Looks like Amazon, which has bought its own print-on-demand (POD) subsidiary, BookSurge, also has its own ideas about how to do business. According to GalleyCat and Publisher's Weekly, Amazon is threatening to disable all the "buy buttons" for any titles-on-demand that aren't printed by BookSurge. Some bloggers are crying "Monopoly!" That's one word for it.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Speaking of Book Buyers...
Looks like Amazon, which has bought its own print-on-demand (POD) subsidiary, BookSurge, also has its own ideas about how to do business. According to GalleyCat and Publisher's Weekly, Amazon is threatening to disable all the "buy buttons" for any titles-on-demand that aren't printed by BookSurge. Some bloggers are crying "Monopoly!" That's one word for it.
Must Have Been the Indigestion
An anonymous published author sent this one in from the archives, saying he/she simply couldn't help but share: Dear Writer, Rejected: I spent my entire lunch break reading [title of novel], and while I found it to be very creative, I'm afraid it's not for me. The author adds: A simple "no thanks" minus the lunch, would have been fine.
Let's file this one under TMI.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Laundry List Rejections
One industrious LROD reader compiled a list of rejections received for his two novels. I'm assuming he took some liberties when summarizing the main rejection messages. Here's the list:we find this book too complicated for our readers
we think there are too many "fucks" in this book
we wouldn't be able to sell more than 12 copies of this book
we cannot take a risk with such a postmodern novel
we could face a law suit with this book
we find this book totally unreadable
we find this book too narrow in scope
we think the characters need fleshing out
we think this book could use a good rewriting -- it's too short
we are tired of publishing books about the Holocaust
we are looking for books that teach people how to improve their lives
we think your book would make the readers suffer
we think your book needs a happy ending
we think nobody gives a shit about the lives of farmers in Southern France
we love the subject of the book, but at the present time the relations between England and France, being what they are, your book would not receive favorable attention from British readers
Reads kind of like a poem, doesn't it?
Monday, April 7, 2008
Is Blogging Killing You?
The New York Times published this "trendy" nonsense about blog deaths, amusingly followed up by Gawker's take on the matter. Here's a highlight: "In the last few months, two bloggers--ages 50 and 60--dropped dead of heart attacks. Times for a trend piece! "Other bloggers complain of weight loss or gain, sleep disorders, exhaustion and other maladies born of the nonstop strain of producing...." As for me, not being paid a blog-gone cent and not writing for a news machine, I find blogging relaxing; it has actually resurrected me from the dead. What about you people?Yiyun Li -- Judge Not My Secret
As promised, here's the actual rejection I got from the Iowa Review. It's hard to be disgruntled when the fiction judge doesn't choose your story from "a small group of finalists" for the Iowa Review Fiction Award, but I'll tell you, it's not impossible. Remember last spring when everyone (even Oprah) was talking about the book, The Secret, which posited that if you just think positively, you can make your dreams come true? Well, I was so desperate that I gave it a try by sending positive energy out to the universe and to the judge Yiyun Li. I even slept with the finalist notification under my pillow and tried to doze positively all night long. As it turns out, The Secret is one of the worst books I never read. BTW, though, one of the best short story collections I've read recently is Yiyun Li's A Thousand Years of Good Prayers. Even though she didn't pick me, you should read her book; it's really good.Friday, April 4, 2008
Book Future: No Advances, No Returns
Looks like HarperCollins is going to lead the way to a new future in book selling by cutting author advances and refusing book returns, according to articles in the New York Times , USA Today , and GalleyCat. In short, long-time Hyperion President Robert S. Miller will be heading up a new experimental publishing company at HarperCollins that aims to conduct business against the norm. Here's a summary from GalleyCat:"According to the press release, 'Miller will publish approximately 25 popular-priced books per year in multiple physical and digital formats including those as yet unspecified, with the aim to combine the best practices of trade publishing while taking full advantage of the internet for sales, marketing and distribution. Authors will be compensated through a profit sharing model as opposed to a traditional royalty, and books will be promoted utilizing on-line publicity, adverting, and marketing.' Translation, probably: Whatever it is Bob will be publishing will be printed on demand, or you will be able to read it on your Kindle type device, or, eventually, by using implanted technology in your eyeballs that will allow you to turn pages by blinking."
I imagine this turn of events will make agents nervous, as it may render them irrelevant or at least unprofitable. It probably won't affect the Big Authors, though, who will still get a 50% cut of the profits for their best sellers, and of course the little authors will get nothing...or less than nothing, as the case may be. I wonder if this will make publishers in general more likely to publish untested authors? Oh, why, be optimistic now. In truth it will probably have no impact on my inability to get published.
So Close, And Yet So Far
Not to put too fine of a point on my argument from a day ago, but last year at this time, I was earnestly carrying the above notification that I was a finalist for an Iowa Review Award in my pocket and keeping it under my pillow. As you may have guessed, I was not chosen as a winner (I'll post the rejection soon). Still, finalist was pretty good for a hack without an MFA.
Sexy Librarian by Julia Weist
When did you start writing the book? I began writing Sexy Librarian in the summer of 2006, when I was traveling cross-country visiting public libraries for an art project I was working on. When I began the manuscript, I had no serious expectations for it to be published; my intention was to collect rejection letters from commercial publishing houses. I displayed these letters as art works within an exhibition about failed literature.
Did you use an agent?/How long did it take to find a publisher? I submitted the unagented manuscript for Sexy Librarian to six publishing houses: Harlequin, Tor, Avon, Dorchester, Moonlit Romance, and Triskelion. Each passed and notified me of their decision with standard form letters. Ellen Lupton, a curator, saw the rejection letters in my exhibition and offered to publish the book independently. She hadn't read any content when she made the offer, but was interested in the potential for distributing the story in context of the overall project. More information about the original exhibition can be found here: http://www.deaccession.org/
What prompted your interest in writing the manuscript if getting it published was somewhat of an accident? I am interested in understanding collective fantasy via the obscure, rather than the popular. I wanted to write a love story that was formulaic, but included anecdotes of my own life, to see if my experiences could be of value, commercially, to the paperback romance industry. The rejection of the manuscript revealed something about prescriptive desire and the hearts of the Midwestern women who fuel the paperback romance business. I learned, for example, that sexually transmitted diseases are considered a "turn off," within the Romance genre.
Where were you when you received the offer for the book to be published? I was at the opening of the exhibition in which the rejection letters were being shown. Ellen made a verbal offer to publish it, but I immediately declined, concerned as I was that the project stay true to its original intention of exploring failed literature within the mainstream commercial publishing world. It became clear quickly, however, that publishing the project independently could begin a new chapter. I am interested now in monitoring the book's success within public libraries. In this context readers can seek out the narrative without financial commitment.
Who was the first person you told about the book deal? I told my brother as we were heading to the show's after party. When Ellen sent me the contract, I sat down with my whole family and we reviewed it together. We had a long discussion about whether or not it was the right direction for the project. This was not a typical case of dreams coming true: I had never before imagined myself as a novelist. I'm a sculptor! But then I began to see the potential for the novel to be a sculpture, and that encouraged me to move forward with it.
How long did it take to finish the first draft? Because of our production schedule, I had only two months to write the first draft.
How many revisions did you write? Two.
Who read your drafts? Ellen edited the novel. Jennifer Tobias, art librarian extraordinaire and the book's critical essayist, provided a "library realness" edit. This involved fact checking things like whether or not it was structurally feasible that the steel cantilever shelving in the Minneapolis Public Library could hold the weight of a fornicating couple. My brother, who is an art writer and curator, also contributed an overall edit.
How did you decide which comments were important and which you didn't need to heed? I wanted to preserve the true character of the first three chapters—the proposal that I sent to the Slush pile—so that there could be transparency in terms of what they rejected. It was pretty rough stuff, though, so we had to compromise at times and edit those pages into more polished fiction.
Has your philosophy on getting published changed? Would you do anything differently now? I don't know if I would do anything differently. I believe the narrative is successful in preserving the raw vulnerability of offering this story up for public consumption, failing, and finding an outlet for more precisely judging it's potential relevance. There isn't just one moment in the publishing process when a writer can be rejected. If your book gets published, but no one reads it, that's another kind of heartbreak.
What words of advice would you give to a writer on the journey toward publication? Failure is funnier than success, and more romantic.
___________________
I love that rejection is incorporated into Julia's publication story as a positive force! That's good stuff. Go here to buy a copy of Julia's fascinating book today.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Is it the Blog that Killed the Writer?
The New York Observer has yet another take on the decline and fall of the writer. The article is written by Doree Shafrir, who used to blog for Gawker, but appears to have made her way to so-called "legit" journalism, a trend that everyone in the article says is unlikely! Funny.
Rejection Shredding Party Anyone?
John Wilkens, a writer for San Diego's Union-Tribune, posted a fun article called "For Spurned Writers, a Shred of Dignity," over at SignOnSanDiego.com. The article gives a little plug to LROD, but it's mainly about the kind of party we'd all love to attend: rejected writers gathered around a paper shredder. For that alone, the article and hostile reader's comments are worth a peek.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Publish (Your Own), or Perish
At the risk of losing more readers due to the hairy ongoing debate over academic writing and literary journals, I want to make a public response to this dude's comment:a nameless (and blameless) editor said...
