Scake
   |
Posted - 2007.07.29 19:19:00 -
[1]
Edited by: Scake on 29/07/2007 19:23:00
'Squeeze Juice Mon.' said the man coolly. He was wearing a fur coat, yellow peaked visor and snow boots at least three sizes too big.
'Same please. Squeeze Juice!' squeaked the little man hovering at his side. 'WhatÆs in Squeeze Juice?' whispered the little man.
'Donæt know. Secret recipe. But whatever it is, they squeeze it.'
'Right. And the accent? Why the accent Duke?'
'Accent?' said Duke arching an eyebrow.
'Yeah Mon.' said the little man imitating.
Duke paid the barman. 'Thanks Mon.' he said, then to the little man he said 'ItÆs his name Quinn.'
'Oh. Right.' said Quinn, picking up his glass and raising it to his face to hide a blush. Duke moved over to a table and sat down heavily. Quinn followed hopping on tip-toes over odd stains and unconscious punters on the floor.
The Prayer was often described to off-station pilots as an exotic bar. Which was an accurate description of the entertainment but little else, including the drinks, which was QuinnÆs next challenge. He poked at the debris coating the edge of the glass before taking a gulp, wincing as he did. He coughed and spluttered.
'Good stuff huh!' Laughed Duke banging his fist on the table. To Quinn it felt like the whole bar shook. He forced a smile trying to chew his way through what felt and tasted like a mouthful of glass.
'Quinn you know why I brought you here.' said Duke.
'To catch some dreadful disease, be mugged, battered over the head or poisoned and then finally killed and stuffed out of an airlock, just to make the afternoon of one of these scary looking tattooed men that little bit more exciting?' Quinn thought very, very quietly. After a pause he said aloud 'Well, no actually.'
'Im letting you go.' said Duke unmoving.
'Where?' said Quinn.
Duke shrugged 'You can go wherever you like.
Quinn looked puzzled 'But IÆve got work.' he said.
Duke sighed 'Not anymore you donÆt Quinn. Im firing you.'
The look of puzzlement on QuinnÆs face turned to anguish. To any normal man itÆd be like looking into the face of a dieing kitten. To Duke it was just business.
'YouÆll get severance pay of course, minus that drink, and a Shuttle-bus voucher good for two systems.' said Duke smiling like he was doing Quinn a favour.
'Butà' started Quinn. He knew it was no use. Duke was a calculated, ruthless, moral void of a man, which was why he was an excellent businessman. And whenever he made a decision that was that. Quinn slumped face down, squashing his nose and forehead against the sticky table.
'Im making cut backs Quinn. In some cases literally. You heard about Limp-Left Harry I assume. Now he doesnÆt have a limp, or any legs. I did him a favour of sorts. Limp-Less Harry now!' Duke chuckled and looked dreamily past Quinn for a moment, giving himself a mental pat on the back, 'YouÆve been an employee for a long time though Quinn. Which is why IÆm giving you four hours to get off the station and out of the system.' Duke shuffled his weight off the chair, gave Quinn a hollow pat on the back and departed.
Quinn sat in The Prayer lifeless and face-down for a long time. Well fifteen minutes told his old-design Casio watch, but that was a long time if you only had four hours to live. Quinn got up and walked out of the bar.
'ItÆll be an adventure.' said a voice in the most back-part of his head that cropped up from time to time. HeÆd named it the Stupid Stupid voice, on account of it not seeming to know about rent, angry landlords, expensive commodity items, general despair or a lack of faith in life. Or maybe it just didnÆt care. To the tune of that voice he marched towards his apartment, dread and fear slowly filling him up like an empty bottle from head to toe.
|