Well, it is November 9th, and now I am presenting the fifth item I had ready to post. It's the seventh chapter of The Modern Day Casanova. I have one more item to post before the end of this weekend. For now, I want you all, who read this, to enjoy this chapter of this story, where our hero decides to explore this slightly safer street in Lost Wages.
Again, in due time, this fic will get an updated look to it. I just need to figure out how it will look.
|General LSL Disclaimer|
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Leisure Suit Larry, or any of the characters from the franchise. I do not fully know how everyone relates to one another, and this work is complete fiction. I am not making any profit on this publication, and do this mainly out of a love for the games. Also, the fourth wall will get demolished, and it's repair cost will be all on you.
The Modern Day Casanova
|First Chapter||Let's Meet The Man|
|Chapter 2||Lost Wages|
|Chapter 3||Newbie at the Bar Scene|
|Chapter 4||Bathrooms and Back Rooms|
|Chapter 5||The Realm of Typhoid Va-Jay-Jay|
|Previous Chapter||The American Institution|
Chapter 7: The Slightly Safer Street of Lost Wages
Like any major tourist trap city, the streets where the big draws are usually patrolled by police, and only the expert pickpockets do their business in them. The riskier streets tend to be the ones that lack major business locations, and major patronage. This usually means that if someone is going to look for easy cash, they tend to hang out near places like The All American C-Store.
It is for that reason that when Larry Laffer left the store, one of the local vagrants crossed the street, emerging from the back alley. Having been surviving on the streets for a while, he could tell when someone might not survive the streets, as well as the more sophisticated criminals that lurked in the city. Larry reeked of the very things those individuals preyed upon. (In layman's terms, Larry was clueless, gullible, and a perfect model of a loserd.)
It should also be noted that this vagrant had been former Sergeant Noah Boozlofski, the youngest and, until he went inexplicably AWOL, only sober member of the ill fated wine baron family. The story is that the family drank up all its product, and subsequently died of alcohol poisoning, this ending the empire, when he disappeared on leave. The truth of the matter was that he, while on leave, and having forgot his ID in the motel he was staying in (which was in turn stolen, and then used by, a nefarious family of identity thieves), ended up a victim of a ring running a marriage con. Since then, he made sure that he would help others avoid his fate.
It should also be noted that the Boozlofski's have a knack for smelling wine of any sort from up to a mile away, and could tell a quality product by any manufacturer with one sniff. Hense, he knew Larry was carrying the finest of that particular wine in a box.
Larry, in his own nature, was not one to give a bum the bum's rush (mainly since he had experienced it all too often) and waited for the bum to approach and speak. He listened very carefully as the bum asked, "Hey buddy. Think you could ssshpare a little sssshomething for a guy down on hisssh luck?"
Larry, being a decent person, checked his wallet first, but decided against giving part of his dwindling supply of cash. Since all his credit cards were expired, he couldn't get cash from them. He could, however, solve a problem he had gotten himself in. He pulled out the box of wine, and said, "Sorry that I can't spare any cash at the moment, but maybe this can help you in some way."
It is said that light is the fastest thing in the universe. They are wrong. The fastest thing in the universe is a Boozlofski going for a drink. Moving at a speed that would make a Weeping Angel go "What the..?" , the bum had snatched the box of wine out of Larry's hands, and downed it in one gulp (breaking the World's Record for downing a box of wine). He finished by smacking his lips in the international way that says "Damn, that was a good drink. Got another?"
As Larry shook his head, Noah reached into his overcoat (standard garb for most bums and flashers) and pulled out one of his many pocket knives. He had gathered a collection of them ever since his unfortunate incident in Lost Wages some time ago, and would pass one on to anyone who might need it. In all honesty, Larry looked like one of those people to him (you know, completely clueless, and not in the Alicia Silverstone way). He handed the knife to Larry, saying, “Here‘ssh my trussshty ol‘ pocket knife. Ya never know! There are sssshome kinky girlssh in this town. Sssshexy hunkssh like ussh might have to defend ours shelves sometime.” (This statement was also proof that the beer goggle effect isn‘t just limited to beer, but all alcoholic drinks.)
Before he could thank the bum, Larry saw the man walk away, obviously no worse for the amount of alcohol that he just downed. (It would have knocked out a normal person in seconds) Figuring that was the end of that encounter, to which Larry’s nose was grateful, he decided to check out the rest of that block. He even judged, to a bit of accuracy, the limit of how far he could walk down the street.
He stopped for a moment when he reached the pay phone. During that moment, he did what comes naturally to anyone who sees this device (at least natural before the era of the cellular phone. Those people just gawk at it, wondering what the hell it is). He first shoved his finger in the coin return slot, hoping for a left over coin. Then he pushed the coin return switch, again hoping for a free coin. When both of these action yielded nothing, Larry fished in his pockets for coins.
You see, Larry had very few friends (by friends, I mean people who were obliged to talk to him because of some sort of means that they have to interact with him), and so he decided to call one of them. He had to check his wallet, and the only thing he had was the hint line for the one game company he had invested some money in. This led him to calling, and talking to one Miss Roberta V.
