Gabey Kotter - Chapter 1 - Giants, Squirrels and Love in a Bathroom

General Disclaimer: I started this story on a whim, and the section below was likely written in about an hour. The chapters I post to Blogger have had only the minorest of proof-reading, and will likely be entirely different when I finish the story. Read at your own risk:

Chapter One – Giants, Squirrels and Love in a Bathroom

Saturday came faster than Gabey ever could have imagined, and before he knew it he found himself walking through JFK, a colander full of knives in one hand, and a Captain Smilies Little Tykes Magic Kit (Ages 4 and up, not available in Canada) in the other. He felt like a bit of an ass with the crummy plastic rod that was inside, but frankly where the fuck was he supposed to get a real wand on that short of notice.

As he scanned the flight display in hopes of locating his terminal, Gabey simply could not see Flight 93/4 anywhere. Thinking quickly he flagged down a passing security guard. “Excuse me sir,” he offered politely. “Might you be able to tell me where I can find Flight 93/4?”

Looking thoroughly put off at being forced to stop and interact with someone, the guard glared at Gabey. “You think you’re funny kid?”

“Kid? I’m 47 years old. And I just want to know where my flight is.”

“Listen sport, there ain’t no Flight 93/4. Wait a minute, what do you have in that colander?”

“Umm… they’re for my asthma.”

“Oh, makes sense.” With that, the surly guard continued on his way.

Left to himself, and no better off, Gabey returned his gaze to the display, where he located a flight 934 to London. ‘Asshole was probably drunk when he wrote the letter and dragged the pen,’ he thought. Gabey was beginning to feel attending this school may not be such a great call, but then again it was a free plane ticket, even if it was too crummy old England.

The flight was non-eventful. The in flight movie starred Michelle Rodriguez as a tough-girl, and a baby cried for several hours. Gabey occupied himself thinking about all the painful spells he would learn to cast on people as part of his rise to tyranny.

As Gabey departed the plane he realized he had no fucking clue where to go from there. “I have no fucking clue where to go from here,” he said as he elbowed his way down the aisle and off the plane. All his concern was soon put to rest however, when he spotted the large man-beast waiting for him at the end of the tunnel.

The man was huge, with a dirty, matted beard, and was clad in a fox-skin loincloth. In his giant hands was a sign which read “The Gabey Kotter.” On seeing Gabey his face lit up, and he extended a meaty paw out for the shaking. “Greetin’s Gabey, name’s Ingrid.”

“Come again,” Gabey queried.

“Yeah, I know. It’s a woman’s name.”

“Catch a lot of shit for it?”

“Not really. You break a few necks and people stop with the name calling.”

Gabey began to give a small laugh, but upon seeing the man was not joking decided it best not to. Gabey made a mental note; when it came time to raise his army, this was the guy he wanted on his side.

“Well then Gabey, if you’ll just follow me, I’ll be taking you to the Boarshead Express.”

“You know, I go by Gabe. Only my housemates call me Gabey.”

“What’s that Gabey?” The Giant’s neck gave a might crack as he turned to look back at Gabey.

“Never mind. So… do you work at the school?”

“Yeah, I do maintenance. You know, mowing lawns, caring for wild animals, killing rule-breakers. The usual.”

Outside the airport they came to a small piece-of-shit of a car, and Ingrid crammed himself into the driver’s side enthusiastically. Noting the front was entirely occupied by Ingrid’s girth, Gabey threw his things in the back seat and followed suit. Leaning forward, Gabey was about to ask how far the trip would be when Ingrid’s monstrous mitts clapped him on the ears, knocking him out cold.

*****

Groggily Gabey came to, and found himself being violently shaken by Ingrid. Outside the car he could see an ornate station and a long brown train.

“’Bout time you woke up Gabey,” Ingrid huffed, dragging Gabey out of the car. “We’ve been here for 10 minutes already. Sorry about the whole knocking you out thing. Couldn’t let you know where this station is located.”

“Why couldn’t I know where the station is located?”

“Alright, you caught me,” Ingrid smirked, tossing Gabey’s belongings out before hopping back into the front seat. “Anyways, it’s been real. Might want to hurry, train’s leaving.”

Looking behind him Gabey saw the train was indeed in motion, and he scattered to pick up his splayed knives as Ingrid sped away. In a panic, Gabey grabbed the last knife and darted after the train. He made it to the edge of the platform just in time to hop into the doors of the last car. Whew. Story almost ended before it fucking began my dear readers.

The car was empty, save for a lone figure sleeping at the far end. With his crap in tow, Gabey walked down and sat in the seat across from the figure. With a discerning eye, Gabey looked him over. He was young, probably in his late teens, with a messy mop of orange hair. Beside him sat a pot with a hole in it, and a bag of butter knives. The kid was wearing some ratty chef’s robes, and had a sagging chef’s hat perched on his head.

Gabey rode in silence in the car for several minutes before boredom set in. With careful balance on the moving train he positioned himself to give the kid the tea-bagging of a lifetime, when the sleeping mass stirred.

Jarred by the unexpected presence of balls on his chin, the kid emitted a shrill shriek. Content with the results, Gabey sat down again. “Hey kid, the name’s –“

“Gabey Kotter,” the kid shrieked. “You’re Gabey Kotter. I’m… my name is… I’m… Beasley. I’m Don Beasley.”

“Nice to meat you kid, but if you don’t mind my asking, how do you know who I am?”

“Well, because you’re Gabey fucking Kotter, that’s why.”

It made sense to Gabey, so he left it at that.

“Listen up Donnie, I’m gonna me running shit around this place, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll be getting on now, when the getting’s good. You dig?”

“Oh, yeah, I dig. I’m all about the gangsta shit.”

