Trial By Intimacy

by Claude Hopper

A Mare Inebrium Story
Mare Inebrium Universe created by Dan Hollifield


I ain't gonna tell you how I found a way t' get t' the Mare Inebrium from Earth, mostly 'cause you wouldn't believe me anyway. But if you want t' check out every Roadhouse on highway 441 between Athens and Commerce, Ga. for one that has an extra door near the restrooms... I say, go for it- everybody gotta have a hobby. Me? I'm content just t' accept the situation and t' have a good time when I get there. I never thought the place was real, I mean really real, until I found m'self sittin' there and Trixie handin' me a beer.

So anyway, I been poppin' into the Mare about twice a month since I found the way and I'da never told a soul- seein' as how a rubber room is easy enough to get into, but hard as hell to get out of -'cept in this case Max clued me t' the fact that nobody'd believe me anyway. It was way after dark and I'd done m'share of drinkin' for the night. I'd been in one of the back booths, listen' t' Bert the cab driver spin a few yarns while I did m'drinkin', and time just kinda slipped away from me. I was about ready t' head for home when I noticed Max clearin' a place at the bar like he was gettin' ready for somebody important t' show up. I perked up real quick-like and started t' ease up toward the bar t' be nosey- Just as I saw a familiar-lookin' gink sit down and Max start treatin' him like a king. Blanche and Trixie came up and gave him a hug like he was a long-lost brother or somethin'. That caught my eye right off, but like I said, there was somethin' familiar about the dude t' start with. He still had his back t' me, but I felt like I oughta know him from somewhere. Then he turned around and looked over the whole barroom with this look on his face. If the phrase "sardonic amusement" woulda been in a dictionary, this guy's picture woulda been next to it. He was wearing bluejeans and a black cutaway coat with some kinda badge pinned to the lapel and had a cowboy hat pushed way back on his head. I saw him mumble something to Blanche and she slipped off towards the kitchen as I walked up closer to him- then it hit me; I knew this guy! Max poured him an Irish Whiskey and when I saw him with a drink in his hand I recognized him for sure. Who'd a thunk it? Him? Here? Then he saw me and his face split in a grin wide enough to come in on radar.

"Claude! You old shitkicker! What the hell are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Dan'l ol' son," I said. "This is a long way from the ol' UGA Library... or the 40 Watt. How'd you find this place?"

"This is my place," he said, still grinnin'. "I'm always here."

"Sho' nuff?" I asked him. "Never seen you here before. Your place, ya say? I thought it was Max's- Either that or a hallucination. A nice hallucination, maybe- but with all these space critters hangin' out here I kinda figured that I's stuck in a straitjacket back home and just dreamin'. "

"No," he said. "Nothing like that. The Mare is as real a place as anywhere you've ever been. Remember what we figured out back in college? If the universe is really infinite, then not only is anything possible, but its required! 'Everything you conceive exists, somewhere.' Well- I conceived it, so it does exist. The best damn bar in the universe, and I dreamed it up."

"Cocky little sumbitch, ain't ya?" I said, laughin'. "Well, ya did good ol' son. Ya did good. Dunno if I believe ya, but who gives a wallowin' pigwhistle what I believe?"

"Same old Claude," he said. "Don't give a tinker's damn what anyone thinks, trust your own eyes, and don't sit with your back to any doors. But tell me- How did you find your way here?"

So I told him about the extra door and which roadhouse it was in, and let him buy me another drink.

"I never made that one up," he said. "One of the others must have written it."

I allowed as how that was a suitably mysterious remark and invited him to explain. I also sipped carefully on m'whiskey- 'cause I know what kinda liquor Dan puts away. Dangerous stuff, that is. Why, I remember the last time me and him, Bubba, and a few close friends partied together at one of the clubs in Athens... I wound up tryin' to explain to a soused physics co-ed that a hard-on wasn't a new sub-atomic particle and gettin m'face slapped for m'trouble. The boy can put it away, what I'm tellin' you. Plus the liquor itself could take the chrome off a trailer hitch faster than a cheerleader in the parkin' lot at the prom. Gotta be careful here, I thought t' m'self. This boy's got East Tennessee hillbilly blood in his veins, remember. He can put it away all day and never show it.

