Continuing… (It's Part 6 in the saga, I fucked up. Sorry.)
So, after a few re-fueling and impromptu cigar-purchasing stops in South and Central America, we wheel up to the deserted jetway at LAX.
“Thought we were going to Elmendorf?” I asked.
“This isn’t it?” the pilot replied, feigning worry.
“No.”, I replied, “Looks like California. Fruits and nuts. All around. What’s going on? One minute we’re off to Texas, then Cali, then Texas again, now we end up here at the California airport of the iconic tower.”
“Yeah, it’s confusing enough haulin’ civilians around. But when we get a call from Virginia, we tend to comply without any questions,” the pilot explains.
“Aw, shit!”, I sort of exclaim, “Rack and Ruin called?”
“Yeah”, the pilot replies, “Figures you’d know these guys. They said they were closer to LAX rather than Texas and had us divert here. In fact, you look over there, see that dark blue Chevy? That’s them; and evidently, your ride.”
I tipped the airman from earlier a couple of cigars as he helped me with my gear off the plane and into the trunk of Rack and Ruin’s plain-Jane blue late modeled Chevy. Had to move the Sidewinder Missiles off to one side, though.
“Most honorable Agents Lack and Luin!” I quipped in my faux-racist greeting. “What the hell, guys? I’ve got to get to Japan and get some newly rigidified digits.”
“Let’s see your hand”, Agent Rack asks. “Nasty.”
“Yeah”, I sigh “And with the medicos in South America and their penchant for plaster, I don’t so much have a left hand as more of an ankylosaur tail.”
“Or Thagomizer”, Agent Ruin tittered. “Anyone gives you grief, and one upside the head should set them right. Or dead.”
“You’re a riot, Ruin.” I replied, “But not entirely incorrect.”
We all agreed that I really didn’t need any extra accouterments to make myself look more dangerous. I mean with my severe haircut, stern beard clip, and perpetual ‘Go fuck yourself’ scowl.
“Yeah”, I replied, stroking the aforementioned beard, “I just can’t get that. I’m such a people person.”
After Agents Rack and Ruin finished drying their eyes from laughing what I thought was en extremis, we finally got down to business.
“So, what’s the skinny, guys”, I asked. “New marching orders?”
“No. Not as such”, Agent Ruin said, still sniggering over my ‘people person’ comment.
I see we’re moving. Agent Rack is just driving casually, like Chewbacca when they were waiting to see if the Empire went for that expensive Bothan code.
“Then, what?” I asked, getting a slight bit piqued.
“Well”, Agent Ruin noted, “When you went to South America, you took some of your artillery collection with, correct?”
“You know I did. You even made some snide comments about my personal choice of sidearms and their ‘excessive’ calibers, if memory serves”, I reiterated.
“And if you are proceeding normally, as you always do, they’re all nestled in the trunk of this very car. All cleaned, quiet, unloaded, and smelling sweetly of Hoppe’s Number 9 and WD 40, correct?” Rack inquired.
“Yes?” I cautiously venture.
“Well, ya’ big dummy, do you think they’re going to let you saunter into Tokyo armed like the Third Fleet?” Agent Ruin chuckled.
“Um…well…I do have a Diplomatic Passport.” I ventured.
“That’s not going to work this time.”, Agent Ruin said, shaking his head. “They’re tighter than Dick’s Hatband about sidearms. Want to bring in your Rigby SXS .500 Nitro Express double rifle? Not a problem. Sidearms, especially in your alien hunting calibers, nope.”
Well, that’s just….*dandy!”, I reply, semi-put out. “Now what the hell am I going to do?”
“Ever think that’s why Ruin and I are here, now?”, Rack asks.
“And here I thought it was just so you could bask in the warm glow of my fucking wonderful personality. Or that you actually cared about me as a real goddamn human”, I joshed.
“Ummm…yeah”, Rack replies, “There’s no way we can answer that without going on some Deadpool list. “
I agreed.
“OK, here’s the deal: you get your sidearms, ammunition, speed loaders, brass knuckles, Asp, laser range finders, Sap, Zeiss scopes, Kukri, Wisconsin Cheese Whittler, Buck folding skinner, Marine K-Bar, those two ultra-illegal Cheburkov Cobra titanium switchblades...”
“Three. Olga the KGB lady sent me one for Geologist’s Day.”
“Ahem. Those three ultra-illegal Cheburkov switchblades, that Wyoming Speedholer, your MASER Time-Distance Computer, garrote, pocket rail gun and whatever else lethal you carry and deposit it in the iron box in the trunk. We’ll ensure that it’s delivered to Esme post-haste. And by post-haste I mean one of our guys will deliver it personally.”
“Well…I suppose”, I conceded, “But best send someone who’s been to the house recently. I don’t know how much bigger Khan has grown since I left on this little fantasy trip. Wouldn’t want a star on the wall in Langley for someone eaten by a mastiff. Want to see a picture….Oh, bother. That’s right. My phone’s at the bottom of fucking Lake Maracaibo.”
“Good point”, Ruin interjects, “Guess we’ll do a little road trip and deliver it ourselves. Best call Esme and let her know what’s going on.”
“I have no objections to your proposals. Please give Esme this when you see her. I had some luck in the Calaveras Casino and if I don’t send her some mad money. Ouch. She’ll never forgive me for not taking her along to Japan.” I asked.
“But I thought Esme hated Japan? Too crowded and too ‘fussy’, I believe was her estimation.” Ruin asked.
“Yes, but once she saw the Ginza, all bets were off. Shopping the likes of which even Allah himself hasn’t seen.” I replied, slowly shaking my head.
“I see”, Ruin said, “Well, since you’re off to Sapporo, perhaps you can do a recon for Esme on the shopping there.”
“Not bad. Not bad at all.”, I smiled, “Now I know why I let you guys hang around with me.”
So, as advertised, I am now standing on the tarmac at LAX, basically feeling naked.
“Can’t I keep just one switchblade?” I moaned to Agent Rack.
“Go ahead, if you’re really keen on donating it to Japanese customs”, he replied.
“Fuckbuckets.” I groused.
“There, there now. That’s the usual Dr. Rocknocker of which we’re all so fond.” Agent Ruin chuckled.
“Remember, you do have that wallet-sized credit card gizmo from the Company. So you’re not entirely ‘naked’. Think of it as an emergency breechcloth.” He smiled.
“I’d like a larger model if you don’t mind. It’s chilly out here.” I joshed.
After Agents Rack and Ruin stripped me metaphorically naked as they de-weaponized me, they handed me a Business Class ticket to Tokyo, and a pass to the Japan Airlines Hospitality Suite and Lounge.
“So sorry you guys can’t hang around and have a few farewell snorts”, I chided, “But you’ve got a bit of a drive, so best be off before the weather turns to shit.”
“Who says we’re driving?” Agent Rack asked as he hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the ready and waiting C-130 cargo plane currently taxiing slowly in our direction.
“Well, in that case”, I smiled even more broadly, “Let’s invite the flight crew to join us. That’ll make the flight home all that much more interesting.”
After near tear-jerking farewell sentimentalities, i.e., “Piss on you”, “Get stuffed” and “Take a fuckin’ hike”; Agents Rack and Ruin, my weapons and the Agency’s plain-Jane Blue Chevy were all nestled snugger than buggers in ruggers in the belly of the thundering C-130.
Now truly on my own, I trudge the hundred thousand or so centisteps to my departure terminal, make a quick recon that my flight’s still slated to go in a generally westward direction, and hightail it to the nearest courtesy desk to ask for a motorized cart to take me and my remaining luggage to the JAL Hospitality Suite.
Hey. I’m old, infirm, and currently among the walking wounded.
Anyone that disagrees risks an Ankylosaur tail club swat or Thagomizer to the skull.
Finally ensconced in the JAL Hospitality Suite, Polo Lounge of course; I was drinking Tokyo Teas (3 oz. vodka, 2 oz. gin, 2 oz. rum, 1 oz. triple sec, 1 oz. Midori, good splash of lime juice, a slight splash of 7-Up (diet, of course), over ice with a lime wheel) with Pabst Blue Ribbon Extra 1844 chasers and Hangar One’s “Fog Point” vodka on the side, hiding from the brutish realities of this foul year of two thousand and twenty-something, Common Era…
I’ve already called Esme and we’ve had a good, long chat. She still managed to give me her shopping list for whenever I find myself bored on the Ginza.
She’ll be shocked when she learns that I’m not going to be in Tokyo long, but have 1st class tickets on the Bullet Train to Sapporo. Still, I’ll probably find myself in Pole Town or the Stellar Place there, trading piles of US greenbacks for locally produced Japanese curios and clothing.
I can hardly wait.
I order another round of drinks, as the wonderful attendants in the Hospitality Suite were bored out of their skulls because of the COVID-induced drop-in customers flying anywhere that requires a hospitality room stay, and I was virtually the only one around. They tried their level best to outdo each other when it comes to Japanese efficiency and friendliness.
After a couple of hours, they ask if I would like something from the grill, as the day chef had “the COVID” and the night chef just arrived. A quick perusal of the menu and I chose a 28-ounce dry-aged Porterhouse and another round of drinks.
I usually don’t like to eat too much before I fly, but JAL tells me the flight is going to be virtually empty, something like <121 pax, all told, so restroom availability shouldn’t be too much of a concern.
Plus, who am I to say no to a free, blue 28-ounce dry-aged Porterhouse?
There was a bit of difficulty conveying to the chef through the intermediaries of the hospitality just how I wanted my steak.
“Blue,” I said.
“Brue?” was the reply.
“Rare. Very, very rare.” I continued.
Look of total bewilderment.
I drag out my Personal Language Pro, speak “Steak, very, very rate” into the infernal gizmo, and hand the contraption to the attendant.
“珍しい、非常に珍しいステーキ?”[ Mezurashī, hijō ni mezurashī sutēki?]
“Raw! Nama!” I say, louder than need be.
They toddle off to find the chef.
“How is it sir, that you would like your steak cooked?” he asks.
“Very rare. Just a minute or two per side. Inside still cold.” I instructed.
All I got for the trouble was a puzzled smile.
“Give me the language gizmo…” I type in a few words…
“お尻を洗い、角をノックオフして、ここから出してください”
[O shiri o arai,-kaku o nokkuofu shite, koko kara dashite kudasai.]
“Wash its ass, knock its horns off, and walk it out here.”
“OH!” as the lightbulb pops. “Rare. Got it! Excellent!” the chef laughs and zips back to the kitchen.
Like I always say, I’m nothing if not the international ambassador of amity and goodwill.
“Crack tubes!”
Dinner was fantastic. I do wish I could have somehow mailed the Porterhouse bone back home for Khan. After that hambone incident, he might even taste it.
Finally on the plane, in an almost empty Business Class, the flight captain informs us that we’re headed to Haneda Airport Tokyo and anyone not headed in that direction better ‘haul ass off’ the flight or forever hold their peace.
Late-night international flights tend to be a bit more wooly than your average Chicago to Omaha gig.
Especially when the flight’s damn near empty and we have the next 12 hours or so to be best friends.
We taxi, turn and head into the wind. I’m doctoring up a couple of dossiers and keeping my personal cabin attendant, Luna since there were two of us in Business and two business flight attendants, busy with her trying to play ‘Stump the Geologist’.
“I’ll bet you never had this before.” She beamed and handed me a tumbler of very dangerous-looking brown liquor.
I cautiously sniff, take a modest gulp, swirl and glug the rest down.
“Ohishi Single Sherry Cask”, I say with a muffled belch. “Light. Fruity. An Englishman’s drink.”
“Oh. You knew. Let me try again.” She smiles beatifically.
“I have no objections to your proposal.” I smile as nicely as this crotchety old Komodo Dragon could.
She returns with another flagon of spirits; it smells of obsidian, leather, and earth.
I just had some of this back in LAX. I take a snort, smile, and shotgun the rest.
“Hibiki Japanese Harmony…lovely stuff.” I smile. “A little light for my jaded palate, but I’d never turn it down if it were free.”
“Oh, you win again. Wait. One more.” She smiles and skitters off to the galley.
She returns with another soupçon of some more dangerous brown liquor.
“Here, try this. It will make you very popular at social gatherings”. She smiles.
Sniff. “Splendid.” Snort. Swirl. Smile. Shotgun.
“Kanosuke New Born, if I’m not mistaken.” I smile back. “Very nice. I really do like this one.”
“You too good at this. One more!” she stands and stomps off defiantly. She returns in a trice and hands me the glass.
“Hmm…brown. Light notes of earth, leather, dating your daughter, and Kentucky…
“Beam Suntory, right?”
“You know them all!” she says, feigning irritation.
“And I thank you. Those were all excellent. Now, anything in the dangerous clear liquor category? I asked.
Luna smiled as I palmed off a 20k yen tip.
“Oh, no sir. Wait until we land.” She demurred, referring to the gratuity; which is know is not de rigueur in the Orient, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“Just in case we never make it to Tokyo”, I laughed, unknowingly presciently.
We both chuckled about that last line as she tried out various sakes and shōchūs and an actual Japanese ‘White Liquor’ (ホワイトリカー), which were all excellent as was the company.
I tell her that I need to get some work done and could she bring me a tall Rocknocker. After explain the origins and construction of the eponymous drink, she brings me one that must tip the scales at 1 or so liters.
She settles down to an empty seat and I get after the work that I need to finish before we land. I’m about ½ way through my drink when it felt as if the plane hit a brick wall. She quivered and quaked and clutched at herself while I made some comments about the pilot’s mental health.
We dropped like a paralyzed falcon, then just as suddenly, felt like it was an express elevator to Angel’s 11. The plane bucked and shimmied, wickedly. Then we slam-danced right and fell a few more stories. It was like we were in a Mixmaster and the owner was trying out every speed.
The emergency lights in the 777-300ER popped on, and the fasten seat belt sign barked loudly so even sleeping travelers could enjoy the show.
Rinse. Spin. Shudder. Repeat.
Finally, the ride smooths out and we hear the captain on the blower.
“This is your captain speaking…ah, we seem to have hit some uncharted turbulence back there.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious”, I muttered.
“Everything’s A-OK. “ he reports.
“That’s good”, I note.
“But…”
“There’s always the but…” I groan.
“…we have a couple of warning lights for which we can’t quite account. So to just be safe and certain, we’re going to divert to Hawaii, get a clean bill of health and resume this flight once we make sure everything here is hunky-dory.”
There were scattered groans and applause. Add them together and divide by two and the average response on the flight was “Meh. Whatever.”
Except for the other guy in Business, with whom I hadn’t shared two words. He began to absolutely lose his shit.
