Lord of the Drink: Return of the Memories

Who: Micky
Where: ?
When: Starting to forget...
<snip>
Not giving Micky a chance, he took control of the nervous system wired into the
arm he was currently in control of. Micky tried to react, but Holly was too
quick. By the time Micky knew what was happening, he was just an electrical
impulse at the back of his own mind.
"HOLLY!" He screamed (metaphorically) from the back of his own mind. "What the
hell are you doing?!"
"I need to do this, Micky, I'm sorry" Echoed Hollys voice from all around Micky
in the black void of his mind he had just been evicted to.
</snip>
"Holly! Where the hell am I you thieving bastard?!" There was no response. Micky looked around. He couldn't see anything. Not even when he lifted his hand up to his face. "Holly?" Micky wanted to panic. He couldn't feel his arm or legs or face or...
He tried poking himself in the eye and felt nothing. Did he have eyes? He couldn't feel any ground beneath him. Was his mind really this empty. He knew he had repressed memories, but a complete lack of anything in his imagination was just silly. He (metaphorically, again) scrunched his eyes shut tight and tried to imagine himself sitting at a bar, on top of a stool. He imagined it so hard he could almost smell the stale, sweaty air. Taste the drink he had been drinking that was now in his hand. He could feel the cold condensation on the glass as he lifted the pint to his mouth and tasted it again.
"Ahhhhh!" Micky let out a sigh as he cherished the taste of the beautiful ale slipping down his throat. Looking up he realised his eyes were no longer squashed tight shut. They weren't even shut. "I have eyes!" He shouted. The barmaid, a tall, pretty, large breasted young woman (the perfect barmaid in Mickys eyes) turned to look at him with a look of concern.
"Y'arrright duck?" She asked with a Lancashire accent.
"You're from Blackburn Two too?!" He asked in awe. He couldn't believe what was happening. Here he was, sat in a quiet bar enjoying a drink, being served by a barmaid from his home town! Why, just seconds ago he was... Micky thought hard... What was he doing. "How long have I been here?"
"Couple of 'our. You 'ad one too many chuck?" She asked, the look of concern not subsiding.
"That's right." Micky remembered. "I came in with Pete and Cap." He looked around and saw he was sat alone. "Where did they go?"
"Dunno love. Walked off a few minute ago. Want an uver?" She pointed at his now empty glass. Micky considered going to find Pirate Pete and the Captain. This all felt very familiar to him, like it had happened before.
"Why not!" He shot back with a big grin on his face. "And get one for yourself!"
Back in the consciousness Holly had taken over, Jay had secured himself back on the starbug and was now arguing with Efof over a scratch. Or something like that. Holly knew what he had done had been top priority. Saving the Captains life at any cost. But he feared he may have just ended another. He lost track of Micky when he kicked him out of his own consciousness, now he needed to bring him back. God only knows what can happen to a man locked inside his own head with nothing but his own memories for company...
"Arrrr! Micky me laaad!" Pirate Pete clamped his hand down on Mickys shoulder and gave it a playfull squeeze. Micky grinned, enjoying the feeling of being just a fourteen year old kid, accepted by the other crew as one of their own and drinking in a bar like he was just as old. "We got a job goin' down, an' we need to be movin' ye see. Drink up boy and get yerself back on board the ship!"
Micky tilted his head back and finished the rest of the glass of ale.
"Cheers darlin'!" He called to the maid at the other end of the bar as he flicked a small gold coin into the empty glass on the bar. Gold was hard to come by in this day and age, yet somehow, Micky had a pocket full. He couldn't remember how, but was sure it would come back as soon as his head cleared from all the ale. He walked out the bar with Pirate Pete propping him up and laughing, kicking off into a good old sing song like they did on board.
"What shall we do with the drunken spaceman?!...."
Holly, now searching through the memories of Micky could hear music. But it was awful music. No wait, there was no music, just what sounded like a drunken teenager ruining yet another great classic song. Holly followed the noise and ended up in a pub. He heard the door slam shut as he materialised at the bar where the barmaid was stood picking her nails.
"Excuse me ma'am, have you seen a guy called Micky in here?"
"Yes m'love, just walked out that door the-..." She stopped talking and her jaw dropped open as she looked up to see the giant balding head floating in front of her.
"Oh right, yeh..." Holly said remembering he probably didn't look very realistic. He concentrated hard to try and become something, anything, that would be slightly less scary than a floating head. "How's that?!" He said, not realising he was now a Labradore.
In what seemed like a bright flash of light, Micky was sat on the bunk of a bed. His bed. He looked around his small cramped room, quickly remembering why he hated the place. It took a moments thought, but not longer than two seconds passed before the the memory returned. "That's where I left um!" He said happily to himself as he reached over to his locker, pulled open the door and took out three tins of cheap lager. He tucked one into the pocket of the cargo pants he had on, cracked open another one, and prepared to crack open the next one as he downed it.
He didn't see the dog sat in the corner. 'micky' It was almost as if the dog 'micky' wasn't meant to be there. So he didn't see it. He didn't want to 'Micky' see it. 'MIcky' He didn't want to listen to it talking to 'MIcKy' him. It wasn't 'MICKy' meant to be there. 'MICKY'
"WHAT?!" Micky yelled at the corner of the room. It was empty. Pete stuck his head round the open doorway.
"What ye yellin' at boy?"
"Nothing." Micky finished his drink, feeling really strange about himself. He cracked open the next can and walked out his door toward the living area, taking a glance over his shoulder as he did.
Holly just found himself getting through to Micky when he realised something big was happening and went to find out the emergency. It was strange using eyes instead of video lenses.
"Oh no!" Holly said to himself. He thought he might have made Mickys body utter that as he set himself more into Mickys mind (Holly was starting to get comfy in here). He wasn't sure, all he was concerned about was getting Mickys body to safety.
He saw a bazookoid blast heading straight for him as he managed to regain control of his motor functions, throwing the poor guy nose first to the floor. There was a resounding crunch through Mickys head that made Holly wince.
"Sorry Micky," Holly said, "wherever you are".
Micky threw himself involuntarily to the floor of the small vessel so hard he hit his nose. The pain was staggering,blood flowing instantly from his nostrils.
"What in damn blazes are you doin' gettin blood all over mah floor?!" Cap yelled at him, standing in the doorway of the living area. "And why jump around like a god forsaken fool?! Can't you see we're in space?!"
Micky looked up at the captain from his position on the floor, the Texan accent all too familiar.
"I don't know what happened." He was still dazed, his eyes blurry from the tears welling up from the impact with the steel flooring. He couldn't quite remember the captains full name... For some reason he couldn't quite reach it in his memory. The tall, lanky guy stood over him, Leather jacket hung over his twin shooters, cowboy hat on head and smelling like the bottom of an empty beer barrell. The Labradore sat out of sight knew his name. He knew it far too well.
"Jedidiah Calvert...." Holly said to himself
<There you go people! Micky is safe from the gunfire you left him stood infront of! Please try a little harder to take care of his body while he cannot use it himself! Post TBC>