ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ John's Diner°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°Who Was That Guy?°°°°°°°°°°°°°by Lucia Chambers ßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßß Jeff Green squinted into the sun, wiped away the sweat forming on his upper lip, and positioned his feet exactly eighteen inches apart. He took a couple of short practice swings, letting the weight of the club act as a pendulum dangling from his hands. Then he suddenly swung high, over, and cracked the golfball for a long, straight shot. Michael Hahn shielded his eyes with his hand and followed the ball. "Hey! I think you got a hole in one!" The two astonished men stood there for a moment, and then moved on. * * * Joe DeRouen had been floating for what seemed like forever, hardly able to see outside the filthy outer glass of his transporter vehicle. When the golfball snapped the shield, the pressurized cabin exploded air outwards, forcing him to somersault, feet over head, and then shoot through the breach into the atmosphere. His tattered robes flapped wildly, his feet moved back and forth and his mouth made a big O as he screamed through the air. Finally, a lower tree limb caught his left sandal, and he wound up dangling upside down with his hands almost touching the grass. "Here! Here!" Michael yelled, running up to the swinging man, "Get the flask, Jeff, get the flask!" Michael and Jeff pulled Joe out of the tree; he fell to the ground sounding a loud thud. Joe snatched the gleaming silver flask from Jeff's outstretched hand and greedily drank several deep swigs from it, looked straight ahead, and said, "Oogle jeltry et?" "This will never do," Michael said, scratching his head. "Inter treelumf." Joe sighed, drank a little more, and then clasped his hand over his mouth. His eyes grew big. "Quistergreen." Joe reddened and tried again, "Quibblernog." He looked imploringly at Michael and Jeff, put one hand over his heart, sputtered "Inveiglebean eron yeeler mornit, eter quack!" and passed out cold under the tree. Michael snatched the flask from Joe's hand, took several long gulps, and handed it over to Jeff. "Where do you think this guy is from?" "My guess is Finland. I've heard about the technology there, but this! This is amazing!" Together they knocked a nearly transparent glassed object that reflected them back like a fun-house mirror, walking around it, kicking, feeling for a hole. Eventually the two just stood there, gaping into space. Michael waved his head at the unconscious man. "Check him for ID?" Jeff shrugged, then began rummaging around Joe's lapel for a pocket. He pulled the robe closer, pulled out the flap, examined the chest, and found no pockets anywhere. "A bum, Michael. He's a bum. No ID." Michael looked uncomfortable. "Well we can't just leave him here, he's obviously lost." "Okay. Let's put him on the cart and bring him into the club," He needs to be dealt with, one way or another." * * * Jack McGeehin turned to the customer with a big smile, put down a saucer and filled his cup with fragrant, steaming coffee. "Anything else, Matt?" "No no, siree, this is all I need, all I ever wanted." Matthew Arnold drank deeply, then smiled at Jack over the rim of the cup. Joe pulled up a stool, pointed to the coffee, and sat down, a despondant frown on his face. He muttered, "Oogle jeltry et?" a couple of times, but seemed to not expect an answer. Jeff and Michael stood in the doorway, talking to Del Freeman, the owner of the Pro Shop. Jeff fidgeted with a tee while Michael spoke. "You know, he just sort of dropped in, uninvited. It doesn't make any sense to me. Should we call a meeting or something?" Michael seemed so annoyed, Jeff was going to say something to him but decided to remain quiet for the moment. "Have you checked out the latest Finnish technology," began Del, "I mean, they're doing all sorts of things over there. Maybe this was a planned unplanned kind of thing." Jeff couldn't stop himself from speaking any longer. "I disagree. Why would they send him in, speaking a different language and all, not fitting in anywhere, lost?" "I don't know, really," Del snapped. She too, looked annoyed and right before she turned and strode away, said, "You figure it out if you want. Me, I'm just fine with this! You guys helped dream this up, now GO with it!" Jack and Matt laughed loudly for a second or two, reminding everyone that this was supposed to be fun, an adventure. After all, they'd planned a good part of it, and if it were all rehersed they may as well become a bunch of wooden actors instead of relaxing together on this island fantasy! Jeff and Michael looked at each other, shrugged, and wandered out. * * * Joe was *not* a happy camper. This species was progressed enough to play in virtual realities, and he'd been assured he'd be welcomed as part of *someone's* reality, even when the turf was a group idea. He never for ONE MINUTE expected to have a language problem, and had paid good money to visit this planet. He had no idea how he was going to go home, either, because his transporter had a big hole on the bottom. He was extremely surprised, however, when the virtual reality program concluded. When he vanished into air along with the fantasy, only Jack and Matt remained, shaking their heads and chuckling. -end- Copyright (c) 1993 Lucia Chambers