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koilungfish31/1/07 - Edited ten fics in five hours. 250 words debt.
1/2/07 - Ark Visit
"Are you sure this is a good idea? Mack asked, scratching his armpit.
"Of course it is!" Harriet snapped, her normal mode of speaking, stuffing cloth-wrapped bundles Frank didn't want to look closely at into her knapsack.
"It must be a good idea," Archie said sarcastically, fiddling with his colander. "It's Harriet's."
"For fuck's sake, Archie, take the colander off!" Harriet said, brushing her black hair out of her face.
"I need it to protect my brain," Archie whined, gripping his colander with both hands.
"We won't get past the front gate if you bring that colander," Frank said.
"And for fuck's sake put some pants on," Harriet continued, jabbing one of her slender fingers at his exposed and knobbly knees. "You look like a fucking hobo." Chastened, Archie slunk off to find pants.
Mack scratched his potbelly, rolling his overstretched Dodge T-shirt up to expose his hairy gut. "I dunno if this is so smart..."
Harriet finished stuffing her bag and hefted it on her shoulder. "All we have to do is blend in with the tourists. Nobody's going to recognise us. Then we get into the Ark." Her dark eyes could hardly have been more venomous. "Stupid robots can't tell one human from another."
"They could tell Bo and Duke from the Witwickys okay," Frank said, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
"Dressing up as the Witwickys only works when you look like 'em," Harriet griped. "Bo's six and a half feet tall, and Duke's black."
"So they can tell some humans apart," Frank continued, fiddling with the keys to the house he'd lost and the car he'd sold.
Mack belched. "Can we get burgers in Portland?"
"You want burgers, you find 'em yourself," Harriet said. "Where the hell is Archie? Archie!"
"Coming!" Archie called, jogging through the tents. Without the colander, his hair showed reddish and thin, much like the rest of him.
"The bus is coming," Mack said, pointing a thick finger.
"Shit," Harriet groaned. "You guys always make me late."
Getting to Portland was easy. Regrouping after breakfast was painless, since Mack got his burger to go. Finding the stop where the tour bus picked up tourists was even easier, since it had huge Autobot symbols plastered on it and for some reason big red balloons. Getting tickets would've been hard if they hadn't come early. By the time Harriet had bullied money out of the three of them for her ticket, been rude enough to the ticket-seller that Frank thought they were going to get kicked out, and gotten on the bus, the queue behind them was fifty people strong.
It was 9.28 am by Frank's watch.
"My wife gave me this watch," he told Mack, "on our first anniversary."
"That's sweet," Mack said, scratching his nose. "I didn't know you were married."
"I ain't. She left me last summer. Got the house, the kids, the savings, the works."
"That's because you're a slacker and a waster," Harriet said, crossing her arms and slumping in her seat.
"That's what the judge and my mother-in-law said," Frank remembered gloomily. Archie just fidgeted. Harriet swore, tried to light a cigarette, was told off by the tour guide, and sulked as the bus pulled out and blundered towards the Ark. Then again, thought Frank, it was hard to tell when Harriet wasn't sulking. Her face must've been cast with a permanent frown.
Mack scratched his ear, armpit sending out waves of stench.
"Damn, man," Frank said, "when did you last wash?"
"Uh ... February?"
"It's May," Frank said.
"Yeah." Mack twined his fingers together. "I don't like showering with other people watching."
"Jesus, Mack," Harriet groaned. "Just suck it up and take a bath. You stink."
"Excuse me?" said the little old lady on the seat behind Mack. "Could you be quiet? I want to hear the guide!"
Harriet looked like she was going to have one of her spectacular screaming fits, but as she was sitting up to yell the bus lurched on a pothole, and she subsided.
" ... and the Ark Reservation is covers five thousand acres - two thousand hectares - most of which is forest or desert. After the Mount Saint Hilary eruption last April, most of the Reservation was reduced to desert, but since the Autobots have been here trees and plants have been growing at a miraculous rate."
"Because the fucking robots are fucking with the fucking plants," Harriet hissed through clenched teeth. Frank didn't think anyone else heard her. He looked around.
There was the usual cast - old ladies and old gents on holiday, come to see the miraculous aliens; teenagers who all reminded him of his kids; moms with kids, dads with kids, moms and dads with kids; some dried out accountant of a man with a briefcase; three big guys in bad suits who were trying very hard not to look like very bored undercover policemen; five worrisome-looking skinheads.
