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UKArchive ID: 29321Girl Trouble by ChairmanWow
Originally published on January 25, 2013 in Fiction

Sometimes no matter where you run there is no escape...



     Call me Asshole. A great beginning to a picaresque adventure, huh? Of course my real name is not A-Hole it's Bret Owens and I'm not chasing a great white whale. Truth is I'm on the run from anything female. Driving north on the Alaska Highway to a place called Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, Canada after cashing out from my last job in the Middle-East, my most recent run-in with Girl Trouble.

     Back up. Despite being raised by my grandparents, I had a normal life until graduating college. With my B.S. in public health from the Frontier University of Central Kentucky (that's right, F.U.C.K.) I was set to go out and stamp out disease and pestilence. Be one of the good guys. But my first mistake was marrying my college sweetheart right after graduation. Annabelle was a doll until we got hitched and then her hidden bi-polar disorder emerged suddenly when, after a long Saturday of me out inspecting special event food stands in Louisville, she decided I was really cheating on her and tried to stab me to death when I got home. Ruined my favorite leather jacket. The divorce was ugly, false accusations of abuse, etc.

     After I healed up and the divorce was finished I had to get out of the state of Kentucky, shit, get out of the same hemisphere she was in. Landed a high-paying gig as a health inspector in one of the rich rich rich Gulf States. Everything went swimmingly for two years until I got a housefly complaint in one of the harems. So I go to this all-female complex, get escorted to this eighteen-year-old girl's private cottage.

     Nasrine was half Arab half Swedish and was not in a veil. Fact is the girl was wearing next to nothing, cut-off tee shirt and short shorts. She turned down the screeching Scandinavian black metal music and then led me to her little kitchenette where there was one lonely housefly she demanded I dispatch with insecticide. I did and left, didn't think anything of it until the next day she called in another fly complaint. I go back out to that harem, no escort this time, walked by myself up to her cottage in the 120 degree blast furnace they call a normal day there, and she answers the door in a bikini.

     Tried to play it cool but heck, I'm a healthy twenty-six-old dude who hasn't had any in two years, and anyway they always know when you think they have a great body. She led me back to the kitchenette and pointed to the dead fly in the window. I look at it close-up; it's definitely dead. The window sill like the rest of the place sparkling from the slave labor of a poor Filipino lady house cleaner; which means Nasrine saved the dead fly to get me back here.

     I look up and she is there blocking the doorway out of the kitchenette. She had a smirk I'll never forget when she said, "Come to me and do what I say or I will report you."

     So I was quasi-raped by an eighteen-year-old girl. Really shook me up, delicate cultural situation I was in and all. But the very next day she called the office and requested me specifically to come back out again. This went on for weeks, one time four days straight. Then silence, nothing, no contact. I thought this must be it; I was safe, she had found another victim. No chance! One Tuesday afternoon I was secreted a note that read: "ASSHOLE-AMERICAN! YOU GOT ME PREGNANT! YOU ARE DEAD MAN! ASSHOLE!"

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     Of course I panicked. Imagined her hiring some foreign laborer to off me for peanuts or her family finding out and doing it officially. That afternoon I bribed the red-bearded Scotsman M.D. at our ex-patriot health center to say I had a terminal case of prostate cancer. One fifth of contraband Jack Daniels was all it took. Then I purchased airline tickets and collected my pay. That night flying out of Dubai instead of feeling relieved I started playing out the scenarios for Nasrine. Probably she would just catch a flight somewhere and get an abortion. I doubted that her ultra-rich family would honor kill her if they found out; the males had pretty decadent reputations. She would certainly end up in whoredom though. Didn't really like the thought that now I'm just another bad guy looking after his own hide but that's the way it was.

     After getting back to the States I got on a Greyhound bus, the most anonymous form of transportation, and headed west. Took about a week to figure out what I was going to do. When I finally came up with a plan I sneaked north across the border into Vancouver, British Columbia; tracked down a Chinese guy who sold me a high price, high quality fake Canadian identity. Only problem was the name: Francois Wong. I don't look like a Francois Wong.

     Next I did some calling around at some far north public health agencies and landed a phone interview with a department director in Yellow Knife, Northwest Territories. It went well and he called back the next day telling me I had the job. The community was growing by leaps and bounds up there because of a new diamond mine. I converted the rest of my American cash and used it to buy a late model Toyota Land Cruiser and some expensive sub-arctic gear. I was broke but starting to sneak in a little survivor smile every now and then. Sometimes it's fun to be the asshole.

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     I turned off the Alaska Highway onto the Laird Highway. Thirteen hour drive ahead if a sudden snowstorm didn't hit. This newly paved road ran through some of the most serious wilderness left in the world. It was a partly cloudy but still cheery late August day and I was blasting out some old school Nirvana. Starting to transition from the sneaky asshole fun feeling of getting away with all my body parts intact to a flat-out everybody-can-kiss-my-ass euphoria.