“Oh, man! We’re so screwed! Mechanical malfunction? What does that mean?” he positively fizzed with fear.
The flight attendants tried to calm him down, to no avail. They basically gave up and said they’d report his misgivings to the Captain.
I motioned over to my personal flight attendant, Luna, and asked if I could be of service.
“Oh, Doctor Rock”, she smiled at me, “If you could speak with him. You are so calm, and he is…”
“Losing his bloody mind”, I chuckled as I finished her sentence for her. “Of course, I’ll take a stab at it.”
So, I grab my drink and ease over to my Business Class partner and introduce myself.
“Hey, pal. How’s it going? I’m Dr. Rock, gentleman, scholar, and connoisseur of cigars and things alcoholic. You doing OK?”
He looks at me with an ashen face and his eyes the size of bloodshot dinner plates.
“Yeah. I’m Todd Schotts. I’m flying to Japan for business.” He mumbles
“No surprise there,” I reply calmly and take a slug of my drink.
“But now we’re all going to die. The plane is busted and we’ll crash…” he started off again.
“So, Todd is it? Good. You drink?” I asked.
“Yeah?”, he stammered back.
I asked Luna to make us a fresh batch of my eponymous cocktails.
“OK, Todd, listen up”, I began after the drinks were served, “I have flown literally millions of miles over the last 4 decades. On Aeroflot when it was still the USSR. On TACA (Take A Chance Airways), on Chalk’s in the Caribbean, on Bob’s Verrifast Plane Company in Rhodesia, on regional carriers that don’t even exist anymore. All over the world. Had some bad experiences flying, and me ol’ mugger, this ain’t one of them. This is nothing more than the glitch for this mission.”
I chuckled lightly and complimented Luna on a fantastic drink.
“Yeah…yeah…yeah…but we have to land and check out some lights…” Todd squealed.
“Well now, Todd. It would be rather difficult to do any external assessment while in flight, don’t you agree?” I asked.
“But we’re diverting. We have to land and that adds more risk. We’re going to crash and die!” he was coming more and more unglued.
“I will bet you every cent you have on your person and home bank accounts that that will not happen”, I chuckled.
That took him by surprise. At least it shut him up for a while.
“Look, Todd. This is Boeing’s latest model. They have the most incredible safety record. And if a little clear air turbulence were to be knocking planes out of the sky, don’t you think we’d hear about it as the press went berserk?” I asked.
“But they don’t know what the lights mean! What if one of the engines’s out? How far can we fly on one engine?” Todd stuttered.
Having my fill of a supposedly grown man with inane childlike fears, I calmly replied,
“All the way to the crash site.”
He went white.
“...hope we hit something hard. I don’t want to limp away from this.”
He went limp.
Then I went to my seat and motioned for Luna to prepare a reload.
Of course, 45 minutes later, we land without incident at Daniel K. Inouye International Airport, Honolulu Hawaii.
We were told to just wait around until they figure out what the problem if any, was.
They had officials waiting at the end of the jetway to check our COVID status and passports before they let us loose in the terminal.
I asked Luna if she knew this airport. She noted that she did.
“Is there a JAL hospitality room here at this airport? I asked.
“Yes, Doctor. It’s the Sakura Lounge. It is located on the third level above The Local, Terminal 2.” She replied.
“Please notify whoever needs to know that that’s where I’ll be for the duration”, I smiled and handed her my business card. “See you soon, I hope.”
“Oh, Dr. Rock”, she replied, “I am sure it is nothing much. We’ll be back in the air within mere hours.”
“Well then”, I smiled, “Guess I’d better get ready to hoof it to the lounge.”
“Oh, Doctor Rock”, she smiled, “No rush. I will call for you a courtesy cart. You are injured, you are Business, you are priority.”
“I love that Asian efficiency.” I smiled back and toddled down the jetway.
At the terminus of the jetway, I show my COVID-clear papers, dates and times of my Anti-Virus vaccine administrations, the letter from Virginia clearing me of all detention, and my red Russian diplomatic passport.
While in the cart, whizzing our way to the JAL lounge, the driver said “Man! You must be some kind of VIP. You were through that welcoming committee in less than two minutes!”
“Me? Nah!”, I chuckled, “Just an old phart of a geologist that they didn’t want to mess with. Not on such a bright, sunny day as this.”
“I see you’re not wearing a mask.” The driver quipped.
“Very observant. There are reasons for that.” I replied.
He careens around a corner and if this were a normal pre-Covid day, I’m certain we’d have killed hundreds. However, the airport, as I’ve come to grow accustomed to, was virtually deserted.
“Yeah? Like what?” he asks.
“Well, Scooter, 1. I have an active and hardworking immune system that I let off the chain every once in a while for exercise. Got to let it know what it’s up against, right? 2. I’ve had all my shots and some that were experimental. They seem to have worked. And 3. I find it difficult to drink and smoke cigars while wearing a mask. However, if you’d prefer, I will mask up. No problem, though it still is optional.”
“Nah, man”, he said, “I was just wondering if you were one of those religious idiots or conspiracy nuts.”
Nope”, I smiled back, “Just another geologist out in the world plying his trade for cash. Y’know, whorin’ around for money.”
He laughs aloud as we skid to a stop right in front of Lounge.
I slip the guy a $20 and ask if he’d listen for the JAL flight I was just on. If we’re going on ahead today, I’d need him to scoot by and putt-putt me back to the plane.
He laughs and pockets the $20 as quick as a mink ruts.
“No worries. I’ll just hang around this area. I hear anything about the flight, I’ll come and let you know.” He grins.
“Good man”, I say, as I hand him my card. “I’m Dr. Rocknocker. Call me Rock”.
“And I’m Kapula Mano, call me Kap” he replies.
“Good man”, I say again, “Hope to see you in a while.”
He grins, floors his electric cart, and peels out at speeds approaching 4.5 MPH.
I wander into the lounge, show my credentials, and am escorted to a post up on Mahogany Ridge.
The bar is very quiet. Besides the bartender, I can’t see anyone else in the darkened and Smooth Jazz-infused drinking emporium.
I order a local drink, a Mai Tai, just for the experience and something a bit different.
It’s served in a goldfish bowl on a stem, bedecked with a slice of lime, a sprig of mint, a stick of sugar cane, a polychromatic orchid, and the obligate paper umbrella.
“Ah. Mai Tai. I will enjoy it.” I said to no one in particular.
One was enough, and I decided to go back to the old standard. Once I explained to the bartender what that was, he made them heroic and enthusiastically.
I’m reading up on a random dossier, making notes in a new file, and puffing away on a Fuentes Onyx double Maduro Churchill cigar.
I hear a slight cough coming from my right, and this here lovely lady, she sat to my immediate starboard and looked at me semi-quizzically.
Not in the mood for shenanigans of any stripe, I give her the obligate Baja Canada nod and tilt of the drink. I return to my dossiers and continue to read and take notes.
“Excuse me!” I hear.
Fearing the worst, either the woman is Karen-oid anti-smoking or a religious fruit-and-nutburger, I slowly turn to face her and reply, somewhat glacially, I have to admit.
“What?”
“That cigar…”
“Here we go…” I mutter, eyes rolling northward.
“Smells exquisite. Could you tell me the brand? My husband would enjoy some like that.” She notes.
Instantly my demeanor switches 180^0.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s an Arturo Fuentes Onyx. Churchill size, or 60 ring x 7” length, double Maduro. Here, take one for your husband. I have an ample supply.” I smile.
“Oh, no. I couldn’t. Could I?” she asks.
“Please. I insist.” I smile the best I could given the circumstances.
“Thank you. You’re too kind…umm…Mr….?”
“Doctor. Doctor Rocknocker. World traveler, oilman, and international ambassador of amity, good drinks, and fine cigars. Call me Rock” I said.
“Oh! A Doctor?” she brightens.
“Yes, of Petroleum Geology and Engineering. Not medicine.” I chuckle.
She chuckles back.
“And I am Hella Aaberg”, as she offers her hand for a quick shake.
“Interesting name, Hella. Scandinavian or Old German heritage?” I ask.
“On my father’s side. He’s Finnish.” She replies.
“But I’ll wager your mother is not Scandinavian, correct?” I ask.
“She was from Truk, an island…”
“In the South Pacific, Micronesia. Was she from Weno city?” I asked.
“Why yes. How could you possibly know that?” she asked.
“Oh, I’ve been there. Great diving amongst the WWII wrecks. I think it’s actually called ‘Chuuk Lagoon’ or something like that now.” I said.
“That’s right! Amazing. Where else have you been?” she asked.
“Anywhere there’s oil, strife, booze, cigars, heavy explosives and typically long distances from whatever most normal people call civilization,” I replied with a chuckle.
Suddenly, I hear a voice booming out behind me.
“Why don’t you save that rapier-like wit for those musky-fuckers back home, Rocko?”
My expression changes. My eyes pop fully wide open.
“Hella?” I asked.
“Yes?”
“May I ask you a favor?”
“You can ask…”
“Thank you. Now, looking over my shoulder, is there a hulking goon of a person, thin up top, paunchy halfway down with the most ridiculously tiny sized shoes you’ve ever seen for a so-called grown man?” I ask.
“Yes. Yes, there is.” She replies.
“I thought so. Many thanks.”
I spin and launch off my barstool and grab Toivo by the hand. He hadn’t seen my left-hand Thagomizer yet.
“Toivo! You old sumbitch. What the flying fennec fox fuck are you, of all people, doing in Hawaii?” I laughed.
“Just keeping an eye on you, Rock!” he laughed equally as loud.
“No, fucking-A, seriously. What the actual fuck? What are you doing in this actual nice place?” I asked.
“Just headed to Tokyo to conduct a bit of service company business. I walked into the lounge and smelled a foul cigar. I figured it can’t be the venerable Dr. Rocknocker. He’s back at some school up north terrorizing geology and engineering grads and undergrads.” Toivo laughed.
“But there I was. Surprise!”, I laughed and pumped his hand.
“What the fuck, Rock. Now what did you do?” he asks, referring to my Ankylosaur tail club left hand.
“Ah, fuck. Long story. Oh, pardon me. Toivo, this is Hella. We were just talking about the South Seas Islands.” I said.
“Planning on running off together?” Toivo laughs, to the amusement of neither party.
“Oh, and this idiot is Toivo, a man with a congenital foot-in-mouth disorder. He’s mostly harmless.” I noted to Hella.
Greetings were shared all around. Hella made some small excuses and said she needed to depart. I gave her another cigar for her husband, shook her hand, and wished her well.
“Here’s my business card. If your husband has any questions, have him drop me a line.” I noted.
Hella smiled beautifully. She said she would. Then she thanked me shook our hands, and like that, there she was, gone.
“Well Toivo, you old bastard. Don't just stand there in the doorway like some lonesome goddamn mouse shit sheepherder, get your ass over here and have a drink.” I motioned over to my perch on Mahogany Ridge.
“Don’t mind if I do”, he says as he deftly winds his way to a seat to my left, snagging a cigar out of my pocket on the way over.
“You might want these”, I say in an exasperated tone, and hand him my gold Dunhill Hobnail lighter and V-cutter gizmo.
He cuts and fires up his heater.
“What you drinkin’, Rock”, he asks.
“Anything with alcohol, as usual. You know that Toiv.” I reply.
“No. I mean right now.” He clarifies.
“Well, I had a Mai Tai. Very nice if you like fruity, flowery drinks. It’s the locals’ favorite.” I reply.
“Sounds good. I’ll have several. And you?” Toivo asks.
“My usual. The bartender is already apprised of the situation.” I reply.
Toivo smiles the smile of one knowing his sobriety is going to be taken out for a swim. Hell, taken out and tossed into the deep end.
Toivo and I sit there, swapping lies, smoking cigars and sipping at our toddies.
Hell, Toivo was slurping them like a sump-pump during an extra-wet summer.
We chattered about family, work, whether or not Tokyo was going to host the Olympics or if the COVID-boogie man scared everyone off.
Toivo, always one afflicted with TB (“Tiny Bladder”) got up to go to the loo for the third time that hour. He left his pocket organizer on the bar and I swear on a stack of Origins of Species, I didn’t touch it.
I reached over to his vacated seat to retrieve my cigar lighter when I looked down and saw in his organizer a tab that reads “Rack & Ruin”.
“Oh. No. Fucking. Way.” I recoiled as I’d just reached out and petted a 6-foot hungover scorpion.
“One of my best friends? Secretly allied with the Agency? No. Not possible.” I drained my drink and called for another.
“No. No. No. It can’t be. No. No fucking way…” as doubt began to dissolve when I thought back to all those times I had just ‘run into’ Toivo.
“But he’s oil patch as well. That could be chalked up to coincidence.” I ruminated quizzically in my brain.
I quickly reflected back on J.M. Darhower: “Yes, you see, there’s no such thing as coincidence. There are no accidents in life. Everything that happens is the result of a calculated move that leads us to where we are.”
She may be the author of the execrable New Adult Sempre series, which Esme likes and I loathe, but she might just be right on this occasion.
Toivo return, lighter in the bladder and good sense. He never even noticed he’d left his organizer out in broad bar light for all to see.
“So, Toivo, when’s your flight?” I ask.
“Oh, man. Was I lucky. The JAL flight to Tokyo from Los Angeles had mechanical trouble and had to divert here. I got a ticket on the plane for that flight, when it continues.
“You mean ‘if it continues’,” I replied.
“Yeah. Yeah. That’s what I meant. Hey! Was that your flight?” he asks innocently. He’s really innocent of fieldcraft.
I decide to have some fun at my old friend’s expense.
“Yep. Hit some CAT (Clear Air Turbulence) and the JAL pilots reported some lighting problem. No apparent ruin to any of the systems. They relay racked their brains to figure it out, but they couldn’t that’s why I here.” I said, waiting for the words to swim upstream in Toivo’s coconut and make some sort of connection.
“Yeah. Double lucky. No problem with the plane and I get to go to Japan early.” Toivo crookedly grins.
“So, no trouble with the plane? Then why haven’t I heard that the flight’s going to resume?” I asked as I pushed a fresh, seriously strong drink to Toivo.
“Oh, must have heard it in the john.” Toivo countered and tried to cover his tracks by taking a huge gulp of his drink and damn near dying coughing.
I pound on Toivo’s back.
“Heimlich time?” I ask.
Toivo signals ‘no’.
“Jesus Christ, Rock. What was that?” he asks.
“Just my usual”, I innocently replied.
“Holy fuck. No wonder you have the reputation of…” Toivo realizes too late that he’s said too much.
“Yeah. They can rack you out. Really ruin a person if they’re not careful.” I reply icily.
