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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Comedy · #1400518
This is the second story in the Lucky O'Toole series. It's a little racier, but amusing.
                                                     

         I was vacationing on Betelgeuse IV and looking forward to some much needed recreation. For the previous six months I had been stranded on Heaven Help Us. It's as good a name as any for a planet and I'm sure if, by some unforeseen happenstance, you have ever been there, you've probably said the same thing yourself. I prefer to call it by it's original name. The first human to set foot on the planet took one look and proclaimed in a very loud voice; Holy Crap!, and that's what it was called, until the monks moved in.
         All in all they're a good bunch of Joe's. A bit peculiar, but nice enough. They take a vow for almost everything; poverty, chastity, silence, gambling, drinking, smoking, eating meat, poultry and the list went on and on. When the first Abbott arrived he decided to change the name of the planet and who could blame him. After all, a Monastery on a planet called Holy Crap didn't look quite right on the reports back to the home office.
         He racked his brain to find just the right name, but the planet was so desolate, so bleak, so barren, so depressing, in exasperation he muttered Heaven Help Us and it stuck. Of course, he had to do some severe penance for breaking his vow of silence.
         I went to Heaven Help Us to inspect some land I won in a poker game when my ship, The Blarney Stone, malfunctioned. It took six months for the part I needed to be shipped in. At first I wasn't too upset about being stranded on Hell's Half Acre and the monks did let me out of the cell once I promised to behave. But six months on a planet, any planet, let alone this one, without female companionship, is too much to ask. Thank God for the brandy! They may not be allowed to drink, but the monks sure do make a damned good brandy.
         Eventually I was requested to do all my drinking aboard my ship. It seems drinking in front of the monks was too cruel. Their eyes would glaze over, their mouths watered, their tongues hung out, and then the Abbott wouldn't let me do it anymore. Oh well, there went my only source of live entertainment.
         Don't get me wrong, I'm not a cruel man by any means, but there was absolutely nothing to do. I mean nothing, nada, zip. No one to talk to, no poker games, no Tri-vid, nothing! And worst of all, no women! I had to do something to pass the time, didn't I?
         But, now I'm on Betelgeuse IV and the women are fantastic! Did I mention that the female to male ratio here is 4000 to 1 and I'm the 1? It started as a social experiment, a planet populated and run by women. After ten years of living without men I don't think it's working too well for them. Not if the line outside my door is any indication.
         Around the third or fourth day I received a visit from the Head Administrator. Her name was Gladys, a tall, willowy blonde with a build like an atomic pile and the energy to match. She had a no nonsense approach and we immediately got down to business, later we discussed the official reason for her visit.
         It seems I was right about their social experiment not working quite as they had planned. Morale was at an all time low and there was talk by the rank and file of giving up. Now, Gladys was a practical woman. She realized that going cold turkey was a mistake and that her constituents needed a little diversion from time to time. However, she wasn't about to open up the flood gates and let men in willy-nilly.
         She asked my opinion of building a resort for men only. It would help the local economy as well as morale. I thought that was a good idea, but not to limit it to men only. She might be able to recruit new members for her colony as well. She thought that was an excellent idea and was very appreciative.
         After demonstrating her gratitude, she broached the subject again. It seems the colony, while self sufficient, wasn't exactly a money-maker. They didn't have the capital to build a resort and did I have any suggestions. I told her I had a lot of ideas and would be glad to discuss them in depth with her. Which we did.
         After three weeks of mingling with the natives, I needed a rest. I am only human, not a machine. Gladys lent me her sailboat and was gracious enough to come along so I wouldn't get lonely. We spent the next few days sailing up the coast enjoying the sights. Occasionally we even came up on deck.
         Late one afternoon, Gladys asked if I wouldn't mind making a short stop. As long as she was in the vicinity, she thought she should stop at the coal mine to see how the miners were getting along. I didn't mind at all, I needed a break from Gladys. Did I mention she was insatiable? But what could you expect from a woman who hasn't seen a man in ten years.
         I knew Gladys was hoping I could come up with a solution for her dilemma, but I had one of my own. I had to figure out what to do with the property on Heaven Help Us I won in the poker game. At first glance I thought I had been hornswoggled. No self-respecting buzzard would consider living on that wasteland.
         Now, I'm not the kind of guy that gets emotional when things go wrong. When I accepted the deed as Smitty's bet, I took a chance the property might not be worth the ten thousand credits it was meant to cover. When I first saw the property in question, I calmly sat down and cried my eyes out. The paper the deed was written on was worth more than the dust bowl it represented.
              When I quit kicking my feet and pounding my fists into the ground, I noticed a yellowish substance on my hands. Being the curious sort, I took samples and went back to the Blarney Stone where I had the ship's lab analyze it. You could have knocked me over with a feather when I read the results. But, then they don't call me Lucky for nothing. That worthless piece of ground was polluted with gold!
         My problem now was how to mine it? There wasn't anyway I would be able to get miners to live on Heaven Help Us. Who would want to live on a bleak, desolate planet with only the monks as neighbors? As Gladys and I neared the coal mine an idea began to form in my brain that could solve both of our problems.
         The miners were glad to see Gladys, but even happier to see me. It would have been bad manners to refuse their dinner invitation and Gladys was a good enough politician to make herself scarce afterwards. As you would expect, I was the evening's entertainment and I gave a magnificent performance, with numerous encores.
         We delayed our departure for a few days, even at three and four at a time, it takes a while to satisfy a hundred depraved miners. Thank goodness they carried me to the boat in a litter. I don't think I could have walked if my life depended on it. Gladys took the helm while I took a much needed nap.
         The next day, at least I think it was the next day, I told Gladys my idea and she latched onto it with great vigor. Forming a business partnership, we consummated the relationship down below. Did I mention she was insatiable?
         Gladys and I worked very closely over the next few weeks, feeling each other out before pounding and hammering out all the details. We even managed to get some work done. Moving four thousand women is a monumental task. If the booking agent at Galactic Cruise Lines was surprised at the destination or my request for an all male crew, he did a very good job at hiding it. Gladys and I shared a private cabin with a Do Not Disturb sign on it the whole trip.
         The Abbott was extremely surprised to see me again. No one had ever visited Heaven Help Us twice willingly. He was mildly amused when I told him I had discovered gold on my property, but he was more than mildly miffed when I told him about the women I brought to mine it. Have you ever seen an angry mime? It's not a pretty sight.
         He became even angrier when I suggested the loosening of one or two of their vows, but he soon saw the wisdom behind it when I mentioned the benefits. After all, a happy monk is a productive monk and if everything went as planned, his monks would be very productive. I could tell that he was still concerned as to what the home office would say when they received the news, so I suggested he tell them it was God's way of answering his prayer of, Heaven Help Us.

                                              The End
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