A Comedy of Peace
Posted By: Jason P.<firstname.lastname@example.org>
Date: 22 April 2002, 7:37 pm
This is just a little comedy I wrote to see what kind of response I would get. It really has nothing to do with Halo's plotline, and I made no effort to make it "realistic" in relation to the game or the book. It's just something to get you to chuckle at. If I have some positive response, I'll continue it somehow. Please remember that I wrote this in 15 minutes while I was bored. It takes place in a hypothetical situation I've made. The Covenant and Humans have made peace, and now live together. In this somewhat peaceful relationship, we find the Master Chief, now out of a job because there is nothing to fight, yet still famous.
The clock struck 7:00 am, and immediately began blaring its loud buzzing noise. John's eyes slowly opened, glazed from having a few too many drinks the night before. He refused to turn off the alarm, he just didn't want to move. It'll cut off after a while at least, he thought. Just then a grunt, or maybe something closer to a growl came from the room across the hall. Jevorah, once a golden elite, walked in, limping with exhaustion. He slammed his fist down on the clock, smashing it to pieces.
"Why the hell did you do that?" John asked. "We barely make enough money to pay rent, how the hell are we gonna get a new clock?"
"You should learn to wake up by the sun. Besides, the calls are going to start in a few minutes anyway," answered Jevorah, in his growling voice. Jevorah spoke almost perfect English, though with a Germanic accent. During the war, Jevorah was John's Covenant counter-part, the best of the best. He was the youngest elite to achieve the honor of becoming fleet admiral. He had ordered the deaths of over 73 million humans, and now, now he was living in a two-bedroom apartment with his old rival, out of work, dirt poor, and completely without the honor he had known. John was faring no better, but at least he had fans still.... Jevorah rarely got calls, maybe once or twice a month from Grunts and Jackals that had served under him.
"I'm going to take a shower," said Jevorah. "Get the mail will you?"
"Yeah, yeah... even though it's YOUR turn to get the mail."
Jevorah turned on the shower as John walked out the door to their car- a 2530 Chevro-Ford Thunderbolt. It was 40 years old, but it was the closest thing John could afford to the 2565 Thunderbolt Spartan Edition they had named after him. At least it came in the same color as his MJOLNIR armor...
At the post office, John did not need to open his box- he received so much fan-mail that the post-office workers had set up a huge box in the back room for his mail. They had numbered it "117," though there was already another one up front. John couldn't understand why he still got fan mail, especially since he never answered any of it. Cramming the trash bag he brought to hold the mail into the trunk of his car, a letter fell out. He was just about to put it back in when he noticed the Logo on the front- ABCDEFG Studios. He quickly opened up the letter, and was astounded by what he read:
We at ABCDEFG Studios wish to produce, with your permission, a movie about your fight on Halo. You will play the starring role as yourself if you choose, and the Elite Commander Jevorah may play as a Covenant commander you encountered on the Truth and Reconciliation. Enclosed it a base script of the movie. We sincerely hope you wish to join us in this production.
| || Steven Spielberg MMXCVI|
Well, John thought, I'm drunker than I thought I was.
John returned home just as Jevorah was getting out of the shower. "Why do you even try to stay clean anyway?" he asked. "You don't have a job, it's not like you're going out on a date or something."
"I have an interview today," Jevorah said
"Oh, and where might that be, the seven eleven?"
"As a matter of fact, yes."
John stared at his alien roommate with curiosity. There's no way in hell he's getting a job there. He's 8 feet tall and scares kids on the street by just being spotted.
Later that day, around lunchtime John guessed as he was on his 2nd twelve-pack, Jevorah returned, happier than John had ever seen him. "What have you been smoking?" John asked
"Why my brother, I have gotten a job!"
"No shit? Now maybe you'll pay your share of the rent around here"
"What is that letter on the table?" Jevorah asked, looking at the movie offer John had forgotten about.
"Oh, that.... I found it in the mail today... ABCD.... FHG? Whatever... that really big TV company wants to make a movie about us."
"Why did you not tell me?"
"I thought I was so drunk that I imagined it."
Jevorah walked over to the table and picked up the letter, reading it carefully. "You were not as wasted as you thought, the letter is real!"
"Well then, let's call them"
"We shall... What is the number?"
"Hell if I know..."
"Then we are... what do you say? Screwed?"
"No shit, big guy."
John let out a loud belch, and passed out with his beer in his hand.
"I shall never understand why humans fall unconscious to that liquid... It is really not much worse than the water on the Jackal homeworld.