Moon Trek - The Misadventures of Alexis Calderon-Bigglesworth III, Page 2

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  I returned to the room and re-recycled the clothing into something more appropriate and dry. I glided through the lobby ignoring the hateful stare of the waiter Simon and I approached a credit machine.

  The unsophisticated reader will be amazed that I required money. Luna has not yet accepted standard electronic credits as a monetary unit. This seemed to defy belief when I first discovered the fact but the Loonies always had been a funny breed.

  I wandered down to the city centre and out to the Piazza San Marco. My liner was not scheduled to leave Luna for thirty-six hours regardless of the pilot so I decided to see “The travelling of the virgin” before I left the moon. This vast ceremony appeared to take a goodly portion of the natives energy. It lasted some four earth days and occurred on a date which they call Good Moonday or some such thing.

  The original settlers had been mostly Catholic and were exiled after the thirty-second jihad. I was told by my grandfather that at one point they were having a jihad every second week. Now however the Loonies were one of the last cults left in the solar system.

  The statue of the Virgin Mary was said to have been rescued from the Vatican itself during the thirty-first jihad and saved from looters when the city was burned to the ground. Pope Ringo-Elvis VII would be travelling with the statue today according to the news bulletins at the hotel and this made the day even more special to the Loonies.

  The sophisticated reader will of course know that the Piazza San Marco is the primary location of the Loonie Church. I could see the crowds gathering and I followed them toward the Church. One must assume it is a church, although never having seen one that didn’t have an “Entrance forbidden under pain of death” sign attached I found it difficult to determine the exact nature of the edifice.

  The locals were beginning the parade and the crowd was getting fractiousness. I watched the locals closely to see if they were in some sort of religious rapture, but they all looked fairly normal to me, with the exception of the boring grey and black clothing and lots of excitement.

  As with any civilised citizen I hadn't had any exposure to religion. It was banned on earth for the last fifty years. One assumes that there would be something special about all this religious activity but it seemed quite mundane to me.

  I pushed forward more forcefully to see the “priest” who was now making a speech to the assembled masses. He was dressed in a long white outfit with a big pointed hat. This must be the one they call Il Duce or Pope. The well informed reader will know that it was in fact the Pope. However I was never quite sure of the correct term of address, my history tutor had been a frightfully boring woman with no taste in men.

  I could regal the dear reader with a number of tales related to the misapplication of arrows of love which cupid poured so frequently into the adipose and grotesque arse of this woman, but they are tales for another day. At that moment whiles musing on the obese arse of my history teacher I caught a glimpse of her complete opposite, a lovely young creature.

  She was dressed in a green micro-skirt with matching breast paint. My ever vigilant mind dashed straight to the conclusion that I’d seen her previously. It was the rude woman from the Savoy doorway, although I confess that due to my gravitational rotation at the time I didn’t fully realise the pertness of her frame.

  I decided to make her acquaintance and perhaps to fill the remainder of my stay with some pleasant sexual gymnastics. I was delighted I had changed my attire. My re-recycled clothing was a green shirt with orange kilt, the traditional dress of the Reclaimed Isle of Scotland, the one that sank, not the amusement park.

  My demeanour and dress screamed sophistication and sensuality as I sauntered toward her. She was carrying three or four shopping bags and looked a tourist rather than an immigrant. I noted the designer names on the bags as I elbowed my way in her direction.

  I was just the sort of man she would want and I was sure I would get a leg over before my trip into the proverbial wilderness of space. Her eyes were crystal blue and she was very good-looking, with firm pert breasts under the paint. I made a point of surveying that area.

  A free space opened in the crowd as I moved through it. People scowled as I elbowed them. I shook my head in disbelief. It wasn't my fault they didn't know how to move through a crowd. You would have thought these Loonies had never been to a concert. It was at that moment she saw me and took the opportunity to walk directly over. Obviously the attraction of my fashion making this religious manifestation pale to insignificance for her.

  She handed me one of her designer bags.

  "Here you are" she said. “About time too. Quick get into the stuff before it is too late.”

  "Thank you.” I smiled taking the bag; my voice smooth as a concrete carport. “I was wondering it you would be interested in spending the ...” I managed to get out as she turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd.

  I was dashed with chagrin, the bag dangling from my hand. I scanned the crowd looking for her but she’d disappeared without a trace. I was gobsmacked. How could she disappear in a crowd of drab grey people while wearing green body paint and large silver nipple rings?

  The Pope or whoever seemed to have completed his speech and it appeared that in my efforts to approach the woman I had managed to get to middle of the action. I gazed at the fellow in morbid fascination.

  It wasn’t the long flowing white fashion killing robes that had this fascination. It was the fact that the profession of religious beliefs in public would get you the death penalty in any civilised area of Earth. Most religious organizations had long since moved off-world.

  The cavalcade seemed to be moving along toward the outskirts of the city, and I was rapidly losing interest. I took one last look around for the woman then set off back to my room for a good-nights sleep.

  I must have spun to quickly because I bumped into some fellow dressed like the Pope but carrying an ugly looking clay bust of a woman. His arms jerked forward and the ugly statue floated up into the air in the weak gravity, before arcing down slowly toward the ground.

  People began wailing and screaming, and that Pope fellow that had done the sermon shoved me and leapt to catch the thing. I was knocked to the ground and my knee hit the floor.

  “You bloody rude bastard!” I shouted as he caught the ugly statue, I turned on my heels and stormed back toward the hotel. I could see riot police rushing past me. I glanced behind to see the Pope and his followers crashing into the police, chanting “Kill slim!”

  I have no idea who this “slim” was but he was lucky the police were there.