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The Noah Boaddy Tapes,
As told to a traveling salesman
Edited by Adam Kidd
Dedication
To Lynn Mackenzie, Waitress at the Golden Lasso bar and grill, I always told you I would send you a tip, here is one: Watch out for which hitchhiker you pick up.
FOREWARD
By Adam Kidd, Editor, Miles Times Publishing
Over the past several years, our publishing received several large articles and short stories by a traveling salesman, nothing ever Pulitzer worthy, however after some time we discovered that our mysterious contributor was in fact selling magazines that our company published, and after meeting with him and becoming acquaintances, I began to realize that these stories and articles would make interesting reading for other traveling salesmen, especially those who carried our products, so after looking through a volume of contributions, we released our first issue of “Traveling salesman highway stories”, production was low, and the magazine was edited and often printed by myself personally.
The magazine was intended for bathroom reading by our salesmen and nothing more, we also invited contributions of articles, road stories, photographs and restaurant reviews, after 4 monthly issues, we were swamped with fan mail from our men, women and even a few readers who picked up the magazine by accident when they were left behind at truck stops and motels, One such motel even offered to sponsor the magazine in turn for a full page advertisement which included a map and a coupon for a free drink upon arrival.
One of the highest praised contributors was the inspiration for the magazine, he often sent his thoughts to us on everything from life on the road to “What Radio stations to avoid in Utah”, to his famous recipe, a cure for the crabs when all you have to use is a tube of toothpaste, a pocketknife and a lighter.
What follows is the last submission sent to us.
-October 7th, 1989
PROLOGUE
The rules of traveling salesmen
As a traveling salesman I have learned that there are three things you must have in order to make a sale, the first rule, you must look good, nobody is going to sell stocking caps or salad dicers or a nifty new vacuum cleaner from somebody who does not look good.
The second rule, you must talk the talk, I don’t remember how many times a junior salesman knocked onto a door trying to sell a set of steak knives to somebody, and then not make a sale because they don’t know how to attract someone.
The third rule, you must be prepared for every possible question or request that may come your way, for example, if you are selling a new bagel cutter that is nothing more than a hunk of plastic and tinfoil with a jazzy name on it for the low price of 11.95, and the bitty of an old lady at the door asks if there is a lifetime guarantee, you need to be ready to sweeten the pot, old ladies like National Geographic, offer them at no extra charge, a special subscription to national geographic (Really nothing more than an extra issue you have laying in your car), and an added bonus of a state of Ohio commemorative coffee mug so she can enjoy some tea with her bagel. These mugs can be acquired at nearly any car wash, mall, info desk and gas station within the country, if those don’t sell your nifty bagel cutter to an old lady; she obviously has no money and is a waste of your time, you must thank her for her time, give her a free catalogue and hit the bricks.
I Like to follow these rules religiously, though I am balding slightly and my fast food physique can be a problem, I know to suck in my gut, thus giving the illusion that I have a muscular chest and strong shoulders, the look of a person that doesn’t take “No” for an answer, and when it comes to my hair, I refuse to comb over, this is a look for insecure people, people who never sell anything except whole-life insurance to middle aged morons, the best solution to handle thinning hair is to sweep your hair down with the palm of your hands, don’t comb, or the baldness will seep right through and the only work you will be able to do is hustle kids at the arcade games you installed into arcades personally. Talking good is important, now I don’t mean, proper phrasing of words is important, sometimes you want to avoid talking like an English professor, it scares some of the more stupid okies you run into that jump at the opportunity to buy your singing bass decoration (it is also a good idea to select the right area to hock certain items, example: you wouldn’t sell political commentary magazines to the folks you would sell fart spray and gag gifts to.) but the way you talk makes people buy, if you’re selling car parts, talk shop, there are magazines in most grocery stores that have magazines with the appropriate lingo for a certain theme, and the best location to find the lingo would be in the letters and correspondents columns, remember, these are the folks you are trying to sell to.
Finally it is important for me to be prepared for any possible situation, keeping various items filed away in the seats of my car, various magazines, files, a float of change tucked away under my seat, and of course, my trusty tape recorder, if I have and idea, presto, it is stored away in a micro cassette.