"Well," he said by way of beginnin' his explanation. "You remember how I used to have that garage band thing going on, back in the old days?" I just nodded so's t' not to slow him down. "One night when you and Bubba were out painting the town red, Jim Parnell and I got absolutely fertilizer-faced and started brainstorming some really wild ideas. Somehow, before the night was over we came up with the idea of a bar that would be located at the north pole of Earth's moon. A bar where anything could happen- anything at all. We got so many good ideas rolling that we had to write them all down so that we could remember them later."

"When you got sober again," I said, just to show that I understood what he was gettin' at.

"Exactly. Well, what we didn't know at the time was that by creating a place like that in our minds, we'd created it for real! Well, a year or so after that, everybody graduated and the gang all split up. You and Bubba took off for parts unknown, Parnell left, Allen got killed in a car wreck... Jay's girlfriend Brandy went off up north- to far yankeeland -to work on her Master's or PHD in quantam physics. Jay pined away for her for a month or two and then followed her up and they got married."

"I remember her cookin' best of all," I said. "I always figured her t' be a good match for Jay. Brains, beauty, and the best damn Creole cook that ever walked..."

"Don't give me that racial crap, Claude. You know I don't like to hear that from anyone," he said, givin' me a look that I remembered as bein' the prelude to a verbal butt-kickin'. "Am I gonna have to get medieval on your hiney?"

Woah shit... Defcon 4, I thought. All hands stand by t' repell boarders! "Hey!" I said in self defence. "It's me, remember? I'm the one that stomped that Sandler boy into the dirt for sayin' that Jay'd married beneath his race! The way I see it there's only one race on Earth- the human race. It ain't my fault if some of our fellow humans are too dumb to pour sand out of a boot- with instructions printed on the heel. I never thought that there was anything wrong with Jay bein' as Irish as a Mickey Finn and Brandy being a quadroon- or whatever they call it in New Orleans. She looks like a black woman to me, no big deal. Just chill, will ya? Like I said, she and Jay are a good match. They were made for each other. T' tell th' truth, I was just talkin' about the style of her cookin', not the color of her skin. You're pretty thin-skinned over racism, ain'tcha?"

"Sorry Claude," he said. "You know that racist bull makes me blow my top. Hell, I've known you since my family moved to Georgia," he added as he relaxed again. "You've been my friend longer than anyone- except Uncle Chucky I guess -I ought to realize when you're making a joke. Sorry. Now, where was I?"

"You were tellin' me how you'd come to make this place real..."

"Oh, yeah. Well, a couple of years after everybody left I started writing down stories. Just little things, but they showed some promise of getting to be better. So I wrote and wrote, and somewhere in the back of my mind this bar kept getting more and more developed. Details just kept coming to me. One day I decided to put the bar on this world that I'd made up for some of my other stories. Sort of a tribute to the good times that I'd had in the old days. As I was writing, it was like watching a video tape of what was happening in the story. I liked it, it felt right, and it happened again when I decided to write another story set in this bar."

"It kinda snowballed," I said to show that I understood.

"You don't know the half of it," he said. "The Mare got realer and realer to me. Then some friends wanted to write a few stories set here. The more that they wrote, the realer the place got- Then one day I was here! I walked through a perfectly normal doorway- an here I was."

"You just walked in?"

"That's right," he said. "I just walked in."

"You musta thought you'd flipped your wig."

"In a nutshell," he grinned. "Either it was real, or I was crazy. Either I was really here, or I was in a looney bin somewhere and just thinking I was here- Or I was dead and this was my idea of heaven."

"That pretty much covers it," I said. "How'd you decide that you weren't nuts?"

"I never did, but I'm too damn stubborn to let that bother me. What seems real, is real..."

"Until somebody proves it ain't," I said.

"Right. So when I found myself back home and everything was normal, but- I still had the memories of being here -I decided that the universe was way stranger than I had imagined and went on with my life. I mean, if I was a nut then having an imaginary bar to go to was harmless nuttery. And if it was real, then I'd be a fool to act like it wasn't. I've spent most of my life living inside my own head anyway- What with my family moving around so much to neighborhoods where there weren't any kids my age, I got to use my imagination more than most kids. Or I had my nose stuck in a book when I wasn't out on a tractor in the middle of Nowhere, Madison County. So when I was able to come here and then go home again, I didn't flip out."

