A Slackers Guide To Immortality - Chapter 7

The sun was hanging down pretty low in the sky and Young Three was thinking about how slow the trip out here was with that baggage she had to tote. So she started to sweet talk the Tinker.

“Any chance of us snagging a couple bicycles for our trip back to my tent Jimbo?”

“I can do you one better than that. Want to get on the Scrapper Sickle?” The Tinker was smiling like a kid at Christmas. He spit another small creek of tobacco juice past his missing front teeth.

“You got that contraption working again? I thought it blew a head seal last week. But really you would trust me with your wheels?”

“Of course I would. I can’t let the little flower of our sect run her feet ragged. Next time you are out in the big world bring me back a copy of Juggs Magazine a fella gets awful lonesome playing around in the scrap heap…or better yet if you get deep enough in the whiskey to roll around with this old junk skunk pop on by anytime.”

“You know I like my boys frail. You are way too sturdy for me Tinker. Besides Petunia would spray us both, remember the last time she thought I was going in for a kiss it took weeks for the smell to finally fade. Just bring that sweet bike around. I can’t wait to rev it up at the gate. It’d really piss off Elder.”

“I’ll bring it around now.”

He was skipping all the way back to the Junk Hall.

“Why run when you can ride? I approve Young Three.” Joe said with satisfaction.

“Don’t thank me just yet. The only thing holding The Shit Cycle together is rust and duct tape. You have to see this thing to believe it.”

Whirring sound continued for about 30 seconds from the Junk Hall followed by the sound of crashing metal then a backfiring sound and a deep sputtering. Then the distinct sound of a diesel engine.

When the vehicle came into view the first thing Joe saw was the front tire exiting from the open doorway of the Junk Hall. It was a front tractor wheel. The front forks were welded from steel pipe that had a few holes drilled into it apparently scavenged from some other projects. There was a single seat that was occupied by the Tinker. On the handle bars was a boxing ring bell and an industrial LED light fixture that would be used for lighting up a stadium. On the rear was the back end off of a small pickup. But the piece de resistance was the humongous set of nuts hanging so low underneath the trailer hitch that it was scraping the ground.

The Tinker cut off the engine and dismounted from the bike tossing Three the keys with a fluid motion.

“Yeah I made her from just bits n bobs laying around. Her engine came out of Chevvy the back end and tranny from a Yoder the forks I fabbed in house from some old oil field pipe the tires off an old Kewbotter. I’ll try to whip up another couple of farm trucks when I get a chance. Until then just know this is the only means of transport for at least a few hundred miles. So take it easy be gentle don’t take her into 5th gear she’s starting to slip.”

“No problem Jimbo we won’t put push this dirty girl too hard tonight. When are you going to be by to pick her up?”

“Next day or so unless you feel like drinking some of this Pine Sap Whiskey I been running through these old radiators and getting frisky. Put it on me good enough I might just let you keep the whip.”

The thought of them two bumping uglies made Joe dry heave just a little bit.

Joe was already moving towards the back of the bike…well technically a trike because it had three wheels but whatever. There was a couple of yellow jerry cans and a metal jobox in the back curiosity got the better of him so he opened it up. Tools and pȯrn what a surprise he thought to himself. There was also a pretty sweet looking machete with an ivory handle.

“Close the lid you idjit. Nothing in there for the likes of you; didn’t your mama ever teach you not to go plundering.” Jimbo yelled at Joe when he noticed him looking in the jobox.

Young Three hopped on the bike cranked it up and took off from the Junk Hall.

They were making really good time comparatively to the walk out there.

Young Three stopped the bike and turned back to speak to Joe.

“You might want to get up her to grab my waist we are going to hit some pretty gnarly bumps on the way to my tent. We can easily shave off about 40 minutes if we go cross country. Shocks weren’t high on Jimbo’s list when he built this thing apparently.”

Joe took her advice and climbed on behind her.

“That’s right little man put your hands right there on my hɨps. If you feel like going any higher or lower it’s going to cost you a $20 “Young Three said with sultry vibrato in her voice.

“I always get what I want little man. You better get with the program fast.”

She continued across the field until they reached a gate in the wall. There was no pause before she drove right through the gate.