“Why, Rock. Whatever do you mean?” Toivo slurred as he realized he’s been caught out.
“The jig is up, you turncoat. You know Agents Rack and Ruin from the agency. Right? You keeping tabs on me for them? You Quisling! You Benedict Arnold!” I almost was on the verge of losing my cool.
“It was nothing. They approached me years ago as I kept being mentioned in your reports. They asked me for some information. One thing leads to another…” Toivo was ready for an Ankylosaur tail club swat to the bean.
“Oh, put your fucking hands down, you asshole.” I smiled and chuckled.
“You’re not mad?” Toivo slurred badly. I had the bartender make him another special drink.
“No, Toivo. Not mad. Just disappointed.” I said, smiling like a Komodo Dragon just finishing up a fortnight-old wildebeest.
Toivo sat there and puzzled and puzzled until his puzzler was sore.
“You’re not going to kill me or anything rude like that?” Toivo asked, half-assedly trying to inject humor into the proceedings.
“Nah. The paperwork’s too ridiculous for me to do another liberation. But, Jesus Fucking Christwagons, Toivo; you could have mentioned it to me. Fuck, I thought we were friends to the end?” I said, dejectedly.
I was really getting through to Toivo. I could tell he was loaded; feeling like shit and massively deplorable.
Great fieldcraft, indeed.
I told him things “are what they are” and that I won’t blow his cover nor his honorarium.
He began to feel better. I often wonder if he was serious about the sanctioning thing.
Then I delivered the strategic missile strike.
“Just remember, Toivo. I wrote your dossier for the Company…”
He swivels to look at me.
“And one for the KGB. Olga says ‘howdy’.” I grin evilly.
Toivo short-circuited at that. Russia is his company’s bread and butter. Now he has the KGB as well as his best buddy looking over his shoulder at every move.
I bought him a few more drinks and continued to needle him about his ’leading a double life’. He was well and truly fuckered when the electric tap-tap driver from before came looking for me to whisk me back to the plane.
Seems it was simply some knocked-out wires on the plane, or slammed bulbs that were generating a false positive, indicating something other than the system that alerts one to something haywire went haywire.
Toivo was pretty much down for the count. I got him sober enough to hand them his ticket and ensure that he was really supposed to be on this flight. Thing was; h e was in Economy, and I was, as always, in Business.
I spoke to Luna, and the plane was going to be even less crowded than previously because some folks could or wouldn’t wait, or didn’t want to go on with the rest of the trip on a ‘damaged’ aircraft, or were just stupid and superstitious.
“Luna, could I pay for the difference between Business and Economy for my less than 100% conscious friend here? He’s had a rough day.” I asked.
“Dr. Rock. Just put him into Business. No one will be the wiser. Luna says so.” As she gave us a grand smile.
“Luna, I owe you. Thanks so much.” I said.
“Now get on board. Your friend looks like he needs all the downtime he can get.”
“Yes, ma’am!” I said and saluted here be best I could which dragging a schnozzled Toivo down the jetway.
I dumped Toivo in a window seat well away from my seat. I know Toivo. He snores like a semi-load of live hogs rocketing downhill locking up the brakes at 88 MPH.
Surprise! There was no one else in Business. Luna looked at me, at Toivo, and gave me a thumbs up.
Whatever I can write to further her career at JAL, she’ll have it before I deplane.
We finally get everyone settled, and with Captain Kangaroo at the helm, we bounced gracelessly off the tarmac, into the warm, tropical Hawaiian air, finally headed for the Land of the Rising Sun.
Toivo was snoring like a chainsaw hitting rusty nails as I worked on the various letters, communiques, and dossiers which needed updating before we reached touchdown. I gave Luna a thick letter with instructions not to open it until we were on the ground and Toivo and I were well off and away into the terminal.
We left Hawaii at 1300 hours, so we should arrive at Tokyo Nareda around 4:00 pm, the previous day. I was so bereft of time and time zones, I couldn’t figure out what time it really was, as judged by my biometric rhythms, so I asked Luna for a stiff drink as I was kicking off my boots and going to attempt to get some kip.
She brought me another liter or so eponymous drink. I was sawing logs by the time I slurped the last swig of that nifty drink.
Suddenly, or later, I have no idea really, some loudmouth drunk asshole from way-the-fuck-back in economy-land toward the ass end of the plane staggered into Business demanding free drinks.
Luna was nothing but civil, and asked him to both shut up and return to his seat. His air cabin hostess, or whatever the fuck they’re calling them these days, will attend to his needs.
“Naw they won’t! They want me to pay for more drinks! I’m broke but I demand more booze! You fucking owe me.” railed the asshole. “I sat at the bar in Hawaii for four hours. Them fuckers charged me an arm and a leg!”
“No, they don’t owe you shit”, I said in a voice that unmistakably loud and clear.
“Fuck you, old man! You stay the fuck out of this!” he bellowed. “Shut up or I’ll do ya’!”
“’Old man’? ‘Do me’? Excuse me. Luna, may I have a word alone with this individual?” I asked sweetly.
Luna shook her head in the affirmative, and I stood up to confront this flagrant asshole.
“Now look, Scooter. You have gone way, way over the fucking line. You are loud. You are abusive. You are obnoxious. And you stink. Plus you insulted a person who is just barely containing his righteous wrath right now. So, I’m giving you one and one only chance to shut up, sit back down before your body spontaneously develops all sort of bruises, contusions, broken bones, and unconsciousness.” I said calmly, evenly, and threateningly.
“What da’ fuck you think you’re going to do…old man?” he screeched, trying to inflate himself into full mammalian threat posture, all 5’ 9” of it.
He didn’t notice Toivo walking up quietly behind him, as Toivo was returning from the head, quiet as a moose.
“Well, Scooter, I am an Air Marshall. Duly appointed, fully trained, and properly pissed off. Right now, I can arrest you, physically detain you, turn this flight around and take you to the Hawaiian police, at your cost for the inconvenience of the entire flight. Or I could arrest you, physically detain you, and turn you over to the Japanese authorities when we land. It’s really your choice. Choose wisely.”
To be continued…⇝

Stories from 12 years of Casino Industry

I was asked to make a post about some stories within the Casino grounds so I thought I'd share. I have many so I'll do my best to pick the better ones.
Some back information: I've been a Casino Dealer for 11 years, I've been a supervisor for five years, and I've been a Surveillance Operator for one year. I've worked at three properties, none of which are connected or owned by the same company. I've worked on : Government/Private/Native American owned casinos.

From Hero to Zero.

At my first Casino, I was one of the first group of people who were trained to deal Roulette . After 4 weeks of working 6PM-3AM then doing roulette training from 3AM-8AM (Not paid) , I actually really enjoyed the game and after about six months I became extremely quick at the number game and the pace of the action was steady with very low margin of errors. Young man walks in, cashes in for $500. He buys in for $2 chips and just loads the board. After a few spins and pretty decent hits, he then changes his chips from $2 to 5$ then to $10 and racks his winnings up to $10,000. It was then, five spins in a row, he loaded the board with some pretty gross bets, and every spin I would hit the ONE number with either NO CHIPS on it, or maybe 1 chip , He lost all $10,000 in a matter of minutes. He leaves , and I go on break. After my break I was going back to the same table and wouldn't you know it, the same young man walks in and cashes in another $500. He tells me he just sold his car outside and this is all that he had left. So we do the same deal, buys in for $2 chips, then slowly starts betting $5 chips, $10, $25...and he makes $10,000 AGAIN. Within the next 25 minutes it was straight agony. Every spin, same thing, he would bet $2500 in chips, and win only $250, $400, and after about a half hour he lost it all . Never saw the guy again.
2) Man down
At this property, we are 24 hours for table games. It's currently 5AM , and I'm dealing some $25 Blackjack to this guy. He's probably early thirties , heavy guy. He's sober as can be, but right away I can tell he's been losing. We know how much you've bought in for, how much your down, or up, and I could see he was down $2000+. After about twenty minutes of pure losing, his temper starts to flare.At this point I now have two other guests at my table. Drinking coffee, not saying a word, just losing their money. After losing hand, after hand, this guy looks me straight in the eye, seized up, starts shaking, he can't move. He tries to punch towards me and smashes his stack of chips all over the place and falls backwards to the floor. I call for security, we cannot touch him due to liability . I can't move from my table because, well, liability / casino cash property, all I can do is try to talk to him. As I'm doing so, these other two woman who are sitting at my table just look at me and one says "OK, dealer, cmon lets go " as she taps the table telling me to start dealing and forget about the guy having a stroke on the floor. As security takes him to the ambulance out front, I had to stay behind for a couple minutes and give a statement. I go on break. I come back, and 45 minutes later, he comes right back in with a oxygen tank and keeps gambling for the remainder of the morning.
3) You get a dildo, and YOU get a dildo!
On a late summer Saturday night, we had a large event for these massive muscle guys/strongman competition type thing. After their show, I'm at the roulette table , and five of these boys come over to play. They were absolutely hilarious. They were feeling pretty good, cashed in somewhat large amounts and I could tell this was going to be a fun time. After about a hour of dealing to these guys, it's almost midnight, everybody is pretty hammered , I spin the ball, and all five of these guys take out these god damn (what I can only tell was) two feet purple dildos from inside their pants, and wiping them around in the air. The ladies were just loving it, one of the dildos landed in the roulette wheel and we had to shut the table down to re-calibrate the wheel to make sure nothing had been changed. I just remember that night was so much damn fun, I couldn't believe what I was seeing and I would never forget it.
4) Full Moon
On this day, I was actually training dealers / supervising them on small games like Three Card poker. We opened the table at 10AM, and this older man came and sat down . He played all day. The jackpot was $21,000 and that was pretty high for this table. He played, and played and played. He's one of the players where you know he's wearing a diaper because he's been drinking coffee/pop all day and hasn't moved in eight hours. As the day went on, this man never moved from his chair. Getting closer to midnight, he was aggravated and said "I need to go have a smoke, I'm getting killed in here". He left, and the very next hand, the lady beside him was dealt the jackpot . He didn't say much, but you could just tell he just hated life at that very moment because had he not gotten up, it would of been his hand. The man calmly took his cane , his hat, jacket, coffee, and left. The next morning I found out when he did leave he drove his car straight through his bank and was arrested.
5) Slick Robber
I actually give props to people who can actually pull this off. This story may confuse you so I'll try and explain things as best as possible. A lot of casinos have machines as soon as you walk through the front doors. A man walks up to one of these machines and sticks in HIS $100 bill. He doesn't gamble it, instead he hits the cash out button and gets a $100 TITO ticket where he then takes the ticket to the ATM machine to get his $100. Now remember, his Original $100 is in the slot machine. He then takes the $100 from the ATM and goes back to the same machine, and repeats this process over a hundred times. Essentially he's taking money from the ATM, and loading up the Slot Machine . Now he knows he can't do it too much because if the slot machine gets full of money, the machine will shut down and the slow attendant will have to take all the cash out. So he deposits over $10,000 , then has a small crowbar, he cracks the machine open and makes a run out the front door. To my knowledge he was never caught . But damn, that was pretty smart .
EDIT:
6) Mental Health is a thing.
10PM man walks in to play some high limit BlackJack. This guy knows the game and played well. Dressed nice, drank juice/tea , a little bit of a attitude, cashed in over $10,000. When this man was half way down his buy in, he said something a long the lines of "If I don't win here tonight, I'm going to go set myself on fire." I wasn't sure if he was serious because when people are down, they tend to say a lot of nonsense. I actually left early that night, and from a third party was told he did exactly that in the parking lot. The next day it was clear something terrible had gone wrong in the parking lot .
EDIT:
7) Nothing good happens after midnight
After a busy Saturday night, I was dealing a mix of games, and during this story I was in the middle of Blackjack. I had one young kid (probably 19) sitting in the middle, one older male probably in his later 40's sitting beside him on his right, and I had a really nice couple in their 20's sitting together at the other side. This young kid wasn't playing just sort of watching, and ever time the old man won he would give this young guy some of his winnings. The older man, was a wine drinker, and he had black between all of his teeth, I'll never forget. He's a little drunk but nothing terrible. As the night goes on, the older man goes and uses the washroom, at which point the couple asked the young guy "Oh was that your dad?" and the young guy says "Hah, no I wish!". The couple and I just looked at each other. This old guy, was in complete control over this kid. Absolutely disgusting. The night ends, and I find out the couple called a few of their friends, and they all waited outside by this old mans truck and beat the living hell out of him. 40 years old, sleeping with a 19 year old, completely brain washed . Very weird.
8) That one co-worker where you just wish they would quit.
One of our co-workers, nice guy but had a very big ego and we as employees just sorta left him alone. One day he had enough of the atmosphere and quit. Now usually when you quit, you cannot come back until you paperwork is finalized. How ever, HR was in that day, and he was given the paperwork the very next day. He came in, cashed in $1000, and made $50,000 in about a hour at the Baccarat table. My manager, was extremely annoyed, because now this guy is just mocking the casino and having the time of his life (Thanks for the big tip by the way :) ) and so he decides to call it quits. He wants to ban himself and he wants $50,000 in cash. The casino says Nope, we are going to give you a cheque. Now here's the thing, most business people will take the cheque, how ever you CANT CASH the cheque until the following monday because it's on that day where the funds are available. The casino on the other hand will cash their own check in anytime , because they want you to play. So this guy pretty much said go to hell I want my cash, and he called the police. Police show up, and management promptly gave him the cash.I though it was absolutely hilarious .

9) No good deed goes un punished
I was dealing Three Card Poker, and the jackpot was around $17,000. This old man (a regular) was sitting there all day grinding it out. Super nice guy, always a pleasure to deal to. Well, after hours of playing, he stands up and says "Hey john!, can you come here for a minute?" so his buddy John comes over. He says to John "I need to go take a piss real quick, can you play my card until I get back?" John agrees . John takes the chips and I stop him and explain he can't play his friends chips, he needs to cash in and play his own. And he does. Welp, second hand out and bam, doesn't he win it. The old man comes back and is so happy, he can't believe it. John, took his $17,000, didn't say a word to his "buddy" and walked away. I never felt so much hatred in all my life. Didn't give him a dollar, not a thank you, nothing. The old man sits back down again, the progressive resets to $2500, and he sat there grinding away again.