"Sigh. I have been irritated by these comments on this blog and only wonder what the motive could possibly be. Will some people never learn?This is not the day of Flannery O'Connor or F. Scott Fitzgerald or whoever your heroes happen to be. Their day is past. You probably don't use a typewriter to draft your stories, either. In case you haven't noticed, literature is more or less an academic industry now and the MFA has become its gold standard, even outside of the so called "ivory tower"; almost every literary agent under 30 has an MFA. You expect to be taken seriously without one? Think about it, people.I hold a fiction editor post at an upper tier journal. While we are technically open to anyone, I do have to wonder about those outside academia who are submitting. I have to question your motive.
And I'll tell you why my serious attention is given to submissions that come from an MFA graduate or student. First, because it shows dedication: he or she is serious about the writing craft; this person has decided to make the craft his or her professional career. Second, because it shows that a qualified authority has also seen at least some ability in this person's writing, and is guiding them appropriately. But there is also an unavoidable third reason. As a teacher my salary does comes from student tuition, and I say with confidence that all teachers in my position realize this. It behooves us to support the very system that keeps us going, so common sense says to pay closer attention and give extra support to those who are part of it. You don't have to have the MFA yet, but as long as you're working on it, it shows that you're serious.
Even if you choose to ignore me, think of the practical considerations, people. If you don't have an MFA or aren't working on one, I have to ask: what are you doing??? This is an academic journal of new writing; almost everyone who reads it is teaching writing or somehow connected to the "ivory tower".
Among journals, we are among the more generous; besides the token copies and discounts, we pay $20 per page for literary fiction. It usually works out to around $200 for an accepted story. This is a nice perk, but if you're not a student, you're simply taking these funds away from those emerging or established professionals they were intended for. Surely you don't expect to survive on acceptance monies alone!"
Dude: First, why blameless? I don't even get that; you must feel guilty about something. Second, I don't have an MFA, and I have won your upper-tier journal's literary contest, or at least I've been a runner-up in several just like yours. And if you are the Iowa Review (which I know you're not because D.H. would never write such classist drivel), I've been a finalist for your fiction award. Readers: I say it's worth all the money I laid out for those academic review contests, every cent, because the conests are blind, and it never mattered that I didn't have an MFA, and now I get to shove it in this nameless editor's face (not my usual style, but justified, I think). Also, I say this: it's a pretty sad state of affairs when editors of well-established academic journals admit that they would rather publish work by their own (or other) MFA students, than publish good writing. Period.
The death of fiction: case closed.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
In Defense of Academe
In response to a blog post from yesterday, a hostile commenter left this bit of muscle, when I'd written: "As for the criticism of literary academia on this blog, I welcome it, along with any other critical thought about any other topic, including the blog itself. I think a lively exchange of ideas is healthy, don't you?"
"No. Not if you're criticizing academia. Without it there would be no journals, nowhere to publish fiction or poetry, no awards or support of any kind for writers. Remember that. How dare these uneducated (and probably unpublished) writers criticize the MFA, the academic system, and journals? Probably because these journals reject their work. There is no substitute for paying your dues and learning. Go back to school, work your way up. You'll be happier, and in the end you will be published."
I hope such a narrow, ungenerous response does not represent what we might find inside those ivory towers! But anyway, we've been dancing around this topic for months, so we might as well have it.
Question of the Month: "To MFA or not to MFA?"
Readers, you decide.
Flannery O'Connor
April 1st brings that special time of the year when I package up my latest unpublished short story collection, write a check for $25, and send it off to the Flannery O'Connor Award for Short Fiction at the University of Georgia Press. (Above is last year's rejection.) Why do I do it? I believe I have this fine lady's rejection to blame.
Monday, March 31, 2008
A New Story of Sorts
Another story, folks. Up for it? "Big Fishing" was emailed with a subject line that said, Reject this Tail. Go figure. Below as a prologue is the author's warning, followed by the story, which refuses to put periods inside closed quotes and surely loves the comma, but otherwise here it is.....(with apologies to those who hate the rejected story corner feature of this blog):Caution from the author: "Big Fishing" is a fiery tale or exaggerated proportions. It should not be read while under the influence of alcohol. The character Qfwfq is dedicated to Italo Calvino a genius of the highest magnitude and one of my literary heroes. Any resemblance of any other character to personages living or dead, should be highly suspected and perused in court.
Big Fishing
"I just don't now about these boys, Cap'n" Old Qfwfq mused as he stroked his wispy silver gray beard, some of the finely thin strands reaching almost to his protruding collarbone. The Captain, engrossed, as usually, in his one of fishing videos, merely nodded approval, without turning around, missing not a single line of digital feed, on his newly purchased, Extreme Definition, Super Duper, StadiumSurroundSound ©, Smell-O-Vision, Dvd Player and portable toaster oven.
"Times have changed an awful lot." Qfwfq continued, not sure if he had an audience or not. "Now before I came down with all this Rheumatism and Whooping cough and, before the Cap'n went off and got married"
"You don't have Whooping cough", Jameson quickly snapped," Whooping Cough is an actual disease and not an adjective, Qfwfq”.
Jameson, feeling quite snugged in his retort, adjusted his tie and turned back around to view, Interior Cam-C. He lightly scratched his perpetually present five o’clock shadow growth of beard.
"I just don't now about these boys, Cap'n" Old Qfwfq mused as he stroked his wispy silver gray beard, some of the finely thin strands reaching almost to his protruding collarbone. The Captain, engrossed, as usually, in his one of fishing videos, merely nodded approval, without turning around, missing not a single line of digital feed, on his newly purchased, Extreme Definition, Super Duper, StadiumSurroundSound ©, Smell-O-Vision, Dvd Player and portable toaster oven.
"Times have changed an awful lot." Qfwfq continued, not sure if he had an audience or not. "Now before I came down with all this Rheumatism and Whooping cough and, before the Cap'n went off and got married"
"You don't have Whooping cough", Jameson quickly snapped," Whooping Cough is an actual disease and not an adjective, Qfwfq”.
Jameson, feeling quite snugged in his retort, adjusted his tie and turned back around to view, Interior Cam-C. He lightly scratched his perpetually present five o’clock shadow growth of beard.
Just that moment he caught sight of a disruption in the fluctuation of wave patterns on the Electro-Static Distortion Meter. That particular meter happened to be sitting a top, of a jury-rigged, non- departmental issued, Tracking Spy-Cam, to which a curious Station-Watch Commander Jameson turned to next, for more intensive review.
"Well, when I coughs, I whoops and I when I whoop, I whoops it up for a damn long time; so if that's not Whooping cough, then I don’t know what is? Qfwfq shot back, a slight tinge of attitude lingering in his voice. "Anyway! as I was saying, we, The Cap'n and I, really knew how to live life to the fullest back in those days, not like you college boys" accused Qfwfq. Thrown off track, by the correction amended to his self appraised medical condition, Qfwfq took a moment refill his pipe. After composing himself, stuffing his pipe and nitpicking up a few vagrant shreds of tobacco along, with any glimmer of credibility left, Qfwfq continued.” Looks like all you boys are concerned with is what IRA plan will eventually net you the best false teeth. Qfwfq felt as though he had regained his confidence.
“Now there was a time when, once the young ladies had exited the Beauty, Botox and Hair Salons, they were given flyers with the Captain's and I's pictures on it; advising them, now that they were all prettied up and such, they aught to beware of smooth talking, fancy dressers such as, the Captain and I. The flyers went on to explain to them some of the finer points as to how one should conduct themselves now that they had obtained certain degree desirability. It was a pity but those girls really needed some lessons on womanhood.
"They only gave them the flyers after, they came out". The Captain chimed in. "The Christian groups particularly, they knew, that we knew, most of those girls were a real mess beforehand, they were safe for the time being, certifiably exempt. Whuuu! those girls were a real mess, fashion and hair nightmare, upon arrival." The Captain shook his head, earnestly, in mild disgust.
"Kodai! I think we just may have a Burner wandering around on level C." Gasped an elated Jameson. The distortion field was registering unauthorized frequencies and the X-ray scope function on the Spy-Cam did suggest some sort of internal electronic devices in the lower regions.
Nowadays, with all the electronic gadgets, that people are surrounded by, have on them or, are wirelessly and skinjacked hooked up to, electro-fires, incapability surges and the likes were almost an everyday occurrence, even spontaneous combustion, due to our own natural internal electrical activity interacting haphazardly with external forces had been cited in a few cases.
For liability purposes, The El Grande Shoppo Mall, like most mega-malls, has on-site, their own Mini-Fire and Emergency Rescue Station. Mini-stations usually have crews of five to ten fire fighters and various medical and technical personnel. Most days, they need only to respond to the usual, minor e-shocks, slips and falls an occasional heart attack, interestingly, usually by husband, once presented with the shopping receipts collected by his wife or teen daughter.
