The foolish adventures of Steven Japp and Jebediah Prongs

[Tingst]

1. How Steven Japp and Jebediah Prongs meet
   Car Industry District, City of Tingstad, Creekwater County, North Tingst.

• Automobile manufacturing - So maybe it’s not heaven, but it could have been a lot worse. Steven Jaap was walking from the factory towards his car. Even though you might think working 8 hours a day assembling cars would make for a rather strained relationship with your own automobile, Steven Jaap was the living proof of the exact opposite. Steven adored his car and spent most of his waken, non-working, hours in it. Whether it was driving around the city of Tingstad itself or its surroundings, the feeling of control over 85 00 pounds of Tingstian pride made him feel good. - There’s really nothing else to it, he thought to himself as he approached his car. - It makes me feel good, simple as that. He took out his keys and passed by a big group of people standing outside the factory compound. There was no doubt that a meeting was being held, and the safe bet for organizer was the Workers Alliance of Tingst.

Steven Jaap was by no means an ideological scholar, and the nature of the Tingst political life and its dominating libertarian ideology, wasn’t something he had given much attention too. He did, however, find the nations motto, and fundamental concept and core beautiful. “Audentes Fortuna Iuvat” - “Fortune Favours the Brave”. For Steven it meant something in the lines with: If you want it, it’s yours; go out and get it. Whatever it might be, you should, and ought to try reaching it; if you want too that is. - Lady Fortuna and the general philosophy of Tingstian life rewards ambitions", Jaap thought to himself as he entered the car and started preparing his Cat pipe. He had never sympathized with the so-called workers movement and their rhetoric about “Tingst City Fat Cats” and the unjust state of the nation’s economical and political realities. - If you want to make a shitload of money, buy a suit and move to Tingst City. You accomplish nothing, and make no individual progression by simply bitching about the state of things. He was feeling worked up, he always did before getting that first drag of the pipe after work.

After getting the Cat ready with remarkable skill and speed, Jaap, commenced with lighting up the pipe and then placing the mouthpiece by his lips, he closed his eyes and inhaled. - Finally. he said out loud as he felt the Cat heating up his entire body. - Ungrateful bastards, you get what you give. If you choose to work in cars, you get paid car wages. Don’t like it? Try the fucking Uranium Mining out at the fields. That’ll get you a Tingst City income for sure. You probably won’t live for long though, he thought to himself as he sat in his car watching the big red flags that the protestors were waving in the air at the meeting. “The red plague, The big red! Commies!” The initial calming effect of the Cat had changed into a state of feeling ridiculously cheerful, and he was laughing out loud at his own witty communist remarks. All of a sudden the car door opened, and outside stood a man in a dark suit and a well-groomed haircut. - What the fuc… Steven didn’t get a chance to finish before the man said; - Mr Jaap, I am Jebediah Prongs. I thought we could have us a little conversation, you and me. Steven looked puzzled. - About what? he asked. - Well, the future of our great nation Mr. Jaap, and how you can help shape that future. Please step out of the car and follow me.

[Tingst]

2. The well-groomed and utterly foolish Jebediah Prongs
   Nuevo Acrobat, Tingst City Proper

Jebediah Prongs was making record time. No more than 15 min from his door to the office. And this he had accomplished just by power-walking. - Military training bitch, this is where your time spent is shown. I’ve got the stamina of a fucking race horse, he modestly thought to himself as he crossed Hempstead Avenue and made his way towards his office building. High, no ornaments and as grey as they come. - Modernism, Prongs muttered quietly as he swung open the front doors. He had always considered himself quite the Renaissance man and took pride in being able to categorize the objects around him into certain schools of thought. At the moment he was into “Modernism”. He had initially read up on “Postmodernism” but never quite grasped the fundamentals of it.

The Counter Strike and Prevention Division (CSPD) of Peace of Mind Inc. (PoM) had their offices located at the 35th floor. Pling. The elevator doors opened and Prongs started walking towards meeting room F. Today’s meeting could prove to be exciting, seeing as some new areas and projects were to be handed out. Jebediah was hoping for something more concrete than the monitoring and analyzing of the emails sent among the local youth Nazis. “Kindergarten Brown Shirt Detail” was boring. Everyone knew the 45 twenty-something-kids that made up the Patriots would never amount to anything more than statutory rape and petty assaults. While daydreaming of mayhem and looking utterly absent, Jebediah entered meeting room F and sat down in a chair.

And about 1 hour later

• Communism. He said it out loud, as to taste the word and concept of the whole thing. As a fan of isms in general, Jebediah of course knew about Communism. - Not my favorite ism though, he thought. Jebediah Prongs was one of the many tingstian children who had grown up learning to despise anything politically even remotely connected with the color red.

