I would like to extend my personal sympathies.”
“That’s horrible,” I says.
“Indeed,” says Gilmore, a little annoyed by the interruption. “I would also like to congratulate you all for having the highest circulation we’ve ever had this year. At this rate, we would most certainly have eventually turned a profit.”
“Would have?” Sapphire whispers.
“And as you all know, according to the Charter, Babs is the defacto CEO in Ethan’s absence. And since it’s been well over a week since Ethan was kidnapped, my may have to face the possibility that he may never return.”
“Who said anything about kidnapping?” whispered Mr Insanity.
“I’ll bet it’s Babs’ highly-developed maternal instinct,” I says.
Mr Insanity looked at me strangely. “Babs doesn’t have any kids.”
“God doesn’t give a woman breasts like that if He doesn’t intend for her to be a fantastic mother.”
“Well, while I find your logic rather fascinating,” Mr I says, “God didn’t give her those breasts. Doctor Helmsly did.”
Gilmore continued. “And as the Acting CEO of Predator Press, Babs has been forced to conclude that this business cannot continue without him. She has decided to close the doors and liquidate all the assets immediately.”
“English please,” I says. “We’re not all calculatrons you know.”
“None of you work here anymore,” says Gilmore.
“Oh thank God,” I says. “I’m freaking exhausted from all this getting up at 10 in the morning three or four days a week. And can you just mail me my paychecks? It’s a kinda long drive--”
“Perhaps,” says Gilmore, “I’m not being very clear.”
“Hey,” I says. “I’m sure I’m speaking for everyone when I ask you if there is there going to be food at this thing. I’m famished. Plus I’m tired … I had a very late night. And do you have any idea how hard it is getting a gasoline smell out of a ninja outfit? Let me tell you, it’s a big pain in the ass--”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” says Gilmore clearly into the microphone. “As of today, you’re all fired.”
“Who said anything about fire?” I says.
Suddenly, Mr Insanity’s hands are around Gilmore’s throat.
“You DICK!” he screamed.
Gilmore tried to squirm free, only further infuriating his assailant; Mr Insanity delivered three or four bone-crushing punches to his unprotected head before Sapphire could pull him off.
“Stop that Mr Insanity!” she demanded. “You’ll kill him before I get my turn!”
“We’re not killing him,” says Phoebe.
“What?”
“We’re not killing him,” she repeated. “We need him to find Babs, and we need Babs to find Ethan.”
Reluctantly, Mr Insanity relaxed. “You’re a fucking scumbag,” he says to Gilmore. “If it comes out that you had anything to do with this, I’ll kill you. And then I’ll kill everyone you’ve ever met until there aren’t even memories of you anymore.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “You’re the second-worst 'Vice President of All Things LOBO' I’ve ever had!”
[LOBO]
Ethan disappearing isn’t really always that unusual; he’ll just up and go on a vacation or a business trip often without even packing.
But this is the first time he’s gone ten days without contacting anyone.
Making things worse is the glaring absence of Cobe; while that lazy fuck is off vacationing or whatever in the arctic, everything was beginning to fall apart without Ethan at the helm.
The sense of deterioration in the office was obvious and virtually palpable. Supplies were being ordered incorrectly –if in fact ordered at all. Bills were going unpaid. Deadlines were being missed. Things were so bad, when Babs asked me if I run the warehouse for a few days, I jumped at the chance.
The truth is I’m somewhat of a shipping and receiving prodigy. With a crew of 46 hard-scrabble industrial types, on a typical day we would receive about 26 semi trailers with materials and generally ship out about the same amount.
Now, under my radiant guidance, loads are brought into the north side of the building, processed, disseminated, recombined, and shipped out on trucks waiting on the south side just as usual. But now those trucks drive immediately back around to the north side, and the process is repeated.
But within only a few days, I have them doing triple the production. Hell, now I’m considering not letting the trucks stop here in the first place … just have the long line of semis circling the building clockwise. If they approve my on-site diesel refueling station, we’re talking nothing but round-the-clock efficiency.
Immediately after shuffling up the papers in Jimmy Orlando’s vacant office, I got the call instructing me –and all Predator Press executives—to meet at the banquet hall. My suspicions that it was a surprise party for me celebrating being named the Forbes Man of the Year were dispelled almost immediately upon arrival; already very late, I hurriedly snuck in and joined the table where Phoebe, Mr Insanity and Sapphire were already sitting even as Gilmore was addressing the podium.
