Mayonnaise of the Sahara - Flash Forward, Flashback Part I (507 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 2 on 23 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Ess2s2 (View user info) at 2008-10-02 07:08:56 EDT
This is a special engagement, probably limited only to three or four parts at most. I understand that most people won't get this, and many of the original fans of this series will have long since moved on, but I figured I would give this a shot anyway. The style has changed dramatically, and a lot of this is connective tissue to the older parts of the story as well as to the new pieces that are forthcoming, but I hope you can allow me a couple of concessions at this advanced juncture.
Enjoy.
Previous installments:
http://www.ubersite.com/cgi-bin/message_get.cgi?message=1062635177905522136 Part 1
http://www.ubersite.com/cgi-bin/message_get.cgi?message=1062748979222113775 Part 2
http://www.ubersite.com/cgi-bin/message_get.cgi?message=1063093655797928792 Part 3
http://www.ubersite.com/cgi-bin/message_get.cgi?message=106325068434748972 Part 4
http://www.ubersite.com/cgi-bin/message_get.cgi?message=1066782865756926990 Part 5
http://www.ubersite.com/m/18270 Part 6
http://www.ubersite.com/m/21708 Part 7
http://www.ubersite.com/m/22302 Part 8
http://www.ubersite.com/m/25827 Part 9
http://www.ubersite.com/m/26827 Part 10
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"There's no mustard in the fridge." I intoned, hoping for a helpful response from the living room. I waited, hunched over in the light from the refrigerator, head cocked upward to catch the faintest reply from two rooms away. Nothing. I straightened up, and with a sigh of resignation swung the fridge door closed. Walking out of the kitchen toward the sound of the television, I mumbled my frustration under my breath. Mayo was watching reruns of the A-Team. B.A. Baracus was fighting with Face and Murdock about getting on a plane again and I settled my arm on the back of the couch for a moment to watch. "Dude, is there any mustard left?" I asked Mayo. After a moment, Mayo finally indicated the mustard was in the cupboard.
"The cupboard? Dude, that shit's supposed to be refrigerated or it gets all runny." Mayo ignored me and watched in silence as Mr. T's character struggled against his teammates. I shuffled back into the kitchen and rummaged briefly through the cupboards before finally finding the mustard. I shook it and was dismayed as the contents sloshed around inside the bottle with a bit too much ease. I looked down at the sandwich I had been putting together, I leaned on the countertop and suddenly felt a strange feeling pass over me. All at once I could feel the heat of that godforsaken desert beating down on me, I could hear the whine of the blackhawk drowning out the commanding voice of the 5th SFG soldier telling me to follow him and stay low. I could suddenly feel the hot sand kicking into my face and stinging my eyes as the stony-faced lad urged me towards the waiting helicopter. I chanced a look back at our cell and saw other soldiers helping the ragged remains of our group, which had originally numbered at 7 and had, by the time we got rescued, had dwindled down to three. I remembered the shaky ride home, for the first time in months drinking water that wasn't fetid and sour with bacteria, and the look on Mayo and Otter's faces. I suppose if I had had a mirror I would have seen it on my own face as well; we had changed. As the helicopter buzzed slowly back to base, we all looked uneasily at one another, feeling defeat, relief, and a strange mixture of shame and anger. Nobody wanted to talk about it, and the soldiers who had pulled us out of there didn't seem to be in the mood for conversation, so we sat in silence, listening to the chop of the rotors and the whine of the engines, and wondering what we would be like once we woke up amid civilization once again.
Slowly, my mind swam back up out of the haze of the past, and I could hear the A-Team theme song punching dutifully out of the television. I grabbed the halves of my sandwich, slapped them together without bothering about the mustard and wolfed it down right at the sink, pausing only long enough to fish a soda out of the fridge. We had changed that day alright, and we had never stopped changing, like meat left out to rot we had slowly and steadily lost our color, our lust for life. I hadn't really bothered to keep in touch with Otter, and Mayo only stayed with me because his time in the sand had crippled him and he had to have a caretaker. I didn't like the idea, and I'm sure Mayo hated it, but we were stuck since there had been no one else. Otter went his own way, and I know Mayo would have sooner been thrown in the trash than have some fat, brainless government-appointed nurse hold him up in the shower.
Still, it was tough on both of us, partly because it was just a shitty arrangement, but mostly because our relationship as friends had never been the same after the desert. There was an intrinsic understanding of our situation, but it only made things worse. At times I loathed Mayo for making it back alive. I hated him for being dependent on me, for having survived because I had kept him alive. I never told anyone, but I hated myself for keeping him alive. And now there was a rift between us, a wedge that drove itself deeper everyday, a nagging knowledge that if I had left him to die, no one would have cared, much less begrudged me for it, and my life would have been easier.