"So you kept findin' your way back here?" I asked.

"Time and time again," he said smugly. "All I have to do is want to be here- and here I am. Wherever I need a doorway here, one appears. It may have to do with my outlook on Life, the Universe, and Everything, so to speak. I really do believe in mutiple universes, timelines, dimentions- Whatever you want to call 'em. I think people constantly shift from one timeline to another similar, but slightly different timeline, as natural as breathing. Everyone does it all the time, and never notices. Of course, there might be only the smallest difference between timelines, but who's gonna notice a grain of sand out of place? Sometimes, I'll bet that people get too far away from where they came from and what's normal for them. I'd be surprised if that's not the real reason for some crazy people, as well as all that Charles Fort stuff. People who've strayed too far. Deep doodoo, you know? Max, another round for the redneck and I."

"Two Tullamore Dews for the hayseeds," Max said grinning. "Coming right up."

"Watch it, bub. Get smart with me and I just might shorten your... lifeline." Dan said, grinning.

"Hey, woah! Pax! Peace! I surrender," said Max. "Don't shorten anything I've got! Please! I kind of enjoy the length of everything that I have," he grinned. Trixie grinned too and bent to whisper in Dan'l's ear. "Hey! You stay out of this, woman! The last thing that I need is another editor! Don't listen to her, Dan. No matter what she says!"

"She was just complimenting me on my, um, creativity. Don't worry Max," Dan smiled and pushed his glasses up with a forefinger. "You're all too well developed now for further editing."

"I just had a thought," I began.

"Treat it gently," said Blanche while setting a sandwich plate in front of my friend. "Its in a strange place." I watched as Dan started to demolish the sandwich. Roast beef with all the trimmings, piled high enough to make Dagwood Bumstead wish he were twins before tackling it- at least five inches thick. Lettuce, spinach leaves, cucumber slices, tomato slices, pickles, olives, onions, bell peppers, and lots of other stuff topped off with a viginarette dressing and spices... The boy can eat, too, I thought.

"Cute," I replied to Blanche. "Remind me to spank you some time- after I've had m' vitamins." Did I ever mention that Blanche looked as if she could tear linebackers in half without breaking a sweat? Remind me not t' ever get that woman mad at me! "Seriously, I was wonderin' what would happen t' the Mare here if somethin' ever happened to Dan'l?"

"Not a damn thing," said Dan between bites. "There are over a hundred fifty stories set here in the Mare already. Everyone would keep on keeping on even if I were to die right now. And Blanche, this meal is to die for! I'm so glad I kept your cooking skills from your original. Think of it as a testimonial to the other you in the real world... The other real world, I mean. I wrought better than I knew when I wrote you. Nevertheless, I've done my duty, I am now superfluous."

"But always welcome," cooed Trixie, batting her eyelashes. "I've told you before..."

"Trixie," Dan began, then paused. Was it my imagination or did his voice just drop an octave? "I've told you before, the woman that you're based on is now happily married to someone else and I may not ever see her again. Therefore..." he paused for another bite. "Therefore, any romance between us would be somewhat slightly immoral. And if, indeed, I created you out of whole cloth, then it would be slightly incestuous as well."

Trixie looked disappointed, but she's a healthy girl, she'll get over it. Meanwhile, m' question needed more of an answer, I thought. "How do you know that this place would be safe without you?" I asked my friend.

"Hmm," he said, sipping his drink. "I don't. Not finally and for certain, that is. But I do have a little bit of proof that backs up my opinion." he fell to munching on the final bites of his sandwich.

"Which is?" I asked.

"Things keep happening in the Mare when I'm not here and I'm not writing Mare stories," he said as if answering the mysteries of the universe. "The place has taken on a life of it's own. Its like- Like you finding your way here, for example. After all, the Mare Inebrium is a 'shared universe,' I'm only the senior writer around here, not the sole creator. This place has a reality all of it's own now. If the Mare has duration and existence while I'm not in it, then it becomes no different from the rest the parts of my life that happen when I'm not right there looking at them. Its just as real as going to work, paying bills, or talking to someone in the chat networks while my homelife goes on at the same time. The Mare can continue without me, therefore it is just as real as anything else."

