Surfing the Pond
It seems as though I have incurred the wrath of the Elders. I came to this apparently shocking conclusion one Saturday afternoon in a park. A rather dull and pointless park, with a certain lack of animals that even spies won’t tread on this barren soil. So here I was in my sanctum, my own private sanctuary. Here I was minding my own business writing with a perfect sense of reclusion from the world. Then, nothing.
I was awoken by the sunshine through the curtains of indistinct age and smell. It didn’t take for the pain to take a baseball bat to me. One eye wouldn’t open the other staring at the blood on my brand new shirt of uncertain origins. The head pounding to the beat of several wrong drummers. And with sides screaming from a tortured seared feeling from the inside. Now I was left with one option. Standing up, which was followed by the sitting back down. The excruciating pain was too much.
How did they find me, and who were they? What would they want with me, these questions were bugging me. I had my secrets, but as with most secrets, I kept them to myself, I had no way of being known. Survey the surroundings, I notice this was all too familiar, I should’ve known where I was. I knew I was in a basement at least, I had no clue however where I was in the world. The place reeked of the stench of an upstart secret organisation, which could explain my current situation, I too was part of a secret organisation, which is very well-known, and maybe they needed my experience and know-how. As you can see my ego was never hurt by this strange turn in events.
Suddenly a door opens, the light was blinding, it was burning my eye with the heat of a thousand suns. Two large figures step out of the light, these were bouncers and I was quite willing to them a run for their money. They were gorillas with the intelligence of goons. Enforcers. Enforcers clad in cheap suits but with an elegance that could only be English. How did I end up back home, I was on assignment on the other side infiltrating core organisations. There was no way I was still there, these guys had too much style to be Americans. I should’ve taken this as a hint. Should’ve, would’ve, could’ve but didn’t. Guess I wasn’t as smart as I thought I was. Such a shame that was.
Unfortunately they just stood there side by side at the doorway, the wind whistling between their ears. Obviously waiting for something. Something was going down, an execution, I thought maybe. What could I have done to deserve this sorry state of affairs? This was the end; I had become too open, too well-known for my own good. Maybe I was considered the leader of a soon-to-be coup d’etat. But that was too much; I am just the instigator against the mundane life.
Two more figures stepped into the frame. Faces from a past all too close to me. One short, the other taller but he was still no match for my soaring height. Their eyes were glistening from the sun. But now I was on familiar grounds. I was in somewhat of a comfort zone.
“All right guys, what the ____ is going on?” My language another thing not hurt by situation.
“Doosh, calm down, all will be revealed in due time.” The shorter one replied, he answered to BigAl amongst other variations of pseudonyms.
“Don’t give me that bull___; I demand to know the meaning of this.”
The taller one spoke now with a little more clarity and confusion.
“The master isn’t very happy with your performance as a writer.”
“Shut up Lang, we are under strict orders, and besides which we don’t really know. And why do you have to always call Gorf, master? It gives us the status of mindless plonkers following the orders blindly of some mystical occult figure. He is only Ed, yeah he holds a power as leader but we all grew up together, we’re mates. So quit with the mindless drone talk, Lang!”
Before Lang could make some sort of witty reply to BigAl’s unusual display of anger, Ed walked in with a Magnum .45. This was strange, his Smith and Wesson was always in his hands, what could’ve happened to it.
“What happened to Ol’ Reliable, Ed?” I asked with obvious inquisitiveness, and confusion.
“Bored, and found a more powerful weapon to scare. Obviously the converse has to deal with the current situation of the contract negotiations.” Ed’s reply leaving me in an utter state of confusion and anger.
“You brought me home for contract negotiations, last time there wasn’t a problem. My demands are minimal; I work for nothing after all! There was absolutely no need for the goons either!” My temper had risen to the level of Krakatoa.
“Well, actually it’s not just contract negotiations, your articles have gotten beyond obsessive, to some what political and with the inception of the new department, we certainly need the eyes.”
Now the story starts to deteriorate into pointless dribble. Apparently my latest escapades of similarity which made me so famous were starting to affect our latest into FIN. Which would not be very beneficial for the lot of us. A change in subject matter was at hand, a new leaf; a new chapter had to be opened up on the other side. I was 21 after all, and my affect has been relatively minimal on the government which means a whole new scheme has to be hatched. Luckily I had something in mind, something to blow the perspectives out of whack. Food for the soul, something so minutely significant that the ripple effect of the pebble will cause a tidal wave of revolts against the status quo. What could have this effect on the world, a story of two friends living on the other side. A foreigner and a native slowly cracking away at the fabrics of society till their eventual destruction. But with this fire, the phoenix shall rise from the ashes.
So from the land of the new, and rebirth. I bid you adieu.
