Business & Booze

Business & Booze
(Booze & Business)

For The Record, My Contemporary Chronicles are firmly linked to The Influence of Alcohol in My Workplace. And that I admit, readily, Without Remorse. But do Be My Guest, and read My Terrific Tales, for Yourselves. Only then will You See The Proof at how My Newfangled Narratives Materialize, when I am Plastered to The Pavement of My Office from A Bountiful Bout.

Besides, there is nothing wrong in Celebrating over My Sensational Stories, Spectacular Scripts, and Shocking Scoops, in advance. All the more reason to do so when The Accounts are along The Lines of The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, if not to The Likes of Serious, Silly, and even Scandalous Shit.

As such, when The Marbles in My Mind are Motivated by Merry Madness, I indulge in any of My Favorite, Emerald Liquors: The Green Goddess, Kryptonite, or Martian Martini Drinks. I Booze it up, too, when My Inner Insanity is Intrigued, Intellectually, by Superduper Shit. And I Booze it up, like A Champ, as well, when My Thoughts are Tickled by A Tantalizing Tidbit on The Black and Blue Vine (The Grapevine Sucks).

As for The Aftereffect of Three Strong Swills, and I always Guzzle Down Three in Succession, to start with, The Intoxication Increases My Inspiration, as I alluded to at The Start. And, in due time, I will be either Sprawled-out at The Foot of My Chair or Splayed-out Beneath My Desk. On occasion, though, I am kneeling at The Mouth of My Toilet. But I never forget to have A Pen or Pencil, at the ready, there, with The Toilet Tissue, at hand, as Writing Paper.

For Kicks, Laughs, and Amusement, though, I learned how to Brew Green Beer. And My Homemade Concoction requires but simple ingredients. Just add Three Trickles (Drops) of Concentrated, Cactus Syrup and Three Teaspoons of Green-Worm Pulp to every12-Ounce Beer and Bingo. It quenches The Thirst, just like other Beers. Except that it is strictly for The Lion-Heart Lads.

Given, then, to My Scribes Success by means of Illumination from Inebriation, My Writer’s Motto is Business and Booze or Booze and Business. And I never Scribble Serious, Silly, or Scandalous Shit without those Superb Spirits, and then some.

The latter (and then some) refers to The Green Worms I munch out on, while I Write. And there is nothing tastier than those, as The Pulp of a Plump, Green Worm Gushes in My Mouth after biting down on Its Hard Husk or Soft Shell. That, My Deary (Rumplestiltskin in Once Upon A Time), is A Most Satisfying Sensation, if ever one, though The Squeamish Souls will Shiver.

What is more, I continue to relish The Soft, Pasty Pulp, all the more, when It Spreads onto My Tongue and Teeth, just like Melting Chocolate. And that is but another Satisfying Sensation, if ever another.

My last enjoyment is seeing how The Appearance of My Green Teeth and Tongue match The Hue of My Green Skin--attributed to The Green Liquids. But standing and walking to The Restroom to view that, is never an easy thing to do, when I am Totally Toasted. When possible, though, I get to see My Entire Image, as The Gleeful (Jolly) Green Guy. I like that. I really like that.

From another standpoint, though, I would be viewed as The Jolly (Gleeful) Green Gnat. And that would be an accurate description of Me, if I stood next to The Jolly Green Giant. The Skyscraper-Stud stands at 55 feet and 5 inches tall, and I am but A Mere 5 feet 5 inches. How is that for A Comparison between Giant and Gnat!?

Still and all, there is The Bright Side of being The Gleeful Green Guy or Gnat. True Enough, considering that I am A Reasonably Big Hit, here, and A Bigger Hit to A Miraculous Multitude I never expected to have. The Latter was passed on to Me by An Unexpected Client who visited Me Three Months ago on a Day of Days: Halloween Day.

Then again, The Bright Side, of that Day, was not free of A Dark Side. The Ugly and The Bad came into play, at first, and I pictured My End well before The End of The Day. Only that The Good materialized, after a long stretch, to Save The Day. And I had to thank The Galactic Gods, though Grudgingly, for Their Good Graces.

After All, The Galactic Gods saw to it that I would see No Gain Without (thorough) Pain, throughout The Invasion of The Dark Side on Halloween Day. And I suffered, greatly, until The Invasion became An Incredible Interview.