Yeah, mostly it was that.
**
Every couple of weeks or so I would take the car, go down to Fourth Avenue and H Street and pick up a companion. It's not that I was hideous, or that I had lost a limb to gangrene or torture or anything. It was my attitude; I was a fucking asshole, and I knew it. I found out the first couple of months back, after I had recovered. Going to bars and clubs was useless. All my wit and charm had stayed in that shithole jail cell in the middle of the desert, and all potential dates steered far clear of my path. After a while, I said fuck it, and started setting aside cash for hookers. It was cheaper than going to a club, and they never cared about my shitty attitude. I paid them, they fucked me, I went home and made Mayo his fucking TV dinners and went to bed, most of the time listening to Miami Vice or The A-Team coming from the living room. One whore in particular seemed to turn more of my tricks than the others, she was a caramel-flavored mama with big tits and a husky voice drenched in cigarettes and vicoden.
"You back around again honey?" She would ask as she leaned in my window. Her breasts, barely restrained by a two-sizes-too-small halter top would rest against my doorsill and the smell of her drugstore perfume would fill the interior of my car, leaving me with a sickly pleasant feeling. I would nod my head and hold out a pair of twenties. She would snatch them away before opening my door and climbing in. I would pull around to an alleyway known to the working gals as "No Five-Oh" and I would get my money's worth. Sometimes, afterward, I would tell her about my week. She never seemed impatient, or tried to get moving so she could turn some more tricks. She always listened intently, sometimes nodding or laughing over a little thing I had said. I suppose she figured it was just another part of the job, that her Johns sometimes wanted someone to talk to, and thinking about it, I suppose that's right on the money. I hadn't had a real conversation with Mayo in months, and I hadn't really sat down and talked with anyone outside the house since I had had to go to the VA for an interview over my benefits. The more I thought about it, the more I realized Brown Sugar was really my only outlet, she was just as much therapist as she was prostitute, and even though it could have been the money I was spending on her, she really seemed to care. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that without her to talk to, I probably would have offed myself a long time ago. Funny how shit like that can sneak up on you, not many people can say they owe their life to a hooker. Then again, not many people can say they're best friends with a jar of mayonnaise either, so I guess I'm sort of unique.
It wasn't long before I started to need the validation of Brown Sugar's attention, and I started seeing her more often, up to two or three times in a week. I found my motivation was steadily being less and less motivated by sex, and more of my visits were nothing more than us talking about a whole lot of nothing. On the one hand, I didn't have to worry about getting caught in the act by a couple of bored cops, but I was spending forty bucks every time I wanted to tell someone about having to drive across town for Hungryman dinners because the local market was out. Finally, one night, I left Mayo dozing on the couch in front of an episode of M*A*S*H* and headed out, once again determined to spend $40 of my government restitution check on idle conversation. When I got to the usual corner, Brown Sugar wasn't around, it wasn't that unusual, so I pulled up to one of the other tricks and asked if she had taken the night off.
"Baby, she got picked up by the fuzz about two days ago," The rail thin girl told me, "they got her locked up on solicitation charges. She ain't gettin' out on her own and her pimp refuses to spring her."
"Who's her pimp?" I asked, hoping the man would listen to reason, or at least to a reasonable amount of money.
"His name's Flash, he hangs out near Wo Hung Seoul Market a couple blocks up. He's got a gold car. Can't miss it if you tried." The trick was looking up and down the street impatiently as she spoke, she obviously decided I wasn't going to make her any money and was hoping I would go away before she lost out on any Johns. I waved my thanks and pulled away.
As I pulled around the corner of Sixth, the first thing I saw was the gold metallic fleck '68 Impala. The second thing I saw was the ornately dressed white man leaning against it, showing his apparent defiance of the city's anti-loitering laws. I eased my car alongside as he watched me intently. I rolled my window down and leaned out.
"You Flash?" I asked. He cocked his head to the side like a dog before responding.
"Who the fuck wants to know?"
"Well, I was in the mood for some entertainment and was hoping for a specific date, I heard you were her man and I was wondering if you could help me find her." I smiled weakly, hoping he was the helpful sort. He relaxed visibly, sensing an opportunity to make some money and came to my car.
"I bet you lookin' for Danisha, she got picked up by da po-po couple 'a days back." I nodded, still smiling, hating this wigger low-life fuck with all my being. I also quietly hated myself for having inadvertently financed him for so long.
"Are you gonna help her out of the slammer?" I asked, already having a pretty good idea of the answer. Flash laughed a long hearty laugh and shook his head.
