An Almost Fluorescent Universe

By Austin C. Slawinski

A look at the strange, seemingly random happenings that make up this almost fluorescent universe. Marijuana, music, and madness. A trying tale of modern mystery and ancient secrets. The illumination of once-hidden grand wonder. A soft kiss to spark a lust for life and adventure. An organic fate or grand scheduling? Haunting thoughts fill the lost souls.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503568549

Austin C. Slawinski

Austin C. Slawinski is an American writer with an unadulterated love for life, freedom, and the universe. Born in 1993, Austin enjoys driving, listening to loud music, drinking cold beverages on hot beaches near beautiful bodies of water and stargazing. An Almost Fluorescent Universe is Austin's first book.

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Copyright © 2015 by Austin C. Slawinski.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2015907301

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-5035-6853-2

                Softcover        978-1-5035-6855-6

                eBook             978-1-5035-6854-9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Illustrations and cover art by Austin C. Slawinski

Rev. date: 07/14/2015

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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Contents

Chapter One: Ivan in the Rain

Chapter Two: Marvin at Home

Chapter Three: Ivan and the Law

Chapter Four: Marvin at the Alley Kitten

Chapter Five: Virlo’s First Capture

Chapter Six: Ivan at the Station

Chapter Seven: Meeting in Apollo

Chapter Eight: Ivan and Marvin go for a cruise

Chapter Nine: Proteus meets The Singularity

Chapter Ten: Virlo’s Second Capture

Chapter Eleven: Ivan and Marvin join the team

Chapter Twelve: Virlo and The Almost Fluorescent Scientists

Chapter Thirteen: What god made this?

Fly Theory

endless jungle (cosmic)

Gravity fell asleep,

deranged, they ran through the universe

like lions, with their sharp, white teeth

echoing off blue sapphire amulets,

gifts from people of the Nile.

But the king of the jungle has met his match,

when the jungles are endless,

the fear is relentless.

bike%20in%20the%20rain%20ink%20drawing%20.jpg

Chapter One

Ivan in the Rain

Even as the rain falls down, my bicycle is more modern than my vocabulary; the words I hear in the air today are lazy and rude, but that’s besides the point. Thanks to the rain, my path is wet and littered with puddles, I do my best to avoid them but these sunglasses aren’t helping, as this rain is not helping the cherry at the end of my now wet joint. Suddenly my ears are struck by a blast of thunder. I nearly crash my red bike, not that a few more scratches would do anything to it’s, as some would say, but not me, poor appearance. Following the rules of nature, Zeus throws down a mighty bolt of lightning. He is undoubtably angry with his son and will more than likely take that anger out on us. So be it, there isn’t a god in the sky that could keep me from Tuesday Nights Without The Lights, I know the lanes will be crowded, but Marvin should be there already, and with any luck he was able to secure Lane 19.

I can see the red light that gleams far above the bowling alley on a wooden pole, like a small radio tower, I’d guess it’s about thirty feet past the unusually high roof. I don’t pedal any faster though, for two reasons: one, Ivan Baul rushes for no man, woman, or cause, and two, I don’t want to be winded and sweaty when I get there, so I take another toke and glide like a giant tortoise out for a grand oceanic cruise.

The roads are slow, occasionally headlights will either illuminate my path or blind my eyes, which are adjusted to the darkness making them as sensitive as the elephant in the room. Coasting, I turn my head to look over my shoulder, there is nothing but I can’t help but feel followed, like the prey of a desperate mountain lion. Off in the distance, some madman just shot the loudest gun in present day America, illegally and probably at a majestic wild horse, wait no, that was thunder.

Dear god, the storm is nearly right on top of us, says a voice in my head similar to the voice of the late doctor in the depths of a freak out. Another toke.

The single turn of an old fashioned European siren, an uneven turn at that, slow at first then rushed to the finish. Blue lights, red lights, it’s the colors of the police. They obviously don’t understand what day it is or where I’m going. They obviously have no respect for a modern man and his bicycle. Well they won’t get me without a struggle, still pedaling I drop the joint to the wet ground and look straight ahead.

Sir, please seise pedaling and steer off the road and onto the grass! A feminine male voice orders through a megaphone.

Well, which one is it, do you want me to seise pedaling, hence seising my ability to properly control my movements, or do you want me to maneuver onto the grass, which will require pedaling, for control, do you follow? I yelled back over my left shoulder, still pedaling.

There’s an unexpectedly long pause. If you ask me, there are far too many cops in this town, luckily this one appears to be a clown, something that isn’t too uncommon.

Sir, would you- THUNDER- the clown lets out a whelp, similar to the whelp a new born puppy would let out if he or she were unexceptionally frightened. But this clown isn’t a new born pup, he’s a protector of the peace, keeper of the law, armed to the teeth. He must have dropped the megaphone, because there was a scream of feedback through the speaker.

LIGHTNING.

Sir! I could basically feel his frightened, racing heart beats, I’d like you to stop your…. uhh… vehicle and put your hands where I can see them!

Can you not see them now? I asked, taking my hands momentarily off the handlebars, waving them in the air, I’m kind of in a hurry, what’s wrong with conversing in this fashion?

He changes angles, positioning his clown car right next to me, as if he wanted to race.Sir! he yells, then honks his horn, Sir! another honk.

THUNDER. I look over and see a disorientated look on his face, Sir? in a puzzled voice, can you hear me? I’d like to ask you a couple questions.

LIGHTNING.