My recorder has two settings, slow record, so your tape will last twice as long, and audio blackout, whenever there is no talking, the recorder will pause automatically until somebody speaks, so you could record all day, and with an auto flip function that will automatically switch sides on the tape, you could go forever, not knowing you are recording only to find a tape full of ideas and low batteries.
So it was a good fortune for me one Sunday as I was heading home from a cross-country trip, that I was fortunate to have my recorder when I met Mr. Nobody, the man who had seen it all.
CHAPTER 1
The day I met nobody.
I was on my way home, I had just finished a cross country trip to sell portable FM radios that can fit in your ear, you would be surprised how many idiots will lap up the chance to give themselves an ear infection by jamming a radio in their ear, and if its true what they say about cell phones, the whole tumor thing, it is probably true with the radios too, I had taken the initiative of acquiring a higher commission by changing the sticker price on the radios from $5.99 to anywhere as high as ten dollars, sure the poor sap could pick up these radios at any dollar store or flea bin in town, but I think they buy the stuff anyway because they are lonely, sad people with no friends who would be willing to fork out a couple of extra bucks to have me in their company, if only for a couple of minutes, every now and then I would receive a tip, just for being so nice (that’s why you have to look and talk good, people don’t want to be bullied into buying something, they want to be seduced), it was all in a days work.
With a nice commission at hand and the extra cash from the sale of a thousand marked up ear radios I was swimming in enough cash to enjoy the fruit of life for the next little while, I had just pulled into a gas station to have a look at the bottom of my car as I had accidentally run over a large rock in the middle of the road and I had seemed to have a steady decline in my gasoline level. I had gotten out of my car to check when I heard a ruckus from the tuck shop built into the gas station, apparently an old man had been causing trouble by trying to throw away merchandise without paying for it, the clerk, a fat hillbilly of a man got extremely angry and proceeded to chase away the old man with a broom in his one hand, and a .357 magnum in his other hand, the old man, who seemed to be in good shape as he began to run down the highway, was scared away.
After all the fireworks ended, I reached for the gas pump to fill up the tank when ultimately realizing that I forgot to look at the bottom of my car, where sure enough, there was a leak the size of a lime shaped quarter, I had been dumping gasoline for the past ten miles. The mechanic at the station, another fat hillbilly, took a look at the hole,
“You hit that damn rock about ten miles back?”
“Yeah”
“Figures, that damn thing is responsible for most of my business!” Damn, this guy was good I would give him that, he had a great sting, stick a rock in the middle of the road and wait, I’m sure that he was going too charge me upwards of two hundred dollars to repair this leak that could be fixed in a city where mechanics line the street for fifty bucks,
“I figure it’s gonna cost ya, ohh . . .” that fat hillbilly looked me up and down to see that I was nicely dressed, and my car, with the exception of the hole, was in pretty good shape.
“Five hundred”
“Five hundred?”
“That’s what I said city boy, now you could go somewhere else, but there ain’t a gas station or a garage for ‘bout 80 miles” I looked at that fat piece of crap, he was better than I thought, he read me like a dirty magazine and he know that I would cough up the dough,
“Nah, I’ll just fix it myself”, I said to him
“What?” he said back to me swallowing his chaw in the process,
“I’ll just give it a patch job with some gum and a road map, it’s an old tick I picked up”
“you can’t do that boy,” he said “that won’t work, you need a big patch, its an expensive job” I knew I would get him to lower his price,
“I’ll patch it for ya for three hundred!”
Hooked.
“But I can patch up with gum and a map for like five bucks”
I was going to reel him in,
“Okay, a hundred!” I felt now that I should leave the man his dignity intact after all I had him in the net and he was exposed, “Sure, but I get a free top up of gas”, I could see some tears in his eyes, he tried to screw a professional screwer and it was biting him in the ass,
“Alright.”
