JoeStories: Memory by CageyKilo

"Memory"
A Highlander Parody
by Cagey
September 1996

Legalese: None of the Highlandler characters belong to me. Nor do the M&Ms, the cheap American beer, the song "Memory", the much-missed FitzCairn (yeah, I know he's already been covered in the general character disclaimer, but I *miss* him), Joe's neon sign, combat boots, or the year 1974. Nelson is mine, so there. So is the story, so please do not reprint without permission.

WARNING: some language which may be offensive, if the attempt at humor has not already sickened you into quitting by the time you get to it.

"Memory"

Begin Watcher chorus now (with apologies to ALWebber):

"Memory...
All playing at poker,
The Watcher can smile at the table,
(Flashbacks are useful to him).
They remember
the Quickenings they had in the past.
Let the memories live again!"

Early mornings at Joe's were the best. The singles cruising for
partners, the Joe groupies, and even the serious drinkers had
cleared out. Joe had just turned off the neon sign outside the
bar, and the gang relaxed around a round table playing poker
Amanda-style (Aces and Queens wild, cheating strictly
encouraged).

"I'll see your five blue M&Ms, and raise you five more."
Amanda smiled from behind her cards, but the other players
took little notice. She *always* looked like she was holding a
royal flush, St. Peter's keys, and the map leading to Prester
John's fabulous kingdom all at the same time.

"Too steep for my blood." Joe Dawson shook his head and threw
his cards down onto the table. He pushed himself up from his
chair and called for drinks. "What can I get everybody?"

"No more for me, Joe," Duncan said, rather bleary-eyed, from
behind a row of empty glasses. He should have known better
than to let Amanda buy him Scotch all evening before the game.

"I'll take another beer," Richie said, grateful for once that in the
deserted bar he did not have to worry about being carded by
some undercover police officer.

"More of the same, please," Methos--better known to mortals as
Adam Pierson--said absently, studying his cards. He looked
into Amanda's guileless eyes and suppressed a sigh. "I'll see
your bet."

From the bar, Joe chuckled in amusement as Amanda laid her
cards down. "Read 'em and weep, old guy."

Methos threw his cards face down with a grimace, and raised
his hands in a gesture of defeat. "You win again."

As Amanda raked in her winnings, Joe shook his head
bemusedly at Methos. From the bar Joe had been able to see the
Immortal's cards, and last time he checked four of a kind beat
Amanda's flush. He wondered if Methos just didn't like M&Ms,
or if it had more to do with the woman's dazzling smile when
she won. Ah well, he thought tolerantly, the man had good
taste.

On the other hand.... "Here's your beer, Adam." Joe handed
him an entire six-pack, which he had taken from the stash
behind the bar. It was the cheapest, most offensive of the lame
American brands of beer available on the market. Joe had
tasted it once--it had taken three-quarters of a bottle of vodka
and three days to get the taste out of his mouth. Joe kept it
well-hidden under the bar, for fear that someone might try to
revoke his liquor license for selling it. Still, Methos drank
enough of the swill...er, beer, to make it necessary to have
around.

"Uh, Amanda--I don't think you can actually shtack M&Ms,"
Duncan slurred helpfully, interrupting Joe's reverie.

Amanda, looking up from her precariously-balanced winnings,
smiled knowingly. "It just takes determination, Duncan. I
remember one time...."

***

The smoke in the ship's cabin was thick and four days' stale. Amanda had actually died of suffocation once, but since the other card players had needed a break as well--the cigar supply was running low--they decided to call an intermission on the Five Hundred Sixty-Third Annual Immortal M&M Poker Championship until she revived.

(I bet you didn't realize that M&Ms have been around that long)

"You're cheating!" The cry barely fazed the other players, but
they were more than mildly irritated when the Immortal who
had interrupted the game slammed his fist on the table, sending
M&Ms scattering across the room.

Amanda leaned back in her chair and studied the man
thoughtfully. "Nelson, you've been cheating blatantly for the
last five hands. You don't see *me* complaining."

Nelson the Belligerent whined, "But you're cheating better than
me!"

"Skill, my dear. It's called skill."

"Come on," another player demanded. "I've lost six years'
worth of M&M savings. I want a chance to win it back."

Nelson the Unskilled in Cheating drew his sword. "Not until I
get some satisfaction," he growled.

Amanda shook her head in exasperation. "Fine," she shrugged.
She pushed herself carefully up from the table and reached
behind her to pull out...

A handful of M&Ms. Which she threw forcefully at her
opponent.

Nelson the Astonished fell to the floor, clawing at his eyes as
the sticky M&Ms (they *had* been handled quite a bit during
the course of the game, after all) clung to his eyes and clogged
his ears.

