300 Sips of Liquor
*****
Michael Fulton felt strange as he awakened on the cold, rugged patch of
rocky earth - but not as strange as he did when he looked over the outfit he
wore... the outfit of a Spartan warrior, straight from the costuming department
of the film 300'.
He felt even worse when he saw the other men who had accompanied Daria and her
family on the trip - Mack, Q, even Jake, as well as Derek, and his former
roommate, and that guy Gerald, who was interested in Quinn's friend Fran - also
dressed like Spartans...
... and surrounding them all, were the hordes of the Persian Empire.
Four words came out of his mouth.
"I hated this movie."
A herald stepped forth from the masses.
"Leonidas. My compliments - and congratulations. You surely have turned
calamity to victory. Despite your insufferable arrogance, the God King has come
to admire Spartan valor and fighting skills. You will make a mighty ally."
Michael turned to see that freaky red-haired guy Daria had gone to high school
emerge from the crowd, disfigured and hump-backed, wearing a sad, bejeweled
dunce-cap that he must have felt made him look dashing... as if it could...
"Yield, Leonidas!" the freak of nature cried out, his voice pouring
from his mouth like maggots being poured from a basin. "Use your reason,
think of your men - I beg you!"
The herald turned back to Michael. "Listen to your fellow Greek. He can
attest to the divine one's generosity. Despite your several insults, despite
your horrid blasphemies, the lord of hosts is prepared to forgive all - And
more: to reward your service! You fight for your lands - Keep them! You fight
for Sparta - she will be wealthier and more powerful than ever before. You
fight for your kingship - you will be proclaimed Warlord of all Greece,
answerable only to the one true master of the world.
He paused. "Leonidas. Your victory will be complete - if you but lay down
your arms... and kneel to holy Xerxes."
Michael looked past him, past the massed forces, to the shining pyramid upon
which sat a gilded throne... and upon that throne, sat Bump - Daria's cat.
He couldn't remember what he had just said, but it infuriated the small black
cat; her eyes glowed, and she held her soft, white front paw out as she
bellowed, "SLAUGHTER THEM-!"
Michael's
skin crawled as the multitude of warriors began to slowly shimmy towards him
and the others, hips swaying and thrusting their crotches as a piece of music,
coming out of nowhere, began to play...
"Michael - are you okay?"
Michael opened his eyes, and turned to face Daria, who sat on the edge of the
bed with a worried expression on her face. "Why were you dreaming about
feeding Bump?"
"Hah... I, uh... What?"
Daria reached out to touch his arm. "You were talking in your sleep, about
oysters, and Bump waving her paw..."
"Just - just a bad dream," Michael said, sitting up in bed. "I
barely even remember it.
The petite, auburn-haired young woman gave him a glance that clearly showed she
didn't believe him, and stood up. "Next time, maybe you won't go
drinking with the other boys like that."
Watching Daria leave, Michael shook his head. The guys are right. If I'm
dreaming about her cat - and worrying about getting the furball mad at me -
then I really AM taking this engagement seriously.
As soon as I get back, I'm buying the little beast a salmon of her very own.
He reached for the bottle of water on the table, and drained it down. And
why the hell is it that I keep having dreams where Bump's eyes glow like the
aliens in 'Stargate SG-1'? I'm definitely NOT going to tell Daria about the one
with her and Jane dressed up like Egyptians and not wearing underwear... or how
Bump made her pre-chew her salmon...
Thought of his fiancé in filmy Egyptian outfits filling his head, Michael
tossed the bottle into the trashcan next to the dresser, and curled back up on
the bed.
Minutes later, he was fast asleep.
-END-
17 March 2008