Cirrsseeto Quez
Feb 3rd, 2004, 09:47:25 PM
"Get a job."
The words rang in Cirrsseeto's vacuous head like a death sentence. He couldn't understand why Saa wanted him to find employment. Cizerack males traditionally looked after the homefront while the females worked. Then again, Saa didn't have the heart to tell him that money was tight. At first, he'd thought of it all as an adventure. But this job thing was harder than he thought!
1. The waiter job was a dismal failure. Not only could Cirr not read the menus, but should any of his customers successfully order, their entree likely never made it to the table. Cirr's stomach couldn't abide living off tip money. So that one was out.
2. Being a tour guide at the Stratoland theme park was equally disastrous. Without any real sense of direction, Cirr relied on his guests to do all the guiding. He didn't last two hours.
3. <strike>Cab driver</strike>. In discerning between brake and accelerate, Cirr claimed the lives of a half dozen lamp posts and one mailbox.
4. <strike>Restroom attendant</strike>. In a job beneath the mentally handicapped, Cirr wandered into the ladies room a few times too much for discretion's sake. Fired.
Near desperation, Cirr finally found work at a spaceport's loading dock. Under the employ of an unscrupulous man who was too tightfisted to pay for droid load-bearers, and thought paying illiterate Cizerack males below minimum wages was a stroke of business genius. Naturally, Cirr was none the wiser, and couldn't be happier.
There was nothing complex about picking up heavy things and moving them. You stacked heavy stuff on the bottom, light stuff on the top. This was apparrent, even to Cirr, who wasn't above having his right and left shoes feature color-coded differentiation. Heave-ho, heave-ho. Nobody on the entire dock could touch him. He worked circles around the other workers, and did it happily. No longer was he "idiot", "moron", or "chowderheaded Felix". He was Cirrsseeto, Master of the Loading Dock!
That was, until Tuesday. That day, Cirr arrived to work, same as the other days, carrying a sack lunch and singing some native tune absent-mindedly. Of course today, he had a slightly different job.
"Hey, uh, Cirr..." Boss looked a little nervous & pale. Cirr stopped what he was doing and turned towards him fully.
"jYesss?" he offered, ears turning forward attentively.
The boss looked sidelong, to a man in a dark coat and a wide-brimmed fedora. "Uhhh...I'd like you to meet a....friend....of mine. This is Mr. Jol."
The dark man didn't say a word, but it didn't stop Cirr.
"Hello!"
The boss winced, as if worried that Cirrsseeto might cause some disaster by speaking alone. "Uhh...right. Now, Cirr, Mr. Jol is a special business partner of mine, and he has a very important job for you."
To emphasize, the boss drew out his words, as if worried that the basic would be lost in translation to moron. "VERRRY....IMPOOORRRTANT."
Cirr nodded vapidly in the affirmative, with a "this sounds great but I have no idea what you mean" smile on his face.
Mr. Jol stepped forward, his voice nasally, monotonous, and ominous, like some terribly cliched Orson Welles monologue.
<font size=-2>"I need you to watch over some special cargo, Cirrsseeto, the contents of which are mysterious and powerful, and the mystery of which is exceeded only by its power, you must do everything in your power to make sure that this cargo is safe, if you do you will be handsomely rewarded, if you do not, you will know suffering the likes of which you have never seen, I trust you will make the right decison Cirrsseeto, otherwise tomorrow shall be the winter of my discontent."</font>
After several long seconds of silence from Cirr, the boss chimed in.
"He...uh...agrees to everything you say, Mr. Jol."
Not seeing any reason to disagree, Cirr nodded, knowing only that he was supposed to keep an eye on some...thing. After being hurriedly led to a large black crate resting on pallet, Cirr was left to himself, both the bossman and the mysterious Mr. Jol disappearing into the maze of assorted cargo containers.
With a sigh, Cirr sat back on the pallet, looking at the black crate with clueless curiosity. Whatever it was, it must be really important to get such a great guy like himself to guard it.
