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[Fiction] A Lesson Learned (Mature Language)

Lemmy Chillmeister

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Rashoud Facility, New York, NY.

“Sir, please state your name for the record.”

“Fuck you. That’s my name.”

“Sir, again, please state your name for the record.”

“Where is my fucking lawyer?”

“Sir, you are not under arrest. You are merely being detained.”

“Wow, thanks a load. I still want a lawyer. My lawyer will chew you to fucking bits you dick. This is still America right?”

“Yes, however we are not representatives of the United States government. We are Project Utopia acting on behalf of the United Nations. We have been given authority to pursue those novas accused of terrorist activity. None of this is a surprise to you. Frankly I’m tired of repeating myself.”

“Fuck you.”

“Impressive. Nice to see the gift of an active MR Node can happen to any vulgarian. Now, we will hold you until you cooperate. U.S. law does not come into question here. Please state your name for the record.”

“Lemmy Chillmeister. Happy?”

“Again, this is for the record. Please state your legal name.”

“Eat me. I’m getting it changed. Lemmy is what I go by, Lemmy is what I paid Appelate International for and Lemmy is what I am telling you.”

“How manly of you. Now get this straight, you are currently being held for questioning regarding of terrorist activities. After what has happened in Tampa, New Orleans and now New York the United States is finally willing to cooperate with us. No one is going to help you except yourself. So knock this macho bullshit off, answer the questions and we can all go on.”

“Man, if you didn’t have my ass drugged to the gills I’d freeze you fuckin’ solid right now.”

“But you are. For your own safety as well as mine. The World Court has supported the use of mox on novas in custody. Bitch all you want. Now, give me your legal name right now or I stick you in a holding cell and forget you exist.”

“Joseph Tucker. Happy?”

“Very. Now, what were you doing at the Blackburn hotel the night of January 13th of this year?”

“What, you didn’t get the pictures? I thought that stuff would have made the rounds.”

“Answer the questions please.”

“I was knockin’ boots with this freaky nova chick.”

“No. Why were you at the Blackburn?”

“Party man, why else?”

“Who invited you to the party?”

“Some guy.”

“What was his name?”

“I don’t know man. I never seen his ass before.”

“What did he look like?”

“I dunno.”

“Very funny. Play stupid all you want but we have your Rashoud Clinic results. You test high baseline for visual memory. What did he look like?”

“Fuck you!! That shit’s confidential! Doctor patient privilege and that shit.”

“Listen, Mr. Tucker, we own the Rashoud Clinics. We own that data. We haven’t turned it over to any other agency so no privilege has been broken. Now answer the damn question.”

“Listen you fuckin’ assclown, I don’t know what he looked like! He was wearing a goddamn mask! You know, a mask? Some novas do wear that shit. This guy did. Looked like one of those Mexican wrestler’s masks. Fact is that’s what he looked like, a luchador.”


“Shit, don’t know everything do you? Yeah, Mexican wrestlers didn’t get all ‘roided up like Triple H or Steiner or that shit. They was pretty toned, but they was lean and fast. They did freestyle acrobatic shit. They was called Luchadors, cuz the style was called Luche Libre.”

“Is the man in any of these pictures?”

“Yeah, that guy. The one in the red and black mask. Who is he?”

“He’s a Teragen member by the name of Matador. He’s a terrorist.”


“Nice to see you’re impressed. It’s about time.”

“I’m not impressed. Dude just invited me to a party and according you guys the whole Teragen group are terrorists. But in ain’t like they’ve done a lot.”

“Assassination is enough.”

“Dude was a dick. Racist shit. I do watch the ‘net you know. I ain’t clueless.”

“That remains to be seen. Now, when did you meet Matador.”

“Early morning. I just got tossed from the AmpRoom. Andy Vance himself tossed me.”

“You sound vaguely proud of being ejected. Can Mr. Vance verify this?”

“Hell if I know. I don’t know how many guys he’s gotta boot in a night. Him and his boyfriend both tossed a couple of us. I guess we got too rowdy. They was real cool about it.”

“Was Matador one of those individuals?”

“Nah, I didn’t see him inside. He came out after us all on his lonesome.”


“You got my files Kojak. It say anywhere in there I read minds?”

“Why do you think then?”

“Fuck if I know. Maybe he liked my singing. Some people do you know.”

“I doubt that was his reasoning. You say you were performing at the Amp Room?”

“Nah. Well, kinda. Some sweet piece said she heard I sung real nice and asked me to belt out a few tunes. I always got my guitar with me so I went to town. Andy asked me to shut the hell up, we all razzed him and BOOM, he and his honey bunny got one of us in each hand and boot us out the door.”

“What were you singing?”

“New song for my chip. I don’t think you’d like it.”

“No bet there. What was it.”

“Screw The Yellow And Blue.”


“Hey man, you got the authority you gotta expect some razzin. Plus, like I said, I read shit and you guys haven’t been playing it all sweet and innocent either so you can fuck right off with that judgmental bullshit. Rock is all about rebellion. I’m just being a rocker. Don’t take it so personal.”

“Wonderful. A conspiracy theorist. What happened next?”

“Well this guy in the mask…”


“Hey, like I said, I don’t know his fucking name. Just because he’s wearing the same mask don’t mean shit. So, this guy in the mask comes up asks us if we want to go to a party at this place in NY. The guys I’m with say no and puss out. I tell Mask, ‘Hell yeah. Let’s go.’ He calls over this hot little number and she like throws out this handful of glitter and it falls to the ground leaving this door in space kind of thing.”

