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115 lines
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115 lines
6.3 KiB
Plaintext
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ
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John's Diner°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°Who Was That Guy?°°°°°°°°°°°°°by Lucia Chambers
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ßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßß
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Jeff Green squinted into the sun, wiped away the sweat
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forming on his upper lip, and positioned his feet exactly
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eighteen inches apart. He took a couple of short practice
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swings, letting the weight of the club act as a pendulum
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dangling from his hands. Then he suddenly swung high, over, and
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cracked the golfball for a long, straight shot.
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Michael Hahn shielded his eyes with his hand and followed
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the ball. "Hey! I think you got a hole in one!"
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The two astonished men stood there for a moment, and then
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moved on.
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* * *
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Joe DeRouen had been floating for what seemed like
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forever, hardly able to see outside the filthy outer glass of
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his transporter vehicle. When the golfball snapped the
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shield, the pressurized cabin exploded air outwards, forcing
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him to somersault, feet over head, and then shoot through the
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breach into the atmosphere. His tattered robes flapped
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wildly, his feet moved back and forth and his mouth made a big
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O as he screamed through the air. Finally, a lower tree limb
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caught his left sandal, and he wound up dangling upside down
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with his hands almost touching the grass.
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"Here! Here!" Michael yelled, running up to the swinging
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man, "Get the flask, Jeff, get the flask!"
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Michael and Jeff pulled Joe out of the tree; he fell to
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the ground sounding a loud thud. Joe snatched the gleaming
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silver flask from Jeff's outstretched hand and greedily drank
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several deep swigs from it, looked straight ahead, and said,
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"Oogle jeltry et?"
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"This will never do," Michael said, scratching his head.
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"Inter treelumf." Joe sighed, drank a little more, and
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then clasped his hand over his mouth. His eyes grew big.
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"Quistergreen." Joe reddened and tried again,
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"Quibblernog." He looked imploringly at Michael and Jeff, put
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one hand over his heart, sputtered "Inveiglebean eron yeeler
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mornit, eter quack!" and passed out cold under the tree.
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Michael snatched the flask from Joe's hand, took several
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long gulps, and handed it over to Jeff. "Where do you think
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this guy is from?"
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"My guess is Finland. I've heard about the technology
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there, but this! This is amazing!"
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Together they knocked a nearly transparent glassed
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object that reflected them back like a fun-house mirror,
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walking around it, kicking, feeling for a hole. Eventually
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the two just stood there, gaping into space.
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Michael waved his head at the unconscious man. "Check
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him for ID?"
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Jeff shrugged, then began rummaging around Joe's lapel
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for a pocket. He pulled the robe closer, pulled out the flap,
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examined the chest, and found no pockets anywhere. "A bum,
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Michael. He's a bum. No ID."
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Michael looked uncomfortable. "Well we can't just leave
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him here, he's obviously lost."
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"Okay. Let's put him on the cart and bring him into the
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club," He needs to be dealt with, one way or another."
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* * *
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Jack McGeehin turned to the customer with a big smile,
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put down a saucer and filled his cup with fragrant, steaming
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coffee. "Anything else, Matt?"
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"No no, siree, this is all I need, all I ever wanted."
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Matthew Arnold drank deeply, then smiled at Jack over the rim
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of the cup.
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Joe pulled up a stool, pointed to the coffee, and sat
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down, a despondant frown on his face. He muttered, "Oogle
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jeltry et?" a couple of times, but seemed to not expect an
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answer. Jeff and Michael stood in the doorway, talking to Del
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Freeman, the owner of the Pro Shop.
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Jeff fidgeted with a tee while Michael spoke. "You know,
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he just sort of dropped in, uninvited. It doesn't make any
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sense to me. Should we call a meeting or something?" Michael
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seemed so annoyed, Jeff was going to say something to him but
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decided to remain quiet for the moment.
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"Have you checked out the latest Finnish technology,"
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began Del, "I mean, they're doing all sorts of things over
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there. Maybe this was a planned unplanned kind of thing."
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Jeff couldn't stop himself from speaking any longer. "I
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disagree. Why would they send him in, speaking a different
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language and all, not fitting in anywhere, lost?"
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"I don't know, really," Del snapped. She too, looked
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annoyed and right before she turned and strode away, said,
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"You figure it out if you want. Me, I'm just fine with this!
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You guys helped dream this up, now GO with it!"
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Jack and Matt laughed loudly for a second or two,
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reminding everyone that this was supposed to be fun, an
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adventure. After all, they'd planned a good part of it, and
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if it were all rehersed they may as well become a bunch of
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wooden actors instead of relaxing together on this island
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fantasy!
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Jeff and Michael looked at each other, shrugged, and
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wandered out.
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* * *
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Joe was *not* a happy camper. This species was
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progressed enough to play in virtual realities, and he'd been
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assured he'd be welcomed as part of *someone's* reality, even
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when the turf was a group idea. He never for ONE MINUTE
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expected to have a language problem, and had paid good money
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to visit this planet. He had no idea how he was going to go
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home, either, because his transporter had a big hole on the
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bottom.
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He was extremely surprised, however, when the virtual
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reality program concluded. When he vanished into air along
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with the fantasy, only Jack and Matt remained, shaking their
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heads and chuckling.
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-end-
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Copyright (c) 1993 Lucia Chambers
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