The Bubbles & Marius Show: Snake Bite
Aug. 18th, 2009 08:41 pmMarius and Cammie Bubbles talk various drinks before she gets called on to help a local out with an infestation of snakes.
The locale was exotic. The people were… friendly in a weird way. The food at some points tasted like food everywhere else, nothing, and at others actually had some flavor to it. Other than that, Cammie didn’t know why she had let herself be talked into this.
Oh right. Amara hadn’t taken no for an answer. But at least she hadn’t been shuffled off to some stranger’s place. No, she was staying with Amara and Amara’s father. And fighting the urge to shout ‘TOGA PARTY’ whenever she saw someone.
Right now, she was sitting at the base of a tree on the outside of town eating something she had picked up randomly. It tasted okay. A little tangy.
This place was just weird.
"Cheers, Bubbles. Slow day?"
Marius wandered over, holding a cloth bag in one hand and two mugs in the other. He hadn't bothered with a shirt that morning and wore only long shorts. The Australian cocked his head, nodding at the thing in her hand. "What'd you find there?"
"Every day is a slow day. Fast days are evil," she said, holding up her hand, a collection of berries and some sort of flower, "Not sure what it is, but I can taste it. Kinda like raspberries, I guess. Maybe. Hard to say when you don't remember what shit tastes like anymore. What happened to your shirt? It get kidnapped?"
"Ah, we've fallen subject to irreconcilable differences. I have decided it was only holding me back. Happily, our painful separation afforded me the opportunity to find something that might be of interest to one with tastes such as yours." Marius dropped into a crouch, set down the mugs, and opened the cloth bag. With great ceremony, he fished out a a glass bottle of clear liquid. "Alcohol--" he said, setting it on the grass and reaching into the bag once again, "--an' antifreeze." He withdrew what looked like a plastic jug a quarter-full of green liquid. He glanced up at her and sloshed it meaningfully.
"You speak English," Cammie started, her eyes on the anti-freeze container, "But I can only understand one out of every four things you say. You need a translator to follow you around. But I'll take the anti-freeze. I got that part. And the booze, if it's done right," she said reaching for the booze, "There isn't some legal fine print to taking either of these, I hope."
"I assume it is my whorish reputation to which you referr. Fear not. Rumours to the contrary, I prefer to limit any intimate encounters to those I am unlikely to see again." The Australian indicated the bottle she held. "That, I am told, is a local brew known as cachaca. Made from sugarcane, I believe. I am given to understand that, when drunk straight, it is somewhat like vodka." He spread the bag to reveal three limes, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Although given what the bloke who supplied it to me said, this particular vintage may in fact be intended for industrial use."
"Well, then we're both safe, because I don't pay for jack shit," she said, taking a drink. She could taste it, and it tickled, "I love it when it's meant to clean out pipes," she said with a smirk, "The stronger the better. What's with the limes? They go in the drink?" she couldn't taste limes all that much, a bit because of the acid. Same with lemons. That made her think of key lime pie.
She remembered that being good.
"Ah, you have discovered the crux of my plan. A certain gentleman told me of a newly introduced local drink. Apparently it is common to mix cachaca with sugar an' crushed lime. And I, as a fellow, former sufferer of certain dietary idiosyncracies, thought I might take the opportunity to engage in a small humanitarian experiment. Also, I was bored."
"Once again, I wish you had subtitles. What's your poison then?" she asked, she knew 'idiosyncrasies', "And experiments and boredom, I can get behind anything that gets over being bored."
"Excellent. I should take offense, you know. My unintelligibility is a part of my charm. But anyway . . ." Marius set the mugs between them. "Antifreeze should present a suitable substitute for sugar, I think. Alas, juicers do not appear to have made it thus far yet, so there is little choice but to crush and toss in the whole lime. That should do for you, I believe. I, being possessed of a normal digestive track, had best limit myself to the cachaca." He uncapped the antifreeze and poured a good portion into one of the mugs, which he handed to Cammie. "Preferences as to which of us manhandles your fruit?"
She took that mug, "Well, I often find my fruit responds best to my own commands," she said with a laugh and held out her hand for one of hte limes, "So hit me. With the lime."
"Clearly your fruit has been handled by amateurs. Nonetheless, as you wish." Marius tossed her one of the limes and took up the bottle of spirits, filling the remainder of her mug and then his own before taking up a lime of his own. He drew the pocketknife from his pocket and began to slice the fruit. "Incidentally, should I happen to go blind, kindly give us a nick with this. Whilst an intensely creepy request, observation indicates a bit of blood from yourself would remedy alcohol poisoning quite shortly."