“What was the young ladies name?”

“Her name I know. Always get a chick’s name. Especially the hot ones.”

“How gallant. What was her name?”


“Julie what?”

“Fuck if I know. Julie’s all I know.”

“What did she look like?”

“Hell, you got her already. She’s the chick I was doing the mid-air love-robatics with.”

“The violet haired woman? That is Veronica Gutierez, aka Transit. She’s wanted in six countries for a variety of crimes!”

“Wow. She gave me a bogus name. That sucks.”

“sigh. Alright, what happened when you arrived at the hotel?”

“We partied.”


“Rocked. Rolled. Fucked. Drank. Danced. Laughed. Jesus man, how fucking old are you?”

“Did you see where Matador went?”

“I saw where the guy in the MASK went. He left. Went upstairs when I started mackin’ on Julie, uh, that Veronica chick.”

“Did you see him again prior to our arrival?”

“Arrival? Nice way to put it. Kicking down the door like the fucking Gestapo is more like it. What the hell were you expecting?”

“Did you see him again prior to our arrival.”

“Subtle. No, no I didn’t. He took off and I started getting off.”

“What did Ms. Gutierez tell you about where you were?”

“Said it was the Blackburn, some old hotel and that it was the place to party if you weren’t down with being a monkeylover.”

“Really? Why?”

“Hell, I don’t know man. They have a killer DJ and play that Ter’r stuff. And I guess up until now nobody was fucking hassling them.”

“What did you notice of the layout?”

“What? Dude, you guys were there, you fucking know how the place was.”

“It is in your best interest to cooperate.”

“Y’know what? Screw this. What the hell do you guys want from me? Nothing happened except for some partying. We weren’t playing piñata with baseline babies. We weren’t planning on killing Pax. We weren’t doing anything. Hell, this ‘Matador’ guy you say is a terrorist never even told me he was a fucking Terat!!”

“There are many ways of interpreting the events. If you would cooperate and help us do our jobs this could help you.”


“Now, to the layman eye your experiences might not have obvious subversive connotations. But, if you look at it carefully, if you analyze exactly what was said, if you analyze behavior, you’d be surprised at what you can see.”

“Dude, I’m not some James Bond knock-off! How the hell do I know how to analyze that shit?”

“You don’t. We do. Just give us everything we need and we can help you.”

“Help me? How?”

“Let it be known that you cooperated. You’re in show biz. How would a photo-op with T2M help your sales? You have a contract with Mefistofoleez’s low rent label? Well, if you were known as an ally of Utopia perhaps Alejandra could look past the adult lyrical content of your songs and be willing to sign up someone seen as socially responsible. I’m not talking about being a sell out here either. Not helping out ‘The Man’, but tracking down terrorists. Hey, it’s dangerous work. Being the bad ass hero sells, doesn’t it?”

”You have to be fucking kidding me.”

“Not at all. The fact is Mr. Tucker, we know that Matador and his companions are more than just Terats. The Teragen as a whole, regardless of all our PR, is still just a socio-political movement. Matador and his kind are actual terrorists. They have blood on their hands. We know this for a fact. You wouldn’t be saying anything we don’t know already. It is just that the evidence we have, while completely obvious to those who understand such things, won’t hold up in court. You give us what we need and that gives us the chance to put away the bad guys. You don’t have to act like one of the stiffs in the yellow and blue spandex to be a hero. C’mon and make your mom and dad proud.”


“Alright. Let me give you some time to think this over. Look at these pictures, see what they’ve done. Just hit the buzzer when you’re ready. How about I get you some food?”

And time passes.

“Ok Mr. Tucker. I’m glad to see that you’ve decided….”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Excuse me?”

“Let me get this straight for you man. My dad boosted cars, sold crank and beat the crap out of me on a regular basis. My mom screwed everything that moved, including two of my best friends in high school. So making them proud ain’t real high on my list of things to do. The only thing they ever did right by me was let me listen to their CD’s and learn about the greatest music of all time. I ain’t no hero. I don’t wear spandex and I still think you pie in the sky motherfuckers at Utopia don’t have any idea of what the hell you are doing. Read a little philosophy or sociology before you start trying to re-arrange the world according to your liberal guilt mentality. I ain’t gonna lie.”

“Listen you little punk it won’t be lying. We know what they’ve done. If you ever want out of this cell you will fucking help us.”

“Nice threat dude. But y’know what? I metabolize that shit pretty darn fast nowadays. In fact, I’m feeling a might warm. How about I cool shit down real nice?’

“What the hell…..”

“Yeah man. Drug’s have worn off. Cool trick I learned just a little bit ago. Helped me get a monkey off my back. That Adrenocillan is some addictive shit, y’know that? Anyway, I think I’ll be leaving now. Stop me and people will die. I’ll turn my ass into the U.S. authorities if that happens. Right after I talk with a lawyer and the press. So back off if you don’t want this building littered with frozen body parts. I don’t care if you know what they did. I don’t. You ain’t proved it to me and y’know something? You’re supposed to be the good guys, that’s what you’re always saying. You don’t get to cheat and be the good guys. I mean, I always thought you were uptight assholes and a bunch of dicks, but I did think you were the good guys. You were actually trying to make the world a better

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