Zac and Dylan found suitable partners for themselves, and the three boys danced the night away.
Hours later in the VIP Room, Zac and Ricky sat side-by-side on a floating plasma couch while two topless cyborg women danced for them. The brothers both had half-lidded eyes; the drinks had been flowing and the hour had grown late. Ricky’s tiny hand was wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle that rested in his lap.
“Hey Zac?” said Ricky.
“Yeah?”
“I just wanna tell you, man. Eileen is a great girl. You guys are gonna be really—hic!—happy together.”
Zac looked down at his brother and Ricky looked up.
“I mean it, man. Cheers.”
“Thanks, Ricky,” said Zac with a drunken, lopsided grin. “You’re a good guy.”
“’Bout time you noticed, bitch.”
“Hey,” Zac said, nudging Ricky’s tiny shoulder. “You got any advice for, y’know, the bedroom?”
“I do,” Ricky nodded, though his head tipped sideways. “Sex is like playing bridge. If you don’t have a good partner, you better have a good hand.”
Zac and Ricky stared at one another for a moment, then they both roared with laughter.
“I’ll drink to that!” Zac said when the laughter finally subsided. He hoisted his bottle toward his little brother. Ricky awkwardly hoisted his bottle toward Zac, then put his hands on both sides of it to lift it to his face.
The curtains to the VIP Room suddenly flew open and Dylan appeared, drunk and panicked, completely oblivious to the half-naked women dancing in front of him.
“There you are!” Dylan cried.
“Hey, my best man!” Zac called out. “Come have a drink with us!”
“Dude, I just stepped out for a smoke and I saw your mom teleport in!” Dylan jabbered. “She’s on the warpath!”
Zac sat up, suddenly awake and alert.
“Oh God. What time is it?”
“It’s four in the morning,” Dylan said.
“Four in the—?” Zac trailed off. “Oh my God. Oh my God. I’m dead. I am so, so dead.”
“Ah, what are you worried about?” said Ricky. “You’re a grown man, aren’t you? Tell Mom to come in and have a drink and calm her bitch ass down.” He snickered to himself.
Zac looked at Ricky as if seeing him for the first time. He turned back to Dylan in a panic.
“How do we get that thing out of his head?”
“How should I know?” shouted Dylan.
“Well go find that snake guy and ask him!” Like magic, Sidewinder fluttered in through the curtains.
“Sssomeone looking for me?”
“Oh, thank God,” said Zac. “How do we get that enhancer thing out of my brother’s head?”
“Oh, I’m sssorry,” replied Sidewinder. “That implant isss permanent.”
“What?”
“Yesss, quality piece of merchandise,” Sidewinder continued. “Sssix hundred creditsss. Thumbprint?”
Before Zac even knew what was happening, Sidewinder had his thumb on a scanner. It beeped and Sidewinder pocketed it.
“A pleasure, boysss. Come back anytime.”
Sidewinder disappeared. Zac buried his face in his hands.
“Zachary David!” his mother’s voice thundered from beyond the curtains. “Where are you?”
Zac looked up in alarm. He turned to Dylan, who could only shrug helplessly. Desperate, Zac reached for the nearest cyborg girl and yanked off one of her power cells.
“Hey!” the cyborg girl cried. “Touching is extra!”
Zac jammed the power cell to the side of Ricky’s head. There was a discharge of purple energy as Ricky’s body jittered crazily and his eyes crossed.
A moment later, the curtains flew open to reveal Zac’s mother, all in a rage. She looked to be torn between ripping Zac’s head off and sweeping Ricky into her arms. She chose the latter.
“My baby!” she cried, cradling Ricky, who had been transformed back into the cooing, gurgling, squirmy child that Linda knew and loved. She peppered his face with kisses and hugged him tight. She cast a withering glare at Zac.
“We’re leaving,” she commanded.
Linda led the way toward the teleporters with Ricky over her shoulder, followed by an exhausted Zac and Dylan. As they made their way along, Ricky’s head came up off his mother’s shoulder. He stared directly at Zac, raised his little fist, and flipped him off with his tiny middle finger. Then with a smirk, he rested his head back down for a much-needed and well-deserved nap.
