Load Up the Mazer Pipes

I swallowed the bag of grass just before the door blew open. Five cops piled into the room. I dropped into the fetal position and they ran past me. My breathing became harder. I crawled behind the sofa and chewed a hole in the upholstery. A plain clothed cop walked in and pointed his gun at me.
“What’s going on here?” he said.
“They went upstairs.” I pointed.
“Yeah. They got who they wanted. I’m asking about you.”
“Oh. I’m just getting my wallet.”
“Don’t move your fukin hands.” He walked toward me very slowly.
“I wouldn’t…”
“Shut the fuk up,” he said. He crouched down and looked into the sofa. An arrow pierced through the back of his head and he collapsed. A dwarf clone of Chuck Norris dove out of the sofa into a ninja roll and then kip-upped onto his feet.
“Where too boss?” he said.
“We’ll take the back exit. Can you drive?”
“Sure boss.”
“Actually, I’ll drive and you man the thermal cannons,” I said.
We slipped out the back door and into the tool shed. I jumped into the driver seat and punched the lift rockets to life. Chorris armed the thermal cannons and loaded up two mazer rifles.
I could hear people running around outside.
“Lets move it,” said Chorris.
I slammed the accelerator to the ground and pulled back on the steering column. Nothing.
“Fuk!” I yelled.
“The parking break.”
I pulled parking release and we blasted through the roof of the tool shed and flew into the sky. When we reached a high enough altitude, I slowed down and aimed toward Baltar Hampoon 35.
“I’m gonna put it on auto-pilot for a second, I got to take a massive shit.”
“Want some prunes or figs?” Chorris pulled out a leather bag filled with all sorts of dried fruit.
“No thanks. But I could use some mineral oil if you have any.”
“Course.” He pulled out a beaker and I pounded 350 ml.
I grabbed onto the hand rails and started my deep breathing cycle. I inhaled for seven seconds, held it for twenty eight, and then exhaled for fourteen. After my third cycle I was ready. I took a huge breath and exhaled as fast as I could. I kicked my right knee up to my forehead and tightened my stomach muscles and a stinging log of dump and plastic bag jammed out my ass into the mesh net. The poo slopped through the holes and my bag of precious weed was left drooping in the net.
“Who wants to get roasted?” I asked.
2) We slowed down as the police cruiser flew in behind us. I turned off the phase propulsion and switched to hover mode. Chorris puffed one more time on his blunt and threw it into the trash port.
“What’s the plan boss?” he said.
“You just keep your cool. Don’t fire unless I say so.”
“Think you can talk your way out of this one?”
“I’m hoping so.”
The officer pulled up next to me and locked onto our engine. He waited a second while his computer printed out our record and then he opened our entry hatch. His holster was unbuttoned.
“License and registration please. And could you have your friend step away from the artillery.”
“Chorris, take a seat.”
“Do you know why I stopped you?” the officer asked.
“No idea. I just came back from my Grandma’s rest home. We were…”
“Yeah fine. Anyway, I stopped you because there was smoke coming out of your solar vent.”
“Oh. We had it open I guess.”
“Yeah. You might have. My spectrometer measured a high concentration of THC in the smoke. Have either of you been smoking hash or marijuana?”
“I have sir,” said Chorris. “I have a lung condition.”
“Do you have records to prove that?” said the officer.
“Sure do.” Chorris slowly reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it up and showed the officer his Bluntmaster card.
“Works for me. Alright. Its probably good that you keep the vent open and remember not to drive when you are high. Unless you were high when you learned to drive.”
“I was not sir,” said Chorris.
“Well you two have a safe trip to wherever you’re going.” The officer closed the hatch and released us from engine lock. I re-primed the phase drive and eased out into space.
“Fukin asshole,” said Chorris, “I should have plastered him.”
“Great. That’s just what we need.”
“It would have made for a better story.”
“Sure. But at least now you’ll live to tell this one. Looks like we got another fifteen hours till we land. Another round of bingers?”
Chorris unlatched the hookah and threw in a brick of white widow. I recharged the cooling chamber and primed the charcoal.
I took a long smooth breath of smoke and kicked the captains chair into zombie position. My feet were resting on the dash and my head was sunk back into the cushion. Chorris tuned the hi-fi to the soul music station and cranked up the bass.
“Quadruple Fudge Pistacio Queefpaste,” I said, loud enough for the concession-bot to hear and it whirred to life. A hose dropped from the ceiling into my mouth and I let the ice cream ooze into my stomach. A couple minutes later I dozed off into a dream.
3) My seat flipped back into operating position and I work up with a start. The monitor flashed twenty five minutes. We were almost to our destination. I shook Chorris but he didn’t move. I shook him again and he fell off the chair. I kicked him and he rolled under the back seat.
“Come on hogg. We’re setting down in a half hour.”
He jumped up and landed in a horse stance. He whipped out a couple panther punches and a round house kick and then sat back into his chair.
“That was pretty good, huh?”
“Not bad. You still have work to do on your breathing though.” Chorris used to be a magician’s apprentice. He’s performed his dead humanoid trick across the galaxy.
We prepared for the landing and then jettisoned the last of our contraband. We had never been to this planet before and we didn’t want to take any chances.

  • By professor weed, April 30, 2005 @ 7:44 pm

    slimy slimy slimy

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