"Yeah, because it will kill you," Cammie said, just peeling her lime with her hand, "Or is that your 'thing'?" she asked, "Because I'm really not looking to kill someone by exchanging blood. But if it won't kill you, hey, whatever floats your boat. Next time don't drink pipe cleaning booze."
Marius waved dismissively as he began to cut the slices into wedges. "Come now, I'm not drinking the antifreeze, am I? It's cruel to deny me the alcohol as well. And yes, that is indeed my thing. Bloodsharing, though unhygenic and frankly not a very popular trick at parties, enables me to assume the powers of another. I am also fairly immune to the direct application of powers to my person, which is the difference between, say, Mr. Dayspring bein' able to crush my head with his brain an' bein' forced to crush my head by usin' his brain to nail it with a blunt object."
Cammie had to snort at the last, "So, I can't poison you then? Or is that not something I should be randomly attempting. I don't do social skills or parties," she said, taking care of her lime the knife free old fashioned way, before adding it to her anti-freeze, "And I guess I'll let you drink what you want. Can't stop ya."
"No parites? A pity. For the sober participant they are an excellent source of potential blackmail. As for the other, I would assume you could not poison me, no. We could test this theory, but after we're done. I am a firm if redundant believer in spirits before poison." Marius picked up his mug, nodding at Cammie. "Cheers."
Cammie lifted her class, "It's kinda lie, I did go to one to torment Jake Good party. Ate a sharpie," she drank, "But I really don't like groups of people that I have some connection to getting sick. So finish your booze and we'll see if I can make you vomit."
"Interesting. What does a sharpie taste like? Ah, never mind." The older boy took a swig from the mug, then picked up a wedge of lime and bit into it. He tossed the peel aside, blinking rapidly, and coughed before he spoke again. "Not precisely sure what proof that is, but my eyes are tearin', which I always take to be a good sign. Quite foul. Sadly it does not meet my requirements for Most Hideous Beverage Ever Imbibed; my bar for breathtakingly horrible alcohol remains Polish vodka, which I believe is in fact legally classified as varnish remover." He took another drink, followed by another slice of lime. "Yes, that confirms it. The only way to rid oneself of the aftertaste is to drink more. And yours? Any good?"
"Can't say I ever had Polish Vodka," Cammie said, taking another swig of hers, "Good. Always is. Anti-freeze is a favorite drink. Pine-sol is the worst. Pine-sol tastes like... well, something in it is bad."
"You mean, perhaps, like Pine-sol? It might be a personal bias, but I feel that, regardless of one's tastes, no good can ever come of consuming anythin' that smells like an air freshener."
A shadow fell over them then, before Marius could reply. "Pardon me," the woman said, speaking to Cammie, "but you're Amara's friend with the poison, yes? I was wondering if you could help me."
"Oh crap," she muttered then looked over and grinned at one of the faces that had sort of blurred together, "Yeah... what 'cha need?"
The woman looked somewhat relieved that she'd guessed correctly. "I have a problem," she said, her fingers twisting around each other in worry. "There's a Jararaca in my home. Am I right in thinking that you're unable to be poisoned yourself?"
Marius raised his eyebrows at Cammie. "Oi, another ingredient for your drink, you think?"
"I suppose so. Snakes," Cammie said, "Snakes don't bother me at all."
"Then you can help me?" the woman asked expectantly.
"Yeah, sure," Cammie stood, still holding her drink, "Sounds like a barrel of laughs. Come on Marius, let's go charm a snake. Then I can drink him."
Marius rose to his feet. "Brilliant. You know," he continued as the woman led them back to the village, "one of Australia's richest natural resources is our high concentration of venomous wildlife. I had quite missed the atmosphere of anxiety."
"And here I thought you people were all about crocs. Crocodile DunDee, The Crocodile Hunter... Guess I can add snakes and beer to the list of things that come from Australia," Cammie mused as they followed the woman to her house.
"Look, both of you can stay out here if you want," she said. She could handle a snake.
Marius shrugged. "Ah, sure. Why complicate perfection?"
The woman stopped next to him. "The Jararaca is a deadly snake--it is extremely poisonous. Are you sure she'll be okay?"
Marius thought of the nonchalant way in which Cammie had drunk the antifreeze and cachaca. "I honestly foresee no problems."
