ROGER'S FABULOUS VOYAGES, PART 1, CHAPTER 4. (standard:humor, 1866 words) [4/6] show all parts
Author: Danny Zil	Added: Jun 11 2012	Views/Reads: 2160/1642	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Roger meets Zog and Karob, two Albanian peasants on Border Patrol.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

a country called Greater.” 

Norman peered at him through his thick glasses. “I named it after
Albania,” he explained. 

“Albania?...Oh Albania! Right. Ah yes. That's what I meant to say. Silly
mistake...Wait a minute, isn't Albania that small country which refused 
to join everybody else hundreds of years ago when all the countries on 
Earth united?” 

Norman beamed. “The very place! Always admired it. Hence the new name
for Earth.” 

“Well if you like Albania so much why didn't you go and live there
before?” Roger asked. 

“I tried to,” Norman said, “but the Boss told me to piss off.” 

“That wasn't very nice of him,” Roger sympathised. “It must have hurt
your feelings.” 

“Hurt my feelings!? It ruined my life. I was never the same after that.
I think that's why my wife left me.” 

“What a pity,” Roger consoled. “Did she go off with another chap?” 

“He was a toilet cleaner,” Norman admitted. 

Roger raised his eyebrows and lowered his snigger. 

“Funny thing was,” mused Norman, “they got into Albania. Seems they
needed skilled workers like him so they were welcomed.” 

“Well they won't be there now,” Roger said consolingly. “I suppose even
the Albanians have left.” 

Norman smiled proudly. “That's where you're wrong. They refused to
believe this story about the Cloud. Thought it was a trick to get them 
out of Albania.” 

Roger sat up. “You mean they're still here?” 

“Of course.” 

“Well hadn't we go and warn them?” 

“We can try,” Norman replied. “But you're wasting your time. The Fleet
Commander himself went to see them but they wouldn't move.” 

“Maybe they'll believe me!” Roger said excitedly. “I've actually seen
the Black Cloud!” 

“Let's go then. We can take an air-mobile. Won't take long. But I'm
telling you now – you're wasting your time.” 

“Nonsense! I'm sure I'll be able to convince them!” Roger enthused as
they left the Control Room. 

Norman smiled. “No harm in trying again,” he murmured and followed Roger
out. 

There was a line of sleek air-mobiles parked alongside the Control Room
and the door of the first slid open as they approached. 

“Hi guys, I'm Annie. Where to?” the attractive female android driver
asked. 

“Albania,” Norman answered. 

“What again?” 

Norman looked a bit uncomfortable. 

“You know what they told you last time?” Annie reminded him. 

“This is different,” Norman replied confidently. “Roger here's actually
seen the Black Cloud. They might believe him.” 

“Suit yourself,” Annie said, starting the air-mobile. 

Roger and Norman strapped in and the air-mobile drifted along then
gathered speed and rose to its cruising height of one hundred feet. 

“For your pleasure and enjoyment,” Annie said, turning to them, “would
you like classical music, modern music, bloody Albanian folk music or a 
hand-job?” 

Roger flushed. 

“Nothing thanks,” Norman told her. “We're going to talk.” 

“Kinky, eh?” Annie said, leering at them. 

The air-mobile picked up speed and soon they were being whisked towards
the fabled land. Roger gazed down at the scenery awhile then turned to 
Norman. 

“So is this Boss chap in charge of Albania then?” he asked. 

“Ah yes, the Boss,” Norman gushed, proud to be able to even mention his
name. “Marvellous chap he is, the Boss of Albania.” 

“What's so marvellous about him?” 

“The way he's dragged Albania into the 21st Century.” 

Roger frowned. “But we're in the 41st!” 

“Well...” Norman said, shrugging. “You don't want too much progress all
at once. Bad for the country. Best to take things slowly, that way 
people can get accustomed to change gradually. That's the Boss's 
theory.” 

Roger nodded. “Is he a popular ruler then, this Boss chap?” “He
certainly is,” Norman said expansively. “He won by a landslide victory 
at the last election.” 

“So he won easily?” 

“Sort of. All his opponents were buried in a landslide a few days before
voting. Shrewd, eh?” 

“Oh yes, very shrewd. Well if he's so clever what has he done for the
country? I saw a documentary about Albania once. It said that most of 
the people were starving.” 