I gotta admit, he had me there. "You want that pickle?" I asked by way of changin' the subject.

"Hell yes, I want that pickle," he said in a fake grumpy tone of voice. "If you're hungry, ask Blanche or Trixie nicely. They may condescend to fix something for you."

"OK beautiful," I looked at Blanche in what I was hopin' was a properly pitiable manner. "Would you mind whoppin' me up a sammich like the one the bottomless pit here just vanished? But smaller, please? I'd be infernally grateful ifin you would." OK, so I laid it on thick. Blanche has a great sense of humor, the most beautiful eyes, and her voice would give a statue romantic notions. She tended t' engender some notions on my part too. Down boy, I said to myself.

"For a gentleman like yourself," Blanche answered sarcastically- but still smilin', "It would be my pleasure."

"Claude," Dan said in that slow, musical, dangerously humorous tone of voice that I remembered meant that he was gonna drop some philosophical bombshell- or tell some awful pun.

"Yeah Dan'l?" I answered cautiously. Remember, I'd seen this guy at a party once- talkin' sense to a dude freaked out on acid that'd just punched a hole in the wall. Calmed the mother down and kept him from hurtin' the girlfriend he was mad at- or anyone else at the party. With Dan, politeness was a dangerous weapon. He can weild words as effectivly as a rapier. Thank god he's never wanted to go into politics!

"What makes you think that your other life- back home in Ila -can lay claim to being any more real than the Mare Inebrium?"

"Um," I said, like the true genius that I am. "Uh..." He's got me there, I thought. I looked at the grinnin' faces that surrounded me, then at the alien faces beyond them, then at the bar itself. "I guess reality is just what y' make of it."

"Point, set, and match," said Max, as he set both of us up a drink.

"Scuse me please, but you two need to come wit me," said the large alien that had wandered up to the bar, un-noticed. "My boss wants ta see yas, he wants ta see yas boat." He indicated a half dozen of his companions. "I do hope that we don't have to take dis poysonel. I dunno who ya are, an' its none of my business, but I'm invitin' ya boat ta come wid us quietly."

"I didn't write this either," Dan said in a low voice. He turned slightly, very carefully not moving his hands. "Maybe we ought to keep this in the family, Max. Stand down."

I saw Max's hand move away from the blaster that I just knew he'd been reachin' for, then he blinked twice. "In the family," he said. "Whatever you say... the customer is always right." His hands quit movin', but his feet moved- like he'd stepped on somethin'.

I could see Trixie out of the corner of my eye. She was servin' drinks to a table across the room. I saw Blanche, reflected in one of the mirrors, like she knew what was goin' on and was fixin' to go postal. This wasn't gonna be pretty if she jumped one of these goons.

"Gentlemen," Dan said brightly. "I do hope that there won't be any- unpleasantness. Do we have to go very far?"

Oh hell, I thought. He's gonna start somethin', I just know it! Dan, you arrogant ass, what are you doing? How do I back your play? Damn it, I'm in the dark here. "Who's the big man that want's t' see us?" I asked, hopin' to stall for time.

"Dat doan make no nevermind," said their leader. "He say go fetchu, we go fetchu. It ain't far. We gotta ride outside. You comin gentle, or d'we get to rumble? No skin off my noses, neither way. Boys, ya ready?" I could see the "boys" doing some unlimbering exercises. They looked ready to carry us both out, kicking and screaming if necessary. I been in a few- very few -bar brawls before, but not with an alien. Not one that looked as big as a house. We're in deeeep doo-doo, I thought.

"Dan'l," I began.

"Of course we'll come with you," Dan said. Surprised me, I thought he was gonna jump 'em, myself. "If you'd kindly lead the way to your vehicle- And I'm sure that your colleagues would be delighted to follow along behind us, to protect us, so to speak. I'm sure this is a minor matter, easily taken care of, and then your employer will no doubt have you bring us back here."

No doubt, I thought. If these guys ain't alien gangsters, I'll eat my hat. Wait a minute... I hadda hat when I came in... What happened to it?

"Max," Dan added as we turned to leave with the aliens. "Say 'Hey' to your cousin Rube for me, if you see him."

