New member!!! Jerome G James

Hello all, i'd like you to all give a warm welcome to Jerome James,
a new navigator. Be warned, by the looks of his character profile -
this guy liked to type! Its a little excessive but shows a lot of
effort!
welcome aboard Jerome!
Character Name: Jerome G. James
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Nationality: British
Department: navigation
Job Title: Duh!... Navigator
Player/NPC? active
Physical Appearance
Character's physical Appearance: Height: 5'11" Weight: 10 Stone
Hair: Brown Straight shoulder length Slightly receding hairline Thin
mustache and goatee Eyes: Pale Green Distinguishing Marks: Small
birthmark shaped like a bunch of Bananas on left forearm.
Personality and Interests
Jerry is cheerful, energetic, fun-loving and jovial. He is always
game for a new challenge or some friendly competition. Ever the good
sport. win or lose, Jerry takes it in stride. He has never been
known to disparage others, their accidents, mistakes or
circumstances. His preference being instead, to reserve his comments
until the situation has been fully analyzed. Once clued up to the
situation, If the dilemma is not beyond his capacity and if asked
(and occasionally even if not asked.), Jerry will provide advice or
constructive recommendations,. (Occasionally, if it is a topic that
is dear to him, he'll bang off a Lengthy palaver.). Jerry is quite
clever, as well as a fairly quick study. On rare occasions, when his
ego is bolstered by a series successful endeavors, or he is just
having the odd really, really, really, good day, Jerry will show a
bit of cheek and act the clever dick. This condition is, never
inimical and always short lived. Furthermore, if before is passes,
Jerry's caprice get up someones nose, a brief word in Jerry's ear
will quickly bring him back to reality. At which point, realizing
his folly, he will gladly leave off, taking a scundered grin with
him, whilst leaving behind a humble and sincere apology. He loves
and lives to exercise and utilize his noodle, delving
enthusiastically into any problems that present themselves spending
a lot of his free time on the prowl for stimulus. During Jerry's
military service, he became infamous/famous for using his wits and
sense of humour, to get into and subsequently (but much less
frequently.), out of sticky situations. Jerry is genuinely kind
hearted and compassionate. He is consistently both mindful and
respectful of the feelings of others. Some of the more negative of
Jerry's life experiences have tipped him slightly to the cynical
side. Despite this, his optimism and jocular nature still heavily
dominate his personality. One of Jerry's favourite pastimes is the
conception, design and successful execution of practical jokes. He
applies the same rules as above to these escapades. Jerry takes
great pains to prevent any physical harm and would not hesitate to
chuck a spanner in the works, at any stage of his plan, if something
were to go amiss. Jerry chooses his "Laughing Stock" as well as
his "Wind Up" with deliberate care and contemplation. He spends a
considerable amount of time swotting about and observing the
subject. Upon collecting a proper gen up, the data is thoroughly
reviewed and correlated, using a time tested and well honed "Irony
Chart" Jerry designed while in the service. The time and effort he
expends all but guarantees the rollick will not only be dead funny
but take the correct amount of piss out of the dupe as well. If all
goes accordingly, everyone around has a right good laugh, which,
depending upon their demeanor, frequently includes the jestee as
well. Lastly, Jerry thinks violence should be extremely rare,
preferring instead, that it didn't exist at all. He is sworn to use
force only as a last resort. (It is perhaps best not to ask him to
watch your back, unless your front is a pacifist.) Interests:
Drawing, Painting, Sculpting, Reading, Watching Vids, Eclectic
Variety of Musical Styles, Strategy, Role-Playing and VR Games, Zero-
Gravity Football, Zero-Gravity Rugby, Zero-Gravity Pool, Zero-
Gravity Cricket, Zero-Gravity Synchronized Swimming, Zero-Gravity
Chartered Accountancy, Zero-Gravity, and Duh!... Navigating!