“Good. Now here’s the deal, I’ve got me a hunger. Something fierce. And this,” he grabbed the plastic wand from its box, “ain’t going to help me right about now.”

“Whoa,” Don gasped, “that’s a sweet wand. I just have this stick my mom broke off of a tree.” In his hand was a small gnarled twig, with what appeared to be fungus growing off one end.

“Are you shitting me?”

“I’m kind of poor. Oh, and I have this,” Don added sheepishly as he pulled a near dead squirrel out of his pot.

“Can we eat it?”

“What? No! If you want food you just press this button,” Don pointed at the large button next to him with a picture of a steak on it.

“Don’t give me sass, bitch,” Gabey spat, as he slammed the button with his fist.

“Sorry, sir,” Don offered, slinking back in his seat.

The food cart arrived promptly and Gabey ordered the whole spread. “I’m low right now,” he said to the hairy man pushing the cart. “My friend here’ll get me.”

“But I don’t have any money, I’m poor,” Don moaned.

“Well then you’ll have to pay him another way. Let’s go, to the bathroom with both of you.”

Don looked at Gabey pleadingly, but was met with cold resolve. Sobbing he followed the hairy man to the bathroom at the end of the car.

Content, Gabey sat back to enjoy his meal, but found his pleasure interrupted by the entrance of another teenager, this one a girl with long, wild, brown hair.

“What the fuck do you want?” Gabey asked, not looking up from the turkey sandwich in his hands.

“Are you Ga-“

“I said, 'what the fuck do you want?'”

“My name’s Hermelanie,” she said cheerily. Gabey ate his sandwich. After several minutes of silence, she turned and left. Gabey listened to the sound of her sobbing as it retreated down the hall.

Gabey enjoyed his meal until he felt the tell-tale lurch of the train’s deceleration. Tossing the rest of the food out the window he walked back to the bathroom and pounded on the door. “We’re slowing down Don, might want to wrap it up in there.”

Gabey Kotter and the Sorceror's Throne

I don't really know what possessed me to start writing this story, but I did. I've only written all of a page, and this section will probably be entirely different when I finish (in theory) the story. This hasn't so much as been proofread, so critiques and corrections are more than welcome. Anywho, enjoy. Or don't. No skin off my back. Also, sorry for the split in the letter, Blogger was being a jerk and I had to split it into two files to make it readable.

*****

Gabey Kotter’s eyes fluttered open slowly, as he grunted the grunt of a newly awoken man. The taste of stripper and cheap tequila still hung heavily in his mouth as he sat up, ready for another day eating Hot Pockets and surfing the web for pornography.

“Holy Mother of Cock,” he shouted, as his head’s upward progress was unexpectedly stopped by a protrusion out of the wall. ‘Who put a goddamn shelf above my bed?’ he thought, as his hand felt the bloody gash on his forehead. ‘Unless,’ as his eyes came into focus Gabey realized he was not in his bed, ‘I got drunk and passed out in the pantry under the stairs again.’

Gabey groped blindly in the dark until his hand found the door handle, and he tumbled haphazardly out into the hall. Picking himself up, Gabey stumbled down the hall to the bathroom where he examined his battle wound. The shelf had left a nice cut in the shape of an ‘L’ in the middle of his forehead. “Fuck, that’s gonna leave a scar.”

The smell of bacon caught Gabey’s attention, and so he headed for the kitchen, a large clump of toilet paper pressed to his aching head. In the kitchen Gabey found his housemate Alonso at the stove. Looking away from his frying pan Alonso saw Gabey’s bloody face. “Oh my God Gabey, what happened?”

“Shelf,” Gabey muttered. “Bacon. Now.”

“Oh, of course sweetie,” Alonso said, scooping several strips onto a plate for Gabey. “That’s all for you though, the rest is for my Freddie.”

Fred was Alonso’s life partner. They met after Alonso saw Fred’s band play a gig, and while the law forbade them to get married, they had taken to calling themselves the Dursties, after Fred.

“Oh, and Gabey, you got some mail.”

Gabey grabbed the envelope from the counter as he sat at the table, and biting into several pieces of bacon he tore it open. A tattered looking letter fell out, and with a bemused fascination, Gabey picked it up:

Gabey put down the letter to see Alfonso staring attentively at him. “Well, what did it say?”

Gabey looked at the letter, and after a while decided it likely wasn’t actually self-destructive, rather it was written by a crackpot. Chomping down the last of his bacon Gabey went to the fridge and grabbed a beer. “I’m gonna be a wizard. Or a chef.”

Thank You Congress!

Dear Congress,

Thank you. From the bottom of my heart I want to thank you for what you have done for me.

Recently, you passed a bill with the ultimate goal being to eliminate online poker sites, and the stranglehold they have over this fair country. You have saved me on so many levels, from so many evils. Just think of all the awful things I might have been doing in the coming months if you hadn't stomped out this online poker thing:

- Paying my Rent

- Having electricity and running water

- Owning luxury items like clothing, or shoes

- Paying for gas to drive my car to class

- Eating

Fortunately for me, you have ensured that I will no longer be bothered with all those people who were so fond of handing me piles of cash. Why would I want to earn money from the luxury of my bedroom wearing pajamas and watching 'Yes, Dear' when I can work mindlessly behind a cash register, or better, at a sewing machine making shoes for a nickel a day.

In short, you have made my wildest dreams come true. No longer will I be a slave to my computer, earning money while chatting with friends or eating lunch, now I can go back to having a real job. And not a job like my summer job at camp. Why work a job I can call "enjoyable" or "fulfilling" with people I "enjoy being around" when I can work a job that makes me want to "kill myself" or "kill others" while working with "assholes"?

You are the light of my life Congress, Thank you.

Faithfully yours,
Robert Preston Ingram, Esq.