"Well, when I coughs, I whoops and I when I whoop, I whoops it up for a damn long time; so if that's not Whooping cough, then I don’t know what is? Qfwfq shot back, a slight tinge of attitude lingering in his voice. "Anyway! as I was saying, we, The Cap'n and I, really knew how to live life to the fullest back in those days, not like you college boys" accused Qfwfq. Thrown off track, by the correction amended to his self appraised medical condition, Qfwfq took a moment refill his pipe. After composing himself, stuffing his pipe and nitpicking up a few vagrant shreds of tobacco along, with any glimmer of credibility left, Qfwfq continued.” Looks like all you boys are concerned with is what IRA plan will eventually net you the best false teeth. Qfwfq felt as though he had regained his confidence.
“Now there was a time when, once the young ladies had exited the Beauty, Botox and Hair Salons, they were given flyers with the Captain's and I's pictures on it; advising them, now that they were all prettied up and such, they aught to beware of smooth talking, fancy dressers such as, the Captain and I. The flyers went on to explain to them some of the finer points as to how one should conduct themselves now that they had obtained certain degree desirability. It was a pity but those girls really needed some lessons on womanhood.
"They only gave them the flyers after, they came out". The Captain chimed in. "The Christian groups particularly, they knew, that we knew, most of those girls were a real mess beforehand, they were safe for the time being, certifiably exempt. Whuuu! those girls were a real mess, fashion and hair nightmare, upon arrival." The Captain shook his head, earnestly, in mild disgust.
"Kodai! I think we just may have a Burner wandering around on level C." Gasped an elated Jameson. The distortion field was registering unauthorized frequencies and the X-ray scope function on the Spy-Cam did suggest some sort of internal electronic devices in the lower regions.
Nowadays, with all the electronic gadgets, that people are surrounded by, have on them or, are wirelessly and skinjacked hooked up to, electro-fires, incapability surges and the likes were almost an everyday occurrence, even spontaneous combustion, due to our own natural internal electrical activity interacting haphazardly with external forces had been cited in a few cases.
For liability purposes, The El Grande Shoppo Mall, like most mega-malls, has on-site, their own Mini-Fire and Emergency Rescue Station. Mini-stations usually have crews of five to ten fire fighters and various medical and technical personnel. Most days, they need only to respond to the usual, minor e-shocks, slips and falls an occasional heart attack, interestingly, usually by husband, once presented with the shopping receipts collected by his wife or teen daughter.
Then there was the occasional puffer-upper to attend to, down in the Food-Pharma court, with a slice of lime or popcorn shrimp caught between the larynx and the pharynx.
But a Burner, that was a nasty deal. Here is someone, that has illegally downloaded operational software and up-linked a 3Љ hummer-bass woofer rod up his a-hole. All of this, mostly for the mere pleasure of being able to rattle his can like a 63 Chevy Impala low rider, to the squeals and delights of some sweet, easily amused, doe eyed twirliept.
Now on his own and down in the barrio, homeboy, would’ve have faced nothing more discomforting than an occasional hemorrhoid or two, by having the aforementioned gizmos fitted him where the Lord splitted him. But accompanied by accessories, like the new sleek EdeKron 4 googlebyte hard drive and dual Czechoslovakian made: banned in the US, Flesh Permeating, Sound-SurroundSpeakers, and; who knows, what manner of chop-shop hydraulics and inflatable implants, shoved in and around butt, the stakes for injury had demonstrably increased.
The crew had been lucky, not to have had, any such incursions go down on their watch since the fad had started. Not much was known as to what the youths were up to in their underground worlds of Rattleling and Can-Band but word on the street was that the technology as well as the hydraulics had amped considerably. Back in the day, a member of the Rattler’s or the Can- Band’er’s cru carried a fire extinguisher along to a dance off, to blow out an occasional flame or flare up that might have been caused in the event a dancer happened to produce a rather gaseous and ignitable fart doing his routine, be it planned or accidental. Any burns or afflictions incurred by the dancer back then was more or less superficial and even, sometimes touted about like a badge of honor by the daring performer.
But with all the rivalry now generated between the cru-s and with the escalation of hydraulics and technology, emergency rooms have reported more serious admissions. There is even a rumor going around that there is an underground video title’ Butts Gone Wild Fire’ circulating amongst more extremist elements in certain hardcore groups.
"What happened to just shaking your booty, ala naturale? Now you got all this funk in da trunk nonsense.” The Captain mumbled, just barely audible, as he reached for the Smell-O- Nozzle of the Dvd player. He wanted to get a good whiff of the trout that had just been hauled on board by the fishing party expedition featured the video.
"Maybe I should go and arrest him, for possession of illegal contraband?” Kodai said with an anticipatory smile. Even sitting Fire Officer Kodai stood taller than most men, his Russian accent enunciating each word with coldly precession. The Captain and Old Qfwfq had come to the conclusion that sitting on the wad of money, he always carried in his over-sized wallet added at least another two inches or so to his frame. He was second in command of the Mini substation, the Captain’s title being ceremonious, based on years in service rather than rank.
"No we can’t." Interjected Jameson. “I can see it now, invasion of privacy, profiling, my Spy-Cam confiscated and no way! am I going up the butt to manually pull it out. Let just keep an eye on him for now, Kodai run a frequency spotter, he got to have at least 2 cells on him, we can probably shut them down without him knowing. That aught to cut down on some of the discharge static; pull a equalizer ring field around him, that should keep him from picking up passerbyer’s static and that should keep him, and them, safe for now”.
Just then, Technoman 2nd Stat Tony Murphy slid on a dolly from under a utility rack, tools in hand, spooking both Jameson and Kodai. He had been under there for so long they forgotten he was there. Technoman 2nd Stat Tony Murphy was the youngest member of the group. He had earned the nickname ‘Two-shift’ because it appeared that he was always there, at work, at the mini-station. Legend has it that no one had ever seen him arrive to work and, for that matter, no one had ever seen him leave. It was even discussed amongst the other members of the team if maybe they should call him ‘Three-shift-Tony’.
"I heard once that some kid was ratteling , his dance-off, his pants, already half hanging off his butt, he decided to go for the Full Monty moon as a closing move, when a horde of woodpeckers flew directly at’ em. Went straight for the tushee, one of them possibly penetrating." Tony said enthusiastically, yet with all the seriousness and profession delivery of a News Reporter on assignment. The other members of the crew nodded but, more in sarcasm than agreement.
The Captain however took serious consideration to what had been said and muttered under his breath “Damn Woodpeckers ruined, My Water-King 350 Skip Jack".
Meanwhile, Jamison had rebuffed Two-shift for spending too! much on the internet’s ‘Die Space’ site. “You know that most of the stuff they report is never substantiated by any other credible news source" Jameson counseled.
“Look it was a Woodpecker that stopped the launch of shuttle mission and the Russians say one had stowed-away and they caught it on the Space Station. That’s ‘Revelations’ for you. They said it's…
Two-shift’s rebuttal was abruptly interrupted by the Captain, now irritated, due to the fond memories of his ruined craft the discussion had generated.
"So, are you guys going fishing with me next month or not?” The Captain barked, "I can’t hold reservations on that Rent a Boat forever you know".
“What's the weather gonna be like”? Quizzed Qfwfq "You know my bones reek with the rheumatism in all that cold…and wet weather".
"I might have to go to a real estate seminar that week-end." Confirmed Kodai, there’s a Shanty town, sitting on some valuable real estate down by the border, the government is going to bulldoze it soon and I want a piece that action just as soon as they do.”
"Not now, Captain" Rebuffed Jameson, "looks like our guy may be headed in the direction of Radio Hut and OK Buy, way too! much electromagnetic static down there, not to mention, the gadget goons going to shop in that area are probably top heavy with pocketops and cells. Not good, not good, Jameson reported, franticly trying to get density readout from the Static Sampler machine. “Prepare to Engage,” He announced.
Reluctant to completely surrender hold of the nozzle to the Smell-O-Vision, The Captain, using his free hand, adjusted the Fire-Stat Band to Condition: Preparatory Orange, thus allowing a noiseless drawer in the StaticGard cabinet to mechanically slide open revealing two briefcase size Electro-Trays.
“Qfwfq,” Summoned the Captain, “Do an equipment check-list count and go in the back and see if you can find or at least rig up some sort of a Proctorooter, in case we have to go in, better put on an Electro-Suit for precaution, report to Level C and be on stand-by.
"Damn E-suit”, Grunted Qfwfq, “That thing takes all day to put on and it’s hot as Hell". Qfwfq continued to complain as he hobbled back to the equipment room. “I just hope I don’t get a coughing spell once am sealed up in that suffocating thing”.
"Oh! Not now!” Shrieked Jameson. Just as luck would have it, while taking a quick survey scan of the entire C-Level. Who should he see but Old Man Nancy patronizing the Food-Pharma Court. He quickly switched over to the Spy -Cam. Jameson reported to the crew that she was sitting at a table chowing down on what looked liked Prozac Stew and washing it down with a creamy Thorazine Strawberry Shake.