History
Jerry was born. Jerry grew virtually un-noticed to manhood in the
tentative, bordering on surreal, care of his father, James G. James,
a mildly successful notary public and his mother, Jeromina G.
Jeramiah, a mildly successful wife and mother. in their two-up semi-
detached family home in Birmingham, which (this has yet to be
explained in an even remotely satisfactory fashion.) wound up in
Holyhead sometime around his reaching puberty. He had few friends
(Actually one if pressed for specifics.) until he reached his mid-
teens. For all of his primary education Jerry was a complete and
utter outcast, He was categorically shunned by every clique, cast,
club and child (excluding the fore mentioned friend.) that he
encountered. The classmates and peers that didn't utterly ignore him
(of which there were many more of then he would have wished.),
acknowledged Jerry at all, did so only to put down, send-up, lace
into and/or take the mickey out of him. Jerry escaped the cruel
realities of his early childhood by immersing himself in a myriad of
different activities that included: experimenting with various
mediums of art. Various and sundry lessons on various and sundry
musical instruments, Engaging in a relatively unknown and archaic
exercise known as reading books. He was an avid supporter of and
frequent spectator at the local sport associations. Unfortunately
Jerry was never able to participate owing to the fact that although
he was quite tall, he was even more frail and almost intangibly thin
as well. Furthermore and adding insult to injury Jerry had the
coordination of a sheverely pished jellyfish in an intermittently
malfunctioning anti-gravity chamber. He found assuagement and lost a
mint, through frequently engaging the sport simulators at the local
VR game room. Jerry spent countless hours watching and re-watching,
ancient holovids. Some from centuries ago and most of which
involving tales of fearless space adventurers, adventuring
fearlessly through space, their exploits, their further exploits and
the women (or close facsimiles thereof) that they loved. So...
although Jerry's relationship with his folks often felt more akin to
reluctantly run dry cleaning business, with him in the role of the
skid-marked skivvies, then that of a son, his social life was nowt -
10 and his school life was a pear shaped gazunder of dog's dinner.
Despite it all, Jerry managed not only to survive but maintain a
surprisingly sanguine perspective of the world. Jerry's familial
relations changed very little in his teens (An upgrade from skivvies
to badly soiled trousers.), but his years at school in in Holyhead
were, to his utter surprise, not unlike what he'd imagined those of
any other lad's to be. He made a few friends almost immediately and
acquired several more in the years that followed. He applied and was
admitted to: The Glee Club, Future Spacers of The Galaxy, the RPG
Society and a few others beside. Jerry even indulged a modest am
mount of social activity as well. Better still his last two years at
school he wrote regular articles for the school ISP, played a
virtual eletro-xylophone in a cyberska emsemble and even managed to
have a few girlfriends. This drastic but positive lifestyle shift
was due in no small part to the fact that Jerry had developed quite
a sense of humour, a penchant for telling funny stories and cracking
jokes as well. He felt good! Not so popular as to have to be mean
but not so unpopular that he had to hide. Some nights, Jerry would
lay in bed thinking about his life, the general consensus being he
liked it fine, and just when he thought it couldn't get much
better... He was right. Jerry stood with his class at the
commencement. His eyes scanned the crowd as he shifted nervously
from one foot to the other. He pondered to himself "Are they as
freaked out as I am?". Seconds later his name was being called and
the folks behind him gave him gentle shove as a leg up, the next
twenty minutes or so was a barmy blur of teeth, hugs, camera flashes
and hand gestures, that didn't subside. till he and his Parents were
diving home. Jerry's father quietly cleared his throat, cocked the
hind-view mirror until he could properly see Jerry and after a
moment said. "So... Jerome..." Hearing his name startled him a bit.
It was almost as if a stranger's voice were calling to him. Jerry
tried but failed to recall when it was exactly that his father had
last spoken to him. "Jere. Jere, Jere..." his father continued.
