weekend - 7. assignment - cruise ship

by nick nelson

part seven of ?

to read previous episode, click here

to begin at the beginning, click here

“i don’t suppose i get my hundred dollars in advance,” victor asked mister green after the teenaged girl had purchased a couple of bagels and left. “no, you couldn’t spend it in the other dimension anyway,” mister green replied.. “and if you don’t make it back - “ mister green smiled and spread his hands. “what are the chances i won’t make it back?” victor asked. “oh, there’s no real danger. about the same as if you delivered a pizza across town. if you delivered across to town, to bayview or someplace, you could get killed doing that. right?” “i guess.” “look, now that i got you, i will contact the other two operatives i got lined up for this job. they should be here in an hour or so. they will explain the setup to you.” “all right. should i just wait here?” “if you like. it looks like it’s clearing up outside, you can go sit in that little park, get some fresh air.” victor took the hint. “all right, i’ll do that. these guys i am going with, they are experienced in this sort of thing?” “actually, it is a couple of girls, not guys. cleo and joanie. they are both experienced, especially cleo. the basic gig is they are a couple of maids and you’ll be a butler. but they will give you the particulars. “all right.” victor was a little disappointed by this. he did not care much for women, and he got his fill of them during the week, working with them and having one for his boss. but he did not say anything to mister green, and he took his coffee and bagel and went outside to the little park mister green had indicated. the rain had stopped. victor took a free newspaper out of a kiosk and dried off the seat of a park bench with it and sat down to wait for cleo and joanie. after finishing his coffee and half the bagel, he took out his phone and began watching an episode of return to the planet of the dinosaurs. * cleo was dark and joanie was blonde, and they were both short and skinny and kind of mean looking. victor had never seen a maid - or a butler - except on television, and he supposed they looked the part. did maids on television ever have long legs and big hooters? maybe in porno but probably not on regular tv or real life. cleo, seated beside him on the bench, was explaining something to him and he tried to pay attention. joanie was standing in front of him, blocking his view of the street and the deli. “- we are on a cruise ship, a very exclusive cruise ship,” cleo was saying. four of the guests are in a suite, playing bridge.” “bridge?” victor asked. was that something like charades? “it’s a card game,” joanie said. “always played by four people.” “right.” victor nodded. “um- do i have to know how to play?” “no,” cleo told him. “the players will play, we are just the butler and the maids. listen up. the four players will be george soros, hillary clinton, angela merkel, and vladinir putin. you got that?” victor had heard about george soros but did not know what he looked like. the name angela merkel sounded sort of familiar. with hillary clinton and putin he was on more solid ground. “you look a little confused,” cleo said. “are they really going to be these people?” victor asked. they both laughed. “what a question!” said cleo, and ”what a rookie!” joanie added. “i was just asking,” victor mumbled. “i’m new to this.” “that’s o k,” cleo told him, in an almost friendly tone. “listen - this is all you have to know. when they are playing, you will go in - “ “we will tell you when, “ joanie said. “and you will say to them,” cleo continued, “‘we have excellent vodka , if you would like some with your coffee.’ and then hillary clinton will say, “i had enough cheap vodka back in odessa.’” “and you will say to her,” joanie said, “‘madam is pleased to be droll.’ that’s all you have to say. as soon as you say that, we will take over . think you can remember that?” “you will recognize hillary clinton, right?” cleo asked. “sure,” “anyway, she will be the one saying. i had enough cheap vodka back in odessa.’.” said joanie. "got it.” victor took his phone off his lap and starting punching it.” “what are you doing?” cleo almost shouted. “i am just getting all that down.” “no, no, no - no cell phones,” cleo said. “there are no cell phones in this dimension. you will just have to remember what to say, all right?” “i guess,” victor agreed. “we will run through it a few more times,” said joanie. “so you should be o k.” cleo stood up. “all right, let’s do it.” 8. on the high seas

weekend - 6. mister green

by nick nelson

part six of seven or ?

