MA08 Myth-Nomers and Im-Pervections

by Robert Asprin

  I don’t know how long I walked before Kalvin’s plea snapped me out of my mental wheel-spinning. I had only vague recollections of shouldering my way past slower-moving pedestrians and snarling at those who were quick enough to get out of my path on their own. The police would have been pleased to witness it ... only on Perv two days and already I could walk down the street like a native.

  “Look, do you want to talk about this? Maybe some place sitting down?”

  I looked closer at the Djin. He really did look tired, his face streaked with sweat and his little chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Strange, I didn’t feel like I had been exerting myself at all.

  “Talk about what?” I said, realizing as I spoke that the words were coming out forced and tense.

  “Come on, Skeeve. It’s obvious that what the Butterfly said back there has you upset. I don’t know why, it sounded like pretty good advice to me, but maybe talking it out would help a bit.”

  “Why should I be upset?” I snapped. “He only challenged all the priorities I’ve been living by and suggested that my best friend is probably the worst thing in my life. Why should that bother me?”

  “It shouldn’t,” Kalvin responded innocently, “unless, of course, he’s right. Then I could see why it would bother you.”

  I opened my mouth for an angry retort, then shut it again. I really couldn’t think of anything to say. The Djin had just verbalized my worst fears, ones I didn’t have any answers for.

  “ ... And running away from it won’t help! You’re going to have to face up to it before you’re any good to yourself ... or anyone else, for that matter.”

  Kalvin’s voice came from behind me, and I realized I had picked up my pace again. At the same moment, I saw that he was right. I was trying to run away from the issues, both figuratively and literally. With that knowledge, the fatigue of my mental and physical efforts hit me all at once and I sagged, slowing to a stop on the sidewalk.

  “That’s better. Can we talk now?”

  “Sure. Why not? I feel like getting something in my stomach, anyway.”

  The Djin gave a theatrical wince.

  “Ootch! You mean we’re going to try to find a restaurant again? Remember what happened the last time?”

  In spite of myself I had to smile at his antics.

  “As a matter of fact, I was thinking more on the order of getting something to drink.”

  While I spoke, I was casting about for a bar. One thing about Perv I had noticed, you never seemed to be out of sight of at least one establishment that served alcoholic beverages. This spot proved to be no exception, and now that I was more attuned to my environment, I discovered just such a place right next to where we were standing.

  “This looks like as good a spot as any,” I said, reaching for the door. “C’mon, Kalvin, I’ll buy the first round.”

  It was meant as a joke, because I hadn’t seen the Djin eat or drink anything since I released him from the bottle. He seemed quite agitated at the thought, however, hanging back instead of moving with me.

  “Wait, Skeeve, I don’t think we should ... ”

  I didn’t dally to hear the rest. What the heck, this had been his idea ... sort of. Fighting a sudden wave of irritation, I pushed on into the bar’s interior.

  At first glance, the place looked a little seedy. Also the second and third glances, though it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. It was small, barely big enough to hold the half-dozen tiny tables that crowded the floor. Sagging pictures and clippings adorned the walls, though what they were about specifically I couldn’t tell through the grime obscuring their faces. There was a small bar with stools along one wall, where three tough-looking patrons crouched, hunched forward in conversation with the bartender. They ceased talking and regarded me briefly with cold, unfriendly stares as I surveyed the place, though whether their hostility was because I was a stranger or because I was from off-dimension I wasn’t sure. It did occur to me that I was still wearing my disguise spell business suit which definitely set me apart from the dark, weather-beaten outfits the other patrons wore almost like a uniform. It also occurred to me that this might not be the wisest place to have a quiet drink.

  “I think we should get out of here, Skeeve.”

  I don’t know when Kalvin rejoined me, but he was there hovering at my side again. His words echoed my own thoughts, but sheer snorkiness made me take the opposite stance.

  “Don’t be a snob, Kalvin,” I muttered. “Besides, sitting down for a while was your idea, wasn’t it?

  Before he could answer, I strode to one of the tables and plopped down in a seat, raising one hand to signal the bartender. He ignored it and returned to his conversation with the other drinkers.

  “C’mon, Skeeve. Let’s catch a cab back to the hotel and have our conversation there,” Kalvin said, joining me. “You’re in no frame of mind to start drinking. It’ll only make things worse.”

  He made a lot of sense. Unfortunately, for the mood I was in, he made too much sense.

  “You heard the Butterfly, Kalvin. I’ve been letting too many other people run my life by listening to their well-meaning advice. I’m supposed to start doing what I want to do more often ... and what I want to do right now is have a drink ... here.”

  For a moment I thought he was going to argue with me, but then he gave a sigh and floated down to sit on the table itself.

  “Suit yourself,” he said. “I suppose everyone’s entitled to make a jackass out of themselves once in a while.”

  “What’ll it be?”

  The bartender was looming over my table, saving me from having to think of a devastating comeback for Kalvin’s jibe. Apparently, now that he had established that he wouldn’t come when summoned, he wanted to take my order.