"Sure thing, if he ever comes in," Max replied.

Well! I thought. I got it, I think Max got it. I knew that Dan always carried a gun too, but I dunno how much good it'd do us, or how long he'd get t' keep it. At least a call for help went out. Now its up to Cousin Rube.We followed the spokesman out into the street and into a hovercar. This buggy was tricked out like a limo- Know what I mean? Luxury, plain and simple. I started gettin more nervous, but Dan'l just acted bored and kicked back, pullin' his hatbrim down over his eyes like he was nappin'. The windows went black as we lifted off, so there was nothin' t' see anyway. We were gettin' the velvet glove treatment, for now. I wondered when the iron fist was gonna start showin' through- And what we could do about it.

"Will you relax," Dan said without lifting his hatbrim. "If we're being taken for a ride, at least its a comfortable one. We're not really in dire straits..."

"An' I was so lookin' forward t' playin' Sultans of Swing at the next concert." I looked around at the gangsters an' wondered what they thought of our joking.

"That's better," Dan sighed, straightened up, and pushed his hat back. "We ought to be getting there soon. Then, we'll see what this is all about and leave."

"You make it all sound so simple. Two hack sci-fi writers against an army of these 'gentlemen'?"

Dan looked serious for a moment, then smiled. "Two writers against an army? Well, when you put it that way, it isn't really fair. But they asked for it." He shrugged, then looked unconcerned. The limo stopped then and the windows went clear. We were in a parking hanger up way high in one of the skyscrapers downtown, judging from what I saw as the hanger door was closing. And now we'd gotten t' the point in all the movies where the gloves came off. The doors opened and we stepped out of the limo- the "boys" gathering close. Now is when Dan looses his gun, I thought t' myself. I hope he don't do somethin' stupid.

"Nothin' poysonel, but we gotta search ya fer weapons now," said the group's spokesman. "Just da rules."

Dan raised his hands a little and just looked at the spokesman real hard. "You don't have to search us..." Then he smiled.

"We don't have to search you..." The gangster's eyes looked sorta glazed for a minute.

"Its obvious that we're unarmed." Dan's voice was reasonable and polite.

"I can see ya ain't packin' no heat."

"The boss is waiting. We should go."

"What're we standin' here for? The Boss'll be pissed. Come on you two, da elevator's this way."

"OK Obi-Dan, where'd you learn that?" I hissed as we were led away.

"I only steal from the best," Dan replied. "I've been trying to tell you to relax. Honestly, you make me feel like I'm the only one who sees that the Emperor is gonna catch cold. Remember where we are- where we really are -and why we're really here. Besides, don't forget Rube, he'll be eager to look us up."

"Alright, inna elevator. Snap it up."

"What's the rush?" Dan asked- with a wicked gleam in his eye. "Getting hungry?" Dan grinned wide enough to frighten sharks. Woulda scared the nads offa the Marques de Sade, 'n' damn near made me soil m'underwear. And Dan's my friend! "You're name is Gloot, isn't it?"

The henchman's eyes glazed over again, then he blinked. "Yeah. Dat's right. I'm Gloot. Funny, now datchu mention it, I gotta sudden cravin' for hardboiled Glimp eggs... An' I doan even like Glimp eggs. Guzzio, hit da button. Da sooner we drop off these guys off ta da Boss, da sooner we can go an' eat sumpum. Alla sudden, I'm starvin'."

"Right," said Guzzio- an alien of few words -as he punched a button.

"Are you showing off, Dan'l?" I whispered. He just smiled in that annoying way he's got and looked around at the elevator. Why do people avoid interactin' in an elevator? That one has always annoyed me. Sardonic amusement, I thought, lookin' at Dan'l. Behold thy posterboy. That attitude of his is really beginnin' t' grate. What does he know that I don't? That's what I'm wonderin'. The doors opened and we were ushered out into a hallway.

"Nice digs," said Dan. "Your boss does all right for himself." He was lookin' around like we were tourists in some French castle.

"That's why he's the Boss. This way... Here's his office."