“Soooo”, that why she is always so calm." Deduced Kodai.
Old Man Nancy was not some sort of Transvestite, Hermaphrodite, Trans-gender or Super Freak. Old Man Nancy was in fact not a man. Neither was Old Man Nancy old. The truth be told she was even younger than Two-shift Tony. Old Man Nancy was called that (never to her face, of course), for a couple or reasons. One, she was in charge of the whole South-West Quadrant which truly made her Da'Man. And in a case of sheer irony, Vice Commander Nancy Youngmei Wong was in fact so petite and so feminine that she was as far away as one could get from being a man without completely changing into another species. Many folks had doubts about such a seemingly gentle and feminine being even working at fire-station yet alone, being a Regional Commander. Even members within her own family thought it was all just a hoax. They concluded her she had been cleverly crafted by the Public Relations department and charged with the mission to increase female enrollment to the Fire Department.
“Damn, damn, damn". Exclaimed Jameson. “I hope she is just down there enjoying herself and not her for a surprise inspection".
“Well she is not wearing a uniform.”Kodai confirmed as he hunched over to view the display.
"In civilian clothes." Perked in”, Two-shift “Is she hot? Let me have a look at her"
Meanwhile Jameson had gone back to monitoring the Burner on the Interior Cam, or shall we say at this point, the potential Burner. In the second of time that it took Kodai to turn the Spy-cam monitor in the direction of Two-shift, she was gone from view and a disappointed Tony failed to get a look-see. "How does she do that"? Marveled Kodai.
“Hey who left the door open?" Barked Jameson, aware of changes in the quality of air. “We’re letting all the pura-Air out, you guys want to breath conventional or what? He went back to monitoring. “We are in luck guys, looks like our boy is actually headed towards the Food-Pharma Court, let’s see, he is looking around. Bingo! I think he’s going to have something to eat.
“That aught to by us some time to come up with a plan” concurred. Kodai.
From the back room the team could hear Qfwfq chatting. "Who the Hell is Old Qfwfq talking to” Puzzled the Captain”. I never-ever.. seen him as much talk on a cell phone.
"People are starting to crack, nowadays, the institutions are filling up at record numbers." Warned an easily sensationalized Two-shift, “Its all the waves of information and disinformation osmosising through the atmosphere, vexating and tribulation, interfering with and disrupting our own natural neurotransmitters, it’s a chaotic thing, I tell ya”.
“Qfwfq”! Who the Hell are you talking to?" The Captain blasted out, not wishing to descend any further into what he was sure to become another one of Two-shift’s dissertations on Chaos and the breakdown of the Human Species and, the second coming of the Mayans and, on and on and,… on.
“Old Man, I mean.. Ahw! Man, Commander Nancy is back here helping me rig up this damn E-suit” the disembodied voice of Qfwfq echoed from some place far in the back.
Moment later, clumsily out walked Old Qfwfq looking like a cross between the mummy and one of the astronauts from SpaceBoy, the popular anime character of the day. He was followed by Commander Wong now suddenly arrayed in a sleekly clad, crisp, midnight black uniform. The crew was dumbfounded. “Damn. That's why, at the other station houses, they call her The Ninja." Marveled the Captain, in an amazed whisper.
"Why is Fireman Qfwfq, the only one suiting up?" inquired Commander Nancy. “And exactly what is he suited up for? I don’t hear any sirens, see any lights a flashing” She puffed.
Whatever brand of anti-perspiration gel Station Watch Commander Jameson had put on that morning, now buckled like a Louisiana levee, under the penetrating stare of the Commander Wong. A multitude of little rivers of sweat broke free, instantly streaking his finely pressed Oxford shirt.
Kodai intervened by offering up the first explanation, citing that he was in the process of calibrating an Equalizer ring to be spun around a potential Electrocidal shopper. However, when the Commander ventured over to the monitor all she saw was Flat Rings, impotent, resting on the bottom of the visual display field. Now caught in the first spun fibers of an early web of deceit, Kodai advanced entanglement by attempted to explain why the Flat Rings were off-line and, how he was going to reconfigured the command codes and rectify the problem. At this juncture, out of Commander’s Wong’s view, without saying a word, by just pantomiming a few gestures, effectively using his hands and tools, to get the point across, Two-shift Tony was able to convey that trouble with the E-ring Emitter was the reason he had been under the utility rack in the first place. After the extraordinary performance of mime, Kodai's explanation trailed off to a whisper of high-tech jibber jabber.
While her attention was still focused on, the now barely audible, Kodai, The Captain had carefully managed to discreetly turn off the fishing video and now stood in front of a defuser circuit board. He was in the process of strapping on a Corinthian leather gun belt, with two customized, Mother of Pearl and silver handle, AED- difibber-guns as if, it had been his intention all along.
Jameson, now looked more like a man who had just ejected from a crowded subway car with a broken air conditioner on a hot August day, than he did as Station Watch Commander in a plush, state of the art, Pura-air cooled Techno-Control Room. Thinking fast, Jameson raced towards the Commander with an Operation and Procedure Book in hand. "Commander Wong" Jameson nervously approached," We got a situation here that is too! recent in scope, to be properly addressed in the manual. And I was being innovated, trying...trying to act in advance of…
Finally, Two-shift saved the day by blurting out “Commander Wong, do you know what a Burner is?”
The other mega- malls under Commander Wong’s jurisdiction were in such affluent areas and, with this rattleling craze being relatively a new phenomena confined to the hoods, barrios and inner-cities; she had no clue as to what a Burner was.
Although having saved the crew much embarrassment and possible demerits and demotions, Jameson, sensing that Two-shift may not be prone to exercising the greatest diplomacy in explaining the virtues of rattleling to a lady, even if she was a Area Commander, reasserted his charge and went on to give Commander Wong a more technical if not censored version, of the definition of a Burner. He then, very delicately, proceeded to explain how he had ascertained that presently a certain mall attending youth may in fact be a Burner.
“Is our boy ordering yet?" Changing gears, Jameson queried.
“Look like he’s is getting the number 12 at the Wimpy Burger. “ Acknowledged Kodai getting a closer, more detailed look on the Spy-Cam.
“Great!” Interjected Two-shift, that’s the Real American Burger Special, that aught to hold him for awhile, Two, quarter pound burgers, one beef, one pork, smothered in three cheeses of your choosing, toped with mayonnaise, guacamole, special sauce, additional three bacon strips on the beef burger, and your choice of complimentary toppings, a large order of sugar fried fries and a minibucket of a refreshing beverage. Man talk about good eating, I had a number 12 for breakfast this morning.
“Well then, what are we going to do, since according to Mr. Jameson, we don’t even supposed to know that he has all this hardware and software on himm, I mean in him, unless we had somehow already illegally scanned him thus invading his civil right to privacy, which, by the way,We Did.” Pronounced Commander Wong.
The Captain had seen and heard many things during his many years at the department and in service out in the field but this was the first time ever, he had ever to witness a single drop of sweat lift-off from a persons body and land to the floor with an audible’ plop!’ Jameson looked, at that moment, as if he would be in more in need the of the crew’s services than the suspected, alleged, profiled and potential Burner.
“Let’s just go grab the guy, diffuse the hardware and send him home limping”, voiced Kodai,” let the courts decide whether or not we violated his rights, in the process of possibly saving his life, or at least, his butt”
“Yavol herr kommandant”, mocked Old Qfwfq his voice muffled and at times muted from being held hostage under the canary yellow colored, hood mask with dimmer blue face shield. “We gots no rights as to what’s up that boy’s behind, If he’s fool enough to stuff it up there, then he’s fool enough to deal with the consequences but, I don’t think we can just go all up in there and trash it or, without a warrant, remove the boy’s equipment”.
“I would like to give a shoot out to the youth”, beamed in Two-Shift. “I mean like sooner
or later we’re all gonna be somehow skinjacked to this port here, getting our, whatever on. Then we be skinjacked to some port there just because it required by the law or because the
government says it's good for us. So the young folks are just upping the ante, staying ahead of
the game by becoming the source rather than be sourced or being forced to seek out the source.
“Wait a minute guys”, advised Jameson, whatever we do, let’s make sure we get this guy
into an isolated area. The last thing we need right now is someone…
“Spying on us?” Chirped Commander Nancy.
“How do you catch fish?” The Captain broke in, he had been silent and not engaged in the discussion up to this point. He touched the brim of his, non –issued, yachting captain’s cap with a two finger salute, indicating experience.
“By using good bait” Old Qfwfq spouted off, eager to be the first one in with a response.
The Captain wisely nodded and confirmed Qfwfq’s correct answer. Qfwfq, concealed behind the
opaque mask, unable to properly beam for the benefit of his fellow crew members, simply settled for ceremoniously adjusting his, no need to be adjusted E-suit, for effect.
“And what do we use for good bait?” Intoned Commander Wong, growing a bit unnerved by what she perceived were suggestive glances in her direction. The Captain took a pause and then advanced himself to the center of the group.” May I be so bold as to elaborate?” The Captain began. “No disrespect for gender or rank, Commander Wong, but since the beginning of time, for the male, the best lure of attraction has always been the charisma of a well attended to female”.