"Naw, I ain't got time or bills for some dumb bitch that can't keep out of jail. I got enough girls out here makin' me money, don't need to waste any springing some deadbeat whore. If she gets out, she gets out, if she doesn't, fuck her." Flash the white pimp threw his hands up as if to say that was the way it was, it was the gospel truth and praise Jeebus. "Now you got any other business? Cause I can hook you up with a girl that'll make you forget all about Danisha."
"No, that's all I wanted to know." I replied and pulled away. I looked in my rearview mirror and saw Flash staring at me as he loped back to his position beside his car. As I drove home, I got an increasingly urgent need to bail Brown Sugar out.
**
When I got home, the need to bail out my favorite hooker-slash-shrink was pulsing in my head and I was already planning ways to come up with the bail money. I walked into the living room to check on Mayo when all of a sudden I froze. Cold tingles ran up and down my body as I stared at a man I hadn't seen in almost three years sitting on my couch. He was grizzled and weather-beaten, just as he always had been, but there was a new hardness about him, as if the years had added to his stony nature instead of eroding it away. Otter and Mayo looked up at me in unison and all at once I could see that they had been talking about some heavy shit, heavy shit that directly involved me.
"Long time no see Otter, what brings you to our neck of the woods?" I asked, trying to be casual about seeing a ghost of a man who had worked so hard to pull me and my friend out of a living hell. Otter considered me for a moment, looked at Mayo, then looked at me again for a long time before finally swallowing hard.
"We're going back."
User Reviews
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2008-10-04 12:47:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
well, well, well!
Submitted by Ainkara (user info) at 2008-10-04 11:53:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Have another, I've just read the others... although I have to say, I like this one more. The others seem a little... abstract maybe? I figured Mayo was just a nickname, not an actual jar of mayo.
Submitted by Ainkara (user info) at 2008-10-04 11:20:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Oh wow. I think I might have to read the other parts now.
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2008-10-04 02:12:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Fuck me running...
You better e-mail you asshole!!!
Submitted by hellish (user info) at 2008-10-04 02:08:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2008-10-03 09:28:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Part 11
Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2008-10-03 09:28:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Part 10
Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2008-10-03 09:27:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Part 9
Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2008-10-03 09:27:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Part 8
Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2008-10-03 09:27:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Part 7
Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2008-10-03 09:27:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Part 6
Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2008-10-03 09:27:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Part 5
Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2008-10-03 09:27:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Part 4
Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2008-10-03 09:26:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Part 3
Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2008-10-03 09:26:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Part 2
Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2008-10-03 09:26:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Part 1
Submitted by haikumikoo (user info) at 2008-10-02 15:21:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This +2 is to encourage you to vote Astley.
http://ema.mtv.co.uk/vote/#__best_act_ever
Now do it.
Submitted by write-of-way (user info) at 2008-10-02 15:21:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
First round voting ends Friday at midnight!
Give them a read even if they won by forfeit, there's some really good stuff.
icarus1987: Gargoyle http://www.ubersite.com/m/118950
vs
Impassive-Digressive: The Gargoyle http://www.ubersite.com/m/118922
stardamage: Floorboards http://www.ubersite.com/m/118960
vs
Ahumblefool: Floorboards http://www.ubersite.com/m/118981
Fungah: Like Unto Stone http://www.ubersite.com/m/119028
vs
JoeyG: Heartstarter http://www.ubersite.com/m/119012
inion_de_trua: the blizzard http://www.ubersite.com/m/119033
vs
Jack_McCallum: The Blizzard http://www.ubersite.com/m/118987
Hornet: The Nest http://www.ubersite.com/m/118982
vs
Gonefiguring: The Nest http://www.ubersite.com/m/119029
Brian_Johns: The Unspoken http://www.ubersite.com/m/118961
Brdn_Nkd: Under Glass http://www.ubersite.com/m/118973
Squirrelly_Girl: Who Killed the Chokomut Loving Zombie and Why? http://www.ubersite.com/m/118945
Snark: Brick by Brick http://www.ubersite.com/m/119032
Whiskeyjack: Needles http://www.ubersite.com/m/118983
Desz: Duel http://www.ubersite.com/m/118989
Sandmantate: Burning Eyes http://www.ubersite.com/m/118997
NintendoCzar: Made to be Broken http://www.ubersite.com/m/119021
Frankthebear: Pearls Of Wisdom http://www.ubersite.com/m/118941
Submitted by Replen (user info) at 2008-10-02 14:28:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Went back and read from part 1; it was worth it. Excellent stuff.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2008-10-02 13:15:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2008-10-02 12:04:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Probably very funny.
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2008-10-02 09:25:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
too good for shiny noobs like that jeannee character to be able to read
Submitted by Littlebint (user info) at 2008-10-02 09:24:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
too good for here.