PREVIOUSLY ON BOOKSHELF Q. BATTLER AND THE MEANING OF LIFE…
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“Welcome to the Third World International Airport,” the announcer said. “We’d tell you what country you are in, but we don’t want to offend the 3.5 people reading this story.”
Inside the airport, Vicky and I walked through the hustle and bustle.
A boy ran up to me with a bundle of roses and yanked on my shirt tail.
“Mr. American sir!” the boy said. “Buy some flowers for your pretty wife!”
I looked at Vicky. She giggled. I grinned.
“She’s not my uh…OK kid. How much?”
“Five hundred US Dollars,” the boy said.
“Get outta’ here!”
“OK,” the boy said. “You drive a hard bargain. Five US dollars!”
“One US dollar!” I said.
“What?” the boy asked. “Your wife isn’t worth five dollars?”
A notorious skinflint, Bookshelf Q. Battler (BQB) was so smitten with Video Game Rack Fighter (VGRF) that he shelled out five, count em, five big ones for some posies. He really did. Moths flew out of his wallet and everything.
Damn it. Trapped by a little street vendor’s logic. I pulled a fiver out of my wallet and handed it to him. He gave the rose to Vicky.
“Why thank you, Ed,” Vicky said. “I’m flattered.”
We found a table and sat down.
“So,” Vicky said. “I told you I’m going to visit the Great Guru so I can ask him about the meaning of life. You never told me why you’re going to Pango-Tango.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, funny you mention it, I’m also trying to visit the Great Guru.”
Vicky’s beautiful eyes blossomed.
“You are?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Do you want to know the meaning of life too?” she asked.
I didn’t want to lie. But I didn’t want another Blandie on my hands either.
“My company,” I said. “Beige Corp. They sent me to uh…make a sales call. Yeah. That’s it. The Great Guru wants to by some beige products and accessories for his sanctuary.”
“Wow,” Vicky said. “Beige?”
“Yeah.”
“The Guru must have really boring taste.”
“Yeah.”
Vicky scratched her head.
“You know,” she said. “This might sound dumb, but I have no idea what to do now.”
“Me neither,” I said. “I just bought a ticket to “Somewhere in the Third World” because that’s the closest the airlines will take you to Pango-Tango.”
“Me too!” Vicky said. “Oh good! At least we’re both flying by the seat of our pants!”
“I was hoping there’d be a boat or a connecting flight or something once I
Seems trustworthy,
got here,” I said.
I felt a tapping on my shoulder. I turned around to find a goofy looking man wearing a brown leather bomber jacket. His eyes were covered by a pair of goggles.
“Did I hear you and your wife say you want to get to Pango-Tango?”
Will BQB and VGRF ever make it to Pango Tango? And do they really want to trust this wacko? More BQB and the meaning of life to come!
Copyright (C) Bookshelf Q. Battler 2015. All Rights Reserved.
Nerds with flowers and wacky pilot images courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.
Bookshelf Battle 