To the body on the floor, whispering: 'shhh! Be quiet with that falling on the floor thing! Hit the floor 'quieter' next time, please!' Wanders off to listen to some silence with a bottle in hand.
If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore and preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God? - from 'Nightfall' by I. Asimov The Outcasts consider Siniestre Nube a sacred place for several reasons. Early explorers discovered a jumphole within the depths of the cloud that leads to a strange world of ringed stars and strange craft. All ships in the burrial ground are placed facing that hole to honor the Alien Spirits. - An Outcast rumor
"...I got a great idea! Let's all sing a Christmas carol...what!?! Don't look at me like that!
Come on now! 1,2,3 Silent night... Oh god! stop!
Oi you guys are a tone deaf bunch!"
Uh.. sorry, I had to rush in so fast, I thought it was a fire-alert.!!
You tried to sing "silent night" ? Oh, Ah, that explains a lot.
I only wanted to say, I am back from planet Xmas and will fly again. Sophie, some aqua-minerale please,
I cannot see any wine, beer or chamaign, anymore. And put away these beef-balls. I will not eat anything
for the next two years.
How nice it will be, with a package of cigarettes and a can of coffee in my Train.
I really hate this time of year.
"Sophie.. my warm breathing Sophie.. bring us a Sapphire 'n T, if you please." said Pops as he sauntered towards his usual table.
"Sorry to miss all the partying and good cheer, lads, but had a few guests on the Veranda for a quiet evening. We walked up the hill above the plantation, and warmed our souls on the sight of all the small Canarian hamlets alight for the Season."
"You know," mused Pops, "perhaps those simple peasants on Canaria have the right idea. They are very friendly and open, even to strangers. There's a lesson there.. it's hard to clench a fist when your hand is outstretched in greeting and peace. Perhaps it's a lesson the entire Sector could benefit from."
Cabover Pete saunters into Manhattan Bar. "Sophie, my usual please!"
"You seem in good spirits," says Sophie as she pours out some kind of fuming liquid into a glass.
"Yes," says Pete. "It took me an hour to scrape the gunk off the windshield of my freighter, and another 2 to hose rotten luxury food out the of hold, but I'm back in business!"
"I heard you took a turn", says Sophie, "we'd feared the worst."
"Mmmm..." says Pete with some pain in his voice. "My... recuperation did take a little longer than expected."
"So you're alright then? Fully recovered? No ill effects, like memory lapses or brain damage perhaps?"
"No... I'm perfectly sane, and I have the piece of paper to prove it."
It was at this point Pete notices, for the first time, the other patrons in the bar sniggering. Pete turns around to regard them. "Whassa matter?" he says, holding a rolled-up piece of paper for everyone to see, "Never seen a sane man before?"
"Yeah!" shouts out a shady-looking Junker, "but we're seeing a little bit *too* much!"
Pete counters with a look of utter confusion. At this point two Ageira medical techs appear in the doorway; one is carrying a bundle over her arm.
"Mr. Cabover Pete?" she yells from the doorway.
"That'd be me!" yells Pete in return. "Whassa problem?"
"Nothing, just that we'd like our gown back please!" she says rather testily, and throws the bundle of Pete's clothes at him.
So it was with profound chagrin Pete looks down and saw he is indeed still wearing a thin hospital gown -- the type which one wears on the front, and is tied at the back. With one's bare buttocks clearly showing, as Pete's are now.
"Well I thought it was a bit breezy" says Pete, and the bar erupted into laughter.
"Pete old chap, good to have you back ... Dress code please. Nice to see 'health' has returned you to the fold
Never a problem with *cough* medical problems round here for most of the VPs, seems more than one or two
can flash the piece of paper ... Just don't mention it when the renewal for the medical benefits comes up ...
Insurance rates are high enough now.
Get Romer off the floor now please, hes in my spot ... And remove the gag, think he got the point ...
New cocktail on the board tonight ... The Effing Server is the house special ...
Fills you up real quick, and then makes you crash ... what can I say ?"
Some say he is a proud member of: "The most paranoid group of people in the Community."
"Tanfs foor pimkin me uff....
Yeck...who did that? Never can tell with this bunch...
Lesson learned...no hippy sing-a-longs...not even on the holidays...
I'll have one of those Effing Servers....make it a double."
A small man walks into the bar. He is dressed well, and it could even be called a bit garish. The long coat and the big pointy hat look more than just awkward on the little man, but he moves with a grace and poise that makes heads and eyes follow him. He walks to the table that 'Pops' Waverly sits at ordering a drink. Flings the hat into a booth nearby, and drops the coat next to it. He pulls up a seat at 'Pops''s table.
"Heya Pops, not a bad spot you and the boys put together here. I might need to do this in Rhineland. Know any more good tenders?" The man looks to the bartender. "Ma'am, I'd like to get this round for the house. My Happy New Years to the Fellas and Lasses of IND. Good work over the last year. Mya Eris guide your next year the same, and help guide you to the Chao in you and keep it spinning wildly. In the name of Eris I bless this Round, for I am Mypie, Eski-pope of Rhineland."
As the bartender now known as Sophie, passed out the glasses and to a few, plastic. The pope raised his glass, "To the New Year, Eris blessed and Discord abundant. 23's Folks." He downed his drink.