SPACE NOIR BAR by Mike Marino (good novels to read TXT) 📕

We were now in control, but what action to take next was not forthcoming. There were no set of directions in English, French, Spanish and Chinese to decipher. We were running on bare wire instinct in synch with each other.“Look Poontang. We had a brief fling on Saturn, but I know your heart belongs to Deco so take my extra space pod, nifty sports model by the way, lots of speed, and get the hell out of here. We both know you belong with Deco. You're part of his work, the thing that keeps him going, keeps you going. If my pod departs and you're not with him, you'll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life. I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you'll understand that. Now Go!” 

The ghost of Bogart banter had infiltrated my mind once again like a goddamned Vulcan mind meld. She kissed me and said, “We would have made a good team Doc. But, we’ll always have Barbarella!” I felt I should have said that.

We all hurried out the back of the building to my space pod parked in the alley, keys in hand. We all followed to make sure, watching their backs to make sure they would escape, but danger was ahead of the game. We hadn’t noticed in the heat of the moment that Burroughs was not out cold and managed to run out of the office in the wake of all the confusion taking the rusted fire escape that lead directly to the alley where we were headed. 

While we headed down the back stairs to avoid the cops waiting down the hall, Burroughs was already waiting for us in the alley having overheard our plans. He decided to be a hero and bring us in alone without backup…solo….a fool’s game at best of ego. He did manage to grab his own gun we had foolishly left on my desk in our haste to escape.

Now he was holding a Link Wray Derringer on us and was about to march all of us angels with dirty faces to headquarters when a I heard a rare old fashioned gunshot ring out and we watched Burroughs go down like stack of dominoes. I looked around to see who fired the fatal and final blast. It was Louie! He not only had a second gun, an old revolver I had given him as a gift on his 10 year anniversary on the force, but he shot his own boss. We all looked at him in disbelief….and relief!
“Your knot was not very tight old friend. You’d make a lousy Boy Scout,” he sighed. “Look I’m tired of working for the Com-Reds, Yucatan. Let these people escape in peace” and we did. We watched until they were safely in the air. Art and Poontang said their goodbyes and left Louie and myself alone in the fog as the disappeared into the coal black sky on their way back to Robotia after they fired up my backup pod parked in the alley behind a Chinese noodle factory. They had a date with a revolution, while we had egg rolls and leftover fortune cookies.

Louie Louie had also, being a fastidious detective. Thought to grab the real Falcon before he left the office. Burroughs was shot dead, and Louie Louie was still holding the real Falcon in one hand and a smoking revolver in the other, He walked with me in the fog in the direction of his paramilitary police orb to make our escape. He had committed treason and was now an enemy of the state. “Where to Yucatan?”
I thought for a moment. “I know Art Deco has a cabaret for sale Louie. You ever been to Barbarella?” He smiled and started up the cruiser.“He told me he had put it up for sale through a third party to handle the transaction on Barbarella as he had to keep one step ahead of the bloodhounds now.” Yes, he was marked for elimination at all costs...and with him...so was Poontang. Chances are Louie and I are too...

Louie and I did buy the cabaret and saloon….Windsora, or rather The Rabbit and her minions were victorious eventually over the Tohos. Without the Falcon, Toho power was diminished and they were defeated. Strangelove was now back with her lover Windsora and would co-administer a planet where all the Cyborgs and Erotibots were emancipated and free at last, and all the Vortex gang factions were given amnesty and participated in forming a new society.
Art Deco would return as well on a mission to kill Col Kurtz the loose cannon who could jeopardize the new government. Che Stadium went to another planet to lead a new revolution but was captured and killed by government forces.

Long Wang and Wang Chung got married and opened a hair salon and did a booming business doing make overs on freed cyborgs. Sandoz now owns the detective agency with our secretary as his new partner and doing quite well. I guess I was better off running a saloon than running a detective agency. 

As for Arthur Burns...his publishing business has skyrocketed. He’s published a whole series of Doc Yucatan novels and a comic book series featuring Poontang as a sexpot super heroine that he also developed. The movies and sequels can’t be far behind.

On my desk in the cabaret office I have two curious paper weights. One of a Falcon, and the other a strange snow globe with a winter scene with snow falling on a tiny sled. The only inscription on it were the words of a dying man shot dead in my alley...Rosebud!

“Well Yucatan. We made it! l filled a couple of shot glasses and we drank a toast…”Here’s looking at you kid.” We downed our drinks and after a moment of silence I said, “Louie, about that crack you made. You know, if you were a woman and all. You didn’t mean that did you?” “Forget it Yucatan. I was waxing poetic.” As long as he wasn’t waxing his woody I felt better. “I’d feel better if you started waning!”

So, whatever happened to Poontang? Art Deco and her hop scotched around the galaxy, winning battles and whole revolutions. One day in the quiet calm of one of Deco’s victories, Poontang held him tight, looked him in the eye and said she was returning to me.

Poontang came to our cabaret, now renamed The Space Noir Bar in honor of my old saloon in Detroit. I was in my office….door closed ….staring at the paperweights on the desk...my old Ruger pistol in one hand..a drink in the other contemplating my suicide and mustering up the courage to do the deed, when I heard Sam play “Smoke on the Water” It was our song...why was he playing it. Too many memories of love lost. I put the pistol down and with drink in hand went out of the office to question Sam’s bad taste in jokes. As I headed for the piano...there was Poontang. Beautiful as ever..with a jewel like tear on her cheek as she looked at me approaching. She had fallen in love and couldn’t deny it and rocket orbed herself to my cabaret. We married and she is my partner in the cabaret...in life itself.

A week later Louie Louie broached the subject we all three had been curious about. “I wonder what Rosebud means...what is it?” I philosophised as best I could for a high school dropout “It’s the stuff dreams are made of Louie...dreams and nightmares.” Poontang looked at me with that adventurous look she always had...a brilliant dangerous glow emanating from her gaze. She smiled at me and asked what I knew she would ask…”When do we leave Doc?” Hell...we found the Falcon didn’t we. Whatever Rosebud was...where ever it was….together we’d find it...but that had to wait...I had already booked a sex and Soma suite ...that would be our first order of business ...and this time...champagne and Poontang...not cheap wine and one of those damned Erotibots!!!

Text: Mike Marino
Images: Mike Marino
Editing: Mike Marino
Translation: Mike Marino
Publication Date: 06-08-2016

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
Where Bogart and Bergman meet Space Balls