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A Comedy of Peace Part 2
Posted By: Jason P.<usaf_thunderbird_16@hotmail.com>
Date: 24 April 2002, 2:22 am

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This part is just to tie up some loose ends from the first part that I don't want to get out of control. In here you learn how the MC and Jevorah met. That's basically the entire point actually.

     "Then we are... what do you say? Screwed?" said the distant voice...
     "No shit big guy," John heard himself saying as his vision blurred, obscuring the table rushing up to his head.
     Jevorah stood, his eyes slowly moving back from the letter to the drunken "hero" passed out at the table. What irony! He thought, the scene reminding him of when the two first met. Three years before John was dropping shots at a bar to celebrate his so-called retirement. Jevorah was in there, as a bouncer. He was proud to have only had one fight to occur under his watch. He believed it to be his powerful look- the humans gave the credit to the plasma sword he carried around at the time, before John ended up breaking it by temporarily taking up fencing while it was off. That night had been like any other. Jevorah was showing off his sword to the few Grunts and Jackals that frequented the bar. There were no hunters allowed however- their spines tended to rip apart the door-frames, not to mention that beer had a greater effect on them than it did for the average man, leading to thousands of bar brawl deaths by metal shield. While flipping his activated sword in his hand, Jevorah noticed a human, taller than the rest. At least he would have been taller if he wasn't doubled over holding in vomit. The human stumbled forward, falling at Jevorah's feet. The grunts screamed out of surprise, all running wildly out the door and down the busy street. Jevorah somehow recognized the face immediately. He had seen it only once before, when the Master Chief once took off his helmet before a battle to eat. The elite picked John up by the neck, and stared into the glazed eyes. He stood there, staring at the face which looked twisted from hate. In reality he was wincing from the horrible breath that John had. Jevorah sat John down at a table near the door and left him alone for the rest of the night.How John found his apartment the next morning he was not sure about, all he knew was upon waking up and heading out the door, John was sitting on the sidewalk with a liquor bottle wrapped in a paper bag asking for money."Help the needy, help a cripple... Help a poor man learn to walk again!" John was hollering to the people passing by. Too bad his was tapping his feet while he said it to keep the rhythm. Jevorah, not really understanding human ways, invited John in, where he offered to let him stay as long as he paid rent.

     Of course now Jevorah had been the one out of a job and John was supporting him. Funny how life could turn around like that. But now, Jevorah thought, neither of us will need to support the other. After this movie we will be rich! Now just to find a number or e-mail or something they could use to contact this Mr. Spielberg.
     "WAAAAYKE UUUUUHP!" the booming voice hollered. John jumped up from his drunken sleep. "Why the HELL do you always do that?!" he hollered back.
     "Because I have an idea!"
     "Well I have an idea too"
     "Really?! What may it be?" said the somewhat na‘ve alien.
     "Take your head and shove it where the sun doesn't shine..."
     "Why would I put my head in the closet?"
     "Just... never mind. What's your idea?"The Elite jumped up and down from the excitement. "We simply send a letter back to the address that it came from!"
     "And you just figured this out when?
     "Just now!"
     "Yeah, there's a building just down the street. It's called 'The Los Angeles County School for the Mentally Challenged,' you should go there and see what arrangements they have"
     "Please brother, this is a time to think about things much bigger than a measly job!"
     John rolled his eyes and went back to sleep. Jevorah, tired of watching his friend unconscious at a time such as this, decided to write a letter himself. He began to write the letter, careful to write as neatly as possible. His handwriting still looked like a kindergartner's... a very slow kindergartner... He finished the short paragraph and an hour later, and sealed it in a letter. Not sure how much postage to put on it, he put the entire roll of stamps on and went down to the post office.
     John woke up to the sound of the door slamming shut. Oh good, now I can get some real rest. He took another gulp from his beer and let his head crash into the table.