Fear and Self-Loathing in Pablo's Bodega [Part IV]
Editors Note: You are currently reading Part IV 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
Recap:
You guys still want me to do the fucking recap? Seriously? Look, my stipend from the Orifice has been dwindling due to low readership. Why aren’t people reading the Orifice? Your guess is as good as mine. No publicity? Tasteless, low-budget material? God knows… Anyways, I’ve had to take up a part time job shoeing horses to keep the lights on. Times are tough, so I’d love it if you’d take a few minutes out of your busy schedule and stick around.
Muffled sounds of vomiting**
Ughhhhh… Oh god. Coughing** What happened to Xander last time? If my memory is correct, we started the story with a heavy-duty vape sesh. Upon terminating the cloud-making, our hero called Mitch to see what was going on with him. Most people would just send a text, but Xander’s sausage fingers make it impossible for him to type complex sentences on his phone’s keyboard. We learn that Mitch’s vape store was ransacked by an unknown perpetrator. But, between you and me, I’m pretty sure it was Shep. Just saying…
The last few installments of ‘Fear and Self-Loathing’ were super stressful. As the author, even I struggled to record the grim events that led up to this 4th act of Xander’s saga. I mean, can you imagine being ripped from the cockpit of your car and having mean things said to you by a blackout drunk NASA agent? Like, woah. Not cool.
20,000 Clouds Under the Sea
Lake Seminole, Georgia. Known for bass fishing and duck hunting. Conveniently located 100 miles west of Xander’s current location in the plotline, and exactly where he was driving. An unassuming reservoir in an unassuming location.
The sun rose slowly as Xander finished his breakfast fries while simultaneously vaping and butt-chugging a chai latte. Cheeky rays of light bounced off his wraparound shades and refracted through the greasy salt crystals embedded in his chin-strap beard. EDM vibrated every rivet in the car, sending tremors through the Earth and setting off several nearby seismometers. The bass sent him into a light vision quest, where he was at once everything and nothing. He was an obese three-eyed wolf taking fat rips on a jagged cliff, staring into the abyss of every cloud ever vaped and ever to be vaped. A bright, healing presence broke through the clouds, and whispered the secrets of the universe into Xander’s ethereal ear. He grew wings, and leapt from the ledge, instantly assimilating into the atmosphere… Choking on a bit of French fry, Xander was slammed back into reality. The shock realigned both his lower back and his chakras.
A tear of pure bliss fell from our hero’s eye. He flipped open the top of his gear shift knob, exposing a bejeweled skull button carved out of pure emerald. Licking his lips in anticipation, Xander caressed the button with his fingers. He inhaled deeply, and shrieked, “the devil is in the details!” After a series of science-fictionesque clicks and whirs, the windows of the Plymouth rolled up. A long, thin air tube extended from the roof and immediately began venting Xander’s clouds from the cabin of the vehicle. The sick spoiler on the trunk transformed into a large propeller. “Pedal to the metal,” he yodeled, accelerating the car to a reasonable crawl as not to disturb the local wildlife. The Plymouth languidly rocketed towards the edge of the reservoir. After an excruciating 40 minutes of driving, Xander checked his mirrors and put on his hazards as the front wheels gingerly touched the water’s edge. A mere hour later, and the car was completely submerged. He affixed the safety snorkel to the top of his vape to assure it received proper air flow under water.
In keeping with the theme, the dashboard flipped around, revealing a bunch of maritime navigation instruments. “Dry as a bone,” chuckled Xander as he dove deeper into the murky water. An ominous blip appeared on the screen of the radar. “That must be it!” he screamed, attempting overpower the EDM even though nobody else was in the car. He turned on autopilot and removed a tome from the bookshelf to bide the time.
The car plunged into a tangled forest of seaweed and single-use plastic packaging, engulfing the cabin in a teething obscurity. For a moment, the radar went blank. Xander tapped at the screen for a while, and eventually accepted that Jah would carry him to his destination regardless of the shortcomings of modern technology. He settled back into his chair, and reopened The Life and Strange Surprizing Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, Of York, Mariner: Who lived Eight and Twenty Years, all alone in an un-inhabited Island on the Coast of America, near the Mouth of the Great River of Oroonoque; Having been cast on Shore by Shipwreck, wherein all the Men perished but himself. With an Account how he was at last as strangely deliver'd by Pyrates.
…which, I’ll have you know, is truly that book’s full title. Crazy, right?
