Elf Spat #4: The Wedding

(Chapter 3: A Mad Bachelor's Party)

(Captain Infinity)

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: <39a383a6.10174029@news-f.std.com>
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

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

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

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!

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

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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