“So, you’re suggesting that I just waltz up to him and ask him to follow me to some secluded corner?” Commander Nancy asked, masking a certain degree of offense.
“No that would be crude and insulting to you, even if it did work.” The Captain assured.
“We’re talking something more refined here, something much more cultured. Don’t just assume a man is to be given in to the allures of a woman simply because she is woman?”
“Might work on him though.” Two-shift postulated in the foreground.
“Good once we get him cornered, I’ll tackle him to the ground.”Chimed Kodai.
“No, no, no.” The Captain continued, trying to get the focus back to his sermon.” What attracts a man to a woman is her sense of elegance, refinement, a mysteriously concealed sensuality…” The Captain…
“Sophistication, maturity and a nice do.” Old Qfwfq raced in, at 186.000 miles a second.
The Captain went on to explain how with the right amount or attitude and demeanor with just a hint of provocation, how she could get him to do whatever she wished without being crude, lewd or cheapish. “I suggest that you bestow upon this misdirected youth…”
“Well! Whatever she is going to bestow, she better start bestowing quick.” Interjected Two-shift bursting the melodramatic bubble.” Our boy has laid to rest the pork burger and has a firm hold on the beef. And by the way Captain, this ain’t da club.”
“Let’s get to then.” Asserted the Captain, no time to change into your civvies but could you sex up the uniform just a bit.” Reluctantly, Vice Commander, Nancy Youngmei Wong, compiled. It was decided that Commander Wong should attempt to persuade the B-boy to accompany her to Level G. Level G would have the least amount of vehicles parked on lot in the parking structure. The shops on Level G were mostly Book stores, Vintage Record shops, a Wild Bran Market and gym that catered to children. That level had very sparse foot traffic and the lot was always half deserted.
“The bun is OK by my standards but you might want to lose it for the youth.” Pitched in a faceless Qfwfq. Commander Wong sneered and set off about her mission.
Foreseeing that whatever action they decided to take may one day be added to the Fire Departments Operation and Procedures Manual, Fire Officer Jameson took the precaution of
hauling a tripod and digiCam up to Level G. He also had the presence of mind and ambition to change into another crispy pressed oxford shirt and tie for the occasion. The other crew members had brought and were in the process of assembling and laying out all the equipment and materials they thought they may possibly have to use. Along with the standard emergency medical and fire equipment, Fire Officer Kodai decided to bring a stun gun, truncheon and Tq4 professional police baton just in case, as he hoped, thing got out of hand. Qfwfq, now
having the outdoors to contend with, complained bitterly about the humidity factor he was now imagined himself to be experiencing inside the E-suit. Nevertheless he professionally went about laying out the equipment from the EletroTray in neat orderly columns. Now wishing to be outgunned by the Captain, he had also strapped on his own customized defibber gun, awkwardly, to the bulky E-suit. From outward appearance his guns looked liked standard issue but Qfwfq had fashioned a smiley face on their surface plates that would indelibly be stenciled on the chest of a deserving recipient. Technoman Murphy had gotten all his tools and gadgets set up fairly quickly and being a card carrying member of the ADD generation had already grown bored with the wait and was deeply engaged in video games and virtual simulations his PS2∞.
“Hey! Pondered Old Qfwfq, no friend to technology, himself. “Can you program into that thing, a virtual simulation as to how an Eletro-fire in the butt could come about and what the results would look like? Man oh! man, talk about your fire in the hole.” Old Qfwfq grimaced.
Two-shift Tony received the request with a great amount of consideration, then evaluation and followed by (due to the earlier ingested #12) flatulence-ation. Two-shift deem that it just might be possible and set straight forth to achieving such.
We’ll never know what charms Commander Nancy used to get the B-boy to walk her up to Level G but their effects delivered the goods. Not even the fact that she was in uniform, albeit a now sexed up uniform, could dissuade the youth from escorting her. He had even planned to treat her to a little demonstration of his musical man-humps. Sadly for him, these plans came to an abrupt end once he stepped out of the stairwell on Level G. Terror griped the lad as he saw rushing towards him, flashing badges, like two G-men from a badly produced Roaring 20’s serial; Fire Officer Jameson and Goliath-like Officer Kodai. Panicking, the youth made a run for it, his low swung trousers, impeding a quality chase. Taking a blind corner around a parking attendant’s shed, the youth collided, full force into Old Qfwfq, sending Qfwfq, much like his Diver Dan forbearer look- a - like, over the side of the guardrail and into the great abyss.
The youth, knocked out cold, had somehow triggered his play operational function to GO before his lights went out. A horrified Commander Wong, unsure as to what she could do in face of such a bizarre spectacle, looked on, frozen in her tracks.
Jameson and Kodai rushed to the aid of Fireman Qfwfq who was now suspended over seven stories by the utility belt being used to harness his diffiber guns. In the fall, the belt had become caught on a mooring post on the rail. Nevertheless, doom was still being debated by threads of government issued cloth which at that point were stretched to the breaking point; Old Qfwfq took the liberty to notify Elizabeth of his soon to be arrival into the hereafter. The fact that there was no one in Qfwfq’s life named Elizabeth was mote at that point and Qfwfq didn’t feel the need to challenge his rational mind over the issue. However Qfwfq rescue was only seconds away.
Two-shift took careful note how the sight of seeing Jameson and Kodai haul Fireman Qfwfq back from over the rail an unto the parking lot surface, looked remarkable similar to the segment had had seen earlier on the Captain’s fishing video of the fishing party hauling the caught trout on board the boat. He made an entry into his PS2∞.This bared further examination at a later time.
The Captain was the last to arrive on the scene; he had been in the portatoily, taking care of nature’s business unaware of the happenings going about outside. What he saw caused him to shout out in disgust and point a condemning finger. “That’s an abomination.” He watched the seemingly lifeless body of Francisco Javier Lopez, propelled by his technological enhanced hindquarters, rhythmically bounce up and down and to and fro, on the El Grande Shoppo Mall tarmac, to the tune of MC Hammer’s ‘Can’t Touch This,’ like a Mexican Jumping Bean two days away from its birthday.
Thank God for both the Captain’s and Commander’s Nancy sake, the tune was in its last chorus and no song had been cued up for next play. The song now played out and emotions abated, the crew set about their next course of action, all for except Qfwfq. He still lay on the tarmac, exactly where they had pulled over to and, taking full advantage of his reclined position,
decided to get himself a happy nap. He had just been through a traumatic event and thought the rest would do him good. And anyway, he wanted no parts of what he still believed to be an invasion of the youth’s civil liberties.
The youth exhibited a brief amount of dazed consciousness. Commander Nancy, gently by his side tried to offer reassuring words, just before slamming him up with full dose of Dormazine.
Jameson let go a resounding snap of the cuff of an examination glove he had just dawned. He carefully surveyed the array of surgical tools that lay before him. Jameson summarized that the collision of the youth with Qfwfq had actually been in their favor. They could report that they just wanted to question the youth on an unrelated matter. Some of their equipment was missing from the, impromptu, training demonstration they had decided to conduct. They would assert that they thought he may have been involved. They could further imply that in the aftermath of the pursuit and collision that the boy’s equipment started to dangerously malfunction thus directing the crew to investigate the conditions surrounding his behind. Seeing the imminent danger, we had no choice but to go in and remove the equipment, concluded the Station Watch Commander.
But a Burner, that was a nasty deal. Here is someone, that has illegally downloaded operational software and up-linked a 3Љ hummer-bass woofer rod up his a-hole. All of this, mostly for the mere pleasure of being able to rattle his can like a 63 Chevy Impala low rider, to the squeals and delights of some sweet, easily amused, doe eyed twirliept.
Now on his own and down in the barrio, homeboy, would’ve have faced nothing more discomforting than an occasional hemorrhoid or two, by having the aforementioned gizmos fitted him where the Lord splitted him. But accompanied by accessories, like the new sleek EdeKron 4 googlebyte hard drive and dual Czechoslovakian made: banned in the US, Flesh Permeating, Sound-SurroundSpeakers, and; who knows, what manner of chop-shop hydraulics and inflatable implants, shoved in and around butt, the stakes for injury had demonstrably increased.
The crew had been lucky, not to have had, any such incursions go down on their watch since the fad had started. Not much was known as to what the youths were up to in their underground worlds of Rattleling and Can-Band but word on the street was that the technology as well as the hydraulics had amped considerably. Back in the day, a member of the Rattler’s or the Can- Band’er’s cru carried a fire extinguisher along to a dance off, to blow out an occasional flame or flare up that might have been caused in the event a dancer happened to produce a rather gaseous and ignitable fart doing his routine, be it planned or accidental. Any burns or afflictions incurred by the dancer back then was more or less superficial and even, sometimes touted about like a badge of honor by the daring performer.
But with all the rivalry now generated between the cru-s and with the escalation of hydraulics and technology, emergency rooms have reported more serious admissions. There is even a rumor going around that there is an underground video title’ Butts Gone Wild Fire’ circulating amongst more extremist elements in certain hardcore groups.
