Subject: The Poker Knight
Date: Thu, 10 Aug 2006 19:15:43 -0400
They told me I couldn’t take any liquids with me on the ship. Ha!
ha ha ha! What a funny joke, I thought. I laughed to myself, those
ha has were in my head. No liquids! Didn’t they know that I, a
human mammal creature, am largely composed of liquid?
“But sirs,” I began, “do you not realize, that I, a human mammal
creature am largely composed of liquids?” This was a mistake. They
had not previously realized this fact to be true, and I could tell
that it made them uncomfortable, because I got the distinct feeling
that a few of them might also be humans as well.
“No no,” said the small one, “you can bring liquids with you if they
are inside of you.”
“Do you mean inside of me in a purely physical sense, as in wrapped
within the fleshy confines of my epidermal layer? Or in a
metaphysical sense, as in a liquid that I am so tightly bonded to
that I consider it to be within my metaphysical sense of self might
travel with me on this ship? Do I need to drink this bottle of gin
to bring it’s contents on board, or might I simply promise that it’s
contents will become part of me at some future point in time? One
might say that the gin has always been inside of me, that the gin
will always be inside of me, so long as one is careful about one’s
perception of time.”
“The first one. Contained within your epidermal layer.” Said the
slightly larger, mousy one.
At this point it might be worth noting that I was returning from my
voyage with no fewer than three liters of the finest quality gin.
Top shelf stuff. There was not way I was leaving this behind. Plus
I was carrying a vial of chimpanzee adrenaline gland extract, for
science; a couple of vials of liquid LSD, also for science; a dozen
baby cuttlefish in a portable tank of saltwater, and the extracted
DNA of the fabled moon goddess of babylon, in solution.
“got a restroom around here?”
I used the first of the gin to get myself in the proper state. One
must be at peace with oneself if one plans to cut ones stomach open
and wrap one’s skin about their carry on. Plus those bastards had
already confiscated my knife.
I drank some more gin to help me think. There must be a way around
this. There was no way I was leaving behind my liquids.
I decided to bargain and left the restroom.
“Listen,” I said, “I’ll give you all a bottle of this here fine
quality alcohol and a crisp $20 bill if you all will just turn your
backs for just a sec ‘n you’ll never hear of me again”
“Actually, sir,” said the small one, “we had a meeting while you were
in the bathroom. We think the rules mean that you can’t take any
liquid at all with you. Not even the liquids you might consider to
be a ‘part’ of you.”
“But I am largely made of liquid!” I exclaim.
“yes. we realize that, and we’re willing to help you out. If you’ll
just step into this liquid extraction unit (pointing to a glass room
with lots of sharp looking objects pointing towards the center) we
can go ahead and ensure that you and your belongings comply to our
“You people are crazy!”
“Sir, we would of course reconstitute you when your voyage has come
to a peaceful, safe end. Keep in mind that your safety is our
primary concern. Unless, of course, you’re one of the scary people,
in which case we just want to compel you to use your strength of
imagination to come up with more clever ways to make yourself blow up
So I agreed to comply. What could I say? They had me. How could I
disagree with people who were so dedicated to protecting my safety.
I guess they lost me. I woke up in the middle of the ocean. Not
sure which one. I guess my desiccated body managed to seep the
liquids it needed to reconstitute itself from the ocean that seemed
to surround it for several miles in every direction. My belongings
were, of course, gone. Probably sank. Is that a vial bobbing up and
down over there?
Washing up on a desert island, having collected two of the bottles of
gin and the DNA of the moon goddess of babylon, I think myself
exceedingly lucky. I had wanted to go to a desert island anyway, but
couldn’t afford the ticket. The next several days were pretty good.
Then I ran out of gin. I realized I had quite a bad sun burn going.
No shelter. No food.
So as I shift into the past tense I decided I may as well down the
goddess juice and I drank it right down. That was how I developed my
strange powers. You know the ones. That’s also when the other gods
started to talk to me. They were nice enough to give me a ride
home. And in exchange, I invited them to join us all for
“first hand at nine”
Dangerhouse is XX XXXXXXXXX XX. #X
stone cold somerville, MA