Alright, back again.
Nothing important to report at this time.
My Level 134 pure Trojan in Conquer Online got hacked so I had to make a new character, and we got a truckload of snow here in northern Indiana.
The song intro was originally done by John Lennon, but i have the link as Ozzy Osbourne's because i like his version more.
Pretty much it, so let's get going.
Chapter 11: Working Class Hero
"As soon as you're born they make you feel small
by giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A Working Class Hero is something to be
A Working Class Hero is something to be
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and despise a fool
Till you're so f*****g crazy you can't follow their rules
A Working Class Hero is something to be
A Working Class Hero is something to be"
- John Lennon
[][][]
He was confused by what he was looking at.
The screen didn't lie and he knew everything he'd done.
New head gaskets on a billet aluminum block so light he could carry the entire engine, which is how he put it in the car. New rings on a set of expensive forged pistons, new performance crank, new performance bearings on forged rods, professional port and polish, stage five camshafts out of a sprinter car, aftermarket cam gears, new timing belt, new crossfire spark plugs, performance intake, performance injectors, everything.
What should be a twelve thousand dollar engine, is a turbo-charged heap of scrap.
Martin sighed and leaned back in the chair to stretch.
"You know they're trashing everything, right?"
Not bothering to look away from the screen, he shrugged, "That's usually what happens at a party."
Sarah walked in further and looked at the progress he'd made since she first seen it.
The paint that was originally there was gone, a grey primer having took it's place. The rust was replaced with new metal, the windows were missing, the interior was gutted to make room for the large pipes that were welded throughout the inside, and the tires were gone, the car being held up by a hydraulic lift.
"Well, it looks like a car."
"It looks like a duck, feels like a duck, acts like a duck," he said as he checked the wires running from the computer to the front of the car, "So why isn't it quacking?"
The wires looked fine, so he checked his inputs to the program that ran the cars controls.
"What about the… belt, thingy?"
He shook his head, "I checked the timing three times, filled it with oil, primed the fuel pump, checked the ignition, but still. Nothing."
He tapped the spacebar and the engine began cranking. Still not starting, he hit the button again and it stopped.
"Everything on this screen says the engine should run, but for some reason it won't."
Leaning forward to get a better look at the engine, she shrugged, "Maybe it's sad."
If he wasn't so frustrated, he would have burst out in a fit of laughter. Instead he only scoffed.
"Well," she began, feeling the need to explain herself, "It was in a junkyard-"
"Salvage yard."
"Whatever. It was left to die with thousands of other cars and now it's here. It doesn't know what's going on."
"It's a car, Sarah," he said, colder than he wanted to sound, "It doesn't have feelings. It's an expensive puzzle that isn't following the rules."
"Don't listen to him," she said, patting on the roof, "He just doesn't believe."
He turned off the laptop and began unplugging everything, deciding he'd done enough for the night.
She waved as she left the garage, "I'm going back to the party. You might consider doing the same, while you still have an apartment."
Opening the driver door, he tossed the laptop on the passenger floorboard and began to close it. Stopping, however, he looked outside and made sure no one was looking before he sat on the floor behind the wheel.
He ran his hands over the steering wheel before he put his hand on the ignition, hesitating before deciding the give it one more try.
Pushing the clutch, he turned the key. The engine cranked over loudly before it sputtered to a start, idling loudly due to the lack of exhaust.
His mouth opened slightly, and he turned the key to the off position. One more time, he turned it back to on and it willingly obeyed.
Letting it idle for several moments, he turned it off and removed the key.
He sat for nearly a minute, staring through the windshield before nodding, "Something's wrong with my computer. That's all."
[][][]
Mordecai yawned as he listened to the to the chugging of the engine in the cool of the morning. The passenger door opened and the seat slid forward as Farrah leading two of her friends began to file into the back seat.
"Hey, Mordy!"
"How's it going?" he asked as he glanced into the mirror, really not caring.
"Oh, you know. The usual, I guess."
He nodded, "That's good."
The seat slid back and Caroline pulled the door closed, "Thanks for inviting me."
"No problem. Now Mordy won't get bored following us around all day," Farrah said as she buckled her seat belt.
Mordecai rolled his eyes and shifted into drive.
"Oh, here's your CD," she said as she slid the original back into the radio and set the extra in the glove box, "That was quite a challenge."
He checked his mirror as they turned onto the main road out of town, "Why's that?"
"It had some kind of weird program on it. It opened my word processor and a document with a bunch of numbers and strange words showed up."
"That's weird," he said, turning up the radio to hear it over the conversation in the back, "Maybe he'd saved a note on it or something."
"I don't know," she said, tapping on the screen of her phone.
Seeing an empty highway in the mirror, he didn't need to accelerate much to merge on. But he did anyway.
The speedometer started to climb and the engine slowly became louder. The sound of the revving engine and music from the radio began to mix together, growing in volume until it became quiet. Nothing but the feeling of the tires rolling along the highway.
