From: Infinity@world.std.com (Captain Infinity) Subject: Captain Infinity's Adventures in Beaverland, Chapter 3 Date: 21 Aug 2000 00:00:00 GMT Message-ID: <firstname.lastname@example.org> Distribution: world,galaxy,universe,infinity Organization: http://world.std.com/~Infinity Newsgroups: alt.fan.tom-servo,alt.bitch.pork Captain Infinity's Adventures in Beaverland, Chapter 3 "A Mad Bachelor's Party" Spooge (the baby ferret) was busy sniffing my shoe, getting ready to give it an experimental bite. I scooped him up and told him how beautiful he was. I took a few more pictures of the furry gang, which you can see at http://world.std.com/~Infinity/images/canada/ferrets.htm Then I turned to Jaime and asked, "So where did Beth go?" Jaime, still a bit out of breath from the exertion of forcing out the giant crap which had kept him busy in the can for the first twenty minutes of my visit, replied, "She's cleaning the bathroom." This, to my mind, was an extraordinary situation. If I had entertained any doubts about the strength of "love" in this relationship (and I had) they were banished with his statement. I'm a fairly strong guy, but I know that I could not summon up the strength of will to go into that bathroom immediately after he vacated it, and certainly not to *clean* it. The fact that Beth had that inner fortitude impressed me deeply. Jaime lives in a student housing building. The residents of the house all pitch in to share the duties of running the place, keeping it fixed up, cooking the meals, etc. You know...Communism. Beth re-emerged eventually and told us the horror story of the bathroom, which I gathered from her description is one area of the house which no one has claimed as their own responsibility. She's got guts, I'll tell you that. We played with the ferrets for a while longer, and then some friends of Jaime's arrived, Marc and Loris. Nice guys. We chatted a bit, and I learned that Jaime had trained them in their army regiment, and both were accomplished soldiers and were now serving the community as officers in the local police force. Which is why it really wasn't too much of a surprise when they produced hand and ankle cuffs and chained Jaime's hands and feet. Jaime was placed under arrest. He asked what the charges were and told he'd learn soon enough. I've since forgotten the rights they read him, but I know that one of them was the right to drink heavily. Beth was allowed a goodbye hug&kiss, and she made it clear that it would be in the officer's best interests to make sure Jaime made it to their wedding. Sober if at all possible. Jaime was shuffled out of the house and into Marc's car. We drove to the regiment's mess hall, which I explored while Jaime hobbled upstairs to the second floor. We sat in a makeshift courtroom and swapped humorous stories and drank for a while, waiting for other members of the regiment to arrive. None ever did (Jaime can explain why better than I) so the trial began. I was selected at the last minute to be Jaime's defense counsel. I asked what the charges were and was told I didn't need to know. This, of course, made my job a bit harder. Or was it easier? I'm wasn't really sure. So I had another beer. mmmMMMMmmm, beeer. Jaime was charged with several crimes, including packing a rucksack so heavily that junior officers couldn't lift it (it held a hardbound copy of the complete works of William Shakespeare and a cappuccino machine, among other things), being too loud during intimate relations (while living in a dormitory...fellow students nicknamed him "Captain Screamer"), bashing his way past other students and charging into a TV room filled with people watching "Beverly Hills 90210" and changing the channel to "Star Trek: The Next Generation", and smuggling a horse into the Dean's office and giving it a heart attack by shooting it with a pistol full of blanks. No, wait...that's "Animal House". Ignore that one. He was found guilty on every charge but one, and with each guilty verdict a different mix of drinks was poured into his canteen, which the judge (Marc) ordered him to drink. When it was my turn to fill the canteen I had the bartender pour some of the good stuff in it: Glenfiddich. Oh, and a beer. The mix was rather smooth, actually (I tasted it. After all, he was my client.) Oh, I hear you. "Crappy defense counsel," you're saying, "if he only got off on one charge." Well screw you, it was a kangaroo court. Plus, he was guilty anyway, and more power to him. The charge I got him off on was the Star Trek thing. I pointed out that he was doing the students a favor by changing the channel from "90210" to "Next Gen". "They should have been shot!" Jaime shouted at one point, but by this time he was pretty smashed. Anyway, Marc agreed with me and ordered that everybody *else* had to drink. Which was fine with me and Loris. After a while it became clear that Jaime was three sheets to the wind, drunk as a skunk, coming at us from two directions, and peeped. So when he got up to visit the men's room (still with hands and feet chained up) the second phase of Marc & Loris' plan for the evening went into effect. A stretcher was brought up from downstairs, and when Jaime emerged from the bathroom he was hustled onto it and taped to it. Duct taped to it. He was too smashed to put up much of a fight, so he just giggled a lot. Then we left him there and cleaned up the Mess, which by this time was a mess. Then we carried him downstairs...no small feat, because Jaime is a big guy. The front door was open and as we reached the bottom steps Jaime got a look outside and exclaimed, "I see a truck!" As we carried him outside he got a look at what was hitched to the pickup truck and