milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Naraht comes down the stairs on his crawler. He slides off of it after parking it in an out-of-the-way place and heads over to the bar for a light dinner. The majority of his hangover symptoms have passed, but he's still feeling a bit listless.

Not to mention he's hoping like hell he didn't make a complete fool of himself since his memories after going into the cave with the pillar are rather fuzzy.

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A large monkey hops on top of Naraht, chattering to itself.

He looks like a rock, what?

Naraht doesn't quite jump. Only because he doesn't have the energy to, however.

"Ummm...hello?" he asks cautiously. The voice generated by his voder is still a little staticy.

"Hello!" Monkey used to be a rock, himself. "Are you a cosmic egg?"

Now that's a question Naraht doesn't get every day.

"Noooo," he says. "I'm a Horta."

Monkey ponders this. "Would you like to be a Buddhist?"

The first question was off the wall.

The second one was of the freaking cliff!

And Naraht, already muzzy-headed, responds in the only way he can...

...he starts giggling. Small plumes of clean-smelling steam escape from his vents as a chortle emerges from his voder.

Monkey sulks. "It is my job to convert spirits, and if they will not convert, assure at least they will not harm my master."

"I'm...I'm sorry," Naraht says. "It's just..."

He disolves into another fit of giggles (that particular corner of the room is getting rather steamy now). After a moment, he manages to get it under control.

"I am sorry, sir. No offense intended. I've just had a very long couple of days and...well..." He stifles a snicker. "I'm afraid I'm not interested in converting. My current values system works quite fine. But I'm not interested in harming anyone unless they intend to harm me or my friends."

"Good enough!" Monkey says cheerfully.

"I'm glad," Naraht says. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lt. Dahai Iohor Naraht, of the Federation starship Enterprise." He thinks a moment. "Now that I think of it, I believe one of my deckmates is a Buddist."

"I am Monkey, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven."

...

That is the sound of a Horta's mind being blown.

"I believe Lt. Shima has mentioned you on occasion..." he says quietly. He's looking to see if the Great Sage is still wearing his crown.

He is. The Bar wouldn't be standing if he weren't.

Monkey grins. He likes being famous.

"So...have you been here long, Great Sage?" Naraht asks. He is also looking around for the Monkey's charge, Tripitake. According to the legend, he should be around here somewhere...but then Milliway's has neat ways around supposedly unbreakable rules.

"I come and go, by astral travel," Monkey says with a wave of his hand. "I have visited from time to time for a year now."

"Ahhh," Naraht says. "I'm a relative newcomer, myself. And I fear I must use the Door like other mundane beings."

"Hey, Naraht! How's the noggin?"

If Naraht had a head, he would be fighting the urge to headdesk right now.

"Better. I take it you heard."

"Yeah, Ray told me. At least you guys all made it back in one piece."

He then joked, "But save the getting blotto for the celebration after you kicked the gooper's ass next time."

At this point, if it were possible, Naraht would no longer be fighting the urge. He would be trying to pound his cranium into a fine paste.

"It's not like I had much of a choice," he mutters. "I just hope to the First Mother that I didn't make too large a fool of myself."

Peter shrugged, "Ray didn't really say anything about it, so I guess not." If he was there, he would so say something about it. But that's the difference between them.

Naraht manages a weak chuckle. "Well, I suppose if one has to 'take one for the team' there are worse ways to go about it."

"Well, hey, you had a good time, so everything's fine."

"I suppose a massive hangover is a small price to pay for saving a city," Naraht says. "Though, I may have to go back and snag some of that stuff. I have no wish to ingest it again, but it would be a big hit with my siblings."

"So, how have things been going with you? I take it Oscar has gone back home...did you have a chance to check out the holos of Commander Peck?"

Peter then facepalmed, "Sorry, Naraht, can't believe I forgot about them. Things been nutty around here with the landshark showing up."

...

"The what?!"

"Landshark. There's a notice up about him. Some stupid con, too. Rang a door bell at the front door, and tries to get people to open the door so he can eat them."

Peter added as an afterthough, "Oh, and its name is Chevy."

Mental facepalm.

"Please tell me that a majority of the patrons here were too smart to fall for it."

"I think some were, but a couple did get eaten, I heard. I don't know what happened to them."

Peter added, "There's this quote my old man loves to say. PT Barnum said it originally. 'There's a sucker born every minute.'"

"A friend of mine told me that there used to be a series of books on Earth called the "Darwin Awards". Someone ought to call their publisher if they still exist."

"Oh, what were they about?" Peter's from 1991, as in the dark early days of the Internet was still mostly at government facilities. And the WWW had yet to take off.

Naraht snickers. "Apparently, they were awarded to people who did the human race a favor by removing themselves from the gene pool by their own stupidity. Generally awarded posthumously, of course, but there were a few awarded to living people if they managed to damage their reproductive organs enough."

Peter laughed at that, "Oh if there's books for it, I gotta ask the bar for a copy. That sounds great."

"My friend loaned me a couple of the books. It was simply amazing how moronic people can be. One in particular...A man was tasked with the job of flushing out a gasoline tank. This required him to fill it to a certain level with water in order to force the flammable vapor out of the top. He went to check on it but couldn't see how high the water was because of the darkness...so he pulled out his lighter..."

Peter laughed and shook his head, "Big man with little brain makes big boom, right?"

"And little brain gets spattered all over the place," Naraht finishes. "Incredible."

Peter nodded, "Of course. Sheesh, some people."

"You should ask Bar for a copy, but I warn you, it's bound to raise your cynicism levels to redline. Speaking of Bar, I really should be getting something to eat. Even if I don't particularly feel like it, I need something more than the pumice I ate last night."

He waves at Peter. "I'll see you later."

Peter snorted, "My cynicism's past that already."

He nodded, "Alright, take it easy then."

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