The patch job took about forty-five minutes, I spent this time in the tuck shop where just moments ago, the owner was flashing a piece at an old man, now he was cleaning up the mess, it was batteries, the skinny ones, the “AAA” batteries, they were all over the floor and in the garbage can, also several bottles of ketchup has been thrown on the floor, one had broken open, spilling its contents on the floor like a crime scene. I browsed the rack of magazines checking out mostly the untouched Celebrity gossip rags that were at least five years old, and the wrinkled pornographic magazines with their plastic wrappers removed, it appears that there we no sales on the magazine front and people just browsed, much like me. I bought some shoe polish off the redneck and paused with the intent to buy a pack of cigarettes, maybe I would take it up again, no I wouldn’t, my discipline was good, once the patch job was done, I proceeded to fill my tank, pay the man and take off, first, I went into the direction from where I came to check out that damn rock. It was there, big as life and pointy as hell, it seems that somebody had dug up a part of the road, buried the rock and then hand-paved asphalt over the hold, that rock was in there for good, and so was that garage.
I began to head back towards home, I had gotten a few miles past the station when I saw the old coot that had been chased out of the gas station, he was gray with a beard to match, he seemed very skinny, not from hunger but rather he was made that way, and wouldn’t you know it, he was hitchhiking.
Now as a rule, I don’t normally pick up hitchhikers, damn freeloaders riding for free, they were the lowest form of salesman in the world, but I was in the mood for adventure, I figure any man that would mess up a shop where the keeper was packing a hand cannon must have a few good stories up his sleeve, so I pulled the car over and rolled down the window,
“Where are you headed?”
“That way”, the old man pointed his finger down the road,
“You want a lift?”
“Sure”
The old man got into the car, and we took off towards the horizon.
CHAPTER 2
The eccentric Mr. Nobody
I was trying to make conversation with this old man for the past ten minutes, but had no such luck, he was stubborn, I decided to introduce myself, he didn’t seem interested in conversation.
“I got a couple of magazines in the back seat if you want,”
The hitchhiker looked in the back seat of the car, eying the volume of magazines, he reached back for a readers digest and flipped to the ‘laughter is the best medicine’ section and began laughing,
“Funny joke?” I asked, and then he shut up, not a peep and read some more. I decided to start another conversation,
“So, what are you doing in the middle of nowhere?”
“I am on a journey” these were his first words he had spoken aside from, “that way” and “Sure”.
“Oh, where to?”
“Oh, someplace far”
“Well I’m headed to . . .”
“I know where you are going” the old man said
“Oh yeah” I replied with a bit of sarcasm,
“Yes, and I’m going to the same place”
“Okay”, I said puzzled by his remarks, then I noticed he was not wearing his seatbelt, and I was not going to get a ticket on his account
“Hey friend, you gotta buckle up, it’s the law”
“Don’t worry, I have immunity, besides, seatbelts kill”, I felt like i was sitting next to Ralph Nader here, this old man claims that he can break the law, and not buckle up.
“So what’s your name friend?” I asked him,
“Nobody,” he replied
“Okay, don’t tell me your name” I said back to him, now I kind of regret picking up this old fart.
“Nobody is my name”
“Oh, well Mr. Nobody, where are you from?” I candidly asked him, I felt that this conversation was slowly starting to roll.
“far away”
“What do you do?” I figured this was going to be interesting, I would then find out that this question would be the one that changed the world as I see it.
“I am in the right place at the right time, that’s my job”. The yarn he then proceeded to weave would make me thank god I forgot to turn off my tape recorder.
CHAPTER 3
Nobody knows Noah Boaddy better than Mr. Nobody
Mr. Nobody seemed more than eager to tell his story; he started by telling me his real name, Noah, Noah Boaddy.
Apparently Noah Boaddy was born in the year 1901, on the exact same day that president McKinley was assassinated, despite having the handicap of being over nintey years old, he looked about sixty-five. His family were unknown farmers in a town I had never have heard of, well actually, he wouldn’t tell me, what he would tell though was that he was the middle of five children, his mother died giving birth to the youngest. His father quickly remarried once it was learned that his crop was valuable.
Noah’s father grew plants for Chinese immigrants, when dried the leaves of the plants could be crushed and made into a very relaxing tea, however the bud of the plant, which was not as popular then as it is now, had a psychotropic effect leading to a mellow sensation once ingested either by consumption or inhalation, the bud would become famous in later years and be known as reefer, then pot, then weed to the modern folk of today. The family saw no value in the bud of the plant and often-discarded wagonloads of them as there were only so many required for growing the next seasons crop.