The skinheads were a new addition.
" ... the Reservation is surrounded by a wall fifteen feet high and two feet thick, and is two hundred and sixty miles long. The Autobots built it in just one week!"
"Just wait and see what they're going to do to the rest of the fucking planet," Harriet seethed. At the back of the bus, one of the skinheads started drumming his feet on the floor.
"Okay people, we're almost at the gate, so if you could have your bags open and ready to be searched, please, we should be on our way in only a few minutes."
"Why we gotta get searched? I ain't no criminal!" a lady down the front shrilled.
"Madame, the gate to the Ark Reservation is the base for the 23rd Infantry Division, and as you were told before we started, everyone has to have their bags searched."
"Told you," Archie said, nudging Frank in the ribs with his elbow. "The Government's in on it."
"Archie, they're aliens and they're camped out in Oregon. Of course the government is on it," Frank sighed as they filed off the bus. A bored-looking soldier asked him to empty his pockets, and Frank showed him his wallet [mostly empty], his keys [useless, jingly] and his handkerchief [clean, holey]. Then Frank stood and waited for twenty minutes as the bus was searched, the bags were searched, the shrill woman was asked to calm down and open her handbag, the skinheads glowered at the soldiers, the kids whined and Harriet practically steamed at the ears.
Frank realised Harriet didn't have her bag.
"It was my laundry," she said. "It's at the laundrette. Did you think I was smuggling in a bomb?"
"I kinda wondered... " Frank said, trying to laugh. It didn't work. Harriet just glared. The tour guide called them all back on board the bus.
As they were queuing to get back on, Frank cocked an ear towards the tent-town on the other side of the gate. "You hear that?"
"Reverend Green's loud today," Archie said.
"How come he gets left outside but Monsignor Paul gets in every Thursday?" Frank asked aloud, taking his Stetson off to face himself.
"Because Paul's a Vatican stooge," Archie replied, "and the Vatican are in cahoots with the Government."
"I thought it was because Reverend Green tried to exorcise Optimus Prime," Mack said, scratching his stubble.
"Yeah, that too," Archie allowed.
Frank checked his watch. It was 11.13 am.
The bus lurched forwards, lumbered out of the parking bay, out of the base and onto a hard-packed dirt road.
This is it, Frank thought, I'm finally gonna see the spaceship.
1/2/07 - Ark Visit
"Are you sure this is a good idea? Mack asked, scratching his armpit.
"Of course it is!" Harriet snapped, her normal mode of speaking, stuffing cloth-wrapped bundles Frank didn't want to look closely at into her knapsack.
"It must be a good idea," Archie said sarcastically, fiddling with his colander. "It's Harriet's."
"For fuck's sake, Archie, take the colander off!" Harriet said, brushing her black hair out of her face.
"I need it to protect my brain," Archie whined, gripping his colander with both hands.
"We won't get past the front gate if you bring that colander," Frank said.
"And for fuck's sake put some pants on," Harriet continued, jabbing one of her slender fingers at his exposed and knobbly knees. "You look like a fucking hobo." Chastened, Archie slunk off to find pants.
Mack scratched his potbelly, rolling his overstretched Dodge T-shirt up to expose his hairy gut. "I dunno if this is so smart..."
Harriet finished stuffing her bag and hefted it on her shoulder. "All we have to do is blend in with the tourists. Nobody's going to recognise us. Then we get into the Ark." Her dark eyes could hardly have been more venomous. "Stupid robots can't tell one human from another."
"They could tell Bo and Duke from the Witwickys okay," Frank said, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
"Dressing up as the Witwickys only works when you look like 'em," Harriet griped. "Bo's six and a half feet tall, and Duke's black."
"So they can tell some humans apart," Frank continued, fiddling with the keys to the house he'd lost and the car he'd sold.
Mack belched. "Can we get burgers in Portland?"
"You want burgers, you find 'em yourself," Harriet said. "Where the hell is Archie? Archie!"
"Coming!" Archie called, jogging through the tents. Without the colander, his hair showed reddish and thin, much like the rest of him.
"The bus is coming," Mack said, pointing a thick finger.
"Shit," Harriet groaned. "You guys always make me late."