I must digress for a moment, since the contents of that call are only known by the parties involved in the call. To go by Larry‘s account, when he told Miss V about being in Lost Wages, she voiced her concern for him, and said if he got out of there safely, she would be the best thing that ever happened to him. After tracking down Miss V, and I had found her at a special watering hole that serves the rare yet dangerous drinks known as Grog, and Dragon‘s Breath, she recalled the call with a rolling of her eyes, and stated that when she recognized the loserd‘s voice, once he stated he wasn‘t playing a game, she hung up on him. I give more credibility to her account.
After this, Larry noticed a phone number on the one side of the pay phone. There are usually many reasons for one of these numbers. If it was one on a slip of paper, it is usually one for someone needing help with something, like a lost dog, or need a roommate for an apartment. If there is a name with it, and it is just written or carved into the side, it is usually a notification that person is of loose moral fiber (and a possible card carrying member of the Seamstress Guild in Ahnk-Morpork). If it is just up there, with no paper, and no name, then it is for some other dubious reason, and only clueless compulsive people will dial it. (Just for note, there is no way it is the number for Jenny. While he was unaware of it, Tommy Tutone didn’t realize he had given out the number for Jenny Bigg, daughter of Julius Bigg. He doesn’t dare go to Lost Wages as there is a contract out on him there.)
Being the clueless person Larry was, he dialed the number. After a few rings, he was greeted by the loveliest of voices. It was the kind of voice that was pretty much capable of stopping blood flow to the brain, and redirecting it to another part of the body. There are usually two jobs linked to that kind of voice on a phone. The one is usually associated with those nine hundred numbers, and usually cost you a couple dollars a minute, (and can run up a cell phone bill to double of what it is for a month in a day’s time. I learned this one thanks to someone who had been on my cell phone plan.), and those who might be running certain types of surveys. This call ended up being the latter type, and asked Larry a series of questions that I’m not about to bore you with. Besides, your answers will probably differ from Larry’s (and that is mainly because you probably had more experience than he had, unless you are one of those underage readers who shouldn’t have even reached this far because they have heeded my warning long ago and if they are still reading this, YES, PARENT OR GUARDIAN. I DID TELL THEM NOT TO GET THIS FAR, BUT THEY AREN’T LISTENING TO ME!!!)
Anyhow, Larry answered every question the lady asked. After he was done, the lady mentioned about a special prize but the call was disconnected. This was actually planned, and Larry momentarily held on to the phone, not realizing the woman had hung up on him. After a moment, he hung up the phone, sighed, and then walked away. The lady, however, was actually watching from a window across the street. She actually placed the number on the pay phone, and watched for when a guy called it. At the time, she was getting her script together, which was literally an adult mad lib.
Larry, during this time, had made his way up the block to where a very burly man was standing guard by a door. A quick glance over the door, however, told Larry that he had found one of the most sacred places in the world: A Discotheque. It was one of the places where disco music, the ultimate form of music (in Larry’s mind) was played, and people danced to it. Larry knew that by law (again, in his mind), he should be allowed entry by attire alone.
As Larry made his way to the entrance, the man guarding it kept one eye on Larry. This man is your typical bouncer, a man that only regulars, and his employers learn the names of. In fact, he is more in the lines of hired muscle, with the mental capacity to know to ask for proof of membership, and to keep those without membership out. He also has enough brain power to know who automatically gets in, like anyone related to Mr. Julius Bigg. It is why he held up a hand as Larry approached, and said, “Where’s ya membership card?”
Larry, being who he was, realized that he was no match, physically, for this guy, so he tried fast talking, which also wasn’t a strong point for Larry at this point in his life. “What do you mean by that? Look at how I’m dressed. I belong in there.” This argument, in the history of people trying to get into a club, has, to my knowledge, never worked. This is usually because the bouncers have enough brains, and fear of their bosses, to not fall for that trick.
Larry was extremely lucky, since this particular bouncer did take a little money on the side from one regular at the Discotheque. If it wasn’t for that, the bouncer’s primary action would be to use a slight amount of force to remove the person trying to get in. This would have meant severe injury; especially for Larry. Thankfully, the bouncer offered some good advice. “It’s members only, but sometimes ladies get tickets to invite a guest in.”
Larry nodded, and then stepped away from the bouncer. Hearing what the man had said meant that ladies were in the club, but to get in, he needed to find a lady. He was in a true Catch-22. He also had to get back to Lefty’s, since he wasn’t sure if the hooker was keeping tract of time, not that he paid for any. He weighed his options for a moment, and then decided what was the best course of action. He walked to the curb, and whistled for another taxi. It was time to tempt fate, as well as the most fickle lady in the world.
|Next Chapter||The First Conquest|
|Chapter 9||Larry's Luck|
|Library Page||RichGenX's Library - The Modern Day Casanova|
Current Cost of Fourth Walls Shattered: $100000 (I think a law about this might get passed soon.)
|(If there are any concerns, please contact me, and please be polite)|