13.
ROYAL FLUSH
In the skies above Methraxis IV, a small, battered ship angled its way toward a landing pad, leaving a trail of black smoke in its wake. The left anti-grav unit flickered and lost power, and the ship made a hard sideways landing on the smooth metal surface of the pad, leaving a divot in the center.
The ship’s main door sighed open, splitting up the words STUART & SONS PLUMBING AND ULTRASONIC SHOWER REPAIR written in glowing letters on the side. Out of the ship stepped Joe, a young, good-looking man dressed in blue coveralls and carrying a toolbox. He glanced anxiously over at the ding his ship had left on the landing pad. He disappeared back into the ship, powered it up, and moved it backward a few feet, concealing the damage. He reappeared and examined his handiwork. Good enough.
Joe stepped out of the ship and looked around. A long white moving walkway led away from the landing pad toward a walled compound in the distance. Shifting, orange-colored sand surrounded him, glowing under the Methraxian sun.
A figure made its way toward him—a tall, blindingly white figure that he could only assume was native to the planet. Whoever he was, he carried himself ramrod straight as the walkway conveyed him along. Joe shielded his eyes as the figure drew close to him.
“Good day to you,” the stranger said pleasantly, nodding toward Joe. “I am Rix, the manager. Welcome to the Pleasure Planet Hotel Resort and Intestinal Cleansing Spa.”
“Intestinal Cleansing Spa?” asked Joe.
“Yes. We normally leave that out of the brochure. It’s evidently off-putting.”
“I can see how it would be.”
“Just so you know, I did not lure you here under false pretenses,” Rix said suddenly.
“I . . . didn’t assume that you had,” Joe replied. “Is that something you say to everyone who comes here?”
Rix looked momentarily thrown, but gathered himself quickly. “I cannot recall what I say to everyone who comes here.”
Joe stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. “Fair enough. So you called because you’re having a problem with a toilet?”
“Er . . . in a manner of speaking, yes. What you would call our toilet attempted to consume too much and is now unwell.”
“Ah,” Joe said, nodding. “That’s certainly a delicate way of putting it.”
“You must help.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll do my best.”
“Very good,” said Rix, turning away from the landing pad. “Please come with me.”
They stepped on the walkway, which reversed direction and carried them toward the main hotel on the resort grounds.
“Are you a Methraxian?” Joe asked as the resort grew closer.
“Yes.”
“Wow,” said Joe. “I’ve never met anyone from your race before. Are you all this . . . smooth?”
“If you are referring to my complete lack of body hair and my flawlessly clear opalescent skin, then yes,” Rix replied. “Those are traits all Methraxians share.”
“Interesting. Anything else I should know about Methraxians?”
“Yes,” said Rix, shifting his eyes away. “We are terrible at deception. Which you must accept as true, as we are terrible at deception.”
They stepped off the walkway and were bowed in through the main gate by two more Methraxians. As Joe caught sight of the resort, he stopped in his tracks. The hotel was magnificent, more like a palace, pure white with intricate filigreed gold and silver inlays and
what looked like abalone glass in the windows. Spiraling pillars held up the front portico, and small multicolored fireworks flew up from the domed roof and exploded silently in the sky above.
The grounds around the hotel were immaculate and featured several hyperball courts, bubbling natural springs, a number of bars with exotic liquids in oddly-shaped bottles, a pool, zero-grav hammocks, an outdoor gym, and a small petting zoo filled with cooing little puffs of fur in every color imaginable. The only thing missing, Joe noticed, was guests.
“Where is everyone?” he asked.
“All of our guests are currently sleeping,” Rix said. “But not eternally, as that would indicate they are all dead, which is not something to which I would ever admit.”
“All sleeping?” Joe pressed. “In the middle of the day? With all of this stuff to do?”
“It would make both our lives easier if you remained focused on the task at hand,” Rix said.