He opened the door for us and we went inside. There was about two acres of carpet before you got to a desk you coulda launched airplanes offa, t' say nothing of the guy sittin' behind the desk. And the less said about him the better, as far as I was concerned. "Ugly" don't half touch it. "Alien" ain't even in the ballpark, an' as for "Monster", well that's a given- You know? But still, there was somethin' funny... He was kinda hard t' focus on, like he was in a fog or somethin'. He was all blurry around the edges. I didn't wanna look at him, for some reason. We walked across the floor with our "honor guard"- for about an hour, it felt like -then we were allowed to sit in some really plush chairs. My nerves were on edge, Dan looked like he was takin' tea with a Duke.

What does he know?

"Thank you for inviting us," Dan said smoothly to the- the thing -behind the desk. "Lovely place you've got here. I like what you've done with it. Wonderful use of space. Very organic, and flowing. Wonderful use of the light and available space... Must have set you back a pretty penny, but then you can afford it, can't you? Nice weather we're having lately. And so much of it- My, my... Now, how can we help you?"

"You are the one all right," said the thing. "The reports were right. You have authority, you have power. You will help me and I will be rich beyond my wildest dreams!"

I looked at Dan and just raised my eyebrows. What's with the Albert Campion routine? I thought.

"Hmmm... Tricky," Dan'l replied to the thing, as if he knew what it was talking about. "We might be able to work something out, but what exactly would you like me to do? Enlighten me."

What the hell are you, a genie? I shot Dan'l another look.

"You will change things for me," the thing said. "You have the power. You will kill all of the bank guards in the city and open all the banks to me. I will then gather all of the money and I will be rich. With you're powers at my beck and call, I will become the most powerful being in the cosmos!"

Defcon 5! I thought as all of the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

"And," said Dan pleasantly. "If I should choose not to help you at this time? Just for the sake of argument, you understand. Just checking my options."

"I will eat your face," said the thing. "You have no other option."

"Thought so," Dan calmly replied. He looked at me- I let my panic show. OK, I'm a wuss at heart when it comes to anything bigger than punching some troglidite in the nose for insulting a friend. "This has gone on long enough, you're frightening my friend and I don't like it. I don't like it at all. Bugger off! Your story has been rejected. Only a major re-write will earn it reconsideration as a future submission." He raised his hands again, like he did in the hanger. "Control / Break," he said- moving his fingers like he was typing -and everything froze. "Highlight text- Alt, Edit, Copy to clipboard, Delete highlighted text."

We stood in a formless, gray fog. Alone. A glittering circle appeared in the air and the Reever stepped through it, gun drawn. He looked at us, then took in the blank surroundings. "You called for back-up?" he said. "I take it you could handle it after all? Looks like a Literary Infraction to me. You know who to call. I'll leave it to you then." With that, the Reever stepped back through the circle and it contracted to a pinpoint and vanished.

"What the hell?" I shouted.

"Relax," Dan said. "It was beginning to read like a Tom Conway movie, so I stopped it. Then the Reever answered our call for help. No biggie."

"Mind explaining your explanation?"

"We're real people, right?"

"I was beginning to wonder, but yeah."

"And we were in the Mare Inebrium- an imaginary place- one that I invented, right?"

"Yeeeah..." I said slowly.

"But we were there, right? It was real for us."

"Riiiight..."

"So the whole thing was imaginary- but it felt real, right?"

"Uh, Dan'l, I ain't quite grasped it. What uh... What're you tryin' t' say?"

"Think, man! Do you remember what the gangsters looked like?"

"Big, mean, tough... What else?"

"What did they look like? Humans? Squids? An ink blot? What? Do you remember? How were they dressed? What kind of shoes did they wear? Did they even have feet? How many eyes did they have and what color were they? Do you remember anything? Any detail?"

I kinda caught a glimmer of what he was gettin' at, but it was really vague. "I... dunno. They were, um... They... but he... but- OK, I give, I give! What?"

He looked at me sadly, like I needed m'chin wiped. "The only way real people can get caught in imaginary surroundings is if they were characters in somebody's story."

"Oh damn," I replied slowly. Truth to tell, I was kinda stunned. I'm a figment of someone's else's imagination... What a revoltin' development! Shocked and stunned.

"We're up against another writer," Dan said. "But at least they're not a really good one."

"Run that one by me again, a little slower. I don't think my ear got a good grip on what you said."