he exclaimed, "I see a boat!" OK, so, here's the thing: Kingston Ontario is located on the shore of Lake Ontario. And this is what these friends of Jaime had planned: drive to a local launching site, hustle the heavily bound Jaime into the boat, launch, row to a nearby island, carry the snockered Jaime ashore, strip him nude, duct tape him to a tree...and leave. "How is he going to get home?" I asked, a bit concerned. "That's *his* problem," Marc replied. "What if he misses the wedding?" "Nah. Somebody will hear him screaming long before then." "What if he tries to swim ashore?" "Shouldn't be a problem. The island's only 50 feet offshore. The real trick will be getting home without any clothes on." So we drove to the lake. Jaime lay in the back of the truck, watched over by Loris to make sure he didn't slide out the back (the tailgate had to stay open; the stretcher was very long.) So we drove to the lake. It was very dark out, and I worried a bit about how well we would be able to see what we were doing when we rowed out and got to the island. So we drove to the lake. Strange, it didn't seem that it would take this long to get there; the lake is local. And big. You can't miss it. It's a *Great* lake. So we drove to the...y'know, I think Marc is lost. OK, here's the other thing: whoever put this plan together neglected to scout out a launching site for the boat. STOP LAUGHING, THIS ISN'T FUNNY! THIS IS PATHETIC! We eventually found ourselves at a dead-end, at a potentially likely place where maybe we could possibly launch, if we could get close enough to the shore. But we couldn't. We were on private property. The homeowner was watching us through the window of his house. Marc tried to back out, but the truck/trailer combination was too long to maneuver. Loris climbed out to help Marc turn around. Once we were headed in the opposite direction I traded places with Loris, and climbed in back with Jaime, who appeared to be snoozing. Passed out? No, just taking it easy. As we drove out of the woods and back into Kingston proper he opened his eyes and was able to tell me where we were by the sight of the street lights and traffic lights alone. Hmmm, not so drunk as I thought he was. We looked at the stars and talked of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings. Neither of us had any idea where we were headed now. Nor, I suspected, did the co-plotters sitting in the cab of the truck. Loris had removed Jaime's hand and ankle cuffs at some point, and now Jaime decided to get comfortable. He had worried away and ripped through the duct tape which bound him to the stretcher. So now he was free. And at the next stoplight he tried to take advantage of it; he jumped up and tried to flee. Still, he had been drinking quite a bit more than me, and since I knew that if he were to escape he'd miss all the fun that was sure to come, I jumped after him and dragged him back into the truck bed. Marc and Loris emerged and re-taped him. Then we drove to a park on the university grounds, by a jogging lane that ran along the lake shoreline. We all sat on a bench for a while, and then Marc and Loris grabbed Jaime and started duct-taping him to the bench. Several joggers came along as this obviously illegal process occurred, and Jaime greeted them in good (drunken) spirits, perhaps to let them know they need not be concerned and try to leap to his aid. Most found it amusing. Some sped right by without a second glance. (These last types bothered me...we could have been gang-banging him and they wouldn't have cared. You humans are a weird and unpredictable species.) When he was fully bound we stood around for a while, chatting and laughing. Then we abandoned him. Okay, it wasn't a tree on an island, but he wasn't going anywhere, just the same. As we were driving out of the park we looked back...to see Jaime give a single huge lunge, stand, and tear himself free. It was pretty impressive. The guy is a bull. A whole roll of duct tape, torn away in seconds. Yow. Then he started running. Away. Marc gave chase in the truck, trying to predict where he would emerge on the university grounds. We caught sight of him at several points, and zipped around the neighborhood in order to head him off. But eventually we lost him. After a while Loris suggested that he had found a way past us and gone home. So we drove to his house, and sure enough we could see him through the front window, inside the living room, hugging Beth. He had beat us. We waved to him, in case he could see us through the window. Then we drove back to the regiment's mess. The strippers were there waiting for us; we were late. There were three of them, which worked out just right for the three of us (we were thankful at this point that the other officers Marc had expected never showed up.) At this point I am unable to continue my story. Because I was the only "unattached" guy there (Marc is married, Loris had a GF) the other two made me promise not to divulge the details. So you'll just have to use your imagination. Later that night I dreamed about the baby ferret. In my dream, his name was revealed to me: Wolfgang. Pronounced "Vulfgaaang". This has nothing to do with any of the above bachelor party stuff, but I wanted some closure on the ferret anecdote. The next chapter details the day of the wedding. ** Captain Infinity ..."There I am, standing naked in a bathroom on my wedding day, and all I can think is 'Captain Infinity is outside in the hall. This is going to be all over Usenet'. You have to promise you won't post about this until after I do." --TheWitch "I promise." --Captain Infinity (breaking his promise)
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