Given, then, to The Prolonged Pain that I Endured that Day, I Cursed at The Galactic Gods, Good, for leaving Me High and Dry. And it was only right that I Dogged Those Goofing Off, Goofball Gods, then, inasmuch as I truly felt like A Sheep about to be Shaved, Skinned, Slaughtered, and Stewed--or even Sizzled, if not Sautéed.

As It Happened that Day, then, I answered A Knock at My Office Door, just as I was about to step out for Lunch. And, at The Doorway, I saw what I took to be A Kid, from The Nearby Housing Community, all decked out in A Green Getup for Halloween Day. The costume could have passed off as that of any Tiny Creature on this planet.

But that was not so. That was as far as it went, right after I pulled out A Greenback from My wallet to hand over. And, as soon as I did that, The Presumed Kid, looking like A Green Gerbil, then, drew its Silly Sidearm and Zapped Me, good. I was Stunned, left Solid as A Statue and Silent as A Shadow. But, above all, I was Scared Shitless, as I believed, afterward, that I was getting mugged by A Green Goblin-Gangster, then.

To top it off, A Second Zap ensued, instantly, and I Perceived that I was floating and returning to My Office. The Gruesome, Green Gremlin, as I deemed it, at that point, was on a Shooting Spree with Me as A Human Bull’s-Eye. And I declared, right away, that The Once-believed, Silly Sidearm was rightly a Sinister Side-Shooter or A Dual-Purpose Gun of A Different Vintage.

Suffice it to say that My Kidney’s were more alarmed than I after that last Zap. They were overpowered with Utter Urine (Total Terror) and about to release A Flash Flood of Green Wee-Wee. And I visualized My Dam bursting in Three Ticks.

But that was not so. That was as far as it went, seeing that I only Leaked Three, Tiny Trickles. And, for that, I had to reluctantly thank The Green Gopher, as I judged it, then, for its Soothing Say: That it was not here for Lunch, as I thought of how I Munched Green Worms to hold Me over until Lunchtime.

Given, then, to A Rolaids Relief of sorts by that Comforting Crap, The Green Groundhog, as I believed it to be, then, eased Me down on My Custom Chair. But, no sooner than that, I got Zapped A Third Time, and I Feared that I was lied to about not being Lunch. If not that, what remained was My Role, as A Practice Puppet for Pistol Proficiency.

It goes without saying that I Visualized My Premature Passing at The Hands of The Wretched Weapon, held by what I determined to be A Green Gunslinger, then. And I expected, any second, to experience A Delayed Reaction from The Evil Equalizer Setting on The Tri-Purpose Gun.

But that was not so. That was as far as it went, considering I was not injured, any further. In Lieu, My Mobility was returned, and I was reluctantly grateful, again, until I noticed The Loss of My Vocal Cords. They were inoperable, and I was unable to yell like a girl (Mulan 1) for help. So, I fell into Downright Despair, once again.

Then, as I Sat Stiff, in Piddle (Pee) Panic, The Green Grasshopper, so believed, afterward, leaped with The Grace of its kind onto The Edge of My Desk. It was but three feet away from Me, and It proceeded to Goggle Me, intently. So intently, too, that The Effect caused Me to believe that all of My Clothing had vanished. As a result, I Imagined Myself in My Skin Suit (Birth Skin) with 33 years of wear and tear tacked on to it.

Embarrassing did not even come close to what I Felt, seeing My Bare Body exposed to The Cold Climate in My Workplace. I even felt that My Curly Hair had straightened out and stood at attention with all of The Others. But, after A Third Thought, I believed that The Hair-Raising Effect was rightly caused by The Green Gogglers of The Green Geico, what It seemed to be, then. I even took It to be An Evil, Emerald Entity, too, as It scrutinized Me, fully, and made Me Believe I was A Lamb-chop for Lunch. And that was but one of The Many Moments, when I Cursed The Galactic Gods, Real Good.

As expected, My Wee-Wee Worries intensified, along with My Grumbling Stomach. But My Eyes were set on The Green Gnome, or whatever Green Genus It was, to see what It had in mind. And I learned quickly what that was, as It removed Its Mask and Coat and stood there triumphantly over Yours Truly-- Its Prized Prey or Piggy for Porkchops.

However, I thanked My Good Graces, with no credit to The Galactic Gods, that I was not exposed to A Striptease Skit. What with The Trickle Terror I was already suffering, A Skin Scene was not A Cure for My Crisis, then. Definitely not, as I saw A Green Girly, in plain view. But I had to admit, nonetheless, that She was An Attractive Adult, for Her Size. She was Hot--Red Hot, but actually A Green Hot.