"Urp!" he gurgled, rolling hopelessly around the feet of the
players. Somebody helpfully clubbed him with a combat boot,
and finally Nelson the Unconscious lay silently.

Amanda rubbed her hands together in satisfaction. "All right,"
she addressed the other players. "Just let me stack my M&Ms,
and we'll wrap this tournament up!"

***

"That's great," Richie muttered sullenly. Everybody got to have
flashbacks except him. "So whose deal is it?"

Methos took a determined sip of his beer, and then took the
cards. "My turn," he admitted. He shuffled the cards skillfully--
he'd learned something in all those years, after all.
Unfortunately, he was so intent on keeping the cards in place
that he missed the tell-tale sign of Duncan's liquor-inhibited
eyes glazing over.

"You know," Duncan slurred. "That reminds me of the time...."

***

The shuffling cards winked in and out of sight, skillfully
maneuvered by the dealer. "Step right up, gentlemen. Care for
a game of chance?"

Duncan, long past three sheets to the wind, staggered to a halt.
Hugh FitzCairn, long past three times three sheets, ran into him
and nearly sent them both toppling.

"Look, Fitz!" Duncan exclaimed. "A game!"

"Duncan, my good fellow," Fitz mumbled back at him. "That's
not a game. It's a con."

"Bah!" Drunk Duncan pushed his drunker friend back a little,
watching as the dealer plucked three cards from the deck and
displayed them. Two aces and a queen. What luck. That
reminded him of Amanda...

"Hey, hey!" Fitz warned, pinching him painfully on the arm.

"This is no time to go into a flashback!"

Duncan shook his head to clear it. "Oh. Right." He watched as
the dealer turned the cards face down and put his finger on the
back of the queen.

"Just keep your eye on the queen, my boy."

...

The first five times Duncan won.

The next fifteen times he lost.

"Look, my boy," the dealer said genially, sweeping Duncan's
coins into a leather pouch. "Why don't you try a different
game? See these three shells? Well, here's the ball--" he pulled
out a small blue object which looked remarkably like an M&M.
"Just keep your eye on the ball..."

***

"Look, could we play the game please?" Richie snarled, losing
his patience.

The other players blinked and shook their heads, pulling
themselves from the remnants of Duncan's tale. All except for
Methos, that is, who had been steadily drinking beer through Duncan's
account. "Uh, Joe--I think I need another," he said, surprised to
find the can empty.

Richie shook his head. "How can you drink that stuff?" he
asked, as Joe tossed Methos another can. One episode which
Richie might have been able to flashback to--if he could actually
remember all of it--involved a stash of Methos' swill...er, beer
surreptitiously swiped, his motorcycle, and a circus elephant.

"And another thing!" Duncan exclaimed suddenly.

They all looked at him expectantly.

"And another thing!" Duncan insisted again.

"Yes?" Amanda prompted her drunk but lovable friend.

"And another thing...." Duncan trailed off, paused for a moment,
then smiled heart-meltingly. "Oh yeah, I remember. And another
thing--how come you never have any flashbacks?"

Methos took a long draught of his beer, but did not reply. He
looked at the other players calmly.

"You know, I've been meaning to ask you the same thing,"
Amanda said thoughtfully.

Joe rubbed his chin. "Well, I must admit I've been wondering
too. Heck, I've managed to fill in a lot of blanks in
Duncan's record during these poker game/flashback sessions."

Richie peered at him, eyes narrowed. "Yeah, how come you
don't have flashbacks?"

Methos finished the can, set it down carefully on the table, and
sighed. "Do you have any idea just how *many* memories I've
got stuck in my head?" he demanded softly. "I can't even
remember half of them when I want to."

"But why don't you have flashbacks?" Joe persisted.

"Oh, I used to. All the time." Methos shrugged. "But once they
start, I can't stop them. The last time I went into a flashback,
when I came out of it I'd missed all of 1974."

They stared at him, aghast.

He took another beer from the six-pack and popped it open.
"Why do you think I drink this crap?" he said, taking a drink.
Abruptly he pulled a face reminiscent of the elephant man.
"God, that stuff tastes terrible. I usually hide it, but...." He
finished off the beer quickly. "The taste of the beer keeps me
focused. If I keep drinking it, I can't think about anything other
than how terrible it tastes. So no flashbacks." He smiled, but it
was tinged with misery.

"Oh, Methos, I'm so sorry," Amanda whispered.

"Hey man, me too," Richie added.

An indistinguishable mumble came from under the table, where Duncan had slid into a heap of M&M-covered Highlander.

"Let me get you another beer," Joe said firmly.

*end*

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