George, and Rock: Galactic Adventures!

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
One man, George Robert Smith, an inter-galactic agent of the "Authority" turns rouge, stealing with his long-board, his weapon, and companion in one: Rock. Together, they venture through time, and eventually space, to expose the "Authority" and kill their enemy in the first series, Director Adams. Join them, on the sidelines, like a true companion to an Executive on this Journey!

Submitted: December 13, 2011

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Submitted: December 13, 2011

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George, and Rock, on:

Galactic Adventures!

Series I: Issue I

 

So it Begins…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Written by: Clayton Smith Goetz

 

Status Revoked...

George Smith, the hero of our tale, sat at a desk with numerous legal documents, and mission reports lying upon it. Across from George, Director Adams sat smugly in his throne of an office chair. The dress code for the Authority was a strict one, black two piece suits, and tie, both men were in that attire, both men alone in the dark room, lest for their rocks. The meaning for this meeting was the pending expulsion George was facing, the tension was palpable, and neither man enjoyed the other’s company, to say the least. Adams’ office was full of bland, boring memorabilia from his 300 previous years of duty for the Authority, before being awarded with the position of Director of the board of the Authority, Adams had slain beasts never before seen by human eyes, and yet for a man who led a life most dangerous, and adventurous, he was an unbearable dick.

“So, George, I understand you’ve been running into some… unforeseen issues, on your last, let me see here, ah five objectives,” Adams glanced slightly from George’s file to the man he was just reading about, only to adjust his glasses with his middle finger, a subtle fuck you, but a fuck you none the less.

“Well, yes, but who could have predicted the presence of hostile organic life on a planet whose temperature is less than that of Pluto’s?” George replied, picking his nose with his middle finger, a much less subtle fuck you.

Adams, was clearly irritated, it seems as though George’s British accent was enough to anger the brash old man. “Well, George, due to your lack of preparedness these past few months, the board has decided to put you on a probationary status, for now, luckily, I, am the Director of the Board and my word is final. Full expulsion as an Authority Executive, you have no more rights as an Authority member, and your former Executive status has been revoked, it’s been a pleasure working with you these past years, but you are now more of a risk than ever.”

George couldn’t bear to hear it, he knew this day would come, eventually, but not yet, he was unprepared, again. He stood up from his seat in the dark office tore off his tie and prepared to be forcibly removed.

“Adams, I have been waiting for this day for a very long time,” he was now removing his suit coat, “but once again, I am unprepared, so I’ll just have to wing it.” Adams was moving his hand slowly for his rock; George saw this knocked it out of reach. “Adams, I’m not going to kill you, but before you throw me out of here just listen, you are undoubtedly the most influential and powerful man in the known Galaxy, and yet you are the most unbearable, miserable, boring, modest, passive aggressive, asshole ever known; just how the fuck is that?”

Adams sat comfortably in his chair, listening contently, letting George have his moment, then: “It simply, is,” at that moment five Executives rushed in and escorted George out. George fought with all his might, throwing two Executives across the room before he was knocked out by one of their rock’s blast. They pulled George through the halls of the Authority office, past his old cubicle, past the mail room where he slaved away for five years, and into the basement to the transport system. He was placed in a pod and sent back to Mars, where he kept his home in the favelas.

A mere three hours later, now on Mars, George sat in a dusty old cantina, nursing a whiskey and Coke. Directly next to him was a stack of three or four empty Marlboro soft packs, and an ashtray overflowing with smoked cigarettes, most of them George’s.  He was wearing fading jeans, a vintage yellow t that read “Medic” in green, his dark blue G.Y.P.D. hat, a dark blue cotton sports jacket with leather elbow pads, and his glasses.

As the hours passed and the drink poured, George’s head eventually cleared, he started thinking, thinking about all the expelled Executives he never heard from again. Of his best friend Rock, and of his old companion Randy, the man who saved his life on more occasions than George cared to remember. Many times had George’s life been on the line, and every time Randy pulled him out of the fire, George needed him now more than ever.

