BFD, RUM #4, On the docks

Luckily, there was an extra tire it helped them get back on the road  

“Narrators interpret the past as a story,” explained Tim "Stories are composed of images made up by the Authors."  

Greg leaned in from the backseat “You are a Narrator, right?”

Tim corrected “I’m retired, I’m sort of here to act as a Narrator under cover, so I can steer the story in the right direction.”  

“You two, are from…” Greg looked to Martin and Snigiliput "What, some alternate dimension?"

“No-thats crazy, when people hear stuff like this they think of something like those Sex-craft stories.”  

“Lovecraft, dude,” Snigiliput corrected “Sex-craft is a low budget porno.”  

“Ohhh, remind me to get the tape,” Greg said with a peculiar drunken salute.

“I’m surprised you’re taking this all so well,” said Martin “Usually people freak out.”

“Well, actually there not supposed to know,” Tim reminded.

“Why’s that?” asked Greg

“I don't know, our continuity is so warped...” Tim hesitated “It happens so many times but remains against the rules.”

“That’s where the Editors come in,” said Snigiliput.

“Editors?”

“Those bastards,” hissed Tim, his attention suddenly on the rear view mirror.  

“They’re the ugliest mother-chuckers, too,” Martin remarked, some flashing lights  

“Those coppers, dude?” Snigiliput looked behind him but didn’t see anything. Mist gathered around them

“I mean-I’m pretty easy when it comes to conquests, but I’d never-fff-UUUUUCCKK!” Martin screamed, an Editor’s sat beside him.

“Dude…” Snigiliput awed, a rust colored hovercraft floated above them, with the bluish mist flowing all around them. Editors, half solid,

were on both sides appearing like ghosts. Leather gloves martyrized and attempted to grab Martin.  Suddenly, Snigiliput thrusted

his long leg from the back and it smashed into its mask, its head dissolving. Tim put the pedal to the metal, and the car zoomed away

from the looming phantoms. The Editors seemed to shrink in the distance “Think we lost them?” Snigiliput asked dumbly. Greg winced

“Don’t say that…” he complained. He turned to Greg “Why?”    

“Because now were jinxed, and when that happens the bad guys appear in front of us…” Tim hit the brakes when the hovercraft stood

blocking there way. “Oh shit!” he cursed. The door on its side slid open and a gleaming silver rifle was aimed in their direction.

Tim drew his device “What is that?” Greg starred at it

“Sipricator, standard for all Narrators!” Tim answered before he smashed his thumb on the big red button, numbers zoomed from left and

right on the small rectangular screen and suddenly they were going up. The road was building itself into the sky.

“WOW-That is so cool!” Greg marveled. Tim spotted the craft hanging in the mirror “Don’t get much time to appreciate it now,” he said,

“Yah, they’re the ones who correct things that don’t belong, namely these two,” Tim “They were supposed to escort characters out of

stories, but instead they’re prone to deleting what they don’t like.”

“And that’s what your trying to do,” said Greg “Tim my boy,” He patted his shoulder “I’d never expect this out of you.”

A half hour later they were approaching the docks “What are we doing here?” Greg asked confused

“This is where your body is found…” Tim said simply, looking at a flashing bulb on his indicator.

“You can tell that from that small little calculator,” said Greg peering at it.

“I don’t really know," said Tim with his shoulders raised "I just kind guess around these sorts of things…”

“Ah,” Greg nodded and they exited the car and the group followed Tim, looking at the instrument as he walked blindly along the planks.

Then they stopped and found a large blue house “Hey, this is where I live!” Tim looked up surprised.

“Yah, and there seems to be a party on your boat.” Martin, directed there attention to the large Yacht. They boarded and inspected the

area and everyone was dancing on deck.

“What is that, jungle music,” Greg made a face of disgust.  

"Its electric Charleston," said Tim knowledgeably "Its illegal in nine states."

“You just keep getting more and more interesting,” Martin winked.

“Don’t look at me like that,” and diverted his eyes to the device

“Can we just,” Greg spoke out, a bit uncomfortable “Get my body back…”

“Yah, this is a privet Residence, man!” Snigiliput said in outrage, he looked to the crowed of boys and gals and tried to get their attention

“Hey, dancing people-quite jigging!”

“Get off my boat!” Tim shouted and Martin seeing that this wasn’t working decided to run and turn over a table.

“Martin," Greg folded his arms "What good did that do?"  

“I don’t know, I thought it would get someone’s attention…”

“That wasn’t cool, man,” Snigiliput said disappointed “You sent the punch over board.”

“I just think there too drunk,” Greg remarked of the people, not paying the littlest bit of attention.

“Yah, what’s your evidence of that?” Snigiliput waved his hands in a guy's face.  

“Well, there’s him,” Tim pointed to a man who had his tie on his head. He threw a party table over as well and howled like a wild-dog.

“That guy’s pretty bad ass,” Greg commented. Tim spotted Martin dancing alongside a girl. and pulled him away.

“If you can’t beat them, join them,” he replied simply

“That makes sense,” said Snigiliput.

“You’re going too?” Tim said hopelessly

“No dude, I’m going to look for Greg’s body, he’s probably the main man behind this CGG,” Snigiliput replied

“Huh,” Greg asked. Snigiliput sighed, as though it was obvious

“Ya’know, celebratory group gathering?”

“Oh, pretty catchy,” said Greg

“Alright, Good idea,” Tim relented “Give us a signal when you’ve found-it or whatever,”

“Don’t worry,” he said sincerely “I’d never leave a man behind,” and then he walked into the crowed.