Jerry opened his mouth to reply but no thoughts were forthcoming
with which to fill it. "Jerry, Jerry, Jerry,,," After a moment,
Jerry managed to get it together and through a weakly presented half-
smile, project a quavering and squeaky reply "Yes dad?" James
cleared his throat again. "Jere, Jerry Jerome." he said not looking
into the mirror this time. "Just get on with it won't you." Jerry's
mother instructed. James cleared his throat again. "So...
Jerome...." He repeated. and after a moment "Jere, Jere, Jere!" "Yes
Dad?" Jerry said once again.but in a pitch and tone that was
markedly improved from the previous version. "Jere, Jerry Jerome..."
Jim repeated. "Blood and sand!" Jeromina exclaimed after a
moment. "Find your bottle man and spit it out!" Jim Started to clear
his throat again but cut it short. "So.. Jerome... Uh..." James
pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed at the beads
of sweat that were suddenly overwhelming his forehead. "Um... Well,
well... All grown up now!" He said. Then letting out a small sigh he
continued. "So... what's the plan then boyo? Off to to tug at the
forelock of life are we?" Jerry was not sure what the sitch was but
it was a dead cert from the pea-soup style tension that filled the
car, that he wouldn't like it. "Gosh Dad, I don't really know
exactly... "Jerry's words trailed off. "Well boy...." James began,
then hesitated. "you see it's..." And again. "Jerome your mother and
I...." And yet again. "We've let your rooms to a border starting in
September!" Blurted out Jeromina, having completely lost her
patience. Jerry was stunned. "That's right boy". James chimed, in a
tone meant to, but was decidedly inadequate, lighten the mood. "Time
for you to be your own man. Pull the chocs, as it were. Carry on and
all that." James concluded. With that said, he realigned his mirror
and they continued home in silence. So, one morning in early fall,
his suitcase in hand, and a lump in his throat, Jerry bid farewell
to his parents and his home. He had a quick look back, then got in
the taxi, that would take him to the train, that would take him to
his new life. Jerry attended University. Being into sport, but not
physically adept enough to enter the more strenuous categories,
Jerry's first attempt at a degree was in Nuclear Fission. He dropped
out after the first week, severely disappointed and considerably
poorer, when he came to realize it was not after all the study of
catching fish with thermonuclear devices. He moved on to city
college. There he read his second love, Astro-Navigation. He tore
into it the work and soon received top marks. Unfortunately these
were mainly watermarks from the rising damp in his low-rent student
flat. Four years later, with diploma in hand and his optimism high,
Jerry went into the world of the working masses. "To find my place
therein." he thought "To make my mark on society, civilization, the
Galaxy!" He continued. "To carve my way through the Universe, with a
hardy but well rounded crew of explorers. Making contact with exotic
races! eating weird foods with oddly shaped utensils!! Teaching the
native females about the earth thing called 'Kissing'!!!" (The
remainder of this particular thought process has been deleted as to
maintain a socially acceptable standard of decency.) His timing
could not have been worse. The World economy was full-on in the
midst one of the harshest recessions in nearly a century.
Unemployment flourished as, solar system wide, corporate downsizing
was mercilessly implemented. Many major corporations collapsed under
the weight of the bloated wallets of their executives. Space
exploration and exploitation, for fun and profit, was almost
completely halted due to a severe lack of willingness of the toffs
to give up any of their money. Jerry pounded the pavement looking
for a spacer job until his dogs were barking bloody murder. First he
tried for something in navigation. No Luck Next, something in
logistics. Goose egg. Engineering. Nope. Science. Diddly. Medical.
Nowt. Technical. Squat. Maintenance. Nothing. As the weeks went by
they left lots of bills on his landing and s the pile got higher,
Jerry's employment requirements got lower and lower, until he was
looking for any job, doing anything. that would take him into space.
Not a dicky bird. Zilch, zippo, zot. Jerry got a job. Having all but
exhausted his bank account, larder and desirable employment options,
as well as the patience of the utilities boards and his landlord,
Jerry settled for a part-time position as Royal radiation tester for
the Imperial Soilent Patties® at a local Burger Emperor® Franchise.