to read previous episode, click here

to begin at the beginning, click here

victor woke up the next morning. it was almost eight o’clock. it was a gray, rainy day outside. he made himself a cup of store brand instant coffee and checked the news and weather on his phone. the main story was about an 83 year old woman living in an assisted living facility in nevada who had won 3.7 billion dollars in a lottery. she did not have anything to say about it, at least to reporters. this reminded victor - if he needed reminding - that he had lost fifty dollars to willie the night before betting on the redskins. now he needed money more than ever so he decided, hopeless as it sounded, to go over to see mr green at his deli on wherever street - he checked the note on his phone and it was 11th street - per willie’s information. * it was still raining outside. victor did not want to pay for bus fare and he never wore a hat or carried an umbrella because those things were for girlymen so he got kind of wet. he found the deli - green’s deli. he had never actually been in a deli before and was not sure what they sold, especially at nine o’clock in the morning. the place was small - smaller than it looked from outside. there were no other customers. a chubby old man with thick glasses and a mop of white hair was behind the counter. was this mr green? “what can i do for you?” the old man asked. victor saw some bagels in the glass case, so he said “a bagel.” for some reason he expected some kind of sarcastic response, but the old man just said, “any particular kind?” “um - plain.” “anything on it? you want it sliced?” “yeah - sliced. nothing on it.” “you want coffee - something to drink?” “coffee would be good.” “large, small, medium? how do you want it?” was he expected to say something like columbian vanilla, or sierra leone five bean? victor hated coffee shops. he said, “medium, black”, and braced himself for a sneer. the old man just said, “coming right up.” what a friendly, unpretentious place! maybe i should start coming to these delis, victor thought. “are you mister green?” victor asked the old man, who had his back to him pouring the coffee. “that’s me.” “wil - parker schofield sent me.” “why didn’t you say so? you looking for work?” “yes.” victor picked up the coffee and the brown bag with the two slices of plain bagel in it that mr green had placed on the counter. “you done this kind of work before?” “i don’t even know what the work is.” “ha ha. no problem. but i’ll pay you the rookie rate.” “i guess. what might that be?” “one hundred.” victor had been hoping for two hundred, but he said “o k”. mr green looked at victor as if expecting a question, so victor said “what do i do? what is this job?” “oh, a little bit of this, a little bit of that, but you travel to another dimension. you got a problem with that?” “no.” “ever travel to another dimension before?” “uh - not so far as i know.” “ha ha, good answer.” just then another customer came in, a teenage girl with a big ring in her nose, and mister green broke off his conversation with victor to serve her. so far, victor was pleased with the way things were going. one hundred dollars was not much, but it was a start. and this other dimension stuff, somebody must be doing it, so how bad could it be? 7. assignment - cruise ship