"Yeah, I'm really metal. Like totally hard core," Cammie said. The most she had to worry about was getting bit. She went in the door of the house, just looking around. It was honestly hard to miss the snake, it was long. And curled up, just hanging out, in the woman's house.
"Oh, well, this is easy," she muttered, walking over and just grabbing the sleeping reptile. Jostled out of its sleep, it didn't bother giving her a warning before biting. It stung. But that was it. Cammie didn't even flinch.
"Have to do better than that, snakey," she said, and that was when she noticed the other one darting towards the door. "Shit. Snake coming your way! There was two."
Marius looked around quickly, then smiled when he spotted something appropriate to his needs. He stooped to grab a thick stick from the ground, then, without unbending, pivoted to bring it down lengthwise across the snake's neck as it slithered past.
"Not quite as impressive as my mate who can catch 'em by the tail an' crack 'em like a whip, but sufficient," Marius observed as the snake's tail thrashed and curled towards its immobilized head. "Caught it a bit too low down the neck for a safe grab, alas. Bubbles, if you could do the honours?"
Cammie walked forward, one snake still attached to her forearm. She reached down and grabbed the other, not caring if it bit her or not, "You know, these fuckers are really damn annoying."
"Ah, I prefer them to spiders. Less inclined to hide beneath the toilet, for a start." Marius withdrew the stick, watching the snake squirm in Cammie's hand. He glanced back at the owner of the house. "Oi, you have any preferred method of disposal here?"
The woman blinked, pulling her eyes away from the snakes attached at the fang to Cammie and looking instead at Marius. "...No," she said slowly, "I believe 'dead' will do just fine."
"Well, if this one keeps biting me that won't be a problem," Cammie said, slightly annoyed, "Kinda burns." But that was it. "I fear no snakes. Or spiders. Or malt liquor."
"A fine an' healthy attitude, in my opinion. Oops, an' there it goes," Marius observed as the snake affixed to her arm began to go limp. He nodded at the still-living one. "Nefarious drink experiments before his coils are shifted from this mortal one, you think?"
"Took it long enough, but it's not like fangs get a lot of blood," Cammie noted and then smiled, "I will go for anything that has both 'Nefarious' and 'Drinks' involved. Sure it will spice up my drinks, so let's do this thang."
The locale was exotic. The people were… friendly in a weird way. The food at some points tasted like food everywhere else, nothing, and at others actually had some flavor to it. Other than that, Cammie didn’t know why she had let herself be talked into this.
Oh right. Amara hadn’t taken no for an answer. But at least she hadn’t been shuffled off to some stranger’s place. No, she was staying with Amara and Amara’s father. And fighting the urge to shout ‘TOGA PARTY’ whenever she saw someone.
Right now, she was sitting at the base of a tree on the outside of town eating something she had picked up randomly. It tasted okay. A little tangy.
This place was just weird.
"Cheers, Bubbles. Slow day?"
Marius wandered over, holding a cloth bag in one hand and two mugs in the other. He hadn't bothered with a shirt that morning and wore only long shorts. The Australian cocked his head, nodding at the thing in her hand. "What'd you find there?"
"Every day is a slow day. Fast days are evil," she said, holding up her hand, a collection of berries and some sort of flower, "Not sure what it is, but I can taste it. Kinda like raspberries, I guess. Maybe. Hard to say when you don't remember what shit tastes like anymore. What happened to your shirt? It get kidnapped?"
"Ah, we've fallen subject to irreconcilable differences. I have decided it was only holding me back. Happily, our painful separation afforded me the opportunity to find something that might be of interest to one with tastes such as yours." Marius dropped into a crouch, set down the mugs, and opened the cloth bag. With great ceremony, he fished out a a glass bottle of clear liquid. "Alcohol--" he said, setting it on the grass and reaching into the bag once again, "--an' antifreeze." He withdrew what looked like a plastic jug a quarter-full of green liquid. He glanced up at her and sloshed it meaningfully.
"You speak English," Cammie started, her eyes on the anti-freeze container, "But I can only understand one out of every four things you say. You need a translator to follow you around. But I'll take the anti-freeze. I got that part. And the booze, if it's done right," she said reaching for the booze, "There isn't some legal fine print to taking either of these, I hope."
