Challenge #01457-C362: One Exasperating Late Evening in a Recovery Room

in #writing7 years ago (edited)

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"Do you want to explain why you caused mass hysteria and almost created a national incident?"
"You know these things happen when I'm left alone." -- OohLookShiny

"Hwell," sighed Ax'and'l. It was an old sigh. The kind of sigh that had put up with enough crap to make a rocky giant planetoid out of it. "I told you to mind the cargo..."

"And I did. I was. Honest," said Hwell. "I only stepped away t' help this wee lass--"

Ax'and'l moaned automatically. Hwell had a near-catastrophic ability to be interested in young ladies who inevitably lead to trouble.

"--with her luggage," he said pointedly. "It's called being a good citizen. You want me to be a good citizen, right?"

"Within limits," snarked Ax'and'l.

"Well, I wasn't about t' just sit there like a bump on a log, all right? I have hands. I have feet. I have a working moral system..."

"...a predilection to alcohol, an attraction towards dangerous females, a singular knack for finding trouble before it got lost..." continued Ax'and'l.

"It wasn't my fault," wailed Hwell. "It was the big fella who took objection."

Of course he did. Hwell's stories would not be complete without a big fella in there somewhere. Most of the time, this big fella and Hwell became unlikely allies in some vaguely-legal exploit that 'just needed a helping hand for a wee while'. And Ax'and'l would be the one bailing his profitable mammal out of the local jail whilst the big fella and all the profits vanished without a trace.

Fortunately for Hwell Barrow and his disaster curve of a life, his presence kept Ax'and'l earning a healthy profit margin. And the semi-regular fines were simply declared as corporate expenses. Five minutes' exposure to Hwell was all anyone needed to explain why they were corporate expenses.

"Did you ask if she needed help?" droned Ax'and'l.

"Of course I asked, I'm not a barbarian. And I waited for her permission, thank you. She had no objections to me."

"And who was the 'big fella'?"

"She said she didn't want to know him, and that she was emancipated, now. He was trouble, straight up. I tried to tell him I didn't want any, and I was just bein' helpful. And then he gave me a helpin', ya know?"

From the medical and damage reports, a helping of his fists, knees, and elbows. Which caused collateral damage to what happened to be some cargo belonging to the 'big fella'. Which also happened to be smuggling live cheese, a Galactic Society contraband owing to what foreign cheese spores did to station and ship biotas.

The reward for the capture paid for the damages and medical expenses, certainly, but the profit was meagre. "Let me guess," said Ax'and'l. "This 'big fella' came out of nowhere while you were engaged in pleasant conversation?"

"Exactly," said Hwell. "See? I knew you'd understand me."

"I am pondering the profit margin if I hire my own 'big fella' to keep you out of harm's way."

"Pfft," dismissed Hwell. "Where's th' fun in that?"

[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / zurijeta]

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