THE VELVET UNDERGROUND - A Cowboy Bebop Fanfic.
By Pol De Martini. Inspired, in format, by the work of Agent Orange.
Chapter 1: Sunday Morning
Sunday morning, brings the dawn in
It's just a restless feeling,, by my side
Watch out, the world's behind you
The Bebop. What's all the fuss about? Big Shot never shuts up about it. Every loser on the street can't stop talking about this supposedly kick ass ship and it's savage bounty huntering crew. What a bunch of crap. A 9 foot tall jazzer with big green hair, a cyborg ex-cop, the hottest temptress in the universe, and some hacker outlaw from Earth? Sounds like the circus sideshow to me. Bounty hunters truly are the scum of the universe.
Eh, nevermind. That would be me (the scum of the universe.) I'm Simon. To be honest these guys are sort of like my heroes. All I ever hear is about how they are so skilled and have so many connections, They chase down some of the most choice bounties in the Solar System, only to completely fuck it up in the end and come home poor every time. It's hilarious. I've always wanted to be a failure that people talk about...I mean, I'd imagine it's pretty tough to be as much of a failure as I am, but it's gonna be nearly impossible to fail so hard and so often that you become popular. Popular, at least in the underground. Everyone hopes that the Bebop crew will come for them, cause it'll just end up being a lot of laughs and an inevitable triumph. I hope they come for me.
Like I said the name is Simon. I have a friend named Orange who I call Orange because the collar around his white dress shirt is always Orange with sweat. I think his real name is Stewart. Anyway he's a computer smartypants and he owed me a few woolongs so I got him to contact the Bebop for me.
"Um, we received your E-mail," announced a gruff voice. This had to be the ex-cop. He's probably like 5 foot 3 and balding, and just uses the tough guy voice to compensate. Hilarious. "So what exactly do you know?"
I gulped slowly and glanced at this guy's name, written sloppily on a stray napkin. Another source had done some digging and come up with the name "Jet Black." The Bebop is such a fucking joke. In an even more gruff, more compensating tone I bellowed, "Don't worry about the small things, Mr. Black. All I know is that I'm the man with the inside info around here. I've got the bounties they're afraid to put on Big Shot. The real stuff. Millions of woolongs that you'll never see unless you talk to me, cowboy. So you wanna know more?"
I heard the aural equivalent of a shrug through my receiver. Not only of the shoulders, but of the whole body. But especially the stomach. Then I heard the phone seem to drop, only to be fumbled and picked up by another individual.
"You know what asshole, I might be a stunning work of art, a billion times hotter than anything in your pathetic dreams, but I haven't tasted a family size bag of Sour Cream and Onion Ruffles in like three fucking years. So I'm sick of this bullshit. If you've got some bounties for us, then fire away. But if you're just putting on mommy's heels and strutting around the block, then don't bother us. No, don't bother me."
"Nonsense, miss." So this was the temptress. "I've got some sweet stuff for your crew. Special for you. I like your style," I whimpered, beginning to lose my nerve. This really was the Bebop.
"If you're lying, I'm going to have your shriveling little nuts for brunch." Suddenly my nerve flooded back.
"Is that a promise, my dear? No no, seriously, I want to help you guys out. I'm sending my whereabouts by E-mail. I think I'm pretty near you guys. I'll meet you at 9 sharp, alright? I've got a sweet little number for you and your boys. Woolongs galore. So I'll meet you at..."
I listened closer. She had hung up on me. What a shrew, man. My kind of girl. I hung up the phone, an old rotary piece of shit and picked up my guitar case. I began to smirk as I fit my shades on. "Yeah...this is gonna be fun," I whispered out loud. "Wish me luck, Lou. It's Sunday morning, after all." Somewhere, up in the mighty heavens, Lou Reed probably smirked also. This fucking kid was about to get himself in a whole lot of trouble.
Chapter 1: Sunday Morning
Sunday morning, brings the dawn in
It's just a restless feeling,, by my side
Watch out, the world's behind you
The Bebop. What's all the fuss about? Big Shot never shuts up about it. Every loser on the street can't stop talking about this supposedly kick ass ship and it's savage bounty huntering crew. What a bunch of crap. A 9 foot tall jazzer with big green hair, a cyborg ex-cop, the hottest temptress in the universe, and some hacker outlaw from Earth? Sounds like the circus sideshow to me. Bounty hunters truly are the scum of the universe.
Eh, nevermind. That would be me (the scum of the universe.) I'm Simon. To be honest these guys are sort of like my heroes. All I ever hear is about how they are so skilled and have so many connections, They chase down some of the most choice bounties in the Solar System, only to completely fuck it up in the end and come home poor every time. It's hilarious. I've always wanted to be a failure that people talk about...I mean, I'd imagine it's pretty tough to be as much of a failure as I am, but it's gonna be nearly impossible to fail so hard and so often that you become popular. Popular, at least in the underground. Everyone hopes that the Bebop crew will come for them, cause it'll just end up being a lot of laughs and an inevitable triumph. I hope they come for me.
Like I said the name is Simon. I have a friend named Orange who I call Orange because the collar around his white dress shirt is always Orange with sweat. I think his real name is Stewart. Anyway he's a computer smartypants and he owed me a few woolongs so I got him to contact the Bebop for me.
"Um, we received your E-mail," announced a gruff voice. This had to be the ex-cop. He's probably like 5 foot 3 and balding, and just uses the tough guy voice to compensate. Hilarious. "So what exactly do you know?"
I gulped slowly and glanced at this guy's name, written sloppily on a stray napkin. Another source had done some digging and come up with the name "Jet Black." The Bebop is such a fucking joke. In an even more gruff, more compensating tone I bellowed, "Don't worry about the small things, Mr. Black. All I know is that I'm the man with the inside info around here. I've got the bounties they're afraid to put on Big Shot. The real stuff. Millions of woolongs that you'll never see unless you talk to me, cowboy. So you wanna know more?"
I heard the aural equivalent of a shrug through my receiver. Not only of the shoulders, but of the whole body. But especially the stomach. Then I heard the phone seem to drop, only to be fumbled and picked up by another individual.
"You know what asshole, I might be a stunning work of art, a billion times hotter than anything in your pathetic dreams, but I haven't tasted a family size bag of Sour Cream and Onion Ruffles in like three fucking years. So I'm sick of this bullshit. If you've got some bounties for us, then fire away. But if you're just putting on mommy's heels and strutting around the block, then don't bother us. No, don't bother me."
"Nonsense, miss." So this was the temptress. "I've got some sweet stuff for your crew. Special for you. I like your style," I whimpered, beginning to lose my nerve. This really was the Bebop.
"If you're lying, I'm going to have your shriveling little nuts for brunch." Suddenly my nerve flooded back.
"Is that a promise, my dear? No no, seriously, I want to help you guys out. I'm sending my whereabouts by E-mail. I think I'm pretty near you guys. I'll meet you at 9 sharp, alright? I've got a sweet little number for you and your boys. Woolongs galore. So I'll meet you at..."
I listened closer. She had hung up on me. What a shrew, man. My kind of girl. I hung up the phone, an old rotary piece of shit and picked up my guitar case. I began to smirk as I fit my shades on. "Yeah...this is gonna be fun," I whispered out loud. "Wish me luck, Lou. It's Sunday morning, after all." Somewhere, up in the mighty heavens, Lou Reed probably smirked also. This fucking kid was about to get himself in a whole lot of trouble.
