--A good cup of coffee--
That's all Peter Black wanted from life. What he got was far different. Peter Black — boring Peter Black — was about to fall, neck deep, into a world of spies, conspiracies and aliens.
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Art LaVigne leads the reader through a brilliantly funny adventure, filled with clever twists and turns that will keep you on the edge of your seat page after page. Witty and fresh, The Incredibly Boring Life of Peter Black is anything but boring. The journey of this awkward bumbler is exciting and hilarious! You will be on the edge of your seat and rolling on the floor laughing at the same time! Arthur LaVigne is a bright, articulate and dynamic speaker with a long history of public performance in the world of Square Dance Calling. LaVigne’s first jaunt into the world of fiction is an outstanding example of perfection in action. The Incredibly Boring Life of Peter Black is a testament to A. H. LaVigne’s great sense of humor as well as his ability to tell an exciting story in a way that keeps an audience pinned to the edge of their seats with interest.
Copyright © 2000 by Arthur H. Lavigne. All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic
or mechanical means including information and retrieval systems without
prior permission from the publisher in writing.
Sully's Bar was just a few blocks from Peter's apartment, so he usually walked. But tonight he thought was too cold even for November, so he decided to take his vintage Yugo. Since work ended, all he could think about was Clara, the phone call and what Mr. Rufus said. He decided what she was doing was none of his business, and if that is what he had to tell Rufus then so be it!
Spot on eight o'clock, he pulled into Sully's parking lot. He got out of the car and walked into the bar.
Sully's was particularly crowded since the big pay-per- view wrestling show was being shown on Sully's super wide screen TV. That was the type of crowd that frequented the establishment. They were not Peter's crowd, but it was something to do. Besides, if a few beers could help him forget about his terrible day and his terrible life, then it was okay with him. Anyway, Vince always ended up buying the beers, so what was there to lose.
Vince was sitting at a corner table with a perfect view of the TV. Peter figured he must have arrived straight after work to get such a good table. The amount of empty beers in front of him confirmed this.
"Pete! My buddy. How's going?" Vince was definitely loaded already. Peter ordered a beer and was ready to drink his troubles away. The show started promptly at 8:30. By 8:34, Vince was out like a light. Peter sat there holding his beer, his eyes were focused on the grapplers on the tube, but his mind was elsewhere. He looked up at the clock. It was 9:02. Even if he wanted to go, he missed Clara’s secret meeting behind Roy's Gym.
"Now I'll never know," he thought. He took a sip of his beer. He had been holding it in his hand for almost an hour and now it was flat and warm. Peter looked at his warm, flat beer and sighed. This was the night he was planning to get smashed so he could forget about his terrible day, and he hadn't even had more than a sip.
He sat back and thought about his life a little more and at 9:34 he decided to leave. As he was walking out, he bumped into Clara rushing in.
"Oh Peter, is Vince here?" asked Clara.
"Why does she want to speak to Vince?" wondered Peter.
"Well, he is here but…" he began to explain.
"Over in the corner. But I don't think…" Peter tried to explain again. Before he could tell her that Vince was in no position to talk, she was off to the table. Peter followed. He noticed how anxious Clara seemed to be.
She froze still in her tracks when she saw Vince passed out on the table. "Great! Just what I need," she murmured, then walked over and took something out of Vince's coat pocket. Peter couldn't see what it was. She turned to Peter.
"Peter, do you have a car?"
"Yes, of course," Peter answered, bewildered by her question.
"I mean here with you. Or did you come with sleeping beauty here?" she snapped.
This was not the cheery, bubbly, ‘good morning!’ Clara that Peter was used to.
"Yes, I have my car. It's out in the parking lot."
Clara looked over Peter's shoulder and spied two well dressed men walking in, wearing black business suits with matching sunglasses. Her face froze. Peter turned to see what she was staring at. It was not hard for Peter to figure out. The two stood out in the crowd of jeans and wrestling t-shirts.
"Is there a back way out of this place?" Clara asked in desperation.
"Yes, I think so, what's the matter?"
"Just show me the way and I'll explain later!" The two men spotted Clara and Peter and started rushing towards them.
Peter saw them coming and grabbed Clara's hand. "Quick, this way!" Peter and Clara ran through the storeroom and out to the parking lot.
"Where's your car?" she asked anxiously.
"Right here!" Peter motioned to his faded, red, half rusted Yugo.
"I asked did you have a car! A real car!" she grumbled. She pulled a small electronic device out of her pocketbook. She fitted it into the locked door of a rather nice, red Corvette that happened to belong to the owner of Sully's Bar. The doors unlocked.
"This one will do. Let's go." She got behind the wheel and put the gadget in the ignition of the car. It started right up. "Get in!" she called.
"What?" Peter stood, looking at her, his mouth gaping open.
"I said, GET IN!" she shouted.
Peter didn't know what to do? This couldn't be the same Clara with the perky smile and the ‘good morning!’ He stood there speechless, wondering, "Is it worth it to get into a car that someone is stealing right in front of you?"
"Get in, unless you want to die!" Clara ordered with force.
"By who? You?"
"No them!" She pointed to the two men in suits who were now coming out of the bar with guns in hand.
"Oh, right!" Peter jumped into the car and they sped off. The two men fired a few shots. One hit the back window, another blew out the passenger side mirror, but they didn't slow Clara down one bit. The two gunmen jumped into a black sedan in pursuit.
They sped down Peter's street and by his apartment. "Will I ever see my warm gray sheets and the coffeemaker aunt Vicky gave me last Christmas again?" he thought to himself. Peter looked down at the speedometer. They were doing well over eighty.
"Do you really have to drive this fast? I mean we surely have lost them by now! And watch what you doing!" There was a thump and the car bobbed up and down a bit, but Clara didn't slow.
"Hey, I was very fond of that dog! Poor Tippy!" Peter shouted.
"Poor us if they catch us!" Clara shouted back.
"Just who are they? And why are they after you? I mean us?"
"I’ll explain all later." She looked in the rearview mirror "Damn, they found us!"
Peter looked back and saw blindly bright headlights getting closer behind them. Gunshots started to rain at them once again. Clara slammed on the brakes and the Corvette came to a screeching stop. She pulled a small Frisbee shaped object from her bag. "Here, throw this on the road behind us," she ordered Peter and handed him the disk.
"What?" He looked at the object.
"Throw this on the road behind us," she demanded.
Peter took the disk. It wasn't much bigger then a lid of a coffee can. He tossed it out the shattered rear window.
"How can that help us?"
The pursuing headlights got closer and closer. Peter braced himself. He thought for sure that the black sedan would ram into the parked Corvette. Suddenly, a bright, green light shone out from the disk, straight up into the air. The pursuing sedan ran into the light and promptly vanished, along with any trace of the greenish light, or the disk. Only a wisp of green smoke, then just darkness, remained.
"Oh my God! Did you see what just happened? They just vanished, disappeared, puff, gone," gasped Peter.
"Disintegrated actually," Clara said in a very nonchalant way.
"What is going on here?"
"I'll explain later! We've got to keep moving!"
"You keep saying that! I want you to tell me now," Peter grabbed Clara's hand and pulled it away from the shift.
"Listen, we are not out of the woods yet," said Clara. She turned to face Peter. "I need to be focused one hundred percent on getting our butts out of this mess. And if I take the time to explain everything to you, that might just give them time to track us down and we might just get caught!"
"Well look. What do we have here?" said a voice.
Peter and Clara looked up to see the barrels of five very large guns pointed at their heads.
They were caught.