Montreal
June, 1990
Quebec's largest city is one built on bilingualism. Back in the mid-18th century, after the British took Canada from the French, the locals there were prepared for a forced English assimilation.
Fortunately, the American Revolution made the Queen's loyal subjects rethink their approach to Quebec. In a brilliant placating maneuver, the British passed the Quebec Act in 1774, providing the Quebecois with a charter of rights allowing them to keep their French language, culture, and Catholic religion.
Meaning that from the very beginning of Quebec's history, bilingualism has been an act of compromise, built on an understanding that peacefully shared physical space is more important than a specific shared language.
This made Barney Bussett's move to Montreal that much easier. He wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, and he surely wasn't learning French anytime soon.
After all, language wasn't that important to the horny gals who frequented "Balançoire Banane" every Tuesday and Thursday night. It was how Barney Bussett, known better as "Sharp Shooter," could shake his buns.
Barney's routine seldom changed but it never left the women unsatisfied.
Born and raised in Texas, Bussett dressed as a cowboy, gun holster and all, and slowly and seductively stripped off every last garment, all the while dancing and gyrating to M.C. Hammer's "U Can't Touch This."
In true Bussett style.
Barney's chiseled, sculpted frame, oiled and pumped to perfection, was eye-pleasing to the ladies. They also loved how he swung his cock.
"Your devotion to the helicopter just makes me smile," one brunette said to him as he came off stage at the end of a set.
"He just swings it around and around and around," said her friend.
Barney was grabbed by the arms and taken to a table of five eager women, in town for a wild bachelorette party.
"We're each gonna take turns stroking your cock, and then we want you to shoot all over Brenda," Tina outlined for him, mincing no words.
As planned, each woman had a tug at Bussett's pulsating prick.
"In contrast to my favorite song, ladies, you CAN touch this," he joked, proudly sticking out his fat, sturdy erection.
That always got a laugh.
He brought the small but jovial crowd to a fevered pitch when his long, hot eruption drenched the bride-to-be, splashing all over her cleavage and neck.
"This was a blast," gushed one of the friends.
Barney was loving life.
Bussett was a hard worker who lived for nights like these. And he was a budding playwright to boot.
It was a long road to get here.
*************
Temple, Texas
June, 1982
"For the 18th time, Bussett, no!," Sheila exclaimed, slamming down her empty shot glass and demanding another.
"Pleeeeeeeeeeeese, it's just a small part," he pleaded.
Sheila sighed.
"Dallas 2?! What the fuck kinda name is that for a play?" she asked sarcastically.
Now it was Barney who sighed.
"Look, it's science fiction, but with a sexy twist," he enticed.
"I read the script, Bussett. It's...kinda interesting, but...," she went on.
"But what?" he asked.
"But I'm not an actress!" she insisted.
"Sheila, it's an amateur play, at an amateur playhouse," he told her.
Further contemplation led Sheila to this resolution.
"Look, Bussett. You're a fun guy. I like hanging out with you. I like watching you dance around in that thong at 'Guns of the Dusty Planes (laugh).' And I have to admit, you're pretty good in the sack. But this just isn't something I wanna do, okay?"
The look of dejection on his face told the story.
"Okay," he mumbled.
She kissed the top of his head and left The Cactus. The bartender came over to refill Bussett's glass of Meister Brau, but he waved him off.
"I thought the work was over when I finished writing this play," he said to the bartender. "Now, the real work has begun - casting this frickin thing."
The bartender looked at him. He studied him.
"Wait. Aren't you the guy who crashed the Temple Ghost Tour bus into a tree?" he wondered aloud with a smile.
"Ugh, I'll just take the check," Barney said.
"That was funny as fuck. We were watching that on the news here," he howled. "Hey, everybody! It's the guy who crashed the Temple Ghost Tour bus into a tree!"
There was clapping and laughter.
"Eh, pour me another," Bussett figured.
The bartender smiled.
"This one's on me, fella," he said.
*************
"Okay, okay, so, the player controls an insect-like creature called a Yar who must nibble or shoot through a barrier in order to fire his Zorlon Cannon into the breach," Doug eagerly informed the young gentleman, roughly 18 or 19, who was considering buying the aptly described game.
"The objective," Doug said, taking hold of the controller and proceeding to give quite a tutorial while he played level after leve, "is to destroy the evil Qotile, which exists on the other side of the barrier. The Qotile can attack the Yar, even if the barrier is undamaged, by turning into the Swirl and shooting across the screen.
"I mean, in early levels, the player is warned before the Swirl is fired and can retreat to a safe distance to dodge the attack. The Yar can hide from a pursuing destroyer missile within a 'neutral zone' in the middle of the screen, but the Yar cannot shoot while in the zone. The Swirl can kill the Yar anywhere, even inside the neutral zone."
"Uh-huh," the young man managed to get in, in between passionate, informative bursts from Doug.
"To destroy the Qotile or the Swirl, the player has to -," Doug went on, but was interrupted.
"I think I'll take it," the young man said.
"Cool, cool," Doug answered, walking him over to the register.
The transaction was finalized and Doug had himself another sale.
"'Dig' Doug, you are a heck of a salesman," Dick complimented him.
"Eh, wish I was making them. Not selling them," Doug had to admit.
"You still writing that one game?" Dick asked curiously.
"Yeah, but it's a vast universe," he said. "It's gonna take a long time to lay the groundwork."
Dick looked at his Casio watch.
"You workin' over at Krendy Krafts tonight?" Doug asked.
"Yeah," Dick answered, realizing that was coming up in a hurry.
"You can hit the road early, Parker Brothers. We're dead today anyway," Doug relieved him.