“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for attending with such short notice. You’ll note that Jimmy Orlando will not be joining us today; his house mysteriously burned down yesterday, and I would like to extend my personal sympathies.”
“That’s horrible,” I says.
“Indeed,” says Gilmore, a little annoyed by the interruption. “I would also like to congratulate you all for having the highest circulation we’ve ever had this year. At this rate, we would most certainly have eventually turned a profit.”
“Would have?” Sapphire whispers.
“And as you all know, according to the Charter, Babs is the defacto CEO in Ethan’s absence. And since it’s been well over a week since Ethan was kidnapped, my may have to face the possibility that he may never return.”
“Who said anything about kidnapping?” whispered Mr Insanity.
“I’ll bet it’s Babs’ highly-developed maternal instinct,” I says.
Mr Insanity looked at me strangely. “Babs doesn’t have any kids.”
“God doesn’t give a woman breasts like that if He doesn’t intend for her to be a fantastic mother.”
“Well, while I find your logic rather fascinating,” Mr I says, “God didn’t give her those breasts. Doctor Helmsly did.”
Gilmore continued. “And as the Acting CEO of Predator Press, Babs has been forced to conclude that this business cannot continue without him. She has decided to close the doors and liquidate all the assets immediately.”
“English please,” I says. “We’re not all calculatrons you know.”
“None of you work here anymore,” says Gilmore.
“Oh thank God,” I says. “I’m freaking exhausted from all this getting up at 10 in the morning three or four days a week. And can you just mail me my paychecks? It’s a kinda long drive--”
“Perhaps,” says Gilmore, “I’m not being very clear.”
“Hey,” I says. “I’m sure I’m speaking for everyone when I ask you if there is there going to be food at this thing. I’m famished. Plus I’m tired … I had a very late night. And do you have any idea how hard it is getting a gasoline smell out of a ninja outfit? Let me tell you, it’s a big pain in the ass--”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” says Gilmore clearly into the microphone. “As of today, you’re all fired.”
“Who said anything about fire?” I says.
Suddenly, Mr Insanity’s hands are around Gilmore’s throat.
“You DICK!” he screamed.
Gilmore tried to squirm free, only further infuriating his assailant; Mr Insanity delivered three or four bone-crushing punches to his unprotected head before Sapphire could pull him off.
“Stop that Mr Insanity!” she demanded. “You’ll kill him before I get my turn!”
“We’re not killing him,” says Phoebe.
“What?”
“We’re not killing him,” she repeated. “We need him to find Babs, and we need Babs to find Ethan.”
Reluctantly, Mr Insanity relaxed. “You’re a fucking scumbag,” he says to Gilmore. “If it comes out that you had anything to do with this, I’ll kill you. And then I’ll kill everyone you’ve ever met until there aren’t even memories of you anymore.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “You’re the second-worst 'Vice President of All Things LOBO' I’ve ever had!”
Wednesday
Day Six
Predator Press
[Mr Insanity]
Needless to say, tempers are wearing thin.
The strictly-distributed rations are low, and lack of hygiene is becoming painfully obvious to Phoebe and I. I have several days of 'scruff', and Phoebe's refusal to wear shorts during the hottest parts of the day suggests that she probably does too. We smell bad. Phoebe, without makeup and her usual vast assortment of beauty creams and oils seems to have aged ten years while simultaneously developing acne. Her cheeks are growing taut and sunken --as are mine probably.
Sapphire, an android, looks just as fresh and beautiful as she did a week ago; this I can understand. But as for LOBO, there is no explanation whatsoever; he's clean-shaven and smells faintly of Old Spice.
And he almost seems to have gained weight.
Is that what he was wearing when we got here?
"Good morning," says a distantly-familiar voice.
Surprised, we all turn to see Gilmore, dapper and smooth in a custom-fitted immaculate white suit.
"Where the hell did you come from?" I demand.
"That's not important," says Gilmore.
"Fuck you," says Phoebe. "Why don't you tell us what's important then? We've been stranded out here for a week!"
"Easy Phoebe," Sapphire chides lightly. "At least someone's here to get us out of here."
"Awe," says LOBO. "I was just starting to enjoy this-"
"I'm sorry," says Gilmore. "I'm under strict orders not to extract you from the exercise until Ethan gives the word."