As he reminisced, another thought popped into George’s head, he would most likely die in the next few hours, at first he had accepted it, but the closer George came to his final hour the more resolution he had to survive, survive and take revenge upon Adams. The thought of putting an end to a life that had lasted more than five centuries seemed quite the enticing endeavor, he poured the whiskey and coke on the bar floor with new determination to survive, at least long enough to kill Adams.

 

Escape!

George had reached the conclusion that he would be killed soon if he did not leave the bar, at the moment he moved to leave George spotted three tall men in plain black suits heading his way. He knew they were Executives, most likely men he had worked with in his 100 years of service, Rock had been confiscated, so he resorted to a… messier form of weaponry, George stood up and fired three shots into the ceiling, everything and everyone in the bar stopped, even the three Executives were taken aback. While time stood still George sprinted at the Executives jumping and tackling all three screaming in a Link-esque manner: “Hyyaaahhh!”

It was an unorthodox tactic, but it worked, quite well actually the three young Executives were stunned, not knowing what to do with the man they were sent to kill flying at them screaming and smashing them into and through the bar door. George came running out of the bar, stumbling over splintered pieces of door and door frame, the Executives were hot on his tail, but George was fast, leaping over trash bins, and throwing loose shelves into the Executive’s path. They fired their rocks at him, one nearly catching George in the shoulder, but none coming close enough to put him down.

Rounding a corner George jumped into a trash bin, and slammed the lid shut, he heard the Executives race past, unaware of his presence. After five or more minutes passed George climbed out of the bin stinking like a homeless man, not entirely a new smell to him, but still quite unpleasant.

George made his way back to the small home he kept in the Martian favelas, sneaking around in back alleys and through people’s open doors and out the front. When he reached his pink doored home he checked all the windows and back door, just to be sure there were no surprises waiting for him. He entered the small house with an air of suspicion, then grabbed his backpack and filled it with some clothes, and a few packs of smokes.

George stood at the edge of his doorstep hesitant, about to lock his pink door for the last time, when headed back inside. George searched around the small home not entirely sure of what he was looking for, after four or five minutes he found it, his old longboard, sufficient enough form of transportation for now, and his 5 year old glass spoon pipe, a definite necessity.

George touched the walls of his tiny old home, as he reminisced his years of life there, he started to leave, tired of waiting, and itching to get it over with. As he made his way to the door he closed the windows, and turned out the bare, bright bulb, finally arriving at the door he hesitated, worried of what the next few weeks would bring. He walked outside and closed the door, showing some form of emotion for the first time in decades; a tear rolled down George’s cheek as he locked the door.

Wiping his eyes he turned to face the world, but the only thing he kept in sight was the Executive watching him from a nearby alley.

 

Old Rocks, old Partners…

George chased the Executive down the alley; they ran for more than a mile through the winding alleyways, and at times through and on top of houses. The chase came to a screeching halt when the fleeing Executive ran into a dead end, George ordered the Executive to turn around, when the blonde man did George lost it.

“Randy, you son of a bitch, how’d you find me?” George ran up hugging his old partner.

“You’re not a hard man to lose track of George,” Randy said smiling.

“That I’m not Randy old’ boy, that I’m not,” George was ecstatic; there was a chance Randy would join in his mission to expose the Authority, and end Adams, what a wonderful fuck you to Adams that would be, besides being dead and all.

“Now George I can’t talk for long if I can find you so easily they can too, but I have a surprise,” Randy said rummaging through his pack. “Here, thought you’d like the old boy back.”

“What is it Rand?” George asked taking the heavy object wrapped in a cloth.

“It’s me you bloke,” Rock said incinerating the cloth wrapped around him, and taking his rightful place with George.

“Rock! You little bastard how’d you get away?” George questioned gripping his best friend once more, something he thought he would never do again.

“Wasn’t that hard, you know them Executive types, all fat, lazy, and only out for themselves,” Rock said bouncing about, “oh and Randy helped a little.”

“Randy I can’t thank you enough,” George said sincerely.

