Making Friends, Pt 2

When Doc woke up this morning, he had a relaxing cup of coffee, read the paper, and thought about how nice his recent visit to the Library of Alexandria had been. He did not think at all about being attacked by a large, drunken barbarian armed with a mug on a Chinese-made time traveling space ship several hundred years before he was even born. Being placed in such a situation, however, tends to put one on edge, and being on edge is often advantageous when a fight breaks out.

Doc gets out of the way of the one man stampede as it stumbles forward, swinging wildly. He runs around a table, across the galley, and dives behind the bar.

Thunderhorse throws his mug at where Doc was standing the last time a synapse fired. It sails out of the galley and smashes against the corridor wall.

"WO IST BLITZEN?!" he screams. "WO IST MEIN PFERD?!"

Doc musters all the powers his high school-level German. Where is my horse? He replies: "Ich weiß nicht wo Ihr Pferd ist!" (I knows not where you horse is!) He pulls out one of the golden, yellow treats and waves it above the bar "Mögen Sie ein ...uh... Twinkie? Es ist ...um... kö-, er... köslik? Est ist gut." (Like you a Twinkie? It is de-, delshus? It is good.)

Thunderhorse looks surprised, through his drunken haze and hair. "Was?" (What?) he asks, approaching slowly.

Doc stands up a bit. He places the Twinkie on the bar before him and gets the other from his pocket. He opens it and takes a bite. "Mmmm... ist ...köstlich!" he says enthusiastically.

Thunderhorse approaches the Twinkie and picks it up. He examines the thing. He pokes it. He pounds it a bit with his fist. The wrapper pops and a bit of the cream filling squishes out. He picks it up and sniffs it. "Was ist das?"

"Es ist ein Twinkie," Doc replies with his mouth full.

Thunderhorse takes a bite. His teeth don't penetrate the wrapper, but in pulling it out of his mouth he manages to squeeze out some Twinkie. He chews it a bit. "Ja, das ist gut!" He squeezes some more Twinkie out of the wrapper and into his mouth.

"Wer sind Sie? " asks Thunderhorse with a mouth full of Twinkie.

"I'm Doc," Doc replies accidently in English, also through a Twinkie. He swallows. "Mein Name ist Doc."

"Wo sind wir? Ist dieses Valhalla? Sind wir tot?" Thunderhorse asks, distressed. Doc is having trouble understanding and can't keep up with the German much longer.

"Computer, can you translate for us?" Doc asks the ceiling. Thunderhorse looks perplexed, and is downright frightened when the ceiling chimes an affirmative. "What did you ask me?" Doc asks Thunderhorse.

Thunderhorse looks extremely confused. "What is this magic?!" He shouts in German. Doc can hear it, but he hears the translation over-top of it, almost inside his head, like the directed personal sound systems they use in the Smithsonian and those annoying billboards in the streets. "Is this Valhalla or Hell?! I did not die in battle so surely this must be Hell!"

"We're not dead," Doc tries to explain, but Thunderhorse does not listen.

"We're cursed for eternity!" he continues to rage. "I drank so much in life, it finally drank me back! The very tankard its self swallowed me whole! And now I will rot in Hell forever, and I will never see my Lightning again!" He looses a wail of sorrow and slumps back down on a barstool. The Chef merrily pours him another beer.