April 5, 2010
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Chapter Two–Out to Home
As Bruce Bunny slept, out to
Bonneville International, just over the Nevada border, Gentile
Sex fiends and Jack-Mormon hypocrites were rising through the pastel morning mist, delighting themselves on Babylonian option Beauty
Bots–versatile, gamey, and 100 per cent self- disinfecting. Such bots
were concealed to all under 21,flashing among a plethora of
family theme vacation options. These were available out of SLCI, the
family friendly airport.Business Tuesday poker nights were
restricted to the locals with notifications sent out by bot
Stateline’s Profit Sharing Social Engineers, and anyone else concerned
in the topic of discussion. The Tuesday Night Poker discussion
table, had long operated by consensus.Bruce had
invested some of his early capital when he was the TA at the High
Schools out to Wendover, Deep Crick and Callao. There were a few of the
Brethren whose poker-faces who’s poker faces could out-do Tuesdays’
best–they’d got ‘em in the service. Uncle Samuel got a young start
playing with his adolescent brothers for high stakes pine nuts and
stopped by for a brief game when he had an interest.SLCI
specialized in unaccompanied kids–the kids, with advance planning,
could get on a plane with their favorite character, in costume. Airport
Snow White led her herd of Dwarves. Costumed humans were shepherded by
Kermit the Frog. These were for the kids whose Moms and Dads lived far
away from one another.Tuesday must have fallen on
Christmas and the group drunk when they snuck in the AI pilots. They didn’t sleep, converse and when Delta brought in it’s curvaceous, deep
cleavaged autopilots Bruce got out of commercial flying and joined the
Federal Air Marshal’s Service under the President’s Office of Homeland
Security.In an emergency, Air Marshalls were to hang back.
When the heros were done with their heroism, the Air Marshall could
fly and land the plane cheered on by a deep cleavaged, photogenic bot
who was as likely to seduce the Heros as Hijackers. They had a
vulnerability, like dragon mail, and the Air Marshals knew where it
was. It was mandatory on all bots who left the factory.Bruce took the mail shuttle so he could get some work done, and he was a
wonder of multitasking. Kerry was annoyed by his Stepfather’s Tuesday
Night fiscal grousing. He told his Stepfather he’d ought to figure
what his trip was and get into it–wasn’t that what the
male-mid-life-crisis was all about? Daddy-o was stuck.Bruce’s trip steeped in naked melencholy, he, now, a belted in,
waterlogged commuter, fussed time where time was lost. If Bruce had been
graced with additional mortal time, he’d have rather spend it all with
Karina. Maybe spend some time with siblings, cousins and old folks
dancing the moon into brilliance.Both he and his Beloved
Karina had sold their Souls as young people, to a promise of Health that
God, let alone Harmony, had no warrant to offer. Green for his rank of
servitude to the aged Church, Daddy Bruce Bunny was fated with default
assignments.Quietly spoken and strictly off the record,
Bruce had Heavy History with both Harmony and Suntan–but could either
reach into his watery grave to retrieve him? How had it come to this.
He was no Winter Driver, and inexpressibly sleepy, he’d missed the
bridge and sailed off the embarkment. Kerry could take over his choose
the
news gig at Stateline for the Sundance group of stations.
But
Karina, how long would he have to wait for her to join
him.