They kept riding until the moon had started to rise in the sky. They had passed nothing but grass and a few trees as far as Joe could tell.

Eventually they stopped by a pond that sparkled underneath starlit sky.

Young Three turned the light bar toward a big tree under the canopy of the tree was a tent just as she described. It was large easily capable of sleeping 8 men or more.

“I’ll be back in a minute or two lover boy I just need to light some lamps and pick up my pȧntɨės off the floor. Throw my rubber dɨċks into a box that sort of thing.”

Joe waited patiently on the bike for a short time until he saw Young Three walk out with a lantern. He then turned off the bike’s light and engine passing Three the key.

“I bet you are pretty hungry. Other than some soup we dribbled into your mouth while you were passed out the last solid thing you had in your stomach were some of those pickled sausages. I still have a few those want to eat them tonight. I might be able to scrounge up some quail eggs. We could cut up some of the potatoes make some hash browns in a little lard. Only on one condition though you have to strip down to put on your dress and hat if you want to eat this is your welcome feast to the sect so it’s a formal occasion.”

As hungry as Joe was he figured he better humor her if he wanted dinner.

As he followed her towards the text he heard grunts coming from the woods many many grunts. Next he heard reee reee in the distance and some onks onks. ‘Really I’m going to hearing fuċkɨnġ pigs all night when I’m trying to sleep’ he thought to himself. Wait she called them demonic pigs when I met her back at my apartment. She has also mentioned them being capable of eating me. I wonder what’s going to happen to my stuff or if my friends and family have filed a missing person’s report yet? Thoughts were rushing through his head so fast he could bȧrėly keep up with them.

Young Three opened up the flap on the olive green tent. It smelled like a locker room inside there was a no shit actual wooden floor inside. The walls were still tent walls but there were kitten posters and a smiley face poster taped on the walls. There was small split log table with two steel folding chairs by it. A small vase with wildflowers in it sat atop the table. It was surprisingly feminine inside. However that illusion was broken immediately when Joe looked at the opposite side. Over there was some prison weights. Coffee cans with concrete poured into them with a piece of broomstick stuck in the middle between them, some kettle balls, a few lengths of rope and some chains.

“Yeah just some old toys that I don’t have the heart to get rid of… By the way remember what Jimbo said about plundering. I’m going outside to make dinner while you get changed. Don’t worry im not going to peek…much. I’ll be far to busy chopping up potatoes and frying up some eggs. Just set your bag down anywhere you’d like as long as it’s out of the entry way.”

She grabbed three potatoes from a burlap sack underneath the table. Shewalked back outside. Joe wasted no time changing into that ridiculous pink robe that was in his garbage bag and he slipped on the sock hat. He grabbed the dubious piece of construction paper out of the bag. She sat down in one of the chairs to read the Sutra while dinner was cooking. It read: Pain is weakness leaving the body. The only way to piss excellence is to piss blood first. Thirst is temptation that distracts the mind from power. A distracted mind cannot conquer the body. (Repeat 100 times a day or more as necessary until you stop being a pussƴ.) Xoxo Tinker Jimbo.

Joe figured it wouldn’t hurt to try. “Pain is weakness leaving the body. The only way to piss excellence is to piss blood first. Thirst is temptation distracting the mind. A distracted mind cannot conquer the body.” he started it as a whisper that gradually grew louder after a few times of chanting. He was on his 20th or 25th cycle of the chant when Young Three entered the tent with dinner.

She was beaming. “You actually read the chant. I’m so proud of you… You are such a dipshit you should see your face did you actually believe that was a cultivation manuscript. Our sect is so damn broke that the Elder lives in a plywood shack you really do you think we’d be living like this if we could get any real strength?”

“How can you call yourselves a sect if you don’t have some level of strength? I thought that sects were supposed to be filled with superhumans capable of splitting mountains, crafting wondrous objects that defy logic, men of great knowledge, and heaven defying beauties.”

She put the huge cast iron frying pan on the table. It was a classic breakfast mix up. The potatoes smelled so good. There were tiny clumps of yellow scrambled eggs. Those God awful pickled sausages were sliced thin. Rosemary and other fresh herbs were added in for more flavors.