weekend - 5. victor

by nick nelson

part five of six or more

to read previous episode, click here

to begin at the beginning, click here

victor had been losing money betting on football and basketball games, so he decided to try to make a little extra money on the weekends. his first preference was to make money as a hit man, or trained deadly assassin, but he was not sure as to how to advertise his services, or if anybody would want to retain his services, considering his lack of experience and expertise in such matters. he had a friend named willie, who was a gambler like himself, and that he sometimes bet with, and willie seemed to know everything and everybody, so victor decided to seek his advice. victor found willie at his usual place at the bar under the big screens at yancey’s sports cafe. there was a women’s college softball game on the screen above his head, but willie was ignoring it and reading ring magazine. he finished the story he was reading when victor sat down beside him, and then he put the magazine down on top of his copies of the racing form, the gold sheet, and detective comics. victor bought willie a beer and willie thanked him and asked victor what he could do for him. after the bartender had moved back to the other end of the bar, victor explained his situation. when victor got to the part about wanting to be a hit man, willie laughed so loudly that the other two customers in the place - an old man wearing a straw hat and a hipster with a man bun - looked up briefly. willie made a show of wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “dude, don’t you know that 93.6 perceny of american boys and 72,7 percent of american girls grow up wanting to be professional hit persons or trained deadly assassins? “ “yes and the rest want to be serial killers and porn stars. i know that, but i thought maybe you could help me out.” “no, man, i don’t think i can help you out.” willie put a serious expression on his face and looked off in the direction of the rest rooms. “but… maybe… i don’t know… tell me, did you have any particular type of job in mind?” “i thought maybe i could kill some of the evil people that rule the world.” willie smirked. “anybody particular in mind?” “um - georrge soros maybe… hillary clinton… nancy pelosi — jay-z…” willie shook his head. “bro, i don’t want to get personal or insult you or anything, but that is just pathetic. pathetic. a person of your age… don’t you realize that none of these people… none of these people you see on television or with their pictures in newspapers really exist? that that’s just what they want you to think. all these people are just holograms… projections on a screen…”. willie spoke slowly, with a lot of pauses between words, and victor finally interrupted. “i thought maybe these people were all played with actors.” “no, man, maybe back in the old days, with moses or abraham lincoln or jfk they did things that way, but this is the modern world and there’s technology and stuff.” victor did not think it looked like willie could help him out. “well, maybe you could fuck up the technology or something, and sort of take these so-called people out that way.” “ha,ha! it’s not as simple as that. but at least it shows your thinking, my man, and i guess that’s progress.” “well, be that as it may, do you think you help me out? all i want is to make a few dollars, it does not have to be as a hit man. that was just a thought, you know?” willie considered this. “i might be able to help you out. i’m not making any promises. let me tihnk. let me think…. i know a guy who might have something for you. maybe.” “thank you. tonight? can i see this guy tonight.” “no, i don’t think so. he’s got a store… a little deli over on 11th street. he wouldn’t be there himself this time of night. you can go over and see him in the morning. ask for mr green.” “great, thank you very much. and tell him willie sent me?” “no, no, no! tell him - parker schofield sent you - parker schofield. can you remember that?” victor wondered if "parker schofield" was willie's real name, but did not ask. “let me make a note of it.” victor took his phone out of his pocket. “thanks again.” “think nothing of it. always glad to help out. that’s what we are here on this earth for, to help each other out.” willie looked up at the screen. “the game starts in about ten minutes. the chiefs versus the redskins. want to put a bet down? chiefs are favored by five at home.” “uh - i don’t think so,” victor mumbled. “not tonight. that’s why i’m looking to make a few dollars, because things haven’t been going my way.” “come on, man. you still got to live your life. keep the juices flowing. i’ll take the chiefs at four and a half, what do you say? for a hundred.” “uh - i don’t know.” “what are you going to do, just sit and watch a game with nothing invested? that’s no way to live.” “how about for fifty?” “all right, but for the whole five points.” victor sighed. all right.” he wondered if the day would ever come when he didn’t let people push him around and talk him into doing things he didn’t want to do. 6. mister green

