Friday, 25 August 2006

Night Flight Mike, Part Four


Night Flight Mike is a novella of twenty short chapters, posted over twenty business days -- by me, your tireless host, Cheeseburger Brown. Readers who may be subject to access surveillance or content filtering please be advised that this work of fiction contains profanity and describes adult situations, but is relatively free of political subversion.

This text has been certified virus-free by Norton.

And now, today's chapter:



4/20

Twenty minutes later Mike was on reconnaissance. He told his parents he would request from the front desk an additional reading lamp to do his schoolwork by, which he did upon reaching the lobby. Afterward, however, he parked himself in front of a wall-sized map of the hotel's innards and set to studying the layout.

A white woman in a fancy suit with a hotel crest on the lapel wandered over and asked Mike if was lost. "No," he said. She went away.

The Fairbrook Hotel housed many facilities including a sauna, a swimming pool, a sports bar, a karaoke bar, a business centre, a fitness centre, a luncheon cafeteria with both kosher and halal dishes, a teleconferencing room and a gift shop. Try as he might, Mike could find no listing for anything resembling a nightclub.

He looked around to find the lady with the crest on her lapel but she'd vanished. Instead he caught the eye of tired-looking black woman flopped out on one of the lobby's leather couches with her long, scabby legs sprawled out carelessly before her. "Hi," she said.

"Can you help me?"

She shrugged, chewing a lump of gum rhythmically. "You looking for a good time, honeypie?"

"Yes," said Mike, stepping closer. She smelled like rubbing alcohol, and when she crossed her legs he caught a bewildering whiff of tunafish. Mike pointed at the map. "I'm trying to find the nightclub."

"What nightclub?"

"Any nightclub. I thought there would be one in the hotel."

The woman stretched her bruised arms and cracked her thick knuckles. Her face was heavily painted, smeared around the lips. "You want to go dancing or something, baby?"

"Yes."

"What's your name, sugar?"

"Mike," said Mike.

"I'm Sapphire."

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Coriander's is down the block," she said, gesturing vaguely. "They got pretty girls in there, maybe you'll find yourself a girlfriend, Mike."

Mike blushed, and then two security guards with muttering walkie-talkies came and escorted Sapphire out of the lobby. Mike guessed that she must be an important person in order to warrant a security entourage. He waved and she waved back.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

Tunafish...HAAAAA...my EXwife resembled that remark!!

-THE Danimal

Simon said...

A burning desire to hit his first night club, combined with an obvious naïveté. A storytelling recipe fair fraught with potential.

The familial racial differences are still passing strange.

Cheeseburger Brown said...

Dear Simon,

Details with regard to the childrens' racial diversity should become clearer presently. Next chapter, if memory serves.

And yes, phantasmagoric stimuli experienced by the naive is a pet device of mine, it can't be denied (q.v. Simon of Space).

Dear Anonymous,

Careful not to disrespect the cooch, sir. Nor tuna, which is a fine meal. Actually, they're both fine meals.

Love,
Cheeseburger Brown

Anonymous said...

CBB,

Disrespect aimed at the exwife; not at the cooch. Never at the cooch. Too many wars strarted that way.

THE Danimal

Moksha Gren said...

Howdy Mr. Brown,
Just wanted to weigh in on the posting schedule...I'm a fan. If splitting up your stories into single serving snack packs serves the dual purpose of creating realistic goals for yourself and also keeps us whiny content moochers from griping...it's a double win. Keep up the good work.
See ya Monday