"Well where is Ethan then?" I ask pointedly.
"We don't know," says Gilmore. "No one has seen him since he dropped you guys off."
"So you think you're going to just leave us here?" says Sapphire. "Because if that's the case-"
"Look, I'm very sorry," hedges Gilmore. "Ethan was very clear about this." He points southward. "I'm not to intervene until I see his signal flare fire from over behind that hill."
We all look. "What hill?" I says.
And Gilmore was gone.
"Oh God Damnit," cries Phoebe.
***
A brief search of the area turned up nothing.
Exhausted, we return to our camp.
"I can't believe he gave us the slip like that," says Phoebe.
"Maybe he wasn't even here," offers LOBO helpfully.
"What like he was a mirage or something?" growls Phoebe. "You're lucky I'm out of pepper spray."
"I'm thirsty," I says. Shaking the canteen, it makes a hollow sound. "Looks like this is the last of the water."
"Wonderful," says Phoebe.
As I pour her a few drops, the thought of a salt with pepper spray flashes through my mind, and stomach growls audibly.
"C'mon LOBO," I says.
"Why don't you guys go ahead. I'm not very thirsty."
"Well," says Sapphire suspiciously. "How very noble of you."
"I'm fine," he insists. "But I have to go to the bathroom. I'll see you guys in a little bit."
Watching him slip off into the woods, Sapphire nudges me. "I smell a rat."
"Yeah," says Phoebe. "Every time he goes to the bathroom, he's gone for three or more hours."
"I agree," I says. "In fact, right before Gilmore showed up, I was trying to decide whether or not he had somehow changed clothes."
"Hm," says Phoebe.
"I say we follow him," says Sapphire.
"Let's go."
***
We didn't get 1000 feet before we could hear the river ... and Phoebe and I were so thirsty, we instantly burst into a run. LOBO didn't see us until we were overtaking him.
"Hey!" he complains. "That's my water! I got dibs. I spotted it first from up in the tree fair and square. Find your own!"
Sapphire, unaffected by thirst, chose instead to grab LOBO fiercely by the collar of his shirt. "You knew where there was water this whole time and you didn't tell us?"
"Hey, hey!" cried LOBO, squirming. "Where's your teambuilding spirit? Ethan might see you, and we'll be stuck out here even longer."
Scooping water into my mouth, something floating in the stream catches my eye. Wading in up to my knees, I pick it up and inspect it.
"I don't think we have to worry about Ethan seeing us," I says.
"Why?" says Phoebe between gulps.
I hold the soggy item up for them to see.
It's a battered and torn tan vacationer's hat.
"No," says Sapphire.
"Those hats are common. It might not be Ethan's at all," says Phoebe optimistically.
Turning it inside out, I show them the large initials inked into the liner.
E.H.
"Were going to have to travel upstream and try and figure out what happened to him."
"Well," concedes LOBO "I'm fine with you helping yourselves to my water I suppose, but stay the hell out of my 7-11!"
[Mr Insanity]
Needless to say, tempers are wearing thin.
The strictly-distributed rations are low, and lack of hygiene is becoming painfully obvious to Phoebe and I. I have several days of 'scruff', and Phoebe's refusal to wear shorts during the hottest parts of the day suggests that she probably does too. We smell bad. Phoebe, without makeup and her usual vast assortment of beauty creams and oils seems to have aged ten years while simultaneously developing acne. Her cheeks are growing taut and sunken --as are mine probably.
Sapphire, an android, looks just as fresh and beautiful as she did a week ago; this I can understand. But as for LOBO, there is no explanation whatsoever; he's clean-shaven and smells faintly of Old Spice.
And he almost seems to have gained weight.
Is that what he was wearing when we got here?
"Good morning," says a distantly-familiar voice.
Surprised, we all turn to see Gilmore, dapper and smooth in a custom-fitted immaculate white suit.
"Where the hell did you come from?" I demand.
"That's not important," says Gilmore.
"Fuck you," says Phoebe. "Why don't you tell us what's important then? We've been stranded out here for a week!"
"Easy Phoebe," Sapphire chides lightly. "At least someone's here to get us out of here."
"Awe," says LOBO. "I was just starting to enjoy this-"
"I'm sorry," says Gilmore. "I'm under strict orders not to extract you from the exercise until Ethan gives the word."
"Well where is Ethan then?" I ask pointedly.
