Mike v2.0 (A Firesetter Short Story) Read Free

shit out of me? I was in the hospital for a month
after that, but I learned my lesson. Yes, I did. I didn’t have
another drink for at least the next ten years. Well, maybe eight
years. Six tops. Although, I did have a beer or two in between, and
occasionally, a glass of wine. Can’t go through life without good
wine. Trust me, Mikey-boy. I could have stopped any time I wanted,
though. Really, I could have.”
    “Yes, Sir,” the nurse said politely, her hand
still clutching my arm, the viperous needle still drawing an
obscene quantity of my life’s blood.
    “Maybe, it wasn’t ten years,” Steve continued.
“No, come to think of it, it was definitely closer to five. I
started drinking again when Joanne left me for the second time. No.
It was the first time, but that doesn’t matter. Every time she
left, I got drunk just to celebrate.”
    Joanne wasn’t my grandmother, but rather
Steve’s second and third wife, of which the first one had also left
him in a rage.
    As for my grandmother, I knew basically
nothing, except that my mother had been conceived during a
one-night stand. Later, she had died in a spaceplane crash when my
mother was still a child.
    “Caused by my father, no doubt,” Steve always
insisted, growing increasingly remorse, “because I loved
her.”
    “No, he didn’t cause it,” my mother snapped.
“It was a mechanical malfunction. And, you didn’t love my mother at
all. You can’t even remember her name, Steve. Stop filling Mike’s
head with these ridiculous stories.”
    “She’s right.” Steve chuckled, cheering up
again, while nudging me conspiratorially. “I have no clue who your
grandmother was, but I'm certain she was totally hot. Hot women
love princes like us, Mikey, even when we look like
toads.”
    “Do I look like a toad?” I had asked, being an
impressionable five year old at the time.
    “Not at all, little dude. You’re fortunate in
that you look like me and not your old man, Thunk.” Steve stuck out
his tongue, pronouncing my father’s nickname with a great deal of
aspiration. “Actually, you look like my old man with your curly
black hair and all. The Great Emperor, version 2.0, that’s gonna be
you, Mikey-boy. You stick with me and we’ll make you a better king
than even mad Senya.”
    “Stop it, Steve!” my mother probably cried,
hustling me off to bed, or bath, or school. “I ought to banish you
to your suite before you corrupt my child.”
    “I wish you would banish him to an old folk’s
home instead,” my father undoubtedly added. “But, I doubt there is
a single facility on this entire planet willing to take
him.”
    “If I go, you’re coming with me, Thunk,” Steve
spat, waggling his tongue at my father’s name.
    “Fine by me,” my mother added. “I’ll gladly
put you both away. Mikey and I will be just fine on our
own.”
     
    The nurse, having acquired numerous vials of
my royal blood, curtseyed and giggled her way out of the room. I
was left alone with Steve, who undoubtedly took a few moments to
enjoy the nurse’s parting view.
    “Well, Mikey, what are we going to do about
you now?” His voice circled from the door, to the windows, before
settling back upon me.
    “Shoot me,” I suggested. “I’m damaged
goods.”
    “Ha! You just need to get yourself
repaired.”
    “The doctor said it’s going to take time. We
can do nothing but wait it out.” I felt a tear trickle down my
cheek as the prospect of extended blindness sounded
daunting.
    “Harrumph.” Steve paused and clicked his
tongue. He scratched his head, and I imagined a cloud of dandruff
snowflakes swirling in the air. “You know what I think,
junior?”
    “No.”
    “I think we need to take you to another
hospital. This one has gone to hell anyway. Obviously, the doctors
here are incompetent ignoramuses. Now, back in my father’s day,
this place—ach! You don’t want hear about that now. I’m thinking we
need to go to Planet Rozari. Those dudes are smarter, much more