The Purest Form
By: G Wayne
Copyright © 09/05/05
Chapter 10: ------------------ He works for peanuts! :

"Hey, Ned. So what do you think of my play room?" Zack asked with a big smile and a look of pride that made you think, "Yep, just another big kid."

"Ah, what?" I replied as I returned from my Joe Tuma daydream.

Zack looked at me with knitted eyebrows, but he was still smiling. "Soooo, what do ya think?"

"Oh, um, the Dark Star is truly awesome. I just never experienced anything this nice before," I said, having no idea how to describe how I felt about this magnificent vessel.

Zack looked pleased. "I'm glad you like it, Ned. It's the only place I feel at home. Hey partner, how about a drink? I have this bottle of scotch that's been waiting about eighty years for us to tear into it."

I nodded. "Sounds good to me!" I said while eyeing the snooker table.

Zack became serious and concerned. "So, have you ever played snooker?"

I said yes and proceeded to tell the Tuma story.

Zack was amused with my truculent childhood. "Well, maybe later I'll give you a chance to win your two bucks back." He walked over to the bar, and I followed. Behind the bar was Emma. She had a reserved and congenial smile on her face, but something about her suggested she was enjoying herself more than she was letting on. She was peeling a lemon, possibly for the gigantic martini sitting in front of Mr. Rodney "Bullets" McKenzie, who never had any problem expressing the fact that he was having a good time.

At the end of the bar was a very strange looking man. Now, to be strange at this party was not an easy task considering the array of characters present. I know what you're thinking, if there were any unusual or socially undesirable people at this party, I probably invited them. Well, too bad. Board sailors may be unusual people but they're my friends, most of them. You wouldn't believe it, but some people think that I'm unusual. Okay, some people think I'm down right weird, but they mostly live in Cleveland. Need I say more?

Getting back to the guy at the end of the bar. I don't know why he seemed so strange. He was wearing a nice sporty jacket, although a little too big. But it was a nice shade of blue with darker blue pinstriping. And they went in a snappy diagonal pattern, real snappy. Actually, the jacket was baggy. He did have on a nice pair of black slacks; I think they were black fatigue pants. But they were congruent with his black suede combat boots. They were baggy too, the slacks that is. He was drinking a glass of what looked like a very thick, dark beer, or some sort of foamy cough medicine, and in front of him was a small pile of peanuts. He had separated the peanuts into half sections and he was stacking them into two columns. I never saw anything like it. As we approached, he was placing the last peanut, joining two peanut columns to make a peanut arch. It was about six peanuts high, and two peanuts wide. He pulled his hands away and . . . and the arch remained standing! It was amazing! There on the bar, was a little peanut arch that appeared to be defying gravity. Everybody including me, Ned Legrev, was staring speechlessly at the peanuts. I could see that Zack wanted to say hi, but he didn't want to screw up the peanuts. Even Bullets was frozen. That may have been the first time Bullets stopped moving since he was born! This goober-induced trance was strong medicine and it had control of us all. The peanut whisperer smiled as he gazed over his audience. He stopped when he got to Zack. I didn't notice any real change in expression; he just sort of stared at Zack.

Zack, on the other hand, with his eyes darting back and forth between the ungreeted guest and the peanuts, was obviously having trouble deciding whether to be a good host or to miss the inevitable fall of the peanuts.

The nut guy made the opening gambit with a cordial, but terse, "Hi, Zack. How are you?"

Zack, with one eye on the arch, turned on a ten-dollar smile and said, "Hey Nick, never seen you do that before; in fact, I've never seen anybody do that!"

The peanut perfectionist politely patronized, "You know old buddy, I always try to come up with something new for every time I come aboard the Dark Star."

Bullets, overcome with the whole situation, declared, "Man, I've never seen anything like that, I can't believe my own eyes. Those nuts hold like they're magnets!" As he leaned over for a closer look, he bumped into the railing. The barroom architect just sipped his drink while everyone else breathlessly anticipated the fall of the nuts-but they didn't fall! Demonstrating how stable his structure was, he slammed his glass onto the bar and a chorus of gasps rang out. Yet, the arch still remained intact. Even Emma decided to get into the act when she placed an electric blender on the bar and filled it with ice as if she were going to make a Margarita or something, and cranked it up to earthquake speed. And ne'er a nut was nudged.

I certainly was impressed and complimented the man with, "You sir, are a great engineer." All of a sudden, a colorful blur appeared which turned out to be Emma's parrot Poopchute. It landed on the arch screaming "Arrk, gimme peanuts, gimme peanuts," with such an enthusiastic voice, Jimmy Carter would have been proud . . . and the arch...
What is Emma's peanut popping parrot about to do?

Does the bird have issues because its name is Poopchute?

And who is this dapper and dexterous denizen of the Dark Star?

Could diagonal pinstripes become the next fashion craze?

YOU can find the answers to these questions and have hours of fun, (depending on how fast you read) by getting
The Purest Form, available now from those fine androids at
Amazon Books for the low, low price of $12.37.

Also, if you are lazy like me, G Wayne, you can listen to
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(Also available from
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