ValSFA and the Secret of Pirate's Cove
by
John Welsh
We were all hanging at the ValSFA Clubhouse enjoying the mushrooms Duce had procured with some of the profits from Keith’s latest Pornographic SF tome, Alien Tongues and Cosmic Lips, washing the nasty stuff down with Annie Greensprings Strawberry Nectar spiked with Ever Clear. The mood was light.
Duce , Sparrow and Keith were wrestling with the mysteries of the I Ching. Poindexter busied himself with the latest edition of the Gum Vapor Clarion while DK and Fin relaxed with a calming game of liars poker. I observed through an Ever Clear fog. The wall paper was just starting to act up...
"OH, WOW!"’
Brought everyone to the there and then. Was June busting out all over? No!
Poindexter had discovered the following In the Clarion. Prof. Bentley Barnacle, who sat on the ValSFA Biochemical Research Chair at Pugsley U., had discovered a rumor that there existed a Secret Grotto at Pirate’s Cove that could be home to Capt. Pelez’s pirate ship overflowing with ill gotten gains. Pelez had been known to sail the local sea’s plundering SF conventions, making life miserable for all but the few people who could stand his presence. It just waiting there for an Ambitious group of Plucky Adventurers to plunder it. As there were none about, it was left to ValSFA, over some objections.
"So material," said Duce. "What need have we of ill gotten plunder when we have the here and now of our mystic selves."
"I could use some of that plunder. DK has been beating me at poker and I am broke. He cheats," declared Fin.
"Plunder’s cool," I offered.
"I do not cheat", said DK.
"Cheating’s not cool," I said.
"What does the Ching say?" asked Sparrow.
"The Ching’s says we should find some chicks," announced Keith.
"OH, WOW!"
"You find too may chicks who don’t belong to you"!
"What are you on about?" demanded Keith.
"Chick’s are cool," I said.
"Far fucking out!" shouted DK.
"How would you know? Sparrow asked suspiciously.
"I read it in a magazine," I explained
"OH, WOW!"
"What about the plunder?" asked Fin.
"What about the plunder?" mimicked Keith in a whinny voice.
"What need we of plunder?" Duce asked again.
"Lets plunder some chicks," declared Keith.
"Far fucking out!"
"What magazine?" Sparrow wanted to know.
"The Wall Street Journal," I said, "in an article titled Rich Fuck’s Get More Sucks."
"Plunder it is!" said Keith.
I would like to report that a consensus was formed as we decamped in search of plunder, alas this was not the case. Bickering went on by the usual parties, shots fired back and forth until we lost sight of the original argument. A fresh supply of Ever Clear Mushroom marinate returned matters to focus.
As we marched out of the clubhouse in search of the plunder I had the distinct feeling each of us had focused on a different aspect of a common goal, that while we were banded together in our quest, the end of the adventure might reveal the differences in each of our visions of fulfillment, thereby setting each one of us apart.
But, a
different time bomb was ticking. Poindexter had failed to read the most
important part of the story: the entrance to the secret grotto was guarded by a
bottomless pit!
We in ValSFA were bold ones of our generation, the risk takers, the cutting edge of change. We salted our food before we tasted it, we ran while holding sharp objects, and drank cup after cup of coffee at bedtime.
Plunder! We dashed out of the club house and piled in Fin's VW Micro Bus, a gift from the grateful citizens of East Monkey's Breath, his home town. After a series of three motorcycle accidents, the last occurred while the mayors comely daughter was seated behind Mad Motorcycle Master Fin, the town Vigilance Committee offered the Finster a deal: either accept a slow but steady Micro Bus as his mode of transport, or face a bucket of hot tar and a sack of chicken feathers. Fin took the Bus, removed the motor, and dropped in a hot Porsche engine. He was through with motorcycles, anyway. East Monkey's Breath saved him several grand and made him the ValSFA taxi service. Who'd a thunk it?
After Fin outran two cop cars, the conversation turned to the possibility of violence while procuring the plunder.
"I think stealth is our best course of action," said Sparrow.
" We could will ourselves to invisibility and spirit the plunder away,"
Duce offered, but seemed none too sure himself.
"I say we kill the bastards and take it," DK said. DK was more prone to violence than usual. He was unhappy since his plan for induction of new member into ValSFA was voted down 4 to 3, civil war was narrowly avoided (but that's another story). DK's plan was decades ahead of it's time. In order to become a full voting member of ValSFA, a potential ValSFA had to kill a member of LasFAS, method optional. DK had been raised in the nightmare city of Las Vegas during the Mafia administration and eagerly embraced it's methods and brotherhood. Duce, Keith, Sparrow and Poindexter were against for reasons of liability, Fin was heard to mutter he already deserved three votes. I allowed I could use the target practice, but in reality I was too scared of DK to cross him.
"Killing's cool," I said.
"Very bad karma," proclaimed Keith.
"Karma, slarma," said DK.
Fin suddenly swerved the bus and we felt a thud.
"Four points," said Fin.
"OH, WOW!"
"Fin just swerved to run over a dog," announced Duce.
"Very bad karma!" said Keith.
"Dogacide," said Poindexter.
"Not cool," I said.
"Oh, dear!" was Keith's final word.
"Ah, well, I agree with Poindexter," was all Sparrow could come up with.
Fin suddenly grinned his trademark shit eating grin. "Anyone don't like it can get out and walk."
We all found something to look it out the window.
"Who'd a thunk it?"
"Dogacide's cool" I said, speaking for the group.
"That makes me hungry," said DK. "Will need sustenance if we are going to take plunder from Pirate Pelez."
"Chili Charlie's?" I offered.
"Far fucking out!"
"Puke," said Keith.
"I have a delicate tummy," announced Fin.
"I don't consume the flesh of my fellow creatures," Duce told us.
"Denny's will have something pleasing to all out palettes," Sparrow pointed out.
"Fin's in." And Fin driving.
Plunder would have to wait until we ate. The adventure was still before us, a dead dog behind.