The forest cleared into an open sandy plain. The instruments fizzled back to life as the last pieces of trash floated away from the windshield. A dim speck of light appeared in the distance, steadily expanding into a heady neon orb. Xander carefully dog-eared his page and reassumed his position in the captain’s chair. “Siri, activate stealth mode!” The car’s lights clicked off, and the vape snorkel retracted back into the body of the vehicle. He painstakingly grasped the volume knob on the stereo. “Better safe than sorry,” Xander whispered, remembering the time he and Mitch got a noise violation and a misdemeanor for blasting EDM at New Greece’s mayoral palace to protest the closure of the town’s snapback hat store. With pain in his eyes, Xander managed to turn the knob a full 5 degrees before collapsing in anguish.
Xander killed the engine, and the Plymouth drifted to the reservoir floor. Before him, perfectly hidden several yards under the surface of the water, was an ominous orb with thin stilted legs. Our hero wondered how he could break in unnoticed. “You can’t make an omelet without burning some coils,” he misquoted, reaching into his glove compartment and pulling out his clippers. Bzzzzzzzzzzz. In an instant, the chinstrap beard was removed, and Xander was free to blend into any social circle. He swallowed his sunglasses whole and tucked his box mod into his belly button where nobody would find it.
Xander turned the car on and circled the underwater base several times before locating the parking lot. Pulling in, he was shocked to find a gate. He held his breath and rolled down the window. Water shot into the cabin as Xander stretched as far as he could to push the button. Click. The ticket shot out of the machine and into Xander’s eager hand. “These meat-eaters better validate!” he gurgled, water rushing into his lungs.
Darkness.
Area 420
“Dude! Hello, dude? Yo!” Xander opened his eyes to the sensation of repeatedly being slapped in the face. “Hey, dumbass, you could have drowned! What were you doing underwater at this hour of day?” Xander looked around, confused. Blinding fluorescent lights beamed down onto his tender face. He was lying on a cot in a small windowless room. I must be inside, he thought, score! Locating the source of the voice, he froze. Shep Lobsterberg stood before him, drunk as ever. Our hero discretely prayed to Jah and took a quick vape rip to gather his senses. He burped out the cloud. Lobsterberg’s nose twitched. “What was that?” he demanded.
Xander needed an excuse, and fast. “Uhhhh, nothing,” he responded, “no idea what you’re talking about, hermano.” The piss drunk NASA agent looked Xander in the eye, clearly failing to recognize him without his distinctive chinstrap beard and wraparound shades. “And, to answer your question, I am traveling for work, and figured I would take the scenic route through the reservoir. Though, I feel like I took a wrong turn. I was hoping to stop at the fair-trade juice co-op… Uh…. I mean, stop at the Arby’s.” Lobsterberg, cross-eyed, looked slightly puzzled but was totally buying it. The agent regained his composure as best he could while holding himself upright against the wall. “Alright buster, that checks out. Now, you def took a wrong turn, because Arby’s is a purely land-based restaurant. If you want, I can point you in the right direction…”
Lobsterberg left the room to fetch an atlas, permitting Xander to continue his mission. Our hero rolled out of the bed and spent a moment thrashing on the ground before he could regain his balance. “Gotta get my sea legs,” he noted, not realizing that the expression only applies to boats. He searched for bugs by repeatedly slamming his face against the wall. Tasting no trace of microphones, he tried the door. Turning the handle with all his might, Xander eventually realized it was a push door. “Righteous,” he whispered, flashing a discrete vape nation sign before tiptoeing into the hallway and flipping off the nearest security camera. He flattened himself as flat as he could against the wall and shuffled towards the end of the hallway. The shrill sound of his sweaty back sliding against the chrome was muffled only by his heavy breathing. Hearing Lobsterberg’s trademark moans, our hero slipped into a conveniently located closet. He held his breath as Shep searched for him in the other room. “You’ll never find the Arby’s without this map, you fool,” he heard. After a solid five minutes of coughing, Xander heard snores. Tuckered out, Lobsterberg must have taken a little catnap. “Carpe diem,” Xander tapped to himself in Morse code. He slipped back out of the closet and continued his adventure.
Remembering his original mission, Xander took the opportunity to open his olfactory glands and sniff for vapor. The unmistakable odor of mesquite barbecue vape juice entered his nostrils and caused his pupils to dilate. He spun around several times to orient himself and slammed his nose to the floor. “Finally, things are working out my way,” he scatted. Xander shuffled towards the source of the smell.