“Don’t mention it, that’s not all though,” Randy reached back in his pack and pulled out a mason jar which contained an entire ounce of  great ganga green, the dankest dank that ever danked, the stickiest of ickies, better known as marijuana.

“Ra-, Ra-, Randy, I, I just, came… so much,” George exclaimed taking the jar gingerly in hand.

“Have fun boys,” Randy said nodding and half-saluting George, then sprinted off the way they had just came.

`“I will Rand, I will,” George said unscrewing the top of the jar and taking a smell, savoring every second. George packed a bowl and asked Rock, “Are you partaking?”

“Hell yeah,” Rock said in a high pitch.

While George lit up the bowl Rock pulled George’s longboard out, they stepped on and Rock began to glow a bright blue, almost white, as this happened the longboard and all passengers began levitating, and as George let the smoke loose from his lungs, they disappeared from sight leaving only a small cloud of smoke.

They began to phase back into existence on earth, only a few levels down from the Authority’s hidden headquarters. As they faded into a solid image George stood hitting the near-cashed bowl, he offered it to Rock who respectfully declined.

 

Attack!

George snuck around a corner, keeping an eye out for Executives, as he reached the lift he pocketed Rock, and stepped inside. George pressed the up button, and prepared himself by stretching out his long, lean arms and legs, when Rock said, from inside of George’s pocket, “Hey George?”

“Yeah, Rock?” George said stretching his hamstrings.

“Yeah, uh, why don’t you just, uh, FUCK OFF, with the stretching, okay thanks!”

George chuckled but saw through Rock’s attempts to keep their minds off of the dangerous situation they were bound to face when the doors opened. Prepared for anything the lift doors opened revealing the backs of six Executives, George, high as a kite did not see them immediately, taking a step before looking up at the six backs, upon seeing the large men’s backs he turned on his heel and walked back in the lift.

“Well,” George said then gasped panicking and out of breath while pressing the down button, going one floor lower than the Executives.

The lift opened once more this time to an empty level, and an open ventilation shaft further down the hall. The many levels of earth were all complex, even so there were abandoned levels, abandoned so either because of the recession or firefights, this one seemed to be reserved for the sick and dying.

George reached the open shaft, lit a cigarette, and adjusted his backpack, Rock came out of his pocket as well to smoke for a minute, not a bad idea but when he did exit George grabbed him and hopped in the shaft. His cigarette still in his mouth George maneuvered so he was sitting on top of Rock, quite awkwardly, well awkward looking in any case.

“Up!” George cried out in a heroic manner.

“George, my good friend you can fuck right off!” Rock replied somewhat muffled by George’s body, but up they went none the less.

George looked up and saw light just a few feet up, he climbed completely on top of Rock and hopped up to the open vent. Struggling for a moment George screeched like a young girl, then realized Rock was immediately beneath him, still holding him up.

“Oh, well,” George stumbled over his words.

“Pussy,” Rock called out beneath him.

George climbed out of the vent and put out his cigarette, as he turned to his right to head into the Authority headquarters he was stopped dead in his tracks by his ex-lover Alice.

“Hi George, don’t talk, listen, it’s funny that we were the ones who had sex together for oh I don’t two years on and off,” George nodded shamefully, “and yet who do I get a call from informing me of your ‘death’? Randy, by the way you look good for a dead man,” she said it all without taking a breath, now don’t be confused, Randy didn’t just call Alice recently saying George was dead, in fact it happened nearly four months ago( I did say ex-lover) he had simply done a magnificent job avoiding her.

“Alice, I was in a deep undercover operation, you must understand I a-, was with them,” George said nodding in the direction of the Authority building.

“If you’re lying to me George Robert Smith I swear to-,” George cut her off by kissing her, a useful tactic he learned years ago.

“Two seconds,” he said winking.

George hid in another alley nearby to change into his old Executive suit, the disguise working he walked right through the front door. George searched and searched the one floor maze-like building searching for Adams or the room. As he rounded a corner he found the latter, he opened the door and nearly collapsed in ecstasy, he had found the room, the room that the Authority kept all of the confiscated marijuana in the Galaxy.