He cheered himself up by noting it was only a temporary gig, until
his ship came in (literally). He repeated this mantra daily as if to
say it enough would make it so. A year later Jerry was no still no
closer to the stars but with hard work and reluctant but mandatory
managerial arse-licking he was given the position of m'Lord's lard
sifter at ye olde fry-vat. Soon thereafter but shortly before
hanging his bananas on a hatstand, heading round the twist and
checking himself into a rubber room at the local Head-Case Hotel, an
unexpected and life-changing event occurred. While driving (Well,
Flinstoning is perhaps a more apt description, as his clunker had no
floorboards and didn't run almost as often as it didn't run.) his
antique (dilapidated) Reliant Robin, he ran into (literally! The man
was waking across the street and suffered a small scuff on the left
leg of his trousers. (The vehicle was all but totaled.)) a
recruiting officer for the U.N. Space Marines. This "Larger-Than-
Life" Marine (A nasty piece of work, known as Hank to his friends
and "Please, not in the face!!" to everyone else.) was none to happy
about the situation. He was even less happy with the delay it
caused. The consequences being that he would therefore, miss his
appointment with a possible recruit and therefore, fail to meet his
monthly recruiting quota and therefore, not receive his monthly
recruiting quota bonus and therefore, be unable to use his monthly
recruiting quota bonus to take Mable, his longtime fiance, who was
well known about town as the person you'd least likely want to be
even slightly annoyed at you, to the Holopictures as he promised and
therefore, this caused the Sergeant to become severely agitated.
Therefore, shortly therefore, (oops sorry) there after... Jerry
enlisted in the U.N. Space Marines. Four years of service taught
Jerry a great deal about Navigation and its practical uses.
Unfortunately most of this had to do with Navigating a paring knife
around potatoes. Yes, Jerry was fun-loving (Has that been mentioned
that already?). His love of humour and practical jokes (after a
several weeks of unspeakable torture called boot-camp and a few
months active duty to find his niche.) was his only source of
pleasure. The irony in this scenario, which was obvious to everybody
save Jerry, was that his application of these skills were the sole
reason that he never received a promotion, (He was in fact one of
only 3 people in the history of the U.N. Marine Corps to leave the
service at a lower rank then they came in at.) commendation or even
a card saying "Thank you for you service". Jerry's pranks started
small and simple. Putting the drawers in Quartermaster's Desk in
upside down, or reversing the Massage Therapy Room and Enema Room
signs in infirmary, filling the salt shakers in the officers mess
with Salt Peter and the pepper pots with Viagra© powder, or painting
the Black Ops barracks Flamingo Pink. Yet as Jerry's dislike for the
Service grew in unison with the Service's dislike for him, so too
did the scale and derisive nature of his Foibles It should be noted
that he never injured anyone or caused any serious damage.(See the
recently declassified UNSM Dossier PVT. 33rd Class JGJAMES012145-606-
42723434567678-12-34-42B for further details.) These digressions in
military protocol often found Jerry before a military tribunal to
assess his usefulness to his unit and the military in general. The
conclusion of all of these hearings were the same following the line
of logic that although Jerry was often "Painfully Annoying" and
quite more often. in need of a swift kick in the undercarriage,
after a six week basic training programme consisting mainly of just
such treatment having done no good whatever, in direct correlation
with the simple truth that, as long as the jokes were not on you,
they were generally clever and damn funny, sentencing involved the
administration of only minimal disciplinary action against him.
Jerry's motives were simple. He wanted out of the hell his man
powered 3-wheeler had gotten him into and in the worst possible way!
