Journal Journal: Watch your language, young man!
Please excuse me, but I'm inebriated. Blame typos on beer and reefer, without which this story probably wouldn't have been written.
Sober edit: this journal is also here where the unicode works properly. Who would have thought a one year old could kick a teenager's ass?
âoeWild Bill! Damn, what a surprise! Why didn't you call?â
âoeBecause then it wouldn't have been a surprise! Give me a Newcastle, I haven't had a beer in nine months! How've you been, you old pirate killer?â
âoeI'm doing great, just graduated business school two months ago. The bar is doing real good, and Destiny and her team have almost finished building that new kind of telescope. You sure you want Newcastle?â
âoeHuh? Your Newcastle went bad?â
âoeHere, you old asshole, have one of mine on the house,â John said, pouring from a tapper to a beer mug. âoeTell me what you think. There's nothing wrong with my Newcastle stock but I'll bet you won't want Newcastle after you try this.â
Bill eyed the mug warily. âoeImport?â He took a sip. âoePretty good!â He took another sip. âoeYou were right! This is some damned good beer. What country was it imported from?â
âoeMars, you asshole. I built a microbrewery here. At least, it started as a microbrewery, it's a lot bigger now. Hell, I'm exporting it to Earth.â
âoeWhat? Bullshit, you're full of shit, you old bulshitter. Come on, you can't bullshit a bullshitter. After shipping it would cost ten times what Newcastle cost!â
âoeYep, just like Newcastle is ten times what Captain Hooker's cost here.â
âoeForgswaggle!â
âoeYoung man!â an old woman at the other end of the bar admonished, âoeWatch your fucking language, asshole!â
Bill turned red as a beet. âoeOh shit, I'm sorry, Ma'am, I didn't see you down there, I thought just John and me was here.â
âoeWell, just watch it, dickhead.â
âoeYes ma'am.â He turned back to John.
âoeBut who in the hell is buying it?â
âoeWho do you think? People who eat pork.â
âoeDamn, you must be doing good. What's with that giant framed picture of a guy in an eigtheenth century pirate costume with a parrot on his shoulder and playing a guitar?â
âoeIt's a photo of an old blues guy centuries ago, John Lee Hooker, with the pirate stuff added in a computer.â
âoeYour last run. The one with all them damned pirates. Now I get it. Damn, that was pretty scary. I didn't think I'd make it back to Mars. At least, until the fleet reached me. You were pretty far ahead...â
âoeWell, DUH, you were on batteries.â
âoeYeah, the pirates showed up right when the fleet did. I thought I'd get boarded. Scared the fognart out of me!â
âoeYOUNG MAN!!!â
âoeOops, shit, I forgot. I'm sorry, maam.â
âoeSpew shit out of your mouth again, young man, and I'm kicking your God damned ass.â
âoeSorry, ma'am.â
âoeFuck you.â
He turned back to John, his red face a little less red. âoeHey, sell me a half dozen kegs. I have to go back to Saturn and that's a long damned way.â
âoeSorry, Bill, I ain't gonna do it.â
âoeWhat?? What the fuck, John?â
âoeSorry, Bill, but I lost too many friends already, damn them fucking pirates. I almost lost Gus thanks to my stupidity and I'll be damned if I'm going to be responsible for your dying. I ain't got enough friends to lose any more, especially you.â
âoeJohn, what in the blagsphorth are...â
âoeYOUNG MAN!!!â
âoeOops, fuck, I'm sorry, maam. I keep forgetting.â
âoeJust watch your fucking mouth, boy.â
âoeYes, maam. John, what the FUCK are you talking about?â
âoeI'm talking about Gus. I almost killed him!â
âoeGus? Blagforth...â
âoeYOUNG MAN! I'm not listening to this garbage!â The old woman stomped out.
âoeBlagforth forgnart, Bill, that's one of my best patrons, spends a fortune getting blagforthfaced in here.â
âoeGee, John, I don't want to cause you any lost business...â
âoeGarp that old crant,â John said. âoeIt's a fognarth fucking bar. If she don't want to hear vulgar language she can drink somewhere else.â
âoeWhy won't you sell me that beer?â
âoeI told you, because of Gus. I almost killed him.â
âoeWhat the fognarth are you talking about?â
âoeGus came through about six months ago or so. I hadn't seen him in a long damned time, he hadn't had any Martian runs. Anyway, he wanted beer, Loved my Captain Hooker's Pale Ale...â
âoeWhat am I drinking?â
âoeLager. Anyway, he wanted fifteen barrels. I didn't think nothing of it, but he was drunk on his approach to Mars and the God damned pirates, as few as there are left, almost got him. I almost killed Gus and I'll be damned if I'm going to kill you!â
âoeFognarth blagsphorth, John, you fucking asshole. Yeah, you shouldn't have sold beer to Gus. Shit, that asshole is an alcoholic. What the fucking blagsphorth is wrong with you, asshole? Jesus, John. You're a fucking moron.â
âoeWell, garp, I guess you're not Gus. Okay, I'll sell you the garping beer, motherfucker. But God damned fognarth, you better not garping die!â