Fear and Self-Loathing in Pablo's Bodega [Part V]

Editors Note: You are currently reading Part V of an ongoing yarn.
Part I: https://www.magnumorifice.org/classic-orifice/fear-and-self-loathing-in-pablos-bodega
Part II: https://www.magnumorifice.org/classic-orifice/fear-and-self-loathing-in-pablos-bodega-part-ii
Part III: https://www.magnumorifice.org/classic-orifice/fear-and-self-loathing-in-pablos-bodega-part-iii

Part IV: https://www.magnumorifice.org/blog/fear-and-self-loathing-in-pablos-bodega-part-iv

Recap:

Are you guys serious? Another fucking recap? Do you have any idea how much these things cost?

Ok, fine. The customer is always right. Can I get you a cushion? Perhaps an aperitif?

Ummmm. So last installment of Fear and Self-Loathing was pretty wild. I mean, you would have to have been there, but that shit was nuts.

Following the incidents of Act 3, an itching desire to find reparations for Mitch’s vape shop, and a thirst for the unknown, our hero fearsomely followed his GPS to Lake Seminole in Georgia, a conveniently placed landmark in the chaotic and poorly-planned tale of Xander Williams.

With reckless disregard for all reasonable decision making, Xander drove his car straight into the arcane broth of the lake. This moment surely shocked you, dear reader, as the average car is not suited for underwater travel. Thankfully, all Plymouth vehicles manufactured between 1997 and 2002 shipped with satellite radio, luxurious pleather seating, and a submarine conversion kit. This saved Xander from an embarrassing self-induced drowning.

While subversing (underwater traversing) the lake, Xander happened upon a mysterious sci-fi structure. Convinced he had found NASA’s secret lake-base, our hero was compelled to explore…

I mean, if he didn’t explore it, how else would I have written myself out of the hole I continue to dig myself into with each instalment of Fear and Self-Loathing in Pablo’s Bodega?

Anyways… Forced to enter stealth protocol, our hero did the unthinkable. Though he could not bring himself to silence his EDM, he managed to amputate his beloved chinstrap beard, rendering himself indistinguishable from about 92% of all non-vapers. A brief tangle with death in the structure’s carpark, and Xander found himself face-to-face with his old nemesis, Shep Lobsterberg. Hastily adopting the persona of a wayward Arby’s customer, our hero outsmarted the piss-drunk NASA agent yet again. Lobsterberg, a devout zealot of meat-based foods, tasked himself with finding a map to the restaurant for the anonymous beardless man he had found half-drowned near the carpark elevator. Seizing the opportunity to sneak out, Xander absconded into the base to do some exploring…

From Georgia with Love

Xander had his nose to the floor. Faint wisps of mesquite barbecue tickled his nostrils. He was the at once the sniffing eye dog and its master. Years of heavy vaping had formed Xander into a formidable directional smeller. This unique skill allowed him to map odours much like the average human can locate stuff by hearing… You know, like listening for your car's beep to locate it in a parking lot.

Assuming a tripod position, Xander began sliding his face across the floor, using his legs as little motors to propel himself forward. He shot down the hallway at an alarmingly slow pace. Making racecar noises as he turned corners, our hero snaked through the narrow corridors of the underwater lab. Little by little, the fluorescent hallway lights became a single glowing blur as Xander accelerated towards normal walking speed. Developing acute tunnel vision, our hero totally spaced out and reached down to check his phone. Distracted, he failed to come to a complete stop at an intersection and mistakenly bumped into an table of lab equipment. He froze and held his breath. CRASH! A single Erlenmeyer flask tipped gently onto its side, colliding with the slick stainless steel of the tabletop and nearly shattering.

A gruff feminine voice echoed around the corner. “Did you hear that? Who’s there?”

Xander’s ears quivered as he listened. A single bead of sweat dropped from his scrunched brow. His heart vibrated hard enough to cause ripples to jiggle across his belly. The cacophony of aggressive approaching footsteps amplified with each passing millisecond. His cover blown, Xander was forced to transition into battle mode. He pressed himself as flat as he could against the wall and hoped nobody would see him. Fortunately, his sickly albino complexion camouflaged him perfectly against the chalk-white walls of the sea-base.

The tippity tappity of shoes echoed louder and louder against the metallic walls of the base. The smell of leather soles was unmistakable. Our hero felt a vegan shriek building bubbling up from the darkest regions of his loins. He bit his tongue to stay silent. All of a sudden, several people in futuristic NASA uniforms turned the corner and began searching for the intruder. Xander remained unnoticed, standing nearly perfectly still, only letting out the occasional wheeze. The agents looked puzzled. “Look at the table,” hissed one agent. The whole troupe turned to observe the felled flask. “An intruder!” shrieked the others in unison. “But where could they be?” inquired the first. 