The events of the past few months seemed to replay through his mind, starting with the time he first seen the Black Tear. It was in it's resting place behind Skips', still covered, but obscured by the low light from the trees surrounding the back of the house.
He'd only went back there to grab the spare lawnmower, but something pulled him to look at it.
And it wasn't even that hard to get it running again. If him and Skips did it, why didn't Benson? Surely it must have been harder to talk Mr. Maellard into buying a new truck.
"It's not for me to tell you. Just promise me you'll be careful when we get it running."
Skips' words reached him in his loud cocoon of silence, bringing him to wonder what really happened. Did Benson really wreck it in a race? Or was it something worse?
"Hey, yo!"
He blinked and snapped back into reality, "What?"
"Think you need some lighter shoes, bro."
He looked down at the speedometer and almost choked, his breath leaving him. One-hundred and twenty seven miles an hour.
Easing onto the brakes, he wiped the sweat from his forehead, taking deep breaths to steady himself.
"Hey," Caroline asked quietly to avoid worrying his sister, "You alright? Not having a panic attack or anything?"
He shook his head, thankful his voice wasn't shaky, and set the cruise control when he reached the speed limit, "No, just not used to being up this early, I guess."
She watched him for a moment before returning to looking through the windshield, "I don't buy it."
"Why's that?"
"For starters, you'd said yesterday that you're always up this early for work."
"Oh yeah," he said, wishing he'd put more thought into the lie, "Must not have had enough sleep then."
"Video games?" she asked, certain that was the reason.
"Something like that."
[][][]
"Alright," Benson said, flipping through the pages of his clipboard, "We've got a lot of work to do today. Muscle Man, you and Fives are gonna take over Mordecai's shift today and run the snack stand."
"Oh yeah!" Muscle Man said while he and Fives slapped hands at the bottom of the stairs.
Benson sighed to himself and continued reading, "Skips, take the truck and get the tables out of storage. Make sure none of them are broke and get them cleaned for the picnic."
Skips nodded, "No problem."
"Thomas, the letters on the sign at the entrance are starting to fade," he said, nodding to where several cans of paint were already brought out of the garage, "After you finish the main sign, check the rest and give them a touch up if they need it."
"Sure."
"Rigby," Benson said as he checked the clipboard, pausing when the sound of snoring was interrupted by a loud smack.
Sighing out loud, he repeated, "Rigby, you got lawn duty. Get the mower from the garage and start cutting."
"What?!" he yelled, his volume exceptionally loud for just being woken up, "Why do I get lawn duty?!"
"Because, the riding mower's broke and it's the only way I can think of to keep you from sleeping on the job."
"Maybe if my name was Mordecai I'd get the easy work," he mumbled, crossing his arms and staring at the ground.
"What was that?"
"I said," he began in a calm voice, progressing into full blown shouting, "Maybe if my name was Mordecai I'd get to do whatever I want!"
"That's it!" Muscle Man shouted, moving to lunge up the stairs.
Skips caught him in mid flight, almost wishing he'd have missed and let the fight begin.
"Everyone calm down!" Thomas shouted, looking to where people were already beginning to walk into the park.
"Both of you, in the house."
Skips waited until Rigby was already inside to let Muscle Man go, who mumbled and started up the stairs.
"Thomas, you get started. Skips, help Fives open the stand. You can leave when Muscle Man gets there."
He nodded, "Alright."
[][][]
"Call me whenever you're ready to go," Mordecai said as the group began to walk away, "And if mom calls, don't tell her I let you go alone."
"Sure thing, Mordy," Farrah yelled as they started down one of the corridors.
"So, Mordy," Caroline said, "Where to first?"
"Wherever," he said, seeing no embarrassing stores nearby.
Looking around, she started toward the Radio Barn.
"Place still looks like it did three years ago," he said as he looked over the shelves.
The only thing that was different was the merchandise, making him notice how advanced things had been since he left.
"Yeah, that's the good thing about this place."
Mordecai stopped and picked a guitar up from the display.
"Do you play?"
He ran his hands down the out of tune stings and shook his head, "Not really. I was learning for a day or two but quit."
"You should keep it up. Chicks dig musicians."
He sighed and returned it to the display, "Yeah."
"So, tell me more about this wonderland you live in."
He laughed, "What do you wanna know about that for?"
She picked a game and shrugged, "Considering a change of scenery."
"You want to move to the city?"
"Maybe. I've got a few places in mind. Never hurts to add another to the list."
"Well," he began, looking over the radios, "It's just like any other place."
"Nothing interesting?"
He paused for a moment, "Well, that depends on what you consider interesting. If chasing groups of turkeys, or being hunted by half man, half deer creatures is interesting, I guess it's quite the place."
"Sounds boring," she said as she set the game back on the rack.
"Why would you want to move, anyway?" he said, moving to the car speakers.