George was on a mission though, he wanted more of the strain that Randy had given him, but the jar was just labeled Mango. George walked up and down each row inspecting every brick like plastic bag of green material thoroughly; he spent what seemed like an hour in the room until he came across one brick labeled Mango, S 76%, 30Kg. his jaw dropped and his palate moistened, it was the one. He grabbed the heavy brick and put it in his near empty backpack, excited for his next opportunity to smoke now, and very satisfied with his short stay at the building he resolved to leave peacefully.

Before doing so though, he set off in the same room to look for a better smoking utensil than his 5 year old spoon pipe “Ray”. After fumbling through boxes of onies and small pipes he was close to giving up, nothing seemed right, nothing seemed like a very good match for he and Rock, on his way out he happened upon an 11 inch triple blown masterpiece of a zong, it’s bulb was a vibrant green, untarnished by resin, the slide was matching in color but faded to a dimmer yellow at the top of the bowl, the neck was yellow to the first curve, then red, then green from the second curve up to the mouth, it was truly a beautiful piece of art really, and it was shame to leave her there, so George grabbed it, satisfied.

His energy returned, George went searching for water and found a bottle with just enough in it. Admiring the new addition to his collection George packed the bowl and took a seat with Rock and initiated the smoke down.

Sitting Indian style across from Rock, George took a massive rip, holding it for nearly thirty seconds, when he released the smoke out of his lungs the large room was almost instantly hazy. The cloud of smoke blew right past Rock, who pretended to be breathing in the air.

“Holy fuck,” George said letting loose a rapid fire set of coughs.

“Pass that shit,” Rock said hovering towards the bowl, his telepathic tentacles reaching out could be seen in the haze.

“Be easy Broseph Stalin,” George said handing Rock the lighter and zong.

Rock proceeded to cash the entire bowl in one hit, and continued to hold it for a minute later; George stood up now very high and went to the door while sliding on his Tardis back pack containing the large brick. Rock arrived at the door a second later after pouring out the now filthy zong water, and handed it to George, who held onto it with the utmost care.

Prepared to go, George opened the door; waiting behind it was something he was not so much prepared for: twelve heavy Executives stood with rocks drawn and charged.

“Fuck,” George had just enough time to say it before the shots were fired, all of which Rock blocked. After the Executives’ rocks were out of charge George tightened his grip on the zong and started swinging. He caught one in the temple knocking him out; George spun around hit another this time with a fist. George put the zong in his bag and grabbed Rock who charged like it was his mother-fucking job (which well it was) and fired ten times, each round hitting a different Executive.

Looking around at the temporarily paralyzed men George felt alive again, for the first time since his rookie Executive years; he walked up to one of the paralyzed Executives and whispered, “Tell Adams, his status… has been revoked,” and kicked him in the stomach.

 

Out of the Frying pan… And Amazingly Away from the Fire

George and Rock ran out of the headquarters, out of breath and still high, after they were about fifty or so feet away George turned around to check for any ensuing Executives, they were clear. George moved to get on his longboard when an explosion went off from inside of the headquarters.

“Did we do that?” Rock asked looking away from the explosion to George.

“Naw, you know Adams, he hears bad news and just… blows up,” George said looking slyly at Rock.

“Aw. I see what you did there,” Rock said activating the now hovering longboard.

Ten minutes later they returned to Alice, who was still waiting by the open vent, scooting along on the longboard smoking out of the zong once again.

“Two seconds eh?” said Alice.

“Maybe more,” George said walking up to her now, offering her a rip, which she accepted.

“So do you guys need a place to stay tonight?” Alice asked coughing slightly.

“Yeah actually, could we crash at your place, and in payment George will have sex with you?” Rock said somewhat joking.

“Fair trade,” Alice said winking at George, who was taken aback by her agreement with the plan.

“Score!” George said jumping up.

 

Fin.

 


© Copyright 2017 Clayton Smith Goetz. All rights reserved.

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