     The scenery was spectacular and there started to be a lot more wildlife. After the occasional browsing elk and bounding black-tailed deer in B.C., there now were serious-looking bull moose with their following herds of cows. Not long after spotting a few lone woodland bison near the road there were big herds blocking the road I had to stop and wait for. A black bear at one curve, a high-stepping herd of caribou around the next bend. No Ursus horribilis (grizzly) presented itself for viewing yet but they were out there. It was like traveling back to the Ice Age. Would have been no surprise to see a shaggy mastodon lumber out of the mysterious black spruce forest. Nope, no girl trouble out here!

     I drove into the night but the aurora borealis was giving an incredible show so I drove off the road to park by a waterfall on the river to watch for a while. Through my small but powerful binoculars I studied the green and aqua and red veil undulating and shimmering across the far north night sky. Wolves started serenading and I decided to sleep here for a while. Just as I was dozing off the distant wolves stopped suddenly and then something else vocalized close by. Eerie, lonely wailing, long and drawn out, something with a diaphragm more powerful than anything I knew could be out here. I drifted off, but my sleep was tossing and turning. Incredibly I dreamed Nasrine was trying to warn me of some horrible danger.

     When I woke up it was a foggy morning and I still had a bad feeling something wasn't right at this place. Stepped out to relieve myself and heard some weird grunting and whistling coming right out of the trees close by. That was it. I turned and jumped into the Land Cruiser and took off. Driving too fast and then some tall animal walking on two legs appeared out of the fog onto the road in front of me; I swerved to miss it and went over a hill and down into muskeg that stopped the SUV cold. Banged my head pretty good. I tried get the vehicle rolling again but it was half sunk in the muck and wouldn't budge. Felt like I was going to pass out, there was a little blood dripping from my forehead so I crawled out with my thousand-dollar sleeping bag, a few flares, some emergency food bars, my weapon, and laid down not far from the road but not too close, hoping one of the truckers going past would see me. I managed to get inside the sleeping bag and blacked out.

     When I woke up I was moving, fast. Still inside the bag bouncing up against a big, muscular body that was carrying me. A bad stench came off it that made me woozy and unable to do anything or even call out for help. Got drenched going across a large river. Twisted and turned through the forest until we reached a narrow box canyon that had lots of hot springs and even some geysers. My kidnapper climbed down a sheer canyon wall holding onto the sleeping bag with me in it like a sack of potatoes. I blacked out again.

     I woke up on the ground. Sat up and looked around. Lovely little box canyon with a meandering creek and some beautiful aspens but too much like a pit. It was sunny now. A pebble hit my head and then another. Picked flowers covered me, blue crocuses and other flowers and even an orchid which I didn't think could grow in the far North. Turned around and there she was squatting fifteen feet away. Face more human than simian but not by much, covered with about an inch of dark auburn hair from pointed head to the broad feet, muscular arms and legs the same length, thick torso, and large black eyes that were looking off to the side coyly. She had pendulous hair-covered breasts, was definitely female. Something that could not and did not exist, according to everybody except the hundred or so people who claimed they saw one every year. A frigging Sasquatch.
     She gave a sneering grimace with her mouth that I guess was supposed to be a smile, clacked her white teeth together and then stood up. At least seven and a half feet tall, seven hundred pounds. Then Queen Kong took two strides, bent down and picked me up, lifted me to eye level. Couldn't move, just kept repeating my alma mater's acronym over and over...

To be continued...

    

© ChairmanWow (chairmanwow on OLD UKA)
UKArchive ID: 29321
Archived comments for Girl Trouble
Weefatfella on 25-01-2013
Girl Trouble
Photobucket
Hey! That's what happens to babe-magnets.
I suffer badly myself.
Loved it.
Thanks for sharing.
Weefatfella

Author's Reply:
Nice to see somebody else knows the score. It is a curse being a lady's man. Thanks for the comment.

Ralph

amman on 26-01-2013
Girl Trouble
Hey Ralph. You do have a way with (fictional) women! Good prose and excellent descriptive writing. This is very entertaining; can't wait for the continuation.
Cheers.

Author's Reply:
Tony,

Thanks for the great comment. Hope you enjoy the rest as much.

Ralph

Texasgreg on 27-01-2013
Girl Trouble
Good Lord, ArizonaBro!
I hope that was your imagination, not proof of existence, Lol.

Superduper and awaiting the next, asshole!

Greg 🙂

Author's Reply:
Appreciate the concern and Superduper comment TexasBro. By the way, that's Asshole with a capital A. 🙂