  “I’ll have ... ”

  Suddenly, a glass of wine didn’t feel right. Unfortunately, my experience with drinks was almost as limited as my experience with members of the opposite sex.

  “ ... Oh, just give me a round of whatever they’re drinking at the bar there.”

  The bartender gave a grunt that was neither approving nor disapproving and left, only to return a few moments later with a small glass of liquid which he slammed down on the table hard enough for some of the contents to slop over the edge. I couldn’t see it too clearly, but it seemed to be filled with an amber fluid with bubbles in it that gathered in a froth at the top.

  “Ya gotta pay by the round,” he sneered, as if it were an insult.

  I fished a handful of small change out of my pocket and tossed it on the table, reaching for the glass with the other hand.

  Now, some of you might be wondering why I was so willing to experiment with a strange drink after everything I’ve been saying about food on Perv. Well, truth to tell, I was sort of hoping this venture would end in distaste. You see, by this time I had cooled off enough to acknowledge that Kalvin was probably right about going back to the hotel, but I had made such a big thing out of making an independent decision that changing my mind now would be awkward. Somewhere in that train of thought, it occurred to me that if this new drink made me sick, I would have an unimpeachable reason for reversing my earlier decision. With that in mind, I raised the glass to my lips and took a sip.

  The icy burst that hit my throat was such a surprise that I involuntarily took another swallow ... and another. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was after my brisk walk until I hit the bottom of the glass without setting it down or taking a breath. Whatever this stuff was, it was absolutely marvelous, and the vaguely bitter aftertaste only served to remind me I wanted more.

  “Bring me another of these,” I ordered the bartender, who was still sorting through my coins. “And can you bring it in a larger container?”

  “I could bring you a pitcher,” he grumbled.

  “Perfect ... and pull a little extra th
ere for your trouble.”

  “Say ... thanks.”

  The bartender’s mood and opinion of me seemed to have improved as he made his way to the bar. I congratulated myself for remembering what Edvik had said about tipping.

  “I suppose it would be pushy to try to point out that you’re drinking on an empty stomach,” the Djin said drily.

  “Not at all,” I grinned.

  For once I was ahead of him and raised my voice to call the bartender.

  “Say! Could you bring me some of that popcorn while you’re at it?”

  Most of the bar snacks that were laid out seemed to be in mesh-covered containers to keep them from crawling or hopping away. Amidst these horrors, however, I had spotted a bin of popcorn when I came in, and had made special note of it, thinking that at least some forms of junk food appeared to be the same from dimension to dimension.

  “Happy now?”

  “I’d be happier if you picked something that was a little less salty,” Kalvin grimaced, “but I suppose it’s better than nothing.”

  The bartender delivered my pitcher along with a basket of popcorn, then wandered off to greet some new patrons who had just wandered in. I tossed a handful of the popcorn into my mouth and chewed it while I refilled my glass from the pitcher. It was actually more spicy than salty, which made me revise some of my earlier thoughts about the universality of junk food, but I decided not to mention this discovery to Kalvin. He was fussing at me enough already.

  “So, what do you want to talk about?” I said, forcing myself not to immediately wash down the popcorn with a long drink from the glass.

  The Djin leaned back and cocked an eyebrow at me.

  “Well, your mood seems to have improved, but I was under the impression you might want to talk about the Butterfly’s advice this afternoon.”

  As soon as he spoke, my current bubble of levity popped and my earlier depression slammed into me like a fist. Without thinking I drained half the contents of my glass.

  “I don’t know, Kalvin. I’ve got a lot of respect for the Butterfly, and I’m sure he meant well, but what he said has raised a lot of questions in my mind ... questions I’ve never really asked myself before.”

  I topped off my glass casually, hoping the Djin wouldn’t notice how fast I was drinking the stuff.

  “Questions like ... ?”

  “Well, like ... What are friends ... really? On the rare occasions the subject comes up, all people seem to talk about is the need to be needed. All of a sudden I’m not sure I know what that means.”

  Somehow, my glass had gotten empty again. I refilled it as I continued.

  “The more I look at it, the more I think that if you really need your friends, it’s either a sign of weakness or laziness. You either need or want people to do your thinking for you, or your fighting for you, or whatever. Things that by rights you should be able to do for yourself. By rights, that makes you a parasite, existing by leeching off other people’s strength and generosity.”

  I started to take a drink and realized I was empty. I suspected there was a leak in the glass, but set it aside, resolving to let it sit there for a while before I tried refilling it again.

  “On the other hand, if you don’t need your friends, what good are they? Friends take up a big hunk of your time and cause a lot of heartache, so if you don’t really need them, why should you bother? In a sense, if they need you, then you’re encouraging them into being parasites instead of developing strength on their own. I don’t know. What do you think, Kalvin?”

  I gestured at him with my glass, and realized it was full again. So much for my resolve. I also realized the pitcher was almost empty.

  “That’s a rough one, Skeeve,” the Djin was saying, and I tried to focus on his words. “I think everybody has to reach their own answer, though it’s a rare person who even thinks to ask the question. I will say it’s an over-simplification to try to equate caring about someone with weakness, just as I think it’s wrong to assume that if we can learn from our friends, they’re actually controlling our thinking.”