The words rang in Cirrsseeto's vacuous head like a death sentence. He couldn't understand why Saa wanted him to find employment. Cizerack males traditionally looked after the homefront while the females worked. Then again, Saa didn't have the heart to tell him that money was tight. At first, he'd thought of it all as an adventure. But this job thing was harder than he thought!
1. The waiter job was a dismal failure. Not only could Cirr not read the menus, but should any of his customers successfully order, their entree likely never made it to the table. Cirr's stomach couldn't abide living off tip money. So that one was out.
2. Being a tour guide at the Stratoland theme park was equally disastrous. Without any real sense of direction, Cirr relied on his guests to do all the guiding. He didn't last two hours.
3. <strike>Cab driver</strike>. In discerning between brake and accelerate, Cirr claimed the lives of a half dozen lamp posts and one mailbox.
4. <strike>Restroom attendant</strike>. In a job beneath the mentally handicapped, Cirr wandered into the ladies room a few times too much for discretion's sake. Fired.
Near desperation, Cirr finally found work at a spaceport's loading dock. Under the employ of an unscrupulous man who was too tightfisted to pay for droid load-bearers, and thought paying illiterate Cizerack males below minimum wages was a stroke of business genius. Naturally, Cirr was none the wiser, and couldn't be happier.
There was nothing complex about picking up heavy things and moving them. You stacked heavy stuff on the bottom, light stuff on the top. This was apparrent, even to Cirr, who wasn't above having his right and left shoes feature color-coded differentiation. Heave-ho, heave-ho. Nobody on the entire dock could touch him. He worked circles around the other workers, and did it happily. No longer was he "idiot", "moron", or "chowderheaded Felix". He was Cirrsseeto, Master of the Loading Dock!
That was, until Tuesday. That day, Cirr arrived to work, same as the other days, carrying a sack lunch and singing some native tune absent-mindedly. Of course today, he had a slightly different job.
"Hey, uh, Cirr..." Boss looked a little nervous & pale. Cirr stopped what he was doing and turned towards him fully.
"jYesss?" he offered, ears turning forward attentively.
The boss looked sidelong, to a man in a dark coat and a wide-brimmed fedora. "Uhhh...I'd like you to meet a....friend....of mine. This is Mr. Jol."
The dark man didn't say a word, but it didn't stop Cirr.
"Hello!"
The boss winced, as if worried that Cirrsseeto might cause some disaster by speaking alone. "Uhh...right. Now, Cirr, Mr. Jol is a special business partner of mine, and he has a very important job for you."
To emphasize, the boss drew out his words, as if worried that the basic would be lost in translation to moron. "VERRRY....IMPOOORRRTANT."
Cirr nodded vapidly in the affirmative, with a "this sounds great but I have no idea what you mean" smile on his face.
Mr. Jol stepped forward, his voice nasally, monotonous, and ominous, like some terribly cliched Orson Welles monologue.
<font size=-2>"I need you to watch over some special cargo, Cirrsseeto, the contents of which are mysterious and powerful, and the mystery of which is exceeded only by its power, you must do everything in your power to make sure that this cargo is safe, if you do you will be handsomely rewarded, if you do not, you will know suffering the likes of which you have never seen, I trust you will make the right decison Cirrsseeto, otherwise tomorrow shall be the winter of my discontent."</font>
After several long seconds of silence from Cirr, the boss chimed in.
"He...uh...agrees to everything you say, Mr. Jol."
Not seeing any reason to disagree, Cirr nodded, knowing only that he was supposed to keep an eye on some...thing. After being hurriedly led to a large black crate resting on pallet, Cirr was left to himself, both the bossman and the mysterious Mr. Jol disappearing into the maze of assorted cargo containers.
With a sigh, Cirr sat back on the pallet, looking at the black crate with clueless curiosity. Whatever it was, it must be really important to get such a great guy like himself to guard it.