Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Flashing king snake



My brain may have slowed to a crawl, but it's mobile enough to flash the goods, though they're not very good goods. But they're free, and that's worth something of value.

He had been told crawling would get him nowhere. Defiant, though not standing, he crawled. Across the Mississippi he crawled, across the Huey P. Long. Into the Great Plains he crawled, and through the dust and devolution of Texas and the New Mexican plateau. The ticket taker at the International UFO Museum and Research Center considered him mad, but he was a paying customer and all paying customers in Roswell were mad and thus he was allowed to crawl inside and out. The gift shop, however, was quite the frustrating experience, though he did manage to score a plush grey for his on-again, off-again girlfriend, so perilously close to off because of his determination to be the next world traveling oddity of Ripley's, believe it or not.

Making his case at the San Francisco branch, he was laughed off the premises and crawled onto a trawler about to head out for sturgeon. Ignoring the surgeon general's warning, he lit a Winston and bought off the skipper with a few packs, even proving his worth as a makeshift counterweight in the fight to lift those feisty fish on board.

With the thanks of captain and crew, and a delicious meal to boot, he crawled on shore, sneaking his way, via Solid Snake-inspired crawling (sadly, without a cardboard box) onto a cargo ship bound for mainland China. The hold held many goods, though he was not able to read Chinese. The vast, floating warehouse could have contained the bodies of Triad victims for all he knew. Since a noxious stench never appeared, he understood that whatever illegal shenanigans were likely going on, at least he wouldn't pass out from the fumes.

The astute reader will no doubt be wondering how he survived such an arduous trek across the unforgiving seas.

Rats are tastier than you think.

Disembarking in Shanghai, there was -- surprise! -- no sight of Madonna as he crawled the famous burg, deftly avoiding rickshaws, gunplay in the muddy streets, roving bands of angry Maoists, patrons stumbling out of opium dens, scattered ronin from across the Nihonkai here for a quick score and other Oriental stereotypes as he steadily made his way into and across the vast, agricultural interior and north to his ultimate destination, leaping (crawling, actually) greatly forward into the realm of the horse lords where he continued to crawl.

And crawl.

And crawl.

And crawl, the thickening callouses upon his hands and those straining his tender knee joints furiously weaving burrow after burrow into the ancient earth, uncovering a long-dried riverbed over which he crawled and crawled and crawled and then crawled one more time, a thin, reddish trail in the sandy silt howling that he had at last found his treasure of iron and bone, the grave of the great Khan himself.

As his ex, and the world soon found out, crawling took him everywhere, including the pages of National Geographic and everyone knows where that inevitably leads: hookers n' blow n' crawling, lots of crawling.

21 comments:

Tengrain said...

Graves, you swine!

Admit it: you wrote this in one of your ether-fueled DFH booze'n'hooker binges, crawling to the Loo, didn't you?

And you didn't invite me?

Eat at Roy's!

Regards,

Tengrain

Laura said...

Well, that was quite the adventure!
What some people will do to become known eh!
I guess it's all worth it for the hookers n'blow though... :P

You like to take the starter sentences literally, don't you? :P

((Hugs))
Laura

MRMacrum said...

Texas Devolution? Excellent.

But I remember. It was salmon we were after, not sturgeon.

Mary Ellen said...

Mmmm...a nice French meal of Grilled Rats Bordeaux Style (Entrecote à la bordelaise)

Alcoholic rats inhabiting wine cellars are skinned and eviscerated, brushed with a thick sauce of olive oil and crushed shallots, and grilled over a fire of broken wine barrels.

The French will eat anything. I wonder what wine they drink with this dish, though?

Doc said...

If I crawl, can I have hookers and blow? I promise to only show my good side to the nice National Geographic camera man and I will be topless.

This guy will probably have a line of Nike's named after him.

Fun story Randal, as always.

Doc

Randal Graves said...

tengrain, do you honestly think that *I* can afford hookers n' blow?

sunshine, sometimes being literal is fun. ;-)

mrmacrum, I originally had Mako shark, but couldn't remember what their exact range was. I tried to be aquatically correct.

nunly, why would you assume this guy was French? I only write about Real Americans from Real America.

Pinko.

doc, does NG even go topless these days of boobieism?

Anonymous said...

Man, I bet he's enjoying every minute of hooker's n blow. I know if I were a man i would be!

Good thing I'm not tho huh... Anyway, very literal way to take the sentence this week and in answer to your question Randal, yes I do believe that NG still does topless...

La Belette Rouge said...

Are you writing about Sean Penn? It was the Shanghai/Madonna thing that got me wondering. Only he i more National Enquirer than National Geographic.;-)

Crybbe666 said...

If I didn't know better, I would have thought this was a biography of my uncle...
A fine tale of sex, drugs and depravity. Just the way we like it!!

David Barber said...

Randal, that was certainly one of your best. An adventure with a couple of giggles. Nice one mate. ;-)

Holte Ender said...

He crawled across the Mississippi did he, he's almost a good as the mighty Doors.

S.W. Anderson said...

If extra points are given for the number of times "crawling" appear in a story, you're sure to clean up, Randal. But must you leave readers to wonder why, in this age of technological innovations and advancing bionics, your protagonist is reduced to crawling in the first place? For one thing, it's so darned hard on clothes.

Commander Zaius said...

Rats are tastier than you think.

Possum ain't bad either.

Demeur said...

Salmon? No it was the much sought after blue fin tuna.

Tom Harper said...

Excellent YouTube selection. That might be the best guitar licks I've heard by Robbie Krieger (and that's saying a lot).

susan said...

I think the only thing you'd find in a container ship heading from here to China is great stacks of dollar bills. Rats love them too.

I'm sure the ghost of Ghenghis was thrilled to have his remains unearthed after all this time.

S.W. Anderson said...

"I think the only thing you'd find in a container ship heading from here to China is great stacks of dollar bills."

Bingo!

Life As I Know It Now said...

This has everything! Crawling and more crawling, leaps of logic, a hook that keeps you reading about the crawling. It's good :D

Randal Graves said...

nicole, I don't know, coke would leave one too jazzed. Opiates are so much more mellowing. Naked ladies would be fine, though.

LBR, I don't care how much critical acclaim he gets these days, everyone knows his finest hours was, is, and always will be Spicoli.

crybbe, thanks, but I think it could have benefited from more sex.

david, but not enough jiggles!

holte, he opened the doors of perception and all he got was this lousy story.

SWA, some folks simply enjoy kicking it old school.

BB, now that's good barbecue.

demeur, don't forget gangster octopi.

tom, the dude was underrated as a player.

susan, stacks of IOUs, maybe.

liberality, thanks, but I think the story crawled. ;-)

Jenny Jenny Flannery said...

Embrace the crawl!

Nice work...

Dr. Zaius said...

I love old National Geographic magazines! Especially the fold out section. ;o)