He had been given a project. Apparently some red plaguers up north, something in the line with The United Workers. They were causing trouble in the Tingstad Car Industry District. Pure Automobiles had a sector contract with PoM’s regional office in the north, but had specifically requested the CSPD. The north had always been full of commies. Everyone knew that. But the difference is now they actually seemed properly organized and reports suggested they were “up to something”. The plan was simply to monitor their activities closely and decide on appropriate action. According to standard protocol he would use someone to go undercover. The facts team had already picked out a candidate for him. “35 years old, divorced, no children, clear patriotic ideals, cat head.” - He will do very nicely, Jebediah thought.

• Mr. Steven Jaap, I’m looking forward to meeting you.

[Tingst]

3. The seemingly confused Steven Japp, and the nature of his assignment.
   Stranger District, City of Tingstad, Creekwater County, North Tingst.

• There’s really nothing to it. You go to a couple of meetings, share a few beers with your fellow members of the proletariat, and report everything back to me. After finishing his speech, Jebediah Prongs leaned back in silence and directed his gaze at Steven Japp. - But I don’t want to consort with those kind of people. Seriously, it makes me sick, just looking at them, Japp replied. - That probably has more to do with the cat, Jebediah thought to himself before answering in a different manner. - That’s precisely why you are the right man for the job, Mr Japp. You are pure at heart. You, like my employers and me, share a fundamental belief in the Tingstian way of life. You, Steven Japp, believe in freedom, and that is exactly why you will help us in this matter. Steven couldn’t help but feel a sensation of pride growing inside him. He did believe in freedom. Helping the cosmic greater good. Maybe this was it; maybe this had been the big lady’s plan for him all along.

Steven Japp was something of a confused soul. Not that most people don’t struggle with staying ideologically pure, and of course many do stray from their path on a regular basis. Japp, however, never seemed to have gotten on the path in the first place. His narrative of the world consisted of a mixture of blurred political slogans, old religious beliefs and a general blend of superstition picked up along the way. Firmly a believer in individualism, Japp, held the viewpoint that each and everyone was the sole master of their own life; a view that some might say eliminates the idea of “fate”, or for that matter reading your fellow humans and surroundings as a part of something bigger, be it from a spiritual or a political point of view. Jappism, if we should mockingly call it that, did, however, not see a problem combining all of the above. Right next to the first commandment of the holy individual existed a strong feeling of being part of far reaching collective community transcending time and space, and the “Big Lady” referred to above, was to be understood as the mother and general patron saint of this community. The Big Lady was Lady Fortuna, a mythological being often used in Tingstian political rhetoric to encourage people to fight to get ahead. “Fortune comes to those who are daring”. Steven Japp, however, had combined and evolved the clearly metaphorical use of the “Lady” into something bigger, and in his opinion it was she who turned and decided the directions of the wheels, which influenced the life roads we all walk along. Ok, enough personal “politics” for now. But let it be said that even though Steven’s view of his existence contained some loopholes, which doesn’t? Perhaps Steven’s pragmatic approach of incorporating bits and pieces actually made him see things clearer than many others? Perhaps this unconventional way of thinking granted him a more refined perception of his surroundings? We’ll just leave that question unanswered for now.

• Ok, so say I’m in. Where do I begin? Steven had made a decision. He was going along with Agent Prongs suggestion of infiltration. - Well, again, it’s not that complicated, Jebediah said in a friendly tone. - Just go to the meetings. Find out who’s running the show and befriend them. Make them tell you all their dirty little secrets. Jebediah smiled benevolently at Steven. Japp remained silent for a minute, before he answered: - Ok, I can do that. No problem. How do I get in touch with you, do you have a phone number I should use?. Jebediah Prongs widened his smile and said, - You don’t contact me, I contact you.

[Tingst]

4.Steven Japp prepares and Jebediah Prongs waits.
Stranger District, City of Tingstad, Creekwater County, North Tingst.

Steven Jaap had prepared himself maticiuosly. He was going to wear a plaid shirt, red and black in colour, purchased specifically for his assignment. Wearing plaid was the heart and soul of the prolerariat, Prongs had told him, and Steven could easily see the logic in that; in regards to the colours of choice, that was all Steven, and in that he took great pride and couldn’t wait to tell Prongs about how he had taken his notion of plaid, and modified into perfection.

He had done his reading as well; after browsing the book shops of Tingstad he had finally found the books suggested by Prongs under the heading of “Ancient Philosophy” in a small shop called ‘Harry’s Occult’. Several polemic pamphlets by Marx, ‘What is to be done?’ and “Imperialism” by Lenin, the collected writings of Chairman Mao and a few short texts by Luxemburg were among the titles he brought home from ‘Harry’s’. They cost a fortune, but Steven was sure Jebidiah Prongs would cover the charge when they meet again. Besides all the foreign litterature, Steven also found a rariety, “The seed of destruction: the inner logic of the Neo-Liberal ideology” written by a tingstian native, Emmanuel Guinness. Steven had never heard of him, but by reading the back cover of the book he soon found out that Guinness had been a professor of Politology at the University of Asel, right here in Tingstad. That was many years ago though, and after doing a search for his name on the internet upon returning home, Steven found out that Guinness had actually left the country ten years ago.