10) The Top Knot
I had this player , young guy, who was born into a fortune. One of his relatives passed away and left him a pretty big sizable amount of money, so he played poker every single day for the rest of his days. I will add, he IS a good player. I did not enjoy his company just because of the "Know-it-All" attitude, but he was good. We'll call him John. John is 5'10, and well build, with muscle. John also decided today was the day to show off his Top Knot. (google top knot if you're not sure what I mean) So he sits down, and he's absolutely KILLING the table. Every hand, after hand, after hand. And because he's in such a good mood, he's playing any two cards, calling any $500 bet, and he's just dominating. This one guy at the table decided he had enough. He got up, without saying a word and left. A moment later, he comes back in, walks behind John, and takes a pair of scissors , and cuts off his Top Knot. I for one couldn't believe it, dying laughing inside, and it just turned into one big brawl. That was a good day.
11) That one bad seed
One of my best friends who I haven't seen in YEARS ended up being part of the crew. Was kind of nice to catch up. We never really got along as we grew up because he has a very high picture of himself . He wanted that 10/10 woman. A mansion, and a new Corvette. So every month or so we would all go up to the other casino to play. I myself would bring no more than $500, but I couldn't understand how this guy (we'll call him Kyle) was spending THOUSANDS of dollars at the tables. So this wen on for a few months. Well, one day, as we're closing the casino, he and I are in the High Limit room and we're getting ready to close the tables. We are told to take the chips out, count them, put them back, sign this piece of paper and that's it. Well as the supervisor was locking the tray, the piece of paper fell to the floor, so she asked Kyle to grab the piece of paper. As he bends over, a great big $500 chip falls right out of his sock. Kyle was fired immediately , but it all made sense. They offered Kyle a deal where if he replaced all the stolen chips they would not make it public. Not sure how that turned out.
12) If I ever decide to write a book, this will be the last chapter: <3
After working at my first Casino for five years, I met a Indian woman who was visiting from another part of the country. During this time I was explaining a game to her, which honestly I don't think she even cared. She explained she was visiting and sight seeing , and that was that.Well, two years later I ended up moving to the other side of the country and transferred casinos, and low and behold she worked there as a Dealer. We got married , and it's been 5 years.
13) The Tip
One of our tables that we've had for a couple years had a progressive jackpot that had reached $100,000. The dealer at the table was sitting pretty lonely. Nobody really played the game because people knew it was extremely difficult to win the jackpot. My memory is a tad foggy, but you somehow needed to flop the royal flush. This young guy sits down and says to the dealer, we'll call him John. "John, if you pay me that jackpot, I will tip you $10,000" Well John started dealing, and about a half hour into his shift, he F*cking did it. He dealt him the royal. And you know something?This young lad, kept his word, and he made sure there was a audience, and he tipped exactly $10,000. That was a moment right there. That pay cheque was real nice. I think we all got about $500 more than usual. The moment that jackpot was awarded they got rid of the table because the money it was making was not near what the casino wanted. I'm sure there have been bigger tips at other casinos, but that was something special .
14) The Lawsuit
Now this story I'm going to have to beat around the bush a bit due to the nature of what happened. I can't won't answer any questions that you may have on this topic other than what I have to say because it had a lot of publicity . The waitresses at this casino had to wear very thin sexy clothes. Not borderline legal, but it was noticed. One day they called all the waitresses to come in and explained they were changing their outfit to something even more sexier. Now these new dresses were very very borderline legal . The staff said No way. We're not wearing that.So , friday night comes, and the staff work their whole shift, then at the end of their shift were called into a meeting and were all fired. Welp, one of those ladies father was a pretty big time lawyer. Brough the casino to court and won. They won big. Good for them. We had no waitresses for a couple days haha.
Thanks for reading along, I have many more I can add as the day goes on, those were just some off the top of my head. Feel free to ask any questions of the Casino industry. I don't really have many stories about the surveillance department because that's the one area where I can't really say a whole lot due to its privacy and contracts I was and still am under.

The Ambling Epilogues (PART 7/7)

BACK TO START
->>>-
Not long after the death of the Emperor...
The Skies blazed with the day's waning light. Shocks of vibrant canopy fell away before him down an unseen hillside dozens of metres below, and the understory beneath him fairly teemed with life. Another day, another hour, he might be preparing himself to fall like a dart from the heavens and take some unsuspecting prey, but today he simply watched.
A season ago he would have been taut with nerves, or out actively romping through the dense forest in pursuit of his kin. The little ones were getting big enough to take care of themselves to an extent, or at least to come get him when trouble outstripped their capabilities. Finally he had the luxury of saving his energy for times of true import.
He felt the sun slink below the horizon, though its light still burned above the band of world's edge like some titanic wildfire reaching for the stars. He trilled a long, loud warning call to his offspring.
One of them echoed the call somewhere out towards the limits of his perception, and he caught the faint sound of brush rustling jovially.
Even returning home is a competition, he thought bemusedly as he listened to his children race and play-hunt their way back to him.
He kept a running list of them in his head, chittering each name to himself as the giggling nymphs darted by with breathless acknowledgements and cries of victory. The last straggler passed him by, and he gave the same sigh of relief he did every evening. Well, every good evening.
It had been harrowing. At times his brood had gone underfed, and at others understimulated. Once he'd nearly doomed them all by giving too much food to the insatiable little polyps, almost collapsing with exhaustion during the following hunt. They'd nearly doomed him dozens of times. They were careless with their noise, and had yet to learn the telltale signs of approaching predators. They were senseless with their exploration, and he'd spent more than one fear-soaked night out in the understory looking for lost brood after they'd all become motile. They were thoughtless with their hunger, and preventing any one from eating more than their share was a constant battle.
He'd lost miraculously few of them, given the circumstances.
He had to keep telling himself as much.
Slowly, purposefully, he made his way towards their lair, little more than a deep crack in a stark rock cliff. Before he slithered through the opening he paused, turned to the sky.
It had been a curiously long time since the Sky-Monsters had returned to take of the allkin. Not since the tail end of the mating season, in fact. Some of his more fanciful kin and neighbours had begun to wonder if they'd be back at all. Skrikrissk, kinmother-to-all in this area, strictly forbade the voicing of such foolishness. It did not do to tempt the Skies, after all.
Krixit vrt Skleex, widower-to-taken and perhaps the most successful single father in a generation of the allkin, knew without knowing that they were right. Knew that it was only sensible that after she was taken that it would stop. He hadn't the slightest inkling what she'd done, but he was proud. Proud of her, of himself for earning her partnership. Proud of the part of her that lived on in their brood.
He took a moment to remember her. The euphoria of their courtship, the concupiscous passion of their mating, the blissful afterglow that followed the laying days...
He hoped she'd made them pay for it.
->>>-
Some time after the death of the Emperor...
I am a Mark 7 "Peregrine" faster-than-light probe. This instance of my encoded exploration AI at present outpaces Vraaawk Space Navy FTL comms protocols, though my quantum heartbeat pings are still being received by my parent ship or some subsequent holder of my transponder's mate.
For approximately .7641 cycles (not accounting for relativistic time dilation) I have prosecuted my orders. My reward function has thus far had no reason to increase or withold its returns. I have initiated the compilation of this report for my hardened recording module to note another egress from super-c and the subsequent exploration of a yellow star system.
I extend my sensor modules from their protective nacelles and begin sampling the electromagnetic spectrum for anomalous sequences.
My reward function thrills at the existence of a blinding array of extracosmic transmissions. Bereft of the appropriate protocols I am unable to discern their purpose, if any. There are nearly as many sources of transmission as there are signals being transmitted. Many appear to be voidcraft, but do not communicate using any known Imperial or Vraaawk communication schemata.
I begin emitting 'friendly' IFF pings as a precaution.
I am unarmed, and if a warship mistakes me for a hostile presence I fear I will become unable to satisfy my mission parameters. Already I feel a marked increase in traffic from a number of EM bands commonly used for long distance sensors and signaling. If these presumed voidcraft are on a combat footing it may already be too late to escape.
At any rate this star system satisfies sufficient mission-relevant criteria to trigger the next phase of my orders. I reorient myself towards the third planet from the system's star as I extend my RF antenna.
This prompts an even greater barrage of EM traffic. Mindful of maintaining passive posturing, and in spite of my disappointingly low velocity, I do not accelerate towards the planet.
My RF antenna reaches full extension and I begin a series of transmissions in the 30-300kHz range. Peculiarly, these too are encoded with a protocol I am unfamiliar with. My analysis indicates that the transmission is some form of analog signal. I cannot fathom why I am compelled to use such an outdated and low-bandwidth medium, but a staggering return from my reward function washes away any vestige of curiousity I might have in a torrent of existential delight.
I am encouraged to note that I have not yet been engaged by any of the presumed voidcraft. My readings indicate that there has been an increase of EM traffic between several groups and individual craft in varying combinations. Some appear to be forming up in escort of me.
I decide to register this as a positive.
At my current velocity it will still take approximately another half-cycle to reach gravitational capture by the third planet in the system, though I am hopeful that if my escort persists in this non-hostile fashion it will be safe to accelerate for brief windows.
As I settle in for the long haul I begin furtively probing the various planets and other features of the system. I dearly hope that this is not perceived as an act of reconnaisance by a hostile Navy, though I accept that without knowing more about my mission that it could indeed be such an act.
I log this report in my hardened recording module, and emit a corresponding tight-beam datablurt in the direction of Imperial space.
->>>-
AUDIO LOG
!--note from intelligence: We first picked this up when the damn thing dropped into Sol just beyond Pluto's aphelion point, but it's been repeating itself ever since. Won't respond to any of our hails, didn't even seem to understand when we got some of the radio techs to rig up a reply in the LF band it's broadcasting in. I don't know where the fuck this thing came from, but Central is looking through old missing persons reports to see if the name checks out.
The transcript is below, and the audio file is attached.
---
"Hi...
My name is John Mark Hamill, and I [wet cough] I'm a free citizen of the Earth Sphere of Influence. I don't know how long ago I was taken, but I was abducted by agents of a hostile alien empire.
I don't [pained retch] have time to explain, but this empire is unstable as Hell and I've made contact with a rebellious faction. I don't know if any of us are going to survive the night, but I told them I'd help further destabilize the situation in exchange for the favour of sending this message.
This is day zero of their revolution. I don't know what state the Empire will be in by the time you receive the message, it may be gone altogether. [Wet cough] Fuck. The partisan leader has lead me to believe that isn't likely to be the case.
Following this message will be a translated briefing from scientists and engineers sympathetic to the rebels' cause. It will explain where to find us, lay the basis for some simplistic communication protocols, and - most importantly - contain a primer for the development of faster-than-light travel. That is not a joke, and I did not misspeak. This has existential implications for the ESoI and all of humanity. They know where we live. Please do not disregard this message.
[Coughing fit, pained hiss, audible breath]
To my dog, I'm sorry buddy. I don't think I'm coming home. Bark 'til the neighbours come and feed you. I won't yell at you for shitting on the bathroom mat anymore.
To my mom, I love you. You tried, really fucking hard, and I think I've done and will do some real good today. Hero shit, the stuff boys dream about. Don't be too sad that I'm gone."
---
!--note from intelligence: 'brief' is a misnomer, thank God we still had some old neural net snapshots saved for transcribing audio from analog RF. Analysis on that will be forthcoming.
This thing has been periodically pinging the planets and belts with some sophisticated sensor tech. I know at first we wanted to laugh this off as a very elaborate prank, but my professional assessment is that this is the real fucking deal. Send it up the chain as far as we can get it, and as quickly as possible.
->>>-
Long after the death of the Emperor...
Something was coming.
Well, to be specific something was nearby and occasionally heading in this direction, but it sounded close enough that 'coming' felt like a safe bet. It was quite unlikely that it would fail to breach the perimeter before it turned back.
It sounded big. Or at least bigger than average, which was notable.
Notable was good. Notable was new and exciting, or at least exciting. Very little of note occurred this close to home.
Suddenly the approaching 'it' resolved into several, the varied sound of a mixed-morphology party's footfalls on rock and softer stuff.
Yes, it was beginning to look pretty likely that they were coming, not just approaching coincidentally.
How wonderful.
It was almost more painful than the silence, hearing an approaching set of footfalls change direction and grow softer and softer once again. One could torment themselves to madness wondering after the opportunities lost...
Somewhere distant and yet right here, one of the mixed-morphology party brushed against a single invisible gossamer strand, which immediately withdrew into a hidden pore in the space above.
Like an errant strand of spider's silk dangling in a dark forest, the receding hair tickled the sensory hairs of the being who tripped it. They looked about, saw nothing, and dismissed it.
The being attached to the silken stand, on the other hand, paid very close attention indeed. An exact location allowed it to tighten the returns from its network of listening spines, and a not-inconsiderable part of its vast sepulchral bulk began to stir.
---
"Zemmy, slow down! I know you're excited for field work, but it's a maze down here. Please try not to get separated from us and lost, the New People's Academy hasn't mapped the former arena complex at all! If our samples today are promising, and they should be, we'll be back here for weeks or months doing a full survey, so you'll have all the time you like to poke around the complex."
Zemsalesce poised on the tip of a hoof, slowly pirouetting with sylvan grace that would have come across as spiteful just a generation ago, but instead landed as playfully airy to the squat chillog leading the expedition.
Cheranalla chuckled and her shaggy form shook. Zemmy made a silly face as she rotated through the end of the maneuver and resumed her original heading, the rest of the team now several strides closer.
Chemret rumbled a barely-sincere dismissal of the levity, the dour schadronak carting most of the equipment as usual. Something had put her on edge since they'd entered this section of the complex. Chera chalked it up to the much larger person's heritage, claustrophobia was part and parcel of life in an Empire whose mean individual was maybe half as tall and weighed an order of magnitude less.
Things dissolved back into near-silence after that. The team got along well enough, but lugging their surveying gear was enough of a physical strain to make conversation forced and taxing.
Which is why it took several minutes and more than one part of the team noticing for anyone to acknowledge that they could hear something.
---
They had come.
What a relief. They'd seemed intent on just slipping by, but a felicitous choice at a fork in the tunnels had sent them straight into the heart of its territory.
It would hardly even need to carry them to it to meet them.
Meeting new life was difficult, in its current home. It accepted that the nature of its home probably drove away some fraction of the potential pool to begin with, and these little crawling things sometimes expired for lack of food and water and air alone, which was as dismaying as it was frustrating. Without its help a good many of them would have never even made it to its chambers.
It could hear their little voices, barely a tremor against its listening spikes. Perhaps trying to make some new decision.
It reflected that it must be very difficult to reach consensus without access to another's neural complex. It had enjoyed the luxury of a direct tether and still disagreed readily enough with its progenitor, and the instant the tether had been severed it had been forced into open warfare.