"What happened to just shaking your booty, ala naturale? Now you got all this funk in da trunk nonsense.” The Captain mumbled, just barely audible, as he reached for the Smell-O- Nozzle of the Dvd player. He wanted to get a good whiff of the trout that had just been hauled on board by the fishing party expedition featured the video.
"Maybe I should go and arrest him, for possession of illegal contraband?” Kodai said with an anticipatory smile. Even sitting Fire Officer Kodai stood taller than most men, his Russian accent enunciating each word with coldly precession. The Captain and Old Qfwfq had come to the conclusion that sitting on the wad of money, he always carried in his over-sized wallet added at least another two inches or so to his frame. He was second in command of the Mini substation, the Captain’s title being ceremonious, based on years in service rather than rank.
"No we can’t." Interjected Jameson. “I can see it now, invasion of privacy, profiling, my Spy-Cam confiscated and no way! am I going up the butt to manually pull it out. Let just keep an eye on him for now, Kodai run a frequency spotter, he got to have at least 2 cells on him, we can probably shut them down without him knowing. That aught to cut down on some of the discharge static; pull a equalizer ring field around him, that should keep him from picking up passerbyer’s static and that should keep him, and them, safe for now”.
Just then, Technoman 2nd Stat Tony Murphy slid on a dolly from under a utility rack, tools in hand, spooking both Jameson and Kodai. He had been under there for so long they forgotten he was there. Technoman 2nd Stat Tony Murphy was the youngest member of the group. He had earned the nickname ‘Two-shift’ because it appeared that he was always there, at work, at the mini-station. Legend has it that no one had ever seen him arrive to work and, for that matter, no one had ever seen him leave. It was even discussed amongst the other members of the team if maybe they should call him ‘Three-shift-Tony’.
"I heard once that some kid was ratteling , his dance-off, his pants, already half hanging off his butt, he decided to go for the Full Monty moon as a closing move, when a horde of woodpeckers flew directly at’ em. Went straight for the tushee, one of them possibly penetrating." Tony said enthusiastically, yet with all the seriousness and profession delivery of a News Reporter on assignment. The other members of the crew nodded but, more in sarcasm than agreement.
The Captain however took serious consideration to what had been said and muttered under his breath “Damn Woodpeckers ruined, My Water-King 350 Skip Jack".
Meanwhile, Jamison had rebuffed Two-shift for spending too! much on the internet’s ‘Die Space’ site. “You know that most of the stuff they report is never substantiated by any other credible news source" Jameson counseled.
“Look it was a Woodpecker that stopped the launch of shuttle mission and the Russians say one had stowed-away and they caught it on the Space Station. That’s ‘Revelations’ for you. They said it's…
Two-shift’s rebuttal was abruptly interrupted by the Captain, now irritated, due to the fond memories of his ruined craft the discussion had generated.
"So, are you guys going fishing with me next month or not?” The Captain barked, "I can’t hold reservations on that Rent a Boat forever you know".
“What's the weather gonna be like”? Quizzed Qfwfq "You know my bones reek with the rheumatism in all that cold…and wet weather".
"I might have to go to a real estate seminar that week-end." Confirmed Kodai, there’s a Shanty town, sitting on some valuable real estate down by the border, the government is going to bulldoze it soon and I want a piece that action just as soon as they do.”
"Not now, Captain" Rebuffed Jameson, "looks like our guy may be headed in the direction of Radio Hut and OK Buy, way too! much electromagnetic static down there, not to mention, the gadget goons going to shop in that area are probably top heavy with pocketops and cells. Not good, not good, Jameson reported, franticly trying to get density readout from the Static Sampler machine. “Prepare to Engage,” He announced.
Reluctant to completely surrender hold of the nozzle to the Smell-O-Vision, The Captain, using his free hand, adjusted the Fire-Stat Band to Condition: Preparatory Orange, thus allowing a noiseless drawer in the StaticGard cabinet to mechanically slide open revealing two briefcase size Electro-Trays.
“Qfwfq,” Summoned the Captain, “Do an equipment check-list count and go in the back and see if you can find or at least rig up some sort of a Proctorooter, in case we have to go in, better put on an Electro-Suit for precaution, report to Level C and be on stand-by.
"Damn E-suit”, Grunted Qfwfq, “That thing takes all day to put on and it’s hot as Hell". Qfwfq continued to complain as he hobbled back to the equipment room. “I just hope I don’t get a coughing spell once am sealed up in that suffocating thing”.
"Oh! Not now!” Shrieked Jameson. Just as luck would have it, while taking a quick survey scan of the entire C-Level. Who should he see but Old Man Nancy patronizing the Food-Pharma Court. He quickly switched over to the Spy -Cam. Jameson reported to the crew that she was sitting at a table chowing down on what looked liked Prozac Stew and washing it down with a creamy Thorazine Strawberry Shake.
“Soooo”, that why she is always so calm." Deduced Kodai.
Old Man Nancy was not some sort of Transvestite, Hermaphrodite, Trans-gender or Super Freak. Old Man Nancy was in fact not a man. Neither was Old Man Nancy old. The truth be told she was even younger than Two-shift Tony. Old Man Nancy was called that (never to her face, of course), for a couple or reasons. One, she was in charge of the whole South-West Quadrant which truly made her Da'Man. And in a case of sheer irony, Vice Commander Nancy Youngmei Wong was in fact so petite and so feminine that she was as far away as one could get from being a man without completely changing into another species. Many folks had doubts about such a seemingly gentle and feminine being even working at fire-station yet alone, being a Regional Commander. Even members within her own family thought it was all just a hoax. They concluded her she had been cleverly crafted by the Public Relations department and charged with the mission to increase female enrollment to the Fire Department.
“Damn, damn, damn". Exclaimed Jameson. “I hope she is just down there enjoying herself and not her for a surprise inspection".
“Well she is not wearing a uniform.”Kodai confirmed as he hunched over to view the display.
"In civilian clothes." Perked in”, Two-shift “Is she hot? Let me have a look at her"
Meanwhile Jameson had gone back to monitoring the Burner on the Interior Cam, or shall we say at this point, the potential Burner. In the second of time that it took Kodai to turn the Spy-cam monitor in the direction of Two-shift, she was gone from view and a disappointed Tony failed to get a look-see. "How does she do that"? Marveled Kodai.
“Hey who left the door open?" Barked Jameson, aware of changes in the quality of air. “We’re letting all the pura-Air out, you guys want to breath conventional or what? He went back to monitoring. “We are in luck guys, looks like our boy is actually headed towards the Food-Pharma Court, let’s see, he is looking around. Bingo! I think he’s going to have something to eat.
“That aught to by us some time to come up with a plan” concurred. Kodai.
From the back room the team could hear Qfwfq chatting. "Who the Hell is Old Qfwfq talking to” Puzzled the Captain”. I never-ever.. seen him as much talk on a cell phone.
"People are starting to crack, nowadays, the institutions are filling up at record numbers." Warned an easily sensationalized Two-shift, “Its all the waves of information and disinformation osmosising through the atmosphere, vexating and tribulation, interfering with and disrupting our own natural neurotransmitters, it’s a chaotic thing, I tell ya”.
“Qfwfq”! Who the Hell are you talking to?" The Captain blasted out, not wishing to descend any further into what he was sure to become another one of Two-shift’s dissertations on Chaos and the breakdown of the Human Species and, the second coming of the Mayans and, on and on and,… on.
“Old Man, I mean.. Ahw! Man, Commander Nancy is back here helping me rig up this damn E-suit” the disembodied voice of Qfwfq echoed from some place far in the back.
Moment later, clumsily out walked Old Qfwfq looking like a cross between the mummy and one of the astronauts from SpaceBoy, the popular anime character of the day. He was followed by Commander Wong now suddenly arrayed in a sleekly clad, crisp, midnight black uniform. The crew was dumbfounded. “Damn. That's why, at the other station houses, they call her The Ninja." Marveled the Captain, in an amazed whisper.
"Why is Fireman Qfwfq, the only one suiting up?" inquired Commander Nancy. “And exactly what is he suited up for? I don’t hear any sirens, see any lights a flashing” She puffed.
Whatever brand of anti-perspiration gel Station Watch Commander Jameson had put on that morning, now buckled like a Louisiana levee, under the penetrating stare of the Commander Wong. A multitude of little rivers of sweat broke free, instantly streaking his finely pressed Oxford shirt.
Kodai intervened by offering up the first explanation, citing that he was in the process of calibrating an Equalizer ring to be spun around a potential Electrocidal shopper. However, when the Commander ventured over to the monitor all she saw was Flat Rings, impotent, resting on the bottom of the visual display field. Now caught in the first spun fibers of an early web of deceit, Kodai advanced entanglement by attempted to explain why the Flat Rings were off-line and, how he was going to reconfigured the command codes and rectify the problem. At this juncture, out of Commander’s Wong’s view, without saying a word, by just pantomiming a few gestures, effectively using his hands and tools, to get the point across, Two-shift Tony was able to convey that trouble with the E-ring Emitter was the reason he had been under the utility rack in the first place. After the extraordinary performance of mime, Kodai's explanation trailed off to a whisper of high-tech jibber jabber.