His assumption was that his well exercised wit and his love for
trickery (Which incidentally became expertly honed in the years that
followed.), would serve him well to this end. His assumption was
quite thoroughly incorrect. The saddest and markedly maladroit
characteristic of Jerry's time in uniform was his complete lack of
understanding of military procedure and how it functions. He was
completely ignorant to the fact that the Judges in question knew all
to well his desire, and they would have as soon bombed their gray-
hared granny's retirement home then let the cheeky bugger have it
away. Unless of course Jerry went on to commit a heinous crime that
called for a Criminal Discharge and some serious jail time with a
severely, socially maladjusted, bunk-mate (Called Lug or some other
monosyllabic name that strikes terror into the person with whom they
wish to share their most personal feelings.) that was ever-so sweet
on Jerry. In lieu of such an offense they instead spent the next few
years making him peel a perpetual flow of produce with knives that
grew increasingly more blunt or scrubbing privies with brushes that
grew consistently smaller (The worst case being when, after a
particularly disruptive prank, Jerry was sentenced to Khazi duty for
an entire month (Which coincidentally, coincided precisely, with the
U.N.s month-long tribute to South American Cuisine (Need I go
on?).), equipped with only a cotton bud.). Dealing with each
incident as it arose and transferring him to a different location at
every possible opportunity, the Adjudicators and Jerry's superior
officers merely bided their time, always checking their seats before
they sat down, never accepting gum, sweets, cigarettes or cigars
from strangers, making their second in command open doors drawers
and briefcases, enter rooms ahead of them and keeping a sergeant at
arm around to stomp out the occasional burning bag a dog feces that
found it's way to their front landing and of course making Jerry's
life as miserable as Military Law would allow. After his tour of
duty (which included and was almost exclusive too all the kitchen's
and thunderboxes of half a dozen different military bases and two
U.N. Peacekeeping Destroyers.) and receiving an honourable
but "Thank Our Sweet Lord He's Gone!" discharge, Jerry was free!
Jerry went home. He returned home to his folks, hoping for a, long
overdue, bit of unconditional love. He Arrived weary and worn only
to find that his home had yet again moved and unfortunately left no
forwarding address. Only slightly daunted, he picked up his
belongings and went in search of a place to stay. As he signed the
lease of his new (A term used in reference to Jerry occupancy
exclusively and not at all related in anyway to the age or condition
of the property.) apartment and the medical consignment forms,
relinquishing all rights to an arm and a leg if he failed to pay the
rent, his hopes were raised slightly and for a brief moment when he
considered that his military service could at least score him his
old job. "Who knows? Thought Jerry. "After a decade or so of
service, I might even make it to Second Viscount of Patty Flipping."
His hopes were lowered immensely and for what seem like eternity
when he realized what he was actually thinking about. "Bugger that
for a game of soldiers!" He Interjected to himself. "Oh wait..." He
continued. "Bleedin' well been there, done that." As the flat door
slid noisily closed behind him, Jerry collapsed in a beat up blue
and orange beanbag chair that, apparently was to serve as his sofa,
chair and bed as it appeared to be the only piece of furniture in
the place. Jerry closed his eyes. savorying for a moment the quiet
and stillness that enveloped him and even more so, the fact that no
one could tell him to peel anything he didn't have an ardent desire
to peel. He let loose a humongous sigh that felt as if it were four
years in the making. After a time, he removed his boots and began
tending to his worn and weary feet. Jerry got depressed. Jerry had
the laser pointed directly at his head. Suddenly and without warning
(well it's not as if could have been too terribly sudden had there
been a warning, so please ignore one or the other of the two. (The
adverb being my preference for elimination but please don't let me
influence your decision in any way.)) and for the first time since
he moved in, the vidphone sounded. It startled him so much that he
gave himself a pierced ear while, simultaneously removing an
unsightly growth from the left buttock of the resident in the
adjoining flat. "Hello? Whose that then?" He asked, as the tears
filled his eyes, causing the room about him to liquefy and
distort. "Hya Jere!" replied an unfamiliar overly excited voice that
made the hair on the back of Jerry's neck do the hustle. He wiped
the tears from his eyes and was utterly shocked to see the
incredibly blurry, decidedly older, but recognizable plump and ruddy-
cheeked face of Freddy Dungabee! "Well I'll be buggered!" Jerry
Exclaimed, not completely sure if he said it aloud or not. Freddy