Getting to Portland was easy. Regrouping after breakfast was painless, since Mack got his burger to go. Finding the stop where the tour bus picked up tourists was even easier, since it had huge Autobot symbols plastered on it and for some reason big red balloons. Getting tickets would've been hard if they hadn't come early. By the time Harriet had bullied money out of the three of them for her ticket, been rude enough to the ticket-seller that Frank thought they were going to get kicked out, and gotten on the bus, the queue behind them was fifty people strong.
It was 9.28 am by Frank's watch.
"My wife gave me this watch," he told Mack, "on our first anniversary."
"That's sweet," Mack said, scratching his nose. "I didn't know you were married."
"I ain't. She left me last summer. Got the house, the kids, the savings, the works."
"That's because you're a slacker and a waster," Harriet said, crossing her arms and slumping in her seat.
"That's what the judge and my mother-in-law said," Frank remembered gloomily. Archie just fidgeted. Harriet swore, tried to light a cigarette, was told off by the tour guide, and sulked as the bus pulled out and blundered towards the Ark. Then again, thought Frank, it was hard to tell when Harriet wasn't sulking. Her face must've been cast with a permanent frown.
Mack scratched his ear, armpit sending out waves of stench.
"Damn, man," Frank said, "when did you last wash?"
"Uh ... February?"
"It's May," Frank said.
"Yeah." Mack twined his fingers together. "I don't like showering with other people watching."
"Jesus, Mack," Harriet groaned. "Just suck it up and take a bath. You stink."
"Excuse me?" said the little old lady on the seat behind Mack. "Could you be quiet? I want to hear the guide!"
Harriet looked like she was going to have one of her spectacular screaming fits, but as she was sitting up to yell the bus lurched on a pothole, and she subsided.
" ... and the Ark Reservation is covers five thousand acres - two thousand hectares - most of which is forest or desert. After the Mount Saint Hilary eruption last April, most of the Reservation was reduced to desert, but since the Autobots have been here trees and plants have been growing at a miraculous rate."
"Because the fucking robots are fucking with the fucking plants," Harriet hissed through clenched teeth. Frank didn't think anyone else heard her. He looked around.
There was the usual cast - old ladies and old gents on holiday, come to see the miraculous aliens; teenagers who all reminded him of his kids; moms with kids, dads with kids, moms and dads with kids; some dried out accountant of a man with a briefcase; three big guys in bad suits who were trying very hard not to look like very bored undercover policemen; five worrisome-looking skinheads.
The skinheads were a new addition.
" ... the Reservation is surrounded by a wall fifteen feet high and two feet thick, and is two hundred and sixty miles long. The Autobots built it in just one week!"
"Just wait and see what they're going to do to the rest of the fucking planet," Harriet seethed. At the back of the bus, one of the skinheads started drumming his feet on the floor.
"Okay people, we're almost at the gate, so if you could have your bags open and ready to be searched, please, we should be on our way in only a few minutes."
"Why we gotta get searched? I ain't no criminal!" a lady down the front shrilled.
"Madame, the gate to the Ark Reservation is the base for the 23rd Infantry Division, and as you were told before we started, everyone has to have their bags searched."
"Told you," Archie said, nudging Frank in the ribs with his elbow. "The Government's in on it."
"Archie, they're aliens and they're camped out in Oregon. Of course the government is on it," Frank sighed as they filed off the bus. A bored-looking soldier asked him to empty his pockets, and Frank showed him his wallet [mostly empty], his keys [useless, jingly] and his handkerchief [clean, holey]. Then Frank stood and waited for twenty minutes as the bus was searched, the bags were searched, the shrill woman was asked to calm down and open her handbag, the skinheads glowered at the soldiers, the kids whined and Harriet practically steamed at the ears.
Frank realised Harriet didn't have her bag.
"It was my laundry," she said. "It's at the laundrette. Did you think I was smuggling in a bomb?"
"I kinda wondered... " Frank said, trying to laugh. It didn't work. Harriet just glared. The tour guide called them all back on board the bus.
As they were queuing to get back on, Frank cocked an ear towards the tent-town on the other side of the gate. "You hear that?"
"Reverend Green's loud today," Archie said.
"How come he gets left outside but Monsignor Paul gets in every Thursday?" Frank asked aloud, taking his Stetson off to face himself.
"Because Paul's a Vatican stooge," Archie replied, "and the Vatican are in cahoots with the Government."
"I thought it was because Reverend Green tried to exorcise Optimus Prime," Mack said, scratching his stubble.