Standing mere inches from our hero’s face were three of the meanest looking NASA agents you ever did see. They were dressed in typical sea-lab fashion: revealing neoprene bikinis, knee-high leather flip flops, and chrome swim caps embellished with the NASA vape-division logo. Each brandished a different kind of antiquated sea-weapon. Xander felt like a malnourished goldfish in a tank of Siamese fighting fish.

“AHHHHHHRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHH! You’ll never find the Arby’s without this map you idiot!” The agents went silent as Shep’s gruff voice echoed down the hall. They their raised their eyebrows at one another and sheathed their weapons. Freed by his own dimwitted nemesis, Xander stole around the corner and shuffled as quietly as he could away from the agents. “Saved by the bell,” he whispered, stomach grumbling from the stress.

The Clouded Window

Xander reached the end of the corridor and stopped to take a breather. He plopped down on the ground and let his throbbing thighs rest against the cool linoleum floor. “Woah, my chakras are totally misaligned after that,” he rapped. He closed his eyes began a brief meditative seance. Once his heartrate fell to its typical irregular rhythm, he thrashed around on the ground, eventually finding a handhold to drag himself upright. As his vision regained focus, Xander noticed the unearthly silence of the room. The sound of water flowing past the outer walls of the sea base was cut only by the hum of the oxygen vents. To the left was an austere lab full of dissected vapes strapped down to operating tables. Our hero shuddered at the massacre and took a moment to pray for the fallen. “May Jah be with you,” he wheezed, kissing each individual box mod.

Famished from several stressful hours on the run, Xander hunted about the room for snacks. He chanced upon a shelf of tantalizing bottles full of colorful liquids. He pulled his reading glasses out of his belly button and perched them atop the tip of his nose. Glycerin, eucalyptol, camphor, methyl salicylate, pulegone, ethyl salicylate… Xander immediately recognized the chemical ingredients of vape juice. “When in Rome,” he cackled, placing a lab funnel into his throat and pouring each bottle into the awaiting abyss. Approaching the end of the shelf, Xander felt his stomach filling to completion. He was left with a single bottle, artificial mesquite barbecue flavoring. “One more couldn’t hurt,” he giggled, shaking with excitement.

He grabbed the bottle, but found it adhered to the rack. He grasped at its sides with both hands and yanked as hard as he could. CLICK. The bottle tipped back 45 degrees and shot out of Xander’s grasp. The rack split in two, each side whirring away, revealing an imposing metal door. “Finally, a hint!” Above the door there was a sign stating, ‘Official Personnel Only.’ Beside the text was the unmistakable image of a box mod. In the middle of the door was a porthole shielded by thick metal bars. Unfortunately, Xander was too short to look inside and lacked the musculature to stand on his tippy toes long enough to get a good peek. From his disadvantageous position, our hero just barely noticed a thick grey mist seething against the glass. It undulated in a continuous flow, constantly rising from an unknown source and recirculating as it reached its zenith. “This must be the vape of lore!” he hollered, popping an imperceptible boner.

Eyes watering with anticipation, Xander drew his attention to the task of surpassing the metal barrier which lay in front of him. He shuffled up to the door handle. It was locked tight. He lacked the biometric identification to enter. Xander wailed in agony. “Not cool, dude!” He fell to the ground and curled up into a ball. He prepared to turn himself in to the NASA agents and accept whatever fate might befall him.

Suddenly, the image of Mitch’s destroyed vape shop appeared in his reptile brain. He remembered the promise made on that faithful night before he left New Greece. His stomach cramped and the flow of sweat from his upper back to his butt-crack dried into a light, flaky crust. “When there’s a will, there’s a way,” he coughed, slamming his face against the cold metal and gnawing with all his might.

Our hero’s powerful jowls gained traction on the surface of the door. SCREEEEEEE! What began as thin shreds of metal soon grew into formidable chunks flying in every direction as Xander’s face melted into a chaotic blur. His feet lifted off the ground and floated perpendicular to the door. He pirouetted, throwing himself into a rotation. He became a human drill bit burrowing slowly, but surely through the mysterious metal door.