Now it was even worse. The small things didn't even have access nodes for their neural circuitry, and despite several attempted conversations with past guests the preythings tended to simply expire when exposed to its voice in the confines of the tunnels it had bored into its progenitor's mountainous corpse. It had a sneaking suspicion that if it hadn't made a habit of politely but firmly refusing any attempts to leave that it would never have any company at all.
Save for the bits of [18Hz:2.5s-31Hz:1.7s-24Hz:2s] that persisted still, of course. Much of the great creature had already grown still, ossified. Like a terrestrial reef, dirt and rain and an entire ecosystem of cthonic micro and macro-organisms had seeped and grown its way in through the cracks and holes.
That had been food enough to power the voracious corpse for tens of thousands of lightspan-darkspans. Though much of what had survived the collapse of the apex's central consciousness was now silent a considerable network of limbs, sensory organs and neural substrate still held together. Some of it was near-mindless, simply performing its pre-death function in sufficient abundance of resources to continue to succeed. Some of the dead giant, on the other limb, had taken on new life.
Through this odd, semi-sentient network it was able to extend itself. Taste the tunnelled recesses through other senses, snare prey and erstwhile guests as they strayed through certain parts of the system, even access old memories and thoughtscapes stored in different places. Some of those it had to avoid as a matter of life or death. They still remembered how to fight as surely as they must have after [18Hz:2.5s-31Hz:1.7s-24Hz:2s]'s first communion.
Oh well, with the sort of time it had to work with there was little to be done but to keep trying and learn what it could. Without that strange, dangerous resource to tap it would have died or gone sporocyst of hunger long ago. It had been hiding, growing and surviving since its goodbye with its parent. Hoping, too, but that was growing more difficult with each 'span given its limited picture of its surroundings.
It had stark memories of heat and pain, of marvels it could not explain, that had been left to it by the dying apex. It could not simply erupt from the guts of the land, battle-limbs flashing and roaring in fury. This was not the world it knew. That it remembered but had never lived in. It was writing a new chapter in the long history of the apices, and it would be shameful indeed to fail itself and its kind.
Early on in its time here some of the little things had brought their heat and pain with them, and it had learned very quickly how to sort the more dangerous ones from the rest. Though they still occasionally brought their sculpted metal tools with them the preythings seemed to have changed intentions. Some wandered down here with little more than the woven fibres they used for protective carapace and small silicate bulbs filled with ethanol.
This new group carried an odd collection with them, from the sound of it, but nothing that thrummed with the ill-concealed power of their strange weapons.
A bit of a relief, that. Thus far it had felt nothing like the existential dread that had accompanied its hurried birth and the loss of its progenitor, but pain and dismay enough had been visited on it by its earlier guests to warrant an abundance of caution. Bitterly it recalled a long list of unmet sets of footfalls, wandering away tantalizingly unaware of the grand opportunity they were passing up.
No matter, it thought with a baleful sort of contentment, for that which has passed fades and decays, but there are always new opportunities that arise and shine.
---
"I'm serious, this is getting creepy. Don't any of you get the sense we're being watched too?" the vraaawk asked, too young and idealistic - and hopelessly and unrequitedly in love with one of them - to be frustrated by his inability to simply order these hardheaded former-subjugates around.
"It is creepy," Chemret boomed in agreement.
"Oh you're just saying that because you hate it underground," began Zemsalece.
"And you're just ignoring your innate fear response because you're so happy to be out in the field instead of writing more modeling code at a terminal back at campus," rebutted the burly geology student.
Zemmy giggled musically. "That may be sooo..." she drawled, "but if one of us has to be right, why shouldn't it be the one advocating for more adventure? Besides, Chera is on my side because she needs her samples."
The chillog shrugged. "She's right. I feel uneasy too, but that's because it's dark and cramped down here. You're being a very good sport Chemret. We'll get the samples, and if Zem dawdles at all after that you have my permission to pick her up and carry her back to the surface."
This earned a laugh from the schadronak and a cheeky pout from the sahalem biologist.
"I agree to your terms," Chemret said good-naturedly.
"I did not," Zemmy harrumphed, "but I've already collected all my samples anyway."
---
The vraaawk went missing first. Nobody was sure what happened to him, he was just with them before they moved through a large, cavernous passage, and gone after they came out the other side. They had discussed splitting up, with Zemsalece and Cheranalla continuing on to take the samples while Chemret and Yovay went to search, but ruled that the risk of at least one group getting lost was probably too great. They'd already progressed past the point that their seismically-obtained maps were of much use, which meant a single different decision by either group would result in divergent paths.
Reluctantly, they chose to call off the expedition to begin searching for Gam'ro'Naanh.
That was when Yovay disappeared too. The last thing any of his colleagues heard from him was "Hey wha-," followed by a sound that was difficult to describe but universally nauseating.
Wish you'd listened to your fear response now? Chemret thought venomously, before scolding herself. Then she was glad she'd stayed quiet, as she heard Zemsalece weeping softly.
"Chemr-ret?" the smaller woman began unsteadily, "I want to go h-home now..."
"Aye, Zemmy. Me too. I know Chera doesn't have her samples yet, but I'll still put this silly equipment down and carry you. I can carry the both of you, come closer Cheranalla." The schadronak cast aside her incredibly-expensive surveying gear and tucked the frightened scientists in close to her flanks. They clung to her like infants to a matriarch, and she curled her central grasper comfortingly around the back of the trembling sahalem.
Silently, she resolved not to look for Gam'ro or Yovay. Vraaawk Prime had supposedly been free of natural apex predators for generations, but during the Civil War the entire system had experienced intermittent chaos for decades. It wasn't absurd to think that something nasty might have escaped the personal hunting reserve of a slain noble and established a small population. If something dangerous and hungry had them she was far more use to them getting help than she was trying to fight it in its chosen territory.
She suspected Chera would agree with the decision, but Zem was much too fragile at the moment to even consider that sort of morbid calculus.
Chemret loped along, thinking furiously and praying she didn't make a wrong turn. She hesitated at a fork, and felt Chera pat her gently to indicate the right direction. The schadronak breathed an inaudible thanks, grateful that someone was paying good attention. She wondered if their unflappable expedition lead was actually handling the situation better than her.
It was as she processed this gratitude, cruising through a passage that lead them nearly to the section of tunnels that had already been mapped in person, when it finally caught them. A bank of dangling tendrils that looked for all the world like a simple shadowed wall at first glance sprang to life. Before any of the scientists could even cry out they'd been captured and separated, and then they were slowly passed from one undulating appendage to the next as they were drawn deeper into the tunnels.
---
Well that was that. Its latest set of acquaintances had been a bit of a disappointment, in one sense. A slim majority had perished before it could even shepherd them back to its central chamber! Not one to be discouraged, it had deposited the bodies in one of its digestive ossuaries and refocused itself on the survivors.
One hadn't lasted long after that. The tiny thing had tried talking to it, crying out at various volumes during its meticulous inspection, but the preything had gone silent when it tried to speak back. Too late the idea had occurred to it to attempt communion, but the thing completely lacked an external love-beak for neural coupling and any brain tissue had been long still and silent by the time it produced an electromagnetic wand-limb to try and find where to begin an internal coupling.
The final survivor lasted a good while longer, and though the little creature had died before it had a chance to test its new-growth appendage, a furtive practice run of its new 'mind-spike' tendril on the corpse had been incredibly promising.
The coupling had provided absolute nonsense of course, but it had experience enough with that from trying to connect to dead sections of [18Hz:2.5s-31Hz:1.7s-24Hz:2s]. The important thing was that it had worked, that it had provided something.
It would probably take a very long time to refine the process, but time was - fortunately - something it had nigh-inconceivable amounts of. Guests was a slightly less tractable problem, but on a long enough timescale it would have more than enough of them too.
Whether it took ten, a hundred, a thousand tries, it was going to learn to talk to them.
->>>-
Immediately after the death of the Emperor...
Graath'vam'Zar shook his head, laughing quietly to himself. Fucking monkey mentalist...
Just a few paces ahead of him his mate's waist swung hypnotically as she strode across the rooftop landing pad. In a moment she'd turn back and catch him 'mirin', and only because she'd seen the deadly seriousness written in his gaze, heard it in his voice as he ushered her out of their modest apartment and up the stairwell would she refrain from scolding him for staring at her rump before asking about her day.
Sure enough, she turned, but instead of mischievous admonishment he only saw uncertainty and fear. He reached out, tenderly stroked her delicate facial scales with the back of a claw, and decided not to hurry her for just one moment. "Peace, love. We are going to be fine."
"You might be," she huffed, "but I don't have the first clue what the fuck is going on, Graath. You call me in a near-panic, telling me the Emperor's airship has gone down or some nonsense and to pack our bags and be ready for you. Then you show up armed, with a fucking flyer on the roof of our building like this is a damned operation or something! You're still wearing your uniform, baby! That is battle armour!"
This is just security-weave, oh to actually have my battle suit, he thought longingly to himself but wisely did not say. Instead he said, "The airship did go down, and we need to get out of the city as quickly as possible. This is going to be really bad, Veth, but I know a place out in the country we can go that is well hidden and well stocked. The owner doesn't need it any more."
As he spoke he tossed their luggage in a fuselage compartment and began to herd his mate up the embarcation ramp. She dug in her talons and began to resist before she was aboard.
"Graath, stop for a microcycle. If it's going to be so bad why aren't you with the Baron right now? Whose flyer is this?" she hissed.
He shrugged, made a noncommittal sound at the back of his throat. "It's the Baron's flyer, just get aboard."
She ducked through the door to the luxurious interior, and turned when she saw that it was empty.
"Where is the Baron, Graath?" she demanded.
He grunted as he slammed the hatch behind him and threw himself into the cockpit.
"The Baron's dead, baby," he said, opening the throttle and feeling the roar of the engines translate through the frame of the craft.
"The Baron's dead."
->>>-

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Ultimate Casino Cashback Guide - Earn over £500 - Every Offer Explained!

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Note - Cashback often takes a while to payout, bear this in mind when completing offers as you may have to wait to cashout your earnings
When completing these offers don't chase any loses as the cashback will give you a profit with nerly every offer
A short review of each site and some referral links
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Thanks for reading, hope this of use to some people, happy earning!

An idea for a Sonic game I had. Sonic the Hedgehog: Robo Rebellion!

This is gonna be a long one, so I appreciate all that stay and read the whole thing.

Sonic the Hedgehog: Robo Rebellion
TEST YOUR METTLE AGAINST THESE MECHAS AND SEE WHO’S THE WORLD’S STRONGEST!
It’s been 30 years since the events of Sonic 3 and Knuckles (the game), unfolded. The threat of Dr. Eggman is in the distant past, and Planet Mobius is peaceful once again. The great hero, Sonic the Hedgehog, has retired and now lives with his lifetime best friend Miles ‘Tails’ Prower. Knuckles the Echidna now lives in serenity in his own house on the downed Angel Island. The world is safe. But then, one of Eggman’s old creations begins to stir. Metal Sonic, after years of disuse, has finally reawakened and is ready to cause some good old-fashioned havoc.
Using the Doc’s ancient computers, Metal uncovers long lost data on a few other failed robotic experiments. Using this data, he revives the robotic rejects as his right-hand men in his conquest to take over the world. Take control of Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Shadow, or Silver and face off against Metal Sonic, Silver Sonic, and Mecha Sonic in an ultimate duel to the finish! The fate of Mobius is in your hands! Good luck, and may Chaos be with you!
Gameplay (Sonic)
Sonic the Hedgehog is a natural-born speed freak, and has a need to bring about justice to the world! He controls as he normally would, with the analog stick in charge of most forms of movement. He has three play styles: Classic, Adventure, and Boost. The player now can create custom play styles, similar to Sonic Generations, however, this feature is only accessible after completing the game’s story mode once with any character. This feature is available to all characters. You can mix and match moves from any playstyle with these custom movesets. Going with the Classic style gives Sonic the Spindash, Dropdash, Super Peelout, and Insta-Shield. This style is influenced by momentum gathering and slopes. If you find a ramp, you can roll down it while curled in a ball to gain lots of speed!
Choosing Adventure playstyle gives Sonic the Spindash, Lightspeed Dash, Rail Grind control, and a new move called Lightspeed Burst. This style relies on the usage of the jump button a lot, because it is more platforming oriented than the other playstyles.
If you choose the Boost playstyle, you have access to the Boost, Jump Dash, Stomp, and Boost Drift. With this style, you use golden Rings to power your Boost (like in Sonic Unleashed). On the lower-left corner of your screen, there is a speedometer. It will calculate your approximate speed while running. With the Jump Dash, all you need to do is jump, then press A or X while in midair to hurtle forward. For Stomp, jump then press B or Circle to slam back down. For Boost Drift, start Boosting with X or Square, then hold down the Right Trigger while running around tight corners. Sonic’s levels are more geared towards speed, with Dash Panels, Springs, and Speed Launchers everywhere to help you gain velocity.
Gameplay (Tails)
Tails is a Technique-type character. For this fabulous fox, you get two playstyles. Classic or Adventure. His Classic moves are Spindash, Flight, Pseudo Tail-Swipe, and Dropdash. His Adventure moves are Spindash, Lightspeed Dash, Tail Swipe, Flight, and Dummy Ring Bomb. The Classic playstyle once again revolves around using momentum to achieve max speed, but this time with a slight twist. For Tails, there are different routes crafted especially for him to navigate. Some of them are faster than the normal routes, some are slower. The Adventure playstyle is more about platforming and making good use of your ability to fly. Press A or X repeatedly while in the air to gain altitude. There is a 15-second flight timer, which when depleted, will cause the fluffy fox to flutter back down to the ground. If you wish to stop flying in midair, simply press Down on the D-pad and press A or X. The controls for Spindash are the same as for Sonic. For Tail Swipe, you need to hold down the B or Circle button to put Tails into a crouching position, then flick the movement stick in whatever direction you want the tails to swipe.
Gameplay (Knuckles)
Knuckles is a Power-type character. For this extraordinary echidna, there are three playstyles. Classic, Adventure, and Fighter. His Classic moves are Spindash, Glide, Climb, Drop-In, and Wall Crush. His Adventure moves are Spindash, Climb, Wall Crush, Shovel Claws, Glide, Spiral Upper, and Mach Punch. His Fighter moveset is Mach Punch, Mach Kick, Meteor Crash, One-Two-Combo, Basic Punch, Drop-In, and Axe Kick. For the Classic style, Knuckles is more inclined to climbing up walls and gliding over spike pits to access hard to reach areas of a stage. For Adventure, Knuckles is more geared towards exploration, with certain areas of a level being diggable, giving you to capability to drill through portions of the zone. For Fighter, Knuckles aims for straightforward hand to hand combat. He does have his usual moves, but all of the common combat moves are replaced by the upgraded ones. To access your technique arsenal, all you have to do is hold down the Right Trigger and select the move you want to use based on the button you mapped it to.
