Day 80: Electric

            Positivity flowing!  Typing this while shaving with electric razor.  Electric razors give you perfect pitch, try singing while using one some time.
            Trying to get this done earlier and earlier.  It's down to a system.  We finish about 1,000 words and then proofread brings that number up to 1600-1700.  One of these days I really need to proofread that national novel writing month novel that I did.  You remember that one, loyal reader.  It's ironic because by saying loyal reader I'm talking to myself in the future, when me in the future is talking to me in the past.

          Letter from me in the future:

          Keep going you're only on Day 80.  You're gonna get good at this stuff and knock it out of the park before breakfast.  Also, I know it sounds counterproductive, but watch more movies.  It will give you a better idea how different variables and themes are introduced.  Always be studying!

          From the yacht,

          Future me with thousands of dollars

            I changed the font for effect.  

            He swung out a hand and hit the off switch before its rockets could fire off.  Even when it relaxed and fell back into a neutral position it still looked threatening, and Dream Roger worked with difficulty to turn it around in the opposite direction.

            In the meantime, Jim had accumulated quite a crowd with his anecdotes.  The surrounding booths had no choice but to listen to his stories, some people laughing and guffawing from across the way.

            “So he thought by putting a hydrogen charged particle in the electron based carbonite…”  Jim made something up.  These people were eating it up, he thought of himself as a maestro in front of an audience.  Or, better yet, a conductor in front of an orchestra.

            The cappuccinos went straight to his heart, he could feel a warm sensation inside that was pleasant even though it might have been a heart attack.  His eyes ached, his arms trembled, but his resolve went unshaken. 

            “Roger, you’ve been out for a couple of hours,”  Jim playfully jabbed at Roger, smiling up at the crowd.  A few of the fan boys friends had joined him.

            “Is it true what they say?”  One of them asked.  He was wearing a backward baseball cap and a NASA T-shirt.  Thousand years in space.  Whatever that means.  “You could build a contraption out of anything in front of you, any time?”

            Jim eyeballed the table.  Napkin dispenser, forks and knives, overhead sound system, juke box.  “I could instill life on that napkin dispenser, yes I could.”

            Roger woke up violently with a placemat stuck to his head and gasped for air.  “We have to go.” 

            “You guys are a regular comedy duo!”  An oblivious old man laughed.

            Jim left a handful of wadded disgusting bills on the table, and they squeezed past the patrons.  Jim elicited cheers, and he held his hand up in the air in a Black Power fist. 

            “What in the world is wrong with you?”  Roger whispered in a stern bass, pushing Jim faster toward the door.  Jim tried to turn around and do a Nixon “I’m not guilty” pose, but Roger pushed harder and they were out the front door.

            Down the flat interstate that seemed to curve on as far as the naked eye could perceive, a grey dot came into view again.  It was traveling a lot faster than before, and Jim stared at it, transfixed.  He gripped the bike rack and let out a short loud whistle, Roger tugging at him to get to the car.

            “Check that out!”  Jim pointed, Roger turning his face slowly with horror.

            The Bully Bot had added a mobile apparatus underneath itself, its body resting on top of it like a Greek god being fed grapes.  The blue chrome apparatus had treads on the bottom, resembling a long glider of sorts..  The crowd gaped at the windows, all eyes on the road.

            Roger made a dash for the car, prodding Jim one last time before taking off in a bolt.  Jim stayed perched on the bike rack, nodding and evaluating his creation from afar.  It was suddenly larger, more adult; it had grown up.  “That’s something you don’t see every day.”  He whistled to himself and pushed off of the bike ramp with newfound vigor, the Subaru flying past him.

            The sun hazed over on the orange horizon like butter on a pancake.  The telephone lines stretched parallel to the road, crows resting furtively on top of the wires.

            The Bully Car Bot flew closer, tossing gravel and dirt underneath it.  It practically looked like Aladdin on a carpet.  As it approached, it slowed to a steadier pace, and looked at Jim, its face vacant behind retractable sunglasses.

            “Jim what the hell are you doing?”  Roger called out of the window of the Subaru, the car idling on the edge of the parking lot.  “I will leave without you.”

            It was only about one hundred yards away, Jim awestruck like it was a famous rockstar coming to see him.  The nerds came out of the restaurant when it was close enough to see the bot, the one with the backward cap turning it around to use it for its functional purpose.  The other two shielded their eyes, the mexican one’s giant eyebrows looking like an extension of his sideways karatechop.

            The tread collapsed underneath it as they pulled up, and BB jumped off of it like a skateboard.  It folded up into the shape of a blue robotic humanoid, not unlike a three dimensional bathroom sign.  The blue was vivid, like dark mountain glaciers, and it reflected into Jim’s eyes like it had been made to do so. 

            Roger scooted across the bucket seats with difficulty, his lower body remaining in the drivers side, and pushed the door open.  The door struck Jim in the lower back, which was great because it showed him where the car was.  He realized as he sat down in the car that he was nearly blind.

            He tried to attach the seatbelt right away with Roger’s urges, he ruminated aggressively as he pulled himself back up to seated position.  The blue robot was gone when he looked back, the Bully Bot strutting with casual urgency.  The original fan ran up to it, touching it and admiring it with a wide smile.

            “Stay away from it!”  Jim called, with no success.  Roger swung the car with a sharp right and continued down the road in the opposite direction, the fat fans scream coming from a distance.  Red sprayed up into the air like a fountain, and appeared to disappear as mist in the mirror.

            “It’s funny,”  Jim started, looking over at Roger who had a very grave look on his face.  “I don’t mean actually funny, ok, let me start over.  The further out we get into the real world, the more real things get, did you notice that?” 

            A police car came flying by in the opposite direction, sirens blaring and blue and red lights flashing.

            “That’s bullshit, Jim, and you know it.  This is the one most surreal event that has happened to me in my life.  Do you have family, Jim?  You don’t know how this is at all.  You feel like this is real because you are disconnected.  I was content with my boring life, I know this is hard to believe.”

            They drove on in silence, passing vast plateaus of nothingness on either side.  Occasionally a street sign would assure them the area they were in was civilized.

            “There!”  Jim called abruptly, gesturing at a shack off the road surrounded by tires and wire fences.  “That’s Otto’s place.”

            One of those days where, yeah the story isn't great, but I feel like this stuff is getting easier.  I'll get there just stick it out with me ladies and gentlemen.  The trick is to not go back to school.