was his best (only) mate at Barford Primary School back in Brum. A
wave of nostalgia swept over Jerry as he began to recollect those
Salad Days he shared with Freddy at Barffy. Jerry winced as another,
even more intense, wave of pain shot through his perforated lobe,
washing him onto the shores of reality. It all came back to him in a
flash. "Flamin' Nora! Those days were bloody awful!" He
thought. "Possibly the worst years of my life, save the 15 or so
that followed them." Jerry and Freddy were consistently, no
relentlessly, nay irrevocably, actually, All of the above, abused by
their peers. They were the most picked on, the last picked for and
the least (Never ever, ever!) picked up in their entire class. In
brutal reality, it went beyond that. Even as upperclassmen they were
still berated by even the youngest students at Barford. The main
issue for Fred was that for nearly all of his life he had been of
equal or greater girth to his height. At nine years of age, Fred
stood somewhere approaching 3 feet tall and weighed nearly 10 stone.
Now his mass could have been used as threat of harm to others, were
it not for the fact that his chronic asthma brought on severe
coughing fits if he so much as waved his arms about in an excited
fashion, let alone attempted any strenuous physical activity.
Jerry's trouble was quite the opposite. Though he never actually
reached six foot as an adult, at eight years of age, he towered
above his entire school at five feet three inches tall and by twelve
was a vertigo inducing five feet ten. Also in contrast to his
roundish friend, Jerry was very, very, very thin. Razor thin, wafer
thin, thin as a rail. He was as thin or perhaps even thinner then
his mate Freddy was thick. The lack of virtually any meat upon
Jerry's frame took any power he might have had over the other pupils
away. Had he any weight behind his height Jerry might have been
feared or respected. As it was the only fear he invoked among his
class mates was that he would topple and fall on them whilst he was
holding a sharp or heavy object. So it was for eight excruciatingly,
barbarous, years Jerry and Freddy were teased, abused. In addition
they were all but stripped of their identities because when
addressed by other student they were instead and almost with-out
exception referred to as LSP (Lanky Stream of Piss) and LardArse. In
one extensively documented incident of abuse that occurred during
Jerry and Freddy's last year at Barford, while cleaning and clearing
the Instruments from a recent recital, (No, they were not actually
in the band, but as a testament to their low social status it should
be noted that, the two students were tormented and subjugated not
only by the members in the school band but the Maths Society and
chess club as well.) Freddy was forced, with some effort and
considerable skill into a Kettle Drum. Then Jerry was screwed
mercilessly, halfway into a Sousaphone. This was incredibly
embarrassing for a myriad of obvious reasons. The two principles
being: 1. Only after, the faculty and staff, nearly a dozen
paramedics, nine policemen (three of which returned later with their
families.), four reporters, two video journalists, the entire
student body and some thirty-odd tourists from the U.S., whose bus
inexplicably broken down outside during the altercation, all in
turn, came into the Auditorium, looked at length at the two boys,
had an even lengthier laugh and left unable to provide a solution
that didn't involve a a pound of butter and a really big shoehorn or
some similar punchline, did the headmaster decide to take action. He
had to call two men from the mill with huge saws to cut Freddy out
of the drum and hire a welder and acetylene torch to release Jerry
from the tuba. 2. (second for dramatic purposes only, not to denote
embarrassment level) To their utter chagrin and quite possibly
haunting the two men to this very day, is the fact that the
perpetrators of the stunt were two young girls (Margaret and
Gwendoline, five and six years of age respectively) from the nearby
boarding school Miss Barquendale's Etiquette Academy for Genteel and
Refined Young Ladies. Jerry and Freddy, for their entire primary
scholastic careers, remained thoroughly affixed to the lowest wrung
of the social ladder that is so important in the formative years. As
perpetual outcasts and targets of both mental and physical abuse,
they found each other and gained some solace in the company of the
equally miserable and after a time became friends and after some
more time parted, and after that, never spoke, never e-mailed, never
popped a note in the post, never vidgraphed, never kept in touch and
never saw one another again until that very moment. Jerry wiped his
eyes again. He screwed and unscrewed them in an attempt to better
see. "Good ol' Freddy!" He thought. "Seven times elected as the berk
less likely to succeed then dust." Jerry perked up a bit. If anyone
could make him feel better through a tale of greater suffering and
misery it would be Freddy, He glowered at the still blurry and
obfuscated screen momentarily then said."Freddy you old cocker!