In fact, I ranked The Green Gal, as A Bo Derek 10, despite Her Size, best described as pint-size. Even The Three, Green Shades about Her, one distinct on Her Eyes, Hair, and Skin failed to detract from Her Appeal. But I had to avert Her Emerald Eyes, often, as I Found them to be Mesmerizing and Manifesting Messages of Feminine Fraternization (Intimacy). That I surely believed, as She Goggled Me into My Skin Suit (Birth Suit), often.

Before long, though too long for Me, She Introduced Herself as Ms. Glena. But what followed, already combined with Her Green Guise, as A Girl, was more than I could handle. Positively so, as I was Totally Terrorized, when She Identified Herself, as The Emissary from The Red Planet of Mars.

Well, once that was said, I wondered if I had stepped into A Twilight Zone Episode. If not that, I wondered if I was hallucinating from A Bad Batch of Green Worms, laced with LSD, or Acid, or a Dementia Drug of sorts. And not being Skunked, then, I wondered if I was suffering Delirium Tremens for failing to Drink that Day.

But that was not so. That was as far as it went, right after Glena continued with This Revelation: That Her Government was offering to pay Me 333 pounds of Emeralds for The Story They wanted Me to write and The Role They wanted Me to play. And that caused Me to gasp, with A Desire for Three Stiff Swills of Martian Martinis, which I never took, until The End of The Day.

Instead, I Jumped at The Dream of owning those Green Gemstones. And I did that, easily, by accepting that My Unbelievable Experience, then, was Real. Damn right, I did, as I Desired, preferably, to believe I was not on The Menu for Lunch, to start with, and I would Live. But, best of all, I would be Loaded, not Drunk, and have The Top of The Line Liquors and The Finest Green Worms I Desire in My Curative Cabinet, aka Booze Bin. I liked that. I most certainly did, with The Thought of My Teeth and Tongue extra Green and Gummy-Yummy.

Afterward, I decided to shrug off most of The Dark Side of that Day. Only right to do so with The Bright Side in plain view. And I thanked The Galactic Gods, then, but very Grudgingly, though. I could not do so entirely, seeing that I suffered too much, by that time and for My Own Sake.

As for Gorgeous Glena, She did not overlook The Contentment on My Countenance. How could She, since She had her Glittering Gogglers locked in on Me and surely witnessed My Expression of Glee, if not Greed. And Her Reaction, to that effect, was to break out into Her Own Smile of Contentment. Except that Her Sensuous Smile unnerved Me, as I wondered what kind of Contentment was crossing Her Mischievous Mind. But I knew all along, though.

Oh, yeah, Glena apologized for The Zaps that She Hit Me with, at the start, although she considered those necessary. Her Reasoning, which was viable, had to do with Her Belief that I would get hysterical after She Identified Herself as A Martian Maiden. And She figured, along those lines, that I would surely yell like a girl for help.

But know this about Me: I only yell like a girl if it is absolutely necessary. And I only do so whenever I hallucinate and see Green Elephants, not Pink, and see Green Mice, not Gray, and see Actual Aliens in Green. She was right to Stun My Chickenshit Can (Buttock), then.

Continuing with Her Zealous Zapper, She went on to say, as well, how She kept Her Finger away from The Atom Annihilator Setting on Her Peacemaker Pistol. I, in turn, scuffed at The Name She gave it. It was absurd, in My Opinion, considering that A Soul would be Atomized into The Air, so Absolutely. Worse, though, someone might inhale those residual Particles, containing Poop and Pee, and that is not healthy.

What more I got from Her, over The Last Matter, was Her Explanation for such A Setting. And She said that Martian Mediators, on Peaceful Missions to other Planets in The Past, were Assailed by Alien Assassins who cared not for Peace. So, I understood, fully, then. But I refused to accept The Name of Her Grizzly Gun. Better to call it The Evil Eraser, or Eradicator, or Eliminator, or Extinguisher, or Evaporator, or other.

Her Last Say, regarding The Use of Her Purposeful Pistol, was to point out Her Considerate Charity toward Me. That being, that She saved Me the walk, but a short one, to My Custom Chair, where She placed Me Comfortably. So, I gave Her a “C” for Cunning and Crappy Charity, as I Carved The “A” grade for The Scary Shit and Piddle (Pee) Problems She Put Me through. I refused to cut Her some slack, on this count, just as I negated The Galactic Gods on several occasions.

