great ball of fire (part 3 of 5)

(originally posted 12/5/2017)

After coitus with Madonna a quick bit of rest became priority number one for Nap. He sat back in the Captain’s chair he had installed, the entire command center for the ship was quickly retrofitted to look exactly like the bridge of the U.S.S. Enterprise, and quickly fell asleep.

At some point you might ask yourself why the government was not only willing to believe Nap’s contention that the comet hurtling towards them was somehow conscious but allow him to borrow a shuttle, complete with a knock-off of the Star Trek command center, and commandeer Jeff Goldblum against his wishes.

Because he’s Nap Lapkin.

The feeling amongst most world leaders was that they were lucky he didn’t demand to have Ben Affleck on call 24/7 in case he was needed to say “He doesn’t know how to fail.”

I hope that answers your question. If not you clearly don’t deserve a Nap Lapkin story in the first place.

Nap had dreamt in airplanes and trains and submarines but space was something new entirely.

This is what he dreamt; that he became somehow responsible for assembling every person on the planet to one location to hear some important information. Apparently dreams in space center primarily on logistical problems.

For some reason it was critical to get everyone on the planet together in one location. All 7.6 billion people needed to be together or something terrible would happen. Note that as a writer it pains me to have to state the current number of people on the planet. Nothing dates a work worse than information like that. When my writings become famous and are passed down from one generation to the next the first thing people in January of 3016 will do is laugh at the number of people I give as the world’s population. They will smirk and think to themselves “Damn, back in 2017 there were certainly a lot of people on the planet” or “Only 7.4 billion?” or “What’s a Peruvian Jaguar” or “18 feet was the record? I can do that with one hand now I’m equipped with the new Turbodick 600.” You can see my dilemma.

Try for one minute to truly imagine the logistics behind getting everyone together in one area. It would have to be an enormous flat area where everyone could camp out and wait for whatever announcement was coming. Like a Woodstock on steroids (for readers in January of 3016, in 2017 steroids were actually considered a bad thing and not something you took every morning with breakfast). You would have to engage every car, every boat, every plane and train and bicycle to get everyone from every corner of the globe. You would have to create teams of workers/soldiers to bring the people who didn’t want to come. I know I asked you to take a minute and imagine this scenario but my gut is telling me you just breezed by this request in the hopes of finding another semen joke but I want you to really stop and think about it.

It boggles the mind. It was boggling Nap’s mind in his dream … but he had to try and accomplish it just the same. Every. Single. Human. Brought to the same spot.

A logistical nightmare.

Nap’s head started to jerk from side to side as he slept. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. A bead of his semen floated by, dangerously close to his head (I couldn’t wait any longer).

An endless stream of humanity coming to one spot. Lines and lines of people in China and Australia and the Congo (yes people from 3016, Africa was still made up of different countries and not just a giant theme park) all waiting to be airlifted. Food, water and shelter having to be provided every step of the way.

Nap’s hands began to twitch.

A billion people arriving. Then three billion. Then the last busload of them pulling up and being led to the field. Everyone was there.

Now what?

Nap’s eyes snapped open.

“Fuck.”

“You’ll never believe the dream I just had” said Nap as he sat up from his commanders chair and surveyed the bridge of the Enterprise.

“The one about your ex-girlfriend communicating to you through fortune cookies?” inquired Madonna.

“No, that’s not a dream. That’s real” said Nap with a little too much force. Madonna knew that Nap believed that one of his ex-girlfriends had the ability to manipulate space and time to ensure that every fortune cookie he ever read would be a reminder of what a fool he was to have lost her. It got to the point that Nap could no longer enjoy a Chinese dinner. He knew he had to be out of the restaurant before the check came or risk getting another way-to-specific-to-be-a-coincidence message from his ex. The last time he opened a cookie the message was so long it took four pieces of the little paper crammed inside the cookie to remind him of what his life would have been like if only he’d been attentive to her needs

“The dream I had involved having to get everyone on Earth together to hear some kind of message” related Nap, still a little frosty about the ex-girlfriend comment.

“Do you think it’s some kind of message from the comet?” asked Jeff Goldblum.

“Well, look who decided to join the party” Nap said with undisguised sarcasm. The truth was that Mr. Goldblum had done nothing their entire journey except sit in his seat and whimper. Nap was getting close to coming to the conclusion that his inclusion was a mistake and he perhaps should have gone with the real scientist. This did not sit well with him at all.

“And another thing Jeff Goldblum… no. My dream has nothing to do with the comet.”

The time to have it out with Jeff Goldblum had arrived.

“And yet another thing Jeff Goldblum … you have been a total disappointment so far.”

“What a shock that is” whispered Madonna under her breath. “Whoever could have seen that coming?” she continued whispering until both Nap and Jeff turned her way to see what all the hushed tones were about.

“My point is” an exacerbated Nap continued “that from this point on you are no longer Jeff Goldblum. You are Chance Goodrod and you are a scientist. If you cannot handle this new role I will be forced to hurl you into the cold depths of space outside this vessel.”

And pivoting quickly vis-à-vis topics “I have also decided to give the comet a name and that name is Bill Haley. If I’m going to communicate with it, it needs a name.” Nap sat back with an air of halting pride plastered on his face from making this important decision.

“That makes no sense” interjected Madonna, causing Nap’s face to become unplastered. Never a good look.

“What do you mean?”

“I think she means” said the newly-minted Chance Goodrod “that it was Bill Haley and the Comets. Bill Haley wasn’t the comet.”

“In fact” rallying to support Goodrod’s argument “if anyone would be Bill Haley it would be you” said Madonna staring at Nap.

A wave of fury broke across Nap’s formerly plastered face. If he were Captain Kirk there would have been no doubt in anyone’s mind he would have slapped a red shirt on both of them and they would have been the first ones down to explore whatever new world they happened to be stopping at. As sure a death sentence as electric chair could hope to be. In fact, for a brief moment he looked at them both and they were both wearing a red shirts and a small smile crept across his face.

To Madonna and Chance the small smile was just about as creepy as a small smile can be.

Composing himself quickly, Nap added “Ok, I will name the comet Comet. Comet the comet. Happy now? No whimsy at all.”

Feeling much bolder since the new role had been bestowed upon him, Chance spoke up again. “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

“Shut up Goodrod” and with that Nap turned to his instrumentation.

They were getting close.