"We don't know," says Gilmore. "No one has seen him since he dropped you guys off."
"So you think you're going to just leave us here?" says Sapphire. "Because if that's the case-"
"Look, I'm very sorry," hedges Gilmore. "Ethan was very clear about this." He points southward. "I'm not to intervene until I see his signal flare fire from over behind that hill."
We all look. "What hill?" I says.
And Gilmore was gone.
"Oh God Damnit," cries Phoebe.
A brief search of the area turned up nothing.
Exhausted, we return to our camp.
"I can't believe he gave us the slip like that," says Phoebe.
"Maybe he wasn't even here," offers LOBO helpfully.
"What like he was a mirage or something?" growls Phoebe. "You're lucky I'm out of pepper spray."
"I'm thirsty," I says. Shaking the canteen, it makes a hollow sound. "Looks like this is the last of the water."
"Wonderful," says Phoebe.
As I pour her a few drops, the thought of a salt with pepper spray flashes through my mind, and stomach growls audibly.
"C'mon LOBO," I says.
"Why don't you guys go ahead. I'm not very thirsty."
"Well," says Sapphire suspiciously. "How very noble of you."
"I'm fine," he insists. "But I have to go to the bathroom. I'll see you guys in a little bit."
Watching him slip off into the woods, Sapphire nudges me. "I smell a rat."
"Yeah," says Phoebe. "Every time he goes to the bathroom, he's gone for three or more hours."
"I agree," I says. "In fact, right before Gilmore showed up, I was trying to decide whether or not he had somehow changed clothes."
"Hm," says Phoebe.
"I say we follow him," says Sapphire.
"Let's go."
We didn't get 1000 feet before we could hear the river ... and Phoebe and I were so thirsty, we instantly burst into a run. LOBO didn't see us until we were overtaking him.
"Hey!" he complains. "That's my water! I got dibs. I spotted it first from up in the tree fair and square. Find your own!"
Sapphire, unaffected by thirst, chose instead to grab LOBO fiercely by the collar of his shirt. "You knew where there was water this whole time and you didn't tell us?"
"Hey, hey!" cried LOBO, squirming. "Where's your teambuilding spirit? Ethan might see you, and we'll be stuck out here even longer."
Scooping water into my mouth, something floating in the stream catches my eye. Wading in up to my knees, I pick it up and inspect it.
"I don't think we have to worry about Ethan seeing us," I says.
"Why?" says Phoebe between gulps.
I hold the soggy item up for them to see.
It's a battered and torn tan vacationer's hat.
"No," says Sapphire.
"Those hats are common. It might not be Ethan's at all," says Phoebe optimistically.
Turning it inside out, I show them the large initials inked into the liner.
"Were going to have to travel upstream and try and figure out what happened to him."
"Well," concedes LOBO "I'm fine with you helping yourselves to my water I suppose, but stay the hell out of my 7-11!"
Tuesday
Day Two
Predator Press
[Mr Insanity]
You know, it's been about 30 years since I've done anything similar to camping. And while not particularly exited about the idea at first, it soon became apparent that LOBO wasn't going to be hanging around; this leaves the rather attractive prospect of me alone with Sapphire and Phoebe for however long this "teambuilding" exercise will last.
LOBO -despite his claims to have been on a few of these activities before-seemed to rattle rather quickly. After a few hours of staring despondently into the woods where Ethan drove off sort of sulkily resigned himself to "roughing it".
This lasted around eight minutes.
Frustrated by his inability to find a way to plug in his canteen and mess kit, he was soon bored, hungry, and growing increasingly agitated by the sounds of the wildlife surrounding us in the darkening wood.
"What was that!?" he would demand abruptly.
"I think it was a sparrow," volunteers Sapphire.
"How dare Ethan leave me out here unarmed in a wilderness full of fierce, carnivorous sparrows?"
"LOBO," sighs Phoebe. "I'm sure Ethan is somewhere close by ... he's probably watching us right now. Now would you please come down out of that tree?"
"Yes," I add. "And you do realize that sparrows can fly, right?"
LOBO shrieked. "We can't just sit out here starving to death. Listen ... you can just hear those savage beasts waiting for us to become weak and emaciated, that they may feast upon our entrails!"
"Look," says Sapphire. "There's nothing we can do about any of this. What we need to do is set up a camp for the night and get a fire going."
