Little Red Bugged by HOMERs

            We were in a huge parking lot outside a convention. S and I were sitting in Little Red (my Honda Insight) talking about the show. I was driving around with SCV, backwards, with the lights off to avoid detection by Homeland Robotic Security. (HOMERS)

            HOMERS would fly or roll past every few minutes. I had a radar detector type device that allowed us to know when they were coming by. We would be silent at that point. While the vehicle keys were on, there was a microphone in the car that transmitted any conversation to the nearby robotic security forces. We would move the car, then talk a bit, then move the car again so even if there were traces, the signal would be coming from different parts of the parking lot. I'm not sure how that would really work; because the radio could easily identify the vehicle it was coming from no matter where we were parked.

            Eventually I made it to a parking space next to a large group of power and data boxes. The RF interference was quite loud. We talked a bit more, and then S left for his panel. Somehow I found myself in the passenger seat.

            Angel Boris (her stage name) climbed into the driver's seat. (She’s a B movie actress and model.) We spoke for a bit, then I was back in the driver's seat and she was outside my window. She leaned in for a kiss. Her hair was soft like our Ginger's hair. Smelled like her, too. (I'm thinking the cat was being cuddly.) Angel transformed into an alpaca. She head bonked me and trotted off, not wanting to be late for her panel. That was a good trick.  

I decided I'd better make my way back to the convention and make sure our booth was doing all right. (There were Shirts and Posters mostly with drawings or photos of S and me behind microphones.) We also had two CD’s of shows and several of S’s chapbooks, maze books and a copy of our novel in hardback, signed, of course.

            In the hallway outside the dealers’ room I ran into John Gorman, a former drama student, leading a dance troupe. The dancers I didn't really recognize, though they were all in their twenties and all nicely stretched their spandex outfits in interesting ways. They performed a routine for us, right there in the hall. I had my .mp3 recorder and interviewed them afterwards, for our show. I got to autograph their warm-up shirts. That was fun.

            A well rounded Blonde struck a "take me now!" pose at end of interview. "Too bad this isn't a camera." I referred to my .mp3 recorder. Several folks were around and promised to email their photos to the show’s email address.

            After hugs and kisses, I walked back to the dealer's room and said hello to the crowd outside our booth. I was obliged to sign several shirts and a couple of books. Everyone seemed to want to know where S was. So I pulled out a schedule and sent them to his panel. When the crowd had thinned, somewhat, I noticed a HOMER hovering over the crowd in the intersection, I smiled and waved.

The alpaca came back and asked if she could be our booth babe for a while.

Who am I to say “No” to a talking alpaca? Thankfully, she transformed back into a woman and seemed to draw an even larger crowd than we had before.

            I sure like spandex, and dancers, and models, and alpacas...

 

Ad astra per technica,

FF