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R e Vo M a g a z i n e
Tarnsman of Gor?
The book
stood out amongst the other
selections quite like the bright
crimson hair of the man on its
cover. It certainly didn’t look
like a teen novel. Lily glanced
down the isles, a furtive glance
to the left and then to the right,
before she plucked the book
off the old wire rack. Judging
from the condition of the book
she was not the first person to
thumb through it either. Maybe
it would be interesting? The
guy on the cover sort of looked
like someone she might
encounter in one of her Final
Fantasy games. What the hell?
She had a few hours to kill. Lily
smacked the aged paperback
against her palm, offered a
smile to the nosey little clerk at
the desk, and wandered back
to her second home - the fossil
of a sofa in the back.
For the last month or so
she had taken to coming
here during the worst of the
afternoon when the humidity
was so awful that her t-shirt
molded to the curve of her
back. It was air-conditioned,
she was entertained and, best
of all, the coffee was free. Win-
win-win. It didn’t take long for
her to get immersed. It also
didn’t take long for Mrs. Whitley
(the nosey little clerk) to make
her way to the back.
“Oh, Lily! You don’t want
to read that. Its nothing
but a perverted old man
promulgating his own sick
desires. No respectable girl
would ever be caught reading
such filth!” Mrs. Whitley was
on her way to snatching the
book from Lily’s fingers before
Lily even realized that she had
entered the room.
“How am I to recognize filth
if I do not expose myself to
it, Mrs. Whitley?” It was the
same charm she used on her
schoolmarms back in Jersey.
Lily smiled at her and managed
to pull the book back and tuck
it almost demurely behind her
back as she backspaced from
betwixt the coffee table and
couch.
“I’ll bring it back tomorrow!” she
called over her shoulder on her
way toward the door.
Evidently, Mrs. Whitley had yet
to learn one thing about Lily.
Telling her not to do something
was the quickest way to get
her to do exactly that.
And that is how Lily found
herself learning about Tarl
Cabot and his journey to this
faraway planet called Gor.
Much of the rest of the day
she found herself down in the
dunes on the beach, far from
the throng of half-dressed
sunbathers, surfers and other
beach-goers, with her nose in
Tarnsman of Gor. It wasn’t until
the sun started to drift toward
the water and her stomach
gave a roar of protest that she
realized she would need to
find food. Even then she was
reluctant to stop reading. Part
of her wished that she had
been the one in the woods that
night instead of Tarl.
It was that dreamy
unwillingness to put the
story away that rendered her
oblivious to the Diavel racing
down the boulevard. The
screeching shear of rubber on
concrete and reckless skid of
the bike was rendered by the
mental capacity (or current lack
thereof) of its rider. Cue slow
motion. Lily rips her eyes away
from the pages at the scent of
burning rubber and screech
of the tires as the rider tries to
overcorrect.
Lily’s Adventures in Gor
A tale of one woman’s adventure through the Gorolympics