A pre-aristocratic family had long ago discovered the sensations delivered from the bud of the plant and upon the discovery of a farmer’s ability to grow the plant better then every farmer in the country led one of the more trashy yet seductive family members desire him. The new wife quickly took over the home making a very nice habitat for the children despite her constant glassy state from her hemp diet. Noah, who was seven at the time of the marriage was the only child to really be welcome with open arms to the socialites gatherings and his step-mother’s father, a wealthy industrialist, made sure that Noah’s intelligence was stimulated so that he may one day take over the companies built by his adoptive grandfather, as the rest of the family members near to the old man, though were all high in society, but were often described by him as “a Pill”.
When Noah was sixteen he was taken to Europe to see the world with his older cousins at the company of their grandfather, the cousins has divulged into the smutty European night life exhausting their spending money on liquor and prostitutes. Noah, having known about the trash and disease that flow through the European prostitutes, stayed clear away, opting to consume his time with art, technology and the occasional gambling venture with his grandfather, in which they lost several hundred dollars in a game of poker, it was in Europe that Noah and his grandfather saw the future, there was a film being played, a rather silly story of a man playing a cowboy whom was saving a damsel in distress, as Noah and the old man watched the film, they heard something that had never been heard in a movie before, dialogue.
Now the picture itself contained no audio, however there was a stage in front of the screen where several actors were reciting the lines that could not be captured by conventional industry equipment of the time, and another man sat at a table with coconuts, chains and other props to simulate sound effects, at a point in the movie Noah and his grandfather looked eye in eye and decided, “these movies must talk”. Upon their return to America, minus one cousin who decided to become a drunkard, Noah started his first company with the support of his grandfather’s finances and support.
The task was not easy for Noah, he had employed several scientists, film directors and engineers to attack the issue of dialogue in film, the first four months of Noah’s seventeenth year were spent with a private tutor and a new family of problem solvers. The first test was to place a make-shift microphone close to the actors, and as the film recorded the microphone captured audio that was captured onto a phonograph which could be played at the same time as the movie, trouble was, some shorts were much longer than the four minute phonograph they recorded, this was Noah’s first disappointment but was encouraged by grandfather who reminded him that his failures are really nothing more than invitations to try again.
It took Noah several years, but he discovered the solution to the problem, by accident. This would be the first of the many of his adventures that would lead to his first disaster at the world’s fair in 1929.
CHAPTER 4
Worlds fair of 1929, the future of humankind
Noah had accidentally discovered a way to draw the audio of a movie directly onto the film, and he would become a millionaire, from the moment Al Jolson yelled out the words “you ain’t seen nothing yet”, every film company had paid Noah for his patented “Audioscope” to produce several hundred “talkies” despite early protests of silent star Charlie Chaplin, Noah met with Chaplin, and upon a dinner and a chat, Chaplin decided that even he would like to do a talkie.
There was pandemonium for Noah, at 27 years old he was rich, good looking and had seen every continent on the planet including a trip to the north pole. He was now ready to settle down and start a family, his mission began December 30th 1928 and ended January 1st of 1929 when he met a beautiful dancer with the Zeigfeld follies. Their marriage lasted, well lets just say that the courtship was longer, Noah quickly began to hate his bride and they quickly divorced, he married again two weeks later, and two weeks after that, he was divorced a second time and if that was not enough for him, four weeks later Noah married a third woman, for six hours, it was at his attourneys office where he heard of an amazing upcoming festival of the future called the “World’s fair” where you could see tomorrow . . . today.
Noah paid the fee and bought a section of the festival to showcase his new idea, color film. He invited his one friend, his aged grandfather, together they enjoyed the sights, machines walking like men, cars that go faster than a team of horses, kitchens that clean themselves and airplanes, Airplanes that take not only a pilot and a navigator, but a body of passengers that go back as far as the eye can see, this was the future, a future Noah would see for miles down the road, and his grandfather would never see as he would die by the hand of a mysterious stranger in the next five minutes, and Noah was alone.
I asked Noah who the man was. As Noah sat, looking through my glove compartment and munching back the granola bar he snagged from my fanny pack, as well as ten dollars from my fanny pack, which I later found out as we checked into a motel for the evening.
CHAPTER 5
Mr. Nobody meets the most evil man in Hollywood.
