The Dali Llamas

[troubled sleep]

=waves= Hello! This is my first post in a loooooooooong time. So please do not shoot me if I did something wrong! If this story is really rather terrible, please let me know straight-away and I will attempt to make it a bit more palatable.

 

Also, I hope that my choice of a Buddhist Motorcycle gang doesn't offend anyone as that was NOT MY INTENTION!! So, again, please don't shoot me! Or if you do feel inclined to shoot me, there is a rather detailed waiting list, so you might wish to jump on that as soon as possible otherwise you're not likely to ever get a shot in edge-ways.

 

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The scene was all too familiar: a squad car with several motorcycles pulled over to the side of the highway outside of Cleveland. Methodically, the police officer flipped through the little plastic licenses, copying each of the names down onto a well worn ticket pad while the five motorcyclists stared at the ground.

 

“So let me get this straight,” the officer said after a moment, “you’re part of a Buddhist motorcycle gang?”

 

“Yep, that’s right” one of the five motorcyclist said, smiling pleasantly as he removed his orange helmet. He was dress completely in orange from his leather vest and t-shirt to the helmet, which included an engraved flaming llama. His companions were similarly dressed in customary biker leather, though their leather was either white or yellow, and their weatherbeaten helmets were etched with noticeable smaller llamas.

 

“Let me introduce us,” the biker in orange said, continuing to smile, “We’re the Dali Llamas, you know, llamas. With two ‘l’s. Like the animal.” he said, trying to explain the intended play-on-words to the stone faced cop. The police officer, however, showed no sign of amusement, and continued to stare down at the bikers through her aviator sun-glasses.

 

"And only one 'a' in the Dali. We tried to get two 'a's, but Dalai was already copyrighted and our lawyers just weren't clever enough." one of the other motorcyclists said sadly.

 

“Right. So I’m Kevin,” the main motorcyclist in orange continued, “I’m sort of the spiritual leader of the group. That’s Mike,” he said, indicating a yellow clad biker behind him, “Chad’s over there in the white, Jason’s the one with the red hair next to Chad, and Steve, the apprentice spiritual leader, you see next to me.” Kevin said, indicating the blond-headed Steve who was waving furiously at the police officer. Following Steve’s lead, all of the other motorcyclists began waving furiously as well.

 

“Hello, Hiya!, Hi, How are you?” Mike, Chad, Jason, and Steve all said at once.

 

The police officer made no response, just raised an eyebrow and began scribbling charges on the ticket pad. Kevin winced, and bit his lip at his reflection in the officer’s sunglasses.

 

“Hey Kevin!” Steve said much to the cop’s annoyance and Kevin’s relief, “You forgot about Vinny and Peter.”

 

“Oh! Yes, thank you Steve,” Kevin bowed his head in thanks before turning back to face the police officer who had, much to Kevin’s continued relief, stopped writing on her ticket-pad. “Please allow me to introduce our other traveling companions,” he turned in his seat to unhook a large stuffed gorilla that had previously been strapped to the back of his seat. The monkey itself was an unremarkable everyday stuffed animal. True enough, Chad had actually won him once, long ago by ceremoniously knocking over a series of sacred empty milk bottles at a county fair in Iowa. It was rather the bright orange “FREE TIBET!” t-shirt the doll wore and the “TIBET OR BUST” sign clutched tightly in its plastic fists that threw the cop, and indeed many of the cars passing by on the road, off.

 

“This,” Kevin said, setting the gorilla down on his lap, “Is Vinny, or Vin as we sometimes call him. He’s one of our most revered companions. More of a mascot, really. Helps to humanize our message of peace and meditation, you know appeal to all age groups. After all, who doesn’t love stuffed gorillas?” Kevin’s fellow motorcyclists all began nodding emphatically to the cop to try and back their leader up.

 

“Uh huh.” the cop said, looking longingly out at the highway as cars sped by at what she was certain was three times the posted speed limit. Annoyed that she was missing all of those chances to write tickets, she began to finish writing the half-done ticket for the motorcyclists.

“Oh, Please, let’s not get into that whole ticket thing until we’re all properly acquainted!” Kevin said nervously. “I mean, at least wait until I get Vinny back into place and I introduce Peter!” With a sigh, the cop once again lowered her pad.

 

“Wonderful” Kevin said, smiling as the cop capped her pen. He hastily finished re-affixing Vinny to his seat then pointed over at Chad. “Now, over there in my companion Chad’s side-car is Peter. Chad, why don’t you tell our friend Officer Sune here a little about Peter?” Kevin said, beaming.

 

“ Umm...OK” Chad said, pointing to his passenger, a man in normal street clothes with disheveled brown hair. The man wasn’t moving and was slouched forward as though asleep in the motorcycle’s side-car. “This is Peter...he’s an evangelical atheist.” at the mention of his name, the man in the side-car suddenly sprung up to a seating position, a cheap digital camera in his hands. Without warning, he suddenly began snapping pictures of the cop, the Dali Llamas, the squad car, the highway, passing cars, and the large quantity of road kill, most of which were purple wombats piled up at the side of the road after being killed by desensitized and highly successful business executives on their daily commutes into Cleveland. “He..umm, likes to take pictures.” Chad said, unexpectedly donning a pair of heavy Jackie Kennedy sunglasses against the blinding flash. From behind her aviator glasses, the police officer blinked menacingly.

 

“So I’ve noticed.” the Officer said in a serious tone. “Could you please stop, sir.” Peter, however, showed no sign of stopping. Nor did any of the Dali Llamas, now all donning thick sunglasses, spring into action and stop him. “Sir, I’ll have to ask you to stop. I demand you to stop! In the name of the Cleveland highway patrol Stop!! STOP!” the increasingly enraged police officer said, raising her voice to be heard over the constant clicking on the camera.