"Yeah, that too," Archie allowed.
Frank checked his watch. It was 11.13 am.
The bus lurched forwards, lumbered out of the parking bay, out of the base and onto a hard-packed dirt road.
This is it, Frank thought, I'm finally gonna see the spaceship.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-02-01 02:53 pm (UTC)"I thought it was because Reverend Green tried to exorcise Optimus Prime," Mack said, scratching his stubble.
I wanna see that. XD
"The power of Christ compels you!"
"Umm...?"
no subject
Date: 2007-02-01 03:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-01 04:02 pm (UTC)"Kindly remove these straps. ...Please. Jazz will never let me live this down."
no subject
Date: 2007-02-01 04:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-01 04:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-01 04:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-01 06:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-01 04:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-01 04:08 pm (UTC)I have no idea how Rev. Green went about trying to exorcise Prime, but it probably happened very soon after MTME and wasn't exactly a public relations success.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-01 03:32 pm (UTC)I like it - they're... colourful people. ;)
And now I'm wondering what's up with those skinheads.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-01 04:10 pm (UTC)They might get more colourful if I can get the rest of the story out of them, such as what the hell Frank and Mack are doing, and what Archie actually wants with a Transformer, and what Harriet is planning to do other than yell at the Autobots.
Me too ...
no subject
Date: 2007-02-01 04:37 pm (UTC)Archie. Heh.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-01 04:38 pm (UTC)Archie = heh?
no subject
Date: 2007-02-01 04:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-02 11:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-02 03:10 am (UTC)These people are a cross-section of human reaction: Harriet, the woman on a mission who wants the Autobots OFF HER PLANET; Mack, who doesn't have anything better to do; Archie, conspiracy theorist; and Frank, a guy whose dreams have fled and just wants to feel part of something bigger than himself.
And the Autobots, just trying to deal with it all and fight a war besides. What a nightmare for Prime...
I was going to tell you earlier (from my reading of 'Crowd Control'), but this reminds me of a scene from Contact. This has the same feeling of comedy, anticipation, and the edge of dread to it that that did.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-02 11:54 am (UTC)Sounds like I got their personalities across about right.
For some reason, people don't tend to write about the Autobots interacting with the humans on a daily basis. The Ark is a goldmine of superior technology - of *course* the Army are going to park themselves outside the front door to make sure nobody else gets it, even if they can't have it. Of *course* someone is going to try and make a buck out of it, one way or the other.
What's "Contact"?
no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 09:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 09:14 pm (UTC)Silly aside, I really enjoy these characters. They've got a lot of personality
unlike certain Takara-brand humansand they're interesting. I'd like to see more of them.no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 09:16 pm (UTC)You enjoyed them? Why?
I'd like to write more of them, such as what they're going to do when they reach the Ark, but that story hasn't turned up yet.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 09:22 pm (UTC)I live in the South. Fear.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 09:28 pm (UTC)I dunno about fear ... I live near the Fens.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 09:30 pm (UTC)Fens?
no subject
Date: 2007-03-30 08:41 pm (UTC)Fens. Like marshes, only called fen so people will live in them.
no subject
Date: 2007-03-30 08:48 pm (UTC)But are there fundies in the fens?
no subject
Date: 2007-03-30 09:50 pm (UTC)Not that I've noticed.
no subject
Date: 2007-03-30 09:51 pm (UTC)You're better-off.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-03 01:14 pm (UTC)One thing that kind of confuses me. The conversation in the beginning and Franks thoughts at the end imply that this is the first time they've done this, but one bit in the middle seems to contradict this impression.
There was the usual cast - old ladies and old gents on holiday, come to see the miraculous aliens; teenagers who all reminded him of his kids; moms with kids, dads with kids, moms and dads with kids; some dried out accountant of a man with a briefcase; three big guys in bad suits who were trying very hard not to look like very bored undercover policemen; five worrisome-looking skinheads.
The skinheads were a new addition.
Okay. If this is the first time they (particularly Frank, whose viewpoint seems to be the primary focus) have done this, how does he know who the usual cast are? How do they know that the skinheads were a new addition? Or were you taking a more omniscient third-person perspective there?
no subject
Date: 2007-04-04 12:29 pm (UTC)Yes, you're entirely right. Either I went omniescent without thinking or there's an error. Or both. Probably both.