weekend - 4. unknown

by nick nelson

part four of five or six

to read previous episode, click here

to begin at the beginning, click here

the rain continued to fall through the long dreary weekend as inspector overwith of the criminal investigation department made his researches into the murder of the world famous detective m francois flan. ursula, the other surviving guests, and aunt amanda passed the time playing bridge and backgammon, discussing the sad state of the world, and answering inspector overwith’s tiresome and intrusive questions as best they could, and with such grace as they could summon. finally, at a few minutes before midnight on sunday, inspector overwith summoned the guests into the drawing room to reveal his conclusions. inspector overwith cleared his throat. “let me begin,” he began, “by summarizing the case.” the guests nodded politely, no one challenged the inspector’s statement, and he continued. “m flan , the world famous detecive, was murdered in his bed sometime between five o’clock and eight o’clock on friday evening. he was stabbed in the heart with an ordinary kitchen knife that could have been purchased at walmart or costco, on amazon, or dozens of other stores or online sites. there were no fingerprints on the knife. the door to his room was unlocked, and anybody could have entered it at any time. the window to his room was likewise unlocked. although the room was located on an upper floor, a ladder was found in an unlocked shed nearby, and showed signs of recent use. although all of the occupants of the house, guests and staff, had been seen constantly by other occupants during the time the murder must have taken place, nobody could account for every minute of their time. m flan had no enemies among the occupants of the house, and no one with a motive to murder him. three of the guests - miss chuff, sir devilish keene, and cardinal gogol, are world famous detectives themselves, so they could not have committed the crime. ms amanda sutcliffe, the hostess and owner of the house, is well known and highly thought of in the community, is noted for her good works, and gives unreservedly to numerous charities and civic organizations, including the democratic and republican parties, so she can be ruled out. mr jonathon sutcliffe is a billionaire, and was passed out drunk when the murder took place, so he can be eliminated. morris, the butler, and the other servants have been employed by ms sutcliffe for many years, and can also be eliminated. the only persons left not accounted for are professor molcroft-lawgiver, the world’s greatest mathematician, and ms ursula underwood, a niece of ms sutcliffe’s invited for the weekend. besides being vouched for personally by ms sutcliffe, both professor molcroft-lawgiver and ms underwood are left handed, and the knife was driven into m flan’s heart by a right handed person. all the suspects being thus eliminated, we are left with two possible conclusions - that the murderer is an unknown person whose identity will never be discovered in a hundred million years, or - the most likely solution - that the murder was of supernatural origin. thank you,” the inspector concluded. “ you are all free to go about your business.” “excuse me. sir,” morris, the butler, spoke up. “may i make a couple of observations?” “please do,” the inspector replied with a barely perceptible hint of annoyance. “you say that no one had a motive to murder m flan. but three of the other guests are also world famous detectives. might not professional jealousy in the case of one or more of them been a factor?” “i considered that possibility, and rejected it.” “and here is something else,” morris went on, ”have you considered the possibility that some of the guests might not be who they seem? that they might be impostors?” “look,” the inspector replied, “do i tell you how to carry a drink on a tray, or give upstairs maids their marching orders? you do your job, pal, and i’ll do mine, all right?” “very good, sir.” morris dropped his gaze. “but may i make one final observation?” “and what might that be?” “bigfoot has been reported in the area.” “well, there you go!” the inspector exclaimed. “thank you, my man. you’ve cracked the case! i will send you a couple of tickets to the policeman’s ball.” “thank you, sir.” the guests being free to go, and the storm having abated slightly, ursula said goodbye to aunt amanda, and made her way outside to her car. driving down the dark road back to the city, ursula saw a hulking figure walking down the road. it stopped when it heard the car and waved her down. it was bigfoot. ursula stopped and opened the door for him. “a rotten night,” ursula observed as she restarted the car. “it was worse before,” said bigfoot. “yes, it was. you know, there was a murder back at the house, and you got blamed for it.” “again! i get blamed for everything! life is so unfair.” “isn’t it, though,” ursula agreed. “i don’t know why people can’t be more trusting.” bigfoot just sighed in response. ursula found an oldies staton on the radio and they listened to it all the way back to the city. so ended ursula’s account of her weekend. 5. victor