WHOOOSH! Xander made it through the door. The resulting depressurization of the vape fill chamber shot our hero across the room. He crashed into the fire alarm, causing the sprinklers to ejaculate frigid water from the ceiling. It sprayed everywhere, soaking our hero and causing a significant ruckus. His shirt assumed the contour of his body as it became heavier and heavier. He tried repeatedly to regain balance but kept slipping on the wet tile floor.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed around the corridor, hinting to Xander that his time was limited. He slip n’ slided into the middle of the lab, and managed to gain hold of a wheely chair which he used to stand himself back upright. Nauseated from the blood rushing to his head, our hero burped up some vape juice from his snack and immediately swallowed it back down. The residual nicotine rush blasted him back into fighting mode. He tried his best to make it back to the mysterious cloud filled room, but the NASA agents were too quick. Before Xander had crossed half the distance to the door, they were already standing at the lab’s entrance, weapons drawn. Breathing heavily, Xander pointed a menacing finger at the agent. “Sticks and stones my break my bones, but meat-eaters will never hurt me,” he hissed. He assumed the best karate pose he could—legs spread, belly hanging out of the bottom of his shirt, arms flailing.

The mist from the sprinklers hitting the ground grew steadily into an impenetrable fog. Fortunately, years of driving in a vape filled car had seasoned our hero for sight in blurry situations. Xander seized the opportunity to beach himself on one of the lab tables unnoticed and gain higher ground over his enemies. He prepared for holy vape warfare. “DEUS VAPE,” he shrieked, reaching around in his belly button for his phone.

Mission Vapepossible

The NASA agents managed to turn off the fire alarm. As the mist cleared, they noticed Xander standing menacingly on top of a lab table, brandishing a phone in his hand. The agents erupted in laughter. “You really expect to beat us with that, you fool?” The main agent took several steps forward and pointed her harpoon towards our dear hero. She looked him in the eye and said, “look buster, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. We just want to know what you’re doing down here in our lab. A little chit chat, so to speak. Why don’t you just come on down and nobody gets hurt?”

Xander let out a hearty chuckle of his own, wriggling with excitement at the ignorance of the agents. “Wrong again,” he yodeled, wedging his phone deep into his neck crease and smashed play on his soundcloud app. The EDM soundwaves reverberated through his body, amplifying the bass tenfold. The blast knocked all the glassware off the lab tables. It smashed against the walls with a violence comparable to that of a high velocity condor flying headfirst into the side of a cliff. Glass shards were flung across the floor, creating an impenetrable shield against the tender flipflopped feet of the NASA agents. Hairline cracks formed on the windows, allowing a thin yet persistent flow of lake water to trickle into the building. The agents looked at each other and panicked. In unison, they threw their hands up in the air, and began running around in circles with crazed looks in their eyes.

Our hero smashed his face through the lab’s fume hood, retrieving a formidable vape from underneath. The box mod was airbrushed with radical flames. Xander made a mental note to mention it to Mitch as soon as he was on dry land. He ripped off his sick orange XXXL Thrasher t-shirt and tied knots at the sleeves, creating a perfect airtight seal. He put the shirt back on and began furiously vaping into it, taking breaks to breath heavily with his hands on his knees. Our hero felt himself lighten as the shirt ballooned progressively larger around his curvaceous form. Equilibrium achieved, Xander’s feet disconnected with the ground and he began to float towards the air vent at the ceiling.

Lobsterberg slid into the scene with a glob of saliva dripping down his bestubbled chin. “You’re never gonna fit through there, my man. There is a door right over there that leads you to the parking lot! God this guy is dumb. Dude, you’re gonna need your car to drive to Arby’s. Nobody walks a drive-through!”

Lobsterberg paused to regard the scene unfolding around him. Several of his colleagues were running around in circles with their arms in the air, and water was pouring into his shoes. He looked around and saw the film of glass shards preventing his entry into the room. The cogs began turning, and his eyes brightened for a moment. Concluding that something was wrong, he grabbed his hipflask and began chugging. After vomiting several times and swearing about his ex-wife, Shep realized who the cleanshaven man floating to the ceiling was. “Oh my fuck, it’s you!” he shrieked, smashing his fist against the wall. “Well, I’ll be damned, Xander fucking Williams, I cannot believe you outsmarted me again. I am so in trouble for this when my boss finds out!” He too threw his arms up in the air and began running in circles, as was official NASA emergency protocol.

Xander flashed a defiant look at his adversary. “Arby’s isn’t on the menu tonight, Lobsterberg.” The top of the air vent grazed our hero’s head. He reached above to remove the grate, but his inflated form did not allow enough movement. “When there’s a will there’s a way,” he whispered. He put on his hazards and performed a low-speed midair three-point turn. He stretched his butt cheeks to their breaking point and managed to grasp the grate between their vice-like grip. “Better safe than sorry!” The grate was responsibly pulled away from the wall. It crashed to the floor and Xander was sucked feet-first into the cavity above.