“The Elder is pretty strong but age is starting to catch up with him. He used to be able to pull trains at the railyard before he retired to farm Tinker Jimbo can make anything out of scrap. That bike pretty much defies logic. He was once a loose cultivator capable of splitting a man from the crown of his head to the split in his legs with his falchion. Scholar White Tides is the smartest man in the sect he completed a 2 year correspondence course in agricultural management at a nationally ranked community college! He is highly skilled in accounting and calligraphy too. He might be the closest thing our sect has to an inscriber. Also you have had the pŀėȧsurė of spending so much quality time with the top ranked beauty in the sect. She even cooked you a sumptuous dinner to welcome you on your first night at the sect. She is even willing to share her home and possibly her bed with you for the foreseeable future. Your elder martial brothers will die of envy. Now eat up before it gets cold. Wait I forgot to get you the forks and could I possibly forget the beer. I need to go back out to the pond to grab them. Forks are on a hanging caddy behind the tent flap. Grab those while I head back outside.” Then she left the tent once more.

Joe got up to get the fork from behind the door flap. There were two army style mess kits hanging in a cloth bag from a post supporting a wall. He brought both of them to the table then plated the food from the pan into the pot metal mess plates. Young Three walked back into the tent with two 40 oz bottles of a beer brand he couldn’t recognize from the label on them. There was a crudely drawn snake with no writing. She had a rolled up camp mattress under her arm.

“I leave it hanging from a tree branch every morning to let it air out. I washed it about 4 days ago quite frankly I’m surprised that it was still there. I can’t leave any of my clothes hanging outside. These perverts around her have a habit of stealing pȧntɨės. You would think that after I knocked out a few teeth word would get around but it seems to encourage them more.”

She unfurled the mattress on the floor. After she sat down on the empty chair she popped open the bottles with the bottle opener on the end of her Spork.

“Guest of honor has to drink first. I made this batch last fall out of some wild rice that grows by the pond. I call it cobra spit. Strong as a mule going down tastes like a dead bat coming back up. I advise you dig in I’m pretty hungry.”

Joe tasted the beer after a bite of the potatoes. He agreed with the ȧssessment it was pretty stout. The meal passed in silence.

“Just leave the plates on the table I’ll do the dishes in the morning. Come on to bed we have an early start in the morning.” Young Three took off her windbreaker, and then hung it on the back of her chair. She had on a white wifebeater under her jacket. Joe could see her nɨppŀės poking through her undershirt. Her brėȧsts looked so much smaller under the jacket he was thinking to himself. Her shoulders were broader than he liked. They were pretty big without being bulbous; along the lines of a track and field athlete. Her biceps were like a linebacker’s veins were visible on her forearms which were connected to hands like a wide receiver’s.’ God those hands man my ċȯċk would look like Vienna sausage in them hands’ Joe couldn’t help but thinking.

She kicked off her shoes and shucked her pants off quickly. Those too were left hanging over the back of the chair. Her well-muscled thɨġhs were pretty hairy for a chick but they had no extra fat on them. She turned around then bent over slowly to move her shoes allowing Joe ample time to watch her blue boy shorts to ride up her buŧŧȯċks slightly. After seeing the front and the back without the pants in the way Joe had no doubt that she was all woman.

“Okay scrawny did you get enough of a show yet? I got a taster this afternoon but I want the full course now strip little man.”

Joe obliged with enthusiasm. He pulled off the robe first. She had already seen him nȧkėd from the waste up. This time she paid closer attention. Her face getting more and more focused each time she looked at a different part of his torso and arms. He had typical gamer’s body. Average arms and a little gut growing a bit pudgy. He still had his jeans on so he unbuckled his belt then let them drop to the floor. His gray boxer brɨėfs had a definite bulge in the front. She looked down at his crotch and a smile crossed her face. She quickly passed over that area then continued down his legs.

“My my my little stick man you are practically a blank slate. If I didn’t see THAT for myself I’d doubt you had ever had puberty.” She gave a long stretch upwards with her arms that contracted her triceps and gave Joe a full view of her hairy armpits.

“Momma wants a foot rub before bed. Do a good job and I might let you give my glutes a rubdown. Also you get to be little spoon tonight on the mattress I’m not having that little worm poke my back all night when I’m trying to sleep.”