I checked into the motel with Noah, Normally on the ride home I would drive straight through and nap at truck stops in the comfort and safety of my car, but I figured that the old man should have a nice place to relax, besides I was into his yarn, and wanted to concentrate on listening to it, I don’t think at the time I believed a word he said, but what the hell, it beat the heck out FM radio. As I took my bags out of the car I noticed my tape recorder, still recording. Cool. I changed the tape to preserve what had already been recorded.
We ate Chinese. I hate Chinese, but Noah said he needed the soy, I was willing to take a bullet to hear some more of the story, but I wouldn’t hear it that night, sure I asked, “What happened next?” but the old fart fell asleep, with his eyes open. On several occasions I would check him to see if he was still alive, he was, and in the morning as we pulled out of the motel, he continued the story.
NOAH:
I had seen my grandfather dead for no apparent reason, the man who had raised me since I was seven was dead, and I would wander through the world, famous and rich and nowhere to go, I began to drink heavily and wander my way into classy whore houses and movie houses, I could not figure out why grandfather was killed, he had never done anybody wrong, he was a businessman, that’s it. He ran companies that improved the country, stuff that we would see at the world’s fair, was this stuff so dangerous that a mysterious man in a black cloak would put a bullet through his head, and who was this man whom I now loathed, this vermin in black, I would never know, he creeped up, he covered his face with his cloak and he shot through it with his handgun, With all the noise going on, it took a while to realize that shots had even been fired, by this time, the man whom I had only glanced at as he passed us had already been far away, and had discarded his cloak in a nearby trash can, I would never find this man, at least until I found him by accident in a theater when I was invited by universal pictures to view the Hollywood premire of the new horror film, Dracula.
I took my seat, I ate my popcorn, the film began, the scenery was wonderful and the music haunting and the star, Bela Lugosi was haunting, his eyes were familiar, and then as he lifted his cape over his nose and I saw it. This man, this actor was the man who killed my grandfather. I knew it was him, there was no doubt. I looked around the theater to see if he was there, and he was, right up front, I could tell by the back of his head, the bastard was smoking a cigar, his legs were up on the seat in front of him, what was I to do?, the man of the minute was the man who killed my mentor, I could kill him right now, but how? I knew, I would follow him, follow him home and kill him with my bare hands, and follow him home I did. He partied afterwards sucking back much brandy and bantering in a tounge that, for the life of me I could not understand a word of. I followed him to the bathroom, he ranted and raved in the toilet as he had a bladder infection, he went back to partying and finally made his way home.
Lugosi lived in a crappy house, it stunk bad of human odor, which wafted out the window where I was watching him. He began to turn in when I decided to make my move, I crawled through the window, not making a peep, I snuck through the kitchen and past the bathroom, I was outside the bedroom when I heard the sound, it was static, and beeps. Lugosi awoke and got out of his bed, in shock I began to hide, Lugosi worked his way to his closet where he opened the door to a glowing radio.
“Hollyvood here” Lugosi yelled into the mike, his voice seemed different, his accent muddled, it did not sound Hungarian, he sounded, German.
“this is phoenix”
“about time, I have been going out of my fucking mind here, did you get ze package?”
“today, we are decoding it now, good work!”
“when can I come home to my land?” Lugosi said.
“You can’t we need more packages on the state of Hollywood, keep at it”
the radio went dead and Lugosi went back to bed. I knew he was now more than just a killer, he was a spy, I wouldn’t kill him tonight, if he was taking orders to kill, somebody was giving them, and by god I would find out who they were . . . And kill them.
CHAPTER 6
Cinema secrets
I was getting into Noah’s story it was total crap, but I didn’t care, Bela Lugosi was a Nazi spy, it was kind of funny. And Noah kept on spinning.
NOAH:
It helps to be a pioneer in the film industry, that is how I discovered what our Nazi friend was up to, he was sending tactical information on the united stated armed forces, big stars are often invited to military bases as a sign of good public relations. Lugosi, Hollywood’s new big star would visit bases all over the country and then send tactical information back home.