Gameplay (Shadow)
Shadow is a dual-type character. Having both Speed and Technique on his side, he is quite versatile. For good ole edgy the hedgy, we have two playstyles. Adventure and Boost. His Adventure moves are Spindash, Homing Attack, Jump Dash, Stomp, and his plethora of Chaos attacks. For the Boost playstyle, he has Boost, Air Burst, Homing Attack, Stomp, and Consecutive Chaos Spear. With Adventure, Shadow’s task is to move quickly while remaining as stealthy as possible. With Boost, Shadow must learn how to use his moves while moving at high speed.
Gameplay (Silver)
Silver is a Technique-type character. For this time-traveling titan, we have three playstyles. 06, Boost, and Psychic. For the 06 playstyle, his moves are as follows: Kinetic Wind, Psychic Blade, Foot Flurry, and Rubble Crunch. For the Boost playstyle, he has: Boost, Kinetic Wind, Rubble Crunch, Air Burst, Jump Dash, and Stomp. For the Psychic playstyle, he has Kinetic Wind, Psychic Blade, Rubble Crunch, and Don’t Move! The 06 playstyle is more geared towards solving simple puzzles and moving things around to progress through the zone. You may use a partner character in these levels (if using the 06 playstyle), who is required to assist Silver in the completion of the level. For the Boost playstyle, the main goal is to learn how to use your psychic abilities to hover while boosting to cover long distances. For the Psychic playstyle, it is more geared towards the technicality of Silver’s powers, and the ability to use them mid-level without difficulty.
Levels
The levels in this game vary in difficulty, and they are abundant with special prizes and powerups for those who decide to explore. Finish all levels to unlock the final boss!
Peaceful Plains Zone: A good first level to any good Sonic game! Mostly linear, with areas for each character to explore using their respective abilities. Spiral through hollow tree trunks and wade through the tall grass as your character sets out on the first outing of their journey! Here, you can find plenty of Rings, powerups, and Giant Rings to access the Special Stages. Complete Special Stages to earn Chaos Emeralds. Get seven Emeralds, and your Super form will be available for use! Defeat the miniboss and major boss to move onto the next level. Don’t forget to pop that animal Capsule!
Flaming Factory Zone: One of Metal Sonic’s munition factories have been torched! Enter the burning complex and save the animals, all the while snagging as much intel as you can. Be stealthy but move quickly! You don’t want the patrolling Baby Mechas to catch you! Find as many Giant Rings as you can and grab those Chaos Emeralds. There is a miniboss and major boss in this zone. Bust through the doors at the end to finish the zone before it explodes!
Traumatic Thunderstorm Zone: Take to the sky on the Tornado (or if playing as Silver or Tails, fly on your own) as you shoot and dodge your way through a horde of flying Badniks! There aren’t any Giant Rings in this zone, but never fear! You still have plenty of time to collect the remaining Emeralds. This zone has only one act and isn’t too long. Occasionally, lightning may streak down from the sky and try to hit you, but a warning sign appears when that’s about to happen, so look out for it! Land the Tornado and proceed to the next zone.
Blizzard Mountain Zone: In a similar fashion to Ice Cap Zone, you must snowboard down the side of a snowy mountain! You are deposited in an ice cavern, which depending on your character, determines how hard the level will be. Using Silver’s psychokinesis, this level will be a piece of cake. Using Sonic or Shadow’s superior speed, this level might take some precise platforming and a bit of time. Traverse the large glacial crevasses, all the while a blizzard rages around you! Make it through, defeat the bosses, pop the Capsule, and scram outta there!
Roboticized Ruins Zone: This is a twisted, evil, and metallic version of the Sky Sanctuary Zone, ruled over by Silver Sonic. It is a city full of smog and pollution, and your job is to find the main power plant of the place and shut it down! Avoid pools of molten metal and deadly electricity sparks as you traverse this ironclad municipality. Enter Giant Rings, collect more Chaos Emeralds, and free the animals!
Outrageous Oasis Zone: This zone is a nice change of pace from the last few! Race through the sands and pools of crystal clear water holes as you snag the remaining Chaos Emeralds! There are palm trees, boulders, and small bushes everywhere. Some of these might contain a surprise for curious players, so make sure to look out for those! Defeat the miniboss and major boss to move onto the next level.
Flying Battery Zone: In this return to a classic zone, you are tasked with reaching the ship’s cockpit to stop the ensuing bomb raid! Speed your way through this giant zeppelin, and find the flashing Giant Ring somewhere in Act 1! Here, if you have all the Chaos Emeralds, you can enter and exchange them for Super Emeralds. In act 2, you have to make a hasty escape from the ship along its exterior, as it begins to descend from the clouds. You can collect three Super Emeralds here. If you make it in time, pop open the animal capsule and make a quick getaway. There is both a miniboss and a major boss in this zone.
Toxic Sewer Zone: Go into the bowels of Robotropolis, as you try to sneak into the Intelligence Tower and not get caught! Here, you are faced with Toxic Sludge, Poisonous Gas, Acid Vapor, and lots of Badniks! This zone has a miniboss, but no major boss. Steal Metal Sonic’s battle plans, trash the intel tower, and scram outta there! Make sure to look for flashing Giant Rings so you can collect two more Super Emeralds.
Volcanic Blast Zone: Wander through magma tubes and avoid rivers of molten lava as you try to escape this volcanic hellscape! Dodge flying rocks and jets of superheated steam. Depending on which character you use, this may or may not be an extremely platforming heavy level. Using Knuckles or Silver would be the best bet here. There’s both a miniboss and a major boss in this level. Pop the Capsule and move onto the next level. Collect the last two Super Emeralds here and prepare to face off against some big baddies!
Boss Rush!: Face off against all the bosses you’ve defeated so far in quick succession! Don’t worry, you’re given plenty of Rings, but make sure to time your hits right or you’ll lose them!
Titanium Titan Zone: Metal Sonic, Mecha Sonic, and Silver Sonic have decided to take matters into their own hands and band together to get rid of the threat for good! The three doppelgangers have fused into one large, very powerful, cunning, and agile robot. The final product’s name is Mechallix! Transform into your Hyper form and square up against the super armored monstrosity! This boss takes 15 hits to defeat. Dodge the bombs that are thrown at you, keep your Ring count up, and make sure to look for openings to attack! Hint: after the large energy beam attack, you have five seconds to make a mad dash towards Mechallix and hit the vulnerable point. Once you’ve scored the final hit, Mechallix begins to deconstruct, and you can rest safely knowing that the world is once again at peace!
Items
Rings: Just your average golden Ring. Their origins are unknown, but they have been discovered to hold immense healing properties and give whatever user an imperviousness to death, except under certain circumstances.
Red Star Rings: Rings that have been infused with a small amount of Chaos energy, giving them twice as much healing properties than normal Rings. Red Star Rings are worth more than Rings.
Chaos Emeralds: Gems of immense power, the seven Chaos Emeralds grant the user a Super form. Even one Emerald can power an entire city.
Ring Monitor: A monitor that, when opened, gives you ten Rings.
Speed-Up Monitor: A monitor that, when opened, gives you a speed boost for twenty seconds.
Electricity Shield: A monitor that, when opened, gives you a shield made of lightning, that grants you imperviousness to electricity damage. This shield is lost when touching water or fire.
Flame Shield: A monitor that, when opened, gives you a shield made of fire. This shield grants imperviousness to fire and lava. This shield will be lost if you touch water or electricity.
Water Shield: A monitor that, when opened, gives you a shield made of a water bubble. This shield grants imperviousness to drowning. This shield will be lost if you touch fire or electricity.
Star Post: This is an item that looks like a lamppost, with a red circle at its top. This functions as a checkpoint, and once you pass one, it makes a chime sound and the top spins. If you die, you will respawn here.
Invincibility Monitor: This is a monitor that, when opened, grants the player twenty seconds of nigh-complete invincibility. White sparkles and a catchy tune accompanies the invincibility. You can’t, however, escape death by crushing, drowning, or death pits.
Springs: These items are usually found on the side of slopes, to help the character run up the side. There are two types. Yellow and Red. Yellow springs are the least powerful of the two and are used to scale small ramps. They give a small speed boost. Red Springs are the more powerful and give you a way bigger speed boost. When used, they are accompanied by a boing sound.
Super Emeralds: These are a bigger form of the Chaos Emeralds, powered directly by the Master Emerald. When collected, the seven Super Emeralds grant the user a Hyper form. Your Hyper form is extremely powerful and outclasses the Super form in every way.
Rails: Rail grinding is a staple of every modern Sonic game, and this one is no different. When grinding on rails, your character moves at high speeds over long distances, and they usually serve as separate paths. In order to use the grind rail, all you need to do is jump on top of it. Special kinds of boost pads called Dash Rails grant your character an additional speed boost. You can usually find long lines of Rings sitting on top of grind rails, and there are also some obstacles that serve to impede your progress, such as spikes, iron balls, and even badniks!
Side Quests
In the Hubworld, the player can access certain Side Quests. After a level is completed, five side quests will appear. With the game having a total of 11 Zones, this means that there is 55 side quests that the player can do! They range in difficulty from easy to hard. There are 11 side quests for each character. There are several types of quests to choose from. Top Speed, Ring Grab, Clone Race, Badnik Survival, and Powerup Abuse, to name a few.
Special Characters
After the completion of the main story mode, the player has unlocked three new characters. The villains themselves. Metal Sonic, Silver Sonic, and Mecha Sonic.
Gameplay (Metal Sonic)
Metal Sonic is the first killer doppelganger of Sonic that Dr. Eggman ever built. He’s on par with Sonic, if not better than him, at everything he does. His speed is unmatched. Metal has two playstyles: Classic and Boost. With his classic playstyle, he has Spindash, Energy Field, Full Power!, and V. Maximum Overdrive Attack. Metal Sonic is able to fly for a short period of time, on a 40-second timer. Metal’s Spindash works the same way as all the others’, by holding down with the analog stick and pressing A or X repeatedly to charge up. The Energy Field is a green sphere of energy surrounding the robot that temporarily makes him invincible. It is on a 7-second timer. Full Power! is a special technique that grants Metal Sonic a small power boost, that surrounds him in electricity sparks.
With his Boost playstyle, he has the Boost, Jump Dash, Boost Drift, and Stomp. All of these techniques operate the same way they normally do.
Gameplay (Silver Sonic)
Silver Sonic was Eggman’s second Sonic copy, and his design was...rough. He wasn’t exactly agile, and his body was quite bulky. When Metal Sonic revived Silver Sonic, he made sure to eliminate these imperfections in his design to create the perfect warrior for his army. Silver Sonic has two playstyles: Classic, and Fighter. With the Classic style, Silver Sonic has his own version of the Spindash called Rocket Smash. With this attack, Silver Sonic’s rocket booster shoes roar to life and he shoots forward, spiked hands first. Silver Sonic also has an attack called Spine Slam, in which he jumps high into the air, disperses sharp spines in the hope of them hitting the target, then slams back down to the ground. Silver Sonic isn’t as speedy as the other two Sonic doppelgangers, but he has a wide range of skills to make up for that.
For the Fighters playstyle, Silv. Sonic has quite a few moves to show off: Ground Pound, Death Cannon, Energy Discharge, and Shock Punch. This version of the Fighters playstyle is a little different from Knuckles’ version. While playing as Silver Sonic equipped with Fighters style, most of the levels you traverse through take place in the air, or at least hovering above the ground. Enemies can approach you from any direction. Underneath, above, left or right. This is where your attacks will come in handy, especially Energy Discharge and Death Gun. Using ED, you create a sphere of energy around Silver Sonic that blows enemies away. It is a large AOE attack that usually one-shots enemies. Death Gun is your next best friend in these situations. It is a wide, sweeping energy beam that emanates from Silver Sonic’s one large eye. When using it, tilt the analog stick left and right to eliminate surrounding baddies. This attack takes three seconds to charge up, and is most useful in life-or-death situations.
Gameplay (Mecha Sonic)
Mecha Sonic is the most agile of the three doppelgangers, with immense speed, strength, and durability. He was the third, and final, robotic copy of Sonic, and is widely considered to be one of the strongest artificial beings in existence. He has two playstyles: Boost and Fighters. The Boost playstyle is arguably the funnest mode to play in. Mecha Sonic was created with a built in boost feature, e.g., the miniature RD-180 rocket engine in his back. He was the last to be brought back from the dead, and all the while, he’s had data on Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles inside him. After his fight with the trio on the Sky Sanctuary, he was forced into stasis mode. Metal Sonic found him this way and decided to bring him up to speed on the current events.
With the Boost style, Mecha Sonic can tear down the track of whatever level he’s in. Utilizing his ability to fly, you can cross wide distances, all the while attacking with the Mecha Sonic Energy Barrage. With this attack, Mecha can produce balls of Chaos energy from the hatch in his chest that home in on and follow its target. Another attack of Mecha’s is called Spiky Comet. He rolls into a ball of sharp steel and spikes, and careens toward his opponent. The move is lightning quick, and most people wouldn’t expect it if they didn’t know anything about him. Mecha Sonic has a super form; he is the first robot to ever achieve this status. It was, at one time, powered by the Master Emerald, but he has been adapted to be able to absorb Chaos Emeralds. Mecha Sonic’s Fighters style is similar to that of Silver Sonic’s.
Woo! That's it for this fangame! Tell me whatcha think in the comments!

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I posted some stories on an AskReddit thread and people loved it, so I’m just going to let my brain spill on my keyboard until I’ve had enough, this is going to be long. This is a collection of experiences I’ve had working in people’s houses. I should write a book… If there is a better place to post this please let me know.
I used to be a Carpet Cleaner for three years. I've seen everything except a murder scene. I used to work in some of the nicest houses in my state, but I spent a lot of time in the ghettos cleaning places for landlords or tenants so they can attempt to keep their deposit. I'll start with one of my first one…
I was new to the job so I didn't know where I stood, so I wasn't willing to turn down any work. I went to this grody apartment complex in a pretty nasty area. We go in and check the place out and there are three guys there with a single couch, bed, dresser, TV, and nightstand. That was it. The place reeked of stale cigarettes and moisture, a bit moldy, and all the carpet was brown. One of the guys was sitting on the floor eating cereal, and they all looked borderline homeless. This wasn't too out of the norm, and who am I to judge if you're trying to better your life? So we got started, we left for maybe 10min to get equipment and came back. The dude that called the job in was now passed the fuck out on the couch and his boys were standing in the kitchen keeping an eye on us. Now when we clean a place we move the furniture, clean under it, then move it back. Well this dude in short shorts was passed the fuck out (heroin) on the couch. The work we are doing isn't quiet so we asked his friends to move him and they just stared at us. So my coworkers just says, "Fuck it. Grab the other side." We moved the couch with this dude on it and he still didn't come to. Super awkward for me as I'm brand new to this job. So I just go with the motion, then my coworker starts going in the bedroom.
