FRAGMENTED (part VIII)
Created | Updated Aug 4, 2003
Episode 8: Great Expositions
Baxter was getting rather agitated. This.. this person that had quite literally fallen out out of the sky was just standing there with a confused look on its face while he struggled to free his foot from a grate.
Granted he was trying to run away from this person but the least it could do was give him a hand!
'U R BaxTer, Rn't U?' asked the observer.
"It" was human shaped but looked like it had been designed through a Do-It-Yourself homo-sapien construction manual, and as such, the builder [or builders. Everybody knows that it takes more than yourself to do DIY] had misplaced parts and decided it wasn't necessary to read the whole manual as he/she/it had gotten the gist with "figure 3f".
The humanoid, he - at least that's what it looked and had spoken like - was black. Not the brown pigmentation of skin, but black, the non-colour.
His clothes, Baxter noted throughout his struggle, weren't modern. They were a collection of animal hides - shades of almost black - that Baxter had only seen in pictures about the Animalia Age.
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The Animalia Age was the time when man wore cattle horns, smelt of fish, called people dogs, put dragon-heads on their ships, wore wolf skins, stole sheep and chickens while refering to women as "birds". The acted like pigs basically.
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This guy, however, did not look barbaric like the Animalians did.
He was clean-shaven and clean-cut with short black hair that had one silver strand which would normally appear to have come down past his nose, but instead was currently situated on the right earlobe as if grasping on as best it could. Baxter had absorbed all that in one glance and was already starting to hate the guy. The guy was the anti-Baxter. He looked like he could be a pop idol. To make matters worse is that he looked like a pop idol that could SING!
Baxter's foot finally dislodged itself which sent him staggering backwards into some bins.
A muffled, wet splat rose from the grate.
'Great.' Baxter moaned from within the metal pile. 'That'sh the shecond shandal in five daysh.'
The humanoid moved to speak but was silenced by Baxter's hand motioning to give him a minute.
Baxter opened his robe-like jacket and pulled out a brown leather sole along with a small length of rope before removing a needle from a row of twelve under his left wrist.
A thread was taken out of the matted bottom of his jacket.
The apparent human raised an eyebrow while Baxter was struggling to thread the needle. He watched the human, stabbing himself in the thumb numerous times, then reached around the back of his furs and took out a wooden clip-board complete with parchment attached.
'U haVe 2 B BAxteR,' said the black figure who began to read from the board. '"LooK 4 gUy Who lOoks liKE He HAs SneEZeD His nosTRil HAir onTo hIs chiN."' He sighed. 'HoLdeR coUld hAve maDE THiS clEareR.'
'Ow! Yeah, well... ow!' Baxter paused. 'Hang on, did you shay "Holder"?'
He looked up.
'YEs. I'm TheIR rePreseNTativE,' replied the representative moving the clip-board away from his face.
'S--t!' screamed Baxter, who then tried to run but his bare foot slipped on the grate. He collapsed onto the ground with his chin bouncing neatly off the end of one of the bins on its side.
["S--t" was the only swear Baxter ever used. He liked it because it was one of words that his impediment gave dramatic emphasis.
He had only ever learned the word in the first place because the dog that he had as a child was too stubborn to 'sit' on the first few commands.]
As predictable as it would have been for Baxter to have wanted to leg it at the rep's Creator reference, this was not the case.
For it was when the representative moved the board, Baxter saw the eyes. In the mass of black skin where the face was, the representative had no pupils.
Baxter was getting rather agitated. This.. this person that had quite literally fallen out out of the sky was just standing there with a confused look on its face while he struggled to free his foot from a grate.
Granted he was trying to run away from this person but the least it could do was give him a hand!
'U R BaxTer, Rn't U?' asked the observer.
"It" was human shaped but looked like it had been designed through a Do-It-Yourself homo-sapien construction manual, and as such, the builder [or builders. Everybody knows that it takes more than yourself to do DIY] had misplaced parts and decided it wasn't necessary to read the whole manual as he/she/it had gotten the gist with "figure 3f".
The humanoid, he - at least that's what it looked and had spoken like - was black. Not the brown pigmentation of skin, but black, the non-colour.
His clothes, Baxter noted throughout his struggle, weren't modern. They were a collection of animal hides - shades of almost black - that Baxter had only seen in pictures about the Animalia Age.
-----------
The Animalia Age was the time when man wore cattle horns, smelt of fish, called people dogs, put dragon-heads on their ships, wore wolf skins, stole sheep and chickens while refering to women as "birds". The acted like pigs basically.
-----------
This guy, however, did not look barbaric like the Animalians did.
He was clean-shaven and clean-cut with short black hair that had one silver strand which would normally appear to have come down past his nose, but instead was currently situated on the right earlobe as if grasping on as best it could. Baxter had absorbed all that in one glance and was already starting to hate the guy. The guy was the anti-Baxter. He looked like he could be a pop idol. To make matters worse is that he looked like a pop idol that could SING!
Baxter's foot finally dislodged itself which sent him staggering backwards into some bins.
A muffled, wet splat rose from the grate.
'Great.' Baxter moaned from within the metal pile. 'That'sh the shecond shandal in five daysh.'
The humanoid moved to speak but was silenced by Baxter's hand motioning to give him a minute.
Baxter opened his robe-like jacket and pulled out a brown leather sole along with a small length of rope before removing a needle from a row of twelve under his left wrist.
A thread was taken out of the matted bottom of his jacket.
The apparent human raised an eyebrow while Baxter was struggling to thread the needle. He watched the human, stabbing himself in the thumb numerous times, then reached around the back of his furs and took out a wooden clip-board complete with parchment attached.
'U haVe 2 B BAxteR,' said the black figure who began to read from the board. '"LooK 4 gUy Who lOoks liKE He HAs SneEZeD His nosTRil HAir onTo hIs chiN."' He sighed. 'HoLdeR coUld hAve maDE THiS clEareR.'
'Ow! Yeah, well... ow!' Baxter paused. 'Hang on, did you shay "Holder"?'
He looked up.
'YEs. I'm TheIR rePreseNTativE,' replied the representative moving the clip-board away from his face.
'S--t!' screamed Baxter, who then tried to run but his bare foot slipped on the grate. He collapsed onto the ground with his chin bouncing neatly off the end of one of the bins on its side.
["S--t" was the only swear Baxter ever used. He liked it because it was one of words that his impediment gave dramatic emphasis.
He had only ever learned the word in the first place because the dog that he had as a child was too stubborn to 'sit' on the first few commands.]
As predictable as it would have been for Baxter to have wanted to leg it at the rep's Creator reference, this was not the case.
For it was when the representative moved the board, Baxter saw the eyes. In the mass of black skin where the face was, the representative had no pupils.