weekend - 3. ursula

by nick nelson

part three of four or five

to read previous episode, click here

to begin at the beginning, click here

ursula had been invited by her aunt amanda to spend the weekend at her estate on the tip of the island. her cousin jonathan, whom ursula had not seen since they were children, and who was reputed to have made billions in mining on mars and the moons of jupiter, had also been invited, and ursula was looking forward to meeting him. it was raining heavily when ursula arrived, and the wind was blowing off the sound. she paid the cab driver, and hurried indoors where aunt amanda was waiting for her. “well, “ aunt amanda greeted ursula with her hearty booming laugh, “it does not look like we will get much tennis or boating in this weekend, , but at least i have some interesting guests for you to meet.” “i am happy to hear that,” ursula smiled politely, as she shook some raindrops off her hat and coat. “and i have put you in your old room on the top floor,” aunt amanda continued, “which you loved so much as a child.” “i am so looking forward to seeing jonathon again,” ursula said. “as we have not seen each other since those long ago happy golden days of childhood.” “yes, jonathon is here. well, then, you had better get yourself settled in and get down to the drawing room quickly, while he is still sober enough to speak coherently.” but by the time ursula had gone up to her own room, changed into dry clothing, made herself presentable, and gone down to the drawng room, cousin jonathon had been taken up to his room, feeling “indisposed”. amanda introduced ursula to some of the other guests, as, outside, the rain began to fall with increased fury, and the wind to howl. to ursula’s astonishment the first three guests she was introduced to were the celebrated sir devilish keene, cardinal gogol, and miss chuff - all three famous amateur detectives who had solved a number of seemingly impossible crimes, most of them in just such surroundings as ursula now found herself. after politely expressing her feelings of great honor at being introduced to such eminent beings, ursula drew amanda aside into the shadow of the drawing room’s enormous fireplace. “good gracious, amanda,” ursula said in a low voice, “what are you thinking - inviting these carrion crows to your home for an entire weekend? do you not know that murder follows them wherever they go? and not one, not two, but three of them?” “actually, there is a fourth,” amanda replied. “m francois flan, who has not appeared yet, as he is a notorious night person.” “but do you not see that are tempting fate by inviting even one of them?” ursula persisted. “not at all - quite the opposite. i have yet another distinguished guest, who is wandering around somewhere - probably lost - ah! here you are , professor! “ “I am here, indeed, agatha,” the newcomer, a portly gentleman in a maroon suit, and with a twinkle in his eye, replied. “where else would i be, eh?” “professor, i would like you to meet my niece, ms ursula underwood. ursula, permit me to introduce the famous professor leonard molcroft-lawgiver, the world’s greatest mathematician and most renowned collector of assyrian death masks.” “pleased, i am sure.” the professor fixed his twinkling gaze on ursula. “ursula,” agatha continued, “was just expressing to me her concern that inviting all these famous detectives for the weekend was inviting a murder to happen, as they always seem to be on hand when one or more does. perhaps you can explain to her, as lucidly as you explained to me, why she should have no worries.” “ha, ha! my dear young lady, not only should you have no worries, you should feel as safe as if you were ensconced in a steel diving bell fifty thousand feet below the surface of jupiter. because, you see, the probability that any one of these worthies will ever encounter another murder is , by my calculations, as small as that a black hole will suddenly emerge in eau claire wisconsin and swallow the galaxy we are having this discussion in. that a murder would occur in a locale where all four are present is, by my estimate, approximately ten to the 160th power to 1 - ten to the 160th power being a bit less than the number of atoms in the niverse.” morris, aunt agatha’s butler, happened to be passing by with a drink on a tray. “excuse me, sir,” he politely addressed the professor. “but might your reasoning not be that of the classic gambler’s fallacy - the idea that a number or event is ‘due’ or ‘hot’ or ‘cold’, rather than independent. might not the possibilty of a murder be the same in any weekend gathering, regardless of who is in attendance.” “yes,” the professor replied thoughtfully. “you might have a point there.” “and besides,” said ursula, “i don’t care about diving bells on jupiter or black holes in wherever wisconsin, i just don’t want to get murdered.” suddenly a scream echoed down the great spiral staircase from the guest rooms above. “whatever can that be?” exclaimed aunt agatha. “morris, leave that drink on that table, whoever it may belong to, and see what that is about.” “yes, madam.” ursula, agatha, and the professor dod not have long to wait. morris returned in a matter of minutes. “i am afraid we shall have to summon the police, madam. one of the guests has been murdered in his bed.” “but the only guests who are in bed are jonathon and m flan - and he is a famous detective himself!” “that is true, madam. and it is indeed m flan who is the injured party.” “but - that can not be!” aunt agatha protested. “a world famous detective murdered!” “i am afraid,” the professor announced gravely, “that something has gone very wrong with the universe.” and he took a pipe from his pocket and began carefully packing it. 4. unknown