After reading most of his newly purchased books, granted he didn’t quite grasp the content of them, Steven was even more convinced that the United Workers Alliance needed to be stopped. - Revolution, the uprooting of our society as we know it. While preparing this evenings third Cat pipe Steven began to feel a mixed sensation of fear and determination. It was him, Steven Jaap, that had to deal with this threat towards Tingst as he knew it. He flipped open the first page of the book by Guinness as he feelt the warmth of the Cat spreading within his body and mind.

While Steven Japp became assured of the justness of his cause, Jebediah Prongs watched porn in his central Tingstad hotel room. “Ambrosial” he said out loud directed at the TV screen where a close up of a female genitalia could be seen. ‘Ambrosial’ had been the ‘Word Of The Day’ in his calender a few days back, and he had longed for an opportunity to use it. - Pitty no one was around, he thought to himself while downing his third glas of champange. The past few days had been utterly eventless, how he hated the north and its inhabitants; they lacked, in his mind, all that was great about Tingst: “Grace and greed”. However, this was the big day. The day his little pet Steven Jaap was to make contact with the commies at the tavern “Foxy Fox”. He checked his watch, big and expensive, imported, of course, tingstian watches were shit. About half an hour left. Jebediah Prongs turned up the volume on the TV and poured himself another glas.

• Do me proud, Steven Jaap, do me proud.

[Tingst]

5. Steven Jaap drinks Ginger Ale and meets with the Tingstadian Workers Movement.
   Lingis District, City of Tingstad, Creekwater County, North Tingst.

All the men (and they were all men) of the United Alliance of Workers drank beer and chatted about football; Steven Jaap was seated amongst them. He had been careful not to arrive too early, he didn’t want to seem that eager to join the movement; he was aiming at preserving a certain mystique concerning his persona, and therefore he had arrived at the “Foxy Fox” ten past, instead of on the dot. They all drank the domestic beer “Steamed Fox”. All but Steven Jaap who drank Ginger Ale. Distaste for beer, and alcohol in general, was common among “Cat Heads”. No one really knew why, but the drug companies and its lobby usually argued that this side effect was a blessing, seeing as it in fact lowered alcoholism among the lower classes of tingstian society, which was the social stratum where Cat usage was most common (of course no one talked about “classes” per se, such terminology was generally frowned upon).

Half an hour into the “meeting” and not a word of politics had been uttered. This made Steven suspicious; why no talk of the sickness that was bourgeoisie society? How come not a single word concerned all history that must be the history of classes? - A test, this must be some sort of a test to determine if I am worthy of entrance or not, Steven Jaap thought to himself while downing his third bottle of Ginger Ale. Steven Jaap was not going to be intimidated by a childish test, he was ideologically pure, at least in his undercover persona, and he was going to prove it. - A quote from Marx, that’ll show them who’s a vanguard of the proletariat around here. Steven Jaap cleared his throat and proclaimed:

In a higher phase of communist society… only then can the narrow horizon of bourgeois right be fully left behind and society inscribe on its banners: from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs.

Complete and utter silence dominated the two tables of the “Foxy Fox” tavern that were occupied by the members of the Workers Alliance United after Steven Jaap’s last word had dissolved into nothingness. He feelings were ambivalent; a sensation of pride and fear materialized in a single drop of sweat on his forehead. Had he gone too far to early? The silence lasted yet another minute, which for Steven felt like an hour. Then one of the workers said:

• Now that’s precisely the kind of talk we need to get some attention. Alphonso, haven’t I told you that we need to spice up our whole approach if we’re ever gonna get to where we want to be? This is it, we need to speak in a more daring fashion, and this guy here, he’s got the tongue of a dirty angel!

The one who spoke was Penton Neuf, and his question was directed at Alphonso Devrim; they both seemed like prominent figures within the movement. Alphonso nodded at Penton’s comment and said - I suppose we should begin the meeting anyways, so thanks, Steven was it, for giving us all a kick in the ass on that one.

• No problem, Steven murmured in response.

Alphonse took a sip of his “Steamed Fox” and directed his gaze towards Steven: - You see, we’ve been trying to get this pay raise forever now, but of course you knew that already, I mean, that’s why you’re here. But our meetings in front of the factory doesn’t seem to get us anywhere so we’ve been thinking that perhaps writing some form of a letter explaining our wants and needs and send it to management would do the trick. And we could really use someone like you to write it. As you’ve just shown us, you’ve got feeling when it comes to words. What do you think, Steven?’

Steven Jaap watched the anticipating faces of his fellow workers and after a moments silence he said:

• Sure, sounds good to me’.

And so it was settled, Penton, Alphonso and Steven were to write the letter; the letter that eventually would amount to an awful lot, in a way, but not quite in the direction the United Alliance were hoping for. New rounds of beer were ordered and people urged Steven to speak once again, as he had spoken earlier. Steven didn’t want to disappoint his crowd, and pulled out another one of his newly found wisdoms:

In bourgeois society capital is independent and has individuality, while the living person is dependent and has no individuality.

And the crowd cheered.