it, I knew that there was a Penelope waiting out there for me, and all I had to do was find her.”
“How do you know her name wasn’t Gertrude or Beatrice?” asked Max.
“The poem says it’s Penelope.”
“The poem also says that the poet will find her.”
“The poet’s been dead for seven millennia. I looked him up. He never married anyone called Penelope.”
“So based on three lines, you’ve wasted 43 years searching for a woman who either never existed or who died seven thousand years ago?”
“There were a lot of lines! I only quoted three. And she’s out there somewhere. If there’s a woman for every man, then she’s the woman for me. The only woman.”
“How will you know her when you see her?” asked Sinderella.
“I’ll know her,” said Jones with absolute, almost devout, certainty.
“I wish you luck, Faraway Jones,” said Sinderella, walking over to him. “But just in case you don’t find her, I’d hate to think of you going to your grave without ever having kissed a real, flesh-and-blood woman.”
She put her arms around his neck and leaned over to kiss him, and he almost fell off his chair avoiding her.
“I’m sorry, and I don’t mean any insult,” he said, getting to his feet, “but I’ve got to keep myself pure for her, just as I know she’s keeping herself pure for me.”
“You’ve got a funny notion of pure,” offered Max.
“That’s okay,” said Jones, walking to the door. “As far as I’m concerned, all of you have a funny notion of love.” He paused. “I’ve wasted a whole day here. It’s time to go off looking for her again.”
“Be careful,” warned Achmed of Alphard. “There’s a war going on out there.”
Jones smiled. “If Men and aliens and meteor showers and supernovas couldn’t keep me from searching for my Penelope, you don’t really think a little thing like a war can stop me, do you?”
“Wars have stopped people from more important quests,” said Achmed.
Jones smiled. “You don’t know Faraway Jones,” he said, opening the door. “And there are no more important quests.”
And with that, he was gone.
There was a long silence. Finally Bet-a-World O’Grady pulled out a wad of banknotes. “Anyone want to start a pool?”
“On whether he finds her, or on whether she exists?” asked Baker.
O’Grady shrugged. “Either one,” he said with a smile.
Nicodemus Mayflower sighed and shook his head. “He’s not exactly the brightest being traveling the spaceways, is he?”
“If he’s got a pet, he may not even be the brightest thing in his ship,” chimed in Three-Gun Max with a chuckle.
“Well, I thought he was sweet,” said Sinderella.
“So’s a bag of sugar,” said Max. “But you wouldn’t want to go off and live with it.”
“You’re too cynical by half,” she shot back. “I wish someone like Faraway Jones was looking for me.”
“No you don’t,” said Max.
“And why not?” demanded Sinderella.
Max laughed. “He might find you.”
“He’s a lot better than you !”!"!” she snapped.
“Hell, we’re all a lot better than Max,” said Baker. “But that don’t mean Faraway Jones is Mister Right.”
“I created Mister Right,” said Sinderella. “I’ll settle for Faraway Jones any old day.”
“You mean you met Mister Right,” Max corrected her.
“I meant what I said.”
“You know we ain’t letting you get away without telling us the details,” said Max.
“Why not?” she replied after some consideration. “Who knows? You might even learn something, though I doubt it.”
Building Mister Right
I was raised to be a courtesan (said Sinderella). I was schooled in the tantric arts, I was taught to move and dress seductively, I was instructed in all the many ways a woman can please a man and I was warned what attitudes and behaviors to avoid.
When I was sixteen I went to work on Xanadu, the pleasure planet in the Belial Cluster. My clientele included some of the greatest names
“How do you know her name wasn’t Gertrude or Beatrice?” asked Max.
“The poem says it’s Penelope.”
“The poem also says that the poet will find her.”
“The poet’s been dead for seven millennia. I looked him up. He never married anyone called Penelope.”
“So based on three lines, you’ve wasted 43 years searching for a woman who either never existed or who died seven thousand years ago?”
“There were a lot of lines! I only quoted three. And she’s out there somewhere. If there’s a woman for every man, then she’s the woman for me. The only woman.”
“How will you know her when you see her?” asked Sinderella.
“I’ll know her,” said Jones with absolute, almost devout, certainty.
“I wish you luck, Faraway Jones,” said Sinderella, walking over to him. “But just in case you don’t find her, I’d hate to think of you going to your grave without ever having kissed a real, flesh-and-blood woman.”
She put her arms around his neck and leaned over to kiss him, and he almost fell off his chair avoiding her.
“I’m sorry, and I don’t mean any insult,” he said, getting to his feet, “but I’ve got to keep myself pure for her, just as I know she’s keeping herself pure for me.”
“You’ve got a funny notion of pure,” offered Max.
“That’s okay,” said Jones, walking to the door. “As far as I’m concerned, all of you have a funny notion of love.” He paused. “I’ve wasted a whole day here. It’s time to go off looking for her again.”
“Be careful,” warned Achmed of Alphard. “There’s a war going on out there.”
Jones smiled. “If Men and aliens and meteor showers and supernovas couldn’t keep me from searching for my Penelope, you don’t really think a little thing like a war can stop me, do you?”
“Wars have stopped people from more important quests,” said Achmed.
Jones smiled. “You don’t know Faraway Jones,” he said, opening the door. “And there are no more important quests.”
And with that, he was gone.
There was a long silence. Finally Bet-a-World O’Grady pulled out a wad of banknotes. “Anyone want to start a pool?”
“On whether he finds her, or on whether she exists?” asked Baker.
O’Grady shrugged. “Either one,” he said with a smile.
Nicodemus Mayflower sighed and shook his head. “He’s not exactly the brightest being traveling the spaceways, is he?”
“If he’s got a pet, he may not even be the brightest thing in his ship,” chimed in Three-Gun Max with a chuckle.
“Well, I thought he was sweet,” said Sinderella.
“So’s a bag of sugar,” said Max. “But you wouldn’t want to go off and live with it.”
“You’re too cynical by half,” she shot back. “I wish someone like Faraway Jones was looking for me.”
“No you don’t,” said Max.
“And why not?” demanded Sinderella.
Max laughed. “He might find you.”
“He’s a lot better than you !”!"!” she snapped.
“Hell, we’re all a lot better than Max,” said Baker. “But that don’t mean Faraway Jones is Mister Right.”
“I created Mister Right,” said Sinderella. “I’ll settle for Faraway Jones any old day.”
“You mean you met Mister Right,” Max corrected her.
“I meant what I said.”
“You know we ain’t letting you get away without telling us the details,” said Max.
“Why not?” she replied after some consideration. “Who knows? You might even learn something, though I doubt it.”
Building Mister Right
I was raised to be a courtesan (said Sinderella). I was schooled in the tantric arts, I was taught to move and dress seductively, I was instructed in all the many ways a woman can please a man and I was warned what attitudes and behaviors to avoid.
When I was sixteen I went to work on Xanadu, the pleasure planet in the Belial Cluster. My clientele included some of the greatest names
Similar Books