weekend - 2. terence

by nick nelson

part two of four

to read part one, click here

terence and a bunch of his survivalist buddies set out on friday night for the hills to do some serious training. when they got to the campsite, zack, the leader, called the guys together and told them they needed to start getting their act together and do some serious training this week, that they had been slacking and coasting lately, and that if they were not serious about getting ready for the coming apocalypse, maybe they should just join a weekend beer drinking club instead. just as zack was finishing his exhortation, a great light appeared in the sky, and a space ship landed. it was about twenty feet high and eighty feet wide, and had a rectangular shape. “that does not look very efficient for traveling through space, “ terence observed. “probably because they traveled through time, not space,” zack explained patiently. the door of the ship - space ship or time ship or whatever it was - opened and a creature emerged and approached the guys. it was about nine feet tall, and looked like either a cyborg or something encased in heavy armor. it moved in a stiff way, pumping its heavy legs up and down in a regular rhythm. zack pointed his mtj-78 at it and the creature laughed heartily. “go ahead, my friend, if you are not afraid of your round bouncing back and hitting you, ha ha!” zack did not lower his weapon. “you speak good english, anyway. what can we do for you?” “not what you can do for us, my friend,” the alien answered. “but what we can do for you.” “and what might that be?” zack asked. “we can give you an opportunity for some real training. a taste of real war, in real time.” zack was intrigued, but asked as casually as he could, “and why would you want to do that? in words of one syllable, what is in it for you?” “well, my friend,” the alien continued. “let me back up a little, and explain to you exactly who i am and what i am doing here.” “that sounds like a good idea,” zack admitted. “my name is yargo, and i am a commander in the space fleet and army of the xxxxian empire, which has ruled the axandon galaxy wisely and well for countless millennia. now, however, the various tribes and races that we have ruled so wisely and so well, have been led astray by evil troublemakers and demagogues, and in a fury of ingratitude, have rebelled against us - “ “hey,” zack said, “that sounds familiar. sounds a lot like what us white men have right here and now. what do you think, guys?” “let the guy finish,” pete told zack. “let’s hear what he has to say.” “what i have to say.” the alien continued, “ is that despite our superior firepower, our superior civilization and technology, our superior tactics and strategy and generalship, and having right on our side, the little bastards are overwhelming us with sheer numbers. so we need all the help we can get, even from untrained dummies - excuse me, but it is the truth - like yourselves. as for what is in it for you, i can only say that the only real training is war itself - not running around these peaceful green hills and drinking beer. so, do you want some real training? or not?” “put us in, coach!” zack and terence and the guys all shouted as one! “i knew you would - i could see you guys were real warriors as soon as i saw you.” the alien pointed to the ship. “all right. get on board. no need to take those pathetic weapons with you - we will issue you some real weapons.” the guys all put their weapons in the rack in the bed of zack’s truck, and followed commander yargo into the ship. they were led down a corridor to what looked like the waiting room of a doctor’s office, with plastic chairs and a big round plastic table. the plastic chairs were covered in a spongey looking material. “wait here,” yargo told them. a couple of the guys sank down into the sponge-covered chairs. “damn, this is comfy,” pete exclaimed. ”i got to get me one of these!” “it’s like getting a massage,” rex agreed. terence and bear and zack did not sit down right away but picked up some of the comic books and magazines on the round table. terence picked up an “archie vs batman” comic and began flipping through it. he was not impressed, even though he had never seen an archie and batman together comic. bear picked up a magazine called “modern ammo” . he read a little bit. “check this out,” he said, “the great new cartridges for your asv-39.” “asv-39!” zack exclaimed. “there ain’t no such thing!” he dropped the magazine he had started to read. “guys, something is not right here.” no sooner had he opened his mouth than pete and rex and the other guys who had sat in the chairs started screaming. the chairs were devouring them! the spongey material began boiling over then and holding them captive! “fuck this!. let’s haul ass!” zack cried. terence and bear and the other guys who had not sat in the chairs hesitated for a second. joe bob tried to grab rex and pull him out of the chair that had almost covered him with boiling goo! big mistake! joe bob got sucked into the chair himself in seconds! the others made a break for it! they raced back down the corridor into the open air. yargo - or another alien who looked just like him - was waiting for them with the longest barreled , nastiest looking weapon they had ever seen . he blew zack’s head off with a single shot! terence and bear and morty hauled some serious ass down the hill! but they made it. they looked back and saw the ship taking off back into the sky. “that’s the last time i trust a fucking alien!” morty gasped. “amen, brother,” bear agreed. “add them to the motherfucking list.” they made it back down to the highway just as dawn was breaking. terence got a ride from a trucker and made it back to the city just in time to take a shower and change and get to work. 3. ursula