While her attention was still focused on, the now barely audible, Kodai, The Captain had carefully managed to discreetly turn off the fishing video and now stood in front of a defuser circuit board. He was in the process of strapping on a Corinthian leather gun belt, with two customized, Mother of Pearl and silver handle, AED- difibber-guns as if, it had been his intention all along.
Jameson, now looked more like a man who had just ejected from a crowded subway car with a broken air conditioner on a hot August day, than he did as Station Watch Commander in a plush, state of the art, Pura-air cooled Techno-Control Room. Thinking fast, Jameson raced towards the Commander with an Operation and Procedure Book in hand. "Commander Wong" Jameson nervously approached," We got a situation here that is too! recent in scope, to be properly addressed in the manual. And I was being innovated, trying...trying to act in advance of…
Finally, Two-shift saved the day by blurting out “Commander Wong, do you know what a Burner is?”
The other mega- malls under Commander Wong’s jurisdiction were in such affluent areas and, with this rattleling craze being relatively a new phenomena confined to the hoods, barrios and inner-cities; she had no clue as to what a Burner was.
Although having saved the crew much embarrassment and possible demerits and demotions, Jameson, sensing that Two-shift may not be prone to exercising the greatest diplomacy in explaining the virtues of rattleling to a lady, even if she was a Area Commander, reasserted his charge and went on to give Commander Wong a more technical if not censored version, of the definition of a Burner. He then, very delicately, proceeded to explain how he had ascertained that presently a certain mall attending youth may in fact be a Burner.
“Is our boy ordering yet?" Changing gears, Jameson queried.
“Look like he’s is getting the number 12 at the Wimpy Burger. “ Acknowledged Kodai getting a closer, more detailed look on the Spy-Cam.
“Great!” Interjected Two-shift, that’s the Real American Burger Special, that aught to hold him for awhile, Two, quarter pound burgers, one beef, one pork, smothered in three cheeses of your choosing, toped with mayonnaise, guacamole, special sauce, additional three bacon strips on the beef burger, and your choice of complimentary toppings, a large order of sugar fried fries and a minibucket of a refreshing beverage. Man talk about good eating, I had a number 12 for breakfast this morning.
“Well then, what are we going to do, since according to Mr. Jameson, we don’t even supposed to know that he has all this hardware and software on himm, I mean in him, unless we had somehow already illegally scanned him thus invading his civil right to privacy, which, by the way,We Did.” Pronounced Commander Wong.
The Captain had seen and heard many things during his many years at the department and in service out in the field but this was the first time ever, he had ever to witness a single drop of sweat lift-off from a persons body and land to the floor with an audible’ plop!’ Jameson looked, at that moment, as if he would be in more in need the of the crew’s services than the suspected, alleged, profiled and potential Burner.
“Let’s just go grab the guy, diffuse the hardware and send him home limping”, voiced Kodai,” let the courts decide whether or not we violated his rights, in the process of possibly saving his life, or at least, his butt”
“Yavol herr kommandant”, mocked Old Qfwfq his voice muffled and at times muted from being held hostage under the canary yellow colored, hood mask with dimmer blue face shield. “We gots no rights as to what’s up that boy’s behind, If he’s fool enough to stuff it up there, then he’s fool enough to deal with the consequences but, I don’t think we can just go all up in there and trash it or, without a warrant, remove the boy’s equipment”.
“I would like to give a shoot out to the youth”, beamed in Two-Shift. “I mean like sooner
or later we’re all gonna be somehow skinjacked to this port here, getting our, whatever on. Then we be skinjacked to some port there just because it required by the law or because the
government says it's good for us. So the young folks are just upping the ante, staying ahead of
the game by becoming the source rather than be sourced or being forced to seek out the source.
“Wait a minute guys”, advised Jameson, whatever we do, let’s make sure we get this guy
into an isolated area. The last thing we need right now is someone…
“Spying on us?” Chirped Commander Nancy.
“How do you catch fish?” The Captain broke in, he had been silent and not engaged in the discussion up to this point. He touched the brim of his, non –issued, yachting captain’s cap with a two finger salute, indicating experience.
“By using good bait” Old Qfwfq spouted off, eager to be the first one in with a response.
The Captain wisely nodded and confirmed Qfwfq’s correct answer. Qfwfq, concealed behind the
opaque mask, unable to properly beam for the benefit of his fellow crew members, simply settled for ceremoniously adjusting his, no need to be adjusted E-suit, for effect.
“And what do we use for good bait?” Intoned Commander Wong, growing a bit unnerved by what she perceived were suggestive glances in her direction. The Captain took a pause and then advanced himself to the center of the group.” May I be so bold as to elaborate?” The Captain began. “No disrespect for gender or rank, Commander Wong, but since the beginning of time, for the male, the best lure of attraction has always been the charisma of a well attended to female”.
“So, you’re suggesting that I just waltz up to him and ask him to follow me to some secluded corner?” Commander Nancy asked, masking a certain degree of offense.
“No that would be crude and insulting to you, even if it did work.” The Captain assured.
“We’re talking something more refined here, something much more cultured. Don’t just assume a man is to be given in to the allures of a woman simply because she is woman?”
“Might work on him though.” Two-shift postulated in the foreground.
“Good once we get him cornered, I’ll tackle him to the ground.”Chimed Kodai.
“No, no, no.” The Captain continued, trying to get the focus back to his sermon.” What attracts a man to a woman is her sense of elegance, refinement, a mysteriously concealed sensuality…” The Captain…
“Sophistication, maturity and a nice do.” Old Qfwfq raced in, at 186.000 miles a second.
The Captain went on to explain how with the right amount or attitude and demeanor with just a hint of provocation, how she could get him to do whatever she wished without being crude, lewd or cheapish. “I suggest that you bestow upon this misdirected youth…”
“Well! Whatever she is going to bestow, she better start bestowing quick.” Interjected Two-shift bursting the melodramatic bubble.” Our boy has laid to rest the pork burger and has a firm hold on the beef. And by the way Captain, this ain’t da club.”
“Let’s get to then.” Asserted the Captain, no time to change into your civvies but could you sex up the uniform just a bit.” Reluctantly, Vice Commander, Nancy Youngmei Wong, compiled. It was decided that Commander Wong should attempt to persuade the B-boy to accompany her to Level G. Level G would have the least amount of vehicles parked on lot in the parking structure. The shops on Level G were mostly Book stores, Vintage Record shops, a Wild Bran Market and gym that catered to children. That level had very sparse foot traffic and the lot was always half deserted.
“The bun is OK by my standards but you might want to lose it for the youth.” Pitched in a faceless Qfwfq. Commander Wong sneered and set off about her mission.
Foreseeing that whatever action they decided to take may one day be added to the Fire Departments Operation and Procedures Manual, Fire Officer Jameson took the precaution of
hauling a tripod and digiCam up to Level G. He also had the presence of mind and ambition to change into another crispy pressed oxford shirt and tie for the occasion. The other crew members had brought and were in the process of assembling and laying out all the equipment and materials they thought they may possibly have to use. Along with the standard emergency medical and fire equipment, Fire Officer Kodai decided to bring a stun gun, truncheon and Tq4 professional police baton just in case, as he hoped, thing got out of hand. Qfwfq, now
having the outdoors to contend with, complained bitterly about the humidity factor he was now imagined himself to be experiencing inside the E-suit. Nevertheless he professionally went about laying out the equipment from the EletroTray in neat orderly columns. Now wishing to be outgunned by the Captain, he had also strapped on his own customized defibber gun, awkwardly, to the bulky E-suit. From outward appearance his guns looked liked standard issue but Qfwfq had fashioned a smiley face on their surface plates that would indelibly be stenciled on the chest of a deserving recipient. Technoman Murphy had gotten all his tools and gadgets set up fairly quickly and being a card carrying member of the ADD generation had already grown bored with the wait and was deeply engaged in video games and virtual simulations his PS2∞.
“Hey! Pondered Old Qfwfq, no friend to technology, himself. “Can you program into that thing, a virtual simulation as to how an Eletro-fire in the butt could come about and what the results would look like? Man oh! man, talk about your fire in the hole.” Old Qfwfq grimaced.
Two-shift Tony received the request with a great amount of consideration, then evaluation and followed by (due to the earlier ingested #12) flatulence-ation. Two-shift deem that it just might be possible and set straight forth to achieving such.
We’ll never know what charms Commander Nancy used to get the B-boy to walk her up to Level G but their effects delivered the goods. Not even the fact that she was in uniform, albeit a now sexed up uniform, could dissuade the youth from escorting her. He had even planned to treat her to a little demonstration of his musical man-humps. Sadly for him, these plans came to an abrupt end once he stepped out of the stairwell on Level G. Terror griped the lad as he saw rushing towards him, flashing badges, like two G-men from a badly produced Roaring 20’s serial; Fire Officer Jameson and Goliath-like Officer Kodai. Panicking, the youth made a run for it, his low swung trousers, impeding a quality chase. Taking a blind corner around a parking attendant’s shed, the youth collided, full force into Old Qfwfq, sending Qfwfq, much like his Diver Dan forbearer look- a - like, over the side of the guardrail and into the great abyss.
