Entropy and Other Musings by Happy Dagger (red novels TXT) 📖

by the back posse of Krakens. Karl’s crew sped away for the far side of Bolera. Dalio, Jackal 1, sped in the opposite direction; retreating to Caliban’s Wake.

A different voice, crackled from the com-link, “Wally? Are you there –over?" Walter put on his head set.

"Romeo, Hades. Ring Leader – over."

“How you holding up?”

“Four diamonds flying in the sky.”

"Impressive. I'd figure you'd be empty handed, by now."

“Karl had moves. Who knew?"

"Can we bring him home?"

“That would be a negative, Hades. They have flown the coop."

"That is too bad. It is rare to find a gem in the bottom level dregs of the academy," Hades sighed, “Romeo that. All Infectorz accomplished their full dumps. Skirmish 'Burning off the Top Grass' has succeeded in distracting the Boleran forces. Your mission is complete. Congratulations."

“Romeo that, Hades, Just doing my job."

The com-link buzzed - from a different channel.

“One tick, Hades, I’ve got an incom-tran."

“Understood, Romeo."

Walter flipped channels.

Dalio screamed. "Over! What are you doing! Walter? Where are the damn Infectorz? "

"I am on my way, Dalio. Tractor beam in five seconds – out."

A wide magnetic light encapsulated Jackal 1 - drawing it in. Dalio pulled off his pilots mask; gasping in relief.

Walter switched back to the prior channel.

"My apologies for the delay."

The egg timer ticked away the last minute.

"It’s all good, Wally. Bolera will be a plague ridden in a matter of months. Was Jackal 1 salvageable?"

Smiling, Dalio shut down all the ship’s engines; allowing the beam to coast him back to Caliban’s Wake.

The egg timer alarm rang.

Laser cannons, from Caliban’s wake fired into Jackal 1: Glow and burn

.

“Negative, Hades. I'm coming home empty handed - over."

"Romeo that, Ring Leader. Out."


Funny Bunny Organ Farm


"Did you know that the human body can live without a spleen or a stomach?"

"Why, no."

"It's true. Also, you can live with only one lung, one kidney, and 25 percent of your liver, and about 20 percent your intestines."

Peter knew about the one kidney and one lung facts.

"Why, no," Peter leans forward from his chair, feigning great interest in what is being said. He was not lying - completely. Peter was unsure about the liver and intestine percentages.

"Do you believe that?"

"Yes. I can see its plausibility," In Peter's mind, he clipped extra points for bridging a dialogue of positive agreement.

"Also, the human body has a number of unnecessary or non-vital organs, such as tonsils, one's appendix..."

Francine Ruiz - Peter's last interviewer: the current owner of the family company - was distractingly attractive. Big eyes, full lips, soft triangular face, with, close to, no blemishes, and a minimal application of make-up, she blathered on.

"Anyways, here at the Funny Bunny Organ Farm, parts are parts - we focus mostly on kidneys. However, we will soon be branching out to accommodate the demanding market for pancreases. They say diabetes is only running close to fourth place, as the primary cause of death in America. But what they don't tell you. is that diabetes is a heavy contributor to the big top three: Heart disease, cancer, and stroke."

Peter was losing focus; her voice was soothing and melodic. For a job interview, it was becoming easier to ignore that Francine's comments and demeanor were strange, bordering on inappropriate.

Secretly pinching his thumb nail into the fleshy soft finger tip of his middle finger, Peter came back to a proper level of vigilance. Don't look at her chest. Don't look at her chest. They always know when you do this. Don't look at her chest.

"Here at FBOF Xenotransplantation is our industry. "

Peter gave away a subtle look of confusion

" I know. It is are really big word. It means we impregnate animals like pigs and rabbits with animal egg cells that have had foreign DNA added to it.

This causes the creation of the vital organs. Once the process is complete, we harvest the organs from our pseudo-pregnant rabbits and ship them to our needy consumers. I know your position as night watchmen is not related to all of this, but I like to still brief our potential employees of what we are all about. Who knows? The position has led many of our new employees on to more advanced assistant roles.

"That is good to hear."

"Yes, we have steadily grown as a company and prefer to hire from within, in regards to higher positions. Please don't think your night watchmen job as a dead end scenario. We have extensive training programs."

Peter stared directly into Francine's forehead, slightly above her set of eyes; showing the proper attentiveness in what she was saying. He was following all of the rules of body language that he learned from the job networking websites. With $45 dollars standing between him and three weeks before his eviction notice, Peter had to land this job.

"Did you have a chance to check out our company web site?"

Showtime

. " Yes, yes I did. Impressive. I found it, highly, informative. So you supply big cities like L.A. and most of the remaining west coast cities, yes. I was impressed with the wide variety of synthetic and semi-synthetic organs your farm has to offer."