Rix led Joe into the cavernous main lobby of the resort’s hotel. Behind the main desk, several other Methraxians stood at the ready and nodded as Rix and Joe passed by. There was still no sign of any guests.
The two of them stopped at a magnificent golden door with a sign that read RESTROOM, and then apparently the same in a number of alien languages.
“Here we are,” said Rix.
They stepped inside. The bathroom was wholly unremarkable—toilet, sink, mirror, and tiled walls. Joe set his toolbox down next to the toilet.
“Are you having problems with all the toilets, or just this one?” Joe asked.
“This is the only one.”
“The only one in the lobby, you mean?”
“The only one for the entire resort.”
Joe considered this. “It must be pretty popular.”
“Oh yes,” Rix replied “Every guest has been in here at least once.”
Joe reached over and gave the toilet’s handle a jiggle. Rix’s reaction was immediate.
“Please be careful with that!” he cried. “It is the reproductive organ.”
Joe let go of the handle and chuckled to himself.
“Rix, if you think that’s a reproductive organ, I can see why you need a plumber.”
He grabbed the lid to the toilet tank and removed it. Instead of the usual parts, the tank was crammed with multicolored shapes all stitched together in what looked like a thick spider web.
“What the hell is this?”
“Have you identified the problem?” Rix asked earnestly. “Can you fix it?”
“I don’t even know what the hell I’m looking at,” Joe said. “Rix, I’ve worked on some exotic toilets, but this one takes the cake.”
“Please try,” said Rix.
Joe set the lid aside and started poking around. There were terrible squelching sounds as he did, and the shapes inside seemed to react to his touch. He found a green pod near the bottom of the tank and squeezed it. Whatever was inside drained out, and the entire mechanism came to life. Joe pulled his hands back in horror, but Rix was delighted.
“Well done!” Rix cried. “Oh, well done!”
Joe swallowed hard. “Are those . . . are those organs?”
As he spoke, the toilet bowl suddenly widened at the bottom. Before he had a chance to react, an enormous tongue shot out of the hole at the bottom of the bowl, wrapped itself around Joe, and pulled him in.
Rix, still smiling, replaced the lid on the tank. He then knelt down in front of the toilet with his eyes closed and a serene expression.
“Your highness.”
The toilet returned to its normal shape. The water in the bowl gurgled.
“Of course,” Rix said. “Anything. I live to serve.”
The water gurgled again.
“I hear and obey, your excellency. Thank you.”
Rix got up and left the bathroom.
At the lobby’s front desk, a fellow Methraxian named T’Nad waited anxiously at check-in. He spotted Rix approaching.
“Well?” asked T’Nad anxiously.
“His royal highness is feeling better and his appetite has returned,” Rix said with an enormous smile.
T’nad smiled too. “Praise be. Does he need anything?”
“Yes,” said Rix. “Start contacting local plumbers and get them out here immediately. The king has a new favorite meal.”
14.
A POUND OF CURE
Giuseppe “Gino” Squitieri stood next to a massive, ornate oak desk, surrounded by shelves of first-edition books and objets d’art. He was dressed in a tuxedo, and helping him tie his tie was his best friend and enforcer, Sebastiano “Sebby” Cassese.
Filling the rest of the room were six other men, all in tuxedos, all with telltale bulges under their coats.
“Is it tied straight?” asked Gino.
“Yeah, it’s tied straight,” Sebby replied. “It’s ya head that’s lopsided.”
“You gonna start with me?” Gino shouted. “Hah? You gonna start with me when I’m about to be married?”
A soft knock at the office door interrupted them.
“Jesus, like I don’t have enough to deal with today,” Gino grumbled. “Come in!”
The door swung open to reveal Nova DeSantos, a lovely redhead wearing a beautiful black dress. The only flaw in her appearance was her eyes—pink and puffy, as though she’d been crying.
“Hey, Miss DeSantos!” Gino said genially. “Good to see you.”
“Mister Squitieri,” she said softly, nodding.
Sebby finished with Gino’s tie and straightened his lapels. He stepped back and joined the other men, who were all watching Nova carefully.