Stone the crows if it hasn't been donkey's years." Adding. "Looking
Good." This last statement being completely perfunctory, as he still
was a bit bleary-eyed. "How's things with you Freddy?" "Folks just
call me Fred these days Jere." Fred Dungabee, thick as frozen
treacle and twice as slow, gushed platitudes and guffawed heartily
at his old school chum. He topped it off with a merry little wink."
Jere, Jere, Jere! You old bar steward !... After all this time...
The boys from Brum reunion!!! Bleedin Heck you are a harder to find
then a set of hens teeth in a duck's mouth boyo! Been
lookin'Blahfind youblahyears!" Jerry was less then enthusiastic at
the more then enthusiastic greeting of his long lost friend. As his
vision cleared he began to focus on the screen. He noticed that, the
porcine pal he had known so long ago and whom he had expected to
have given spare change on some street corner or at best lent at
least a fiver to by this point, was in fact dressed to the nines in
some quite posh togs. He was sitting on what looked like a Louis XIV
Chair (His adiposity, combined with the forces of gravity, causing
it considerable distress). He was smoking a really huge cigar and
was wearing his standard, 'I'm clueless please take advantage of me
as i remain blissfully unaware', expression. All of this was
happening in front of what appeared to be either a masterful
reproduction of, or the original Starry Night. Jerry, usually the
one with something nice to say in the most un-nicest of situations
was utterly speechless. Fred, not getting it, as was his way,
pressed on in a most Fredly way. "Look buddy I remember those tough
yearsblahhad andblahblahstuck with me! Weblahbezzyblah doing time at
theblahBarfatorium! WeblahTightblaha duck'sblahwe were,
likeblahblah...." As Fred spoke, Jerry's wounded ear felling totally
shunned and in reaction to the egregious assault it had suffered as
well, had gone totally spare. It was throbbing intensely and busy
making the entire nervous system aware of how put off it was. The
disgruntled appendage mercilessly bombarded Jerry's cerebral cortex
with some seriously obscene Instant messages. This was, as one might
expect, severely impeding Jerry's cognitive abilities. His over-
baked loaf was not batting on a full wicket (In fact at that time,
was unable to even find a wicket. The world inside Jerry's skull was
spinning clockwise, while the rest of the universe was spinning anti-
clockwise, The combination of which created an effect that, if
experienced under different circumstances, he might have actually
enjoyed. Alas, this was not such a circumstance. Instead his miffed
ear continued nattering on irately in it's electrochemical language
and giving Jerry's brain a proper thrashing via erratically timed
pulses that induced varying degrees of agony. His head meanwhile,
pounded incessantly, the beat to which his neck hairs were once
again dancing (Distracting as it was , he had to admit it was a
rather.groovy rhythm.) Jerry's addled brain was in hyperdrive from
trying to placate his understandably irritated ear as it twined on
in protest, maintain the different drum the various and sundry hairs
were undulating to, cope with the two severe and distinctly
different cases of vertigo as well as attempting to retrieve several
years of long forgotten memories of Jerry's childhood. Meanwhile,
and certainly not in aid of Jerry's debilitated state, Fred's words
were a cocked up muddle. He nattered on as the gibberish rambled out
of the speaker. Jerry and his over-cooked noodle made a Herculean
effort to compose themselves, in order to give the conversation a
proper go. Soon the pain from his dissected lob eased up a bit and
the inner world and outer world slowed their rotations and synced.