"Absolutely! Our family farm has been going strong for over 30 years. Being the top orchestrator of this industry. I have complete say on the quality and dimensions of our products and…"

Francine broke from Peter's gaze and looked up in the distance at nothing in particular. After a few seconds, she broke from the odd trance and faced Peter, brandishing a professional smile and said nothing. For 20 grueling seconds she kept Peter's rehearsed gaze. Trapped, Peter held his position, refusing to speak first. Not this time

. I will only say what is needed.. I will not fall for these mind games and ramble

. It's a test . You know it's a test.

Francine's left hand began to twitch, flopping like a half dead fish - fighting with a desperate will. Peter held firm. Even when Francine's left hand began to, unbutton the first few snaps of her conservative blouse, Peter bore his vision into her forehead like a surgical laser.

Francine broke the silence, as she used her right hand to control the antics of her left hand.

"Questions? Do you have any further questions about the position we are offering?"

"The position. hmmm,"

Francine's left hand was defying her right hand's attempt to subdue it. The left hand started to flap about wildly.

"Uhh, uhh, yes the... a question..."

Francine's left hand, fraught within a spasm, slapped her across the face.

Breaking proper interview protocol, " Ah, no, no further questions, at this time. I believe most of my inquiries have been answered. Thank you."

"How disappointing, well, I understand." Francine offers her right hand.

Determined, Peter grasps Francine's right hand and briskly shakes it.

"Thank you for considering me for the position."

Francine's left hand insists on slapping at her own face, sometimes making full contact.

"Oh you are most welcome, Peter. My assistant Porsche, will be contacting all interviewers in the next few days. If we do not find a position for you immediately, we will still keep your resume on file for the next three months. Thank you , so much, for coming in, today."

"Thank you Francine, it has been pleasure meeting you."

As Peter reached for the office door, it rushed towards him and clipped him in the head.

"Oh dear, I am so sorry." Porsche, touched Peter's forehead where the door hit him. " I saw your brother Jacob just enter the parking lot. Are you going to be in?"

Francine's panicked hand continued to flail about." No, but thank you for taking the initiative to alert me, Porsche. Consider me not in the office for the rest of the day. I have too much unfinished business to tend to."

Porsche nodded her head in agreement. Realizing that her hands were still on Peter's head and that she was blocking the exit, she dropped them and allowed Peter to pass. They both smiled at each other, politely, as Peter excused himself.

As she closed Francine's door, Porsche asked, "How did it go?"

Looking down at the floor Peter replied, "I believe it went, well."

Porsche smiled, "The slapping hand got to you, didn't it?"

Peter looked up startled and lied, "Slapping? Slapping, yes well I didn't really notice..."

"Save it, I apologize for putting you through further awkward situations. It is unkind of me."

"Yes well thank you, again."

"Thank you, as well, Peter - for coming in"

Before Peter could exit out the front door, "You know, she only does that when she is nervous. I think she may have liked you." Peter turns around. "It's a condition, you know."

"Oh, I see."

" Yes. It is called 'Alien hand syndrome' - a side effect from a past surgery."

Peter nodded.

" Well, you can look up the syndrome on the internet when you get home. Good bye, Peter. Best of luck."

"Goodbye Porsche and thank you."

Peter held his stoic non-committal appearance all the way to the elevator, down to the lobby and three blocks away from the Funny Bunny Organ Farm.

Peter knew he blew it. You are always supposed to have questions to ask about the job you are applying for - it's a given. Francine's beautiful face being assaulted by her own hand, it devastated him. He was lucky to hold his tongue and not say anything at all, but he knew he blew it. He needed it too bad and his nerves got the best of him. Only one chance to make a first impression. Nice work

. Peter, further, berated himself inside his own head, walking to the bus stop. Stepping onto the bus heading downtown, Peter thought, At least Porsche was nice enough to give me some hope - as false and empty as it might be

.


'O'


"Ah yes, the atomic number eight," Meg spoke softly.

The mass of knuckle dragging pupils, grumbled in confusion to her spoken words. They were more interested in finding a stick and emerging it into red ochre or black manganese.

Multiple creases sullied beautiful Meg's forehead. Calmly she continued with her lesson, "And it is represented by the symbol O."

Meg pulled out a stick that she was hiding behind her back. Immediately, she gained the attention of the whole class. They fell silent, looking up at her in awe, staring at the length and thickness of her stick. Feeling uncomfortable with all the attention she was receiving, Meg, hurriedly, drew the symbol O in the dirt. The students rushed around the symbol, admiring the magic she just conjured before their eyes. Slyly, one student tried to pry the stick from her hand.

Meg recoiled her hand and reprimanded, "Stop that! How dare you. You have to earn your right to wield it. That is why we have removed all other sticks from the vicinity." Wounded and sad, the shabby looking student scrambled away from Meg and returned to the refuge of his fellow classmates.

"Now listen up. Oxygen is the third most abundant element in the universe. Because it