"I assume it is my whorish reputation to which you referr. Fear not. Rumours to the contrary, I prefer to limit any intimate encounters to those I am unlikely to see again." The Australian indicated the bottle she held. "That, I am told, is a local brew known as cachaca. Made from sugarcane, I believe. I am given to understand that, when drunk straight, it is somewhat like vodka." He spread the bag to reveal three limes, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Although given what the bloke who supplied it to me said, this particular vintage may in fact be intended for industrial use."
"Well, then we're both safe, because I don't pay for jack shit," she said, taking a drink. She could taste it, and it tickled, "I love it when it's meant to clean out pipes," she said with a smirk, "The stronger the better. What's with the limes? They go in the drink?" she couldn't taste limes all that much, a bit because of the acid. Same with lemons. That made her think of key lime pie.
She remembered that being good.
"Ah, you have discovered the crux of my plan. A certain gentleman told me of a newly introduced local drink. Apparently it is common to mix cachaca with sugar an' crushed lime. And I, as a fellow, former sufferer of certain dietary idiosyncracies, thought I might take the opportunity to engage in a small humanitarian experiment. Also, I was bored."
"Once again, I wish you had subtitles. What's your poison then?" she asked, she knew 'idiosyncrasies', "And experiments and boredom, I can get behind anything that gets over being bored."
"Excellent. I should take offense, you know. My unintelligibility is a part of my charm. But anyway . . ." Marius set the mugs between them. "Antifreeze should present a suitable substitute for sugar, I think. Alas, juicers do not appear to have made it thus far yet, so there is little choice but to crush and toss in the whole lime. That should do for you, I believe. I, being possessed of a normal digestive track, had best limit myself to the cachaca." He uncapped the antifreeze and poured a good portion into one of the mugs, which he handed to Cammie. "Preferences as to which of us manhandles your fruit?"
She took that mug, "Well, I often find my fruit responds best to my own commands," she said with a laugh and held out her hand for one of hte limes, "So hit me. With the lime."
"Clearly your fruit has been handled by amateurs. Nonetheless, as you wish." Marius tossed her one of the limes and took up the bottle of spirits, filling the remainder of her mug and then his own before taking up a lime of his own. He drew the pocketknife from his pocket and began to slice the fruit. "Incidentally, should I happen to go blind, kindly give us a nick with this. Whilst an intensely creepy request, observation indicates a bit of blood from yourself would remedy alcohol poisoning quite shortly."
"Yeah, because it will kill you," Cammie said, just peeling her lime with her hand, "Or is that your 'thing'?" she asked, "Because I'm really not looking to kill someone by exchanging blood. But if it won't kill you, hey, whatever floats your boat. Next time don't drink pipe cleaning booze."
Marius waved dismissively as he began to cut the slices into wedges. "Come now, I'm not drinking the antifreeze, am I? It's cruel to deny me the alcohol as well. And yes, that is indeed my thing. Bloodsharing, though unhygenic and frankly not a very popular trick at parties, enables me to assume the powers of another. I am also fairly immune to the direct application of powers to my person, which is the difference between, say, Mr. Dayspring bein' able to crush my head with his brain an' bein' forced to crush my head by usin' his brain to nail it with a blunt object."
Cammie had to snort at the last, "So, I can't poison you then? Or is that not something I should be randomly attempting. I don't do social skills or parties," she said, taking care of her lime the knife free old fashioned way, before adding it to her anti-freeze, "And I guess I'll let you drink what you want. Can't stop ya."
"No parites? A pity. For the sober participant they are an excellent source of potential blackmail. As for the other, I would assume you could not poison me, no. We could test this theory, but after we're done. I am a firm if redundant believer in spirits before poison." Marius picked up his mug, nodding at Cammie. "Cheers."
Cammie lifted her class, "It's kinda lie, I did go to one to torment Jake Good party. Ate a sharpie," she drank, "But I really don't like groups of people that I have some connection to getting sick. So finish your booze and we'll see if I can make you vomit."
"Interesting. What does a sharpie taste like? Ah, never mind." The older boy took a swig from the mug, then picked up a wedge of lime and bit into it. He tossed the peel aside, blinking rapidly, and coughed before he spoke again. "Not precisely sure what proof that is, but my eyes are tearin', which I always take to be a good sign. Quite foul. Sadly it does not meet my requirements for Most Hideous Beverage Ever Imbibed; my bar for breathtakingly horrible alcohol remains Polish vodka, which I believe is in fact legally classified as varnish remover." He took another drink, followed by another slice of lime. "Yes, that confirms it. The only way to rid oneself of the aftertaste is to drink more. And yours? Any good?"
