33 Trash-scriber Dreams II

The tatooing continued until Joe was covered completely on the front and Jimbo took a beer break. Joe stood up to walk around because his legs had grown numb from sitting. He began to look around the shop at some of the scattered parts he couldn't really say came from what. There was small engine on the floor that may have been scavenged from something the size of a push lawnmower it was covered in grease the same as everything else in the shop.

"That right there is a Briggs and Griggs 6hp two stroke motor. It has one reciprocating cylinder set on an ecentric shaft. It's highly reliable and can run for hours on a gallon of gas. It's going to be the heart of the skeeter bike."Jimbo said as he popped the top of his Onagaga beer.

"What's a skeeter bike?" Joe's curiousity was piqued.

"It's a little microbike made from junk lying around. It's tradition for a Junk Gypsy child to help build his first bike. I thought we could slap one together as a learning experience." Jimbo was starting to get excited.

"Nahhh I'll pass sounds like way too much work." Joe walked away from the engine looking disgusted.

"All you have to do is pass me my tools.

Jimbo was pleading with Joe.

"Please I really wanted to do this I havent built a skeeter bike in 40 years. I'll even make sure we put the same size tires on it. I'll paint it whatever color you want."

"Fine I can pass you a ratchet or something I guess. Joe said appearing bored

"I bet I can talk the Scholar into painting on a noise amplification rune." Three spoke while perusing a tattered copy of Juggs magazine she had picked up out of the oil rag bucket 'Damn look at the tits on this one... How does she stand up that chain mail bikini has to be chafing her nipples.'

Joe was pretty happy at the prospect of finally seeing something magical. However he knew

from previous experience there had to be a catch to this. "Ok so how did The Scholar come by this ancient wisdom?" Joe asked with cynicism on his face.

"He saw it in the classifieds section in the back of one of my Juggs magazines." The Tinker responded snidely. "He was looking through the escorts section but somebody in editing accidentally listed an inscriber under the wrong heading...when he called the toll free number he got a male voice on the other end of the line it said "Whimsical Willie's Inscription on demand one free pattern for first time customers." The Tinker paused to slam down the rest of his beer. " The options were a choice of shimmer sparkles, summon horny imp,or noise amplification."

"I assume he picked the sound amplification rune." Joe stated his assumption getting somewhat more excited.

"Nope he picked the horny imp because he thought he might be able to use it to extort money from people" Three said barely biting back her laughter.

Jimbo swallowed his chaw of tobacco as he put it in coughing for a short time afterwards.

"When he got the scroll off of the squirrel that showed up at the general store that we made the call from he was so excited he activated the scroll immediately." Jimbo paused looking at Three gesturing for her to continue the story. He was wheezing with laughter and out of breath.

"That imp humped his leg for a full hour before it finally dissappeared. White Tides kept trying to recreate the pattern with some of the juices he strained out of his pants after some experimentation he stumbled upon a working sound amplification rune." Three finished the tale while giggling.

Joe took all this in while laughing himself.

"So you think we need to make this skeeter bike louder?"

"Louder is always better!" Jimbo yelled with gusto. "It's Herly's unofficial motto. Pretty much the creedo of all Junk Gypsies."

"Jimbo any chance of me getting a beer? My throat is starting to feel a little dry."

*On a side road in Shawnee Province.

Ethel was riding hell to leather on her Herly sportster. She was banking deep into the hair pin curves along the asphalt road. Her metal clad knee caps were dragging along the pavement leaving a ferocious trail of sparks in her wake as she exited the turn. 'Damn my gas needle is getting low. It's not been an easy trip, I'm almost where Herman said I should be. Crossing the Chapparal Wastes wasn't easy that pack of plains hyenas almost ran as fast as my bike. The sandstorm that kicked up before I started my way up the mountain on it's arid side.... but I am almost in a comfy bed with a bathroom with heated floors. I imagine that Jimbo has a palace full of serving wenches I'll have to put in their place. I can't wait to enjoy all of the comforts available.' She had finally made it to the main road before her bike stalled out from lack of gas. She was stuck in the middle of nowhere.

She took a breath of the cool spring mountain air. She looked at small folding atlas that she withdrew from a fanny pack on her waist.

'At least 20 miles to Deadhorse according to this atlas if I pace myself I can be there in about 2 hours. What should I do about hiding my bike I don't want any stranger taking it. I suppose I can push it but that would make it closer to 2 and a half maybe 3 hours.' She reached into her panniers on the side of the bike taking out a piss warm Onangaga beer in the can. She grimaced as she drank her first

sip.

'Damn The King for buying stock in Onangaga brewery and making it against the law for us to buy any other beer. Drunkle LaLa got his own little TV gig out of the deal the rest of us got stomach ulcers.'