 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Kevin said from behind his thick glasses, “he’ll run out of pictures in a minute. Either that or he’ll run out of battery. Or else he’ll just fall asleep again then deny everything once he wakes up.” Kevin shook his head. “He’s a clinical incorrigible liar, you know, but we get grants from three major governments plus free psychiatric care and therapy for life from the U.S. Government if we cart him around with us, so it’s worth it in the end. There we go, he’s spent.” Kevin said as Peter slumped forward once again. “Wow, that was a long one...how long was that Jason?”

 

“Two minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” Jason chimed from behind him.

 

“Wow, usually his paparazzi attacks are much shorter...he’ll be out for several hours at least. Well, now that we’re all introduced-“ he stopped mid-sentence and winced as the police officer resumed filling out their ticket. “So...Steve, is there anything I left out?” Kevin asked casually with only the slightest note of panic in his voice.

 

“We do weddings!” Mike called from the back of the row.

 

“Yes, weddings and Bat Mitzvahs!” Jason added.

 

“And we’ve got these great key-chains, if you’d like to invest in one.” Steve said, reaching into a pocket of his yellow leather vest to pull out a hand full of llama shaped key-chains.

 

“No, that’s alright.” The police officer said as she finished filling in the blanks on the ticket, tore it off her pad, and handed it unceremoniously to Kevin whose face immediately fell.

 

“You know...we could talk about this.” Kevin said, pleadingly, “Maybe meditate a bit. That’s what we’ll do, we’ll meditate for a bit. Clears the soul right away–Jason, you’ve got the meditation mats, right?”

 

“Got ‘em right here!” Jason said, pointing to several rolled mats strapped across the back of his motorcycle.

 

“Great, we’ll just set up and meditate for a minute. Jason, why don’t you just–“

 

”I don’t think so, sir. I’ve got to get back to work. Have a nice day.” the cop said flatly, walking back to her squad car and leaving a rather sullen gang of Buddhist motorcyclists.

 

“Well, now what?” Steve asked after a moment of silence.

 

“Well, we must eliminate all outside distractions in order to achieve enlightenment, right?” his fellow bikers nodded, “So I guess we’ll just have to pay the ticket...” Mike said, shrugging. Chad, Jason, and Steve all nodded sadly in agreement.

 

“No, I’ve got a better idea...” Kevin said.

 

“What?” Chad asked.

 

“Meditate?” Jason asked hopefully.

 

“Nope.” Kevin answered

 

“We could fast!” Mike suggested.

 

“Not quite.”

 

“I’ve got these The Art of Happiness books on tape, we could take turns listening to the blessed advice of the Dali Lama!” Steve said, reaching for his derelict tape player.

 

“Oh I have a better idea! We can do all of that! We can sit by a river and fast, then we could marvel at the complexities of the simple river current, and compare its twists and turns to our own life while we listen to The Art of happiness!!” Mike said breathlessly, “Hey, if it can work for Siddhartha, it can work for us!” all of the other subordinate bikers nodded in agreement, then turned to Kevin.

 

Their orange clad leader had sat clutching the ticket throughout this whole banter. Slowly, he let out a long breath, then released the ticket, allowing it to flutter to the ground.

 

“I’ve still got a better idea...” Kevin said.

 

“Hire a lawyer?” Steve, ever practical suggested as the ticket was blown into the roadway. Everyone but Kevin winced as the small slip of paper was crushed under the wheel of a large periwinkle mini-van.

 

“No, not that either...we’re going to have a change in destination!” Kevin said, turning around to Vinny, the faux gorilla mascot, “We’ve going to...CANADA!!” he said, slapping a “Canada” sticker over the “Tibet” so that Vinny’s sign now read “Canada or BUST!”

 

“Come on, we’ve got a government to outrun!!” Kevin said, quickly sliding on his llama helmet before powering up his motorcycle and speeding away into outgoing traffic. His fellow bikers all exchanged marginally worried glances before donning their own helmets and driving away after their leader.

Edited December 27, 2004 by troubled sleep

[Quincunx]

After reading, Tzimfemme steps up to the line of people waiting to shoot troubled sleep, toting a big grin and an equally large gun with multiple rounds. "Pardon me, excuse me, coming through," she chanted, cutting into the line bullets-first, then stepping sideways into the new gap in the line, then swiveling the gun every-which-way as the people released their safetys and tried to return fire. Once the noise dies down, only Tzimfemme is left standing, blood-spattered and still grinning. She tosses the gun off to the side (one of her overworked portals opens up to carry it away, then snaps shut) and gives a thumbs-up to troubled sleep.

[reverie]

**applauds** Bravo... Take a bow... Very Original and very funny... Write more... really.

 

rev...

[Peredhil]

This is marvelous.

 

I took the liberty of changing "through" to "threw", I hope you don't mind.

 

*hugs*

 

P

[Zariah]

Dang! You are a really good writer. You should write a collection of short stories and try to get it published! I absolutely LOVED this! You should be proud of yourself and know that you ARE talented. And you can deny it all you want, but you have Pennites who think you are grand. Write more! Please?!

[troubled sleep]

=beams= Wow, thank you! =bows a little awkwardly= This is my first story in quite some time, I'm glad that you all liked it

 

No one paid you off to say all of these nice things...did they?

[Zariah]

No, no one paid me money. I am just a fan and I will be watching for more!

[Gryphon]

I loved this story. It came across very well. In particular I loved the interaction with the cop - the way that the leader of the Dali Llamas kept trying to stall and hope that she wouldn't give them a ticket was very amusing and realistic in it's portrail.

 

Well done.