Unexpectedly, then, A Hair-Raising Moment occurred, when Glena reached out and grabbed My Right hand. It was A Tender Touch, with A Sensuous Sensation to it, and I Trembled, Terribly. So much so that I got hot under the collar, but not The Kind out of anger, or resentment, or embarrassment. And I realized, soon, that She was wearing Me down, with Her Role as Beauty and I as The Beast (Rumplestiltskin in Once Upon A Time).

Knowing The Score, then, with Me on The Losing Side, I objected. And it was Out of Principal that I objected, since I am not Easy in An Initial Interview or on A First Date. But I was too slow to object, as She rapidly said The Following: That The Martian Multitude Adores Me. That The Martian Maidens found Me Irresistible in My Photo, as The Gleeful Green Guy. And The Martian Men identify with Me, as The Emerald Entity who enjoys Martian Martinis with A Green Olive or Green Worm in it.

She went on to say, as well, that The Green Gang, back home, liked My Fondness for The Color Green. And that is certain, considering The Greenbacks I Enjoy Earning. The Green Beverages rank high, too, for The Inspiration they provide. But The Green Worms are up there for their Nutritional Value and High Protein. They bring about The Growth of Hair on My Chest, which The Gals like.

What followed, next, though, got Me Highly Upset in one respect. That is, that The Martian Misers enjoyed My Wonderful Works without paying A Single Greenback for them. They simply hacked those from My Shelves, and I intended to hand them A Piece of My Mind for that Sneaky Shit.

However, I put My Money, Moaning Matter--My Green Gripe--on hold, after A Third Thought. I also put The Allegory of Glena as Beauty and I as The Beast, in check. Frankly, it was more important, then, to reflect on The Terrific Tributes and Fanbase that were Out of This World, pun intended. Can You beat that? No, I doubt if You ever can, especially The Green Gold--The Green Gems, as I saw them. And that I Truly Liked, best of all.

When it came down to business, after getting Buttered Up, good, by Glena, She informed Me that The Martian Monarchy had finally elected to divulge Their Presence to Us. They are even willing to share their Advanced Technology. And They Chose Me, of all people, To Be The One who would make that public. Although They are counting on Me, first, to be agreeable with Their Resolution and Recompense.

Over that, My Simple Reply, to Glena, was this: If The Martian Magnets know how to Count The Exact Number of Green Gems it takes to make 333 pounds, I am in. Heck, that can buy My Agreement to just about anything, since I am easy pickings--A Sucker for Green, if not A Glutton for Green.

On the other hand, I considered taking The Job for A Fraction and Royalties. That I did, after another Third Thought. Easy enough, too, considering The Prominence I would achieve from introducing The Martians, Real Martian Martinis, and possibly Real Green Worms, Real Green Cheese, including Real Martian Marijuana.

Above all, though, I would be Hounded with Honey-Money by The Talk Shows, Institutions, and Advertisers, on both Planets. All would crave for My Presence, Participation, and Poppycock-Poop (Bullshit). Although equally thrilling was The Vision of The Worlds, like The Friendly Bar of Cheers, where everybody knows your name. I liked that, too, with The Exception of everyone learning about My Treacherous, Triple-dealing Shit. I am way beyond The Status of Double-Dealing Doo-Doo.

As a matter of fact, I decided to drop My Green Gripe after I conjured up that Dream of Dignity (Fame, Fortune, and Frolic). Why not, seeing as The Bountiful Benefits of My Alien Association with Mars-kind would make up for My Losses. Besides, I believed it would be The Neighborly Thing to Do in allowing The Green Groupies those Freebies.

Just so You know, I mentioned My Last Thoughts to Glena. In turn, she said that The Martian Monarchy would insist, nonetheless, on paying that amount out of gratitude and admiration. And that meant that They Love Me, dearly, as The Gleeful Green Guy and Stoned Scribe. I liked that and started to envision The Aforementioned Items I would, surely, buy from The Martian Manufacturers.

With that said, Glena began to wrap up Her People’s Proposal. And I gotta tell You I was Stunned Solid and Silent by it. No need to get Zapped, then, since The Shock was enough to do that. Greater, still, The Shock Wave sent Me Flying on Cloud Nine to Seventh Heaven. I liked that.