I don’t have time for your questions, clown, I was expected at Lane 19, I check my right wrist for my cheap watch, 8 minutes ago. No time. Go ask someone else. Someone who has time. I pedal faster, forgetting the ever resulting sweat momentarily, but not for long.

But sir, you’re the only one in town who can answer these questions… It’s about this storm.

What is he trying to do?

No bullshit, clown, I glance in his directions for second, then return to pedaling, if I stop and you try any of your funny business on me, by the hammer of Thor, I will write a strongly worded letter to the chief of police complaining about my displeasurable encounter with you. Just then a fitting roar of thunder let loose.

Sir! he honks, pauses and then honks again, this time longer.

LIGHTNING.

Sir! This is important!

Filthy fucking fine, I slam on my rusty brakes, they squeal like a fat pig surrounded by hungry lions. I place the soles of my blue and white worn out, hand-me-down Adidas high-top shoes on the ground. In times like these, it’s best to remove my delinquent, outlaw face and apply my razor sharp, too busy, better than you, lawyer face. Checking my left wrist for my classy, black and gold watch, where the numbers and bordering circle are gold and everything else matte black. It’s fake but this clown doesn’t know that.

Make this fast, it’s Tuesday Nights Without The Lights down at the Alley Kitten and my buddy’s waiting for me, I say through the passenger window of his dripping wet clown car.

Chapter Two

Marvin at Home

My childhood best friend, a Mickey Mouse alarm clock, reads 4:32 PM, but I know it’s about three hours slow, as a result of several power outages and time changes, so it’s actually 7:32. Getting out of bed, I step on a what can only be described as pain. I want to scream, but my music is so loud nobody including myself would hear it. I walk over to the origin of the sound waves, a late 70’s turntable, receiver duo and turn the volume down, calming the storming ocean of air waves. The fish were starting to complain, there’s nothing I can do, I say as if I had to explain my actions to a restless pack of wild electric eels, who just want to party and have no respect for their surroundings or the creatures populating said surroundings. With the volume down, I can finally hear the thunder to the lightning I’ve been periodically seeing through the half opened blinds of my second floor window. It’s getting close, the time between the flashes has gradually decreased.

I should be leaving, I told Ivan I’d try and get there around 7:45 so our lane, the lovely lane 19, wouldn’t be claimed by a foursome of elderly women who always try and arm wrestle us for it. The sad part is, if it came down to that, they’d undoubtably win. On more than one occasion I’ve seen their leader, Ruth, overhand throw a bowling ball more than half way down their neighboring lane. I need to leave, but not without Bertha.

Alison! Have you seen Bertha? I yell out as I search on hands and knees in my dark closet. She’s got to be around here somewhere, I say to myself.

Have I seen what? the voice of a middle aged woman yells as she walks upstairs.

Bertha, ma. Have you seen her? I put her on the kitchen table, then you must have moved her or something, I reply with a hint of blame but no anger.

"Marvin, I don’t know what or who Bertha is, but I’m almost positive it doesn’t belong on the kitchen table that’s where-" I burst in, interrupting her and the words flowing out of her mouth.

"Bertha? My bowling ball. The bowling ball that I scored a 247 with last year down in Grand Rapids at the Big Pins, Bigger Balls invitation only tournament with Ivan and Uncle Henry?"

"Oh, your bowling ball. Yeah, I remember seeing it on the table and thinking, that doesn’t belong there, but I don’t know where it went. I’m pretty sure you moved it somewhere Marv, remember Saturday when Robin had her girlfri- she pauses trying to not sound uncomfortable as she chokes on her words, when Robin had Alexia over for dinner? I thought you brought it up here," as she points downward then leaves my room.

No time, I say as I turn off the light to my room and then jog downstairs. I’ll just have to use one of the bowling balls down at the Alley Kitten, and I guess I’ll just have to be fine with contracting every disease known to man and monster.

When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I look out the window of the front door and see a flash of lightning, I laugh, fuck, Ivan is riding that red garage pile bike in this, I say to myself sinisterly.

I turn left and walk into the living room. There’s a movie playing on the TV, Robin and Alexia are sitting on a couch in the back corner of the room.

Robin pauses the movie, where ya going, Marv?

It’s Tuesday Nights Without The Lights down at the Alley Kitten.

But it’s Wednesday, she says and looks to Alexia, who nods and confirms the accurate date.

Yeah, but Monday was the first day of Ramadan, so the Alley Kitten wasn’t open. I explain, walking across the room I check my orange pocket watch, 7:40, have you seen Bertha? I glance around the room looking for my bowling bag.

Yeah, mom put it out in the garage. She said it didn’t belong inside, Robin says with a smile on her face.

It doesn’t belong inside? Are you fucking kidding me? I start to walk back across the room but then I remember that I’m already late, so I turn around again and to the room say, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me, it doesn’t belong inside! What a joke.

I think I remember her telling us it was because it smells like cigarette smoke and sweat, recalls Alexia.

Of course it smells like cigarette smoke and sweat, that’s the smell of the Alley Kitten, that’s the smell of fucking success, I yell pridefully, I’ve got to go, enjoy the movie, ladies.

Heading to the door, I check my orange watch again, 7:41. I hear Robin yell something back to me, but her words drown in the growing distance between us.

As I high-step through the kitchen and spin into the laundry room to put on my shoes, my nose is filled with the scent of freshly burnt marijuana, god damn, Robin and Alexia smoked and they didn’t tell me, those bitches!

I open the door and jump down the flight of three wooden stairs,