"Don't let me stop you," he says from somewhere in the tree.
I find a nice, round rock about the size of a baseball and nudge Phoebe. Repeatedly pinching my fingers and thumb together by my mouth, I give her the universal sign language for 'keep him talking' as I quietly circle the tree.
"LOBO," Phoebe says coaxingly. "We need your help."
"Doing what?"
Sapphire, seeing me homing in on his voice, catches on. "We need your help to gather firewood."
"Firewood?" LOBO laughs. "Oh my god you must be joking. That stuff is filthy. And probably crawling with bugs and stuff."
"How else are we going to build a fire?" asks Sapphire.
"Silly girl," laughs LOBO condescendingly. "Don't you see that there is no better way of giving up our location to all the predatory creatures out here than to build a fire? Why don't you just smear yourself with barbeque sauce while holding up a gigantic neon sign that says 'EAT ME'-- ?"
The sound of the rock whipping through the air, leaves and branches was followed by a sharp distinct crack.
Silence.
"My god," whispers Sapphire. "That was 86 miles per hour!"
"I played AAA for a few years." I smile smugly.
"LOBO?" called Phoebe, slightly concerned.
Nothing.
"Three, two, one ... " I count aloud.
Suddenly, there's a rustling sound, subtle at first, then a series of sharp cracks, and finally the loud, dull thump of LOBO's inert body crashing into the ground. Startled, thirty or so alarmed sparrows take flight in random directions.
"Do that again!" Sapphire applauds.
[Mr Insanity]
You know, it's been about 30 years since I've done anything similar to camping. And while not particularly exited about the idea at first, it soon became apparent that LOBO wasn't going to be hanging around; this leaves the rather attractive prospect of me alone with Sapphire and Phoebe for however long this "teambuilding" exercise will last.
LOBO -despite his claims to have been on a few of these activities before-seemed to rattle rather quickly. After a few hours of staring despondently into the woods where Ethan drove off sort of sulkily resigned himself to "roughing it".
This lasted around eight minutes.
Frustrated by his inability to find a way to plug in his canteen and mess kit, he was soon bored, hungry, and growing increasingly agitated by the sounds of the wildlife surrounding us in the darkening wood.
"What was that!?" he would demand abruptly.
"I think it was a sparrow," volunteers Sapphire.
"How dare Ethan leave me out here unarmed in a wilderness full of fierce, carnivorous sparrows?"
"LOBO," sighs Phoebe. "I'm sure Ethan is somewhere close by ... he's probably watching us right now. Now would you please come down out of that tree?"
"Yes," I add. "And you do realize that sparrows can fly, right?"
LOBO shrieked. "We can't just sit out here starving to death. Listen ... you can just hear those savage beasts waiting for us to become weak and emaciated, that they may feast upon our entrails!"
"Look," says Sapphire. "There's nothing we can do about any of this. What we need to do is set up a camp for the night and get a fire going."
"Don't let me stop you," he says from somewhere in the tree.
I find a nice, round rock about the size of a baseball and nudge Phoebe. Repeatedly pinching my fingers and thumb together by my mouth, I give her the universal sign language for 'keep him talking' as I quietly circle the tree.
"LOBO," Phoebe says coaxingly. "We need your help."
"Doing what?"
Sapphire, seeing me homing in on his voice, catches on. "We need your help to gather firewood."
"Firewood?" LOBO laughs. "Oh my god you must be joking. That stuff is filthy. And probably crawling with bugs and stuff."
"How else are we going to build a fire?" asks Sapphire.
"Silly girl," laughs LOBO condescendingly. "Don't you see that there is no better way of giving up our location to all the predatory creatures out here than to build a fire? Why don't you just smear yourself with barbeque sauce while holding up a gigantic neon sign that says 'EAT ME'-- ?"
The sound of the rock whipping through the air, leaves and branches was followed by a sharp distinct crack.
Silence.
"My god," whispers Sapphire. "That was 86 miles per hour!"
"I played AAA for a few years." I smile smugly.
"LOBO?" called Phoebe, slightly concerned.
Nothing.
"Three, two, one ... " I count aloud.
Suddenly, there's a rustling sound, subtle at first, then a series of sharp cracks, and finally the loud, dull thump of LOBO's inert body crashing into the ground. Startled, thirty or so alarmed sparrows take flight in random directions.
"Do that again!" Sapphire applauds.
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