Copyright 1994(c) STRAIGHT TO L By Buzz Lange "Yes, may I help you?" perked the lovely lady at the desk. "..Uh..Ok.." I answered, stupid after passing through the revolving door. "Whom do you wish to see?" she crossed, keeping me ever on track. "..See?.." I began, reaching deep into my erased memory for some grip on just why it was that I was in there. "..Who?" "Yes, sir, whom did you wish to see?" She deftly slid the tasty roster of fools that were incarcerated in the office building over in front of me. She smiled. "..Ah.." I shifted my gaze from her porcelain facade and looked down at the miniature billboard that was sliding in my direction. The letters on the board stood out and danced before me, all the colors and shapes were screaming for my attention. My eyes blinked. They were fatigued and drifting, refocusing again and again on yet another glaring name or neon floor number. I felt like I had just had a real tough day at the office counting too many paper clips and pushing around too many Eagle pencils. "Sir?" came a little sparkle from Miss Pearly Whites. "..Oh, ah..Hmm--" I broke away from the chart long enough to see the little dimple forming in her cheek, just below her delicious blue eyes-- "Let me check in here. Hang on--" I refocused on my brief case which seemed to be vaguely familiar. I hefted it high and brought it down with a thump on the counter. I shot Dimples a smile just for grins. Somewhere in there would be the answer. The security guard adjusted something on his belt. I hadn't noticed him before. "Whuck! Whuck!" the briefcase untoggled just as I reached for the latches. I was convinced that it wanted to tell me its secrets. I lifted the lid and peered inside. "Let's see here.." I stalled, "Just a minute, aah--" Damn! This case was full of samples or something--It wasn't mine! "Geez, I must have brought in the wrong..case.." What was going on here? "Problem?" Her Cuteness leaned forward. So did the guard. I grinned and swallowed something a little too dry to enjoy. "Oh--no, No, No," I wheezed between my teeth, all the while wondering just what I had brought in with me. Bunch of little books, all the same size and color, small and dark. I also noticed that I was wearing wing-tipped shoes, the kind with the soles so thick that you could screw roller-skates on. Didn't know I even *had* shoes like that. I wondered if I could run in them. I also wondered why I thought I needed to run in them. I lifted the little books and shot a glance under the tightly packed layer. More books. I checked the pockets. Order forms and some bright sheets that said: "SAVE.." no, they said: "ARE YOU SAVED?" This stuff was terrible. I moved to keep the contents secret. I was dumfounded. What the Hell was all this doing in here? "Excuse me, Sir," began the guard. I heard the snap on his holster come loose. "Please step away from the case." He moved closer. "Do what?" I responded, wondering what had suddenly gotten him upset. Dimples just smiled and stayed where she was. I noticed that there were no windows in the reception area. I thought there were. I thought about grabbing the briefcase and running back out the revolving door. "Hold your hands out to the side--RIGHT NOW!" demanded the guard. I was looking down the nasty end of an automatic. I wondered if I would be rifled like the barrel after the shot. "RIGHT NOW!!" He cocked the hammer. "OK! OK! Geez!" I bristled and threw my hands out to the side. The fliers somehow managed to toss themselves into the air. I watched the guard watch them flutter from side to side and settle on the furniture and floor. His eyes widened. "Call backup!" he barked at the stiffening receptionist, "DO IT!!" She jumpped back with a sudden tick, smile still stretched across her even teeth. "Drop Crew to Penthouse--" she leaned into the intercom, never taking her eyes off mine-- "we got a Hot One!" Two heavies showed up immediately, a fat black bouncer and a skinny Latino with a pencil thin moustache. The latino spoke first. "Yo--Thumper--" he stood directly in front of me, invading my space. I leaned back and looked sideways-- "Hey--Chu!--" I had been flanked by Gordo. He was standing on one of the fliers. None of this made any sense-- "Turn around! MOVE!" "Who--Me?" I countered, still standing my ground. I shot a glance at the guard with the gun, but he wasn't there anymore. I was beginning to get a bit nervous about the briefcase, so I slammed the lid down and tried to lock the latches. They didn't latch. A hiss and a stabbing pain were all I heard and felt. Both of my arms were immobilized by the lightning grip of the guy with the moustache. His hands were too warm to be real. He was a damn machine. "Hey! Woah! This has all gotta be a--" I was launched head first into a hole in the wall just behind me. I heard the briefcase scuff across the counter and go quiet. I figured it was next. "KA-WHUMP!" I ate a few centimeters of the padding on the back wall of the elevator that wasn't there a moment ago. Before I caught my buckling knees from climbing up to my earlobes, I had managed to twist around to shoot Slim a dirty look. It didn't last long. "No--Wait!" I protested, but it was too late. My brief case completed a sub-orbital arc straight to the top of my head. "KA-WHAM!" I watched the case topple off, and scatter the little bibles across the floor. I smiled stupidly at Miss Priss still standing behind her desk. She whacked at a lonesome straggler teetering on the edge of the counter and sent it fluttering toward me. It landed in a little curl of elevator dust. "Geet z'em all!" Skinny with the mean lunch hooks hissed and punched the lower-most button on the elevator panel. Gordo kicked the last little book aboard as the door began to close. It shut with a "squitch", and the floor dropped out from underneath us. "Whaa--" I crawled in the lowered gravity and dancing bibles and religious paraphernalia. My head was still bobbing around up there with Miss Bubbles, and I wasn't sure where my stomach was. Thinking I could somehow find it hovering nearby, I herded as much of the stuff as I could back into the briefcase. Then a sudden acceleration floated me and briefcase to hold everything in. We were going down fast. "Hep ya ho dat, Thumpuh!" The fat one put his foot on top of the briefcase, pinning my arms neatly inside. He pressed himself against the rail for a better advantage. I was just beginning to wake up a bit. Pain does that. "Got a nother Thumper jes thees mornink," El Cid said to Chubby. "Where' dey all be cum' fum, hmmm?" Flabbo wheezed. He shifted just enough to let a few little bibles escape. I was still caught. "Queek zey come Up--queek zey go Down." Slick held the rail as the elevator trembled in its maddening plummet. I leaned his way, trying to wrestle free of the briefcase. His other hand drew back to his chin, balled up into a fist, and waited for an opportunity to paste me back to rat class. "..Down?.." I manage to assemble the concept that I was going somewhere, but exactly where hadn't quite registered yet. "Si, Thumper--Chu are going Down!" Grease said over the tops of his knuckles. I could hear him grin behind his fist. I wondered how long his arm was. I wondered how long this ride was. "Down.." I tried to get up, but Lardo added a few more kilos to his end of the equation. I noticed that the air was getting considerably warmer and stuffier. I thought I'd inquire about my itinerary, thinking surely this all could be explained somehow. I watched the floors spin away in a blur. A single red button remained illuminated at the absolute bottom of the panel. I felt really uneasy about all of this. "Ah, Where we goin'?--Eeeow!" The briefcase bit into my arms. "Chu goin' straight to L, Thumper," Switchblade said as Blubber leaned into his work. "L--?" I could see the golden "L" branded into the bright red button on the selector panel. What did that mean? "You gon' da L," repeated Dumbo with sweat running from his forehead. "Damn!" I said, as if I hadn't a clue. END