Saturday, 11 December 2010

Project Rain 8

Chapter 7 continued

I woke up to the worst hangover of my life. That was probably a lie as I was prone to some highly experimental freestyle partying when I was still young and successful, but right now I was pretty impressed by the constant super nova inside my head. I tried to sit up. A task which almost turned me into a puke fountain. But the cramps that ripped my insides apart informed me that I had already  done my share of reverse feasting while I was still mostly unconscious. That left me only with dribbling bit of bile out of the corner of my mouth and hyperventilating to pass my time. I passed out again and found myself lying on the floor my face pressing into the rough carpet the next time I came to again. My left arm still resting on the sofa from which I must have fallen. Somewhere far away in the corner of the room lay a blanket in a disgusted pile. It had probably tried to get as far from me as possible. The air in the room was stale and had the acid smell of old sweat. Lovely.
    The door opened sending in a wave of fresh air that mixed with that in the room somehow managing to smell even more offensive. Framed by the open door with dramatic back illumination stood a pair of dour looking boots. Staying close to the heels was the mean looking rifle barrel that had greeted me when I had arrived here. The boots move a couple of steps forward with the barrel jumping up and with to much enthusiasm for my flattened self took the lead. It had almost arrived in my face opening its large dark maw as if to sniff at me. I could smell a faint odour of CL20 the solid fuel that propelled its bullets. The boots restrained the over eager rifle.
'You are alive.' said the boots. Strange they had a woman’s voice. Still dangerous but more conspicuously hidden knife edges and less the ceramic capped shin breakers that I saw.
'Old habits die hard.'
'What do you want from me?'
'A coffee would be grand.'
'Do I look like a waitress to you?'
'No. You look like a pair of angry boots to me. But you asked and I thought it might be worth the risk. I had a rather rough night and went through some rather surprising lengths to find you.' I drooled a bit. 'I have different hangovers fighting a war of succession over my almost dead body. A coffee would be very nice.' Silence. 'I'd be your best friend forever?' I croaked.
    I heard a contemptuous snort. Then the boots turned around and walked right out of the room. The evil rifle following it but not with out glancing in my direction every so often. The door slammed shut instantly sending whole factory loads of rusty nails and screws into my head. A whimper crawled out of my throat into safety. I started to empathise with Europa herself who had been viciously skewered by thousands of terraformers to make her more habitable to man kind. I was still wondering if that meant that I was now a hospitable place for lice to live on when the door opened again and the boots came back in. This time without the rifle. Instead they brought with them the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. My stomach was preparing to give me another mime show depicting the angry washing machine but my hippocampus campus told it to shut up and with its best 'Let this be a lesson to you' expression released a tiny bit of joy into my bloodstream.

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