Focusing what little he controlled of his gray matter he listened
again to a bit more incoherent blathering from Fred. Eventually a
few of the correct synapses fired and Jerry suddenly remembered.
This was how Freddy always spoke when
excited."BlahblahblahJaniceblahblahblah" Fred
continued. "Marriedblahblahbillions! With ablah!! BlahblahsDaddy-in-
lawlawblahblahbig-shot! BlahblahJMCblahblah! you need aBlah?" Jerry
shook his head a bit like he used to do after hearing a typical
Fredologue. He was rusty and not quite himself but he still knew the
drill and should soon have it sussed. Sifting through the words he
could make sense of and rolling them about in his head, Jerry tried
to glean from them, some semblance of understandability. "Hmm...
Janice..." He thought "The wife no doubt... so he married up eh?
Real up I guess...To Right! Now he's got an in-law job at Jupiter
Mining Corporation. and...Hang about!! Jerry dropped his brain
anchors, "Did he??!" He cleared his throat and straightened up in
his beanbag a bit. With wide eyes and nearly breathless he
gasped "Do I need a what?" Fred beamed at him cheerfully "Yeah mate
I'm certain i can get you a job with 'em if your interested. Been
looking for you for about four years I reckon. Really Jere,
Iblahblahthought blahwereblahdog's testicles! Then I
heardblahblahblahdegreeblahnavigation. I found
blahburgerblahblahworked at andblahsaidblahmissed youblahonly a few
hours." Jerry deftly pieced together Fred last sentence, after which
he looked around for his laser. "Anyway," Continued Fred,
interrupting Jerry''s Maudlin contemplation. "Glad I found ya. I'll
Pseudo-Trans you a JMC preferred application now. just fill in the
blanks, touch the blue box labeled submit in the lower left corner
and Bob's yer uncle! Only thing I ask is that you don't mention my
name until after you've cleared the criminal background checks and
drug screenings." Jerry managed (on the outside at least.) to
overcome the impending nervous breakdown and re-hinged his jaw. He
thought "What a good egg is old Fred.". Twinges of guilt invaded
Jerry's already turgid emotion pool. "Cor! A right tosser with a
grotbag full of bumtags I am." He concluded. Quickly, Jerry
presented, what in only the loosest of terms could be called, a
smile and gave his mate a sincere and heartfelt "Thanks Fred, yer a
real brick." All this underlying emotional turmoil was completely
missed by Fred who was nothing but chuffed to buggery to be able to
help the bloke he considered one of the best mates (before he
married a rich girl of course.) that he had ever had. "Good to see
you Jere! Hope to have you on-board soon! t'ra a bit!" Jerry, still
a few cans short of a picnic, muttered "Abysinnia." As the view-
screen blackened and a piece of paper slid from a slot underneath
it. Jerry sighed, and whispered, "Finally... a bit of alright. " He
gingerly felt around his wounded ear. Finding it relatively intact,
he opened a drawer and withdrew a stylus Jerry filled out the
application.
Favourite Sayings
I'll keep the peace!... In fact, I might even keep the whole thing!!
(to the nearest Dupe) Jerry: Wehey! Just got a new Henway in the
post!! (the usual response) Dupe: What's a Henway? (to which is
gleefully replied) Jerry: 'bout 2 kilos. "Outside of a dog a book is
man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read." "Once you
can accept the universe as matter expanding into nothing that is
something... wearing stripes with plaid comes easy." "Reverse the
polarity of the Neutron Flow!" "I know not with what weapons World
War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks
and stones." "Fascinating Captain."