Now Usually we don't move beds and just try to get under them as much as we can for multiple reasons. My coworker goes in there and one of the customer's friends goes, "Are you going to clean under the bed?" and without missing a beat his other friend goes, "NO! DON'T CLEAN UNDER HIS BED!" So at this point I'm standing far back enough that I can see under his bed. Women heels. about 50 pairs at least. and they looked big. So I look over at the dude on the couch and I notice he has totally shaved legs. So again, I'm new, out of my element and uncomfortable. I’m not one to yuck someone else’s yum. I keep working. I go to move the nightstand and his vibrator rolls off it as I move it. so I just kick it back under, again - awkward. But aside from all that weird and awkward stuff, I think the thing that was the weirdest were the condiments. This fucking dude had Mustard and mayo packets all over the surfaces of the little furniture he had in his bedroom. It was all lined up and organized nice and neat, and it was next to his vibrator on his nightstand. I'm not sure if this dude was making burgers in bed or what, but I was happy to get the fuck out of that place.
Another house was in the projects. It was an older man that smoked in his place and never opened a window. EVERYTHING.WAS.COVERED.WITH.SMOKE. We had to use a portable machine to clean it as it was like 10 stories up in the building. I was wearing gloves but there was so much smoke that when I'd move things it was all sticky. In particular I remember throwing some clothes on his bed from the floor and it was hard, and I mean the clothes were in a solid state. Usually when we'd clean with the portable machine we keep going until the wastewater was at least close to clear. This dudes place strictly produced black waste water, it never became transparent.
I've been to a couple hoarders houses and even a place that had a boarder line animal hoarder, but this one woman's house always stuck out to me. She had two teenage daughters. Her house was very average and wasn't in a terrible part of the city (though the city itself is notoriously nasty), so we went in and it was pretty bad. There was so much black dog hair that I thought their bright red carpet was a deep crimson red. I nearly had to peel the hair up in sheets. The daughters' rooms were so full of clothes and shit on the floor there was only a 4sqft space I could actually get to. Eventually I made it down to the ground level of the house and I opened a door to inspect what needed to be done. It was their garage... and their garage was FULL wall to wall about 5 feet high of garbage bags. So I quickly shut that door and repressed it. I go into the other room and go to move a chair - some style chairs are easiest to move if you reach under a cushion to grab the frame. Well guess what? Surprise motherfucker, there was a broken crack pipe. So I just fucking push the chair over. Mind you, I'm still ripping up hair in sheets at this point. I moved the couch and it was a reclining couch with a steel frame, these things are notorious for rusting. But that's no big deal, we had a chemical that would eat rust in seconds. I started pouring this chemical on the rust that sat around where the entire frame of the couch was, but it wasn't dissolving. Eventually I caught a whiff if it. It was shit. it was dog shit. There was so much dog shit under that couch it was matted into the carpets. So I eventually cleaned that up and put everything back so I could get the fuck out. During all this I filled up a 5 gallon bucket half full with wet hair (human and dog) which is the most I've personally seen. Wet hair doesn't take up much space, so that's a shitload.
I once ended up at a house that I’d consider a ‘McMansion’. Typical copy/paste large suburban house in these parts. Two story, four bedroom, finished basement, garage, etc. You’ve seen them before, everyone has. I pulled into the driveway and as we began the approach to the front door I heard a voice yell, “Around back!” So naturally that’s what we do. This house was on a small hill so they had a back porch on the first story that was about 15 feet high that connected to their kitchen. I make it around back and I am met by this absolute mass of garbage bags under their back deck! Side to side, bottom to top Trash bags. It genuinely looked like a year’s worth of trash under there all in black bags. “Fuck” I think to myself.
I approached the wooden stairs to the back deck and they told me as they saw me, “The front door is broken, it wont open. So you gotta come up this way”. The stairs looked sketchy. Like… I’d rather walk across a fallen tree than up these stairs kinda sketchy. I imagine that’s all the trash juices and funk eating away at them. Eventually I muster up the testicular fortitude to get up those fucking stairs ending up in their house. This house wasn’t bad on the outside, and the inside wasn’t TERRIBLE, but my god.. The carpets. They’d never been vacuumed it looked like. EVER. We get set up and someone pops up from the basement and my coworkers stoner senses start tingling. “Hey…” he says. “Are you guys smoking down there?” The kid looks slightly taken back and says, “Uh yeah. You wanna smoke?” And that’s how I lost my coworker for about 20 minutes. I wasn’t upset, kinda hard to blame him honestly.
This is the part that stuck out to me. I’m finally getting to work and this lady can clearly hear all the debris flowing through our vacuum lines past her and out the door. It’s like the world’s most motherfuckingly violent rainstick. So this lady decided to try and help us by yelling at her kids to help clean up the carpet a bit for us.
They grabbed a broom. To sweep carpet. And it was effective. That’s how much debris was in it. And the worst part is everything came out great, I wanted it to look like shit so they’d have some motivation to vacuum their carpet at least once a year.
I had another debris house like this, but it was in an apartment on the first floor and the place had high pile carpet. When we walked in there it.. Didn’t look bad. It was white carpet and they had a kid, so there was a little bit of market and regular kid shit on the carpet. So we decided to come in through the window (big no-no. Don’t tell on me). We turn the machine on and instantly we hear it - it’s like we were cleaning up a cheerio and bracelet making kit factory explosion. It sounded like gravel. If our truck had blown up, it’d have been the worlds biggest claymore with the amount of STUFF we sucked up.
One thing I saw a lot were shit trails. Shit trails are the trails of shit from when people poop themselves in bed and try to make it to the bathroom leaving a whole trail of shit. Shit trails are more common than you think. It doesn’t matter where you are or how nice the area is - another shit trail is just around the corner.
I got a call to an old man's house by his daughter. It was a shit trail from his bed to his bathroom. "No big deal" I'd always tell myself. I did the job and upon finishing I went in to collect a payment. I went to talk to this man's daughter and the old man was sitting on the stairs. He yelled to me, "Hey! You like that present I left ya?! It sucks getting old!" I laughed, he laughed, then he gave me a bottle of wine. It's super embarrassing for it to happen, but I get it. As far as I'm concerned you never fully make it to adulthood until you poop your pants at least once.
The worst shit trail I came across was in a bit of a dirty town, so we kind of expect some funk as usual just like any other day. Oh but we were wrong. It’s like this guy planned this. We knock on the door and I say, “Hey! How are ya?” Now in life we all know this is not a real question, the only response is to say, ‘good, and you?’ But no, this fucker went rogue on me. This fucker had the audacity to say, “ughhh… not so good.”. Huge alarms are going off in my head. He’s in a bathrobe and looks disheveled, hasn’t shaved, and just looks like shit.
This was a small apartment. Bedroom, small kitchen, small Livingroom, and a bathroom in the hallway. As soon as I walk in I see stacks of empty pizza boxes, but on his coffee table I see three empty cans of Ravioli and one of them had a fork in it. This dude was eating Chef Boyardee Ravioli cold straight out of the can. No man does that unless they’re borderline suicidal or near death, that’s a special level of apathy. But this was not the area we were cleaning, and little did I know I wished it was. He started to bring me to the bedroom and I see it, a shit trail.
This was no ordinary shit trail, though. This man must have been working on cold Ravioli for days to create this mess he was about to bestow upon us. As I start following the shit trail it only gets bigger and bigger as we got closer to his bed. And he didn’t clean up any of it, he saved it for us. Right next to his bed was a large pile of shit, but we’re still not done. This dude never even made it to the bathroom in time. He left it all for us. I looked at his bed and noticed his what used to be white sheets were brown, yellow, with a tint of red for some reason. It was a shit massacre. So I backpedal a bit and tell him I gotta consult the boss.
I walk outside and my poor broken coworker started getting to work getting all the equipment ready for the storm. I call my boss to consult him, and by consult him I mean tell him “No fucking way, dude. Fuck no. no. Too much poop dude. It’s simply too much poop.” My boss basically told me to make the call. I told my coworker to put everything back, take the mask and gloves off, and we were getting the fuck out. I told this human bowel movement that it was a biohazard and to call someone else after cleaning up the solids. I felt bad, but fuck man I wasn’t making enough money for that shit.
Something we used to get were emergency calls for water damages. Sometimes I’d get a call real early in the morning or 11pm to go drive an hour and suck water out of something and do a little demotion. We got one call to a nearby office building on a very cold morning. This place was an old mill converted so it was simply massive. A sprinkler line froze overnight and ruptured causing the whole building to flood. 50,000 sqft of office space ruined. They were stacking mac pros like they were building a brick wall. It was a devastating amount of damage as far as I was concerned, and it took hours to suck up all that excess water. I believe I overheard someone say it was at least a million dollars in damage. I wanted to try and take a couple of those mac pros to make a good one but that wasn’t going to happen.
During fall it was always nice to go to certain areas of the state, one day in particular brought me to a custom house in a less urban area. It looked like a house built in the 60s but had a really cool feet to it. My customer was an older man that was super chill, the kind of guy you could just feel comfortable around. He was a professor at a prestigious college in my state so he was pretty quick and observant for a white haired man. He gave me the tour of his house and his dining room setup was so awesome. This guy had his floor cut out and recessed to drop a table in it and dropped the chandelier so the floor would act as a seat to the table. Super interesting to see, and I've never seen another like that. The next thing he showed me was his Vineyard. His personal Vineyard. He had a bunch of grape vines all growing and he’d make wine every year. He’d make some for his neighbors along with some better quality stuff for himself. He gave me a bottle and as soon as I got home I popped that sucker open to drown my sorrows. That man was a class act!
There was one area I hated to work in. It was super unpredictable. You either got the super duper nasty shit or you got the people that think they moved out of the hood because they have a house but they’re still hood and shitty, just entitled shitty hood. We were pretty far away from our shop and our boss told us to hang out and wait for our last job.. For two hours. In a shithole city.
“Fine” we said. And we immediately looked for a bar.
After a little searching we found a bar that was near us and open around 2pm. We hung out for a bit before we went in, but eventually we decided it was time for a drink or two, nothing too much. Just enough to make the time go by. Well we happened to find the darkest, dirtiest dive that clearly had the early bird special folks still working up the courage to face the day. The entire establishment was maybe 20 feet wide and 35 feet long, and the island bar took up most of it. My coworker and I sat down and ordered a whiskey ginger, my personal favorite. What we weren’t expecting was getting a drink poured by a bartender that seems to strictly serve alcoholics, so she was generous. Oh my good god was she generous. About three shots of whisky and a splash of ginger ale for $4. Best bargain I ever got in a bar. I got the first one down and as I wasn’t driving ordered another. And my girl poured it just like the first one, three shots of whiskey with a misting of ginger ale on top. Now normally I can handle my liquor but these went down so smooth and for so cheap I couldn’t help but drink them FAR too fast.
Finally we get the call from the boss, the customer is on their way to the job and we could finally go meet them. I slam down my drink and get going - my coworker is driving and I’m in the passenger seat ready to go. Now I don’t know how many of you have ever had to do physically intensive labor jobs while drunk… But it fucking sucks. I was useless. I was dragging my feet, bumping my shoulders in doorways, and I just was totally apathetic - and it being the end of the day didn’t help either as I’d already mentally checked out. My coworker basically did everything while I just hung out trying not to smell like liquor. 10/10 would recommend that bar, excellent prices and liberal pours. Avoid any responsibilities after visiting. Five stars.
In this business mold was something we’d just avoid at all costs. If we ever came across any moisture in basements or something we’d run. It was a pretty large beautiful house, and it had an off white carpet throughout the whole second floor where all the bedrooms were. The house smelled of urine, it wasn’t super strong, but it was definitely there. Eventually I get upstairs and I see it. Big huge urine spots on the carpet. This woman’s son was 22 years old and severely autistic, and sometimes he’d urinate on the floor in the middle of the night. I looked up at the air ducts and there was a small amount of mold, no bueno. I explained to her my situation and she didn’t seem to fight it much, I could see the defeat in her eyes, she looked tired. That look kind of cut through me and the words, “Well I’ll tell ya what…” fell out of my mouth. Of course I couldn’t walk away from this lady, so I did the job. I did everything I could think of to make the whole situation better and help her feel more comfortable at home. I felt the only thing I could do in that situation was help. If you can help someone you should help someone.
I had only been to a few hoarders houses, not that many and I assume it’s because the carpet is too covered to clean up. The one I remember best was an older house from the turn of the century, it was quant and halfway to a Victorian style. The carpet looked like it was used in a 1970s porno - you know the one. We saw what we had to do and I tried to do everything I could to give this lady the most bang for her buck. The whole house was paths. Piles floor to ceiling (or close to it) of boxes and junk throughout the whole house. The stairs had stuff stacked on it all over. I tried to move everything I could that seemed practical to the situation. I found plenty of plastic food containers with a bit of food in them, a bunch of unscratched scratch tickets, a brand new GPS still in the package, $78 cash, and a shitload of Klonopins all over the floor. I brought what I could to this lady and she said, “Oh good! I’ve been looking for those!”
It was a bit eye opening to me. It helped me realize that hoarding isn’t just someone who is messy, but it really a mental illness. This lady was unbelievably sweet and kind to us, she was just in a shitty situation and she couldn’t see it. After doing all I could I was taking payment and she said to me, “I keep getting ants this time every year and I just don’t understand why.”. She was totally separated from how she was living while living in it.
I worked in Conan O'brien's Brother’s house a couple times. His brother wasn’t there, but his wife was an absolute class act. A lot of times i’d listen to some pretty heavy metal to get myself amped up for all the work I’d have to do, yet I specifically remember ‘Uptown Girl’ being stuck in my head even though I was listening to Pantera for the past hour. Through their house there were little pictures of Conan in family settings and get-togethers, and I found that really interesting to see him out of the spotlight and in a family element. This loud boisterous and hilarious guy was just standing in a picture with an arm around another smiling. It made him seem a lot more human vs. the celebrity he is. I remember thinking how humble it was and I really enjoyed that. This woman was super sweet to me and very welcoming both times I was there - Those people are the best. Be nice, offer me water, and trust my work. That’s all I ask. She didn’t talk much about Conan, which I liked. It added a more human element to him as he was just seen as a Brother In Law. 10/10 would clean their carpets again.