How did he do it? Jesus, I didn’t know at first, but then I figured it out, his eyes, and those evil eyes that gazed into the camera and into my soul. He was sending messaged through his eyes, the way he stared, and the way his eyes shot open was code, a code pre designed by a pre-revolutionary Nazi power. When Lugosi’s movies played in Germany, nazi central intelligence would have to do nothing more than go to the movie and decode the details of the United States defense they would hope to one day take over. This son of a bitch had the audacity to come to my country into wide open arms, taking away a job from one of our people in the height of a great depression, and his only purpose was to bring us down, would he get away with it? Not without a fight, in fact, once I knew enough about his operation, I would kill him.
Lugosi got famous, funny thing was, he didn’t get rich. Every kid was afraid of that evil man, but if they knew what he was really up to, they would be even more afraid, after a month of tailing him, I learned that his superior would visit our country next month, I had to get closer.
* * * * * * * * * * *
“How did you get closer?” I asked Noah, he replied,
“Not now, I’m hungry”, I hate Noah’s timing, he wants to eat at the good part of the story, I tried to ask him in the diner what happened next, but he didn’t say a peep, he just lapped up his soup and watched the TV in the diner.
CHAPTER 7
Nobody and Bela Lugosi
Editors note:
I feel at this time it is important to note that a bulk of the next chapter has been fabricated for continuity, it appears that Mr. Boaddy had discovered that the traveling salesman had a tape recorder in the car, however we cannot confirm that Mr. Boaddy was aware that it was recording, from what we can gather, at some point into the dialogue, Noah had spotted the recorder, and removed the batteries, he subsequently disposed of the recorder minus the tape which was obviously kept and mailed to my offices with the rest of the source material taping resumed as Noah and the traveling salesman set out on the road the next day, I may also wish to point out that the salesman at some point in time, had purchased a new recorder, this time opting to purchase a smaller micro cassette recorder as opposed to the standard tape recorder he was using, he also took the opportunity to record a cliffs-notes version of what was ommited, it is from that entry on tape five from which we composed this chapter.
NOAH:
I had spoken to an acquaintance who Lugosi well, (not as well as he thought though), he made arrangements to have the two of us bump in to each other at a party and be formally introduced to Bela, I recall it like it was yesterday. Bela was taller than I had remembered, but the moment we looked eye into eye, he knew who I was, I was the grandson of the man he had murdered at the world’s fair, I tried to keep my cool, don’t let him know I know, it must have worked, he smiled and then shook my hand, the bastard shook my hand and invited me to a drink, and I had accepted his invitation, I would get close to him, find his superior, the man who passed down the order to kill my mentor, and then kill them, I didn’t care if they were all under the command of Adolph Hitler, that queer little chancellor of Germany, hell, if Hitler passed down the order, I myself would end his life, even if I had to break through his crazy little army.
Lugosi and I became men around the town, we made appearances at parties, I helped him get ready for performances, and on occasion I would pick him up off the floor when he drank too much, getting close had worked, I had found out enough information to know when his leader would be coming to Hollywood, August 10, 1933.
CHAPTER 8
August 10, 1933
Editors note:
Recording commenced at this time.
NOAH:
August 10, 1933, this day would be the day I had my revenge on those who killed my grandfather, I would start with this visiting man, the one who placed the order. Obviously, because I was not a Nazi, I would not be able to be in attendance at this joyous reunion for the Reich, but I would not be too far away, you would be surprised over what a wealthy man could get away with in 1933, though we were in the middle of a great depression that sent fellows like Tom Joad across the country to find a better place, and the world was on the brink of war, it never showed here, Hollywood was the place to be, you could get rich, rub elbows with the stars, or at least see one on a daily basis, and the man who put the sound in film could get away with murder, at least I think I could, better be safe than sorry, no cold blooded murder where I could be seen, need a cover and a plan.
I purchased a cushy limousine and a dapper looking suit with cap, dark glasses, fake nose and phony moustache, my cover would be a limousine driver. I parked several houses away, close enough to see what was going on, and close enough that if they were to look they could see me, but they would have to know I was there to be looking.
The commandant arrived in a limousine, my plan had worked better than I had thought, for the Limo, down to the last detail, was exactly like mine, what luck. I gave the other driver a two thousand dollar tip if he agreed to drive away and let me do his run, he accepted the offer and upon transaction of the funds, he pissed off, and I was ready to go to phase two of my plan.