***
Tim and Greg walked together, strange looks from the dancers. The guy with the tie on his head walked up with a drink in his hand

“Dude, nice outfit,” he said, putting out a muscled arm, Tim shook it, he looked down at Greg “My names Butch’, how you liking the party.”

“Party’s awesome!” said Greg aloud.

“Is that an Ant-Eater!” he said in surprise “That is so cool.”

Tim scowled at him “Yah, the only problem is, it’s on my boat!”  Butch nearly tipped over but Tim caught him

“Whuh?” he asked dumbly

“Listen, you can get drunk but please be respectful,” Tim said seriously, and he showed him his plastic badge “I’m a sheriff!” Butch’s eyes

widened, shaking in his boots “And this is my drug sniffing-dog!” he tapped Greg “Dog, sniff out some drugs.”

The ant-eater guided his nose from person to person, and stopped at the cocaine table “Sure thing, boss.”

Butch loss control and flayed his arms about “THE COPS FOUND US!”  he shouted to everyone “GET-OOOUUUUUTTT!!!” Everyone

began to scream and run down the plank in a panic, some jumping overboard. Martin watched the chaos unfold and in the moment he

turned around-SPLASH- a wave of water hit him, his gal had dived over the rail. Greg was lost in a box of white powder “Huh?” his head

rose up, his entire muzzle covered in the stuff “Waz’ going on…” he was delirious and a little dizzy. “The boat clear?”

“I believe so,” Tim answered. Martin  looked up “Wait, what’s that sound?”

Soon it occurred to everyone “Sounds like someone’s having trouble with the steering…” Tim carefully lead them up the stairs and

standing there in front of them was a man cussing as he throttled the levers and wheels.  

“Hey, that’s my body!” Greg recognized him instantly. The man turned and stared back.

“Dude, that’s like-a paradox,” Snigiliput pointed in astonishment

Tim drew his pistol “Hands up!”  Whoever it was taking hold of Greg’s body quickly reached for the sky

“Hey man, I don’t want any trouble.” His voice was not fitting, as if badly dubbed by someone else. “You can’t; you’ll hurt your buddy.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Tim smirking, cracking open the gun “These aren’t ordinary bullets.” –BLAM-It passed through the stranger like

vapor, Greg’s body fell down lifeless while an apparition appeared behind where he stood. It was a hollow shell of a man and it had a

round head with features that his mother would shun. Greg walked closer to it “Wow, what are you?”

“He’s a Helper,” Tim answered “Or a fallen Narrator like me. Probably forced into retirement by the High Lords…”

“And why’s he running around in my body?” Greg asked, still looking at the ghost.

“I was trying to escape!” he replied “Things are too hot here, man, the Ed’s fallowed me here and I got to mosey to another story."

"It's guy's like you that ruin stories for the rest of us."

"Shouldn't talk, Snig."

"Can I go, the more time I spend talking to you snooks, the less time I got!" he tried to grab the wheel but only phased through it.

“So it’s you the Ed's were looking for?” said Martin “I nearly got erased, you gutless ghost-thing!”

“Ya’know, I really feel sorry for yah” said the Fallen Narrator with half attention “But tough shit, I gotta go…”  

“Well, we got bigger fish to fry,” Tim said coldly, A small nozzle flipped out of the Sipricator, the hollow thing was pulled inside.

“First off, I got to get Greg out of this anteater-” he stopped to consider his sentence before manning the steering wheel.

"That’s a bummer, man” said Snigiliput lowly “I kind'o like him when he was that way."

“It is pretty sweet,” Greg admitted “I got these claws and everything and I’m all fury. It’s a darn shame really.”

“Not to mention, you’re so cute,” Martin added “I could’ve given you a happy home in my penthouse.”

“I hope you weren’t planning to stick me in the back yard,” said Greg,

“Alright Greg, stand still,” said Tim aiming his gun at him.-BLAM-Greg’s spirit wiggled out like a worm out of an apple and then phased

through and settled in his body, slumped on the floor. He awoke, regaining feeling in his fingers and toes.

“Good to be back” He sighed “Probably wouldn’t be able to impress too many girls if I was still like that.”

“I know a few that would,” Martin added with a mischievous grin.

“Yah, like those squids babes we hooked up with,” said Snigiliput.
“The babes you left me for,” Greg remarked with a smile “That’s how I ended up like this, remember?”

“Sorry dude, how very unbrotherly o’me.” apologized and then pointed a finger at his friend “He made me do it...”

“Oh, please” Martin rolled his eyes. “I believe it was you who said we should flag them down.”

“Uh, are you questioning my recollecting little dude?” Snigiliput got into his face

“I am suspecting that your recollecting is lacking…”

“In what does my recollect lack,” Snigiliput responded

“What you lack, my friend” Martin smiled “Is fact.”

“That is what I recollect, and the way I recollect may not be perfect. But, what you recollect is false, I bet” And then folded his arms, finally.

Greg looked to them both and chuckled. “You speak as though you’re the cat in the hat,” said Martin.

“You say that 'cause, I got you sacked,” Snigiliput replied.  

“Whoever done the deed,” said Greg finally “Do not grieve, for I’ve no fire in need to feed,”

“Could we please, regain our speed,” Tim exhaled.

“If thou’ so plead,” Martin bowed to him, and he just rolled his at him. They approached the rip, a stretched line in the dark clouds. Colors

seeped through it and glinted, like sun light through water drops.

“There she blows,” said Tim and then guided the boat directly under it. “Now, how do we get in?”