Bad Mojo: Read the Fine Print (Open)

[Hunter J. Smitik]

OOC: Before posting, please contatct PM me.

IC:

I awoke the the comm beeping, not fully aware where I was, or why I was where I was.

The bad days start like this. I immediately knew that things may very well be swirling clockwise.

My eyes slowly opened, wary of the bright light that may or may not be there. It was, mercifully, somewhat dim.

Clearly, things had gone awry last night, in that haze of mind altering substances. It was the only explanation as to why all the pillows, save the one my head was on, were taped to the ceiling. Safe to say, my publisher would not be happy at the room service bill.

The comm beeped again, and I nearly leapt clear of the bed.

Now get a hold of yourself. Remember, you're a professional.

"Who are you? How did you get this number?"

[Hunter J. Smitik]

Smooth. Smooth like fifty grit sandpaper.

"Its the front desk downstairs, Mr. Frossin."

"Theres no Fossin here!" I deftly slammed the comm down onto the nightstand, and took another look at my surroundings, opening the nightstand's various drawers. A decent sized blaster sat, blissfully ignorant of it's purpose in life.

Any day starting with a comm going off was a bad one.

Since I was now alert enough to walk on my feet without woble, I headed over to the 'fresher, and nudged the door open with my foot.

Jumpin' Jabba on a pogo stick!

Some sort of blueish goo half filled the sink, and the same gunk was caked to the sides of the sonic shower.

I was about to relieve myself when the comm went off again. Stomping out, I snatched the vile device from its unhappy home, and turned it on.

"What the frell do you want?"

"Mistaa Smitik?" Whoever it was had a horrid speech impediment that prevented them from speaking clear basic. But with all of the various weird things nature has nutured to intelligence in this galaxy, you can't hold it against them. He/she/it sounded Nemodian. I always thought the Empire had wiped those sneaky doubledealing bastards out.

"No, thats... Oh. Yes, how can I help you. I've had a very strange morning, so you'll have to excuse me."

[Dovi Jod]

Thaht ees...unfohrtunate, Mistaa Smitik. Perhahps yohr speerits wuuld eemprove with breakfahst?

Jod paused on the commline

I will bee waiting downstairs, Mistaa Smitik. I truhst yuu will bee down soon.

Jod deactivated the comm.

[Hunter J. Smitik]

"Well, I'd be more than happy to..." I looked at the comm. It was off.

"That bastard!"

I threw my clothes of and lept into the sonic shower for about a minute, and then lept out again.

Wide eyed, I rubbed my chin, wondering where my suitcase was. Playing a hunch, I looked under the bed, and, sure enough, a pair of suitcases were there.

Both were slick black plastic affairs, essentially identical to the other. The first had an array of bags, bottles and clear plastic containers.

Ooo. Blue methahalline rind extract. Carefully, I removed the bottle and set it on the nightstand before sealing the suitcase again. The next suitcase had my clothing. I picked loose fitting button down shirt, flat grey. Should be adaquite for the client, along with the khaki pants.

I started for the bottle.

"Shoes! I need shoes!"

With a whirl, I manged to gracefully fall over the shoes.

"Don't ever do that again, you frelling pieces of dren!" I said, strapping them on my feet. For a moment, I sat on that matress, staring, my mind grinding away, trying to figure out what I was supposed to do next. Slowly, my eyes drifted to the blue methahalline, and the pieces fit. My mind lept forward like a startled gundark.

Blue methahalline rind extract is marvelous stuff because it only affects the part of the brain responsible for visual proccessing, and ignores the speech and motor skills completely.

In order to take my potential employer seriously, I had to only take one drop. Doing this cold would have not worked. My mind always needs a sense altered. I needed to be alert, and the best way to do that was to have something constantly wrong with my surroundings.

One drop, down the hatch, and a step into this strange world.

[Dovi Jod]

Jod waited for several minutes, biding his time by drumming his fingers on the table he sat at. The Business World was punctual, and this Smitik was making a mockery of that preconception. Still, he had his uses, and Jod could appreciate him for it, despite Smitik's...ah...nefarious habits.

After another few minutes, Smitik made his way from the turbolift, and Jod stood, producing a polite smile.

Mistaa Smitik, I presuhme? Cohme, wee hahve much tuu talk ahbout.

[Hunter J. Smitik]

Indeed, I was confronted with a Nemodian. I was somewhat mentally prepared for such a thing. The drugs helped too: his face's wrinkles were smeared, and his eyes gooed together.

"Please, lead the way." I said, and watched his hat turn into a miffink. It might have tried to chitter, but with the drug affecting only my visual centers. Thank goodness. Miffink chittering is incredibly annoying.

A rancor ran down the the street in my peripherial vision, but the people just stood there. Nothing gets any sort of respect these days.

OOC: Bump.