“So? How do I look?”
“Very—” Nova stopped and cleared her throat. “Very nice, Mister Squitieri.”
“Hey, thanks. Listen, I gotta tell ya, I was never a hundred percent on the idea of a weddin’ planner, but you did a beautiful job. Just beautiful.” Gino turned to the other men in the room. “Didn’t she do a beautiful job, boys?”
The men murmured their assent. Gino crossed the room to one of the windows and opened the blinds. Bright sunshine poured into the room.
“They said you were the best, and they were right. I mean lookit that! The tables set with my grandmother’s—God rest her soul—special linens. The Stargazer lilies. You even managed to get those albino peacocks my fiancée is so crazy about.”
He turned back from the window to face Nova again.
“It’s gonna be a perfect day, and I have you to thank for it. So thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Mister Squitieri,” Nova said. She wrung her hands as fresh tears built in her eyes.
“Somethin’ else on your mind?” Gino asked casually.
“I was . . . I wanted to know when I might have my daughter back.”
The mood in the room immediately darkened.
“Have your daughter back?”
“Y-yes,” Nova stammered.
Gino crossed the room and was suddenly very close to Nova, who cast her eyes downward.
“Your daughter has been my guest,” Gino said, his voice heavy with menace. “I only had her removed from your home so that you would be motivated to focus all of your energy on helpin’ to plan my weddin’.”
“I know,” Nova nodded. “I just . . . I just need to know that she’s all right.”
“Of course she’s all right. And she will remain all right as long as my weddin’ day goes off without a hitch. If something should go wrong, well, whatever happens to her will be on your head, won’t it?”
Nova looked up in alarm and locked eyes with Gino. It was very clear he meant it.
“Nothing will go wrong,” she said, her voice leaden with fear.
“It better not.”
Gino stepped back and resumed his previously convivial attitude.
“Hey, you’ll be happy to hear that your daughter’s made a new friend. She’s been playin’ with Sebby’s daughter. How old is your girl, Sebby?”
“Ten,” said S
ebby.
“Ah, see that? They’re the same age. I bet they’re havin’ a ball.”
Nova nodded.
“Thank you for your time, Mister Squitieri,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some last-minute details to tend to.”
“Of course,” said Gino, now smiling. “We want everything perfect, don’t we?”
“Yes of course we do.”
Nova turned to leave, but stopped at the sound of Gino’s voice.
“Oh, actually, that reminds me,” he said. “One last minor detail.”
Nova turned back. “Yes?”
“When I watch my bride-to-be walk down the aisle, I want her to be perfect as well.”
“I . . . hired the best makeup people in the business,” Nova said. “Found the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen.”
“And that’s all well and good,” Gino said. “But she’s been stayin’ with my mother and her sisters for the last month, learnin’ how I like my shirts folded, how to shine my shoes . . . and how to cook all my favorite foods. I’m afraid she might have put on some weight, y’know? So I need you to make sure she’s under, say, 120 pounds.”
Nova’s eyes went wide, and she rushed forward, forgetting herself.
“That was never—!”
She stopped short as Sebby and the other men reached inside their coats with an almost synchronized motion. She took a step back.
“That was never part of the deal,” she said, her voice strangled with sobs.
“Yeah, well, now it is.”
“But . . . but what am I supposed to do if she has gained weight?” Nova cried. “It’s too late now! The wedding is today! I’m not a trainer! I’m not a nutritionist! How can I possibly—?”
“Hey, you’re the hotshot wedding planner,” Gino cut across her. “I’m guessin’ you’ve had to think on your feet before. You’ll come up with somethin’.”
He pulled out an ornate gold pocket watch and checked it.
“You’ve got about ninety minutes ’til showtime, Ms. DeSantos. If I were you, I’d use the time wisely.”
Nova looked hopelessly from one face to another, but there was no compassion and no help. She backed out of the office with every eye upon her and broke into a run, up the grand staircase to the second floor.
Hell's Nerds and Other Tales Page 12