“Weeds out the weaklings, doesn't it!?” Norman told him, eyes twinkling
behind the bottle-bottom lenses. “Sort of natural selection if you 
like. Clever people, the Albanians.” 

“Hungry people, the Albanians in the documentary,” Roger responded. 

They looked out at the scenery awhile as the air-mobile whizzed along.
Everywhere there was evidence of a once mighty civilization now 
abandoned – forests grew thick and luxuriant, flowers and grass were 
lush and plentiful, rivers and streams sparkled, the air was smog free 
and endangered species breathed sighs of relief behind bushes and 
trees. 

“So what sort of things has the Boss done for Albania?” Roger asked,
after the above paragraph had conveniently broken up their dialogue. 

“Well his first move after he came to power was to break off relations
with other countries, including itself. The Albanians couldn't speak to 
each other for weeks.” 

Roger looked puzzled. “So how did they communicate?” 

“They didn't,” Norman admitted. “So that law was dropped. But the Boss
was just new at the ruling sort of thing so you have to make 
allowances. After that, Albania was declared a no-go area and people 
could talk to each other but they were forbidden to move from the spot 
they were on.” 

“That's a bit silly,” Roger remarked. “Didn't they get cramp from
standing in the one place?” 

Norman shook his head. “The law wasn't as strict as that – they could
jump up and down, flex their legs a bit, so they didn't have too much 
to complain about.” 

“I suppose that law was scrapped as well?” 

“It was,” Norman admitted. “But it had given the Boss time to work out
his Modernisation Programme.” 

“So what was that?” 

“A two-part programme,” Norman explained, taking off his glasses and
cleaning them. The early afternoon sun sparkled in his watery myopic 
eyes, making them look like two tired pale blue buttons in runny egg 
white. “Oh you've moved,” he said to Annie, thinking it was Roger. 
“Well his first plan was the Construction Project,” he went on, still 
addressing the Android. “Sweeping modernisation took place all over 
Albania when a Transport Café was built near the border.” 

He put his glasses back on and thought Roger had moved into the back
seat again. “Sorry, I thought you were having a go at piloting. 
Airmobile a bit tricky to handle, was it? Not to worry. Where was I?” 

“Psychiatrically disturbed,” Annie muttered. 

“The Modernisation Programme,” Roger reminded him. 

“Ah yes – part two of the plan was the Illiteracy Project. Did you know
that when the Boss came to power, 10% of Albanians were illiterate? 
Within two years, only two years mark you, he had it up to 20%.” 

Roger looked at Norman anew. Was there a trace of something unbalanced
behind those thick lenses? 

“So how did the Boss raise money for these Projects – by raising taxes?”
“Initially yes but the people started complaining when taxation went up 
so that was when the Boss pulled one of his master strokes. He dropped 
all taxes completely.” 

“That was his master stroke?” 

Norman beamed and shook his head. “He abolished salaries as well. That
was his master stroke!” 

Roger was mercifully spared further details on the glories of the Boss
and his subjects as the airmobile slowed then coasted down to a halt. 

“We are now one hundred yards from the Albanian border,” Annie
announced. “Which means we are just outside official Albanian 
wind-breaking space. Passengers to be humiliated please alight.” 

“Here, you better carry this,” Norman said, handing Roger a white flag
which had been conveniently lying on the floor. “Just in case they 
think we're invading.” 

He jumped out and Roger followed. 

“The border!” Norman told him, pointing to a dilapidated wooden fence
not far away. “Albania!” he said and sighed ecstatically. 

Roger looked towards the fence. It ran crookedly across the countryside,
wasn't very high and bits of it were missing. Some sheep were grazing 
along it and they wandered through the gaps at will. 

“It's not much of a fence,” he remarked. 

“Ah but wait till you see the warning notice,” Norman told him. “Let's
go.” 

They strolled on till they came to the sign which had been nailed to a
post not far from the fence. It said, ‘YOU ARE APPROACHING THE ALBANIAN 
BORDER. YOU CAN'T COME IN UNLESS YOU'RE AN ALBANIAN. SIGNED, THE BOSS 
OF ALBANIA'. 

“How's that for defence?” Norman said proudly. “You see, nobody can get
in now unless they're an Albanian.” 

“Stunning,” agreed Roger as they walked on. 


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