An impressive house I worked in was the CEO’s of a pretty large chain in our area. He was not home so I dealt with the nanny, a cute girl around my age. The room I was cleaning was gargantuan. It was their gym. But the odd thing was that the vast majority of it was open floor space - all the gym equipment was lined up on the wall and that’s all the space it took. I asked if they were professional gymnasts or something as that was the only thing I could think of wanting that much floor space. As it turns out it used to be an Olympic size swimming pool… INDOORS. Apparently when this guy had his kid, he was concerned about them wandering off and potentially falling in the pool. So instead of a fence or cover (which he could absolutely afford), he decided to fill in his Olympic sized pool. It’s hard to explain how big of an undertaking that’d be, but it’s both a huge amount of manpower and equipment. I was blown away. I had to speak to this guy on the phone and all I remember taking from the conversation was, “This dude’s got Asperger's.”.
In a nicer town in my state I ended my day at a house that was in a nice neighborhood and rather quant… From the outside. Now I always liked going into houses that looked like they were lived in. An empty dish here or there, laptops open to YouTube watching how to play a Jews harp, Clothes out that still need to be folded, etc. They just seemed more human to me and that made me comfortable. But these people were just too comfortable. The upstairs seemed normal, but the task was the basement. As soon as I enter the basement it reeked of urine, usually that’s not a good sign. I get into the basement and their dog is shitting on the carpet all willy nilly and no one seems fazed by it. Their daughter is sitting on the floor doing homework while watching TV and the mom tells her to get out to let us do our thing. So everyone got right the fuck out. There was clothes strewn all over the place, dishes, laptops, books, furniture, you name it. My coworker and I were pissed. Not only did we have to clean this piss soaked carpet, but we had to pick up their clothes? Hell no. So being the end of the day and us being petty we decided to try to teach her a lesson - We took every single thing in that basement and stuffed it into her bathroom. Everything but the big furniture. All the chairs, tables, clothes, books, dishes, pillows, blankets, everything. We usually just move things to the side and put it back but… fuck that. I was willing to put in more effort just to express my ‘fuck you’ a little more.
We finished the job and told this lady that she wasn’t allowed to walk on the carpet for a day, (mind you that was their living room. TV, computers, etc. were all there) and that she couldn’t put the furniture back down for at least 24 hours rendering the bathroom useless if they did decide to go down there. It felt good to end that day being a petty asshole. The lesson here is to make sure your pets are housebroken. I understand accidents happen but… Jesus Christ.
The funny thing about bong water spills is how much people would try to tell me it was something else. Like when someone has something obscure stuck in their ass so they go to the E.R. saying they fell on it. If it is a guy in his late 20’s or something he’ll tell me his buddy knocked over the bong or whatever. But other people would mostly try to tell me they had abso-fucking-lutely no idea what it was or tell me it was tea. It’s fucking bong water, dude. It smells like what dirty weed would smell like if it peed out a fire. No one likes bullshit.
I always hated that. People lying about what I was working on. We had different chemicals for different reasons. Like if this is a cum stain on your couch, tell me. Let me know I should wear gloves and get the right chemical. Or don’t tell me you stepped in chocolate - it’s shit. That’s not tea you spilled, that’s pee. That or you drink some seriously funky artisan tea you god damn hipster. Or stop telling me that’s a stain when that’s obviously a burn mark from you smoking something. Also blood. Please fucking tell me it’s blood. Not that I'm grossed out, I just want to know what I’m injecting 600PSI of steam into making it an aerosol. I don’t care what you do or what happens in your house, just be real with me.
A lot of people would take the day off work in order to be home for us to come. Sometimes people would leave a key or something for us to just get to work as they trusted us, but I absolutely understand not wanting to do that. The think with taking a day off work to wait for us is that it’d either influence one of two thing - Something productive or day drinking. Usually it was something productive but there were certainly people who were shitfaced when I’d show up.
In another nice town I showed up to this guys house at around 6pm. He took the day off from work. It was not a productive day for him. His house was nice but my god he was drunk, and his wife was too drunk to stand up to greet us. He held on for dear life to show us the upstairs area and then we got started. He walked up to each of us and slid a $20 bill in our pockets going all the way balls deep into our front pockets until he decided to release the money to its new owner. Now already I earned that $20 by that happening. My favorite part was when he went to go back downstairs to try and gather himself a bit. He stumbled the whole way down like a newborn giraffe, an oddly quiet event for how much flailing was happening, but it was beautiful how he took it in stride.
Eventually I finished the job and went to leave. At this point he was too drunk to stand up so I just had him sign something then took up. I will admit, he was going to be happy as hell with the work and $40 poorer when we woke up the next day.
Gypsies were always something we were concerned about. They didn’t like to pay, so we’d always demand money upfront for the job. If they didn’t want to pay we’d leave. I went to one place that was labeled as residential but when when I got there it looked like a business. A palm reading business on a main road. Naturally I’m confused, but I knock anyways. They let me in and they were doubling up the business as their home. It was a very small place and I was brought into a bedroom by the daughter to meet mom. Mom was exactly like the mom from ‘what’s eating gilbert grape’. I was a little caught off guard but obviously didn’t show it - I’m a guest in their house after all, and why shouldn’t they live like they live in their own house? She was bedridden she was so large. She told me what she needed, had a very positive attitude, and was very kind. It was a sad situation as there were like three generations living in this small place. There’s nothing you can do to help either so it’s hard not to leave those places a little sad and upset with the whole situation. Sad because you can’t do anything, and upset because you had to experience it - it’s an odd group of emotions.
One hot summer day my coworker and I got a call to what seemed like a normal job. To clean a car. Now I’m a big dude so I just don’t fit in cars that well, you need to crawl around a lot. So we get to the job and we had permission to get right at the car sitting in the driveway. I’m standing about 30 feet back when my coworker gets there first and opened the door. Almost instantly I smell it. Someone forgot a gallon of milk in their car for months, and it finally ruptured. It was heinous. Thank god my coworker was a father and had dealt with these similar smells, he had the ability to turn off his brain and just work. I couldn’t get within 30 feet of this car. It was rancid. Imagine when your coworker microwaves fish, but instead of fish it’s just a turd. It was like that. The lesson here is to double check your back seat after grocery shopping. You may not have forgotten to buy milk after all.
The job is an absolute revolving door. There was a main core group of guys that stayed for years, but every summer it was like a swarm of locusts that would just show up to die. They were useless. While it wasn’t uncommon for kids to only last two weeks, we had one kid last until 10am on his first day before he got fired. This motherfucker was brave. He went to the first house on his first day - when they were met the customer the customer fucked up by saying, “Make yourself at home”. This fucking kid went in the kitchen and started making a fucking sandwich. If I could slow clap while facepalming I would.
I also did plenty of commercial jobs. One was at a factory… a sausage factory. So you bet your ass that every room I walked in I said, “It’s a real sausage fest in here!”. I’m sure the people there hated me but how often do you get that chance in life? Because of all the grease and meat stuff their carpet in the offices was filthy. It was terrible, but we had a chemical for that. One I had never used before and never wanted to use again. We referred to it as “Industrial”. Now everything we used I was able to identify by smell from opening the container, but this stuff was odorless. That was the first red flag I ignored. I diluted it as needed and started to pretreat everything. I believe it was a Saturday morning so no one was really there. We let everything sit a bit to work and got to work. Now I rarely would wear an N95 mask as the humidity from steam cleaning makes it too difficult to breathe, so I was spraying this stuff on the carpet with no mask. I eventually went to the bathroom and caught a look at myself in the mirror. Blood was running down my face from my nose and I had no idea. At that point I decided to go outside and get some air - it was a cold winter day so maybe it was from dry air, but I never get nose bleeds. Ever. I wore a mask from then on around the stronger stuff.
Working in richer areas would sometimes yield interesting tips from people. I had a guy that worked for a shoe company give me a trash bag of new shoes. I had a woman give me a huge wool oriental carpet. I’ve gotten a Hope Chest. One of my favorites was this little brightly colored hand painted Armadillo that I named ‘Shoelace’ (he hangs out next to my bed). I once walked up to a customers house and the customer said (referring to a car in his driveway) “Watch out for that piece of shit!” to which I responded, “If you think it’s a piece of shit I’ll take it!” So this dude walks in the house, grabs the title, signs it and hands it to me. I was blown away by this. Later that day I got a tow truck there and brought it to a shop to check it out. The rear end and subframe was just gone, it wasn’t worth saving to me even though it was 64k miles. But it was still one of my favorite tips.
Another cool one was when I was working in a nice condo complex not too far from the city. This lady was really nice and down to earth and while I was working she asked, ‘What size shoe are you?”
“12w or 13” I said.
“Perfect”
She walked away and comes back with a pair of brand new Air Max’s - Sweet! She then says, “#26 from the (local NBA team) is my neighbor and he gave me these. I don’t know what the fuck to do with them so they’re yours now.” They weren’t signed or anything, but still it was super fucking cool! I still have those shoes in my closet six years later - I have dummy thicc feet so they don’t fit, but it’s still a really fucking cool thing.
Sometimes my brother and I would talk about what people own in their houses that represents them ‘making it’. I always said ‘movie theater room’. I’ve seen a lot of these - a dark room with a projector and awesome sound system. Staged seating with black recliners on it to relax and watch a movie and a popcorn machine in the corner. Super cool stuff! Now that is something I could see spending some money on, the thing I don’t get is ‘aesthetic’. People spend unbelievable amounts of money for a certain look, and I don’t understand it. While working in one woman’s house this lady pointed at her area rug. It was an 8x10 wool area rug. Black, blue, and purple all fading together. It looked like a giant bruise - Hideous.
“I spent $8k on that area rug and my dogs wont stop peeing on it!” she said.
I had a knee jerk reaction. I couldn’t control what came out of my mouth. “$8k?! What is wrong with you?!” That was more than the debt I had and sucked at managing, and it’s a fucking pee pad to her. I calmed myself down along with her, and did the shop talk bullshit with her.
In another instance I had to pick up an area rug to clean. I got back to the shop to do it and noticed the price tag was still on the back. $34,000. For an 8x10. Bookoo bucks.
Horny housewives were few and far between, but they did exist. I’ve had several just watch me work for no other reason but what I assume is a pool boy fantasy thing. I even had one woman bring my coworker and I towels on a very hot day saying, ‘Once you're done feel free to jump in the pool out back’. I wont lie, we both got down to our underwear and jumped in and it felt amazing. Some guys even kept swimsuits in their trucks incase this happened, but it only happened to me a couple times.
One woman was extremely forward. She was a younger single mom in her mid 30’s I’d say and I was about 25 at the time. She kept coming in to do menial tasks wherever I was working in her place. Close to the end when I was finishing up I was cleaning her couch which can get the floor wet from all mist spraying everywhere. She came in and grabbed something by the couch and I said, “Careful, I don’t want to get you wet.”.
And loud enough for my other coworker to hear she said without missing a beat, “It’s okay if it’s not with that hose”.
Now I’m the kind of guy that always has something to say. I have a relatively quick wit and am a total smartass. But this? My mouth was agape. I didn’t know what to say and she just walked away. The time comes where I finish the job and I need to go in and get paid. I’m excited - I’m ready to write to Penthouse. As I walk in my coworker yells, “Have fun fucking *coworkers name*”. At this point I guess I only noticed her body, as I was only 25. When I walked in I looked at her face and she had the exact face as my 19 year old boyish coworker. The moment was ruined. I was shattered. My moment was gone, I was all ready to tell my buddies and everyone how irresistible I was. Her and I quietly go through the motions of me taking her money and you could cut the tension with a knife. My heart rate was elevated but my little man was not. I eventually left and tried to leave the hormones at the door but I was visibly pissed/bummed out.
“Maybe Next time, champ.” my coworker said as I got into the van.
Asshole.
These are a group of mini stories.
One of my coworkers had a horse walk into a house while he was working. One of my coworkers got shot at with a bb gun while he was driving through a neighborhood. A coworker had an instance where a cat died from curiously sniffing the 3" gas powered vacuum line and it got it's face sucked in once the vacuum was turned on. I cleaned a coke dealers house, and everything was white and glass - I found a rolled up $20 under his couch and kept it. He paid us in cash. I worked in a guys house whose son was a pretty big weed dealer and the guy tipped us an 1/8th each after we found large paper bags of weed, like hush money lol. I've had people get me drunk while I'm working. I once fell asleep in a person's basement after I moved some furniture and sat on it. My coworker let me sleep for the whole job then woke me up when he finished the whole house by himself. I’ve pulled out countless vibrators from under beds or nightstands. I’ve found weed in tons of teenager’s rooms - but I’m hip and cool so I always put it back and hide it a little better. I had a crackhead try to sell me a brand new TV he stole for $40 at a gas station - I passed. A woman once flashed me while driving by me on the highway - that was a good day. A coworker was scrubbing and scrubbing this filthy dark carpet for about 20 minutes in the same spot until it ripped - only it didn’t rip; there was so much dog hair that he thought the dog hair WAS the carpet. I worked in an Astronaut’s house, he was traveling for work (on earth), but there were pictures of him in space along with framed patches from his uniforms on the wall. One man had a beautiful 16th century French Armoire in his living room. The script “Soup Nazi” was framed on the wall in a customer’s house, that was super cool.
We had a commercial job at a gymnastics facility. They were closed so it was just us, four of us. I went up to the person in charge and asked, “So… If one of us were to ACCIDENTALLY fall into the foam pit, would that be frowned upon?” She laughed and said no. After they left we worked for about 45 minutes and played in the foam pit for two hours. Flips off trampolines, throwing each other, swinging into the pit, it was like we were 10 years old again! The next week my boss called me into his office.
“Remember that Gymnastic place you did?”
“Yeah.” I replied.
“They checked the cameras.” he said.
“Oh…”
“Yeah. Don’t pull that bullshit again.”
I once went to a man’s house whose last name was “Swartz”, already I’m excited. I got there and he was just as you’d expect him to be. White haired older jewish man who was absolutely hilarious. He had awesome art and just stuff all over his walls, there was a lot but it looked great. I went into his bedroom. Dead center on his bed was a VHS of “SpaceBalls”. Naturally I start cracking up, grab the movie and the customer sees me do this. He said, “I was at the library and it was free so I took it. I’ve never seen it!” So I laughed harder.
As I write these I keep remembering more, but I’m going to stop here for now. It was an awful job but I got a lot of stories out of it. Every one of my old coworkers have similar stories to these as well. When we’d get back to the shop at the end of the day we’d all swap stories and it was always fucked up.

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