  He stopped and stared at my hand. I followed his gaze and realized I was trying to fill my empty glass from an empty pitcher.

  “I also think,” he sighed, “that we should definitely head back to the hotel now. Have you paid the tab? Are we square here?”

  “Thass another thing,” I said, fighting to get the words out past my tongue, which suddenly seemed to have a mind of its own. “What he said about money. I haven’t been using my money right.”

  “For cryin’ out loud, Skeeve! Lower your voice!”

  “No, really! I’ve got all thissh money ... ”

  I fumbled my money belt out and emptied the gold onto the table.

  “ ... And has it made ME happy? Has it made ANYBODY happy?”

  When no answer came, I blinked my eyes, trying to get Kalvin back into focus. When he finally spoke, he seemed to be very tense, though his voice was very quiet.

  “I think you may have just made someone happy, but I don’t think it’ll be you.”

  That’s when I noticed the whole bar was silent. Looking around, I was surprised to see how many people had come in while we were talking. It was an ugly-looking crowd, but no one seemed to be talking to each other or doing anything. They just stood there looking at me ... or to be more exact, looking at the table covered with my money.

  “I ... THINK I’VE made a tactic ... tacl ... an error,” I whispered with as much dignity as I could muster.

  “You can say that again,” Kalvin shot back mercilessly. “You forgot the first rule of survival: Don’t tease the animals. Look, Skeeve, do you want to get out of here, or do you want to get out with your money?”

  “Want ... my money.” I wasn’t that drunk ... or maybe I was.

  The Djin rolled his eyes in exasperation.

  “I was afraid of that. That’s going to be a little tougher. Okay, the first thing you do is get that gold out of sight. I don’t think they’ll try anything in here. There are too many witnesses, which means too many ways to split the loot.”

  I obediently began to pick up the coins. My hands seemed to lack the dexterity necessary to load them back into my money belt, so I settled for shoving them into my pockets as best I could.

  The bar was no longer silent. There was a low murmur going around that sounded ominous even in my condition as various knots of patrons put their heads together. Even without the dark looks they kept shooting in my direction, it wasn’t hard to guess what the subject of their conversation was.

  “The way I see it, if there’s going to be trouble, it will hit when we leave. That means the trick is to leave without their knowing it. Order another pitcher.”

  That’s when I realized how much I’d already had to drink. For a moment there, I thought the Djin had said ...

  “You want me to ... ”

  “ ... Order another pitcher, but whatever you do, don’t drink any of it.”

  That made even less sense, but I followed his instructions and gestured at the bartender who delivered another pitcher with impressive speed.

  I paid him from my pocket.

  “I don’t get it,” I said. “Why should I order a pitcher when you say I shouldn’t ... ”

  “Shut up and listen,” Kalvin hissed. “That was so everybody watching you will think you’re planning to stick around for a while. In the meantime, we move.”

  That made even less sense than having some more to drink. “But, Kalvin ... most of them are between us and the door! They’ll see me ... ”

  “Not out the front door, stupid! You see that little hallway in back? That leads to the restrooms. There’s also an exit back there which probably opens into an alley. That’s the route we’re taking.”

  “How do you know there’s an exit back there?” I said suspiciously.

 
; “Because one of the things I do when I come into a new bar is count the exits,” the Djin retorted. “It’s a habit I suggest you develop if you’re going to keep drinking.”

  “Don’t want any more to drink,” I managed, my stomach suddenly rebelling at the thought.

  “Good boy. Easy now. Nice and casual. Head for the restrooms.”

  I took a deep breath in a vain effort to clear my head, then stood up ... or at least I tried to. Somewhere in the process, my foot got tangled in my chair and I nearly lost my balance. I managed not to fall, but the chair went over on its side noisily, drawing more than a few snickers from the roughnecks at the bar.

  “That’s all right,” Kalvin soothed, his voice seeming to come from a great distance. “Now just head down the hallway.”

  I seemed to be very tall all of a sudden. Moving very carefully, I drew a bead on the opening to the hallway and headed in. I made it without touching the walls on either side and felt a small surge of confidence. Maybe this scheme of Kalvin’s would work after all! As he had said, there was an exit door in the wall just short of the restrooms. Without being told, I changed course and pushed out into the alley, easing the door shut behind me. I was out!

  “Oops.”

  I frowned at the Djin.

  “What do you mean, ‘Oops!’? Didn’t you say I should ... ”

  “Nice of you to drop by, mister!”

  That last was said by a burly Pervect, one of six actually who were blocking our path down the alley. Apparently our little act hadn’t fooled everybody.

  “Skeeve, I ... ”

  “Never mind, Kalvin. I just figured out for myself what ‘Oops’ means.”

  “Of course, you know this here’s what you’d call a toll-alley. You got to pay to use it.”

  That was the same individual talking. If he noticed me talking to Kalvin, which to him would look like talking to thin air, he didn’t seem to mind or care.

  “That’s right,” one of his cronies chimed in. “We figure what you got in your pockets ought to just about cover it.”