Lugosi and the commandant sat for several hours, spying upon maps and photographs, they laughed at pictures as if the people in them were really there and could feel it, they ate dinner and as darkness fell they played drinking games. Lugosi seemed desperate to satisfy the commandant and kept the liquor coming out, one thing I could say about those German spies, they could hold their booze. At the early hours of the morning, the commandant departed the house, I got into character, I pulled the limo up to the walkway and even opened the door for the son of a bitch. As I pulled myself into the drivers seat, I knew what would come next, it would be a matter of time before he would notice that the car was not going to the docks for the 9am take off to Japan, I would drive towards the Las Vegas desert and shoot him in the head, he would have to be knocked unconscious first before I drove too far. As I approached the turn to the shipyard, I turned to cold cock him, but it appeared he had been knocked out already, by vodka and brandy, it was like buying a turkey in the store, he came dressed already, and you just had to stick him in the oven.
We drove into the desert of Las Vegas, the old man did not make a peep, we descended deeper into the desert, this was mind you, years before the Las Vegas strip was developed, no casinos, no hotels, no fountains, no water. Period. We got there and I opened the car doors, dragging the commandant out into the dirt, he awoke, pissed off and yelling he did not know my intentions until he saw my handgun aim at him, his screams of anger had suddenly become those of fear, as I laid the first shot into his shoulder, he jumped up and started to run, I chased after him with a few bullets, the first few missing him all together and finding new homes in the hood of my car. The next few bullets grazed bits of his body, his ear, his hand, his shin, the last bullet lodged well into the small of his back, he fell to the ground like a ton of bricks, squirming in pain, a walked to him and turned around his body so he could see me kill him, I pointed the gun at his head and squeezed on the trigger, I could see him squint in fear, the hammer cocked. SNAP! Nothing. no bullets, nothing, empty. The old man began to laugh at me; he thought he would live today, wrong. I turned my gun backwards and proceeded to bash his head in for the next eight minutes, his face turned to a pulp at one minute, he died at four minutes, at eight minutes, he was dead enough to leave in the desert to rot.
After I was done, I knew what was next, kill Lugosi, I would have done it that very day, but my car would not start, the diagnosis, bullet holes in the engine, I would have to walk. The problem with the desert is that it is dry, it is hot, and I had no idea where I was going, not to mention the only fluids I had were so packed with alcohol that I was stumbling after an hour of wandering.
SALESMAN:
How long were you stuck in the desert?
NOAH:
years.
CHAPTER 9
Noah Boaddy faces almost death and ultimate opportunities in the desert
NOAH:
I was stumbling for what seemed like ten hours, as the desert sun beat down upon me, I started to hallucinate, I wish I ate something the day before, I began seeing flying ladies, dancing cowboys, amazing winged creatures covering the sky and cockroaches, the cockroaches piled upon each other and reached so high they touched the sun, as they began to burn away, my vision went. Everything had now become a bleached shade of blue, even the cars that pulled up behind me, these cars were packed with people, soldiers, businessmen, scientists, and trucks followed, trucks filled with equipment, I was approached by some people, they were speaking in tongues, they carried me towards a shelter that was being put up, the coolness of the shade stung my skin as I was soon hydrated and my mind came back and crawled back into my head.
Who were these people who saved me? What was all this equipment? Someone asked me if I was an investor in the project, I said “yes”, but what project, what was going on, my brain was still mush. The shelter became dark and everyone sat down in a makeshift theater. A film began to roll.
“I invented that!” I said to the man beside me, he looked funny at me. I started to watch the film, which was quite terrible, it was nothing more than a scientist in a coat talking about preserving life in the threat of immanent war and how men could be broken up at the atomic level and bounce around for as much as five hundred years and be put back together looking the same they did when they were first broken apart. The film ended and people started to drink champagne, I was feeling friendly so I joined in, the folks then moved to these chairs with funny switches on them, not to be the party pooper, I took a seat. We all got hooked up to a giant battery, I didn’t know what was happening now, and maybe it was a new fad, the “Lets get hooked up to a giant battery” phase. A scientist approached us all and said proudly, “see you in twenty years!”,
“What? I said “Twenty what?”. Some machines started, and my vision went again, everything disappeared. I had inadvertently volunteered to be frozen in time for twenty years. What luck!