The youth, knocked out cold, had somehow triggered his play operational function to GO before his lights went out. A horrified Commander Wong, unsure as to what she could do in face of such a bizarre spectacle, looked on, frozen in her tracks.
Jameson and Kodai rushed to the aid of Fireman Qfwfq who was now suspended over seven stories by the utility belt being used to harness his diffiber guns. In the fall, the belt had become caught on a mooring post on the rail. Nevertheless, doom was still being debated by threads of government issued cloth which at that point were stretched to the breaking point; Old Qfwfq took the liberty to notify Elizabeth of his soon to be arrival into the hereafter. The fact that there was no one in Qfwfq’s life named Elizabeth was mote at that point and Qfwfq didn’t feel the need to challenge his rational mind over the issue. However Qfwfq rescue was only seconds away.
Two-shift took careful note how the sight of seeing Jameson and Kodai haul Fireman Qfwfq back from over the rail an unto the parking lot surface, looked remarkable similar to the segment had had seen earlier on the Captain’s fishing video of the fishing party hauling the caught trout on board the boat. He made an entry into his PS2∞.This bared further examination at a later time.
The Captain was the last to arrive on the scene; he had been in the portatoily, taking care of nature’s business unaware of the happenings going about outside. What he saw caused him to shout out in disgust and point a condemning finger. “That’s an abomination.” He watched the seemingly lifeless body of Francisco Javier Lopez, propelled by his technological enhanced hindquarters, rhythmically bounce up and down and to and fro, on the El Grande Shoppo Mall tarmac, to the tune of MC Hammer’s ‘Can’t Touch This,’ like a Mexican Jumping Bean two days away from its birthday.
Thank God for both the Captain’s and Commander’s Nancy sake, the tune was in its last chorus and no song had been cued up for next play. The song now played out and emotions abated, the crew set about their next course of action, all for except Qfwfq. He still lay on the tarmac, exactly where they had pulled over to and, taking full advantage of his reclined position,
decided to get himself a happy nap. He had just been through a traumatic event and thought the rest would do him good. And anyway, he wanted no parts of what he still believed to be an invasion of the youth’s civil liberties.
The youth exhibited a brief amount of dazed consciousness. Commander Nancy, gently by his side tried to offer reassuring words, just before slamming him up with full dose of Dormazine.
Jameson let go a resounding snap of the cuff of an examination glove he had just dawned. He carefully surveyed the array of surgical tools that lay before him. Jameson summarized that the collision of the youth with Qfwfq had actually been in their favor. They could report that they just wanted to question the youth on an unrelated matter. Some of their equipment was missing from the, impromptu, training demonstration they had decided to conduct. They would assert that they thought he may have been involved. They could further imply that in the aftermath of the pursuit and collision that the boy’s equipment started to dangerously malfunction thus directing the crew to investigate the conditions surrounding his behind. Seeing the imminent danger, we had no choice but to go in and remove the equipment, concluded the Station Watch Commander.
Kodai rived up the whirling proctorooter that Qfwfq had managed to rig up from various parts of other equipment. The dental drill whirl of the device caused Qfwfq to abandon his happy nap. Kodai proceeded to order the Captain to get the KY jell and prepare for entry. An empathic Commander Wong asked if the procedure would cause the youth much pain. Commander Nancy was unaware that she was absentmindedly rubbing his Francisco’s back with tender care as she look expectantly, back and forth one officer to another searching for some reassuring answer. She found none.
The Captain respectfully saluted then began to draw down the boys oversized boxers shorts. Commander Nancy, hand held to her mouth and turned away. Staff Officer Kodai revved up the proctorooter one more time, sending it through it various gears, like a Harley in heat.
“My God,” gasped Old Qfwfq from his sedentary post. He now felt a surge of guilt from having rigged up the apparatus.” Do we really have to go up the kid’s butt with that thing?”
“Its either that or possibly this” piped up Technoman 2nd Stat Murphy. Two-shift had just at that moment received the benefits of his labors. The information and various codes he had loaded into his PS2∞ finally posted. He could now run a simulation of an electric butt fire due to either malfunctioning components or shoddy workmanship. The crew temporarily abandoned their roles to view the rather life like graphics displayed on Tony’s PS2∞. Jameson complimented Two-shift on the quality of the program and suggested he upload it to the Digicam for further evidence on the hazardousness of the dangerous new fad.
“Hey! Yelled Qfwfq,” He was now quite comfortable speaking from a prone position. He had also concluded that the E-suit wasn’t really that bad so long as you didn’t have to walk or work in it. Its heavily padded insulation panels offered it nest like quality. It made, for Qfwfq, a rather nice sleeping bag. “Why don’t we just bring the boy out of nacreous, show him the program Commander Nancy take the boy off privately and personally explain to him the dangers of such lifestyle?”
And bring that thing over here so I can have a look. Also I am on break now; I’ll be out here awhile.
Many years later, as Tony Murphy leaned over port side of the Captain’s new and, paid for, RiverQueen Deluxe, Twin Board with the optional, anti-Woodpecker undercoat, He reminisced.
“Cap’n who would have thought it?
The Captain, already sensing where Tony was headed. Shook his head, to indicate, not him.
“Doctor Francisco Javier Lopez, Designer and President of a fortune 500 company, designing sound systems used to restore hearing capacities to the deaf and hearing impaired.”
“That freeloading Jameson and Kodai got rich just by buying up all that stock in his company.”
“And how about that Mrs. Lopez”
“I wonder if she still has her old uniform”
“You ever hear from Old Qfwfq?”
“No he kind of disappeared, years ago, last I heard he we headed somewhere up North, in the wilderness.”
“Not the hiking suit that doubles as a suspendable sleeping bag idea?”
“Yup”
“Cap’n, who in their right mind would want to hang from a tree in an over puffed suit?”
“At least he’ll have one customer.”
“Hey! remember the stupid jingle idea he had as sales promotion?”
“To the Bears 1.2.3. CAN’T TOUCH THIS!”
“To the Bears 1.2.3. CAN’T TOUCH THIS!”
“Hey I think I got a bite”
The Captain respectfully saluted then began to draw down the boys oversized boxers shorts. Commander Nancy, hand held to her mouth and turned away. Staff Officer Kodai revved up the proctorooter one more time, sending it through it various gears, like a Harley in heat.
“My God,” gasped Old Qfwfq from his sedentary post. He now felt a surge of guilt from having rigged up the apparatus.” Do we really have to go up the kid’s butt with that thing?”
“Its either that or possibly this” piped up Technoman 2nd Stat Murphy. Two-shift had just at that moment received the benefits of his labors. The information and various codes he had loaded into his PS2∞ finally posted. He could now run a simulation of an electric butt fire due to either malfunctioning components or shoddy workmanship. The crew temporarily abandoned their roles to view the rather life like graphics displayed on Tony’s PS2∞. Jameson complimented Two-shift on the quality of the program and suggested he upload it to the Digicam for further evidence on the hazardousness of the dangerous new fad.
“Hey! Yelled Qfwfq,” He was now quite comfortable speaking from a prone position. He had also concluded that the E-suit wasn’t really that bad so long as you didn’t have to walk or work in it. Its heavily padded insulation panels offered it nest like quality. It made, for Qfwfq, a rather nice sleeping bag. “Why don’t we just bring the boy out of nacreous, show him the program Commander Nancy take the boy off privately and personally explain to him the dangers of such lifestyle?”
And bring that thing over here so I can have a look. Also I am on break now; I’ll be out here awhile.
Many years later, as Tony Murphy leaned over port side of the Captain’s new and, paid for, RiverQueen Deluxe, Twin Board with the optional, anti-Woodpecker undercoat, He reminisced.
“Cap’n who would have thought it?
The Captain, already sensing where Tony was headed. Shook his head, to indicate, not him.
“Doctor Francisco Javier Lopez, Designer and President of a fortune 500 company, designing sound systems used to restore hearing capacities to the deaf and hearing impaired.”
“That freeloading Jameson and Kodai got rich just by buying up all that stock in his company.”
“And how about that Mrs. Lopez”
“I wonder if she still has her old uniform”
“You ever hear from Old Qfwfq?”
“No he kind of disappeared, years ago, last I heard he we headed somewhere up North, in the wilderness.”
“Not the hiking suit that doubles as a suspendable sleeping bag idea?”
“Yup”
“Cap’n, who in their right mind would want to hang from a tree in an over puffed suit?”
“At least he’ll have one customer.”
“Hey! remember the stupid jingle idea he had as sales promotion?”
“To the Bears 1.2.3. CAN’T TOUCH THIS!”
“To the Bears 1.2.3. CAN’T TOUCH THIS!”
“Hey I think I got a bite”
End
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