She sighed, "It's getting boring by the sea. Unless you want to work in the mill like your dad, there's nothing worth sticking around for. Consider yourself lucky you got out when you did."
"Me lucky?" he said with a scoff.
"Whatever's going on in that park where you live," she said, joining him by the speakers, "It's working."
Mordecai gave her the 'I don't get it,' look.
"You're completely different than you were when you left. You used to be the immature, party until you can't see straight kid who never knew when to quit," she said, almost not believing what she was about to say, "Now, in the three years you were away you came back a serious, hard working man. It's a pretty big change."
"No, I'm still a child. You make it sound like I'm an hero, or something. I'm a single, minimum wage laborer working in a park that I live at with a backstabbing, lazy, and inconsiderate roommate," he said in disagreement.
She shrugged and moved past him, "Small steps to conquer the world. You are a hero, a working class hero. It's people like you who keep the world going."
"Do you think twenty-three is too young for a midlife crisis?"
"Okay," she said, clapping her hands together and taking a deep breath, "Let's get rid of this depressing attitude. How much money you have?"
"…Why?"
"You need to learn to enjoy life! Starting with the small things."
He followed her to the stand where the phones were set up, already knowing his wallet wasn't going to like this.
"Number one, buy a new phone."
Pulling his old phone from his pocket, he looked at the huge difference between it and the new ones.
"Aww, come on. This little guy hasn't let me down."
"Keep it as a backup," she said, picking one from the display and handing it to him, "Look at what this one can do."
He tapped on the screen and scrolled through the menu, looking at the various apps the phone came with. Music player, video player, games, internet, radio, all things that his current one couldn't even comprehend.
"Well, it is pretty cool."
Thinking back to what his money originally for, he decided it'd be better to have fun with it now that he wouldn't be impressing Margaret anymore.
"You know, I think my truck could use some speakers and a radio, too."
[][][]
Benson slammed the door and walked into the living room where Rigby and Muscle Man were staring daggers at each other.
"Okay, whatever problem we have, we're settling it now."
"The problem is you giving me the ridiculous work while you give your favorite employee, Mordecai the easy stuff. Today would have been the third time this month he worked the snack stand which is the easiest job around here!"
"Do not misconstrue respect as favoritism. I give Mordecai the 'easy' work because I respect the difference between how he works now and before. He was just like you. Lazy, incompetent, and untrustworthy."
Benson shook his head, "He worked hard and showed me that I can trust him to do the important work without having to constantly watch him. You reap what you sow."
"You're gonna tell me this has nothing to do with me dating his crush?"
Muscle Man took a deep breath to keep from tackling him to the ground.
"I'm glad you're here, Muscle Man. I haven't told you what I did the others," Benson said, keeping his anger from getting the best of him, "I wanted to fire you for the past eight months. I've written plenty of reports to Mr. Maellard, but every time I was ready to send them, Mordecai stopped me. Every time, I believed him and ripped them up.
"When I heard about you and whatever her name is, I was glad. Glad that maybe now Mordecai wouldn't stop me. I had the same report written out, but again, he stopped me."
Muscle Man looked toward Benson, confused about whether what he was saying was true or not.
"I was angry, yelling all the reasons to, and you don't know how badly I wanted to send that letter. Still, he said don't worry about it. Even in his state, he stood up for you. You can say he didn't have any ownership over her, but he did. She has some amount of blame in this, but you as a friend should have known that."
Rigby didn't know how to feel, silence the only thing coming to mind.
"I've had this talk with everyone," he said, turning to Muscle Man, "Keep things civil. Don't make the park look bad by fighting on the job. Shake hands, and leave your issues here."
Muscle Man seemed to think about his options, but he ultimately nodded and stuck his hand out, "Whatever you say."
Rigby looked at it for a moment, expecting a trap. Though he was hesitant, he shook the hand that was offered to him, surprised by the relaxed, non-threatening grip.
"Good. Now get to work."
Muscle Man was the first to leave, Rigby waiting a few moments before doing so.
"Well, that was certainly a heated discussion," Pops said, waiting until the door closed to walk into the room.
Benson sighed, "Do you think any of it got through to him?"
Pops shrugged, "There's only one way to know for sure, and that's to let time figure it out."
"I think we're running out of time," Benson said, starting toward the door, "I don't know how much longer I can run damage control and keep everything together."
"The best thing to do," Pops said, causing Benson to hesitate, "Is to keep your mind on something else. Don't we still need to plan the picnic?"
Benson nodded, "You're right. We still need to figure out the entertainment and get everything together."
"Well, there you have it. You plan that picnic, and make it the best one there is!"
Benson opened the door, "Thanks, Pops. That'll keep me occupied.
Well, it became a little more serious than I wanted it to, but I think it's for the best. The lines are becoming more divided, and everything seems to be coming undone.
Since this was a serious one, I'll go back to what I said awhile back and make the next one more of a comedy.
Thanks for reading, even with the long time between updates.