"Someone was writing another Mare story. They decided to use us as characters. I bet we aren't even being written realistically. Your accent is way thicker than normal, for instance. You sound like you're from Texas, not Georgia. And I'm dressed up as a cowboy- which I rarely do in normal life. Only when I get dragged out to redneck bars or scf-fi conventions. And my dialogue! I'm sounding like a caricacture of me! The lack of details in the story and the mis-characterizations show that whoever they are, they haven't written much. They're not very good yet. Nothing had hard edges or real color. The characters weren't developed very much. They were pretty much just place-holders, straw men. That shows inexperience. There was no real motive for the actions of the characters. The chief villian was just a vague image- Like he wasn't even developed yet... Hell, we were probably in a first draft! I just edited the manuscript after I rejected it, that's all. I am the Series Editor" and the Mare Inebrium Creator. Co-Creator, actually. Anyway, if I'm inside of a Mare story, I have Vast Editorial Powers" he said, laughing.

"Do you do this all the time? By the way, I need a drink."

"I wind up in Mare stories a lot, yeah. But I don't usually have to hijack one. I'm sorry Claude. You wanna go back to the Mare? Or go home?"

"Yeah, I think that'd be best. Otherwise, I'm gonna need a padded room."

"No way! You just need a week at the beach, is all. Daytona's lovely this time of year."

"I wish."

"Nothing simpler. We can go right now. Sun, sand, surf, pretty girls, free drinks... Food... I can Cut and Paste that in right here and now. We can take a trip and never leave the farm."

"Sir, you interest me strangly."

Dan took his car keys out of his pants pocket and jungled them in the air. "Reality is just exactly what you make of it," he said, laughing. "To quote the movie Tron, 'Shall we dance?'"

I can get a drink at the beach, I thought. "You better lead," I said, grinnin'.

"Nothing easier. I'll just write us a little vacation. When we've had enough, I'll write us a doorway back to- what passes for reality back home. Gimmie a minute, will ya? Escape... Open New File," Dan said in that precise tone he uses sometimes. He gets pissed when I call it his "Spock" voice. I stifled a giggle as he continued.

"Add Text, quote,"
"The sun beat down upon the morning's receeding tide, the beach swept clean and gleaming for a new day. The dew was yet present, and the couples walking upon the beach spoke of romance with their every soft step leaving rainbow-edged footprints amidst the glittering gleam of the wet sand. Seashells sparkled amid the clean white sand as pelicans dove for small fish in the surf. Seagulls lofted overhead like strings of fancy kites or strode the beach dipping their beaks in the sand for tidbits. Children laughed and played amid the slowly crashing waves. Lovers touched each other in quiet thought as they walked, rejoicing in the morning light -Lost in the joy of being in love. Beautiful people in exotic swimsuits strolled the surf. A beautiful woman in a chrome-colored thong bikini was hawking rental beach umbrellas from a small trailer as smells from a sidewalk cafe' on the Boardwalk gave the promise of strong coffee and a hearty breakfast- or far headier drinking pleasures, should the mood strike later. Joy was in the very air- and the incense of salt, sand and sea winds swept over all who were present. We looked upon the new morning and saw that it was good, and we stepped out upon the sand to join the multitude of vacationers. For a while, we could ignore the cares of the world and bask in the sun, relax, and unwind. The gentle wind cooled our skin, even as the ocean's spray carressed us and cooled the sun's rays..."

--And suddenly I could smell the salt in the air!

The End


© 1999, 2004 by Claude Hopper

You can e-mail Claude at: claude01@chimera.com

Claude camping out in the woods.

Bio: Claude Hopper is a native of Danielsville Ga. and attended (but never graduated) the University of Georgia in the late 1970s (alongside Bubba, Jim Parnell, and Dan Hollifield) as a forestry major. Since then, Claude has held more jobs than the entire graduating class of Ila Elementary school, but now prefers to earn his living as a bricklayer. A pool shark of no mean ability, Claude often manages to supplement his income by gambling with drunks who seem to think that his bib overalls and plug of tobacco are a sign of stupidity. Nothing could be further from the truth as he is the only graduate of Madison Co. High school ever to achieve a perfect score on the SATs. Claude's hobbies include fishing, hunting, and the "pursuit of the perfect redhead."

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