Anyway, She said that I, of all people, would be The Moderator at The Meeting Site for The Delegates of each Planet. She also informed Me that The Martian Monarchy selected, of all places, The Devil’s Tower, as The Projected Place for The Powwow and Peace Pipe Protocol, of old. And I could not believe, even more, that The Martians wanted to commence The Meeting by Smoking Martian Marijuana. Can You beat that? Not Me. But I liked The Idea, knowing I would take, at least, 3 hefty puffs, and try to Pilfer 3 Pounds of it, if I can get away with that.

As for The Selection of Devil’s Tower, The Martians Loved Close Encounters of The Third Kind, and want to play that skit. I liked that with Richard Dreyfuss as The Red Guy. But I would be The Green Guy, if I choose to get zonked on that Day of Days.

Soon after, Glena said that I should begin The Document that would inform The Earthly Governments about The Existence of The Martian Multitude. And She added that I would be issued, as A Testament of Their Subsistence, A Teleporting Device. I would have The Capability of transporting anywhere I Imagined, mentally. The Green Gadget would even have Shielding Capabilities to protect Me from harm’s way. I was Humbly Honored, by that, and I promised that I would not use it to sneak into The Movie Theaters for Freebies.

Alas, then, Glena stared Me down, anew, with Her Exotic Eyes. And that unnerved Me more than before. More so because She looked too resolute, for My Comfort, and was not to be denied Her Say.

Boldly, then, She asked if I was married. My Reply was A Nervy No. She followed that up by asking if I preferred relationships with Girls or Guys. My Response was A Tense Girls. She concluded her questionnaire, if not Her Interstellar Interrogation, by asking if I had A Girlfriend. My Rejoinder was An Edgy No, though I should have said yes, in hindsight.

Well, seeing as I could not retract that last answer, I scolded Myself, severely, for being A Jittery Joe. But I defended Myself, even so, on account of Glena’s Gun--Her Horrid Handgun (better yet). It simply intimidated The Truth Out of Me, when I glanced at it, then. Worse, though, I experienced another Urine Urgency with Three, Tiny Trickles, to boot. And I noticed, then, that My Shorts were getting drenched from too many Tiny Trickles.

As for the line of questioning, I just knew where that Intimate Interrogation was going, then. Clear enough to gather, too, as Glena’s Gleaming, Green Gogglers projected hearts, wedding bells, honeymoon, baby shower, and pamper duty. And, no sooner after The Last Trickle, of The Three, escaped, I was truly Against The Wall. That was when She rushed up, to My Embarrassed, Red Face, and asked if I wanted Her as A Green Girlfriend. I nearly keeled over, after Her Point-blank Proposal, but I had to think up something to say over that, though.

Yep, I nearly keeled over at The Thought of having Three, Half-Green Kids, if not The Identical Color of their Mom. True enough, since I never visualized Myself as A Dad. But The Quirkier Visions were how My Projected Kids would ask Me to change My Hue with Three Martian Martini, so I would turn Green and join Them in The Martian Mambo Line Dance. And that I Liked since I can Strut My Stuff on that, as The Mambo Man.

Now, do not get Me Wrong. I am not against Interracial or Interstellar Marriages. I am definitely not. My only concern is The Welfare of The Offsprings, in the event that they get ill and require A Transfusion or Transplant. If so, A Perfect Donor may not exist in The Family to save A Child. I would Die within if I experienced anything like that with A Child of Mine.

So, I informed Glena, as diplomatically as possible, that We should get to know each other and The Ramifications of such A Union by staying in touch, first. That was The Best I could do, then, though all that I said was Valid. And, after My Say, I closed My Petrified Peepers to avoid Her Anticipated Anger and Aggression, as I thought, after that excuse and action, that I should have Legged It to The Latrine for Dear Life and Limb(s). But My Legs were Lame out of Fear, anyway.

In Fear, then, I Waited.

In Fear, too, I Leaked Three, Tiny Trickles.

In Fear, alas, I saw My Fame, Fortune, and Frolic Fading Away, so Fleetingly.

And Absolute Anguish engulfed Me.

Except that Fear Faded, in A Flash, as She Replaced That with A Stellar Smack on My Kisser. No mistake as to that, though You should know it was not The Straightforward Smack that leaves The Fingermarks of An Assailant on The Face. In lieu, it was Her Validated Version of A Juicy, French Kiss (Stellar Smack) on My Kisser.

I say no more.

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Alcides, The Fly-On-The-Wall Writer