"Can't say I ever had Polish Vodka," Cammie said, taking another swig of hers, "Good. Always is. Anti-freeze is a favorite drink. Pine-sol is the worst. Pine-sol tastes like... well, something in it is bad."
"You mean, perhaps, like Pine-sol? It might be a personal bias, but I feel that, regardless of one's tastes, no good can ever come of consuming anythin' that smells like an air freshener."
A shadow fell over them then, before Marius could reply. "Pardon me," the woman said, speaking to Cammie, "but you're Amara's friend with the poison, yes? I was wondering if you could help me."
"Oh crap," she muttered then looked over and grinned at one of the faces that had sort of blurred together, "Yeah... what 'cha need?"
The woman looked somewhat relieved that she'd guessed correctly. "I have a problem," she said, her fingers twisting around each other in worry. "There's a Jararaca in my home. Am I right in thinking that you're unable to be poisoned yourself?"
Marius raised his eyebrows at Cammie. "Oi, another ingredient for your drink, you think?"
"I suppose so. Snakes," Cammie said, "Snakes don't bother me at all."
"Then you can help me?" the woman asked expectantly.
"Yeah, sure," Cammie stood, still holding her drink, "Sounds like a barrel of laughs. Come on Marius, let's go charm a snake. Then I can drink him."
Marius rose to his feet. "Brilliant. You know," he continued as the woman led them back to the village, "one of Australia's richest natural resources is our high concentration of venomous wildlife. I had quite missed the atmosphere of anxiety."
"And here I thought you people were all about crocs. Crocodile DunDee, The Crocodile Hunter... Guess I can add snakes and beer to the list of things that come from Australia," Cammie mused as they followed the woman to her house.
"Look, both of you can stay out here if you want," she said. She could handle a snake.
Marius shrugged. "Ah, sure. Why complicate perfection?"
The woman stopped next to him. "The Jararaca is a deadly snake--it is extremely poisonous. Are you sure she'll be okay?"
Marius thought of the nonchalant way in which Cammie had drunk the antifreeze and cachaca. "I honestly foresee no problems."
"Yeah, I'm really metal. Like totally hard core," Cammie said. The most she had to worry about was getting bit. She went in the door of the house, just looking around. It was honestly hard to miss the snake, it was long. And curled up, just hanging out, in the woman's house.
"Oh, well, this is easy," she muttered, walking over and just grabbing the sleeping reptile. Jostled out of its sleep, it didn't bother giving her a warning before biting. It stung. But that was it. Cammie didn't even flinch.
"Have to do better than that, snakey," she said, and that was when she noticed the other one darting towards the door. "Shit. Snake coming your way! There was two."
Marius looked around quickly, then smiled when he spotted something appropriate to his needs. He stooped to grab a thick stick from the ground, then, without unbending, pivoted to bring it down lengthwise across the snake's neck as it slithered past.
"Not quite as impressive as my mate who can catch 'em by the tail an' crack 'em like a whip, but sufficient," Marius observed as the snake's tail thrashed and curled towards its immobilized head. "Caught it a bit too low down the neck for a safe grab, alas. Bubbles, if you could do the honours?"
Cammie walked forward, one snake still attached to her forearm. She reached down and grabbed the other, not caring if it bit her or not, "You know, these fuckers are really damn annoying."
"Ah, I prefer them to spiders. Less inclined to hide beneath the toilet, for a start." Marius withdrew the stick, watching the snake squirm in Cammie's hand. He glanced back at the owner of the house. "Oi, you have any preferred method of disposal here?"
The woman blinked, pulling her eyes away from the snakes attached at the fang to Cammie and looking instead at Marius. "...No," she said slowly, "I believe 'dead' will do just fine."
"Well, if this one keeps biting me that won't be a problem," Cammie said, slightly annoyed, "Kinda burns." But that was it. "I fear no snakes. Or spiders. Or malt liquor."
"A fine an' healthy attitude, in my opinion. Oops, an' there it goes," Marius observed as the snake affixed to her arm began to go limp. He nodded at the still-living one. "Nefarious drink experiments before his coils are shifted from this mortal one, you think?"
"Took it long enough, but it's not like fangs get a lot of blood," Cammie noted and then smiled, "I will go for anything that has both 'Nefarious' and 'Drinks' involved. Sure it will spice up my drinks, so let's do this thang."